#I feel like she’s probably itching to just get the trial over with and release the music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gotnofucks · 3 years

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A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

#sugary4kchallenge #soft!dark andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #soft!dark andy barber #andy barber

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biletdoux · 4 years

Text

stages of love | j.jh

Pairing | jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader Rating | M Genre + Tropes | college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut) Warnings | explicit language, alcohol consumption, instant love?, sexual content (drunk sex, receiving and giving oral, penetration, cow girl position, nipple play), greyzone fidelity Length | 15k+

Summary | A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: ahhhhhhh!!!! we finally did it boisssss. this fic has been a long time coming and honestly im sick and tired of jaehyun. i’ve spent too long thinking about him for this fic smh. this is also my first time writing smut so we’ll see how that goes lmao. anyway this was a long labor of love so please let me know what you thought of it !!! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be on your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?”

Your professor looks up from the board, scans the room and all he sees are most of the students waiting with bated breath, itching to leave the class, and half of those students having already packed their belongings in anticipation. He held them back an extra twenty five minutes today, which is notably longer than previous lectures in which he delayed dismissal.

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he has a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you have agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them.

You’re one of the first out of the small lecture hall and you shoot her a quick reply before making your way to the oncampus cafe. Through quickened strides and shortcuts engrained from cross-campus treks from class to class, you arrive in record time. You’re slightly out of breath and impressed by your speed, but you stop, frozen in your tracks when you see Yeri’s displeased face. You find her situated in a small, but cozy corner next to the windows, already unpacked with notebooks and papers strewn on the desk ready to review for exams. It's one of the best study spots in the cafe and you immediately know your best friend had to come extra early to nab such a sought after table.

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.”

Yeri looks at your jutted lips in disgust, but then her face softens in consideration. “Hm, I do know Jang.” She scrunches up her nose remembering her time in his class last semester. “That old man can talk for days on end and he never lets anyone leave class early. I guess I’ll let you go this time.”

You beam at her knowing she’s no longer angry for your tardiness. “Great, drinks are on me today. It’s the least I can do for being late.” Yeri forgives as easily and as quickly as she loses her temper. You learned this after a few weeks of being her roommate.

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserves for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

After paying, you head back to the table with two drinks in tow. Yeri takes her drink and after you both take a few sips and catch up for the day, you dive straight to work. The two of you decide to review for statistics.

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a performing arts college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second.

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.”

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.”

You happily agree and set down your pen. Yeri takes a sip of her frappuccino and you lean over the table to get closer to her. “Anyway, did you hear about what happened with Jiwon and Youngjae from the entertainment management department?”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri.

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit.

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

The two of you look up to see a slim and boyish brunet waving to Yeri and excitedly making his way to your table. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it, so you let it go.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?”

He flushes just the slightest bit, but it doesn’t escape your eyes. “Erm, nothing I just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting for the music theory project tomorrow at four. I would’ve texted, but I forgot to get your number in class, and I saw you here and thought it was a good opportunity to tell you.”

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

She reaches her hand out her hand expectantly, and Mark is confused before scrambling to pull out his phone. You can tell Mark looks flustered while Yeri is calmly putting in her contact information. After finishing, she hands his phone back, “okay, all set. Just shoot me a text so I have your number as well. Thanks for reminding me today or I probably would’ve forgotten and not have shown up or something.”

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.”

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind.

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri seems apathetic and you study her closely. You notice she’s acting a little too stiffly carefree to be truly indifferent to the situation. You can’t help, but to tease her a bit. “Well, make the most out of this project then.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing.

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

“As I was saying,” you started up again. A figure outside catches your attention and you peer outside through the window past Yeri’s shoulders. You realize it’s Mark and you watch with interest as he gestures excitedly, pointing to something in his hand, you assume his phone, to some of his friends. From there your eyes wander absentmindedly from one person to the next, and it’s when you see him.

The reaction is almost instantaneous.

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

When you see said boy laugh, you notice he has moon for eyes and you unconsciously suck in a sharp breath. You must have been staring too intently without noticing because he turns his head in your direction and you two hold direct eye contact. Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze and lose all rational thought. Your head is completely blank. You have never seen someone so beautiful and your mind does not know how to process any sensory information at the moment.

Someone calls the boy away and the entire group of friends leave. It’s only then do you find yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding onto so tightly. Your heart is pounding and you feel as though blood is rushing through your ears.

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her.

You feel a sudden heat rush to color your cheeks a vibrant red and a feeling surges through you that leaves you out of breath and weak at the knees. A steady warmth washes over you quietly and you feel it deep within yourself and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

2. Shadow by f(x)

adoration from afar.

“I’m really really into you.”

The next few weeks are packed to the brim with assignments and papers, but despite this, you still find time for your personal research into the boy who was with Mark that day.

Being the obvious first and easiest option, you beg Yeri to ask Mark directly about his friend, but she immediately shoots you down.

“No. Absolutely not. At least not anytime soon anyway,” she huffs. “I’ve barely held two full conversations with him, like hell the next is gonna be about his friend just cause my best friend started thirsting over him after one glance. I mean come on, girl.” She shakes her head at you.

Yeri’s right and you apologize to her for being thoughtless of her situation. She doesn’t say it, but she seems really hopeful about the music theory project and what might bloom from it. You would not want to impede on such possibilities of happiness for your friend, so you let that option go, but Yeri promises to help in other ways and she does.

Somehow between caffeine fueled cram sessions and sleep deprivation, you, with Yeri’s help manage to find out more about the boy. You casually ask around in your contemporary writing and production department and she offers help by searching her vocal performance department.

You find out his name is Jung Jaehyun and he’s a third year in the musical theatre department and that he’s a member of the local chapter of the performing arts fraternity on campus. You also discover his Instagram handle and you find yourself skimming through his page throughout the day more often than you’re willing to admit to any living soul.

You occasionally see him around campus since you first saw him at the cafe and each time, you can feel your heart hammer in your chest and you become so flustered to the point of your sympathetic nervous system activating. Unfortunately for you, your body unconsciously chooses flight each and every time at the sight of Jaehyun because you can always feel your knees go weak and your body lurch away to escape in any direction that isn’t Jaehyun’s. You kind of hate yourself each time you do, but you can’t help it. He’s just so pretty that it’s intimidating!

You try to think positive after the bouts of shame you experience after each escapade.

Well there’s no way to embarrass yourself in front of him if you run away before having the chance to, right?

Even thinking about it now in the comfort of your bed, you can’t shake your self-consciousness and bury your face in a large pillow resting on your knees. Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to do.

“Hey, why don’t you just talk to him, instead of moping all day and stalking his profile like a creep.” Yeri’s crisp words cut through your musings and you glance up to see her entering your shared room in the dorms.

“Shut up. It’s not like I have a benevolent match-making professor who happens to pair me up with my crush for an end-of-semester project.” You retort back before sighing dramatically, “I literally have no excuse to talk to him. We’re not in the same year or major. We don’t even have mutual friends. Unless, y’know, you and Mark hit it off, who knows.”

Yeri sits down next to you on your small twin bed, resting her head on your shoulder while letting out an equally dramatic sigh, “yeah, well, Mark’s so dense, all the divine intervention in the world isn’t going to help me.”

You let out snort, “what’s up with you two anyway?”

“Y’know, I could’ve sworn he was into me and I had a chance with him, but every time we meet up we literally only work on the project and nothing else. Every time I sort of tried to do something I get shot down. Like I told him I was kind of chilly today in the library, and he looks all thoughtful for a moment but all he ends up saying is ‘yeah, all the buildings on campus are always cold, huh? Good thing I always bring a jacket with me. You should bring one too next time, I don’t want you getting cold.’ And then he just turns back to the project like nothing. Can you believe him?” Yeri complains and you swear her annoyance is palpable. “And every time I text him to hangout, he thinks it’s to work on the project. I honestly can’t tell if he’s really that stupid or if he’s just not into me.”

You laugh at her unfortunate, but undeniable state of love affairs.

“Really? That bad? I remember him being all blushy when he asked for your number,” you recall. “And you should’ve seen how he looked when he showed off he got your number. Well that’s what it looked like anyway, I could be wrong.”

“Well, at least I’ll get a good grade though. Mark is nothing if not diligent and hard-working, with him being a double major and all.” Yeri sounds resigned however, she sighs again, this time more frustrated and you hear the determination in her voice. “Alright, after finals, for sure we’re gonna hit the clubs. We need to let loose, have some fun.”

You agree with her to appease her short temper, but deep down you feel disappointed. You feel sorry for your friend, having genuinely wanted Mark and her to work out, but a small and selfish part of you felt sorry for having no bridge to Jaehyun at all if it didn’t work out between Yeri and Mark. Looks like you were stranded now and you’d have to find a way to Jaehyun one way or another, but your line of help ends here.

Shaking away such negative thoughts, you think to yourself how soju bombs and dance floors don’t so bad after such an intense exam period after all. It will definitely take your mind off of things for sure.

And even though you say this to yourself, you know your mind will still be plagued with Jung Jaehyun no matter how much you try.

3. What Is Love by EXO-K

careful contemplation.

“I can’t explain what I feel.”

“Mark, tell me you did not.” The disbelief in Johnny’s voice made the situation all the more hilarious and even Jaehyun, who’s the calmer of the two, couldn’t suppress the guffaw from escaping his lips.

The tips of Mark’s ears flush a light pink and he tries to deliver a convincing argument, but all that comes out is a meek stammer, further driving Johnny up the wall.

When Mark came up to his and Johnny’s room asking for advice, Jaehyun had an idea of where it was going to lead, considering Mark’s clueless disposition and inexperienced track record, but Jaehyun had no idea it was going to be this bad.

Mark, having developed a crush on a fellow vocal performance major in his music theory class, came to Johnny, his frat big, to spill his guts and ask for advice constantly. Being Johnny’s roommate, meant Jaehyun was also privy to all the details of Mark’s love life and he had no problem giving advice to the amusing first year student, which Mark appreciated because going to Johnny meant a clowning session before he could get any useful nuggets of information.

When Mark’s music theory professor randomly assigned the two for the end of semester project, Mark was one part excited and two parts nervous, resulting in a frazzled mess. He has been going up to the second room on the right of the second floor of the frat house almost every other day to ask for advice since then.

Johnny was thrilled when he initially heard of the project, already envisioning his little’s love prospects, stating something along the lines of “my little’s gonna get laid!”

However, now looking at Johnny rubbing his temples in exasperation, Jaehyun can tell that his roommate’s initial enthusiasm has dissipated.

Mark’s daily roadblock today consisted of his crush giving him the cold shoulder and being much more snappy than before in the project meet up earlier. Mark recalls Yeri’s anger toward him and racks his brain for an answer. Even Johnny and Jaehyun are stumped at the sudden behavior, assuming that things were going smoothly from Mark’s previous reports filled with clumsy, but endearing and ultimately positive signs. It’s only when Mark offhandedly mentions her so-called ‘strange’ comment about the temperature, does it become clear why Yeri’s attitude suddenly shifted so drastically.

“I mean, I don’t know what I did wrong.” Mark’s second attempt to defend himself has Johnny flaring his nostrils in indignation and Jaehyun has to turn away in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Dude, she’s so into you. Or, at least she was, I don’t know about it anymore.” Johnny starts after calming down. “She left herself wide open for you to take a clear shot and you effectively said to her face, ‘thanks but no thanks’ and then walked away. No wonder she’s pissed, I’d be pissed too.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do then?” Mark counters.

“Mark,” Johnny begins, his tone dry and coarse, “you’re killing me.”

Jaehyun deems this the perfect time to step in, the laughter about done coursing through his system at this point. He clears his throat before offering his input, “It’s not too, too bad. Johnny’s just being dramatic. If she likes you enough, she’ll probably forgive you if you play your cards right from here on out.”

Mark perks up, his attention solely on Jaehyun.

Jaehyun hums absentmindedly to himself, gathering and organizing his thoughts to properly explain exactly where and how Mark went wrong and what to do moving forward. When Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, Mark is glued on to every word and Jaehyun can see the gears in his brain whirring at high speeds.

By the time Jaehyun is done, Johnny has calmed down and Mark nods his head fervently in understanding.

“Ah, that makes so much sense now! I got it now.”

Despite his assurances, both Johnny and Jaehyun know Mark will be back soon.

“Alright little, listen up,” Johnny starts. “Here’s the game plan from here on out.”

Johnny goes off on a sermon, determined to help his little ‘get some’ as Johnny so delicately puts it. Jaehyun can see it’s not the most tasteful of word choice for Mark to hear, but the youngest says nothing.

Lounging lazily in the bean bag on his side of the room, Jaehyun knocks his head back and thinks of a few weeks back when he accompanied Mark and some other frat members to the rec center for some basketball. Jaehyun remembers Mark was bemoaning the fact he forgot to ask for some girl’s number and it was as if a higher entity heard the boy’s laments and felt especially gracious, because right as they were passing the cafe, Mark stopped in his tracks and suddenly ran off into the busy building.

The group of frat boys watched him excitedly weave his way through the crowd of bodies and occupied tables to reach a table with two girls. When they saw the girl putting her number into Mark’s phone, Johnny elbowed Jaehyun, and like a proud parent Johnny exaggeratedly acknowledged his little. “They grow up so fast, don’t they, Jaehyun.” Johnny even wiped an imaginary tear from his eye to really send the message home.

It was only a few moments later and Mark came bounding out of the cafe, eager to show everyone how lucky it was that he happened to see her. “I mean what are the odds, right?” the said boy exclaimed so happily, his cheer so infectious, Jaehyun couldn’t help himself from letting out a laugh of his own.

Jaehyun turned to give Mark an encouraging pat on the back and it’s when he notices a pair of eyes on him. He turns fully to come in the direct line of sight of a girl whose eyes, Jaehyun imagined to have been very warm, had they not been burning holes into him. Her intense gaze slightly unnerved him, but not to the point of pulling away. He found himself entranced and the only thing that broke the quick spell was Johnny’s voice, calling him to move it along.

Jaehyun recalls easily breaking eye contact and giving little thought to the strange girl with fire for eyes, but as the days passed, Jaehyun couldn’t shake the thought of her from his mind.

Even now in the comfort of his room and with Johnny and Mark not even a foot away, carefully planning Mark’s love endeavors, all Jaehyun’s mind can really focus on is the thought of you.

Jaehyun is sure he’s only looked at you for less than a minute, but somehow he’s able to clearly trace out the image of you that day, like a perfect snapshot.

“Yo Jaehyun,” Johnny calls. “You good? You’ve been spacing out, bro.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jaehyun answers offhandedly, before contemplating to himself. Was he good? Jaehyun wouldn’t necessarily say he’s bad in any way, but it isn’t normal for him to have the thought of a girl remain so clearly engraved in his mind for so long, and even less common for it to actually be a girl he doesn’t even know nonetheless. It’s not a pressing issue, but it does bother him. He weighs over the next steps in his mind.

“Alright, just making sure.”

With one last thought, Jaehyun concludes to himself that it’s time to tackle his concern at hand head-on.

“Actually,” he starts, “Mark, do you remember the girl next to Yeri the day you asked for her number?”

Mark quirks his head in thought and Jaehyun can see Johnny raise his eyebrows in sudden interest.

“Uh kinda,” Mark answers. “I think she’s a CWP major. I’m pretty sure we shared an arranging class last semester, but like, I don’t know her personally or anything; it was a large lecture. To be honest, I don’t even think she recognized me at all, judging from her reaction that day. Why, what’s up?”

Jaehyun nods, absorbing the information, giving Johnny ample time to fire away.

“Yeah Jaehyun,” Jaehyun can visualize the glint in Johnny’s eyes just from hearing his mischievous tone. “What is up? I haven’t seen you ask about a girl in a hot minute. Thought you suddenly went abstinent without telling me or something.”

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure how to reply. Without a doubt you were cute to Jaehyun and he wouldn’t be opposed for things to happen between the two of you, but he doesn’t even know you! Well, not that it’s been a problem for Jaehyun in the past, but your lingering presence bothers him in ways he cannot communicate. Why is that the thought of you won’t leave him and why does it bother him so much?

Jaehyun decides to be straightforward, as straightforward as his muddled brain allows him to be. “She’s cute. I wanna get to know her.”

“Okay, Jaehyun.” Johnny whoops obnoxiously. “I see you.”

Mark is surprised and suddenly Johnny is all fired up again. Abruptly, Johnny shoots up and the determination that burns in his eyes is admirable.

“I’ve got it!” He declares proudly.

Jaehyun and Mark are quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue. They say nothing, knowing there is not a thing that can reach him when Johnny gets like this.

“We’re throwing a party and you bet your ass your two girls are gonna be there.”

4. Heaven by Ailee

walking on Cloud 9.

“When I hear your voice, it feels like I’m dreaming.”

You look up at the two-story house before you and wonder how you got here. Actually, you don’t wonder at all because you know exactly how you ended up at the steps of the local performing arts fraternity at your college, but you sigh regardless, as if someone had weaseled you into being here. Your nerves gnaw at you and you feel your stomach doing all types of aerobic tricks, the feeling reminiscent of the sensation before the roller coaster drops.

Yeri grabs your hand and pulls you excitedly to the front door. You can feel the thrum of music emanating from the building.

You recall how Yeri almost jumped you to tell the good news.

Finals flew by without any major hitches, ignoring sleepless nights and caffeine crashes. You don’t know how you’ll do, but you’re satisfied with your exam performances. You were in the clear and were just waiting for Yeri to present her joint music theory project before the both of you could finally let loose as a celebration to end the school year.

You waited for her outside of the classroom building as promised, playing with your phone to past time until you were suddenly engulfed by a delighted pair of arms. Yeri hugged you tight; she was in high spirits, seemingly from acing her presentation and you hugged her back in congratulations. She pulled at you closer and whispered in your ears, “just say yes.”

You were confused, but looked up to see Mark headed toward the two you. Yeri released you, leaving one arm still slung casually over your shoulder.

“Hey guys. My frat’s throwing a party tonight to celebrate finishing exams. I was wondering if, uh, you guys wanted to come? I mean you don’t have to, it’s totally optional.”

You didn’t say anything at first and Yeri interjected, “Of course!” She smiled at you innocently despite harshly pinching you to respond, her action hidden from Mark’s sight. “We’d love to, right?”

“Uh,” you answered distractedly. “Y-yeah, sure.”

“Great.” Mark beamed. “Party starts at eight. I gotta go help set up, so I’ll see ya there!”

And with that, he left as soon as he arrived and you looked at Yeri questioningly for answers. “I thought we were hitting downtown tonight. What happened to club hopping?”

Yeri smiled devilishly, “change of plans. I’ll tell you more about it later. The most important thing is finding the perfect outfit for you tonight, cause Jaehyun’s gonna be there.”

And so, here you find yourself dressed in high-waisted shorts and a cute top that took an embarrassingly long time to decide on. You are greeted by the fraternity president at the door of the house, Taeyong you think his name is, and he gives you two a quick verbal tour of the place, really emphasizing where to get drinks. Yeri thanks him for the both of you and you enter the crowded house. You think at least half of the performing art majors must’ve been here judging by the sheer volume of packed bodies.

You remember Yeri explaining how she and Mark may have been making a breakthrough and this party was imperative for its success. You were completely okay attending for that reason alone, because after all, what kind of person sends her best friend to a frat party alone? However, your resolve to go was set in stone after she explained that the frat that was throwing the party just happened to be the same frat Jaehyun was a member of.

“And y’know, seeing as how you’ve been obsessing over him the past few weeks, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You frown remembering her words and make your way to the kitchen with Yeri in tow. Various beverages, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, crowd the table and you recognize the guy standing nearby idly chatting with others. It’s Jaemin, an acting major in your history lecture with whom you frequently exchange notes with when either one of you decides to flake for the day. You vaguely recall him mentioning his fraternity association, but didn’t realize it happened to be this one. He sees the two of you approaching the drink table and he smiles widely.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” Jaemin greets casually. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How’d you think you did in the history final?”

You groan. “I don’t even want to talk about it. What’s important is that we’re finished and I won’t ever have to think about the WWII timeline for, hopefully, forever.”

“Amen,” Jaemin laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” He raises up his red solo cup to cheers, before realizing both you and Yeri had nothing to drink.

“Oh shit, I’m a pretty bad host, huh? First thing I should've done was get you two something to drink.” He chides himself, but his tone is playful. “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Before you can think about what you want, Yeri cuts you off, her tone matching Jaemin’s. “How about some shots to start off and we’ll forgive the lack of hospitality.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Alright, I like it.” His hands are adept at weaving around the table and finding the paper shot cups and the vodka. “Svedka’s okay, right?”

“We’re not picky.” You and Yeri agree. You take the shot in one gulp and the unpleasant burning in your throat makes you wince.

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think another shot and then a mixed drink. Anything’s fine, but preferably on the stronger side.” You look over at Yeri and she nods in agreement.

“Coming right up.” Jaemin agrees easily.

He pours the two of you another shot and you think he must be a generous guy because the shot is overflowing. You and Yeri cheer once more while Jaemin gets to work mixing a cherry bourbon with some Coke. He tops off the drinks with some ice before handing it over to the both of you. “Here they are. Enjoy, ladies.”

You thank him and take a sip before excusing yourself to make your way around the party. The drink is sweet and the smoky aftertaste of the bourbon gives it a pleasant edge. You and Yeri are attached to the hip as you drift from one part to another around the party, making easy going small talk along the way. You are sufficiently buzzed by this point and feel much lighter as though the party was somehow two degrees removed from your senses. You look over to check on Yeri and she’s noticeably drunker than you are, giggling about the simplest of things and slurring her words just the slightest bit. You make a mental note to ease the drinking, wanting to be sober enough to look after her in case anything were to arise.

The two of you are at the base of the stairs when you hear Mark’s voice calling Yeri’s name. You turn your attention upward to see him ambling down the stairs with excited fervor. His cheeks are flushed, more so than usual around Yeri, and you can tell it’s due to alcohol because Mark is holding her hands and you know he can never be so bold without the help of liquid courage.

“Yo Mark, slow down there.” A voice calls out and you look up again and you feel your breath caught in your throat.

There in front of your eyes is Jung Jaehyun in the flesh. He looks heavenly dressed in simple jeans and a white tee. You unconsciously swallow the lump in your throat and your heart beat gallops a mile a minute in your chest. Your mouth goes dry and you mindlessly gulp down swigs of your drink. You know Yeri would’ve sniggered at your current state had she not been so tipsy and completely preoccupied with Mark.

Jaehyun catches up to Mark and when he reaches the base of the stairs, he notices the two of you.

“Oh Jaehyun, lemme introduce you guys.”

As promised, Mark introduces everyone quickly and Jaehyun shoots a smile that seems to be aimed at you. “Nice to meet everyone.”

“Cool, now that everyone knows each other,” Mark starts. “Yeri, can I show you something?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

You give Yeri a hard look and she takes your hand to squeeze it in reassurance. She looks at you pleadingly and there’s a confidence in her eyes that you can’t argue with. You relent and let her go.

Mark takes her by the hand and leads her up the stairs while you watch, slightly worried.

Jaehyun seems to have sensed your apprehension because the words that leave his mouth snaps you out of your perturbed state. “Don’t worry. Mark’s a good kid, you have nothing to worry about. You have my word on it.”

And suddenly the situation dawns on you. The boy of your recent all-consuming infatuation stands here before you, and it’s just the two of you alone. Any social skills you have, leave you and you’re unsure of what to do.

Jaehyun notices the awkward tension in the air and works quickly to dispel it. “Your drink’s looking low. Can I get you something else?”

You look down to your drink to see that he was right. Only a few sips remain. You didn’t realize you had drank so much at the sight of Jaehyun.

“Um, some water would be good. I don’t want to be too hungover tomorrow.” You answer shyly. You also need to be sober enough to look after Yeri, but you decide to leave that out.

Jaehyun chuckles, “sure thing. Here, come with me. I’ll get you some water.”

Jaehyun leads you to the kitchen with ease, seamlessly weaving through the crowds of people. Every group of people he passes greets him loudly to be heard of the pounding bass of the music. You are not surprised to see how popular he is.

Once in the kitchen, he grabs you a bottle of water and a beer for himself from the fridge and you thank him. The cold water is refreshing, but it does little to cool your nerves. The awkward tension is high and still ever present. You feel as though you’re drowning in it and you also feel like running away from here despite this being what you’ve wanted for more than anything for weeks on end.

“So,” Jaehyun starts, clearing his throat. “Mark told me you’re a CWP major?”

“Uh, y-yeah, actually.” You hate how you’re so flustered around him. “How’d he know? Did Yeri tell him or something?”

“He said you guys shared an arranging class last semester.” Jaehyun recalls.

“Wait, really? I had no idea.” You start going off on how you could’ve missed such a thing and Jaehyun smiles. You’re much more comfortable when a rhythm has been established and the words flow out of you easily. You’re not as relaxed as where Jaehyun wants you to be, but he thinks it’s a good start.

You continue with small talk from there, much less uptight than before and you feel glad. Jaehyun is as radiant in person as he is in your imagination. You find him to be very kind and your heart flutters even more. Jaehyun mentions he’s a musical theatre major and you do your best to act surprised despite it being one of the only things you know about him prior to this moment.

Before he gets a chance to tell you more about himself, a tall boy with long limbs calls out to Jaehyun that it’s his turn to join the next game of beer pong. Jaehyun looks reluctant to leave and you don’t want him to leave either, but you’d hate to hold him back from prior engagements.

“Would you,” Jaehyun licks his lips in consideration, “like to play with me? I don’t have a partner.”

You nod your head and readily agree, eager to spend more time with him.

You’ve only played beer pong a handful of times and being around Jaehyun makes you nervous, so you miss the first few shots. You feel embarrassed, but Jaehyun is patient and assures you that it’s no problem at all. His little words of encouragement mixed with the beer you drink helps melt your tension, and halfway through the game, you’re whooping and hollering with everyone watching the game.

You high-five Jaehyun without a second thought after nailing a perfect shot and Jaehyun smiles even wider. The two of you are leading when Taeyong comes in to kick everyone out.

“Sorry guys, party’s over.”

Groans of complaints could be heard throughout the crowd, but Taeyong’s words are firm and he ushers everyone to leave. He has a few other frat members behind him helping out. He reaches the beer pong table and pulls Jaehyun aside. After a few exchanged words, Jaehyun nods in agreement and ends the game completely, apologizing to his opponents.

You’re confused, so you carefully ask Jaehyun what’s going on. He sees you and his gaze softens, he quietly explains, “apparently, the campus police have received multiple noise complaints and since the fraternity already has a strike, Taeyong doesn’t really want to risk another. “

“Ah, I see.” You nod. You’re saddened by the turn of events, having finally eased into a relative comfort around Jaehyun and you yearn for more. “Well, I better go look for Yeri then.”

This is a goodbye and you’re unsure of what else to say to him, your disappointment mixes with alcohol making you feel even more miserable. You want to ask for more, but can’t find the words to reach him. Luckily, Jaehyun does it for you.

“Are you free sometime this week?” He asks. “I feel like we didn’t get a chance to really talk and I’d like to.”

Your heart hammers and the blood rushes in your ears, but you still find yourself uttering a mousy agreement.

“Great,” his smile is dazzling and you feel dizzy. “It’s a date then.”

5. 24 Hours by Sunmi

rushed minutes.

“Time goes by so quickly.”

“Hey,” a distant voice calls out and Jaehyun looks up from his phone to see your approaching figure. Your cheeks are rosy from the summer sun and stray pieces of your hair escape from your loosely styled updo. Jaehyun takes all of you in with careful appreciation.

“Hey yourself.” Jaehyun chuckles, slipping his phone casually in his pocket and standing up straighter to greet you properly.

Jaehyun sees the red of your face flush brighter, the soft color bleeding across your cheeks and onto your nose. Cute, he thinks. He watches as you tighten your grip on your clutch, knuckles white with nervous tension, in an attempt to gather your composure and calm your nerves. You clear your throat, “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon. You should’ve texted me.”

“It’s all good, I finished early.” Jaehyun notices you no longer stutter around him like the first night you two met. He’s glad the days and nights of sober texting after exchanging numbers at the party did wonders to make you feel comfortable around him. He’s not too worried about your current ‘first-date’ anxiety, knowing it’ll be dispelled soon enough. “Shall we?” He moves to open the door and the cool rush of air from the cafe greets the two of you.

The cafe is quaint and cozy, tucked away in a small corner of intersecting back streets and crowded buildings. Jaehyun discovered the little spot not too long ago and something, Jaehyun assumes his instincts, compelled him to take you to it for the first official date. It just felt right.

The two of you walk to the order counter and you take it all in. You can hear the quiet chatter of the cafe occupants mixed with the rattle of espresso machines being put to work. Your eyes scan over the decorations and several potted succulents hanging from the ceiling. It’s incredibly homey and you feel at ease.

“Hiya, I can help the two of you whenever you guys are ready.” The barista is cheerful to a fault and Jaehyun watches you shoot her a grateful smile before your eyes move to the menu to decide on what to get.

Jaehyun knows what he wants, so he waits patiently for you to decide, but seeing your eyebrows scrunch together in indecision, Jaehyun chuckles to himself. “I hear the iced lattes here are really good, particularly the caramel latte,” he offers.

You perk up in surprise, but you recover quickly, “okay, that sounds good then. I was between that and the iced cocoa.”

“No problem, I’ll order then. Today’s on me.” Jaehyun says.

Jaehyun walks up to the barista and quickly places the order. He reaches for his wallet after the barista recites the order, but he falters slightly when he sees your gaze glued to the cake display, particularly the crepe cake.

“Can I get a slice of the chocolate crepe cake over there too?”

“Of course! Here’s your new total,” she turns the touch screen display over to Jaehyun and he readily inserts his card to pay. When finished, Jaehyun turns back the screen and after a few taps from the barista, a receipt is printed and she hands him a buzzer.

“Your order will be out shortly.” She informs him.

Jaehyun smiles and says a small ‘thank you’ in return before turning his attention to you. You look up to meet his eyes and you smile, “can we sit over there by the window?”

You head to the little corner table first with Jaehyun steadily in tow. You sit at the chair that leaves your back to the window and Jaehyun is mesmerized by how the afternoon sunlight refracts through your silhouette. You’re glowing and Jaehyun swallows thickly.

“So,” he starts. “What have you been up to?”

“Celebrating finishing my first year of college in one piece.” You laugh lightly. “I got by with passable grades, but other than that Yeri and I just finished moving into our new dorms. We’re no longer freshmen, so first year dorms are off limits. I’m gonna miss the convenient location.” You jokingly mope.

Jaehyun laughs easily with you and before he gets a chance to reply, the buzzer goes off so he excuses himself to go pick up the order.

A different barista places down a tray with your two drinks and a small slice of cheesecake with two dessert forks resting on some napkins. “Enjoy your order!”

Jaehyun smiles in thanks and picks up the tray to bring it back to the table. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the mille crepe cake and true to his expectations, your eyes light up at the sight of dessert.

“Surprise.” He says. “I saw you looking at it earlier.”

Jaehyun watches as you immediately grab a small fork and try a piece of the cake with unrestricted child-like excitement. Your eyes light up at the taste of the delicate layers of fresh whipped cream and thin crepes and the smile you shoot in his direction has Jaehyun’s heart beating a little faster than he’s willing to admit.

“Thank you!” You look up at him. “It’s so good, you should definitely try a bite too.”

“Yeah? I’ll try some then.” Jaehyun sits down and leans even closer to you over the table, his mouth open and expectant and his eyes staring straight into yours.

You try your best to bite back the scarlet fighting to stain your cheeks as you cinch off a small section of the cake with your fork. Your hand falters just the slightest bit when delivering the small confection to his awaiting mouth, but you push through and feed him despite the embarrassment you feel.

Jaehyun chews slowly and deliberately, taking his time to lick the stray whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. You lose the game of chicken, breaking eye contact first.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s good. We should definitely come back.”

You let out a little awkward cough, desperate to ward off your cloud of emotions. “Uhm, yeah sure.”

Jaehyun has always thought you were cute, but he thinks you’re especially cute today.

“Anyway,” you start. You want to change the topic because you don’t think you can survive this tension without your brain frying. “I feel like I’ve just seen you around recently. I should’ve run into you a long time ago since the performing arts college is so small.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun is a little taken aback. “I used to be over at the East Campus. I was a business and administration major for two years before I switched over to musical theatre.”

“Wait really?” Your surprise erases any tension you felt earlier. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It doesn’t really come up in conversation.”

“Why’d you switch over? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Jaehyun contemplates his reply for a second as takes a sip of his coffee. “Well, when I entered college, I didn’t really know what I wanted, so I just followed whatever my parents wanted me to do. I actually knew I liked musical theatre for the longest time, but it took time for me to build up the courage to switch. My parents weren’t happy with it at first and we fought for the longest time, but I think they’ve warmed up to it enough by now. I’ve never really talked about this though, I just tell people I transferred from a different college and the conversation just ends there I guess, but it’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you for telling me this, Jaehyun.” Your voice is sincere and Jaehyun believes you.

“What about you, hm?” Jaehyun returns. “Why CWP?”

“I don’t really have one point that changed my life and helped me find my calling or whatever,” you ponder with a tilt of the head and the taste of cream dissolving in your mouth. “But ever since I was little, I always knew I was gonna end up doing something in music. I was never good at singing though, so vocal performance was out the door and I wasn’t that interested in classical instruments either, so that helped me narrow stuff down. Actually, what really helped me decide was during orientation, my group leader was a contemporary writing and production major and she told me all about it and I’ve been sold ever since. I really like it though, and have no intention of switching.”

“That’s good. Sometimes I wish I switched earlier.” Jaehyun muses. “I feel so behind sometimes. Most people in my class have already been in at least one musical and an internship, except for me. I think about it a lot, but I try not to let it get me so down.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way!” You try your best to cheer him up, and Jaehyun appreciates it a lot more than he thought he would. “Everyone has their own pace, that’s what college is all about! Nothing is ever wasted time. You can think of your time as a business admin major as a way to help you make up your mind on your true passion. You told me you’ve always liked musical theatre, but I’ve bet without the time in business, you would’ve never known you liked it enough to pursue a career out of it.”

Jaehyun laughs at your earnesty. He thinks you’re a touch naive, but your words make him feel light. “You’re right. I can say for sure I wasn’t happy as a business major.”

“See? Nothing is ever wasted time if you can discover your true happiness out of it.”

The two of you exchange easy chatter after that and between small bites of cake and sips of coffee, Jaehyun thinks you’ve become prettier and prettier.

“What was it like?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Hm? What was ‘what’ like?”

“Being a business and administration major.”

Jaehyun has to think about it. He recalls constantly dressing up for group presentations and boring lectures, but his mind wanders to his activities outside the classroom. He remembers the constant partying and the blur of faces that helped him keep his bed warm. He remembers brief flings and relationships cut short. He doesn’t want to think about those things when he’s next to you. “Uhm. It was okay, nothing special, but that reminds me–”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why, what’s up?”

“Great,” Jaehyun smiles while taking the last sip of his coffee. “I’m having a housewarming party at my new apartment. You should definitely be there.”

The day of the long awaited housewarming party rolls up sooner than expected between settling into your new dorm with Yeri and the occasional small ‘get-togethers’ with Jaehyun. They’re actually dates if you're being honest, but you don’t want to put a title on anything in case he wasn’t on the same page as you. Being with Jaehyun made you giddy in more ways than one, but that means the anxiety that pools at the base of your stomach grows larger each day when the relationship between the two of you goes unnamed. You feel greedy when you desperately grasp at the shred of time you share with him, always unwillingly to let go.

“Are you ready?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your small reverie. Her hand is poised, ready to knock on the black door of Jaehyun’s apartment, waiting for you to gather your composure. Yeri is dressed to the nines in a cute skirt with a top to match. She wants to look good for her new boyfriend and you teased her endlessly for it when the two of you were getting ready.

“Mark’s one lucky guy.”

“Shut up. Worry about yourself.”

“All I do is love you, yet you’re so mean to me.”

Regardless of her harsh words toward you, she helped you toss your closet inside and out for the perfect outfit to woo Jaehyun, even if it meant showing up late to the party.

The two of you leave your dorm twenty minutes later than you intended and it also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s apartment was difficult to find, tucked away in a small building between towering skyscrapers, but now is finally the moment of truth.

“Yeah, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you mutter as you watch Yeri knock on the door.

It takes a minute before the door creaks open and Jaehyun’s head pops out. His smile is radiant and you’re absolutely ensnared by the way his fringe falls over his forehead.

“Hey, glad you two could make it.” Jaehyun opens the door wider to allow you and Yeri to enter. He greets Yeri with polite warmth while he wraps an arm over your shoulders. When Yeri heads in the apartment first with her back against the two of you, Jaehyun steals a quick peck to your temple and whispers, “you look pretty tonight.”

His touch is fleeting and he pulls back quickly, as if you imagined the whole thing, but his cheeky smile tells you that it really did happen. Your heart hammers and you force yourself to focus on the steady thrum of mellow R&B that reverberates throughout his apartment to calm yourself. You take his apartment in steady strides with your full attention. It’s sleek and modern with a few pops of his personality here and there in the form of trinkets decoration choices.

“Hey!” Johnny calls over from the couch. He has a beer in hand, but he’s far from tipsy. Flanked on one side is Doyoung with another beer to match and on the other is Sicheng. Seulgi, the girl, who you assume is Sicheng’s significant other, by the way his arm is casually wrapped around her waist, is also there and she nods at you in greeting. You've come to know about all of them after hanging out with Jaehyun so much. “Did you guys get lost or something?”

“Yeah,” Yeri replies as she moves to sit next to Mark who’s on the adjacent loveseat and resting a drink on the coffee table. “Something like that.”

She places a sweet kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth in greeting and you swear you can hear him crooning at the attention.

“Doesn’t matter, Johnny. The important thing is that they’re here now.” Jaehyun interjects. “Do you guys want anything to drink?”

“That’d be nice.” You hum.

Yeri laughs in agreement, “yeah, the two of us could never say no to a drink.”

“Alright, I’m on it.” Jaehyun calls while moving to the kitchen. “Any preferences?”

“No,” you say. “Surprise us.”

Jaehyun works to mix drinks and you take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table to observe the party. Perched on the shelf of a slender bookcase in the corner of his living room is a bluetooth speaker playing music, the rhythm quiet and bass steady as everyone chatters away once introductions are made on the sofas. You remember him offhandedly mentioning that he doesn’t want any noise complaints on his first week in the new place and it makes sense. Jaehyun’s housewarming party is a quiet affair that is far different from the wild party at the frat house in which you met him, but you think this vibe fits Jaehyun more.

Jaehyun returns shortly with two drinks in tow for you and Yeri and sits himself snugly next to you on the floor. He picks his idle beer from the coffee table and once Johnny realizes that everyone in the proximity has a drink in hand, he raises his voice and beer in a toast. “It sucks that Taeyong couldn’t make it tonight, but here’s to having fun without him. We’re gonna get twice as fucked up to make up for his absence, cheers!”

Everyone lets out a chuckle, but obliges to humor him anyway and joins to connect their drink to his in cheers.

You pull your cup back and take a big gulp of the drink. It’s sweet and carbonated, but the sting of alcohol at your throat leaves you wincing just the slightest bit.

A few pleasantries are exchanged here and there, but it’s only then does Doyoung pull out a deck of cards with a devilish glint in his eyes that deceive his looks.

“Ring of fire, anyone?”

After who knows how many rounds of ring of fire (and maybe a few other drinking games here and there) with too many drink refills for you to remember, you somehow find yourself splayed on the couch and leaning over Yeri’s shoulder in support. Seulgi is on the other side of you leaning on you for support, the same way you’re doing to Yeri, but you don’t mind it one bit. The three of you have grown surprisingly close with one another throughout the night.

Your mind is lucid enough to still be conscious and completely aware of where you are and what you’re doing, but the alcohol in your system eats away at the details in your memory.

You vaguely recall ridiculous punishments that involved Johnny twerking on the dining room table and Mark taking a shot of Jack Daniels mixed with ketchup, and you can’t help but snicker to yourself.

“I think we should get going now.” Sicheng is the first to speak as he moves to help Seulgi up. “It’s getting late.”

Doyoung looks a little groggy, but when he checks the time, he perks up immediately, “oh shit, you’re right. I need to get going too, I’ve got something in the morning.”

With that everyone shuffles to clean the remnants of the party with as much grace as they can muster while intoxicated, which wasn’t much, but in twenty minutes, Jaehyun is already walking half the party to the door in goodbye. Only you, Mark, and Yeri are left.

“Hey Yeri,” Mark calls softly to Yeri as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Are you ready to go too?”

Yeri is still sprawled on the couch with you, but mumbles a small response. “Yeah, I should be. Give me a second.”

She turns over to you and nudges you just the slightest bit. “I’m gonna go back to Mark’s tonight, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her. “I’ll be fine, just go have fun.”

“She’s free to rest here until she’s ready to leave, don’t worry. I’ll call a cab for her when the time comes.” Jaehyun pipes up.

Yeri gives you a look, but you squeeze her hand one last time to give her some peace of mind. “I’m a big girl, Yeri. I’ll be okay, promise. I’ll walk you to the door, Mark’s waiting.”

You give Yeri a tight hug in goodbye and you find your way back to the couch. The fact that you’re all alone in Jaehyun’s apartment doesn’t hit because of the remnants of alcohol in your system melts away your nerves.

You’re pleasantly buzzed, lost in your own thoughts when Jaehyun comes up to you with a glass of water in hand. “Here, so you don’t feel as bad tomorrow morning.”

You accept it gratefully and take in big gulps, the water refreshing, but your skin feels hot.

Jaehyun takes a seat next to you and the proximity makes your head spin. You turn to look at him, and he flashes you a smile.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You might’ve mentioned something.” You tease. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well,” he hums. You’re not sure, but you think the distance between the two of you is decreasing. “You really do look stunning tonight.”

You flush at his words, but you look straight into his eyes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Yeah? I try to impress.” Jaehyun’s eyes are hooded and your throat goes dry. “Can I kiss you?”

You say nothing at first, his words not registering into your muddled brain, but when you feel his breath ghost over your lips, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can taste the vodka on his breath, but to you it’s perfect. Jaehyun’s perfect.

Jaehyun kisses you with reserved passion and practiced expertise. His tongue sets the rhythm against yours and his roaming hands have you feeling as if you’ve been set ablaze. He pulls back just the tiniest bit and the intense longing for his touch that hits you is indescribable.

You pull him back in your arms and your lips reconnect in a desperate fervor. Jaehyun adjusts his arms around you and the next you know, you’re in his embrace and he’s carrying you to his bedroom. He places you down gently, his bed is plush and comforter soft.

Jaehyun’s touch is gentle as he gathers your face in his hands. He kisses you again and you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him closer. He pulls back and looks at you earnestly. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Everything’s moving so fast and you’re dizzy, but you don’t want whatever this is to stop. You want to be as close to Jaehyun as possible.

“No,” your voice is hoarse. “Don’t stop. I want you, Jaehyun.”

He kisses you again, this time unrestrained. His tongue is hot, but you can only savor it for a minute before he starts trailing kisses down your neck and tugging at your shirt. You let out a breathy moan in response to how his touches make you feel.

Jaehyun reaches at your shorts and makes quick work at unbuttoning them. You help him remove the article of clothing and his slender fingers dart inside your panties. You’re slick to the touch and Jaehyun must be made of magic because you think you’re seeing stars. You unravel before him embarrassingly quick, but he kisses you at the base of your clavicle in sweet reassurance.

Your chest is heaving, but you want more. You grab at Jaehyun’s shirt, urging him to take it off. The expanse of his abdomen is a sight to behold, but Jaehyun is cruel and doesn’t give you the time to take it in. He’s on top of you again, lips crashing onto yours once more. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and while he’s pre-occupied, you unbuckle his belt and steal a moment in his boxers. He feels thick and hot in your hands as you run your finger over the tip to feel a drop of pre-cum. He buckles just the slightest bit and it emboldens you.

Jaehyun helps himself out of his jeans and you push him onto the bed wanting to be on top this time. He’s straining against his boxers and you want to help relieve the tension. When you pull off his boxers you can feel his inaudible groan. You stroke his length gingerly and look up to see him with hooded eyes look right back at you.

This excites you so you take him in your mouth in a moment of unfiltered courage. Your tongue starts at the base before tracing your way up to his sensitive head. You tease him accordingly to his quiet grunts and groans and when you feel like he’s had enough, you take all of him in until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. You gag a bit, but push through.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun stutters out between stacatoed breaths. “Babe, you’re so good.”

You hum in pleasure at his praise and he grabs your hair. This goes on for a few more minutes before he reaches down to stop you. “Not that I don’t love this,” the look in your eyes nearly has him faltering his words, “but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

You relent with a slick pop and Jaehyun shifts over to rummage for a condom in his nightstand. You settle back down in his pillows. Jaehyun gives you a soft kiss on the lips before he enters you.

“Tell me when it’s okay to move,” he whispers and you place a small kiss at the base of his neck.

He starts off slow to let you acclimate to his size, but neither of you are very patient, so he ends up pounding into you a lot sooner than he anticipated and you find yourself getting caught up in the pleasure.

It feels like you’re dreaming, but if this was a dream, you never want to wake up.

6. Hush by Miss A

shh, no talking, just us.

“I can’t think straight.”

You and Jaehyun don’t become official until a few weeks later.

He asks you one day when you’re naked and out of breath. You’ve gone one too many rounds with him and a thin layer of sweat coats your body as you lay on his heaving chest. You absentmindedly draw shapes on his skin and he gives you a chaste kiss to your temple.

“We should date.” He hums. “I think I’d make a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” You raise your eyebrow in teasing.

“Yeah,” he ascertains. “Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think it over as if this wasn’t you’ve been hoping for since the first moment you laid eyes on him. “Okay. Let’s give it a try, boyfriend.”

Jaehyun laughs and you feel the world fall into its right place. “Alright, girlfriend.”

And the rest is history as they say.

Jaehyun isn’t your first, but you experience many firsts with him. You’re not exactly inexperienced, but he really opens your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans into your neck. His hands grip at your hips to help guide you along, but you’re fully in charge. “You’re doing so good, babe. Just like that.”

You didn’t see yourself as someone who liked to take charge during sex, but after that one time Jaehyun asked you to top, you’ve never looked back since.

You roll hips into him and at a pace you know drives Jaehyun wild and you pull him into a sloppy kiss. It’s all tongue and no grace, but you love it the same regardless. You capture his bottom lips between your teeth playfully before pushing him flat on his back until he’s firm against his plush mattress. You place a hand on his chest and the other on his thigh to balance yourself and Jaehyun immediately knows you’re close.

A hand rests on your hip to steady you while the other snakes over to play with your clit to further stimulate you toward your climax. Jaehyun knows what you like and his timing is impeccable, so before you know it, both of you are reaching your highs together. You collapse on his chest and you allow yourself to stay in his warmth long enough to have your breaths synchronize before you extricate yourself from him to head to his bathroom.

When you come back out, he’s disposed of the used condom and opens your arm wide for a hug, which you gladly indulge in.

Time stops when you’re in his arms.

On the surface, it looks like Jaehyun likes to mix it up. He seems like an elusive guy with varied tastes, but the more time you spend with him, you realize he likes the control of seeing you unravel before him.

He likes the intimacy of missionary.

The close proximity to your body has him looking into your eyes and leaving you feeling the most vulnerable of ways. He has full access to your neck, which he lovingly claims as his own and you chide him the next day when you see scattered purple blooms. Jaehyun changes his pace on a whim and you fall to his mercy. When he takes you fast and hard, you see stars, but when thrusts in you with languid leisure, he has you begging for more.

He likes the intensity of taking from behind.

When you’re on your knees with your ass in the air, he takes it as a guarantee to fuck you senseless. Your muffled moans makes his dick twitch and you swear you can feel him fuck into you even faster. Jaehyun always makes sure to wrap his arms around you to finger your clit until you go into sensory overload and he doesn’t stop pounding into you until there are tears in your eyes. He kisses each one away before taking your lips in his and you can taste the salt water on his tongue.

He likes the dominance from eating you out.

He laps at your core like a starved man and makes good use of his adept fingers until your head is spinning. Jaehyun makes it a habit to eat you out until you’re satisfied before he gets his turn. When your thighs are on either side of his head and your hands tangled in his hair, he swears he can stay there forever.

Above all, Jaehyun just likes you. He likes being with you and he definitely likes fucking you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mmmh,” you breathe out.

Your back is flush against Jaehyun’s back as you rock your hips back and forth on his dick. You grind your ass back even harder when he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

He kisses your shoulder blade from behind and bucks his hip upward to meet you in the middle.

The afternoon sunlight is streaming in from the gaps of his blinds and you want to take it nice and slow today. The television in front of you is playing a movie, but you’re too enraptured by the feeling of him filling you to the brim to pay it any mind.

“I love it when you’re on top, babe.” he hums as he plays with your clit.

You let out another breathy groan before you can find the composure to bite back at him. “What happened to no sex today, hmm? I thought we were just going to have innocent quality time together and watch a movie.”

Jaehyun must’ve not liked your sass, so he bucks up harder. He’s telling you to pick up the pace and you oblige. Before you know, you’re practically bouncing on his dick and you can feel your impending high about to crash down on you. He can sense it too and maintains his tempo. When you cum, Jaehyun rides on the tail of your climax in pursuit of his own. He cums shortly after with stuttering hips and a bite on your shoulder. He gathers you in his arms and runs his tongue soothingly over where he bit you and the various love bites that he’s littered on the expanse of your skin.

“Just being with you is quality time in itself.” He says. “Besides, class is starting soon, so I won’t get to see you as much.”

7. Disturbance by BoA

a ripple on the surface.

“I didn’t know at first.”

“So I do have a roommate after all,” Yeri’s voice calls out and you turn over to see her standing by the doorway. You roll your eyes at her, but quickly turn back to gather your things.

She lets out a chuckle, but you don’t miss the sour edge to her tone. “I thought I got a single dorm since it’s so empty all the time.”

“You say that, Yeri,” you retort. “But I know you’re over at Mark’s constantly so I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“Yeah, but I make time to come back here and I always let you know when I’m going out. I feel like I’ve only seen you maybe once or twice the past few months. I feel like the only reason I see you these days is ‘cause of classes.”

“You’re just exaggerating, don’t be so dramatic. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

She looks displeased, but nothing leaves her lips as the two of you head out for the day.

It’s late.

When night falls, shadows come out to play and your college campus is riddled with them. The school auditorium is situated in the far corner of the campus and the lamp lights of the main walkways do little, but you pay it little mind. Jaehyun should be getting out soon.

It takes another ten minutes to see him emerge from the double doors and you perk up immediately at the sight of him. He looks a little shocked to see you, but greets you with a warm hug and small peck regardless.

“Hey,” his voice is small, almost reserved. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I was finishing late tonight.”

“Oh, you did, but I still wanted to see you.” You explain, eyes bright and tone undeterred.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he licks his lip. “But it’s really late and I still have more stuff I need to work on. I’ll see you some other time, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. Next time.”

“Oh hey,” you smile, but Yeri’s fury is palpable and cuts through you.

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me.” She spits out. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Sheepish, you reply, “oh sorry. I forgot to fully charge it before leaving and Jaehyun and I have different phones, so I couldn’t charge it at his place.”

“You were at Jaehyun’s?” Yeri is glaring at you at this point and you feel a bit peeved.

“Yeah. What of it?”

Yeri’s been getting angry at you recently, losing her temper at the drop of a hat, and you can’t seem to pinpoint why. You’re getting tired of being her punching bag.

“We made plans to go shop for Seulgi’s gift today. You promised you’d be there, don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit.” It completely slips from your mind and you open your mouth to apologize, but Yeri cuts you off before you get the chance.

“Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Yeri turns to leave before you can say anything back.

8. Symptoms by SHINee

something’s wrong.

“The worse it gets, the more exhausted I get.”

Jaehyun feels off.

He can’t pinpoint exactly what he is that he’s feeling, but he thinks it’s reminiscent of his world being tilted by six degrees. It’s not immediately jarring and takes little time for his eyes to register, but he’ll occasionally bump his toe, signalling that this isn’t right. Things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. His head spins just the slightest bit and he feels woozy, but he doesn’t know why.

Jaehyun just feels off.

Jaehyun checks the bulletin board of his school auditorium almost religiously.

Each time before and after class, he’ll swing by and peruse the flyers that hang from haphazardly stuck on pins. He ignores the tutoring offers and the part time jobs scams, his main focus is almost always on the center of the board where they post the upcoming musical theatre production and eventually, the cast list.

This semester, the chosen production is La La Land and Jaehyun has been dead set on landing the role of Sebastian Wilder. He stays back extra late each day to practice the script and to work on his singing and annunciation.

On the day of the audition, he’s sure he’s nailed it and thinks to himself the world must be ending if he weren’t to get the leading role.

When he leaves the auditorium in a rush, excitement flows through his veins and he drinks in the night air as a toast of victory. He’s tipsy on his excitement and wants to laugh out loud, but in the corner of his vision, he sees you. Your eyes light up the sight up, outshining the moon and the stars, but your visage does not elicit the reaction he thinks it should. He expects his heart to swell and burst, but somehow he feels heavy.

He pulls you in for a hug and a quick kiss to quell his weighted heart, but he thinks he’s starting to sink so he calls you off for the night. He’ll see you next time.

Yeah, next time will be better.

You’re snuggled up close and personal on Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun notices you fill every nook and cranny of his being perfectly to a tee, and yet that feeling. It’s there again.

Jaehyun feels off.

You laugh at something one of the characters say and you cuddle harder into him. He feels heavy again and it makes his throat itch, so he swoops down and captures your lips.

It’s hard and fast to scrub away at his uneasiness and before he knows it, his clothes are missing, but so are yours. The foreplay is brief and almost impersonal, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to be inside you.

When Jaehyun has you begging and writhing, he feels like the world is where it should be. No longer is he living at a slight angle when he’s buried to the hilt inside your warmth, so when he sees you, he does what he can to get you out of your pants.

Today is no different from any other.

After a satisfying session you roll on his chest. Your kiss is soft and sweet despite the sweat that covers both of your bodies. He hums quietly as he taps melodies on along your exposed spine.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

Ah. Jaehyun thinks he’s getting it now, why he’s feeling off.

Jaehyun thinks he’s being suffocated.

To the surprise of no one, and especially not to him, Jaehyun gets the leading role of Sebastian Wilder in La La Land. He was a shoe-in for it anyway and he made sure to put in the work to get it.

His leading lady is someone by the name of Park Sooyoung, but at the first rehearsal she introduces herself as Joy.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She offers her hand out in a friendly greeting. “Here’s to a successful show together, Jaehyun.”

Her smile is blinding and he thinks Joy is a fitting name. He grasps her outstretched hand, grip firm and sure.

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Here’s to a good show together.”

Rehearsals span over blurred minutes and long hours.

Jaehyun sees less and less of you and spends more and more time with her.

During a quick water break, he scans his phone briefly to see a text notification from you. He takes another swig of water and returns to the rehearsal.

It’s okay, he can always text you back later.

9. Before U Go - TVXQ!

letting go.

“I will leave now.”

“Come on!” You tug both Mark and Yeri along excitedly. “I want to get good seats.”

Yeri rolls her eyes, but obliges anyway, pulling Mark along. It’s opening night for Jaehyun’s big musical and you wanted to be there no matter what to support him. Johnny, Doyoung, Taeyong, Sicheng, and Seulgi are already inside waiting and you’re not sure if they were able to save the three of you a spot.

After a long chat with Yeri, you apologized profusely to her. You did get blinded by your relationship with him and prioritized him over everything, forgetting your friends and other responsibilities in the process. Yeri forgave you easily and helped keep you in line when you went to head over heels for Jaehyun.

However, after patching things up with Yeri, you begin to notice a shift in your relationship with Jaehyun’s. You’re not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost feels like a distance almost.

You chalk it up to his busy rehearsal schedule and choose not to dwell on the topic, in fears of your wandering imagination. It should be fine. After his musical is over, he’ll be less busy and things will fall back into place.

Right?

“Over here!” Seulgi waves over excitedly.

The auditorium is starting to fill up and you want to get comfortable before the show starts.

Everyone greets each other in hushed tones and soon enough, the show starts.

Right. Everything will be fine.

Jaehyun does amazing.

Your eyes are trained on him the whole time and his singing has goosebumps pricking your skin. You can see the passion pour through him every time he’s on stage and you couldn’t be more proud.

A nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach points out the undeniable chemistry between him and his co-star, but you push it deep down and suppress it.

They’re actors, and they’re good at what they do.

Yeah. They’re just acting. Yeah. Acting.

When the curtains close, you’re the first to shoot out of your seat, eager to meet him backstage. You weave through the endless crowd of people, murmuring your ‘sorry’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ as you pass by. You reach the base of the backstage and shoot a message to let him know you’re waiting. You hum to yourself when you happen to overhear a conversation playing out.

“You did so good, Jae.”

“No, you definitely carried the show.”

You turn up and you see them. Her eyes are almost soft and loving as she pulls your boyfriend in for a hug. They linger in the embrace longer than necessary and you clear your throat to catch his attention.

He jolts just the slightest bit when he sees you and immediately lets her go.

“Everyone’s waiting,” you say quietly.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let me go get my stuff in the back.”

Jaehyun leaves the two of you alone and you wait for him to get back.

When you leave, he waves goodbye to her and she smiles back.

Jaehyun’s celebration party is rowdy, but it’s to be expected when Johnny is the one hosting.

He books a table at the local club and even orders bottle service. The eight of you work your way through two whole bottles of tequila and are already on your third. Jaehyun is downing the shots at a quicker pace than usual and you’re a bit concerned, but you’re unable to say anything because when you try, he whisks himself away to the dance floor and strikes up a conversation with someone else.

You’re perturbed, but you say nothing. This is his celebration night and he can choose to enjoy it how he wishes.

By the end of the night, Jaehyun is noticeably drunk and you haul him outside to get a breath of fresh air in hopes of sobering up. He’s heavy, but you make it out the side door. You prop him up on your side as you lean on the grimy brick walls.

Months have passed and the weather is chilly.

Jaehyun’s body sways and he murmurs something in your ear. You don’t catch it the first time, the overwhelming smell of tequila overtaking your senses.

“What was that?”

He grumbles beneath his breath, steps staggering once more. He tries again, this time his words are crisp and clear and they cut into you in more ways than one.

“I think we should end it.”

For someone so drunk, he sounds so sober.

You’re at a loss for words. A part of you knew this was coming from his lack of enthusiasm around you and his decreased texts. Even the cold night air couldn’t keep your heartbreak at bay. You say nothing, but you understand the both of you knew it was a silent agreement.

You breathe out wisps of chilled air as Jaehyun’s inebriated body stays slumped over on your side.

You volunteer to take Jaehyun home.

You tuck him gently in bed making sure to prop him on his side in case he vomits during the night. You pour a glass of water and place an ibuprofen on his nightstand drawer for him in the morning.

You kiss him on the forehead one last time. You hope it conveys all of the things brewing in your heart at the moment, but you know it doesn’t.

Later, you leave his apartment with all of your belongings that you ever left there with the stars as your witness.

You never return to his place again.

10. Coffee Shop by B.A.P

what could’ve been.

“So without knowing, like a habit, I came here.”

Jaehyun wakes up to an empty bed.

Morning sunlight streams through his blinds and burns at his skin as a sign to get ready for the day. He blinks the drowsiness from his system and stretches his weary joints before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

On his rare day offs, he allows his body to go on auto-pilot. He completely shuts his brain off and allows it to do whatever it chooses.

Today, it takes him back to the cafe.

His body knows where it’s going before it registers in his mind.

The barista manning the order counter is different, but the decorations are the same, still the same succulents hanging from the ceilings. He mulls over the menu and goes up to order.

“Can I get an iced caramel latte?” Jaehyun doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s feeling nostalgic today.

“Of course! Here’s your total.”

He pays with a swipe of his card and the barista goes to work making his drink. He waits around by the counter and soon enough, his drink is ready. That particular table is empty, so he grabs a chair to sit. His first sip is overly saccharine, but he appreciates how the flavor mellows out by the end of it.

It’s been nearly a year since that night.

Jaehyun remembers waking up to a splitting headache and a dry mouth. He thought nothing of the prepared setup as he gulps the ibuprofen and the glass of water in one go. Nothing seemed amiss really until a few days later.

No one mentioned your name around him and he caught Seulgi giving him a look every now and then. Mark didn’t say much either, but Jaehyun felt him drifting away.

He thought he’d feel a lot more, but he didn’t. One day you were a part of his life and then the next day you weren’t. It really was that simple.

He kept in contact with Joy even after La La Land was over and maybe they were something more, but it didn’t last longer than a few weeks.

It didn’t feel right when he was with her. Again, something felt off, but a different kind of off.

Joy was the one to end things with him, but he didn’t mind too much.

He filled his days with study and practice and it wasn’t until he landed a job at his local theatre company that he realized.

It was you. It was always you and perhaps it still is you.

Maybe you were different. Maybe you were the one, but Jaehyun didn’t try.

He recalls feeling smothered. You were always there at the beginning, but he took that for granted.

There are a lot of things he regrets, but above all, he regrets not talking with you. He regrets not trying to work on it. He regrets being a coward and running away at the first signs of true emotions.

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he, but he should’ve stayed so the both of you could work it out together. Jaehyun always did take too long to find the courage to pursue what he wanted.

With a final sip, he finishes the drink and moves to throw it away. Then, he sees you. Here, in the flesh, in almost a year.

Your hair is longer, but your cheeks are still as rosy as ever. You walk up to order and Jaehyun thinks it’s a sign. He moves to greet you, but the doors open again and in walk Yeri and Seulgi. He watches you greet them warmly with wide open arms.

You always did give the best hugs.

Jaehyun watches the three of you chatter away and he feels acutely out of place in the little cafe. You look happy and he should move on.

He throws his finished cup in the trash can and moves to exit through the side door, but he moves too slowly.

“Jaehyun, is that you?” You call out. He looks into your steady gaze and almost feels shy.

“Yeah,” he’s quiet. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” you agree. “You look well.”

The smile you give him has him believing in second chances and maybe he’ll get it right this time.

Note: i am so sorry that the second part is a hot mess express smh… there were a lot of things i planned and intended that didn’t happen, but i’ll just take this as a learning experience and write and better story next time. thanks for taking the time to read this !! <3

masterlist.

#nctcreations #cznnet #neowritingsnet #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

been a while since i posted a fic update! anyone wanna read some cowboy au nonsense? sure you do! well here it is

The blinding, unforgiving midday heat is enough to raise blisters on the skin. Looking out over a crowd of folks booing him, calling for his demise, probably should have had some kind of emotional impact. On the occasion of one’s death, after all, one does expect tears. Flowers, laid out in lace, dark veils and coal black clothes, a few muffled sobs from those further back in the funerary procession, unable to contain themselves. Instead he’s met with the dusty faces of former neighbors and strangers alike, all eagerly waiting to hear the exact tone and pitch that his neck will make when it snaps.

Bored, he turns his attention from the crowd, and watches a lizard scurry across the wooden planks of the gallows, as a man to his right fits a rough bit of rope around his neck. It scratches, but he doesn’t react, not feeling frightened or even especially interested. A similar rough twine is binding his hands together behind his back, keeping him from having any viable way to save himself. The crowd is calling for blood now. Hangings generally are not gorey affairs, but he did once see a drop too sudden and a rope so long that the fella wasn’t just hung, he was decapitated. Beetlejuice glances back down at the crowd, tries to imagine what direction his head would roll if that happened here, and smirks, because it seems to him the last thing he’d see would be the view from inside the skirts of some of the women standing front and center. Not the worst last sight a man could have. “You think you could hurry this along?” he asks the man fitting the noose around his neck. “Sun’s beatin’ down somethin’ fierce an’ I ain’t got my hat.” His personal possessions are back at the sheriff’s office- hat, bandana, silver plated, pearl handled pistol, and his custom belt buckle, just about the nicest, and maybe only, thing he ever paid for. God damn corrupt lawman’s probably gonna pawn his stuff as soon as he’s swinging. Maybe before. Maybe his last worldly possessions are already gone. S’not like he’ll need them, where he’s goin.

A face he recognizes is led up from the crowd, an ancient wizened body tanned for years by the all too eager sunlight and scorching sands. It’s the local preacher, who he remembers from his formative years. The old man used to give him bread and plain, unseasoned chicken in return for listening to him talk about god, and if he hadn’t been nearly starved to death half the time, he might have spat in the old man’s face. Shouldn't charity be done for the sake of charity, not proselytizing? He’d said so once, and that was the last meal the old miser had given him. Jackass.

“Beetlejuice,” the preacher begins. His name is said with disdain and a curled upper lip. It’s one of the reasons he chose it, honestly. “You still have time to repent, young man. I remember you, as a child, bright eyed, curious about the kingdom of heaven.” Well now, that’s the very definition of taking artist liberty. “Now, here, you have one more chance to repent, to accept god’s mercy, and avoid the lake of fire.” The crowd is watching, waiting to see if he will confess his remorse. Beetlejuice hums, rocks on the balls of his feet, and then sighs. “.. C’mere,” He mumbles, jerking his head to indicate the old man should step closer. The holy man does. “I got a lot to confess to, preacher man, an’ not much time.” His voice is soft. The ailing man can’t hear him, steps closer, if only a little. “So much to confess to, in fact, I oughta just… Skip th’ whole thing an’ go straight to hell!” And Beetlejuice reels back, and then slams his forehead into the old man’s face. The sickeningly satisfying crunch of cartilage tells him he’s broken the preacher’s nose, as the elderly man falls back, crying out in pain, blood gushing from his new wound. The crowd roars, furious, and he grins, and laughs. “Ain’t no good extendin’ your pious pity to me!” he calls, gleeful, as he’s pelted with whatever the people watching can get their hands on, and the old man is helped, taken away, led off of the platform. “Enough, enough, we will have order!” a lawman cries, coming up the gallow steps, to stand in front of the outlaw. It’s enough to get the crowd to settle, or at least stop throwing things. There’s still a bad energy in the air, which Beetlejuice can taste on the tip of his tongue. His smile is rictus, he’s delighted to be the cause of it all.

“This man has been tried and found guilty,” the lawman continues. The trial had been very short, and his incarceration shorter. He understands he’s being made an example of to other outlaws, bandits, and trouble makers. They intentionally didn’t give him any time to plan anything, or for any coconspirators to come and assist him. Joke’s on them. They could have taken all the time in the world. Ain’t nobody alive who cares for this outlaw. Not a soul who would dare to come and stage a rescue. He’s utterly alone. “He’s allowed his last words. Clearly,” the lawman turns, eyes Beetlejuice, who smiles flirtatiously. The other man’s expression shifts from annoyance to disgust. “He’s disavowed the advice of Pastor Neighbors.” “M’not so sure you’re usin’ that word right, friend,” Beetlejuice snorts, but he’s ignored. “Any last words?” the hangman to his right asks, his hand itching to grip the lever that will drop the floor and finally, finally, release the outlaw from the confines of mortal life.

Beetlejuice grins.

“If any of you have a message for th’ devil, give it to me!” he shouts, with a cackle, and he watches in rapt and morbid delight at the way the faces in the crowd twist. “I’ll carry it down to hell for you!” The crowd is furious enough it almost seems to him they’re going to storm the platform, and maybe beat him to death. The wave of gasps from the women folk is particularly amusing.

“Enough of this!” He hears the voice of the lawman, disgusted, and the hangman must agree, because the last thing he hears is the lever being thrown, and the floor gives out under him, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

His ass hits a chair.

There’s a moment of blinded confusion, because he's gone from the unbearable dusty sun of midday California, to a cool, dark, musty smelling interior. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the change. He’s sitting in a room he doesn’t recognize. The chair under him is plush, but just thin seated enough to be a tad uncomfortable. He squirms in it, confused, and finds his hands are still tied behind his back. He turns his head. Seated across from him is a young woman.. Well, little girl might be more accurate, she’s maybe fourteen. There’s a wicked looking hoofprint emblazoned on her right temple. The blood that’s leaking from the wound has gone a sickly old color. They stare at each other. “Did that hurt?” she asks, first, and he squints, because he’d been about to ask the same question. Her hand has gone to her throat, as she looks at him, and he looks down, pressing his fat face into his fat neck to create an unflattering double chin as he does so. He can feel the rope around his neck. He follows the line of it with his eyes, and turns to look up. The rope travels up from him, into the ceiling. It’s still taught, like he’s suspended by it, but his ass is touching chair, his boots are on the ground, and he doesn’t feel choked by it’s presence. He tuts. “Didn’t feel a thing. That hurt?” he tries to gesture to her wound, but again, he’s reminded his hands are bound behind him. She stands. “Hurt a bit, but then I got so dizzy I didn’t hardly feel it, after,” she tells him, and then, like the good little frontierswoman she is, she produces a knife from inside some pocket in the volume of her skirts, and gratefully, he leans forward. She rests a knee on one of the chairs, to get a better angle, as she uses her bowie to cut through the rope at his wrists. “Awful kind of you, half pint,” he tells her, and she smiles. “Ain’t nothin.” She settles into the chair next to him, which is a little surprising, but he doesn’t mind, over all. “You’re an outlaw, then?” she asks. He grunts, and then turns to face her, with a grin. “You probably heard of me. They called me Th’ Ghost, on occasion, cause I could slip away without bein’ caught-” he watches her eyes travel up the line of his noose, and then settle back on his face, a little less impressed than she ought to be. He responds by pinching her nose, and she swats at his hand, and laughs. “I do think I heard of you,” she concedes. “I’m Presley.” “Presley, alright. You got a clue where we are, kiddo?” “I just was told to wait.” “Told by who?”

Across the room, a window he hadn’t registered as being there slides open. This place vaguely resembles a bank, he realizes, and so that means that’s the teller’s window. A woman with a tired expression on a pretty face peers out at him. “Hey, dead beat,” she calls, her accent thick around the words. “Juno wants to see you.” He motions to himself, questioningly. She raises an eyebrow in silent confirmation. “Should I care?” he asks, and her upper lip curls in the most beautiful version of a sneer he’s ever seen. “You’re real funny. Get in there before she loses her temper.” And she reaches up, and slams the window shut.

He looks to Presley, and they both share a little shrug, before he stands, and takes a step. The rope going through the ceiling moves with him, not along any visible track, that he can see, but seeming rather more like a toy balloon on a string, bobbing along as though after a child winding their way through the crowd of a state fair. There’s a door by the teller’s window, and he makes for it, only for the window to slide open again, and that beautiful face to reappear. She looks him over, not seeming particularly impressed, but also not outright cruel. “Where’s your handbook?” she asks. Beetlejuice tilts his head. It lolls a little comically to one side, presumably because his neck is broken. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t bring your handbook?” “Listen, lady, even if I had whatever book you’re talkin about, I couldn’t read it,” he counters, and she pauses, at that. “Illiterate. Of course. What’s even the point of the handbook when so many folks can’t read it?” she mutters to herself, and then she waives him at the door, the conversation apparently over. Alright.

The door, predictably, leads to a hallway, a bit unlike anything he’s ever seen before, in terms of sheer length of the thing. It twists around like a snake, and the number of doors along the hall leads him to believe wherever he is, it’s massive. The hallway is empty, save for a man at the far end, mopping, and there doesn’t seem to be anything around for him to tuck into his pockets. Too bad, he mopes, as he carries himself down the hall, boots clacking in a way he finds tactile and pleasant. He passes the custodian, who stares at the floor behind him and sighs, and Beetlejuice looks back to see a mess of dusty footprints he’s left on a previously slightly damp but otherwise pristine floor. With a snort, he spits into the bucket of mop water, and the other man jumps back, disgusted, as Beetlejuice cackles, and continues his leisurely walk down the hall.

At a certain point he realizes he’s got no idea where he’s going, but it doesn’t especially matter. Wherever he is now, whatever version of the afterlife this is, because clearly, that’s what this is, it doesn’t seem to be fire and brimstone and all that bullshit, so he takes it easy, opening doors at random and peeking through. The things he sees don’t always make sense to him, feel like they’re out of place from the world as he knows it. He opens one door, and suddenly he’s staring at what must be a city, but the buildings are so tall they’re touching the sky, going up past the clouds, up into the heaven he doesn’t believe can really be up there. The people are dressed strangely, men and women wandering around in little more than underclothes, which he likes, instantly, and the streets are black with painted yellow lines, instead of dust and earth. Some kind of metal.. Something, a trolley without a track, moves on it’s own down the street, and he catches a glimpse of faces inside. He gets lost in the contents of this door, staring for a long time, entranced, and then it’s slammed suddenly. He turns, catches sight of the custodian with his hand on the door, and growls, an animalistic sound he didn’t know he could do. And then he stops, and turns to look, because the custodian is still a ways behind him, mopping with spit water. It’s the same man. “You don’t need to go poking your snout into places it doesn’t belong,” the man says, simply, and then in a blink, both versions of him are gone from the hallway. Maybe that’s just an… afterlife thing.

He reaches, after what feels like a boring and dragging eternity of twenty whole minutes, a set of saloon doors, the swinging kind. There’s a void of blackness behind them, but the draw he feels is unmistakable, and he pushes them open, and walks through. Instead of a room black as ink, he finds himself… standing on the wooden porch of a bar he remembers frequenting fairly often, in his younger days. At least, he has clear memories of walking into the bar. How and when and why he ended up outside of it, well… whiskey has a hell of an effect on a man’s memory. It’s a fairly chilly desert night. The chirping of crickets and the long ways away lonely baying of a dog is a sort of familiar comfort, but god damn it, he’s just left this world. He wasn’t intending on coming back to it, ever. The dusty streets are dim, illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and the few lamps still burning in windows. The town is quiet.

On the dirt road in front of him is a woman, staring at him. She’s small, older, nicely dressed, with hair shorter than he’s ever seen on a lady, and a mouth sort of like a toad, long and downturned. There’s an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She’s watching him, curious and apathetic all at once. He returns the look. “Juno, then?” he grunts, stepping off the porch. No dust lifts when his boots hit the unpaved road, which he notes. Maybe he’s not really here. Maybe he’s a ghost. Fitting.

“Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth,” she says, as he comes to stand in front of her. “Took you long enough. You realize I’ve been waiting here for days. You get lost, or something?” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolmarm with too much on her hands and not enough energy for it all. He feels a little sheepish, if only because no, he hadn’t realized that. “Gimme a break,” he says, instead of an apology. “I just died.” “Like that makes you special,” she huffs, and then, waving her unlit cigarette in his face, machine rolled, not hand, he notes, she asks, “Have you got a match?” He produces one from one of the many pockets of his moss green duster, strikes it on his thumb, and holds it up for her. She has the decency to look grateful, as she leans in, cigarette to her lips, and lights it from that little flame. “So,” she exhales smoke, and it curls from the corner of her lips, and out a previously unspotted slash to her throat. No wondering how she died, then. Speaking of, he glances up, to see that his noose is no longer floating above his head, and turning, he catches sight of it dragging on the ground behind him, long and snake-like in the way it’s twisted and coiled. Juno snaps her long red nails in his face, brings his attention back to her. “You weren’t supposed to die, you know. You’ve mucked things up for me.” “Whut?” he grunts, a bit thrown. She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to go in your seventies. Catch tuberculosis and wither away in obscurity. How old are you?” “Thirty four, or abouts,” he croaks, and she takes another drag. “You let yourself be caught,” she accuses. Well.. yeah. But how the hell does she know that? “I got pinned down in a shootout. Lucky they didn’t blow my head off, right then.” “You’ve gotten out of worse.” She looks almost.. Disappointed. “And then you put down your weapons, instead of fighting it out.” “I was surrounded.” “You were sloppy.” “What’s it to you, anyway?” he growls, again low and animalistic, which Juno ignores, as she walks circles around him, studying him. “You let yourself be caught, and you let yourself be hung. You didn’t even try to get away. You might not have killed yourself, but you let them kill you, for you,” she says. “And it’s giving me a hell of a time, both because it’s changed you, and because I have to put you somewhere, Beetlejuice, and now no one knows where you should go.” “So what does that mean?” “It means, my little statistical outlier, that you’re going to be staying up here, probably a lot broader a time than it would have taken you to just live your life and die at seventy,” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Which is a shame. Because.. I was looking forward to.. To you. And now we both have to wait longer,” and here, she finishes her circle of him, to stand face to face with him again, and she flicks his ear, the way he always imagined an frustrated mother might. “Because you gave up. You weren’t supposed to give up.” “Wasn't much worth livin’ for,” he says, and it’s got more emotion behind it than he meant to give it. Juno’s hand goes to her throat, and she looks pained. “I guess that’s an inherited trait,” her voice is soft, and he squints at her, confused. Instead of giving him any context for that, she points down the dusty main road. Shining under the moonlight, he can see, vaguely, a dark shape suspended in air, near the gallows. “Go put your suit back on,” she says dryly. “And try not to cause enough trouble that I have to come up here and get after you, understood?” “What part of outlaw ain’t you gettin?” he snorts, and she responds by giving him an affectionate pat to his scruffy cheek, before she takes another drag, and vanishes inside the swirling smoke. He’s left standing on his own.

His “suit” is still hanging, he notes, looking up at himself. He’s strung up on a tall pole by the platform, leaving it free for more use, if need be, with his body on display as a gruesome reminder for potential criminals that this is a hanging town, and they’ve even hung their most despised son. His neck is bent at an ugly angle, a little bulge at the side betraying how exactly his bones had shattered, and his skin has gone a bad color, gray and foul looking. But aside from that, he’s not rotted the way he would think he ought to be. Juno’d said she’d been waiting for days, presumably meaning it has been days since his death, but his body is looking remarkably unbuzzard pecked and unrotted. He shimmies up the pole he’s hung from, his ghostly noose trailing behind him, and the moment he touches his own boot, the world spins, going upside down and inside out in a way that’s too painful to try and perceive.

“Gahh-” says Beetlejuice, because he’s back in his body, which is still being hung by that god damn noose, and he realizes, annoyed, that he has no way of cutting himself down. He kicks, pointlessly, one hand going to the rope at his neck, to clutch it and try to keep it from choking himself again, and the other grabbing at the rope further up, gripping it to pull himself up, give himself some slack, instead of hanging taught. It’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been. At least there’s no one around to watch him struggle.

“Holy shit, the body’s movin!” he hears someone holler. Oh, come on.

Read the rest, right over HERE

#beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fic #beetlelands fic #my writing #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #this is so self indulgent #i love westerns so this is all i can focus on rn

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sea-and-storm · 3 years

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BETTER WITH AGE : Ghoa Mankhad

PROMPT : Describe your muse at ages 20, 40, and 60!

Tagged by @afreesworn, so blame her for this rambly bit of quasi-prose because when I saw this meme, it decided to live stubbornly rent-free in my head until I finally sat down and wrote it out. But it's late and I'm rusty, so excuse the inevitable clunky writing and weird stream-of-consciousness rambling. x:

Also I haven't been on tumblr in a hot minute and I'm probably gonna go on a meme spree here soon so I'll spare people from a tagfest since I have no idea who has or hasn't done these. :T

So uh, if you see this and wanna do it, just.. consider yourself tagged!

-- AGE 20 . . .

At age twenty, Ghoa is only just gaining her first true taste of freedom. It hasn't been long since she left the Steppe behind, fleeing a life of violence and oppression at the mercy of others' cruel whims.

Kugane is still very much a foreign land to her, equal parts terrifying and intoxicating. It is a city whose lifeblood is the trading of koban, unlike the bartering and trading -- and the taking by force -- that is prevalent in the lands she calls -- no, called her home.

Even more awkward to her is the earning of coin; but for that problem, there is an unexpected solution. Her name is Ino, a hyuran native of the land Ghoa now finds herself in. The only things that come more easily to her than her usual cocksure grins are the coins that she seems to have a knack for getting her fingers on. She readily takes the wayward Xaela under her wing, and together they begin to dream of schemes to turn their lives around. Gods know they both deserve it after the difficulties they've both already lived through.

At twenty, Ghoa doesn't yet know that this relationship born of mutual survival will soon grow into something more. Friendship. Companionship. Love. She's even less aware that the same relationship that pulled her up from the darkness of the past will end in yet more tragedy. She's blissfully unaware of the scars that this loss will one day leave behind, an invisible guilt that would linger with her for many, many long years to come no matter how hard she tries to outrun it.

As for the Storm? There have certainly been times in her twenty years that she has felt the itch of electricity arc across her palms, aching to be released. Yet she has kept it pushed deep down, kept tightly under control. Her upbringing has led her to fear the power born to her. Rather than continue to train to control it, she opts instead to push it down, push it away. It rumbles like darkened clouds on a distant horizon, the occasional faint but harmless rumble of thunder carried upon the winds. That rumble begs for her to let it loose, to let the rains and winds and lightning break free around her. Instead, she turns a blind eye, pretending not to hear its pleading as she looks towards what she hopes to be a sunny future.

-- AGE 40 . . .

At age forty, Ghoa has gone through a gamut of changes that she never could have anticipated.

She has loved and lost, and she has blamed herself for it. She's roamed far and wide, half searching for a place that she might call 'home' and half attempting -- without success -- to outrun the ghosts of the past. Her life has turned towards the dark, towards the selling of illicit potions and dangerous poisons and the ever-profitable trade of secrets. She has become a creature of hedonism and selfishness, closing her heart towards those around her and putting her own needs and whims above all else. She has finally learned what it seems her earlier years had perhaps been trying to teach her all along: that the joys of the world belong only to those strong enough and clever enough to climb upon the backs of others to grasp them. And she has vowed never to let another climb upon her in their own pursuit ever again.

It would have been easy for her to continue down this path, to continue down it until nigh impossible to turn back. Yet within these twenty years, chance has once again placed someone in her path that would radically change her life's trajectory. Rather, she met several someones. She calls them friend, lover, kin.. but most of all, at age forty, she calls them family. Blood or not, she has come to share a deep and profound bond with each of them.

Through them and their various trials and tribulations, she has come to see that she was wrong. Joy is not the sole providence of those who seize it by force of will. It belongs to those whose backs have been tred upon, yet still rise up from the darkness -- often with one another's help -- time and again. It belongs to those who refuse to give into despair and anger and bitterness, no matter how tempting. It belongs to those who are strong enough to allow themselves to be vulnerable and feel, rather than closing themselves off to everything and everyone around them.

At age forty, Ghoa can say without hesitancy or reservation that she is surrounded by those she cares for and whom care for her in turn. In coming to love them, she's come to love herself. Most of all, she has learned that her 'home' is not a physical place. It exists at a table full of drinks and raucous laughter. It exists in a conversation first awkward and quickly turned warm from a man who is at once unknown and yet achingly familiar to her. It exists wrapped in strong arms, even as tears well in her eyes and her clutching fingers are reluctant to ever let go.

Home is where she can be with those she loves, and perhaps that yet undiscovered realization is why Ghoa has been so very restless her entire life.

These past twenty years have yielded to her one more life-altering realization: that she can no sooner deny the Storm within her than she can deny her very self. It runs in her blood, electrifies her soul. Suppressing it is suppressing herself and, after all, had Ghoa not long ago vowed never to allow herself to be suppressed again?

Though the reunion has been long in the making, Ghpa's bond with the Storm feels like catching up with a long lost friend. At times, it is awkward and uncomfortable and even explosive. Others, they are in perfect harmony with one another. Regardless, Ghoa no longer winces at the rumbling skies as they approach, but looks instead with eagerness as the wind and rain begin to whip around her. Her breath hitches in excitement with each flash of lightning and roaring peal of thunder. They're discovering each other all over again after so long apart, and it will take time.. But it is a start that Ghoa has eagerly made.

-- AGE 60 . . .

At age sixty, Ghoa has begun to show the ravages of time. Her hair, once the color of breaking waves, has darkened and faded in vibrancy over the years. Lines have begun to form at her eyes and at the edges of her smile; their initial coming, of course, much to her dismay. Yet for what she has traded in youthful beauty, she's gained in poise. There's a certain air she keeps, a wisdom and a knowing sense that has come from a long life full of the lowest lows and the highest highs, from a life lived well and to its fullest.

She looks back now on the past six decades and sees all the past versions of herself with renewed clarity and understanding. The scared young woman just trying to survive the cruel hand dealt to her. The one who at one turn felt hope and love for the first time, and then just as quickly replaced both with guilt and self-loathing. The woman who convinced herself that she was better off putting herself above all others, caring not for who she hurt in the process. And yet, there is also the woman who found herself caring so much for those around her that she would fling herself into the face of danger to protect them at a moment's notice.

Ghoa looks back on these women now and realizes there was no one single point at which she became herself. She is the sum of all the parts of her life, both bitter and sweet. Even the worst moments of her life, she realizes now, eventually lead to change -- growth -- within herself. Though.. perhaps not in a linear fashion, as Ghoa was ever wont to stumble along the way. But with that realization now comes acceptance, peace, and healing. For the first time, she is able to look back at her years without picking out all the parts she wishes she could change.

Now at sixty, Ghoa has likely lost some of those she cares for along the way, gone but never forgotten nor less loved. Yet as always, the Storm within remains her most constant companion. Gone are the days where she fears its power or it roars out of her grasp unbidden. There is a mutual respect and understanding between them, and with that comes a power she never knew.

Once as a girl, Ghoa watched as Elder Unegen called lightning down from the sky upon herself and walked away not only whole, but embraced by arcing jolts of electricity curling protectively around her until she released them back unto the sky. She doubted back then that she could ever be so powerful. Yet now, Ghoa has not only performed the same feat, but she has done so in front of the next generation of Stormcallers. She will fill them with awe at what is possible, and she will guide them with a gentle but firm hand as any Elder Stormcaller aught now that she has come full circle and returned to the very tribe in which her long story began.

#ghoa mankhad #restless seas #HOO BOY IM RUSTY WITH WRITING #i should have went back and edited but #it's almost midnight #yolo or smth #ffxiv rp #balmung #crystal rp

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years

Note

PORNSTAR!HARRY WITH THE NEW BEARD (me? wet)

“What d’you think, then?”

Harry scratches absentmindedly at the thick stubble covering the lower half of his face, the coarse, light brown hairs heavily dusting his upper lip and haloing around his mouth and chin.

His eyebrows perk up at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her response as he sits across from her in the break room, laid out on the sofa with his head mounted against the elbowrest. His arms tighten around the maroon velvet cushion he’s hugging to his chest, a certain anxiousness jittering in his veins. He doesn’t know why her opinion matters to him or why the suspense is tearing his stomach to shreds, but it does and he can’t stop it and it’s fucking annoying, to say the least.

In his line of work, Harry had learned not to make severe emotional attachments to his partners. A platonic relationship is fine— he tended to naturally attract people without much effort and he thrives in social settings; friendships were bound to form— and a casual “friends with benefits” type of arrangement isn’t off the table, either. However, the industry had hardened him into being the kind of person who doesn’t care what others think of him. He never put much thought into people’s mundane concerns towards him (like whether his new beard was attractive or not) unless he had started to develop deeper connections, which then leads to him harvesting feelings, which in turn causes him to act like a complete lovesick moron and usually topples him into an actual solid dating situation. And if there’s anything Harry has painstakingly learned through multiple trials and errors is that being an adult entertainer while simultaneously engaging in a serious relationship never mixes well.

Yet here he is, waiting for their assigned filming room to be ready so they can go in and shoot a scene for a new video. Here he is, playing with a loose seam thread on the couch pillow, tugging at it nervously to give himself something to focus on other than the silence suffocating the room— a silence he himself had instilled by asking such a random, pointed question. Here he is, with sparks firing off in the pit of his tummy as the leg hanging off the side of the sofa bounces restlessly on his heel, toes curling in his pastel yellow Vans. He hasn’t felt this like this in so long he thinks he might vomit right onto the coffee table.

Y/N is extended across the loveseat opposite his, her legs draped over the armrest, knees bent and feet swaying back and forth distractedly. Her hands are cradled against her stomach, fingers sifted together as she taps at her knuckles, head snuggled into a throw pillow identical to his.

She had snapped her head to the side at his sudden question, surprised by the low thrum of his voice reaching across the still air since she thought he had fallen into a nap.

She’d run into him earlier as he had hurried inside the building, Nike gym bag slung over his shoulder and thudding against his hip as he made a beeline for his dressing room, itching for a shower. She figured that after exerting himself with a heavy workout and washing away the tension in his muscles with warm water, he’d probably want to get some sleep in before their shoot in order he to be at the top of his game. But evidently, Harry is wide awake, staring at her over the glass table between their makeshift beds, eyebrows raised in curiosity at her thoughts on the facial hair he’s sporting.

Y/N stares at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in this never before seen appearance.

She’d been working for this company for just over two months now and she had never seen Harry with more than just a light bit of stubble. One can imagine her shock when he had waltzed in with a decently thick bushel covering half his face. She almost didn’t recognize him, being so used to his clean, boyish face rather than a hairy, full-fledged man. She hadn’t quite processed the change since their fleeting interaction prior to his bath, but apparently her take on it interested him and for some unknown reason, that notion makes her cheeks sizzle.

The response she blurts out makes her wish she could implode on command.

“You kinda look like Paul Bunyan.”

Harry blinks at her blankly exactly three times, shifting upwards higher against the armrest and cocking his head to the side in awed confusion. “Pardon?”

Y/N parts her lips to speak but her brain can’t seem to find a way to justify the idiotic, nerve-induced comment she’d just made. After a moment of charged silence, she splutters out a semi-acceptable explanation.

“Y’know, Paul Bunyan. The lumberjack guy? With the blue ox?”

Harry continues to stare at her, emerald irises twinkling with a mystified haze and eyebrows scrunched down in bewilderment.

She swallows quickly, feeling heat crawl up the sides of her neck. “He’s this folklore legend that they use to tell us about back in grade school. Disney even made a cute little short film about him.”

He blinks at her again, not sure how to react to her response since he has no fucking clue what she’s going on about. All he knows is that he wants to calm the ragging in his belly and possibly ebb some type of compliment out of her to tide over the craving for her approval.

He takes a wild stab and hopes for the best.

“So he’s a lumberjack, yeah? That must mean he was ripped. Was he hot?”

Y/N bursts into a round of easy laughter, feeling all the tension wash out of her in a huge wave of relief. Leave it to Harry to be a total dolt at the perfect time.

“Yeah, he was, actually. I used to have a crush on him, despite the fact that he was a literal cartoon.”

Harry’s lips break into a cheeky, satisfied grin, his dimples pinching into place. He sits forward, dropping the couch cushion into his lap and leaning back onto the palms of his hands, head lulling on his shoulder as one of his knees bends upwards to rest his heel at the edge of the sofa. He gives his brows a cocky shrug, well aware of how her gaze momentarily flickers to ogle at his widely parted thighs. He’d made the right call to wear his Adidas joggers, the thin polyester material obviously strained by what resides between his legs.

“Guess that means you have a crush on me now, too. By association.”

Y/N’s glazed eyes dart back up to his face and she tries to cover up her little escapade by snorting humorously, shaking her head lightly in amusement. “He was a bit taller than you, though. Makes him sexier.”

His voice comes out slathered with fake pained insult. “That’s no fair, I can’t even control that! How tall was he? Bet I could take him.”

She bites into her lower lip, a small playful grin peeking around her teeth at the ensuing banter. “Well, according to the myth, he’s seven feet tall.”

Harry scoffs dismissively, swinging an arm forward and settling his wrist over his bent knee, hand turning palm upwards for emphasis. “I can take him, no problem. A foot is nothing.”

Y/N props her chin onto her shoulder, maintaining her comfortable position stretched out across the couch, her back supported by the armrest. She sucks at her teeth in disagreement, pursing her lips with exaggerated contemplation. “I dunno, H. A foot is more than you think. What are you gonna do, jump on his back?”

He points at her warningly with his index finger, tone adamant. “I just fucking might!”

She releases another fit of bubbly giggles, cupping her tummy instinctively and for some reason that simple, unintentionally adorable action makes Harry’s pulse flutter in his temples.

He remains quiet for a bundle of heartbeats, just admiring the way her entire face glows when she smiles. He loves how bright she is— how lively and tender and easy-going. Her personality always shines through, no matter the instance. Whether it’s at a restaurant with their friend group, or at a get together at someone’s house, or when they’re sitting in the break room having a random, silly chat, or when he's balls-deep inside her with cameras trained on their every movement and there’s people watching every brush of their swollen lips, every caress of their heated skin, and every desperate plead whimpered onto eager tongues — no matter the tone and texture of the situation, she’s always the most blinding factor in the room. She’s just so golden.

“So you really think I can’t take this Bunyan bloke?” Harry inquires with a joking edge, his two front teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth to keep himself from grinning like an enamored fool.

“He’s a pretty big guy.” Y/N quips matter-of-factly, giving her shoulders a gentle shrug.

The edges of his lips twitch into a sly smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty big, too...and you can attest to that.”

Even from across the room, he can see the way her whole body tightens at his lascivious dig. Her fingers halt the tapping on her knuckles and her eyes can’t seem to break free from his coy gaze, air struggling to expand her lungs.

Harry somehow always manages to make her speechless and she wishes he didn’t have that hold over her. They’re friends and coworkers; this influence on her could end in a real mess if she isn’t careful and the gig she has here at the company is too good to risk it. The porn industry is littered with producers that exploit their workers and women are more susceptible to this abuse than men, but somehow amidst the pile of shitty businesses, she had managed to book a permanent spot at a facility that treats their workers with the respect and dignity they deserve. Harry had been working here way longer than she had— he’d been here before she even knew the company existed. If things went downhill, she would have to be the one to leave.

Technicalities aside, Y/N’s worst fear is ruining her relationship with Harry. He had been the person that had comfortably eased her into the whole world of sexual entertainment and she would forever be thankful to him for making her experience smooth and seamless. They’d developed a decent friendship along the way, their personalities clicking together perfectly from the second they had been introduced, their chemistry practically palpable. Harry had been her partner in almost all of her videos— save a handful she had done with other stars as a way of testing the waters and branching out— and had introduced her to all of the friends she had made here. He’d shot with her for her first ever video in this profession and helped welcome her into something she had been extremely terrified to try. She cherishes him beyond words, which is why the idea of allowing some harmless flirting to grow into something with the potential to end in disaster outright ices her blood.

What she hates the most is that such a simple cocky comment had sent her into a midlife crisis.

She anchors herself back into reality, clearing her throat softly as her lashes flutter. “You’re a moron.”

Harry cracks a self-assured simper, messing with the chunky rings of the hand hanging off his knee. “You’re not denying it, though.”

Y/N huffs offhandedly, finally breaking the intense eye contact he’d pinned onto her, glossy eyes zoning in on tracing the checkered pattern of her worn sneakers. “Your dick is obviously big or else you wouldn’t have a job here.”

The deadpan bluntness behind her tone sends Harry into a round of boyish snickering. “I know, but I just love hearing you say it. Strokes my ego like nothing else.”

Y/N picks at one of the tears of her cosmetically tattered jeans, a strangely contented smile threatening to string across her lips at the idea of him enjoying the way she specifically praises him. “And we both know how much you love having things stroked, now don’t we?”

Harry bites into the inside of his cheek, humming in agreement deep in the back of his throat. He absolutely adores the way she can go toe to toe with his vulgarity. “Touché. Although, if I recall correctly, you never seem to have any complaints about being the one doing it.”

“S’part of the job.”

“I’m pretty sure your kitchen isn’t one of the designated filming rooms.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches as she feels Harry’s delighted condescending stare boring into the side of her face. He swings his arms out from behind him, slumping into the backrest of the couch, flexing forearms settling across the light blue fabric of the vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt stretching over his broad chest. The foot resting on the ground braces itself onto the edge of the coffee table, the one on the couch shifting some, his thighs parting open even wider. She has to resist the urge to look, having to make due with the blurry image registering from her peripheral vision. Even out of focus, he looks incredible.

“D’you know what we’re shooting today?”

The change in topic gifts her the chance to recuperate and regroup; work talk is a sanctuary she is more than happy to inhabit.

Y/N cranes her neck to look over at Harry, refusing the impulse to check him out in his new, much more revealing position, meeting his eyes with an indifferent attitude that hides how buzzed he truly has her. “It’s something for a series you’re doing on your channel, right?”

Harry bobs his head in an easy nod, thumbing over the inside of his right elbow— a mindless mannerism. His lips twitch into a goofy grin. “Wanna know what I named it?”

“Something dumb, probably.”

“How Many Licks Does It Take To Make a Cherry Pop?”

Y/N sighs heavily through her nose. “Expected no less. It’s a bit long, though, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little but the Wow Factor outsells.”

“Whatever you say.” Y/N checks the time on her phone, slipping it back into her rear jean pocket. They’d been sitting here waiting for their call for almost fifteen minutes now. “So from the looks of it, it’s mainly based around eating girls out?”

Harry scratches at the back of his neck casually, playing with the ringlets that curl along the nape of his neck. “Mmhm. Just thirty minutes of me making you cum as many times as I can with my tongue.”

The shells of Y/N’s ears burn. “Sounds like a dream. I’m getting paid just to lay there and I won’t even have to take off all my clothes.”

“Good karma, I suppose.” Harry glances impatiently towards the door of the break room, eager to get started. He doesn’t really know why, but he’s just gained an abrupt hunger to be nose deep between her thighs right this second. “Although, do you think you can pull your shirt up? Y’know how much I love a good view and you just look so fucking good in lace.”

She kinks an eyebrow up in mild shock at his accurate statement, pushing down the way his admiration makes her pulse skip a beat. “How did you know I was wearing lace?”

His tongue sweeps over the front of his teeth teasingly, Cupid’s Bow curving with a hint of perceptive glee. “Because you know it makes my balls ache.”

Y/N’s thighs unintentionally clasp together at his crudeness and she decides to put his insight to the test. “What color am I wearing, then?”

Harry sits forward, interest elating his limbs, forearms flushing against his thighs as he twiddles his thumbs between his separated knees. He takes a second to think it through, tilting his chin up slightly with a confident air. “Pastel peach.”

Her hands slap down against her tummy, the action tainted with disbelieving outrage. “How’d you know?!”

He chews on his bottom lip pensively as if carefully sewing his words together. “Because I complimented you the last time you wore it.”

A rush of white hot energy surges through Y/N’s entire nervous system. “Didn’t think you’d remember since you always compliment everyone.”

Harry shakes his head gently, twisting a metal rose ring around his middle finger. “Always remember you.”

An electrified silence falls between them, zizzing every molecule in the chilled air.

Y/N is well aware of the large number of people Harry’s been with and she had always assumed she would melt into the masses without much of a second thought. But here he was, telling her that she stood out to him enough that he could vividly recall the little odds and ends of flattery he gave her. It probably wasn’t much of anything and he was just being his polite, courteous self, but it made her stomach somersault nonetheless.

Her lips part open as if to speak, but her vocal chords can’t seem to find the pitch of her voice. She just lays there with her mouth agape for a second or so, fishing for a response that her brain has yet to conjure. Harry waits in anticipation, wanting to know her thoughts on small but meaningful confession.

Y/N is saved by a collection of swift hard knocks to the door of the room.

The knob turns and the door cracks open, a familiar face peeking in, bare chest covered in a sheen of short, disheveled hair and a complimentary company robe. Niall— a mutual friend and fellow entertainer— throws up a relaxed wave, icy blue eyes lighting up with the effortless jolliness he’s so well known for.

His voice filters through the heavy atmosphere, his thick Irish accent cutting the tension like a knife. “Oi, Jeff told me to come get you. Room’s set up.”

Harry licks over his lips absently, keeping his muted olive irises glued to Y/N for an extra heartbeat before breaking away, forcing an easy smile for Niall’s sake and matching it with banter. “Couldn’t come get us himself? Lazy prick.”

The sky-eyed young man shrugs his shoulders sloppily, his exorbitant laughter bouncing off the walls. “Was headed for my dressing room to clean up and you guys happened to be a pit stop on the way so it wasn’t much trouble.”

Harry pushes himself onto his feet, stretching out his back and twisting his torso from side to side. “S’about time, too. Been sitting here so long I thought my bones were gonna cement.”

Niall whistles sympathetically. “That’d be real shit for business.”

The British boy sputters into his next sentence with a flurry of giggles. “Fuck off.”

Y/N speaks up for the first time since before Niall burst in. “Jeff would basically lose all his income. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘World renowned adult entertainer Harry Styles hospitalized, leaving mother company in shambles!’”

“A right Shakespearean tragedy, that is.” Their blonde friend cackles, the suspicious bite marks on his lower lip tinting darker as his skin stretches.

“Lucky for me, I already have experience with Shakespearean tragedies.” Harry quips proudly, walking towards the exit and standing beside Niall with his arms crossed over his stomach nonchalantly.

The fellow pornstar scowls jestingly, reaching forward and tugging at the corner of Harry’s mustache. “Romeo and Juliets: The Four-Crossed Lovers doesn’t count, Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever.” Harry snaps in return, slapping Niall’s fingers out of his facial hair and smothering him with the palm of his hand, shoving the boy out the door. “Go clean the jizz off yourself.”

“Go clean the jizz off yourself.” The shorter man mimics mockingly, backing away from the door with both of his middle fingers prevalent.

Once Niall’s gone, Harry glimpses back at Y/N over his shoulder, coughing awkwardly. “So I guess I’ll see you in there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She gives him a timid, watery smile, barely nodding her head.

“Alright. Show time, Peach Lace.”

The joking nickname eases the pressure of the situation to a bearable level. She repeats his phrase in agreement, shrugging her brows as cool and collected as her churning tummy will allow. “Show time.”

Harry’s messy quiff of curls disappears down the corridor that leads to their designated room and Y/N can properly gulp down air for the first time since he asked her what she thought about his beard.

It’s then that she realizes she never really answered his question directly, but she gets the feeling that he knows where her opinion lies.

#pornstar!harry #drabble

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un-beel-ievable · 4 years

Text

The colour of heartbreak - (Ace Trappola | Twisted Friends EBG FINALE)

Author’s note: Please do not repost!! If you like my writing, please leave a like and a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

EBG is over! Achievement get! :D Congratulations to everyone who earned bragging rights! (I’m one of them :D)

This is my final self insert piece written for EBG! You can view my original EBG (extreme bias game) starter post here!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Navigating the hedge maze that surrounded the Heartslabyul dormitories had once been an impossible task; she recalls a time when she had gotten so hopelessly lost amongst the —seemingly— never ending flora that she began to seriously consider living out the rest of her miserable existence amongst the rose bushes. Roaming its walls was as easy as breathing now, as easy as knowing the words to her favourite song. It took several months of trial and error and several similar mishaps, but she had finally committed the layout of the maze to memory.

She tiptoes to swipe at the low hanging branch of a cherry tree, and concedes that having someone to guide her probably helped. Even though her guide was as irritating as an itch she couldn’t scratch, and was currently snatching the cherries that she had just plucked for himself. Cries of protest ring in the air, disrupting the serenity that had been prevalent just a moment prior. But her companion doesn’t seem to care. He merely laughs, and sticks his tongue out at her before popping a cherry in his mouth.

Ace Trappola had and always would be a menace. (But a cute one. Annoyingly so; the shit-eating grin that he’s shooting her may have designed to taunt her, but she can’t help but melt a little under that smile.)

Biting back a huff of annoyance, she resists the urge to stamp her foot as he dangles the rest of the fruit over her head. “Were you raised in a barn, Trappola? You know that food is supposed to go in your mouth and not on it, right?”

She tugs at the sleeve of her blazer. Pulling it over the palm of her hand, she uses it to dab at the juice that stains the corners of his lips. She half expects to become the instant target of Ace’s ridicule, and braces herself for him to make fun of her for behaving as though she were his mother. But the jeers that she’s come to expect from him never reach her ears. Ace seems to freeze under her touch, staring down at her with a deer in the headlights expression that she isn’t used to seeing on Heartslabyul’s resident troublemaker. It’s amusing and somewhat adorable to see him in such a state, and a part of her is tempted to tease him for that slack-jawed look that he’s directing her. But when she opens her mouth, the words stick in her throat.

Her heart skips a beat. Ace Trappola has the most amazing eyes. Who knew? They’re the same reddish hue as the fruit that still dangles from his fingertips but...better, somehow. Brighter. She’d always associated the colour red with anger, with pain —with bloodshed and the callous flames that burn endlessly in depths of hell. Red was hatred; red was the stinging of skin that followed a raised hand. Red was the self loathing that echoed in her mind whenever she met her own gaze in the mirror, the disgust and disappointment directed at herself that seeped through the pores of her skin and hung in the air in dark, heavy clouds. Red was the hot tears that came with knowledge that the fleeting happiness that she had gotten a taste of was no longer hers. Red was the colour of heartbreak.

Had she been mistaken?

She feels compared to lean in, to close the gap that separates them —even if it’s only by the slightest, most miniscule amount. Ace must have had the same idea, however, for a second later his lips are crashing against her own.

Ace’s lips are warm and taste of cherries. Those are the only things that she manages to register before she snaps to attention. The fog that’s clouded her mind over the last couple of days lifts, and she reels backwards from the kiss so quickly and with such force that she nearly sends herself sprawling. The only thing keeping her from cracking her skull open is the arm that Ace has wound around her waist. Her brow furrows. “Uh, Trappola? What the fuck are you doing?”

Hurt and confusion flicker across Ace’s facial features, but as he scans her expression for a clue on what had just happened, he seems to come to the realisation that she wasn’t just toying with his heart or playing him for a fool; the girl seemed to have genuinely no recollection whatsoever of the kiss that they had just shared, let alone the affection that she had been displaying for him over the last couple of days. To his credit, he recovers quickly —dredging up his usual mischievous smirk from goodness knows where and pinning it carefully into place to hide his disappointment from his companion. “Oh, I just wanted to see if I could steal you away from Leona-senpai.”

“Trappola!”

She swats irritably at his chest, and he laughs at the scowl that she shoots his way. It’s a hollow sound, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “You wish, Trappola —I’m not leaving him for you. Not in a million years. Look, I’m gonna go look for him now. I’ll see you around.”

A beat passes before Ace realises that she’s waiting impatiently for him to release her from his embrace. His arm falls limply to his side, and his gaze follows her as she heads towards the exit of the maze. Every step she takes leads her further and further away from him, and he pleads silently for her to turn around and return to his side. He can feel his heart splintering into a billion tiny fragments; all he wants is for her to hold him in her arms one final time.

By the time that it finally hits him that she isn’t coming back, her silhouette has long since faded into the distance, and the horizon is streaked with red.

#non obey me #twisted wonderland #twisted friends EBG #ace trappola #angst #extreme bias game

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dwaynepride · 5 years

Text

Today Or Yesterday

CHAPTER 4

Summary: The reader’s injuries are much more bothersome than just some pain and annoying bandages. And Dwayne’s arrival in DC leaves a lot to be desired.

Words: 3,280

Warnings: None

Notes: so close to the finale.... :eyes:

Part 3 Part 5

The low throb of the wound in your thigh never went away. Not really. Even after staying off it for a whole day and a half with morphine to dull the ache, it was still there. Ever present, as if the bulky bandages would let you forget. Bandages that itched like crazy, and you couldn’t even fit one of the hospitals plastic forks underneath them to scratch it. One of the nurses scolded you for using the fork, but it’s not like you were gonna use it to eat the hospital’s gross food.

And Gibbs was finally done with your bitching. He was present the entire time, just like he promised. But when you insisted on getting out of the hospital a day early, he didn’t fight you on it. Just nodded and left the room and started filling out the discharge paperwork.

With him finally gone, you were able to slowly get dressed (Abby brought you some clothes from the hotel. You didn’t ask how she got in.) ‘Slowly’ being the key word, because the simple task of pulling on your pants and shoes was nearly impossible with the injured leg. Every stretch and bend seemed to make the wound worse, and you won’t admit to anyone else that you let out one or two whimpers in that time.

But, in the end, you were successfully dressed from the waist down. The white button-up would be easy enough, since it didn’t involve your leg. Once you pulled it on and started fastening the buttons, that’s when a light knock on your door had you looking over your shoulder. “Come in,” you call out before returning attention to the buttons.

“You’re set to go,” Gibbs says as he enters. "Doc told me what you gotta stay off your feet for the next couple weeks, or you’ll pop your stitches.”

Your eyes roll alongside the nod. And once you fasten the final button, you turn on the bed to face Jethro, careful not to jostle your leg. “Yeah, I know, I got the rundown. I can still work, though-”

“Not at the office. You can work just as well from your motel room.”

The motel? Like hell. “Jethro, I’m not just going to sit around my room, all day,” you reply, voice getting harder. And you notice, surprisingly, that he doesn’t look angry at it. Not even a little annoyed.

“Yes, you are,” Gibbs replies flatly. “And Vance agrees with me.” You huff and look away, annoyed. A few seconds of silence go by before Gibbs speaks up again. “You can stick around today, to get King caught up on the case details. But only today, understand?”

Again, no anger lay in his voice. That doesn’t make you any less frustrated, though. Stupid gunshot wound.

You hear a short sigh come from Gibbs before he walks back to the door, opening it up and motioning with his head. “C’mon. Dwayne’s waiting downstairs for you.”

Whatever frustration this situation has caused, however much you want to argue with Gibbs about letting you actually work, is mostly washed away with that news. Your head whirls around to Jethro, who wears only a placid look as you stand and limp over to him. And Gibbs immediately offers his arm for you to lean on. He easily takes your weight, even though you’re leaning heavily against him all the way to the elevator.

With a heavy limp and a wound that hurts every time you put weight on it, the journey downstairs and out the entrance takes about twice the time it normally would. And, admittedly, you were pretty exhausted by the time you cleared the doors. At least you were finally out of that place.

But somehow, it all seems worth it when you spot Dwayne walking away from the car toward you. The giant grin plastered on his face is contagious as he jogs over, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tackle you in a hug when he reaches you. Pick you up and spin you and otherwise jostle the sensitive injury.

He doesn’t. Dwayne slows to a stop once he nears, still grinning but making sure to come in slow and carefully. “Hey, honey,” he purrs out. Dwayne’s arms are around your waist, squeezing gently and readily taking on your weight whenever you release Jethro’s arm. It feels so much more natural to lean into Dwayne. You can’t really hug him how you want, but it’s enough to just press your head against his shoulder. To feel him press some kisses against your head.

“I was real worried. Everyone kept tellin’ me you were fine, but I wanted to see for myself,” he says. Feeling the vibrations in his chest, you almost forget what he’s talking about.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

You hear him huff, but one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head. Stroke the hair there before carefully backing up, making sure you’re still leaning on him enough to stay standing. “C’mon, let’s go put this bastard away.”

His tone is reassuring. Absolute in a way that makes you smile - the kind only Dwayne can muster up.

Gibbs leads you both to the car, and he’s the one drive back to the Naval Yard. Dwayne sits in the back with you, resting your legs over his lap to assure your thigh isn’t in any awkward positions where it can hurt. And his hand rests on the injured leg, almost protectively, while he holds one of your hands tight. You’d almost died, and Dwayne was very far away; it makes sense that he’s as touchy as he is.

The car ride is spent making idle conversation. Gibbs doesn’t join in (does he ever?) so it’s only you and Dwayne talking about case, which eventually moved into talking about the team, before finally arriving at the plans he’s been making for when you got back home.

Gibbs just listens the whole time, gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turn white. Odd, but you don’t bring attention to it. Don’t have the chance to, because Dwayne’s voice cuts back in to ask if your leg is still okay.

When Jethro said you wouldn’t be working the case, he was serious.

Somehow, deep down, you hoped he’d been bluffing. You’d sit down in your little corner of the bullpen and talk to his team and see how well you work with them and Dwayne and he’d realize that having one extra agent on the case would be great.

You were wrong, of course. Maybe being away for so long has dulled your ability to predict Jethro’s actions. Because after you showed Dwayne all the new evidence and caught him up with everything, he and Gibbs left you behind in the bullpen.

Probably to interrogate the suspect; the man who shot you. During your time in the hospital, Jethro’s team managed to hunt him down and bring him in. He told his agents not to interrogate him. Gibbs wanted to be the one who did it, and Dwayne would be there with him.

You weren’t even allowed to watch.

It was frustrated. Infuriating, even, that Jethro stuck you in his desk and walked away and ordered McGee to keep an eye on you. As if you’d somehow sneak away with a heavy limp and muffled whimpers.

At least being chained to a desk gave you some time to think. Not about the case, admittedly. If anybody could nail a suspect for a crime, it’s Jethro and Dwayne.

Your mind wondered off to a place you didn’t expect it to go: you were thinking about Gibbs. It’s odd, because Dwayne was finally here and it seemed like the case would get wrapped up pretty soon and you can go home together. But there something about Jethro’s behavior over the past day that’s been puzzling.

He’s not as angry as he’s been the last week. No snapping, no grumbling. Not one Gibbs Glare whenever you copped an attitude toward him, when just a few days ago, the attitude would’ve resulted in an argument. And the cause of the behavior change? Nothing you can think of. You haven’t exactly done anything to make him like you again. Nothing to warrant him acting so differently.

The thought of asking him about it came and went; you knew he wouldn’t say anything. He’d brush it off or tell you it was nothing or just ignore the question altogether. You haven’t been gone long enough to hope Jethro has changed him cold shoulder ways.

Still, it bugged you the whole day. All the way up until the sun started to fall, and Gibbs lead Dwayne back into the bullpen. Your eyes follow Jethro for a moment, foolishly hoping to read something on his stoic face before turning to Dwayne.

“You guys get anything out of him?”

Dwayne gives a light shrug, coming up behind his old friend’s desk. His eyes are instantly scanning your leg - no surprise, there. “He’s definitely hiding somethin’ else. We don’t know what, and we don’t wanna charge him with anything until we do,” he answers.

You huff at the news; that slimey fuck needs to be put away as soon as possible, but you saw the logic in their reasoning. The more evidence for the trial, the better.

Dwayne can see you aren’t happy with it, though. His hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder, and when you crane your neck up to look at him, he’s wearing a soft smile. His eyes look heavy, hair mussed up; a testament to how tired he must be. So you straighten up, careful not to hurt yourself. “Let’s call it a night, then. I’m pretty tired.” You push yourself up to stand; with Dwayne’s help, of course. There’s a certain spark of excitement that comes with his hands keeping you steady that no exhaustion could snuff out. “I hear your room is right above mine.”

You look back up to Dwayne, expecting him to smile and laugh. But the soft look on his face flickers with doubt. His eyes glance to Gibbs before they return to you. “Actually, I was thinkin’ it’d be a better idea if you stayed with Gibbs until the case is over,” he says.

His words floor you. Threaten to sap the strength from the leg keeping you upright because the shock is so powerful. Stay with Jethro?

“What?”

You and the Marine ask that at the same time. Dwayne looks surprised for a moment, but that doesn’t deter him. “I don’t think you should be alone, honey. Not with your injury as fresh as it is. What if somethin’ happens, and nobody’s there to help?”

“I’ll stay in your room.”

“I only got one bed, and so do you. You’ll be more comfortable at Jethro’s.”

A small huff comes up at his rebuttal. And you know Dwayne’s suggesting this because he cares. He wants you safe and happy. But the thought of staying at Jethro’s home for who knows how long puts a deep pit in your stomach. You glance to Gibbs, trying to gauge his reaction to the proposal. His brows are knitted together, but his face doesn’t give much away.

You want to say no. To tell Dwayne you’ll be fine on your own, or that you could easily share a bed with a busted leg. But looking back to him, you can see the concern written plainly on his face. If staying at Jethro’s house will make him feel better, then that’s that.

Finally, you force on a smile and nod. “Sure, it’s not a problem.”

With Dwayne driving back to his hotel room (and making you promise to call him whenever you need to), Gibbs takes you to his home. The drive is quiet, other than when he stopped at some fast food place for dinner; Jethro staring at the road and you watching other houses as you pass. It’s not until he pulls into his driveway do you finally look straight ahead.

The whole ride over, you didn’t expect the sight of Jethro’s house to punch you in the gut, like it did. So many memories in that house. A lot of good, but also a lot of bad. It was downstairs, in that basement of his, when Gibbs told you that things would be better if you weren’t together. When he ended something so precious to you.

That memory was so strong, so vivid, you didn’t even notice that Jethro left the car and came around to help you out. You’re leaning on him again all the way inside, and then up the stairs to a little spare bedroom he has. Gibbs makes the bed in silence, and then he holds up the extra pillow he brought with him. “This is for your leg.”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna use it tonight. I don’t wanna find out you didn’t prop your leg up.”

“Jethro, I’m gonna use it.”

Satisfied, he tosses the pillow on the bed before once again coming to your side. Basically carrying you back down the stairs and into the dining room for dinner. The food is alright, if a little cold. You find yourself looking forward to whenever Jethro decides to cook up some steaks for dinner. That’s one of the small things you really do miss about him.

And yet, even though you two are sat down for dinner, it’s dead quiet. Tense enough to where you barely look up to Jethro’s face. His eyes are down, focused on his burger, as if you aren’t even there. Should you say something? Talk about the case? Ask him if he’s glad to see Dwayne again? You shoot that last one down instantly; that would be way too awkward.

You clear your throat to get his attention. “Could you get me a beer?” You ask him.

“No,” Jethro says, and his answer makes you frown. “You’re on pain meds.”

“Oh, come on.” You can’t help but scoff a little at his reasoning - as if Jethro had any room to talk about what’s best for you. “It’s just one beer, it won’t do anything to me.”

He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t do that frustrating clench of his jaw when he gets annoyed. He just shakes his head. “No means no,” Gibbs replies before taking another big bite of his burger.

His voice is flat, despite scolding words. And you can’t help but just watch him for a few moments in confusion. What the hell was so different about him? “Okay, what’s going on with you?” Jethro’s eyes finally flicker up at your question, watching as you cross your arms and lean against the table to get closer. “Two days ago, you couldn’t stand being around me. Hated that I was butting in. And now you’re being almost nice to me,” you continue before giving a light shrug. “I know you way better than you think.”

Finally, it seems like you struck some kinda nerve. His stone face falters, eyes averting down as Gibbs drops his burger and sits up a little straighter. All the signs of a flustered Jethro Gibbs. Under other circumstances, he’ll try to change the subject. But he knows you well, too. He knows you won’t let the matter drop.

“You were shot. Hurt really bad,” he replies. “Just trying to be nice.”

A cross snort comes out, but you can’t help it. Jethro trying to be nice? After everything that’s happened lately? “With how you’ve been acting, I thought you’d be happy I was shot.”

It slipped out, you’ll admit it. You didn’t truly mean it, or at least, didn’t mean to say it out loud. But it works to snap his eyes up instantly, turning hard and stern, like the old Gibbs use to have. “Why the hell would you think something like that?” He demands. And his voice has that familiar angry tone.

Surprisingly, instead of feeling defensive, you just feel guilty. Because you did know Jethro well. And you knew he probably felt responsible that you were shot on his watch. After all, you were still an NCIS agent, trying your hardest to catch a killer. Plus, you were dating one of his oldest friends.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” you tell him softly. An attempt to curb his temper. “And I know Dwayne doesn’t blame you either, so-”

“I’m not blaming myself,” he snaps out. Louder, this time. Enough to make you flinch slightly.

That’s when Gibbs glances away, exhaling heavily before he shakes his head and lets it hang. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him look this....well, defeated. “You were just lying there, bleeding out, and the only thing I could think about at the time was that I was gonna lose you again.”

It’s fortunate his eyes were down, pointed from you, because your eyes shoot open wide at the admission. You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything, because shock keeps any words from coming up.

And he’s not done. “Then at the hospital, you were sleeping and King called. And it just reminded me that you aren’t mine to lose.” He shifts in his seat, obviously not comfortable with spilling so much of his guts, but he figures it can’t get much worse. “He deserves you a hell of a lot more than I do. He won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

There’s few seconds of silence. Your head is screaming for you to say anything in response, but what could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, and if you were being honest, you didn’t want to tell him he was. That would just be a lie. Still, you have to say something.

You’re still juggling with words when Gibbs suddenly stands up and starts collecting all the take-out wrappers. Trying his hardest not to look at you. “You should go to bed. You’re probably tired.”

He disappears into the kitchen, and you could probably guess he’ll retreat into that damn basement of his after he’s done cleaning up. So you stand and limp the staircase. Without Jethro there to help, it takes a lot longer to climb the steps, but you eventually make it to empty little bedroom he set up for you.

True to your word, you tuck the pillow under your leg before lying back and just staring at the ceiling. And despite a week of arguing and fighting and swallowing down smart comments whenever Gibbs says anything, you can’t push away the deep sadness hollowing your chest.

It’s hard to forget the good times with him. Laughing together and working on his boat. Dragging him out of the house to go see a movie, but you end up just making out the whole time. And laying in his arms at night made you feel safer than you could remember. Knowing nothing bad would ever happen, as long as you stay in bed with him.

But then you started running out of good memories. They all lead to the confrontation in the basement. The raw hurt and anguish that never really went away, even after so long.

And you realize Jethro was right: Dwayne would never do that to you.

Suddenly, you feel like calling him. Just to talk for a little while and hear his voice. But it was hard to find the strength to sit up and search for your phone. Besides, you were tired. And the pillow propping your leg up helped with the pain, so it was easy to just close your eyes and fall into a dark, dreamless sleep.

#ncis imagine #ncis new orleans x reader #dwayne pride x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #ncis nola x reader

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littlekatleaf · 5 years

Text

Once Warmed My Hands Over a Burning Maserati (part 2)

Junkrat shook his head. Shut it, he told the whisper. It just drifted under his nose like a tendril of smoke. He took a breath, held it, bit his tongue. He was not going to fucking sneeze again. Not going to give Roadhog the satisfaction. He could feel the burn of Roadhog’s gaze on him as he struggled with the urge and he couldn’t decide which pissed him off more, the fucking itch in his nose or the mingling desire and embarrassment of having Roadhog watching him. He couldn’t stand it, he felt like he was going to burst. He wished he could destroy something.

“Would ya quit looking at me. You’re makin’ me feel fucking weird.” Pleased to have managed to get it out without sneezing, but his head felt stuffed with cotton and he was beginning to get that warning ache in his missing arm and leg that signaled a fever rising. Of fucking course.

Roadhog didn’t move. Was possible he wasn’t staring, couldn’t be sure with the mask, but it sure as shit felt like he was.

Junkrat threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine. I’m outta here.” He couldn’t make himself stay. He had to get out, even though it was still raining, even though he just wanted to sleep off whatever was making him feel like shit. He couldn’t be in the same room as Roadhog. Couldn’t be in the same house. He slammed the door behind him with satisfaction.

Which faded quickly as the rain continued to piss over his head. Mud dragged at his boot and made his prosthetic wobble disconcertingly. What was he doing? Where was he going? Too far to walk into town in this shit weather, and never the best idea without either Roadhog or some sort of disguise and he had neither. Could take the motorcycle, but he knew he was a problematic driver at the best of times. This was not the best of times. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, wishing it might make him even a bit warmer and walked.

By the time the red neon sign for the pub appeared out of the rain and clouds, Junkrat was so exhausted and cold that he decided he didn’t give a shit who might or might not recognize him. He just wanted to get out of the rain, sit down, and have a drink. He tugged open the door, his wet hand slipping on the doorknob.

For a second he stood just inside, rubbing rain off his face and relishing in the feeling of being warm, even if the air did smell like stale beer and old cigarette smoke and made him cough. A quick glance around the room - only a couple of other people hiding out from the weather. Some bloke practically passed out at the end of the bar, a sheila by herself a couple seats away, and the bartender. No one looked like trouble, but couldn’t be too careful anyway. He hunched his shoulders, slouching a bit and made his way to the bar.

“What’ll it be, mate?” The bloke tending bar barely made eye contact as he asked. Clearly didn’t care who Junkrat was, or what he was doing there, beyond the drink. Made Junkrat somewhat more comfortable.

“Whiskey. Straight.” His voice rasped a little and he cleared his throat. Maybe the alcohol would kill off the germs. Or at least knock him out for a bit. The first sip burned a trail from his throat down to the center of his stomach, where it pooled into warmth. For the first time since shit started going south his muscles relaxed. He tossed back the rest of the drink and ordered another.

“Judge came back with time served,” the sheila said to the bartender, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Can you believe it?” She gazed into her nearly empty glass, like it might be able to explain.

The bartender shrugged. “Pretty sure the judges ‘round here are all on the take.”

She shook her head. “Bullshit’s what it is. The kid barely lived. Won’t ever have a normal life…” she drained her glass and the bartender refilled without comment.

“What happened,” Junkrat found himself asking, curious.

The sheila blinked at him, blearily. The beer wouldn’t have been her first. She slurred as she described the attack on her baby niece, the woman who was trusted to care for her but almost killed her instead, because the baby was taking all her dad’s love. Clouds of anger gathered on Junkrat’s horizon as she told about the trial - only lasted a couple of days before being dismissed. Judge claimed that there wasn’t enough proof of intent, but the bitch had rich parents, parents who were friends with the Council. Junkrat knew full fucking well anyone who had Council connections could do whatever they wanted. Didn’t matter one bit that an innocent was hurt. Didn’t matter that a tiny slip of a girl would never have the chance at a real life. Wasn’t right.

He finished his second whiskey. The fire of the alcohol mingled with the fire of his anger, lighting up all of his synapses, burning away the smoke and chills, leaving the hard clarity of plans. Fucking shit needed to be made right. “Where the bitch at now,” he asked.

Sheila shrugged. “Her daddy’s probably picking her up at the jail. Fuck if I know where she goes after that.”

Junkrat ordered a third drink and considered. The clock behind the bar read 11:30. Prisoner release was at midnight. It’d be too late if he waited for Roadhog, so he’d have to do this one on his own. Small job though, no problem. He swallowed half the whiskey and took stock. Hadn’t brought the frag launcher so he’d have to make do. Had a couple grenades - never leave home without ‘em; a couple of frag mines. Maybe a bit of phosphorous left from the last job. Could always find a bottle, make a Molotov. He was going to have to rig something up. A trap of some sort, maybe. Gonna need to move fast. He tossed off the last of the drink, left a fifty on the bar and headed for the door, barely registering the thanks of the bartender, his mind ticking with possibility.

Gonna fuck up another one… the whisper wafted through his mind, scattering plans like leaves in wind. Junkrat shook his head once, sharply. Piss off, I’m busy. He ignored the doubts, ignored the rain, ignored the way his muscles wanted to ache and his fingers wanted to shake. He held himself tight against the thread of weakness. He was going to do this one right. He was going to fix this one fucking thing. Not gonna let the Council get another one over on an innocent. And anyone who would hurt a baby like that - anyone who would rob a kid of a chance, even in this shithole… well, they didn’t deserve freedom. Hell, they didn’t deserve to live. And if it was up to Junkrat to make sure that was the outcome was more than fine with him.

He thought it went off without a hitch. Well, for him anyway. The alley’d been empty but for one car, fucking Maserati, flashy as shit, idling by the door of the jail. He’d set his traps just outside the mouth of the alley, rigged so he could set them off with the Molotov cocktails he’d managed to put together with a nicked bottle of kerosene. He wasn’t completely sure he’d have enough explosive to take out the car entirely, but a smoke grenade through the window had sent the bitch and her daddy stumbling out of the car and into the path of his frag mines. The resulting explosions, the fire… it had been beautiful, warming every single cell of his body. See, he’d wanted to say to the voice. See what I did. What I made, what I destroyed. I fixed it.

But he’d lingered too long - watching the way the flames licked the sides of the car, paint bubbling - and now he was stuck. Hadn’t fully considered an escape plan. The remaining smoke from the grenades and the explosions had given him enough cover to find a place to hide. Not a comfortable place - the rain was dripping down the back of his neck; not a safe place - too close to the scene for that, could hear sirens; but it gave him a place to regroup. Figure out the next step.

Screwed it up again, Jamison.

Junkrat rubbed his hands over his face, his head throbbing, chills shuddering through his body. His nose was running and he sniffed, then wiped it on his wrist. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t think of the words. He drew up his knees, rested his forehead on his arms. I’ll figure a way out, he told himself. In a minute. After I rest. For just a minute. Then, from a distance, the sound of a motorcycle. A Harley. Junkrat sat up, listening closely. He knew that sound. Roadhog. He pushed himself up, moving through the shadows, fast as he could to the west. A way out. Roadhog was coming to give him a way out.

Shouts behind him, telling him to stop, to put up his hands but then the sound of the chopper drowned them out and Roadhog appeared around the corner. The relief left Junkrat giddy and giggling.

“Bloody perfect timing, Roadie,” he said as he dropped into the sidecar. He yanked his frag launcher from its place by his feet and sent a volley of grenades off behind them. Police scattered and they roared away.

At least the rain, which still pissed down over them, slower than before but colder too, meant he didn’t need to say anything else to Roadhog. Wasn’t even sure what to say. The anger had been completely extinguished by the rain and exhaustion. He crossed his arms over his chest, like that would make him warmer somehow, and slouched down in the sidecar. Maybe just sleep it off and when he woke up it’d just be over and done. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, but everything hurt - his head, his eyelids, his hair. His missing arm, his missing leg. Gonna be a bad one, he realized. Shit. Part One

#oversnez #snezfic

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biletdoux · 4 years

Text

stages of love | j.jh TEASER

Pairing: jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader

Rating: G (teaser), M (completed work)

Genre + Tropes: college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut)

Warnings: none (in the teaser), full warning list will be posted with completed work

Length: 1.7k+ (teaser), TBA (completed work)

Summary: A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart.

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: I didn’t intend to post a teaser, but maybe it will motivate me to write faster if I at least just put something out?? maybe lol. Story is based on an 8track playlist I found years ago which has been lost over time. I tried writing this story many times, but I finally got to it, so we’ll see how it goes. Let me know what you think ! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be in your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?”

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he had a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you had agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them.

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.”

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserved for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a music college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second.

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.”

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri.

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit.

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you were cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?”

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.”

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind.

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugs. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing.

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

The reaction is almost instantaneous.

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

#nctcreations #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut

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myaekingheart · 5 years

Note

Top 5 accessories for cosplaying? (Like, Favorite wig, necklace, dress, etc and if you have photos I’d love to see them. 😂)

OH MAN THIS IS ANOTHER GOOD ONE, THANK YOU JESSIE xD

1. HANDS DOWN, my Rapunzel wig. This little baby is truly my labor of love and the pinnacle of my Rapunzel cosplaying experience. I’ve actually always felt kind of competitive about my Rapunzel cosplay? Like I was never a good enough Rapunzel cosplayer, and it took a lot of work and money hrmmm for me to feel this confident and proud of how far I’ve come, and this wig is like the end-all, be-all for that. The dress is gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but the wig just really pulls it all together. Ever since I saw usagi-kirov’s amazing Rapunzel cosplays, I knew I needed to have a super long wig. It took a lot of trial and error to finally get where I am now with it, and I couldn’t be more in love with it. It tops out at 13ft long, and as much as I hate having to clean out all that hair, a part of me wants to expand on it EVEN MORE in the future, until it reaches maybe 30ft!

I’d like to say I’m a very detail-oriented person and this is especially true of things I’m passionate about, like cosplaying Rapunzel. As such, I felt extremely compelled to go the extra mile with my wig and add in a special little detail to it that I think makes the whole thing even better: Rapunzel’s brunette strand.

In the movie, as a quick refresher, Mother Gothel tries to snip a lock of baby Rapunzel’s hair when she breaks into the castle in the very beginning of the movie. She finds, however, that when the hair is cut, it “turns brown and loses it’s power.” That little strand of hair that Gothel cut never grew back, and Rapunzel displays it to Eugene after they escape death in the cave after the dam breaks and she heals his injured hand with her hair. Adding this to my own cosplay was probably the best impulsive decision I ever made. The strand itself is a clip in that was originally long and white and bought for a now-defunct Anna cosplay. I got really inspired one night, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and a brown sharpie and voila-- Rapunzel’s brunette strand! Even if you can’t always see it when I’m cosplaying, I always love the fact that it’s there and that I can always pull my blonde hair back and show it off whenever the timing is appropriate. I just feel like it adds an extra little dose of magic, you know?

2. Pascal Now this little guy has been with me since 2012 and is honestly one of the best purchases I’ve ever made. I found him for $7 on Ebay by a company named Bullyland, and while he’s tiny he’s super screen accurate in design and just the cutest damn thing. I’ve brought him lots of places with me over the years, including Oktoberfest at my grandparent’s church and Bok Tower in Florida! As well as pretty much every con I’ve attended as Rapunzel, too <3

3. Satchel (Wow this is really becoming all Tangled props, isn’t it? Whoops!) Now this one I have yet to break out at a convention but I will tomorrow and I am so excited to! I’ve been itching for a replica of Eugene’s satchel from the film for ages, but I didn’t think I was skilled enough to make one on my own, and the internet is a wonderland for people of all different styles and skill levels to sell their own renditions. I put off getting an actual one for so long, and ended up even settling for a slightly-similar brown cross-body bag instead for the longest time, but then came my lord and savior mothership supreme HOT TOPIC. As part of a recent Disney collection, they released a replica of the satchel and I knew my time had come. My parents were gracious enough to buy one for me and bring it up on one of their trips to my college town and I can honestly say, I am absolutely in love with it. It’s so screen accurate and beautifully made, and the inside lining is purple with the Corona sun emblem! It’s honestly just one of my absolute favorite things and I am so grateful to have been able to get my hands on one.

4. Rapunzel’s Crown I don’t really wear this one out just because she’s delicate, but this is another beauty I couldn’t be happier to get my hands on. I had wanted a replica of Rapunzel’s beautiful crown for so long, and even more than the satchel, but had the hardest time getting one for years. Disney had released an official replica in 2010 when the movie was released, and it was available until late 2011/early 2012 I believe? But it was so gorgeous, and I wanted one so badly, but I was never able to actually get one, they had sold out way too quickly-- go figure. Disney has never released another crown quite like this one since, so I was heartbroken when I was completely unable to get one. This was really before “princessing” took a huge boom back when Angel-Secret, Fairytale Wigs, and Secret Honey’s Halloween line were really household princess cosplay names (or at least for me). Much like the satchel, there were sellers online creating Rapunzel tiara’s but they were always either not quite what I wanted or way out of my price range. I felt like the only way I’d be able to really get what I wanted was to try and make it which my then-fifteen year old self really did not master. I had first tried sculpting one...we don’t talk about the results of that. I nicknamed that attempt “The Sand Mound” because that is exactly what it looked like: a mound of sand. Then I tried using a cheap plastic tiara that I got in a Barnegat, NJ Target one summer as a base and that worked for a while but it still wasn’t really what I wanted, was super top heavy, and really poorly made to the point where it was just falling apart. It wasn’t until 2015 when I finally found a reasonably priced, screen accurate Rapunzel tiara, the crown of my dreams. It was made by an indie company named Moonfire charms, who has since stopped making the crown, and is one of my most prized possessions, honestly. It’s just so beautiful and detailed and well-made, even if it is a little top-heavy, too, and I’m too scared to wear it to a convention for fear of it breaking on me (which I have good reason to fear because it actually came damaged when I ordered it and they were gracious enough to send me a new one free of charge). Looking back, this one is actually even more screen accurate than the Disney Store one was, so I guess things worked out for the best in the end, anyways!

5. Dinglehopper I know what you’re thinking: how can a fork be one of your favorite cosplay accessories? Well, listen, this dinglehopper thank-you-very-much is just super magical, okay? When I was putting together my Ariel cosplay, I thought it would be cute to have a dinglehopper as a prop but I wasn’t too concerned about buying one. It was something that I was just kind of “whatever, I’ll just grab a fork” about. But then I came across this vintage serving fork that my mom had, I think it may have belonged to her grandmother, and I instantly knew this was the fork.

“It’s her! She’s the one I’ve been looking for!” Seriously, though, this fork just has a certain je ne sais quois about it that makes it feel like it was ripped straight from a fairytale. Maybe because it’s antique. Maybe because it has some rose detailing on the handle. Maybe I’m just a sap. Who knows? But this fork is definitely a precious keepsake that I just love incorpoating into my Ariel cosplay.

#rapunzel #tangled #ariel #the little mermaid #disney #cosplay #my face #myaekingart #myaekingheart #ramblings #answered asks #lasaraleen

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crackinthewhip · 6 years

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continued from @puzzlepcice:

bull. shit. “ like you? when, troy? when exactly could we have made our way to the top? ” she demanded, vexation burning furiously within her eyes. “ when we’re maimed? broken and beaten? when an eye, an arm, or a tongue is missing? you’re talking about a man who murdered someone for being afraid. ” resting her hand on her hip, clems eyes fell closed. “ there might’ve been a ranking system you guys had, but it wasnt worth our lives. so dont tell me we would’ve lived as long as YOU,. ” she was half surprised he didn’t punish troy for banging up the door of the defenses that tavia had said. then again, would he even tell her if he had? she was shocked he was even being this honest with her in the first place. her frown remained at his remark. it left an itching, crawling and plain uncomfortable feeling that blanketed her skin at how much she actually UNDERSTOOD that he was still bitter over the fall of HOWES. she hadn’t known much of anything about troy except his constant surveillance, rude awakenings, and his job to fetch her to whisk her away to another manual labor job. but she could only assume he hadn’t had it as easy as anyone else, and despite its flaws? HOWES had seemed like a promising place. the fact her group had singlehandedly brought it to the brink of complete destruction in one night, she supposed, would leave her feeling BOTHERED too. if she had met the men and women that tore down her home..? killed her friends? hell would be a PARADISE compared to what she would do to them.. “ look, what happened in there still pisses me off too, and I’m not saying I feel bad for what I did, because you guys gave us no choice, but I’m not heartless either. for what its worth, I do understand where you’re coming from. HOWES was the most stabilized place you’ve seen a long time, and to have it all crash like that by someone else? yeah, I’d be pissed. ” expectant, amber eyes meet contemplative brown ones that regarded her, seeing the wheels turning in his mind, processing her words that she knew had more truth in them than what he was probably comfortable with. his muttered response caused a snort to escape. “ don’t get me wrong, I admire your whole sense of loyalty and dedication and everything, its what kept you alive for this long, but don’t you think its weird how…its all come full circle? ”

“You think it was easy for me to get where I was?” Troy snorted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “You have no fuckin’ idea.” Pulling the trigger on the last of his family had been one of the hardest personal trials he’d ever faced -- but it had to be done. It had to be done. The ghosts of the past needed to stop bothering him, now - that whole incident was more than a few years ago, and he’d found somewhere new. His mind just had to catch up with reality, that was all.

To further his point, he hissed, “Look, it -- it don’t matter anymore. Bill’s dead, Howe’s is gone.” As a reflex, his fingers tightened on the gun in his hand, feeling comfort in the shape of the weapon. “But goddammit... I am still pissed.” He had no idea why he was spilling this all to Clementine, of all people, but the sense of familiarity got his mouth working and let him release all the pent-up frustration he’d carried on his back for years. It was almost therapeutic, though he knew she wouldn’t agree.

Full circle. Yeah, that was a simple way of putting it. “I guess everythin’ comes back around eventually,” he admitted, knowing his earlier fears of his past would someday come back to eat him alive. “But-- but enough about my fascinatin’ life. I know you wanna know every single detail of my journey, but I gotta know what you’ve been up to.” His words were dripping with sarcasm, indicating that he didn’t really care one way or another if she wanted to share. All he wanted at this point was to get the topic away from himself.

#puzzlepcice #;v: s4 #;v: raiders #/here we are!!#/also i figured out what the issue was #/it flagged it again when i posted your icon with it #/i think it thinks your icon is something bad #/idk the flesh colors probably #/who knows?#/anyway i hope this is ok!#/lemme know if you need the previous replies bc i have one each for us before this post

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years

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COTW 16? Update

Despite being pregnant, Eren's body had tried to send him into heat. They'd talked a little over the photographs, until Eren had shut down, murmuring that he needed to testify, before leaving the dining room table. His mate taking himself to bed, locking himself away, and leaving Levi with a sick sense of worry as he left for work again. Eren still locked away when he came home, and wasn't up come morning. He knew Eren would take care of Viren, but with his specialist appointment the following day, he didn't want the omega under any unnecessary stress, so called Hanji. Hanji happy to take Viren for the night, which would give Eren some space to breathe and prepare himself. When he came home from work that night, Eren came striding out. He didn't pause before pushing his lips to Levi's, growling into his mouth as he tried to pull him closer. Led into Eren's room, his mate was almost frenzied he pushed him into nest and begged him to mount him. Levi tried to be gentle, yet after cleaning him up, he'd been stuck with simmering desire in the base of his stomach. Eren didn't really want this, he knew that, but his mate wouldn't take no for an answer. Leaving him alone in his room Levi fled back to their room, closing the door and sitting with his back to it as Eren started pounding against it, sobbing for him. He wanted to cave in, and to soothe his mate until he was purring mess, but that wasn't what Eren really needed right now. It was a small eternity before Eren finally stopped knocking, Levi wrecked with guilt over doing the responsible adult thing. He could have given in. He wanted to give in, but they'd talked about it. Eren wasn't ready and he respected his omega's wishes... even if they really fucking sucked. Falling asleep against the door, he woke with a stiff back and a crink in his neck. Fuck. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd supposed to just stay there until Eren went to his room, then he was supposed to check in with his omega. Dragging himself off the floor, he felt revolting. His clothes stuck to him with sweat, and in all the wrong places. Shit. Today was going to be hard enough without him looking like shit. He needed a shower, and roughly 12 extra strong cups of tea. Eren's door was closed, so Levi showered first. He didn't want to wake his mate, only to abandon him again. Trying the handle, his mate's door was unlocked. Eren's bed has been transformed into a lavish nest, with all of his blankets and pillows gathered, and though wrecked, it was clear he'd taken his time to thoroughly prepare it. Amidst the messof blankets, Eren's hair was poking out. A mess he itched to straighten up for him, but he didn't dare. He knew better than to violate the sanctity of his mate's nest. Instead he sat on the edge of it, not entering without being invited. Shaking Eren's shoulder, he woke his love, Eren trying to hide in his blankets with a long groan. He reaching out, Eren snaked an arm around his waist "Eren, we have to get up" "Noooo. Sleepy" "Your appointment's today" "I'm not moving" Clinging to him tightly, it seemed Eren didn't want him moving either "Eren, I know you don't want to move, but if you don't want to go to your appointment covered in slick and cum, you kind of have to" His words caused Eren to release him, his omega shifting back from his a scent filling with guilt as he pulled his blanket down over his face "Shhh... hey. It's ok" "I... fuck... heat" "As eloquent as always, but yes, your body tried to send you into heat" "I'm sorry" "No. It's ok. But are you ok?" "I feel wrecked" "Are you mad?" "No... I probably would have been feeling even worse... uh. Thank you" "I've already had a shower, so take your time. I'll make breakfast" "Am I allowed to eat?" Levi drew his brow in confusion "Why wouldn't you be?" "I don't know how these appointments work" "Today we meet with the specialist and then we'll discuss our options. They won't be doing anything today" "Are you sure?" "I'm sure. Are you coming out of your nest?" "I don't want to move. I'm beached" "I'm not coming in there to pull you out. This is your nest" "I think I'm literally beached... I have the stuck. Just leave me here" "I'm not leaving you in here" "Fiiiine. You're going to have to leave though. Things under here are a mess" "Ok. Just call out for me if you need help" "Mmm... ok..." "I love you " Coming out the bathroom in time for their scrambled eggs to be fresh from the pan, his mate had looked lost as he gazed across the apartment "Where's Viren?" "He's with Hanji. I thought you could use the rest before today, and we'll pick him up on the way home" "Oh..." "I thought you could use the rest" "You said... it's... I miss him" "It's only for a few hours, then we'll pick him up. I don't have to go in until after your appointment" "Are you sure? I could go alone" "You're not going alone. You're my mate and they're our children. I'm going to be holding your hand every step of the way" "Are you sure you really want to see them? It... doesn't look great" "I've seen the scans Eren. I know what we've gotten into and we'll figure out what's best for our pups. Why don't you sit? I'll bring breakfast over to you" Eren looked slightly guilty as he curled up on the recliner. Titan coming running to him, the cat had been in Viren's room "I don't like not sitting at the dining table. It doesn't feel right" "When I get a day off, we'll all go together and choice something. We need to start picking up things for the pups" "I... think we should wait" "Why?" This wasn't going to turn out like the whole wedding fiasco was it? I still wanted to marry Eren, but the trial had driven it from his mind. Though it was a little surprising that Eren hadn't found the ring yet, given the amount of cleaning he liked to do "In case they make me abort" "No can make you abort" "I'm an omega. They can literally force me to" "And I'm telling you they can't" Carrying his breakfast over, Levi snagged the coffee table with foot to pull it closer to Eren, before placing it down and lifting Titan from Eren's hold "Good god, you've got fat" "He's not fat. He's fluffy" "Then we need to start shaving him and selling his fur off" "He's perfect as he is" "He's a fatty. I bet the moment I place him down, he's going to run for his food" "I'm not taking that bet. I wish the hardest part of my day was jumping on the kitchen counter" "No one is stopping you from jumping on the kitchen counter" "That seems like effort. If I jump on the counter, do I still have to go?" "You do... its better to know everything than just worrying about it" "I hate when you're right" "I know, now eat your breakfast then we'll head in" * Eren fell silent as they sat in the waiting room. They'd been sent for an ultrasound, which Eren hadn't been able to handle. His omega had taken one look at their pups, then closed his eyes as silent tears formed. The tumour had clearly grown, though both pups were still alive. Both their little heartbeats filled the room, sent Eren into a meltdown. His hold on his hand grew limp, Eren turning his face from the direction of the screen, while the woman performing the scan tried to reassure them that Eren was in good hands, and offered her sympathy over what they were going through. He supposed he could understand that Eren didn't want to get more attached to them, when he could lost them, but he knew it was too late for Eren to putting those particular walls up. His mate loved the pups, just as much as he did. In the end, his fiancée kept his eyes closed until the technician finally wiped gel off his stomach and they were sent back up to the fourth floor to wait. Like everything in life, the wait is usually worse than the actual appointment. Holding Eren's hand, he pressed kisses to the back of it, having realised that Eren was going to be answering any of questions any time soon. By the time Eren's name was called, they'd already been waiting for over an hour. Eren had been to the bathroom twice in that time, returning and looking paler each time he did. His scent was verging on panic, leaving all the alphas on edge as Levi led him over to the man that had called them through. They'd both thought they'd be taken into the consultation room, but instead, Eren's vitals were taken, as was his previous medical history and the complications during his first pregnancy. Levi was left to answer, while Eren stared down at his stomach. Once the short examination was over, they were sent back to the waiting room for another half an hour long wait. This time when Eren's name was called, his fiancée's knees gave out when he stood. Looping his arm around Eren's waist, Levi kept him propped up until Eren finally took a small step "I'm here. I've got you" Giving a curt nod, the pair of them made their way back into the hall they'd followed the nurse into before. This time, they were led past the nurses office, then another four doors down. Sitting behind her desk, the specialist was already waiting. The woman was on the youthful side of old. The roots of her hair were peppered with grey hairs, while her face was relatively wrinkle free. Rising from behind her desk, she gestured to the two chairs in front of it "Hello, I'm Doctor Reed. Please take a seat" Levi moved his chair closer to Eren's, his mate sitting down and immediately trying to curl into himself. Placing his hand on Eren's thigh, he squeezed softly "So. Which one of you is Eren?" Eren didn't get the joke, raising his hand slightly to indicate he was "Sorry. Just a little humour. Now, I understand this is your second pregnancy, and you've also suffered through a partial miscarriage. It's my job to make sure this little pup lives to meet his parents, and I'm going to my very best to make that happen. I can't make any promises, and I won't. Not all pups survive this, and not all mothers survive the birth. Now that I've got the scary talk out the way, I'm going to have give you a quick examination, then we'll talk about your options. Are you able to hop up on that examination table for me?" Reed smiled at them, while Eren looked to him "It's ok. I'm not going anywhere" "I wouldn't dream of asking your alpha to leave, and I promise all I wish to examine is your stomach" She was good with him. Levi was quietly impressed by her soothing tone. He supposed this wasn't her first dance "See. I'm not going anywhere" Nodding his consent, Levi fussed over Eren as he walked over to the examination table, Levi helping him up "Excellent" Snapping on a pair of blue plastic gloves, the woman moved to Eren's side "Let me know if you feel any discomfort, pain or pressure" Nodding, Eren squeezed his hand. There were a couple of times that Eren whispered "there", but the woman didn't look terribly phased by it. She was still smiling as she stripped off her gloves "Alright. I hope that wasn't terrible. You can take a seat again, take your time to gather your feet under you" Mumbling a thanks, Levi "helped" Eren off the table and back to sit. Washing her hands and retaking her seat, she opened the file marked with Eren's name "Now. You're 20 weeks along... ok. Right. I see... Eren are you able to provide me with a full medical history? I'd like to hear it from you" Eren looked to him with pleading eyes "Eren has high anxiety levels. I know his medical history, so would you mind if I filled you in?" "Eren, do you mind if Levi speaks on your behalf?" "He... can say it better" "Alright, Eren. Levi, if you will" Starting with Eren's unpredictable heats, Levi hoped Eren didn't mind him getting too personal. It was for the good of their pup that the woman knew as many details as possible. As the talked, she took a few notes, flicking between pages in Eren's file as she did. The whole time Levi was talking, he was wishing she'd explain what she saw on the scan. Eren was one long moment away from breaking down, but it didn't stop her from making them wait another small eternity once he'd finished explaining everything, though he had left Eren's trip to Karanes out of it... the realisation that his mate's life, and the life of the pups, was in the hands of a woman he knew nothing about set his alpha on edge, causing him to grind his teeth before catching himself doing so "Ok. Now, have you been told what a Sacrococcygeal teratomas is?" "We have..." "Basically it's a big tumour right here... at the base of the spine" Taking a pen and piece of paper, she drew a very rough diagram, pointing to an alarmingly big sac "There are four types of tumour. Looking at your scans, I would be inclined to agree it's a type one, but there is only so much we can see in a scan. When you admitted into hospital, the growth measured 11 millimetres, which is a fair size for a pup so small, the grown now measures a little over 15 millimetres, so it's still growing" Looking down to her file, she flicked through a few pages "The biopsy results show the tumour to benign, which is a good thing" Flicking back through her pages, Levi resisted the urge to rip the file from her hands as she did "I see an abortion was recommended" "He's not having an abortion" "Eren can speak for himself. As I was saying, I see an abortion was recommended, and I can see why. At the moment, that pup is trying his hardest to grow, but with the rich blood supply of the tumour, more energy is going to the tumour, causing his heart to work even harder to keep up with it. Heart failure is common in cases like this, as is the risk of miscarriage and early labour. There has already been a thickening his placenta, as well as signs of excess fluid. It's going to be a hard pregnancy, but if we can get you through to your 30th week, I believe you all have an excellent chance. Of course, a caesarean will be necessary, followed by surgery immediately following birth. There are other things we can do, but for now, waiting is the best option. They're still a little too young for me to be recommending the surgery route. You also need to be prepared to abort. I know you don't want an abortion, and I know it's a difficult decision, but there is only a finite amount of space in Eren's womb, the tumour may only be on pup, but it may lead to complications with the second" 30 weeks seemed like a life time... especially when Eren was having so much trouble already... now the choice to continue the pregnancy could cost them both pups... He... what the hell was he supposed to say to that. A risk of miscarriage. A risk of early labour. A risk of losing both pups and a risk of losing Eren. His tiny world they'd made together was shattering around him. His alpha was urging him to grab Eren and to flee before the woman could drop any more bad news on their lap. After a few moments, Levi found his voice again. Eren had said he needed to testify after looking at the photos, but after hearing all of that, he couldn't let him. He wanted to lock him in their apartment and never let him out "Eren has been called to give evidence in a trial. Will he be able to do that?" "I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Pregnancy is hard enough, a pregnancy with complications more so. Too much stress on you and your pups could lead to all kinds of complications" "Are you able to write us a recommendation that he doesn't take the stand? The officer in charge of the case will only take a statement from an impartial physician" "One look at his current medical state should tell any trained professional that he is not in the right frame of being to be giving a testimony" "Unfortunately they tend to hold the fact that Eren is an omega over him" Moving back to the first page of Eren's file, Reed read as she spoke "Yes. That is unfortunate. Now. Eren, we will be monitoring the tumour growth over the coming weeks. As I work on a rotation basis, I'll schedule you in for 4 weeks from today. 4 millimetres is a fair amount of growth, despite being so small to us. I want you to have another ultrasound in two weeks time, then a 3-dimensional ultrasound before you come to see me again. If you begin experiencing pain or bleeding, do not ignore it. You may still have sex, you no doubt by now feel effects of pregnancy, and the scent of a heat lingers on you. If we are forced to perform an emergency caesarean, or surgery upon the pup, it will take time to heal, so for now, make the most of being able to be intimate with your partner" Eren blushed beautifully at her words "Eren has always had unconventional heats. With the stress attempting to send him into heat, will it harm the pups" "An omegas heat is dependent on their mood, as well as their biology. It is important to make sure he feels comfortable and safe, a heat out of synch means they're crying out for comfort. Nesting will help, so nest as much as you like. There's absolutely no detrimental effects from nesting. There are mood stabilisers that can be prescribed, but there is a chance of side effects which may accelerate tumour growth. If the stress and pressure get to be too much, I would recommend talking to your normal physician about it. Long term use of sedatives are not recommended due to their addictive nature" He knew that all too well. That's part of the reason he hated dosing Eren unless completely necessary "Then for now, we just wait?" "I know it's a hard thing to do. But you're in this together" Turning to her laptop that was pushed to the side, Reed fell silent as she tapped away on the keyboard. Whatever she was doing, only took a few moments to finish before she printed it. Signing in multiple places, she passed the small tree over to him "One letter. I've listed the medical history you provided to our intake nurse, as well as my own conclusions from your scans, Eren. Computers are marvellous like that. Whether you use it is up to you. I strongly believe Eren should not take the stand in his current condition" Pushing her chair back, the woman rounded her desk as she bristly walked towards the door. Levi and Eren both standing to move towards the door of the room, Eren's hand firmly in his as they did "It was lovely to meet both of you" "You too. And thank you for seeing us" "And I'll you both again in four weeks time" Eren was glued to his side as they walked through the hospital and down to Levi's RangeRover. Standing beside the passenger door, Eren didn't seem to want to let him go. Raising Eren's hand to kiss the back of it, his omega let out a soft sigh "It was a lot" "It was more than a lot. I... I didn't know the other pup could be affected" "That's a worse case scenario" "Why is this happening?" A kiss on the back of the hand wasn't going to cut it. Pulling Eren into a hug, he nuzzled into his omega's neck. Eren was so very confused "I don't know. But for now, we wait" "I don't want to wait. I want the pup to be ok" "You heard what she said, they're still a little too small for surgery right now" "I don't care... they're hurting and I can't do anything" "You're doing plenty" "God. This was so much easier before I knew it was twins... before I knew it was... it was supposed to be more than twins" Eren's voice was cracking with emotions, yet as his mate began to nuzzle him back, he felt no tears "Don't give up on them yet. If they're anything like you, they'll be as stubborn as hell" "You always say I'm stubborn about all the wrong things" "Wanna know a secret? You might be stubborn as hell and drive me up the wall from time to time, but I love that stubborn streak of yours. It makes me so fucking proud that you dig your heels in, or you fight for what you believe is right" "So the next time you tell me off for being stubborn, I can ignore you" "No. That's why it's called a secret, you're not supposed to know" Eren kissed the crook of his neck "It's a good secret. I'll let you keep it. I've got one of my own" Levi was sure if he looked inside Eren's brain, he wouldn't find just one secret in there "Oh? What is that?" "I love you, Lee. And I love winding you up" "I knew it!" "Mmm. But don't tell Levi I told you" "Pfft. Like I'd do that. I love you too, Eren. Let's drop this letter into Floch, then pick up our son" "I miss him" "I know you do. I'm sorry I can't stay this afternoon" "It's alright. Work is important" "And yet, I would rather be here with you" "She said I need to be more affectionate" "You're affectionate enough" "If I was, I wouldn't be trying to go into heat. Maybe you should just force yourself on..." "I am not going to force myself on you. You my mate, not just some I sleep with. We'll start slow. Cuddles on the sofa. Sleeping next to each other. That kind of thing" "I know I smell good to you" "Then I'll jerk off. You're too important to me" "And what am I supposed to do?" "Do about what?" "When I'm..." "Oh. When you're horny?..." Slipping his hands down to Eren's arse, Levi gave a firm squeeze "You think of me" "Don't I always? What I mean is... I want to be able to touch you too. As it is, I owe you two hand jobs in the shower" "You don't owe me anything, but if you really want to make it up to me... I know how you can do that" "How?" "Give me a kiss and we'll call it even" Eren kissed his shoulder "There" "I had that coming, didn't I?" "Mmm, maybe a little. Let's go get Viren. I really want to hold him" "Do I get another kiss?" Eren kissed his shoulder again "You're a shit" "So you tell me" Pulling back from Eren's neck, Eren had a soft smile on his lips. Leaning in, Levi was finally given his kiss. A real kiss, and the deepest one they'd shared for days. Breaking the kiss, his omega pushed him back "We need to pick our son up, and I am not going anywhere near Floch, not anymore than I have to" "That's fine with me"

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