#i want to tag 'i dont even go here' but im not really sure how much longer i can tell myself that

[neonfretra]

does anyone want to discuss hrpf outside of shipping + written fic context . because i think about where what i do sits in relation to it all

for brevity i will be referring to the real person as the player and the fictionalized interpretation of the player as the character

to get things outta the way, i dont think theres very much you can say about real life people before you start crossin into real person fiction (rpf) territory LOL

transformative art is rpf. speculation is rpf. narratives is rpf. the second you start steppin away from a direct relay of the facts as is, we gettin in ficticious waters IMO. its really a neutral thing to me and my ethics begin and end at "dont show people who dont wanna see"

and its real funny to think about how i do art just because it feels like i set up way less barriers compared to people who DO write fic . i see all this talk about making sure you make your stuff login exclusive, about not sharin it to the people involved, disclaimers about how its in fact NOT a reflection of reality that your favorite athlete is mpregnant and YOU are are mfather.

and i just hit post and call it a day LOL

TO BE CLEAR there is definitely layers to it in the sense that i see similar amounts of caution with say ship art or certain degrees of raunch.

shipping in the rpf scene is funny to me in the sense of the tendency to treat shipping as THE exclusive rpf thing. like no i dont think my tomas tatar fanart is 1:1 on the reality front either. for example, nj devils hairline is not that far back and thags the only inaccuracy.

heres the kicker: mmy foot.

most of my doodles tend to evoke a degree of characterization or narrative. yeag maybe its a little less 30k slowburn and a little more fabian zetterlund shot putting a man but. that is fictional, that is a character

im not saying that rpf defines players more than the reality of them does but i do believe it does enforce certain views

in the spaces i hang around ive noticed the narrativization around certain characters being part fueled by the information that is filtered by reporters and part interpretations bounced back and forth by fandom . and when you have eyes on a story, its easy to pick out information solely as it agrees with you

maybe the most prominent narrative ive seen for the sharks has been macklin celebrini having a jock dad -> therefore he got daddy issues, joe thornton houses him -> therefore mentor and father figure joe thornton? where even though i havent seen any direct relay of information from any players (though ivent been looking LOL) a lot of the discussion around it revolves around this common understanding that it just is (the funnier part is arguably that will smith hockey has been doing more for this narrative for patrick marleau BUT NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.)

and its really interesting to note HOW fandom warps or weaves the story by going off common tropes or dynamics to make sense of the public facing parts we do see, which is what i think is magnified through the lens of fanworks but not (necessarily) CREATED by fanworks

which is where i feel my work is part of the. ecosystem??? life cycle??? and then we all return to the dirt and the worms eat us???

how much or how little we define the gap between player and character changes from person to person. i simply do not have that goin on here. devin cooley eats joey daccords hair take it or leave it. annnnd main tag that

other times i feel we wear the divide thin are when there is headcanon that uses facts about the player (ie a lot of ship talk) or when the character becomes the kneejerk understanding of the player (ie liveblogs. very fun way to get a read of a communitys feelings on something because of how immediate the reactions on it are)

the point of this post isnt to shame or interrogate people about participating in rpf, im not looking for those sort of feelings, im fascinated by fandom culture as a twig off the old branch and i would love to hear other perspectives on the same topic (and different communities! i dont have much involvement in fic. which is. a massive hole in my perspective on this probably)

is it possible to cross the line from rpf to plain old original content LOL (the answer is intent i know but. walk with me here its fun to think about)

naturally theres a degree of "original character" to every depiction . you gotta make up some amount of it. theres no clear separation OF rpf and original content because everything is about borrowing. you make characters with inspiration from other things. its near enough universal for someone who deals with characters to have at some point lifted a character directly out of their original context and made them their own.

its not just their face or name or some other physical attribute that makes it rpf id also argue because i have seen people using attributes of real people as "claims" for origubal characters (like a "faceclaim" to say "this is how i imagine my character to look")

on top of that there is fluctuating interest on actually depicting the player, with approaches that i have heard of ranging from "character that shares the quantitative aspects of the player and thats IT" to "character that was made heavily referencing to things the player has said/done"

its interesting when certain players in rpf have a consistent character! which trends to be in teams with a more active rpf oriented fanbase (vs interest mainly in the real life hockey played), comparing the fandom of kraken to the golden knights on tumblr for instance. its also interesting to note that more popular teams just have more rpf centric leans. because there are more people to write rpf. i mean also we are on a fandom centric site and rpf bridges that gap from narrative/character fueled media and sportsball more LOL

(if you like sports from a purely sports oriented angle do you enjoy watching it? genuine question. because at what point is it "i could just be doing this myself" because ive hit that point with other things before LMAO)

i do call the difference being more "fandom" oriented but IDK if thats correctly using the word or just less syllables. and on top of that i cant exactly tell you if its popularity or stand out personality that holds more sway. though then again i guess those two traits arent separate from each other necessarily. or even that those are the only two factors to broad appeal (probably popularity with another player is up there. but im not trying to find a formula for most attractive to make rpf of)

to return to the kraken because that is the most rpf oriented team i follow, i do notice when players portrayed consistently. i can definitely tell you like. one or two character traits about players i do not follow the media of solely from liveblogs and art. complexity of the character varies by a lot, though i do think its interesting to consider the hows and whys.

a trait or interest being highlighted by media (i tend to see this in offical media coverage that gets spread by jokes) -> the character heavily revolves around this feature in jokes or casual reference, with heavy personal interpretation

media pushing a narrative by following a more cohesive timeline or story structure (i usually see this in fanworks. easier to identify the influence of IMO) -> fairly consistent character backstory or , at least in the broad strokes of it

just general agreements about tropes that are appealing with little basis on the player -> this is usually the more relationship focused character interpretation

there isnt usually just one factor (and this isnt an exhaustive list of factors) to one characters history. unless its a super new player on the radar.

its definitely a character that belongs to the fandom! as in the unique character to the unique community! its actually really funny how they evolve. you could probably fingerprint someones influences if you tried hard enough. with how new the kraken is (and the fact the fandom leans more towards being united as one body than any other team ive seen so far) it does get pretty easy to get it down to the post but. do your own treasure search. I wont deprive you!

(also its EMBARASSING... what if the people i mention SEE... im SHY...)

harder with an older fandom like the sharks there are so many dead and defunct sources or jokes so widely spread that it gets hard to locate the origin . because dead and defunct sources. though i think its growing a new ring around the fandom tree because of the newer players! so its a thought. to think about how different events influence the size and activity of a fanbase and to ask how different fans from different. eras? of a fanbase interact (or dont).

again i notice this in the sharks fandoms by comparing fans from the playoff contending sharks era (last playoff season was 18-19? start is a little murky but ill toss out that 2012 was the year tomas hertl was drafted because tomas hertl was an era of the sharks LOL a whole 12 years! i know people younger than his professional career and those people are catching up to me in height. humbling!) and fans from when the sharks were very much not playoff contending (quite an amount of the current active fans LOL). not sure if theres much to say without looking stupid. different jokes, notable players, friend groups, feelings towards other teams. all still feel very strongly about general manager mike grier scattering players like dandellion seeds to the wind.

(AGAIN. HOPING NO SHARKS FANS NOTICE THIS. IM SHY)

how many sharks fans havent seen logan couture on ice

again i am saying all this as someone who ACTIVELY participates in this BTW!!! does anyone notice that players i dont know definitely have a flatter "whatever is the funniest thing to say" angle . or that characters of players i know a few things about have like one punchline . or even that certain characters are consistent and not just bound by direct interpretations of one moment (which i do a lot of when im liveblogging) (dont get your hopes up for anything new here, the character usually is "pathetic and a little bit of a bastard")

i keep writing these disclaimers like. if someone disagreed this strongly they would not be reading this far. hi! is anyone still here. is someone still reading.

i have created life and i dont know to kill it.

i talk about one of my depictions of a player as a separate character (that is to say, a SEPARATE character from the character intended to represent the player) and i have NO idea if this is like. an OC? a defamation case in waiting? my spawn? do i have to pay childcare. does anyone know who or what im talking about or has the character been festering in my mind like an infection.

is it just me???

my advice to you: if you dont want somethin to come back dont give it a name.

consider dissecting your personal and the more widespread fandoms take on players and characters! its fun for me but i also just like taking things apart ^_^ i fear i may not be as analytical as this post demands i do a lot of restating information and thats it

[asurrogateblog]

if you’ve always been on band tumblr you might not know this but for the rest of the website the only posts from here that breach containment are beatles ones that get made fun of because people think its hilariously cringe that fans ship mclennon, and I can now say that there is nothing more deeply humbling than actually getting onto band tumblr and slowly realizing “oh okay… so everyone else was wrong that’s a completely real life thing that was happening”

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[her-canine-teeth]

paper doll by flower face

[beautifel]

seems like my heart does nothing but break lately

[volfoss]

like i genuinely cannot believe thegall that she has quinn saying that oh they loved being servants... really??

[ID: Text reading:

"“I let them go into the front parlor together, and then I went into the kitchen for lunch, where Jasmine was just telling Big Ramona that they were rich. I hated to break up their happiness with my glum looks and I blamed it all on hunger. Besides, Jasmine had always been rich and so was Big Ramona. They just never wanted to leave Blackwood Manor, everybody knew."/end ID]

[bugsmoocher]

saw a big fat cricket at work today

[sexybabystevie]

this is to ONE PERSON and one person ONLY. if you're confused, it's not you!

[kateis-cakeis]

people are really so weird and so fatphobic huh

(and oops most of my commentary is in the tags XD)

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.”

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[cutestzombiee]

synopsis— this is a part 2 of “what’s that supposed to mean?”

a/n— I did not expect so many people to like the first part and want a 2nd part .I thought it was going to going to flop. But thank you guys sm! As always there may be errors so pls forgive me. Likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

It had been about 2 weeks since you left gojo. You had been staying at his best friends, geto’s house. You were wearing getos clothes nice all of your was at your apartment that gojo is currently living in. Gojo had called you a few times, but you never answered. You weren’t sure what he wanted with you, but frankly, you didn't care what he had to say. You sat on the sugurus couch. The house filled with silence. All you could hear was the sound of your beating heart. Your mind ran through what happened that night over and over again until you couldn't even remember your own name.

you were snapped out of your thoughts about gojo when you heard the door click open and getos soft voice. "Hey .. im back, I brought us some food. " Geto had been trying to comfort you with all your favorite foods and just be by your side during this hard time.

"Thanks, suguru.. really, " you gave him a weak smile. Suguru set down his keys before he set the bag of food down on the coffee table in front of you.

"Listen.. I know that you're still heart broken about gojo and all, but he's coming here later. He said he wanted to talk to me about something. " he sounded reluctant to tell you that Gojo was coming and for good reason.

You nod your head as he spoke. He sucked in a deep breath before you spoke. Your throat was itchy because of all the crying you have been doing for the past 2 weeks. "I understand geto, ill leave after I eat." Your weak smile pulled at Geto's heart strings. He truly couldn't reason why he even let you stay so long. Geto felt bad for you, of course, but there was something else he felt for you, but he just couldn't understand what it was.

Before geto could stop himself, he quickly spoke, "You dont have to leave, sweetheart..." he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You can stay in my bedroom while he's here. I can't fathom letting that idiot drive you out of here, too. " You finally let out a real smile as you sniffle. For the first time in 2 weeks, you felt like you finally had someone that was on your side.

"Should we eat?" You ask whike smiling. Geto, let's go of your hand as he starts working the bag open.

2 HOURS LATER

You and geto had eaten and watched movies for a while before gojo texted suguru he was in his way. "Stay here, sweetheart. I'll come get you myself, " Geto reassured you as he gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.

"I'll be here waiting.. and geto thank you, really I'm very grateful for everything you have done for me. " Geto couldn't fathom how stupid Gojo was for letting someone like you out of his sight. God, if you were his, he would never let you leave his apartment.

Sugurus train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He quickly said his goodbyes and answered his front door.

You sat on Getos bed and stared at the closed bedroom door. The mere thought of gojo being just a few feet away from you made you want to throw up. As time passed, it felt like hours, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard gojo and getos' voice gradually get closer and closer to the door. You can hear geto say "cmon dude don't go in there really just go wait in the living room ill get it for you".

Before Geto could even stop him, Gojo flung the door open. His eyes immediately widen as he sees you sitting comfortably on Sugurus bed.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

edit!: prt 3

tags!! @ourfinalisation @96jnie @qashmer @sugurugirlie @gollumsmygel @ritzes28

[fallow-hollow]

haiii :D anon who requested courting rituals with kabru here !! i meant to imply somewhere like southeast asia , ( although i could totally see kabru being from an area near the himalayas or something , like nepal , since he shares a name with one of the mountains ) but i intentionally tried to specify it reallyy vague so anyone could relate ! (๑>◡<๑)

but to be fair , i dont really think dungeon meshi really mentions the southeast much or even at all ?? (｀_´)ゞother than the mention of toshiro being from the eastern archipelago , so i'd imagine reader would be from one of the various scattered islands there towards the south ? :0

( also if you need an example , some traditional courting where i'm from is something like meeting the parents and asking for permission to pursue , handwritten letters , meaningful conversations , various gifts like flowers , and serenading ! plus just genuine respect and a willingness to wait ^_^ even though im pretty sure kabru would get a bit impatient sometimes ehehe )

i know it sounds like something pretty simple but even the little things can go a long way ٩(^‿^)۶ !!

suitor

…ft! kabru x male! reader

…tags! courting, mentions of marriage, meeting reader’s family, reader is from an unspecified place outside the island, dancing, mentions of having kids

…word count! 2025

…notes! tried to make these imagines broad but not extremely so, and some of these courting gestures do have a little kabru flare to them because he’s like that. feedback is greatly appreciated, because i want to make sure my writing is accurate to each request!

Kabru isn’t someone I’d see dating casually. Sure, he frequently uses his charm to sway people’s opinions and get them on his side, but I don’t think he’s really been in a proper relationship before at all. So if Kabru’s pursuing you, it’s for keeps.

Family is a really important thing in courting/marriage culture all around the world, so trust and believe that one of the first things he does is try to get on good terms with your family members.

Don’t underestimate the man, he will somehow deduce the mailing addresses of your immediate and extended family and immediately started getting in contact, saying he was a friend of yours and telling them about the time spent with you. Pretty quickly after that, your family starts sending you letters telling you that you should’ve told them about that lovely young gentleman you’d met sooner.

“Kabru?”

Arms crossed, you did your best to remain steadfast even as your companion looked at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“Yes?” His response was laced with false innocence, but you knew he knew. He just got a kick out of hearing you say it yourself.

With a sigh, you would slump your shoulders and ask, “how did you find out the mailing address of several of my family members?”

“Oh, that was just a coincidence,” the man lied. “Remember when one of your packages got misdelivered to the tavern? The return address happened to stick in my memory, and I got curious to learn more about your family. After all, they contact you quite a bit, and I was curious about your relationship.”

Despite your lack of a headache, you rubbed your temples with your index and middle fingers to express your exasperation with the man. Kabru was great, he really was, but sometimes he confused you greatly….

“You could’ve just asked, you know that?”

The close-eyed smile he gave you in return let you know that you probably hadn’t gotten through to him much.

“I just thought it would be a nice surprise, don’t you agree?”

He might not express it much outwardly, but deep down, Kabru is really worried about being good enough to obtain the blessing to pursue you. That’s why he tries to cover as many bases as possible to be the best possible suitor for you.

When he does get to meet your family in person, he does as much preparation as humanly possible to make it all go perfectly. He studies up on local politics, sports, and cuisine in order to be able to make good conversation with your family.

I think Kabru also rather likes kids, so he’s extremely good with any younger family members you may have, which is likely to score points with your parents and other adults in the family. Kabru loves hearing the funny things kids say and seeing what sort of things their vibrant minds come up with, so he’d do things like play pretend with them. He’s also pretty physically fit, so he could play a sport or outdoor game with them too.

Even if he appears perfectly calm on the inside, he was absolutely scared shitless when he asked your family for permission to pursue you. He would assure them that he’s very much prepared to be with you in the long term, and even came prepared with things like savings for marriage or even a dowry if that’s something that is typical in your region.

Overall, Kabru is a polite, poised, and extremely well educated young man, so he’s someone that pretty much any parent would want as a son-in-law. Hearing their words of approval was like lifting the weight of an entire city off his shoulders.

“I was so worried,” your partner would admit after the fact. Completely unable to wrap your head around such a thing, you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“How could you be? You’re perfect, Kabru. If anything, I was worried you’d have something better to do than settle down with me.”

Those piercing blue eyes bored into your skull, looking at you as if you were the most insane man in the world for having said such a thing.

“How could that be when you’re perfect too?”

The question left you in such a shocked and flustered state that you hardly noticed him move into you felt both his hands holding one of your own, thumbs resting almost reverently on top of your ring finger.

“It’s almost embarrassing now to admit that at one point in time, I didn’t see a future for myself. I guess that was because I hadn’t seen you yet?”

A ‘pfft’ sound escaped your mouth almost instantly. “Oh, no need to use your smooth lines on me.”

Both thumbs pressed down on your finger ever so slightly, in the place where perhaps a ring might go.

“I mean it, I really do.”

Whether it be providing for you or taking care of a home, Kabru does his best to learn anything he needs to no one order to be a good partner. The man actually isn’t very good at taking care of himself, so him learning housework and cooking for your sake really goes to show just how devoted he is.

In fact, on one of your dates, he surprises you by presenting you with a dish he cooked himself — one from your homeland. Even if it’s not perfect, you can tell he put so much love into it.

“The arrangement of it is kind of messy, I know….” Seeing Kabru of all people acting sheepish was certainly a rare sight. As strange as it was, thinking about the implications of such a thing made you feel all warm inside. He really cared for you that much, huh……

“It’s not the appearance of it that matters, it’s the taste.” You were quick to reassure him, smiling as you took the necessary utensils in one hand. “Besides, knowing that you tried so hard for me is more than enough. I mean, I hardly ever see you cook for yourself.”

There was no way Kabru could deny your statement, so he could only nod and look to the side. Instead of directly addressing your correct assessment of his skills, he pivoted into an adjacent topic. “Cooking has always been a gesture people perform for the people they care about. All over the world, it’s something that connects families and couples… it’s only natural I should try it, regardless of my skill level.”

Your partner’s explanations of his acts of service, despite sounding like they came right out of some textbook, never failed to charm you. At its core, it was yet another reminder of how hard Kabru worked to understand how to be a good partner for you.

“It means a lot to me,” you reassured him, lifting the food to your lips, not quite eating it yet. Kabru did his best to keep his expression stone still to hide his anticipation as you inhaled the scent of the dish, making a small humming noise in reaction that he couldn’t help but overthink on the inside. Was it good? Bad? Did he not use enough spices? Too many spices? He knew he should have triple checked the recipe…

While the tallman was overthinking, you readily accepted the labor of love into your mouth, deliberating on its texture and flavor as you chewed. A sharp exhale escaped you immediately after swallowing, after which you would chirp with delight,

“It’s really nice!”

Kabru’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in the date. Mission accomplished.

I imagine Kabru keeps a journal not only about daily events, but also about people, so sometimes as a gift you might get one of the pages of his journal that has an entry about you. Sometimes the page may also contain little doodles or sketches of you, many of which were when he was admiring you without you noticing.

Kabru’s got a pretty nice singing voice, actually, and he seems to speak multiple languages, so he may try learning songs in your language to sing to you. It’s as smooth and romantic as you’d imagine, but if you start singing along with him, you can see him start to melt the second he hears your voice. You really are his weakness.

Another thing — dancing! Kabru has likely had ballroom dance lessons, but other types of dance are ones he’s more unfamiliar with. If you ever know a regional dance you want to teach him, he’ll be happy to learn, albeit super embarrassed at his own clumsiness. Being able to romance you with honeyed words and picture perfect gestures is something he prides himself on, but you reassure him that he’s just as charming even now.

A chorus of ‘sorry’s followed almost in time with the rhythm of your own feet. The man responsible for said chorus, however, didn’t seem to have much rhythm of his own yet, and was feeling rather bashful as a result.

“It’s rare that I get to see you clumsy, Kabru.” There was a teasing lilt in your voice that the other man immediately read into, despite his best judgment. Logically, he knew that you would never say something intentionally cruel to or about him, but when he was always so eager to have your favor, it was hard not to worry.

Another apology escaped his lips, after which one of your hands left its assigned position to rest under his chin. The movement of the rest of your body stilled, focusing only on getting the one you loved so dearly to face you. Blue irises were met with not a trace of malice, only the truest of endearment.

“It’s fine, Kabru.” The affection in your voice paired with how insistently you pitched these words to him gave him the strength to smile and nod in understanding, his own paranoid be damned. Resolving his habitual apologizing sated you, though you were certainly not done loving on the man that you called yours.

“Honestly it’s nice to be able to teach you things firsthand. You spend a lot of time reading about things, probably to surprise me, which is great, don’t get me wrong — but I like this.”

The little head tilt you did without thinking drove him wild on the inside, but he did his best not to show it. It would be so easy to kiss you like this.

“I like being able to feel like I can teach you something, even when you know as much as you do.”

Considering it made you this happy, Kabru might start asking you to teach him things a lot more often. For once, the thought of putting the situation in someone else’s hands made him feel warm inside instead of uneasy.

“Yeah, I like it too.”

Fashion may not be one of Kabru’s biggest interests, but the sight of you in any culture or region-specific clothing that you like always has him in awe of just how dashing you look.

This goes double if it’s your wedding and you’re wearing a traditional outfit, maybe even something passed down in the family. You might as well just kill the man then and there, really.

Speaking of marriage and family, I think Kabru would actually really like adopting a kid some time in the future, as long as everything is stable and such. Kabru himself was adopted, so the idea of becoming a home for a child who may have lost the home they had before is a concept rather close to his own heart.

Future used to be something Kabru fought desperately to create for all of humanity while never, ever considering his own place in it. So much changed after meeting you — he could actually see himself having a future now. Being an important character in a story instead of just the person telling it to somebody else.

More than anything, you saved him. He doesn’t tell this to anybody other than you, but as you lay together at night, he insists he wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

[soobiary]

a/n; hii this is the first thing i have published 🙏 also im planning on making this a series, its a hyunsu x reader 🫶 please comment and reblog if you enjoyed it, tell me if it sucks not and if u want the next part, okay?

bewitched - cha hyunsu x reader ☆

it was cold.

goosebumps spread throughout your body as you jolts awake, wincing at the cold stone pressed upon your body. your mind was a blur, how did you get here? you bring your hands into your sight as you look at them wide eyed.

is this real life?

cuts were littered onto your body, how and when did they get there? you have no idea.

"what are you doing?! get up!"

a male voice yelled out to you. you put your hands by your side, finally taking in your surroundings. there was rubble everywhere, and it was like a building had collapsed. a sign that read "green home mansion apartments" stood there, covered in weeds and moss.

wait. green home apartments..?

"hey! can you hear me? are you trying to die?"

the man runs up to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you up. your mind seemed absent, and you felt like you were missing something but you didn't know what.

you let out a gasp as you are pulled away by the tall man. you eyed his army green uniform, a soldier?

"miss! can you hear me? how long have you been here for? we need to get you some help."

the soldier placed you down into a truck, shaking your shoulders slightly as he spoke.

"n-no...i don't remember."

you shake your head slightly, trying to clear your confusion.

"who are you? whats happening?"

you feel overwhelmed and confused, and the fog in your mind is making it difficult to process what's going on. you look over at the soldier, hoping that he can provide some answers to your questions.

the soldier glances over at you, his expression empathetic.

"look miss, we need to get you to help. you're hurt and you seem dazed from what happened back there."

you look away and furrow your brows, as if you are thinking very hard to answer his question.

"do you have any idea of who you are or how you ended up in this mess? did you lose your memory?"

you look away, not wanting to face his questions. you feel overwhelmed and confused, and you sense that he is growing impatient with your silence.

you look back, examining his appearance. hes wearing a army green uniform, and he has a name tag on his chest that reads;

park chan-young.

"we can talk about this later then, when your mind clears up. for now, stay in the back seat. dont do anything crazy, alright?"

you nod in agreement, wanting to respect the soldiers authority. you take a seat in the back of the truck. you keep your gaze out the window as the ride progresses. the enviroment looks darker and colder than what you remember, which is unusual.

"excuse me sir. im sorry if i sound dumb by asking this..but whats going on..? where is everyone?"

you turn your gaze to the soldier sitting in the front seat. he glances in the mirror to look at you.

"you really don't know? the powers out, and theres monsters everywhere. no one knows who or what caused it."

"monsters... are you serious?"

your mind feels even more cloudier and confused as you try to process this new information. you began to consider whether the soldier might be making some kind of joke, or if he actually believes that there are monsters outside. you look out the window again, still noticing how dark it is outside.

"you're not making this up, are you?"

you ask slowly, still hoping the soldier will confirm your suspicions that he's not being serious.

The soldier looks back at you with an exasperated expression.

"miss, trust me, I wish I was making this up, but it's real. we don't have time to waste, we need to keep you and everyone else out of danger."

as he speaks, you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach, as it dawns on you that the soldier might be telling the truth. but you're still not sure how to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"if there really are monsters out there... what do they look like?" you ask cautiously him.

the soldier takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"they come in all shapes and sizes, we can't really pin it down," he says with a grim expression.

"some are animal-like, some are human-like, and some are straight out of nightmares. you've got to trust me when I say you don't want to find out what they look like."

you are about to respond when suddenly a loud bang is heard from outside of the truck. the soldier glances out the windshield, a look of concern on his face.

"miss, i need you to stay quiet" he whispers urgently.

you sit in stillness, holding your breath, and you can hear the soldier pull out his weapon and cock it.

"get ready," he mouths silently.

you feel the truck come to a sudden stop, and as you look out the windshield, you notice that a group of monsters are surrounding the vehicle. the soldier raises his gun and fires at the monsters, as they start to lunge towards the truck.

[lordsukunas]

“i think forever would be nice with you.”

synop. kunigami wants to be with you for life.

tags. fem!reader (called ma’am once), fluff fluff fluff, uh a bit of angst if u really really really squint, reader is a tease and kind of a pessimist (or maybe a realistic idk up to u), kunigami is head over heels, dont ask when this would happen in canon bc idk, not proofread

note. ngl im tired asf... if this is incoherent, im sorry. the ending is vv awkward, mb. uhhhh man idk what else to say kunigami is the sweetest boy alive. this is inspired by one of those timtok slideshows, the one thing that app has done good forme

you flop back on the sand, chest heaving up and down from trying (and failing) to race kunigami. sweat rolls down the side of your face and neck, and you can feel the gritty sand clinging to your bare feet and legs.

“tired?” he plops down on the sand beside you and reaches for your hand. his larger, thicker fingers intertwine with yours, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to comfort you after your shameful loss.

“very,” you huff out. your lungs burn as you gulp down air. “how do you— how do you do this every week?”

he shrugs. “habit. started when i was kid, found it fun, so i kept doing it. helps me stay in shape whenever i don’t wanna go to the gym or just need some time alone.”

his free finger doodles the face of a polar bear in the sand. you smile — it’s cute how he knows how to draw that from memory.

your eyes roll to look at him. his face is shiny with sweat, and the pale moonlight softens his features, giving kunigami almost a boyish look.

there’s no one else here. just you, kunigami, and the sounds of the waves lapping against each other and the shore. the beach is clean, too. not a crumpled beer can or a plastic wrapper in sight.

“does anyone else even know this place exists?” there’s that familiar teasing lilt in your voice, but he knows you’re serious.

he scratches the back of his head. “nah. i mean, there’s the occasional fisherman or maybe some elderly couple, but i don’t think anyone our age knows about this.”

“huh.”

a pause, and the warm breeze blows across your skin, dusting the sand away.

you grin. “so you’re just gonna gatekeep this for eternity, huh?”

“what? no!” you can practically feel his cheeks heating up from here. “i didn’t wanna ruin it by bringing the wrong people here, y’know? they might trash it or somethin’.”

“and what if i trash it?”

“you won’t.” kunigami’s reply is instant, the words shooting out of his mouth and into the night’s atmosphere. “you’re special.”

whatever goofy reply you had on your tongue instantly melts, and you’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat or two. how can he say such romantic things so... so casually?

“i, uh...” he sighs and goes back to tracing shapes in the sand, his hand still holding on tightly to yours. “you wouldn’t do something like that. even if you did, i’ll be right there to clean it up.”

you push yourself up so that you’re sitting criss-cross. your entire body is facing him now. “but what if we break up? or you move away?”

“i won’t. we won’t.”

your brows knit together. “rensuke, you don’t know that.”

something is bound to happen. something always happens. nothing good lasts forever, right? he’s in blue lock, dedicating weeks at a time to train and play in tournaments to be the world’s best striker — at some point, he’s going to have to choose. you or his football career.

even to yourself, you sound pessimistic. but you just have to be honest with yourself. life isn’t a fairytale, despite kunigami being your knight in shining armor.

“i want forever with you.”

his gaze meets yours, determination burning in auburn irises. “i’m not gonna sit here and lie to you or be embarrassed about it, ‘cause it’s true.”

you blink, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs.

kunigami, your boyfriend of two years, wants forever with you.

it’s ridiculous, fantastical, a hundred other synonymous terms. both of you are seventeen — you have decades and decades ahead of you to decide when you want and who you’re going to spend forever with.

and he chose you.

his adam’s apple bobs, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “do you want forever with me?” his grip on your hand tightens.

“yeah.”

you don’t have to think about it. there’s nothing to think about it. it’s dumb and unrealistic, sure, but when has kunigami ever broken a promise? when has he ever lied to you?

it doesn’t take decades of being together to know that kunigami loves you with all of his heart, and you love him just the same.

your lips curl into a smile, and you can’t tell whether your vision is getting blurry from happy or sad tears. “i want forever with you.”

“okay.” he adjusts himself so that, now, both of you are facing each other. his shins touch yours, and his other hand grabs yours.

“‘okay’? that’s it? after you basically just proposed to me?” you raise an eyebrow. “with no ring, either! you could’ve gotten me a ring pop.”

kunigami chuckles, the tension seeping out of his bulky form. “sorry. i’ll get you a ring pop on the way back.”

“two ring pops, actually, and they better be the right flavor.”

“yes, ma’am.”

[intrinsicepiphany]

Okay tumblr lets talk theories again.

(my brain rot + knowledge of religion has me all up in Hazbin Hotel right now.)

Today I want to talk Biology! Mostly because I made the poor choice of going to Twitter's chaggie tag and looking at the comments...

So can we discuss Why do so many people keep trying to apply HUMAN biology to the Half-Demon Nephillim daughter of an Arch-Angel?!

Okay I'll start at the begining and work my way to the reasons why if Charlie really wants a kid with Vaggie both of them being assigned female at creation probably isn't going to matter.

Let's start with Lucifer!

So as far as has been shown in the show Lucifer is an original Archangel even down to his lovely 6 red wings. This makes him one of the most powerful beings in heaven.

(If we go by bible text he was actually a favorite until his dreams of free will led him astray and depending on the text he merely has to admit he was wrong and ask for forgiveness to return)

Now looking at everything after this fall he has never lost his Angelic Abilities. His default powers are still angelic gold.

We do see he also has a Full Demon form when he is pissed. Interestingly enough his crown also doubles as a halo in this form. Also note for later just how much Charlie resembles him in both forms.

This suggest that at root biology Lucifer is still an archangel with demon traits. This combination is most likely what makes him the strongest being in hell by a long shot. The only reason others even have power is purely because he doesnt care enough to flex his power and has no desire to actually rule.

Now on to Lilith!

What do we know about Lilith?

Well we know she was a created human not born.

She was Adam's equal

And she left and got with Lucifer before the fall.

So here is the deal... I dont think Lilith can be classified as a sinner. She didnt die to end up in hell and in fact she fell before hell was really a thing. she helped create it after all. (Plus you know Charlie exsists)

So what IS Lilith? I think Lilith as one of a few Actual Demons. And if we have to classify her she'd be closer to a Sin. I actually think of Lilith as the Sin of Pride in Hazbin Hotel not Lucifer. We are even told that She created pentagram city and developed hell while lucifer kept to his workshop in depression.

Now let's talk about this scene for a second. Lilith fell from heaven/earth Alive and possibly even immortal since human kind was immortal before Eve took the apple.

Lilith gains power from her fall into hell. She develops demon like attributes and seems to have musical based magic. She also seems to retain or get immortality. So what does this fall mean? It means that Lilith was NOT HUMAN by the time Charlie was born.

So what does this mean for Charlie?

Well for one Charlie is NOT just some Hellborn. She is by Definition a Nephilim but she is not half-human. She would most likely be considered a Half-Demon, Half-Angel Nephilim.

This would explain her expansive (if never used) power base. The official power ranking has her tied with Lilith with only Lucifer being more powerful. Which makes complete sense. She is the Heir to the entire thing after all. (I actually think this is why Alastor couldnt make a deal for her soul and settled for a favor instead)

She also inheirited Angelic powers from her father. As seen by the fact that her default magic is gold. Which means she has angel blood in her veins. Lets be honest i wouldnt be surprised if she ended up bleeding gold in the future.

In fact she seems to have inherited most of her abilities from dear old dad.

Im pretty sure that just by shear ability and magic if Charlie wanted a kid she could probably create/magic one into exsistance no matter who her partner was.

But lets review Vaggie just for fun! Because I have thoughts

What do we actually know about Vaggie?

Well we know she is an angel. I say is because I dont think Lute or Adam actually have the power to cast an angel out of heaven AND she gets her wings back. This would mean she is not actually a sinner she would be closer to a fallen angel like lucifer.

We know she speaks Spanish and seems to be of Hispanic nature. BUT! Do we know if she was ever really human?!

We know Adam claims to have named her Vaggie. This could suggest three things

1) exorcist take on a new name when they join. But if this was true why wouldnt she leave this name behind and return to her human name once in hell? It would have kept her secret better and you'd figure she would want to leave behind the negative feelings that would come with her exorcist name.

2) Adam in his self-centered ways misheard her real name (maybe something like Aggie from Agatha or Maggie) and thought she said Vaggie or actively chose to misinterpret her name and she never cared to correct him. BUT Once more why would she not just return to her real name once with Charlie in hell?

Or 3) And this one is the real kicker. Vaggie is a Heaven-born Angel.

If the answer is 3 than it would imply that she was never human which brings her closer to lucifers biology.

Some other interesting things to consider about this last theory. Lute and Vaggie resemble each other a great deal. In fact, all the exorcist seem to have a similar body type. (I mean you could argue its the uniform but even without the uniform the resembalance between lute and vaggie is uncanny) and if I remember correctly at one point the exterminators are refered to as sister? I mean this could mean sisters-in-arms BUT What if ALL exorcist were heaven-born?

If they were never human this could explain both their ability and their desire to slay sinners. Much like Sera they wouldn't have any sympathy for the dammed because they wouldn't have any possible family that could end up down there. They would also have Very little connection to or concern for former humans. After all like Adam said they had their chance and they screwed up.

So in the end what does this all mean?

Well I actually already kind of said it

1) Fandom really needs to stop applying human biology to Charlie. She is a half demon half archangel Nephilim with incredible magic.

If charlie wants a kid she can probably magic one up no matter the obsticles please stop asking artist and writers how it is possible for her and vaggie to have a kid/get pregnant if they are both women - the answer is Charlie Magic.

2) all 4 of the above have the potential to be way stronger than they have been shown in the show.

And

3) Charlie is a potential BadAss and is just too nice to go full tactical nuke - this will be covered in my next ted talk.