#but I really do feel like at this point the usage of the names amongst outsiders should at least be clear...

[avemstella]

Why do the Harbingers have 2 different titles?

Ok, so this is based on a conversation I was having in a Discord, but I honestly have thoughts and felt like some people might be interested so fuck it.

So I mentioned offhandedly in my fic that I find the Harbinger canon code names kind of boring, but I didn't really go into why. So here's my rambling, I guess, critique (though don't take this too seriously) of why they are really weird to me and feel kind of pointless.

so there's a joke, that I often take part in, how several characters in genshin have too many names, but in a lot of cases the names serve different functions. For example the archons having 3 names serve a purpose: their demon 'true' name (or possibly the name gifted to them by celestia...), their title that's used as a sign of respect (ex rex lapis by the people of liyue), and their 'human' name. Each one is used in different places and reflects the relationship between the archon and the other character.

For example all the archons call each other by their demon names, while a character like Keqing calls Morax "Rex Lapis" but calls Barbatos a god not her own a distant "anemo archon." On Venti, the fact that Venti lacks a title like the other archons and everyone just calls him Barbatos tells us something about his relationship with his people etc. And even beyond the archons, characters with important last names get highlighted as their relationship with their clan (ex kazuha, a bunch of the inazuma characters tbh, or even Mond's like Jean) are very important to them.

But with the Harbingers' code names versus Commedia names, they don't tell us anything new. In most cases they are just translations of their Commedia ones (the most egregious in english being Capitano the Captain, but also Signora the fair lady etc). Or if they aren't exact translations the code names have something to do with the trope. For example Sandrone the word doesn't translate into Marionette, but the trope is literally a puppet. Similarly Pantalone with Regrater, his name means pants but the trope is a money hungry merchant so that lines up. Basically the code names don't tell us anything that the Commedia titles already don't. Also, the sort of exception to this Childe/young lord versus Tartaglia which means stutterer is just so generic (Columbina also sort of falls into this category, with the even more generic code name in the original chinese of "girl").

However, there are ways to make the code names interesting without their meanings being so. As I mentioned above, the Archons' titles were made interesting not really because of what they meant but their usage. How they tell us about the relationship between the Archon and the one who uses it. Or, as I do in my fic, the one who granted the title. In my fic the commedia names are the titles given to them by the Tsaritsa versus the code names are the names they gave themselves. It gives them distinct different purposes that each tell a story.

So what does canon do to separate the two names? Absolutely nothing. There is no consistency with their usage at all. Like maybe one can argue that one is used by outsiders and the other is used internally. And that would make a degree of sense. All of Childe's Harb voicelines use their code names (in the voiceline title not in the dialogue), Scara calls Pierro the Jester, so does Dottore. But then Scara also calls Dottore well Dottore. And Capitano used Dottore and Scaramouche during the funeral. But Columbina used the Doctor. Then during Zhongli's gnosis hand off Signora calls Childe by his code name but he calls her by her Commedia name in the same scene.

Then lets look at outsiders. Raiden Shogun calls Signora by her Commedia name at the throne room scene, but later in that quest Yae Miko calls Scaramouche only the Balladeer. The Traveler and Paimon seem to flip flop depending on who they are talking about and when. Varka calls Capitano the Captain while singing his praises.

The argument that one name signifies someone is closer to the other falls apart when outsiders also use both names. Unless the voiceline titles are lies, we have Tartaglia calling all the Harbs by their code names, despite the fact that he closer to for example Pulcinella then Signora. And we have Signora using his code name at him to be almost disrespectful while we have Dottore being respectful to Pierro while calling him the Jester... (we also have Scaramouche complaining about Pierro while calling him Jester).

Basically what I'm saying is there isn't remotely any consistency with the name usage of the Harbs names (beyond using their real ones) that tells us anything about them/world building/etc. Or if there is one the game is doing a bad job at clarifying it. And because the code names themselves are pretty generic and don't add anything that isn't already in the Commedia name, why are they even there? I hope one day more information changes my opinion on this, but for the moment they are just unnecessarily confusing.

#genshin impact #fatui harbingers #avem rambling #ok as I said don't take this too seriously #I'm not condemning the game for this there are much more valid things to complain about haha #its just a bit of a pet peeve cause as a writer I'm like what can I analysis these names and learn #and its nothing haha #but yeah we on this discord were talking about how its annoying theres no consistency because as I bring up here we want to use it #like when a harb uses the commedia name does that mean they are closer or more distant from the other harb? idk #like I think the best argument thats been made is that the commedia titles are their 'professional' formal names #but still the usage is all over the place #like a good example of this is at the funeral Columbina calls Dottore Doctor despite the fact that earlier Cap used commedia names #like is it cause they are close #is she insulting him #does she call everyone by their titles who knows #I realize part of this is we don't have enough info about the harbs #which is valid #but I really do feel like at this point the usage of the names amongst outsiders should at least be clear... #tbh ultimately im just annoyed at how boring they are #columbina's is literally just girl cries #i know its been like that since day one with childe aka young lord Signora Lady etc #but still #these are theater kids!

[rubberduckrobin]

Hey hope your having a great day!

I was wondering if I could request a story with Shane x Male reader? maybe just them slowly falling in love over time.

Thank You

-🐭

Hey, Anon!

Thank you so so much for the request, I enjoyed writing it a lot!

It turned out a bit long...so what I'm going to do is post it in 2 sections: parts 1, 2 & 3 and parts 4, 5 & 6. This is section 1. I'll link section 2 at the end :) [or you can just find it after this post].

Sorry for the complications! But I really hope you enjoy (and anyone else reading too!)

For my AO3 pals: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50214880

To fall for someone. - Shane x M! Reader

Summary: On a dreary repeated day, Shane finds something that can finally make him feel free; or rather, someone.

Note: R/N means Reader's Name.

TW: Deep topics & alcohol usage, mild profanity

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

Shane’s perspective throughout.

Part 1: A repetitive day meets a new end.

Stacking shelves at Joja Mart. As usual. 

Watching the clock over my shoulder, ticking for worthless time. As usual.

The sky through the back windows, gloomy and grey, as are my own dull eyes; I watch the clouds swirl, threatening thunder. 

I sigh. 

A walk home in the rain; a way to dampen the already shitty mood. 

One more minute until I finish my day - the day I have been living for an entire year. 

It’s always the same; the shelves, the clock, the darkness. Everythings the same, and nothing has changed…I can’t stand it. 

What’s the point?

The clock ticks 5:00 and I'm off. My bag, light due to being filled with nothing but empty beer cans, slumps over my shoulder as the automatic doors open reluctantly.

————————————————

Life is getting tedious. What’s the point? 

If I have to wake up everyday and do the exact same shitty thing, every. single. day. Then why am I even here? I’m not helping anyone and I’m just a burden. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I feel heavy. My bag is light but I feel heavy. Everything hurts. 

I stumbled out of the saloon at exactly 11:00 PM.

11:00PM.

The same as usual.

Everything hurts and is heavy. As usual. 

Looking up at the sky, I watch a solitary bird amongst the midnight black and I can’t help but wonder if that bird has a purpose too. 

I can’t help but wonder if anything has a purpose. 

And that’s when I see him. 

Watching the same bird. The same sky. But smiling. I’ve forgotten how to smile, how does it feel?

I’ve never seen this guy before. Somehow…it feels refreshingly new. 

Promising.

But why?

What’s the point?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Part 2: Like a moth to a flame.

He sees me. And I feel warmth.

I don’t know how it's possible; I'm in my usual shabby, thin and lint ridden clothes, shivering, watching the sky, in cold, cold rain yet somehow…I feel warmth. 

I shouldn’t want to find out, there’s no point. But somehow, a part of me wants to know more about this stranger, and the fire they started in my heart, whatever my heart is for.

Whatever my heart is for, it longs for them and I can’t deny it. I’m alone in the rain with my consciousness, but then they are here, with me, and my emptiness, even my hidden sadness, and I can’t help feeling like I want to know more. To feel more. More warmth. 

“Ahem. You’ve been staring for quite a while.”

I ruin everything. Of course he’s going to run away and maybe it's for the best.

“At the sky, I mean. But, I guess you've been kinda spacey around my face region.”

This man. He laughs and a blazen passion is sought in my heart.

“Oh…uh…yeah.”

As my only comfort, I bring my hands to my pockets, hands quivering as frostbite makes its way up my fingertips to my palm.

“Nice weather we’re having.”

I can’t respond… It’s meant to be funny, and I'm meant to laugh, but I haven’t laughed in ages…whatever ‘ages’ is, anymore.

“Not into sarcastic jokes? Huh…kay’. Got it…how about…dad jokes? You seem like you like them.”

My only response is a grunt as I turn my back to him. 

He’s trying to cheer me up - he’s too sweet for me. Hurting someone sweet would only make things bitter and worse. For the both of us.

I distinguish the flame in my cradling mind and heart, and go home.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Part 3: Why does the sun come out every morning, and the moon to shine at night?

Waking up is difficult, but not impossible. I’ve done it for years. 

I need to work. It’s the only way I’m useful.

What’s the point?

I don’t know, but today is no different. I put on the same clothes and head to work.

Well, I tried. 

There he was. Outside the house, sleeping on the grass. 

“What on earth are you doing?”

I watch as he wakes violently, confused and drowsy. 

“Huh? Oh…huh?”

“…” It doesn’t matter what I say or do. However, somehow, I care for him alot more than I have ever done for someone, especially myself. “Were you drunk last night?”

“Probably. And you, Mr. Handsome Hangover?”

I don’t need to hear more. I shouldn't put more effort into my curious care. Plus, I'm going to be late.

I turn my back once again and walk down the path. I can’t allow myself to think such things.

To my half-annoyance, I hear the sound of footsteps.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To work. Now go away.”

“What if I said no?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

 There he is. In front of all of the staff, including me of course, introducing himself.

Why.

“Hello! Nice to meet you, and pleasure to be working with you.”

The staff here aren’t the nicest of people so they disregard his warm welcome and immediately shuffle off to work. I don’t blame them. I know what its like working in a corporate shithole for years.

We’re here for work, not for pleasantries. 

I’m just about to join them, when he approaches me.

“Sup. That was a surprise, wasn't it!” he holds his hand out to shake, “well, as you know, I’m (R/N)”

“I don’t care, go away.”

I do care. I really do. I just can’t be bothered for a relationship of any sorts. Its enough having to maintain one with Jas and Marnie. I just…can’t. 

They are already concerned and I don’t want to be a burden to anyone else.

“Oh, yes you do! You stared at me for a good five minutes before you ran off.”

“Stop.”

I begin to distract myself with the shelves I am so familiar with. I can hear the silence and vacancy of this new…bothersome man. 

Looking over my shoulder, I notice he’s hard at work. Huh. Quite surprising. Not completely. People like him are very strong. Mentally, that is. They can put their mind to anything and get it done just fine. I guess one of the things he put his mind to was socialising with me, nobody. I wonder why. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Huh? Oh, cause’ you seemed lonely.”

What’s a better place than the saloon to coincidentally meet someone you’ve been trying to avoid and ignore all day in order to save both of your sanities all at once. 

And an even better place to make a fool of yourself by asking why he approached you the other night, especially when a little tipsy.

Lonely? Do I really look lonely? I never knew it was that…obvious. 

“Oh.”

“And may I ask, why did you walk off that night?”

He says, leaning in, like the devil's temptation, a shot glass dangling seductivley at the tips of his fingers.

“Because.”

“Because?~”

“Because. Now let me be alone.”

“All right.”

Thank god.

“But just one thing.”

Ugh.

“What’s your name?”

I lost my nametag for work a while ago. 

“Shane.”

“Nice to meet you, Shane.”

Why must it be that the warmth seeks my lonely heart instead of those who deserve it?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Another lonely night in my cold bed. I can hear the wind howl, smell my unwashed odoresome sheets, taste the pungent biting liquor from tonight’s round and see nothing but the moonlight filtering through my tattered blinds.

I can feel the tears on my cheeks but It doesn't feel like I'm crying.

I’ve forgotten what crying is, because I've done it so often. I’ve also forgotten the feeling of stopping. 

One of my only escapes is the drinks. 

I need another one, soon, before it becomes more than just a distraction.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

SECTION 2: PARTS 4, 5 & 6

#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #stardew shane #shane x reader #shane stardew valley #sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew fic #stardew fanfic #sdv shane #shane sdv #shane x farmer #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #ao3 author #ao3 link #ao3 writer #fluff #sorta slowburn #male reader #🐭 #anon ask #send anons

[thunderpoolisawesome]

RWBY: Ice Queendom Ep 4 Semi-Review/ Thoughts

HOLY GODDAMN SHITBALLS.

That was a wild episode. I could go as far to say it’s like a wild fever dream.

But damn, I didn’t expect Ruby to be the first to enter a danger like this. (Actually, screw that. She does want to face danger head-on no matter the risk.)

I wish I could explain more in-depth of my thoughts but for now, it’s just gonna be me saying straight up nonsense of whatever I have in mind, but goddamn this episode was one hell of a hype.

So a new piece of information, regarding to Shion, is that the coins Ruby uses to communicate to Shion or use as a means of transport or decoy, it uses her aura? Now correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t an individual’s aura a means of an external shield? I mean, we’ve come to known that the point of an individual’s aura exists by the awakening of their semblance, and by using their semblance more and more, the individual’s aura strengthens; at least that’s what I primarily know what of it. Or does the logic of coin usage from Shion also apply to Jaune’s healing semblance? 

Unless this is telling us that is is another ability that an individual could do to their aura for who knows how. Was it ever stated or mentioned of Shion’s semblance? Is it dreams? I’m feeling dumb now haha.

As stated from the last episode, this Nightmare grim feeds off of an individual’s level of aura by their amount of negativity. In Jaune’s case, his aura was weak despite the weight of his family’s legacy and (in Jaune’s view) their pessimistic perception of Jaune himself thus his team members were able to find the Grim easily and fend it off.

But for Weiss all her life she was trained from the very best, even with her sister Winter, to become a different type of Schnee while maintaining a sense of legacy for her family name. Weiss is a person torn between a responsibility of finding her own path to be herself and finding a sense of respect or attention of herself towards her family, especially towards her father; Jacques Schnee. Yeah, Jacques is really an asshole for saying he’s the one who, for lack of a better term, uplifted the Schnee family name thus its legacy.

Weiss, although portrayed as aloof and self-centered towards her teammates, has been struggling throughout her life trying to fit into a circle of expectations, high expectations, to be the very best; to be perfect amongst all her peers. To be perfect towards her father. And when things don’t seem to go through her desired wants, she essentially shatters. Even while talking to Professor Port about considering what’s a leader and a teammate, she twists the vision of being a ‘good teammate’ to a role based on a test of hierarchy. If she continues to mask herself as a good teammate, she thinks she might get a higher sense of respect, attention, even a sense of authority.

Yet at the same time, Weiss does have moments to ponder to herself if this vision of herself is even the self she wants to be. Weiss is not a bad person and we can see that in this episode. When she saw Ruby, Weiss seemed to be concerned of her presence within this nightmare empire. From this one instance, we can see a part of Weiss care for others even when she does not want to admit it. However, she’s scolded from Jacques. Despite her concern, she must act by her fathers’ will because really, throughout her terrible childhood, she’s been prepared to be like one of her family.

I really resonated a lot with Weiss in this episode, and although my points seem to come out as confusing, Weiss is struggling to become what makes Team RWBY, Team RWBY. As a person who’s the eldest in my family, you’re weighted with a lot of responsibility that often makes you wonder, “Is this really for me? Is this what I want to be?” Same goes for Weiss. We know this is a Nightmare grim feeding Weiss the pressure of expectation the perception her father wants her to be. She’s acting the role of what her father wants, but she needs to put her true desires astray, which in the process hurts her.

I know there’s a lot more to discuss in this episode and you know what? I’m hyped to talk more about it. Overall, an amazing episode for sure! While I think episode 3 should stretch a little more screen time to show a bit of length between the feud of Weiss and Blake that could make a bit more sense for this episode, it’s great and I can’t wait for the next one haha.

BONUS:

I’M WHEEZING-

Yeah, for real Ruby. What kind of salute is that? xD

#rwby #rwby ice queendom #rwby ice queendom spoilers #weiss schnee #I'M FUCKING HYPED LET'S GOOO #ThrashPileWorks

[bettinabianca]

The Genius of the Crowd by Charles Bukowski

I’ve been into writing starting roughly at the age of 12. By the age of 12, I mean actually writing decent journals about my experiences on a daily basis and add a sprinkle of few short poems here and there. I think my childhood habit of updating my diary which had a lock and a small key to open it is what engineered this whole writing fandango. And then when I was around the age of 8-11 years old, my older sister frequently borrowed books from our school’s library. It was a series named “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” and as soon as she finished reading one, I would grab the book and read it myself. Afterwards, she brought home this one book by Edgar Allan Poe although I forgot what it’s called. And then when I hit my adolescence, I read some of Rick Riordan’s works- also stealing my sister’s borrowed books for the nth time. Basically, all these is what fostered my inclination for reading and ultimately writing. Not to brag but when I was in high school, I was always the highest lexile scorer in Scholastic Reading program, consistently.

But too much of me, and albeit this little achievement of mine, I didn’t really know who my favorite writer nor book was. Until I came across Charles Bukowski and his works at the time I needed to, when I was in my third and fourth year of high school; when I met depression and all things mental talk. Amongst all his works, some of which I have yet to discover and appreciate and others I’ve read once but is not yet the right time for its usage and relevance in my own life, and so I save it for later and discard it like a cigarette I draw out when melancholia kicks in (and yes I don’t smoke but sometimes I’d like to try) one in particular stands out, and it’s The Genius of the Crowd.

To simplify things for everyone, I like it and consider it my favorite poem at the time of writing pretty much because it resonates with me. Personally, I don’t prefer to stick to a single definition on things make it music-wise, genre-wise, film-wise, and especially personality-wise. I guess I’m just that random. Consider me as an actor who doesn’t want to be typecast. But, in reality I do have my favorites just like everybody else when it comes to things. Something/ someone always stands out in my sight. And weird, unusual things will forever be at the top of the list. Charles, in my opinion, possesses that quality I’m keen in looking for. The non-conformity.

The Genius of the Crowd though, I believe, speaks in the opposite direction. I think it’s coming from the point of view of someone trying to fit in the crowd and conforming to it. The crowd who thinks that hatred is strength and that love is weakness. Meshed together, it represents the living hypocrisy and contradiction in humans. The inner conflicts that everyone faces in themselves and in others. The beliefs that others have that they think are superior to their peers. And vice versa. I feel like, deep down, it’s coming from a place of insecurity. And this, is what attracts me to it. Because it has no absolutes. It has no sense of sureness. On the other hand, Charles may have been writing in a depressed state, but for me, the Genius of the Crowd is not trying to blind the readers into thinking in a pessimistic way just because its theme is pessimistic, even cynical at that. But I feel like all the rumination about human nature and its consequences both have their aftermaths and silver linings. That it was just written this way to serve as an eye opener for its readers. And that people will always have the chance and the choice to turn things around and make it work for what is good and what is better. And if that goodness is acquired, it does not necessarily suggest that it was done in a standard means but maybe in an eccentric, out of the box  thinking; but no matter in which way it was conceived, it still worked. To end my analysis on a more profound conclusion, The Genius of the Crowd upholds to its name and to what it tries to portray and signify, because we all know what it entails to be humans, and that is being both good and bad, both beauty and madness, black and white, yin and yang. And all the while, the poem itself manifests that attributes. From start to finish it sways to a chaotic music which gradually slow burns to a universal concept and realization- to be human, you can’t be just this. You have to be both, or better yet, all.

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎

𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚍, 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎

𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎

𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝

𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚝

-The Genius of the Crowd

#hibbgi #charles bukowski

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Laugh

Prompt: Hi!! I really love your writing and always look forward to when you update, I can’t tell if your prompts are open (please ignore this if they aren’t!) but if they are I have a prompt for your (un)wanted series; each of the fae making Virgil laugh for the first time, at first he’s insecure/scared to laugh because of experiences in the village but he slowly learns to be ok/comfortable laughing thanks to the fae; again, if your prompts aren’t open I apologize and hope you have a nice day!! - anon

so uh

hey

did you guys know that this past Friday was the one year anniversary of the first chapter of (un)wanted

'cause wow

uhhhhhh I'm not good at speeches so have fluff

Read on Ao3 (Un)Wanted Masterlist

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, it’s found family nonsense

Word Count:  5419

Whether or not they agree on who made Virgil laugh first is irrelevant, the point is that they’ll find something to argue about sooner or later, and when they do, Virgil’s learned enough to curl up with Oliver and just watch. Preferably from the safety of the kraken’s head, a little bit away from the shore, where he’s close enough to hear the things they say but not close enough to be in the way.

It was Oliver’s idea to do that, actually. Virgil…hasn’t been the best at learning how to deal with anger. Other people’s anger, in particular, for completely understandable reasons.

 It had been Logan who spotted it, coming over to his side when the twins were having an argument over what side of the lake they were each taking jurisdiction for that decade and Roman’s voice had risen, Remus’s voice had multiplied, and Logan had seen Virgil curl in on himself, clutching his tunic tightly around him and trying desperately to vanish into the wall.

 Once the twins realized what was happening—namely, Virgil breathing heavily in Logan’s arms as he glared at the two of them for being so oblivious—they’d stopped right away, calming down and crouching to be smaller so that Virgil could see them, see them, not their anger, and apologize. Remus had tugged Virgil into his lap as part of his apology and Roman had ruffled his hair and promised that he’d never raise his voice around him again.

 Logan had been quiet as Virgil clung to him, only later working up the courage to ask what was wrong with him.

 “Nothing is wrong with you, little one, you’re experiencing symptoms of your trauma.” A cool hand had passed over his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his face. “Your experiences with human anger have not been good, it stands to reason that you react to it.”

 “But—it’s stupid,” Virgil had spat, “I know—I should know you guys won’t—won’t—“

 “Shh, shh, hush, now…that’s it. Come back here for a moment. There you go.” Logan’s chin had come to rest on top of Virgil’s head. “Knowing something theoretically and properly internalizing it are two different processes, little one. It’s going to take time.”

 “But I’ve given it time.”

 “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. There’s no textbook on healing from trauma.”

 “There should be.”

 Logan had chuckled. “I don’t think even with our combined lifetimes we would be able to read it.”

 But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t start trying to help Virgil work through it. It had been the twins who started taking the bigger steps; sometimes Roman or Remus would be spending time with Virgil and the other would bustle in, muttering about something or other gone wrong. A patch of kelp that kept getting infected, a herd of deer that insisted on trampling half of the garden, something. And as they talked, the other would coax Virgil into their lap, keeping him grounded. Their voices might raise, just a little, but they were very careful not to yell and the warm weight of arms around Virgil and a head on his shoulder kept him safe.

 When someone couldn’t hold him, Oliver does. The kraken made no secret of how much he liked to hold Virgil—Remus muttered something about how he wasn’t jealous of a kraken, shut up, Roman—and had no reservations about extending an arm for Virgil to step into to wrap him up and carry him to safety. The others made sure not to yell, of course, but that meant that it manifested in other ways.

 Logan’s hands turned blue.

 Roman’s magic started to tingle from his fingers.

 Remus’s tentacles came out.

 Janus started hissing.

 Patton’s chest glowed.

 And sometimes, when he’s safely in someone else’s arms and high away on top of Oliver’s head, that was fine.

 Virgil shuffles a little, careful to keep his weight squarely on top of Oliver, not shifting too much either side. Of course, that’s easy when Oliver is really fucking huge. And the kraken burbles every now and then, shifting slowly from side to side in the water, careful not to jostle him too much. He pats the spot next to him in thanks and the water thrums with Oliver’s purr.

 Onshore, about twenty feet away, he makes eye contact with Logan. Logan rolls his eyes dramatically, the sheer exasperation on his face making Virgil snort. When he looks back, Logan’s face has softened considerably into such fondness that he can feel the tips of his ears flush.

 “I don’t know why we’re still fucking arguing about this,” Remus says, drawing their attention, “I won! I got him to laugh first! So I win!”

 “You have no proof of that,” Roman says immediately, “besides, you haven’t even told us what it is, how are we supposed to trust that?”

 “Just because we’re not all Lolo with his meticulous journals and note-taking methods doesn’t mean I’m not right, you absolute—“

 “Language!”

 “Oh, I’ll show you fucking language—“

 “How is it,” Virgil mumbles at Oliver, “that they’ve been arguing for so long and Remus hasn’t said what he thinks it is yet?”

 The kraken just shrugs. Carefully, not moving Virgil, but he does shrug.

 “Well, since you’re so adamant that you’re correct,” Janus drawls, effectively cutting off Remus and Patton’s tangent about swearing—which is something they never can quite put down—“why don’t you tell us what it is?”

 “Roro and Pat were there,” Remus huffs, putting his hands on his hips, I don’t see what there is to argue about.”

 “We were—oh goodness,” Patton sighs, “are you talking about the first time Virgil met Oliver?”

 Remus beams. “Sure am!”

 “Was that when I got absolutely covered in that voracious green slime that was determined to consume me?” Roman scoffs and wipes his sleeves at the memory of it. “Absolutely dreadful.”

 Remus throws his head back and cackles.

 “It was a wonder I was able to get clean,” Roman mutters, glaring at his brother, absolutely splitting his sides.

 “Ah,” Remus sighs after a moment, wiping his eyes, “good times, good times.”

 He points victoriously at Patton.

 “See? You were there! You remember!”

 Patton sighs. “I do…but that doesn’t count.”

 “What?” Remus whirls around and gestures at Oliver, who stick up two tentacle tips and waves. “Are you discounting this magnificent, glorious beastie from our debate?”

 “Technically that would be Oliver getting Virgil to laugh, not you.”

 “Or,” Roman says, puffing his chest out, “it would be me. Since I was the one to get so egregiously wounded—“

 “You were covered in slime,” Logan points out, “calm down.”

 “—then it was me that sparked that reaction.”

 Virgil rolls his eyes and pats Oliver’s head again. “You’re not just a beastie, you know that, right?”

 Oliver rumbles under him.

 “Okay, good.”

 “Besides, that was barely a laugh.” Patton pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was…okay, yes, it’s one of my favorite memories since Virgil has come to stay with us—“

 Remus turns and shoots Virgil a wink over his shoulder.

 “—but a laugh?” Patton looks at Logan. “What’s the definition of a laugh, Lo?”

 “Technically, it’s to express certain emotions, particularly mirth or delight, through a series of spontaneous and usually unarticulated sounds.” Logan crosses his arms. “Which means that as long as it wasn’t planned and it wasn’t articulated, anything counts as a laugh.”

 “Thank you!”

 “Alright, alright,” Patton huffs, “always with the technicalities.”

 “You were the one who asked me for the definition.”

 “So what do you think it is,” Janus asks, examining his gloves with feigned disinterest, “since you’re so insistent that you know the correct usage of the word ‘laugh?’”

 Virgil can see Patton’s grin from Oliver’s head.

 “Why, the bread day, of course!”

 As if on cue, several groans go up around the clearing.

 “Patton, none of us were there for that—“

 “You can’t just keep insisting on that one, it’s not like—“

 “You can stop rubbing it in, Pat—“

 “Of course, you need—“

 “It was wonderful,” Patton says, raising his voice just a little to speak over the others, “he looked so happy.”

 Virgil does actually remember that one too. And yes, okay, maybe he’s glad that he’s far away from the others so they can’t see the small smile spreading over his face at the memory. The warm kitchen, the smell of the bread, the soft warmth of Patton’s presence next to him…

 Yeah, that’s a good memory.

 Oliver thrums under him and he pats the kraken’s head absentmindedly. Patton sighs over on the shore as the others mutter amongst themselves. Then he claps his hands.

 “Well, I think that’s me winning, so—“

 “Hold on,” Logan says, holding up his hand, “as we said, you are the only one who was there. I would argue that a laugh where all of us were present is much more significant.”

 He glances up at Virgil and his gaze softens.

 “Considering the incredible amount of work that Virgil has done since arriving to stay with us, I’d say that marks…quite an achievement.”

 Of course, as soon as one of them starts to get all sappy, the rest quickly join in. Virgil is incredibly glad that he can use shifting on top of Oliver’s head to duck away from the blush he knows is spreading all over his face. Mostly so he doesn’t have to look at the fondness and pride on their faces. Partly because he knows Roman would immediately become insufferable.

 “So,” Roman says after a while, which means it’s safe to look up again, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

 Logan crosses his arms, using one hand to adjust his glasses on his face. “Do we all remember the first time Virgil began to experiment with his webs?”

 Virgil’s breath catches in his throat. Oh, he knows what Logan’s talking about.

 The seasons had been turning, fall creeping in through the tendrils of the forest. The leaves had begun to change, dislodging themselves from their branches and twisting down through the air to land in massive piles on the ground. Carpets of red, orange, purple, and brown had covered the paths they would walk, fruits growing heavy and ripe. Roman and Patton had spent hours out in the woods near the lake with him, plucking berries off the trees and eating them until their mouths and fingers were stained with the juice.

 The trees around the clearing had lost their leaves a little quicker than the others, leaving their limbs bare, the naked wood gleaming in the sun. The light had warmed the leaves during the day, leaving them dry and crunchy as they walked over them. Something Virgil hadn’t minded at all during the day—he had gotten into more than a few playful encounters with Remus, crashing through the leaves just to hear them crunch—but when night had rolled around…

 The thin limbs blowing in the breeze hadn’t been pleasant reminders that the seasons were changing. No, they were fingers tapping threateningly on the windows, or looming there to scratch him if he moved too much.

 Logan had noticed him hovering just outside the clearing the next day, softly placing a hand on his shoulder after alerting him to his presence and asking, gently, what the matter was.

 “The…the trees,” Virgil had muttered, balling his fists up in shame, “I, um…they…”

 Logan had taken one look at the way the shadows fell around the clearing and nodded firmly. “I understand, little one.”

 He’d tucked Virgil up in his arms when Virgil asked, rubbing his back gently.

 “Would you like to talk about it, or be distracted from it?”

 “Distraction, please.”

 Logan had smiled. “Have you had a chance to practice with your webs yet?”

 “No.”

 “Would you like to try now?”

 “Uh, sure. What do we do?”

 Logan had started to walk them toward the center of the clearing, explaining how spiders use their webs as a part of their consciousness.

 “Wait, they what?”

 Logan had nodded. “There is a theory of mind known as ‘extended cognition.’ It states that whilst humans—and most sentient beings—use their minds as a great deal of their processing of thought and feeling, we rely on a lot of external structures outside of our minds to help us think. Sometimes outside of our own bodies as well.”

 “Whoa…” Virgil had looked down at his hands. “What do you mean?”

 “Think of the way you organize your room.” Logan had gestured to Virgil’s door. “It’s laid out in a way that helps you think, helps you process information. It informs your decision-making sometimes, does it not?”

 At Virgil’s nod, Logan had asked softly for his hand, beginning to make small circles in the air as Virgil started to let his webs slip.

 “The same is true of a spider’s web. Picture the web as something of a hub.”

 “A hub?”

 “Yes. Do you remember talking about how spiders use their webs?”

 “Yeah, as like a sensory extension. They can feel the vibrations of different strands in order to track their food or sense what’s coming for them.”

 Logan had smiled. “Very good memory, Virgil, that’s excellent. Yes, they can tell the difference between different types of vibrations too, from different types of prey to debris to predators.”

 A small web starts to form between the gaps in Virgil’s fingers.

 “But what else they do is fascinating.” He tugs very gently on one of the strands. “The spider isn’t idle when it sits in the middle of its web. Rather, it’s constantly moving, checking each individual strand. Pulling this one a little tighter, tugging that one.”

 Virgil watches as the light gleams off of the strands. He moves his fingers a little to watch them. “What for?”

 “Pulling a strand tighter makes it more sensitive to vibrations.” He reaches up to Virgil’s head. “Like cupping your hand around your ear to hear things more clearly.”

 “Whoa, that’s cool.”

 “Mm. An external way of filtering what information the spider receives in order to better process it.”

 Virgil had looked up at Logan. Logan had smiled softly and stepped back, letting Virgil spin the web between his own hands.

 “…you think this will help me too?”

 “I think that my research has shown that taking a spider’s web away from them severely impairs their ability to function,” had come the quiet reply, “and that you haven’t had much of a chance to spin freely.”

 Virgil had looked down at his hands. The web had looked so small, too small. He had looked back up at Logan, chewing on his lip.

 “Can I…?”

 Logan had smiled and folded his hands behind his back.

 Virgil had closed his eyes and reached.

 There was something strange, he had realized, about being in your body without being in your body. Something like a wall, sometimes thick, sometimes only static, between you and whatever you sense. Hiding somewhere in a corner of your mind where you were in the world, but not really with the world. As if you were existing but just…slightly to the left.

 His body didn’t need to do anything spectacular, it just needed to exist. He was a shape. Just a shape. Nothing more, nothing less.

 And that was okay.

 Without even realizing it, his four legs had lifted him up, suspending him a few inches off the ground as his hands continued to spin. He had felt them taking the web produced and moving it from place to place, but he wasn’t thinking about it.

 He had just…done it.

 He had been the slight crack in his left finger as he wrapped his hands around and around the threads of the web.

 He had been the very tip of his upper left leg as it took the web and tossed it into place.

 He had been the last strand that decided to stick to somewhere and make that its home.

 When he had opened his eyes, an unknown amount of time later, his mouth had dropped open in awe.

 The clearing, previously empty save for the bare-limbed trees and scattered leaves, was draped and covered in spiderwebs.

 Logan, who must’ve been standing there quietly, had looked up and around him, eyes wide with wonder. He had turned slowly, spotting Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, all staring around with wide eyes at the mass of webs that clung with gossamer elegance to the fabric of the world.

 Virgil had hung there, suspended amidst the web, spinning slowly as he felt the world breathe.

 Dusk had fallen, bathing the clearing in a soft light that reached gentle fingers out to paint thin blue shadows along the ground. The cool air had been weightless, blowing effortlessly through each strand and setting it to tingle. Everywhere a strand vibrated, a single drop of dew had formed, a single crystal in the half-dark.

 A glittering hub.

 And for the first time, Virgil had looked at something he’d made not with fear, not with anger, but with wonder.

 And he’d laughed.

 Giddy, child-like, bemused entirely by his creation and the way his body molded to the soft chimes of the web, spinning, spinning, unspun in the comfort of the mist.

 Virgil’s legs twitch behind him at the memory of the first web, and as he looks down, he realizes he’s been idly toying with a web on top of Oliver. The kraken, of course, is more than delighted to realize he’s received a present, burbling happily as Logan finishes his quiet recounting of that evening. A lull hangs over the shore for a moment before Logan adjusts his tie.

 “I believe I win.”

 “Hold on,” Roman says, “let’s not be too hasty, here.”

 “I do remember that,” Patton murmurs, glancing over at Virgil, “that web was so pretty.”

 “Pretty enough for Logan to win?”

 “Maybe not that pretty.” He sends a wink at Virgil.

 Rude.

 “Well,” Logan huffs, turning to Roman, “if you’re so certain, Roman, what on earth do you think it is?”

 Virgil can hear the fucking smirk on his face from here.

 “Have you all forgotten so quickly?” He spreads his arms. “Has the image of our sleepy little spider left your minds so soon after it happened?”

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Virgil knows exactly what Roman’s talking about.

 Okay, in his defense—who is he kidding, he knows damn well he set himself up for this. But it had been such a long day! He’d been working with Logan, trying to get the garden set up properly and that was hard, okay? Trying to manage the three different notebooks, the planters, the pots, the tools, it was a lot, and he still wasn’t used to using his new legs so he kept bumping into things and it was a lot. Then he had to help Patton with clearing out another section of the kitchen to make room for all the new baking pans and they were so loud and hard to manage and get the things in all the right places took so long and ugh. And then to top it all off Janus had promised to go with him on a walk and—listen, okay, the day was long.

 And Roman is really, really warm.

 He’d been walking back from the portal, drained from the effort of keeping his magic under control on the other side of the garden, panting slightly as he rounded the corner. He’d looked up just in time to see Roman shutting his red door behind him.

 “Ah,” he’d said, coming over with a smile, “there you are, little honeybee, I’ve been looking for you.”

 He’d taken one look at Virgil’s demeanor, however, and quickly softened his voice, coming a little closer, hands at the ready to ensure he was alright.

 “What’s happened, little honeybee, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

 “I’m fine, Roman, I just—oh—“

 “Shh, easy, hey, come here…” Roman had leaned Virgil gently against the side of the house. “Too much?”

 Virgil had nodded wearily. “Think I just…pushed it a little too hard today.”

 “It happens.” He’d run his hand gently through Virgil’s hair. “Magic-wise or just existence-wise?”

 “Bit of both?”

 “My poor little honeybee, you must be exhausted.” Virgil’s eyes had slipped closed for a moment as Roman had carded his hand through his hair again. “Do you want to be left alone, or can I take care of you?”

 Virgil had leaned into Roman’s touch and mumbled something. Roman had chuckled.

 “Those aren’t words, little honeybee.”

 “Mm.” Virgil had managed to crack one eye open. “C’n I come with you?”

 “Of course, Virgil, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

 Roman had guided him carefully through the red door, sitting him down and producing cloth and bottle out of seemingly nowhere. He had shushed any protests gently, saying that it didn’t matter that Virgil hadn’t been crying, he can still let Roman clean his face off. He’d cupped Virgil’s head and asked him quietly to look at him.

 “I don’t want you to fall asleep here, little honeybee,” he’d murmured, “so try and stay awake until we can get you somewhere comfortable, alright?”

 “I’m not that tired,” he’d protested, “I’ll be fine.”

 Roman had just smiled.

 And Virgil really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him be so tired that he’d tried really hard to keep his eyes open. Even when Roman’s hand under his chin had been so warm, so confident in holding his head right where it needed to be. Even when the soothing repetitive motions of the cloth had coaxed his gaze not to Roman’s face but to the way the fabric moved in and out of his vision. Even when Roman had to pause and rewet the cloth and he’d let his eyes drift shut for a moment, just a moment.

 Only to realize later that Roman had stopped completely, and was watching him with a quietly smug smile.

 “Stay awake for me, little honeybee,” he’d whispered, “I’m almost done.”

 “‘M trying.”

 “I know, I know,” Roman had soothed, finishing cleaning his face, “and you’re doing a wonderful job for me.”

 Then, of course, everything had gone wrong.

 Because just that one little word of praise had been enough for the very tips of Virgil’s ears to go read, and of course, Roman had spotted it.

 “Little honeybee,” he’d murmured, tilting Virgil’s chin up just a little higher, “what’s got you so flustered?”

 “Nothing.”

 “Hmm, nothing? Are you sure? Your ears look awful red.”

 “It’s fine.”

 “Oh, I’m sure,” Roman had said lowly, still cleaning off Virgil’s face with gentle swipes of the cloth, “I’m sure it’s fine, little honeybee, I trust you completely, I’m simply worried. If I’m doing something wrong, then I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

 He says, as he’d looked directly into Virgil’s eyes.

 “Why,” Virgil had whined out as Roman had chuckled, watching him cover his face, “are you so mean?”

 “Sorry, little honeybee,” Roman had murmured, not sounding very sorry at all as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, “I couldn’t resist, you’re too cute.”

 “I am not!”

 “Oh, little honeybee—“

 “No,” Virgil had said—said, definitely, not pouted, “don’t respond to that.”

 “If you insist.” Roman had given him another moment before reminding him that he still needs to finish. “I’m really almost done, I promise. It won’t take much longer.”

 Of course, having someone hold your face when you were already flustered is not easy, and it was Roman, so…

 “What happened,” he had asked as though he didn’t know damn well what had happened, “why aren’t you so sleepy anymore, little honeybee?”

 Virgil had been quite impressed with the glare he’d managed to give Roman through the remaining blush on his cheeks. Roman had simply laughed.

 “Alright, I deserve that.” He’d stroked a thumb carefully over Virgil’s clean cheek and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the other. “You did wonderfully, little honeybee, thank you. I’m all done now.”

 Roman had turned away, putting the cloth and the bottle back into whatever aether he’d pulled them out of and offering his hand to Virgil.

 “Come on, do you want to change into something else?”

 The sleepy haze had returned by the time he’d managed to get into the softer clothes Roman had offered, all but stumbling into Roman’s arms as they retreated to the large mess of cushions and pillows. Roman had laid down first, Virgil on top of him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other scratching lightly at the center of his four legs.

 “Shh, shh,” he’d coaxed when Virgil had started to whine, “none of that now, little honeybee, just relax.”

 A soft knock on the door.

 “Yes?”

 “Roman, have you seen…” Logan had trailed off the instant he spotted them. “Ah. Nevermind.”

 “Have I seen our little spider?” Roman had lightly knuckled Virgil’s jaw. “Yes, I believe I have. Did you need something?”

 “Only to join you, if you’d allow me.” He’d glanced behind up. “Or rather, allow us.”

 Virgil hadn’t been able to fully recognize the others coming in to join them around the mass of pillows, but he had registered the soft weight of Patton asking if he could dust him off a little and the soft gurgle of Remus as he settled in above them on the wall.

 “My, my,” a voice had drawled, Virgil too tired to look over at Janus, “what a sleepy little spider.”

 “Mm.” Virgil had felt Roman’s chest warm as the hand on his back continued to scratch gently. “Precious little spider.”

 “Are you two just going to fuss at him until he falls asleep?”

 “Why shouldn’t we?”

 “Well, if you fluster him too badly he might not be able to sleep.”

 “Why, Logan, I’m hurt. Surely you know we would never.”

 Virgil still isn’t sure what it was, whether it was the drawl of Janus’s voice, Logan’s disbelieving scoff, or the very real memory of Roman enjoying driving him out of his mind a few minutes ago, but whatever it was, it bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and he started to giggle.

 The room had gone quiet, just listening to Virgil lying on Roman’s chest, absolutely stunned.

 “You’re so giggly, little spider,” Roman had teased, “so giggly, so adorable, I’ve never heard you giggle before. It’s so cute!”

 “Giggle spider, is that a thing, Logan?”

 “Well, it certainly is now.”

 Roman had rubbed his back soothingly, still teasing, trying to lull Virgil back to sleep. Janus had reached over and tucked a blanket over the two of them, leaning down to kiss Virgil’s hair and murmur something about getting it out, little spider, it would be alright.

 Virgil isn’t sure if that was the first time he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face, but it wasn’t the last.

 “…yes, alright,” Logan concedes, “that was adorable.”

 Roman throws his hands up in triumph. “See? Everyone’s favorite is our giggle spider.”

 Yeah, Virgil’s really glad he’s not standing next to Roman right now, and that he’s far enough away that they can’t see his blush if he ducks his head. He still gets all giggly when he remembers it, no use in reminding everyone of that now.

 “Janus? Are you going to try and compete, or…” Roman strikes a dramatic pose. “Shall we commence with my victory already?”

 Janus is quiet for a minute. Then he raises his hand and lets a little bit of the golden glow of the Claim flicker up around his hand.

 “Virgil,” he says softly—oh, he’s using it so he doesn’t have to raise his voice, that’s clever— “would you come over here, please?”

 “Uh, sure.” He pats Oliver’s head and the kraken burbles, wrapping an arm tightly around Virgil’s waist to set him on the shore near Remus. Remus reaches out to steady him, make sure he’s alright. “I’m good, thanks. I’m here now.”

 “Yes, thank you, little mouse.” Janus tilts his head. “Do you have a favorite?”

 “…favorite?”

 “A time you laughed,” comes the soft voice, “do you have one? It’s alright if you don’t.”

 Virgil glances around the circle, expecting to see scoffs or playful challenges or maybe—just maybe—someone will whisper that he knows theirs is the correct choice. But he doesn’t.

 All he sees are curious expressions, even a few encouraging smiles.

 “Wait, really?”

 Janus nods. “Anything? It doesn’t have to be much.”

 Virgil thinks. Does he? He remembers meeting Oliver for the first time, remembers making bread with Patton, remembers spinning in the clearing, remembers falling asleep on Roman’s chest.

 Something else…something else…

 “I remember,” he starts nervously, “it was one of the first times I went for a walk at night by myself.”

 He looks around, maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that, but no judgment meets his gaze. He swallows.

 “It was dark outside but the moon was really bright. I could see perfectly, even with the trees, all the way to the lake.”

 He glances behind him, at Oliver, playing in the reeds.

 “Oliver was asleep. He—I think it was after you guys spent the day cleaning out the underbelly of the caverns down there, he was really tired. So the lake was, like, super flat.”

 He remembers little ripples, just the barest touch of the breeze to the surface of the water.

 “And I, um, I realized that I’d never actually seen anything be that…” He struggles for a moment for the right word. “…still before.”

 He shifts a little.

 “Everything was always moving. Even when it was quieter, the water was never completely flat. There were waves, there were—there was always something.”

 But not that night. No, that night it felt like the lake was breathing, not like the wind was blowing across it. If he sat still enough, it was almost as if he could watch it inhale and exhale, at peace in the moonlight.

 “And I…I dunno, I really liked the way the moon looked.” He looks down at his hands. “It, uh, reminded me of what the Claim looks like.”

 He’d sat there for a while, just staring at his hands, wondering how the gold of the Claim would look bathed in silvery light. He’d rubbed them together, trying to see if he could feel it, only for something else to emerge entirely.

 He hears the gasps of Roman and Patton as a purple orb begins to form in his hands.

 “I, uh…made this for the first time that night,” he murmurs, watching it spin and dance in his hands, suspended there, floating like some great bubble, “and it looked…like me.”

 He remembers staring into it and not seeing anything but energy. About looking at it the way he used to watch the moon, the stars, anything he could never understand but wanted to, so desperately.

 Only to realize that he already understood it.

 Gone were the gauntlets, gone were the strings, gone were the threats of torture and hurt and pain.

 All that was left was this.

 And feeling that relief, seeing this orb as a manifestation of the fact that it was free…

 In that release, he’d laughed.

 “It was…the first time I think I realized I was me.”

 Virgil looks up at them. The orb fades back into nothingness, leaving his hands empty. After a pause, Janus reaches forward and gently draws him in.

 “That,” he says softly, “that is my favorite.”

 “You fucking sap.”

 “He has gone soft.”

 “Oh, like you haven’t?”

 And just like that, the petty bickering is back, but filled with fondness and barely concealed amusement and it’s so perfect, it’s so right, that Virgil can’t help himself.

 Virgil can’t help it, he laughs.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #fae sides #fic

[seouliie]

bikini bottoms (m)

having a job as a lifeguard on the beach has you doing many things you’ve never done before. stopping fights between a 5 year old and a seagull, spending hours trying to dig a jeep out of a 4 foot hole some doofus had dug, and lastly, giving jung hoseok a blowjob.

(gif from weheartit)

GENRE: e2l, smut, lifeguard!au

WORDS: 2753

MEMBER: jung hoseok

WARNINGS: really only a blowjob, implied smut, possible part two, hoseok is a fuckboy, mention of sexual harassment, there’s banter in this and hoseok slaps yn’s ass, but it’s all playful!!

The wooden chair of the lifeguard tower creaks as you sit down, as if releasing a heavy sigh after a long night of no usage, now to be sat on at the fresh time of 10 am- the start of your work day. From above, the people now rolling in to the beach start appearing, encouraged by the sunny sky and beautiful weather to get on their swimsuits and hop in the clear water.

This was an everyday thing for you- and you loved it. The fresh air seemingly always in the atmosphere, tinted by the salty smell of the sea, the sun, the sand- everything. It was the perfect way to start your day, and the perfect day to end it. Your mornings could never go wrong at the beach.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the outline of a rather familiar figure making his way towards the lifeguard tower, a frown naturally forming onto to your lips.

Well, except for one thing.

Meet Jung Hoseok, the heartthrob of the beach. Not gonna lie, the only reason you haven't filed a complaint for him to get fired was because almost half of the people who come to the beach are teenagers who want a piece of him. Not just him- his dick. If he did evidently get fired, then less people would actually come, meaning less money for you. Yes, you have thought this through before. And you prefer money.

"______!"

You sigh, not wanting to interact with this sex machine at least until you've had your third cup of coffee. Lazily, you respond: "Yes, Hoseok?"

He smiles when you make eye contact with him, his gaze pure and playful. "You left your shoes at the shed! I wanted to bring them to you!" A hand covers his eyes from the rays of the sun, and he lifts his other hand to reveal your pair of dark blue flip-flops hanging off his middle finger.

"I know, Hoseok," you reply. "I leave them on purpose. I don't like the feeling of shoes on a beach." You rake a hand through your hair, your strands getting blown into your eyes from the slight wind.

"Well, I brought them, so you might as well wear it." He smirks as he waves the shoes around mockingly. From afar, the sound of a baseline is audible, hinting that the car of the boy-crazy girls have arrived.

You scoff. "Just throw them up or something. Don't you know how? Weren't you captain of your basketball team?"

Hoseok laughs, a sound that- for some reason- causes your stomach to flurry. "First of all, I was not captain and I barely played since the coach despised me. Secondly, I will not throw these up, and you will come down to get them."

High-pitched laughter rings through your ears, causing your mood to already turn negative. You roll your eyes. "Don't you have some girls to fuck? I can practically hear them calling your name already in their squeaky ass voices like some fourth graders."

At this, the raven haired boy pouts, slight wind brushing his bangs into his eyes. "Come on, I'm trying to be nice, princess."

You bit your lip. The sun was pretty hot today, the wood burning up below your feet. Maybe you should put some comfort between your skin the the fiery hot chair. "Alright fine." You stand up and turn around, going down the ladder one foot at a time.

Little did you know, Hoseok was not focused at all on giving your shoes back. After he saw you climbing down the little wooden stubs, his eyes were trained on your ass, naturally pushed out each step. Once stepping onto the grainy smooth sand, you swiftly grab your shoes from his hand, pulling him out of his trance.

You bend down to slide the soft material onto your feet and shake your head. "God, making me do all this extra work for nothing-"

A hard smack to your ass cuts you off mid-sentence. Jung fucking Hoseok. Almost breaking your neck from looking up so fast, you notice that the human incarnated form of aggravation is not in front of you like he was a second ago. He's halfway up the ladder.

"Hoseok!" You cry, shocked by how he slapped your ass and how he climbed the goddamn thing so fast. "The hell are you doing?"

"Getting away from those girls." He says as he reaches for another slab of woob. "Jesus, you fuck them once, and they get all attached."

The group of girls have already set up their towel on the pale sand, one of them already oiling themselves up. He fucked them all? Like.. at once or all tog- You huff a breath of air. You are not going to be thinking about that right now.

"Not all at once, of course," He calls out, which makes you wonder if you were thinking out loud. "Although it definitely wasn't individual." Hoseok talks with a sly tone, raising a brow at you.

Looking back at the girls, you see them talking amongst themselves. However, they are all turning their heads, looking for one thing- the thing that's sitting at the top of the lifeguard tower.

Realization hits you like a truck. "Jung Hoseok, you are not leaving me with those maniacs."

He snorts, raking a hand through his hair. "Yes you are! I got you your shoes, do me this favor."

You could not believe the audacity of this man. He practically forced you to take the shoes, and now as a 'favor' you had to deal with those hoes who you only wish would get a grip of self worth so they stop chasing after that man? What a great way to start your day.

"Oh my fucking God." Anger is flowing through your veins, taking over your thoughts and actions, and you no longer can feel your sanity. "This is not a fucking favor, this is you manipulating me for you sake, so fuck you slutty bitch!"

The sand is wet and warm as you roll it into a ball, turning around and chucking it at Hoseok’s head. You barely miss his slim face and hit his neck, but still doing damage by getting stuck to his skin. "That's for slapping my ass, asshole."

You miss the way he eyes your leaving figure up and down after wiping the sand off his neck. Oh, he just loved messing with you.

-----

Swimsuits are tight. They curve around one's body perfectly, almost painfully, used for swimming or other water activities. They're actually pretty comfortable, if you do say so yourself, and you take pride in knowing the way your body looks in the bright red one piece of the lifeguard apparel.

But wet swimsuits are a whole 'nother story. Wet swimsuits are the devil themselves. They're sticky and distressing and tight, feeling like hell in spandex form suffocating your body and not letting you get the blood you need. Not to mention they take almost an hour to take off.

"God, can't I just take it off?" You whisper to no one in particular. The pad of your thumb scrolls through Instagram, images of other people's picture-perfect lives on view to the world. Feeling itchy, you continuously adjust your swimsuit, trying to find some relief for the discomfort you currently felt.

Sounds from the door break the much appreciated silent atmosphere you were miraculously blessed with, of course broken by the one and only  Jung Hoseok. "Help me," he quickly says, slamming the door of the hut shut. There's still some sand stuck on his bare upper chest from where you've hit him.

You scoff and look back down to your screen. "Help yourself, Jung. You've clearly been doing that the whole day, anyways." You squeeze your eyes shut as memories from earlier in the day came rushing at you.

The girls approached you right after you walked away from throwing the sand at Hoseok, ignoring the way he screamed your name repetitively. Not only did they waste your time by asking you where Hoseok was, but once you wouldn't let them go up the lifeguard tower, it got into a heated argument and one girl had the audacity to throw you into the fucking water.

She was strong, not gonna lie, but over what? A simple fuck? From the man who probably has a little tic-tac anyways? Oh, how you went off on them.

"They, uh-" Hoseok's voice slightly cracks, and he's talking in a slight panicked way, fast and mumbled. "They sort of attacked me- harassed me."

You look up. "They harassed you? You mean like... harassed harassed or harassed harassed?" He just blinks and shyly points to his trunks.

"Harassed harassed." Your eyes trail down, and the little bulge in Hoseok's pants momentarily shocks you.

"Holy shit, Hoseok."

Eyes wide, he nods. "I know. They fucking went after me once I got down the tower, so I ran here as fast as I could." When his breathing begins to slow, Hoseok moves to stand next to the big wooden table in the center of the room. "God, crazy bitches."

"And you got turned on from that?"

Not from them, he thinks to himself. But he wasn't about to let you know that he was already having his senses heightened after he saw your wet figure in the water.

"Well not exactly. It's kind of, just, you know," he sighs in defeat and shakes his bangs.

"And you want me to help... how?"

Hoseok stares at you, saying nothing. And you realize it.

"No, Hoseok, no way." You click your phone off and set it on the armrest of the wooden chair. "I'm not gonna sleep with you."

He lets out a frustrated groan. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, just help me deal with this!" His hair comes out slightly ruffled after he rakes his hand through it. "I can't walk around with a fucking tent in my shorts around everybody. There's children!"

It takes all your self control and dignity to not look down at his crotch once again, for the outline is becoming more and more visible as the seconds roll on. And you've got to admit, he doesn't look as small as you thought. "Why should I do that? You've basically ruined my whole day by tricking me into getting down from the tower so I had to deal with those psychos. Not to mention, you slapped my ass and one of them threw me in the goddamn water!"

"Okay, well," Hoseok tries to counter argue. "You... threw sand at me." He knew he wasn't convincing anyone with that. "Please ________ just help me. I swear I'll make it up to you."

You think. You actually think about it. Blame it on the fact that the Jung Hoseok is practically begging you for it. An amused idea runs through your mind as you think of all the things you could make Hoseok do for you, all the embarrassment that would come with it, all the revenge you would finally get. Without saying anything, you make eye contact with his desperate form and stand up, walking towards him. His eyes widen.

"Woah, you're actually gonna-"

"Stop talking." You turn the both of you around and push him onto the chair, kneeling down in front of him. Hoseok is so stunned he doesn't even realize he bumped your phone off the armrest and onto the sandy floor. His breath gets stuck in his throat at the sight of you on your knees, ready to take him in your mouth. You run both of your hands up his thighs before slowly outlining his cock lightly with your fingertips.

"Jesus Christ," he breaks underneath your touch. He couldn't believe he was gonna get sucked off by you, the girl who's hated him since they first met. It was unbelievably hot. He sucks in a harsh breath when you squeeze his clothed dick. "Please don't fucking tease me, ______"

His length hardens in your hand when you begin to sensually rub your palm against it. You would be lying if you said that you weren't even the slightest bit turned on. "Patience, Hoseok," you grin. "God, you're so desperate for me, huh?"

A whimper. Jung Hoseok fucking whimpers.

Dominant, cocky Hoseok, just whimpered. For you. And it went straight to your core.

Rubbing your thighs together, you opt for some relief from the tingling you felt. Hoping to distract yourself, you toy with the waistband of his swim trunks for a few seconds before finally pulling them down his thighs.

It was much different than you would've ever imagined. In the past whenever you thought about his dick, which was rarely ever, you obviously knew he was packing some size considering the amount of times he slept around. However, seeing it in person has outdid all of your previous expectations. His dripping cock had length to it, but the thickness was shocking. It was unbelievably thick.

"Fuck," you whisper. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, your fingertips barely able to touch each other. You give it a light squeeze before slowly sliding up.

Hoseok is watching your every move, his hands forming fists by his side to keep him from thrusting himself into your grip. "_____- shit." He leans his head back, clenching his jaw as you spread his precum around his length, making sure to coat every spot with his juice. The sight of his throat bobbing up and down makes your eyes flutter. God, why is he so hot right now.

"Your so naughty, Hoseok." You lightly trail your tongue up his cock, keeping your eyes on him the whole way up. Wrapping your lips around the head, Hoseok whimpers once again when you begin to suck on the swollen tip. He can't hold back anymore and snakes his hand into your hair, pulling at the roots while letting out deep groans.

When you take all of him in one go, he slowly pushes down on your head so that his tip meets the back of your throat. The sound of you quietly gagging sends him into overdrive, his body shaking from the pleasure. You grasp at his thighs, clawing your nails into his skin. "______, please please please, fuck."

Remembering a tip your friend once gave you, you hollow your cheeks and suck, continuously bobbing your head up and down. Obviously, your friend knows what she's doing, basing off of the way Hoseok lets out a loud vocal moan and thrusts wildly into your mouth. You've never seen him like this- so unhinged and in a way almost pathetically desperate. It was turning you on beyond belief.

He's close and it's obvious, sweat dripping down the side of neck, letting out a string of curses and swears as he gets closer to his high.

"Fuck, _____ don't stop, p-please don't stop." His voice sends a rush of warmth to your core, and his other hand releases the grip on the armrest to join the other in pulling your hair. Both of his hands are grabbing at your head, and you move even faster, giving his throbbing cock a couple swirls with your tongue until finally he's squeezing his eyes shut and releasing his seed into your mouth. The warmth in your throat seems to never end, akin to the strings of moans Hoseok lets out. After swallowing, you release his cock with a pop and wipe his cum off of your chin with the back of your hand.

Hoseok tilts his head back and keeps his hands in your hair, wanting to pause for a while for him to catch his breath. "Goddamn, ______." He lets out a breathless laugh.

You smile breathlessly and rub your hands up to his abs, tracing the outline lightly with your fingertips. His eyes darken again as they watch your lips swollen red and with his cum dripping down the sides. He forces himself to loosen his grip on your hair and slowly pulls his hands back.

You grab it before he can fully retreat. He looks at you, confused. A soft laugh escapes your lips.

"You still owe me a favor, shit head.”

#jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #jhope smut #smut #bts smut #hoseok smut #e2l smut #smutty smut smut #idk what other tags to use #lifeguard smut

[demwhore]

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

[rrivlet]

So like, as a Japanese person, I really, deeply dislike the word “oriental” because of its connotations and usage and because Orientalism is a thing. I’ve had to ask people to stop referring to Southeast Asian culture and countries as “oriental,” and more than once I’ve had to tell people that “oriental” is a slur to get them to stop, and I never like doing that. See, it’s not necessarily a slur, but it’s used in such a dismissive way sometimes and it feels derogatory, but it’s just a word that is used as a broad brush so that people don’t have to think about stuff. The same thing happens with people calling things “Asian” without reference to a specific country, but yknow, “Asian” is far from a slur.

It’s a complicated thing, but the bottom line is that words can be bad to use in specific contexts without being a slur. I tend to think of a slur as a word people use diminish and otherize people, turning what they are against them. Oriental, on the other hand, is just a lazy, thoughtless descriptor that lumps all Southeast Asian cultures into one category, ignoring all the nuance and differences amongst these cultures. It’s insulting. It pushes exoticism to the point that the same person will end up fetishizing a Japanese woman while calling her a slur. Using “oriental” or even “Asian” as a broad brush makes it easier for people to other us. In essence, “oriental” isn’t a slur, but it enables an environment for harmful slurs to be used. Same goes for words like “tribal” or “shamanism” etc.

The thing folks can do to avoid this after they’ve identified this kind of language is harmful is to actively learn what specific culture or cultures you’re talking about. Say “Korean” if you’re talking about Korea. Say “Chinese” if you’re talking about China. If you’re talking about multiple cultures, use the names of all the cultures involved, unless you’re talking about the entire region as a whole, and even then use something more specific than “Asian” if possible. East Asia, South Asia, and Southeast Asia are all different regions! And that doesn’t even include all of Asia!

Think of it this way, if you use only the term “Asian” when you’re talking about China, Korea, or Japan, you could just as well be talking about Saudi Arabia, India, Turkey, or even Russia! So how is anyone else supposed to know that if you’re talking about East and Southeast Asian countries specifically?

This is mostly a specific gripe of mine, since I grew up with a lot of people describing my background and even my mannerisms as oriental. Just like, steer clear of the word unless you’re specifically talking about Orientalism or the something else that doesn’t directly refer to a whole diverse group of cultures.

#orientalism #racisim #post of the tributary

[dokoni-mo]

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader

(A/N: Hello all! This is my first post on tumblr and I am so excited to share my fic with all you lovely people!!! I used to write alot, but haven’t in some time. Since I am renewing my love for star wars, I thought that I would do a little something for my favorite man of all time: Vader!!! A big thanks to Kenna for helping to inspire me to write again (you know who you are :))) ). This is chapter one of a series of about 10 chapters I plan to write. Please enjoy and feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!! also, not my gif)

WARNINGS: mentions of a TIE crash, some cursing

Key: (F/N) = first name  (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~3600

Edit: Link to Chapter Two: [x]

Life on the Super Star Destroyer was exactly the same as the ship looked on the outside: cold, dull, and gray. Color? What’s that? Life? Never heard of it. 

No one ever really stopped to mingle with one another, even for a brief, courteous “hello!” or “hey, how’s it going?”. These types of action were seen as unnecessary and not impactful to squashing out the rebellion, as well as to eliminating any sign of hope that one day the Empire will just cease to exist, leaving everyone alone. Everything and everyone had a purpose within the Empire. Everyone had their own job, and heaven forbid that you are somehow unable to do that job. Any failure was seen as weakness, and the Empire had no use for weakness amongst its ranks. These were the fundamental truths of working under the Empire.

Being a mechanic wasn’t so bad. You got to do what you loved to do, so what’s so bad about that? Sure, you had very little contact with the outside world (aside from the occasional news briefing or smuggled-in holovid), you had very few acquaintances, and you were always just referred to as last name only, but all of these could be overlooked. You wake up, put on your drab, gray-green uniform, go to work, then go back to your quarters, rinse and repeat every day of every week. A nice little routine for your nice little job on the nice little imperial vessel. 

To say you blended in with the crowd was wrong. Everyone blended in with the crowd, so to say you blended in with the crowd was diagnosing yourself with special-snowflake syndrome. There was no individuality within the Empire. There was only the Empire, the usage of names only a formality or a way to get one’s attention. Despite this, due to human nature, those serving would often try to attempt some sort of individuality. Female officers would have a signature way of pulling back their hair, troopers would talk in different made-up accents, and some even gave themselves tattoos. You, however, found your individuality within your work. 

When fixing something, you would often put  your own spin on how you bring said thing back to its former glory. Fixing a speederbike? Lets rewire the wires so that they make a nice, pretty zig-zag pattern. This will help it steer a bit better, anyway. Fixing a blaster with a faulty trigger? Why not add a new cooling system just to be nice. Fixing a TIE? Oh boy, the possibilities are endless. 

This may be what has allowed you to rise through the ranks so quickly as a mechanic. There was seemingly nothing that you couldn’t inflict your midas touch upon. Plop anything down on your workbench and it's a guarantee that it will be fixed. 

On the other hand, it may just be dumb luck. This is ultimately what you thought. You were just merely doing your job, trying to not cause any trouble for yourself, just like everyone else you worked with. It just so happened to be you that the Empire had noticed. 

It was this attention that landed you this new assignment.The news had come suddenly and almost unexpectedly. Pack your bags, (F/N), you're out of the Endor research station and now on a one-way ticket to the Super Star Destroyer. Of course, there was no one around to pat you on the back when you got the news, and certainly no one to say congratulations. You did that yourself that night by treating yourself to an extra ration. 

If you were anyone else within the Empirical army, you would be over the moon about working on this ship. But, you felt no emotion towards the subject. It was just another job, what’s so special about it?

You quickly learned the answer to that. 

Him. 

He made the entire aura of the ship much tenser than any other research station or star destroyer that you had ever been on. People were not kidding when they said that his entire presence dripped with authority and power. To defy him, was to defy the Empire. To fail him, was to fail the Empire. It also always meant a loss of your life by the point of his saber. 

You remember the first time that you saw him with your own eyes, not just an image from a news briefing or the picture you formed in your head when you heard the stories. You were lined up along with all of your new fellow troopers, officers, and mechanics, your hands firmly by your sides and your chin held up high, your eyes the only part allowed to move. He had been returning from some sort of escapade, and it was time for another customary formal greeting for him.

He was hard to miss when the door to the shuttle had touched the cold, hard ground. Everything about him was massive, intimidating. Dressed head to toe in black, his frame resembling a man but his features that of a droid. Despite the layers upon layers of armor and clothing, you could tell his muscles were nothing to bat an eye at. His shoulderspan looked like it could be twice your own, and his hands look like they could wrap around your waist and crush you in to a million tiny pieces at any second. Hot. 

As he walked past you, you could feel the floor vibrate with menacing trembles as he took each step. His breathing was enrapturing, filling up your ears like it was there to live rent-free. When he finally spoke (a simple “Good, admiral”), you could feel the bass right in the middle of  your chest. His voice was encapsulating, surrounding you with it's deep, authoritative, encompassing demeanor. Even hotter. 

Yes, Darth Vader was quite the interesting character. But, he was not the one, you had decided, to try and become buddy-buddy with. Far too risky. Instead, you would carry on as normal: do your job, and don’t get in anyone’s way. You have done this for years, and a change of scenery with a far more intimidating boss wouldn't change that. 

Except when it did. 

The day (you believed that it was day, at least. It was hard to keep track of time in the middle of space on a giant floating mouse cursor) was as simple as ever. You woke up, ate your breakfast rations, then went straight to work. They had you fixing a few blasters and comms that day. How exciting. 

You almost didn't hear the sound of the sirens when they went off, nor how the room suddenly was flashing red. When you had finally came-to, the sound of a highly distressed officer was over the hangar’s comm system. 

“Everyone clear the bridge now! Lord Vader is coming in hot!”

Coming in hot? You wondered what that had meant. Of course, you knew what that meant, but this was Lord Vader we were talking about. He was the best pilot in the whole Empirical fleet. He never crashed, you had thought. 

Despite your judgement, you put down your tools and started to run along with the other mechanics. They seemed just as confused as you were, awkwardly trying to shuffle out of their stations into somewhere safe. Quietly slipping past the small crowd, you found refuge on the other side of the doorway you were in, finding a place to watch within one of the windows. 

Looking up to the stars that made up the tail-end wall of your workplace, you were almost shocked to see that the officer over the comm wasn’t hallucinating. Lord Vader’s TIE was, indeed, coming in hot. A noticeable plumage of smoke followed in his wake, as well as the occasional burst of sparks and the odd chunk of metal falling off. The noise that TIE made when it passed through the barrier was unholy, making you wince right before you had jumped in your polished boots. Lord Vader’s TIE crashed right on the floor of your workspace, skidding along and spinning not before crashing into several unfinished projects and stopping just before the doorway you had been standing in.  

Oh, maker. He’s dead. 

That was your only thought as the smoke and dust around the TIE settled in the air. The smoke was occasionally illuminated by the sparks coming out of the ship. This was definitely not a pretty scene. That TIE was busted. 

A twinge of some sort of odd emotion rippled through you as you saw the tip of a red stream of light pierced through the metal of the broken TIE. It made a large circle motion before shrinking back inside. Moments later, the circle had been thrown off, flying past the group of mechanics that had begun to shuffle awkwardly back into the hangar to inspect the scene for themselves. You had joined them as the circle was discarded off of the TIE, the wind making a strand of your hair raise. 

He stepped out of the burning pile of metal mess moments later. A small amount of smoke radiated off of his body as his boots collided with the ground. His shoulders were raised, his left fist in a ball as his right held on firmly to his weapon. He offered no one any explanation as he marched his way to the medical bay, an air of contempt and loathing following him. 

They had let you off to lunch early that day. The smoke from the TIE could be toxic, and they needed some time to clear out the hangar before everyone could get back to work. 

You ate your ration in silence as everyone around you murmured their theories and rumors about the incident that had occurred about an hour earlier. There was no need to speculate, in your eyes, and the only people you talked with were out on some other assignment. Silence kept you company, anyhow. 

Your peaceful lunch, however, was eventually rudely interrupted by some rude, old geezer. His uniform adorned many different patches and pins, so you figured he had to be some sort of presiding, know-it-all, experienced officer. The lines in his face only made him look more stern and stuck up than he sounded, his lips pursed as he eyed the datapad he held whilst he stood in front of your lunch table. 

“(L/N), I presume, yes? Our newest mechanic from Endor?” the old man questioned, his dark eyes flicking back and forth between you and your glowing blue picture. 

“Yes, sir. That’s me.” you responded, sitting up to offer some sort of respect to the officer. 

The old man turned off his datapad with that, folding his arms behind his back as he addressed you fully. “Well, Miss (L/N), I do hope that your current assignment holds no sentimental value to you. You are being reassigned with a very important alternative, effective immediately.” 

“Immediately?” you questioned, “I apologize sir, I don’t quite-”

“Your new assignment, Miss (L/N), is to repair Lord Vader’s TIE. I assume you bore witness to his entrance earlier today.” said the old officer, cutting you off. “Lord Vader’s ship is of utmost importance to the Empire, and we only assign our best to repair it when needed. We have already removed your previous assignment from your station and place Lord Vader’s TIE in its place.” 

Before you could get another word out, the officer turned on his heel to leave, only giving you a side glance over his shoulder as he continued, “You should be pleased, Miss (L/N). You just became one of our finest mechanics.” 

~~~

You only saw a heaping pile of garbage that was vaguely shaped like a TIE Advanced x1 at your station when you returned. The ship was mangled beyond repair. Aside from the gaping hole in the center of the fighter, the wings were gnashed beyond recognition, many of the metal plates lining the surface either gone or melted, the wires that snaked along the inside of the craft were now on the outside, and it still hadn’t stopped smoking completely. 

You couldn't hide your expression as you walked around the TIE. Why the hell would you even try and repair this hunk of shit? you thought to yourself, Just get a new TIE, I’m sure the Empire can afford it. 

You contemplated on going back and finding that old man that gave you the assignment and asking him to repeat it back to you. Whoever wanted this thing repaired was a madman at best. Sighing, you reminded yourself of your virtues. Do your job, don’t get in the way. And, this was your new job. 

You had no idea on where to start. 

~~~

It was long past quitting hours when you heard the doors to the hangar open. 

You were perched on top of the broken down TIE, your jacket long since discarded. You were left only in your boots, pants, tanktop, and goggles as you heard heavy footsteps draw closer to your station. 

You paused briefly from your welding to listen to the footsteps for a brief moment. You pondered for a short time on whether or not to address the person walking towards you, but decided against it. You figured that they were just some trooper or other mechanic sneaking out for a midnight walk or snack. Although you were loyal to the Empire, you were no snitch to your fellow troop. You resumed your welding after your judgement had ended. 

You continued to listen, however, and noticed how the footsteps had ended very close to your station. Listening past the sound of your welding, your heart almost jumped out your throat and hitched a ride to the outer-rim when you noticed an all-too-familiar sound. 

That breathing. 

To make sure that your ears were not playing tricks on you, you stopped your welding and peeked over the top of the TIE. Sure enough, there he was, staring up at you without a word, without even moving one muscle. Your blood ran cold. 

“L-Lord Vader!” You called down as you scurried to put down your tools, pushing your goggles up to rest on your sweat-gleamed forehead. You landed on the ground with a thunk as you slid down the TIE, hurriedly walking over to address the Dark Lord properly. 

Standing so close to him forced you to notice the height and size difference between the two of you. He was tall, so tall that you had to almost crane your neck to look him in the eyes of his mask. His frame dwarfed yours in every way, making you feel so, so small and weak compared to him. As the sith looked down at you, you couldn't help but feel his real eyes behind the mask bare into you, almost as if he were looking right into the fiber of your being. You swallowed thickly but silently, forgetting that you were out of uniform in front of the Emperor's right hand. 

“I-I apologize, my Lord, I did not hear you come in over the sound-” 

“Is it not past active hours for your department, mechanic?” He interjected, interrogating you. You felt your cheeks gain a touch of rouge out of embarrassment. You had barely even noticed that it was so late, that almost all of the lights in the hangar had gone dim. 

“Yes, my Lord, it is. But, I had-”

“You need not explain yourself to me, mechanic. I have come here for a report on the damage to my ship. If you will so generously supply me with that, perhaps I will overlook your discrepancies tonight.” He said to you, his head tilting to the side. The eyes of his helmet never left your frame as he spoke to you. His authority made a shiver run down your spine, your breath hitch. He could kill you at any moment's notice, and you both knew that. 

“Yes. Yes, of course, my Lord.” You responded quietly. It was then you finally dared to let your gaze fall off of the menacing, tall figure before you. Turning on your heel, you looked up at the broken down craft before you, pressing a hand against the cool metal. “Well, my Lord, I will not dare lie to you. This fighter is in real bad shape. Her left wing is almost completely non-existent, her guns are unrecognizable, and her central computer has been totally fried. Her engine received a great amount of damage as well, and it looks like all of her spark igniters and thrusters will need to be replaced. This is all, of course, not to mention the damage to her framework.” 

You had circled around the TIE absentmindedly as you spoke, your hand gliding over the jagged surface of the craft. Vader’s gaze followed your diminutive frame as you paced about. You could feel the eyes of his mask follow you with every footstep. Were it not for the continuous babbling on about damages, you would be shitting a brick right about now. 

“And how do you plan to proceed with these repairs, mechanic?” He asked you, a hint of his temper and curiosity poking through. 

“Well,” you retorted, looking at him once more, right in the face, “In order to proceed with anything, I have to get the central computer back online and running. That way, I will be able to talk to her better, and maybe even run a diagnostic for any damages that I haven’t caught yet. After that will be the repairs to the wing, which I will likely have to build from scratch from other scrapped TIEs. Once that is complete, repairs to the frame will begin, then onto the guns and engine. This may change, however, if I am able to run that diagnostic, my lord.” 

The way you held yourself in front of the sith lord was certainly a pleasant surprise. Lord Vader was used to his subordinates making a vain attempt to make the situation sound better to him so that he would be pleased. You, however, did not shy away from cutting to the chase and telling Vader how it was. He felt a twinge of appreciation bubble deep, deep down inside him. He always did value someone who truly knew their way around a ship or two. 

Vader took a glance at the mess of his TIE Advanced then back to you before he spoke again. You had refused to take your eyes off him again. 

“I understand,” he rumbled out, placing his large hands on their respective sides of his belt, “I presume that these repairs will take a small while.” 

His words were spoken as a statement, but you knew he was asking. 

“Yes, Lord Vader,” you said, nodding in affirmation, “They indeed will, but I will do all in my power to have her running again just like new.” You couldn't help but flash a small, quick smile at the end of your positivity. 

Vader stared down at you for a brief moment before speaking again, the sound of his steady breath winding around you once again. 

“Good,” he finally said, “I expect no less from you, mechanic. I will come here again periodically, and I expect a full report of progress for each of my visitations. Do I make myself clear? Do not fail me.” 

“Of course, my Lord. I will do exactly as you wish” you replied, giving him a firm nod as you stood at attention. Quickly, you relaxed your pose, letting your gaze fall once more and your body to turn to resume your work. 

Vader, however, stood completely still. He was not done with you quite yet. 

“Your name.” Vader said flatly, with a hint of demand. 

This sent a jolt through you. You shot your gaze back to the sith, your hand gently clutching one of your tools, applying just enough strength to keep it from falling. 

“P-pardon, my Lord?” 

“Your name, mechanic. I wish to know your name.”

You licked your bottom lip hurriedly. You prayed that he couldn't notice your cheeks tint pink. 

“It's (L/N), my Lord-”

“I know that, Miss (L/N). I wish to know your full name. Do not make me ask again.” 

You almost burst out laughing. He had to be joking. This was the first time in years that someone had asked you for your first name. You were surprised that you even still remembered it. 

“It’s… It’s (F/N), my Lord. (F/N) (L/N).” 

Another pause from him, along with another long staring contest between the two of you. Was his breathing always this loud?

After an eternity, he spoke once more, “I have full faith in you, Miss (F/N) (L/N). It is not everyday I have the privilege to converse with one of your skill level and courage.”

With that, he was done. He stepped to the right, turned, and walked to the door, leaving without another look or word. You stared at the door for a long moment before looking at the floor, replaying the past events in your head, letting his words plague your mind over and over like a broken record. 

Was that a compliment?

No, of course not, you had convinced a majority of  yourself. 

With a sigh, you climbed back up to the top of the broken TIE, seated on your perch again. You adorned your goggles once more, telling yourself just a little more before you retired for the night. 

Little did you know, this was only the first interesting night of many to come. 

#star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction

[broadwayandnetflix]

Pick Me Up - Bill Hader x Reader

Theme: Fluff, with some Angst

Warnings: Language, Use of Alcohol

Summary: Bill wakes up in the early hours of the morning with a request to pick up a rather drunken you.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I started this ages ago, I still really dig some of my word usage in this fic. Once again, Maggie Carey and Bill will not be married in this fic. Thanks for dealing with my sporadic fic posting.

It was just supposed to be one drink. Even if you could remember that rule, you were pissed off and needed to forget everything for a while. Just enough for the alcohol to slip into your system and make you feel somewhat fixed for the night.

Except one drink became two, and three, and soon five. I think it’s important to note that you were an incredible lightweight when handling alcohol.

Usually, you’d have a friend by your side, but this bar wasn’t that far of a walk from your apartment. It would almost be quite the resource, but you rarely tended to turn to drink.

Except that is, until you found out that your boyfriend of five years cheated on you. You were crushed, obviously, but you had almost seen this coming. Or maybe you didn’t; it just didn’t seem impossible for him to pull this act on you.

After booking a job as a cast member on the thirty-eighth season of Saturday Night Live, you often found yourself becoming busier than you had ever been. You would frequently come home late and not have enough time for your partner as you had imagined.

Except, Justin had been so understanding. Why wouldn’t he? He was a surgeon at Lenox Hill and would always take night shifts to keep things afloat.

He was charming, kind, and always knew how to surprise you. You could still picture your future wedding and marriage so vividly; he was the man of your dreams, but was he really?

He probably wasn’t when you had found him fucking a random girl senseless in your shared bedroom. That’s beside the point, everything felt floaty and fuzzy, and the bartender looked concerned.

“Want me to call someone for you?” she suggested as she leaned against the counter. One hand flipping a pen, the other sneaking up to the phone beside her on the wall.

Justi-no, just no, you stopped yourself quickly.

You swallowed carefully, looking at her with an emotion swirling within you that you couldn’t quite place. She cocked an eyebrow, just waiting for your answer to flop into her fingertips.

“His name is, um, he’s a friend. Just a friend, yeah, sure. Okay, hmph. His number is-,”

—

He had just gotten to bed finally, or so he had thought, almost perfecting not focusing on the way his breathing was lulling him to sleep. It was way too late for this anyway; he would definitely make a pick me up at the local joe’s the next morning.

That was until he heard a faint buzzing come from his bedside table; he rubbed his eyes with annoyance. At this hour, who the hell was disrupting him was his first thought, that was until he saw an odd number.

Seth had always told him not to accept calls like these, but something didn’t sit right. Hopefully, he was wrong; it could very well be someone ‘butt-dialing’ him.

“Hello?” damn, he sounded gruff, was this new?

“Hi, I’m here with Y/N; she’s currently here with me at April’s Brewery on 16 W 51st street. It’s getting rather late, and we are closing up soon. She said I should call you, Bill, right?” she confirmed, the information twisting around in his drowsy mind.

“Oh, um, yeah, I am. Is Y/N, okay? I mean, yeah, I’m coming as soon as possible.” he stammered, hanging up before she could even speak, rushing out the door, and calling forth a taxicab.

Why did Y/N pick him of all people? He was him, and you were well you! He didn’t even think you were even that close, well, maybe you were. Things between you and him were pretty nice; you could make him laugh like no other. You made his days better, even if it was with something small and not that big in retrospect.

Except then again, wasn’t this Jus-whoever’s job? Your boyfriend’s job to pick you up? Why were you even drinking in the first place? He had many questions.

The cab pulled to a halt, and he paid the necessary change. Giving the driver a tight-lipped smile, he hopped out and made his way into the destination he was given.

The bar looked reasonably deserted at this point. Still, there you sat looking absolutely crushed, or what appeared that way, nursing what seemed to be a glass of something that didn’t quite look like water. Lost in some conversation with the women who he assumed had called him, her eyes catching him in what looked to be a sense of relief.

She had whispered something to you, but instantly you poked your head up. Immediately locking eyes with him, you pulled yourself up, an excited grin dashing upon your lips.

“You came, oh Billy!” you squealed, rushing over to him before slipping, his arms rushing over to hold you up.

Billy? he thought with much amusement and, of course, concern.

“Woah Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this...” he drew on his words, your head tilting in confusion. 

“I’ve never seen you this drunk,” he admitted finally only to have you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Billy, you are so fucking funny. Do you know that? You make me laugh so much, like a crazy amount. God, you are so cute!” His eyes widened. Were you cheating? No, no, he couldn’t do this.

“Y/N, sweetie.” he began while sliding the bartender a couple twenties, leading you out the door. Steering the two of you to a nearby pocket of space between the bar and a convenience store.

“You have a boyfriend, I sincerely hope you didn’t forget,” he stated only to see you deflate at the thought.

“No, not anymore, or at least I don’t think so.” you cried the tears coming down faster than he could’ve imagined.

Wait, really? He sure as hell didn’t see this coming; you two had been together for what had appeared to be a long time. Judging by your conversations at work, things seemed to be fine between you two, rusty, but okay.

You shifted your feet, looking anywhere but him, he gulped, taking hold of your quivering hands that tugged at each finger anxiously. Eyes widening, you looked up at him, something settling in your eyes that he couldn’t quite process.

He smiled softly, lifting up his thumb to wipe away your tear stained cheeks. That’s what friends did, right? You sniffed, pulling back a little farther.

“I don’t think I can go back home tonight; Justin cheated on me with someone from his work.” you huffed, feeling everything come back at full swing.

“Oh Y/N/N, come here,” he whispered, beckoning you into his arms. It absolutely crushed him to see you so....broken.

Slowly but surely, you fell into his arms and sobbed quietly. His hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back, whispering sweet nothings to you. Anything to help, god, he hoped he was helping.

“God, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” you choked out after a while, clearing your throat and pulling away from him.

His eyes darting between yours and the way your hands twitched anxiously. The sky now a deep violet speckled in navy clouds, stars peeking out from the city fog to illuminate your surroundings. The neon lights of the convenience store sitting behind you showing just how late it was. The way it hit you all at once, lighting up the way your cheeks were stained from your tears.

He had never really had a chance to tell you how beautiful you were. It wasn’t even like he was trying to start trouble; you just were.

Whether it was in weekly meetings, bright and early, the buzz of the day settling into the cast. He’d notice it, the way your lips curved into that gorgeous grin you always seemed to carry on you. The way you did your hair, how it complimented your features so effortlessly. How your eyes would filter in appreciation of everyone in the room, how you’d stop shortly at his. The crinkle in your eyes, a smile beaming at him, offering a little wink.

Mornings with you were never dull, or at least that’s what he thought. He always knew you were out of his reach, so his heart stayed far from him, like a buoy sinking up and back down into the waves of his consciousness, always there but never willing to commit.

Even now, in your current state, he was in awe of your beauty. Yet, it wasn’t polite to stare, and he had to make sure that you’d get some sleep and a cup of water and painkillers by your side the next morning.

“I have a spare bedroom. Honestly, it’s way too late, and I don’t mind it.” Bill gestured, trying to focus on any signs of protest that could erupt from you.

“O-okay,” you whispered in agreement, rubbing your eyes as fatigue started to settle in. A motion that Bill definitely didn’t miss while he looked you up and down.

He gave a toothy grin before motioning you to follow him, standing before the bustling streets of Manhattan. Even at night, cars buzzed and honked past at moderate speeds. His hand outstretched to catch the attention of taxis, one hand reaching out to take ahold of yours.

It felt nice when he touched your little hands slip into his somewhat larger grasp; it felt normal almost. God, he was such a freak, you just got cheated on. You were just friends, nothing else. Get it together, Hader.

A car pulled close to the curb, and within seconds the two of you settled in. He gave the address and buckled in. You looked rather comfy with your face smudged against the cab window.

He smiled softly, as slowly but surely, you fell asleep. The city blurring around the two of you, bright lights and street signs becoming one. He always admired New York City at night, the way it never really stopped moving. Despite the early hours of the morning, people still bustled amongst the streets.

It was still fairly early into his departure of Saturday Night Live; his face was familiar, but not quite famous like his other costars. He could walk the streets with ease and get stopped only a few times. He didn’t know how long it’d last, but he enjoyed the sense of invisibility he carried.

You, however, were admired by many. Bill could remember your first few days on set, those who were not married or dating setting bets on you. Hader often scoffed at the idea of winning your heart amongst his coworkers, you were a constellation, and he was light-years away. That is until you mentioned that you were dating some doctor, and the competition died down.

Yet every now and then, his stomach would grow a flutter, and his cheeks would blush when you’d lay your head on his shoulder, a familiar friendly feat you’d perform after long hours in 30 Rock. He hated that he crushed someone who was taken; he never once stopped hating himself for that.

The car halted to a stop, Hader’s apartment complex sitting right outside. He eyed the cash monitor for the second time that night. In an instant, he paid the acceptable amount, tipping the driver for good measure. Almost standing up before remembering how you had fallen asleep against the window.

He huffed anxiously, wondering how on earth he would do this. The driver was obviously tired and not pleased with the hold-up between his departure towards his own comfy mattress. Grabbing his stuff, he slipped out of his side before going around to opening your door.

Your figure slumping towards the pavement before he scooped you up in his arms. Internally cursing himself if you were to wake up, and want him to rid you of himself at once. Instead, you peeked one eye open, his body heaving anxiously. Y/E/C peeking up at him in dazed confusion, before murmuring something and nuzzling deeper into his hold.

It was a skill that he hadn’t perfected, getting someone into his house, without making much noise. Not to mention the fact that you were asleep in his arms, chest rising in perfect rhythm. He nudged the cab door closed and made his way up to his apartment door. Victoriously managing to slide his hand out from underneath you and into opening his front door.

Slipping into the building, he quietly kicked the door closed behind him. You only stirred, which promptly stopped him dead in his tracks, before continuing on towards the spare bedroom he owned.

Gently he laid you down onto the bed, your body curling up at the contact of the comfortable mattress. He smiled before digging around to place a blanket over you, fitting it, so you were well adjusted to sleeping.

His heart heavy and mind slowly beginning to beg for sleep, his feet padding towards the door of the guest bedroom. That is until he heard a rustle and a soft murmur escape your lips.

“What was that, Y/N? Did you say something?” he wondered aloud, his eyes trying to adjust towards the room now blanketed in darkness.

“It’s-just, I’m not used to sleeping alone anymore, you know? I’m so tired, though, could you stay until I fall asleep?” you admitted softly, playing with the sheet covers on top of you.

Bill’s eyes widened into the size of saucers; he didn’t see this coming. He shook his head before quickly nodding in your direction; you yawned without much thought and laid back, dozing off.

He stood there absolutely puzzled on what to do, except stare, which was definitely not inappropriate whatsoever. His eyes darting anywhere in the room, but you, he focused on an old rocking chair that his mother gave him when he first moved in.

It looked comfy enough. It would do, if that’s what you wanted, that’s what a friend would do. God, he hoped that’s what a friend would do in this case scenario.

The chair creaked noisily, and he cringed every single time until you stirred once again, thrusting your hand upward into the air. He sat puzzledly until your finger flicked up and down to signal him to join you.

He gulped, “please, Bill, just for tonight?” you said with a slight whimper.

Timidly he shoved the covers outward to create space, sliding into the bed, stiff as aboard. You couldn’t help but murmur something sleepily before rolling over beside him.

He froze, but he couldn’t stay awake forever. Your head now resting upon his chest, curling into his side, you smelled nice. He let you stay put before trying to get situated himself, sleep soon beginning to overtake him.

Friends totally did this, yep, of course, they did, Bill.

#@broadwayandnetflix #bill hader x reader #bill hader #fluff #bill hader x you #angst #alcohol #2020 #bill hader imagine #snl

[tobesensation-9]

Heyyy, could I please request a badboy! Hwiyoung smut and the plot of basically whatever you want it to be?? Sorry that I don't exactly have a plot in mind but I've been craving bad boy Hwi for a while now ☺️

I feel like he tries sooooo hard to radiate this energy! He does when he’s in music videos and photoshoots, but we all know he’s a softy lol.

“I’m Not a Dick, Just Confident” (Hwiyoung x Reader)

Genre: Smut

Synopsis: Bad boy Hwiyoung is a acquaintance of yours in college. He’s a jerk and he knows it but doesn't give a shit. Because even though you call him that, he knows you want him. But unlike you, he’s not afraid to show that he wants you too.

Warnings: Partying with underage drinking and drug usage. Usual college stuff lol (but I don’t condone for those who are under age and/or not responsible ☝🏽.) And and oral sex, female receiving. 

Amongst your friends you were the daredevil at parties. You weren’t afraid to do dares that were wild and crazy when playing truth or dare. You also were the first if not the only one drinking amongst your friends. They knew if you were going out and there was gonna be alcohol, that you were gonna have your fun and not hold back. But after one night when you got a little too emotional after drinking your fifth cup of jungle juice, you pledged to take it easy on your drinking.

“We’re gonna hold you accountable on your pledge y/n.” Says your friend Lindsey as the four of you approach the booming house with college students walking in, out, and loitering around with cups in hand. 

“Yeah I can't keep giving you piggyback rides whenever you get drunk. I'm gonna have a bad back like an old man soon,” says Chanhee as he puts his hand on his back acting as if he's currently in pain. 

“We haven't been to a party all semester. So you can stop acting like your back still hurts.” 

“I’m surprised your back was the only thing that hurt drunk y/n to 10 times as blunt. She’s damaged my pride already when sober. You’re even more brutal then,” Taeyang shudders at the thought of you telling him things that you don't even remember. 

“I would apologise but you know....I was drunk.” 

“Yeah, yeah I know.” 

“Are you guys ready?” Lindsey looks back at the three of you before opening the door. 

“Yes! Let’s go slow-poke,” you push passed her and open the door yourself. 

As you’d hoped, it was the fun chaos you loved. There was dancing, making out, and little circles of people playing stupid little games. You needed a break from all the stresses of college work. This was what you yearned for. 

“Hey guys!” 

You turn to your right and see your upper classman Seokwoo approaching you. In your first semester you had the biggest crush on him and would ask him for help all the time in a Sociology class you had together. You’d been friends with I'm since, your crush eventually dying down as time when by. 

“Hey! Where should we go? What area is the most fun?” 

“Oh just follow me to one of the circles and you'll see for yourself.” 

The four of you follow your upper classman to a circle and your heart immediately picks up its pace. Youngkyun and his best friends Sanghyuk and Youngbin sit with him amongst the circle with other people you've recognised from being around campus. 

“Youngkyun hasn't taken a shot yet and we’ve been playing for a while now, having done every dare.” Your upper class was really smart but he did like to enjoy stuff like this, not participate just watch. 

Seeing him you didn't know what to do. You didn't like him, yet the way his white t-shirt looked so tight on him as you caught yourself starting, made you want to claw his clothes off. 

You’ve only had a few exchanges with him and they weren't good. It consisted of him being a jerk and not being considerate of you either walking and not holding the door or bumping into and you not saying the nicest things to him. But he never said anything to you, he just laughed and called you cute and feisty and that he liked feisty, whatever that meant. 

“Oh feisty’s here?” 

Looking away from his defined you look up to see Youngkyun noticing you and your cute outfit. You came to the party looking hot knowing you’d catch a few peoples eyes, but you didn't think his would be one of them. 

“It’s not feisty, its y/n.” 

“Oh?” He raises his hands up in surrender. “That’s cute, just like you. But I like feisty better thanks.” 

You roll your eyes and say something else before Chanhee moves up and speaks, “Let us join you guys if you don’t mind.” 

“If feisty is your friend, then sure,” Youngkyun smirks at you and sits back down on the couch he had been sitting on. 

“You guys wanna play spin the bottle now? Since we have more people,” Sanghyuk grabs an empty vodka bottle and places it on the ground.

“We play it like truth or dare too. Just who ever spins it has to ask the person it lands on, and oh, no truths, unless its a juicy question,” Youngbin looks at you guys to see if you have any questions. His red hair is similar to the burning feeling his look gives. 

“Yeah, we get it” Chanhee turns to the rest of us to make sure we’re on board. Lindsay and Taeyang nod in agreement and now all of them are looking at you. “Y/n, are you okay with this? I’m surprised you didn't already say yes,” Taeyang looks at you in concern. 

Your friends were always down to have some stupid fun, but they always made sure that everyone was comfortable doing so. You glance over at Youngkyun who already had his eyes on you his smirk fading as he sees you making up your mind, before looking back to your friends. “Okay cool. But if that guy does or says any shit out of line, I’m fighting.” 

Lindsay scoffs, “Y/n stop acting like you have the hots for him, you wanna fuck him all three of us know it. And he’s not hiding the fact that he wants you too. Maybe you could some if you play?” “Lindsay shut up, and no I-I don’t.” You move to sit down closer to them, with the three of them moving closer to you, Lindsay whispers in your ear as Youngkyun perks up at you guys finally ready to play. “You wanna fuck him, it’s okay we already know. You dont have to deny it.” 

You start the game off safe with Chanhee doing most of the work, asking people juicy truths that make them flustered. Chanhee knows a lot about the talk of the school, so it was only natural. You aren't involved in the game at all until Chanhee spins the bottle again and it lands on Youngkyun. He looks up from looking at the bottle and smirks at Chanhee. “What juicy question do have for me? Don’t go easy on me. I can take it.” Chanhee tries to suffice a smile and looks at you, then to Lindsay and Taeyang. “Sorry I have to know y/n. I’m curious.”

 “What are you-” “Out of all people here, who would be the one sleep with more than once? We all know you've slept with everyone here, so who’d you screw twice?” He smiles then gradually starts to laugh out loud. “Oh, I see why people like you. Chanhee isn't it?” “Yeah. Now who would it be?” He looks down at his shoes then back up at Chanhee. “I actually haven't slept with everyone here. But there is someone I wouldn't mind constantly sleeping with..” he trails off and he turns to you. Your friends turn to each other bursting into laughter.

 Some other girls playing along look at you and disgust. Some of his fangirls you assumed. The games then continues, you feeling nervous yet excited at the same time. The bottle never landed on you, nor did anyone choose you for a dare. Which was odd because people always did. You thought the other people stirred clear because of Youngkyun’s response to Chanhee. Youngkyun spins the bottle super fast, having everyone looking and waiting in anticipation. The bottle then stops in-between you and Lindsay. Right when it stops Lindsay pulls you closer to her so that bottle is pointed directly at you. 

“Let me go!” “You’ll thank me later,” she whispers before letting you go. “Now everyone would've gone now” Sanghyuk looks down at the bottle then at you and smirks. The way Youngkyun is looking at you, you can tell he wants to eat you alive, and does nothing else but turn you on. “15 minutes in heaven ‘Feisty’?” Before you could answer he gets and grabs your hand and takes you up to a bedroom. 

All of your friends “Oooooo” as you walk away. Lindsay mimics a phone with her hands, signaling you to call her when you’re done. In an empty bedroom you assume is his you pulls you in. You hadn't noticed but Rowoon had followed you two, you assumed to close the door. Before he does he winks at you, “Let me know when your done, you still have my number. Have fun.” He then closes and locks the door. 

“Timer is set!” you hear him yell and hear his voice fade away. “You look scared “Feisty’” you turn to the hot guy behind you sitting on the bed. “I’m not, just surprised.” “You know I've been praying the bottle landed on you all night?” “Ah..really?” You continue to stand near the door, fidgeting your hands. “You don’t have to be so nervous,” he says as he looks at your hands. 

“I-I’m not.” You pul your hands behind your back. He gets off the bed and slowly walks toward you. “I noticed the way you looked at me when you first arrived. You want me and I want you too, but I won't do anything unless you say so ‘Feisty’”. He's standing a foot away from you now, you didn’t realise it but you were up against the door now. You’ve fantasised doing any and everything with him, but now that he was yours to have, you were too nervous to even saying anything.“You want me right y/n?” Hearing the sound of your name coming from him made you weak. 

Before you even noticed you were nodding and were wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily. Caught off guard himself he looks down at you, eyes wide before coming back to reality and putting his hands on your waist. The more the two of you kiss, the more caressing and moans are made. 

At one point he reaches his to squeeze your ass. The mewls a moan out of you and he moans back in return. You didn't know but just like you, he’s been thinking of doing anything and everything to you too. 

Soon he walks the two of you back to the bed. Once your on the bed you start to practically claw off his leather jacket. “Your so eager baby.” “I thought I was ‘Feisty?’” Help me take this shit off.”

He doesn't say anything else and does what you say, the two of you stripping each other in a heated rush. Once the two of you are naked he lays you back and delves into you heat. The flicking of his tongue and the gentle sucking of his lips on your clit were making you moan him a melody.  

“That feel good?” 

“Ahh yeah. Just like that.” 

He keeps up the same steady rhythm and you come close to cumming. “Youngkyun, wait, I don’t wanna cum yet.” 

He stills and lifts his head. “We don't you cumming just yet. I wanna feel you around me first.” 

He moves to the bedside table and opens the one draw it has to pull out a condom. He stops and hesitates when he moves back on the bed. “You me to fuck you right?” 

You look up a him in confusion. “I wouldn't have charged at you like that if I didn't want you fuck me.” 

He looks up and smirks, but something about him wasn't right. 

“I bet you don’t do this to other girls, asking them multiple times if they’re sure about this.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” 

“Then what's the problem?” 

He looks up at you and looks like he’s about to say something else when the two of you hear a knock on the door. 

“Shit. I forgot we were playing 15 minutes in heaven,” he says as he hands you your clothes to hurry and dress yourself. He throws back on his white t-shirt and blue jeans before opening the door a bit to not show you getting dressed. 

“You guys okay in there?” 

You hear Chanhee peeping in. “Yeah I know everyone forgot about you guys. They seemed have gotten bored once you left,” You hear Taeyang ask. 

“No we’re good. Perfect.” 

“Why aren't you opening the door?” You hear Lindsay question as she pushes passed Youngkyun and sees you just finishing up straightening your clothes. 

“We’re fine guys. Youngkyun told you the truth.”

“Did we interrupt something?” Chanhee looks at you smirking. 

“What do you think. You guys knew the two of us screw around already why are you asking that?” 

You’ve gotten a little annoyed at your friends tonight, but Chanhee was the reason you ended up getting the best of your life. 

“I think we should enjoy the rest of the party. We’ll join you guys in a sec,” Youngkyun says to your friends a looks back at you. Your three friends give you a thumbs up before leaving the room. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“I think for the first time ever, I’m hesitant in fucking someone.” 

“Whoo hoo that's great. You want like a cookie or something?”

He snickers at your sarcastic remark. “I’m saying that I dont want to. Because trust me,” he motions to his boner prominent through his jeans, “I do. I just want to enjoy the party with you more.”

“Okay.” He smiles at you and you smile back. “I will admit, I always thought you were kinda of a dick.” 

“I’m not a dick ‘Feisty’, just confident. There’s a difference.” 

#sf9 #sf9 smut #Youngbin #Inseong #Jaeyoon #Dawon #Zuho #Rowoon #Taeyang #Hwiyoung #Chani #hwiyoung x reader #Hwiyoung smut #bad boy hwiyoung

[renarinkholin]

Let’s Talk About “The Young Wolf”

So the Destiny fandom as a whole has really latched on to “The Young Wolf” when referring to the player character Guardian, and this is a little strange to me. Not that people like the title (I don’t care for it much, but that’s a difference of taste thing) but that the fandom treats it as The One True Title/Name for our Guardians, as declared by lore. 

I wrote up a meta response to a post about a week ago, and just used “our Guardian” throughout, then mentioned in the tags that I don’t care to use “The Young Wolf” because I don’t really like it. I got a response that basically said, “I agree with your meta but people use The Young Wolf as their title because it’s canon and using ‘the Guardian’ is confusing and terrible.”

But is it really canon that this title is the main title amongst the many, many titles and accomplishments our Guardians have picked up? I decided to do some searching and my conclusion: It really isn’t.

Lore Check

NPCs and lore call our Guardian “Young Wolf” only 17 times in Ishtar Collective, which searches through lore books, dialogue transcripts, item descriptions, etc throughout Destiny and Destiny 2. The use of this title happens in three different cases: 1) used in the context of the Iron Lords/by Saladin directly, 2) used in a list of titles and accomplishments, as one of many, 3) used by non-Iron Lord characters in a general sense.

Saladin and the Iron Lords The first usage accounts for the majority of the title’s appearances, 10 of them total. Of these, 7 are said by Saladin, who gave our Guardians this nickname, 2 are by Tyra Karn (one of which she uses “A Young Wolf of the Iron Lords”) and 1 is when Shaxx calls you “Saladin’s Young Wolf” in the Homecoming opening mission of D2. I’m not going to screenshot all of these, but feel free to look them up if you want.

One Title Amongst Many The second usage, when it appears amongst many other titles, happens 4 times across the games: two times in Calus’ prophecy fanfic about us, once in Saint-14’s eulogy in the Corridors of Time, and once in Phylaks’ dialogue during her Empire Hunt.

Other Cases There are only 3 times where NPCs use “The Young Wolf” as a general title to refer to our Guardians. Vyhar calls us this in that his Ghost’s Fragment, Osiris calls us this in the Season of the Hunt’s transmission from him, and Saint-14 calls us this once while talking to Ikora.

Conclusions

The fact that the overwhelming majority of times we hear someone in-game or in-lore call our Guardians “The Young Wolf” it’s either Saladin using his personal nickname for us, someone referring to our status among the Iron Lords, or someone listing off a bunch of our titles and accomplishments. The fact that there’s only 3 times ever that it has been used in a general context, and two of them showed up this season means that I really can’t take at face value the notion that the “Young Wolf” is our main, general title. If the fandom wanted to just pick a title out of a hat at random amongst the many we’ve picked up, sure, it works. It is a title our Guardians have. It’s nowhere close to being the title for our Guardians.

In the grand scheme of things? It’s a pretty minor title. In fact, it’s mostly one character’s nickname for us. What’s the accomplishment here: “played Rise of Iron’s story campaign”? That’s the accomplishment the fandom has decided to define our player characters by? It’s baffling to me. 

After all, Emperor Calus decided to call us the Shadow of Earth, and that shows up in lore far more times numerically than “the Young Wolf.” Drifter calls my Warlock “Snitch” every time she plays Gambit because she didn’t side with him. I don’t see why either of those would be any more valid as a general title in the same way Saladin’s nickname, “Young Wolf” has become.

There’s better general titles out there. A whole bunch of characters refer to our character as “The Hero of the Red War,” including Asher, Saint-14, the Drifter, the Spider, Aunor, even a random Titan named Joxer. In lore, that seems to be more of the go-to “general” title for our Guardian in D2. And that makes sense, if we’re talking about our Guardian in the context of Destiny 2, it would make more sense to use their title that refers to them completing the vanilla campaign, not a random D1 expansion that, lore-wise, is pretty forgettable.

There’s a whole handful of titles we’ve got as a result of killing Oryx: Kingslayer, Destroyer of Oryx, Slayer of Oryx. In terms of importance, that’s a way bigger deal than finding and containing SIVA. Or “Crota’s End” for killing Crota. 

All in all, I think if we’re being honest, the devs try pretty hard to avoid giving our player characters any kind of name or main title in-universe. It’s tricky to write dialogue that way, but they do a pretty good job of it. Most of the time people refer to us, we’re just “the Guardian.” Or vendors will refer to you by your class as a title. Or a specific character will choose to give us a nickname and that specific character calls us that, which is what happened with Saladin. The few times where the writers are narratively written into a corner and they need someone to use a general title for us? They just pick one at random, it seems.

Anyway, this is a long post that probably will not really have an impact on anything. And in all honesty, I’m not trying to tell people that they should stop referring to the Guardian generally as “The Young Wolf” or that it’s bad or something. I just find it weird that this one got stuck in the fandom’s brain like this, and it’s one that you won’t see me personally using in a general sense because I find it to be kind of lame and I don’t think Rise of Iron was all that narratively important. I don’t really care about Saladin and I don’t see why I should pretend like his nickname is my Guardian’s general name in fandom spaces.

When I write meta, you’re going to see me using “our Guardian” or “the Guardian,” because that’s the general name the game gives. I don’t think of my Guardians as “the Young Wolf” any more than I consistently think about them as “Crota’s End” or “Shadow of Earth” or any of the other multitudinous titles we’ve accumulated over the years. They’ve done lots of things and they’re all of those titles technically. They’re just my Guardians though. 

People can refer to their Guardians however they want, and I’m sure “the Young Wolf” is sticky enough at this point that people are probably just going to keep using it in the general sense. But I take issue with assertions that it’s the game’s canon main title for us, or that it’s the objectively correct thing to call our Guardians. It’s not, it’s a minor title among many, and I personally am not interested in doing it. 

PS: If you read this whole post, you deserve a bowl of spicy ramen, on me! Have a coupon for it.

#the young wolf #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny meta #destiny #tbh i find the title just kind of boring #but every time i see a general destiny post use it as The Name For Your Guardian i just squint and go 'why tho' #there's better titles or also you could just call them The Guardian #why'd we pick salad man's weird nickname for playing a pretty forgettable d1 expansion as The Main One #i definitely do not consider my guardians 'the young wolf' any more than they're like any of the other nicknames npcs have given them #its like if i started writing general meta about how The Shadow of Earth killed Uldren Sov in Forsaken #like lol that title has nothing to do with them at all #anyway this was mostly pointless but i HAD FEELINGS so y'all get a long post about it #i put it under a cut at least

[x0401x]

“Hanako-san, Hanako-san, are you there?”

Happy anime release date! (staff and cast comments translated under the cut)

Author, AidaIro

“Hanako-kun” continues its serialization while borrowing the strength of several people, but this time, we received the terribly fortunate help of even more people and a TV animation was green-lit! It was blessed with extremely brilliant, passionate and best-ever staff members, so I have the happy presentiment that it will turn out as a fun anime! AidaIro and Mokke are ready to cheer for and watch it at full power, so please, let’s all enjoy the Hanako-kun anime together!

Voice of Hanako-kun, Ogata Megumi-san

I was extremely happy! After I received the offer, I became obsessed with the charm of the original work the very instant I read it. It was almost as if I had swallowed those mermaid sca… oops, please see the actual story for the rest (laughs).

This is a series where “School Mysteries” – which shine within the heart of anyone at least once, regardless of what generation they belong to – are portrayed endearingly, sensibly and captivatingly. I will do my best so that I can sharply raise my synchronization ratio with Hanako-kun, who is a big sadist that has nothing but cuteness to him and is also a little perverted despite being floaty and soft.

Together with these creators and staff team that I trust, stellar young members and skilled fellow veteran voice actors, I shall take you all into a tremendously exciting and thrilling whimsical world. Please have expectations for it.

Voice of Yashiro Nene, Kitou Akari-san

I am the one voicing Yashiro Nene, Kitou Akari!

I purchased and read the first volume of the original work “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun” during the time when the paperback was released. I would never have imagined that I would be selected to do Nene’s voice! When I passed the audition, along with happiness, I also had a surprise, like, “I was selected to voice this adorable Nene-chan…!?”, but as a fan of the original work, I think it would be great if I manage to finely express the image I have of Nene and that wonderful worldview to my utmost! I will also do my best with all my effort so that both the fans of the original work and the people who will be seeing it for the first time through the anime may enjoy it!

Voice of Minamoto Kou, Chiba Shouya-san

I read the original work during the audition, and amongst the fun touches that had many parts to laugh about, the sensitiveness and empathy towards emotions that make your breath halt pile up, so I was very drawn-in. I was extremely happy to actually have been put in charge of voicing Kou. I feel a charisma from his straight-forwardness and kindness. Amidst his middle-scholar-like liveliness, there are youthful activities, filled with sagacity. As a guy, I think it is really cool how he can make you feel that there is a possibility of growth for him even when he is confrontating something. I am performing to the best of my abilities so that I can express his goodness. I am also exceptionally looking forward to seeing Kou and the others moving around energetically. May the anime “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun” reach many people. We will be in your care!

Voice of Minamoto Teru, Uchida Yuuma-san

I am the one playing Minamoto Teru, Uchida Yuuma!

I read “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun” for the first time during the audition, and I was able to keep reading without getting scared thanks to the eerie existence of so-called apparitions being drawn with a sensible touch and pop colors. The story also has a comedic tempo, so I am looking forward to the dialogues!

The one I voice, Teru, is Kou’s older brother. He is normally gentle and cool with anybody, and is also the object of Kou’s much esteemed admiration. I hope to enact this reliable Onii-san successfully. Please do enjoy the suspicious and adorable animation of “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun”.

Voice of Akane Aoi, Satou Minako-san

I was the one chosen to play Akane Aoi-chan, Satou Minako!

When I was first told that I had been approved as Akane Aoi-chan, I could not believe it at all and my head went blank. I want to love Aoi-chan, who is the number one popular girl in school and adorable no matter from what angle you look at her, enough not to lose to Akane-kun, and keep voicing her!

This is my first time performing in an anime, so I am filled with anxiety and nervousness, but I go for the challenge during the recording every day while being helped out by the kindhearted cast members and the people from the production.

Hanako-kun is the best series, as it overflows with love, is warm and interesting, and makes your heart throb! I will put my soul into it to my utmost and do my best in order to develop together with Aoi-chan!

Voice of Nanamine Sakura, Anzai Chika-san

I will be the one playing Nanamine Sakura. This is Anzai Chika.

I believe people have interest in the Seven School Mysteries once in childhood. When I read the original work, I remembered for the first in a long time that feeling from childhood, where I had suspicions about your daily life and my heart raced at thinking about hypotheses regarding apparitions.

This is also a kind of romance…!

While drawn with comical cuteness, it sometimes makes your backbone freeze and sometimes suffocates your chest with feelings… This world-building and story soon stole my heart. While looking forward to watching it as a spectator, I am happy to engage in it as Sakura.

Sakura is still an individual with many mysteries surrounding her in the original work, but I will do my best to be one of the people who will invite everyone into this story and make you all its captives.

Please support the anime along with the original work!

Voice of Hyuuga Natsuhiko, Mizushima Takahiro-san

This time, I will be playing the role of Hyuga Natsuhiko!

If anyone ever made a “Mizushima’s tendency and countermeasures” quiz, and if it had the question “What role does Mizushima play amongst the ‘Hanako-kun’ characters?”, he is the kind of character that makes you firmly hooked on him in a natural way, enough that you would be able to answer “Natsuhiko” without missing a beat! Therefore, I want to perform him enjoyably, anyhow!

Director, Andou Masaomi

I enjoy scary stories and adore school ghost stories, but I like bizarre yet delightful mysteries even more. No, I like Mokke. I also adore Hanako-kun, who lives in the girls’ toilet despite being a boy, the cute Nene-chan, who has fatty ankles, that guy who has super lame communication bias, and everyone else. And also Mokke.

We will soon be able to meet them, who are amusing yet somewhat miserable, in the world of animation as well. It is currently in the process of production! Mokke, that is!

Look forward to this heartfelt toilet horror comedy! Please! Mokke!

Series composer and scriptwriter, Nakanishi Yasuhiro

As someone who sensed the so-called Seven School Mysteries as something romantic during grade school, Hanako-kun felt like a nostalgic yet new existence to me. Sadly, there was no such thing as coming across school mysteries back then, so I am happy to have now met the Seven Mysteries of Kamome Academy in this fashion. I am enthusiastic about conveying them to the fans of the original work, in which Aida Iro-sensei draws obscure yet lovable mysteries, and to the people who will come in contact with the series from now on.

Character designer, Itou Mayuka

Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun, congratulations on the TV animation being green-lit! I am the one in charge of the character design; my name is Itou. I am working on the production while wondering everyday… about how we can draw out the unique worldview, wonderful color usage, the cuteness and coolness of the characters that start out from Hanako-kun and Nene-chan, amongst other things, to their maximum. I will be drawing with all my might in order to please the fans of the original work, so please wait while looking forward to the airing date!

Animation producer, Higa Yuuji

When I first read “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun”, since my staple foods are traditional Japanese style, youkai, mysteries and ghosts, an image of Hanako-kun and the others talking and moving immediately played out inside my head. “This is great!! We should totally make it into an anime through Lerche,” I thought, and soon suggested to Square Enix that I wanted to make it into animation. Several comrades gathered up thanks to the power of the original work as well, and we made it to this point soundly. We fellow staff members are doing our best so that the images I pictured may be conveyed to everyone, so please cheer for us.

ANCHOR (from ZiNG)

I managed to make a cool ZiNG-like composition by borrowing the strength of lots of people, such as my great senpais, Ooishi-san and Ikuta-san, and everyone from ZOC. It goes without saying for the singing voice and the performance, but I would be happiest if I get to support the series as a fan with this song, of which the lyrics I put all the love I have for “Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun” into.

Ikuta Youji (from PENGUIN RESEARCH)

I am always singing either in a band or as a voice actor, so it was my first stump singing with someone as a vocalist. And the other person was Ooishi-san, who I look up to, no less! I would be happy if the coolness of the OP hits home, of course, but also if the joy of making a composition together with everyone could be conveyed too.

Ooishi Masayoshi (from PENGUIN RESEARCH)

This time, I am doing a duet with Ikuta-kun and a chorus with ZOC was also added, and for me, there were many first-time challenges such as rap parts and singing with several people, so it was a very exciting recording. I hope everyone can listen to it with a fresh sense of taste!

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hanako kun #hanako #yugi amane #yashiro nene #minamoto kou #minamoto teru #akane aoi #nanamine sakura #hyuuga natsuhiko #anime #shounen #color #cast comments #my translations #aidairo

[pinballwitxh]

get down tonight - imagine - steven hyde x oc

Get Down Tonight, KC and the Sunshine Band

summary: after accidentally slamming a door into steven hyde’s face, a fellow classmate catches his interest and he pays her a late-night visit.

warnings: drug usage and cursing

a/n: I am so glad I am writing one for Hyde, my favorite character of that 70′s show!!!  also I know all the stoner terms since I myself am a hardcore stoner.  so this was an absolute blast to write!  enjoy y’all!  there will definitely be more to this, I may make it a small series of stories with this same character and their storyline.

1976 - KENOSHA, WISCONSIN

She could see him across the dance-floor, dark and brooding yet somehow still as handsome as ever.  She rolled her eyes and turned back to talk to her friends.  Somehow she was angry at him for being so cool but so bad. 

Steven Hyde always made her furious, especially at school.

When he wasn’t getting away with skipping school or sneaking out at night, he took the punishments without a care in the world, and continued to act so stupid.  He never got in the trouble he deserved.  

“Look at that burnout, always frowning.” one of her friends scoffed.

She nodded, “It annoys me.”

“Did you see him dancing with Donna Pinciotti earlier?  Clearly she had no interest, don’t blame her.” another friend said while sipping on a water. She glanced back to the wall he was leaning against, still in the same position with the same look.

Around them couples were pouring out onto the floor.  The girl sighed when she turned back to find her friends gone.  With a huff she stood and knocked her chair over.  The disco was supposed to be the most fun place around, a place where you could find friends and a partner to dance with.

She was expecting to waltz in and find a gentlemanly boyfriend, actually.

The bathroom was empty when she slammed the door open.  For a few minutes she stood in front of the mirror examining her makeup and tightly curled hair.  She frowned to herself and thought to herself, why does no one pick me?

After giving herself a quiet reassurance she left for the exit and was surprised to hear a thud on the other side of the door when she opened it.  She sucked in a sharp breath and peered around the frame and gasped quietly.

Steven Hyde was laying on the floor with a hand to his nose, groaning just the tiniest bit.  

She stuck a hand out, took it back, stuck it out, and finally held it back to herself with a wince.  If she left before he sat up she would be in the clear, she could pretend like she hadn’t just rammed a door into his scruffy face.

She turned on her heel and began to walk away quickly but quietly, wincing at the tone of his voice when he called out, “What the hell, man?  I can hear you walking away so don’t even think about walking away,”

Dead in her tracks, she took a deep breath and turned back to face him.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought-”

“Thought you could get away?  Yeah, I saw you.” he growled as he sat up slowly with his hand still gloved over his nose, “You know hit-and-runs are illegal?”

A small smile threaten to pull at her lips but she held back, leaning down to offer him a hand.

“I said I was sorry, let me help you up,” she insisted.

Steven sighed and took her hand tightly, allowing her to help him stand.  Dizziness took over upon standing up so quickly and he screwed his eyes shut, “What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?”

“Wouldn’t know, don’t drink really.” she said as wiped her palm on the side of her dress.

Steven scoffed, “Why am I not surprised you don’t?” he smirked.

She frowned and crossed her arms, “What does that means?”

He shook his head, “I see the way you and your posse look at me.  It doesn’t make me feel any worse about myself, ya know?  My mother already does a great job at that,”

He watched her eyes flick to the ground, a telltale sign he had gotten his point across and that he’d probably made himself look even more like a delinquent.  With a sigh he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Don’t you have a group to get back to and gossip with?”

She laughed, “They left me for the dance-floor.”

Steven nodded, “Ah, yes.  Mine as well. . .”

For a moment it was quiet and awkward between the two.  The sound of the deep bass of disco thrummed in the air and she could feel the vibrations in her bell-bottoms.

“Wanna get outta here and smoke some Mary Jane?”

“Are you INSANE?” she shrieked, earning a shushing from Steven.

“No, I’m not, and I think you’d be a little more sane if you smoked some with me.” he smirked, “I see you at school sometimes, you’re way uptight.”

She shook her head, “I don’t really know who you think I am or what I do, but that is not it.”

Steven raised his hands in defense, “I get it, I get it, just thought I’d offer since I have some to share.  Spread the love, y’know?”

“Sure, spread the love.  That’s very kind of you,” she said.

The song ended and she could hear her friends calling her name amongst the crowd.   She turned back to Steven and crossed her arms, “Well, I’m sorry I slammed a door in your face.  I hope your night gets better,” she said quietly.

Steven shoved his hands back into his pockets with a shrug, “Yeah, you too or, whatever.”

- - -

It was 11:00PM and her eyes would not stay shut.  Her brain wouldn’t power down, either.  Sleep seemed to be a distant dream for now.  With a sigh she reached over and turned her lamp back on and opened one of the books by her bed.

Not five minutes later she could hear a faint tapping her bedroom window.  The curtains were pulled over and she was not going to check who it was.  Probably one of the Kelso brothers trying to bother her as they did once in a while.

The tapping stopped for a minute and she settled back under the covers and returned to her book.

Boom boom boom.

“Hey goody-goody, wanna see how my nose looks now?”

She jumped at the voice and set her book down momentarily to sit in surprise.  Was Steven Hyde at her window?

“I don’t have all night, I can see your light is on, too.”

She scrambled out of bed and through a sweatshirt on before drawing the curtains and pulling up the blinds.  There stood Steven Hyde in full-smirk glory, leaning on her windowsill.  She winced at his bruising eye and nose, apologizing once more to him and he merely waved it off, “Makes me look tough.”

She opened the window and placed a hand at her hip, “What are you doing here?  How do you know where I live?” she questioned angrily.

Steven shrugged, “Not that hard to look up an address.  Plus I was bored, couldn’t sleep.  Looks like we’ve got the same issue,” he grinned.

She crossed her arms, “Well I’m not letting you in here, I know what this means.  Kelso’s tried it thousands of times-”

“First off, I’m not Kelso.  Second, you don’t have to let me in.  I’m fine standin’ out here by myself.  And third,” he paused to reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a freshly rolled joint, “Sometimes smoking alone isn’t all that fun.”

“What about that group you’re always with, Eric Forman? Kelso, that foreign kid?  And Donna Pinciotii. . .why don’t you go smoke with them?”

“Already did.”

“Well go do it again,”

“Nah, it was getting boring.  Plus, it’s hard to talk over Jackie Burkhart’s constant whining and her lips all over Kelso’s.”

The girl nodded silently and looked away, “Well I’m not gonna smoke it.”

“Fine, more for me.” he said as he pulled a lighter from his pocket, “D’ya mind?”

She looked behind her and made sure the door was locked before giving him the okay.  He grinned at her approval and brought the lighter up to his face, holding the finely rolled joint between his lips.  

Which she was currently staring at and couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from.

The smell hit her first and she recoiled, “Why does it smell like a skunk?”

Steven laughed and took a drag, “I love it.”

“How could you smoke something that smells like that?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you just get used to it, you learn to appreciate it the more you smoke.  You can smell the nature in it, y’know?  It’s a flower anyways, it’s got a sort-of earthy smell to it before you light up.”

She laughed, “You really are a stoner like they say,”

“What else do they say?” he asked, leaning closer to her from the windowsill.

She looked away, “A lot of things. . .”

“I’ve got all the time right now, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she pointed at him, “Besides, none of it’s really nice anyways.”

“You think I care what a bunch of school girls think about me?” he said defensively, “I can assure you I have been called worse.”

“Don’t say that-”

“Why, cause it makes you uncomfortable to hear about how shitty my life is compared to yours?”

“No,” she said firmly, glaring at him.

He scoffed, “Okay, I’ll spare you the sob story then.”

“Why are you here, Steven?”

“Oh god don’t call me that, please.  Just call me Hyde, everyone else does.”

“Alright then, Hyde, why are you here smoking a joint at my window?” she asked as she stepped closer, arms still crossed over her chest.

He took another long drag and looked away for a minute, letting the wind carry the smoke from his lips in beautiful swirls and ripples.  She wondered for a moment if he could blow smoke rings, and how cool that would actually kinda be.

“To tell you the truth I don’t really know, but part of me wants to corrupt that good girl inside of you-”

“Gross, that is so typical!  All boys want is-”

“I’m not Kelso, remember?  And I don’t mean it in that way. . .at least not yet,” he waggled his eyebrows, “I just think you’re an interesting person, is that such a crime?”

She shook her head, “No, it isn’t.”

“Maybe I just wanna show you I’m not the guy your friends think I am.” he said quietly, looking away to take another puff.

For a few more minutes he sucked on his joint while she watched and awkwardly shifted her weight on her legs.  He was making her feel so guilty and she figured it was his intention.  One more time he offered her the joint and she passed, he simply shrugged his shoulders again and finished it.

He bent down to put out the smoking joint and stashed the roach in his pocket, “Don’t worry, I wont leave any evidence that I’ve been here,”

“Well, thank you for the conversation but I should be going to bed.”

Steven rubbed his hands together and smiled, “Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow at the same time.”

He left before she could question his statement. 

#steven hyde #steven hyde x reader #steven hyde x you #steven hyde x oc #that 70s show #that 70's show #that 70's show imagine #that 70s show imagine

[tsumtsum-into-omiomi]

CHAPTER TWO: HISTORY 101

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1.4k

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AO3

"What if... I told you all that practitioners like us used to be able to roam the earth as we wished?" Atsumu starts, a smug look on his face as if he is about to reveal a huge secret. Osamu, who is sitting behind the class computer to control their slide show, rolls his eyes. He hates it when Atsumu presents because he tends to act overly dramatic.

 "They're able to be found anywhere in Japan, and even though they're a minority, practitioners and non-practitioners lived in harmony together. They're accepted and even trusted to govern states alongside non-practitioners; taking on important roles as ministers and such. Sounds pretty sweet, right?"

 Atsumu then pauses for a second to cue Osamu to move on to the next slide. The screen flickers, now projecting six pictures of professional looking men and women in suits with their names underneath, "these people are examples of distinguished figures who made sure our law and order were in place so that the peace between practitioners and non-practitioners was kept in check when they lived together. They drafted the constitution that we are still using to this day."

 "This woman," Atsumu points to one of the pictures on his slide, "Ota Shiori, was the person who campaigned for the famous safety law to be sanctioned. It was designed to protect non-practitioners from unlawful usage of magic on them. She truly believed that, in no circumstances should they feel threatened by the power that they were not blessed with. And the practitioners were cautious about this matter. They made sure not to hurt anyone with their magic."

 "However, circa 1850s, non-practitioners began a purging movement, fueled by a rising political party, called Chōwa, who wanted to be in power," Atsumu gestures to Osamu. He taps on the keyboard and the slide changes. There are pictures of protests and violent acts on the screen, assumed to be inflicted on practitioners. Low murmurs and soft gasps can be heard filling the lecture hall. There is tension in the air.

 "To them," Atsumu continues, riding on the mood of the class and using a serious tone, "for as long as practitioners were living among non-practitioners, they would not be able to hold absolute administration because they thought we could topple them down with our magic anytime. That scared them a lot."

 Osamu then stands up to continue where Atsumu left off, "the purge had forced magic practitioners to move and live in isolation, away from others, just to ensure their safety," but unlike Atsumu, his voice is indifferent. He has a mind map displayed and it shows a list of town names. "They began to find new lands to start fresh and due to their small numbers, the community was scattered all over the country. They built small towns where they could live amongst their own people and keep to themselves to stay out of trouble.”

 Osamu points to the screen, “these are the magic towns established over the years that we know of, including ours; Taishi. It is the only town in Hyōgo which houses magic practitioners since the year 1957, a settlement where we can exercise spells freely and a place called home for us to live in peace. Fun fact; Tokyo is the only prefecture that has more than one magic town," Osamu appears dead panned, making it very hard for the audience to be convinced that it is, indeed, a fun fact.

 He taps on the keyboard again. This time, the Hyōgo prefecture's map is presented beside a picture of three men in suits standing side by side.

 "However, it is also important to note that there are people out there who do not share Chōwa's sentiment towards the magic community and are accepting of us," he informs, "our small town has its secret hold hidden by the cities of Tatsuno and Himeji. They envelop and give us the protection that we need from being exposed to the rest of the world. It's an agreement they made decades ago with us, even before the name Taishi came to exist, to repay the practitioners for helping them during the age of wars. These three men, Mori Daigo, Abe Genta and Ikeda Hide, were the leaders back then who came up with the peace treaty that is still in effect up until today."

 "Here are some interesting facts on Taishi," Osamu skips to the following slide, "we have a population of around thirty thousand. Our school, Inarizaki, was founded by Abe Genta. The famous Kudo Street was named after Kudo Kazuki, the first practitioner who built our town. Kudo Street gains its popularity as a place to get magical supplies in the 70s..."

 "Gosh, interesting facts?" you whisper to your friend beside you. The two of you are sitting at the far back of the hall, "his face doesn't reflect it at all. Appear a bit more enthusiastic, man."

 Suna yawns, "as if he gives a shit."

 "I'm hungry," you huff.

 "If we hadn't joined this class for fun, we would already be eating right now," Suna side-eyes you.

 "Hey, you also thought it's a fun idea to see the twins present!" you jeer back. "And in case you forgot, we can leave anytime. We're literally sitting beside the door."

 "Nah, let's ask the presenters some mind-boggling questions while we're already here," Suna waves his hand lazily.

 "See, isn't this a better way to spend our free period?" you smirk.

 Suna grins back at you, "go do your work, Satan."

 "Any questions?" Atsumu implores to the class. The two of you sit straight and draw your attention back to the front after realising that the presentation is over.

 You see no hands raised. Nice, an impassive class; the perfect audience. You put your hand up, catching Atsumu's eyes. He points at you with a smile, "yes, at the back there?"

 However, his smile vanishes instantly when you stand up, finally taking notice of you and Suna, who are intruding the class. He glares at you as a warning.

 "I have some questions," you announce, ignoring the invisible daggers he's throwing at you, "aren't you two fifth year students? Why did you choose basic history to present on? Weren't there any other challenging topics that you could've tackled on?"

 Atsumu seems like he's about to break the pen he's holding into half while Osamu scratches his temple with his middle finger, a quiet "fuck you" for you. You and Suna stifle some giggles at their reactions as you plop back into your seat.

 The History teacher clears his throat, "answer the question, Miya. I was wondering the same thing too. I know I said you're free to choose what to present on, but isn't yours very... elementary? Even though this is an entry level History class, I expected more since you're seniors."

 "Aw man," Suna chortles, "if they fail this class again... you're a part of the reason."

 "Nah, Morita-sensei will let them pass this time," you respond, "I don't think he wants to see them again next year for the third time."

 "Lol, imagine having to take an entry level History course  three times in the span of six years at this school."

 "Hm, maybe it's something only the twins can achieve."

 "Look at him spewing bullshit," Suna snickers at Atsumu, who is trying to justify his and Osamu's presentation topic to his best ability.

 "His expertise anyway," you scoff, not even paying attention to what Atsumu is saying.

 Suna nods in agreement, “I feel bad but I’m really enjoying this.”

 “They’re gonna be so pissed off,” you cackle.

 "Any more questions?" Atsumu addresses the whole class.

 "Oh shit, my turn," Suna raises a hand up.

 "Don't let Morita-sensei see you or we'll get kicked out," you remind him in a low voice. Suna only stands up half of his height, hiding from Morita's view behind the rows of students sitting in front of him.

 Once Atsumu catches his raised hand and makes eye contact with Suna, he mouthes a "fuck you" at him. Unfortunately, he doesn't really have a choice other than answering, "yes?"

 "Do you know if the samurai practised magic?"

 A snort escapes from you upon hearing Suna’s question. You then see a text come in from Osamu, who must’ve sent it from behind the computer while everyone was paying attention to Suna just now. It says "I'm gonna feed you two shit tomorrow". You almost lose it seeing how pressed Osamu is right now— it’s a rare sight. You reply with “sounds good 😋” to him and he sends a middle finger emoji back.

 Ah, what better way to enjoy the trivial life as a student other than being a pain in your brothers’ asses?

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AO3

Thank you for reading till the end!! World building is my passion LMAO jk it's super hard I love creating it but writing it?? Phew... Anyway, this is just to give context of the AU they're in!! Hope it gave you a good idea!

#Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #Inarizaki

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Hello Internet, welcome to GAME THEORY, where instead of putting a joke here I want to ask you a question. It's time to talk UNDERTALE.

Now I don't think I've ever gotten this many requests to cover a theory, (no requests times no requests is still no requests.) Anyway, across my tumblr dashboard, NO ONE has asked for this. And honestly, I'm disappointed. True loyal theorists will know that Undertale is my favorite game of all time.

Undertale is a game where every character, from goat mom to grind fodder has a sympathetic design and a unique personality, motivations, goals, fears. Whether you're saving or slaughtering them, the game makes you feel something every time you enter an encounter. But to me, one character stood out amongst all the rest. SANS. A skeleton named after the font, Comic Sans. ANYWAYS, Sans is, well, there's a lot of mystery around this guy. And before we get into it, let me put up a very special spoiler warning: UNDERTALE is a game best experienced blind. So if you haven't played it, pause your reading of this and come back after you've finished. I PROMISE YOU, I PROMISE you won't regret it. Alright, so everyone out of the pool and ready for the adult swim? Good. Because I'm feeling pretty determined to get to the bottom of Sans' mystery. So just to recap for those of you who haven't played the game and ignored the SPOILER WARNING, or just need a refresher, Sans is one of the two skeletal brothers who appears in the game. His partner is Papyrus, a loud, goofy trap lover also named after a font. But in the world of Undertale their origins are a big question mark. All you really know is what's given to us by a shopkeeper in Snowdin, who explains that Sans and Papyrus, quote, “just showed up one day and asserted themselves.” Weird, right? What's more is that, well, Papyrus is just kinda the goofy sidekick. Sans is much more complex.

He likes fart jokes, but he's also incredibly powerful and deadly serious. Not only is his boss battle the hardest in the game, he's one of the only characters who has knowledge and power over space and time. He can take shortcuts around the world through ridiculous routes. Even is walking through walls. He also acknowledges that he's only one of infinite versions of himself, making self-aware commentary of the various timelines that you've played through in the game. He can even count the number of times he's killed you. He acts like an arbiter of this world, passing out judgements on the player's actions in the game, even explaining the secrets of EXP and LOVE, or EXECUTION POINTS and LEVELS OF VIOLENCE, just to clarify. In short, he just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the world of monsters. But then, what, or who, is he? Well, the idea that he doesn't belong in the underworld seems to be correct.

The evidence seems to point to the fact that he WAS, in fact, formerly a surface dweller. In the true pacifist ending of the game, as the group looks out onto the horizon, Papyrus asks Sans about the giant ball in the sky. Sans says, quote, “we call that the sun.” This is important because A, the usage of the word WE, and knowledge of the sun shows that Sans has a kinship or knowledge with other humans, and B, that despite he and Papyrus both being skeletons, or, supposedly, brothers, and apparently appeared in underworld at the same time, they CLEARLY have two very different histories. Why would Papyrus not know the name of the sun but Sans would?

We get further clues to Sans' origins as we hear him say multiple times he wants to "go home" or "go back." He says as much during his dinner date scene at the Mettaton hotel. He notices that the player wants to go home and says, quote, "I know the feeling." He then continues, "maybe sometimes it's better to take what's given to you." As though he ended up in the underworld by accident. AND in a genocide run during his boss fight he says, quote, "look, I gave up trying to go back a long time ago." End quote. And before you say he means going back to the surface world, that's clearly not the full story. His very next line of dialogue is, "and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore either." Key word here is “EITHER.” Yes, he seems to hail from the surface and wants to go back, but based on his dialogue he no longer considers it his home. It's as though the surface world he once knew is gone, as though he's from a different time. It's pretty intriguing. So we're left with a being that appeared out of nowhere, presumably from being from the human surface, but from a different time period, who seemingly has the power to teleport. That's a lot of questions and not a lot of answers.

But here's where things get REALLY interesting. Sans has a hidden workshop that takes a fair amount of searching to find. You could say it takes a lot of DETERMINATION to unlock. Anyways, obligatory determination references aside, as you start to look for this easter egg Sans gives you a key to his room and says "it's time you learn the truth." After some searching you find the workshop which contains items that leave even more questions. A photo album featuring Sans and a bunch of smiling people you don't recognize, a badge, blueprints with illegible handwriting, and a broken machine hidden behind a curtain. In the latest update, one more detail was added. A hand-drawn picture of 3 smiling faces with the words “don't forget.”

So, what does it all mean? Well a lot of Undertale theorists have been linking these details to a feature to a character named W.D Gaster. A ghostly character who never truly appears in the game. Honestly, covering him is a theory all unto itself, and probably one best saved for another day. Even still, none of the Gaster theories I've seen have been able to explain all the details. In particular, the photo album, and the badge. And that's what kept nagging me as I researched Undertale. A badge? That one in particular really stuck out to me. Why would such an oddly specific item to be hidden in the huge easter egg of a room? Something that supposedly reveals the truth about Sans? Badges just aren't important in Undertale. Then it hit me. What if this badge isn't from Undertale? What if this badge is from a completely different series? And was, in fact, the most important badge in the history of gaming? One of the Iskall patreon badges.

Now, for those of you wondering what I'm talking about, the Iskall Patreon Badges are a pivotal item from Iskall’s patreon. You know, the one on Hermitcraft. Anyway, the Iskall Patreon Badges are a really important part of Iskall’s character. So I asked myself; what if the badge in Sans' drawer was ONE OF THOSE EXACT badges? Well first off, it made Undertale connected to my favorite youtuber, thereby making it even COOLER, but that's still a pretty big logical leap. I needed more. Let me tell you, as I started looking, more and more pieces started to fit into place.

In Hermitcraft Season 6, there are three Architechs. (This was before Stress joined in season 7.) These 3 were Iskall, Grian and MumboJumbo. And what does Sans happen to have in his other drawer? A photo album with pictures of Sans with people you don't recognize. Of course you don't know them, they're not characters present in Undertale. And note the word that's used here, PEOPLE you don't recognize. Not underworld monsters. So that's 2 items oddly linked to the Hermitcraft series.

But then, how do the blueprints and broken machine fit in? Well, in the final stretch of Hermitcraft, Iskall is the only one who hasn’t died since the Demise game, so he sells his own body to the highest bidder. Except, it comes with a cost. Everyone is poor. As a result, and with the help of ImpulseSV, the Architechs (minus Mumbo,) are forced to finally kill Iskall, ending his streak since the beginning of demise. I watched this episode in 2020 and I'm not ashamed to admit that when I first saw this scene, I cried. It's DEVASTATING.

Iskall says goodbye to his friends, his co-workers, this character you've grown to love and care about is suddenly promising to sacrifice his life. For all he knows, there is no possibility of him being able to come back after his Demise. It's this incredibly dark departure in the final moments of what was otherwise a fun, quirky, and colorful Season 6.

So what does all of this have to do with Undertale? A LOT, actually. But the first thing you need to know is that the hermits are known for their, let's say, unique written linguistic style.

That would explain the illegible handwriting on the blueprints. And the machine? I think a broken infinity portal is behind that curtain. Now that may seem like a stretch, but it actually explains a lot.

If Sans wound up in Undertale via whacky infinity portal hyjinx, it could provide a reason for why he's a skeleton. He used the machine as organic matter and suffered the consequences. Not killing him, but turning at least a part of him into a pile of bones. That could also explain why Sans has given up hope for going home. Remember the infinity portal is a time machine. By being in the underworld, he's not only in a different place, but based on how he talks, he's also in a different time, with no hope of travelling back to the time he came from. This could theoretically happen. It turned Scar into a wizard and completely disintegrated Welsknight, so the rules are… Flimsy at best.

But the crossovers between Hermitcraft and Undertale continue. In Grian’s episode, (EDIT IN TIMESTAMP) he mentions he’s amazed that Iskall only escaped his demise with a lost arm. He says Iskall had “a lot of determination to not die for real,” and that he’s going to continue to study this. Seems awfully similar to the same experiments happening in Undertale around the trait of determination, no? Especially since so much has shown that Sans was a key player in those experiments.

But I'm sure you also want physical evidence right? Well don't worry, because I have plenty. Take a look at Iskall and Sans side by side. Iskall’s left eye is replaced with a diamond loupe. Sans’ left eye glows blue when he’s mad. Both have extremely chill yet are known for their jokes and, dare I say, laugh.

In short, we have some incredibly strong proof that the Hermitcraft Cinematic Universe, (HCU) is somehow connected to the Undertale world, which brings us back to our initial question, WHO IS SANS?

Well, what if we took it one final step and said that Sans happened to be Iskall from Hermitcraft? Sent through the Infinity Portal at the end of season 6 to go to Season 7, carrying an Iskall Patreon Badge and his photo album. Not only do all the items in the workshop suddenly fit, but so does Sans’ behavior.

Remember, Sans can seemingly travel extremely quickly. And Iskall just happens to have an elytra, a device that allows people to travel hundreds of metres extremely quickly. This even explains why Sans bleeds when you finally hit him. He is, or at least, WAS, a human.

Oh and finally, Sans shares two out of five letters with the name Iskall. That's just a fun one. I thought it was worth mentioning.

But if there was any doubt, we have to look no further than the creator's previous work. Toby Fox, the man behind Undertale is actually DocM77, the creator of every hermit (besides Scar.) Now, if Toby Fox, the creator of Undertale, is also DocM77, creator of Iskall, we know they will most definitely share a universe. Which brings us back to Undertale. 2 faces, with “don't forget” written on it? It's Iskall, trying to remember his 2 friends. In short, Undertale is a continuation of Toby’s version of Hermitcraft Season 6, with Iskall never being able to get home, adopting the name Sans. The pieces all just seem to fit. Now all we need is an appearance from Ethoslab and we’ve got ourselves a true sequel.

But hey, that's just a theory. A GAME THEORY! THANKS FOR WATCHING!

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #iskall85 #iskall #TheScience! #posted 11.05.20 #long post #please note this is literally a copy paste of the actual script #with some changes #but yeah actual cred to Matt on this one