kficanon | part thirty

self-explanatory. snippets from stories you abandoned and will never finish.

ugh, too many to all post snippets of lmao

the curious case of benjamin button au, multiple the emperor's new groove aus, multiple heist aus, multiple hitman aus

i run out of steam w/ these long involved aus esp. when it's like the ~twilight~ hour of my time in a certain fandom and i just dgaf anymore

.... i need more deets on these multiple emperor's new groove aus omfg

multiple emperor's new groove aus oh my god ;~~~; which fandoms were they for so i can properly mourn?

AHAHAHA well one of them was not... for a kpop fandom? where harry was pacha and draco was kuzco and bellatrix and goyle were yzma and kronk, and i switched it up a bit so harry was still the village leader or w/e but he lived with ron and hermione who had the kids

the other was gtop and gd was kuzco, top was pacha, i guess yg would've been yzma (LOL) and idek about kronk (admittedly i didn't think this one through as carefully lmao)

presumably all of this would've been the most ridiculous of crack

Everything's different now, whispers coming more urgently at night, and while Jonghyun doesn't know when exactly it'll end, he does know it's soon.

He has Jinki pressed against the mattress, frustrations gripping him around the wrist, bringing him down until he has his face buried in Jinki's neck. His breathing is ragged, sobs threatening to make themselves audible. He's still for a moment, but feels Jinki shift from underneath him, arms coming around to wrap around his back.

“Jonghyun?” Jinki asks, voice vibrating against the back of his head.

“It's nothing,” Jonghyun says, struggling to control himself. He looks up to press his lips against Jinki's, covering any further attempts at conversation. He feels the question burning at the back of Jinki's throat, but he he presses deeper.

They don't dare come near him this night, not when he has his fingers at the back of Jinki's neck, body below his touches. They watch him, but Jonghyun tries to bury those thoughts, throwing them away and instead focusing on how Jinki's back arches when he begins to let his kisses trail, slipping a hand underneath Jinki's shirt. Jinki's beautiful, he thinks, and Jonghyun doesn't want to leave.

and

When a tongue slips inside his mouth, Jinki knows he has to put a stop to it.

“Jonghyun.” He attempts to be stern, moving his face away from Jonghyun's mouth, but his words end up sounding like a breathy moan instead. He hears a grunt of recognition and knows that bite Jonghyun makes on his collarbone means that he’s heard him.

“No, Jonghyun,” Jinki tries again, this time managing to not sound like he’s enjoying it. A hand fists itself in his hair, and Jinki has to reach up to disentangle it before pushing Jonghyun away.

Jonghyun is panting, eyes dark and lips red. He lifts his arm to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, and his eyes attach themselves to Jinki, the question much too prominent. Jinki fidgets, now suddenly aware of his disheveled appearance; his shirt is halfway unbuttoned, hair no doubt a mess, and he uncomfortably pats it down.

“I—” Jinki's at a loss for words. He gestures wildly to himself, to his wrinkled shirt and the unbuttoned clasp on his jeans (which he quickly fixes), and looks expectantly at Jonghyun. “Just, what are you doing?”

Jonghyun raises an eyebrow, letting out a bark of laughter. “What do you mean, what am I doing? Isn't it obvious?” He inches closer to Jinki, and Jinki, afraid, takes a step back. “Look, hyung, this isn't the right time.”

Jinki's back meets the wall again, and this time he has to be swift in order to escape from underneath Jonghyun's arm. He quickly looks for an escape route, but decides that that would not be the best option. Turning, he faces Jonghyun with a strained smile and says, “Okay, let's talk this out.”

Jonghyun frowns at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You're kind of ruining the mood here, hyung.”

“What mood?” Once the words come out of Jinki's mouth, he winces at how high pitched they sound. “Jonghyun,” he starts more calmly. “I'm sorry, but I don't see any mood here.”

“Okay,” says Jonghyun slowly. “Look, if you didn't want to do it right now, you could have just said so. We can do it any other time.”

i'm cringing so much reading this

jongyu ; ;

He's suddenly self-conscious. The place is clean, of course it's clean, and he's positive all his porn and sex toys are hidden away in their rightful places. That's not it. It's not necessarily that he's ashamed of what he might be showing. He's just kind of afraid of what he's not showing.

"Your house is nice," Dongwoo says.

Hoya looks down at the utensils in his hands. "It was my grandmother's." It's a simple fact, but he says it like an explanation, an excuse. He knows, even as he says it, that he shouldn't have to apologize for it, shouldn't have to feel ashamed. It's just a house. It's just furniture.

But somehow, he is. Ashamed.

It smells old in here, he knows -- like old wood and stale linens. His curtains are all made of lace; there's dust on the lampshades, the picture frames, the plants.

He's never been embarrassed by the place before, never thought it something to be embarrassed about. But somehow, this is embarrassing. Because Dongwoo is cool and modern and interesting. And this is anything but.

It's been a long time since anyone had been here that hadn't been here a hundred times before. His father; his friends; his nearest neighbor, delivering fresh peaches from their tree in the backyard. When was the last time he brought a guy back here? And when he did, did he care about what he thought? It's been years, he thinks.

He realizes, with a start, that it's been awhile since he cared what someone thought.

oh this is nice :o where were you going to take this anon?

ty. this was part of a muuuuch longer story that i was writing for my secret santa, but i decided it was too boring and scrapped it. it was a pretty typical boy-meets-boy kind of thing, hoya is a sheltered country boy afraid of taking risks and burdened by a sense of duty to his family, along comes city boy dongwoo who forces him out of his shell, blah blah blah blah. it had some nice scenes and i liked some of my ideas about hoya's character but ultimately it just wasn't something i would have been able to finish given my complete disinterest in writing love stories like this. u___u

well if this is something that you've scrapped then i can't wait to read your finished product *___* maybe you'll be able to use the scenes/hoya's character in a different story! good luck with finishing your ss, i'm rooting for ya~

wow i just made the ugliest wincing/cringing face

shit this was meant for the exo fic i'm so sorry lmao /o\

don't expect much pls lol. ty for your support though, qt nonnie~ :*

Three weeks into the semester, Baekhyun starts to get this is distinct feeling of being pursued, what’s with Kyungsoo inviting him to lunch almost every day even though their classes are half-way across the campus from each other. On the other hand, Jongin sits close and is more handsy than entirely necessary as Baekhyun helps him with his assignments. While Baekhyun doesn’t particularly mind, he also tries to not read too much into things. It doesn’t escape him how Kyungsoo sometimes shows up to meetings wearing the sweater he’d seen on Jongin last week or how Jongin’s notebook is filled with what he knows to be Kyungsoo’s handwriting, organized neatly into boxes and bullet points.

That's precisely the reason why he doesn't feel a twinge in his heart when he finds them making out on the couch at Lu Han and Yixing’s party that weekend. Instead, he stays occupied by drinking himself stupid while trying to keep Chanyeol’s sloppy hands off the tall, angry-looking upperclassman from Chanyeol’s Legal Philosophy class.

i totally didn't try to write threesome-at-a-college-party drunk after a college party. nope.

aah, i miss college

anon i need this in my life ;--;

Seunghyun gives Jiyong a once over. "You look like a classy woman," he says.

Jiyong laughs as he takes the cigarette from his mouth. "Classy women don't smoke." He exhales.

"American women do."

Jiyong snorts. "You watch too many movies, hyung."

it was gonna be about how hot top thinks ladyji is but this is all that happened. =/

ugh pls continue :'(

Hoya hardly ever speaks whenever the cameras turn off because he’s either on his phone, scrolling through the messages Inguk knows his manager constantly sends or gulping down water for his throat or carefully flipping through the script.

“It’s the concert,” Hoya tells him in passing once. “Infinite’s concert. They constantly remind me I’m an idol before an actor,” he says and it is with a smile and that same calm, measured tone. Inguk used to live by the sea, before Seoul and these cameras, back in Ulsan.

Hoya’s voice reminds him of home.

Hoya also arrives on location in a van with dark windows and a quiet engine and he is very often the last to arrive and the first to leave. He’s also the one with the darkest circles under his eyes, before the concealers and brighteners and lighting.

“Tired?”

“It’s an opportunity,” Hoya replies, then smiles.

Inguk scratches at his finger absentmindedly as he holds Hoya’s gaze.

He wakes up early one morning and there it is, on his finger.

It’s plain and inconsequential enough: the sight of a thin red string tied tightly around the little finger on his left hand.

He tries following it, because it snakes around his small apartment and under his front door and winds down the road and Inguk walks until he remembers it’s close to two in the morning and he needs to be up by seven for filming tomorrow.

The strangest thing is that when he tugs at it, his heart hurts. It’s not physical or a sort of pain brought on by what he would expect an arrhythmia to feel like. Instead, it twinges and it floods Inguk with a devastating sort of loss and since that moment on, he does not toy with the string.

He thinks he understands what this is.

When he arrives at set that day, the circles under his eyes darker than usual, he realises he can see thin, red strings tied to the fingers of every person. They tangle around their feet and they surround the bases of the large film cameras and his own string seems to be lost in the sea of red. It is too fine to trip over and people don’t seem to notice so Inguk keeps silent until Hoya arrives.

“Morning,” he says brightly and Hoya smiles softly at him.

“Morning,” he replies, and yawns.

Inguk takes this time to look at the string around Hoya’s finger but there is no way he can make out if it is connected to his own – it melts into the red by their feet and Inguk can’t stop the disappointment from showing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Inguk shakes his head. “Nothing. Are you nervous? Today is the day we film with dogs.”

“Puppies,” Hoya corrects him. “And no, I’m not nervous at all. I raised puppies with Infinite for a reality show.”

I know, Inguk wants to say, I watched it. “Do you see it?”

Hoya doesn’t get a chance to reply because the director yells at everyone to take their places before Inguk can elaborate. Hoya walks first but he turns around, his expression a silent What? Inguk stares at the way his eyebrows are upturned, at the curve of his mouth, at if this is what he’d see if he leans in for a kiss.

Inguk catches himself in time and shakes his head, but it doesn't matter. Hoya has already turned around.

oh my gooodnessssssssssss red string of fate and hoya/inguk and fresh wave of sentimental r97 feelings i love love love unreciprocated hoya/inguk from inguk's pov and this is so lovely anon, really ; ; i wish this weren't in the abandoned stories thread

i might continue with this seeing that hoguk ranking video but i have no direction for it so it's just floating around like this ;_; ty though and i wish more hoguk fics exist - not junhee/yoonjae, but hoguk

lmao i just found this the other day, a catlady heechul thing that i wrote on kpopficwank or something equally ancient...

There is one house on Taemin's paper route that scares him so much that he can't even make it all the way to the front steps. He just tosses the paper from the curb and leaves it where it lands, then straddles his bike and pedals and pedals until he stops feeling like somebody is chasing after him.

The kids at school say that a witch lives there and, if you get too close, she'll turn you into a lawn gnome, which is why there are so many of them lumped in strangely sickening piles on her front yard. They look like funeral pyres and they make Taemin uncomfortable.

One morning, as he's about to shot-put the latest paper somewhere close to the witch's door, he sees a note taped the mailbox and he's paralyzed. Because it seems to be addressed to him.

“Dear Paperboy,
You're the chosen one!
Sincerely, KHC.”

Then he just starts running, leaving his bike collapsed against the sidewalk with its front wheel spinning.

part thirty

itt: abandoned stories

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