minsungmp:
Smells Like Teen Angst || Pan&Minsung
Minsung practically blanched, he really hates strong odors, especially if one smelled like they never bathed ever since they were born. The other male smelled like one, it’s worse than a pile of corpses that’s mixed with rotting food. The other had been right about one thing, he’s oddly well too familiar with this kind of smell.
It reminds him of the smell of his home, near the slums of metropolitan where no one bats an eye and pretends it doesn’t exist. After all, Minsung the rotten smell of dirt and trash were the one that greeted him every morning, covering the sunlight from the cracked window like a dense cloud.
His eyes followed the other carefully as he walked closer to him. Which, he really prayed to any god that he wouldn’t take another step closer to him. None of his words seemed to have any threats to him rather, it feels like the stranger is just teasing and making fun of him.
“It does,” he mumbled out, letting the male approach him closer before he closed the distance between them and landed a punch on the other’s face enough that he can hear something crack, though he’s not sure if it’s his fists or the other’s nose.
“Sorry,” he apologized, there’s no emotions present in the tone of his voice. “Reflex,” he explained briefly, feeling not at all sorry.
If there’s one thing Pan can really tell about the demigod in front of him, it’s that the kid really hates him. He’s not even sure if the kid hates him in particular or if he’s just in a severely bad mood, but either way, the outcome is the same. It’s definitely a source of entertainment for the wild god; demigods never seem to know their place. Especially, it seems, when it comes to wild animals.
When the punch lands, Minsung barely has the time to drop the two little two-syllable words before a growling roar that a human throat should not be able to create booms from Pan. It’s not a sound of anger or even pain, but rather an older wolf telling a younger one it has gone too far in its play. A warning. There is nothing the demigod can do to actually hurt the god before him. But that doesn’t mean he should be trying either.
The roar echoes around them far more than it has any right to, a testament to Pan’s control over their current environment, and is still ringing when Pan pounces. He easily knocks Minsung into the dirt, holding him down with a god’s full weight. There’s barely any power put into it. It’s an easy enough task.
“Sorry,” Pan repeats, grinning at the still-gravelly sound of his own voice.
“Reflex.”
Eyes green as freshly sprouted plants silently egg on the boy trapped beneath him, practically begging for a fight.
The wild god could do with some play, even something as fragile as a mortal. He knows how to be careful with his toys.
Mostly.
















