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cherrysarchives · 2 years ago

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Dick Pick (M)

➻ Pairings: Chanyeol x Baekhyun

➻ Genre: smut, pwp, humor

➻ Additional:

➻ Word Count: 1.9K

➻ Warnings:

➻ Author’s notes: This story was written anywhere from 4 - 10 years ago. I’m highly aware that much of the content in this story is unrealistic and may be triggering to some. Please mind all tags! If you’re unsure, please just skip this story. This story is fiction and does not reflect real-life idols' behaviors, personalities, or beliefs. This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

The dorm was relatively quiet that evening. A few of the members had their own schedule to go to. Like Sehun with his movie, Suho with his premier. He was pretty sure Kyungsoo was shooting for another drama. Baekhyun, himself, had just finished shooting his own movie for the evening and he was more than happy to spend the rest of the evening doing nothing. With Lay still in China, Kai out with his girlfriend, Chen and Xiumin doing god only knows what, and Chanyeol probably composing, Baekhyun was left to do whatever he wanted. What he wanted to do, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He had taken a few selfies after his shower, but didn’t have the energy to post them on instagram. The thought of watching a movie or something crossed his mind, but that required getting up to get his laptop, which is something he honestly didn’t want to do at the moment. He was very comfy, sprawled out on the bed in nothing but his boxers, hair still slightly damp from his shower, towel draped over his shoulders.

So he stuck with his phone. He was going back and forth between instagram, thumbing through pictures and YouTube, watching different random videos. It was one of his favorite ways to unwind after a busy day. He had just clicked on a Girl’s Day video to watch one of the previous performances when the notification dropped down from the top of his phone. A quick scan showed that it was from Chanyeol and it was a photo attachment.

Pausing the video, he exited out of the app and scrolled over to his messages and opened them. Clicking on Chanyeol’s name, he watched as the message popped up and he stared at the photo in front of him.

It was, what he assumed was Chanyeol laying in bed with the blankets wrapped around his legs and his hand pressed down, fingers curled slightly around his very hard and erect cock that was still in his shorts. He had to cock his head, eyes glued to the image for a moment before he shook his head. It was a daring image and he wasn’t sure why Chanyeol took it, but he just shrugged it away. He didn’t bother to send a reply back, figuring either it was some weird prank or had misclicked who he wanted to send it too.

Exiting out of his messages, he opened back up the YouTube app and continued to watch his video. He was bobbing his head along, singing to the song happily. His eyes moved around on the screen, watching each woman as she danced. He had to admit, he did like watching the girls dance in the outfits the stylists had picked out for them. Tummy flashes and long legs. Oh the long legs. He loved a girl with long legs.

He couldn’t help but laugh loudly when one of the girls fell. He covered his mouth and giggled and watched till the end before looking for another video. Mess ups were always funny to watch, as long as he wasn’t the one who made the mess up. He decided to go with a boy group this time and up10tion was getting a lot of attention, so he decided to watch these rookies. The video had just started when another picture came in from Chanyeol. Baekhyun could only shake his head and guess what Chanyeol could want to show him this time. Hopefully not another dick covered pic.

Baekhyun could hope all he wanted, but the moment he pulled up Chanyeol’s message, his hopes were dashed as his eyes widened to an impossibly large size. Right before him was a picture he never thought he would get from Chanyeol. The other had his pants down around his thighs...those milky white thighs. His hand was wrapped around his erect cock and lord was it big. It was certainly bigger than Baekhyun had thought it would be. Bigger than he thought it should be. It was…..huge.

Baekhyun couldn’t help but lick his lips, and with slender fingers, he enlarged the picture and looked at it closer. He was uncircumcised and Baekhyun was surprisingly okay this. Baekhyun was surprisingly okay with all of this. From seeing his friend’s penis to actually liking the look and shape of it. And wanting to...taste it.

Reaching up, Baekhyun slapped himself a few times on the cheek. “Snap out of it Byun.” he muttered. He couldn’t like this. He couldn’t like seeing his friends dick. He couldn’t like seeing a dick period. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. But yet something inside him was telling him that this...this dick was the one he had always wanted. Not that he knew he wanted a dick. But this dick was the one.

“Oh my god I’m going crazy.” he muttered. He closed the picture out, fingers pressing the chat box as he sent a quick reply back to the younger male

Chanyeollie~

‘Yah! Why are you sending me pictures of your dick?!’

Closing out the application once more, he pulled YouTube back up and started the video again, trying to keep his mind off of the pictures he received while he waited for a reply back. He was barely another 30 seconds into the video when the message came through and Baekhyun quickly opened it.

Chanyeollie~

‘Sorry man, must have clicked your name by mistake. ‘

Baekhyun couldn’t believe what he was reading. Chanyeol had actually meant to send these pictures to someone else? Who could he be sending such naughty pictures to? And why? That was the most important question. Actually the most important question was how come Baekhyun didn’t know Chanyeol had someone he wanted to send nude pictures too? He was in shock and not really sure how to reply to this. It took him a good five minutes before he could finally formulate a reply that didn’t either sound dumb, sounded mean, or sounded like he wanted to see more.

Chanyeollie~

‘You could get in trouble if these pictures go to the wrong person.

Why are you taking them anyway?’

That seemed like a good enough response. It wasn’t too harsh, and he didn’t sound too curious like he might want more. He sounded just right. Instead of going back to his video, this time he just kept his messages opened and waited. And waited. And waited some more. It honestly felt like forever before he got the message back, but in reality it had barely been a minute.

Chanyeollie~

‘Your right. Good thing it was you. I just wanted to

see what it would look like if I took a picture of my cock.

Do you like it? Big right? I think I’m the biggest in the

group now.’

Baekhyun smacked his head. Leave it to Chanyeol to want to try something that was so dangerous and scandalous like that. The other was just crazy, that’s all there was to it. But did he like it? If he was being honest with himself, yes he did like it. He liked it a lot.

Chanyeollie~

‘Why would you ask me if I liked it? Chanyeol

you're crazy. Stop taking pictures of your dick.’

Baekhyun honestly wasn't sure what else to say this other than that. He wasn't going to tell his best friend he liked the picture of his dick. And he wasn't going to admit to himself that he liked the picture of his best friend’s dick. Even if he already knew he did. He'd rather lie to himself than to admit it.

Chanyeollie~

‘Aw you’re no fun Baek. Come over here and

help me take more pictures.’

Baekhyun groaned and sighed and rubbed his forehead. This man. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted him to help take dick pictures? How could he even help? Other than hold the camera? He certainly wasn’t going to be holding Chanyeol’s dick. At all.

Chanyeollie~

‘There is no way I’m helping you. Forget it’

Baekhyun expected a reply from Chanyeol, complaining that Baekhyun wasn’t being fair, but when nothing came, Baekhyun almost felt a little disappointed. Not that he couldn’t just text Chanyeol again. Or even get up and walk down the hall and go see the other in his room. He could do any of those. And yet he sat there and pouted. He pouted like a upset teenage girl who didn’t get her way. And for no real good reason.

After about holding his phone for ten minutes, he threw it down on his bed. He wasn’t in the mood anymore to watch videos or anything. Laying down on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what he should or shouldn’t do. After a while though, his mind went to other things, like all the little popcorn like things that lined his ceiling. What was it? Why was it there? Had it always been there?

They were deep thought provoking questions that had him so wrapped up that when his phone went off, he jumped on his bed slightly and panted. Reaching over, he grabbed and stared at the notification that Chanyeol had sent him another message. Raising a brow, he unlocked his phone and pulled up his messages and stared at the little clip link of a video. He wasn’t liking what he saw, but he hit play anyway.

“Baekhyun-ah~” Chanyeol’s breathy moan came through the phone. Baekhyun’s eyes widened as he watched as the camera was tilted down, revealing Chanyeol’s hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it. Baekhyun watched the way the skin moved over the head, covering it on every upstroke before being removed on the down stroke. Thead was so smooth and pink in color. It looks so delicious. He gave the head a squeeze, his thumb swiping over it and he moaned out louder.

“Fuck, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun groaned and licked his lips. The way his name left Chanyeol’s lips sent a shiver up his spine and made his cock.twitch. “Fuck.” He watched as Chanyeol got a closeup of his cock, watching the way the other stroked himself. Chanyeol moved his fingers and used his thumb to press down on his cock, pushing it downwards before letting it go. Baekhyun let out a groan as the cock bobbed back and forth a few times before stopping.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to see more. He was falling deeper and deeper into a state of lust that he didn’t want to admit he could be in, but it was happening.

The camera moved and turned, showing Chanyeol’s face and the smile that graced his face, cheeks slightly flushed. “You could be in here helping me Baekhyun. But instead you want to keep denying your attraction for me.” he spoke deeply and chuckled. “That’s okay. Enjoy this video and know one day, you’ll get the real thing. Until then...baby.” He turned the camera again and pointed it at his cock. His other hand wrapped around the hard flesh and stroked himself quickly. Deep grunts left him, hips slightly moving before they stilled.

“Baekhyun!” Baekhyun gasped as he watched the milky fluid shoot from Chanyeol’s cock, landing on his hand and abdomen as he stroked himself through his orgams. The video ended and Baekhyun was left there to stare in shock and awe. It wasn’t until his cock gave a painful twitch, did he realize he was hard, horny and desperate for Chanyeol’s cock.

He fell back on the bed and panted softly as he reached down and gripped himself through his pants, giving his cock a squeeze. “God I fucking hate you, Park Chanyeol.” he grumbled to himself. Lifting his phone, he pressed play once more and watched the video while stroking his cock.

It was going to be a long night.

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writingstuffandmore · 1 year ago

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Requests are open people!!

The request in pending would be posted in this week.

Sorry for leaving without a notice and worrying people here!

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writerblue275 · 1 year ago

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Songs that make me think of each Heartsteel member [and Alune] (with minimal explanation).

Inspiration: One of the things I do to inspire myself while writing is listen to music. I’ve always been musical (piano, viola, and singing) and music can really set my mood/make me think of a scenario. Occasionally when I’m just listening to music in my car, a song pops up and I’m like…"Oh that makes me think of (enter character here)!"

Genre: ?? I have absolutely no clue how to classify this?? Mood music??? Headcanon inspiration??

Category: I guess fluff, but some of these songs are indirectly or directly suggestive/explicit so 😬. But nothing explicit actually in this post.

Tw: None for this post besides swearing, but again some of these songs are directly or indirectly suggestive/explicit so listen at your own discretion. 🤷🏼‍♀️

(Each person gets at least 2 songs. Sett and Kayn get three because it's my post that's why. 😂)

Aphelios:

“Thnks fr th Mmrs” - Fall Out Boy (Lmao if you think I wouldn’t have some emo/alt for Phel on this list, you’re sorely mistaken.)

“Levitating” - Dua Lipa (“I got you, moonlight, you’re my, starlight…”💃)

Ezreal:

“Hey Mama!” - EXO-CBX (Did you really think I wouldn’t have Baekhyun for Ez in some way? Yeah fucking right! I associate him with my fav EXO sub-unit song.)

“Hyperfixations” - Catie Turner (I actually had this for Aphelios initially but then I realized it fit Ez WAY BETTER. I LOVE THIS SONG.)

Kayn:

“Met Him Last Night” - Demi Lovato (Feat. Ariana Grande) (All I have to say is listen to the lyrics, especially the first verse through the chorus, and tell me it’s not a fucking POV of meeting Kayn.)

“Gives You Hell” - The All-American Rejects (This is absolutely Kayn’s response to his old band.)

“S&M” - Rihanna (😏 Makes sense with one of my prior ranking/headcanons.)

(I have so many alternate options for Kayn omfg. I really struggled limiting it to only one more for him since I’m not doing that for most others. What does this say about me and my taste in music? 😂)

K’Sante:

“Physical” - Dual Lipa (Thought of our gym bro duo and then the lyrics made me think of K’Sante!)

“I’m Not Sorry” DEAN, Eric Bellinger (The confidence in the lyrics and then energy/vibe of the song just SCREAMED K’Sante to me!)

Sett:

“Confident (Rock Version)” - Demi Lovato (“…I’m the boss right now…” Damn straight Sett is the boss.)

“Watermelon Sugar” - Harry Styles (Again, makes sense with one of my previous rankings/headcanons.😏)

“34 + 35” - Ariana Grande (🫣 LISTEN I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. 😅).

Yone:

“Black Swan” - BTS (What the lyrics talk about fit really well with Yone’s known backstory before Heartsteel.)

“Home” - Catie Turner (I just think it fits secretly soft and romantic Yone very well!)

EXTRA - Alune (because we love her and she’s a baddie):

“God is a Woman” - Ariana Grande (She sure is, especially when she has to be the manager of Heartsteel and deal with these six. 😂)

“%% (Eung Eung)” - Apink (the vibe of the song fits her well and I like the lyrics with Alune’s vibe too.)

Thanks for reading/vibing. I feel like I might have to do more of these. Maybe make it a series as I realize it's happening with more songs! Music is my biggest inspiration when I write.

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #Heartsteel headcanon inspiration #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel yone #heartsteel alune #headcanon #league of legends

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year ago

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hi Bp,

I want to know why the encore situation with jimin was made a big deal ?

Because i know jimin is a good singer..maybe due to his in ear problem he might not be able to sing well..but all his live performances of face were so good ...but people totally ignored it and just attack him for encore singing and made a big deal of it

Do u think it might have affected jimin ?

***

Hi @minimun,

This is what I wrote in response to the hate Jimin was getting after SMF Pt 2 was released. Please read it.

The reaction k-pop stans had to Jimin's encore stage can be explained by the reasons I gave in that post.

To quote a relevant section:

"...so long as a project comes from a BTS member, the default inclination of most k-pop stans is to hate it. Nearly all the hate you’re seeing for Jimin’s Set Me Free Pt 2 was nearly guaranteed to begin with, the autotune just made it easy as the excuse. I mean, there’s a whole subset of k-pop fandoms who believe he can’t sing despite years of proof to the contrary. Since 2018 (precisely after BTS was awarded the Cultural Order of Merit award), the best case scenario from k-pop stans towards music released by BTS, is for them to ignore it. If you’re expecting any other reaction from k-pop stans besides avoidance or hate, you’re hoping for too much. Personally, I don’t think it’s a big deal, but I do think you need to calibrate your expectations to the reality of the environment you’re in. It’s one reason ARMYs are so fervent in their support of BTS."

If k-pop stans see that a comeback/debut from a BTS member is going to be massively successful, as Jimin's FACE was, they immediately go looking for anything to take away from that success. Fans of SM groups have also been on a campaign since the 2016 daesang loss of EXO to BTS, to assert that BTS is inferior to SM groups in terms of vocals, and so therefore BTS does not deserve their status as the biggest group in k-pop. They often target Jimin, Tae and Jin in these claims and constantly look for any chance to prove "Jimin can't sing". Even Jungkook sometimes gets attacked. After 2018 when BTS and Jimin were further differentiated from much of k-pop by the government, the wider k-pop fandom has joined SM stans to take every opportunity to make the group's status seem less legitimate and one reason they often cite is that BTS is less talented than other groups in vocals and they use Jimin as the scapegoat.

If you've ever doubted anything I've been saying about how k-pop fandom actually feels about BTS, that feeding frenzy from antis, k-pop stans, akgaes, the blatant schadenfreude on display over the clips of Jimin's encore stage, should disabuse you of every doubt atp. It's not like he's the only person who's had faulty in-ears during an encore and as a result was trying to find his key, he's not even the only person who has had a bad encore stage. Even Twice's Momo who made a similar gaffe during her encore for The Scientist, she didn't get as much of a backlash as Jimin did. It doesn't matter whether he can sing or not. They don't care about whether he can actually sing or else they would've seen all the several examples of Jimin singing comfortably and skillfully. The only thing k-pop stans are interested in, is humbling him. Jimin's unusual tone in k-pop makes him an easy target for many k-pop stans who read "different" as "bad".

As I've said before, Jimin is my favourite vocalist in BTS. He's an excellent vocalist in my opinion and I'm very proud of how he's improved since debut.

One thing about BTS that's true for them than it is for any group I've seen, is that they actually sing live more times than not.

youtube

It's more impressive for me that their vocals are still in good condition despite 10 years of going as hard as they've gone in their live renditions. It's impressive for Jimin especially given his high range and how he's only expanded and strengthened it over the years.

I don't think the encore stage 'affected' Jimin the way some people imply. He's his own harshest critic for better or worse, and I suspect there's nothing a kpoppie or stan could've written that Jimin didn't briefly consider himself. Of course all the chaos around it was embarrassing, that's expected, but also he's been through worse and if there's any legitimate criticism, the person who will get to the heart of the matter quickest is Jimin.

Jimin is already something of a beast of an idol, but after that encore stage and everything that happened during FACE, he's reflected on what he needs to do to become even better than he is...

...and I'm genuinely terrified for the future of k-pop because Jimin is about to become even more untouchable. I'm not even trying to gas him up or lean into my bias. With all the years I've watched him, Jimin isn't someone you want to bet against, ever, and a lot of people are going to be in for a rude awakening when he's ready to show what he's worked on. Ignore k-pop stans. They exist only to serve as background noise and spectate as Jimin continues to build on his artistry, continues to gain the respect of industry professionals, and thrive.

Stream Set Me Free Pt 2 for clear skin and a healthy bank account.

youtube

#jimin #park jimin #jimin face #bts #bts solo careers #bts chapter 2 #kpop #kpop stans

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bunnyjunmyeonie · 1 year ago

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Blog Navigation and Fic Recs Masterlist

Note:- All of the works listed below DO NOT belong to me. Credits to the talented authors who wrote them.

Groups:- EXO

Kim Junmyeon / Suho

The Book Of The Dead By @marshmallow-phd

Case File 01 By @xiubaek-13

Not Without Her (Series, Smut) By @myeoning-call

Drabbe Prompt By @decantingstxrs

Kinktober Day 31, Junmyeon (Smut) by @itstheoneshot

Hard Enough (Freinds to lovers, suggestive) by @writemekpop

Snowed Up (Smut) By @bluenereid

Day After Day By @chaecchi

Doctor's Orders (M) by @prettywordsyouleft

Junmyeon Smut By @bluenereid

A Pleasant Way To Beat Boredom, a Junmyeon Drabble by @seawitch62

One Week

Junmyeon Drabble By @kpop---scenarios

Junmyeon Drabble By @itstheoneshot

Junmyeon Request Prompt (Smut)By @yeoldontknow

The Pact by @gamerwoo

Stranded By @noona-clock

Halloween Rumors By @noona-clock

Junmyeon Smut Drabble By @gamerwoo

Junmyeon Request prompt By @biaswreckingfics

Junmyeon Request Prompt By @biaswreckingfics

Junmyeon (Exes To Lovers) Request Prompt By @biaswreckingfics

Replay (Smut, Mature Themes) By @yeoldontknow

Park Chanyeol

The Greatest Gift (Smut) By @wonderlustlucas

Business favours (Smut) By @itschanyeolfic-blog

Free Spirits (Series, Smut) By @exoheadspace

Police Officer AU (Smut) by @seungcheolsthighsss

Dating Park Chanyeol Headcannon By @you-can-be-the-moonlight

Chanyeol Prompt by @lustbile

Bitten By a Spider (Smut) by @byunbhyunz

Oh Sehun

Do Kyungsoo

Chen / Kim Jongdae

Providence (Fake Boyfriend! Chen, a little smut) By @xiubaek-13

Tinted Lips AU (Series, Smut) by @myeoning-call

Kai / Kim Jongin

If Only By @iridescentxstars

Brat By @sinnerforexo

Byun Baekhyun

Let Me In By @xiubaek-13

Heartless By @soujougeurilla

Blindly In Love by @myeoning-call

Xiumin / Kim Minseok

Case File 99 By @xiubaek-13

Far, Far Away by @mrkswrld

Lay / Zhang Yixing

Lu Han

So Handsome (Implied Smut) by @xiubaek-13

Masterlist Posts Of Other Fic Writers:-

Mobile Masterlist Of @marshmallow-phd

Masterlist Of @pesiko

Masterlist Of @hobicomeholla29

Lost In Translation Masterlist By @xiubaek-13

Masterlist Of @oh-beyond aka @myeoning-call

Reading List Of @baekxytocin (Baekhyun fics)

Masterlist Of @byunstation

Masterlist Of @iibonniee

Turn Masterlist (BBH, KJM, KJI, PCY) by @kpop---scenarios

KJM and ZYX by @bluenereid

Kinktober Masterlist Of @mint-yooxgi

Masterlist of @chanyeolsbiggestfangirl

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cultofdionysusnet · 1 year ago

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ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Ficrec Week 15: Horror AU

Due to the nature of this genre, all works are automatically rated M for Mature. However, there will be a separate warning for gore and/or violence. Fics marked with "*" aren't tagged with gore/violence, but may contain it, please proceed with caution.

ATEEZ

Arachnophobia by @kwanisms (Gore TW)

The Shadows of Despair by @anyamaris (Gore TW)

Better Run~ by @sanjoongie (Gore TW)

Welcome To Wonderland by @kpop-stories-21 (Gore TW)

A World Turned Red by @kpop-stories-21 (Gore TW)

Fake Love by @kpop-stories-21 (Gore TW)

I'll Bleed For You by @kpop-stories-21 (Gore TW)

GRIMOIRE: TALE OF TALES. DAY 13. by @thelargefrye (Gore TW)

To Tempt Fate by @mint-yooxgi (Gore TW)

Hotel California by @mint-yooxgi *

kill to the beat. by @thelargefrye (Gore TW)

Kinktober Day 31 by @mint-yooxgi *

DR JEKYLL N' HYDE by @ja3hwa *

Scenarios & edits : Ateez as || horror and thriller psychos by @essenteez (Gore TW)

reaper by @seacottons *

Ateez Insuetis by @joongalez *

I Think I Saw You In My Sleep, Darling by @thanks-its-versace *

The hunter by @multidreams-and-desires (Gore TW)

Stray Kidz

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie? by @hwxnghyynjin (Gore TW)

Tomorrow X Together

Exorcism by @kpoptrashlord-007 *

Others

The Doctor WIll See You Now (EXO's Chanyeol) by @kwanisms (Gore TW)

Nature's Deadly Call (EXO OT11) by @kpop-stories-21 (Gore TW)

Monster (EXO OT11) by @mint-yooxgi *

The Neighbor's Son (ATEEZ's Wooyoung and The Boyz's Sangyeon) by @sanjoongie (Gore TW)

Paranoid (NCT's Taeyong) by @mint-yooxgi *

Kinktober Day 31.5 (NCT's Jaehyun) by @mint-yooxgi *

#cultofdionysusnet #ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Fanfiction Recommendations #CoDN Week 15 #Horror AU #horror au #horror #ateez #stray kids #txt

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dilxcc · 8 months ago

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Heyyyyy!! I was wondering if you could do a little something with Chanyeol were he and reader are working on a song together and everything is being recorded and they become really close and when the video is posted the fans love their chemistry and they beg them to make more music together and in one of the videos they forget that they’re being recorded and they kiss or something 😅(it’s cool if you don’t want to take this request)

a bit too close ᡣ𐭩 park chanyeol

fluff, kinda slowburn, friends to lovers, love confession, mutual pining, a little bit of kissing🧍, reader is so in love with him, grammatical error

chanyeol x f!reader

a/n idk if this is good but i hope you like it 😭

"i think it would sound better if you..." his words fell on deaf ears as you admired him. it was clear to everyone how head over heels you are for him. the way his bangs fell over his forehead, the way his dimples showed at the slightest smile, the way he would cover his mouth slightly when he was complimented.

"y/n? did you hear what i was saying?" chanyeol waved his hand in front of you, causing you to snap out of your stupor. "sorry?" you blinked, eyes slightly widened. "as i was saying, i think it would sound better if you soften your voice a little at this part," he repeated, chuckling softly at your antics.

you leaned closer to him and looked at the printed lyrics that were full of his scribbled notes. "which part?" you inquired, your eyes scanning through your part. his finger pointed out to the closing part. you flinched slightly when you felt his touch on your face. "your hair was in the way," he admitted, acting as if tucking your hair behind your ears was the most natural thing to do.

your cheeks burned slightly and you stepped a few steps back. "right," you stuttered slightly, now fixing your hair nervously. "oh, should we take a break? it's almost lunchtime," chanyeol muttered, looking at his phone's lock screen. you could only nod in reply, not trusting your voice to answer him. "what do you want? i'll order it for us," he scrolled through a food app.

soon enough, the two of you finished your recordings and it was finally time to leave the studio.

eris4life: did you guys see the way she was looking at him??? 👀

channielove: no wayyy did you not see the WAY chanyeol was looking at her??? eris4life: omg i just noticed! are we smelling something hereeee

kyungkyungsoo: omg they should totally collab more! they sound so good together!!!

baeksblub: guys... i think we're getting an announcement soon

you scrolled through the video's comment section, face flushing slightly because of how obviously you were staring at chanyeol. they even gave the exact time stamp! but the thought of chanyeol doing the same made your heart flutter. was he staring at you too? you hadn't noticed.

chanyeol on the other hand was smiling to himself while remembering the time you two were recording the song. his grip on the pillow grew tighter every time he remembered your smile. "hyung, he's at it again," sehun whispered in junmyeon's ear. "who's at what again?" junmyeon tilted his head slightly. kyungsoo pointed his finger toward chanyeol who was smiling ear to ear like a high school girl in love.

chanyeol was not the type to back down from a challenge. he considers talking to you more – getting to know you a challenge as not many people would have the courage to talk to the one they are interested in.

his finger hovers over your username, contemplating whether he should follow you or not. maybe this was a bad idea – that this was a very stupid idea. but hell, he loves stupid.

real__pcy

hey 🫣

were your eyes deceiving you or did you accept a new message from chanyeol?

y/n

hey 🫢

real__pcy

do you want to get coffee sometime? no pressure you can say no

the two of you somehow just clicked. chanyeol made you laugh so much. you made him laugh so much.

not even a year after your collaboration, the two of you were already planning a new song together. except this time, both of you were jumpy.

an accidental touch to the hand caused both of you to flinch and jump in the opposite direction. the sudden close distance made both of you stutter your words and look in the other direction. and the simplest eye contact almost caused you to ruin the whole song while recording.

you remind yourself to be mindful of your actions as the two of you are being recorded. but it was so hard sometimes when his closeness lingered a few seconds long. he probably hates you right? you were being awkward and unprofessional while recording.

"you two should take a break," the director instructed, getting up from his chair and walking out of the studio. you let out a sigh and sat down on the chair inside the recording room. and he followed suit. he carefully sat down beside you, hoping you wouldn't be uncomfortable. "so..." he started, his voice sounding awkward.

"i think you did great, by the way," he complimented, smiling shyly at you. "i think you did great, too," you returned the compliment. after a while, the silence returned. though this time, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it was a few minutes ago.

a few days later, the two of you returned to the studio for the final recording. due to both of you being incompetent, the recording time was longer than expected. your interaction a few days ago made both of you less skittish. except for the occasional awkward laughter.

at one point, you hadn't even realized that the two of you had gotten so close while inspecting the lyrics. "this part–" his words died down in his throat when his arm brushed yours. "sorry," he muttered but made no effort to move away. your eyes didn't peel away from his and instead, the two of you were leaning into each other's face.

with chanyeol being tall, he had to bend down a little. you closed your eyes, half-expecting for him to kiss you. while the other half; well...

his lips met yours in a slow yet sensual kiss. it wasn't rushed. and for some reason, it just felt so right. the world around you vanished and you could only feel the two of you standing there; in the room right now.

when you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and slowly regained his breath. "is it too late to admit that i like you?" he smiled, his cute dimples showing. you shook your head and smiled. "i like you, too,"

the video went viral just a few hours after being published.

chanslover: chanyeol please just one chance 😭😭

jonginreal: YESSSS THEYRE TOGETHER

junmyeonsfakecotton: my ship is sailing. i can finally die in peace.

baekshands: OMG OMG OMG TELL ME IM NOT DREAMING

kyungsoochest: you are not.

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dojae-huh · 8 months ago

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Hello! Just want to say again that I'm glad I found your blog, your down-to-earth commentary, especially about the business side of it all, is very much appreciated :)

Hi. Thank you for letting me know, I'm glad you find some more down to earth posts useful. In part, I run this blog to offer an alternative in fandom experience.

Thing is, we, as k-pop fans and as people who don't work in showbusiness or South Korea, don't have enough knowledge, experience or inside information to have a strong educated opinion on most of things when it comes to idol companies and their executives. We can have opinions as customers - I like this music, this promotional strategy works on me, these outfits are ugly, this concept rocks -, but not as business analytics. Especially considering how much media play, false information and difference in cultures we face.

However, nowadays everyone has the illusion that they know better, that their opinion and feelings are valid when it comes to any topic. And spread and defend their opinion like it is the ultimate truth.

I've recently come across a twit starting with "it appears that" and ending with "for sure". In a span of a few sentences the fan offered an imaginary scenario and finished with a "this is truth". Of course to "prove" that SM is evil, heh. Such baseless statements easily play on fans' love for their biases, evoke an emotional response, call to arms, they give an answer to "Who is to blame?!", provide a target for unleashing frustration and anger.

When one solo-stan blames our bias, we can call bullshit because we know how things really are. When a fan blames Chris Lee or SM, other fans are ready to accept the words as believeable. Either because they share the sentiment, or have no own opinion on the matter, so any will do. If everyone around says the same thing, it should be true, afterall? That's how our brains are wired: follow the majority, agree with the tribe, mirror everyone's current emotion.

We can't see the inner works and we don't know the inner rules, but we can see the results of labour and sometimes a reflection of things.

When I came to k-pop, I knew SM as the company that overworks its artists, has lawsuits with them, is super strict. Broken in two halves TVXQ and EXO with half of its members gone weren't a good representation. So when I started to get to know NCT better, I started to wonder if I was lied to or that something had changed in SM (the latter). Neos were taught how to songwrite, SM persisted with good quality music for NCT despite the group not taking off right away, artists not looking slavelike, there was SMstation and interesting projects.

Sure, I can observe bad work: poorly prepared concerts (Link), constant failures with album production (omitting Doyoung's name, boring designs for 127), tasteless stylists, etc. However, I also see good work: artists flying first/business class and living in 5 star hotels, being given opportunity to go to the beach, museums, to enjoy sightseeing in new countries; opportunity to explore one's creativity (soundcloud, NCTLabs, solo performances for Link); SM giving artists second professions (MC, variety host, model) that will aid professional longevity (Doyoung hasn't finished school and doesn't have a degree, but I'm not worried for him, even if SM collapses, he'll always find a job. Same for Taeyong, he came as a blank page, now he is a songwriter and a producer, he can even become a choreographer); neos progressively being given more choice and say, their opinion being consulted and their ideas being implemented once they gain enough experience (Golden Dust story, Taeyong making his own setlist for his concert, Doyoung saying Unity should not have solo-stages, Ten choosing the mood and genre for his solo, etc).

Most importantly, I can see many friendships between neos and producers/managers, and that Haechan and Doyoung, who experienced all of SM's downsides personally and not once, continue to like the company. Meaning, the good should outweight the bad. At least for now.

Fans learnt the name of Chris Lee and continue to blame him for everything to this day, although he doesn't own any shares in SM and has stopped being a CEO a year ago. He is a token scapegoat.

Should I blindly trust fans or should I go read Wikipedia, interviews and listen to the guy himself? In situations like these I always choose the latter.

Sure, I can't tell if he evades taxes or participates in shady business, and what neos think of him (aside from Doyoung calling him "hyung" in public and not being afraid of getting punished for it), but I can see he was the person who overlooked all the early NCT songs (we have "Limitless", "Cherry bomb" thanks to him); created SMStation and SMClassics (say thank you for "Try again", "Star blossom"); found Dem Jointz ("Kick it", "Punch", "Sticker") and multiple other songwriters who now work for SM; brought to Korea the idea of songwriting camps, in which Kun participates nowadays and where he befriends foreign creators; invested SM money into a publishing company (and not a winery or a hotel business), which means SM artists will be secured to have a lot of songs to choose from in the future, and Korean young producers will have access to the global market. He has been with SM close to 20 years, and he is evidently a music nerd, ergo he understands artists and their love for music. So why should I hate him? I have no proof of him taking money away from neos, but I have evidence he was very essential to formation of NCT and the quality of SM sound being maintained. On the contrary, I'm inclined to suspect the quality of albums (song setlist, production) is raising again because he is back to supervising A&R in SM.

#ask me away #food all around chips all around #notes in the margins #chain reaction

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ad0rechuu · 1 year ago

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open . . . 📁⌗౨ৎ REQUESTS .ᐟ

[ REQUESTS : TEMPORARILY CLOSED ] ⋆ [ MASTERLISTS ] ⋆ [ ABOUT THE AUTHOR ]

i. ━━━━ THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW .ᐟ

before you request please keep in mind that my target audience for all fics is and will without exception always be people with dark skin, i’m not a native english speaker, also writing takes time some might be faster than others and i have the right to not write your request if i’m not interested or if it makes me uncomfortable, minors do not interact with 18+ works please and also don’t forget to read the rules!!

please don’t forget to give feedback, not only on my works but all works you read! i cannot stress enough how much it helps to motivate writers

ii. ━━━━ WHO I WRITE FOR .ᐟ

i will take requests for kpop and all obey me characters

i’ll mainly write for ━━ ateez: ot8, the boyz: ot11, stray kids: ot8, riize: ot7, aespa: ot4, seventeen: ot:13, red velvet: ot4, snsd: ot9, twice: ot9, itzy: ot5, onlyoneof: ot7, blackswan ot3 !

but i’ll also take requests for ━━ le sserrafim: ot5, nct: ot21, victon: ot7, astro: ot6, exo: ot11, mamamoo: ot4, g-idle: ot6, loona: ot12, shinee: ot5, stayc: ot6, nmixx: ot7, txt: ot5, purple kiss: ot7 !

iii. ━━━━ WHAT I WILL WRITE .ᐟ

headcanons/reactions, blurbs and smau scenarios requests are all encouraged, i’m not sure about full-length fics yet.

i’m okay with most genre’s and aus as long as i’m interested in it! i’ll write mostly gn! reader for shorter fics but f! reader is also okay and also dom, switch and sub reader

iv. ━━━━ WHAT I WON’T WRITE .ᐟ

ships, anything other than platonic for anyone born in 05 or later (or luke), marriage, anything discriminatory, m! reader, the good girl bad boy trope, pregnancy (but parenting is fine) !

i also won’t write a very specific reader or pale/short reader. please don’t send requests that aren’t exclusive or could potentially be hurtful/harmful to other readers either !

i’m not very well versed in nsfw but i’m willing to try but all though i prefer writing suggestive, there are limits of course: no water sports/scat, romanticization of abuse, noncon (cnc is okay), step/incest, gp! reader/pegging, mama or papa as a kink, race/age play, edging, anal !

v. ━━━━ HOW TO REQUEST;

please follow the layout down below somewhat when you send the ask, it would really help for me to keep things organized in my head:

character/idol (s): type of story: prompt and/or plot: any special mentions for the request:

you can combine prompts or a plot and prompts! also prompts don’t have to be from this list but if it’s not from the lists above or if you didn’t think of it yourself please link the list you got it from !!

and please remember: the less detail in the request the more artistic liberty i will take .ᐟ

#ad0rechuu — blog keeping #cromernet #obey me requests #kpop request #ateez requests #the boys requests #aespa requests #request #open requests #request open

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jungkookstatts · 2 years ago

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안녕하세요, 여러분!

[Translation]: Hello, everyone!

Hah, this makes me shy lol. Please bare with me.

Anyways, welcome to the blog!

Recently, I’ve been overcome with this gut feeling that I should finally launch this blog. I’ve been writing for years now, but I’ve always been so shy with social media, expressing personal self, and showcasing writings. So, I never really had the courage to post.

But, as apart of my new years resolution, I will let it all go and express myself like how I wanted to within the last few years. I am excited, nervous, and slightly razzled by the fact that I’m really going through with this. But I am ready.

A little about what I intend to post:

This will primarily be a BTS blog. Though I love every member, the majority of my writings are y/n scenarios with Namjoon, Yoongi, or Jungkook. I have writings for everyone; however, i tend to feel more confident with my writings with the prior three boys.

I do write 18+ scenarios, so adults only!! My writings will also always be female x male, not because I am against pairings with other genders, but because that is what I am most used to writing and am more familiar with. Still, if you identify as any other, you are always welcome to read. I intend to keep this space as a strict respectful zone to all people.

Another disclaimer: I do not own BTS or anyone else I choose to incorporate in my writings. I write with them in interest as apart of a fictional story — as a face and personality that is unique to them (in real life and in a story) — but never to disrespect, alter, or manipulate to fit my or others standards. Their respect comes with the respect of anyone else.

Now for formatting, here is how I will organize my writings in post:

Title

[picture heading]

Summary: [2-4 sentences]

Theme/Tags: [EX: Highschool!AU, Non-Idol!AU, Yoongi x best friend’s sister!AU, etc.]

Rating/Disclaimer: [18+/A/Smut/S/Mature/M , Fluff/F, Angst, Romance, etc…]

Word Count: [x,xxx words]

Author’s Note: [me blabbling]

A little about me:

Hi!

You can call me Sae, if you’d like.

I am a double-major, third-year university student! I do take Korean there! It has been just about a year and a half since I started learning it, and I love it to the core. It is really such a beautiful language and culture, and I am so glad I went through with taking it. I could talk about it for hours!

As for BTS, I have been a fan since I was in 8th grade…so 2015-2016? My first ever bias was Taehyung…ofc lol. However, I have been a Yoongi bias since around 2017-ish. Bias wrecker? I bet you can’t guess…Namjoon and Jungkook. Unfortunately or fortunately (however you view it), BTS was the only group I was able to fully get into and know. I love and listen to other groups like TXT, EXO, ATEEZ, Red Velvet, TWICE, etc. But I never got fully into them to the extent I did BTS.

As for other fics or posts you might see around here, I am a hard-core weeb. So, you might see some anime character’s on here. However, with a recent off-the-bandwagon mishap since entering uni, it has been quite a while since I have even watched a show. I intend to get back into it. We will see where life takes me.

So, yeah! I hope you like what I end up posting! Feedback is always appreciated. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out!

Again, I do not tolerate hate, disrespect, or anything malicious on my blog. If I suspect or if it is outwardly posted that someone intends on coming after me or anyone else on this blog, you will be reported, blocked, and otherwise removed from my page. Please remember human decency and practice being kind to others!!

Other than that, happy holidays and happy new year! 휴일 잘 즐기고 새해 복 많이 받으세요!

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cigaretteparfum-library · 2 years ago

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I Isekai’d Myself From the Afterlife Before the Angels Had the Chance to Assign Me Heaven or Hell and Now I’m On the Run with Hot Guys in Another Dimension Because ACAB Also Includes Heaven Lapdogs

Yes, that is the title.

Genre: Isekai fantasy Rating: M(18+) Pairing: Fem!Reader/EXO Content: Isekai tropes, Fem protagonist, angels, mentions of various religious beliefs, nudity (not explicit), stupid jokes and scenarios probably only I find funny (thowwy), pretty excessive use of the word mid, Yixing and Kyungsoo got introduced in the last third, slightly inaccurate title because technically she already got assigned a place but whatever Word count: 5k

Taglist: @eternalnostos - once upon a time you said you wanted to read something I write should I eventually publish it .... Probably not what you asked for but hey. :>

01.

You were born exactly nine thousand and a hundred thirty days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-seven minutes ago—and during all those times, you have barely achieved anything remarkable.

Despite all of your best efforts, people barely spare a glance to look at you. You were such a docile child that your own parents often forgot you existed; far too occupied by your more rebellious sister only an hour older. Your grades in school were okay: always a few decimals above the minimum score to pass; maybe exactly one point if you were particularly lucky. All the clubs you tried to join during those years were either inactive, got disbanded soon, or required monthly administration fees way above your allowance. You had a few friends in elementary school, in junior high, and then high school—but none so close that you managed to stay in touch past graduation. While most of your peers continued to university or college, you settled for a below minimum wage job at a minimarket chain. Money wasn’t exactly a problem, though, because your parents still financially supported you out of obligation and societal norms. You know them only as much as they know you—which is to say: not at all. But you know a little bit more about your sister who now makes over three times what you make by working in a bank, if only because she likes to boast and will literally not leave you alone.

But the gist of it is this: You are mid. You are so mid that the word mid itself would rather not have anything to do with you. You are fine; not good, not bad—just fine. And because of that, you have only been cruising through life, letting each day pass without doing much except fulfilling the bare minimum of what you’re supposed to do.

And that is why, precisely nine thousand and a hundred thirty days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-nine minutes after you were born, walking past a construction site where they were lifting a huge metal beam that falls right above your head and killing you may be the most remarkable thing that happen in your life—

You die on the morning of your twenty-fifth birthday, but you don’t even actually make it past the last minute of your twenty-fourth year.

In a blink of an eye, you’re transported elsewhere.

You stand in a long, singular line of people in the middle of pure white nothingness, among other people who look just as confused and disoriented as you. “What’s going on?” you hear someone ask before you get the chance to. “Where am I? Who are you people?!”

YOU ARE INSIDE THE SPACE OF ASSIGNMENT, a voice booms. It comes from everywhere: it comes from your sides, from your front and back, and also inside your head. Your mind recognises it as something otherworldly, perhaps even divine—but it fills you with dread and sends a chill down your spine. Whatever the source of this voice is, you don’t like it. ALL OF YOU STANDING HERE HAVE DIED. WAIT FOR YOUR DEEDS TO BE JUDGED—YOU WILL BE ASSIGNED A PLACE IN HEAVEN OR HELL.

“What the fuck—” another voice from somewhere in the queue shouts. “I’m an atheist! You’re telling me now that god and afterlife exist?”

THEY ALWAYS HAVE.

Someone else clears their throat. “Does this mean I have attained moksha?”

I CANNOT SAY.

“From what religion are you?”

I CANNOT SAY.

Amidst all of the chaos and shouting questions and confusion, you realise that you are now able to see something far ahead: some kind of a throne; or maybe a desk is more appropriate. A massive figure sitting behind it is bathed in bright light—no, the figure is the source of that bright light. You have to squint your eyes to see, but you think that figure has a dozen of folded wings on its back and several heads above what should be its torso, looking down at whatever poor bastard is standing before it. Once every few moments one of the wings touches something in front of it, and when that happens you move closer to where that being sits.

You look behind you and there seems to be a far longer line compared to what’s in front of you. People die like flies, you realise. But the judging process—or assignment, as the voice said—goes about on par with the speed of which people are dying and appearing. The dread in your stomach multiplies by tenfold when you notice that the desk and the looming figure behind it are even closer than before. While all the new people farther behind are shouting many variations of the questions you’ve heard only moments before, you look down, trying to plant your feet on the ground—it’s no use; you keep moving forward either way.

WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FIGHT IT? the voice asks. You look up and there it is: the source of that voice.

It’s an angel; you’re sure of it now. Four feet standing apart—your height barely reaches the middle of its shin. You crane your head back and squint against the light emanating from this figure, somewhere around its head—heads, to be precise. Two hands on each side extending to create wings that hold one massive sword—pointed directly at you.

LET GO OF YOUR FIGHT. IT IS OF NO USE.

“But I—” Your frantic eyes dart to the start of the line up ahead. You are now maybe only forty people away from it. “I’m just some gal. I never do anything good or bad. How am I going to be judged?”

One person removed from the line. YOU ARE NEITHER THE FIRST NOR THE LAST TO BE NOTHING OF REMARK.

In other words, you’re just one mid among billions of mids that the angels have judged—assigned. You shut your eyes close. Another person removed.

YOU HAVE NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. YOU NEED NOT TO BE ANYTHING OF SIGNIFICANCE TO HAVE YOUR PLACE ASSIGNED.

Those are the same things you’ve told yourself over and over and over and over and over again in your life. When your parents asked what will you aim to achieve in life. When your sister asked if you ever dreamed to be something more—something less boring and mundane. You always said: It’s okay to not have high achievement. There’s no sin in being mid. The remarkable are few; the mids are majority of people.

How quick death changes things. What used to soothe your insecurity is now what threatens to fling you over the edge of panic. You don’t even know panic attacks are a thing that can happen in death. You don’t even know that you can experience panic attacks.

There is no relief in those words. Suddenly you realise how little you’ve made of your life. How little you’ve done. Your life flashes before your eyes as several dozen more people removed from the line: it’s nothing. From birth to death, you can’t recall any moments that make you particularly happy, sad, or angry; moments that make you feel ashamed or proud. There is only one thing—

Regret.

Suddenly you don’t want to die. Suddenly all of this becomes real: you’ve died, and there are only nine more people before it’s your turn to be judged. How did you even die? It wasn’t some grand defeat after battling an illness for a long time, like your grandfather; it wasn’t some tragedy born out of a heroic sacrifice, like your aunt—no; you died because you got unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and you didn’t look up. The construction workers probably didn’t even notice that you were there until you went splat.

No, no, no. No no no no no. You absolutely cannot go out like this. There are so many things you have yet to do! In fact, the list is so long that you may as well say there are still everything to do. You existed, but you haven’t lived—you’ve never lived. And you can’t even blame it on other people—you were far too content to be nothing remarkable. Now, that feeling of content morphs into a feeling of loss. Fear. Regret. An insurmountable weight of regret.

Two more people left before your turn. LET GO OF THE FIGHT, the voice warns you for the last time. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE THAT YOU CAN DO NOW.

No, there’s still something. There has to be.

The seven headed angel with a dozen wings and no limbs judges the deeds, and each time it makes its decision one of its wings touches what you now can see as a golden staff laid atop the desk. When that staff is touched, the person being judged disappears and the line moves forwards. An idea strikes. Maybe it’s some sort of a transportation device. Maybe, if you’re able to touch it ….

But how? The desk is as massive as three adults standing on top of each other, and eleven more standing in a row. Only a part of it peeks through the top edge of the surface—you can’t possibly jump that high.

Then you’ll have to climb.

You move forwards once again, and as the last person standing before you is being judged, you squint your eyes against the light, trying to find something to grasp and hook your feet on to climb. Just touch it. You just need to try to touch the staff; that is your last and only hope.

The other angel that spoke to you has moved back and you’re as good as non-existent to the angel doing the judging. The feet of the desk are intricately crafted depictions of people seemingly with eternal joy on the left and unending torment on the right, with each crafted body of a person about half of your height. Before you let your dying mind think and open the gates for the second-guesses to flood in, you dash out of line and start to climb.

“Hey, look at her!”

“Oi, what the fuck?!”

“Is that allowed?!”

As commotion begins to erupt and you feel a sudden heat coming from everywhere, engulfing your entire being, you grit your teeth and keep scaling the foot of the desk. You’ve never climbed before; never had to. But the fire lit inside your chest burns with only one thought:

I want to live.

A force tries to yank you away from the leg—must be the angel. You bite down, clamping your toes on the sculpture and your fingers clawed. The force grows stronger—it’s like being sucked by gravity right behind your back—but your will is even stronger than that. Who knew you had it in you? Then you hear the whoosh of something swinging before the pain of your back being slashed explode. You scream. You climb higher.

INSOLENT HUMAN—

I want to live.

HOW DARE YOU—

I want to live.

GET BACK IN LINE.

I want to LIVE.

You get to the top and all seven heads of the angel behind the desk turn towards you. For a moment the light dims enough for you to be able to see the entirety of its seven faces, and it’s all eyes staring directly at you.

And its voice, calm, a stark difference of the other angel huffing behind and above you, simply says:

YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED HELL.

“Well, fuck you!”

You leap just before the gravity sucks you back, and for a split second, your fingers touch the staff.

You touched it.

The force that has been trying to keep you away from the staff—from the judging desk—flings you back, farther back, past the blurring faces of people staring in shock, and even farther back, until you pass the last person who has died during this moment, and you don’t stop.

There is a constant sound that fills your ears as you shoot backwards, and it’s only when your throat bleeds that you realise it has been the sound of you screaming. The heat that engulfed you has morphed into fire burning your hair—your clothes—your skin—until you feel nothing as it has burnt all of your nerves and now begins to consume your bones as well. But your consciousness remains, floating somewhere inside your skull, even as you are blinded in all of your senses. And there is only one thought:

I touched it.

There are noises.

There are a lot of noises.

And the smell—of something burnt, but also: the smell of dirt. The soft smell of dense trees you never noticed until the small forest near your house was cut down in favour of new houses. The pungent smell of insects. The smell of skin, iron, and sweat.

You blink your eyes open and it explodes. Something vibrates in your throat—your vocal chords, screaming. Your limbs flail as you scramble to shut your eyes; the bright light penetrates past your lid even after you close them, and it hurts. It hurts so bad after those moments of utter blindness when you—

When you flew.

There are more noises, some that you’ve heard before: voices of people; of men. They speak in a language you don’t understand, but their tones are frantic and—maybe—worried. Hands wrapped around your arms, around your shoulders; they try to pry your hands away from your eyes but you cry and you cry and you try to push them away—or push yourself away—but you can’t make right from left and you bump into something solid and warm.

You scream. You quiver. You realise you’re as naked as a newborn. You feel something soft wrapped around your body—a cloak. The voices soften and a hood is pulled above your head. Something flat and cylindrical pressed on your lips while steady hands flat on your back between your shoulder blades. That thing pressed on your lips is tilted gently and your head follows; cold, fresh water flows in.

At that point, keeping your eyes closed, your own hands grab the water container. You expected your palms to meet a bottle, but it’s instead flat and wide. It doesn’t matter—you snatch it away from the hand that previously held it and greedily gulp down its content until you choke and you cough, spitting a little bit of water—somewhere.

You gasp and you fold your body forwards, clutching your fist to your chest, you feel the rapid heartbeat inside. Under the shades of the hood you finally dare yourself to open your eyes, and you see your thick bare legs peeking out of the cloak—and the cracked, dry ground underneath them.

You pull your hands away from your body, staring at them in awe as you curl and uncurl your fingers on your palm, not even caring about the water container you just dropped and now spills water into the ground. One foreign hand reaches out over your legs you instinctively press together to avoid contact—but it’s only interested in retrieving the container. The voice that belongs to the body behind you speaks again, calmer now, with a gentle tone that has a hint of curiosity in it.

Turning your head around, you squint to look at that person. It is indeed a man: maybe a few years older than you, but not by much; strong brows, heart-shaped lips, and short hair. He speaks again, but you only shake your head.

“I can’t—” Your voice is hoarse and it sounds alien. “I don’t understand—”

The man speaks again—or maybe it’s a question, judging by his raised brows and higher tone at the end. You shake your head, and he gestures … something. “I don’t—”

The other man speaks. He’s still cloaked and his face is shrouded with shadows, but you’re able to catch a glimpse of a dimple on his cheek and pouty bottom lips. He doesn’t speak to you—not now—and the other man on your right responds.

Both of them rise and the cloakless man offers you his hand as he speaks gently. You tighten your grip on the front of his cloak wrapped around you before accepting his help. His grip is strong and steady, but not overpowering, as he pulls you up to stand. Your legs stagger for a moment, and both men have their arms stretched to keep you steady, but your feet manage to find their footing without you falling.

Birds chirp as they fly in a group way above your head in the sky and the wind rustles the leaves and the grass—or what’s left of them anyway.

As you look around, you realise that you are standing right in the centre of a massive crater where everything in it has died. Outside the perimeter trees stand and grass softly dances on the ground; it’s all green and lush—except the circle about as big as your city hall. Some dark, big logs lie on the ground, facing away from you; sticks cracking and splintering from them. Those were trees.

“Am I alive?” you hear yourself asking. “Is this hell?”

The men speak and they try to get your attention while your mind replays the last few moments that you remember: of your entire being slowly burning away, of the gravity pulling you away in that room of white nothingness, and that seven-headed angel telling you that you were going to hell. But how is this hell? Even the sculptures on that desk of judgement depicted torment as some representation of hell. This is … this is something else.

And then you remember: you touched the staff.

The staff. Maybe it worked. Maybe your spur-in-the-moment, entirely-bonkers-completely-out-of-pure-guess method worked. Maybe the staff was a teleportation device and when you touched it—

One of the men—the one still cloaked—shouts. Your head whips towards him, then back around when you notice him pointing at something behind you, and for a split second before the impact: you see the staff flying towards you.

“OW!” It thwacks squarely on your face with enough force you send you tumbling backwards. The men move quickly to help you up again just after they assisted you to stand—but then the cloaked man accidentally touches the staff and he hisses.

He hisses?

The cloakless man throws one side of your cloak to better hide your exposed legs after you fall, but you’re too busy trying to find that staff on the ground to spare a thought about decency at the moment. It’s laying a few metres away from you; rolling off after assaulting your face and maybe after the cloaked man accidentally hit it away. You scramble on all fours to quickly reach it and—there is no doubt. This is the staff.

You hold the length in your hands. It’s much smaller now, but you remember its head—the part that peeked through the edge. It was four handles curving away from the centre like a fountain with a flat top; the base engraved with inscription snaking up to where the four handles depart from the staff. As you run your fingers over the engraving, you somehow understand what it says: Behold the power bestowed by the grace of The One, for it accomplishes function as desired.

Below the engraving is thirteen rings that reflect lights with a rainbow effect to your eyes; the gold disappearing. It stops right in the middle of the staff where it turns into a smooth and naked surface, leading to its end where it mirrors the top with the four handles; only it has one right instead of thirteen.

Slowly, you stand. You cradle the staff in your arms like a baby, then you let your grip on its girth loose until its bottom touches the ground; a booming sensation shakes you to your core.

You look at the two men and they look just as startled as you.

Your legs are still a little bit too unsteady for you to walk, even if you have been able to stand upright. The staff is quite sturdy and balanced, and while its top, reaching up to your chest, is slightly too tall for you to walk and hold it by its four handles, you can wrap your hand around the part the inscription is engraved instead.

Just before you take your first step properly on your feet, you feel that chill of dread running through your body. The men all scream as they press their hands tight to their ears and you hear your name called by that voice you still remember from the space of nothing.

YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND.

The voice—as it was previously—comes from everywhere, but without even looking you know where the angel truly comes from. You turn your head to your left and there it floats on the sky: with its three heads, four winged hands, and four feet planted flat on air as though it’s standing on something solid. Your stomach churn—you are certain all of its eyes are fixed on you.

It calls your name again with that same booming voice echoing inside your head. YOU HAVE DIED, AND YOU SHALL REMAIN DEAD. GIVE UP THE FIGHT NOW OR YOU WILL REGRET IT SOON ENOUGH.

“RUN!” you shout to the men. “Go!” You limp past them. “Run away! GO!!”

But then the wind blows and the angel floats right in front of you. That one sword—your back twitches when you remember its slash—pointed to the ground; not at you. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING.

You hold the staff up high. When the angel speaks again, its neutral tone now carries a hint of mockery. THAT STAFF ONLY OBEYS SERVANTS OF GOD ITSELF, the angel says. AN INSIGNIFICANT HUMAN LIKE YOU—

“Behold the power bestowed!” you shout, completely ignoring what the angel is saying. “By the grace of The One! For it accomplishes—”

YOU HAVE DIED, the angel lifts its sword, its blade glinting under the midday sun. TO DEATH YOU SHALL RETURN.

“—function as desired!”

The sword swings down and the earth splits in two underneath your feet. You stare up at the angel, somehow it doesn’t look as big as it once was—then your field of vision widens when each half of your cut body drifts away from one another.

But I want to live, your halved brain thinks.

HELL IS WHERE YOU SHALL FIND YOURSELF IN, you hear the angel continues despite being sliced clean in half. NO MORE CHANCE OF BEING JUDGED OTHER—

The solemn and neutral face of the angel drops as your bodies rise and knit itself back into one. BUT THAT—

Your hand wraps around that inscription engraved to the staff, its words clear in your mind as it vibrates under your grip, releasing an odd warmth that spreads to your whole body as that fire once again lights inside your chest. But it’s different than the fire that burns you down to your core; it’s not the angel’s fire—it’s yours. And the staff has responded to you.

For the second time.

“I guess I am an angel now, too,” you hear yourself saying.

The angel finds its resolve back. It lifts the sword once again with harder determination on its faces. I SHALL NOT DETER. YOU WILL DIE—

You open your mouth to scream, “Away!” and the staff burns in your hand when you swing it hard towards the angel. It can’t have possibly made contact with it, but as though blown by a torpedo the angel is flung backwards and away, flying far into the sky until it’s nothing more than a quickly fading glint of light.

Your chest rises and falls with each deep breath that you take; the staff gradually loses its fire and with it—its warmth. You return it back to its position as a cane to keep you steady and you slowly turn around, finding the two men curled up on the ground, hands still flat on their ears, tears running down their faces.

“You guys okay?” you ask, taking one unsure step closer. They may be strangers, but since you woke they have been nothing but helping, and you feel like it would be rude to pretend like they don’t exist. “I don’t know if I can help you stand, I’m sorry—”

“What was that?!” the cloakless man shouts. “What just happened?!”

“Long story,” you say. It’s actually not. “But anyway, it’s—”

You stop. And you stare down at the two men while they try to push themselves off the ground with shaking limbs. “Wait,” you hold one hand out, “pause. I can understand you?”

This seems to also be news to them. “I can understand you,” the cloakless man responds. “No, we can understand you.”

The cloaked man tilts his head back under the hood. “You speak Wahjani? What was all that, then?”

“Wahja—no,” you correct, “you are speaking my language.”

“No,” he retorts. “You are speaking our language.”

“No, I don’t!” You fling both hands out to emphasise, and you lose your grip on the staff. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you grumble as you try to retrieve it.

One of the men speaks—but it’s back to that language you don’t know. You look at him, eyebrows knitted and eyes wide. “What?” you ask.

He blinks, staring at you perplexed. He repeats what he just said but it’s no different—you still can’t understand a word that he’s saying. “I don’t,” you say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the staff, “understand you.”

“What the hell?” the cloakless man mutters. Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. “You suddenly switch languages.”

All three of you instantly shift your gazes to the staff in your hand. “Is it …?” the cloaked man asks, doubtful but intrigued. You drop the staff back to the ground.

“Okay, now try saying something,” you tell them. They stare at you blankly, shaking their heads after a moment of silent confusion. You bend down to pick the staff up. “Okay, how about now?”

“By the Gods!” the man in cloak points. “It really is the staff!”

“It must be,” you agree, observing the decorated staff in your hand, running your thumb across the inscription. It did perform its function as desired: you wanted the angel to be gone, and it helped you accomplish that. But maybe it also fulfils other things you are not actively wishing for at the moment. Surely being able to communicate is something to want.

You’re interrupted from your thoughts by an awkward clearing of the throat. You divert your gaze and see both men are looking away, with the cloakless man vaguely pointing towards your direction. “I suppose,” he begins, “if we are able to understand each other, it’s—eh—it’s best to let you know that ….”

His voice trails off while his complexion deepens. You look down—and your borrowed cloak is open. You have been thoroughly exposed. With a yelp you turn around and fuss with the front of the cloak, trying to find a way to keep them closed. The staff has fallen off your grip—again—so while you’re able to recognise the voice that approaches you from behind to be belonging to the cloaked man, you can’t understand what he’s trying to say until he gently puts his hand above your hand, and he pulls two ties from a hidden pocket on the sides. You hold the cloak tightly closed on your chest and your stomach while he secures them with a knot above your waist. “Thank you,” you mutter, too embarrassed to look up. Then you remember that your hands are not holding anything—and the other man hands you the staff. “Thank you,” you repeat once it’s firm in your hand. “To both of you.”

They each nod while looking away. You can’t blame them—you yourself wish you can simply disappear into the ground. Your breath hitches as you quickly bring the staff to your chest. No, no, I don’t actually want that. Please don’t make me disappear into the ground.

After a beat of suspense—and perhaps recovery from the awkwardness for the men—you release your breath and hold the staff as a cane again. “Anyway,” you say in a low voice. The men lean their head in closer. “Thanks for all the help. And sorry for all the … disturbance.” You grimace. What a criminally massive understatement. “I’m—”

Then you stop. Should you introduce yourself? That surely is the right thing to do. But if this isn’t hell, and somehow your wish to live—not merely existing—has been granted by the staff upon that first touch, shouldn’t you take this chance to start anew? A clean slate where you get to decide everything to do with yourself—including your name. You never quite liked your parents’ choice, anyway.

With the men expecting you to continue, you quickly pick the first name that pops into your head. It’s just a placeholder, you reassure yourself. I can change that whenever.

But when they repeat your new name back to you slowly, as though tasting the way it’s sounding, you realise that you actually like it. Maybe even by a lot. It fits you like a glove and fills you with more joy than you can ever imagine a name is able to.

“Well, I’m Kyungsoo, that’s Yixing,” the cloakless man says. “We were just trekking through the forest when we saw a meteor falling down. When we came to check—”

“There was you,” Yixing finishes.

You heave a deep sigh as you turn to once again take in all of your surrounding: the dense and tall trees circling the crater where you wake up in the centre of. Then you aim your sight to the sky—the same spot the angel first appeared earlier. “Do you …,” Kyungsoo begins, almost unsure, “... want to tell us exactly what happened?” You look at him. “It was really confusing—there was a sound, then there was this bright light ….”

“I told you it’s a long story.”

“And the nearest town is about three days by foot,” he says. Then he adds with a nod: “Believe me—we have time.”

You consider that for a moment. He speaks as though he’s entirely sure that you’ll come along with them. Of course, that’s a logical assumption: until mere minutes ago it seemed like you couldn’t communicate with them. You are definitely not familiar with the area, and for all they know you came from outer space as a meteor. Moreover, as you assume they assume: you are a woman, naked and alone, with nothing but a staff and a borrowed cloak. They’ve seen what you’re able to do, so maybe they won’t try to do anything funny. And from your point of view, it’s clear that sticking with them would be advantageous—if nothing else, you can find your way out. You look down at the staff in your hand. Especially when you don’t even know if you’ll be able to use this staff like you did earlier.

“All right, fine,” you finally say. “Lead the way. I’ll tell you everything I remember.”

#this story idea came when i was just shitposting lmfao #but i had so much fun writing it i hope you'll find some joy reading it too ^_^#scentlacigarette #series: I Isekai'd Myself...#RPF #EXO fic #EXO x Reader #EXO/Reader #Yixing fic #Yixing x Reader #Kyungsoo fic #Kyungsoo x Reader

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