Master List


All links lead to my writing community crankdatmanboob  that I share with my lovely cousin. Entries in the comm are currently unlocked and hope to keep them that way, so please don't abuse the access. I tend to have long gaps between updates since writer's block seems to love me much more than i love it, and real life often gets in the way.Feel free to join or add me as a friend and don't forget to drop me a comment to tell me how i'm doing ^^ <3

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Time to Make Time

Title: Time to Make Time
Length: Oneshot (~2600w)
Pairing: Chen/Suho
Rating: PG
Genre: general, fluff

Time to Make Time

12:06pm. Still plenty of time.

Joonmyun shakes his watch back down his wrist and smiles at the boy across the table, the corners of his lips faltering just a bit because this is the fifth time he's explained how to derive a logarithm to Chanyeol, and yet the younger boy is still staring back at him with wide, terrified eyes like the first time he even approached the topic. Tutoring was supposed to end over half an hour ago and Joonmyun still had so much to do before his plans for the night, but Chanyeol looked so helpless he couldn't possibly abandon the poor boy before his exam tomorrow. With a soft sigh and another tentative glance at his watch, Joonmyun turns back to the first page of Chanyeol’s lecture notes and erases his whiteboard.

"Alright, let's take this from the top," he says, smile bright as ever as Chanyeol nods enthusiastically and readies his pen to write the equation for a sixth time.

1:38pm. Almost seven and a half hours left. Still time. Plenty of time.

Joonmyun repeats it like a mantra in between rehearsals of his schedule, his feet practically skating over the sidewalk as he rushes across campus to the business administration building for his monthly SGA meeting. As (student) treasurer of the university, he'd had to put together a pitch for the board of trustees to invest in a new data analysis software for the statistics department- the one they had was a dreadful mess from the 90's for God's sake- and although he knew the presentation was perfect down to the custom fonts he'd programmed in himself, he needed to make sure it was 100% show ready. The presentation itself wasn't very long, but it had taken him days to get it just right, forcing him to reschedule Chanyeol's tutoring session and move his golf lessons to this morning, which in turn had forced him to push back his volunteer hours- but not too far because he had an honors society meeting and Linear Algebra to attend- and put off writing a paper for his own classes. All of it had to be done today, and all before 9pm.

Joonmyun looks at his watch once more as he pulls open the doors to their conference room and takes a deep breath. Plenty of time.

3:17pm. A little under six hours left. Still time.

Joonmyun stifles a yawn as he diligently copies the problems his teacher wrote out on the board, pencils screeching from all sides as the rest of his class does the same. His own notes are subpar at best, his mind continuously wandering between the lecture, his final paper, and a certain Kim Jongdae. The latter had been the reason for his strict deadline for the night, and Joonmyun couldn't stop thinking about it.

His cramped schedule had kept him from seeing his friend very often this year, but somehow Jongdae had managed to catch him on a rare off day a few weeks ago and invited him to his junior recital with a hopeful smile. Joonmyun had only debated with himself for half a second before agreeing; junior and senior recitals were a big deal for vocal majors like Jongdae, and it took guts to invite someone to one of the biggest evaluations of your college career. Jongdae had been shocked but absolutely ecstatic that his offer was being accepted, and didn't stop babbling about it until Joonmyun had to leave for his next class. He'd waved Joonmyun off with a bright "see you there hyung!" and texted him periodically to make sure he was still coming, probably still in shock that Joonmyun could really fit it in with everything else on his plate. Joonmyun figured it was the least he could do after practically ignoring him the whole year.

With a start, Joonmyun realizes that he's been spacing out again, clearing his throat twice before shaking his head and focusing on his professor once again. He has to pay attention if he wants to keep his almost perfect score in the class- getting distracted this much will never do. Still, the clock ticking away the seconds in the back of the classroom is a constant reminder of the dwindling time he has left to finish everything before Jongdae's recital. He knows he can do it. He's done so much more with so much less, but the echoing clack clack clack of the second hand plays with his brain as he tries once again to focus on decomposing matrices.

5:41pm. Over three hours left and one unread message. Still time.

Joonmyun grins at the text lighting up his phone and slides his finger across the screen. A short string of texts between he and Jongdae appears beneath his fingertips, and the latest one has him stifling a short laugh.

From: Kim Jongdae

Hyuuuuung~ I'm so nervous >.<;;;;;;; what should I do???

The next line is filled with various worried and crying emojis, and Joonmyun can't help but snort. He can understand Jongdae's nerves, but he knows they are all unwarranted.

You'll do great Jongdae-ah!

He sends, followed by a quick "Kim Jongdae hwaiting!" as and afterthought. He only has to wait a few seconds before his screen lights up again, the sound of a swishing lightsaber just barely cutting through the rumble of the crowded cafeteria. He'd decided to grab a quick bite while he worked on his paper and waited for his honors society meeting to roll around, and his rumbling stomach had thanked him endlessly for it.

From: Kim Jongdae

You're still coming tonight, right hyung?

The message is emojiless this time, but it makes Joonmyun smile nonetheless.

Of course I am. Wouldn't miss it for the world!

He's completely sincere in his words, and he just hopes Jongdae takes him seriously. Once he reads the younger's reply, he's not so sure "seriously" was the right word.

From: Kim Jongdae

You better hold on to that big brain of yours then, because I'm going to blow your mind~~~ ;D

It's enough to get an actual laugh out of Joonmyun this time, and he lets the pleasant sound roll out of him as he answers with a string of shocked emojis and thumbs up.

6:25pm. Still time.

7:58pm. Still not terrible.

9:04pm. Not a disaster.

10:47pm. Joonmyun is utterly fucked.

The heels of his nice dress shoes come screeching to a halt outside the auditorium as Joonmyun reaches for the doors, jerking the handles wildly back and forth only to find them solidly immobile. Locked.

Joonmyun lets out a pathetic whine as he sinks to the tiled floor of the lobby, defeat washing over him in massive waves as he closes his eyes. He'd missed it. Completely and utterly missed it. He's just about to pull out his phone and text a slew of apologies to Jongdae when the doors suddenly vanish from behind his back and he's left staring up at a pair of droopy, khol-rimmed eyes.

"Joonmyun hyung?" the boy says as he leans over Joonmyun's slumped form and pauses from loosening the bow tie at his neck. "What are you doing out here? The recital ended almost an hour ago."

Joonmyun immediately springs to his feet and grips tightly at the boy's arms as he shakes him back and forth. "Baekhyun!" he blurts out. "Please, Jongdae, is he still here? I have to talk to him. I have to- it's really important."

"Yeah he's here," Baekhyun answers with a backwards tilt of his head. "He's not very happy though. I think he-"

The words are barely out of Baekhyun’s mouth before Joonmyun is rushing past him and into the brightly lit auditorium. Only the cleaning staff and a few decorations are left aside from a lone figure sitting at the end of the second row, his head dropped back against the headrest and eyes staring blankly up at the stage lights. Everyone else seems to be making a wide circle around the figure, but Joonmyun doesn't slow his pace.

Apologies are already pouring out of Joonmyun's mouth as he skids to a stop in front of Jongdae's row, but the younger doesn't even bother to lift his head. "Jongdae I'm so so sorry! I lost track of time working on my paper so I was late to my meeting and we had to discuss budget so we went over time and then the bus broke down and I-"

"You missed it," Jongdae deadpans, and the older slumps.

"I know Jongdae, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"All I asked for was an hour hyung." He finally turns to look at the older boy, and Joonmyun’s heart positively aches. Jongdae’s voice is tight, and as soon as the light falls over his face, Joonmyun can see the deep frown etched onto his naturally upturned lips and the faint red rimming his eyes.

“Jongdae I'm so sorry," Joonmyun whispers as he reaches for his hand, but the other draws it away.

"You missed it," Jongdae repeats. "I know you're really busy and all, but you should have just told me you weren't coming." The vocalist stands with a sharp sigh and pushes past Joonmyun, unintentionally but not apologetically knocking him off balance as he storms by. He rushes down the suddenly empty walkway and Joonmyun scrambles to catch up, calling Jongdae's name until he finally catches him at the door, hands shaking and guilt practically suffocating him.

“Jongdae that’s not- I- I really really wanted to be here Jongdae I swear,” Joonmyun begs. The younger rolls his eyes and makes to leave, but Joonmyun grabs his wrist and barrels on. “I can make it up to you! Please let me make it up to you. Anything you want-  anything at all,” Joonmyun promises. He grips Jongdae tighter in fear that the other will just walk away, leave the auditorium now and never speak to him again, but to Joonmyun’s relief, he doesn’t. The skepticism remains hard in Jongdae’s eyes, but Joonmyun can see a tiny crack in his resolve, just enough for him to get through and save whatever chance he has left.

“Anything?” Jongdae asks slowly, one eyebrow raised as he considers Joonmyun out of the corner of his eye, and Joonmyun can’t nod fast enough.

“Yes, anything at all.” He braces himself for the worst when Jongdae sighs and pulls his wrist away, already feeling the burning hole in his wallet before Jongdae even speaks. But to his surprise, it never actually comes.

Jongdae’s eyes are still hard as he folds his arms over his chest, lips pulled tight as he makes his request. “Fine,” he mutters. “Then buy me coffee.”

Joonmyun blinks rapidly. “What?” he deadpans, and Jongdae makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat

“Buy me coffee!” he whines. “Right now! And from that expensive place next to the jewelry store- no flaking out!”

Joonmyun’s mouth drops open a bit, but Jongdae remains firm. The shop Jongdae’s talking about it right down the street and really not all that expensive in the grand scheme of things. Joonmyun had expected a bit… worse. He recovers quickly though and nods, already pulling his keys out of his pocket as he accepts. “Y-yeah. Okay. Sure. Absolutely,” he stutters. “What do you want me to get-”

“Pfft, please Hyung. There’s no way I’m letting you go by yourself. I may never see you or my coffee again,” Jongdae interrupts, and Joonmyun is once again left baffled as Jongdae leads them both out the door. They’re just about to get in Joonmyun’s car when Jongdae speaks again, voice still whiny and indignant as he makes another request.

“And you’re getting me a muffin,” the younger demands. “Two muffins, actually.”

“Yes yes, of course,” Joonmyun agrees over the roof of his car, nodding rapidly and completely missing the way Jongdae’s hard mask momentarily breaks into a grin.

Joonmyun knows he’s not quite forgiven yet though, even after they spend hours talking to each other over coffee with too much sugar in it and three muffins, but when they’re finally kicked out and driving back to the university, Joonmyun is determined to change that. He makes plans with a hesitant Jongdae for the next weekend that he makes absolutely certain to keep. He writes it three times on every calendar and reminder sheet he owns the second he gets home, and tapes a sticky note to the inside of his front door for good measure. It’s a bit of an overkill as Baekhyun makes sure to point out when he comes over in the middle of the week, but Joonmyun brushes the comment off. He’ll be damned if he ever misses plans with Jongdae again, and if that’s what he has to do to make sure he won’t, then so be it.

Jongdae is none the wiser when Joonmyun shows up at his place for a movie marathon, and Joonmyun spends the entire day realizing just how much he’s missed the younger boy as they snuggle up under an old blanket with a bowl of popcorn. He even missed the way Jongdae drools on his shoulder when he nods off twenty minutes into the fourth Star Wars movie, and he’s more than happy to follow the other into dreamland with a hand running through Jongdae’s soft bangs and a kiss to his forehead.


11:36am. Still plenty of time.

Joonmyun adjusts the phone against his ear and tries to be as still as possible while listening to the words coming form the other line.

I swear to God Hyung, if you miss this-” the voice crackles through, but Joonmyun cuts him off.

“I’m not going to miss it Jongdae calm down,” Joonmyun says with a soft laugh as Baekhyun straightens the tie around his neck. It’s pale blue because Jongdae had been absolutely mortified at the idea of them both wearing all white, and now that Joonmyun has actually seen the outfit all together, he has to agree. He assures Jongdae at least another two times that there’s no way he could possibly miss it when he’s already in the building, but he’s still smiling long after he hangs up. A fluttering excitement is dancing through his veins as he takes everything in, hands shaking and breath purposefully slow. There’s no place in the world he’d rather be right now.

He gives his phone another short glance a few minutes later despite Baekhyun griping at him to stop moving so much, and his heart practically erupts with butterflies at the message he sees flashing on the screen.

From: Kim Jongdae

I can’t wait to see you Hyung

The message is simple enough, even followed by a cute smiley face, but Joonmyun’s entire body feels like it’s floating. He taps out a quick reply before Baekhyun confiscates his phone altogether, and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are going to go numb with how hard he’s smiling.

Yeah, can’t wait to see you too.

11:59am. Still time.

The doors to the sanctuary open. Light and music and utter elation floods over Joonmyun as he takes a step forward. Everyone turns to look.

12:00pm. Not a disaster.

Jongdae walks through the doors and down the aisle to where Joonmyun is waiting, his pale grey suit rustling with every step and being drown out by the piano trilling away in the background. His smile stretches so wide it must hurt his face, and Joonmyun thinks that he’s never looked more beautiful.


They exchange vows.


They say “I do.”

12:05pm. Joonmyun is utterly and hopelessly in love.

a/n: was that a cop-out ending? absolutely \o/

This Ain't You

Title: This Ain't You
Length: Oneshot (~1700w)
Pairing: Kris/Any (written in 2nd person with no gender references)
Rating: PG-13 (for drug/alcohol references and language)
Genre: general, fluff
A/N: i don't usually do someone/reader, but apparently yeoseong's dreams inspire me to write things about yifan being dumb :x

This Ain't You

The second you walk through the door, you have to fight back choking on your own breath. The air is almost too thick to see through and reeks of booze and weed as you push your way into the hall. There’s at least three people stumbling around in front of you, but you can’t make out a single face and it takes a second to stop yourself from reaching for the glasses you know are already on your face.

He is so dead when you find him. So dead.

More people come crashing down the hallway as you make your way to what you guess could be the living room, tripping over beer cans and plastic cups the entire way through. A few people try to shove a drink or a roll of paper into your hand, but despite the tempting offer, you refrain and keep your eye on the prize. It’s rather ironically convenient, you muse as you finally get close enough to make out the figures slumped all over the couch, that your prize is already wrapped up for you with a nice linen bow.

You don’t know who the people sitting beside him are and right now you don’t really care- all you care about is that despite the chaos thrumming through the rest of the house, Yifan seems to be relatively safe and unharmed. He does, however, look blasted out of his fucking mind.

The smoke is much thicker here than it was at the door, and tiny flashes of glowing red break through the haze every time you blink your eyes (which is a lot, because fuck this stuff burns why would anyone in their right mind ever do this?). You almost voice your thoughts when Yifan’s droopy eyelids perk up a bit and a slow, slow smile spreads across his lips.

“Babe~ you’re here~” he drawls, much too loudly for how close you are now, but despite it all, that smile still sets a few butterflies loose in your stomach. He raises his arm in attempt to reach out to you, but somehow falls pitifully short. “What took you so long?” he asks with a helpless giggle, the wiggling of his fingers doing nothing to help with the butterflies.

There are a million ways you can answer his question, from telling him that it took you less than ten minutes to get there to the incoherent screaming you were doing at your steering wheel during those less than ten minutes, but instead you decide to address the most pressing issue. “Yifan,” you start slowly, leveling him with the calmest stare you can manage, “you’re wearing a toga.”

It’s as if the realization comes in slow motion; the dopey smile slips from his face and is replaced with a dull confusion, his eyes squinting and eyebrows pinching a line into his forehead before he looks down at the crumpled sheet pathetically draped over his chest. “Ohhhh,” he breathes out. “Did I do that?”

A flash of anger surges through you for a second, a brief you better have done that yourself, crossing your mind before you can shake it away. “Doesn’t matter. Grab your shit, we’re leaving,” you answer, and before Yifan can process the words, you’re already pulling him up off the couch, his practically dead weight draping across your shoulders when his knees refuse to hold him.

“Babe noooo~” he whines, this time so close to your face that you should have noticed the lack of alcohol on his breath. He falls into you anyway, wrapping his bare arms around your shoulders and laughing slow with his lips pressed against your neck. “Mmmm you look so pretty,” he says, and the butterflies go nuts again.

The way the gentle press of his lips turns into a sloppy attempt at a kiss makes your own knees a bit weak, but you manage to drag him away from the party and shove him into the passenger seat of your car with little incident. He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the drive, and halfway to his apartment you notice that his eyes have a lot more clarity than they should for the state you found him in just five minutes before. The dopy, carefree expression on his face is completely gone, and his teeth are diligently worrying away at his bottom lip, fingers twisting the seams of his makeshift toga with too much precision for someone in his state. With a sigh you pull into the nearest parking lot, empty at 2am on a Thursday, and turn off the car.

“Yifan…” you start slowly. He doesn’t even twitch as he stares blankly out the window. He still reeks of weed and booze he probably didn’t even drink, but you know without a doubt that it’s your Yifan sitting there this time, looking properly scolded despite you not saying a word yet. You don’t let it deter you though; he’s still getting it whether he feels sorry or not. The speech you threw together on the drive over bubbles up and immediately dies in your throat, the only thing you can actually manage to say making it out on a whisper rather than a roar.

“What the hell was all that?” is all you manage to say, and it’s not quite the tongue lashing you had prepared, but it gets your message across all the same.

Yifan sighs deeply and looks even further away from you, some streetlight on the other side of the parking lot getting the brunt of whatever expression he’s making, and his fingers finally let go of the hem of his toga. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but that’s not good enough.

You turn to face him in your seat and stare until he spares you a glance out of the corner of his eye, quickly looking away once your eyes meet. You wait for him to say more, but he remains silent.

“Seriously Yifan?” you start again. “Beer, weed, getting undressed at a party just so you can wear a… a stupid sheet? This isn’t you.”

There isn’t nearly as much bite to the question as there should have been, but he winces all the same. Despite all Yifan’s stupid decisions, you still have a soft spot for the man, and he looks so pathetic right now that you can’t bring yourself to scold him properly. His answer doesn’t quite help.

His fingers return to worrying the seams of his toga, and he shift to keep his eyes solidly locked on the floor of your car. “I… I know. I think that’s why I texted you,” he mutters. “I think I just got caught up in everything and just… I didn’t actually drink anything and nearly choked to death after taking just one hit so… I didn’t… really do anything past that.”

You stare, long and hard as he speaks, and it’s almost charmingly pathetic how he wrings his hands in the cheap microfiber sheet after the silence gets too thick for him to bear. It takes everything in you not to reach over and comfort him, but you hold strong and keep your arms at your sides.

“You don’t have to impress any of them,” you say instead- a compromise of sorts. “If that’s the kind of crap you have to do to keep those people as friends, then they aren’t worth it. You deserve a lot better than that.”

He nods slowly and draws his lip between his teeth, chewing on it as he thinks. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “You’re right.”

“You have people that love you for who you are,” you continue, “and that person isn’t the one I had to drag out of a cheap drug party.”

He doesn’t say anything this time, just blinks at the floor as he lets your words soak in. You both know it’s not the first time he’s done dumb things just to impress people, but this is by far the most out of character. You want to still be mad- you really really do- but without your permission, your hand reaches out to slip beneath his and your other comes up to turn his face toward you, his eyes finally rising from the floor to look at your face. You offer a smile, and he answers with a half-hearted curl of his own lips.

I love you for who you are Yifan,” you say, and his smile strengthens.

“Yeah?” he answers back, smile slipping into somewhat of a self-depreciating grin. “Even when I do dumb shit like this?”

You have half a mind to smack him with the hand still resting on his cheek, but you lean in to kiss it instead. “Yes, even when you do dumb shit like this,” you say with a laugh, and the next time you go in to kiss his cheek, he turns just enough for your lips meet- just a gentle press before you’re pulling back and smacking him for real.

“Hey! No real kisses for you yet!” you shout. He has the audacity to give you a wounded look before immediately breaking into that goofy smile you can’t help falling for, and it’s right then that you know you’re utterly screwed.

He tries to trick you into another while you’re still close, but you catch him this time, smooshing your hand against his face before he can get too far and laughing the entire way. “No, I’m still mad at you!” you lie, and it’s only after two more half-assed attempts at blocking him that he settles down enough for you to start the car, radio blasting your favorite songs as you drive past his apartment and on to yours. It’s there that you pretend not to notice him sneaking behind you in your bedroom, his long arms wrapping around your waist as he bends in for a real kiss that you “aren’t prepared” to block. He smiles into it, wide, gummy, and stupidly in love when you don’t pull away, and you fall asleep with a cheap microfiber sheet wrapped tightly around you both.


I'll format this when I have more time

yeoseong i'm sorry i did a thing

Title: Lord Have Mercy on the Buttons
Pairing: Kris/Any (written in second person)
Rating: PG-13 for later implications?
A/N: fml FINALS and yet this happens. SIGH.

Lord Have Mercy on the Buttons

Of all things in this world that are not okay, this is definitely in the top ten.

He walks through the front door entirely too casually with exhaustion hanging heavy in his eyes, effortlessly hanging his keys on a hook you have to tip-toe to reach and fluffing his hair when you see it- just a sliver of the white dress shirt he bought last week peaking through the opening of his black jacket and hugging his chest like you desperately wanted to. It only gets worse when he walks further into the room and attempts to remove said black jacket. His shoulders pull back as his long arms loop around behind him to grab the opposite sleeve, the opening of his coat splitting further to reveal the white dress shirt below, pearly buttons pulling the fabric tight and straining to hold on.


It’s out before you can even think to stop it, but to Yifan’s credit, he only quirks an eyebrow at you and slides his jacket the rest of the way off as if he wasn’t driving you completely insane.

“Babe,” you call out to him, more consciously this time as he brushes past you and continues into the kitchen to snag a water bottle from the fridge. Again he quirks an eyebrow at you and pairs it with a hum of acknowledgment as he gulps the water down, head back and throat working around each swallow like oh hell no.

You feel something in your face twitch. “Babe… how much did your shirt cost?” you call innocently enough. He pauses for a split second, glances down at the white fabric, shrugs. Your eye definitely twitches this time. “Was it expensive?” you ask slowly, this time stepping closer to him and prying the bottle from his hand to toss it carelessly to the counter.

His eyebrows furrow, bending together in confusion as you come to a stop right in front of him and run your fingers lightly across those poor white buttons. “Umm, I don’t think so?” he answers, and oh my God sometimes he’s so dumb it actually hurts.

You exhale sharply through your teeth and try again. “Do you want to keep it?” you ask before he can get another breath out.


“Do you. want. to keep. your shirt?” Your fingers tighten unmercifully around his collar and you swear if he doesn’t catch on within the next five seconds you’re going to explode.

“Um. I guess? Why would I buy it if I didn’t want-”

He never was very good at this part, you muse. You rise up on your toes to press your lips flush against his jawline as it’s still moving around his words, delicate skin skimming over the soft curve just as he cuts himself short. “I want to rip it off of you,” you whisper, and now you’ve got his attention.

He freezes in your hold and you feel his throat work around another swallow as his breathing becomes shallow. “Oh,” he says softly, and a smirk spreads across your face.

“Oh,” you echo back with enough restraint as you can muster right before gripping the other side of his pristine white collar and tearing it apart.

A/N2: so this only took me like less than 10 minutes and i guess this was my celebration for clearing my first final super early? :D?

Exo Drabble Dump 2

Title: Radiance
Length: Drabble (~300w)
Pairing: Kris/Suho
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, Dark Themes
A/N: this started as something really fluffy, but somehow it... didn't end that way :| it was supposed to be borderline cavity-inducing

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Title: (Untitled)
Length: Drabble (135w)
Pairing: Luhan/Yixing
Rating: G
Genre: General

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Title: Holding On
Length: Drabble (~350w)
Pairing: Kris/Suho, implied Changmin/Victoria and Baekhyun/any
Rating: PG
Genre: General

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Exo Drabble Dump

Title: Tuesday Sounds Nice
Length: Drabble (~250w)
Pairing: Kai/ Luhan
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight Angst

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Title: Maybe Next Year
Length: Drabble (~400w)
Pairing: Kris/Suho
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight Angst
A/N: Based on the Miracles in December MV and written for a prompt in exopromptmeme

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Title: Replacement
Length: Drabble (~400w)
Pairing: Kai/Luhan, Luhan/Sehun
Rating: PG-13 for implied smut
Genre: Slight Angst

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Hi Everyone ^^;

It's been…. a really long time, right? Unfortunately my unplanned hiatus does not end with particularly good news, and I want to let you all know that I have more or less discontinued Hello and Letters From War for multiple reasons ((not really sure if anyone was even still waiting after this long regardless)). First and foremost, I have all but lost inspiration for both of them and Hello honestly just hurts me now with how horribly off and wrong I've been with pretty much all of it. After taking classes and having experiences with people who struggle with some of the things I've brought up in Hello, I've realized that most of my self-research has been in vain and I took more artistic liberty than I can be comfortable with anymore. I knew that it might end up this way when I started this, but I never imagined that it would bother me nearly as much as it does. As for LFW, I just don't have the will to finish.

Both fics are completely finished in my head, so I might one day post abridged versions of what I wanted to happen, but that will be a long time in the making. School has also been eating most of my time since I'm a premed student, so I honestly haven't written anything more than a few short drabbles in the past year or so. I'm really sorry to have to say all of this, but it needs to be done for those of you that were still hanging on. I am honestly and truly sorry.

With all that said though, I have found quite a bit of inspiration in EXO, and those few drabbles are mostly for them ((with a few SuJu ones i think?)). I'll be posting them every now and then, but for now I won't be committing myself to anything longer than a short multi-shot at best.

If any of you really want to know the ending to either LFW or Hello, I can offer you a summary of what I wanted to happen and a few written-out pieces for the end. If you want them, just drop me a message, and I'll be more than happy to give that to you. I told a friend of mine that if I leave anything untouched for two years, that I will tell her the ending and everything else I had for it, so I figured that I should extend the same offer to all of you, even though Hello hasn't quite hit the two-year mark yet. You can't even imagine how sorry I am about having to say this, so I feel that it's the least I can do <3

I still love all of you guys and appreciate you all for your support and for sticking with me for so long, but now I'm shifting gears a bit and carrying on with what gives me inspiration now. Welcome to my new era of shame: EXO

oh look at that...

Title: Hello
Length: 13/?
Pairing: Yunjae
Rating: Overall NC-17
Genre: Psychological, romance, angst, drama
Warnings: mental illness, romanticizing mental illness, self harm, mentions of abuse, prescription drug use, attempted suicide, thoughts of suicide, age gap, dub-con (non sexual), and possibly many others.
Disclaimer: i am not a psychiatrist. i haven't been to med school yet and although i have done month's worth of research on this topic, it is nowhere near perfect and i pretty much still have no idea what i'm doing. the medications i will use are real, the side effects that come with these medications are real. however, without talking to a psychiatrist who knows my fictional Jaejoong's unique situation, everything i have done in this fic may be completely wrong. please don't take what you learn from this fic as fact. i took a lot of artistic liberties with some of these things as well. i have romanticized Jaejoong's condition. Yunho violates almost every rule in the book, plays with the lines on concent in some cases, and sometimes completely crosses them (in non-sexual ways). this story is for fictional purposes only.
Summary: Love knows no boundaries; it reaches the good, the broken, the hopeless, and even the insane
Author's Note: does anyone still read this anymore? yeah? no?

{Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10a} {Chapter 10b} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12}

“Tell me why… and I’ll let you finish.”

A full-on shiver made its way through Jaejoong’s body at my words. His trembling hand sought refuge clutching at my thigh while the other tightened around my fingers. “I… can’t,” he forced out, gripping my pants tighter and visibly clenching his teeth.

I dropped my voice and leaned forward to let my throat vibrate against his skin, pitching myself at just the right level to bring out what I wanted. “You can.”

All the dirty fantasies I’d tried to suppress suddenly burst through their chains as Jaejoong let a breathless little moan slip past his lips. Countless images flashed before my eyes and lust burned deep in the pit of my stomach, fueling my desire and making me only more determined to get this over with. My body worked on its own, canting my hips up and pressing an open mouthed kiss to Jaejoong’s neck.

He loved it.

Desperate pants assaulted my shoulder as Jaejoong struggled to find words. His own desire pressed insistently against my thigh, and I knew I had him. “I… I want to,” he admitted with a shaky breath. “I like this.”

I hummed.

“U-know likes this.”

“Yes… Yunho likes this a lot,” I purred. “But you have to tell me Jaejoong: why is that different?”

My tongue dragging along the shell of Jaejoong’s ear delayed his response, drawing a shuddering moan from his lips instead. The sound spurred me on and I knew I was losing control. Losing sense. My hips lifted and ground against him in a slow, steady rhythm, pressing flush against him only to pull away and return with more force- more burn. “I don’t… I don’t like… with him… you’re not… doing that…” Jaejoong babbled between thrusts. His chest heaved with pent-up release, and I was just waiting for him to beg for it.

I no longer cared about the words that left his panting mouth or that I shouldn’t be shamelessly taking advantage of my patient in the same bed I’d slept with another woman in; all I wanted was to see him- watch his face as the pleasure became too much for the both of us and witness euphoria dance in his eyes when desire consumed him completely.

My own want flared at the mere thought and I knew the end was near. Jaejoong’s nails scraped helplessly down my thigh, desperate to find purchase anywhere that would keep him grounded to this world, but it was all in vain. My lips had returned to mouth at a birthmark just below his jawline as my hips pushed up in a particularly well-angled thrust, and he lost it.

The most beautiful sound I’d ever heard escaped his gasping lips as his body went rigid- a high pitched, trembling wail that went straight to my cock and pushed me over the edge with him. The force of it slammed our bodies against each other, every inch of skin burning for more contact as we rode out our high together. My eyes could barely hold themselves open through the overwhelming pleasure that was crashing over me, but I refused to let them shut. I needed to engrave that face in my memory forever- every curve, every line, every single detail of Jaejoong’s flushed skin that was displayed before me.

I drank it all in greedily before I let my lips cover his and swallowed the rest of his soft mewls, the solid press dissolving into slow, lingering kisses as we floated back down to Earth. Contentment thrummed through my veins as my fingers twined into Jaejoong’s soft hair, tugging ever so slightly when he dropped his head to rest on my shoulder and let our panting breaths fill the silence.

My body was sated- so much more than it had been when I was finished with Hyori- but a part of me still wanted more. I knew exactly what it was I yearned for, but for now I was content with just this; the feeling that rushed through me as I held Jaejoong in my arms and watched the edges of exhaustion nag at his tired mind was nothing short of incredible. He fell under the spell of sleep slowly, tension gradually easing out of his fingers until they lay limp in my hold.

I wanted to stay that way all night. Realistically, I still had a good two hours or so of paperwork I needed to catch up on before I could call it a night, and the fact that Jaejoong had passed out so quickly after such a… light activity concerned me a bit, but my muscles refused to move. As much as I knew I shouldn’t have, I decided to put off my work for tonight and made a deal with myself: be with Jaejoong tonight, pick up the slack tomorrow. It was such an easy decision to make at the time… I just had no idea how badly I would regret it not two hours later.

The anxiety hit me first. I’d carefully rolled Jaejoong off of me and adjusted his position, cradling him to my side as I let his steady breath fan out against my neck. After finally taking the edge off of my insane desire, I figured spending another night with him next to me would be easy. And for a while, it was. I didn’t mind the stickiness of my boxers until they were almost dry and the oxytocin had mostly cleared from my system, but then the feeling of it was all I could think about.

Did Jaejoong feel it too? Did it bother him at all? What would he think when he woke up? Should I move? What if I wake him up? Are our clothes ruined? Would he care? How long have we been like this?

The thoughts consumed me. My heart raced and I was horrified that Jaejoong could hear it hammering in my rib cage- the fluttering beat of unwarranted terror sounding like a thunderstorm in my ears. My chest was ready to explode from the apprehension… but then it shifted. Guilt seeped through the anxiety, mutating and amplifying it until a sheen of sweat coated my skin.

What had I done?

My hand trembled on Jaejoong’s scarred shoulder, conflicted between recoiling in horror and staying still to keep him from suspecting anything. Every point of contact with him burned me to the core, disgust for my actions running wild and making me sick.

I’d lost control. I swore to myself I wouldn’t do this, but I completely lost it. I failed him, failed myself, failed everything. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the innocent boy I’d corrupted, but the images that plagued me when I closed my eyes were worse; his bright smile when he walked into my office, his submissive eyes giving in to everything I wanted… He trusted me. Followed blindly until I got what I wanted. Never doubted me.

I could scarcely breathe with the weight of this horrible guilt crushing my chest, but the feelings didn’t stop. Desire slowly crept into the mixture as I stared at Jaejoong’s pale face, completely smooth as he slept. Defenseless. I could have woken him up, traced wet kisses down his neck until he blinked bleary eyes up at me and smiled. I could have pressed my mouth against his and wrapped my fingers around his wrists. His still kiss-swollen lips would part willingly without me having to say a word, his mouth giving in without hesitation. He wouldn’t be able to refuse me anything; he wouldn’t want to.

The new fantasy smothered me with unbearable lust- the guilt and anxiety drowned by the massive wave of it suddenly crashing over me. My fingers no longer burned to get away from him but to touch more. I wanted to trace every single line of Jaejoong’s gorgeous body- with my fingers, my tongue, anything- just to feel him squirm beneath me. Within minutes I was almost painfully hard from just imagining what it would be like to take him for real… and at that point, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Every ounce of shattering willpower went into pulling myself away from his limp form, all concerns about him waking up gone as I raced to the bathroom. I made quick work of finishing myself off before sliding to the floor in a miserable heap of regret and shame, body shaking and mind running at a million miles a second. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.

I lost all sense of time while sitting on this bathroom floor. Maybe I’ve been in here for hours- maybe only a few minutes. At some point I must have composed myself enough to return to my room for this stupid journal and stop shaking enough to actually write legible sentences, but I really have no idea how. I don’t know what the fuck came over me; I just know for certain that I never want to go through that kind of torture again.

All that mental anguish and rapidly shifting emotions have left me absolutely exhausted, almost to the point that I can’t see straight anymore. I need to stop. I need to go to bed. But I can’t- he’s still there.

February 28, 2003
Entry Ninety-Five

I practically had sex with Jaejoong last night. Holy fuck.

February 28, 2003
Entry Ninety-Six

I’m tired. Last night was such a mess…

I wish I could say that I don’t remember what I did, but honestly, it comes back to me with striking clarity. Jaejoong wasn’t exactly subtle in reminding me about it either.

The first thing I could think of when I put my pen down was that I needed sleep. Desperately. Good things never come from me being sleep deprived, and I really didn’t need to add to the pile of shit that was already sitting on my conscience.

Everything tipped sideways for a moment as I extracted myself from the bathroom floor and I shakily rose to my feet. I didn’t know where I was going to go, so I ended up aimlessly wandering my house until my feet brought me back to my room on their own accord. Jaejoong was still sound asleep nestled into my pillows, completely oblivious to the mental turmoil I’d suffered through all night because of him. His fingers were lightly curled around the edge of my blanket and an expression of absolute calm had settled over his features; for a moment, I couldn’t even breathe.

He stayed perfectly still as I watched him in silence, only stirring when I caved in and collapsed beside him. I put the last of my energy into perching on the very edge of my bed, as far away from Jaejoong as physically possible in such a small space. Still, his outstretched arm brought his fingertips dangerously close to my face, and I was powerless to do anything about it. With mute desire thrumming through my veins and guilt towering over my mind, I fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

When my eyes opened again Jaejoong was already sitting straight up in bed, body still and face horribly pale. His wide eyes were fixed on the sheets covering his lower body and white knuckles gripped the comforter.

“Jaejoong-ah?” I muttered as I shifted slightly to face him. His chest rose and fell with deep, shuddering breaths and his lips trembled as he formed words.

“He’s angry,” Jaejoong whispered.

Muscles protested as I raised my arms to press my fingertips to the headboard, an unconscious sigh leaving my lips. “Angry about what?” I asked absent-mindedly as I continued to stretch in my limited space.

My mind hadn’t woken up enough to fully grasp our situation quite yet. All I could think about was how beautiful Jaejoong looked with sleep-tousled hair sticking to his porcelain skin, but when he lifted an unsteady hand to point to his jeans that had somehow magically made their way to the other side of the room, it all came rushing back. The desire, the almost sex, the guilt- all of it flooded over me in a tidal wave of emotion and self-hatred.

The sudden weight of it momentarily knocked me off balance and sent a jolt of nausea through my stomach, tilting Jaejoong’s frozen image and forcing my eyes to close. “Jaejoong… I’m so-” I began, but was quickly cut off.

“He’s right, isn’t he?!” Jaejoong suddenly shouted, stiffening his arm and clutching the sheets more tightly. “He is!”

“I don’t know what you-”

“I’m not allowed! I was never allowed. It makes me ugly! Terrible! Only whores are allowed to enjoy it!” he screamed as his arms suddenly jerked away from his body, sheets still clutched tightly between delicate fingers.

My eyes snapped open. “Jaejoong what ar-”

“That’s all you’ve ever been!” Jaejoong screamed, fingers tearing at the sheets as tears gathered in his eyes. “Useless, disgusting whore! Burn in hell!” The accusations flew from his lips as strangled sobs and his entire body shook with the sheer force of them. Something within me snapped.

Without thinking, I drew Jaejoong’s rigid form into my arms, holding him securely when he began writhing and screaming obscenities at an enemy I could not see. His body contorted in any way it could to get away from me, but I wasn’t going to have it. “Look at me Jaejoong!” I shouted as his thin arms pushed against mine in vain, nails desperate to scrape at flesh he couldn’t reach. “I said look-at-me!”

His head snapped to the side at my repeated command, and his struggling weakened the slightest bit. “Look at me Jae…” I said again and again, lowering my voice more as his thrashing dwindled to nothing and his eyes finally rose to look at my face.

“You’re not useless Jaejoong,” I spoke softly as my breath ghosted over his chapped lips and fingers loosened their hold. “You are not a whore, you are not disgusting… You aren’t any of those things, do you understand me? Don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise. I don’t care what he says Jaejoong; he is wrong. Don’t ever doubt that.”

My voice shook with every word that escaped my lips, but Jaejoong stopped. His shoulders relaxed and his entire body molded into mine in a lifeless heap, sobs going quiet and eyes losing their focus. Our lips were only centimeters apart as he whispered to me: “You’re lying.”

Those two little words have haunted me all day, scratching at the edges of my brain like tiny mice with nothing better to eat than my sanity. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t stay with him. Not ten seconds after the words had hit my ears had Jaejoong’s head hit my shoulder and sleep overcame him once again.

I’m still shaking. I never stopped.

He watched me with empty, haunted eyes as I stumbled my way through making breakfast and getting ready to leave. It was like being with an entirely different person than he had been just a few hours before.

Had I pushed him too far? Is that what he really thinks of being with me- that it makes him a… disgusting whore? No. He… Jaejoong wanted what we did last night… Didn’t he? He initiated everything. He tempted me first. I tried to stop him. He was the one that moaned my name and came from my touch.

But none of that matters. I should have known better. I should have been in control. He’s my patient- practically a child- and can’t make these decisions for himself God damnit. This is my fault- it doesn’t matter how much I try to put the blame on someone else, I’m the one responsible for what happened. How could I have been so stupid? So selfish?

I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t understand how I let myself get so far down into this hole I’ve dug for the both of us; all I know is that we need to get out and I really, truly don’t know how. Sure, I can say that I’m going to be professional from now on, but how long will that actually last? A few days? A few hours? A few minutes? What will happen tonight when we start the whole process over again? I can’t control myself. I know I can’t. I’ve tried to delude myself into thinking that I could maintain this tepid balance between being a lover and a psychiatrist, and my failure to do so is only making everyone suffer.

People who should have never been involved are paying for my mistakes: my other patients, their families, Hyori… Hyori. Fuck.

She was on her feet the second she saw me walking up the sidewalk toward the glass doors, Jaejoong in tow but still eerily silent. Despite her thick makeup, I could still see the dark circles adorning her concerned eyes and immediately regretted everything I had ever put her through. Her slight bow to Jaejoong went unreturned, but I doubt she cared; her gaze was focused solely on me.

“Jaejoong-shii’s mother has already arrived,” she said a she gestured to the woman sitting in the corner of the lobby, eyes still trained the top button of my collar. The pair left without Jaejoong saying a word and Hyori took it as her cue to let everything out. “I was worried about you yesterday,” she admitted after only a few beats of silence. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I’m sorry. I was just… sleeping it off. I’m fine now,” I answered with a tight smile, edging my way toward my office as Hyori fretted over what to say next. Her pretty little mouth opened and shut around words she couldn’t bring herself to say, and before she finally made up her mind I was already opening my office door and sticking one foot through. “Is there anything I need to attend to that I missed yesterday?” I asked with my hand on the door handle.

She shook her head and that was that.

I know it was rude. I know it was insensitive. But I had bigger, much more pressing issues to deal with than someone who was putting too much meaning into a drunken romp between the sheets. I really do care for her, but… I couldn’t afford to focus on that today; there was already way too much on my mind.

Gut-churning guilt spurred me into getting a significant chunk of work done after seeing the state my sudden absence yesterday had left Henry in. Had I been paying more attention to him the past few weeks, I would have known that he’d been skimping on his medication lately and remembered that I meant to up his dose of anti-anxiety meds a little over a month ago.

But this revelation got me started: one correction led to another as I edited his case file and moved on to other patients, several of which needed their medications adjusted as well. I ran on complete autopilot as I forced myself to spew out words onto the pages, pointedly ignoring the waves of exhaustion and mental turmoil threatening to spill over the dam I’d put up during my time with Henry. It took me about three hours in total to make all of the necessary corrections (with pauses in between for sessions of course,) and once I began to feel the dull ache in my wrist from the excessive writing I remembered just how long it had been since I’d actually worked on any other case than Jaejoong’s. Granted, my handwriting was sloppy as hell from my shaking hands and I’ll most likely have to go over everything again to make sure it’s actually correct instead of the mindless babble it’s all bound to be, but it was the closest I’ve been in ages to putting real effort into this again.

Just as I was about to call the pharmacy to make the prescription adjustments, another thought flitted through my mind and made my hand freeze in midair above my phone. The little whisper taunted me with it mixture of truth and temptation, and I knew that no matter how dangerous the train of thought was, I couldn’t ignore it.

Jaejoong was still my patient. He still needed medication.

As torturous as last night may have been, yesterday was still largely successful in providing the information I need to at least start Jaejoong off on something. It was very clear to me from the beginning that I needed to put him on some type of antianxiety (although not nearly as strong as the ones for Henry,) an antipsychotic, and possibly a mild antidepressant. The extra research was more about determining what types of these meds in which combinations would be the most suitable for him to start with given the state of his condition and the history behind it.

Since- as far as his medical history and his mother have told me- he’s never been on any kind of prescription drugs before, I don’t have to worry about giving him something that would conflict with a current medication, but I need to be careful with overloading him with all of this. It’s hard enough to get psychiatric patients to stick with their medicine, and given Jaejoong’s young age, condition, and overall circumstances, it’s going to be a challenge to get him mentally prepared for using them consistently long-term and the side effects that go with it. The desired effects can take a few weeks to fully kick in, but it’s entirely possible that the side effects will start sooner and he’ll lose the motivation to stick with them until the hallucinations and other symptoms start to go away.

For this reason, I decided to start him off with a moderately low dose of Ziprazidone for the next six to eight weeks, and given the nature of the drug, I’m foregoing the antianxiety medications for now. Ziprazidone is somewhat of a “starter” antipsychotic for schizophrenic patients like Jaejoong and since it has fewer adverse side effects than some of my other options, it’s a good place to start and I can always change it if things don’t go well. Of course, regardless of what the chances for negative side effects are, I’ll still have to watch him closely for the next few months to make sure he’s progressing well and see where adjustments need to be made. Which, for any other case, would be just fine. For Jaejoong’s… not so much.

Now that I desperately need to get my focus away from Jaejoong, it’s crucial to his health and general wellbeing that I pay special attention to him. It’ll be a completely different type of attention, but given my current track record, I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to make the distinction.

His session is still a few hours away, but I’m dreading the hours to come. I don’t know how I’m going to react- I don’t know how he’s going to react- and I still have two more nights scheduled with him. But then again… after the episode we had this morning, I’m not even sure he’ll even come tonight at all.

A/N: so it's been a while... nothing like starting off a chapter with almost-porn to celebrate a hiatus break, no? ;] not leaving spots (aside from two) because i really don't know who even reads this anymore/ who is still on livejournal anymore. let me know if you want one in the future :3