fluffsik-writes

[fluffsik-writes]

This comment made me smile so much!!  I’m so happy you enjoyed it, and am pretty sure you’re an angel for writing such wonderful, enthusiastic and detailed comments for my and others’ fics :’)

Lights, Camera, Action

Ship:  Rabin Warnings:  None Characters: Wonsik, Hongbin Word count:  1,521 Cross post:  ao3 | aff Notes:  Inspired by the recent Nylon photoshoot.

As a lighting assistant for photoshoots, Wonsik prided himself on being cool-headed, adaptable, professional. Getting called in to sub as a hand model wouldn’t normally throw him–but add in the Most Gorgeous Human Alive, and all bets were off.

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[fluffsik-writes]

I feel like I blinked and suddenly I hit what, for me, is a huge milestone.  I’ve had this sideblog for years and most of that was with under ten followers.  I’m so happy for the response to my latest fic (five times the previous one!!) and really appreciate each and every person who clicks like or decides to follow.  Thank you so much!!

[fluffsik-writes]

Lights, Camera, Action

Ship:  Rabin Warnings:  None Characters: Wonsik, Hongbin Word count:  1,521 Cross post:  ao3 | aff Notes:  Inspired by the recent Nylon photoshoot.

As a lighting assistant for photoshoots, Wonsik prided himself on being cool-headed, adaptable, professional. Getting called in to sub as a hand model wouldn't normally throw him--but add in the Most Gorgeous Human Alive, and all bets were off.

“Cancelled?  What do you mean he cancelled?”

“Just that, sir, apparently he found a better--”

“No, no I don’t want to hear why.  I want to hear how we’re going to do this shoot with only one model.  What do you expect him to do, hold his own face?”

Just another bickering conversation to ignore, like a dozen others before them today alone. Wonsik frowned at the angle of the lamps and shifted one a few millimeters. The lighting director for the photoshoot was too caught up in arguing to bark his instructions, but Wonsik didn’t mind taking charge himself. He wouldn’t always be an assistant, after all. Wonsik began to hum under his breath as the argument behind him continued. He was used to tuning it out. Helping with photoshoots may be an interesting life, but it could be a bit...dramatic. At least he generally didn’t work directly with the models--from what he’d seen, “dramatic” didn’t begin to cover it.

“Hey! You! Uh, what’s your assistant’s name? Kim Wonsik! Let me see your hands.”  

Suddenly the photographer was next to him, palm extended and staring expectantly up at him. Wonsik just blinked down from his perch on the stepping stool before automatically offering his own hand. The photographer snatched it up before turning it this way and that, measuring the length of his fingertips against his own and frowning at the light callouses on his fingertips (while Wonsik’s brain raced to rewind the conversation he’d ignored, searching for context of what on earth).  

The photographer released him with an appraising grunt. “You’re right, he does have pretty hands. Good enough.”

“Uh, thanks...?”

“Well come on, hurry up! We’re getting a late start.”

He turned away and motioned to the set, where one model already waited.  

Oh.  

Wonsik wobbled precariously on the stool, clutching at the light stand for balance. Shadows danced and swayed over the model’s face.

OH.

You saw a lot of gorgeous people in this line of work. Wonsik was convinced he was pretty used to it by now, desensitized even. Certainly not the kind of person who would fall off a stool or have a heart attack or stare bug-eyed and slack-jawed at the newcomer. Nope, not him.  

Wonsik found himself being dragged off the stool and towards the vision of beauty waiting calmly by the set. He couldn’t quite place a finger on what convinced him he’d turn to ash if he got too close: soft brown hair carefully styled to look a little disheveled, wide doe eyes, delicate features that were somehow both soft and chiseled all at once. Surprisingly, Wonsik did not vaporize as the photographer dragged him over. Then the man beamed at him (dimples springing up in his cheeks) and Wonsik casually forgot how to breathe.  

“Hello!  I’m Lee Hongbin. Thanks for working with me today.”

Right, names were a thing. “Kim Wonsik,” he croaked. Some part of his brain was trying to remind him that staring was rude, but that part of his brain wasn’t providing any helpful suggestions of how to stop.

“Come on, we’re running behind,” snapped the photographer, and snatched Wonsik’s hand up again. Then came a barrage of instructions, and Wonsik forced himself to stop self-destructing over the proximity to the Vision of Beauty (Lee Hongbin, that little scrap of his brain reminded) and pay attention. The instructions ended with the photographer herding them into place--Hongbin standing facing the cameras, Wonsik crouched awkwardly to one side with an arm extended up towards Hongbin’s face. Gripping his jaw. No big deal.  

Even the sensible scrap of his brain was imploding now.

“Good, good, perfect!  Now stay just like that.” The storm in the photographer’s face was replaced by excitement now as he rushed back to his camera.

Wonsik waited through the first few clicks of the camera, trying not to think of how impossibly soft his skin felt against his own rough fingertips. He tried not to look up in case he got trapped staring again; he didn’t want to seem too obvious here (too late said that unhelpful corner of his mind). But now the photographer was calling for them to change up the pose, and Wonsik had no choice but to look up to make sure he didn’t poke the model’s eye or something. His heart rate stuttered. It was even worse from close up. He was greeted by a perfect view of the impossibly sharp jaw and the way his adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed. He couldn’t see his eyes well from where he sat, but the light caught in the man’s long lashes was lethal enough. Breathe, breathe. He was a professional.  

A third pose, then another, then another. Wonsik fought back the twisty feeling in his stomach by focusing on the difference between the instructions called out to him and to Hongbin. The photographer made sure to keep his mechanical--cup his cheek, now, thumb along the jawline, now, grip a little tighter. Hongbin got give us more fire and show me vulnerable and seduce the camera (Wonsik made sure to look away for that one, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from heating up). The photographer barked more directions--as Wonsik looked up to adjust his grip, Hongbin obediently swept his eyes closed and parted his lips and suddenly Wonsik understood the true meaning of “internal screaming.” Well, shit, now he couldn’t look away. Could his lips be as soft as they looked? The new pose had his thumb so close. He let it drift just a molecule closer, just a bit--

--Hongbin’s face turned ever so slightly and suddenly the pad of his finger was resting on the model’s parted lips, halfway to being in his mouth.

Shit.  

“Oh! That’s perfect! Keep it just like that--good idea, Wonsik!”

He could feel his face burning up as he stared a hole into the floor. Okay, he wasn’t that much of a pervert, there’s no way he’d have gone so far-- Another glance upwards and the model just stood there, face as innocent as a face could look with a thumb working its way into his mouth. Internal screaming was more internal howling by now.

Wonsik wasn’t sure how he made it through the next few minutes. The photographer had him try a few similar poses--all with a thumb or a finger just shy of slipping into Hongbin’s mouth. Mercifully the end finally came, and with a mumbled gotta check something Wonsik stumbled away.  

The set was too small to hide, exactly, but there were enough screens and light poles he could pretend to work behind while he caught his breath. And tried to get his cheeks to turn some other color than tomato-red.  

“Hey~”

Wonsik bit back a yelp, once again wobbling precariously on his stool. “L-lee Hongbin!” he wheezed.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” The man’s voice was playful, though his eyes were apologetic. “I just wanted to say thanks. It’s hard to land jobs these days, and they’d have had to cancel me today if you didn’t help.”

“Having a hard time landing jobs?  You?!” It came out a bit more shrill than Wonsik meant, and he bit his lip. “I-I mean, uh, you seemed like you had a lot of experience.”

“I like photography myself, so I’ve studied it a lot.” Hongbin rubbed the back of his head, smile sheepish, and Wonsik’s stomach did a weird flip-flop. Cute. “But you did great today. Could I buy you some coffee as thanks?”

The stool wobbled dangerously again (why was he still on this thing??) and time and space screeched to a halt. Did he just…? Luckily, the sensible part of his brain resurrected enough to scream say something, you idiot at him before shriveling again. “Y-yeah!  Yeah, I’d love to. Maybe you could, um, show me some of your photography.” Wonsik winced, but Hongbin’s eyes lit up.

“Really..? You’d want to see it? Ah, maybe just a couple pictures, it’s not that good…”

Somehow seeing the other man flustered did wonders for calming him down. So he was human after all, not just an incarnation of the Sun or a god of beauty or anything. “So, coffee,” he said, voice steady for the first time in hours. “Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

----

The results of the photoshoot weren’t out by then--despite all of the photographer’s raving about how perfect even the digital previews were, there were always editing processes after. It wasn’t until the third coffee date that Hongbin plucked the magazine from the stand at the coffee shop, grinning like a shark. “Well would you look at that.”

“H-hey!” Wonsik tried snatching it out of his hands, cheeks heating. “Isn’t that a bit, um, risque to just--  In public--”  

Hongbin just laughed. “I’m glad they picked this one for the cover. What an idea, Kim Wonsik.”  

"I already told you it was an accident!" he sputtered, but Hongbin just continued, smiling as innocent as ever.  

"Where did you come up with it...and what other ideas do you have kicking around in there? I'd love to give them a try."

[fluffsik-writes]

I’m a Ghost

Ship:  Navi (-ish) Warnings:  None Characters: Wonsik, Hakyeon Word count:  347 Cross post:  ao3 | aff

Concert rehearsal shenanigans.  Inspired by VIXX TV 2 ep. #19.

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[fluffsik-writes]

I’m a Ghost

Ship:  Navi (-ish) Warnings:  None Characters: Wonsik, Hakyeon Word count:  347 Cross post:  ao3 | aff

Concert rehearsal shenanigans.  Inspired by VIXX TV 2 ep. #19.

“Then slowly stand, act like you own everything.”  It was unnecessary advice, and Wonsik knew it--if there was any persona their leader knew how to wear, it was that.  If Hakyeon knew that he kept thinking just channel N during his performances, he’d never hear the end of it.  It just felt weird not give any input on how to mimic his own song, so input he gave.

Hakyeon looked up from coiling the prop leashes around his hand, grinning like a cat.  “I know, I’ve seen you practice a hundred times.”

He’d gotten the idea when a giggling Hongbin darted from member to member with a cell phone video--Hakyeon’s impassioned imitation of Ravi while the Ghost rehearsal blared in the background.  Followed, of course, but a tired but hyper Hakyeon all too eager to demonstrate a live version on the spot.  He was so ridiculous but so enthusiastic, and even as Wonsik laughed himself sick with the rest of them couldn’t help but ask if Hakyeon wanted to rehearse it himself, just for fun.

Which led them to now, to Hakyeon perching on the arms of the chair on stage, looking like he owned the world (and the jacket he’d nabbed from Wonsik sometime earlier in the night).

He should probably count that jacket a lost cause, just like the bag Hakyeon had “borrowed” months ago.  Wonsik cleared his throat, trying to focus.  “You’re supposed to sit down to start.”

Hakyeon pouted, but grudgingly crouched on the chair.

“Wonsikkie, go on, you’re in the way!”  Hongbin was already in place, camera in hand and grin threatening to swallow his face whole.  So much for all the talk about how he’d nearly gruesomely died of embarrassment filming his earlier video.

“Just let me get in place,” he called back, scooping up one of the leashes that trailed along the ground.

“What are you doing?” asked Hakyeon.

“It’s not the same without the dancers, trust me,” said Wonsik, doing his best to sound casual.  He fought back a blush as he fastened it to his collar.

[fluffsik-writes]

valentine's day update

for valentine’s day for my darling @charlotteconflicted, i am announcing that i will officially be continuing corpus delicti. please anticipate another chapter this week.

[fluffsik-writes]

Devotion To Duty

[DRABBLE]

pairing: wontaek notes: for @cafewontaek‘s #CafeWontaek214 writing event, Stay, Little Valentine word count: 204

Cupid and his target

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[fluffsik-writes]

omg I finally got a chance to read this and it's?? so hauntingly beautiful and poignant and I'm tearing up just from how pretty and poetic the words are, it's one of those "wow words can be SO BEAUTIFUL" moments that outstrip any visual media

I am so weak to star-related fantasy things, it's one of those things I used to daydream about but never really found a story that quite fit the feeling of it. But this is so much like that, that precarious delicate magic and cold beauty but with the warmth of the characters making it so emotional.

And I'll Pluck It From the Sky Just For You

[ONESHOT]

pairing: wontaek notes: my wrists are dying please save me words: 3,609

The starlight above shines brighter than before, blindingly so; the way it gleams on Wonsik’s skin makes it look like it was crafted of the stars themselves.

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[fluffsik-writes]

my heart is still (remembering) | Chapter 18

Title: my heart is still (remembering) Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Ravi/Hongbin Word Count: 1,260 (45,325 total so far) Warnings: Lots of swearing, depictions of a character having panic attacks, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, some (mostly non-graphic) blood and gore

Summary: He’s not a hero, and he’s not a spy. Really, he’s just a mechanic who nearly went crazy and got in over his head in order to cope.

Notes: What is this? An update? I’m really sorry for the 3-month-long hiatus, guys. I had a lot of life shit that I had to deal with and two of my siblings got married this summer, so things were hectic. But here’s a (slightly short) chapter, and there will be another next week for sure, and hopefully I can get in the habit of writing again so that the updates can continue. Thank you so much for your patience and please enjoy!

Read Here: Ao3 / Livejournal - Chapter One | Chapter Eighteen

[fluffsik-writes]

hello friends i have completely overturned my ficrec (and also updated it lmao), please take a look and tell me what u think :3c

[fluffsik-writes]

Diagnostic

Ship:  Leobin (gen-ish) Warnings:  None Characters: Hongbin, Taekwoon Word count:  1,051 Cross post:  ao3 | aff

Learning one of his oldest friends was not entirely human wasn't the shock it should be--when there's a friend to look after, the rest is just details. Vaguely sci-fi AU.

“Are you charging?”

Taekwoon didn’t raise his voice often--at least when not playing video games or shooing people out of the kitchen.  But some moments allowed for an exception.  Hongbin crouched by the desk with wires trailing from his neck to the wall was one of them.  Taekwoon rubbed his eyes and looked again (the maknaes did love their pranks), but there was no mistaking it. He was still dressed in gym clothes, and the low curve of the tank top’s neckline showed off broad shoulders and sharp collarbones and a socket at the top of his spine.  

Hongbin just stared up at him, mouth hanging wide and doe eyes turned deer-in-the-headlights.  “You...er…you said you were staying late at the practice room tonight.”

It seemed the randomest thing to say at the time, but Taekwoon’s brain latched onto the shred of normalcy.  “Only because you were badgering me about going to the gym again,” he whined. A long pause, nothing but Hongbin’s unblinking eyes meeting Taekwoon’s stare.  “Do you even go to the gym?”

Hongbin bristled, the first movement since Taekwoon walked in the door.  “Of course I do!  Hyuk goes with me all the time, you know that.  I just didn’t realize I was so low on….”  He faltered, trailing off.

The wheels in Taekwoon’s head were turning quickly.  A hundred questions tumbled one over another through his mind and nearly out of his mouth.  As little interaction as he’d (knowingly) had with cyborgs, he knew at least to not ask the first that came to mind: when.  Half-remembered stories of the miraculous recovery from surgery, years before they met, floated to mind and hinted that he might already know.  Shoving them back down, the next question in line was on the tip of Taekwoon’s tongue when he caught sight of the shamed look on Hongbin’s face.  

One, two long strides and before Hongbn could blink Taekwoon was across the room, kicking a pair of Wonsik’s shoes and one of Hyuk’s comic books away to crouch by his side.  Long fingers felt slowly over his shoulders, and Hongbin froze as they hesitated just short of the port on his spine.  His skin was cool to the touch, he knew--energy-saving mode didn’t bother to keep it heated to near-human temperatures.  “Are you low on energy often?”  Taekwoon’s voice was soft, suddenly, like he’d get around elders or cameras, and Hongbin’s shoulders eased under his hand.  

“Ah, hyung, you know we all get tired…” he faltered.

Taekwoon’s fingers were rubbing over his skin now, a rhythmic back and forth, back and forth just above one shoulder blade.  “What about water?  The time Hyuk pushed you in--”

“Only the oldest models aren’t waterproof.  Do I look like a scrap pile to you?” he scoffed.  His hand shook only a little as he poked Taekwoon’s stomach, earning a loud squawk.  “You should be worried for yourself.  He pushed you in three times.”

Taekwoon’s face wrinkled up at that.  “Brat,” he muttered under his breath.  He didn’t move his hand from its place on Hongbin’s shoulder, now just resting at the joining of his neck and shoulder.  “Stop encouraging him to work out.”

Hongbin responded with a triumphant smirk.  “Ah, but I’m always encouraging you to work out, too,  it’s not my fault you never come with us.”  

He earned a half-hearted neck-chop for that (a little lower than normal, to avoid the wires), but Taekwoon’s brow was furrowed in thought.  “Do you even need to exercise?”

“Well…”

“Or the rest of it?  Eating healthy, the tea, the vitamins--”  Taekwoon’s face scrunched up more and more as he spoke until he looked like he was about to sneeze, and Hongbin tried not to laugh.

“Do I ask you about your biological processes, hyung?” he snorted, rocking back on his heels.  Taekwoon’s face scrunched the rest of the way and pushed his shoulder, nearly sending him falling onto his butt.   

Taekwoon shifted, splaying his long legs in front of him before sitting cross-legged on the floor.  After a moment’s hesitation, Hongbin did the same.  “So you don’t have to do all this nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense!  It extends and enhances the quality of organic life!”

Taekwoon blinked at that.  “But you’re not…”

“Leading by example is the best way to get someone to do something, right?” Hongbin interrupted, looking away.  “Besides, I know what you’re like when you’re told what to do.”

Leo just grunted, getting that “about to sneeze” look on his face again.  “Whatever.”  

Hongbin looked down, biting his lip before going on.  “I guess it still seemed that way...”  His fingers fidgeted, weaving together as he stared at the floor.  “Lot of good it’s done.”

“It has.”  Taekwoon batted his hands.  

“Hm.”

“Hyuk working out with you, for one.”

Hongbin huffed a weak laugh.  “You’d think you’d hold that against me,” he said, and earned another shove from Taekwoon.

“You made sure Wonsik ate yesterday.”

Hongbin’s face softened.  “If I didn’t, someone else would have.”

“Wasn’t just then.  You think I don’t notice?”  The unsure look Hongbin gave him hinted that was exactly what he thought, but Taekwoon pressed on.  “And you always share your fruit with me--”

“--You mean you steal it?” Hongbin cut in, punctuating his words with a jab to Taekwoon’s belly as the other yelped in protest.  

“Wait--that’s part of it too?” he wheezed, rubbing his stomach.

“You make it too easy,” Hongbin gloated.  “Best way to get you to eat something, is to eat in front of you and wait for you to steal it.”

“Share it,” objected Taekwoon.

“Steal it.”  Hongbin poked again and Taekwoon grabbed his hand.  “The least you could do is wash the dish afterwards.”

“Anyway.  It’s not useless.  You’re not useless.”  Taekwoon didn’t let go of his hand, and Hongbin didn’t try to pull away.

“Ah, hyung, you’re going to make me cringe,” said Hongbin, but his face crinkled threateningly.  The grip on his hand tightened.  Behind them the charger beeped, the indicator light turning from orange to green, but Hongbin ignored it.

Taekwoon leaned over and pulled the plug from the wall.  “Come on, I’ll make ramen.”  The tone of voice brooked no argument, the sacred offer of the ultimate comfort food not to be denied by man or cyborg alike.

Just a random idea I couldn’t shake after the deluge of cute anecdotes we’ve been getting lately, along with a need for robot!vixx that isn’t soulwrenchingly tragic.  I hope you enjoyed--and always appreciate comments!

[fluffsik-writes]

raken prompt where ravi needs to summon a familiar to pass a test and accidentally summons jaehwan who happens to be the prince of hell in line for the throne

Wonshik has seen his life flash before his eyes a fair few time before— once when he accidentally spilled the potion Hakyeon spent two weeks brewing for his finals, or that one time he volunteered to help Taekwoon practice for his license and left vowing never to sit in the same car together ever again.

But not once has he ever seen all twenty-three years of his life go by in a blink of an eye only to find himself stuck in the most unlikely places of all: the headmaster’s office, with a literal prince of hell sitting in the creaky old chair by his side.

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[fluffsik-writes]

I just wanted to say With Us in Spirit was the first piece of your writing I've read and I really liked how you went about it!! It definitely makes me want to read more of your writing :)

SOBS thank you so much anon!!  ;-;  I’d be flattered if you read more, but either way I’m so happy you enjoyed it.

[fluffsik-writes]

With Us In Spirit

Ship:  Wontaekbin Warnings:  None Characters:  Hongbin, Wonsik, Taekwoon, Hakyeon, implied Hyuk Word count:  1,798 Notes:  Inspired by @wontaekbin‘s AU prompt thread Cross post:  ao3 | aff

A medium’s job was to help spirits move on.  It was only the right thing to do--they didn’t belong here, were a danger to themselves and others when they lingered.  But sometimes Hongbin couldn’t care less about how much he sucked at his job. 

“I’m not crazy, really I’m not.”  The man was pacing, restless hands twisting one over the other.  He was better-dressed than most of Hongbin’s clients, the slightly-disheveled suit a far cry from the usual sweatpants-and-t-shirts look most sported, but that didn’t stop Hongbin’s eyes from watching his feet as he went back and forth, back and forth.  Little bits of dried mud were getting on his carpet, and he’d grind it in at the rate he was going.

“I believe you, Mr. Cha,” Hongbin said with his second-brightest smile (some told him that his brightest smile was too distracting in situations like these).  “Hauntings in this area are rare, but they still happen, and that’s why I’m here to help.  ...Why don’t you sit down?”  

Mr. Cha stopped still (thankfully) and stared at him, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to how much sleep the ghost was letting him get at night.  “Do you think you can get rid of it?”  

They always worded it like this, like the guest was a wasp nest or infestation of termites.  Not the echo of some poor soul’s distress lingering in the physical world, a soul too lonely to leave the warmth of a nearby living being.  “Of course,” he said instead.

Only then did the man slump into the offered chair, limp and haggard as he dragged a hand through his hair.  “I...I hope that’s true…”  He paused to take the cup of tea Hongbin offered.  Some mediums liked to go all-out with the trappings of their office, beads and incense and all that, but Hongbin didn’t see the point of it.  People dealing with hauntings wanted away from anything remotely eerie, and found the simple but tastefully-decorated little office a welcome anchor to ghost-free reality.  Besides, beads were tacky and anything stronger than air freshener made his lungs seize up.  The ghosts themselves didn’t care either way.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mr. Cha, but you can rest easy soon.  I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Three cups of tea later and some small talk about the new bookstore that had opened a block away and his client was on his way, still rumpled and drawn but a little less jittery than before.  Hongbin drew a long breath.  The man had been one of his more polite clients that week, but it was too easy to pick up on their nerves.  Something about reminding him of how jumpy he’d been when he first started dabbling in all of this.

Hongbin grabbed the shoulder bag he kept stocked with necessities (matches, a spare inhaler, flashlights for the spirits that liked to mess with the power) and not-so-necessities (a medallion to soothe more superstitious clients) and started towards the door.  He frowned at the dried mud on the carpet, but it would have to wait.  

A rattling to one side halted him just short of reaching for the handle.  The coat rack was moving--wobbling in place despite the still air, slight at first but faster and faster until the rack was rocking violently back and forth, threatening to fling its coats to the ground with each tip.  Hongbin watched with crossed arms, nonplussed.  When one last tip threatened to knock the stand over completely, he caught it with one hand and grabbed the coat as it finally slipped towards the ground.

“I’m not going to forget my coat, Wonsik.”  

It’s snowing outside.  The words shaped themselves in his mind, along with a pout, somehow.  

Hongbin laughed, tugging the coat over his shoulders.  “I was the one always having to remind you to dress warmly, remember?  Like that time you wore a tank top to the haunting at the ice rink--”

The pout intensified.  Someone has to look out for you.  

Hongbin deflated.  “I’m okay, I promise.  I appreciate the thought.  Just...don’t worry.”  One hand twitched, as if to reflexively reach and touch--he clenched the hand into a fist.  Old habits die hard.  He gave a forced smile, the brightest kind.  “You’re supposed to be free of all worries now, remember?”

You act like worrying for you is a burden.  A sudden chill washed over him, but Hongbin smiled.  The sensation was familiar--the mortal and supernatural worlds brushing too close, a spirit and a living body touching.  Usually, a medium’s worst nightmare.  But in his world, he recognized it as Wonsik’s version of a hug.  Worrying about the snow, but you’re doing that? died on his tongue--the corporeal Wonsik fairly withered without touch, and the last thing he wanted to do was discourage him from the attempt.

Instead, Hongbin shot a sharp glance to the empty air.  “At least you waited until he left, this time.  Unlike last week.”

That was an accident!

“An accident that happened right when she started flirting with me.  If I didn’t know how clumsy you’ve always been, I wouldn’t believe it.”  

Laughter.  You know I don’t get jealous.  

Hongbin snorted.  “Speaking of which, where’s Taekwoon?  

Playing with the neighbor cats.  

“I should have known.  If he had his way before, I’m sure he would have spent all his time over there and let us solve cases on our own.”  It was the only way he could talk about before.  Quips, jokes.  Anything else made his throat tighten and his eyes burn--and long before that point, Wonsik would start crying (and make the power go out).  

But for now, there was just that little shiver of a laugh, a poor echo from the deep hearty voice it used to be.  She’s on vacation all week--I don’t think we’re going to be able to get him to leave.

“Well he’ll have to.  I have a kid he needs to talk to.”  Hongbin waved a beckoning hand and started towards the door.  

I can talk to kids too!  The imagined voice was nervous, excited--then faded into a bashful giggle as Hongbin turned the doorknob and stepped out the way with a little bow.  It was always worth the inward cringing Hongbin had to fight back each time.

The hallways of the building were always quiet this time of the evening, after the rush of thoroughly normal people went home after a day of thoroughly normal work.  Even so, Hongbin never risked talking aloud when outside his office.  One-sided conversations were weird enough to watch, and “I’m just having a conversation with the ghost of my boyfriend” wasn’t much better of an explanation.  You always get so nervous, Wonsik, he thought instead.  It’s like they smell your fear and mess with you even more.

You’d think they’d respect a senior ghost, Wonsik moped.

When they left the building, only the faintest dust of snowflakes was still falling, melting against the damp sidewalk as soon as they touched the ground.  Still, Hongbin shivered and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked.  Just outside the neighbor’s yard, he stopped short as something tugged at his scarf.

To the average person, invisible forces fussing with one’s clothes would be the stuff of nightmares, reason to plunge into a panic and (hopefully, for his bank account) hunt down someone like Hongbin to hire.  But Hongbin just stood, still and obedient, as the ends of his scarf lifted to loop again around his neck, then tuck into his closing jacket.  

“Hi, Taekwoon,” said Hongbin.  He could feel the pink in his cheeks rising and hoped the others would just chalk it up to the cold.  After all these years it wasn’t fair that he still got flustered around Taekwoon.

You’re going to catch cold.  The words forming in his mind were quiet and delicate, something even the most experienced mediums would strain to hear.

That’s what I was telling him!  Wonsik brushed against him again, and Hongbin tried not to hug the jacket tighter.

“Okay, okay, I’ll wear three jackets next time.”  Another little burst of giggles from Wonsik, and the leaves on the sidewalk spun and swirled without a breath of wind.  The tiniest little things always could set him off.

“So--Taekwoon?  I need your help with something--”

He’s not paying attention anymore, interrupted Wonsik.  And sure enough, a rustle in the bushes heralded half a dozen cats--fat, fluffy, slightly damp from the weather--crawling over the fence and  scurrying towards the sidewalk.  It would probably be kind of creepy to an onlooker, especially the way they suddenly curved to swirl around a pocket of empty air (except for the distracted kitten pouncing on the leaves).  To Hongbin, it was nothing short of nauseatingly cute.

“Ms. Park is going to be jealous,” he quipped.

They like me much more than Ms. Park.  An old tabby reared on its hind legs and purred.

More laughter, warm enough to soothe the sharp air biting at Hongbin’s ears.  Ideal, isn’t it?  Cats can see him but people can’t.  What more could a Taekwoon ask for?

Dogs.

Oh...it is too bad about the dogs...

The kitten quickly grew bored of the leaves and rubbed against Hongbin’s leg.  Hongbin hunched down and let it nuzzle against his hand, purring.  “This one likes me the best.”

No she doesn’t, came the sharp reply, and Hongbin just laughed.  Sure enough, the kitten broke away to pounce on a pine needle dragged by an invisible force across the path.

“A man visited today,” Hongbin began again.  “He told me all sorts of strange things.”

Sure enough, the pine needle stilled.  What kind of things?  Phrase it the right way, and even a cat-distracted Taekwoon was ever the attentive boyfriend, ready to listen to him ramble about his day.  

“His tv turns on by itself, there’s lots of banging and clattering whenever it’s quiet, designs will appear on dusty surfaces, like little doodles.  Except he keeps everything dusted, so something gets into his flour to throw it around and then doodles in it.”

It sounds like just a kid…  The tremor in Taekwoon’s voice showed Hongbin he had his full attention now.

“Sounds bored, doesn’t it?  Or lonely…”

--Can I go with you?  You know you’re useless with kids.

“Hey!  Whatever happened to asking nicely?”

It’s either me or you’re stuck with Wonsik.

Don’t be mean!

Hongbin just turned with a laugh, glancing at the setting sun.  “Come on, let’s go before the kid knocks down a wall or something.”

A medium’s job was to help spirits move on.  It was only the right thing to do--they didn’t belong here, were a danger to themselves and others when they lingered.  Everyone knew some cautionary tale or another of mediums who thought they could make exceptions.  But with a mind full of their chatter--now turned warm, Taekwoon fawning over Wonsik enough to make Hongbin cringe--he couldn’t care less about how much he sucked at his job.

[fluffsik-writes]

prompt: ot6, lyrics of us now, heartwarming fluff hurhur

It was still a relatively early hour when Hongbin slipped out into the hall, the feeling of his regular hunter’s clothes oddly heavy and just a little bit itchy after spending nearly a week wearing those floaty, soft-silken shirts and pants the royal family had been providing him. He’d felt so awkward and out of place wearing those clothes in the beginning, but as he’s about to walk down the castle’s grand, plush-carpeted hallway out of the private wings, he has to admit he’ll miss the feeling of this short-lived comfort— but more importantly, the people that he shared it with.

He’s just pushed the set of gigantic oak doors shut on the quiet bedroom when a voice pipes up from somewhere on his left.

“You know, Sanghyuk is going to be really upset when he wakes up and finds you missing.”

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[fluffsik-writes]

@wontaekbin

LRXHB

[fluffsik-writes]

Rahyuk: Sanghyuk having a bad day with practice and his insecurities from when he was seventeen coming back and Wonshik reassuring him

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, which in retrospect made Wonshik feel like he’s failed as the elder of the two because he hadn’t been paying attention.

He was sitting at his desk, sorting out scrap paper and scribbles he wanted to type up the next morning when Sanghyuk spoke up from the general direction of his bed.

“Wonshik, did I mess up bad today?”

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