BONE TONGUE

“kiss the mouth which tells you, here, here is the world. this mouth. this laughter. these temple bones. the still undanced cadence of vanishing.” hwang inha / 21 / c rank

[nxinha-blog]

LEAVE ME LONELY

[nxinha-blog]

nxinha:

nxsehun:

he could’ve been looking up at inha in this hot summer’s nigh in his tipsy state and lax grin as something else. sehun could’ve been looking at the pretty head of red with a pink tinge and hazy glow with a jolting excitement on his chest. yes, sehun could’ve been a lot of things. 

he could’ve been looking up to his agnes as he was hers and she, looking down to him, as his. 

this all could’ve been some flair in a fairy tale thrill. where her teeth shine, peeked behind a smile and a hand to his to whisk her from such a lonesome castle. 

all this speculation of what could’ve been for a drumming, drunken heart. 

(this drumming drunken heart for this pretty, long lost inha.)

the drunk heart wearing his grin, sloppy as it is, the blur of suran quinn in set for eyes on blazing red hair. hwang inha was the kick to the chest, twenty thirteen and back (the adrenaline of such californian nights, a searing chest). even in her blood as in her heart, her body runs hot like a burning fire, how her warm-heart and kind words had soften this drunken desperation. 

even in such a predicament her mind waders to the warmth he weakly endows in his varsity sweater, indeed a warm heart that san diego lingers in her hot touch. hot hands, her fingers to find his wrist – had they been in this position before? dragging him across the bustling city of san francisco and his eighteen year old heart and eyes race with her amongst the tram lines. 

why is it with hwang inha, he always finds himself looking back to this forlorn past with a throbbing yearn? the im sehun grin stretching across his face, this elation, some sort of light hearted flutter that hwang inha was so accustomed to inducing. 

– though talk of taking him to suran chides at the newly buried heart, he had looked to be enlightened by flames and not thrusts into the cold again. “n-n-”

not ever again. (warmth, his friend, now akin to the sun-kissed california to hwang inha.) “inha no, i’m not.” the sudden waver of the voice, a boy now formed the dragging dreaded wrist no longer a fantasy. 

“n-no, inha. i’m here for you.” the utter denial of the heart, his drunken foolishness bashed in his clumsy tongue. the grin frail, though slowly but surely, his chest rises, even the mirage of an icy, constricted chest what was he to do? 

“no.” – an aching smile to his face in the home of his past lovers, ice and the paradise founded in the back seat of his rover years ago. 

“i want to see you.”

when you are young, you feel everything. hwang inha, especially, with her rabbit heart and trusting eyes, sensitivity down to her fingertips—she has always been compassionate, always felt too boldly, too strong, too hot; the burning flame in her chest never once wavering. in short, she burned hot for anything.

in terms of im sehun—he has her in flames with a sort of bittersweet ache never once known to her tongue. he has her burning for him since the day they met.

in which that is what makes this hurt most. the heavy weight that settled into her chest over the span of the last few months, edges ripped and torn with every encounter (im sehun, hand in hand with another, stings more than she’d like to admit). pathetic, if she’s honest, absolutely despairing of her to be the only one stuck like this—cheated out of viable years needed to get over the massive heartache that takes control of her entire body (pain she’s tried to shove down in a span of six months, feelings inha’s long convinced herself of ridding of completely)—while he remains unbothered by it all, by her, by what they were.

of course, he’s long moved on. it was her that was stuck in the past. it was her that struggled still to move past him (even if she won’t admit it).

even now, as she stands, inha finds it impossible to deny the stirring in her chest at the familiarity of im sehun’s trademark grin, alabaster cheeks ruddy with something that inha swears against her beating heart is nothing but attempts to warm herself up in the cold of the night. swears that it wasn’t im sehun’s smile, rise of his cheeks, hint of teeth, curve of his eyes, that has her struggling all over again.

she felt like a damn school girl with a crush.

yet his words has her hesitating, has her doubting the truth in his words as she peers into his eyes, noting the way his grin falters with a small frown herself (it shouldn’t be like this—oh, she’s never wanted to the be one to make sehun like this). but does she believe him? should she?

“what do you mean? you just said you came to see her earlier.” inha chooses her words carefully, cautious not to let any particular bit of sour seep through as her grip on his wrist loosens slightly. “her, not me.” she clarifies, biting bitter pooling at the back of her tongue at the words.

“you’re drunk, sehun, i think you’re getting confused.” she continues, softer now once she drinks in the expression that plagues chiseled features, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tiny frown. she’s more than aware of the way her heart twinges in response, yet hesitant in all the same to act. hwang inha, aching for im sehun. hwang inha, afraid of what’s to come.

of what happens after she lets him in again.

(but who was she kidding? she’s never even successfully gotten her heart back in the first place. no, inha remains stuck, head in the present, heart back in the summer nights of twenty twelve—the worst sort of purgatory.)

“come on," the burning maiden starts, tugging gently on his wrist while she musters up a small reassuring smile. “it’s freezing down here, you can decide on whether or not you want to see suran once we’re upstairs.”

[nxsehun-blog]

( WARM THOUGHTS )

[nxinha-blog]

nxinha:

nxsehun:

in his arms, hwang inha was always warm. hot hands and a warm heart (as not only was she born of kindness, but also of infinite warmth) sliding behind his back. – ah yes, there was some magnetism to the two of them of course. having founded each other so vibrantly, so excitedly, so eagerly, magnetised years before, and now– years after. 

and she took him in, swallowed him in her warmth as an embrace of the ever so tending, kind heart in sehun’s moments of desperation. in his addiction she sedated him, in his weakness, in his vulnerability she cushioned him. the firing chambers and the trigger no longer resound in such an electric head of red,

dazzling as she is. 

what had he done over the years without her? (how would he have known?)

her fingers clutching the fabric of his clothes, flushed to him, yes how has he done it without her for so long? “worried?” the sound of her voice, a delicate whisper of some fluttering melody, a wary smile wears on his face. “oh inha, don’t worry. i feel more than fine.” of course a lie, lips that swear to never seep such things to her but can’t fathom her wavering heart in her strong fires. 

this warm agnes hwang’s heart worries for him. what wasn’t there to smile about?

her and her own hwang inha grin (much of a signature as his im sehun grin), in her impish, dare he say almost endearing self. “i’m glad.” his smile raising, the curl of his lips no longer a weight from his vulnerability, of a lead bullet, but in her fingers and the twinkling light touch to his neck. her skin like fire, her fingertips setting his skin almost alight. such proximity could be a dangerous affliction in her fires. (but perhaps, he’s just to get burnt a little.)

“i knew you’d be too, my aggy.” the chest swelling, hwang inha always shoves so much content on his chest its almost heavy within her delights. im sehun, spoilt of her.  

even in the way she is in his arms, looking to him, the profuse bleeding a lost thought as the body drives itself to it’s defences, seeking shelter and some hold of comfort. someone to align him. (for she was there for him in a drugged dazed, drunken tomfoolery and now a battered boy) 

what can he give now other than his attention?

“why of course puddin’,” again with that im sehun smile, her charming voice in their flirtatious advancements. 

indeed this is comfort, always founded in her. “any time with you is worth spending.” so please inha, whisk him away. 

after all the fire is so warm, so inviting, so beautiful in it’s embers he’d never be afraid to touch. (touch and burn, but it is worth it.)

she’s figured out long ago, it was impossible to regulate a normal body temperature around im sehun. impossible to remain stagnant (unfeeling, unbothered) with the curve of his lips, with warm eyes directed at her,  the timbre of his laugh (and her rabbit heart soars, knees weak). 

but she figures, if it’s him, if it’s sehun, inha wouldn’t mind this kind of feeling—wouldn’t mind the way her heart sped up, skin flushed, signs pointing to a deeper affection for the older boy than she’d like to admit. (no, no labels, her heart trembles at the possibility of more—be it from fear or something else, she doesn’t know)

“do you really?” she parrots, taking up a concerned lilt as her lips pull into a soft frown, careful eyes sweeping over his face. it’s a lie, she knows that, tortures her lower lip between her teeth at the thought of him lying for her comfort. “well–it’d take more than that to take down my puddin’, i suppose...” inha trails off, whimsical (albeit a bit forced) and teasing in her words as she dares a tiny step forward, leaning into his chest a bit more.

just enough—to comfort herself (her heart, pounding anxiously) with faint beat of his.

it’s dangerous, the hold he has on her, the compelling ability to set fire to her already burning chest, swallow up all the oxygen in her lungs—all from calling her his (in a manner most natural, as if she was made to be). im sehun, she supposes, doesn’t even know.

and she can manage little else but a breathless giggle, pleased as she slows to pull away from the embrace, opting not to fully detach herself from the taller, but instead slip her arm around him, leaning into what little space is left in between as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, completely at ease with their position.

was it odd that it was like this? that she felt impossibly at ease with im sehun in any form of contact? that her heart hasn’t stopped in its palpitations once since she’s seen him? 

is it okay for her to be this way? pretend like there’s nothing more? nothing else?

inha doesn’t dare think on it, doesn’t dare pursue what may cause a damper on an already tiring day. instead she beams, bouncing a bit on her feet while her free hand lifts to grasp onto his fingers and tug his arm around her shoulders, lips curved coyly. 

“is this okay then? i wouldn’t want to lose sight of my leo in this crowd...”

in truth, she hadn’t the slightest idea where she wanted to take him, though inha knows not to keep the speedster in a crowd any longer, lest someone bumps into him and aggravates his injuries (but if she’s honest to her wants, she’d rather have im sehun to herself, rather have his warmth pressed close in consolation to the absolutely horrible day they’ve both had—yes, inha would much rather they find a place, secluded, to lick their own wounds together). 

by memory, her feet takes her to the small clearing secluded from the festival. having just gone by earlier to aid wheein in moving her flowers, it seemed that the plant manipulator had returned to grow a couple more, budding lilacs, blues, and whites that she makes sure to maneuver them around, reaching the large camphor tree in no time while commenting animatedly on the sprouting florals. 

“it’s pretty right? i wish i could do something like—oh, let’s sit here—this, i’m jealous, honestly...” inha speaks, perhaps a bit too quickly given the way her tongue dances behind closed teeth, the slightest bit of giddy slipping through for reasons she’s not entirely too sure of. “—but that reminds me!” she starts once more, standing still while nudging the taller to settle against the trunk, careful to pull the spare crown of florals from the crook of her elbow.

admittedly, it was the slightest bit ruffled, but nonetheless—as per her request—wheein had made a true beauty.

“it’s for you,” inha starts, shifting onto her knees to make a move toward the resting boy, one hand pressed between his legs as she presents the crown, beaming with a sort of pride (eyes shining, apples of her cheeks rising) in the creation (in her own idea). “a flower crown for my flower boy.” she teases with a soft giggle, shifting closer still to rest the crown on his head, fingers toying with petals and soft locks absently while she fixates on adjusting it for a few moments.

“i have more, you know—bracelets if you want any, wheein and i got too carried away at her booth.” their eyes meet briefly with the explanation, elated—hasn’t she always been good at presenting distractions?—as she flashes a grin, taking time to show off her treasures as if the most valuable thing in the world (her bracelets, the lines of flowers pressed to her collar bones; she’s entirely too proud of them).

“pretty, right?”

perhaps she’s rambling too much, inha wasn’t sure, wasn’t capable of thinking of more than the fluttering in her stomach (nerves) and pounding in her chest (nerves?). 

[nxinha-blog]

hey guys, so i’ll still be rping on here for a while — if anyone here is staying and wants to continue our plots/threads w/e, just lmk!

[nxsehun-blog]

the idea of going out with hwang inha to see a movie was something im sehun wished his heart wasn’t almost longing, almost akin to, all this time. but this fortunate happenstance with the redhead amongst the pack of (to be frank, after watching the film) overhyped fools, were very much scammed like him and his pyro were.

but he hadn’t expected at the price of two movie tickets, popcorned concessions and sehun’s knowing look to his aggy at diablo’s inferno words, that he’d find her glimmering eyes pricked with fat tears. 

(her heart has always been so warm, he hadn’t known it to be so fond.) 

sehun expected there was a correlation of a house in embers and the reluctance of no control in suicide squad that strikes her heart (as cute as it appears to be). through unexpectedly quick, she crashes into him, a grin grows, contagious off her twinkling voice and warm skin. 

the contagious thunder that drums in the chest at the simple graze of the lips. (the hwang inha effect.) 

“puddin’…” he muses, the affectionate ring of the pet name lays on his tongue paired with wide grins.  

his arms follow suit around her waist and drawing her close, looking down the the precious ruby of her head. ( – was this an act of stumbling too far from their friendship?) “puddin’ don’t tell me you cried.” voice mocking but a hand cupping a cheek and a thumb across the expanse of her skin softly. 

(just for the delicacy of the allure of his ruby.) 

[nxinha-blog]

in retrospect, she should have somewhat expected this. nothing good ever comes out of pyrokinetics in media—fire, after all, wasn’t the mostly friendly of elements. as a matter of fact, if she rewatched the last airbender now, she might just be crushed twice-fold the storyline of a certain scarred prince. but inha had always been stupidly optimistic in that fashion—any fashion, really. 

oh, how she regretted it now — to be standing in front of im sehun, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheds light on the fact that she cried. shame is quick to surface, smile faltering as her gaze lowers to his chest, her fingers sliding down his torso to curl into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“’m not saying anything.” her lower lip juts past, leaning into his touch with a small sigh. for a second, inha dares a glance over his eyes, complexion ruddy from mounting shame, flaring up quick by the amused expression he took up—it was clear that sehun was, in one way or another, making fun of her, and she couldn’t feel more like a child in his embrace. 

still, inha was never really good at lying.

“it was really sad, okay!” inha finally relents, shaking away his touch to pull away as far as firm arms wrapped around her would allow, head turning away from the taller male, stubbornly refusing to look him in the eye as she squirms and wiggles and attempts (half-heartedly) to break from his grip.

“don’t laugh at me. it’s not cool.”

[nxjongin-blog]

*  ❛  SKYLINE TO ,

WHEN SOMEONE HITS TWENTY-TWO they begin to realize that no one really deserves anything. especially not each other.

maybe some people are just lucky.

but he knows luck has chicken shit to do with hwang inha. somewhere in the dregs of what was left of their brief friendship, jongin had made a choice. she just responded to it. maybe in a separate universe, if one were to consider quantum superposition, it didn’t have to be this way. in his head, though, both universes entail a series of developments that are still pessimistically out of his favor, contrary to the axioms drawn by schrodinger’s poor cat.

on this particular day, luck — specifically bad luck — seems to have a little bit more than chicken shit to do with such an ungodly encounter.

jongin is usually really good at ignoring people and letting relationships crumble (is this something to be proud of?), but suddenly he becomes very aware of his hands and the slow beating of his heart when he the door swings open and his eyes rest on very bright red hair, clear to him even under his hazy eyes.

“i’m sorry.” for what exactly, he didn’t know.

[nxinha-blog]

how is she supposed to act? notably there were many instances where inha took things too far, where the pyrokinetic develops the nastiest habit to cross clearly drawn lines between two acquaintances with little but a disarming smile and a touch too tender, all in efforts to be close. surely, there was nothing wrong with wanting to be close ( to bond ), right?

but maybe it was that that misled the nexus force member. 

and inha is the one left wracked with guilt, mouth dry even now with the words she had to force out. 

of course, she’s never known what to do in a situation like this, never one to ever want to hurt anyone’s feelings, much less someone she’s declared a friend against her beating heart. so of course, the most logical option was to—well, hide. 

and just like that, a little over a week seemed to have passed.

though she would have never expected the nexus force member to show up at her door, cheeks warming significantly as she fidgets, nerves getting to the best of her.

what to say, exactly, she wasn’t sure. 

“uh—” her lips part—clamping shut so when jongin cuts her off abruptly, she resembled less like a gaping goldfish. “sorry?” confusion colors her features, brows knitting together as her fingers twitch. what was he sorry for? shouldn’t she be the one sorry?

didn’t she in some way or form, take budding endearment into her burning hands and crushed it for all its worth?

isn’t she the villain here?

“uhm—you don’t have to be sorry for anything—i should be saying sorry!” she tortures her lower lip between her teeth, contemplating the next logical move while her tongue dances restlessly behind closed teeth. obviously, offering a hug now is maybe—still?—too much.

“...sorry, jongin.”

and this, she means with utmost sincerity, as inha always has.

[nxinha-blog]

STENDHAL SYNDROME

what was the purpose in a trip like this? inha wasn’t quite certain. sure, the headmasters has claimed that it would strengthen bonds betwixt the students, but various obstacle courses were also included into the mixture—and inha would never claim to know better than an authority figure, but she could get to know someone just fine without having to duck past flying boulders and falling flat on her rear a few dozen times.

still, smartly, she kept her mouth shut.

( hadn’t they mentioned in the “speech” that it had been a somewhat punishment on behalf of burning the headmaster’s foliage one time too many? )

it was better, in this case, not to further aggravate the fury of the two headmasters.

instead, body broken and sore, inha finds herself in a growing predicament. now, at the beginning of the trip, she had been elated — needless to say, days spent out in the open and under the sun had always seemed ideal to her. if only she had realized then, what else came with it.

why did they have to hunt for their own food? why did they make it so there was nothing provided but a tarp to set up camp? why did anyone think this was a good idea? inha has no answers, frankly, and is quite certain that if she were to ask, no one could give her a right answer.

not even sehun, whom she had smartly “partnered” up with ( it isn’t to say that her feet didn’t go seeking him out, that hwang inha hasn’t been tied to im sehun by fate’s red thread since the day they’ve met ), could possibly know the answer — lest he develops the sudden ability to read minds.

( then, given the prominence in the river veins lining his bare arms and the way sweat clings to his skin, she would have been fucked. )

“see, i don’t really understand—” she starts, eyes flicking over to the broad shoulders of one im sehun, already ankle deep into the shallower parts of the stream, while her own fingers work on unbuttoning her jeans; the simple act of walking around in wet jeans was about the most unattractive thing she’d have to deal with the entire day.

“the point of this whole thing. like, how we’re supposed to fend for ourselves for two weeks — did they expect us to hunt coyotes and eat beetles or something, this isn’t history channel’s “alone”.” 

admittedly, the list of complaints has grown after the first day of training. but inha has managed to make a somewhat game out of the act of survival anyway — or at the very least, fishing sounds a whole lot safer than trying to wrestle a bear or a squirrel.

she’s just lucky that sehun was willing to humor her. that being said, she had no idea how to go about this.

slender legs finally freed of its denim constraint, inha wastes no time to dip her toes into the water, suppressing the very real shudder that overtakes her. honestly, cool water is only bearable when the day has been unbearably hot ( and sweat has taken to coat her skin, muscles sore and bones weary ). 

“...that being said, i know i suggested this — but i hope you know i'm not planning on touching any actual live fish.” a jest, almost, she’s slow in moving toward the taller male, shivering as the water level steadily rises, hand reaching out to curl gloved fingers around his bicep.

“you can do that instead right, puddin?” 

she hopes and prays the bright sheepish grin she flashes him is charming enough to convince him.

[nxinha-blog]

hey guys!!! sorry for the lack of activity, muse has been running a bit low but im back now!! please like this if you’d like to plot/rp something new w baby inha here :^)

[advsungkyung]

Sungkyung looks up from the cotton swab she’s holding with one hand, the other hand is gently placed upon the limb that had suffered a scrape to its otherwise smooth and clear skin; worried eyes searching the face of the student and her gaze turns soft and understanding as a warm smile spreads across her lips. “Yeah, it’s going to sting a bit,” she replies, a sheepish smile on her face as she could relate to the student’s worry, but she doesn’t get far because the younger female wasn’t sitting on the bed anymore. Hurriedly, Sungkyung uses her free hand to steady the student asbest she can with only one hand, “Ah, careful now.”

Setting aside the cotton swab, she supports the younger female with both hands, “Maybe you want to lie down a little.” It’s more an order than a question as she expertly navigates and helps the student lie on the bed instead. “How are you feeling?”

[nxinha-blog]

embarrassing more than not to be in a position like this, inha has gone through bruises and burns and broken bones, but at the end of the day nothing hurt more than a scrape; a stinging, burning sensation that exploded off injured areas. and with scrapes, nothing hurt more than disinfectant. so, naturally, she wanted to get the hell out of dodge. but it doesn’t seem as if the nurse was willing to comply, what with the hand holding onto her.

“ah—” i’m really okay. her lips part to utter, though inha finds herself ushered to lay back before she could continue, cheeks still flush with embarrassment as she meets the older’s eyes, teeth dragging over her lower lip. “just a little sore—haha...” how awkward was this, honestly? “i really should have watched where i was going... but i don’t... uhm... i mean i’m fine.”

she shifts slightly, eyes flicking over to meet the older’s with a sheepish grin. “don’t need any disinfectant or anything, i can just tough it out.” her chest even puffs up as a show of “strength”.

[hyelims]

[xepoch-rp]

                              EPOCH’S FIRST INBOX MEME !

We’ve got more fun events planned for everyone, but until the next one, we’re hoping this will tide you over! Our first meme is based off of quotes heard in the Overwatch game, which is quite fitting given our theme. ;) We’ve taken a select number of quotes from this post!

The rules are simple: send a quote to those who reblog this and they’ll have to write either a drabble or a starter based on the quote given.

And remember: give in order to receive! Keep your karma positive! 

Keep reading

[nxsehun-blog]

( 17TENDER )

[nxsehun-blog]

running someone over in the first few moments in the buzzing san francisco wasn’t in his plan – then again, not almost threatening a life of an incredibly pretty girl wouldn’t have led him to a civil conversation (in hopes of fluttering flirtations). so yes, the modern man and their ostentatious ways of bravado and flirtation, has to have led him with such an accident. 

to think that he was sent out on the dwindling highways of our america to become a better man.

the sunny bay area kissing his skin in the beating winds and rays of sunshine, and to be rather cliche, rather boyish, rather hormonal in all the ways – does this perfect san francisco stranger look like a shiny dime. (looking at her now, he’d have to agree with katy perry; california girls were indeed, undeniable.)

but then again, he’s got to keep in mind what the fuck he had just done. 

“i-i’m sorry.” the heat of pride, dusted with embarrassment and of course the lingering shame strung above him – did you even think this through? clearly not if he was still in a struck state, blubbering apologies. “you’re right.” the way she looks at him only weighs his thin shoulders more. 

gulp once. very fucking uncool im sehun. 

in her shock, brash response (which is fucking expected), sehun loses some hold over his ego.

but yeah sehun, keep on grinning, remember what you said about how everything was going to be better? of course following with multitudes of character (and unfortunately, substance) relapses, you had built yourself to be better, no? 

he asks this question himself, (too many times) wearing sheepish and modesty on his chest. “i’m sorry, again really.” gulp twice, this unhandsome fashion of introduction again leaving his eyes drawn to the ground

and to the spilled coffee dispersing and seeping into the cracks of asphalt.

“sorry about your coffee too,” daring to look at her, but only to find it else where than back at her eyes – again the shame persistently grasping his shoulders and clamped on previous frivolities of pretty girls and flirtation. 

and somehow, a small smile on his lips manages to escape for the devouring remorse that bites at his incessant need to be well-liked and usually, with a supposed control over that. 

“but maybe, i can take you out for another?” looking to his watch, sucking in the supposed abundance of confidence back to his ego he so suddenly lost. 

flash her a smile now, a real big one too. “and maybe after, lunch? if you’ll have me.” 

“i owe it to you at the very least.” 

so hopefully, there should be a remedy to this soon. the perspiration of the back of his hand and shying eyes from pretty, almost run over, bay area girls 

[nxinha-blog]

what else is there to say? a part of her wants to snap, san francisco temper rising to the surface despite his “apology” ( but to be fair, she does know that he’s sorry, whether or not a good part of her chooses to forgive and forget just like that was a different story entirely ), inha does little else but glare with those sharp pretty eyes of hers, arms folded over her chest and lips downturned.

and yet — “of course i’m right.” slips right out of her mouth despite herself, jaw slightly clenched as her eyes flicker over defined features. 

it isn’t hard to pick up on the sorry expression on his face and though she remains aggravated ( just as her heart pounds livid in her ears ), inha is well aware that it’ll pass, that anger will ebb away to nothing with each and every apology. she hasn’t ever once been wholly capable of being angry at someone for long—especially a stranger in an accidental situation like this.

really, she shouldn’t be too hard on him.

“it’s fine—” it wasn’t. but the cute boy has suffered enough, she’d think. “it’s just coffee.” at least it isn’t my blood splattered on the floor. and inha is at least content with that, content to leave the conversation with just that and the brazen memory of the first cutie she’s seen in a week that’d almost ran her over. 

so, body poised to move, she’s stopped by his words, delicate brow arching at the disbelief that comes with it ( well, along with a fair amount of amusement ). was he seriously trying to pull what she thinks he’s doing? 

admittedly, inha finds herself slightly dumbfounded, unable to rein in the look that takes to sharp features ( the tragedy of a resting bitch face lies in any amount of displeasure easily intensifies her expression tenfold—perhaps the reason why she’s tried so hard to smile year round ) as her lips parts. stops. closes. and parts again.

“are you seriously asking me out after nearly ramming your bumper into me?” perplexed as she sounds, her expression doesn’t change for a few moments longer, gaze deviating from his own to the grin that takes to his lips, finding a bit of something ( exasperation, amusement, whatever it maybe, perhaps she really is charmed by this brash yet apologetic boy ) twitch in response. 

this was as 2010 k-drama as it was going to get for her, wasn’t it?

“you can treat me to coffee,” inha starts, running a hand through long locks as her head shakes, expression loosening while she continues on. “we’ll have to see about lunch,” her lips quirk.

“depending on how good you are at making it up to me, ah...” a notable pause. she didn’t know his name did she?

“i’m agnes.” 

here, the pretty bay babe offers a bright smile, apples of her cheeks rising, flushed with earlier’s adrenaline rush. 

“you are?” 

[nxsehun-blog]

( WARM THOUGHTS )

[nxsehun-blog]

the pain strikes in a throb in the left arm, a wary head pounding. exactly what is he doing here? this is the confusion that runs in his mind – this is not right. there shouldn’t be a blistering sun, shining above widened smiles. his arm pulsates with jarring heat through his strained veins, this carnival with delighted grins with the scent of fresh grass, happy murmurs and such – how out of place of him. 

(if you could hear the annoyance ringing in his mind, a nag in his head for the darkness of his room, plush of the mattress.) 

logically, it must’ve been some magnetism. a call of the gut, hwang inha, polarised magnets. but there is anything but repelling. 

like some comedy unravelling in the slight swell of the cheek and bleed of the arm. hwang inha in her brilliance, dotted with a floral allure even unattainable from the naked eye. 

an oasis found in a dried wasteland. 

she’s like some haze. a tinge intangible to the bruised knuckles and blistered fingers. she was like some force, (like some romance trope) untouchable moving in the beautiful technicolour of slow motion. this is not right. 

even the closing distance between them (his chest singing, his usual control a lost facade, shell of himself, this hwang inha effect). the bare processing of information ramble into a confusion in fluctuation with the fight of the ramming heart. the hwang inha effect, logic versus the heart. 

(cue a hue of remembrance to san diego with legs entangled, flirty eyes.) 

this is the magnetism at the utmost strongest. even in the marrow, the sinews, the joints between his pyro is a force almost (almost, the key word), irresistible.

“inha.” a soft spoken im sehun goes, arms still shaking as they rest around her waist, this warmth he warded off in the blacks of his fabrics, purple bruising against the pale skin – he didn’t know that this intimacy was a clench to the chest where her head of red rested at. and a much needed one indeed. 

her arms pushing him against her body, his in broken aggressions and exhaustions, hers in plush comforts of softness. “for me?” even the idea has him in elation like the spreading warmth of the festivities he could see but could not touch. once cold in the bone, unwavering in pity now eloped in her embrace. “well…” eyes meeting hers, the warmth rekindled to it’s forlorn. 

this, the hwang inha effect. (it has this faint hearted version of im sehun off tangent.) “i’m fine now, its nothing.” though a weak smile and lidded eyes rather say otherwise, could he lie through his teeth to beauty adorned in flowers? 

“how about you aggy? the festival,” divert the attention, the white bandage doing little as cover up but his eyes still roaming this very arresting hwang inha, furrowed eyes in return. “and the bruises and everything?”

[nxinha-blog]

how is she supposed to react to im sehun like this? with shaking limbs snaked around her waist and a smile he wears unconvincingly. all factors that work to pluck at heart strings, a tune that threatens the quiver in her heart. for a sight like this fresh, unfamiliar, hurts her more than anything. sehun at his weakest hurts her more than anything. 

( to think, months back she had been more than willing to ignore his very existence. )

but inha would guess that he doesn’t want her to comment on it, that he doesn’t want to shed light on any sort of unsavory occurrences that came with his time alone in the arena. not that it meant that inha would stop—not when her heart aches to comfort her once valiant im sehun—but only that she’d have to be smarter about it. 

or rather, softer.

“yeah, for you.” inha parrots, fingers curling into soft fabric while worried eyes scan his face, lips pressing into a soft pout. “i was worried.” she confesses, voice soft, almost shy in the way her gaze lowers for brief seconds, lashes fluttering. there wasn’t any need to lie, not when she’s sure sehun would have figured it out anyway. in the back of her mind she’ll realize belatedly that she should have been more careful, that the moments spent gazes locked with im sehun attributed more to the rise in her pulse than just concern in his injuries. 

but now, right now, she’s too preoccupied with im sehun and his injuries and dismissive answers—enamored even.  

“yeah? well you’ve always been fine, puddin’.” there was no merit in pushing, in pressing for the truth when it’s already displayed before her — sehun was like an open book when it came to things like this and she’d much rather divert to a lesser topic as a sort of distraction for his sake. so, inha throws in a pretty smile, hand slipping free to slide gloved fingers over his jaw gingerly, carefully turning his head from one side to another in “inspection”. “yup! still fine.” she tries her best not to wince at the cut lip. trying instead a dazzling attempt at a beaming hwang inha grin, leaning into him a bit more as her hand lowers to rest over his shoulder, fingers curling against the nape of his neck absently.

“i’m glad you’re okay, leo — i knew you’d be.” 

it’s an earnest confession at that, relief evident in her words and smile widening at the pet name. how was she doing? well, inha fared better in comparison, certainly, but the pyrokinetic knew better than to mention it—rather, she knows an attempt to change topics when she sees one. who was she to deny im sehun of all people, when he wanted to focus on her ( for once )? 

“’m okay, i just got off my shift not too long ago.” she replies simply, mind working to put together the best course of action at a time like this. “my bruises—ah, well, at least i’m not cold anymore...” sheepish, the grin on her lips is wry, pulling back a bit further to regard the taller, head tilting slightly and pink tongue flicking out over her lower lip, unable to deny the way her heart pounds a bit harder.

maybe it’s the nerves, yes, the nerves. 

“are you busy? do you have time to spend with me, puddin?”

[nxsehun-blog]

( WARM THOUGHTS )

@nxinha

lead that fires through the skin and sinks it’s teeth into your shoulder leaves no mercy, with blood gushing against his pale skin and the head dizzyingly spurring im sehun with bruises and a bloody hole in his arm is looking for solace. looking for warmth in the midst of a hot carnival day.

battered weak, the mind fleshy and fragile what is he really doing here?

no longer hunting for the stretched smiles and unburdened laughs to hang in the late summer’s air, all he is, existing in this festival is a black hole of dark clothing with a bloody, beaten body. (yes, this very profound, very incredible superhuman was just mortal and in wounds.) his frail joints and his bruised skin tainting him purple sore his body only calls for drawn curtains and the cotton of his sheets.

not the mingling of bodies, held up laughter and merry company. something quite like the vision before him, weighing dread.

it doesn’t make sense that he’s here, in the cry of his muscles and throb of his arm in the thick of a crowd.

but it’s like magnetism, or something like that. because the crowd clears almost magically, comedically if anything to open up to some sort of celestial air of rule.

of course it opens up to a gorgeous hwang inha, skin again under the touch of sunlight and a bloody, battered and beaten im sehun struggling for that charming grin he seemed to have misplaced.

(what a joke.)

[nxinha-blog]

her body is not one made for war. rather, she is not made for war. though skilled and quick on her feet, inha was not the type—perhaps not yet or not even ever—this much was evident in the way she exhausts after the arena fiasco, after over an hour in a hot shower that burns and stings at every cut and scrape ( it didn’t matter, however, because she almost loved was used to the burn of retribution ), after chill that still lingers in her bones. 

she was no longer soaked to the bone, yet she feels it all the same—a ghost sensation that lingers on her skin, one that she’s sure isn’t going away any time soon.

diligence shines best here, though inha ached to join the audience in the arena—to watch her speedy at work, displaying prowess and magnificence she’s known he’s always been capable of—the pyrokinetic finds herself chained to the responsibility that was the cotton candy booth on the other side of the festival. fair enough, she did sign up for it.

but four hours is quick to pass when you lose yourself in the task. and here’s the great thing about hwang inha, folks: though she ached and pained from all ends of her body, she was exceptionally good at faking it. what of the bruises ( small and large, sporadic darkening blotches all over fair skin ) when her smile is this bright, this charming?

if anything, she’s made the best sales since—given the amount of people looking to pity or congratulate after the arena task.

( the latter is as embarrassing as it is surprising—seeing as she really didn’t do much that deserved praising. )

though it wasn’t till after her shift ended and she visited wheein’s booth ( to come out of it decked in flowers; a crown on her crown, dried flowers lined from one clavicle to another, bracelets, and even another floral crown she had requested as a favor ) that she hears from a stranger’s mouth the events of a particular speedster’s performance in the arena—or more specifically the fact that he got shot.

here, you see, it’s hard not to get worried, not to reveal too much when she bids her friend goodbye to begin the search of the very tall very worrying im sehun. heart pounding against its cage, inha chides herself for anything too bad—it wasn’t as if sehun never boasted of a rapid healing rate, better than she’s known; but the thought of it, the act of it, has her heart strings pulled taut. 

how was she to find him in this crowd?

but it’s like magic ( magic, because inha doesn’t dare believe in destiny when it came to him, them ) and the crowd parts and her head turns, watching in a kind of slow motion only ever available for those who move fast enough for the world to slow ( and her world did slow at the sight of im sehun ) — here, their eyes meet and her heart gives a resounding thud in her chest.

“sehun!” she exclaims, breathless with relief as she closes the distance between them, whatever sort of bright expression attempted faltering by the time she was close enough to spot the paleness of his skin, the uncharacteristic defeat that took to handsome features.

to her credit, inha doesn’t stop, though she does slow considerably, allowing her feet to bring her right to the speedster as her arms lift to wrap around him, pulling close for a hug. he smelt vaguely dirt and smoke, overwhelmed by a sort of disinfectant reminiscent of a hospital ( her stomach turns at the thought ) — but it didn’t matter, he was here wasn’t he? 

“i was looking for you.” she confesses, face pressed into his chest for a few longer moments of self indulgence before pulling back, brows knitted in worry as their eyes meet. “someone said you got shot?”

even the words itself were hard to process.

“are you okay?” 

[advsungkyung]

* kiss it better

Sungkyung knew it would be fun to participate for the kissing booth, and the experience so far had not disappointed her the slightest. The only thing she didn’t like about it was the four hours she had to sit there and wait for something to happen, had to wait for someone to come to her. Obviously, that’s the whole idea of a kissing booth but as her shift was early in the morning there weren’t that much to do, and not everybody wanted to stop by said booth. That’s understandable, she thinks, her chin resting on the palm of her hand while the other is occupied by her phone. The line in front of her had decreased by the minute and before long she had satisfied all the customers. Now, they were looking for something else to do, though she did notice some of them had the guts to return for another kiss. As long as they pay.

Sitting back in her chair, she stretches her arms above her head, stifling a yawn. She sees a figure approaching the booth from the line of her vision, the corner of her lips curving up slightly. Sungkyung recognizes the female, but then again, it was difficult to not notice her with her beautiful red hair. She really did stand out amongst the crowd, and Sungkyung had had the pleasure of getting to know her when she visited the health center. Glad that someone had finally come to keep her company, she greets the student with a smile, “Hey.”

[nxinha-blog]

though she enjoyed volunteering, inha loved nothing more than to have free time ( actual time to herself ) to roam the festival. not to say that she enjoyed solitude in abundance, but in smaller controlled doses, inha rather enjoyed being able to maneuver through the crowd, earbuds pushed into place to drown out any excess noise that distracted her from—well, nothing much in particular, actually. 

but that was the fun of it, wasn’t it?

by her third lap around, inha finally lays her eyes on something interesting—written across the board in pink letters with pastel paper hearts, nexus’ own kissing booth—needless to say interest was piqued. inha has seen kissing booths before, back in states, has even sort of kinda partook in charity carwashes — but she wouldn’t dare to sign up for anything like that now, anything that involves direct skin contact is almost like wishing for some kind of quick death. still, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t go around and tease whoever it was that was volunteering.

but lo’ and behold, it’s sungkyung that greets her, pulling surprised delight from the red head’s features before she flashes the older a grin. “hey!” inha skips up to the booth with ease, head tilting slightly and tone taking up a teasing lilt. “if i knew you were running this booth, unnie, i’d come by earlier. how’s business? y’need some chapstick?” 

[nxjongin-blog]

his lips twist into a frown, but it’s lighthearted, at the least. “hm, well i’ve never had much of a taste for sour apple.” frisky fingers drum a brief beat onto the stand before being slipped back into his back pockets.

wait a second, kim jongin, turn that frown upside down! you came here for inha, not for yourself.

a grin takes the place of grimace; pretty soon he’s looking down at her again with that boyish smile of his. “but i’ll buy it! if you share with me.” brown eyes glance at the watch on his left wrist: perfect timing. “no need for the discount. i’ve got plenty of money.” his right hand slips the wallet out of his front pocket and begins fumbling about for the bills. he slides it across the stand, good spirits still evident in the ghost of the smile on his lips.

“inha, you’re free after this right?” he religiously rubs the back of his neck. “let’s walk around. i’ll buy.”

[nxinha-blog]

her own lips pucker, expression thoughtful for a minute. “oh—well we have blueberry and cherry if you want to try those instead? original is always a classic too!” inha tries her best to sell the product, smile matching his as she waits for a reply, rocking back on her heels absently.

“yeah?” inha voices with a laugh, sparing a second only to greet her coworker before turning back to the taller, grabbing a cone and shifting over the machine. “i don’t mind sharing—but what am i to do if you won’t accept my friend discount?” she pulls an exaggerated pout, lower lip jutting out before the expression dissipates into a small fit of giggles, apples of her cheeks rising as she begins the process of preparing his cone.

“tha—nk yo—u!” the girl sings, spare hand moving to grasp the money and set it into the metal box with a hum. she had been nearly too focused on her quest for the perfect looking cotton candy cone, nearly missing what it was that jongin had to say. “mm? yeah—we could do that!” inha beams, quickly adding on in an after thought. “but you don’t have to pay!! like—i have money, i mean.”

not a lot, but she does have money.

“here—give me a sec, ‘k?” she hands him the cone, offering a disarming smile before turning exchange a few words with her coworker, moving to untie her apron—and before you know it, she was ready to go. “OKAY!” inha exclaims, perhaps a bit too excited to roam around festival grounds as she scurries around the table to come to a stop ( in a little gleeful jump ) in front of the taller, grinning widely.

“ready to go, tall and mysterious man?”

[advjingoo]

Oops | Inha & Jin Goo

[advjingoo]

He wipes some water off his face with his hand. His clothes are cold and wet now, clinging to him. He supposes it was lucky that he hadn’t really been sick since he received the serum. He assumes that his immune system would’ve been given a boost, but he can’t be too sure. He hopes he didn’t jinx his odds of catching a cold. 

Looking over at Inha, Jin Goo nodded, “I’m good,” he replies before mulling over her words. Looking around, he saw that she was right. The last person who had dunked him in the water was already onto their next stand, and there weren’t a lot of people who looked like they were headed their way. 

So he nods and grabs the edge of the tank, and pulls himself halfway out. He puts his foot on the seat to make getting out a little easier, knowing that the wooden plank would hold his weight. 

[nxinha-blog]

she’s hesitant regardless, not wanting to get splashed or doused with water herself. as expected ( as in textbook cliche ), inha despises the cold. right down to the way it brings an ache to her body that she can’t seem to shake. which, honestly, just makes volunteering for the dunk games an ironic tragedy. but it didn’t matter anyway, inha was willing to put aside any distaste now that she was here — after all, she did volunteer for it and like any responsible adult ( this is what she’s attempting to be here ), she must reap what she sowed.

in other words, suck it the fuck up.

“you sure?” inha questions, a worry lilt apparent in her words. getting dunked in water might not seem like a hard thing, but to her, the thing was almost as bad as a death trap. besides, any normal being would need a break from doing something after a while right? 

luckily enough, the older seems to heed her words, prompting a small pleased smile to curve her lips as she grabs a towel and makes her way over. “ahh! ssaem let me help—” inha starts, perhaps entirely too ditzy in the way her hand rests against a certain target, pressing into it to position herself—and before she knew it, the professor was dropped into the tank with a splash, cold water that greets her upper body and draws a surprised shriek from her lips. 

[nxwheein-deactivated20160910]

;thug but flowers║inha&wheein

[nxwheein-deactivated20160910]

“bro, wha—”

there’s a pause.

pee-whee.

her eyes narrow.

there’s a clatter as she tries to climb her small booth table to make herself taller, face full of betrayal and r a g e towards the pyrokinetic. “FIGHT ME, YOU SENTIENT TREE,” she raises a single fist, the other one desperately clinging to the table so she doesn’t fall. it’s no secret that she hates the nickname.

“wait, is that cotton candy for me?” she slowly makes her way down from her impromptu fighting stance. “we’re cool, then.” it’s hard for her to stay mad at her gal pal. their friendship is still relatively new, but despite that, it’s almost scary how well they get along. well, amazing for them, and scary for any outside the friendship. the both of them together only ends in a mess for everyone else.

wheein’s mood changes in a matter of seconds, and a smile is back on her face, infamous dimple on the right cheek. she spreads her arms to show off the various flowers crowns and chains on her body; the mutant would be lying if she said she wasn’t waiting for inha to visit her. her small nursery was a work of pride, and she was excited to show inha.

“bro, look, i’m 2 Chainz, but flowers!”

[nxinha-blog]

it’s hard not to look too pleased. though to be fair, inha didn’t much try to look less smug than she felt, a grin cracking along her features with the defense wheein immediately brings out—and inha immediately laughs at the sight of wheein trying to climb on the table, face flushed with glee as she watches. “you’d lose—and i’m not here to fight anyway.”

it’s true, she wasn’t. this, wheein seems to notice a second later by the way she climbs off the table, prompting a smaller muted giggle from the taller of the two. the younger was, if anything, cute as fuck. “yeah, boba too—i have to nurture my flower baby or you’ll wilt, don’t you know?” inha jokes, setting the cup onto the table before her gaze turns to the multitude of flowers laid out on display. wheein’s ability is certainly pretty, the center of inha’s envy, the ability to bring beauty onto a world like this when she could only manage the opposite. inha would much rather be able to do that than what she could barely manage to keep under control on the daily, anyway.

“y’sell anything?” she poses her question absently, gaze lifting to watch her friend ( near drowning in flowers ) as her lips twitch, flashing her a toothy grin and stepping closer. “wow, fuck, you look bomb—” inha reaches out, gingerly touching the petals with gloved fingers. “y’planning on joining smtm6 like this? need me to beatbox? can you drop eight bars right now?” of course, she doesn’t have an issue with teasing entertaining wheein like this.

“wait—where’s mine huh?” inha pulls an exaggerated pout, head tilting. “as a part of your posse, i think i deserve some damn bling, jung wheein.”