#this is so frustrating. Yes. Yes I am in distress. I feel like a horse in a plinko

[macksho]

I have possibly unlocked a new level of crowbrain by assigning rocks to blorbos

#Ive been sitting here for twenty minutes with the rocks my mother brought to me going ''oooh this one is so perfect for the monkey man'' #and ''oh this one is just like the lil guy. Wait no this is like the guys emo friend and this one is like the guy AND THE ROCKS ARE SO #SIMILAR THEY ARE ALMOST THE SAME ROCK BUT DIFFERENT COLOURS'' #in general - I am going feral #am I having the time of my life? Yes. #am I also in disstress 'cause how do I choose the best rock and what do I do with the rest now I have to assign a blorbo to every rock I own #this is so frustrating. Yes. Yes I am in distress. I feel like a horse in a plinko #anyway rocks #rocks are cool #crow brain #go brrr

[torturedbridgertonsdept]

Chapter 1

Clandestine

Anthony Bridgerton had been out hunting on a cold October morning. He was crouched behind foliage, his gun pointed directly at a deer he had been carefully following for a few moments. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breath created a light fog around his head. The doe kept still for a moment too long. He fired his gun, unfortunately missing the shot. The deer ran off out of his view and he growled in frustration. Oddly, he had heard a loud neighing coming from behind him. A cream-white horse caught Anthony’s attention when he turned around. 

“Oh dear, where did you come from? Shh… it’s alright, I am sorry for startling you,” Anthony had spoken softly, trying to ease the animal’s anxiety whilst he petted its nose.

“Blossom? Blossom! Come here, girl!” Anthony heard a young woman’s voice cry accompanied by loud whistling. It was not long before he had seen her coming from the same direction as the horse did. “Blossom! Oh my sweet girl, are you alright?” She cooed approaching it then patting its back gingerly.

Anthony tipped his hat to the mysterious lady who had appeared at his then-failed hunting spot. 

“I’m afraid it was my fault that the poor girl was startled. My apologies, Miss…” He paused, allowing her an introduction.

“Augustine… Augustine Baxter,” She bowed.

Anthony studied her appearance. Augustine wore her brunette hair pinned up uniformly, her cheeks and lips accented by a subtle pink rouge, but her coat was discolored and tattered, with her dress and apron reflecting the same state.

“Pleasure to meet you Miss Baxter, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton,” He held his hand out for her. 

His name rang in her head to be familiar. Her eyes widened once she remembered the identity of the man.

“Viscount Bridgerton!” Augustine said frantically as she bowed before him. “Oh, I am a half-wit! Forgive me for not recognizing you before. I had been journeying to your estate before my beloved Blossom had gotten away from me,”

“Journeying to my estate? Why might you be heading there?” He raised his brow.

“Did Lady Bridgerton not inform you? I am to be a lady’s maid to your sister, Miss Eloise,” She placed her hands on her hips proudly.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten we contacted the agency for a new maid,” Anthony rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger as if it would repair his memory. “Forgive me, for the last few weeks have been a total nightmare to deal with. I’ve too much paperwork to tend to, on top of me searching for a wife this season, I am completely overwhelmed…” He paused to groan and wipe his face in frustration. “Anyway enough about me, yeah? I am far too complicated and boring to talk about. For now, I shall see that you arrive at the Bridgerton home safely, yes?” Anthony requested as he mounted his own horse.

“Are you sure that’s quite alright? I would hate to trouble you, my lord. You must have so many duties to attend to as the viscount,” She said gently, not wanting to look like a damsel in distress any more than she already did.

“Ah, come on. You would not be interrupting anything, seeing as my hunt this morning was unfruitful,” He chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“That is most kind of you, sir, thank you,” She reluctantly agreed. Augustine climbed back up onto Blossom, waiting for his instruction. He had gestured the direction with his head and she nodded in understanding.

Riding her horse parallel to Mr. Bridgerton, he could feel his glances but refused them, thinking it to be improper to stare back at a man with that high of a title, but the looks she did allow herself revealed traits such as his jawline and how it framed his smile elegantly. His dark hair curled upward, highlighting his chocolate-colored eyes. She had thought to herself that anyone who had seen him would agree that he was handsome, almost annoyingly so.

“I do hope you are prepared to tend to Eloise. She is quite a handful. Think of if a squirrel were to be combined with a rabid dog, and you will only know half of the chaos she is capable of creating. if you wish to no longer work for her after your meeting, I would not blame you,” Anthony said in jest and was delighted to discover Augustine softly laughing in response.

“I doubt that she will cause me to reconsider things, my lord. I assure you, I have as much patience as there are stars in the night sky,” She said in earnest, but Anthony had found it a bit humorous nonetheless.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” He said, giving her a nod. A moment of silence passed before Anthony spoke once more  “I’m assuming you had fallen off your horse when I startled her correct? I can call for a physician to examine you if you are hurt,”

“I am most grateful, Mr. Bridgerton. I am quite alright. I believe the worst of it would be this nasty bruise on my hip,” 

Anthony was intensely curious about Miss Augustine. She was very brief in her responses as if she were punished for having a personality as a child, but still exuded charm and kindness. He wondered what her history must be. He felt it a bit invasive to ask her questions about personal topics, but he could not help himself.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Miss Augustine, but how old are you?”

“I am but one and twenty years, my lord,”

“You’re quite young to be a lady’s maid, yes?”

“Perhaps, my lord, but it is what I must do to live,” She laughed to be polite. She had known working for people of high rank would include having to hear comments like this, but she didn’t seem to mind it coming from Anthony. She found it harmless.

“Right… My apologies,” Anthony nervously cleared his throat, embarrassed about coming off so privileged.

“It is no trouble at all, Mr. Bridgerton,”

"Have you had any experience in being a lady's maid before?" He quickly asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"I have been working as staff to noblemen since I was sixteen. I worked with my parents until they had tragically passed. My mother was a chambermaid and my father, a butler," Her voice was sweet, contrasting the rather grim recalling of her history.

"My deepest condolences. How did your parents pass?" Anthony was not known to be the most gentle in his delivery, but his interest was genuine.

"They had gotten sick while traveling from France... They passed on the boat ride from lack of medical attention," She said slowly so as to not get herself emotional in front of the viscount.

"And what happened to you after that?"

"I had continued to work at my old employers' estate until they had moved out of the country and now the plan is to work for you and the rest of the Bridgerton family until I am old and grey," Augustine attempted to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. She did not wish to depress him any further.

His interest was piqued when she mentioned her plan. That was quite some time to commit for a young woman, he thought.

"Is there no chance that you might marry one day? Are there no men that have asked for your hand?" he inquired.

Augustine found Anthony so fascinating. He was not purposefully prejudiced against commoners, he more so seemed uninformed about what life was truly like for them. She did not have the pleasures of going to balls and soirees in search of a spouse, just as Anthony was able to. She did not have time, nor money to even entertain the idea of finding a husband. She was fated to be a poor spinster, a fact that she has accepted for a long time.

“With the brood of Bridgertons I am about to share a home with, I believe I will have my hands full. I shall need not for a husband or children,” As she spun her tale into one that included positivity and light, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for her.

Augustine was known for turning any negative situation into a positive one. That continued to be proven true as the two arrived at the Bridgerton residence. She found it serendipitous to see that the sky was quickly pouring, unconcerned if it had gotten all over her. 

"My lord, would you mind escorting Blossom and I to the stables? She is not a fan of the rain," She laughed, wiping away the raindrops that stung her eyes. Anthony was amused to see the way Augustine looked with her hair now curled up from being doused in rain. Most women he had met would have been furious if they had so much as a speck of dirt on their dresses. 

Augustine had looked upon the Bridgerton home with wonder. She had never seen a place more beautiful. The red brick walls stood out with the wisteria that framed the threshold. It seemed so magical, yet so comforting at the same time. She could not wait to explore the estate. She knew that she would spend every spare moment she was allowed to admire the gardens and see the view of London from the upstairs balcony.

Anthony’s view at that moment was different. He had paid attention only to his footing and to Augustine. He could not ignore how the rain caused her clothes to wrap around the curves of her body tightly. The light fabric of her dress was sheer enough to reveal the entirety of her chest. He had visualized in his mind what it would look like to carefully peel the fabric from her soft skin. Thoughts like this had continued until she had noticed his stare. Once caught, he kept his eyes forward. 

When they arrived at the stables, Augustine was quick to take Blossom into an open stall, lined up with the coachmen’s horses. Anthony stared as she bent over to secure Blossom’s lead to a post in the ground. Her chest had swung out in front of her, the peaks of her breasts fully in Anthony’s view. It was as if he had been entranced, ordered to take small steps closer to her. When Augustine stood up again, she was slightly startled to see Anthony standing there with little space between them. She trembled, feeling his warm breath hit her face. Soon she was pressed to the wall, the viscount’s lips hovering around hers. Her eyes were wide and she felt frozen in place. After a moment passed, the two were brought back down to reality and Anthony pulled away from her sharply.

He then cleared his throat to say "Very, well... I do have some business to attend to and you must be getting to Eloise," He tipped his hat once more and hastily ran off.

“Aye… I shall change clothes and introduce myself to her at once, Lord Bridgerton,”

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine

[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

[illuminati-by-nature]

I have many thoughts and not yet enough sleep.  My opinions on It have shifted slightly after just a couple fitful hours of rest (thanks, cat) so they may change more.  I feel like clarification is still sorely needed, though I can understand that both after a 7 hour session, and 7 hours of watching, that things can be muddled.  The language was vague and exceedingly confusing at the tender hour of 3:30am or whatever.

I’ve been trying to think of how odd some of these dynamics are on a more metal level?  Also, yanno, the state of the disk horse.  I’m still very tired so let’s put it under the cut.

Matt seemed determined to not make any moves to initiate anything beyond friendship as a DM, and I fully get the reasoning of that in terms of the game.  From a narrative standpoint, it becomes strange, because this left Essek in a position of having essentially no autonomy, which doesn’t really make sense in the telling of a story.  Essek had an entire life, a detailed and complicated backstory, wrought with intrigue and conflict.  He has never been a passive person, so it is strange and frustrating to see him so passive in what feel like very key moments of character development.

Of course the discourse is off and running.  I’m leery of doing anything that gets me adjacent to it, but it is so fucking aggravating to see people so completely unempathetic towards the distress and feelings of confusion and loss and lack of clarity that so many other fans in the community are feeling.  It isn’t wrong to be upset.  It isn’t wrong to want something more explicit.  I wonder if any of this could have anything to do with a generational divide?  I’m older.  I’ve seen eons of change in terms of LGBTQ+ rights and representation over the course of a couple decades.  Am I happy that it’s more accessible now?  That it’s more commonplace now?  Absolutely.  But I have been doing this for a long time, and I still want more.  It’s better, and it can still be better, and it should be, and that’s what we all should strive for.  

And hell, I’m tired as hell, so I’ll go ahead and be more directly incendiary.  It feels really weird and reaching to call this aroace representation when one of the characters is explicitly not that, and the other is heavily implied to not be that, and neither of the players are.  And much for the same reasons, it’s difficult to throw this under the QP umbrella too.   There was SO much about the finale that I absolutely loved, and I am so excited to talk about that when my mind is done reeling.  I still have no idea what to think about the state of shadowgast.  While I tend to dislike Word of God as it’s too often abused to handwave away gay content, it’s really just a matter of clarifying confusing wording.  So much work went into building this relationship, so many signs were there, so much growth happened in a long and incredibly believable way.  I can’t and won’t speak for every shipper, but I do know that for a lot of us it was never about a huge romantic gesture or overture or big damn kiss.  Just an answer.  Yes or no?  It is really not too much to ask.

#cr #cr meta #critical role #critical role meta #critrole #critrole meta #shadowgast #my shit

[cruelfeline]

Please consider, a concept:

Hordak has been roped into Boys' Night Out 2. This is regarded as a questionable move by literally everyone involved (except Entrapta, who senses data), but it’s happening. 

Because he has the closest connection to the Queen and thus the highest authority, Bow is unofficially considered “in charge” of this debacle. Meaning that he has to keep an eye on Hordak and ensure that nothing goes horribly wrong. 

And... well, it’s not like Sea Hawk or Swift Wind would be appropriate for that task, anyway. 

So: Bow has that responsibility, and he’s a great friend and a good person, so he is going to fulfill his duty, goshdarn it! He is going to make sure that everyone stays safe and has a good time and has a successful outing. Yes. Even Hordak. Bow is going to do it; he is going to Make This Work.

...except that he is legitimately terrified of Hordak. Here is someone who seems to have only one setting: barely-restrained anger. Maybe with a sprinkling of sneering disdain on top. And despite Bow considering himself well-versed in interacting with people, he’s just... entirely at a loss as to what to do with Hordak. He doesn’t know how to talk to him. He doesn’t know what sort of emotional warning signs to look for, since Hordak seems to be a walking warning sign already. He looks either angry or blank the whole time, and Bow just doesn’t know how to engage with that.

So he’s having a bit of an internal crisis, desperately trying to figure out how he’s going to keep the peace between a bird-horse, a shanty machine, and the embodiment of a building thunderstorm, when his datapad pings him with a message. 

It’s from Entrapta. And it’s... a bunch of little emojis? Yup: Hordak-shaped emojis. 

Hm... it’s not the weirdest thing that Entrapta has ever sent him, but what is he supposed to do with... oh! Oh, they have descriptions. And specifically call attention to ear positions.

Entrapta has sent him a (very cute) crash course in how to read Hordak’s facial expressions. Which, Bow is now aware, apparently involves assessing ear position.

Well. It’s a charming chart, to be sure, but it just frustrates Bow more. He can already see that Hordak’s ears are pinned back, matching his fixed scowl in conveying Anger. He doesn’t need an emoji guide to see tha- oh. 

Oh. Hold on.

He gives the chart a closer look, glances up at Hordak again, then back at the chart. Yes, he confirms, the ears are pinned, but they’re also tilted down and back. Just a touch, angled in such a way that they... look far more like the emojis indicating nervousness, uncertainty, even fear, rather than the ones depicting just plain old anger.

And... well, hasn’t Hordak been standing somewhat apart from the others, rather than looming and threatening, the way Bow might have expected him to? Hasn’t he been oddly reluctant to make eye contact? And while he’s kept his arms folded in what Bow had thought was gruff annoyance, at second glance, aren’t his hands perhaps gripping his elbows just a little tighter than could be explained by a simple bad attitude?

Suddenly, Bow feels... not at ease, really; not by a long shot, but his chest no longer feels quite as tight, and he finds some of his distress replaced with a sense of... something gentler. To his own surprise, he offers a small, tentative smile in Hordak’s direction.

Hordak... narrows his eyes in a deeper scowl, huffs quietly, and looks away. But, unless Bow’s eyes are deceiving him, the tilt of his ears lessens just a tiny bit.

And while Bow would have loved a warmer reaction, he nevertheless feels a little more tension leave him, and suddenly the night doesn’t seem so impossible to manage. 

I’m not sure what this is I think it was supposed to be a silly observation or a prompt or a headcanon or something but now it’s long I am sorry it got to be this way but I’m posting it because it exists so there

#hordak #bow #she ra #pc:ac

[queenxxxsupreme]

The Worries of a Mother

A/N: I neeeeeeeeed dad!Geralt in my life okay. Also don’t give me shit because Geralt is sterile. I know he is, I just chose to ignore it for this. You can fight me if you don’t like it. Requests are open:)

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved about the kitchen. You looked up to gaze out of the window in the kitchen. You could see your son, Bram, playing in the front yard with a few other kids.

He was adjusting well to the new village. You’d just recently moved in to your home after being forced out of your previous town by angry villagers. They believed your husband, a witcher, had stolen from them.

Something rubbed against your legs. You looked down to see your house cat rubbing against you, purring loudly. You knelt down to pet the cat. Just as you made contact with its fur, there was a loud knock at the front door.

You stood up and looked back to the window you’d seen your son through just a few moments ago. He was nowhere to be seen.

You went to the door and pulled it open to see a group of men. A few of them were looking across your yard. You followed his gaze and found that they were looking at Bram playing with the other kids. You immediately felt uneasy.

“Hello, gentlemen. What can I do for you?” You put on a friendly smile.

“Lars Van Dijick.” The man closest to you held his hand out. “I own the tavern just down the road. You are?”

“Y/N.” You shook his hand.

“Y/N. What a stunning name for such a beautiful woman.” Lars looked pass you, eyeing the inside of your home. “Is there a mister that I could speak to?”

“He’s busy at the moment. You can speak with me though.” You offered a little stiffly.

Lars looked at you, obviously a little shocked that you’d decline his desire to speak to your husband. He cleared his throat and nodded his head.

“Very well. Your boy….” He trailed off, turning to look at your son. “Has he got something wrong with him?”

You locked your jaw and fought the urge to immediately curse the man out. Bram did stand out in a crowd. Even if he was the normal size of a child his age, he had hair so blonde it was nearly white. But being that his hair was oddly colored and he was smaller than every other child his age, he was often subjected to bullying.

“I am surprised you’d ask me that so bluntly, good sir. You don’t know me.”

“He’s just asking ‘cause we don’t want our kids effected by your offspring.” A second man spoke.

The heat in your veins rose and bubbled. Your fingers curled into right fists by your sides.

The sound of a floorboard behind you creaking told you that your husband was making himself known. You could feel his presence behind you, massive and towering.

“Is everything alright, dove?” His low, husky voice calmed you down a little. You turned your head to look up at Geralt of Rivia. His hand slipped around your shoulders, comforting you. He could feel your distress and frustration rolling off of you in waves.

“We were just having a conversation with her.” Lars clearly was uncomfortable at the sight of the witcher.

“I believe I heard you say you’d like to speak to me.” Geralt gently ushered you to the side. You got the hint and moved to stand behind him, peaking around his large bicep so you could watch the men. “Now’s your chance.”

Lars fell silent, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“We don’t welcome your kind here.” One of the men towards the back spoke up. Geralt’s darkened amber eyes flickered to that man. “You’re nothing but bad news.”

“I will be if you insult my son once more.” He practically spoke through his teeth. “If you don’t want your bastard children playing with him, then keep them the fuck away from my home.”

The group disbanded, clearly losing whatever courage they thought they had.

Your husband glared at the men until they were out of your yard, closing the fence behind themselves.

You placed your hand on his bicep, rubbing his arm.

“You think they’ll do anything?” You asked him quietly.

“If they know what’s best for them, they wouldn’t.” Geralt let out a soft sigh. You rested your cheek against his arm, your fingers brushing over his bare forearm. The sleeves to the tunic he wore were pushed up to his elbows.

You looked to your son, who was happy and content playing with the other children.

“I only hope that the locals warm up to him.”

You said nothing in reply.

“It’s me they should be repulsed by.”

“They aren’t repulsed by him, love.” You shook your head softly. “They’re just curious. He…. He is different but different isn’t bad. He’s just like his father.” You kissed his arm. He hummed. “You’ll keep an eye on him while I finish up in the kitchen?”

He nodded once. You moved around to stand in front of him. You cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb across the corner of his lips. This took his attention away from your son for a moment. He looked down at you, a warm smile coming to his lips.

You could sense his agitation. He was irritated with everyone, with how they treated his son. He carried such an immense amount of guilt just because he thought he was the reason Bram was different.

You placed your free hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles against the material of his shirt with your thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips.

You softly patted his chest, glancing over your shoulder to look at your son one last time before you disappeared into the house.

***

The sun was beginning to go down. It was time for Bram to come inside for dinner.

You made your way towards the front door. Geralt had gone to the barn out in the backyard where your horses were kept. You knew he liked to spend time with Roach when negative thoughts brewed inside his head.

You stepped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind you. Your eyes flickered around the front yard in search of your son and the kids he’d been playing with. The sticks they were using as swords were on the ground, almost as if they’d dropped them.

Your heart started to beat a little faster as you flooded with concern. Every time Bram was out of your sight, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach, tormenting you. The thought of anything happening to your precious child made you sick.

“Bram!” You called his name, taking a few steps down the cobble path that led to the main road resting just across the front yard.

He didn’t respond. That was very unlike him. He always answered you when you called. It was also very unlike him to leave the front yard without letting you know.

Maybe he was around back with Geralt.

***

You moved quickly, needing reassurance that your son was safe. The barn door was open.

“Geralt!” You didn’t mean to sound so frantic.

Sensing your panic, he left Roach’s side and moved towards you.

“Have you seen Bram?”

He didn’t answer you but a look of concern washed over his features.

“Oh gods-,”

“Don’t do that.” He cut you off, closing the space between you two. His hand cradled the side of your head while he looked behind you out into the field that rested outside of the barn doors. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears were already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. You brought your hand up to hold Geralt’s bicep, your fingers unintentionally digging into his arm.

“What if those men-What if they did something to him?”

Geralt said nothing to you at first. He just gazed down at you with those golden eyes you loved so much. He dipped his head down to kiss your forehead firmly.

“Go back to the house. I’ll find him.”

“I want to help you.”

“No, you need to stay home in case he returns.” He let you go and moved to fetch Roach.

Just as you were leaving the barn, you heard a scream come from the woods that rested beyond your backyard.

You looked over your shoulder to your husband. He took off in a sprint out of the barn, heading in the direction of the noise. You followed, though you were slower than him.

***

When you caught up to Geralt, he was leaning against a tree, his eyes focused on something ahead. Breathing heavy, you moved to stand next to him.

There was a creek not too far from where Geralt stood. On the other side of the creek was your son. He and the other children he’d been playing with were playing in the mud. Your son’s white hair was patched dark brown with mud and his clothes were covered in the same substance.

Bram was the first to look up. A bright smile crossed his lips as he saw you two looking down at him.

“Hi!” He waved his dirty fingers at you two.

Geralt gave him a soft smile and nodded.

“Come along, Bram.” You called for him, needing him closer to you. Worry and anxiety still swirled in your stomach. You always carried a fear that someone would do something to your boy simply because he was different or for who his father was. “You need to get washed up before dinner.”

Bram stood from the mud puddle he’d been playing in and moved carefully through the creek. He slipped on a rock and stumbled a little but he managed to catch his footing.

You saw Geralt flinch like he’d fly to your son’s side and rescue him from the gentle waters of the creek should he fall. You placed your hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

As Bram approached you, you held your hands out to pick him up.

“But mommy! I’m dirty!”

“I don’t mind, love.” You smiled at him. You picked him up and hugged him tightly.

“Mommy! You’re squeezing me!”

You released him and settled with holding him on your hip. Geralt followed behind you as you made your way back through the woods towards the house.

“Did you have fun today?” Geralt asked Bram.

“Yes! The kids are nicer here than the ones at our other home.”

You smiled, content with having your messy son in your arms and your husband walking alongside you.

Geralt placed his hand on your back. You turned your head to look at him. The corners of his lips turned up in a smile.

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @stretchkingblog97 @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @ayamenimthiriel @romancebibliophilia

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #oneshot #dad!geralt #dad geralt

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon pt. 12

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 11

Part 12(HERE)

Part 13

____________________________________________

Jason had started cackling as soon as Tim explained why he was cross, pulling the ring from his hand and tossing it back to its proper owner. Damian Bruce and Alfred were intrigued by the prospect by the fact Jason was predestined to be a miraculous wielder. Dick, on the other hand, was pouting at Jason being ‘officially more of a cat than him.’

“You’re not a black cat,” Tim snapped, using the door frame to stay upright, glaring at the stark white number over Jason’s head, “He may claim he’s all about destruction but it’s who he was made into not who he is at his core.”

“What?” Jason huffed, “You’re the one that said my number went up to 15! I’m a cat now, I’m leaving the birds to join Selina.”

“No,” He nearly growled in frustration, staggering over to the couch, “Adrian is the real cat here. At his core, he’s sweet and kind and trustworthy, but he also has chaos at his center. He can destroy a person he believes deserves it without a second thought, tarnish a reputation permanently with no remorse if he believed it was the best course of action, manipulate a person into behaving how he wants with precision and grace without anyone realizing that the ray of sunshine would be able to do so. He’s literally destruction. You aren’t like that Jason, not at your core. You’re a true holder, but you aren’t a Black Cat.”

The room was silent as he finally finished and he couldn’t help, but look around at their stunned faces with confusion. Even the Kwamis had frozen from where they had been whispering on the side table, glancing between each other and Tim.

“What?” He snapped, too tired to deal with anything else tonight.

“You’ve only just met Adrian,” Kim drew out, “And just spouted off stuff I never knew about the sunshine boy with such confidence I’m pretty sure you’re not lying.”

“What do you mean? Of course, I know that stuff, can’t you guys tell it too? That’s just what I can tell from observing if I really wanted to know anything important about him I’d have to do research,” He explained with a groan as he leaned against Dick’s shoulder.

Dick just looked down at him in amazement, “No Timmy, most people can’t tell that kind of stuff just from spending a few hours with someone.”

“Huh? You guys never acted like I was crazy before,” He pointed out looking at his brothers.

“I always assumed you researched our targets before we needed the information,” Bruce hummed, “We had meant to ask you how you knew some of the skills you had listed when you had never met the heroes before making the entries in your journal.”

“I mean I did look up some stuff, but isn’t most of that stuff common knowledge?”

Jason snorted, “I didn’t know Bruce spoke Portuguese before reading his journal entry, replacement. I can say with confidence that there’s no video footage of B or Bats speaking or reading Portuguese anywhere or any reason you should know that before I even kicked the bucket.”

“I…” Tim tried to think back, to why he knew this information, where he had put together the man had known so many languages.

“Tim,” Marinette piped up, “What languages does everyone in here speak?”

“French and English.”

His deadpan earned an eye roll from her, “No, I meant past that. Start with your family and then my team, tell me all the languages. Go.”

He was skeptical of what she was trying to do but decided not to question it, “All the bat speak Mandarin, Spanish, Arabic, and BSL. Bruce knows Romanian, Portuguese, Dutch, Cantonese, and Greek. Alfred speaks German, Italian, Japanese, Russian, and Polish. Dick speaks Romani, Romanian, Dutch, and Russian. Jason has Portuguese, Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and Russian. I can do Japanese, Romanian, German and Polish.

Damian knows Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and is just short of fluent in Romanian.”

His eyes turned to the Parisian teens, ignoring the surprise at their extensive list of languages, “ Adrian knows Mardiran and Japanese. Chloe knows Japanese. Kim is fluent in Vietnamese and is nearing passable in German. Max knows Korean and Safan. Alix knows Ancient Egyptian and Arabic. Kagami knows Japanese and Mandarin. Viperion knew quite a bit of Italian but wasn’t quite fluent. Marinette knows Italian, is nearly fluent in Arabic and… actually, I’m not sure what the last one is, but it’s ancient, something close to Sino-Tibetan I think?”

Eyes flashed around the room, before settling on Tim.

“Seriously?” Tim groaned, “None of you knew that?”

Jason's eyes flashed to Damien, “Since when do you speak Romanian?”

He scowled, the tips of his ears burning, “It was going to be a surprise for Grayson, I was hoping to be fluent by his birthday…”

Marinette broke in before any of the brothers could make a comment, “Tim, Damien only practiced Romanian when he knew everyone was out of the house. Nor should you know about the Guardian Language.”

“Guardian Language?” He whispered, head too fuzzy for him to process more than that.

She winced a little, “When the role of Guardian was handed over to me, the language of the Guardians was basically downloaded into my head. It allows me to read the Guardian Grimoire and perform the spells within it to heal kwamis, fixing broken miraculous or create potions to allow them different abilities they don’t usually possess. Usually, there’s a lot of training to be able to deal with the new knowledge being shoved into their heads but my gaining of the guardianship was more than a little unorthodox so I had to deal with migraines for about six months after. I had to decode the secrets for myself even with knowing the language.”

“I don’t even know what the Guardian is,” Tim whispered as the truth set it, “I really shouldn’t know this stuff about you guys…”

“Another aspect of your power, no doubt,” Alfred cut in, “Hardly the worst thing in the world for a detective to have intuition-based knowledge of the people he’s looking up, hmm?”

Tim laughed, “Thanks, Alfred.”

The butler merely nodded, “However, I am fairly certain Master Tim hasn’t been truthful about how much sleep he’s gotten this week and a miraculous drain is dangerous even when well-rested, I suggest suspending this discussion until a proper hour?”

Damien gave him an innocuous look, “ You tried to lie to Pennyworth? Are you completely braindead.”

“Panicking over my secret being out means lots of comfort coffee,” He groaned back as he attempted to bury himself in Dick’s side.  

“Go to sleep Replacement,” Jason huffed, as Dick pulled the other man to his feet. Zombie Tim's duty was something they all had plenty of experience in. It wasn’t long before he was stripped of his costume and sweatpants and an oversized tee pulled on over his bike shorts.

Tim barely registered the lights being turned off as he was bundled into bed, half asleep already.

When Tim arose the next morning he was surprised to see it was only 8 am, seven hours after when he remembered his brother’s getting him to bed. Typically, after the kind of crash, he felt last night he needed a solid thirteen hours of sleep and two cups of coffee to feel this alive again. His answer came from the tiny horse resting on the nightstand.

“Kaalki? What are you doing here?”

“Kwami healing,” She offered in an attempt to be nonchalant as she floated up in front of him, “ Tikki is best at it but every Kwami, barring Plagg, can offer some form of rejuvenation to those who need it. My way of healing is to replenish the energy that has been lost in a timely manner. It was the least I could do after causing you so much distress last night.”

Tim frowned and offered a flat hand for her to land on, “Don’t do that, there’s no blame on you or Marinette or anyone else. Accidents happen, and it’s not like there’s an instruction book on miraculous and metas.”

She fidgeted, “I believe you are correct but I still felt bad for causing such harm to befall you.”

Tim just shook his head, “Either way, thank you. I feel amazing right now.”

She smiled, “Perhaps if you hurry you can join your family for breakfast, I heard they were setting out to leave soon.”

He quickly pulled on his clothes and did his morning routine in the ensuite before entering the main room where his family froze in place as they were pulling on coats and shoes.

“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jason hissed, ready to force him back into bed.  

“Kwami magic has its perks,” Tim defended, hands raised in surrender as Kaalki floated next to him, “I feel more awake then I have in years.”

Alfred grinned, “Ah yes, I remember how Duusu would help us relax after battles. Well come along then,

Marinette squinted at him judgingly, trying to figure out how he was allowed out by his family before Kaalki darted from his jacket over to Max’s. Instead, she just huffs and begins leading the entire group of heroes towards her parents’ bakery, Damien quickly falling in step to her left, glaring at Adrian who had fallen into step on her right.

“SO, replacement,” Jason drawled, dropping an arm around the short brother’s shoulders, “I didn’t get to ask last night cause you looked more zombie then me, but if I’m not a cat, what am I?”

“I don’t even know where to start with miraculous,” Tim huffed, pushing the older man away, “Where would I even start with which miraculous to give to you?”

“Well, how about we give you a starting point,” Adrian asked, turning to walk backwards so he could look at them with a twinkling smile, “Miraculous are broken into two categories, indirect and direct. Direct miraculous powers affect the target of the power directly like the Bee’s venom freezing someone, while the Indirect affect the world around the target, like the Horse’s teleportation. The Black Cat and Ladybug fall outside of the groupings as they’re both direct and indirect. Indirect users can’t use Direct miraculous effectively and can even have adverse effects of transforming too long and vice versa. So does Jason feel like a direct or indirect holder.”

“Indirect,” Tim started, finding the words just started flowing as he stared at the 11 swirling about over his brother’s head, “Jason’s cocky and more stubborn than the Blue Boyscout if you get him going, but he’s also loyal to a fault and filled with so much determination I’m not sure whether to be scared or impressed. No matter how angry he is at someone, or how much he thinks they deserve the consequences of their actions he will be there to protect them by any means necessary. He may talk tough and act stupid but he’s unbelievably wise with instincts unparalleled by normal humans when it comes to trust and how to get out of sticky situations. He can and will kill, but only if it’s the only option left to make it out of a situation alive.”

Jason scowled and pulled on the end of his jacket sleeve as he looked away, “Geez, rip me open why don’t you?”

“Hey, you asked,”

Marinette stared at him with a cryptic eye, “No, he’s right I can see it. I think I know what miraculous to give you.”

Tim’s attention fell away from the conversation as Jason tried to pry the newly found information from the young Guardian. Because that was the least of his worries.

Not when his eyes landed on vibrant blue hair, strikingly familiar, attached to a man sitting on the wall around the Seine, strumming his guitar absentmindedly.

“Found you,” Tim said, causing the man in front of him to smile up at him.

“That was quick,” He laughed, the thick gothic steel-colored 13 made his blue eyes take on a silver hue.

“It’s easy to spot such a high number when most don’t reach past six,” He shrugged.

“You and I aren’t very different, you know?” Steely grey 13 offered, looking back to his guitar.

“I think the masks gave that away,” Tim mussed, “I’m Tim.”

“Luka, Luka Couffaine,” Steely Grey 13, Viperion, Luka offered easily, “And I meant past the masks.”

“How do you mean then, Luka?”

The younger man looked up at him and waved a hand at the chair across from him, “How about you take a seat, Uccellino, and we can compare notes on what it’s like to be meta.”

____________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum​ @rougemme​ @dur55​ @phantommeow12 @kand-roo​ @silvergold-swirl​ @officiallyathiana​ @completelypeccable​ @redhoodsdoll​ @nataladriana9​ @mariae2900​ @northernbluetongue​ @sturchling​ @thesunanditsangel​ @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo​ @bobothyross @taoiichii​ @magnitude101999​ @magicalfirebird​ @nataladriana9​ @panda3506​ @aquariusrunes​ @woodland-queer @sayarock121​ @mindfulmagics​ @magic-miraculous​ @my-name-is-michell @naoryllis @slytherinqueen2432 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @captainartsypants @nanakeid @legendaryneckjudgestudent @smolplantmum @the-real-ginakid @nyaabinch @elmokingkong @gentlemanoftimetravel @whitennerdiest@imbrium-mare @tired-butterfly @corabeth11 @aestheticnpoetic @amirahevens @sassakitty @letterlust @whats-she-gonna-post-next

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #batman #maribat #Tim Drake #meta!tim #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred was a miraculous holder and you can't change my mind #Adrian agreste #max kante #kim le chien #Kagami Tsurugi #alix kubdel #Miraculous Team #Miraculous Lore #Kwamis #Kaalki #luka couffaine

[all-hail-the-witcher]

until next time, dear heart

alright so like a week ago @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account and i had this thread about Well What If Jaskiers Dead? and i wrote it. it's sad. im sorry hannah.

__

ship: geraskier (can be platonic or romantic)

genre: whump (this is my contribution to whumptober), angst, all that

warnings: major character death, panic attacks, anxiety, unhealthy grieving mechanisms including starvation, not sleeping, distancing, almost getting hypothermia, blaming yourself, mutism, thoughts of running away and self destructive behaviors. be careful kids

words: 6311...

editing: absolutely not

__

Geralt had arrived early at the keep that year. He and Ciri had gotten there almost a month ago and while it was peaceful, part of him really wished that Eskel and Lambert would hurry up because he wasn’t sure how much more of Ciri and Vesemir in the same room he could take. Although Geralt supposed that this was his own fault. After finding his Ciri running through the woods his first thought had been to protect her, keep her safe, get her to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible.

Do for her what he hadn’t been able to do for Jas- no. The bard.

It had been months since their last conversation on the mountain, and yet Geralt still had to call on all his Witcher training to keep any and all thoughts of the bard buried deep in the back of his mind. He didn’t have time for feelings now, not when he had Ciri depending on him.

“Geralt!”

Speak of the little cub. Geralt paused his sharpening of his silver sword to see the young girl standing in the doorway, her thick cloak thrown over her shoulders and her hair spilling haphazardly from the mediocre braid that he had managed to shove it in that morning. He had gritted his teeth the whole time, determined to not remember the way the bard had done the same to him so many nights on the path when he thought Geralt was asleep, his hands gently detangling the nest of knots and weaving the silvery strands into some intricate design or other, occasionally tucking flowers into it if they were near a meadow. Geralt would always, always rip it out the next morning, muttering about the impracticality. Just once he wished he had left the stupid thing in, just to see the bard smile softly to himself and mumble things under his breath when he thought Geralt couldn’t hear him about how-

No. Don’t think about his voice, Geralt reminded himself. It was a losing battle.

“Geralt are you even listening to me?”

Oh right, Ciri. Ciri was here and he should be paying attention to her. Stupid Witcher.

“Hmm?”

Ciri rolled her eyes, but pressed on anyway. “One of your brothers just arrived! I couldn’t tell who exactly but Vesemir went out to greet him and he has armor just like you so I knew it had to be one of your brothers! Can we go out and say hi? Please, please, pleeeeassee?”

Geralt was already setting down his sword and reaching for his own cloak. “Of course.” Thank the gods someone else had finally arrived, he had a months worth of frustrations to take out on a good sparring session.  

Ciri bounded ahead of him down the long hall, presumably on her way to the stables. He briefly considered telling her to show down so she didn't give Eskel or Lambert a heart attack. Geralt had conveniently never mentioned his child surprise to his brothers and since it had been some time since there had been children running around Kaer Morhen, her presence was likely to be a shock. But, given the lifetime’s worth of pranks he had to catch up on, he let her go. Maybe he could convince his brothers to help him with Ciri. He’d have to play his cards right and would inevitably end up cleaning their armor for the whole winter, but he found himself not caring. He couldn’t screw this up.

Again, the small voice in the back of his head whispered.

Fuck off, he told it, as he stepped outside into the frigid air. He didn’t have time to dwell on past mistakes.

Voices drifted across the powdery new snow, the kind the bard would wither stomp through triumphantly with a smartass smirk painted across his face or stare at for hours, waxing poetry about how the sunlight glinted across the flecks, making it look like fairydust. And then Geralt would mutter something about how fairydust was a myth and the bard would-

“Geralt!”

Geralt flicked his head up, cursing himself for allowing himself to get lost in memories again. Maybe he could get Vesemir to give him one of his special teas later to help him focus, the last thing he needed was getting distracted when Ciri was depending on him.

Ciri was standing in the stable,Vesemir noticeably absent, feeding Lambert’s horse - he thought this one's name might be Melvin, Lambert always did name his horses the most ridiculous names - some sugar cubes she must have swiped on the way out of the keep. “Look Geralt!” she laughed. “He likes me!”

Geralt frowned. Secretly, he’d been hoping that Eskel would be the first to arrive because he was far more likely to be accepting of his predicament and not make rude jokes about it. Given Lambert’s track record, well he didn't doubt that “children” and “surprises” would be the punchline of his jokes for the next, oh who was he kidding, several winters at least.

“Ciri, you’re supposed to ask before you feed peoples horses, especially people you don’t know,” he said, reaching up to help untack the stallion.

Lambert’s boots echoed heavily on the floor as he walked over to them from the tack room where he had gone to place his saddle.

“Lambert.” Geralt nodded by way of greeting. “I take it you’ve met my child surprise, Princess Cirila, the Lion Cub of Cintra.”

“Yes we’ve been acquainted,” Lambert said gruffly, stepping beside Geralt to remove his saddle bags. Geralt waited for the impending joke, but none came.

He looked over at his brother, ready to make a quip about how he must have finally managed to grow a pair this season, when he saw a familiar lute case grasped in Lambert’s hand and he froze. Why did Lambert of all people have….oh….no….

Lambert sighed, finally turning to face Geralt and it was only then that he saw the clear signs of distress agitating his expression and he smelled vaguely nervous. “There’s….something I need to tell you.”

read the rest on ao3

___

sorry there were too many italics to copy onto tumblr and stay sane

i am sorry. dw, ill post some softness tomorrow to make up for it.

toss me an ask if you wanna be on my taglist

taglist: @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @barlowarts @eminasan @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @nonegenderleftpain @electricrituals

#witcher #witcher fic #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geraskier fic #eskel #lambert #kaer morhen #winters at kier morhen #princess cirilla #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #saph scibbles #i am genuinely sorry but i wanted him to suffer #it wasn't supposed to end up this bad #tw death #major character death #i really threw everything in my angst aresenal at geralt #ahhhhhh #i miss the bard #i hope hes not dead

[paintingraves]

A Witcher in New York

AU in which MACUSA gets reports of an unusual magical activity in a remote place in the state of New York.

It's bad enough to warrant Percival Graves' official presence in the field. Accompanied by a team of senior aurors, he apparates to the right coordinates and they find themselves in front of a creepy estate with a garden left to abandon and a decaying manor.

They split to explore the place... until they find a man, lying on the ground unconscious and grievously wounded. He has white dirty hair and wears a medieval-looking armor with pieces of his gear scattered about - there's a real sword and a dagger, a crossbow, and several broken vials of potions the Aurors can't identify. The wounded man holds one of them tightly in his hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.

The sulfur smell of dark, powerful magic lingers in the air around them. But there is no immediate threat, so Percival calls for his Aurors to lower their weapons and call a healer. They have to save this strange man, must know who he is and where he came from.

*

Geralt of Rivia wakes up in a magical hospital with no sword, no armor, feeling completely disoriented, but alive. He has to get out of here, now.

He tries to move but there are tiny tubes of unknown material inside his arms and attached to something he can't identify with a pocket of unknown fluid and Geralt rips them off of him in a panic. He gets out of the bed and staggers around the room trying to find his clothes or something suitable. Where is Jaskier? Last thing he remembers is them fighting a mage - then complete blackout. Gods he hopes the bard is okay.

Geralt goes to the window and tries to open it but it resists even his strength. He heads to the door and there are people behind it, two of them on either side. They're guarding him. But they have no weapon or visible armor of any kind. They don't look like any enemy or friend Geralt knows. He thinks it wouldn't be too hard to get rid of them and get the hell out of wherever this place is if he could only get the bloody door to open!

Alas it is not meant to be. Something in the room starts producing a shrill sound, like the regular ringing of a bell and Geralt claps his hands over his ears with a groan. It's too much - the sound is too loud, the lights are too bright and he doesn't know where he is.

He glances to the door again, and there's a third person looking at him through the circular glass, a man with dark, assessing eyes. He nods to someone and then the door clicks open and the man comes in, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. Geralt steps backwards. The man is dressed in weird clothes (he's never seen anything like this in the Four Kingdoms) and he carries himself with an air of powerful, carefully constructed dominance and authority that seems to permeate the air around him. This is a man who imposes respect when he walks into a room, but Geralt has met monsters and men far more terrifying than he. He stands up straighter, locks his jaw, crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the man to make a first move.

"I'm Percival," the man says, pointing at himself. Then he says a string of words Geralt can't understand. But he doesn't attack. Per-ceee-vol. That must be his name. It doesn't help Geralt's case to know it but it's a start.

He puts a hand on his chest. "Geralt. Where the fuck am I?"

Percival makes a face. The two Aurors behind him are confused. "What did he just say?"

"What language was that?!"

"Sounds a bit like Polish, except... Not."

"Quiet, you two." Percival rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck. This makes everything more complicated. Kohen, we need a translation spell as soon as possible. Go to MACUSA, find Ross and get back here quickly. I need a sheet of paper. Best not to do magic in front of this guy till we figure out where he's from... He might react badly."

"Yes sir," Kohen nods and leaves the room. Geralt watches the man go and tilts his head. His eyes are the most peculiar color Percival has ever seen. They're yellow, slitted like a snake's, and definitely not human. But he doesn't look like any of the humanoid creatures Percival knows (and he's read Newt Scamander's famous Bestiary thrice, so he knows what he's talking about.)

"What the fuck is going on?" The man, Geralt, says, glaring daggers at Percival. It's unsettling. Graves doesn't let it show.

Julia had stepped out for a brief second to conjure a sheet of paper and a pen. She hands them to Percival who thanks her. He hesitates briefly, but it's the only means of communication they have right now. So he draws a poor representation of the man in front of him - white hair and all - lying on the ground eyes closed next to a looming mansion. He shows the drawing to Geralt, who steps closer to examine it with an unreadable expression.

"These are some good lines, sir," Julia says, and Percival grimaces.

"That's you," he tells Geralt, pointing at the man on the drawing then him. Next he draws himself with mild success, and a team of shocked-looking stick figures. "And that's us. We found you. Healed you." He draws an unhappy looking Geralt with an obvious injury (changing the color of the pen silently with a charm to draw blood) then an arrow and a happy looking Geralt healed in a hospital bed. The man seems to understand. He nods, which is a relief, then makes a move to take the paper. Percival gives him, curious to see what he'll do.

In a corner Geralt draws a detailed sword (damn, but he's talented) as well as the rest of the gear they found with him. Percival nods and slaps a hand on his chest to say he has kept them. "They're safe," he says, then resolves to show them to him once he can. Geralt looks unsure. Then he draws a man's head, with curly dark hair and a feathered hat and... A lute?

"Dandelion," he says, pointing at the man. "Jaskier. Where is he?"

Percival shakes his head, and Geralt looks distressed. But they haven't seen the second man, there was only him. Frustrated, Geralt turns the paper over and begins to scribble furiously. He's not done when Kohen comes back with Ross, their translator, a thin bespectacled man who looks way too happy to be here.

Geralt shoves his new drawing in Percival's face. It's him, looking fierce in full armor and fighting something huge and monstrous. "I'm a Witcher," he says. Percival is distracted by the tiny horse drawn in background of the illustration. "Oh, that's Roach, my horse."

Percival nods as though he understood all of that. "Ross, a little help?"

"Certainly sir." Ross clears his throat, holds up his hands and says something short in Latin. "That should do it. Hello."

"You... speak my language," Geralt says, surprised.

"Sort of."

"Where am I?"

"You're in New York City, in the United States of America, in a hospital. Mr. Graves and his team received reports of an unusual magical activity near an abandoned manor, and found you. You were wounded. The doctors healed you. You're fine now, and safe, but we have questions for you."

That was a lot to take in. Geralt's mind was reeling. New... York? He'd never heard of such a place. "Where in the Four Kingdoms is that place you speak of?"

"Where are you from?" Ross asked.

"The Continent. Rivia. I'm a Witcher. I was raised in Kaer Morhen."

"Where is that?"

"In the North."

"Like... Iceland? Russia?"

"No."

"Another world?" Ross murmured, his glasses askew.

"... Perhaps." Geralt inclined his head. He'd heard such stories before. "Where are my weapons?"

"Mr. Graves keeps them in his office, don't worry."

"I need to go home," Geralt said. "I need them. And my clothes."

"Right, of course we'll bring you clothes. As for going home, we'll try to figure out how we are happened and send you back. You said you're a Witcher?"

"Yes."

"Meaning?"

"Monster hunter," Geralt grunted. "I find and kill vampired, ogroids, werewolves, griffins, ghouls, anything that threatens the peace of our world. That's my job."

Ross emitted a low whistle. In English, he said, "Well, Newt wouldn't like him. Alright. We don't have monster hunters here."

"What are you then?"

"We're... wizards."

There was a spark of recognition in Geralt's eyes. "Like mages?"

"... I guess so?"

"I don't like mages. They spell trouble."

"Why - in your world perhaps Geralt. But here we work to protect the magical world, kind of like you do. Like... Soldiers."

"Hmm."

"Which is why we need to understand where you came from and how it could happen. We can't risk other creatures from your world coming into this one. Magic and monsters are only legends for the majority of the population here."

"I see."

"Right. So. Clothes. Then you’ll be coming with us to MACUSA, where your things await you. And we'll ask you more questions. Is that alright?"

"Sure."

".. Okay." Ross turned to Percival. "There's a lot to unpack here. Geralt here is a monster hunter from another world."

"What?" Percival said.

"I know! Exciting, isn't it? Now he's willing to follow us - because he knows you have his stuff - but he wants to go home as soon as possible."

"Understandable. Tell him we'll do everything we can to send him back." Ross did so. "And let's get this man some proper clothing. Fuck." Percival rubbed at his eyes again. "I guess it was too much to ask for one single, peaceful day."

Geralt smiled at him, showing all his sharp teeth, and Percival cursed.

#Percival Graves #The witcher #Geralt of Rivia #Yes it's another unlikely crossover who do you think i am #My fic #Txt #Lmao

[drkcnry67]

Sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

A/n: this is for 4 different bingo challenges... hope people like this one! Show it some love if you loved it.

Title: sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

Pairing: dean x reader

Spn Dark sq: free space (shadow/fear demon)

Share the love bingo sq: sleeping beauty

Fluff sq: soulmate AU

H&H sq: Gabriel

Rating: pg-13

summery: not telling

created for @spnfluffbingo​  @spndarkbingo​  @heavenandhellbingo​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​

Once upon a time in a kingdom oh so far away lived a king & his fair queen. for many years they had longed for a child & finally their wish was granted.

a daughter born to them whom they called YN. for they named her after the dawn for she filled their hearts with sunshine. a great holiday planned to honor the princess for the entire kingdom rejoiced at her birth.

as more people graced the party, the party got stronger. amongst those to arrive were King John & his son Prince Dean. fondly had these monarchs dreamed that one day their kingdoms unite.

thus that day they announced Dean, John’s son and Heir to Castiel’s daughter be betrothed. so to her his gift he brought as he looked unkowing on his future bride.

Page: their most honored and exalted excellencies, the 3 good fairies. Mistress Claire, Mistress Jo & mistress Alex...

the 3 fairies approached, now addressing Castiel and his queen.

Fairies: your majesties!

in courtly fashion they all curtsied.

Claire: each of us the child may bless with a single gift, no more no less.

claire approached the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Claire: little princess, my gift shall be the gift of beauty...

~one gift, beauty rare. full of sunshine in her hair. lips that shame the red red rose. she’ll wake with springtime wherever she goes.~

Jo was next to approach the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Jo: tiny princess, my gift shall be the gift of song.

~one gift, the gift of song. melody her whole life long. the nightingale’s her troubadour. bringing her sweet serenade to her door.~

Alex stepped up to the craddle, she walked and raised her want tostart her speech but something soon would disrupt her wish.

Alex: “sweet princess, my gift shall be...

a gust of wind blows blazing through the castle doors, they swing wide open. with wind and thunder crashing through, in a blaze of fire in the middle of the crowd appeared Rowena.

Claire, jo and Alex all in states of shock at the sight of Rowena who speaks now.

Rowena: well quite the glittering assemblage King Castiel. Royalty, nobility, the gentry and how quaint even the rebel.

alex tries to fly towards Rowena but is held back by Claire.

Rowena: i really felt quite distressed at not recieving an invitation

Alex now more than a little peaved speaks.

Alex: you weren’t wanted.

Rowena: not wa...? oh dear, what an awkward situation. i had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. well in that event i’d best be on my way. 

queen: and your not offended your excellency?

Rowena: why no your majesty. and to show i bear no ill will i too shall bestwo a gift on the child. 

the fairies back up to protect the craddle. 

rowena: listen well all of you! the princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. but, before the sun sets on her 16th birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel & die.

queen: oh no!

queen takes her child in her arms as rowena maniacly laughing...

castiel: seize that creature!

rowena: stand back you fools!

in a flash of fire and lightning as well as laughter rowena disappeared!

Claire: dont despair your majesties, Alex still has her gift to give.

Castiel: then she can undo this fearful curse?

Alex: oh no sire.

Jo: Rowena’s powers are far too great.

Claire: but she can help.

Alex: but...

Jo: just do your best dear!

Claire: yes...

Alex rolls up her sleeves and proceeds to speak her part.

Alex: sweet princess, if through this wicked witches trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still maybe in this, the gift i give to thee. not in death, but just in sleep the fateful prophecy shall keep, and from thy slumber thee shall wake when true loves kiss the spell shall break.

~for true love conquers all~

but castiel still fearful of his daughter’s life, did then and there decre that every spinning wheel on that very day be burnt. so it was done!

~this is the first jump out of fairytale reality and into our own reality where dean is picking up watching this classic fairytale & trying to get some shudeye.~

dean: if i have one more flippin’ dream about this movie im gonna kill someone.

sam: dont worry about it Dean, its not gonna get better with you yelling & screamin’... now try to get some sleep! we have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow!

Dean: yeah your right.

Dean throws his headphones on again trying to coax himself into a relaxing sleep. which Gabriel  had set so Dean would not wake from his sleep till the story would finish, then his destined quest would begin.

Gabriel: sweet dreams Dean. you have a really rude awakening ahead of you... everything you know is about to change...

gabriel casts his curse & leaves dean to his tormented slumber that which awaits him.

~jump back into the story, where we find the 3 fairies talking with Castiel and the queen~

Claire: your majesty please consider this a kind of protection detail, this will allow your sweet YN to grow up in peace without the worry of her pricking her finger when her 16th birthday hath fully passed your sweet YN will be returned to you. to ensure the curse does not come true.

queen: you 3 have always been here even when we havent always honored it, we do so appreciate your loyalty and protection. this has surely been a trying day for us and we are honored to have you 3 commited to helping us protect our daughter.

Castiel:  and it is on our honor that, you 3 shall go with our blessing. please be careful & guard our child well...

many hours later after dark, the king and his queen watched with heavy hearts as thier most precious possesssion their only child disappeared into the night..

many sad and lonely years passed for King Castiel and his peopple. but as the time for the pincess’ 16th birthday drew near, the entire kingdom began to rejoice. for everyone knew that as long as rowena’s domain, the forbidden mountains, thundered with her wrath and frustration her evil prophecy had not yet been fullfilled. 

rowena yells at her incompetant servents, they encur her wrath. rowena sends out her own raven to search for the princess. 

and so for 16 long years, dean had been learning how to live life as a prince. while the wereabouts of the princess remained a secret, the faires carried out their long laid planes living like mortals.

the fairies send Yn to collect some berries while they argue about the kind of last birrthday party they wish to give her, the dress color the cake and the cleaning something extra special for their last night as her guardians.

YN decides to stop in the glen... she feels like something is wrong thats when your real self breaks through... 

YN: omg what am i doing in here? 

as you keep singing you try to remember wht happened to put you in here. sure was your fave movie but it was not how you wanted to live.

Dean was riding Chuck the horse, the scene still happens the singing in the glade, dean hearing your singing following the animals that are stealing his cape, boots and hat. 

your still singing by yourself but now kinda talking to the animals. after that kind of normal conversation you notice that some of your animal friends have come back dressed as a prince. you started singing and continued to dance with your animal friends, but thats when Dean had snuck up and hid in the bush, he waited for his oportune moment.

YN: but if i know you, i know what you’ll do, you’ll love me at once... the way you did...

thats when your vocals were interrupted by another voice to complete your song.

Dean: once upon a dream.

though it wasnt exactly ideal, your hands interacting, it felt more real than you had this entire time. waltzing through the glade by the lake, made your real self shine through. Dean could feel his real self shine through as well.

Dean: are you real?

that question made you look at him instantly. another person whose not really the character he is pretending to be.

YN: you’re real... your an actual person, not just a fairytale character?

Dean: yes, i’m real, what’s your name?

YN: YN, outside this ever turning story book fairytale movie thing im a hunter.... this story just keeps repeating itself everytime someone watches this movie. i have no idea what the hell put me into this neverending storybook. im annoyed greatly but strange thing is i can’t feel any connection right now to my actual body...

Dean: im a hunter as well. my name is Dean. i hunt everything that goes bump in the night from ghosts to demons and everything in between. i am also not sure how i got in here.

YN: your a hunter as well... i thought i was the only one.

Dean: whats the last thing you can remember before waking up here in the story?

YN: i was on a strange case, one thing made me think it was a werewolf. one thing made me think it was a ghost. one thing made me think it was a poltergeist. i remember walking out of my hotel room and that is it. nothing else after that. it sends shivers down my spine when i think of what may be going on with my actual body. how did you end up in here?

Dean: last thing i rememebr is turning on the movie to watch/listen too while i try to sleep. thats it... i have no fucking idea how i ended up in here. as to you saying that you can feel no connection to your physical body, something magical must be blocking the connection, but non-the-less i want to help you. i will finish the story so i can get out of here and find you. i will slay whatever i have to in order to free you, in the story and in reality. i will not rest till i rescue you.

you both continued on in the story, as they say it must continue or the end will not come. but it was nice for both of you to know that neither of you were alone. 

the 3 fairies gave you your birthday surprise and told you of your true heritage then whisked you away to the castle where they hid you; dean showed up at the cottage where Rowena prince-napped him; you are led away by rowena’s curse to prick your finger in a hidden tower room the 3 fairies find you laying you down in “your” room; then they put the kingdom to sleep till someone can wake their sweet YN. 

~meanwhile outside the story Sam is working with other people to figure out what happened to dean. Ellen, Jo and Bobby all were doing everything they could to help Sam figure out what happened to Dean.~

 Back in the story: many sleeping people but the fairies were trying to find out who the handsome stranger was that their sweet Yn had been talking about. they figured he might be their key to saving her. 

but soon it was claire who had been doing a round to make sure all of her section was asleep but it was John’s voice that caught her ear for he started talking about how he had spoken to Dean who had been raving about some pesent girl and how Dean had said he was gonna marry her and such. 

claire managed to suss out that it was Dean that Yn had met in the forest. the words she had heard from John that had firmed her suspicions were Peasent girl & once upon a dream...

claire flies back to Jo and Alex and speaks in raced tones of panic.

Claire: the young man that YN was talking about is Prince Dean. come on girls we have to get back to the cottage.

as fast as their wings could carry them, they rushed back to the cotage but alas were too late for all they found was Dean’s hat no Dean. they conclude that it must have been Rowena who has dean trapped in her forbiiden palace. their minds made up immediately, they had to go there.

Dean, the only one true person who is able to awaken their Sweet YN... they had to find him to save her. off they went no plan in hand just ‘winging’ it as they went, weaving their way through the grounds passed the guards... 

Rowena was in her throne room watching her lackys celebrate. to her raven she speaks.

Rowena: what a pitty prince Dean cant be here to enjoy the celebration. come my pet let us go to the dungeon and cheer him up...

the raven she was just talking too cawed at her as she got up and started walking towards the dungeon where she had been keeping dean.

~*reality jump!!! Dean is still unconcious while Sam is runnning around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to figure out what the hell happened to his brother*~

Sam: i don’t want lecutures. i want to know what happened to Dean.

Bobby: dont worry boy, dean is strong, he will pull through whatever is happening to him. do you have any theories?

Sam: im thinking maybe some sort of curse or something but no signs of any hex bags or nothing surrounding dean. there has to be something we are overlooking. some angle that we have missed.

~*back in the story, dean is stuck in the dungeon not even phased when rowena walks in the door.*~

Rowena: oh come now prince dean why so mellon colly. a wondrous future awaits you. you the destined hero of a charming fairytale come true.

the fairies arrive in the window hiding from the raven and rowena but witness what rowena depicts to Dean through her Staff.

Rowena: behold, king castiel’s castle &and in yonder top most tower, dreaming of her true love, the princess YN. but see the gracious whim of fate. why tis the same said peasent maid who won the heart of our noble prince the other day. she is indeed most wondrous fair. gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red red rose. in ageless sleep she finds repose. the years roll by, but a hundred years to a stead fast hear are ‘bout a day. and now, the gates of the dungeon part and our prince is free to go his way. off he rides on his noble steed. a valiant figure, straight & tall to wake his love with love’s first kiss & prove that true love conquers all...

Dean struggles against his chains, alex starts towards rowena but is held back by Claire as rowena brings her raven back onto her shoulder as they prepare to exit the dungeon she says one final thing in Deans presense.

Rowena: ah my pet let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts.

she exits the dungeon leaving Dean struggling against his bonds. the 3 fairies enter the cell using their magic to release dean from the chains and unlock the door. Dean starts towards the door but is stopped by Claire who proceeds to speak.

Claire: wait prince Dean, the road to true love may yet still be barred by much more dangers, which you alone shall have to face. so arm thyself with this enchanted shield of virtue, and this mighty sword of truth. for these weapons of righteousness shall triumph over evil. now come we must hurry.

out of the dungeon they went but rowena’s raven had stayed behind after rowena and the raven exited the dungeon. he started cawing at them, Dean was thinking this would be easy escape. but he was wrong. the raven was bringing an army of lackies downt he stairs to them. dean begins to fight them off.

Claire: quick Dean jump out the window.

Dean jumps out the same window as the fairies, but some rocks start falling towards Dean. Claire notices and speaks quickly.

Claire: Dean watch out!

Claire turns the rocks into bubbles. then a wall of arrows quickly turned into a wall of flying flowers, alex went down to free chuck. dean rides off on chuck towards the gate where hot oil is thrown, claire turns it into a rainbow.

the chase of a lifetime made alex proud as she chased that raven to the top of rowena’s tower & turned it to stone. this made rowena emerge, freshly woken from her sleep she goes to yell at her raven but discovers that her pet has been turned into stone. 

she watches from her balcony as the drawbridge is being raised, dean and the fairies are heading straight for it, the fairies help him make the jump. chuck keeps running, carrying Dean as quick possible, dodging rowena’s two spells that she has cast causing them to fail. 

in straight eye sight for Dean and the fairies is the castle, but before they can reach it Rowena makes her second last attempt to stop them.

Rowena: a forest of thorns shall be his tomb. born from the skies in a fog of doom. now go with a curse and serve me well. round Castiel’s castle cast my spell.

a black cloud appears over the castle, lightning striking the grounds around, thus causes icky thicky black thorns to grow in large bushes between Dean and the castle. 

Dean stops before them, drawing his sword he fights his way through the thorns this let him out just before the bridge to the castle. rowena seeing this appears before Dean in a firey blaze for her final attempt to stop them.

Rowena: now shall ye deal with me oh prince & all the powers of hell!

Dean and the fairies watch as Rowena using every ounce of power she had left to transform herself into a huge fire spying dragon. Dean begins what turns into a short-ish fight but retreats hastly reaching a wall he climbs high. 

our prince is now trapped on a cliff, another blaze of fire this causes Dean to loose his shield off the side of the cliff. Claire jo & alex bring their collective magic together near the prince they cast this on the sword.

Claire: now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die & good endure.

dean throws the sword at the dragon piercing its heart. rowena lunges one final time but falls off a cliff to her downfall. dean is then lead down the cliff and to the castle, up to the tower where you lay in slumber waiting for this moment. Dean kneeling by your sleeping form placed a light kiss to your lips. 

you wake up just as time freezes. Dean helps you stand up. both of you looking around. yes the entire movie was frozen. puzzled you both stand in front of eachother. 

Dean: now whats happening.

you went to open your hand to grab Dean’s but something fell to the floor. Dean reached down to pick it up. he unfolded it and proceeded to read what was upon it.

Dean (reading note): congratulations! Defeating that witch takes care of one of my issues, that was of course the easy part. your next task Dean is to find your destiny, yes your destiny lies within the form of this girl. you must go back to reality and find her body and wake her up once you do everything and i do mean EVERYTHING will become clear. want a clue? here it is: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of _________ in the final resting place of _________...” i look forward to seeing you very very soon. try to hurry i hear there is trouble on your horizons. 

now you both were very very very confused. this is what caused you to pop up and say..

YN: what the hell kind of clue was that? any idea what he is talking about? wait does that mean im not in my hotel room anymore. that someone or something moved my body?

Dean: that is exactly what it means and i will do everything in my capable power to find you. hopefully when i get back to reality this paper goes with me... 

just as he finished speaking a portal opens, visions of dean’s unconcious body appear along with Sam and others going frantic over what happened to Dean.

Dean: Yn, i give you my solem oath that i will not rest till you are safe by my side, i will fight whoever, go wherever, do whatever i have to in order to save you. dont give up hope and pray that this loop does not repeat for you. pray this time freeze does not disappear when i walk through that portal. 

YN: i have faith in you Dean please hurry. i look forward to never leaving your side.

Dean placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before he walked through the portal. you sat on the bed and watched as Time remained frozen but you were once again alone.

Dean arrived back in his own body, he sat straight up and scared the living daylights out of his brother, bobby and several others all of whom embraced Dean. 

Dean then went to where Sam’s laptop was and began searching the lore, the myths and legends specifically. when Sam approached him about what he was doing, Dean presented sam with that note. suddenly it made mroe sense to Sam, who left Dean in the charge of Jo while he, bobby and ellen all went to grab food and booze. 

Jo: what happened to you?

Dean: one minute i was in that bed trying to fall asleep using a disney movie & the next thing i know im inside the movie. im telling you i would have preferred Hell. but i wasnt the only person from reality stuck in the movie. there was a girl, she said she is a hunter too she was on a strange case when she found herself in the movie. she has no idea of how long she has been in there. she also thinks her body has been moved. this piece of paper proves that someone or something is holding her body somewhere and its up to me to find this girl. at this point nothing else matters. i made her a promise now i have to keep it. 

Jo: let me see the paper again...

Dean hands Jo the paper and after a few moments of staring at it she takes a pen and fills in the blanks... thats when the paper glowed... and revealed a magical map... 

Dean: how did you do that?

Jo just smiled and laughed...

Jo: im really good at fill in the blanks. its a natural talent i get it from mom... your clue should have finished like this:   “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of Romania in the final resting place of Dracula...”

Dean hugged her, he knew where he had to go now but how the hell was he gonna get there. it was then that Dean went to load several of his handhelds and load onto his back a machete load up some ammo clips. 

he didnt know what to expect but he was certain that being cautious was better than being stupid. he was not gonna walk in there half assed. he needed to be as prepared as could be. however thats when bobby, sam and ellen walked back into the room. 

Sam: Dean what are you doing?

Dean: im getting ready before i call cas for transport. this will allow me to not get dinged by airport security and not to become sea sick either. but i hope honestly that this mission im about to embark on is gonna be beneficial. 

Bobby: what the hell do you think your doing? never mind that where are you going?

Dean: romania, Jo has the knowledge on why i am going to romania, she will fill you guys in... ill take my burger to go. put my pie in the fridge. 

once Dean is ready to go, he stands in the center of the room and smiles back at the others but then Jo pipes up and goes to stand beside Dean with a backpack on her back... 

Dean: Jo what...

Jo: im not letting you walk into your destiny alone. do not for one second think im not gonna jump at this opportunity to hunt with you, to help you to find your destiny. you helped me once to know what my destiny was, now its my turn to repay the favor.

Dean takes Jo by the hand as he in a stern voice he speaks the following words. 

Dean: Castiel get your oh holy feathery ass down here i need a lift and your my ticket to my next destination.

cas comes to the hotel room and approaches Dean & Jo.

Castiel: where am i taking you and your friend here...

Dean: transylvania and dude once we land you cant be there... it will not be helpful for you to be there. this is a mission i have to do alone. me and my friend here go through the rest of the process alone. 

Cas only nods completely understanding on what his friend has asked of him. he takes Dean and Jo to Transylvania. then once they are safe on the ground again cas leaves. 

Dean: okay now to look at this magic map and figure out where we are and where the resting place of Dracula is... 

Jo: well lets first of all make sure we are prepared before we go into town. i did a bit of research apparently they dont trust strangers here. we need to show them that we mean no harm. or just keep our noses down and pass through without being detected. 

Dean: well lets see what the map says. 

Jo leads Dean to a rock as she lays out the map... 

Jo: these 2 dots over here are us... but what is that red dot over yoner on this map... look there is a multicolored one too.... 

Dean: the multicolored one is my destiny, the red one has to be what is holding her captive. 

jo notices some writing appearing on the map after a few moments. 

Jo: whats that say...

Dean: it says, “inside the castle you face your fears, beat them out till you cant no more. fears and demons go hand in hand but if you beat them in order to save your destiny. this is to be your greatest reward.” what the hell does that mean... 

Jo: it means no matter what we need to get to that castle. 

hand in hand they get their tracks moving towards the path...

Jo: i really hope the story of transylvania is fake... 

Dean: you mean the fact that as soon as the sun goes down werewolves and vampires come out to play... you and me both but hey if they do we are fully prepared. this place is on top of a supernatural time  bomb. everything that goes bump in the night comes out after sunset. 

both dean and jo look up into the sky the last bit of light leaves the tree line. 

Dean: have your silver bullets and machete ready just in case... we are not taking any chances. we have to get to that castle. 

Jo: dont worry we will... 

Dean smiles as both of them continue making their way through the forst, a little quicker than normal pace. the sun had now fully set, the light that had been guiding them was gone. 

Jo: just follow the path the map says this will lead us to the castle where your destiny awaits you. Dean are you sure we...

thats when she stopped speaking... her words cut out... Dean pulled out his machete and quickly brought it to face the enemy that now held his best friend back. 

Shadow entity: ah so the prodigal has come for his prize.. well i think ill take a  constitution to ensure that you follow the rules, to ensure the balance is complete, to ensure that we are all in clarity to our debts. to this i have something to say this to you: you are part of the same card, the girl i have sleeping right now is not going to wake up without her other half. you have not done anything to earn her freedom, so i take your friend as kind of a wake up call to the horrors that which wait you inside. this castle has its own story but to unlock its secrets you must face your fears. face them down Dean, only then will you have earned her freedom. see you real soon.

the shadow figure disappears with Jo... Dean picks up her bag and keeps his machete on hand as he continues walking. following the map as he heard the soft crunching of his boots under the snow. winter sure is warmish in whats supposed to be the coldest part of romania. 

Dean (to self): i have no idea what the hell is going on but i now have 2 bright lights to save i am just hoping i can conquer whatever appears before me... Jo for your courage please be my light. guide me to where you are... my dear sister. 

meanwhile Jo has been placed in a room, where you lay in wait for your destiny. Jo takes one look at you and she smiles. she knows that you are definately dean’s destiny and then she speaks the following words. 

Jo: in all my years i had never thought Dean would find his destiny, never after he helped me find mine i swore i would help him find his, now Dear Brother please follow my light...

Dean stops a quick moment to catch his breath and look at the map... he then sees Jo’s dot on the map glow brighter... it acts as a flashlight lighting up the path he must walk. 

after several more steps and following his light he arrives at the castle.

 Dean: here i com ladies... dont loose hope.

Dean holding his machete walked inside the castle.. the first thing he saw was the vision of himself as a demon tellig hm that he was gonna die alone and that he would become that... he told that vision that he would always have a family beside him even if they werent around that cared for him that would never abandon him.

that he went on his way still fllowing the light o the ground he comes accross the first blade which tells him that he fears being back in hell torturing souls and how good it made him feel. dean tells it that he will never and shall never go back to hell and never will he torutue those who dont deserve it again.

a few more fears tried to get dean to turn away from this quest, tried to get him to fail but nothing worked. the last area on the map was a long corridor it looked as thought there was a figure about mid way down. 

the map let off a warning flash meaning there was danger approaching. Dean speaks once more to whatever is trying to face him down.

Dean: i address the entity in front of me. who are you? why have you brought me to this awful place?

Shadow: i am the demonic shadow of Count Dracula and I have brought you here so you can face me in the ultimate battle. Either I will be finally put to rest or I will be made whole again. do you accept my challenge?

Dean drops the bags and keeps both his guns and his machete as he speaks.

Dean: look dumn ass, i dont know who your the spirit or entitiy of but this is not how things are run in my world. in my world the good guys win and the bad guys loose. now if you stand aside and let me wake my destiny and save my sister then you might just get to be put back to sleep again. or ill succeed and kill you right now. your choice, i’m good either way. 

Shadow: you dare to think you stand a chance against me, how cute. very well, if its death you choose then allow me to help you with that.

Dean moved out of the way as the shadow lunged toward him, missed and just landed again.. Dean then shot out 6 rounds of dead mans blood rounds all aimed at shadow-Dracula, he dodged those. 

shadow: tell you what, ill make you a deal if you surrender now ill give you ten long years to spend with your so called “destiny” in exchange for you letting me out of here with my life. 

Dean: how bout not a prayer. eat bullets instead.

Dean unloads the rest of the bullets in a circular form at the ground around shadow-dracula. completing the devils trap... 

Dean: oh wait you dont need to eat the bullets cause your history pal... 

Shadow-dracula looked down and around himself, the look that he now sported was one of fear. he was the one that now was terrified. 

Shadow: this is impossible no one imprisons the great Dracula. 

Dean: oh buddy im gonna do alot more than that, time for you to go back to where you came from. 

Dean stands up tall as he then speaks the same words he had spoken previously hundreds upon hundreds of times. 

Dean:  Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audios bitch!

that was all Dean had to say the shadow of Dracula was no more. he went back to grab the bags and continued forward... he shot the lock on the doors and kicked them open. 

Jo: Dean you found us... i believe you know what to do romeo... put everything down ill prepare to treat any wounds and such that show themselves once you wake her. 

Dean: Jo it was dracula, the shadow outside the door was dracula’s shadow. i cant believe his shadow was so hostile. i mean if i hadnt wasted 2 clips of amo drawing out a devils trap i would have lost the fight. 

Jo: ya ya ya okay dude, you have an overdue appointment with destiny over on that bed, now drop the bags and go. 

Dean knew jo would have kicked his ass if he didnt listen. he did as told, he dropped the bags and walked over to kneel beside you. he brushed some hair from your forehead..

Dean: together now and always i have always been your once upon a dream.

his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. he pulled back after a few seconds and waited to see if it workd. a while later you open your eyes and touch Dean’s cheek. 

YN: you found me?

Dean: did you doubt i would? i said i would and i keep my promises. this girl over here is my sister Jo.  she is gonna give you the once over and then ill call for our ride out of here once she has you in a clean set of clothes. im gonna make sure we are still safe... i will call cas once we are all ready.

Dean leaves you in the hands of Jo who hands you some clothes and assesses you making sure you are not hurt. Dean comes back a few moments later and calls cas to come bring you all home. 

Cas came brought you, dean and Jo back to the hotel. you and dean were gonna take some time to figure out what everything meant. this was when a bright light came upon the entire room. 

Dean: whats going on?

thats when Gabriel appeared in the room. everyone had hand guns on him immediately. but he speaks not with hostility but with normality.

Gabriel: ah winchesters and friends. do not be alarmed for YN and Dean have been written in the stars since the beginning of time. Dean and Yn im sorry for trapping you both in that sleeeping curse it was the only way to get you both to listen to reason. to listen to your hearts. i was only trying to get you both to follow the rules that destiny had for you. 

Dean: then why show up and tell us about it now...

Gabriel: cause i knew if i didnt it would have been alot worse later on. 

Dean: what happens now?

Gabriel: well with your permission i could marry you and Yn right here right now... if you both agree. 

you and Dean exchange looks before smiling.

Dean: when do we begin?

Gabriel snapped his fingers and the room transformed into a garden glade type thing. before you and Dean could say anything else you were taken from grungy hotel room to garden glade. 

Gabriel: we are gathered here today to join Dean and YN in the ever holy bonds of Matrimony. this holy bond is a sacred gift, that deserves to be protected cherish it now and always. now i am assuming that there are no objections to this holy union.

the room was silent as Gabriel held his hand out and 2 silver bands appeared clearly made for you and Dean. 

Gabriel: vows or no vows.

Dean: what more needs to be said, we already said everything we needed to... we know what we are. we have our feelings, we need no words for them.

Gabriel: very well, Dean take the band and tell Yn what you think should go with this ring!

Dean takes the ring and slowly slides it on your finger as he reveals whats in his heart. 

Dean: YN after the movie and what i had to do to rescue you. i have to say that im 100% positive about you being the single most best thing that has ever stepped into my path of life. i promise now and always to honor, love cherish and whatever else goes with that... i love you Yn your the best part of me now.

you take the ring and you do the same thing.

YN: Dean, when i met you in the movie i was unsure of your intentions. then it was your beautiful green eyes that made me swoon. now i stand here to say i too now and forever more will honor, love, cherish and everything else that goes with it for the rest of my life. you are an amazing man Dean Winchester i love you so much and i cant wait to be your wife and have your last name. 

Gabriel: by the powers and laws bestowed on me by Heaven, i now am honored to pronounce you husband and wife. Dean you may now kiss your beautiful wife. 

Dean kisses you with so much passion. there was nothing to do for everyone else except cheer and clap. 

everyone lived happily ever after. well at least once upon a dream!

#thisismysecrethappyplacesharethelove #spndarkbingo #spnfluffbingo #heaven and hell bingo

[princessanneftw]

Lost

In the darkness of her bedroom at Gatcombe Park, a very distressed Princess Anne was sitting on the couch, her mind racing faster than her horses.

Maybe that article was right. Maybe she was not an easy woman to live with. Maybe Tim deserves better than her. Maybe he was tired of her. It was true she was rude to that woman last Christmas, and to her nieces too, but she regretted her actions, and had apologised to the girls when they returned home. She didn't apologise to the lady because she forgot her face and the basket didn't include a card with a name. Maybe that's why Tim was cross with her.

She had also missed his birthday, but he said it was alright and that he'd celebrate it with his mother, and he’d already refused a party. She might’ve still been in the wrong. She had just called him on the phone and gave him his present with no proper celebration, even afterwards. They were more distant now than they had ever been. Her workload having increased tenfold, she was doing a lot of engagements and he was back working at the MoD, in London all week while she was alternating between Gatcombe and St. James’s. Weekends were spent either running the farm or catching up on work. He accompanied her to some engagements but they weren’t the proper place to have "Us" time with one's husband. On top all of that, her fucking hormones - a symptom of her oncoming menopause - were driving her mental. If she thought her mood swings were bad when she was pregnant, they were straight from hell now. Maybe that's why he was so distant. Maybe he had his eye on another woman. A younger, more beautiful woman.

“No, no, no, no..” Anne got up and started pacing the room. Tim wouldn't do it. Would he? He was still young, handsome, polite, a proper gentleman, respectful, a man of duty with a successful career. And she... she was still the same Anne. Same old clothes, same hairstyle, immersed in her job and farm and spent most conversations talking about horses, sailing and lighthouses. She had lost whatever beauty that remained in her mid 30s. No wonder Mark cheated on her. It wasn’t a far possibility Tim would too.

But Tim told he loved her and promised her that he would never cheat on her, that if he ever found another person he would tell her. “Not that any woman could ever take your place Annie,” he had told her late one night as they lay side-by-side. “You're the only woman that I've ever loved, will ever love.. and a person can’t have two soulmates, can they?”

Maybe it could be about children, She knew he loved babies, and he had always dreamt of being a father. Unfortunately, that had never happened for them, but Tim always assured her that being Zara and Pete's stepfather was enough for him, always said he was the luckiest man in the world to have them in his life. But still, something was off.

Last week, she’d met him in the corridor that lead to her mother's office. When asked what he was doing there, he told her he just had a meeting with her mother and her private secretary. Seeing her raised eyebrow, he said that the Queen needed his opinion on something, then left hastily. Later, when she interrogated one of the aides, the poor man was clueless. He only knew that it was the third time this month that Commodore Laurence had had a private meeting with Her Majesty and the second time that her Private Secretary had joined them. It was all very strange, and her mother was no help either. “If Tim said I needed his opinion then I needed his opinion, and no, it's none of your business. Now, would you care for a cup of tea?"

She left her mother with more questions than she had before. She went to her father’s office and he was as clueless as she was, but he wasn't alarmed or suspicious. "I learnt years ago that when your mother makes her mind up about something and she is all secretive, better leave her to her devices or I'll only get a headache."

She tried her best to forget about the subject, but when even her own private secretary and ladies in waiting started acting strangely around her, she almost lost her mind and phoned her mother.

"I want to know what's going on between you and my husband? Even my staff are acting weird."

Her mother only laughed at her. "There is nothing that you should be worried about. He is my only son-in-law and one of the best equerries I had, I don't see why I couldn't have his input sometimes. As for your staff, you should ask yourself how you’re treating them this last year, and be glad no one has resigned." Her mother sighed heavily. “Now, I am about to have dinner with your Papa, we will see you tomorrow,” and she hung up.

Now Anne was sure to leave a hole in the floor of her bedroom by pacing back and forth. Huffing loudly, she stormed out of the room and went to her husband's study where he was locking himself inside since he came back from work, emerging only to have dinner.

Approaching the door, she heard Tim's voice. Apparently he was talking on the phone. His voice was muffled by the door so she could only make out a few of the words he was saying.

"Yes... leave tomorrow evening…  I'd prefer earlier… doesn't suspect… would like until… leave… shock her…she... irritating… wife but… can't stand… her… time to take some actions... I... frustrated…. Love...pleasant dreams"

Anne retreated to her room, changed her clothes and slid into bed with her back to the door, trying hard to hold her tears. Only minutes later, Tim came to the room, went on with his night routine then slid in beside her. She feigned sleep so she wouldn’t have to talk to him, but almost outed herself when he gently gathered her in his arms and kissed the crown of her head, whispering a soft "goodnight love".

For the first time in her life, she felt lost, clueless and utterly confused. Why did her husband call her love and cuddle her when just minutes earlier, he was planning to leave her and was making his displeasure with her clear when he was on the phone? What the hell was going on?

The following day, it was her Granny's birthday. She woke up feeling like she was hit by a train. She didn't know when she’d finally fallen asleep but she knew it was late. Tim had already left the bed. She looked at the clock by her bedside table. 10 A.M. ‘Bloody fantastic,’ she thought. Dragging herself out of bed and into the bathroom, she took a hot bath, changed and by the time she went downstairs, she found her husband in the kitchen.

"Good morning love," he said cheerfully with a kiss. "I went upstairs to wake you up but I heard the water running in the bathroom, thought I’d make you some brunch.” She thanked him, asked about her children then tucked in when he put the food in front of her. He sat on the opposite side of the table reading the newspapers and sipping some coffee.

"I thought perhaps we could go sailing tomorrow and stay until my birthday before we join the rest of the family in Scotland. What do you think?" She asked, testing the waters.

"I'm sorry dear, we can't this time. Maybe after your birthday." He answered, not even bothering to look her in the eye.

"And why is that?" She asked irritated. "Actually, you know what? Don’t bother, I couldn’t give a fuck. I'm leaving for London, you and the kids can catch me later, and she left, fuming. Anne decided to drive herself to Clarence House while her PO followed behind her in another car. She spent the whole drive crying, confused about what was happening in her life. She felt lost. When she finally arrived her eyes were puffy, so she put on her sunglasses to make sure nobody from the crowd gathered outside could notice. When her parents and grandmother asked her why her eyes were swollen, she blamed it on oversleeping. As for her coming early and alone, she stated that she had business to take care of beforehand. Her mother’s look was clear: she didn’t believe her. She went to the bathroom, washed her face and tried her best to fix her make-up. Later on, family members and friends started to arrive, including her children and husband. She plainly ignored Tim, only speaking to him when he gave her the gift bag that she’d forgotten to bring. Nobody seemed to notice. Well, that what she thought until her parents both pulled her aside. They went to a room and closed the door.

"Alright, spit it out," demanded Prince Philip.

"Philip!" scolded his wife, then looked at her daughter. “What your father meant to say was, we noticed that you've been acting strangely. You’re ignoring your husband, your eyes were swollen from crying and, though you’re trying to smile, it isn’t reaching your eyes.. We’re worried about you, Anne. What is going on?"

Anne was surprised that her parents had noticed her dark mood, but it was logical. They were her parents after all. She gathered her strength, breathed deeply and looked them dead on.

"I want to divorce Tim.”

"WHAT?" Both the Queen and The Duke cried but she ignored them.

"I know he’s leaving me, and considering a separation, that's why he was meeting with you recently, and I heard him talking on the phone yesterday. He’s leaving this evening," she explained urgently, "so I want a divorce, I can't let him humiliate me.” She said the last bit, but even she didn’t believe it. Her sweet, loving husband would never do that to her... But she’d heard him on the phone! This had to be the only explanation for what was happening in her life recently.

Her parents looked shocked, when suddenly, her father exploded in a fit of laughter, while her mother chuckled and shook her head. Anne was stunned. They’d lost it. She was about to ask them exactly what was so funny about the idea of her getting divorced a second time, but she was interrupted by a knock at the door. After receiving permission, the person came inside. It was Tim.

"Ah, I'm glad I found you all here,” he said. “I came to bid you farewell, Ma'am. Sir." Anne froze. She felt dizzy. Her whole body went tense. Her heart stopped. Her mouth went dry.

"Why?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Well, because I am leaving an-" she didn't hear the rest of what he said. Blackness enveloped her, and she fainted. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of strong arms catching her.

TBC...

* * *

OMG FFS WHATS HE PLANNING??!

Thank you for sending me this lovely, I really enjoyed it! I’m still not sure what the surprise is, but I liked the elements of truth throughout. Both of them spending a lot of time apart, working hard, Anne getting stressed and paranoid cause hormones and menopause and working a lot. I think the early noughties were a stressful time for them for sure, and you’ve got that in here, if a little dramatised in a different way.

I can’t wait to read the next bit!

#fANNEfiction #submission #cliffhAnneger #i will go down with this ship #crafty boi

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

*tosses coins to my writer* Imagine Jaskier is somewhere at court and a lot of people are playing with him and make a fool out of him but he plays along until the end where he proofs that he isn't a fool (cause he is the bard 😉) and knows what is going on. Even Geralt feels sorry for him and apologizes (well, Geralt's version of an apology) not taking him seriously treating him not treating him well or standing up for him. I am in the mood for some good intrigues.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x Competence Word Count: 1,777Rating: T for swearingTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey a/n: Oh man did I have fun with this! I don’t usually write intrigue stuff cuz frankly that shit is hard but I hope you like it! Thank you for the idea!

Everybody loves a fool.

Loves to mock them, loves to bed them, loves to keep them around to make themselves look better. Jaskier’s talent for performing didn’t end with the lute but this was a role he performed for an audience of one. If anyone else peeked behind the curtain, and some had come close in the past, they would see that the bright blue eyes and charming smile hid a mind just as – or, frankly, more – keen and cunning as any around him. The advantage he possessed was a taste for the fine things in life which people translated as vapid. An error he took advantage of as often as possible.

There were times he nearly told Geralt the truth. Hell, there were times he tried to but the witcher was too determined to see him one way. He focused on the times Jaskier stumbled, and admittedly those weren’t all pretend, he was only human after all. He never seemed to notice the cleverness that aided as much as it sometimes harmed.

Until the ball.

For once Geralt had been the one to lead them to the party. Usually he had to beg the witcher to come but this time he was looking for something.

“Remind me what this thingamajig you’re looking for is,” Jaskier said, running a hand through his hair one final time before heading out towards the manor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Geralt replied, as effusive as always.

“Oh come now, I could help you look for it you know,” Jaskier offered.

“You’ll serve me better by staying out of the way,” was the anticipated response. Thankfully one of the many tools Jaskier possessed was sheer stubbornness.

“What if it’s someplace you’re not able to go, hmm?” Jaskier asked, “Like a salon for entertainers only or well hidden in a corset pocket.”

“Pockets don’t have corsets.”

“Of course they do Geralt, most people just call them breasts.”

His cheeky remark was met with stony silence and a look that bordered on withering.

“What is the harm in me knowing? What if I promise not to actively go searching for it but if I happen to see it I just don’t see the point in me not KNOWING what I’m looking at and-”

“It’s a fucking amulet now will you stay out of the way and let me work?” Geralt snapped. Jaskier considered him for a moment, not a little bit frustrated himself but too smart to show it.

“What does the amulet look like?” he asked.

“Yellow stones, shape of a sun,” Geralt replied, “But Jaskier if you see it, do not touch it. Swear to me that you’ll leave it alone.”

“I won’t touch your bauble, Geralt. I’ll be too busy putting on what may be my best performance yet,” Jaskier said, doing up the buttons of his doublet and then thinking again and undoing them. Geralt grunts, satisfied for the time being that Jaskier will be distracted, and the two set off towards the manor.

 The two fell into their natural pattern, orbiting around each other like planets in the heavens. Geralt traveled around the perimeter of the room while Jaskier proudly stood in the middle, performing songs that ranged from bawdy to beautiful to some strange mix of the two that could make you blush and sigh in a single breath. Jaskier wasn’t oblivious to the sneering of some of the nobles around him. Though he was technically of noble birth his choice in profession as a traveling bard wasn’t up to the standards the people here held. When he took his break to wander the room and chat up the people he’d caught giving him interested looks he heard some of the unkinder comments they made comfortably within his earshot.

“…travels with that Witcher, can you imagine?”

“…Countess de Stael finally got right of him, I can’t imagine why she kept him around for so long.”

“….o Marx should be here now that is a performer.”

Some of the words were heartfelt, others just spoken to rile him. Every now and then he saw Geralt glowering at whoever had spoken the words, but he kept to himself, still searching from the outside for the amulet. Jaskier feigned obliviousness and continued to flirt and charm the men and women who pulled him into their little cliques. Each took their turn offering backhanded compliments and making less than subtle propositions. He acted properly flustered and proud and honored and when the hostess and her lover (Jaskier had figured that out in an instant, the husband clearly hadn’t yet, ah well) crept into the library to speak they took Jaskier with him.

“Lord I will be pleased when this is all done with,” the hostess said, flopping down into a chair seated before the unlit hearth.

“When the devil are we getting on with it anyway?” the lover asked.

“What extraordinary gilding,” Jaskier said, complimenting the arch above the door. He’d learned that the best way to overhear what you clearly weren’t supposed to wasn’t to skulk about and try to make them forget you weren’t there. It was better to just make yourself seem distracted and oblivious. The hostess smiled at him like one might a particularly clever pet and then turned her attention back to her lover

“I’ve slipped it in his cloak pocket. Tomorrow when he puts it on for his morning ride he’ll pull it out and think it’s just one of my trinkets but that’s all be has to do, touch it,” she explained.

“You know when you invited me in here I rather thought we would be doing more than talking,” Jaskier said, breaking into their conversation and leveling the hostess with a seductive smile. The lover glowered but the hostess smiled sweetly at him.

“Alas, I am taken for the evening, but you will likely find others eager for your entertainment,” she said. Jaskier’s face fell a bit and then quickly recovered and he put on a big show of trying to seem unaffected. And then, adding insult to presumed injury, she pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and tossed it to him.

“To remember me by,” she said, and he snatched it up gratefully.

As he shut the door behind him he heard the lover make some comment about him, he couldn’t hear exactly what but the hostess chastised him though her voice was amused.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he was called to perform again and he did. When they asked him to perform a ballad written by Valdo Marx he saw Geralt, scanning the crowd carefully looking for the item, pause and look to him. He gave him the same look Jaskier had once given him in a similar event years ago. Unlike Geralt, his ill humor wouldn’t leave people dead and it would play into the role. So he blustered and not a little bit of genuine frustration spilled out (though deep down he knew if Valdo Marx had been there he would have been asked to perform Jaskier’s songs).

“Tell me sir bard, what is it like having one’s most celebrated work be the result of another’s greatness?” a man asked after Jaskier finished Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. Jaskier laughed, a fake, hurt laugh that made the asker smug and satisfied.

Jaskier left the hall, slinking away and stumbling a bit for good measure. As soon as he was clear of the main hall he hurried to find the kitchens. The servants paid him no mind other than to ask him brusquely to move out of their way, assuming he was running from someone or for something and not paid to worry about it either way. The stables were even easier to navigate and he made a mental note to tell Geralt never to trust Roach to a lord’s care and keeping because their stablehands were nowhere to be found, likely off playing cards or drinking. The riding cloak was where he knew it would be, hanging by the stable door of the most beautiful black horse he’d ever seen. He briefly considered stealing it but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, instead using the handkerchief the hostess had given him to pick up the amulet and deposit it into his doublet pocket, careful to wind the fabric around twice to prevent accidentally touching it.  

 He was nearly back to the front of the house when he saw Geralt approaching, leading Roach.

“Ah Geralt! I got all turned around but there you go saving me again,” Jaskier said.

“Let’s go,” Geralt said.

“Yes, I agree it’s gotten quite dull,” Jaskier said. They walked together towards the road in silence until Geralt stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Why did you let them talk to you like that?” he demanded. Jaskier widened his eyes and feigned alarm.

“What? How is this my fault?” he challenged.

“That thing they said about your most celebrated work being the result of another’s greatness. You knew that was bullshit but you let them say it anyway,” Geralt said. He was angry which wasn’t new but for once he wasn’t angry at Jaskier, he was angry for him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jaskier said, with more sincerity than Geralt could possibly know.

“Well the next time it happens I don’t care how hard you shake your head, I’m going to put an end to it,” Geralt said, his tone threatening and endearingly protective. Jaskier didn’t have to pretend to be bewildered.

“Well I’m sorry my personal distress was so inconvenient for you,” he replied sarcastically, fighting hard to keep the smile at bay.

“Hmm. Well it was a waste of an evening anyway. The amulet wasn’t there,” he said.

“Oh you mean this one?” Jaskier asked, producing the wrapped item from his pocket.

“I told you not to touch it, for fuck’s sake Jaskier you have no idea what you’ve done!” Geralt cried, taking the item with a gloved hand.

“I didn’t touch it, thank you very much, my skin never touched its surface,” Jaskier’s tone was insulted but he was secretly amused, knowing full well the panic he’d put Geralt through and enjoying every bit of it. Geralt scrutinized him for a moment but ultimately, seeing no overt signs of devastation or death, put the item in a sack.

“Where did you find it anyway?” he asked, climbing onto Roach as they reached the road.

“Oh you know me, Geralt,” Jaskier said with a sly smile, “I just sort of run into things.”

“Hmm.”

They walked (and rode) in silence the rest of the way back to the tavern.

#mynamesoundslikesherlock #jaskier x competence #jaskier imagines #jaskier: nay a twink nor a himbo #reader request

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Chapter 4! Emmy has some confessions to make…

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, One Excitable Irishman

Chapter 4

 I make my way through the trees and spot Sean sat lazily at the campfire. He sees me instantly and gives me a signal to stay where I am. I crouch down as he stands up and dramatically stretches to look around for Dutch. He makes eye contact with me and beckons me over. I put my head down and walk briskly to Sean. We give each other a small, quick low-five and I continue my walk to the horses. I grab hay from a bale and start feeding some to my horse, Jett. She’s a beautiful, white roan Nokota that Arthur helped me break when I was 13. That was my favourite birthday.

I start to brush her as Dutch comes to stand in front of me.

“Emmeline” he greets with clear annoyance in his voice. He stands with his hands on his hips and I glance to the campfire to see that Sean is watching. I glare at him and all he does is laugh.

“I was callin’ you” Dutch comments. I just continue to brush Jett while I speak and try to keep my voice light. “Oh, was you? Sorry” I reply.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Where were you?” I look at Dutch then and shrug, “Oh, around. Dozed off a bit after cleanin’”. All he does is hum and nod.

“Emmeline. I know you’re bored…” Dutch begins but I’m so tired of hearing his excuses!

“I’m not just bored Dutch. I’m useless here. You need to let me get back to what I do best.” I plead. I know to others it probably sounds like I’m whining. Like Molly does all the time. But Dutch knows me. He knows I’m not one to complain unless I feel it necessary. “I know we’re still in…dangerous terrain…but we need money to get outta it. You know I can help.”

Dutch looks to the ground and nods.

“Little miss, you’re the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have. I will protect you till the day I die. And if that means keeping you in camp while you curse ma name? Then that, miss, is what I will do.” He finishes his little speech with a kiss on my forehead. God I want to scream at him so badly but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I clutch Jett’s brush tightly and when Dutch turns to walk away I throw it to the group with a thump.

I place my forehead against Jett’s but pull back when I see Bill and Lenny approach with Micah in tow. “Miss Grace” Bill greets as he and Lenny start to saddle their horses. As Micah gets closer, I can see that he’s changed into a black shirt and a waistcoat. I smile but he remains emotionless and even bumps my shoulder slightly as he passes. “Hey watch it!” Lenny shouts as he mounts his horse and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Thanks Lenny” I say trying to keep the hurt I’m feeling out of my voice, “You going to the homestead?” I ask and as Lenny starts to detail the plan, I chance a look behind him at Micah who’s saddling Baylock. Once he’s done, he gives him a treat from his saddlebag and places his forehead against his for a moment. Just like I do with Jett. The act is so, gentle.

I zone back in for the end of Lenny’s explanation and wish him luck. Telling him and Bill to be careful.

“Always am!” he replies happily and I watch them trot out of camp, followed closely by Micah who doesn’t even look back. I shake my head and will the tears I feel to just go away.

“Don’t be so stupid” I mumble to myself and close my eyes. I tilt my head up to the sky and do as Bessie taught me. I take a deep breath and start to count to 10. I make it to 7 before an overly excitable Irishman claps me on the shoulder and shakes.

“And how’t it go with Dutch ‘little miss’?” Sean laughs. I give a humourless scoff and just whisper “perfect” while I look at the ground. I can’t bring myself to explain how frustrated and upset I now am.

Sean seems to consider me and the camp for a few short moments before holding out his hand.

“Walk wid me?” he asks and after a moment I smack my hand into his. He tugs me through the camp towards the water and then along the shoreline. So that if anyone really wanted to, they could see where I am but still giving us privacy.

We walk for a good 5 minutes or so, talking about nothing in particular, until we reach a dry area far enough away from nosey ears. Sean plonks himself down on the ground and gets out his pipe. I sit next to him and lean back on my hands, enjoying the sun and quiet. For a few seconds.

“So. Super-secret circle. Talk.” he mumbles while fiddling with the pipe. I’ve been telling him for years that a circle definitely needs more than 2 people. I love how much he cares though and like Arthur, I won’t get away with pretending I’m fine.

“Okay. But super-secret. Swear on your da.” I say sternly. He holds up his hand, clutching the pipe to his heart. “I swear on me da and any other MacGuire folk out there.” he says.

We’ve been doing this forever. Finding a quiet place and swearing our oaths. It’d always be his da and for me, whichever brother I liked more at the time. It changed daily. I don’t even remember how it all started, just that since I met Sean, I felt like I had a real friend. He never judged me. Not that he really has a leg to stand on if he tried! But he’s never tried.

I’ve told Sean my deepest, darkest secrets and he’s told me his. Like when I was pouring medicine from different bottles into the fire one night as a child, just to see what would happen, and I caused a mini forest fire….not my finest moment. No one but Sean knows it was me and no matter how drunk that boy gets, he’s never told anyone.

“I don’t really know where to start,” I say “I feel like I want to scream at Dutch. He…”

“Nah nah, not Dutch” Sean interrupts and I quickly snap my gaze to his. He can’t mean? “I saw the way you lookt just then by da horses. Positively….forlorn” he teases, “that ain’t about old Dutch.”

I take a moment to breathe. I can feel my face heating up and I actually think I might be sick. When Sean sees my obvious distress, he softens and squeezes my knee reassuringly. “You can tell me Em.” He says quietly.

I nod. Of course I can tell him. He’s Sean. This is our circle. Or whatever a group of two is. A pair? Yeah, a pair. A secret pair. That sounds dumb.

“Em?” Sean’s voice breaks me from my inner monologue.

“Okay” I say quietly and close my eyes. Maybe this would be easier if I wasn’t looking at him. “I think I might…like someone.” After a couple seconds of silence, I open my eyes. Sean looks…relieved? He begins to chuckle.

“Is dat it? Jesus Christ Em, I thought you were pregnant or summit” he laughs. I find myself feeling quite alarmed at his admission. “What? Why!?” I ask while glancing down at my stomach and feeling it, “Do I look pregnant?!” Surely I can’t look pregnant, we hardly ate in Colter and since then its hardly been a banquet every night!

Sean’s laugher subsides and he shakes his head. “No no, course not. But I’ve never seen you look so…so upset and…and confused?” he explains with some difficulty. It’s almost as if his thoughts are as jumbled as mine are. “You like someone though dats good. Right? Oooh is it our young Lenny? He’s a fine chap.”

I smile at his excitement. “No, unfortunately it’s not Lenny. It’d be nice if it were actually. You’re right, he’s lovely.” I admit.

“It um, it ain’t Bill?” Sean asks tentatively. I can already see where his mind is going. He must have been watching me when they were getting ready to ride out. “No” I laugh “It’s not Bill Williamson”.

Sean dramatically performs the sign of the cross. Wrongly I should mention. And thanks God. I brace myself for the next question. If he thought it was Lenny and then we’ve ruled out Bill, I know where he’ll go next…

“Okay” he regains his composure, “So, Javier?”

For a moment all I can do is blink at him. Javier? Where did Javier come from?

“Um…no. Not Javier.” I say slowly. Almost like I’m confused by my own words.

“Why not? He’s a sexy man!” Sean shouts and I burst out laughing. I also feel the need to look around as knowing our luck Javier would be standing nearby and he’d be very confused. But also, probably very flattered. That man likes to know he’s fanciable.

“Yes, yes he is. Shush!” I giggle and Sean takes a big puff of his pipe. He blows out the smoke and pokes the top of it while scrunching his forehead like he’s in deep thought.

“Okay, so not Lenny or sexy Javier. Or Bill, phew by the way….hold up, I will fookin’ end him if it’s that O’Driscoll sod!” he shouts equally as loud. “Hey!” I shout back “1 he is NOT an O’Driscoll and 2 NO it’s not him”. I smack Sean on the arm for being so mean about Kieran, poor guy.

“Well then I am fookin’ stumped.” he mumbles, throwing his arms in the air theatrically while holding his pipe in his mouth. He then seems to have a moment of clarity and I feel myself wanting to vomit again. He takes the pipe out of his mouth slowly and quietens down. “It” he clears his throat “It isn’t…me?” and this time it’s my turn to laugh.

“Alright!” he says mock defensively and I will myself to calm down. “No” I say through the deep breaths, “It’s not you Sean. I love you but….no” I finish with a kiss on his cheek. He smiles “Well thank goodness for dat. We’d make a great baby though if we were dat way inclined!” he states and we both laugh.

“Can you imagine? My brains, your hair! The kid would be unstoppable!” I wheeze and we take a moment to calm ourselves down.

Sean coughs and empties his pipe.

“Alright I’m done with the guessing game. Em, who do you like? But just know if you say Arthur or John, yes you are sick and yes I will dump you in the middle of nowhere to be eaten alive by wolves.” He smirks and at his statement I want to vomit but for a very different reason.

“Ew Sean, why?” I cringe before taking a deep breath.

“It’s um, it’s….Micah.” I whisper and look out at the water. I can’t imagine Sean’s face right now and I don’t want to look. His silence says everything.

“Right. Okay.” He says slowly and all of a sudden, he gets up and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the fuck Sean!!!” I shout as loudly as my position allows. He starts to walk further down the shoreline, away from camp.

“Well you’re clearly beyond hope so I’m gonna find some wolves.” Sean replies and I can only groan and hit him on the back. “Oh put me down you prick!” and with that he plonks me unceremoniously onto my feet. My hair is everywhere and I take a moment to pull my skirt down. Once I’ve gathered myself and the bloods rushed back to my brain, I see he’s laughing and I punch him in the arm as hard as I can.

“Ow! Violent little ting aren’t ya? Dat why Micah likes ya?” he laughs and I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut. All the wind has been completely knocked from my lungs and my eyes go blurry with tears.

It’s in that moment I realise, I like someone for the very first time.

And they don’t like me back.

#red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption online #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption spoilers #red dead 2 gameplay #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption #micah bell x reader #rdr2 micah #micah bell #micah bell x oc #micah bell x ofc #micah bell x fem oc #red dead redemption fandom #rdr2 tag #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr2 john #rdr2 arthur #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #sean macguire #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader

[annelixa]

Trust Chapter 20

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Can also be read on AO3

Summary: Cassandra seeks Varian shortly after she stole the Moonstone so that she can use his intellectual gifts. Lucky for her, no one seems to be telling him what happened at the Dark Kingdom and he still sees her as the wise and trusted person he always knew. Utilizing that image of herself, she takes him for herself while under the guise of protection.

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Before the Sun had risen, the Saporians had joined the strange girl in the large automaton. Once again the large blue stone was shown to the group.

“This will give you control of the Brotherhood of the Dark Kingdom,” she explained, handing it to Andrew. “They will fight tirelessly for you, turning against previous alliances or relationships. Not even family will be spared from their wrath. Take care of it. If it is broken, the influence will be lost.” She started for the machine’s controls but paused and turned back. “Oh, and your dear alchemist’s father is in that Brotherhood.” She walked away. “Do with that information as you will.”

A dark smile spread across Andrew’s face and he glanced at the boy who was still asleep in the corner. He would deal with him later. Right now, he had a coup to start.

Joining the girl at the front of the machine, he sat beside her. Following his directions, she steered the monstrosity to a nearby village. Weeks before, Andrew had sent word to the other disgruntled residents of Corona and those sympathetic to the Saporian cause. His letters had told them of the coming attack and that, if they should want to join the revolt, to gather in the small village. The previous night, Clementine had been sent to alert the people that the time had come and if they still wanted to take part, they needed to gather in the town square at daybreak.

The machine stopped and the hatch in the back opened to let those inside jump out. Landing in the square, Andrew was pleased to see that a small crowd was waiting for them. About 50 people were standing quietly, waiting for him to speak.

“Friends!” he called, taking a few steps closer. “I’m thrilled to see that you all want to join us in our noble crusade! We have plenty of supplies for you, crafted by Corona’s own little alchemist. He has generously prepared them so that our uprising will be unstoppable.” Behind him, the other Saporians dragged out the crates that Varian had carefully packaged. “Come forward and receive your armaments.” The group lined up and received plenty of weapons from the supply. Letting the others handle the dispersal, he hopped back into the automaton. He had already taken his share of the supply, a fully stocked alchemy belt over his shoulder while a sword and a coiled whip were strapped to his hips. “Things are going better than I expected,” he told the girl as he rejoined her.

“Did you believe your plan would fail?”

“Of course not.” Once again, he turned to look at the alchemist. “What are we going to do with him?”

Rising to her feet gracefully, the girl approached the sleeping boy.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, gently reaching out to the touch him. “I shall keep him here so he can’t escape.” Focusing on the Moonstone she had hidden on her wrist, she created black rock manacles around his wrists that attached to the pipe running along the wall that he was leaning against. Grinning at her success, she also attached a black rock chain to the collar Cassandra had stupidly forgotten to remove. Satisfied that he would be unable to move for that spot, she draped two strips of cloth on the collar around his neck. If he tried to get loud, he wouldn’t be for long. She faced the Saporian again. “You will lead the invasion and I will control this machine, following your orders.”

Crossing his arms, Andrew frowned.

“Why does the kid stay with you?” he demanded. “What if I want my old buddy with me?”

Trying not to lose her patience, the girl took a deep breath.

“If you believe having him at your side would be for the best, then by all means go ahead. However, who will repair this machine if it starts to malfunction?”

“I will command the machine,” he argued back.

The man was stubborn, too dedicated to his cause. That wasn’t the worst quality though. It was the trait that she could control, similar to how Cassandra’s wish for recognition was her folly.

Stepping closer, she kept her voice calm.

“That would be a fine choice. I must ask though, do you know how to operate this machine?” His face flushed at her words. Realizing something, he opened his mouth but she continued. “The alchemist cannot operate it for you. If he was allowed to be in charge, he would sabotage your attack. Even if it killed him, he would do so. You know this to be true.” Placing her hand on his arm to soothe him, she smiled. “And if you are in here, who will lead your troops?”

She knew she had him cornered, the frustrated realization crossing his face.

“Fine.” He stomped out of the hatch. “You control the machine and follow my orders.”

Smirking, she replied, “Of course.” Once he was back in the square, she closed the hatch. The sounds of the alchemist waking reached her ears and she stepped in front of him. “And now for you.”

Drowsy, Varian yawned and blinked slowly. The room was dark and fuzzy so he reached his hand up to rub his eyes. After a moment, he noticed that his hand couldn’t reach. Confused, he looked around and noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t the cottage or the tower. Had he escaped? No. That couldn’t be it. He had never seen this place before. As he pondered, he tried to reach his eyes again and finally realized the problem; his wrists were chained to something behind him.

“What the…?” he muttered, pulling against his bonds.

“Good morning, dear alchemist,” the girl called warmly, moving into his line of sight.

“What? Who are you?” The girl seemed oddly familiar but he couldn’t figure out where he had seen her. Suddenly it hit him. He reached out, trying to point at her, but only succeeded in bruising his wrists as the manacles firmly held him in place. “You! You were in my dream! Why are you here?! Where am I?!”

Patting his head, she smiled brightly.

“Very good, sweet boy.” He jerked his head away from her. He wasn’t a dog and he wasn’t going to let this odd girl treat him like one. “Cassandra has decided to forgo her destiny but I found a group more than willing to follow the path. I believe they are old friends of yours?”

Feeling dread growing in his stomach, he quietly asked, “The Saporians…?”

Again, the girl patted his head, Varian glaring at her.

“You truly are clever, aren’t you, child? It’s quite impressive for someone of your young age.” The compliment did nothing to quell the unease the alchemist was feeling. “Yes, the Saporians. They are rather eager to destroy Corona.” She leaned forward, only inches away from his face. Uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, Varian tried to slide away but his back was already flush with the pipe behind him. “From what I understand, you were once more than willing to help them with that goal. Isn’t that correct, dear alchemist?”

Ashamed of his past, he turned away.

“That…that was a different time,” he tried to defend. “I’ve done better since then. I’ve been better!”

Seizing the opening, the girl tsked sadly and sat beside him. Varian scooted as far away as he could but she wasn’t dissuaded. Instead, she reached out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his face back to her with a sympathetic look.

“I know how hard you’ve been trying to do better but are you truly? All those weapons you made for Cassandra are now in the hands of dozens of angry people. Can you honestly say that is the success you were aiming for?” Unable to pull out of her grasp, he settled for simply glaring at her and trying not to let her words phase him. “You allowed Cassandra to steal you away, holding you prisoner and manipulating you into creating such dangerous items.” Varian tried to defend himself, indignant that she would even think to say something like that, but she just shushed him and rubbed his cheek with her thumb. “There there. I know it’s difficult to look back on your actions but can you truly believe that you had no idea what she was doing? That you didn’t follow her because you still wish harm and vengeance on Corona?”

“I…I…”

Did he want to do that? His mind screamed obviously not but his heart was wavering. He never asked for proof of the war she had spoken of so frequently. He had been content for so long to just continue creating. Had his previous friendship blinded him to what he was doing or had he known all along and tried to suppress it? He thought he wanted to be better, to make up for his mistakes, but did he actually want Corona to fall?

Noticing his distress, the girl pulled away.

“I will let you consider. I apologize for troubling you.”

She returned to the machine’s controls and grinned. He was just as easy to manipulate as all the others. Out of the glass in front of her, she noticed that all the people had been armed and were waiting on horses or in carts. Andrew was motioning for them to move out from his place in a balloon. Quickly starting the machine, she followed. The beast could easily overtake them all but she kept it moving slowly, wanting to let them reach the capital first. Behind her, she could hear the boy muttering to himself but she tuned it out.

Within an hour, the group could see the many buildings of the island city. Those riding in the carts jumped out, drawing their weapons and charged forward with those on horseback. Again she followed slowly until the machine was on the other side of the bridge. Once there, she could see how the people were already closing in on the palace. With a wide grin, the girl moved the arm of the automaton to crash into the nearest building. That would surely alert someone to the invasion. Stalking forward, she kept smashing the arms into buildings as the machine approached the palace. Guards scurried out, trying to fend off the attackers but were slowly being overpowered by the angry crowd. Some were slashing at them with swords or maces while others were using Varian’s various chemical compounds. Yells of surprise reached her ears as Adira and Hector blocked the castle’s entrance, preventing any from entering or escaping.

“Yes,” she whispered, full of a savage happiness.

Corona would fall.

#tangled tv show #rapunzels tangled adventure #varian #cassandra #separatists of saporia #tts #tts varian #tts cassandra #tts andrew #fanfic #fanfiction

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 9: Soft On Him

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2455

Bakugou’s entire section of his army, including Tsuyu, was gone for nearly a month and a half, leaving you to fret and worry over what you had told him. Although he said he would listen to you, there was never a true confirmation that he really did change his plan. All you could do was hope that he had, that they would come out of their battle as successful as the history books said. You spilled all your worries through the weeks to your little fish friend Sushi, who listened with a continuously gaping mouth and blank stare. The creature always stuck around right at the edge of the pond when you came to sit, making you curious as to if he truly did understand what you were doing there. He was just a simple Koi fish, completely white with not a speck of color anywhere on him. 

Although you knew your assigned guards were listening, you couldn’t help but verbally express your worries to the fish. Just getting it all out was enough to calm you, and often you talked through your problems with yourself to find solutions. It was nice, and you always thanked him for his time when you decided to return to your room or walk elsewhere. 

At the one month and two weeks mark, you had just finished your time in the garden, and you were casually walking when you heard it. The familiar voice of your guide, calling to you from behind. 

Turning to face her, you smiled at Tsuyu as she approached, still dressed in her war attire that you had first met her in. You assumed they had just returned, which was only confirmed by how tired she looked as she stopped before you. “Hello, Tsu! I’m so glad to see you made it back okay! How long have you been back?” 

“A while,” Tsuyu responded, working to untie one of the hard pieces of armor she had on her arm. “I guess you wouldn’t know from this far into the palace. Your company has been requested, however, so I’ve come to fetch you.” 

“Huh? Is everything okay?” You followed her as she began to walk in the direction she had originally come, her hair bouncing as she walked. 

“Everything is just fine, Miss. But I cannot discuss it, Bakugou wishes to in private.” 

If your stomach wasn’t in knots before, it certainly was now. In fact, you felt like your entire throat was near closing off. You were shocked that just mentioning being alone with him made you so nervous you considered taking off and hiding somewhere where they would have a very hard time finding you. It didn’t help that you were anxious about the results of the ambush, if it had gone how you predicted or if he even listened to you in the first place. 

Eventually, the two of you reached an area of the stables and fenced off area for the horses, and you spotted the subject of your anxiety almost instantly. Bakugou was standing out in some random spot in the fenced in section, watching his young palomino horse trot about. A bit confused, you looked down at Tsuyu. “Uhm, what is he doing?” 

“After a battle of any kind, when we return home, he often likes to be alone like this to clear his mind. This was also that mares first time out in a real battle, so I believe he’s watching her for any sign of unknown injury or distress.” 

“He… wants to talk to me out there? With a horse running around us?” 

“Yes.” Tsuyu looked at you like the request was the most common place thing to ever happen, so you decided not to make a fuss about it, even though it did seem a bit ridiculous. 

Approaching the fence, you looked down at her. “Do I just… go in-” 

You were interrupted as Tsuyu gave a whistle, gaining Bakugou’s attention. Without a word, he pointed to an area further down the fence, which upon inspection, was clearly a gate. Bidding Tsuyu goodbye for the moment, you entered the area through the gate, being sure to shut and secure it behind you. 

“Hurry up, Demon!” You heard Bakugou snap at you, making you quickly scurry over to him. Giving a bow, you waited for his approval before standing up straight, gazing up at him curiously. 

“You wanted to see me?” 

“You were right.” His words were quite snappy, though he spoke with an uncharacteristic softness. As his horse approached him, she eyed you with obvious reluctance, though seemed calmed when Bakugou gave her strong neck a few pats. “Your strategy or… prediction. It was right.” 

“So you won? Did anyone get badly hurt?” 

“We did win. But we lost many troops. No one you know by name.” Bakugou turned his gaze to the horse, giving a few soft clicks to calm her. You were unsure why, but his calm demeanor and gentle noises to the horse brought a heat to your cheeks. His praise only made it worse, and you didn’t really know what to expect from all this. 

“I’m glad,” you started, taking a half a step closer. “Did you tell Lord Yagi?” 

“I told him before we left what you had said. He did admit that there was no way you could have known anything about the enemies side of that ambush. And that your… input was of great value.” He looked back down at you again as you moved, and you caught his eyes wandering your form for just a moment. “He’s still skeptical, as expected. And in all honesty, so am I. I can’t tell if it’s luck that’s getting you by, or if you really are just that good of a liar. So, from now on, until I can tell a difference, you are going to meet with me to go over strategies before and after I present it. To see if you truly have a ‘power’ of some sort.” 

You gave a timid nod. “Yes, of course… But I may not be able to do it for… every battle. The more impact, the more I can see.” You had to make up a reasoning behind your inability to remember some of the smaller and insignificant skirmishes, and you hoped this would work. “Sometimes things don’t come to me. I cannot be held accountable for that.” 

“If you have no input on some things, then so be it. But I except your best attempts, Demon.” 

“I feel like I’ve proved how willing I am to cooperate and support you…” 

“You have. That is why I am easing up on your restrictions. And I’ll provide you with more entertainment resources so you aren’t so… bored, is what you had said?” The snarky smirk on his lips made your cheeks flush, though you quickly nodded. 

In truth, you were unsure exactly what to feel. You were happy that it had worked out, and yet you were still technically a prisoner, untrusted and constantly watched. Still, this would be an improvement, and perhaps even a chance to get closer to him. You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered so violently any time you laid eyes on him. It was like something inside you was hopelessly drawn to him, and for a moment, you wondered if he felt the same thing. In your mind, you pictured it like magnets, and one day you would surely collide if given the chance. 

“Thank you,” Pushing through the embarrassment, you smiled up at him, your heart nearly skipping a beat as his stern expression faltered for just a split second. “I don’t think I said that to you directly. I assume you got that from the reports of me talking to Sushi.” 

“The stupid fish? Yes.” Bakugou turned more to face the horse, as if looking at you frustrated him. “I’ve learned a lot about you from those reports. In particular, you seem to talk a lot about your family.” 

At the mention of such a sensitive subject, your emotions instantly flared, making your throat constrict and a burning rise up into your eyes. “Yes, I… I do.” It was impossible to control the wavering of your voice, turning your gaze down to look at his feet. “I think about them all the time and I wonder if… they are still thinking about me, too.” 

“I would allow you to send them a letter… if you so wished.” 

Feeling your chest tighten, you looked up at him in shock, very surprised to hear such a suggestion come out of his mouth. Seeming a bit bashful about it himself, he didn’t look down at you, though instead continued to pet his horse while he awaited your response. Sniffling, you quickly reached up and wiped the tears from your face, unable to resist the small smile that crossed your lips. 

“That’s… very kind of you. But there is no point in doing that. I feel like it may be better to just let them get over me than to give them any hope… Thank you, though. I think you’re much nicer than this persona you strut around with.” A sly smirk crossed your lips as the tips of his ears flushed, holding back giggles as he glared down at you. 

“Shut up,” Bakugou barked, returning to his previously mentioned persona. “You barely even know me! I was just offering as a payback for helping us!”

“Mhmm, sure, sure.” Smile never leaving your lips, you took a few steps closer to his horse, looking her over. “May I?” 

“Tch, do what you want.” Bakugou, even though he was obviously embarrassed, watched you closely as you softly placed a hand on the pale hair of the mares neck. With a gentle touch, you ran your hand along her strong body, walking with it until you were standing at her side. 

“She’s beautiful. She looks almost exactly like her mother.” You chanced a quick glance at him, glad to see his expression not falter at the mention of his fallen horse. “Except for that she has the black running up her back leg here.” 

Bakugou walked around the other side of the horse, running his hand along her back and displacing a bit of dust. “She’s filthy right now. But yes, she is a wonderful horse. Much like her mother.” 

“She did well out in battle?”

“Of course she did. She was bred from our two strongest war horses, my Taiyō and Yonaka. She’s still young, but Higure will be magnificent in time.” 

“Ooh, so that’s where that little splash of black comes from. How cute! She seems very fond of you.” Smiling up at him, you felt a heat return to your cheeks, finding the way he looked down at you to be so… soft. It was obvious to you that there was something on his mind besides the horse, but there was still something preventing him from speaking it. You wanted to ask, to confess that you felt this ridiculous connection to him and you wondered if he felt it, too. But you couldn’t. All you could do was take a step back as Bakugou gave a small pat to the horses’ rump to send her off, both of you watching as she trotted away towards the stables. 

With a sigh, Bakugou turned his gaze back down to you. “It is difficult for me to admit that my strategies were incorrect or ineffective. I’ve studied most of my life to perfect my skills, and yet… I still have times where I’m wrong and that angers me. This year in particular seems to be having it’s way with me. Despite my troubles, I’ve decided to trust you. I hope that won’t be another mistake.” 

Feeling your stomach bubble with anxiety, you shook your head, taking a few steps closer to him. “Don’t think that way. I will do everything I can to help you… Though it’s more than just wanting to preserve my life in any way. I… want to. I want to help you.” 

“Good. Enough of this.” He waved his hand at you in sudden annoyance, beginning to make his way towards the stables as well. “I will put Higure away and retire for the evening. Tomorrow we will both meet with Lord Yagi to discuss your prediction and the results of the ambush. I recommend you prepare yourself and sleep well.” 

Smiling, you watched him walk away. “Goodnight to you, too!” 

His only answer was a quick glance over his shoulder, before he vanished inside a building along with his horse. Your heart and spirits lifted from the pleasant conversation, you gave a soft sigh in adoration before heading out the way you came, finding Tsuyu dressed back in her more casual clothing at the entrance to the palace. She must have noticed the unconscious dreamy look on your face, as she gazed up at you curiously. 

“Are you okay, Miss?” 

“I’m just fine, Tsuyu. That went… much better than what I expected.” 

Smile crossing her lips, Tsuyu nodded, beginning to lead you back into the castle. “If I’m incorrect, than please let me know, but I think that you may be a little bit soft for him.” 

“W-what?” The heat that rushed to your face was more severe than anything you had experienced that day, quickly bringing your hands up to cover your face. “Tsu, please, that just isn’t true! He’s just-- I’m just--” 

“Shh, miss, it’s quite alright!” Tsuyu laughed, smiling up at you. “There is nothing to be upset about. Bakugou actually has a very hard time connecting with people, so I’m glad to see that you both get along decently well.” 

“Y-yeah…” Lowering your hands, you hugged yourself tightly, keeping your embarrassed gaze locked on the ground. “Even though he can be quite mean, I… like him. There’s more to him than what he wants to show.” 

“I think that having read my reports on you has helped him feel more comfortable around you. Otherwise, I don’t think it would be like this. But either way, I am glad!” 

Swallowing the lump that had groan in your throat, you nodded, the vision of his soft expression locked in your mind. So handsome, powerful, loyal and snarky. At this point, you knew you officially had a crush on the gruffy hotheaded man, and now that you were told you would be spending more time around him, you had a feeling it was only going to grow more intense. 

Only time would tell if that would be a positive experience. For now, all you could do is think of him, with imaginary pink hearts fluttering about your face.

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #personal #ancient soul

[syekick-powers]

rambling about emotions and self-control

i think one of the things that pisses me off the most when family members criticize me is when they say that i’m “bad at controlling my emotions”. first of all, I have ADHD and bipolar simultaneously, my emotions are a hundred times fucking stronger than yours. secondly, i am actually excellent at controlling my emotions. i am the kind of person where if i am having a panic attack, you might not have any fucking clue that i’m even having anxiety unless i state directly that im having a panic attack. ive had PAs so bad where i legit thought i was about to die and not a single shred of that world-ending panic touched my external affect for a second. part of my fucking trauma revolves around having to hide my distress to avoid freaking out other people, which means that i learned to develop a diamond fucking grip on my external signs of distress. it’s deeply maladaptive in some situations, but in other situations it’s equally as useful. and yet because i am very animated and exaggerated in my persona, people assume that i just let my emotions fountain everywhere uncontrollably and that i’m just a waterfall of feelings.

incorrect. every bit of exaggeration in my affect is deliberate. i am not acting like a clown because i can’t control myself, i am purposefully choosing to exaggerate to convey my feelings more effectively. if i don’t want you to know what i’m feeling, you will never ever ever find out. there are some people i interact with on a regular basis whomst i fucking loathe deeply, and yet any time i interact with them i am completely personable and friendly. when im streaming video games on a high difficulty and get frustrated from having to do the same part over and over and over again, i never get tilted on stream. i dont yell or rage, and in fact the more frustrated i become the more blank and expressionless my affect turns. when i was playing dead space 2 on zealot difficulty on stream recently, all of my viewers were complimenting the fact that i spent at least two collective hours on trying to beat the final boss and yet still did not get visibly upset or pissed off once.

yes, my emotions are strong. i have two separate disorders that both have “emotional dysregulation” as some of their biggest negative side effects. my bad moods feel like a fucking firestorm most of the time and strong emotions are very difficult to handle and control. sometimes, my emotions get the better of me and i snap or get irritable. but the only time i’m irritable is when i feel physically and emotionally like utter dogshit and the bad mood impacts my ability to hold back my emotions. the truth is that in my day to day life there are dozens of fucking things that irritate the living hell out of me and i choose to discard my frustration rather than stay mad about something trivial--either that, or i feel the frustration intensely, but bite it back and don’t say anything because i’m not in the mood to pick a fight. if i’m being pissy with you, it’s because i’m completely fuck-out of all mental and physical energy that i would otherwise use to hold back my irritation. there is nothing left to burn. there aren’t even fumes in the tank. this bitch empty, so prepare for the yeet.

the problem that i run into with my family members is that this internal struggle to contain my emotions is completely invisible to any external viewers. they’re not me, of course they can’t see what’s going on in my head. what makes that an issue is that they don’t see the twenty fucking times i got irritated and managed to control my temper through the frustration, they only see the five or so times i lose control. my efforts are invisible to everyone around me, so when i finally do get fed up and make a snippy comment or complain, it seems like i just let my emotions get the better of me all the time.

to be fuckening honest, if the people who criticized me lived one fucking day in my shoes, the extremity of my emotions would exhaust them within hours. the thing is, i’m 25 fucking years old, which means i’ve lived with this shit for over two fucking decades. i have learned to control myself to an extent, and, being honest with yall? it fucking exhausts the living shit out of me all the goddamn time. it’s like my brain expends all my mental fuel reserves on overclocking my emotions as hard as possible while leaving no fuel left over for activities in the day that i actually need to do. it’s part of the reason i’m so fuckdamn tired all the fuckdamn time. but i’m not bad at controlling my emotions when i actually have the energy to do so. in fact, i’m so good at suppressing them that half the time, people don’t know i’m upset at all. to a certain extent, i’ve gotten used to how extreme my emotions are, and have started learning to predict what sets me off so i can make an effort to avoid the negative stimulus and save myself the frustration. i’m just really fucking tired of people accusing me of not controlling my emotions well enough when god fucking damnit you have no idea how hard i’m actually fucking trying!!! it feels like i’ve gotten so good at hiding my distress in my day-to-day life that now people have no fucking idea how shitty i actually feel until they poke me one too many times and i fucking bite their finger off, and then assume that i just randomly blew up on them with no reason or justification. that i’m just behaving like this to spite them personally.

i promise you im not fucking behaving randomly. in fact, my frustration triggers are actually pretty fucking consistent. the same bullshit behaviors will always piss me off; what changes on a day-to-day basis is how well i control the extremity of my reaction. if i’m having a good day, i have enough fuel stores to go “meh, whatever” and brush it off without being too bothered for very long. if i feel like shit, my ability to control my response is hampered and it becomes much harder to bite back a snippy comment. i’m not lashing out to be malicious or spiteful. i’m lashing out because you’ve been doing this shit every day for the past two fucking weeks and today i’m just too tired to deal with this fucking bullshit anymore. my reaction is not a sudden unprovoked blowing up of a bomb. it’s “you poked the caged animal one too many times and now it’s going to fucking bite you to make you stop because it has no other way to express its frustration”.

i try to be clear and concise with my boundaries, and frankly i don’t think they’re all that unreasonable. i like to be able to decide when and how i do a task on my own time rather than being pushed and pulled and jabbed and pressured every step of the way. i like to be able to have my own space where people have to get my permission before entering suddenly so that i feel like i have a safe place to hide when i’m overstimulated. i like to decide when and where i want to engage in socialization, and for how long. i like being able to decide when i’m ready to do a task, rather than having a task suddenly shoved on me with no warning or being pressured to do it before i’m ready. i do not like being gifted objects i did not request (and often actively requested not to get) and then being expected to be grateful for something i didnt even want in the first place. i don’t like gifts coming with invisible price tags and obligations that can change whenever the gifter decides they want more out of me. and i absolutely cannot. fucking. stand. passive aggression. all of these things do not really seem all that unreasonable to me, yet time and time again people treat me like i’m just asking for so much more than they can possibly give. and you know what? 75% of the fucking time when someone crosses one of these boundaries all i do is Make A Note Of It and go along with the boundary violator’s wishes anyway, because i actively decided that making a big deal out of them crossing my boundaries is not worth the effort of asking them to change their behavior, because throughout my entire fucking life i’ve been constantly treated as the irrational, unrealistic, crazy bitch for trying to set those boundaries. i’ve been taught time and time and fucking time again that defining my boundaries is too much to fucking ask. so when someone does violate my boundaries, there’s a little “Sye will remember that“ popup and absolutely zero expression or reaction. which means that yes. when i finally get tired and can’t bite back my frustration any longer, it’s because you’ve done the exact same thing to me two hundred fucking times previous and i don’t have the fucking patience to suck it up and deal with it anymore. im done with your shit.

so yeah. i’m a little bit fucking sick of people telling me that i have poor self-control. the fact that you think i have no self-control is an indicator of how good it actually is, because i’m so fucking good at hiding my distress that you don’t even have any idea how absolutely like a fetid mound of horse shit i feel like until my fuse finally burns all the way up. i can contain a 10-out-of-10 ‘i’m imminently about to die’ panic attack so well that not a scrap of that panic shows up in my external affect for even a second. i can suppress my pain on stream when it’s at a 7 out of 10 intensity or higher and be fucking on stream playing video games and commentating and show almost no sign of discomfort except for an intense concentrating face. don’t you fucking ever tell me that i’m bad at controlling myself. i’m a goddamn adult. i’ve learned how to control 90% of my fucking emotions so well that i could be holding a conversation with you imagining myself breaking your fucking nose and show absolutely zero sign of external hostility. i am good at controlling my fucking emotions. the problem is that my emotions are so world-endingly, apocalyptically intense that sometimes i just get too fucking tired to hold back, and then that’s when i bite. i’ m not just lashing out randomly with no provocation. i’ve been tread on a million fucking times and took it with a smile and you had no fucking idea. just because i bit you doesn’t mean i did it because i have no self-control. self-control? self-control???? don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control you headass bitch. i have a fucking supernova coming out of my brain and you’re telling me im weak for not being able to bite it back when your emotions have about as much intensity as a bowl of lukewarm porridge. don’t ever fucking criticize me for not being able to control myself when you’re playing life on easy mode and i’ve been stuck on expert all my fucking life. self-control. don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control ever again. you have no idea what the fuck you’re even talking about. fuck off.

#sye's babbles #sorry this is a fucking essay but i needed to get some shit off my chest