#DRUNK ZAYNE HE SHOULD FUCK ME

[softtaemu]

BOOMSHAKALAAAAAAAAA YES GAWD YES GAWDD

Winners stay winning i won the 50/50 SUCK IT

[nanamiscocksleeve]

heyy ray! first things first, i LOVE your writing. that's all i have to say like i literally go nuts every time

sooo this is not a kinktober request and i know you probably have TOO many things to write lol butttt if it's in your taste i'd really like to see your take on the lads man reacting to their lady not wanting to have sex because she hasn't shaved while being away on a mission or something and is feeling insecure about that ig???

and! if i can ask to be the little moon emoji🌙 then i'd like to, please! as always thanks for all the stories you're aMAZING

Hi there! Yes you can be moon anon. Thank you for the kind words! It makes me happy that people are enjoying my work.

Soooo it's actually such a coincidence that you mentioned the body hair thing because I have a story wip for Zayne involving that particular area and hair 😆😆😆 Keep an eye for it btw!

As for the general reaction of the men, I genuinely think all of them are mature enough to handle a little hair and they're not bothered by it. This is how I think this would go.

Sylus: He'll look at reader quite suspiciously. He knows she's not on her period and after trying to get an answer from her, he'll stop when she tells him to quit asking. For a little while anyway. They have a shared home delivery app and when reader makes a purchase later that night he sees all the hair removal products and instantly makes the connection. He'll seek her out, tell her he doesn't care and that his kitten can't be a kitten if there's no hair on her pussy 🤭. When reader protests, he'll pull her close and tell her he missed her and if it really bothers her, she can get a bikini wax tomorrow. He'll even pay for it, but he's needy for her NOW and nothing in his view can change how beautiful she is, hair or no hair.

Xavier: Will assume she's on her period and brings over stuff for her like tea, chocolate, and some selfcare stuff like scented candles and face masks. Reader will be amused at Xavier's assumption and after a few shy moments, she'll tell him in a very vague way that she feels unkempt and that's why she doesn't want to have sex. Xavier thinks unkempt = hasn't bathed and asks if maybe she wants to take a quick shower together. At this point reader shakes her head and admits that she hasn't had time to self-groom down there because of her mission. Things finally click in Xavier's head and he'll ask if he can look and if he doesn't think it looks unkempt then they have should have sex. Of course Xavier gets pussy drunk the minute he sees it and they end up having sex.

Rafayel: This man will straight up pout if you tell him you don't want to have sex. And he'll try to guilt you as well. He'll say you must not love him anymore or that you're hiding a secret from him. Then finally in exasperation, reader will ask him if he wants to fuck a shag carpet because that's what it looks like down there. And of course Rafayel, with his sarcasm and playfullness will say something like "A shag rug for a pussy? I've never heard of such a thing I have to see it now!" And you'll have to show him before he throws another fishy tantrum. When he looks at it he'll sigh dramatically and say "It's not even close to a shag carpet, you exaggerate everything. Now that it's out in the open, let's just have sex."

Zayne: Without giving too much away from my fic...Zayne doesn't care. He's a doctor. He's seen his fair share of hair on body parts and isn't fazed. Also, the vibe I get from them seems to be more of a long-term couple and they've seen each other through their ups and downs so reader will straight up tell him she feels self-conscious about having sex because she hasn't shaved. Zayne will say he respects her decision but removing the hair can cause ingrowns and itching and he doesn't want her to do it incorrectly in order to have sex as soon as possible. He convinces her that they should have sex at least once before she removes it because there's no telling how she might feel after the exhaustion of removing all the hair. You can remove it on your own time but right now he wants you and let's face it, you've popped pimples off his back and he's seen you trimming your toenails, are you really going to let a little hair stop you from riding this man? 🤭🤭🤭

[iamsherlocked1479]

Happpy New Year

Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: explicit content 18+, slut shame, chocking

Description: Stephen doesn't like that you recived a compliment, he doesn't like that somebody would even consoder they had a chance with you.

——————————

Most people are drunk right now, you’re not denying that you were, of course nobody leaves a Stark party completely sober. All beat it, most of the guests haven’t left yet, they were currently counting down to midnight last you heard the ball will drop in 10 minutes, but you couldn’t care right now. You’re currently pressed up against the padded wall of what looks like a gym, technically you hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, with your legs neatly parted over Stephen's shoulders as his tongue glided through your slick folds. 

“Oh fuck steph- we’re gonna miss the countown, we have to- shit.” Your eyes squinted shut and your hand tightened in his hair as he drew you closer to an orgasm. Your statement was thoroughly met with a grunt and a quick “I don’t care sweetheart” as his tongue continued to lap its way around your clit.

This had all started because Thor complimented your dress, he meant no harm of course only stating that you should belong with the Asgardian gods. But like always Stephen was jealous, he hated that a man would even consider himself worthy of being able to see you the way he did, a goddess in your own right. So after that one incident, at exactly 11:49pm Stephen had enough of the looks you were getting, even though you only had eyes for him, and proceeded to pull you into the nearest empty room and show exactly how only he could make you feel.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t want anyone hearing those sweet sounds you make for me.” He said, snaking his hand up your body to cover your mouth as you came. He lifted your legs off his shoulder and pinned you between him and the wall. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your hands continued to work on the buttons of his shirt as they had done earlier before he dropped to his knees for you. “Ah, ah sweetheart” he grabbed your wrists and moved your hand to his tight trousers where you palmed him through his clothes, “we gotta do this fast, i want all the others to see me kiss you at midnight.” He purred as he spun you around, tracing his cock between your folds before pushing you against the wall with a deep thrust. 

You didn’t like jealous stephen, but you loved the way he fucked, he was normally so gentle and kind making sure to touch and kiss you everyway possible before slowly drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But jealous Stephen, he fucked hard, he wasnt one for yelling or arguing, so he would take out his frustrations by pounding into you, he wanted to prove how fast he could make you cum how only he could make you feel that good. 

“You’re mine you know that right?” He purred as he sucked and nibbled at the pulse point on your neck leaving a purple mark for all to see. His cock had the perfect curve making it rub right against your g-spot in this position.

“Steph- please, i know im yours, fuck” you cried as his hand snaked around your neck bringing your head to his. He squeezed slightly, not enough to make it hard for you to breathe, but enough for your hand to clamp onto his wrist and walls to clench around his cock.

“Did you like the way Thor looked at you?” He moved his free hand to pull your dress down just enough to expose your tits to the world. “Did you want him looking at these?” He groaned with his cock twitching inside you. He grabbed on one of your tits, roughly massaging it in his hand and pinching on the nipple. “You know you’re so beautiful, I know you know every man smart enough wants you, admit it you like the attention.” He hissed, kissing your neck and thrusting even harder causing a pile of weights to tumble to the floor. “Tell me sweetheart, do you enjoy the attention?”

“Ye- shit, yes stephen. Fuck.” You moaned, your legs shaking at the overstimulation. He spun you around so that you could see yourselves in the mirrored walls, one hand gripped your chin and pointed you towards the mirror, while the other clung around your abdomen holding you in place as he kept himself inside you.

“Look at you.” He hummed in satisfaction, you looked at what you saw, your dress creased, tits popping out over the top of your dress, mascara running down your face, legs shaking, “look at us” you looked at him through the reflection, eyes darkened, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, shirt falling down his shoulders and his trousers down only just enough to get his cock out. It was a sight to see, yet a sight you and stephen both loved to see, he loved showing you what he can do to you, and you loved that stupid dumb sarcastic smile of his. 

His arm that wrapped around your waist slid down to your clit as he continued pushing inside you, his fingers played with your clit using his precum that dripped from you as a lubricant, adding to the pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel that knot tightening, threatening to break as your insides fluttered. Stephen moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

“Open your eyes” he demanded “I want you to watch as I make you cum, i want you to realise you’re a slut, but you’re my slut.” He grunted as he felt himself drawing closer to his release, his fingers now frantically swiped up and down your clit and with his cock still hitting your g-spot, the sensation became unbearable and the knot snapped, this felt different your felt yourself dripping onto him and creating a small puddle on the hard gym floor. Your knees buckled and you melted to the floor where Stephen set you on all fours, still making sure you can see yourself in the mirror. He kept himself inside you as you slumped, trying to catch your breath

“You see that, that's how good I can make you feel. Tell me what you are.” he said, giving you a single hard thrust causing the sound of skin on skin to echo through the dark room.

“Yours.” you said through breathless moans, this landed a firm yet satisfying slap on you ass as he sped up his motions.

“My what?” he said “speak up” he said moaning, following his own ecstasy

“Your slut.” you cried out, holding yourself up as you could see in the mirror that he was completely lost in the chase for his own orgasm, so you angled yourself that you were pushing yourself onto him every time he entered you. “I’m your slut stephen, yours and yours alone, my pussy is made for you.” your words only encouraged him as he moaned with the satisfaction that the lesson he had been trying to teach you had finally sunk in. 

“That's right sweetheart, your mine” His trembling hands practically vibrated as he gripped the fat of your hips turning his knuckles white. You looked in the mirror, the smell of sex filling your nostrils, you looked at the sight behind you, his biceps straining through the sleeves of that white dress shirt you loved so much, his muscular chest shining with sweat. That was the man you fell in love with, every inch of him, even his salt and pepper temples he hated so much, you loved him.

“Say it again sweetheart.” he begged, he was so close.

“I’m your slut Stephen. I want you to fill me up, make your slut drip with your cum Stephen.” you called out with a victorious smile as he came, strengthening his grip on your waist. His body caved on top of yours as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

“Did you fuck out that atitude?” you asked with a giggle

“I don’t have an attitude.” he stated, sitting back on his knees and watching his seed drip from you. “I just like to make my opinion clear.” he smiled when you jolted as he pushed his cum back into your sensitive hole.

“I think you did.” you got up and put your underwear back on, which had been left at the door, the face he pulled when he realised you were just going to keep his seed inside you almost wanted to make you do it all again, but you did have a deadline to meet. You watched as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked himself back in place. “You know I love you and only you right?” 

“Of Course i do.” he walked over and kissed your forehead “i just wished other people understood that.” he clicked his fingers and your makeup and hair neatened themselves up like nothing had happened and linked his arm into yours.

“It was just a compliment Stephen, Thor didn’t mean anything by it.” you laughed to yourself as the hum of the party grew near

“You don’t know that for sure.” Stephen joked back as he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“I know you’re jealous.” you looked at him and he rolled his eyes

“So what if I was?” he smiled “Sometimes i think you prefer it.”

“So what if I did?” your brow quirked, he opened his mouth to say something when you were interrupted by the rest of the guests beginning to count down and stephen lead you to the balcony where the others where

“3… 2… 1… Happy new year!” Stephen pulled you towards him and locked his lips with yours with a passionate kiss, you had to grip your glass so that you didn’t drop it on impact, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to rest on his chest before finally parting.

“Happy new year sweetheart.” he smiled and gave you another peck

“Happy new year.” you smiled back

“Now correct me if i’m wrong but we need to go home, i haven’t seen you naked since last year.” he pulled your wrist

“That joke wasn’t funny last year and it still isn’t” you gave him a pity laugh

“Then why are you following me?”

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A/N: I have to say i might have gotten a little carried away with some of the language there, but im not appologising, this was based of a dream i had a few weeks back and i thought i'd turn it into a lil end of year gift for you all because in january i will have bneen posting for two years which is crazy to me because this year we have grown from around 50 followrrs to 250! which is even more crazy so, hope to get back into the swing of things next and hope you all have a great new year love ypu all sm! <3

[kkukiejams]

Since I started my hobby as a fangirl, there's this one fear that I always have. That one day I will awake up and see the news that one of the people I looked up to and always brought me happiness died/suicide/od-ed somewhere out there, inside a hotel room, alone and away from their loved ones. I mean, I grew up seeing news like this from Michael Jackson to Whitney Houston to various K-pop idols. But I never thought that I would really experience this nightmare.

On the early morning of Oct 16th, I woke up with a text notification from a close friend saying "Liam is gone," with no other context. My first thoughts are, "Gone? Wdym by gone?"; "Wait, which Liam?"; "Did she have a dog named Liam?"; "Liam? as in 1D's Liam?"; "Isn't it too early for a hoax, especially on this happy day?"; "Hobi is about to come home; wtf is this bullshit." And so I open my Twitter app and see what the fuck is happening.

*Liam Payne's picture in gray, 1993-2024*, "One Direction member Liam Payne (31), died after falling from his hotel room balcony in Argentina," and all the other fan-shocking tweets, news site tweets, tweets about what happened, tweets about how intoxicated he was, passing out in the hotel lobby before the hotel staff brought him to his hotel room, and that horrible, horrible tweet about how fucking tmz posted a picture of his body laying in the ground focusing on his tattoos barely an hour after he fell.

And all I can think is, shit, I can't do this today. It's already 8 in the morning; I need to move my ass because my work starts at 10am and I cannot afford to be late this month anymore. So I moved and got ready, but I can't even process anything like, Fuck, is this even real? He was just in Niall's concert a few days ago. Did the other boys know already? What time is it in the UK? Are they even awake? Are they even in the UK right now? Fuck, he's so far away from home. Why is he so far away from home? Did his mom already know? Did his baby already know? Wtf, I can't really just cry right now; it's still Thursday, and I can't file for sick leave just because of this; my next schedule will be fucked if I did.

And so, I go on with my day; I got in time for my work, still feeling like a blank slate, and still doesn't know how to react. Other people told me about what happened, asking me, What happened? They know I'm a fan, of course. I'm that big directioner fan girl in high school and college; everyone I met from 2012 till 2016 knows I love that group and how I love those boys. And all I can simply tell them is that he fell from his hotel room balcony, accidentally or by suicide; I'm not sure; he was drunk; he was high; I'm not really sure.

And the day went by, and I came home and went back to Twitter to get more information and updates. I know he was suicidal and had an alcohol problem. I think I saw an interview before that he said this thing himself and was trying to seek help. I really prayed that he would be able to seek help. He was depressed, that the days that he was one of the sources of my mental stability are the days he needs to depend on these vices to keep going so he can keep doing what he loves and to keep surviving.

It was also truly devastating to find out that this once bright, kind, and talented person I know was able to hurt and abuse so many people he was supposed to love and people who loved him. I will not excuse him for his wrongs, and I will not blame his victims for speaking out, but it was so tragic that none of them got a happy, peaceful ending. His life was not supposed to end like this; he should be able to heal, to make amends, and to live the rest of his life in content. But life is a bitch and has never been fair. And so I end my Thursday night still doesn't know how to react, still haven't had a cry. Am I even allowed to cry?

Then it's already Friday morning. He was already gone for a day. I woke up and still cannot believe that this is really happening. Then Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Harry released a joint statement regarding what happened to Liam. This is not how I imagine seeing Zayn's name on a 1D official post again. I always thought it would be the 5 of them, and it's about a reunion concert. I was still looking forward to that. I never saw all of them performing live together. I was able to attend one of their concerts, but Zayn was not present, and it's the last concert they have before they officially announced that he was quitting the band. I never thought that I would really never see them all five performing together.

So again I went with my day, still not crying, still have work to do. I also read Louis', Zayn's, and Harry's personal posts. I cannot imagine how they are feeling. They are losing their brother, their friend. Someone they truly know, someone who tried his best to support them when they're all too young to be exposed to how cruel the media can be and how disgusting the entertainment industry truly is. Niall's personal message came in a later time today, and I can understand why. He was the last one of them to see him, to spend time with him, to hug him. I really, really hope that all of the remaining four boys have the support they need in these trying times. I hope they are not alone.

Some people say they are grieving for the younger Liam and not this man he became. But I mourn for all of him, the Liam, whose dream is to perform and sing. the Liam who saw and experienced how amazing it was to reach these dreams, the Liam who found out and paid the price for reaching the said "dreams," and I will especially mourn for the Liam who could have find his way again and should have been able to heal.

So tonight, I will finally allow myself to grieve and cry for the lost that he is. To the brilliant, talented, and loved Liam James Payne. I hope you will finally find peace. I hope that your next life will be happier and more peaceful than this one. Rest in paradise, darling.

[hlficlibrary]

hello, can you recommend a storie where on of them is hurt (physical; for example they are bleeding… or something) and try to hide it from the other one (obviously they find out)

Thank you

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! Here are a few that fit what you're looking for!

what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you) by maroonmoonlouis

“Louis,” Zayn suddenly sits up from the couch, no doubt recognizing the thread of menace that has laced Louis’ tone. “What do you intend to do?” “It’s simple,” Louis replies, already feeling a tingle in his bones as a plan begins to formulate. “In the end, Harry will be the one to call off the engagement.” “Harry is hellbent on marrying the omega heir,” Zayn points out. “I have a hard time seeing how you will convince him to do such a thing.” “I will make him fall in love with me,” Louis announces slowly, ignoring Violet’s tiny scratches against his thigh that feel an awful lot like a warning. “Piece by piece, I will come to take ownership over his heart. An invasion of love, if you will. And then I’ll shatter it so violently that he will be unable to spend even a mere second in my presence.”

- Or, Louis and Harry are sworn enemies, especially at their university where they’re constantly trying to one-up the other. They have been promised as each other's Mates since they were little pups and will become married as soon as they graduate. Louis cannot let that happen.

Baby Heaven's in your Eyes by @theboyfriendstagram

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

Tell Me A Lie by Soullesscreature

Harry used to self-harm, but he promised himself that if he won the x factor, he would stop. They didn't win, but they got a contract, they became famous and Harry is living the dream and he should be one of the happiest people on earth. But it's pretty hard to be happy when your crush/best mate is ignoring you. Harry has been slowly buckling under the pressure that's being pushed onto him and now all he can think about is the many razors that are practically calling him from the bathroom.

[cum-a-calla]

so a couple years back, zayne and i got drunk and he chased me through the house with a knife.

it was our sex knife (we have a few). he thought he'd dulled it down a lot (nope). we should not have gotten drunk, that's a given, and it could have been so much worse. he was chasing me up the stairs and through the hall. i swung my arm back while he swung forward, the knife slashed my arm by chance, and he got me into bed and fucked me hard while i held my arm out and bled on the floor. we were tired, i gauzed it up, and we slept.

next morning, we were hungover and i saw how... open it was, and decided i was too scared of infection and he took me to the ER and i nervously lied (nobody believed me, please do not lie to your doctors) and got stitched up and sent home.

lesson - dull your sex weapons and DO NOT use them under the influence. we never made that mistake again.

under the cut: pictures of the wound as i saw it when i woke up, the stitching, the healing process, and how it looks today (about 2 years later).

[1d-discourseoftheday]

Thurs 7 Jan ‘21

Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3!!! Firstly Zayn posted a teaser of a red curtain, labeled 'tomorrow', beginning to rise with a snippet of a song-- it's Vibez! Vibez is HERE! NEW ZAYN MUSIC! And hell yeah that's super exciting (and the curtain is reminiscent of the filming at the theater last month I'm hopeful we're about to get that video) but THAT'S not the half of it-- Z3 listings are UP! 'Nobody is Listening' (friend we are ABOUT TO BE and I CANNOT WAIT) is out Jan 15 and has 11 songs (titles unrevealed with the exception of Better, already released, and Vibez). The cover art is a painting of a bright colorful sea of staring faces; everybody looking, nobody listening? Spotify also has Vibez cover art- a cool blocky noir looking painting- and a new photo of Zayn smouldering in a tank top. Happy almost Zayn's birthday to US, and thank you very much!

Liam did a long live today with an also long BEARD (oh shush on his FACE you guys) to talk about Saturday's show, but then he ends up talking to Ben Winston for most of it which is, as you can imagine, a mixed blessing. I mean all that 1D reminiscing is great for dredging up unknown tidbits for us but otoh Ben: the part where Liam puts manager Steve on to say hi to Ben and it's just the two of them is the worst content I've seen in a minute and I mean... Holivia is current..? ANYWAY, before Ben, Liam has his cousin Ross on and tells us Ross will also have cousin Luke playing drums for him at the show Sat, and snippets of all the openers' music are played. They discuss accents, and Liam, as usual, says that he was just on the phone to Louis (relatable I too immediately think of Louis when discussing strong British accents). And then the Ben chat: they talk about the We Are 1D Family fan project at San Siro and how the band didn't know it was going to happen, Liam talks about not wanting to do the Leroy piece for the BSE video (“haha remember I had a meltdown but you made me do it!”:/), and they talk about the two Midnight Memories videos-- we learn that Ben didn't have anything to do with the scrapped first one so he can't release it sorry, and “you guys didn't like it so we had to make a new one in like a week”. Liam: “no I preferred the first one!”, lol. Ben talks shit about not liking You and I (no wonder he did her so dirty), Liam: “WHAT??” and “didn’t Zayn’s high note turn you on a little bit? It had to!” sksksjfa okay calm down there, and then he turns me into the 'had me in the first half' meme when he says his least favorite 1D song is I Would! CAN YOU BELIEVE. He quickly realizes though that no! He means I WANT! Yeah okay that makes more sense but jeez Liam, don't mess with me like that! He also says (not about I Would or I Want), “when I was younger I didn't really understand the songs as much as I understand them now, they mean so much more to me later on in life than they ever have done before, the feeling, the emotions that come through, the lyric as well for some of them.” Oh and Ben mentions the Grammy awards being pushed to March 14 which btw I forgot to say yesterday so there ya go. New date. And last but not least, new LP Act 4 merch! RAINBOW HOODIE! Omg it's so good! The rest is great too but that rainbow hoodie (uh 'hoody' that is hmm why) is soooo nice.

9 am PST came and went without a single Holivia pap pic, but don't worry (darlings) they were just a little late today, though you'll be excused if you didn't realize there were new ones, as they are simply more of the same batch as yesterday's- it was a very exciting parking lot after all, they needed a lot of documentation! Harry grabbing Olivia's arm SO AWKWARDLY is a gem though, I'm starting to have doubts that they're even really friends now that I'm seeing them interact so much tbh. I think the press time excitement was supposed to be the 'candid' pics of them drinking coffee together with Harry in the spa robe (taken... maybe you can guess... YES! it was over the weekend!) but aside from being memed they didn't seem to get much traction. Even so, the press is still all over Holivia ofc and if you only read one article about it PLEASE make it the Harper's Bazaar one that marveled at today's pics “Wilde happened to be wearing the same outfit from last weekend” oh SO CLOSE YOU GUYS, defensively states that Harry was wearing a mask (in response to the many articles out there about people being mad at him for not wearing a mask which yes are very much still up and not being suppressed by HSHQ, btw) but some enterprising layout person placed a picture of him without a mask right under that line, and tells us twice in a row that their relationship is 'very organic'-- definitely 100% truly oBvIOusLy ORGANIC, 'a source' says so. So you can see that clearly it's all very organic. In case you were wondering! STRONG honorable press mention for Vogue though, who declared that Holivia were “already 2021's most stylish pair” with a picture of Harry in his paint splattered merch hoodie and pushed up sweats; but then they also said the other day that larries were people “who ship Harry with Liam Payne”...hey Vogue I really recommend getting an intern if you're struggling, so helpful!

[mapofthesoul20]

TXT College AU Headcanons

Because TXT are officially in (Cyber) University, why not have some fun imagining the shenanigans they’d get into as average American college students? (All quotes are irl quotes by me and my friends btw XD) 

Yeonjun is the one who wakes up half of campus by screaming in the quad in the middle of the night. He is not drunk. 

Yeonjun accidentally becomes the poster child for the school and is in every ad because he is just that pretty and talented. The others never let him live it down

Yeonjun, two weeks of class left: “Is it too late to admit I don’t know what’s going on in this class?” 

Soobin was unanimously elected president of his fraternity. His frat is  actually like nice and chill, but they JUST NEVER LISTEN TO HIM. He leaves with a headache after every chapter meeting 

Soobin doesn’t understand how football works but shows up in full gear and face paint to every game 

Soobin: “If the teacher doesn’t show up in 15 minutes, we can leave”

Beomgyu is the one who burns the popcorn in the dorm at 3AM and triggers the fire alarm. Multiple times. Taehyun threatens to strangle him 

Beomgyu is on some obscure sports team, like archery or water polo, and Yeonjun is 100% convinced Beomgyu is making it up just to fuck with him

Beomgyu, crossing the street: “Go on, cars, hit me! Pay my tuition!” 

Taehyun is a lead in the a capella team (Sorry, I had to do it to someone XD). Takes them to Nationals with his rendition of Zayn Malik’s “Let Me”. (Soobin shows up in full gear to support) 

Taehyun is the friend who will always be there to help his friends move in/out, especially if there’s pizza offered. Be warned, he’s also the friend who will take a video of them when they drop something on their foot and are hopping in pain, posting it with a caption “Lol, what a loser <3″ 

Taehyun: “I should start carrying my knife around again.” 

Hueningkai’s family lives near by so he’s always hanging out with his sisters and doing laundry at home and at least once a week brings home a stray friend in need of a home-cooked meal

Hueningkai walks up to the ornamental piano gathering dust in the corner of the student lounge, plays the most hauntingly beautiful rendition of Mozart, says “I think aliens exist and we should be nice to them” and walks away never to be seen again

"Okay, what errors were made in this lab experiment?” Hueningkai: “Showing up to class.” 

Yeonjun gets drunk at frat parties and makes elaborate plans to kiss Soobin. Except he’s usually conspiring on said plans with a very drunk and very painfully oblivious Soobin

Taehyun and Hueningkai were roommates freshman year. First day of orientation, Taehyun claimed Kai as his and they’ve been bffs ever since.

Soobin: “This class is really similar to the one I took last year.” Beomgyu: “So you’re just taking the class again??” Soobin: “Well, if I wanted to change it, I would have to go talk to people...so yeah!”  

Hueningkai and Yeonjun sustain themselves off of cup noodles and whatever they can steal from the cafeteria (27 containers one time, but who’s counting). It’s not unusual to walk into the dorm kitchen in the middle of the night and see one or both of them standing in the dark slurping noodles with a dead look in their eyes

Beomgyu and Taehyun are each other’s go-to dates for Soobin’s frat’s parties because 1) It saves them the headache of having to figure out dates every time 2) they love to tease people who are jealous 3) who else is gonna turn up with them to “I’m a Barbie Girl” 4) It gives Soobin a migraine every time they clear the living room just to do a dance battle ending in Beomgyu dipping Taehyun, and really isn’t giving Soobin a headache one of the great simple pleasures of life? 

Soobin and Hueningkai one night were like, let’s get an ouija board. Immediate regret. Taehyun didn’t even bother trying to stop them, he just he hid in his room because he is a scaredy cat and smart enough to know not to mess with spirits 

Yeonjun and Beomgyu are straight A students which drives their professors crazy because they’re always talking loudly and goofing off together in class and taking up office hours trying to flirt with the professors 

Taehyun at the library: notebooks open, study guides neatly typed out, 10 highlighters and red pens at the ready, reading three books at once. Soobin next to him: gave up studying twenty minutes ago, downing a family-sized cheeto puffs bag 

Beomgyu and Hueningkai have movie nights in the dorm’s common room (often leading to said popcorn burning). They eventually get banned though because Beomgyu keeps screaming at the jump scares. And because they had reconstructed the entire common room into an elaborate fort 

When Taehyun gets really homesick he sleeps in Yeonjun’s dorm room, curled up on the beat-up bean bag and making that ‘Taehyun scream’ at anyone who tries to make him move. Yeonjun just feeds him snacks by hand and tries to convince the RA, No no, he swears, he really isn’t hiding a pet cat in his room 

Feel free to add more XD

[ttpwtm]

MY FAV LARRY STYLINSON FANFICS FROM AO3

1. Unbelievers

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

2. Flightless Bird

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

3. Baby heavens in your eyes

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

4. Take me to church

Louis is the new kid at school in Bible Belt, USA, who is fascinated by the quiet kid that seems to be an outcast. It takes everything in his arsenal to break the walls of Harry Styles down. Harry has a troubled past that has lead him to go against everything Louis thought he believed. Louis sees something brokenly beautiful in Harry, and Harry finds the stability he has longed for in Louis. After many conversations, Louis makes a confession that could cost them everything.

5. Young & Beautiful

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

6. Tired tired sea

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

7. Wear it like a crown

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

8. Escapade

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

9. Fading

Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

10. Soft hands, fast feet, can't lose

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

11. hoping this cold blue water scrubs me clean and spits me out again

"Stay," Harry whispers desperately, pressing his lips to Louis' temple like he can somehow ease the pain that's blooming there, but he can't make the pain stop and no matter how hard he tries he can't make Louis stay.

[theficpusher]

I know your friends say that I'm trouble by WeAreTheLuckyOnes | E | 807 Liam and Louis hate each other, and they're no good for each other, they both know it, but they continue to fuck anyway.

Try To Tell You No But My Body Keeps On Telling You Yes by likeanchors | E | 1291 Louis hates Nick, but he loves his hands.

Cleanse by iwanttowriteyouafic | E | 1720 They fight, and then they fuck.

Tear You Down by Randominity | E | 2137 So like say Louis thinks Nick is just a hanger-on and is only using Harry to bolster his own fame, while Nick thinks that Louis is an immature brat and should stay out of Nick and Harry's friendship. They somehow end up in a bit of a shouting match and end up having hate!sex, maybe it's in a club bathroom or at a party or something and they're possibly a little drunk?

Running Over Thoughts by kingsofeverything | E | 6381 Harry returns to the beach town where he grew up, only to find that his ex-boyfriend Louis has moved back too.

Five Times Zayn Didn't Speak to Harry (and One Time He Did) by Writcraft | E | 6399 A ‘five times’ fic, in which Zayn and Harry find it easier to fuck than talk.

it's not a walk in the park to love each other by hayley24601 | E | 24461 “Um, where is your stuff? Have you even packed?” Harry tries not to sound irritated. Louis looks up to level him with an unimpressed glare. “If you had bothered to pay attention to the news, you would know that I’m pretty sure I can’t leave this apartment.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry demands, hoping his panic doesn’t show. If Louis missed his flight, Harry will personally pay out of pocket for a new one. He is that desperate for his alone time. Or the one where Harry and Louis are roommates forced to quarantine together, but they hate each other very much a lot.

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | E | 31716 “I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--” “Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.” Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.” “Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?” “Where’s yours for winning cross country?” Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss. Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings | M | 112805 Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity? In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

but we’re still young || h. styles

warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to alcoholism, swearing, brief mentions of death, sexual references, discussions of infertility, googled medical diagnoses, breakup, references to covid, not really proofread

word count: 7.2k

summary: anecdotes of a relationship destined to collapse...

01 march, 2013

“Just talk to her, man!” Liam yelled over the deafening music of the club. Harry sighed, his eyes drifting between the drink in his hands and you. You were dancing with your friends, laughing as the skinny girl tripped over her own feet. Snapping his eyes away from you, he glanced across at Liam, “Bit creepy, though, isn’t it?”

“You have been staring at her for the past five minutes. That’s creepier than just talking to her,” Liam shrugged, patting Harry on the back. 

The band had been given the night off. Finally. Collectively, they’d all decided to go out together. That’s not to say they would be staying out too late, though - they had an early start the next morning. “Yeah, man,” came Niall’s voice. “Just go buy her a drink or something.”

“No,” Louis said quickly, arriving at the bar with Zayn. “Don’t do that. They’d rather you just spoke to them than try and buy them a drink. It makes it seem like you’re trying to get them drunk and, you know…”

Harry finished the rest of his drink, running a hand through his hair. Zayn glanced between him and the exit to the club, “Harry, mate, maybe you shouldn’t. If somebody sees you talking to a girl and leaks it to the press-”

“Well, then they’re a dickhead,” Liam said. “It’s your life, Hazza. Worth a shot, right?”

Zayn sighed, “Yeah, they’re a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be her who faces the consequences for talking to you. You know what they’re like whenever we talk to a girl.”

“Too late,” Niall said quickly, gesturing over to the three girls walking over to the bar. One of the girls was considerably drunker than the others, both of them having to support her. The five boys tried to be subtle as they carefully watched you and your friend sit the drunker one down at the booth by the bar. They could just about hear your conversation over the music. After all, you weren’t sat all that far away. “Jesus, Eileen,” you sighed, examining your giggling friend. “What did you drink?”

“I think we should take her home,” your other friend said. 

“No!” Eileen protested. “We’re having so much fun!”

“You’re so drunk,” the other one laughed at Eileen and your frustrated expression. 

“You know me, Nelly, I love a good vodka and coke!” Eileen grinned. “Once I have one, I can’t stop.”

“Have you considered therapy?” Nelly joked. “An AA meeting, maybe?”

You scoffed, slumping back against the padded fabric of the booth. Brushing the loose strands of Eileen’s hair out of her face, you wrapped her jacket around her bare arms. “Come on,” you sighed, “let’s go home.”

You and Nelly carefully lifted Eileen up from the seat to guide her out of the club. The cold London air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Yes, you may have been slightly tipsy, but you were nowhere near as bad as Eileen. Besides, Nelly was entirely sober. The only thing she’d drunk that night was a glass of lemonade. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d have a glass of wine at fancy dinners and that was usually the extent of it. 

Back inside the sweaty club, Harry was beginning to regret not saying a thing to you at all. He’d watched you leave the club with your friends and he suddenly just wanted to go home. “Tough luck, mate,” Louis sighed, smiling sadly at the deflated boy before him. 

Fortunately for Harry, he noticed something on the table of the booth you’d just been sat at. It was a set of keys. He quickly snatched them up and ran out after you. There was hope for him yet. He ran down the street after you. Thankfully, due to Eileen’s stumbling, you’d yet to get too far. “Excuse me!” he called. “Excuse me, I think you dropped your keys!”

It was you who turned back to look at him. His arm was outstretched, the keys between his fingers. You thanked him as he dropped them into your hand. Once he straightened his back from being hunched over, trying to catch his breath, and his face became illuminated by a streetlamp, did you realise who he was. Harry Styles. You didn’t say anything, though. You assumed he probably got enough of people telling him who he was on the daily that he wouldn’t need an extra one from you. He reached out to shake your other hand, “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Y/N.”

He grinned. Y/N. He knew your name. Your hand was soft against his. You were wearing this black dress, or maybe it was blue. It was too dark to tell. Your lips were red, maybe pink. You smelt of strawberries. “I think you look really pretty,” he said, thankful it was so dark to hide the red tint that graced his cheeks. 

You smiled politely, trying to ignore the sniggering of Nelly and Eileen from behind you. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, unsure what to say next. But he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from his grasp. “Can I have your number?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Of course you weren’t going to just give him your number. 

You shrugged, “I don’t even know you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Your younger brother had given you a full debrief on the members of One Direction last time you’d gone back home to visit your family. He’d made sure not to miss a single detail. So, yes, you did know him. Not personally, of course. But it felt personal. He hung his head, “Yeah. Of course. Why would you trust me?”

You knew he wasn’t saying it in an aggressive or sarcastic way. Really, why would you trust him? You sighed, “You’re famous?”

It was a joke. You were joking. And it took him a split second to laugh. Well, he chuckled, really. “I’ll give you my number if you write a song about me,” you smirked. Again, you were kind of joking. And yet, he nodded. 

“Deal.”

20 november, 2013

And write a song about you he did. You found yourself tangled up in the sheets of his bed five days before his third studio album was set to be released. Two months you’d been together now, and they’d been perhaps the happiest of your life. Running your fingers delicately through his mop of hair, smiling contently as he closed his eyes in utter bliss. It should have been sunny outside, the golden rays practically pouring in through the windows of his flat. But alas, it was pouring with bitter rain. “I have to go soon,” he grumbled, nuzzling his tired face into your waist, wrapping his lethargic arms around your thighs. 

You nodded, sighing, “I know, baby.”

“So much fucking press,” he groaned, forcing his eyes open. “Same fucking questions. What’s your favourite off the album? Who is this one written about? Are you single? Everyone’s in love with you, how does that feel?”

You smiled down at him softly, “Good thing you love talking about yourself then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, “Exactly. Just wish they’d ask something novel and somewhat fucking entertaining. Podcast or songs in the shower? Would you ever become a classical composer? Hardback or paperback?”

“What, and ‘podcast or songs in the shower’ is novel and somewhat fucking entertaining,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, a real exclusive for the journalists.”

He chuckled, dragging himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, emerging in no time at all dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans. Unplugging his phone, he pressed his lips to yours. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

You threw the covers from your body, following him through the flat. Harry grabbed one of his coats, before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

You pulled away quickly, staring up at him, eyes wide, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I guess I do.”

“I guess I love you too.”

When he returned, it was dark. You were lying in his bed, your eyelids heavy. He crept in, kissing you lightly. “I wrote a song about you,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him weakly, “You did? You kept your end of the bargain.”

He nodded. And so, he played it for you. You were curled up in his bedsheets, listening to a song a guy had written about you. And it was pretty fucking good. “When did you write it?” you asked as it came to an end.

“A few nights after we met. Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, grabbing his face to kiss him, “I love it. What’s it called?”

“Little Black Dress.”

07 january, 2014

Months passed. And every single one seemed to get better than the last. It felt as if you were high, right up in the clouds, every waking moment. But you were nervous. Your fingers were practically shaking. However, as soon as Anne opened the door to greet you both with her warming smile, the nerves just seemed to disappear. Vanish. She hugged you first, squeezing you tightly as if she’d know you all her life. She hugged Harry next, hurrying you both in. 

The house was warm and cosy and oh so welcoming. There were pictures on the wall of Harry and Gemma as kids and some of Anne and Robin on their wedding day. You couldn’t help but smile at them. Harry noticed you admiring the snapshots of history that had been framed and hung up on the wall. “Cute, wasn’t I?” he joked, squeezing your hand. 

You shrugged, “Not as cute as Gemma.”

You had met Gemma before. You’d gone out to dinner with her and Harry when he decided he wanted you to meet his family. She was lovely and too kind to you. But this was your first time meeting Anne and Robin. Their warm smiles and kind words did nothing but make you feel at home. 

After chatting for a while, they let you and Harry get settled in. You’d be staying for a couple of days before heading back down to London. He showed you around his childhood bedroom, which did nothing but fill you with joy. “Nothing’s changed,” he smiled, eyes exploring the room that still made him feel like a kid again. “I love coming back. Brings me back down to earth, you know? Back to home. I know it’ll always be here, no matter where I go.”

“That’s poetic,” you said. His lips curved up slightly and when he pressed his lips to your head lightly, you couldn’t help but smile too. It almost felt illegal to be so innocently intimate in his childhood bedroom, filled with long-forgotten memories of a life once lived. 

Later, as the sun set over the house that you already felt so welcomed in, you found yourself sat beside Harry in the kitchen. You’d become acquainted with the cats that inhabited the home and Anne’s gorgeous cooking. As Anne and Robin got to know you, you made sure to ask plenty of questions about them. The smile that adorned your face throughout the evening and the following days never seemed to fade or die away. And, by the end of your stay at Harry’s childhood home, you felt as if you’d known Anne and Robin all your life. As if you’d known the walls of the house all your life. And the pictures of youthful ignorances and watercolours of distant landscapes. And the cats that purred loudly as they ran their head along your legs the last thing before you slept and the first thing before you woke. 

And you were sure you could revel in the feeling of warm, welcoming homeliness of the home and the family for the rest of your life.

12 october, 2014

Nelly had looked truly ravishing on her wedding day. The white dress was an unusual contrast to her jeans and sweaters. You were convinced there was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Harry had been hanging off your arm all evening, like a lost toddler. He’d acted like one too, making comments about being tired and his feet hurting all day. You paid no mind to him, though. This was Nelly’s day and she was your friend and you wanted to be there to support her. You’d known the girl since your first day of secondary school when you were both a mere eleven years old. 

Eileen plopped herself down beside you, her eyes exploring the faces that were lost on her in the large hall. Everybody was mingling now, catching up with people they hadn’t seen since 2010. Her presence pulled you away from your hushed conversation with Harry. “I don’t even know who half of these people are,” Eileen sighed. 

“That’s how it usually goes at weddings,” Harry replied, taking a sip of the provided champagne, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“Like, who even is that?” she sighed, gesturing subtly to an elderly man stood with Nelly and her mother. 

You sighed, “That’s her granddad.”

“Oh,” Eileen said. “Are you sure? I thought her granddad died last year.”

“No, that was my granddad,” you chuckled. “That’s Nelly’s Granddad Joe.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. “They all look the same to me. White hair, wrinkly.”

Harry stifled a snort at Eileen’s nonchalant tone. You patted her shoulder lightly, also amused. Eileen had a habit of growing very tired of boring occasions very quickly. It had happened numerous times before and it always cracked you up. She started up again, “I never mind the actual ceremony, like that’s somewhat interesting. It’s the mingling I can’t stand. We’ve been here for two hours, Nelly’s already married, why do people care about this stuff so much?”

“Because it’s nice to catch up with people,” you replied. 

She lay her head down on your shoulder tiredly, “That’s what Facebook is for.”

Harry chuckled, “Well, she isn’t wrong.”

You tried so hard not to sigh so loudly, but it still came out louder than you perhaps would have liked, “Will you two at least pretend to give a shit? Eileen, this is our best friend getting married and you don’t care. We’ve known her for ten years, liven up. Harry, this is my friend and I want to celebrate with her. Just suck it up and deal with it. We’ll go soon.”

You were quite literally dealing with toddlers. You looked up when Nelly finally came and sat down at the table you’d been huddled around. She finished what was left of her drink and threw her head back. “I’m so tired,” she sighed. Even the bride was beginning to act like a two-year-old. 

“I can imagine,” you offered her your best smile. “So, how does it feel to be married?”

“Relieving,” she explained. “But somewhat anticlimactic. My feet hurt and I’m sick of having to say hello to every single aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece. Just to get told ‘oh, I never thought I’d see our Nelly get married’ or ‘my, haven’t you grown’? Yes, Linda, I have. Because it’s been seven years since you’ve last seen me, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

The three of you exchanged amused glances at Nelly’s grumbling. She was throwing her arms about, staring down at the white tablecloth that had a big wine stain in it. Your mother had knocked over her wine when explaining to Harry how much of a teacher’s pet you were in school. Obviously, you had to interject and explain that caring about grades didn’t equal a teacher’s pet. “Oh, you never thought you’d see your Nelly get married, did you? Well, maybe that’s because gay marriage was only legalised last year. Fucking disgusting,” Nelly went on.

Eileen quickly held up her hand, “Please, we’ve heard this rant before.”

Nelly sighed, glancing boredly at Eileen. You all sat in peaceful silence for a moment, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s large hand on your leg. When your mother finally came over, telling you she was heading off, you decided it was time for your departure too. So, congratulating Nelly and her new wife, Emma, on their marriage and beautiful ceremony and bidding farewell to those you were sure you wouldn’t see again until 2016, you and Harry ventured back to your little flat. 

Once you were showered and out of the dress you felt so beautiful in, you tumbled into bed, happy to finally have those heels off. Harry’s suit was stranded across your bedroom floor in little piles of shirt and trouser and sock. “Can I perform at our wedding?” he asked, turning to look at you as you lay your head back against the inviting softness of your pillow. 

His question and casual tone is what awoke all the life in you. You didn’t sit up dramatically and make a scene about it. You merely rolled over to face him directly, smiling softly at him, “Who said we’ll be getting married?”

He shrugged, “I think it’d be quite nice if we did one day.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, finding a wonderful level of contentment in the discussion of the future with Harry. “But you’re not performing at it.”

He chuckled, “Why not? Me and the boys. The lads and I. A bit of Up All Night? Some more recent stuff? Come on, Y/N, you’d love it.”

“Not when my new husband is singing with his little boyband.”

Hearing you refer to Harry as your ‘new husband’ certainly made him light up inside. And his head was suddenly filled with all sorts of fantasies of what it would be like to wake up beside you every day. To come home from a long day and order food in because neither of you could be bothered to cook. To get your first pet together, probably name it after a character in a show you were presently obsessed with. To raise a family together. To fight through the sleepless nights of infancy, but knowing it would all be worth it because, at the end of the day, he knew you’d always be there. Just as he’d always be there for you. 

And he smiled, because he knew this was where he wanted to stay for as long as he can. With you. 

15 may, 2015

It felt different waking up under the sun in Italy. Same sun, just… different. It was Italian. It was glorious. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of not having management drag Harry out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the refreshing release of the pressures of university coursework. Perhaps it was the mere fact that you were completely alone with nobody to interrupt you. 

Harry’s hair was splayed out across the cool silk pillows that rested quite perfectly on the bed you wished belonged to you. His tattooed arms were slung lazily over your body and the thin sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed in your sleep. It was something about being on holiday that always made you tired, despite doing nothing but reading or lounging about in the sun or splashing about in the pool. 

He was snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly. You were happy, though, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that replaced a wall of the bedroom in the villa you were staying at. It opened up onto the pool and had a simply marvellous view of the blue sea. It was a short walk into town, but you and Harry had made a point of exploring it all within the first three days so you could spend the rest of your overdue holiday cuddled up together in the sunlight.

When Harry stirred, his tired eyes still full of sleep, you finally sat up. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you back down. You laughed, trying desperately to pry his fingers off your skin. “I’m getting up now,” you said happily. 

“Don’t,” he grumbled, closing his sleepy eyes again. “Why get up when we can stay here forever?”

“Why stay here forever when we’re literally in Italy and there’s a pool outside?” you countered. 

“But why go swim in the pool when we did that yesterday?”

You shook your head at him, laughing. You pulled yourself away from the bed that could only be described as heavenly. He watched you leave, smiling away to himself. Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries, you wandered out into the garden of the villa. Soon enough, Harry joined you in his yellow shorts. Of course there had been paparazzi pictures of you and Harry exploring Amalfi, hands clasped together tightly. But, for once, you paid no mind to them. Usually, you found it hard not to stare at the pictures of you and Harry for hours, picking apart all the pixelated details of your face and body. You would be lying if you said it didn’t take a toll on you mentally. But, when you were able to turn your phone off for a week and just enjoy the world around you, it left you feeling refreshed and cleansed. 

Harry sat himself down by the side of the pool, letting his legs swing between the cool ripples of water. He lay his head back, letting his eyes flutter shut. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. You were both in silent agreement that this was where you wanted to go when you died. 

When you finished your strawberries and your lips and fingertips smelt suitably like them, you clambered up from the bench and slipped quietly into the pool. The water was contrastingly cold compared to the sun that beat down relentlessly but perfectly. You swam towards Harry, interlacing your strawberry-scented fingers with his own. He looked down at you, smiling brightly at the sight of such. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You grinned, “I love you too.”

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession with me,” he replied, shrugging jokingly.

You scoffed, “If anyone has an unhealthy obsession with someone, it’s you. Let’s go to Italy, you said, you can finish your uni coursework later. You begged me to come here with you.”

He smirked down at you, “Begged? You seemed pretty eager to me.”

“Well, you never have been very observant,” you joked, squeezing his hands tightly, before dragging him into the pool with you. 

When he finally resurfaced, brushing his long hair out of his green eyes, he reached out to grasp you. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your body submerged in the water. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he held you as if he was scared you were going to be pulled away from him. As if was the last time he would ever get to feel your skin against his own. “When we go home,” he whispered, “move in with me.”

You lay your head against his shoulder, softly closing your eyes. All you needed was the sound of his light breathing and the increased beating of his heart as he waited for any kind of indication of a response from you. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, equally as quiet.

You didn’t want to make a deal about moving in with Harry. The setting wasn’t right. You were holding each other tightly in the pool of an Italian villa in Amalfi, the world around you warm and serene. So, you agreed gently, buzzing violently inside at the prospect of all the adventures you and Harry could get up to living together.  

02 july, 2016

You’d lived in Harry’s flat for a month before you both decided to buy your own house. It was a lovely home in Chelsea that you and Harry had simply fallen in love with when you first saw it. It felt perfect in the sunlight and in the pouring rain. But, as you both returned from going out for drinks after your university graduation ceremony, you were quickly irritated by the half-painted walls and flat-pack furniture. 

A week or two prior to your graduation ceremony, you had both been sat at the island in the kitchen, when you both decided that you wanted to renovate the house. Maybe replace the grey walls in the living room with a forest green and swap out the black and white furniture for navys and mustards. The modern style of the house had been nice at first, but it quickly began to feel like less of a home and more of an office building. So, you decided to change it up a bit.

Harry recently got back from America after finishing some last-minute shoots on the new Christopher Nolan film he’d been cast in. While you’d visited him once when he was shooting in Dunkirk, you still felt eternally grateful to have him back home. And, while you could sit and hear him talk about what it was like working with Christopher Nolan and the likes of Tom Hardy and Kenneth Branagh, you grew increasingly stressed about graduating and renovating the house. But now the graduation was over and you were officially free of education. The renovation was well underway and you were actively seeking a job with your English literature degree. “Thank God that’s over,” you sighed, sitting down at the kitchen island after pouring yourself a glass of chocolate milk. “Finally free of the tiresome shackles that are higher education.”

He snorted at you, “I’m proud of you. Just think, you were only in your first year at university when we first met.”

You couldn’t help but smile. So much had changed in the last three years of your life. You were sat with your boyfriend, who had just come back from shooting a movie, in the kitchen of your own house in Chelsea, London having just come back from your university graduation ceremony. One of your closest friends was married and had been happily for coming up to two years. The other had just got herself into a relationship after ranting to you about how she wanted to stay single forever countless times before. Life was good and you were content in where you were for your age. Who wouldn’t be? You’d just broken into your 20s and were about to enter the brutal world of careers. “I miss your long hair,” you said suddenly, pouting slightly at the sight of Harry without his hair you’d grown so used to. 

“I don’t. Dries so much quicker after showers,” he said. “Stays out of my face when I’m doing stuff. Doesn’t get knotted so easily. So many perks to shorter hair.”

“But you looked so hot with it,” you said, mocking a sad tone.

He smiled, “Don’t I look hot now?”

You shrugged, “You always look hot. Just less hair to grab now.”

His cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so cheeky sometimes!”

“Just speaking the truth, your honour,” you raised your hands in surrender. “What shall we order in for dinner?”

“Up to you, it’s your day after all,” he smiled. “I’m just going for a shower, so just order me whatever.”

As he got up, he pressed his lips to yours briefly as he walked past, squeezing your shoulder. It was the domesticity of it that made you fall in love with him more and more. Late nights binging crappy tv shows and early morning leftovers and the moment of realisation that you’d forgotten to water the plants by the kitchen window. It was what you’d imagined the entire time you’d been with Harry. All of these hypotheticals that you had stored away in your mind were now your simply marvellous reality.

10 may, 2017

The topic of children had been brought up a few times before. You’d both agreed that you wanted them one day. Mid-twenties maybe, 25 or 26? You’d been together since you were both nineteen, but you were still young. That’s not to say that if you happened to fall pregnant now you’d be entirely opposed to becoming parents. Your house had long been finished and you had a decent job and Harry had his debut album and his film coming out. 

But presently, you found yourself sat on the sofa, listening to Harry’s completed album. Anne was sat beside you, silently absorbing the masterpiece that her son had crafted. As Two Ghosts slowly became Sweet Creature, you felt yourself tear up, only to look over and find Anne in floods of tears. You knew, as you listened intently to the lyrics, it was Harry’s way of assuring you it was going to be okay. You didn’t need to worry about starting a family yet. You didn’t need to worry about arguing with him. It would all be okay in the end. 

As the final note of From the Dining Table echoed across your living room, it was safe to say you and Anne were both desperate to hear it all again. Harry Styles being unapologetically himself was something you would be eternally proud of him for. 

21 july, 2017

Maybe if you hadn’t gone to the Dunkirk premiere on Harry’s arm, you wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy. You were there to look nice and give the newspapers something to talk about the next morning. Always something about ‘HARRY STYLES AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND Y/N Y/L/N AT DUNKIRK PREMIERE’ which would be full of meaningless facts about your relationship, your education and career and family, who styled the two of you. Of course, you were excited to see Harry in a project he’d put so much life into and you were so proud of him. But it was when you and Harry were being interviewed that you began to feel uncomfortable. 

It had started off fine with questions about what prompted Harry to star in a film, what it was like working with Christopher Nolan, that sort of thing. But, as usual, the interviewers managed to make smooth transitions into Harry’s personal life. “Y/N, you and Harry have been together since 2013, how does it feel to see him succeed on such a global scale?” one asked. 

Your gaze shifted between Harry and the camera behind the interviewer, “Well, he’s happy, isn’t he? And, as long as he’s happy, I’ll always be proud of him.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself at your answer, as did the interviewer, who knew they were getting some good footage. It wasn’t often you did publicity things. Obviously, you would have to be in certain places with Harry to spark some news articles, which were completely set up by Harry’s management. You didn’t mind that so much. But being asked about yourself and your relationship was something you didn’t like all that much. You’d go live on Instagram sometimes and you would get a couple of questions about Harry, which you were usually happy to answer. And if you felt uncomfortable answering them, you could just pretend you hadn’t seen it. But in real-life interviews, there was no escaping them and the hole the camera burnt into you. “So, you two have obviously been together for nearly five years,” another began, “is there any possibility of children in your future?”

Harry had been getting the kids question since he turned twenty, but this one seemed to make him flinch slightly. Maybe it was the recent tension you’d both been feeling about starting a family. Were you ready? Weren’t you? Should you get a home that wasn’t so central first? All these questions that neither of you knew the answers to. Maybe it was the recent loss of Harry’s stepfather and the ripple that had caused within the family. “I think we should get a cat before we have a child,” was your reply, your tone joking and your smile friendly, but your answer serious. 

Harry chuckled, “I think we’re both still quite young and we’re both committed to our careers, so having a child right now would just be illogical and impractical. I think it’s healthy to focus on ourselves and our relationship for a few years more.”

But that wasn’t the last question about parenthood. And with each one, you began to feel the pressure of society to start a family more and more. It was actually such a relief to get into the cinema, sit down and just enjoy the film. When you finally got home and up into bed, you had to roll over and voice your thoughts to Harry. “Should we have a baby?” you asked quietly.

“Not if you’re not ready,” he replied in a hushed tone as if he’d been expecting you to bring such a topic up. And, truth be told, he had. He had watched your eyebrows furrow more every time you were asked about kids and your tone become an increasingly stronger mix of shakiness and aggressiveness. 

“Everyone expects us to, Harry,” you said. 

“Well, they’re not in our relationship. It’s your body, love, when you want a kid, we’ll have a kid.”

09 january, 2019

One year ago, you and Harry had decided to start trying for a baby. You had both reached a point in your lives where you were happy and comfortable. You decided it was the perfect time to start expanding your quiet little home. Neither of you were to know the stress that would come in the following months. 

It had been a year. A year and not even a single sign of pregnancy. None of your periods were significantly late, you never felt the urge to throw up in the morning. No weird cravings, no weight gain. 

You were round at Nelly’s house with Eileen. Her wife, Emma, was out for the day so Nelly had invited the two of you round. Six episodes deep into the latest craze of television, the three of you found more interest in conversation. “How’s Harry?” Eileen asked after she’d finished telling you about the new dog she and her boyfriend, Charlie, had adopted. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to lie and say he was fine; that the two of you were fine. Because you weren’t. Every single negative pregnancy test resulted in an extra argument, more pressure and stress and lots more guilt on both ends. “Yeah, yeah, he’s good. We’re good,” you said. 

“You’re such a liar,” Nelly laughed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to explain everything to your friends. From the pressures of the media to the failure to conceive. The two girls sat and listened in silence, absorbing the piles of information you were presenting them with. And, when you were finally finished, Eileen said, “Maybe you should go to the doctors about that. If it’s been a year and you still aren’t pregnant, it might be something they can fix… you know, cure.”

“I’d rather not know if there’s something wrong with me,” you grumbled. 

“I think you would. It would be better to know, right? As Eileen said, it might be something they have some pills for,” Nelly said.

“They have pills for everything,” you sighed. “But fine, I’ll go to the doctors. Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” Nelly smiled softly as Eileen leaned over to squeeze your trembling hand. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“I’ll tell him if something happens. If they say it’s nothing, then he doesn’t need to know,” you said quietly. 

Nelly and Eileen exchanged a silent glance, before Eileen said, “It’s been a year, Y/N. It must be something.”

17 january, 2019

You sat nervously opposite the doctor. Your knee was bouncing and your heart rate can’t have been healthy. You had gotten up early, leaving Harry asleep in bed, to come and collect your results from the doctor. She smiled softly at you and it definitely made you feel more comfortable. “So, Y/N. Your results came back and it appears you have Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or DOR. Basically, you have a lower number or quality of eggs, which makes it harder to reproduce. Essentially, you don’t have as much reproductive potential left within your ovaries.”

Her words quickly became a ringing noise rooted deep within your ears. Your eyes fell from her own and found the horrible carpet on the floor far more comforting. You were alone now and you were beginning to wish you’d brought one of the girls or your mother or even Harry. “I-is there any kind of treatment?” you asked. 

She leant back in her chair slightly, interlocking her hands on her lap, “We can prescribe some supplements, which will hopefully increase fertility. But if you want a child, there’s always adoption or we can even try IVF. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You nodded, grabbing your coat from the chair beside you and slipping your arms into it. You thanked her quickly, taking the supplements and leaving. Everything seemed to pass you by in a blur. It took you a long time to collect your thoughts. And, as you reached your front door, it hit you that you were to blame for the lack of positive pregnancy tests. It was your eggs that were fucking it all up. You might even have a baby right now if it weren’t for you. You took a moment to wipe away the tears that were falling freely from your eyes. You rested your head against the front door before finally pushing your way through. 

Harry was sat at the piano in the corner of the living room. He was still in his pyjamas and there was a glass of half-drunken orange juice on the coffee table. He didn’t turn to look at you when he heard you enter, he just said, “Morning, love. Where have you been? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

He was busy scribbling in his notebook to take any real interest in your whereabouts. This was the problem with the hole you and Harry had dug yourselves trying to conceive: nobody cared anymore. He didn’t care where you went or how you were. He didn’t care how your mother was. You didn’t care about how his day was. You didn’t care how his friends were getting on.  Nobody cared anymore and it was driving you insane. “The doctors,” you said firmly, standing in the doorframe of the living room, waiting for him to turn around. To face you. To fucking look you in the eye and not be a coward for once in his life.

But alas, he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the scribbles of lyrics, “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Shit,” you snapped. “It was fucking shit. I can’t have kids. We can’t have kids. If you cared to know.”

“How come?” he asked, his back paying you more attention than his eyes. 

“Because, Harry, I’m fucking infertile. Okay? I’m infertile. I have Diminished Ovarian Reserve. So, we can’t have kids, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can try again later.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what you were talking about. You finally snapped in that moment. You’d had enough of living like this. “Why are we trying, Harry?” you asked, the tears you’d tried so hard to hide resurfacing.

“Because I thought you wanted kids,” he replied. 

“No, Harry. Why are we trying? With us. Neither of us cares about the other, we’re both miserable. You’d rather be anywhere but here. And I can’t stand this house any longer. We’re both fucking miserable so why are we still trying? Why are we still fighting for this? Why are we still fighting for a relationship that died months ago?”

He turned to look at you. The scribbling had stopped. The tinkering on the piano had stopped. He was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t think about it, “I am happy, love. Can’t you see?”

You shook your head, stepping back, “No, you’re not. You’re angry at me and you’ll only blame me because I can’t give us children. I need to leave, Harry.”

“What? Y/N, wait,” he said, but you’d already marched up the stairs to your bedroom. He knew you were packing your things up and what you couldn’t pack you’d come back for later. He knew he couldn’t stop you from leaving. He knew he’d be wrong for trying. Maybe you were right, maybe he was miserable, but he still loved you. God, he was so fucking in love with you. And now he was watching the girl he’d loved since he first laid eyes on her dancing in that club with her friends in 2013 walk out of his life. 

When you came back down the stairs, some bags thrown over your shoulder, you stood in the doorway to get a final glimpse of him. He looked up, meeting your eyes. Your pretty eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But he knew you weren’t apologising for the outburst. He knew you weren’t going to come crying into his arms and apologise profusely. He knew he wouldn’t have the chance to explain that they could work through it together. As they always had done before. 

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And you were gone. You did love him. You felt obliged to tell him so. But you needed to leave. You were being strangled in that relationship, in that house. And you knew he was too. You’d grown to resent each other, but you were sure you would love him forever.

13 april, 2021

The baby gurgled loudly, clasping your hair between his fingers. You smiled down at the little miracle in your arms. He was only six months old. But what a little bundle of joy he was. You looked up at the sight of Eileen emerging from the shop, tucking her mask into her pocket, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

You handed him back to his mother. You had swiftly agreed to look after baby Oliver while Eileen ducked into a shop to buy Charlie his birthday present. You both wandered through the hot streets of London, patrolling the fresh fruit market that radiated a vast variety of marvellous scents. Oliver was asleep, the sun making him tired. You liked the little world you’d built up for yourself since 2019. You were a couple of years older with a flat of your own, with plants you still forget to water. And yet, you couldn’t help the prideful smile that took over your features when you heard that Harry had won a Grammy. Any bitterness you’d felt for him soon dissipated. It was your fault for the collapse of your relationship as much as it was his. 

But, when you saw Harry Styles purchasing some fresh strawberries just a few metres away, it all came flooding back. A tsunami of forgotten memories. You felt like a young and innocent university student who fell in love too quickly again. Maybe that was the reason you approached him. As he turned to leave the stand, his eyes connected with yours. You smiled softly, “Hi, Harry.”

[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

[suzypepper]

Ok I listened to the whole podcast because unfortunately I always listen to Liam Payne’s podcast interviews tbh and also I was toldddddd there was juicy scathing hurts-to-watch-but-can’t-look-away one direction drama. That not true lol. He kinda made fun of zayn being a shit partner to Gigi (which he is), he gloated about supposedly getting billions of streams on strip that down (🙄), he talked about Simon cowell putting together the band and planning for Liam to be the breakout star, and he said one time he got in a physical scuffle with another of the guys and they put their hands on him and he said “you’ll lose your hands” jfc I don’t know what allergy 1d fans have to actually seeking out the source of the information they feverishly spread but they really never do

My main takeaways are:

-he says he still sees his kid on a very regular basis and is on good terms with the kid’s mom and I am glad to hear it

-he’s not writing and releasing new pop ballads and touring the world like his ex-bandmates are because he obviously doesn’t want to do that. If his fans would actually listen to the words coming out of his mouth for the past several years they would already know this. His career is not being sabotaged by any Big Bad Guy

- millionaire crypto guys are the worst most obnoxious people on the planet I hate investing I hate nfts I hate web 3 I hate “projects and companies in the works” I can’t believe I listened to over an hour of these people

-don’t say a single word about amber heard good god I had to take a break and lie down. Doing a Johnny depp impression and then saying “amber heard is shivering” you aren’t stupid I know you know what you’re implying and you will rot in h e double hockey sticks

-Logan Paul and crew think Liam should fight Justin Bieber men are so fucking stupid

-one direction used to not get along backstage one time somebody put him hands on Liam and Liam said "you’ll never use your hands again" oh my god I don't care

-he made fun of zayn. Specifically about his relationship which… did everyone else just forget that he was arrested for his violent harassment toward Gigi and Yolanda. Both of these guys suck and Liam didn’t even say anything that bad I don’t know why people are desperately defending zayn here

-he was asked about his feelings toward zayn and he implied that he doesn’t want to be too harsh because zayn’s been through a lot; zayn didn’t have the support system that Liam did. Maybe that was an insult, maybe he was airing somebody else’s business when he shouldn’t have, but again, the way that one direction fans have been talking about Gigi and Yolanda since zayn was arrested makes me not care!! Sorry!!

-Liam was meant to be the frontman of one direction yes we knew this, but I didn’t know he was meant to actually breakout and be a solo star and use the boyband feature as a jumping off point like nick + Jonas brothers. If that’s what he was implying idk I think so.

-he said he hopes Justin Bieber is being taken well care of by his team because he’s a good kid. Liam also said that he still needs to fight his “demons.” He was also drinking the whole time and we’ve seen him obviously drunk or high and acting stupid in public in public way too many times Liam is the one who needs to be better taken care of. Why is he talking about physically fighting his managers why are his managers right there off screen drinking right along with him that’s all really not a good sign

[falsegoodnight]

as per request, here’s a rec list of my favorite canon compliant and non-aus! 

note: based on the ask i received, i wasn’t sure if mpreg/abo were off-limits so i only included a few of those - it’s all indicated so you can avoid that if it’s not what you’re looking for!

also: some of these i read a long long time and only vaguely remember so keep that in mind! they’re marked with a *!

✰ burnt & tied up by @tllthesundies | E | 6k 

Come to the show tonight, Harry told him. Begged him. Pleaded with him.

Louis isn’t doing this for him.

✰ Makes Perfect by checkthemargins | E | 9k

"What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?" Louis presses. "Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don't know, a pillow or something. Whatever it'd fit around."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. "It's different, though, innit? When it's a real person. A pillow won't snog me."

"Why should it?" says Louis. "You can't even take its bra off."

✰ How’s About We Make A Baby? by @the-cheshire-pussy-cat​ | M | 12k | mpreg

Everyone always talks about how Harry Styles would very much like a baby. Louis would swear on his grave that he's doing everything he can to give him one.

✰ Just Let Me by @helloamhere | E | 15k | abo

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

✰ bang bang (my baby shot me down) by @thepolourryexpress | E | 17k 

Harry wants a little more in the bedroom and has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

✰ late night devil (put your hands on me) by @goodmorninglou | E | 20k | abo

Harry Styles has always put up with him. With every snip of attitude, every idiotic act of stubbornness, every harsh and sour word. Each time Louis thinks he's stepped too far, clung too tight, bitten too hard, Harry is there to forgive him, to protect him, to hold him. Maybe he was naive to think that, no matter how hard he pushed, Harry would never move.

Maybe he should have seen it coming.

✰ england has my bones by @tllthesundies | E | 24k 

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

✰ Another Day Gettin’ Into Trouble by @crazyupsetter | E | 26k

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

✰ True North* by navigator & quitter | E | 26k

Altered-canon non-au set between November 2012 and January 7th, 2013.

✰ we can take the long way home by eleadore | E | 27k | implied mpreg

The band takes a break. Harry and Louis come together.

✰ the way this river runs by @soldouthaz | E | 27k

Louis is provided a chance to start over. He takes it.

✰ like a timebomb ticking by @infinitelymint | M | 32k

Louis loses everything. Harry's still there.

✰ what’s yours is mine to make your own by @soldouthaz | E | 40k

Sometimes, the closest Harry ever feels to home is Louis. It's their shared hotel rooms on tour, their shoes toed off in the doorway next to each other, jackets hung on the same post.

It's everything he doesn't notice until it's been taken away from him.

✰ Something in the World Today by @crazyupsetter | E | 48k

It shouldn’t be a surprise, the first time that Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry. It shouldn’t be, because it’s been something that Louis has needed for a long time. It shouldn’t be, because he’s been crawling out of his skin for weeks on end. It shouldn’t be, because Harry always makes him feel better. It shouldn’t be, because he’s needed this even when he didn’t know that he needed it.

Somehow, it still is.

✰ Swallow The Knife by @crazyupsetter | E | 76k 

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

*note: i only included three fics from whoknows on this list but they have a whole bunch of canon-compliant fics, all of which are incredible!

✰ Untangle Me* by suicxne | E | 103k

The one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

✰ the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by @obviouslybecauselarry | E | 138k | mpreg

The one in which One Direction in 2015 still includes Zayn, and nothing has been right between Harry and Louis for a long time now. Louis is certain that the situation he finds himself in won't change anything at all - he doesn't want it to, if he is honest with himself, as he doesn't want this situation to be a situation in the first place.

✰ And Then A Bit* by @infinitelymint | E | 159k 

Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

✰ Hiding Place* by @alivingfire | E | 365k 

The canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[eternalmx]

warnings : smut. this is filthy. I'm so sorry but hey enjoy little freaks😚❤️ I think there's some fluff but don't hold me to it it's barely noticeable.

🦋a/n : um... i don't know hat I should say besides shownu😂. the vibes though kakdjd from the song and reading this 😅oof. anyways, I'm still in the midst of working on request but I had this in my drafts and I hope it holds you over until I finish up and post them! thank you for loving my writing and requesting as well! enjoy. ❤️ p.s requests are always open unless stated otherwise. any member any genre feel free to request! and feedback is always welcomed❤️

Drunk

{2:15𝖆𝖒} Hyunwoo's hand traveled up and down you leg as you cuddled into him. You body soaked in the scent of him. His breathing was calming, chest rising and falling causing you to close your eyes. His hands creeping under his shirt that you were wearing. You opened your eyes to look at him. His hands ran up and down your side.

"May I?" he asked as his hand touched the clasp of your bra. You nodded looking at him. His skin glowing from the alcohol you both consumed.

"Will you remember this tomorrow?" you asked, laughing a little because the alcohol flowing through your veins. Your hand pushing his hair back.

"Are you going to remember this tomorrow?" he asked, smiling. This was fun. The both of you buzzed but still coherent and very well aware. His hands traveled to your back and I hooked your bra as he helped take it off and threw it on the floor.

Hyunwoo's hand pushed the shirt up to your waist. He pulled you into his lap and you pushed your hips against his. He let out a low groan and tugged softly at your hair. Your lips only inches apart as his hands softly moved their way up your thighs.

"Please babe...." you said, against his lips as you kissed him roughly.

"Mmh. Please what baby?" he said, pulling away from the kiss. His hand rubbing circles close and closer to your core. You moaned lowly and closed your eyes.

"Touch me" you said, breathlessly, taking his hand and placing it on your core. He smiled and hummed lightly. Planting a kiss on your head before slowly teasing you.

His fingers rubbed circles causing your hips to rock softly against his. The room fell silenet only the sound of your breathless moans and some groans w everytime your hips pushed against his.

"Fuck babe, i-if you keep doing that I'm going to cum in my pants" he said, gently lifting your hips and pushing his pants along with his boxers down. Your hands wrapped around his manhood and began slowly moving up and down. He shut his eyes and his head fell back.

"Look at me baby" you say, using your free hand to lift his head to look at you. He grabbed the sides of your neck pulling you into a rough kiss. His lips hot and soft, made their way down your neck, sucking and kissing all the right spots.

"Oh g-" you gasped, as he slipped a finger in you. Your mouth pushed against his roughly as your hips desperately chased the relief your body wa begging for. He inserted another finger as your hips began helping great more friction.

"You look so beautiful with my fingers in you" he said, breaking the kiss and slowing his pace as he slowly stopped and pulled his fingers out. He put his hands up to your lips and you let him push them in. You sucked his fingers clean and his eyes filled with lust.

"Good girl" he gripped you by your waist and lifted you up a bit to help adjust your entrance along his manhood. He slowly lowered you onto himself as you both let out deep breaths. Your hips moving against his slowly at first as you adjusted to his size. His hands resting on the small of your back under his t-shirt you were still wearing. It was bunched up at your waist as you continued to rocking against him. His hip bucking up every now and then to create move friction.

""I'm close babe" he said, hands pulling you closer to his body. His hands guiding you to push farther against his hips. You threw you head back in pleasure as his lips once again sucked at your sweet spot. Your hips began to slow as you clenched around his length.

"M-me too" you said, his movements becoming sloppier along with yours. His grip on your hips tightening as you both reached your climax together.

"Fuck!" he groaned, as he released into you. His grip still tight on your hips and he helped lift you off of him. He managed to take the shirt off of you before you laid down panting. He used it to clean up the mess between your legs and you looked up at him confused.

"We'll throw this out" he said, laughing and tossing the shirt by the door. "Now let's go get cleaned up and go to bed" he said, placing a kiss on your head and pulling your hand into his as he lead you to the bathroom.

[goodguydotmp3]

two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others. 

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

 Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort. 

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like! 

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months. 

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time. 

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It  actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE! 

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take. 

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen 

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that  gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer. 

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does. 

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!) 

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app. 

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo. 

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK. 

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles. 

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus. 

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels