#he has my EXACT sense of humor

[mystmesstolemysoul]

Tell me why I'm supposed to be doing Zens route (and kinda succeeding?) but when he calls or texts me I'm like 'meh' but when I get even a snippet of attention from 707 I literally look like this

[notmoreflippingelves]

OTP ask 😉 ! Krisnix: 10, 14, 30, 39, 42 ; Estelanor: 2, 5, 18, 30, 51 please?

So I ended up splitting this up into two different posts, because I ended up rambling a good bit. The Krisnix was already done. And I am putting the EoA OT3 beneath the read more.

(It is rather lengthy and I didn't want to scandalize the EoA fandom too much with my unhinged thoughts about a "problematic" OT3 ship that (probably) no one else has ever thought about before or since. So here goes...

Esteban/Elena/Victor

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Of the three of them, Victor is the least likely to have "nightmares" in the traditional sense (i.e. one the evoke fear and/or anxiety), but it isn't too uncommon for him to have dreams that make him sad. Mainly dreaming about the happy days early in his marriage with Ash--when Carla was still small and they were a proper family. Or he'll dream about being cast out of Avalor with his family shortly after the invasion and being unable to return for over four decades. Or he'll dream of the other two during the Dark Times™ and wake up feeling melancholy that Elena was isolated in the amulet and Esteban under Shuriki's thumb for forty-one years. Victor can't help but feel a little guilty and sad that he wasn't there to keep the others safe or even just provide a little humor--and even guiltier when he remembers that he spent decades feeling jealous of Elena and resentful towards Esteban, so its unlikely that the selfish person that he was then would've done anything different if he'd had the chance.

Even though he is least likely to have nightmares himself, Victor is probably the best at calming either of the others down if they have nightmares. (He does after all have practice doing so with Carla). He will carefully stroke the hair off the sweaty brow(s) in question and quietly croon the same lullaby that he used to sing Carla to sleep with. He doesn't have Elena's vocal talents, but his singing voice is soft and gentle and the words of the song are reassuring. And it's usually only a matter of time before the others drift back off to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, Elena has nightmares A LOT. Most often, she dreams of her parents wrapped up in Shuriki's green smoke or the dark, cold silence of her amulet prison. But occasionally, other dreams creep in. Shuriki victorious and making Elena watch as every one of her family and friends are killed in front of her with her powerless to stop it. Orizaba blotting out the sun for good and all Avalor being trapped in the dark. Elena's emotion magic failing to revive Esteban after he teleported in front of Cahu's sand grain for her--even though she has forgiven him even if only in the dream.

She is also, however, pretty good at comforting the others when they have nightmares. Without fail, the first thing she will do is use the "glow" spell on the scepter to bring some light back into the room. (This is particularly effective when Esteban is the one who has had the bad dream, as he does not handle waking up in the dark and afraid very well). She speaks very calmly and very slowly--and asks first before offering consoling cuddles. (Again, Esteban does not always want to be touched depending on the dream he's had and what sort of mental place he's in after it). Sometimes, she will use her scepter again--specifically the "illusion" or "truesight" to bring a up a vision of something calming and comforting.

(It is worth nothing that I do headcanon Elena and Esteban have a bit of a strong psychic link due to their crystal well connection. So I think one or both might be able to "sense" the other having had a particularly bad dream. And on the nights where they are apart from each other, they will not let distance stop them from comforting each other. Elena can and will wake up one of the Guardians to fly her whenever Esteban is. Esteban will reach for his staff and teleport to Elena's side. And after they do this, they make a point to "check in" on Victor as well to see how he is doing/make sure he feels included).

Esteban, meanwhile, has the most frequent nightmares of the three. Shuriki and the Dark Times™  is naturally the most frequent source and subject of his dreams. Esteban is forced to recall the horrendous things that she did to Esteban's family, his country, and to Esteban himself. And more than that the things that she made him do that horrified and disgusted him and broke him in ways that he did not even know that he could be broken. It's almost a relief when he has a nightmare that does not concern Shuriki in some way and instead focuses on one of the other frightening times from his life--those times when he dreams of his parents ship going down, of Elena and Luisa disowning him, of Ash and Zopilote inevitably realizing that they could just kill him to drain Takaina's magic out of him and into themselves, of Cahu turning his abuelos to stone and Esteban not being able to teleport in front of Elena before the same fate befell her.

As he is usually the one (though not always the only one) who needs be comforted after a nightmare as opposed to doing the comforting, he has the least amount of practice at post-nightmare calming. Nevertheless, he has a few go-to strategies. He will usually teleport to the kitchen and back and come back with a jug of water, a few glasses, and some wash cloths on a tray. He will pour a some water into a cup and hand it over to the person(s) who had the nightmare(s). He'll also dampen the wash cloth with the cool water and then trace smooth, sinuous patterns with it across forehead(s) and the back of their neck(s). He'll also encourage the other(s) to count to ten and back with him, while also leading them into slow, deep relaxing breaths until they calm down.

5. Describe their cozy night in.

(I'm basing this primarily on the scenario of my w.i.p. where Esteban has moved out of the palace into a house of his own and most of the OT3 times happen at his new home--to avoid scandalizing the rest of the Flores family or putting Carla in a weird spot).

Victor cooks dinner for the other two, but Esteban retains custody and control of the pepper shaker so that Victor doesn't go overboard with the seasonings yet again. Elena is only allowed to help with gathering ingredients, chopping vegetables and setting the table, etc. because otherwise she is a kitchen disaster (also Esteban and Victor still feel a bit weird about ordering their queen around even if they know she's always happy to help.) After dinner, they sit around and have a quiet evening together. Victor has been promising for awhile to teach Elena how to play (i.e. cheat at) poker--much to Esteban's discomfort--and how to throw knives --much to Esteban's even greater discomfort, so they will often go into the other room and be chaotic, while Esteban works on paper work by the fire. (I tend to headcanon that post-canon redeemed Esteban either stays on as Naomi's assistant chancellor, takes over the bookkeeping and inventory for Luisa's chocolate shop, or does both--so either way there is always a lot of paperwork for him to do. ) When they're each done for the night with their little side projects, Esteban, Victor, and Elena regroup. Usually, there will be guitar playing (Esteban and Elena canonically play, and Victor probably knows how to as well) and singing and/or dancing. Other times, one of them (usually Esteban) will read aloud to the others from the latest popular novel.

When they start to get tired (but not too tired...if you catch my drift), they make their way into the massive bed in the bedroom and... [redacted].

18. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

I am assuming that "fur babies" refers to pets and not like an omegaverse situation, lol. This is actually an interesting thought as like...I'm not even 100% sure that cats and dogs exist in Avalor. I'm pretty sure they do given that there are some in Sofia the First and the little dog sculptures that come to life in the Valentina episode. But like...apparently, jaguars are extinct in the Sofia-verse, according to sunbird oracle and I don't think we see regular cats or dogs again at any other point, unless I am forgetting something. So like...it's possible that they don't????

But I'm just going to assume that cats and dogs do exist even if we don't see them.

Something about Esteban just screams "has allergies" to me, but I'm not sure I can put my finger on what exactly. Other than just me projecting onto him even more than I already do. But even if he does have allergies, it's very possible that the crystal well cured him of this, so that he can enjoy the furry darlings in peace.

I would say that Victor has dog energy, Esteban has cat energy (if he's only just now gotten over his allergies), and Elena has both. Assuming the royal household doesn't already have cats and dogs, they will probably soon acquire some for maximum cuddles.

I would like to think that Victor and Carla will get a dog at some point. It was a probably a tough and resilient stray from the wrong side of the tracks--not unlike the Delgados themselves. Victor probably wasn't too sure about it at first, but honestly, he can never say no to Carla and it's not exactly an unpleasant thing to agree to. There will inevitably be puppies at some point, because the thought never occurred to Victor to get the dog neutered once they agreed to take it in (And if the thought did occur to him, he probably would've resisted anyway because "why should we deprive the dog of one of life's greatest joys.") Victor and Carla will probably keep one of the puppies, and Elena who fell in love with the puppers at first sight will probably keep at least one more for herself (and the rest of the royal family)--and they'll make sure that the others go to good families.

Another thought that I had is that perhaps Elena uncovered an illegal magical animal trafficking ring in Avalor and put a stop to it. And maybe one of the animals that they discovered was a jaquin--specifically one that has been raised in captivity and/or had its wings or claws damaged in some way. They probably originally intended to return it to Vallestrella to live with the other jaquins, but it was eventually determined that due to its special circumstances, the poor thing might not survive out there on its own (even if under the protection of the other jaquins), so it actually makes more sense for it to live in the royal palace. Elena takes excellent care of her new "pet that isn't exactly a pet" and makes sure that it can socialize with Skylar and the other Guardians--as well as with the royal family and friends.

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Victor and Elena are both very into Esteban's little adventure outfit (God, they're so me-) --with the three whole buttons undone on his shirt, no jacket or cravat, the scarf belt wrapped around his waist and those sinfully tight trousers. So, the two of them (ganging up on Esteban as a group as they often do) are often able to persuade him into their outfit of choice. And unless there is a particular reason for Esteban to dress more formally, he can usually be persuaded. It's nice that he's able to dress more casually now than before, and he knows how good this looks on him.

(On a related note, Victor absolutely *hates* Esteban's yellow jacket that he wears for formal court functions. And so he does have a long-standing fantasy of asking Esteban to wear it to bed one of these nights so that Victor and Elena can literally rip it off him and tear the hated thing to shreds. But Victor hasn't acted on this impulse. Yet.)

Victor is also very into Elena's little adventure outfit with the tunic and ye olde skinny jeans. This is slightly for thirsty reasons. (He doesn't really get to admire her very nice legs when they're hidden beneath her skirts, but he can when she wears trousers.) But he is also aware that Elena is more comfortable in this kind of outfit than in her more usual "queenly" attire. Also a more casual look suits her very impulsive, headstrong and easily-distracted personality. Far easier for her to climb a tree on a whim this way. And Victor loves seeing Elena at her most "Elena," and she's very comfortable in her skin in this outfit . (Victor has not yet had the privilege of seeing Elena in her skintight fencing gear yet, or he would have a new favorite. And this would be entirely for the thirsty reasons. No one could ever say Victor Delgado is a saint. Not even close.)

Esteban, meanwhile, likes seeing Elena dressed like the queen that she is. The finest of gowns, the most extravagant of jewels. All should see her and be instantly struck by her beauty, her radiance, her goodness, her majesty in any and every sense of the word. Every Avaloran citizen's heart should swell with awe and pride as they clasp eyes yet again on the greatest queen in all the Ever Realm. Of Elena's canon outfits, I would say that Esteban's favorite is probably the red ballgown that she wears for official court functions throughout the show (and the one that her face character wears in the Disney parks). Red is after all, Elena's signature color--just as it is Esteban's own--and it is a very flattering one on her indeed. He would probably try to get Elena to accessorize the dress a bit more than she usually does. (A necklace that matches her crown, a jeweled broach at the center of her belt, rings on every finger, etc) though I can't say that he would be super successful.

Victor's only has two canon outfits and neither of them are particularly great. (The Dracula-core malvago cape is certainly memorable but not particularly flattering or the kind of thing that Esteban or Elena would care to see him again). So I am going to let Esteban and Elena find something new and better for him. Victor won't mind. He's always liked the finer things (too much for his own good), and he's delighted to be the "sugar. baby" for two royals who have very refined and expensive taste (Esteban) and love to spoil their loved ones (Elena).

Essentially, I think they would look for a more flattering and more upscale version of his "regular" canon outfit. Shirt with waistcoat, trousers and cravat. Elena and Esteban will make sure that Victor has his share of jackets too, but unless there's a particular reason why Victor needs to wear one (weather or a formal occasion), I think they'd prefer he go sans jacket with just the shirt and waistcoat. Victor is rather broad-shouldered and from the little we can see through his jacket, he seems to have some nice biceps on him too, so it would be nice to have something that will show off his arms a little better.

Based on my initial impression, green ( to match his eyes) and black would probably be the most flattering colors for Victor. And given that we see him wear these colors in his "regular" outfit, we can presume that Victor likes them reasonably well. So I think Esteban and Elena would probably focus on a lot on these shades when adding new pieces to their novio's wardrobe.

I think that they would particularly look for a patterned waistcoat, like the kind we often see in the Georgian and Victorian time periods (or even like Julio Guzman's Magister of Trade vest on the show itself). Nothing too over-the-top mind, but given that Victor is a rather flamboyant person in general, I think he deserves something a little flashier and more ornate now that he can. Preferably ones in green, black, or both is kind of the vibe I think they should strive for. A few examples below:

I also think Victor is confident enough to pull off a black blouse with his waistcoat. He's a retired thief and an ex-malvago, so he definitely has more-than-a-bit of a "bad boy" edge to him and that would be reflected in his wardrobe. I also think Elena and Esteban would probably find that very attractive (even if Esteban would never admit it). So they make sure that he has a black shirt or two in addition to the basic whites. And neither of them complains too much if Victor desides to forgo the cravat entirely and leave the top few buttons his black blouse undone beneath his waistcoat.

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Well, Elena canonically has her emotion magic, so literally all she would need to do is *feel* a profound sense of love for either of the others and her dress would turn pink and they would all know what was meant. That being said, she is very open and affectionate in general, so she is constantly telling the others verbally or through little gestures how much she cares about them. I feel like physical touch is her primary love language considering how physically affectionate we see her with her family and friends throughout the show. So, she is constantly reaching for the others' hands, kissing their cheeks, placing a hand on their shoulders, booping noses, etc. Victor naturally responds to this right away as he also a very physically affectionate person. It takes a bit more getting used from Esteban (even platonically, it was a lot), because he's naturally more reserved and because he's profoundly touch-starved (to the point of being overwhelmed when he first started getting more physical contact from people he likes). But now he thrives on it.

Victor shows his affection for the others in a lot of a different ways, most of them somewhat casual. He uses pet names for the others a lot. (Esteban has gone from "El Segundo" (derogatory) to "mi/nuestro El Segundo" (affectionate) to Victor. Meanwhile, Victor calls Elena "mi reina" ("my queen") and "jaquinita" ("little (female) jaquin")--which is just so cute I could scream.

Additionally, cooking with or for the people he cares about (see also: Carla) has always been a big thing with Victor. So he would constantly be doing things like trying to learn how to make various foreign dishes (ex: ramen or sushi from Satu, souvlaki from Corinthia) that the other mentioned trying/enjoying on foreign diplomatic visits. Or making (over-peppered but otherwise very tasty) soup whenever the others are feeling sick.

He also spends a good bit of time trying to make the others laugh--especially Esteban because his laughter is so comparatively rare (and therefore so much more precious). Cue Victor telling the worst fucking jokes you've ever heard to try to get the others to chuckle. (Elena thinks Victor is genuinely hilarious because her sense of humor is just as bad). He also is known to play particularly imaginative pranks (including ones on himself) to try and get the others' attention. Esteban is frequently just rolling his eyes at Victor, but there is a very amused twinkle in them when he does so.

Esteban's love language is a combination of acts of service, little gifts, words of affirmation, and physical touch that is perhaps best described as noticing and remembering things. This is partly due to the fact that "noticing and remembering" everything was quite literally his job as chancellor for over four decades. But another major factor is that Esteban spent most of his childhood wanting and waiting to be noticed and remembered himself, so he's especially sensitive to wanting to make sure that his partners feel seen and valued.

He never needs to be reminded about birthdays, anniversaries, holidays coming up. He is always on top of things and has been making careful plans for weeks (if not months). He will, however, very carefully and gently remind the others about the upcoming important date if he fears that they have forgotten. (They often need the reminder. Elena in particular).

And not even just the "big" things. He'll remember a book that Victor casually mentioned and then go search for it so that he can read it too and discuss it with him. He'll remember that Elena can sometimes get anxious whenever she has to make a big speech in front of crowds, so he adds a little note to the top of her scroll that says something like "You've got this, prima. It is a wonderful speech, and I know you will deliver it well. But even if by some bizarre chance it does not go well, I am still extremely proud of you and grow prouder every day." And of course, this is just the little pep talk Elena needs.

He notices Victor moving his head more carefully and rubbing his neck. Cue Esteban drawing him a warm bath and offering to massage Victor's tired back and shoulders until he feels better. He's not *consciously* tracking Elena's "courses," (that would be a bit too creepy and invasive for them both), but he is nevertheless mindful of the subtle changes in Elena's mood and health as any given month goes on. So he is nevertheless ready with a box of Abuela's chocolate, ye olde warming pad, and ye olde ibuprofen before Elena even asks for it.

Basically, Esteban is just always paying attention and always looking for a million quiet little ways that he can make his dos queridos ( and all of the rest of his family and friends to be fair) feel cherished and noticed in every way.

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part two.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part two word count: 10.8k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five

note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡

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An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

PART TWO

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It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox. 

Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times. 

This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue

Good morning, ___. 

I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience. 

Thank you in advance, 

Jungwon

Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection. 

But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom. 

As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. 

There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room. 

They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose. 

As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came. 

Where he softens, however, you cage up. 

“You have one minute,” you tell him. 

“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion. 

“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”

Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation. 

With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”

He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”

Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”

Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”

“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”

But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know. 

After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”

“You don’t get it–”

“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”

“____…” 

Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well. 

As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message. 

Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead. 

You were right about the apologies, though. 

Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?

Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think. 

It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding. 

You: I’ll plan on Friday.

…..

Friday morning comes with a vengeance. 

Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work. 

Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office. 

But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit. 

Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it. 

“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”

And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too. 

Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon. 

Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers. 

 ___, it reads. 

I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you. 

– J

Frowning, you read it once. Twice. 

Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight. 

You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket. 

Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense. 

Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available

Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry

Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you. 

Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”

You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”

“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”

“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”

“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”

Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.” 

“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”

You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.

It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting. 

But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two. 

And your message is still completely unanswered. 

The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time. 

And Jay still hasn’t texted you back. 

That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up. 

You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text. 

Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. 

Sister’s baby shower. 

That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you. 

You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home. 

At his older sister’s baby shower. 

Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie? 

Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be. 

Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight. 

Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint. 

In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines. 

You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week. 

It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment. 

Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out. 

2013.11.13 King Pen

You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is. 

It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search. 

The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city. 

That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007. 

Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant. 

Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area. 

You skip down a few more lines. 

When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”

You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead. 

This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion. 

Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym. 

Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym. 

There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you. 

Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name. 

Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy. 

Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot. 

It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition. 

Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied. 

Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. 

But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car. 

“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere. 

And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him. 

For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards. 

But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one. 

Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight. 

You want answers. 

So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym. 

Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty. 

Eerily so. 

All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence. 

Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense. 

But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago. 

It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch. 

The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym. 

You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door. 

It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–

Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound. 

Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again. 

Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp. 

Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.

This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound. 

Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down. 

Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness. 

Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin. 

Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge. 

No. No. 

You’re trapped. Effectively locked in. 

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop. 

Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you. 

What if this is the only entrance?

You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot. 

You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…

Both of their warnings start to come back to you.

“He’s not who you think he is…”

“I just want you to be careful…”

“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”

Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?

The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense. 

Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting. 

Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase. 

After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder. 

On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway. 

You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn. 

Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side. 

Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side. 

Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door. 

The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open. 

You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty. 

But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below. 

There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor. 

And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:

King Pen.

It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen. 

Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”

He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room. 

“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”

But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan. 

No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work. 

The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight. 

The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!” 

The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly. 

Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being. 

But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him. 

It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring. 

“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins. 

“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison. 

Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon. 

Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it. 

Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains. 

It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away. 

This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel. 

One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes. 

As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation. 

Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight. 

“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring. 

“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.

“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs. 

“Fight.”

It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to. 

Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening. 

Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer. 

He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next. 

But even dancers stumble sometimes. 

You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring. 

Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red. 

Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place. 

Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter. 

The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine. 

Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus. 

His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern. 

There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct. 

It’s messy, sloppy, angry. 

They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely. 

And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done. 

It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him. 

Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring. 

Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight. 

Anything goes. 

Your stomach twists with nausea. 

Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands. 

You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body. 

Jungwon’s mouth moves again. 

This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough. 

With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again. 

Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair. 

He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction. 

ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give. 

Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring. 

Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn. 

If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence. 

The door opens before you do any of it. 

“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”

…..

Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.” 

“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”

“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”

“What?”

Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”

And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief. 

He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay. 

He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”

“Go away.”

“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”

“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you. 

Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you. 

You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter. 

You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either. 

And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it. 

So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really. 

But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him. 

Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you. 

Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room. 

A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it. 

And, of course, there’s the two of you. 

Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath. 

He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin. 

Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”

“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement. 

“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”

“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”

“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”

This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down. 

Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room. 

Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop. 

Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you. 

Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago. 

This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him. 

Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream. 

“This might sting,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. 

If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you. 

Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first. 

As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips. 

“It stings?” You ask him. 

“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips. 

You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes. 

It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity. 

Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit. 

With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him. 

Jungwon swallows audibly. 

Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage. 

After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you. 

And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face. 

Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.  

He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up. 

“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe. 

“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across. 

“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”

His thumb stills against your skin. 

“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”

You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”

“But,” Jungwon whispers. 

“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”

Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”

He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.

You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”

You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”

You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.

Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him. 

His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from. 

Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”

“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette. 

Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.

 “Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”

Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”

Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.” 

With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”

It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding. 

It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but– 

“You don’t have to say sorry–”

Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”

“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy. 

Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still. 

It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now. 

Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true. 

Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it. 

But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin. 

Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”

He is. 

“I mean it.”

You do. 

“Thank you, ___.”

He means it too. 

When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high. 

You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure. 

But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them. 

…..

Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread. 

Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him. 

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them. 

So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding. 

Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person. 

Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten. 

“___,” he breathes. 

The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off. 

In the end, you just look at him blankly. 

“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”

The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago. 

But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding. 

It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication. 

But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes. 

So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”

The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look. 

Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”

“What are you–”

“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”

You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue. 

“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”

Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”

He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”

Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”

The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring. 

Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”

No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager. 

“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”

Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”

You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears. 

“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”

It makes sense. It does. 

“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”

Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again. 

You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.

“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale. 

“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”

Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.” 

His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow. 

“What are you saying?” you ask him. 

“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.” 

He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom. 

“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by. 

“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”

He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head. 

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”

Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching. 

“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.” 

There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth. 

It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours. 

A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue. 

Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin. 

You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest. 

You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile. 

But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him. 

So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape. 

You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless. 

And for once, it feels like a sure thing. 

…..

epilogue 

Jungwon: SOS

Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy

Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages 

Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help

You: I’m BUSY what do you need

Jungwon: The printer is jammed again

You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance

Jungwon: Oh please 

Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them

Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you

You: Literally what are you talking about

You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks

You: The entire floor was mad at me

You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS

Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE

Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance

Jungwon: I promise

You: …

You: FINE

You: On my way

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown. 

Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen. 

And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.

You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you. 

Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer. 

Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”

He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray. 

“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss. 

“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”

Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”

“I’m not ly–”

“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.  

And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there. 

“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”

“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

outtake — seven months ago.

The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work. 

Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper. 

Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees. 

Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind. 

What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?

He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook. 

Twice. 

With annotations. 

Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw. 

It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day. 

Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly. 

He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now. 

And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will. 

To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him. 

He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down. 

But part of him is excited too. 

He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once. 

He actually fucking did it. 

All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity. 

They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world. 

He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his. 

So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door. 

And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch. 

“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before. 

And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh. 

Oh. 

Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking. 

“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly. 

Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal. 

Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –

“Hi, Jungwon.” 

Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land. 

“Hi,” he manages. 

Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”

Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”

___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl. 

“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent. 

“You know the printer in the workroom?”

Terry nods. 

“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”

Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.” 

And then it’s just the two of you. 

“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about. 

Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain. 

“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”

“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words. 

You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”

His brow furrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels. 

“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”

A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it. 

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows. “For what.”

“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”

“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”

He hopes you mean it. 

And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath. 

“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡

[gffa]

Hi, I'm both curious and interested in starting a fight among the Batman fandom

There's an old joke where the Batmobile is failing to start. Batman says:

"Robin, can you check the battery?"

To which Robin says:

"What's a tery?"

I was just curious which Robin this would have been. Funniest and most likely answer are both acceptable

Here's my answers: All of them made this exact joke. Dick came by it honestly, that's his sense of humor, especially because he likes needling Bruce for a reaction, he is never as proud of himself as when he can get Batman to laugh and dumb jokes are his FAVORITE way of getting a rise out of the man. Jason would make the joke, because he was trying to live up to Dick Grayson's legacy and mold himself in the same image, so he made jokes that weren't really his style sometimes and it was really cute, because Bruce would smile, but the times he would get a real laugh out of Bruce were when he made his own style of jokes. Tim would do it because he was beating Nightwing to the punch on a joke, because Tim Drake may be a Dick Grayson stan first and a human being second, but that often came out in the form of, "I must steal my favorite human being's joke So He Will Approve Of Me." This 100% works, Dick acts offended that his line was stepped on, but he laughs and noogies Tim's head because that's now his baby brother. Steph would do it because she's trying to fit in at the time, trying to live up to the mantle of Robin, because she's seen Tim step on people's jokes and how it's a good ice-breaker and she's really working hard at this. Damian would do it because Damian is The Funniest Child Alive Actually and will whip out a joke when you least expect it, but also because that child's foundation as a superhero was 100% Dick Grayson and sometimes he misses Dick so he makes Dick's stupid joke for him. Ultra Hot Take: Sometimes all five of them try for it at once and NOBODY is happy at the ensuing chaos, because someone has to Win at the joke, because if you're all reaching for it, nobody is annoyed In The Right Way when you make it. EXCEPT when Bruce makes an annoyed little "Hn." noise and then they all swivel their heads towards him at the exact same speed and light up with unholy glee and start chirping it on repeat. "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" on repeat for a solid 30 seconds like a group of parrots in an echo chamber. It's uncanny and Bruce hates it, but, hey, it's teamwork and he wanted them to work together better, don't punish the behavior you want to see, Bruce.

[voidpacifist]

viktor headcanons

[modern-ish edition + meljayvik because I cannot resist, also I'm desperate to see more unhinged little ideas about him outside of being everyone's favorite blorbo. we should fear that man and this is my thesis]

learned a weird amalgamation of martial arts and self defense as a kid due to growing up in zaun. despite being in what was considered the "safer" part of the underground, his mother worried he wouldn't be safe on his own. his core strength and arm strength are absolutely ridiculous

in fact, one time he was hooking up with a fellow academy student, and by the time the whole affair was over with, he was hardly breaking a sweat while the other person was trying to catch their breath. he became somewhat of a local legend at frat parties because not only can he wear someone out for hours but, allegedly, he's real freaky with it too

knows the exact monetary value of different human body organs on the black market. whether or not this is from experience is something jayce and mel are unable to determine. vi is also knowledgeable of this and has traded tragic backstories with him in detail

has had to kill a man before, and tells this to jayce frequently to win petty arguments (jayce never actually believes him, even though it is fully and one hundred percent true). it doesn't work on mel

jayce and mel have a secret chart written of how many substances viktor has tried and with how much frequency. weed is at the top of the list, with alcohol being shockingly low. in spite of coming from a slavic background, viktor didn't learn how to hold very much liquor without feeling ill, but for some reason is fine with the illicit psychedelics that grow naturally in the undercity near the runoff tunnels. so far the list is nearly half a page long

will not hit anyone with his mobility aids but will ABSOLUTELY find ways to blackmail and hustle his way out of embarrassment. he learned the blackmailing skill from mel, and frequently looks to her for information since she somehow knows the most about the student body

extremely morbid sense of humor. jokes about being fatherless/motherless behavior and then hits you with, "I would know :]." mel is an honorary member of the motherless behavior banter, considering her own mother disowned her shortly before she came to piltover

taking care of one another is equal parts give and take with him, jayce, and mel, but it's never in a way that demeans each other or exploits each other's weaknesses. for example, viktor hates being carried or manhandled without consent and finds it incredibly patronizing if someone assumes he needs help without just asking him (common sense, but the student body is full of ableist sharks). if he's having a bad pain day or is finding it hard to move, he and jayce (or he and mel, depending on time and place) have a system for getting him to or from somewhere without drawing much attention and even have specific "I need help but don't want to be stared at about it" phrases

father's half of the family is slavic and mother's half of the family is romani. cannot follow a recipe unless it has specific measurements, but can improvise ANY stew or potato based dish with little more than his nose and a few kitchen tools. jayce can improvise any dish, but will always somehow overdo the spice if it calls for spice. mel is happy to try any and everything they make (on her birthday, she's spoiled with their attempts at making the ethnic food from her family, and she'll never tell them but she's very touched by their efforts)

owned ONE pet in his life and it was a hamster. instead of freaking out over it's death, he studied it's body post mortem until his father declared it a biohazard and forced him to dispose of it

learned most of his chemists knowledge from a disgraced former academy professor, but taught himself everything else he knows (if he couldn't get access to it in school). including, for fun, how to preserve and analyze body parts. he initially wanted to be a surgeon or biomedical engineer, but then stuck with chemistry (specifically regarding infectious diseases) to try and find a cure for the grey

shows up randomly at jayces or mels dorms at strange hours in the evening/morning. the first time he showed up at mel's, she thought a burglary was being attempted. he made it out with a bad knock to the head, but she did make him tea in the aftermath as an apology (he hated it but drank the whole thing anyway)

gets stoned with jinx on the weekends, since she's the only one who can find him good, ethically sourced weed. he pays her back by teaching her things he's learning and researching at the academy

meljayvik + caitvi + timebomb dates but they have to find a way to rent out the whole place because each and every one of them has Some Kind of History with the other academy students even though jinx and ekko are still a couple years shy of college age

viktor threw up at the distinguished innovators competition because jayce did first. it was a whole disaster. they spent hours after the ordeal hyping each other up on gatorade and pure adrenaline. it was the physically worst jayce has ever felt around viktor but far from the worst viktor has ever felt around jayce. this was just days after the two of them met mel, and she spent the rest of the evening forcing them to sleep or eat something that wasn't "pure chemicals." somehow, this ended in a heated debate between herself and viktor about the validity of gatorade as a substantial meal. he still refuses to admit he lost

I've said this before and I'll say it again: he has a closet full of ramen. mel takes from his stash often

can run on caffeine and very little sleep to the point where he is physically incapable of resting like a normal human being without feeling drained. flu season is absolute hell

showed up to one of his lectures shirtless once because he was in a hurry. fed everyone who looked at him funny the most outrageous sob story about how "weak" he was, then laughed about it with mel and jayce like an absolute sociopath for days about it. jayce did not find it altogether very funny. mel and him still joke about it

beat vi in an arm wrestling contest before he got sick. still almost beat her after his diagnosis too, but still took the betting money anyway. she'll never admit she's slightly terrified of him, but it shows

can wield many different kinds of knives but is terribly clumsy when it comes to other weapons like clubs and swords and staffs. tapped out of adaptive sports within his first week because it was "boring him." spent the next month teaching martial arts to his fellow disabled peers until the board made it an official extracurricular

turned sky down in the nicest but most insane way possible. nobody knows what happened or how, just that they ended up spending MORE time together after the fact and that it involved illicit activities. the rumors were insufferable for weeks. and wildly funny

(please feel free to add more, I'm gonna start a collection)

[brunchable]

The Door's Locked, but My Lips Aren't | Steve Rogers x f!reader

Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Forced Proximity. Rivals with Benefits? Verbal Sparring, Flirting through bickering. Summary: When you went to the Avengers' storage room for a quick errand, the last thing you espected is to get stuck with Captain Smug himself, Steve Rogers. With the door refusing to budge, who knew being trapped with your most annoying teammate would lead to an infuriatingly good kiss? A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. . .

It was just a quick errand to retrieve some equipment. That’s what you told yourself as you headed toward the storage room at the Avengers compound. You were hoping to get in and out without running into anyone—specifically him. But the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Because standing right in front of the exact shelf you needed was Steve Rogers, his back turned as he inspected a box of supplies.

You stopped in your tracks, sighing so deeply it felt like your soul left your body. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath, half considering turning around and coming back later.

“What was that?” Steve asked, voice gratingly smug as he turned to face you, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” you said, voice tight and overly polite as you marched past him, heading for the door you’d only half-closed behind you. “Just talking to myself.”

“Not much company then, is it?” Steve’s tone was all mock innocence as he leaned casually against the shelf, crossing his arms and giving you that infuriating, smirking look that made you want to either punch him or… or do something else. But that was beside the point.

You shot him a glare, reached for the door handle, and turned it. It didn’t budge.

“What the—” You pulled again, harder this time. Still nothing.

“Great,” Steve said, his voice dripping with faux sympathy as he peered over your shoulder. “Look what you did.”

“What I did?” You whirled on him, the door handle rattling in your hand. “You were already in here. If anything, it’s your fault.”

��How is it my fault?” Steve looked almost amused now, leaning closer, too close, with that damn infuriating smile of his. “You’re the one who walked in and—what? Forgot how to use a door?”

Your lips parted in shock, and you jabbed a finger into his chest, making him step back. “No, I’m not the one who broke it! What’d you do, Captain America? Shove it too hard with those freakishly big hands of yours?”

Steve blinked, his gaze flicking to your hand still resting on his chest, then back up to your face. Something flared behind his eyes—something hot and challenging.

“First of all,” Steve began slowly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous murmur, “my hands aren’t freakishly big. They’re just right.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shot back, words laced with challenge. “You know what they say about guys who talk too much about their size.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s gaze dipped to your lips briefly before snapping back up to meet your eyes, a smug smile forming. “What do they say about girls who—” He paused, gaze dropping to your chest and then back up, brow raised. “—can’t seem to fill out a shirt?”

Your mouth dropped open. “You did not just—”

“What?” Steve shrugged, unbothered by the murderous look in your eyes. “I’m just saying, if you wanna talk size—”

“Oh my god, you are unbelievable.” You threw your hands up, your heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You think I care about your opinion?”

“Nope, not at all,” Steve said, smirking. “But you’re the one getting worked up.”

“I’m not worked up.” You shot him a fiery look before grabbing the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head, leaving you in only a snug tank top. “See? Nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Steve’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, flicking over your bare arms and shoulders, then lingering on the curve of your neckline. His grin widened.

“There, was that so hard?” he murmured, voice lower now, his gaze hot.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you bit back, feeling both a thrill and annoyance at the way he looked at you. “I bet you’re feeling warm too. Maybe you should lose a layer.”

“You just wanna see me without a shirt on, huh?” Steve said, his grin widening as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. “Alright. Whatever makes you feel better.”

You swallowed as inch by inch, Steve’s chest was revealed. He didn’t stop until his shirt was completely unbuttoned, hanging loosely over those stupid, sculpted muscles.

“Happy?” Steve asked, voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Not as happy as you probably think,” you bit out, hating the way your voice wavered.

“Mmhmm. Sure.” He leaned even closer, his breath brushing your ear. “It’s okay to admit you’re curious. I get it.”

“Curious about what?” you scoffed, but your voice came out breathless, the air thickening between you. “About what you’re compensating for under all that spandex?”

Steve’s eyes darkened at that, a challenge sparking in his gaze. “You wanna bet on it?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What, you gonna whip it out right here?” you fired back, trying to sound bold even as your pulse roared in your ears. “Should I go get a ruler?”

He gave a low chuckle, leaning back a bit but not breaking eye contact. “We both know I’d win. But hey, if you’re looking for proof—”

You didn’t let him finish. In a flash, you pushed him back against the shelf, lips crashing against his in a sudden, heated kiss. Steve responded instantly, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him as if you were the only thing grounding him.

The kiss was rough and desperate, all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you bit down on his bottom lip, earning a low, hungry growl from Steve.

His hands roamed your body, sliding up your back, fingers grazing your bare skin, before one hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You felt his heart hammering against your chest, the heat of his body searing through you as his lips moved against yours, fierce and demanding.

You gasped as Steve’s mouth trailed down your jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your head fell back against the shelf, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each one making your pulse race faster.

“Still think I’m compensating?” Steve’s voice was a low growl against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

Your grip tightened in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. “Shut up, Rogers.”

Steve grinned against your lips, that damn infuriating smirk still there. “Make me.”

Before you could respond, the door suddenly creaked open, and you both tore apart, lips swollen, breaths coming in harsh pants.

Sam stood there, eyes wide. “Uh… sorry. Didn’t realize you two were, uh, busy.”

Your cheeks flushed as you scrambled to say something, anything. But Steve’s arm was still half around your waist, his shirt unbuttoned, your top askew, and he looked unbothered—more than that, he looked… amused.

“We were just—”

Sam held up a hand, backing away. “Yeah, no, no need to explain. I’ll… just—” He paused, shut the door halfway, opened it again just to shake his head. “You know what, figure it out yourselves. But hey, keep it PG-13, alright?”

And with that, he was gone.

You turned back to Steve, breath hitching as your gazes locked. A slow grin spread across his face, and you knew you were in trouble.

“So, where were we?” Steve asked, voice teasing, that familiar challenge lighting up his gaze.

“Oh, shut up.” You grabbed him by the open shirt, yanking him down until your lips crashed together in a heated, desperate kiss.

Who knew being stuck with Steve Rogers could be so… electrifying?

[rinky-dinky-dink]

Star Sanses But There's More Of Them

Figured I would make a sort of master post for my Star Sanses interpretation! This is just an idea I'm playing around with, I don't plan on making a proper storyline for them at the moment. Just me exploring characters!

Long post ahead-

General:

All five members have star badges, per Blue's insistence ("So they look more like a team!" Ink liked the idea of them all sharing a design element, and Sugarplum thought the idea was fun, so Dream and Red were outvoted). The badges are equippable items to give each member a bit of a boost in combat (exact stats have yet to be decided).

Combat:

The five of them end up a pretty efficient team in fights, especially against Nightmare's Gang (plus Error sometimes). Even when Dream is occupied fully with Nightmare, and Ink's attention is on Error - Blue, Red, and Sugarplum manage to hold their own even as incodes. Combat roles (per the rules of DnD, for no real reason) are as follows:

Dream is the leader, he maintains party focus and morale, and generally decides the strategy going into a fight. His ability to sense the feelings of others allows him to monitor his teammates even during combat, so he can call for a retreat if necessary. (Switches to/also serves controller role, when needed.)

Ink is the group's striker, he's fast and he hits hard with precision, but it can be difficult for him to focus on more than one enemy at a time. Stays up close to the opponents, falls back behind the others on occasion to refill his paints or regain his bearings. (When fully necessary, he can use his brush to take broader strokes and serve as controller with color coded AoE attacks. Can serve as leader in extremely rare situations, but that's not nearly as fun, so he's content to let Dream do it.)

Blue is the defender, he's the tankiest of the group despite his shorter stature. He has the highest base defense of the group's three incodes, since he's essentially a Papyrus. Not much aggression in combat, preferring to help cover the others as they attack. (Can switch to striker role, if necessary.)

Red is the controller of the group, his bones and blasters let him cover a wide area from a safer distance. His stats still aren't great, so he hangs back from up close combat, and relies on Blue to help maintain the distance, especially when he gets tired and needs a bit of time to recover.

Sugarplum is also a controller, technically speaking. He focuses less on direct combat and more on effects, usually ACTing to lower an opponent's AT, DF, or speed. He also hangs back from direct fighting most of the time, and heals the others (mostly Blue) when their HP gets too low.

General Team Dynamics:

Dream: The leader of the group, as agreed by everyone else. He's friendly and easy to get along with, so he serves as a good "face" for the team. (Ink also thinks Dream having his own "gang" is a fun parallel to Nightmare!) Keeps the group on track when on missions, when the others' antics (affectionate) threaten to veer them off course. He's nervous about the responsibility this sort of role comes with, and whether or not his aura is skewing his teammates' evaluation of him as a leader, but he's determined to do his best.

Ink: Local menace. Bastard. Usually the cause/intigator of the team's distractions. Here to have a good time, occasionally at the expense of others. Sends cursed memes to the team groupchat at 3am. Luckily the others don't mind his sense of humor (Red thinks he's funny as hell sometimes), and Blue's general enthusiasm usually just serves as fuel to his fire. Will randomly give his teammates a thoughtful gift (a trinket he found somewhere that reminded him of them), and then steal food off their plate before they can say "thank you." Overall he's having a good time, and the others have just accepted this weird eldritch paint skeleton on their team.

Blue: Underswap Sans! As peppy as ever, always there to cheer on his friends and tell them he believes in them. Tends to get caught up in his own excitement sometimes, but means well! His ability to befriend even the more hostile residents of the multiverse makes him the glue of the team, keeping everyone together and on the same page even when Dream and Ink argue, or Red is a bit too abraisive. Since being exposed to the multiverse and joining the team, he's changed his focus from being a royal guard back home, to being a hero alongside his friends. There are people to be helped, and he's found the recognition he's always wanted but couldn't quite achieve back home. He's still technically a sentry back in Snowdin, and still has to return relatively frequently to keep the whole multiverse thing under wraps, but his brother helps cover for his absence. (Papyrus isn't super fond of the whole concept, especially not Ink, but he supports his brother 100%.)

Red: Underfell Sans! The designated grump of the group, he still hasn't really shaken off the defensive habits he learned from back home. The "tough guy" of the Stars, he's generally not a bad guy once you get past that wall he keeps up. Is steadily improving, unlearning a lifetime of defensiveness and distrust is difficult. (His jacket is heavy, and he would drop it over a teammate's shoulders in lieu of a weighted blanket if they needed it though. Just don't go spreading those kinds of rumors about him.) Has not told his brother about his multiverse-hopping escapades with the other Stars, partially out of worry that his universe will start bleeding out into more peaceful ones. He's dodging that particular conversation with everything he has.

Sugarplum: Underlust Sans! Doesn't really live in his own universe anymore, spends 99% of his time in the Omega Timeline. Doesn't like to talk about his universe, dodges any questions in relation to it (luckily in multiversal etiquette it's considered rude to ask questions about someone's universe, unless invited to do so). Didn't start out as much of a fighter, and still doesn't quite match up to the other Stars, but he can hold his own in a pinch. All the fighting and training and running around burns energy, which helps keep his soul from acting up. Wine aunt energy, always up to date on drama in the OT. Generally pretty chill, with an easygoing attitude that lets him help Blue smooth things over when conflicts arise in the team. Drinking buddies with Red, can relate to having a messed up universe he'd rather not discuss.

~~~~~~~~~

Dream -> @/jokublog Ink -> @/comyet Blue -> @/popcornpr1nce Red -> @/underfell Sugarplum -> @/nsfwshamecave

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> after passing this halfway mark

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1.3k tw: anxiety, sleep deprivation italics are interviews cut between scenes + english a/n: joshua has my whole heart and soul - enjoy cyana being the maternal figure even though she's the youngest lol

Joshua’s head felt like it was splitting in half. 

“Could you pass me the aspirin?” He asked one of the passing staff, his head throbbing just from the sound of his own voice. It felt like any noise would reverbreate, bouncing around in his skull and crushing his mind. 

He could feel Cyana’s worried eyes on him as he swallowed down the pill. 

“Shua.” She beckoned to him with a wave of her hand, patting the spot next to her. “Come here.” 

He humored her, stumbling over and flopping down onto the couch. Closing his eyes, he bit back a curse. He hated the headaches he’d get whenever he was sleep deprived. 

“My grandmother used to massage my head whenever I got headaches.” Cyana motioned for him to lie down, placing his head gently down in her lap. “My hands are kinda cold, sorry.” 

Joshua closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her hands playing with his hair, traveling down to his temples and rubbing firmly. He let out a deep sigh, the weight that had been beating against his skull lessened. 

From above him, Cyana began to hum, enjoying how peaceful Joshua looked in her lap, the scrunch between his eyebrows disappearing as he relaxed. 

“Sleep, Shua.” She whispered, drawing circles against his temples. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Our American tour was special to me because I was born there. I was excited to see all my friends and family. I wanted them to see how much I had grown up.” Joshua smiled. “So our American tour was extra special.” 

“Who’s most likely to kick someone while sleeping?” 

Cyana raised the headshot of Mingyu, laughing at his betrayed expression. She was surprised that she was enjoying their media promotion run, feeling much more free when answering interview questions in English. 

She knew Joshua felt the exact opposite though. As the oldest English speaking member, it was natural for the responsibility of navigating foreign interviews to fall on his shoulders. 

“I felt a sense of responsibility to carry the team through the questions well.” Joshua explained. “So I would always look through the scripts and questions beforehand, discussing them with Vernon and Nana.”

“How should we answer this one?” Joshua pointed at question 3, the one about TMIs they could give as a group. 

Vernon shrugged. “We haven’t got much TMIs.” 

“Just talk about sleeping a lot during tour. Or that Mingyu and Wonwoo went to a museum yesterday.” Cyana nudged Joshua gently. “It doesn’t have to be anything that interesting.” She giggled at her next thought. “It’s not like we can say ‘Hoshi takes 45 minutes to shit’ on Buzzfeed.” 

From beside her, Vernon gasped for breath as he laughed. Joshua smacked her shoulder, proud of her joke. 

“I see all that media training Coups put you through is paying off.” He commented through spouts of laughter. 

Cyana held her head up highly, proud. “Of course.” 

“We should say that though.” Vernon nudged Joshua. “Right? It’d be funny.” 

“Soonyoung might kill us.” 

“Joshua took most of the questions during our media press tour.” Cyana admitted to the camera, looking a bit regretful. “The rest of them tried their best, but it was just better coming from a fluent speaker. Vernon took some questions too but I-” She paused, looking a bit ashamed. “I was too nervous to do much. I wish I had done more, so Shua wouldn’t have felt so much of the burden.”

Cyana groaned through a mouthful of Chicago pizza, relishing the flavour and texture. “This is amazing.” She spoke to Joshua, her words muffled as she pointed to the large slice in her hands.

He was busy eating his own slice, eyes focused on a tv show playing from his phone. 

She found herself spending most nights with Joshua, as the others preferred to explore the city and host mini parties in their hotel rooms. She’d only return back to her and Dino’s shared room once Dino texted to let her know that the party was over. 

She just preferred quiet nights like this over anything else in the world. 

“Hey!” She protested when Hoshi, appearing out of nowhere, reached over and snuck a bite off her pizza. 

Smiling at her with twinkling eyes, Hoshi merely pinched her cheek in retaliation. “Thanks, Nana. It’s delicious.”

“I know it’s delicious. It’s mine though.” She shielded the rest of her slice from him. “There’s more on the table over there.” 

Wonwoo stepped into the room, moving to stand behind her. “It smells good.” He mused, staring longingly at the slice in her hands. 

A tiny smile crossed her face almost subconsciously, as she lifted her hands and allowed him to take a bite. “It’s good right?”

“Favourtism.” Hoshi grumbled from behind a nodding Wonwoo.

“We’re going outside.” Wonwoo gesutred between him and Hoshi to Cyana. “Do you want to join?”

She shook her head, reaching up to wipe the sauce that had somehow landed itself on his chin. Neither one reacted to the gesture, continuing on as if the intimate contact was just another normal moment. Joshua and Hoshi however, exchanged unmistakable looks of interest. 

“Seventeen is a team that made my dream come true and made my mom proud of me.” Joshua’s eyes shone as he spoke. “Seventeen made me a special person, and since only good things came to me, I’d say Seventeen is a blessing.” 

“You should sleep, Shua.” Cyana chided from her spot on Jeonghan’s bed. Dino’s little gathering with the others was dragging on later than usual and she found herself taking solace with the 95 line. 

Joshua shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t be able to sleep even if I tried.” 

“I think I probably only slept two hours a day that month.” He admitted to the camera, sheepish. “It was hard to sleep when there was so much to worry about.” 

“Listen to Nana.” Jeonghan mumbled from the bed, his eyes already closed. “Go to sleep.” 

“Your mind is whirring too fast when you try to sleep, right?” Cyana asked him, switching suddenly to English. “And it’s like your mind is running on a train track with no brakes.” 

Joshua nodded slowly. The thing that had been ailing him was finally being put into words. 

Cyana hopped from Jeonghan’s bed over to his, crossing over Jeonghan’s body with poise and grace.

“And all you can think about is the past, the future, moments that you’ve forgotten for so long.” Cyana had a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke, sitting down. “And it’s like a whirlpool, sucking you in.”

“That’s right.” Joshua mumbled, watching as she got comfortable against the pillows on his bed. “How do you deal with it? Shut it off.” 

Cyana offered him a small smile that looked more like a grimace. “If I knew I would have told you a long time ago.” She motioned for him to join her, her hands grabbing the air. “We just have to try and sleep. And think about something else.” 

He closed the lights, whispering a quiet goodnight to Jeonghan before sliding into bed. “Like what?”

“I think about you guys.” She admitted in the darkness. “And all the happy and silly moments.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

“Right?” She shuffled a bit, twisting to see his face in the darkness. She could just make out the frame of his face and his doe eyes, staring back at her. “I think there’s something beautiful about drifting off the sleep picturing the ones you love most.”

“I thought you were going back to your room.” He whispered, careful not to disturb Jeonghan. “Didn’t you tell Dino you’d be back?”

“I’ll stay here tonight.” She whispered back. “I’m too lazy to move.” 

Joshua knew that wasn’t the truth. He knew she was staying for him, to make sure he actually fell asleep. He felt his heart clench with strong affection. 

“Thank you.” 

Cyana turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Of course.” 

She liked saying that. Of course. Because everything she did for them was guaranteed and granted. There was never a need for any thank yous because of course she’d do anything for them. 

a/n: anxiety and having a mind that runs too fast is actually the worse combination possible.

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 5

Part 5 - Translating humor and wordplay

Translating jokes from one language to another can be difficult, especially when the humor revolves around wordplay that's only apparent in the original language. Luckily for a comedy series like SxF, most of the humor relies on concepts that are universal to all languages, but there are the occasional jokes that require creative translation in order to get the same effect in English. What I think is the most well-known example of this kind of joke in SxF is from chapter 26, where Yuri tells Anya that "knowledge is power" during their tutoring session.

The Japanese phrase for this is 知は力 ("chi wa chikara"). Anya mishears this as ちわわぢから ("chiwawa jikara"), which means "chihuahua power," which is why we see the image of a muscular chihuahua in her thoughts. This results in Yuri calling her チワワ娘 ("chihuahua girl") from then on. Obviously this joke would be lost if translated directly, so Casey Loe, the official English translator for the SxF manga, got creative with making it work in English. He cleverly utilizes the English expression, "the whole enchilada," which sounds enough like "swole chihuahua" for Anya to believably mistake the two. This translation also makes it so that Yuri calling Anya "chihuahua girl" later on makes sense.

But unfortunately, because a series can have different companies working on the localization of its anime versus its manga, inconsistencies between the two often come up. In this case, the anime team translated this joke completely differently, and less effectively in my opinion. You can see from the below screenshots that they had Yuri use the word "unleash," which then led to Anya associating a (muscular) dog without a leash as powerful (?) Again, this translation was a stretch in my opinion and not as good as the manga version. This also makes it so that translating Yuri's nickname for Anya as "chihuahua girl" won't make sense.

But what's interesting is that, many months and episodes later in season 2, they stayed consistent with that translation and had Yuri call Anya "stupid leash girl" in episode 28.

Despite my dislike for this translation, I have to give them kudos for remembering it all that time later and not just directly translating it as "chihuahua girl." Though it makes me wonder if they'll stay consistent in season 3 where Yuri will be referring to Anya as "chihuahua girl" once again.

A further complication is that, not only do these kinds of inconsistencies exist between the anime and manga translations, but they also exist between the different streaming services that stream SxF with English subtitles throughout the world. I only have access to the subtitled version from Hulu, which is where my screenshots are from, and I think other streaming services in the US like Crunchyroll, Amazon, Netflix, etc, use the exact same subtitles. So when I refer to "the Hulu subtitles" throughout this post, I mean other major US streaming services too. However, I'm not totally sure if they all do share the same subtitle script, so if anyone who has these services could confirm, that would be great! However, @tare-anime informed me that Muse Asia's English subtitles for SxF are completely different! For example, they translated the above joke more closely to the original, by using the phrase "puppy power" and keeping Yuri's nickname for Anya as "chihuahua girl."

There are further differences with Muse Asia's translation as well, for example, they directly translate Anya's names for Loid and Yor, "chichi" and "haha," as "Father" and "Mother" instead of "Papa" and "Mama."

(thanks again to Tare for the Muse Asia screenshots!) This is different, not only compared to the Hulu subtitles, but also the official English manga as well, both of which have Anya consistently use "Papa" and "Mama."

Tare also let me know that Disney Plus in Asia, another service that streams SxF, has yet another version of the English subtitles! And these are only the subtitled versions for the US and Asia - if SxF is streamed with English subtitles in other countries, I wonder if those are different as well. That means there's at least 3-4 different English subtitle scripts for SxF, with different ways of translating certain things, like what I described above. This could make things confusing for someone without any knowledge of Japanese who reads the English version of the manga and watches the subtitled version of the anime on one or more streaming services...if they read the first few volumes of the manga with the "swole chihuahua" translation, then watch season 2 of the anime, they're gonna be confused about why Yuri calls Anya "stupid leash girl." There's other more minor inconsistencies too, like how the Hulu subtitles have Yor call Anya "Miss Anya" all the time, but the manga doesn't.

I'm sure there's some licensing reasons why there isn't one official English subtitle script that all the streaming services can use, and why they don't consult the manga translations, especially for the more difficult-to-translate parts. It seems like wasted effort for so many official English translations to exist for the same thing.

But anyway, back to the translations of jokes in SxF, another one that stood out to me occurred in chapter 23. During the scene where Loid is asking Anya about a name for Bond, he explains how dogs have trouble discerning the sounds of consonants. The phrase he uses for this is 子音の聞き分け("shiin no kiki wake"), which means "distinguishing consonants," with "shiin" meaning "consonant." However, there's another word "shiin" with the kanji 死因 that means "cause of death." This is what Yor thinks he means - 死因の聞き分け ("shiin no kiki wake"), which means "determining the cause of death." So in her thoughts, she imagines asking Bond if he prefers death by blood loss (失血死) or by being crushed (圧死), and when he shakes his head at both, she says "you're not good at these distinctions, are you?"

This is a difficult joke to translate, so Casey got a bit loose by having Loid use the word "plosives" instead of "consonants," and then having Yor mishear it as "explosives." He then changed up Yor's dialogue by having her say that Bond prefers C-4 explosions over other methods of death.

While I don't think the translation of this joke worked as well as the previous one (I feel like Yor wouldn't know about C-4 explosions?) I couldn't come up with anything better myself, lol. It just goes to show how translating things as closely to the original as possible isn't always the best choice…but oddly, that's what the Hulu subtitles did! For some reason they opted not to even attempt to rework this joke for English, and kept both Loid and Yor's dialogue as exact translations. This results in an exchange that makes no sense and will leave people wondering how Yor could mistake Loid's "can't tell consonants apart" as "can't tell causes of death apart."

However, there are some cases where the wordplay works similar enough in both Japanese and English that the joke can be translated without too much modification. An example of this is in chapter 59 where Becky asks Yor how she was able to "get" Loid…"pierce his heart" as she puts it. Yor thinks she means this literally, to which she replies that she wouldn't hurt Loid.

The Japanese version is very similar, with Becky using the verb 射止める("itomeru") which means "to shoot down" (with an arrow). However, it has a figurative meaning too, which is "to win" as in "win someone's heart." Yor thinks Becky means the literal meaning of shooting down, so she says that she wouldn't shoot Loid and that she doesn't even use a bow and arrows.

The Hulu subtitles translate it more or less directly, having Becky say "shoot an arrow through his heart" and keeping Yor's "I don't use a bow and arrows" that the manga omitted. Rare case where I think the anime translation worked better than the manga!

In the case of this joke, the concept of "shooting someone's heart" to mean "winning someone's heart" is universal in both English and Japanese, so little reworking was needed. This also helped keep consistency with Yor's tendency to associate otherwise benign concepts with violence due to the nature of her work.

I'll wrap up this post with what I think is the most commendable translation of a joke so far in the manga: how Casey translated the names of the guest characters at the ski resort in chapter 94.

Their names are puns in Japanese as well, and Annie over on Twitter already did a great breakdown of how each of the wordplay in their names was translated, so definitely check out that thread here. Since this chapter has yet to be animated, I'm really curious how the anime translators will handle this…since it seems like they don't reference the manga, they'll probably either translate the names literally or come up with their own pun names, and either will unfortunately lead to the same kind of inconsistencies between the anime and manga translations that I touched on earlier.

To summarize, humor can be a very culture/language specific thing, so it's up to the translator to make sure the same feeling is conveyed in their translation even if they have to essentially make up their own jokes. With that said, it's a shame that there isn't collaboration between the translators of the anime and manga to ensure consistent translations across the franchise. So I hope this post helped shed light, not just on how some of the jokes in SxF were conveyed in Japanese, but also on why some things in the English version of SxF seem inconsistent between the anime and manga.

<- Return to Part 4

[igotanidea]

Cracking: Damian Wayne x reader

part 5 of "Family rules" series.

He was going mad.

For a girl.

Nothing he ever thought would happen to someone like him.

A guy raised by assassins and Batman, who was used to putting his feelings at bay if even having any.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was impossible for someone as perceptive as Robin himself to miss her paleness and sadness. At least whenever he was near. 

And avoiding him at any cost.

And – as it usually happens – the teachers were completely oblivious to the situation and that was about to be the source of a hell of a problem for both Damian and Y/N.

“Pairs? What do you mean we’ll be working in pairs?!” she exclaimed at one history lesson upon hearing the great idea of their tutor.

“Is that such a horror for you, Y/N?” the teacher smiled through the glasses and in any other situation it would be almost benevolent but not this time.

“Yes!”

“Well I am afraid the class has already divided so you just have to comply.”

“But—”  she spun around and groaned both internally and externally upon realizing that her little outburst only left her one person to work with. “Fucking great…” she muttered noticing Damian swinging casually on his seat, not having a single care in the world.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“I’m not working with him!”

“Getting scared, Y/L/N?” Damian smirked, knowing well how to use the opportunity. He’s been trying to talk to her for the last two weeks since that little beating in the hallway but she was surprisingly skilled in disappearing in thin air. And since he was also a teenage boy, mocking and teasing seemed the only way to reach his goal.

“Pff!” she scoffed, crossing arms over his chest. The need to prove herself superior to him was fighting with an iron resolve to forget his existence.

“Y/N, sit down now and do not make a scene. I do not understand what’s been happening to you lately.” The teacher instructed, clearly losing patience with one of the best students.

“Fine…” she muttered, plumping on the chair as far from Damian as possible, still grumpy, hardly even listening to the teacher’s instructions on the task.

“Fate definitely has a wicked sense of humor huh, Y/L/N?”

“Can you just shut up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, no shit genius.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well I am asking so clearly I do.”

“You don’t really strike me as a caring type, Wayne.”

“Maybe not by your definition. Not my fault you are so conceited you mess up care and selfishness.” He mocked.

“What did you say?” Y/N hissed

Damian smirked. This was the exact reaction he was trying to get out of her.

“You call me selfish, you little prick?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You piece of shit. You look down on everybody because you are fucking Wayne and you dare reflect all your fucking traits onto me!?”

The girl didn’t even notice how her voice got louder and how she was suddenly standing instead of sitting and quietly working on the task. She missed the fact that she was making a scene for the whole class to see, once again dragging all the attention to herself. And once again the reason for her emotional outburst was Damian Wayne. Who she hated with all her heart. Who made her act like a fool and clearly – bring out the worst of the good girl she always considered herself to be.

“Who do you think you fucking are?!” Her self-control was now completely gone “You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and have zero consequences coming from it!?”

Thank god the phones were not allowed in classes cause at this moment she would definitely end up being a meme on social media.

“Y/N!” the teacher finally woke up from the shock that her transformation brought upon everyone. “Enough! Principal’s office. Now. In fact – “ he looked around, his gaze landing on Damian. “Both of you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. There is no basis for me to go –” Damian stated with the most cold voice he could produce.

“I don’t care!” the teacher seemed to finally lose his cool “you two are trouble and I’m not having either in my class. Now off you go. Out!” he pointed to the doors and with exchanged hateful glances Y/N and Damian decided to obey. Part of the reason was also the fact that they both knew they were in full capacity to drive the principal crazy just by showing up on the doorstep to his den.

***

“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as soon as they were out the door and on the empty hallway.

“Oh, me? You are the one who seems to be constantly looking for my attention.”

“And why do you think that is?” The sudden change in his tone took her by such a surprise she stopped and dared to do something that did not happen in a few weeks. She looked at him. More precisely, into his eyes. And in them, she saw something she did not like. At all.

Emotions.

Pain.

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Affection!?

“Damian…” she gulped heavily trying to clear her head and calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You are annoying. Unnerving.” He hissed, his eyes fixed on hers “Messed up. I don’t understand you. You are a mystery I cannot crack. And it’s making me angry.”

If he was a normal person he would probably clench his fists right now.

“Then why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Stop yelling.” Damian grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom so that no one would catch them causing disturbances in the hallway. “How come for years we didn’t care about each other and now we can’t seem to be within five feet distance without fighting?”

“Oh please!” she scoffed leaning on the door “Care? Have you been reading a dictionary and learning new words?”

“You are getting on my nerves here Y/L/N.” Damian took a step closer to her trying to look menacing and as much Robin-like as possible.

“Then let me ask you again – why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?”

“Because I can’t!”

There. The armor cracked and even though he barely said anything it felt awful. He exposed himself. Showed his weak points to the enemy.  Lost on his own wish.

For a moment his words seemed to echo from the empty walls of the classroom, the air filled with tension.

“You’re not even trying are you? Damian?” her voice was surprisingly quiet and soft, even to herself.

“No…” he confessed, unable to fight against those e/c eyes fixed on his face “no… no, I am not trying.”

“Damian…”

“Please…” now he was so low as to stoop to begging. And it was humiliating. Downgrading. Scary. “Please don’t run from me, Y/L/N. You are driving me mad.”

All it took was one more look. One more exchange of glances filled with mixed emotions.

And they were back to that gala night.

The classroom was gone, the school forgotten and all that mattered was holding her close, preventing her from running away and that strange, strange, unknown feeling in his chest.

Everything important in this moment came down to the feeling of his arms around her, hearing his heartbeat against her ear and calming the storm of the emotions neither of them understood.

For some reason, simply holding onto each other felt like a peace amongst the storm. Like a lighthouse guiding them to safe haven amongst the families feud and last-names competition.

“What are we gonna do-?” he was the one to cut the silence, the weight of questions pressing onto his shoulders making him speak before he could think about the consequences of his doubts.

“I don’t know-“ said implications took form of her pulling back from him “I don’t know Damian-“

“Don’t go-“ with the reflex of a vigilante Damian gripped her arm causing her to whimper in pain. “Y/l/n? You good? What happened?” The strength he used was definitely not enough to make her react like this.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing!” she responded quickly trying to wriggle away. Too quickly. Quickly enough to make him suspicious and ignoring her protest to push him to roll her sleeve a little.

“What--?” the words died in his throat as he noticed the purple bruise on her forearm.

“It’s nothing!” she yanked free “you had no right!”

“I’m –” Damian stuttered. He messed up again.

“You’re a prick!”

“I’m sorry! But if we’re about to do- this-“ it was impossible to use the word concerning possible relationship or anything of sort – “you need to tell me. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, torn between a lot of mixed things. Could she tell him? Could she not tell him? Every move came with the consequences, almost like she was reduced to a figure on the chessboard, constantly moved by someone else. Without any power to control her own life.

But one thing was certain.

Some things and some feelings were worth protecting.

And that’s why she had only one way of surviving.

“I can’t.” she whispered with a sad, apologetic smile. “I can’t, Damian.” Without missing a beat she leaned forward, kissing him as if trying to sweeten the bitter words. Pulling everything she had into the brief contact of lips on lips, like a silent apology of putting him through the mess.

Before Damian realized what was happening he was kissing her back, pulling her close, caressing her back, in his own way trying to show her he was going to protect her. But what did he know? He was only 17 with zero power to shape reality. And when he felt her slip from his grasp and losing her warmth against him that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

But it didn’t mean he was going to give up.

Not now. Not ever. Not until she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.

***

 “How was school today?” her father asked her as soon as she stepped over the door to home. There was no denying Mr Y/L/N became very interested in his daughter's progress at school.

“It was normal.” Y/N couldn’t care less about his fake concern, trying to walk past him and get into her room.

“Ah! Not so fast, young lady. Did you do what I asked of you?”

“No.” The girl frowned, putting hands on her hips in a poor attempt at a power pose.

“No?”

“No!”

“Then I suppose we have to have the talk again, don’t we, little girl?”

She was in deep trouble that seemed to have no end….

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Moments of Kisses with SKZ

SKZ x Reader - 8 short scenarios suggestive wc: 827

✧˖°🌹Chan

‘One more’, Chan breaths into your open mouth, pressing his lips against yours with the soft force that carries him through life. 

If you had the ability to breathe, you would inhale him with all he has to give. You know he would let you. 

‘May I return to this for the rest of my life?’, he asks with his gentle hand on your jaw, tracing along your cheeks as if he was the embodiment of a comfortable summer breeze. 

‘Even then you’ll ask for one more’, you chuckle.

‘I am sure of that’, he agrees with his shy, almost embarrassed smile. 

✧˖°🌹Minho

It’s only one tear, one tear that rolls down his cheek, while his eyes remain stoic. 

You catch it with the tip of your finger, placing a kiss on the exact spot it touched his skin the last. 

A simple action has always been enough to cause Minho to switch on his hedonistic side, diving into a kiss with you as if were the only thing that could ever make him feel happiness again.

‘I’m not going anywhere’, you laugh when he takes a frustrated break to breathe. 

He nods, seriously. You are not going anywhere. Happiness is not going anywhere. 

✧˖°🌹Changbin

It is sleep that he longs for while fearing it. The trouble of relying on something so unreliable causes only distress. Distress can only be solved by relaxation. He stresses out about being relaxed. Ironic. 

Then you appear and lay your head on his shoulder, your arm around his middle, minimalistically caressing his waist. It is impactful. 

‘Lie down’, you instruct and he obeys with full trust, gladly letting you tell him what to do, so that he doesn’t have to waste worries on the task of decision making. 

Facing you so closely changes out the script his mind follows. 

Chasing your lips turns out to be the easiest challenge in the world, for the time remaining the only challenge as sleep settles in quite incidentally. 

✧˖°🌹Hyunjin

You have felt his lips everywhere. He made sure that you memorize them with all your senses, with all of your physical being. He takes initiative to let you know he is here only for you, with only you in mind, with only you for all his intentions, yet your favorite way of kissing him is when it’s you who approaches him. 

His shock never gets old. It is as if he is surprised that you feel even remotely the same thing for him, that he gets to be loved exactly in the way he understands to love. And when his cheeks burn in shock and shyness, realization sinking in every time again as if you wouldn’t have already let him know all of you being here only for him, you just have to playfully kiss over his whole face. The mutual giggles are happily dancing through the air as an echo of your touch.

✧˖°🌹Jisung

You hear his heartbeat. You feel his breath. You taste his lips. 

‘Look at you’, he whispers in a moment of collecting composure. 

There is no way to see yourself in the dark corner of the hallway, caged by Jisung and the walls. You can sense your beauty in his demeanor and something beyond confidence rushes through your body. 

✧˖°🌹Felix

His hand kisses are silly. His forehead kisses are safe. His cheek kisses are sweet. And his neck kisses hot. But when his lips touch your lips it’s peaceful. The world turns silent and calmth settles in. It’s a vacuum he has the ability to create. It puts your existence into perspective and allows you to live on from every kiss with more clarity, in tune with your reality and a bit more aligned with yourself again. 

✧˖°🌹Seungmin 

Let him be a fool. Let him play with you. Let him mock you, make fun of you. He will return desperate at the end of the day, desiring nothing more than your kisses to be assured that you understand him, that his humor is not too much, that he isn’t. Use his jokes against him. Mock him in your sweetest tone. Play into his amusement. He will shut you up with his lips on yours, smiling into the kiss with all the depths of his appreciation for you being able to live meeting him on the same wavelength.

✧˖°🌹Jeongin

It’s his clothes you’re dressed in at day time. It’s his kisses you’re dressed in during night time. He makes sure that you are feeling the familiar safety he has to offer during every second of your time with him. There is no way he'd leave you unattended at the risk of feeling lonely in this world. And when his clothes only cover you externally, his kisses go straight through your physical vessel, raining over your soul like shooting stars, manifesting as hidden gemstones, ready to be discovered in moments when you are losing hope.

✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹✧˖°🌹°˖✧

✧˖ If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like:

Truly Idiotic. Midpoint. (L.YB) Overwhelmingly Good (H.HJ) Overwhelmingly Close (H.HJ) Fuzzy Robe (Y.JG)

[kpop---scenarios]

Misery Loves Company (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Warning: Language etc

Genre: Coworkers/Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Okay! I'm happier with this version of the first chapter!

Everything Taglist: @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx

@wife2straykids @silly250 @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @1810cl

@anskiiz @ayyonoona

“Are you ready for the conference?” Your friend and co-worker, Hyunjin grins. “I can't wait for it.”

“Oh yeah, a week of meetings and workshops sounds absolutely delightful.” You chuckle.

“Believe me, that's not all that happens.” He grins, sending you a wink as he nudges you with his elbow.

You look around the office, catching the eye of the man you despised the most, Lee Know. Or as everyone else in the office called him, Minho. He was an arrogant, self centered, short tempered, selfish and rude man. And for some reason, well not some, a reason well known, he was extremely popular among your co-workers. He was undoubtedly extremely attractive, with a sense of humor that everyone loved, except you. However, that didn't change his shitty attitude and even shittier work ethic, and yet he had the audacity to talk shit about you.

You had walked into the break room one day, when you had only been working there for a few weeks, and there sat Minho with his back to you while he spoke to a few other workers.

“She's just… well, she's fucking horrible at her job.” He chuckles. “I mean, sure she's nice, maybe? I dunno, I haven't really talked to her, but she sucks. She must have been hired for her tits and ass.” He says, laughing. The other workers try to hide their faces as he continues on. But surely he wasn't talking about you? You were hired around the same time as another girl, and this made your stomach sink. You weren't great yet but you were trying, and you hadn't had like a huge fuck-up. Only a few minor ones.

You tried your best to ignore it, since there was a chance he wasn't talking about you and you wouldn't be upset until it was confirmed. “Y/N needs to go. I don't know how she's still even here.” He sighs, glancing over to his left. “Rose, what are you doing this weekend?” He smiles, looking at the other newer girl.

“She's right behind you, man. Why do you have to be such a dick?” One of the men, Hyunjin tells him, getting up from his chair to come up to you.

“Don't listen to him. He barely has one brain cell that's even functioning.” Hyunjin chuckles, guiding you out of the break room. ever since then, you and Hyunjin had become very good friends, while that made you want nothing to do with Minho, and you avoided him for months as best as you could. Unfortunately for you, you were still close enough to hear about his weekends, which led you to finding out that he was the biggest playboy you had ever met. Monday mornings, he was always talking about his latest conquests from the weekend, making sure it was loud enough for you and others to hear, rarely got his own work done on time, and yet, somehow was still praised by management.

You were honestly shocked he hadn't been fired yet. If you were to do some of the exact same things he did, you'd be written up, but he was a god among you all, and that fueled your hatred for him even more.

“Hey, you wanna ride to the airport together?” Hyunjin asks, as you're both packing up for the day. You were all booked on the same flights, tomorrow morning at 9:00am but you weren't going to let Hyunjin go that far out of his way for you.

“That's sweet, but no thanks. It's too far, I'm just going to drive myself, my dad is going to pick up my car from the airport later tomorrow. I appreciate the offer though!” You smile.

“Well if you change your mind, let me know.” He smiles, leaving before you.

You finish grabbing your bag, turning off your computer and making sure you weren't forgetting anything. You make your way to the elevator, clicking the button as you wait for it to ding, you feel the presence of someone beside you. You glance over, seeing Minho standing beside you, impatiently tapping his briefcase.

“Did you even press the button?” He asks, pressing it again.

“What do you think? I'm not an idiot.” You snap.

“Woah.” He chuckles. “A little testy this evening, are we?”

“You ruin my mood with your presence.” You sigh.

“You hate me that much? What have I ever done to you, Y/N?” He asks.

“Oh yeah, I despise you.” You answer. The elevator opens, you push your way in front of Minho to get on first, pressing the close button in the hopes it would magically close right in his face.

“That's hurtful, Y/N.” He pouts. “I just wanna be friends.”

“I have enough friends.” You respond.

“What's one more?” He grins.

“Having you as a friend sounds like absolute hell.” You say.

“Good thing I don't actually want to have you as a friend. You're too uptight for my liking. Maybe if you loosened up a little.” He says. “You know what, probably not even then.”

The rest of the ride down is silent. You get off as soon as you can, speed walking towards the front doors so you can get away from him as fast as possible. That night when you got home you finished up your packing and went to bed early. You had to leave by 630am to get to the airport at a decent time before your flight, you were not going to miss it.

“No, no, no!” You whine, running as fast as you can towards your flight's gate. Your carryon suitcase barely hangs on behind you as you weave through the crowds of people standing around waiting. “Please… no.” You breathe as you reach the desk, slamming your boarding pass down on the top. Seconds later another boarding pass is slammed down next to yours but you choose to ignore it. You were here first and you desperately needed to get onto this flight.

“I'm…” You breathe, your chest heaving. “Here.” The lady smiles at you, opening her mouth to speak. “I'm so sorry.” She sighs. “You just missed it.”

“No! Please! I woke up late and was rushing to get…here! And then I got a flat tire on my way! I-I left my car on the side of the road… I had to hitch a ride the rest of the way!” You complain. “It hasn't even taken off!” You say, motioning to the plane that was now pulling away from the gate.

You let out a big sigh. “Are there any other flights going out later today or tomorrow?” You ask.

“Yeah I really need to be on that flight.” Someone beside you says. The voice was familiar. A little too familiar and you really fucking hoped it wasn't who you thought it was.

You look over and aggressively roll your eyes, seeing the man you worked with, that you absolutely despised.

“I'll be on any flight that he's not on.” You say.

“They’d leave you before they left me, right gorgeous?” He chuckles, sending the desk agent a wink.

“Unfortunately, you're both out of luck.” The lady says, giving you both a sympathetic look. “The next flight there isn't until next week.” She tells you.

“But I need to be there ASAP for a conference. It starts in 3 days!” you complain.

“So do I.” Minho huffs.

“No one cares about what you need to do, Minho!” You snap.

“You can always rent a car.” She suggests. You hang your head down. The last thing you wanted to do was drive for 3 days to get there but it seemed like at this point it was your only choice. When you look back up, Minho is already gone. You make your way to the car rental desk, getting in line behind Minho. A few minutes later the man at the desk walks away with his keys in his hand, letting Minho head up to the desk.

“Just to let you know.” The girl behind the desk starts. “We only have one car available.” She says, forcing a smile.

“I'll take it.” Minho yells, just before you. He turns around, giving you a grin, one that made you want to punch him in the face. “What are you gonna do, Y/N?” He asks, protruding his lip for a fake pout.

“You have nothing left?” You ask the girl, holding your hands together to beg her. You'd drop to your knees if you had too.

“Not until next week.” She says. Minho continues to rent the car, signing documents, giving his license, while you stood behind him, internally fighting with yourself. You could just miss the conference right?

You pull out your phone to call your boss, who answers on the second ring.

“Y/N. Are you on your way?” He asks.

“Well sir…” you say, clearing your throat. “I missed the flight. And unfortunately Minho got the last car rental.” You explain. “So I was wondering…” you begin before he cuts you off.

“That's perfect. Just go with Minho then. What's the problem?” He asks.

“Nothing sir. Just wanted to let you know what the plan was.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Excellent. See you in a few days.” He says, hanging up the phone.

Minho grabs his keys walking past you, without a care in the world. You grab his arm, which to your surprise is a lot more muscular than you had expected.

“Can I help you?” He asks, pulling his arm away from you.

“Can I….” You trail off into a mumble. Minho squints his eyes at you. “Huh?”

“Can I… get a….” You trail off into a mumble again.

“I'm sorry, what? Y/N, speak up. I can't help you if you don't talk to me.” He says, leaning his ear closer. “I'm not getting the question?”

“Can I get a ride with you?” You huff, rolling your eyes.

“See, that wasn't so hard was it?” He smiles.

“So?” You sigh. “Can I?”

“No.” He says, walking towards the parking lot.

“Come on! You talk shit about me! it's the least you can do.” You snap.

“Oh fuck. It was one time.” He says.

“That I know of.” You tell him.

“Just skip the conference.” He says, continuing to walk away.

“I would if I could. Mr. Johnson said to ride with you.” You tell him.

Minho doesn't respond, instead pulls his ringing phone from in his pocket, sighing loudly as he looks at the caller ID. “Hello?” He answers. “Yes sir. Of course sir. See you then, sir.” He finishes hanging up the phone.

He starts walking away, you stay still. Taking in deep breaths. You'd get this figured out. It would be fine. Everything always ends up being fine, right? As you turn to walk in a different direction, Minho turns his head to look at you. “Well let's fucking go, we don't have time to waste.” He snaps, continuing to walk. You smile to yourself as you follow him, but that smile quickly fades when you remember how long you're going to be stuck with him in the car. At least you'll get a break when you get your own hotel rooms.

“Rules for the car.” Minho starts, pulling out of the airport parking lot. “You're not allowed to talk. You're not allowed to touch the radio, you're not allowed to do anything. Okay? It's gonna be a long drive and I'm already annoyed.” He says.

You don't reply, instead just stare out the window, leaning your head back onto the head rest.

“Okay?” He says again, glancing at you.

“What?” You scoff. “You said I'm not allowed to talk.”

“Fucking take me now.” He groans, looking up at the sky.

The first few hours were fine. The hum of the radio filled the car and you slept off and on, but right now you needed to use the bathroom so fucking bad. You didn't want to break the rules but there was a gas station coming up, and if you didn't go you were going to burst.

“I need to pee!” You yell out, pointing to the station. Minho sighs as he pulls off onto the exit, pulling up to the pump. You exit the car as fast as your legs would take you, b-lining straight for the women's room.

A few minutes later, you emerge feeling like a brand new woman. You glance outside, expecting to see Minho waiting in the car but he's no longer parked by the pumps. Your head whips from left to right, and you can't see him. Your purse, your phone, everything you had was in that car and now panic was starting to set in.

Your chest starts heaving as you could barely catch your breath. You were turning in a circle, until you heard laughing. You look over, seeing Minho walking over.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“I thought you left me.” You admit.

“I parked on the side because someone else needed the pump.” He says. “I've been waiting for you. Jesus christ, let's go.” He finishes, walking back the way he came.

Relief sets in as you follow him to the car. Yeah, you probably should have checked around the whole building, but it also would not have been completely out of character for Minho to just abandon you in some town. The two of you get back into the car, setting off once again. If you wanted to make it on time, you were going to have to drive for another 8 hours before stopping. Honestly, it couldn't get any worse. The silent car ride was killing you. You enjoyed talking to people, and even though the only person you had to talk to was Minho, you would have rather had that than not talking at all. But every time you tried to talk to him, he immediately shut you down, whether or not he verbally told you to shut up, or putting his finger to his lips, or putting up his hand to tell you to stop. After the third time, you just decide to give up.

Eight hours later, Minho pulls into the parking lot of a hotel, parking the car. You both get out, excited to stretch and crawl into your own beds and sleep before another long drive tomorrow. You both walk up to the front desk, each speaking with a different clerk.

“One room, one bed, please.” You smile at the man.

Minho points to you. “What she said.” He murmurs, letting out a yawn.

“I'm sorry.” The man smiles. “Unfortunately, we only have one room available for the night.”

“Whatever.” Minho sighs. “One room, two beds then.”

“No sir.” The man laughs. “My apologies for being unclear.” He smiles.

“We only have one room with one bed.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Cracking of a Cold Heart

Summary: "Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he is only sad." – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Pairings: Dean x Reader (Reader's 1st person POV)

Warnings: None. Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,804

A/N: So, while watching an episode of Criminal Minds the other day, the above quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was at the opening of the episode and it just struck me as very Dean. 😢 So, I had to write him something. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

“You're still awake?”

I asked the obvious question as I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table, slowly swirling amber liquid inside a crystal glass.

He nodded. “Yep. You too.” 

“Yeah, I just came to get some water; it's so dry in this bunker, don't you think?”

Dean just grunted. 

“Maybe we could add some humidifiers, or something.” I said awkwardly.

A shrug was my only answer.

Dean's rough, coldness still made me nervous around him sometimes, especially when he was in an overly grumpy or frosty mood like this. Even though we'd been working together for a year and roommates for at least half that time, I always felt like I just annoyed the hell out of him.

I decided I should just go and leave him alone with his whiskey. I poured my glass of water quickly and nodded towards him as I left.

“K, goodnight.”

“Yeah, night.”

I went back to my bedroom, just down the hall from Dean's, and sighed as I walked through the door. I really wanted things to be different. I wanted to make him like me.

Actually, what I really wanted was to make him love me.

But I'd settle for getting more than grunts and one word answers from him most of the time. 

He’d always been gruff with me, never seemed to want me around. It was always Sam that let me know about hunts and invited me along. And every time I joined them, Sam had to fight his brother to let me leave the car when they got out to fight the bad guys.

He clearly thought I was a shitty hunter too. 

So, he'd surprised me with how quickly he'd agreed to let me stay at the bunker when I told the boys about a demon I was dealing with that seemed particularly fixated on me. Sam convinced me it was safest there and Dean had agreed, though he was scowling the whole time. I couldn't help but think he only let me stay cause he didn't want me to die.

Not wanting me to die wasn't exactly friendship, but I supposed it was better than not caring one way or the other. So, I'd agreed to move in. The demon had been taken care of quickly with the boys help, but I stayed on.

I liked it there, and despite Dean's usual attitude towards me, I was happy in the bunker. Sam and Dean were funny and their dark, sarcastic humor, especially Dean's, often made me laugh in situations that would otherwise demand only horror.

It was also the safest I'd ever felt. 

Because no matter how he felt about me, I knew beyond a doubt that Dean would always have my back and look out for me. That was just the kinda guy he was.

If only I could actually make him want me around.

An idea dawned on me as I climbed back into bed. Maybe that was why Dean wasn't warming up to me. Maybe he felt like I was overstaying my welcome there. It made sense; they'd invited me to stay while I was in danger, and then I just never left.

I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of it earlier. I would talk to the boys in the morning, I decided, and then fell into a restless sleep, thinking about where I'd end up when I left.

The next morning I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table in the exact same spot as the night before, his whiskey replaced with a cup of coffee. 

“Morning.” I said shyly.

“Mmm.” Dean said around his cup as he took a sip. 

I started to get things together to make my breakfast, looking over my shoulder. “I'm making oatmeal, did you want some?”

Dean shook his head. “N’ah. M’good.” He mumbled in his deep, craggy voice, staring at the table. 

“Okay.” I said, sighing at his usual taciturn answer.

I put the water on to boil, salting it slightly, and then turned back to him just as he stood up and walked towards me. He drained his cup along the way and then reached past me to put it in the sink.

I made the mistake of taking a deep breath as he leaned close and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. God, why did he always have to smell so good? Why did he have to radiate warmth from his big, broad, flannel-covered chest, so that I desperately wanted to cuddle into him. 

Completely unaffected, Dean turned to leave, but I put my hand out, touching his arm to stop him from going. I could feel an almost imperceptible flinch from him and I pulled my hand back, embarrassed that he was literally recoiling from my touch.

“Sorry.” I said as my cheeks got pink. “I was wanting to talk to you and Sam. Do you know when-” 

Just then we could hear the screech of the bunker door as Sam returned from his morning run.

“Perfect timing.” I said with an awkward chuckle.

I left the kitchen, glad that Dean followed so I could talk to them both at once. We met Sam at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled out his ear bud, still breathing deeply. 

“Hey.” He said with a small smile. He looked back and forth between me and Dean. “What's up?”

“Oh nothing, really.” I said, waving away the conversation's importance. “I just wanted to talk to you guys. I've…well, I was thinking about it and I realized, I mean now that there's no demon tracking me, no one threatening me, I should probably move out. You know?”

Sam scowled and shook his head. “We're hunters, we're always under threat. This is still the safest place for you. Why would you leave?”

I shrugged. “Well, I mean, I've been here a long time.” Sam scoffed at that, but I continued. “And I don't wanna…you know. I just think I should get out of your hair.”

“Don't be stupid. You're not in our hair. You should stay. Right, Dean?” He asked his older brother.

I looked back at Dean and he didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at the ground. Then he shrugged and looked up. His face was the same cold, indifferent mask I'd seen him wear so many times before. 

“If she wants to go, can't stop her.”

I smiled thinly, a small pinch of hurt starting in my chest. 

“Yep,” I said in a cheerful tone. “Can't stop me.”

Sam started to speak, but I waved him away. “No. Seriously, I should get my own place. But I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here for so long.”

I stood on tiptoe to give Sam a kiss on the cheek and then tossed Dean a smile which was all I could manage before taking off, heading back to my bedroom so I could start looking for a new place to live.

About an hour later, as I was on my computer looking at apartments, there was a light knock on my door.

“Come in!” I called, expecting Sam's tall frame to walk through. Instead the door swung open and Dean was there. 

I was shocked and I set my laptop down beside me on the bed, sitting up straight. Not once in the six months I'd lived there, had Dean knocked on my door; nor had he ever sought me out for anything.

“Hi.” I said lamely.

He nodded at me as he walked slowly into the room. 

We were quiet for a moment before I cleared my throat. “Do you need something?”

Dean pushed out his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“I, uh…I wanted to…Sam said that he thought you were…” He rolled up onto the balls of his feet a couple of times as he paused.

I raised a quizzical eyebrow and Dean scowled, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms over his chest. The flannel pulled tight across his shoulders and biceps, thoroughly distracting me. 

But then he spoke roughly and brought my attention back to him.

“Sammy thinks you're just leaving cause of me, so I need you to tell him it's not true.”

I wasn't surprised that Sam had read me so well, he wasn't easily fooled and I often thought he might know about my unrequited feelings for Dean. 

But I shook my head. “No, of course not. It's not you. It's just time.”

Dean nodded and looked away. “K well, tell my dipshit little brother that will you, so he gets off my back?”

He sounded angry and for some reason his anger annoyed me. I was moving out, leaving, just so that he’d be happy, and he still wasn’t. 

“Sure.” I attempted a teasing tone, but it didn’t really work. “I'll get right on it. Right after I find a new place to live.”

Dean scowled at me again, but this time I scowled back. 

Something seemed to occur to Dean and though his voice was rough, he sounded slightly shocked when he spoke. “You are leaving because of me. Why?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck like that. “Oh, I don't know Dean. I can't imagine why I'd think you don't want me around when you're always so warm and welcoming. Always so eager to chat and hangout. I must just be crazy!”

Dean's frown etched deeper on his brow. “So you're leaving cause I'm not acting like your bestie? I'm not friendly enough for you?”

“I’m leaving because you hate me and obviously don’t want me around!” I shouted.

Silence rang out and my embarrassment filled it. I stood up from my bed and brushed past him, calling back to him as I left.

“Look, don't worry about it. I'll tell Sam it's not your fault so he leaves you alone.”

I left quickly, but I wasn't sure where to go. I couldn't stay in my bedroom with Dean there, but I didn't want to run into Sam either. So I ended up hiding in the gym, hoping neither of them would find me there.

But that plan didn't work very well, since minutes later Dean strode through the door. I growled slightly in frustration. All I wanted was to avoid further confrontation about this.

My voice was quiet, trying to discourage any more conversation. “Look, let's just leave it alone, okay? It's fine.”

“No it's not.” Dean responded.

I let out a little huff. “I’ll be gone in a few days, and everything can just go back to normal for you guys.”

Dean stared at me. “No it won’t. I don't want you to go.”

I scoffed and stood up from the bench. “Dean, enough. I told you it's fine. I'll make sure Sam doesn't blame you.”

I walked towards the door, aware I was going to have to get past him to leave. I gave him a wide berth but he sidestepped to intercept me. 

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated quietly.

“Yeah, okay.” I said sarcastically. “If you say-” 

In a blink Dean grabbed hold of my upper arms and yanked me forward so that I stumbled into him, gasping. His mouth crashed down on mine and I squealed in surprise.

He kissed me hard and quick, stroking up into the roof of my mouth with his wide tongue and then ripping himself away from me.

He was breathing hard as he stared down at me and spoke in a rough whisper. 

“I don't want you to go.”

I just blinked at him, confusion overwhelming me. “What…what are you…what?”

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated for the fourth time. “But you should go. You should run long and far and never look back.” His voice sounded desperate.

I was so confused. “What are you talking about?”

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me again slowly, sweetly. I started to comprehend what was actually going on and I felt like my mind was going to explode. He left me reeling, my whole world turning upside down in disbelief as he pulled away from my lips to bury his face in my neck and kiss his words into my skin. 

“God, Sweetheart, all I dream about is you; you're all I see when I close my eyes. But you can't stay; you can't love me back.”

I listened to his words as I dropped my head back so he had better access to all the sensitive spots on my neck.

“…you can't love me back…”

My voice was breathless and bemused as I spoke. “But you don’t love me…you can't love me…you don't even like me.”

Dean pulled back to look me in the eye and I was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly glassy. I shook my head again, though I didn't know why I was trying so hard to deny his words when they were what I'd wanted to hear for so long. 

But I continued. “No, it’s not possible.” I said. “You don't like me. You're always angry at me, cold and distant. You think I'm a shitty hunter; I'm a burden and liability to have with you on cases.” 

I was shaking my head. “You leave me in the car!”

Dean closed his eyes and spoke quietly. “I leave you in the car because when you're with us I'm completely distracted trying to make sure nothing happens to you; I can't  do my job properly. And I'm cold and distant with you because…”

He opened his eyes slowly. “Because I know I can't have you.”

For the first time since I'd known him, I could easily read the emotion swirling in his deep, forest green eyes. And what I saw was just immense sadness.

He shook his head. “I can't have you.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t have me’? Says who?” I asked croakily, my throat constricted.

His jaw clenched and he looked away from me, over my shoulder. “Every single person that's been ripped out of my life since I was four years old. And the list is long, so very long. They're all telling me over and over that loving you is a selfish, impossible daydream. They're screaming at me from the grave, reminding me that trying to hold on to you is going to get you killed.” 

He was staring past me as though he could actually see the ghosts that haunted him, could hear their words of warning.

“You know,” I said with a sniffle as my eyes and nose started watering, “I think that might be the most you've ever said to me at one time.”

Dean let out a puff of air that wasn't quite a laugh, and he shook his head again. “I don't want you to go, but you should go.”

I swallowed several times, the tears still flowing as I realized that all of this was really happening. 

He loved me. Truly. 

Finally I dashed away my tears and sniffled again. “Not a chance, Dean Winchester. You say you love me? Well, great, cause I love you too.” 

He pulled in a stuttered breath and I could see the fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again and I took the chance to steal a kiss, pressing close to him and winding my arms around his neck. 

He let out what I hoped was a groan of capitulation and wrapped his arms around my ribs, squeezing me to him tightly and deepening the kiss. His tongue swept through my mouth, exploring every inch, pulling soft moans from the back of my throat as I raked my nails through his hair and he shuddered against me.

After kissing me senseless for several minutes, he broke it off so we could both suck air into our starving lungs. He rested his forehead against mine and I could still hear the sadness in his voice and it made my heart ache. 

“If you stay here with me, you can’t ever leave. Okay? Promise me if you stay, if we love each other out loud, promise me it'll be okay. That I won’t have to live without you, that you’ll always be safe.”

He touched my lips briefly with his, and then spoke against them, whispering. “I couldn’t take it. So promise. Even if it's a lie. Promise me anyway.”

“I promise.” I told him with my whole heart, and sealed it with a kiss.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 * @alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly * @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya * @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

* @whimsyfinny * Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear * Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 * @waywardcheshire @libby99hb * Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 * @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester * @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous

[chosugarplum]

run your mouth

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

warnings: nothing, just kisses at the end and a weird question from reader the whole time.

ps: my first language isnt english so this must have severe grammatical errors

"If I..."

At the same moment that he perceived your voice entering the room, his head immediately turned around to gave you a warning look, telling you to be very cautelous about what are you about to say. For the past months, Sakusa got acquainted with your weird sense of humor.

"Listen up" you proclaimed before he starts to say anything else "If I hypothetically ask to lick your moles, you would let me do it?"

"What? Which one?" his voice sound slightly disguist, but the way his eyes softner when he turn to look at you, its shows that, if you asked, he happily gonna say yes.

When you met Sakusa, he was almost speechless and quite distant, always looking up on ways to avoid contact. Not only with you, you notice someday that he actually doesn't approach others people in general.

His team were the only ones who had permission to get close to him, and even his teammates didn't go far away, they always keep some limits to not transgress his boundaries.

The first moment in which both of you had to swap a few words were in a bar. One of your friends was "getting close" of Miya Atsumu, and have asked you to go with her so it's wasn't gonna be so stranger to her to meet some of his teammate.

You accepted and somehow - nobody know how - you ended up being placed next to Sakusa. Most of the time was very peaceful and quiet, but when all of the people in the table decide to become ghosts, you two have to start some convo.

The talk was very polite, just some questions about your profissional life - "what you do?", "how do you knew that was this you wanted to work with?"

But it has starded a thing between you and Sakusa. From that moment above, you accepted every offering that you friends does, in hope that he was in there, and Sakusa had done the same thing with Atsumu's offerings.

Each appointment brought you a little closer of him, until the moment that he asked for you number. since that moment your relationship climb some steps up to this exact moment.

"So you would let me?" you ask, challenging him to answer. "Hum? Kiyomi. Would you let me" you tighten your eyes, approaching him in the bathroom.

Your face is above his shoulder,with your cheeck scrunched on his skin, Sakusa can feel the heat that comes from your body. He looked at you in the mirror, a small lift in his lips.

"If you ask properly" he gazes at you, mesmerized with your face, nothing could change his mind about you being the prettiest person he ever seen.

You stare him in dare, removing your face from his shoulder and immediatily wraping your arms around his hips, you start to make a pout.

"So Please, please, please, let me get what I want~" you sing and Sakusa raises an eyebrow.

"You have to do better than that, sweetheart."

Your pout increases and you get an idea. A great idea.

Your fingers reach for his face and pull him closer.

Slamming your lips against his, you put your arms around his neck while you feel he placement his hands on your waist, opening your mouth when you recognize his tongue asking for access, your tongues slide against each other and you hear a small whimper from Sakusa. Smiling, you stop the kiss and murmurs slowly as you plants little seals on his lips.

"Can I" seal "please" seal "lick" seal "yours" seal "moles"

You separate your body from his and Sakusa has the glimpse of your whole figure, your eyes glowing in his direction, how could he say no?

"Yes, anytime you desire" he look at you smiling, and you know that this man loves you more than anything else.

chosugarplum, 06/18/2024.

[meowzfordayz]

NSFW Alphabet — Shinazugawa Sanemi

Author’s Note: technically didn’t finish this, but enjoy nonetheless. 😅 As w/ all headcanons, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Shinazugawa Sanemi

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~1,100

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, spit

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Sanemi is sooo stern about aftercare, to the extent that sometimes aftercare feels not so caring. 😆 #soft dom vibes It doesn’t matter how exhausted you are; he’s coaxing you into a bath (or shower 🚿 ), watching you eat a full meal (full meal = at least one glass of water and a lil snick snack 😋), and making you brush your teeth. He’ll absolutely carry you from one location to the next, tenderly wash and pat dry your body, spoon feed you if you pout hard enough, and massage you to sleep 😴, but he’s not letting you pass out smelling of sex. 😒 “Dehydration is serious, my love, and I know you came at least once.” <— You definitely came more than once. 😌

Dirty Talk?

Sanemi’s generally quiet during sex—he’d rather listen to your pretty sounds than himself talking—but sometimes the most lewd things slip out from his mind to your ears. “Fuck yes baby, you like spreading your asscheeks while I fuck you, hm? Makes you feel extra exposed? Greedy? Bet you can feel how wet you are, what a mess you’re making.” He actually prefers when you talk to him, but not necessarily about sex. “What do we need to buy at the grocery store?” he asks nonchalantly, fixated on the sight of his cock inching its way into your pussy, slipping out and then farther in, becoming shinier and stickier with slick as his thrusts move deeper into your heat. “Seri-ously?” you huff, fingernails digging into his arms, unable to catch his gaze as he continues staring at his cock, “We n-need, we need eggs, milk, b-bread-” “I’m sure you’d like to be bread,” Sanemi interjects, voice tight with restraint, “Shit you’re so fucking gorgeous.” “You did not just-” “Shh darling, surely we need more than eggs, milk, and bread?”

Goofy? their sense of humor

Sanemi doesn’t like to be silly during sex, but it tends to just kinda happen anyway. 😅 Pinning you against the wall, one warm hand wrapped loosely around your neck, a muscular thigh nudging its way between your trembling legs? “Uh, Nemi,” you squeak, breath hitching as he nips at your collarbone, “I think I hit my tailbone-” “Seriously?” he grumbles into your skin, other arm slinking around your back to provide extra padding between your back and the wall. “Yes seriously,” you whine, eyes squeezing shut as he licks a hot path from the hollow of your throat up to the tip of your chin. “Shaddup,” he mutters, nose scrunching, “Gonna make me laugh.” “So my pain is funny to you?!” Groaning, he cracks a smile, exasperation expression meeting your petulant one as he shakes his head, “‘Course not, but I thought you liked when I shoved you into walls ‘nd stuff.” “Well yeah, but not when it hurts!” “Relax darling,” he purrs, sucking lightly on your cheek, grinning when you pout, “I’ve got you.” 😒😌😏

Hair? pubes maintenance

Unsurprisingly tidy. Sanemi has a weekly shave + trim schedule (for both his face and pubes). He’ll occasionally skip a week if you insist (sometimes a lil scruff is endearing ☺️), but he feels better knowing things are neat and maintained (for you and himself). Plus, since his hair’s so light, you might think there’s not a lot going on, but it actually grows quite fast 😅, and Sanemi absolutely notices when he starts shedding everywhere (even if you don’t).

No? turn offs

Sanemi would be hard pressed to be physically rough with you, but he’d also be hard pressed to disappoint you. He is capable and willing to explore more dangerous kinks—he doesn’t half ass anything—but best believe you’ll be negotiating and scripting scenes for days before he’s actually comfortable playing. “You really want me to spit on you?” he asks again, voice round with obvious concern, “If you don’t like it, then I can’t exactly take it back.” Your cheeks warm at his tone, eyes gentle as you meet his hesitant gaze, “We can always keep a cloth on standby. If I don’t like it, then you can simply wipe it off.” “That doesn’t address the potential psychological damage.” “Nemi, for me this is like… trying a new vegetable. There’s risk, sure. I might forever remember how much I hate zucchini, and how much it sucked to find that out. But I tried, and that’s what matters most to me.” “Your safety matters most to me,” he retorts, reaching across the dining table for your hand. Your fingers intertwine. You squeeze reassuringly. He cracks a faint smile, sighing lowly as he finally acquiesces, “Fine.” Grinning brightly, you lean in, cleavage visible as your breasts press into the tabletop, whispering conspiratorially, “Besides, I thought you liked claiming me as your slut? This is just another way to do so.” Eyes widening, Sanemi coughs loudly, face quickly reddening, unable to resist glancing at your tits as he mutters roughly, “I mean, yeah. I do. Of course I do.”

Toys?

Sanemi loves the idea of toys, but they’re So fucking expensive, the hell?!, so you don’t (co)own too many. That being said, he’s game to utilize whatever toys you had prior to meeting him. 😎 Rest assured he’ll pull out the vibrator (always fully charged 😉) when his hands get tired (this man became ambidextrous for the sole purpose of being able to personally pleasure you for double the amount of time 🤯), his pace barely faltering as he toggles through the settings to find your favorite, thick cock twitching in your cunt when a warm gush of slick makes his movements even smoother. “Hm, is my cock not enough for you?” he murmurs teasingly, holding the vibrator steady and unforgiving against the hood of your clit, fucking the breath from your lungs with a satisfied smirk. You manage a loud whine in response, legs trembling while your back arches, hips greedily chasing the overwhelming sensation of your looming orgasm. “So beautiful,” Sanemi rasps, drinking in the sight of your scrunched face, your little gasps accompanying each of his punctuated thrusts, “So. Fucking. Gorgeous.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 4: Shadows in the Moonlight - A Fateful Meeting at the Ball

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„I won’t wear this. End of the discussion.”

“Are you out of your mind, sister? Prince Satoru sent this dress himself and ordered you to wear it!”

“I couldn’t care less about what Prince Satoru tells me to do.”

“Lady (y/n), please come to your senses. This is a beautiful gown and apart from that, it matches your skin tone and eyes perfectly. I am certain he didn’t choose this dress himself. Do the maid who was responsible for it a favour and wear it to the ball.”

Just to hear her voice sends shivers down your spine and calms down your pounding heart. Well, what did you expect when you found yourself reincarnated into a fantasy world with Jujutsu Kaisen characters playing the royal main roles? Definitely not Shoko Ieiri being your first maid, that is for sure.

“Fine”, you grumble.

“But I’ll only do it because of Shoko. Now get out of here, brother.”

Naoya sends a row of sickening glares your way before storming off and finally leaving you some room to breathe. This slowly but surely begins to feel like a never-ending nightmare. All you did was asking Gojo for an invitation to the ball along with a bouquet of flowers. But this?

You take out the jaw-dropping gorgeous gown that is covered in glitter, allow your hands to feel the softness of the fabric. There is no doubt in the fact that this was way more expensive than anything you have ever worn, so finely crafted that you didn’t even want to touch it when you first opened the box. But Shoko is right.

“How likely is it that the maid responsibly for choosing this dress will lose her head if I don’t wear it to the ball, Shoko?”

She eyes you and the dress up and down in silence while pouting her lips. To be honest, when you first saw her in that black and white maids dress, you almost fell out of the window. How is it even possible that she’s considered your maid in this world? Luckily for you, she at least kept her sense of humor.

“Very likely. To be exact, she might lose her head the same evening if Prince Satoru lives up to his reputation.”

“What a great way to describe my future fiancé. Would you help me put it on, then?”, you mutter.

Oh, how much you hate the thought of doing this man a favour, of putting something onto your body he has seen before. He doesn’t deserve to even look your way for how he talked to you, for how he treated you. Your impression from him in the manga definitely wasn’t wrong:

This man is nothing but a womanizer and collector of hearts.

“Didn’t you like him at least a little bit, Lady (y/n)? From what I have heard so far, it is said that he is a true gentleman and treats women with all due respect. Just not everyone else”, Shoko comments while tying the laces of your bodice.

You can’t help but huff in sheer anger and frustration. Gojo Satoru? A true gentleman? Is she really talking about the man who endangered you, who didn’t agree on marrying you? Just after you put him down in front of your whole family and threatened him with revealing his biggest secret…

Well, nobody’s perfect. But especially he isn’t.

“Let me tell you something, Shoko. This man is nothing but a philanderer, a pompous prince who thinks he owns the world.”

“But this pompous prince will be called your fiancé after tonight”, she reminds you violently.

You huff to yourself while balling your hands into tight fists and looking at yourself in the mirror. That new sensation of lavender eyes, the stinging fact that you are responsible for marrying that man you never really liked that much. But what other choice do you have? Even though you just came into this world, you aren’t dumb. Just one look into Naobito’s and Naoya’s cold eyes is enough to know they aren’t joking around. If Gojo doesn’t propose to you tonight, you will lose your life all over again. Running away? What a ridiculous thought. They’d find you where ever you go, hunt you down like the prey you are. Jujutsu Kaisen taught you that life isn’t that simple, that you cannot get away like that.

That new-gained life, the only one you might have left…

You straighten your shoulders and put a smile onto your lips so forced that your cheeks start aching. If calling yourself Prince Satoru’s fiancée is the price you have to pay for a second life, you will take it. But you’ll definitely won’t play his perfect little fiancée until the end of time. No, despite all the horrible things that could happen, despite the fact that you can consider yourself lucky for an opportunity like that, you still want to live the life you always imagined.

You will find a way out. But tonight, you have to play along.

-at the ball-

“If you don’t behave yourself-“

“Can you shut your mouth just once? It’s not like I’m a kid and didn’t listen to your nonsense the whole ride to the palace”, you interrupt your brother with a yawn.

“I think you don’t get it, sister.”

Naoya grabs your wrist so tightly that your bones feel like bursting any given minute, his cold glare piercing through you like a knife.

“If you mess this up, you will lose your head. And even though I’d love to witness that, we can use you as the wife of the prince better.”

His eyes tell you that he definitely isn’t lying, that every cruel word coming from his mouth is nothing but the truth. You swallow hard, yanking away your arm in order to escape his grasp. Fuck, this is absolutely serious. If you mess this up, if that jerk changes his opinion-

“Lady (y/n), what a pleasant surprise to see you made it on time.”

Oh. You turn around in a mix of relief and panic. It’s him.

“Sir Suguru”, you breathe out.

As fast as you’re able to walk in that pompous dress and those heels, you storm away from your brother in order to greet your new-found saviour.

“Where do you think you’re going, sister?”, Naoya hisses through gritted teeth.

“He’s a good friend of Prince Satoru, don’t you think it’s my responsibility to greet him? Now get away from me”, you bark back at him.

“What a pain in the ass”, you mumble to yourself, cheeks burning in nothing but sheer anger.

Now that you think of it, getting out of that toxic household is definitely more important than keeping your distance to Gojo. You need this evening to be perfect. Everything needs to go according to plan.

“I see you arrived with your brother”, Geto comments with an oh so charismatic smile.

“Oh, you noticed. I tried to leave him in the basement where he belongs, but he keeps finding his way back”, you blurt out before thinking twice.

Fuck.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror.

Just a few seconds ago, you reminded yourself to act normally, to do everything in order to make this plan work. And now…you’re insulting your family in front of Gojo’s best friend.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that-“

“It’s not a secret to anyone that Sir Naoya is a truly special contemporary. What surprises me though is how a Lady like you was able to develop in such an environment.”

“Please don’t tell Prince Satoru.”

The begging tone in your voice catches Geto off guard. You, who wasn’t even afraid of a Prince while rejecting him. What is it that you fear so badly?

“I’m a man of words. Of course, this will stay with us if you wish so, Lady (y/n). Now, let’s go inside, shall we? I know for certain Prince Satoru is already awaiting you.”

“Don’t make me blush, Prince Satoru-“

“Prince Satoru, there is something important I haven’t told you yet! What do you think about talking in private for a minute?”

“Now now, Ladies. I am not allowed to leave the ball I am hosting only to have a little talk. And apart from that, a noble man like me can’t meet a gorgeous Lady without a chaperone by her side. Your reputation might get ruined and I cannot stand the sheer thought of that”, Satoru replies with his voice so sweet that you feel like throwing up.

Is this guy for real? You ball your hands into tight fists, eyes too focused on the way he stares that bunch of needy women up and down with his eyes so sparkly that they might take their clothes of any given time. Didn’t this guy tell you yesterday that he wants to marry you?

“May I say that you look absolutely lovely tonight, dearest Lady Mei?”

“You always know just what to say to make a lady blush. But I must say, you’re looking quite dashing yourself. Perhaps we should make it a habit to complement each other more often, Prince Satoru”, she purrs back at him.

Mei Mei, the so called “Lady” who shared her bed with her little brother and cares about nothing but herself as your competition? Suguru side-eyes you up and down while trying to position himself in front of the cheesy scene, but you have enough.

Nope, you can’t do this. There’s no way in hell you’ll talk or let alone dance with that womanizer. Is this the only choice you have in your life? Getting killed by your so-called family or spending the rest of your days standing next to a man who has his mind and probably his body on a new girl every week?

“Disgusting”, you hiss through gritted teeth, not even caring about the look Suguru gives you while speeding off.

What are you supposed to do? Running away and trying to hide your traces? Risking it all and rejecting Prince Gojo once again? All of those thoughts are nothing but bullshit.

Your family will find and kill you if you decide to run away. And Prince Gojo? Who know what that guy is capable of.

“Don’t mind my comment, but you don’t have to feel nervous. I am more than certain that Prince Satoru fell head over heels for you”, Suguru whispers into your ear, following you around with ease.

“Are you forced to tell that every woman he wants to have as his trophy?”, you bite back.

You definitely don’t have any nerve to think about Prince Satoru or the stinging fact that you’ve landed in that strange universe for another minute.

“Drinking. Drinking sounds good right now”, you mumble while storming towards a buffet filled with beverages and biscuits.

Cup after cup you cough down the sweet liqueur that leaves your head dizzy and mind forgetting all the shit you’ve been through for a brief second. You were alive, you died, you woke up again in this strange world and now you’re supposed to die again?  Dying or getting married to a womanizer, a man who’ll never give you the love you deserve.

“Lady (y/n), are you feeling unwell-“

“I need to get out of here. Please leave me alone for a second”, you mumble without even looking at Suguru.

You need a few minutes or rather hours for yourself. Without anyone around, without all the pressure crushing your shoulders. Your feet stumble around without a real aim, shoulders bumping into strangers over and over until your eyes finally spot an empty hallway opposite of you.

Fuck Prince Satoru and that whole new world you now live in. Right now, you need some time to get a hold on your life and all the stuff that happened those last 48 hours.

You dart forwards, almost sprint when the crowd gets sparser. You need to get away from that place, away from the stinging presence of your brother, your father and Gojo.

“I can’t marry him. But I can’t stay here either. I need to…AH!”

Sparks fly, you feel your head bump into something rock hard, your body falling straight to the cold ground. Out of instinct, you squint your eyes together and brace yourself for bumping straight onto the floor butt-first. Were you really dumb enough to run against a wall or a statue, maybe?

But you never land. Instead, you feel a pair of firm arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, slowly allowing your lids to flutter open.

Your heart stops.

Can it really be? No, that’s impossible. There’s no way in hell a guy like him would attend a ball like that-

“I think your lost, the ball is right behind you, young Lady”, he speaks out with low voice.

“Toji Fushiguro”, you mumble when your glossy eyes fixate on the scar that decorates the right side of his mouth way too familiar.

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