#send fic and drabble requests

[veethefreeelf]

Okay so I have a few reaction requests in my inbox but I don’t think I’m good at those

I can recommend some other writers for the anons in my inbox but I won’t be doing reactions

I write fics and can do some shorter drabbles because it’s what I enjoy reading and writing

I’m gonna update my fic rules and such so that you guys are aware

Sorry to the ones wanting reactions but my asks are fully open to fic and drabble requests (preferably from the groups and biases in my fic rules but I am open to others!)

Love you and thank you for reading my works 💗💗

CHEERS 🥂

[kpopcafeeee]

𝐀 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 ⚾️

➪𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝! 𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➪ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦. 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧.?

➪𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: talking behind another persons back, gossiping

➪𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @deltamoon666 , @chngbnwf , @soso59love-blog , @jiwoongsblondehair , @nanaspeaches , @sannieily , @kyeomooniee , @whoronoa , @ateez-atiny380 , @manifestinglly , @mingimangomu , @miracle-sol , @e3ellie , @yoongilover3 , @amazaynaastha , @zhangyi-johee , @foxinnie8 , @jaerisdiction , @txpxwxk , @yothangie , @darkerrdaze , @bananabangtan , @mitchii , @blossomflowerpott

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

YUNHO POV

As Yunho wakes up, he stretches, feeling the slight stiffness in his muscles from the previous day. The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls of his bedroom. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for another day of work. After a quick shower, he dresses in his usual attire—comfortable but professional—then heads to the kitchen for a light breakfast. While sipping his coffee, his thoughts wander back to you and Ye Joon. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more he needs to uncover, something that’s just out of reach. He tries to focus on the tasks ahead, but memories of the past keep slipping through the cracks. As he grabs his keys and heads out the door, he wonders if today will bring him any closer to understanding the missing pieces of the puzzle that is his old life and the new connections forming in the present. Yunho locks the door behind him and steps outside, the cool morning air waking him up fully. As he walks to his car, he can’t help but glance at his phone, half-expecting a message or call that will somehow bring clarity to his tangled thoughts. But the screen stays dark and silent. On the drive to work, his mind keeps replaying the moments from yesterday—Ye Joon’s proud smile, your distant gaze, and Wooyoung’s endless theories. He grips the steering wheel tighter, trying to shake off the unease that’s settled in his chest. There’s a nagging question in his mind, one that he hasn’t had the courage to voice out loud: What if the truth changes everything? Arriving at the practice field, he forces himself to focus on the present. The kids need him sharp, and he won’t let them down. But as he steps out of the car, the thought lingers—today might not be the day he finds answers, but he’s getting closer, and that both excites and terrifies him. For now, Yunho pushes those worries aside, greeting the team with a smile. But deep down, he knows that the question of who Ye Joon’s father is will eventually have to be answered.

Date: 6 Years Ago

It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings, the kind where time seemed to stretch and the world outside their bedroom didn’t matter. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The bed was a tangle of blankets and pillows, evidence of a night spent in each other’s arms. Yunho lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a satisfied grin on his face, while you were nestled beside him, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, the rhythm soothing and familiar. The sound of your soft laughter filled the room as you playfully teased him about his terrible attempt at cooking dinner the night before. “I swear, if I ever let you near a kitchen again, we might just have to live off takeout forever,” you joked, poking him lightly in the side. He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “Hey, I thought burnt pasta was a delicacy in some countries!” “Oh, sure,” you replied with mock seriousness, lifting your head to look at him. “I’ll be sure to book us a trip to wherever that is.” Yunho laughed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll leave the cooking to you, then. But you have to admit, I’m not so bad at making you laugh.” You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you looked into his eyes. “Yeah, you’re pretty good at that.” For a moment, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. You felt safe and happy, like nothing in the world could touch the little bubble of joy you had created together. Then, out of nowhere, Yunho started tickling you, causing you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Yunho! Stop! I can’t breathe!” you gasped between fits of giggles, trying and failing to squirm away from him. He finally relented, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But only because I love that smile of yours too much.”Catching your breath, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “And yet, you’re still here,” he teased, his smile softening as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “I’m still here.”

As Yunho sat at his desk, lost in thought and memories of the past, the sound of footsteps approaching broke through his reverie. Before he could fully snap out of his thoughts, a familiar voice called out. “Earth to Yunho!” Wooyoung grinned, waving a cup of coffee in front of his face. “You look like you could use this.” Yunho blinked, pulling himself back to the present. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing. “Thanks, Wooyoung,” he said, taking the coffee gratefully. “You were really zoned out there,” Wooyoung observed, leaning against the desk. “Thinking about someone special?” Yunho sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. The warmth of the drink helped ground him, but the thoughts of you still lingered in the back of his mind. “Yeah…something like that.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly interested but sensing that Yunho didn’t want to go into too much detail. Instead, he opted for his usual lighthearted approach. “Well, whoever she is, you better snap out of it and focus, buddy. We’ve got a busy day ahead, and I can’t carry all the charm and good looks around here by myself.” Yunho chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “You’ve got a point. Let’s get to it.” As they both settled into the day’s tasks, Yunho couldn’t help but feel grateful for Wooyoung’s timing. His friend’s antics might be a little over the top at times, but he always knew how to bring a bit of lightness to even the heaviest of days. And for now, that was exactly what Yunho needed.

At practice, Ye Joon was full of energy. He loved baseball—every throw, every swing, every cheer from his teammates. Today felt different, though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt even more motivated than usual. As Coach Yunho and Coach Wooyoung gave them tips and instructions, Ye Joon soaked it all in. He wanted to make his mom proud, but there was something about Coach Yunho that made him want to give it his all even more. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, or how he seemed to understand what Ye Joon was thinking without him having to say a word. After a particularly good throw, Coach Wooyoung came over, clapping him on the back. “Nice one, Ye Joon!” he said with a grin. “Hey, by the way, I heard a rumor—you got any secrets you want to share with your old coach?” Ye Joon looked up at him, his face lighting up with a mischievous smile. He put his index finger to his lips and whispered, “It’s a secret, Coach! Only me and Mom know!” Then, with a playful wink, he ran off to join the other kids, leaving Wooyoung laughing behind him. As practice went on, Ye Joon felt the weight of his secret, but in a good way. He knew something special that no one else did—something that made him feel important. And as he looked over at his mom, sitting in the bleachers with a proud smile on her face, he knew that whatever secrets they had, they were safe with her. Ye Joon’s eyes darted to the stands once more, and he spotted his aunt waving excitedly beside his mom. She had come to every practice lately, cheering just as loudly as his mom. He felt even more energized knowing that both of them were there, supporting him. Auntie always brought him snacks after practice, and he could already imagine the treat she’d have waiting today. As he waited for his next turn at bat, he could hear her voice over the crowd. “You got this, Ye Joon!” she called out, her smile as bright as his mom’s. It made him feel like a superstar. When he finally hit another solid shot, sending the ball soaring across the field, he could hear both his mom and aunt celebrating together. They jumped up, high-fiving each other, and Ye Joon couldn’t help but laugh as he rounded the bases. After practice, as he ran toward them, he saw his aunt holding out a bag of his favorite snacks. “Great job, superstar!” she said, ruffling his hair as he took the bag. “Thanks, Auntie!” Ye Joon beamed, feeling on top of the world with both his mom and aunt there to cheer him on. As practice wrapped up, all the parents and children gathered near the field. The air buzzed with excitement as Wooyoung and the other coaches stepped forward, calling everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone!” Wooyoung began, clapping his hands to quiet the chatter. “Listen up, because we’ve got some exciting news. Next week, we have a big game coming up. And if we win, guess what?” He paused, grinning as the kids leaned in closer, their eyes wide with anticipation. “We get to go on a trip!” The kids erupted in cheers, their faces lighting up with excitement. Ye Joon’s eyes grew wide as he looked up at his mom and aunt, who smiled back at him, just as thrilled. The idea of a team trip added an extra layer of motivation for everyone.“We don’t know where we’re going yet,” one of the other coaches added with a wink, “but I promise it’ll be something special. So, make sure you’re all practicing hard this week!” The parents exchanged amused glances, some already discussing the logistics of the possible trip. The kids, meanwhile, were buzzing with energy, talking about how they were going to train even harder to ensure the win. Ye Joon looked up at his mom, tugging at her sleeve. “Mom, do you think we’ll win?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement and determination. She smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. “I know you’ll do your best, Joonie. And no matter what, we’ll be there cheering you on.” As Yunho observed the interaction between Ye Joon and you, he couldn’t help but smile. The way Ye Joon’s face lit up with excitement, and the warmth in your eyes as you encouraged him, stirred something deep inside Yunho. It was a scene that felt both familiar and distant—like a glimpse into a life he once imagined but never fully had. Seeing you with Ye Joon, your bond so natural and strong, brought back memories of when things were simpler between the two of you. For a moment, all the worries, questions, and uncertainties faded away, replaced by the quiet contentment of watching this small, precious moment unfold. Yunho’s smile lingered as he turned his attention back to the kids, his heart feeling a little lighter yet still weighed down with what could have been.

As the field cleared out and the other parents and children began to leave, Yunho lingered, organizing the last of the equipment. He overheard two moms standing near the bleachers, their conversation shifting to you. “Did you hear about Y/N?” one of them said, her tone laden with gossip. “I heard she might be messing around, and some say she might not even know who Ye Joon’s real father is. There’s even a rumor that Ye Joon could be her sister’s child.” The other mom nodded in agreement. “It’s just strange how private she is. Maybe she’s hiding something. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pretended to be something they’re not.” The remarks stung, but Yunho’s concern for you and Ye Joon overpowered his initial shock. He walked up to them, his expression serious. “Excuse me,” he said firmly, “but it’s not okay to talk about someone like that. Ye Joon deserves to have his family’s privacy respected, and you have no right to spread such rumors. For all you know, Ye Joon’s father could be someone who works hard to support him and Y/N.”

The two women glanced at each other, taken aback. One of them asked, “Are you the father, then?” Yunho was momentarily speechless, caught off guard by the direct question. He quickly shook his head. “No, I’m not.” The woman smirked. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with skepticism. Yunho felt a mix of frustration and sadness. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. It’s not acceptable to gossip about someone’s private life. You should treat others with the same respect you’d want for yourself. Please don’t let this happen again.” Seeing the gravity in Yunho’s demeanor, the women reluctantly agreed. They nodded, mumbling apologies, and quickly walked away. Yunho watched them go, feeling a mix of relief and lingering frustration. He hoped that by standing up for you, he had done something positive—something that might start to mend the distance between him and the life he had left behind.

As the weekend rolled around, you, Ye Joon, and your sister decided to tackle the grocery shopping together. The aisles were bustling with shoppers, and the three of you navigated the crowded space, chatting and picking out items for the week. In the midst of your shopping, Yunho happened to walk into the same grocery store. As he made his way through the aisles, he spotted you and your sister a few rows over. Just as he was about to approach and say hello, a tall man with a warm smile and an easy demeanor came up to you.

“Hey, Ye Joon! Hi, Y/N! Hi, Jihyun!” the man greeted, his voice cheerful. Ye Joon ran up to him with excitement. “Mingi!” he exclaimed, hugging the man tightly. Yunho stopped in his tracks, his curiosity piqued. He watched as Mingi interacted with you and your sister, noting the friendly and familiar nature of their conversation. The way Ye Joon clung to Mingi and the ease with which Mingi spoke to you gave Yunho pause. As Yunho observed from a distance, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He noticed how Mingi seemed to be an important figure in Ye Joon’s life, though Yunho couldn’t quite piece together the exact relationship. The affectionate interaction between Mingi and Ye Joon affection towards each other was very questionable like their were a son and father duo. Yunho’s thoughts swirled with questions and unspoken regrets. As he continued to watch from afar, he felt an increasing sense of longing and a subtle pang of envy. The sight of Mingi’s easy rapport with you and Ye Joon only deepened Yunho’s feelings of what could have been, leaving him to reflect on his choices and the path his life had taken.

Yunho’s heart ached with a blend of envy and regret as he watched the interaction between you, Ye Joon, and Mingi. From his hidden spot, he observed Mingi’s effortless ease with your family, the way Ye Joon beamed at him, and how comfortable and natural everything seemed. Mingi’s presence brought a warmth to the moment that Yunho felt he had missed out on.He saw how Mingi gently guided Ye Joon through the grocery store aisles, making him laugh with playful banter. The sight of you and your sister chatting with Mingi, clearly at ease and familiar with him, only deepened Yunho’s sense of exclusion. He envied the way Mingi seemed to fit into your lives so seamlessly, providing a comfort and stability that Yunho felt he had failed to offer. The affectionate way Ye Joon interacted with Mingi, calling him by name and hugging him with genuine affection, tugged at Yunho’s heart. It made him question his own choices and the opportunities he had lost. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too late, if there was still a place for him in your lives. As Mingi said his goodbyes and left, Yunho remained behind, lost in thought. The sight of you and Ye Joon walking away together, content and happy, left him grappling with a deep sense of regret. He envied the relationship between Mingi and you, feeling the sting of missed moments and wondering if he could ever bridge the gap that had grown between him and the family he had once hoped to have. With game day 1 day away, the atmosphere becomes electric. Yunho can’t shake the feeling that this game could change everything—for the team, for Ye Joon, and perhaps for his own life as well. He notices how Mingi seems more integrated into your life, and the envy he feels gnaws at him, a constant reminder of what he lost. Every time he sees Ye Joon practicing, he can’t help but wonder about the connection between you, your son, and Mingi.

Your sister, always the supportive one, keeps things light-hearted, but even she can sense the unspoken tension. You find yourself caught between the excitement of the upcoming game and the unresolved emotions that seem to bubble up whenever Yunho is around. Every interaction, every glance exchanged, seems to carry a weight that wasn’t there before. As the days tick by, Yunho wrestles with whether to finally address the questions that have been eating away at him. He knows he needs to focus on the team, but the lines between his personal and professional life blur more and more with each practice. The closer the game gets, the more Yunho realizes that he’s not just fighting for a win on the field—he’s fighting for clarity, closure, and perhaps a second chance. After practice, Ye Joon is full of energy, despite the long session. His little legs move quickly as he runs toward you with a wide grin on his face. “Mama, did you see me? I hit the ball really far today!” he exclaims, his excitement contagious. You smile warmly, crouching down to his level. “I saw, baby! You did amazing. You’re getting better every day.” His aunt ruffles his hair playfully, adding, “You’re going to be a star, Ye Joon. Just like your favorite player!” Ye Joon beams, his confidence soaring. As you all gather his things and prepare to head home, you notice how he can’t stop talking about the upcoming game. “If we win, we get to go on a trip! Coach Wooyoung said so!” he says excitedly, bouncing on his toes. As you buckle him into his seat, you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “We’ll be cheering for you the loudest,” you promise, giving him a kiss on the forehead. On the way home, Ye Joon chatters non-stop about practice, the game, and even Mingi, who has been helping him with some extra practice sessions. His excitement is infectious, and by the time you reach home, you can’t wait to see him shine on game day. At dinner, the atmosphere is cozy and filled with warmth as you, Ye Joon, and your sister sit around the table. The scent of the meal fills the air, and the clinking of utensils is accompanied by light-hearted conversation. Ye Joon excitedly recounts his practice, his voice animated as he talks about his friends and the upcoming game.

Your sister smiles as she listens, occasionally chiming in with a joke or question, making Ye Joon laugh. You can’t help but feel a sense of contentment, watching your little family interact so naturally. After dinner, you and your sister clear the table, while Ye Joon goes to grab his favorite bedtime story. Once the kitchen is clean, you move into the evening routine—preparing Ye Joon for bed. He eagerly brushes his teeth, and you help him into his pajamas, all while your sister tidies up his room. As you tuck him in, Ye Joon pulls out the storybook, holding it up with a sleepy smile. “Can you read it to me, Mama?” he asks softly, his eyes already drooping. You sit beside him, smoothing his hair as you read aloud. Your sister sits nearby, adding funny voices to the characters, making Ye Joon giggle. Soon, his laughter fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing as he drifts off to sleep. Once he’s settled, you and your sister quietly step out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The day has been long, but the moments spent with your family bring a sense of peace as you both prepare for the night ahead.

As you prepare yourself for bed, your thoughts drift back to the old times with Yunho. Memories flood your mind—his laughter, the way he used to look at you, the moments you shared. Those days felt so distant now, yet still so close in your heart. You sigh as you slip into your pajamas, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The thought of telling Yunho the truth about Ye Joon crosses your mind, lingering there for longer than usual. Maybe he deserves to know. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and give him the chance to be a part of your son’s life. But as you focus on that idea, doubt creeps in. What if he’s angry? What if he can’t forgive you for keeping such a huge secret from him all these years? The thought of Yunho’s possible reaction—his hurt, his anger—makes your chest tighten. You pause, letting out a shaky breath. The risk feels too great. The fear of losing what little peace you’ve found outweighs the hope of a happy reunion. No, you can’t tell him—not now. Maybe not ever. With a heavy heart, you crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over yourself. As you close your eyes, you try to push the thoughts away, but Yunho’s face lingers in your mind. Sleep doesn’t come easily, and when it does, it’s filled with dreams of what could have been and what may never be.

The morning of game day arrives with a mix of excitement and nerves in the air. Ye Joon wakes up early, buzzing with energy. As soon as he opens his eyes, he’s already thinking about the game, imagining himself on the field, ready to make his big plays. You wake up to the sound of him rustling around in his room. When you enter, you find him already half-dressed in his uniform, struggling with his socks, a determined look on his face. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Ready for the big game, champ?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. Ye Joon looks up, his eyes shining with excitement. “I’m gonna hit the ball so hard today, Mom! Just like Coach Yunho taught me!” You laugh softly and help him with his socks, making sure his uniform is all set. After a quick breakfast, you pack his practice bag with water, snacks, and his glove, double-checking that everything is in place. As the two of you head out the door, your sister joins you, carrying a small cooler with snacks for later. The morning sun is bright, and the crisp air feels refreshing. Ye Joon’s excitement is contagious, and you find yourself feeling optimistic about the day ahead. In the car, Ye Joon talks nonstop about the game, his strategy, and how he plans to impress everyone. You listen, smiling at his determination, and give him a few encouraging words. When you arrive at the field, it’s already bustling with parents, coaches, and kids. Ye Joon hops out of the car, practically bouncing with excitement. You watch as he runs ahead, ready to join his teammates, your heart swelling with pride. As you make your way to the bleachers, you spot Yunho talking with Wooyoung, both of them looking focused and ready for the day. When Yunho catches sight of Ye Joon, a smile spreads across his face, and he waves at your son, who eagerly waves back before joining his friends. The game day has officially begun, and you can’t help but feel a mix of pride and nerves as you take your seat, ready to watch Ye Joon give it his all.

As the game progresses, the scores remain tied, and the tension on the field is palpable. Ye Joon steps up to the plate, determination in his eyes. But just as the pitcher winds up, something feels off. The ball comes hurtling toward Ye Joon, not at the bat, but at his thigh. The painful thud echoes through the field, and Ye Joon stumbles back, clutching his leg. A collective gasp rises from the crowd as you shoot up from your seat, making your way down to the field. Ye Joon, furious, prepares to retaliate, but before he can, the other coach intervenes, pushing him back. "Stop right there, kid. You need to calm down," the coach orders, his voice stern. Before you can even reach them, Yunho steps in between Ye Joon and the opposing coach. "Keep your hands off him," Yunho says, his voice firm. "Your player hit him on purpose—and mocked ye joon by sticking his tongue out at him"

The other coach glares at Yunho, his voice rising. "Are you the father of this kid? Because if you're not, maybe you should step back and let the parents handle it." Yunho opens his mouth to reply, but just as he's about to speak, you arrive, stepping in front of both men. "I’m Ye Joon's mother," you say, your voice steady but full of controlled anger. "And I don’t appreciate anyone putting their hands on my son. That pitch was deliberate, and your player owes him an apology." The other coach sneers, refusing to back down. "Maybe if you taught him to handle the game without causing a scene, we wouldn’t be here."

You cross your arms, unwavering. "My son wasn’t the one who threw that ball out of spite. Your player needs to learn that sportsmanship matters." Yunho nods in agreement, stepping beside you. "There’s a difference between a mistake and intent. This wasn’t an accident—it was intentional." The coach narrows his eyes at Yunho, still defiant. "A coach, huh? Maybe teach your team to take some heat instead of running to his mom every time." You take another step forward, your voice firm. "This isn’t about taking the heat. It’s about respect. Your player crossed the line, and you're making excuses for him." After a few more moments of tense back-and-forth, the opposing coach realizes he's outmatched. With a huff, he raises his hands. "Fine. Let’s just get back to the game." You give Ye Joon one last reassuring look before heading back to your seat, knowing that, despite everything, your son is ready to finish the game. Meanwhile, Yunho stays on the field a moment longer, his eyes lingering on you and Ye Joon.

Even after the argument and Ye Joon’s minor injury, his team won the game and the trip to wherever they wanted to go. The celebration was lively, and you were joyfully cheering with Ye Joon. As the excitement continued, your sister pulled you aside, her tone serious. “You need to tell Yunho the truth,” she urged. “He needs to know that Ye Joon is his son. It’s the right thing to do.”You were about to reply when a sudden crash interrupted you. Two cups of water had fallen, their contents splashing onto the floor. Looking up, you saw Yunho standing a few feet away, his face a mix of shock, disappointment, and heartbreak.

He took a step forward, his voice trembling slightly. “Is it true? Am I… am I Ye Joon’s father?”

A/N: WHAT A SHOCKER 🫢

PLEASE DO NOT COPYRIGHT, OR PLAGIARISE!

➭taglist for part 5:

MADE BY KPOPCAFEEE ©

[tpwkwriter]

hellooo! i love ur writing, could u please do one where Y/n and harry talking about the nicknames they have for each other and why and harrys are really sweet and cute. (ideas of nicknames from harry to y/n: princess, sweetheart, baby, sweet girl, angel, beautiful, my girl, my love, darling, pretty girl etc.) and then liek harry starts tickling y/n and its all fluff tysm

My only Angel

Omggg tysmmmm🤍 and thank you for the request it’s absolutely adorable<3

Warnings: slight cussing, tooth rotting fluff, supperrr duperrr domestic.

— — — — —

Through this relationship pet names were always there.

Even from the very beginning.

Even if they were upset, angry or frustrated there was always a ‘love’ or ‘baby’ in the mix.

“Why you so lovey today?” Y/n asked adjusting her arm so Harry can fit closer to her side.

“Y’complaining?” He lowly asked.

“Not at all, y’okay?”

“Mmmhmm, jus’ wanna love all over you” he whines.

“Such a sap sometimes” she says dropping her phone and snuggling in further to his warmth.

“Y’ cant blame me, Y’so lovely love”

“There not kidding when they say you love love” she laughed.

“Mmhmmm, I love loveee love you” he dragged craning his head slightly to press kisses to her cheek

“I love you too harry” she replied, melting under him.

“Heyyy” he frowned, lips leaving her cheeks.

“What?”

“Y’never say Harry” he falsely pouted.

“Oh, I love you too bubs” she giggled.

“God were sickly” she added.

“Mmm, but that’s why I love us” he hummed.

“Our pet names are weird” she thought, running her free hand through his disheveled curls.

“Noooo, there cute” he answered.

“Okay bug” she giggled emphasising the last word.

“I like that oneee, it’s cute” he defended.

“What’s y’favourite?” He asked, his eyes opening to watch the girl speak.

“Uhhhh” she sighed “where do I start”

“You call me Princess only really when y’drunk but I find it sorta cute, but you melt m’heart when you say ‘darling’ or ‘poppet’” she admitted, a slight heat rising to her cheeks.

“Is tha’ so?” She smirks, his arms tightening around the girl, loving the fact he has the effect.

“And when m’sad ‘angel’ can always make me feel better” she smiles.

“Can’t have m’angel being upset” he responded pressing a kiss to her nose.

“What’s yours then?” She said eyebrows raising.

“Well, obviously the traditional, ‘babe’ n ‘baby’ not really a pet name but I find ‘H’ sweet” he said as his ringed fingers go to her chin and guide her for a sweet peck.

“I love calling you bubs!” She said, a toothy grin evident.

“Y’too cute” he said pratically melting into her soft touches.

“Y’so clingy sometimes” she blushed, pressing a kiss to the boys forehead.

“Clingy?” He said head shooting up.

“Y’really asking for it huh?”

Without another word he moved into a straddling position above the girl, giving the girl 0 time to think, his fingers found her sides and he began mercilessly tickling the girl.

“Harry” she gasped, a line of giggles leaving her mouth.

“Omg!” She yelped.

“Tell me you love me n m’the best and I’ll stop” he smiled.

“N-no- n-never” she laughed, trying her best to flail him off, but to her Knowledge his time in the gym paid off.

“alright” he smirked as continued.

“Ok-okay, baby yo-you are th- the best boyfriend and I love you so much your the best” she managed to blurt in between fits of laughter and play screaming.

“Aww thank you poppet” he emphasises, leaning down and kissing her smiley lips.

“Now get off me y’lump” she said trying not to laugh, trying to wriggle out of his hold.

“Heyyyyyy”

“Where’s this attitude come from?”

“Because you tickled meee” she dragged adding a false pout to add to the effect.

“Ohhhh babyyyyyyy” he cooed, “c’mere” Harry rolled to the left side of the girl and opened his arms wide for the girl to hide herself in just like he did previously.

“Hate you” she huffed, snuggling into him.

“That’s why y’cuddling me then?” He teased, wrapping his arms fully around the girl.

“Shut up” she mumbled

— — — — —

[circusinthewalls]

SFW Gaz Ramblings - 18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

(CW: Therapy Dog Hybrid! Reader | ow ow ow my fuckin' arms 😭) [Masterlist]

You whine as Kyle strokes his thumb over the length of your forearm. The movement is a little too quick, just a fraction too abrasive for your newly sensitive flesh. That familiar searing pain thrums back to life in mere seconds. Heat radiates off you with every pulse of it.

He sighs, setting your arm back down gently in your lap to instead inspect the other.

"You didn't wear sunscreen?" he asks.

You want to lie because you know how utterly avoidable of a mistake this was, but it's not like the truth isn't written all over you. You'd only make a bigger fool out of yourself at this point.

"Didn't think we'd be outside that long," you murmur, avoiding his gaze as your ears pin back somewhat.

Opposed to the chastising tone you expect to receive, he only tuts.

"Gonna have to have a word with those recruits, huh, sweetheart?"

Disapproval laces the question, but much to your surprise, it isn't actually directed at you. This sparks a bit of inquisitiveness within you, those folded ears perking up again. You tilt your head at him, curious.

"What?"

He looks up to meet your gaze now and seems almost amused at your apparent befuddlement, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky smile.

"Well, they're the ones that took our therapy dog for too long of a walk, aren't they?" he says. "Bet they forgot to put any on themselves."

"But I wanted to go," you interject, leaning forward and nearly sliding off the counter he has you sat on when he steps away to get in the fridge.

You watch him rummage around in it, digging through until he emerges with what smells to you like aloe vera gel. He returns then, already unscrewing the cap on the way over.

"I know," he replies, "but they knew how long that walk was going to be. You didn't. They should've known better than to go without sunscreen on any of you."

Your brow knits as you consider his words, ears pinning back once more.

"Guess so."

Kyle hums, content with your supposed agreement.

"Let me see your arms, love."

You comply, raising both. Another hum sounds from him, this one praising.

"So good," he murmurs. "Just hold still while I apply this, yeah? You'll feel better in no time."

---------------------------------------------------

Little something I wrote back on the first of this month while I was dealing with the most egregious fuckin' sunburn on my arms.

Anyway, sorry for the lack of posts recently! Been busy with work and other life things. My drafts are full up of stuff I've been working on (three larger fics and a number of one-shots + requests), so I really wanted to get something out for y'all. I do have a decent bit of free time this week, and I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing. There will be more of Therapy Dog Hybrid! Reader in the form of little one-shots over time, but other stuff I've been meaning to get posted will come first.

As always, thank you for your patience! Y'all are delightful. Means a lot to know you enjoy my work. <3

Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[serenescribe]

Another day, another ficlet prompt! I’ve been mostly doing a mix of genres so let me pull another genre out of my bag o ideas…

Young prince Silver wanders into the woods to play after finally getting permission, but he wandered off. At least he seems to have found a friend in a slender, black haired figure whose eyes glow red but whose smile is just so kind.

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Here you go, mister!”

Silver’s friend smiles as he thrusts a gift into the palm of his hands — a wreath of flowers bound together, stems knotted into a loop to form a beautiful flower crown. It’s one of the things his nanny taught him when he was young, wanting to run through the palace gardens and admire the pretty flowers and all their bright colours. “Cross the stems over each other like this, you see?” she would tell him, the two of them sitting on a bench, a bundle of flowers piled between them. “Keep braiding it until you’ve got enough space, then add another flower. Come on now, you can do it, young master!”

“My, my,” his friend muses, taking the flowers from him in those pale hands. His red eyes seem to glow a little brighter, teeth showing as he smiles widely. “What a lovely gift this is! How long did this take you, little one?”

“Not very long,” Silver admits, a small sliver of pride sneaking into his voice. “I’ve been practising since I was really young! I can make them really fast now!”

“How talented you are!” He squirms a little as those fingers ruffle his hair, ignoring the way sharp nails nick at his scalp a little bit. His friend has nails that are a biiit too sharp, but that’s okay! It makes it easy for him to slice through the fruit they find in the forests, splitting it between the two of them to share.

See, for a while, Silver has wanted to make a gift for his friend. He’d first met him when he got permission to visit the woods, only to end up miserably lost. It wasn’t his fault the trees all looked so similar! He’d struggled to find his way out, and had eventually ended up curling into a ball by the foot of a tree, crying messily, when a shadow fell upon him.

Sure, his friend was a little scary at first. Silver had frozen at the sight of those gleaming red eyes that seemed to pierce the darkness… the dark hair that framed his face, long strands dragging against the ground in knotted clumps… the too-sharp teeth and too-long nails that he had, revealing them when he’d opened his mouth to smile and raised his hand to wave. But those were things of the past! Now, Silver knows that those red eyes are easy to find in the dark if he gets lost! And that long hair is fun to style! And his long nails and sharp teeth make it really cool to watch him tear fruit and rip branches apart!

His friend places Silver’s gift onto his head, nestling the flowers amidst dark locks of hair. Silver doesn’t recognise all the flowers, still struggling to remember all the anthology lessons he’s been taught. But he does remember some of them — daisies and daffodils, and pretty roses too!

Silver knows he shouldn’t be sneaking out to visit his friend like this. It’s dangerous, after all — that’s what his parents have always told him, reminding him that as a prince, he’s always in danger of being caught. But… it’s okay! Because Silver knows his friend will protect him. He’s always waiting for him when Silver wiggles out of the little gap in the garden walls, happily scooping him up to spin him around before they head into the forest together. And if he’s being entirely honest… his friend is nicer to Silver than his parents. Not that his mother and father are bad; Silver knows they love him dearly. But… they’re always busy. It gets a little lonely sometimes.

Sometimes he wishes he could stay in the forest with his friend. That would be fun, Silver thinks, smiling as he takes in the gleam of those bright red eyes, the cheerful smile on that pale face.

[blorboazula]

for the word prompt: beach!

thanks for turning anon available btw 😭😭

-Leocchisart

Thanks for the prompt! (I noticed I should leave anon on if I ask for prompts)

Katara likes warmth, she likes the sun, she likes it all very much, thank you. So she makes visiting Ember Island a yearly tradition, for no reason other than because she likes tropical summers. Yes, yes, nothing else. No surprisingly charming Firebender involved in her desire to come here.

It's a full moon night, there's a pleasant breeze across the small, private beach. It's quiet, the sea is quite calm in the strip of land that belong to the Firelords. The moon's so bright she can see everything. It's not as bright as the plumes of blue flames that keep bringing Katara's attention back to the Firebender.

Should the sight be this glorious?

Without Ozai there to ruin everything, it's so, so easy to fall in love with Azula. Smart, strong, brave and loyal, aren't those honorable traits? It helps that she's beautiful under the moonlight, glowing blue and with her eyes closed.

Katara loves warm, bright things. Like the sun, like dragonfire, like Azula.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

For a Dean Drabble please sweetness. 🙏🏼xx

Phew!! 🥵🥵 So many ideas!! 😁 Thanks for this, sweetie!

[kakashiislut]

Great Dog Shite~

Ghost Drabble. Food Struggles.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Horrible…” you whispered, shutting his fridge door shut. “This all you got? How do you even survive?” You question, turning to stare at ghost. He was struggling to get to his crutches that where tossed near the base of the couch. “I haven’t been here in weeks,” he grunted “why would I have- can you fucking help me?!” He cut himself off, waving his hand to them. “I needa bloody piss”

You obliged, grabbing them and handing them off to him. He pushed himself out of his wheelchair and situated himself between them. You helped him reach the bathroom, moving variously tossed items out of his way. “Pig sty in here…” you whispered under your breath.

Ghost was out due to breaking his leg during active duty. You were there to take care of him, ‘cause you and him where somewhat…close? You wouldn’t think he’d necessarily put it like that, but he did say “you annoy me the least.” So that’s a win? (Angy ghost noises)

Reaching the bathroom, he insisted he can help himself and pushed you out. Rightfully, of course. “Hey! Ima head to the shops…okay? Gonna get you some actual food…seriously dude” you called out, only turning to leave once you heard him grunt out a sure.

Slimy bastard.

~

“I AM BACKKKKK” you cheered out, doing a little dance thru the kitchen to reach the fridge. “Damn….was praying you’d get hit by a truck” he called out, voice laced with solemn. “Too bad, so sad, Mr Riley,” sarcastically shaking your head, you let down the heavy bags to the floor and sat near them, “but I got some good stuff, so don’t worry.”

As you started to put them away, you bunched all the bags to fit into one. “Hey, Riley?” You can hear him sigh a bit “ya?” There was a tiny silence “what where you eating when you where at home? Before right now” you ask, putting some fresh milk on the side of the door. “Shit.” he spoke nonchalantly, not seeming to care much, “shit? That’s all?” You ask back, scrunching your eyebrows a bit “ya…just…shit…I guess? Stuff I’d find that I’ve bought recently…I guess?”

Simon Riley always seemed so sure of himself…but not this time. Food trauma…maybe? Did Simon Riley not Deem himself good enough for a proper meal? Hell, you’ve barely seen him eat in the mess hall anyway.

“Ok.” You whisper.

~

“Voila!” You cheered, placing down a hearty plate of food Infront of him. “This is my seriously famous, 100% five star Michelin star, btw I’m NOT LYING!!! It’s super duper famous, Shepards pie” you giggle, watching him lean forward to stare at it. “Looks like dog shite” but his actions differ. He turns off the T.V and picks up his fork and digs in “taste like dog shite too,” but he doesn’t stop. He keeps eating his meal until the plate is empty, full again, then empty.

He fixes the mask over his face a bit, before leaning back to gently rub his stomach. “Damn….that was good” he mumbles, looking a bit sleepy.

“Good dog shite?” You question, earning a huff.

“Great dog shite…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I Just really needs put something out. Promise I’m not fully dead, just fully drained. :)

[thehauntedetheral]

THANK YOU SO MUCH ALL FOR OVER 400 FOLLOWERS!!!!💕

Really means a lot. Please take care of yourself stay hydrated and happy. I love you all!!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Please keep sending me ideas. I love writing for you people.

[daemonfish]

there are almost 500 of you!

[purplebass]

Oh, and a word for Thomastair: Um,,, pearl!

This is part of another longer fic idea I've had in mind for weeks where Thomas and Alastair go to Italy. After we met yesterday, I just knew that I had to use this for the prompt you asked :)

Thomas had never been on an actual beach before, so the day after he and Alastair arrived in Italy, the first thing they did was packing their bags with towels and food and go swimming in the bright blue Mediterranean sea.

They were walking on the shore when something picked Thomas’ interest and he couldn’t help but taking it in his hands to inspect it. “Look what I found,” he said to a curious Alastair, “it looks like an oyster.”

Alastair didn’t know much about seashells, but he believed that Thomas could be right. “It is really interesting,” he commented.

“There is no pearl inside,” Thomas said with disappointment after opening it, not really sure what he was expecting inside the shell.

“You are a pearl, hamsaram,” Alastair said, and that was enough to make Thomas forget about the oyster altogether.

[infinite-orangepeel]

Can’t stop thinking about Steve -do I really want to be in another meaningless relationship only based on sex?- Harrington coming to the conclusion that his scars can be pretty off putting and spiraling because now girls won’t even want him for his body. Eddie thinks they only add to his beauty.

me too me too me too ! i've written so much fic content about steve and eddie and their scars bc these are the types of thoughts that keep me up at night. ughhh. i adore this so much <333 thx for submitting :)

bc i've written on this topic (as its one of my faves), i thought i'd include an excerpt from one of my fics as my answer !! hope you enjoy !

Steve’s gritting his teeth, because the rubbing alcohol on his fresh cuts somehow stings worse than the demobat bites did. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” he groans, as Eddie dabs along his wounds with a soaked cotton ball. Strategically rubbing up and down Steve’s calf with his other hand to calm him. 

“Just a little more,” Eddie looks up at him from his crouched position, “Then, it’s only the bandages and you’ll be good as new.” 

True to his word, the torture doesn’t last much longer—a few minutes max, though Steve’s comprehension of time is still fucked up from this morning. It feels like some time after noon, but it’s hard to be certain without the assistance of a clock. 

Frankly, it’s not like he has hard-set plans for today or any other day this week. He’s not missing out on anything substantial, especially not since his boss conveniently stopped putting him on the schedule after he slept through one too many shifts a few weeks ago. 

Besides, he’d much rather be here than anywhere else. With Eddie’s callused hands centering him and curating a new normal. 

Eddie props himself up on his knees to place the few small bandages on Steve’s inner thighs. He’s extremely methodical about the process which Steve wouldn’t have expected from someone as spontaneous and off-the-cuff as him. 

“Doing okay up there?” Eddie implores, meeting his eyes with a sweet smile. 

His dimples make an impromptu appearance and Steve thinks he might just melt into a puddle at the view. 

God he’s so fucking beautiful. Holy–

“Peachy,” Steve responds and nods to affirm the statement like his thoughts are puritanical and going to lead him straight to heaven. 

However, his mind says otherwise; riddled with sin and lust–

Would be doing much better with your dick in me. Filling up my throat until I can’t breathe. I think that would be very healing, don’t you? 

Admittedly, his internal dialogue has gotten increasingly horny since he exited the bath. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Eddie’s kneeling before him, tending to his injuries, speaking in a raspy tone, and oh yeah –there’s the fact that Steve’s butt ass naked.

He hadn’t originally envisioned it going like this, but here they were. There wasn’t some juicy blueprint with a mock up of his dick and every other inch of him on full display for his resident nurse. It’s not like he had some hidden agenda. 

When Eddie had helped him out of the bathtub—so he didn’t slip or whatever—he hadn’t instructed Steve to get dressed, so Steve had simply toweled off and tossed the terrycloth thing to the side once he was dry. Eddie smirked at him with a sort of curiosity, but didn’t make any remarks about the nature of his obvious nudity. Instead, he chose to remain fully clothed and got to work playing doctor. 

It’s hard to put into words and even harder for him to wrap his head around, but the events of last night–specifically the ones that took place in his living room–have seemed to cast Steve under an ineffable spell of Eddie’s own creation.

 It appears to be defined by the severe, unwavering need to obey Eddie’s every command under the aim of earning his praise and utmost pride. If the man asked him to jump, Steve would ask how high and proceed to launch himself further than humanly possible. 

Overnight, Eddie has gone from being his estranged acquaintance–whom he hadn’t really thought he’d ever see again–to someone whose opinion matters more than his own. 

All of this is to say that despite wanting it, Steve really doesn’t have any reason to believe Eddie is going to touch him anywhere other than where it’s logically necessary, until he starts talking again. 

Returning to a cyclical point that he just can’t seem to let go of, clinging to it like the end of a fraying rope. 

“Do you believe me yet?” Eddie smooths his hand over yet another bandaid, “Do you believe that I’m not like your parents? I’m never going to leave you just because you’re hurting. Pain’s only human Steve. Why would I ever blame you for experiencing it?” 

The questions are rhetorical. He makes this clear by silencing the response slowly forming in Steve’s mind with his touch. Trailing his ringed hands up to Steve’s bare hips and gently squeezing the soft flesh there. Eddie kneads it beneath his fingers, massaging generously. Ceaseless in his eye contact, he pointedly ignores that which Steve feels rather embarrassed by–his fast growing erection. 

Steve’s dick flags to immediate attention before he can even think to try and hide it. It’s honestly laughable how quickly his body reacts to the feeling of someone else’s hands on him–something that hasn’t happened in a longer amount of time than he’d like to verbally admit. Thankfully, Eddie’s not asking and doesn’t seem at all offended by how reactive his body is. Rather enticed—pupils swelling in enchanted awe and blissful wonder. 

“Stevie, I want to answer that silly little question of yours, alright? Will you let me do that, angel? Will you let me get you out of your head for a minute? I’ll go slow and you can stop me at any point. Taps always work great if you don’t feel like talking. You know that,” Eddie demonstrates this by flattening a palm and maneuvering it over the low part of Steve’s abdomen to tap rhythmically. 

It matches the asymmetrical beat of Steve’s heart–whirring and skipping all over the place. 

Eddie’s licking his lips as he lies in wait, as if preparing to sink sharp teeth into defenseless prey. The insinuation of his overt power oddly juxtaposes against his physical position. On his knees in what would usually be deemed submission, but gazing up at Steve with such intense fire and hunger that there’s no question about who’s really in control here. 

His comprehension of Eddie’s sheer ability to dominate and possess him gives Steve a rush of shivering, but pleasant cold to the head. Goosebumps rise to coat his skin. It’s the same effect he experiences when he slurps down a milkshake too fast. 

“Yes please, don’t wanna think anymore. Want you to teach me how to be good, Eds,” Steve sucks on his bottom lip and wriggles his hips in Eddie’s grip. Almost thrusting forwards, but realizing his dick would bump straight into Eddie’s nose and that feels kind of rude, so he holds himself back. 

It’s an indescribable craving–what he knows Eddie can give him. He feels like a junkie in need of a tantalizing fix. The drug’s perfectly in view, but just a hair too far away for him to grasp it. Even if it was close enough, he wouldn’t dare make a move until Eddie gave him the go ahead. Eddie knows what’s good for him. Eddie wouldn’t lead him astray. 

“Good, baby,” Eddie’s pet name sends Steve’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, “That’s right. I’d never hurt you, not in any way you didn’t want me to.”

His interest immediately peaks at the sound of that, though he’s not sure exactly what it means. The proposition of Eddie administering controlled pain to his body is strangely inviting. Questions lazily bob to the surface of his brain, but he’s not in the right mindset–at present–to run a proper interrogation. It’ll have to wait. 

“Alright, you’re going to start by telling me why your parents shouldn’t want to come see you? Why shouldn’t they fly home to see their perfect son, hm?” Eddie presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his knee and returns both hands to his hips to ground him. 

Perfect? He thinks I’m perfect? 

Steve’s cock constantly throbs against his stomach and it won’t take much more for him to start leaking slick down his fuzzy happy trail. 

“ ‘m not worth their time, ‘m not the type of son they wanted to have–don’t have a big fancy job or anything to offer them–nothing they’d like anyway,” Steve whimpers from a mixture of painful emotion and wanton desire, “My dad always tells me I’ve failed them. Always tells me they wouldn’t have had a kid if they knew he’d turn out like me.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Eddie says with strict finality, like he’ll accept no further argument on the topic, “Fuck that, Stevie. That’s not true.” 

Eddie kisses up to his waist–avoiding his weepy cock for the moment–and presses his hot mouth to the residual scars that an array of Upside Down monsters have left him with. His tongue flicks out to trace the edges of his gnarled skin, lapping at it like it’s sugar coated in ambrosia. 

Steve moans and this time, he can’t prevent his pelvis from bucking forward; rolling through a wave of blanketed pleasure. It softens and pacifies the abrasive noise ringing between his ears. 

“Fucking look at you, baby. How could they ever think you’re a failure? That’s a fucking bold faced lie, so obviously false,” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him, before continuing to make headway on his emboldened path through the labyrinth of Steve’s pain, “These pretty marks on your body show me how strong you are–how brave you’ve been for so many years with no one to take care of you, but yourself. That takes so much courage, Stevie. You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I’ve seen it–the way you defend everyone and jump into battle for them. You did it for me, didn’t you? Saved my fucking life with that bravery of yours. Wouldn’t have survived without you. Doesn’t sound like you’re much of a failure to me.” 

As much as Eddie makes it sound obvious, this perspective is fresh and nearly unbelievable for Steve.

 Sure, he’d fought and sure, he’d saved Eddie, but he wasn’t special because of it. Anyone would have jumped in to help a friend in those situations. Robin would have. Nancy would have. Dustin too. It didn’t mean he was worth any more than the rest of them. It didn’t mean he was better because of it. 

“I’m not special,” his voice breaks wide open like the daunting fracture of a fault line, “Saved you because you’re my friend. Any of them would have done it. I just happened to be the one to get there in time.” 

“You’re wrong, Stevie and I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself like that. I won’t allow it,” he reprimands. 

To deliver what might be considered punishment by a more stable individual, Eddie nips at his scars–little scrapes of teeth that make him openly moan at a volume that would be far too loud if they weren’t the only two home. It's heavenly as is, but Steve gluttonously yearns for more. Wishing Eddie would make good on his promise and fully bite down. Perhaps, draw a bit of blood. Take away the hurt and suck it from underneath his damaged skin. 

However, he doesn’t share these thoughts, because he doesn’t want to scare Eddie with how much he’s willing to submit. With how much he’s dying to hand himself over and give Eddie complete control. Steve knows that’s not normal. He knows it’s likely the result of whatever illness is rotting his brain and tarnishing his heart. It’s too much to ask of someone who still hardly knows them–even after playing the game of twenty questions. 

“Eddie. Fuck that feels good,” he settles for instead, “Need you, need more.” 

More doesn’t necessarily have to mean bite and bruise me until I can’t feel anything, but the imprint of your hands and teeth on my skin. It could mean anything at all. There’s nothing wrong with more. 

Sucking purple and red stains onto his waist with devoted lips, Eddie finally ghosts a hand over Steve’s throbbing cock and chuckles lowly at the way it twitches in desperation for him. 

“Needy, aren’t we? That’s okay, I happen to like needy boys. You’re in luck,” Eddie drips an intoxicating condescension from his tongue and Steve focuses for way too long on the enviable suggestion that he’s done this before, “I’m happy to give you more, baby. In fact, I’d love to. But, I’m afraid rules are rules and I can’t do that until you finish answering my question.” 

Steve bitchily stomps one of his bare feet against the tile and Eddie tsks at him, shaking his head back and forth. He nips again at Steve’s skin–this time biting a bit more meanly at his upper thigh. The faint imprint of his teeth is erased hastily by a sloppy kiss. A figure eight is traced by his tongue, connecting a series of pertinent moles that dot the tender flesh. Precum spurts onto his belly at the delectable feeling of Eddie’s godless mouth. Depravity leaks out of Steve in a relentless, milky white trickle and his counterpart just watches the show. Making no move to stop it or bring about release. 

“B-but I was good. I did answer your question, Eds. I already told you the truth about why they wouldn’t want to come see me. I promise I wasn’t lying, wouldn’t do that to you. Know you don’t like lying,” Steve whines, demoralized by Eddie’s refusal to further things along and let him cum. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie licks up a drop of pre that has rolled down Steve’s left leg, moaning at the taste and for the first time–Steve realizes that he’s hard in his jeans, a thick protrusion forming to the side of the taut zipper, “You gave me an answer, but you didn’t give me the right answer. I can taste how badly you want to cum, baby. So sweet and deprived. No one’s touched you like this in a while, have they?’ 

“N-no,” Steve shakes his head frantically, surprising himself with the confession and lack of embarrassment surrounding it, “No they haven’t. Haven’t been touched like this in over a year. Only by my own hands.” 

Eddie perks up at his disclosure of the truth. He moans deep in his throat and palms his dick through the black denim. Steve desperately wishes it was his hand, so curious about what it would be like to be the one to make him come undone. 

“You poor thing,” Eddie patronizes, rubbing himself again with a rougher hand and barely disguising the way he’s shakily breathing through it, “A body as perfect as yours should never be ignored. Not even for a second. There should be a line outside your door ready to worship you, baby. Pretty boys like you deserve to be touched and admired all the time, don’t you think?” 

“M-maybe, I don’t know,” Steve replies nervously. He’s not used to this brand of undivided attention, it’s a bit overstimulating and he keeps getting tongue tied under the tidal wave of brazen compliments. 

“You sure you don’t know or do you just need some encouragement? I don’t think you’re quite getting it yet, angel. Let me make this very clear, you’re not cumming until you answer me properly. I’m sorry to do it this way baby, but it’s my job to make you understand how perfect you are and I won’t stop until you believe it,” Eddie purrs and thrusts into his own hand, clothed cock grazing Steve’s shin and eliciting a high whine. 

Steve’s certain at this point that his body was made to respond to Eddie’s every beck and call. He’s been with plenty of girls, but there’s something about being with a boy–about being with this particular boy–that completely consumes him. A bomb could go off, the house could set fire, a lion could roar from right outside the door and Steve would remain entirely entranced by Eddie Munson. Running only when instructed to do so. 

It’s terrifying. 

It’s repulsive. 

It’s insane. 

He’s never wanted anything more. 

Apparently to Eddie, ‘encouragement’ means standing up so he’s eye to eye with Steve and licking a stripe up the side of his exposed neck. Persuasion is administered in pressing their bodies as closely together as possible–mirroring each other–and rutting his cock against Steve’s through an incredibly frustrating layer of clothing. 

The rugged friction hurts, causing Steve to wince and bite his inner cheek. There’s no soft silk or frilly lace like the stuff he’s used to sliding his fingers beneath when he hooks up with girls. There’s no delicate bows to untie or complicated clasps to undo. Floral patterns and pastel colors are replaced by ripped jeans, beat-up leather, and stinging metal. 

Eddie’s biting his earlobe unapologetically. He’s gripping Steve with reckless abandon, traversing every inch of skin–pinching wherever he pleases and teasing without an ounce of regret. He’s playful–endlessly so. He starts a game, changes the rules half-way through, and relishes Steve’s panting breaths. 

They kiss with tongue and teeth and stubble grating sensitive skin. Eddie knots his hands in Steve’s hair and pulls. When Steve reaches up to return the favor, to get his hands on him, Eddie takes both wrists in one firm fist and breaks their sloppy kiss to remind Steve of their agreement: 

“Not happening,” Eddie yanks hard on his hair, “You keep your hands to yourself. I didn’t tell you to touch me, did I?” 

For someone who relentlessly admonishes authority figures, Eddie is quite good at taking on the role himself. As if he’s internalized each run-in with the police and visit to the principal’s office; taking careful notes on how to demand obedience. Referencing them all now in his whipping tone. 

“No. No you didn’t tell me to. I’m sorry,” Steve pouts. 

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. Nothing to be sorry about. Just need you to remember that right now is about you–making you feel good. Do you want me to keep going or do you want us to stop here? You won’t upset me if you feel like it's too much,” Eddie leans his forehead against Steve’s as he whispers these words to him; pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Wanna keep going, don’t want you to stop,” Steve pleads. He likes the added pressure of Eddie’s hand around his wrists, like being restrained from giving into stupid decisions. 

“Then you know what I want to hear, don’t you angel? All you have to do is repeat after me, we’ll make it real nice and easy today. Can you do that?” Eddie kisses along his jaw and uses his free hand to trace shapes on Steve’s chest–tightly pinching his hardened nipples and tugging a bit meanly. 

“Yes,” Steve assures him, “I can.” 

“Good. Repeat after me,” Eddie says like he’s teaching Steve a grammar lesson on a blackboard, “I’m smart.” 

“I’m–um–I’m,” Steve’s hands tremble from where Eddie has them bound.

He dips his head to suck another bruise onto Steve’s collarbone–it will turn the color of a nightshade vegetable–burgundy as it fades, “Try again. Don’t be shy. I know you can do this. It’s just you and me. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

The pain brings Steve strength. It shouldn’t, but it does. It frees him from the fear of vulnerability and lets the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“I’m smart,” he says without pause. 

“Just like that, baby. That’s right. You are smart. You’re so smart and so good for me,” Eddie praises, releasing Steve’s wrists and dropping back down to his knees on the floor, “We’re gonna keep going. Let’s try another one. I’m kind.” 

“I’m kind,” Steve mimics without hesitation. This one is easier, comes out smoothly, because he agrees with it. He’s been told he’s kind by enough friends and acquaintances to believe it–evading the dooming cloud of his ‘King Steve’ era. 

“Music to my ears,” Eddie says, taking Steve’s shaft in his hand and pumping him with a steady pace, “You are kind, aren’t you? Such a kind boy–always putting everyone else first and helping out whenever someone needs a hand.” 

Steve snorts at the irony of Eddie quite literally being the one to ‘give him a hand’ as they speak. The laugh is short-lived and substituted by a groan of pleasure as Eddie speeds up. 

“Almost there. I’m so proud of you. Just need to hear a couple more and then we’ll make you cum. Gonna milk every last drop out of you, sound good?” Eddie coos. 

“Y-yeah, shit. Yeah, Eds. I wanna cum, wanna be good and cum for you,” Steve keens and reaches a hand up to tug at his own hair. 

Noticing this, Eddie says, “Oh, baby, if you need more stimulation–I’ll let you have a little. Touch your nipples for me, while we talk. Gonna make you feel so good. Tug on ‘em and tease yourself, I wanna watch you.” 

Obediently, Steve pinches  his pert nipples between two fingers. He rolls the bud and sighs as they stiffen beneath his touch. He hasn’t spent a lot of time getting to know this part of his body in the past or using it to his advantage to get himself off. He always thought it was something that girls liked and that it wasn’t worth trying on himself as a guy. 

Boy, was I wrong. 

“God, you look fucking beautiful like that, Stevie. You have no idea–no idea the things I want to do to you,” Eddie observes him with rapt attention, slowing the movement of his fist on Steve’s length, “One last sentence for me and then I’m gonna suck you off. I’m loved–say it for me, baby.” 

It goes against every fiber of his being–to believe himself worth loving. Vomiting up his breakfast, sobbing into the carpet, pushing away every last person who cared about him–it’s all because Steve isn’t loveable. He’s not worth the time and effort. He’s a burden–this is his undeniable truth–and no one should have to endure the weight of his agony on their shoulders. It’s just not worth it. 

“I’m loved,” Eddie coaxes and tears have begun rolling their way down Steve’s ruddy cheeks without his permission, “I’m loved. I’m loved. I’m loved.” 

It’s a simple sentence–short in length and uncomplicated in rhythm–but Steve feels like there’s a padlock on his heart and until he finds the right key to open it, those words aren’t going to come out. Forbidden. 

“I–I’m–I can’t,” Steve sobs out, “Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I–I can’t say that. I’m not–I’m not ready–” 

A pair of warm arms are thrown around his shoulders and it takes a second for him to realize they aren’t his own–they’re Eddies’. 

Eddie who is kissing his face and petting his hair. 

Eddie who is stroking the scars on his waist and rubbing out a knot in his shoulder. 

Eddie who traces his collarbones with his tongue and draws shapes across his chest. 

Eddie who whispers devotional words in his red-tipped ears: 

“I’m here, I’m here.” 

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m going to make it better. Whatever you need, whenever you’re ready.” 

Steve lifts his head from where it has fallen onto Eddie’s shoulder–-collapsed like the fall of a great empire; unable to hold it together for a moment more. 

“Touch me, Eds,” Steve instructs, “Take it away and touch me. Make all the bad go away. Please.” 

“Okay. Okay, I can do that. Are you sure that’s what you want right now? You don’t want to go back to bed and cuddle or watch a movie downstairs,” Eddie offers, refusing to risk overstepping the line and pushing Steve past his limits. 

“Need it, Eds. Need you. ‘s the only thing that makes it better,” Steve cries, trembling all over. 

“I’ll give it to you, baby. Of course. I’ll do whatever I can,” Eddie promises, cupping Steve’s face in his hands and licking up the salty tears that puddle between them. No one’s ever done that to him before,“You’re so pretty, even when you cry. You know that?” 

Steve’s tears dampen Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie’s kisses leave saliva on the corners of Steve’s mouth. It’s impossible to tell what belongs to who anymore–which portions of the mess should be labeled with which name. 

All they know is that they’re here together–in the mess, in the dirt, treading water in the thick of it. Clinging to aching bones and weary eyes and finding rare shreds of peace, shreds of home in each other. 

On his knees, Eddie kitten licks at the sensitive head of Steve’s cock. He’s still hard in his jeans, but pays no attention to the blaring call of his own pleasure. He doesn’t care–he’s here to heal Steve. He’s here to make it better–to lick up the pain and the gore and the hurt and gift him with a blank canvas in the end. 

Something they can create together. 

Something raw and real and unrepentant. 

Something whole. 

Steve tosses his head back and returns to working at his nipples–touching and moaning and aching for more. Eddie gives and gives below him–never taking his lidded eyes off of Steve. 

“Ah, fuck. Eddie, Eddie,” Steve whimpers the five letters as the boy on his bathroom floor sucks him deeper into his willing mouth, “Eddie, please. Need more. Need more. Don’t stop.” 

He’s hardly making sense, but like all else, Eddie understands him without much explanation. Filling in the gaps and taking it in stride. Meeting him halfway. He’s unaffected by the fragmentation of Steve’s speech; only proving his dedication by taking him to the hilt and hollowing out his pinkened cheeks. Writing the stanzas of every famous love poem with the skilled tip of his tongue. 

Ten seconds pass without a single gag and Eddie reclaims his ability to demolish Steve with words alone, as he pulls off of him. Keeping his hand in place to spread slick and spit over the head. Licking at a bead of pre and using a brutal thumb to prod at the slit. 

“Taste so sweet, baby. My perfect boy, of course you do. Gonna make you cum down my throat. Gonna drink up every last drop,” Eddie jerks him at a punishing pace, “You ever had a boy suck you off before, Stevie?” 

He shakes his head and twitches from head to toe, as Eddie sucks his balls into his warm mouth. It’s slippery and gentle and Eddie expertly laves his tongue over the smooth skin. 

“I’m your first? Wow. Guess that kinda makes you a virgin then, Harrington. Never would have dreamed I’d be the first guy to let you cum down his throat. You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Eddie moans and sucks Steve back into his mouth. 

He bobs his head faster and faster, twisting and licking and drooling out of the corners of his plush lips. Steve moans uncontrollably above him, not caring about how loud he gets—almost entirely unaware of the noise, because he’s lost at sea in the electrifying feel of Eddie’s perfect mouth. 

“Gonna cum soon,” Steve warns, because it’s the polite thing to do, “Gonna cum, Eds. Feels too good, can’t last any longer.” 

The warning doesn’t deter him—Eddie fucks his wide open mouth onto Steve, pinning his hips harshly against the counter so he can’t move an inch. Steve grips onto Eddie’s shoulders—though he’s technically not supposed to—and holds on for dear life as his orgasm nears. Warmth spreads through his belly. 

Within moments he’s shooting off into the back of Eddie’s throat and– of course –the bastard is fucking smiling through it. Well, as much as he can with a very full mouth. Dimples surface and the edges of white teeth shine through the cracks. His eyes roll back and a moan vibrates around Steve’s cock, as Eddie suckles on the tip—swallowing all of his cum. 

Every. Last. Drop. 

Just like he promised. 

[strawberryanqel]

| 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩!

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Hi lovely readers! Below is a list of fluff prompts that you can request. Just send me a number + a character I write for, and I'll whip up a sweet drabble for you. Feel free to request platonic or romantic versions. Let's spread some love ! 💕

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"God, I love you."

"You're my favorite person."

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"You make everything better."

"I can't stop smiling when I'm with you."

"You're my sunshine on a cloudy day."

"Your laugh is my favorite sound."

"Let's make a blanket fort and watch movies."

"I saved you the last piece."

"You give the best hugs."

"Being with you feels like home."

"You always know how to cheer me up."

"I brought you your favorite coffee."

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly."

"I made you breakfast in bed."

"You're my happy place."

"Can I hold your hand?"

"You're the reason I believe in love."

"I wrote you a love letter."

"You make me feel so special."

"I love your smile."

"I missed you today."

"Let's dance in the kitchen."

"You mean the world to me."

"You're my dream come true."

"I love the way you look at me."

"You make my heart skip a beat."

"You're my best friend."

"I cherish every moment with you."

"Thank you for being you."

Feel free to request any of these prompts with the character of your choice! Whether it’s a sweet moment between friends or a romantic scene, I’m excited to write it for you. 💖

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we can also discuss things you think your favorite characters might do! im open to anything (please check rules and regulations first! i say that with a grain of salt) please send me reqs, i also accepts anons on here just say which one you want to be! love you lots!

[blythings]

coriolanus x oc x lucy gray as the folklore love triangle

[destiny-in-the-universe]

someone please give me an rc9gn ship and i’ll either write a little ficlet for it, do headcanons, or just- i am struggling with ideas; still sort of feel completely wonk about everything, and i just want something to focus on and bc this is the current never-ending interest i’m just frothing at the mouth

also literally just give me an rc9gn character i can muse, a prompt (can be short!), and i will make something. pls- i’m so desperate (and my recent posts aren’t getting as many views? i know people are busy- i get that, but i also?? want some interaction-)

it doesn’t have to be angsty even though that’s apparently my main content lately, but! seriously-

Either this: ship / prompt (song/theme/literally a couple words/etc) / canon or au

or

character/muse / prompt (song/theme/etc) / canon or au

also let me know if you want ficlet or yk- ✨ headcanons ✨ or what, help me

[kakashiislut]

“Okay, now Alejandro and Rudy are coming, they are also bringing some of their men for work. Do you remember everything we talked about, Y/N”

“Yes sir Captain sir” you gave price a salute.

“Y/N” he speaks sternly and you grin at him.

-

“Ahh, Hermano’s, Ive missed you guys” Vargas walks in with his signature walk “and who’s this?” His eyes settle on you.

Walking up to him, you get on one knee “I, Y/N Y/L/N, ask you, Alejandro Vargas, TO PLEASE MARRY ME-“

*gets snatched up by price*