autoasphyxiation
Fandoms
- Stray Kids (Band) (13)
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Summary
The strong winds blowing from over the sea hit him in the face like frozen rain, and he can't help but shiver. The waves crash against the shore wildly, like an animal escaped from captivity. They die on the sand and crawl upwards, close to his bare feet. The sky holds no color, a stark white against the almost black waves.
He doesn't know how he got here, or why he's found himself on the shoreline, still dressed in his cheap work suit, but he doubts it's a dream. The cold wouldn't pierce through his clothes so mercilessly if he were dreaming.
or:
The moon and the sea spin a web of prophecy, Minho is the helpless insect caught within it.
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Summary
He takes a slow drag from the cigarette, admires the cherry of it as it burns, watches, enraptured as the smoke wafts from it, slowly floating towards the open air from the window.
Between drags, Jisung realizes that he does, in fact, miss his friend. It's been an embarrassingly long amount of time since they last talked, they swore they'd keep contact, but time works in mysterious ways, and Jisung guesses they just…grew apart, no hard feelings.
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The walls are thick, but with the door ajar, he can make out Minho's voice pretty easily, can hear their heavy breathing echoing into the hallway.
He blames his curiosity on his lack of sleep. Exhaustion does weird things to your brain after all.
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Summary
"Morning, hyung-ah." Jisung replies, curiously peering over his shoulder, attentively watching the older man cook. "How'd you sleep?"
"Wonderful, as always, Jisungie, I always sleep good when you're there to keep me warm." He cranes his neck to kiss some part of Jisung's face, whose hands have now strayed further underneath his shirt, pinching the soft flesh there. He looks like he wants to say something, Jisung doesn't know what to expect.
"I've got a surprise for you."
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Summary
The scent of blood hangs heavy in the closed air, pungent and all-encompassing, its flavor vivid in the back of Chan's throat.
The ivory shade of the kitchen tiles is obstructed by pools of thick, deep red liquid, it sloshes and squelches under the sole of his bare feet, splashing up to soak into his pants. His shaking hands are dripping with it, coating the sleeves of his shirt as well.
or:
Chan hungers, Minho is there to soothe it.
Recent series
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Summary
When trying to change each other's view on the seasons turns out way better than you'd expect it...
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