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bosbas · 7 months

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Chapter 1: if a man talks shit then I owe him nothing

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy-ish!fem!reader WC: 4.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, some strong language, a small part of the dialogue is in French (with translations provided), period-typical views on women, alluding to sex, mentions of alcohol

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: French is not my first language so IM SORRY if the dialogue is a bit weird. I speak some French and obvi double checked to make sure it made sense but please lmk if i made a mistake

April 14, 1816 – Dearest Gentle Readers,

A new season is upon us, and so my work begins anew. Firstly, we can reacquaint ourselves with the familiar faces we expect to see this season. It has been two years since Viscount Anthony Bridgerton married, and dowager Viscountess Bridgerton is surely itching to secure a match for more of her children. Miss Eloise Bridgerton, now in her second year of being out, remains unmarried. And, of course, one cannot help but wonder whether the charming Mr. Colin Bridgerton will return from his travels in time for the season. Though Benedict Bridgerton has been absent from the public eye as of late, he could also be considered an eligible bachelor. Shall we see any of them marry this season? This author remains skeptical, though, with the Bridgertons, one must always expect the unexpected.

There are, however, plenty of new faces. Chief among them are the two youngest Montclair siblings. The Montclairs resided in London for the debut of Lady Charlotte Montclair, now the Duchess of Somerset, before vanishing from England’s social scene. Until now, of course. Though Lord Louis Montclair is only two and twenty and may still be considered green for the marriage mart, all eyes will surely be on Lady Y/N Montclair as she steps into the spotlight and searches for an impressively titled gentleman. Though the Montclairs have graced the streets of Calcutta, Rome, Geneva, and Madrid, among other illustrious locales, one can only hope that the grandeur of London lives up to their expectations.

You let out a resigned sigh of frustration, scolding yourself for your tardiness as you hurried down the stairs. It was half an hour past when you were supposed to be in the breakfast room, and your mother was bound to be at least a little displeased with you. It was the first time your entire family was in the same place since your older brother Jacques got married in September. Despite being a big family, six siblings in total, four of whom were married, it was unusual that you had gone so long without seeing them all in one place.

Moving from country to country every few years for much of your upbringing had made your siblings a very tight-knit bunch. So, as you neared the breakfast room, which was full of laughter and lively conversation, you couldn't shake the twinge of guilt for your late arrival.

But you couldn’t help it! Not this time, at least. It had been your first night in London since your sister Charlotte’s season eight years ago, and you had stayed up until the early hours of the morning stargazing in your garden. There was a secluded patch of grass between the summer pavilion and the tulips, a secret spot hidden from prying eyes, where you could spend hours looking at the sky in peaceful solitude. Last time you were in London, you had snuck out of your bedroom every night to stare at the stars, and you had been pleased to find that the spot remained undiscovered.

You had always been comforted by the fact that the cosmos would remain the same even if your home did not. The night sky had become somewhat of a companion during your childhood years, and you were interested to see what part of it you were privy to in London at this time of year. Perhaps a scolding and a lecture from your mother were not such a high price to pay for the opportunity to reacquaint yourself with the stars, you reasoned.

You slithered into the breakfast room quietly, hoping to draw as little attention to yourself as possible, but you had no such luck. Your brother closest to you in age, Louis, was sitting nearest to the door and noticed your late entrance immediately.

Taking advantage of every opportunity to make your life just a little harder, he goaded, “T'es très en retard, demoiselle. Ce n'est pas convenable pour une fille en quête d'un mari!” (You’re very late, young lady. This is not suitable for a girl looking for a husband!)

Under any other circumstances, you might have laughed at his impression of your mother, but you were quite sleep-deprived and in no mood to have your brother lecture you. You sighed in frustration, hissing, “Louis, ferme ta gue-” (Louis, shut you mou-)

“English, please!” interrupted your father, not even looking up from his newspaper as he sat at the head of the table.

You were relieved he hadn’t commented on your colorful language, but his curt reprimand reminded you that it was in poor taste to speak a language not everyone could understand. Growing up, your family had primarily spoken French, but with none of your siblings having married a francophone, you were now only allowed to speak in French when everyone present could speak it, too. It was a rule enforced particularly during big family gatherings such as this one. Despite your fluency in five languages, your parents insisted on English, the only common language among all twelve family members.

“Sorry,” you muttered, not quite sure that your father had even heard. You slid into your seat between Louis and your brother Jacques’ wife, Chiara. Still annoyed with Louis, you turned to the newest addition to the Montclair family and smiled at her warmly.

“Ciao, Y/N,” she greeted, smiling back and kissing you on the cheek.

“Ciao, Chiara, è bello rivederti,” you responded (Hi Chiara, it’s nice to see you again). You were tempted to keep speaking to her in Italian–you liked the practice, after all–but feared another scolding from your father. So, you settled for, “I trust your trip back home was good?”

“Oh, it was lovely. Florence always is at this time of year. You should come back to visit sometime! Beatrice misses you terribly,” she exclaimed.

Beatrice was Chiara’s younger sister, whom you had become dear friends with while living in Tuscany. You had remained in Tuscany for nearly four years, longer than you usually stayed in one place, and though you were itching to leave and see more of the world by the end of your time in Florence, you were thankful you had met Beatrice. Both of you were delighted when you realized your brother was marrying her sister, ensuring you would remain close even when you moved away.

You sighed. “I miss her, too. We correspond quite regularly, but it’s simply not the same. I assume it will be worse now that I am in England and even farther from her,” you lamented.

After Jacques and Chiara’s wedding, your parents, Louis, and you returned home to Amboise for a few months. Beatrice had visited for the holidays along with Chiara and Jacques, but you knew she was unlikely to come to England when she was busy with her season back home.

Chiara smiled sympathetically. “Well, Jacques and I are only staying for a few weeks before returning to Tuscany. If you get bored here in London, you are always welcome to visit,” she comforted.

It was a lovely thought, but you doubted your parents would allow you to leave England until you were married. Your parents’ marriage had most certainly not been a love match, and though they did grow to love each other eventually, they didn’t particularly care whether you loved the man you married. To them, marriage was an economic endeavor rather than a romantic one. You had never minded much, having accepted your fate early in life as you watched your siblings marry strategically.

Nevertheless, you had grown rather nervous about your season after watching the outcome of Charlotte’s. In your parents’ eyes, her season was a complete success as she married a Duke a few short months after her debut. But you knew better. Not all of your siblings had enjoyed moving around so much, but you, Louis, and Charlotte were the most enthusiastic. Having married the Duke of Somerset, Charlotte had become Duchess, and her duties tied her to England. After such an international childhood, you knew Charlotte was dreadfully bored of staying in England year after year.

You knew there were much worse marriages to be in, but you still wanted to avoid being permanently tied to England, of all places. You were only twenty years old, after all, and you still had so much of the world to see.

---

“By the way,” Violet said, strategically avoiding the topic until she was about to leave the sitting room. “Both of you are attending the Danbury ball tomorrow night.”

The expected chorus of complaints filled her ears, and she shook her head in amusement at her children’s petulance. One would think she was trying to force them to walk halfway across the world!

Violet sighed and said firmly, “I understand that neither of you is particularly enthusiastic, but we are not so rude as to miss the first ball of the season. And at Lady Danbury’s home, at that! Surely the retribution you would receive from her is enough to make you want to go.”

“Well, Colin’s coming home from Greece tomorrow and I hardly think he’ll be in attendance, so I don’t see why we should be,” argued Eloise, earning an enthusiastic nod from Benedict.

“You make the mistake of thinking that I have not already informed Colin he will be in attendance. None of you have the option to stay home, I’m afraid.”

And with that, she left her grumbling children behind in favor of a quiet turn around the garden.

---

Colin arrived at Number 5 Bruton Street feeling rather unkempt. His journey from Greece had been particularly tumultuous, and he was ready to change clothes and sleep for the next seventeen hours.

“Colin! I’m so glad you’re home,” exclaimed Violet upon seeing him. For all her nagging, he was quite fond of his mother and found that he had missed her while he had been away. Seeing tears forming in her eyes, Colin wrapped Violet up in a tight hug, hoping to avoid feeling worse about being away for so long.

“He’s home!” shouted Gregory, running up to greet him. The rest of his siblings followed suit, and Colin basked in the excitement of his homecoming.

To the rest of the ton, Colin was the most well-liked Bridgerton due to his easygoing nature and cheerful demeanor, and because he was rather good-looking as well, he hoped. However, it was nice to know that his family still cared for him despite his prolonged absences.

“The Danbury ball is in a few hours, so make sure to be ready on time,” his mother reminded him once she had gathered herself.

He groaned, having forgotten he had promised his mother he would attend. He sighed as he prepared for an evening of excruciating conversation as he politely listened to ambitious mamas name every single positive attribute their daughters possessed in the hopes of impressing him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, but rather that he remained uninterested in marriage, finding his travels a much more exciting prospect. But he had a reputation to maintain, so he would be as courteous as ever to everyone he met and perhaps even dance with a few of them.

A few hours later, the Bridgertons were, quite impatiently, one could say, waiting for Benedict to finish getting ready so they could leave for the Danbury Ball.

“Excited for your third season?” Colin directed his question at Eloise. He knew the answer, of course, but he was growing bored of waiting for Benedict and thought that this would be the perfect distraction.

“Shut up.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone you absolutely adore, El. Don’t close yourself off to the possibilities,” preached Colin, annoying Eloise further.

“What about you, Colin? Five and twenty and still unmarried, that’s a bit ghastly don’t you think?” she shot back.

Of course, it wasn't unheard of to be unmarried at his age, but Colin panicked regardless, knowing his mother would surely love to join the conversation now that his marriage prospects were a talking point. But Benedict saved him by walking down the stairs at that moment.

“Finally! Now can we go, please?” exclaimed Eloise.

“I’m surprised, Eloise. I thought you didn’t want to go to this ball,” teased Benedict, but she only grumbled in return as they headed toward their carriage.

The carriage rides were usually the worst part of going to a ball. Violet Bridgerton, efficient as ever, would inform each of her children of the possible prospects that would be in attendance that night, impossibly elongating the journey and making the Bridgertons less and less pleased about being forced to go. They weren't always forced, of course, but the carriage rides certainly made it seem that way.

“The Montclairs will be in London for the season, I heard. Lady Y/N Montclair will be making her debut, which will surely interest you two,” said Violet, nodding at the men in the carriage. “And for you, Eloise, her older brother Lord Louis Montclair is perhaps too young to get married, but it wouldn’t hurt to speak with him and practice your French.”

Violet droned on for the rest of the ride, and the Bridgerton siblings could barely get out of the carriage fast enough when it arrived at Danbury House. Little did they know that they had played right into Violet’s plan. She wanted to enjoy the evening and visit with her friends, and hopefully, her overly long analysis of the key figures at today’s ball would keep her children away from her enough for her to do so.

Inside the ballroom, you were speaking with a perfectly nice but quite boring gentleman. You couldn’t quite remember his name, having talked to at least a dozen men practically identical to him already. You barely registered his request for a dance, and you only realized you had accepted when you found yourself in the middle of the dance floor. Luckily, the dance went by fairly quickly and you were able to sprinkle in interested hums and “oh really?” at the appropriate times. All in all, it was not a terrible experience, if only you could remember his name.

He returned you to your mother and bowed in parting, kissing your hand and promising to call on you the next day.

“Who was that?” you muttered once he had left.

“Y/N,” she scolded, but could barely contain her laughter. “I can’t believe you danced with a man you don’t even know the name of!”

You shrugged, not particularly interested in learning who he was anymore.

“Is there anyone else you want me to meet?” you asked her, hoping she would say no and you would be free to find Louis and talk to someone familiar at last.

But your mother was distracted from answering as she saw two tall men crossing the ballroom. She squeezed your arm and nodded in their direction, careful to be discreet.

“Those are the Bridgertons. Their oldest brother, the Viscount, is already married, but it is of no consequence. Perhaps the second and third sons might not be fit to be your husband, but you should still introduce yourself and make a good impression should you encounter them.”

You nodded, disinterested. You were too busy looking around the room, realizing that there was still a myriad of gentlemen left to speak with. It seemed that there were too many eligible bachelors if that was even possible. You had thought there would be five men that your mother would have approved of, at most, and you could make your pick between them. But it seemed London was a particularly popular place for titled gentlemen to search for a wife, and you were growing uneasy.

Trying not to think about the long evening ahead of you, you tuned back into what your mother was saying. “Oh! I don’t quite know where Colin Bridgerton has gone off to now, but Benedict is over by the lemonade if you can see him. I believe that is his sister, Eloise. They all look identical, don’t they? The same brown h-”

“Pardon me,” you interrupted as panic rose in your chest. You were in desperate need of a respite, and could hardly handle another minute listening to her speak about more men she needed you to meet. “I think I see an old friend of mine, and I must say hello,” you lied.

Your mother raised her eyebrows in surprise, shocked that you remembered people from eight years ago, but let you go regardless. Impatiently, you waited until someone else engaged her in conversation and quietly slipped out into the hallway. Stepping out of a ball on your own like this was forbidden, and your father would surely have your head if he found out you had risked being found unchaperoned and away from the ball, but you needed to get away for just a moment to gather yourself.

Lady Danbury’s home was quite beautiful, you found, and you were enjoying looking at the art on her walls as you roamed the halls. You were careful not to stray too far, not knowing your way around and recognizing that you only had a short time before someone was bound to notice your absence.

Suddenly, your senses heightened as you heard two men’s voices far closer than you would have liked. Panicking, you jumped around a corner and prayed that no one would find you, absolutely not ready to be forced to marry a man only one ball into your debut. You willed your heart to stop beating so loudly lest you get caught and tried to discern what the men were saying, unable to quell your curiosity despite the precarious position you found yourself in.

“And, if she's the right sort of woman, you won’t even have to do anything, she'll just get on top and do all the work. Though I suppose it all depends on her dowry. The larger the dowry the more I’m willing to overlook,” slurred one of them. “And you, Colin? Do any ladies catch your eye? I’m sure you could get away with anything with any of these girls, though I suggest picking one that’s got good hips.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the same time as you heard 'Colin' say, “Why don’t we continue this conversation outside, Nigel?”

Their footsteps echoed down the hall and you risked a glance at them, still horrified but wanting to know who they were anyway. You were unsurprised to find Nigel walking toward the garden, having met Mr. Nigel Berbrooke earlier in the evening and finding him quite unpleasant. However, you were shocked to find who you assumed to be Colin Bridgerton walking quite close to Mr. Berbrooke. Hadn’t your mother said the Bridgertons were people of good standing? Surely someone would have noticed that the third son was a complete ass. But perhaps he was the odd one out, and the rest of his family was lovely. Or perhaps Englishmen were simply unpleasant as a whole. Whatever the reason for his horrible comments, you decided you despised Colin Bridgerton and dreaded the day you would have to speak with him.

“Quel salaud,” you muttered angrily under your breath after you heard Mr. Bridgerton close the door to the outdoor patio (What a bastard). Pacing up and down the hallway, you were too enraged by what you heard to return to the ballroom.

The quality of men in England seemed to be quite lacking, and suddenly you wished you could follow in your sister Isabelle’s footsteps and go to Spain to find a titled gentleman there. Isabelle had seemed quite excited about all her suitors before eventually settling on Carlos, who practically worshipped the ground she walked on. Unfortunately, it seemed that you were not destined for such a husband, you thought glumly.

But you supposed you didn't really have a choice. You let out a weary sigh and leaned heavily against the wall, shaking your head as you accepted the reality of your situation. With an angry humph and one last look to make sure no one was around, you quietly slipped back into the ballroom and searched for your mother, who would surely be looking for you now. As you expected, she spotted you almost instantly, and she immediately drew you into conversation with a gentleman you believed to be an Earl.

---

Colin stood outside the door to the ballroom, flexing his fingers to make sure there was still feeling there. Confirming the health of his right hand, he gently opened the ballroom door with his left and stepped inside, looking around for Benedict. Spotting him a few feet away, Colin quickly made his way over hoping to avoid any particularly insistent mamas at this precise moment.

“You look quite relaxed,” commented Benedict, earning a glare from Colin.

“Berbrooke,” Colin explained flatly. “How that man manages to get so drunk so quickly I will never know.”

But suddenly his attention was drawn elsewhere. Time seemed to slow down as a stunning lady he had never seen before crossed the ballroom. He was paralyzed, stuck to his spot on the ground as he stared after you. The only thing he could hear was his heart beating loudly in his ears, and though Colin wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, he imagined it might have felt something like this if he did. Without a second thought, he knew he had to know you. It was almost instinctual.

Colin tugged on Benedict’s sleeve, his eyes still glued to your form as you laughed politely at whoever you were speaking with. “Who is that over there? Have you spoken with her?”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” responded Benedict. “You could always ask Mother.”

“I might do just that, actually,” hummed Colin, deep in thought.

Benedict choked back a laugh, looking over at his younger brother. “Are you being serious?”

Tearing his eyes away from you for a moment, Colin turned to his brother, confused. “Well, yes. If anyone knows who she is, it’ll be her, no?”

Realizing that Colin was, in fact, quite serious, Benedict’s expression sobered. “You are aware if you even hint at the fact that you might be interested in her, Mother will surely come up with at least a dozen plans to marry you off?”

“I don’t think that would be the worst thing in the world,” Colin reasoned, eyes searching for you in the crowd again. Five minutes ago, he would’ve thought it silly, how captivated he was by you. But five minutes ago, he had not yet seen you.

Just as he was about to seek out his mother to ask about you, Lady Danbury walked up to the pair of Bridgertons and poked Colin's foot with her cane. Usually, her presence would have instilled a healthy dose of fear in him, but tonight all he really wanted was to know you, and he supposed Lady Danbury was just as knowledgeable as Violet Bridgerton about the goings on of the ton.

“What are you doing staring at Lady Montclair?” she demanded.

“Lady Montclair? Is that her name?” Then, vaguely remembering what his mother had said on the carriage ride to the ball, he added, “The one from France?”

Lady Danbury hummed, suspicious of Colin’s enthusiasm. “Yes. Lady Y/N Montclair. Speaking with her brother Lord Louis Montclair. Are you interested?”

“I think I am, yes,” he sighed.

“I do believe she has space left on her dance card,” prompted Lady Danbury, doing very little to hide the fact that she was nudging Colin in your direction.

Once Colin had taken off, Benedict turned to her, not distracted enough to forget decorum as his brother had. “This is a wonderful ball, Lady Danbury. My deepest gratitude to you for inviting us, as always.”

But she only waved his thanks away. “Shush, boy. I’m trying to pay attention to Colin willingly asking a lady to dance for the first time.”

Soft music floated through the ballroom as you laughed quietly with Louis, who seemed to be having a wonderful time terrorizing your mother and refusing to dance with any ladies she introduced to him. The gentle hum of the room was interrupted by the sound of footsteps beside you, and with a polite smile on your face, you turned to greet whoever had approached. Realizing you were face to face with Mr. Colin Bridgerton, your expression immediately turned stony.

Bowing with just the right degree of formality, Colin introduced himself, his charm seemingly effortless. He certainly played the part of a perfect gentleman; you could give him that. But you couldn’t forget his conversation with Mr. Berbrooke, the distasteful words replaying in your mind over and over.

Then, extending his hand to you and tilting his head slightly toward the dance floor, a soft smile on his lips, he asked, “Would you care to dance with me this evening, Lady Montclair?”

Looking at him squarely, you responded, your voice sickly sweet, “Why no, Mr. Bridgerton. I don’t believe I would.”

—

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todomitoukei · 3 months

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Japanese vs. English Todoroki Family Finale - A 426 Comparison

Just a few days after Horikoshi announced that there were only 5 chapters left, the so-called final chapter for the Todoroki family came out, as always sparking lots of discussion and bringing forth countless questionable takes, followed by the release of the official English translation.

So let’s take a closer look at the Japanese lines, starting with the Todoroki family’s short conversation before going to see Touya:

「来なくて大丈夫って言ったのに！」

「来なくて ; konakute」-> not coming 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> okay; alright 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of と) 「言った ; itta」-> said 「のに ; noni」-> even though

= “Even though we said it’s okay not to come.”

「それを言うなら貴方たちもよ冬美夏雄」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「貴方たち ; anatatachi」-> you (plural) 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Fuyumi, Natsuo.”

What stood out to me here was Rei calling him Natsuo, when usually, everyone else (except Endeavor) calls him Natsu-kun or Natsu. Calling him by the full version of his first name rather than a shortened version might be done to indicate that things have changed, although not necessarily in a negative way. It's more that there has been a shift.

By the way, I am working on a masterpost talking about how the family addresses + refers to each other. Yes, I am going through the entire manga for that (this is a cry for help). Once the manga is finished I will post it (at some point), so look out for that if you’re interested in finding out exactly how many times who gets called what (yes, I am counting and making graphs)!

「お母さんでも…」

「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「でも ; demo」-> but

= “But mom…”

「それを言うならおまえもだ冷」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「だ ; da」-> be 「冷 ; rei」-> Rei

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Rei.”

I love that he almost fully copies Rei’s phrase here. This is the first of many unoriginal lines that he has in this chapter. It only goes downhill from here.

「義務感で来たんじゃねぇから！皆そうだろ」

「義務感 ; gimukan」-> sense of duty (obligation) 「で ; de」-> with; by 「来た ; kita」-> came 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねえ ; janee」-> isn’t 「から ; kara」-> because; so (used to change the other person’s thoughts etc.) 「皆 ; mina」-> everyone 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だろ ; daro」-> right?

= “I didn’t come out of a sense of duty! Everyone is that way, right?”

Usually, a second phrase would follow up the kara, but can also be left out when the meaning of that second phrase is implied enough. Since Fuyumi said Shouto didn’t have to come (if he didn’t want to, didn’t feel comfortable etc.) there is an implication that perhaps he only showed up because he felt like that was expected of him. Ending his clarification of “I didn’t come because I felt obligated” with kara “so” the implied follow up would be along the lines of “don’t worry”, which then gets wrapped up suggesting that all of them are showing up not because they feel pressured to do so, but because they want to visit Touya - since they basically just went around in a circle letting each other know they didn’t have to come if they don’t want to.

「会話は可能ですが一日に数分が限界です」

「会話 ; kaiwa」-> conversation 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「可能 ; kanou」-> possible 「です ; desu」-> to be 「が ; ga」-> but 「一日 ; ichi nichi」-> one day 「に ; ni」-> at; in 「数分 ; suufun」-> a few minutes 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Conversations are possible, but a few minutes a day is the limit.”

I’m not sure how long Touya has been in here, but this line indicates that the staff members have been talking to him and I’d be curious to know what those conversations were like. What did they talk about? What kind of attitude did he give them? What was his reaction when he first regained consciousness? These are the questions we want answered, but alas, the Todoroki family plot simply isn’t about him. All the way to the bitter end it shall remain focusing on the most underrepresented group of them all: rich middle-aged men.

「緩やかに死へと向かっている…それが今の轟燈矢です」

「緩やかに ; yuruyakani」-> slowly 「死 ; shi」-> death 「へと ; e to」-> towards 「向かっている ; mukatteiru」-> to face; to head toward 「れ ; sore」-> that 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「今 ; ima」-> now; current 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「轟燈矢 ; todoroki touya」-> Touya Todoroki 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Slowly heading towards death… that is the current Touya Todoroki.”

The particle e is a directional particle that can be translated as “toward”. Adding the particle to after it adds an emotional emphasis to the part that follows the to particle as opposed to just stating a fact, there is sympathy in this claim.

As for the claim itself - I know that a lot of people are convinced he is going to die because look! Random nameless character #47AAB7 said so, it must be true! But to be honest, I’m not even going to entertain that thought because despite all the criticism I have for this story, Horikoshi isn’t that bad of a writer. If he had wanted Touya dead, he could’ve easily killed him at the end of the last war. It makes zero sense for him to be saved and then pass away quietly and peacefully in a hospital (or whatever that place is).

Even if we were to say that Shouto managed to save him emotionally, so that counts as a win! It’s kind of a shit win if the only difference is that you now get to die “at peace”, which also could’ve been accomplished on the battlefield. At this point, it’s just inefficient and therefore, him dying at this point is not going to happen.

「........ぞろぞろと」

「ぞろぞろ ; zorozoro」-> in droves; swarming 「と ; to」-> adds emphasis

= “....In droves”

Zorozoro is used to describe several beings (can be humans or animals) that appear or move together like a swarm. This certainly is the first time the entire family is together, so it’s not surprising the rare sight is being pointed out in a joking manner, although he undoubtedly means this in a positive way as it contradicts his prior belief of no one in his family caring about him or missing him.

The fact that, upon first waking up after his coma as a teenager his immediate thought was to return and apologize, and now after ten years he finally gets the chance to talk to them and what is the first thing coming out of his mouth? Calling them a swarm. Forever and always the most relatable character.

「ハハ…観光名所じゃねぇんだよ........」

「ハハ ; haha」-> haha 「観光名所 ; kankoumeisho」-> tourist attraction; sightseeing spot 「じゃねぇ ; janee」-> isn’t 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “Haha… It’s not a tourist attraction, right?”

If he was a tourist attraction, Hori better drop the location right now. Please. For research purposes or whatever.

「燈矢」

「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “Touya.”

「今後の話をしに来たんだ燈矢」

「今後 ; kongo」-> from now on 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk, conversation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しに来た ; shi ni kita」-> came to do sth 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “I came to talk about the future, Touya.”

Kongo literally means “after now” or in other words, the future.

「俺はヒーローを引退するよ」

「俺 ; ore」-> I 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「引退する ; intai suru」-> to retire 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “I am retiring from being a Hero.”

He says as though he has a choice. This is also one of those “This could’ve been an email” kinds of lines.

「元より戦いが終わったらそうするつもりだったが最早自力で立つことすらままならん」

「元より ; moto yori」-> all along; from the first 「戦い ; tatakai」-> war 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「終わったら ; owattara」-> when it ended 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「する ; suru」-> to do 「つもり ; tsumori」-> to plan 「だった ; datta」-> was 「が ; ga」-> but 「最早 ; mohaya」-> already; no longer 「自力 ; jiriki」-> one’s own strength 「で ; de」-> with 「立つ ; tatsu」-> to stand 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「すら ; sura」-> even 「ままならん ; mama naran」-> beyond one’s control; unable to do as one wishes

= “Since after the first war ended, I decided to do so, but I not I am not even able to stand on my own anymore.”

Mamanaru combines the words mama “as it is; as one likes” and naranai “to be unable to” to create a word that describes that something is beyond one’s control, one is unable to do as they wish or something is not going the way one wants it to. In other words, a great word to sum up Endeavor’s entire life story.

The way he continuously takes over conversations that are supposed to be about the entire family - aka his victims - and makes it about himself while pitying himself - in front of his victims - never fails to impress me. At least he is consistent I guess, but it would have been great to see him actually change in the end. Surely he is done, oh no, nevermind, he keeps talking-

「ヒーローエンデヴァーは焼かれて死んだ

おまえの炎は誰よりも強かった」

「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavo 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「焼かれて ; yakarete」-> burned 「死んだ ; shinda」-> died 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flame 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「よりも ; yorimo」-> more than 「強かった ; tsuyokatta」-> was strong

= “The hero Endeavor was burned and died. Your flames were stronger than anyone else’s.”

「そっか　ご愁傷様　事が済んでから諂うなよ…卑怯者…」

「そっか ; sokka」-> I see 「ご愁傷様 ; goshuushousama」-> my condolences 「事 ; koto」-> things; matter 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「済んでから」-> after it ended (済む + てから) 「諂う ; hetsurau」-> to flatter; to suck up to; to carry favour 「な ; na」-> na (negative command form) 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「卑怯者 ; hikyoumono」-> coward

= “I see. My condolences. Don’t suck up to me after it’s over… coward…”

Here is my beef with the official translation: they keep making Touya say the most random words and phrases, but then don’t make him say “don’t curry favour”?? “Don’t be toady”?? “Don’t be toady, Todoroki” would go so hard… wait… you know what… Here’s a little extra from me to you:

Back to business:

「そうだな　燈矢は誰のことをよくわかってる　ずっと見てたんだもんな」

「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だ ; da」-> be 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「よく ; yoku」-> well 「わかってる ; wakatteru」-> to understand 「ずっと ; zutto」-> continuously 「見てた ; miteta」-> was watching 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “That’s right, isn’t it. You know everyone so well. Because you have been watching continuously.”

「俺に見てほしかったんだもんな

なのに見なかった…」

「俺 ; ore」-> I 「に ; ni」-> at 「見てほしかった ; mitehoshikatta」-> wanted me to look 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「なのに ; nanoni」-> and yet; despite that 「見なかった ; minakatta」-> didn’t look

= “You wanted me to look, right? Despite that I didn’t look…”

If I didn’t know any better I would say this was a conversation with a toddler. I usually like to point out that Horikoshi really nails the sibling experience, but he is also, unfortunately, really good at accurately writing how privileged middle-aged men talk. A mangaka of many talents, but at what cost?

「俺はお父さんの子どもなんだから」

「俺 ; ore」-> I 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「子ども ; kodomo」-> child 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Because I am dad’s child.”

「おまえはエンデヴァーじゃない！！」

「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavor 「じゃない ; janai」-> isn’t

= ”You aren’t Endeavor!!”

Yes. That’s why we love him.

「誰が何と言おうと........　おまえの炎（ねつ）は俺のヘルフレイムだ

あの告発映像を毎日見続けている」

「誰 ; dare」-> someone 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「何と ; nanto」-> what 「言うと ; iou to」-> to try to say 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flames 「ねつ ; netsu」-> heat; rage; mania 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「ヘルフレイム ; herufureimu」-> Hell Flame 「だ ; da」-> be 「あの ; ano」-> that 「告発 ; kokuhatsu」-> complaint; prosecution 「映像 ; eizou」-> footage 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「見続けている ; mitsuzuketeiru」-> continue to watch

= “Whatever people try to say… Your flames (rage) are my Hellflame. I’ve continuously watched your prosecution video every day.”

This wouldn’t be a translation breakdown if we didn’t have a case of the furigana don’t match the kanji! Essentially what this means is that the furigana - written in brackets - show what the character says out loud, while the kanji shows what the character means. This time, when we get the kanji for flames in the second sentence, the furigana read netsu, which can meat “heat”, but also refer to “rage” or “mania” and since flames are hot, “heat” wouldn’t make it necessary to opt for a different reading, hence Endeavor is saying that the rage of Dabi was, in fact, Endeavor’s Hellflame.

「おどお゙さん見で」

「おどお゙さん ; odoosan」-> dad 「見で ; mide」-> look

= “Dad, look”

You might notice that the words are spelled differently from the normal otousan and mite. Softening the t sounds to a d sound highlights the difficulties he has speaking while being on fire. In addition to the softened t to d, the u also gets changed into an o with dakuten (the two lines on top), which only exist for the sounds that can become softer (t->d, h->b, k->g, s->j), which can’t be done to a vowel like o. In this case, the dakuten suggests that the o is said with emotion and somehow stands out from how it would be said normally.

「これからー」

「これから ; korekara」-> from now on

= “From now on-”

「毎日来る　話をしよう」

「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「来る ; kuru 」-> to come 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk; conversation; chat 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しよう ; shiyou」-> let’s do/have

= “I will come every day. Let’s talk.”

「あまりに遅すぎたけれど話そう」

「あまりに; amari ni」-> too much; overly 「遅すぎた ; ososugita」-> was too late 「けれど ; keredo」-> however 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “I was much too late, but let’s talk.”

Both amari ni and adding -sugiru to the stem of a verb can be translated as “too much” and in combination place an additional emphasis on the verb, in this case, being late, which could be referencing anything from the specific instances he showed up to too late (i.e. when Touya set himself on fire on Sekoto Peak) or in a more general sense him trying to show up as a father too late (the only example would be showing up in the hospital here and the fact he has retired and plans on protecting the family from facing any consequences for all of this, although even that is still more the bare minimum of making up for his mistakes rather than being a father but I doubt he understands the difference).

「心拍��上昇これ以上は負担が」

「心拍数 ; shinpakusuu」-> heart rate 「上昇 ; joushou」-> rising; ascending 「これ以上 ; kore ijou」 - > any more; any further; any longer 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「負担 ; futan」-> burden, load 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle

= “His heart rate is rising. Any more will (be) a burden.”

The ga would normally be followed by a verb (in this case most likely kakaru = to put), but is being omitted here as the meaning can be understood regardless.

「冷　夏雄　冬美　焦凍が…　残してくれた時間で話そう」

「冷 ; rei」-> Rei 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「残してくれた」-> reserved for us (残す+くれる) 「時間 ; jikan」-> time 「で ; de」-> with 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “Rei, Natsuo, Fuyum. Let’s talk with the time Shouto reserved for us.

Adding -tekureta after nokosu implies that someone did a favor for the speaker. Here, it means that Shouto reserved the time to talk to Touya for them.

「憎いなら…憎いと　なんでもいい　ぶつけてくれ…！」

「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「なら ; nara」-> if 「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「と ; to」-> speech particle 「なんでもいい ; nandemo ii」-> anything is fine; it doesn’t matter what 「ぶつけてくれ ; butsuketekure」-> throw it at me

= “If you hate me… hate me. Anything is fine, throw it at me…!!”

「燈矢兄私も…！」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「私 ; watashi」-> I 「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “Touya-nii, me too…!”

「話したい事たくさんあるの」

「話したい ; hanashitai」-> want to talk 「事 ; koto」-> things 「たくさん ; takusan」-> a lot 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “There are a lot of things I want to talk about.”

This is about him getting piercings and dying his hair isn’t it. Maybe even taking off his shirt on live TV in front of the entire country. If only we could see that conversation…

「今日は止めにしましょう！！また明日にでも…」

「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「止めにしましょう , yame ni shimashou」-> let’s stop 「また ; mata」-> again 「明日 ; asu」-> tomorrow 「に ; ni」-> at 「でも ; demo」-> or something

= “Let’s stop for today!! (You can come back) tomorrow or something…”

「最後に一ついいですか　聞きたかったことあるんだ」

「最後 ; saigo」-> final 「に ; ni」-> at 「一つ ; hitotsu」-> one 「いい ; ii」-> good 「です ; desu」-> to be 「か ; ka」-> question marker particle 「聞きたかった」-> wanted to ask 「こと ; koto」-> thing 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle

= “Can I (ask) one last thing? Because there is one thing I wanted to ask.”

The first panel or first sentence ends in the polite form using desu ka as he is asking the employee for permission to ask one more question. The second panel or sentence, on the other hand, is casual as it ends in da, so without even waiting to receive an answer from the employee, he instantly goes to directly address Touya-nii for this extremely important question.

「燈矢兄　好きな食べ物何？」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「好きな ; suki」-> to like 「食べ物 ; tabemono」-> food 「何 ; nani」-> what

= “Touya-nii. What’s your favorite food?”

Everybody liked that. It was really great when the spoilers came out and as soon as Shouto said he wanted to ask Touya something everyone instantly knew what the question was going to be. Also a lot of pressure for Touya. Wrong answer and his little brother can pull the plug.

「......体力の限界ですね今日は眠らせてまた…」

「体力 ; tairyoku」-> stamina; endurance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「眠らせて ; nemurasete」-> to let someone sleep 「また ; mata」-> again

= “This is the limit, isn’t it. Let’s let him sleep again for today.”

「蕎麦」

「蕎麦 ; soba」-> soba

= “Soba.”

These lines are always my favorite to break down. It’s not easy translating such complex phrases so please recognize the years of studying it took to be able to perfectly translate this kind of high-level sentence. Thank you.

I can only imagine him going back to his classmates, looking at Bakugo and saying: “You were wrong. It’s soba.”

「おんなじだ」

「おんなじ ; onnaji」-> same 「だ ; da」-> be

= “It’s the same.”

Usually, the word same is written as 同じ and read as onaji. In itself, these two spellings have the same meaning, however, the more standard onaji would be used in the sense of something or a situation being exactly the same, for example attending the same school as someone or facing the same problem. Onnaji, on the other hand, indicates something has very similar properties and is used more in the sense of the same color, taste etc, which is why this spelling has a bit more emotion associated with it.

So Shouto is saying that it’s the same, but he says so with emotion. Rather than stating a fact, them having the same food holds meaning to him.

「これ以上は平行線だ　交わるよ　無理にでも」

「これ以上 ; kore ijou」-> from here on; any further 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「平行線 ; heikousen」-> remaining far apart; not reaching an agreement 「だ ; da」-> be 「交わる ; majiwaru」-> to cross; to mingle with 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「無理に ; muri ni」-> forcible; forced 「でも ; demo」-> even

= “From here on it’s parallel lines. I will cross, even if by force.”

「焦凍…　ごめんな…」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「ごめん ; gomen」-> I‘m sorry 「な ; na」-> used to say something emotionally

= “Shouto… I’m sorry…”

If only… Shouto had heard this… and they could’ve talked about this… that would be crazy, right? No, why don’t we focus on the main character again, instead of getting a conversation the entire story has been building up to.

「俺はここまでだわ　悪いけど気持ち変わんない　俺はもう付き合わない」

「俺 ; ore」-> I 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ここ ; koko」-> here 「まで ; made」-> until 「だ ; da」-> be 「わ ; wa」-> 「悪い ; warui」-> sorry 「けど ; kedo」-> but 「気持ち ; kimochi」-> feelings 「変わんない ; kawannai」-> unchanged 「俺 ; ore」-> I 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「もう ; mou」-> already 「付き合わない ; tsukiawanai」-> don’t associate with

= “For me it’s (ending) here. I’m sorry, but my feelings haven’t changed. I won’t associate with you anymore.”

The particle wa is used when reflecting one’s view toward a situation after coming to a conclusion. There is a nuance of confidently affirming the phrase or regretting the situation, depending on the tone, which we don’t have here, but this reads more as a confident statement than one of regret, although it might just be a little bit of both.

「ああ」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah

= “Ah.”

「彼女と籍入れたい　式は挙げない紹介もしない」

「彼女 ; kanojo」-> girlfriend 「と ; to」-> with 「籍入れたい ; seki iretai」-> to get married; to want to have a name entered in the family register 「式 ; shiki」-> (wedding) ceremony 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「挙げない ; agenai」-> to conduct 「紹介 ; shoukai」-> introduction 「も ; mo」-> also 「しない ; shinai」-> won’t do

= “I want to enter the family register with my girlfriend. We won’t conduct a ceremony and I also won’t introduce you.”

Normally, to talk about marriage or getting married you would use the word kekkon (suru). Here, Natsuo specifically uses the term “to enter in the family registry.” While these two words can be used to mean the same thing (= getting married), entering the family registry differs in that one person enters an already existing family registry rather than creating a new one upon marriage, which is why this can also be used for when a child gets adopted by a step-parent or if a child takes on their other parent’s last name after a divorce.

Again, this can just be treated as a synonym for getting married, but it might also be to emphasize this as an act of removing himself from his father rather than an act of love. It surely feels like an odd time to be thinking of marriage, with the current situation not having him in the right mental or emotional state for such a big step to be smart (he already did the whole “cutting my hair during a crisis” so he should follow that with dying his hair or something else that is going to affect his life less than marriage).

Let’s face it: had he said this while they were with Touya, his big bro’s heart monitor would have gone crazy before he would have broken out of that machine to talk some sense into his little brother.

Also, not to insult Natsuo because he is very sweet, but I just have to mention the irony of him getting married as a means to solve his issues when that was also his dad’s first step. It’s obviously different, but still worth pointing out.

「ああ…分かったな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「分かった ; wakatta」-> understood 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “Ah, I get it.”

「姉ちゃんは？仕事やめたんだろ？」

「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sister 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「仕事 ; shigoto」-> job 「やめた ; yameta」-> to quit 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> right

= “What about you, big sis? You left your job, right?”

I do like the symbolism of him standing in the middle of the street, ready to use the crosswalk, while the rest of the family remain on the side of the road, but I am also worried he is going to get hit by a car.

「うんでも　生徒のお母さんが新しい職場紹介してくれてねサポートしてくれるって」

「うん ; un」-> yeah 「でも ; demo」-> but 「生徒 ; seito」-> student 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「新しい ; atarashii」-> new 「職場 ; shokuba」-> workplace 「紹介してくれて ; shoukai shitekurete」-> introduced me (as a favor) 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「サポートしてくれる ; sapooto shitekureru」-> support (as a favor) 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of という)

= “Yeah, but the mom of a student introduced me to a new workplace. So she’s being supportive.”

Similar to before, the -tekurete suggests that this introduction as well as the support is seen as a favor.

「........正直責任は果たしたと思う　罰も受けたと思う…もういいんじゃねーの？」

「正直 ; shoujiki」-> honestly; frankly 「責任 ; sekinin」-> duty 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「果たした ; hatashita」-> accomplished; carried out 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「罰 ; batsu」-> punishment 「も ; mo」-> too 「受けた ; uketa」-> received 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「もういい ; mou ii」-> that’s enough 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねー ; janee」-> isn’t 「のか ; noka-> question marker particle seeking an explanation

= “Frankly, I think we’ve fulfilled our responsibilities. I think we already received our punishment. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

This line has gotten some negative attention as fan translations have this line directed toward Endeavor, whereas the official English translation has this line be directed toward the entire family. As you can see in the breakdown above, there is no explicit human subject in this sentence to clarify who is being addressed here, in addition to the fact that he has his back turned to us readers with no indication as to who he is looking at.

However, the last person he directly addressed was Fuyumi, who was also the one speaking right before this line. Furthermore, the next line is Endeavor saying that he will ensure to take the blame and whatnot from here on out so that they do not need to face any more consequences for this.

With that being said, to me this reads as him talking to the family, specifically as a response to Fuyumi suggesting that her former student’s mother introducing her to a new workplace and supporting her is somewhat of a favor. While we don’t know exactly why she left her job, there is still a suggestion that this situation has impacted her negatively and that people showing support is somehow worth noting. And yes, Japan has a culture of blaming the entire family when a family member commits a crime, however, Natsuo’s line then seems somewhat frustrated at this, feeling as though they all already faced consequences (like Fuyumi leaving her job), and that they shouldn’t have to face consequences for the rest of their lives, let alone feel overly grateful for any person that still treats them as individuals rather than an accomplice for something they had nothing to do with.

Overall, this line reads more like he wants them to be able to move past this, rather than have this now haunt them after they have already been struggling their whole lives by growing up in the Todoroki household.

「犯した罪の賠償と謝罪を一生をかけて続けていく

見ていなくていい子どもたち（おまえたち）に降りかかる火の粉をできる限り俺が受け止める　生き延びた意味があるとすればそれだけなんだ」

「犯した ; okashita」-> committed 「罪 ; tsumi」-> crime; sin 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「賠償 ; baishou」-> compensation; reparations 「と ; to」-> with 「謝罪 ; shazai」-> apology 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「一生 ; issho」-> whole life 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「かけて ; kakete」-> make; put out 「続けていく ; tsuzuketeiku 」->to continue from now on (続ける+いく) 「見ていなくて ; mitenakute」-> not looking 「いい ; ii」-> good; okay 「子どもたち ; kodomotachi」-> children 「おまえたち ; omaetachi」-> you (plural) 「に ; ni」-> to 「降りかかる ; furikakaru」-> to happen; to befall 「火の粉 ; hi no ko」-> sparks 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「できる ; dekiru」-> to be able to 「限り ; kagiri」-> limit; degree 「俺 ; ore」-> I 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「受け止める ; uketomeru」-> to catch; to stop the blow 「生き延びた ; ikinobita」-> survived; lived long 「意味 ; imi」-> meaning 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「ある ; aru」-> to exist 「とすれば ; to sureba」-> then; if so; if 「それだけ ; soredake」-> that much; to that extent; only that 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle

= “From here on out I will continue to make reparations and apologize for my committed crimes for my whole life. I will catch as much of the sparks that fall on you kids who don’t have to watch. If there is any meaning in my survival, it is just that.”

Again, he says “you” but means “children”. The miteinakute ii is used to say that “it’s okay not to watch”, in other words he does not expect them to keep in touch with him or anything along those lines.

The -teiku after tsuzukeru is used to imply that something will continue from this moment forward. While he didn't make up for his mistakes, from now on he will.

「........地獄だぞ」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell 「だ ; da」-> be 「ぞ ; zo」-> emphasizes the speaker’s will or opinion; can be inviting to the listener

= “........It’s hell.”

「ああダンスの誘いを受けたんでな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「ダンス ; dansu」-> dance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「誘い ; sasoi」-> invitation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「受けた ; uketa」-> to accept 「んでな ; ndena」-> explanatory particle

= “Ah, I did accept the dance invitation.”

「…初めてだよ　お父さんの事　かっこいいって思えたの」

「初めて ; hajimete」-> first time 「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「事 ; koto」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「かっこいい ; kakkoii」-> cool 「って思えた ; tte omoeta」-> to seem; to appear 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “It was the first time that you seemed cool.”

Natsuo has called Endeavor by many (disrespectful) names. This is the first time he calls him by the standard/polite term for father. This is not to say that he likes him now. With the whole marriage talk in mind, this feels more like him letting go of his feelings for a second to make a somewhat neutral statement. Neutral in the sense of being able to recognize and view something his dad has done in a positive light rather than letting his feelings completely take over his judgment.

「焦凍は？学校戻るんだろ？」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「学校 ; gakkou」-> school 「戻る ; modoru」-> to return to 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> I think; right?

= “What about you, Shouto? You’re returning to school, right?”

「うん」

「うん ; un」-> yeah

= “Yeah.”

「乗ってけよ姉ちゃんも」　

「乗ってけ ; notteke」-> I’ll give you a ride 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sis 「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “I’ll give you a ride. Nee-chan, too.”

「ありがとう」

「ありがとう ; arigatou」-> thanks

= “Thanks.”

「親父　お母さん　俺にはA組（みんな）いるから大丈夫だよ！　俺は自分でなりてえようになれるから！」

「親父 ; oyaji」-> dad 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「俺 ; ore」-> I 「には ; niwa」-> as for 「A組 ; e gumi」-> class A 「みんな ; minna」-> everyone 「いる ; iru」-> to be 「から ; kara」-> therefore 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright 「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「自分 ; jibun」-> myself 「で ; de」-> with 「なりてえ ; naritee」-> want to become (casual of naritai) 「ようになれる ; you ni nareru」-> to reach the point where; to come to; to begin to 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Dad, mom. I’ll be okay because of Class A (everyone). I can reach the point of being what I want to be!”

Just like before we get furigana that differ from the kanji. Shouto says that he will be alright because everyone is there, but he specifically means Class A when he says that.

「地獄でも」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell 「でも ; demo」-> even though

= “Even though it’s hell.”

「おーう早かったな！！大丈夫だったかあ！？」

「おーう ; ou」-> Ooh 「早かった ; hayakatta」-> early 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright 「だった ; datta」-> was 「かあ ; kaa」-> question marker particle

= “Oh, you’re early! Was it alright!?”

「おなかすいた」

「おなかすいた ; onaka suita」-> I’m starving

= “I’m starving.”

「見てる人がいる」

「見てる ; miteru」-> looking 「人 ; hito」-> person 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「いる ; iru」-> to be

= “There is someone who is watching.”

Me. I’m the one watching. But at what cost? The family’s two most used words have got to be “hell” and “to look” . Someone please teach them some more words.

That concludes the Todoroki family interaction in this chapter and supposedly for the story (everyone disliked that). Personally, this does not read as a conclusion so I am going to just treat this as the beginning of the conclusion, instead. And perhaps the final in the sense of the whole family not getting together anymore because Natsuo isn’t going to be around Endeavor anymore.

Personally, my biggest issue with this chapter is the fact that while it’s called final and set up as though the family and we finally get closure by everyone reuniting with Touya, it’s just another episode of self-pitying with a grown-ass man that has still not changed or understood anything despite everything. Yes, he finally managed to talk to Touya, to apologize and acknowledge both Touya’s pain as well as his own accountability in the entire affair. However, the rest of the family could have been left out of this chapter entirely since they said nothing other than “we have lots to talk about” which is obviously a beginning, but I’m sure we all have been waiting patiently to get an actual conversation not just hear them say that they want to talk at a later point, which we then won't ever get to see.

The soba part is amazing, of course, but it could and should have played a bigger role in this chapter.

People have been expressing various opinions in regards to the family’s current situation and their future, though - again - it would be great to see more of that because this chapter only briefly touched on various interesting points and then didn’t explore these points more because if there is one thing this world needs more is privileged people whining about how hard their life is and the many sacrifices they have had to make (= barely facing consequences).

That being said, we’ll see what the final 4 chapters will offer and whether we will see the Todoroki family make another appearance.

And no, Touya won’t die.

#todoroki #bnha #dabi #touya #shouto #mha #426 #translation #meta #mine #japanese #time to sleep

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yoonieper · 2 months

Text

For the Birds— Part 2 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers~

♡ Rated: L for Loathe

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Y/n and Jk tension, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), mentions of Jungkook getting reealllyyyy drunk, <— throws up 😬, Jimin is best boy and the bestest friend but my man is ready to throw hands…

♡ Word Count: 11.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Honsool by Agust D— see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter is the calm before the storm, but we ain’t slowing down at all for part 3 >:) ~ Y’all can thank Smoke Sprite for this hehehe (it just came out when I wrote this)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Seven months later…

Knowing what you know now, you felt bad that there was ever a phase in your life when you hated Jeon Jungkook. Hate was a strong word, you know that now, and you knew it back then too; but it was always the first word that would pop into your head whenever you’d think about the man.

Ever since your first day at Golden Tech, he made your life working at the company an actual living hell. You loved your job, and you were dedicated to it a hundred percent. You had worked way too hard to get where you were to slack around. You were living your dream— you were still young, working a stable, well-paying job at a high-end tech company, you had great coworkers for the most part… There was nothing to complain about besides the person who supervised your department.

That’s what made it so frustrating.

And to make matters worse, it was probably for the dumbest of reasons. Sure, no one wants coffee spilled on them, you would have gotten a little mad if you were in that situation; but there was no need to make someone’s life miserable because of a simple mistake— for years.

It’s not like you purposefully ran into him. You both had just turned the corner at the same time and bonked into each other. It happens. Some of your coworkers said you should have gone to his office later and begged for his forgiveness, but you thought that was ridiculous because it had just been an accident. A simple, unintentional mischance that could have happened to anyone.

It’s also not like you didn’t try to apologize— you both ran into each other the very next day, and as soon as you saw him, you hurried to catch up to him to tell him how sorry you were; you even offered to pay to get his suit cleaned or replaced. Jeon Jungkook hardly paid you any attention as he said it was fine and walked away with his posse of executives following him. It was strange, but you hoped that it just meant that your first meeting was water under the bridge and things would be fine. If you knew what you were in store for, you probably would have quit right on the spot, but not before you gave him one good, firm slap on your way out.

No, your ambition clouded your vision each time Director Son would give you assignments straight from the boss himself, and it was always mountains above your coworkers. You wanted to believe he saw potential in you, that maybe this was just an initiation into the office and all the newbies were given more work straight from the Head Director himself to showcase their abilities. This was just a test, you kept telling yourself for far too long, and in the end he’s going to see just how capable you are, earning his respect like everyone else did at some point. There weren’t that many people who worked on this floor in comparison to the rest of the building. All the teams were on the smaller side, so you figured this was just a tight-knit department you needed to steadily break your way into.

That’s how you kept yourself cheerful despite how it seemed like every night your workload would have you staying in the office until the wee hours of the morning trying to get everything done.

Everything changed when you weren’t the newest employee in your department anymore. Jungkook was oh so welcoming to your hoobaes and would give them slightly less work before steadily building up to the overwhelming amount everyone was eventually given. It wasn’t great, but it was lightyears ahead of what you experienced during your first few months at the company.

You kept telling yourself that there had to be a reason. You never really spoke to him, there was hardly any opportunity to piss him off; surely there was more of a reason than the incident on your first day.

The next person who joined the department after you did, you slowly began to notice the difference from your initial few months, and at first you had tried to come up with this whole theory in your head that maybe he was flirting with the newest member of the team. She was pretty and a lot of the guys around the office talked about her. You figured your boss might be like them, just another man trying to get into her pants, and for some reason easing her workload was his way of flirting.

That theory quickly died when Taehyung told you he was married despite you both apparently being the same age. Then Hoseok started working at the company and was given the same special treatment as her. Jungkook was seemingly nice and welcoming to everyone else but you.

That’s where your… annoyance, turned into hatred, because at the end of the day, you knew this was all simply because you had ACCIDENTALLY SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER HIS STUPID, EXPENSIVE ASS SUIT (you checked when you got home how much it would cost you to replace it. If he would have taken you up on your offer, it would have had you living on ramen alone for months) AND HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE BECAUSE OF IT.

And maybe, just MAYBE, if that was the only suit he owned, you would have understood his pettiness a little better. You have this one nice dress you splurged on when you found out you’d gotten an interview for Golden Tech, and if someone had messed it up, it would have taken a lot more than an “I’m sorry” for you to fully get over it. But every day your coworkers would talk about how expensive his suits were, all belonging to brand names guys around the office knew about and would rave over. They would stand around sighing about how handsome he looked and how they felt like they needed to pay him just for gazing upon his presence.

It was a little dramatic, and even though Jungkook was never around to hear it, you always thought it was just another way to kiss his ass a little harder, vaguely hoping for the chance he would hear and reward them for their willingness to bend over backwards for him.

But that’s besides the point. One thing was clear from their words: Jungkook had money, and a lot of it, there was absolutely no valid reason for him to be that upset at you.

So you despised him.

You hated Jungkook longer than anyone at the office did. At first, they just seemed confused whenever you would rant your troubles to them— saying things like, “he normally wasn’t like this.” But as months turned to years, Jungkook’s pettiness began spreading to all the employees who worked under him. You couldn’t say he was the best boss in the world when you first started working at the company, but as the days passed, he seemed to get that much more rigid, cold, and reclusive.

It probably hadn’t even been a full year after you started working at Golden Tech, when all the employees joined you in complaining about how annoying he was to work for.

You used to see him all the time walking around the office doing this or that, but later on, you only saw him arrive but never leave. There were many instances in which almost everyone on the floor was given so much work, that you’d all have to stay past your normal hours; way too many times than anything reasonable. All he ever did was work, work, and work, making sure everyone was going above and beyond their job description. It was excessive, so much so that some people in your department ended up leaving because their job was interfering with their personal lives too much.

To make matters worse, everyone was always on edge. There were rumors that some of the people who were fired over the years were let go because they weren’t able to keep up with his outrageous demands. Some of your coworkers said that they left his office in tears because he basically belittled them to the ground, calling them worthless, and many other unspeakable things. It was awful. You never knew if this was actually true or not, no one really did, but it kept everyone on edge to the point that the mysterious Jeon Jungkook was feared amongst most. But it didn’t really matter to you.

You used to think you had a good understanding of him. All your coworkers who were brought into the department before you would always say he was this bright-eyed, sweet, eager to please kid who everyone had high hopes for. Jungkook had never shown any of this during the time since you’d been working here, so you honestly doubted their assurances.

According to you, ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sweet’ couldn’t even exist in the same sentence.

Jeon Jungkook was just a spoiled, rich kid who had no real interest in Golden Tech. He seemed to have no idea how to be a boss, was a sadistic asshole who got off on making people miserable, and was just there, waiting until the CEO position was handed off to him just because of who his daddy was— which you were sure would result in the crash and burn of the whole company.

A few months ago, he literally just didn’t show up to work for a week without any sort of notice. This left your department scrambling because important deadlines were coming up. When Friday rolled around the next week and he still wasn’t back, people kept asking where he was because certain things couldn’t get done without him at the office. He was basically MIA, no one was able to contact him.

Jimin had emailed everyone later that day because the complaints grew too loud. Jungkook apparently had been diagnosed with pneumonia earlier that day and wouldn’t be in for a while. An excuse, for sure, but that didn’t explain where he’d been for the last week. Maybe he was off vacationing in one of the many homes his family owned around the world, while your team was left scrambling during his absence.

But it seemed as though you were the only one who harbored any real hatred for him.

Many girls around the office would still fawn over his handsome face, making you roll your eyes every time, because all they needed was one glance their way and they were squealing like schoolgirls. Was that really all it took for everyone to forget how awful he was? You didn’t get it, not even one bit.

Even your friend was somehow pulled into the allure. When you’d pass by him in meetings, despite Solmi oftentimes being the listening ear to your rants about how impertinent you thought Jeon Jungkook was, she would still sometimes gaze at him sympathetically; it was something everyone around the office occasionally did.

“Something’s just off.”

“He wasn’t like this before, he was such a sweet kid.”

“Maybe it’s just stress?”

They would always have an explanation ready. You never understood why, but you weren’t working there yet when he was still “nice,” and they also weren’t on the receiving end of his pettiness directly.

Someone might laugh at the fact that you were still feeling the effects of your little incident nearly two years after it happened. But no matter how hard you worked, how many times you tried to apologize, nothing you did was ever enough to make him forgive you. So you opted to hate him, and you used that hate to fuel your ambition even further.

In some strange way, Jungkook’s pettiness ended up helping you in the long run. All that hard work you put in made the other executives notice you. Due to your previous experience at another big tech provider, you were quickly promoted to be the manager of one of the finance teams when the position became available.

That just helped open even more doors for you. It was only a few weeks after celebrating your second year at the company (October 6th, 2023, a little over 24 months after you were hired— not that you were bragging or anything), when Director Son informed you about the promotion. The associate director position became available due to her retiring; apparently, even while being relatively new in comparison to the other managers and on the younger side, they still believed you would be the best one to take over the position.

Of course you took it. You were only twenty-six and now the Associate Director of the financial team for the Seoul division at a trillion won tech company that was led by the CEO’s son. Again, not like you were bragging, but your resume was insane.

As nice as the high was, this… this is when everything changed.

See, some might call you strange that you hated someone so deeply when you barely even knew them. You honestly had no clue about him, you hardly ever saw the man besides during the very occasional meetings; but most of the time, he only met up with Director Son and the old associate director to get updates. You could probably use your fingers to count how many times you both have spoken to each other. Any time you’d normally communicate would only be over email, and it didn’t help how much he was in his office. The only things you really knew about Jungkook were that you both were the same age, that he was the CEO’s son, and supposedly, that he was married.

That's what most people knew about him, and of course there were probably tabloids out there if you ever wanted to learn more, but you never found the need to know anything else other than the basics.

That’s why when Jungkook called you into his office after your promotion, you were in for a rude awakening on the fact that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

The meeting itself wasn’t that eventful. Jungkook just wanted to elaborate more on your new role as an associate director and inform you about your new duties on the projects your team was currently working on. However, you ended up feeling differently than expected.

You’d spent the whole morning preparing for your first meeting with him. You had coached yourself the day before on how to approach it— you weren’t planning to be rude, but maybe a bit passive-aggressive; just enough to set a boundary to be taken seriously and establish yourself as a professional, not just some pushover.

You’d picked out your best ‘bad bitch’ outfit the night before— not for him— but to give yourself the extra confidence you needed to stand up to the person who’s been the bane of your existence for the past two years. You wore a tight, black dress with gold buttons detailing all the way down the front. It was probably the nicest thing in your closet besides the dress you bought for your interview. You paired it off with matching gold accessories and black stilettos with a cute gold heel. You couldn’t tell someone how long you spent working on your hair and makeup this morning trying to get that last level of perfection.

It was all worth it though. When you arrived at the office that day, you held your head high as you made your way to your desk. A smile was plastered on your face as your heels clicked through the halls. Your coworkers were staring and whispering while you walked past them, the attention making your heart swell, because at the end of the day, you knew they were only saying good things.

It gave you a nice confidence boost, but as the time ticked away, it was obvious to your friends you weren’t as composed as you wanted them to believe. As the time of the meeting approached, Taehyung and Solmi tried their best to calm you down as you rehearsed what you thought would happen later.

“Grrr, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I hereby bestow you this mountain load of paperwork.” Solmi said dramatically, as she shook a piece of paper in front of your face before setting it down gracefully on your desk.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll take care of these, Director Jeon. And as the new associate director, I hope we can establish a more compassionate relationship.” When you finished, you eagerly looked up at your two friends.

“Yeah, she’s going to get eaten alive.” Taehyung sighed, concern filled his eyes the longer he stared at you. Solmi shared the same worried look.

“Calm down guys, I think I got this.” You smiled as you turned to your computer and saw the time. There was only an hour left.

“Y/n, we’ll wait for you as close as we can. Scream if he tries to eat you.” Solmi said as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

You looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to grow more worried by the second.

“I’ll be fine. If anything, he should be more scared that I’ll eat him first.” You laughed a little too hard, but seeing the look on Solmi’s face made you realize that might not have been the best way to phrase it.

No matter the amount of smiles or jokes you shared with your friends, nothing could stop the anxiety from creeping in, it just made you even more terrified of what might happen later. You were worried if you’d even walk out of it still having a job (let’s just say you had a lot you wanted to say to him, but one wrong move would be enough for you to derail from your well-rehearsed script and finally spill that can of worms full of deep seeded anger).

When the time finally arrived, Secretary Yu told you Director Jeon was in a meeting and that you could have a seat in his office for the time being. You bowed at her words, but on your way in you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because of course he was late. You were so busy cursing him out in your head, it didn’t even register that you were in his office for the first time until the door closed behind you.

You were shocked to find you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair like what you had expected. His office was relatively modern, with lots of black furniture— it was sleek and expensive like everything he owned. There were a couple of plants sitting around that added a nice splice of greenery. His office also had a big window with a nice view to the right that overlooked the city. However, what you were most surprised to find were all the family photos sprinkled around the place.

There were some that sat on his desk but your eyes were immediately drawn to the three big pictures on the wall beside you as you came in.

The one that sat right in the middle you were sure was a family photo of the Jeon family. You recognized the CEO sitting on a chair that almost looked like a throne. There was also a small, slightly older, beautiful woman who was dazzlingly dressed sitting on a stool next to him, holding his hand, and two boys stood behind them. One you instantly recognized as Jungkook, only a little younger— maybe college-aged, and standing right behind him was a man who looked like he could have been his twin. He stood maybe a few centimeters taller and shared the same face, except he had a few more of his mom’s features, his sharp eyes for example. You had to assume it was the brother you heard your coworkers talk about from time to time. On the other hand, Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of the CEO, only decades younger.

What you paid the most attention to was their smiles. Everyone in the picture looked so happy, all big smiles that seemed to resemble the CEO’s. It felt almost strange seeing how happy Jungkook looked in the picture. You honestly thought he was incapable of smiling.

It was like a whole different guy was in the picture.

When you looked at the photo that sat on the right, closest to where you stood, you were greeted by a very cinematic shot of Jungkook and who you could only assume was his wife on their wedding day. He had lifted her by her waist and they were lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, again with big smiles plastered on their faces. Jungkook didn’t look too much older than he did in the first picture, and his wife also couldn’t have been much younger than him. It made you wonder how long they had been together. As far as you knew, he was married even before you started working for Golden Tech. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, but just based on the picture, he definitely looked younger than that.

They must have really loved each other… You couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone years ago.

But everyone had been right, she really was pretty. How was he married? You couldn’t help but wonder how his wife was able to put up with his pretentious ass. You could barely deal with him and you hardly knew the man.

You felt for her in that moment.

Furthest from you was a picture you could barely see, but it looked like another picture from their wedding day. Jungkook and his wife in her gorgeous dress were sitting down on a fancy ottoman and a bunch of other people stood around them. Some you could recognize from the Jeon family portrait, so you just assumed all the others must be his wife’s family.

Again, seeing how happy he was in the picture was a little uncanny. There was no way that was the same man who made your life at work so miserable.

Looking at the photos only became more unsettling when the door was bursting open and you were suddenly faced with the actual, present-day Jeon Jungkook. Your eyes immediately snapped onto his, your mind went blank as you tried to process the fact that he was standing there right in front of you. He was stuck in place, he seemed just as surprised to see you in the way his startled expression turned into shock and his wide eyes peered over you. You barely registered the fact that Jimin was standing behind him, too busy trying to calm yourself from a near heart attack.

It was suddenly so obvious why Jungkook didn’t seem like the same person in the pictures you had just seen. He looked different. It wasn’t only the fact that he looked a little older, but his eyes…

He looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept well in months. The dark circles around his eyes deprived him of that same cheery persona he put on for the camera. And maybe this was just you reading into it too much, but you couldn’t help but think he also just seemed… dismal? It was strange, but if you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you would have advised him to take a nap before starting your meeting.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also visibly thinner. Like you could still see a bit of definition as he moved underneath his expensive suit jacket, but his slimmer frame didn’t seem to help and only made him look even more tired.

Your coworkers might have been right; maybe it really was the stress. How hadn’t you ever noticed this before? Had he always looked like this but you just never realized?

“Uh, sorry we’re late. We were stuck in a meeting that went on longer than expected.” Jimin suddenly said, finally breaking the silence and making you snap out of your daze.

It was only then that you realized you had practically been staring down Jungkook. To be fair, you had never seen him this up close before, at least not close enough to actually look at him.

You quickly bowed.

“I’m sorry! Secretary Yu told me to wait. I—” You panicked, realizing how strange this might look that you were just standing here right in front of the door.

Your eyes immediately locked onto Jungkook’s waiting for the annoyance to hit his features, any sign to point to the fact that you gave him another reason to hate you, but instead he just seemed dazed. Your eyes tried to follow his gaze wondering what he was staring at, and you were left a little stunned to see him looking over you.

Did he forget you were coming today? What was going on? You glanced down, worried something may have gotten on your dress earlier during lunch and he was about to criticize you for your unprofessionalism, but you were just left confused when you didn’t notice anything, and the silence continued for far too long.

“Ummm…” Jimin looked over at Jungkook when he still hadn’t said anything yet.

You shrugged, just as perplexed as he was.

When Jungkook still didn’t say anything, Jimin, like the angel he was, eventually took it upon himself to reassure you it was fine and that you had just startled them.

You bowed and apologized once again, your cheeks burned under the weight of their gaze, but Jimin just smiled and told you yet again it was fine. His comforting words and smile eased your beating heart a little more as he ushered you over to Jungkook’s desk. Not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were, you quickly made your way over to one of the cushiony chairs that sat across from the desk. The whole time you felt their eyes nearly burn a hole in your skull, your skin warmed with each step you took, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you messed this up already.

You figured Jimin must have finally managed to get Jungkook to snap out of whatever held his attention so deeply, he eventually came back into view and sat in his own fancy office chair in front of you, and Jimin chose to stand right beside him.

Jungkook awkwardly coughed once everyone got settled trying to fill the silence in the room, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swear you saw his cheeks start dusting pink as he looked at you.

This could not be the same demon you’ve worked with for two years. Jungkook could hardly meet your eyes, seemingly trying to look everywhere else but you. He looked visibly flustered and… shy? Who was this man, and what did he do with the Jungkook you thought you knew?

“I’m so sorry, I—… um, sorry we were late. It’s nice to see you Y/n.” He commented softly with a smile. No, there was no way this was the same guy.

After Jimin took a moment to congratulate you on your promotion (he told you to visit his office later for a surprise), the meeting carried on rather uneventfully in regard to your conversation. Jungkook didn’t eat you, nor did you ever need to whip out any of your passive-aggressive responses that you’d practiced. To be honest, you were only halfway paying attention to everything that was being discussed.

Your brain was far more interested in just observing him, picking apart all the little details you never had the chance to notice in the past:

He had a mole that sat just underneath his lower lip, and anytime he’d be thinking about what to say next for longer than normal, he’d bite into the flesh and then you could see the little dot right there on full display. He also had a scar on his cheek— you barely noticed it, but when the light hit his face at just the right angle, you could see the indention. Or how come you never realized that he had a slight lisp when he talked? It was slight, only making an appearance if he started rambling for a little too long; you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

It was quite obvious early on into the meeting that Jungkook was not this scary, evil monster who hid away in his spooky cave. Jungkook would speak, there were moments when Jimin would jump in to help, they easily bounced off of each other, and in between the business talk, they would sometimes joke around with one another. You hated to admit it, but you found them a little cute as you watched them interact.

However, you still noticed that when Jungkook laughed, his smile never looked like the one in any of the pictures that sat behind you. His eyes wouldn’t crinkle, his top lip wouldn’t almost disappear, and that dimple that was on his left cheek never came into view— yes, he had dimples— multiple sets apparently that you had also never noticed.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was faking it, but the one other thing you knew about Jungkook was that he and Jimin had been friends for a long time. Jimin had mentioned to you briefly during the few occasions you’ve talked that he’s known Jungkook since the younger was in elementary school; and it was clear during the meeting that they were close.

The more you looked at him, the more you grew concerned. He definitely seemed… off. It was the same feeling that you’d gotten all those years ago about your friend in high school. His eyes, you just couldn’t get over the look in his eyes. They held the same emptiness that your friend Mi-Sun’s did all those years ago. His hair had grown to almost completely shield his gaze, but you still noticed.

In the past, his hair would normally be shorter and slicked back with a fresh undercut always on display. It was a few months ago when he seemingly started to grow it out. When he walked in, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it in the way the dark strands were pushed back. Yet as the meeting continued, more and more strands would fall into his face, and he would go back to hiding his sad gaze behind his hair. It almost reminded you of the same look he had that day you spilled coffee all over his suit— even then he seemed tired and sad, but now it was so much more blatant.

It was almost immediately that your harbored hatred for Jeon Jungkook turned into genuine concern. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who’d have everyone on the floor staying overtime almost every single day.

That didn’t necessarily excuse how petty he acted over the years, you didn’t forget, but it did make you feel bad about how you let your emotions get the best of you.

The fact that Jungkook was the same age as you and managed everyone that worked on your floor— being associate director of your division’s financial team already seemed daunting— but you couldn’t even fathom the stress that came with his position.

“Y/n? Did you get all that?” Jimin asked, breaking you out of your daze.

“Yes-yes! I’m sorry.” You stammered, trying your best to recollect yourself.

“Just wanted to make sure you got everything. We covered a lot.” He laughed, but you were too focused on Jungkook shying away from your gaze— his face was definitely a little redder than before. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart ached at the sight.

You had to get out of here.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to email you if I have any questions.” You bowed your head slightly at them.

If things couldn’t get any weirder, when you looked back up at him, you noticed Jungkook was staring at you— again with those same sad eyes. It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him out for dinner, or to tell him that maybe it would be best to take the day off or something— anything to possibly help get back the cheeriness he had in the pictures behind you. But you knew you would be overstepping a boundary, and since you were so new to your position, you felt it was best to not take a chance; so, after a few more awkward goodbyes, you left his office.

“I have to get this done, he has to see that I’m—“ The door shut behind you before you could hear the rest.

Instantly you looked around for your friends, and like they promised, you found them awkwardly standing not too far away from Secretary Yu’s desk trying not to make it obvious they were waiting for you. As soon as they saw you, you knew they wanted to ask how it went, but instead you grabbed Tae by the hand and quickly walked down the hall, ignoring Solmi’s confused remarks as you sped past her.

“Taehyung.” You said alarmingly as you both walked.

“What happened? Did he start yelling at you or something?” Taehyung questioned very seriously, looking back the way you both had just come from. Apparently, you didn’t respond fast enough because he ended up stopping you both in your tracks. You looked over at him and could see the way his expression had shifted, his face was etched with concern now, and the underlying anger was not hard to pick up on.

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked far more sternly, grabbing you by the shoulder so you’d look at him. You couldn’t help but glanced down, noticing the way his other hand tightened into a fist.

“What? No— Just… What do you know about Director Jeon?” You quickly followed up with.

You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been here longer than me. What do you know about him?” You asked again, your gaze turned to worry as you looked back toward where Jungkook’s office was.

Taehyung was noticeably confused. “Why, what happened?”

You sighed. “Nothing, I mean, we just talked but… I don’t know, he just seemed so… sad. It was weird.”

“Sad?”

“You should have seen him Tae… it was like… I don’t know, he looked so tired.” You were honestly a bit worried. One minute you hated his entire existence, the next you found yourself seriously concerned for his well-being.

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

The tension quickly faded from Taehyung’s features, he let his hand rest back down at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was wondering if you knew anything.” You questioned again when he hadn’t said anything, but Taehyung eventually shook his head.

“I don’t have much to say, he’s always been a pretty quiet guy. I know nothing outside of what he does at the company, and that he’s married to that supermodel. Jimin would probably know, they hang out all the time.”

You nodded while his words processed in your head. Taehyung was probably right, Jimin was the best person to talk to. You wanted to think there was a chance at the explanation being simple, like maybe he was having a rough day or something, but that didn’t stop you from being worried.

You had a feeling it wasn’t that straightforward.

“Yah, you had me scared for a second.” Taehyung breathed out a shaky laugh.

“Why? You didn’t think I could handle myself in there?” You chuckled lightly, recalling how serious he got.

“No, you’re perfectly capable. It was me I was worried about. I thought I was going to have to put my job and freedom on the line.” The way he said it carried that same comical tone, but there was something very serious as well in its implications. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant by that.

You looked at him wide-eyed for a second, a bit at a loss knowing he’d be willing to go that far for you. Even in the worst-case scenario, you wouldn’t consider losing your job, and certainly not going to jail, over something like that.

Taehyung returned your gaze and smiled at you, warm and reassuring as always, before you both finally started to hear the hurried clicking of Solmi’s heels making it around the corner.

“Yah! Why did you guys just leave me?!”

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin's role at the office made his life more complicated than it needed to be. Besides being Jungkook’s friend, his job also had him working a lot more closely with the younger in comparison to the other executives. He was the associate director to Jungkook’s position, and pretty much handled a lot of the grunt work. He would always step up to his friend’s role whenever Jungkook wasn’t in the building, and he was already in line to take over the next time Jungkook was promoted. Jimin was in great standing in contrast to others around his age, and he would always be eternally grateful to Jungkook and his family for giving him this opportunity. However, balancing the crazy workload Jungkook always asked of him— everyone in the department really, plus just trying his best to be there for his friend, was a task he sometimes questioned if he could manage.

Because of the way he bounced between being by Jungkook’s side and working with managers in the office, he was oftentimes caught in the middle of the drama and heard all the gossip and rumors that would go around. People in the department would complain, and there was some part of him that sympathized with their woes because his friend would really go off the deep end at times with his demands, but there was the other side who was still Jungkook’s friend. Jimin had to deal with Jungkook deteriorating right before his eyes, while simultaneously being subjected to hearing his colleagues badmouthing his friend, who to him, was clearly suffering. Jimin couldn’t even say anything. He was watching his best friend fall apart, and having people say the worst things about him, all without them knowing what he was going through, made it difficult to stand idly by and listen.

It wasn’t even like he could tell them because even he didn’t truly know what was going on.

Jimin had cherished the day Jungkook began opening up to him after he started to notice something was wrong. Just as Jungkook seemed to get more comfortable in sharing the issues he was dealing with in his marriage, at the beginning of the year was when those walls came back up thicker, higher, and practically impenetrable.

Jimin had hoped that it meant things were getting better between him and Yuri, but it was painfully obvious Jungkook was just getting worse and worse as the days went on. You weren’t the only one noticing how much he changed. Jimin was by his side the entire time as he saw firsthand how life continued to drain out of him as the days went by.

Jimin had seriously tried his best to be there for him, but no matter what, Jungkook continued pushing him away. He would brush off any of his concerns and drown himself— and everyone else around him— with work.

It was hard to watch.

Jimin could never forget what happened a few weeks ago. He came to work early on Jungkook’s birthday to drop off a gift with the hope to surprise him later when he’d come in, but instead was nearly scared shitless once he opened the door and turned on the lights to find Jungkook passed out at his desk. There was a bottle of vodka and enough empty cans of beer covering the surface to almost shield him from view and encase him in completely.

Jimin had known Jungkook was going to stay overtime the day before, he’d even seen the beer he brought in, but he brushed it off thinking he was simply restocking the mini fridge in his office. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to share a drink together after hours, a good beer was always the perfect remedy to wash away their stress. However, it was obvious from the overturned box that he’d drunk the entire pack all by himself, plus the vodka he had no idea Jungkook even had in here.

That was not it. As Jimin looked around his office, he found another box had been opened, and he wondered if it had fallen off his desk because of the way the cans were sprawled across the floor (definitely less than the twelve that came in the pack). As Jimin steadily got closer, he noticed one of the cans was tipped over beside him, the sticky liquid pooling on his desk, like he’d passed out with the drink still in his hand.

It was a concerning sight to say the least, and nearly gave him a heart attack as he hurriedly rushed over to make sure his friend was ok (alive). His mind raced with the worst thoughts possible as he tried to shake him awake.

Jimin had planned the whole day out to give his friend the best 26th birthday in the history of birthdays. What was supposed to be the start of a celebration turned into a nightmare when Jungkook didn’t immediately wake up. It was honestly a miracle he did. It took some time; it was like the universe itself had slowed down as he waited for something, anything. Tears had welled up in his eyes, Jimin had been so close to calling 119, when in a fit of desperation he slapped Jungkook’s back a little too hard. That was apparently enough to finally get him to stir awake.

“Owwwwww…” Jungkook moaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach back and rub the spot where it ached.

Jimin had a lot to say, most of which he figured went in one ear and out the other since Jungkook was clearly still drunk. He hated nagging, especially when his friend was out of it like that, but he really had scared him. Jimin pulled him into a hug as he went on and on about how stupid he was.

“Why you soooooo loud?” Jungkook whined, pulling out of Jimin’s arms and laying back down on his desk.

“Because— Jungkook, have you not been listening? Do you know how much you drank?!” Jimin nearly yelled pointing to all the cans and the vodka bottle that practically covered the desk.

“Shhhhh! I ne— have wake up for work later… I’m trying to sleep…” Jimin found it hard to understand him because of the way his words slurred together, like somehow he could understand that.

“Didn’t efen dink much.” Jungkook mumbled, as if it was any other Friday, and Jimin was being overdramatic.

As much as he could have kept the battle going, Jimin made the executive decision that there was no way in hell Jungkook would be able to work today, let alone ride along for his birthday surprise. He was better off trying to sleep this off.

Somehow Jimin was able to get him downstairs, but by the time Jimin was sitting him down in the passenger seat of his car, his arms ached, and his whole body screamed in fatigue. He was stuck carrying Jungkook’s entire weight all the way from his office to the elevators, where he needed to wait for the elevator to go up twenty stories, before going back down those same twenty stories, and then truck through the entire parking garage because his dumbass thought it was best to park in his usual spot, all the way at the far end.

Jimin wanted to be annoyed, he wanted this to just be a one-time thing that they both could laugh about in the future, but there was definitely something wrong. Something was wrong all the time, but there were too many signs for this situation to be passed off as just a “rough night.”

This wasn’t his first time carrying Jungkook. Jimin liked to occasionally pick him up to emphasize “just because you’re taller, doesn’t mean I can’t still swing you around,” mainly to show off his efforts in the gym— but Jimin could tell over the months, years even, that his friend had grown lighter. With the way he needed to carry him, his arm wrapped around his waist, he could really tell just how much thinner he’d gotten.

And there still was the question of what made him drink so much…

Jimin’s head was swirling with worry as he got in his car, wondering what he should do from here. He’d considered taking Jungkook to the hospital, he had no idea how much he really drank, but the fact he was able to make it downstairs he figured meant he was ok enough to sleep this off, hopefully.

He sighed and turned over to Jungkook who was already passed out beside him. Jimin reached over to open his suit jacket and fished out the phone in the pocket he’d placed it in. Somehow the facial recognition still worked with Jungkook’s passed-out face, and Jimin was able to pull up his contact list.

Yuri 💞

Jimin rolled his eyes seeing the hearts next to her name knowing how fake that emoji was.

“It’s like we’re a real couple now…” Jungkook had nervously chuckled that day he changed Yuri’s contact in his phone— merely hours before his engagement party.

How Jungkook hadn’t ended up changing it was beyond him.

Yuri 🖕🏻was more appropriate in his opinion.

Jimin took a deep breath before he hit the call button. Now, Jimin loved using the word hate when it came to Yuri. While he wasn’t aware of all the details of their relationship, Jimin just knew deep down she was the reason for Jungkook’s rapid decline— maybe it’d been her fault he drank so much.

It took a couple of rings, but Jimin was thoroughly surprised she actually picked up.

“What—“

“Yuri, it's Jimin.” He was quick to interrupt her.

There was silence over the line for a while, like she was trying to remember who that was.

“Jungkook’s friend… coworker—“

“I know that— what— why do you have his phone?” For a split second, he believed she sounded a little concerned.

“I thought you would know— how did you not notice he didn’t come home last night?” Jimin was seething the more he thought about the possibility that this was somehow connected to Yuri, but he tried his best to keep himself calm for Jungkook’s sake.

“He told me he was working late.” She put it so plainly.

“And you just let him? You do realize today’s his birthday, right?” Jimin just rolled his eyes as the silence continued on the other line. At the moment, the pieces seemed to click in his head. Was it the fact Yuri clearly forgot his birthday the reason Jungkook practically drowned himself in alcohol?

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t, but maybe it was, and that possibility was enough for him. Jimin had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from screaming at her, but once again, he calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this.

“Anyway, Jungkook got really— really drunk last night, and I’m worried about leaving him alone. If you’re not already there, could you meet me at your apartment and watch over him? I would do it myself but I have work in an hour so—“

“Can’t you just put him on the bed or something? I don’t think he needs a babysitter—“

“Yuri, I don’t think you understand, he’s really—“ But before he could finish, Jimin suddenly turned to see Jungkook hurriedly pushing open the door. He couldn’t even question him before it became obvious that the nausea, which had made the whole journey downstairs that much harder, had finally taken its toll.

Jimin set the phone down and reached over to rub his back lightly. He tried his best to ignore the unpleasant sounds and the dry heaving that went on for a while; his heart ached seeing his friend’s pitiful condition. Things only got worse when it finally seemed to be the end of it, the sounds of soft whimpers started to fill the growing silence.

“Hyung… I’m so sorry.” Jimin hardly caught it, Jungkook was so quiet and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Jungkook—“

Jungkook sat up and hesitantly faced him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears that flowed harder the longer he looked at him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook just sobbed.

“It’s fine, please don’t—“

“This is so fucking embarrassing, I’m so sorry, this is so pathetic, I—I—“

“Jungkook, you're not pathetic,” Jimin interjected, trying his best to keep strong.

“Fucking threw up in the parking lot— can’t get much worse.” Jungkook choked out.

“It could be, don’t say that because this could get so much worse.” Jimin had a few ideas, mainly in the fact that he could have been stuck riding in an ambulance worried for his friend’s life. “By the way, are you ok? I was going to take you home, but we can stop by the hospital to make sure you’re ok if you need it.”

Jungkook lazily shook his head. “Just take me back to my office, I have to work—“

It was then that Jimin started the car. “Don’t even think about it, I’m taking you home.” Jimin buckled the both of them in and started making his way out of the garage.

“Can— hyung, can you go slower?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you still feel sick?” Jimin grimaced as he briefly worried about his car’s freshly cleaned interior.

“Yeah,” just the mention of the word seemed to make him nauseous all over again. “My head hurts too—“ They finally made it out of the garage, the morning sun quickly filled the car. Like a vampire in disguise, Jungkook groaned and tried to duck away from the rays floating in.

“I’ll be gentle— luckily it’s early enough so there isn’t too much traffic, we should make it to your place soon.”

There was silence for a little while. In the moment, Jimin remembered the fact he’d never hung up the phone with Yuri, but one quick glance down, and he saw she’d left. All he could do was hope she’d be there.

“Hyung, I feel like so much shit.” Jungkook slurred. He’d closed his eyes, hoping it might help ease the nausea or how much his head pounded with every bump or slight turn in the road, but it wasn’t helping at all.

“Mmm I bet, get ready for the worst hangover of your life.” Jimin tried to joke, but all he got was a choked sob in return.

“It’s what I fucking deserve.” Jungkook blubbered as he looked out the window, tears quickly filled his eyes before they started falling uncontrollably. “Can’t make her happy, just want to make her happy! Hyung she’s so miserable, and it’s all my fault!” The breakdown had come out of nowhere, but it had Jungkook in its grasp and had no plans of letting him go.

Jimin had no idea what to do. They’ve had so many talks about it at this point, but Jungkook never went into enough detail for him to ever be able to really help him. Even while drunk, Jungkook seemed to keep the details about what was going through his head locked away, never to see the light of day.

“Jungkook…” Jimin reached over and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you ok?” The question lingered in the air in between Jungkook’s sobs. The more Jimin’s question seemed to dawn on him, the more distraught he became.

“And I mean this seriously, like clearly you’re not fine, but are you… fine?” Jimin had hoped he’d answer. A simple ‘no’ would have been a step in the right direction, but he said nothing, letting the tears stream down his face suffice for an actual answer.

“Because if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right? Anything, it could be anything that’s on your mind.” Jimin looked over at his friend as they approached a red light, taking a moment to realize just how pitiful he looked. His suit jacket had been thrown in the backseat, his tie was barely hanging on, his face was red and covered with tears, and Jimin had to stop every two seconds to help try and ease the nausea.

“I can’t lie, I’m really worried about you. If something is bothering you, please know you can tell me anything.” Jimin was trying not to get emotional, but he’d never seen Jungkook like this in all the years he’d known him. Ever since she came into his life, everything had gone to shit. He knew all of this was her fault and Jungkook’s decline was too painful to watch.

Jimin was worried, so fucking worried actually, that he feared every time he’d leave his friend’s side. While all of this could just be ruled as some random drunken breakdown, Jimin knew it was a small window into what was going on inside his friend’s tormented mind.

“Please say you’d tell me Jungkook…” Jimin gently shook his leg, desperately wanting the reassurance that if things were as bad as he feared, that he’d say something.

When Jungkook’s sobs stopped, Jimin hoped he’d give him an answer, but instead, he watched as Jungkook leaned up, and grabbed onto the dashboard while attempting deep, steady breaths.

“Hyung…” His voice was quiet yet pained.

“Yes?” All Jimin wanted to know was that he’d say something.

“Pull—“ A couple more deep breaths “Please pull over…”

It took a second for the words to register. “Wha— why—“

“N-Now!” Jungkook tried to emphasize as he quickly had to put his hand over his mouth.

Luckily for the both of them, there was an opening on the street up ahead. Before Jimin could question it any further, Jungkook was already stumbling out of the car and toward the trash can that was on the street corner.

Jimin never got that reassurance he needed, not that day, or any other day afterward. He wondered if Jungkook had heard him at all.

When Jungkook got back, he was crying all over again about how pathetic he was, the cycle starting anew. But it only took about two minutes before Jungkook passed out once again, and he was asleep until Jimin was shaking him awake when they’d finally made it to his apartment.

The journey upstairs was just as difficult as going downstairs at Golden Tech. Jungkook had sobered up a little, but Jimin, once again, was stuck carrying him to the elevator. His exhaustion, the nausea, his head, everything really, made it hard for Jungkook to stand. Slowly but surely, they finally made it up to his door.

Jimin had hoped when they arrived that Yuri would be there. He knew, despite his own feelings, how happy it would have made Jungkook at that moment, and it was the least she could do after everything. He wanted to think maybe, just maybe, she’d show up, especially after Jimin had to remind her that it was her husband’s birthday. He hated the fact that he had let a glimmer of hope spark. Deep down he wished that his conversation with her earlier was all just an act to not spoil Jungkook of a surprise waiting for him back at their apartment. Even if that wasn’t the case, he still hoped that she would at least be there. But after Jimin punched in the code and opened the door, the apartment was just as empty as it normally was.

He couldn’t even say that he wasn’t surprised.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jungkook had somehow found the strength to wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp. Free from his hold, Jimin watched as Jungkook started clumsily wrangling out of his suit jacket Jimin had put back on him earlier. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight and went over to grab Jungkook’s phone out of the jacket pocket.

Yuri had texted since they came up.

‘Sorry, won’t be back ‘till late. Busy.’ It was short, blunt, and to the point.

Yuri wasn’t coming.

Jimin sighed. He didn’t know why he was expecting anything different; she couldn’t even be by his side when he had pneumonia. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t trust Yuri alone with his friend anyway.

“Hyuuuunnggggg…” Jungkook whined. Jimin finally looked up and noticed he’d stripped all the way down to his boxers.

“Is Yuri coming?” He asked as he flopped onto the couch.

“You know, the bed would be better…” Jimin chuckled lightly before walking over to him. He grabbed the throw that was draped over the couch and fluffed it over him.

“Too far…” He grumbled into the leather.

Mmm, of course.

“Hyung— Yuri…?”

“She said she’s busy.” Jimin tried to maintain a soft smile as he saw the disappointment settle in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Of course she is…” Jimin hated the way he saw Jungkook’s lip quiver.

“It’s ok, I’ll stay by your side.” Work was out of the picture, Jimin knew better than to leave him alone when he was like this. “You know, I had this whole plan today to celebrate your birthday.” Jimin suddenly remembered he’d left Jungkook’s present back in his office, he forgot to grab it on his way out. “We can bring the celebration here though. I could start it off by making you breakfast—“

Jimin turned around to see Jungkook already fast asleep.

Not much happened that day, Jungkook didn’t wake up until the sun was setting. In that time Jimin had made a quick trip back to the office, both to tell everyone Jungkook was sick and wouldn’t be at work today, and to grab that present he had left.

Jimin went the extra mile with it, hoping the right gift would help put that pep back in his friend’s step. He was honestly very worried about the present as he prepared it, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook would like it as much as he hoped. What he didn’t expect was Jungkook’s teary reaction through his bleary eyes (despite the fact that he’d slept for the last 12 hours), as he peeled back the wrapping paper.

“You used to play all the time back when we were in high school and college, maybe getting back into it would be good for you.” Jimin smiled.

Sitting on Jungkook’s lap was the box of a new, sleek, black, custom-made electric guitar— the exact one Jungkook had told Jimin so many years ago that he wanted to buy when he started earning a good amount of money.

“This… hyung what I would give to play this, but… Yuri hates it when I’m loud, I don’t think she’ll let me play it.” Despite his words, Jungkook continued to stare at the picture over the box, letting his hand lightly run over it.

Jimin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of that woman, tired of her always coming in the way of everything. “Well fuck her! Don’t let her stop you, she’s not even here right now. Please~ I wanted to see you play before I leave.” Jimin should have been a little more cautious with his words considering who he was talking to, but at the end of the day, he meant every word.

Fuck her!

Jungkook’s face dropped, looking less than pleased.

“Hyung, thank you so much for staying here with me today— and for the present, but maybe it’s best if you leave.” Jungkook suddenly sounded very serious as he spoke.

“Huh? What, why?” Jimin was confused at the sudden change in mood.

“I know how you feel about Yuri, but I don’t appreciate you speaking about my wife like that—“

“But Jungkook, you can’t possibly—“

“Leave hyung! Go— please just go!” Jungkook demanded, looking more pissed than ever.

In the silence that followed, this was when Jimin began getting angry. The longer he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, the more he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jungkook be choosing someone who hardly paid him any attention over the person he’s been able to count on and has known since he was in elementary school?

“I can’t believe you’re fucking kicking me out and sticking up for the bitch who couldn’t even be here with you on your birthday.” Jimin angrily mumbled as he got up to put on his shoes. It was a low blow, Jimin could have phrased it a little differently since he knew he was hitting a sensitive topic. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook, but that was the only thing he regretted.

The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“I swear if you’re not out the door in five fucking seconds, I will end you!” Jungkook said slowly through gritted teeth, giving Jimin a glare that he was sure he would never forget in his life. He’d never seen Jungkook so mad, never thought it was possible to make him that mad, and it was over Yuri?

Five seconds was too long before he heard Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind him. It was probably only because of the haze of the hangover still weighing Jungkook down, that Jimin was able to grab his shoes, quickly slam the door behind him, and walk away unscathed.

Things just weren’t the same after that.

How could they be?

It’s like Jungkook was pushing him away, and as much as Jimin tried his fucking best to be there for him, he was only human and feelings got in the way sometimes. He regretted leaving that day, with how things played out, anything could’ve happened considering the way Jungkook had been acting lately.

Jimin seriously thought pushing Jungkook to seek professional help would be enough to bring his best friend back— he’d been ecstatic when Jungkook told him he was finally going to therapy, but it seemed that after the first session, he never went back… at least if he did, Jimin didn’t know about it.

Things were bad, probably worse if he knew the whole story. But that— that is exactly the reason why it pissed him off so much every time his coworkers would complain about Jungkook. How could they not see? It was plain as day that something wasn’t right.

That’s why when you came to his office later for your surprise (he gave you a celebratory bottle of expensive champagne) and asked him about Jungkook, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Director Park, I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but—”

“Did you have a question?” He interrupted, fully expecting this to be about your new position.

“No— well, yes, but everything is clear from the meeting. It’s just—” You played with the bottle in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“Director Jeon— is he… is he okay?” You seemed genuinely concerned, leaving Jimin too stunned to speak for a second.

See, Jimin didn’t hate you, but he knew— everyone who worked on this floor knew— that you didn’t like Jungkook, at all. Your reasons were a little understandable, considering the way his friend had treated you since you started working here.

Jungkook had no reason to target you because of a mistake you made years ago. Even Jimin had no idea why he was being so petty about it, considering he was normally an easygoing guy. He knew Jungkook didn’t hate you, but he could never pinpoint why he treats you like that.

“Jimin?” You questioned when he continued to stare at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine… um, you’re asking about Jungkook?”

You nodded. “I don’t know during the meeting… sorry, I might be overstepping, but something just seemed off.”

Jimin continued to stare at you, a little unsure of what to say. He wanted so badly to tell you— honestly, he was just happy you noticed— but…

Even he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin never gave you a straight answer. He dodged it entirely actually, not at all calming your nerves about your strange meeting.

You went home that day with Jungkook on your mind, but not like how he usually was— with you cursing his entire bloodline. No, instead you found yourself wondering what he was doing.

Did he eat today?

Was he sleeping alright?

Anything to write off today as just a bad day, but as the days turned into weeks in your new position, your concern never lightened up. The more time you spent working closer to him, the more you began seeing all the signs you did back then in high school with Mi-Sun.

It was like it was happening all over again. It took an attempt for you to fully realize what was happening the last time, but you saw the signs back then just like you did now. Something was wrong, very wrong actually, but every time you met one-on-one, you never found it in yourself to ask him directly how he was doing.

Do you still hate Jeon Jungkook? No, and you hate to say you ever did. Would you whine every time he gave you 15 billion tasks to do in one day? Yes, you did every time. But it was clear he must be dealing with a lot, so you just started keeping your complaints to yourself.

Now nearly a month into getting your new position, you had enough things on your plate to deal with other than whining 24/7 about your workload.

Today you had to lead a meeting in Director Son’s absence. The drastic drop in temperature had been enough to due him in and he’s been out sick all week. It was at the worst time too, everything was ridiculously hectic because of the holiday season coming up.

Without Director Son here, you were basically the acting director. You’ve been scrambling with all the shit that was being piled into your lap, but you tried to keep a brave face.

This presentation nearly made you collapse. It was a big meeting, and Director Son only gave you a few days to prepare after he let you know he was probably going to be out for a while. But you smashed it, because that’s what you always do. You couldn’t help but smile when you earned a round of applause after you concluded the last slide, and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as everyone slowly started getting up and leaving the meeting room.

It was finally over…

You went to go pack up your stuff when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder. Lo and behold it was him, Head Director Jeon.

“Y/n.” Jungkook seemed nervous as he nodded over at you.

You bowed. “Hope you enjoyed my presentation Director Jeon…” You quickly panicked, worried this conversation was going to be about that.

“Yes, you did great— you always do…” He smiled at you. You were a sucker for compliments, but in the moment, it completely went over your head.

“No, actually this is about tomorrow. Usually, I’d do this with Director Son, but since he’s not here, I was hoping you’d be able to fill in for him.” He seemed even more nervous.

“That’s my job.” You put it matter-of-factly.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, tomorrow, as you know, things are pretty crazy these days… I have all these documents to go over for the budget presentation we have coming up for next quarter. Would you be available to stay late with me and go through all the details?”

Oh?

“Of course.” You said not putting much thought into it. You stay late most days anyway.

For some reason, he seemed to tense up even more.

“Good… um… make sure to get a good night's rest; tomorrow might be a long day.” He pointed out.

“Hmm?”

He already knew what you were going to ask. “This could be an all-night thing… sorry to put you in this position— Director Son and I—“

“It’s fine sir. I’ll be there.” You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to force a smile. You didn’t want to be here all night; you were already exhausted as it is and now there was no chance you could agree to any of Solmi’s Halloween plans.

The holiday was tomorrow, and she had wanted to whisk you and Taehyung away to Itaewon for a night full of bar hopping to all the places that were hosting parties in the area. She had pleaded for you to consider it even though you already told her how busy you were. You had honestly been thinking about it, it could have been a night out to de-stress from all that was on your plate, but there goes that opportunity. At least if you didn’t go, you could have been home catching up on sleep, relaxing, anything really but be here. And with Jeon Jungkook?

You regretted saying yes so fast.

“Ok— great… um, again, that was a great presentation. See you tomorrow.” It was an awkward goodbye, but that’s how most of your conversations went, so you didn’t dwell on it.

As the door closed behind him, you took a second to breathe, and enjoy the silence of the meeting room. In that peace, you realized a detail your brain completely skipped over.

You were working overtime with Jungkook. You were going to be alone… together.

Suddenly you felt yourself getting a little nervous.

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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rhenysz · 9 months

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Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 1

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all your life, many people say that death was lurking around your eyes, maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.

A/n: This took longer than expected and isn't even half as long as I would have liked, but I've finally finished the first book and let's get to the real story! Thank you for the positive feedback 🙌🏻 This chapter was more about the sisters' bond, the next ones will be different. I think the Reader has an emotional dependence on Feyre 😥

*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with the help of an AI, any grammatical errors please let me know*

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Scars, family abandonment, mentioned death.

previous x next

"Do you not think you're exaggerating?" Elain asked you with forced gentleness. The sound of her sipping tea tickled your ears. Dropping your own teacup on the living room's coffee table – causing some splashes to stain the surface – you placed a hand on your chest in mock indignation, perhaps not entirely fake.

"I'd rather be thrown to the wolves than face the conjugal bed, and I must say I'm terrified of those animals." Your lips curled downward, "Men, in this case."

Elain's eyes crinkled at the corners, and the curve of her lips lifted even as she tried to dispel the amusement she felt.

"I understand. But maybe you should consider, I bet Feyre would return in time for your wedding." She spoke with her eyes lowered to the tea.

No, she wouldn't return. You wanted to shout out to Elain. Hardly would that beast willingly let your sister go, that is if she wasn't already in the belly of those faeries.

"I have no interest in getting married, sister. And who in their right mind would be interested in someone with my condition?" Your voice was soft, not a hint of resentment showing in your features.

Having a man in your life was not something you desired. They were rough, lazy, and smelled bad. Not even the twisted relationship Feyre had with that man could make you want one too.

"Maybe... you just haven't looked in the right place," Elain commented. Looked? Have holy patience. You were hardly going to look at anything, let alone a man. Realizing her bluntness, Elain widened her eyes towards you, "I didn't mean it that way, sister, it was just a figure of speech—"

Your laughter cut off Elain's awkward attempt to apologize. Your shoulders shook with the intensity of your laughter. Elain sighed in relief and awkwardly joined in.

Feyre didn't treat you as if you were about to burst into tears.

After that interesting conversation with Elain, Nesta barged into the room, interrupting – rather rudely – to announce that a luxurious carriage was approaching.

You could hear the rustle of Elain's skirts as she tried to beautify herself even more. Despite Nesta feigning an indifferent facade, she was also discreetly arranging her hair.

Laughing to yourself, you wondered how you must look in your supposed light blue dress. A hand grabbed your arm and gently lifted you from the sofa. Nesta, you could tell the difference. Elain had rougher hands from gardening, and Nesta's hands were colder.

"Let's go. Can you manage on your own?" Nesta asked. You appreciated that she allowed you to have your own autonomy. Nodding, you reached for the edge of the sofa where your cane rested and grabbed it.

When you heard the door opening, your head turned towards the sound and you went, dragging the golden tip of the cane across the floor, which hit the furniture warning you to dodge, and slowly going after your sisters – who were walking significantly slower to wait for you.

His cane hit the front door step. Carefully, you placed your foot in front to descend. The breeze made your hair flutter, and it felt so good; the wind kissed your skin like a longing lover.

"Welcome to our home... Lady." You heard Nesta as you finally caught up with your sisters. A brief moment of silence followed, soon to be cut by an extremely familiar laughter

.Your heart raced, and your free hand crumpled the dress you were wearing. Your lifeless eyes turned, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Nesta," she laughed, "doesn't recognize her own sister?" The air was expelled from your lungs, Feyre. A burning sensation started in your eyes, and without you realizing, fat tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. No matter how or where, you would always, always recognize your sister's voice.

The crunching of dried leaves alerted you that someone was approaching, a calm breath was blown on your face. Your trembling lips also parted as you tried to find the right words. Nothing came to mind; it was as if your brain had turned to jelly.

"My snowflake..." Feyre stepped forward, using her fingers to wipe away your tears. She missed you so much while she was with Tamlin. Her chest weighed every time she thought of you, her dearest sister.

Closing your eyes tightly, you let out a sob and threw yourself into Feyre's arms. Discarding the cane without care, your hands reached the back of your sister, pulling her into a tight and emotional embrace.

Feyre staggered under your weight and laughed. She laughed as she nestled in your arms and continued to laugh even as she felt Nesta's eyes drilling holes into her head.

You couldn't physically move away from Feyre while your sisters talked with her. Your hand clung to hers in the hope that if you held on tight enough, she wouldn't leave again.

But not even all the happiness you were feeling could make you ignore Feyre's excuse. Taking care of Aunt Ripleigh? You distinctly remembered that it wasn't Aunt Ripleigh who tore the door off the old cabin.

As expected, Nesta was cautious, hovering over you and Elain as if Feyre would reveal her true intentions at any moment. She declined Elain's invitation to go to the garden, seeing Feyre there made her physically sick, so she withdrew to avoid conflicts in front of her sisters.

You were focused on Feyre and Elain's conversation, desperately wanting her to talk about what happened.

Feyre tensed when Elain casually mentioned – distracted by the flowers – that Nesta visited her at Aunt Ripleigh's. Another lie.

You felt Feyre's breath near your face: "How have you been?"

Fine. You were fine, but not well enough to disguise the suspicion in your expression. Feyre quickly noticed and stepped back slightly.

"Why are you lying to us?" You were direct, no more beating around the bush. You needed answers, and not even Elain's presence would distract you from your goal.

Feyre widened her eyes toward Elain and was relieved to see that she was far enough away not to hear. Biting her lips, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the exit, giving a brief goodbye to Elain, who was so fascinated by the new petunia seedlings that she didn't care.

You were guided through a few doors until you reached a room that Feyre considered safe from curious ears.

You crossed your arms over your chest and impatiently waited for Feyre, who ran her hand through her hair and sighed, not knowing where to start. Then she decided to start with the worst.

"I– I'm in love with the High Lord of Prythian."

If you weren't already blind, you could swear your vision blurred at that moment.

And then Feyre told you, told about how the other side of the wall was breathtaking, told about the peculiar creatures that existed there, told about her frenemy Lucien, and told about how she fell in love with the beast that turned out to be so loving to her.

And to your dismay, she detailed the night of passion she had before being – gently – sent home.

"I didn't need to know that. I have a vivid imagination, and I hate myself for it." You spoke with disgust; Feyre chuckled and approached you, taking your hand and bringing it to her face.

"I haven't told you everything," you murmured for her to continue. Your fingers traced the contours of her face. She looked so different but at the same time so familiar. Perhaps she had become healthy.

"There was a male who threatened Tamlin, he was handsome, maybe the most beautiful male I've ever seen," she commented absentmindedly, "he asked for my name... Clare Beddor."

Clare Beddor, the name weighed on your tongue. Clare, your former neighbor who was killed in such a horrendous way that no one could bear to look for too long, according to your gossip source – Elain.

Feyre had given a false name to the fairy assassin. And you could swear she didn't know what had happened to that poor girl. And perhaps you weren't the most suitable person to tell her about the event; Feyre seemed happy sharing her new experiences. And you? You would allow yourself to be selfish for a moment.

"I understand."

Your sisters and your father went to the seasonal ball, and despite Elain's insistence, that wasn't your place. Your place was anywhere as long as it was far from high society. You certainly didn't fit the standards imposed by them, even though those who looked at you were dazzled.

"A beauty never seen before."

"I would die for features as delicate as yours."

"It's truly a shame…"

Feyre promised to come back early, just like you; she didn't like crowds and pompous people. Feyre promised to come back early.

So you did the only thing that was possible – you waited. Waited while eating, waited while talking to some servants, waited while invading Elain's garden, and waited until you got tired and chose the living room sofa as a great place to rest.

Inevitably, your eyes began to weigh, and before you realized it, sleep completely took you, plunging you into a deep state of peace, unable to hear the hurried steps through the house and the slam of the door closing.

Feyre promised to come back early.

Feyre hated goodbyes.

Perhaps, just perhaps, you should have already imagined that this would happen. Feyre was in love with the beast, and people in love tend to do foolish things.

That didn't ease the chest pain you felt when the next morning you were informed that she had returned to the fae lands in search of her High Lord. The feelings of betrayal and sadness walked hand in hand.

At the same time, you couldn't find the strength to harbor resentment towards her. Why would you? For the first time in her life, your sister was dedicating herself to something that truly made her happy. It didn't matter if she was leaving her family behind, right? No, that mattered to you.

Nesta hated dealing with your whirlwind of emotions; she hated that you depended on someone to be happy, and she made it clear when you woke up.

"Feyre is not responsible for what you feel. You are allowing yourself to stay in this state. Stop depending on her to live."

Despite being harsh, Nesta was spot-on with her words. Feyre was finally living her dream life; it was time for you to start living yours too, without anyone dictating how you should feel.

And thinking about this led you to where you were now, with your hands covered in clay – and probably not just your hands – trying to give some shape to that earthy mass on the spinning table in the studio.

Your mind wandered through all the possibilities of sculpture. Sculpting things your fingers had memorized or even inventing new forms to call conceptual. It would be ironic if your sculptures became famous.

Humming to yourself, your fingers gently moved over the clay's edges, shaping a small sphere; you pulled five points out and rounded the edges.

"They look like fingers." Merina's voice made you jump on the stool; Merina was one of the maids you had become close to, she had such a calm and gentle voice that, if you let her, could lull you to sleep.

"Well, I hope so. I'd be very upset if they looked like something else." You laughed, still molding your supposed fingers. Merina dragged a stool to join you, after, of course, looking down the hall to make sure no one was approaching.

She looked amazed at your hands giving life to the clay. Inevitably, her mind wandered, how? How were you capable? Feeling where your mind wandered, you chuckled softly and tilted your head in a silent invitation. Merina cleared her throat and asked:

"Why a hand?"

You subtly widened your eyes; that certainly wasn't the question you were expecting. A hum came from your throat before you answered Merina.

"It's with my hands that I see; they are my eyes to the world," you replied, licking your lips as you pondered, "I don't know how I manage it; I fear there's no logical explanation for it."

Merina didn't say anything, just grunted in response. Extending your hand, you searched the table until you found a small knife; bringing it close to the sculpture, you began making small fillets with it all along the hand's length.

Merina turned to you curiously, not understanding why you were deforming the piece. She gently nudged you with a – painfully pointed – question.

"Hmm, I've been thinking about it lately, hands with scars," you made one final cut and dropped the knife. Merina reached for an old cloth to help you clean your hands, "thank you. What would it be like to see with these hands? Would the texture of things be different? Or would the sensitivity be greater?" You rambled to her.

There were so many questions to consider, and in your opinion, you could already be considered a hands expert. That made you laugh.

Merina took the cloth from your hands and brought it toward your face, cleaning some clay splatters that had strayed there.

"I hope you don't have the answers on your own. It must be a horrible pain to have your hands torn apart." She commented, lowering the cloth.

A horrible pain? Makes sense. Whoever has hands like that must have a melancholic story behind them.

"You're right."

As promised, you lived your life the best way possible, and sculptures paved the way to your heart. Over time, your clay skills became refined, even daring to sculpt the features of your sisters; Nesta was your biggest supporter, even if she didn't admit it, there wasn't a day she didn't pass by to make sure your stock was full.

Each sister had their own shelf containing everything you thought resembled them. Elain had sculpted flowers and cakes, Nesta had books and red jewels, and Feyre had an arrow – just a sculpture, but it was the one you dedicated the most time to, whether smoothing the edges or trying to paint in the right places.

Because even though Feyre was a million miles away, you would love her all the way, and even if she never came back, you would find your way to her through the heart.

You wouldn't wait for her, but you wouldn't forget everything you had been through together.

And you might not even believe she would come back, but that tingling you felt in your fingers when you heard a knock on the door made you doubt your mental state.

It may be that besides being blind, you're also becoming deaf because hearing your sister's name from Elain's lips after so long is not a sign of good auditory nostalgia.

"Feyre?"

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@dearestdaffodils @going-through-shit

@valeridarkness @wallacewillow0773638

@harrystylesfan2686 @carnationworld

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@microwaveallthedemons

#~rhenysz #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #slow burn #eventual smut #eventual romance #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron

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lady-pug · 17 days

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Written Between the Lines

Chapter IV - Where Lions Preen and Dragons Feast

Summary: Yours and Aemond’s relationship flourishes as you wait for your wedding to arrive. But when Jason Lannister steps out of line, insulting not only yourself, but also your mother and your future husband, you putting him back in his place elicits an interesting reaction from Aemond.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); Aemond being pussydrunk; Jason Lannister being a major asshole; Aemond is a simp through and through (I plead my case)

Notes: Hello my dears, how have you been? I bring you the next chapter of this series (this is also my second time ever I writing smut so bear with me please, I apologize in advance)

Just to explain some things, Aemond and Reader call each other husband and wife in High Valyrian even though they are not married yet because apparently there is no word for betrothed, fiancé, bride, groom or anything similar in High Valyrian, so they call each other that (it’s meant to be more affectionate than a indication of their relationship status anyway)

Also, I again used an online translator (if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far and that you enjoy this chapter!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Things had been calm, albeit quite hectic all the same, at least for a while. On the very same night after the spectacle that was the hearing over Driftmark, King Viserys had passed away in his sleep. Your mother, bless her soul, was with him when it happened, and promptly called for the maesters’ help but there was no longer anything they could do, leaving his body in the care of the silent sisters. Her coronation, reluctantly, happened on the very next morning. Rhaenyra wanted time to mourn her father, but an heir had no time to mourn a king, for the realm demanded a new one. Or, in this case, a queen.

In order to remind the lords of all the great houses of the oath they’d sworn to King Viserys almost twenty years before, Rhaenyra sent out every dragonrider to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon flew to Riverrun; Jace paid the Lord Cregan Stark a visit; Baela, accompanied by Rhaena, was sent to the Vale; Aegon and Helaena took flight to Casterly Rock to negotiate with a promise of maintenance of Ser Tyland Lannister’s chair on the Queen’s Small Council and a future betrothal between Jaehaerys and Jason Lannister’s daughter, Cerelle; Luke headed to the Reach.

You, on the other hand, were sent to speak with the Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell with a proposition to join the Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule, which he of course refused and practically laughed in your face. But you were nothing short of prepared, coming up with an alternative: should he recognize your mother as the Queen of Westeros, even if Dorne remained an independent kingdom, he could keep the Stepstones and incorporate it into Dornish territory. You’d even personally aid them with your dragon in driving away the Triarchy; the only catch was, after that, he’d have to maintain it of his own accord. If he was successful in keeping the Stepstones going forward, they were his to do what he pleased so long as he kept open commerce with the rest of the realm. He’d eventually caved in, an impressed smile adorning his features (and a proposition to warm your bed, which you politely turned down) as he agreed to your terms.

The only two great houses who gave any indication of trouble accepting your mother’s claim to the Iron Throne were Houses Baratheon and Greyjoy. Lord Borros Baratheon, although vexed at having to bend the knee to a woman, didn’t seem so bothered after negotiations with his cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, and a proposal to wed one of his daughters to the previous king’s youngest son, Daeron. Lord Dalton Greyjoy, on the other hand, was quick to bend the knee to Rhaenyra the moment he set his eyes on Vhagar flying above Pyke, the sheer size of her rumored to be bigger than the whole castle itself, and Aemond barely had to do any negotiations at all.

All of this, allied with the extensive gatherings of the Small Council (which Rhaenyra decided not to change most of its members for the time being, just rearranging their positions and reinstating Lord Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships) meant yours and Aemond’s wedding got pushed back several weeks, if not moons, the last thing on anybody’s minds at the moment. The betrothal itself was only announced after the return of the last of the dragonriders to King’s Landing, almost a whole moon after the death of your grandsire. By then, the expected date for the birth of your mother’s and Daemon’s babe was approaching, and so it was decided to wait until after the babe was born so as to not cause Rhaenyra unnecessary stress that came with planning a whole wedding feast.

In the meantime, you and Aemond would spend every waking moment in each other’s presence; wherever one was, the other was never too far behind. Especially after your betrothal was formally announced the two of you could often be found walking together around the gardens, your hand tucked on the crook of his elbow, or breaking your fast together. Sometimes you’d be found reading together in the library or you’d watch him train on the balcony above the courtyard. Your handmaids often jested with you calling him your shadow, as he never strayed too far, almost like a lost little puppy.

What the ever watching eyes of court didn’t see, however, was the way you’d often drag Aemond by the hand to some deep alcove away from everyone, or to the darkest hallway of in Maegor’s Holdfast, holding tightly onto the lapels of his leather doublet and crushing his lips to yours. Sometimes the kisses were unhurried, soft and gentle, everything you’d once dreamed of in your youth when your father, Ser Laenor, would tell stories of knights and princesses. Other times the kisses were fervent, passionate, his hands locked on tightly to your waist to stop them from wandering elsewhere. He’d been getting better the more you practiced together, more deliberate, sometimes catching you unguarded with a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head upwards, or a hand on your head and nimble fingers tangled in your hair. These stolen kisses, stolen moments, you shared had become the highlight of your days, and you suspected they were his too.

Almost two moons after her coronation you’d, regretfully, turned down your mother’s offer to spend some time with her in the middle of the morrow, promising to do so during the afternoon’s tea.

“You just want to gawk at your future husband training with a sword, don’t you?” she spoke, not even trying to hide the smirk hanging from her lips, much to your dismay. You felt the tips of your ears burning but didn’t try to deny it, for she knew you too well and could spot when you were lying.

Scurrying off to the courtyard you were pleasantly surprised to find it was practically devoid of the usual onlookers, not even the ladies of court were perched on their spot on the balcony, probably due to the gray and chilly weather that had briefly taken over the capitol.

Only a few knights occupied the yard, engaged in heated training matches. On one corner Ser Erryk, who had been appointed by your mother as your sworn protector, sparred with his twin, Helaena’s sword and shield. Jace was also present, slaughtering a hay stuffed dummy with his sword; normally Daemon would supervise his and Luke’s (and your own, in secret) instruction, having picked up where Ser Harwin left off, but with the late stages of his wife’s pregnancy he chose not to venture too far from her side should she need his assistance. And Aemond, dedicated as ever, found himself in a match against Ser Jason Lannister, who had been briefly summoned away from Casterly Rock by his brother for some reason or another.

Emboldened by the lack of people who would possibly berate you or gossip behind your back about your ‘unladylike’ conduct (and considering you didn’t particularly care for the opinion of the likes of Jason Lannister) you decided to join the men in the courtyard, sitting down on some crates near where your betrothed was sparring, meaning to watch him from closer than usual.

Aemond was good. He was more than just good, he was phenomenal. He moved effortlessly, swiftly around the makeshift battlefield, embodying the first rule your father ever told you when he began to train you: ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. He was one with the steel, moving with a graciousness that rivaled that of the greatest dancers. You could only imagine how many hours he had put into achieving such mastery, considering the incident had most likely completely changed his depth perception. Watching him fight, even as just a training exercise, winning match after match against Ser Jason, was doing funny things to your heart as it beat wildly in your chest, heat expanding from your cheeks and down to other places.

The sun, partially hidden by gray clouds, was already high up in the sky when both men decided to call it a day. Aemond had already re-sheathed his sword and was making his way towards you when Ser Jason stopped him, trying to engage in some rather interesting conversation.

“My prince,” the man started, loud enough for you to hear, only getting an impatient hum in response “I hope not to take up too much of your time. I was just hoping you could maybe have a word with your grandsire.”

“What about?” Aemond’s eye barely flitted to the man in front of him, his gaze settling on you over Jason Lannnister’s shoulder as he talked his ears away.

“The changes in the Small Council.” he shrugged, as if it was the most trivial thing in the world “Lord Velaryon being named Master of Ships barely seems fair, especially with the state of his health.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you see my prince, with a new reign just beginning I was hoping to be named Master of Coin.” he explained, finally gaining Aemond’s attention “But with the announcement of Lord Corlys for what was once my brother’s post, Tyland has now been appointed Master of Coin instead.”

You could see Aemond pursing his lips in thought, somewhat amused with the whole tirade Ser Jason was making.

“But you are the Lord of Casterly Rock, my lord. Shouldn’t that be enough for one man?”

“Ah, but to be granted a seat at the King’s Small Council is a great honor!” he kept on talking, not even noticing the slight jab aimed his way “Although the Queen’s Council just doesn’t have that nice of a ring to it.”

“Do you question your Queen’s decisions, my lord?” your betrothed asked, clearly meaning for Ser Jason to fall onto his trap and put his foot in his mouth. And oh, did he do it.

“I mean,” and that had you perking up on your seat “she hasn’t been known to always make the best decisions. My bet is she did this to appease Lord Velaryon about the death of his son. I simply don’t buy this tale of him being murdered by his squire. I am most sure she and that husband of hers had him killed so they could be together, she always had eyes for him in her younger years.”

He was speaking as if you weren’t even there, not noticing or simply not caring for your presence. You’d always known Jason Lannister was a fool, but you never took him for an idiot.

“She is a woman after all. They are more emotional creatures, thinking with their hearts rather than their brains.” he chuckled maliciously “Although a woman like Rhaenyra Targaryen probably thinks with her cunt more than anything.”

You were on your feet in an instant and even Aemond seemed surprised as the man started bad mouthing your mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, calling her every possible name under the sun.

“She would fuck any man who even glanced her way. Who knows who the father of all of her children even is? It might be one father for each offspring, we might never know.” Aemond’s expression got increasingly darker as the man talked about your brothers and you “The ones sired by her uncle are more likely to have purer Targaryen blood than the other three. What was she thinking, naming one of those counterfeits as heir?”

One moment you were watching the whole thing go down from afar and the next you were between the two men, holding Aemond back with both hands on his chest.

“You dare speak lowly of my betrothed, my future wife?! Your future queen?!” he tried lunging at Ser Jason but you stopped him, using all your strength to keep him from strangling the moron “I should have your tongue cut out and feed it to Vhagar, then feed her the rest of you along with it!”

“Aemond!” you held his face in your hands, firmly yet gently forcing him to look at you instead of the object of his ire “Ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys! Issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla.”

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the effort of calming down, until you eventually felt him nod curtly against your hands.

“Might I remind you, Ser Jason, that the one you speak ill of is none other than your Queen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and that the last man who called her a whore lost his head for it at the hands of that husband of hers.” you spoke over your shoulder, throwing his words right back at him, smirking mockingly “And if my memory serves me well, Lord Lannister, you actually sent in a request to take her hand in marriage when she was younger, a request she herself rejected. So, by your own words, she would fuck any man who even glanced her way except for you.”

Aemond stared at you wide eyed, and you couldn’t decipher if his expression was one of indignation or awe. As for Ser Lannister, whereas any smart man would have stopped talking by now, Jason Lannister was no smart man, and it seemed his wounded ego and pride only fueled his loose lips.

“You hide behind a woman, my prince? I never took the One-Eyed Prince for a coward. What next, are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?” he chuckled cruelly before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the both of you to hear “Maimed freak.”

The ringing in your ears and the way your name fell off of Aemond’s lips in a warning tone were the only indication of your next moves, and the next moment you found your hand wrapped around the handle of his sword. He couldn’t react fast enough, for you had already unsheathed his sword and turned, the tip of the blade pointing at Ser Jason’s neck.

“How about you kneel?” you hissed at him, noticing the other two knights and your brother intending to move forward and intervene, but they stopped with a gesture of your head.

The sword was longer, heavier than you were used to, but it would do. You held the Lannister’s stare daring him to move. He, in turn, unsheathed his own sword, clashing it against yours and proceeded to try to attack you.

One lesson Ser Harwin had taught you that had stuck with you for the rest of your life was that most of the knights in the realm were physically stronger than you. It was a given fact. But you were faster, more agile, not wearing several pounds in steel armor that slowed you down meaning you were light on your feet in turn.

“The realm isn’t a nice place for ladies such as yourself, princess.” you remember him saying, a wink thrown your way “The world will not play fair, so you must use every advantage you are given.”

So you waited, dodging Ser Jason’s every blow. You waited for a moment, for just one small falter on his part. It didn’t take long; he was angry, humiliated even, and thus he was reckless, giving you a large window of opportunity to strike. In an instant, while his arm was pulled back way above his head to strike down at you, you twisted your wrist, hitting him square on the nose with the pommel of your sword. He tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his now bleeding nose and the other blindly feeling around for his sword, which had fallen out of his hand during the fall.

“Yield.” you pointed Aemond’s sword at his neck once more “Yield and those present might just be merciful and overlook your transgressions, forget your treason.”

Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk had their hands placed on their own swords, prepared to defend you at a moment’s notice and arrest the treacherous lord should you just say the word. Jace, on the other hand, looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the situation, a strained smile painting his face.

“Why don’t you control your wife?!” Ser Jason spat at Aemond, gurgling on his own dripping blood as it ran down his face.

“She is not yet my wife. And besides,” Aemond smirked playfully at you, despite you not being able to see him “no one can control her.”

Seeing as he was vastly outnumbered, Ser Jason couldn’t see any other option than to accept defeat, raising his hands. Once you were sure he wouldn’t try anything funny again you turned back around, giving Aemond back his sword before stalking off, fuming at the man’s audacity.

You didn’t get very far, however, feeling a large warm hand wrapping around your wrist. You turned around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, but you faltered once you realized it was Aemond who had reached out to you. His expression was firm, determined, as he started dragging you by the wrist, finding one of the secret doors that lead to the hidden tunnels in the Keep and pulling you behind him with a steadfastness similar to the one he held himself with on the training yard.

“Aemond?” you asked while he pulled you deeper and deeper into the secret passages “I’m sorry.”

You feared you might have offended him. When you started approaching the age suitable for marriage, your mother had sat you down to explain what you should expect and to prepare you for what was to come. She told you most lords expected their wives to be proper, never speak out of turn and bend to their every whim with a head bowed. You replied, indignantly, that what they wanted then was a servant they could sire children with, something that prompted a full belly laugh from Daemon who had been standing closeby. You were worried that, by putting Ser Jason Lannister back in his place for insulting not only yourself and your mother, the Queen, but also your future husband, your actions reflected poorly on Aemond himself.

He only stopped walking when you were very far into the tunnels, turning you around and pushing your back against one of the stone columns. He was standing so close to you, staring at you so intently, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

“Please, uncle, forgive me! I do not know what came over me, he started insulting you and I just-”

The force with which he crashed his lips against yours was so intense it almost sent you tumbling backwards; your head would have surely been slammed against the wall behind you were it not for his hand gently cradling the back of it to prevent you from hurting yourself. He kissed you fiercely, and by the Gods, had he gotten good at it. His tongue moved against your own with rapid movements, his fingers tangling in your hair and tugging, electing a small breathy whimper out of you, to which he hummed in return, nipping at your bottom lip. He shoved one leg in between yours, keeping them apart, crowding you even further against the wall as his slender fingers pulled at your hair again to tilt your head to the side, allowing his lips to trail a path down your neck to the junction of your shoulder.

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes,” he groaned against your neck, nibbling softly at the skin “ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio.”

Arousal pooled in your core at his words, not even realizing your hips had started mindlessly moving back and forth against his thigh. It was over all too soon, however, as he took a step back from you, to which you whined at the loss of contact. But what he did next surprised you even more.

Aemond sank to his knees in front of you, his hands caressing from your hips to the back of your thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly.

“Proving some of Jason fucking Lannister’s words right.”

It dawned on you then what he meant, as he started bunching up your skirts.

“Are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?”

“Hold these for me?” he asked softly, holding the front of your dress bunched up against your navel, and the way he was looking up at you with so much adoration almost broke your heart.

“Aemond, I told you, we can’t-”

“Fear not, ābrazȳrys, this will not break your virtue.” he mentioned, hoisting one of your legs bend over his shoulder.

He spoke with so much conviction you wanted to believe him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Aegon may have mentioned something of the sorts.” he said casually.

“Are we trusting what Aegon says now?” you asked, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“My brother may be an idiot, but his expertise lies in two places:” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “his wines and the pleasures of the flesh.”

Your laughter echoed in the empty halls.

“Aegon does not strike me as the type to know how to please a woman.”

“I said he knows the pleasures of the flesh, not necessarily how to do it right.” he chuckled along, before his expression turned serious once again. He turned his head slightly, laying a kiss on the side of your knee “But if you really don’t feel comfortable, we can simply forget this ever happened and just wait for our wedding night.”

You pondered for a moment, not wanting for this moment with him to end. You were rather quickly realizing that there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him, and that thought brought a light fluttery feeling to your stomach.

“No no, I trust you.” you smiled reassuringly at him “If Aegon says it is fine, then I trust your judgment.”

“Good.” he inched closer to your core, pushing your smallclothes to the side “But please, stop talking about my brother. His name is not the one I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I feast on your cunt.”

As he was about to dive in, a hand holding onto his locks prevented him from doing so just yet.

“Would you rather I chanted Daeron’s name instead?” you jested, giggling at the annoyance that took over his features.

“Iksā iā ōdres.” he pinched the skin on the back of your thigh where his hand was resting, his other hand snaked around your leg perched over his shoulder, helping to keep you balanced “Ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon.”

“I mean, you did agree to marry-” your jesting was interrupted by a soft moan that left your parted lips, the feeling of his tongue licking a broad stripe between your folds catching you off guard.

Never in your entire life had you felt anything like it. A tingling feeling spread across your entire being, starting from where his lips and his tongue were diligently moving against your soaked slit. He worked smoothly against you, alternating between gentle strokes of his tongue over your entrance and soft kitten licks on your little bundle of nerves on the apex between your thighs.

“A-Aem…-” you tried uttering his name, now completely lost to the blissful sensations he was eliciting out of you, your fingers knotting on his hair and pulling hard.

And then something in him changed. Like a switch had been flipped in his mind, his grip tightening on your thighs as he started devouring your cunt with renewed vigor with a groan, its vibrations against your skin sending your toes curling from unbridled pleasure. You couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused it, if it was the way you tightened your hold on his silver strands, the breathiness in your voice or, as you’d later be reminded, the accidental use of a long forgotten sobriquet you hadn’t given a second thought to in several years.

Aemond feasted upon you like a man on a mission, desperately leaving open mouthed kisses and broad licks against you cunt like he was starved. It felt like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you should he perish tomorrow, pulling moan after moan from you. Had anyone been venturing these tunnels, they could have surely guessed what was happening, the wet noise of his mouth against your cunt and the way you weren’t even trying to muffle your cries of his name giving it away.

The way his tongue worked in vigorous movements, swirling swiftly around your clit and then down to your entrance again, had you shoving his head even closer to you, canting your hips against his face. The motion caused his sharp nose to bump against your clit, prompting a sharp whine to tumble from your lips.

You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his lips, feeling something warm and almost tangible, like liquid fire, steadily pooling in your core. You felt the pressure of it mounting higher and higher, like a coil threatening to snap, streams of pleasure climbing up your spine and turning your mind into mush. Your thoughts were hazy, like a fog had taken over your thoughts, and you could barely register that Aemond was murmuring something on your skin, but what you couldn’t tell.

Opening your eyes again, for you haven’t even realized they had fallen closed, you stared down at him in between your legs. He looked ethereal, his eye closed as he savored you, some strands of his normally neatly groomed hair messy from where your fingers had pulled. You wanted to see him, for him to gaze up at you, so you grasped his fingers which lay upon your thigh and gave them a little squeeze. His eye fluttered open almost lazily, violet hue half-lidded as he stared up at you. For just a single moment, your traitorous mind was reminded of Aegon, for Aemond looked like he was honestly drunk on your dripping cunt, like it was the finest of Dornish reds he had ever tasted, expression fogged up as if his mind was far away. The small pang of guilt you felt at the comparison was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure as he, upon you smiling down at him with quivering lips, wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked sharply.

Then that coil snapped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. That liquid warmth spread over your body like a tidal wave as your muscles trembled, and had he not been holding you up you’d have surely dropped to the ground, consuming every part of you and leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. He switched back to gentler motions as you rode out your high, eventually coming to a halt when you finally stopped twitching. He dropped your leg and climbed to his feet, a glazed sheen against his chin and lips as they found yours, the tangy taste of your cunt invading your senses as he kissed you softly, so very different from just moments ago.

Aemond pulled back, resting his forehead against your own, both of your breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

“I’d get on my knees every day if you asked it of me.” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered at his words, clenching in your chest.

As he embraced you, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his trousers, but as your hand started to untie its laces, he stopped you, intertwining your fingers together.

“Later.” he whispered, laying a soft peck on your lips “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Let me assist you, like you have done for me.” you pleaded, voice a bit hoarse from how loudly you had been chanting his name in pleasure.

“Tis’ but a small inconvenience. I will take care of it by myself later.”

You pulled back only slightly in his arms to look down between the two of you and couldn’t help but jest.

“It seems like quite a large inconvenience if you ask me.” you smirked.

Aemond stared at you, expression blank, for but a beat before bursting out laughing, and you decided right then and there, in his arms, that it was your favorite sound in the whole world. You’d get on dragonback and watch all of Westeros succumb to dragon fire if it meant he’d never stop laughing. You could only hope on bated breath your wedding arrived sooner rather than later, for you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

High Valyrian translations: - ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys - let it go, husband - issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla - he is just a little man, you are better than him (meant as in ‘it isn’t worth it’) - ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - my fierce dragon - ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio - my little dragon defending me from a little lion (‘little dragon’ meant affectionately while ‘little lion’ is meant with condescension) - ābrazȳrys - wife - iksā iā ōdres - you are a pain (meant as in ‘you are a menace’) - ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon - my name will be the only one you scream

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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somehow-a-human · 6 months

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Deciphering the Angelic Language

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Oh boy, I'm finally tackling a post on this! I haven't seen a ton of discussion about this or progress and I think that's because it's very complicated. I've done a bit of work on it and I'm hoping by sharing here we'll be able to combine our brainpower and make some more progress!

SO! Let's get into it shall we?

Let's start with what we've been told about the Angelic Language:

An SFX team member said that the pillars in heaven "don't translate into words" (so maybe it translates into something like hex? ASCII?)

A speaker at Ineffablecon confirmed that the language "contains meaning and can be decoded"

According to the Chapter 6 VFX Breakdown video, "The creative team broke down the symbols into an alphabet of about 140 runes"

I'm going to start with that last bullet point. An alphabet of about 140 runes, which math-wise narrows down what type of alphabet we might be looking at. Specifically, I think it might point to Consonant/Vowel Pairs, which gives you 126 characters, then add in numbers and punctuation, you've got about 140. That's my best guess anyway.

The next thing i did was look at the Heaven CCTV footage of Gabriel FRAME BY FRAME to analyze the runes on the screen in these scenes. I think this is the best place to start for a number of reasons, first of all, being that the CCTV footage seems to only use a subset of the runes that don't include and modifications like extra dots or ticks. I consider them base runes.

Secondly, the runes cycle through a lot of changes here so it's a great place to look for patterns, and find patterns I did.

I found 4 sets of runes that cycle sequentially through a repeating pattern. Okay I'm going to do my very best to explain this.

The above we will call set A

The above we will call set B

The above we will call set C

The above we will call set D

The runes on the CCTV will *almost* always follow the sequence of their set, and when they reach the end of the set, they're marked with one of the following first two sequences below which I'm referring to as "indicator runes" after which they either repeat the same set or a different set.

The only time the runes change in the middle of a sequence is when they're denoted by the third row indicator runes before the change occurs.

So there does at least seem to be some pattern to the runes, at least when it comes to the ones used in the CCTV footage. These however are only about half of the total number of runes, the other half are derived from these initial ones, and have additional tick marks and dots added to them to add some sort of meaning and differentiation.

These screen grabs are from the Chapter 6 VFX Breakdown video, and during the lead in to these animations I think I can also say that the language is probably read right to left, as that's the direction the runes scroll in on the screen.

These scenes are also shown with a certain glowing overlay, so I'm wondering if when we can figure the language out, if there is an interesting message here to be read as well.

Anyway! If you have any other info or this has sparked any ideas about the language for you please let me know! I will continue to play with it and update when I have anything of note! :)

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baiwu-jinji · 5 months

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TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian

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evanchantingpeters · 5 months

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Ad💗,” your friend’s name (Adria for full) glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on.

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?”

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?”

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face.

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

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loganelfreeces · 1 month

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Umemiya's Savior, Shitara Yuki, and the Old Furin (Knowledge and Theories)

Now, if anyone paid attention during the Umemiya's Backstory chapters (93-97), I'm sure we all noticed two important players in it.

Shitara Yuki, Umemiya's foster care worker who looks after him.

And the Mysterious Furin 3rd Year Student who saved Umemiya's life.

I've done a little data collecting, analysing and theorising about what knowledge we do have about these two and what information they can tell us about the old Furin before Umemiya was even in middle school. And potentially where they are now and how they could return in the future.

Shitara Yuki (設楽優希)

According to this Kanji translator, his name means:

設 means "establishment, provision, prepare" 楽 means "music, comfort, ease" (the tree radical in most Furin names is here, I think) 優 means "tenderness, excel, surpass, actor, superiority, gentleness" 希 means "hope, beg, request, pray"

Since we have more knowledge about Shitara, I'd say he's the easier puzzle to crack, so let's start with him.

We know he's a bit of a goofball who keeps a dorky, brave face for the kids to protect them from the violence surrounding Makochi at this time.

But he does deeply care about and is protective of the Furinen kids, scolding them when they worry him and kindly smiling when they need to talk some emotional stuff through.

What I'm most interested is what he says about Furin.

Notice how the other orphanage worker is talking about Furin and Shitara says "That stings", and she responds with "But I'm not talking about you?"

Then there's Mystery Student's comment about how "It's not like what happened during your generation".

Shitara Theories

From these comments we can all but confirm that Shitara was a Former Furin Student, likely while it was a delinquent school when the students were "a little more well-behaved" and didn't provoke the nearby teams. And Mystery Student could have known Shitara when he was a student, or heard second hand through Shitara about his time in the school.

Shitara could also be a glimpse into Umemiya's future; what happens after Umemiya gradutes? Does he stay involved in protecting the town? Or does he work in Furinen, being a good caretaker for kids like him? Or does he become a teacher in Furin, protecting the students?

But that's enough about Shitara. Now onto the main event:

Umemiya's Savior

We have comparatively less information about him, so I'm just analysing him to Hell and back.

What we can infer from the visual information is that he's a 3rd year student (so 17 or 18 when Umemiya is 9, making him 26 or 27 in canon time). He also wears a chain necklace with some kinda charm on the end. Less important, but he has lighter coloured short hair, but we all know hair is allowed to change in this world (Nirei, Kiryu, Umemiya).

I know a few people wondered if he could be Takiishi, but considering Takiishi is around the same age as Umemiya, it's unlikely.

First thing we can confirm is that he's strong. Specifically that he went to Furin because he wanted to get stronger "just like someone we both know", meaning himself and Shitara.

Second we can confirm that Savior was in Furinen for 6 months, 8 years before he met Umemiya (17 years ago in canon timeline). Savior would've been 9 or 10 years old at that time. Not only that, but Shitara kept an eye on this kid, the same way he's kept an eye on Umemiya since then. He also has a close enough relationship with Shitara to trust him to handle stuff he's ill equipped to manage.

Thirdly we can confirm that though Savior was one of the Furin Students wrecking the town, it comes from a place of wanting to protect it. He's trying to stop the teams and gangs from getting too big and becoming a problem for the local area.

So those are the concrete facts. Now for the

Savior Theories

Based on the information gathered, we can confirm that he's got either a role model or a peer he wanted to become stronger for, who Shitara also knew. This person was most likely also a Furinen orphan or a Furin student. And since Windbreaker does this pattern of Serious Guy & Silly Guy (Sakura & Nirei, Umemiya & Hiragi, Togame & Tomiyama, etc), I'm assuming the other student is the Silly to Savior's Serious. As of right now, we can't really make any more guesses about this person.

It's also highly likely that Savior has gone through something traumatic, in order to give him this outlook on Umemiya's situation. It likely influiences why he didn't try to talk Umemiya down from his suicidal thoughts until after Umemiya attempted it himself. He could well have been putting on an act of indifference though to, in a way, give Umemiya permission to make up his own mind about the situation without someone who "cared" about him getting in the way.

Based on the way that Shitara calls out Savior on the mess of the town and the idea that strength shouldn't be used in this way, and how Savior is trying to protect the town by taking down the smaller teams, part of why Savior could've wanted to be stronger is so he could physically defend the town and have what it takes to overcome life's difficulties.

Where Savior is now?

This is more thumbtacks and string zones, but I think he could be one of Suo's martial arts brothers, based on a connection @101suouexpressions pointed out in this fantastic meta here.

Or if I can be much more cracky with my headcanons, I think Savior could have trained Sakura or is the Weather contact in his phone, based on their Big Damn Heroes entrances when saving a weakling in an alleyway.

One thing I'm certain of is Savior is highly unlikely to be in Noroshi or one of the random towns folk. The character design and the significance to Umemiya's backstory even without a name reveal proves that this guy is too important to remain a shadow in Umemiya's past forever.

He, Shitara and the "Silly to Savior's Serious" character are most likely gonna turn up in an arc closer to Umemiya's graduation, when the fate of Bofurin's status as Defenders Of Makochi is under threat with Umemiya soon being forced out of the role by the Japanese schooling system.

Savior may turn up in a gang of his own that have been opperating under their own banner trying to protect somewhere near Makochi, but not near enough that Umemiya would randomly run into him and learn his name. Then they could be paralleled with the Noroshi, who are the Furin drop outs who never graduated and became trouble makers, focusing on this other team as being graduates of Furin who stop trouble.

Or if I could be self indulgent, I'd say that Savior is gonna turn up in the Suo Yakuza arc I imagine happening in the future (I'll make a post about this later.)

Guess we'll just have to wait and see what comes next.

#Windbreaker #Hajime Umemiya #Yuki Shitara #Meta/Theory #Headcanons With Logan

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sy-on-boy · 1 year

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(Potentially) new information from the Spy x Family exhibit book!

Okay, I’ve done some digging around and not gonna lie, some information in there has me excited. I can’t read Japanese so I took photos and put them through translate, so it’s not the most accurate, and please take this post with a grain of salt. Here we go!

Translations are more than welcome! Feel free to use these photos and feel free to DM me for clearer photos. I would also love to know what this all means haha. Japanese “raw” text is taken from Google translate and may be inaccurate to what is actually shown in the photos.

✩ The SxF world apparently has no Christmas!

I’ve heard claims of it, and here’s a picture I took.

“遠藤達哉先生コメント

こちらは冬の休載イラストです。電飾一個一個を北斗神拳ばりに連打して描きました。クリスマスっぽい雰囲気を出していますが、『SPY×FAMILY』の世界にクリスマスはありません。”

Google translate tells me that there’s no Christmas in the SxF world but he tried to create a Christmas-like atmosphere? Not sure but it would align with other people’s claims.

✩ Yuri apparently had a girlfriend in a rough draft!

This is Endo’s handwriting so the machine can’t recognise the words easily, but I think the woman in the bottom of Yuri’s sheet is his “girlfriend”? And Google translate tells me she’s Yuri’s “weakness” and Twilight might use her against Yuri / take advantage of the girlfriend? This is a very interesting idea that didn’t get used in canon (yet?). I think in canon, Yuri is popular but he’s too devoted to his sister. A new significant other of a prominent character would shake things up. Especially when it comes to Yuri, a member of the SSS.

By the way, Yuri’s potential designs are kind of cool. I like the ponytail.

✩ Apparently “Oscar” was one of Twilight’s potential names! + Early Twilight designs

I think we know Yor was originally short for Yorlanda (this is in the upper sheet). There’s a whole list of names beside Twilight and the name Oscar オスカー appeared frequently. There are also more names that I can’t decipher.

✩ Designs of some potential WISE agents! (And early Fiona)

Fiona’s sheet (next to Yuri’s) was titled “WISE spy (female)” and now we have a sheet titled “WISE spy (male)”. Was Fiona a placeholder spy that made it to the main cast? Or will this “male spy” end up having significance too? The two smaller heads at the left are apparently Twilight’s associates. Also, a Melinda sketch. Not gonna lie, the male spy feels kinda cute. Hope he’s not completely scrapped.

✩ Endo’s interview!

I feel like I should put this earlier but I was distracted with the Christmas / Yuri’s potential girlfriend thing. This is at the very end of the book. Apparently Endo was influenced by the invasion of Ukraine in 2022. This interview was apparently taken in March 2023. I think it’s fairly important so I’ll wait for a proper translation before saying anything else.

✩ Comments on Donovan, Melinda, Redacted, and Sylvia!

These two pages are together and I found it significant because Endo discusses the SxF themes. (My notes are not direct translations.) Apparently:

Sylvia’s scene in Mission 20 is Endo’s favourite scene, and he was looking at materials related to war for a long time and wondered if he could make use of it. [JP below]

とてもお気に入りのシーンです。「SPY×FAMILY」の連載とは関係無し昔から戦争に関する資料は色々見ていたので、多少はこの作品にも活かせているのかなーと。

Donovan’s statement of “in the end, people will never understand each other” (rough paraphrase) is the theme of the work. And Endo wanted to create a feeling of Donovan being the final boss. He didn’t plan on arranging it from the beginning, but he thinks the Desmonds are a good contrast to the Forgers. (Does this mean the Forgers think people will understand each other?) [JP below]

作品のテーマでもあるセリフですね。少しでもドノバンのラスボス感を醸し出せればいいなーと思いながら描きました。最初から意図して配置したわけではないですが、デスモンド家はフォージャーと良い対比になっているのかなと思います

The chapters on Twilight’s past coincided with the anime so Endo thought it was a good idea to explore Twilight’s past. [JP below]

アニメが始まるタイミングなのもあって、黄昏〉という人物を掘り下げる良い機会かなと思い過去編を入れました。あまり重たくなりすぎないように、でも伝えたいことは最低限伝えられるように、自分なりにバランスを取って描いたつもりです。

Melinda is described as “friendly” (?) even though she is dignified. A positive description of Melinda… interesting. What’s also interesting is that after she learns that Yor is the mother of the child who got into a fight with Damian, she “shows interest”. Melinda, what do you want with Anya? [JP below]

ダミアンの母で、東国元首相夫人。気品に溢れつつも、気さくな性格。ヨルが息子と喧嘩したアーニャの母親と知り、興味を示している。

I personally think these two pages contain hints about the mystery of the featured characters and would love to know what it means :D

✩ Early Yor and Bond!

There’s a lot more Yor but again the image limit is constricting me. I really like the Bond designs, they’re funny and he’s just a chonky little boi :)

✩ Comments on the panel of Twilight’s head in Yor’s lap!

“珍しいイチャイチャシーンです。ヨルさんは一年中酔っ払ってればいいのに”

Which apparently means: “a rare flirting (?) scene, I wish Yor was drunk all year long”

?!??! Twiyor?!! Hello!! I cannot resist mentioning this one, this is one of my favourite Twiyor / SxF scenes. Are we gonna get more drunk Yor? More Twiyor? More flirting? I’m excited now.

I’ve reached the image limit, so here’s all for this post for now! Translations are totally welcome and again I would love to know what this all means. I’m sorry if I accidentally said misleading information, so please tell me so I can correct it. Once again, don’t take my words as complete fact. The Yuri girlfriend thing is really surprising to me haha.

#spy x family #spy x family exhibition #yor forger #loid forger #yuri briar #fiona frost #bond forger #donovan desmond #sylvia sherwood #melinda desmond #twiyor #i guess. that comment seems shippy to me #long post

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 months

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Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 15

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Ale ran around the lawn of Crown Castle’s gardens, his fluffy fur similar to freshly-baked sponge cake flowing with his movement.

Kate: The weather is nice and it’s fun running around with Ale.

Ellis: Hehe, it is fun. Kate’s happy face is cute.

Liam: Since Kate and Ale came, we’ve had more time for stuff like this.

Ellis: Yeah, you’re right.

(Ever since I’ve started helping out with looking after Ale, I’ve naturally been able to spend more time with everyone outside of missions)

When I squinted at the bright sunlight, I caught a figure through a window.

(Ah, Roger!)

When our eyes met, I waved at him in his room.

(...I hope I’m not making some kind of face. Am I smile naturally?)

(Ah, but he could hear my heartbeat from there if he wanted to…Calm down, calm down)

I acted as if everything was the same as usual, but my mind was full of memories from last night.

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: If I were to fall in love, then I’d want us to fall together.

Because of that, I won’t ever confess that I like you until you believe that love exists.

~~ End flashback ~~

(I did pretty much just admit that I liked Roger)

By the time I noticed how the drug named Roger made its way into my body, it was already too late.

However…it didn’t matter how much I liked Roger if it was unrequited.

(Yeah. I want Roger to like me back)

Kate: …Looks like I’m more selfish than I thought.

Liam: Hehe, you’re talking out loud. Is it about Roger?

Kate: …How did you know?

Liam: If anyone didn’t, then they’re seriously ill. They should be sent to a hospital for being so clueless.

(I guess it’s that obvious…)

I looked away in embarrassment and Liam smiled beautifully like a rose.

Kate: I boasted that I’d be able to teach him about romantic love, but ended up falling for him…I’m so frustrated and embarrassed.

I don’t know why I can freely admit my feelings to anyone but Roger himself.

Liam: It can’t be helped. The human heart’s the most unpredictable thing in the world. It’d be so much easier if your heart followed your brain.

Liam’s eyes were downcast as he smiled. It felt like he wanted to abandon everything, like he was touching death’s fingers.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world?

You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...The more I learned about the Cursed, the less I was able to answer the question)

Alec and Roger’s past, Lance’s death, Ellis who was next handed the Briar Bushes curse, and Liam before me.

(Values change so rapidly that it’s puzzling)

(But I shouldn’t stop thinking about it)

Liam: I’d like to see it. Roger being so smitten with you, I mean.

I’d like to see it too.

I hope it happens.

I’ll do my best. +4 +4

Kate: Then I’ll do my best!

Liam: Yeah, that’s the spirit. Unlike me, Roger’s a rational one. That’s why it’d be interesting to see someone like him be madly in love.

Kate: Hehe, was that a wicked look just now?

Liam: I’m cursed with being led by my own curiosity. So you’ll have to excuse my wicked interest.

(I don’t know if you can make curses disappear)

(I wonder if that’s a good thing. However…)

Kate: I promise when Roger’s smitten with me, I’ll let you know.

Sometimes it’s the small promises that are important to live for.

Liam: I’m looking forward to it.

As I smiled back at Liam, Ale and Ellis came back from playing.

(Ah, that’s right)

Kate: Um, do you know a place where I can get some beautiful flowers? I thought you two would be familiar with what’s popular.

Liam: Of course, but are they a present for someone?

Kate: You heard about how a Cursed One named Lance died the other day, right? I heard he was buried at a public cemetery and wanted to go leave some flowers.

(Lance won’t ever come back…so I hope he can rest peacefully)

Ellis: Then how about sharing the flowers from Victor’s garden? He grows flowers as a hobby. I saw him walking around with flowers this morning and I’m sure he’ll share them if you ask.

Kate: Hehe, I wasn’t aware. I’ll go ask him then.

Liam: That’s fine, but I’m worried about you going to the cemetery all by yourself. Lately, young people have been getting attacked or going missing.

Ellis: Do you mean the incidents Victor and Will are investigating?

(I do remember the barkeep saying something like that)

Unfortunately these incidents weren’t uncommon in Britain given its large population.

There is as much darkness as there are people.

(It could be related to how the girl Lance liked was killed)

Liam: I wish I could go with you but I have rehearsal…

Ellis: Sorry. I have work at Jude’s company.

Liam: Ah, Harrison might be free this afternoon.

Kate: I can’t be a bother to everyone! I’ll be fine going alone. I’ll just take Crown’s carriage to the cemetery and come back before it gets dark.

Liam: Oh? Then I guess we don’t need to worry too much.

Ale: Arf arf.

Kate: Ah, seems like Ale will be coming with me.

Ellis: Then take care of Kate, Ale.

Ale: Woof.

Victor had gladly shared his flowers with me and now Ale and I were being rocked around in a carriage.

When I glanced out the window, the carriage stopped not too far from the cemetery.

(Huh? But the cemetery’s still a bit of a ways down)

The coachman got off his seat, opened the door, and signed to me.

(“The road ahead…is too narrow for a carriage to take to the cemetery…”)

I somehow managed to read the sign language that I had just recently learned and tore a page out of my notebook to write a reply.

“Thank you. Please wait here, I’ll be back soon.”

I passed the paper to the coachman and alighted the carriage.

The sky started turning red as dusk approached.

(The cemetery’s really close. I’ll be in and out in no time)

We walked down the path leading to the cemetery.

For a while, the only sound was the grass being blown by the wind until—

Ale: Arf arf arf.

Ale, who was walking ahead of me, suddenly turned and started barking.

Kate: Ale, what’s…

The bouquet fell from my arms.

I felt a cloth smelling like chemicals press against my nose and lost consciousness—

Elbert: …

Elbert wandered around the castle looking for something, his face paler than ever.

Then—

Roger: Yo, El. Have you seen the ‘lil lady around? I wanted to get her to do some work for me, but haven’t seen her for a while.

Having found who he was looking for, Elbert rushed over to Roger.

Elbert: Roger. Listen to me calmly. It’s possible that Kate was kidnapped.

Roger: Kate? What do you mean?

Ellis: What you just said, is it true…?

They turned around and saw Jude and Ellis who had just come back from work.

Jude: The princess got kidnapped? By who?

Elbert: I’m not sure. Earlier in the garden, a coachman came up to me looking terribly disturbed. He said that he dropped Kate off not far from the cemetery, but no matter how long he waited, she never came back. He went to go look for her, but only found Ale. Here, he gave me this.

He handed Roger a piece of paper with “I’ll be back soon” written in Kate’s handwriting.

Roger: …

Ellis: Kate wanted to go leave flowers on the grave of the Cursed One who passed a few days ago. She said she’d take a carriage and be back before sundown, so she’d be fine.

Jude: That’s Saint Cemetery. Got a road so narrow that carriages pass through. Somethin’ must’ve the moment she got out.

Elbert: We don’t know what happened, but we can’t waste any time. What do we do, Roger?

Roger: …

There was nothing reflected in Roger’s eyes.

Elbert: …Roger?

Elbert waved his hand in front of Roger’s face and the latter blinked in surprise.

Roger: …

Ellis: Roger, are you okay?

Roger: Yeah…sorry. Just…a little shaken.

Elbert and Ellis: …(°ロ°)

Roger took a deep breath as if to calm himself, eyes now focused.

Roger: This likely has something to do with the recent incidents. Let’s tell Victor first and then gather the rest of Crown.

When news of Kate’s disappearance broke, all of Crown assembled.

Victor: Her Majesty gathers information from the masses. If Kate was kidnapped, then it’s believed to be related to the incidents.

Ellis: …So it is related to the incidents targeting young people. But why?

Jude: Human traffickin’, kidnappin’, murder for fun, there’s all sorts of reasons.

Victor: As you’re aware, Will and I have been looking into the culprit. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to identify them yet. However, based on where the victims have gone missing, we’ve been able to identify possible bases.

He spread a map of London out on the table.

Four areas were circled in red—

Victor: If Kate was kidnapped, she could be in any of these locations.

Roger: …

Victor: We don’t have time to waste. Crown will split into four teams and search each location.

Jude: I’ll be collectin’ a huge reward when I find the princess.

Jude: You’re up, ya dumb dog. Lead us to our dumb Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: Ale, I’m counting on you.

Ale: Woof.

A team of Roger, Jude, and Ale boarded a carriage and were now passing through a dense forest.

— Suddenly, the piercing sound of horses neighing was heard and the carriage screeched to a stop.

Roger: What the…?

Nica: Wie geht es dir (How do you do), Crown? Pardon me.

There was a polite knock on the carriage door and one of “Vogel’s” twins boarded the carriage.

Roger: You…

Nica: I just saw the Queen’s aide looking pale*. I heard Robin has gone missing?

Roger: If you already know, then get out. We don’t have time for you.

Nica: Don’t want to. Did the good doctor forget that we’re here to deepen our friendship? I’m telling you I’ll help you. I might be of some use?

Jude: …Oi, quack. We gotta move.

Roger: If you don’t wanna get kicked out then behave, older twin.

Nica: Allerdings (Of course), I’ll behave.

The carriage started moving again—

Only Nica was happily petting Ale in his lap, as if he were on his way to a holiday resort.

*Alternatively, red with anger. 血相を変えた was used, which in a literal sense, means ‘to change facial expression or color’. It’s contextual and in this case, Victor could be either.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil roger route

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runabout-river · 11 days

Text

Thoughts on JJK chapter 269 (spoilers)

(TCB still doesn't have their own translation but some parts of this need to be cross checked with more translations. I'll do that tomorrow.)

We start the chapter with an ominous flashback that brings Mei Mei to an old woman before we make a hard cut back to where we left off last chapter

To my pleased surprise Yuta managed to get his body back though truth be told I did NOT understand the minute details on how that happened. Need to read up on that.

Megumi still feels the aftereffects of Gojo's UV that had crippled Sukuna's DE. This could mean Megumi himself will have trouble expanding his domain but would that be a short term problem or possibly even a long term problem 👀

(Way back when, I had also made a speculative post that Gojo's UV that hit Megumi's soul might've left Megumi with Gojo's ultimate knowledge from all his life but that doesn't seem to be a thing in the end.)

The first years are told not to feel guilty about anything and to be teenagers again. This echoes what Gojo said in the beginning on how children should be able to enjoy the spring of their youth.

We learn then how Yuta survived: because of Rika who independently kept his body alive. When Kenjaku's CT burned out after Yuta used Gojo's DE, he should've died because he couldn't keep the connection to Gojo's body.

Kenjaku shouldve had the same problems but they speculate that he circumvented that with barrier techniques.

Now comes the part where I need better translations because what's said here is too confusing: which CT recovered and was Yuta now dead or unconscious when Kenjaku's CT burned out?

The next question is: how did his consciousness end up back in his body? All this time I thought Kenjaku transferred his entire brain from body to body but that's not the case apparently? 😄

Also, the biggest question right now: what happened to Gojo's body?

I made a speculative post on how this body hopping through Kenjaku's CT might actually end up reviving Gojo.

The main point for that theory is that Kenjaku revives the bodies he transfers into. Second and third points are that the revival is a one time thing and isn't bound to the continuous use of the CT (speculation) and that Yuta "dies" through the end of the CT and through other means

Say what you will but this about Miguel and Larue was extremely funny but also give Larue some respect, Sukuna was in love with him for a few seconds.

The part where everyone discusses their battle strategies is interesting. Gege does sth here I have done while writing fanfics as well: acknowledging how varied and complicated the choices in the plot where and have the characters discuss it.

This gives the chain of events that did end up happening in the end a grounded feel and here it also gives the characters room to interact with each other.

My complaint about these scenes are that they downplay Sukuna's threat and power

Talking about what they should've done differently and how they could've won more easily is ok, but for me this entire conversation was too couched in "we won because of course we did, this was easy but it could've been easier"

Higuruma is alive though but I had that on my bingo card already, his apparent death was pretty vague

It's a funny reveal how the watch room was Rika this entire time, and apparently Yuta/Maki is basically canon

We also learn that it was indeed Miwa who clung to Maki and used Simple Domain against Sukuna to stop his MS. Todo managed to get her and Maki out with his CT at the end.

Without Ui Ui the battle would've been lost, so he really is the MVP

Now comes the part about the New Shadow Style: Simple Domain that was interesting but also added unneeded elements into the story this late in the manga

Some parts of this was mentioned previously like how you made a Binding Vow to learn NSS. There was a woman in a wheelchair once that resembled Miwa in parts who was probably one of those people who's lifespan was sapped away by the Shadow Head.

But did we really need to give this so much panel time? I guess with the mention of Tengen (who was apparently the one who told the good guys who the Shadow Head was) we'll go back to what happened to her and the merger in the next chapter.

What we also got was commentary on how JJ society hindered itself from becoming better because of the greed of people who wanted more power.

Mei Mei speaks of sorcerers who could've survived with Simple Domain and she probably means Nanami. Their stories in Shibuya acted like foils to each other (without that or them being in conflict with each though) so it's relevant to Nanami what she said here.

Overall I think some parts of this chapter should've been cut so close to the finish, especially when this really is the end of the manga. I still have hope for Part 2 though, this chapter was (as I expected) ambiguous about that happening or not.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro megumi #yuji itadori #gojo satoru #nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #yuta okkotsu #kenjaku #meta #sukuna #higuruma hiromi #mei mei #ui ui #jjk tengen #nanami kento

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romanshomeonwattpad · 4 months

Text

Girl in New York | 6

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au!

”__"= Y/N

masterslist | next chapter | last chapter

sypnosis - you overhear Art’s friends talking shit about you.

warnings - angst, none

author s note - hope you guys enjoy, i have two more chapters planned after this. let me know how ya’ll feel about this story so far!

word count - 2k

You snatched Art’s sucker from his mouth. It was warm on your tongue, earning a look of pure irritation. “It tastes sweeter when it’s yours.”

Apparently he was a super genius at math, so Art offered to help you tutor for your upcoming math final. Although you denied his assistance, he initiated, and you couldn’t turn down spending more time with him. It was peculiar. Around him, you were able to act like your true self. A tiny part of you hoped he felt the same.

Birds chirped above as the wind gently blew his hair away from his blue hues. The cherry flavor slowly dissolved into your tongue, Art snatching the lollipop back from you and popping it back into his mouth. A giggle left your lips, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he chuckled.

He was sat on the bench, whilst your bum was placed on the table. Art looked up at you before taking the sucker out and sipping his coffee. “You should put your hair up more often.”

Your cheeks grew hot, “I look like an egg with my hair up.”

“I kinda see it, actually.”

“Stop,” you snatch his pop, sticking it back into your mouth. His smile twitched at your action, but then grew.

“Your parents are sweet.”

“My dad thinks you’re a good looking dude—and my mom won’t stop talking about how cute your girlfriend is,” Art studied you as you continued to speak, sitting up from the table and standing onto your feet.

“She even said ‘you should be more like her __’. Less revealing and more polite.”

“It’s an act. As soon as we’re alone, she gets high on coke and complains about every single person she meets. She said you were a lousy slut that count through a straight shot—and something else..”

Strikes of irritation hit you. “Art….what the fuck?”

“You flirt with me right in front of her, _ _. I can’t blame her for not exactly liking you.”

You scoff, “So what? I’m a lousy slut? I thought you said I was yours?”

You made sure to emphasize the last few words in a mocking tone, causing Art to grind his jaw. He stood up as well. “Chill, _ _. You know people say shit when they’re…”

Right. It was meaningless sex talk.

It never mattered to you. What anyone said or thought about you. But when it came to Art—maybe it did. You both had an understanding. He wasn’t supposed to judge you. You weren’t a saint, but agreeing with her calling you a lousy slut ticked you off. He acted as if it didn’t take two to tango. Perhaps this whole infatuation you had for him was one sided. Now you weren’t saying you liked him, but maybe…..

……maybe you were interested.

“So you wouldn’t care if I slept with other guys?”

Something shifted in the air. Art was far away. Physically, he was standing right in front of you. A foot away from one another. But emotionally, he was miles out. You stared at him, still holding the sucker in your hand. For some reason you were clutching it.

He wasn’t looking at you, keeping his eyes on the ground. The leaves were brittle and broken due to the season—pavement cracked from constantly being walked on for years. Kids giggled in the background, contrasting to the dim atmosphere that was created between the both of you.

“Art?”

“I heard you. And no, I wouldn’t.”

You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t stop your lips from moving. Usually when you grew angry, you brain vomitted. “Cool. I’m actually thinking about hooking up with this one dude.”

Art pressed his lips together, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Wear protection. Wouldn’t want you to catch anything.”

“You think so highly of me, Art. Who’s to say I haven’t been fucking some dude already?”

His eyes darkened. He then shrugged his shoulders.

“In that case, how about we tag team you? Show you how we treat real bitches.” His tone was frustrated and rough. He had never used it before.

You tossed the sucker onto the ground, stepping on it before sending him a nasty look. Art clenched his jaw as he watched you turn around and storm off.

hey. its _ _.

i can’t make it to practice this week.

Art responded almost immediately.

That’s fine.

After that, a couple days passed without anything eventful happening. You focused on your final exams, and ended up doing pretty well on the math one. Art helping you out seemed to make a major impact on your grade. As for the rest of your classes, you managed to pass. Your parents were pleased so that’s what mattered.

On a random Tuesday, one of your classmates—Gen, asked to grab boba with you. Your favorite shop was down the street, so you offered to meet her. You decided to walk, strolling through the busy streets of your neighborhood. Ice began to freeze over the poles, snow beginning to fall during the night and reach up to being a foot tall. But you absolutely adored it. In any situation, you’d rather be too cold than hot.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of your black leather jacket, you texted Gen that you arrived. She said that she was going to be a half hour late because of traffic. You replied that it was no worries and you’ll order your drinks beforehand since it was pretty packed.

As you stepped into line, you earned a few stares so you decided to go onto your phone. But then you heard a familiar voice a few spaces ahead of you. “She practically throws herself at Art. I think it would be the best choice if he just canceled their lessons and booted her trashy ass to the curb.”

You froze in place. Tiffany….was talking about you…to who?

At your favorite fucking boba shop.

And the things she was saying….

Who the fuck did she think she is?

An unfamiliar male voice sounded. “Sounds like fatherless behavior. He’s probably an immigrant running a hotel or something.”

Your blood ran cold. Fists balling at your sides, you tried your best to keep calm. Whenever someone had thrown a nasty curse or two at you, it was whatever. You didn’t really care about yourself, nor what others thought about you. But when it came to your family, war was always an option. And seeing as Tiffany seemed to ‘ love ‘ your parents, showed how right Art had been.

She was fake.

“Could explain the way she acts. I mean—you should’ve seen what her mother wear wearing. It looked like she shopped at the McDonald’s down the stre—“

Your patience had snapped.

Stepping out of line, your heart beat thudded in your ears as your chest raced with anger. It all happened so fast. You heard laughter before interrupting their dick fest. “What did you just say?”

You had it in the bag. Confrontation was never a problem for you. Whenever you had something on your mind, nothing could’ve gotten in your way to make sure that person learned not to fuck with you. Whether it was a three hundred pound man built from pure muscle, or a 6 foot 3 famous basketball player. If they pissed you off, they were in for it.

So you opened your mouth, ready to curse Tiffany Barbie Bitch out. Some dude with ginger hair and beady little green eyes looked at you with a surprised look, but you didn’t pay him any mind. The blonde haired girl widened her eyes, a crimson blush covering her cheeks. “_ _. Um, hey.”

Even though that cunt had been the one to initially piss you off, that wasn’t the icing on the cake.

No.

What rubbed salt into the would was the fact that Art was also standing right there, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

It was as if time had frozen. His eyes bored into yours, fists shaking at his sides as the flesh turned white from the brutal grip. Art’s face flushed.

You froze.

It was as if the lump in your throat grew with every second. Your palms were soaked with sweat. Everything began to hit you all at once. You’re family were laughing stock to his friends. You knew Art was incredibly talented and maintained a better lifestyle than you…and was more fortunate—but you told him your family situation that in confidence.

He wasn’t your friend. He was your fuck buddy. Well, was. The only thing he was after this was dead to you.

Art didn’t give a flying fuck about you.

“Your parents are sweet.”

Fucking dick that can’t last ten seconds.

“Least you got to hear the truth,” Tiffany shrugged her shoulders, earning a snicker from the random ginger beside Art.

You narrowed your eyes. The nerve she had on her. If you hadn’t been fucking her boyfriend—you would’ve broke her crooked nose.

You looked at Art. His eyes were trained on the ground, body stiff as a statue.

He didn’t say anything.

So you left.

Fuck Art Donaldson.

He was fucking dead to you.

You ended up re-scheduling with your classmate. A week had passed without a call or text from Art. You had already smoked five packs of cigarettes in that time frame. This sudden funk you got into wasn’t because of anyone, including the golden haired boy that suddenly infiltrated your mind. Your conquests didn’t affect your personal life. It was probably because you had nothing to do now since it was Spring Break.

An old friend that you used to take tennis classes with had reached out to you. She was playing for a highly exclusive tournament that apparently costs like two-hundred per ticket—but offered two free tickets. In case you wanted to bring a plus one. And only one person seemed to pop into your mind.

When the date came, which was two days later, anxiety pooled within your belly as you you drove into the parking lot. Your plus one had told you beforehand that they were going to meet you in there. Teeth chewing on your lower lip, you hopped out the car and made your way towards the large stadium. It was a large grey building with an open surface, check in lines fully stacked back to back.

A certain sign said V. I. P in bold letters. Usually, if you came with a free ticket—it classified as a special pass. So instead of having to wait in this long ass line,you decided to go up to the door. A security guard with shades on and a brown polo shirt steps before you. “Players only.”

Your brows raise. “It says V.I.P.”

“Exactly.”

“Look, I’m not playing, but I know—“

His voice cuts you off again, with a dismissing tone to it. “Players only.”

Your eyes widen at his lack of empathy or common manners. “Listen here, buddy. Why don’t I play your gigantic as—“

“She’s with me.”

You froze in your tracks, heart knocking against your ribs like a caged bird. Dread washes over you as you refuse to turn around.

The guard lowers his sunglasses, stepping towards the source of the voice behind you. Gulping, your eyes flee to Art, who faced the security card with a calm expression. He had looked as handsome as he ever did, black hoodie thrown over his head and a pair of grey sweaters hanging loosely off his sculpted figure.

“You playing tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes widen. Art was playing tonight? You didn’t know that.

Big dude stepped aside, but not before lowering his shades once again and sending Art a rugged thin eyed look. The blonde walked past him without sparing a glance, unlike you, who flipped off the security guy. “Yeah—you better let me in. Who wears shades inside—?”

Art grabbed you by the arm, dragging you inside the hall the door lead to. It was vacant, most likely everyone in their own rooms. Your eyes narrowed at him as he shushed you with brows facing downwards.

“Don’t shush me fuckface,” you spat out, feeling a wave of pure irritation roll through you. Art pressed his lips together as you brain vomited all over him. “You’re fucking fake. The worst idea I ever made was letting you put that Gingivitis dick inside me.”

His eyes blinked in anger, yet disbelief at your words. You tore your arm from his grip, ignoring the way his baby blue eyes drew you in.

“You gonna say anything?”

His fists were balled again. The sound of his raspy breathing was the only noise in the otherwise death-silent room. A gnawing feeling radiated from your guts as Art cast his eyes to the ground.

For the first time, as you looked at him, something in your heart twitched. He had looked better than ever, skin glowing and not a wrinkle in sight on his perfectly sculpted face. It confused you, since you had lost sleep these past few days. Perhaps your insights were correct.

Perhaps Art hadn’t thought about you at all. Except for when he needs a good laugh. His lack of words made your skin crawl before he releases a small breath.

A monotone I’m sorry leaves those lips that you’ve kissed only a few times.

That’s all.

And then silence filled the space between the both of you. It was the true answer you needed. You weren’t sure why he had even helped you get in. You wish you never saw him again, but that would be unlikely for today. The disrespect he exhibited had thrown you into a messy loop of making excuses. But today it had been ended.

When you turned around, his eyes lifted off the floor.

You darted a menacing glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him once last time. Those orbs were cloudy. His chest heavily rose and fell as you threw him a sad smile. “Me too.”

And then you turned around, never looking back.

#smut #mike faist fic #mike faist fanfic #mike faist smut #mike faist #patrick zweig challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #tashi donaldson #donaldson #Mike faist imagines

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