その意味を教えてよ。
☆ Another drabble dump about the stuff I’ve written and scattered in different SNS! Oh, I’m still on hiatus despite it being Christmas break so…… Anyway………
第一部 :: counting numbers with you。
The following drabbles were written for this meme. These were written at a time when my attitude towards writing wasn’t that good yet. But, I’m working to have a happy disposition towards writing.
∞ #27; Here, With You。
→ EXO: Suho/Tao; Comfort; PG; 462 words
☆ written for Keira ♡
Despite the exhaustion, sleep refuses to seep into your nerves. You wonder whether your blood is too bland to entice it, too insipid to dissolve it and let it flow in your veins. Either that or your mind is filled with thoughts running amok, too loud inside your head that you can’t hush them despite the intermittent snoring of the members and the occasional honks of the wayward cars in the quiet streets of Changsha. And despite all that noise, there is but one thought that resonates so strongly that you can hear it being whispered at the shell of your ear.
(I am at a place where I do not wish to be.)
“Hyung,” a raspy voice snaps you out of your reverie. You turn around to recognize his presence, and give him a smile, albeit weakly, making him remove his hand from rubbing his eyes. “Why are you up so early?” he asks, voice still droned by drowsiness.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you answer as you stretch out to cradle his head unto your shoulder. He scoots closer, and settles his head comfortably before reaching for your hand, entwining your fingers between his, lightly tapping the back of your hand with his forefinger.
He hums, “You’re thinking too much again, hyung.”
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, apology diluted by a lowly sigh as you gaze longingly at the horizon. The purple is being tinged by a looming shade of orange, like blood spreading slowly into a clean fabric.
“How do you find, Changsha, hyung?”
“Pretty much the same as the times we’ve been here,” you answer him, leaning your head towards his and delighting in the softness of his ruffled hair.
“I mean, how do you find it now?”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat the words, and his grip on your hand tightens. “Pretty much the same as Seoul; the sky is starless,” and I am filled with the empty feeling of sadness you’d like to add, but you choose to bite your tongue than to utter such words.
“Junmian ge,” he pronounces your name using the Chinese accent. You can’t reprimand him; he’s in his territory after all. “Perhaps if you’d stop staring and yearning for the stars in the sky, you’ll find that there are lanterns glowing near you.”
And before you can even retort, his breath steadies, you can feel it through the thin fabric of your shirt. Thus you smile, because his light glows steadily, warmly, and you know that he’s glowing at this moment for you, and that you can hold him so fondly like this.
Closing your eyes, you listen to the melodies of his breath, softly, lulling you to sleep when the orange splash in the starless sky attenuates to a pale shade of blue.
∞ #82; Can You Hear Me?
→ EXO: Kai/Luhan; Romance; PG; 439 words
☆ written for BakaYuki ♡
If love is the air that they breathe, then poetry is the blood that carries this love-filled oxygen through all parts of their body, making them functional, fully alive.
For Luhan, he writes poems through his lips. With every note he reaches, honeyed words flow out, extracted from the stellar sources, unseen by the naked eyes.
For Jongin, he writes poems with his body. Music brings out the poet in him; every flick of the wrist and turn of the heel is a stanza of a poem embedded in a cosmos of tangled thoughts.
For these two poets, whose forms of expression clash, a rain on an unlikely afternoon, molds them into a harmonious performance of song and dance.
If Luhan’s class didn’t end five minutes later after the bell rang, and if Jongin didn’t forget his umbrella that morning, then they wouldn’t have met.
It is said that horrible singing is an incantation for the rain, but Luhan believes that it’s a wonderful accompaniment to the lyrics in his head, albeit with the rhythm messed up, but still, pleasant to his ears. And besides, he is blessed with excellent ears for music, and so he sings, confidently as the rain taps on his umbrella, accenting his songs with every splash on the shiny concrete path that he trudges on. He momentarily stops when his eyes captures the scene of a young lad, skin kissed by the sun that Luhan freezes to ponder whether he’s imagining things before him.
Every stretch of his arms disperses rainbows out of the raindrops that touch his skin. Every curl of his slender fingers is a fluid movement to capture the raindrops that fall. Every stomp of his feet on the ground sends sparkles to his performance. Luhan finds his grip on the umbrella tighten. Why is there a boy dancing in the rain at a time like this? Why does he suddenly want to throw his umbrella away and sing his heart out without a care in the world? When was the last time he did such a thing?
The boy smirks before him, as if urging him to continue with his song, as if he had heard him before Luhan got a sight of him.
(“Why were you dancing in the rain?” Luhan asks, gazing at the droplets that sliver down the tanned boy defined jawline.
Ruffling his wet hair with a towel, the boy answers him, “The rain was calling for me. I didn’t want to do it at first; people would think I’m crazy. But then, I heard your song, and before I could prevent myself, I’m already drenched.”)
∞ #04; Thunderstorms in My Heart。
→ EXO: Chen/Lay; Fluff; G; 181 words
☆ written for Weixin ♡
A loud boom sears through the sudden darkness, and a flash of light takes away the hundreds of light that illuminated the buildings in the city before it. Somewhere in one of the tall buildings of Seoul, in one of the now-quiet rooms of a dormitory, two boys find comfort in each other’s arms. One boy is shivering in fear, while the other can’t control his chuckling over the other’s misery.
“Too much for being the one who ‘controls’ lightning and thunder,” the boy who was chuckling earlier says, pronouncing the words in Korean with such care and effort.
“Shut up, ge,” the other lad retorts, softly punching the former’s arms. “Why are they taking too long to set up the generator? It’s too dark.”
The first boy’s laughter rings through the darkness, and somehow, it soothes the second boy’s heart. The breathiness of his amusement is a song to the younger boy’s ears, and so he snuggles closer to the fabric of the older boy’s sweater.
“Don’t worry, my dear Pikachen. I’ll be your Ash Yixing until the storm ends.”
∞ #74; Petty Argument。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Fluff; PG-13; 639 words
☆ written for Abbeybby ♡
Upon entering the studio, Yifan accidentally bumps into Junmyeon, who almost stumbles to the floor if not for Yifan’s quick reflexes, hand cushioning the redhead’s waist. “Sorry. Are you alright?”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” Junmyeon replies as he forcefully pushes Yifan’s arm off of him. There is a tinge of pink on his cheeks, and Yifan all but feels more triumphant at Junmyeon’s failed attempt at feigning his flustered state with that indifferent face.
“Why are you blushing?” the tall blond asks, with a grin so wide that his gums are showing, with such courage to test the waters on Junmyeon’s uncontended surface whether a single disturbance might cause endless ripples upon it.
“I am not!” the redhead almost shouts; the color his cheeks are starting to bloom in a shade similar to his hair. “If you are that proud of your sex appeal, Wu,” Junmyeon places a lot of effort into snarling his surname before continuing, “and that you deem yourself to be that sexually active, then why don’t you just venture into the porn industry?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down little tiger,” Yifan says as he ruffles Junmyeon’s hair, following him still when the shorter male tries to get away, grabbing a bundle of papers on the nearest desk and pretending to be studying them. “I don’t want to,” he pouts, positioning himself beside Junmyeon, leaning so dangerously close that his lips are brushing against the latter’s ear. “If I do that, then people won’t be interested in me anymore,” he smirks when the smaller male tries not to shiver.
Junmyeon rolls his eyes and sets the papers back on the desk. Turning around, tilting his head up such that their eyes meet, he tells the blond model using his most irked accent, “You only live because of your beauty and vanity, don’t you?”
Of course, that is not enough to subdue a determined Yifan. “Oh, is that it, Kim Junmyeon? I didn’t know you find me ‘beautiful,” he retorts, uttering the last word with a playful tone.
The unexpected statement was a slap to Junmyeon’s face. Embarrassment rushes to his cheeks, and Junmyeon is left with no choice but to retreat, stomping his way towards the door.
“Why so flustered, Junmyeon-sshi? Am I really that ‘beautiful’?” Yifan presses teasingly, making Junmyeon feel more annoyed when he runs his fingers through his blond hair.
“Does it matter anyway though? You get complimented every day,” Junmyeon answers as he grabs the knob, pausing to take a deep breath before turning it.
Unfortunately for him, the model uses that timely pause to counter him. “Not every day by you, though.” And it’s all that it takes for Junmyeon to freeze on the spot. Yifan hums, all too merrily. “Ah, so now you’re complimenting me. Does this mean you like me as well?”
“Wu Yifan-sshi,” Junmyeon inhales, he knows the resolve in his voice is faltering with every single time his heart bumps into his chest bone. “It doesn’t really matter if I affirm your ego by saying ‘Yes, you are hot. You are sexy. And, you are beautiful’.” Even without looking directly at him, Junmyeon can only imagine the cocky grin on Yifan’s face growing larger with every word he pronounces. “But you are still very much a bastard for me to even begin to like you,” he blurts out before turning the knob hastily, walking out of the studio and slamming the door shut upon his exit.
Yifan smiles victoriously, almost flashing all of his pearly white teeth that if anybody would see him right now, they would say that he’s like a mad clown. A few seconds after, he surrenders to a fit of giggles because he’s so happy, too happy to know that he just managed to win an argument with the boy of his affections.
☆☆☆☆☆
☆The following were written for Francine as an impromptu birthday present. Originally posted here.
∞ #10;Drowning
→ Pairing Undefined; Second Person POV; Angst; 463 words
You plug your earphones in place, hoping to drown away the emptiness that’s starting to envelop you. You hate being left alone, especially at a time like this, when the pain is as fresh as the faint smell of iron from blood that seeps out of his wounds. And speaking of which, you remember the band-aid on your knee, a tiny piece meant to cover up the consequence of your carelessness and perhaps, protect you from making things worse. Upon pulling on the fabric of your jeans to check it out, you see that it is tainted. Again. Sighing, you strip it off, wincing and hissing when the cool air stings the moist surface.
Ironic, how pain can still reign despite the several methods of treatment you’ve done upon the wounds.
Ironic, how everything seems to go on, move on so fast, when you just want to stop for a while and take a breath, take a chance to let the blood dry and your flesh rehabilitate. But that’s how life is, right? A mere boy like you can’t stop the entire planet from rotating, because every second means four meters farther away from That Person, even with just him standing in the same place. The distance grows, the air becomes more frigid that it makes you curl into a ball, hugging your knees, the pain on your wound now gone numb.
Sometimes, you wish that sleep would come to you immediately, so that it would take you far, far away towards uncharted worlds. Because reality, right now, is too much for you to handle. You needed to breathe, to take off all worries and be freed from the air filled with pressure and loneliness that suffocates you.
Sometimes, you wish he was here to save you from drowning. But sometimes, you see him drowning too. And sometimes, you wish you could be by his side, talk about anything and everything, just like the old times, those times when you were just sitting by the beach admiring how the sea consumes the orange orb falling slowly from the sky, times before he decided to challenge the waves that are bigger than him, claiming he knows how to swim (claiming he knows that you’ll save him regardless).
And the sea has proven that it is larger than him, and you have proven to him that you’ll save him no matter what. But then, the wound on your knee tells of a different story, a tale filled with the saltiness of the sea and then the metallic taste of blood on your lips. The wind around you is cold, but the distance between you and him, the exchange for his freedom, is colder.
(And you need him by your side to help keep you warm.)
∞ #60; Rejection
→ Pairing Undefined; Second Person POV; Angst?; 100 words
Pushing your fingers to the soil, you ignore the texture of the particles grazing the skin beneath your nails. It’s fine, you whisper as tears fall from your eyes down to the spot you covered. At least, these tears will let the seed grow and become somebody’s tree, where its branches shall provide shade for him, away from the blazing afternoon sun; or perhaps a shelter when the clouds can’t stay quiet any longer.
It’s fine, you repeat. The tears are borne of the bitter reality (of hopeful wishes unreturned), but the truth of your love shall nourish this seed.
∞ #72; Mischief Managed
→ EXO: Kris/Suho featuring Sehun and Zitao as their kids; Third Person POV; AU; 117 words
It was a bad idea buying Sehun and Zitao fake wands. And fake Invisibility Cloaks. And a fake Marauder’s Map. Because it took Junmyeon and Yifan an hour to get them to bed, with the two trouble makers whooshing past them muttering spells they memorized off the pages of the world-famous novel. Who knew these kids who didn’t seem interested in anything would be so invested in a fantasy world?
“Whose fault is it?” Junmyeon glares at Yifan while tucking Sehun under the covers.
“It’s your money!” Yifan answers, dashing out of the kids’ bedroom, away from a raging Junmyeon, who may have grabbed Zitao’s fake Firebolt.
“Mischief managed,” both kids whisper triumphantly before drifting to sleep.
∞ #80; Words
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Third Person POV; Angst; 100 words
If only quarter notes were syllables and Junmyeon had the ability to speak, then he could recite songs of love to the man whose hair has been kissed by the sun, slender fingers dancing through ivory and ebony keys like the entire set was a dance floor and the song that both of them are playing is the music that his fingers are frolicking to.
If only Yifan knows, that when he lifts his fingers off a key for every eighth rest, Junmyeon’s breath stills. But he would never know, because he never listens to the silence that Junmyeon speaks.
∞ #82; Can You Hear Me?
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Third Person POV; Drama?; 153 words
People wear masks everyday. Masks to help them face the world with people wearing different kinds of masks. Perhaps, the Voice is another Mask, Junmyeon supposes, as he listens to the honeyed voice of the people giving compliments to Yifan and his performance for tonight. How saccharine their words are, adorned with the pleasant lilt in their tones.
He doesn’t need to tell Yifan later on, how the lady in red has a tongue as sharp as a sword, or how her husband’s throat has grown accustomed to the patterns of deception, because Yifan knows, and wants nothing of their praises nor of anybody else’s.
What Yifan wants is the silence of being understood, when he himself has taken his own mask off and gazes at him, eyes dulled by the expectations of the world, and Junmyeon is the only one who can take the final mask off and send him aglow again.
第二部 :: hold me tight (and never let go)。
☆ just some random drabbles filed here for safekeeping
∞ morning routine (for a breakfast date)。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Fluff; PG; 345 words written out of whim/word vomit
☆originally posted here.
Wu Yifan is never a morning person. when the sun’s rays finally escape the thin line of the ever-quiet horizon in the drowsy dawn, his head is buried under the thick comfort of his blanket. The sun’s beams filter softly through his curtains, landing on Yifan’s uncovered foot with a sizzle, causing the brunet to curl into a ball in order to avoid the call of reality. So when Kim Junmyeon bangs on his door before his alarm clock could even join the melodious chirping of the birds on his windowsill, he rolls himself to the edge of his bed, landing on the floor with a thud and an almost-awake state, groaning in frustration of being pulled away from his dreams and pushed into Cruel Reality. When he opens the door, he is greeted by an always joyous Kim Junmyeon, who smiles more radiantly than the morning sun that his vision narrows into slits as a sort of automatic defense mechanism.
"Yifan, you promised me a breakfast date!" the petite male pouts, pulling himself up and standing on his toes as he reaches up to fix Yifan’s messy hair, placing a casual kiss on the brunet’s dry lips.
"Sorry, Junmyeon-ah. You beat my alarm clock in waking me up!" Yifan tells him with his usual ‘I just woke up so my throat is quite dry’ hoarse voice.
"That’s because you forgot to set it up, you dork.”
“Hey, don’t call me that!” Yifan grumbles as he pull Junmyeon into an embrace, placing his chin on the shorter male’s head and pretending to snooze just as that.
“If Snow White had giants instead of dwarves, you’d be Grumpy,” Junmyeon remarks as he slides out of the taller male’s arms and stands behind him. “Now go take a bath, Wu Grumpy.”
“But my dear Kim Snow White, Wu Grumpy will always be your favorite giant-dwarf, right?”
“Sheeeesh.”
Yifan decides, even when he is not a morning person, he wouldn’t mind waking up by a troublesome Junmyeon who whines about breakfast dates if every day were like this.
∞ babe (in my arms)。
→ EXO: Sehun/Suho; PG(-13?); Fluff; 368 words
☆Originally written as a tweetfic for Kath ♡
Junmyeon shivers on the mattress, grumbling how cold it is despite him being buried under three layers of blankets. He turns his body, back against the wall, eyes blessed with the sight of Oh Sehun with his legs casually crossed, bare arms so strikingly in contrast to the black wifebeater he is wearing.
Apparently, the younger male is still awake; there is a book in his hands and his eyebrows tell that he is reading Something Serious. When Sehun turns a page, his attention strays from the inked paper then drifts towards his hyung. And so Junmyeon quickly ducks his head back under the blanket, feigning sleep. Chuckling, Sehun closes the book, places it on the bedside table with a soft, rustling sound, taking a few steps towards Junmyeon until the older male hears the silence piercing the awkwardness that’s beginning to bloom.
The next thing Junmyeon knows is that there is weight dipping down his mattress, and he shivers not because it’s cold (no, definitely not) but because he’s nervous. But he doesn’t get why he’s nervous at all. Why should he be nervous? It’s just Sehun, right? His roommate?? He should be used to his presence?? But yeah, he gulps and counts the seconds that tick by (why is the alarm clock suddenly so darn loud??).
Suddenly, the weight shifts towards his own, and for a second he (almost) gasps for air. and suddenly, it has become too bright; Sehun has tugged his blankets down to reveal his face. and it’s awkward that he’s staring right into Sehun’s all-too-bright starry eyes. “I know you can’t sleep, hyung. But no, I am not going to turn off the air conditioner for you. Because it’s hot for me and there is one solution for this,” Sehun says as he rolls his hyung over such that they are facing each other (note: face AND body).
"We’ll sleep like this," he whispers, breath softly parting his hyung’s fringe. “Good night, babe." is all takes for Junmyeon to feel the heat rushing to his face.
“You hormonal teenager,” Junmyeon retorts, playfully punching Sehun’s chest, only to be avenged with arms holding him tight (and holding him close). “Good night, hyung.”
“Babe.”
∞ mornings in your arms (like this)。
→ Kuroko no Basuke: Kise Ryouta/Kuroko Tetsuya; PG(-13?); fluff; lapslock; 90 words
☆ supposedly part of the photographer+model au i intended to work on. title is for this drabble (aka fragment of the main fic) only. final title for the fic to be decided in the future. drabble inspired by this art. drabble originally posted here.
because when the morning comes, tetsuya wakes up not because of the scorching heat from the beams of light that filter from the curtains, but of the warm arms that wrap loosely around him, a gesture that speaks of the reluctance to let him go but not forcing him to stay. and when he opens his eyes, he winces not because of the bright white light of the dawn, but by the lovely sight of ryouta sleeping soundly beside him, with a calm face that makes his heart swell nonetheless.
∞ to the you whom i look up to。
→ Tenisu no Oujisama: Echizen Ryoma-centric (implied Echizen Ryoma/Tezuka Kunimitsu); idk what genre; G; 270 words
☆ another Thing wrote out of whim on twitter I blame Kei and Coney for fueling my guilty feelings for this (long-forgotten-but-now-have-resurrected-and-now-are-back-to-haunt-me) ship. TEZUFUJI IS MY MAIN SHIP B-B-B-BUT I love TezuRyo so much I just want to cry right now. Also, saving this for archiving purposes. And I don’t want to edit this ever so don’t bother D: also, my very first TeniPuri/TezuRyo fic thingy. Drabble originally posted here.
Echizen Ryoma, despite being the selfish boy facade, really cares so much for his Buchou, Tezuka Kunimitsu. He exuded confidence when he answered his Buchou’s order of being Seigaku’s Pillar with a sneer.
But only now does he realize the weight of such hope being placed upon his shoulders. The pressure can be unbearable sometimes, because he may beat his Tennis Club senpais in their practice games, but he is still never at par with his father.
And so he kicks the ground on which he stands, sending particles of dust into the air like spray, frustration washing over him like the sweat adhering on his skin.
But as he looks up, to the azure sky so wide that the image of his bespectacled captain whose eyes are blazing with trust, he begins to breathe. The voice of his Captain rings to his ears as the wind whooshes past him, cooling his sweat-drenched skin and kissing him with determination not to disappoint the next person whom he looks up to.
Because despite the naughty, arrogant kid facade that Ryoma puts up, he knows that his Captain can see right through his masks. His captain sees a child who only wants to have a place in this world, who wants to prove that he is worthy of the name of Echizen, who wants to prove that he is unique, who wants to show everyone that he is a warrior worthy of waving the tennis racket as his sword.
His captain sees someone worthy of being trusted with the responsibility of taking Seigaku on his wings, towards greater heights and wider horizons.
∞ Ocean Scent。
→ TVXQ(/JYJ): Yunho/Jaejoong; PG-13; Fluff; 338 words
☆Written for Nyanyan ♡
He plants a kiss on Jaejoong's head, the petite male’s chestnut hair is soft against his lips. He allows himself to stay that way, relishing in Jaejoong's fragrance like he's never going to breathe air anytime again soon.
Jaejoong smells like the ocean, fresh mist against his nose, his strands of hair feel like droplets of saltwater prickling on his cheeks.
The fragrance of the ocean is the air of freedom for a busy man like Jung Yunho. Growing up from the hustling metropolitan network of Gwangju, the ocean is an entirely new realm for him. The shoreline is the gate that opens to this world. The air beyond is different; it's cooler, lighter, fresher.
It’s the freedom that he so desires, almost within reach but out of grasp.
It’s the calm that soothes him after a long day with heavy spotlights and sticky make-up, free from the restrictions imposed by his clothes when he dances.
It’s the sanctuary that he rarely comes to, just like how rarely he visits the nearest shoreline in real life.
Just like how rarely he gets peaceful moments like this, moments alone with Jaejoong, with the light weight of the other male pressed against him, the scent of the ocean on his hair. Schedules have kept both of them busy; have kept both of them apart for a long while. Thus, Yunho is grateful to have this opportunity to spend time with him, even if he’s going to spend it sleeping beside him.
Yunho smiles as he tightens his embrace on Jaejoong’s sleeping form, lets his mind wander off to the ocean brought about by the other male's fragrance.
Jaejoong stirs, eyelids struggling to pull up as he lazily faces Yunho. “Sleep, you idiot,” he mumbles sleepily. “We don't have all the time in the world.”
This makes Yunho chuckle. Wrapping his arms around his beloved and pulling him closer, he breathes, long and silent, and decides that the stardusts dangling on Jaejoong's lashes are like the glimmer on the ocean's surface.
∞ Legs, Legs。
→ TVXQ: Yunho/Changmin; NC-17; Smut; 678 words
☆Written for Huiqinyan ♡♥
“Wonderful! Now say ‘cheese’!” the official photographer says shortly before pressing her finger on the capture button of her camera. “The fans were all hyped up, thanks to you guys. You did well, Changmin-sshi, Kyuhyun-sshi, Minho-sshi!” she adds, winking as she moves away to capture more behind-the-scene footages as the concert continues.
“Where did Junmyeonnie go?” Changmin asks Kyuhyun, as the three of them slowly walk their way down the hallway and towards their respective dressing rooms. “He had to rush for his next performance. But I think he's just a little embarrassed being in such a skimpy dress and high heels,” Kyuhyun laughs, waving his hand over his shoulder, tossing the golden locks of his wig elegantly like a lady would, garnering giggles from both male and female staff backstage.
“Excuse me, hyung-deul, but my feet hurt,” Minho mentions. “I think I’ll go first. I need to get out of this itchy net clothing.” The youngest quickens his pace and waves at them, before entering the dressing room with ‘SHINee’ labeled on the door.
“Young people these days,” Kyuhyun sighs, “so daring to try out dangerous acts but so quickly embarrassed over tried-and-tested methods.”
“You talk like you're old already,” Changmin punches him lightly on the arm.
“Lady Shim, that is so not how a lady behaves,” Kyuhyun jokingly answers him, using a mock aunt voice. Both of them laugh heartily, not minding how loudly the heels of their shoes are tapping on the floor.
“Anyway, Kyuhyun-ah, it was a nice first-experience. My admiration for you SuJu guys doing this on a regular basis just went up my normal scale.”
Kyuhyun gives him a lady-like flying kiss as a response, before shutting the door to Super Junior's dressing room.
The TVXQ dressing room is unoccupied by the stylists when Changmin enters, save for the leader who is sitting in front of the mirror with hands folded on his lap and his eyes closed.
“Sleeping at this hour, hyung?” Changmin announces, loudly, intending to wake Yunho up in case that he was really sleeping. He receives a grunt as a reply. So, Yunho is not asleep, just probably resting and conserving his energy for their official stage.
“What are you so upset about?” Changmin asks, taking his shoes off and placing them neatly on the rack. He then saunters to Yunho, barefooted.
“You,” Yunho responds. His answers comes off breathy, like it's heavy with unspoken frustrations that are about to explode.
“Why?”
Yunho inhales, long and loud. “I should have insisted on the stylist to show me her designs before she made that outfit.”
“And why? She did a good job though.”
Changmin notices Yunho tense, his knuckles turning white.
“Too. Much. Skin.” Yunho answers, word after word, through gritted teeth.
Changmin all but cackles. “You're upset over that? Hyung, please.”
Yunho opens his eyes, and narrows them as if he's glaring at the younger. Changmin laughs and kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the skin.
And the next thing Changmin sees is Yunho pushing him towards the mirror, his bum hitting against the edge of the counter, and the leader's teeth ravishing his lips. Yunho’s nails are burrowing deep into Changmin’s upper thigh, and the former is grinding furiously against him. The leader is already hard under the tight fabric of his pants. It’s dangerous. Changmin had forgotten to lock the door and anybody could walk in any time.
Under all the pressure, the maknae manages to hit the leader’s face with his palm. Yunho is taken aback, eyes wide in shock, his breath unsteady.
“Don't you know how hard it was for me? I even had to send our own stylists out for me to calm down and now you're teasing me again.”
Jealousy is a flame burning strongly in Yunho’s eyes.
But then Changmin smirks, much to Yunho’s surprise, and wraps arms around the older male’s neck.
“I can’t believe you can be so possessive, hyung,” the maknae says, as he runs a foot upwards against Yunho’s inner legs, slowly, teasingly.
∞ Birthday Present。
→ EXO: Kris/Tao; PG; Fluff; 473 words
☆Written for Kath ♡
“Sehun-ah~~~”
When Sehun opens his eyes, he sees a pair of black irises above him, his own sleepy face reflected upon them. He almost punches the other boy out of shock, good thing the latter is good in martial arts. Having good reflexes, he manages to avoid the fist of impending doom without breaking a sweat.
“What?” Sehun grumbles, tossing his body back to the mattress.
“Lend me money, Sehun-ah~”
“Don’t have any. Go ask Junmyeon-hyung.”
“Mama won’t give me money anymore.” Sehun can tell that the other boy is already pouting even without looking at him. He decides to feign sleep instead of answering his friend’s plea.
But the other boy is persistent. He continues to chant Sehun’s name while shaking the sleeping boy’s shoulder.
“Tao, go ask from Yifan ge instead!” he hisses grumpily at the raven-haired boy.
Well, that seems to have calmed him down. But an air of uneasiness sizzles on Sehun’s skin, so he gets up and faces Tao, who is now hanging his head low, crestfallen. “I need money to buy Fan ge a gift. And I’m broke.”
This made Sehun huff loudly. “You’re hopeless,” he remarks, grabbing his phone to text Junmyeon. Accidentally, he presses the icon for the camera instead of the messaging one. Then an idea blooms in him.
“Hey, selfie prince,” he turns to Tao, smirking evilly while waving his phone.
Yifan wakes up at two in the morning with his phone ringing endlessly, much to his annoyance. He picks it up and checks what is going on. Great. Zitao is on Snapchat, sending him lots of, Yifan guesses, selfies with or without random captions. Yifan contemplates whether the younger is out drinking with Sehun and Junmyeon again. This could be a scheme where Zitao needs to fulfill a dare of sending him annoying Snapchats.
Against his own judgment, he opens them.
The first one has, as Yifan had guessed, Zitao’s too-close face with the caption “Hi ge!”. The second one is another selfie with the caption “Good morning~”. The third one has no caption, just the younger boy moving his lips to what seems to be sheng ri kuai le. Yifan quickly closed the app, noting there were two more messages in there from the same sender, and checked to see what day it is. His calendar confirmed that it is indeed his birthday. Due to his busy schedule, he forgot about his own birthday.
Delighted, he smiles and goes back to snapchat to view the remaining messages. The fourth message is Zitao mouthing the words saeng-il chukhahae. How much he misses this boy. And the last one sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
In it, Zitao mouthed the words, wo ai ni, and blew him a kiss.
In a heartbeat, Yifan dials Zitao’s number and presses his phone to his ear.
∞ Of Rice and Nori。
→ EXO: Suho/Lay; PG; Fluff; 407 words
☆Written for Anon ♡
“Cold, too c-cold,” Junmyeon shivers, squeezing his tiny body between two pieces of rolled rice, hoping that the layers of sticky grains would keep him warm. Unfortunately for him, the air inside the kitchen is pilfering the warmth out of the freshly-cooked grains faster than he’d like. He might pass out any minute now.
He misses the warmth inside the rice cooker, he wishes he could stay there. But lady fate seems to be evil to him today, because while he was sleeping, the human chef scooped him out of there. Humans could not see sprites like him, and it was too late for him to go back to the sauna-like comforts of the rice cooker. Now, he’s on a white platter surrounded by rolls of clumped rice, carefully displayed on the counter near a moving conveyor belt.
Tears are starting to well up in his eyes, and Junmyeon sucks in a breath so they won’t fall. He knows that if he cries, the tears would be cold against his skin. He doesn’t want more of the cold.
Already daunted by the relentless cold air, Junmyeon stiffles the sobs that cumulate in his throat. If he loses his strength, the tears would fall and things would be nastier, colder.
“Hey!” A voice beckons him. It sounds silvery in his ears.
Turning around, he sees a boy, slightly taller than him. A fellow sprite!
“Are you cold?” the other sprite-boy asks, shyly scratching his cheek with his finger. “I could… uhm… offer you some blanket, if you like?”
Junmyeon had wanted to smile, but he is so elated that he bursts into tears at the other sprite’s words.
“Hey, hey! Don’t cry!” the other sprite boy panics, rushing to Junmyeon’s side and spreading a green-colored sheet over him. Junmyeon begins to calm down; the fragrance of the blanket seems to tranquilize him.
Junmyeon rubs the tears off his eyes and turns to the other sprite. “Hello. I’m Yixing, a sprite of the seaweed,” the sprite boy says, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon to give him more warmth.
Blinking, Junmyeon replies, “I’m Junmyeon. S-sprite of the r-rice.”
“Hey! Chef, this one’s ready to go!” a voice booms through the kitchen. Suddenly, the platter in which Yixing and Junmyeon are on is being lifted and loaded into the conveyor belt.
“Where are we going?” Junmyeon asks in confusion.
Yixing smiles comfortably at him. “To a place that’s warmer than here.”
第三部 :: break and ache。
☆ basically me going ( ＾◡＾)っ✂❤
∞ he would stay。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Angst (separation); PG; 210 words
☆ This was supposed to be a… Thing… for me to use against Coney. Originally intended as a torture device along the theme of Kevin (Li) → Junmyeon ← Kevin (Shin), but I ended up being the one suffering instead HAHAHAHA. I couldn’t continue this anymore, so this will be filed here for safekeeping purposes. Originally posted here.
On that night, when the stars scintillate and hushed wishes drip from the sky, he plants a kiss on the sleeping male’s forehead, so softly as if it’s not going to be the last of them, but only the last one before a battle that he himself is uncertain when to end, when to return, whether he can return victorious or not. What he’s only certain about is that it would be a bloody battle, where deep wounds would be inflicted and pain would seep and eat his senses as the blades pierce his flesh.
Seeing Junmyeon sleeping so soundly like this, so vulnerable despite the guardian facade and the armor of an invincible boy that he exhibits when his eyes are open, makes Yifan want to stay and hold him until dawn comes.
If only he had the patience as wide as the sky, the endurance as unbreakable as steel, and the vision to see the beauty in the little things despite the cruelty of the world (For these are the qualities that, undeniably, comprise Junmyeon. How he wishes he could extend his perspective, and see Junmyeon everywhere he goes; it would be enough, it should be enough.), he would stay.
(He would stay. But alas, he could not.)
∞ the sparks in your eyes, fading。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Angst; PG; 255 words
☆Originally posted here.
He beams at you, eyes shining bright and full of sparks that you wish you’d be able to catch and keep in your hands. Your heart thumps wildly inside your chest, and you find yourself battling for air. The guilt begins to swell inside your rib cage, as if every small breath you take makes everything harder for you to look back at him. You want to kiss him, right there, right now because damn Kim Junmyeon stop making things harder for me.
(Stop making it harder for me to let go and run away. Stop making it harder for me to leave you behind. Stop making me want to stay.)
And so, instead of holding his tiny face with your enormous hands, you resist the urge to kiss him, and have chosen to keep your hands close to yourself.
"A little fan service won’t hurt," he says, as he grins so widely you can’t help but smile back at him.
(What he doesn’t know is that it hurts; it hurts because this would be the last time that the world would see how much he loves you without knowing the truth behind your relationship. This would be the last time you would be able to see him with those eyes full of love and happiness, before they would be replaced with sadness and anger, because he still doesn’t know that the love of a Little Prince like him is a rose with thorns that can pierce his soul if he grips it too tightly.)
☆ happy holidays, everyone!
第一部 :: counting numbers with you。
The following drabbles were written for this meme. These were written at a time when my attitude towards writing wasn’t that good yet. But, I’m working to have a happy disposition towards writing.
∞ #27; Here, With You。
→ EXO: Suho/Tao; Comfort; PG; 462 words
☆ written for Keira ♡
Despite the exhaustion, sleep refuses to seep into your nerves. You wonder whether your blood is too bland to entice it, too insipid to dissolve it and let it flow in your veins. Either that or your mind is filled with thoughts running amok, too loud inside your head that you can’t hush them despite the intermittent snoring of the members and the occasional honks of the wayward cars in the quiet streets of Changsha. And despite all that noise, there is but one thought that resonates so strongly that you can hear it being whispered at the shell of your ear.
(I am at a place where I do not wish to be.)
“Hyung,” a raspy voice snaps you out of your reverie. You turn around to recognize his presence, and give him a smile, albeit weakly, making him remove his hand from rubbing his eyes. “Why are you up so early?” he asks, voice still droned by drowsiness.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you answer as you stretch out to cradle his head unto your shoulder. He scoots closer, and settles his head comfortably before reaching for your hand, entwining your fingers between his, lightly tapping the back of your hand with his forefinger.
He hums, “You’re thinking too much again, hyung.”
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, apology diluted by a lowly sigh as you gaze longingly at the horizon. The purple is being tinged by a looming shade of orange, like blood spreading slowly into a clean fabric.
“How do you find, Changsha, hyung?”
“Pretty much the same as the times we’ve been here,” you answer him, leaning your head towards his and delighting in the softness of his ruffled hair.
“I mean, how do you find it now?”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat the words, and his grip on your hand tightens. “Pretty much the same as Seoul; the sky is starless,” and I am filled with the empty feeling of sadness you’d like to add, but you choose to bite your tongue than to utter such words.
“Junmian ge,” he pronounces your name using the Chinese accent. You can’t reprimand him; he’s in his territory after all. “Perhaps if you’d stop staring and yearning for the stars in the sky, you’ll find that there are lanterns glowing near you.”
And before you can even retort, his breath steadies, you can feel it through the thin fabric of your shirt. Thus you smile, because his light glows steadily, warmly, and you know that he’s glowing at this moment for you, and that you can hold him so fondly like this.
Closing your eyes, you listen to the melodies of his breath, softly, lulling you to sleep when the orange splash in the starless sky attenuates to a pale shade of blue.
∞ #82; Can You Hear Me?
→ EXO: Kai/Luhan; Romance; PG; 439 words
☆ written for BakaYuki ♡
If love is the air that they breathe, then poetry is the blood that carries this love-filled oxygen through all parts of their body, making them functional, fully alive.
For Luhan, he writes poems through his lips. With every note he reaches, honeyed words flow out, extracted from the stellar sources, unseen by the naked eyes.
For Jongin, he writes poems with his body. Music brings out the poet in him; every flick of the wrist and turn of the heel is a stanza of a poem embedded in a cosmos of tangled thoughts.
For these two poets, whose forms of expression clash, a rain on an unlikely afternoon, molds them into a harmonious performance of song and dance.
If Luhan’s class didn’t end five minutes later after the bell rang, and if Jongin didn’t forget his umbrella that morning, then they wouldn’t have met.
It is said that horrible singing is an incantation for the rain, but Luhan believes that it’s a wonderful accompaniment to the lyrics in his head, albeit with the rhythm messed up, but still, pleasant to his ears. And besides, he is blessed with excellent ears for music, and so he sings, confidently as the rain taps on his umbrella, accenting his songs with every splash on the shiny concrete path that he trudges on. He momentarily stops when his eyes captures the scene of a young lad, skin kissed by the sun that Luhan freezes to ponder whether he’s imagining things before him.
Every stretch of his arms disperses rainbows out of the raindrops that touch his skin. Every curl of his slender fingers is a fluid movement to capture the raindrops that fall. Every stomp of his feet on the ground sends sparkles to his performance. Luhan finds his grip on the umbrella tighten. Why is there a boy dancing in the rain at a time like this? Why does he suddenly want to throw his umbrella away and sing his heart out without a care in the world? When was the last time he did such a thing?
The boy smirks before him, as if urging him to continue with his song, as if he had heard him before Luhan got a sight of him.
(“Why were you dancing in the rain?” Luhan asks, gazing at the droplets that sliver down the tanned boy defined jawline.
Ruffling his wet hair with a towel, the boy answers him, “The rain was calling for me. I didn’t want to do it at first; people would think I’m crazy. But then, I heard your song, and before I could prevent myself, I’m already drenched.”)
∞ #04; Thunderstorms in My Heart。
→ EXO: Chen/Lay; Fluff; G; 181 words
☆ written for Weixin ♡
A loud boom sears through the sudden darkness, and a flash of light takes away the hundreds of light that illuminated the buildings in the city before it. Somewhere in one of the tall buildings of Seoul, in one of the now-quiet rooms of a dormitory, two boys find comfort in each other’s arms. One boy is shivering in fear, while the other can’t control his chuckling over the other’s misery.
“Too much for being the one who ‘controls’ lightning and thunder,” the boy who was chuckling earlier says, pronouncing the words in Korean with such care and effort.
“Shut up, ge,” the other lad retorts, softly punching the former’s arms. “Why are they taking too long to set up the generator? It’s too dark.”
The first boy’s laughter rings through the darkness, and somehow, it soothes the second boy’s heart. The breathiness of his amusement is a song to the younger boy’s ears, and so he snuggles closer to the fabric of the older boy’s sweater.
“Don’t worry, my dear Pikachen. I’ll be your Ash Yixing until the storm ends.”
∞ #74; Petty Argument。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Fluff; PG-13; 639 words
☆ written for Abbeybby ♡
Upon entering the studio, Yifan accidentally bumps into Junmyeon, who almost stumbles to the floor if not for Yifan’s quick reflexes, hand cushioning the redhead’s waist. “Sorry. Are you alright?”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” Junmyeon replies as he forcefully pushes Yifan’s arm off of him. There is a tinge of pink on his cheeks, and Yifan all but feels more triumphant at Junmyeon’s failed attempt at feigning his flustered state with that indifferent face.
“Why are you blushing?” the tall blond asks, with a grin so wide that his gums are showing, with such courage to test the waters on Junmyeon’s uncontended surface whether a single disturbance might cause endless ripples upon it.
“I am not!” the redhead almost shouts; the color his cheeks are starting to bloom in a shade similar to his hair. “If you are that proud of your sex appeal, Wu,” Junmyeon places a lot of effort into snarling his surname before continuing, “and that you deem yourself to be that sexually active, then why don’t you just venture into the porn industry?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down little tiger,” Yifan says as he ruffles Junmyeon’s hair, following him still when the shorter male tries to get away, grabbing a bundle of papers on the nearest desk and pretending to be studying them. “I don’t want to,” he pouts, positioning himself beside Junmyeon, leaning so dangerously close that his lips are brushing against the latter’s ear. “If I do that, then people won’t be interested in me anymore,” he smirks when the smaller male tries not to shiver.
Junmyeon rolls his eyes and sets the papers back on the desk. Turning around, tilting his head up such that their eyes meet, he tells the blond model using his most irked accent, “You only live because of your beauty and vanity, don’t you?”
Of course, that is not enough to subdue a determined Yifan. “Oh, is that it, Kim Junmyeon? I didn’t know you find me ‘beautiful,” he retorts, uttering the last word with a playful tone.
The unexpected statement was a slap to Junmyeon’s face. Embarrassment rushes to his cheeks, and Junmyeon is left with no choice but to retreat, stomping his way towards the door.
“Why so flustered, Junmyeon-sshi? Am I really that ‘beautiful’?” Yifan presses teasingly, making Junmyeon feel more annoyed when he runs his fingers through his blond hair.
“Does it matter anyway though? You get complimented every day,” Junmyeon answers as he grabs the knob, pausing to take a deep breath before turning it.
Unfortunately for him, the model uses that timely pause to counter him. “Not every day by you, though.” And it’s all that it takes for Junmyeon to freeze on the spot. Yifan hums, all too merrily. “Ah, so now you’re complimenting me. Does this mean you like me as well?”
“Wu Yifan-sshi,” Junmyeon inhales, he knows the resolve in his voice is faltering with every single time his heart bumps into his chest bone. “It doesn’t really matter if I affirm your ego by saying ‘Yes, you are hot. You are sexy. And, you are beautiful’.” Even without looking directly at him, Junmyeon can only imagine the cocky grin on Yifan’s face growing larger with every word he pronounces. “But you are still very much a bastard for me to even begin to like you,” he blurts out before turning the knob hastily, walking out of the studio and slamming the door shut upon his exit.
Yifan smiles victoriously, almost flashing all of his pearly white teeth that if anybody would see him right now, they would say that he’s like a mad clown. A few seconds after, he surrenders to a fit of giggles because he’s so happy, too happy to know that he just managed to win an argument with the boy of his affections.
☆☆☆☆☆
☆The following were written for Francine as an impromptu birthday present. Originally posted here.
∞ #10;Drowning
→ Pairing Undefined; Second Person POV; Angst; 463 words
You plug your earphones in place, hoping to drown away the emptiness that’s starting to envelop you. You hate being left alone, especially at a time like this, when the pain is as fresh as the faint smell of iron from blood that seeps out of his wounds. And speaking of which, you remember the band-aid on your knee, a tiny piece meant to cover up the consequence of your carelessness and perhaps, protect you from making things worse. Upon pulling on the fabric of your jeans to check it out, you see that it is tainted. Again. Sighing, you strip it off, wincing and hissing when the cool air stings the moist surface.
Ironic, how pain can still reign despite the several methods of treatment you’ve done upon the wounds.
Ironic, how everything seems to go on, move on so fast, when you just want to stop for a while and take a breath, take a chance to let the blood dry and your flesh rehabilitate. But that’s how life is, right? A mere boy like you can’t stop the entire planet from rotating, because every second means four meters farther away from That Person, even with just him standing in the same place. The distance grows, the air becomes more frigid that it makes you curl into a ball, hugging your knees, the pain on your wound now gone numb.
Sometimes, you wish that sleep would come to you immediately, so that it would take you far, far away towards uncharted worlds. Because reality, right now, is too much for you to handle. You needed to breathe, to take off all worries and be freed from the air filled with pressure and loneliness that suffocates you.
Sometimes, you wish he was here to save you from drowning. But sometimes, you see him drowning too. And sometimes, you wish you could be by his side, talk about anything and everything, just like the old times, those times when you were just sitting by the beach admiring how the sea consumes the orange orb falling slowly from the sky, times before he decided to challenge the waves that are bigger than him, claiming he knows how to swim (claiming he knows that you’ll save him regardless).
And the sea has proven that it is larger than him, and you have proven to him that you’ll save him no matter what. But then, the wound on your knee tells of a different story, a tale filled with the saltiness of the sea and then the metallic taste of blood on your lips. The wind around you is cold, but the distance between you and him, the exchange for his freedom, is colder.
(And you need him by your side to help keep you warm.)
∞ #60; Rejection
→ Pairing Undefined; Second Person POV; Angst?; 100 words
Pushing your fingers to the soil, you ignore the texture of the particles grazing the skin beneath your nails. It’s fine, you whisper as tears fall from your eyes down to the spot you covered. At least, these tears will let the seed grow and become somebody’s tree, where its branches shall provide shade for him, away from the blazing afternoon sun; or perhaps a shelter when the clouds can’t stay quiet any longer.
It’s fine, you repeat. The tears are borne of the bitter reality (of hopeful wishes unreturned), but the truth of your love shall nourish this seed.
∞ #72; Mischief Managed
→ EXO: Kris/Suho featuring Sehun and Zitao as their kids; Third Person POV; AU; 117 words
It was a bad idea buying Sehun and Zitao fake wands. And fake Invisibility Cloaks. And a fake Marauder’s Map. Because it took Junmyeon and Yifan an hour to get them to bed, with the two trouble makers whooshing past them muttering spells they memorized off the pages of the world-famous novel. Who knew these kids who didn’t seem interested in anything would be so invested in a fantasy world?
“Whose fault is it?” Junmyeon glares at Yifan while tucking Sehun under the covers.
“It’s your money!” Yifan answers, dashing out of the kids’ bedroom, away from a raging Junmyeon, who may have grabbed Zitao’s fake Firebolt.
“Mischief managed,” both kids whisper triumphantly before drifting to sleep.
∞ #80; Words
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Third Person POV; Angst; 100 words
If only quarter notes were syllables and Junmyeon had the ability to speak, then he could recite songs of love to the man whose hair has been kissed by the sun, slender fingers dancing through ivory and ebony keys like the entire set was a dance floor and the song that both of them are playing is the music that his fingers are frolicking to.
If only Yifan knows, that when he lifts his fingers off a key for every eighth rest, Junmyeon’s breath stills. But he would never know, because he never listens to the silence that Junmyeon speaks.
∞ #82; Can You Hear Me?
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Third Person POV; Drama?; 153 words
People wear masks everyday. Masks to help them face the world with people wearing different kinds of masks. Perhaps, the Voice is another Mask, Junmyeon supposes, as he listens to the honeyed voice of the people giving compliments to Yifan and his performance for tonight. How saccharine their words are, adorned with the pleasant lilt in their tones.
He doesn’t need to tell Yifan later on, how the lady in red has a tongue as sharp as a sword, or how her husband’s throat has grown accustomed to the patterns of deception, because Yifan knows, and wants nothing of their praises nor of anybody else’s.
What Yifan wants is the silence of being understood, when he himself has taken his own mask off and gazes at him, eyes dulled by the expectations of the world, and Junmyeon is the only one who can take the final mask off and send him aglow again.
第二部 :: hold me tight (and never let go)。
☆ just some random drabbles filed here for safekeeping
∞ morning routine (for a breakfast date)。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Fluff; PG; 345 words written out of whim/word vomit
☆originally posted here.
Wu Yifan is never a morning person. when the sun’s rays finally escape the thin line of the ever-quiet horizon in the drowsy dawn, his head is buried under the thick comfort of his blanket. The sun’s beams filter softly through his curtains, landing on Yifan’s uncovered foot with a sizzle, causing the brunet to curl into a ball in order to avoid the call of reality. So when Kim Junmyeon bangs on his door before his alarm clock could even join the melodious chirping of the birds on his windowsill, he rolls himself to the edge of his bed, landing on the floor with a thud and an almost-awake state, groaning in frustration of being pulled away from his dreams and pushed into Cruel Reality. When he opens the door, he is greeted by an always joyous Kim Junmyeon, who smiles more radiantly than the morning sun that his vision narrows into slits as a sort of automatic defense mechanism.
"Yifan, you promised me a breakfast date!" the petite male pouts, pulling himself up and standing on his toes as he reaches up to fix Yifan’s messy hair, placing a casual kiss on the brunet’s dry lips.
"Sorry, Junmyeon-ah. You beat my alarm clock in waking me up!" Yifan tells him with his usual ‘I just woke up so my throat is quite dry’ hoarse voice.
"That’s because you forgot to set it up, you dork.”
“Hey, don’t call me that!” Yifan grumbles as he pull Junmyeon into an embrace, placing his chin on the shorter male’s head and pretending to snooze just as that.
“If Snow White had giants instead of dwarves, you’d be Grumpy,” Junmyeon remarks as he slides out of the taller male’s arms and stands behind him. “Now go take a bath, Wu Grumpy.”
“But my dear Kim Snow White, Wu Grumpy will always be your favorite giant-dwarf, right?”
“Sheeeesh.”
Yifan decides, even when he is not a morning person, he wouldn’t mind waking up by a troublesome Junmyeon who whines about breakfast dates if every day were like this.
∞ babe (in my arms)。
→ EXO: Sehun/Suho; PG(-13?); Fluff; 368 words
☆Originally written as a tweetfic for Kath ♡
Junmyeon shivers on the mattress, grumbling how cold it is despite him being buried under three layers of blankets. He turns his body, back against the wall, eyes blessed with the sight of Oh Sehun with his legs casually crossed, bare arms so strikingly in contrast to the black wifebeater he is wearing.
Apparently, the younger male is still awake; there is a book in his hands and his eyebrows tell that he is reading Something Serious. When Sehun turns a page, his attention strays from the inked paper then drifts towards his hyung. And so Junmyeon quickly ducks his head back under the blanket, feigning sleep. Chuckling, Sehun closes the book, places it on the bedside table with a soft, rustling sound, taking a few steps towards Junmyeon until the older male hears the silence piercing the awkwardness that’s beginning to bloom.
The next thing Junmyeon knows is that there is weight dipping down his mattress, and he shivers not because it’s cold (no, definitely not) but because he’s nervous. But he doesn’t get why he’s nervous at all. Why should he be nervous? It’s just Sehun, right? His roommate?? He should be used to his presence?? But yeah, he gulps and counts the seconds that tick by (why is the alarm clock suddenly so darn loud??).
Suddenly, the weight shifts towards his own, and for a second he (almost) gasps for air. and suddenly, it has become too bright; Sehun has tugged his blankets down to reveal his face. and it’s awkward that he’s staring right into Sehun’s all-too-bright starry eyes. “I know you can’t sleep, hyung. But no, I am not going to turn off the air conditioner for you. Because it’s hot for me and there is one solution for this,” Sehun says as he rolls his hyung over such that they are facing each other (note: face AND body).
"We’ll sleep like this," he whispers, breath softly parting his hyung’s fringe. “Good night, babe." is all takes for Junmyeon to feel the heat rushing to his face.
“You hormonal teenager,” Junmyeon retorts, playfully punching Sehun’s chest, only to be avenged with arms holding him tight (and holding him close). “Good night, hyung.”
“Babe.”
∞ mornings in your arms (like this)。
→ Kuroko no Basuke: Kise Ryouta/Kuroko Tetsuya; PG(-13?); fluff; lapslock; 90 words
☆ supposedly part of the photographer+model au i intended to work on. title is for this drabble (aka fragment of the main fic) only. final title for the fic to be decided in the future. drabble inspired by this art. drabble originally posted here.
because when the morning comes, tetsuya wakes up not because of the scorching heat from the beams of light that filter from the curtains, but of the warm arms that wrap loosely around him, a gesture that speaks of the reluctance to let him go but not forcing him to stay. and when he opens his eyes, he winces not because of the bright white light of the dawn, but by the lovely sight of ryouta sleeping soundly beside him, with a calm face that makes his heart swell nonetheless.
∞ to the you whom i look up to。
→ Tenisu no Oujisama: Echizen Ryoma-centric (implied Echizen Ryoma/Tezuka Kunimitsu); idk what genre; G; 270 words
☆ another Thing wrote out of whim on twitter I blame Kei and Coney for fueling my guilty feelings for this (long-forgotten-but-now-have-resurrected-and-now-are-back-to-haunt-me) ship. TEZUFUJI IS MY MAIN SHIP B-B-B-BUT I love TezuRyo so much I just want to cry right now. Also, saving this for archiving purposes. And I don’t want to edit this ever so don’t bother D: also, my very first TeniPuri/TezuRyo fic thingy. Drabble originally posted here.
Echizen Ryoma, despite being the selfish boy facade, really cares so much for his Buchou, Tezuka Kunimitsu. He exuded confidence when he answered his Buchou’s order of being Seigaku’s Pillar with a sneer.
But only now does he realize the weight of such hope being placed upon his shoulders. The pressure can be unbearable sometimes, because he may beat his Tennis Club senpais in their practice games, but he is still never at par with his father.
And so he kicks the ground on which he stands, sending particles of dust into the air like spray, frustration washing over him like the sweat adhering on his skin.
But as he looks up, to the azure sky so wide that the image of his bespectacled captain whose eyes are blazing with trust, he begins to breathe. The voice of his Captain rings to his ears as the wind whooshes past him, cooling his sweat-drenched skin and kissing him with determination not to disappoint the next person whom he looks up to.
Because despite the naughty, arrogant kid facade that Ryoma puts up, he knows that his Captain can see right through his masks. His captain sees a child who only wants to have a place in this world, who wants to prove that he is worthy of the name of Echizen, who wants to prove that he is unique, who wants to show everyone that he is a warrior worthy of waving the tennis racket as his sword.
His captain sees someone worthy of being trusted with the responsibility of taking Seigaku on his wings, towards greater heights and wider horizons.
∞ Ocean Scent。
→ TVXQ(/JYJ): Yunho/Jaejoong; PG-13; Fluff; 338 words
☆Written for Nyanyan ♡
He plants a kiss on Jaejoong's head, the petite male’s chestnut hair is soft against his lips. He allows himself to stay that way, relishing in Jaejoong's fragrance like he's never going to breathe air anytime again soon.
Jaejoong smells like the ocean, fresh mist against his nose, his strands of hair feel like droplets of saltwater prickling on his cheeks.
The fragrance of the ocean is the air of freedom for a busy man like Jung Yunho. Growing up from the hustling metropolitan network of Gwangju, the ocean is an entirely new realm for him. The shoreline is the gate that opens to this world. The air beyond is different; it's cooler, lighter, fresher.
It’s the freedom that he so desires, almost within reach but out of grasp.
It’s the calm that soothes him after a long day with heavy spotlights and sticky make-up, free from the restrictions imposed by his clothes when he dances.
It’s the sanctuary that he rarely comes to, just like how rarely he visits the nearest shoreline in real life.
Just like how rarely he gets peaceful moments like this, moments alone with Jaejoong, with the light weight of the other male pressed against him, the scent of the ocean on his hair. Schedules have kept both of them busy; have kept both of them apart for a long while. Thus, Yunho is grateful to have this opportunity to spend time with him, even if he’s going to spend it sleeping beside him.
Yunho smiles as he tightens his embrace on Jaejoong’s sleeping form, lets his mind wander off to the ocean brought about by the other male's fragrance.
Jaejoong stirs, eyelids struggling to pull up as he lazily faces Yunho. “Sleep, you idiot,” he mumbles sleepily. “We don't have all the time in the world.”
This makes Yunho chuckle. Wrapping his arms around his beloved and pulling him closer, he breathes, long and silent, and decides that the stardusts dangling on Jaejoong's lashes are like the glimmer on the ocean's surface.
∞ Legs, Legs。
→ TVXQ: Yunho/Changmin; NC-17; Smut; 678 words
☆Written for Huiqinyan ♡♥
“Wonderful! Now say ‘cheese’!” the official photographer says shortly before pressing her finger on the capture button of her camera. “The fans were all hyped up, thanks to you guys. You did well, Changmin-sshi, Kyuhyun-sshi, Minho-sshi!” she adds, winking as she moves away to capture more behind-the-scene footages as the concert continues.
“Where did Junmyeonnie go?” Changmin asks Kyuhyun, as the three of them slowly walk their way down the hallway and towards their respective dressing rooms. “He had to rush for his next performance. But I think he's just a little embarrassed being in such a skimpy dress and high heels,” Kyuhyun laughs, waving his hand over his shoulder, tossing the golden locks of his wig elegantly like a lady would, garnering giggles from both male and female staff backstage.
“Excuse me, hyung-deul, but my feet hurt,” Minho mentions. “I think I’ll go first. I need to get out of this itchy net clothing.” The youngest quickens his pace and waves at them, before entering the dressing room with ‘SHINee’ labeled on the door.
“Young people these days,” Kyuhyun sighs, “so daring to try out dangerous acts but so quickly embarrassed over tried-and-tested methods.”
“You talk like you're old already,” Changmin punches him lightly on the arm.
“Lady Shim, that is so not how a lady behaves,” Kyuhyun jokingly answers him, using a mock aunt voice. Both of them laugh heartily, not minding how loudly the heels of their shoes are tapping on the floor.
“Anyway, Kyuhyun-ah, it was a nice first-experience. My admiration for you SuJu guys doing this on a regular basis just went up my normal scale.”
Kyuhyun gives him a lady-like flying kiss as a response, before shutting the door to Super Junior's dressing room.
The TVXQ dressing room is unoccupied by the stylists when Changmin enters, save for the leader who is sitting in front of the mirror with hands folded on his lap and his eyes closed.
“Sleeping at this hour, hyung?” Changmin announces, loudly, intending to wake Yunho up in case that he was really sleeping. He receives a grunt as a reply. So, Yunho is not asleep, just probably resting and conserving his energy for their official stage.
“What are you so upset about?” Changmin asks, taking his shoes off and placing them neatly on the rack. He then saunters to Yunho, barefooted.
“You,” Yunho responds. His answers comes off breathy, like it's heavy with unspoken frustrations that are about to explode.
“Why?”
Yunho inhales, long and loud. “I should have insisted on the stylist to show me her designs before she made that outfit.”
“And why? She did a good job though.”
Changmin notices Yunho tense, his knuckles turning white.
“Too. Much. Skin.” Yunho answers, word after word, through gritted teeth.
Changmin all but cackles. “You're upset over that? Hyung, please.”
Yunho opens his eyes, and narrows them as if he's glaring at the younger. Changmin laughs and kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the skin.
And the next thing Changmin sees is Yunho pushing him towards the mirror, his bum hitting against the edge of the counter, and the leader's teeth ravishing his lips. Yunho’s nails are burrowing deep into Changmin’s upper thigh, and the former is grinding furiously against him. The leader is already hard under the tight fabric of his pants. It’s dangerous. Changmin had forgotten to lock the door and anybody could walk in any time.
Under all the pressure, the maknae manages to hit the leader’s face with his palm. Yunho is taken aback, eyes wide in shock, his breath unsteady.
“Don't you know how hard it was for me? I even had to send our own stylists out for me to calm down and now you're teasing me again.”
Jealousy is a flame burning strongly in Yunho’s eyes.
But then Changmin smirks, much to Yunho’s surprise, and wraps arms around the older male’s neck.
“I can’t believe you can be so possessive, hyung,” the maknae says, as he runs a foot upwards against Yunho’s inner legs, slowly, teasingly.
∞ Birthday Present。
→ EXO: Kris/Tao; PG; Fluff; 473 words
☆Written for Kath ♡
“Sehun-ah~~~”
When Sehun opens his eyes, he sees a pair of black irises above him, his own sleepy face reflected upon them. He almost punches the other boy out of shock, good thing the latter is good in martial arts. Having good reflexes, he manages to avoid the fist of impending doom without breaking a sweat.
“What?” Sehun grumbles, tossing his body back to the mattress.
“Lend me money, Sehun-ah~”
“Don’t have any. Go ask Junmyeon-hyung.”
“Mama won’t give me money anymore.” Sehun can tell that the other boy is already pouting even without looking at him. He decides to feign sleep instead of answering his friend’s plea.
But the other boy is persistent. He continues to chant Sehun’s name while shaking the sleeping boy’s shoulder.
“Tao, go ask from Yifan ge instead!” he hisses grumpily at the raven-haired boy.
Well, that seems to have calmed him down. But an air of uneasiness sizzles on Sehun’s skin, so he gets up and faces Tao, who is now hanging his head low, crestfallen. “I need money to buy Fan ge a gift. And I’m broke.”
This made Sehun huff loudly. “You’re hopeless,” he remarks, grabbing his phone to text Junmyeon. Accidentally, he presses the icon for the camera instead of the messaging one. Then an idea blooms in him.
“Hey, selfie prince,” he turns to Tao, smirking evilly while waving his phone.
Yifan wakes up at two in the morning with his phone ringing endlessly, much to his annoyance. He picks it up and checks what is going on. Great. Zitao is on Snapchat, sending him lots of, Yifan guesses, selfies with or without random captions. Yifan contemplates whether the younger is out drinking with Sehun and Junmyeon again. This could be a scheme where Zitao needs to fulfill a dare of sending him annoying Snapchats.
Against his own judgment, he opens them.
The first one has, as Yifan had guessed, Zitao’s too-close face with the caption “Hi ge!”. The second one is another selfie with the caption “Good morning~”. The third one has no caption, just the younger boy moving his lips to what seems to be sheng ri kuai le. Yifan quickly closed the app, noting there were two more messages in there from the same sender, and checked to see what day it is. His calendar confirmed that it is indeed his birthday. Due to his busy schedule, he forgot about his own birthday.
Delighted, he smiles and goes back to snapchat to view the remaining messages. The fourth message is Zitao mouthing the words saeng-il chukhahae. How much he misses this boy. And the last one sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
In it, Zitao mouthed the words, wo ai ni, and blew him a kiss.
In a heartbeat, Yifan dials Zitao’s number and presses his phone to his ear.
∞ Of Rice and Nori。
→ EXO: Suho/Lay; PG; Fluff; 407 words
☆Written for Anon ♡
“Cold, too c-cold,” Junmyeon shivers, squeezing his tiny body between two pieces of rolled rice, hoping that the layers of sticky grains would keep him warm. Unfortunately for him, the air inside the kitchen is pilfering the warmth out of the freshly-cooked grains faster than he’d like. He might pass out any minute now.
He misses the warmth inside the rice cooker, he wishes he could stay there. But lady fate seems to be evil to him today, because while he was sleeping, the human chef scooped him out of there. Humans could not see sprites like him, and it was too late for him to go back to the sauna-like comforts of the rice cooker. Now, he’s on a white platter surrounded by rolls of clumped rice, carefully displayed on the counter near a moving conveyor belt.
Tears are starting to well up in his eyes, and Junmyeon sucks in a breath so they won’t fall. He knows that if he cries, the tears would be cold against his skin. He doesn’t want more of the cold.
Already daunted by the relentless cold air, Junmyeon stiffles the sobs that cumulate in his throat. If he loses his strength, the tears would fall and things would be nastier, colder.
“Hey!” A voice beckons him. It sounds silvery in his ears.
Turning around, he sees a boy, slightly taller than him. A fellow sprite!
“Are you cold?” the other sprite-boy asks, shyly scratching his cheek with his finger. “I could… uhm… offer you some blanket, if you like?”
Junmyeon had wanted to smile, but he is so elated that he bursts into tears at the other sprite’s words.
“Hey, hey! Don’t cry!” the other sprite boy panics, rushing to Junmyeon’s side and spreading a green-colored sheet over him. Junmyeon begins to calm down; the fragrance of the blanket seems to tranquilize him.
Junmyeon rubs the tears off his eyes and turns to the other sprite. “Hello. I’m Yixing, a sprite of the seaweed,” the sprite boy says, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon to give him more warmth.
Blinking, Junmyeon replies, “I’m Junmyeon. S-sprite of the r-rice.”
“Hey! Chef, this one’s ready to go!” a voice booms through the kitchen. Suddenly, the platter in which Yixing and Junmyeon are on is being lifted and loaded into the conveyor belt.
“Where are we going?” Junmyeon asks in confusion.
Yixing smiles comfortably at him. “To a place that’s warmer than here.”
第三部 :: break and ache。
☆ basically me going ( ＾◡＾)っ✂❤
∞ he would stay。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Angst (separation); PG; 210 words
☆ This was supposed to be a… Thing… for me to use against Coney. Originally intended as a torture device along the theme of Kevin (Li) → Junmyeon ← Kevin (Shin), but I ended up being the one suffering instead HAHAHAHA. I couldn’t continue this anymore, so this will be filed here for safekeeping purposes. Originally posted here.
On that night, when the stars scintillate and hushed wishes drip from the sky, he plants a kiss on the sleeping male’s forehead, so softly as if it’s not going to be the last of them, but only the last one before a battle that he himself is uncertain when to end, when to return, whether he can return victorious or not. What he’s only certain about is that it would be a bloody battle, where deep wounds would be inflicted and pain would seep and eat his senses as the blades pierce his flesh.
Seeing Junmyeon sleeping so soundly like this, so vulnerable despite the guardian facade and the armor of an invincible boy that he exhibits when his eyes are open, makes Yifan want to stay and hold him until dawn comes.
If only he had the patience as wide as the sky, the endurance as unbreakable as steel, and the vision to see the beauty in the little things despite the cruelty of the world (For these are the qualities that, undeniably, comprise Junmyeon. How he wishes he could extend his perspective, and see Junmyeon everywhere he goes; it would be enough, it should be enough.), he would stay.
(He would stay. But alas, he could not.)
∞ the sparks in your eyes, fading。
→ EXO: Kris/Suho; Angst; PG; 255 words
☆Originally posted here.
He beams at you, eyes shining bright and full of sparks that you wish you’d be able to catch and keep in your hands. Your heart thumps wildly inside your chest, and you find yourself battling for air. The guilt begins to swell inside your rib cage, as if every small breath you take makes everything harder for you to look back at him. You want to kiss him, right there, right now because damn Kim Junmyeon stop making things harder for me.
(Stop making it harder for me to let go and run away. Stop making it harder for me to leave you behind. Stop making me want to stay.)
And so, instead of holding his tiny face with your enormous hands, you resist the urge to kiss him, and have chosen to keep your hands close to yourself.
"A little fan service won’t hurt," he says, as he grins so widely you can’t help but smile back at him.
(What he doesn’t know is that it hurts; it hurts because this would be the last time that the world would see how much he loves you without knowing the truth behind your relationship. This would be the last time you would be able to see him with those eyes full of love and happiness, before they would be replaced with sadness and anger, because he still doesn’t know that the love of a Little Prince like him is a rose with thorns that can pierce his soul if he grips it too tightly.)
☆ happy holidays, everyone!