Advent 2015 [backdated week 2]
Title: Advent 2015
Fandoms: (in this part) Super Junior,EXO,f(x),GOT7,BAP,BTS
Pairings: Donghae/Henry, Sehun/Chen, Amber/Victoria, JB/Jackson, Yongguk/Himchan, Suga/V
Rating: overall PG13
A/N: so,i'm hella late with posting. I couldn't write anything the second week of december, and i'm now hurriedly catching up but changing idea everytime i reread were i left off with the handful of drabbles i did start, rewriting them from scratch ^^;;
❆masterpost
7. sketchy video titles || donghae/henry || (maybe AU) || ~500w
The last kernel has popped in the microwave when Donghae’s doorbell rings. The man goes to the door, getting a faceful of Henry in the tiny peeping hole, his grin widened comically by the fish eye effect of the lenses. Donghae unbolts the door and lets the younger guy in, waiting for Henry to take his shoes off.
“About time you arrived. You didn’t even answer my text, where have you been?” the elder complains. “And how did you get in?” he suddenly asks, because he certainly didn’t buzz the pest in.
“A pretty lady was leaving the building as I approached and I chatted her up. Sorry, I didn’t notice the time flying,” Henry explains with a nonchalant shrug as they head to the living room, and a smug smile at the memory of the girl’s flustered face (nevermind that she was more freaked out than interested in him).
Donghae sighs. He heads back in the kitchen, throwing a, “Set things up while I take the food,” over his shoulder.
Henry salutes him and shouts yessir! before taking his laptop out of his messenger bag and places it on the floor by the large TV, fumbling with the cable to connect the devices and have a better screen for the films especially pirated legally downloaded for the occasion.
Donghae enters the room as Henry’s movies folder loads on his flat screen, a six-pack in a hand, a bowl of fresh popcorns in the other, and a bag of flavored chips held lightly but firmly under each arm. He miraculously doesn’t spill nor break anything, since his attention is focused more on the titles of the films Henry collected than on setting the munchies on the coffee table opposite the couch.
“Fast & Furious 69? I mean, the saga is getting long, but I don’t think they got that many episodes…
“Indiana Jones and the broken rubber? Really, now.
“The lord of the cockrings?! Seriously, what kind of movies did you download?” Donghae explodes, sounding almost offended. Why did he even hope for a typical, ‘boring’ movie night when he invited Henry, of all people?
“Nothing tickles your fancy?” Henry asks, apparently oblivious to the elder’s slight discomfort. “Wanna change genre, maybe some horror?”
“No thank you, “ Donghae refuses firmly, “I don’t stomach the real deal well enough, I’d probably be scarred for life by these renditions, if the previous titles are enough indication of what kind of films you really brought.” He shivers in barely contained disgust, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth to distract himself.
“When all else fails, let’s go with some good ol’ Disney: Peenocchio, Cinderbella, 7 dwarves for Snow White…” Henry lists off, but is quickly shut down.
“No, nopity, nope. Fuck’s sake, don’t ruin the classics.”
Henry harrumph. “Ugh, so picky.” He goes further down the folder, eventually spotting a sure winner.
“Hey, I got your favorite! Titanic!”
“Something tells me it’s not the real one,” Donghae bites back, eyeing suspiciously between Henry’s face and his blasted list of questionable movies. “Where did you even get them from?”
At Henry’s suggestive eyebrow wiggle, he regrets asking.
“Wanna download some--”
“NO.”
8. destination: hell || sehun/chen || Hell!AU || ~700w
The last thing Jongdae saw before closing his eyes was the fast approaching surface of the river, after he lost control of his car on the slippery, icy asphalt of the bridge and swerving into the guardrail, breaking it.
The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a smartly dressed young man, with thick rimmed glasses, tablet and...is that a tail?!
“Welcome to Hell, sir. I’m Sehun, your guide.”
Jongdae blinks once, twice, at the stranger who introduced himself with a bored voice, then finally takes in his surroundings: red and brown hues fill the vast cave they’re standing in, with occasional flashes of light and flames coming from its depths, and screams heard faintly from far, far away.
“You’re Kim Jongdae, right?”
The addressed guy looks back at Sehun, who taps here and there on his tablet before staring back at Jongdae, expectantly.
“Yeah, yeah…” the newcomer confirms absentmindedly to focus on the real matter at hand. “This is hell? Really? It’s nothing like what I read of.”
Sehun’s tail starts swishing in irritation: he has better things to do than waste his time with damned souls who have a twisted idea of Hell (curse you, Dante Alighieri), the mere thought of explaining for the umpteenth time that that was just fiction almost causing him to break out in hives. Why can’t he have the surprised but resigned ones Minseok gets, or the excited ones in Baekhyun’s department? At least he doesn’t have to deal with the aggressive ones Chanyeol does, who put up a fight, verbal and physical, when they aren’t allowed to ‘speak to the manager’ to demand to be moved upstairs.
What made Kyungsoo from Human Resources think Sehun would be fit for the job?
(The young devil always conveniently forgets he once...that’s a tale for another time.)
He ignores Jongdae’s question and skips the Hell 101 lessons to hurry the hell up and lead him further inside. “If you may follow me…” he invites with a slight bow, an arm stretched towards the cave’s belly and tablet hugged to his chest with the other.
Jongdae doesn’t move of a millimeter, looking every bit unconvinced as he feels, no matter how serious and earnest Sehun looks, and how realistic his tail’s (with a spade shaped extremity) movements are. Once he realizes it would be too elaborate a prank against him, that it isn't a complicated sequence of Inception-like dreams, and that his incident might’ve really lead to his demise, the young man can’t help but crack a lame joke to postpone what appears to be inevitable.
“Oh, come on. I should be in heaven with a voice such as mine…”
“Tell that to your parents,” is Sehun’s snarky reply without missing a beat, having read Jongdae’s file just now, “who sold your soul before you were born so you’d sing well.”
Jongdae’s condescending smirk falls quickly, as his eyes risk to pop out of their sockets and his jaw to unhinge.
“They did whattt?!?!”
Mouth in a tight line to keep himself from laughing in the newcomer’s face, Sehun takes two long strides to stand by Jongdae’s side and links their arms together, all but pulling the shorter man towards the real location of Hell.
The closer to the core they get, the quicker Jongdae feels his clothes dry on himself. Fearing his mental imagery of flames up to an infinite ceiling and lava for flooring, he’s appalled to discover Hell is anything but what he read and what he had been told: what appeared as brief flashes in the distance turn out to be fireworks, fire eaters shows, and other pyrotechnics, as well as neon signs and blings even better than in Las Vegas; what could pass for tortured souls’ moans from where Jongdae and Sehun were initially standing, are actually screams of fun, delight and pleasure.
After staring in silence at the endless landscape that resembles for the most part an amusement park, Jongdae speaks up.
“I think I’m gonna like it here,” he announces, never taking his eyes off the place. Sehun snorts in an ‘of course’ fashion.
“Good.”
9. thief || amber/victoria || thieves!AU || ~400w
Amber is bored out of her mind: she’s surrounded by too many pretentious people, more concerned about showing off to fellow guests than interested in the exhibition that started two hours ago. To keep her hands busy while waiting for the main attraction of the evening to be brought in the main room, Amber alternates fiddling with the collar of her shirt and sipping her flûte of champagne, despite knowing she’s quite the lightweight when it comes to overpriced drinks and that she needs to be alert.
Across the room her partner, code name Victoria, looks stunning in a backless, silky black gown, with a thin golden chain that highlights her smooth back, catching lustful and envious looks from the attendees alike; Amber had a hard time not ogling at Victoria for the whole evening and acting as if they didn’t know each other.
The elder woman nods slightly at Amber, who raises her glass in greeting before louder chatter interrupt their silent conversation, signifying the arrival of today’s focus: a single ring sits on a white velvet cushion, a tiny gem with grey and mauve reflections mounted on it. It’s an extremely rare gem, and Victoria and Amber need to have it.
The tuxedo wearing woman jumps into action first, inconspicuously backing towards the ‘personnel only’ door she has been hanging around all this while and picked the lock of. She sneaks inside, heading straight for the generator she located earlier and ‘accidentally’ spilling champagne on the circuits, immediately causing the gallery to go dark and some guests to squeal nervously.
Amber slithers back in the gallery and speed-walks to the fire door without looking back, running to the car they parked in the thankfully deserted alley. She’s joined shortly after by a barefoot Victoria and, before she can even ask the older woman if she got the ring, a sparkle catches Amber’s eye: in the same hand she’s holding her strappy heels, Victoria is wearing the ring she just stole, that catches the single streetlight’s gleam.
“Book it,” Victoria urges with a satisfied smirk as she leans comfortably in the leather seat, admiring the exquisite jewel and basking in the thrilling experience.
“Yes Ma’am,” Amber nods with a matching grin, pumping that pedal and speeding into the night.
10. gradeschool crush || jb/jackson || kids!AU || ~600w
[I lost count of how many times I rewrote this, omfg. I started like 3 versions before scrapping them all and writing this all at once.]
“Jaebumie!”
A cry echoed through the school yard, all the way up to the third floor. Windows after windows got opened, curious heads poking outside to see what’s the ruckus about as puffs of air materialized in front of them a cold December morning. Eventually, one of the students got forcibly dragged to see what was going on with his own eyes, since he definitely was the boy called with such insistence.
The energetic transfer student, Jackson, has been determined to become Jaebum’s friend ever since their first meeting, about a year ago, when the korean boy was instructed to show the Hong Kong born around. They had a stilted but otherwise fun, English-sprinkled conversation, and everything was fine for the first few months, until Jackson, who was starting to have a better grasp of the korean language but not the formalities and age system, discovered he and Jaebum were born only two months apart. Jaebum made a complete 180 when Jackson stopped using honorifics with him, who’s in the grade above after all, and the combination of each boy’s stubbornness drove them apart -- no matter how many times Jaebum would correct him, Jackson would question the need to call him hyung, ultimately refusing to do so.
It truly was a pity, because Jackson liked Jaebum, envied but liked his height, enjoyed sharing similar interests such as attempting to imitate the breakdancers they saw on TV, during recess, behind the gym. What started as confusion towards such coldness and strictness became the tougher equivalent of pulling the pigtails of the girl you like, with annoying but harmless pranks, calling for him loudly in the busy hallways (without honorifics, of course), and initiating unwarranted rough housing, that once landed them in the principal’s office.
Undeterred to make the stern boy loosen up and feeling sorry for his own behavior, Jackson seized the chance to sneak outside during lunch break and use the snow-clad yard as huge canvas, stomping and dragging his feet to create words and crude drawings. Once he was finally done, face all red for exertion and biting cold, the chinese boy took a deep breath to replenish his lungs (regretting doing so, because the icy air made his throat burn) and shouted his frenemy’s name, catching the attention of almost the whole student and teacher body in the process. It was almost the same everyday, really, oftentimes more than once a day during breaks: Jackson would call for his senior Jaebum, only to be coldly ignored by said boy, but this grand gesture is a first.
“What?!” a voice finally replied. From the second floor, a frowning Jaebum glared at Jackson as he struggled to decipher what was written on the snow, sun reflecting on the white surface and making it harder to see. Slowly, and with some aid from both a friend nearby and the screaming Jackson downstairs, the korean boy could kind of make out the words ‘sorry hyung’ and ‘friends?’
Hoping the nuisance he considered a friend could see him, Jaebum rolled his eyes unabashedly, exaggerating the gesture, but he turned to look down at Jackson with a small, amused smile.
“You’re an idiot!”
“I know!” Jackson agreed. “But can I avoid calling you hyung?” he begged, throwing puppy eyes up up up to his crush’s (!!!) classroom.
(He can’t even say ‘ewww cooties’ because boys don’t have cooties, right?)
Jaebum sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration in his exhale. Finally, he conceded, “Just this once!”
Jackson’s hopeful expression fell halfway. “Aww, come on! But I like you, Jaebum-ah!”
The other boy’s words alone made Jaebum blush, but his classmates’ snickers made it worse.
“You wasted your chance!” he hollered back in an useless attempt at disguising his embarrassment before stomping out of the room. Outside, Jackson couldn’t stop smiling at his hyung’s reaction, and laughed when some students clapped and wolf-whistled.
11. time is running out || yongguk/himchan || office!AU || ~400w
“Remind me again how did we get here?”
“Don’t even try to put the blame on me. Who wanted to absolutely show me the spankin’ new copier we would get with the new year?”
“And you believed me?”
Yongguk sighs as he resumes his fruitless attempts at forcing the supply closet door open after Himchan, the chatty Customer Service representative, convinced the slightly awkward Chief Accountant to follow him there with an excuse. Himchan’s intention was to get some privacy before the countdown and the fireworks show, which they have a good view to thanks to elevated position of the office; what the representative couldn’t foresee was, after a steamy make out session between an archive cabinet and an outdated calendar, for the closet handle to fall into pieces, half in Yongguk’s hand and half in the hallway.
The party is in full swing, people forgoing office etiquette and pretenses in favor of drinks and bets to properly celebrate the new year. Others had the same idea as Himchan to end the year with a bang, sneaking to the toilets or some empty office and giving the security guys quite the show through cctv.
Nobody can hear the two of them shouting for help.
It’s almost time for the final countdown. Hollers of “Gather round, gather round!” run through the whole office, followed by loud, inebriated chatters passing nearby the supply closet the two hornballs are still locked in, unheard and ignored. Before long, the director’s booming voice starts slurring the last ten seconds of 2015, and a breathtaking fireworks show signals the beginning of, hopefully, an equally bright new year.
“Do you think it’d be a bad omen if we gave the cleaning lady a heart attack on the first day of the year?” Yongguk wonders aloud, resigned to the fact the damn handle won’t magically repair itself and they’ll be stuck in there until morning, at least.
“Something tells me she’ll more preoccupied with the sorry state the place will be after the party; the discovery of two adults in a closet will most likely leave her unfazed.”
The accountant looks down at Himchan, who made himself comfortable resting his head on Yongguk’s lap and replied as if he knew the cleaning lady was used to worse things.
(She probably was.)
12. police station || suga/v || "Run"!AU || ~500w
Three well dealt kicks against the bars of the cramped cell he has been locked in for the past few hours cause enough noise and quakes of the hanging steel bed to snap Taehyung awake from his nap. He lazily turns his head to see who needed his attention so badly to the point of almost knocking the door down, coming face to face with his mint haired older friend, Yoongi.
“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaims, hopping off the bed with much more cheerfulness than someone who is kept in detention should feel and show. He covers the short distance from the jail door with a leap and grabs the bars, pushing his face against them as if trying to weasel his way out like that, only to earn a hard shove from Yoongi that scrunches his nose almost painfully.
“Idiot,” is the first word Yoongi utters, with a mischievous lilt to his otherwise flat tone, after removing the lollipop he was sucking. Taehyung is used to the older boy’s brusque personality; he was actually expecting more colorful remarks, because the brunet really can’t deny he has been an idiot for being caught spraying graffiti in some back alley late at night. Running away and making fun of the policemen hot on his heels turned out to be pointless, his grimaces and rude gestures playing against him as he was manhandled against the police car to be handcuffed.
“Get your shit, I’m taking you out of here,” Yoongi orders dismissively without looking at his friend, rather shooting a half flirtatious, half challenging grin to the guard standing at the far end of the corridor, by the door.
“Did you really bail me out?” Taehyung exclaims with big shiny eyes and a wide, rectangular grin. He fetches his jacket, that he used as pillow because the flimsy excuse of fabric on the bedding did nothing to protect from the knobby frame and he’d rather not poke his eye out with a stray wire.
“The guys pitched in,” Yoongi reveals, while the guard that escorted him there fiddles with the cell keys, eventually finding the right one. “You owe us a fuckton of beer to make up for it,” he adds with a meaningful lift of his eyebrow, before jerking his head in the general direction of the exit and turning to leave.
“Hyung!”
From the adjacent cell, Namjoon finally speaks up, looking expectantly at the older guy, arms hanging between the bars, beanie askew and a slight crease on his cheek from sleeping on his parka.
“Sorry, Namjoon, we ran out of cash,” Yoongi confesses, neither looking nor sounding fully sorry, “We’ll pawn something and come back to bail you out tomorrow. Here, have this.”
Yoongi has an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, so the trajectory of what he throws is a bit off: it clinks against one of the cells, bouncing just out of reach of the tall boy.
“Hyung~” Namjoon whines with his deep voice, looking pitifully between the leaving duo and Yoongi’s spare lollipop on the floor.
Fandoms: (in this part) Super Junior,EXO,f(x),GOT7,BAP,BTS
Pairings: Donghae/Henry, Sehun/Chen, Amber/Victoria, JB/Jackson, Yongguk/Himchan, Suga/V
Rating: overall PG13
A/N: so,i'm hella late with posting. I couldn't write anything the second week of december, and i'm now hurriedly catching up but changing idea everytime i reread were i left off with the handful of drabbles i did start, rewriting them from scratch ^^;;
❆masterpost
7. sketchy video titles || donghae/henry || (maybe AU) || ~500w
The last kernel has popped in the microwave when Donghae’s doorbell rings. The man goes to the door, getting a faceful of Henry in the tiny peeping hole, his grin widened comically by the fish eye effect of the lenses. Donghae unbolts the door and lets the younger guy in, waiting for Henry to take his shoes off.
“About time you arrived. You didn’t even answer my text, where have you been?” the elder complains. “And how did you get in?” he suddenly asks, because he certainly didn’t buzz the pest in.
“A pretty lady was leaving the building as I approached and I chatted her up. Sorry, I didn’t notice the time flying,” Henry explains with a nonchalant shrug as they head to the living room, and a smug smile at the memory of the girl’s flustered face (nevermind that she was more freaked out than interested in him).
Donghae sighs. He heads back in the kitchen, throwing a, “Set things up while I take the food,” over his shoulder.
Henry salutes him and shouts yessir! before taking his laptop out of his messenger bag and places it on the floor by the large TV, fumbling with the cable to connect the devices and have a better screen for the films especially pirated legally downloaded for the occasion.
Donghae enters the room as Henry’s movies folder loads on his flat screen, a six-pack in a hand, a bowl of fresh popcorns in the other, and a bag of flavored chips held lightly but firmly under each arm. He miraculously doesn’t spill nor break anything, since his attention is focused more on the titles of the films Henry collected than on setting the munchies on the coffee table opposite the couch.
“Fast & Furious 69? I mean, the saga is getting long, but I don’t think they got that many episodes…
“Indiana Jones and the broken rubber? Really, now.
“The lord of the cockrings?! Seriously, what kind of movies did you download?” Donghae explodes, sounding almost offended. Why did he even hope for a typical, ‘boring’ movie night when he invited Henry, of all people?
“Nothing tickles your fancy?” Henry asks, apparently oblivious to the elder’s slight discomfort. “Wanna change genre, maybe some horror?”
“No thank you, “ Donghae refuses firmly, “I don’t stomach the real deal well enough, I’d probably be scarred for life by these renditions, if the previous titles are enough indication of what kind of films you really brought.” He shivers in barely contained disgust, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth to distract himself.
“When all else fails, let’s go with some good ol’ Disney: Peenocchio, Cinderbella, 7 dwarves for Snow White…” Henry lists off, but is quickly shut down.
“No, nopity, nope. Fuck’s sake, don’t ruin the classics.”
Henry harrumph. “Ugh, so picky.” He goes further down the folder, eventually spotting a sure winner.
“Hey, I got your favorite! Titanic!”
“Something tells me it’s not the real one,” Donghae bites back, eyeing suspiciously between Henry’s face and his blasted list of questionable movies. “Where did you even get them from?”
At Henry’s suggestive eyebrow wiggle, he regrets asking.
“Wanna download some--”
“NO.”
8. destination: hell || sehun/chen || Hell!AU || ~700w
The last thing Jongdae saw before closing his eyes was the fast approaching surface of the river, after he lost control of his car on the slippery, icy asphalt of the bridge and swerving into the guardrail, breaking it.
The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a smartly dressed young man, with thick rimmed glasses, tablet and...is that a tail?!
“Welcome to Hell, sir. I’m Sehun, your guide.”
Jongdae blinks once, twice, at the stranger who introduced himself with a bored voice, then finally takes in his surroundings: red and brown hues fill the vast cave they’re standing in, with occasional flashes of light and flames coming from its depths, and screams heard faintly from far, far away.
“You’re Kim Jongdae, right?”
The addressed guy looks back at Sehun, who taps here and there on his tablet before staring back at Jongdae, expectantly.
“Yeah, yeah…” the newcomer confirms absentmindedly to focus on the real matter at hand. “This is hell? Really? It’s nothing like what I read of.”
Sehun’s tail starts swishing in irritation: he has better things to do than waste his time with damned souls who have a twisted idea of Hell (curse you, Dante Alighieri), the mere thought of explaining for the umpteenth time that that was just fiction almost causing him to break out in hives. Why can’t he have the surprised but resigned ones Minseok gets, or the excited ones in Baekhyun’s department? At least he doesn’t have to deal with the aggressive ones Chanyeol does, who put up a fight, verbal and physical, when they aren’t allowed to ‘speak to the manager’ to demand to be moved upstairs.
What made Kyungsoo from Human Resources think Sehun would be fit for the job?
(The young devil always conveniently forgets he once...that’s a tale for another time.)
He ignores Jongdae’s question and skips the Hell 101 lessons to hurry the hell up and lead him further inside. “If you may follow me…” he invites with a slight bow, an arm stretched towards the cave’s belly and tablet hugged to his chest with the other.
Jongdae doesn’t move of a millimeter, looking every bit unconvinced as he feels, no matter how serious and earnest Sehun looks, and how realistic his tail’s (with a spade shaped extremity) movements are. Once he realizes it would be too elaborate a prank against him, that it isn't a complicated sequence of Inception-like dreams, and that his incident might’ve really lead to his demise, the young man can’t help but crack a lame joke to postpone what appears to be inevitable.
“Oh, come on. I should be in heaven with a voice such as mine…”
“Tell that to your parents,” is Sehun’s snarky reply without missing a beat, having read Jongdae’s file just now, “who sold your soul before you were born so you’d sing well.”
Jongdae’s condescending smirk falls quickly, as his eyes risk to pop out of their sockets and his jaw to unhinge.
“They did whattt?!?!”
Mouth in a tight line to keep himself from laughing in the newcomer’s face, Sehun takes two long strides to stand by Jongdae’s side and links their arms together, all but pulling the shorter man towards the real location of Hell.
The closer to the core they get, the quicker Jongdae feels his clothes dry on himself. Fearing his mental imagery of flames up to an infinite ceiling and lava for flooring, he’s appalled to discover Hell is anything but what he read and what he had been told: what appeared as brief flashes in the distance turn out to be fireworks, fire eaters shows, and other pyrotechnics, as well as neon signs and blings even better than in Las Vegas; what could pass for tortured souls’ moans from where Jongdae and Sehun were initially standing, are actually screams of fun, delight and pleasure.
After staring in silence at the endless landscape that resembles for the most part an amusement park, Jongdae speaks up.
“I think I’m gonna like it here,” he announces, never taking his eyes off the place. Sehun snorts in an ‘of course’ fashion.
“Good.”
9. thief || amber/victoria || thieves!AU || ~400w
Amber is bored out of her mind: she’s surrounded by too many pretentious people, more concerned about showing off to fellow guests than interested in the exhibition that started two hours ago. To keep her hands busy while waiting for the main attraction of the evening to be brought in the main room, Amber alternates fiddling with the collar of her shirt and sipping her flûte of champagne, despite knowing she’s quite the lightweight when it comes to overpriced drinks and that she needs to be alert.
Across the room her partner, code name Victoria, looks stunning in a backless, silky black gown, with a thin golden chain that highlights her smooth back, catching lustful and envious looks from the attendees alike; Amber had a hard time not ogling at Victoria for the whole evening and acting as if they didn’t know each other.
The elder woman nods slightly at Amber, who raises her glass in greeting before louder chatter interrupt their silent conversation, signifying the arrival of today’s focus: a single ring sits on a white velvet cushion, a tiny gem with grey and mauve reflections mounted on it. It’s an extremely rare gem, and Victoria and Amber need to have it.
The tuxedo wearing woman jumps into action first, inconspicuously backing towards the ‘personnel only’ door she has been hanging around all this while and picked the lock of. She sneaks inside, heading straight for the generator she located earlier and ‘accidentally’ spilling champagne on the circuits, immediately causing the gallery to go dark and some guests to squeal nervously.
Amber slithers back in the gallery and speed-walks to the fire door without looking back, running to the car they parked in the thankfully deserted alley. She’s joined shortly after by a barefoot Victoria and, before she can even ask the older woman if she got the ring, a sparkle catches Amber’s eye: in the same hand she’s holding her strappy heels, Victoria is wearing the ring she just stole, that catches the single streetlight’s gleam.
“Book it,” Victoria urges with a satisfied smirk as she leans comfortably in the leather seat, admiring the exquisite jewel and basking in the thrilling experience.
“Yes Ma’am,” Amber nods with a matching grin, pumping that pedal and speeding into the night.
10. gradeschool crush || jb/jackson || kids!AU || ~600w
[I lost count of how many times I rewrote this, omfg. I started like 3 versions before scrapping them all and writing this all at once.]
“Jaebumie!”
A cry echoed through the school yard, all the way up to the third floor. Windows after windows got opened, curious heads poking outside to see what’s the ruckus about as puffs of air materialized in front of them a cold December morning. Eventually, one of the students got forcibly dragged to see what was going on with his own eyes, since he definitely was the boy called with such insistence.
The energetic transfer student, Jackson, has been determined to become Jaebum’s friend ever since their first meeting, about a year ago, when the korean boy was instructed to show the Hong Kong born around. They had a stilted but otherwise fun, English-sprinkled conversation, and everything was fine for the first few months, until Jackson, who was starting to have a better grasp of the korean language but not the formalities and age system, discovered he and Jaebum were born only two months apart. Jaebum made a complete 180 when Jackson stopped using honorifics with him, who’s in the grade above after all, and the combination of each boy’s stubbornness drove them apart -- no matter how many times Jaebum would correct him, Jackson would question the need to call him hyung, ultimately refusing to do so.
It truly was a pity, because Jackson liked Jaebum, envied but liked his height, enjoyed sharing similar interests such as attempting to imitate the breakdancers they saw on TV, during recess, behind the gym. What started as confusion towards such coldness and strictness became the tougher equivalent of pulling the pigtails of the girl you like, with annoying but harmless pranks, calling for him loudly in the busy hallways (without honorifics, of course), and initiating unwarranted rough housing, that once landed them in the principal’s office.
Undeterred to make the stern boy loosen up and feeling sorry for his own behavior, Jackson seized the chance to sneak outside during lunch break and use the snow-clad yard as huge canvas, stomping and dragging his feet to create words and crude drawings. Once he was finally done, face all red for exertion and biting cold, the chinese boy took a deep breath to replenish his lungs (regretting doing so, because the icy air made his throat burn) and shouted his frenemy’s name, catching the attention of almost the whole student and teacher body in the process. It was almost the same everyday, really, oftentimes more than once a day during breaks: Jackson would call for his senior Jaebum, only to be coldly ignored by said boy, but this grand gesture is a first.
“What?!” a voice finally replied. From the second floor, a frowning Jaebum glared at Jackson as he struggled to decipher what was written on the snow, sun reflecting on the white surface and making it harder to see. Slowly, and with some aid from both a friend nearby and the screaming Jackson downstairs, the korean boy could kind of make out the words ‘sorry hyung’ and ‘friends?’
Hoping the nuisance he considered a friend could see him, Jaebum rolled his eyes unabashedly, exaggerating the gesture, but he turned to look down at Jackson with a small, amused smile.
“You’re an idiot!”
“I know!” Jackson agreed. “But can I avoid calling you hyung?” he begged, throwing puppy eyes up up up to his crush’s (!!!) classroom.
(He can’t even say ‘ewww cooties’ because boys don’t have cooties, right?)
Jaebum sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration in his exhale. Finally, he conceded, “Just this once!”
Jackson’s hopeful expression fell halfway. “Aww, come on! But I like you, Jaebum-ah!”
The other boy’s words alone made Jaebum blush, but his classmates’ snickers made it worse.
“You wasted your chance!” he hollered back in an useless attempt at disguising his embarrassment before stomping out of the room. Outside, Jackson couldn’t stop smiling at his hyung’s reaction, and laughed when some students clapped and wolf-whistled.
11. time is running out || yongguk/himchan || office!AU || ~400w
“Remind me again how did we get here?”
“Don’t even try to put the blame on me. Who wanted to absolutely show me the spankin’ new copier we would get with the new year?”
“And you believed me?”
Yongguk sighs as he resumes his fruitless attempts at forcing the supply closet door open after Himchan, the chatty Customer Service representative, convinced the slightly awkward Chief Accountant to follow him there with an excuse. Himchan’s intention was to get some privacy before the countdown and the fireworks show, which they have a good view to thanks to elevated position of the office; what the representative couldn’t foresee was, after a steamy make out session between an archive cabinet and an outdated calendar, for the closet handle to fall into pieces, half in Yongguk’s hand and half in the hallway.
The party is in full swing, people forgoing office etiquette and pretenses in favor of drinks and bets to properly celebrate the new year. Others had the same idea as Himchan to end the year with a bang, sneaking to the toilets or some empty office and giving the security guys quite the show through cctv.
Nobody can hear the two of them shouting for help.
It’s almost time for the final countdown. Hollers of “Gather round, gather round!” run through the whole office, followed by loud, inebriated chatters passing nearby the supply closet the two hornballs are still locked in, unheard and ignored. Before long, the director’s booming voice starts slurring the last ten seconds of 2015, and a breathtaking fireworks show signals the beginning of, hopefully, an equally bright new year.
“Do you think it’d be a bad omen if we gave the cleaning lady a heart attack on the first day of the year?” Yongguk wonders aloud, resigned to the fact the damn handle won’t magically repair itself and they’ll be stuck in there until morning, at least.
“Something tells me she’ll more preoccupied with the sorry state the place will be after the party; the discovery of two adults in a closet will most likely leave her unfazed.”
The accountant looks down at Himchan, who made himself comfortable resting his head on Yongguk’s lap and replied as if he knew the cleaning lady was used to worse things.
(She probably was.)
12. police station || suga/v || "Run"!AU || ~500w
Three well dealt kicks against the bars of the cramped cell he has been locked in for the past few hours cause enough noise and quakes of the hanging steel bed to snap Taehyung awake from his nap. He lazily turns his head to see who needed his attention so badly to the point of almost knocking the door down, coming face to face with his mint haired older friend, Yoongi.
“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaims, hopping off the bed with much more cheerfulness than someone who is kept in detention should feel and show. He covers the short distance from the jail door with a leap and grabs the bars, pushing his face against them as if trying to weasel his way out like that, only to earn a hard shove from Yoongi that scrunches his nose almost painfully.
“Idiot,” is the first word Yoongi utters, with a mischievous lilt to his otherwise flat tone, after removing the lollipop he was sucking. Taehyung is used to the older boy’s brusque personality; he was actually expecting more colorful remarks, because the brunet really can’t deny he has been an idiot for being caught spraying graffiti in some back alley late at night. Running away and making fun of the policemen hot on his heels turned out to be pointless, his grimaces and rude gestures playing against him as he was manhandled against the police car to be handcuffed.
“Get your shit, I’m taking you out of here,” Yoongi orders dismissively without looking at his friend, rather shooting a half flirtatious, half challenging grin to the guard standing at the far end of the corridor, by the door.
“Did you really bail me out?” Taehyung exclaims with big shiny eyes and a wide, rectangular grin. He fetches his jacket, that he used as pillow because the flimsy excuse of fabric on the bedding did nothing to protect from the knobby frame and he’d rather not poke his eye out with a stray wire.
“The guys pitched in,” Yoongi reveals, while the guard that escorted him there fiddles with the cell keys, eventually finding the right one. “You owe us a fuckton of beer to make up for it,” he adds with a meaningful lift of his eyebrow, before jerking his head in the general direction of the exit and turning to leave.
“Hyung!”
From the adjacent cell, Namjoon finally speaks up, looking expectantly at the older guy, arms hanging between the bars, beanie askew and a slight crease on his cheek from sleeping on his parka.
“Sorry, Namjoon, we ran out of cash,” Yoongi confesses, neither looking nor sounding fully sorry, “We’ll pawn something and come back to bail you out tomorrow. Here, have this.”
Yoongi has an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, so the trajectory of what he throws is a bit off: it clinks against one of the cells, bouncing just out of reach of the tall boy.
“Hyung~” Namjoon whines with his deep voice, looking pitifully between the leaving duo and Yoongi’s spare lollipop on the floor.