#anyway i woke up and made the mistake of reading the comments in an article discussing AC as a right in oregon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Forty percent of Tumblr users are between the ages of 18 to 25.

#anyway i woke up and made the mistake of reading the comments in an article discussing AC as a right in oregon

demwhore · 4 years

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

462 notes · View notes

argumentl · 3 years

Text

The Freedom of Expression Ep 49 - Ioka Kazuto's New Years Eve tattoo problem.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome again this week.

T: What is the celebratory sake for?

K: Well, this is our first recording of the new year..

J: Yes

T: Happy New Year

J: Happy New Year. By the time this is broadcast it will already be well into January though.

K: Yes, so..for good luck.

J: Ah, that would be welcome....but Im not gonna drink it.

K: Why?

J: Um, I've said this a few times before, but my resolution for 2021 is to not go so crazy when drinking alcohol, to not get too carried away.

T: Hahaha

J: I've already decided on it.

K: Don't you always say that?

J: No, no, no. Um, recently...was it on the 27th? After the live broadcast? I left afterwards with Tasai.

T: Oh, yeah.

J: We left together, we got a taxi. Then when I arrived home, it was about 2am, right? When I tried to get in my house, I didn't have my keys.

T, K: Eh?!

T: Really??

J: I didn't have my keys..what could I do? I think i actually left them somewhere before i arrived here, and I hadn't been drinking before that. But in the end, I went to a hotel in my neighborhood...like, please let me stay here, I'll pay so please let me stay. So, I woke up the next day and called the real estate agent to ask if they had a spare key..they didn't. They said they'd given all the keys to me. So, I called around a few other places, and by about lunch time I managed to get hold of a key. But I had to go and do a live radio broadcast in this kind of messed up state, so..

T: Eh?!

J: Well, I mean, it wasn't the fault of alcohol this time, but I have lost my pocket wifi before while I was drunk, and my glasses...and Im constantly telling dirty jokes while drunk...so this year..., well, I will drink alcohol, but Im not gonna go wild.

T: Hahaha

K: Thats impossible!

J, T: Hahaha

Kami: Joe san, Joe san...

J: Oh, Kami? What is it? Kami's here.

Kami: Joe, you've become a boring guy.

J, T: Hahaha

Kami: You're trying to play it safe.

J: No, no, no. Can I really carry on? Drinking and going crazy this year too?

Kami: You need to be free. Please don't hold yourself back.

J: Haha

T: When we were going home in the taxi, you said, 'I think I've messed up'...

J: I was doing a bit of self-reflecting.

T: Your true voice slipped out.

J: I think it did.

K: What? Why, what happened again?

T: Yeah, what was it again?

J: Well, I think it was me just going a bit wild. It felt like I got carried away.

T: You felt that in yourself?

J: Well, I do, don't I? When I drink alcohol?

K: Well, yeah.

J: Kaoru, we've done a lot of events together, right?

K: Yeah, most of the time I'm like, 'Joe, calm down!'

J: And Im supposed to be the moderator!

T: You change places!

J: Right!

K: Also, he had to read out things written in Katakana and stuff, but he couldn't read the difficult words*1

J: There are a few reasons for that. After I've had a drink, I can't read difficult kanji, and also I have bad eyesight. Katakana has loads of spaces in it, right?

T: Maybe we should have let Tasai do it.

T: Yeah, I should have done the reading.

J: Kanji just turns into clumps.

K: Ok, well, today...Tasai, could you get us started?

T: Yes, this is about the big match on last New Years Eve. Its boxing news. It was the WBO super flyweight title match between Ioka Kazuto and Tanaka Kōsei. Ioka won the match, but this news deals with a slightly different aspect. Ioka's tattoos were visible during the match. The boxing commission have said this is a violation of the rules, and are considering imposing a penalty. Questions have been arising on social media like, 'Isn't this a mistake?', and, 'What about individual freedom?' Did you watch the match, Kaoru?

K: No, I didn't, but I saw it on the news.

T: Yeah. And, Ioka had actually covered his tattoos with foundation to hide them before getting in the ring, but sweating made the foundation come off.

J: I see.

T: So, its become a bit of a talking point, what to think about this.

K: This isn't the first time he's done this, right? He covered his tattoos before in other fights?

T: Yeah, to stop the foundation coming off he...

K: But foundation?...can you really hide them with foundation?

J: Haha, yeah, maybe not. They are too solid. So, he went ino the ring without foundation this time?

T: No, he had it on, but it came off with sweat.

J: Wouldn't that happen anyway?

K: If it did, that means its come off everytime up to now.

J: Right? Its not like its only come off this time. Its hard to understands why the JBC are raising this problem only now?

T: Well, its in the rules. The rules for matches are...in the rulebook, Match management section 4, conditions for boxers article 86, it says for things that make spectators feel uncomfortable, such as tattoos...if a boxer has tattoos, they must not appear in the ring.

J: Oh, thats written?

T: Yes, thats written in the rules. There have been cases in the past of boxers getting tattoos surgically removed in order to be able to compete in the ring.

J: Im not sure about this. Feeling uncomfortable just by seeing a tattoo...?

K: Regular people do though, don't they?

J: Do they?

K: Not people like us here, regular people are different.

J: Haha, of course.

K: But its Japanese people...foreigners have seen tattoos as pretty normal for quite a long time.

J: Right. Their police even have tattoos.

K: But we havn't got there in Japan yet. They are still thought of as scary. Even me, if I see someone with tattoos walk in, I don't say anything to them, but I do notice and look at them if they have tattoos.

J: Well..

K: You look though, right?

J: Well, I would think 'oh, they have tattoos'.

K: Yeh, but you would say ????*2

J: Well...

K: You would!

J: Would I? But...this is boxing, right? The spectators have come to watch people hitting each other.

K: Well, yeah, thats right.

J: For example, if a kabuki actor suddenly revealed tattoos all over their body, I have a feeling it wouldn't go down well with people who are going to see traditional arts, but if they are going to see people punching each other, would they be that bothered about tattoos?

K: Its because the rules havn't changed since a long time ago.

J: Yeah. Hmm, Im not sure about this. What's it like overseas?

T: Its totally fine overseas.

J: Its ok, right?

K: They don't mind if foreigners have them.

J: Ah, foreign boxers with tattoos are allowed to fight in Japan?

T: Yes.

K: So I think this is good. It could change how we do things *3

J: Yeah, it creates a stir, because there are quite a lot of people who know about this old rule. Um, even at events and stuff (I MC at a lot of events), some guests are instructed to wear long sleeeves when they attend. This is what Japan is like with tattoos.

T: But I think I read somwhere that the NBA also has the rule to cover tattoos. Like, they will wear armbands and stuff to cover them.

K: Even in baseball, the Giants have banned facial hair.

J: Have they?

T: The Giants have an unwritten code, let me think who had a beard....do you remember Ogasawara Michihiro/Gatz?

J: Oh yeah, the left handed player?

T: Yeah, when he joined the Giants he shaved it all off etc. That type of thing still happens, even now. Have a look next time the Giants play, none of them have facial hair.

J: I don't think foreign players will like these rules that Japanese have. This seems like its against the Constitution. It really does.

Kami: Its discrimination, right?

J: Yes, I agree.

Kami: Nishinari people are sensitive to discrimination.

J: Yeah, I mean, if they are gonna have this rule, they should ban tattoos for everyone in boxing, but to say its ok for foreign boxers but not Japanese ones.. its a bit...

Kami: Its unconstitutional. Its discrimination.

J: Yeh, I think its discrimination. But looking at some of the comments, some say that although its written in the rules, it can't be helped these days.

Kami: Its not fair though, letting Ioka get this incredible win, and then afterwards saying, actually, no.

T: Yes, thats right.

Kami: When I was younger I won at pachinko..

J: Haha, all of a sudden..

Kami: I had quite a babyface, and would get mistaken for being underage. They never said anything to me when I lost...

T: But when you handed in your tickets they told you no because you're underage?

Kami: Yeah, yeah. Even though they said nothing to me when I was losing. Its like they come to stop you after you start winning.

T: I see.

Kami: They will take all the benefits, but when it starts to get unfavorable...I sense that unfairness.

T: Ah, yeh. Well, its true that the boxing commission already knew that Ioka had tattoos. And they asked him to take part.

J: Yeah. Its not like he got the tattoos right before this match.

T: Thats right. Incidentally, he got this particular tattoo in America in 2018, September, to show resovle and determination for his comeback fight. And this time, he has also added his son's name as if to say 'lets fight together'.

J: Oh, thats a nice meaning....Sue them!

T: Sue them?

J: Yes, Tokyo Sports should sue them.

T: Why just us? haha. We should together.

J: ???*4

K: I wonder how this will turn out though.

J: Yeah. Is Ioka following the boxing commission then?

T: He is still waiting to see what they decide.

J: Ah, ok.

T: He is still waiting for their judgment.

J: So like, it will depend on the level of punishment he gets.

K: They'll just say its the rules.

T: In that case, he might just go to America, if he can't fight any matches in Japan.

J: Well, yeah.

T: I think this would be a bigger problem if it happened outside the ring. But its happened within the ring. Its still a fact that tattoos are seen as scary in this culture.

K: It seems so to me, speaking as a person who has tattoos.

J: Thats what you have felt from experience?　Exactly.

K: But you could say that he knew this when he got the tattoos. He knew they would tell him to stop.

T: Like, boxers definitely understand this.

K: He knows it, but he is still appearing in the ring, so if he has determination and resolve, its great. If he doesn't, its no surprise if he gets complaints.

J, T: I see.

J: Well, considering he did try to hide it, but the covering just came off, I wonder what will happen. Its not like he can wear clothes over it, right?

K: He could have put tape on it.

J: Oh, right, you can hide it like that too?

T: Yeah, there might be something like skin coloured tape.

J: Kami, can we have a last word from you on this?

Kami: Well, whatever the rules, making them only apply to Japanese is strange, right?

J: Well, yes, thats true. We'll have to keep a look out for what happens with this from now on.

K: Well, yeh.

T: To see how it develops, yeh.

K: Yeah. Kami seemed a bit lacking in vitality today, didn't he?

J: Yeah, he seems down. Kami, did something happen to you at new year time?

Kami: No, no, Im fine! Don't I sound it?

K: You sound like you are lacking a bit of punch.

J: With it being boxing, you'd expect him to have more 'punch'.

K: He just seemed a bit...regular.

J: Yeah.

Kami: Regular? haha.

K: He's laughing, haha.

T, J: Haha

J: The staff are making me laugh.

K: Ok, shall we finish here for today?

J: Yes

K: Ok, please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1, 3 Not sure this is right.

*2, 4 Couldn't make out

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

16 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 3 years

Text

Misunderstood - Part 4

아이구, 뺨에 뭐가 묻었구나. Oh, you’ve got something on your cheek.

Description: Taking everyday slow and steady is how your relationship with Soonyoung, the CEO of Starlight Entertainment, has been progressing. Life is still throwing its curveballs but you and Soonyoung stand up to them together. Though it’s been pretty smooth sailing, there are still a couple questions that need to be answered. [Someone requested a part 4 of this series and I’ve been pondering it for a while. I finally wrote it though it’s longer than I expected-oops. Enjoy!] Warnings: Swearing Genre: Angst, Fluff, CEO!Soonyoung/Hoshi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.1k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Soonyoung didn't understand what it was about you. Ever since the first day, he tried to do everything to avoid you in the assumption that you would be gone just as he was getting used to the idea of having someone around. But ever since the first day, no matter the battle Soonyoung was having with himself, the moment he saw you, the side that favored being close to you always won.

The first day you showed up to work, he didn't even know Ms. Lee had hired someone new. When he first saw you with Ms. Lee, Soonyoung began to worry that you were taking over her role and that she'd be leaving the company. When he learned that you were his secretary, he launched into the plan he used to push the others away so he wouldn't be the one hurt.

But you answered his first question with stories that a regular person would want to hear and he was shocked that you answered with that and not the expected stories from the entertainment industry like the others had.

That was the first crack you made in his 'I will live alone' resolve. The second happened on the same day: when his second wife came barging into his office, ranting about their divorce.

The other times she'd come by, causing a scene, his secretary would just sit there in silence and he was always the one to break it. That he hated the most. So when you spoke first, he was surprised, to say the least.

Then 6 months later, when his first wife showed up out of the blue, Soonyoung wanted to be buried millions of feet underneath the company building. He was embarrassed and a little angry that you had to be in the middle of it.

Soonyoung fought with himself that night. You had agreed to go home right away but only if he promised to leave before midnight. No one had ever made him promise something like that and a large chunk of the wall he'd put up crashed into a large cloud of dust inside his chest. With that promise, he knew you cared at least a little. And because of that care, he kept that promise. Though you never found that out.

In bed, Soonyoung tossed and turned debating whether or not to fire you or keep you. After all, it was HIS first wife who had attacked you in front of HIS office in HIS company building. Keeping you around when he thought you were for sure scared out of your wits would be wrong. Right?

Yet even with all that, you had started learning too much about him. Two wives with two tales and hundreds of news articles putting nasty labels on him. He had a feeling you would leave soon and he needed to protect himself from that hurt. Because if you left now, when you had outlasted all the others, he didn't know if he'd ever recover from that pain.

He hated to admit it, but he'd come to really enjoy your presence and your company. Soonyoung was cracking and he feared that the most. That he would completely open up to you and you would scowl and turn away.

But you made him promise to go home and sleep. You had cared enough to make sure he didn't stay at the company too late. You cared. That had to count for something.

Soonyoung continued this battle in the morning and on his way to the company. As his car pulled up to the front doors, he had decided that it would just be best if he let you go and he could save both of you from the inevitable, no matter how good the future possibilities looked. Because every time he got his hopes up, hell would raise from its grave and knock him back down.

But then he saw you. Standing in line at the cafe. And just like that, all his plans to let you go disappeared. He found himself walking over, frantically trying to figure out a way to apologize for what happened the night before. That plan ended up with him paying for your coffee and saying a few apologies before you caught on and forgave him.

This was new. Soonyoung never got the chance to apologize to the others so he didn't know if he was doing it right and he certainly didn't expect you to forgive him as easily as you did. He wanted to dive into it more with you but reality reminded him that he had others to watch over.

But that didn't stop his wall from crashing down bit by bit every day. Until a couple months later when he cautiously took the first step in allowing you in.

And after that, you and Soonyoung took each day slowly. You were all ready to read every story he had tucked behind his exterior shell but he was hesitant to show you everything all at once. Always afraid he'd show too much.

There were times when you would lie awake at night and ask yourself if he was someone you could really handle. But you always woke up with the resolve that you could and you would. Throughout the days, the articles would still come out and you would do your best to ignore them but damn was it hard. Every time an article would come out, you wondered if there was anyway for you to prove all the labels wrong. But you always came up empty.

A few months after you had begun to date, Soonyoung believed you shouldn't be working as his secretary anymore and moved you to work alongside Ms. Lee in HR. Though on occasion, you acted as Soonyoung's double and attended certain meetings and schedules in his place.

When he first mentioned the role to you, you felt a good deal of pride that he could trust you with this. And Soonyoung also felt some pride. Some for himself that he'd let you come this close to him. And some for you for being you and getting this close to him.

It was during one of those schedules that you ran into a way to dispute all the labels the media had been plastering over Soonyoung's image. Though you didn't know it at the time.

You were asked to attend a rehearsal for Basics's newest comeback. Soonyoung gave you a list of things to watch out for as this concept was kind of a tricky one. You took the list and made your way down to the large practice room where they were.

Opening the door, you're greeted by the group's 5 male members, Mark, Jino, Chan, Gavin, and Tae, who all had large smiles on their faces. News about your relationship with the CEO was successfully kept a secret... for a few weeks. Someone had leaked the gossip into the company but Soonyoung was quick to keep it contained to the company staff and not the public.

"Ms. (y/l/n), over here." Their manager gestured to one of the four open seats. The other three were meant for the operations director, the choreography director, and another director who's titled you could never remember.

As you took your seat, the other three directors all showed up together. You watched as the Basics members warmed up and then read over Soonyoung's 'Watch For' list. Soon the rehearsal began and the group launched into an impressive routine for an upbeat song. Once the title song was completed, they moved onto the B-side that would also be performed along side. A slower song but this one you enjoyed a lot.

Even as you listened to the lyrics, you felt a strong connection to the song and wondered why. It wasn't specific in any way, just talking about a feeling but also fighting it at the same time, yet you felt like you've heard this story before.

After the rehearsal, the other three directors gave their comments and critiques, quickly wrote down their notes, then took off with quick goodbyes.

You on the other hand, took a little longer as you were still not the most skilled at this evaluations thing. Plus Soonyoung always liked it when you added your own opinions.

"Can I ask a question?" You called out to the group and they instantly gave you their attention.

"Yes, go ahead." The leader, Mark, nodded.

"Who wrote your B-Side track?" You asked, unable to keep your curiosity at bay.

"Ah, it was a gift to us from the CEO. He said he wrote and composed it and wanted to gift it to us." Mark answered and you pause, processing the information.

You knew Soonyoung had dabbled in the lyrics area but you had no idea that he was also composing. Now the connection to the song was made clear. It was Soonyoung's story. The one you've been living.

"Speaking of Mr. Kwon." Gavin shyly spoke up.

"Yes?" You encouraged him to keep going while the members shared nervous glances.

"We know his birthday is coming up in a couple days." He continued, "And we wanted to surprise him with something small. He's been a great help to us and we want to thank him for the song. And we were wondering if you would help us." Gavin quickly finished with a shy smile.

You smiled, loving the idea that Soonyoung would get a surprise for his birthday. "What ideas do you have?" You asked and the members' eyes all widen.

They nervously laugh before Mark explained.

"We didn't think that you would actually say yes, so we didn't really think about anything." He admitted and you chuckled.

"That's alright." You told them, motioning them to come closer and moving to sit on the floor so you were all on the same level. It was something you learned from watching Soonyoung interact with the artists and trainees. Being on the same level made it more comfortable for them to speak freely and that was the main goal of company conversations.

Once they were seated, you began brainstorming ideas.

"So, we'll probably have to get him down here. Going up there makes too many possibilities for mistakes." You began and the members nodded their heads in agreement. "So how do we get him down here?"

"You could ask him to fill in for an evaluation? Say you don't feel good?" Tae asked.

You shook your head, "If I said I don't feel good, Mr. Kwon would drop everything and come care for me." You told them with an 'unfortunately' face.

"Well, what would make him come running quickly?" Chan wondered, deep in thought.

You took a few seconds before an idea popped into your head, "Soon-Mr. Kwon," You corrected yourself, "Would come running if one of you were hurt or not okay. You know how much he cares for you all."

They nodded.

"So how do we do it? Should one of us fake an injury?" Jino questioned, leaning forward in excitement.

"I think we should stay away from injuries but could you guys make it seem like you all had a fight and decided to ditch a member?" You inquired with them.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked.

"Mmm, and you can say no, but I was thinking we could say that four of you were disagreeing with one member and left the one member alone in the practice room." You explained while the members listened intently, soaking in the details. "I could say I was just checking up on the groups in the practice room when I saw the lone member and 'found out' what happened and call Mr. Kwon, explaining the situation. That would get him running down here quick."

"Where would the rest of us be?" Gavin asked.

"In another room waiting with a cake or something." You told them, "Then when Mr. Kwon is talking to the one member, I'll turn off the lights and you can come with the cake."

You watched the smiles grow on their faces and knew that was the plan.

"Who's gonna be the one member?" Chan asked, "They have to be really good at acting."

"Gavin's pretty good at it." Mark suggested.

"I guess I am." Gavin shrugged, content with the idea. "I'm down, I'll do it."

You nodded allowing them to continue their story planning.

"Wait, I feel like if it's just the five of us, it'll be kind of lame." Jino worried. "Could we invite the other groups and trainees? Have like a huge party?"

You licked your lips, wondering if the plan was getting too out of control.

"Some groups might not be able to make it. They have their own schedules and stuff." Mark offered, excited about inviting others.

"Well..." You trailed off and the members were sure you were going to say no. "We'll need to find a room with multiple entrances/off rooms so you don't all come out of one doorway." You finished with a smile and the members laughed giddily.

"Can you guys handle the cake and gathering trainees by yourselves?" It was now your turn to worry.

They nodded. "We kind of already started gathering the others." Mark said, scratching the back of his head.

"And we were thinking for the cake, cause there's gonna be so many of us, that each group would buy a large cake to share." Jino informed you and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at them.

"How many groups do you have confirmed already?" You questioned.

"... All of them." Jino answered looking away from your gaze.

You dropped your mouth open, "You guys." You can't help but chuckle, "Where are we going to find a big enough space to fit all of you? We're not a small company."

"We were thinking the gym, you know the one where Mr. Kwon hosts his big dancing sessions every year?" Tae said. "And it has a bunch of different entrances too. It could work, right?"

You thought back to the space and counted all the entrances and rooms where people could hide: a good 15. "Yeah that could work. Then we just won't turn off the lights. We'll have to figure out a different signal."

They all nodded then your phone began to ring with a call from none other than Mr. Kwon himself.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Where are you?" Soonyoung asked, a sense of urgency in his voice. "We have that dinner thing in like five minutes."

You whipped your head towards the clock and gasped when you saw the time. "Oh, crap. I'm on my way." You told him before hanging up the phone.

Soonyoung had wanted to ask you again where you were but you hung up before he got the chance.

Chuckling to himself, he leaned back in his chair clasping his hands behind his head, "(y/n), what were you up to?" He muttered to himself.

Quickly rising from your seat, you gathered your belongings and wished the Basics members goodbye.

"I'll come back tomorrow." You told them before rushing out the door to your next appointment that you foolishly forgot about.

Three days later, you stood in front of 5 idol groups and twice as many trainees and all their managers. A shiver ran down your spine in sheer nervousness of having to talk to THIS many people.

"So much for 'small' party." You thought to yourself.

You had told Soonyoung that you needed to check on a few new staffs in the practice rooms and that you would be a while. He didn't question it and let you go.

"And this was your idea?" Ms. Lee stepped next to you. You had recruited her to help with the mass of humans and she readily accepted.

"Partially, yeah." You smiled sheepishly at her.

Ms. Lee chuckled, "You and your big ideas." Then she clapped her hands, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Alright! You know the drill. Stay hidden until you hear the song play." Ms. Lee instructed.

Everyone in the room nodded.

"Get into your spots and I'll call Mr. Kwon once everyone is ready." You announced to them and they all immediately started shuffling to their assigned rooms.

The members of Basics make their way towards me with Gavin looking quite downcast.

"What's wrong, Gavin?" You asked, worried about him.

"He's fine, he's just getting in the mood." Tae smiled, reassuring you. Though you still felt a little unsure but that was wiped away when Gavin looked up at gave you a quick smile.

We were given thumbs up from each of the rooms and you called Soonyoung.

"What's up?" Soonyoung answered.

You took in a deep breath and did your best to sound extremely concerned. "Soonyoung. We have an issue."

"What's wrong?" Soonyoung asked, his tone dropping immediately.

"I was going around and four members of Basics stormed out of a practice room." You do your best to waver your voice, "When I went to check, Gavin was sitting alone."

"Did you ask him what happened?" Soonyoung questioned you.

"He said the group had been arguing and they just ditched him. He said they said they didn't want to be a group anymore." You breathe out, stressfully, "What do we do?"

The Basics members gave you thumbs ups before making their way into their assigned room with their assigned trainees. Ms. Lee patted your shoulder in support before following the Basics members.

"Where are you?" Soonyoung asked, rising from his chair and making his way to the door. "Is Gavin still with you?"

"He's with me." You informed him, "We're in the big gym."

"Don't leave. I'm coming." He said and you could hear the elevator ding. "Just don't let him leave." Soonyoung reminded you before hanging up.

You put away your phone and nodded to Gavin who took his spot on the floor, bent over his knees in sadness.

A few minutes later, the gym doors banged open and you walked over to Soonyoung as he entered.

"How is he?" Soonyoung asked, grabbing your upper arms.

"Not talking much, I can't get much out of him." You lied, looking sad, as per the plan.

Soonyoung squeezed your arms and kissed your cheek, "Okay, stay here, and I'll go talk to him."

You nodded and he made his way over to Gavin. Keeping your eyes on the pair, you inched your way over to the sound system which was conveniently placed near the doors. Unlocking the already hooked up iPad, you waited two more seconds before hitting the play button on some remixed version of 'Happy Birthday.'

As soon as the first note blasted through the speakers, everybody flooded out in a chorus of happy birthday. Even Gavin popped his head up, smiling wide and singing along.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, nearly had a heart attack when the music started. He placed a hand over his heart and fell back onto his bottom. His eyes darting to every person coming out of nearly every door.

You watched from your station with a smile, and a little worried cause Soonyoung got scared. But when he looked over at you with his eyes sparkling with delight, you knew he was just fine.

Some of the managers helped him onto his feet just as the leaders reached him. They each lit the single candle on their cake, you wouldn't let them put more on for safety reasons, and waited for the song to end and for Soonyoung to blow out the candles.

The song ended and you made your way over to him as he laughed with his whole chest. Then he blew out the candles, making the whole group cheer.

"Happy birthday." You said, side hugging Soonyoung as some trainees brought out tables to place the cakes on.

"And here I thought you weren't going to give me any presents." Soonyoung smiled at you.

You smirked, "This wasn't my present to you. You'll just to wait for that one." You whispered into his ear.

But before he could think about it, you clapped your hands.

"Let's eat some cake!" You started at the end cake and began cutting the large cake into pieces.

Ms. Lee began at the other end and the artists and trainees lined up to get their piece of cake. You glanced over at Soonyoung standing a few feet away, still in awe. Partly because of the surprise, but mainly because of what you had whispered to him.

"Mr. Kwon, a little help?" You called out to him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Coming." He replied and quickly got to work, plating the pieces of cake and handing them out.

Soonyoung handed the first piece out but the trainee shook their head and hands.

"You should have the first piece, Mr. Kwon. It's your birthday." They said but Soonyoung shook his head.

"I will eat when all of you have gotten a piece." He placed the plate in their hands, "Seeing you guys happy makes me happy." He told them and they graciously took the plate.

You and Soonyoung continued to cut and hand out cake pieces until everyone had a serving. Then as a little extra fun, you brought Soonyoung a piece for him.

"You really pulled this off for me?" Soonyoung wondered, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Oh, this wasn't completely my idea." You told him, "Basics came up with the original idea. Make sure to thank them later."

Soonyoung nodded and looked out happily at the artists and trainees interacting happily with each other and cake with their managers' watchful eye over them. You took this opportunity and planted the piece of cake on Soonyoung's cheek.

"OHHHH!" A few voices yelled having seen what you had done. The conversations in the room were replaced with laughter and stifled laughter as they realized what you had done.

"Oh, you've got a little something on your cheek." You stepped away from Soonyoung who had now been surprised from the second time that day. A smile played on your lips and he glanced up at you with challenge in his eyes.

Soonyoung cooly wiped the mess off of his face with a napkin. "Ms. (y/l/n), you better run." He said with a raised eyebrow and you took the signal to run away.

As you ran around the edge of the room, some artists attempted to hold Soonyoung back while others came to your rescue, creating a barrier between you two.

Laughing uncontrollably, Soonyoung attempted to escape from the bear hug he was currently receiving but to no avail. His own artists and trainees had turned against him for his own girlfriend and he couldn't believe it.

Your own laughter filled your ears and you rested your arms around the shoulders of the nearest trainees. The echoes of laughter bounced off every wall and created a melody of pure bliss. It was a moment you never wanted to end.

After a few minutes, Soonyoung raised his hands in surrender. The crowd around him dispersed and they all share wide smiles. Soonyoung looked up at you and he memorized every feature of your smiling face including the amount of joy that swam in your eyes. It was the moment he knew he could stop fearing being left alone. Cause now, he knew you were here to stay.

You also saw his face and knew you were in for good. You never wanted the life that filled his eyes or the glow he had when he was smiling that hard to ever leave. And you were going to make sure it stayed.

What neither of you knew was that the entire surprise had been recorded. Basics had somehow devised a plan to show the world that their CEO was the complete opposite of what they made him out to be. You figured out later that they had got it passed by labeling it as a behind the scenes of their new comeback.

So when the video came out, it shocked not only you and Soonyoung, but the whole world. Though they were kind enough to edit out the extremely couple-y things. You made sure to thank them for that.

After that, all it took was the other groups to share their stories with Soonyoung and a few anonymous staff members' testimonies and the public swayed away from Soonyoung's previous image.

Something that Soonyoung thought would take too much money and time to correct and that you thought would take many many months to do seemingly was done within a couple weeks. Either way, you were just happy that you were able to apart of it and Soonyoung was just happy to finally have you at his side comfortably.

"You're thinking about something." Soonyoung noticed your pursed lips and distant gaze one night as you two sat on the couch.

You broke out of your thoughts and shook your head. "No, no. Just zoning out."

Soonyoung now shook his head, "No you weren't. If you were truly zoning out, your lips wouldn't have been pursed. So you were thinking. What were you thinking about?" He pressed.

You took in a breath, having been caught, "Nothing important." You gave a small smile but Soonyoung just wasn't having it.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "Spit it out." He said and poked your side, making you jump slightly.

"Fine, fine." You stopped his hands before he could start a tickle attack, "I'm just still curious."

"Curious about what?" Soonyoung leaned back but you kept his hand in yours.

"The same question I've wondered about since day 1." You respond and watch as Soonyoung tried to recall the one question out of the thousands you ask on a daily basis.

He looked back at you with a blank look and you chuckled.

"Why you never corrected the articles." You reminded him.

"I thought I answered this one." Soonyoung looked confused recalling that fateful dinner.

"You did. But it was a half-assed answer." You told him, "Or it was, in my opinion."

"You really won't let this go until you know, will you?" Soonyoung asked, a nervous smile on his lips.

You shook your head proudly, "No. I think I deserve the real answer now."

Soonyoung sighed and nodded, "I guess you do. Since we've made it this far."

"So?" You leaned closer to him and he pulled you to lay on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat pick up speed, giving away his nervousness like a EDM beat drop.

"Why didn't I correct the articles." Soonyoung repeated the question. "Mmm, probably because that way no one would want to get close to me and then I wouldn't be broken and hurt when they left. All the relationships I had been in have ended with the other party agreeing with articles and using them against me in every divorce I had to settle." His said with a sullen tone.

You fought the urge to look up at his face and his arm tightened ever so slightly around you.

Soonyoung paused, debating whether or not it was a good idea to even answer your question. But your mere presence under his arm urged him to keep explaining.

"I never had to do anything and no one expected anything of me." He continued, "I could appear in front of cameras tired and the tabloids would just say it was my coldness and angriness. I never had to explain anything. It was better that way. Cause then I could focus on my artists and my trainees. And no one would question me. It was just easier to be misunderstood."

You felt his head turn downwards and you turned your head to see him looking down at you.

"But then you showed up." Soonyoung smiled sweetly at you, "You showed up and made me want to be understood. Even though every fiber in my body fought against it every single day, you still showed up every day and chipped away at me. Like a stubborn nagging thought that just won't go away."

You smiled up at him and giggled. "I can be stubborn, can't I?"

He nodded, "But I'm so much worse."

You shrugged.

Soonyoung glanced away and for a split second, doubt flashed across his eyes.

"I've actually been meaning to ask you." He cleared his throat, "Have you made your own conclusions?"

You sat up straighter, "I think I can say that I've made them. Yeah." You answered honestly.

Soonyoung dropped his arm from you and rested both hands in his lap. "And you're not going to leave are you?" He quietly asked, he himself still scared that he would hear the answer that would send his world crashing down.

Taking a breath, you calmed yourself down, reminding yourself that this was the area that you knew Soonyoung has always been anxious and worried about. People leaving. But you weren't about to do that.

"Soonyoung." You said, grabbing both of his hands, "Now that your public image is being changed, all those other women are going to feel so dumb and will be beating themselves up for not trying harder to understand you. But they won't ever get a second chance. Cause I'm not giving you up." You told him, enunciating every word so he fully understood.

Soonyoung's head lifted to meet yours and he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. The glass windows weren't shattering, the cabinets weren't exploding into shreds, and you were still sitting in front of him. Finally, he was still on top of the world.

He didn't have to say anything because the smile that grew on his face told you everything he wanted to say.

"I'm not leaving." You repeated, more determined to make it stick.

Without warning, Soonyoung rested both hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a hard kiss. The kind of kiss that said 'I love you,' 'thank you,' and 'you're mine' all at once. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him in tighter but he pushed back, laying you down on the couch.

Pulling away for air, Soonyoung rested his forehead on yours. Staring into his eyes, you couldn't see a single trace of doubt anywhere. Not even in the dark corners.

As he stared into yours, he saw a life, a future, with you, the one person who actually understood every part of him.

"Say it again." Soonyoung whispered, dropping down to hover his lips just above yours.

You smiled as his lips tickled yours, "I'm not leaving."

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #hoshi #hoshi imagine #soonyoung #soonyoung imagine #kwon soonyoung imainge #kwon soonyoung #seventeen hoshi #seventeen hoshi imagine #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen soonyoung imagine

43 notes · View notes

waywardnerd67 · 5 years

Text

Runaway: Epilogue - What You Need

Summary: A year after losing (Y/N) and killing Andrew, Sam and Dean are still dealing with the loss. While working a case in her hometown they get the surprise of their lives. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Andrew Clark (OMC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Angst Word Count: 2345 A/N #1: I’m sorry this has taken me so long to get out. You all know how real life gets in the way sometimes. I hope you enjoy the last chapter of Runaway. A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: Runaway Series Masterlist

One Year Later

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table scrolling news articles on his laptop. He had put Rory to bed a couple hours ago and now were the hours that haunted him the most. The hours where there was nothing to keep his mind off of the darkness and loneliness that was constantly trying to drown him. The only thing keeping him from going over the edge was the little golden hair girl sleeping upstairs in her room.

Over the last year, Dean had built up the closest thing to an apple pie life he could for himself and Rory. He bought a house that was a ten-minute drive from the Bunker in a highly recommended school district for Rory to attend. To anyone who met them he was a single father to a little ten-year-old girl. If Sam needed him to go out on a case, then Castiel would come over to stay with Rory. Dean had made it a point to never be gone more than a few days.

Everything he did revolved around her and he could not remember a time where he felt like everything he did had meaning or purpose to it like it did now. He had the best of both worlds except for one thing that was missing. (Y/N). The thought of her making his chest clench and heart ache. He finished the last of his whiskey as he turned off his laptop for the evening. Dean made a lap around the downstairs checking sigils, salt lines and locks before climbing the stairs to the second floor.

He peeked into Rory’s room to see her sleeping peacefully in her bed. Dean had to hold himself back from sitting in there to watch her sleep as that was the only way to make the night time bearable. Shutting her door, he made his way to his own room which simply had a bed and a dresser in it. Sitting on the bed, he ran his hands over his face. He hated falling asleep in bed alone the silence and emptiness a constant reminder of what was missing in his life. Laying back he pulled the blanket over his body, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes.

Dean would have the same dream every night. Raking leaves in the front yard as Rory waited excitedly to jump in them. (Y/N) walking out onto the porch her smile outshining the sun setting on the horizon. Her belly swollen as she waddled down the steps towards him. One hand resting on top of her stomach as Rory ran up to her hugging her as best as she could. Dean could feel his heart wanting to burst from his chest with how happy his girls made me.

It would be in that moment gazing at (Y/N) and Rory together that Dean would wake up back in his room completely alone and the darkness within him would spread a little more trying to consume every bit of happiness he had. Tears would slowly slip down his face as he lied awake for the rest of the night trying to compose himself enough in order to get up with Rory.

That is exactly what he did. He got up and started cooking breakfast for them. Rory was upstairs grabbing her school stuff when Sam walked in through the back door into the kitchen. He was holding a print out in his hand and his looked completely bewildered.

“Sammy, what’s going on?” he asked as his brother handed him what seemed to be an article. Dean looked down and felt like the air had been knocked out of him. “W-What the hell is this?”

Sam took a deep breath, “Apparently, she has been in a coma for a year and just woke up a few days ago. She has no memory of who she is or what happened to her. Dean…” Sam said pausing nervously.

“What?” he asked staring down at the picture that went along with the article.

“First thing she said was a name. Aurora.” Dean’s eyes snapped up to Sam’s just as he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Uncle Sammy!” she squealed running to him throwing her arms around his waist.

Sam leaned down hugging her tightly, “Hey sunshine, ready for school?” he asked as Dean tried to put on his best façade as to not tip her off at how much he was freaking out.

“I’m not going to school today.” She said looking up at him.

Dean chuckled, “Sweetheart why aren’t you going to school?” he asked kneeling in front of her.

She smiled sweetly at him and grabbed the article from his hand, “We need to go get mom. Chuck told me so last night in my dreams.”

Dean looked up to Sam who was just as stunned as he was, “Rory, do you mean Chuck as in God?” Sam asked.

Rory nodded, “Of course. He has been visiting me a lot in my dreams in order for me to be prepared to help mom come back to us. He said…” she paused looking to Dean, “he said she is what you need most.”

A small gasp escaped his lips as she let go of Sam and wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck hugging him. It was taking everything within him to keep his emotions down and when Rory let go of him he pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“Hello, this is Dean Winchester and I’m Rory Winchester’s father.” He paused for a moment as the secretary spoke, “I just wanted to let you know that we have had a family emergency come up and she will not be in school for the rest of the week. If there is anyway her teacher could gather some work for her, we will be there within the hour to grab it.”

Over the next two days Dean, Sam, Rory and Castiel traveled to Augusta, Maine. Dean had forgotten how much he loved traveling in Baby with his brother and friend. During the trip, he even let Castiel drive her, so he could get in the backseat with Rory to get a few hours of sleep. Rory had been amazing during the trip. She would sing along to Dean’s mixtape, work out her school work or lean up again Sam as he read to her from a lore book.

As Dean pulled into the town of Augusta, Rory lean over the front seat excitedly, “Awe it’s so cute here. Daddy, can we go to the little shops?” she asked as he chuckled.

“I’m sure we can, but let’s get settled into a room first then go see if it’s really (Y/N) at the hospital.” He said parking in front of a hotel. He looked back to see Rory giving him a disapproving look. “What’s with the look?”

Rory narrowed her little green eyes at him, “You don’t believe it’s mom. You don’t believe me.” She whispered as she sat back into her seat crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean sighed as Sam was chuckling getting out of the car. He got out taking a deep breath before opening Rory’s door and kneeling next to her as she swung her legs out. “I believe you, honey. I just don’t… I don’t want to get my hopes up for anything. Do you understand?”

Her expression softened as she nodded, and he helped her out of the car. Sam and Castiel had grabbed their bags getting two room for the four of them. As they walked stopped in front of the doors Rory grabbed a hold of Castiel’s hand asking, “Can I stay with Uncle Cas, please?”

Dean looked up to his friend who simply shrugged his shoulders, “I’m okay with it as long as you are.” He said as Dean nodded.

“Sure, I’ll keep our door unlocked in case you want to come over here.” He said handing Castiel her small duffel bag and her bookbag.

Dean sat down on his bed as a million thoughts ran through his head. He was startled when Sam waved a beer in front of his face. “Thanks.” He murmured as his brother said across from him.

“How should be approach (Y/N)?” he asked as the same question had sounded off in his own head.

Dean took a long drink from the bottle, “You and Cas go to see her in the morning. I want Cas to make sure it’s really her before I let Rory anywhere near her. I mean, if this is some plan to try and capture Rory then we need to stop it before we even involve her.”

Sam was nodding in agreement, “If it is (Y/N)?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know. I’m trying to not get my hopes up that it is. Nothing in this life has ever gone the way I want it too and I don’t expect that to start happening now. I mean, why in the hell would Chuck care about what I need? If he did, then mom would have never been killed and dad would still be here.” He answered setting his beer on the nightstand.

Sam took a drink of his before setting his next to Dean’s, “Maybe this is the way everything was meant to be, but (Y/N) dying was not supposed to be a part of his plan.”

Dean looked over to his brother with a skeptical glare, “Well, to be frank, Chuck’s plan sucks ass. I’m grateful to have Rory because that little girl has made everything worth it. I can’t imagine my life without her but… (Y/N)…” Dean could not form the sentence.

Sam placed his hand on his shoulder, “I know. Cas and I will go in the morning. For now, let’s try and get some sleep.”

He nodded as they both got ready for bed. Dean lied awake for hours with an unsettling feeling deep within him. He grabbed the extra key to Castiel’s room to go and do the one thing that always calmed his restlessness. As he walked into the room and stopped immediately seeing it was empty. Looking around, he did not see a note or anything and panic filled his body instantly.

Running back over to his room he flung the door open, “Sam get up!” he yelled startling Sam out of his deep slumber.

“Dean, what is it?” he asked groggily as Dean frantically put on his clothes.

“Cas and Rory are gone. I should have known, damn it!” he yelled as Sam was now getting his own clothes on.

“Do you think they went to see (Y/N)?” he asked following Dean out of the hotel room.

Dean nodded, “I should have known from the moment she asked to stay with Cas. She’s incredibly smart and knows she could get Cas to take her. Damn it!”

They got into the car and Dean sped over to the hospital mentioned in the new article. Being that it was the middle of the night, they easily slipped past the front desk and went in search of Rory and Castiel. When Dean spotted Castiel sitting outside one of the room his anger bubbled in his chest as his fist trembled by his side.

Castiel stood up holding his hands out, “Dean… wait. I know you’re angry…” he said as Dean grabbed the collar of his jacket.

“Angry does not begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. You can’t just take off with my daughter!” he yelled as Sam tried to pull him off the angel.

“Calm down Dean or we’re all going to get kicked out of here.” Sam said harshly looking around to make sure no one was actually around them.

Dean let go of Castiel stepping back from him, “What happened?” he asked keeping his eyes narrowed in on his friend.

“Rory, wanted to make sure that (Y/N) was really her before you saw her. She was trying to protect you because if it was not really (Y/N) then she could not watch you be disappointed.” Castiel’s explanation made his heart clench.

Since the day she had come into this world, Rory was doing what she always had told him she would. Protect him. Dean could not help the tears welling up in his eyes as he turned away from his friend wiping his eyes.

He chuckled, “You know I always forget that she is much stronger than any other ten-year-old girl. To me, she’s just my little girl who I must protect at all cost. However, she always ended up being the one who protects and saves me.” He turned back towards Castiel and Sam who was now standing beside him. “Is she… I mean…”

Castiel nodded opening the door. Dean gripped the front of his shirt just over his heart seeing (Y/N) lying there holding Rory. Their daughter was sleeping peacefully as (Y/N)’s hand was running over her golden hair. She looked up to him hearing the door opening and her (Y/C/E) eyes locked with his.

“Dean.” She said just barely above a whisper.

The sob burning in his chest escaped his lips as he made his way over to the side of her bed. He leaned his head down onto her chest letting out a year’s worth of emotions. He felt her fingers threading through his hair as her cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“She’s beautiful, Dean. You have done such an amazing job with her.” She whispered as he wrapped his arm around the both of them.

Lifting his head with tears streaming down his cheeks he pressed his lips against hers no longer being able to hold back. In that moment everything felt right in Dean’s world. Everything in his past that brought him to this moment made sense to him and his life was completely perfect. The how and the why of how (Y/N) was back would be explained later. Right now, all Dean wanted to do was enjoy the fleeting moment where he had everything he wanted.

The End.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @dean-winchesters-bacon @destielhoneybee @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @pisces-cutie @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @klanceiscannon14 @superromijn @witch-of-letters @screechingartisancashbailiff @myinconnelly1 @sister-winchesters99 @shamelesslydean

#waywardnerd67 #runaway series #epilogue #what you need #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #Supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #fluff #angst

60 notes · View notes

missingverse · 6 years

Text

Missing Chapter Nine

The people you found in true crime communities could almost all be neatly sorted into three categories. It was usually clear within the first few forum posts, first created thread or podcast comment, so that Arnold found himself filing them away as 'ignore' or 'engage' just by looking at their usernames.

The most pleasant to deal with were the ones that had a scholarly interest in true crime. They were clever, thorough, usually respectful. A lot of stay-at-home mothers or particularly bright college students, the occasional retired detective. Arnold suspected Officer Plaskett was going by the username OldDogNewTricks on three of the forums he was a member of.

The ghouls were mostly easy to spot, they typically weren't too bright. Lots of edgy teenagers that hero-worshiped serial killers and mass shooters, emotional vampires feeding off of grief, deranged romantics that blamed the deceased for having the audacity to die at the hands of the poor, misunderstood murderer. Some of them were very good at faking sincerity until their probing for messy details gave them away.

The last category was the one Arnold had put himself in after much deliberation. The people the deceased had left behind, family, friends, loved ones, former teachers and co-workers, people who saw that person all the time until one day they were gone. Full of bewildered hurt, good-natured, sometimes angry, mostly just incredibly sad. There was a sense that the postings they made online were an effort to preserve their loved one in people's memories, in that immortal way of the Black Dahlia or Jonbenet Ramsey or Amber Hagerman.

Arnold's first step into the community came with a thinkpiece. He'd been mindlessly surfing the internet, finished with household chores but too mentally drained to start his seventh grade assignments, and it was well past midnight so nobody was awake.

SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACKS: Does America's school system need to take more responsibility?

The picture at the head of the article was one that would become famous; the one with Helga and Phoebe building a snow fortress, Helga sporting the black eye that would set curious fingers typing all over the internet. The article itself was a mess, barely-there sources, typos and the author went off on an odd tangent about some teacher that had been mean to her back in grade school. But it brought Arnold to the comment section.

The school is definitely to blame, but let's not let CPS off the hook here. They had buckets of evidence even without the school reporting, but they left her there anyway.

Kids get bumps and bruises all the time, how is an underpaid, overworked public servant supposed to tell the difference? Where was this kid's doctor?

Ugh, just looking at that picture of Papa Pataki gives me chills.

He found himself scouring Reddit threads, which lead to blogs, which lead to podcasts and back again, in a circle. He was exhausted, but he kept going until the sun started creeping up the sky. He feigned illness to stay in bed, scrolling through post after post on his phone.

A lot of people had opinions on Helga's disappearance. Reading through them was compelling, they filled the vacuum she left behind her at least a little. And for Arnold, whose life was held taut between the boarding house and his schoolwork, it was something other than the everyday drudge to focus on.

…..

Arnold was buzzing with excitement (could it be called excitement? it was something, anyway) as they left the forest. He escorted Phoebe home, and left her with a promise that he would tell her what was on the memory stick once he saw it.

Only after, cycling back to the boarding house with her in the basket, did he realize that Helga had been oddly subdued. She'd been quiet in the woods, and hadn't entered her old hideout with them, and as they approached home she started rubbing her head, just under the wound.

“You okay?” he asked. Had something in the woods triggered something for her...?

“Yeah, I'm just really tired,” she mumbled back. “My head hurts.”

He had shown her the memory stick, but she hadn't shown any recognition or interest in it.

“Maybe we took you out too far today,” he mused. “I don't know, maybe the further you are from the house, the weaker you get, or something?”

“Maybe,” she agreed with a worn-out sigh.

He helped her out of the basket and brought her upstairs, and she was asleep before her head touched the pillow. He tucked her in and left her there to rest before joining his grandparents and the boarders for dinner. The chili was watery and the rice gritty (Gertie's cooking was going downhill rapidly, but no-one could convince her not to let someone else take over) but he swallowed it down fast.

The police never found the stick. She was going to give it to Officer Plaskett. It's evidence, important evidence. Crucial.

A tremor passed over Arnold as he slid the USB stick into the port, and his initial excitement paled in the face of dread. If it was evidence, it couldn't be pleasant. He glanced over at Helga, sleeping peacefully under the blankets. He was glad she was asleep.

The drive appeared on the screen, containing a folder. No name, just a sequence of random-looking letters and numbers. He opened the folder. It was full of pictures, thumbnails. He scrolled through them, leaning close to the computer screen, squinting. Was he missing something?

The first few images were of an empty room. Taken from some high-up corner. The room was mostly bare, just a single bed and a small rug and a few furnishings. Then he spotted the ragdoll, half-hiding under the bed. Helga's room. Without Helga in it.

And then, twenty or so images in, Helga appeared. It was unmistakably her, as this was unmistakably her room. But she was wrapped in a towel, another one wound around her head, as the series of images documented second by second. A sickness started to burn in Arnold's stomach, as the much-younger Helga on the screen took the towel down from her head and rubbed her hair dry. When she stood up and undid the towel wrapped around her body, Arnold hit the keyboard hard, flinching away.

That was an even bigger mistake. If the first pictures could be explained away as someone's paranoid surveillance, the set he accidentally scrolled down to couldn't be anything but what they appeared to be. He looked at them through his fingers, too sickened to look on them fully but too desperate to find something, anything, to explain away what he was seeing.

It was a mercy that Helga was asleep in these pictures. It was an unnatural sleep, clearly drug-induced, because nobody could have been propped up (displayed) the way she was without waking up. It was still her room, her pillow that her head was lolling against, her ragdoll that was lying beside her as a tawny male hand moved her bare limbs around. One hand fisted a handful of blonde hair, holding her up in a way that should have woken even the deepest sleeper, while the other presumably held the camera under her face.

There was her blackened eye. There were bruises in the shape of fingerprints on her legs, her torso, her barely-there chest.

Arnold managed to close the folder and yank the USB from the drive before he ran to the bathroom to be violently sick.

…..

MarkFisaTwat says:

What did you think of her dad? You get any creepy vibes from him?

TweenageDirtbag:

Not really...he was an asshole to her, but he was kind of an asshole in general. She definitely got the worst of it though.

MrsKirbyEdmonton:

I always thought he was more of an underprotective father than an overprotective one. Those don't really fit the profile for killers of that type. I'm still thinking suicide.

MarkFisaTwat says:

That's kind of blunt.

MrsKirbyEdmonton:

So, what, you think it's not a possibility?

MarkFisaTwat says:

Well, Dirtbag would know best....what do you think @TweenageDirtbag

TweenageDirtbag:

Honestly? I don't think she was the type. I mean, I know all kinds of people kill themselves but I can't see her taking that way out. I'd believe she would commit homicide before suicide, iykwim.

MrsKirbyEdmonton:

You never know, though, do you? Nobody really knows what went on in that house, except the people that lived there. There are things that make even the strongest of us want to die.

…..

Arnold shivered in the bathroom for over an hour before he could go back to his room. The images were burned into his brain.

She said she had stomach pains.

She was really tired in the mornings.

Stomach pain was a common side effect of certain sedatives, he knew that from managing his grandparents' meds.

She didn't want to go home.

Probably because when she slept in her own home she woke up with mysterious bruises and and stomach pains.

His phone chimed as he shakily slumped across his bed. He ignored it, and concentrated on the sound of Helga's breathing from across the room. It chimed again.

She found the pictures. She found them and was going to bring them to Officer Plaskett.

Back then, on that crime forum, he thought there was no way she could have killed herself and said so. Now, he wasn't so sure. If Arnold had found pictures like that of himself, he could say with certainty that he would want to die. Just seeing them made him desperate to find some way, any way, to block it out.

His phone chimed. Again.

And again.

He picked it up. Phoebe.

Did you look at the USB stick yet?

Officer Plaskett called my house while we were gone. We can see him at 2pm tomorrow.

Arnold? Hello?

You said you'd message me. I'm waiting.

If you make me wait til tomorrow about this I'll skin you alive.

He almost raised a smile. Phoebe had a fire under her again. Which just made it harder to tell her.

I looked inside it.

….and?

Phoebe, it's really bad. I can't talk about it right now.

How bad? She had it when she was alive...

I'm serious. I can't tell you. Not while she's here. I can't let her see this.

I'm coming over.

What?

No, don't, it's getting late.

I don't care. I want to see.

No, you don't. Trust me on this.

Fuck you, Arnold. This is solid evidence and you're not telling me what it is? Who the fuck do you think you are?

Phoebe, please. I wish I hadn't seen it. I'm giving it to Plaskett tomorrow. Let him tell you about it.

He stared at his phone, willing Phoebe to respond. If he had to open that folder again....

Fine. But if Plaskett won't tell me anything, you have to.

I will.

Helga made a soft noise in her sleep, turned a little under her blankets. Arnold glanced over at her. She looked peaceful.

Maybe this was why her ghost had no memory. Even after death, she had forcefully blocked it from her mind.

#hey arnold #hey arnold fanfiction #tw:crime

2 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 7 years

Text

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 15: Backlash

Today was the day. Regina smirked deviously, as she stared at that morning's edition of The Storybrooke Mirror. Instead of the announcement of two candidates for Sheriff on the front page, it instead displayed the scandalous past of one Emma Swan.

"Ex-Jailbird Birthed Babe Behind Bars," she read the headline. Henry's feelings had made her pause on giving Sidney the go ahead on this story for a mere moment. She knew he might pull away more from her after this, but he was doing that anyway. She was still his mother, which meant he would eventually understand all she was doing once she got rid of Emma Swan. And her idiot parents.

She couldn't believe this woman was the daughter of her most hated enemies, but she supposed it made sense. The Savior had brought unwelcome changes to her town in a very short time. And now, she had a lot of damage control to do. This was just the first step. With this story running this morning, it was likely Sidney would win the election for Sheriff by a landslide. Quite pleased with herself, Regina sauntered into her bathroom to get ready for the day. She couldn't wait to relish all the gossip this morning, as she made her rounds.

Wilby trotted back into the loft and made a beeline for the food and water Mary had set down for him, as she made breakfast. David tossed the rolled up newspaper on the counter and then put his arms around her from behind. She smiled, as he kissed her neck and she gazed lovingly at him.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, remembering how she had awoke screaming and sobbing in the middle of the night.

"I'm fine...I'm just sorry I woke you," she replied. He kissed her hair.

"Don't be. I was glad I was there to hold you and kiss away the nightmares," he said. She smiled.

"Me too," she replied, as she divided the eggs on three plates, just as Emma came stumbling down the stairs.

"Mornings are stupid," she muttered, as she took a big sip of the coffee that was waiting for her. Emma ate a piece of bacon, as she unrolled the newspaper. But what was on the front page made her see red.

"Emma?" Mary asked, as she noticed the blonde had gone rigid.

"I can't believe her…" Emma growled, as she tossed the paper on the table for them to see.

"Oh no…" Mary fretted, as she read the headline. David clenched his fist, as he saw it too, giving her a sympathetic gaze.

"I can't believe she would do this to Henry," Mary said.

"Oh I do...she doesn't care! Henry's feelings are just unfortunate collateral damage to her," Emma spat.

"We'll beat her at this. You're still the clear choice for Sheriff over someone as slimy as Sidney Glass," David insisted. She shook her head.

"David's right. We're going to campaign for you and show this town that you're the person they want protecting this town," Mary added.

"I appreciate your optimism, guys, but this isn't good. Regina was probably holding this for exactly a moment like this, just to discredit me and influence the voters," Emma said dejectedly, as she started toward the stairs to go back upstairs.

"Emma…" Mary called, as the blonde turned back to her.

"You can't give up," she pleaded.

"When you first came to town, you told me that I did the best thing I could have done for Henry when I gave him the book in a time when I thought I had truly made a huge mistake. I gave him that book to give him hope when I had none myself," she continued.

"And then you came along and I started to have hope too. Someone who inspires hope the way you do...people are going to vote for you. Even if it means defying Regina," Mary said passionately. David smiled at her and kissed her cheek, before looking to Emma.

"She's right. We're gonna make this happen, Em," he assured. Emma smirked.

"I'll admit...your optimism is contagious, so I guess if you want to plaster the town with my posters, more power to you," Emma said. Mary jumped up and hugged her tightly. Emma chuckled and then went upstairs to get ready for work.

Later that morning...

David ducked into the backroom of Gold's shop through the rear exit.

"Have you seen the paper this morning?" he asked, finding Jefferson already there.

"Oh yeah...I'm actually surprised it took her this long," Jefferson replied. David was distracted from his tirade though when he heard a commotion in the front of the shop.

"What's going on?" David asked.

"Emma's not the only one Regina has made waves for. It seems that Belle's father has suddenly awakened and remembered he has a daughter. He keeps insisting that her name is Lacey," Jefferson replied.

"But isn't that good? And why would she do that? Isn't it her joy to keep family apart here in this little Dystopia of hers?" he asked.

"Well...see the thing about Belle's father is that he wouldn't win any awards as father of the year so to speak," Jefferson explained.

"What do you mean?" the prince asked.

"Back in our land, her father was Sir Maurice. Not quite a King, but pretty close in her Kingdom. It was a bit further south from yours and Snow's Kingdoms. Anyway, ogres were rampaging their lands so to stop them, Sir Maurice promised his only daughter's hand to a General by the name of Gaston, who had an entire army at his disposal," Jefferson told.

"And let me guess, this Gaston was only interested in offering his army's assistance if he got something out of it, namely Belle," David surmised.

"You catch on quick," the hatter commented.

"Oh believe me, I know what it's like for some King to decide to offer you up to get something in return, whether it be gold or an army. I guess I just didn't know Belle and I had that in common," he said.

"Yeah...well, here in Storybrooke, Moe French is the one that committed his daughter to the looney bin. Or at least that's what his fake memories tell him, but to be honest, it is something he would do," Jefferson informed.

"What? What kind of father would do that?" he cried.

"The kind that has a very specific vision of who his daughter should be and I think you can guess, he's none too happy about her living with Mr. Gold," the hatter replied. David sighed.

"You know, for once I'd like to see an example of a good parent around here. My real father was a drunk. My brother's adopted father is evil. And Cora was pure evil to her core. Snow still had nightmares about that woman even after she was long gone," David said.

"Well, there is you. I think if you ask Emma, she'd say you're what a father should be. And Snow is what a mother should be," Jefferson replied. But the Prince shook his head.

"Except we couldn't be there for our daughter when she needed me most, like the time this article is describing. Snow and I couldn't be there, so she had to give her baby up and go to prison, because some little worm betrayed her," he growled.

"You and Snow were there...maybe not conventionally, but don't go comparing yourself to the likes of Moe French or Cora, and especially not King George. You're the type of father I aspire to be with Grace. I failed miserably, but I did try," he lamented.

"You didn't fail. You did your best when you had nothing. Don't compare yourself to them either," David replied.

"I guess…" Jefferson said.

"All we can do now is try to stop Regina from winning," David stated.

"Well, your daughter becoming Sheriff would be a huge blow. She needs to win that election," Jefferson said.

"Lacey...please…" Moe French pleaded.

"I'm sorry...I just don't remember you and my name is Belle. That is one thing I do remember," the brunette replied.

"That's what this...lecher wants you to think!" Moe hissed, glowering at Mr. Gold.

"Belle...this is the man that conspired with Regina to put you in the basement of that hospital," Mr. Gold replied.

"Is that true?" Belle asked.

"Lacey dear...the last thing I wanted to do was put you there, but I'm afraid you were quite disturbed. All because of him," Moe hissed.

"Wait...you put me there, because you didn't want me to be with Mr. Gold?" she asked.

"Lacey…" he protested.

"They convinced me you were dead, Belle. To keep us apart," Mr. Gold interrupted.

"Lacey...you have no idea what this man is really like! You must know that the entire town fears him! There is a reason for that!" Moe cried. Belle looked between them.

"Mr. Gold has been good to me. My friend David told me I could trust him and so far, he hasn't led me wrong," she replied.

"David? You mean the amnesiac coma patient?" Moe asked derisively.

"He's my friend and I don't like your tone. You may be my father, but you can't run my life!" Belle cried.

"Lacey please…" he pleaded.

"I want you to leave and stop calling me Lacey!" she demanded. Moe glared at Mr. Gold.

"This isn't over," he growled.

"Oh, I think it is, dearie. Get out of my shop," Mr. Gold growled back. Belle sighed, as he left.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Mr. Gold said.

"It's okay...I'm just not sure what to think or feel. I wish I could remember my life before I ended up in that cell," she lamented.

"Belle…" he started to say, but she held her hand up.

"It's okay. I think I just need some air and I promised Mary Margaret I'd join her class in planting a garden on the school campus today. I think that will be a nice distraction," Belle said, as she got her coat and headed out.

"Well, it seems like Lord Maurice hasn't changed much. He still treats his daughter like property," Jefferson commented, as he and David came in from the backroom.

"Regina is pulling out all the stops. First this trash in the newspaper about my daughter and now she's trying to drive a rift between you and Belle," David said.

"Which means you need to keep a very close eye on Mary Margaret, while I figure out how to make Regina pay," Gold growled.

"Hold on...as much as I want to see the Queen locked up in some tiny cell or properly charged for her crimes, I'd like to get her to that point legally," David said.

"With Albert Spencer, aka King George, as the district attorney? That's doubtful," Jefferson commented. David clenched his fists at the mention of George's name.

"I need to get to the shelter. Come on Wilby," he called, as the dog followed him out.

"So...what do you have in mind for the Queen?" Jefferson asked now that the prince was gone. It was true that David wanted Regina to pay as much as they did. But he was by far the noblest of the three of them. His conscience held him back in ways that it didn't for the Mad Hatter and the Dark One.

"Regina is playing with fire and she just may get burned," Rumple hissed.

"Now...once you've dug a nice well in the dirt, we can plant our flowers," Stephanie instructed, as she demonstrated her technique. Mary watched her students eagerly copy the other teacher and joined them, digging her own well with gardening gloves, which they all wore; a nice gift from Ms. Kore.

"Now it's time to place your flowers in the dirt. I've chosen my favorite flowers and those are snowdrops," Stephanie said, as she picked up a bunch of the white ones.

"Do we have to plant snowdrops?" one student asked. Stephanie smiled.

"No...you can pick any flower you like. But snowdrops are a unique flower, for despite their delicate appearance, they can survive even the harshest winters. So while the flowers we plant now will be okay for a while, it is the snowdrops that for sure will still remain in the spring once the Maine winter thaws," Stephanie said. Mary then watched, as most of her students picked snowdrops to plant, including Henry, who had initially picked them even without Ms. Kore's suggestion.

"Sorry I'm late!" Belle called, as she arrived and knelt down next to Mary Margaret.

"That's okay...there's still plenty to do," Mary replied, noticing her friend's troubled look.

"Is everything okay?" Mary asked. Belle nodded.

"Yeah...just a difficult morning. But I'm here hopefully to take my mind off it," Belle replied.

"Okay...but if you need to talk, I'm here," the raven haired beauty reassured. Belle smiled.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," the brunette replied. They spent the next couple hours in the garden and when they were done, they stood back to survey the beauty of their work.

"What the hell is this?" Regina demanded to know, as she arrived to pick Henry up. Mary jumped in surprise and tried not to wince under Regina's glower, but Ms. Kore stepped up to answer her question.

"You must be Mayor Mills," she stated. Regina turned to find a woman she didn't recognize.

"Just who the hell are you?" she asked.

"I'm Stephanie Kore, the new part-time high school botany teacher," Stephanie replied, enjoying the deer in the headlights expression on Regina's face.

"What?" she questioned.

"Yes...I just started a few days ago and since I'm only part time, I enlisted the help of Miss Blanchard's fifth graders to help plant a lovely garden on campus," Ms. Kore replied.

"Where the hell did you come from? We have no need for new teachers," Regina said.

"That's odd...I applied to the job posting online a few weeks ago and I'm from Boston. I assure you all my credentials are in order. I have a PHD in Botany from Boston College," Stephanie replied. Regina looked at her skeptically.

"Why would a professor of Botany come to a place like Storybrooke to teach high school part time?" Regina questioned.

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but city life became too busy for me. I decided I needed a change of pace and I've always loved the idea of a small town such as this. So far, I'm not disappointed. Miss Blanchard and her students have made me feel most welcome," Stephanie replied. Regina glared at her.

"I'm sure she has. Just know that I'll be discussing this with Principal Cook the first chance I get. Henry, let's go," she snapped.

"Bye Miss Blanchard! Bye Ms. Kore!" he called, as he reluctantly followed.

"Goodbye Henry!" they called together.

"Well...you weren't exaggerating about Mayor Mills," Stephanie commented.

"Yeah...I'm sorry about that," Mary replied with a wince.

"Don't be. Despite her attempt, Mayor Mills doesn't scare me in the least," she replied.

"I wish I was as brave as you," Mary said quietly.

"I think you're braver than you know," Stephanie replied. Mary shook her head.

"I wish I could believe that," she replied.

"Come on...let's the three of us head for the diner. The hot cocoa is on me," Stephanie suggested. Mary checked her watch.

"Okay...I have some time before David gets off. We're going to put up posters for Emma's campaign tonight," she mentioned.

"Oh that's right...I'd love to help with that if you need another hand," Stephanie said. Mary and Belle smiled.

"Of course, that would be great!" Mary agreed.

The Underworld

There was a shrieking roar that erupted in Hades' chamber, as his hair erupted in blue flames. He seethed with rage and the five rivers boiled in response to his anger. Persephone had been gone a few days, but that hadn't alarmed him, for it was still fall and the first snow had yet to fall. But a loyal informant clued him in on his treacherous wife's latest exploits.

"Yes...I thought that might piss you off," Hermes mentioned, as he gazed into the river of lost souls.

"She has betrayed me for the last time," Hades growled.

"Yes, but I'm afraid she's out of your reach now," Hermes reminded.

"Why did you inform me? You know it will anger Zeus and Demeter that you have sold out their precious Persephone," Hades inquired.

"Father was not happy about Persephone traveling to the forbidden Land Without Magic, I assure you. As for Demeter, I could care less what my Aunt wants," he replied. Hades smirked.

"Still sore about Persephone's rejection?" Hades goaded.

"She rejected you too. You just didn't take no for an answer," Hermes spat in return.

"She may be beyond my reach now...but I will find a way to make her pay for this and that precious family she went to," the God of the Underworld growled. Then he smirked evilly.

"And I think I know how," he said.

The Dreamscape

11 Years Ago

"Emma!" Snow called, as her daughter finally appeared in the dreamscape.

"Snow White," she greeted coolly.

"Prince Charming," she added with equal coldness. Snow's shoulders sunk in disappointment and Charming put his hands on her shoulders. For the past month or so, it had been like this with them. Emma had pulled away from them, even more so than she had when she was still in the system. During her earlier teen years, there was always a lot of attitude and yelling, but the warmth of their unconditional love had always won out and their little girl usually let go of her anger in the comfort of their arms.

But Emma had met someone and ever since then, there had been a change in her and not for the better.

Emma was stealing things and helping her boyfriend steal things. They were living in a car most of the time, which they had long ago learned from their daughter was a motorized carriage of sorts. It had been a source of deep anxiety for them as of late, especially when Emma declared to them that she wasn't looking for them anymore. A few nights before, she had told them bluntly that she didn't need them. She had gotten this far without them awake and she'd be just fine. They were cursed and that was suddenly not her problem anymore.

Charming instinctively knew she didn't mean it, as did Snow, but it still stung. They lamented together about how different things might have been without the curse. They felt like complete and utter failures as parents. They didn't really blame Emma for hating them.

But this new life...they knew the kind of consequences it would lead to and that's what frightened them most. It wasn't a path to a better life. They admitted to each other that they probably could have dealt with being cursed forever if Emma chose to leave them behind for a better life. But this was not a better life.

"How was your day, honey?" Snow asked. Emma smirked.

"Pretty good actually. Neal and I scored quite the haul from this uppity departmentstore," the blonde replied, enjoying the pained looks on her parent's faces.

"Emma…" David started to say.

"Save it, Your Highness, I've heard all the lectures. How I'm being a bad girl and how unbecoming my behavior is for a princess. Well, newsflash, I'm no Princess," she hissed.

"I'm an orphan who was dumped on the side of the road," she spat.

"Emma…" Snow squeaked.

"Oh I know, that's just where I came though. But it's still what it says in my file. It doesn't matter now though," she said.

"Why not?" David asked curiously.

"Because Neal and I are in love," she announced.

"Honey...that's wonderful. You're in love," Snow said, her face aglow.

"But since I'm seemingly cursed to come here every night, I just want you to know that I'm done with you two. I don't need you and you're never there anyway. I may have to come here in my dreams, but I want no part of either of you. So for the duration of my fucked up life, just leave me the hell alone," she said angrily, as she stalked out to the gardens.

"Oh Charming…" Snow cried, as she broke down in his arms.

"Shh...she doesn't mean it, my darling," he tried to soothe.

"How can you be so sure?" she sobbed.

"Because I have faith in her. She loves us and we will never stop loving her. She's just going through some really bad times," he assured.

"Then you think there's still hope?" she sniffed. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"There is always hope. Emma will break the curse," he assured.

Present Day

Emma was still ashamed of her behavior during that time. It wasn't long after those harsh, unloving words to her parents that Neal had set her up and she went to prison. She had been so incredibly nasty to them and yet when her world came crashing down, they had taken her in their arms with nothing but love and no judgment. It was like everything she had said was forgiven and forgotten to them. That wasn't something she was used to getting from anyone else but them. She was a mess during that time in her life and that's why today's conversation she would have to have was going to be so difficult.

Emma was ready and waiting with two hot cocoas at Henry's castle playground. She wasn't surprised at all that day that he had disobeyed Regina and ditched the bus, in favor of meeting her instead.

Truthfully, Emma was nervous about this conversation. She knew she'd eventually have to tell Henry how he came to be and about a very painful time in her life. But she wasn't expecting it to be so soon.

"Hey kid," Emma called, but she felt her heart nearly break, as he refused to look at her. But it wasn't for the reason she thought.

"Henry...I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner," Emma pleaded.

"It's not your fault. It's hers," he sniffed, as he finally looked at her and she saw the tear tracks.

"Oh hey...come here," she cooed, as she took him in her arms.

"I'm sorry...I don't know how she even got that information. My records were supposed to be sealed, but I should have told you," Emma soothed.

"Was I really born in jail?" he asked.

"Yes...in the prison infirmary ward. I still had two months left on my sentence when you were born," she replied.

"Why were you in jail?" he asked. She took a deep breath. Her first instinct was to lie. She didn't want her son to know what kind of guy his father was. But thanks to a talk with her dad on lunch, she was going to tell him the truth. Her father had reminded her that lying to him is what Regina would do and even if the truth wasn't pleasant, lying to him would result in him losing his trust in her if he found out.

"Well...I was in love with this guy and we were both down on our luck. His childhood sucked and mine, apart from my dreams, was pretty dismal most of the time. We decided to punish the world together and stole stuff to get by," she confessed.

"It was mostly small stuff. Convenience stores, thrift stores, things like that. What I didn't know was he stole some pricey watches in Phoenix before we met. Things were finally catching up to him in Portland," she explained.

"But then...how did you end up in jail?" he asked.

"He asked me to go get the watches in a locker at the train station where he had stashed them. It made sense for me to go since they weren't looking for me. We planned to sell them and escape across the border to Canada," she replied.

"But something went wrong?" he asked.

"Yeah...an anonymous tip was called in about the watches and I was arrested with them in my possession," she replied. Henry's eyes widened.

"He turned you in?" the boy asked. She nodded.

"I was arrested and sentenced to eleven months. He probably took off to Canada, but hey, he left me the bug. That totally made up for everything," she replied bitterly. He lowered his head.

"So you gave me up," he stated.

"I didn't want to...but kid, I was in jail. When I got out...I had no job or money. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I'm sorry," she apologized.

"It's okay...it's not your fault," he said. She smiled.

"You can be angry at me. It's okay...I messed up pretty bad," she replied.

"But you wouldn't have if not for the Queen. It's because of her that your parents had to give you up. She's ruined so many lives. We have to stop her," he said.

"Hey...you leave her to me. I know you're angry with her, but she still took care of you for ten years. For that, I have to be grateful to her. I don't think I can forgive her for what she's done to my parents, but she is still your Mom too," she reminded. He nodded reluctantly.

"But we will be a family, I can promise you that. We're going to break the curse. I don't know how yet, but if there is one thing I learned from my parents, even during my years of denying it, is that good always wins. True love, of which my parents probably share the truest of, can break any curse. And I was born of that true love," Emma told him. She knew that before that they would face much more adversity and there was no telling what Regina would throw at them. But the kid needed hope right now and it was her job to give to him, just like her parents had done for her all her life in the dreamscape...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Swan Believer #season 1 au #true love

3 notes · View notes

ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

Text

Fun fair with the Family - Batmom x Batfam (REPOST please READ the explanation right under the summary :-( )

Summary : Batmom decides to take her family to the fun fair…She quickly realizes it might not be her best idea ever.

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

Repost because, and this time I really don’t know how, the original post got erased...BUT I had it backed up for once. So here. FUCK. Hum. Sorry. But it had almost 100 notes, and comment people left I didn’t even had time to read because the story simply disappeared...I’m a bit bummed out right now...Is it too much to ask if you could like, reblog and comment again ? I kinda feel bad, it’s not my style to ask those things...I’m so sorry for that, but it’s a bit discouraging, to write something, and to see that apparently it was liked, but to not know who liked it, what were the comments etc etc, especially since this time, I didn’t do anything, the story simply disappeared...Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy, and re-enjoy if you already read it :’-( :

__________________________________________________

Not even an hour in, and you know you made a huge mistake bringing them here. All at the same time. They were going to be the death of you, so much energy…But it was just so rare that you all had some free times at once…You just wanted to spend some time with them.

It all started so well though.

*******************

You woke up in the best way possible : with your Bruce’s lips trailing kisses on your neck, shoulders and back, his arms wrapped around you. You shifted around, and before you could say anything, he kissed your temple, the corner of your mouth, slowly putting butterfly kisses on your face, to finally kiss you on the lips.

You melted in the kiss, and squeezed his large frame against you, your arms struggling to wrap around him. Damn that man was big. When he pulls away, you can’t help but grin at him, and he gives you the smile he only reserved to you. A real, pure smile. You nuzzle his neck, and he let out a contended sigh.

-You’re alright ?

-More than alright my love, as always when you’re here.

-My sweet Broosh. You know what I mean.

-I am alright. Not even a single bruise or scratch. The boys are too. Calm night.

-I like those.

-I like you.

-I love you.

-Oh yeah, that too. I love you (Y/N).

-Well, here’s for our morning’s cheesy ritual…We probably should get up.

-I have the entire day off.

-Oh ? Well then, what’s the hurry right ?

He smiles once more at you, and you crash your lips on his, climbing on him to straddle him. One of his hand tangles itself in your (H/L) (H/C) hair, the other goes to your waist and his grip is almost bruising. He cannot stop himself, you always had a strong and immediate effect on him…He rolls on top of you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

-What’s the hurry indeed.

********************

-Can I change bedroom ? Because I need sleep, and I realized that choosing the bedroom just down the hall from yours was a mistake. I think I understand now why the others have their bedroom at the other side of the Manor. You guys are so loud.

Bruce chokes on his coffee, and you turn all kind of shades of red. Give it to Damian to be brutally honest like that…His brothers hesitate between being disgusted (reminding themselves why they also switched bedrooms from the master bedroom’s floor to the opposite aisle of the house), and bursting out laughing, Alfred and his childish giggle convince them to howl in laughter.

You look at your husband, quite horrified, and he shifts awkwardly on his seat, the fork full of eggs he was going to eat still half way through between his plate and his mouth…He says :

-Yes, of course you can change room.

-Great, because really, my dear parents, you’re mak…

-OOOoooook, subject close.

-Yes Dams, subject close. You’re going to make it weird again.

-I never make it weird Grayson ! I think it’s gross too, they just have to know that they’re a nuisance when together, that we can hear them from the gard…

Bruce cuts his son off, putting his large hand on his mouth, and says :

-Let’s not talk about this anymore, instead, let’s talk about the fact that today, we’re all completely free and we should do something together !

You freeze at Bruce’s words. “All completely free” ? Could it be ? This hasn’t happened for almost seven months ! You definitely had to do something as a family ! Before one of your sons could say he had plan, you throw in the idea of going to Gotham’s fun fair, without really thinking about it (maybe if you had, things would have gone differently). You even convince Alfred to come with you, because come on, he’s definitely part of the family. When you say he’s “like the dad you never had”, you swore you saw tears welling up in his eyes, as he rushed to put the dirty breakfast dishes in the dishwasher…

Your sons are excited, Bruce seems ok with the plan (as long as he’s with you, his sons, or Alfred, he’s always OK), and you’re just too happy at the prospect of spending a day with your family !

*********************

As you all were wearing casual clothes, almost unfashionable for some of you (Bruce and his black sweatpants, baseball cap and oversized hoodie…oh, what were you saying, that man always looked good), no paparazzis bothered you. They just couldn’t even fathom the fact that the great Wayne family would go out in ripped jeans, flannels, sweat pants, and old shirt that seemed to be a thousand years old ! You guys were always classy !

It was so good, to not be recognize. You could all be yourselves without fearing a silly picture to be posted in every papers the next day !

Like right now, in the fun house, making faces at each others, laughing your asses off when one would fall on a “trap”, dancing as if no one was watching to the stupid circus song that kept playing over and over again. You all had some great move. You completely lost it when Alfred, finally loosing his English phlegm, did the “arms wave dance” with your boys.

You could hug and kiss your Bruce without fearing articles being written the next day, with the pictures, judging you guys’ relationship…Everything was just great ! Your sons though, kept rolling your eyes at you two, whispering, or plainly saying out loud : “Get a room”, “PDA !!!” and other “Ew, gross”.

Damian won a gigantic teddy Bear for you at some darts game, that was bigger than him, and you thought it was the most hilarious thing ever to see him carry it all around the fun fair. The boy refused the help of his brothers and father, so he deserved his struggle, and damn, it was just too cute. He had to twist his neck on the side to be able to see where he was going, because that damn bear was so large ! When you thanked him with a kiss on the forehead, he looked just so proud of himself that it melted your heart a little bit. That boy.

Jason, making all of you laugh, won some water guns at the “hook-a-duck” game, that was suppose to be for little kids. Of course, the rest of the warm summer day was spent spraying each other.

Tim got thrown out of the “magic house” as he made it a mission to debunk absolutely every single “creatures” in it, and explained every single trick, in details, the magicians were performing. The owner, a very fat, dirty and bald character, grabbed him by the collar, and Bruce almost knocked the man out, no one was touching his babies ! …Fortunately, you got a hold of him before he could do anything, and Tim handled himself. You could understand the owner though, because your son was being a total buzzkill, and every visitors were leaving his attraction…

Dick decided to “test his strength” by using one of those machines where you put a couple of quarters in, and a ball would come down for you to punch, and then a number would tell you how “strong” you were. All the boys did it, even Alfred…Dick punched the hardest, breaking the score that was the highest before he tried…Until Bruce tried too, and broke the machine because he punched too hard. He apologized to the owner of the machine, and gave him check for him to buy another one.

Everything was just great.

Until your sons’ energy was a bit too much. They wanted to do EVERYTHING. As soon as they finished an attraction, they were running to the next one, and you realized that you were not fit to follow them…But then a day that was starting to be too exhausting for you to really appreciate your family’s presence, too much at the same time, while it started so great..turned perfect.

Bruce gave you a piggy back ride through the fun fair, and things were good again. You could follow your children with ease, comfortably snuggled against his back, and you had easy access to his neck, jaw, temple and hair…All the places he liked to be kissed and caressed. Bonus point because your actions grossed out your sons a lot.

You were so glad you decided to go to the fun fair everything was so perfect…a few other accidents happened besides Bruce broking the punching machine, and Tim being thrown out of the magic house.

Damian punched a man disguised as a werewolf in the haunted house, because he jump scared him, and you guys all ran out of the place…until he realized he forgot his giant teddy bear inside, and went back in, just to punch the werewolf man once again because the fool was trying to grab him, while yelling “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE PLEASE”…You avoided the Haunted House area until the end of the day.

Jason ate too many candies, and threw up everything after he went on the tea cups attraction…You couldn’t help but telling him : “I told you son”, as, indeed, you warned him all day that he was going to get sick with all this sugar combined with fun fair stuffs. Even the carousel made him gag…

Dick almost got punched in the face for flirting with the girlfriend of some very jealous guy. Of course, he didn’t realized the girl had a boyfriend. He escaped with a laugh that infuriated the dude, and a few backflips that impressed the girl…and was able to slip his number in her pocket. Of course he would.

Tim got stuck in the “hamster wheel” of one of the fun house because Damian kept throwing his giant teddy bear at him…and both you and Bruce had to separate them before they would get in a violent fist fight. You made them hold hands the rest of the day as a punishment. Yours and your husband constant snickering towards them got the lesson through their head. Alright, no more fighting…in front of the parents.

And finally, the boys convinced Alfred to go with them in the biggest roller coaster on the fair, even though their favorite butler kept refusing their proposal as he said “rollercoasters made him sick”…He just couldn’t resist them. He considered them his grandchildren, he felt obligated to please them. And so here you all were, on a gigantic rollercoaster and…Damian, who was sitting next to Alfred, turned, and the panic on his face scared you.

-MOM, DAD, PENNYWORTH JUST FAINTED !!!! AL’ !! HE’S NOT OK !!

You all rushed around your loved butler to see if he was alright at the end of the ride, and with a weak voice, as he was waking up, he just said :

-I told you those made me sick…I don’t like heights too much…

And that marked the end of your day. It was getting quite late anyway, almost time for patrol. Dick and Jason supported Alfred back to the car, and Bruce went behind the wheel, forbidding his dear butler to drive, and once you all got home, he forced him to go take some rest.

Your boys felt extremely guilty that they almost broke their Al’…

********************

Before going to sleep, you checked on Alfred, bringing him some hot tea…that he never drunk as he was already in a deep slumber when you came in his room. You put the blanket back up to his neck, and with a kiss on your adoptive father’s forehead, you felt him, leaving a note telling him that if he needed anything he should just ring you, even though you knew he probably would never do it…

You went to bed late, but not late enough for your children and husband to be home, and you slipped into your king sized bed alone.

It was alright though, you knew your Bruce was going to warm the place next to you soon enough (you hoped it would be another “calm night”)…And the day you spent with him and all yours boys charged you up so much on family time that it was fine.

You made a mental note to take them to the fair again some day, but after a very exhausting night, so that their energy would be a bit lower.

********************

The sun was already rising in the sky when you felt Bruce’s side of the bed shifting, and his arms wrapping around you, squeezing you on his naked chest.

-Calm night ?

You asked hesitantly.

-Very calm. Bruise and scratch less.

You smiled, and turned around into his embrace so that you’d face him.

-Good. I like those.

-I like you.

-I love you.

-Yeah, that too. I love you (Y/N).

You stare at each other for a bit, each enjoying the presence of the love of your life, until a mischievous smile appears on your face :

-The night was calm enough to leave you with some energy ?

-You betcha sweetheart.

And on that note, he is on you, his lips crashed on yours, and his hand roaming your body. Damn you loved that man. And if you could hear his thoughts, what his heart said, you’d realize he loves you even more.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #Batmom #Batmom x batkids #Batmom x Bruce Wayne #Batman imagine #Batfamily #batfam imagine #Batfam oneshot #Batfamily x reader #Batmom x Batfamily

1K notes · View notes

all-sortsa-stuff · 7 years

Text

A new start, part 2

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2287

Warning: Language

Part 1

After finishing in wardrobe and meeting your new costar, the day went downhill. Your manager called to let you know you would have to make some kind of statement regarding the breakup. Obviously, your publicist had put enough pressure on him to have him call. He whined for a few minutes before you were tired of listening and agreed just to get him off the phone. “Ugh I hate this so much!” Stomping around the living room of the rental house, you thought about what you wanted to say.

You wanted to be cruel and hurt David as much as he hurt you. Make the whole world hate him and his new little toy. However, you knew it would in the end hurt you as well. You could not face that. So you called your publicist, who was more than ready to write some vicious statement about your parting. As much as it killed you to do it, you took the high road, and had her release a statement that was vague and placed no blame. You just wanted it to be over and to try to move on with your life.

That is what you were hoping at least. Briefly reading the statement on one of the entertainment websites only managed to create a hole in your heart again. Throwing your phone down on the couch you buried your face in one of the pillows and cried once more. This time though, you promised yourself it would be the last time. He did not deserve anymore of your tears or your heart.

You woke some time later, unsure of the time only that it was still dark outside. Stiffness and a headache from the long bout of crying and the awkward sleeping position, only made you hate whatever day it was. You did not feel rested at all. Pulling yourself up you found it was five thirty in the morning. So, not much before you were to get up for work this morning, anyway. It was going to be a long day.

Thankfully, after taking a long hot shower you made it to the set in plenty of time to be able to find your trailer and have a few minutes to sit in the quiet before the whole start of production. Your mind was oblivious to what else was going on around you as you got out of your SUV. Had you been paying attention you would have noticed Chris parking a few spaces down from you. He pulled out two large cups of coffee and called out to you as you walked towards the row of trailers.

“[Y/N]! Wait up! Damn you walk too fast.” He laughed as you turned in surprise to see him behind you, trying to catch up.

“Oh sorry! I was off in my own world.” You gave him a half smile. It was too early to be happy, at least today. Chris smiled holding out one of the cups of coffee towards you.

“I got this for you. I figured it’s early and we are both awake and that requires coffee. For me at least.” You had forgotten about coffee this morning. Your mind really had left you; you usually lived on coffee until you were awake. Taking the cup you held it in both hands enjoying the heat from the surface.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I forgot to make a cup this morning. Actually I do it’s been a bad week. I’ve forgotten a lot of things.” You took a sip of the coffee bracing for something awful but found it to be perfect. It was sweet and creamy just how you liked it. “This is great thank you. How did you know I liked it sweet?” Chris shrugged as he took a sip of his.

“I took a guess. If I was wrong I was going to give you this one.” He laughed quietly not wanting to tell you, he had looked up information on you the previous night. He may have found an old article on you where you said you loved sweet coffee. It was a hope that the coffee would help you to feel better. He could tell from the previous day you were feeling down.and he wanted to change that.

“Well I appreciate it.” The two of you walked together towards the trailers, chatting about the movie and the filming. Both Chris and you said your goodbyes for the moment as you found your trailer. One of the set assistants was already there setting out the portion of the script you would be going over today in the cast introduction meeting. You set your bag down on one of the chairs in front of the mirror and looked around. The interior looked comfortable; it would do just fine for the next few months.

The meeting went well and quickly. Many of the cast and crew had worked together on previous projects so it made for a pleasant morning. Filming was going to start that afternoon after lunch and the last minute details of costumes was ironed out. Two separate sets were built for the project showing the earlier lives and later married life of the couple. The first scene you were doing today had you looking like a teenager with a pretty ponytail and an early thirty’s dress. You could not help it; you took a selfie and sent it to your mom. It was a cute look and you liked the fact it made you feel a little better about the day. She liked the picture, sending back a string of emojis. The woman had just discovered the world of emojis on her phone and now was obsessed. You were going to have to stage an intervention at this rate.

The scene would be the two of you fighting over something insignificant, but to teenagers would feel like the most important thing in the world. You stood watching the crew set up a few minutes before Chris walked up beside you. “Well well Miss Connie, don’t you look a sight.” You grinned as he used your character’s name, seemed like he was wanted to slip into character already.

“Oh it’s nothing, Tommy. You’ve seen this dress a hundred times.” You pulled one of the script’s lines out for added affect. He beamed over at you holding out his arm for you to take.

“I think we should show this place who Tommy and Connie really are.” Nodding you took his arm. Together the two of you walked onto the set and did just that. The chemistry the two of you had on screen was incredible. It felt natural and flowed easily. Just like the two of you had been doing it for years. The director was ecstatic, commenting on how well it was going to portray to the audience. A wrap was called for the day, so the crew could start the prep for the early morning shoot. Chris walked with you as the two of you headed towards the trailers to change out of your costumes. Both of you excited how the day had gone. Chris looked up seeing a man next to your trailer door he stopped. He knew who it was and was not happy. “[Y/N]…” Pointing towards the man caught your attention. Your heart stopped then proceeded to drop solidly into your stomach. David. The man had come all the way from L.A. and somehow got on set. You should have known, he would come and try to ruin the rest of your day.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. Chris looked over at you concerned.

“Want me to get rid of him? You don’t need that shit.” Looking over to him you gave a half smile, and then shook your head.

“No, I will deal with it. I’m a big girl.” He nodded walking towards the direction of his trailer though he gave David a death glare as he moved. You walked towards David, trying to put on a face that showed the least amount of emotion as possible. He looked like a kicked puppy standing there with his hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

“Before you start yelling or saying anything please. Just hear me out. If you want to scream at me after that I will gladly take it.” Stopping a few feet away, you tried to maintain some distance. You did not want to be close to him for fear he would try to touch you.

“Fine, you have five minutes. Go inside, we aren’t doing this out here. I have already been humiliated enough.” David flinched as though he had been slapped. You told the set assistant that was waiting on you to go for the day. You would be fine to change and remove all the makeup by yourself. The woman looked more than happy to leave the tense atmosphere. He sat on one of the small padded sofa chairs while you took the seat in front of the mirror. Again several feet away. “Five minutes.” He nodded looking down at the floor before looking back to you.

“Yeah five minutes. Okay. Well first, I am going to say sorry. Sorry for the whole mess, which is completely my fault. I was weak and ruined the best thing going in my life. I made the decision to cheat and hurt you. It was a mistake that I am going have to live with and think about for the rest of my life. [Y/N], you are the world to me. It crushed me seeing you cry and walk out my door. I was physically sick when I realized what I had done and the extent of the pain I caused you. I am so sorry. You did not deserve any of it. You have been nothing but loving and supportive, even when I didn’t deserve it. Then that statement you released… you could have crushed me. As Lyla did when she told the world what we had done. It ruined so many things. My mother isn’t speaking to me right now. But you did not condemn me. You never could. I know there isn’t a mean bone in your body because you are a good person. Unlike me. Please understand how sorry I am. I am not asking for forgiveness, but I am asking for a second chance to prove that someday maybe I will be worthy of it.” David had tears in his eyes as he spoke. You know there was remorse in his words and it hurt your heart to see him like that.

“David… I know you are sorry. I know the person you are and I believe it.” He looked hopeful as he sat up in the chair. You put your hand up to stop him further. “But I can’t do a second chance. I will never be able to get the sight of her wearing only your shirt wrapped around you as if she was supposed to be there. Or the sight of your kissing her neck like you did to mine. It makes me sick thinking about it actually.” His head went down into his hands, blocking his face. “We are done. What we had is damaged beyond repair. It is over and I need to move on with my life. Figure out what that is without you in it. Please do the same.” You stood up moving to open the door, his sign that he needed to leave now.

David stood wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. Someday I am going to prove that we belong together. But I will do what you want for now. Good luck with the movie.” He walked out and you shut the door. Tears were threatening to fall, but after the previous night, you promised yourself you were done crying over that man. You deserved a new start.

You cleaned yourself up, wiping away all the makeup and changed your clothes. Making at least an attempt as looking like you. Not the movie star you, but the you that appeared every morning in the mirror. As you stepped out of the trailer, Chris walked up looking around. “Is he gone? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“No he’s gone. He shouldn’t be back. It’s over.” Chris nodded unsure how to respond to it. His hands in his pockets as he looked at the ground.

“Well I know it’s been a long day and you look exhausted but you also look like you could use a beer.” You raised a brow at him. “No, no not like a ‘date’ kinda beer. I mean like a ‘you’re stressed out because your ex-boyfriend is a douche and you need a pizza and a beer’ kinda night.” The words just fell out of his mouth is a mess. Laughing you covered your mouth. He looked nervous but you liked the idea.

“That sounds good. “

“Great. There is this place…” Shaking your head at him.

“No, not going out. I have beer in the fridge at the house. We can order pizza and drink there. I can’t take a crowd or people looking at me tonight.” Chris nodded and looked around trying to play it cool.

“Great, yeah if you want to do that. I’m good with it. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to hit on your or anything weird. Just trying to be a friend. You look like you need one.” You smiled squeezing his forearm in thanks.

“Yeah I think I do. Thank you. Come on, I’m starving.” He followed you to the car and the two of you headed off towards the beach house.

Part 3

@bolontiku

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fandom #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #christopher evans #christopher evans x reader #reader x chris evans #chris evans fanfic

121 notes · View notes

militant-holy-knight · 5 years

Text

Using Tragedy For Political Gain For the Nth Time.

I am torn as to whether or not I should have written a personal take on this so soon. When I woke up in Friday morning to see the news about the Christchurch terrorist attack I was alarmed. Yes, I saw the footage and yes, I read his manifesto - it was nothing short of absolutely grotesque and degenerate. Plain and simple. Make no mistake, this was an racist attack whose perpetrator is indeed a terrorist. In fact, I won’t even dignify him by referring to his name - he will simply be called henceforth the NZ terrorist. On Tumblr I shared a few articles and reblogged a few posts calling for moderation. But as I see the events further develop I can’t help but address this situation which I believe will make things worse unless if we talk about them anyway.

We don’t often get the luxury of having a mass murderer explain himself such as the Las Vegas shooter (whose motivations are still a mystery to this day and will never be explained). And while the NZ wrote an extensive manifesto and made it clear what his positions are. I’ve struggled (and I still do) on whether or not saying his manifesto should be read by people so that people can draw their own conclusions, but I’ve questioned how much he is a point he would have when the doc is filled with so much misdirection, shitposting and trolling. I’ve questioned if he really is world-traveled as he claims he is since his manifesto drips with the words of someone who never left his parents’ home and decided to go on a shooting because of death... Until I saw there is evidence he visited at least Pakistan, with video and passport to confirm it.

As far as we know, his manifesto was made to misdirect with only one thing for certain that we can assess: he wants to further cause division between the left and right and escalate the culture war. Unfortunately, many individuals have either mindlessly fallen into his trap and started heaping the blame on the wrong kind of individuals for allegedly “radicalizing” this criminal or even more insidiously, forming some sort of unholy ideological alliance with the terrorist because he knows his crimes will play into a certain course of action that he hopes they will take and they are grateful that someone did actually did it so he could use the tragedy as an convenient excuse.

A good example that comes to mind is the dictator of Turkey, Reccep Tayip Erdogan, (who is name dropped in the manifesto and who the terrorist calls for his death) blamed the attack on the “rise of Islamophobia” and went on to say the Hagia Sophia will never be a church again so long as there are Turkish people. Very typical behavior from him and to say so no surprise, but this time he is surely alarmed because the terrorist dared to paint a target on him. He is in pure hostility mode because that is how he operates. He is overly emotional, engages in divide and conquer tactics like the terrorist and makes no bones about how much he hates not just his political rivals, but also his allies too. He earns to revive the Ottoman caliphate so that he can take over the West and the Arab world. He is an absolute PR nightmare for anyone who wants to show an example of a liberal Muslim government, which Turkey used to be held up as the example the MENA countries should follow, but now is hardly any better. The only time I remembered he tried to present himself as a paragon compared - which is hard to do when you are jailing journalists and critics - except during the Jamal Khashoggi affair. For one, trying to pretend like you are a better human rights example than Saudi Arabia really isn’t that hard to achieve since they are just Islamic North Korea. For another, people have rightfully pointed out that he is full of shit and he was merely using that for personal agenda.

But Erdogan is a dictator so of course he wants his critics silenced and his opinions don’t earn any serious merit in the discussion. What really is concerning is the kind of discourse we will see in the Western world. Journalists have either consciously or not laid the blame at the feet of Donald Trump, Candace Owens, Pewdiepie, Christians, Jews, memelords, guns and others for supposedly radicalizing this individual. It’s ironic he said denounces Trump and conservatism in his manifesto, but since the public will be discouraged from reading it out of fear of radicalizing themselves, it creates an convenient opportunity they can paint a monster that must be put down.

This is dangerous not only because it validates the far-right’s concerns but also helps no one but further alienate those outside of the fight politically. Lets consider who will be marginalized if the far-left engages in a literal crusade to defend Islam by any means necessary. The first ones to get silenced would be the online memelords that post harmless memes simply because the terrorist used a lot of memes like the Remove Kebab song in his massacre footage, which has been deleted from Youtube as we speak.

Then there are historians like Iniciativa Condor, Real Crusades History and myself that are personally fascinated by the Crusades, the Reconquista and the Great Turkish War. Because the terrorist now used several references like the Battle of Tours, the Battle of Vienna, Skanderbeg, the Russo-Turkish War and many others (though ironically not Vlad the Impaler), I imagined we will be ostracized when discussing such subjects in the open out of fear of another Christchurch. In fact, I’ve been warned by personal relatives that I shouldn’t be vocal about it anymore.

And then on a more serious scale... There are critics of Islam as a religion, specially of Muslim background. Regardless if atheistic or religious, these people were already under enough scrutiny in their home countries who do everything to suppress criticism of Islam even secular societies like Indonesia and Turkey, the former in particular exploits its law Article 301 about “insulting Turkishness” which is misused to arrest dissidents. There is a former Muslim Youtuber I am subscribed, the Apostate Prophet who while deeply denouncing the attack, received messages asking if he was happy about Muslims being killed. What kind of fucked up perspective is this where criticism of Islam is equated with sanctioning the death of Muslims?

youtube

Now on the worst case of all. Consider that there is an actual epidemic of rape that liberals have turned an blind eye on Europe because it means tackling a very uncomfortable topic which goes contrary to what works in their agenda.

If what happens on Europe is bad, then its infinitely worse what is happening around the world, specially in the Middle-East where Christians are facing an actual genocide by jihadists and fundamentalists which has been going on for years now, but we have only started paying attention now that the Middle-East began to spill into the West. Furthermore, this attack will certainly result in retaliation since they have found less excuse for. Remember the Regensburg lecture by Pope Benedict when he quoted the Byzantine Emperor Manuel Palailogos for criticizing Muhammed and the entire Islamic world went apeshit with Iraq in particular killing Assyrians in retaliation as if they had anything to do with it. Just because of an controversial statement by the Pope.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not leaving the alt-righters celebrating this atrocity in their echo chambers off the hook either. I’ve seen how static /pol/ users were at seeing the footage of him shooting up innocents, advocating for more terrorist attacks to be called out, trolling users who said innocents shouldn’t be targeted or those accusing the terrorist of being a Mossad agent or a Shia Muslim. Its somewhat surprising you see: /pol/ hates Muslims too they think Jewish people are much, much worse (something which the shooter didn’t do). Hell I heard the Saudi Royal Family is in fact Jewish behind close doors. Consider these are the kind of people who are also in love with Bashar al Assad who portrays himself as the secular side of the Syrian Civil War that protects minorities when in fact this is also a ruse.

Similarly, for all their bitching about Western civilization falling, they are unsympathetic to the plight of Christians around the world because they are non-white and follow a “Semitic religion”. Not a single word about Asia Bibi being on death row, the persecution of Copts in Egypt or explosion of churches in They have trivialized the word of genocide by comparing low birth-rates with actual fucking persecution, exiling, destruction of heritage that minorities suffer in the Middle-East. Also speaking as a Brazilian even one fascinated with Western heritage, they’d still advocate my death because I am non-white (I hate using the term “POC” because its patronizing) and they’d want us to stay in their shitty lane.

Its frustrating enough that the far-left has a monopoly on social media and journalism (this isn’t up for debate, the purge of NPC memes is evidence of that) and the internet is basically owned by them. Now imagine if they push down even harder? Or Erdogan’s comments will end up pushing someone to actually try to assassinate him (unlikely considering Kurds haven’t been pushed hard enough to consider assassinating him despite all the things they have done to their people, a foreigner will likely have even less motivation for doing so), but I don’t think that man will go down peacefully as he expects. The whole point of this massacre was to literally divide the world into left-wing and right-wing, with the shooter expecting that whites begin genociding foreigners regardless of religion (he simply chose a mosque because it was too obvious, he denounces Latinos and Indians who are majority Catholic and Hindu respectively). I’d argue that in addition to being a national socialist and a fascist, I think he is an anarchist too - because for a guy committed to such a cause, he did a lot of harm to it by killing children and filming it. Nobody sane will advocate for this, only the tiny, tiny minority in /pol/ that agree with his actions, and even they don’t have a back bone to follow his footsteps.

Everything the terrorist wanted he is getting because of the emotionally driven responses that people are making as such I call for moderation, quit the dick measuring game that you call a culture war and try to find a common ground before anything else.

#rants #terrorism

0 notes

sals-art · 7 years

Text

This life we’re living (Mob AU oneshot)

Okay so I got inspired again and ended up writing about Mob AU Reggie, Radian and Laine.. again. This one has 2,167 words, which I guess makes this a bit longer than my other writings I’ve posted here? Anyway, this one is back in the good old times when the trio actually lived happily together. I have no idea where this came from, there’s no base in any RPs or anything, it’s all just me and my thoughts. I hope you enjoy and forgive my grammar mistakes, I wrote this at one sitting and decided to post at 10:30pm after a long day.

OH! And this is definitely inspired by this unbelievably amazing picture made by the even more amazing @marmaladejones13~

They always had a movie night before a big gig. The idea behind it was that if they stayed up for long, they would sleep longer and be more awake when they went out to do whatever they were going to get paid for. Did it actually work? Not really. Staying up late and passing out on the couch usually just made the three assassins a bit more cranky than they normally were when they woke up. Yet not even Radian had suggested that they'd drop the habit. After all, waking up later wasn't the only reason the three friends wanted spend together their last calm night before a possibly hectic one. In the hitman business you never knew which gig would be your last.

Of course, Laine and Reggie had turned the night into a competition. The two used every possibility to challenge each other, to try to prove their ultimate superiority: which one of them would be able to run faster, shoot more accurately, lift more weight, chuck down more beer before passing out.. Much to their neat freak roommate's displeasure, their challenges often ended up in some kind of mess and the only things the two didn't challenge each other to do were chores. Radian tolerated these competitions, though, since at least some of the punishments for loosing were actually useful: do the dishes, clean the bathroom, vacuum the living room, drive the getaway car.. Come to think of it, the competitions between the hitman and the hitwoman were the most effective way to make the two do the things they didn't want to do.

The three were often too lazy to rent a movie, so their movie night usually consisted of either one of the movies they already owned or a watchable movie airing from the late night TV, if they were desperate for some change. After the movie ended started the channel surfing that usually stilled on some police series or a crime documentary. It was surprisingly fun to question the logic behind some fictional criminal's actions and talk about what a real criminal caught by the law should've done differently. The more tired the three skeletons got, the more they laughed at the inaccurate screenwriting and the foolish mistakes made by unprofessional felons.

Since Radian didn't want to take part in Reggie and Laine's childish competition, he was almost always the first one to pass out. His roommates didn't really mind it: they knew that Radian's inner clock (that was probably more accurate than any Swiss clock ever built) would wake him up at the same time in the morning, no matter how late he stayed awake the previous night. While the tall assassin snoozed away, the two friends continued to talk with low voices, commenting on the show they were watching and talking about whatever came to their mind. This was kind of a sabotage towards their own victory since it is harder for your opponent to fall asleep if you keep talking to them. But again, Reggie and Laine didn't mind it. Even with all their rivalry and never-ending teasing and bad-mouthing, the two were close friends: being able to spend time together and just talk in peace was even better than a victory.

Once again, it was time for another movie night, and once again, it followed the usual pattern: after their movie of choice and a couple of episodes of an old detective show Radian was already leaning against the arm rest in a position that was probably going to make his neck hurt in the morning. His arm was lazily around Reggie, who laid in his boyfriend's lap with Radian's jacket thrown over him as an improvised blanket. On the other side of the couch was Laine, who leaned against the free arm rest and hugged a pillow, her legs intertwined with Reggie's for both physical comfort and an easy access for kicking the other if he started to talk back in a disapproved way. Behind them was the Wall of Fame, a note board full of articles they had found about their work. Of course, their names could not be found from any of the articles: just news about a found body, nameless murderers and unsolvable cases. Eventually, Radian would move the older articles to a scrap book, organized by both date and the assassin in question, making room for new kills and unsolvable mysteries.

The last episode of the night ended and the TV screen turned from slowly rolling credits to a silent white static. Laine blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the sudden change of lighting and then carefully lifted her head to look at the two men laying on the other side of the couch. Radian was clearly asleep: his head was leaning back, his mouth was slightly open and his breathing was deep and calm. However, Reggie with his black shades (that he wouldn't take off even in the dark) was a harder subject to read. Laine swallowed and then whispered silently: ”Reggie?” Nothing happened for a second or two, but then the hitman in question moved his head lazily from his lover's chest. ”What?”

”Nothing, I just checked if you are still awake.”

”You know, I think I was almost asleep, but you dragged me back with that whisper.”

”Goddamnit.”

Reggie chuckled at Laine's silent curse and then froze as Radian's breathing stopped. Both of the skeletons still awake stayed silent and listened carefully, not relaxing until the tall man's breathing continued, as deep and calm as before. All of the three had been trained to wake up to the smallest of changes in their environment, that being even as insignificant as a silent sound or an unexplainable breeze. However, Radian seemed to have got a bit numb to this, at least when it came to their movie nights. The most believable explanation the two other skeletons had come up with was that Radian felt safe with his boyfriend in his arms and familiar, calm sounds around him. Really showed how much he trusted those two, his closest equivalent for a family.

Both Laine and Reggie returned to their original positions and for a moment the only sounds they could hear were Radian's breathing, the TV's static and the sound of late night traffic somewhere below their small apartment. They couldn't hear any gunshots or emergency vehicles rushing for some poor soul's rescue or demise. It seemed to be a quiet night. Then again, when the best ones were working you didn't know it until the morning sun revealed the damage.

Suddenly, Laine broke the silence again.

”Do you ever think what you'd be doing with your life if you didn't have to do this?”

It was a forbidden question. 'What would be if things were different?' It was a question that made you think, gave you new thoughts, new hopes, new dreams. Made you wish for things that could not be. It was distracting, and in a world they were living, distraction could mean a failure or – worst case scenario – death. There was no way to leave this life: no matter what they did, they would always have someone after them, reminding them of what they had done and trying to get their head for it. It was stupid to even think about anything else. It was dangerous to think about anything else, and it was unfair to try and make someone else to think about anything else.

Reggie didn't answer, and after a moment of silence Laine spoke again: ”I think I would be an artist.”

”An artist?”

”Yea. Maybe a painter. You know, I'd just.. collect inspiration and take a paintbrush and paint all day and become rich with my artwork.”

Reggie snickered at that statement and received an annoyed look from Laine. ”Oh shut up. There's some big money flowing in the art business, you know.”

”Yea, I know.” Reggie replied and smiled. ”But only if you are a famous artist.”

”No-one's born famous, Reg. What, you saying that I couldn't become famous?”

”Well..~”

Laine gasped and gave Reggie a sharp kick to his thigh. ”You're such an asshole!”

Reggie laughed at Laine's offended outburst, but couldn't help but grimace at the pain in his leg. Laine could definitely power up her kicks if she so wanted.

The two skeletons fell silent again as the third of their party moved a bit, but instead of waking up he just wrapped his arm tighter around Reggie. Laine leaned back down, and the room was silent for a moment.

”Or a singer. I think I could be a good singer.” Laine said and closed her eyes. ”Maybe I could be the lead of a famous band. Just.. My name on the paper, advertising a concert that's already sold out. Half of the city's there, all the big guys in the front.” Laine moved her leg and rubbed it against Reggie's to keep the man awake. ”And we play and sing for hours and between every song the whole crowd applauds and cheers. And after the finale they all stand up, people are clapping and cheering, the sound is deafening. And on the front seat there's the chief of police who – instead of trying to catch my ass all the time – throws me a bouquet of flowers while wiping away tears. And.. and afterwards I go to my big, expensive apartment, where my beautiful girlfriend is waiting for me and has already got out the champagne-”

Reggie cut in before Laine could continue and added with a playful tone:”And soon you'll have your own house at the suburbs, a dog, a cat, two and a half kids..”

”Hey, I'll take the dog and the cat, but keep babybones out of my fantasy!”

Both skeletons snickered silently at the last part, and after a few seconds of silence Reggie commented: ”But hey, if that happened you wouldn't be living with two of the most handsome skeletons in this city~”

”Pfff! More like the two biggest pains in my back.” Laine replied and smiled her usual bitchy smile. ”One nags to me about leaving a spoon in the sink and the other leaves his dirty clothes on the kitchen table. I swear to God, if I had enough money to live on my own I would be out of here so fast..”

Another silent laughing fit that slowly died out. The breathing of the sleeping skeleton, the white noise from the TV and the silent night life going on in the never-sleeping-but-often-snoozing city formed a solid background noise that in just a few seconds started to lure both Laine and Reggie towards sleep.

”Hey.. Reg?” Laine's voice had turned to a whisper that was just barely audible.

”Still awake.”

”... Do you think.. Do you think I could've pulled it off? That artist thing?”

And there it was. Laine didn't even try to hide the tone in her question. It had that sad curiosity, that careful hope that maybe there could be something different. Maybe they wouldn't have to stay on their toes waiting for someone to find them and get their revenge. Maybe they could walk out their apartment without having to hide a gun under their jacket. Maybe, just maybe, they could just leave, walk out and start their new life without having to worry about anything.. Maybe there could be something else than prison bars or a bullet in their skull waiting in the future.

It was a foolish hope. A childish dream. It was useless – dangerous, even – to think about what could be if they hadn't been born with a gun in their hands.

And yet, after a moment of tense silence, Reggie whispered: ”Yea.”

Laine lifted her head and looked at Reggie, meeting a smile that was a bit softer than usual. ”Yea?”

”Yea. I think you could've been great. A gallery or a stage, I think you could've rocked the world.”

Laine smiled a tired smile, lowered her head back against the arm rest and closed her eyes. There was a lot of pride – with a hint of sadness – in her voice when she muttered: ”Yea.. I could've rocked the world.”

A silence fell in the living room once again, and after a couple of minutes Laine's calm breathing became a part of the background noise. Apparently it was Laine who was going to share the backseat with a couple of dead bodies on their next gig. Reggie should've been happy about his victory, but there was no emotion on his face. The hitman leaned his head back against Radian's chest and stared at the TV screen full of static, with no intention to turn it off. It took at least another half an hour before Reggie, too, fell asleep, with his boyfriend's arm around him and his best friend's legs pressed against his.

Laine never got an answer to her original question.

#skeleverse #skeleverse mob au #skeleverse radian #skeleverse laine #reggie the hangman #sal's art #sal's text

10 notes · View notes

theastonishingkylejackson · 6 years

Text

“I was out late that night. Much too late. The bartender kept the Kili’s coming while I marveled at the universe putting me in that bar on that night accepting a stranger’s invitation to join their table.” – Written By Jodi Arndt Contributing Columnist for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine

To read more of Jodi Arndt’s work, visit her website by clicking HERE.

“You’re a teacher, correct? It’s must be the glasses. You look like a teacher,” he nods his head in the waiter’s direction as a round of shots are placed on the table.

The Astonishing Jodi Arndt, Contributor for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine

My face must communicate confusion at the round of drinks that is quickly placed down because his friend confirms, “Chilled vodka, dear.”

“Maisha marif!”

“Cheers.”

“To a long and prosperous life!”

Four glasses clank and I take a slow swig of the vodka.

“Forgive me. We failed to properly introduce ourselves,” he says at he sets down his shot glass.

Abeid, Ibrahim, and Pule introduce themselves and I am suddenly realizing how out of my league I feel.

The shirt with cut-out shoulders Judy loaned me in Al Ain is stuck to the worst parts of me and my black leggings are more gray than black.

The bathroom demons I’ve been battling since Nungwi aren’t backing down. My belly is part beer baby and whatever fun infection that Cipro has yet to relieve.

The travel blow dryer won’t communicate to my adapter, so I am rocking a sad 80’s perm, the result of humidity and genetics.

Realizing that I am:

A. Lightly buzzed

B. Far less attractive and articulate than my male counterparts

C. Likely to debate social or political issues like I tend to do when I drink…

I decide I better talk less and listen more.

The menu at Livingstones, an establishment in Zanzibar

“So, what are ya’ll talking about?”

“Oh, we were just discussing music theory,” Abeid responds.

Nodding my head seems like an appropriate response considering I have zero idea what exactly music theory is and can add absolutely nothing to the conversation, I shift the discussion around the table and ask, “How do you all find yourself together tonight?”

“What kind of question is that?” ‘ How do we find ourselves together?’ Pule’s tone, a tad judgmental, which his head shake communicates.

Unsure of the possible cultural wrong I’ve committed and feeling totally misunderstood, I sip my drink and shut up.

“She’s just asking a question, man calm down,” Ibrahim attempts to right my apparent wrong.

Not sure of the mistake I made, I try again, “What I am saying is, I have friends from different parts and times in my life. People who have known me in different phases–childhood, college, my 20’s, colleagues who have become friends – I could go on and on. Each group per se knows me for me at that time, in that place. Hopefully I’ve evolved, grown. You know? Wondering what your story is. How are you connected? That is all. Pretty simple.”

As I am explaining myself a tear is forming in my left eye. I know it is happening, I am quite aware of my affinity for crying out of sheer frustration.

Even in the dark, Abeid knows, “My God, you look like you are about to cry. My darling you are too sensitive. Much too sensitive.”

“Why, thank you for that. Yes, well aware. I have received such feedback more than once. I know it’s not a good look. Got it,” I say defensively.

Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. OK, you’re right I said ‘too sensitive’ which tells you it’s a bad thing, that I am judging you, but you are sensitive. Pule was just trying to understand your question. Can we start again?”

“Or we can talk about ice cream. What kind of ice cream do you like?” Ibrahim laughs.

“C’mon, man. We are having a real conversation, I’m sure Jodi can handle it, yes?” He continues, “Why Zanzibar? You’re an American traveling by yourself I’ll assume. What brought you to this part of the world?” Abeid leans back into his chair and awaits my response.

His tone communicating the confidence, my intellect escapes me in this moment.

Ibrahim and Pule lean in and the shift of their bodies and the flood lights perched on the old British Consulate Building illuminate their faces.

I now see quite clearly how nice it would be to not go home alone tonight.

My head is dizzy with the Kilimanjaro that I drank at happy hour with Linda, then the South African wine we had at dinner, and now the vodka shot I’m sipping.

“Well, I was in East Africa years ago and never made it to Zanzibar, so while it was always on my mind, I didn’t consider it beyond a thought until I was taking care of my father who became ill and died rather quickly, so–.”

A collective, “Sorry to hear that,” rings round the table.

I have to stop myself here because Lord knows I could go on and on and talk about my Dad.

About his death.

About the grief that invades my thoughts at the oddest moments, but I have some presence of mind left amidst the alcohol, jet lag, and stomach invaders to practice self restraint.

“It’s life, right? Anyway, I was watching teams weaving through the narrow streets in Zanzibar on The Amazing Race late one night and then I watched an episode of Anthony Bourdain when he was in Zanzibar and felt compelled to make this the time to come, so here I am.”

“Ahhh, Anthony Bourdain! Anything special about that episode that you remember?”

A waiter sets down another round of Kilimanjaro’s and changes out candles that have burned into nubs of wax atop beds of sand in the glass hurricanes.

Ahh, now I can see three wide, expectant smiles curiously anticipating my response.

Is there a correct answer?

I wonder.

Earlier, after Linda left and I wasn’t ready to go home, I sat at the bar, ordered a beer, and made small talk with the bartender as he muddled mint with a pestle.

I was wiping down my beer when a stranger stuck his head through one of the enormous, ornate picture windows that punctuate Livingstone’s stone facade, “Please, come join us,” his hand motioning to a table on the deck. His voice had a warm, rhythmic welcoming tone. His invitation reminding me just why I fell in love with this place.

Later he’d introduce himself as Ibrahim.

Look, in the U.S. I rarely am approached by a man. Any man.

I can count across my fingers the number of times I have been told that I am not approachable, have some hard, pensive look that prevents men from speaking to me. More often than not, I have taken that feedback personally-like something is wrong with me. My first inclination is to point the finger inward. Then, explain myself in order to be understood and accepted.

Like I am in 6th grade.

I am 45.

Yet, while traveling, men talk to me. I know, I know. You’re an American, you say. You have money, you think. True, true. But not all want something from me. Some, do. Most do not.

Some of the most enjoyable, enlightening, and honest conversations I’ve had have been with complete strangers in unfamiliar places. Whether it be the Indian-Canadian business men who ferried over from Dar Es Salaam or the Aussie National Geographic photographer – give me a communal table with complete strangers and a beer – and I am happy.

Sure, I’ve had to learn some hard lessons. Don’t broadcast you’re single. Dress modestly. Don’t walk alone at night. Don’t believe everything a person tells you.

Don’t assume the term ‘friend’ is universal.

Some of those strangers become friends. Others, I learned one of the above lessons too late.

Yet, through these interactions I’ve come to learn how much I don’t know. How much I have to learn about the world.

How damn critical is to love yourself. How important it is to see opportunity in each obstacle. Even in the dark, know the light will come.

“Jodi, so tell us. That episode. You were saying?” The cadence of Abeid’s voice is so familiar, like I somehow know him, but that is impossible.

“I remember Bourdain with Juma the street food vendor, him in a small village near the ocean with a local, the kids playing in the–”

Suddenly I realize why he is so familiar to me.

“Wait! It’s you. You! With your straw hat talking about the history of the island, your family. Holy sh**. You and Anthony Bourdain ate lunch together. No wonder why I thought your voice was so familiar.”

They all laugh.

“Straw hat? Where’d you get that hat again, man?” Ibrahim asks like being on a TV show is no big deal.

Another round of Kilimanjaro’s are placed down at the table. I scan the beach, look through the picture windows and realize we are the only people here.

“The hat with the brown brim, man. Indeed, Jodi. Yes it was me. We were in Jambiani where I have family,” Abeid explains.

I was out late that night. Much too late. The bartender kept the Kili’s coming while I marveled at the universe putting me in that bar on that night accepting a stranger’s invitation to join their table.

Pule walked me home. I went to bed alone and woke up with a slight hangover.

Later, while reminiscing about that evening and thanking the universe for such a story, I’d come to learn that one of my new friends was one of political royalty; Abeid being the grandson of the first President of Zanzibar.

I still shake my head and smile when I think back on that night.

Grateful for a stranger’s invitation.

I’m The Astonishing Jodi Arndt, Contributor For The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and I Am Astonishing And I Approve This Message!

Want To Leave Some Feedback On This Article? Be Kind, Be ASTONISHING? Fill Out The Form Below And Leave A Comment On This Article!

[amazon_link asins=’B075ZLVDGG,B016HGB97I,B0792V6CCC,B078KMNL87,B00MR2HV4C,B077YZ25SP,B077987D84,B01CSC6LHI,B01DPRXUTC’ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’theastonish0b-20′ marketplace=’US’ link_id=’8d18e070-1fcb-11e8-ab5e-25750e0b77f2′]

Happiness In Zanzibar: A Stranger’s Invitation "I was out late that night. Much too late. The bartender kept the Kili’s coming while I marveled at the universe putting me in that bar on that night accepting a stranger’s invitation to join their table."

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

afflatuss-blog

Achieve dreams

pepsi-writes

it's me

sexykwan

me @ svt: 🥰

readandblossom

Read & Blossom

kam678425

Untitled