#not me forgetting how to format tumblr and editing the first excerpt like 50 times

[trippydooda]

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Han Jisung/Seo Changbin

Rating: Safe for minors for this excerpt

Word Count: 1,352

Changbin quickly, for a lack of a better phrase, gets his shit together after the embarrassing conference he has with Seungmin.

The spellcaster had leveled him a look of unfiltered pity and Changbin hated it. Of all the people to look weak in front of, it had to be him. Changbin’s own ability to read ether, perfected by instruction from the spellcaster, has almost seemed to backfire on Seungmin. It’s unclear if he’s noticed yet, but there’s something slimy and slippery hiding under the viscous ether that covers the man. Seungmin has never treated Changbin with anything other than poise and respect, but he won’t—can’t—trust the practiced smiles; the gentle touches laced with equally practiced concern. Until Changbin finds what exactly it is that lights his nerves aflame around Seungmin, he won’t ever let his guard down.

Again, his own brain betrayingly muses. Changbin scowls all the same, not bothering to hide it as he sits cross legged, arms folded, on a pathetic stone that must have once served some residential purpose.

Ever the diligent solider, the moment sweat didn’t threaten to suffocate his skin, Changbin went back to tracking J-One. Either his target doesn’t bother to hide his machinations or he simply does not give a fuck if—when—anyone finds him. Though at this point Changbin is almost sure the only person out for his blood is, well, Changbin. Something twists in his gut at the thought, an emotion he has no reference to deduce.

Regardless, J-One’s current choice of residence leaves a lot to be desired. The only benefit, Changbin thinks, is that the current ruins are not charted on any map; there was no need to necessarily know where it was, not having any monetary or otherwise value attached to the land anymore. The moment he feels the air definitively shift around him, he makes the approaching figure privy to his useless ruminations.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Changbin greets, J-One stumbling into view now. A breeze tussles his unkempt hair, a look of surprise quickly replaced with something else Changbin will never be able to decode.

There was no point in it, anyway. A coroner will soon be the only one left to decode his lanky target. Changbin resolutely does dare to describe J-One as lithe nor nimble.

Infuriatingly, J-One absolutely beams at Changbin, taking the daring steps forward to dimmish the distance between them. “Your voice is almost as pretty as everything else about you,” J-One says and Changbin flinches from pensive anticipation of a fight—definitely not of anything else.

“Do you always flirt with death like this?” Changbin says as a reply, ignoring the…strangely soft compliment.

“Nah, just with you.”

“Pretentious,” Changbin tsks.

J-One’s hair is a faded pink colour, approaching a pastel peach hue. It hadn’t been long since they first met and that obnoxious blue taunted Changbin. He idly wonders why bother to change it so much but answers his own question with what he thinks is fair enough logic: to throw off would be pursuers. Too bad for J-One that Changbin doesn’t rely on such dynamic and fruitless things to track down his targets as style.

Unsurprisingly, J-One ignores Changbin’s annoyed turmoil in favour of declaring, “I’m so honoured you decided to finally talk to me.” And—the way a genuine smile tugs at his lips, the way his ether pulsates with uncomfortable desire, Changbin believes him. He does not comment on it as he unsheathes his scythe from its ring instead, fearing if he keeps on the conversation his resolve will crumble pathetically into rubble not too dissimilar from the very terrain he finds himself on.

Because the thing was—J-One was interesting. He made Changbin curious. It made Changbin want to know more about his target for purely selfish reasons. Even as his scythe struggles to meet a conjured blade, he wonders where J-One learned to fight so effortlessly. Changbin has never relished in his ability and duty to act as executioner but this time he briefly dreads it.

For now, at least. In the coming year the trepidation he will carry like shackles on his ankles will feel more like torture.

Apparently his target has no qualms with conducting an interview as they dance their tango of inevitable death.

“How old are you?” he asks Changbin, his ether the only betraying clue that he’s exerting any effort at all.

For reasons unknown to even Changbin himself, he replies, “Far too old for you to be concerned with the matter.” He slashes at J-One’s feet, but his target hops back just in time. Bastard.

In between the clanging of weapons and skidding of dirt beneath their feet Changbin hears his target hum thoughtfully. It’s all so infuriating; the way J-One moves so fluidly, almost better than Changbin (almost being the operative word, his ego reiterates); how he smiles as he does so but there is not a trace of malice in the curve of his lips. Changbin wants to cut his mouth from his damn face just so he doesn’t have to see the brightness therein.

“I’ve read about you, Grim Reaper,” J-One finally says, the smile replaced with a cocky smirk, “I hear you’re all the rage at the agency. I also heard some more interesting things.” He barely dodges the next slash Changbin aims at his face; a small cut no bigger than a sliver begins to ooze blood. It rolls down his target’s cheek like a promise for more, but J-One either is ignoring it or just doesn’t notice all together. “Would you like to know what I heard?”

“Absolutely not,” Changbin finds himself responding despite his desire to shut his own mouth. He’s never held conversation with one of his targets, let alone had one of his targets want to have a chat. The way J-One keeps dodging and Changbin keeps slashing makes him momentarily think the whole thing is distracting him, and the anger that surfaces underneath his skin at the thought has Changbin pressing his lips into a thin line. He ignores the way J-One’s gaze flits down, fleeting, to them as he does so.

He’s almost sure J-One continues, just a monologue now, but Changbin focuses instead on the whole reason he’s here: to kill. To eliminate. To report back of his success; restore order. The purpose he has in these convictions spurs him to concentrate his ether tightly where his heart uselessly occupies his thoracic cavity, pushing into it as if to will the organ to beat again. J-One’s lips stop moving then, instead gaping open slightly like he’s just put the pieces together that he’s about to die and unceremoniously shuffle off this wretched mortal coil. Changbin does not take any satisfaction with the prospect; he’s only bound to obey.

Twisting his fists tighter on the grip of his scythe he digs his feet in the dirt, legs spread, swinging the blade behind him with force. J-One makes the rookie mistake of not watching his own footwork, tripping over something in the dirt—a pebble maybe; a brick that was once known as some sod’s chimney—and rather poetically falls backwards as Changbin brings his scythe down, slicing right across J-One’s chest, deep and purposeful. When J-One’s back hits the ground he coughs, more sputters really, eyes momentarily rolling back into his skull.

And Changbin stands above him, legs on either side of his torso, scythe twirled into a position of the blade pointed down, intent clear and precise; motions practiced and sure. Only J-One’s eyes find their composure and tumble back so he gazes up at Changbin. There’s something dark swirling in his irises, something as resolute as Changbin’s desire to end this dance, but it is not Changbin who makes the curtain call. He does not close out the act despite the tip of his scythe resting assuredly against J-One’s neck; despite the blood already being drawn from the pressure he’s placed there.

“I meant it, you know,” J-One whispers like a confession to the wind alone, “you truly are beautiful, Seo Changbin.”

Binsung fic? in this economy??

well hey there.

i am indeed alive, arguably. i debated whether or not to post any writing here anymore but i'm determined to procrastinate studying for two finals i have tomorrow so here we gooooo.

this will be in two parts, but a brief elaboration or w/e: both excerpts are from a mammoth WIP fic i have been working on for over a year now i think? i don't work on anything resembling a consistent basis and found that posting my WIPs in their chronological order just ended up backfiring in terms of spurring motivation. as such, these are both excerpts from in the middle of the fic and designed to not make any bloody sense in terms of you all understanding fully wtf is going on. i just really like these scenes and i think they paint a good picture of the general feel of the first half of the fic's plot so indulge me, o grand internet, as i struggle for crumbs of serotonin.

i think i'm going to post them in replies to this post cuz my explanation here ended up being the total opposite of brief lol. i'll provide a general summary of the fic, even though once again the excerpts won't make a lick of sense since no context. i'd post the prologue too but i don't like it enough and want to rework the first few pages of the fic itself lol.

anyway! it's a Binsung fic from Stray Kids, a fandom i haven't posted anywhere on the internet before yet despite the fact that i'm a total fucking simp lol. enjoy :')