#and instead told truths!! and gave humans the opportunity to truly be good!!!

[lucradiss]

Thinking about how Aziraphale invented lying.

Because Crowley did not lie when he tempted Eve— he told her exactly what would happen, if she took a bite of the fruit of knowledge. She would know the difference between good and evil. He did not lie about that.

But Aziraphale gave away the sword appointed to him by God Herself, and then spun the very first lie to protect himself from her wrath.

Regardless of whether it was a small lie, it was a lie all the same, and a lie directly to God. He, an angel, told the very first lie, thereby inventing the act of lying.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one?

#not art #good omens #gomens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale is an angel and therefore should be a beacon of truth and goodness #and yet he invented lying #crowley on the other hand is a demon who was sent up to make trouble #and instead told truths!! and gave humans the opportunity to truly be good!!! #because goodness is not the absence of evil!!! #goodness is only achieved in spite of evil!!! #and crowley gave the gift of goodness to humans!! #oh god. I am so normal

[houseof-lamentation]

kinktober day 3 - overstimulation - levi

pairing: leviathan x gender neutral reader

word count: 1302

warnings: mc's junk is not mentioned at all, this is truly gender neutral. use of a safe word. nsfw

tags: handjob, bondage, safe wording (they're ok!), overstimulation, sub levi/dom reader, i think theres some begging, no penetration

~

Leviathan’s hands were tied to the top posts of MC’s bed, his ankles secured similarly to the bottom posts. The resulting position he was in, spread eagle, was far more open than he initially wanted, but watching MC move around him, checking the binding to ensure they were safe, Levi found himself more excited than embarrassed.

“You look pretty,” Levi mumbled, and then laughed loudly, trying to cover his face somehow, “I-I mean— the… no, I don’t mean— I don’t… don’t look at me.”

“You’re also very pretty,” MC gave him a soft smile, holding one side of the demon’s face to rub his cheek with their thumb. “It's never too late to back out, Levi. We can stop now if you want.”

“No,” he said, finding his own boldness to be strange, “I want to do this. And I want to do this with you.”

MC moved quickly to kiss the demon, one hand tangling with his hair, kissing him breathless. Leviathan let out a quiet moan against their lips and he chased them as his human pulled away from him. Held by the restraints, Levi couldn't follow for long, and instead dropped his head down.

“Do you remember your safe word?” They asked.

Levi smiled and nodded, answering, “Goldfish.” The smile that MC gave Levi made his heart leap and his knees weak. Truth be told, he hated that they did that to him, but he loved the feeling. He relished it. Nothing felt quite like it, and he was happier to be with it than without it. Especially with MC.

MC started slow. They ran their hands up and down Levi’s body, instructing him to take deep breaths, walking him through it. Their touch, warm and kind, caused Levi to shiver and chew on his lip to avoid making any noise. By the time MC was touching his cock, Levi already felt his orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach. Not that that surprised him, since MC usually had that effect on him.

Gingerly, MC wrapped one hand around Levi’s length, stroking it just a few times, slowly and softly. Their hand came to rest with their thumb pointing up, a gentle pressure against the frenulum. They looked at him as they started to stroke the sensitive skin.

“How many orgasms can demons have, typically?” They asked. Levi laid his head down, flustered, and made a noise of avoidance. “Oh, come on. I don't think it's one. Three maybe. Five seems like too many.”

Levi grunted and started muttering, looking hesitant as he spoke, “Well— some can. Like five would be fine for, like, a succubus. D-Depends on the demon.”

“Well… what about a demon like you?” MC asked, starting to move their hand up and down once more, cutting off whatever answer Levi might've given immediately. He squirmed for a moment, his face blushing bright red, but he also seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Th-Three or four, probably,” he gave MC a whine and squeezed his eyes shut, “Your hand, MC, it f— it feels so good!”

“Do you think I can get three orgasms out of you, handsome?” MC asked, smiling when Levi’s knees shook a little. He was unused to praise, and MC used every opportunity they had to make him blush.

“Yeah,” Levi admitted, moving his hips in search of more friction, which MC happily provided. “Yeah, you will.”

The first was almost too much. Leviathan would admit that, of course, it was the effect MC had on him. Could he really be blamed? The second orgasm seemed to come far too quickly. MC was still only using their hands, one pumping him, the other rubbing him just right. Again, Levi blamed MC and how they made him feel, how they smiled at him and touched him and cooed at him.

As it so often happens, MC’s hand got tired and their wrist started to cramp, at which point, they got out a vibrator. Levi was still so sensitive from his recent orgasm that when they pressed it to the head of his cock and first turned it on that he was sure he would be done for the night right then and there.

He wasn't. At least, MC wasn't done with him. By the time Levi reached his third orgasm, he was shaking, shivering, sweating, and sputtering. He also had enough breath to beg MC, though no matter how many times they asked him to clarify what he was begging for, he had no words.

MC watched as his orgasm neared, squeezing gently to tip Levi over the edge. He shouted and started panting, making such gorgeous sounds, making a mess of himself.

MC hand didn't stop, like before, and Levi started whining louder, more frantic, more needy. MC started to slow down, but Levi egged them on, saying, “No, no, I need it, please,” and thanking them. The thanking was new, MC noted.

“Oh hell! Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell, oh fuck— fuck!” Levi had tears running down his face as he orgasmed again, this time dry. His eyes rolled back in his head as he rode it out, and then, after a few breaths, his tune changed.

“Goldfish!” He panted out, and MC removed their hand quickly. He continued babbling “Goldfish” repeatedly as he found himself again, catching his breath. MC had already started to remove the cuffs from his hands, and he didn't let them move to his feet before he pulled them into a hug.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m okay,” he whispered, every breath still heavy. MC could feel his heart racing in his chest, and they started to rub his back. “I’m okay. Just got to be too much. I’m okay. Please just hold me.”

MC promised they would, squeezing Levi’s hand in reassurance. They uncuffed his feet and got a warm towel to clean him off, and as soon as he was in pants, he curled up on his side with MC in his arms. He showed no signs of letting go, burying his face in his human’s hair.

“Are you okay, Levi?” MC asked, one hand petting Levi’s hair as the other rubbed his back. “I’m here for you, it’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, still breathless, pressing his face against MC’s chest. He took deep breaths, calming himself down, letting his human rub his back. Eventually, he pulled away from them, but before they could talk, he pressed his lips to theirs. He kissed them slowly and sweetly, like he usually did after sex, when he was blissful and content and confident.

“Did you like that?” Levi mumbled, hiding his face in the nape of the human’s neck, “Did you have fun? I hope you had fun.”

MC chuckled, “I had plenty of fun, sweetheart. I loved it. You're so fun to tease, you know. I love watching you squirm and… hearing you beg.”

Levi whined softly, then laughed like he was nervous, as though MC hadn't just had him splayed across the bed and orgasming until he couldn't take it anymore. “Don’t get me excited again, I can’t handle anything more.”

“Ooh,” MC hummed, kissing Levi’s neck and rolling on top of the demon to straddle him, “That sounds like a challenge, Levi. Maybe I won’t let you cum at all now. Maybe you'll have to give me all your attention.”

Levi looked up at them, a lustful look on his face, despite how terribly he was blushing. He let out a strangled moan as MC started to rock their hips back and forth, grinding on him through both sets of pants, and he gave a small nod.

“I’m going to make you beg now,” he said, almost like it was a warning, and MC was quick to lean down and kiss him.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #gender neutral mc #leviathan x reader #leviathan x gender neutral reader #obey me kinktober #i dont actually like handjobs fun fact idk why this has been two prompts in a row that im wiritng about them #srry this is so late #not really. im not sorry. you get what you get #so sick of reading over this i dont care if it sux #house word salad

[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

[tamhrayis]

I brought a theory from Reddit.

Disclaimer:

I am here to not disrespect the author by any means. I simply have questions as a person who is reading it and pointed out which parts are confusing. It’s up to you to believe this theory or not.

What’s more, reborn Ymir will be in the same position as 2000 years ago – the Founding Titan's shifter. BUT, this time she's free. Therefore, once she pops out and gets her abilities back, she can do whatever she wants with them. She no longer needs to be commanded by royals, which gives her the ideal opportunity to conclude everything. [How does Eren know that an infant can assist him in such an endeavour?]

Well...Ymir was definitely not free, but Ymir wasn’t born with her abilities. She got them because of hallucigenia attached to her back when she fell into that water in the tree. She wasn’t born special.

Another point. How Ymir being born with titan powers will stop the cycle of hatred?

Zeke’s death was a necessary distraction, deliberately included by Isayama to divert our attention. It tricked us into thinking that the baby inheriting Zeke’s titan is relevant as it would help Eren resume the Rumbling. But that’s not the case. The child will indeed inherit the Beast but what’s important here is the baby inheriting the Founder (what Isayama tried to hide behind Zeke’s death). Also, his death served the purpose of stopping the Rumbling as it is not needed anymore. Most of the world's population is already massacred. [What was the point of Zeke dying? Will the baby inherit the Beast Titan?]

Hm...Yeah, Zeke’s death indeed helped to stop the rumbling, because Eren could reach the Paths because of him and killing him stopped the whole process, but why would Isayama make such a distraction at the last third chapter of the whole manga? Shouldn’t he kill Zeke before, so Eren and Historia’s plan would work and it had more screen time?

“In a vision, Eren saw that Ymir will be reborn after his death. He told Historia that he has to figure out which random child will inherit the Founder”. [“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Which vision? Ch.1 or after kissing Historia’s hand? Ch.1 vision was Eren and Mikasa’s shared dream and we still don’t know what exactly Eren saw while kissing Historia’s hand.

Of course it’s safe to say that it was his future memories, but it yet has to be revealed.

Random child. How Eren can predict that the baby will be Historia’s? Does he know how many pregnant women are there on Paradise? Okay, let’s say that it’s FT and Paths magic, but can he control which child will be born with Founder’s powers?

It would also explain why Historia didn't appear in Ch. 138 – if Isayama showed the baby coming out seconds after Mikasa decapitated Eren then it would’ve been obvious what’s going on.[“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Chapters are 45 pages long. Why Isayama didn’t cut out some panels and didn’t put it here? Why not to show it right after the kiss page? Distraction?

Moreover, Ymir is smiling at Eren and Mikasa not simply because she saw affection. Yes, she does care about bonds but another thing could be that Eren's plan downed on her – she connected the dots and figured out that it's now her turn to contribute and complete the mission Eren wordlessly gave her. I believe next chapter will start with her disappearing from inside the Founder's mouth and switch to her being born. [“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Okay! I agree with the part that Ymir smiled at Mikasa and Eren because of the affection they showed to each other and the part that she will contribute to the “mission”.

They showed affection to each other. Why would Eren show affection to Mikasa if he is having a child with the woman he loves?

What about the hallucigenia? Will it still stay there or disappear with her?

Immediately after she cries for the first time, all Eldians will perhaps be summoned in Paths, where Eren will be waiting. To their surprise, he will announce the end of the Titan Age. Then, Ymir will make the command and Paths will begin collapsing. Eren will hold her in his arms as all traces of titans disappear. "You're free." will collectively be directed to Ymir and all of her Subjects. [What will happen after she is reborn?]

Hold on. Can the power of Founder be shared between two people? Is it like One for All? If Ymir was born with FT, doesn’t that mean that Eren no longer has FT, AT and WHT? How Ymir can summon them? She is an infant. She doesn’t have a proper consciousness to purposely summon everyone into Paths. Where AT and WHT will go? To random Eldian children or Ymir?

It has always been suspicious as to why Eren teased Zeke about them not reaching "the part where he eats their old man". It's strange that Grisha gave Eren the power of the titans when beforehand he begged Zeke to stop him. The only logical thing would be that Eren showed him what I described above: the resolution. [What did Eren show Grisha?]

Wait. Why would Grisha be this heartbroken and scared if Eren showed him the resolution? He doesn’t look like crying from happiness. Sure, he was crying because he killed children and others, but why would he look at Zeke like that? He was in literal pain.

What used to be nonsensical before is now super logical. Grisha and Kruger were not helping the Alliance because Armin’s TnJ (talk no jutsu) worked. They aided them because beforehand Eren revealed the truth of what is to come and that they will NEED to kill him in order for Historia’s baby to inherit the Founder. Basically, they didn't feel sympathy for Marley all of a sudden – instead, they were helping Eren in liberating Eldians from titans. [Why did Grisha and Kruger help the Alliance? Why did Ymir revive them if they were going to go against Eren?]

Well...Besides Grisha and Kruger, Marcel, Ymir, Mr. Xavier, Porco and Bertholdt were there. Did they want to help Eren too?

As it has been confirmed by Isayama's notes on Ch. 138, it’s not an AU. So we should probably forget about time loops. It's a dream. Eren entered it (through Paths, duh) as he wanted to convince Mikasa to behead him as fast as possible as they have no time left. Him joining her is why Aaron Yogurt dream Eren got shifter marks on his face and why in Ch. 1, he saw this particular moment. [What’s up with Mikasa’s hallucinations?]

Oh! “A long dream” topic again. I went to the link author put and this is what I see (see below).

Okay, let’s say that he entered it via Paths, but why not to straightforwardly say that? Why to create a dream where they live happily? Why to show this hug, “I want to live with you for the rest of my 4 years”?

I don’t really like the time loop concept myself, because I don’t like time travel stuff, but why then he saw the exact same dream in ch.1? Something is not clicking.

The former will likely return to being humans. There’s no reason for them to disappear as they’re material beings that exist in the physical world – what will be removed is just titanization. Plus, with this, Eren will keep his promise of his friends living long lives. Though, this is something I cannot predict properly and just speculation. The latter will be free from the Curse of Ymir (good luck, Reiner, no dying for you). [What will happen to the titanized Eldians and titan shifters?]

Fully agree! No debate.

There's no question really. I feel like it should be self-explanatory after everything discussed so far. The farmer being Ymir's father would be a more shocking twist than Eren being the dad. [Is it sure that Eren is the father?]

Why wouldn’t Isayama add a plot twist into his story? It’s not hard to do. But Isayama’s plot twists work because he visually foreshadows it or uses characters’ dialogues. He already has showed us farmer. Why he is here? For cover up? Why would Isayama put these words if farmer is unnecessary? Why not to add more information?

To stop the cycle of violence and hate once and for all. If Eren removed titan powers without the Rumbling, most people (especially Marleyans) would’ve still despised Eldians and they would've just been defenseless. So Eren wanted to prevent that. [Why did the Rumbling have to occur?]

I agree with this. Rumbling was a cause for people to work and stop fighting each other as I said here. Rumbling plan was very risky, but it was unavoidable, because Marley is way more advanced and Paradise would terribly lose. Good point!

But why would Historia, who has decided to live for herself agree with Eren’s plan? How would she benefit from it? Okay, she and Historia are in love, but why would she want the person she loves to become a mass murderer? Why she couldn’t stop him? Why she was crying when he told his plan? She is a royal blood after all too! They could come up with another plan which wouldn’t involving Zeke.

I assume it would just die/disappear/go back to the tree it emerged from. [What about hallucigenia?]

Where’s that tree? How it will get there?

In conclusion, the theory isn’t bad, but it would work if Historia and Eren had more set up, the importance of Zeke would be explored a little more here and ch.138 didn’t have clear symbolism between Eren and Mikasa. There’re some holes, but the author gave some good points, which is truly appreciated!

#it’s theory time #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #eremika #zeke jaeger #snk 138 #snk spoilers

[marvel-mistress-padawan]

The Man In The Green Tie (NSFW)

Sometimes Emma hated these formal dinner parties and other times she quite enjoyed them. Tonight was one of those nights that she felt a little of both emotions. She was dressed in her signature white and wore a diamond pendant on a gold chain just in the right place to display her cleavage. It was working. Half the men in the room had noticed her. Of course they noticed all the other beautiful women in the room too. Men were fickle like that. Some of them even went after the plain looking and ugly women, believing they had a better chance with them. Emma didn’t care for hearing all their thoughts of conquest tonight, only the ones concerning her.

Frost International was her Company and this dinner with partners, investors, and associates, was important for future relations. She had met almost everyone here in previous dealings. Everyone except one man. He had longish black hair and wore a black suit with a green tie. He sat at a table with Justin Hammer and some journalist whose name Emma couldn’t remember. All she knew was that the man in green tie was one of the most fascinating men she had ever had the pleasure of ming reading. He wasn’t paying much attention to the women in the room. He noticed them of course, but only briefly. He wasn’t thinking about money or power, in spite of being associated with Justin Hammer and attending her dinner in the first place. No, his thoughts were thoughts of amusement at being able to deceive Justin Hammer so thoroughly. He had only one weapon to sell. There were none in production, no test models or protypes, just the one, and Hammer was willing to pay a signifigant amount for a supply that did not exist.

Emma got down from her place at the bar and approached Hammer’s table, making sure that her slinky white dress still clung to her in all the right places.

“Miss Frost?” Justin looked up as she stopped at his table. “It’s a pleasure to see you here tonight.”

“Mind if I join you?” Emma didn’t wait for his reply. Justin wanted her to go away and not ruin his business deal. She wasn’t going anywhere. She pulled up a chair. “Those barstools do a number on a girl’s ass,” she said, waiting to see if either of them would look. “Your little table over here looked so much more comfortable. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Emma,” she offered her hand to the stranger in the green tie.

To Emma surprise, the stranger did not take the opportunity to look at her backside. In fact he mentally told himself not to. Instead he took her hand and he kissed it like a true gentleman. What shocked her even more was that she actually felt something in response to his polite manners.

“My name is Lucas Olsen,” he told her with such sincerity that had she not been a telepath she might have believed it was true. Lucas wasn’t his name. He was thinking about his name. It was Loki. He was not human. “This is a lovely party you’ve created here,” he told her.

Most men would have made a point to say something about Emma herself being lovely as well. Loki didn’t. He didn’t even think it. Emma couldn’t figure out why that irked her so much. It wasn’t that he didn’t think her pretty. He was as distracted by the placement of her diamond necklace as Hammer was. He wasn’t lacking in confidence like some of the men in the room and yet he did not pursue her. Why?

“I appreciate the sentiment but I wouldn’t call it lovely. It’s an unfortunate necessity of this business. I can think of a lot of things more fun to do on a night like this,” Emma told them, her gaze entirely on Loki.

“One ought not mix business and pleasure,” Loki said with a hint of a smile. He had understood her insinuation and was more interested in playing hard to get than in chasing after her.

“W-what things?” Hammer spoke up. “What fun things would you do?”

It was in that moment that Loki thought Hammer to be a sad pathetic little man who wouldn’t know how to win a woman if she were handed to him. The journalist who sat with them, and whom Emma had neglected to greet, got up uncomfortably and left. Emma wished that Hammer would do the same.

“You’re an inventor Hammer. I’m sure you could think of something,” Emma barely disguised her annoyance.

“Well, I’m usually too busy to do much of anything fun. That’s part of being a hard working, stable...single...American,” he said, trailing off and failing to deliver his intended confidence.

“Plenty of hard working Americans know how to have fun. Maybe you’re just a buzzkill,” she told him. It wasn’t nice but she wasn’t known for being nice. “Maybe you’d like to get me a drink?”

Insulted, Hammer got up and left. He didn’t come back.

“I would say that was a little harsh but…” Loki began.

“But you don’t like him any more than I do,” Emma knew it to be the truth.

“I may not like him but he is still useful,” Loki said with a shrug.

“You know what else is useful?” Emma crossed her legs beneath the table and allowed the foot of her open toed shoe to touch his leg. “A little rest and relaxation, don’t you think?”

Loki did not respond to her touch as she expected. Oh he was interested but there was something of amusement in his response. Maybe it was because he was alien. Maybe his people couldn’t be expected to respond like humans.

“I suppose we could all do with a diversion here and there,” he agreed.

It was then that his thoughts became clear. He knew. He knew she was a telepath. He knew she was toying with him, and he was toying with her just as much in return.

“How did you…?” Emma began. This had never happened to her before. She had always been the one in power over men. Her beauty and her ability to read minds, her education as a sex therapist had given her a distinct advantage. And now this gorgeous man was playing her?

Loki smiled. “I have certain abilities. I may not be able to read a person’s thoughts from moment to moment but I can see their memories if I touch them. You gave me your hand and from there I knew the truth of it.”

“Then why didn’t I realize that until now? How are you able to block out at least some of my telepathic abilities?”

“Magic,” he said simply.

“So you can read memories, and do magic? Anything else?”

“It’s a rather long list,” he said demurely.

“Fuck,” she muttered. This was all falling apart now. It had been six months since she’d taken a man to bed. Most of them had been too stupid and self centered to bother with. After six months she was starting to get desperate but not so desperate that anyone would do. She had thought when she came to Hammer’s table to meet his friend that her chance had finally come. Apparently she’d be spending another night alone.

Loki raised an eyebrow at her word. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

For the first time in years, Emma found herself blushing over something a man had said to her.

“Should I take your blushing as a yes?” he asked her.

Emma felt entirely out of place in this scenario. Never in her life had she been deposed of her power like this. And yet she couldn’t say that she hated it. Not at all. “Yes,” she said, all her hesitation ended. “How about a dance first?”

Loki led her out onto the dance floor and he turned out to be an expert dancer. He pulled her rather close to himself and took in a breath. She had never danced with anyone without knowing his every thought and desire. Some of Loki’s thoughts broke through but they were vague and even unclear. She had never felt so powerless, never so anxious, and certainly never so intensely turned on.

When the song hand ended Emma went to the bar and downed a drink. She wanted this, but it was so weird that she definitely needed a drink. Loki followed her and watched her with concern.

“If you’re not ready, there’s no need to rush,” he told her.

Emma spun on her heel to face him. He was being polite. He was truly concerned that he might be pushing too much too quickly and was too well mannered to do that to any woman, despite his desires. Emma dropped the glass in her hand and it shattered at her feet. Such kindness was rare in the men she had met. This one was dangerous. She had picked up that much from his thoughts, but he had standards. He would not harm a lady. She wasn’t accustomed to being thought of as anything other than an object to be lusted after and yet this man would never treat her as such.

“No, I am ready,” she said, stepping over the glass to return to him on the dancefloor.

The second dance was slower this time and both of his hands rested on her backside. She wrapped one arm around his neck and pressed close enough that she could feel his hardness against her center. The entire dance was not appropriate for a business dinner but she lacked the ability to care. It had been so long and he was more enticing than any dance partner she had ever stood across from. He leaned close enough that his breath was warm against her neck and Emma felt wetness between her legs.

The song came to an end all to quick and the sound of tinkling glass broke apart the few couples dancing. Charles Blake her CFO was making an announcement. She had forgotten that she had requested for Charles to do this speech. It was going to take a good twenty minutes followed by a formal dinner being served.

“I can’t leave, probably not for hours,” Emma said, frustrated. “I did set this up after all.”

“There’s no need to leave,” Loki told her. “I can give you exactly what you want, right here.”

“I’m not sure I can be that discreet,” she said, an eyebrow raised. “Not in this dress.”

“Who cares about the dress?” Loki said. “You’re a telepath. I have magic. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Her jaw dropped open. “You mean…?”

He nodded. “You sit at your table and I’ll sit at mine. No one will be the wiser.”

Emma went back to her seat at the bar and Loki back to his table where Hammer had been. She was barely seated when the thoughts began to hit her. Not just thoughts but images and sensations, very real sensations. This was going to be more complicated than she had thought.

It seemed as if Emma were no longer in the banquet room at all but instead in a bedroom with large open windows to a view of a world she had never seen. Loki’s homeworld. It was so real that she could smell a far off ocean breeze as well as the same scent she had smelled on his collar when she danced with him. He took her hand and pulled her to the bed, unzipping the back of her dress and letting it drop to the floor. Then he was kissing her. It felt so entirely real that Emma worried she wasn’t remaining still in the real world.

Emma worked on pulling off his clothes while he kissed her starting with the green necktie. His hands were on her breasts, his tongue in her mouth and Emma had every intention of pushing him over and climbing astride him. He gently pushed her back and crawled atop of her, resting his weight on his elbows and continuing to kiss her. She lifted her hips to encourage him to continue. She had waited so long for this that she didn’t need further preparation. She was already so wet, so needy, that she didn’t want to wait a moment longer. He pushed his way inside her and she let out a moan. He went still.

“Oh god don’t stop!” she told him, desperate for friction.

Loki grinned a little at her plea but he heeded her words and started moving again. He moved in and out of her slowly at first and Emma sought his mouth for more kisses. He gave them to her and then he moved to kiss down her jawline and her neck and beneath her earlobe. His pace increased and she lifted her hips a little higher to find her center of pleasure.

“Harder?” she asked of him and he gladly obliged, plunging into her deeper and harder than before.

Emma could not stop the moans that came from her and they were only increased by hearing his grunts of pleasure. Then the moment came when she could finally let go of the building tension. Her body pulsated in relief.

Emma came to herself and found she was still in the banquet room. Charles was still going on and on about financial matters and no one in the room was aware of what had just transpired in her mind. She had apparently kept still and silent. The stool beneath her was a little wet where she sat. Her eyes met Loki’s across the room and he grinned knowingly. Emma suddenly felt warm and she reached for a folded paper dinner program to fan herself with. Loki smiled more broadly at her flush face and she wanted to slap him as much as she wanted to laugh.

Once Charles had finished his little speech, Loki crossed the room and sat next to her at the bar.

“I can’t actually stay long tonight. Now that I’m done with Hammer, I’ll be leaving. I know where to find you though. My mind can reach across great distances, if that’s something you wanted anyway?” he asked her.

Emma bit her lip, intrigued by his offer. A telepathic lover? “I don’t want to wait six months until the next encounter..”

“Believe me, you won’t,” he told her.

“And you’re going to send me telepathic flowers and chocolate?” she teased.

“I don’t think I’ll have to,” he leaned into her space and placed a kiss, not on her lips but on her forehead. “Goodnight Emma Frost, until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again,” she told him as she watched him go, shaking her head at herself. Somehow, his green necktie was still in her hand.

#mcu #x men fanfiction #loki #emma frost #smut #telepathic sex #justin hammer #marvel crossover #marvel comics

[crystalrose555]

Slap me, I dare you! pt. 1

“Come on, Marley~” A small voice begged.

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

“But you gotta finish your story!” Another voice demanded.

“Nope, the next part is too scary for little seals. I’ll finish the story when you’re older.”

“Liar!”

Marley stuck her tongue out as the sound of little feet followed her to the living room. It’s been around a month since she returned from her adventure in Devildom and the pups refused to let go of the enticing story she started. While she had stretched the truth and sugarcoated what she could, Marley couldn’t bring herself to talk about everything that happened, she barely could understand it herself. She sighed as she tossed herself on the couch next to her new pelt, giving it a gingered rub before grabbing a clean shirt from the laundry bin. However, she was smothered by the pups that invaded her personal space which caused her to release a large sigh.

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll just have to get the rest of the story from Nixie.” Gell, the oldest, claimed plainly.

“Good luck with that since I didn’t tell Nixie the ending either.” She snorted.

She soon found herself surrounded by the booing of various tones which started to grind against her nerves.

“Knock it off! If you’re not going to help with the laundry then go for a swim and cool your heads!” She commanded firmly pointing to the backdoor.

“Fine, but you’re gonna have to tell us the rest eventually.” Rem, the second oldest claimed while Gell herded the younglings from the room.

“Make sure the little ones don’t go too far from shore and keep an eye out for humans. I’m counting on you boys.”

“Yeah, yeah, what else is new?” Gell called out with a snort as he led the others to the back door.

Once she heard the back door close, Marley sighed heavily in relief.

“Finally, geez, they’re worse than seagulls.” She mumbled as she tried to fold laundry once more.

Suddenly, a hearty knock echoed from the front door, causing Marley to flatten on the couch with a huff, grabbing her pelt.

“Of course, because why not.” She groaned before peeling herself off the couch to answer the door.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you think she’ll ever tell us what happened to her?” Rem asked with a sigh as he dug his feet into the warm sand.

“I doubt it.” Gell answered while staring at the younglings playing in the waves.

“I mean, I know she makes up stories to tell us but do you really think she was kidnapped by demons?”

Gell just scoffed as his brother gave a snarky smirk in his direction. He then rested his head in the palm of his hand.

“Yeah right, she probably got caught by some poachers or drunk sailors and had to fight her way off the boat.”

Rem snorted out a laugh in response.

“Or she was fighting a Kraken while doing a deep dive.” He managed to chuckle out.

“Nah, if she did, we would still be eating calamari. On top of that, when was the last time she came home empty-handed?”

“But she didn’t, she got that new pelt, remember?”

Gell sighed before turning to his brother.

“Then where’s her old one? What happened to it? Have you ever heard about a selkie getting a new pelt before? Let alone one that looks that strange.”

Rem blinked in disbelief.

“Woah, you’ve been really thinking about this.”

Gell sighed as he scratched his head through his thick hair. Rem patted his brother on the shoulder and gave a light smile.

“Come on, don’t think too hard about it. Let’s just let Nixie handle it. It’s not like she’s crying for help or something.”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

The boys suddenly jumped from their seats as Marley’s loud protest penetrated the house’s walls. Wasting no time, Gell told his brother to wait with the others as he rushed into the house from the back door. In a huff, he scanned the living room and headed toward the front door to see Marley tossed over the shoulder of a blue cloaked figure, banging on his back furiously. Cursing at him to put her down, the stranger simply scoffed as he headed out the door. Gell stood frozen as Marley continued to curse at the black-haired stranger who looked back at her with crimson eyes. His knees nearly gave out from underneath him as he tried to charge forward to help his guardian but he lost his steam as a rush of black feathers blocked his vision. Once the torrent was over, nothing was left but a single black feather laying in the door frame. His knees buckled in as he dropped to the floor and reached for the large feather with a shaky hand.

“Gell, Gell! What’s going on?!” Rem yelled from the back door to his brother.

“Demons are real!!!” Gell answered back with a shrill wail.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Put me down already!” Marley screamed in Lucifer’s ear.

“Gladly.” Lucifer answered as he roughly dropped her on the chair in his office.

Marley rubbed her bottom gingerly while Lucifer crossed his arms and stared at her with steel-like eyes.

“What the hell, Lucifer!? Who stuffed a bee in your collar!?” She protested loudly.

Lucifer didn’t answer, instead, his form slowly shifted as his clothing turned black and his horns pierced his ebony hair. His demonic aura crept upon the floor and encased the ground beneath Marley’s chair in jet-black shadow. Looking down at her feet and taking in the warping surroundings, Marley returned her vision to the now winged demon in front of her. Reading the room, Marley crossed her legs and pulled down her oversized hoodie before addressing Lucifer.

“You seem upset.” She calmly pointed out.

“Upset doesn’t begin to describe how I felt in the past month. Livid is a better word to use.”

“Hmm, I see. Well, it must have been very stressful.”

“You can say that.”

Marley smoothly got up from her seat and took in a gentle breath.

“Well, it’s been wonderful to see you again, give your brothers my love and you can send me back now.”

“Not a chance, especially considering the stunt you’ve pulled upon your first departure.”

“Come on, I have laundry and I want to fold it while it’s still warm.” Marley whined as her shoulders slumped.

“Is that truly your main concern right now!?” Lucifer hissed as his aura grew darker.

“Yeah, considering that I was kidnapped from my home this time! Seriously, what’s with the kidnapping, what the fuck is wrong with a letter!?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“I’m not changing the subject, I’m just getting to the subtext!”

At this point, Lucifer and Marley’s conversation devolved from yelling to inhuman noises that echoed in the office. Since neither refused to budge, their base instincts came to the surface in the form of demonic growling and seal barking. Unfortunately, the sound of conflict spilled out of the room and attracted unwanted attention as a group of demon brothers poured themselves into the room. Marley turned her gaze only to be engulfed in layers of arguing demons.

“Get off of me, I was here first!” Levi claimed as he tried to push Mammon and Asmo away.

“Like hell, nerd! I ain’t got a chance to hang out with her yet!” Mammon hissed as he pushed back.

Asmo just took the opportunity to hold her closer, kissing her cheeks over and over.

“Mochi, I missed you soooo much, I’ve been so lonely without you~” Asmo cooed between kisses.

“Oi, get your hands off of her, Asmo! Don’t think you can run off with her!” Mammon yelled.

“Yeah, besides I’m her first demon and I get first dibs!” Levi added.

Satan kept close to the door as he watched his brothers tugging the surprised selkie back and forth between them. Finally having enough, an annoyed Marley released a wave of cold that repelled Asmo and Mammon, leaving Levi grasping onto her stubbornly.

“S-See? I’m the w-winner!” Levi claimed through his chattering teeth at his pouting brothers.

“You too, Geek Boy.” Marley claimed flatly as she lowered the temperature again, causing Levi to pull away to warm himself up.

The trio stared at her with puppy eyes only to receive a cold stern glare in return.

“Don’t give me that look, I’ve already had to deal with enough of that today!” She barked at the pouting demons.

She turned her attention back to the eldest brother who remained unfazed from the sudden cold.

“Send me back now, Lucy, and if my bedsheets get wrinkled, I swear to God.” Marley threatened slowly.

Lucifer didn’t even get a chance to respond before his brothers forced their opinions out in the open.

“W-wait, you’re going back already?” Levi questioned with big eyes.

“But you just got back here and you were gone forever!” Mammon added.

“Yeah, there’s so much we need to talk about, Mochi~” Asmo whined.

Marley snapped her gaze back to the trio with a surprised expression.

“I’ve. Been. Gone. For a month! What have you all been doing since I left?”

“Waiting for you to get back...” The trio said in a united pout.

Marley rolled her eyes as she turned back to the waiting Lucifer. Eventually, the trio began to beg Lucifer to let her stay while finding themselves clinging to Marley’s body once more. As the volume continued to rise, Lucifer’s anger began to boil to the point where his dark aura finally overtook the room and grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Can we focus on the true matter of hand?” He claimed coldly.

“And that would be?” She asked.

“Your sudden departure message, the picture that you decided to post on Devilgram.” Lucifer growled.

Marley thought for a moment to remember the picture before a genuine look of surprise came across her face.

“That’s why you have your panties in a bunch? For a picture? On the internet!?”

“It wasn’t a normal picture and you know that.”

Marley snorted out air as she turned her gaze away from the angered demon.

“Ok, so what? I put my pic on Devilgram, big deal.”

“You posted it on Lord Diavolo’s Devilgram, it’s a very big deal!”

Marley just tossed her arms in the air and scoffed at the issue, showing more concern for her laundry than the prince’s profile. Reading her expression, Lucifer’s rage peaked only to break away to an eerie calm that washed over his being. Seeing this, Marley stood on guard of the demon who put away his blackened wings and horns and took out a cold smile.

“What’s with that smile on your face, Lucifer?”

“I’m just thinking about how much school work you have to catch up on.”

“Excuse me?”

“You left in the middle of the term, without notice, so you have to make up all of the missed assignments. And you better maintain those impressive grades you’ve earned while you were sliding around. So you’re not going anywhere until it’s all finished.”

“EXCUSE ME!!?” Marley repeated louder.

However, her concerns were drowned out by the excited shrieks of the clinging demons on her body, all excited by the fact she would be living with them once more.

“Aww, Mochi, you get to live with us again~” Asmo chimed with his brothers in agreement.

“We have so many anime and manga to catch up on, not to mention the behind-the-scenes and director’s cut!” Levi added.

“BUT MY FUCKING LAUNDRY!!!” She screamed.

#obey me shall we date #obey me shall we date? #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me levi #levi #asmo #satan #mammon #lucifer #obey me oc #obey me fanfic #mochi story fanfic #selkie #obey me mc

[vegalocity]

The Story (red groom AU)

I wasn't gonna make you guys suffer too long with the Bad End Alternate end lol, here have a more comedic part of the Princess Bride AU, picks up directly after the last part

--

“Grandpaaaaa you said you'd skip over the kissing stuff!”

“Sheesh! Complain complain! You know one day you're gonna WANT to start kissin' people and parts like this 'll be WAY more interesting to you!”

“Gross!”

“Fine fine! To tell the truth, the big romantic gesture of the Prince reuniting with his love Qi Xiaotian was rather short lived, you'll remember Prince Red Son had quite the temper and though his true rage had been quelled by the realization that Xiaotian had been alive this whole time, the prince had plenty more to be angry with him over-”

–

“WHY! DID! YOU! NEVER! SEND! WORD!” every word was punctuated by a smack to Xiaotian's shoulder as the two of them began to venture through the forest, in attempts to shake Red Son's likely murderous fiance while at the same time make their way to safety. “I! THOUGHT! YOU! DEAD! I! MOURNED! YOU! FOR! TWO! WHOLE! YEARS!”

Xiaotian was taking the assault with good humor, Red Son's anger was second to none, but his body was still weak from his attempt attack him earlier and with little strength in his limbs from burn wounds abound Xiaotian was carrying him through the forest, so his blows were barely inspiring feeling let alone pain.

“And I'll be apologizing for that in everything I do for another ten.” He agreed as Red Son paused for breath, turning his head to nudge Red Son's cheek with his nose. “and for every tear you've shed over it I swear to make you laugh ten times more.”

The Prince turned as red as his hair at such a declaration before stiffly reaching upward to pull a thin branch out of the way of hitting either of them as they continued on their path.

“...Why are you taking the Monkey King's title? Was the whole story they told back home a lie?”

“...Well it wasn't entirely a lie- oh thank you.”

“I did meet the Monkey King, he was just as great as the stories say.” the sun glistened in Xiaotian's eyes as he began the story.

“But I'd kindaaaa been kidnapped by some bandits at the time and was next on the menu when they'd ran into Sun Wukong's caravan. Eating ME was set aside at the opportunity to eat Tang Sanzang instead, but like, what, was I gonna let a bunch of jerks EAT the Golden Cicada? So I helped him escape just as Sun Wukong broke down the doors to their stronghold to rescue his master.

“This is the part that was truthful, since Sun Wukong thought I was another bandit and was gearing up to take care of me too, I pleaded my case, said 'please' to him and got his curiosity. I don't think he belived me, but his master took then to speak up and insist I was honest, as I'd helped free him.

“He still didn't trust me, but since I had nowhere else to go I ended up traveling with them for a small bit of time. With his true sight Sun Wukong knew I was human, but that didn't mean he knew if I was a threat or not, which... you know... fair... But I helped them a couple more times for when their master was stolen by other demon lords looking to make a meal out of him- and hoo boy aren't we lucky that your dad is smarter than to pick a fight with the Monkey King because seeing him fight up close is... wow...”

“Don't underestimate my father Noodle Boy.” Red Son responded reflexively.

“Haha, sorry. But anyway, one day Sun Wukong pulls me aside, still in view of his brothers and master so I don't think he's gonna kill me or anything, but... like... yeah I'm expecting him to tell me I'd overstayed my welcome with their traveling party and it was time for me to get lost.” He set Red Son down on the side of a massive tree trunk to hop the short distance to the ground and lifting him back up. “So imagine my surprise when the first thing out of his mouth is 'How would you like to be the Great Sage Equaling Heaven?'”

Red Son's expression dropped, surprise raising his brow. Xiaotian chuckled. “Yeah that was my reaction too. But he says that he'd been keeping an eye on me, and he could tell I was someone 'reliable' which... you know if he'd ever spoken to my father that would be a short lived assessment, but I digress. He tells me that right now he's just really focused on getting his master where he needs to go, and he's constantly getting kidnapped and making his job harder, but even harder still it gets when people recognize him and from his reputation tailor their kidnappings just to aggravate him in specific. How at this juncture, no matter how much it pleased him to know his name still brought fear into his enemies, it was doing him more harm than good.”

“So he gave me this and taught me to use it.” he nods to the staff “Honestly it's just a really well made fake, enchanted to still grow and shrink at will, but he needs his staff to protect his master, so it has to do.”

“B-But! What about the village? If The Monke- if Sun Wukong is on the pilgrimmage still then where did that story come from?”

“Oh that village was long abandoned: plague... but an excellent background for theatrics! And to test out my acting chops! Here check this out!”he placed Red Son down again, this time he had the strength (barely) to remain on his feet if leaned against a tree trunk.

Xiaotian cleared his throat “Okay, so Sun Wukong had shapeshifted into a bug, and he was hiding in Tang Sanzang's cassock, he was standing about- there...” he gestured toward Red Son before hopping up atop a felled tree trunk. “And I was here, but like, on top of a burning house because I can't summon the cloud, which is a shame because that would have been so much more visually striking. Anyway, I was in that form I was in earlier, oh uh- Change!” a puff of smoke and he looked the part of a dark furred macaque again. “and-” he cleared his throat again, puffed out his chest, and leaned into that persona that had made him so unrecognizable to Red Son hours ago.

Now he found himself a fool because he couldn't miss the excited gleam in Xiaotian's eye showing how eager he was to pretend for a time to be his hero that revealed the truth with an ease so clear it was almost staggering.

“You great bunch of fools! Did you really think I'd remain loyal upon the removal of that wretched circlet?! Did you really think that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven would ever fall into anyone's lines but his own?! Truly monk you are the greatest fool of them all! I shall spare your lives for no matter how delightful slaughtering you all would be I'd rather be rid of you fools far sooner than that would allow! But Know this Monk! Every drop of blood spilled by my hand could have been avoided if you were less of a trusting fool!” He cackled and slammed his false-staff into the ground, flipping into the air once. “-except I did that off the roof and vanished into the trees. I think I made quite the exit.”

“... So it was all a ruse?”

“Well, I've been the Monkey King ever since. The Heavenly court know what happened so nobody's been giving me any trouble upstairs so long as I don't go power crazy and go on a rampage or something which... yeah probably not...” he chuckled and returned back to Red Son's side.

“So you think 'the Great Sage Equal to Heaven' is a fancy enough title for your parents to approve of a courtship? Sun Wukong used to be allies with your family, might ease things a bit.”

Red Son couldn't fight off the smile. “My parents will likely know you're not the 'original' Monkey King. You're gonna have to explain it to them.”

“My love I'll sit through hours of cross examinations to get to ask for your hand in the proper way.” Xiaotian took Red Son's least damaged hand in one of his own and pressed a kiss to the knuckles there. Red Son pushed away from him and began to take a few shaky steps forward.

“I'm still plenty angry at you for letting me think you dead... But I suppose I understand the safety issue that would have arisen if a letter containing that information was intercepted.”

He was very pointedly NOT looking at the big grin Xiaotian was sending him, as if he did he would be overwhelmed again by joy at his love being with him again, and he would like to cling to his frustration a bit longer, as then he wouldn't be a useless giddy mess who desired nothing but to press kiss after kiss to that face and listen to every story from every single day he'd missed.

There was time for that later, when they were safe. They'd have all the time in the world for all the stories there were to tell and all the affections there were to share.

But they weren't safe yet.

As evidenced by the shaking step forward Red Son took that immediately gave way beneath him, and he fell into a sinkhole.

#Red groom AU #spicynoodleshipping #vega writes stories too #Princess Bride AU #LMK

[mageofseven]

I love reading your head cannons and I look forward to getting a new one every day! I wanted to ask if I can get a poly!mc who confesses and dates Simeon and Barbatos? I hope you stay safe and continue to write head cannons! Thanks a bunch 😊

Aww, I'm glad you like them! And hmm. I had to think about this one for a bit since such a dynamic is a difficult one to pull off because of how I see the situation with Simeon. Since he's an angel, relationships with humans are against the rules so in scenarios when he and MC date, it has to be kept a secret from others.

This is what makes poly relationships with him difficult because in order for it to be a true and healthy poly relationship, the third person would have to know that MC is also dating Simeon or it would just be the human cheating on them.

However, I believe I have found a decent way to make a Simeon x MC x Barbatos relationship work out.

Starting Point:

MC and Simeon had already been in a relationship for a while at this point, not that anyone knew this fact.

Because Simeon is an angel, such a relationship with a human is seen as a taboo and if people found out, the news could eventually trickle back up to the Celestial realm and no good would come from it.

Because of this, the couple had to be really careful about when they spent time together

And when they spent time together while around others, they had to keep each other at arms length.

It was a sad situation for the two.

Luckily, things took a positive turn. Granted, in one of the last ways they thought would benefit them, but still.

Lord Diavolo had hosted a party so most of the Devildom was there, including the Brothers and the exchange students.

It was hard for the couple find time to break away from the group when the Brothers hovered around MC so much, but eventually the two found an opportunity to split away.

The two found themselves on a balcony connected to a vacant side room. The two mostly stood close, staring up at the night sky, and talking.

However, they also shared a kiss--and pulled back in time just to find Diavolo standing at the entryway

And looking thrilled.

Apparently, he heard Lucifer asking Mammon where MC went of to and the second brother didn't have an answer.

Curious, the prince went off to check for himself

Though he never expected this.

While the couple was visibly tense, Diavolo went and patted them both on the back, saying they make a cute couple.

Don't get it wrong though, the man understands exactly why the two are so anxious; he knows all too well about the Celestial rule forbidding angels and humans from being together. After all, that rule indirectly brought him Lucifer.

And so from that night on, the couple had the prince's unwavering support, which ends up being more valuable than they suspected.

Originally, the couple couldn't spend time together a lot in order to keep others from suspecting things, but Lord Diavolo had a solution: letting them borrow Barbatos.

Basically, his thought process was that the two spending time together is only suspicious when it's just the two of them. Therefore, two different situations arose: one where the couple was joined by Barb and it seemed more like three friends spending time together and another where MC simply says they're going to spend time with Barbatos, but instead has his help to find a private place for them to meet Simeon to have time for just the two of them.

This went on for months and honestly, the couple and Barbatos really did bond during this time. The butler may have been asked to by Diavolo, but he was still putting in the work to help and the couple appreciated it.

MC and Barbatos even spent some genuine time together--not lying and telling others that they were going to hang out with him, but actually spending time together.

The human honestly cannot place that exact moment where they fell for the butler; only that when they discovered their feelings, they fell into a pit of self-hatred.

I mean, they still love Simeon. Simeon is everything to them and is risking his freedom, possibly even his life to be with them. Yet they now have feelings for Barb? MC was afraid of hurting their boyfriend with this.

Plus, Barb is just their friend. Surely he'd be uncomfortable to hear that they developed feelings for them.

Apparently not.

The butler had noticed the human's anxious and low mood as of late and grew concerned.

Usually, the man wasn't a fan of using his future vision, preferring to instead let life unfold in front of him naturally

However, MC had not wanted to discuss what was bothering them so the demon took matters into his own hands and checked to see if they discussed it with him in any other timelines.

That's how he discovered the human's feelings for him...and the man was honestly unsure of how to proceed.

Barbatos held similar feelings for MC, but out of respect for them and Simeon, the butler kept them to himself. So to hear that they felt the same way? How was the man suppose to continue with this knowledge?

His answer was to look deeper into other timelines. It seemed that there were just as many where all three of them could be happy as there were with things falling apart.

It was a gamble...but he told MC all of it. How he felt. How he knew they felt the same. Of the futures he saw.

The human was so panicked and hurt to have the truth out in the open like that, but Barb assured them that he'll do whatever they want; he reminded them that there are futures of the three of them together and happy however.

So that lead the two to tell the angel. MC was so scared and Simeon could tell. He brought his Feather in for a hug and promised that everything will be alright, that he can handle whatever it is.

When MC told him that she held feelings for Barbatos while still loving him, the angel's heart deflated a bit. That was far from anything he thought they would say

But he saw the tears in his Lamb's eyes and still felt the love within them. MC truly still loved him and did not want to lose him.

The angel gave gentle kisses to their cheeks, kissing away their tears.

"My Feather, it's alright. Shh."

He told them that he understood. He knew human culture enough to know that sometimes they can love more than one person in this way and that some choose to have not-so monogamous relationships.

Simeon made sure they know that he doesn't love them any less for this and that if they want to date Barbatos as well then he'd accept it.

Dynamics:

Their poly relationship operates as a vee, not a triad. This is because I honestly cannot imagine Simeon having romantic feelings for more than one person.

However, he and Barbatos do become good friends with the same goal: make MC happy.

The three essentially keep the same habits as before, but with new feelings and labels for it all.

Just as before, the three spend time together, but now they refer to them as group dates, at least to each other.

They also both have their separate dates with their human and Barbatos still helps set up a private setting for the two.

Though they have no reason to hide it, neither Barbatos nor MC had any plans to mention that they are dating to others. It simply never occurred to them. MC was just so used to their love life being shadowed in secrecy at this point and Barbatos is just a naturally private person.

No one knew till Barbatos asked Diavolo for a day off, something the man has never done in all his years of serving his lord, and when the prince asked why, the butler simply said that MC wanted to him to take them out to the opening night of this musical they've looking forward to for their next date

And the prince was estatic, asking his butler a million and one question. When did this happen? How long have the two of them been dating?

The prince didn't even bat an eyelash at the fact the butler and angel were both dating MC; in the Devildom, poly relationships were pretty normal.

In fact, he loved that both of them were dating the human. People of all three realms, coming together for love? They were like walking symbols of everything the prince wished to accomplish with his exchange program!

This is how the brothers found out--through the excited prince. Luckily, Diavolo still kept MC's relationship with Simeon a secret.

This actually worked to their advantage. People didn't suspect that anything could be between them and Simeon now that they knew MC was dating Barb, giving the human and angel a bit more freedom with their own time together.

MC feels a sense of balance with both of their boyfriends, one that they lacked before.

Simeon's gentle touches and soft assurance calm their heart

While Barbatos' self-assured manner and helpful ways calm their mind to any troubles that arise.

With the two of them, the human feels so safe, secure, and loved for the first time in a long time.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me mc #obey me poly!mc #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos

[mists-of-hithlum]

TW: Non-graphic character death

They call her marred.

Finduilas has lived her whole life with those words whispered behind her back, gossiped over when she’s out of the room and sometimes even openly discussed when her family isn’t there to protect her. Her father has told her she should just ignore them.

“They just don’t understand how the Valar work,” he tells her. “Just because you haven’t found your partner on these shores yet, doesn’t mean anything about you. Maybe they haven’t been born yet.” He smiles. “Or you are like your aunt Artanis and your partner waits for you on the other shore. And you wouldn’t call her marred, would you?”

He is right, of course. They are all right. It’s not like their family isn’t the subject of too many rumours already. Her father knows exactly how it feels when people whisper about you behind your back.

But somehow, this is different. It is personal. It is against her, not against the circumstances of her birth or who her grandfather chose as his partner. It isn’t like the rumours the bored nobles of Tirion like to circulate about Indis and what she did to earn a place at Finwe’s side or how Arafinwe’s children and grandchildren shouldn’t count as real Noldor. They hurt too, of course, but when they call her, Finduilas, daugther of Artaresto, a flaw in the music, it cuts deeper.

Especially because they are right.

She debates herself over and over if she should ask Fëanaro about the rumours. He is the only other one in the family they single out too. But everytime she is either too afraid of his famous temper or another rumour makes her doubt again. What they say about him is so much worse than what they say to her, so she doesn’t. She shouldn’t trouble him with such trivial things.

When darkness falls over Tirion and flames light up eight swords with their light, Finduilas chooses to go even before her parents have said anything. She feels like she’s suffocating here in Tirion, with the gossip chasing her every step. Marred, seem the stones to whisper. Those blank, white stones without a flaw who mock her even in the pale light of candles and torches. Staying here would be a slow, agonizing death only prolonged by the absence of her family. And maybe, a voice in her head whispers, she’ll finally find her other half on the other shore, like her father told her once.

Not even her mother staying and Arafinwë turning back manage to change her decision.

It doesn’t take long for the rumours to start again.

After that first battle and after Findecano’s daring rescue of Maitimo – Maedhros – the gossips stay quiet about her. There are far more interesting things to discuss. But then comes the Mereth Aderthad.

Her father parades her through the entire feast. She cannot find a better word for it. Of course Finduilas knew he wanted her to find her partner. His absolute conviction that someone is waiting for her and he only needed to find them warms her heart on some days. On others, she wants to scream and smash things. She doesn’t need anybody. No matter what the Valar told them about Eru’s plans, how every elf has someone designated for them, she is whole on her own. But the other elves don’t understand and so she grits her teeth and smiles through a thousand introductions, handshakes and empty words.

Just once she gets a moment to herself. When she leaves her father’s side with the flimsy excuse of wanting something refreshing to drink, she can already hear the rumour mill working again. She snorts. For seemingly immortal beings, the elves are awfully obsessed with every little thing that changes.

“Don’t listen to them.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected visitor at her quiet little corner.

“Still as observant as always, cousin,” she greets Mai Maedhros and smiles the first real smile since the start of the feast.

Maedhros raises an eyebrow. “You know our family. Being observant is a survival skill here.”

Finduilas laughs and for a moment she can nearly forget about the scars that now mar her favorite cousin’s face and the hand he is missing. It’s like they are back in Valinor, young and carefree, with nothing to fear.

Maedhros’ next words destroy that illusion quite efficiently. “Don’t listen to them. You aren’t marred or tainted by Morgoth, no matter what they say. Believe me, I would know.”

It takes a lot of Finduilas’ self-control to not get up and smash the nearest tent into pieces because she can’t get to Morgoth right now to avenge her cousin. “I’m trying. I know they are wrong, but they just never stop.”

“And they never will,” Maedhros agrees quietly. “But they don’t matter, pitya tuilë. Someone will always gossip about you behind your back. That is the nature of the court. Your conviction is your armour. They don’t get to decide how you live your life.”

Finduilas raises her chin. “They won’t,” she promises.

A flicker of white fire raises its head behind Maedhros’ eyes. “Good,” he says and disappears the next moment back into the guests.

It is the last time she’ll see her cousin alive. Afterward, a part of her is glad she didn’t need to witness his downfall.

“Finduilas! Here you are!”

After Maedhros left, it doesn’t take her father long to find her again.

“I want you to meet somebody.”

Those dreaded words. But as Maedhros told her: Other people’s opinion of her doesn’t matter. It can’t hurt her.”

So she takes her father’s hand and lets herself be led to a handsome young Noldo with eyes grey like stone. The way his eyes never seem to leave her make her want to roll her eyes. Another one to disappoint then.

“This is Gwindor, son of Guilin,” her father introduces him. “He is one of your uncle Finrod’s people. Gwindor, this is my daughter, Finduilas.”

“Descriptions do not do your beauty justice, my princess,” Gwindor greets her. “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” Finduilas replies politely instead of a snappy retort.

“In truth, you look like the pools of Ivrin when Arien herself shines on them!”

“It is an honor to meet you, Gwindor,” she answers and the hope in her father’s eyes nearly makes her want to throw up.

Once Gwindor gets over his worship of her – and truly, Finduilas isn0t so beautiful, not compared to her other family members – they get along quite well. She discovers his delightful sense of humour and they have great fun mocking the other members of Findarato’s court behind closed doors. Faelivrin, the name Gwindor gave her on their first meeting, becomes a joke between the two of them.

Her father still hopes she will one day discover that she loved Gwindor all along and Finduilas will have to disappoint him once again. She does love Gwindor. She really does. Just not in the sense her father and everybody else seem to want.

Gwindor is alright with this. It was a long, tearful conversation after Finduilas’ armour finally broke down and she told him everything. He accepts her the way she is and he couldn’t give her anything more. In return, he told her about his partner who died crossing the Helcaraxë and how he wants nothing more than what she’s ready to give him either. They never tell anyone else about those things. Their bond is their own and if others want to assume things, they are free to do so.

And then, the Noldor start to lose.

Aegnor and Angrod die first. Then Celegorm and Curufin come, Finrod gives everything up for a stranger and when the tales from the heroics of Beren and Luthien are sung all over Endor, Nargothrond quietly mourns its king. Her father steps up after his brother, but it is never the same.

When Gwindor leaves with his warriors, Finduilas nearly wants to call him back. She doesn’t. She knows why Gwindor needs to do this. He knows why she can’t be at his side. They don’t owe each other more than the other is ready to give.

They part and he doesn’t return. Finduilas knows he isn’t dead and that makes it worse. Their bond isn’t as strong as a marriage bond, isn’t as solid as one of two people who know their feelings for each other, but it was always there. She feels the pain Gwindor goes through even if he tries to shield her from it and she mourns for the elf he was. Even if through a miracle he gets back, he will never be the same again.

Through it all, only the hope of Gwindor one day returning keeps her going. After everything, the whispers have transformed into sharp-edged things meant to hurt. Her armour is strong, but even an armour can’t protect her from everything. Maedhros’ words have always helped her, but they can’t help her when she blames herself too. Maybe she really is marred. After all, everyone she loves leaves.

The miracle she hoped for goes by the name of Agarwaen and carries himself with the aura of a king.

Finduilas isn’t proud of herself for what she does next. But over the years Gwindor was away, the rumours slowly started to become unbearable and the man is right there. He clearly won’t fall in love with her and even if he somehow will, one day, she won’t have ruined him by pretending to be in love. Humans have more than one option in their lives, her uncle once told her. It still seems strange to her but she won’t complain when she gets such an opportunity.

Her father doesn’t look happy, but at least the rumours stop.

Gwindor doesn’t agree with her, but he understands. After their big argument, when he tells her Turin’s true name, they come to a truce. He still loves her and she still loves him. Their bond once again strenghtens when they decide they don’t need to put a name that doesn’t fit on their relationship. When she (badly) pretends to be in love with the human, Gwindor won’t stand in her way.

And really, she doesn’t truly love him. Maybe that’s enough to shield her from the curse.

Later, that misjudgement will cost her everything. Later, she will die alone and afraid on a hill for something out of her control. Later, the history books will paint her as a tragic figure, torn between two men she fell in love with. Later, the people who once couldn’t stop gossiping about her will forget her, an unimportant figure in a much grander history. Later, she will be remembered as the weak-willed child of a weak-willed father, a princess who died with her kingdom.

The history books won’t mention how she didn’t even get to die beside the one she loved.

When she finds herself in the halls of Mandos, she keeps to herself.

Gwindor’s beloved is here. She’s felt him die before her, so he is here too. Now they have a chance at reuniting. No need to ruin their happiness when they still haven’t found out how they truly feel for each other. Nobody on Arda needs a second Finwe-and-Miriel-and-Indis type of situation. Maybe in a couple of centuries, she’ll go and search for them. Right now, they are better off without her.

Finduilas doesn’t get a couple of centuries. She doesn’t even get a month, if her hazy sense of time in those halls can be trusted.

“Here you are! We had search everywhere for you! You aren’t still mad because I ruined your favorite brush, right?”

Finduilas looks up, disbelieving, straight into Gwindor’s grinning face. “Gwindor, you apologized at least a hundred times, got Tyelpë to make me a custom fit new one and that was more than twenty years ago! You can’t possibly believe I’m still mad at you…”

She trails off when his grin only gets wider. “I knew that would get you to talk,” he proclaims, satisfied. “Now get over here and meet my partner. I’m sure you two will get along great.”

Of course he’s right. Tinwë is a delight and she can see why Gwindor fell in love with him so many years ago. Quick-witted, sharp-tongued but surprisingly gentle and an excellent opponent in a discussion mark him as someone they had dire need of in Nargothrond. They’d have so much fun at court.

And maybe, she slowly likes him too. She doesn’t fall in love, just like it was with Gwindor, but there is something between the two of them that just feels right.

Tinwë is it too who finally gets her agonizing feelings for Gwindor sorted out. “You love him,” he says to her once, out of the blue, when they walk together through the endless passageways of Mandos’ halls. “And he loves you. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”

“And what do you think about that?” Finduilas’ voice sounds strong but her hands shake.

He surprises her by turning around. “I love you too,” he says simply. “Not like I love Gwindor, but I love you. You make him happy. He makes me happy. You make me happy too.”

Finduilas has to blink a tear out of her eye when he lays a hand on her shoulder.

“He told me about the things people used to say about you. I don’t think you are marred, Finduilas. I think you are just the way you’re supposed to be. How could you be wrong? If you were different, you wouldn’t be yourself anymore.” He laughs and adds: “Certainly far more boring, that’s for sure!”

And then Gwindor comes and embraces all of them and Finduilas thinks, maybe she was right all along. Why would she need anyone when she’s the happiest she’s ever been right here, right in this moment?

And one day, all three of them walk together out of the halls of Mandos. Finduilas takes a deep breath of clean air, grips Gwindor’s and Tinwë’s hands a bit stronger and for the first time in her whole life, she feels whole.

#finduilas #gwindor #The Silmarillion #the silm #oh sorry maedhros shows up as well #turin and his awful luck are here too #and feanor is mentioned #aspec tolkien #i swear i tried to keep this short #it was also supposed to be something very different from what it ended up being #i'm so sorry #but i hope at least somebody will have fun reading it #have an overly long piece that somehow morphed into a character study for finduilas #that was originally only supposed to be short snippet of aromantic!finduilas #well now i have to make even more headcanons about this 'verse i guess

[rocknvaughn]

New Colin Morgan Interview with Edge Media Network about Benjamin - UPDATED

I am reblogging this because, after the author was made aware of an error in the posting of his article (if anyone clicked through to read it on the site, there was a whole question and answer that was repeated), the error was corrected and another three questions and answers were added! I am correcting it here, but they were very interesting, so I suggest you read the full article again!

I shall post the link at the bottom, but I wanted to type it out so that non-English speakers could more easily translate it. (This article was listed in their “Gay News” section of the site, hence the focus on the gay roles.)

British Actor Colin Morgan: How the Queerly Idiosyncratic ‘Benjamin’ Spoke to Him

by Frank J. Avelia

In writer-director Simon Amstell’s sweet, idiosyncratic, semi-autobiographical comedy, “Benjamin,” Colin Morgan plays the titular character, an insecure filmmaker trying to resuscitate his waning career (at least it’s waning in his mind) after one major cine-indie success. Benjamin is also doing his best to navigate a new relationship with a young French musician (Phenix Brossard of “Departures”).

Thanks to the truly endearing, multifaceted talents of Morgan, Benjamin feels like an authentic creation--one that most audiences can empathize with. Sure, he’s peculiar, has a legion of self-esteem issues and an almost exasperating need for acceptance as well as an inconvenient talent to self-sabotage the good in his life. But who can’t relate to some or all of that?

“Benjamin” is one of the better queer-themed films to come out in recent years, in large part because it eschews emphasis on the queer nature of the story. Instead, the film is a fascinating character study with Morgan slowly revealing layers and unpacking Benjamin’s emotional baggage.

Morgan is a major talent who has been appearing across mediums in Britain for many years. His London theatre debut was in DBC Pierre’s satire, “Vernon God Little” (2007), followed by the stage adaptation of Pedro Almodovar’s “All About My Mother” (2007), opposite Diana Rigg. Numerous and eclectic stage work followed (right up until the Corona shutdown) including Pedro Miguel Rozo’s “Our Private Life” (2011), where he played a bipolar gay, Jez Butterworth’s dark comedy, “Mojo” (2013), Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons” opposite Sally Field (2019), and Caryl Churchill’s “A Number” (2020), to name a few.

His TV work includes, “Merlin” (playing the wizard himself), “Humans” and most recently, in a very memorable episode of “The Crown”. Onscreen he can be seen in “Testament of Youth”, “Legend” with Tom Hardy, “Snow White and the Huntsman” and Rupert Everett’s take on Oscar Wilde, “The Happy Prince.”

He’s played a host of gay roles in the past on stage, screen and TV.

EDGE recently interviewed the star of “Benjamin” about the new film and his career.

Why Benjamin?

EDGE: What drew you to this project and were you part of its development?

Colin Morgan: It’s always the strength of the script for me on any project and Simon’s script was just so well observed, he managed to combine humor and poignancy in delicate measure and when I first read it I found myself being both tickled and touched. Then reading it again and from “the actor” POV... I knew it would be a real challenge and uncharted territory for me to explore. I auditioned for Simon and we tried it in different ways and then when I was lucky enough for Simon to want me on board, we began to work through the script together, because it was clear that this was going to be a very close working relationship... it was important for the level of trust to be high.

EDGE: I appreciated that this was a queer love story where the character’s queerness wasn’t the main focus. Was that also part of the allure of the project?

CM: I think Benjamin’s sexuality is just quite naturally who he is and therefore that’s a given, we’re on his journey to find meaning and love and there’s certainly a freshness to what Simon has written in not making sexuality the main focus.

Great chemistry

EDGE: Can you speak a but about the process involved in working with Amstell on the character and his journey?

CM: Simon and me worked very closely over a period of weeks, at that time prior to shooting I was doing a theatre project not far from where he lived so I would go to him and rehearse and discuss through the whole script all afternoon before going to do the show that night, so that worked out well. It’s so personal to Simon, and to have had him as my guide and source throughout was fantastic because I could ask him all the questions and he could be the best barometer for the truth of the character; a rare opportunity for an actor and one that was so essential for building Benjamin. But ultimately Simon wanted Benjamin to emerge from somewhere inside me and he gave me so much freedom to do that also.

EDGE: You had great chemistry with Phenix Brossard. Did you get to rehearse?

CM: Phenix is fantastic, Simon and me did chemistry reads with a few different actors who were all very good but Phenix just had an extra something we felt Benjamin would be drawn to. We did a little bit of rehearsal together but because it was a relationship that was trying to find itself there was a lot of room for spontaneity and uncertainty between us, which is what the allure of a new relationship is all about, the excitement and fear.

Liberating process

EDGE: Did your process meld with Amstell’s?

CM: I’ve said this a lot before and it’s true, Simon is one of the best directors I’ve worked with. Everything he created before shooting and then maintained on set was special. We always did improvised versions of most scenes and always the scripted version too. It was such a creative and liberating process. That is exactly the way I love to work. And for a director to maintain that level of bravery, trust and experimental play throughout the whole shoot stands as one of the most rewarding shooting experiences I’ve had.

EDGE: When I spoke with Rupert Everett about “The Happy Prince,” he very proudly boasted about his ensemble. Can you speak about working with Rupert as he balanced wearing a number of creative hats?

CM: Again, this was an extremely rewarding project to work on and quite a similar relationship as with Simon in the respect that Rupert was the writer/director and Oscar Wilde is so personal to him. And then we also had many scenes together in front of the camera, so Rupert and me had a real 3D experience together. It was a long time in the making. I was on board, I think, two years before we actually got shooting so I had a lot of time to work with Rupert and rehearse. He really inspired me, watching him wear all the different creative hats, such a challenging and difficult job/jobs to achieve and he really excelled--plus we just got on very well.

Playing queer roles

EDGE: You haven’t shied away from playing queer roles. Do you think we’re moving closer to a time when a person’s sexual orientation is of little consequence to the stories being told, or should it always matter? Or perhaps we need to continue to evolve as a culture for it to matter less or not at all...

CM: That’s a hard question to answer, I think certainly the shift in people’s attitudes has changed considerably for the better compared to 40 years ago, but there will always be resistance to change and acceptance from individuals and groups whether it be sexuality, religion, race, gender--we’re seeing it every day.

Evolution is, of course, inevitable, but if we can learn from the past as we evolve that would be the ideal. Unfortunately, we rarely do learn, and history repeats itself.

EDGE: You were featured prominently in one of my favorite episodes of the “The Crown” (”Bubbikins”) as the fictional journo John Armstrong. Can you speak a bit about working on the show and with the great Jane Lapotaire?

CM: I had an exceptionally good time working on “The Crown.” Director Benjamin Caron, especially, was so prepared and creative, and made the whole experience so welcoming and inclusive. It was an incredibly happy set, with extremely talented people in every department, and I admired the ethos of the whole production and have no doubt that’s a huge ingredient to its success, along with Peter Morgan’s incredible writing.

I was also a fan of the show, and it was an honor to be part of the third season. And I can’t say enough amazing things about Jane Lapotaire. We talked a lot in between filming, and I relished every moment of that.

EDGE: You’ve done a ton of stage work. Do you have a favorite role you’ve played onstage?

CM: I’ve been so lucky with the theatre work I’ve done, to work with such special directors and work in wonderful theatres in London. I’ve worked at the Old Vic and The Young Vic twice each, and they’re always special to me. Ian Rickson is a liberating director, who I love. It’s hard to pick a favorite, because the roles have all been so different and presented different challenges, but, most recently, doing “A Number,” playing three different characters alongside Roger Allam and directed by Polly Findlay, was a really treasured experience, and I never tired of doing that show, every performance was challenging as it was.

Miss the rehearsal room

EDGE: You were doing “A Number” earlier this year. Did you finish your run before the lockdown/shutdown?

CM: Just about! We had our final performance, and then lockdown happened days later. I feel very sorry for the productions that didn’t get the sense of completion of finishing a run. I mean, finishing a full run leaves you in a kind of post-show void anyway, even though you know it’s coming, so to not know it’s coming and have it severed must be even more of a void.

Memories of performing just months ago seem like such an unattainable thing in this COVID world right now. I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping we get back to some semblance of live performance.

EDGE: What was it like to appear onstage opposite Dame Diana Rigg in “All About My Mother?”

CM: Well, I think “iconic” is an apt word for both the experience of working with Diana and the lady herself. In between scenes backstage we used to talk a lot and we got told off for talking too loudly, so Diana began to teach me sign language and we would spell out words to each other, maybe only getting a couple of sentences to each other before she was due on stage and I had to get into position for my next entrance-- we did a radio play together two years ago and she remembered, she said, “Do you remember A-E-I-O-U?” signing out the letters with her hands.

EDGE: None of us knows the future in terms of the pandemic and when we might return to making theatre. I’m a playwright myself and find it all supremely frustrating but I’m trying to remain hopeful! Where are you right now in terms of the standstill we are in and what the future might hold?

CM: Yes, I’m so worried for theatre. It’s a devastating blow. I’m sure as a playwright, you know that the creative spirit in individuals hasn’t been diminished by this virus. People are creating important art in this crisis but we need the platforms to present it and bring people to some light again out of this really scary period, but it needs to be safe and it’s a worrying time. The virtual theatre approach must be looked at I think. We need to experiment and find new paths at least for the time being. I’m involved in developing some things right now and how we can work on things in both an isolated and collaborative way. It’s entirely counterintuitive to what the family-feel and close bond of a group in a rehearsal room is like-- I miss the rehearsal room so much!-- but we can’t sit still, we must create and we must act.

What’s in a role?

EDGE: Looking back on the great success of “Merlin,” what are your takeaways from that experience?

CM: Some of the most treasured memories of my life will forever be connected to “Merlin,” the cast, crew, production, everyone! The invaluable training of being in front of a camera every day! The chance to inhabit a character and live with him for five seasons! There’s too much to list and words probably won’t do justice anyway, but I’m truly grateful for everything the show gave me.

EDGE: How do you select the roles you play?

CM: I guess they select me in a way. I can’t play a role unless it speaks to me and provokes me in some way, but ultimately it’s the characters that I have a fear about playing, not knowing how I’m going to enter into the process of living them, when I don’t have all the answers it’s a good indicator of a character I must play. If I have all the answers, there’s less scope for exploration and discovery which isn’t as interesting for me.

Link here

#colin morgan #interview #14 july 2020 #edgemedianetwork #benjamin #transcription

[iheartbookbran]

1/ Okay, this is going to be a bit of a long reply, but do you honestly think Jaime is comparable to Cersei? Cersei has never done a single good thing in her life, has been murdering kids since childhood, and hardly regrets a thing. But Jaime? Like, pre-AGOT, what great crimes has Jaime committed with Cersei, besides incest? It’s pretty clear from Cersei’s POV that she’s been acting autonomously on everything besides conceiving Joffrey. Jaime hasn’t been involved.

2/ Getting into ASOIAF, Bran: yes, totally unforgivable, but a classic trolley situation in which GRRM states most people would do the same. And Jaime has said he’s ashamed in-text, more on that later I presume. Arya: his absolute lowest point, and he acknowledges it as such. It comes at a time when he’s practically out of his mind following Bran, and disturbs the hell out of him later. But hold him to account for sure, this is the closest he ever gets to being like C.

3/ Baby Tully: personally, I think it’s pretty clear in-text that Jaime isn't going to do this. If you look harder at Jaime’s whole relationship with bluffing, the way bluffing is being discussed in these chapters, and Genna, an insightful character, saying Jaime is NOT like his father, it becomes obvious that this is just an ugly attempt at imitating Tywin, complete with trebuchet. It’s dark to threaten this at all, sure, but Edmure is expecting dark so Jaime serves it.

4/ Slut-shaming Cersei - I mean, his thoughts are pretty fucking unpleasant, but… he’s human? This woman has cheated on him, multiple times (and not just as a means to an end, see Taena) whilst asking him to throw away his entire life since he was 15 to remain loyal to her. But sure, let’s just call it slut-shaming lol, Jaime should obviously be proud of Cersei and support her in fucking whoever she likes?

5/ Jaime and consent: GRRM is appalling at writing consent, I totally agree (look at Asha and Qarl)… but he has outright said that the twins’ sex is consensual, whether it looks it or not. You are going to have to use death of the author here if you want to argue that it’s anything otherwise, but by all means call GRRM out for his bad portrayal of it. Tysha: Jaime already knows he was wrong, and it’s plagued him his entire life. But let's not hold him accountable for his dad's extremes.

Oh boy, ok, let’s unpack all this, shall we? Honestly if someone had told me even yesterday that I’d be reciveing Jaime anons out of all the characters, I wouldn’t believe them. Because, again, I’m no renowned Jaime expert and my investment in him extends to... he’s interesting alright, I hope he stays alive long enough so that Bran gets to fling some shit at his face at some point or another in the next two books, but that’s really it.

1. So on the “Cersei has never done a single good thing in her life, has been murdering kids since childhood, and hardly regrets a thing. But Jaime?” part of your ask. I don’t believe there’s much difference on when someone starts committing crimes and it makes it somehow less bad of you don’t begin in your childhood, Jaime could have been attempting to kill/maim children at 13 or at 33 and guess what I would still believe he’s an asshole for it. He’s made choices that involve harming others in the name of maintaining his precious affair with his sister and upholding his family’s crimes, and it doesn’t matter to me when he started on it. This is not a fucking “evilness” point accumulation and Jaime doesn’t get a pass just because Cersei got a head start.

2. “Bran: yes, totally unforgivable, but a classic trolley situation” Sorry, nonny, but did you just compared Jaime pushing Bran from a window so he could continue with his toxic relationship... to the fucking trolley problem? WTF? Jaime, a goddamn adult with critical thinking skills, chose to continue that affair for years and years while having full knowledge of what the consequences of being discovered could be. He chose to be reckless and take his chances anyways. He was between the sharp object and the hard place because he chose to put himself there, and he doesn’t get to say “well I had no other choice” now because he fucking did, for years, he had a choice, and he went ahead with the most selfish one and when the consequences of his actions almost caught up with him, he again choose to be a selfish jerk and harm an innocent bystander, a child, that had no part in any of it. And you could argue that he did it to protect his own children but lmao, Jaime really doesn’t care that much about his children, lbr; just remember how he thinks of Joffrey. Cersei never gave him the opportunity to connect with them that’s true, and he only starts to bond a little with Tommen during aFoC, but I just think that if Jaime truly, sincerely, cared that much about his children’s well-being he could’ve oh idk stopped having sex with his sister??? Instead of being in a position in which he has to ruin a little boy’s life so that he can go on his merry way, even if he feels bad about it, that will never be good enough for me. Jaime had a choice, Bran didn’t.

3. “Baby Tully: personally, I think it’s pretty clear in-text that Jaime isn't going to do this.” I mean, given Jaime’s track record of shoving children from windows so that he can cover his and his own family’s ass, I’m not so sure about that, but fine, that still doesn’t mean that threatening someone with killing their baby so that they will submit to your will any less of a jerk move. I also think you’re kind of missing the point: Jaime here wants to have his cake an eat it too. He tells himself he’s upholding his oath to Catelyn (he really isn’t) while at the same time siding with the fucking Freys and aiding them, he’s basically giving legitimacy to the Red Wedding, the one thing most people agree was a hideous unforgivable act. I just think that if I make the active choice to defend and side with criminals, then I’m not less of a criminal myself.

4. Lol, I made that slut-shaming comment with a clear tongue-in-cheek intent, I obviously know their relationship at present is far more complicated than that, and I do think Jaime has the right to feel betrayed, I just also think that Jaime has this tendency of glorifying Cersei without actually truly seeing her for what she is. At times I almost feel like he considers her the fair innocent maiden to his noble knight, and that’s a big farce to both of them. When Cersei inevitably fails to live up to his expectations he’s shocked, as if he hasn’t known her all their lives.

5. “GRRM is appalling at writing consent, I totally agree” yes of course, he’s the same guy who considers Dany/Drogo consensual, that doesn’t mean I can’t still call it out and see it as a flaw. But even more than that, as you say next: “Tysha: Jaime already knows he was wrong, and it’s plagued him his entire life. But let's not hold him accountable for his dad's extremes.” like, again Jaime recognizing something is wrong and feeling bad about it doesn’t magically absolves him of it. Of course he’s not responsible for his dad’s fuckery but he’s guilty of withholding the truth from his little brother, whom he claims to love, with the full knowledge that it was an extremely traumatic experience for him, and that it had plagued him all his life, while patting himself on the back thinking that’s the right thing to do, and Jaime rationalizes it believing that of course Tysha couldn’t possibly care for Tyrion, so she was doing it for the money, which makes her no better than a whore (because Jaime, too, can be a misogynist UwU). You know, Tyrion has a lot of bad going on for him, but my god he’s 100% right in being furious with Jaime in this situation.

Like as you said, Cersei’s big problem is her lack of empathy, but Jaime’s is his apathy. With some big exceptions like when he killed Aerys and protected Brienne, Jaime’s apathy towards what he fully well knows is wrong and yet choses not to do anything about it is my biggest qualm with him. It’s something I believe GRRM is working with his development, but so far as the story goes, he hasn’t really made any significant turn, so I’m not giving him a gold star for participation. I mean, I realize that I’m the minority here when it comes to my opinion of Jaime, and maybe, nonny, how you and other fans interpret him is how he’s meant to be interpreted, but I don’t care lol. Writing this made me remember what GRRM said...

“Sometimes he felt like showering after writing a chapter about Cersei, though, as her world-view is quite unsympathetic.”—In this article.

I honestly wonder why he had to take a shower for Cersei torturing people (who yes, is a horrible evil person, I’m not trying to defend her), but not for Tyrion strangling a woman or Jaime crippling a child for life, but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#well now let’s stop talking about jaime i’m sick of him #better tell me about ur day anon babe #ask #Anonymous #ask pam #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #meta #my meta

[oscar-lime]

Evil Oz / Salem reincarnates AU?

I'm not super sure what to call it yet... info under the cut because I've been planning this one for awhile now.

Feel free to ask me any questions about it!

• The rules for immortality are different. Salem maybe ends up in a soul different from hers that is meant to help her learn and grow. Maybe Ozpin has to live forever to learn a certain lesson as well (trust? Honesty? Just based on something he is known for doing wrong... I'm not sure on this one yet.)

• Instead of a merge, the more dominant soul in the body will eventually gain most of the control. The other will start to struggle to be in control at all until they are just a voice in the back of the other's mind.

• Salem took control of most of her lives by force... she hated not being in control. Oscar was her youngest host, and she ended up thinking back on her children... so she is now trying to make sure he is himself, and trying to make sure he ends up the body's main soul for a change. Even a heartless monster sometimes feels bad when she realizes her next life is a child.

• Oscar can control grimm, but it takes time and practice. Salem's magic is also extremely powerful, so he struggles to hold it in now since he does not know how to control it at all. (She just really wants him to hit the point where he can control the hound.)

• When using Salem's power to control grimm, Oscar's veins temporarily turn red/black (it's a gradient of both colors)

• "Hello Oscar, I'm Salem. Now leave this sad little farm and go to my castle." "*loud screaming*"

• Hazel is the one to realize Oscar is the next Salem. He has her inner circle. She gained them in slightly different ways in her past lives.

Hazel: Ozma sent his sister into another kingdom, then staged her death and made it appear to be a murder to cause conflict between the kingdoms.

Tyrian: Salem wanted someone ready to kill and cause destruction when she needed it. So she offered him the opportunity to kill whenever he wanted (as long as he followed her orders and didn't kill any of her allies.. she always provides him with grimm or prisoners to harm) and for her to hide him away from the law.

Watts: He could make whatever he wanted and she would provide the materials, but in return he had to help her with technology anytime she requested.

Cinder: She was offered revenge. Salem explained what huntsman and huntresses truly are to her, and offered to help her become strong enough to take revenge on the ones who ignored her when she needed help the most.

Emerald, Mercury, and Neo all still followed Cinder.

Roman was actually hired by Ozma for that whole thing with the trains, along with Adam and the White Fang. Ozma chose to destroy his school like that KNOWING it would cause conflict.

• Ozma is immortal. His inner circle is not actually aware of what he is planning. He wants to watch humanity tear itself apart.

• Of course even if they learn of Salem's existence and unite, it still benefits him since they would be fighting against her, and he could use the tension to draw in more grimm and doubt between the nations

• Oz is ALWAYS subtly feeding Ironwood's paranoia. He hopes James will cause a war for him amongst humanity.

• STRQ originally, like every other huntsman and huntress, believed they were doing good. They had no idea Ozpin had been manipulating all of humanity and the academies just to do his bidding. Some "criminals" are truly innocent. They just stood against Oz in someway so they were wanted dead or alive. If he gets them alive he makes sure to make them regret even daring to stand against him... and of course he doesn't want word spreading.

• Raven left when she found out Ozma's true intentions.

• Tai just settled down with his family and is staying out of it. He figures he has time before the world ends, Ozma can't work that fast right? His kids would totally have time to grow up. (He was heartbroken hearing them say they want to go to Beacon)

• Summer actually discovered Ozma's plans, and was killed for trying to fight against him. She wasn't aware of Salem, so she stood up to him on her own.

• Qrow couldn't believe Oz was bad, not after everything he'd done for them. So he stayed around. Ozma has his inner circle tricked into believing he is saving the world.

• Oz still gave out his magic. Two watchbirds are very helpful after all. The maidens are human, the potential they have to cause chaos and destruction is amazing! Plus then the relics are hidden, so Salem CAN'T summon the gods.

• Jaune died. Pyrrha found out something was fishy when she was supposed to be getting the maiden powers, so she got out of the transfer machine with her semblance when she and Jaune realized. She started out fighting Ozpin, but Jaune ended up taking her place because he had the big shield and told her to go warn the others about what was going on.

• So after the fall the group still travels on, just now they want to get the relics AWAY from Oz and to a safe place. They join up with Oscar + Salem's crew eventually

The lamp is the reason Qrow turns against Oz. When they ask what he is hiding the backstory reveals how he began to hate humanity with time, and the joy he took in watching them fight and destroy each other. Qrow is shattered by the truth since he was supposed to be the one hunting the kids down, but he then decides he has to protect them... and apologizes for not believing them.

Oz still has the upper hand though. Salem only has the fall maiden (the one with the hardest to find relic anyway), some henchmen, and a bunch of children. Oz has humanity already starting to argue and nations not trusting one another, plus the academies at his command. Atlas is going nuts because Ironwood is much more paranoid since Oz has been feeding into that.

• Leo did actually still have connections to Salem. His family was sent to live in her castle for their protection, and in return he snuck her team into Beacon. She gave the orders in her old vessel from her castle. But she made her way there around the fall because she wanted her team out safely. It's not always easy for her to find new minions after all, and she didn't want to lose the fall maiden.

• She had a team in the school to try and figure out what Oz is planning, exactly how he tricks the students, and where the relic might be hidden.

• Leo ends up killed by Qrow (poor bird man), as he is one of Ozma's most loyal followers before he turns and considers what Leo did a horrible betrayal.

The Atlas arc goes EXTREMELY different. Penny is sent to actually hunt down RWBY and co at first, but when she sees it's them she doesn't fight them very hard. She doesn't want to take them... they get away, and encounter her again when they head to Pietro for Maria's eyes. She prepares to fight them, but Maria and Pietro quickly stop both sides. After a long explanation of everything, Pietro and Penny are on their side (since Pietro already could see something was fishy just from his work on the inside)

The happy huntresses recongnize the main cast as fugitives right away and absolutely love them. They weren't sure what these kids did, but placed more blame for the main groups criminal status on authority instead of the kids. The group was happy to have allies to stay with and work with behind Ironwoods back.

Monstra pulls up (Atlas was raised, unfortunately) and RWBY, NOPR, and Qrow are like "Yeah that... that is our ride."

There was definitely still some bloodshed in Atlas. Qrow almost convinced Clover of the truth... buuuut then Tyrian happened and Qrow had the same reaction...

Now the group can't leave Atlas because Mantle is struggling and Qrow and Robyn got arrested.

Oscar is kidnapped by Ozma. He is trying to learn what Salem is planning, where she is hiding the relic of knowledge, and where she is keeping now her two maidens. Out of Oz's inner circle, he chooses to trust Glynda to do the right thing since for obvious reasons, Hazel is not torturing him this time around.

Oscar's outfit is different this time. Orange is his main color, so he keeps the orange. Maybe he gets some sort of cape, but with long sleeves for the cold he tosses over his farmer outfit. He could be influenced by Salem since she is a part of him without realizing and maybe change the gloves to red, and have some red (or red and orange) on his cape. I'm not sure the exact colors yet. Basically though his little cape thing is a jacket that just... doesn't really go past the sleeves. It was the only thing I could think of that wasn't just another hood, and the cape seemed fitting because of Salem's subtle influence. (Oscar does not want to kill people, Salem has no problem killing people. She will forcibly take control of him if she feels he is in danger.)

Silver eyes work a bit differently here. They are basically angels, and their power works best on grimm. However, if they begin to truly believe a human is just as bad as a monster or see them in the same light (even without realizing) they can do a bit of damage to them as well (Maybe turn a bit of them to stone, blast off part of them, badly burn them, etc.).

#please go easy on me if i missed anything... this is the first time i put so much work into an au so i definitely would have missed things #rwby au #evil ozpin #evil ozma #is that a better tag? #rwby #oscar pine #oscar pine au #rwby volume 8 #rip jaune #sorry this is a bit hard to read... it's long and i just pasted it here

[digitalta]

( you probably get these a lot but...here i am)

i've read antithesis about 3 times, i always stopped reading around chapter 66 because it was too painful, but it's one of my favorite works in fanfiction. i convinced my sister to read it (it's like...the second fanfiction she's ever read) and she's absolutely engrossed, and today is the day i finally finished reading this tragic masterpiece. (now there's a void in my heart).

what i mean to say is...thank you (for the angst, for the drama, for the comedy, for everything). i don't know what to say or even how to say it, this is such a humane and tragic story that touched me so much that i can't even formulate a semblance of what i really want to say and what it means to me. so, thank you.

oftentimes i found myself so entranced in your writing that i feel like i didn't register the best pieces of writing and identified what could be some quotes to add to my all time favorites.

by chance, do you have a compilation of antithesis's best quotes or poetic tidbits you can share with us please?

and thank you, really ♡

So, I got this Ask a few days ago, and I’ve been sitting on it and looking at it constantly.

First- no. The number of messages never EVER take away from the meaning behind them. I could receive four messages, or four hundred, and I treasure each and every one. You are an individual with completely unique experiences and views. You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect, not thrown into a list of messages from nameless people.

Reading the story isn’t easy for some people. It’s all a matter of perspective, and how we can connect with it and how we can hurt from it. I am so proud of you for finishing it, and finding meaning at the end. 

There are...sections? Of the story that I am incredibly proud of. Pointing out quotes from memory is impossible based on the insane length of the fic.

So I tried to find individual portions that meant a lot to me, as an author and writer. I have a style of writing that I started to refine much further in the story, which appears often in the end. Surrealism and lyrical twist that is more akin to poetry than standard literature. Those lines are the ones I’m most proud of.

A few more popular quotes are those I still enjoy.

Truth be told, moments I actually enjoy appear in the middle and towards the end.

Ch. 36: "I could have been raised to kill Potter." Adrian tried again, desperate in his attempt to scare the man.

"You could have been," Remus agreed, with the faintest glimmer of sympathy, "And if you were, I would give you freedom to live away from expectations or requirements. I would give you an opportunity to follow what you want to do, and not what you were raised to do."

"It wasn't your fault Adrian," He repeated carefully, "and I'll tell you that every day for however long it takes for you to realize that. You weren't abandoned because of who you are. It wasn't your fault."

Ch. 37: He had never thought of her as someone with individual dreams and desires, an individual life that everyone would mourn and miss and remember.

She hadn't...she hadn't (or had she always been?) a person, in his eye. She was just an object, a possession of the wrong side…He had left her behind, left her lying in a pool of water too weak to stand or speak. He had turned his back on her and left her on the floor.

Ch. 38: The man's eyes were bulging, his hands were gasping against his torn and butchered chest.

"He is prey," Nagini simplified, "Prey are eaten."The man gasped something wetly, it sounded faintly like a plea.

What had he done. What had he done?

Ch. 40: "I know, I just...I do things on my own." Adrian paused, trying to elaborate but struggling with the words.

"Ah, I know how you feel." Remus smiled slightly, something nostalgic and yet so terribly pained, "We all have our own burdens to carry."

Ch. 40: Luna noticed, and she smiled something soft and sad."You know, I think you'd be a wonderful thestral.”

Ch. 44: She turned, opening her mouth and displaying saliva and venom soaked teeth, as long as dinner plates, "And do you, Cerastes, have anything to your name that make others cower? Or are you a hatchling child who dreams of prey far too large for his teeth."

"That's not true," Adrian shook his head in denial, knowing his face was flushing ugly with his anger. His scars itched and his eyes were burning and his nose was filled with disgusting snot.

"Are you crying?" Barty asked, sounding like he was going to burst out laughing, "as if the Dark Lord would find you useful!"

"Master," Lutain unhooked from Barty's leg, slithering across the distance, "Master that is not true,"

"It is," Adrian swallowed, a lump the size of a walnut was lodged in his throat.

Ch. 45: "That's why you wore this dress." he realized, speaking out loud as the epiphany struck him. "So people would stare at you. Instead of staring at me."

"People always stare at me," Luna offered dismissively, "I'm different and people don't like that. I think it scares them, like thestrals do."

Ch. 46: Luna smiled enchantingly, "Adrian you're good at spells."

"I'm really not," he automatically blurted.

Luna's eyes searched his, flickering from one back to the other, "Why are you arguing? Why do you think you're so...mediocre?"

"Because I am!" Adrian blurted, face feeling warm as he flushed against his will. Luna's spell faded out. She whispered it once more, squinting into his face as if looking for something in particular.

"I don't think you are," She confided, "I think you're brilliant."

Ch. 46: Adrian's throat moved three times as he nervously swallowed, "I...I'm not good enough n-"

"I'm afraid you're going to do something stupid for the approval of someone that doesn't matter." 

Ch 50:  "I tried, but the little demon went savage on Mundungus again, stabbed him with a fork and looked right happy with it." Sirius grimaced.

Ch. 50: "How was your summer?" Luna asked curiously. "You look terrible."

"You know, most times you're supposed to compliment me first." Adrian dryly commented, "It's wonderful to know you're so sweet."

Luna shrugged, "You look like something's eating you."

Ch. 50:  Skylar's jaw flexed, twitching as he refused to look away from the window, "Cedric really...I saw Cedric die. I saw him die, and you saw someone die, right in front of you, years ago."

"I was young," Adrian swallowed, his throat felt dry, "I barely remember it."

Skylar gave a single bark of laughter, bitter and sharp, "You don't- you don't just...just forget about it." 

"Yes you do." Adrian blurted, not even hearing the slightly pained whine in his voice. 

Skylar looked haunted, "I...I remember his eyes. They...Merlin, his eyes."

"I don't think I'll ever forget it," Skylar admitted quietly, "What Cedric looked like. Laying there, on the grass. He, he was just...alive, and then… and then he wasn't."

"It wasn't your fault." Adrian spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Ch. 54: “You’re not unlovable, silly.”

Ch. 56: “I could set this entire room on fire,” Adrian mused quietly. “I could burn this entire house down and kill you. burning people smell a lot like burning meat.”

Sirius realized, that he was afraid. He was quite afraid actually.

Ch 57.: Adrian stilled, pausing as if in thought. He looked at Remus with half lidded eyes, the yellow far too bright to be anything but alarming. "Do you like me, Remus?"

Remus felt as if he was mourning for the loss of something gone, which was impossible. Adrian was right there, but he felt so far away. He felt as if he had changed truly, as if something hideous had condemned him to something so foul, he had accepted it.

"Of course I do," Remus spoke, voice strained and distorted through his distress, "Adrian, you know I do. Why would you ever think I wouldn't?"

Ch. 58: "I thought I was insane." Adrian mused without much emotion, "Disturbed. Psycho. Spastic. Mad. Mental. Thick. Freak." Adrian's body twitched in a small spasm, "Loony." he practically hissed out.

Remus breathed through his nose carefully, "Who called that to you?"

"Nobody," Adrian murmured quietly, "Everyone. They think it, everyone does. Selwyn has a few screws loose. Selwyn is a freak."

Remus gently set aside the comb and scissors. He ignored the few scraps of hair, and instead slid forward slightly so that his weight was a nearby presence for Adrian.

"That isn't even my name," Adrian whined, shaking across his shoulders, "I- I just want to be good."

"You are good, Adrian." Remus assured him, "You're exceptional."

Ch. 60:  "Oh I know," Adrian hummed back, carefree as if truly it was barely of importance, "my life is a tragedy. I think I hadn't cared to truly involve myself to my full capabilities. Now...now with a deadline, I think that It's time for me to step forward."

Ch 60.:  "You love me," Adrian whined out like a dying animal. (Which, he supposed, he was).

Ch. 63: I know what it is like, to be unmade.I know what it is like, to be nothing.And through that, I know I am not.

Ch 64.:  "I'm surprised you never noticed, in all honesty." Adrian mentioned with a wry smile, "after all, professor. I have my mother's eyes."

Ch 65.: For now, all Adrian had was himself.In the sweet smelling heather and deep earthy peat bogs out of sight, in the moonlit shadow of a moss covered mountain which towered over an isolated cobblestone road cut from the mountain itself; Adrian found peace.

Past Chapter 65...honestly, each chapter is filled with absolutely gorgeous one liners. I pulled out small quotes above that I found really stuck out to me, or had some sort of important meaning. It would be impossible to pull out every single quote, basically because it would take so much time.

What’s your favourite?

#antithesis #shadowed malice #harry potter fanfiction #oceanbreeze7 #adrian selwyn #man what a tragedy #ask me anything

[atltexts]

INNOCENCE ONLY MATTERS IF YOU’RE POPULAR

Because it seems as though the school is only interested in working against BVH (never taking his concerns seriously or wanting to listen) & work in ATL’s favour in all aspects (even things things that have been disproven! They’re just scrounging to use anything to use against him without valid or moral reason…perhaps to drive him out), the next posts will be about retaliation, discrimination, lies & the hypocrisy, and the bias of the Title IX process and how the school of medicine encouraged this to happen. They basically told BVH that because he is not as popular as ATL and does not receive as much praise as her for being “so brave”, he cannot have the same advantages. I say this because when he complained to several different administrators about how he was treated by students, they said ATLs complaints are more valid since more students reported him for the 1-0 narrative and for “feeling unsafe. Them feeling unsafe is not BVHs responsibility, but the school’s responsibility to stop silencing him from telling the truth. ATL, on the other hand, is permitted to spread false information without any repercussions, even taking it to social media on a regular basis (post to come). Had the roles been reversed, I promise you it would be a whole other story. Maybe thev enjoy the fact that their students are left in the dark and afraid, thinking they are studying in the same class as a r*pist. Who knows. They can do their signature sad eyebrows, but I’m not buying it. I love a good popularity contest though. Anyway… Health is bad today! Bare with me

💬

TY!!! I want to also mention how the few people in the past who have shown BVH kindness have made him cry, in a good way, including the classmates who let BVH know that they did not participate in signing the petition & the ones who reached out to give him the opportunity to explain his side. Thank you. As BVH lays low, the school + ATL never seem to give him a break, it’s been challenging to say the least…

BE NICE: In all seriousness, please do not send any hate towards ATL. That’s not what this blog is for. My grandmother always said we act out of 2 emotions: love & fear. I can’t understand ATL’s perspective, but I know this came from a place of suffering. This is my higher self speaking. I think she is in a dark place right now, and I truly hope she’s not alone in that.

BUT NOT THAT NICE: The school, on the other hand, I blame them more than anyone for handling this situation so poorly and allowing behaviour that resulted in having to take on the heavy burden of writing this blog. Instead of taking BVH to empathy coaching, they could have taken ATL on a group date to accountability coaching. Instead of helping the situation, they made it worse. They know this. I tried to tell them how unacceptable their behaviour is many times. I gave them 3 chances. This could have been avoided. They knew better, they didn’t listen.

HOW TO HELP BVH: That being said, I don’t discourage anyone from writing to the school (especially those who campaigned against BVH, or any pages who posted about him). I think that would be really, really nice. I just want this chapter closed so we can finally move on with our lives…Doesn’t seem like that many people know about this blog yet so I promise it would make a huge difference!

YOU ARE NOT A METOO ADVOCATE IF YOU REFUSE TO LOOK AT BOTH SIDES ^ continuation: Based on what I’ve witnessed, it’s the only way the school take anything seriously. Rather than focusing on the victim, they deliberately choose to focus on the “general consensus” — I don’t think they act on true empathy, but rather what they think ‘humanizes’ them. It’s undeniable they know BVH is not guilty…they are smart people who have spent way too much time ‘investigating’ this. Be as passionate about this as you would with the #metoo movement if that helps — false accusations are just as bad IMO. As genuine #metoo supporters, we shouldn’t undermine the experiences of true victims by endorsing false accusations (duh!). We learn & we grow.

This has been extremely traumatic for BVH & it will take him a while to recover from what has been done to him.

#CWRU maltreatment #highlights

[crstapor]

Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush


1.

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ‘thinking’ bring them to this point.

2.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

3.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

4.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ‘Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

5.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

6.

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.  

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21

#January 6th #terrorism #domestic terrorism #the internet #social media #revolution #insurrection #01/06/21 #low information #mind cancer #George W Bush #Trump #GOP #epistemology #white #essay #philosophers on tumblr

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 10: Truth and illusions (Part 1)

Warnings: none

Author notes: I’m glad to finally be back with a new chapter for you! I hope you’ll like it!

As promised, Ranpo-san had gone to meet with the director of the Armed Detective Agency and had disappeared behind a discreet door of the office. Kunikida looked bothered, but he did not add anything and went back to work on his schedule. Sometimes, as I waited for the detective to come back, I could hear him mumble and grunt about the members' irresponsibility and how untrustworthy I was at the moment. I had tricked him and used him to go back to the Agency, but did it make me a wicked person? Perhaps, actually. I realised the greatest problem I would encounter with my new life would be completing missions and doing my job without using underground techniques and skills I had acquired throughout the years. No torture, whether psychological or physical, no warning, no threat, and no killing. I was used to such methods, and I knew none other which worked so well. I wondered how Dazai dealt with that matter... On the other hand, the man was a born strategist; within the monstrous number of plans he could put in place to solve a problem, one of them could avoid the use of crimes, could it not? I decided to question him about this matter when we both would be alone. For the moment, I had to focus on being accepted in the Armed Detective Agency.

"Ogawa, could you come in a moment, please?" Ranpo-san's characteristic voice echoed in the room.

I reached him in what I assumed was the director's office. The place was a bit darker, but the atmosphere was as comfortable, perhaps even a tad more serene. This was most certainly due to the diverse traditional trinkets and decorations set around the room, rather harmoniously. The director, himself, gave off the feeling of a charismatic person, very righteous but also kind. He had nothing in common with Mori-san, whose eyes shone with evilness. I felt genuine respect for this man sitting in front of me.

"So..." His voice sounded deep and confident "You are here because you want to join our Armed Detective Agency?"

His question felt more like a statement to me, but I nodded anyway.

"It is rare for Ranpo to take interest in someone. What did you do to catch his eyes?" He questioned.

I could not admit we had barely run past each other on a bridge while I was following a man who was going to die... Could I...?

"I..." I hesitated before remembering why I was there in the first place "I think it has something to do with the reason of my presence here —"

"She threw herself out of a window, from the third floor of a building, for the sole sake of being cured by Yosano-sensei and stepping there again." He answered for me "That alone shows how determined she is, doesn't it?"

"Again...?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Several weeks ago, I was deadly wounded during a fight... And Dazai brought me there." I explained.

"I see. I have to admit, it was a bold move from you."

"I was scolded by Yosano-sensei for that..." I rubbed the back of my head "She told me to respect my life some more..."

"And, Ogawa Yōko, how would someone who doesn't care about her life protect those of the citizens of Yokohama?" He questioned me, rather curtly.

I was taken aback. Astonished. And stayed mute, stupidly trying to come up with some kind of answer. His question was not malicious, but it raised important issues. Indeed, how would I...? Was I truly able to protect people's lives, I who had always worked to steal them...? I clenched my fists, lowering my head to hide my eyes with my bangs, just so none of the men would be able to witness the gathering of tears in them. Was I even suited for this place...?

"I... I've always been told that my existence was worthless..." I confessed after a moment of awkward silence "My father repeated, every day, that it would have been better if I had never been born, that I wouldn't be a burden for him if I had never existed... With time, I... Ended up believing his words. There was no one to tell me otherwise, anyway, and when I ended up in the slums, I became all the more aware that my life was so meaningless in this ruthless world we live in... So I... I suppose I do not value my existence as I should value a human's. To be honest, I do not think the slightest that I can protect lives. I've failed countless times trying to save people I cared about... How would I preserve those of strangers...? However, at the very least, I am willing not to go back to the darkness I come from, and I want to try. I want to try growing and living under the sunlight. Will you... Will you give me a single chance...? Even if it is to prove to me I cannot do it, will you just allow me one chance...?"

The director's eyes had widened progressively as I was talking. Ranpo-san had crossed his arms and leaned his back onto the chair, perhaps thinking about whether recommending me was a good idea or not, and I regretted every word I had said. If I wanted to be taken... If I truly wanted to be employed, I would have tried and praised the little qualities I had, instead of mentioning all of my worst flaws. Did I even have any qualities…?

"Ogawa..." The older man sighed after a moment.

My heart raced in my chest. He would reject me... He would order me to leave and stay away from this place. He would toss me away. Disposable pawn... Would Mori-san's words follow me anywhere I went...? I winced, holding my head a moment. My headache, due to my anxiousness, was giving me a hard time and I had troubles focusing on something else than the various thoughts fighting around my mind for attention.

"I believe every human life holds its value." He spoke suddenly, drawing my attention to him "Yours is not different, none can make you believe it is worthless from now on. None will ever tell you that anymore if you are willing to give our Agency a try. I want to give you the chance you asked for, now it is your turn to prove me right, to prove yourself wrong and to live on. Do you think you can strive to become the person you aim to be?"

"I can. I will." I declared, serious "I will make good use of this chance given to me, Director... However, I would like to be fired if anything I do compromises the Agency or the detectives..."

"Not everything we do is according to the law." He smiled slightly "Although we try to make everything legal, there are things we do and that the government allows only due to certain circumstances. It can't be helped, but you will, indeed, be notified if anything you do seems wrong to us. I believe Kunikida-kun will tell you each time..."

"Then, thank you for your trust, Director... I will not disappoint you."

"I am not afraid that you disappoint me." He said mysteriously "You haven't been registered as a detective yet; until then, try not to cause too much trouble. Or we won't be able to help you."

His words seemed to hold a deep meaning, yet I could not understand what he was trying to imply. Trouble? Solving crimes related to abilities did not seem to involve much trouble, did it? I simply nodded, thanked him again and exited the room with Ranpo-san, who had not departed from his grin throughout the entire conversation. Once the door was closed behind us, I felt the urge to bow in front of him.

"Thank you very much, Ranpo-san, for recommending me. If not for you, I... I would not have been able to be accepted to this place."

"Don't thank me too quickly~" He chuckled "You may regret it, who knows~ Anyway, I believe Kunikida-kun already looked for a proper first job for you."

He too, seemed to make some understatement my mind could not decipher. I thought it was better not to pay too much attention to it for the moment so I could focus on solving my first case in the Armed Detective Agency.

"Obviously." The blond man sighed, handing me a printed order "You are to play the bodyguard. Is that too complicated a first mission?"

"Not at all..." I blinked, taken aback, and grabbed the sheet to read the demand "I did not expect this, that's all..."

"It's true that you've helped us with the murder case of the hostel~" Dazai noted "But although we are 'detectives', we have other occupations than investigating mysteries~"

"That's my part~" Ranpo-san added "I was too busy last time, that's all~"

"I see..." I smiled "I'll be off, then."

As I took my coat, I felt something was wrong. And I turned toward Kunikida.

"Have you... Have you taken my guns...?" I awkwardly asked him.

"Obviously...!" He groaned "In case you would be dangerous...! I could not let you shoot at everyone once you were awake...!"

"That is... Logical." I agreed "However, could I have them back...?"

"You most likely won't need them today, though?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I... I'm not used..." I embarrassingly rubbed the back of my head "I'm not used not to wearing my holsters... I even slept with them, sometimes..."

"Do you realise you could have killed yourself...?" He groaned "Fine, you'll have them back, but I won't allow you more than a magazine for each one."

"It will be more than enough." I assured with a smile as he gave them back to me.

Once the guns were in place, I could wear my coat and place the order in the inner pocket to prove my identity.

"You'll need someone to escort you." Dazai told me "For you aren't a detective yet~ I can —"

"You can't!" Kunikida argued "You are both acquaintances, who knows what you can do together? And I can't go either, for there is too much work..."

"Meh..." He seemed disappointed "My ultimate attempt to ditch work~"

"You'll have plenty of other opportunities~" I reassured him "But it is bothering me that I can't go alone..."

"The problem doesn't lay in your skills; it is more than likely that you could succeed alone. Playing bodyguard isn't something you're unused to, after all... No, the problem is, we have to keep an eye on our new trainee and prove your identity." Dazai explained "But except for Kunikida-kun, who could go...?"

"I am not suited for the task~" The detective declined, laying on his desk.

"You've already done so much for me..." I said.

"Then, I'll go."

I turned toward Yosano-sensei, who had removed her white coat and readjusted her clothes while we were busy discussing the mission.

"Is it not a problem...?" I frowned "You are the doctor, if —"

"It is unlikely that anyone will get hurt till tonight." She brushed my concern off with the back of her hand "I'll be in charge of you, and if I see you putting your life on the line again, I'll have the pleasure to punish you~"

"That... Won't happen... I hope..." I looked away before smiling at Dazai "I'll see you later..."

"See you later~" He grinned "Come back safe so we can go somewhere to drink~"

"If you are willing to do so, I can't refuse~" I chuckled, exiting the Agency with Yosano-sensei.

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd ranpo #edogawa ranpo #bsd yosano #yosano akiko