#felt panicked to the point that he accidentally made a comeback to god. how could he not? he was a kid. they both were. and he felt regret. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tk-writer · 4 years

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The Pat Down [Saiouma]

hi! this was directly inspired by tickly-tuft's fic gentle persuasion, which is still a fave of mine to this day! i thought the setting was perfect and i also have no more original ideas zsjkfhjks so i put a lil spin on it (i hope thats ok tt!!) please enjoy yet another phantom thief au fic, this time from ouma’s perspective!

~~~~~

Ouma Kokichi never got caught. And if he did, he always found a way out.

Those words repeated in his mind like a mantra as he sat with wrists cuffed to the table and ankles fettered to the legs of the chair. They echoed again and again, but as time continued to pass it was getting more and more difficult to believe his own lies. The agency wasn't playing around this time. It appeared that they had invested in some new toys, some of which were constructed with seemingly impossible locks that even a professional like Ouma couldn't get out of. After tinkering with them for awhile, he got bored and decided to just wait for the detective instead.

The sound of clinking metal clinking rang throughout the empty interrogation room whenever he made the slightest movement. He had been sitting there alone for what felt like hours, so he was starting to get a bit restless. Being a prisoner was boring without a guard there to toy with.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait much longer. The door finally opened, revealing a serious looking Saihara who seemed less than pleased to see his arch rival in his chambers once again.

Ouma flashed him a flirtatious grin and readied his arsenal of comebacks. The best part was about to begin.

"Afternoon, Saihara-chan," he sang in a honey sweet voice. "Or is it evening now? I've been waiting here for soooooooo long. I thought my beloved detective had forgotten about me. Huhuuu..." he conjured up a few tears while giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster.

"It's been twenty minutes," Saihara stated, unfazed by Ouma's theatrics. "I had to finish up some paperwork. You really made a mess of things today."

Ouma shrugged. "Wasn't my fault your officers can't tap dance."

"We had to call in an expert from China to deactivate the lasers, Ouma."

"At least it wasn't boring, right?"

Saihara sighed and rubbed his eyes. He seemed more ragged than usual. Ouma would’ve felt guilty if he wasn’t so damn stubborn about pulling all-nighters to solve his cases.

"Can you please make this easy for me today? I'm tired. I was up all last night doing research."

Ouma recoiled, trying to mime the action of clutching his heart without the use of his hands.

"Is my beloved detective involved with another thief? I'm heartbroken, Shumai! How could you do such a thing?!"

He received a deep sigh in response.

"Alright, I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

In an unexpected move, Saihara walked towards the bound thief and stood behind him. Ouma tried turning his head to see where he was going (and what he was doing), but Saihara was standing at a weird angle out of his line of vision.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out with a breathy, panicked gasp.

The feeling of two pairs of hands patting both of his sides, moving up and down from underarms to calves, made him jump at each point of contact. Ouma gritted his teeth, choking back high pitched vocalizations in an effort to speak.

"Nnnngh! Huh, huh, hey!! What are you doing?!"

"Making sure you don't have any dirty tricks up your sleeves before I interrogate you."

"Mmmh!! I don't!!"

The hands continued to explore, gently tapping against his chest while Ouma squirmed as much as he could while trapped in place. Fortunately, Saihara seemed ignorant to his suffering for now, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in much longer...

"Come ooooon! They took all my gear already! You don't have to-aaaha!" He muffled the last cry as much as he could, but the little accidental flutters against his thighs and hips were really beginning to get to him. He wanted to scream when Saihara tried pulling off one of his shoes and brushed against the top of his foot. One finger snuck into the side, seeking out gadgets and doohickeys that Ouma usually had on help to aid his escapes. His touch was soft and cautious, and it tickled bad.

"Stop squirming so much, you're making this harder."

"Then stop touching me-eeehe!"

That was it; the breaking point. Saihara froze, taken aback by the sudden uncharacteristic squeal Ouma had just let out. The thief cursed himself internally, scrambling to think of a way to move past the situation.

"Saihara-chan is such a perv... you know, if you wanted to do a cavity search that badly, you could've just asked..."

He thought the innuendo would be enough to throw him off, since it usually was, but the detective had discovered something new and nothing could stop him from investigating further. Ouma couldn't see him, and for the next several seconds he found himself on edge. Inhaling sharply, forgetting to exhale... until he gasped again, quite loudly this time, when Saihara gently poked his sides.

"You're ticklish," he whispered to him. Ouma could hear the smirk in his voice. Blunt denial was all he could think of in defense.

"Hmm? Don't know what you're talking about, Mister Detective, but maybe instead of focusing on me you should be going after my associ-AAAAH!"

The screech was caused by an abrupt pinch on his lower side. He would've crunched himself sideways if his wrists hadn't been shackled in front of him.

"Don't change the subject," Saihara replied, moving his hands a bit faster. Ouma arched his back and wiggled from side to side as ten fingers curled into his ribcage. He broke out into maniacal laughter, unable to restrain his childlike giggles any longer. "How did I not know about this before?"

"Naahahhahaooo! Get AHAHAHAHAFF!!"

"Where's the Monet painting you stole today?"

"Whahaat!?!"

"I know you still have it. It wasn't under the floorboards like last time. What did you do with it?"

"Mmmgnnhhh-GAHAHAHAHAHA! Stahahahhap Shuichi!!!"

It wasn't often that he used his first name, but Ouma's mind was in shambles and that was the first thing he clung to. He was trying to focus on fighting against the tickly sensations, which meant less effort towards making coherent speech. What was making it harder was listening to Saihara quietly chuckling next to his ear, as if he were having the time of his life torturing Ouma.

"Well?" he asked, finally pausing after god knows how long.

"I told you... I don't have it... NONOONOOOOO! Not there not thehehehere!!"

The thief was borderline screaming. Electric jolts slammed into his brain as Saihara tickled the hollows of his arms. It was the most intense sensation yet. He would’ve broken both arms if it meant getting away.

"You always tell me you're a liar, how do i know if you're telling the truth now?"

"I dropped it on my way out!! Pleaeheeheese STOOOP!!"

"Hmm... alright, I guess I believe you."

Ouma felt his hands leave his body at last, but tension kept him rigid long after. He swallowed air, trying to regain his senses after the tickle attack he'd just experienced.

"Jeez... I didn't know you were such a sadist..."

Saihara rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, the realization of what he'd done finally dawning on him.

"I'm sorry... I was a little mean, wasn't I?"

Ouma faked a frown, furrowing his brows in an ersatz display of anger.

"Utterly cruel. I'm scarred for life."

Saihara knelt beside him. His hazel eyes were warm and soft, a look only reserved for Ouma. The thief would never admit it, but that was what made him fall for the detective in the first place.

"How can I make it up to you?"

"Give me your undying, eternal devotion. And also ten million dollars."

"How about I do this and call it even?"

Before Ouma could respond, he felt Saihara lift his chin gently with two fingers, forcing him to meet his gaze. He watched him lean closer, eyelids fluttering shut, and followed suit. He felt softness against his lips and melted. There wasn't much else on his mind besides the feeling of Saihara so near and the sweetness of the kiss they shared.

All too quickly it was over. The detective pulled away and gave him a small smile before making his way towards the door. Ouma could still feel heat radiating from his face. For once, he was speechless.

"See you at the next heist," were his parting words. "Make sure to use the air vents this time, please."

He closed the door behind him and was gone. Ouma sat there for a second, still processing what just happened, before slowly slipping both wrists from loosened cuffs. His ankles followed suit, but when he stood, his stance wobbled and he had to brace himself against the wall. His fingers grazed his lips, still in disbelief.

“Maybe I should get caught more often...”

#tickling #tickle fic #saiouma #oumasai #phantom thief au #hi! i wrote this at 4 am! i hope it's coherent!#lee!kokichi #lee!ouma #ler!shuichi #ler!saihara

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

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Wrong End of a Gun (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Three: Held at Gunpoint

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Daisy Tonner, Tim Stoker

CW: Blood/Injury

Summary:

Jon accidentally compels Daisy. She makes him regret it.

“Is this how you normally conduct your investigations?”

It was meant to be snarky, rhetorical. Jon had finally mustered the energy for a comeback, feeling more himself than he had in ages. He and Daisy were on the trail of the Stranger, almost ready to investigate Breekon & Hope and track down Sarah Baldwin. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized his mistake. There was a static in his ears and it poured into his voice, ripping her answer out of her throat like a hunter with prey.

“I’m more apt to chase ‘em down, use my gun and watch them bleed. They don’t ask questions at the station, not anymore.” Her eyes narrowed- she knew what Jon had done. Before he could move she had him by the throat, throwing him to the ground with a growl as his still-healing neck stung in pain. Jon let out a choked cry, flailing backwards until he hit the wall and attempted to make himself as small as possible.

“I can show you, if you like,” the whisper was dangerous and low in his ear. He shook, throwing an arm over his face with a pathetic whimper. Basira wasn’t here to save him this time. Could anyone hear them? Martin? Tim? Melanie? Would anyone come if he called? Please, please help-

The sound of a gun being cocked made the terror freeze in his chest. She wouldn’t, she couldn't, not while Elias still had Basira trapped in the Archives. But Jon could hear her steps and feel the anger radiating off her every move. She chuckled humorlessly and the sound was familiar. Everyone seemed to find him so funny these days. One day they’ll drag his corpse into the Archives and everyone will laugh and laugh. Stupid Jon, couldn’t keep well enough alone!

“I’d make it slow, you know,” she was back in his face, pulling his arm away and grabbing his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. They held a feral glow as she tenderly, mockingly tucked a stray hair behind his ear and he trembled in place. “Shoot you in the arm, maybe the side first. Just a graze, enough to bleed but not enough to take you down.” Her eyes never left his as she ghosted a hand down his ribs and his shivering intensified.

“I’d let you run for a bit, leaving your scent all over the woods,” she tutted at this, shaking her head in faux-disappointment. A hand across his neck comes away with blood and she’s happy, so happy to see it. Jon can feel his vision clouding. Was he crying or losing consciousness? Hopefully the latter. “You’re such an easy target. It’s sad to see. Elias should have let me finish the job, but here we are.” This seemed to be his only saving grace these days- Elias needs him. But for what purpose, what end? To be a scapegoat and a punching bag? There’s so much he doesn’t know and so much that Elias won’t tell him. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

“Next, the leg!” Daisy kicked at his ankle and he made a piteous sound, trying in vain to curl further into himself. “Now you’re crawling on all fours. So pathetic.” And suddenly Jon was no longer in his office. He heard the sounds of the forest, he felt the rough ground digging to his back as she flipped him over easily and put the gun to his head; his eyes were wide, drinking it all in.

The cold muzzle of the gun was at his forehead and even as he shook, even as he closed his eyes in fear he felt a strange peace. A comfort. It’ll be over soon, it whispered. Just close your eyes and count to three and-

“Bang!” Daisy’s voice went off like the sound of a bullet and he yelped, expecting pain but feeling none. She laughed, high and hysterical and mean as he fought to take in heaving breaths. “Look at your face! God, it’s so easy to-”

“What the hell, Daisy?” Jon cracked open one eye to see Martin at the door, Tim close behind him. Martin looked furious and Jon remembered a time when he stood in that doorway, flinging worms at Jon’s feet and demanding he listen. “What are you-Jon!” At once Martin was at his feet, kneeling down and putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder as Jon flinched. The warmth of his hand burned through his shirt. People didn’t touch him with good intentions anymore. Hands were supposed to hurt.

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently, but his voice was so soft. Jon could cry from the tenderness of it. “Did she do anything to you?”

“Did I do anything to him? That little monster?” Daisy replied, disbelief evident in her tone. Jon cowered further, leaning into Martin’s touch. “I should think it’s the opposite- always asking his questions and ripping out the answers-”

“Stop waving that gun around!” Tim yelled, ducking out of the doorway. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

She barked out a laugh but holstered the gun. “Not if he doesn’t first.” She moved towards the door, grinning with too many teeth as Tim dodged out of her way. “Let me know if you’d like me to finish the job, Stoker,” she jeered, jerking her head in Jon’s direction. If Tim replied he didn’t hear it. At this point, Jon wasn’t sure if it would be yes or no.

“It’s fine, she’s gone now,” Martin said soothingly, wrapping his arms around Jon now that the imminent danger had passed. Tim lingered in the doorway, fixing Jon with a hard glare he couldn’t look away from. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” He desperately wanted to believe that, but in less than a day he would be back out with Daisy and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop her, not if she wanted him dead. Sure he had power, but what could he do with it? Alienate his allies, irritate his foes, and not much else. Worthless.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, grabbing at Martin’s sweater and looking into those kind, worried eyes. “I didn’t mean to ask a question. You believe me, right?” Static. Martin opened his mouth and answered right away.

“Of course.” He clammed up immediately afterwards, his face hardening. And Jon- Jon had done it again. He looked at Martin in horror, an apology on his lips before Tim began to speak.

“What the fuck, Jon,” Tim was angry, Tim was always so angry but he deserved it, didn’t he? “Now you’re doing it to us? C’mon Martin, leave him be. Just another fucking monster to deal with-”

“No, Tim,” Martin replied firmly, anger settling into every line of his face. Jon ducked his head; he couldn’t bear to look at him and see the disappointment he was sure was directed at him. “Get out.”

“What-?”

“Get out. You’re scaring him.” Martin sounded stern and commanding. Was Jon scared of Tim? He was clinging to Martin’s sweater pretty tightly, shaking in his arms. But that’s not right, Tim should be scared of me.

Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes in the doorway. “Fine. Have it your way. You’ll regret it.”

Jon reluctantly pulled away, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet Martin’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Martin replied warily, helping him to his feet with a hand around his waist as he maneuvered him gently onto the couch. “Well, it’s not fine, but I know you can’t help it.” Martin’s right. He can’t help it. All of this power and he’s still utterly helpless. Martin’s face suddenly grew panicked and a hand hovered at Jon’s neck.

“Your wound reopened again,” Martin cursed and Jon was made aware of the blood dripping lazily down his neck. “Let me grab-”

“N-No,” Jon yelped, almost unconsciously grabbing back at his sweater. The thought of Martin walking out filled him with sudden anxiety. He’s the only one who can stand you right now. Keep him happy, keep him calm. “It’ll stop eventually.” He tried for a reassuring tone, but clearly missed the mark as Martin let out a heaving, irritated sigh. Jon dropped his hand immediately in response.

“No, it’s not-” Martin struggled to find the words, his brow furrowed in annoyance and frustration. “You keep putting yourself in danger. Letting Elias put you in danger. Look at you!” He gestured angrily at Jon’s throat. “Your throat is literally torn open and I can’t- I can’t do anything!” He dropped down to the couch looking drained and haggard. Because of Jon. He wanted to comfort him, tell him not to worry and that it would be alright in the end. But he couldn’t, so he settled for honesty.

“It’s fine if it’s me,” he tried to soothe Martin like the man had done with him before, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It has to be me. I can take it.” A wobble was creeping into his voice even as he tried to tamp it down. “You heard them. I’m- I’m a monster-” Martin cut him off, grabbing the hand on his shoulder between his own and squeezing, his eyes bright and furious.

“No you’re not. Not to me.” The conviction in Martin’s words was almost convincing. “Promise me, Jon. Promise me you’ll try to stay safe. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. Please.” Jon couldn’t deny him a thing in that moment. So he promised.

Not a week later when Breekon and Hope have him by the arms and shove him into that van, he remembers his promise. He wants to tell Martin he tried and not to worry, he’ll be back soon. But he needs a little help.

If no one else, Martin will help.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000466

#whumptober2020 #fic #no.3 #held at gunpoint #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #tim stoker #jonmartin #jon/martin #my writing

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bambyeol · 6 years

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odds and chances

pairing/s: hwang minhyun x you genre : fluff, college characters: hwang minhyun, kim jaewhan, ha sungwoon, park woojin

prompt: Minhyun finds drafted love letters from a secret admirer while cleaning the lecture hall….

masterlist for other fanfics

note: Here’s my promise of finally expanding the pairings. Also, this would be the first time I’m writing a story using the pronoun ‘you’, and it felt weird while writing this so I don’t know if this would bring justice to your expectations, but I hope so! (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

song inspiration: Heart Shaker by Twice ( 트와이스)

Hwang Minhyun works part-time as a janitor in the local college, and his routine consists of picking up forgotten papers and throwing them in the bin until he picks up a torn piece of paper inside one of the desks located in the lecture hall for Visual Arts students.

Usually, he will follow his routine. Usually.

But today, his curiosity gets the better of him when “Hwang” peeks out from the corner of the paper. He opens and reads it, observing the lack of first name in the letter. He folds the paper neatly, light pink brushing his cheeks.

He just read a love letter.

But being the oblivious man, he disregards the possibility that it is meant for him. Instead, he lists out all the students in the department with the last name Hwang. There’s 3 or so, as far as he could remember…

He retrieves the pen from his pocket and begins editing the love letter, taking the time to sit on the chair and carefully ponder on the works of grammar and diction. To his defense, the letter contains grammatical errors, misspellings and improper tenses, but that’s because you are a transfer student who has only studied Korean for about a year.

Also, you have been crushing hard on the glorious Hwang Minhyun, the eye candy janitor of your department for about 3 months now, and you don’t trust yourself to properly convey your emotions without getting tongue-tied and driving the whole conversation to awkwardness probably because you might accidentally curse Minhyun with your pronunciation.

But Minhyun’s now reading your carefully drafted, dictionary-guided, google-translated love letter and he’s sighing for the nth time because you can’t seem to know when to use ‘you’re’ and ‘your’ and you have questionable metaphors and symbolism to profess your love.

You smell like my freshly-laundered socks, and you give me happiness like that of my deceased grandmother’s smile. I didn’t notice you at first, but you my affection grew so fast like bacteria…..

The list goes on....

He returns the letter back to the desk fully satisfied with his corrections, returning to his work.

The next day, you find yourself rushing to your chair to check if that is where you had left your love letter because damn you have been painfully denying about your little crush to your friends and classmates who constantly teased you because they just knew by the way you always recognize Minhyun’s figure, and how your eyes follows his body, or how you always find the courage to greet him when he passes by.

When you see the letter still intact inside your desk, you feel relieved, but unfolding it, you see neat marks amidst your messy handwriting. Below all the revisions is a message from your mysterious proofreader.

“Good luck on your confession! Tell me Leave a letter if it goes well ^O^”

You smile despite the feeling of nervousness sitting on your stomach. Someone read your letter. And you even wrote Hwang. God, you’re such an idiot, and so for the whole period, you sit in your chair dazed and confused, doodling on another scratch paper as the teacher droned about Art History.

Once again, you forget your paper under the desk.. Minhyun rounds the classroom, checking every table religiously and notices another paper underneath your table He sees the doodle and is amazed by your attention to detail.

“Nice drawing. But listen to the teacher, okay?” he writes and returns the paper, a little pleased with his newly found past time.

You notice the neat handwriting again, and an unknown force compelled you to reply. There isn’t a loss that you could think of. After all, your mysterious proofreader didn’t spread your little (open) secret. Apart from that, establishing communication would practice your language. Drawing is easy, but writing? Very challenging.

So from then on, you became the pen pal of Minhyun while being unaware of his identity, but Minhyun recognizes you. He would look forward to how your day has been, and you would look forward to that neat handwriting, savage comebacks and how he cannot resist to just correct your writing.

“Please erase the bacteria reference in your love letter. Do your crush a favor”

“Ok how about this? I really, really, really like how your eyes reflect the morning sun, how your skin is as white as snow and as smooth as pancakes,”

“Pancakes? Seriously.. You’re an Arts major, visualize.”

“What if I just copy paste some kpop lyrics in my letter? You think he would notice?.”

“If your song is referencing love with bacteria, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t recognize that,”

It was weird how you didn’t bother try to ask for his name. You liked the little veil of privacy that separated both of you, but as for Minhyun… he discovered your identity with a single glance on the lecture hall’s glass door. His eyes darted to your desk where he found you busily writing the letter for that day.

And maybe from that day, he would excuse himself from his coworkers when you had class just to check out your classroom. One day, Jaewhan catches Minhyun.

“Oi, Hyung, you left me in the left wing.. Oh, oh, who are you looking at?” calculating where Minhyun must have been staring. Jaewhan smirks and slaps Minhyun’s back teasing him about it for the rest of the day and spreading the story to the other personnel.

Minhyun’s friends being the best wing men arranged the cleaning rotation so that Minhyun is assigned in the hallway of your lecture hall every time you had classes, and he would stand oddly near the door and pretend to clean the already polished floor while sneaking glances to check if you had walked out of the classroom.

And your eyes would always recognize Minhyun’s figure and you would send a little hello. He’d smile with a nod feeling accomplished for the day, and proceed to clean the lecture hall and read your letter..

“Wait…. She doesn’t know you?” Jaewhan spits his milk and Minhyun glares.

“He doesn’t have a dating experience remember?” Sungwoon laughs while biting his bread and Minhyun almost chokes him while Sungwoon would flail his short arms.

“But hyung, if you don’t confess about your identity then wouldn’t your relationship be the same as that one girl whom you text-dated?” Daewhi reminds with concern fueling Jaewhan and Sungwoon in teasing Minhyun’s awkwardness.

He groans and buries his head in his hands unsure of how to approach you without becoming a mess of ‘uhms’ and ‘oh’s’ .

Meanwhile, you tell your friends about the curious case of your pen pal.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was Hwang Minhyun who’s your pen pal though?”

“That’s the most unlikely scenario, Riseul. Stop it.” But you considered the possibility, and damn it would explain a lot why there wasn’t a rumour that spread around your department.

Holy shit.

You cry in embarrassment, burying your face into your hands while mentally cursing your writing prowess that matched that of a five year old. You decide to unmask the identity of your proofreader and pen pal by asking to meet him by the university café. You even stated your attire, your name and your phone number (risky but Minhyun having your phone number? Take me)

But you didn’t know that Minhyun was absent that day, and it was Park Woojin who took his shift, so without batting an eye, he picks up your carefully folded, scented note and throws it away making you wait in vain in the university café.

You stopped writing that day feeling very embarrassed and pitiful. Minhyun didn’t understand why you wore a sad face when he passes by the lecture hall or why you stopped leaving notes. “Maybe she’s not interested anymore,” Jaewhan comments as Minhyun called for an emergency gathering about you because he honestly didn’t understand and didn’t have enough experience to understand the wiring of women.

“Or maybe she got creeped out by a dude who drops notes,” Sungwoon supports. Minhyun felt his heart sinking further. Woojin enters the room twirling his face towel “Hey hyung, can you take my shift on Saturday?”

“Shh Woojin we’re discussing what might be the turning point in Minhyun’s single life,”

Woojin raises his eyebrow and asks curiously, “Why? What happened with hyung?”

“This romanticist thought being pen pals were cool, and now she’s not dropping notes anymore in the lecture hall and he’s panicking thinking about what he did wrong. 1 000 won for the possibility that she’s not interested anymore.”

“Notes in the lecture hall? You mean that hall for the visual arts students?” Woojin raises his arm remembering about the carefully tucked scented letter. “I might have thrown that away…..” he laughs nervously and Minhyun approaches menacingly. “Park Woojin you little…..”

You held the love letter in your hands feeling sweat seeping in the letter. You didn’t understand why you stayed up all night to write that letter, but one thing is certain, your little pen pal distracted you about your plan to confess.

But for all the days that you see Minhyun in the hallway and he greeted you back with a smile, you cannot stop your heart from wanting to jump out of your ribcage, and always almost slip into confessing.

So for today, you decided to get everything over with. You’ve checked the contents of the letter for the 100th time and made sure they were correct. As you entered your classroom, you see a note under your table. You pick it up and open it.

“I have something I want to say to you, so can we meet up? University café at 6 pm. black cap, denim pants and green sling bag” and you write an ‘okay’ before mentally preparing yourself again about your confession. .

After class, you immediately proceed in finding Minhyun around the department, but you cannot find him. You see his friends and even built the courage to ask them but they turn to one another and tell you that he might be covering some other shifts in the other buildings.

So you run around the university asking and finding him, and it was nearing 6 p.m. and you were about to give up until you see Kim Jaewhan cleaning the windows.

“Uhm Jaewhan-ssi?” you greet him as he whistled some tune. He turns around and looks at you, recognition marked in his eyes. “Do you know where Minhyun-ssi might be?”

“Oh! Oh. Of course. Of course,” he answers excitedly. “I think he was about to go to the café to eat. Why not check him out there?” and you nod with understanding before saying your thanks and heading to the cafeteria which was the other side of the university.

Upon arriving to the café, you immediately searched for Minhyun and found him in the corner table looking out on the glass pane. “Minhyun-ssi!” you shouted, probably because of the nerves that now kicked in. He turns and looks at you before smiling and waving.

And shit.

He’s wearing a black cap and green sling bag.

Your eyes widen, and you realize with the ease of his steps and the smile on his face that he was expecting you.

And he read your letter.

Which was supposed to be the most unlikely scenario.

You wanted to run away and change your name and go live in another country.

But your feet remained glued on the floor until he arrived, and you let him drag you to the table still processing everything that is happening.

“No way,” you whispered and Minhyun hears it. “You read my letter?!” you whispered with reddened cheeks and panic on your face. Minhyun nods shyly before mumbling an apology.

“That’s not fair!” you complain, and Minhyun didn’t understand why. “That letter sucked big time and oh my god you read that? I want to go away now,” you squished your face to release the embarrassment that kept plaguing your body.

Minhyun holds your hand probably from sheer nervousness and desperation, “Please don’t go,” and you shut up .. Minhyun didn’t know that his charms were super effective. “I wanted to say something to you,”

You mentally prepared yourself for the incoming rejection because it was so obvious. Why did you even write his name there? But you still wanted to have a chance of confessing your feelings, and handing out the revised copy of your letter to redeem your image, but everything was turning into a mess inside your head, so you forgot to tell Minhyun that you wanted to speak first, so both of you spoke at the same time.

“Please accept my love letter!” you bowed your head lowly hitting the coffee table making a loud thud. “I like you.” Minhyun confesses but his calmness is immediately replaced with shock and worry upon seeing your head against the table.

You lifted your head, clearly hearing Minhyun’s words. Both your eyes were wide with shock, and you immediately forget the pain on your forehead.

“Wait, you mean that letter was for me? And I’m sorry but are you okay?” Minhyun asks finally connecting everything. “It has a Hwang on it for God’s sake!” you replied with a shriek while rubbing your reddened forehead.

“But I mean, there are many Hwangs in this university!” Minhyun argues back before he leans into his chair with relief and you breaking into a laughter from the happiness and embarrassment. “Seriously?” he asks again, leaning forward and resting his face on his hand.

“Seriously…” You replied with confidence, giddy from the happiness.

“So…. face as smooth as pancake huh?” he smirks.

“Hwang Minhyun!”

Fin.

note: Thank you for reading ‘odds and chances’ (づ￣ ³￣)づ I hope it made you happy (≧▽≦)/. This is different from my usual writing. One, I really really tried my best to shorten it to fit it into a single post.Two, this is the first time in my life that I wrote using ‘you’ , and I really need to adjust myself while writing.

hope you continue supporting me ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc) Feel free to leave your feedback or message me (yes let’s all be friends (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) )

masterlist for other fanfics

#wanna one #wannable #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one fanfic #Hwang Minhyun imagines #Hwang Minhyun scenarios #Park Woojin #Kim Jaewhan #ha sungwoon #wanna one fluff #college au #odds and chances

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mongniel · 7 years

Text

one way street

member: kang daniel genre: angst summary: he already put out his feelings for you, but you just keep what you felt for him strictly unspoken. a/n: this isn’t requested i just... felt like it.

you can tell how happy daniel was when he was around you.

he’d have a smug look on his face and his eyes had a habit of searching for your face every few seconds when you were in viewing distance.

daniel wasn’t ever trying to hide it anyway. he always knew he wanted you.

the two of you guys were from rival universities and met during the annual competitions that was held at his school that year.

daniel was on their school’s soccer team and you were on the school’s basketball team.

since basketball and soccer games were at different times, you went down to the soccer game to watch and support your friends on the soccer team, kang dongho and kim jonghyun.

the funny thing was you accidentally sat where your rival school was seated and was too lazy to walk all around just to get to the other side.

you hardly cheered because you weren’t trying to get killed by your rival school’s students whenever your school made a goal, but you were also the only one sitting down whenever their school made a goal in.

daniel’s school ended up losing and you rushed your little self to the field to celebrate with your friends.

“yah! kang dongho!! kim jonghyun!!” you yelled from across the field and started running towards them.

instead, you grabbed the attention of another boy with the last name kang. daniel turned around immediately when hearing you screaming his last name.

his eyes followed you and your grinning face as you sprinted off to get to your friends. he honestly doesn’t know why, but there was something so attractive about you.

you didn’t even do much. you were just excited and happy for your friends and he thought how you ran over to them was even cuter? he just couldn’t explain what it was about you.

he didn’t even get a good look at your face either? he just felt something.

his friends tried talking to him, but his focus was shifted to where you were. he waited until your friends were gone so he could approach you too.

“daniel, you coming?” he heard his friend ask while trying to drag him to the locker room.

“you go in first. i saw someone i wanted to say hi to.”

it was like perfect timing too because once his team left, your friends went off with their team as well.

daniel took this chance to rush over to you to introduce himself but you were kind of late and needed to get to your basketball game that was starting in an hour.

“hey,” daniel said as soon as he reached out to you.

he had his heart fluttering smile on and his sparkling eyes only on you.

you weren’t even sure if he was talking to you at first despite him looking right at you and stopping his traces right in front of you to talk to, well, you.

“uh, hi?”

“sorry. this is kind of random, but i noticed you running across the field. i just––i don’t know? felt this pull to introduce myself to you?”

you chuckled. i mean, who says things like that?

“okay,” you waited for him to continue, but you had an interested tone in your voice so you didn’t deject him.

daniel’s smile seriously wouldn’t wipe away.

“okay, so, i’m daniel.”

“so, that’s it?”

poor boy was so flustered that he didn’t know what else to say, but it really didn’t matter because you checked your watch once more. bitch, you better run to your pre-game practice.

“i––have a game coming up. i really have to go, but it was nice talking to you, daniel,” you said quickly before you ran out of the stadium.

can you imagine how much regret this boy had for not saying much to you?

he stood still for a few moments, watching your back as you disappeared through the stadium doors to leave. he followed you out a little too late. you were already gone by the time he made it out the door.

this boy is persistent though. he isn’t easily whipped over anyone, but you had his heart electrifying. daniel didn’t even take a quick shower. he searched on his phone while running around to see what other games that were coming up soon since you said you had a game.

that boy was gonna find you.

during the middle of your game, the doors opened and he rushed through them. his eyes were already attached to your figure as you dribble the ball to the other side of the court.

for the second time, he felt like he fell in like (?) at first sight.

daniel waited for your game to end before he went up to you. someone from his school thought he was here to cheer someone else on his own school team. nope, he’s fake and out here chasing after a cutie he saw at his own game.

“hey!” daniel called you out, grabbing your wrist to make sure you weren’t going anywhere to time.

“oh, it’s you again.” you smiled and daniel was so effected by it.

suddenly, he forgot what language he was talking in.

“uh, um, ah, yeah?”

that’s pretty much how you met. he tried getting your number, but you’re smart and weren’t trying to give your number to a stranger.

daniel’s lame ass comeback: “so, if we run into each other another time, are we strangers anymore?”

“we’ll see.”

that we’ll see turned into you giving him your number because daniel legit showed up to your school everyday after your basketball practices and games until you did.

he was so lucky he was cute.

you guys ended up getting along pretty well and sometimes he’d stay back with you and help you clean the gym.

daniel ended up trying to throw some hoops himself, only failing.

“you suck at basketball.”

“maybe if i had a really cute teacher, i’d be better at it.” eyebrow wiggles at you

“yeah, maybe you should go find one.”

“ehhh, i meant you!”

you knew he liked you. it was evident since day one of meeting him. he never really told you out loud, but he flirted a lot throughout the next few months you knew him.

it wasn’t like you didn’t like it either. you used sarcasm as your way of jokingly rejecting him while sort of flirting back with him.

basically, you’d tell him to shut up and roll your eyes but still have an growing smile on your face.

he always takes the rejections because he likes seeing you smile like that. it’s oddly worth it?

but after a while and a lot of months of thinking, daniel really wanted something more with you.

he was going to confess! or rather talk to you about it. he didn’t really want to think too much about it though. he didn’t want to do anything crazy because you clearly wasn’t the type to be into those big events.

he wanted it to be between the two of you. small, simple, and meaningful.

so you were leaving through the front gate of your school and daniel was already there waiting.

you didn’t even notice him. you had headphones in and walked right by him. he was laughing to himself but he quickly followed behind you for a little while with a cute grin on his face. he’s admiring how cute you are from behind.

daniel then swung his arm around your shoulders and looked down at you in his arm.

he startled you and you were going to push him away, but instead you just pull your headphones off and punched his chest.

“one day, i’m going to kick you where it really hurts and you can’t even blame me for doing so. i swear i’m going to get a heart attack one day with you around.”

“because i’m so shockingly handsome?”

“don’t make me throw up.”

god, you don’t even know how nervous daniel is, but what you guys were doing right now, his arm around you and you tolerating him even with all the stupid pick up lines that you (let’s be real) secretly love... and the teasing, he wanted that forever with you.

daniel takes a few deep breaths before he looks down at you again and plain out states, “hey, so, i like you... i’m pretty sure you know that already.”

“...”

yeah, you did, but it was weird hearing him say it out loud... for the first time. you weren’t sure what you were feeling.

“so, are we just going to ignore that we like each other or...”

you can feel yourself panicking. not only did he display his own feelings, but self proclaimed that you had feelings for him as well. not like you didn’t, but you have yet to admit it to yourself.

“daniel...” your voice was soft and small and you moved away from his arm.

his face fell. you just pulled yourself away and said his name like you were going to break his heart. god, he knew he was getting rejected at this point. and for real this time, not your playful punches and eye rolls... like a potential goodbye.

“what? did you not like me?” you can hear the sadness in his voice.

but hearing him doubt your feelings for him... your heart was banging against your chest, ready to defend yourself and tell him that you did like him.

unfortunately, you listened to your head more than your heart.

“can we not talk about this?”

“it’s really simple. do you or do you not like me? just tell me. if you don’t, i’ll leave you alone.”

you didn’t want him to leave you alone though...

“i... really don’t know. why are you suddenly getting impatient with me?”

“maybe because i’ve liked you for the last few months and i don’t know if you’re just leading me on or you actually like me. i know you’re not oblivious and i wasn’t trying to hide it either. i like you.”

you frowned. leading him on? you didn’t want to hear this anymore.

“i’m going home. i’ll talk to you later.”

waves of regret hit both of you as you went off to catch your bus, leaving daniel who just wished he never said anything at all to begin with behind.

#kang daniel scenarios #kang daniel imagines #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kang daniel

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