#the daily life of a deity sucks
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Lightning, water, and fire! Like forever before the plot starts. By the time the plot starts, the lightning and fire deities have been subjected to punishment by the two gods that picked them.
Oh (the fire deity) is first to be punished. They basically decide that since they're going to live for a long time, gotta set some long time goals! And they opt to be the wrath of the gods since most of the other deities are too 'soft' in their opinion. So Oh just. Smites humans. This isn't really a /good/ thing and in their defense mentally, they do it to help Ymber since he's the softest of them all. So their punishment by the gods is to be split in two, effectively halving the power of one into two. (Now they are in a male and a female body and use both male and female pronouns apart since they together make they but apart it feels weird to be they. But prior to the split they use they/them. Also the split bodies go by the names Ohiwe and Ohime.)
Fulj is the second to be punished. She falls in love with a mortal woman and that is a crime according to the gods. Mortals and immortals are not to be together and it will only bring suffering to both sides. So her punishment is her memories of the woman are stripped and her body basically broken to the point she can't remain physical all the time.
Ymber, unfortunately, is the one who blames himself for the discoveries and punishments. If he had only tried to restrain Oh more then maybe they would have chilled out and stopped before being punished. If he had only tried to persuade Fulj to not continue seeing the mortal woman so often perhaps she wouldn't have been punished. So he's just increasing the guilt on his shoulders every day that he remains unpunished since the elder gods have both laid down to rest. They can't enforce their laws anymore and none of the deities are keen on harming one another at this point. They just want to continue existing in peace.
#the daily life of a deity sucks#and then ymber falls in love with a human and is like welp this sucks and i understand fulj now#i also would have accepted the punishment for this#and fulj doesnt even remember the woman she was punished for and doesnt remember how she was before#so she is like hey ymber please just go and kiss the weird human i dont even like him but youre being mean by not kissing him#and ymber is just having the worst time of his life being encouraged by someone who used to be so happy#who he also encouraged to be happy once upon a time#also ohiwe and ohime pop up in the water city to bully ymber sometimes but its still in the way of#dude we like you please grow a spine its been a thousand years please grow a backbone and tell us to piss off#and he never tells them to piss off#also fulj has a long braid here but you cant really see it#and she loves to braid ymbers hair and he gets to braid hers when shes giggling and chatting about love#and a short while after the punishment fulj chops the braid off and ymber is like welp my friend is officially gone#and then he cuts his own hair and leaves to go develop his city alone in seclusion#and he sometimes just cuts it really short because hes still sad and soggy and thinks of fulj braiding his hair#and then she shows up one day when hes debating how long its getting and she smiles#and tells him he looks good with longer hair#so he kinda keeps it a messy short then it gets to be medium and he decides he can survive with medium but he couldnt do long again#but once again fulj is the reason for his life choices (and guilt)#also before anyone asks yes all the deities have a collar#its very important actually that they are collared its lore information thanks#and for what it matters - after oh is split both forms are just as tall#theres just two of them at half power but they are both tall
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The names of the Gods
I vaguely promised an essay on my thoughts on the names of the Gods about a week ago or so, and thus I shall deliver :)
A few months ago when I was scrolling on TikTok (as one does), I came across a video by @olympianbutch talking about invocations in traditional Hellenic Polytheist prayers. The whole video was good, so I'll link the video (for the invocation): [here], and you can watch it all for yourselves. (And you should watch the two videos before it, they were equally good and educational). In it, he explained why we start prayers by saying the Gods' names: "This is because the ancient Greeks believed that when you said a God's name, They went: [insert action of dramatically turning around here]." Now, this was definitely funny, but once the full implications of that statement sunk in, it permanently changed how I viewed my own praying (in a good way, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this thing based off of the video).
Now, the idea that your speech can call a God to you is something incredibly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly powerful. It means that the very second you state Their name, They can see your whole situation, and respond accordingly. I think this is something good to keep in mind, especially as the influence of 2020 witchtok/pagantok fades out (I was deep in this back then, so I'm speaking from that perspective [at some point in the future I'm doing a ramble on this as well, and how it impacted my early worship + relationships with the Gods {no hate if you were there too, I think it lowkey sucked for all of us}]). I used to feel really nervous that I didn't have a Real Connection with the Gods because I wasn't constantly hearing Their voices in my head, or having some kind of miraculous encounter with Them on a daily basis, and I used to base a lot of the idea of a "successful prayer life" around those encounters. However, since hearing of the concept of the Gods seeing you when their names are called, I've found my worries about that trickling away. When I pray, whichever God I'm praying to is there, and I can simply revel in the knowledge that I am standing (or sitting, or kneeling) in the presence of the God(s). The Gods are ever-present to begin with, but by calling upon Them in prayer, I am able to be face-to-face with Them in a more meaningful way, even if it's not something immediately sensible.
Beyond my prayer life, I've also found myself a lot more thoughtful about when I say the Gods' names. For deities that I worship frequently like Hermes or Dionysos, I'll be a bit more lax. I'll call upon Them for little things, like seeing a little crystal phallus in a metaphysical shop, or praying for safe travels. For deities that I once worshiped closely, like Artemis, I'll call upon Her in praise of the beauty of nature, especially if it's getting Real Beautiful or Real Cool. And even for deities that I rarely worship except on feasts, like Zeus, I'll call upon Him in praise of good things that fall under His domain, as a "I know it was You doing this!" kind of thing.
Anyways, this ended up a bit more rambly than I initially intended it to be, but I hope that somewhere within this ADHD-addled writing there was something of substance that's useful to you in your practice :) The Gods are always there, something something, always good, something something, I love Them.
#no seriously this ended up much more rambly than i intended#but i hope this provided something to think about at least#dionysian#dionysus#dionysos#hellenic polytheism#hellenic polytheist#dionysus deity#dionysos deity#hellenic pagan#hellenic gods#hellenism#paganblr#helpol
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Helping my divine friend with something although she could help herself because I’m such a nice guy but I really misjudged things and now they go wrong
Male Reader x Jeon Jiwoo
Length: 3515 words
Tags: experimental sex, Jiwoo wants it all, goddess!Jiwoo, awkward sex, 69, riding, overstimulation, there is a lot of pressure on you btw, missionary, creampie, heavy orgasm, a reference no one will get, seriously if you get the reference I'll buy you a cookie, technically virgin sex, the background switches a couple of times, tit sucking, you might crack a smile at times, pussy eating, sexpert!you / playful!Jiwoo
TW: I edited this... but it still is chaos deluxe, so beware
Inspiration: the ideas/pic send by @existslikepristin
Credit: @existslikepristin for submitting a crazy good request!
(A/N: I had fun writing this chaos and I hope you have some fun reading it. Jiwoo of Kard was definitely not on my mind, so it was fun seeing her submitted. Go Kard!)
“I need your help with something.”
You quickly turn your head to the far end of your bed. There she is again, this time with silver hair and a red dress that loosely covers the most intimate parts of her body, but leaves a lot of room for her pale skin to shine through. Today she overdid it though. In your humble opinion, her marble colored skin looks like a newly printed sheet of paper you can write on, and those large, obsidian earrings give off a ridiculous contrast to all the white.
“Why the fuck do you need my help?” you sigh.
Your question is absolutely warranted. Jiwoo, like a lot of the friends you manifested in your time in solitude, is a Goddess, with power beyond the known natural barriers. Unlike the strong Matthew, the clever Somin or crazy J, all elaborate figments of your imagination, she seemingly has no limits. To your knowledge, she can do anything, thus there is no need to ask you for help.
“Well,” Jiwoo explains herself while your focus shifts back to the magazine in your hands, “it’s an activity that needs at least two. Can’t have sex alone, you know?”
You furrow your eyebrows. but force yourself not to look back up again. Jiwoo saying weird things is nothing new to you at this point. Most of the time, she is just playing pranks on you. She knows that the word ‘sex’ should get a reaction out of you, no matter the context, but you won’t give her this victory. Defying this Goddess has been a daily activity for you since Jiwoo decided to become proactive in your lazy life.
“Not really,” you respond with a deep breath. “You can have sex on your own. Go masturbate or get a dildo or two, no need for me to be around.”
“But I already did that!” Jiwoo blurts out and tears away the magazine. She leans towards you, face to face. You can’t avoid her diamond eyes, mostly because you don’t want to stare down the deity’s cleavage.
“It’s boring, I want to try something new.”
Now you’re really surprised.
“Wait, you never had sex before? Like with another person?”
“Nope,” Jiwoo shakes her head and straightens her posture again, “Too busy.”
“Too busy doing what?” you ask and immediately regret it. The more attention you give her now, the more likely it is for her not to go away and leave you alone.
“Too busy testing every ice cream flavor and comparing them. Shit, there are so many of them.”
You stare at her, disappointed, confused, annoyed. Jiwoo notices. With quick blinks she tries to make her eyes appear puppy-like, but even through divine powers she could never pull it off. Something about her appearance is always so-not-cute, which is a bummer because cute girls are your type.
“Something inside me—” you sigh and carelessly throw the magazine over your shoulder, “—can kinda relate, but at the same time, like, just go out now. I don’t see you eating ice cream now, so you can just seduce some guy at a bar or even offer yourself. No need for me to do it.”
“So you’re saying I should prostitute myself?” Jiwoo acts infuriated, a theatrical hand on her chest, “What if I catch a disease, you bastard!”
“For fuck sake, as if you need to worry about that.”
“But I just want to do it with someone I know.”
“Me? Why?”
“Stop asking questions!” Jiwoo shouts and shoves you down to your bed. Her eyes turn white in fury, maybe you have stretched her patience a bit too far. If you are honest to yourself, you don’t really have a good reason to reject her. You don’t want to? Well yes, but actually no. Even inhibitions because she is something extraterrestrial would usually not keep you from getting laid (not like it happens all of the time, you don’t get busy with humans that often either). Maybe it’s because you don’t want to risk the friendship? Were you always this complicated?
“Okay fine, fine, I’ll do it,” you sigh and Jiwoo’s face lights up.
“Awesome! I want to try a lot of things, so we should get started.”
Jiwoo smiles brightly. Her red leather clothes glow for a second before they disappear and she stands before you fully nude. Turn your head to the side to hide your blush. She has no clue.
“Slow down, slow down. Dammit, Jiwoo, I still don’t know what you want to try—”
“Everything.”
You glare back at her—her tits, nice handfuls—her face, actually, you wouldn’t get distracted by—tits, they look very soft—pinchable cheeks, no red on them at all. She lacks any embarrassment.
“W-well,” you stammer, eye contact fragile, impossible even, “there are so many things you c-can do during sex o-or with the partner, we won’t be able to do them all. I-I could walk you through like a basic routine?”
“Aw, but only if we do the rest later, ‘kay?”
Another attempt at puppy eyes, but this time you don’t even notice them. The surprisingly dark areolae around Jiwoo’s nipples is a lot better at getting your attention than whatever her eye color is right now.
“F-fine. No need to roleplay romantic stuff so uhm let’s just get to oral, so we can learn, I mean you can learn some stuff, uhm.”
Words have never been this hard to find, formulate, fuck, you can’t even swallow properly. This woman really is without shame. She snaps her fingers and your clothes disappear in a beam of light as well. Speaking of light, the entire room becomes a lot brighter from seemingly nowhere. You try to find the source but all you find is Jiwoo’s ass as she playfully spins around.
“I created some extra light so I can see all things properly. No need to search for your shadow, there is none.”
She says it so casually, like she is insane. The insane one however is you. You nod like a brainless idiot like you didn’t have any reservations about this beforehand. It’s too late to turn back now.
“Let’s start, uhm, with uhhhh, a 69 position. Basically—” you hesitate for a moment and look intently at Jiwoo’s cleanly shaven slit, “—I lay down and you get on top of me. Your face is at my crotch and you, like, do the same. Viceversa."
“Oh, okay~”
The two of you get into position. You feel your hardening shaft rub over Jiwoo’s soft cheek and her thick, almost trunky thighs press on your own cheek. The all-encompassing light works wonders, you can easily see everything about Jiwoo’s pussy, although she is definitely too eager at making your face meet her crotch.
“Now what?” Jiwoo asks and stares at your cock.
“Take it into your mouth and suck on it. In the meantime, I, uhm, do basically the same with your vagina. This way we can both give oral pleasure, like with our mouths.”
“Ah, I see! And it looks like a six on top of nine!”
Jiwoo’s excitement is unbridled. Right after she blurts out her discovery, she takes your cock into her mouth and nibbles on it. Sharp teeth come dangerously close to digging into the delicate skin of your most holy scepter. You scream.
“No teeth, no chewing! Jiwoo, never do that, it hurts, fuck!”
“Chill, chill, I’m sorry,” she blurts out, dick still on her tongue. “So no teeth?”
“Please, yes, no teeth. Just tongue and—fuck, oh fuck!”
Before you can finish your explanation, Jiwoo takes most of your sensitive cock in her mouth, violently choking on it while her tongue runs sloppy circles around the shaft. The indescribable pleasure of her sudden blowjob only lasts a couple of seconds though, because her gags become too dangerously strong. Jiwoo almost releases more than just your cock from her mouth. New discovery: Goddesses have a gag reflex.
“You, you can take it slower,” you breathlessly say, while putting your tongue on her labia. “Like this. Slow licks, careful sucking.”
“Hm, oh wow, that feels good.” Jiwoo begins to quietly moan and lowers her pussy further down on your tongue. “I thought sex was very quick and hard and all that.”
“It can be, but this feels good too, right?” you say with a witty smirk and lick on her clit.
“Oh fuck! I see, I see, fuck, shit, fuck.” Jiwoo continues to curse as she uses the newly learned lesson on the tip of your cock. Her delicate tongue puts pressure on the underside of your tip, then she drags it over and under your cock head. You hiss and gently spread her pussy lips to suck everything from clit to ass.
“Hng, ah fuck! I understand why you humans curse during sex. It feels so fucking good.”
You giggle. Jiwoo’s pussy is now pinning you to the mattress, but you’re not going to complain. It’s an amazing labia, pink, and the juice is tasty. More and more is coming out and you decide to probe into her with your tongue. The first time her insides get spread by non-plastic makes Jiwoo scream with your cock in her mouth.
“Fak, feef fo gout.”
You start to tongue fuck her.
“So goouuut!
“I wan somsin big—bigger!”
Your cock pops free from her lips and she gets off of your face, spotted with tiny droplets of her juice. Jiwoo stands above you, confused, needy, staring at your cock which is proudly pointing at the ceiling.
“Well, uhm,” you cough to get the Goddess’ attention back, “I guess we can continue. If you want it inside you, you can ride me.”
“Huh? Like a piggyback ride?”
“No, I mean—no, that doesn’t work. What I meant is you can basically sit on my penis while it’s inside of you.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, fuck, I want that.”
Jiwoo reaches for the base of your dick. She squats down and rubs the spit-drenched tip on her labia, searching for the hole. Her outsides feel hot already, you can’t wait to feel the clenching of her pussy. For the first time, no curses, no words, just quick breaths and subsequent moans when Jiwoo finally aligns you with her hole.
As the seconds tick down, the tension leaves Jiwoo’s body and you’re able to penetrate her. With a shriek she stops after half of your cock is inside of her. It’s an awkward feeling for both of you. The Goddess is aroused but confused by this sensation of a real dick, the human is confused by the intense heat he enters. Jiwoo looks towards you, eyes full of questions.
“Well, uhm, what does it feel like?” you ask with a smile. “Is-is it good? Does it hurt?”
“It’s weird,” Jiwoo mewls. “You’re hot and you stretch me out. God, is this really the way you reproduce?”
“Yeah, but usually, there is more moving.”
“I get it, I get it, just let me adjust. You’re pretty big after all.”
A bright grin and a deep flush alter your cheeks and Jiwoo looks at you, even more puzzled than before. She readjusts her feet to keep the current position, but you can already see that she will go down on it soon.
“Thank you for the compliment,” you whisper and caress her thigh.
“What compliment? It’s a fact, don’t faulter yourself.”
“Faulter is wrong, that’s not how you—ha, fuck!”
You hold your breath, when Jiwoo suddenly goes down. You try reaching for something to not lose your grip on reality, but Jiwoo's thighs are not good at giving you stability because the Goddess immediately starts to grind and shimmy on your cock.
"Woah, fu-fu-fuck," Jiwoo fakes a stutter as her features turn euphoric. "This is insane. Amazing, so deep, I feel so full. I want it again, this feeling."
You don't have to give her a hint this time; Jiwoo starts to ride you herself. She impales her tight pussy on you with more vigor each time her legs lift her slender body up. She is too enamored with the feeling to notice your groaning and mewling.
Suddenly, everything around you disappears. For what has to be less than a second, all your furniture, your room, even your house vanishes into a white void. In the next moment, you find yourself in the midst of a grand meadow, confused sheep all around you, gigantic mountains in the background, soft, dew-covered grass below you.
"What the fuck?" you shout out, but Jiwoo has her eyes closed and forces her cunt on you without stopping. "Ji-Jiwoo, where the—huh?"
The void swallows all the sheep and snowy mountains and wet grass. They get replaced with the impeccable view of countless skyscrapers and houses from above. A strong, cold wind blasts through your hair. You tense up.
"Holy shit, is that New York—wait, are we on the Empire Sta—"
Before you can finish stating your observation, yet another void ends your view of the American metropolis and sends you into an uncomfortable bed of sand. Nothing but hot, rough, irritating sand everywhere. It annoys you on the beaches, but in a dessert it’s the fucking worst.
"Fuck, shit," Jiwoo curses through gritted teeth and for the first time slows down. With you a twitching mess because of her twitching cunt on your twitching dick, she finally stops and hides her flushed face.
"I-I think I almost peed. Weird feeling."
"It-It's f-fine,” you dismiss her worries as the sun starts to scorch your skin. “But can you please get us out of this fucking dessert?”
“Yeah, right, uhm.”
This time, the transition is seamless. The sand on your back gets replaced with something a lot more comfortable. Soft cushions stuffed with feathers or cotton, even better than your own bed, except you're not laying on a bed but a couch. The cooler, darker surroundings are foreign to you.
“Where are we now?” you ask, annoyed at what you perceive are Jiwoo’s usual antics.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” she blurts out and draws circles on your chest with her fingernails. “That was incredible, marvelous! The way my pussy got stretched out by your cock. How did it feel for you?”
“Well, uhm.” Suddenly embarrassed, you avert your eyes from Jiwoo and try to come up with a good response. It’s hard to lie when you’re still balls deep inside her. “It just feels very good, the, uhm, warmth and ti-tightness and—”
“So tightness is good?” Jiwoo repeats the meaning of your words with a curious nod. “Then how about this?”
Tightness turns to pressure. The walls of Jiwoo’s cunt begin to clamp down harder on you. The texture of her insides becomes imprinted on your skin. You both groan in unison. At this point, there is nothing to add that could make this connection stronger, you literally can’t pull out of her. However, Jiwoo continues, her pussy slowly becoming a merciless hydraulic press that threatens to crush your cock. The pleasure from pressure fades into horror and pain.
“Fuck, ah, fuck, stop! Please, Jiwoo!”
Your screams don't go unheard. Jiwoo ends her odd experiment on you.
“Too tight?” she asks the way a scientist would ask a subject during testing of a very questionable product.
“Yes, yes, way too tight.”
“Sorry about that. Maybe I could increase the heat nex ti—”
“No! I mean, no, no need for that.” You helplessly sway your arms to get your point across. “There is no need for any of this crazy, supernatural stuff. Your pussy is… it’s awesome as it is, Jiwoo.”
Awkward silence. The two of you can’t hold eye contact for more than a fleeting moment. Blood shoots to your head in embarrassment, and even the Goddess on your dick is not immune to it. She carefully gets off of your lap and looks over the back of the couch.
“This is, uhm, quite the interesting place,” Jiwoo whispers.
“Yeah, but what is it actually? You should know. You teleported us here after all.” You try to keep the conversation going while gawking at the large paintings, crimson banners and dark brown tables and chairs. There is no lamp at the ceiling or any other electrical device in this room. Everything about this place looks and smells like it’s from a long time ago, but not a galaxy far, far away.
“To be honest,” Jiwoo elaborates, “I just chose a random room from your mind. I can replay memories or parts of your imagination? Maybe you have been here before or imagined a place like this?”
Jiwoo points out the window at blue-gray walls topped with battlements and towers. Further below is an atrium with dozens of servants cleaning pans and pots. Undoubtedly a castle, a very realistically old looking castle. Even the people are dressed up properly, like they came straight out of Europe 600 years ago.
“Hm, I don’t remember being in this castle. It might be from a movie I watched or a story I read.” You ponder a little longer before looking at Jiwoo who fixes her white strands that got stuck to her sweaty face. “Anyways, what do we do now?”
“Show me another position, please~” Jiwoo immediately responds, her voice cute, her hands naughty. Finger wrap around your cock and give slow pumps. You’ve had it with her, it’s time to show her a different side.
“Fuck, fine. Lay down and spread your legs.
“Let me take charge now.”
Jiwoo’s legs shoot away from her body in excitement. The thrill in her eyes grows exponentially, when you rub your hard cockhead on her moist folds. Put a hand next to her face for stability before penetrating her in one motion. Jiwoo groans when you bottom out and mewls when you pull out shortly after. Before she can complain, you repeat the process.
“Woah,” Jiwoo pulls you closer to her body as she groans, “this is crazy good.”
“This position is called missionary.”
“Why are you, hm, fuck, why are you going so slow though?”
With a smirk you lean down to one of Jiwoo’s breasts and take as much of it as you can in your mouth. Drag your tongue over the delicate skin in calculated patterns and watch her whimper because her nipple is left untouched. Jiwoo is getting closer to losing her sanity, which is a deserved punishment for the cock-compression from earlier.
“Don’t worry, I will go faster. Just one thing, Jiwoo.
“When this weird feeling comes again; don’t hold back, let it out.”
Finally suck her nipple for the finale before letting it pop free from your lips. It’s like a secret signal, a code word for your hips to do their job. No more pulling out, now it’s just pistoning like an engine in overdrive.
Jiwoo screams out your name, which urges you to drown out her voice with pelvis on pelvis hits that make droplets of her juice stain the ancient couch. This time, her pussy tightens around you without any supernatural body alteration.
You groan in satisfaction, the sight of Jiwoo below you disturbingly different from her usual self but also incredibly hot. You peck her trembling lips, then move along her sharp jaw to nibble on it. Hiss when she digs her point nails in your back.
“Fuck, don’t stop. This is amazing,” Jiwoo moans out. Every thought of hers is drowned out, only gasps escape her mouth, but even those get interrupted when you suddenly shove your tongue into it. Jiwoo freezes in confusion, giving you the perfect opportunity to play with her idle tongue. Push it around with your own like it’s a bouncy ball, force it to play along as you increase your tempo.
Jiwoo’s breaths become rapid, your thrust wild, violent even. Her hands are in your hair, she is about to pull out entire patches which just makes you fuck her harder. Wetness, wetness and suddenly, an entire waterfall comes pouring out of Jiwoo’s thoroughly fucked hole. A strong, squirting orgasm leaves her teary eyed and breathless. Luckily, it also makes her stop pulling your hair thus you don’t have to worry about partial baldness—yet.
Don’t worry about cumming inside her too. She is a Goddess, she won’t get pregnant, no matter how big your load is. It feels like a month's worth of cum is sucked out of you; at first, it’s shot in and then, it comes pouring out when you pull out. You fall backwards into the cushions, stirring up more dust then you would’ve hoped.
“Oh. My. God,” Jiwoo slowly, quietly mouths. “This was… godly!”
“I see what you did there,” you chuckle and watch Jiwoo’s chest rise and fall and her gaping pussy leak your cream.
“So this is how babies are made,” she casually says.
Your body shoots back up, your face contorting in shock.
“Wait, what? N-no, you’re a Goddess, you can’t get pregnant.
Right? Right???"
Jiwoo pouts and looks up at you.
“Isn’t getting pregnant the goal? Why would it be bad?”
“I—
“It’s complicated.”
#kpop smut#female idol smut#kard smut#jiwoo smut#kard jiwoo smut#male reader smut#male reader insert#male reader
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Hello! I was wondering if I could have a demon slayer match up please?
I'm 18, so only characters 18 and up please!
I'm nonbinary
Two of my favorite characters are Akaza and Rengoku (ironic Ik lol)
I don't care about the gender of the match up, so go wild!
Onto the way I look/am I guess!
I have short brown hair and brown eyes. I wear glasses. I'm plus sized and I tend to wear clothes that are more comfy/practical then trendy but I do still like to wear cute stuff, I have two tattoos at the moment and plan on getting more.
My personality is just a clusterfuck of my mental illnesses and whatever I'm hyperfixated on at that point. It's hard to pin point really.. but I think I'm empathetic, I do tend to get angry very easily, I get anxious pretty often to. I have a phobia of bugs to the point of tactile hallucinations (feeling things that aren't there, like bugs crawling on me). I get discouraged easily, and don't have much confidence in myself and I'm afraid of messing things up alot.
I love dancing and drawing but have been in a mental/creative block for both for quite awhile and it sucks
I love food (especially strawberries!), music, plushies and my comfort shows (bluey (shut up), Steven universe and the owl house)
I hate loud, especially sudden, noises, being hot (I overheat very easy), and people telling me what to do (not in a "I'm better then you" way in a "well I WAS gonna do that thing but now I don't want to and physically can't" way)
I also have ADHD inattentive type, depression, and anxiety (and quite possibly some other undiagnosed things too) if that helps!
Thank you for reading this and please take your time, there's no rush! (◍•ᴗ•◍)✿
Hi anon! Thanks for requesting I hope you're doing well <3 Heres your matchup! Apologies it's not proofread 🙇🏾♀️
For your match up im paring you up with...
Yushiro Yamamoto
Yushiro will 100% be your #1 supporter and fan, no matter what is is you need or want no matter you've done for life in general or just today, he will attend your needs and fully reach your expectations and even beyond.
This man is your hype man! He'll elevate you and praise you every second of the day. It's your insecurities battling against him on the daily, your insecurities are his biggest enemy.
He's so persistent in showing you how much he adores you as sees you as a deity, he'll show his affection in every way shape and form just so it'll get drilled into your head.
Poems, compliments, acts of service, physical touch, making food for you he'll do anything to make sure you know how much he loves you.
To him you'll always be a beaming light within a crowd, he worships the ground you walk on; every part, inch and hair on you is utter perfection your being alone is the reason he thinks god exists, only a deity could carve such a perfect beauty.
Yushiro loves hearing about your new hyperfixations, well to be honest he loves all of you so truly he does not care how much they change. Talk about it all you want, show off cool stuff you made and found about the topic he will listen to every word and remember it all like his life depends on it. Not a single word of yours will be forgotten. Just so, later on he can talk proudly about the topic and you praise him for it.
He wants nothing more then your love and approval, please give it to him.
Your relationship is basically you being expensive fine China and he's a big ol' bubble wrap, wrapping you up again and again.
He's on his toes around you, literally he's on his toes. He doesn't necessarily have a natural eof being quiet however, nor is he loud he's just easy to voice his very... VERY harsh opnions, announce himself loudly when he sees you and can get quite loud when excited and wants to show you something.
So when he learns you prefer it quiet, bros as quiet as a mouse.
It's actually a little scary at first, he'll just spawn next to you without sound and it scares the living shit out of you.
Just tell him and he'll continue to be quiet but in a not so creepy way by lightly knocking before entering the room and keeping his voice to a minimum.
Don't be afraid to tell him what you want, this man's life purpose is to attend to you knees he wants to be told what to do by you and do those things. He adores you and will bend over backwards just to see you happy.
Suddenly craving food? He'll buy you a whole restaurant, you've been eyeing a new plushy? He'll get you it + a bunch of different styled once with the same design concept.
He doesn't understand human entertainment so he doesn't seem to understand what's enjoyable about the human shows he likes but, he knows you like them so automatically he likes them and they're his favourite too, cause you're his favourite and he wants to be your favourite so, everything that's your favourite is now his favourite.
You mentioned the shows you liked once, just saying it to say it and didn't think much of it but he took a mental note and binged watched it behind your back and FINISHED IT just so you guys can have something to talk about and relate too and, so you could be shocked and impressed he knew about it.
He pretends to be some huge fan and everything.
When you realise he's watched it, you get him to watch it with you again when you're in need of some comfort or just to watch it, you both come together entangled with each other in each others bodies under some blankets and plushies.
He can't help but think him deciding to watch the shows was his best idea ever.
100% worth it.
It's no doubt that no matter what, he'll always be there for you to support, cherish and love you. Until the end of times.
Her Lady's Notes:: I was heavily debating between him and Akaza now I've got the itch to write him so stay tuned for some Akaza Headcannons 🙊
── ﹫ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐌 ؛ 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋
#── ﹫herladysrealm#hercupidsrealm🏹#Herladyswork#Kny matchup#Anime matchup#yushiro x reader#Yushiro yamamoto#Kny x reader#Demon slayer Headcannons#kny headcannons#kimetsu no yaiba#kny headcanons
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Moche religion and art were initially influenced by the earlier Chavin culture (c. 900 - 200 BCE) and in the final stages by the Chimú culture. Knowledge of the Moche pantheon is sketchy, but we do know of Al Paec the creator or sky god (or his son) and Si the moon goddess. Al Paec, typically depicted in Moche art with ferocious fangs, a jaguar headdress, and snake earrings, was considered to dwell in the high mountains. Human sacrifices, especially of war prisoners but also Moche citizens, were offered to appease him, and their blood was offered in ritual goblets. Si was considered the supreme deity, as it was this goddess that controlled the seasons and storms that had such an influence on agriculture and daily life. In addition, the moon was considered even more powerful than the sun because Si could be seen both at night and during the day. It is also interesting that murals and such finds as the intact tomb of the priestess known as La Senora de Cao illustrate that women could play a prominent role in Moche religion and ceremony.
Another deity who frequently appears in Moche art is the half-man, half-jaguar Decapitator god, so-called because he is often represented holding a vicious looking sacrificial knife (tumi) in one hand and the severed head of a sacrificial victim in the other. The god may also be depicted as a gigantic spider figure ready to suck the life-blood from his victims. That such scenes mirror real life events is supported by archaeological finds, such as those at the foot of the Huaca de la Luna where skeletons of 40 men under 30 years of age show evidence that they were mutilated and thrown from the top of the pyramid. The bones of these skeletons display cut marks, limbs were ripped out of their sockets, and jaw bones are missing from severed skulls. Interestingly, the bodies lie above soft ground caused by heavy El Nino rains, which suggests the sacrifices may have been offered to the Moche gods in order to alleviate this environmental disaster. Ceremonial goblets have also been discovered which contain traces of human blood, and tombs have revealed costumed and be-jewelled individuals almost exactly like the religious figures depicted in Moche murals.
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Garfield Overview
Garfield is a daily comic strip which graced this wretched realm in 1978 with his presence. God Emperor, almighty Jim Davis and his gospel of Paws Incorporated transcribes the holy happenings of Garfield on a consistent basis. He is a generous deity, he grants larger sagas on the sacred day of rest. The weekly reset is a tragedy, and Garfield acknowledges our plights. Garfield is not isolated in his domain, and he is surrounded by weights hampering his true potential hilarity. Garfield’s most favored individual, Pooky, is an inert sentient husk resembling a small brown bear. Pooky, like Garfield, is unburdened by error. A breathing plaything for Garfield, Odie, is a drooling mess, who serves minimal purpose. He only exists to be tossed from atop the dining table. Odie is the remnant of a heretic. Jon Arbuckle claims to be the owner of both Odie and Garfield. Jon is a man shaped error, he isn’t even worthy of a properly spelled name. Jon is a sopping wet towel, a clod who fuddles the most basic of tasks, a rapscallion, and so on. Jon is in the order of cretins who fart in toilets and flush. On the spectrum of lesser occuring beings, Nermal is an insufferable, minute, grey, flea who leeches the life from the larger Garfield. Nermal sucks, we hate him. Arlene is Garfield’s lover, as we all are. Unlike us, Garfield is willing to interact with Arlene. Arlene, being a girl is hot pink, and has lips, even though she’s a cat. There’s also Liz, Garfield’s health advisor. Liz is also Jon’s love interest, if he could manage automatically breathing. And finally, the fallen angel, the heretic, Lyman…
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hawks_littledove.mp3
— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.
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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader
warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks
word count: 5,018
a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.
kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist
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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.
That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.
It started as a mild obsession.
You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.
The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.
⇒ grey fullbuster x reader
The obsession grew worse.
So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.
Hawks Fierce Wings
It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.
It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.
Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.
The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.
“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, no!
For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.
The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.
Oh my god?!
It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.
Oh, motherfucking shit.
Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos.
Each one was different.
Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob.
You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.
The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.
And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.
It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.
You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created.
There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.
It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all.
But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.
The very first video was of the following:
Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.
After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.
There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.
You had to take a break five times during that audio.
Eventually, you do end up catching up.
Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.
Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.
A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!
You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.
Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.
i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri
He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.
You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.
But, oh?
Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.
Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.
listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦
You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.
Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:
Hawks F.W.:
lets see those panties before i refund anything
A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands.
Me:
I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties
And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.
.
..
.
Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.
At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part.
Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.
But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed.
To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.
Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.
You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.
But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week.
The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.
Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.
Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.
Hawks:
how utterly boring
anyway u can b free around 2?
Me:
Eh… probably not.
Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break
Why?
Hawks:
well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio
Me:
Oh?
Well, what is it?’
Hawks:
pick up tmrw n find out
He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.
You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.
And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.
Hawks:
do u have earbuds?
Me:
Yes?
Hawks:
good put them on n pick up
The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.
Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.
Hawks:
if u dont pick up u wont get shit
[Accept]
You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.
“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.
“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head.
“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”
“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”
“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”
“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”
“But, you picked up my call?”
“You said, or else!”
“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”
Your jaw drops.
It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.
“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”
“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”
“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”
“O-Oh my god…”
“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”
Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end.
“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.
You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”
“Louder.”
“I’d be so lucky.”
“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”
“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.
“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”
You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.
“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”
“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.
Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.
“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.
“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”
Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.
“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”
“That’s not true!”
“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”
You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.
“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”
The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.
“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught.
“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”
“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”
“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”
“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.
“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.
You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.
“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”
Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks.
“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum.
“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”
“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core.
“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.
“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”
“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”
“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.
Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.
Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air.
“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”
“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”
Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.
When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.
Hawks:
this is my fav audio now
↳ hawks_littledove.mp3
but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime
call me 03-9183-2495 ;)
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✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]
notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)
only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.
as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.
for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.
when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.
it's beautiful.
you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.
you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.
the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.
you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.
the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.
"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.
you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.
you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.
realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.
"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.
hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.
"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.
you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.
for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.
during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!
the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.
your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.
it's still as beautiful as you remember.
you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.
it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.
oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.
"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.
"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.
"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.
"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.
"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."
helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.
you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.
"i love you," you declare.
"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.
you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!
the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.
in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.
#ningguang#ningguang au#ningguang angst#ningguang x reader#ningguang headcanons#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin angst#genshin headcanons#genshin au#pygmalion au#ningguang imagines#genshin imagines
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Ananza is the wind deity, though she's not the first with that honor. Originally the elder gods selected a man as their wind deity but after he witnessed Oh and Fulj being punished he requested to relinquish his role. Basically asking them for a mortal death rather than immortality. They obliged since the deities exist to help humans and a miserable deity won't do the job properly so no need to keep a deity bound to a task they don't want to do.
So Ananza was selected as a replacement. Fulj has no recollection of the first wind deity and Ananza has already been told by the fire deities that it wasn't Fulj's fault but she was the final straw for the former wind deity. So, Ananza doesn't hold any dislike towards Fulj and actually really likes listening to her talk. Ananza loves to dance and wander around her city so when Fulj stops by to visit, she listens to Fulj's adventures while they roam the city.
Because there are two fire deities and one can stay in their city while the other wanders and because Fulj no longer has a city to be focused on, the three like to visit the other cities to check in. Ohime and Ohiwe really like to visit Ananza while Fulj prefers to visit Ymber. While Ananza likes Ohiwe, Ohime, and Fulj, she really isn't fond of the ice deity or Ymber. She doesn't like to scramble for topics and ice/Ymber don't start conversations enough so it's a bother to Ananza to try forcing friendliness. She loves light hearted stories though and Fulj and the fire deities excel at that type of story.
(Ohime and Ohiwe sometimes call her Nana and on that note it's lore in the tags time)
#the daily life of a deity sucks#also fwiw ! deacon doesnt really tell anyone but he really wants to meet the wind deity#because he might have lost his mom at a young age but she was originally from the city of wind and had wind magic#so he would watch his mom dance either solo or with his dad and it was always fun to him to watch how happy his mom was#so when he was told it was a dance she learned when she was a child he doesnt think much of it#but he sees ohime trying to show ymber a dance he was finally getting down and then ohime pauses#cause hes trying to remember and deacon is like oh you clap three times not two#and both ohime and ymber are staring at him like what did you just say#and deacon is like yeah uh you do the claps but kinda like this in order to keep the flow free and light#and ohime is just smugly looking at ymber saying oh ? really? youve been teaching him dance moves?#and ymber is just hey dont look at me so ohime is baffled and then fulj has?#and deacon says he learned of it a while ago from someone else haha sorry if hes wrong it could be wrong#thats why ymber asks him later about it and finds out deacons mom was originally an ananza follower#and is like huh wild while ohime is now plotting how to get ymber and deacon on a vacation to see ananza#and honestly i really just want to have deacon meeting ananza now and being in absolute awe of the deity#because THATS HER YMBER THATS THE ONE MY MOM WORSHIPPED#and ymber is able to be around deacon and ananza while they converse and that#helps ananza realize ymber isnt as cold and distant as she thought he was - fascinating#and also she likes deacon who holds her in such reverence despite being ymbers follower
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As promised, another song inspired fic based on God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner.
Let me give my sweet boy Echo a hug.
Warnings: body dysmorphia, +++depression, self hatred, negative self image, suicidal thoughts, ideation, intention, self harm thoughts, death mentions, non concentual body modification, angst.
---
The Havoc Maurader continued on its set course while the Bad Batch's newest adoptee took his watch. Echo sat in the seat beside the one that usually held Tech, currently vacant. There was a strange stillness in the air as space flew past him. Echo knew better than to belive time was standing still, but as it was currently, he felt as if everything had slipped out from under him. If it were not for the chair under him, or the all to familiar ache of limbs and joints that were no longer, perhaps he would question his current existence all together.
Unfortunately, he was all to real in the frozen moment. Feeling numb with countless weighted thoughts and emotional baggage, Echo found himself struggling with feeling somewhere between completely numb and absolutely depressed. Golden eyes stayed focused on the stars out the window of the ship, willing himself to be somehow sucked from the cabins gravity and oxygen to join his fallen brothers among the stars that blinked before him now. They mocked him.
Somewhere deep in his body, his human heart twisted, and Echo felt ill at the feeling. This is what it felt like to be no one, he thought, staring at the stars that only offered an ignorant glitter in return to his thoughts. Sometimes, it took everything he had not to end up in this spiral of reality mixing with his own tortured thoughts. His time with the Techno Union did more than the physical mutilation of his body. More than taking away his humanity, Echo felt as though he had lost his soul itself, if he ever had one to begin with.
The cyclone that was Echo's thoughts ate away at him, nipping in all the wrong places, corroding metal and teasing phantom limbs that shouldn't ache as badly as they were. Somewhere out there, Echo thought at the stars hurtling past, the force, the maker, a God itself, must truly hate him.
Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, God must hate me"
'Cause He spent so much time on them and for me, He got lazy
Got ample mental illness personality flaws
While their only flaw seems to be is that they have none at all
Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, God must hate me"
Fives would have known how to comfort his twin when the suppression became this deep, but beyond the grave, this was a hard ask. His brother no longer walked beside him as he did in life, and to be fair, Echo wasn't sure if he walked another path at all. A chill of anxiety coursed through his veins at the thought, making his blood feel cold. He hoped there was something out there. Something bigger and better worth all the pain of this life, their lives. But could clones go to such a place? They had specifically been designed for violence, predisposed to a lifetime of war and death. Numbers lablled the same face thousands of times. What deity would accept them, him, after all they had to do? What force of power allowed people to endure such trauma and pain? Though he wanted to belive in something for his brothers, and selfishly for himself, it was difficult.
During his time training, and later following the 501st on countless missions, Echo had encountered many beings. Individuals who swore they felt a change once swearing their lives to a God, insisting on a power greater than the universe itself, promoting ideas that wove tales that seemed like children's dreams, either too good to be true, or too bizarre and terrifying to unwrap all at once. Of course, there were the Jedi who overlooked training and command, even daily life during the war, regardless od location. Jedi Master Shaak Ti had been one of the first who taught Echo about the force, and answered many questions patiently as he and his brothers rambled about their own thoughts that had long stayed hidden under their own fear of growing up too fast, and donating themselves to a war they had no say in. Perhaps everything was controlled by fear and pain. That, was something Echo could belive.
He recalled his time at the Citadel, a flurry of memories that continued to haunt his psyche regardless how hard he tried to repress them. The recollection hit him with the force of a specialized racing speeder, and all too quickly the pieces of the present crumbled away and darkened eyes stared through the glass, unmoving as the memory overtook him.
Occasionally, the sedatives and tubes had to be changed, and new alterations made to his morphing body. It was during these times that Echo, stunned from his comatose state, regained some for of consciousness and began to scream. The first time it happened, he begged, downright prayed to his creator to make it all stop, to give him something for his excruciating pain, but the techno union were unwavering gods, and continued their sculpture. Eventually, he came to realize that he did not claim his body anymore, only his captors had that satisfaction.
Echo would never admit to prayer. Never let any of his brothers in on his secret mantras that sang through his teeth while his bones rattled during countless operations. Eventually it felt as if he were praying for another person, and not himself at all.
I'll let 'em take accountability
For everything that's wrong with me
Can't hold myself responsible
So I blame the metaphysical
If Jesus died for all our sins
He left one behind, the body I'm in
Same hands that made the moon and the stars
Got carpal tunnel and forgot some parts
Obi Wan, Master Kenobi, talked so kindly about the force. His ex apprentice, his general, had picked up on his masters devotion, often wishing troopers the force to be with them and his vod during hard times. Where had it been during all the time he had spent trapped in a chamber, or strapped to operating tables? Maybe whatever cosmic force was out there had labeled him as a hopeless cause, and abandoned the assumed dececed trooper in his metallic grave.
I don't know what I believe
But it's easier to think
He made a mistake with me
Abandoned to durasteel limbs and invasive sensors that prodded into every last area of his being. If he wasn't soulless to begin with, he was sure they had altered it as well.
Blinking quickly as the flashback freed him from its grasp, Echo brought a pale palm to his face, wiping at the tears that threatened to fall. His scomp brushed against his cheek, the cold metal reminding him of who he was, or wasn't any longer. The new faces that surrounded him were not as difficult to face as the ones that were on Kamino. Though many clones had chosen tattoos and hair that went against the identical copies of brothers, it was difficult to not see Fives or himself in the faces of his unenhanced vode.
He knew life was not easy for the original members of the Batch. Hunter had told him little about growing up on Kamino, but it was enough to paint a dreary, painful picture. Though, there were still days Echo found himself getting caught up in mundane activity with his new family and becoming reminded of what he had lost. Tech's incredible intelligence that had not been clawed from the depths of his mind against his will, Hunter's unwavering solidarity to his brother's that remained by his side, Crosshair's quick wit and sharp shot reminding him of brothers in the past. It was Wrecker reminded him the most. Nearly always cheery and upbeat, ever joking and ready to go, as long as his brothers were with him. Strong and explosive, a giant spark of light in a twisted, deceitful world.
Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, they got lucky"
the craftsmanship of their bones, their brain, and their body
When I look into the mirror for too long it hurts
they don't track how many steps it takes to burn off dessert
Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, they got lucky"
He itched for his skin to cover the limbs that no longer attached to sockets. To struggle with maintaining curls that refused to lay flat. To go to a medic for a checkup when he needed to, as opposed to pulling out a toolbox each time something malfunctioned like repairing a Droid. Maybe he hadn't died, but something in him had. Or at least, the Echo that lived before whatever made up this body was comprised and brought to life.
It was a sick trap, locked away in a body that didn't feel like it belonged to him, in a changed world where his brothers were no longer.
I'll let 'em take accountability
For everything that's wrong with me
Can't hold myself responsible
So I'll blame the metaphysical
If Jesus died for all our sins
He left one behind, the body I'm in
Same hands that made the moon and the stars
Got carpal tunnel and forgot some parts
Rex of course had been so happy to see him alive, but words whispered in the dark recesses of his mind... "what have they done to you?" What indeed. Echo ached for freedom, his flesh hand fidgeting with his false arm, letting fingers run down steel that didn't feel or provide warmth.
"Let me out." Three words that he had whispered countless times of the breath of a prayer, a plead for mercy, an absolute beg for something, anything else that didn't include him trapped in what wasn't his skin. Maybe it would have been better if Rex had made his peace with Echo's death. Perhaps dying would have been the humane thing to do.
I don't know what I believe
But it's easier to think
He made a mistake with me
Would he be so lucky? It wouldn't be difficult to manage, that he knew. Eyes met the stars once more as he looked up from where his eyes had been glued to the control panels in front of him. He wasn't sure when he had stopped his searing gaze out the window, or how much time had passed since he had been observing his watch. Glancing at the numbers reading neon on a screen, Echo let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 02:56. It would be all too easy to make that dark, horrific part of his mind pleased. He brought his focus back out the glass as he contemplated the next move. Weapons were everywhere on the Maurader; behind every nook and cranny a blaster, viroblade, or even a rogue explosive could be found. The others would not wake for a while yet, Crosshair would take the next watch at 0500, already being an early riser. He wouldn't think too much of Echo not being in his chair to greet him, assuming he left momentarily and then retired for a few hours of rest after seeing the sniper overtaking his position.
Unease fluttered through his chest as he let his arms rest at his sides, fingers brushing a blaster strapped to his leg that had been neglected to be returned to its place.
Drawing the weapon from its nest, Echo brought it to his front, staring at the item as if it was the first time he had seen such a thing. The black metal returned his observation with silent, dull, expressionless invitation. His thumb smoothed over the cool metal as his hand grasped the handle , finger resting against the trigger that had been pushed countless times on those unfortunate enough to be in front of his line of fire. The man behind the blaster yerned for a taste of what came next. What those who fell found out, or didn't.
Turning the blaster towards himself, his eyes followed the muzzle of the gun as it stared into his face. Feeling almost trance like, Echo looked down the barrel of his blaster for a long minute as the feeling of numbing depression washed over his body, engulfing his being whole. There was only one way this would end. One way to truly make the multitude of pains stop for good.
Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, God must hate me"
'Cause He spent so much time on them and for me, He got lazy
Pausing momentarily, Echo closed his eyes and took a breath as the cool barrel rested against his temple, beginning to count backwards. Three... two... on-
"Echo."
A quiet voice, nearly a whisper cut through his monolog. Keeping his eyes closed, he let out an unsteady breath as a firm, but soft and met his shoulder while another gently pried his fingers from the blasters handle that had grown warm under his touch.
Letting his hand fall to his lap, Echo slumped forwards with the smaller strangle of a cry, putting his forehead into the palm of his flesh hand as his shoulders began to shake.
Hunter stood above his brother, keeping his hand on Echo's back as he slid it across his shoulders while the other returned the blaster to an empty holder on the sargent's person.
Words didn't have to be exchanged just yet as Echo fell apart, crumbling in on himself as Hunter remained quietly by his side, occasionally giving his shoulder a squeeze as if to remind him that someone was there when he was ready. Sometime after, Tech approached the deck, observing the situation silently before turning back the way he came, only to returning with Crosshair quickly on his heels, and Wrecker tugging along Lula, who was gently placed between Echo's arms. Each brother took a side as they collectively huddled around their vod, silently coming together in solidarity, knowing Echo needed them now more than ever.
Whatever was out there may have forgotten him, but his brothers never did.
#the clone wars#the clones#rex#star wars the bad batch#echo#star wars#clone ocs#arc trooper jesse#rots#clone trooper fives#fives my beloved#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#bad batch hunter#the bad batch crosshair#bad batch tech#bad batch wrecker#depression#echo needs a hug#the citadel#the 501st#bad batch fanfic#star wars fanfiction#tbb fanfic
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summer (l.ty)
pairing┃boxer! lee taeyong and college student! OC ft. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny and Taeil + mention of Bang Chan and Namjoon
genre | fluff, slight angst | boxer! au
warnings | slow-burn, language, mention of ass ( i know taeyong has none but alright), lots of banter, physical injuries, mention of blood, violence, mention of steroid usage, making out in the boxing gym, too much plot but aight, smut (for those uncomfortable, the smut is placed at the very end; the note indicates mature content, read at your own risk ) subtle sub!-dom! themes, unprotected sex, fingering, eating out, penetration, biting, marking, creampie, edging it’s not really that dirty but it’s just passionate lovemaking
word count | 25k
synopsis |
“If two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back.”
Or in which, you are stranded in your university due to summer classes and you had a little reunion with your ex that you last saw two years ago.
a/n | this is part of @neo-cult-ure‘s summer collab!
taglist | @cinanamon @jaesmintea @jungcity @seongghwaa @mjlkau @neoyoungho for helping me with proofreading.
tags | @ethaeriyeol @yuta-nakitamoto @suhweo @neocity-sarai @jaeminsmainbitch @the32ndbeat @bumblebeenct @cloudynakamoto @solecize @moonlss @ceruleanskies @tzuqui @jungjeffr3y @neo-shitty @o-schist
muse | and this is based on the song summer by calvin harris, long flight by taeyong, call out my name, earned it by The Weeknd, pillowtalk by zayn, love me harder by ariana grande. there are literary quotes from The Notebook by nicholas sparks and The Great Gatsby by fitzgerald.
“The cows didn’t deserve this sight. You look like a moving potato sack.”
That one familiar voice, laced with precise mirthful nuance immediately stops you from your attempted zumba dances. Your head automatically snaps towards the door where he is currently leaning at. Even without looking, you could see the tugging of his lips that belonged to your one and only grumpy roommate and unfortunately best friend, Doyoung.
This is one of your routines, dancing carelessly in front of your open windows, to entertain the cows from the farm your dormitory is located at. They make such a great audience though, unlike the people from university.
People who? You don’t know her.
You lean over the table to shut down the speaker that blasts electronic music.
The morbid greetings are never new to you anymore. In fact these greeting exchanges are normal, and an inside joke no one will understand but you and him.
Doyoung looks like he recently woke up from his grave. With a sullen face and eye bags that are too dark, it stands out amongst his pallorness. Being a pol-sci student surely makes the stunning Kim Doyoung a disaster.
He enters your room with coffee in hand and plops himself comfortably on the blue plush seats you two had managed to haul at the local thrift shop. This is Kim Doyoung with his disheveled morning look—his curly hair and baggy sweatpants but hail thee heavens, he still looks majestic and it’s unfair. He gulps a mouthful of his morning coffee. At this point you have made the conclusion that coffee is what kicks him in the morning, if not, daily.
You gawk at the tall boy before you, bracing yourself for his never ending list of snarky remarks —about you, your ridiculous pajamas, the cows which you don’t understand either, college, his debates, how emotional the girls are in his department and it pisses him off, how capitalism sucks, do soulmate exists? And if yes, it’s bullshit and what not. Nevertheless, you do understand his points since both of you share a deep seated bond and a like for misanthropy. Despite his ear-splitting and sometimes provocative rants, it had never failed to boost you. Albeit you hate early morning scolds, Kim Doyoung and his banters are an exception.
“Potato who? I am an exceptional dancer.” You grin while whipping your hair dramatically.
On cue, Doyoung’s eyes roll heavenwards. What a dramatic king. “How is that even possible?”
You shrug. “They moo-ed at me longer than their usual moo-s. Look!” You point at the brown cow staring back at you while nibbling grass.
Doyoung didn’t bother to peek at your window. Instead, he shakes his head in dismay while sipping again on his black coffee. “You need to seek help, you’re unbelievable.”
“Me and the cows just have a deep-seated relationship and they are far more supportive than your grumpy ass.”
Doyoung didn’t answer you. He shifts again in his seat, his long legs folding in an uncomfortable angle. Doyoung winces as he settles his mug on the table just adjacent from the plush seat. He gives you a concerned look, “Anyways, enough with the cows. How is your major going? You look dead.”
“So are you.”
“I’m stunning, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Bickering with him will be a waste of a time.
It's 8:30 am and truth be told, you are not ready to go to your university especially when the impending torment awaits for your arrival.
Your lips tug upward, an acrimonious smile painting your lips. If there’s something you want to talk about early in the morning, it would rather be about politics, rabbits, anything but your college department. The attempt in pulling an all-nighter yesterday night isn’t enough to lessen the never ending stack of paperwork your professors are demanding and talking about it would just fuel up your frustrations. “If the team won’t cooperate in the defense,” you sigh. “Summer.”
In an instant, Doyoung’s lips tugs into a shit-eating grin. Those smiles that hold such malice that shouts ‘you’re a worst case’. Being the sinister human being he is, he didn’t waste this opportunity to throw you his judgement. “For what I know college students should never be… negligent.” He drags out those words slowly like reciting to a child, making sure you do understand what the hell he is talking about and giving full emphasis on the last word that he said.
You immediately retort back, defensive. “I am! I mean… I am not!”
“I am not saying you are… but your groupmates.”
“They are…”
His feline eyes are as dark as his hair while he studies you. He’s feigning fake enthusiasm while raising his brows up cockily. “Yeah?”
You inwardly let out a whine. “Yeah. Now. Shut up Kim Doyoung.”
He chuckles. “What? I’m not saying anything!”
You huff. “After all this crap, I will seriously go out for a vacation,” you pause. “And I won’t tag you in, bitch!”
He rolls his eyes, “How despicable.”
“Seriously though, I don’t want to spend my time in university, it’ll kill the remaining sanity left in me.”
Overly confident, you want to smack the shit out of him. He shrugs. “I know. Good thing I’m an ace.”
You roll your eyes and throw your plushie towards his direction. But the devil incarnate has the deities on his side because the pillow didn’t budge nor hit him at all.
“Excuse me, mister right. Sorry to pop your bubble but remember? Your professor is still frustrated at the bull crap you pulled.” Your lips immediately tugging upwards upon the memory of him blabbing out incoherently to you like a child, intoxicated with alcohol while flunking classes. All of it because he’s, according to him, an ace.
“And what was that you were yelling at the corridors?” You try and recall the song he keeps on yelling in the top of his lungs while the people are shooting him dirty looks, “Young, dumb, young, young, dumb and bro-oh-ke…”
You wheeze while clutching your stomach. Good thing he got a nice voice, but still it was embarrassing. As if on cue, the stressed-out, disheveled Kim Doyoung wipes his face dramatically in humiliation. You’re both entertainers in your own ways, but he makes himself really stand out without him even trying.
If Kim Doyoung’s life is a movie, you’d literally spend your dollars to watch him over and over again.
“How’s your horse?” And you burst into fits of laughter.
A distressed groan escapes Doyoung’s lips upon the memory. “Can you please not?”
You shake your head no, still laughing upon the memory. He glares in your direction, his hawk-like eyes staring back at you with such vexation.
It’s a mistake for him to actually choose to drink rather than preparing for a major presentation that he messed up with big time. While drunk, he answered his professor’s inquiry with, ‘I don’t have a thing for voyeurism though, my horse is not down for it’. His professor is too infuriated at his answer and his laid back attitude, she gave him a big fat 60% mark as payback. What a damn ace, truly, ace of all clowns.
“I just hoped the case study could help me. I didn’t know that the case presentation was worth 60% of my grade!”
“You should join a pageant sometime.”
“Fuck, no.”
“Well, you’re famous as well as your answer. Imagine the school paper desperate just to have your comment published?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes.
His suggestive answer spreads out in the university like wildfire. If you could remember the quote, “Attention Ladies! Doyoung is quite reserved as his ‘horse’ is quite shy”, no public canoodling!
Doyoung is so furious when he sees the whole article, that he wants to sue the journalism club for defamation. But they immediately bribe him with a percentage, because the profits were surprisingly high because he’s featured in. Kim Doyoung is quite popular unlike you. He is a Pol-Sci student, and that made him proactive about social issues that you sometimes wanted to shut him out. He never stops talking about capitalism. And not to mention his fanbase— he has the looks, brain even if he barely uses it, and part of a famous sorority house. High number of admirers are really expected.
He makes a face. That’s what you get when you enter one of your classes intoxicated with gin and bullshit. Yolo, Kim Doyoung.
“Stop laughing,” he scowls.
Doyoung clears his throat and diverts the subject, “Have you tallied the responses?”
“Oh, shit.” You shift yourself in your bed. A ballpen strikes your ass and a ruler snaps in half the moment you tried to move again in your spot.
You wince. “I told Regina about it, and guess what?”
“Spill.”
“She fucking forgot about the methodology. I’m going insane!”
You stand up and grab the print-outs of your unfinished research paper. Doyoung brings the cup to his lips while watching you scurry back and forth in your room. You leave your room, only to return once again to gape at your best friend. The lack of sleep is taking a toll on you early in the morning, and all you want to do is to wrap yourself in your fuzzy blankets and binge watching Netflix. After all, it’s exciting to watch with the academic deadlines chasing after every episode you attempt to watch.
Your best friend’s lips instantly curl upward and you register that the words he’ll be spatting out will slap the shit out of you “You still have to interpret the results, though.”
“Bloody hell.” You groan loudly.
He grins smugly. “I really hope you won’t bawl your eyes out, but you still have a big nut to crack open.”
You were about to retort back but something had hit you. Your face painting an aghast expression, you cussed again, “Oh shit, the math homework?”
“Bingo.” His smirk widens at your stressed out face. “And the deadline is today.”
Why do you still have maths in your course? It’s ridiculous.
Despite him being annoying at all times, you are still happy that Doyoung is at your side. He is a blessing in disguise. He somewhat remembers all the things you have mentioned to him like homeworks and other things and makes fun of you because you‘re such a fucking goner. Having the habit of doing something at the drop of a hat then to procrastinate and cram it all out like a madwoman.
You manage to get through this bad habit of yours when your ex helped you back in the day. But now that he’s gone, all your mannerisms are flooding in like crazy.
You heave a long sigh of frustration. “Why, why, the hell did I choose to watch Riverdale instead of doing my maths?”
You stare at his dark orbs dancing with pure amusement.
He shrugs at your outbursts. “I have been telling you. You’re too distracted.”
You, per contra, immediately run to your bed and grab the nearest paper lying on the end with a bold ‘biochemistry’ printed on the topmost part of the paper. You toss the paper to Doyoung’s direction and continued on doing the searching operation of your long-lost math homework.
Doyoung clicks his tongue, finding the scowl on your face entertaining. “I just saw that paper! Now I can’t see it!”
You stomp your feet in annoyance.
Doyoung rolls his eyes. He knows exactly where this will go. He counts.
Three. Two. One.
You wail. “Kim Doyoung! I cannot find it!”
“You should learn to search using your fucking eyes! Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable,” he sighs, running his lithe hands through his raven locks. From the sound of his sigh, you know he’s tired of dealing with your constant bullshit.
“You have your eyes for a reason. For searching! Don’t use your mouth, Y/N,” he paused. Your homework is on the table.” Then he pointed at the coffee table.
“You’re lucky I’m being nice here. I’d rather hide that paper from you and watch you fail because you just lost a fucking piece of paper.”
You grimace, “You’re one hell of --”
You see how Doyoung’s face morphed in a whole 180 turn before the blink of your eye. From being calm to sinister. He mumbles, his tone so deep and malign. But you can hear him, “If you continue on. I will never, ever, help you with your essays. Carry on your GPA.”
What a hypocritical bitch.
Doyoung exactly knows how and where to push your buttons.
A whirlpool of emotions washes over you, and panic is the main cherry on top. It’s been an unspoken rule among both of you, that if ever who’s at rock bottom, the other half shall lift the rock no matter how heavy it is. And unfortunately, you're the rock and Doyoung has been helping you all through this time to somehow pass and manage your assignments. He’s been complaining how he is suffering from back pain due to carrying you all over the place.
You huff, clenching your fist to control the forming irritation in your gut, “For the sake of my peace, I wanna punch you. But yes, thank you, bitch.”
He mimics you, “Welcome bitch.”
Approaching his seat, you plop yourself comfortably on the floor. “Now how do I do this?”
Doyoung tilts his head to the side to cast a greater view of your paper and his face immediately scrunches. “Mean and deviation? I have taught you how to get them, right?”
You groan out. “I forgot.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Of course you forgot about it,” he curls his lips to a frown. “But remembering handsome boys, you ain’t slick… wait… what’s my name again?”
“Gross.”
He snatches the paper from your hold with a scowl and begins scribbling the answers. He mumbles loud enough for you to hear, “You weren’t like this when he was here. You’re too distracted.”
You frown upon the mention of your ex. Doyoung is right, you suck up big time when your ex left you to pursue his career.
Doyoung hands the paper back to you. Glancing at your homework, he had answered the first two numbers and the rest were blank. Your mouth presses into a thin line while attempting to answer the rest, following the solutions and steps of Doyoung from above.
He lifts the mug to his lips and gulps the remaining coffee. A vibration from his pocket catches his attention. Doyoung fishes for his mobile phone and his eyes almost bulge out upon the text he just received. The screen illuminates his slender face.
[from TY Track]
[9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well.
Glancing from your peripheral vision; you know he must’ve received some dirty text again with the way his eyes bulge out of his sockets and a faint blush of pink that has been kissing his cheeks. You were not sure from whom though but it could be from the lists of girls in your mind that you’ve once texted out to ‘fuck off’ as per Kim Doyoung.
It happens daily and you are somewhat forced to answer them back because he’s been begging you to get rid of them. His ways of swatting the girls are really insurmountable. There is this time you thought he’s sending in dick pic (you almost threw a victory dance) but in reality he was just sending a picture of his beautiful middle finger followed by blocking or sometimes a ‘get lost, I don’t like you’.
You grin at the thought of Doyoung dirty texting but it’s borderline impossible. The amount of suitors is surprisingly high for a grumpy Kim Doyoung but he dismisses them all. You don’t know why he doesn’t open up opportunities for commitment, but it isn’t your business to mess with. After all, you couldn't blame them, his whole frat boy demeanor is really a lovely sight to look at.
His mouth opens then closes followed by his eyes widening like he couldn’t believe the sight at his screen. You let out an airy chuckle while computing for the mean. “You got yourself a fubu? Shall we call in Alpha chi Omega and celebrate?”
His brows automatically furrow while hiding his phone away from your sight, in defense. Your conclusions forming like endless swirls in your mind at the sight of him being so, aloof. You shoot out a grin.
“What the fuck? No!”
Your brows automatically shoot upward and you raise your hands still grinning widely. “Woah, chill, lover boy.”
Never in Doyoung’s life he plays cupid, because he thinks love is ridiculous. But he might as well play one for the sake of two broken hearts still yearning for each other. Doyoung knows he’s still not over you and you are still thinking about him even if you don’t admit.
[doie]
[9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around.
Two months and two weeks prior to Taeyong’s homecoming.
Ragged breaths resonate around the boxing circle. The crowd is expectant, holding in their breath while watching the neck to neck fight.
Chan is lying on the floor, his chest rising heavily with every breath he takes. His coach is yelling profanities from the farthest corner, urging him to get his ass up and fight. He hears the muffled rambunctious screaming of the crowd and the loud EDM music blaring inside the gymnasium followed by the irritating ringing in his ears.
With Taeyong’s strike on his right ear, his balance fucks up and he can’t bring himself on his feet. Chan’s eyesight is getting worse, seeing occasional stars here and there. If it wasn’t for the gym’s blinding spotlight and camera flashes, he would really think that he got blind. Despite the large ring they are currently in, the atmosphere feels heavy, thick, and choking. The place stinks of cigarettes, sweat and blood. The floors were slightly wet with their perspiration. There’s overall tension, but violence is above it all.
Taeyong wipes the blood that spluttered from his mouth from Chan’s jab. He runs towards the corner where his team is at. Taeil immediately scrambles to his feet to get inside the ring to wipe off his sweat. Taeyong feels extreme exhaustion while staring back at Taeil under hooded eyes. He is running a tongue over his mouthpiece and rests his head on the ring’s metal post.
The referee enters the ring with a mic in hand then approaches the younger boxer. The referee pounds his fist onto the white mat, yelling numbers, “One!”
A pause. Then there is another pound. This time with much more force than the previous pound. “Two!”
Chan’s eyes flicker open at the countdown. His bruised eyes widening at the sound of his coach’s constant fire of profanities. Get up Bang Chan! Get the hell up! And so he did. Before the referee could shout the last number, three, Chan slightly jerks his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands then he tilts his torso to his right, raising up to his toes completely. Chan wobbles slightly while setting his posture up in full defense mode.
The referee makes a dash, excluding himself from the ring. Taeyong walks towards the center, his stance is set with his gloved hand raised up for defense. Chan’s appearance is rough. With blood covering most of his torso, there are occasional hues of yellow, purple and blue lingering on the younger boxer’s cheeks and eyes, one of his eyebrows split open blood pooling down mixing with his sweat, his plump lips is swollen and busted as if he had been stung by a bee.
Taeyong approaches the opponent carefully. Defense still high and not breaking eye contact. He knows how jumbled Chan is. Continuing on pushing himself further will just cause him harm— both mentally and physically. Due to Chan’s swollen right eye he can’t see Taeyong clearly. Throwing out jabs clumsily.
After contemplating for a few, Chan throws a counterpunch but Taeyong is quick enough to throw a combination that interrupts the younger mid-way. Chan musters his remaining strength to launch out a strike but Taeyong immediately dodges and springs forward to throw a blow on his jaw.
Chan can see spirals swimming in his vision that made him pause. With a disarranged mind, all he could do was to clinch on his opponent’s shoulder, breathing hard, bodies colliding with each other. The referee immediately steps in, breaking them apart. The crowd roars with both enthusiasm and dismay.
Taeyong made the final move, shooting his last blow on Chan’s stomach that made the young boxer fall with a loud thud. The crowd erupts with extreme exhilaration.
The emcee’s voice booms through the gymnasium’s speakers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen after twelve rounds of action we go to the scorecards. We have a unanimous decision in favor of the winner none other than boxing’s pride of Seoul, Lee Taeyong! The one and only, current WBA welterweight champion of the world! Lee ‘Kingpin’ Taeyong!”
Taeyong approaches Chan’s figure at the other side of the ring and gives him his warmest regards. Taeyong watches the intimate moment shared between the Aussie and his significant other. As sweet folks say, loving kisses can wipe out exhaustion. Touché.
Taeyong is sure that the younger boxer has potential and could make his boxing career stretch far with an obtained score of 116. Taeyong is in Chan’s situation once, losing then going home with a fucked up face. Everything is consuming— especially in boxing. Fatigue, face, dignity— but it is all about the commitment. It took Taeyong several eyebrow cuts just to achieve his current position. Before he was well-known as the Kingpin, he was once a loser. With high pressure, diamonds are formed.
Victory is so sweet. Yet the Kingpin still feels empty. He misses those moments when he was still a nobody; someone will run inside the gym just to pepper him kisses and him dodging cause he’s all sweaty. Or the steamy make out sessions usually in his Mustang after every class. The late night sex in his room. He wants to turn back time, he missed experiencing it all, everything. It hurts for him to admit but he missed someone that is dear to him. Someone that is his life. Those memories cease the moment he decided to choose this career, boxing. He thought, was it worth it? Is selecting boxing really did give him the utmost happiness? Was it worth exchanging you for this career? After his several attempts of questioning himself, Taeyong couldn’t still answer whether all of this makes him happy or it’s just complete bullshit.
His team jumps in the ring full of excitement. Taeil is showing him an ear to ear grin while wiping off his face. Taeyong winces as Taeil is too overwhelmed, vigorously wiping over his cuts. “Hyung, I’m not a car, stop wiping my face like a wiper.”
Taeil giggles. “Oh. Sorry.”
His manager approaches him, sliding the heavyweight gold belt over his shoulder. The manager leans over to whisper a strong ‘congratulations’. Taeyong nods back, unable to contain his glee. He grins at the crowd and pumps his fist in the air. The crowd are screaming for his name and his victory.
All hail, Kingpin.
“Taeyong.”
Taeyong’s eyes flicker shut. It’s only been five minutes since Taeyong submerged in the cylinder shaped chamber full of ice, but for him it feels like forever. The water stings and the cold is there, but it eats away the soreness nevertheless. Taeyong grits his teeth, fucking five minutes feels like eternity. He tries to divert his attention to anything but the stopwatch clipped on the cylinder’s edge.
A voice calls him again. Taeil. “Taeyong.”
The boxer breathes. “Yes. Hold on.”
The timer beeps. Taeil approaches the cylinder bath to snatch the beeping device.
Taeyong rises to his full height with the water swaying after him and the ice floating around the bath. Taeyong grips the edge and jumps out.
Taeil approaches him with a towel in hand. The boxer grabs the fluffy fabric and wraps it around his bare torso still shivering from the aftermath of his post-match routine. The soreness from the fight subdues. Taeyong holds the fabric to his head to towel dry his silver locks.
Taeil begins, “There’s something the manager will tell you.”
Taeyong shoots out a look towards him, his face immediately contorting into confusion. “About what?”
Taeil shrugs. He plops down to the bench and drops the athletic bag. The steel bench creaks as he rummages through the bag and throws a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a black tank top towards Taeyong.
The boxer grunts, snatching the clothes mid-air with his right hand. “Geez. You could’ve handed it to me, hyung.”
Taeil faces him and settles the bag. A tired sigh escapes his lips. “I’m not in favor of what he’s gonna say to you.”
Taeyong’s brow furrows. “Why? Wait, what is it about?”
Taeil leans back on the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the gung-ho McGregor aren’t you?”
Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he tries to recall the familiar name. Damn, Chan’s smack must’ve shaken his brain. “The suspended boxer?”
Taeil nods and crosses his arms. “He’s actually back and wants to hold a match with you.”
Taeyong fidgets on his spot awkwardly. Water droplets drip down his chest. It’s fucking cold. For heaven’s sake he’s just in his black boxers.
“Can I change first?”
Taeil shakes his head and holds a finger to shut him out. “This is an important matter, kid.”
Taeyong scowls. “It’s fucking cold!”
He stops bickering back upon the sight of Taeil’s glare. Taeyong sighs, “We rejected them, right?”
“Yes. But backstage, Alexis’s manager opened up the matter to the manager again.”
Taeyong’s brows knot. “I just got into a fight. Can you talk it out with the manager?”
Taeil grimaces. “You know how my words don’t have an effect on him.”
Taeil continues on, “Besides, you are never the alibi type. If there’s a fight, you fight. That is how they know you. So it won’t work, unless you got pregnant? But that’s borderline fucking impossible.”
Taeyong didn’t argue back since Taeil has a point. Alibis are not really favorable especially in the world of boxing, unless you’re at death's door.
Taeil continues. “McGregor’s team promised a percentage if you let him win.”
“What the fuck?” Absolutely never.
A knock disrupts the two. Taeil straightens himself while Taeyong readjusts the towel resting on his hair.
Manager Oh enters the room. The two male cannot read the gloomy look on the manager’s face as the atmosphere is quite tense.
The manager gulps and begins to speak. “I reckon Taeil has told you about the matter,” the manager pauses. “We’ll accept the deal. The fight will be pushed through.”
Taeyong’s ears piques as he begins to feel annoyed. “Without consulting me? If it wasn’t for Taeil hyung, I wouldn’t know.”
Manager Oh breaths. “They promised to sponsor everything for your UBT.” He halts again, trying to select the right words to cajole the boxer. “That’s your goal, right?”
The Universal Boxing Tournament is something elite, big, and wild. It isn’t just Taeyong’s goal but every boxer. The payments in the matches are double the fee he usually receives. Although the chance of fighting in the big event is at Taeyong’s palm, it left him in a state of deep conflict. He’s done being the sparring partner— or a punching bag of someone else. He’d establish himself and the idea of stooping down just for the benefit of others greatly dismays him.
Taeyong strokes his nape. “It is one of my goals— dream, even. But I’m not sure, manager. I’m done being a punching bag.”
Manager Oh rubs his eyes. “I know…it’s just that McGregor is coming back and having a match with you could guarantee popularity for him.”
Taeil shakes his head in dismay but he never utters a word.
The boxer is still unconvinced.
The manager sighs. “He’s cleared of steroid usage.”
Taeyong squints. “What if he does it again pre-match? Then that cancels the match, what about the UBT spot they’ve promised?”
“You don’t have to worry about that… we have a written contract.”
Taeil shakes his head in disappointment. This rash decision of the team is what they'll be regretting later especially when an informal agreement is raised up. It won’t guarantee a spot to a big fight that easily. It’s like chasing dust.
Taeyong inquires further. “When is this?”
“Next month. We'll grind to prepare you.”
Taeyong knows how sicko McGregor can be in the ring. He has seen some clips of his matches. But if it means being in UBT, he’ll go. “Alright.”
The manager stands up, brushing his pants. “We’ll move locations. I have a gym near the University you graduated from.”
The kingpin will return to the place where he started from rock bottom. It suddenly fills him with nostalgia. His two managers left the room for him to do his thing. Taeyong quickly grabs his phone and texted Doyoung, notifying him of his upcoming arrival.
[Compose Message to: doie]
[9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well.
His phone screen illuminates his striking face as he waits for a reply. Taeyong settles his phone down on the counter to ruffle his hair but Doyoung already responded. His phone vibrates.
[doie]
[9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around. The boys (and someone xD) will surely be glad to see you. Aja!
Taeyong grins. He’s excited to go home as well. A thought lingers on his mind, who’s the ‘someone’ Doyoung is referring to?
The sun is ebbing its way to daylight. It is the day of your defense or as Doyoung calls it doomsday or the Purge. Doyoung left you instructions on how to answer the panel smoothly without having the impression that you’re clueless.
He never spoon feeds you rather letting you do everything on your own. For this defense, he told you to shut up and not blab anything unless asked. And he adds, ‘answer straight to the point and don’t fucking sugarcoat’. Professors grill students until you could no longer retaliate, they are spawns of satan and you are so sure of that.
This defense is the most stressful thing you encounter in your whole college life. An abomination, breaking people apart. Recitations are an exception though as you could always adlib like the stunt Doyoung pulled in his major classes.
The moment you set foot on the university grounds, you hear the cacophony of deafening alarm bells, signalling the students of the start of the first period. You sigh. Despite having to practice the day before (and practically being scolded and grilled by Doyoung), you still can’t calm your nerves. Your face immediately scrunches at the thought of summer classes.
The sun is shining through the large oval in your university. Beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Swarm of boisterous students walked side by side. talking about the same exact thing that has been swimming in your mind lately-- summer. Alas, the whole semester of dread is coming to an end and you cannot longer wait to wear the pink leotard Doyoung jokingly bought you for your birthday. You head straight north passing by the department of physical education. You see the soccer players, in their mighty, flashy maroon uniforms, running over the field. You immediately recognize the familiar figure of Johnny and the way the curvature of his ass sticks out of his shorts. Not that you really enjoy ogling at his ass though but it ain’t just another ass. It's Johnny Seo’s ass, popular, might as well stare at the divine sight before he charges everyone for it. You know of the big guy since you’re living in a small world, he’s friends with your best friend and a good pal of your ex boyfriend. Everything around you will always connect with either Doyoung or your ex.
Johnny has a reputation like Doyoung though. But unlike your best friend being known as a snob, Johnny is known for his massive dick and palpable cockiness in bed. He senses your stare and cranes his neck around to face you. His teammates behind him huddle together to ogle at the female their captain is looking at. He smiles at your direction then waves at you enthusiastically from the field. Lips curl into a smile while giving him a wave. You hear rambunctious woos and boyish whistles from behind when you continue on walking towards your building. Boys.
The familiar mint green building is now in sight. You hug the folders close to your chest like it’s your armor while taking a sharp turn. It leads you down to the right wing but as soon as you are about to enter, a large signage of ‘use the main door’ blocks your way. Your annoyance reaches its peak level while shooting daggers at the locked door. You contemplate, if you were to make a dash for the main door that is a meter away from here, you’ll be late for the first period. And professors always makes the tardy students sing in front and never in your fucking life will do that.
A shout startles you in your place. “Son of a bitch!”
“What the hell are you doing there? Go to your room, dumbass.” Talking about the smart shit that just arrives with his sharp voice lacing with its usual deep suave and timbre that pierces your eardrums early in the morning. His building is just right beside yours. So whether you like it or not, Doyoung will be in sight to annoy the shit out of you like he usually does.
You turn to him. Going to the canteen to eat is tempting but the thought of disappointing Kim Doyoung and his efforts going to waste bites you off. “I’m nervous.”
The female students are eyeing both of you— most are stinky glares from his fangirls. You take a sharp breath and hoist up the strap of your bag properly.
“Just remember what I’ve told you. And don’t abash yourself.” He ruffles your locks and you immediately swat his arm away. The squeals of the girls from behind obliterates both of your gossamer thin patience and remaining one brain cell. Needless to say, you walk up the pathway towards the main door of your building.
The thick choking atmosphere welcomes you. The happy color of mint green from its interior doesn’t conceal the melancholy of the people inside. You hear an upcoming call of your name, but you couldn’t apprehend it clearly because of the continuous murmurs in the hallway. “Y/N!”
You let out a groan of abhorrence as you whip your body around upon the call. But there isn’t a familiar face to chit chat with so you proceed forward but the wind knocked out of your lungs when you were suddenly yanked from behind.
You are about to throw profanities when Dia’s face comes to view greeting you sweetly, “Hi, Y/N!”
You attempt to smile but it looks like you’re suffering with constipation with all your teeth gritted together, “Hey!”
Dia begins. “I can’t wait for the sem to end!” She beams enthusiastically while clinging onto your arms. You struggle to climb the stairs with her hips hitting you sideways.
“Me too.” You exhale while gathering your thoughts. Your minds a mess with the conclusion, summer outfit and the swarm of murmurs of the students in the stairwell. “I plan on getting a tan though or skinny dripping, I don’t know.”
“Oh my! Yes!” she laughs while tugging her lips out almost lost in thought. “Alpha chi Omega is actually planning on a homecoming party.” She smiles cheekily that is way familiar for you. You immediately grin at her being such a saccharine babe.
You raise your brows. “Who’s coming home?”
She shrugs. “I dunno.”
You frown while lost in thought . “Then how did you know about it?”
Dia waggles her eyebrows, a mischievous glint lighting in her eyes. “Of course. I keep tabs on the packing king, Johnny Seo.”
You grimace. “Huh? Packing? Where is Johnny going? I thought it’s a homecoming?”
Dia rolls her eyes heavenwards. You are being so impossible. “Packing as in walking around with a huge dick. My god, are you from the 90s?”
“I’m not. I just don’t go around ogling at... what you call him? Packing Prince.” You make a puking face.
Dia laughs while you mumble under your breath, “You are unbelievable.”
She clicks her tongue and leans in while shushing the words near your year, “I’m not though… hey you wanna know what’s unbelievable?”
It piques your attention, “What?”
“Johnny has the bomb-est ass ever. Like a hundred over ten, would recommend.”
You retreat back and scowl. She laughs at your impending disappointment. But she’s right though, in fact you saw a sight of Johnny’s ass early in the morning. Bomb it is. You shake your head, but a smile is tugging your lips upright, “Whatever you say so.”
Dia is still laughing, spreading positivity in the already sullen hallway in the ground floor. It didn’t last long as you both part ways upon the sight of room 402. You huff, trying to recollect your breath. Stairways will be the cause of your death. Your classmates are either feigning optimism or just dead tired. A voice booms out, alerting the class. You glance and see the person behind the said misery.
“Groups one, kindly present in front. Get ready groups three and five. Say hi to the panel of judges.”
“What in the fucking world?”
“You should have seen it coming.”
“The biggest bugbear of my life is spending summer in university instead of the beach!”
Doyoung gives you a nonchalant look. He immediately pays a visit to your building upon hearing your never-ending cusses at the call a while ago. He stands by the door of your room while his arms are crossed.
He begins, “At least you’re alive, though.”
Doyoung’s lips curling into a mischievous smirk. He cannot hide the fact that he’s impressed that you didn’t undergo a breakdown unlike your classmates and your control towards unyielding resilience.
“I’m not close to being alive. I am deteriorating!” You groan making sure to imbue your tone to complete sarcasm. You thought that the research defense is the endpoint of the semester, but it wasn’t since the professors have something bigger to offer-- more diabolical. The dean of your college disseminates the mandatory summer classes on all year levels to avoid the crashing of major subjects with organization stuff and to somehow lessen the unit overload. The idea is beneficial albeit disheartening especially for those students who already had plans for the summer like you. What a sweet summer in the university. You shoot him out a look, “How are you alive? Despite all of this?”
“Heavy workload and org stuff is the thing that haunts every student. My professor has consulted me about this matter beforehand,” he grabs his phone and glances at it. His chinky eyes widen and he clears his throat. “We’ll be pushing the brave run next sem.”
“Is that the annual event of your sorority that you’ll be running around in the campus, naked?”
Doyoung hisses. “Shut up. It should be kept a secret,” he shrugs. “But, yes.”
Another fact why his sorority is famous among the female students of the university. The brave run is an annual event held by his sorority, which symbolizes "a selfless offering of one's self to the people of the country.’ Running around naked with a mask to conceal their identities. And it’s going to be Doyoung’s first run. He fidgets in his spot while looking at you then at his phone. You cast him a doubtful look, “Do you need some privacy or whatever?”
He looks straight from your shoulder. “No, no. Stay put.”
“I wanna sit. I was standing for hours in front a while ago.”
Doyoung presses his lips in a thin line. He lamely mutters. “I will show you something.” He keeps on fidgeting in his place while glancing sideways. It deeply concerns you because he’ll look at his phone then will grin afterwards. Doyoung never grins. What in the world?
He certainly knows something that you’re completely oblivious about. His phone buzzes again.
[from TY Track]
[1:15] I thought your building is white one? How come you’re in a green one? You have a girlfriend from the nursing department don’t you? Ayeeeeeeeee.
[1:19] im at the third floor lobby,, where are you?? I’m starving!!
Doyoung is on the fourth floor. Currently playing cupid.
He gives you a look with a shit-eating grin lingering on his slender face. Not that he looks unpleasant to the eyes since he’s far away from it but rather handsome. But it greatly aggravates you because since that one message he received this morning, he just won’t knock it off with the annoying grin of his. You really need to know who the hell is responsible for his change of demeanor.
Doyoung is the most misanthropic person you know and he always frowns. Unless he’s with his male friends or with you. Let he’ll freeze first then you’ll see him smile to his ears. He holds a finger near your face, “Wait here.”
You swat his wrist away but before you could knock him off, he’s already marching down the hall.
“Kim Doyoung! Wait!”
You let out an exasperated sigh while playing with your lace to kill out boredom. Dia whistles to capture your attention. You return back inside your room to fix your things and to entertain the sulky Dia. She pouts, “I’m seriously starving! Let’s go to def!”
Def is the university’s cafeteria where both you and the guy who made your heart pound, met.
“Okay hold on. Let me sign the attendance sheet for a while.” You approach the class secretary seated in front. Your back is against the door and a familiar figure looms near the door frame—looking lost.
You’re playing in a full deck. Unaware of the guy who’s once your life, standing behind you.
Taeyong and his team leaves Busan early at four in the morning with the yellow and pink hue of the sky slowly creeping along its way eating out the velvety dark skies. Taeyong drags his feet heavily against the grey pavement with his athletic bag hoisted on his shoulders. The early morning wind gives a chill blow that prickles the skin of the boxer.
Taeil is walking behind him with his daily black coffee in hand and face sullen due to drowsiness. The team is moving at a fast pace and occasional long sighs are heard. Taeyong gawks at the team moving dumbbells, mats, gloves and belts in their black van.
“Does your sorority know you’re coming home?”
Taeyong stares at his manager. His lips tugging upwards. “Yes. I’ve texted one of my friends and suddenly they’re throwing a homecoming party for me.” Taeyong’s chest vibrates with laughter.
Taeil’s lips tugs upward in mischief as he knocks the hood of the van breaking the deafening silence of the early morning. The team immediately scramble inside the van like ants fighting off with seats, dirty banters and shades being thrown against each other.
“I’ll sit here!”
“It’s cold in that spot, I didn’t take a bath!”
Another spits. “The handsomest is gonna seat beside the Kingpin.”
Another voice holler. “Oi. Oi. No!”
The manager let out a tired sigh while adjusting the shoulder bag on his right shoulder. He reaches for his back pocket and wipes the droplets of sweats on his temple. “Let’s go, before these guys kill themselves.”
He calls out with a stern tone rolling out of his tongue it immediately calms the chaotic boys, sheepishly fixing themselves while uttering incoherent apologies. They begin filling up with the manager taking the empty spot beside the driver’s seat. The rest scatter themselves on the spots they deem as comfortable.
Taeil shoots Taeyong a knowing look and juts his head towards the empty seat beside him near the driver’s seat. Taeil reclines his back on the leathered seats and heaves a long tired sigh. “It’s good to be back. I wish they were preparing roses for your comeback. It felt like Disney, like for shits really.”
Taeyong grins. “Doyoung and Johnny told me about it. Alpha is scrambling like ants.”
Taeil’s voice lowers for a second. His thoughts are swimming in an endless swirl of abyss. “Fighting with McGregor could cause you collateral damage.”
The boxer rests his hand on his nape and closes his eyes for a moment. He knows. He whispers, “I know. May the odds play with my side.”
“This is not about the odds now, he could destroy you, I’m serious!” Taeil scoffs while scanning the view of the early and still asleep city of Busan. “Namjoon fought with him once, and the boy went home with broken ribs and hand fractures,” he trails. “It’s still early to back out. I’m really worried.”
“I am already destroyed, hyung. Ever since I chose this over engineering and leaving like I could really live through all of this…”
“Hyung, if I back out… all of these would just be a whole damned joke.”
“Please…don’t take McGregor easily.”
Taeyong attempts to dismiss the growing anxiety in his chest. One step at a time. One punch at a time, one round at a time. He sets a self mantra. “I won’t.”
The heavy traffic greets them the moment they make their way to the city arriving exactly at twelve. Upon arrival, the team immediately unloads their baggage on the gym’s connected apartment while the manager nurses several calls about the match with the upcoming weigh in, face off, and budgets.
Taeyong glances at the gym’s interior. It's a rundown one with a large ring in the center, barbell and dumbbells on the floor and a large mirror from across where he is standing. The lights flicker above him, casting a warm glow of yellow on his face. Taeil squeezes his shoulder, surprised at how he’s so rigid. Taeil begins, “Johnny gave me a call and he said that you should get your flat ass in the university.”
Taeyong throws his head back, mortified. “What? Okay, fat ass.”
Taeil rolls his eyes. “My ass is bomb.”
Taeyong raises his brows. “Squatting?”
“Yeah. Every night, wanna see?”
“I have my own ass.”
“Yeah…a flat one, unfortunately.”
Taeyong grimaces. “My ass is ‘bomb’ too.”
“Keep on dreaming flat ass.”
“Don’t be rude!”
The familiar name of the university greets Taeyong the moment he arrives. Doyoung notifies him of his whereabouts; in the medical department. Taeyong furrows his brows, just when did Doyoung shift his course? He said he’d die being a polsci student.
Taeyong carries himself towards the familiar sidewalk of this university where he graduated highschool and was supposed to study engineering at.
However his fate makes a whole turn when he’s casted by an agent when he’s buying bread from the downtown pancake house. And it all just happens just like that, him leaving all of a sudden, ending everything at his loved one’s disposal.
His boxer facade falters as soon as he steps foot on the familiar grounds. With him here, he isn’t the Kingpin rather just the ordinary Lee Taeyong. He moves agilely, a thing he learned in boxing. His skin shimmers under the hot glimmering sun with his perspiration glistening against his forearms. Taeyong’s doe eyes scans the tall college buildings, looking precisely for a ‘tall building that is colored green with a bunch of people wearing white uniforms’ as per Kim Doyoung.
A thought erupts in him, it’s been years since his last visit here. Everything before his eyes is entirely unknown for him. He spends a good minute searching for the building while running a hand over his silver locks that are haphazardly tousled in different directions.
He ignores the flirtatious call of the students. The girls let out exhilarating squeals when he asks about the building and points behind him. Just as he’s about to go, someone yanks his arm dragging him away towards the opposite direction that planted a frown upon his face. He tries to dismiss them as kindly as he could when he sees that there is no way that they’ll be letting him go especially when he looks like a hot mess.
There’s actually no use in flirting anymore as he’s still emotionally invested for one girl that is you.
His eyes trail over the unfamiliar building and contemplate for a good minute before entering. The aura of the place elicits the same vibe in the boxing gym of his manager, bright by nature but something elicits off-ness more on sombre.
His long legs easily climb the series of stairs until he reaches level three and glances around the place. Searching for the familiar figure of Kim Doyoung but he finds nothing even a silhouette of the boy. He fishes out for his phone to send him a text, the mobile vibrating after his taps.
[from doie]
[1:17] we’ll eat later!!!1 i need to show you someone oops something11!! :D
[1:18] i'm coming!!! hold on!! Waaait
Taeyong hears rapid footsteps then a high pitch call of his name. A sudden tackle takes him by surprise. “I missed you, hyung!”
Doyoung holds him at shoulder, his eyes examining his whole body. “You've grown so well and— damn.”
The boxer standing before him is drastically different from the person he last saw two years ago. He’s not as fit rather skinny but the way he puts it now he’s got a massive glow up that takes him by surprise. With Taeyong by growing inches, his skinny fit that is now lean that is packed with muscles due to the strenuous training he’s put into and the eye catching tattoos that're lingering on his arms. He smirks at the sight of your familiar face minimalistically tattooed on his forearm.
He inwardly chuckles. Fools.
Doyoung didn’t waste the fraction of his time and drags a protesting Taeyong all the way at level four. Taeyong throws a questionable look, “What are we here for? Is Donghyuck in Nursing? Wait… are we here for him?”
“You’ll see… and no, let the moon be green first then we’ll see him here.”
“Oh.”
A chill runs down Taeyong’s spine. The heavy traffic they went through made him thirsty to the bone—now he wanted to drain his bladder. He calls out while eyeing the figure ahead of him, “Doyoung?”
Doyoung answers him with a shit-eating grin that made Taeyong think to himself. Is Doyoung in love at the moment? “Yeah?”
“I need to pee. The traffic sucks, I had to drink to keep myself entertained.”
He hums, not processing every word Taeyong says. He calculates everything in his disposal. From his distance, he can see your back facing the door where he’ll lead Taeyong into. Thus, hitting two lovefools.
“Fancy. Go over to that room.” Taeyong glances at the room Doyoung is pointing at. He didn’t question the boy further because his bladder is asking for a fucking break. He slowly approaches the room while lost in his thoughts. He leans on the doorframe and asks where the lavatory is. Then, immediately jogs down the corridor without a word.
Doyoung stands there, expectant and all smiley. Until he sees a different face entertaining Taeyong and your figure marching away with your friend, Dia. Doyoung attempts to call for your attention but you’re already out of earshot. He clicks his tongue in irritation. Cupid fails.
You sluggishly drag your feet inside your room. Doyoung is nowhere to be found until you hear muffled singing so you reckon he’s in the shower doing his thing. You press your lips into a thin line while casting a look around your ransacked room that has been untouched for months. It may be the course of adrenaline pushing and so you cleaned.
Doyoung walks around the shared place without a top that isn’t a sight that makes you utterly surprised anymore. You both share collective memories together, all deep and humiliation. So seeing him in his boxers early in the morning isn’t disturbing anymore. You do though, when he smiles.
Doyoung squints, eyeing your figure going from one part of your room to another. He knows you don’t have plans on throwing yourself into the inviting city to lash out your stress from the months you have spent in university but rather dancing. Unbeknownst to you, he’s planning something to stop you from doing your ridiculous dances in front of the farm animals sparing them the ridiculous sight after all he’s an animal rights advocate.
Tonight is the homecoming party for Taeyong that surprisingly spreads out in the university like a wildfire. It will be damn-ed as the probability of both of you meeting might not be high due to the flood of party-goers rushing for the free alcohol and the said sorority and because of your lazy ass. Doyoung dons his blank tank top and ruffles the damp mop of raven locks above his head.
You glance from your door and see your best friend have an absolute glow up like he doesn’t look dead just from days ago. There’s no doubt that Doyoung has his own ravishing features-- his scar, tall nose, pink lips, and the over-all enticing eyes that elicits a mysterious aura.
“Where are you going?”
Instead of answering your inquiry he taps furiously on his phone. You can sense the infuriating spark that glowers on the boy. He finally looks up at you. “There’s a party in Alpha.”
“You’ll be staying there?”
He coos. The hidden sneer you can hear that rolls out of his tongue with great clarity that immediately brings your eyes heavenwards. “Why? You’ll miss me?”
“As if.”
“I will be staying there. You should go, though?” Doyoung absolutely knows how such a party pooper you were that you’d rather stay home than mingling in a random college party or whatever social gatherings. Your reason? The signature ‘I hate going out, Kim Doyoung’.
It is part of the practice of his sorority to give out roses to a homecoming member, as significant as a welcoming gift and roses have a deep meaning for the frat. He volunteers to bring the roses for Taeyong since he has a cupid business to attend. He purposely left the roses in his room for you to bring your lazy ass in the sorority house and deliver the parcel to Taeyong. He grins at the thought.
You grunt loudly, generally having no qualms on concealing your obvious irritation. “Why do you keep on grinning? It scares me.”
Doyoung raises a brow then chuckles afterwards. “I’m just happy that I will finally get laid after these past months of hellish semester,” he trails off and gives you a knowing look. “Bye!”
It got you off guard. Kim Doyoung getting laid?
He beams at your surprised face. “I will be late. The alumni might be there anytime soon.”
“Who is the alumni?” This has been the talk of the town next to the homecoming party. You have no idea who it is despite your best friend being in on the said sorority.
Doyoung runs his hands over his hair again and gives you a lopsided smile. “Secret.”
He makes a dash for the door leaving you hanging and hungry for answers. Knowing him, he’ll never spill no matter how you squeeze him into doing so. It frustrates you as curiosity is getting the best of you.
Doyoung didn't bother to spill the person because for all he knows you’ll be meeting him anytime soon. It’s Lee Taeyong.
It's eight in the evening and surprisingly you were being productive at bare minimum. You try to uplift your mood by beautifying your room to look like it’s been owned by a lady not some random drunktard. After cleaning, you prepare dinner but the constant ringing of your phone disturbs you mid-way. You didn’t spare the called ID a glance for you know who the call is from.
You snarl. “What?”
The chaotic music in his background is making it hard for you to comprehend what the hell he was trying to convey. His voice lowers two tones down his usual. “Hey, can you bring the roses here? I forgot to bring it with me.”
You immediately roll your eyes. “And why should I do that?”
Doyoung on the other hand is trying to rake up his brain for possible things to coax you to bring your ass and the roses in the party. The alcohol might be taking a toll on him but it’s helping him to think of an easy plan to bring you here without any questions arising from your mouth. “I’ll treat you to dinner.” And just like that.
You let your pride be damned. A free dinner is always a key to do favors. You huff. “Where is it placed?”
Doyoung immediately grins. “At my room, on the plush chair by the window.”
You cannot decipher how complicated your best friend is sometimes. It aggravates you. He never forgets his things and you think that he is doing this on purpose just to make you walk out of the shared apartment. But whatever his intentions are, the free dinner he coaxed you with is promising. You walk inside his room and the sight of his perfectly tucked bed welcomes you, the bundle of crimson red roses sits by the grey chair just beside his window. You didn’t know much of his sorority’s practice nor the significance of the rose, but you chose not to further question the frat’s motive behind it as the free food is your topmost concern.
You scramble out of Doyoung’s room to fix your dishevelled appearance. You grab the blue summer dress on your bed and thrash in an oversized cardigan to spice out the look then you pumped some gloss and ran a blusher on your cheeks.
Damn the man who spoils your plans on binge watching Netflix. Damn Kim Doyoung. And damn you for biting on his bait.
You made a beeline for the door, your phone in hand and the roses in the other.
It’s gonna be a long and young night.
For a summer night, the wind is surprisingly chilly and not humid. The night sky is clear with the stars twinkling brightly along the perfectly arched moon. The walk to Alpha chi omega’s house is not that long by car but unfortunately, the university carpool is not available and so here you were walking to the farthest side of the university.
It doesn’t take you long to locate the house out of all the similar frat houses lined up together like building blocks. The house that belongs to the hosting sorority is booming out loud with obnoxious music and the notable crowd of wasted college students going in and out of the main door. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol. The sight of red cups litters the front yard and the large ‘homecoming’ banner is perched up the front porch of the frat house. You feel out of place just by standing out there awkwardly with a bouquet of roses in hand while mentally cursing out and throwing imaginary daggers on Kim Doyoung. If it wasn’t for the free food, you would never be here.
A familiar ass caught your attention but it isn’t Johnny’s but Mark Lee’s. A sophomore and a civil engineer major that you bump into occasionally because of Doyoung. You approach his figure and his dishevelled state really caught you off-guard. He’s standing in his overall glory; with black tee that clings onto his lean torso and grey sweatpants. His high cheekbones stand out and his cheeks are slightly flushed due to two reasons you are sure of, alcohol and the cramped crowd inside.
You clear your throat as you attempt to voice out your concern however it comes out as a mere squeak. “Do you know where Doyoung is?”
Mark gives you a knowing smile while giving you directions on Doyoungs whereabouts. There’s something off about Mark’s sly smile. Confusion undulates on your soft features which made the younger grin even more.
Another sophomore jumps into the picture. He sends Mark reeling on his position but the younger boy shoots up a grin as an answer to Mark’s scowl. His tan skin glows under the poor lighting on the front porch of their sorority house and he looks beautiful nevertheless. Haechan brings the red cup to his plush lips, his throat bobbing down with every gulp of the beverage. He breaths while giving you a mischievous grin. “Well, someone’s about to cross paths with someone.” He makes sure to give emphasis on the word someone while grinning up to Mark.
You raise your brows. “Yes… Doyoung.”
Haechan clicks his tongue. “May the odds be with you, y/n.” They continue on gulping their drinks and leaving you questioning what the hell are they trying to imply. It seems like they are trying to point out someone is about to meet you but you weren’t sure who?
Making sure you were out of earshot, the two boys fished out for their phones. Typing in the same text flying into their minds.
‘She’s in, make sure Taeyong is in the damn kitchen.’
They know. Except for you and Taeyong. Talk about thrill.
You stalk away and enter the house. Irritation bubbles inside your system like a brook. It feels as if everyone knows something that you should be aware of. No matter how hard you try to think of a person who you can possibly meet in here, there’s none in mind. You try to wipe it away by mentally taking a note that what you are doing is a commission; a full course meal paid by Kim Doyoung.
The sight inside of the house is quite a scene; a wild scene to be exact. Typical. Bodies are grinding each other by the beat of the hired DJ, sweat and alcohol as well as humidity. You squeeze yourself through the crowd of wild college students. Some sort of liquid splashes your skin but you paid no attention to it.
This is why you hate going out. The only time you have been dragged into a party is with Taeyong. No, it wasn’t obnoxious but rather magical. Anything done with Taeyong is always spectacular, he makes all the mundane things dull to extra.
That was during the last years of highschool when he asked if you could go with him to this frat party and you obliged. It was also in the same setting of a summer night, young and chill. Deja vu.
Taeyong holds onto your hips that night while he glowed perfectly underneath the pale moonlight. The dusk may have taken its way that time but you can still remember how bright he glows like a crazed halo. Maybe the reason why you can still find your way to the outskirts of the university where the sorority houses are found is because he already brought you here. And everything, every memory you have shared with him is always indelible.
You can remember a quote from Fitzgerald. ‘So we beat on boats against the currents, borne back ceaselessly into the past’. You find yourself spacing out remembering how his soft lips brushes against your pinna, whispering words that replays over and over and over again. Both of your bodies stayed close, swaying with the melodic beat that the speakers blasted up. It was always Taeyong, his scar, his lips, his eyes that are always so alive. It was always him, always.
Taeyong leaned over saying the words that no man you tried dated ever uttered to you. “You are my sweetest feeling that I know.”
You beamed up to him. “I think my soul is in love with yours.”
And you will always be. And nostalgia hits. You miss Taeyong. He has so much space filled inside your heart.
You finally squeeze yourself past the hungry and wasted crowd and head towards the kitchen where Mark instructed you to go. You narrow your eyes searching for the familiar figure of your bestfriend but he wasn’t there, not even a trace of his silhouette.
The kitchen is bustling with alcohol. Piles of beer cans, half empty bottles of wine and few bottles of soft drinks dominated the sleek black granite countertop. You walk near the kitchen island where several drinks are offered placed haphazardly allowing the people to nurse their own drinks. You had your back facing the opposite hall that leads to the dining area while clutching the roses for your dear life.
Taeyong is leaning against the wall facing the dining area where his highschool friends are currently at. The rose ceremony was delayed because of Doyoung and so he busied himself by trying to catch up with his old friends.
“How’s life so far, Taeyong?”
Taeyong smiles, he’s always as fresh as raindrops. “Usual.”
They laugh. “How ‘usual’ is usual though?”
Taeyong thought to himself. It is bland, empty and he always finds himself staring past the mirror trying to remember how your face looks like since the last glance he had was exactly two years ago. He shrugs his shoulders and lifts the red cup to his lips. The alcohol rakes his throat, foreign. “A couple of punches here, training there, matches here, and rings over there. Usual.”
They continue on carrying their own conversation on which Taeyong lost interest. He just stares, his mind traveling and wandering. A high pitched screech alerts him, he immediately settles the cup down, the contents splashing over the dinner table. A woman is on her knees, clutching her lips with her hands.
Taeyong immediately crouches down. “Hey, are you okay?”
She slurs and Taeyong tries to comprehend what she is trying to convey. “Wuh-teeeeer…”
“Huh?”
“Wuuuuh-teeer…”
Water.
He immediately assists the girl to the kitchen sink. Dragging her slumped body slowly towards the kitchen floor. He tries to call out someone in hopes to help him with the inconvenience. But the kitchen is surprisingly empty.
It’s a plan to have two souls meet together in one. But fate must’ve fucked up the plans of the brotherhood. For the one soul is mending a random wasted college girl and the other one is fuming in anger.
You storm out of the kitchen when you are about to brandish a cocktail while waiting for Doyoung. Someone approaches you, pouring a beer into a red plastic cup.
“All right, babe, you’re free tonight?” He nods, concentrating on getting his foam right while looking at you intently. You didn’t know who this guy was, but bold of him to be so overly confident. Pity he was a massive stoner from the looks of his red eyes. And he’s not, never, your type.
“I’m not interested.”
His eyebrows went all sarky. “Why, you got a date?”
You face him entirely. “Look. I told you I’m not interested so don’t get too overly friendly and get the hell out of my face.”
He settles his cup on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning over to you, clearly invading your personal space. “Why should I do that?”
You wrinkle your nose at the smell of his breath. “God. I’m out of here.”
You let your feet drag you away from the party.
Oblivious to the failure, the other members of the sorority gather themselves around the front porch obnoxiously betting to one another. They have this one picture in mind, a painting of Michaelangelo, the creation of David. Where two fingers connect. Little did they know. There isn’t a meeting that happened in the first place.
“I bet my ass, those two have already met!” Hyuck yells. “Homeboy must’ve scored!”
And they all holler at once. Then, they hear someone clearing their throat.
“Goodbye. I’m heading home.”
The boy’s eyes widens at the sight of you at the door, fuming. Doyoung is at the end of the staircase, examining you. He inquires, “Did you meet someone?”
You roll your eyes, “Yes, you,” you approach him and hand the roses. “Someone must’ve been so drunk he directed me to the kitchen when you are actually here.” You shoot Mark a look as soon as you finish your sentence and he answers with a sheepish grin.
You turn to Doyoung, “Treat me to a nice dinner tomorrow.”
It’s confusing for him. “Wait… you really didn’t meet someone? Why are you leaving so sudden?”
The boys quiet down suddenly, all confused with the matter.
“Oh, I did meet someone.”
“Yeah?” Sparks of excitement ignited inside Doyoung's chest.
“Yeah…” you sigh. “A fucktard to be exact.”
Doyoung’s brows furrow for a moment then realization hits him. There’s never an encounter that happened like he initially expected to. The roses didn’t reach Taeyong. And you were also mad which is uncommon. You clear your throat again, “I will head home.”
You lightly smack Doyoung cheeks and head off.
“No way Taeyong is…a fucktard though?”
“Man, go home you’re drunk.”
“I heard my name.” All heads whip towards the direction of the voice. Taeyong.
A confused silence filled their friend circle before Mark interrupted mid-way, “No way Ty....”
They all groan in disappointment. The roses shenanigans didn’t work.
Johnny slurs. “Maaaaaan, if someone didn’t get a shot. I’ll be getting my own shot.” And he stumbles on his own feet and lands on Mark and accidentally kisses him on the lips.
Mark immediately pushes the taller guy away from him. A scowl paints his face while wiping his lips furiously. “Maaaan, what the fuck are youu doin’ maaan?”
Johnny yells, “No homo, bro!” And continues on peppering the protesting Mark with kisses.
Sunday arrives faster than you have expected it to be. The professors were much more considerate with the classes and decided to have an interval for each class so it’ll be less of a burden for the students. After the party from Doyoung’s sorority everything seems to be a cultural reset from partying to lessons real quick. This is college and you are really accustomed to it.
You ponder, there is just something—sort of difference in the air surrounding you and Doyoung—something like he’s been plotting something so evil or mischievous and it kneads in your chest that you’re the prey. Or whatever that is.
He doesn’t say a word when you drag him to a restaurant of your choice but you are pretty much sure that deep inside he’s cursing you with all his might. You try to annoy him, testing his patience yet he answers you with a forced smile. But the way his eyes spark with such animosity is enough evidence to show how infuriated he is that he needs to pay for your dinner. And too bad for him, you have a big appetite.
“What do you fancy eating today? Stir fried rice, or,” he stares dumbfoundedly at the large menu while scratching the back of his head. He mumbles incoherently, “I will just go with the black bean noodles.”
Doyoung’s body turns around towards your direction, “What do you want?”
You state all of your orders and you can clearly see the way Doyoung’s face grimaces. The cashier jots down the orders and Doyoung pays the bill with a pained expression ebbing his face. It was beyond entertaining when he was clutching the bill so tightly, the cashier had to muster such great effort to pull away the bill out of his iron grip. It was his fault anyways; he’s being such an idiot.
“How’s your major?” you beam while mixing the fried rice. The mouth-watering sight in front of you made your stomach turn somersaults. Has it been months since you have eaten legit food? You didn’t know but right now you just want to stuff yourself up. Free food is always much more tastier than those that you pay for.
“I’m taking up three units for fundamentals of political science,” he blows up the searing hot noodles and slurps it all. Doyoung’s cheeks puffs as he chomps loudly on his food.
There’s a deafening silence between both of you. Minding your own businesses until Doyoung’s phone rings obnoxiously, disturbing each other’s peace. He picks up the vibrating phone with his lithe fingers and scowls at the caller ID, “What?”
You stare at him in silence. Still devouring the freshly served food on the table. Doyoung dramatically settles his phone on the table. An expression of agony painting his slender face. You ask, “What?”
He never tries to conceal the words he just spatted. Making you wanna hide away in embarrassment as the other customers shot you both dirty looks. “I want to poop.”
It’s taking a whole lot of effort for you to not headbutt the raven haired boy that is sheepishly grinning at you. You really do. The straightforwardness of Kim Doyoung can be excruciating for the people around him and you are not an exception.
You grit your teeth, “Then go! I don’t have the loo with me! Jesus Christ!”
He raises his brows and settles his chopsticks on the table. He clutches his chest. “After the good deed I have done to you, this is what you are gonna pay me back? You’re heartless.”
Alright, the weight of his statement has hit you straight to the gut. You try with plenty of effort not to shoot him a leer. You clear your throat and push away the growing impatience as you hoist your bag to your shoulders ready to get something for him. With the conscience card that he has recently pulled, you know he wants you to get him something. “What do you want?”
He smiles and uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height emitting this smug superiority. “Gatorade.”
You squint your eyes and muster the deadliest death glare you can throw towards him. “You’re lying like… what is the gatorade for? You’re clearly making me pay you in return!”
He frowns at your claim. “I’m dehydrated. I chugged down plenty of beer, do you think that’ll make my stomach happy? Do you want me to fart on you to further support my claim?”
You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You’re gross.”
“I’m just trying to support my claim.”
“How? By broadcasting your physical state?”
He tries to open his mouth for another retort yet you immediately wave your hands in defeat. Bickering with him is like talking to a smart wall. He will try to twist everything until you want to give up, like practically shoving your head underwater. And the fact that he’s a political science student, of course arguing is one of his best specialties.
You left as soon as both of you finished your meals. You rake up your brain of possible stores that sell Gatorade and the first thing that has popped into your mind was the convenience store on the east avenue that used to be you and Taeyong’s favorite spot. The memories flood your brain.
“What does it taste like?” Taeyong asks, his brown orbs staring at you with such longing.
“Sweet.”
He raises his brows, “Oh?”
“Yeah, have a taste,” you offer him the sponge cake you’ve been munching a while ago. You extend your arm in his direction and scroll absently on your phone. Before you can even complain about why it is taking him a long time to have a taste, his lips are already smashed against yours.
Goosebumps immediately rises up to its wake upon the feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours. This is your favorite feeling, something that only Taeyong can do to you. His tongue grazes your lower lip in a deliciously slow pace of which made you enthralled in the process. In response, you part your mouth to meet him halfway.
He pulls back and smiles at you. “It’s so sweet, like you.”
You immediately blink to snap away from your reverie. You whisper underneath your breath, “Focus, y/n.”
Two years. Two fucking years have passed yet you are still drowning with the memories of him.
The chime resonates in the store, signaling your recent arrival. The cashier gives you a curt nod then returns to sort out the products that lay on the countertop. You immediately made a beeline for the freezers at the farthest part of the store and grabbed the striking blue drink that appeared similarly like those occasional highlights on Doyoung’s hair. You sigh while clutching the cold beverage, “Just like his stupid highlights.”
It happens so fast that you cannot decipher the scene that unfolds before you. A figure looms behind you grabbing a watermelon smoothie, his body slightly clashing on yours when you attempt to walk towards the cashier. He is clearly towering over your height and his back is facing you. The guy’s shampoo or cologne has a tinge of a melon undertone that really reminds you of Taeyong of which derives from the fact that he is standing so close to you. Secondly, you can feel the humming warmth that radiates off his body. You gulp hard.
You mentally curse at tangling yourself in an awkward situation. You should leave yet you find your face heating up, stunned with your brain freezing. You pause for a good minute to observe the stranger.
A chill runs down your spine at the sudden feeling and the proximity. You clearly know that this guy is a stranger, but there is a sudden feeling erupting inside you and your mind is coaxing you that he isn’t. He’s not a stranger. You stare at his back, trying to rake up who possibly this guy is. He had a mop of grey hair, dangling earrings on each side and a driven aura. You reckon he is handsome as well, judging by the way he can carry himself through the store. Your mind is in a state of an endless blackhole, empty. All you could think is the fact that his alluring scent has you biting inside of your cheeks and ogling at him shamelessly.
The guys must be feeling the heavy weight of your gaze from behind. And so, he turns his head slightly to his right giving you the sight of his ungodly sharp jawline. You didn’t get a good sight of his eyes since it’s covered by the occasional strands of his titanium colored hair. You blink hard, that fucking jaw is really familiar. The fucking tall nose is familiar. The guy nods his head in veneration and whispers a small “sorry.” And stalks away. You hear the bell chimes.
Your heart starts to slam against your chest out of nowhere when you finally formed all the puzzle pieces together. That familiar voice lacing with softness and care. The hair, the jaw, the nose, the way he dresses. No, this isn’t just one of your imaginations. You know, it’s him, isn’t he?
You make your way through the snacks aisle to chase after the guy. He’s just inches away from the door when you suddenly grab his jacket sleeve. You smile, “Taeyong?”
“Uhm… do I know you?”
Your expression suddenly drops. The guy you just pull in is not the guy from earlier. He looks foreign with his hair in the shade of burgundy. You sheepishly apologize, but it comes out as a mere squeak from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I think I have mistaken you for someone else.”
“No shit. It’s alright.”
You pay for the beverage and snatch the parcel. You scramble to your feet quickly in hopes of searching for him. You know deep down, you’re sure of it. You crane your neck as far as you can possibly go until a voice laced from behind.
“What the fuck are you doing? And where’s my drink?”
You whip your body towards him and hand him the Gatorade.
Doyoung frowns. He tries to conceal the growing annoyance from his insides. Trying to act like his stomach frustrates him but the truth is, he is actually infuriated by the fact that Taeyong left the store so soon before you could even reach him. And he sees the scene unfold to himself. He huffs. With all the meticulous planning he thinks of, plus the help of his friends but still it isn’t enough that everything is derailing his momentum. Not just you and Taeyong but fucking fate itself.
At this moment all Doyoung thinks of is a ceasefire, he gives up. He’s one everything—including faking an upset stomach and practically broadcasting that he wants to shit just for the sake of both of you because Johnny notifies him of Taeyong’s whereabouts. Doyoung’s face is quite red by the chilly wind of Sunday night. He announces after trying to cool down his frustrations, “I’m going home.”
You raise your brow, “But you said we’ll still eat downtown?”
Doyoung glares. Now he’s back with his usual demeanor that you could easily taunt by throwing him a series of provocations. But you choose not to, he seems to be in a really bad mood. Not to mention diarrhea lies that you seem to be picking up. “I’m mending a stupid stomach.”
And before you could pull him back, his long legs already take him a long distance from yours.
Your feet backs up automatically and blend into the crowd. You cover your cheeks with your hands trying to wipe off the chilly wind that kisses you. Your summer dress’s hem flies after the sway of your hips. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins due to the last encounter with the stranger in the convenience store. His alluring scent is still fresh in your mind and it only reminds you of the guy you are still obviously in love with. You shouldn’t be anymore, but there is still a spark that ignites through your chest. And in your mind there is this feeling of familiarity that lights up the fire that has long died two years ago. It’s not just a plain sense of belonging though, it’s Taeyong, and he always feels like home. It’s been two years since Taeyong ended everything nicely. Yet something is quite strange as the feeling of longing for him suddenly went away with just a simple encounter that you weren’t even sure if it’s him in the first place.
You utter to yourself, “It’s him, I’m sure of it.”
But the never ending question plays around your mind like a broken record. Are you really sure? Are you ready to face him after two long years?
You hug your figure as you make your way through the same familiar tracks of your favorite pancake house in the main district. You should be home right now, yet the alluring scent of pancakes has you dragging your feet into their shop.
The small shabby shop that is designed with occasional aesthetic trinkets makes it stand out amongst the industrial buildings beside it. It is bustling and alive with the swarm of people going in and out of their main door, stomachs full and satisfied faces. You enter the door swiftly, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes thrills inside your nostrils. The familiar tune of summer by Calvin Harris blasts on the speakers in the small diner.
When I met you in the summer
To my heartbeat sound
We fell in love
As the leaves turned brown
The diner is very crowded tonight. You struggle to go past through the crowds but you understand, the pancakes they sell here is to die for.
And we could be together baby
As long as skies are blue
You act so innocent now
But you lied so soon
When I met you in the summer
Your face immediately lights up when the cashier hands you the awe-striking sight of the freshly cooked pancakes, flooding with maple syrup with occasional strawberries there and frostings that adorn the stacks. You took a whiff of the familiar cologne with a watermelon undertone from a while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus especially when a pancake is making you so thrilled to eat.
The bustling sound of the city mixes with the catchy tune of summer and you find yourself dancing slightly along it’s melody. The lights above you cast a warm yellow glow on your face while you are waiting for a change. You answer the cashier with a smile when she hands you the cash. When you turn around, it wasn’t the aesthetic decoration of the diner that surprises you. But your ex boyfriend’s handsome face comes to your view. Your heart pounds inside your chest, yes you were longing for him, and there he is. Fate plays.
When I met you in summer.
You whisper but Taeyong manages to hear that soft call that he fucking miss so much. Those plump lips of yours that utter his name with such love and endearment, “Taeyong.”
It takes you, well, a whole hour to plop down and listen to your best friend rant about you and Taeyong. The way he did plan everything but according to him,
“Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. But I’m glad though, even if I look like a villain trying to overthrow you two.”
You just know that he is beyond frustrated that he didn’t get the both of you meet with his own mirthful ways but nevertheless, he is happy. You, on the other hand, are still shocked. Not that you had a bitter feeling, but Taeyong really had a drastic change compared to two years ago. You barely even know him.
It comes to your knowledge that he is really famous now, with his alias Kingpin plastered all over the city. He got home for a match with this Gregory guy that you haven’t heard of which is the fact that you are oblivious to it, all of it. Taeyong was stunned that you didn’t know anything about him or boxing, and you felt bad and so you made a mental note to research about it and him. He looks much more handsome than ever. With his doe eyes that hold a strong sense of contradiction, it’s strong full of aura and fire yet soft and endearing at the same time. The favorite rose like scar is still prominent underneath his right eye. His nose. His lips, those lips, it takes you an ounce of effort to hold back and not to think of unnecessary thoughts while observing the way how slow his mouth opens whenever he speaks or how pinkish it appears.
Doyoung asks you while he plops himself comfortably on your bed. “What happened in the pancake house?”
It is awkward.
After you whisper his name it feels like everything stopped. Both of you are like statues glued to your spots, holding deep eye contact. You can feel yourself flustered underneath his strong gaze. Those gaze that gives you an impression that he’s been undressing you already just with those eyes. It lasts for seconds, until you are both shushed by the staff for the queue is getting long.
You flinch but relax the moment after when Taeyong’s hands found its way to your hips. Just like old times. He didn’t utter a word, instead he’d silently lead you to the table just near the door. You immediately elicit a gasp when the warmth of his hands suddenly disappeared. You blink hard then place your plate down and silently nibble on the edges of the pancake waiting for Taeyong’s arrival.
Now that he’s much nearer, you can smell his strong scent. It doesn’t hurt your nose but the watermelon undertone stays in your nose for a while. A chill runs down your smile when he has plopped down comfortably in his seat giving you a fresh smile that makes your heart pound against your chest out of nowhere.
Taeyong is itching to talk to you. He clears his throat, “So… I didn’t know you were actually staying here.”
You really couldn’t get a control of your voice, instead it came out really weak and not as strong as you hoped it would be. Out of all moments, your body is slowly betraying you upon the sight of the beautiful Taeyong. You really pray that he doesn’t catch you on. “I didn’t reach the quota in Missouri, and then the application period for Hansville is already closed. So I just stayed, I hate new enviro—”
Just as you could mention the environment, Taeyong already did. He gives you a playful look, “Environment?” There’s actually no point in small talk, because Taeyong knows everything about you but he did just for the sake of seeing you, your lips, your beauty, he’s risking it all.
You feel your chest vibrate with laughter, “You couldn’t blame me though, I hate people.”
Taeyong grins. But his eyes are glimmering of darkness that surfaces his orbs. Taeyong knows and he sees it all, his overall effect on you. His lips start to stretch more into a wolfish grin while inching closer to you.
You instantly gulp while staring at him back. “Why?”
“Are you really sure about that, y/n sweetheart?” His breath smells like mint that fans out your cheeks when he slowly dragged those words from his tongue. Casting instant warmth over your cheeks and activating your gooseflesh.
You find yourself struggling for words upon the catch of his old nickname for you. Especially when he’s in this state, the usual laid back manner. You hate people alright, but you had exceptions like Dia, Doyoung and unfortunately him as well. He immediately retracts from slouching and straightens up his posture. He licks his bottom lips slowly. Honestly, watching Taeyong is making you suffer internally.
“I really missed you, y/n.” He says, his voice echoing with deep timber that laces with velvet and sweet. But those words aren't imbued with sarcasm or mockery rather laced with deep sincerity.
Those words somehow pinches you. You do right? But there is something holding you back. Fear? You let out a grin but it looked really forced with all your teeth gritted. “It was good seeing you again, Taeyong.” You clear your throat for the nth time and try to push out the strange feeling away in your gut.
Both of you finish up your pancakes and he offers you a walk to your apartment. Both of you are not speaking letting the summer wind speak for both of you. The familiar building welcomes your sight, there is light in your unit’s window so you reckon Doyoung is still with the world. Taeyong clears his throat and stops in his tracks, “I guess this is your home, no?”
You smile, “Yes.”
He approaches you with such agility in an astounding manner. You catch a whiff of those familiar fruity scents again when he leans closer to you. In response you immediately shut your eyes, expecting. But there are no kisses delivered. Way to go and make yourself a fool.
He chuckles. “Can I get your number?”
Your whole face heats up as if you’ve been submerged in a tub of boiling water. You open your eyes and divert your gaze away from his playful ones. “Of course, Hand me your phone.”
“Just scribble it down my forearm.”
“What?”
“My phone died but I got some marker, so just jot the digits down.” He fishes for the pen and hands it to you. His calloused hands brushing yours, and those small forms of touch still delivers the extreme effects to your body.
Those sinful arms. Your fingers are shaking while jotting your numbers down, his bulging veins are too much of a distraction especially whenever he flexes it.
You bid him goodbye and speed walk away to enter your unit, missing the smile that ghosts his lips at your marching figure.
You couldn’t wipe Taeyong’s images that night from your mind and so does he. Hell, If you can just see how those smile never leaving his face at his unexpected meeting with you.
The sound of a rustling bedsheet snaps you to reality.
You stare at Doyoung. “It was okay.”
His brows arch upwards as if mocking you. “Liar.”
Heaven knows it wasn’t just okay, you indeed enjoyed having him as company.
An exasperated groan leaves out your body as the bell rang obnoxiously signaling the end of the final period. You immediately hoist your bag over your shoulder and march away from the school as fast as you could.
Unbeknownst to you, you are crossing paths with Taeyong in a day more than you had imagined. Just yesterday, you bump into him just when you were thinking about him. And his divine sight welcomes you, with his sun-kissed skin shimmering underneath the rays of the summer sun, his neck glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and those eyes that ignites with unexplainable aura and intensity.
You hate to admit but he has changed so drastically and you could use the term cool, to describe him and his current state. You see him jog around the oval with his titanium hair striking up giving more emphasis to his sharp features. It’s parted haphazardly and damp. His tank top is clinging to his torso soaked with perspiration. His biceps strains out, he’s not that bulky type but with occasional muscles here and there, his physique is much more lean. And with just those charismatic looks, it never fails to send you a pool of pleasure, there.
You feel a shiver when he turns around and runs a finger to his hair. His prominent veins bulged out as he tugged on his hair, fixing it into place. Your eyes trail down further until you see his abs on full display, coming to your view.
Fuck. Fuck everything and your raging hormones. You immediately return your gaze up to his face and you feel your face heating up when it comes to your realization that he’s been observing you as well. His gaze never leaves yours, then one moment, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face. Giving you the view that you've been ogling at. He knows what you like and he’s giving it to you without any protest.
The sun shines through the oval, casting a yellowish glow on his body. His soft flesh is glowing with the occasional tattoos adorning his ribcage. You immediately gulp in hopes to diminish the growing sensation blooming in your stomach. But it never left, especially when Taeyong’s smile is being shot out towards your direction.
He’s really pleased to see you, especially seeing you in that body fitting uniform that makes him go hard on a summer’s day.
He approaches you without wiping the smile off his face. You fidget while trying to compose yourself not wanting to embarrass yourself much further. The night when you met him the first is enough.
“Fancy seeing you here. Are you headed home?”
“I ought to but I think I want to take a walk to the park.”
The bag straps dares to slip out of your shoulders. You utter an incoherent, “fuck.”
Taeyong immediately changes his expression. He looks at you in concern as he catches on your discomfort. “Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Oh… it’s just that the professor advised us to bring all three books for a collaborative reading but he didn’t show up.”
“Hmm…”
“And then I was tasked to report to the home room adviser so practically I have to carry out these heavy books while climbing up to the fourth floor.”
You immediately shut your mouth and your rants when you saw how he grew silent. You bit your lip and apologized meekly, “Sorry, I was just so tired from the summer class and this bag—”
He doesn’t utter a word but he grabs the bag away from you even before you can protest. He groans, “Damn, these are heavy.”
“They are.”
He stretches out his hand to you. “Come, let’s go to the park.”
You protest. Your eyes widening at his declaration. “But… but, you still have your training?”
“Nah. I can make time.”
And he pulls you away. His hand holding you dearly, just like old times. The warmth of his hands filling up those spots of yearning you had from his two year disappearance.
The walk to the nearest park wasn’t as deadly silent like the first night you both met. With both of your shoulders bumping and hands intertwined. You were not holding back anymore, clearly stating all of your distaste towards your college professors passionately with Taeyong chuckling in response. The conversation carries on smoothly filling out the gap that both of you had withdrawn from the years of absent communication. It’s filling out the space as both of you are talking about the randomness in all things possible not letting the implicit dead air eat out the aura engulfing you two.
Taeyong is not much of a talker, but when he does, everything that rolls out of his tongue could really hold a significant place in the listener’s memory. This fact still piques you up at the sight of his doe eyes quietly invested whenever you talk. You are always the talker between the two of you.
You can notice it from your periphery. You can feel the heavy weight of his drowning gaze piercing right through you as he examines you with such curiosity. You halt at your impending speech about student organization, feeling a lot more hotter than usual. The silence ebbed its way like how a beacon flies away from a started up fire. You let out a sharp intake of breath as you muster all your courage to reciprocate his heavy gaze.
You let out an airy laugh, “Is there something on my face?”
The way his demeanor changes drastically before your very eyes. His deep eyes are luminous, that made you feel some sort of deep mystification. His eyes are clearly looking at something through you, or searching for something to mend a yearning that is situated deep in his chest. He missed looking at your face, and a single gaze couldn’t fill those years of him trying to familiarize your face with those dusts in his memory.
“You’ve changed so much,” he says. His eyes are not leaving yours. You could almost feel some tinge of connection with just the way he stares down at you with deep adoration. That shoots out a simmering feel underneath your skin and painting out your face with searing hotness.
You try to conceal yourself by clearing your throat. “How do you know?”
“I keep on looking at you.”
“I can see that,” you state in a matter of fact. Challenging him further, “why is that?”
His lips immediately tugs upright at the change of your tone. He pushes in, further stretching out your curiosity, “Do you really wanna know?”
“Why?”
He blinks slowly, his eyelashes slightly fluttering against his eyelids. He opens his lips, “I wanna feel those lips again.”
You gulp hard when you see his gaze drops down to your lip level. That is the same thing you were thinking of the first time you saw him, don’t you? You also gawk at his as well, playing along the colors of a pale pink rose and crimson chrysanthemums. You can feel your brain struggling out to think of a thing to get away in this scenario you are in, instead you are lost in thought while looking at his lips. You definitely want to feel those lips as well.
“Why don’t you do it then?”
You lift the edges of your lips into a playful smile testing out the very edge of Taeyong’s patience. You must’ve stunned him at your vulgarity since he is opening his mouth for a retort but nothing rolls out.
“A-are you sure?”
This is the connection you were talking about. The constant pounding of both of your hearts are beating in sync against your rib cages. Feeling the same sense of want for each other’s touch. The butterflies flying around your stomach in an erratic manner.
“Do it.”
You thought he’s gonna hold back, but the sudden feeling of his lips crashing on yours had you sending in a skyrocketing ecstasy.
You didn’t get a hold of how long it has been, but all you can think of how sensual everything is. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the feeling of Taeyong’s tongue slowly grazing then nibbling on the plump flesh of your lower lip. You unconsciously let out a quiet moan that gave him access to meet you along the process.
Taeyong relaxes for a bit and you feel his hands slowly crawling up your arm and find its spot and settle it softly on your jaw. He caresses you slowly with such delicacy, afraid to give you a scratch. You are really lost with his mouth connected with yours. You are too stunned to think of something but it felt magical and passionate.
He slightly tilts his head towards his left and pushes your face more into him to deepen the kiss. His tongue grazing through the underside of your mouth.
He breaks the kiss, but his hands never left your cheeks. His forehead is resting on yours, a smile is ghosting his lips but his eyes are closed. He whispers your name sweetly causing a feeling of sparks igniting inside your chest. You rest your hands on his shoulders, gripping on it for dear life and to calm your nerves.
You can see the slow flutters of his eyelashes and how it cast a hollow shadow on his cheekbones. His breath slightly fans your face and you find yourself ticklish. He finally opens his eyes and how it holds such light, alive like the galaxy. He gives you a smile, “I really missed this.”
Then he leaned again to press on several small kisses, peppering your face with his lips while making smooch sounds. You immediately let out a giggle. His touch stays put, hot and tantalizing you can almost feel yourself burning.
This is what Taeyong has been dreaming of. How he yearns for that tinge of strawberry that he only gets to taste whenever he’s kissing you. You taste so sweet. Overly saccharine it made him much more alive.
Days past to weeks. It’s a routine like you expected it, impending torment every morning which is summer classes. But someone has added some spice to your monotonous life; Lee Taeyong. There has been a change in the atmosphere engulfing both of you— something that touches a nostalgic feeling — a slight nudge to your heart.
He is currently leaning at the back door frame of your classroom. Watching you struggle to finish up an essay that is currently due in fifteen minutes. That is exactly the sight he would die to see.
“Start with the main points first before you elaborate the sub points,” he beams. Good thing, you are situated at the very back and so you are both out of ear shot. You press your brows all together, concentrating on the damn vague subject but the scent of Taeyong is too distracting.
He crouches down and snatches the pen away from you, scribbling a lopsided pyramid with all the words as your starter. You stare at him and he gives you a smile in return. The way his eyes turn into moon crescents that made your heart churn. Do you really deserve those smiles?
He whispers proudly, “There. That should keep you on track.”
You gasp, “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He steals a kiss from you and stalked away with his phone on his ear.
Later that day, your phone keeps buzzing against your ass. The first ever text you’ve received from Taeyong. He had a new number.
[pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong]
[4:16 PM] I hope you finished your paper!
[4:18 PM] its taeyong btw
[4:23 PM] uhm,,, perhaps you want to go for a ride,, like fuck I hate texting dhhdhd
[4:23 PM] but I wanna show u around our boxing gym if you would like of course…
[4:25 PM] text me back, yeah?
You immediately grin at the message.
[4:26 PM] alright, as long as you treat me dinner :D
[4:27 PM] alsoo… thank you, I said it already but I want to thank you agaaain :)
[pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong]
[4:27 PM] you got that! :)
[4:27 PM] see you!!! <3
You pretty much found yourself ogling at his last message.
[4:28 PM] anything for you, sweetheart. I love you.
Those messages from Taeyong got you in a state of deep conflict. You just thought of it as a simple get together and not a date. Right, that must be it, he just wanted to show you around the place where he boxes. That could be it.
On the other hand, Taeyong knows that it isn’t just something as a plain go-out impromptu. He really mustered his courage to ask you out for a date. And he hasn't thought of a proper place since he’s not permitted to wander around the outskirts of the city not until after his upcoming match. The boxing gym could be the second destination after dinner.
The shared relationship between the two of you has escalated more than just plain awkwardness. While you are munching out your yakisoba, Taeyong is eating out his salad, watching and lowkey happy that you are sharing a company with him even though the offer is quite a little bit absurd. You are now staring back at him whenever he does, occasionally throwing out flirtatious comebacks after the other. This made something spark out in Taeyong’s chest, is it a sign of your feelings coming back? Or something even bigger than the picture he has been painting? Commitment?
The walk to the boxing gym didn’t take up much of your time. Taeyong pushes the door and lets you enter in first. There are several people inside the gym and they all gave you a friendly greeting. There’s another man that approaches the two of you, probably a few years older than you and is handsome as well in his grey sweats and black shirt. His eyes mold into moon crescents as he greets you with all his pearly teeth showing, “You must be y/n? I’m Taeil, Taeyong’s other coach.”
The people in the gym scrambled out to the connecting unit to give you both privacy. It's just both of you, with the lights casting a warm glow between your bodies, the dumbbells untouched, the ring in the middle waiting for him. He leads you inside the ring as he hoists up the rope upwards for your entrance. The platform is quite slippery but Taeyong immediately guides you forward towards the middle with his hands gripping your hips tightly. You just watch him intently and you can see how he grew a lot more taller, practically hovering over your figure.
He demonstrates a simple punch here and there. Pointing out the parts of the ring but all of his words are muddled, swimming away as your attention is solely focused on his lips and the way his slender body sway with such grace and agility.
He removes the glove and throws it away. He approaches you, “Are you gonna do something with the way that you are looking at me?”
He can feel it. Tonight is something different. The way both of you are staring right at each other’s soul is a little different.
He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours then he holds it up to his lips to kiss your fingers gingerly. He’s taking his time to kiss one digit to another. Then, he leans slowly while grazing his lips onto the outer shell of your ear. Your body tingles at the warm breath fanning the right side of your face. “What does that stare mean huh? Y/n?”
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with those tantalizing eyes staring at you, full of determination, smoldering with passion and lust. His touch on your hips is burning, shuddering as he caresses it down slowly emitting the rise of your goosebumps. His lips are brushing against your nose peppering small kisses just like old times. He handles you with such care like you are some sort of a delicate masterpiece by Michelangelo.
You just want him. His lips. His entirety. You want Lee Taeyong.
He caresses your jaw soothingly before leaning down to press a soft peck on your lips. Then, again and again. Until you encircled your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You feel him smile against your lips after reciprocating your hungry and passionate kisses. After all these years of yearning, you’ve never felt so alive. He’s something akin to fire that never fails to have your insides burn with so much spark and passion.
He pulls you more, pushing your figure on his. It feels surreal with both your bodies molding into one. His soft touch turns into a passionate tug of war with your blouse. His hands run over those curvatures that are hidden by your top. Oh god, he knows how he missed doing these.
Taeyong knows that you’re the catastrophe that yields this side of him. He loves you so much. And he believes that you are both made for each other, like planets meant to be aligned together. Your scent that smells like home with a touch of roses and bloom. Your lips that are perfectly made just for him, your tongue that slowly and carefully grazes his lower lip. The kiss that both of you are sharing is too sensual, different, grounded into something just like the very first one you have both shared.
He nibbles on yours that triggers a soft moan from you. You immediately granted him entrance. The ghost of his touch is still lingering on your jaw, until he settles it down onto your hips. You are sure that he can the loud pounding of your chest, the way the big spark ricochets against your chest with every touch he leaves.
It’s messy but surreal. Binding with much adoration and deep sense of lust. With his tongue exploring every bit of you. Tangling and connected by feelings. It is so romantic that you don’t want it to end.
He breaks the kiss, leaning against your temple. Ragged breaths resonate around the quiet gym. You take your time to settle your pounding heart and breath. You look at him, all but imbued with pure adoration and affection. His swollen lips whisper your name in awe and he smiles at how he dreamt of it and now it's unfolding before him.
You just want to be like these. With you tucked under his protective embrace. Listening to his erratic heartbeat. But, you were still afraid.
He whispers, “God. What will I do without you?”
“But… I’m always here.”
“But I won’t.”
You inhale a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t understand.”
“I might move out abroad for training.”
Those are the things you are always afraid of. Taeyong entering your life, then to leave out as soon you cannot contain yourself anymore, drowning with every piece of him, lost without his presence beside you.
This was your nightmares, coming back at square one broken and shattered. And it’s threatening to come back especially now that you are finding yourself falling for him, again.
It’s raining hard. Gloomy and heavy just like the constant barrage of thoughts clouding in your brain that you have overlooked a text message from Taeyong and Doyoung’s sudden appearance at your room.
“I can see a blooming college student, and why is that?” He teases but it wasn’t enough to make your mood lift not for a little bit.
“I don’t see myself as blooming though, why’d you say that?”
“Don’t lie to me. I can see how lovely and alive you are when you’ve been hanging out with Taeyong.”
“It won’t be long. I should’ve known,” you wipe your face. “God, why am I such an idiot?”
His face immediately concerts to concern, he knows you’re in deep conflict and something wrong is up. “Tell me.”
You told him everything. The internal battle you’ve recently put yourself into Everything that has been bugging in your mind lately. “I’ve let him in my life once, then now, twice and right now I’m unsure of everything. I’m even afraid that I have to go through the past shits I was thrown into because he chooses his career more than… us. And I don’t want to feel that misery again.”
He hums, “Look.” You embrace yourself for an earful of lectures from him. “But, who cares about the past? It's already done but it isn't just you who suffered and undergone extreme shit.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dumb, y/n.”
“I said what I said, Doyoung. This isn’t love, it could be just the wild force like lust or whatever...”
“No, you’re still swimming around this deep pool of conflict and denial.”
“It's easier to speak about someone, Kim Doyoung. But you don’t know what I am feeling right now, stop invalidating me.”
“I’m not. But I’m speaking as a best friend and I know you love him more than you know, you do.”
You snap, “Stop concluding things!”
“Oh yeah? But if you are unsure of Taeyong, why do you keep on texting with him when you know that you shouldn’t? What about those kisses you both shared when he dropped you off here yesterday? You don’t know but you’ve been drowning with the presence of Taeyong that you’re oblivious to the fact that everyone knows you’re lying. You still love him.”
“I just want to hang out but that necessarily means I do love him.”
Doyoung clenches his jaw and approaches your figure. You’re being too difficult. Your eyes widens at his sudden outbursts but what made you stunned is that he suddenly pulled your face to his, then he planted a soft peck on your nose.
Doyoung knew this was coming, but he just wanted to help with the thing he knows will work. After all the shenanigans he pull, all of them didn’t work and ended the way he wanted in it be. By doing this, he will know if you are indeed in a midst of conflict or you really do love Taeyong. It’s a giveaway, if you do push him away, it just explains everything. If you do not, then he is wrong for pushing everything into your edge.
Doyoung is tall and thus, he can see the marching figure of Taeyong and how he stopped midway at the sight of both of you. From the perspective of Taeyong, it gives him a picture that both of you are kissing when in fact, Doyoung is just leaning down to match your height.
“What the hell?”
You immediately remove Doyoung’s hands from your face and spin quickly on your heels to meet him. “Taeyong, I can explain…”
Taeyong smiles bitterly, “No. save it.” He lets go of the material he’s been gripping through all this time.
The sight of Taeyong, he’s beautiful as ever. But looking at his face painting into a mixture of plain reticence and agony surely made you sick to the gut. You hate to see him hurting and when he spun his heel to leave, you chased him off. Afraid of losing him, again. At this moment you have been sure of it, you love him more than you do.
“Wait—“
He spins his heel but maintains a safe distance from you. “I didn’t know you and Doyoung had a thing, I should’ve known.”
“No! No, please, listen to me—“
His gaze is so dark with pain and anger. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. Imagine, I have been believing all these time, yet, fuck.”
“No, Taeyong…”
He snaps, “Do you really love me y/n? Or you’re just driven?”
That shuts you out. But you know that answer, it's just that fear is holding you from shouting out how much you love him.
He smirks bitterly, “See? Those could answer everything.”
Heaven knows how much you love Lee Taeyong. How you are afraid of seeing him leave and never return back.
The next days you are waking up to are the worst as you speak. The way every morning feels so heavy with a constant tirade of thoughts running over your mind like a shadow lurking by. Your mornings pass by bitterly without messages coming from Taeyong or his stupid voice overs that lulls you to sleep. Not even his sweet talks and songs. None of them all.
It feels like shit to wake up with a heavy chest glooming with unexplainable feelings of confusion and denial. You hated to admit but you are so angry with yourself for being such a pussy. The constant loop of emotions that you feel, above all fear of having everything repeat again, then anger at yourself for hurting Taeyong, then regret because you know you could have done something better. You are well aware that you are just forcing yourself into this pool of anxiety. Afraid of something uncertain, when you shouldn’t be and it was just enough to drive Taeyong away. You could have just told him you loved him, but you were letting yourself be pulled out by your own judgements. Love means sacrificing, but you were such a coward for doing so.
Denial that was the cause of the pain that killed his passionate eyes. You know too well that what you have shared with him isn’t just something as plain lust but it was driven by deep love and passion. Yet, you couldn’t even correct out the stupid lie that Taeyong had to forcibly believe. Because you were so afraid of admitting that you are falling back to him, and you’re afraid that he might not be able to catch you out like he did before all because of boxing.
But was it worth fearing for if it meant pushing him away? No. You loved him more than you do. Does it make you at ease to just bury down in your darkest pits and watch Taeyong disappear just because you were so afraid of taking up the risk? No.
In the course of summer’s day and hazy afternoons you have spent with him, shoulder to shoulder, swaying with deep grace and agility, you have seen how smooth your relationship with him changed. Unbeknownst to you, the relationship shared between you has blossomed into something passionate and raw; full of emotion. No puppy love but special and mature. You hate to engage with people but with Taeyong around, there is a line that connects the two of you like two star-crossed lovers destined and made for each other.
His smile never fails to cast positivity in your life, and hell you know, that you wanted to be a reason for those smiles as well. But how can you do it, when you were the reason why it won’t happen anymore?
You know you are just scared of letting him inside your life and then one moment, he’ll leave. His departure has deeply wounded and scarred you to the point that you don’t want it to happen anymore. This has always been a part of commitment, that obstacles are being thrown towards your way. But the more you think of it, the more selfish and worse you felt. He did support you all the time, especially when you mentioned to him two years ago that you wanted to go abroad for an internship or those times when he is determined to keep you on track despite his body failing because of the strenuous training he’s being shoved under. But when it was his time to go, instead of supporting him all the way, you eventually closed everything around you, even tried so hard to tell it without hurting you. That made you feel like shit.
You try to diminish everything and try to focus on your classes but you constantly find yourself thinking about those titanium hair and passionate eyes. His kisses and burning touches. You stare at the pile of schoolworks stacked neatly at your table, waiting for your whole undivided attention. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to focus, not with that growing lump of sadness clogging on your throat.
It’s impossible to wave everything off like nothing of this ever happened, that Taeyong was just another episode in your life. But he wasn’t just someone that is a passerby, he’s engraved to your memory, and he’s that memory you wish to remember till death.
It hurts to see his face into pain.
Lee Taeyong is the man that you’ve ever wished for. He loves without boundaries, without limits, without judgement. He’ll love you with all his might, disregarding all those flaws that you keep. He’s pretty with his soul so bright and pure. He’s like a rose in this dead garden that shines in his very own way. Bright red, full of determination, power and beauty. He’s so kind like the angel Gabriel. He was a dream come true for you, ethereal like a daydream, the love of your life that you pushed away because you were being such a coward.
A throb in your chest escapes when you see the crumpled paper discarded near the door. His neat handwriting comes to your view.
I just read the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks and saw this passage;
“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”
I love you with all my entirety, I know I have fucked up, but I am willing to do everything for you, just to be with you, forever.
He just loves you and you were doubting everything.
“Good thing I didn’t throw that paper away.”
You immediately spin around your heel and see Doyoung plopping himself comfortably on the sofa.
“I’m still mad at what you’ve done.”
“I know, but if it wasn't for that show, you’ll never be as sure as you are now.”
“You’re bullshit.”
“I’m just helping you,” he clears his throat. “Now, tell me more.”
“No, until you tell why you did that stupid thing.”
He sighs. “It’s an eye opener for people in denial like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you heard Taeyong, you immediately pushed me away and chased after him… Why? Because you don’t want to see him get hurt because of a stupid and childish act.”
You didn’t answer.
“Now tell me more.”
You sigh again and close your eyes. Doyoung watches you patiently. “Doyoung, tell me, am I dumb for feeling this way? Afraid that he’ll leave me again because of boxing and selfish because I am just looking out for myself?”
“First of all, you are not dumb, academically could be, but no, you’re not. You see, whenever we feel fear, that just means that we love that person so much we are afraid to lose them. And don’t invalidate everything just because you are looking out for yourself.”
He continues on, “I know that the separation of you two were messed up and rushed because Taeyong had to train more and you cannot decipher the fact that he has to leave. And now that he’s back, you just don’t want to feel the same old misery you had to endure these years. But trust me, he feels the same way as you do. In fact, much worse because he chose boxing over you. But it's part of life and love, sacrifices happen and it makes the bond between the two stronger.”
“What do I do?”
“You see, you keep on returning back to your past, that it might happen again and again. Forget those, it's in the past, what is important is the present and that is what you should focus on. Feelings are really hard to keep up with. We’re humans, vulnerable. But I know that he really loves you.”
“I do, too.”
“Then, you should talk it out to him. Don’t rush things and take lithe steps.”
He approaches your figure and pulls you into an embrace. You feel your eyes burning with tears when he whispers, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”
“What if he misunderstood?”
“He won’t. Trust me, he is my friend too.”
You feel a sense of comfort even if it's just a fraction of time. His words echoing around your mind, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”
You find yourself dropping by their boxing gym. Taeil approaches you figure, awkwardly leaning against the door, kinda conflicted if you should set foot in the gym or not.
“Hey,” he greets. His face is quite pale with the notable dark bags under his eyes, he looks really dishevelled.
You bow your head, “Hey Taeil, what’s up?”
“Tired.”
“Oh, it's that so?”
“But he’s pretty messed up among all of us.”
He knows.
You can hear the disgruntled grunts and strong punches from the farthest side of the room.
You let out a sigh, “Why is that?”
“You see, he’s been really expectant of this match but he was notified at the last minute that it was cancelled because his opponent was tested positive for using peds which is illegal,” he trails. “I think it made him upset given the fact that we have done extreme preparations and he was obliged to undergo a mandatory drug test when he hated doing it in the first place.”
You find yourself being stupefied, not knowing what to answer. “I’m sorry--”
You are interrupted midway when you hear constant shouts and punches.
“It was found out that the contract of sponsorship was a fraud and used as a bait for us to bite on. He was really enraged.” Taeil clears his throat, “Now he’s been grilled by the trainers because there’s a big dip in his usual powerful performance. There was never a problem especially in training but his performance just escalated down and I really don't know how to help him either, I think he's really unmotivated.”
You feel really guilty because you were also the reason for his sudden drop in performance.
You call out to Taeil and hand him the pink card, “Can you please pass this to him?”
Taeyong stumbles in the locker room after the hellish training, he grips on the metal bars tightly to support his body. He feels like his body is collapsing with his legs wobbling and his arms tired, without the power to hold anything in his command. The bright pink card that is clipped haphazardly on his jacket caught his attention, he stretched out his arm and he elicited a sharp gasp when he felt the sudden jolt of pain rising up to his shoulders. The contents of the card surprised him, your baby picture that’s his favorite and the neat calligraphy of a book passage that had his eyes damp with tears.
“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday-- Noah”
I have also read the Notebook and all I could say is I can’t stop thinking about you. Everything could be hard but I am more than willing to dive, to walk into a path full of thorns with you. I was really afraid to see you walk out of that door, and it came to my realization that I’d rather have you go away temporarily, to chase on your dream rather than losing you forever. Chase your dream and I’ll chase mine, and we’ll still find each other’s arms. I will support you always, rose. I love you so much.
You find yourself in the boxing gym again, awkward as fuck.
The rambunctious rambles of Taeyong’s teammates piques up his ears yet he doesn't pay attention to it because he knows it’s useless. He quietly wraps the white bandages around his wrist and his fingers. His muscles are still aching with the aftermath of the afternoon grilling yesterday but he needs to practice more despite everything fucking him up.
Taiel shouts out, “Taeyong!”
He snaps, “What?!”
But the sight of your figure at the door deeply surprised him. You look like you’ve been contemplating for a good minute whether you should enter the gym or just cling out at the door. Ah, he knows. You hated talks and people so much and it shows.
It’s been days since you have last seen him, he’s still beautiful as ever. But you can see the dark shadow that casts underneath his eyes. There were lines here and there that could be caused by stress and fatigue. His jaw is much sharper than before. His eyes were unreadable, deep and smoldering.
He hoists and climbs out of the ropes and out of the ring to approach you. You can see yourself eyeing his figure intently but you rest your gaze at his strong and unyielding stare down to those pretty lips.
He breathes, “Hey.”
It was just a faint call yet it feels like you’ve been floating around in cloud nine. You fidget against the wall and Taeyong notices. You wanted to tell him more, everything, yet you are confined in your very own space, with fear clogging out your throat.
You settle with calling his name, your lips quivering, “Taeyong.”
Taeil immediately shushes the other boys that have plains on eavesdropping on the drama unfolding. The marches out towards the connected unit with exasperated groans leaving their lips. Now it’s just you and him again. With everything untouched and quiet. The space around you is basking into that awkward pace just like the first encounter. Your heart ricochets off against your chest that indicates a quiet plea that snaps you out of what you should do. Here goes nothing, you should talk it out to him.
You try to divert your attention from the erratic beating of your heart to the boy who’s been looking at you with his dark eyes.
He begins, “How is your summer class?”It took you off guard, “It’s fine.”
You clear your throat and mumble the words, “I want to talk, please?”
He leans down with his brows furrowed together. “What? I didn’t get what you were trying to say…”
You sigh and yanked his tank top to plant a kiss on those rose colored lips of him. He misses your touch. He relaxes by the feeling of your touch. You were just enough to fill out the hole that has been empty throughout his heart.
You whisper, “I’m really sorry for being afraid… for holding back… I don’t have something intimate going on with Doyoung I swear, he just leaned in to slap me out of my reverie… With his acts I was able to make sure that you were the only one that I will ever love… I could never replace you with someone else because I love you so much… you are the only one that I will choose, forever.”
He closes his eyes and leans on your forehead. He was so afraid of losing you either. When he saw Doyoung that day, he really felt a sense of tugging in his heart. Fear that he couldn’t make up for all the things that he’d done. For leaving so soon. For leaving you. He misses you so much that he can’t find the energy to go on without you by his side.
He kisses you with all the power he could muster. With all earnestness. Peppering you with kisses, dusting every part of your face with all his might. He’s intoxicated with just your presence looming inside his systems. He leaves you breathless with every passionate kiss he leaves, leaving a trail of hotness that has been searing up into your body. You could almost feel that spark with just the ghost of his touch. This is what you want, with him by your side. How content you feel with him and those yearning suddenly disappears.
Taeyong cups your face, holding you with such care as if you’re the most delicate glass. Fragile. He stares at your eyes, searching into yours deeply until he could see how beautiful they really are, that holds the entire galaxy with them, sparkling and deep.
You grab his hands carefully, kissing his bruised hands that are like those flowers that your mother grows. Delphinium, that is casting a glow of pale blue and violet. It must’ve pained him to still train with his hands scarred.
He calls you out with the same old nickname for you that sends you to bits of fluttery. “Sweetheart... “ His voice is imbued with longing, his voice deep and soothing, contradicting yet lulling. “You don’t have to apologize. I will forgive you every time, because I love you so much.”
“I’m sorry for being like this, still trapped with the past…”
He shushes you with his finger. “Hey, let’s forget everything in the past and focus on what we have here in the present.”
You smile, “Present.”
Taeyong finds himself being lost for words yet he seizes this opportunity to hold you closer to his. He loves you dearly and admires your beauty. Your entirety. He loves you for being you. That is all about simplicity with your skin glowing, so it was your inner beauty that not only lit up your soft features but Taeyong’s eyes as well. When he sees you smile and laugh, he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in your company was to feel that he too was someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.
“Stop staring.”
He laughs, “Why not? I miss you.”
“Your coach might scold me for interfering with your training.”
He rolls his eyes, “The match was cancelled, anyways. Let him be mad, I don’t care.”
You grin, “You’re impossible.”
He leans in again for a kiss. It’s not just a peck but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that glows in your chest.
He kisses up and down your neck. You let out little whimpers of anticipation while he works his way back to your tender, smooth lips.
He breathes out your name, “y/n…” caressing your face gingerly, brushing away those strands of hair away from your eyes, “Did you know I was really happy to see that letter from you?”
“Why?”
“Because you called me rose that you only did when you felt like it.”
You laugh at his confession, “Why?”
“I just felt happy that you finally addressed me by that name.”
You give him a smile while caressing his cheeks soothingly. His expression is a mixture of endearment and loving, with his smile that is so blinding with beauty.
He continues, “I could still remember that very last time you called me that and I thought I will never get those endearments from you. Rose is the name out of all that I can help but to smile whenever I hear someone say it.”
“It’s actually weird to call you that.”
“But it’s fucking unique and I will aways remember you whenever I hear the word rose.”
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you… You’re someone so kind and pure that brings up the beauty even in the smallest things and God… what will I ever do without you in my life?”
“We are always meant to be together even though Doyoung’s plan on bringing our paths together fails.”
You cross your brows, “How did you know that?”
He grins cheekily, “He told me.” That snitch.
The conclusions are starting to form inside your head like whirlpools. You point out an accusatory finger towards him, your eyes wide, “So you know?”
He smirks and kisses you again. “Yes, but it just feels good to hear those words coming out of you.”
“You drama king!”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Out of seven billion, I will always choose you.”
Those words prompt another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks.
You hear a roar, “Lee Taeyong! Back to the ring!”
You could see his manager fuming but when he sees your figure being concealed by Taeyong’s body he immediately scurries back and grunts out incoherent profanities.
You snatch his top to lean for a peck then pushing him away, “Go, before you get grilled for--”
“For what? Being sexy?”
“You have an non-existent ass, Taeyong.”
He just smiles at your comeback. And he could just feel the air knocking out of his fucking chest. God, what is life if it wasn’t you with his side like this? He’s a lovefool, only for you.
He begins, “You know I hated books but…” his eyes are now soft and deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. A smile tugging on the ends of his lips, “You are, and always have been, my dream.”
You recognize those quotes from Nicholas Sparks.
You smile too, “You are and will ever be the love of my life, Taeyong.”
SMUT (SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE)
You can still remember the first time that you felt extreme happiness, that is when you have been given the plush toy you have been dreaming off by your dad. That was memorable, then the second one that gave you light was Taeyong. He brings the extreme feeling of euphoria just by the ghosts of his lips. From the very start, you wanted to drown yourself with the boy who’s laced with elegance and sweetness that is Lee Taeyong.
You didn’t know how Taeyong was able to spare himself out of his training sessions and his fuming coach. But what is important is that after he runs towards your direction, carelessly yanking out his bag, he reconnected his lips to yours, peppering your whole face down to marking your neck as his. You both don’t stop feeling each other until you are both forced out by Taeil.
Taeyong’s vein is filled with adrenaline and the wild drive of lust. He carelessly drives down his apartment, skipping three traffic lights, at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care about traffic rules, he wanted you the soon, the better. The both of you stumbles down the hallway, bodies waltzing while trying to fit in the door of his unit.
His fingers were grazing your scalp slightly tugging on your locks to provide him more access to deepen the kiss. His other hand is roaming around you, exploring every bit of your curvature that you always hide. He grips on your hips hard then slammed you on the nearest wall he could find. Taeyong pushes his pelvis onto you, deeper while torturing you by biting down on your lower lip. You let out a quiet moan that urges him to do more, grinding against your pants that sends a surge of swirling sparks in your belly and wetness that pools between your thighs.
You’re his drug that drives him into madness.
He couldn't contain himself any further as excitement pools inside his system, his eyes burning with desire with the sight of you caged between his arms. He gives you a look while he touches the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your approval. You nodded and it was enough for him to shake while trying to work out and remove you from the garment that covers your beauty. He inwardly let out a low groan upon the sight of your breast cupped perfectly by the lacy bra.
Your faces immediately flush at his intense gaze, but he immediately leans in to plant a quick peck on your lips, smiling throughout. “You are perfect. God.”
He traces with his lithe fingers starting from your hands upward to your shoulders. You can almost see how he occasionally steals a glance at you with his hooded eyes. His gaze is so heavy and hungry as if you’re a pool of crystal water and he’s a man with an exorbitant thirst, that he cannot longer wait to devour you with all his might. He proves his ardent hunger by cupping your cheeks and attacking your now swollen lips, then tilting your head slightly on the left to press his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, his teeths grazing and biting down, leaving you angry red marks. He wasn’t feeling enough, he titles your head more, providing him more access to the sweet spot that is on the arch of your collarbones, sucking and marking until you are desperately crying for more.
You let out an airy laugh, “Is this what you are planning along all this time?”
He answers you with a breathy answer, “Fuck, yes.” He towers over your figure while grinding more onto you, the friction making him bite down his moans and hard with every fraction of time passing by. “You’re the only one I plan on doing this with.”
He pulls away and finally assists you while undressing. To him, you are the most perfect, with your skin glistening with sensual sweat. Taeyong’s eyes were drawn down to the red marks that caressed its way down to your neck, reaching to just below your collarbones. Taeyong always told himself that goddesses were real and he was sure that you’re one of them. You’re a masterpiece that he will always hold with such delicateness.
He pushes your figure down onto his silk sheets. You can feel the cold contact against your flushed skin while Taeyong hovers onto your figure attacking every part of you that his lips could. He sucks onto your neck until those marks turn with a deep chase of purple and blue. You buck your hips against him, firmly to feel him, until you could squeeze out a reaction from him.
Taeyong groans slowly which pushes you more to roll your hips against him. The instinctive reaction of Taeyong was to bite down on your neck a little more harder which earns a sharp gasp from you. There is a rising flame bubbling inside of your abdomen. Two amorous lovers binded by love and lust. He gives out a quick yet quiet apology while returning into his business on marking every spot he sees no shade of lilac or blue. You try to grind onto him shamelessly, again, teasing to test out his patience, yet he already has his hands holding you down to place with his nails digging deep into your hips. You could almost feel his raging boner resting against the flesh of your inner thighs, throbbing.
Swatting away his grip, you immediately sit up to undress him up. Your hands run along his skin, clever, skilled, determined as you stripped off the tank top that clings onto his wrists. The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkens your eyes with a sense of decadent power as the man you really love is sitting before you, almost as naked as you.
In mindless, liberated pleasure, you shove out his gym shorts.
Taeyong’s eyes glimmered in the weak light of his room, as he forced the gym shorts out of him and flung it aside. “You’re driving me insane.”
“I could say that too.”
His mouth begins feasting onto your flesh again, his greedy hands racing over your quivering body in ruthless exploration that got you breathless. Heat pumps throughout your veins; feeling soft and warm, melting into Taeyong’s touch, like one's body.
You let out a gasp when you feel Taeyong’s palm cupping your breasts. His other sinful fingers move against your surging wet heat, relentlessly driving you up to insanity, the need to release is clawing viciously inside your body. Your pussy throbbing with his fingers encircling with your clit in a torturous manner.
Taeyong breathes, “Look at me,” when he sees your eyes fluttering shut. “It’s just you and me. Just us, like always.”
“Always.” The shadows dance around the both of you. Shifting while both of your fingers stroked. The sensation builds after the other, your body trembles, shuddering layers, then it halts when he suddenly withdraws himself letting you on the edge of frustration and want.
“Fuck, Taeyong!”
“God, I can eat you out, alive.”
You breathe, “I could… let you.”
With the expert flick of his hands, he had your pants tugged down along with your panties with a low grunt. Your eyes both lock in a brief second, all smoldering and swimming with intense lust. He clicks his tongue while playfully flicking off your bra.
His hands, as you could note, are kinda calloused, rubbing at your inner thighs and then spreads them widely while exploring a bit of your body. The power of his caress is influenced by boxing that is tantalizing and arousing, his fingertips pressing onto the delicate part of your skin, wandering underneath to give you behind a gentle yet strong cup.
He leans in again to leave out open mouthed kisses on your bare chest. The air around thickens, your breath snagged in your lungs. Your back arches as he takes your breast in his mouth, sucking, teeth scraping erotically over your aching nipple. Then, trailing down to your inner thighs to leave small kisses here and there, then he’ll suck. You writhe against the small exquisite pain, sobbing his name, the wet pulse between your legs is pounding with intense need.
Taeyong dips his head in between your legs, licking the hot, slick, and thick liquid that is dripping from your folds. You immediately let out a moan. He holds you in place, while he relishes on your juices while you suffer at his doings. The vibration whenever he let out a satisfied groan leaves out a tingling sensation to your clit. His tongue finally reaches out to encircle you wanting clit. Waves of ecstasy washes over you, crying out loud at the feeling of sharp sensation of pleasure flowing right at your veins. You try to reach out to anything your hands could get, grip on. You settle for his titanium hair.
“You’re so sweet.”
Whenever he speaks it grazes slightly on the nubs of your walls, which made you arch your back in pleasure. He continues on licking your juices, until he slides a digit in taking you completely by surprise. With his long, slender fingers inside you, the feeling is exceptional, delirious.
He slides his finger in, your folds welcoming him as it grazes and envelops every time he slides another finger. His thumb continues on playing with your clit which his fingers fucks you, knuckle deep without mercy. You immediately cry out in pleasure.
He pumps in a fast pace that has your legs trembling. Your sex is throbbing at his merciless pounding while reaching out to poke out your sweet spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking with your juices. You can feel yourself coming again, as he quicken his pace, you bite down on your lips to ride out the pleasure you are feeling. His thumb busy with your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you.
“I’m coming. F-fuck, Taeyong. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“You like that huh?”
“God, y-yes.”
You can feel the hot liquid dripping between your legs. God, your core is still throbbing at the aftermath of his finger fucking, and you still want more.
“Fuck me Taeyong. F-fuck me hard.”
He immediately scrambles to his feet upon your request. Removing his boxers, you could see his dick, with a searing red tip oozing with precum. You are really aroused at the sight of him wrapping his hands around his dick, giving it quick strokes.
“Open for me, sweetheart.”
You did as he mounted you, crushing his mouth into yours as he thrust his dick into you. A sob of pure and overwhelming pleasure eases up your throat. Your walls stretch with him inside. He eases himself, pushing his dick to the extent of your hot walls. Arching, you brought him deeper inside. Your hips move in desperate, greedy time, urging him on.
In that fleeting moment before you both plunged into the roaring darkness, you understood that there will be no room for another man in your mind, in your soul, in your heart. It will always be him, Lee Taeyong.
Taeyong reaches out to stroke a palm down your exquisite curves and hollows that drives him mad all night and day while he reaches his point. You take him well, with him cumming inside you. Both of your breathing are ragged. The weak light illuminating from Taeyong’s lampshade cast your silhouettes. When he leans to press a quick kiss on your lips, two grey shadows molded into one.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
hello, this eaten all the left energy in my body so i hope you guys love this one! :D
#neowritingsnet#cznnet#nct-writers#neohours#lee taeyong#lee taeyong imagines#nct127#nct#nct u#nct fluff#nct smut#nct angst#nct 127 fanfic#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 one shot#boxer!au#boxer!taeyong#nct taeyong imagine
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some spicy things I do in my practice because of ADHD
given that it's literally my brain, adhd takes over a lot of things in my life. it finds a way to wiggle into everything I do in both bad and good ways. it's just how it is being neurodivergent and it's just how life goes for me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't aid me in many ways. growing up we aren't taught about mental divergency. we're taught the abled and neurotypical way and that's it, but in truth neurodivergent people only struggle due to not having the resources to do things the way that'll let them work efficiently. so here is a list of ways my personal adhd effects my pagan practice and ways I incorporate it into my worship !
stimming
stimming ! i stim a LOT and sometimes, if the emotion I feel is strong enough, they turn to uncontrollable tics. this also means that when during things like rituals, I'll have to pause so I don't tic and ruin something. this is totally normal and okay ! I've never once had a problem with it, and the Gods just patiently waited for it to pass as it always does. we both know it's just something that happens and it's apart of me, it isn't something to be ashamed of or hide.
accepting stimming once I was diagnosed was also something I did as a devotional act to Dionysos ! instead of trying to mask or push down the urge to stim, I'd allow myself to just let it out. my stims vary between very overt to covert, and accepting the overt ones as normal was a feat worthy of devotion imo. you can also keep stim toys on your altar when you're not using them, if you wanted to.
time and schedules
consistent worship ????? never heard of her. same goes for offerings. sometimes I give 294894 offerings in a day and sometimes I've given one offering in a week, it just depends on my ever changing behavior. there's no need to be stuck on a schedule if you don't want to or even make one to begin with. when I first started out, I asked Hermès, Apollon, and Dionysos (who I worshipped at the time) if I should make a schedule and the no was so hard I haven't asked since. my worship is a part of my daily life, as just like I don't drive places every day I don't worship every day. both are still important in my life regardless if I'm actively doing it or not. if you stuggle with consistency, I urge you to speak with the Gods you worship and see if making things more fluid would help !
hyperfixation is also a pain in the ass sometimes, especially when it becomes something other than paganism. due to the free nature of my practice and that I've chosen to devote, it sometimes translates into "well I don't haveeee to do this" and suddenly poof, all the motivation is gone. it's VERY hard to come back when your brain is so wired on something else entirely, and I understand the feeling. during these times I personally do very small things to keep up. if I make dinner for myself, I'll offer a portion and eat with the Gods just to show that I'm participating even when I'm struggling to. the small things count.
RSD - Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria
my RSD is crippling in my life, and it's reach extends to paganism sometimes as well (if you're unaware, RSD is the extreme sensitivity to perceived rejection in any form). sometimes during readings I receive a card that I believe is saying something "negative". sometimes it's criticism, sometimes advice, sometimes it's a slap on the wrist, but no matter what it is in reality I'm at the mercy of my brain to interpret it. so this has lead to meltdowns, long depressive/anxious episodes, and crying fests when I think a deity is angry with me. it has gotten so bad before that delusions have appeared and made me believe false memories or feelings of hatred from the Gods.
it's so hard and I'm so sorry if anyone else has to deal with it. to help with this, I have to fight to remind myself that advice is not an attack. the Gods are trying to help me and, even if They were angry at me, I've made mistakes before and They've allowed me to grow from them. i also have a checklist of questions I ask myself to allow logic and reality back into my head. a few questions include "have i done anything recently that's worthy of anger from a God ?", "is this something that will last forever ?", and "is this a message that has something to teach me ?".
impulsiveness
ask most people with ADHD about being impulsive and you'll probably receive a nervous side glace. we're impulsive often, which can do a multitude of things in paganism. one, starting a devoting and never finishing it. i am SO guilty of this one, and it make me feel bad even now. i have plenty up unfinished plans, drawings, and other devotional items that look around and guilt me. I've been in this cycle for a year and I don't think I'll ever grow out of it, but from what I've noticed the Gods don't mind. doing some of a devotion is a wonderful feat, and the energy that took is a wonderful offering even if you don't finish it.
I'm sure other adhd people and probably some autistic people have been in the position of "I just discovered this new Deity and oh my god I NEED to worship them RIGHT NOW or I'll DIE". They're just SO COOL and you automatically feel a connection. then three weeks later you feel demotivated to worship Them and now you feel terrible about it. don't worry, me too. to help with this nowadays I personally honor for a bit then worship if the worship relationship doesn't involve any help between us. this is what I did with Pan, and it worked VERY well for me. i recognized our connection but I didn't feel the pressure to consistently worship Him.
back to the start of the second paragraph, if you're stuck in that situation just communicate with the Deity. it can be hard to admit you're wrong, especially with adhd. however, just sitting down and calling to Them to let them know how you feel and that you think you made a mistake is a huge communicative step !
demotivation
this. one. sucks. inbetween hyperfixations, being stressed out or anxious, going through a depressive episode, and more can cause very deep demotivation and loss of energy in people with ADHD and other disorders. sometimes I'll just lay in my floor with my headphones on for hours because I literally can't find the energy to get up. a lot of people worry that this directly conflicts with Paganism and would slow progress. i understand why it seems that way, especially since adhd is a very "GO FAST, DO THIS THING N O W" disorder. there's actually a few solutions here I can think of
devote your personal healing to the Gods as this can give your brain a "reward" and can help you personally feel better in many ways. after weeks without a shower, devote a bath to a Deity or maybe eat breakfast at Their altar if you haven't been eating much. allow Them to be your motivation
take a break entirely. paganism certrainly isn't a 24/7/365 commitment and your practice molds to your needs. if you're just absolutely knocked out and need rest, take a break. I've taken MANY breaks before. I've been forced on breaks too because the Gods noticed my mental health declining before I did. never feel ashamed for needing time for yourself
do multiple small things rather than big things. a little bit of your dinner when you eat, redecorate Their altar or space, listen to music that reminds you of Them, think of Them when you're out and about in case you see something. you can weave devotion into daily acts in order to reinforce mundane things you need to do and calm your mind about paganism.
and finally, miscellaneous list of other things I do that are too small for their own section.
if you need to keep track of divination readings, no need to write down every reading you've ever had in detail. you can voice record them as you go, take photos of the cards, or use apps like Labyrinthos that can act as a tarot log.
your altar doesn't need to look perfect, it should reflect your worship and your devotion to a Deity. this means if your altar looks like a mess, as mine ALWAYS do, it's perfectly okay ! clutter aesthetic altars are the most beautiful altars in my eyes, and they're so worthy of adoration. I've never once heard of a Deity disliking an altar, They appreciate our work to put in a space just for Them. let your altar look messy and wild as you want, altars don't need to be aesthetic or color coordinated
you see everywhere that many of us are devoted to one deity in particular or multiple, I fit in here too. i just wanted to say that you never have to devote to any Deity if you don't want to. you could worship when you need help from a specific Deity or worship a different deity every month. never feel like you have to tie yourself down just because other people feel comfortable doing so.
you don't have to celebrate every festival. it's okay to skip celebrations that don't really apply to you or are at an inconvenient time ! you could also reschedule if you find yourself wanting to celebrate but burnt out or busy.
#hellenism#pagan#Paganism#hellenic#hellenic worship#hellenic pagan#hellenistic polytheism#polytheist#polytheism#greek gods#deity#greek paganism#adhd#neurodivergent#neurodivergent pagan#tips and tricks
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The brothers being accidentally in love with the Muslim even though they can’t be with them... would they lowkey convince the MC or would they sulk lol
(Say if it goes for both ways, MC is a hopeless romantic lowkey lmao)
OOF. So much angst. This one is a real brain teaser, I had to read SOO many tragedy poetry and fics to get the feeling so excuse the sentimental writing LMAO. A bit of warning though, I feel as though the brothers are OOC in this which is seriously messing me up, but I didn’t want to leave you bare-handed!
I feel like this HC requires a bit of context in order for people to understand why I wrote the brothers’ reactions the way I did. So I’d like to iterate the fact that I, too, am a hopeless romantic and I definitely believe love can change even the most difficult man. I’ve always had this HC in the Obey Me! universe that every creature is fallible and that the brothers, once fallen, are now much more vulnerable to these new emotions than when they were angels since they’re no longer bound to the service of God y’know?
So with that in mind, onwards to the HC!!
p/s: I’ll post the little brothers’ reactions soon, hope you liked this :)
How the Brothers React to Accidentally Falling in Love with a Devout Muslim MC (Big Brothers)
Lucifer
At first, this man will pursue MC for not-so-wholesome gains (cough corruption kink cough). Lucifer is a very decisive man. He knows what he wants and unashamedly goes after it and he will stop at nothing until it’s rightfully his
But in his pursuit, I could see him actually, really, really falling in love with MC
It’s their pure, kind soul that attracted him initially as with all the other demons, but the more time he spends with them, the more he gets sucked in until all he wants and craves is MC
It’s almost heart-warming if not a bit concerning
However in his chase for MC’s affection, Lucifer would forget one crucial detail: MC is a Muslim, one whom is devout especially now having seen angels, demons and hell right in front of their eyes and when he accidentally witnessed them praying, he will just shut down and instantly remember that they are not meant to be
To put it simply, it’s illogical for them to even be together
When the realisation dawns on him, he immediately turns a full 180 and become a massive dick to MC, even borderline cruel that shocks the brothers
If MC confessed their love to him, Lucifer’s heart would soar in happiness, but his pure, unadulterated love for them would force him to push them away and tell them that he doesn’t reciprocate their feelings
But I could also see his Pride taking factor into this.
A prideful demon such as he, who willingly defied God and fell from Heaven, he would absolutely REFUSE to have his partner so dedicated to God.
It won’t sit well in him at all and it will absolutely leave a bad taste in his mouth
But this doesn’t change the fact that he’s still in love with them, a fact which he DESPISES and is DISGUSTED by
When they left the Devildom, Lucifer would do what Lucifer does best: repress his feelings. That, or take it out on Mammon lol
But seriously though, he would need an outlet for his anger, heartbreak and yearning and he would most definitely drown himself in work or by punishing his brothers.
He can pretend all he wants that he’s fine, but Lucifer’s cues are pretty easy to read especially since MC has managed to get the demon brothers’ to bond with and understand each other deeper beyond surface level (a miraculous feat, kudos to our MC), the others can definitely tell that there’s some serious repression going on
But Lucifer gets very snippy whenever the brothers try to help him with it, which irritates the HELL out of them and they would be too annoyed with him to even bother helping him now
Now that his pride has driven away both the very person whom he loves and his brothers, Lucifer will become even more withdrawn and far, far lonelier than he was before MC came into their lives
Sometimes, he curses the circumstances that led them to him, even if they were the best thing that ever happened to his family
Yeah, heartbroken!Lucifer is just ;((( (Alexa play bitches broken hearts by miss billie eilish)
Mammon
This man is a capital S simp.
Mammon gets attracted to anything shiny/pretty REALLY easily (after all, it’s one of the main reasons why his symbolic animal is a crow) so him being attracted to MC at first didn’t really come as a surprise
I think he knows the difference between finding someone attractive and actually being in love with them despite having never even fallen in love before
He’s lived for centuries and plus, his own sister loved a human, he’s certain he has never felt that for anyone before
Him realising that he’s in love with MC would definitely come as a shock to him though. This tsundere can deny it all he wants, but he can’t deny the fact that MC’s mere presence alone gives him serenity and cardiac arrest at the same time
His initial reaction when he comes to terms with it would definitely be to flee and avoid MC like they’re the plague. But this man pines and when he does, his sin will flare up and MC will find themselves with a very clingy Avatar of Greed by their side
To Mammon, being in love is the equivalent of stepping outside of your home for the first time in weeks and feeling the gentle warmth of the Sun caressing your skin
He is gentler, more compassionate, and more attune to MC’s feelings. He definitely places them above Goldie because they are his most prized possession, the keeper of his heart, the rarest jewel and like everything he treasures, he takes extremely good care of them. But he would NEVERRR let MC or his brothers EVER know about that (sike, everyone knows it, he’s so soft for them it’s so obvious. They find it endearing though)
Which is why when he remembers that they’re Muslim and that they worship God, the very deity he curses and rebel daily against, his heart would break
He isn’t stupid (well, not all the time), he’s lived in the Celestial Realm before. He has seen the humans who reside there once they pass their mortal life. They were infinitely exuberant compared to the ones who were condemned to a lifetime of punishment in the Devildom for their sins
And he could never doom them like that, it would hurt him to see his love miserable and depressed down in the Devildom even if he would want nothing more than for them to be together forever
So, he would bottle up his feelings and try his best to live in the present and enjoy what little time he has with them, even though he felt like that entire year passed by in a flash (which, in demon years, is most definitely like the blink of an eye)
If MC reciprocates his feelings, I can picture him being so, so joyful about that fact, but he knew that their romance is a tragedy right from the beginning. He is a fallen angel, he can’t change his nature and he has transgressed against God in the worst possible way; by swearing eternal enmity towards Him.
I can’t picture him getting over them, even after they’ve passed and are thriving in the Celestial Realm
omg I'm gonna sob Alexa play Smile by Juice WRLD
Leviathan
We all know that Levi thinks of MC as his Henry, his number one best friend
And he’s right. There were no instances of their hangouts being anything more than platonic
When he first started falling for MC, he’d deny it like Mammon did
Him? In love with his best friend? Preposterous.
Eventually he’ll come to realise it though because they were probably watching hilarious videos on the Internet (cough Buzzfeed Unsolved cough) and Levi was so distracted because he was just staring at MC laughing suuuper hard at the video in pure awe. Like his lil demon heart just went doki doki
Pure joy is so beautiful on people and seeing it on MC?? They were pulchritudinous
But even after coming to terms with it though, Levi becomes SUUUUPER shy and embarrassed about that fact that for the first few days, he avoided them because he couldn’t compose himself in their presence
Eventually our beautiful demon of envy will snap out of it by MC cornering him and tearfully telling him that they miss his company
So now they spend even more time together and Levi will slowly become more confident around MC
This means soft, shy touches turn into ‘accidental’ brushes against them then to full lingering touches until finally, he becomes confident enough to throw his arms around them in a hug
Unfortunately, depending on the gender identity of MC, this may not fly all that well
In Islam, contact between opposite sexes whom you have no familial relation to/are not married to is considered a sin (I can elaborate in another post if anyone is interested in it though) and MC will have to politely turn him down, but this doesn’t mean that they hate him. It’s far, far from that
They have to be gentle in their explanation to Leviathan. This man’s self esteem is so low that if MC were to ever recoil from his touch, it would send him into a shame spiral and self deprecating thoughts that is much, much worse than before
So MC will have to remind him that they are Muslim, that they are bound to the services and will of God.
This reminder will destroy him though and his sin will absolutely consume him
He would become so, so envious of God that someone as amazing and wonderful as his MC is so dedicated to Him, and in his envy, comes wrath.
Though his wrath is not as potent as Satan’s, it is enough for him to act irrationally and ruin his friendship with MC
He just couldn’t stand to be around them because all he wanted to do is to hold them, kiss them and love them and his envy for them will become too much that he will start to breakdown because of it
I do picture him being a yandere though with his being the Avatar of Envy. If MC returns his feelings, it might be best that they keep it to themselves and not make it known because this man WILL latch on to them and never let them go
He would absolutely turn them against God if it meant he gets to be with them for eternity even after they die
#obey me! shall we date?#obey me#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me mammon x mc#obey me levi x mc#muslim!mc#obey me x muslim!mc#swd lucifer#swd mammon#swd leviathan#wow levi's went from super wholesome to super dark real quick#angst
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The truth in communicating with the Gods
So, for a weird reason if you look in a Hellenic Polytheist blog, you will probably find this beautiful story about how their deity contacted them and they had a beautiful talk about life. Or something like that.
And even though it sounds amazing and let’s be honest, we want that too, it’s not that accurate. I’m talking in my personal opinion and experience as a Hellenic Polytheist that just started working with Lord Apollo, but im kinda sure Hellenism is not contact with your deity 24/7 and is kinda harsh to get it that in your mind.
My family is catholic and I grew up with this idea of their god always watching me, so when i started polytheism i was like “Oh damn all the Gods are watching me help” and like i was kinda wrong ;-;
Yes, the Gods probably sometimes are watching after you, but they have their own things and they can’t be with you 24/7. Like if they wanted, they could, they are divine and they can do any shit they want, but like... i don’t think that’s how it works.
In other hand, the internet makes some believe the communication with deities is like messaging someone that will instantly respond. MMMM no. Probably they will respond in 8 days, or sometimes they will not even respond
AND THAT’S OKAY.
If they don’t respond is because of something okay? They probably have a reason that will or will not make sense to us, we just need faith. And if they do respond, don’t look for the signs your favorite blogger had, every religious path is unique in it’s own way, your relationship is probably different than mine! I personally have only talked once to Apollo, and was just to tell Him that i wanna worship him and that’s it, and i don’t need to be contacting Him daily because... idk I’m okay with just patiently wait for the right moment.
They can communicate with you through dreams, memes, etc etc, and i consider its kinda unique with each Hellenic Polytheist.
Like, we are also in the internet. If i fail ill tell you that i failed because im like that “guys, my spell sucked” but in general, most of people will tell you their success! Like in social media we control EVERYTHING we post, and this stories are posted because they succeed.
But do we really read the ones that failed? No.
But like my child, deity communication is a skill and even though when you’re an expert, is not easy.
So please please please don’t compare your relationship with the Gods to your favorite hellenic blogger or whatever, and if your deity does not answer the same moment you look for them, don’t panic, is not because they hate you, they just have their reasons.
#hellenism#hellenic deities#polytheism#hellenic polytheism#paganism#religion#communication#divination#religious path#deities#devotee#worship#apollon#apollo devotee#written by me (roy)
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dear no one [q.kun]
⇾ pairing : qian kun x reader
⇾ summary : love is worth the wait,especially when it’s your favourite food store aunty’s grandson
⇾ wc : 2k
⇾ genre/warnings : implied soulmate! au,inspired by Tori Kelly’s Dear No One | mild swearing
+if i may add,i want to dedicate this to @nctream who has always been the writer whom i admired for the longest time.thank you for being the sweetest person i came across this hellsite,though i never actually communicate with you but you’re so incredible and i hope you know that.much love!
All your life,you’ve wanted nothing more than to meet the one,the soulmate who was allegedly entwined with your soul before your time on Earth even began ticking.Everyone has someone,it was just a matter of time before you meet them.But that was also exactly why you were impatient,counting down daily on the crossed-out boxes of your yearly calendar,most of your friends had met theirs by now.Some married,some even with kids---or just happily dating.All but you.
It sucked really.
Going to work in the wretched company every day was like a punch to the guts when everyone around you was all about love.Mrs Kim on the marketing department always showed off her vacation photos--it was always jolly and exciting,grinning faces of her twin boys seemed to mock you for your lack of relationship.And there was also Mr Lee,a young intern who was at least 4 years younger than you but had already found his one and only.
And how about Mr Park,the old bumbling guy nearing his retirement age?His sweet plump wife never forgets to pack him lunch,constantly reminding him to wear his tweed coat in case he catches a cold in the draughty security room.
What about you?No one to come home to,no one packing your lunch or was there a partner for holidays.Twenty-three pushing twenty-four with no felicity in love.Lady Luck never smiled at you much,you could say.Maybe it’s your resting bitch face,it could probably scare off the fortune bearing deity and leave her quivering in her robes.
The day was cold as it is,heavy rain started its relentless onslaught on the wooden roof of the rickety store off the main road.You were craving hot soup after work and thought it would be a good idea to drive off course to visit the dear old lady who ran the shop on her own.She was an amiable creature,forever ready to offer a radiant smile that let her old beauty trickle through.The granny would probably be one of the few people you were genuinely nice to,which explains your big chunk of discount every time you stopped by.
But it wasn’t a good idea of course.Nothing you ever did was a good idea.
Your engine couldn’t start up after running in the rain for your car.Other than damaging the leather seats of your vehicle,your heels sunk deep into the slushy mud and broke right when you yanked upwards to get it out.Groaning in frustration,your fingers latched onto the tresses of your wet hair,the half-cracking nail getting caught between them.You forgot to cut them last night,and now it had turned its head back to bite you in the arse.
The you that made your way back into the shop shocked the small-framed lady,your disheveled appearance a huge contrast to the sleek you that had left the store a few minutes ago.You probably gave her little heart the dose of pump she never needed.
“Dear,what happened?”She exclaimed,scurrying over to you with two thick towels. “You’ll have to dry off,or you’ll be sick!”
She sat you down on the chair behind the counter,while you attempted to shield your ratty image from the prying eyes of her customers.It didn’t really work though,they still locked glances on you,curious and hushed gossip brewing among the group of malevolent looking ladies who look upon you with their beady eyes.
“Come,”She urged,ushering you towards the baby blue curtains that led into the kitchen,maybe.There was a “STAFF ONLY” hanging above the entrance,and the sound of pans clanging gave it away.
“Qian Kun!”Her frail voice shrieked in Mandarin, “Qian Kun,where are you,you lazy boy,”Tugging you by the arm,she led you further into the cooking area.The smell of cooking was making your full stomach rumble again,and you once again longed for the hot herbal soup with noodles. “Are you on your phone again?”
“I’m not lazy!”Was the reply.A fairly built man emerged out of nowhere,eyebrows furrowed in confusion when his eyes rested on your straggly form. “Who’s this?The new cashier?”He queried,wiping his wet hands on the rag by the table.
You couldn't answer,your usually sharp tongue felt prickly and numb.You only stared back absent-mindedly,but he looked about as enamoured by you like you had been by him.
You knew the old lady told him something,and with the way she was yelling at him,you figured he was too zoned out to concentrate.Both of you tore your gazes away from each other when his grandmother reached up to his broad shoulders to give him a good shake.
“You never listen to me.” She grumbled,huffing indignantly. “All I told you to do is to lend them something to wear,and drop them back.”
The granny gave Kun a small shove, “Naughty boy,and you were so cute back then.”She muttered,retying her apron hastily and hurrying away to wait on the unattended counter.
“I’m still cute now.”He mumbled,looking sheepish in front of you. “I-uh-I apologise,that was embarrassing.”
“No worries.”You let out a small giggle,waving his comment off. “Your grandmother is cute.”
The corners of his mouth pulled up in an amused smile,while he gestured for you to follow him. “I hope you can fit into my granny’s clothes,they are a little old-fashioned but I think you can make it work.”
The door behind the pantry led up to a stairway of wooden steps,and then into a fairly warm lounge.There was a small couch,and a bed accompanied with a shelf of books and board games.You supposed that this could be their resting place of some sort when they closed temporarily for the day,lunch break, or whenever someone feels a little out of it.
“This place looks really comfortable.”You remarked,shifting your black button-up from sticking onto your skin.It clung on like leeches,making this whole ordeal more unpleasant than it already is.The nail was giving you excruciating pain,the shard of the broken end digging vehemently into your fingertips.
“It is,my granny made sure it’s the best condition so all the employees would feel comfy here.” Kun rummaged in the closet to the left of the bed,fishing out a pair of loose black pants and a plain white tee. “Here,she didn’t leave any shirts here,but I hope you’re okay with mine.”
You nodded thankfully,reaching out to take them from him.The shirt smelled nice,your nose picking up on the lavender-scented detergent wafting from the material.
“Then I’ll drive you home?” The warm tone of his voice felt homely, sending hot waves across your body,making you feel like a lightheaded teenager talking to their crush for the first time,tongue heavy with nerves.But yet at the same time,the attraction that bloomed in your chest felt more matured and controlled than the seventeen-year-old you,age muffling the lovesick squeals that you would’ve let out when you’re alone in your room.
You had felt something when you first landed eyes on him,a familiar feeling stemming that made it impossible to wound your mind around.Maybe it was your affection deprived self that was being delusional,and it would pass like one of your many fleeting crushes.
But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander,thinking about what if he was the one you’ve been waiting for?
+
If there was a chance to hit the pause button,you would, in half a heartbeat.The quiet fragments of conversation shared brought you a sense of ease that you’ve never felt in a long time,with white noises and soft tunes of guitar strumming playing from the car radio was almost ethereal.The drizzle of the rain incorporated flavour to the moment like the topping to your favourite dessert,it was the perfect addition that completed the time shared.
“I’ll drop by tomorrow to return the clothes.”You said,unbuckling the seatbelt as he stopped in the lobby of your apartment complex.
“Alright,I guess I’ll see you tomorrow again?”Kun smiled,the kind that made your organs go mushy and all gooey,like someone stuck a ladle in you and began to stir aggressively.
“For sure!Thank you for the lift.” You limped out of the car slowly,careful to not cause more impairment to your shoes.You didn’t fancy going up the elevator looking like someone ran you over with a truck,but there wasn’t much of an option.
All you could think of that night were Qian Kun and his calloused fingers,deep timbre voice and gentle smiles.Maybe you were going crazy,but again,there wasn’t much of an option either.
+
“You seem very happy today.” Mrs Kim from the marketing team mentioned,the cheerful grin almost blinding you.You couldn’t help but spot the striking resemblance of the smile to her sons.Now,it suddenly appeared more kind and less scornful than you thought,and you felt a little bad for always being grouchy towards her.You realised it was nothing but your loneliness coming into play,and you would even admit that you were envious of her happy family life. “Had a great day yesterday?”
“Not really,no,”You told her. “But I guess it wasn’t all that bad.”
So the tales of yesterday’s misfortunes came pouring out of you,from the dreaded engine to the antagonising broken nail,Mrs Kim was more than shocked to see the unconscious tug of your lips upwards.
“And you’re still smiling after all that?”She laughed. “I’m gonna say that you met someone.”
Your eyes widened a bit,trying to cough it off. “I didn’t!It was just the store owner’s grandson.”
“So there is someone?”Mrs Kim waggled her eyebrows at you. “You cannot hide from me,child.That’s the face of an infatuated person.”
+
The bell jingled when you pushed open the glass door.Stepping in,you opened your mouth to greet the granny like usual,but was met with an unknown face gaping at you.It was a boy,around a few years younger,round marble eyes curious yet welcoming.His booming tone greeted you,far too much enthusiasm for your liking.
“Hello,welcome!What would you like today,miss?We have chicken noodle soup for today’s special and--,”
“Lucas,please stop talking so loudly.”Kun’s voice reverberated from behind the thin curtains. “You’re gonna scare all the customers on your first day.”
“I’m here to see Kun.”You spoke to the giant of a human,glancing swiftly at the kitchen entrance,slightly intimidated by his tall stature.He gave you a quick once-over,looking a bit confused.
“Are you his girlfriend?”He questioned,shooting you a broad smirk. “Kun ge is so lucky,I’m--”
“Lucas,what’s taking so long?”Kun appeared again like the first time you met him,drying his damp hands on a small rag. “Oh!”
“Oh,indeed.”Lucas said,mischief written all over his face. “Is this your girlfriend,gege?Should I let granny know about this?”
Kun scowled at him,murmuring something along the lines of ‘if you don’t shut up,I’ll make sure you don’t have a job by the end of today.’
“Hey.”
You passed him the neatly packed parcel, “I’ve washed everything.Thank you again for being so kind to me.”
“I say this calls for a celebration.” Lucas interrupted,peeking from behind the cash register. “Kun,remember that sushi place you wanted to try out?The one near the local university.”
Kun hummed, “What celebration?”
“That someone is finally into you for the first time in twenty-four years?You should appreciate this effort made by this very beautiful individual.”
“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?”Kun hissed,the frown intensifying.
“Well,if you need someone to go with,I know a person who would very much like to.”You interjected,growing more bashful by the second.
“Great!Now you two settle between yourselves.I’ve got work to do!”Lucas said brightly,darting away.
Kun smiled,tucking his phone away in his pocket,glittering irises not leaving yours.
“I’ll call you.” He promised,and somewhere in you just knew he would.
And as you made your way out of the store,the keen sense in your being told you that something very special was about to begin.
Good things truly do come to those who wait,after all.
#qian kun#kun x reader#kun wayv#kun nct#qian kun wayv#qian kun nct#qian kun x reader#kun imagines#kun scenarios#kun fluff#kun angst#nct imagines#wayv imagines#nct x reader#wayv x reader#wayv scenarios#wayv fluff#nct scenarios#nct fluff#nct oneshot#kun oneshots#nct fanfic
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i’m what’s left when children go to war - one
Pain and panic alike clog Jaskier's throat, welling until he can scarcely breathe for the fear overwhelming his every sense. He has never felt this dread, this terror before - he stumbles, foot catching on a loose brick in the pavement, and nearly collapses, crying out when he catches himself just in time to keep running, running, running...
The streets of Athens are black as pitch, torches and great vases of fire doing little to illuminate the spaces through which he flees - black as pitch and silent, too, their quiet broken only by his screams and sobs and pleas for help. They all go unanswered... have been unanswered from the start, for who would spare a second's thought of mercy for a simple slave? He's nothing more than filth to the people safe in their houses, safe away from the monster chasing short at his heels. Of course he'd ran toward the wealthier part of the city, of course he'd ran straight into the realm of the very people who despise his kind above all else -
He trips again, and this time he doesn't quite manage to catch himself in time. Jaskier collapses to the cobbled pavement with another cry, the impact on his knees and palms sending spikes of discomfort up through his frame, and before he can drag himself upright once more, the monster is atop him, grabbing him by the shoulder, the waist, the hips, pushing and pulling and turning, and Jaskier yells out another plea for help as those vicious hands flip him to his back again, as those violating hands grab for his arms, and Jaskier curses aloud and kicks out blindly, and he takes only fleeting relief in the grunt of pain he gets when his foot connects - only fleeting, for it is dashed away in a heartbeat -
for the monster is pinning him by the throat to the road, is leering down at him with a face twisted with cruel victory, and Jaskier grabs for the monster's wrist and tries to pry his hand away, but it is too strong, has always been too strong, and as Jaskier screams out again, the monster reaches into the folds of its chiton, draws a dagger that glints bright in the distant firelight, and -
Pain worse than that of before explodes from the epicenter of Jaskier's torso, and his scream echoes high and cracked and afraid as his hands fly to grab for the base of the dagger plunged deep into his flesh. The monster above him merely smiles, holding him firm for another eternity until the world is fading into gray, his lungs heaving for air that he can't quite draw, his grip going weak... and then, just as Jaskier is certain he will die here, pinned beneath his rapist, the monster lets go, ripping the dagger free with a savage twist that tears another scream from Jaskier's aching throat.
As the cry dies off, the monster turns to leave.
He has the strength to do little more than lay there limp at first, sucking in air even though the very act of breathing sends unthinkable pain through his bleeding torso. Staring up at the star-flecked sky, he feels his blood flowing hot and wet and free through his fingers, pressed as tightly as he can manage to the uneven hole. He wants nothing more than to die... and yet - and yet he knows that he cannot.
Jaskier is certain he has never before been so broken, so afraid, as when he forces his body back into motion, turning onto his knees and steadying himself with a single hand on the cobblestone. He coughs, hardly even taken aback by his own blood when it splatters from his lips onto the pavement beneath him. Though his head is spinning, he pushes himself up, first to both knees, then one, then upright; here he staggers, the world swaying around him, or is he swaying in the world? It's difficult to tell - difficult to tell much of anything when colors are going pale and lines are going blurry... but he cannot die. He lurches into motion, both hands clasped together against the wound in an attempt to stop the flow.
Even now, he knows his efforts are in vain.
He grits his teeth until they ache as he stumbles forward along the path, every stride uneven, every stride unbelievably agonizing. It feels as though his innards have been torn and ground to bits, as though they're leaking out between his shaking fingers along with his life force, and it feels as though his hips and thighs will splinter apart with the weight of each step, as though they'll simply crumble to dust under the abuse... but he cannot die. Jaskier calls out again, high and broken, begging for somebody, anybody to take mercy, and he feels a hint of vengeance twist its way into his heart when only the quiet of the Athens aristocracy answers him. He should not - cannot - be surprised. Of course they would turn a blind eye to anything that does not involve themselves.
For all that he was frantic and running blind before, Jaskier knows where he runs toward now - has known it since the moment he pushed himself to shaking feet. If he can only make it there, if he can only last long enough to claim sanctuary and beg for help, maybe he stands a fighting chance. Maybe his life can be spared... maybe it is not quite too late.
Jaskier feels as though he's already dead by the time he turns the corner onto another wide avenue, by the time he lifts his head and looks forward to the massive structure at its end. Torches are lit on the outer walls, and warm light falls onto the steps from the interior. For the first time, a glimmer of hope lights itself in Jaskier's chest; he stumbles once again in his efforts to move faster, nearly doubling over with another coughing fit that sprays his blood onto the pavement. Someone will be displeased with that, he thinks, brief and wild, able to imagine the disgruntled face of a wealthy man when he must walk around a splash of servant's blood come dawn. I'll have to clean it up...
He pushes these thoughts aside when he comes up to the steps, drawing in what little air his burning lungs can hold to cry out once more - a plea for sanctuary, for help, for someone to hear him -
and as he takes the first step, he sees a shadow cast on the walls inside move, take interest, and he dares to hope, and he begs aloud again -
and as he takes the second step, he hears a startled voice, and the embers of maybe flash brighter -
and as he takes the third step -
as he takes the third step, he doubles forward again, another fit of coughing spraying his blood onto the marble, and as he tries to recover, as he tries to lift his head and press on forward, he overbalances, and he slips, and he falls.
Pain shoots through his skull, and brightness flares across his vision in the instant before his world goes black.
A vulture perched upon the temple's roof watches, head cocked in its usual sardonic way, as the slave's skull cracks and bleeds on the edge of the next step - as Jaskier goes still, scarcely breathing, upon the threshold of the temple of Ares.
- - -
The realm of Ares is much the same as that of all the rest, albeit grimmer for its context. A sprawling Athenian estate dominates its bulk, but where the homes of Aphrodite or even Apollo are bright in palette, Ares' is dimmer, every color seeming duller, and where theirs are built of marble, Ares' is built of whitewashed stone. Where gold adorns the corners and detailing of the other gods' dwellings, simple silver plates Ares'. The gardens and wandering stream throughout the courtyard are less vibrant than those that can be found elsewhere, almost as if the somber nature of Ares' dominion has reached the plants themselves, stunting their growth with shared sorrow and mourning. Even the land upon which the aristocratic home rests is duller than the rest, trees less impressive, grass less green.
No matter. It is, for better or for worse, a house - Ares hesitates to call it a home.
He hesitates, in fact, to even call himself Ares, for the deity that first held the name has been among Elysium for many centuries now. Not that the mortals know any better, of course... he didn't, either, not when he was alive. How many decades has it been? Four, five, since he was blessed to take over the godly throne? Enough that he no longer remembers the name of the woman from whom he took the mantle. Blessed. He scoffs at the thought. No... no one who knew the truth would ever call godhood a blessing.
He is so accustomed to the sound of the veil being rent apart that he gives it little thought when the dull hiss and rush of air signifies the arrival of the keres. It is an almost daily occurrence, for the androktasiai do not rest, their cruel wiles unending; but, he thinks, as he sets his book aside and makes to stand from his chair, he does not recall sensing a current war...
"My liege," comes a familiar voice, and he turns, forcing only the barest smile for the spirit he considers a friend before he's fully facing the keres. "We bring an unusual soul before you today."
It is on the tip of his tongue to say something nonchalant and bitter - I have seen every possible manner of death thus far, Renfri, I doubt you can surprise me - but as his eyes drop to the body cradled in the ker's arms, he stalls, freezing in place.
He has seen much, yes - has seen heads crushed under horse's hooves, has seen throats torn and gaping, has seen torsos riddled with arrows and pierced through with spears and swords - and he has grown... not accustomed to, but acquainted with the hideous cruelty of war. Many soldiers are young, many cut down before they're truly given the chance to live; he is no stranger to the sight of ruined armor and frightened eyes overflowing with tears. He is, after all, the god of war. Soldiers' deaths are everyday to him.
This... this boy held close to Renfri's chest... he wears no armor. He scarcely wears even his tunic, the swath of fabric torn in such a way that looks as if a wild thing set its claws to the cloth; what remains is soaked through with blood. His head is resting limp on Renfri's shoulder, dark hair tousled and matted with blood that runs steadily from a fissure in his skin and skull.
He is not a soldier.
"What is this?" the god of war asks sharply, stepping forward. At Renfri's back and flanks, the other keres edge backward, respectful of the anger they no doubt sense building in his chest. "This isn't a soldier, you've brought me a boy, for how old he looks - I haven't laid a claim on anyone, why are you wasting his dying seconds here?"
Renfri cuts him off before he can launch into another tirade, sounding impossibly patient, a little condescending; just as always, he subsides. "He fell upon your temple stairs."
With that, he goes still, golden eyes going wide as they rest on the youth's face, pallid with the grave. Dread overpowers anger, and in an instant, he feels nothing more than fear. He had hoped - had prayed, as idiotic as that was - that he would never be faced with this instance. Who would seek out Ares for sanctuary? Who would trust the god of war with their lives? "No," he says aloud. "No. I won't - I won't claim him."
"You have no choice," Renfri reminds him. "If it's revealed that he sought sanctuary before the judges, he will be sent back to you regardless."
He grits his jaw, sparing the briefest of glares for the russet-haired woman as his fingers knot into fists at his sides. It is easy, now, to turn away dying soldiers, to promise them rest in Elysium - even when he can sense the evil rolling off their skin, even when he knows it to be a lie. Standing here, a gods-damned youth presented before him, soul ripe for the taking, he struggles to find within himself the strength to resist. He knows he will never pass on the mantle of war, knows he will never subject another soul to the horrors to which he's adjusted... knows there will be no point in accepting the young thing.
No point, and yet... and yet he can at least offer a place of comfort, the solace of company, for the boy's eternal rest.
"Give him to me," he grits out at last, his tone as neutral as he can make it. "Let me hold him."
Renfri complies immediately, as she always does, stepping forward to meet him with outstretched arms. He takes the boy from her protective cradle with practiced care, sinking to his knees that he might hold the boy closer still. He is not surprised when the young thing stirs, a whimper of protest rising in his throat; he is, however, surprised when that bleeding head tips sideways to rest against his chest. He is afraid.
"Can you hear me, young one?" the god of war whispers, grimacing at the feel of blood-drenched fabric on his hands. He readjusts his grip to be as delicate as possible, knowing that the boy's pain will soon cease forever - he can sense no aura of hatred, although... although there is something else, something unique, new. "You are safe now."
As weak as the little thing is, trembling and limp in his embrace, it startles him when heavy eyelashes begin to flutter open, and startles him even further when the shade of blue revealed beneath seems brighter, purer, than even the clearest of skies, for all that they are hazy with death's fog. "Can you speak? I would like your name, if you feel it fit to tell."
He expects no response, but one comes regardless, after a pause that hangs heavy in the air with confusion and pain. "Jaskier," murmurs the boy, and his voice is so subdued, so broken... so afraid, and yet so different to the fear of all the soldiers the god rejects day by day, so different to the terror of death... so beautiful. "My... my name is Jaskier."
The boy's voice cracks there, and the god steadies him as best he can, freeing a hand to brush those matted locks of deep brown aside. Something in his chest goes tight when the boy - Jaskier - tips his head into the touch and lets his eyes drift shut again, so clearly dazed, desperate for kindness. Jaw firm, he lifts his head, meeting Renfri's gaze. "Who killed him?" The question is simple, direct. This was a murder... and part of his steel heart rages at the thought of anyone or anything slaughtering a creature this beautiful, this fragile.
Here, Renfri's own face shutters, and she reaches up to remove the hound's head helmet she wears, balancing it in her arms. There is something new in her eyes, something tense and vicious... a memory. "One of my women saw him fleeing after he was stabbed," she says, her eyes dropping to Jaskier. "She said that the man turned and ran before she could properly see, but he had been chasing the boy for quite some time, she guesses."
"He was nearly inside your temple, my liege," another ker speaks up from Renfri's side; the god's gaze flicks sideways to her. "He was coughing his blood onto the stairs when he slipped and fell... lost his balance, no doubt. His skull... I do believe he is to die immediately."
The war god's face is impassive, though his spirit aches. So close to sanctuary... so close to salvation... and yet, cursed now... your pain will cease, but your suffering will not...
Another weak sound from the boy in his arms draws him back to the present, and he brushes his fingers through those locks again, holding bright blue eyes as they open again. "What happened to you?" he asks him, running his fingertips along the edges of the split in Jaskier's skin. The boy flinches, then stills, no doubt too overwhelmed to feel any specific source of agony. "What do you remember?"
Jaskier is quiet, those eyes fading with every labored breath he draws. Conflict is plain in his gaze, in the way he looks away, up to the ceiling overhead. Another broken noise catches halfway up his throat when he shifts in the god's embrace, pressing his hand more firmly to the wound in his torso. "He chased me," he murmurs at last, "once he was done... threatened to kill me if - if I told a soul... I ran, I didn't - I thought I could make it somewhere safe i - in time..."
Confusion must flicker in the god's eyes, for Jaskier's face pinks with shame even through the pallor of death. The boy says nothing more, and the god lifts his eyes once more. "He was assaulted otherwise, my liege," Renfri explains before he can open his mouth to ask, and the edge in her tone - sorrow, empathy, memory - sends yet another arrow through his heart. "... Taken, and not for the first time, either."
Her meaning dawns at the same time Jaskier all but recoils from the words, drawing closer into the god's chest with a wounded noise. At once, the unfamiliar aura he felt makes sense - it is the brush of evil against purity, the effects of cruelty upon the innocence of youth. Something vicious snarls to life deep within his chest, something feral and full of hate for the mortals whose lives he is meant to end. Never before has he more sincerely wished to send war across the lands, that he might get some gods-damned rest. Not for the first time... what have they done to you, little thing?
"You're alright now," he murmurs aloud, his hand coming to cup Jaskier's face; when the boy noses into the hollow of his wrist, steady trembling abating some, his heart aches properly. It's a strange feeling. "You're alright, beautiful one, you're safe here... you will be safe here."
He senses, more than sees, the keres stir, interest piqued. He spares them not a glance.
"Where?" Jaskier is asking, his voice weaker than before. It is easy to tell he will not last much longer. "Where... am I...?"
The god softens then, and he brushes a thumb across the boy's cheekbone, across that smooth, perfect skin. Those brilliant blue eyes flutter, resting at half-mast as Jaskier relaxes into the repetitive motion. "You're in the realm of a god," he murmurs. "You are dying, young one. You've got but a heartbeat left, I believe..."
Fear flickers through those eyes, and he is quick to speak on, keeping his touch just as delicate as before, unfamiliar though it is. "You've nothing to fear. The judges will find you pure, and they will send you back here to live with me - back here for me to protect you."
"You - who are you?" Jaskier asks, and though the fear has faded back into confusion, he sounds... tranquil. It is easy enough to imagine that even the thought of death is better than that of returning to his prior life.
It is that tranquility that convinces the god to shift his touch lower, to press the pad of his thumb into the hollow of the boy's sternum, exposed through the tears in his tunic. Jaskier winces, but protests not, relaxing again nearly immediately; he is too weak to fight. The god of war watches as a simple black design twines itself onto bare skin, bold at first, then fading to nothing: a hound's skull, Ares' claim. "You know me as Ares," he says aloud, "but my name is Geralt."
"Geralt," he murmurs, soft and low. The name sounds enchanting upon his lips, strained though his voice may be. "I'll come back to you...?"
Geralt nods, returning his grip to Jaskier's jaw; he cannot help but smile, faint and barely-there, when the little thing tilts his head back into the touch immediately. So starved for kindness... so starved for help. "You will come back to me," he replies quietly. "You've nothing to fear."
Standing above them, the keres are growing restless; Geralt can sense their anticipation rising. He glances up to Renfri, poised and waiting; when he looks back down, those blue eyes have nearly faded entirely. "You can let go," he tells the boy, as gently as he knows how. "I will be here waiting."
Jaskier says nothing more, too weak to muster words, but something almost like... like peace glints in his eyes. Just as Geralt grows used to the sight, those eyes gloss over entirely, that slender frame going still. The god heaves a sigh, and looks up to Renfri. She is reaching out already, hand open for the wisps of golden smoke that are rising from the boy's parted lips. Geralt watches in silence as the wisps twine themselves about her forearm, the image of dandelions printing brightly upon her skin before disappearing from view.
"You've chosen well," Renfri murmurs, backing off a stride as Geralt lowers Jaskier's corpse and stands. In mere minutes, it will fade, too. "It does you no good, dwelling here alone."
"I don't need your words of pity," he tells her quietly, already turning away. "Go, now. I trust we'll meet again soon."
He does not have to look to know that Renfri rolls her eyes, nor to know that the keres' bodies shift, women morphing into carrion hounds and vultures alike. The veil is torn once more, and the keres slip through; only a moment later, the room goes still.
Geralt is alone.
#when children go to war#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#the witcher#greek god au#greek mythology au#my fics
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