#despite the fact I am actually the worst at tagging my own shit I do have very distinct ideas about how tags should be applied | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

486 notes · View notes

acespec-ed · 3 years ago

Text

Internalized Aphobia

I got a confession to make.

I have a bad case of internalized aphobia.

I never actually thought about it until recently. But I honestly do. To the point where I feel like I’m absolutely ridiculous for even considering the fact internalized aphobia is a thing. Sometimes I think we’re all ridiculous for even thinking aphobia on its own is a thing. We’re all just overreacting to plant jokes, come on now.

Not to get into the argument-that-must-not-be-named, but part of me blames that. I was never even active in that mess. Back in those days, I’d occasionally scroll through the tag out of curiosity. Or boredom. Or maybe I was actually doing it as a form of self-harm. Who knows. All I know is, I’m familiar with the shit aphobes say, and I’m pretty sure that affected me in ways I never considered.

It all starts with the fact that I’m a “cishet ace” in a “straight” relationship. I have not experienced direct oppression of any sort. No one is beating me up. No one gets upset when they see me with my boyfriend. I can use the woman’s restroom with no consequences. No one is going to refuse service to me. My family is not going to disown me. I am exactly what aphobes are describing when discussing the (in)validity of “cishet” aces. The worst thing I’ve experienced was feeling broken my whole life until I discovered the ace spectrum. Sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in with the rest of the world. Sometimes aphobes say things about aces that hurt my feelings. But that’s it. I never experienced oppression for being ace. So I assume other aces are in the same boat. Aside from corrective rape, what “big” problems were there?

There was one major, fatal flaw I did not see in my experience compared to what other aces may go through.

I never came out to anyone.

It’s kinda hard for an asexual to have these kind of issues if the asexual hasn’t told anyone they’re asexual. So how is someone gonna beat me up for being asexual, when no one knows I am? How is someone going to refuse me service? How will my family disown me? No one knows any of this. (Except my boyfriend, who was supportive but it probably helped that he was the only person I was sexually attracted to.)

Why have I not come out to anyone?

I see no need to. To everyone, I look like the average “straight” person. Since I’m already in a relationship, nobody is asking me questions about dating and whatnot. Maybe if I was single, I’d tell people. But since I’m in a relationship anyway, why bother? There’s no need to come out anyway because saying I’m asexual is like announcing my sex life to the world and no one wants to hear that.

I see no reason in telling anyone I’m ace. What’s the use in it, really? It would be all risk and no reward.

All risk? What risk?

Dealing with invasive questions about my sex life. Dealing with ignorant questions and remarks involving my relationship with my boyfriend. Getting hit with aphobic comments. Having my feelings and orientation invalidated. And the biggest one- corrective rape.

Corrective rape seems to be the only, legitimate problem. So what if someone hurts my feelings or interrogates me on every aspect of my relationship? That’s nothing compared to the risk the other letters go through. No one beats up asexuals. No one disowns them. No one fires them. Right?

Then again, how would I know what people would do if they knew I was ace? I’m not a mind reader.

Then there’s the fact I’d never even hint to a doctor I’m asexual. I’m not risking that shit. Anyone kind enough to read this far already knows why.

Shouldn’t that tell me something?

There’s no asexual conversion camps. Only the other letters go through that. Except for part where medical professionals feel like a disinterest in sex is a thing that needs to be cured. People are attempting to cure asexuals of their orientation. That sounds like a form of conversion therapy. But no, that’s not the same thing at all. This is horrible. I’m horrible for comparing doctors thinking there’s a medical reason for being asexual to something so serious as conversion therapy.

Back in college, I was seeing counselor for depression. At some point during that time period, I discovered I was demisexual. I was so excited, I considered sharing my joy of this with her. But we discussed other things and I figured, what was even the point of bringing it up? Plus there was a small part of me fearful that she would invalidate it somehow. And that would’ve killed me inside.

I could tell my counselor all about how I wished I didn’t exist, but I couldn’t bring myself to say “I’m demisexual.” How pathetic is that?

Despite all this, when the ace you-know-what first popped up, I was 100% neutral on the subject. I felt as a “cishet,” I had no say in the matter. It was up to the other, actually oppressed, letters to decide whether or not I counted as LGBT+. After all, I had never experienced oppression for being asexual and therefore, neither has any other heteroromantic ace.

And yet I began hearing stories about asexuals being disowned for being ace. Being pushed into having sex. Being harassed. Being forced to see a doctor to be “fixed.”

But no, those are just stories on the internet and people lie on the internet all the time. If it happens, it’s rare. Besides, why do asexuals need to come out to anyone other than their romantic partner anyway? This is all easily avoided by keeping it to yourself.

I haven’t even gotten into the internalized aphobia I have regarding the gray area of asexuality. But this post is long enough. Maybe some other time.

If I don’t end up with an askbox full of death threats for simply using the word “oppressed” in regards to asexuals. After all, asexuals don’t experience oppression like the other letters. Internalized aphobia isn’t real. All of this is fake and my existence is a joke.

#asexual #asexuality #internalized aphobia #my experiences #issues #tw aphobia #okay to reblog but aphobes dni i have enough of this shit to undo

29 notes · View notes

emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years ago

Text

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request.

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE*

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.” Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.” The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.” Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

#oc: fane lavellan #welcome to the future! :3 #where fane is more complete and content but suffering in different ways #no one said the path would be easy *shakes head sadly*#again. fane is...a ball of many things and his titles and names show that XD #*thinks about writing post-trepasser shenanigans* :3 #fane used to fuck off elgar'nan as a dragon so HARD #maybe why the god vengeance decided to personally attack him #HMMMM.#dragon age #male lavellan

21 notes · View notes

demwhore · 4 years ago

Text

summer (l.ty)

pairing┃boxer! lee taeyong and college student! OC ft. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny and Taeil + mention of Bang Chan and Namjoon genre | fluff, slight angst | boxer! au warnings | slow-burn, language, mention of ass ( i know taeyong has none but alright), lots of banter, physical injuries, mention of blood, violence, mention of steroid usage, making out in the boxing gym, too much plot but aight, smut (for those uncomfortable, the smut is placed at the very end; the note indicates mature content, read at your own risk ) subtle sub!-dom! themes, unprotected sex, fingering, eating out, penetration, biting, marking, creampie, edging it’s not really that dirty but it’s just passionate lovemaking word count | 25k

synopsis |

“If two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back.”

Or in which, you are stranded in your university due to summer classes and you had a little reunion with your ex that you last saw two years ago.

a/n | this is part of @neo-cult-ure‘s summer collab! taglist | @cinanamon @jaesmintea @jungcity @seongghwaa @mjlkau @neoyoungho for helping me with proofreading. tags | @ethaeriyeol @yuta-nakitamoto @suhweo @neocity-sarai @jaeminsmainbitch @the32ndbeat @bumblebeenct @cloudynakamoto @solecize @moonlss @ceruleanskies @tzuqui @jungjeffr3y @neo-shitty @o-schist

muse | and this is based on the song summer by calvin harris, long flight by taeyong, call out my name, earned it by The Weeknd, pillowtalk by zayn, love me harder by ariana grande. there are literary quotes from The Notebook by nicholas sparks and The Great Gatsby by fitzgerald.

“The cows didn’t deserve this sight. You look like a moving potato sack.”

That one familiar voice, laced with precise mirthful nuance immediately stops you from your attempted zumba dances. Your head automatically snaps towards the door where he is currently leaning at. Even without looking, you could see the tugging of his lips that belonged to your one and only grumpy roommate and unfortunately best friend, Doyoung.

This is one of your routines, dancing carelessly in front of your open windows, to entertain the cows from the farm your dormitory is located at. They make such a great audience though, unlike the people from university.

People who? You don’t know her.

You lean over the table to shut down the speaker that blasts electronic music.

The morbid greetings are never new to you anymore. In fact these greeting exchanges are normal, and an inside joke no one will understand but you and him.

Doyoung looks like he recently woke up from his grave. With a sullen face and eye bags that are too dark, it stands out amongst his pallorness. Being a pol-sci student surely makes the stunning Kim Doyoung a disaster.

He enters your room with coffee in hand and plops himself comfortably on the blue plush seats you two had managed to haul at the local thrift shop. This is Kim Doyoung with his disheveled morning look—his curly hair and baggy sweatpants but hail thee heavens, he still looks majestic and it’s unfair. He gulps a mouthful of his morning coffee. At this point you have made the conclusion that coffee is what kicks him in the morning, if not, daily.

You gawk at the tall boy before you, bracing yourself for his never ending list of snarky remarks —about you, your ridiculous pajamas, the cows which you don’t understand either, college, his debates, how emotional the girls are in his department and it pisses him off, how capitalism sucks, do soulmate exists? And if yes, it’s bullshit and what not. Nevertheless, you do understand his points since both of you share a deep seated bond and a like for misanthropy. Despite his ear-splitting and sometimes provocative rants, it had never failed to boost you. Albeit you hate early morning scolds, Kim Doyoung and his banters are an exception.

“Potato who? I am an exceptional dancer.” You grin while whipping your hair dramatically.

On cue, Doyoung’s eyes roll heavenwards. What a dramatic king. “How is that even possible?”

You shrug. “They moo-ed at me longer than their usual moo-s. Look!” You point at the brown cow staring back at you while nibbling grass.

Doyoung didn’t bother to peek at your window. Instead, he shakes his head in dismay while sipping again on his black coffee. “You need to seek help, you’re unbelievable.”

“Me and the cows just have a deep-seated relationship and they are far more supportive than your grumpy ass.”

Doyoung didn’t answer you. He shifts again in his seat, his long legs folding in an uncomfortable angle. Doyoung winces as he settles his mug on the table just adjacent from the plush seat. He gives you a concerned look, “Anyways, enough with the cows. How is your major going? You look dead.”

“So are you.”

“I’m stunning, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Bickering with him will be a waste of a time.

It's 8:30 am and truth be told, you are not ready to go to your university especially when the impending torment awaits for your arrival.

Your lips tug upward, an acrimonious smile painting your lips. If there’s something you want to talk about early in the morning, it would rather be about politics, rabbits, anything but your college department. The attempt in pulling an all-nighter yesterday night isn’t enough to lessen the never ending stack of paperwork your professors are demanding and talking about it would just fuel up your frustrations. “If the team won’t cooperate in the defense,” you sigh. “Summer.”

In an instant, Doyoung’s lips tugs into a shit-eating grin. Those smiles that hold such malice that shouts ‘you’re a worst case’. Being the sinister human being he is, he didn’t waste this opportunity to throw you his judgement. “For what I know college students should never be… negligent.” He drags out those words slowly like reciting to a child, making sure you do understand what the hell he is talking about and giving full emphasis on the last word that he said.

You immediately retort back, defensive. “I am! I mean… I am not!”

“I am not saying you are… but your groupmates.”

“They are…”

His feline eyes are as dark as his hair while he studies you. He’s feigning fake enthusiasm while raising his brows up cockily. “Yeah?”

You inwardly let out a whine. “Yeah. Now. Shut up Kim Doyoung.”

He chuckles. “What? I’m not saying anything!”

You huff. “After all this crap, I will seriously go out for a vacation,” you pause. “And I won’t tag you in, bitch!”

He rolls his eyes, “How despicable.”

“Seriously though, I don’t want to spend my time in university, it’ll kill the remaining sanity left in me.”

Overly confident, you want to smack the shit out of him. He shrugs. “I know. Good thing I’m an ace.”

You roll your eyes and throw your plushie towards his direction. But the devil incarnate has the deities on his side because the pillow didn’t budge nor hit him at all.

“Excuse me, mister right. Sorry to pop your bubble but remember? Your professor is still frustrated at the bull crap you pulled.” Your lips immediately tugging upwards upon the memory of him blabbing out incoherently to you like a child, intoxicated with alcohol while flunking classes. All of it because he’s, according to him, an ace.

“And what was that you were yelling at the corridors?” You try and recall the song he keeps on yelling in the top of his lungs while the people are shooting him dirty looks, “Young, dumb, young, young, dumb and bro-oh-ke…”

You wheeze while clutching your stomach. Good thing he got a nice voice, but still it was embarrassing. As if on cue, the stressed-out, disheveled Kim Doyoung wipes his face dramatically in humiliation. You’re both entertainers in your own ways, but he makes himself really stand out without him even trying.

If Kim Doyoung’s life is a movie, you’d literally spend your dollars to watch him over and over again.

“How’s your horse?” And you burst into fits of laughter.

A distressed groan escapes Doyoung’s lips upon the memory. “Can you please not?”

You shake your head no, still laughing upon the memory. He glares in your direction, his hawk-like eyes staring back at you with such vexation.

It’s a mistake for him to actually choose to drink rather than preparing for a major presentation that he messed up with big time. While drunk, he answered his professor’s inquiry with, ‘I don’t have a thing for voyeurism though, my horse is not down for it’. His professor is too infuriated at his answer and his laid back attitude, she gave him a big fat 60% mark as payback. What a damn ace, truly, ace of all clowns.

“I just hoped the case study could help me. I didn’t know that the case presentation was worth 60% of my grade!”

“You should join a pageant sometime.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Well, you’re famous as well as your answer. Imagine the school paper desperate just to have your comment published?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

His suggestive answer spreads out in the university like wildfire. If you could remember the quote, “Attention Ladies! Doyoung is quite reserved as his ‘horse’ is quite shy”, no public canoodling!

Doyoung is so furious when he sees the whole article, that he wants to sue the journalism club for defamation. But they immediately bribe him with a percentage, because the profits were surprisingly high because he’s featured in. Kim Doyoung is quite popular unlike you. He is a Pol-Sci student, and that made him proactive about social issues that you sometimes wanted to shut him out. He never stops talking about capitalism. And not to mention his fanbase— he has the looks, brain even if he barely uses it, and part of a famous sorority house. High number of admirers are really expected.

He makes a face. That’s what you get when you enter one of your classes intoxicated with gin and bullshit. Yolo, Kim Doyoung.

“Stop laughing,” he scowls.

Doyoung clears his throat and diverts the subject, “Have you tallied the responses?”

“Oh, shit.” You shift yourself in your bed. A ballpen strikes your ass and a ruler snaps in half the moment you tried to move again in your spot.

You wince. “I told Regina about it, and guess what?”

“Spill.”

“She fucking forgot about the methodology. I’m going insane!”

You stand up and grab the print-outs of your unfinished research paper. Doyoung brings the cup to his lips while watching you scurry back and forth in your room. You leave your room, only to return once again to gape at your best friend. The lack of sleep is taking a toll on you early in the morning, and all you want to do is to wrap yourself in your fuzzy blankets and binge watching Netflix. After all, it’s exciting to watch with the academic deadlines chasing after every episode you attempt to watch.

Your best friend’s lips instantly curl upward and you register that the words he’ll be spatting out will slap the shit out of you “You still have to interpret the results, though.”

“Bloody hell.” You groan loudly.

He grins smugly. “I really hope you won’t bawl your eyes out, but you still have a big nut to crack open.”

You were about to retort back but something had hit you. Your face painting an aghast expression, you cussed again, “Oh shit, the math homework?”

“Bingo.” His smirk widens at your stressed out face. “And the deadline is today.”

Why do you still have maths in your course? It’s ridiculous.

Despite him being annoying at all times, you are still happy that Doyoung is at your side. He is a blessing in disguise. He somewhat remembers all the things you have mentioned to him like homeworks and other things and makes fun of you because you‘re such a fucking goner. Having the habit of doing something at the drop of a hat then to procrastinate and cram it all out like a madwoman.

You manage to get through this bad habit of yours when your ex helped you back in the day. But now that he’s gone, all your mannerisms are flooding in like crazy.

You heave a long sigh of frustration. “Why, why, the hell did I choose to watch Riverdale instead of doing my maths?”

You stare at his dark orbs dancing with pure amusement.

He shrugs at your outbursts. “I have been telling you. You’re too distracted.”

You, per contra, immediately run to your bed and grab the nearest paper lying on the end with a bold ‘biochemistry’ printed on the topmost part of the paper. You toss the paper to Doyoung’s direction and continued on doing the searching operation of your long-lost math homework.

Doyoung clicks his tongue, finding the scowl on your face entertaining. “I just saw that paper! Now I can’t see it!”

You stomp your feet in annoyance.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. He knows exactly where this will go. He counts.

Three. Two. One.

You wail. “Kim Doyoung! I cannot find it!”

“You should learn to search using your fucking eyes! Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable,” he sighs, running his lithe hands through his raven locks. From the sound of his sigh, you know he’s tired of dealing with your constant bullshit.

“You have your eyes for a reason. For searching! Don’t use your mouth, Y/N,” he paused. Your homework is on the table.” Then he pointed at the coffee table.

“You’re lucky I’m being nice here. I’d rather hide that paper from you and watch you fail because you just lost a fucking piece of paper.”

You grimace, “You’re one hell of --”

You see how Doyoung’s face morphed in a whole 180 turn before the blink of your eye. From being calm to sinister. He mumbles, his tone so deep and malign. But you can hear him, “If you continue on. I will never, ever, help you with your essays. Carry on your GPA.”

What a hypocritical bitch.

Doyoung exactly knows how and where to push your buttons.

A whirlpool of emotions washes over you, and panic is the main cherry on top. It’s been an unspoken rule among both of you, that if ever who’s at rock bottom, the other half shall lift the rock no matter how heavy it is. And unfortunately, you're the rock and Doyoung has been helping you all through this time to somehow pass and manage your assignments. He’s been complaining how he is suffering from back pain due to carrying you all over the place.

You huff, clenching your fist to control the forming irritation in your gut, “For the sake of my peace, I wanna punch you. But yes, thank you, bitch.”

He mimics you, “Welcome bitch.”

Approaching his seat, you plop yourself comfortably on the floor. “Now how do I do this?”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side to cast a greater view of your paper and his face immediately scrunches. “Mean and deviation? I have taught you how to get them, right?”

You groan out. “I forgot.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Of course you forgot about it,” he curls his lips to a frown. “But remembering handsome boys, you ain’t slick… wait… what’s my name again?”

“Gross.”

He snatches the paper from your hold with a scowl and begins scribbling the answers. He mumbles loud enough for you to hear, “You weren’t like this when he was here. You’re too distracted.”

You frown upon the mention of your ex. Doyoung is right, you suck up big time when your ex left you to pursue his career.

Doyoung hands the paper back to you. Glancing at your homework, he had answered the first two numbers and the rest were blank. Your mouth presses into a thin line while attempting to answer the rest, following the solutions and steps of Doyoung from above.

He lifts the mug to his lips and gulps the remaining coffee. A vibration from his pocket catches his attention. Doyoung fishes for his mobile phone and his eyes almost bulge out upon the text he just received. The screen illuminates his slender face.

[from TY Track] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well.

Glancing from your peripheral vision; you know he must’ve received some dirty text again with the way his eyes bulge out of his sockets and a faint blush of pink that has been kissing his cheeks. You were not sure from whom though but it could be from the lists of girls in your mind that you’ve once texted out to ‘fuck off’ as per Kim Doyoung.

It happens daily and you are somewhat forced to answer them back because he’s been begging you to get rid of them. His ways of swatting the girls are really insurmountable. There is this time you thought he’s sending in dick pic (you almost threw a victory dance) but in reality he was just sending a picture of his beautiful middle finger followed by blocking or sometimes a ‘get lost, I don’t like you’.

You grin at the thought of Doyoung dirty texting but it’s borderline impossible. The amount of suitors is surprisingly high for a grumpy Kim Doyoung but he dismisses them all. You don’t know why he doesn’t open up opportunities for commitment, but it isn’t your business to mess with. After all, you couldn't blame them, his whole frat boy demeanor is really a lovely sight to look at.

His mouth opens then closes followed by his eyes widening like he couldn’t believe the sight at his screen. You let out an airy chuckle while computing for the mean. “You got yourself a fubu? Shall we call in Alpha chi Omega and celebrate?”

His brows automatically furrow while hiding his phone away from your sight, in defense. Your conclusions forming like endless swirls in your mind at the sight of him being so, aloof. You shoot out a grin.

“What the fuck? No!”

Your brows automatically shoot upward and you raise your hands still grinning widely. “Woah, chill, lover boy.”

Never in Doyoung’s life he plays cupid, because he thinks love is ridiculous. But he might as well play one for the sake of two broken hearts still yearning for each other. Doyoung knows he’s still not over you and you are still thinking about him even if you don’t admit.

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around.

Two months and two weeks prior to Taeyong’s homecoming.

Ragged breaths resonate around the boxing circle. The crowd is expectant, holding in their breath while watching the neck to neck fight.

Chan is lying on the floor, his chest rising heavily with every breath he takes. His coach is yelling profanities from the farthest corner, urging him to get his ass up and fight. He hears the muffled rambunctious screaming of the crowd and the loud EDM music blaring inside the gymnasium followed by the irritating ringing in his ears.

With Taeyong’s strike on his right ear, his balance fucks up and he can’t bring himself on his feet. Chan’s eyesight is getting worse, seeing occasional stars here and there. If it wasn’t for the gym’s blinding spotlight and camera flashes, he would really think that he got blind. Despite the large ring they are currently in, the atmosphere feels heavy, thick, and choking. The place stinks of cigarettes, sweat and blood. The floors were slightly wet with their perspiration. There’s overall tension, but violence is above it all.

Taeyong wipes the blood that spluttered from his mouth from Chan’s jab. He runs towards the corner where his team is at. Taeil immediately scrambles to his feet to get inside the ring to wipe off his sweat. Taeyong feels extreme exhaustion while staring back at Taeil under hooded eyes. He is running a tongue over his mouthpiece and rests his head on the ring’s metal post.

The referee enters the ring with a mic in hand then approaches the younger boxer. The referee pounds his fist onto the white mat, yelling numbers, “One!”

A pause. Then there is another pound. This time with much more force than the previous pound. “Two!”

Chan’s eyes flicker open at the countdown. His bruised eyes widening at the sound of his coach’s constant fire of profanities. Get up Bang Chan! Get the hell up! And so he did. Before the referee could shout the last number, three, Chan slightly jerks his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands then he tilts his torso to his right, raising up to his toes completely. Chan wobbles slightly while setting his posture up in full defense mode.

The referee makes a dash, excluding himself from the ring. Taeyong walks towards the center, his stance is set with his gloved hand raised up for defense. Chan’s appearance is rough. With blood covering most of his torso, there are occasional hues of yellow, purple and blue lingering on the younger boxer’s cheeks and eyes, one of his eyebrows split open blood pooling down mixing with his sweat, his plump lips is swollen and busted as if he had been stung by a bee.

Taeyong approaches the opponent carefully. Defense still high and not breaking eye contact. He knows how jumbled Chan is. Continuing on pushing himself further will just cause him harm— both mentally and physically. Due to Chan’s swollen right eye he can’t see Taeyong clearly. Throwing out jabs clumsily.

After contemplating for a few, Chan throws a counterpunch but Taeyong is quick enough to throw a combination that interrupts the younger mid-way. Chan musters his remaining strength to launch out a strike but Taeyong immediately dodges and springs forward to throw a blow on his jaw.

Chan can see spirals swimming in his vision that made him pause. With a disarranged mind, all he could do was to clinch on his opponent’s shoulder, breathing hard, bodies colliding with each other. The referee immediately steps in, breaking them apart. The crowd roars with both enthusiasm and dismay.

Taeyong made the final move, shooting his last blow on Chan’s stomach that made the young boxer fall with a loud thud. The crowd erupts with extreme exhilaration.

The emcee’s voice booms through the gymnasium’s speakers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen after twelve rounds of action we go to the scorecards. We have a unanimous decision in favor of the winner none other than boxing’s pride of Seoul, Lee Taeyong! The one and only, current WBA welterweight champion of the world! Lee ‘Kingpin’ Taeyong!”

Taeyong approaches Chan’s figure at the other side of the ring and gives him his warmest regards. Taeyong watches the intimate moment shared between the Aussie and his significant other. As sweet folks say, loving kisses can wipe out exhaustion. Touché.

Taeyong is sure that the younger boxer has potential and could make his boxing career stretch far with an obtained score of 116. Taeyong is in Chan’s situation once, losing then going home with a fucked up face. Everything is consuming— especially in boxing. Fatigue, face, dignity— but it is all about the commitment. It took Taeyong several eyebrow cuts just to achieve his current position. Before he was well-known as the Kingpin, he was once a loser. With high pressure, diamonds are formed.

Victory is so sweet. Yet the Kingpin still feels empty. He misses those moments when he was still a nobody; someone will run inside the gym just to pepper him kisses and him dodging cause he’s all sweaty. Or the steamy make out sessions usually in his Mustang after every class. The late night sex in his room. He wants to turn back time, he missed experiencing it all, everything. It hurts for him to admit but he missed someone that is dear to him. Someone that is his life. Those memories cease the moment he decided to choose this career, boxing. He thought, was it worth it? Is selecting boxing really did give him the utmost happiness? Was it worth exchanging you for this career? After his several attempts of questioning himself, Taeyong couldn’t still answer whether all of this makes him happy or it’s just complete bullshit.

His team jumps in the ring full of excitement. Taeil is showing him an ear to ear grin while wiping off his face. Taeyong winces as Taeil is too overwhelmed, vigorously wiping over his cuts. “Hyung, I’m not a car, stop wiping my face like a wiper.”

Taeil giggles. “Oh. Sorry.”

His manager approaches him, sliding the heavyweight gold belt over his shoulder. The manager leans over to whisper a strong ‘congratulations’. Taeyong nods back, unable to contain his glee. He grins at the crowd and pumps his fist in the air. The crowd are screaming for his name and his victory.

All hail, Kingpin.

“Taeyong.”

Taeyong’s eyes flicker shut. It’s only been five minutes since Taeyong submerged in the cylinder shaped chamber full of ice, but for him it feels like forever. The water stings and the cold is there, but it eats away the soreness nevertheless. Taeyong grits his teeth, fucking five minutes feels like eternity. He tries to divert his attention to anything but the stopwatch clipped on the cylinder’s edge.

A voice calls him again. Taeil. “Taeyong.”

The boxer breathes. “Yes. Hold on.”

The timer beeps. Taeil approaches the cylinder bath to snatch the beeping device.

Taeyong rises to his full height with the water swaying after him and the ice floating around the bath. Taeyong grips the edge and jumps out.

Taeil approaches him with a towel in hand. The boxer grabs the fluffy fabric and wraps it around his bare torso still shivering from the aftermath of his post-match routine. The soreness from the fight subdues. Taeyong holds the fabric to his head to towel dry his silver locks.

Taeil begins, “There’s something the manager will tell you.”

Taeyong shoots out a look towards him, his face immediately contorting into confusion. “About what?”

Taeil shrugs. He plops down to the bench and drops the athletic bag. The steel bench creaks as he rummages through the bag and throws a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a black tank top towards Taeyong.

The boxer grunts, snatching the clothes mid-air with his right hand. “Geez. You could’ve handed it to me, hyung.”

Taeil faces him and settles the bag. A tired sigh escapes his lips. “I’m not in favor of what he’s gonna say to you.”

Taeyong’s brow furrows. “Why? Wait, what is it about?”

Taeil leans back on the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the gung-ho McGregor aren’t you?”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he tries to recall the familiar name. Damn, Chan’s smack must’ve shaken his brain. “The suspended boxer?”

Taeil nods and crosses his arms. “He’s actually back and wants to hold a match with you.”

Taeyong fidgets on his spot awkwardly. Water droplets drip down his chest. It’s fucking cold. For heaven’s sake he’s just in his black boxers.

“Can I change first?”

Taeil shakes his head and holds a finger to shut him out. “This is an important matter, kid.”

Taeyong scowls. “It’s fucking cold!”

He stops bickering back upon the sight of Taeil’s glare. Taeyong sighs, “We rejected them, right?”

“Yes. But backstage, Alexis’s manager opened up the matter to the manager again.”

Taeyong’s brows knot. “I just got into a fight. Can you talk it out with the manager?”

Taeil grimaces. “You know how my words don’t have an effect on him.”

Taeil continues on, “Besides, you are never the alibi type. If there’s a fight, you fight. That is how they know you. So it won’t work, unless you got pregnant? But that’s borderline fucking impossible.”

Taeyong didn’t argue back since Taeil has a point. Alibis are not really favorable especially in the world of boxing, unless you’re at death's door.

Taeil continues. “McGregor’s team promised a percentage if you let him win.”

“What the fuck?” Absolutely never.

A knock disrupts the two. Taeil straightens himself while Taeyong readjusts the towel resting on his hair.

Manager Oh enters the room. The two male cannot read the gloomy look on the manager’s face as the atmosphere is quite tense.

The manager gulps and begins to speak. “I reckon Taeil has told you about the matter,” the manager pauses. “We’ll accept the deal. The fight will be pushed through.”

Taeyong’s ears piques as he begins to feel annoyed. “Without consulting me? If it wasn’t for Taeil hyung, I wouldn’t know.”

Manager Oh breaths. “They promised to sponsor everything for your UBT.” He halts again, trying to select the right words to cajole the boxer. “That’s your goal, right?”

The Universal Boxing Tournament is something elite, big, and wild. It isn’t just Taeyong’s goal but every boxer. The payments in the matches are double the fee he usually receives. Although the chance of fighting in the big event is at Taeyong’s palm, it left him in a state of deep conflict. He’s done being the sparring partner— or a punching bag of someone else. He’d establish himself and the idea of stooping down just for the benefit of others greatly dismays him.

Taeyong strokes his nape. “It is one of my goals— dream, even. But I’m not sure, manager. I’m done being a punching bag.”

Manager Oh rubs his eyes. “I know…it’s just that McGregor is coming back and having a match with you could guarantee popularity for him.”

Taeil shakes his head in dismay but he never utters a word.

The boxer is still unconvinced.

The manager sighs. “He’s cleared of steroid usage.”

Taeyong squints. “What if he does it again pre-match? Then that cancels the match, what about the UBT spot they’ve promised?”

“You don’t have to worry about that… we have a written contract.”

Taeil shakes his head in disappointment. This rash decision of the team is what they'll be regretting later especially when an informal agreement is raised up. It won’t guarantee a spot to a big fight that easily. It’s like chasing dust.

Taeyong inquires further. “When is this?”

“Next month. We'll grind to prepare you.”

Taeyong knows how sicko McGregor can be in the ring. He has seen some clips of his matches. But if it means being in UBT, he’ll go. “Alright.”

The manager stands up, brushing his pants. “We’ll move locations. I have a gym near the University you graduated from.”

The kingpin will return to the place where he started from rock bottom. It suddenly fills him with nostalgia. His two managers left the room for him to do his thing. Taeyong quickly grabs his phone and texted Doyoung, notifying him of his upcoming arrival.

[Compose Message to: doie] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well.

His phone screen illuminates his striking face as he waits for a reply. Taeyong settles his phone down on the counter to ruffle his hair but Doyoung already responded. His phone vibrates.

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around. The boys (and someone xD) will surely be glad to see you. Aja!

Taeyong grins. He’s excited to go home as well. A thought lingers on his mind, who’s the ‘someone’ Doyoung is referring to?

The sun is ebbing its way to daylight. It is the day of your defense or as Doyoung calls it doomsday or the Purge. Doyoung left you instructions on how to answer the panel smoothly without having the impression that you’re clueless.

He never spoon feeds you rather letting you do everything on your own. For this defense, he told you to shut up and not blab anything unless asked. And he adds, ‘answer straight to the point and don’t fucking sugarcoat’. Professors grill students until you could no longer retaliate, they are spawns of satan and you are so sure of that.

This defense is the most stressful thing you encounter in your whole college life. An abomination, breaking people apart. Recitations are an exception though as you could always adlib like the stunt Doyoung pulled in his major classes.

The moment you set foot on the university grounds, you hear the cacophony of deafening alarm bells, signalling the students of the start of the first period. You sigh. Despite having to practice the day before (and practically being scolded and grilled by Doyoung), you still can’t calm your nerves. Your face immediately scrunches at the thought of summer classes.

The sun is shining through the large oval in your university. Beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Swarm of boisterous students walked side by side. talking about the same exact thing that has been swimming in your mind lately-- summer. Alas, the whole semester of dread is coming to an end and you cannot longer wait to wear the pink leotard Doyoung jokingly bought you for your birthday. You head straight north passing by the department of physical education. You see the soccer players, in their mighty, flashy maroon uniforms, running over the field. You immediately recognize the familiar figure of Johnny and the way the curvature of his ass sticks out of his shorts. Not that you really enjoy ogling at his ass though but it ain’t just another ass. It's Johnny Seo’s ass, popular, might as well stare at the divine sight before he charges everyone for it. You know of the big guy since you’re living in a small world, he’s friends with your best friend and a good pal of your ex boyfriend. Everything around you will always connect with either Doyoung or your ex.

Johnny has a reputation like Doyoung though. But unlike your best friend being known as a snob, Johnny is known for his massive dick and palpable cockiness in bed. He senses your stare and cranes his neck around to face you. His teammates behind him huddle together to ogle at the female their captain is looking at. He smiles at your direction then waves at you enthusiastically from the field. Lips curl into a smile while giving him a wave. You hear rambunctious woos and boyish whistles from behind when you continue on walking towards your building. Boys.

The familiar mint green building is now in sight. You hug the folders close to your chest like it’s your armor while taking a sharp turn. It leads you down to the right wing but as soon as you are about to enter, a large signage of ‘use the main door’ blocks your way. Your annoyance reaches its peak level while shooting daggers at the locked door. You contemplate, if you were to make a dash for the main door that is a meter away from here, you’ll be late for the first period. And professors always makes the tardy students sing in front and never in your fucking life will do that.

A shout startles you in your place. “Son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you doing there? Go to your room, dumbass.” Talking about the smart shit that just arrives with his sharp voice lacing with its usual deep suave and timbre that pierces your eardrums early in the morning. His building is just right beside yours. So whether you like it or not, Doyoung will be in sight to annoy the shit out of you like he usually does.

You turn to him. Going to the canteen to eat is tempting but the thought of disappointing Kim Doyoung and his efforts going to waste bites you off. “I’m nervous.”

The female students are eyeing both of you— most are stinky glares from his fangirls. You take a sharp breath and hoist up the strap of your bag properly.

“Just remember what I’ve told you. And don’t abash yourself.” He ruffles your locks and you immediately swat his arm away. The squeals of the girls from behind obliterates both of your gossamer thin patience and remaining one brain cell. Needless to say, you walk up the pathway towards the main door of your building.

The thick choking atmosphere welcomes you. The happy color of mint green from its interior doesn’t conceal the melancholy of the people inside. You hear an upcoming call of your name, but you couldn’t apprehend it clearly because of the continuous murmurs in the hallway. “Y/N!”

You let out a groan of abhorrence as you whip your body around upon the call. But there isn’t a familiar face to chit chat with so you proceed forward but the wind knocked out of your lungs when you were suddenly yanked from behind.

You are about to throw profanities when Dia’s face comes to view greeting you sweetly, “Hi, Y/N!”

You attempt to smile but it looks like you’re suffering with constipation with all your teeth gritted together, “Hey!”

Dia begins. “I can’t wait for the sem to end!” She beams enthusiastically while clinging onto your arms. You struggle to climb the stairs with her hips hitting you sideways.

“Me too.” You exhale while gathering your thoughts. Your minds a mess with the conclusion, summer outfit and the swarm of murmurs of the students in the stairwell. “I plan on getting a tan though or skinny dripping, I don’t know.”

“Oh my! Yes!” she laughs while tugging her lips out almost lost in thought. “Alpha chi Omega is actually planning on a homecoming party.” She smiles cheekily that is way familiar for you. You immediately grin at her being such a saccharine babe.

You raise your brows. “Who’s coming home?”

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

You frown while lost in thought . “Then how did you know about it?”

Dia waggles her eyebrows, a mischievous glint lighting in her eyes. “Of course. I keep tabs on the packing king, Johnny Seo.”

You grimace. “Huh? Packing? Where is Johnny going? I thought it’s a homecoming?”

Dia rolls her eyes heavenwards. You are being so impossible. “Packing as in walking around with a huge dick. My god, are you from the 90s?”

“I’m not. I just don’t go around ogling at... what you call him? Packing Prince.” You make a puking face.

Dia laughs while you mumble under your breath, “You are unbelievable.”

She clicks her tongue and leans in while shushing the words near your year, “I’m not though… hey you wanna know what’s unbelievable?”

It piques your attention, “What?”

“Johnny has the bomb-est ass ever. Like a hundred over ten, would recommend.”

You retreat back and scowl. She laughs at your impending disappointment. But she’s right though, in fact you saw a sight of Johnny’s ass early in the morning. Bomb it is. You shake your head, but a smile is tugging your lips upright, “Whatever you say so.”

Dia is still laughing, spreading positivity in the already sullen hallway in the ground floor. It didn’t last long as you both part ways upon the sight of room 402. You huff, trying to recollect your breath. Stairways will be the cause of your death. Your classmates are either feigning optimism or just dead tired. A voice booms out, alerting the class. You glance and see the person behind the said misery.

“Groups one, kindly present in front. Get ready groups three and five. Say hi to the panel of judges.”

“What in the fucking world?”

“You should have seen it coming.”

“The biggest bugbear of my life is spending summer in university instead of the beach!”

Doyoung gives you a nonchalant look. He immediately pays a visit to your building upon hearing your never-ending cusses at the call a while ago. He stands by the door of your room while his arms are crossed.

He begins, “At least you’re alive, though.”

Doyoung’s lips curling into a mischievous smirk. He cannot hide the fact that he’s impressed that you didn’t undergo a breakdown unlike your classmates and your control towards unyielding resilience.

“I’m not close to being alive. I am deteriorating!” You groan making sure to imbue your tone to complete sarcasm. You thought that the research defense is the endpoint of the semester, but it wasn’t since the professors have something bigger to offer-- more diabolical. The dean of your college disseminates the mandatory summer classes on all year levels to avoid the crashing of major subjects with organization stuff and to somehow lessen the unit overload. The idea is beneficial albeit disheartening especially for those students who already had plans for the summer like you. What a sweet summer in the university. You shoot him out a look, “How are you alive? Despite all of this?”

“Heavy workload and org stuff is the thing that haunts every student. My professor has consulted me about this matter beforehand,” he grabs his phone and glances at it. His chinky eyes widen and he clears his throat. “We’ll be pushing the brave run next sem.”

“Is that the annual event of your sorority that you’ll be running around in the campus, naked?”

Doyoung hisses. “Shut up. It should be kept a secret,” he shrugs. “But, yes.”

Another fact why his sorority is famous among the female students of the university. The brave run is an annual event held by his sorority, which symbolizes "a selfless offering of one's self to the people of the country.’ Running around naked with a mask to conceal their identities. And it’s going to be Doyoung’s first run. He fidgets in his spot while looking at you then at his phone. You cast him a doubtful look, “Do you need some privacy or whatever?”

He looks straight from your shoulder. “No, no. Stay put.”

“I wanna sit. I was standing for hours in front a while ago.”

Doyoung presses his lips in a thin line. He lamely mutters. “I will show you something.” He keeps on fidgeting in his place while glancing sideways. It deeply concerns you because he’ll look at his phone then will grin afterwards. Doyoung never grins. What in the world?

He certainly knows something that you’re completely oblivious about. His phone buzzes again.

[from TY Track] [1:15] I thought your building is white one? How come you’re in a green one? You have a girlfriend from the nursing department don’t you? Ayeeeeeeeee. [1:19] im at the third floor lobby,, where are you?? I’m starving!!

Doyoung is on the fourth floor. Currently playing cupid.

He gives you a look with a shit-eating grin lingering on his slender face. Not that he looks unpleasant to the eyes since he’s far away from it but rather handsome. But it greatly aggravates you because since that one message he received this morning, he just won’t knock it off with the annoying grin of his. You really need to know who the hell is responsible for his change of demeanor.

Doyoung is the most misanthropic person you know and he always frowns. Unless he’s with his male friends or with you. Let he’ll freeze first then you’ll see him smile to his ears. He holds a finger near your face, “Wait here.”

You swat his wrist away but before you could knock him off, he’s already marching down the hall.

“Kim Doyoung! Wait!”

You let out an exasperated sigh while playing with your lace to kill out boredom. Dia whistles to capture your attention. You return back inside your room to fix your things and to entertain the sulky Dia. She pouts, “I’m seriously starving! Let’s go to def!”

Def is the university’s cafeteria where both you and the guy who made your heart pound, met.

“Okay hold on. Let me sign the attendance sheet for a while.” You approach the class secretary seated in front. Your back is against the door and a familiar figure looms near the door frame—looking lost.

You’re playing in a full deck. Unaware of the guy who’s once your life, standing behind you.

Taeyong and his team leaves Busan early at four in the morning with the yellow and pink hue of the sky slowly creeping along its way eating out the velvety dark skies. Taeyong drags his feet heavily against the grey pavement with his athletic bag hoisted on his shoulders. The early morning wind gives a chill blow that prickles the skin of the boxer.

Taeil is walking behind him with his daily black coffee in hand and face sullen due to drowsiness. The team is moving at a fast pace and occasional long sighs are heard. Taeyong gawks at the team moving dumbbells, mats, gloves and belts in their black van.

“Does your sorority know you’re coming home?”

Taeyong stares at his manager. His lips tugging upwards. “Yes. I’ve texted one of my friends and suddenly they’re throwing a homecoming party for me.” Taeyong’s chest vibrates with laughter.

Taeil’s lips tugs upward in mischief as he knocks the hood of the van breaking the deafening silence of the early morning. The team immediately scramble inside the van like ants fighting off with seats, dirty banters and shades being thrown against each other.

“I’ll sit here!” “It’s cold in that spot, I didn’t take a bath!” Another spits. “The handsomest is gonna seat beside the Kingpin.” Another voice holler. “Oi. Oi. No!”

The manager let out a tired sigh while adjusting the shoulder bag on his right shoulder. He reaches for his back pocket and wipes the droplets of sweats on his temple. “Let’s go, before these guys kill themselves.”

He calls out with a stern tone rolling out of his tongue it immediately calms the chaotic boys, sheepishly fixing themselves while uttering incoherent apologies. They begin filling up with the manager taking the empty spot beside the driver’s seat. The rest scatter themselves on the spots they deem as comfortable.

Taeil shoots Taeyong a knowing look and juts his head towards the empty seat beside him near the driver’s seat. Taeil reclines his back on the leathered seats and heaves a long tired sigh. “It’s good to be back. I wish they were preparing roses for your comeback. It felt like Disney, like for shits really.”

Taeyong grins. “Doyoung and Johnny told me about it. Alpha is scrambling like ants.”

Taeil’s voice lowers for a second. His thoughts are swimming in an endless swirl of abyss. “Fighting with McGregor could cause you collateral damage.”

The boxer rests his hand on his nape and closes his eyes for a moment. He knows. He whispers, “I know. May the odds play with my side.”

“This is not about the odds now, he could destroy you, I’m serious!” Taeil scoffs while scanning the view of the early and still asleep city of Busan. “Namjoon fought with him once, and the boy went home with broken ribs and hand fractures,” he trails. “It’s still early to back out. I’m really worried.”

“I am already destroyed, hyung. Ever since I chose this over engineering and leaving like I could really live through all of this…”

“Hyung, if I back out… all of these would just be a whole damned joke.”

“Please…don’t take McGregor easily.”

Taeyong attempts to dismiss the growing anxiety in his chest. One step at a time. One punch at a time, one round at a time. He sets a self mantra. “I won’t.”

The heavy traffic greets them the moment they make their way to the city arriving exactly at twelve. Upon arrival, the team immediately unloads their baggage on the gym’s connected apartment while the manager nurses several calls about the match with the upcoming weigh in, face off, and budgets.

Taeyong glances at the gym’s interior. It's a rundown one with a large ring in the center, barbell and dumbbells on the floor and a large mirror from across where he is standing. The lights flicker above him, casting a warm glow of yellow on his face. Taeil squeezes his shoulder, surprised at how he’s so rigid. Taeil begins, “Johnny gave me a call and he said that you should get your flat ass in the university.”

Taeyong throws his head back, mortified. “What? Okay, fat ass.”

Taeil rolls his eyes. “My ass is bomb.”

Taeyong raises his brows. “Squatting?”

“Yeah. Every night, wanna see?”

“I have my own ass.”

“Yeah…a flat one, unfortunately.”

Taeyong grimaces. “My ass is ‘bomb’ too.”

“Keep on dreaming flat ass.”

“Don’t be rude!”

The familiar name of the university greets Taeyong the moment he arrives. Doyoung notifies him of his whereabouts; in the medical department. Taeyong furrows his brows, just when did Doyoung shift his course? He said he’d die being a polsci student.

Taeyong carries himself towards the familiar sidewalk of this university where he graduated highschool and was supposed to study engineering at.

However his fate makes a whole turn when he’s casted by an agent when he’s buying bread from the downtown pancake house. And it all just happens just like that, him leaving all of a sudden, ending everything at his loved one’s disposal.

His boxer facade falters as soon as he steps foot on the familiar grounds. With him here, he isn’t the Kingpin rather just the ordinary Lee Taeyong. He moves agilely, a thing he learned in boxing. His skin shimmers under the hot glimmering sun with his perspiration glistening against his forearms. Taeyong’s doe eyes scans the tall college buildings, looking precisely for a ‘tall building that is colored green with a bunch of people wearing white uniforms’ as per Kim Doyoung.

A thought erupts in him, it’s been years since his last visit here. Everything before his eyes is entirely unknown for him. He spends a good minute searching for the building while running a hand over his silver locks that are haphazardly tousled in different directions.

He ignores the flirtatious call of the students. The girls let out exhilarating squeals when he asks about the building and points behind him. Just as he’s about to go, someone yanks his arm dragging him away towards the opposite direction that planted a frown upon his face. He tries to dismiss them as kindly as he could when he sees that there is no way that they’ll be letting him go especially when he looks like a hot mess.

There’s actually no use in flirting anymore as he’s still emotionally invested for one girl that is you.

His eyes trail over the unfamiliar building and contemplate for a good minute before entering. The aura of the place elicits the same vibe in the boxing gym of his manager, bright by nature but something elicits off-ness more on sombre.

His long legs easily climb the series of stairs until he reaches level three and glances around the place. Searching for the familiar figure of Kim Doyoung but he finds nothing even a silhouette of the boy. He fishes out for his phone to send him a text, the mobile vibrating after his taps.

[from doie] [1:17] we’ll eat later!!!1 i need to show you someone oops something11!! :D [1:18] i'm coming!!! hold on!! Waaait

Taeyong hears rapid footsteps then a high pitch call of his name. A sudden tackle takes him by surprise. “I missed you, hyung!”

Doyoung holds him at shoulder, his eyes examining his whole body. “You've grown so well and— damn.”

The boxer standing before him is drastically different from the person he last saw two years ago. He’s not as fit rather skinny but the way he puts it now he’s got a massive glow up that takes him by surprise. With Taeyong by growing inches, his skinny fit that is now lean that is packed with muscles due to the strenuous training he’s put into and the eye catching tattoos that're lingering on his arms. He smirks at the sight of your familiar face minimalistically tattooed on his forearm.

He inwardly chuckles. Fools.

Doyoung didn’t waste the fraction of his time and drags a protesting Taeyong all the way at level four. Taeyong throws a questionable look, “What are we here for? Is Donghyuck in Nursing? Wait… are we here for him?”

“You’ll see… and no, let the moon be green first then we’ll see him here.”

“Oh.”

A chill runs down Taeyong’s spine. The heavy traffic they went through made him thirsty to the bone—now he wanted to drain his bladder. He calls out while eyeing the figure ahead of him, “Doyoung?”

Doyoung answers him with a shit-eating grin that made Taeyong think to himself. Is Doyoung in love at the moment? “Yeah?”

“I need to pee. The traffic sucks, I had to drink to keep myself entertained.”

He hums, not processing every word Taeyong says. He calculates everything in his disposal. From his distance, he can see your back facing the door where he’ll lead Taeyong into. Thus, hitting two lovefools.

“Fancy. Go over to that room.” Taeyong glances at the room Doyoung is pointing at. He didn’t question the boy further because his bladder is asking for a fucking break. He slowly approaches the room while lost in his thoughts. He leans on the doorframe and asks where the lavatory is. Then, immediately jogs down the corridor without a word.

Doyoung stands there, expectant and all smiley. Until he sees a different face entertaining Taeyong and your figure marching away with your friend, Dia. Doyoung attempts to call for your attention but you’re already out of earshot. He clicks his tongue in irritation. Cupid fails.

You sluggishly drag your feet inside your room. Doyoung is nowhere to be found until you hear muffled singing so you reckon he’s in the shower doing his thing. You press your lips into a thin line while casting a look around your ransacked room that has been untouched for months. It may be the course of adrenaline pushing and so you cleaned.

Doyoung walks around the shared place without a top that isn’t a sight that makes you utterly surprised anymore. You both share collective memories together, all deep and humiliation. So seeing him in his boxers early in the morning isn’t disturbing anymore. You do though, when he smiles.

Doyoung squints, eyeing your figure going from one part of your room to another. He knows you don’t have plans on throwing yourself into the inviting city to lash out your stress from the months you have spent in university but rather dancing. Unbeknownst to you, he’s planning something to stop you from doing your ridiculous dances in front of the farm animals sparing them the ridiculous sight after all he’s an animal rights advocate.

Tonight is the homecoming party for Taeyong that surprisingly spreads out in the university like a wildfire. It will be damn-ed as the probability of both of you meeting might not be high due to the flood of party-goers rushing for the free alcohol and the said sorority and because of your lazy ass. Doyoung dons his blank tank top and ruffles the damp mop of raven locks above his head.

You glance from your door and see your best friend have an absolute glow up like he doesn’t look dead just from days ago. There’s no doubt that Doyoung has his own ravishing features-- his scar, tall nose, pink lips, and the over-all enticing eyes that elicits a mysterious aura.

“Where are you going?”

Instead of answering your inquiry he taps furiously on his phone. You can sense the infuriating spark that glowers on the boy. He finally looks up at you. “There’s a party in Alpha.”

“You’ll be staying there?”

He coos. The hidden sneer you can hear that rolls out of his tongue with great clarity that immediately brings your eyes heavenwards. “Why? You’ll miss me?”

“As if.”

“I will be staying there. You should go, though?” Doyoung absolutely knows how such a party pooper you were that you’d rather stay home than mingling in a random college party or whatever social gatherings. Your reason? The signature ‘I hate going out, Kim Doyoung’.

It is part of the practice of his sorority to give out roses to a homecoming member, as significant as a welcoming gift and roses have a deep meaning for the frat. He volunteers to bring the roses for Taeyong since he has a cupid business to attend. He purposely left the roses in his room for you to bring your lazy ass in the sorority house and deliver the parcel to Taeyong. He grins at the thought.

You grunt loudly, generally having no qualms on concealing your obvious irritation. “Why do you keep on grinning? It scares me.”

Doyoung raises a brow then chuckles afterwards. “I’m just happy that I will finally get laid after these past months of hellish semester,” he trails off and gives you a knowing look. “Bye!”

It got you off guard. Kim Doyoung getting laid?

He beams at your surprised face. “I will be late. The alumni might be there anytime soon.”

“Who is the alumni?” This has been the talk of the town next to the homecoming party. You have no idea who it is despite your best friend being in on the said sorority.

Doyoung runs his hands over his hair again and gives you a lopsided smile. “Secret.”

He makes a dash for the door leaving you hanging and hungry for answers. Knowing him, he’ll never spill no matter how you squeeze him into doing so. It frustrates you as curiosity is getting the best of you.

Doyoung didn't bother to spill the person because for all he knows you’ll be meeting him anytime soon. It’s Lee Taeyong.

It's eight in the evening and surprisingly you were being productive at bare minimum. You try to uplift your mood by beautifying your room to look like it’s been owned by a lady not some random drunktard. After cleaning, you prepare dinner but the constant ringing of your phone disturbs you mid-way. You didn’t spare the called ID a glance for you know who the call is from.

You snarl. “What?”

The chaotic music in his background is making it hard for you to comprehend what the hell he was trying to convey. His voice lowers two tones down his usual. “Hey, can you bring the roses here? I forgot to bring it with me.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “And why should I do that?”

Doyoung on the other hand is trying to rake up his brain for possible things to coax you to bring your ass and the roses in the party. The alcohol might be taking a toll on him but it’s helping him to think of an easy plan to bring you here without any questions arising from your mouth. “I’ll treat you to dinner.” And just like that.

You let your pride be damned. A free dinner is always a key to do favors. You huff. “Where is it placed?”

Doyoung immediately grins. “At my room, on the plush chair by the window.”

You cannot decipher how complicated your best friend is sometimes. It aggravates you. He never forgets his things and you think that he is doing this on purpose just to make you walk out of the shared apartment. But whatever his intentions are, the free dinner he coaxed you with is promising. You walk inside his room and the sight of his perfectly tucked bed welcomes you, the bundle of crimson red roses sits by the grey chair just beside his window. You didn’t know much of his sorority’s practice nor the significance of the rose, but you chose not to further question the frat’s motive behind it as the free food is your topmost concern.

You scramble out of Doyoung’s room to fix your dishevelled appearance. You grab the blue summer dress on your bed and thrash in an oversized cardigan to spice out the look then you pumped some gloss and ran a blusher on your cheeks.

Damn the man who spoils your plans on binge watching Netflix. Damn Kim Doyoung. And damn you for biting on his bait.

You made a beeline for the door, your phone in hand and the roses in the other.

It’s gonna be a long and young night.

For a summer night, the wind is surprisingly chilly and not humid. The night sky is clear with the stars twinkling brightly along the perfectly arched moon. The walk to Alpha chi omega’s house is not that long by car but unfortunately, the university carpool is not available and so here you were walking to the farthest side of the university.

It doesn’t take you long to locate the house out of all the similar frat houses lined up together like building blocks. The house that belongs to the hosting sorority is booming out loud with obnoxious music and the notable crowd of wasted college students going in and out of the main door. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol. The sight of red cups litters the front yard and the large ‘homecoming’ banner is perched up the front porch of the frat house. You feel out of place just by standing out there awkwardly with a bouquet of roses in hand while mentally cursing out and throwing imaginary daggers on Kim Doyoung. If it wasn’t for the free food, you would never be here.

A familiar ass caught your attention but it isn’t Johnny’s but Mark Lee’s. A sophomore and a civil engineer major that you bump into occasionally because of Doyoung. You approach his figure and his dishevelled state really caught you off-guard. He’s standing in his overall glory; with black tee that clings onto his lean torso and grey sweatpants. His high cheekbones stand out and his cheeks are slightly flushed due to two reasons you are sure of, alcohol and the cramped crowd inside.

You clear your throat as you attempt to voice out your concern however it comes out as a mere squeak. “Do you know where Doyoung is?”

Mark gives you a knowing smile while giving you directions on Doyoungs whereabouts. There’s something off about Mark’s sly smile. Confusion undulates on your soft features which made the younger grin even more.

Another sophomore jumps into the picture. He sends Mark reeling on his position but the younger boy shoots up a grin as an answer to Mark’s scowl. His tan skin glows under the poor lighting on the front porch of their sorority house and he looks beautiful nevertheless. Haechan brings the red cup to his plush lips, his throat bobbing down with every gulp of the beverage. He breaths while giving you a mischievous grin. “Well, someone’s about to cross paths with someone.” He makes sure to give emphasis on the word someone while grinning up to Mark.

You raise your brows. “Yes… Doyoung.”

Haechan clicks his tongue. “May the odds be with you, y/n.” They continue on gulping their drinks and leaving you questioning what the hell are they trying to imply. It seems like they are trying to point out someone is about to meet you but you weren’t sure who?

Making sure you were out of earshot, the two boys fished out for their phones. Typing in the same text flying into their minds.

‘She’s in, make sure Taeyong is in the damn kitchen.’

They know. Except for you and Taeyong. Talk about thrill.

You stalk away and enter the house. Irritation bubbles inside your system like a brook. It feels as if everyone knows something that you should be aware of. No matter how hard you try to think of a person who you can possibly meet in here, there’s none in mind. You try to wipe it away by mentally taking a note that what you are doing is a commission; a full course meal paid by Kim Doyoung.

The sight inside of the house is quite a scene; a wild scene to be exact. Typical. Bodies are grinding each other by the beat of the hired DJ, sweat and alcohol as well as humidity. You squeeze yourself through the crowd of wild college students. Some sort of liquid splashes your skin but you paid no attention to it.

This is why you hate going out. The only time you have been dragged into a party is with Taeyong. No, it wasn’t obnoxious but rather magical. Anything done with Taeyong is always spectacular, he makes all the mundane things dull to extra.

That was during the last years of highschool when he asked if you could go with him to this frat party and you obliged. It was also in the same setting of a summer night, young and chill. Deja vu.

Taeyong holds onto your hips that night while he glowed perfectly underneath the pale moonlight. The dusk may have taken its way that time but you can still remember how bright he glows like a crazed halo. Maybe the reason why you can still find your way to the outskirts of the university where the sorority houses are found is because he already brought you here. And everything, every memory you have shared with him is always indelible.

You can remember a quote from Fitzgerald. ‘So we beat on boats against the currents, borne back ceaselessly into the past’. You find yourself spacing out remembering how his soft lips brushes against your pinna, whispering words that replays over and over and over again. Both of your bodies stayed close, swaying with the melodic beat that the speakers blasted up. It was always Taeyong, his scar, his lips, his eyes that are always so alive. It was always him, always.

Taeyong leaned over saying the words that no man you tried dated ever uttered to you. “You are my sweetest feeling that I know.”

You beamed up to him. “I think my soul is in love with yours.”

And you will always be. And nostalgia hits. You miss Taeyong. He has so much space filled inside your heart.

You finally squeeze yourself past the hungry and wasted crowd and head towards the kitchen where Mark instructed you to go. You narrow your eyes searching for the familiar figure of your bestfriend but he wasn’t there, not even a trace of his silhouette.

The kitchen is bustling with alcohol. Piles of beer cans, half empty bottles of wine and few bottles of soft drinks dominated the sleek black granite countertop. You walk near the kitchen island where several drinks are offered placed haphazardly allowing the people to nurse their own drinks. You had your back facing the opposite hall that leads to the dining area while clutching the roses for your dear life.

Taeyong is leaning against the wall facing the dining area where his highschool friends are currently at. The rose ceremony was delayed because of Doyoung and so he busied himself by trying to catch up with his old friends.

“How’s life so far, Taeyong?”

Taeyong smiles, he’s always as fresh as raindrops. “Usual.”

They laugh. “How ‘usual’ is usual though?”

Taeyong thought to himself. It is bland, empty and he always finds himself staring past the mirror trying to remember how your face looks like since the last glance he had was exactly two years ago. He shrugs his shoulders and lifts the red cup to his lips. The alcohol rakes his throat, foreign. “A couple of punches here, training there, matches here, and rings over there. Usual.”

They continue on carrying their own conversation on which Taeyong lost interest. He just stares, his mind traveling and wandering. A high pitched screech alerts him, he immediately settles the cup down, the contents splashing over the dinner table. A woman is on her knees, clutching her lips with her hands.

Taeyong immediately crouches down. “Hey, are you okay?”

She slurs and Taeyong tries to comprehend what she is trying to convey. “Wuh-teeeeer…”

“Huh?”

“Wuuuuh-teeer…”

Water.

He immediately assists the girl to the kitchen sink. Dragging her slumped body slowly towards the kitchen floor. He tries to call out someone in hopes to help him with the inconvenience. But the kitchen is surprisingly empty.

It’s a plan to have two souls meet together in one. But fate must’ve fucked up the plans of the brotherhood. For the one soul is mending a random wasted college girl and the other one is fuming in anger.

You storm out of the kitchen when you are about to brandish a cocktail while waiting for Doyoung. Someone approaches you, pouring a beer into a red plastic cup.

“All right, babe, you’re free tonight?” He nods, concentrating on getting his foam right while looking at you intently. You didn’t know who this guy was, but bold of him to be so overly confident. Pity he was a massive stoner from the looks of his red eyes. And he’s not, never, your type.

“I’m not interested.”

His eyebrows went all sarky. “Why, you got a date?”

You face him entirely. “Look. I told you I’m not interested so don’t get too overly friendly and get the hell out of my face.”

He settles his cup on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning over to you, clearly invading your personal space. “Why should I do that?”

You wrinkle your nose at the smell of his breath. “God. I’m out of here.”

You let your feet drag you away from the party.

Oblivious to the failure, the other members of the sorority gather themselves around the front porch obnoxiously betting to one another. They have this one picture in mind, a painting of Michaelangelo, the creation of David. Where two fingers connect. Little did they know. There isn’t a meeting that happened in the first place.

“I bet my ass, those two have already met!” Hyuck yells. “Homeboy must’ve scored!”

And they all holler at once. Then, they hear someone clearing their throat.

“Goodbye. I’m heading home.”

The boy’s eyes widens at the sight of you at the door, fuming. Doyoung is at the end of the staircase, examining you. He inquires, “Did you meet someone?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, you,” you approach him and hand the roses. “Someone must’ve been so drunk he directed me to the kitchen when you are actually here.” You shoot Mark a look as soon as you finish your sentence and he answers with a sheepish grin.

You turn to Doyoung, “Treat me to a nice dinner tomorrow.”

It’s confusing for him. “Wait… you really didn’t meet someone? Why are you leaving so sudden?”

The boys quiet down suddenly, all confused with the matter.

“Oh, I did meet someone.”

“Yeah?” Sparks of excitement ignited inside Doyoung's chest.

“Yeah…” you sigh. “A fucktard to be exact.”

Doyoung’s brows furrow for a moment then realization hits him. There’s never an encounter that happened like he initially expected to. The roses didn’t reach Taeyong. And you were also mad which is uncommon. You clear your throat again, “I will head home.”

You lightly smack Doyoung cheeks and head off.

“No way Taeyong is…a fucktard though?”

“Man, go home you’re drunk.”

“I heard my name.” All heads whip towards the direction of the voice. Taeyong.

A confused silence filled their friend circle before Mark interrupted mid-way, “No way Ty....”

They all groan in disappointment. The roses shenanigans didn’t work.

Johnny slurs. “Maaaaaan, if someone didn’t get a shot. I’ll be getting my own shot.” And he stumbles on his own feet and lands on Mark and accidentally kisses him on the lips.

Mark immediately pushes the taller guy away from him. A scowl paints his face while wiping his lips furiously. “Maaaan, what the fuck are youu doin’ maaan?”

Johnny yells, “No homo, bro!” And continues on peppering the protesting Mark with kisses.

Sunday arrives faster than you have expected it to be. The professors were much more considerate with the classes and decided to have an interval for each class so it’ll be less of a burden for the students. After the party from Doyoung’s sorority everything seems to be a cultural reset from partying to lessons real quick. This is college and you are really accustomed to it.

You ponder, there is just something—sort of difference in the air surrounding you and Doyoung—something like he’s been plotting something so evil or mischievous and it kneads in your chest that you’re the prey. Or whatever that is.

He doesn’t say a word when you drag him to a restaurant of your choice but you are pretty much sure that deep inside he’s cursing you with all his might. You try to annoy him, testing his patience yet he answers you with a forced smile. But the way his eyes spark with such animosity is enough evidence to show how infuriated he is that he needs to pay for your dinner. And too bad for him, you have a big appetite.

“What do you fancy eating today? Stir fried rice, or,” he stares dumbfoundedly at the large menu while scratching the back of his head. He mumbles incoherently, “I will just go with the black bean noodles.”

Doyoung’s body turns around towards your direction, “What do you want?”

You state all of your orders and you can clearly see the way Doyoung’s face grimaces. The cashier jots down the orders and Doyoung pays the bill with a pained expression ebbing his face. It was beyond entertaining when he was clutching the bill so tightly, the cashier had to muster such great effort to pull away the bill out of his iron grip. It was his fault anyways; he’s being such an idiot.

“How’s your major?” you beam while mixing the fried rice. The mouth-watering sight in front of you made your stomach turn somersaults. Has it been months since you have eaten legit food? You didn’t know but right now you just want to stuff yourself up. Free food is always much more tastier than those that you pay for.

“I’m taking up three units for fundamentals of political science,” he blows up the searing hot noodles and slurps it all. Doyoung’s cheeks puffs as he chomps loudly on his food.

There’s a deafening silence between both of you. Minding your own businesses until Doyoung’s phone rings obnoxiously, disturbing each other’s peace. He picks up the vibrating phone with his lithe fingers and scowls at the caller ID, “What?”

You stare at him in silence. Still devouring the freshly served food on the table. Doyoung dramatically settles his phone on the table. An expression of agony painting his slender face. You ask, “What?”

He never tries to conceal the words he just spatted. Making you wanna hide away in embarrassment as the other customers shot you both dirty looks. “I want to poop.”

It’s taking a whole lot of effort for you to not headbutt the raven haired boy that is sheepishly grinning at you. You really do. The straightforwardness of Kim Doyoung can be excruciating for the people around him and you are not an exception.

You grit your teeth, “Then go! I don’t have the loo with me! Jesus Christ!”

He raises his brows and settles his chopsticks on the table. He clutches his chest. “After the good deed I have done to you, this is what you are gonna pay me back? You’re heartless.”

Alright, the weight of his statement has hit you straight to the gut. You try with plenty of effort not to shoot him a leer. You clear your throat and push away the growing impatience as you hoist your bag to your shoulders ready to get something for him. With the conscience card that he has recently pulled, you know he wants you to get him something. “What do you want?”

He smiles and uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height emitting this smug superiority. “Gatorade.”

You squint your eyes and muster the deadliest death glare you can throw towards him. “You’re lying like… what is the gatorade for? You’re clearly making me pay you in return!”

He frowns at your claim. “I’m dehydrated. I chugged down plenty of beer, do you think that’ll make my stomach happy? Do you want me to fart on you to further support my claim?”

You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You’re gross.”

“I’m just trying to support my claim.”

“How? By broadcasting your physical state?”

He tries to open his mouth for another retort yet you immediately wave your hands in defeat. Bickering with him is like talking to a smart wall. He will try to twist everything until you want to give up, like practically shoving your head underwater. And the fact that he’s a political science student, of course arguing is one of his best specialties.

You left as soon as both of you finished your meals. You rake up your brain of possible stores that sell Gatorade and the first thing that has popped into your mind was the convenience store on the east avenue that used to be you and Taeyong’s favorite spot. The memories flood your brain.

“What does it taste like?” Taeyong asks, his brown orbs staring at you with such longing.

“Sweet.”

He raises his brows, “Oh?”

“Yeah, have a taste,” you offer him the sponge cake you’ve been munching a while ago. You extend your arm in his direction and scroll absently on your phone. Before you can even complain about why it is taking him a long time to have a taste, his lips are already smashed against yours.

Goosebumps immediately rises up to its wake upon the feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours. This is your favorite feeling, something that only Taeyong can do to you. His tongue grazes your lower lip in a deliciously slow pace of which made you enthralled in the process. In response, you part your mouth to meet him halfway.

He pulls back and smiles at you. “It’s so sweet, like you.”

You immediately blink to snap away from your reverie. You whisper underneath your breath, “Focus, y/n.”

Two years. Two fucking years have passed yet you are still drowning with the memories of him.

The chime resonates in the store, signaling your recent arrival. The cashier gives you a curt nod then returns to sort out the products that lay on the countertop. You immediately made a beeline for the freezers at the farthest part of the store and grabbed the striking blue drink that appeared similarly like those occasional highlights on Doyoung’s hair. You sigh while clutching the cold beverage, “Just like his stupid highlights.”

It happens so fast that you cannot decipher the scene that unfolds before you. A figure looms behind you grabbing a watermelon smoothie, his body slightly clashing on yours when you attempt to walk towards the cashier. He is clearly towering over your height and his back is facing you. The guy’s shampoo or cologne has a tinge of a melon undertone that really reminds you of Taeyong of which derives from the fact that he is standing so close to you. Secondly, you can feel the humming warmth that radiates off his body. You gulp hard.

You mentally curse at tangling yourself in an awkward situation. You should leave yet you find your face heating up, stunned with your brain freezing. You pause for a good minute to observe the stranger.

A chill runs down your spine at the sudden feeling and the proximity. You clearly know that this guy is a stranger, but there is a sudden feeling erupting inside you and your mind is coaxing you that he isn’t. He’s not a stranger. You stare at his back, trying to rake up who possibly this guy is. He had a mop of grey hair, dangling earrings on each side and a driven aura. You reckon he is handsome as well, judging by the way he can carry himself through the store. Your mind is in a state of an endless blackhole, empty. All you could think is the fact that his alluring scent has you biting inside of your cheeks and ogling at him shamelessly.

The guys must be feeling the heavy weight of your gaze from behind. And so, he turns his head slightly to his right giving you the sight of his ungodly sharp jawline. You didn’t get a good sight of his eyes since it’s covered by the occasional strands of his titanium colored hair. You blink hard, that fucking jaw is really familiar. The fucking tall nose is familiar. The guy nods his head in veneration and whispers a small “sorry.” And stalks away. You hear the bell chimes.

Your heart starts to slam against your chest out of nowhere when you finally formed all the puzzle pieces together. That familiar voice lacing with softness and care. The hair, the jaw, the nose, the way he dresses. No, this isn’t just one of your imaginations. You know, it’s him, isn’t he?

You make your way through the snacks aisle to chase after the guy. He’s just inches away from the door when you suddenly grab his jacket sleeve. You smile, “Taeyong?”

“Uhm… do I know you?”

Your expression suddenly drops. The guy you just pull in is not the guy from earlier. He looks foreign with his hair in the shade of burgundy. You sheepishly apologize, but it comes out as a mere squeak from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I think I have mistaken you for someone else.”

“No shit. It’s alright.”

You pay for the beverage and snatch the parcel. You scramble to your feet quickly in hopes of searching for him. You know deep down, you’re sure of it. You crane your neck as far as you can possibly go until a voice laced from behind.

“What the fuck are you doing? And where’s my drink?”

You whip your body towards him and hand him the Gatorade.

Doyoung frowns. He tries to conceal the growing annoyance from his insides. Trying to act like his stomach frustrates him but the truth is, he is actually infuriated by the fact that Taeyong left the store so soon before you could even reach him. And he sees the scene unfold to himself. He huffs. With all the meticulous planning he thinks of, plus the help of his friends but still it isn’t enough that everything is derailing his momentum. Not just you and Taeyong but fucking fate itself.

At this moment all Doyoung thinks of is a ceasefire, he gives up. He’s one everything—including faking an upset stomach and practically broadcasting that he wants to shit just for the sake of both of you because Johnny notifies him of Taeyong’s whereabouts. Doyoung’s face is quite red by the chilly wind of Sunday night. He announces after trying to cool down his frustrations, “I’m going home.”

You raise your brow, “But you said we’ll still eat downtown?”

Doyoung glares. Now he’s back with his usual demeanor that you could easily taunt by throwing him a series of provocations. But you choose not to, he seems to be in a really bad mood. Not to mention diarrhea lies that you seem to be picking up. “I’m mending a stupid stomach.”

And before you could pull him back, his long legs already take him a long distance from yours.

Your feet backs up automatically and blend into the crowd. You cover your cheeks with your hands trying to wipe off the chilly wind that kisses you. Your summer dress’s hem flies after the sway of your hips. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins due to the last encounter with the stranger in the convenience store. His alluring scent is still fresh in your mind and it only reminds you of the guy you are still obviously in love with. You shouldn’t be anymore, but there is still a spark that ignites through your chest. And in your mind there is this feeling of familiarity that lights up the fire that has long died two years ago. It’s not just a plain sense of belonging though, it’s Taeyong, and he always feels like home. It’s been two years since Taeyong ended everything nicely. Yet something is quite strange as the feeling of longing for him suddenly went away with just a simple encounter that you weren’t even sure if it’s him in the first place.

You utter to yourself, “It’s him, I’m sure of it.”

But the never ending question plays around your mind like a broken record. Are you really sure? Are you ready to face him after two long years?

You hug your figure as you make your way through the same familiar tracks of your favorite pancake house in the main district. You should be home right now, yet the alluring scent of pancakes has you dragging your feet into their shop.

The small shabby shop that is designed with occasional aesthetic trinkets makes it stand out amongst the industrial buildings beside it. It is bustling and alive with the swarm of people going in and out of their main door, stomachs full and satisfied faces. You enter the door swiftly, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes thrills inside your nostrils. The familiar tune of summer by Calvin Harris blasts on the speakers in the small diner.

When I met you in the summer To my heartbeat sound We fell in love As the leaves turned brown

The diner is very crowded tonight. You struggle to go past through the crowds but you understand, the pancakes they sell here is to die for.

And we could be together baby As long as skies are blue You act so innocent now But you lied so soon When I met you in the summer

Your face immediately lights up when the cashier hands you the awe-striking sight of the freshly cooked pancakes, flooding with maple syrup with occasional strawberries there and frostings that adorn the stacks. You took a whiff of the familiar cologne with a watermelon undertone from a while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus especially when a pancake is making you so thrilled to eat.

The bustling sound of the city mixes with the catchy tune of summer and you find yourself dancing slightly along it’s melody. The lights above you cast a warm yellow glow on your face while you are waiting for a change. You answer the cashier with a smile when she hands you the cash. When you turn around, it wasn’t the aesthetic decoration of the diner that surprises you. But your ex boyfriend’s handsome face comes to your view. Your heart pounds inside your chest, yes you were longing for him, and there he is. Fate plays.

When I met you in summer.

You whisper but Taeyong manages to hear that soft call that he fucking miss so much. Those plump lips of yours that utter his name with such love and endearment, “Taeyong.”

It takes you, well, a whole hour to plop down and listen to your best friend rant about you and Taeyong. The way he did plan everything but according to him,

“Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. But I’m glad though, even if I look like a villain trying to overthrow you two.”

You just know that he is beyond frustrated that he didn’t get the both of you meet with his own mirthful ways but nevertheless, he is happy. You, on the other hand, are still shocked. Not that you had a bitter feeling, but Taeyong really had a drastic change compared to two years ago. You barely even know him.

It comes to your knowledge that he is really famous now, with his alias Kingpin plastered all over the city. He got home for a match with this Gregory guy that you haven’t heard of which is the fact that you are oblivious to it, all of it. Taeyong was stunned that you didn’t know anything about him or boxing, and you felt bad and so you made a mental note to research about it and him. He looks much more handsome than ever. With his doe eyes that hold a strong sense of contradiction, it’s strong full of aura and fire yet soft and endearing at the same time. The favorite rose like scar is still prominent underneath his right eye. His nose. His lips, those lips, it takes you an ounce of effort to hold back and not to think of unnecessary thoughts while observing the way how slow his mouth opens whenever he speaks or how pinkish it appears.

Doyoung asks you while he plops himself comfortably on your bed. “What happened in the pancake house?”

It is awkward.

After you whisper his name it feels like everything stopped. Both of you are like statues glued to your spots, holding deep eye contact. You can feel yourself flustered underneath his strong gaze. Those gaze that gives you an impression that he’s been undressing you already just with those eyes. It lasts for seconds, until you are both shushed by the staff for the queue is getting long.

You flinch but relax the moment after when Taeyong’s hands found its way to your hips. Just like old times. He didn’t utter a word, instead he’d silently lead you to the table just near the door. You immediately elicit a gasp when the warmth of his hands suddenly disappeared. You blink hard then place your plate down and silently nibble on the edges of the pancake waiting for Taeyong’s arrival.

Now that he’s much nearer, you can smell his strong scent. It doesn’t hurt your nose but the watermelon undertone stays in your nose for a while. A chill runs down your smile when he has plopped down comfortably in his seat giving you a fresh smile that makes your heart pound against your chest out of nowhere.

Taeyong is itching to talk to you. He clears his throat, “So… I didn’t know you were actually staying here.”

You really couldn’t get a control of your voice, instead it came out really weak and not as strong as you hoped it would be. Out of all moments, your body is slowly betraying you upon the sight of the beautiful Taeyong. You really pray that he doesn’t catch you on. “I didn’t reach the quota in Missouri, and then the application period for Hansville is already closed. So I just stayed, I hate new enviro—”

Just as you could mention the environment, Taeyong already did. He gives you a playful look, “Environment?” There’s actually no point in small talk, because Taeyong knows everything about you but he did just for the sake of seeing you, your lips, your beauty, he’s risking it all.

You feel your chest vibrate with laughter, “You couldn’t blame me though, I hate people.”

Taeyong grins. But his eyes are glimmering of darkness that surfaces his orbs. Taeyong knows and he sees it all, his overall effect on you. His lips start to stretch more into a wolfish grin while inching closer to you.

You instantly gulp while staring at him back. “Why?”

“Are you really sure about that, y/n sweetheart?” His breath smells like mint that fans out your cheeks when he slowly dragged those words from his tongue. Casting instant warmth over your cheeks and activating your gooseflesh.

You find yourself struggling for words upon the catch of his old nickname for you. Especially when he’s in this state, the usual laid back manner. You hate people alright, but you had exceptions like Dia, Doyoung and unfortunately him as well. He immediately retracts from slouching and straightens up his posture. He licks his bottom lips slowly. Honestly, watching Taeyong is making you suffer internally.

“I really missed you, y/n.” He says, his voice echoing with deep timber that laces with velvet and sweet. But those words aren't imbued with sarcasm or mockery rather laced with deep sincerity.

Those words somehow pinches you. You do right? But there is something holding you back. Fear? You let out a grin but it looked really forced with all your teeth gritted. “It was good seeing you again, Taeyong.” You clear your throat for the nth time and try to push out the strange feeling away in your gut.

Both of you finish up your pancakes and he offers you a walk to your apartment. Both of you are not speaking letting the summer wind speak for both of you. The familiar building welcomes your sight, there is light in your unit’s window so you reckon Doyoung is still with the world. Taeyong clears his throat and stops in his tracks, “I guess this is your home, no?”

You smile, “Yes.”

He approaches you with such agility in an astounding manner. You catch a whiff of those familiar fruity scents again when he leans closer to you. In response you immediately shut your eyes, expecting. But there are no kisses delivered. Way to go and make yourself a fool.

He chuckles. “Can I get your number?”

Your whole face heats up as if you’ve been submerged in a tub of boiling water. You open your eyes and divert your gaze away from his playful ones. “Of course, Hand me your phone.”

“Just scribble it down my forearm.”

“What?”

“My phone died but I got some marker, so just jot the digits down.” He fishes for the pen and hands it to you. His calloused hands brushing yours, and those small forms of touch still delivers the extreme effects to your body.

Those sinful arms. Your fingers are shaking while jotting your numbers down, his bulging veins are too much of a distraction especially whenever he flexes it.

You bid him goodbye and speed walk away to enter your unit, missing the smile that ghosts his lips at your marching figure.

You couldn’t wipe Taeyong’s images that night from your mind and so does he. Hell, If you can just see how those smile never leaving his face at his unexpected meeting with you.

The sound of a rustling bedsheet snaps you to reality.

You stare at Doyoung. “It was okay.”

His brows arch upwards as if mocking you. “Liar.”

Heaven knows it wasn’t just okay, you indeed enjoyed having him as company.

An exasperated groan leaves out your body as the bell rang obnoxiously signaling the end of the final period. You immediately hoist your bag over your shoulder and march away from the school as fast as you could.

Unbeknownst to you, you are crossing paths with Taeyong in a day more than you had imagined. Just yesterday, you bump into him just when you were thinking about him. And his divine sight welcomes you, with his sun-kissed skin shimmering underneath the rays of the summer sun, his neck glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and those eyes that ignites with unexplainable aura and intensity.

You hate to admit but he has changed so drastically and you could use the term cool, to describe him and his current state. You see him jog around the oval with his titanium hair striking up giving more emphasis to his sharp features. It’s parted haphazardly and damp. His tank top is clinging to his torso soaked with perspiration. His biceps strains out, he’s not that bulky type but with occasional muscles here and there, his physique is much more lean. And with just those charismatic looks, it never fails to send you a pool of pleasure, there.

You feel a shiver when he turns around and runs a finger to his hair. His prominent veins bulged out as he tugged on his hair, fixing it into place. Your eyes trail down further until you see his abs on full display, coming to your view.

Fuck. Fuck everything and your raging hormones. You immediately return your gaze up to his face and you feel your face heating up when it comes to your realization that he’s been observing you as well. His gaze never leaves yours, then one moment, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face. Giving you the view that you've been ogling at. He knows what you like and he’s giving it to you without any protest.

The sun shines through the oval, casting a yellowish glow on his body. His soft flesh is glowing with the occasional tattoos adorning his ribcage. You immediately gulp in hopes to diminish the growing sensation blooming in your stomach. But it never left, especially when Taeyong’s smile is being shot out towards your direction.

He’s really pleased to see you, especially seeing you in that body fitting uniform that makes him go hard on a summer’s day.

He approaches you without wiping the smile off his face. You fidget while trying to compose yourself not wanting to embarrass yourself much further. The night when you met him the first is enough.

“Fancy seeing you here. Are you headed home?”

“I ought to but I think I want to take a walk to the park.”

The bag straps dares to slip out of your shoulders. You utter an incoherent, “fuck.”

Taeyong immediately changes his expression. He looks at you in concern as he catches on your discomfort. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Oh… it’s just that the professor advised us to bring all three books for a collaborative reading but he didn’t show up.”

“Hmm…”

“And then I was tasked to report to the home room adviser so practically I have to carry out these heavy books while climbing up to the fourth floor.”

You immediately shut your mouth and your rants when you saw how he grew silent. You bit your lip and apologized meekly, “Sorry, I was just so tired from the summer class and this bag—”

He doesn’t utter a word but he grabs the bag away from you even before you can protest. He groans, “Damn, these are heavy.”

“They are.”

He stretches out his hand to you. “Come, let’s go to the park.”

You protest. Your eyes widening at his declaration. “But… but, you still have your training?”

“Nah. I can make time.”

And he pulls you away. His hand holding you dearly, just like old times. The warmth of his hands filling up those spots of yearning you had from his two year disappearance.

The walk to the nearest park wasn’t as deadly silent like the first night you both met. With both of your shoulders bumping and hands intertwined. You were not holding back anymore, clearly stating all of your distaste towards your college professors passionately with Taeyong chuckling in response. The conversation carries on smoothly filling out the gap that both of you had withdrawn from the years of absent communication. It’s filling out the space as both of you are talking about the randomness in all things possible not letting the implicit dead air eat out the aura engulfing you two.

Taeyong is not much of a talker, but when he does, everything that rolls out of his tongue could really hold a significant place in the listener’s memory. This fact still piques you up at the sight of his doe eyes quietly invested whenever you talk. You are always the talker between the two of you.

You can notice it from your periphery. You can feel the heavy weight of his drowning gaze piercing right through you as he examines you with such curiosity. You halt at your impending speech about student organization, feeling a lot more hotter than usual. The silence ebbed its way like how a beacon flies away from a started up fire. You let out a sharp intake of breath as you muster all your courage to reciprocate his heavy gaze.

You let out an airy laugh, “Is there something on my face?”

The way his demeanor changes drastically before your very eyes. His deep eyes are luminous, that made you feel some sort of deep mystification. His eyes are clearly looking at something through you, or searching for something to mend a yearning that is situated deep in his chest. He missed looking at your face, and a single gaze couldn’t fill those years of him trying to familiarize your face with those dusts in his memory.

“You’ve changed so much,” he says. His eyes are not leaving yours. You could almost feel some tinge of connection with just the way he stares down at you with deep adoration. That shoots out a simmering feel underneath your skin and painting out your face with searing hotness.

You try to conceal yourself by clearing your throat. “How do you know?”

“I keep on looking at you.”

“I can see that,” you state in a matter of fact. Challenging him further, “why is that?”

His lips immediately tugs upright at the change of your tone. He pushes in, further stretching out your curiosity, “Do you really wanna know?”

“Why?”

He blinks slowly, his eyelashes slightly fluttering against his eyelids. He opens his lips, “I wanna feel those lips again.”

You gulp hard when you see his gaze drops down to your lip level. That is the same thing you were thinking of the first time you saw him, don’t you? You also gawk at his as well, playing along the colors of a pale pink rose and crimson chrysanthemums. You can feel your brain struggling out to think of a thing to get away in this scenario you are in, instead you are lost in thought while looking at his lips. You definitely want to feel those lips as well.

“Why don’t you do it then?”

You lift the edges of your lips into a playful smile testing out the very edge of Taeyong’s patience. You must’ve stunned him at your vulgarity since he is opening his mouth for a retort but nothing rolls out.

“A-are you sure?”

This is the connection you were talking about. The constant pounding of both of your hearts are beating in sync against your rib cages. Feeling the same sense of want for each other’s touch. The butterflies flying around your stomach in an erratic manner.

“Do it.”

You thought he’s gonna hold back, but the sudden feeling of his lips crashing on yours had you sending in a skyrocketing ecstasy.

You didn’t get a hold of how long it has been, but all you can think of how sensual everything is. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the feeling of Taeyong’s tongue slowly grazing then nibbling on the plump flesh of your lower lip. You unconsciously let out a quiet moan that gave him access to meet you along the process.

Taeyong relaxes for a bit and you feel his hands slowly crawling up your arm and find its spot and settle it softly on your jaw. He caresses you slowly with such delicacy, afraid to give you a scratch. You are really lost with his mouth connected with yours. You are too stunned to think of something but it felt magical and passionate.

He slightly tilts his head towards his left and pushes your face more into him to deepen the kiss. His tongue grazing through the underside of your mouth.

He breaks the kiss, but his hands never left your cheeks. His forehead is resting on yours, a smile is ghosting his lips but his eyes are closed. He whispers your name sweetly causing a feeling of sparks igniting inside your chest. You rest your hands on his shoulders, gripping on it for dear life and to calm your nerves.

You can see the slow flutters of his eyelashes and how it cast a hollow shadow on his cheekbones. His breath slightly fans your face and you find yourself ticklish. He finally opens his eyes and how it holds such light, alive like the galaxy. He gives you a smile, “I really missed this.”

Then he leaned again to press on several small kisses, peppering your face with his lips while making smooch sounds. You immediately let out a giggle. His touch stays put, hot and tantalizing you can almost feel yourself burning.

This is what Taeyong has been dreaming of. How he yearns for that tinge of strawberry that he only gets to taste whenever he’s kissing you. You taste so sweet. Overly saccharine it made him much more alive.

Days past to weeks. It’s a routine like you expected it, impending torment every morning which is summer classes. But someone has added some spice to your monotonous life; Lee Taeyong. There has been a change in the atmosphere engulfing both of you— something that touches a nostalgic feeling — a slight nudge to your heart.

He is currently leaning at the back door frame of your classroom. Watching you struggle to finish up an essay that is currently due in fifteen minutes. That is exactly the sight he would die to see.

“Start with the main points first before you elaborate the sub points,” he beams. Good thing, you are situated at the very back and so you are both out of ear shot. You press your brows all together, concentrating on the damn vague subject but the scent of Taeyong is too distracting.

He crouches down and snatches the pen away from you, scribbling a lopsided pyramid with all the words as your starter. You stare at him and he gives you a smile in return. The way his eyes turn into moon crescents that made your heart churn. Do you really deserve those smiles?

He whispers proudly, “There. That should keep you on track.”

You gasp, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He steals a kiss from you and stalked away with his phone on his ear.

Later that day, your phone keeps buzzing against your ass. The first ever text you’ve received from Taeyong. He had a new number.

[pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:16 PM] I hope you finished your paper! [4:18 PM] its taeyong btw [4:23 PM] uhm,,, perhaps you want to go for a ride,, like fuck I hate texting dhhdhd [4:23 PM] but I wanna show u around our boxing gym if you would like of course… [4:25 PM] text me back, yeah?

You immediately grin at the message.

[4:26 PM] alright, as long as you treat me dinner :D [4:27 PM] alsoo… thank you, I said it already but I want to thank you agaaain :) [pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:27 PM] you got that! :) [4:27 PM] see you!!! <3

You pretty much found yourself ogling at his last message.

[4:28 PM] anything for you, sweetheart. I love you.

Those messages from Taeyong got you in a state of deep conflict. You just thought of it as a simple get together and not a date. Right, that must be it, he just wanted to show you around the place where he boxes. That could be it.

On the other hand, Taeyong knows that it isn’t just something as a plain go-out impromptu. He really mustered his courage to ask you out for a date. And he hasn't thought of a proper place since he’s not permitted to wander around the outskirts of the city not until after his upcoming match. The boxing gym could be the second destination after dinner.

The shared relationship between the two of you has escalated more than just plain awkwardness. While you are munching out your yakisoba, Taeyong is eating out his salad, watching and lowkey happy that you are sharing a company with him even though the offer is quite a little bit absurd. You are now staring back at him whenever he does, occasionally throwing out flirtatious comebacks after the other. This made something spark out in Taeyong’s chest, is it a sign of your feelings coming back? Or something even bigger than the picture he has been painting? Commitment?

The walk to the boxing gym didn’t take up much of your time. Taeyong pushes the door and lets you enter in first. There are several people inside the gym and they all gave you a friendly greeting. There’s another man that approaches the two of you, probably a few years older than you and is handsome as well in his grey sweats and black shirt. His eyes mold into moon crescents as he greets you with all his pearly teeth showing, “You must be y/n? I’m Taeil, Taeyong’s other coach.”

The people in the gym scrambled out to the connecting unit to give you both privacy. It's just both of you, with the lights casting a warm glow between your bodies, the dumbbells untouched, the ring in the middle waiting for him. He leads you inside the ring as he hoists up the rope upwards for your entrance. The platform is quite slippery but Taeyong immediately guides you forward towards the middle with his hands gripping your hips tightly. You just watch him intently and you can see how he grew a lot more taller, practically hovering over your figure.

He demonstrates a simple punch here and there. Pointing out the parts of the ring but all of his words are muddled, swimming away as your attention is solely focused on his lips and the way his slender body sway with such grace and agility.

He removes the glove and throws it away. He approaches you, “Are you gonna do something with the way that you are looking at me?”

He can feel it. Tonight is something different. The way both of you are staring right at each other’s soul is a little different.

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours then he holds it up to his lips to kiss your fingers gingerly. He’s taking his time to kiss one digit to another. Then, he leans slowly while grazing his lips onto the outer shell of your ear. Your body tingles at the warm breath fanning the right side of your face. “What does that stare mean huh? Y/n?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with those tantalizing eyes staring at you, full of determination, smoldering with passion and lust. His touch on your hips is burning, shuddering as he caresses it down slowly emitting the rise of your goosebumps. His lips are brushing against your nose peppering small kisses just like old times. He handles you with such care like you are some sort of a delicate masterpiece by Michelangelo.

You just want him. His lips. His entirety. You want Lee Taeyong.

He caresses your jaw soothingly before leaning down to press a soft peck on your lips. Then, again and again. Until you encircled your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You feel him smile against your lips after reciprocating your hungry and passionate kisses. After all these years of yearning, you’ve never felt so alive. He’s something akin to fire that never fails to have your insides burn with so much spark and passion.

He pulls you more, pushing your figure on his. It feels surreal with both your bodies molding into one. His soft touch turns into a passionate tug of war with your blouse. His hands run over those curvatures that are hidden by your top. Oh god, he knows how he missed doing these.

Taeyong knows that you’re the catastrophe that yields this side of him. He loves you so much. And he believes that you are both made for each other, like planets meant to be aligned together. Your scent that smells like home with a touch of roses and bloom. Your lips that are perfectly made just for him, your tongue that slowly and carefully grazes his lower lip. The kiss that both of you are sharing is too sensual, different, grounded into something just like the very first one you have both shared.

He nibbles on yours that triggers a soft moan from you. You immediately granted him entrance. The ghost of his touch is still lingering on your jaw, until he settles it down onto your hips. You are sure that he can the loud pounding of your chest, the way the big spark ricochets against your chest with every touch he leaves.

It’s messy but surreal. Binding with much adoration and deep sense of lust. With his tongue exploring every bit of you. Tangling and connected by feelings. It is so romantic that you don’t want it to end.

He breaks the kiss, leaning against your temple. Ragged breaths resonate around the quiet gym. You take your time to settle your pounding heart and breath. You look at him, all but imbued with pure adoration and affection. His swollen lips whisper your name in awe and he smiles at how he dreamt of it and now it's unfolding before him.

You just want to be like these. With you tucked under his protective embrace. Listening to his erratic heartbeat. But, you were still afraid.

He whispers, “God. What will I do without you?”

“But… I’m always here.”

“But I won’t.”

You inhale a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t understand.”

“I might move out abroad for training.”

Those are the things you are always afraid of. Taeyong entering your life, then to leave out as soon you cannot contain yourself anymore, drowning with every piece of him, lost without his presence beside you.

This was your nightmares, coming back at square one broken and shattered. And it’s threatening to come back especially now that you are finding yourself falling for him, again.

It’s raining hard. Gloomy and heavy just like the constant barrage of thoughts clouding in your brain that you have overlooked a text message from Taeyong and Doyoung’s sudden appearance at your room.

“I can see a blooming college student, and why is that?” He teases but it wasn’t enough to make your mood lift not for a little bit.

“I don’t see myself as blooming though, why’d you say that?”

“Don’t lie to me. I can see how lovely and alive you are when you’ve been hanging out with Taeyong.”

“It won’t be long. I should’ve known,” you wipe your face. “God, why am I such an idiot?”

His face immediately concerts to concern, he knows you’re in deep conflict and something wrong is up. “Tell me.”

You told him everything. The internal battle you’ve recently put yourself into Everything that has been bugging in your mind lately. “I’ve let him in my life once, then now, twice and right now I’m unsure of everything. I’m even afraid that I have to go through the past shits I was thrown into because he chooses his career more than… us. And I don’t want to feel that misery again.”

He hums, “Look.” You embrace yourself for an earful of lectures from him. “But, who cares about the past? It's already done but it isn't just you who suffered and undergone extreme shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dumb, y/n.”

“I said what I said, Doyoung. This isn’t love, it could be just the wild force like lust or whatever...”

“No, you’re still swimming around this deep pool of conflict and denial.”

“It's easier to speak about someone, Kim Doyoung. But you don’t know what I am feeling right now, stop invalidating me.”

“I’m not. But I’m speaking as a best friend and I know you love him more than you know, you do.”

You snap, “Stop concluding things!”

“Oh yeah? But if you are unsure of Taeyong, why do you keep on texting with him when you know that you shouldn’t? What about those kisses you both shared when he dropped you off here yesterday? You don’t know but you’ve been drowning with the presence of Taeyong that you’re oblivious to the fact that everyone knows you’re lying. You still love him.”

“I just want to hang out but that necessarily means I do love him.”

Doyoung clenches his jaw and approaches your figure. You’re being too difficult. Your eyes widens at his sudden outbursts but what made you stunned is that he suddenly pulled your face to his, then he planted a soft peck on your nose.

Doyoung knew this was coming, but he just wanted to help with the thing he knows will work. After all the shenanigans he pull, all of them didn’t work and ended the way he wanted in it be. By doing this, he will know if you are indeed in a midst of conflict or you really do love Taeyong. It’s a giveaway, if you do push him away, it just explains everything. If you do not, then he is wrong for pushing everything into your edge.

Doyoung is tall and thus, he can see the marching figure of Taeyong and how he stopped midway at the sight of both of you. From the perspective of Taeyong, it gives him a picture that both of you are kissing when in fact, Doyoung is just leaning down to match your height.

“What the hell?”

You immediately remove Doyoung’s hands from your face and spin quickly on your heels to meet him. “Taeyong, I can explain…”

Taeyong smiles bitterly, “No. save it.” He lets go of the material he’s been gripping through all this time.

The sight of Taeyong, he’s beautiful as ever. But looking at his face painting into a mixture of plain reticence and agony surely made you sick to the gut. You hate to see him hurting and when he spun his heel to leave, you chased him off. Afraid of losing him, again. At this moment you have been sure of it, you love him more than you do.

“Wait—“

He spins his heel but maintains a safe distance from you. “I didn’t know you and Doyoung had a thing, I should’ve known.”

“No! No, please, listen to me—“

His gaze is so dark with pain and anger. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. Imagine, I have been believing all these time, yet, fuck.”

“No, Taeyong…”

He snaps, “Do you really love me y/n? Or you’re just driven?”

That shuts you out. But you know that answer, it's just that fear is holding you from shouting out how much you love him.

He smirks bitterly, “See? Those could answer everything.”

Heaven knows how much you love Lee Taeyong. How you are afraid of seeing him leave and never return back.

The next days you are waking up to are the worst as you speak. The way every morning feels so heavy with a constant tirade of thoughts running over your mind like a shadow lurking by. Your mornings pass by bitterly without messages coming from Taeyong or his stupid voice overs that lulls you to sleep. Not even his sweet talks and songs. None of them all.

It feels like shit to wake up with a heavy chest glooming with unexplainable feelings of confusion and denial. You hated to admit but you are so angry with yourself for being such a pussy. The constant loop of emotions that you feel, above all fear of having everything repeat again, then anger at yourself for hurting Taeyong, then regret because you know you could have done something better. You are well aware that you are just forcing yourself into this pool of anxiety. Afraid of something uncertain, when you shouldn’t be and it was just enough to drive Taeyong away. You could have just told him you loved him, but you were letting yourself be pulled out by your own judgements. Love means sacrificing, but you were such a coward for doing so.

Denial that was the cause of the pain that killed his passionate eyes. You know too well that what you have shared with him isn’t just something as plain lust but it was driven by deep love and passion. Yet, you couldn’t even correct out the stupid lie that Taeyong had to forcibly believe. Because you were so afraid of admitting that you are falling back to him, and you’re afraid that he might not be able to catch you out like he did before all because of boxing.

But was it worth fearing for if it meant pushing him away? No. You loved him more than you do. Does it make you at ease to just bury down in your darkest pits and watch Taeyong disappear just because you were so afraid of taking up the risk? No.

In the course of summer’s day and hazy afternoons you have spent with him, shoulder to shoulder, swaying with deep grace and agility, you have seen how smooth your relationship with him changed. Unbeknownst to you, the relationship shared between you has blossomed into something passionate and raw; full of emotion. No puppy love but special and mature. You hate to engage with people but with Taeyong around, there is a line that connects the two of you like two star-crossed lovers destined and made for each other.

His smile never fails to cast positivity in your life, and hell you know, that you wanted to be a reason for those smiles as well. But how can you do it, when you were the reason why it won’t happen anymore?

You know you are just scared of letting him inside your life and then one moment, he’ll leave. His departure has deeply wounded and scarred you to the point that you don’t want it to happen anymore. This has always been a part of commitment, that obstacles are being thrown towards your way. But the more you think of it, the more selfish and worse you felt. He did support you all the time, especially when you mentioned to him two years ago that you wanted to go abroad for an internship or those times when he is determined to keep you on track despite his body failing because of the strenuous training he’s being shoved under. But when it was his time to go, instead of supporting him all the way, you eventually closed everything around you, even tried so hard to tell it without hurting you. That made you feel like shit.

You try to diminish everything and try to focus on your classes but you constantly find yourself thinking about those titanium hair and passionate eyes. His kisses and burning touches. You stare at the pile of schoolworks stacked neatly at your table, waiting for your whole undivided attention. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to focus, not with that growing lump of sadness clogging on your throat.

It’s impossible to wave everything off like nothing of this ever happened, that Taeyong was just another episode in your life. But he wasn’t just someone that is a passerby, he’s engraved to your memory, and he’s that memory you wish to remember till death.

It hurts to see his face into pain.

Lee Taeyong is the man that you’ve ever wished for. He loves without boundaries, without limits, without judgement. He’ll love you with all his might, disregarding all those flaws that you keep. He’s pretty with his soul so bright and pure. He’s like a rose in this dead garden that shines in his very own way. Bright red, full of determination, power and beauty. He’s so kind like the angel Gabriel. He was a dream come true for you, ethereal like a daydream, the love of your life that you pushed away because you were being such a coward.

A throb in your chest escapes when you see the crumpled paper discarded near the door. His neat handwriting comes to your view.

I just read the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks and saw this passage;

“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”

I love you with all my entirety, I know I have fucked up, but I am willing to do everything for you, just to be with you, forever.

He just loves you and you were doubting everything.

“Good thing I didn’t throw that paper away.”

You immediately spin around your heel and see Doyoung plopping himself comfortably on the sofa.

“I’m still mad at what you’ve done.”

“I know, but if it wasn't for that show, you’ll never be as sure as you are now.”

“You’re bullshit.”

“I’m just helping you,” he clears his throat. “Now, tell me more.”

“No, until you tell why you did that stupid thing.”

He sighs. “It’s an eye opener for people in denial like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you heard Taeyong, you immediately pushed me away and chased after him… Why? Because you don’t want to see him get hurt because of a stupid and childish act.”

You didn’t answer.

“Now tell me more.”

You sigh again and close your eyes. Doyoung watches you patiently. “Doyoung, tell me, am I dumb for feeling this way? Afraid that he’ll leave me again because of boxing and selfish because I am just looking out for myself?”

“First of all, you are not dumb, academically could be, but no, you’re not. You see, whenever we feel fear, that just means that we love that person so much we are afraid to lose them. And don’t invalidate everything just because you are looking out for yourself.”

He continues on, “I know that the separation of you two were messed up and rushed because Taeyong had to train more and you cannot decipher the fact that he has to leave. And now that he’s back, you just don’t want to feel the same old misery you had to endure these years. But trust me, he feels the same way as you do. In fact, much worse because he chose boxing over you. But it's part of life and love, sacrifices happen and it makes the bond between the two stronger.”

“What do I do?”

“You see, you keep on returning back to your past, that it might happen again and again. Forget those, it's in the past, what is important is the present and that is what you should focus on. Feelings are really hard to keep up with. We’re humans, vulnerable. But I know that he really loves you.”

“I do, too.”

“Then, you should talk it out to him. Don’t rush things and take lithe steps.”

He approaches your figure and pulls you into an embrace. You feel your eyes burning with tears when he whispers, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

“What if he misunderstood?”

“He won’t. Trust me, he is my friend too.”

You feel a sense of comfort even if it's just a fraction of time. His words echoing around your mind, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

You find yourself dropping by their boxing gym. Taeil approaches you figure, awkwardly leaning against the door, kinda conflicted if you should set foot in the gym or not.

“Hey,” he greets. His face is quite pale with the notable dark bags under his eyes, he looks really dishevelled.

You bow your head, “Hey Taeil, what’s up?”

“Tired.”

“Oh, it's that so?”

“But he’s pretty messed up among all of us.”

He knows.

You can hear the disgruntled grunts and strong punches from the farthest side of the room.

You let out a sigh, “Why is that?”

“You see, he’s been really expectant of this match but he was notified at the last minute that it was cancelled because his opponent was tested positive for using peds which is illegal,” he trails. “I think it made him upset given the fact that we have done extreme preparations and he was obliged to undergo a mandatory drug test when he hated doing it in the first place.”

You find yourself being stupefied, not knowing what to answer. “I’m sorry--”

You are interrupted midway when you hear constant shouts and punches.

“It was found out that the contract of sponsorship was a fraud and used as a bait for us to bite on. He was really enraged.” Taeil clears his throat, “Now he’s been grilled by the trainers because there’s a big dip in his usual powerful performance. There was never a problem especially in training but his performance just escalated down and I really don't know how to help him either, I think he's really unmotivated.”

You feel really guilty because you were also the reason for his sudden drop in performance.

You call out to Taeil and hand him the pink card, “Can you please pass this to him?”

Taeyong stumbles in the locker room after the hellish training, he grips on the metal bars tightly to support his body. He feels like his body is collapsing with his legs wobbling and his arms tired, without the power to hold anything in his command. The bright pink card that is clipped haphazardly on his jacket caught his attention, he stretched out his arm and he elicited a sharp gasp when he felt the sudden jolt of pain rising up to his shoulders. The contents of the card surprised him, your baby picture that’s his favorite and the neat calligraphy of a book passage that had his eyes damp with tears.

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday-- Noah”

I have also read the Notebook and all I could say is I can’t stop thinking about you. Everything could be hard but I am more than willing to dive, to walk into a path full of thorns with you. I was really afraid to see you walk out of that door, and it came to my realization that I’d rather have you go away temporarily, to chase on your dream rather than losing you forever. Chase your dream and I’ll chase mine, and we’ll still find each other’s arms. I will support you always, rose. I love you so much.

You find yourself in the boxing gym again, awkward as fuck.

The rambunctious rambles of Taeyong’s teammates piques up his ears yet he doesn't pay attention to it because he knows it’s useless. He quietly wraps the white bandages around his wrist and his fingers. His muscles are still aching with the aftermath of the afternoon grilling yesterday but he needs to practice more despite everything fucking him up.

Taiel shouts out, “Taeyong!”

He snaps, “What?!”

But the sight of your figure at the door deeply surprised him. You look like you’ve been contemplating for a good minute whether you should enter the gym or just cling out at the door. Ah, he knows. You hated talks and people so much and it shows.

It’s been days since you have last seen him, he’s still beautiful as ever. But you can see the dark shadow that casts underneath his eyes. There were lines here and there that could be caused by stress and fatigue. His jaw is much sharper than before. His eyes were unreadable, deep and smoldering.

He hoists and climbs out of the ropes and out of the ring to approach you. You can see yourself eyeing his figure intently but you rest your gaze at his strong and unyielding stare down to those pretty lips.

He breathes, “Hey.”

It was just a faint call yet it feels like you’ve been floating around in cloud nine. You fidget against the wall and Taeyong notices. You wanted to tell him more, everything, yet you are confined in your very own space, with fear clogging out your throat.

You settle with calling his name, your lips quivering, “Taeyong.”

Taeil immediately shushes the other boys that have plains on eavesdropping on the drama unfolding. The marches out towards the connected unit with exasperated groans leaving their lips. Now it’s just you and him again. With everything untouched and quiet. The space around you is basking into that awkward pace just like the first encounter. Your heart ricochets off against your chest that indicates a quiet plea that snaps you out of what you should do. Here goes nothing, you should talk it out to him.

You try to divert your attention from the erratic beating of your heart to the boy who’s been looking at you with his dark eyes.

He begins, “How is your summer class?”It took you off guard, “It’s fine.”

You clear your throat and mumble the words, “I want to talk, please?”

He leans down with his brows furrowed together. “What? I didn’t get what you were trying to say…”

You sigh and yanked his tank top to plant a kiss on those rose colored lips of him. He misses your touch. He relaxes by the feeling of your touch. You were just enough to fill out the hole that has been empty throughout his heart.

You whisper, “I’m really sorry for being afraid… for holding back… I don’t have something intimate going on with Doyoung I swear, he just leaned in to slap me out of my reverie… With his acts I was able to make sure that you were the only one that I will ever love… I could never replace you with someone else because I love you so much… you are the only one that I will choose, forever.”

He closes his eyes and leans on your forehead. He was so afraid of losing you either. When he saw Doyoung that day, he really felt a sense of tugging in his heart. Fear that he couldn’t make up for all the things that he’d done. For leaving so soon. For leaving you. He misses you so much that he can’t find the energy to go on without you by his side.

He kisses you with all the power he could muster. With all earnestness. Peppering you with kisses, dusting every part of your face with all his might. He’s intoxicated with just your presence looming inside his systems. He leaves you breathless with every passionate kiss he leaves, leaving a trail of hotness that has been searing up into your body. You could almost feel that spark with just the ghost of his touch. This is what you want, with him by your side. How content you feel with him and those yearning suddenly disappears.

Taeyong cups your face, holding you with such care as if you’re the most delicate glass. Fragile. He stares at your eyes, searching into yours deeply until he could see how beautiful they really are, that holds the entire galaxy with them, sparkling and deep.

You grab his hands carefully, kissing his bruised hands that are like those flowers that your mother grows. Delphinium, that is casting a glow of pale blue and violet. It must’ve pained him to still train with his hands scarred.

He calls you out with the same old nickname for you that sends you to bits of fluttery. “Sweetheart... “ His voice is imbued with longing, his voice deep and soothing, contradicting yet lulling. “You don’t have to apologize. I will forgive you every time, because I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry for being like this, still trapped with the past…”

He shushes you with his finger. “Hey, let’s forget everything in the past and focus on what we have here in the present.”

You smile, “Present.”

Taeyong finds himself being lost for words yet he seizes this opportunity to hold you closer to his. He loves you dearly and admires your beauty. Your entirety. He loves you for being you. That is all about simplicity with your skin glowing, so it was your inner beauty that not only lit up your soft features but Taeyong’s eyes as well. When he sees you smile and laugh, he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in your company was to feel that he too was someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

“Stop staring.”

He laughs, “Why not? I miss you.”

“Your coach might scold me for interfering with your training.”

He rolls his eyes, “The match was cancelled, anyways. Let him be mad, I don’t care.”

You grin, “You’re impossible.”

He leans in again for a kiss. It’s not just a peck but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that glows in your chest.

He kisses up and down your neck. You let out little whimpers of anticipation while he works his way back to your tender, smooth lips.

He breathes out your name, “y/n…” caressing your face gingerly, brushing away those strands of hair away from your eyes, “Did you know I was really happy to see that letter from you?”

“Why?”

“Because you called me rose that you only did when you felt like it.”

You laugh at his confession, “Why?”

“I just felt happy that you finally addressed me by that name.”

You give him a smile while caressing his cheeks soothingly. His expression is a mixture of endearment and loving, with his smile that is so blinding with beauty.

He continues, “I could still remember that very last time you called me that and I thought I will never get those endearments from you. Rose is the name out of all that I can help but to smile whenever I hear someone say it.”

“It’s actually weird to call you that.”

“But it’s fucking unique and I will aways remember you whenever I hear the word rose.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you… You’re someone so kind and pure that brings up the beauty even in the smallest things and God… what will I ever do without you in my life?”

“We are always meant to be together even though Doyoung’s plan on bringing our paths together fails.”

You cross your brows, “How did you know that?”

He grins cheekily, “He told me.” That snitch.

The conclusions are starting to form inside your head like whirlpools. You point out an accusatory finger towards him, your eyes wide, “So you know?”

He smirks and kisses you again. “Yes, but it just feels good to hear those words coming out of you.”

“You drama king!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Out of seven billion, I will always choose you.”

Those words prompt another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks.

You hear a roar, “Lee Taeyong! Back to the ring!”

You could see his manager fuming but when he sees your figure being concealed by Taeyong’s body he immediately scurries back and grunts out incoherent profanities.

You snatch his top to lean for a peck then pushing him away, “Go, before you get grilled for--”

“For what? Being sexy?”

“You have an non-existent ass, Taeyong.”

He just smiles at your comeback. And he could just feel the air knocking out of his fucking chest. God, what is life if it wasn’t you with his side like this? He’s a lovefool, only for you.

He begins, “You know I hated books but…” his eyes are now soft and deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. A smile tugging on the ends of his lips, “You are, and always have been, my dream.”

You recognize those quotes from Nicholas Sparks.

You smile too, “You are and will ever be the love of my life, Taeyong.”

SMUT (SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE)

You can still remember the first time that you felt extreme happiness, that is when you have been given the plush toy you have been dreaming off by your dad. That was memorable, then the second one that gave you light was Taeyong. He brings the extreme feeling of euphoria just by the ghosts of his lips. From the very start, you wanted to drown yourself with the boy who’s laced with elegance and sweetness that is Lee Taeyong.

You didn’t know how Taeyong was able to spare himself out of his training sessions and his fuming coach. But what is important is that after he runs towards your direction, carelessly yanking out his bag, he reconnected his lips to yours, peppering your whole face down to marking your neck as his. You both don’t stop feeling each other until you are both forced out by Taeil.

Taeyong’s vein is filled with adrenaline and the wild drive of lust. He carelessly drives down his apartment, skipping three traffic lights, at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care about traffic rules, he wanted you the soon, the better. The both of you stumbles down the hallway, bodies waltzing while trying to fit in the door of his unit.

His fingers were grazing your scalp slightly tugging on your locks to provide him more access to deepen the kiss. His other hand is roaming around you, exploring every bit of your curvature that you always hide. He grips on your hips hard then slammed you on the nearest wall he could find. Taeyong pushes his pelvis onto you, deeper while torturing you by biting down on your lower lip. You let out a quiet moan that urges him to do more, grinding against your pants that sends a surge of swirling sparks in your belly and wetness that pools between your thighs.

You’re his drug that drives him into madness.

He couldn't contain himself any further as excitement pools inside his system, his eyes burning with desire with the sight of you caged between his arms. He gives you a look while he touches the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your approval. You nodded and it was enough for him to shake while trying to work out and remove you from the garment that covers your beauty. He inwardly let out a low groan upon the sight of your breast cupped perfectly by the lacy bra.

Your faces immediately flush at his intense gaze, but he immediately leans in to plant a quick peck on your lips, smiling throughout. “You are perfect. God.”

He traces with his lithe fingers starting from your hands upward to your shoulders. You can almost see how he occasionally steals a glance at you with his hooded eyes. His gaze is so heavy and hungry as if you’re a pool of crystal water and he’s a man with an exorbitant thirst, that he cannot longer wait to devour you with all his might. He proves his ardent hunger by cupping your cheeks and attacking your now swollen lips, then tilting your head slightly on the left to press his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, his teeths grazing and biting down, leaving you angry red marks. He wasn’t feeling enough, he titles your head more, providing him more access to the sweet spot that is on the arch of your collarbones, sucking and marking until you are desperately crying for more.

You let out an airy laugh, “Is this what you are planning along all this time?”

He answers you with a breathy answer, “Fuck, yes.” He towers over your figure while grinding more onto you, the friction making him bite down his moans and hard with every fraction of time passing by. “You’re the only one I plan on doing this with.”

He pulls away and finally assists you while undressing. To him, you are the most perfect, with your skin glistening with sensual sweat. Taeyong’s eyes were drawn down to the red marks that caressed its way down to your neck, reaching to just below your collarbones. Taeyong always told himself that goddesses were real and he was sure that you’re one of them. You’re a masterpiece that he will always hold with such delicateness.

He pushes your figure down onto his silk sheets. You can feel the cold contact against your flushed skin while Taeyong hovers onto your figure attacking every part of you that his lips could. He sucks onto your neck until those marks turn with a deep chase of purple and blue. You buck your hips against him, firmly to feel him, until you could squeeze out a reaction from him.

Taeyong groans slowly which pushes you more to roll your hips against him. The instinctive reaction of Taeyong was to bite down on your neck a little more harder which earns a sharp gasp from you. There is a rising flame bubbling inside of your abdomen. Two amorous lovers binded by love and lust. He gives out a quick yet quiet apology while returning into his business on marking every spot he sees no shade of lilac or blue. You try to grind onto him shamelessly, again, teasing to test out his patience, yet he already has his hands holding you down to place with his nails digging deep into your hips. You could almost feel his raging boner resting against the flesh of your inner thighs, throbbing.

Swatting away his grip, you immediately sit up to undress him up. Your hands run along his skin, clever, skilled, determined as you stripped off the tank top that clings onto his wrists. The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkens your eyes with a sense of decadent power as the man you really love is sitting before you, almost as naked as you.

In mindless, liberated pleasure, you shove out his gym shorts.

Taeyong’s eyes glimmered in the weak light of his room, as he forced the gym shorts out of him and flung it aside. “You’re driving me insane.”

“I could say that too.”

His mouth begins feasting onto your flesh again, his greedy hands racing over your quivering body in ruthless exploration that got you breathless. Heat pumps throughout your veins; feeling soft and warm, melting into Taeyong’s touch, like one's body.

You let out a gasp when you feel Taeyong’s palm cupping your breasts. His other sinful fingers move against your surging wet heat, relentlessly driving you up to insanity, the need to release is clawing viciously inside your body. Your pussy throbbing with his fingers encircling with your clit in a torturous manner.

Taeyong breathes, “Look at me,” when he sees your eyes fluttering shut. “It’s just you and me. Just us, like always.”

“Always.” The shadows dance around the both of you. Shifting while both of your fingers stroked. The sensation builds after the other, your body trembles, shuddering layers, then it halts when he suddenly withdraws himself letting you on the edge of frustration and want.

“Fuck, Taeyong!”

“God, I can eat you out, alive.”

You breathe, “I could… let you.”

With the expert flick of his hands, he had your pants tugged down along with your panties with a low grunt. Your eyes both lock in a brief second, all smoldering and swimming with intense lust. He clicks his tongue while playfully flicking off your bra.

His hands, as you could note, are kinda calloused, rubbing at your inner thighs and then spreads them widely while exploring a bit of your body. The power of his caress is influenced by boxing that is tantalizing and arousing, his fingertips pressing onto the delicate part of your skin, wandering underneath to give you behind a gentle yet strong cup.

He leans in again to leave out open mouthed kisses on your bare chest. The air around thickens, your breath snagged in your lungs. Your back arches as he takes your breast in his mouth, sucking, teeth scraping erotically over your aching nipple. Then, trailing down to your inner thighs to leave small kisses here and there, then he’ll suck. You writhe against the small exquisite pain, sobbing his name, the wet pulse between your legs is pounding with intense need.

Taeyong dips his head in between your legs, licking the hot, slick, and thick liquid that is dripping from your folds. You immediately let out a moan. He holds you in place, while he relishes on your juices while you suffer at his doings. The vibration whenever he let out a satisfied groan leaves out a tingling sensation to your clit. His tongue finally reaches out to encircle you wanting clit. Waves of ecstasy washes over you, crying out loud at the feeling of sharp sensation of pleasure flowing right at your veins. You try to reach out to anything your hands could get, grip on. You settle for his titanium hair.

“You’re so sweet.”

Whenever he speaks it grazes slightly on the nubs of your walls, which made you arch your back in pleasure. He continues on licking your juices, until he slides a digit in taking you completely by surprise. With his long, slender fingers inside you, the feeling is exceptional, delirious.

He slides his finger in, your folds welcoming him as it grazes and envelops every time he slides another finger. His thumb continues on playing with your clit which his fingers fucks you, knuckle deep without mercy. You immediately cry out in pleasure.

He pumps in a fast pace that has your legs trembling. Your sex is throbbing at his merciless pounding while reaching out to poke out your sweet spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking with your juices. You can feel yourself coming again, as he quicken his pace, you bite down on your lips to ride out the pleasure you are feeling. His thumb busy with your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“I’m coming. F-fuck, Taeyong. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You like that huh?”

“God, y-yes.”

You can feel the hot liquid dripping between your legs. God, your core is still throbbing at the aftermath of his finger fucking, and you still want more.

“Fuck me Taeyong. F-fuck me hard.”

He immediately scrambles to his feet upon your request. Removing his boxers, you could see his dick, with a searing red tip oozing with precum. You are really aroused at the sight of him wrapping his hands around his dick, giving it quick strokes.

“Open for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he mounted you, crushing his mouth into yours as he thrust his dick into you. A sob of pure and overwhelming pleasure eases up your throat. Your walls stretch with him inside. He eases himself, pushing his dick to the extent of your hot walls. Arching, you brought him deeper inside. Your hips move in desperate, greedy time, urging him on.

In that fleeting moment before you both plunged into the roaring darkness, you understood that there will be no room for another man in your mind, in your soul, in your heart. It will always be him, Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong reaches out to stroke a palm down your exquisite curves and hollows that drives him mad all night and day while he reaches his point. You take him well, with him cumming inside you. Both of your breathing are ragged. The weak light illuminating from Taeyong’s lampshade cast your silhouettes. When he leans to press a quick kiss on your lips, two grey shadows molded into one.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

hello, this eaten all the left energy in my body so i hope you guys love this one! :D

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #neohours #lee taeyong #lee taeyong imagines #nct127 #nct #nct u #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 one shot #boxer!au #boxer!taeyong #nct taeyong imagine

465 notes · View notes

snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

Text

summer sizzle | sweet - mjf [m]

[ prompts of choice ]

Honestly... I had a whole ass prompt set chosen for this but the need to write Maxwell as an actual fucking softie took over and I wound up not actually using ANY of the prompts I chose. So. Yeah. This is just an oc, softly getting railed by Maxwell.

[ pairing ]

Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Female!OC, Bianca. You will probably see more out of these two. I enjoyed writing this and maaaybe I’m tempted to do more with them as a result.

[ authors notes ]

I offer no apologies nor do I make any excuses. And the brunt of this was the result of a late night conversation between @unabashedwrestlefics and I last night. So. Yeah. Viv, if you’re reading, I love and blame you partly for this.

[ warning ]

Maxwell written as an actual sweetheart... provided that he actually gives a fuck about someone. Probably gonna piss a few people off but again, idec. I wanted this. I needed it. Smut. Not a condom to even be thought about. Body fluids. Biting. A little dirty talk, but mostly just teeth rotting filthy fluff.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif

@unabashedwrestlefics

@wardl0w

@wrestlingthot

@missjenniferb

@adampage

@cowboyshit

@cabotcoves

[ tag list doc - masterlist - about page ]

MJF & BIANCA, SOFT.

By the time Mox was pinning Maxwell for the 3 count, I was watching the match through my fingers, almost sick to my stomach and definitely dreading what the outcome of this match would most likely spell out.

If there was ever a night for the shoe to drop and the mask to come down, tonight was that night.

I was so sure of it that as soon as Maxwell stepped through the curtains, dried blood caked on his forehead, I’d mentally prepared myself a thousand times over for the tongue lashing of the decade. My eyes darted around but I didn’t see any of the girls I’d gotten to know in my short time working with the company.

I took a deep breath and I tentatively made my way over to him, choosing to keep my mouth shut as I typically do around him. The tension was thicker. I could see the anger brewing in his eyes. I could feel the tension in his body as I wordlessly slipped one of his arms around my shoulders to keep him a little more steady.

“Where the fuck is he?” Maxwell’s anger laced outburst shattered through me being lost in survival mode and I gazed up at him, a brow raised. “Who?” I finally asked.

“Fucking Wardlow. He did that on purpose.” Maxwell scowled and his eyes darted around the crowded hallway, searching for a sign of Wardlow.

As he did this, I took a shaky breath or two, preparing myself for what everyone’s been warning me about for weeks as far as he’s concerned.

Everyone’s so convinced that sooner or later, Maxwell is going to show me his nasty side and I am going to get hurt. I can’t count on both hands the number of times since creative stuck me as his valet upon arrival that I’ve had people pop up and offer condolence, -or protection, should the need arise. I guess I let that all get to me, because I’ve been living on pins and needles for weeks now and honestly?

Maxwell has literally never been anything like people claim he is towards me. I won’t say he’s been overly nice, because he’s just a naturally abrasive guy, but he hasn’t been the cold hearted bastard people write him off to be, either.

If anything, being his valet has been… well, it’s been strange. Because all this stuff people told me about him?

I’ve gotten the exact opposite, from him.

People told me he’d treat me like a toy. That he’d constantly tell me I was below him. That he’d probably wreck my self esteem.

None of that’s happened.

Maxwell spotted Wardlow while I was lost in my own thoughts and fears and before I could stop him, he was shoving through the crowd, catching up to the other man, shoving at him.

“Damn it.” I swore quietly to myself, pushing through the crowd gathered around them as they fought and trying to pull them apart. Every now and then I could hear bits of what was being said in between licks passed and shoves and punches, but it wasn’t enough to know exactly what had the two men fighting other than the fact that for whatever reason, Maxwell seemed convinced that Wardlow purposely cost him the title belt.

What got my attention was when my name came up. Maxwell seemed to be accusing Wardlow of something that had everything to do with me and Wardlow wasn’t bothering to deny it, either.

The whole thing was just… Too much for me, so I slipped away, hoping to just go somewhere quieter and pull myself together. As I rounded the corner, Mox stopped me, an arm beside my head as he stared down at me intently, this shit-eating smirk on his face that had his eyes dancing.

“What?”

“Better brace yourself, kitten. Gonna get the brunt of Maxy’s anger because Wardlow’s done with his shit.” Mox said it calmly, hoisting the belt over his shoulder as he continued to stare me down. I shrank back and bit my lip, trying to come up with any form of rebuttal.

Nothing came.

But it did leave me wondering. What if everyone was wrong about Maxwell? And I wasn’t stupid, I could look into Jon Moxley’s baby blue eyes and know that I was just another way to stick it to Maxwell and that just made me angry. So far, Maxwell had done literally none of the shit everyone kept accusing him of being capable of and literally every single guy back here? Turning out to be the ones who kept their truest selves hidden. Like Mox and his half-assed lazy little warning. Who the fuck did he think he was?

I stood taller, staring up at him in defiance. “So what? Is this you, offering to protect me? I hate to break it to you, Mox but… I don’t need or want your protection. I finish what I start, come whatever may.”

Even with my voice wavering just a little as I spoke, I was still impressed with myself because it was more me, less this unsure and quiet little meek thing I’d allowed myself to become just to tread on eggshells and keep from making waves. I stepped beneath his arm and slunk through the doors leading out into the parking lot, letting the night air hit me and calm me down a little. I pulled myself up onto a brick half wall and sat there, staring up at the night sky as I tried to work through all this confusion in my mind right now. Trying to pick the best path of the two I was currently torn between.

Everybody kept at me about how ruthless and cold and unfeeling Maxwell was. And yet, he hadn’t ever come across as any of those things. But I kept circling back to everyone saying it. Everyone being convinced they were right and they knew exactly what was going to happen to me.

I even had one of the girls in hair and makeup suggest to me that he was dangerous because he knew exactly how to pour on the charm and make you fall for him, but when he was tired, he knew how to turn off that charm and leave you feeling like you were nothing, like you were lost without him.

If it wasn’t at least a little true, I reasoned with myself as I waited on him to walk out of the arena, then why did everyone keep saying it?

By the time I heard the door being thrown open and my name being called,I’d made up my mind… Just keep doing what I’ve been doing for weeks now. Prepare myself for the worst. Keep waiting it out, see what happened in that regard.

He was towering over me and I tore my gaze off the moon and stars above to meet his intent gaze, my eyes searching a little, waiting on Wardlow to pop up like usual.

“Wardlow’s taking his own fucking vehicle tonight.” Maxwell mumbled quietly, gazing at me a few seconds. I nodded and took a deep breath, standing. At this point, I was just tired. I wanted to get to the hotel, get to the privacy of my own room and think. To try to figure out all this internal conflict. To try to figure out why exactly, despite everyone’s repeated warnings over the past few weeks, I still couldn’t deny that for whatever reason, there was this magnetic pull to the guy - and what that said about me if the ride to the hotel went as bad as I was half afraid it would.

Our bodies brushed together and I realized that yet again, we were migrating closer to each other. It happened a lot if I really stopped to think about it. It happened almost as much as the way he always seemed to be where I was. More than once I’d looked up to find him sort of staring at me. He’d always look away first, of course, but I couldn’t deny that I’d caught him looking on more than one occasion.

And then another thought hit me. I liked it.

“We should get going.” Max’s quietly muttered statement shattered through the bit of an epiphany I was currently having and I glanced up, swallowing hard when I found him staring down at me with this look in his eyes.

“It was just a match. Just a leather strap.” I don’t know why I said it, but I felt like maybe he needed to hear it. I tensed a little in the seconds following because I was at least half sure that he’d explode.

Because yes, I was still waiting on the mask to be peeled away and Maxwell to show me this nastier side people seemed to keep reminding me he had. The side I’d seen come to the surface so easily with pretty much everyone else.

“I’m tired and it’s late.” he muttered quietly, his eyes still locked on me. When our bodies bumped against each other all over again, I bit my lip just to keep the unexpected quiet whimper that rose to my throat from coming out. When I couldn’t take the way the tension between us seemed to be growing heavier with each second that passed, making my breath catch in my throat, I spoke up quietly.

“We should get going, Maxwell.”

I reluctantly stepped away a little, everyone’s repeated warnings about the man filling my head. The unease I’d been feeling earlier had lifted slightly and now I was just left with confusion. Tension. My own little pesky thoughts as of the last few minutes.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost swear he pouted slightly when I stepped away. I dug around in my pockets for the keys to his rental car and raised a hand, aiming the key fob in the general direction of the car, unlocking it and starting the engine. Then I turned to him and found myself on the receiving end of another one of those stares.

Which had me fidgeting more than a little, I could feel my thighs starting to slip off of each other. I reached out, prepared to take his gear bag, but he shook his head, slinging it over his shoulder as he fell into step beside me. For the entire walk across the lot, neither of us really said anything.

Like usual, he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. I scoffed at him and shook my head. I tensed in anticipation of a potential argument or him being nasty towards me, but I took a deep breath and eyed the passenger seat and then him as firm as I could.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive when you just went through that.” I muttered as calmly as I could, continuing to hold his gaze.

,, why do you even care?” the thought bubbled to the front of my mind and I shoved it out, choosing to ignore it until later.

I needed to make it to the hotel. To the sanctuary of my own room so I could relax for the night.

Rather than argue, Maxwell sank down into the passenger seat, his head leaning against the headrest, his eyes closing. For the entire ride to the hotel, neither of us really said anything. And the tension that seemed to linger between us almost constantly?

So much heavier.

Not necessarily in a bad way, either.

I pulled the car into the empty space in the third row and I killed the engine, sitting there for a second or two, sort of collecting myself. In that time, Maxwell had gotten out and grabbed not only his gear bag but my bag from the trunk. I was just trying to process. To figure out whether it was safe to relax a little or whether the shit storm was incoming. A gentle rap at the drivers window had me looking up just as Maxwell opened the door on my side, staring down at me.

He held out a hand and I eyed it briefly, letting my eyes dart upward only to be locked on his. Naturally, he wasn’t bothering to say anything, instead, that cocky little smirk played at his lips.

He’s never very talkative with me. It’s weird, it’s almost as if he just doesn’t know what to do or say, so he does and says nothing. And yet, I found myself thinking, maybe that in itself says everything I need to know. My own gut feeling should’ve been enough for me to ignore everyone else’s warnings, but given that I’ve been burned two significant times in the past and whenever I’m around Maxwell, I always feel like I’m seconds away from letting my guard down. Which isn’t a bad thing but given what people keep telling me, I’m fully aware that it could backfire and be the thing that hurts me in the long run.

I don’t enjoy being a bundle of raw nerves around the guy. I want to be able to fully give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to relax. I’m just so afraid to do so until I can’t around him a lot of the time.

I blew at the shaggy strands falling into my eyes and tentatively, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. He pulled me up and out of the car seat. He pulled me with such a force that our bodies collided and his arm shot out, wrapping around me, hauling me closer as he continued to just silently stare down at me. And if the look in his eyes was anything to go by and I were a lot more… Hopeful… I’d almost swear that he intentionally pulled me closer. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was staring at or why he was always doing it but I didn’t dare.

If I thought my thighs were slipping off of each other before, it was nothing compared to right now, the literal flood taking place in my panties at the look in his eyes. My breath caught a little in my throat and I managed a nod towards the hotel.

“Standing here isn’t getting us in.” Maxwell muttered the words quietly just as I was about to say them and I nodded in a daze, still trying to tear my eyes out of his. Neither of us had stepped away from the other. And that tension lingering between us?

Almost at a boiling point.

“It’s not.” I managed a quiet laugh as I finally tore my eyes off him and reached for my things. He shook his head. I didn’t want to argue, so I fell in step beside him quietly, the two of us body to body in the doorway leading into the hotel when he held the door open for me and I went to step inside at the same time as him. I gulped and found my eyes focusing on his mouth and despite all my best efforts, I stared for a good second or two.

From behind us, Jericho’s throat cleared and this only made me step closer to Maxwell and it hit me then.

I do that a lot. If someone comes up and I don’t feel comfortable? I find myself migrating closer to him.

I felt the warmth of his hand lingering at my lower back, fingers grazing right against bare skin and I felt a wave of heat rushing to my cheeks. Normally, he just kind of puts his hand there.

“Are you two going to move or stand there all night?” Jericho’s voice broke through our moment and I glanced over Maxwell’s shoulder, scowling at the man. Maxwell’s hand left my back and he whirled around, squaring up almost, a quiet growl slipping out as every single part of him tensed up.

“Max.” I mumbled his name cautiously. I was still very much trying not to rile him up.

“Just a minute, Bianca.” Maxwell grumbled, his gaze fixed firmly on Jericho. I rolled my eyes and reached out, tapping at his shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back just to be safe.

“I think you should probably listen to your pretty little valet, Friedman. This is a fight you don’t wanna start. Take your bruised ego and move it out of my way.” Jericho smirked as he said it and I tensed up all over again. Maxwell’s gaze flitted back and forth between me and Jericho for seconds that felt like years, anger flashing in his eyes almost dangerously until they settled on me. He took a deep breath and shoved at Jericho a little, muttering quietly, “I didn’t say you could talk to her, did I?”

“Maxwell. For the love of ten thousand fucks, the line.” I stopped mid sentence, giving Jericho my best hateful glare when my eyes met his and I found him staring at me like I was a piece of meat. “Jericho, if you don’t want a stiletto to the eyeball, I’d suggest you stop looking at me in that tone.” I snapped, biting my lip as I was quick to pull my gaze off the old creep and fix it back on Maxwell, nodding to the reception desk. “Line. Now.”

With one last lingering angry glare, Maxwell turned away from Jericho and we started to walk towards the line, falling into the end of it. I shuffled my feet and when he chuckled quietly, I glanced up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Maxwell shook his head and went silent again. The line was getting shorter and I could feel myself relaxing a little more with each second that passed because it meant that I was closer to being in the sanctuary of my own room.

Where I could decompress, finally.

I had a lot to think about.

I took to scrolling through my Instagram account and a time or two, I felt his eyes on me. I rolled my eyes at the comments on a bikini pic I’d posted at a family barbecue the last time I’d been home and grumbled under my breath at an ex who’d slithered himself into my dms.

I felt Maxwell tense up beside me and after shoving my phone back into the pocket of my leopard print jacket, I glanced up at him, quickly looking away again when I saw the look in his eyes and I felt my cheeks starting to burn hot all over again. I shuffled my feet and squeezed my thighs together slightly but it didn’t help.

It was our turn at the check in desk now.

“A double?” the clerk flashed a smile at Maxwell and I. Honestly, I figured this would be the part where Maxwell made some cutting remark and demanded his own room, but to my surprise, he chuckled and dug into the sweats he was wearing to produce his wallet, passing it through the plastic barrier between our side of the desk and the other side.

I kept waiting on him to correct the assumption, but he never did. And for some reason, whenever I went to speak up and do so, my mouth refused to cooperate with my brain and make the words form.

As soon as the paperwork was filed and the clerk was handing us back our identification and Maxwell his wallet, I found myself gazing up at him, puzzled.

He bit his lip and stared down at me intently.

“That was okay, right?” he finally asked the question a good ten seconds later when we were standing in front of the elevator.

,, oh sure, sure. I’m fine, this is fine.” I thought to myself as the tension I thought I’d be getting rid of the second I was behind the doors of my own hotel room returned with a vengeance. Rather than argue, because I was still tiptoeing around him very much so at this point, I took a deep breath, gave him my best calm smirk and nodded.

Like a good girl.

Not rocking the boat, not making any waves.

But now, on top of everything else on my mind, I had yet another new thing to unravel… If everyone says he’s such a cold and heartless bastard, why in the hell would he take every opportunity he could get to be around me?

Because this has happened once before.

And yes, it was one hell of an intense weekend. I spent most of it down at the hotel pool or the hotel bar, just so I felt like I could breathe a little.

Because damn if being around the man almost constantly didn’t leave me breathless and so full of tension I thought I’d explode at any second.

The elevator doors slid open and I hurried on, leaning against the wall in the back. Maxwell stopped beside me, leaning in a little. “You know if you didn’t want to share a room, you could’ve said something.”

His voice was quiet, almost teasing. Almost as if he were amused by this. I’d been scrolling through my phone again and without looking up, I couldn’t, because God if I did, he was going to see the way my cheeks were burning bright red right now, I shrugged a little. “If I didn’t want to, you’d know it.”

The fact that when I said it it was 1000 percent true and I didn’t even realize it until I said it had my mind blown.

“Interesting.” he mumbled, mostly to himself. I scrolled through my Instagram feed again, trying to focus on anything but the night ahead. Or the tension between us that was now so thick that I felt like at any second, either one of us was going to explode.

The elevator squeaked and slowed to a death crawl and at one point, it lurched just a little, sending me into Maxwell’s side as I tensed on impact. “What the actual fucking..” I whined a little, eyes widening in panic at just the thought of now being trapped on an elevator.

“It’s just an elevator.”

His voice was calming, his breath tickling the shell of my ear and serving to make me almost painfully aware of the fact that I was pressed completely into his side and he’d slipped an arm around me to keep me there. “I realize that, but I need you to understand it’s called claustrophobia, sir.” I muttered the words in a daze, my gaze settling on him.

“That’s it. Keep lookin at me.” his voice was softer, an almost lazy drawl as he spoke. Neither one of us was making an effort to look away, god knows I tried. Somehow, just realizing that I’d fallen for the guy and people had warned me about him repeatedly just made me feel uneasy when he’d never shown me any actual reason to.

I gulped and nodded, my breathing syncing with his and I started to feel a little calmer. The elevator roared to life again and I relaxed a little, my shoulders slumping as I did so.

“Thank fuck.” I muttered quietly, making him chuckle a little as he reached up and brushed some hair out of my eyes, smoothing it behind my ear, giving a satisfied nod as he did so.

It felt like an eternity between the elevator starting back up again and when we finally reached our floor, but the doors finally slid open and I hurried off, stopping to wait on him.

He caught up just as I found the door to our hotel room and started to dig around in my pockets for the keycard and he tapped my shoulder.

I whirled around so fast that I catapulted myself right against him and before I could stop myself, a quiet whimper slipped out of my mouth. My eyes lingered on his lips and I took a shaky breath before forcing myself to look up and lock eyes with him. He was already staring at me, hints of an amused gleam in his eyes as he licked his lips slowly.

If I thought I had my thighs clenched before, they clenched so tight this time that I felt a dull ache starting to build.

“What?” my question came out quietly and he bit his lip and shook his head, again saying nothing. He took the keycard from my trembling hand and slid it through the card reader, pushing the door open as soon as the little light turned green and buzzed.

I stepped in, dropping my bags on the second bed and immediately shedding my shoes then flopping back first onto the bed, my eyes fluttering shut as I took a few seconds to attempt to decompress.

Tonight had been a lot. All I wanted was to try and fall asleep now that I was starting to realize that whatever explosion I’d been waiting on Maxwell to have apparently wasn’t coming.

Maxwell spoke up, shattering the silence in the room.

“Are you always this tense? Or is it me?”

I rose up slightly, propping on my elbows and staring at him a few seconds, completely unsure of how best to answer.

I felt really, really bad, because there was just something soft and quiet in his voice when he asked the question. And he wasn’t really looking at me, either, his gaze fixed intently on his hands instead. It was nothing like the strong and self assured guy the world saw on television. And if it hadn’t been for the weeks of literally everyone seeing fit to shove warning after warning about the guy down my throat constantly, I would’ve felt even worse.

I’d been tense, I’d been dancing and tiptoeing around him because I didn’t want to see that side of him. God knows I saw enough of that in an ex or two. I’d been holding my breath and waiting on him to be just like everyone said.. Or like those exes that I let my guard down for and I only ended up getting hurt by them.

As it all sank in, I shook my head, laughing at myself softly. If anything, this was not how I’d seen tonight turning out.

“ It’s not so much you as the shit everyone keeps saying. And the magnetic pull I keep trying to fight where you’re concerned...” I admitted quietly as I stood, starting to pace. Starting to ramble. Everything was spilling out of me because I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t keep going like this. “Everybody keeps telling me that you’re eventually gonna snap or worse, you’re gonna go cold towards me when the novelty of having a valet wears off and damn it, I just… I can’t deal with that happening. I’m afraid that you’re going to turn into my ex. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down, if I…”

He was watching me now and I could tell he was processing what I was saying. When I went quiet, he took a deep breath. “If you what?”

“If I let myself go ahead and fall for you, I’m only going to get burned all over again. And this time, it’ll be so much worse because this time, I’ll know it was the real thing and somehow, I wasn’t enough.”

I sank back down on my bed and let out a ragged breath, raising my hand to my forehead as I gave a quiet laugh. “The funny part of all this is it’s too fucking late. I did anyway and I’m just so goddamn tired of fighting it. Of spending second after second reminding myself that everyone keeps telling me you will hurt me. You will turn some hidden nasty side, that people seem to think you possess, on me. And I’m realizing now that you’ve pretty much shown that side with other people. But never with me.”

I kept my eyes closed as soon as I finished talking. Looking up at him was not an option, not for me, not at this particular moment. I kept waiting on laughter or some kind of cutting remark, the things I know he’s capable of and the things that I’m used to seeing from him with everybody else we know but nothing came.

He kept sitting there, silent and staring at his hands. Until he wasn’t. I sighed and stood, gathering my things to go and take a shower. Honestly, I thought that if I just got out of the room then maybe I could distance myself from the outburst I’d just had and the fact that his lack of a reaction did sting just a little. I thought that if I took a long and hot soak, I could get rid of some of this tension built up inside me.

I reached for the handle on the door to the on-suite bathroom and my breath caught in my throat, escaping in a quiet hiss as his chest pressed against my back and his hand covered mine over the handle. I turned around and my back connected with the door in a soft smack. For at least five seconds, all I could really do was stare up at him. He was staring right back, neither of us were saying anything.

“So that’s it. You tell a guy you’re falling in love with him and then you go hide in the bathroom?” a teasing smirk played at his lips and I gulped as I felt his hips really press into mine, the handle of the bathroom door digging into my lower back softly.

That didn’t last for long because while I was distracted by the way it felt to have that hard,muscular frame pressed so close to me and by the way I just wanted to raise to tiptoe and tug at his scarf to pull his mouth down to meet mine, I missed the way that his hand slipped between my lower back and the door. But as soon as I realized it, I whimpered quietly and despite trying desperately to control myself and keep at least a little bit of my guard up, I found myself pressing into him, our bodies rubbing together lightly. His other hand glided over my curves, going still at the hip as he dug fingertips into my skin lightly.

When he exhaled, it was shakier. When I found myself rubbing against him all over again, he groaned quietly, his mouth opening and closing like he was just about to say something but he backed out at the last second.

Fitting, because I’d be damned if I knew what to say at the moment, all things considered. All I did know was that the urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe was doubling, no, tripling by the second and it was getting so that I was fidgeting a little in a last ditch attempt to keep from doing so on a whim.

One of us had to cave, to do or say something. I was determined that it wasn’t going to be me. Because every single time I’ve caved in the past, it hasn’t gone well for me. His forehead rested against mine gingerly and the hand on my hip raised, resting against the side of my face and he chuckled quietly.

“You realize if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have demanded you as my valet… Right? I had to do something, they were going to put you with Mox. One of those other assholes.” his mouth brushed right against mine as he went quiet and I didn’t think, I just reacted. My hand caught on the side of his face, steering his mouth right back against mine and my other hand caught in his hair, giving a little tug. He pulled back, staring at me a second or two and shook his head, raising a finger to my lip when I went to speak. “I don’t waste my time. When I want someone, I want them.” filled the silence and sent the last of the tension I felt scattering and he was pressing into me with more urgence now, his hand against the side of my face as he leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine, his body rubbing against mine and making me whimper into the kiss as his tongue pushed between my lips, parting the barrier they formed to tangle with mine.

The kiss broke, and we pulled back from each other to breathe, Maxwell staring down at me with this wild fire burning in his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, the ragged rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took making it crystal clear that he was well past worked up if that weren’t already obvious to me before.

His hands caught on either side of my face as his forehead settled against mine and he stared down into my eyes. If I thought either one of us had a chance to properly catch our breath I was wrong because just when I caught my breath, his lips latched onto my lower lip all over again, nipping hungrily. “I mean that.” he muttered in a harsh intake just before his tongue slipped between my lips all over again, “ I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

I could feel his cock really starting to strain at the sweats he was wearing and I whimpered as he kept bucking himself against me and his mouth strayed from mine to wander right down the front of my throat. The hand resting against my cheek lowered to rest against the side of my neck, holding it still as the blunt of his teeth caught on my skin, littering it with little bite marks. “Fuck.” he breathed against my skin, the roughness of his lips and the warmth of his breath tickling the surface as he pressed me into the door even harder. “Do you not feel exactly what you’re doing to me right now, princess?” his hips snapped against me and I rubbed myself against the growing bulge strained at his sweats, my hand lowering and my fingers catching in the waistband.

He sucked in a ragged breath and bit his lip, a shiver racing through his body when I stepped away from the door and completely against him. With each step I took forward, he inched closer to his bed until the backs of his knees brushed against the thick mattress and when that happened, he sank down to sit on the edge and I lowered myself, settling in his lap, taking his face in my hand as my lips latched onto his all over again and I started to rock myself back and forth over the bulge strained at his sweats until I heard him whimpering even more and I could feel him bucking up into me from below.

His hand slipped up the hem of the little black dress and settled palm down against my throbbing core as he started to rub my lace covered crotch. My head fell back slightly, giving him access to my neck. He took the opportunity to his advantage, pulling me in as close as he could get me, latching onto my skin almost needy when he did it. The whimper that left his mouth and dissolved against my skin sent a shiver racing through me and I rocked myself down harder against the hefty bulge, earning me a needy whine from him as his fingers dug into my hips and he pressed me down harder, took control of the movement of my hips. It sent that dull ache building between my thighs to an almost blind throbbing pain.

His mouth trailed down my neck and one of his hands raised, the thin strap of the little black dress snapping under the weight of the tug from Maxwell’s fingertips and almost the instant the strap to my dress was no longer an issue, Maxwell was latching onto the neckline with his teeth, tugging it downward, revealing bare breasts.

He backed away and took several shaky breaths, his eyes roaming slowly and that smirk on his face just before he lowered his head, resting his forehead against the tops of my breasts. I clung to him and gripped his shoulders tighter while baring down against his lap as soon as I felt the way his teeth softly grazed against exposed skin and it had me shivering and whining almost helplessly.

I wanted his mouth on mine again. I needed him to kiss me. I reached down and tilted his chin, lust hazed brown eyes locking on mine as soon as we locked eyes and when I crashed my mouth against his, he deepened the kiss, bucking himself into me all over again from below. Harder.

One of his hands disappeared up the hem of my dress and I heard the quiet tear of fabric. Lace panties came away torn in his hand and he growled against my mouth as soon as he felt how wet I was already.

My hand slipped down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats all over again and I felt his abdomen tense as he took a deep breath and grabbed hold of my face, pulling my mouth against his all over again, greedily. His left hand lowered, disappearing beneath the dress, thick digits carefully working me open as his thumb struck against my clit, rubbing. “How’s that feel, hm?” the warmth of his breath against my skin as he mumbled against it had me whimpering and rocking myself against his fingers.

“Mmf.. Ah..” I whimpered as the ache began to intensify and all I could do was keep on meeting the scissoring thrusts of the fingers buried deep inside my dripping pussy and hope that took away some of it. “Feels so.. Fuck!” I cried out as I felt his fingers strike against my spot, sending tension through my body just to try and keep my rapidly approaching orgasm at bay. He chuckled as his mouth found mine again, teeth digging into tender and kiss swollen lips.

The more I moaned, the deeper inside me his fingers sank, stretching me out, the wet sounds making me both self conscious and almost a feral level of horny. It seemed to be doing the same for him because he growled against my skin as his mouth caught hold of my nipple, teeth latching on, his tongue dragging over the surface slowly until it stood erect, aching at the torture.

“Max!” the moan that came out of me shattered through the soft silence, echoing, making his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as he continued to lick and suck my tits, bucking himself against me from below while his fingers pumped in and out of my dripping heat. “That’s it, princess. C’mon. You can get louder.” he muttered soft against my skin, raising goosebumps to the surface and making me whine and beg.

The more I whined and begged, the slower he seemed to go until I was shaking with each thrust of his fingers or slow drag of his tongue over my nipples. A glance down at my chest showed hickies littering every strip of skin he’d been able to get his mouth on and I bit my lip just to keep from screaming his name out loud, a needy moan escaping instead. “Maxwell, c’mon. I need you. Now.” I grabbed hold of his face again, my mouth diving down against his as I begged and kept rocking myself over the bulge strained at his sweats and against nimble and fast moving fingers as they fucked into me, striking against my spot and sending shivers dancing through my body.

I tried tugging at the waistband of his sweats again and this time, he obliged, drawing his fingers out of my cunt and lifting me a little, working the sweats down his hips and letting them pool at his feet on the floor of the hotel room. I whined as my eyes settled on his thick length, standing at attention and I swallowed hard. Maxwell pushed up the little black dress over my hips and then lowered me down, his cock splitting me in two, stretching me out and filling me up.

“You need me now, hm?” he questioned, his mouth crashing against mine needy, slow and deep. I got the sense that he needed to hear me say it. That he needed to hear me say everything I felt, actually. With a whimper as he started to fuck into me from below, slowly at first, I grabbed his face in my hands, pulling his mouth back against mine all over again, my lips crashing against his in the neediest kiss I could manage. “Feels so good. So good.” I encouraged, my hips rocking back and forth, making him dig his fingertips into my bare ass, squeezing harder with each deep drive into my pussy.

My head fell back as I rode him faster and he raised a hand, tangling it in my hair, pulling my mouth against his, our teeth scraping and bumping together as his tongue rushed past my parted lips and tangled with mine. My legs circled his waist and the new angle had his hips stammering as he slowed down, pressing hot little kisses and nips against my face and throat, his forehead against mine and our faces so close that whenever he quietly muttered “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.” and gave a quiet chuckle, his lips brushed against mine and I whimpered, rocking my hips against his shaky thrust and responded quietly, “Why?”

“Because you got to me and that literally never happens. And now I have you and I…” he trailed off and although I wanted to push for him to say more, I got the feeling that it was hard for him.

To my surprise, after a few gentle biting kisses trailing down the side of my neck and across the tops of my breasts, he raised his head and met my gaze again, capturing my mouth in a deep and needy kiss as he groaned out, “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep from losing you. You have me.” he emphasized his words with an even deeper drive into my dripping cunt, immediately bottoming out and pushing me even closer to an orgasm that I was only barely holding back from having, his hips snapping upward, his cock striking my g-spot over and over as he bottomed out and his hands roamed all over my body gently cupping and squeezing, touching me anywhere he could get his hands on me.

“Ah fuck! Bianca.” Maxwell’s growled words echoed off the walls and he pulled me against him tighter, his mouth latching onto mine in a deep and needy, bruising kiss. My lips were aching and swollen now, I could feel it. “Maxwell, please. I’m so close.” I whimpered, tears starting to sting at my eyes because I simply couldn’t hold off anymore.

“C’mon, princess. Use me. Get off.” Maxwell’s head fell back as he continued to slam into me from below, his fingers digging into my asscheeks deeper, squeezing. “Can’t wait to feel you get my cock wet, baby.” his words were a quiet groan against the shell of my ear, his heavy breathing merging with mine as I started to bounce myself up and down on his cock faster. Deeper. He met each bounce eagerly.

My orgasm shattered through me, leaving me shaky and light-headed but Maxwell kept pumping me up and down on his cock, determined to fuck me right through it and nearly into another one because it all felt so good. Too good. Too much. I almost couldn’t think straight. I latched my lips onto his neck and he groaned quietly, his hips stammering as he slowed down a little and tilted my chin so that i had to look him in the eye, pulling my mouth against his all over again in a lingering and tender kiss as he muttered lazily against my lips that he was getting close and he didn’t want to stop. I gave a helpless and needy whine, nodding my head, begging him not to stop, my pussy still tightly clenched around his cock. “So close, ah.. Fuck. Are you ready, princess?”

“Please?” I begged in a breathy moan, clinging to him as dots danced in front of my eyes and I tried and failed a time or two at actually catching my breath and calming down. I could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth of his seed settling inside, coating me as the excess slowly leaked out. He fell back against the bed and pulled me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me tight as he buried his nose in the crown of my hair, taking a few long and deep breaths, his cock still buried inside me as we lie there.

“I don’t want to move.” he mumbled quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Just wanna stay exactly like this.”

“Me either.” I yawned lazily, my lips pressing against the side of his neck. I rose up a little to stare down at him and he leaned into my face, his lips feathering against mine as he muttered quietly, “You know I meant all of it… Right?”

I nodded, giving a soft smile as I deepened the kiss. “You don’t say things you don’t mean, remember?”

He chuckled quietly, pulling me back down against him, his hand smoothing over my back, toying with my hair.

#mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #mjf fanfiction #mjf fanfic #mjf oneshot #mjf imagine #mjf imagines #mjf smut #mjf one shot #//18+ only #// smut tw #// body fluids tw #// unprotected s*x tw

119 notes · View notes

actuallybarb · 4 years ago

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 4

Summary: y/n gets a card from happy hogan and vomits on the side of the road after telling off brad in the middle of an airport

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio is the worst, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 1741

A/N: i know it’s reader insert but i’m emotionally attached to y/n... so, me

//////////

Let me tell you, getting lava to come out of the bottom of the Thames was pretty much the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. And I thought Italy was bad.

Beck had a drone on standby, waiting to shoot me should I suddenly decide I’d rather die than destroy London.

I started destroying London.

It wasn’t easy. Beck told me I had to use all four elements to make it convincing, and it took all of my concentration. Listen, I’m damn good. I can make buildings crumble, I can make airplanes stop shaking in mid air, I know what the hell I’m doing. But all four elements at once? Let’s just say I’ll have a migraine for days.

I positioned myself at the very top of the monster so I could see what I was doing. I tried to do as much damage with as few casualties as possible, but I had to perform—Beck was watching.

I was waiting for Mysterio to come out and save the day, as planned, but then a red and blue blur dropped from the sky.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I smiled, a full-blown smile. Beck had announced at the top of his lungs that he had killed Spider-Man. I didn’t take it well. I mean, what do you expect? I’d known Peter for a full year of school, and I was actually starting to call him a friend (to myself, of course, I’d let him admit that first) and then Beck just had to go ahead and drop that bomb on me.

Peter dove into the water and —

Oh shit he thinks this is a projection.

I hollowed out the middle of my monster and pulled him all the way up to my makeshift platform. Then his jaw dropped when he saw me.

“Y/N!”

I punched him in the shoulder. “I thought you were dead!”

“You’re working with Mysterio?”

“No, fuck him, he’s forcing me to do this.” I knocked some people off of the sidewalk and into the Thames. “He said he’d kill my family if I didn’t do what he said.”

Peter was gaping at me. “You’re the Avatar!”

I groaned. “Peter! You’re missing the point! I’m being forced to destroy London until you can kick Mysterio’s ass.”

He sobered up quickly. In complete honesty, he looked like shit. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheek was scrapped, and he was standing heavily to one side. Shit, just like I said. “Where is he?”

I thrust my chin toward Tower Bridge as I let my sludgy fist come down on a coffee shop. So much wasted espresso.

I had been at it for an hour, maybe two, when Peter shot some webs into the air without swinging from them. I took that as my cue to cool it, and I let the lava sink back to the Earth’s core. The Thames happily returned to normal, and I deposited myself on the uneven cobblestones by the Tower of London. The moment I touched down MJ ran past me with a weapon in hand, straight for the bridge. Odd.

“Was - was that monster thing... you?” Flash’s camera was pointed at me. I wanted to take his phone and chuck it straight into the filthy water, but all I did was look at him tiredly.

“We’re all just full of secrets, aren’t we Eugene?”

“You okay, kid?” A man with a goatee was with Ned and Betty and he looked vaguely familiar.

“Dead on my feet,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Let’s get back to your class.”

I would’ve fallen flat on my face if Flash hadn’t stepped forward and wrapped an arm around me. “Thanks,” I mumbled as I wrapped my own arm around his shoulders. “Where did everyone think I went?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Harrington said he got an email from your mom saying you weren’t feeling well, so you were gonna stay behind in Prague with some family then fly home. Everyone else was really skeptical, especially ‘cause Peter used the same excuse, but it’s not like we could do anything.” We slowly made our way back to the rest of the class. “Good luck explaining to Harrington how you’re back.”

“Think he’ll believe the truth?”

Flash’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s the truth?”

“I was kidnapped by Mysterio and he made me turn into an Elemental so he could become the new Tony Stark.”

I wish I could’ve told him I was making it up. I wish I could’ve made myself believe I was making it up. But I wasn’t. Reality really is shit.

Flash just chuckled half heartedly. “No. But that doesn’t mean he won’t let you go back with us anyway.”

We rejoined the class eventually, Peter still missing, but MJ quickly joined my other side and whispered in my ear, “I just kissed Peter.”

My eyes widened and I whispered back, “Holy shit that’s awesome,” but my heart wasn’t in it.

They’re really cute, and obviously happy. But I was starting to get attached to him. And now he couldn’t be mine. Not that he was to begin with, but a small part of me was hopeful.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Harrington’s exclamation could be heard over all of the class, so they all turned their heads to look at me. Joy.

“Yeah, turns out my connecting flight was the same as yours. Crazy how that works out, right?”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Okay, let’s all get back to the airport, we still have a flight to catch.”

The rest of them started migrating, but I stuck back. I don’t have a ticket. I can’t get on a plane without a ticket.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” It was the same familiar guy from before.

“I- I don’t have a ticket. M- Mysterio was the one who got me here, and I never thought so far as a way home, and-“ I was on the verge of tears, and before I could object, his arms were wrapped around me and he was patting my back softly.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I-“

But he was interrupted by none other than Spider-Man himself.

“Happy, hey- Y/N?”

Before I could really stop myself I launched myself into Peter’s arms and hugged him tightly. “God, he told me you were dead.”

His arms eventually reciprocated the level of tightness I was giving out. “It wasn’t a fun time for me, either.”

I let go eventually, mostly because I was starting to lose the feeling in my arms. I couldn’t even really say anything without tears getting in the way so I just stood there, awkwardly, sniffling.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” It was the guy, Happy, that suggested it. “Tickets, then showers, then clothes, then sleep. Both of you.”

“I could sleep for a lifetime,” I mumbled.

I don’t remember much else. I ended up between Flash and Brad, which wasn’t too bad considering Flash has comfy shoulders and the more I slept the longer I could ignore Brad. I kind of figured it was inevitable, Brad stopping me to finally have a talk, but I was hoping to avoid it.

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve tried to be nice to you, and all you’ve ever done in return is throw it back in my face.”

“Can we not do this right now, Brad? Or ever, for that matter?”

“No.” He grabbed my arm as I tried walking away. “I deserve an answer.”

I was exhausted. I was pissed. My mind was not in a good state. And I may have felt how real Brad was, but that didn’t stop my skin from crawling when his hand grabbed me.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I don’t owe you shit. Just because you deserve an explanation doesn’t mean I have to give you one.”

“You’re a first rate bitch, you know that?”

“And he finally drops the nice guy facade.” I probably shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, but I was not in the best state, mentally. Despite that little voice in the back of my head, I took a step closer and nearly bumped chests with him. “You’ve been trying to keep up this act so they can accept you, but you’re doing a real shit job at hiding the fact that you believe you’re just a scared twelve year old to these people. You’ve been letting their opinions about you control your life and it’s exhausting.”

“Like you’re any better.”

I took a step back and a deep breath. “If I let their opinions of me control my life I would’ve been dead a long time ago.” I shrugged. “I know what I am to them, and there’s nothing to change it. But that doesn’t mean I have to seek their approval. They’ve already made their decision about who I am - I have my whole life to make mine.” I shoved past him and finally made it out of the airport, just in time to see Peter give MJ a small peck before going to his aunt. Another punch to the gut. Reality: 1, Y/N: 0.

“Y/N! Sweetheart! We were so worried.” My parents, bless their souls, ran up to me and wrapped me in their arms. I would’ve burst into tears right there if Happy didn’t make eye contact with me and hand me a business card behind their backs. He lifted his hand to his ear and mouthed, ‘call me,’ to which I nodded simply for lack of a better response. “Let’s get you home,” they insisted. I was ushered into the car and driven straight home, but I didn’t hear a word they said.

My own parents don’t know what I can do. I could’ve died and they would never know I had abilities.

Holy shit.

I could have died.

“Stop the car.”

Dad looked back in concern. “Y/N, are you okay?” Of course I wasn’t okay, I was asking you to stop the car in the middle of the freeway.

“Dad, stop the car, I’m gonna be sick.”

He pulled over and I jumped out and emptied the trashy airplane food from my system. How could it be legal to serve that to people?

“Y/N?” Mom put a hand on my back and I almost lost it again. “Let’s get home and we’ll talk. Okay?”

Wow, did we have a lot to talk about.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

31 notes · View notes

mcrmadness · 4 years ago

Note

Hey friend! This isn't part of any ask game but I was thinking about it so I'm asking anyways :D out of Bela and Farin whose solo music do you like better? And which is your favourite solo song of each?

Hi!!!

I like Farin’s solo stuff more, definitely. And I actually like FU stuff much more than even FURT, Am Ende der Sonne being my favorite solo album of his (and it’s also the go-to album for me whenever I feel angry). I am also extremely fond of Berliner Schule.

Fun fact: It took very long for Fasztination Weltraum to open for me, I really liked “Herz? Verloren!” and its B-sides so when I finally got the full album to my hands, it was a bit of a turn-off and I was almost disappointed with it. Had to listen to it so many times in order to warm up and I still think it’s probably the worst FU/FURT album so far. There’s some gems ("iDisco", for example) in there but everything else is so... basic? Like, they just don’t make me feel almost anything at all. Not positive nor negative. Just nothing. (And pretty much the same happened with Farin’s songs on HELL apart from maybe like 1-2 songs...)

From Bela’s solo stuff I own the 1st and 2nd albums on cd and they’re okay. I liked Code B more than Bingo as there’s lots of skipping to do (for me), too. I think when his third album (and also the rest) came out, I was in the middle of my “not on the mood for any new music” so I did not check out any bands or artists I like no matter how many new albums would have come out so I never did that with bela's albums either. I did watch some music videos but I just didn’t like them at all (and the album name, I think it’s “Bye”? It gave me again even more anxiety than what I had of my own that year.) because honestly, country music is just not my thing. There’s a few music styles I just absolutely cannot stand and they are: schlager, rap/hip hop and country. Even if I'm a horse groom myself, I still cannot stand country music! :DDD

And about his later solo projects I don’t even have a clue what are those or how many albums he has even done. I probably should give them a try one day but I still haven’t had the motivation nor mood for that. I’m sometimes really bad at doing this. I mean, I meant to check out King Køng for YEARS and I did that only this year. And talking of King Køng, that’s not really my cup of tea. There were some okay songs but I have to say that “No More” sounds much better when it’s in the middle of those die ärzte interviews, and it’s actually a very anticlimatic song when you hear it as a whole between all those other songs on the album. I guess I have to listen to these albums a couple of times more still, but let’s just say that I was listening to these while I was drawing and the 3rd album got eventually so boring for me that I had to quit listening to it before it even ended because I was getting way too restless and needed something faster to go with my drawing in order to keep myself focused and from becoming (mentally) hyperactive.

^Here's that part of my collection so far. (Btw I have never listened to FURT's Livealbum of Death despite owning it, idk why. I also don't have FURT's live dvd because I just would not be able to focus on that. I sometimes have trouble even focusing on dä live dvds and other concert videos but those I at least have watched all, and most of them at least once as a whole without skipping.)

***

And then the other part of your question - my favorite song from both.

Pudelsong from FU!!!

youtube

I also love songs like Dusche, or Karten. Both also have awesome lyrics (Farin's one of the rare people who writes lyrics even I can sometimes understand), I think Dusche was the first I saw with English translation and holy shit that is just genius and I still can't get over it :DDD I love surrealistic humour and stuff like that, idek how to call that really! But I like it. And Karten is quite relatable sometimes and the instrumental solo is just amazing. I also like the story in Die Leiche, I've just always been drawn to "creepy tragic stories that won't really explain themselves" like that, same with the song Schatten from Berliner Schule. It's just weird that I'm drawn to such lyrics/stories when I absolutely hate any kind of poetic "oh try and interpret me" lyrics because I don't want to fucking guess anything, I want to KNOW. But then I do love a good mystery if it has something to do with death or murder ::D

---

And from Bela I think Wiehr Thind Ssuper is my favorite? At some point I used to think that Zappingsong was my fave but I just listened to it and not anymore? Anyway - that beeping in the beginning has also been somewhere else, maybe in a video game or so and it always makes me think of this song. From Code B my fave song is Schwarz/Weiss. I've no clue about the lyrics in any of his songs so we're going soundwise here now.

And then I have to mention Tag mit Schutzumschlag (thanks I can never write that name down without looking it up from somewhere first) because when I saw the video for the first time ever, the little Tim Burton fangirl in me got loose:

youtube

Mainly because my FAVORITE SONG (or scene) from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie/soundtrack is the Mike Teavee song and one part of Bela's video is made to happen in the same room/scene :D They've also recreated some scenes and character designs so well from the Burton movie.

Lol my answer got a bit long again but did you really expect anything else from me? XD

#septicace #answered asks #farin urlaub #fu/furt #bela b

7 notes · View notes

rnegitsune · 4 years ago

Text

Ok so I thought I'd put together some horror stories from my time as a babymetal fan bc of how drastic the shift in the fandom has been the past year or so. For context I got into babymetal in like june of 2014 (all 3 girls were still underage at the time, I was 22; when I first got into them I thought I would be considered an older fan lmao the naivete, the innocence of new fan me wow I know now I'm not at all in the older half of the fandom esp considering I was born the same decade as su and moa), and I made this blog in I think may of 2015.

I've had people say I should compile men being gross into a post and I just couldn't do that out of fear for my own mental health but this will be pretty close. These are all my experiences with this fandom over the years; I'm definitely missing some but what I do remember should do well to cover most of how this fandom used to be vs now. It's gonna be a lot and tw for men being gross about minors.

Back in my first year or so of this blog I on multiple occasions got dms from men asking to be friends. At the time my bio only said my name and my pronouns. I've always been cautious of dms so I'd ask their age and every single one was considerably older than me. I wouldn't usually answer after that bc no thanks but they would generally try to continue convos til I blocked. The only one I still had was this one

After I put my age in my bio, which was 23 at the time, I never got a dm like that again; take from that what you will. But if you're young please be wary of this hell fandom even now. And if you're an older fan and esp an older male fan reading this, don't dm people trying to be friends. I was over 18 and it still creeped me out to no end.

One of my real first men in this fandom are disgusting moments was a blog back in like 2015 or 2016 who I had some contact with due to common interests; he was a huge yui stan and made bm content. He was like 28 or 29 at the time and I eventually noticed he would tag idols, mostly kpop girls, by their body parts (legs, butt, etc) which is disgusting enough as it is but then I saw him do the same for literal minors, like tzuyu from twice. I messaged him asking what the hell he was doing objectifying women but also actual children and he blocked me lmao. He later unblocked me to let me know that's just how he tagged things and it was my fault he had anxiety and then he blocked me again.

Back before the tumblr purge this fandom was repulsive to a degree I cannot even begin to describe. Someone would reblog something from me, I'd go to their blog and it would be underage jpop idols and japanese p*rn all the way down. I even stumbled upon a man editing underage su into p*rn gifs. Obviously no proof of that but I did go find my initial reaction to it

The number of times I'd get a follow from someone then go to their blog and it would be as mentioned above or their bio would be the most misogynistic trash I'd ever read was staggering. I genuinely considered giving up and deleting this blog so many times bc i felt oberwhelmed and outnumbered by these gross old dudes; and so the fact that this fandom has evolved into a bunch of chaotic wlw?? Amazing, I could cry.

Fun phenomenon of women running bm blogs was men sending messages asking if we liked babymetal. No joke. I think this happened to me two or three times but I spoke w other female creators at the time and it had happened to them as well. My entire blog is babymetal, and yet???

He said the weird guy idk bc he sent some random ass messages vaguely insulting me and when I responded coldly, he acted confused so I said you're some guy idk, hence the above message starting as such. Also that pic and the one up above that has my current pfp bc I just took those screenshots. Like I said I typically blocked weird dms but I guess these passed me by so I still had the messages.

Most people know the sub reddit is the worst and don't need me to tell you but it's a hellscape and I highly recommend avoiding it. A short list of things I've had to see as a result of going there: men discussing at length kano and momoko's appearances and how they look in costume vs in normal clothes. Men discussing at length the hope that the girls would marry men who aren't Japanese, a thread that was from when all 3 girls were underage. They aren't gonna marry you dude they're really not.

The insulting of billie Eilish, a 17 year old at the time, was horrible too. Su and moa got to meet her, something they were extremely excited for, and they posted a pic; the comments were disgusting as you can imagine. The yui rumors were terrible too, fatshaming, slutshaming etc all based on nothing. Some man saying the rumors about yui leaving bc, no joke this was a real rumor, she "got too fat" couldn't be true bc "look at saya." Saya being a barely 18 yo back up dancer who covered the third spot after yui left but before the avengers. Not to mention the upskirt shots from when they were minors, the constant editing of their faces onto explicit photoshoots etc. I remember being a new fan looking for a su pic on google and being horrified at the fact that one of the top suggested results after her name was “bikini;” she was 16 at the time. Also, the uptick in massively creepy posts and messages sent to bm blogs as each girl, but esp moa and yui, approached 18 was disgusting.

Now for some personal nonsense. A big reason why I haven't touched my youtube channel in months is bc I got tired of dealing with the men of this fandom. I poke fun at metal and get told I deserve to die. I say ped*philes and creepy men are gross and get a swarm of middle aged men cursing at me. Had a guy cry about how men are shamed for liking bm and then he turned around and said some gross shit about wlw. Had a guy call me racist for liking a band he also likes (and despite him having no way of knowing my own race) and tell me the babymetal fandom doesn't need my kpop feminist bullshit, which is honestly a great description and I thought about putting it in my yt about lmao. Had a middle aged man unironically say he'd never seen a man be creepy towards bm but fans su and moa's ages calling them hot was creepy. The disillusionment....the level of unawareness is astounding. If you want to see screenshots of some of these comments they are fairly recent in my don't mind me tag; I don't want to see them anymore tho bc they're infuriating so I'm not going to look at them to post here.

Essentially I haven't looked at my channel since may bc men are exhausting and rude and refuse to examine the fandoms they're a part of no matter what. They're told by a woman of the fandom that she's had bad experiences personally and they all start crying about how it's either a lie bc they haven't seen it or unimportant. I did stop reading comments in may and I will never read another one again probably as a result of this shit. Trash men being trash are not worth my time and I refuse to give them anymore of it. I do plan on making more videos tho and let my ~feminist kpop bullshit~ live in their minds rent free.

I will also continue to make fun of metal and the creepy men in this fandom bc it's important and I'm a spiteful asshole who likes disrupting these dudes perfect bubble of a fandom. It genuinely brings me so much joy seeing all the new fans recently (which sidenote if you got into them recently I am kinda curious as to how you found them; I've gotten tons of new followers and considering how inactive they are rn I'm curious). People sending messages about how they finally feel like they belong or that they have a safe space....like I don't even know what to say and I never feel like my responses fully convey how genuinely wonderful that is and how thrilled I am that this is where we're at now and I have had at least some part in it. As this post shows, my experiences have been negative for the most part so the shift recently is such a relief I cannot even begin to explain my gratitude.

So to anyone who read all of this and hasn't disintegrated from the male bullshit, thank you. Keep being yourself and fighting for your place in this fandom, esp if you're a young woman; keep making fun of the creeps and keep making wlw memes!! Babymetal's music is in such a huge way meant for girls and to see more and more finding their way to this previously hellish beyond belief fandom is incredible.

#babymetal #don't mind me #this is long ok

57 notes · View notes

1zashreena1 · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine- New Ranch Flavor! -5

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess is stranded in NYC with her Murder Panther for the duration of the quarantine. As a high risk patient she has no choice but to isolate as much as possible. Simulated domesticity ensues. Princess texts a running commentary to her bff Lisa.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

No actual smut, nasty ass snack foods, plus size insecurity, unprotected sex, feels are icky, plus size woman+fit man, bad boys with too much money and not enough impulse control, secondary OCs, excessive swearing (???), illegal business dealings… I mean, its DIEGO

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged.

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 11:22am

From Princess

Day 1 and I literally have an ice pack on my pussy and

Hold on he’s not wearing pants again gtg

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 9:49am

From Princess

Video chatting with sister when Diego walks past in the background… shirtless.

She put her phone down (my entire screen was just ceiling) and I could hear her crying. Hung up after 10 min

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 10:14pm

From Princess

He sucks ass at Jenga and its adorable

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 11:49am

From Princess

I was provided a to-do list for the day.

It's just his name

~~~

Incoming Text

Sunday 1:32pm

From Princess

We have sorted every liquid in the penthouse into 2 categories:

Potential Lube

Definitely Not Lube

Except we’re arguing about ranch dressing

~~~

Incoming Text

Sunday 2:17pm

From Princess

Update: Ranch went into the Not Lube category because it “smells nasty when it gets warm” This fact was previously unknown to me and I was afraid to ask for more details

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 8:40am

From Princess

Morning announcements include the fact that 8:37 is the earliest he has ever gotten up

I’m worried about losing my job. Diego advises me to apply to Dyson because I “never lose suction”

Am I offended or proud of myself? It’s not even 9am

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 1:12am

From Princess

This is the most weed I have ever consumed in my life (I know, not a high bar) Why is he hanging upside down off the couch making motorboat noises??

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 1:14am

From Princess

Ahh. He was composing a poem about my tits

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 2:49am

From Princess

The railing up the stairs to the bedroom does not in fact support my weight. Pole dance competition is OFF

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 2:57am

From Princess

You know that thing you do with my bras? Where you put it on like a headband and it makes mickey mouse ears?

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 11:17am

From Princess

Julio required to give 10 min warning prior to arrival so Diego can take off his pants

Yes you read that right

Freak

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 11:19am

From Princess

Yes you do so know who Julio is. Big, round, only wears ivory/eggshell/off white/ThisIsMy 2ndWedding colored blazers. Jeez Lisa you're not old enough for dementia yet girl

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 12:52pm

From Princess

I have played myself. Just ate an entire cheesesteak while being a cockwarmer

Turns out I’m the freak

Julio present and accounted for

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 9:37am

From Princess

He’s crunching a bowl of something via spoon. I ask what it is. Crushed cheez-its and mayonnaise. What in the actual fuck this man is a literal monster

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 12:10pm

From Princess

Edible body paint works on windows. Had to sit on his shoulders but this is the largest ‘FUCK’ I have ever written. Very proud

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 12:22pm

From Princess

Bottom half of the ‘C’ has transferred onto my ass. But 7 orgasms. Pick your battles

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 11:47pm

From Princess

Tried a pickled habanero. He’s still face down in the rug crying with laughter. It’s been 10 min dude come on

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 10:12am

From Princess

Me: Why are you so heavy?

Diego: I keep eating you

Me: High five

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 3:17pm

From Princess

He’s trying to “conduct business” via 3 cellphones. Would offer my tablet but I’m too pretty for prison. Gonna take a nap

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 4:41pm

From Princess

Pants are forbidden in the bedroom. We’re just making the rules up as we go I see

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 9:59am

From Princess

He’s sitting in the corner of the window walls staring dejectedly outside. I hear the tiniest forlorn whisper “THOSE people are outside”

Too cute--must blow---BRB

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 1:32pm

From Princess

Angry texting. Muttering “No I can’t go outside and no you can’t come in here. Bitch…. No no, delete delete delete”

Me: Where is your sister anyway? LA?

Him: Very Squinty Eyes

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 9:22pm

From Princess

My ass is stuck in the kitchen sink. While he was very helpful getting me in here he is of no assistance getting me out.

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 11:46pm

From Princess

Apparently ‘douchecanoe twatwaffle jerkface’ is the most hilarious insult he has ever heard. My brilliance is unparalleled

~~~

Incoming Text

Sunday 5:51am

From Princess

Me: Hey what’s the worst thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?

Him outrageously offended: I’m not answering that!

Him: ... you first

~~~

Incoming Text

Sunday 7:12pm

From Princess

Is it a legit massage if he has to pause in the middle to jack off?

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:06am

From Princess

Ordered groceries via Amazon Prime drone delivery. Sitting on the rooftop patio wrapped up together in a ginormous blankie waiting.

Does this count as a date?

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 1:13pm

From Princess

Drone arrived. I lost my shit. Coolest thing ever. He’s frantically ordering more stuff because I haven’t looked this ecstatic since the time he rubbed my feet then went down on me for 2 hrs

Hold up change of plans

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 2:28pm

From Princess

stubble burn on bottom of feet :-/

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 6:44pm

From Princess

We can both fit in the jacuzzi tub. Almost drowned when his phone rang and we both spazzed out

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 10:10am

From Princess

Today’s formal edict: He will only be referring to himself in the 3rd person. I am required to do as told. Should not be this turned on

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 11:58am

From Princess

Watching him try to answer calls like this is a level of hilarity I could not have predicted

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 1:53pm

From Princess

He gave me a crash course in chem. Still don’t know anything but it was hot as hell

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 2:57pm

From Princess

Despite all evidence to the contrary I’m a Good Girl. Did as I was told. Got rewarded. 13 times

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 5:33pm

From Princess

Unlocked a tiny piece of tragic backstory*™: He’s never been to a zoo :-(

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 11:24am

From Princess

Julio and Bastian brought 4 pizzas. Currently eating them individually sitting in a giant square in the living room SOCIAL DISTANCING

Like he wasn’t inside me 10 min ago wtf

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 11:25am

From Princess

Yes cute driver Bastian. Btw you are barking up the wrong tree girl. His favorite animal is bears lol

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 12:39pm

From Princess

Garlic butter: lube or no? Round table discussion happening.

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 1:19pm

From Princess

I won in favor of No

Me: slams hands down on table

Me: HAVE YOU EVER HAD A YEAST INFECTION???

All men present: :-[

:-[

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 1:32pm

From Princess

Diego: puts garlic butter cup in the empty box and slides the whole mess off table to the floor without breaking eye contact. My sugar daddy is truly a murder panther

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 3:49pm

From Princess

Flipping channels (he only has 5000) when he comes downstairs from the bedroom wearing Ginormous Blankie as cape.

Him: Can we do the thing again?

Me: Gotta be way more specific babe

Him: Flaps blankie like wings and gives me puppy dog eyes

Him: You know. Thing. On the roof. ...please?

Did

Did he just ask me to cuddle???

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 5:58pm

From Princess

Can confirm roof cuddles. He fell asleep with his face mashed into my neck-shoulder after watching sunset. Every time I move he whimpers and squeezes tighter. I don't know what is happening but it kinda hurts in my chest

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 9:12pm

From Princess

Me: You know those girls you send away when I come up? There's one that sorta begrudgingly likes me?

Him, stuffing a 2nd Oreo into his mouth(there's already a whole 1 in there)

Him: Frahnthessga?

Me: Yeah! Can I fuck her?

….I should worry about my job again pretty sure Murder Panther Sugar Daddy is dead

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 10:48pm

From Princess

We splintered the plexiglass-divider-shower-wall thingy. His solution was to just hold all 215lbs of me up in the air and finish. I have no words

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 4:12am

From Princess

I can hear him on the phone downstairs listing names. I don't know these people. I'm going in the bathroom to run water so I can't hear anything else

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 9:02am

From Princess

I slept thru a breakfast meeting. There's a laptop and a box of 1 doz Boston cream donuts labeled PRINCESS on the bar counter. He's watching news with Julio + Bastian on the couch. Odd but ok I got fave donuts so whatevs

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 9:17am

From Princess

On 3rd donut when I catch him staring. Can only see from eyes up bc he's peering at me over back of the couch. Have inadvertently activated Horny Murder Panther mode via accidental slutty licking of cream filling.

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 11:40am

From Princess

Me: I don't like avocado

Diego: bitch what the fuck

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 12:10pm

From Princess

He asked what the deal was with white people and meatloaf. I requested clarification on food or music. He's confused it's fucking adorable

BUT NOW I HAVE TO EXPLAIN THE ENTIRE GENRE OF CLASSIC ROCK

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 2:14pm

From Princess

I'm making a meatloaf for dinner. Also brownies. TV is still on???

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 4:24pm

From Princess

Found a big round can of guava paste in the back of the fridge. He's spoon feeding it to me while watching me make meatloaf

Diego: I did not realize you were so… domesticated

Me, no brain to mouth filter: Yeah well gettin dicked down 3x a day will do that to a girl

Please send hitman asap

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 5:10pm

From Princess

He just turned TV off. Local news was listing all major crimes in NYC today. Last story was 6 bodies found inside meat plant freezer, execution style kills with "on-site" equipment. When I whisper Dafuq?? he distractedly mutters 'captive bolt pistol'

He's texting again

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 5:39pm

From Princess

I kinda wanna come home now

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 7:48pm

From Princess

I have converted another person to meatloaf lover (food not music)

On 3rd brownie when he declares: I am never letting you leave again. Mine now

Look up from rolling my eyes to receive Super Intense I Can See Into Your Soul Diego Stare

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 9:50pm

From Princess

He's looking for a scary movie via voice command on remote. Other hand is on my foot. I can't even see my foot. What is the actual purpose of hands that big?? What is the evolutionary goal to this endgame? ?? Why am I wet just thinking about a h a n d ?????

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 12:34am

From Princess

Con: This asshole is delighted to learn that I don't like scary movies

Pro: Hiding my face in his chest means I fucking feel the rumble when he laughs at me. I think I'm developing a heart condition. Hurts again.

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 1:40am

From Princess

He's rubbing his face all over my stomach. I don't like this. Sir why. Please it's literally the least attractive part of me

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 2:11am

From Princess

He likes it…? I don't see. How does. But it's.

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 3:47am

From Princess

He's asleep on my stomach after spending 40 min declaring his love for belly

I'm crying and I can't stop. My whole chest hurts. What is this. Is this the most long game prank ever. There's no way he's for real. I'm afraid. Do you think I should try to escape?? Please you know I'm not easily frightened but I just. Please text back I need my BFF

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 7:18am

From Princess

Woke up in bed alone and naked. Gonna grab a shirt and handle this. I can't just ignore it. This is probably a bad idea but I can't just let it go. If you don't hear back from me by noon call my parents. I love you

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:38am

From Princess

Halfway down the stairs 3 dudes I don't know come out of the office, Diego and Julio follow. They take 1 look at me and launch into laughter and some rude fucking spanish. I'm rusty but I know fucking "fat bitch" tyvm. Diego picks this mf up by the throat and throws him into the elevator. Drags the other 2 in and... no one has come back since

Been locked in the bathroom. I'm afraid to hear anything

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 1:48pm

From Princess

Relocated to closet earlier. Reading. I'm 2 chapters in and I don't even remember the title. Gonna take an ativan. Hands are shaking

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 2:27pm

From Princess

You know what? I don't even care. Like as long as it's never directed at me I just don't care.

It's too late I'm in too deep. I don't know if I can even come home after this. I'm not who everyone thinks I am. I don't know who I am. I'm turning the phone off now I'm sorry but I just need everything to stop for a while

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 7:48pm

From Princess

I'm ok, sorry for the dramatics. Woke up still in the closet corner but under Ginormous Blankie and can hear shower running. Decide it's time to put my big girl panties on and march in there. No I did not learn from the last time. Standby

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 9:22pm

From Princess

We're good.

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:49pm

From Princess

Ok. Marched into bathroom, launched into speech: I'm sorry but I did not know anyone was here. You have to leave me a note or something. Please tell me I did not ruin anything

Him, still in shower: Get your ass in here.

It was a literal growl

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:50pm

From Princess

Apparently that guy had been fucking up small time and Diego was waiting for him to fuck up big time. I will never see all 3 of them again (No do not ask)Yes it was frustrating but not mad at me. Ok a little because his sister hired that guy and now he has to explain the dude's ...disappearance. Without mentioning me. No one can know about me I am a "liability"

Um ouch..? I think?? Chest pain again

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:51pm

From Princess

He's been asleep, I'm just staring at the ceiling. Demanded I let him prove that he would never put hands on me that I don't want. I thought he was gonna cry. I did start crying but said yes. Not gentle per se, but definitely ...emotional? Like soft sex. Slow soft sex but with emotions?? I'm lost

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:54pm

From Princess

Please tell me no. Talk me out of this. Tell me I'm fucknuts and I need to just come home and be reasonable and sensible. You know when you stand at a ledge and a little voice tells you Just jump. Do it. Go

Do I want all in? Can I do this? I should not do this. I should not care about him. Especially like this. I just. When I'm not here this is all I think about. No one else makes me feel this way

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:56pm

From Princess

I'm hysterical right? This will go away if I just sleep. I can't stop looking at him. Touching his face, hair. Ever since the Kitchen Blowup (after the first fight??is it a fight if you're not technically in a relationship?) he's been different. Careful?? Like he really listened to me and heard. I can see him trying. Like reining in his knee jerk reactions and stopping to think before he says stuff to me. What am I supposed to do?

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 11:59pm

From Princess

I want to trust him. I want to be spoiled and fucked senseless and all the giggles and private planes and shopping sprees and sleeping in til noon. But what about the other side? Constantly looking over my shoulder? Worrying that he might not come home from whatever the fuck he's out doing? The other actual supermodel hot women??? I'm not naive.

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 12:10am

From Princess

I just need to turn this off. Shut it down. Cut off emotions and just fuck. I can't do this and I can't have him for keeps. So it's time to be realistic. After this shitty quarantine ends I'll take whatever cash he wants to give me and go home. I can move if I have to. It's not hard to change your name these days. This whole nightmare will be the hilarious rumors in my future nursing home

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 4:44am

From Princess

Got up at like 350 for the bathroom. When I crawled back into bed he yanked me backwards to be smashed into/under him. Buried face into my hair and ordered:

Stop

Leaving

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 9:10am

From Princess

Woke up alone. Gathered shirt. Did surveillance from top of stairs. Music blasting. Bastian and Diego are working out. I had to sit down for a while

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 9:40am

From Princess

Finally made it down the stairs. Eating donuts while watching live action porn

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 10:27am

From Princess

Show's over. Diego announces he is going to shower with a wink. I am staying on this barstool with my donuts. I am determined

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 10:38am

From Princess

Sharing donuts with Bastian. He is staring at me

Me: ...wut?

Bastian: You know I haven't driven Franchesca anywhere in 4 months

I don't know how long I've been sitting here staring at this half eaten donut but Bastian is gone

Shower still running

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 1:36pm

From Princess

Slut level 7: Shower blowjob

Realized I have to wash my hair now. He demands to do it??

Diego: How much fucking conditioner is this going to take?

Me drooling blissfully: Uhhh... please not that word right now

...I literally heard Horny Murder Panther transition happen.

He did not touch anything but my head. Came via voice command. How the fuck

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 1:39pm

From Princess

Then it was Round 2 still dripping wet in the bed. No idea how he recovered that fast not looking gift horse in the mouth. Haha Horse

Also slow soft again? Does this mean something?? I feel like I'm missing some key piece of info. Never had a dude like kiss all over my face and stroke my hair. What is this gentle?? Don't like the whole looking into my eyes thing

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 3:02pm

From Princess

Received an assignment. Was trying to budget for next month (on my new laptop! Whole Microsoft office package!! SPREADSHEETS!!!)

Instructed to help fix what I fucked up…?

It's resumes. He wants me to look at resumes. Um

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 4:12pm

From Princess

We traded laptops. I picked 3 resumes for 'warehouse labor' This is fucking surreal

Got my laptop back and… all the internet tabs were closed?? I was paying all my bills dude wtf. His phone rings but before he walks off tells me the title will be mailed to me. ?????

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 4:47pm

From Princess

He's still in the office on the phone. I'm in the closet in shock. He paid my loans. He paid my Loans. He Paid My Fucking Loans OFF

CAR

STUDENT LOANS

$$$$$ 30,000 $$$$$

THIRTY GRAND

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 4:52pm

From Princess

No you can't have him if I don't want him!! Fuck you

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 5:32pm

From Princess

Bastian came back, left a big box on the counter, said "This is for you honey" and left again. Diego still in the office.

...should I open it or wait for him to come out??

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 5:36pm

From Princess

Fuck it. I'm opening this shit

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 5:42pm

From Princess

It's a very large Brahmin bag.

Holy fuck its gorgeous

~~~

Incoming Text

Saturday 5:47pm

From Princess

You know what? You Know What?

IT'S KITCHEN BLOWUP 2.0 TIME

Incoming Text

Sunday 8:42am

From Princess

I think we're ok? I actually uh, accidentally recorded um… everything-ish. And I might send it to you later. But right now things are kinda wobbly and I just wanna enjoy everything while I can. I'll check back in later. We're going to bed now

Incoming Text

Sunday 1:58pm

From Princess

Woke up to 1 gigantic hand stroking down my back. 2nd hand stuffed up my pussy to the knuckle. Villain voice directly into left ear. Memory hazy after that

Incoming Text

Sunday 3:01pm

From Princess

Do Oreos in bed at 3pm count as breakfast? My hips hurt

Incoming Text

Sunday 6:40pm

From Princess

Ok we all know I'm very much A Freak. Trysexual if you will. Only way to know you don't like it is to try it right? So anal. Never really worked. Great in theory really unpleasant in practice.

Turns out others were trying to insert the wrong appendage. Related: I fucking love beards

e v e r y w h e r e

Incoming Text

Sunday 10:40pm

From Princess

Yes I know you wanna know about KITCHEN BLOWUP 2.0, someday I'll tell you about v.1. It's complicated. There are feels. I can't take the vague, wishy washy, up in the air status. So it went kinda like this

Me: You want to "keep" me? Wtf does that even mean?? And how, via purchasing me??? Don't get me wrong, I like being spoiled. I'm not an idiot. But you don't even know me

He looked like I stabbed him. It was horrible

Incoming Text

Sunday 10:42pm

From Princess

So I laid it all out: I lived in my car for a while in my 20s. Escaped an abusive ex after 8 yrs. Survived cancer at 26. Did 2 rounds of trade school just to be scraping by at like $15 an hour. That you just paid off like it was nothing. You try to protect me from you and your life. But you have no idea what I've already survived.

So here's the deal: You wanna keep me?? Then I get to keep you.

But it's everything. If I can't have everything then I don't want anything. And if it can't be ONLY me then I gotta go. I'm not a back up plan or a convenience.

Incoming Text

Sunday 10:50pm

From Princess

At this point I'm scream-crying, gesticulating like I'm hysterical. He's collapsed on the floor at my feet looking like I just killed his dog. Only makes me worse. I'm demanding an answer right fucking now. This is a disaster.

Incoming Text

Sunday 10:54pm

From Princess

He starts yelling about how he can't keep me if I'm dead. This isn't a fucking game and I'm just like Do I look like I'm playing right now?!?

Lisa, he was crying. Just kept repeating "She's right. She's fucking right. That bitch is right."

Head in his hands sobbing.

I couldn't.

Incoming Text

Sunday 10:59pm

From Princess

So I got down on my knees in front of him and reached for his hands. Just like the first blowup. I was terrified because he's obviously not in control and like I don't know the things he does but I Know. And the PTSD from ex… but I finally got him to look at me and asked him to just Tell Me.

And he did.

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 12:04am

From Princess

If you had told me that night in the club that any of this would happen. That this man was capable of everything these past 10 months have brought. I would've taken you to the hospital myself.

He collapsed on me and was just begging me "Don't go don't go. Please stay. Stay just for now. Please. No one else no one." I have a lot to consider. Probably gonna be quiet for a few days. I'll text you when things calm down. He's asleep on my chest right now

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 12:10am

From Princess

I mean 10 months...how many weekends have I been up here? 12? 16? And only twice did I reach out first and ask. I have stuff here. You saw the closet section. Every time I arrive there's coke and ketchup in the fridge. My face wash and toothbrush and a huge bottle of gel in the bathroom. Last time here he gave me the safe combo???

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 12:14am

From Princess

YES THE SODA JFC

I mean, I've never seen ...other… in the fridge. I don't think it needs to be refrigerated???

I Don't Know Okay

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 6:40am

From Princess

Woke up around 5 and he was just staring at me from like 2 inches away. He left once he realized I was awake. I didn't follow. He still hasn't come back to bed yet. Should I go find him?

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:38am

From Princess

Found him on the couch. Coffee table covered in vast array of firearms. Did not realize there were so many in this penthouse. Little uncomfortable. But I'm a fast learner with good mechanical skills so now I can do gun stuff. Please don't ask me about it

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:41am

From Princess

Ok yesss. We had the stupid movie cliche moment of big tough guy stands behind damsel to teach some physical skill. Gawd.

...yeah doing it feels better than watching. You happy now???

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 2:28pm

From Princess

Mood swing. He declared vengeance on behalf of his closet. I have worn too many shirts. This cannot continue. ????? Stay tuned

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 2:59pm

From Princess

This man runs the largest distribution enterprise in the western hemisphere.

Currently stuck in one of my $6 tank tops from Target.

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 4:17pm

From Princess

I'm out a tank top. And a thong. Go ahead and just think about that

...But I'm still wearing one of his shirts :-D

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 5:48pm

From Princess

Instead of admitting defeat he decided to forcibly remove the shirt from me. Since I have to be difficult, I ran. If this place wasn't soundproof there would be so many police here.

What level of fucked up is it to enjoy screaming No!, while struggling, not less than 3 sec prior to orgasm??

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 5:52pm

From Princess

The scale only goes to 10. You don't gotta be a bitch. Damn

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 8:17pm

From Princess

14 days will be up this Thursday. But they're talking about extending it, really bad here. I'm scared. Gonna try a drink, maybe ativan because I'm starting to freak out.

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 9:57pm

From Princess

Watching the news and I just sorta came unglued. Diego not really a soft/gentle guy (obvs) but once I got thru a blubber-cry explanation of immuno-compromised and cancer treatment I got full lap cuddles. I want this every time I'm upset. Warm and solid and big hands and soft nuzzles and scratchy velvet cheek kisses. Feel so tiny and safe

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:40pm

From Princess

Think I'm fukced up. Everything feels good. Petting all the things

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:44pm

From Princess

I'm fiiiiine. One drink. Once ativan. Thats it

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:49pm

From Princess

Omgod ill be fine it's good donot call me

~~~

Incoming Text

Monday 11:55pm

From Princess

What are fiddlesticks? Like the worrd not a instrument accessory?why do we say that

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 7:42am

From Princess

Holy shit I slept so good. I looked back thru the texts. Wtf was I doing?? I don't remember any of this

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 8:32am

From Princess

He's giving me that all teeth smile. I'm very suspicious. And surprisingly not horny?? Am I dying?

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 9:46am

From Princess

Have been informed that I was very adorable last night. I'm afraid to learn his definition of adorable

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 10:12am

From Princess

Omg he has 3 hours of video

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 11:17am

From Princess

I spent 45 min yelling about Pluto planet status being revoked and the kilogram definition being forever altered. He was very invested in the 2nd part. Legit academic discussion

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 11:49am

From Princess

Next part: I decided to make a fried egg sandwich. He started recording like a cooking show. I almost lit my hair on fire.

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 11:57am

From Princess

Oh I see where everything went wrong. I had 1 drink and 1 ativan. Then I finished his drink. Then I drank his replacement. Why tf did he let me do that??

"You were so cute! How could I say no to this face, bonita?"

...I will remember that

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 12:13pm

From Princess

Apparently we exchanged playlists. This is not good

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 12:28pm

From Princess

Omg I revealed the Murder Panther Sugar Daddy title. Oh fuck. Shit shit shit

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 12:42pm

From Princess

I spent 40 min petting him all over while listing everything I liked and why. He is going to be insufferable for forever after this

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 1:22pm

From Princess

Lisa. Lisa. Holy shit. He said we made a porno. I laughed. He fucking narrated an opening to it. I am dying I am going to die I am dead

Him, offscreen: Diego and Bicki make a Porno!

Me, onscreen, twerking on the bed in lace bra

Me: eeeeeeeeeeeeeee ASS AND TITTIES!!!

Diego pops into shot, giggling: Pretty Princess Pussy!!

The whole thing just dissolved into shaky blur and us laughing hysterically

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 1:24pm

From Princess

No I'm not sharing it. What is wrONG WITH YOU??????

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 3:44pm

From Princess

It… did not go the way I thought it would. And apparently he had not watched it either because we were both surprised.

That. Was not sex. Seeing the soft slow with emotions from the outside was pretty damning.

That was lovemaking

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 6:32pm

From Princess

I'm locked in the bathroom. Everything is fucked.

I just… I just hid my face and said "I want to go home." Like a fucking coward hiding behind my hair, I took off upstairs and now I'm here. It's been a long time. I'm still alone

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 6:39pm

From Princess

No shit Sherlock, I know I have intimacy issues.

Men don't love me. Sure I'm fun to fuck for a while. But they don't take a poor fat girl home. Come on, you've seen it firsthand. Clearly, since here I still am by myself

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 6:42pm

From Princess

I don't know what I was thinking. I don't belong here. Guess I'll just ride out the last 2 days then come home

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 6:45pm

From Princess

I think Julio is here. I can hear their voices but can't make out the words

Oh no his sister is here. They're yelling in Spanish, I can't catch any of it

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 10:14pm

From Princess

They screamed for a while, then she finally left. Been silent ever since. I don't know if he's still here

~~~

Incoming Text

Tuesday 10:40pm

From Princess

He's definitely still here. There's a tantrum going on

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 12:32am

From Princess

Fell asleep in the closet corner again. Except when I woke up he was wedged in there with me

Me: … um

Diego: I think I see why you do this

Then he went to sleep on me

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 5:48am

From Princess

Have been talking since 3. Still in the closet.

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 7:10am

From Princess

I'm coming home when this is over. I need some time and space to think.

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 7:12am

From Princess

Is that even the right term? Do you 'break up' with a sugar daddy????

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 7:13am

From Princess

NO I WANT TO KEEP HIM

BITCH I WILL STAB YOU

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 7:16am

From Princess

Gonna shower and go to bed. You mention that last text and I literally will stab you. BFF or not

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 4:40pm

From Princess

Just listened to an hour of descriptions of Mexico.

I am… tempted

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 6:54pm

From Princess

I'm flying home Friday, they just lifted the travel ban here.

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 6:59pm

From Princess

No, no one is happy here. We're both clingy disasters today

~~~

Incoming Text

Wednesday 7:17pm

From Princess

Went downstairs. It's a war zone. We came back upstairs

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:19am

From Princess

Couldn't sleep so I'm packing. Diego is watching me from the bed with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes in existence.

Effect kinda ruined because I can see his bare ass

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:22am

From Princess

Why would you ask me that? You know he's an exhibitionist

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:23am

From Princess

I can't decide if you're the Best or the Worst BFF ever. Gawd

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:25am

From Princess

...IMAGE LOADING…

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:27am

From Princess

Yeah. You see my dilemma now???

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:28am

From Princess

Yes I bite it! What is wrong with you today???

~~~

Incoming Text

Thursday 6:43pm

From Princess

He spent entire day attached to me. I..??? What do I do with a clingy cartel boss drug lord?? Its too much

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 8:52am

From Princess

I'm on the plane. He rode here with me. Looked so… broken. Feel like a monster. But I'm scared

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 1:45pm

From Princess

Lisa. LISA. LISA.

I'm home but but he. Omg

~~~

Incoming Text

Friday 2:38pm

From Princess

There's a tiny stuffed panther in my bag with a note: I just want to be with you

My very own Tiny Murder Panther

#damnit diego #murder panther #zash writes #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #rough me up then dick me down #so many feels #literally filth #nasty ass food

43 notes · View notes