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[aclondon-blog1]

[aclondon-blog1]

I want the K

9: Jawline Kiss 

“so… you’re the president’s son. like the actual president’s son. the guy who’s running this country.” 

london nods her head slowly, very impressed. 

“you’ve come a long way from that nerdy boy back in london,” she says, laughing quietly as she recalls life back at home, when soohyuk had been a welcome distraction from the toils of training. it’s interesting to think about, the way their positions have changed in such a short amount of time: back in london, she had been in the spotlight; now, soohyuk’s the one in front of a hoard of cameras. “funny how the world works, don’t you think?” 

london sniffles, rubbing her hands together to generate just a tiny iota of warmth in the chilly winter air of seoul before she stuffs them into the pockets of her school blazer. it makes sense, the difference in their school emblems carrying the contrast of parental expectations for the both of them, completely different, and yet somewhat similar. despite herself, london smiles at the thought. 

“well. i’d love to stay and chat, but... training.” she nudges the duffel bag in front of her feet with the tip of her sneaker, sighing quietly at what awaits her. “it’s good to see you though.” 

her bag is heavy on her shoulder as she stands, a small shiver running down her spine as the cool air hits the back of her neck. london leans down, pressing a kiss to soohyuk’s jaw before waving goodbye. 

“see you around, mate.”

[aclondon-blog1]

I want the K

4: Forehead Kiss 

london is very drunk and very sleepy. 

giggles periodically slip out of her as the same recurring thought enters her head:

                      her parents would kill her if they knew what she was doing. 

she’s reaching out for her next can of beer, the chatter surrounding her melting into one, almost monotonous, hum of sound that is somewhat irritating, but easier to ignore than she’d initially thought. alcohol, much to her surprise, doesn’t seem to be as bad as everyone makes it out to be. 

the can cracks open with a satisfying hiss, froth quick to bubble up and rise close to the surface. tomorrow’s run is going to be hell and a half, but right now, london couldn’t care less. the sound of crunching gravel beneath her sneakers and rhythmic breaths is almost completely forgotten in favour of blinking away little starbursts that cloud her vision as the lights in the room blur into streaks of different shades of yellow. she likes this. she’s happy she said yes to going out with jinah, and let her friend pull her away from the drumsticks and closer to the music that she can just listen to without much thought. she might be going crazy, but she almost swears she can feel the music in her fingertips. 

(it’s probably just the alcohol talking.) 

lo? you okay? 

london can feel jinah’s slender fingers wrap around her wrist, can feel her friend’s laughter fill her ears at how gone she must look. she giggles, and giggles, and nods her head. 

“yeah, jinnie unnie. i’m good. i’m really good.” she takes a sip of beer, humming along along to a song she’s only heard for the first time tonight, head resting comfortably on jinah’s shoulder. “thanks for taking me out tonight.” 

she was aiming for her cheek, but jinah lowers her head in the hopes of hearing london a little better, so her kiss lands on jinah’s forehead. giggles tumble out of her once more. 

“oops.”

[aclondon-blog1]

i want the k sunshine girl

7: Romantic Kiss 

london has never really been a big fan of the snow, which is why she’s here now, indoors, somewhere between tired and sleepy as she rolls over. she can feel taeil’s fingers combing through her hair, desperately trying to fight back the urge to sleep by pushing his hand away, but to no avail. 

“stop,” london says; he chuckles and keeps going. “stop. i don’t wanna fall asleep yet.” 

taeil does stop, but relief is far and distant as he slowly drags his hand down her back and curls it around the curve of her hip. she whines, but it’s so muffled against his shoulder that it comes out sounding like something else. 

“oppa.” 

they lie stone-still in a strange kind of silence for a moment. 

london holds her breath as she lifts her head to look at taeil properly, only to find he’s already looking right at her. shifting eyes fall to his lips, chapped from the winter cold, and just like that, london finds herself sinking deeper and deeper into temptation. she’s up on her elbows, feels his arm under her stomach from where he’d been holding her, and there’s an overwhelming wave of fondness sweeping over her at the sight of his disheveled hair and half-lidded eyes looking right back at her, watching her every move. 

the sheets rustle around them as she moves to lean forward. 

taeil’s lips are soft and warm as he kisses her back, her eyes fluttering shut as he brings a hand up to cup her cheek, holding london as if he dreads the thought of her leaving. these are the moments she’s going to ingrain in her brain and never going to forget, these moments when she swears time has stopped and doesn’t start up again until they’re pulling away for a breath of air. she chases after his lips right before she opens her eyes again. 

now sleep seems like just a distant dream.

[aclondon-blog1]

I want the K ;)))))

12: Chest Kiss 

late. 

so, so late. what good is the captain of the track and field club if she can’t even show up to the meets on time? london is running through the halls, panic so blatantly clear on her face as she dodges students left and right, weaving through the masses to make it out of the building and onto the field. 

stupid math class going over time. stupid english class that she can’t get out of early even when she’s done all the work before the teacher’s even made it to the end of the chapter. stupid guilt that makes her feel obliged to run even when she doesn’t want t-- 

“oof!” 

so lost in thought, london doesn’t look where she’s going, stumbling back, so close to falling on her ass. for a moment it’s as if she’s stuck in a daze, frozen on the spot as she tries to process what’s just happened. she looks up, eyes growing wide when she sees who she’s just run into -- literally. london looks down and away to avoid staring nohmin in the eye. 

“oh my g--” she catches herself before the english tumbles out. “i’m really sorry, sir!” 

she’s stares at his tie, notices the slight sheen on the otherwise matte black, and oh my god, did i just kiss my science teacher’s chest?!

[aclondon-blog1]

gimme dat k [water emoji]

6: Gentle peck 

It’s not even track season, lo. why do you insist on running? 

plumes of white smoke slip past her lips as london makes another lap around the track. she sniffles behind the collar of her tracksuit jacket, zipped all the way up and shielding her nose from the morning breeze, hair swinging behind her with every step. as she rounds the two-hundred metre point, she catches sight of doyeon on the bench by her bag at the other end of the field; from here, she can’t see much but the little black blob of a human that’s curled up into their thick overcoat, a head of blonde just barely visible beneath the hood. 

london keeps running, and breathes out another cloud of smoke. 

london! 

she slows down as she re-approaches the starting line. london bends over, hands planted firmly on her thighs, panting so hard it almost clouds her vision. the neatly trimmed grass is covered by a thin sheen of dew, and the sun has risen high enough for the sunlight to bounce off and force her to squint. 

london’s nose is tipped red; her body is thrumming with warmth, but there’s no denying how cold it is out here. there are disapproving clicks of the tongue coming from doyeon’s direction as she walks over to the bench where her best friend sits, and london reaches into her bag to find a towel to wipe her sweat-soaked face with. 

there’s a brief rustling next to her before she’s being forced to sit upright, two heat packs pressed up to her ears by a frowning doyeon, who’d insisted that running in winter was not a good idea. london sniffles again before smiling, the tension in her shoulders dissipating as the warmth sinks in. she leans over and presses a small kiss to the corner of doyeon’s lips. 

“thanks.”

[aclondon-blog1]

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[aclondon-blog1]

pretend i’m not too tired to make a bad joke and put one in here to break the ice. call me ree and this is my lil sunshine beb, london! hmu in the tumblr ims and i’ll share my lemon-infused water with u. a tl;dr version of her bio under the cut! 

orphan adopted by a former british olympic track runner and his coach-turned-wife 

her adoptive parents are those ‘we adopt children to give them a better life but also so that we look good to the world’ type of people 

but they’re pretty decent when you get to know them 

dad is/was set on training her to be the next olympic track runner in the fam

lived in london pretty much her whole life up until moving to seoul for school 

honestly just runs to keep her parents happy 

i mean she’s good but it’s not her most favourite thing in the world 

was told the names of her birth parents at the age of twelve 

is lowkey highkey bitter that her adoptive parents knew the whole time and didn’t tell her earlier

got into drumming after sneaking out at nights (#rebel) to go to bars and listen to live music 

probs that one person in class always tapping her pens against the desk sorry in advance if you share classes with her

only managed to go to korea by making a deal with her parents that she’d keep training even while she was on the other side of the world 

probably lives in an apartment with a close friend of her mother’s/aunt that makes sure to update her parents on her progress idk i forgot to mention that in the bio 

shy, but is a dork when you get to know her 

gets lowkey overprotective and possessive of her friends bc let’s be honest she didn’t really have many back in london 

that friend who reminds you to stay hydrated and makes sure you’re eating and sleeping on the regular

also probably loves the drums bc she can let out some frustrations on em

just a smol bean. protect her. love her. tell her bad jokes. 

don’t have any plots atm but i’ll come up with some soon! or hmu and we can brainstorm :^)

[aclondon-blog1]

A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.

Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why

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