#also knowing me it might be a an actual fic and not a drabble

[bratkook]

I miss 2.5 soooo muucchhh 😭😭is there a chance we’ll get another part of it?🥺

yes (: at least a drabble!

[magnusbae]

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

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Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

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"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him. 

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—”  His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his— 

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…” 

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along. 

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so… 

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.  

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have. 

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was? 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan. 

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man. 

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain. 

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over. 

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember. 

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess. 

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze. 

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected. 

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised. 

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like. 

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former. 

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again. 

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down. 

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time. 

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried. 

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor. 

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond.  He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly. 

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years. 

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-” 

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips… 

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should…. 

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness. 

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet… 

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and… 

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night…. 

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows. 

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes  just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan. 

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him. 

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good…. 

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving. 

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too. 

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

[ms-spkhd]

thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

[msnihilist]

Screenshots somebody’s DNI and has one herself saying no antis or busybodies. Cool. It’s the internet. Anything goes. That means I can rb your fanfics and save them for editing the way you save art that isn’t incestuous.

I mean, if you want to download my fics and comb through all of that incest and underage smut, that's your prerogative, man. Hope you get a boner out of it, then maybe you'll calm down 💕

[amazingdeadfish]

I already wrote a comment asking about 'mama LBD', but I have another question, if LBD had to teach them everything again, does that mean they had THE TALK? because I think it would be really funny to know how they came to that conversation.

Y'know what? I've thought about this before. And y'know what the answer that I came to?

Yes. Yes she did. She did give them the talk.

And y'know what? Y'know what buddy?

Here. Take this. Because I don't know if I'll ever release other stories like this one. It's set before LBD was imprisoned:

~~~

This is the only warning: This includes an explanation of how reproduction works.

"How are there so many of them?" They asked her one day. It was rather strange to say the least, standing here in this village, filled with humans of all shapes and sizes. They looked like them, that's for sure, and they could understand them, yet they still felt like they stuck out like a sore thumb (even though they went unnoticed, along with their Lady). In this village, they felt rather out of place amongst the majority. This was not a pace they belonged to, nor anywhere else. They only felt like they belonged to the Lady Bone Demon.

"Elaborate," she simply questioned.

"Humans," they said, "why are there so many of them?"

She turned to them slowly, with a rather peculiar expression on her face. A sense of dread seemed to wash over her, and her face scrunched up ever so slightly. Then she turned back to looking at the people around the two.

"Reproduction," she hesitantly confessed. "I... Suppose you had to ask eventually."

"Is that a concept or a thing, my lady?" They inquired, tilting their head a little.

"It is a process of sorts," she continued, quite careful with her elaboration. "There's two types. Asexual and Sexual. Asexual is where there is one individual, who makes a clone of themselves to make another individual. Sexual, the method that humans use, is where a female and a male-" she hesitated, "come together to create a child."

"A child is one of those little things, right?" They said, pointing at some children nearby.

"Yes. But do not point, it is rude," Lady Bone scolded gently. Her hand quickly pressed their pointed hand down and they lowered it immediately.

"Apologies," they mumbled. After a moment of silence, they asked, "so like, how does it work though? Do humans sort of just, magically create one?" After making some strange gestures in the air, ones that barely supported their point, Lady Bone let out an exasperated sigh.

"Humans have reproductive organs," she said, "specifically to reproduce. These organs have to, come together in order to make an offspring. A female has a vagina, and a male has a penis. However every so often there will be individuals who might carry both. Those people are intersex. Demons also typically bear either one or two of those sexual organs, depending on what type of demon they are."

And after much, much hesitation, Lady Bone Demon glanced at them, seemingly regretting what she was going to say next.

"And you also have a reproductive organ. The male kind."

Immediately, they widened their eyes, and glanced all over their body. Patting it down under their armour as they tried to find what she was talking about.

"What is it?" They asked. Because they really did not know what it was. Did humans reproduce with their arms or something? Was that just another word for arms...? They did not know. They really did not know.

When they finally looked back up to her, Lady Bone Demon, reluctantly, still wearing the sense of dread on her face, gestured to their crotch.

Without even a single bit of hesitation, they pulled on the hem of their pants a little outwards, just by enough so they could peak to look.

"Is that what that thing is for-?" They blurted out. Only to immediately be interrupted by their Lady who exclaimed.

"Oh you will not do that in public! Take your hand away," she scolded. Her hand made the shooing gesture, and they quickly withdrew their hand and let their pants go back to covering their legs and crotch.

"Apologises," they mumbled again, feeling rather shameful now. She simply shook her head, letting out a sigh. But after another moment of silence, they knew they had to ask something else.

"So... Did you asexually reproduce me then?" They asked, "because... You created me by yourself, right?"

"No," she curtly replied. "I did not asexually create you because you are not a clone of me."

"Oh."

"And I did not reproduce you either, it is more -" she hesitated, her face scrunching up a little once more. "it is more as if I produced you, rather than reproduce. Because you are artificially created."

"Ah... I see."

So... Apparently there is a difference. Good to know.

"Enough questions," she huffed out, "we ought to cleanse this village. If you do it fast enough then perhaps we will even arrive at the next one near the neighbouring mountain."

"At your service, my Lady!" They exclaimed happily. Pulling out their sword and bowing at her, "I will make quick work of it!"

~~~

Annnnnnnd that's how the Mayor learned what sex is. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[blackjackkent]

This doesn't mean I like you, ChatGPT, but this was cute. 😤

[hyhkai]

camboy! | c.yj.

[ 🎥 ] — after yeonjun's rise in the porn industry, an interview was something he agreed to for fun. however, after he saw you, the interviewer, he wished it was a fake interview where he gets to fuck you.

cw : pornstar!yeonjun. unedited word vomit fictional magazine company that apparently also exists in real life.

a/n ; i apologize for my sins i swear I'll change 🙏🏼 and this is a drabble, not a fic! i might turn it into one over time ♡

after you reached out to him a few weeks ago with greetings and compliments, and asking can I interview you some time? I'd like to know what it's like to be a person who earns through the adult industry, and with your fame, I know that you're just the right person., his first, honest reaction was to laugh. i mean, seriously?

he was laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being interviewed. i mean, who was willing enough to take out time of their busy, hectic schedule to interview a man who earns bread by having a dildo inside of him? he had to know. he wanted to know what this person was like.

he did think that this could be completely false and you could be a potential threat, trying to lure him into your little cage with cheese like he's a fucking rat, capture him and do bad things to him like he'd heard with various nefarious acts of people against people with 'easy' fame.

"can I get proof that you're actually an interviewer?"

to which he immediately got a response with a photo of a xerox copy of your identification document, namely at a popular company called mode de vie. he could see the black and white ink that framed the photo stuck on the top right corner, and he knew that he had to see that fucking face in real life. if that's how you look in a awfully captured picture, so captivating, bold, and confidence outlining your eyes in the form of sharp eyeliner, he had to see that face in front of him, asking him questions about his body count or something else he doesn't give two shits about.

he'd said sure to your offer almost immediately now that he saw that it was a real interviewer after him. and now that it was time, he drove to the place where you both agreed to be at — a café which was relatively close to his house and your office.

"I'm glad you came!" you said as you shook his hand that would eventually get sweaty from just sitting opposite to you. what the fuck? he seriously considered telling you to quit this stupid, serious job and just join him in his public sex life. you were stunning.

now that he saw your hair open, framing your face, and that fucking sharp-ass eyeliner, he was mad that he didn't dress up nicely and instead came in a hoodie. who wants to miss a chance of getting a baddie?

he thanked the lords he'd long forgotten when you told him this is just an audio based interview which will later be turned into a text format.

while you continued asking him questions about everything, from "fuck-a-fan" to "how did your mother find out?", he'd needed to ask you to repeat your questions several times. his eyes kept drifting down, down to your chest.

'why the fuck are you wearing a top so low-cut? is it to provoke me or something?' he'd think. he legitimately wants to put his hand on the table, pushing himself towards you and grabbing one of your tits. it's pissing him off he can't.

okay, so maybe he was a pervert like one of his friends liked to say. but it wasn't his fault when you were asking him questions about his sex life while looking at him with those eyes that were possibly tearing his clothes off.

in his world, that is.

'do you want to fuck me too, or am I trippin'?'

he knew he had to keep his filthy hands, his filthy thoughts, to himself. c'mon, it's a fucking interview, yeonjun. grow up. you've had plenty of girls and guys to fuck in your life. from small and petite, to taller than you. from fucking someone to getting fucked. you've done it all. why are you so captivated by this woman?

maybe it was the way you had your makeup done that had him wishing he could see it smeared all over with a new makeup product; his cum, or maybe it was your tits that were practically begging to be the thing he shoves his face in tonight. but no, it was the way you carried yourself.

there was this... this aura, this radiation of confidence that was magnetic enough for him to be pulled to you.

under the table, he was practically going to rub one out. he kept adjusting his pants, kept palming his dick that was straining against his pants and standing up against his thoughts of not fucking you ever.

ugh, just how fucking good you'd look on his bed, and he swears he could go above his rounds per fucking streak of 4 with you; from classic missionary to the amazon position, from sixty-nine to his foot on your face while he fucked your ass from the back. fuck, he'd even let you peg him, something he's always refused to do.

just how good you'd look while sliding your strap-on inside of him, his eyes going wide, as well as your smile at the sight of his pretty face. he thinks you'd like some crazy songs playing in the background, similar to the vibe of playboi carti.

fuck, he'd hold onto your tits for support, comfort, for just the fucks of it no matter who is topping.

"um, excuse me?" you asked when he spaced out in the middle.

"yeah?" he said, looking up from the table where both of your milkshakes resided.

"thank you for the interview. i appreciate it a lot!" you said, smiling at him, completely unaware of the junk he had in his brain about you. you put out your hand for a friendly yet professional handshake.

"oh, yeah, of course." he muttered out, responding to your hand with his that was definitely sweaty.

as you closed your notepad and stopped the recording, he looked up at your face finally.

"can I ask you a question too?"

"oh, yes, of course." you said, looking up at him with a face of genuine curiosity. maybe it would be something like —

"when will this be posted?"

"where can I read it?"

"will there be a hardcopy?"

"would you ever fuck me if you could?"

and suddenly, this was the first time you regretted not recording the aftermath of an interview.

[victorluvsalice]

Fic Resolutions for 2023!

Yeah, I know I don’t usually post on Sundays anymore, but it’s just become the New Year, and I’d like to set my fic resolutions down early. So let’s see --

1. Finish the first draft of “Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland” at least -- Yes, I am still working on that story, it’s just slow going because a) chapters long and b) lot of looking things up on YouTube for reference to get dialogue right and stuff like that. I am a decent amount of the way through, at least -- Alice is currently finishing up Venus’s quests, and will be resolving the plaguebearers in the next couple of days. Then she’s gonna hit Grout’s, and this particular chunk of the story will end with LaCroix ordering her to Hollywood and Alice and Victor preparing to see what that chunk of the map is like. I certainly don’t want to say it’ll be posted in 2023, but I should be able to finish the first draft and hopefully get at least a teaser chapter up by the end of the year!

2. Edit and post the full version of “As Long As You Love Me” and at least finish the first draft of its sequel “The Joker And The Queen” -- the other major project I was working on before taking a break in December to write gift fics (and get the ideas for my other coaster OCs straight in my head), this one should be easier to complete. The first draft of “As Long As You Love Me” (well, the first draft of all the bits I wrote to link together my previous snippets) is completed, and I’ve gotten a couple of chapters into the sequel. . .dunno if I'm gonna try to finish the first draft of said sequel first, or if I’m gonna go back and edit the original for posting first, but both will be done at some point!

3. Post those darn Secundus drabbles already -- I never did it last year, so I’m gonna try to get it done this year. If I can finally decide whether I’m doing just one drabble a chapter or many. . .ugh, if anyone wants to chime in on what they would prefer on that front, it would be helpful! But yeah, if I can at least get a START on doing that (maybe this summer, as a bunch of them were written for a summer challenge on a LiveJournal community I used to be a part of), that would be great.

*nods* I think this all sounds doable without being too much. Wish me luck! Happy New Year!

[moonstruckme]

apple pie - send a character + a prompt off this list and I��ll write a drabble

congrats mae!! love the new theme and all your fics xx could i get sirius black and 10?

Thank you angel <3

¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology

cw: alcohol, reader is implicitly introverted and/or shy

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

Sirius finds you on the roof of his building. It’s a nice roof, not because of the roof itself—that’s pretty disgusting, actually, scattered with beer cans and smelling of piss from parties gone by—but because of the view. The trees and bricks of his neighborhood, giving way after a few blocks to city lights and black sky. 

You’re silhouetted against it all, sitting on the edge of the roof with your feet dangling over the pavement. You have a six pack of beer sitting beside you with one missing. 

“Are you planning to drink all of those by yourself?” Sirius asks as he sits down on your other side, the beers between you. 

You startle a little, and his muscles tense, ready to snatch you away from the edge. Sirius sits there like that all the time, but it makes him twitchy when you do it. When you realize it’s only him, your sigh is half relieved and half exasperated. Maybe there’s a little bit of fondness in there, too. 

“No,” you reply, “but I wanted to have the option.” 

“Sound.” Sirius grabs one for himself, popping the tab with a hiss. 

You keep looking out into the distance while he takes a couple of slow sips. He never knows what exactly you’re doing when you get like this. Sometimes you’ll be quiet for so long he thinks you must be entirely in your own head, but then you’ll say something like “I think that couple on that stoop has just been on their first date. See how nervous they are?” and he’ll realize you’ve been paying attention all along. 

Now, he knows you’re only waiting for him to own up. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, “for luring you here under false pretenses.” 

“You told me it was a small dinner.” 

“There is food down there, if you go looking…” 

“This is a party, Sirius.” 

“You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you it was a party.” 

You take a sip of your beer, looking like you might be trying to hide a smile. “No,” you agree. 

“Then I lied.” He tests his luck, tossing you a grin meant to coax out your own. “I’m not sorry.” 

“I knew it,” you mutter, but there’s no real malice in your voice. Sirius leans over, bumping his shoulder into yours. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

You give him a look. “You could see me any night.” 

“I wanted to see you tonight,” he amends. “I had to get you here somehow.” 

You sigh, leaning into him in turn. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from your party.” You cringe. “Or being rude to your friends.” 

“Don’t be silly, nobody minds. They all love you anyway, and now that I’ve been gone for more than five seconds James will have seized the opportunity to change the music. They’ll all be having a grand time.” 

You smile, turning your face down so your hair almost covers it. But Sirius won’t be robbed of the sight; he hooks your hair on a finger, slotting as much as he can behind your ear. 

Your eyes meet his. “I like your music,” you tell him. 

Sirius beams. “And that’s why I like you, gorgeous. Well,” he hedges, “part of why. There’s also your personality, I suppose.” 

“Stop.” You give him what he supposes is meant to be a stern look, but it’s only heart-wrenchingly cute. 

“And your lovely ass, can’t forget that.” 

You turn your face entirely away from him, but your shoulders shake silently. Now that Sirius has you laughing, he decides to push his luck one more time. 

“Do me a favor?” He asks. You look over, still fighting your smile. “Come back inside. You can sit with Remus—he adores you, and he’ll be happy to have someone he doesn’t need to make small talk with. In an hour I’ll kick everybody out, and it’ll be just us for the rest of the night. Okay?” 

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, mulling it over. “Yeah,” you say after a minute, “okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll head down.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sirius leans over, capturing your lips with his. He makes it good and persuasive, but in all honesty he’s probably as wobbly as you are when he pulls away. “And will you do one more thing for me, please?” 

“Um.” You look a bit dazed. “Sure.” 

“Get down off the edge. You’re freaking me out.”

[writingmeraki]

hurt hearts — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you learn mingyu has a big heart ( and chest—) and he's terribly hurt while you might just beat the shit out of him.

( or mingyu's heart was already yours before you even knew it )

pairing : secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, acquaintances stage. genre : fluff, angsty. warnings : mentions of injuries, treating wounds ( inaccurate forgive me🙏) mingyu ( he's a warning ).

a/n : the double update as promised hehe also the pic is not even related to the drabble but I just had to use it yk?? thank you to @etherealyoungk for feeding my delusions. also this got angsty quite quick 😭 ???( might do a summer fic with this mingyu hehehe ) pls I was also like naurr why is it so sad suddenly but eh it's fine. take this as some sort of teaser for the full secret agent mingyu fic I guess! and yes I will never get fed up of writing these two <3 let me know what you think of this mwah 💌

word count : 2.7k

“Are you fucking stupid?!?”

Silence enveloped the room as you asked in a voice laced with agitation.

It was all whispers of panic and chaos while you took in the scene in front of you, quiet and in your thoughts, but the more you thought of it, the more you got enraged.

“Do you even realise what could have happened?"

It seemed as though the wound on his chest was glaring at you as you spoke, unable to look away from it as it continued to bleed. You winced, frowning more as you shook your head.

Mingyu, on the other hand, like the true annoyance he was, blinked in surprise as he heard you cuss. It was rare you did, it was rare you talked actually, choosing to only answer in small replies.

Or maybe you just hated him because he swears he’s seen you not only talk but also laugh and giggle with Vernon and Chan, even Seungcheol!

He didn’t want to admit it before but now he can, he absolutely disliked the fact that you were more nonchalant to him than any other person. Was he the problem?

No, no negative thoughts right now. Perhaps you were just shy around him.

Right because a shy person would definitely be glaring at him with all the rage enough to just burn him with a gaze.

Who was he trying to convince? You hated him and for all he knew, he was just a nuisance in your life.

“Where’s Wonwoo?! Is Dr.Jeon not there?” You sat him down on the lounge chair in the agency building. It was supposed to mimic how an actual office building would be, hence they even did the extra and added the typical reception desk and waiting area at the ground floor.

Wonwoo? Since when were you on a first name basis with Wonwoo?

He frowned at that, he didn't want to admit it but it annoyed him just a little. Though. He did have other bigger problems right now.

Like the gash on his upper chest that was bleeding. But it seemed the adrenaline had dimmed down the pain. It felt more numb if anything.

“He-he left. I mean his shift is over there's no one—”

“How the fuck is there no other doctor on duty?! In a fucking place like this you'd expect at least one how—”

You pinched your nose and took a deep breath. You were on the verge of possibly killing someone.

Mingyu was bleeding and you needed to think.

“Seungkwan. Get me the first aid kit. Chan, go get some water. And you-”

You looked back at Mingyu in question,

“Can you walk?”

Instead of answering, he nodded curtly, not really wanting to provoke you than he already had. He knew when and where to speak up when he should. At least sometimes he did.

“Great, let's go to my room.”

[ A few moments later ]

Your office space was very…you. It was like a reflection of what he thinks you are.

Your artefacts, some polaroids with people in few and more so sceneries. It resembled a lot of you but also not enough to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to know more.

He sat down on the sofa, a light pink coloured one, one that stood out in the monochrome room. But it was nice. It was pretty.

He also thinks you look pretty, even though you were tense, eyebrows scrunched as you cut the bandage tape precisely.

You look pretty all the time though.

“I'll need you to remove your shirt.”

Mingyu would love to hear so much from you, and wanted to hear you say so many things for him. This was one of them for sure, but definitely not in the circumstances he wishes.

“I-what? ” He chokes up, immediately sitting up from his leaned back position, one you forced him into when he came there.

You put down the bandage after you finished, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, now crossing your arms.

“How else do you want me to treat your wound?”

“You're-you’ll be treating it?”

“Does it look like there's anyone else right now who can? If you're scared, just trust me, I uh- I have experience from treating my own and others as well.”

You said it firmly because you realised the unsurety in his voice might be right. He didn't know that you knew basic first aid and actually more, it was a requirement for most agents but perhaps it was different here.

Mingyu did trust you. That wasn't what he doubted. He doubted himself, whether he'd be able to handle you touching him in any way. He's terrified he might pass out.

“Okay, now I'll need you to actually remove your shirt, I'll help if you-”

“NO!-uh no I'll do it myself.”

He immediately raised his hands and began unbuttoning, as the shirt got more loose, you focused on how the wound was.

It was a slice, not a stab luckily, so it wouldn't have caused as much damage as a stab would. But it still was damage that hurt.

He hissed in pain as his shirt moved away from his hurt chest, the wound being open to the air.

Slowly, he removed his other arm and finally got his blood soaked shirt out. He questioned where to put it without saying anything as he looked around but you just grabbed it and tossed it in the dustbin.

It was one of his favourites.

Seeing the slight pout on his face, you rolled your eyes because of course, Mingyu would find that to be an issue and not the fact that he was bleeding out.

“I'll get you another one.”

That made him look up at you, to which his eyes widened,

“Uh no I-”

“Shut up.”

You finished preparing the cotton to clean up his wound first, you turned to face him and for a brief moment you paused.

You didn't expect what was in front of you. Mingyu being shirtless was expected of course, but his toned torso and wait…were those abs??

You cleared your throat when you realised you might have been staring a little too long.

It wasn't like you weren't used to seeing people with muscular bodies or so. It was natural in your field for people to be fit.

But Mingyu. Holy shit, he looked like someone personally took their time on him.

“Uhm, okay so I'll just clean up your wound first and then disinfect it, then just bandage it up alright?”

Your voice sounded a lot less angry than before. Actually it sounded more timid if anything. It made Mingyu both shocked and curious as to why suddenly you'd seem so…nervous?

You moved to sit beside him, trying your best to not let your eyes waver more than they already have.

Unfortunately for you, fortunate for Mingyu, your eyes did wander and in fact lingered a little too long on his exposed chest. Along with his torso.

And he noticed.

And he realised.

Gulping slightly, no ordinary person would know but Mingyu did and the glint in his eyes shifted to something more confident, you raised your hand and gently began to clean the open wound.

It seemed it was not as deep as you initially thought.

Holy shit, I'm touching his chest.

You're not a teenager for goodness sake pull yourself together?!???

But his chest is buff and so- fuck. Fucking hell.

Your internal thoughts were in conflict as you cleaned up his wound, not even realising you were going over a place that was already cleaned.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed yours and you were startled out of your conflict.

“You already cleaned it enough,” Mingyu had to bite his tongue to not slip out any sort of pet names but that didn't stop the small smirk on his face from seeing your somewhat composed demeanour be a little thrown off by his sudden nakedness.

His hand holding yours made it seem like you were burning. It burned when he touched you.

And how would one react to a burn?

They'd move far away from the cause of said burn.

You pulled your hand out and stood up quickly,

“Right, right, I was just uh- making sure. I wouldn't want any infections or anything like that.”

You turned back to your first aid kit, turning your back on him and slightly shook your head.

Pull yourself together. He's just…a guy.

But was he really just any guy?

He was Kim Mingyu. The guy who caused you more stress than anything. The same guy who also would bother you a lot during missions.

And yet he was also the same guy who saved you today. You were ambushed during the mission and outnumbered.

It was you against six. You could handle them practically speaking but you also would have your attention split more than it should be. Meaning you wouldn't be prepared for a seventh guy from out of nowhere.

But Mingyu happened to be able to come there. On time too. As though he was keeping up with you despite being in another room with another problem.

What you didn't know was how quickly he made it out of that room when he heard you were ambushed. How he felt his heart drop when he heard you yelp in pain when you got attacked out of nowhere. How he couldn't actually care about the rest of the mission after that and what he cared about most was getting you out of there. Safely.

He knew perhaps it was risky to have jumped in front of you when you were going to get stabbed but darn it be him than you anytime.

Luckily you were also quick enough to make sure he wasn't actually stabbed and pushed him aside as you gained the extra hand and were able to take down the ambusher.

You were not at all happy with what he did. In fact, going as far as to not talking to him till you reached the agency because you were boiling in rage.

“You know you shouldn't have jumped in between like that.”

You said as you soaked up the cotton in hydrogen peroxide.

“But you would have gotten terribly hurt.” Mingyu frowned at your words. The doubt from before raising as to why you'd been so upset with him when he actually saved you.

“Yes but that would be my fault. I would get hurt in my own fight. I'd bleed and patch it up myself. There would be no one else hurt but me.”

You turned to face him, holding the cotton in your hand as you walked up again towards him.

“Not you who got hurt because of me. I wouldn't feel the…the guilt. You got hurt. Because of me.”

His eyes softened upon hearing your words. It made sense now. You were feeling guilty and that's why you'd been so upset. He thinks he'd feel the same too if you were to get hurt somehow because of him.

“I'm…I'm sorry I didn't think about that but I couldn't just sit back and let you get hurt knowingly, I just, I couldn't do that. Not to you.”

You sat back down to your original position, now having completely different emotions than before. But you weren't sure which you preferred because the current ones were only making you feel more worse if anything.

Lightly pressing the soaked cotton on his open wound, he hissed in pain as the alcohol came in contact with his open skin.

“It's fine Mingyu, you don't need to explain, I get it. I'd also do it. Thank you for…saving me.”

You don't need to thank me.I'd only do it for you though. I'd risk anything for you.

But instead he could only gasp in pain as you continued to clean,

“Yeah, what a time to say thank you when you're causing me only more pain.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but felt a little bad for him due to knowing the pain of hydrogen peroxide to an exposed wound.

“Oh, shut up now you big baby, this will help you.”

“Baby? Are we moving on to pet names now?”

“What??? I didn't- I didn't mean it that-”

“Oh I know, I was just messing with you.”

“You-!”

After a bit more cleaning and more arguing, you got up and grabbed the bandage.

“Now how will I wrap this?”

You questioned as you held it. He also got up, feeling a bit better but you still warned him not to move to much as the wound was not yet wrapped.

Then you got the idea of how to wrap it.

“Listen, what I'll do is wrap this around your entire chest, like the entire upper part alright? I don't have anything else besides this right now but it'll help temporarily. Tomorrow you go and get it properly dressed from Wonwoo.”

He nodded obediently and it was slightly cute as to how he almost resembled a little puppy quietly following instructions. Though you could see him getting tired from the way his eyes seemed to drift.

“I'll do it as quick as I can.”

And quickly you did, already wrapping over the wound enough,to the point Mimgyu had to tell you he felt like he couldn't breath and that's when you stopped.

No sign of blood.

You noted as you taped over the left over end part on the right side of his chest.

For this part, you were very close to him, to ensure the best precision. He was just glad it wasn't the left side of his chest or else you'd definitely feel how fast his heartbeat was going from the moment you got closer.

Mingyu likes you. Like really really likes you. You who stayed behind and treated his wound. You who felt guilty for him getting hurt for something he chose to do.

He thinks in this situation no matter how hurt he got, he was now sure about you. More specifically liking you.

“There. All done.” You patted down his chest lightly as you moved a little behind but before you could properly go, his hand out of nowhere held your own and pulled you closer.

It was unexpected so you couldn't help but stumble a bit as your eyes widened.

You were very close. Too close in fact you were sure if you moved a bit more closer, you might just end up kissing him.

It didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

“Mingyu, what are you doing?”

“I just, I want to tell you thank you for helping me out right now, properly.”

He smiled softly at you, his canines slightly peaking from beneath his closed lip smile and you swore you felt your body flush.

He looked…as handsome as he always did. Brown eyes shimmering in all sorts of emotions, lips a shade of pretty pink.

But you couldn't. You couldn't dare. Not now.

Clearing your throat, you pulled back and stepped behind, your body suddenly feeling a weird coldness from the sudden distance.

On the other hand, Minghu seemed confused. Did he push too far? He didn't mean to, he didn't want to rush anything, he just wanted to properly say thank you like actually say it and not do anything-

“It's alright. I hope you get better soon. I'll call Seungkwan to get you a shirt. You can get changed here. I'll just leave now, it's late anyways and you should to.”

“Have a goodnight agent Kim.”

Agent…Kim? Not even Mingyu?

Before he could even question your change of behaviour, you'd already moved out of your room as if you life depended on it.

As if you'd rather be anywhere but there.

As if you suddenly remembered your dislike towards him.

“Wait! Y/—”

Sighing out, in likely relief as you got out of your office, you made your way down to the lobby.

You couldn't help but feel the guilt, if not even more at how you left Mingyu just because you were a coward. Just because you didn't want to admit how he made you feel.

You couldn't do that to him. Not at this moment.

And perhaps you couldn't do that to him ever, for Kim Mingyu deserves the best.

And that was surely not you.

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[sandwhitches]

hii! can i have a cherry popsicle abt suna confessing to the reader but he’s super nervous?? thanks so much! feel free to request smth from me if you’d like to do a little exchange:)

a/n: u must be a mind reader because i’ve LITERALLY been working on this exact prompt omg!!! it’s longer than a drabble (lowkey really long so i just formatted it like a fic☠️) because i already had most of it written when u requested so enjoy :3!! also u BET im gonna send u a request yay!!!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

desc: suna is an idiot and seeks the help of an unlikely (and annoying, in his humble opinion) ally to help him confess to you

content: fem. reader, language, suna’s little sister guest star!!!!! (i love that he canonically has a little sister; she’s like middle school age in this ughhhh suna as a big brother makes me want to combust), suna pining for you like a big stupid idiot

wc: 1.5k

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

Suna Rintaro knows two things for certain: firstly, he’s absolutely in love with you, and secondly, he hasn’t a clue what to do about it. It was easier for him to come to terms with the latter, seeing as he’d spent most of his teenage years rolling his eyes at mushy displays of affection and taking the piss out of his friends who seemed to have traded all necessary brain function in exchange for falling in love. 

To him, falling in love this early on in life was as worthless and cheap as the chocolate he watched be gifted every Valentines Day; eventually, they’ll eat what they like and throw what they don’t in the trash, he’s seen it done countless times before, and he’d be stupid to let something like that happen to him. 

Still, here he is, knee-deep and sinking even deeper as the moments go by, he thinks falling in love might be like being pushed into quicksand. As odd as it is for him to admit it to himself, he doesn’t mind it at all.

There’s a certain giddiness that can’t be awarded any time other than when you talk to him. He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about your conversations, wondering if he said something wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have prolonged the exchange, and smiling fondly when he remembers he managed to make you laugh three times (a new record for him).

“What’s with that face?” Atsumu had interrupted Suna during one of the breaks at volleyball practice, his idiotic grin on full display in Rintaro’s face. Had he really been smiling just from thinking about you?

Suna had mumbled something that sounded like an awkward mixture of shut up and fuck off, quick to storm away in hopes that Atsumu didn’t catch the violent reddening of his cheeks. This is not good, he thinks, love can’t really be this hard to ignore, can it?

He’s put up a hard battle against this exact scenario, and he’s afraid you might have unknowingly thrown a wrench right into his fine tuned machine of a brain. If this really was a battle, he’s fine raising a white flag in order to get to make you laugh more often, for the slight possibility of getting to know if your lips really feel as soft as they appear, and the hope that one day he might forget all about what it was like not to be entirely in love with you. 

This is the nail in the coffin, his final surrender. Being in love really must make people stupid, because he’s nervously tugging his collar as he knocks on his younger sister's door. She chirps a surprised “Come in!” and Rintaro struggles to actually reach for the door, consumed with the reality of the fact that this really is where he’s ended up in his life. Great.

His sister gives him an incredulous look when she realizes it had been him who knocked, eyeing him suspiciously, “What do you want?” She mumbles in confusion, setting her pencil down. Suna parts his lips, mouth running dry, then sighs loudly, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” She inquires, sudden agitation laced in her tone. Rintaro looks at the ground, too embarrassed to see the inevitable shift in her expression when he asks, “What’s the right way to ask out a girl?” 

A silence follows that isn’t long enough in Suna’s opinion, quickly cut off by a loud bark of laughter, “No way! You’re asking me for advice?” 

Here’s another thing Suna Rintaro knew for certain, there’s no word that describes the extent in which his younger sister is the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suna mutters self-consciously. This probably was a bad idea in theory, but as much as it pains him to admit it, this is his last resort. He knows next to nothing about how to be normal about talking to you, let alone confess; something is better than nothing in this situation, and he swears to himself that he will make sure he never has to ask his sister for advice like this again. 

Love, when it comes to you, has to be a one and done thing. He’s sincerely praying to whoever is watching over him that he never has to feel the terror of confessing to anyone else again. It just has to be you. 

That’s why he’s here, standing about as stiff as a marble statue as he pushes a shaky finger to your doorbell, drawing his hand back swiftly as if it burned him. In a spurt of unexplainable confidence, Suna had asked if you wanted to hang out on Saturday, conveniently leaving out the part where he desperately wished for it to be more than just a hang out.

Earlier that morning, he’d been so close to chickening out that his sister, of all people, angrily dragged him to the nearest grocery store with a scowl.

 “Don’t get her roses, it’s way too soon for that kind of flower!” She snapped, swatting Suna’s hand away from the bouquet.

“Daisies? Seriously? Are you a serious?”

It would be an utter lie if Suna did not admit that he had no idea what his sister was talking about. If love really is this complex, maybe he’s not the right person for it. Still, he finds himself lingering on the face you make when you laugh, the way you’re the first person that he never got sick of texting into the early hours of the morning, and how you’re the only person that could ever make him reconsider that puppy love and crushes might mean something more than he’d given them credit for.

After all, the way he felt for you is what people call love, isn’t it?

Suna grips the assorted bouquet of colorful flowers that his sister had deemed good enough, listening to the sound of your front door clicking open. He’s doomed, this is a bad idea, and yet it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

How’d you get to be so beautiful? Suna wonders that a lot, in fact, it makes him angry that you’d just waltzed into his life like you did. It’s absolutely unfair, he was a dead man before he could even put up a fight. Falling in love with you was unavoidable from the beginning, but he seems to be just okay with that. 

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, nonplussed by the bouquet in his hands, “Flowers for me?” You snicker, your laughter is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen right now, it makes everything ten times harder to do.

“Yeah, um-” Rintaro sputters, nervously darting his eyes around for the answer to your question. He knew the answer. You knew the answer.

Hastily, he holds it out for you to take, which you do without hesitation, “What’s the occasion?” 

Suna Rintaro knows two more things for certain: firstly, he’ll die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels, and secondly, you’re smart enough to have already surmised exactly what the occasion is. 

Everything his sister told him, advisories of “That’s too creepy!” and “Don’t be so blunt about it!” all fly to the back of his mind in exchange for the only things he can really manage to say. 

“Well,” Suna starts, cringing at the way his voice cracks, he knows this is about to be the world’s worst confession. 

“I, um, I got these for you because I think you’re really pretty,” you watch in bewilderment as his cheeks gradually saturate into a bright red, “but, that’s not just it!” Suna blurts, “You’re also really smart, and funny, and you’re probably the only person I could sit and talk to for hours without getting annoyed by-” Now, Suna is blatantly breaking the third piece of advice his sister had given him, don’t ramble.

“And, I really look forward to talking to you, even if it’s about boring stuff, I still want to hear you talk all day. Which, saying that out loud is really embarrassing for me, but, not because I’m embarrassed of you, I’m just embarrassed that I’m so-”

“Suna-” you interrupt, the cellophane wrap of the bouquet you held crackles as you lower it to see him better. You watch, partially in amusement, while the boy across from you struggles to comprehend everything he just said. 

Suna is done for when it comes to you, this was priorly understood, so why is it so hard to put it into words if it’s all he ever thinks about? “I like you a lot…is that okay?” He finally sighs, pale green eyes flickering up to search for a silent answer in the faltering of your expression. 

“That’s okay.” You nod, dumbfounded by the sudden declaration, each word was spoken with more confidence than anything you’ve ever heard him say before.

“Cool.” Suna nods dumbly.

“Cool.”

[yoonbroom]

SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so &lt;;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart. 

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

[astraystayyh]

han x reader. domestic morning where they also remember snippets of their (enemies) past. they’re very cute and i might write a full fic for their backstory.. stay tuned (also one suggestive joke)

if you wish to request a drabble as well, you can donate to our gaza fundraiser here! there are many writers participating as well hehe <3

10:02 a.m.

“wake up,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against the slate of han’s neck. his eyes remain closed, but a delicate smile unfurls across his lips. you pretend not to notice.

“come on,” you murmur, your lips brushing his exposed collarbone, your hand slipping around his waist. “i miss you, hannie.”

his arms suddenly envelop you, drawing you into an impossibly tight embrace. “sorry baby, hannie is asleep.”

“is that so?” you giggle, resting your cheek against his bare chest. your face warms as you sense his heart racing unusually fast for a tranquil saturday morning.

“what’s this?” you pout, your fingers grazing the skin that shields the world's most precious organ. “do i still fluster you this much?”

“i literally have the sun in my arms, leave me be,” he grumbles, pulling the covers over you both.

you chuckle, pinching his side gently. “but wasn’t i your volcano?” you ask, referencing the song han wrote about you, for you, to you.

“yaaah,” he drawls out, a gleam of excitement shining in his eyes. “do you remember how we were before i confessed?”

“we hated each other,” you both giggle at the memory, months that now feel like a lifetime ago washing over you. it’s a sweet remembrance, akin to the last ripples of a wave caressing the shore.

“you were the most gorgeous producer I’d ever seen,” he sighs exaggeratedly, “and the most infuriating too.”

“it’s not my fault my genius was too much for you,” you tease, and he leaps away, waving a hand in the air in true han fashion.

“it wasn’t too much, we just had different artistic visions,” his voice grows increasingly high-pitched, “AND you were too prideful to collaborate.”

you shrug nonchalantly, “because you seemed too full of yourself.”

“and yesterday you were too full of m—“ your hand swiftly covers his mouth as raucous giggles erupt from him.

“you’re an actual idiot. i can’t believe I’m dating you now,” you say as his lips meet your forehead tenderly, his hands weaving through your hair as if crafting silent confessions of love.

“how could you resist the world’s best love song, hm?”

memories of listening to han’s Volcano in the rain flood your being. you recall the shiver that overtook your bones, the realization that dawned suddenly upon you, just like a striking bolt— you had never known the line between love and hate was this thin until, you too, experienced it.

“you know, it’s crazy how romantic the lyrics are, yet you never say 'i love you' once in them.”

“but you knew.”

“but i know.”

the smiles that bloom across your faces are serene, peaceful, like the calm that follows a storm, painting the world in hues of stillness.

“hi, baby,” he whispers, and you giggle, cupping his cheek with your palm. “hi, hannie.”

“i’m so happy we moved past the screaming matches.”

“i’m so happy i get to love you.”

“well, I love you more.”

“well, actually, that can’t be true because—“ the rest of your protest is silenced by han’s lips finally pressing atop yours. your words melting like sugar at the tip of your tongue.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

WOLF BOY

when ao3 goes down, we write tumblr fic... now on ao3 HERE lol

i used the 15/11/24 @sterekdrabbles challenge for this. the prompt words were GREEN, REACH and SCATTER. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as it's around 1K words and therefore definitely a drabble gone long lol.

it's a spark!stiles slash derek whump sort of affair, just so you know what you're reading xp

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The dagger is almost within his reach—so very nearly grabbable.

Other than being eight years old in a hospital room with the smell of rotting flowers clinging to the back of his throat, Stiles doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than this.

Again, Derek hacks out, “Just run, Stiles!”

Again, Stiles answers no—only this time, it's not with his voice but a yellow-green vine of pure light that extends from his fingertips as he pleads with each beat of his heart for the universe to help him, the tendrils stretching, stretching, then victoriously winding themselves around the handle of the blade. 

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, now with his actual voice, and then the vine of his will is pulling the knife flush into his grip. 

He looks up at the hunter, their face a billboard of surprise, before a shriek rips itself from her belly at the very same time Derek roars from where he's tethered and bound, the wolfsbane-laced chains melting further into his flesh as he tries in vain to once again break free.

Then the evil bastard is flinging herself at Stiles—and straight into the dagger aimed at her solar plexus that his light sends sailing across the cave, plunging it deep into her breast.

It might not be bullseye, but it does the trick.

As she drops to the dusty ground like a discarded ragdoll, the other two hunters' heads snap like whiplash to where Stiles is sprawled, a look of pure terror marring their faces.

The cowardly fuckers drop their weapons and scatter, leaving Stiles and Derek alone—other than the dead woman at their feet—in the large cave they'd dragged Derek into a few hours ago.

Derek's wrung out, and beaten down, but alive. 

At once, Stiles scrambles to his feet to get over to where the ʼwolf is chained up, almost falling back down again when his probably sprained ankle gives way beneath him. 

“Stop fucking hurting yourself,” Derek hisses, and for once in Stiles's insane life he wishes he could gnash his teeth and roar in response, and it have an effect that would be anything other than ridiculous. 

“Oh my god,” he protests instead. “I've just saved your offensively pretty ass with my new spark's apparently awesome Gio-Ju-ju, a-hole, so how ʼbout we be a little less sourwolf and a lot more gratefulwolf to ol’Stilesy boy here, hmm?” he sasses, finding the key to the padlock that's bolted to Derek's chains on the flat rock where his flashlight got dropped when confiscated by one of the hunters. 

Stiles feels petulant, and justified in that petulance as he discards the now unlocked padlock. Then he feels a little wrong-footed when Derek quietly mumbles, “Thank you,” because the guy sounds both in a considerable amount of pain and genuinely grateful to Stiles.

Stiles sighs and kneels down to start prizing the chains away from Derek's red-raw, still-smoking skin, the ʼwolf's forever-stoic face giving away nothing of the hurt he's obviously suffering at the cruel hands of the aconite still desperately trying to seep its way into his body.

“You don't have to do that for me, you know,” Stiles says carefully, hinting at Derek's display of endurance.

Derek's eyes flicker from mid-space to Stiles's face, and Stiles suddenly notices that their heads are actually dizzyingly close.

He swallows, and the sound of it echoes around the cave as if mocking him. 

The second he peels away the last link in the chain attached to Derek's skin, and before Derek can push him away, Stiles brings a hand to Derek's throat to feel for his pulse. 

When determined fingers find it, Derek's face does a thing that Stiles hasn't seen it do before; it's this combination of incredulous and vulnerable, and is so unprecedented, and so beautiful, that Stiles sort of wants to cry about it. 

“You can hear mine,” he superfluously reminds Derek, before saying what he really wants to. “It's not fair I don't get to know—that you're alive, I mean. Like, I know I can see it but… The tactile reassurance? That's, uh, you know, kind of nice, too.” 

Man, he spends way too much time with werewolves. 

Then, when he licks at his dry lips and Derek's pulse quickens under his fingertips, Stiles is so much more than simply placated.

Taking a steadying breath, he feels a million trillion miles away from anything even remotely resembling steady.

He studies Derek's face some more for confirmation of his suspicion, and finds something akin to bashful swimming amid the swirls of those gorgeous seafoam eyes.

Derek likes him back?

Stiles sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Derek's pulse starts to race. 

Amazingly, it seems Stiles isn't alone in the want he feels deep in his gut, and as it grows and spreads to his extremities, his fingers and toes now tingling with it, he reckons he's maybe beaten-up and bleeding out and half-braindead enough to have the balls to actually do something about it. 

It must be biological, he thinks as he licks at his lips again, that his body somehow knows exactly what to do to hopefully get Derek to do exactly what Stiles wants him to—lick Stiles' lips for him, that is—without him making an actual fully-formed decision on the matter.

Although as soon as he's thinking that, the decision to kiss Derek is unequivocally made—even if it's going to get him shoved into the dirt for trying. 

He's about to lean in when one of Derek's already beginning-to-heal hands stops him by bracing his shoulder. 

“I can smell your pain, Stiles,” he says. “Let me help.”

Stiles tries not to smile as he lies through his teeth. “Hurts here, the most,” he murmurs, touching two fingers from the hand not at Derek's pulse to his bruised, bloody lips. He then curls the other hand further around the werewolf's neck, to hold on.

Derek starts to pant, and Stiles has to hold in a whine.

The werewolf sounds absolutely wrecked when he asks, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me by wrapping your hand around my throat?”

Stiles's smile then brakes free and is wry as his wit as he answers, “I've been working hard to find out how to woo you for months now, big guy. What do you think?”

And when Derek lunges to crush Stiles's mouth with his own, teasing Stiles' lips apart with his hot, hot tongue and nipping at them with blunted canines, Stiles reckons he knows what it must feel like to howl. 

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to drop me a comment xp

[cheqorb]

your mer-love fic was so good and ugh i LOVE mermaid au’s (esp with blue lock but theres BARELY any)!!

anyways u should do a pt 2 of your mer-love drabble/fic with rin, sae, kaiser and ness!! i’d love to read it if you do

MER-LOVE, 1.3

mermaid au! bllk boys with a researcher! reader

featuring. rin, sae, kaiser, ness

notes. thank-you for requesting anon! this might be absolute dogwater but hope you enjoy this…a few months after you even asked this (sorryyyy).

mer-love masterlist here !

any interactions with RIN are short and definitely not sweet. if he isn’t being harassed by any other mers that are interested in him, he normally stays around you because you “don’t bother him as much as the others do”. quoted by rin himself; which is considerably high praise coming from the rather aloof merman.

you probably first meet him simply because he got dragged by bachira or the like, but he’s not much of a conversation starter since he just sorta glared at you the whole time. it doesn’t get much better from that point onwards either, you’d think rin believed the world was against him by the way perfectly normal, well-meaning compliments are thrown to the side as if you’re insulting him.

with time though, he’ll start growing more fond of you! how can you tell? unless you’re freakishly talented at guessing people’s real emotions, who knows.

he (kinda) gets cuter in a way? maybe it’s just you being optimistic but you could’ve sworn that he has this look of pride whenever you choose to spend time with him over the other mers. like, of course you don’t want to hang out with weaklings like them or something along those lines. it takes a while but he’s noticeably softer with you than he is with his friends — he actually calls them lukewarm, but that’s just rin for ‘friends’ you think.

“Rin, ya there?”

He stares at you with mild disbelief, which almost makes you burst into a fit of laughter. “Since i’m very clearly here next to you, I think the answer’s quite obvious.”

You nod, grinning. “Thought you’d say that but anyways,” you say whilst reaching into a bag, “I wanted to give you a present! Take it as a token of my gratitude for you chatting with me.”

He eyes the object you give him coldly, but takes it anyway with a ghost of a smile on his face. How adorable.

SAE is someone very hard to come by, and even harder to start conversation with that don’t end in him just swimming away from you. if you thought talking to rin was like talking to a brick wall, just wait till you meet this guy.

he’s seemingly apathetic to anything and everything, incredibly blunt, and overall not a very nice guy. at least his lil brother doesn’t outright ignore you (he does call you an NPC and half baked though)! speaking of which, if you meet rin first you can definitely see the resemblance between the two. appearance is a main one, you would know those under-lashes from anywhere and now you definitely know where he gets the attitude from.

any signs of him ‘warming up’ to you are basically non existent. he’s as straightforward as ever and isn’t keen on the idea of suddenly being all over you like humans normally seem to do with the people they like.

to give credit where credit is due, he tries? even though he’s still a bit brutal with his delivery, you think he tries to avoid being so aggressive with his tone. he’s not exactly sugarcoating things, but simply not saying what’s on his mind as much as he used to. that whole spiel about if you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything, right? and besides, just him tolerating your presence should be enough for you to understand he’s trying to be nice (it really isn’t).

Sae has a talent for ruining any positive conversations with his honesty, the aftermath typically being him leaving the person or awkward silence ensues. To give credit where credit is due however, you also think he’s got a talent for somehow making people feel better.

He doesn’t sugarcoat things and while it can be harsh, it also means that compliments from him are genuine.

He listens to you rambling on about some annoying incidents at work, making the effort to nod every once in a while to remind you that he’s paying attention. “Sounds like something you can deal with yourself. There’s no reason to worry yourself about it, that’s a waste of your time.”

amidst a certain merman’s grumbling of someone called ‘KAISER’, you gain snippets of info that paint a less-than-flattering picture of the merman. he sounds like a major jerk. yet, despite his (isagi’s) colourful descriptions shall we say, you can't help but wonder if this kaiser fellow’s supposed villainy is just an exaggeration. but then again, to evoke such hatred from the usually amiable merman, he must be quite the character.

your first encounter with him is unremarkable, only seeing him as another mermaid who decided to show their face and you as some random human.

his curiosity is piqued however when he notices how fond the other merfolk are of you, and in typical kaiser fashion he’s determined to outshine everyone else. from your perspective, he’s just a weird dude. it’s as if he expects you to be grateful for his attention, even though it’s clear that he’s the one vying for your approval.

it’d be somewhat cute if it were anybody else, you think..? on him, it’s aggravating.

and yet, the more you pull away, the more determined he seems to become to disrupt any semblance of peace you have. he appears so often that you’ve grown to actually tolerate his presence and it even amuses you sometimes if the day is particularly boring. kaiser finds you just…okay (liar). he means- you’re nothing special so don’t get ahead of yourself but like, if YOU wanted to, he wouldn’t mind being with you until nightfall.

also don’t mention the sheer disgust and almost betrayal on his face whenever he sees one of your total losers of a colleague on watch duty instead of you. even worse if they’re partnered with you.

Judging by the very obvious glare Kaiser has on his face, you would say that he’s not too pleased with the sight of you and (coworker) together. Still, he could at least try be more discreet about it. You sigh as your companion only spares you a sympathetic look.

What’s annoying is that Kaiser occasionally glances in your direction — of course, whilst still glaring daggers at (coworker). Like he wants you to do something about them tagging along.

Having enough of it, you say, “Kaiser, you’re embarrassing me over here and yourself.” He pauses for a moment before simply turning around, probably sulking over the fact that you do indeed have relationships with other people that don’t involve him. That, or he’s embarrassed he got called out.

you’ll naturally come across NESS if you’ve already met kaiser and at first, you simply took him for the more timid type which could be the reason why he follows the former around like a lost puppy. wrong. not in the slightest.

well that’s a little harsh, but you mean that while he definitely has a bashful quality to him, he also seems to flip completely if you dare make a comment about kaiser. it’s a little scary. in spite of his dedication shall we call it, he’s actually one of the easiest mers to get along with. talk to him normally, avoid the topic of kaiser too often, spare some affection for him and he’s all over you soon enough!

just being generally nice around him is something he’ll appreciate it even if he doesn’t say it outright. poor thing is a little unfamiliar with people showing him basic human (or in this case merfolk) decency. makes you want to pat him on the head and spoil him a bit/squish him until he breaks — depending on what type of person you are, i guess.

when he gets more comfortable with you, ness is also clingy. like, really clingy. practically chasing after the other mers if they dare come within 10ft of you kind of clingy. it’s one of those rare moments where you appreciate the fact that kaiser is there since ness is still able to be reasoned if he’s there with him. sounds a little toxic at first but just set him straight and be patient with him. the end result is (hopefully) a slightly more relaxed version of him.

“…You alright, Ness?” you ask hesitantly. The merman in question is suspiciously quiet, especially after he just got into a mini spat with someone else.

Now, he looks up at you as if you’re a saint which weirds you out even more. He nods his head, before asking, “Are you worried about me?”

You’d think it was intended to be a snide comment, if it weren’t for the fact that you were dealing with Ness here. Besides, he says it so sincerely that you’d feel bad for poking fun at him. Maybe later though. “Of course.”

It seems to light up his whole world.

[vvynia]

smut ramble: ellie reading your body

pairing: e. williams x reader

genre: smut + fluff

word count: 440

warnings: language that explicitly denotes reader as afab, this is literally smut so reader's discretion is advised for that alone and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mention of past erotic choking but overall very vanilla

author’s note: i was straight up in the middle of reading another fic writer’s smut and got a burst of inspiration, then i wrote this. yay !! also, as a black woman, i usually write for black readers but reader’s race doesn’t make a monumental impact in this little drabble x4, so go crazy !! also, these dividers are by @cafekitsune ! the goat.

just had the most random (not really, i’ve been thinking about this for the last week and a half actually) thought of how tender ellie is with you; how, when she has you naked under the heat of her eyes, spread open for her in the most testimonal manner, she presses her center to your’s with the utmost care; how she slots her body against your’s just right. skin to skin, breaths in sync. that harmony always comes to an end, however, when she begins to circle her hips. her goal is to catch your clit with her’s just how you both like.

you’re sopping wet and, goodness, she can hear so vivdly the way her essence mingles with yours—lovingly, carnally, desperately. the slick of you two is hightened by the silence and stillness of the room. after all, not much moves on the acres of a farm in the middle of jackson county, wyoming just hours before sunrise (except the two women occupying the house, of course).

the aura around you two buzzes, and as she grows more needy for her release, ellie’s grunts and pants waltz with your whines. her gait is getting you a little too worked up for her liking, however. she sees the signs: tremoring thighs, thready inhales, lost hands begging for a place to squeeze and tug for refuge.

these make her slow just enough to turn your cries indignant. you lift your eyelids so you can glare your annoyance into her, but ellie’s already caught you in her gaze.

she husks, “keep ‘em open, baby.” she leans further into you to put a calloused hand on your cheek and a soft kiss upon your lips. “you gotta keep ‘em open if you wanna cum harder, remember?”

you do remember.

you remember the first time ellie made you squirt. it was when she’d wrapped her hand into a near-fist around your throat and forced you to give her your undivided attention as she fucked her strap into you at a pace so brutal, you had bambi legs afterward.

though, like i said, ellie williams is gentle today. she realigns your focus by gradually finding the pace she’d kept before your burst of excitement. she splays her hand across your hip, smooches the plush of your calf, and manages to never lose your eyes the entire time.

a cracked moan and a yelp later, you cum unbidden.

the moral of the story lies here: ellie speaks the language of your body as though she’s been studying linguistics for the entirety of her life. to such extent and farther, that is how much she loves you.

@picklesarenice69 - girl, i know this isn’t what you’ve been asking me to tag you in, but i wrote something and i thought you might appreciate it 😂