The title heading “general” may confuse you, so here’s what I mean by it: the person who requested this fic was the the one marked yet another 100 followers for us, and what we tend to do with people who are our every 100th follower is that we message them personally and write their request that week, regardless of the position of their request on the queue log (not that we always go in order, but anyways…).
Anyways, the person who requested it asked us to write a fic in which we just use the male pronoun to talk about a member, so this fic can really just apply to any member. A bit weird, I know, but hope you guys enjoy it regardless!
As requested by tetsujinlau.
I MISSED YOU GUISE :’(
Sorry I didn’t update this week… With my getting sick, I had to work overtime pretty much every day and got like 3 or 4 hours of sleep in between… So yeah, I didn’t have much time to write. I’m sorry!
But to make up for that…
…Part 2’s here~!
I’ve never tried this form before, so forgive me if it feels a bit slap-dash - I did the best I could! Looking back at it, it’s not really in drabble-form at all… But I’ll get better with time… :’)
Hide yo kids and hide yo hubbies, because the smut train is coming your way.
(it’s not as smuttastic as I know some of you like, but I think you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.)
Thelma and I decided to take a somewhat delicate approach to our scenarios this week and decided to piece together a partner-piece that’s actually a series of strung-together drabbles, which means less to read, but more gravity within the words. (I hope. LOL)
(the fact that I’ve been reading angsty drabbles all week didn’t contribute to this at all. Nope.)
She’ll be posting her part soon, so keep your eyes peeled for it! :)
With this lengthy intro aside, here’s your weekly installment! :)
Ughhhhh studying for midterms is so annoying… I wish I were working already… =__=;
Here’s the latest installment! Sorry for the wait… Hopefully your weeks are better than mine!
As requested by anon.
“I told you that you shouldn’t have pushed yourself so much…” you groan, as you take the thermometer out from Yoochun’s mouth. “102 degrees Farenheit… Well, at least it’s better than before.”
Yoochun smiles faintly. “Couldn’t… let… my fans down… you know?”
You let out a sigh. “Of course… But you need to look after yourself better than this!” Wringing out the cloth inside the basin on Yoochun’s bedside table, you dab at his forehead and jawline slowly. “You’re letting your fans down by being sick too, you know that?”
“Sorrrrrrry, doctor…” Yoochun slurs out, not opening his eyes. “Aren’t… nurses supposed to do this kind of thing?”
“Yeah…” you say, dipping the cloth into the basin again to wring it out. “But there’s a huge surgery going on right now in the Cardiac Ward, and they needed all the nurses they could get. Not to mention, it’s almost three in the morning… Here, open wide.”
Yoochun opens his mouth as you pop two pills into his mouth. You press a glass of water up to his lips, and he swallows slowly.
He lets out a small sigh, and rolls his head back. “Kinda… tired…”
Nodding, you help him lie back into his bed. “Yeah, get some sleep.” You dab at other areas of his face with the cloth, and his breathing becomes more and more even as his eyelids quiver slightly.
The sound of his even breathing is your only response. Smiling, you run your hand across his cheek slowly before you catch yourself and pull away.
Scooting your chair closer to him, you lean over and examine his face closely for the first time - his long, thick eyelashes splayed out under his eyes; his cheeks, tinted pink from his fever; the small amounts of stubble growing on his upper lip and lower chin; his chapped, slightly-parted, full lips.
His boyish charm draws you in, and yet serves as a bittersweet reminder of how he was forced to grow up so quickly at a young age…
…which had inadvertently put him the condition he was in now, before you, on the hospital cot.
Seeing him in such a condition makes your heart wrench. Why did he always have to push himself to the point of such exhaustion? Why did he have to be the type of person to ignore and drink away his feelings, until he was forced to confront them? Why couldn’t he just learn to levy his burdens on others more, entrusting parts of himself to people who cared about him and loved him so earnestly —
— people like you?
You let out a sigh, and run your thumb over Yoochun’s hand gently. Here you were, calling the kettle black.
You remember Yoochun saying the same exact things to you - almost word-for-word - to you so many times, when you’d passed out from exhaustion or when you’d let your stress pile up within you without venting, when the two of you attended secondary school together. How many times had he asked you what was troubling you? How many times had he worried about you because you’d lied when he asked how you were - he always knew when you were lying - and couldn’t bear to force your burdens out of you? How many times had he pleaded with you to let him in, both directly and indirectly?
And how many times had you rejected his pleas, because you had been afraid of the feelings that you had toward him?
Yes, you’d known since a very long time ago - you’d fallen in love with Yoochun without realizing it. Without meaning to. He’d crept into your heart, little by little, and had carved out a space for himself that nobody else could take, before you could realize what was happening.
And yet, whenever you want to tell him just what is on your mind, your heart feels too heavy and your mouth feels too dry to form the right words.
Your fear of rejection clenches at the shred of hope in your heart then, and you squeeze Yoochun’s hand without meaning to, emitting a groan from the sleeping boy — no, man. Looking at him now - his taller, more confident build, his large limbs, his firm hands - there was no mistaking it.
When had he grown into a man?
You look at him closely again, taking all of him in, almost reveling at the work that time had done on him. Where had his youthful awkwardness and his lankiness went?
“I… I’m sorry…” you hear him murmur, and you almost jump back as his voice interrupts your reverie.
“I’m sorry…” he says again, not opening his eyes. “I didn’t… want to be hospitalized… to see you…”
You feel a bittersweet pain beginning to fill your heart. Of course; why would he want to come here to see you? Even though you were too afraid to ask, there was no doubt in your mind that Yoochun had already met another girl - a girl who was on a totally different level than you - to woo over.
“To see you… I wanted… to see you so much, I…” you hear him say, and you pale. You’re not sure you want to hear the rest of what he has to say, and you let go of his hand before getting up to leave the room.
“Wait…” he says, hoarsely, reaching up to grab your hand. “Listen… please…”
Shocked, you freeze. What is he doing?
“I… When I was on tour…” he murmurs, opening his eyes as he sits up gradually. “All I could think about was how much I wanted… to see you… I didn’t think… I’d have to be hospitalized to see you…” he says, with a dry chuckle.
You turn around to face him, with unidentifiable, alien emotions swerving around inside your heart. “But… why…?”
He lets out a small sigh, and curves his lips up laboriously into a small smile. “It’s you… It’s always been you. How could I tell you about… my problems and stuff when you were the root of them?”
You open your mouth to speak, but Yoochun shakes his head.
“Your smile haunting my dreams at night… and on my mind all day… as I sang those love songs in front of thousands of fans…” he croaks out, coughing a bit. “I was thinking of you… didn’t even know… what to say to you when I saw you…”
“But I know… these words that I’d been hiding from for so long… these simple words… They’re so simple… but they’re the only ones that fit.” He pulls you closer to him, and tucks a strand of your hair back.
“I love you.”
He struggles to sit up, and you rush to push him back down. “No, Yoochun, you need to lie down—”
“Stop avoiding how you feel…” he murmurs. “I know you… You’re like me… Always running… always…”
You place your hand on his chest and crouch down to kiss his heated forehead, then let out a sigh. “I-I… I…”
Yoochun doesn’t answer, and you assume that is his silent way of goading you on.
“I… I love you too… Yoochun…” you murmur into his forehead, squinting your eyes shut, as your words set your cheeks ablaze. “I…. I don’t know how long I have, but I—”
Your heartfelt confession is interrupted by a large snoring sound, coming from below you. Paling, you pull away and look down, only to see that he is fast asleep once again. As heat floods your cheeks, you close your eyes and shake your head.
“This… idiot… I’m never going to say it again!” you yell. You scribble, “YOU IDIOT!” in large, conspicuous letters on a piece of paper on his nightstand before stomping out…
…but if you’d looked at him once more before leaving, you would’ve caught the faintest of smiles playing on his lips as he hugged a pillow to himself in sheer giddiness.
Our first official post on our LJ! I’m totally psyched~
We’ll still be maintaining our Tumblr, but the full text of my scenarios will be only hosted there. So click here to get there.
With that, sorry for posting this so late! I just got home a few hours ago… I fucking hate airplanes….
Speaking of fucking… Heh. ;)
DON’T CLICK IF YOU’RE A KIDDIE, ALL RIGHT?! THERE’S SOME SERIOUSLY MATURE CONTENT OVER THERE.
Mother-FUCK. I cannot believe that we have to write these scenarios over again… I fucking hate tumblr. asoifhhfoAOSSDOIHGOIASFHOIASHFOIASDO
Sorry for the delay, but I kept on falling in sleep in between… Hopefully, I haven’t made any extraordinarily appalling mistakes… I’ll check it over tomorrow.
…And with that, here’s the third installment of our weekly series!
PS: to the original requestor - I’d originally written a smoldering sex scene but am too beat to re-write it. I’m sorry! Maybe I’ll revisit this and include it… But til then, please enjoy ;_; Sorry for the shit-writing today. Sigh…
RATED M for slightly adultish situations.
IT’S HERE! YOUR FIX OF YOOCHUN-SMUT IS HEREEE~~
Sorry for uploading so late, guys… Tumblr wasn’t working for me for a couple of hours… JISHDISDHGIHSIDG.
With that said, here’s Thelma’s special remedy to blue ovaries~! Hehehe~
Warning: NC-17. Not kid-friendly. If you’re not cool with such things, turn away.
As requested by anon. Enjoy~
Ah, and in case you were wondering, the song is “Something” by The Beatles.
You are standing in front of an old record shop in your town. You’d always passed by the run-down place, wondering what sorts of mysteries it could be housing. And when you had gotten a day off work for the first time in a while, you had decided that now was a good time as any to explore the shop that you’d wanted to visit for so long.
At first, you are taken aback upon closer inspection of the shop; the door is painted over and the windows are double-sided mirrors, which prevents any passerby - such as yourself - from peeking in. “Is it worth risking my life to satiate my curiosity…?” You stare at the door for a few seconds more, pondering. Your curiosity, however, gets the best of you; and before you know it, you’re pulling the door open - made of glass, but opaque due to it being painted over with black paint - and step inside.
When you let the door close behind you and turn around to face the inside of the store for the first time, however, your jaw drops. It’s nothing like you expected. The interior of the shop is split into two: one side has boxes and boxes of records, all organized by genre, artist, then in alphabetical order; the other side has a few white round tables with two or three chairs per table. Near the tables is a bar where a huge espresso machine, tins of tea, and a rack with drink condiments rests upon. The walls of the shop are covered with meticulously painted portraits of famous rock stars, and there is even a colorful, old-school jukebox in the back for music sampling. Sure, the store isn’t too big; sure, it isn’t as pristine as it could be; but there is a sense of familiarity, of coziness in the air, and you’re beyond glad that you decided to submit to your curious desires.
“Oh hey,” a man, who emerges from the back door next to the jukebox, says, with a wide, friendly smile. He is tall, wearing a loose-fit sweater and form-fitting grey jeans that accentuate his toned figure quite well. His eyes, framed by a curtain of longish black bangs, suggest a childish sort of innocence and seem to be smiling at you as well. “My name is Yoochun, and I’m here to help you out if you’re looking for anything specific„,” Giving the bar a glance, he walks over and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Would you like something to drink? Or are you in a hurry?”
His 100-watt smile has you blushing. “Ah, yeah, tea is fine…” you stammer, not looking at him directly.
“I have a lot of different kinds here, which one would you like?” he says, with the same stunning smile. You can’t bear to meet his eyes.
“Uhmm, let me see…” you say, as you walk over toward the tea tin rack. You choose a tea with a green tea base and caramel-cranberry tones, and hand the tin to Yoochun.
“Ah, I love that one!” he says, as he reads the label and grabs a mug for your tea. “You can go and browse through the records, and I’ll bring this to you after I finish steeping it.” You nod with a shy smile, and head over aimlessly over to the Classic Rock section. Thumbing through the records, you realize that you don’t listen to any artist old enough to have made records, and feel a bit dumb. But you don’t want to leave this place just yet, so you crouch down and continue to browse without really looking. And as you are about to thumb past The Beatles’ Abbey Road LP, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.
“Here’s your tea,” he says, smiling as he crouches down beside you. You see that the steam from the tea is fogging up his glasses, and you giggle to yourself as you accept the cup gratefully. This doesn’t slip his notice and he lets out a small chuckle, too. Then, his gaze slips downward to the record that you are touching.
“Ah, Abbey Road! I didn’t know you were a Beatles gal…” he says, pulling it out of the box.
‘I’m not,’ you say mentally, ‘…but if I can talk to you longer because you think I’m a Beatles fan, I won’t complain…’
He pulls the record out of the sleeve, and blows on it gently. “What’s your favorite song on the record?” he asks. “We can put it on.”
Well, shoot. You don’t know any of the songs on the record – you barely even listen to bands like the Beatles. Glancing down at the cover quickly, you see ‘Abbey Road’ and decide that there must be a song on the record named Abbey Road, since most k-pop albums work that way.
“Ah… I like Abbey Road.” You say, taking a quick sip of tea and hiding the majority of your face behind the mug.
He gives you a weird look. “Yeah, I know, but what’s your favorite song on the record?”
You blink at him. “Abbey Road! That’s my favorite song!”
He blinks back at you, and then explodes in laughter. “Hahahahaha! Ah… haha… haha… hah… You don’t listen to the Beatles, do you?”
You shrink behind your cup. “….No….”
He brings his face closer to yours. “I’m guessing you’re more of a k-pop kind of girl, judging by the way you look.”
Your eyes widen. “H-how did you…”
He smirks. “Intuition.” He then gets up, stretching his legs, and heads toward the jukebox. “I’m guessing you’re into those sappy love songs that k-pop artists always like to sing, right?” he says, as he presses several buttons on the keypad of the machine.
“Love songs are… nice…” you say, taking another sip of tea.
Yoochun gives you a satisfied look, as he turns back to the machine. “I thought so… Now, let’s see… Hm… I think you’ll like this.” He motions you over to the café area and pulls out a chair for you to sit in, while he heads back to the bar area.
‘Something in the way she moves… Attracts me like no other lover…’ the machine croons, as you take your seat. It’s different from what you normally listen to, to say the least. But it’s a good, almost refreshing kind of different. You close your eyes and sip your tea, as you find yourself getting into the song. Yoochun comes back to where you are sitting, with a plate of chocolate cookies and a cup of tea for himself.
“You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know, I don’t know… You stick around and it may show; I don’t know, I don’t know…” he sings along softly, looking directly into your eyes. Though he isn’t singing very loudly, you can tell that he must be quite good at it.
“Something in the way she knows… And all I have to do is think of her…” he murmurs along, his eyes smiling at you.
You smile back and look down at the table to reach for a cookie, when you catch a glimpse of the time on your watch. 7:45PM. Shoot.
Yoochun notices your facial expression changing, and his own gentle smile slips off his face. “What’s the matter?” he says, unable to hide the concern in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
You smile at him apologetically. “Yeah, everything’s fine… It’s just that I have to be home by 8PM because my friend doesn’t have the key to our apartment, and she left her phone inside…”
You get up, finishing your tea. “Thank you so much! I’m really glad that I stopped by this place… It’s so cozy.”
“Cozy enough that you’d want to come back?” Yoochun says, with a hopeful sparkle in his eye.
You smile. “Definitely.”
“Here’s a little something to keep you company until I see you again,” he says, handing you a CD version of the Abbey Road album. You thank him, dust the cookie crumbs off your shirt, and wave goodbye with a smile as you leave.
You slip into your car and open the case to take out the CD, when a slip of paper flutters out. And when you read what it says, you blush, and then whoop in delight as you slide the CD into your car’s CD player.
“Something for my someone. I hope to see you again soon, since the CD is a rental. ;)
You’re in the city in late fall with Yoochun, one of your closest friends. Because of his hectic schedule, you don’t get to see him too often – so when you do see him, the two of you spend hours on end talking to each other, filling each other in on what’s been going on. Thankfully, not many of his fans are out and about in this area of the city, as he’s only been approached by fangirls two or three times.
It’s a cloudy day, but a pleasant kind of cloudy day in the sense that the air isn’t too humid and there is a gentle breeze in the air. It’s the perfect day for walking around aimlessly whilst window shopping and chattering about everything and nothing, just as the two of you are doing.
“A-and… hahaha… Can you believe it? Jaejoong-hyung got so angry when he thought our manager broke his elephant phone strap, but it had actually been Junsu!” he laughs. “Ah man, hanging out with the two of them most of the time is pretty funny.”
You smile back. “I’m glad that the three of you are so close… It’s nice to know that I can trust them to take good care of my Yoochun because I can’t be there!”
“Your Yoochun? You mean, Cassiopeia’s Yoochun… You can’t hold me down just yet when there are thousands of ardent hearts beating for me!” he says jokingly, with a wink. You roll your eyes in mock exasperation and the two of you giggle again before continuing down the street.
Then, he looks up thoughtfully. “You know, now that you mention it, I’ve been a bachelor for a long time… I should get a girlfriend soon.”
You feel a small, painful pang at the pit of your heart at the thought that the to-be-girlfriend he is talking about won’t be you. But you retaliate with a toothy smile instead, burying your feelings. You don’t want to destroy what you have with him just because of your selfishness of wanting more than being mere friends.
“Ah, yeah… I should get a boyfriend soon, too!” you say, with a forced smile. “Damn… I’ve been holding off the crazy suitors ringing my doorbell for quite a while, but if you’re gonna get a girlfriend, I can’t be single for too long, or I’ll be lonely! Hahaha!”
You turn your head and face the street, missing the pain that shoots through his eyes for a mere second. “Ah yeah!” he says, laughing too. “Maybe I can introduce you to someone nice… Although it is a shame, since you might be too good for them…”
You blush faintly. Had he just implied that he liked you?
“Nah… Why would he want to date someone as boring and ordinary as me, when he’s a world-famous celebrity?” You think, as the dull pain thuds in your heart. You shake your head and toss the silly thought aside, before following his stride once more. The two of you try to ignore the awkward air that has come about due to the previous discussion about each others’ love lives as the two of you feign extreme fascination at the mundane store window displays that you two pass.
You look away from another window display – uninteresting, just like the last – when you see someone you really don’t want to see.
“Dammit!” You curse, as you try to hide behind Yoochun. Being ever-intuitive, he notices and turns around to see you peeking out behind him.
“Is there something wrong?” he says, scanning the general area you are with a confused glance.
“There!” you hiss, “Over there! That skinny guy in the grey sweatshirt and huge glasses… He’s the one I broke up with because he cheated on me…”
Yoochun glances over at the area you are pointing at – it’s a quaint little café, and your ex is sharing a cup of coffee with a beautiful girl at a window-seat.
You sigh a shuddering sigh. “We used to go there all the time… I took him there because it used to be my favorite coffee place when I first moved here. And now, I can’t go there anymore because he ruined that place for me…” Narrowing his eyes, Yoochun grabs your hand firmly and strides toward the coffee shop.
“Wait… Wait, Yoochun… Yoochun! What are you doing?!” you say, panicking. “I’m trying to avoid him, not run straight-on into him!”
“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink without slowing down. “Just go along with it, okay?” He pulls you into the coffee shop, and you can feel your ex’s eyes on you. You give him a sideways glance and see that he’s whispering something into the other girl’s ear.
Yoochun takes you to the bar, where they have free samples of the café’s newest coffee blend. “Mmmm, Christmas Gingerbread Blend! That sounds good, right?” he says, holding up a dixie cup-sized sample. You nod distractedly, feeling your ex’s eyes drilling holes into you.
Yoochun notices that you’re distracted, and frowns. “You want to try some, hon?” he says, interlacing his fingers with yours. You give him another distant nod. With his free hand, he brings the small cup of coffee to his lips. And in a fluid motion, he puts the cup down, takes your face in his hand, and kisses you with an uninhibited, raw passion.
At first, you stiffen up in surprise. However, you quickly ease into the kiss and put your hand on his face. He pulls apart from you for a second, and gives you a look of pure longing and love before capturing your lips with his once again. You taste the Christmas Gingerbread coffee blend on his tongue and find that it is, indeed, quite delicious; but the taste of the coffee pales in comparison to Yoochun’s own taste of smoky vanilla.
You feel both your ex and his girlfriend staring at the two of you from afar. Yoochun, not missing a single beat, interlaces his fingers with yours once again and takes you over to the table where your ex and his girlfriend are sitting.
“Pleased to meet both of you, you might’ve heard of me. My name is Yoochun Park, but people know me as Micky Yoochun.” Your ex looks at him cautiously, shaking the hand that Yoochun extends. Your ex’s girlfriend is much more eager, shaking Yoochun’s hand with two hands, with much vigor.
“So, you’re my girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend… The one who shamelessly cheated on her with five other girls. Well, I’ll have to thank you for that, because she broke up with your jerk ass and is dating me now.”
Yoochun wraps his arm around your shoulder, and kisses your forehead. “I hope you burn in hell, you son of a bitch.” He says to your ex, with a cold glare. He shoots him a wicked grin and takes your hand once again, leading you out of the café.
As the two of you leave, you hear your ex’s girlfriend saying, “You cheated on the girl who is Micky Yoochun’s girlfriend with five other girls? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”
The two of you walk on the street, hand-in-hand, as the sky begins to turn a purple-orange and the streetlights begin to glow. After a few blocks without a word between the two of you, you look at him, intending to ask him why he did that – but he beats you to it, turning toward you and taking both your shoulders in his hands. The look in his eyes – one of unmuted, pure love – makes your heart skip, if only for a moment.
“I… I actually like you.” He says, looking away. “Actually, I love you. A lot. And every time you told me about another boy you were crushing on or another boy that broke your heart, it broke mine…” He looks at you with an unquenchable type of desperation. “…But I couldn’t tell you… Because if you didn’t feel the same way about me, then… I’d probably never see you again.”
He lets go of your shoulders and looks down. “I’m sorry for forcing my feelings on you before, at the café. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me anymore—”
Seeing the pain in his eyes breaks your heart, and you can’t bear to hear any more. Without letting him finish, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a full, uninhibited kiss, filled with the emotions that you’d been hiding for so long.
The two of you break apart and he looks at you in awe. “You… too…?”
You smile, looking at him with the love and adoration that you had kept hidden for so long.