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jungwooisms · 4 years

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pairing: reader x lee taeyong genre: whatever that feeling is whenever a party’s winding down at three am (fluff, angst) warnings: alcohol, (alcohol induced) existential crises, college parties (yuck), cursing word count: ~ 1.1k

“Are you coming in?”

Brown irises too focused on a moth slamming itself into the porch light by the door to notice anything else. Whack, whack, whack. Its small body propelling itself towards the bulb, smacking against the light with a ferocity that Taeyong could only compare to a rugby player smashing into another one. Taeyong’s been dazed out for what feels like weeks, the midterm he’d been preparing for ripping through his day at a speed he could barely keep up with, he was strung out on Keats, Donne and Tagore.

He’s more literature than blood and bone right now, thoughts fried with the nuance of poets long past and the innovation of the current colossuses.

“Hello? Dude, Taeyong.” A voice pulling him from the brink of the precipice of falling into a routine of literary bravado.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m here.” Blinking once, twice, three times before turning to the figure standing in the doorway, an obtrusive smell of cheap liquor and weed wafting out from the blinding glow and glimmer of the strobe and shitty LED lights strung around the interior of the house.

“Good. Now pay up,” A smile on his friend’s face as he extends his hand out to him.

“Oh fuck off Suh,” Taeyong scoffs, “You know I never bring my wallet to these things.”

“Take the Tunnel then,” Johnny shrugs his shoulders with a smirk.

“You’re a fucking sadist.”

“But I’m your sadist,” he says with a knowing smile and places his hand on the shorter’s shoulder. “Now get in here,” a laugh as he urges Taeyong forward with a pull.

Feet stumbling from the transition of the porch to the carpeted interior, Taeyong has to stop himself before running into another figure.

“They put you on Tunnel duty again?” Taeyong asks as he nearly runs face first into a hand holding a bottle of vodka, he can’t see the brand at this angle, but trails his sight upward to see a familiar face. The younger guy stands rigidly, a frown on his face and a blue solo cup grasped tightly in his other hand.

“Only until Mark gets here,” Jeong Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders, “You’re not paying again?”

“You know I’m broke,” he sighs, seeing that Johnny’s run off to indoctrinate another newcomer to the Tunnel, “Hit me.”

“I’ll let you off easy,” his voice muffled as he bites his blue cup to hold it, reaching behind him to grab a red cup that’d been stacked on a table in the hallway. “Is the Tunnel always your go to?”

The Tunnel. Not a real, built thing at all. In fact it was really the breezeway that led from the front door of Suh’s house to the kitchen, the entrance to his living room was to the right of the front door but one was denied access to it unless you paid the ten bucks or so to get in. Or take the Tunnel. Normally it looked relatively nice, Suh’s interior decorating skills weren’t awful, but now the breezeway was cramped with a throng of bodies all holding different assortments of booze bottles. The trick of this whole thing was to walk down the hall, cup outstretched so that anyone you passed by could pour any of their shit into your glass, and at the end you’d have to chug the cacophony of spirits to be allowed inside. ‘If you’re not going to pay up, you’re at least going to get fucked up,’ Taeyong recalls Johnny saying this to him when he’d first implemented the Tunnel. It didn’t seem monetarily sound if you were buying all of that booze, but there was a reason Johnny wasn’t a finance major.

In a sense, the Tunnel was probably the frattiest, dude-bro thing that Suh Johnny subscribed to. While it never really meant to be a harmful occurence, it would quite literally put some people out of commission for the rest of the night should the Tunnel members get a little heavy handed in their pours.

“Until I stop making minimum wage, yeah.” He watches as Jaehyun begins to pour the clear liquid into his cup.

“I get that,” the younger sighs, handing the now partially filled cup to Taeyong. “Well, the Tunnel awaits.”

Taeyong lets out a strangled groan of anticipation as he begins his descent down the hall, cup outstretched as the chorus of shouts rises as he passes. The throng of bodies is too thick to see where he’s going, but he feels the cup getting heavier and the occasional splash from the throwback hitting his hand.

“There’s the cheapskate,” Yuta’s leaning against his fridge, presumably to block off any hungry partygoers from raiding his food. But as soon as he sees Taeyong stumble into the fluorescently lit kitchen he pushes himself up and walks over, embracing the other in a one armed hug as he looks down into Taeyong’s cup. “Oh that looks absolutely awful.”

“It’s not going to taste any better either,” Taeyong frowns as Yuta pulls away from him, eyes still trained on the cup. He switches hands for a moment to rub his hand dirtied with the splashes of alcohol on a nearby dish towel before returning his gaze to the grossly brown colored contents of the solo cup.

“Pray for me.” With a forlorn sigh he raises it to his lips, free hand rising up from his side to pinch his nose as he downs the contents of the cup. It burns on the way in, a fire trailing down to his esophagus and into his gut as the liquid empties itself from the cup and into him. The plastic crumples under his grip as he grits his teeth, tossing the cup onto the kitchen counter as a less than pleasant plethora of flavors invade his senses. He wasn’t drunk enough to drink something like that, not yet at least.

This would be his first mistake of the night.

“Gonna puke?” Yuta questions with a disgusted look on his face, almost as if he were the embodiment of how Taeyong was feeling.

“Not yet,” he manages out, glancing to the array of cups as if to distract himself from the somersaults his insides were doing. “What’s in those?”

“We went with a Matrix theme today, you know despite most of the house never seeing the movie before.” Yuta scoffs and turns to look at the cups, “Red pill, blue pill?” Taeyong glances to the rainbowed assortment of plastic cups in front of him, trying to see what was in any of them. “I guess we have yellow, orange, green and whatever the fuck Jungwoo made in the purple one too.”

“Red.”

And there was the second. Only one more to go before he strikes himself out with his own decision making.

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #taeyong drabbles #nct fluff #nct angst

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aubreyweston · 4 years

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vignettes from a visit home

When: Monday, May 4-Sunday, May 10

Where: Mostly Saint Paul, Minnesota

Who: Aubrey and his brother, mother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, Kyle the roommate

Warnings: excessive alcohol use, violence, brief fatshaming of a dog

Word Count: 5,615

When Aubrey spotted his brother waiting for him as he emerged from the arrivals door at the airport, he nearly sagged with relief. He weaved past people, shooting Brody an exhausted smile once they were close enough to talk.

“Hey man, thanks for coming to get me,” he said.

Brody reached over to ruffle his hair, and then grabbed his bag from him. “Anytime, twerp.”

Once they were in the car, Aubrey reached over to turn the radio on but Brody batted his hand away. “Nuh uh. Nope. Not that easy. What’s up, dude? Not that we’re not thrilled to see you but… this is pretty sudden. Mom said you were coming home after your exams.”

Great. He couldn’t escape the third degree anywhere it seemed. His head throbbed. He’d really taken advantage of Quinn’s generosity.

“Stuff just happened. I… I needed to get out of New York.” He stared at his palms, clenching and unclenching his right hand. He really hoped he hadn’t broken Kyle’s nose.

Brody was quiet for a moment, focused on the road, but Aubrey knew his brother and knew it wouldn’t last.

“You still talking to Dr. Banks?”

There it was. Aubrey thunked his head against his seat’s headrest.

“Yes, Brody. I’m still talking to Dr. Banks. I’m still taking my meds. It’s —” he bit his lip hard, and then ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“I’m fine. I missed you. I missed mom. I missed Hansel and Gretel. Am I not allowed to impulsively fly home every once in a while?”

Brody looked dubious, but he shrugged. “Yeah. You are. Of course you are.”

“How’s Olivia?” Aubrey asked, desperate to change the subject. Getting Brody to talk about his fiancee was low-hanging fruit, but he’d take him droning on about his future sister-in-law if it’d get him to stop asking questions.

It worked. His brother immediately launched into a detailed explanation of their wedding plans and how happy he was to finally be marrying her, and Aubrey was able to lean his head against the cool window and shut his eyes as Brody rambled on.

After what only felt like a few minutes, Brody was shaking Aubrey awake, but sure enough they were in front of their house. Aubrey had complicated feelings about the place. It inspired both a healthy dose of fear and an immense wave of calm all at once. He supposed that was the warring influence of both his parents.

Before he could even get to the door, it was opening, and his mom was standing there, and before Aubrey even realized what he was doing, he’d flung himself at her, hugging her tightly and burying his face into her neck. “Hi mama,” he mumbled.

Just the feeling of her good arm wrapping around him had him sniffling. “Welcome home, baby,” she said.

He finally pulled back, wiping at his eyes and forcing a smile onto his face. He was sure he’d already freaked her out. He didn’t want to make it worse.

She took his chin in her hand, examining him for a moment. Aubrey didn’t know what she was looking for but she didn’t seem to have found it because she made a soft tutting noise before pulling him inside.

Aubrey’d been busy steadfastly ignoring the semi-constant vibrations coming from his phone when Brody had unceremoniously invited himself inside without bothering to knock, and took a seat on his bed.

“You smell like alcohol,” his brother said matter-of-factly. “If I can smell it, mom definitely did too.”

Aubrey rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting his brother’s eyes. He wondered in the back of his mind if Brody ever resented having an absolute basketcase for a sibling.

“Are you going to arrest me for being underage, officer?”

“That’s not the point and we both know it. Does your shrink know?”

Aubrey blinked, and then lied through his teeth, hoping Brody wouldn’t see through the cracks.

“He knows, Brody. I’m fine.”

A scoff, and then Brody was elbowing him over so he could lie down next to him.

“Seriously, Aubrey, what happened?”

Aubrey was quiet, and thankfully Gretel padded inside and hopped onto his chest. He smiled at her, and then scratched her behind the ears. Her purrs eased the icy grip of anxiety that he’d felt around his throat since Santana’s party. “I missed you Grets,” he whispered, giggling a bit as she started to kneed his chest with her itty bitty paws.

“I’m taking Olivia to Como Park in a bit,” Brody said, cutting through the shreds of peace he’d finally managed to grab onto. “You’re coming too.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, so Aubrey didn’t bother responding. Instead he pressed a kiss to Gretel’s little nose.

When Brody stood up, Aubrey finally looked at him. “Can you take my phone? If it buzzes one more time I might smash it and I can’t afford a new one right now.”

Brody watched him for a long moment, and then sighed, grabbing the device and pocketing it before finally leaving Aubrey alone.

Como Park had been fine. Olivia had kept up a steady chatter, and responding to her in a decently normal manner had kept him sufficiently occupied. The plants in the conservatory were breathtaking as usual, and he’d actually found a spark of something resembling joy in the pit that’d taken over his chest once they’d wandered through the zoo.

“Which one was your favourite, Aubrey?” Olivia asked, shooting him an enthusiastic smile. Aubrey felt kind of bad for her. She made such an effort and he knew he was giving her barely any back.

“I kind of loved them all,” he said slowly, tilting his head to the side. “But I think the polar bear was my favourite… or the snow leopard.”

“I liked the tamarins. Both kinds. They were so cute. Weren’t they cute, Brody?” Olivia directed this question at his brother, and swung their clasped hands between them. She looked disgustingly fond.

Aubrey’s ember of a good mood abruptly flickered out. He wondered if it was too late to go back and throw himself in the tiger cage and wait for one of them to decide it was hungry.

When they’d gotten home, he’d immediately scooped up Gretel and then gone to pry open one of the kitchen cabinet’s toe-kicks while his mom, Brody and Olivia were all distracted. He’d stashed alcohol in there all through high school and when he’d quit he hadn’t bothered to get rid of what was left. If luck was on his side, no one had found his cache and emptied it.

It turned out that maybe the tides were turning in his favour for the first time this week, because he emerged victorious, a dusty but untouched bottle of Smirnoff clutched in his hand.

Thank fuck. He kicked the toe-kick into place, scooped up Gretel, and did his best to hide the booze behind her flank in case he ran into anyone on the way back to his room.

His fears were unfounded because he safely made his way back to his room. None of the bedrooms had locks. His dad had taken them all off the doors, demanded to know what any of them could possibly want to hide from him. No one had bothered to put them back after he was arrested. There didn’t seem to be much of a point.

Still, the lack of lock was inconvenient now. He kicked the door shut and then deposited Gretel on the ground, and then grabbed his desk chair and dragged it over to the door, wedging it under the handle to make it harder to open. That’d have to be enough.

Satisfied, he sat down on his bed and opened the bottle he’d pilfered. He hadn’t meant to get as drunk as he did but his tolerance had gone down drastically compared to when he’d get drunk behind the bleachers in high school.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out instinctively, and then squinted at it. Sebastian’s name was bright on the screen. His heart lurched, and he couldn’t stop himself from thumbing the messages open and reading them all.

He tried to untangle the knot that was his feelings. Part of him ached to reply. Something about the messages warmed him up from the inside. Stupid Sebastian, with his dumb smirk and pretty eyes and endless persistence. Aubrey wanted to strangle him.

He also really, really wanted to kiss him again.

He took another long sip and got onto his feet, pacing around his room in circles, the bottle still clutched in his hand.

Fuck, Sebastian. And not like that. This… this was his fault. He didn’t know how exactly or why but it was. Ever since they’d met it’d been the same pattern. It was inescapable, despite every one of Aubrey’s best efforts to get him to knock it off.

He’d just kept trying. Fucking stubborn, persistent prat. And now… and now...

Before Aubrey’d realized what was happening, he’d already driven his fist into the wall. The drywall broke inwards, and Aubrey’s hand throbbed. He pulled back, though the pain had felt good. Felt familiar. He punched at it again with the same hand, letting the ache in his knuckles roll over him. The pain was good. Real. Something he could control. He whirled back towards his bed, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it until his throat was sore.

A series of texts to various people in his phone and another hole in the wall later, Aubrey finally felt tired enough to shove his phone under his pillow, close the vodka and roll it under his bed.

He burrowed his head under his blankets to block out the setting sun and closed his eyes.

Someone was being loud. And letting in light in. Aubrey hissed and burrowed his face into his pillow, trying to cling to sleep for as long as he could.

“Mom told me to wake you up. Come on, Aubs. Rise and shine,” Brody said, sounding like he was trying way too hard to ignore whatever damage Aubrey had wreaked on the walls.

He made a disgruntled noise and ignored him. His head hurt. He wanted more sleep.

When Brody tried to pull his duvet off, he swung at him blindly. “Leave me ‘lone,” he muttered.

Brody backed off, but clearly not for long because he’d started trying to reason with him again.

Aubrey swore under his breath, and then reached over to his bedside table where he’d left one of his social work textbooks.

He grabbed it as Brody continued to explain their plan for the day, and without opening his eyes, he aimed for the sound of his voice and hurled it with as much force as he could.

“Fuck off!”

There was a loud thunk as it hit something that sounded a lot more like a wall than flesh, and then silence, before Aubrey heard Brody sigh and pad out of the room.

Deep down he felt a little apologetic, but mostly he was glad he could sink back into his pillow without further disruption.

He dragged himself out of bed eventually, and mumbled an apology to Brody for the textbook throwing.

He was hungry though, so he shuffled into the kitchen and started digging around for pancake ingredients. It was getting dark out but… time was a social construct. He could have pancakes at night. Who gave a shit? They were all slowly inching toward death anyway.

He grabbed a few things, and a bowl and started mixing. Pancakes were good. Safe. He could literally make them in his sleep.

He grabbed some orange juice from the fridge and poured it in a glass, leaving some room at the top, and detoured back into his room for some Smirnoff to mix in. That way he’d be able to pass his drink off for something normal if no one else in the house came too close. He downed his pills with the vodka, and then took a few more sips from the bottle for good measure, and then tucked it back under his bed.

Aubrey returned to the kitchen and sipped some of the screwdriver while he heated up a pan.

Hansel shuffled into the kitchen and whined at his feet, tail wagging. Aubrey glanced down at him, and sighed. The chunky dachshund was giving him wide, sad eyes.

“Bud. Seriously? You’re supposed to be losing weight.”

He leaned down to give him a good scratch on his little snout, and then got up again and grabbed some of the pancake batter, pouring it into the hot pan.

“The first one always sucks. I’ll give you some of it,” he promised. The batter was so slowly bubbling, and once it looked ready, he flipped it.

“Smells good in here,” a female voice said behind him, and Aubrey turned to see Olivia smiling at him.

“Um, thanks Liv,” he said, shifting his weight and taking another sip of his drink to distract himself. “You want any orange juice?”

Olivia shook her head, and crouched, laughing as Hansel waddled over to her. “Thanks, Aubs. I’m good. Just came to find the little fella. My friends won’t stop begging for pictures.”

Aubrey downed the rest of his screwdriver, and then took the first pancake out of the pan, breaking off a good chunk for Hansel who’d returned to nosing at his feet. He poured a new scoop of batter into the pan, and then glanced at Olivia who’d been recording Hansel’s enthusiastic consumption of the pancake.

“Anything for the ‘gram, eh?” He joked. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he grabbed the spatula holding the remainder of the first pancake and swung it wildly. “We’ve got a pancake here ladies and gentlemen,” he said, laughing before whipping it in Olivia’s direction.

She shrieked before dissolving into giggles as the pancake sailed past her and then slammed into the wall.

Aubrey started laughing again too. “Fuck,” he whispered, going over to examine the splatter on the wall. Olivia was laughing too, and she handed him some paper towels, but he shrugged them off, instead batting at the chunks of pancake ‘til they were on the floor too.

“Hansel will get it,” he said, shrugging, before he swore under his breath as the smell of smoke hit them. The second pancake! He’d forgotten all about it.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing the pan and taking it off the burner.

Olivia had fallen quiet behind him, and when he turned, she was looking less amused and more concerned.

“I’ve never seen you burn anything before. Are you okay, Aubrey?”

Aubrey gritted his teeth, but then forced a smile. “Sorry, Liv. We were having fun. Just… got distracted.”

She nodded, still looking worried, and scooped up Hansel now that he was done with his pancake.

“I’m just going to go call my dad, but I’m in the other room if you need any help.” She said, before finally leaving him alone to scrape burned pancake off the pan.

He’d been trying to be productive for at least a little bit in between drinking binges and panic attacks, so he was blasting white noise in his earbuds and studying for finals when his bedroom door opened and his mom came inside.

There was a soft but serious look on her face when she took a seat next to him. Aubrey felt something twist in the pit of his stomach. He shut his psych textbook, pulled out his earbuds. “Hey mom.”

“Hi baby bear,” she said, reaching out with her good arm to push his hair out of his face. “Seeing you this week has been wonderful but something’s bothering you. I know it is. Mothers always know… the same way they know about the bottles in the toe kick.” She fixed him with a look, and Aubrey glanced away, ashamed.

He stared down at his hands. His mom was the person he hated disappointing the most. She deserved better.

Her hand was under his jaw, tilting his head up. “My sweet boy. You were the sweetest little child and I know he’s still in there. Under all this fear and pain.”

Aubrey swallowed thickly, tears welling up, and had to wipe at them frantically.

“Mama,” he asked quietly. “What happened to your soulmate?”

It was not a subject they talked about often. The part of her arm she’d lost was also the part with her souldate. He didn’t know if his dad had done that on purpose or not. Aubrey couldn’t remember for the life of him what it had looked like before she’d lost it.

“My mark turned into a scar when I was eleven,” his mother responded smoothly. There wasn’t any pain or anger in her voice. She was merely stating a fact, as accepted as the colour of the sky. “It’s hard when you don’t know who they are. You can’t even find out what happened. But I was young and I adapted.”

He nodded, pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them as he watched her. He couldn’t even imagine. While he’d always resented his mark, he found it hard to think about how he would’ve reacted if suddenly it had scratched out like that.

“What made you decide to…” he paused, unsure how to phrase it. His mother, perceptive as usual, finished the sentence for him.

“Marry your father? He was a sweet talker. Said he didn’t care about his date, that he was focused on the here and now and that he’d take care of me,” she said, pursing her lips. “It must sound silly to you now, that I believed him but… he was very convincing.”

She reached out to stroke his hair again. “And I wanted a family. As much as I hate the man now, he did give me you and your brother.”

Aubrey smiled at that, but it was still weighing on him.

“And now? Do you ever think about… finding someone?”

Her eyes sparkled, but she shook her head. “Do I wish I had some great epic romance? Of course. Do I think there’s still someone out there who could give me that? Of course. But I’m happy now. I want to focus on you. On Brody and his wedding. If someone stumbles into my life then maybe I’ll give it a chance, but I’m not missing anything right now.”

Aubrey nodded, though a part of him thought it was supremely unfair that his mother didn’t get to have someone looking for her. He hated the idea as a whole, but if anyone deserved it, it was her. He certainly didn’t and somehow he had it? And she didn’t? It was another piece in his mounting pile of evidence that the universe was profoundly cruel and unfair.

“Aubrey, listen to me.” His mother’s voice broke him out of his reverie. She fixed him with a steady gaze.

“You are complete. Soulmate or not. Every single one of us is complete,” she assured him. “There is nothing missing. I’m not missing out. You’re not missing out. Your brother wasn’t somehow lacking until he met Olivia. I want you to always remember that. It’s something I should’ve remembered when I was young.”

Aubrey nodded, his eyes welling up again, and this time when he went to wipe at them, she grabbed his arm with her hand, and then held it carefully.

“But don’t build walls either. You hear me? Let people in. Me. Your brother. Whoever is out there and wants to see the real you. You don’t need them, the same way you don’t need a 5th copy of the Communist Manifesto. But they will enrich your life. I don’t want you to run away from that.”

She leaned in and kissed his forehead, and then let go of his hand, and patted his arm instead.

“I’ll let you get back to your studying.”

Aubrey had somehow managed to catch a cold, amidst all the other bullshit that was currently going on in his life. His voice being shot hadn’t stopped him from playing so much guitar that even his calluses hadn’t stopped his fingers from getting sore.

He strummed, starting a new song, and determinedly blaming the cracks in his voice on his sore throat and not the fact that there was a ball in his chest that ached.

“Fell out of bed, butterfly bandage, but don’t worry. You’ll never remember your head is far too blurry. Put him in the back of a squad car, restrain that man! He needs his head put through a CAT scan. Hey editor, I'm undeniable, hey doctor, I'm certifiable,” he sang.

Fuck. Fuck he was not going to make himself cry.

“I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine. What a match, I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet.” He stopped, swearing under his breath, and wiped at his tears.

“So boycott love. Detox just to retox. And I’d promise you anything for another shot at life.”

Gretel meowed and he sighed, turning to look at her. She was curled up, but her eyes were fixed on him. She blinked slowly at him and he nodded.

“Yeah, I know. I’m all over the place.”

She made a meeeeeerp noise, and rolled onto her back, paws in the air. If she could speak English, he assumed she’d be giving him a pep-talk right now.

“You’re very smart, Grets.”

She snuffled, rolling back onto her belly and meowed again, quieter this time.

“You want me to get it together? Join the club.”

Brody’s decision to change the pronouns when he sang “New Rules” was pure cowardice, and Brody made sure to tell him that despite the fact that he otherwise enjoyed his brother’s impromptu performance.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching as Brody strummed his guitar absently as he tried to decide what he wanted to play next. They were alone, and having a ‘Bros Day’, Olivia having decided to take their mom out for the day. She was a kind girl. Perfect for Brody.

He sighed at the thought, and apparently that was enough to catch his brother’s attention because he was setting the guitar down.

“Kid, are we going to talk about whatever all of this is?”

Aubrey didn’t reply for a moment, biting his lip as he thought.

“Were you scared when you got together with Olivia?” He asked eventually.

He didn’t meet Brody’s eyes when he asked, even though he could feel them boring into him. He heard, rather than saw his brother get off the chair, set his guitar down, and come sit next to him.

“Terrified,” Brody replied after a moment. “But everything clicked as soon as it happened. I couldn’t let myself be scared for long. Not with her around.”

Aubrey rubbed at his face. “Sounds awesome,” he said, only a little sarcastically. Brody laughed a little and nudged him.

Aubrey glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Um, what’s your manifestation?”

“Well, you know the voice in your head?”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed. “Your… thoughts?”

Brody nodded, before tilting his head to the side and tapping one of his temples with a finger. “My internal monologue’s in her voice. Hers is in mine. Kinda trippy, huh?”

“I guess. Kind of pointless too.”

Brody elbowed him again. “Stop being such a cynical little shit. I like it. It’s like I’m always carrying a piece of her with me.”

“She’s really sweet,” Aubrey conceded. “Like too sweet. Don’t you ever worry that she deserves better? Or… or get freaked out that this is all just some higher power’s meddling and you don’t have control over it at all?”

Brody slung an arm around Aubrey’s shoulder and gave him a shoulder pat. “Nope. There’s no use thinking like that. I love her. She loves me. I don’t think overcomplicating one of the most basic things in life is productive. What’s it achieve?”

Aubrey didn’t really have an answer.

He’d hoped this conversation would do something to sway him, one way or another, but instead he was just frustrated.

He mimed gagging just to get Brody to stop looking at him with earnest eyes, like he was trying to peer into his soul.

It didn’t work.

“So, is there something you want to tell me? About someone special?”

Aubrey froze.

“Shut up, Brody.”

“Aubs…”

“Shut up,” he said, standing up and stumbling back from his brother, fists clenched. “There’s nothing and no one. I was just asking —”

Brody came closer, not dissuaded at all by his outburst.

“You’re a bad liar, squirt, seriously, talk to me.”

Something was building up behind Aubrey’s vision, making his heart beat faster and the feeble control he had over his emotions start to snap.

“I just want to help,” Brody continued.

Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet.

“I know the kiss is scary and that dad fucked us both up but you need to —”

The last thread of control over Aubrey’s temper snapped and he was shoving Brody against the wall, his fist slamming into the plaster next to his brother’s head.

“I don’t need to do anything! Fucking stop. Shut up about it,” he hissed.

Brody looked stunned for a moment, before his expression shifted into something more neutral, careful.

“Take a deep breath, Aubs. And step back. You’re better than this. You’re not dad. I know you’re not.”

He didn’t move, breathing in hard through his nose as his pulse pounded in his ears. He drew his hand back and punched the wall again, and then for a third time, the pain blossoming through his first slowly breaking through his haze.

“I hate you, why do you always have to push?” he said, his voice cracking as he finally drew back and then kicked the chair over. His shoulders slumped as he ran a hand through his hair and fought the urge to hit some more. He beelined for the kitchen, not bothering to see if Brody was following him or not, and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of red wine that Olivia had bought, popping off the cork and then unceremoniously chugging some of it.

He wiped at his eyes, and then leaned against the fridge, his pulse still racing, the cocktail of fury and fear making him volatile.

“I’m sorry.” Brody’s voice. He was quiet for another moment. “I just want you to be happy.”

Aubrey took another swig of the wine, not meeting his brother’s eyes as all the fight suddenly left him. In its place was a mix of shame and regret.

Something was seriously broken in him. His family deserved better. So did his friends. And Sebastian, especially.

“I’m sorry too,” he said hoarsely. “I swear I’ve been taking my meds. Everything’s just bad right now.”

Brody drew closer, and reached out to take the bottle from him. He relinquished it without a fight, and then slid down onto his knees, leaning against the fridge. Aubrey watched his brother pour the contents down the sink and didn’t try to stop him.

“Get up. We don’t need to talk about this anymore but we’re having an adventure outside where you can kick and hit all the shit you want without consequence,” Brody said, fixing him with a look that Aubrey knew meant he wasn’t going to budge on this.

He held a hand out and Brody pulled him up. He still felt deeply rattled. He was sure Brody did too. “Fine. But stop stealing my phone to go on my Instagram. And posting weird creepshots of me.”

Brody grinned and patted his shoulder. “No promises.”

Aubrey’s last night in Minnesota was meant to be low-key, but somehow it had turned into Brody and Olivia trying desperately to perfect the ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’ dance, though they spent half their practice giggling and kissing.

It was disgusting. But kind of adorable.

But his mom found it precious and wouldn’t stop recording their every attempt, so Aubrey toned down his roasting to more of a simmer.

It almost felt normal. Almost.

His fight or flight response had triggered his impromptu visit to Minnesota, but now that it was almost over, he had to admit it had done him some good. He was certainly feeling marginally more stable than he’d been at the beginning of the week. Jury was out on whether that calm would last on the plane back to New York.

He glanced around the living room, scooping Gretel up and hugging her to his chest. He was going to miss home. He didn’t know when he’d be back, considering he’d blown through his savings, and even if he wanted to take Santana up on her offer, he’d been horrendously rude to her and it probably didn’t stand anymore.

So instead he committed the smiles on Brody and Olivia and his mom’s faces to memory. If he took on some extra shifts, he could probably come see them again for Thanksgiving but a summer visit was definitely out of the cards now.

Waking up at 5 a.m. just so he could catch his stupid flight to New York was seriously not it. But at least this time he hadn’t thrown anything at his brother when he’d forced him awake. It was all about the small victories.

He hugged his mom for about five minutes straight, and he was crying a little when he finally pulled back.

She kissed each of his cheeks, and then his forehead. “My baby bear. Things will look up. I promise.”

“I’m sorry for…” he trailed off. For what? The fighting with Brody? For bringing violence back into her home? The yelling and holes in the wall? “For everything.”

She reached up and wiped at his tears, and smiled at him. “Work on feeling better, and then consider yourself forgiven.”

He nodded. That was fair. And frankly more than he deserved. His mom was an endless fountain of patience.

“I love you. I’ll call you when my flight lands. Happy mother’s day.”

Brody gave him much of the same advice on the way to the airport, before reeling him in for a hug once they were in the terminal.

“Sort your shit out and quit destroying your liver,” he said, fixing him with a look once he’d pulled back.

Aubrey shot him a half-smile. “I think if my liver survived high school, it’ll survive this.”

Brody sighed, but Aubrey was very skilled in the art of deciphering his brother’s sighs by now. This one wasn’t angry, just kind of resigned. He’d take disappointed over pissed any day.

“I know it’s hard. You know I do. But just… stop self-sabotaging and let yourself have good things. Don’t let dad’s shit ruin your life more than he already has.”

Aubrey gave his brother a two-fingered salute as he walked backwards from him, pulling his carry-on in front of him. “Aye, aye captain.”

It was good advice. Brody was good at knowing the right things to say but Aubrey was never very good at listening to him.

His first stop once he got back to New York was his apartment. He needed to drop off his suitcase and his guitar.

He’d gotten tipsy on the plane, and then spent his commute back to his apartment staring at the mountain of texts on his phone. He’d read them over and over all week, and every time he did, his chest felt tight.

It was like squeezing lemon juice onto a paper cut. Pointless and painful. He couldn’t stand it. He seriously needed more to drink, nevermind the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet.

He finally reached his apartment, and let himself in. He beelined for his room, dropping his bag and guitar off, before he padded out to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge.

Chet usually had something — Bingo! — he spotted a nearly full bottle of Fireball tucked away behind some takeout containers, and pulled it out, opening it and taking a few gulps, before shutting the fridge and turning around.

Oh.

“Hi Kyle,” he said, a bit sheepishly, as his wide-eyed roommate took a step back towards his bedroom.

He rubbed at his forehead, and then took another gulp from the bottle before plopping down on the couch.

“I’m sorry about last week,” he said, chewing on his lip for a moment. “You didn’t deserve it. Even if your room does smell like you’re hiding dead bodies in there.”

Kyle stared at him for a moment, before he broke out into a grin, and came over to slap him enthusiastically on the shoulder.

“Right on, dude. Don’t even worry about it. What’s a couple smacks between friends?”

If Aubrey’d been sober, he probably would’ve disputed that statement a little further. It was probably not healthy or normal for friends to regularly hit each other. He didn’t even think of Kyle as a friend.

But drunk Aubrey was just going to take it as a win, because he was sorely needing one of those this week.

“Thanks, man.” He waved the bottle in Kyle’s direction. “You’re not gonna tell Chet about this, right?”

Kyle shook his head. “Nah, brah. Your secret’s safe with me.”

His roommate finally disappeared back into the biohazard he called a room and Aubrey took another sip of his drink, and pulled out his phone, staring at it for a minute or two before getting up and putting the Fireball away.

It was probably time for him to go see Sebastian.

#para #// FUCK IT HERE IT IS #aubrey did NOT go see his dad #mostly bc i was sick of writing and that would've required a LOT more of it #and i might as well save some ammo in my back pocket for later #maybe when saubrey start being happy or something idk #tumblr ate all my formatting on this and i was too lazy to put it back so rip 2 that

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endlessly-searching-for-you · 5 years

Text

Plane Luck

Another one for @meeraaverywalker's November Challenge day 5: Trouble.

Summary: Young runaway pilot gets a job offer he can't refuse.

Word Count: ~1900

Warnings: swearing, and lots of it. Also pointing guns at people and a few hits where it hurts, not very graphic because the fight scene sucked and I deleted it

A/N: A kind of Endless Summer prequel, one of the fics that sat in the back of my notes for a few months. It really bugged me: how does a penniless fugitive get a plane? My theory has more holes than a Swiss cheese, I know, but let's pretend for a minute it doesn't, and let the guy tell his own story ;)

(And there’s also another question at the end)

Tags: @darley1101 @mysteli @brightpinkpeppercorn @likethetailofacomet @akrenich @zaffrenotes @agent-bossypants @mind-reader1

The first rays of sunshine hit my face like a baseball bat. Fuck. Did I really drink that much last night? Maybe I just have one of the tropical diseases that turn your brain to mush. Nausea fills me from the deepest pit of my stomach all the way up to my mouth, every cell in my body hurts, my hangover has a hangover.

And I still remember.

I close my eyes, but the images won't stop. No matter how hard I try to push them out of my mind, they always come back.

Weeks of hiding and running like a hunted animal.

Face of that bastard Lundgren.

Mike's death.

It could have been me. It should have been me. Mike's dead, and it's all my fault. My best friend in the entire world is dead just because I was stupid enough to believe in justice.

The memories make me sick. I need some fresh air, but getting up from the bed is not an easy thing. The liquid that was once my brain sloshes inside my skull, one of my thighs feels like it belongs to someone else, and the Death Valley is a tropical oasis compared to the inside of my mouth.

I reach to the fridge, pick one bottle at random and down it in one big gulp before I realize what it is. Milk?! Ugh. I regret the decision when it forces its way back up a few seconds later.

The floor slowly stops swaying under my feet, and I pour myself some coffee. All milk went down the drain, so it's pitch black, just like my mood, and this time it stays down. I hesitantly reach for a slice of stale toast. It's gross, but I don't have anything else, and my rumbling stomach demands a sacrifice, so here it goes.

I splash the cold water on my face and look in the mirror. I look like absolute shit. Is that really me? I can't even recognize myself. Which, I realize, is actually a good thing. I don't want to be recognized. Maybe I should grow a beard? Nah. It would be a shame to hide a jawline like this. Long hair? I'm sick of the short military haircut. Yes, that's it.

I can't tell if it's the coffee or the toast, but I feel really good right now. Cheerful and energetic, even. Both my legs are back, so I grab the worn out sneakers and go for a jog. Maybe that would flush the toxins and despair out of my system.

For the first time in a while, I'm running for fun, not because someone is chasing me. I feel alive and free. I drop to the ground and grind as many push-ups as I can before I fall flat on my face and right in the mud. Forty-five. Not bad for a guy with a hangover, but I know I could easily double that. It's about time I stop wallowing in self-pity and get myself back into shape.

I open the door and stop immediately. Something's not right. Someone's here. They found me. A treacherous floorboard creaks under my foot and I know I'm a dead man. I reach to the pocket of my jacket, but it's empty.

“Are you looking for this?”

A tall, muscular guy stands in the door with my gun in hand. He speaks with a heavy accent, and I don't think I've ever seen him. Policeman? Headhunter? Doesn't matter, I'm screwed anyway.

“Nice to meet you, McKenzie. Why don't we sit and have a chat?”

He waves the gun at my table—it has a fucking teapot and two cups on it, and I'm pretty sure I didn't invite anyone for a fucking tea party—then points it back at me, sits and starts to drink.

“You're awfully quiet.”

I bare my teeth at him in response. What the fuck does he want from me? How does he know who I am?

“We heard you're a pilot.”

I nod.

“My boss wants to see you at five. He's got a job for you.”

He takes another sip, and I fight really hard to stop myself from snatching the cup out of his hands and smashing it on his face.

“I know where you live. I'll come to pick you up.”

He finishes the tea and walks out of the door, taking the gun—my gun—with him, and I pick up my jaw from the floor, wondering what the hell was that all about.

I have absolutely no intention to go, but the bastard keeps a watch on me, and he doesn't even bother to hide. When I look out of the window, he waves at me. The clock chimes four, and he's back in my house with a big smile plastered on his face, like we're fucking friends, and soon I'm in the car, squeezed in the back between two more goons, driving who the fuck knows where.

He drops us off in a shady bar downtown and the two thugs drag me through the crowd. I can't hear, I can't breathe. I'm getting drunk just by inhaling the fumes, and my skull starts to throb again with all the noise. I'm almost thankful when they shove me to a quiet room behind the bar. It's filled with cigarette smoke, but despite that, I feel the increase of oxygen in my lungs.

I don't know who I expected to be the boss, but it definitely wasn't the guy before me. He can't be much older than me. Twenty-five, maybe thirty, tops. Really tall—I hate tall guys—and really handsome. His suit probably costs more than I could earn in a year, and don't get me started on the watch. He looks just like the type of guy who would hire someone else to do the dirty work.

I think I'm not what he expected, too. There's something in his eyes I saw way too many times, and for the first time since this morning, I feel the tiniest spark of hope. There's a slim chance I might be getting out of this alive.

He shakes my hand, smiles the fake smile that doesn't reach his eyes, pushes a glass of water in my hand and babbles something about the weather. I should have taken some business cards, because it feels like a fucking business meeting.

And then he drops the bomb. There is a certain shipment he wants out of the country.

“What happened to your guy?” I ask politely, and he shrugs.

“He had the most unfortunate accident.”

Of course he did. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! I knew I was a dead man the second I walked back into the house.

I look him straight in the eye. We both know I'm in no position to refuse, and I'm not even talking about the obviously armed bodyguards. But there's one thing Jake McKenzie won't do, and that's smuggling fucking drugs.

I'm looking for a way out—maybe I could escape through a bathroom window—but my friend from this morning casually pats his bulging pocket to remind me just how fucked I am. My eyes fall to the table, and I notice a card deck. I feel the faintest idea coming to my mind and hang on to it like a drowning man to a lifeboat.

“Why don't we play cards?” I smile at the boss, my signature underwear dropping smile, and oh my fucking God, I was right. His face flushes for a fraction of second, but there's no fooling me. I shuffle the deck and look him dead in the eye. “I propose a bet.”

He stares back at me, clearly amused, but takes the bait.

“If I win, you agree to work for me?”

“Yes.” God, I hope the deck isn't rigged. “But if I win”—the bastard laughs, and my heart drops, but I continue anyway—“if I win, I want a plane.” His smile widens, so I lower my voice, put the smirk back on and add, “Or, if you want, we could just play strip poker. Like normal people.”

Bingo. His face turns bright red, and one of the thugs chokes on his beer.

“Fuck off! I'm not into dudes!”

Like hell you're not, I add in my thoughts and break into a wide grin. You can deny it all you want, I already know what I needed to know.

“Well?”

His fingers wander up to his tie. Good. I need him distracted to buy me some time to think of a next step. I win the first round easily. Then the next one, and the next, and another one after that. The clock is ticking. If I win another one, he probably will have me skinned alive. And I still have no idea what to do.

“Too bad we're not stripping,” I joke, and I wish I could shove the words back into my mouth the moment they leave it. The boss's fist lands on the table with a loud thud. I crossed the line.

“You're taking the job.” It’s a statement, not a question. He waves his hand at one of the guards, and I feel the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed to my back.

I nod slowly, unable to breathe, as he explains the details. It's easy enough, no real risk, but I loathe myself already. Unless...?

“Let’s do it right now. I really need some cash.”

His eyes meet mine, and to my relief, he agrees and whispers the orders to the tea-drinking thug. I could almost hug them both. We drive to the dilapidated airport in the middle of nowhere, and my friend—I think I can call him that, I really love the guy right now—repeats the orders to his crew. They cannot be serious, I think. Just two guys?! They run to fetch the goods, and we're left on board alone. The engine hums nicely, the tank is full, and I can't believe my luck.

I turn to him with a big smile and ask for help. Nothing big, he just needs to press a few buttons. He reaches to the first one, and I act quickly. He might be big and strong, but as it often is with big and strong guys, he’s also awfully slow, and I learned long ago to play to my strengths. I knock my gun out of his hand and smash it right in his face. Time seems to slow down when I rush to deliver a flurry of blows and kicks. The attack catches him off-guard, he can't do much except shielding himself from me, passes out not before long, and I shove his limp body out of the door.

I hop into the chair and try to steady my shaking hands. My body already knows what to do, I don't even have to think about it. I can see the two thugs returning and trying to shoot me, but it's too late. I'm off the ground, and they can't do nothing about it. I started the day regretting I'm alive, but right now I couldn't be any happier. I really am one lucky bastard. Adrenaline still rushes through my veins, and I laugh hysterically. You see, my gun wasn't even loaded. I shot the last bullets a while ago.

I don't know how long I’m flying, but the fuel indicator slowly starts to drop and I land on the first clear patch I see. I don't know where I am, but I'm here, and I'm alive. I jump out of the cockpit and roll on the grass, laughing like a little kid. I can't believe I did it. I fucking did it!

I take a small flask out of my pocket and raise a toast to the big, starry sky.

To the new day, new life and new beginnings.

===

Very Important Question!

Maybe you can help me figure it out. What kind of plane it was? We know there are at least 14 seats, most likely in the 1+2 layout (there’s 11 students, 1 tour guide, and at least two free seats, because MC could sit next to Quinn or Sean during the turbulences).

Outside-looks-wise I’d say it’s King Air, but it’s too small. Twin Otter, on the other hand, has the right inside, but doesn’t look like it from the outside. HALP I CAN’T SLEEP UNTIL I KNOW

#playchoices #choices #endless summer #endless summer prequel #jake mckenzie #choices november challenge #choicesnovemberchallenge

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vex-bittys · 6 years

Text

The Lazy Factor: A FluffyHoods Story

This story is a gift for redtomatofan because I cannot get over their headcanon of Red and Slim being such good friends (and idjits). This is a continuation of an ask I sent from my main account about the TV remote.

Contains: SFW, some language, mild drinking, marijuana use, under the cut for length

Slim never imagined that he would someday discover a universe so similar to his own, much less a universe containing a bizarro copy of himself. Sure, Red lacked a little (a lot) in the height department, and his voice sounded like he smoked 4 packs a day when he only actually smoked 3. Still, any alternate version of himself was a guy he could see himself liking, and he definitely enjoyed spending time with Red.

Today found them sprawled on the couch with lofty plans to binge-watch TV until they dozed off mid-afternoon in a pile of their own snack garbage, beer bottles, and cigarette butts. Slim appeared to be poured over the back of the couch with his coccyx glued to the backrest, his spine stretched along the seat cushion, and his arms flopped uselessly over his upside down skull so that his hands dragged the floor.

Red used Slim’s ribcage as a pillow, letting his legs dangle over the armrest as he drummed it with the heels of his feet. They’d run into a problem already, but surely two former science nerds could overcome the tiny obstacle before them- a missing remote.

They’d already patted the couch apathetically to no avail when Red spotted the wayward item sitting on the TV stand next to the TV. With a snort, he pointed it out to Slim.

“who puts the remote next t' the tv anyway? if i wanted t’ get up, I’d go over there and turn the fucking thing on myself!” Red complained.

“‘s your house. your bro probably did it,” Slim pointed out without making the effort of actually pointing.

Red sighed. “now what?”

“dunno.” Slim rolled himself into an upright position like the world’s least talented acrobat, tipping Red off of him in the process. With a groan of supreme exertion, Slim stretched his leg out as far as it would go and wiggled his foot, hoping to dislodge the remote without getting up.If only he were a few feet taller, they’d be flipping channels by now.

Red and Slim sat in contemplative silence, staring at their former best buddy and current nemesis, the television remote. Red idly suggested just watching the blank screen until someone came home to help them. Slim suggested throwing things, but an impact from their end would just push the remote further away. They glared, stroking their jawbones and humming to themselves in hopes of hmm-ing up a solution.

“magic?” suggested Slim tiredly. Maybe if they discussed it long enough, they could just skip to the nap part of their day.

“i dunno,” hedged Red. “gotta focus the magic, move my hand, wait. seems like a lot of work. what’re you doing?”

Slim had his phone in his hand. He tapped a few keys and pressed the speaker button before tossing the phone onto the coffee table so they could talk into it together.

“... ‘lo?” The line crackled with static, nearly drowning out the greeting. Cell phones weren’t meant to connect across the multiverse. “... ‘ello?” The voice became clearer, and there could be no mistaking Stretch’s indolent drawl.

“stretch, dude, you gotta help us,” begged Red.

“... ‘s wrong?” Stretch sounded mildly concerned, pretty much the most concerned he ever got about anything.

“we’re at Red’s house, and the remote is across the room, and we don’t wanna get up,” whined Slim. He knew their Underswap counterpart would understand the gravity of the situation.

“... on m’... way...”

Red and Slim were still staring at Slim’s phone when Stretch appeared in a soft whoosh of moving air and lazy skeleton. The newcomer landed squarely on the backrest of the couch with his front end dangling between his Fellverse friends and the toes of his shoes barely touching the floor behind it.

“why didn’t you land by the tv?” demanded Red.

“because i have a better idea,” countered Stretch, tossing a bag onto the coffee table. He pulled out a small hover-drone with a grasping claw, showing it off proudly to the slack-jawed Red and Slim. The Cool Factor of the tech toy easily overpowered the Lazy Factor that prevented them from using boring old magic.

“it’s my house, so i get t' fly it,” declared Red.

“it’s my drone. i’m flying.” Stretch actually formed an ecto-tongue for the sole purpose of blowing a raspberry at Red. Slim seized the opportunity and snatched the control for the drone away from both of them.

”time’s a-wastin’,” said Slim, the skeleton in the room who showed absolutely no concern about wasting time ever.

Slim manipulated the controls for the drone and finally got it airborne. Red and Stretch cheered him on as he carefully guided the craft onward to collect their treasure.... and right into the TV. At first nothing happened, and three skeletons breathed loud sighs of relief until the TV pitched forward, smashing the drone and crashing onto the floor.

The edge of the TV caught the coffee table, flipping it onto the mess with a noisy crunch that boded ill for future television-centric adventures. Red and Stretch stared while Slim casually dropped the controller for the drone and kicked it under the sofa.

“grillby’s?” suggested Red.

“grillby’s,” the other two skeletons agreed.

Raucous laughter filled the bar, and alcohol and puns flowed freely, at least at the table shared by the three skeleton monsters. Other patrons, and the bar owner himself, were less enthused by the rowdy guests. Not a single one of the three was likely to actually pay the huge tab they ran up, and leverage over anyone other than Red meant little to Grillby. He had no desire at all to travel the multiverse collecting gold from infinite copies of the same obnoxious asshole.

The three skeletons sneakily passed a joint around under the table, not that their clandestine hand-offs fooled anyone. Any monster with eyeholes and some semblance of a nose could tell they weren’t puffing on regular cigarettes. Plus, they made ridiculous whisper-shouted puns about it, and a distinct lack of coordination and speed made their attempts at secrecy laughable at best. And laugh they did.

“i love this joint,” wheezed Stretch, “and the bar ain’t bad either.”

Red exhaled a cloud of smoke. “don’t be so blunt about it, dude.”

“don’t wanna get kicked out for our dubi-ous activities,” snickered Slim.

The three skeletons cackled and nearly fell out of their chairs.

Red, Stretch, and Slim stumbled home, drunk, high, and smeared with condiments where condiments should obviously not be smeared. As they burst through the door of Red’s house, the jumbled pile of electronics and furniture provided a not-quite-sobering-enough reminder of their previous activities.

“whaaaaaaaaaaaaa-” Stretch started to say, but he lost his train of thought mid word and just continued to make the vowel sound indefinitely in a higher octave.

Red snorted and elbowed Stretch to quiet him.

“wha... what happened... to the tv?” asked Slim, blinking comically and swaying on his feet.

“THAT’S WHAT WE’D LIKE TO KNOW.”

Three skulls rotated slowly towards the sound of the harsh, grating voice. Three armored skeletons stood in the living room, arms crossed in front of their ribcages- two as short as Red and one as tall as Slim and Stretch. Boots tapped impatiently on the carpet and accusing sockets narrowed.

Oh, shit.

It was their brothers!

INDEX

#vexy writes #underfell #swapfell #underswap #underfell sans #uf!sans #swapfell papyrus #sf!papyrus #underswap papyrus #us!papyrus #with a guest appearance by their brothers #busted #sfw #fluffyhoods #fluffyhoodies

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jisungsmochi · 6 years

Text

I Can’t Remember - Ong Seongwoo (college!au)

Here’s another installment of my wanna one x 5sos lyrics series!

(lyrics are in itallics)

words: 2.5k

college!au

OK LETS GET IT

“Hey pretty girl” Ong Seongwoo approached you while you were walking to your next class on campus. You knew who he was, you would be living under a rock if you didn’t. He and his friends were almost the kings of the campus. They threw the wildest parties, and overall had a reckless reputation. But not every person in the group was the same, otherwise you would never be friends with Hwang Minhyun. He was the one you felt had at least some idea on how to stay focused on actual school work. So when Seongwoo approached you, you had no idea how to react, you had never spoken to him before, despite being mutual friends with Minhyun, and you had no classes with him either. His personality seemed a bit too extreme for you, maybe that’s why you didn’t associate with him. It wasn’t like you hated him, you had no reason to, you just knew your personalities wouldn’t match that well.

“What’s your name?” he asked, placing himself so that his arms brushed against yours.

“it’s y/n” you bluntly answered while looking at the ground.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ong seongwoo and while we’re conversing, what’s your number?” he slyly slipped into the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?” you looked up at him for the first time since he started talking to you.

“what’s your number, there’s a party tonight, you can come if you wanna! I even have the keys to my dad’s yellow Hummer!” he explained quite quickly, leaving you more confused.

“I’m sorry, but I barely even know you, and parties aren’t my thing” you declined, feeling bad you turned down his offer after he kindly asked.

“Oh, it’s okay, maybe you’ll change your mind. Here’s the details though. See you around” he awkwardly smiled at you before walking away. You sighed softly, maybe he didn’t have such a big ego as people expected.

You were having your next class with Minhyun. While the teacher was writing notes on the board, you leaned over to him.

“Psst, one of your friends asked me to go to a party tonight.” You told him.

He looked at you with a blank expression before saying “and I’m guessing that was Seongwoo. Look, you don’t have to go, but I think you’ll have fun. And besides, Seongwoo doesn’t just simply invite people in person, he usually just sends a mass text to the invite list.” Minhyun explained to you. You were even more curious now. Why did Seongwoo only invite you in person? Even when he didn’t even know you that well.

“do you think it’s weird that he asked me?” you tried to find some perfect explanation.

“sort of. But you shouldn’t worry about it, just come. You’ll have fun and meet some new people. I’ll be there if you wanna leave, and I’ll walk you back to your dorm” Minhyun offered, giving you an encouraging smile. He seemed convincing enough.

“Okay fine, I’ll go. But don’t tell Seongwoo, it’s going to be a surprise” you chuckled to yourself, causing Minhyun to just nod along. Maybe you’ll have fun after all.

“Took a minute but I found my mates,

she was there acting cool

so we made her wait.”

Seongwoo showed up to the party later than the rest of his friends. He had been driving around in his dad’s yellow hummer, picking up alcohol and other party supplies they needed. Once he arrived, he instantly laid his eyes on you. You were standing next to Minhyun, with a cup of sprite in your hand and your arms folded as Minhyun was talking about his plans for the night, which consisted of taking care of the other boys. Seongwoo nervously walked up to the group of boys and you, greeting each boy. Once he reached you, he couldn’t speak. You gave him an odd look before greeting him instead,

“Hey, how are you?” you asked awkwardly, causing him to smile.

“I’m pretty well, I thought you said you weren’t coming” he continued.

“yeah, but I had a change of mind” you explained.

“You wanted to see me again, didn’t you?” his comment caused you to blush, you were flustered and didn’t know how to reply. He just laughed along, and shook his head.

“and may I just say, you look amazing” he whispered in your ear, causing you to look at him with your mouth agape. He laughed even louder at your expression.

You smacked his shoulder lightly before rolling your eyes.

The night was just getting started.

The night took many different twists and turns. Daniel and Sungwoon were dancing on tables, while Minhyun were smacking their feet in order for them to come down. Jisung and Jaehwan were observing Woojin and Guanlin playing ping pong using their heads. Daehwi was on the dance floor, challenging random people to have a dance battle. Jinyoung was recording him because he ended up dance battling a pot plant. Jihoon on the other hand was pouring water into people cups and telling them it was vodka, to see if they would act drunk. While all of this was happening, you were sitting outside of the reckless house, with no other than Ong Seongwoo.

You two had been talking for a while, just getting to know each other. While you were happily sipping on your 4th cup of sprite, he was downing whatever alcoholic substance he had been consuming throughout the night. You felt like you were dragging him away from the party, but he wouldn’t leave your side.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go and party?” you urged him slowly.

“But I like talking to you” he looked up at you, not saying anything else.

You didn’t know how to reply, but as you were about to open your mouth, Guanlin interrupted you.

“Um yeah sorry to interrupt, but Seongwoo, Jaehwan got his head stuck in a vase again. We don’t wanna break it because we know it’s your mum’s and like, what should we do?” Guanlin stuttered, feeling embarrassed of the situation.

“Oh for god’s sake, Jaehwan. I’m sorry but I’ll be right back” he spoke to you, you nodding in reply. He rushed up and ran into the house. You looked at your phone and saw it was only 10pm. You decided to find Minhyun and give him a break from controlling all those kids.

After Seongwoo was forced to smash his mother’s vase in order to get Jaehwan’s head out. He completely forgot you were outside waiting for him. Instead, his friends were offering him drinks to thank him for his sacrifice. Seongwoo skulled down the drinks, immediately feeling the after effects. He screamed at the top of his lungs and made his way to the dance floor, going absolutely ballistic.

Meanwhile you were outside with Minhyun, talking about your time with Seongwoo.

“So was I right? You had fun tonight, didn’t you?” he smirked, softly nudging you as you sat at the door step of the house.

“I hate it when you’re always right, but yes, I did have fun. Seongwoo is an interesting person, to say the least” you chuckled. Minhyun nodded in agreement.

“Does this mean that you likeeee him?” Minhyun teased. You shoved him hard, causing him to spill some of his drink.

“I don’t like him like that! He’s just good company!” you defended.

“Alright, whatever you say” Minhyun rolled his eyes at your response.

The next few events seemed almost unbelievable.

It wasn’t until the next morning, where everything had to be pieced together.

The 11 boys were scattered all over the house, falling asleep on the oddest places. Daniel and Sungwoon were laying on the kitchen counters with left over snacks surrounding them. Jihoon and Guanlin were asleep in the laundry, Guanlin laying on top of the washing machine as Jihoon found a comfy spot on the tiled floor. Woojin fell asleep in one of the storage closets, Seongwoo had in his house, using random items to use as a blanket and pillow. Jinyoung and Daehwi were passed out in the living room, but rather than laying on the couches, the boys’ bodies were distorted into some awkward positions as they laid on the carpeted floor. Jaehwan fell asleep while sitting on the toilet, he wasn’t using it, he was simply waiting until he sobered up, so he could go find a spare room to sleep in, but eventually just dozed off while sitting upright. And as expected, Jisung and Minhyun gained access to a guest bedroom and fell asleep peacefully.

As for Seongwoo.

There was a bit of a situation.

He woke up in his own bed, but he was lying next to you.

“Last night what a blur,

woke up lying next to her,

last night, made a mess

doesn’t get better than this”

Seongwoo’s eyes widened at the sight of you peacefully lying next to him, cuddled up with one of his pillows. You were dressed in one of his shirts, making him look at his own body to see that he himself didn’t have a shirt on. This made him worry even more. Did you and him do something last night? Did you, you know, do the deed? There were so many things going through his head. He wanted to ask you himself but felt bad if he woke you up. Instead he checked his phone, he had 25 texts and a call from his mum. Last night must have been good, because Seongwoo really can’t remember a thing.

Seongwoo made his way to his bathroom, to see Jaehwan sitting on his toilet. Seongwoo let out a high shriek, causing Minhyun and Jisung to wake up from the guest bedroom next door.

“What the hell?” Seongwoo groaned, pushing Jaehwan’s shoulder, who instantly woke up.

“Dude I’m sorry, I lost track of time and I was tired and ugh, wait. Bro, where’s your shirt?” Jaehwan questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, shit. I-it’s none of your business!” Seongwoo defended. At this point, Minhyun and Jisung were at the bathroom door.

“For god sakes Jaehwan, pull yourself together!” Jisung sighed before pulling the younger boy with him, downstairs.

Minhyun eyes Seongwoo up and down, realising that he was only in his boxers at this point.

“Minhyun! What the hell happened last night?!” Seongwoo frantically asked, pulling at his hair and pacing back and forth.

“You really don’t remember?” Minhyun chuckled lightly.

“No! and I’ve got the biggest headache, I need aspirin, my head’s killing me” Seongwoo opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out some aspirin. Minhyun just rolled his eyes at the clueless boy and went downstairs to meet the rest.

Seongwoo groaned loudly, chasing Minhyun down the stairs.

“Tell me what happened!!” he yelled while skipping down the stairs, meeting the rest of the boys.

The boys were now all staring at Seongwoo, still in just his boxers, and laughed hysterically.

“Gosh you’re a mess” Daniel snickered, slapping Seongwoo on the shoulder.

“Hey, who was that girl from last night anyway?” Daniel further commented, causing the other boys to giggle in response.

“who? Y/n? WHAT DID WE DO? SOMEONE TELL ME!” Seongwoo spoke harshly.

“We didn’t DO anything” they all turned to see you at the bottom of the stairs, in Seongwoo’s shirt and shorts.

“Well, we didn’t do anything like what you’re intending” you sighed, crossing your arms as you joined the boys.

They were all speechless. You dragged Seongwoo upstairs again, back into his bedroom to explain everything. He secretly liked how you held his hand while dragging him up the stairs. You closed the door behind you, he took a seat on his bed while you sat across from him.

“you got really drunk last night” you started, not looking into his eyes.

“I think we had established that” he chuckled lightly, trying to make the air not so tense.

“Seongwoo, you went streaking passed your neighbour’s house! Someone was going to post it on Facebook. And if our professors see something like that, you could be in huge trouble” you began to explain. That would be a reason why he didn’t have a shirt on, sort of.

Seongwoo placed his head in his hands, unable to look at you at the moment.

You sighed before patting his shoulder, “But luckily you have the best friends on the planet. Daniel and Woojin went to beat up the dudes who were going to post it” you tried to relieve him. Seongwoo just nodded, not saying a word.

You felt awful that he was embarrassed of his actions. You pulled his hands from his face and held them in your lap. He looked up at you finally before saying

“I’m usually not like this. I know I party hard but I wouldn’t do this normally. There isn’t any excuse for my behaviour” he shamed himself, tears almost falling from his eyes. You sighed softly before further explaining.

“Do you know what you did for me last night?” he gave you a confused look before shaking his head, your hands still holding his.

“I got a bit tipsy myself, and you were the same, not as drunk as earlier. I kept complaining that I was cold in my dress and that I needed someone to hold me” you began, his smirked when you mentioned someone holding you.

“And you decided to literally take off your shirt and give it to me to change into, right in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone. I appreciated it a lot because you did it so instantly! You also gave me a pair of these really cool basketball shorts which are comfortable as heck by the way!” you giggled softly at the entire situation, causing him to smile widely at you.

“and that’s why you’re still in boxers and I was next to you, because you held me through the rest of the night, and I appreciate it very much”

before he could say anything back, you pressed your lips against his, pushing him down on the bed, laying on top of him. His eyes widened with disbelief. He was really kissing you? You were kissing him? It seemed like a dream.

You pulled away shyly, pushing yourself off him. But he decided to pull you back down, looking at you softly.

“I really like you” he almost blurts out, still smiling like an idiot at you.

“I really like you too” you whisper before pecking his cheek lightly and pulling yourself away from him, sitting upright.

“I just have one question” he smirked at you, making you feel a little uneasy.

“sure” you shrugged it off.

“did you like the video of me streaking?” he winked at you before bursting into laughter. You hit him on the shoulder playfully as your face started burning red.

Gosh was he gonna be a handful.

#ong seongwoo #ong #seongwoo #ong seongwoo imagine #wanna one imagine #wanna one scenario #ong seongwoo scenario #fluff #kpop imagine

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