#Seven First Kisses

[korelist]

SEVEN FIRST KISSES // KDRAMA DİZİ YORUMU

UYARI : Yazılar genel olarak spoiler içerebilir. İçermeyedebilir.

Drama: Seven First Kisses

Hangul: 첫키스만 일곱번째

Director: Jung Jung-hwa

Date: 2016

Language: Korean

Country: South Korea

Cast: Lee Cho-hee, Choi Ji-woo, Lee Joon-gi, Park Hae-jin, Ji Chang-wook, Kim Jong-in, Ok Taec-yeon, Lee Jong-suk, Lee Min-ho

Aslında bu minik diziye yorum yapmak pek mantıklı değil ama izlemişken minikten anlatayım. İlk başta üniversite bitirme projesi gibi gelmişti. Sonra öğrendim ki meğer dizi reklam filmi olarak çekilmiş. Lotte World tanıtım amaçlı böyle bir fikir atmış ortaya. Her sene birkaç ünlü ile çektikleri reklam filmini bir tık öteye götüren firma 9 farklı ünlü ile çalışma fırsatı yakalamış.

Kadın karakterimiz Lee Cho-hee, Lotte Duty Free'de danışmada çalışıyor. 25 yaşına gelmiş ancak hiç ciddi ilişkisi olmamış bu yaşına kadar hiç öpüşmemiş. Bir gün bilmeden yardım ettiği Choi Ji-woo ona bir dilek hakkı veriyor. Karakterimiz ise dillendirmese de bir erkek arkadaşı olmasını ve “first kiss” anını yaşamak istediğini içinden geçiriyor. Gizemli kadın rolündeki Choi Ji-woo da ona 6 adet kart verip 10sn içinde mükemmel bir adamla tanışacağını söylüyor ve ortadan kayboluyor.

8-12dakikadan oluşan 8 bölümlük bir seri izliyoruz. Her bölüm başka bir ünlü ile bir gün geçiren kadın oyuncumuz, yakışıklı erkeklerle yakınlaşıp tam öpüşmek üzereyken yeni bir güne geçiyor. ünlülerimiz ise kendi isimleriyle ama farklı karakterler ile karşımıza çıkıyor.

İlk sahneye gelen isim Lee Joon-gi oluyor. Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo ve The Flower of Evil dizilerinde kendine hayran bırakan “Bay Mükemmel”! karakteri küçüklüğünden beri kızımıza aşık olan çok zengin, kibar ve düşünceli bir erkeği canlandırıyor.

Hemen arkasından Park Hae-jin geliyor. My Love From the Star ve Cheese in the Trap gibi dizilerde dikkatleri üzerine çeken “Romantik Patron”! Uzaktan başrolümüzü izleyen, koruyan tehlikeli ve sahiplenici bir erkeği canlandırıyor.

Üçüncü yakışıklımız ise Ji Chang-wook. The sound of magic, Healer, K2, Backstreet Rookie gibi dizilerden tanıdığımız kaslı oyuncu “Seksi Gizli ajan” rolünde karşımıza çıkıyor. Hikayeye göre başrolümüz ile eski ajanlar ve bir görev sırasında Lee Cho-hee ile tekrar buluşmak zorunda kalıyor.

Aksiyonlu idolümüzü geride bıraktıktan sonra Kpop grubu EXO’nun üyesi olan Kim Jong-in, nam-ı diğer KAI’ye sıra geliyor. “Büyüleyici Öğrenci” rolü ile sahneye çıkıyor. Çinceyi çok iyi bilen başrolümüz sözde Kai’nin dil öğretmenliğini yapıyormuş.

Hemen arkasından, Ok Taec-yeon tehlikeli cazibesi ile bize doğru yürüyor. Vincenzo dizisindeki eşsiz oyunculuğu ile tanıdığımız bu isim “Zengin ailenin masum oğlu” rolüne bürünüyor. Hikayeye göre kızımız ile uzun süredir sevgililer ve ailesi kızımızı kabul etmiyor.

Hız kesmeden sahneyi Lee Jong-suk alıyor. W: Two Worlds Apart ve Romance is a Bonus Book dizilerinde sevdiğimiz ama Big Mouth dizisinde tekrar tekrar kendine hayran bırakan oyuncumuz burada da yine ünlü bir yıldızı canlandırıyor. Başrolümüz ile reklam filmi çektikleri bir kurguda yakınlaşmalarını izliyoruz.

Ve 6 kartımız bittikten sonra tam birini seçmesi gerekirken, sürpriz bir 7.kart ortaya çıkıyor; “Özgür Ruhlu Gezgin” Lee Min Ho. The Legend of the Blue Sea ve The King: Eternal Monarch dizilerinden tanıdığımız aktör diğer 6 yakışıklının aksine kızı tanımıyor. Kendisi ünlü bir yazar olarak bulunuyor.

Lee Cho-hee’nin ismini ve cismini ilk kez gördüm. Tek söyleyebileceğim şanslı olduğu 😊 güzel olmayan hatta bence aktörlerin yanında fazla yaşlı kalan bir oyuncuydu. Reklam filmi olmasından dolayı çok yorum yapmaya gerek yok. İzleyici bakımından keyifli 1 saat geçirmemizi sağlayan ilginç bir seri olmuş diyebilirim.

Raven Melus

BAŞKA NELER VAR ?

FOTOĞRAFLAR

[hitlikehammers]

(not your average) seven minutes ⏰ ♥️

or: what if Steve had been ‘playfully’ locked into a room by his drunken not-friends at that infamous Halloween party in 1984, for 💕Seven Minutes in Heaven💞!

…and no one realized Eddie Munson was already hiding inside 🫥

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

rating: t ♥️ tags: s2 era, alternate meeting, that ONE HALLOWEEN PARTY (you know which one), steve meets eddie immediately after nancy does her drunken bullshit thing, seven minutes in heaven meets truth or dare, (weirdly more effective than you’d think), first kiss(es), fluff, humor, boys being boys, climbing out of windows (like a ninja🥷), getting together (?) ♥️

again: originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo forever ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because it’s going to have a sequel show up soon for @steddielovemonth—which I thank profusely for giving me the kick in the ass required to revisit and actually try to finish this series!

“Oh my fucking god.”

Steve honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start crying or throwing up quicker, like which one’s closest to the surface; keeping his balance as the shock, the jagged parts that draw blood when your heart gets crushed to shards leaving him susceptible—pathetic, fucking pathetic— to the pushing and pulling and grabbing of the throngs of trashed partygoers shoving him away from the front door, pushing harder every time he tripped up the stairs, laughing and yelling and chanting and fuck, fuck he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, just that it’s not his car, and then his house, and then his bed where he can…let it all come crashing down and not have a fucking audience, just: goddamn.

As soon as a door’s thrown open and she’s shoved to stumble hard, catch his nails to bending, bleeding against the light switch as the lock clicks behind him—well fuck.

He gets it now.

Fuck.

“Not what you were expecting behind Door Number One?”

Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which is familiar and then, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s—

It’s a good voice, basically.

And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak, half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes but…it does something.

It does something Steve doesn’t want to dwell on, the kind of thing he’s kinda been working really hard and doing pretty fucking well and not dwelling on but then…maybe like, any other night, any other hour of any other night? Steve maybe would have turned, and at least tried to force the door open; maybe he’d have pushed it down like he’s been getting real good at, almost to the point where he doesn’t even have to think about it, the thing itself or the pushing it down: in fact he’s absolutely sure he’d have done just that. Any other night. After any other fucking night.

But it’s all bullshit anyway, so like, why even bother, what does any of it even matter, Barb’s dead, blood’s on his hands apparently for a pool he doesn’t even fucking pay for, his love’s fucking nothing and the voice from the corner, hell, even the jawline the flame’s casting sharp every other second, every flip open then stealing away with every flip closed: that’s something and so, like.

Any other night. It’d be different.

But it’s this night.

“I wasn’t expecting any door except the one on the front driver’s side of my goddamn car, man,” Steve sighs and throws his weight against a dresser—plain. Really plain—kid’s room. Not too young. Boy’s room. Little brother of…fuck, Steve can’t even remember whose house they’re in.

“I can see where this would definitely count as,” Munson’s tongue runs almost contemplatively over his lips as he tips his head; “a deviation from the plan.”

Steve snorts; he means it to sound amused, because he is that. Honestly he is.

But it sounds like it get halfway there, before it nosedives a little into a half-stifled sob.

Goddamnit.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Oh. So not only is he recognizable, he’s also recognizably not fucking okay.

That’s just great.

“My girlfriend says I’m bullshit,” Steve has no fucking idea what makes him just say it, to basically a stranger at that, and fuck, no, not a stranger: this stranger, who Steve knows enough of but who Steve’s pretty sure knows too many things about him for comfort, just—he doesn’t know what makes him say it. “That loving her is bullshit.”

Actually: probably that’s it. Bullshit, versus something. Munson’s eyes stay fixed on him the whole time, even as he keeps flicking the lighter.

“Does,” Munson starts, and in his good-voice, he sounds almost, like, hesitant. Which isn’t a way Steve really associates with the guy, if he associates anything with him at all but apparently yeah, he does, because he’s absolutely certain this shit’s out of the norm: “like, not to be a dick, seriously,” yeah, yeah: this is like a gentle voice. Careful. Care…caring?

And, like…why?

“But does that mean she’s still your girlfriend?”

Oh. Pity might be why. That’s fun.

“Shit,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, fucks his hair up even more than it’s been which is possibly not even possible. “Probably not.”

Munson lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle, and looks genuinely regretful—again, why, most of the people he hangs out with would probably celebrate Steve’s suffering, so like, what the fuck—

“That sucks man,” Munson says, honest, like, really honest as he para down his…surprisingly tight jeans until he extracts a pre-roll from the front picked and holds it out in offering: “on the house.”

Steve needs that shit bad enough for it to be maybe the only thing he doesn’t question in all of this.

“Thanks,” he says as Munson holds out a light and Steve leans in; the guy smells of party sweat and too many bodies, of Kate autumn air and cheap cologne. He smells…

It’s a good smell. It matches his good voice.

“You wanna?” Steve offers on impulse after he takes a lungful and maybe a little more, maybe a little too much—greedy, needy, bullshit—and holds it back to Eddie as he breathes out slow, tries to keep it all in as long as he can but not…not in a pushing-it-down kind of way. More a making-the-most kind of way.

“Do you wanna?” Munson asks, eyes so wide, like a baby animal or something. Like a cartoon character. Steve just keeps holding the joint out to him, close enough that his lips will touch Steve’s fingers if he wants them to, and in Steve’s head he feels like he’ll call him Eddie, in his head, if his mouth brushes his skin.

It does.

Eddie it is, then.

And Steve’s real good at shoving down things like the way his heart skips and fucking jumps, runs a little—he’s good at it.

But not tonight.

“They always double the time, ‘specially when they think they’re being funny,” Steve licks his fingers where Eddie’s mouth had touched because why the fuck not, and he slides down the simple preteen dresser and leans back on the palms of his hands as he sighs out the words and the remaining smoke in his lungs, but let’s go of none of the taste he’d lapped off the skin around his knuckles. Not that. “Probably longer than that if they’re as drunk as they looked.”

“Ah,” Eddie kinda, almost, hums through the purse of his lips before he offers the smoke back Steve’s way, and if Steve makes sure his lips drag over Eddie’s fingers, what fucking of it. It does make the space between his inhale and Eddie’s willingness to say any more words out loud a long quiet pause where Steve’s pulse runs high between his collarbones but it’s…it’s not bad. And Steve kinda wants to keep that in his back pocket, for later: the thing he’s gotten so good and pushing down might not feel so goddamn bad, up near the surface where it’s still able to breathe.

Huh.

“So you’re up here on a mission,” Eddie finally says, a little choked but not like you choke on a weird drag, y’know? Different choking. Steve feels the urge to smirk and while he doesn’t give into it?

It’s definitely there.

“As far as they’re concerned,” Steve says with…Steve doesn’t know what he says it with. How he says it. How he means it.

“You don’t look drunk,” Eddie saves him from dwelling on that particular unknown, lets him course correct with a little scoff.

It also distracts him from how Eddie sits next to him. Not too close, but still pretty fucking close.

“I know my limits.” Which is why he takes back the joint without a single thought and does the maybe-too-much thing, because it feels good, and lets himself look for the taste of Eddie on the paper: salt and a tang of something and then sweetness, like fucking candy.

It’s a good taste.

“I’m probably a little drunk,” Eddie declares without sounding it at all, and taking to the eeed again without a secondly hesitation; “more like tipsy, really, if that, but still, totally not my style,” he frowns, like it really isn’t, like he’s disappointed in himself. It’s kinda…cute.

Fuck.

“I don’t touch shit at these parties but I was thirsty as fuck,” Eddie gestures with his free hand, and it’s the first time Steve’s notices how his run at glint: good hands; “haven’t eaten all day and thought I’d beat the punch spiking.”

“Aww, man,” Steve moans on Eddie’s behalf, sympathetic; “the punch is always pre-spiked.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie nods, holding the joint to Steve’s lips straight on this time, and Steve thinks nothing of breathing in without touching it himself, letting Eddie decide when to pull it back. “Point being, on an empty stomach, even one such as myself,” Eddie gestures broadly at his person with the nearly-spent smoke: “is not immune.”

Steve huffs a little laugh; he kinda wants it to be bigger but he’s feeling…soft. Nice.

Good.

“So we’ve got somewhere between seven and…” Eddie glances at his wrist as if he’s expecting a watch there; Steve wants to know if he forgot one he normally wears or if it’s all for show: “thirty minutes, by your estimation?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve shrugs. You can never really know for sure.

“You umm,” Eddie ventures after a few seconds; “you want to talk about, umm,” and he trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Not,” Steve’s saying before really thinking;“not really.” It’s actually kind of weird how much he means it, too. “I was trying to get home.”

“Drown your sorrows?” Eddie surmises, but Steve shakes his head.

“Wasn’t even gonna bother,” and his asshole father’s got the good shit, too; Steve probably could have managed a decent bit of wallowing with minimal hangover. “Just wanted to get out, clear my,” he clears his throat, though he’s not sure why, doesn’t really thing he needs it: “head.”

Then Steve turns to look at Eddie only to find Eddie already looking straight at him.

That’s…that’s something.

“Then they shoved me in here because they’re all fucking assholes,” Steve chuckles a little, does his damn best to make it clear he’s only calling the dickheads downstairs assholes; not…not Eddie.

Like it was an asshole move to shove him in here but, not because of Eddie.

Like, at all.

“And drunk off their asses,” Eddie grins, a very good grin, and Steve matches it as best he’s able because it means his comments landed okay, the right way; “swear I didn’t sell anything hard enough to be the culprit.” Steve snorts, and Eddie matches that and all the matching feels…it feels.

“It’s funny though,” Eddie comments, a little idly once the laughter’s echoed out. Steve tilts his head, all question.

“No one knew I was in here,” Eddie gestures to the whole of the not-very-big room. “It’d be one thing to prank you and shove you in here with me, ha ha,” he tosses his head back and forth and sticks out his tongue like Steve knows he’s done on the tables in the cafeteria more than once but it’s softer, here, it’s almost warm or playful and maybe a little self…deprecating? Steve thinks that’s the word but whatever the word is, Steve doesn’t love that it’s there alongside everything else.

“I mean, insulting as shit to you, so they probably wouldn’t have done that to you,” and Steve frowns because yeah, these parts are thinks he loves at all; “you’re still royalty,” and Eddie pops on an accent and bows his head and it’s not mocking like it would be in school, but.

Steve doesn’t fucking love that either.

“Fuck that,” Steve’s quick to kind of…bite out. Like, hard. “And hell, if I am fucking royalty,” he air-quotes the word because fuck it, fuck it all; “it’s not for much longer.”

Eddie settles, and watches Steve almost…careful. Like maybe he’s looking for something. Or else, he’s taking the time to really get something from whatever he does see.

It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with being looked at to be seen.

“Think I’ll be glad to be rid of it, to be honest,” Steve says, picks at the beds of his nails a little, something he’s learned from all the girls he’s dated for a few days here and there—distraction.

But he means it, he realizes that for absolute certain as soon as he says it.

“Huh,” Eddie finally says, and it’s said…like it means something.

Something maybe…good. Or like it could be. Can be.

Huh.

“Anyway, they would have thought the room was empty,” Eddie picks back up, stretches a little and oh. Oh wow, he’s got a long neck when it’s all stretched out. It’s…it looks good.

Then Eddie cuts his gaze sly toward Steve and smirks: “Who were you supposed to fucking have your seven heavenly minutes with?”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks lazily back in Eddie’s direction.

“My hand?”

Eddie’s eyes widen a little, and they’re…they’re really close, like, either Steve didn’t notice before or they’ve gotten closer.

Eddie’s lips are…really close.

“Oh, well,” those close lips are saying, but that good voice is kinda too-soft for the tease: “don’t let me interrupt.”

Steve blinks a couple times, to make sure he heard right.

“Sorry, that was—“ Eddie starts to walk it back but once Steve’s done with his blinking?

He fucking busts out laughing. Like…the embarrassing, snorting, pitchy kind of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasps a little, waving Eddie’s concern away because it was, it was: “That was funny, man.”

Maybe Steve thinks it’s too funny. But once Eddie shifts from shocked to something more like pleasantly surprised?

It feels like it was the perfect level of funny.

“Okay,” Eddie says as his grin grows but gets ducked into his chin, as his hand fumbles for a stand of his hair like he can hide behind it, which is silly, and weird.

And…endearing. Steve wants to see what that strand of hair feels like.

Also weird. Maybe silly. Maybe too much, maybe bullshit—

“Hey,” Eddie’s leaning toward him, and if Steve thought they were close before, that was a fucking lie in comparison because holy fucking wow, is Eddie close. He’s got freckles on his nose. Steve never would have guessed. “Want me to be funny some more?” He asks, a little loud, a little too bout any and bouncy and…like he means it, like he wants to be this thing but not so much for himself, or else not just for himself, but for Steve.

No one does shit like that for Steve.

“Your eyes are too pretty to be sad.”

Steve’s eyes aren’t too fucking pretty to nearly pop out their goddamn sockets when those words register in his ears, in his brain, make his chest tight in a kinda fucking terrifying way but such a good way and Eddie looks so scared, and Eddie’s eyes are too pretty to be scared and, oh shit.

“Truth or dare?”

The question kinda just pops out, which is…not ideal but better than his eyes doing that, so: win. And Eddie’s eyes shift from scared to stunned, confused—both better options. Double win.

“What?”

Steve clears his throat this time because you genuinely fucking needs it. “Gotta do something to pass however many minutes they leave us here, don’t we?”

Because it was definitely a seven-minutes-in-heaven set up. And Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve passed so far but he wants it to be a while longer that they’ve got left and distractions, distractions to keep from dwelling—

“Truth.”

Oh. Alright.

“Just my eyes?”

That, Steve clocks right after saying it, is the exact opposite of not fucking dwelling. He feels a little sick.

But his heart’s leaping like it’s never been free of a fucking cage until this moment, so it’s confusing.

Eddie looks confused too, so on top of it: Steve’s not even alone. In being confused.

And Steve’s alone so much. This is…kinda nice.

Kinda good.

“Is it just my eyes that are too pretty?” Steve says, for clarity. And Eddie swallows so hard Steve can hear it; fuck, he swallows hard enough it has to hurt.

“No,” Eddie says, tiny and faint before he straights his spine and looks Steve straight on: intentional.

Bracing for impact.

“Truth or dare.”

Steve’s kinda tired of being daring on principle. Generally. He’s terrified of the truth but…shit.

“Truth.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eddie doesn’t say it mean. But he does say it in a way Steve couldn’t have lied to him about if he wanted to even try.

He doesn’t though. Want to try.

“Literally or, like, figuratively?”

The implications of that answer hit a little belatedly and Steve feels his cheeks go read as Eddie’s breath punches straight out of his lungs:

“Jesus H. Christ—“

“No, to both,” Steve answers quick before he loses his nerve, because maybe the truth was as daring, more daring even, than anything else. “Not even a little bit. For either.”

Eddie’s throat works around words he doesn’t say for a long stretch of seconds. Steve’s heart’s in his throat so, he thinks he kinda gets the feeling.

“Truth or Dare,” he forces out. Because it’s his turn.

“Dare,” Eddie barely breathes. Steve wasn’t expecting that, but the ready response makes it clear that deep down, he was hoping.

“Give me my seven minutes.”

Eddie freezes. Coughs. Pales a little before he stumbles over words less like he’s avoiding anything and more like he’s really that unbalanced. Shocked out of sync.

“With your hand?” he asks, a little squeak in the pitch of his voice. “Like, turns my back, cover my ears?”

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. Nervous but…undeniably fond.

“No, dipshit.” The implication is…pretty fucking clear.

“You’re heartbroken,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe less that I thought I’d be,” Steve answers honestly, surprises himself; and maybe that’s for a damn good reason, too. “You’re ‘tipsy’.”

“Increasingly less so by the goddamn second,” Eddie confesses, his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips before flickering back up, so so wide:

“Harrington,” he whispers, sounding kinda lost; “I don’t—“

“It’s fine, if you,” Steve’s quick to regroup, even though his pulse is trying to choke him—stupid, needy, idiot, too much, greedy, dumbass, fucking bullshit; “you can forget it.”

Steve would like to forget it, kinda immediately; letting himself want. Letting himself try.

“I don’t,” Eddie starts again, but Steve can’t stand it, can’t beat it: that good good voice trying to make this anything but a goddamn catastrophe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t like, mean to,” and fuck, Steve’s not only clearly suggested some very dangerous things about himself he’s only starting to even be willing to think about coming to grips with but what about what he’s assumed, implied about Eddie, guys don’t take lightly to that shit, oh fucking hell; “I don’t, you know, like, do this,” he tries to salvage, and even he knows it’s a pathetic attempt; “like this—“

“I don’t fuck around with straight boys as a rule, see,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, color high on his cheeks; “keeps my poor squishy gay heart from bruising.”

And Eddie; oh, oh—

Those eyes are too damn pretty to look so scared.

And maybe it’s less about truth being safer than a dare, maybe both are a risk in their own way and maybe…maybe both just require that you’re brave.

Steve can try to be brave, maybe. Just this once. This one night that’s different, where he’s not pushing it all down.

“If I told you,” he says slowly, so slowly because it’s hard to fight what he knows so we’ll; “if I said I didn’t know, yet, how much of a bend there might be in my kind of…straight?” Steve frowns, brow furrowed; that came out so goddamn weird, but he makes himself look at Eddie when he asks:

“Would that change anything?”

Eddie gapes at him, a little like a fish, and Steve goes back to the beginning: he’s equally likely to start sobbing as he is likely to throw the fuck up—but Eddie blinks, and his head tilts and he reaches slow, tentative, like he doesn’t know if he’s really allowed but also like he wants to make sure Steve can cut and run before his hand meets Steve’s cheek.

He is allowed, though. He’s…Steve is pretty sure he’s fucking welcome.

“Would,” Eddie murmurs incredulously, thumbing Steve’s lower lip before he does the slow thing, leaning while leaving an out but Steve doesn’t want a goddamn out.

He moves forward in a blink and kisses Eddie with all the skill and know-how he’s woven together into making the people he kisses feel good, and he puts his whole self in, all the concentration and focus and investment he’s got to make it…great, if he can.

But then something kind of wild happens.

Because it kinda feels like Eddie is…doing the same thing. Like Eddie wants Steve to feel all those things just as big and sure.

Steve doesn’t…Steve’s never been kissed like this. Like that. Like his half of the deal isn’t just a given.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, though: Steve has to run on pure instinct; his partner never does that shit first.

It’s fucking amazing. And given the moans he gets, the wet sucking sounds and the panting before they reconnect again, then again: Steve’s willing to bet his instincts are pretty solid.

They finally break for more than a second and Eddie’s hands come to Steve’s chest for balance as he gasps, as his hair falls in a curtain between them and Steve’s barely got the breath in him to speak yet when he covers one of Eddie’s hands with his own and half-whispers.

“Come on,” and he’s tugging Eddie to standing, both of them a little wobbly on their feet for a second or two before Eddie stills.

“We’re locked in,” he seems to remember in real time, like the whole kissing thing—not quite seven minutes; maybe more than seven minutes; not e-fucking-nough either way—knocked reasonable thought out of him for a second, there.

“The window,” Steve’s prepared for it, leads him over with their hands still kinda just covering each other, kinda holding one another, kinda a lot of things. “I’ve been here before, we can get out,” because yeah, he knows the house even if he still doesn’t remember who it belongs to; “and you haven’t eaten,” Steve remembers that clear as day, frowning at Eddie, almost scolding him.

Eddie lights up, though. Like maybe there are things no one’s really ever thought of for Eddie, too. Like, maybe Steve wasn’t the only one finding out someone could…pay attention.

Like he was worth paying attention to.

And like…Eddie? Steve doesn’t know exactly what to do with all the things that are tied up in everything he pushes down, where they’re bubbling up and seeping from his pore or some shit, but what he does know, without a doubt?

Eddie Munson is very much worth paying attention to.

“What the hell’s even open,” Eddie says, and Steve takes a second to add it up—food, he needs food—and he grins, and like…he kinda can’t help it? He definitely doesn’t think about it before he kisses Eddie, hard and quick and more smile in it than…he kinda remembers having, or giving, like…

More than he remembers. At all.

Huh.

“Benny’s if we’re quick,” Steve breaks off and pushes the window open; “otherwise the kitchen at Casa Harrington makes a hell of a TV dinner this time of night,” he tosses a grin Eddie’s way that’s nothing like he uses on the girls, he can tell, can feel it: it’s goofy and sincere and…yeah. “Probably got like a Salisbury steak one.”

It’s Eddie who leans, quicker and more like he’s stealing it, like he’s sneaking it and jumping back quick just in case he gets caught and it’s in doing that exactly that Steve has the incredibly clear sense, amidst all the unclear shit in his chest and his brain and his everything, that he…wants to catch Eddie.

“Fancy,” Eddie grins, and oh fuck.

Oh fuck, those dimples.

“Only the best for my honored guests,” Steve pokes one of those heavenly fucking dimples and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s making sure the window won’t fall on them as them climb down when Eddie leans close, looks down, and talks really close to Steve’s ear:

“They’re a reason we didn’t bail from the get-go?”

Steve wouldn’t hide the way he shivers if he tried.

“Honestly?” Steve chuckles, light with it, maybe…and he’s not sure okay, he could be making shit up and talking out his ass but, like, maybe he’s…

Free with it. Free with it?

He looks at Eddie who’s still grinning, dimples and all.

Free’s close enough.

“I don’t know, wasn’t really thinking,” Steve admits, and then tries the brave thing one more time: “truth or dare?”

Eddie’s answer is immediate, leaned close again against Steve’s shoulder, close at his ear:

“Truth.”

“Will you be angry if I said I wasn’t mad,” Steve turns, and their lips are so close: “that I didn’t think of leaving from the start?”

“Oddly enough?” Eddie grins so near that just the motion brushes their mouths. “Not even a little bit.” Then Eddie leans closer, means to, and doesn’t run like he’s stealing anything this time when he kisses Steve like he means it.

Then he’s speaking straight against Steve’s lips: “Truth or dare?”

And fuck it; everything’s been mixed up, shattered, rebuilt, turned inside out tonight. So far it’s turning out way better than Steve could have guessed. Definitely so much better than it started.

Might as well keep running with it.

“Dare.”

Eddie grins but there’s a heat to it, but then alongside, there’s something…mischievous. And then Eddie’s bumping his head into Steve’s and murmuring close:

“You climb down first and catch my ass when I inevitably fall halfway,” he issues his challenger; “I’m uncoordinated as shit.”

And Steve was wrong before.

The kiss he gives Eddie has more smile in it than he’s ever had, or shown, or shared before; not once in his whole goddamn life.

He could get used to it.

🧡

also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[merlyn-bane]

WIP Tag Game Fill

I was tagged for some Sunday sentences by @lttrsfrmlnrrgby and a Last Line Challenge by @bluemaskedkarma, so y'all can have,,,,many sentences lmao. These are from my @codywanfirstkissbingo fill for the making out square, also known as the omegaverse wedding fic 😌😌

"Dude, are you checking fucking rugby scores on your phone right now?" Rex hisses under his breath, quietly enough not to draw attention to themselves. Cody glances sidelong at his brother and shrugs, unashamed. This wedding has been dull as shit so far, and they'd only had to attend the reception. The speeches had all been incredibly scripted and unremarkable, without even any real teasing or embarrassing anecdotes for entertainment (and Cody can hazard a few guesses why, considering the stern-looking old man that seems to be lording over the whole event and stared down anyone that happened to be holding the microphone at any given moment), and the food is…well. Cody's sure it was expensive. Their family takes up most of one table just by themselves, thankfully—he can't even imagine the sort of mind-numbing bullshit most of the guests here are willing to talk about—but even his brothers aren't enough to change the fact that he feels like he's watching paint dry. Especially when they've all been threatened into "good behavior". "If I get any more bored," he mutters back, "I might actually let Buir set me up with an alpha just for something to do." Rex scowls, his entire face screwing up with disgust. "Gross, man," he grumbles. He peers over at Cody's phone where Cody's holding it half-hidden under the table. "Who's winning?"

Hang in there Cody, don't worry, this wedding is about to get a whole lot more interesting and a whole lot more fun for you 😏😏

No pressure tags (for either Sunday sentences or last lines, whichever you wanna do) to @happybean17, @loverboy-havocboy, @snowywinterevenings, @raphaerolo, and @smoosey <3

[knifearo]

reminder to everyone that trauma IS a valid reason to use aspec labels. "i don't know if i'm aspec or just traumatized—" protip!!! you can be both!!!! the thing about labels is that they're not immutable states of being that you're born as. they're literally just words that we use to describe our lived experiences, and if asexual or aromantic or any related label feel relevant to the way that you experience attraction, whether it's a result of trauma or not, they're there for you to use. having trauma as a cause does not invalidate the fact that someone is experiencing lesser or no attraction. that's still the aspec experience babey. use the label if you want it's there for you <3

[artist-issues]

I have to make one more point, because I think it's very important.

The words used in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs for the cure to her curse are: "Love's First Kiss" not "True Love's Kiss."

It's not "a kiss of love that is the most genuine from your one true soulmate." It's "the long-awaited culmination of giving your heart to someone for the first time."

In modern adaptations, like Once Upon a Time or (the much more forgivable) Enchanted, we change the phrasing so that it's all about this magical idea of soulmates. But in this first cartoon, it makes much more sense to be about a FIRST kiss, not just a kiss from "the most special" someone special.

Snow White is the youngest Disney Princess. Her young age is not hidden or matured like some of the other princesses--she is fourteen, she moves like a little girl, she's drawn with the baby-roundness of a little girl, and she's called "the little princess!" by the only character who is an example of a regular subject in the Kingdom: the Huntsman. So, one) she's very young.

And two) she's totally innocent and pure. Those two traits are all of what Snow White represents in the movie. That's what the Queen really doesn't have: innocent purity. The Queen doesn't want anyone to know she's a wicked witch consumed with herself; that's why all her magical wares are kept in secret catacombs. But like I've said before, Snow White hides nothing about herself--she doesn't need to--she's an open-hearted, innocent child who boldly and sweetly tells everyone that she's wishing for love and has found it in her Prince.

So she's 1) very young and 2) innocent and pure.

All of this makes the most sense for Love's First Kiss, not "True Love's Kiss," for the same reasons that her "being awoken by a kiss without consent" in this story is actually totally correct and right. (Because she already gave her consent when they met; she promised him her her heart by sending a kiss on a dove, and he promised his)

What I'm saying is, the story is about a little, innocent girl's first, pure experience with love. She wishes for love, has a longing for the idea of love, and is even promised love by the Prince but has to wait and wait and wait until that promise is fulfilled.

That's why the song is "Someday" My Prince Will Come. That's why the title of the kiss stresses being her FIRST, not her TRUEST. It's this idea, not if soulmates, but of waiting until the time is right for love.

It's in Song of Solomon. "Do not awaken love until it pleases." In our modern age, we just run around getting as much "experience" with love as we can. With all of that stupid "experience" comes the added need to figure out which experience is the best and truest one: hence, we change the phrase to "True Love's" Kiss.

But classical fairy tales and the Bible knew better. It's not about figuring it out for yourself. It's about waiting patiently and purely until the time is right, not forcing it, and trusting the other person until the commitment is fulfilled. In fact, I hate to even say it, but the Queen convinces Snow White to bite into an apple that is poisoned by telling her it will fulfill her wish—which is for true love—and which, if it had been true, would have been a shortcut to getting her Prince to come.

Anyway, the point is, Snow White is wishing for the One she loves; The Prince has One heart tenderly beating only for her.

Only him fulfilling his promise and carrying her to this suspiciously heaven-like castle can wake her from her sleep.

It's all about a trust placed, a promise fulfilled, a patience rewarded, a purity purifying--not a worth proven.

Love's First Kiss is way better than True Love's Kiss. It's the first kiss that should be the truest, because it was patiently waited for.

[watchyourbuck]

First of all congrats! It is rare for mainstream character to be canon !!

I have a general question - Is there also a another canon gay char on the show?

I think I saw 911 men kissing before on tumblr but idk if was an edit.

Also is Buck ? (the bi one) a main character or side char?

Just curious I have seen the 911 fandom from others but idk what is going on

Hii so a quick rundown:

Buck is a main, regular character of the show.

There are other queer characters on the show.

One of them is a main character, which is Henrietta Wilson. Her wife is a secondary character.

There’s also Josh, who works at dispatch, he’s a gay man who happens to be secondary, although he appears quite a bit.

There was also Michael, who was kind of a main character for a few seasons, but eventually disappeared. He had a partner, but they never actually kissed on screen.

They’ve had also queer background characters, but I don’t remember seeing them kiss.

If you’ve seen gifs of men kissing from 911 it could be an edit, but anyone’s welcomed to correct me if im wrong!

Update: I’ve been informed I forgot about TK and Carlos from 911 Lone Star!

[prosebushpatch]

In my humble opinion, the successful retellings of Snow White take the relationship between Snow and the Wicked Queen and really dig into why the queen is so desperate to be beautiful and why Snow is still the fairest because of her kindness.

My favorite examples of this are Gail Carson Levine's Fairest, and the movie Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarves. In both of these retellings, Snow White is conventionally unattractive. And how society views Snow White in these stories is drastically different from how they view the Wicked Queen. There is a privilege to being beautiful. Both Snow White and the Wicked Queen know this. But the Wicked Queen will do anything to have that privilege--that power--over her subjects. Whether it's to use her beauty to manipulate people or because she's desperate for love is what makes her such an interesting character. Snow White, on the other hand, gets a taste of how people would treat her if she was conventionally attractive, at least in these stories. And when she realizes that people are finally able to appreciate her or praise her or HELP HER because of her looks, she's forced to ask herself the question whether she'll choose to keep being "beautiful" or if she'll go back to being herself because society's definition of beauty isn't worth the cost.

Snow White and the Wicked Queen are foils. They represent how conventional beauty standards can pressure woman and pit them against each other. They represent how a mother, related by blood or not, can become jealous because the simple act of growing older makes her less attractive than her daughter in society's eyes and that means she's going to be treated differently as a result.

All this to say, if you turn Snow White's story into Snow White becomes a "Strong Independent Female Who Doesn't Need Any Prince And Is Growing Into the Leader She was Born to Be" then you lose that commentary about what true beauty is. You lose the chance to ask what makes someone the fairest and why. If you aren't asking why the Wicked Queen wants to be the fairest to the point of having a huntsman cut out a child's heart, then you're missing out on the entire point of the fairy tale.

[sofia-not-sophie]

Help I’m thinking too hard about the unexplored world building implications of the seven kisses lead to pregnancy in a world where there seems to be/have been a patriarchy and also somehow it works interspecially despite humans and akiridions having entirely different modes of existence/bodily function

[resident-gay-bitch]

seven minutes in heaven? more like seven minutes to question my entire existence.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve being content in his bisexuality because after Robin came out to him he started researching and questioning and having deep dark conversations with her.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie having no clue he was gay because of course he wasn’t. And anytime a whisper of that terrifying question popped into his head he blocked it out because he couldn’t be anymore of a Freak, or a disappointment to his father. And he really couldn’t let Wayne down after all he has done for him.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve and Robin being sure Eddie was gay and often talking about it together, and about Steve’s definite crush on him and about this game of cat and mouse the pair were playing. Steve was just waiting for Eddie to make the first real move, because he was sick of playing the ‘guy’ in the relationship, and he was sick of doing the chasing, and Eddie was bold and confident and liked to tease.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie having no clue Steve was bi, or that Robin was gay, or about anyone’s sexualities or anything because he just didn’t think about that stuff. He didn’t need to.

Whatever you do, don’t think about the party having a sleepover in Mike Wheelers basement, sleeping bags strewn about the room and snacks everywhere as they played a game of seven minutes in heaven, reduced down to three because they couldn’t be bothered waiting that long for the next turn.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie spinning the bottle and landing on Steve and doing a little pump of his eyebrows because it was Steve, and Eddie was always like that with Steve, they were best friends.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve standing up with a massive grin and grabbing Eddie by the hand and practically dragging him into that little basement bathroom because he thought this is it. Its finally happening. Months of chasing back and forth and this is where Eddie was going to make his move. Steve was sure of it.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie taking a laid back seat on the porcelain sink as Steve eagerly slammed the door shut behind them. He lent back against the mirror and started thinking of a fun story or secret to tell Steve because that’s what he did with Dustin, and Max, and El, and Argyle, and even Robin who made it clear they weren’t kissing, he didn’t want to kiss her anyway.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve walking over to Eddie in his tight little basketball shorts with a grin and strawberry glossed lips and placing his hands on the sink on either side of Eddie, leaning in close so Eddie could make his move.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie trying to avert his eyes because Steve was so close and ohmygod was it hot in here?

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve getting a little confused because Eddie was trying to make normal conversation and wasn’t looking him in the eye.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie not understanding anything he was feeling right now because Steve was not supposed to be making him feel like this.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve looking at Eddie’s watch and realising they only had one minute left and Eddie still hadn’t kissed him and he was awkward and nervous and looked kind of uncomfortable and maybe Robin and Steve had it all wrong. So he took a little step back and straight up just asked Eddie if he was gay.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie turning red and getting all flustered and trying to tell Steve “No. No, no. I’m not gay, definitely not gay. I’m not, I’m sure… I’m, I can’t be. I like girls… I only like girls. I don’t think… guys are just… they don’t… I’m not…” and trying to convince Steve -himself- that he wasn’t gay.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve squinting his eyes at Eddie because Eddie was just so… dramatic about it, and he wasn’t getting offended he was just trying to tell Steve he wasn’t, and he noticed there were only ten seconds left before one of the kids would swing open that bathroom door now.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie feeling a lump in his throat and like he wanted to cry as he tried to talk but just couldn’t get convincing words out and Steve was looking at him weirdly and it just made everything worse.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve taking a few fuck it steps forward and grabbing Eddie and kissing him, hard, slipping in a little tongue.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie not kissing Steve back because whatthefuckSteve?! but the moment he felt Steve’s tongue poke into his mouth, his own tongue was licking against it like a reflex and he started to kiss Steve back.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve pulling back the moment he felt Eddie start kissing him, a smug smile on his lips as he stepped backwards, one, two, three times.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Max swinging the door open, right on cue and letting Steve walk past her, all smug and proud and grinning, and she looked at Eddie who had pink cheeks and wide eyes and strawberry lip gloss smeared against his lips and he was all flustered and she rolled her eyes, murmuring a little “ew”.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie sitting across from Steve in the circle for the next five turns of the game, legs crossed and pink cheeked and his head hung low when he wasn’t staring.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve still smugly smiling because he made Eddie a flustered, quiet mess, and he was very obviously whispering to Robin all about it because they kept looking over at Eddie and smirking.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie not being able to sleep that night because Mike Wheeler’s basement smells like teenage boy, and had constant snoring echoing through the walls, and Steve’s glossed up lips were on his mind.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Robin and Steve laying beside eachother, giggling and whispering all night about their stupid crushes because that’s all they talked about these days.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie getting frustrated with himself and getting up to go have some milk or something, maybe to step outside for a smoke to just clear his head because he wasn’t gay.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve noticing and following him up in his little shorts, and popping on some more strawberry gloss, just in case, and walking up the stairs to find Eddie drinking water and looking out the window because he didn’t want to touch the Wheelers fancy fridge and fuck it up.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie still not understanding anything he was feeling, and why he was thinking about Steve’s lips so much, and the taste of his lipgloss, and the feel of him so close.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve walking up to Eddie and leaning back on the island behind him, and asking if Eddie was okay.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice that also happens to give him goosebumps in more ways than one, but promising Steve he was fine.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve apologising for overstepping because Eddie didn’t seem fine in the slightest, and maybe he and Robin were wrong. So, so wrong and maybe Eddie was gonna hate him now.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie telling Steve, out of the blue, that he sure as shit wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. It was impossible, he liked girls, he was sure of it, they were pretty.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve wanting to cry, but forcing himself not to.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie looking up at Steve with glossy eyes in the dark of the kitchen, and the faintest whisper leaving his lips as he said, “I wish you were a girl”.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve’s heart skipping a beat at that, and the silence lingering in the air as they just looked at one another.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie letting a singular tear fall because he was just so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know what else to do.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve walking up to Eddie, grabbing his shoulders softly and turning him back around to face the window, whilst Steve jumped up to sit on the counter, pulling Eddie between his legs and holding his hands, telling Eddie that he would probably make a very pretty girl if Eddie needed.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie smiling as Steve applied some more of his lipgloss and smacking his lips, and pretending to flick a long strand of hair back from his shoulder, and tweak his voice to sound more feminine as he asked Eddie if he looked pretty. And Eddie said yes, a little too quickly.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and asking if he wanted a kiss.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie tentatively holding Steve’s waist as he lent in to kiss him, slowly moving closer, calculated, swallowing, a nervous wreck.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve closing the gap that little bit faster and smiling against Eddie’s soft lips, gloss smeared between the two.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie melting into the kiss because apparently he did like kissing boys now, or maybe it was just Steve. But he liked it, and he gripped Steve’s hips and pulled him in closer until their chests were flush and Steve’s hands were in Eddie’s hair and their mouths were wet and tasted like strawberry lipgloss.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve pulling back for a breath of air and to check if Eddie was okay because he cared and he felt another tear slip into their mouths.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie chasing Steve’s lips the second they parted, leaning over with his fingers digging into Steve’s sides hard and not letting the kiss stop because he never wanted to stop kissing Steve.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve wiggling even closer, and Eddie’s hands dropping to his ass to hold him there, just for a moment and in that moment Steve let out a little whimper of satisfaction.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie pulling his hands back to Steve’s hips because this was all so new and he didn’t want to take it too far yet, whatever it was, but he’d keep that little sound in mind and would remember to put his hands there later.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie gripping Steve’s waist a little tighter because Steve tugged on his curls to deepen the kiss and it made him feel crazy, and he pressed himself harder into Steve because it all just felt so right for once, unlike all the times he’d kiss girls and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist and locking his ankles together to keep him in place.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie pressing chase little pecks to Steve’s lips and whispering thankyou between each one, more tears slipping from his wet eyes.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve wiping those tears away and pulling Eddie back in for another long and needy kiss because he was just as intoxicated by it as Eddie.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Max waking up with the need to pee, but Mike was taking forever in the basement bathroom so she wandered upstairs and heard some weird, wet slapping noise and silent little whimpers and she thought it might be a Demogorgon or something so she peaked around the corner to get an eye full of Eddie sucking Steve’s face off, and she stopped, and scoffed and rolled her eyes and muttered a little “ew”.

Whatever you do, don’t think about both of them turning around red faces and terrified to look at Max, scared she was gonna cry bloody mary.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Max shaking her head and turning for the bathroom and throwing her hands up with a groan and the word “Finally” being shouted.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie turning back to Steve and asking what this meant now, because he was scared and confused and didn’t understand anything.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Steve sweeping hair back from Eddie’s face and soothing his anxiety’s away, and promising Eddie this could be whatever he needed it to, and that he wasn’t alone, he never would be again.

Whatever you do, don’t think about Eddie kissing Steve again because it’s all he could think to do now, and he cried into the kiss because things finally felt like they were clicking into place, and this giant weight was being lifted off his shoulders.

Whatever you do, don’t think about the pair heading back down stairs and curling up under Eddie’s sleeping bag, nimble fingers tracing over Steve’s chest as Eddie kissed his collarbone and neck in the dark.

Whatever you do, don’t think about the party waking up in the morning to find Eddie and Steve tangled up together, Steves strawberry gloss sticky and stuck to Eddie’s cheek and somehow marking his own neck, and then not thinking anything of it because everyone thought they had been dating for months and were glad they finally felt comfortable enough to show it.

Whatever you do, please think about Eddie adding a little rainbow rectangle patch to his battle vest a week later.

[lenodrysalad]

the oilers may be fucking clowns but they are my fucking clowns

[hauntingblue]

WATER SEVEN BABYYYYY

Look at robin reacting when luffy says he wont give her up.... 🥺🥺

This is a joke right now but its actually a one piece tenet aldjsisjka

Usopp aksbaksjakqk the foreshadow is foreshadowing... Also Robin being happy with the crew after the Aokiji incident... Fuck!!!!

Sanji thinking robin just vanished or flew away and suddenly usopp is soaring thru the skies... imagine

AAAAARGGGGHHHH YOU CAN SEE THE GEARS TURNING

Zoro talking to merry..... only while he is alone of course

Why are nami and sanji matching ajdhakjsk look at the citrus sisters

Carpenter: maybe it was the government

Gov agent: I don't think so, also don't say that they are everywhere

LUFFY SUPPORTS WOMEN'S WRONGS!!!

Don't scream att chopper like that!!! Look at him... So small....

Imu tease???? (No) (Also I've changed websites again bc the translation is kinda off , I can't find a good quality b&w spanish translation and the colors scare me (i want the real manga experience))

GET HIM ICEBURG!!!!

I truly forgor if this is just a lie about her wanting to find the rio poneglyphs or genuine because she wants to die and will do it for them... because in skypiea she says she is not interested in the weapons so maybe if the gov pardons her but considering what she wants is illegal then idk abdjabjs this is such a dumb thing to forget... like thats important girl where did it go (reading this after remembering and it's kinda funny... i will make any sacrifice to kill myself (and keep you safe)... she goes HARD)

Little paulie and mozu and kiwi.... omg hello (the SBS says the twins wanted to be shipwrights too omg)

Franky's backstory is small but it does so much for me like it is so central to the themes... boats and people...

DID SOMEBODY ORDER MORE TRAGIC BROTHERS?

The fact that franky needs to learn this lesson to pass it on to robin.... do you understand how big this is.... also Tom does exactly as he says and takes responsibility for franky and what he has done... because he has done nothing wrong AND THAT'S HIS SON and he just punched spandam bc he wanta him to feel the pain franky feels... Tom is such a man..... proud of having built eater 7 up with the sea train.... goes out with a boom.... should we all kill ourselves....

I am crying again................... franky my god.... and the fucking frog!!! And of course franky can't stop Tom's hope for his island... of course he can't.... he hasnt learnt the lesson yet but this guy isn't over yet!! He has a life of being a pervert cyborg ahead!!! Iceburg following Tom's footsteps but franky not being able to do that bc of his guilt....

This is one of the coolest things chopper has done btw...

NAMII 😭😭😭

Robin damning the world for her crew when all she has ever done is damn her companions for her own sake.... how big is this...

I can't take this...... it's always nami in these positions... it happens AGAIN in Zou with Sanji... there is no way

The love letter gag is too good like damn that's so funny

AND IT'S NAMI GOING THROUGH IT AGAIN!!!! SHE LOVES ROBIN SO MUCH!!!!

[sev-on-kamino]

Sev!!! If you're not overwhelmed with these yet, could I pretty please ask for

"the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one." With Blizzard

Or!

"Accidental first kiss" with Flicker

Whichever one inspires you more! 💙

DEEJA!!! Omg I am just Alan DJ’s Jamal over here!!! Thank you for sending this prompt in 💙💙 Okies, I will absolutely go back to give you a first kiss with Blizzard too because I love him and have no self control, but the idea I had for Flicker got well away from me, so I present to you:

❤️Bet on Red🤍

Pairing: Corrie OC Sergeant Flicker x fem!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1271

Warnings: mild violence, gambling, fight club, and rule breaking

Written while listening to: Hand Clap by Fitz & The Tantrums, Gladiator by Zayde Wølf

Dividers by the GOAT @dystopicjumpsuit

“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Flicker said, scooping you up and depositing you onto his speeder bike.

“Late for what?” You asked for the 10th time that evening, fighting down the shiver that raced up your spine when his hands had found your hips.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” he replied, sliding in place in front of you. “Hold tight, cyar’ika!”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, clutching at his sides as he sped off into the flow of traffic. Without the armor to separate the pair of you, you could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you reminded yourself for the 10th time that it wasn’t a date. Just two friends hanging out.

Regardless, you rested your face against his back, smiling as you caught the scent of his cologne.

As the crisp, steady lights of the upper levels gave way to the erratic neon of the lower levels, you propped your chin on Flicker’s shoulder.

“Oooh, the seedy underbelly of triple zero,” you said, giving his sides a playful squeeze as he parked the speeder. “Next, you’ll tell me we’re going to an illegal casino.”

“Something like that,” he replied nonchalantly, as he helped you off of the bike.

“Wait? Really?”

“You’ll see.”

He took you by the hand and led you into a packed club. A few of the patrons eyed the two of you with disdain, while others greeted Flicker by name, as you moved through the crowd smoothly.

Sometimes you forgot that Flicker wasn’t just your good looking friend, he was also a sergeant in the Coruscant Guard and well-respected. You tried to look around at the decor, the crowd, the DJ, and not just focus on Flicker’s fingers laced securely with yours.

Before you knew it, you’d made it through the dance floor and into a back hallway with several doors lining the way. At the end of the hallway, Flicker tapped twice on a durasteel door.

A slot opened in the door, and the eyes of a Pantoran appeared.

“Password?” said a silky smooth voice.

“Cloud City Chaser,” Flicker replied.

The slot closed, and the door slid open revealing stairs descending into the depths of the building. Tugging you along, Flicker led you down the stairs. The thumping bass of the club faded and gave way to cheering and shouting. Your brow furrowed as the pair of you arrived in a makeshift arena. You couldn’t see what was happening, but the sound of skin on skin on bone was unmistakable.

It smelled of blood and stale alcohol, causing your nose to wrinkle.

“You get used to the smell,” Flicker said loudly over the relentless din.

“I hope not!” You replied, clearing your throat.

The sergeant laughed, and you couldn’t resist a smile. You loved that sound.

Before you could once again ask about why you were there, Flicker led you to a little booth, shielded by transparisteel and flanked by two armed guards. Inside the booth stood a Besalisk who was accepting credits with all four arms, as people crowded around the booth.

“Vinor!” Flicker said cheerfully, as he released your hand to lean on the counter surrounding the booth.

“Sergeant!” Vinor replied, his deep voice booming through the speaker before him. “I see you brought your girl this time. Guess you can’t lose tonight.”

“No, I can’t, so double or nothing.”

“Double, huh? And what about you, little lady? Betting on your sergeant?”

You’d watched this exchange with a mixture of confusion and excitement. Flicker had talked about you to this guy? He called you his girl?

“Betting on my sergeant for what exactly?” you asked.

Vinor chuckled and gave Flicker a knowing look. “You’re in for it tonight, and I don’t mean in the ring.”

Your brow furrowed, as you folded your arms and gave your friend an expectant look.

Flicker gave you a sheepish grin, “So, remember how I said we pick up odd jobs for creds sometimes?”

“Yeah…”

Flicker led you closer to the edge of the arena, and gestured to the pit surrounded by the bloodthirsty crowd. In the center a male Togruta and a female Twi’lek battled fiercely.

“Noooo,” you said, shaking your head. “And Fox just lets you do this?”

“He pretends not to know, which is practically encouragement,” Flicker replied. “Come on, you didn’t think random security jobs were enough to pay for my speeder, right?”

“Guess not,” you conceded. “So a lot of you do this?”

“Just a few. Thorn, Dax, Mech, Clipper, and me.”

“Wow,” you tried to wrap your head around it. “And you’re good?”

He smirked, tilting his head at you. “What do you think?”

A chime sounded, and Flicker whipped off his shirt, giving you an eyeful of gorgeous brown skin, laced with faded scars here and there amongst his tattoos.

“Last call for bets. Bet on me, yeah? Then come back and watch me win.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You zipped back to the booth and placed your bet with Vinor before squeezing through the crush of riled up spectators back to the side of the ring.

Flicker was in the middle of the ring, his hair held back with a red strip of cloth, and wearing the lower half of his blacks. Across from him stood a male Zabrak with brilliant orange skin, and an impressive ring of horns. Your stomach flipped as you watched the two of them circle one another.

Flicker made the first move, his right arm striking like lightning. It was as if a dam had broken. The two traded blows back and forth. Your head swept back and as you watched them work their way around the ring. Cringing when Flicker would take a hit, sighing with relief when he’d dodge one.

Arms and legs flew, teeth were bared, lips were busted, but they pressed on. The crowd roared around you, a many headed monster with only one desire. To see their chosen champion emerge victorious.

You found yourself screaming right along with them, chanting Flicker’s name loudly with his other supporters. After what seemed like ages, but in reality was only a few short minutes, Flicker pinned the Zabrak to the ground, manipulating his opponent’s arms and one of his legs in a complicated hold that rendered him unable to continue. The referee declared Flicker the winner, holding the trooper’s hand high to the screams of those who bet on him, and the jeers of those who bet against him.

You were screaming yourself hoarse, and hugging the female Togruta next to you like you were old friends. You looked up to see Flicker waltzing over, head held high, a grin on his face.

You moved to hug each other, but your heads went in the same direction, causing your lips to meet his in a rough, accidental kiss. You froze, and so did he.

“Hell yeah!” came the excited voice of a stranger somewhere behind you, which made both of you separate with a laugh.

“Sorry,” you stammered, feeling your face warm up.

“Don’t you dare apologize, cyar’ika…unless you’re not planning to do it again,” Flicker said, cupping your face.

“Oh,” you replied quietly, as you gazed into his bright, amber eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down slowly to steal another kiss from you. Your eyes slipped closed, as his lips moved gently but deliberately against yours.

“Hey,” you broke the kiss and pulled back slightly to look at him. “Can our next date not be at a fight club?”

“Our next date can be wherever you want,” he replied, kissing your cheek.

---

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[verfound]

Six Sentence Sunday: 06.23.2024

I've been picking at a WIP from the Hoard for the past few days, and I'm thinking I might be able to wrap it up today & post in the next day or so? So stepping away from selkies and soulmates for a tick to look at smooshies... 👀

Because she had had a plan, damn it.  She was going to walk home to the Liberty from school with Luka, even though band practice wasn’t supposed to start for another hour at least.  It wasn’t unusual.  Just like their hanging out while they waited for the others to show wasn’t unusual.  And while they were hanging out, she was finally going to tell him she liked him.  And ask if he wanted to go out some time.  And maybe ask if she could maybe kiss him, because ok fine that was something she’d really been wanting to do lately, too.

She wasn’t supposed to turn to him, say she had something important to tell him, start panicking the second he’d turned those super intense eyes on her, and blurt out: “…I want to smoosh faces!”

[bonnieisaway]

i think i'm far too generous with how i describe thirteen as only 'warming up' to seven given what this scene did to me as a person

im sorry she literally went SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M STAYING

does that look like the face of a woman who said that platonically. does that look like the face of a woman who meant "i'm going to risk my fucking life throwing down with two shadow killers for you and my only way i can muster telling you i would not leave you here alone for the world is repeating the thing you said in a VERY romantic way previously and this will be the ONLY time i choose to touch you in a non-violent way and become INCREDIBLY flustered I just said that out loud BUT IN A PLATONIC WAY" to you. sure. sure that's SUCH a platonic way to communicate the message. SURE. SURE

playing it off ain't working I Know What You Are Thirteen

[bumblingbabooshka]

Don’t ask Tuvok for Relationship Advice.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @hippolotamus @rewritetheending @betty-boom @panbuckley @satashiiwrites

Thank you lovelies! Muah! 💖

First son au is a bad cold that won't end, but there is finally some action happening (145K later), so hooray!

Everything within him is shaking and sparkling and bright, sensitive nerve endings lit on fire, blood raging through his veins like molten honey, the smallest, basest cells and atoms that make up his entire being exploding like a supernova.

It’s almost like Buck has been dead all this time, weak and weary and transparent, a ghost shuffling from one place to the other, yearning and empty and just a mere shadow of what he could be, and then he touches Eddie and comes alive.

Eddie is a god breathing life into Buck’s lungs, sending a spark through his soul, giving him the gift of something to hold onto and reach for, a reason to keep moving.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, and yes, there it is, his name pulled out of Eddie’s chest, vibrating in his throat, rolling across his tongue, and expelling into the air, reverence clinging to every syllable, each letter soaked in something too large and overwhelming to name.

Buck places his thumb in the center of Eddie’s bottom lip and applies pressure, dragging it down, watching as the plump flesh molds and clings to him, falling open to reveal what lies behind it: the perfect line of Eddie’s teeth and his tongue resting in that dark, hypnotic cavern.

Eddie’s mouth is Buck’s church, a place for him to rest and find faith, the most delicate form of beauty that makes his body sing with devotion, Buck’s own personal heaven offering itself up for him to take take take.

No pressure tagging: @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @transbuck @transboybuckley @rottenmarigolds @bigfootsmom @useramor @oliverstaark @911onabc @jamietarts @roy-kents @sibylsleaves @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @prince-buck-diaz @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @buddierights @wikiangela @heartbeatdiaz @monsterrae1 @messyhairdiaz @cowboy-buddie @rogerzsteven @housewifebuck @anxieteandbiscuits and anyone else who wants to share!