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laia | she/her | writing blog | multi

[minghaos-pet]

Masterlist

[M]-Mature

[F]-Fluff

[A]-Angst

[H]-Headcanons

Seventeen

Chaptered Fics

Lauda Finem -- multiple members x reader [M, A]

Ateez

Timestamps

[19:20] -- san x reader [A]

[03:19] -- yeosang x reader [F]

Chaptered Fics

Sucker Punch -- jongho x reader [M, F, A]

Stray Kids

nothing yet

[minghaos-pet]

unusual seventeen date ideas

zoolA/N: I’m posting these to fill in the space while I finish chapters for my fics. These ideas came from a ritalin-fueled afternoon so they are NOT intended to be serious. I definitely do not see any of the members engaging in these types of activities so, again, none of this is serious

Warnings: criminal activity, theft, “”borrowing””, mentions of drugs (no drug use), pyramid schemes, some softness and fluff, brief mentions of police (acab), mentions of trash, mentions of food, heights

stealing bikes with seungcheol

seungcheol would pick you up precisely at 5am from outside your house, he would drive you through some quiet suburban neighborhoods (so romantique) and you'd pick off any bikes, trikes, and (if you're really lucky) electric scooters you find sitting outside the pristine homes of the neighborhood. Then you both would spend the whole day at the local park having fun and trading the bikes you stole to kids for their drones, ice cream cones, lunch money, whatever you want! the options are limitless when you're stealing bikes with seungcheol.

dumpster diving with jeonghan

your dates with jeonghan usually consisted of going out to fancy restaurants and getting something to eat, most definitely in multiple courses. "let's try something different," jeonghan suggested when you popped the nightly question of what do you want to eat. Much to your surprise and delight, jeonghan drove you in his 2014 white honda civic to applebee's, one of your favorite establishments. "are we getting potato skins?" "haha," he chuckled with a light behind his eyes, "something like that." he parked behind the building and opened the door for you, leading you to the dumpsters. before you could process what was going on. jeonghan had whipped the dumpster lid open and was scaling the side of the structure.  you spent the rest of the evening going from place to place, scoring new makeup palettes and other goodies. needless to say, it was amazing how many potato skins your local applebee's threw out everyday.

squatting in abandoned buildings with joshua

joshua was the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend you could ever ask for. he was constantly waiting on you hand and foot and taking you on lavish vacations. however, you were growing tired of trips to dubai and paris, and wanted to go on a more rugged, adventure vacation. you brought it up to him and he smiled at you, reading your mind. two weeks later, joshua surprised you with an uber ride to the nearest abandoned Kmart in your town, giddy with excitement, you found that he had already bolt-cut the padlock on the expansive automatic doors. You spent the night walking up and down the aisles before going up to the roof. unfortunately, the door to the roof locked automatically, trapping you on top of the kmart.  you and joshua spent the rest of your stay pointing out constellations and falling asleep under the stars before crafting a makeshift rope out of your own clothes to get down the building.

climbing things with jun

jun was a man of many hobbies and recreations, and climbing was one of them. every thursday and sunday night junhui would shake you out of bed and drag you to the nearest climbable structure. ladders, fences, even flights of stairs that led to god-knows-where. one sunday night, jun with excitement and anticipation coursing through his veins, he woke you up and ran out of bed so fast he barely had time to put on his shoes, not even noticing that he was wearing his old gucci slides on the wrong feet. "i have a good feeling about this one," he assured you while you ran through the night, finally approaching a cellular tower. without warning, jun began to climb and climb and climb, leaving you scrambling to get your foothold on the tower. once at the top, jun held your hand while you shivered against the wind. "y/n, look!" he shouted and pointed frantically at the ocean before you. "what is it?" "let's find out." wading through the ocean together, you struggled to keep up with his freestyle swimming towards your next target. it was an oil rig. oh junhui, you thought and smiled, what a character. you came back to the rig every thursday and sunday night, that is, before you were arrested by the coast guard, of course. classic junhui.

zoological warfare with soonyoung

it was no secret that soonyoung loved (and you mean loved) tigers. tiger stuffed animals filled your couches, bed, and dining room chairs; tiger paintings custom commissioned and worth thousands adorned your walls, and tiger videos from animal planet and other sources played night and day on your 100 inch television. Soonyoung cultivated his appreciation for the big cat by playing Zoo Tycoon on his laptop, so much that you practically had to rip the mouse out of his hand and threatened to burn the fifteen year old cd-rom. "soonyoungie," you cooed one afternoon, "i have a better idea than playing zoo tycoon..." immediately his eyes darkened, he knew exactly what you were talking about. You'd been to the zoo so many times before, but this time was different. While Soonyoung oohed and awwed at the tigers in their habitat, you reminded him of the real reason why you were at the zoo that late afternoon. Wire cutters in hand you were quick to disable the motion sensors and electric fences surrounding the enclosure. His deliciously built muscles strained while he pulled open the large fence, "you're free now," he whispered to himself. you both ran out of the habitat and back into the more populated areas of the zoo. words can't describe the elation soonyoung felt while he watched his favorite animals prance into the crowd, finally able to be their true selves.

recreating fahrenheit 451 with wonwoo

wonwoo loved his books more than anything else in his life, except, of course, you. he was halfway through his favorite book when the thought hit him like a ton of bricks. i have to recreate this with y/n, he thought to himself. He read for a couple more hours--not wanting to lose the plot of his favorite dystopian novel--before seeking you out. "y/n," he patted the top of your head lightly, "have you ever read fahrenheit 451?" "of course," you replied, smiling at your silly boyfriend, "we all had to read it in high school." not twenty minutes later were you and wonwoo elbows deep in the pile of books you had stacked in the middle of the alley by your apartment.

scalping concert tickets with jihoon

jihoon was a master producer, everyone knew it. The only thing he loved more than producing was making money, and you and your determined boyfriend were constantly jumping from one side-hustle to another. One of jihoon’s favorite side-hustles was printing fake concert tickets and selling them at the same venues he performed at. It was a two-in-one package, he used to tell you when you were hesitant about the legalities of such a practice. He’d sell tickets for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars, a few hours before a performance and then he’d run inside, get ready, and perform himself! After a while, you stopped noticing the angry crowds that would gather outside the venues during shows and you let yourself enjoy the show from backstage surrounded by a heavy stack of cash. The best part was, you didn’t have to pay taxes on it!

Jihoon could do a number of jobs all at once, from starting etsy stores to mowing lawns for a couple extra dollars, but by far this was his favorite technique. With the money he made he could buy you the extravagances you deserved.

joining an MLM with seokmin

Seokmin was all about the newest, greatest thing. When Jihoon came by one day and told him all about his experience selling essential oils at house parties, seokmin was instantly hooked on the prospect. It took you a little bit of convincing, but after watching your boyfriend steal the show with suburban housewives at the parties he hosted, you knew you had to support him in every way you could. It took a second mortgage on your house and two paycheck advancements, but you were able to build up enough stock of essential oils from the headquarters to fill up your spare room. Party after party you and Seokmin gave out samples after samples, freebies galore, but you were never able to fully deplete the millions of bottles of clove oil and the blends seokmin swore would make you both rich. Even though you never broke even, you loved your new life with seokmin. You had to sell your house and live out of a mini-van you found abandoned on the highway, but it gave you and seokmin a great supply of #VanLife instagram posts.

grand theft auto with mingyu

Dating mingyu was always thrilling and there was always something exciting happening whenever you were together. Tonight was no different, as mingyu promised you that he was taking you out to get a new car. You were ecstatic, having only dated mingyu three and a half weeks, it was a little soon for such extravagant gifts like a whole car, but you weren’t one to complain and you certainly did not want to hurt his feelings.

The music blared loudly while you flew down the freeway in the new drop-top audi Mingyu got for you. You were a little worried when the car dealer insisted on coming with you for the test drive, but Mingyu’s charm and quick thinking, the dealer was nothing to worry about. Mingyu turned the radio up even higher when the sirens approached, adding to the thrill of the night.

“The lights make you look so pretty,” Mingyu fawned from the driver’s seat, “we should do this more often.”

You turned around to look behind you, the wind chapping your lips and whipping your hair, smiling. 

you’ve always wanted a police escort.

borrowing from designer stores with minghao

minghao's sense of style was unparalleled, and being his significant other, you were privy to plenty of style and fashion advice. not that you minded, of course, because minghao would usually get so fed up with your disastrous outfits that he would let you wear his own clothes to save time and hassle. "y/n," minghao sighed after watching you put layer three jackets on top of each other, "we're going shopping. I'm going to teach you how to buy clothes." the places minghao shopped were unbelievable; while you usually bought your clothes off of Wish and Aliexpress, minghao was a well-known regular at versace, hermes, louis vuitton, and every other designer you could think of. your minimum wage paycheck could in no way sponsor these purchases, so you were completely reliant on minhao for these types of shopping trips. once in gucci, minghao pulled his bucket hat lower, covering his eyes and instructing you to do the same. he swung around the large umbrella he carried with him to the shops (confusing since it was not raining), and you watched him drop item after item into the half opened umbrella. astonished and amazed, you grabbed a wallet off of the shelf and attempted to pocket it discretely, but were caught by security. You watched as minghao left the store while you were being interrogated by the mall security. Lucky for you, you were able to get away safely and caught up with minghao to grab a pretzel before leaving the mall.

hitchhiking to jeju with seungkwan

there wasn't a day that went by when seungkwan didn't miss home: the tangerine groves, the crisp sea air, and Hallasan mountain. on one of his routine pining sessions, you had the brightest idea you'd had in a very long time, it was your chance to finally go on a much needed trip with Seungkwan to the place he loved most. You whipped out yours and his favorite and most reliable tennis shoes, grabbed a bottle of water to share, and set on your way. Despite the heat and exhaustion, seungkwan was overjoyed to be on his way to Jeju, especially to be able to go there with you and show you his old stomping grounds. As you both walked, thumbs out, you found refuge in a few nice strangers' cars. Seungkwan loved the economical nature of your trip and you loved the fact that you got to spend it with him.

cult-hopping with vernon

vernon had some...interesting hobbies and past-times, but being his significant other you loved to share these moments with him, even if they were a little strange at moments. something that vernon had always, and he meant  a l w a y s wanted to do was something he called "cult-hopping" where the two of you would spend a few months to a year joining cult after cult just to understand and learn the ins-and-outs of each organization before leaving and moving onto the next one. For the first few weeks, the experience was painfully slow, but after you'd moved on to your fourth (or was it fifth?) cult, you began to develop the understand and appreciation for it that vernon always hoped you would. You drank kool-aid, had communal baths, and even shared in some unusual choices of meals. It warmed your heart t be able to spend this much needed time with vernon, and he was happy to learn more about cults.

drug trafficking with chan

airports were your absolute favorite place, something about them made you feel so comforted and at home. with chan there to hold your hand through security and sew up secret pockets in your luggage, it felt extra special. you weren't new to the drug trafficking scene, and found it as a lovely way to make some extra money when funds were tight; although chan was definitely not in need of money due to his idol career, he still loved to see what you did best. He watched a few youtube tutorials and already he was a pro at getting through security and past the drug dogs. You marveled at how chan even bent down to pet a few of the canine officers, amazed at his composure throughout the whole process. If things went well this trip, you knew that your boss would ask him to join the ranks, meaning you and chan could fly, take trains, and travel whenever and wherever you wanted.

[minghaos-pet]

the san timestamp is an absolute masterpiece. thank you so much for writing it. can i request a yeosang fluff?

thank u so much for the request 💖

it’s posted here

[minghaos-pet]

fluff

[03:19]

we lay there together, his fingers laced with mine and his free hand absentmindedly played with my hair--he knew how much i loved that. i opened my mouth to speak, but stopped, the fluttering of my heart in my chest was more overpowering than any urge i had to say anything. it was dark, but i knew he was looking at me and part of me felt like he might be thinking the same thing i was...might be.

it had only been a month since we started dating, and even though i moved notoriously fast, this was something different...stronger, it felt like...but what did i know? "yeosang?" I half-whispered, but the screaming in my brain drowned out my voice, i kinda hoped he hadn't heard me.

"yes, princess?" fuck.

"never mind," i smiled to myself, soft enough that he couldn't see it. i should keep this a secret, it wouldn't do anyone any good for me to drop this on him at 3am on a weeknight. but...he might be thinking the same thing i was.

"you want to say something, don't you." it was pretty obvious that he knew, but i feigned ignorance, my hands felt sweaty, which i'm sure he was aware of. i shifted slightly, but his leg draped over me prevented my from going too far. i shook my head and smiled innocently. "babe?" he knew.

"i don't know..." i untangled my hand from his and sat up, his leg slid off of me and i wrung my hands in the dark; my near-empty apartment felt like it was swallowing me, the mattress i was sitting on was on the floor burying me alive...."i guess i just...i might love you."

time stood still for a few seconds, i could feel his brain working, i could feel his tension. was it good tension? bad tension? in the moments following i felt pretty much nothing, my heart stopped beating, my thoughts stopped swirling, the only thing that convinced me i was alive was the involuntary wringing of my hands.

"i think i love you too."

"oh." it was all i could say; i'm not sure what i expected, honestly.

"it's so early though," he sat up too, i looked at him, the whites of his eyes visible in the night.

"now that we've got that out of the way, let's just never say it again," it was genius. i was genius. the pressure was off of both of our shoulders now, i didn't have to commit myself to him anymore than i already had, and he could pretend like nothing had ever happened. he nodded in agreeance, acknowledging that it was the perfect plan; we could wait and say it when we really meant it, rather than when we're influenced by the late summer night. we could go back to being a more-than-friendly couple that had tricked each other into agreeing to date officially. i laid back down, and he followed suit, wrapped his arms around me and again, his leg over my body. i breathed heavily, completely enamored, and he nuzzled his face into my hair.

"i love you," he whispered, soft enough that i just barely heard it.

[minghaos-pet]

Sucker Punch Masterlist

Fighter!Jongho x Reader

Warnings: eventual smut, violence, detailed description of physical injuries

chapter 1

[minghaos-pet]

angst + softness

[19:20]

He felt so warm and safe next to you, a space between you on the couch. It took everything in you to not break into tears and lean into him, let him rub your back or play with your hair like he always did...your cold exterior resisting any chances to break to the point you wondered if he even knew that you cared.

“I-” you choke out, emotion closing your throat and a sob heaving in your chest.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he didn’t turn his head to face you, why did he still feel so warm, “not if you don’t mean it.”

“Can we,” you swallowed your anxiety and sadness and panic and every other negative and hurt feeling you felt (which was all of them), “can we just pretend?”

San turned to you this time, his hand falling on the space on the sofa between you. Tears swam down his cheeks and dripped down his chin and stained his shirt, but his voice was steady, “do you honestly want to?”

You nodded and, although you couldn’t allow yourself to cry, another hiccuped sob ran through your upper body. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it immediately, your throat was tense and your hands shook.

“Okay,” San said after some moments of crushing silence, the submittal soaking his voice. He wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand and sighed, “okay,” he repeated.

“Can I touch you?”

He didn’t respond verbally, only looked at you with tired eyes that told you it was okay, for now at least. You hesitated before wrapping your hands around his waist and laying your head on his lap, facing him; you pressed your face into his shirt and allowed yourself to cry finally. His hand on your head encouraged you to continue, his breathing rocking you slowly and his heartbeat so hard you honed in on it easily, letting yourself drift into a space of nothingness. He inhaled deeply, his hand leaving your head to push his hair back, “we can pretend.”

“I miss you,” you breathed against him.

“I miss you too, baby.”

masterlist

[minghaos-pet]

omg sucker punch is so good i cant wait for more!

thank you so much!!! I really appreciate the feedback <3

[scoupsy-remade]

🥳 Happy birthday to the world’s best boy 🥳

[minghaos-pet]

Lauda Finem♤Introduction

Seventeen Multi-chapter Fic

Reader (Y/N) x Seventeen (multiple member relationships)

Warnings: cults, religion and religious groups, eventual side character death, eventual smut, General Sense of Danger (?)

Chapters: unknwon

I squeezed my eyes closed as tight as I could, heart pounding in my chest and blood rushing through my head, making it throb. I held back every urge to reach my hand out for him, to grab his shirt or his hair or something, any sort of contact.

“I-” his voice caught in his throat and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was probably feeling the same way I was, “it’s gonna be okay, y/n. Just...don’t …” his voice trailed off. There were no directions this time, no guidance whispered from lips to cheek or through the pulses and squeezes of clasped hands. The time for frivolities was over, there was no room for anything but fear and, probably for a brief second, loneliness. I didn’t want to open my eyes, I wanted to keep them closed and fall asleep and wake up safe in a bed that belonged to me with a lover that did too. “Look at me,” he sounded so weak, “please.”

When I forced my eyes open I saw exactly what I expected, the bright red dots lit up our bodies like christmas trees, and for an instant it almost made me laugh. I looked over the edge of the building, wondering if Jeonghan was down there waiting. If he wasn’t, we were dead either way.

“Mingyu,” I looked up to him without moving my head, “are you ready?” My voice was lighter, more innocent than I wanted it to sound, but the look on his face told me that he was comforted slightly, tears stained his cheeks just like they did mine and all I wanted to do was run my fingers over his face and--

“Three,” my trance was broken, “two.”

“I’ll see you,” I said, just in case.

“One.”

Previous ♤ Next

Masterlist | 1 |

[minghaos-pet]

sucker punch (1/?)

eventual smut

group: ateez

member: fighter!jongho

word count: 3k

warnings: violence, language, sexual suggestion, drug use, fear???

“Can you not drive any smoother?” Jongho groaned beside you, clutching his side and wincing each time you drove over a bump or pothole.

“I’m trying my best,” you glared at him for a short while, “it’s not my fault the roads are fucked up.”

“You could at least try to avoid them,” he spat, “I’m fucking dying in your passenger seat.”

“No you’re not,” you clenched your jaw trying to look as steely as possible, but deep down you had to admit you were a little worried he actually was dying in the seat next to you.

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed amidst a sharp exhale as the road beneath you turned from pocked asphalt to straight gravel and sand. The car bounced violently along and your face was practically pressed against the windshield trying to see the road in front of you enough to avoid rocks.

“I need to turn the lights on,” you reached for the knob when his hand shot out in protest, “I can’t see a goddamn thing on the road, Jongho.” All he could do in response was whine, too agonized and exhausted to form words. Regardless of his lack-of-response, you didn’t turn the lights on, knowing that if you did your chances of being stopped by any stray cops would raise tenfold. An injured-Jongho was one thing to deal with, having someone dig through your car in the middle of the night was another. “Are we--”

“Stop the car,” he interrupted and swung the door open as you slammed on the brakes, practically throwing yourself across his lap to prevent him from rolling out of the car as he vomited outside the open door. After a minute or two he righted himself, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and pulled the door closed.

“You good?” You looked at him with (mostly fake) disgust.

“Fuck you,” he smiled weakly as you pressed on the gas, “I think I ruptured my spleen.”

You bit your lip and kept silent, continuing to drive the last couple miles to your destination. A ruptured spleen, or any other medical malady that could bring Jongho practically to his knees hurling onto a dirt road was far from good. You knew the medic you were visiting could fix up some lacerations, a broken rib or two, but something more internally damaging was out of the question as far as you were concerned. “Jongho…” your voice was quiet and riddled with anxiety, you looked over at him, his forehead drenched in sweat, lip split, and bloody knuckled pressed tightly against his right side, “should I take you to a hospital?”

In the darkness you could see his eyes soften as much as they could, “I’m fine, baby,” you could hear the effort he was making to hide the pain in his voice, “I’m just being a bitch, is all.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and refocused on the road, scared that if you tried to speak your voice would crack. Your relationship with Jongho was complicated, and definitely not one that either of you filled with emotions. You found him a year ago when he needed a manager, someone to allocate his earnings and pay-off his debts, patch up any injuries, someone to fuck if the occasion called for it. For 13 months you’d done exactly that, he paid you relatively handsomely (but you always snuck a little extra cash if you could) and it got you out of the depressive post-grad hole you’d been trapped in. It was mutualism at its finest.

When you pulled up to the house the lights outside were off. They were supposed to be on. You parked the car in the driveway and watched Jongho swing the door open and struggle greatly to exit the vehicle, if the circumstances weren’t as pressing you might have laughed at him and thought it was cute. “Do you need help?” You asked.

“No, y/n, I can exit a fucking car on my own,” you watched him struggle for a few more seconds before he turned to you pouting, “...yes, please.”

You sighed and slammed your door behind you, walking around the front of the car to Jongho; “where can I not touch?” 

“Avoid my entire right side if you can, and my shoulder’s a little rough too, but not as bad.” You wrapped your arm around his back and under his shoulder as gently as you could, preparing for his weight as you helped him slide out of the car, “you might have to help me walk too,” he said sheepishly as you did your best to close the door behind you and lock the car.

“Anything for you,” you rolled your eyes and sarcastically smiled at him, hoping he was smiling back in the dark. When you reached the door of the mobile home you knocked quietly, not wanting to wake up any neighborhood dogs. You were about to knock again when the porch light flickered on and the door opened slowly. “You’re late. I thought you died along the way,” the gruff man in front of you said to Jongho, ignoring your presence entirely...not that you were complaining; it was better to be invisible in situations like this.

“Yeah,” Jongho shot you a glance and in the yellow light you could see the blood caked on his cheekbone, “she can’t fucking drive, I guess.” You transferred Jongho to the man in front of you, relieved to let your shoulders and back have a break. The house was small and poorly decorated. A box of medical supplies set on a dining room table next to a glass of water and a picture of an old 1970s grandma. Jongho collapsed into the pulled-out chair and you helped him take off his shirt while the other man washed his hands. “So what’s wrong with you this time? You look like shit.” He asked from the kitchen. “I think I have a broken or bruised rib and maybe a ruptured spleen,” Jongho kicked his shoes off under the table, “but nothing too serious other than that. Might need to pop my shoulder back in though.”

“Can’t do anything for a ruptured spleen,” he responded, “needa go to the hospital for that one or you’ll bleed out internally in a day or so.”

You gulped, feeling the anxiety raise in your body once more. You stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, disappearing nicely into the ugly floral wallpaper. You could have sworn Jongho’s eyes flicked up to you, but you weren’t completely sure.

“Well then,” Jongho placed his hand on the table, “I’m sure there’s no ruptured spleen here.”

“If you get nauseous or pass out you should be worried.”

The doctor--could you call him a doctor?--stitched up Jongho’s face and looked at his side, pushing slightly on the purple flesh as Jongho’s face screwed in pain. Surprisingly, he was quiet though, a glaring contrast to the whiny, annoying mess you drove for an hour and a half through the dark. You wrung your hands, wondering if you should tell the doctor more details about what happened; surely it would allow Jongho to get the care he needed, even if it wasn’t pertaining to his bruised ribs or cut up face. “Um,” you squeaked from the corner and cleared your throat to speak clearly, “he did throw up on the way here...could that be a spleen-thing?”

Jongho looked up at you and gave you a look that told you you should have kept your mouth shut.

“Next time don’t bring your mouthy girl,” the doctor glared at you for an instant, “I don’t like people telling me how to do my job.”

“Not my girl,” Jongho said flatly, “woulda left the bitch at home anyway if I could move without feeling like I was gonna keel over dead.” He looked at you while he said it, his voice monotonous but his eyes apologetic. You crossed your arms over your chest, you knew he didn’t mean it, but it still didn’t feel good to be disrespected like that.

“What’s her name?” The doctor asked Jongho and looked you up and down more thoroughly.

“Don’t--”

“It’s y/n,” you cut him off, receiving the harshest warning look from Jongho. He shook his head slightly, but you didn’t pick up on it. The doctor pushed his chair back and stood up, walking slowly towards you while you sunk further into the wall, Jongho went to move as well, but his condition left him glued to the chair.

“How much?” He asked Jongho, but his focus maintained on you, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Not for sale.” You could hear the resentment drip from Jongho’s tongue. A twisted part of you wished you could see through the man and watch Jongho get angrier, the way his fists balled up and his jaw set.

“Then get out of my fucking house,” the doctor backed away from you and made his way back to Jongho.

“W-what?” You were confused and a little frightened, even though you knew better.

“Get out of my fucking house,” he repeated, “unless you having something to offer me I’m not in the mood for guests.”

“Just wait outside, y/n,” Jongho said exasperatedly, “I’ll be done soon.”

You gave him one last look before crossing to the door, dragging your feet over the threshold and onto the small porch. Moths fluttered around the porch light and you could hear insects in the trees behind the road, you sighed deeply as you squatted down, your back against the laminate siding of the mobile home. You reached into your coat pocket for your phone before remembering you left it in the car...the locked car. The key to which was on the dining room table of a man who kicked you out of his house to sit outside alone in the cold. “I’ll never hear the end of this,” you said quietly to whatever creatures were listening in the dark. You should have gone in with no questions asked, no words spoken and stood against the wall quiet until everything was done, but why should you have? You weren’t Jongho’s girlfriend, you weren’t some naive teenager, you were his manager. In technical terms, you were the one in charge, not Jongho, not the sleazy, illegitimate doctor. You contented yourself on the porch for the next few minutes, fuming and running over the various ways you would chew Jongho out when you got in the car in just a few minutes; until the light shut off.

You weren’t sure if it was automatic or if the doctor shut it off purposefully, but regardless of the intent or lack-thereof you were in the dark. Sitting on a strange man’s front porch in a backroads neighborhood with no car keys and no phone. “It’s okay,” you whispered to yourself in reassurance, planting your butt on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest, “it’s already been like fifteen minutes,” you wrapped your arms around your knees. Fuck, it was cold. “Jongho’s probably already done and he’s just talking shit with the doctor.” You could see your breath now that it was dark, the grey clouds of condensation hanging in the air momentarily every time you spoke. You hummed to yourself to keep track of time, going through songs you remembered one by one until seven had passed. “Jongho…” you whined quietly in the dark, “it’s been over twenty minutes, just leave already.” Another seven songs, another twenty minutes. Your heart began to race slightly, blood pressure rising as you wondered why you couldn’t hear anyone talking inside while your brain conjured up countless horrible theories that involved one or both of them being dead. Should you stand up and knock on the door? Should you go inside? You wrapped your arms tighter around your knees, knowing that if you went inside and something had happened to Jongho there would be no way for you to defend yourself. If anything, your best bet was to wait outside until morning and find someone to break into the car, or maybe someone from another house nearby would help you. Your breathing slowed a bit, anxiety evening out as you formulated a plan just in case what you feared came to fruition. You sat there like that for another few minutes, running over new plans and courses of action; managing the situation, even though you usually handled other peoples’ affairs. You were mid brain wrack when the porch light clicked back on and you heard footsteps towards the door, and you unfolded yourself from your position and stood up, preparing yourself to run until you heard Jongho’s voice from the other side of the door.

“There you are,” Jongho hobbled out of the doorway smiling, obviously feeling much better than he had before, “I was getting a little lonely in there without you nagging me every 30 seconds.”

“I just gave him some oxy,” the doctor said to you, pushing Jongho out of the door towards you, “there’s more in his coat to take later, he’s gonna need it.”

“Thanks,” you forced yourself to say, not wanting anything to do with the man who kicked you out of his house in the middle of January, “did he pay you already?”

“Don’t give him anymore,” Jongho put his hand on your shoulder, steadying himself on his feet, “the motherfucker already cheated me out of everything I had.”

“The Blues are gonna kick in soon,” the doctor ignored him and backed up back into his house, “get him in the car before you have to drag him.” The door closed behind you and the light shut off once more, affirming your earlier suspicions that he had deliberately left you in the dark.

Jongho shuffled down the steps and through the dark to the car, head lolling onto your shoulder as you neared the passenger side, “keys?” You lifted your arm to get him upright again.

“In my pocket,” he mumbled, “my arms are asleep.” You reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a handful of assorted pills, but no keys. You sighed and shoved your hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and wrapped your hand around your pepperspay keychain. Almost instantly he shot away from you, eyes wide, “damn, y/n, can’t it wait until we’re in the car? Fuck.”

You scoffed, “here I was thinking it was perfectly acceptable to grab your dick in the middle of this bumfuck neighborhood,” you pretended to aim the pepperspray at his face and lightly smacked his butt, “I’ll just settle for this I guess.”

Giggling, Jongho’s hand came down heavily with your lower back, sending you jolting forward, you pulled the door open for him and rubbed your back with the other, knowing it would bruise, “you missed, you fucking asshole,” you muttered and shoved him into the car.

“I can’t help it baby, I’m high as shit right now.” The drive to Jongho’s apartment was peaceful, primarily because he was knocked out the entire hour and a half. By the time you pulled into a parking space you could see the sunrise peeking through the dark; you unbuckled your seatbelt and rested your head on the steering-wheel, glad to finally have a break. You turned your head to face Jongho who was still asleep, his mouth formed into a pout and his head slumped forward to rest on his chest. Regardless of the narcotics he’d taken, you knew he was exhausted. Normally a fight night ended with him walking home from the gym after splitting the money and you driving safe, comfortable, and a little bit richer to your apartment. You reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out the ziplock bag of cash, you loved this--even if it wasn’t all your money--but the thrill of being able to hold a few hundred (or sometimes a few thousand) dollars every few nights was indescribable.

“Jongho,” you poked his cheek, hoping he’d wake up easily, “Jonghoooo,” you poked him harder, not wanting to have to carry him up the stairs of his apartment.

“Mmmmwhat,” he hummed and peeled his eyelids open.

“We’re at your apartment,” you tucked the money into your coat pocket and reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt, “wake up so you can go to sleep in a real bed.”

Jongho groaned once more in protest, but didn’t press the issue any further, even in his altered state. You were not above leaving him to sleep peacefully on the curb outside his apartment building, and he knew that. You had your arm wrapped around his back once more, but it was mainly to make him feel more emotionally secure as you both stumbled tiredly up the stairs; if he legitimately started to fall backwards there was no way you’d be able to catch him--break his fall, maybe, but you’d rather one of you be seriously injured than both of you.

When you reached his door you punched the code and practically pushed him inside, he uttered some sort of complaint about you knowing his lock-code, but you were too exhausted to open your ears to him anymore.

Arms hanging loosely at his side, he beelined straight to his bed, collapsing onto it with nothing more than a slight squeak of discomfort. You sat on his bed next to him, leaning over to take his shoes off, “you can’t get in bed with shoes on, Jongie,” you smiled at the nickname, knowing that if he was in his right mind he would have thrown a fit hearing you call him that, “that’s gross.” After tossing his shoes out of the room and into the hall, you worked on the rest of his clothes; his shirt was soaked with sweat and some blood, and you cringed at the thought that he had so willingly gotten into bed in them. You made a mental note to remind him to wash his sheets in the morning.

“Take yours off too,” he mumbled and grinned to himself while you pulled on the hem of his shirt, “it’s not fair that I get to be the only naked one in this house right now.”

[minghaos-pet]

New Kpop Writing Blog

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