challenged myself to make drabbles out of the randomly-picked prompts by a random generator. these drabbles are in no way associated with my previous or my upcoming fics, and will (probably) not be continued for a sequel or anything. enjoy!
model au, mentions of their mama powers; pg-13 (754 words)
sehun doesn't understand why he agreed to zitao's request for him to come here in the first place.
sehun slinks in between the crowd, muttering under his breath as someone almost knocks him and his camera down. indigents, he curses. humans are such indigents.
(it's not like he cares about his camera anyway. but it's the only excuse for him to go there.)
after arching his body to bow to his 'fellow' photographers, who admit to have seen him before (funny, sehun thinks, humans are just so dumb, but he bows anyway for formalities.), he brushes past a group of giggling girls and swears he can hear wanna bet? i'll have him on my bed tonight, and you're going to get me fifty bucks for that. sehun tries not to scowl.
he came to this fashion show for other purposes, and those purposes definitely does not include banging a girl for a one-night stand.
sehun sighs as his leather pants-clothed ass hits the comfort of the chair with a paper printed with "oh sehun; photographer" taped recklessly onto its back, reclining his head and huffs up to blow at his bangs. he mentally slaps himself when remembering that he has his hair styled up for this event.
and again, sehun doesn't understand how he gave up so easily to zitao's sweet talk of how about styling up your hair? that day. sehun remembers retorting with a no, but gives up after zitao's promise of i'll reward you if you do anyway.
sehun doesn't even understand what is there on this planet--on this ground--that has infatuated zitao to come down and live in it. all he finds on earth is only the mild amusement the humans give to him. isn't it better to stay up there, be a god and laugh at everyone struggling after he snaps a finger to create whirlwinds?
lights around him suddenly dim and sehun fumbles with his camera. the blinding spotlight shoots straight to the stage, and oh this better be good, sehun thinks, as he follows the other photographers and lifts his camera for good measures.
the first model comes out moments after, propping on him a pair of white trousers, a silver sequins shirt (it looks exceptionally good on him), and a broken white coat serving as the outerwear. little accents in the form of hexagon badges are pinned here and there, their glossy surface reflecting the lights and camera flashes as the man struts to the center stage to strike a dashing pose which brings most of the female audience scream to oblivion.
(sehun learns that the blonde-haired model is named yifan. sehun thinks he's hot, too.)
he sinks down in his seat as the second, third, and fourth model walk on the stage, and as the bloodcurdling female shrieks ring in his ears in rhythmic intervals.
he mentally tallies a point to his reasons not to agree to huang zitao anymore list.
he almost falls back sleeping on his chair when the fifth model comes out, and he can hear himself exhaling an audible gasp.
the attire the model is wearing doesn't exactly stand out from the others' (the outfits are painstakingly identical), but jesus, sehun gapes, running his gaze up and down and back up again.
white trousers, black printed shirt, white coat, hexagon pins, all still similar. but as his eyes meet the sight of jet-black messy hair, curvy lips, and smoldering gaze, immediately does he know that this time, it's a whole different matter.
beneath the blitz and shimmering lights, zitao's the one who shines so bright.
sehun is fully aware of the sudden rush of heat inside his pants.
and when zitao's eyes linger and their gazes lock, sehun sees the man's lips curving up into a smirk, almost too happy seeing sehun there (with a plus point of his up-did hair).
he doesn't know whether zitao is using his power on purpose, but all motions and sounds seem to dim out of his senses, coming into a halt, and his world is now only focused on zitao. the latter smiles. good boy, sehun sees zitao mouthing. you'll get your promised reward soon.
everything happening around him resumes after that, and sehun swears he can still see zitao’s smirk as he continues to walk to the center stage.
sehun hopes the reward zitao meant was sloppy kisses and mapping veins behind the backstage's dressing room door.
kris/luhan; social networking
trainee!au; g (648 words)
(and a little fluffy luhanxzitao if you squint closer tbh but ok)
luhan sprawls down on the wooden floor along with eleven others, refuses to go on a ritualistic stampede of who gets their water bottle last is a pain in the groins game the others had come up with, and reaches out for his iphone instead.
zitao flops down beside him, offering him his water bottle. luhan immediately scoots closer to pillow his head on the comfort of zitao’s thighs before gulping down the mineral water, sighing as the cold liquid trickles down in contact with his parched throat.
feeling not entertained, luhan spares the training room a glance. minseok and joonmyun are taking turns to fan each other, the others too tired to even move, while chanyeol, baekhyun, and jongin are trying to make a sloppy rendition of a human tower. a smile emerges from his lips as he clicks his phone camera shutter, taking a picture of the others to post to twitter.
(he considers taking a pouting selca with zitao too, for good measures. everyone loves how zitao looks so cutely adolescently manly, as the latter proclaims to him one day, quite the contrary with luhan’s long hair and feminine features.)
(his followers had started to pair both trainees as the hanzi, luhan-zitao pairing and luhan decides not to know about that.)
“ah~ so tired~~! fifteen minute break, such a blessing~!! ^^ do i look tired and unhealthy? :<” he types a simple message, attaching both photos and double-checks his spelling before hovering his thumb to the post tweet button. he doesn’t even need to wait ten seconds to have his mentions flooded with oh my god, please rest well!!s and practice well and eat lots of healthy food, i love you!s from his followers. he smiles knowingly.
a snort is heard from across the room, and luhan immediately finds his gaze fixated with yifan’s, who is staring at his phone screen (probably he saw his tweet), and holding back a stifled laughter. luhan smirks.
“yifan is laughing at me. meanie（ｉДｉ）”, luhan types to his phone.
another snort erupts and luhan giggles.
“yifan is so mean! how dare he laugh at my luhan!!” ; “aww, cheer up, luhan-oppa! ugh yifan is a such meanie :<” ; “i’m going to kick yifan in the butt.”
luhan rolls over to bury his face in the fabric of zitao’s sweatpants and laugh. his phone dings.
LOOK AT WHAT YOUR FANS SAID ABOUT ME.
aw dun call them fans i’m so down 2 earth i prefer calling them as ~*~*~luhan enthusiasts~*~*~
cos i kno u have no fan im just trying 2 b considerate
i’m going to kick you right in the butt.
COPYRIGHT 2 ONE OF THE LUHAN ENTHUSIASTS
U CAN’T JUST TAKE IT OUT LYK DAT
U CAN’T JUST DO THAT TO MY ~*~*~LUSIASTS~*~*~
wow you suck pls come with a better name
more like lucifer
dude that’s not even funny
failURE YIFAN WITH NO SENSE OF HUMOR
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SUCK DAT BITCHFACE
SUX 2 BE U WU YI PUNK
......act your own age, asshole.
“and just now he texted and calls me an asshole. uuuuu yifan is such a meanie, sadfaces ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<;)･ﾟﾟ･｡”
his notifications chime with another round of flooded mentions. he scrolls down to one of the replies.
“crYING JUST WHY OMG LUHAN BABY R U OK WIPES UR TEARS um ok if you’ll excuse me brb i’m going to dissemble yifan with a chainsaw now bye”
luhan erupts with laughter, leaving an annoyed yifan and a confused zitao alone with their train of thoughts.
minseok/kyungsoo; home away from home
for wayverly, i posted this before (1,028 words)
“remind me why we’re all sharing a room again”, minseok deadpans, eyeing his now-crowded shared bedroom with zitao after a little round trip to the bathroom. zitao is already there on minseok’s bed, limbs sprawling above the crumpled bedsheets, fiddling with his phone. kris is busy sitting on minseok’s dresser, coating his face with at least eleven different beauty products, and luhan is just being luhan, sitting on the floor all dressed in elephant-printed pajamas while hugging a bolster.
“our aircon broke down”, luhan states matter-of-factly. “and jongdae snores.”
“but where do i sleep.”
“i’ll lend them my bed”, zitao says, eyes fixated on his phone. a giggle comes soon after (minseok wonders if zitao is texting with sehun.) “since you probably won’t let them use yours.”
“and you’ll share your bed with me tonight, obviously”, zitao adds before minseok can retort. he sighs.
he has a lot in his mind tonight and all he wanted to do was to lay on bed and think them all out alone, but he doesn’t have the heart to say it.
half an hour later, they are all snuggled up inside their blankets. zitao gives him slight privacy by turning away from him and continues fiddling with his iphone. kris immediately cuddles with luhan under the sheets, gaining a little smile from the older before he snuggles into a comfortable position inside kris’ warm embrace. a series of rhythmic breathings follows not long after.
minseok watches them silently, sighing to himself. he tries to remember how it feels when kyungsoo’s arms envelope him back in time.
kyungsoo. kyungsoo is always tender touches, sweet smiles, and pure affection. he’s never good with words—he always fumbles with them—but minseok doesn’t mind. he’s perfectly fine with kyungsoo singing hushed lyrics to his ears than kyungsoo forcing himself to cite out lovely phrases. he’s also perfectly fine with kyungsoo tangling his fingers with his—every gap is a perfect fit—he’s perfectly fine with kyungsoo just communicating with touches and not words because kyungsoo is just kyungsoo and minseok understands.
(minseok thinks that everything is fine as long as he has kyungsoo by his side.)
we’re such star-crossed lovers, minseok remembers saying to kyungsoo that day. kyungsoo was mapping constellations on his back, and minseok closed his eyes at the sensation. do you think we’ll work out?
what do you mean? kyungsoo sing-sang, fingers still tracing circles on minseok’s back absentmindedly. minseok raised a brow, a little perplexed.
well, i’ll promote with the m members in china, when you and the k guys stay in korea. is this…relationship, between us, going to work out like that? minseok turned around, expecting to meet kyungsoo’s eyes, but kyungsoo had also turned flat on his back to face the ceiling.
star-crossed lovers, kyungsoo chuckled. minseok didn’t get how kyungsoo manage not to sound wary. that’s a beautiful way to put it.
minseok sighed before facing the ceiling as well, letting his eyes wonder on the monotonous white-painted surface. the reality is not as beautiful as its name, unfortunately.
kyungsoo hummed as a reply. minseok waited for him to continue, but no words came after that.
are we going to work out? minseok started. because i’m not planning to lose you.
a pause enveloped them before kyungsoo heaved out. you won’t.
minseok rolled closer to kyungsoo, burying his face on kyungsoo’s clothed chest because a part of him didn’t want kyungsoo to worry, yet another side of him didn’t want kyungsoo to blatantly show that he doesn’t care, either. because kyungsoo is important to minseok and minseok wants him to be beside him forever but their life is not a fairytale where they can always have happy endings and sweet kisses over a plate of pancakes.
(that but mostly because minseok didn’t want kyungsoo to see him cry.)
we have to do something, minseok murmured against kyungsoo’s shirt, and kyungsoo continued with ruffling the older’s hair. we have to do better than this.
what do you want me to do, kyungsoo asked.
and then minseok felt all melancholy, various emotions appearing in his mind. he knew this is ridiculous and sound a little selfish but minseok just couldn’t bear to imagine kyungsoo being with someone else, when he’s going to be miles away and timezones apart and whatever he’ll do, he wouldn’t be able to stop him.
i don’t know, i just—, minseok sighed. i love you. all i need from you is for you to love me back.
kyungsoo stopped running his fingers down minseok’s hair, all but pulling minseok closer in his arms. he tangled their limbs under the bedsheet, and the warmth kyungsoo radiated made a droplet of tear brim visibly on minseok’s eyes. kyungsoo buried his face on top of minseok’s head, inhaling the sweet scent of honey with a tinge of strawberries. silly, he said, and minseok’s heart twitched at what came after that. haven’t i been doing that all along?
minseok didn’t get how he could perfectly picture kyungsoo smiling.
(he cried on kyungsoo’s chest that night, and fell asleep with the sound of kyungsoo’s rhythmic breathing and the sweet promise the latter said before going to sleep.
everything will work out, i promise.)
a pellet of tear drops on minseok’s pillow, startling him from his train of thoughts. he has lived up to the promise kyungsoo made, the phrase acting like a spell when everything doesn’t feel right. because minseok knows that kyungsoo would strive and work for the best, and the unspoken commitment between them makes him want to do the same.
he suddenly hears a soft chuckle beside him—it turns out that zitao is still preoccupied with his phone. minseok peeks above zitao’s shoulder, and sees a line of goodnights and i love yous and another line of happy emojis. sehun.
minseok heaves out a shaky breath.
he falls asleep that night, to the sound of zitao’s soft breathing, and to his attempt to try and remember what kyungsoo’s chuckle sound like.