#i may turn this stupid drabble into a comic
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The Truth to Light: Chapter 2
(oh my goddd this was supposed to be a drabble. why am i writing a three part fic? lexx, stop it, bad lexx)
Side Hoes Week day 2: Wes Weston, Revenge
Characters: Wes, Tucker
WC: 1494
[chapter one]
[ao3]
****
“What are you gonna do if he loses?”
Tucker turned around, trying to not let the annoyance show through. One of these days he’d be able to walk by Wes Weston without hearing a comment, but today wasn’t one of those days. Though interestingly, Weston was far less…gloat-y than Tucker thought he would be.
Maybe it was the video. Maybe finally seeing all the horrors on screen was enough to humble him. Maybe the stupid redhead was finally realizing how recklessly he had been acting, trying to expose Danny for the past two years.
But instead of shutting the hell up, Weston had now taken to lurking around and trying to have “secret” conversations with Sam and Tucker. As if he had been in on their trio the whole time.
Hah. As if.
Weston leaned against the brick wall and bit into the apple in his hand. His green eyes were steeled on Tucker, and the determination on his face was reminiscent of a cheesy spy movie. The situation itself was so stereotypical, Tucker would have found it comical a few months ago. But then again, it was hard to find anything humorous lately.
“So?” Weston said through a mouthful of apple. He swallowed, then continued, “You gonna go after the Ghost Investigation Ward?”
Tucker had to refrain from letting out his hundredth exasperated sigh that month from talking to Weston. “And how exactly would I do that?”
Weston, it seemed, had no reservations about letting out a huff himself. He pushed off the brick wall, tossing the bitten apple in his hand. “Foley, I’m not a fucking idiot. I know what your little side hobby is.”
“You honestly don’t know anything about me.”
“Oh, and so I bet that mechanical ghost just happened to hack his own system for a year? And all Technus’ world domination attempts just happened to get shut down by themselves?”
“I’ve heard Phantom was pretty good at his job. Maybe he got a lucky shot.”
Weston rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Because Fenton is known for being such a programming genius.”
Tucker folded his arms over his chest. Play stupid, just play stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t?” Weston said lightly through his glaring eyes. He snatched the apple out of the air mid-toss and stalked over to Tucker, jabbing his finger into his chest. This close, Tucker could smell the deodorant Weston had sprayed on his body after basketball practice. “The rest of this school may think it was just Danny, but I know all about your double life too. You can’t fool me. I know you didn’t make the honor roll last year through any real academic merits.”
“Maybe I’m just smarter than you think, Weston.”
“Oh, I know you’re smarter than everyone else thinks. Trust me.” He took a step back and tore out another chunk of the apple. “And I know you played a bigger role in your little secret trio ghost fighting club than anyone knows.”
Tucker glanced around knowing that everyone had left the school property long ago. He would have been long gone too, had he not needed to make up this English exam. But it was worth it. He needed to appear in court for Danny. He had worked too damn hard to get his friend out of that hellhole, and he would never forgive himself if he let school get in the way of this rescue operation now.
With the assurance they were truly alone, he finally dropped his shoulders and hissed, “So what if I did? You gonna go tattle to the government?”
“No…” Weston’s gaze finally flickered away from Tucker. “But I’m just wondering what you’re going to do if he loses the trial.”
“He’s not going to lose.”
“He might.”
“He won’t,” Tucker said. “He can’t. I worked—I—he can’t lose. He can’t.”
Weston’s keen perception and ability to get under Tucker’s skin were all too annoying. “So you’ve already done something, then?”
“Yeah, Weston, it’s called spending weeks trapped in a room with lawyers being hounded by questions about my best friend. The fuck did you think I’ve been up to?”
“As I said, I’m not an idiot. You’re a hacker. What sort of revenge have you been planning?”
God, Tucker could scream. Did this moron actually think that just because he waited for Tucker after school, that suddenly meant all secrets would be revealed?
They weren’t even friends! They had never been friends! Just because Weston figured out who Danny was, didn’t mean shit!
But he forced his anger back down, he forced that urge to punch Weston in his stupid freckled face down, he forced his shaking fists into his hoodie pockets. “I haven’t planned anything, dumbass. Why would I risk Danny’s freedom like that?”
“Because you know the government is never going to give him up. He’s too powerful. You know this.”
He did know this.
“Judges don’t care what the stupid Guys in White want.”
“They don’t?” Weston said. “Huh, that’s news to me. I didn’t know the US Judicial system was so flawless. Better go correct the history books, then.” He made a big show of biting into his apple, chomping loudly as he said through a muddled jaw, “I guess the government will just have to give up a massive bio-weapon and unlimited source of ecto-energy when some random judge asks them nicely to hand Phantom over. I’m sure it’ll go over well.”
The urge to punch Weston in the face was growing stronger by the second.
“Whatever, Wes,” Tucker bit out. “If you’re just gonna be a dick, then I’m done talking to you. Unlike you, I actually have things to do. Like, you know, saving my friend’s life.”
“No, come on.” Weston grabbed Tucker’s arm, who didn’t hesitate to rip himself out of Weston’s grip. “Listen, I know you’re planning some sort of revenge against the GIW. Come on, I can help.”
“I’m not planning anything,” Tucker reiterated. Mentally, he noted that it was because he’d already done it by releasing the videos. “And even if I were, I’d never tell you.”
“I can be useful. Admit it, the fact that I figured out who Danny really was two years before anyone else did? That was impressive.”
Tucker snorted. “Sure, and we can forget the part where you stalked us trying to out Danny and sell him to the government. What’s wrong, Weston, feeling a bit of buyer’s remorse?” He whirled back around to face the other boy. “You got your wish, didn’t you? You spent years trying to sell him out to the Guys in White, and guess what? Eventually, they got him! And then the videos came out and it turned out, you were fucking right about Danny being a halfa. Wes was right all fucking along! So congrats, Wes, truly. You got your wish. Now go celebrate with someone else and leave me alone.”
When Weston finally said nothing in return, Tucker let the anger fade. The fists in his pocket uncurled, and the tightness in his neck released. He sighed and toed the patchy grass. “My best friend was kidnapped, dude. I don’t really care about your guilt or whatever it is you’re feeling. I’m just trying to get him back.” His voice cracked at the end, but he didn’t care anymore.
Tucker wasn’t some macho, tough guy. He was just a sixteen-year-old geek who liked to fool around with computer programs and play video games with his friends on the weekend. He didn’t want all…this.
But he didn’t have a choice.
“Just leave me alone,” Tucker said.
“Foley…listen, I’m sorry, okay? And—and you don’t need to recruit me. But you’re gonna have to think of something. The government’s never going to let Danny go. The videos were good, but they won’t be good enough. This isn’t the first time torture has been uncovered by the federal government.”
Tucker continued staring at the ground. He knew this…he really did…but…
“The public pressure,” he tried.
“It won’t matter.”
Tucker gnawed at his lip. “This isn’t about revenge, Weston.”
“Okay, fine. But you’ll still have to do something. And correct me if I’m wrong, but based on what you’ve already done, I don’t think this will be too challenging for you.”
Surprise flickered through Tucker, but before he could process what Weston was talking about, the taller teen had already grabbed his backpack and shouldered past him.
“Just think about it, okay?”
And then Weston was strolling to the parking lot, whistling with an ease that suggested nothing but pure innocence. Like he hadn’t just spent the past few minutes conspiring with Tucker.
Leaving Tucker standing there, alone, stunned.
Had Wes really…?
But no. No one knew about that.
Danny would be fine. Tucker had done enough. He had to have. What more could he give? What more could he do to get Danny out of there?
There was nothing else…right?
Right?
****
chapter 1 / chapter 3
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Hello! It's me again with another drabble! This is the first of five or six planned bonus chapters (?). For a slight change of pace, I wrote this one from Papyrus' POV as it seemed a bit more entertaining, but let me know if you liked this or not?
Timewise, this takes place a little over a month or two after the humans fell into the Underground, somewhere between Day 7: First Kiss and before Day 10: Dress Up.
First Day, Previous Day, & Bonus Two.
Bonus 1: Scarfs Part 2
Papyrus finished buckling the last strap, securing his chestplate to his person, before turning to the dresser to put on his gloves and scarf. He was rather proud of his armour, especially because it was unique, thanks to Sans helping him model it after a character from a comic book. Over the years, he'd had to improve it or do repairs whenever someone got a lucky hit on him, however, certain elements had always remained the same like the colour scheme and his favorite red scarf.
Speaking of which, his scarf was missing. He knew he had it yesterday after getting home from work, and after changing out of his armour, he'd put it on the dresser with his gloves like he always did. Had he misplaced it?
As unlikely as this was, he couldn't rule out the possibility all together, despite how meticulously organized he always was. He was of the belief that everything had its place and that was where it should be.
He started looking around just in case. He did remember being rather tired last night so maybe he'd just slipped up? He frowned and shook his head. As if... He didn't mess things up, he was the Great and Terrible Papyrus!
His scarf wasn't in the washing machine or dryer. It didn't seem to be anywhere in his room or in the bathroom either. It didn't make sense to be downstairs, but it was the only other place he could've left it.
Had someone stolen his scarf?
Sans would often try to pull pranks to mess with him, but he should know better than steal his favorite scarf. Usually his pranks were more obnoxious or messy though. Like there would be a ransom note demanding some stupid fee in exchange for seeing his scarf in one piece again or something.
He wouldn't put it past Frisk to take something without asking as they were a child. They may not know better or may not realize this was a big deal to him. Still, they were a smart kid and seemed to have a decent sense of social cues, plus, you were very proactive in taking care of them. There was no way you wouldn't notice if they'd stolen it.
That left you as the only remaining possible culprit. Unlike the other two, you had a more believable motive. He remembered that you really liked how soft his scarf was and had even called his armour cool. Still, you were also smart, as evidenced by how quickly you'd managed to convince him and his brother to spare you and Frisk. He liked to think you were smart enough to know stealing from anyone, let alone him, was a pretty bad idea though.
He found you and Frisk where he expected you'd be - in the living room. Frisk was playing with Doomfanger by teasing her with one of those feather wands he'd bought her. The cat was absolutely fascinated and he couldn't help but smile at how cute they both were.
You were huddled up on the couch with a blanket and a book. Normally that wasn't suspicious, however, you were practically cocooned in the blanket like you were freezing cold, despite the temperature in the house being rather warm. You also hadn't acknowledged him like you usually did whenever he entered the same room. He hadn't exactly been trying to be quiet either.
He narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously and stalked up behind you. He was an expert at moving silently when he wanted and despite how much you hated it, he found it quite funny to sneak up and startle you. Maybe it was slightly cruel, but he really liked how you sometimes jumped from the shock and how your surprise would morph into anger. You were especially cute when annoyed at him and he really couldn't help teasing you about it.
That was his intention this time as well and he was just about to hug you, when he spotted the reason you were this huddled up in the first place. Hidden underneath the blanket was his red scarf, although it was mostly covered save for a gap where the blanket had bunched weirdly by your neck.
"Oh You Did Not..."
You let out a cute little gasp when he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, crossing over your chest and gripping your upper arms firmly. He was careful not to dig his claws into your skin too much but it was a bit tricky as he hadn't put his gloves on yet.
"Thought You Were So Sneaky, Huh, Precious?" he whispered in your ear.
He could see how quickly the realization that he knew what you'd done dawned on you. It was slightly cathartic to watch your eyes widen and your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. He wasn't content leaving this here though, no, he was going to take this even further.
"Yeah..." you murmured. "I'm sorry for taking it, but I really like your scarf." Glancing up at him over your shoulder, you asked, "Any chance I could borrow it for longer...?"
He didn't miss the way your blush deepened slightly and he couldn't help the smirk that now graced his skull.
"I Do Not Take Kindly To People Stealing From Me..."
He could hear your heartrate steadily increasing the longer he kept you trapped like this. It was a bit strange that you hadn't even tried to get away, even if you were completely trapped, he had expected you would at least try.
You struggled to speak for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to say anything at all. "...I didn't actually steal your scarf..." you finally muttered. Although it was apparent that you knew how weak of an excuse this was when you couldn't make eye contact with him.
He hummed softly and shook his head. "Then, What Do You Call This? Because 'Temporarily Borrowing Without Asking' Is The Same Thing At The End Of The Day..." He loved the shocked look you gave him when he said that. It seems he'd taken your next excuse right out of your mouth.
You squirmed a little bit but predictably, couldn't get out of his grip, even if you weren't currently tangled up in the blanket on top of everything. "Look, you can have it back if you care that much..." you grumbled.
He clicked his tongue at how quickly your tone had gone from embarrassed to annoyed. That wouldn't do... You were the one in the wrong here and it seemed he would have to subtly remind you of that fact.
"Oh I Care A Lot, Precious~" he purred. "There Are Consequences For People Who Cross Me...And I Happen To Be Quite Creative When It Comes To Punishments..." He could hear your heart skip a beat at that.
"Oh This Was Turning Out Deliciously."
You glanced at where Frisk was still playing with Doomfanger, they didn't seem to have noticed the exchange somewhat surprisingly, but he tilted your head back to look at him again. You seemed worried about something but not actually scared, thankfully.
"Tell You What," he whispered. "I Know A Way To Make This All Go Away..." He could see the curiousity flicker in your eyes and couldn't seem to wipe the smirk off of his face.
"You do?" you asked softly.
He nodded in an admittedly smarmy kind of way. Moving his hand from your chin, he cupped your cheek and leaned closer to your face. He paused for a moment and when you gave him a slight nod, pressed a slow but gentle kiss to your lips.
He was fully aware that his sharp teeth could seriously hurt you if he wasn't careful. Still, this wasn't a new issue, although some of his previous lovers had actually preferred if he was rough, you were much softer than anyone else. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you afterall...
Your skin was absolutely addicting to touch, even if he'd only had limited contact so far. You were squishy and yet there was a certain firmness at the same time. You'd explained that you had a whole skeleton that held everything together which was more than a little mind blowing for him.
When he finally pulled away from the kiss, he took an unbridled amount of satisfaction in seeing how flushed and out of breath you were. It just gave him a small thrill whenever he could see the effect he had on you.
"Positively Adorable..."
He finally let go of your shoulders and drew back slightly, but not before whispering one more thing. "Could I Have My Scarf Back Before I Have To Leave For Work, Precious?"
You were apparently stunned speechless and could only nod in response. There was a hint of a frown on your face though, but he wasn't about to leave the house without an important part of his uniform. Not even if you begged him...
Probably not anyways.
#selfshipufpap#undertale#underfell#underfell papyrus x reader#reader#named oc#the hand we've been dealt#thwbd#alternate universe#raccoons drabbles
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Radar and the No Good, Very Bad Day
A short drabble that's been rattling around in my brain :)
READ ON AO3
Today has been a bad day for Radar. Not just because he's in a war zone (although that tends to make any day a little dreary), but because it's been a series of one bad thing after another. First, they'd run out of coffee in the mess hall. That was fine. Sometimes you have to start your day without coffee. But then, someone accidentally tripped him and sent his breakfast spilling all over the floor. He just got another tray. He was determined not to let this ruin his day.
However, more bad things just kept happening. He got a very angry phone call about some misfiled paperwork. It wasn't his fault, but since he's the clerk, they pinned the blame on him. Being yelled at over the phone for an hour would make anyone cranky. But that combined with the lack of coffee put Radar in an especially bad mood.
Of course, Frank decided that this would be the best time to come and bother Radar about something completely pointless. He then proceeded to insult Radar when he was unable to change the actions of others. Though Radar may practically run the camp, he's not the boss of anyone. He couldn't stop Hawkeye from filling Frank's pillow with cement even if he tried. Hawkeye doesn't listen to anyone's rules.
Radar decided to make himself feel a bit better by grabbing a soda from the Officer's club. A grape Nehi is the perfect pick-me-up. But when Radar popped the cap off it exploded everywhere, ruining several important documents. Radar was able to salvage a little, but most of the drink ended up on the desk. Radar couldn't even be sure what the ruined documents were because the ink was all smudged. He'd have to redo everything.
While he got to work on that, he decided he'd drink what little was left of his soda. He lifted the cup up, and saw a large spider floating in the liquid. Of course there just had to be a dead spider in his drink. Today was the worst day he'd had in a while, and that's saying something, considering he's in the army.
An hour later a bunch of casualties came in. Everyone flocked to the OR to help, and Radar was left running around doing tasks. He was regaling some information to Major Houlihan when a patient refused to go under anesthesia without a fight. The guy started throwing punches every which way, and one of them managed to hit Radar in the chest. It wasn't hard enough to do any serious damage, but it definitely hurt.
Radar hoped that would be the last of it. However, he was sorely mistaken. His shirt got stained with ketchup. Someone accidentally spilled water all over his newest comic book. The shower ran out of hot water. He stepped in a puddle and soaked his pant leg. The lid of the salt shaker came loose and ruined his dinner.
All in all, the day had been absolutely terrible.
And now, this was the last straw. His bear has a rip. It'd probably been there for a while and he hadn't noticed. It was pretty big now. Stuffing was sticking out from the torn fabric, the bear sagging softly. Radar had no idea how to fix it. Stupid as it is, he feels like he's about to cry.
"Hey, Radar, I need a favor!"
Radar puts the bear down on the bed as he turns to Hawkeye.
"Yeah, sure, what do you need?"
"I need three eggs and- hey, kid, you alright?"
Hawkeye's mischievous expression fades to one of worry.
"I'm fine. You need three eggs and what else?"
"Forget that. You look like someone just kicked your puppy. What's going on?"
"It's nothing. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid if it's making you sad. Now tell Aunt Hawkeye what's wrong."
"My bear has a rip," Radar says quietly. He holds up the bear for Hawkeye to see. "And it's not a big deal, but today has just been one bad thing after another, so it was the cherry on top of everything else, and I don't know how to fix it, so the rip will just keep getting bigger until he falls apart completely."
Hawkeye gently takes the bear from him. He studies the rip for a second.
"Lucky for you, I happen to be a surgeon. I can stitch him up easy-peasy. He'll barely even have a scar. C'mon, I've got some thread back at the Swamp."
Hawkeye marches out before Radar can say anything else. He hurries after Hawkeye, following him into the tent. Radar settles on a chair as Hawkeye rummages around for some supplies. He pulls out a needle and some brown thread, smiling triumphantly.
"Usually my patients are a lot bigger and less stuffed, but I think he'll pull through just fine."
True to his word, Hawkeye makes quick work of the sewing. By the time he pulls the final knot, it looks like the rip was never even there. He hands the bear back to Radar.
"See? Good as new."
"Thank you. Really." Radar shoots him a genuine smile, holding the bear tight against his chest.
"No worries, kid. Now go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day."
"G'night, Sir."
"Night."
As Radar heads back to his tent, he has a feeling that Hawkeye is right. Tomorrow is going to be a better day.
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‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❝ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 ❞・ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ︵‿
/ ❝𝑰'𝒎 𝑺𝒐𝒌𝒐❞ /
/❝𝑰'𝒎 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍❞/
/ ❝𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒆❞/
/❝𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅, 𝑰 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝑰 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘❞/
/❝𝑰'𝒎 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐❞/
/❝𝑴𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏❞/
♡✨𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈; 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔✨♡
Oh and I should probably mention my alt is @all-eyes-no-dragon because you will see me use it some places
𓁹 Insta 𓁹
❀ 25/03 birthday ❀
𓁹 purple is my favourite colour 𓁹
❀ You may also call me Nova or Shin ❀
If I write something stupid, feel free to poke holes in it! Thinking is hard 🥲
Also! If you feel like it, I would love an @ if you use any of my word prompts or writing prompts. It's not required, I'm just genuinely intrigued as to what you might've written. Only if you want to share though 💜
Down, down, down to read my stuff ⬇️
Resources:
✎ Writing piece classifications
Definitions and more. Ever wonder how many words it is to be considered a novel? What is a novelette? What is the average word count for different types of genres? What's the word count of a drabble? I got you.
✎ Really good name website: behindthename
❀ Look at: #writing prompts or #writing prompt in this account for a few ideas to spark inspiration in that wonderful Brian of yours
❀ In #whispers you'll see things I think all writers should get to hear
❀ #word of the sometimes is random words that I challenge you to write something based off
❀ #qfmn is random out of context things pulled from my notes (quotes from my notes)
❀ #random honesty is just that.
❀ #writing quotes is pretty deep as well. You'll find some wisdom nuggets by searching this!
My Personal Works:
✎ All the stories I want to write from A-Z
A vast majority are only concepts, characters and worldbuilding. I can count the number of stories I've fully outlined on one hand. Some stories I am holding off writing as I one day hope to make them into comics.
🎆 The PPU (Paranormal Powers Universe) 🎆
✎ Universe layout + descriptions
Stories:
✩ After School Guardians
✩ Dreamer
✩ Nighttime Live!
✩ The Boy Who Grew Wings
✩ Keepers Of The Sun
✩ Lovers Of The Moon
✩ Gateway To The Stars
✩ Children Of The Clock
✩ Made In Mechania
✩ Wisteria's World
✩ The Bee & The Boy
✩ An Alien's Observations
✩ Hand Me The Moon
✩ Zingy & Zesty
✎ The Raven & The Dove
Completed novelette. 13 chapters, 10.8k words and my only finished story, discounting a cringe 8 chapter short story I wrote when I was 12. Am I proud of this? It's not my magnum opus, that's for sure. I wrote this in 2 months. However, I'm happy that I finished a story and hope to write many more in future.
Summary:
Shadowed by a civilian woman who knows of his profession and yet doesn't care, the assassin for hire known as "The Raven" can't help but act more human.
When the woman, Hannah, worms her way deeper and deeper into the wretched life he lives, The Raven wishes that he was strong enough to turn her away. But his infatuation and her damned persistence won't let him.
As the two spiral deeper down a path of no return, The Raven has to wonder, “Who’s ruin will this lead to?”
His own? Or Hannah’s?
🪻 One Shots 🪻
✎ He, The Whisper (Dreamer adjacent)
POV of a character I don't plan on giving a POV in the actual book. Secondary main character of "Dreamer" and a powerful entity stripped of his original rank. This one shot goes through his thoughts as he's trapped in the Nightmare Realm. 200 words.
✎ Synth-thia, Sin-thia
Quick crack about my OC Zinthia from After School Guardians meeting her original concept who was made by me as a young, cringey child. 994 words.
✎ The Storm Called Death
Vivien from The Frost Prince's Paramour? feeling cold and angry for 195 words. This is only significant because there's a curse on him that causes him to always be cold and will eventually freeze him to death. The only thing that can stave it off is human contact but his family want him to die so he's forbidden from being touched. Otherwise, this is just him having a pity party.
I really wanted to share the newer piece a wrote for this WIP (A Pane-ful Scene) because I love it so much but I think I should keep it in my pocket cuz I might actually use it.
✎ Poor, poor, Mayor Mendler
High key fanfiction of A's Academy For Gifted Girls set post story. It's basically that one prompt about the hero and villain's rivalry being a prank on their brother the mayor except these guys are girls. 1360 words.
✎ Horology
730 words. Father Time stops time because he's disgusted with mortals but the birth and commands of some entities born outside his reach scares him into letting the timestream flow once again. Based off of a line I wrote for a companion piece song to Nighttime Live!
"Once upon a time seven powers arose
Born to a land where time itself froze
The Netherworld let out a quake
Father Time began to shake
In fear of what his God could make"
✎ Monster Knows Best
A young Kai from Pyre & Frost talks about the monster that lives with him in his house. Murder is mentioned and covered up. 374 words.
✎ purple; out of reach
What the colour purple means to Shadow, a Boogeyman from "After School Guardians" who was born wrong. 290 words.
#brain autocorrected to Brian and I'm not fixing it#intro post#soko#writing#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writers#original story#original characters#hi there#blog intro#introducing myself#my bio#all things writing#welcome to my account#welcome to my blog#welcome#prompts#behind the name#naming characters#writing stories#living life#having fun#hi tumblr#writeblr#out of context quotes#creative writing#just writer things#I intended for this so be a serious business-like account but a chill space that's occasionally funny is much more suitable#google docs
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Bedtime Story
Tilda is finally starting to become agreeable to going to sleep as Bofur tucks her in, when she makes those big puppy dog eyes at him and he accepts defeat. “Can you read me a bedtime story?” she says, lip wobbling.
Bofur is powerless to resist.
"Finnne” he says. “What kind of story would the madame like this evening? Unicorns and Rainbows or Dragons and Demons?” He holds up two vinyl albums: one by Gamma Ray and one by Ronnie James Dio.
“Rainbows and Unicorns!” shouts Tilda excitedly.
“Well, lucky for you there’s some overlap!” grins Bofur.
~~~
Bard smiles to himself. He’s drifting off to sleep, his eyelids heavy. He can hear the soft sounds of Bofur tucking the kids in in the next room and he starts to nod off.
Until he’s bolted wide awake and practically jumps a mile at the sound of Dio’s voice belting out the chorus to Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell.
#bardfur#i may turn this stupid drabble into a comic#idk#bofur#bard the bowman#tilda#metal au#bard loves his husband#but sometimes his unconventional parenting methods are too loud for the evening
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forget me not.
♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.
♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.
wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?
You accept it.
For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.
♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader
♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies
♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.
♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha
♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.
Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.
It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.
When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.
The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.
Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.
There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.
When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.
Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.
So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.
You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.
Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?
Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.
The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.
You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.
As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.
You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.
The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.
Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.
Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,
"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."
Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.
In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,
"Okay."
—
The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.
Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.
Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.
Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.
"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.
Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.
The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.
You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.
Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"
But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.
"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."
It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.
No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.
To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.
Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.
Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.
"Of course."
—
Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.
People don't know this. They don't understand this.
He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.
But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.
Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.
The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.
Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.
—
Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.
You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.
But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.
For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.
Possible remedy according to findings entail
growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.
Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.
"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"
Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.
"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"
"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"
"I'm fine. Thanks."
"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"
You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.
So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.
"No. What does that have to do with anything?"
He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."
Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"
"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."
You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.
"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."
"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.
Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.
At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.
"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."
The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.
So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.
For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.
"Hi." He says finally.
"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!
Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.
"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.
Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."
In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.
It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.
You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."
Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."
"Alright."
Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.
And honestly? Neither had you.
It's quiet. Awkward.
"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."
You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.
"You...you don't have to tell me."
"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.
You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.
He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"
You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.
"Once."
Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.
—
Midnight rendezvous.
As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.
Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.
You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.
You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.
You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.
Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"
You hum.
"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."
Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.
"And?"
"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"
Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.
"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."
"Were?"
Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.
You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.
—
Bake something from scratch.
Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.
You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.
Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.
When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.
But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.
If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.
"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"
"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"
You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."
Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.
"Huh?"
"I said you got a little...something..."
You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.
Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.
—
You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.
This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.
Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.
He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.
They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.
Though the answer is simple.
Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.
How ironic is that?
Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.
Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.
He's falling apart.
You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.
"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."
—
Self bleach hair.
It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)
His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.
You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)
You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.
"Ready to go?"
Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.
"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.
"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"
You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"
Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.
There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?
His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.
And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.
—
Make a snow angel.
From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.
The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.
Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"
Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...
"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"
What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.
"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"
You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.
For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.
“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.
You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.
Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.
You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.
You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.
It’s too good to be real.
You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.
See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)
Hyunjin speaks up first.
“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.
You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”
Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.
“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”
Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.
—
Learn to skate.
"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."
"You say it like I have a choice."
Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.
The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.
You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?
But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.
Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.
"I am pretty good, aren't I?"
He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."
Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.
"Oh my God! It is you!"
You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.
You let out a nervous laugh.
"And it's you..."
Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.
"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"
"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.
The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."
Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.
Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.
Right?
Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"
"Text me anytime."
"Sure."
“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."
"Right."
Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.
Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.
—
Watch every Disney movie ever made.
You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.
"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."
Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.
He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.
You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."
Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"
"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"
"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."
A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.
—
Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.
The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.
"Found it yet?"
You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.
You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.
Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.
"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"
You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.
You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.
"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.
—
It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?
There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.
Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.
But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.
—
Kiss underneath a mistletoe.
“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”
Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
Now...something doesn’t feel right.
The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.
He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.
Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)
When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.
He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.
And like always.
He takes your advice.
—
Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.
Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.
Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”
Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”
Your brows come together in inquiry.
“What?”
"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”
He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.
“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."
A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.
"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.
It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.
"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”
“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”
“Oh hell yeah.”
—
"Move."
You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.
In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.
Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.
See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.
All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.
The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"
This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.
In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.
"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"
"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.
"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.
#kwritersworldnet#stayhavennet#hwang hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin imagines#hyunjin angst#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids angst#stray kids fanfiction#skz fluff#skz angst#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader#jeongin x reader#hyunjin smut#stray kids smut#skz smut
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hello!! i'm in love with the way you write and the breathe & live au has to be one of the best aus i've read on here thank you so much for writing it aaaaaa
may i request another drabble for the breathe, & live au if it's not finished yet? i can't get enough of it :')))
again, thank you so much!! ^^
!!!! anon thank you so much for the kind words, it makes me very happy to hear you liked breathe, and live so much! the series is definitely not over I can tell you that, I just have to get myself off my ass to keep writing it LMAO. thank you for this request!
4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
I don't know if you specifically wanted me to write for chan in this drabble - I originally was going to do that, but then I remembered this idea that a mutual came up with (it was mai or furat or both...) a few months ago for dad!minho + kid!seungmin, so I decided to write this instead. I hope you don't mind!
Read the original series, Breathe, and Live, here!
~
Title: The Floor is Lava!
Pairing: none (Minho centric, implied Chan x reader)
Word count: 1.1k
Triggers: cursing
~
"Papa."
Minho blinks. Pauses. Makes sure he wasn't just hearing things after spending way too many hours staring at the dance video on this computer screen - he needs to get this done as soon as possible, it's all ready been too long -
A small, familiar hand tugs at his pants. "Papa."
Not a figment of his imagination, then.
Minho turns in his chair, coming face to face with a solemn-faced Seungmin clutching his favorite stuffed animal in one hand. A tired smile curves his lips. “Hey, Minnie.” He swings Seungmin up onto his lap. “I thought you were asleep. What’s up?”
Seungmin doesn’t answer. Minho watches his eyes follow Soonie’s path as he slowly traipses his way around the room. “Do you want to play with Soonie?”
A shake of the head. Okay, then. “Do you want to play with Doongie?”
Another shake.
“Dori?”
Another no.
“Do you want to play with me?”
Seungmin pauses. Nods a little. Then -
“I want Jinnie.”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
“Jinnie isn’t here,” Minho says softly, turning Seungmin around just enough to look at him. “I think he and his mom are busy tonight.” You told him yesterday you’d be going out with Chan and the kids, and that you’d probably get back a little late. “We can go and see him tomorrow?”
Seungmin nods. Stays silent. Clutches the stuffed dog in his hand even tighter.
“Alright.” Minho tries not to feel his heart crack in half. He knows he agreed to you moving out with Chan, but even then, he feels the loneliness sometimes without you and Hyunjin. He can only imagine it must be worse for Seungmin. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Okay,” Seungmin replies. “What game?”
What game, indeed. Minho didn’t manage to think this far ahead. He hums a little, eyes searching the room frantically for a game that will hopefully wear Seungmin out enough that he forgets about Hyunjin long enough to actually go to sleep...
Sometime during the course of this conversation, Dori has joined Soonie in the living room. Minho watches with an idle eye as he pads across the floor, then leaps up onto a table -
That’s it. He’s a genius.
“Minnie, do you know how to play the floor is lava?”
. . .
It takes a little preparation at first. Minho moves away the rolling chair and the smaller, unsteadier pieces of furniture. Seungmin listens carefully when Minho explains the rules - pretend that the floor is lava when he says ‘go’ and jump onto one of the toddler-proofed pieces of furniture - and warns him not to jump on any of the chairs or small tables he’s purposely moved out of reach. By that time, Doongie has also joined them, so when Seungmin asks if the cats are going to play too, Minho just shrugs and says yes. Why not?
“Remember the rules, Seungmin?” Minho calls from his spot in the middle of the living room.
By the couch, Seungmin nods. Smart boy, standing next to a piece of furniture. He definitely got that from Minho.
“Okay.” He smiles. “Three, two, one... the floor is lava!”
Seungmin scrambles onto the couch with a tiny shriek of laughter. Minho barely manages to get onto the table after Dori decides right now is the best opportunity to try and weave through his legs, forcing Minho to basically trip onto the table. “Again!” Seungmin cheers as Minho almost falls flat on his face. “Again!”
A cat jumps onto his back. Probably Dori, the bastard. Minho groans. “Let me get Dori off my back,” he wheezes, subtly trying to edge the cat off. “Come on, stupid cat.”
Finally, Dori is on the table too, and Minho can sit up to catch his breath. This isn’t going very well for him, but Seungmin’s beaming like he hasn’t all evening, and that’s what’s most important. “Alright,” he says, smiling. “Ready, set... the floor is lava!”
Seungmin leaps onto a chair at the same time Soonie does, which earns him a face full of cat fur and Minho a screeching laugh that widens his smile. Minho collapses onto the couch where Doongie has claimed a spot. Said cat looks at him with a disdainful eye when he lands on the cushions.
“You try being a father,” Minho mutters under his breath.
Doongie just turns back around, pressing his nose into his tail. Minho wants to say more, but Seungmin’s yelling “again! again!” once more all the while hugging Soonie, so Minho turns his attention back to his son and they begin to play again.
Fifteen minutes pass before Minho falls off a chair and onto the floor, prompting Seungmin to screech out a “Papa fell in the lava!”, which in turn prompts Minho to pretend that he’s dying, awkwardly flailing his limbs before assuming a comical dead position on the floor. As Seungmin’s laughs ring in the air, Doongie comes over to investigate his body. Minho kind of wonders why it was the possibility of him being dead that got Doongie to actually come over here.
Better not to think about that too much, the helpful part of his brain says.
Soonie and Dori join Doongie, and once Minho has reassured Seungmin enough times that the game is over and the floor is no long lava, his son joins them too in one little pile of fur and bodies on the floor. Minho hugs him close, feeling Seungmin giggle into his chest, and smiles despite the tiring evening. “Tired?” he murmurs into Seungmin’s ear, patting his head. He gets a little nod in reply.
For the second time that night, Minho puts Seungmin to bed, reassuring him that they’ll go to see you and Hyunjin tomorrow and that yes, maybe they can play the floor is lava with all of the other boys too. When Seungmin’s breaths have evened into sleep and Minho thinks he can safely leave the room, he pauses in the hallway and smiles.
Tomorrow, they’ll go over to your place and see Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. Tomorrow, Minho will get to see you and make sure you’re okay, all the while subtly reminding Chan that if he does anything to hurt you, he’ll pay.
Tomorrow, Seungmin will laugh like he did today.
Tomorrow, Minho will smile like this again.
Tomorrow...
Minho pauses in his thoughts. Is he sure about what he’s thinking? Absolutely sure?
He’ll never be sure. He can’t see the future. Every new day is uncertain. But for now, he can predict. He can wonder. He can believe.
He smiles again. Yes.
Tomorrow, things will be okay once more.
#districtninewriters#destinyversenet#kpopscape#stray kids#skz#lee minho#lee know#stray kids minho#stray kids lee know#stray kids minho scenarios#stray kids lee know scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids oneshots#stray kids imagines#drabble#fluff#tw cursing#single parent!au#breathe and live#the floor is lava!#4 year anniversary drabble game#lina answers#anon#scriptura-delirus
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Cross and Kitten
This extremely short drabble is specifically for @space-b33 who came up with the AMAZING concept of crosshair and his lil cat! i have based this off of me and my lil cat, who has kept me going through countless ailments. Here is to you, Bee, you amazing artist, and to you Suds, my most precious feline. May I make you happy in this life and your next eight <3. (yes, that pic IS of my suds! He just turned 1 this month! :D)
also no this isn’t me putting my cat in the star wars universe why do you ask
Crosshair was a light sleeper- he doubted it came with being a clone, but it certainly came with his line of work. He could sleep in just about any place, and he had slept in just about any place- been there, done that. Currently, his location of rest was the floor of the gunship on the long flight across the planet to some god-forsaken base.
Something padded across his face, tickling him. Crosshair swatted at it, keeping his eyes closed. The feathery touch brushed his nose again, and Crosshair moved his hand more aggressively. He was greeted by a rather offended mrrp, and the scratching against his armor. Crosshair blinked, finally surrendering his sleep, staring down at two big brown eyes and a pink nose dangerously close to his. “Cat,” Crosshair muttered, watching the kitten.
The feline purred and tilted his head, tail swishing before settling around all four of his little socked paws. Mrowr.
“You’re real proud of yourself, huh?” Crosshair scratched his fingers over the kitten’s head and through his fur, between the comically large ears that jutted out from that sweet little face. The kitten pressed a fluffy cheek against his palm, purring loudly, pressing down onto all fours and closing his eyes.
Scowling, Crosshair narrowed his brows. “No, you’d better not fall asleep on me.” The cat purred, barely opening an eye, blinking lazily, and then closing it. “I know you can see me.”
Mrrp.
With an agitated grunt, Crosshair laid back down, feeling the cat settle down, somewhat resembling a black-and-white loaf of bread, if bread could be annoying and clingy.
And yet he couldn’t find it in him to move. The breathing of the cat was rhythmic, gentle, the crescent-closed eyes and the curled smile on the cat’s lips, slumping down and pressing his little jaw on Crosshair’s plastoid chest plate. If he was fully black, he almost would have blended in with Crosshair’s armor.
A white socked foot, with four perfect pink toe pads, stretched out, and the kitten stretched out across Crosshair’s chest with a yawn. Little pointed darts showed, white and sharp, but between those little lips they were practically harmless. The kitten collapsed on Crosshair's chest and purred satisfactorily, nestling against him.
Crosshair harrumphed, shaking his head, but he found a smile creeping onto his face as he stroked the cat's back again. "Stupid cat."
___
The kitten got along well with other members of the Batch, especially Omega, who would often subject him to horrid torture, particularly sticking little bows on his head. The cat didn't mind very often, and his favorite part was batting at Hunter's hair ties.
When they landed on site, the cat padded after Crosshair, examining his new environment couriously. After a moment, he sat down in the middle of the walkway and gave a singular meow?
Crosshair turned. "Cat. Come."
The cat blinked, then diverted its gaze at the sky.
"Cat," Crosshair added some force into his words. "Come." The cat did nothing, even when he added, "Now."
Mrrp.
Crosshair glanced back at the others, who seemed to all be watching in amusement. Wrecker had lifted up his helmet, watching with a gleeful grin on his face. With an exasperated sigh, he turned back to the cat, frowning. "Cat."
The cat leaned back, tail in the air, swishing couriously, and he purred. "No!" Crosshair frowned. "Now is not play time-"
The cat ran at him, full speed, a playful fury in his eyes. He pounced, landing on Crosshair's armored foot, glancing up at him and meowing.
Hunter chuckled from next to him, the tensity since Kamino lifting a little bit. "He's growing on ya."
"I could care less about this cat."
Mrowr? The kitten plunked down and rolled into his back, rubbing his face with his paws.
Crosshair smiled under his helmet where smiling was safe, and he leaned down, gently picking up the kitten, who crawled up around his shoulders. "Stupid cat." But good cat.
#crosshair#bad batch crosshair#clone force 99 crosshair#bad batch fic#bad batch star wars#clone trooper crosshair#crosshair and cat
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Companions Giving Sole A Lap Dance:
(Hey, if ya'll want a drabble with this stuff just let me know the character and I'll go more in depth than just Headcanons 😉)
Cait:
•Much prefer to be on the receiving end of this, but whatever.
•Completely unashamed even though she's less than graceful.
•Makes up for what she lacks in coordination with intensity. The entire time she dances for you, those striking green eyes not once leave your own. It was almost suffocating how she entrapped you, somehow making the music disappear.
Curie:
•Honestly has more fun just making you laugh.
•There probably won't be much of a sexiness to the dance like one would expect given that she is entirely inexperienced.
•Nonetheless, she's not one to turn down a good learning experience, especially if it means spending some time with you..regardless of how ridiculous she feels dancing around half naked.
Danse:
•How you even got him to agree to do this is beyond me.
•Actually...have I ever mentioned that drunk Danse is a flirty Danse? Well, maybe he got a little too drunk.
•The Paladin lacked the coordination he showed out in the field, his natural rugged grace paired with the alcohol's sweet inebriation made for an interesting performance to say the least.
•He'd still be comically red the entire time, the intensity of his blush taking form of a warmth you could literally feel radiating off of him as he lazily swayed.
•Have pity on the Paladin and make him stop before he does something he'll regret.
Deacon:
•Fucking kills it.
•Deacon is no stranger to doing things like this, but there was a special element to doing it for someone he genuinely wanted to impress. Well, you were that one person that qualified.
•Unafraid to wear skimpy clothes- fishnets, if you say "pretty please"- making a whole big show of it.
Gage:
•Sorry homie, you aren't getting him to do that. He'll bitch and say that it's stupid but it's more or less due to him being embarrassed, maybe even a little insecure.
•However, he also won't expect you to give him one either because of this...even though he really wants you to.
Hancock:
•Oh please. You needn't ask twice.
•Catch him absolutely killing it. Think Deacon's good? Well Hancock's skill is ten times better.
•there's a more intimate feeling to the way he dances as well. That and he knows how to create the perfect atmosphere, which of course includes music playing over the radio by his all time fave, Magnolia.
Macready:
•Would almost definitely need to be intoxicated to agree.
•Believe it or not, Mac knows what he's doing- despite likely being drunk. He knows just when to tempt you, getting nice and close, just to pull away and start swaying to the beat once more.
•His skill is more than just a little frustrating.
Maxson:
•Very, and I mean VERY, bashful during the entire song. Oh yeah, despite being an assertive, confident man in his everyday life..when it came to doing something so silly for you? He had a hard time. Well, I suppose addressing soldiers and dancing around half naked is entirely different, right?
•Well, blushing brighter than a tato and stumbling over his feet a couple times, he'll try his best to still put on a show.
•aaaaand when that inevitably fails, he instantly goes for distracting you in another way.
•Heads up, he's gonna be rougher than usual with you because you asked him to do something he thought was embarrassing.
Nick:
•No.
•Okay, fine. He's very hesitant to be overly lewd though, so his "lap dance" may very well look more like a little classier than what you may expect.
Piper:
•Does it like a champ, but there is only one issue...
•Piper can't make an entire song without putting her hands on you. Look, it's not against the rules by any means but..it's really hard for you to hold out when she goes from tying your hands up with her scarf to shoving tiddies in your face.
•Secretly gets a kick out of making you squirm.
Preston:
•Has a very "if it's what you want, babe" kind of attitude towards dancing and it shows...
X6-88:
*sits there naked, unmoving as "Butcher Pete" plays in the background, shades still on.*
#fallout 4#fallout#paladin danse#fo4 companions#fallout companions#danse#elder maxson#porter gage#curie#deacon#x6 88#cait#hancock#fo4#light nsft#arthur maxson#macready#brotherhood of steel
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— choso ft. curse!reader
a/n: a little drabble hc thing written for my choso queen @wasabito
—choso doesn’t understand what you are the first time he met you— you made for a very convincing lost soul as you drifted from place to place. he summed up that you were also unaware of your presentation, seemingly baffled by the lack of reaction that you received from passing pedestrians. call him intrigued and mildly invested for the next few days to come, observing at a distance as you tried to communicate with anyone who would listen— could listen— still not realizing your options were limited.
—he could intervene at any point. not to feed into your silly need to make acquaintances. probably to kill you actually. this naivety and unaware would make an easy meal of cursed energy. your resolve may have been strong enough to fight through the accumulation of curses molding your form, but you lacked that combative instinct to put up a fight. really, he’d be doing you a favor by putting you out of your misery.
—there was no preamble or plan needed. he would just appear, take and go on with his day. probably inform mahito about the propensity for potential special grades to procure. he doesn’t even concentrate his energy, a simple strike to the back of your head would do the job— but then you’re turning, eyes alight with surprise, then consideration and finally blinding excitement.
‘you can see me!’
he hadn’t even said a word but his gaze had locked with yours and you just knew. filled with so much hope as you stupidly reached out to touch him. choso was overwhelmed with a mask of patience he didn’t know he possessed. he stood in a stupor as your hands molded against the planes of his chest and familiarized along the lines of his sides. there was nothing sexual about the touch, but the foreign warmth you were emitting itched at his skin in a way he couldn’t describe.
the grip that was meant to close around you neck, settled for your wrists instead to break the contact. it wasn’t enough to wipe the elated grin off your face as you animatedly chatted away about your name and other idle details.
he had never felt this way about a curse before. the dark energy was there, dense and tangible to give you a form. yet where was the thrill to kill and consume?
—choso did not kill you that day. and neither did his watch end. though he wasn’t as obscure as he had been before. now you knew to look for him. though seldomly succeeding as he had the power to conceal his presence. sometimes you were determined regardless, eyes scouting with a little pout on your lips. other times you called out to him, never his name though as he had yet to give it.
‘i know you’re there.’ you didn’t.
‘please, come talk to me.’ he shouldn’t
‘i’m so lonely.’ ….how fitting.
—you’re such a strange sentimental being. not yet understanding why humans shudder at your presence like a bad omen. it should discourage you— prove that something is not quite right about you. yet he finds that it doesn’t deter you in the least. slowly you realize that while they can’t always see you, most of them acknowledge your existence in one way or another. it feeds into a different kind of goal for you, one unlike his own that breeds into the ideal of a world without humans.
—he finds it almost comical as you teeter throughout the city completing your own personal list of chores.
snagging stray balloons and returning them to grabby hands.
nudging toys from the way of traffic to deterring wandering children.
he once actually witnessed you guiding an old woman across the street. thick brows raising in disbelief at the shaky voice of gratitude you’d received.
it wasn’t much but he just knew you would savor that moment for weeks to come.
‘you’re going to get yourself killed.’
—despite the harsh warning, you’re still grinning at him. its the first time since that day that he’d willingly approached you. and you retained that stupid grin all while he explained how you were too weak. that you were just asking for curses to pounce and feed on your being. all while implying that he was one of them.
—no other spirit would be as lenient with their curiosity as he had been. it was a surprise that you lasted this long.
you told him it wouldn't come to that.
but it did.
nearly.
—he hadn’t been the only one watching you. it had only taken a few moments of you being outside of his typical territory. choso didn’t understand why you would drift that far after being so content before. he couldn’t comprehend why it had even registered on his radar.
—they were all low grades but in a pack it spelled lethality for you. unlike him, there were no spoken words, they struck without warning. you would have perished without a blink of an eye. your presence lost without a single soul to mourn and only one as witness.
and yet you lived to see another day.
after eliminating each and everyone, he called you stupid.
not for not acting like a proper curse.
or for wasting your time on damn souls.
not even for failing to defend yourself.
‘why would you leave my reach?’
why are you making me feel these things?
and of course you didn’t give him a proper answer. just that foolish little smile that drew him into this mess in the first place.
‘because i knew you’d come anyway.’
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Six Seven Sentence Sunday 🖋
Chapter 1: SidewalkSummary: Sometimes, all it takes is one word. A love story told in 100-word drabbles.
Rating: T (For Now)
Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Romance, Slice of Life, Meet Cute, Freeform, They’re Both Idiots Your Honour
Of all the places to fall in love, it had to be a sidewalk. Her umbrella was huge, far too big for a person of her stature. Its yellow was garish, screaming amongst the gloom of the rainy Tokyo streets.
Her head turned towards him, and he baulked at the blue of her eyes, arguably brighter than any ugly yellow umbrella.
His jaw dropped comically with a click, and he picked it back up when he noticed her staring right back. Green was a-go and Inuyasha was crossing the street before he could say something stupid.
Maybe in another lifetime.
Read it on AO3 ▶
After my tentative ventures in ficlets, and a recent unquenchable appetite for super, super short form fiction (I blame this entirely on @gribed-li) I realised drabbles were a perfect writing exercise to get the creative juices flowing. Could I keep myself to 100 words? Turns out, yes, wow. I have a really big bucket of one word prompts (365 to be exact) that each chapter is based around and a good chunk of ‘chapters’ are written and done. I may as well share it, rather than let it fester in a document. There is no plan here, other than paint a picture in exactly 100 words.
Each drabble will be shared on Tumblr, and cross posted to AO3, every Mon/Wed/Fri. For that reason, I'm dropping the tag train for this one. This is the first and last AN that will appear for One Word. Ttyl bbs! 🤸♀️💋
#Do you believe in love at first sight?#inukag fanfiction#inuyasha fanfiction#six sentence sunday#fanfiction#drabble collection#one word prompts#one word#inuyasha x kagome
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splinters of love • day XXIII [ksj]
pairing ⟶ kim seokjin x fem!Reader
summary ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site.
Specifically ⟶ • day XXIII
↳ in which Seokjin has been wanting to propose for a while now but he has lost the ring and he doesn’t know what to do with himself until you show up, quite flustered, with the ring right between your fingers.
genre ⟶ fluff, a bit of smut at the end *winky face*
rating ⟶ 18+
word count ⟶ 1.236 words
warnings ⟶ mild depictions of sexual intercourse, more on the suggestive side but still nsfw!
series masterlist ⟶ here (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)
“Where the hell did it go?!” Seokjin curses under his breath, tugs on his hair with his fingers until he is pretty sure he’s gonna pull out some locks and all the while, his eyes keep scanning over the bedroom and the mess he has made of it.
Tonight was supposed to be the night, the moment he’d finally bend on one knee and ask you to marry him and make him the happiest living man on Earth but of course, he had to screw up the most crucial part of it all: the ring.
He had bought it on a whim three months prior to this very moment and ever since he had been thinking about the moment he’d give it to you. It could be a romantic moment, a party even or maybe something more mundane and personal or… the possibilities were endless so he kept putting it off and off until the days turned into weeks and then those transformed into months.
He was sure he had put it back between his socks the other day after staring at it for hours while you were at work but now he’s not sure anymore because the ring is gone and he thinks he might be having a stroke or something.
He can’t breathe properly and the frustration makes his blood boil, his heart thump uncomfortably against his ribs.
“Tell me I didn’t lose the bloody ring,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head as he bends down to look between his underwear, the sheets, pretty much everything that is lying on the floor right about now.
He is so engrossed in it all he doesn’t hear you coming back from home, he doesn’t catch your voice telling him you’re going to take a shower and he doesn’t hear your steps as you come into the bedroom with nothing but a towel around your naked body.
“Seokjinnie?” Your voice is soft but startles him enough to jump as he turns around with shock written all over his features.
His mouth opens almost comically and honestly you would be laughing at him right about now if it weren’t for one tiny golden detail between your fingers.
You found the little ring on the bathroom floor and at first you didn’t realise what it was and what it could mean but then, when you finally grasped it within your fingers you just… knew.
Seokjin’s eyes finally catch the glint in your fingers and his heart stops beating for a whole second before it returns to that uncomfortable pump that makes him feel almost nauseous.
“Where… where did you find that?” His voice is strangled as he rushes forward, his fingers itching to get it out of your grasp and he knows it’s stupid because now you’ve seen it and it’s not like you can unseen it and pretend to be surprise the moment he asks you.
He fucked up and ruined everything, simple as that.
“It was on the bathroom floor.”
Your eyebrows knot in confusion, your lips slightly protruding forward as if another question is about to fall out of your mouth but nothing comes out, instead, you gulp down heavily, fix your eyes back on the ring and then shift it up on him once more.
By the shook on his face, this is exactly what it looks like.
Seokjin grimaces, closes his eyes as he fists his hair once more while turning around to shield his face from you in utter shame.
Romantic, fancy or mundane, uh? What about disastrous, instead.
“Seokjin what is going on?” You ask, taking a few tentative steps his way so that you can grasp his arm with one of your hands, pull on his shirt until he turns around you and faces you once more.
“I’m an idiot, that’s what’s going on.”
He sighs, rests his hands on his sides as he hangs his head in shame before you.
Well, fuck it, it’s now or never—he thinks to himself and before you can even register what is happening he is crouching down on one of his knees, his hands grasping yours around the ring and a little sheepish smile is stretched onto his plump cherry lips.
“I think I kind of ruined it but… will you merry me?”
You blankly stare at him for a few seconds. Well, maybe me more than that considering the distressed look on his face as you fail to respond.
The truth is that you are surprised, overwhelmed even and struggling real hard to grasp the current situation.
You try to calm your thoughts, to control the rampant beating of your heart but fail miserably and then… it sinks in all of a sudden, cutting your breath short.
The tears come first, the trembling bottom lip comes second and then you are on your knees too, nodding your head frantically before him.
“Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you,” you breathe out as a little sob escapes your mouth while his lips turn into a bright smile instead.
Happiness glows out of him and embraces you whole as his fingers take the ring out of your grasp so he can push it down your ring finger himself.
You stare at his hand, at the gentleness of the act and a deep shiver runs down your spine as you imagine the moment he’d do this in front of your families after pronouncing his vows.
You can almost see it if you close your eyes, feel it even all around you and it makes you so happy you think you might actually collapse because of it.
His lips are on yours before you can say any of this, voice out your utter joy and inner thoughts but you do not mind, especially when one of his hand travels behind your head to pull you a little into him and keep you there, right where he loves it the most.
You don’t register the way your hands fly to his hair, tug on them as you bring him down on the floor with you. You don’t register the towel coming off of your body nor the shiver that runs down your spine as he stares at your naked body.
He can’t take the image of you like this out of his head. Bare before him with just that ring to grace your skin.
His heart feels like bursting in his chest while the rest of his blood coils down to his groin, makes his mouth run dry.
You call his name then, bite your bottom lip in a silent but explicit request to have him right between your legs and he eagerly complies crushing your mouths together while his hands travel on your body as if he was discovering it for the very first time in his life.
You arch your back into him, call his name, moan and whimper for him throughout the entire night while he kisses you, whispers sweet nothings into your ears and makes love to you over and over again until it really feels like you’ve merged together and no boundaries exist anymore between your bodies.
You imagined marrying Seokjin a thousand times, hell, you’ve dreamed about it even because you already knew, even after your first day together, that you wanted to spend your entire life with him. Tonight, it finally feels like the first of an eternity together.
Copyright © 2020 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. Do not repost, do not steal, do not translate without consent.
#hyunglinenetwork#thekimlinenet#ksmutclub#jin smut#seokjin smut#bts smut#jin fluff#seokjin fluff#bts fluff#bts x reader#jin x reader#seokjin x reader#bts ff#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts react#!splintersoflove
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Pieces of You - Drabble 3
Drabble 3: Gift for Mardimari3
Relationship: Todoroki Shouto / Yaoyorozu Momo
Category: Among Us Au / slight romance (?)
Warning: Mentions of violence but nothing detailed
Rating: T
Art Link: https://twitter.com/Mardimari3/status/1337602201263296515
Story Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935277/chapters/71371338
Thank you to Taq for betaing this drabble.
I haven’t been in a good place this week. No real reason behind it just got down and I needed something small and silly to lift my mood. Mardi’s works – especially the little TodoMomo comics - always make me so happy, so I decided to write a quick drabble of one of my favorite of Mardi’s comics. Link Here for the drawing this drabble is based off of.
XXXXXX
A pair of white boots clicked off of gray aluminum flooring.
“Why the fuck do I have to be paired with you?” A deep voice grumbled.
Todoroki Shouto blinked. Slowly, he looked up from his clipboard to stare at Bakugo Katsuki, the ship’s pilot, trudging ahead of him down the dark corridor.
A low rumbling sounded in the vents, as one of the spaceship’s generators turned on.
Shouto frowned.
Bakugo should know as well as anyone why they had to travel in pairs. The night before, Midoriya Izuku, the ship’s captain, had informed the crew of another death. It was the second one on the spaceship. And even Shouto, who wasn’t always the fastest on the uptake, knew what that meant.
“Because there may be an imposter among us.”
“I know that, idiot,” Bakugo snapped. He turned to glare at Shouto over his shoulder. His lips twisted into a sneer. “Still doesn’t explain why I had to be paired with you . You weak ass motherfucker.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued down the hall.
Shouto opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it.
In truth, he hadn’t wanted to do the security checks with Bakugo either. He would much rather have been paired with another of their shipmates…a very specific shipmate.
His chest tightened in a way that was becoming all too familiar as Shouto thought of the spaceship’s chief engineer.
Yaoyorozu Momo.
Warmth spread up Shouto’s neck, and he swallowed thickly, looking back down at his checklist.
It was easy to justify why Shouto admired and looked up to her. Yaoyorozu was smart, beautiful, kind - the perfect crewmate and friend. That was probably why he wanted to spend every waking moment with her. And, he had to admit, probably part of the reason why he was more than a little disappointed when she had assigned the pairings and had chosen to work with the stupid, despicable little purple grape head instead of him.
Her reasoning made sense – of course it did, Yaoyorozu always made sense, but that didn’t stop the green feeling of jealousy from tightening around his heart.
Fluorescent lights lining the bottom of the steel walls cast dark shadows along the winding hallway.
Shouto's fingers tightened around his pen. “We’re almost done. Two more rooms...”
Then he would be free to go back to the cafeteria and maybe – hopefully - Yaoyorozu would be there reading her book. She’d smile as he would enter and offer him tea.
Bakugo scoffed loudly. And Shouto fought down the smile pulling at his lips as they came to the end of the corridor.
Three floor-to-ceiling metal doors stood before them. Shouto’s eyes scanned the air-locked entryways on each wall. Next to each gate was a red button encased in glass. All in-take. Nothing out of the ordinary.
A good sign.
In the last two murders the buttons had been tampered with.
“I’m opening the reactor first,” Bakugo said, reaching out to the glass case next to the door to his left, flipping it up.
Shouto nodded and looked back down at his spaceship floor plan. There was a hiss as the metal door slid open.
There was a sharp gasp.
From the corner of his eye, Shouto saw Bakugo freeze. He marked the box next to the reactor room and looked up to see what made Bakugo still.
His heart jumped in his throat.
“Yaoyorozu.”
In the middle of the floor, a pool of blood surrounded the decapitated body of Mineta Minoru. Yaoyorozu Momo stood above him, her dark eyes wide. There were a few smudges of what looked like blood on her face and arms.
Shouto’s pulse quickened.
Yaoyorozu brought her hand up to her curl in front of her chest. “I-I just found him stabbed 37 times,” she said quickly, her usually calm voice pitched higher.
Shouto looked back down at the crumpled form of his former crewmate. He had never liked Mineta but still…
It must have been truly traumatizing to find her crewmate like this, especially when they were supposed to be a pair.
He looked back up and met Yaoyorozu’s dark eyes. Shouto smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Thank you for reporting this.”
Yaoyorozu started “Ye-yes, of course,” she said, avoiding his eyes. Her fingers trembled.
She was acting strange.
Was she hurt?
Shouto’s stomach twisted as he looked her over for any injuries. He knew he wasn’t always the best at picking up on things, but she didn’t seem injured. Relief washed over him and Shouto allowed his gaze to drift back to her face.
Yaoyorozu’s usually bright eyes were dark, and her lips quivered. She looked so small at that moment, all Shouto wanted to do was reassure her that everything was going to be alright.
He straightened. ”Go clean up. I’ll make you some tea to help your nerves.”
Yaoyorozu’s head jerked up and her eyes glistened. She stared at him for a moment and then a small smile pulled at her lips that made his stomach flip. “Thank you Todoroki-san, I knew I could count on you.”
Heat warmed his face, and Shouto looked away, hoping she hadn't noticed. He cleared his throat. “I’ll notify the cleaning team to come and deal with this. Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”
“No.” She sniffed and reached up to rub at her face. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Todoroki-san.”
He nodded, and his eyes narrowed. “But…you’ll let me know if I can do anything for you?”
Yaoyorozu licked her lips. “I will.” She smiled and folded her hands together in front of her and bowed. “Thank you,” she whispered again, before straightening and hurrying past them and down the corridor.
Shouto waited for the sound of her boots to fade, before looking back at Bakugo.
The ship’s pilot hadn’t moved. His red eyes were wide as he continued to stare at Mineta Minrou’s corpse.
Shouto frowned.
He never thought of Bakugo as the type to be affected by traumatic events, but apparently everyone had their limits.
He leaned forward to push the red button next to the entryway. The metal doors to the reactor room hissed shut, cutting off the blooded body of Mineta Minrou from view.
Bakugo jerked as the entryway bolted shut. His hand darted up and he clutched his heart. “What. The. Fuck?”
Shouto frowned.
And the pilot said he was the weak one?
“Let’s go,” he said after a moment. Shouto held the clipboard to his chest as he turned to walk back towards the cafeteria. This would be a hassle to report, but at least he could spend time with Yaoyorozu.
He wondered what type of tea she’d like.
Perhaps chamomile?
#todomomo#todoroki shouto#bakugou katsuki#Yaoyorozu Momo#My writing#My Story#todomomo drabble#todoroki x yaoyorozu
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what lies beyond forever with oikawa
hq!!reqs temporarily: closed ; all other reqs: open
send me a number a character and i’ll write you a drabble ;
82. what lies beyond forever oikawa ; college!au ; 1,653 words
he’d never believed in forever, not really -- the thought of some eternal plane stretching into the neverending distance, somewhere across the horizon -- it never found purchase in the vast winding tributaries of his mind. he never thought about the eventual heat-death of the universe, or the possibility of impending doom lurking across the cornflower sky, beyond the atmosphere where time and space became one and the same, where the very fabrics of reality, his reality, to be clear, might tear and be resewn into a different patchwork of truths.
he never thought he’d yearn for forever.
until he met you.
you blow through his life like the summer wind, sweet and warm and a little unexpected but never unwelcomed. you smiled like sunsets and laughed like thunderstorms in the middle of july, the lightening around your shoulders striking through him, setting his very bones a-chatter. iwaizumii tells him he’s in love to his face, and still, oikawa refuses to believe him.
“i don’t sing but if i did, it’d be that one song from the stupid disney movie you like about that dude with the weird hair and chin.”
oikawa sputters, “first of all, i’ve heard you sing -- if you actually tried, you might not be half bad, not as great as me, obviously,” he ducks to avoid a narrow swipe for his head, “and second, hercules is a classic disney masterpiece and his hair and chin are iconic.”
iwaizumi grunts, flipping through another page of the most recent issue of jump.
“right, but that whole -- bitch, why you lyin’ song from there. that one -- that’s you right now.”
oikawa heaves a stage-worthy sigh as he slumps down next to iwaizumi on their dorm couch.
“iwa, i know i’ve taught you better than this -- you know that song’s from the why you always lyin’ meme, and not hercules.” and people have the gall to call him impatient. ignorant fools. but, he supposes that iwaizumi isn’t wrong (the fact that he usually never is pisses oikawa off more than he’d ever admit out loud), and that well, he is, technically, kind of sort of really actually, pretty deeply, in love.
with you.
“whatever. point is. you’ve got the shits. now what do you do about it?”
oikawa grimaces, “could you not make my love life sound like irritable bowel syndrome? thanks.”
“too bad your love life is actually like ibs. you think i’d be here otherwise?”
oikawa blinks, “you’re only here cause i’m suffering from emotional diarrhea?”
“isn’t there a saying about best friends being there to laugh at you in jail before bailing you out?” iwaizumi glances up from the comic. oikawa pouts.
“that’s not how the saying goes -- it doesn’t even make any sense!”
iwaizumi flaps a nonchalant hand at him, “whatever. point is. you’re deep in this shit, and somethin’s gotta be done.”
oikawa heaves another sigh. what is it with iwaizumi and making shit-analogies. he was like this in highschool too, with all the shit-based nicknames. oikawa shudders as he remembers some of iwaizumi’s more creative names and decides there are better things to mope about. like you, and the fact that he’s still yet to make any moves towards this relationship he’d like to be in with you.
“i mean,” oikawa mutters, huffing as he curls his arms around his knees on the sofa, “i know what i have to do. i just gotta grow another pair of balls and ask her out.”
iwaizumi chuckles, “that’s assuming you already have a pair. and from where i’m sitting, that ain’t true. so let’s focus on just growing one pair, mkay?”
this time, it’s iwaizumi who ducks barely in time to miss the couch cushion swung wide in his direction.
“you’re the fucking worst.”
iwaizumi grunts, grinning, “ain’t that what best friends are for?”
when he sees you the next day, he wonders if iwaizumi was right -- if this is what love feels like. and it’s so much more than butterflies -- it had seemed so much easier in his head, and it’s not like he hasn’t dated before. but all those times, he was the one being confessed to. now that he’s on the other side of the equation, he starts to feel a little sorry for all the girls he's rejected across the span of his dating career -- if you say no, right now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to recover.
“tooru-san, are you okay?”
oikawa clears his throat, casts his eyes about, wincing as he accidentally looks right into the light of the afternoon sun. it’s too damn hot. summer’s never really been his season, but sweet heavens, does it look good on you. or maybe it’s just the sundress. yeah, that oughtta be it.
“i... i want you to go out with me.”
you blink, before the corners of your lips lift and you breaking into a torrent of laughter. oikawa stares at you, dumbfounded. of all the way’s he expected this to go -- this was not one of them.
“ah, right -- hajime-sempai did say you were going to confess today.”
oikawa’s eyes go wide, he gapes at you for a few moments, his mouth working silently over all the words he doesn’t know how to say.
“iwa told you? and since when were you guys on first-name terms?”
“we’re in the same chem lab together.”
oikawa scoffs, “right, i forgot that you’re both trying to be rocket scientists in the future.”
you smile, “says the pre-med student.”
oikawa flushes, “that’s besides the point.”
you quirk an eyebrow, “ah, right. you were confessing, sorry -- please do continue.”
oikawa scowls, knitting his arms across his chest, resisting the urge to stomp his feet like a petulant child.
“well that’s not fair. you pre-empted me. you --!” he fights for a word, any word that might encompass some of what he’s feeling right now, but he comes up blank. finally, he simply settles for another huff, shoulders scrunched up in frustration.
you grin, “would a date make it better?”
“no -- it wouldn’t -- wait, what?” he does a double-take, all anger and embarrassment and irritability leaving him at your words and all they could entail. a date? with him? and you? does that mean --
you nod, “yeah, to make up for ruining your confession.”
he narrows his eyes, “did iwa put you up to this too, because if he did, i swear to god i’ll kick his ass so hard it goes concave --”
you’re laughing again, and the sound punches him in the stomach, hard, leaving him winded and unsteady. he’s always loved the way you laugh, but somehow, it lands differently on this side of the almost-confession.
“he didn’t! i promise, and even if he did, that doesn’t change the fact that i’d still want to go with you.”
“you... want to go... with me.” oikawa repeats the words as if trying to remember what each of them means. and then, his eyes brighten up like a cascade of bursting stars.
“like on date?” he asks, hopeful, childish, wonderous.
you roll your eyes, “didn’t i just say that?” but there’s no malice in your voice, and the smile on your lips is sweeter than anything oikawa’s ever seen in his entire life.
“yeah -- ha -- guess you did,” he scratches at the back of his head, unsure of how to proceed from here. in his head, he’d only ever planned out the speech, the grandiose way in which he’d declare his love for you, how you’d hopefully accept, and then you’d somehow end up walking hand in hand into the blistering summer sunset, but this -- this fast-forward of events catches him off guard.
it’s not in his nature of think about things like forevers. and he’s still not quite used to it. but with you, he thinks that he might have to reconsider.
“so...? where should we go?” you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet.
oikawa lets out a helpless laugh and shakes his head.
“dunno. but uhm... let’s go find somewhere to go. together, maybe.”
it’s not in his nature of falter either. but then again, he supposes that this is what love does to a person. scramble up their entire lives, upend it over a cliff till all the bits that used to make sense are sunk somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.
you nod once, grinning wide and reach out to take his hand. he lets you lace your fingers. he lets you swing your arms.
he lets you lead him towards the little bakery around the corner of the street, still a little dumbstruck by the turn of events but as the summer sun blows out over the vast horizon, he can’t help but wonder at all the impossible things that may lie beyond it.
he smiles. three seconds into this relationship thing, and he’s already turning into a sap.
but maybe iwaizumi really was right, and maybe this is just what love does to a person -- reshape the foundations of their world, make them wonder about the future, the one that no one can ever see, the one where the universe might die in a boom or a fizzle, where forever isn’t just a thought but a concept, tangible and achievable. dark -- terrifying. lonely.
he holds your hand a little bit tighter, smiles to himself, tells himself that he’s being stupid. but then he thinks that that’s part of love too -- being stupid enough to think about all those things, about all that might lay on the other side of forever, and then decide that well, he’s perfectly happy with everything on his side of forever, just the way it is.
#oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi hajime#haikyuu imagines#oikawa#floofy floof floof#yo this turned out to be more of an iwaoi friendship fic than proper romance but lol i liked it#just kidding it has a good amount of actual romance#its cute#and oikawa is such a lovable jackass i couldn't resist#making him stutter and calling him on his bullshit#u__u#haiCUTIES
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running in airports + hong joshua
delayed flight after delayed flight felt like a total nightmare, but at least your boyfriend can help you forget it a little
drabble | fluff, nc.17, getting tipsy
feelin a little antsy bein stuck at home rn!! and the bangkok vlogs did not help!!! anyways i am reminiscing of a time where i was travelling in january so have a travelling with bf shua imagine
~
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Your shoulders dropped as Josh groaned and let his head make an impressively loud thud against the wall. The two of you have been sitting in an airport in Paris for nearly eight hours now, and the plane you’re due to board to finally go home to Seoul after two weeks of touring and sightseeing and food that was incredibly amazing but thoroughly exhausting has been cancelled due to snow. You had been hopeful earlier in the day, thinking that all the delays would end in a flight, but alas, mother nature had other plans for you. You allowed yourself to stare out the windows opposite to your resting spot for a bit, watching the little white flakes of doom float down in stark contrast of the dark sky beyond it.
You let your head loll to the side and inspected Joshua’s profile. “I suppose we should go talk to customer service.”
He let out a long sigh before saying some mumbled phrase that sounded like “yealrite” and making motions to stand up from where you had both been lounging on the floor. He stuck out a hand and pulled you to your feet before swinging his bag over his shoulder and holding his arm at a forty-five degree angle expectantly. You immediately intertwined your fingers with his once you had your backpack on.
There was already a line forming at the customer service desk. An older woman glared at you vehemently when you beat her to it.
You blinked hard, closed your eyes, then gently leaned against Josh, cheek on his shoulder.
He looked down at you. “Y’alright, babe?”
You nodded before opening your eyes again. “I’m tired and I wanna go home but eh. I’ve been worse.”
He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Exact same.”
After a short lived disagreement with the lady behind the desk that insisted that the plane in four hours would be taking off on time despite Josh’s argument that the snow would still be around in four hours, the two of you had booked the next flight to Seoul at 6:45 PM and suddenly had four hours to kill. It wasn’t worth leaving the airport for, so the two of you wandered around for a bit before deciding to grab a bite to eat at one of the many open restaurants littered around the building.
“Someone could definitely break their own neck,” you said, guiding the straw to your michelada to your mouth. “Joker did it in the Batman comics.”
Josh stuck out his index finger. “That’s comic logic! I don’t think it’s possible. Surely there’s something in your brain that stops you from doing stupid shit like that.”
“What, like that finger biting thing?”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
Your jaw dropped. “You mean it’s not true?”
He laughed at the look on your face. “You’re way too gullible, oh my god.”
“I’ve been living the past three years of my life believing I had carrot fingers!”
His laughter settled into a giggle as he sucked on his own straw, digging around the ice in his glass. “We need more alcohol.”
You picked up your own drink and examined the lack of drink itself. “We will always need more alcohol.”
After three more rounds, Josh heard a song he recognized playing over the speakers and suddenly stood up. You chortled at the sound his chair made as it scuttled backwards and consistently sipped at your drink. Before you knew it, Josh’s hand was in front of your face. You followed his arm up to his face and looked at him quizzically.
“May I have this dance?”
You grinned and put down your glass, slapping your hand into his and uncrossing your legs. “Why, of course.”
He kept your hand in his and placed his other on your hip, swaying gently, eyes closed, to the melody of the song you didn’t know. A grin never left your face as you wrapped your free arm around the back of his neck. You noticed Josh humming softly before he rested his forehead against yours. You scanned his features at the close range. His eyelashes that stuck out from under his wiggling eyelids, the bridge of his nose that sloped perfectly down, his cheeks that were slightly rosy… And most importantly, the part of his face that you couldn’t quite see beyond your nose - those lips you knew so well. The lips that would wish you good night with a gentle brush against the cheek and the lips that would make you act like a highschooler again, reverting all the knowledge of love that you had gained in the past five years. The lips that you soon realized you needed right at that very moment or else something terrible would happen.
You let go of Josh’s hand and placed your hands on his cheek, pressing your lips against his. His reaction was immediate, a small smile and a hint of passion. You felt your face begin to glow red, 80% because of the alcohol and 20% because you were kissing your drunk boyfriend in a Paris airport at 6:30 PM-
You broke away suddenly. “Shit.”
Josh looked extremely confused and disappointed at the sudden turn of events. “What?”
“We’re gonna miss the plane.”
The next ten minutes included a fit of laughter, a hasty bill payment, a few trips over chair legs, and a mad dash to your gate, hand in hand. As you giggled and ran, you wondered if one more night in Paris would have been so bad.
#hi!#new blog hoo dis#joshua#joshua hong#shua#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#joshua imagines#joshua fluff#joshua scenarios#i wrote dis#the bangkok vlogs had me feelings some kind of way about sir shua im sorry#josh
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