minseok-centric coffee-au for hoseokjung :)
rated t for too cute
word count: 1,002
He had you at three extra shots please, a macchiato smile hinged between his ears, eyes like espresso shots, dark and swirling beneath chocolate-pumped lashes, thick and sweet. His voice swirled around your head like vanilla and foam, drizzled in caramel. He hit you like a caffeine high and by the time you were done taking his order, you were completely and utterly smitten.
i decided to write lil drabbles for each of them :D
rated e for everything good about life
word count: 1,151
He is mint green in the morning, because his shampoo is candy-apple, one of those rare times that the color matched it’s scent, but as soon as he hits the kitchen, he is draped in a light blue, the smell of warmth and cooking rice. After a particularly harsh dance practice, he is a muted amber, musky and panting, grinning as he dabbed at himself and you handed him a towel and a bottle of iced water. Your favorite, though, is the teal of his lip balm that he always uses too much of but no one minded because it smells so nice, and he’d always offer you some, but you would shake your head and smile because no one makes it look quite as good as he does.
prompt 01: beginning
rated t for tasty
word count: 626
for hoseokjung bc she hurts my soul
The first time he found your hand with his, Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone were sharing a heated kiss on screen, the popcorn nestled between his legs. You could’ve sworn you swallowed a mouthful of honey-bellied bees instead of popcorn, stomach buzzing up a storm, heat crawling up your skin, clawing down the ladder of your spine, the most wonderful kind of venom prickling through your bloodstream as his fingers grazed yours, knitting your hands together. It was like patching up ripped jeans——two halves meeting to make a whole again.
rated t for teen angst
word count: 701
namjoon-centric for the bae
There are nights when the stars are pin pricks in the sky that mock him with their light, nights when time sloshed by, coagulating around his ankles, submerging him slowly and completely, filling his ears with a silence so loud he couldn’t remember what it was not to hear. There are nights when the world cracked above his brows, the moon breaking through the windows, him helpless to do anything but open his mouth and let the yolk run down his throat.
Those are the nights he writes the most.
rated t for tremendously adorable
word count: 431
He comes back on cold nights, shivering from head to toe, teeth clattering so loudly he swears he’d wake up the entire house and by the entire house, he means you. He kicks off his shoes and breathes out, kicking the door closed behind him, basking in the quiet of the dark house. The clock on the wall always scolds him for the time; he’s always late.