[fic post] request fills!
author: 
fonulyn
This is a post with very varied pairings and fandoms and ratings so pay close attention to the information okay? :D They’re a mess. I jump from fandom to fandom. Also first time writing SHINee don’t kill me please ;~; And enjoyy~
call me… anytime
Minho/Key | PG | 379 words | Kim Kibum is like the most common name in the whole of Korea. But a name doesn’t make a man.
for myself (and for songofcolour ♥) since… well yes. no explanation ok they’re just addictive and I wanted to try.
"There are a million Kim Kibums!" Kibum sighs exaggeratedly and even places the back of his hand on his forehead to feign distress. "And I'm not talking about the whole of Korea but the entertainment industry alone!"
"Kibum is a nice name?" Minho ventures, but it's too much a question, too little a statement. He doesn't know Kibum well enough yet, crossing invisible lines unintentionally. With Kibum - that much he has learned - crossing lines is easy but forgiveness comes even easier. After a snappy comment or a minor temper tantrum.
This time, Kibum only groans. "Why couldn't my parents name me something extravagant? Something unique and expressive!"
Minho has no answer to that. "What would you like to be called?" He tries again and judging by the enthusiastic glimmer that lightens up in Kibum's eyes he is doing marginally better.
"I don't know!" Kibum exclaims but it sounds almost dreamy, like he thinks about it every night before he falls asleep. "I would make something up, you know. But if I just come up with a name it might mean, I don't know, a lamp post in some language. That'd be embarrassing."
"Kibum could mean a lamp post in some language," Minho points out. He already knows what he will get - a murderous, appalled glare and probably some expertly chosen curses - but somehow he can't hold himself back. He never can. These six days with Kibum have been exactly like this, him knowing what he says will set Kibum off but still unable to hold it back.
But before he even knows what is happening, Kibum is laughing. Minho cracks a smile, a stray chuckle spilling from his lips without his permission.
"You know," Kibum grins as he leans closer, conspiratorially. The way he places his palms on Minho's thighs should be illegal and as comfortable as Minho is with friends touching each other - well, they've just met less than a week ago, and when most of his friends lean into his personal space his heart doesn't make stupid flips in his chest.
None of it matters though. Not when Kibum's lips are only inches away from his own, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "I quite like you, Choi Minho. I quite like you."
about time
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi | rating | 516 words | They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this.
for 16littleseconds! I hope you don’t mind that I made them older :) I think I’ll write another one of those prompts you left me, too, but for now have this! (I wrote this and then we had a blackout and of course it hadn’t saved so… this is like attempt number two)
It’s Kyuhyun’s thirty-sixth birthday when he realizes something he should’ve known already sixteen years before. It’s somewhat momentous when he blows out the candles - Henry insisted on including exactly thirty-six of them (“I know it’ll make you feel old, hyung.”) and Kyuhyun thinks it’s kind of mean. He doesn’t feel old, but he feels kind of stupid instead.
Almost everyone is there, including thirteen of his group mates and over twenty label mates and other co-workers from past years. And throughout the gigantic party, raucous laughter and animated chatting, all he can think of is geez it’s so nice to see Zhou Mi again. While the last time he saw Zhou Mi was actually less than twenty-four hours ago.
Shouldn’t it be a lot more impactful to see, like, Sungmin who he hasn’t seen in over a year? It’s not that he isn’t happy to see him, too, but it’s nothing in comparison.
The rest of his birthday party Kyuhyun spends sulking in a corner. Until Sungmin (who else) suddenly is right there and kicks him rather non-gently. “Scoot over.” He demands and Kyuhyun does, so that Sungmin can sit right next to him on the floor between the piano and the glass door to the balcony. “Now, tell me. What’s eating you up.” They haven’t seen in a year but it doesn’t mean they don’t still know one another through and through.
“Well,” Kyuhyun sighs. “I think that something finally clicked in my brain, you know.” He came out to Sungmin already years ago so it’s not any new information on that front, but the actual object of his affection..? That might be a different story. Sungmin waits patiently, though, until Kyuhyun looks up at him and goes on. “If I ask Zhou Mi to go out with me, do you think he’ll say yes?”
Sungmin looks like someone just dropped a bomb. Kyuhyun already prepares for taking the words back, but he’s interrupted by Sungmin. “You mean you haven’t asked him already?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Kyuhyun growls and aims a weak punch at Sungmin’s shoulder. Sungmin laughs.
When it’s Kyuhyun’s thirty-seventh birthday, everything feels so much different. There are the same guests, again, exactly thirty-seven candles on the cake, again. This time, when he blows out the candles there is a warm hand against the small of his back though, as if reminding him of everything he has gained throughout the last 365 days.
Turned out, Zhou Mi did very much like to go out with Kyuhyun and they grabbed dinner together the first chance they got. It was all somewhat awkward at first. The attraction had been there for years, for over a decade, and they were used to not acting on it. Well, not acting on it more than what was acceptable in public.
Once they work past that, it feels like things have always been like this. Like they’re an old married couple, as much as Kyuhyun grimaces at the wording.
This time, when he blows out the candles, he doesn’t make a wish. He already has what he wants.
like the sea, mine to conquer
Kaoru/Shinya | PG | 441 words | There aren’t many things Kaoru would choose over the sea.
for melinen, who wanted Kaoru/Shinya as pirates! I have to say this is kind of inspired by another fic (never posted) that mentioned Shinya as a bartender and Kaoru as a salesman of weaponry living in the backroom. they had quite a delicious kind of twisted domestic relationship, haha.
Roaring laughter reaches Kaoru’s ears as he steps over the threshold and into the dimly lit bar. He knows the place like the back of his own hand, unfazed by wrestle match that has apparently turned out to be a full-blown bar fight mere minutes prior. Expertly he dodges swinging fists and misplaced kicks, grabs his hat when some drunken, dirty man nearly sweeps it off his head.
All without batting an eyelash.
Once he gets to the counter he leans against it, despite the way his sleeve soaks up the spilled beer, turning damp within seconds. He doesn’t need to wait long and there’s a man in front of him, with messy blond hair and eyes so dark they seem almost black in this light. Kaoru knows better. He has studied the lights and reflections of those eyes numerous times.
“So how about it, Shinya,” Kaoru’s voice is gravelly and low, rough from the lack of use and still audible enough. For a second the man - Shinya - only considers him, before cracking a hint of a smile. It’s barely a lift of his lips in the corners, but it’s enough. It’s there.
A mug of beer is slammed in front of him before he even notices and he reaches for it, automatically. But when his fingers wrap around the mug, Shinya’s hand is still there, now between his palm and the ceramic. “Are you sure you’re ready to retire, cap’n.”
There is a challenge in Shinya’s words. Are you ready to retire? To leave sailing the seven seas, to permanently chain yourself to a building on land, to live in the same place instead of the thrill of travelling. Although, he supposes there could be a lot duller places to live in than this island, this bar.
Kaoru takes the challenge, the grip of his hand tightening. “How shall we seal the deal?”
Hours later Kaoru is counting the cracks on the ceiling, the covers itching on bare skin. There’s warm breath on his neck and an arm slung around his shoulder, and he can’t say he’d object to any of that on a regular basis. He knows it won’t be easy. He has been living on the sea ever since he turned six, and taking up the business of handling smuggled weaponry, as thrilling as it can be, isn’t even near the same.
Still, he doesn’t doubt his decision. Starting tomorrow, he will set up the backroom of the bar as his headquarters. Knowing that right there, on the other side of the thick wooden wall, Shinya handles the bar as he always does.
It doesn’t sound too bad.
cirque bakery
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi, Ryeowook, Yesung | PG | 560 words | Things don’t exactly work like in the regular bakeries.
for yukichi_1004, who wanted Qmi pastry chefs! they… don’t do much baking in this but they own a bakery 8D and Ryeowook and Yesung work for them! \o/
“You should know,” Ryeowook drawls as if he isn’t completely certain how to say it, but in the end he ends up blurting the words out anyway. No sugar coating, even though they are currently at a bakery and heading to the kitchen. “The bosses can drive you crazy here. Don’t tell me I never warned you.”
Yesung arches an eyebrow at that, quickening his steps to keep up with this man who walks a lot faster than him, even if he seems so small and fragile. “Are they nitpickers? Or just overall nasty?” He asks curiously, trying to think if he saw anything weird at the job interview. All he remembers is a tall, thin man, large nose and a smile that seemed way too wide for that narrow face. Friendly, as well, the man had been nothing short of sweet even in his attempts to be professional.
“No,” Ryeowook is drawling again and Yesung has to stop himself from commenting on that. He bites on his tongue and lets his new co-worker go on. “You’ll see. We’re here anyway.”
He swings the door open and the first thing Yesung does is stare.
There are two men, currently engaged in a loud food-war as they keep sprinkling each other with flour - or is that powdered sugar? - and running around the table in the middle of the room. One of them he recognizes as his new boss, figuring the second one has to be the business partner mentioned before. The genius who took care of everything else but actual baking.
Yesung turns to Ryeowook and catches a suffering look in his eyes. “They should calm down soon. They always do.”
In fact, they do, and a moment later Yesung is shaking hands with the tall man - Zhou Mi, he reminds himself - who actually hired him for the job. There is something sticky between their palms but he writes it off as some kind of dough, judging by the structure. “We are really glad you could join us! We’ve been needing a new helper around for… well, forever. Ryeowook is the one in charge of the pastries themselves, I am in charge of the decoration, and Kyuhyun here is in charge of the nerdy stuff.”
“You call my work nerdy one more time and I will drown you in the barrel of apple marmalade,” Kyuhyun shoots a dark glare at Zhou Mi, who just smiles even wider and nudges the aforementioned with his elbow. It turns out to be a full elbow-war in mere seconds and Yesung has to wait again before he gets to greet his other boss more or less formally.
All in all, he has a feeling he will like it here. Ryeowook shows him the infamous recipe of his lemon-cinnamon cakes and guides him through every step like a perfect kindergarten teacher. Kyuhyun spends more time in the kitchen than in his actual office, usually poking his head over Zhou Mi’s shoulder to see what he’s doing, to best bother him. Sometimes the two giggle over some joke only they understand, sometimes they end up smearing the almost ready cupcakes all over each other’s faces.
Then, Ryeowook will just sigh, a smile tugging his lips. “This, this is why we end up making twice as many goods as we actually ever sell.”
It’s easy to see why.
santa u are the one
Han Geng/Heechul | R/NC17 | 699 words | Heechul thinks that Han Geng makes a pretty good bad Santa.
for daidetre, who wanted hanchul smut (surprise!) and so Geng gets to be the Santa \o/
It’s Christmas night and everyone’s asleep. Well, nearly everyone. In the silence of the dark room, one can just barely make out the soft sounds of footsteps when Heechul pads across the floor. There is no other light but the electric candles on the quite impressive Christmas tree they managed to drag into the dorms and situate in the corner, even though it lost some branches to the elevator ride.
Heechul’s eyes are not on the Christmas tree though, neither on the creative way it’s been decorated, or the mistletoes hung all over the ceiling. He only has eyes for the man lounging in the huge armchair next to the tree, obviously waiting for him. The man clad in red and white, a huge fluffy beard covering the grin Heechul knows is there.
Santa Claus.
Or, at least, Heechul’s own private Santa. Swiftly, Heechul approaches him, his voice low as he speaks. “Finally, everyone passed out. Now don’t you dare wake them up or I’ll skin you alive, understand?” He is grinning though as he straddles the man’s lap, leaning in to bring their faces closer together. In one tug the beard is pulled down and their mouths latched together, the kiss deep and passionate right away. They’ve had enough time to anticipate this by now.
It isn’t until Heechul feels long fingers slip into his pyjama pants that he pulls back, a grin dancing on his kiss bruised lips, his eyes dark from sheer lust. “Now, Santa,” he drawls, his voice surprisingly low and rough, and licks his lips. “Have I been a good boy?”
The only response he gains is a low chuckle from the man dressed as Santa, the strong arms tightening around him as he’s pulled closer. “Have you ever?” Han Geng asks, nipping on Heechul’s ear lightly. He yanks Heechul down again, makes him grind against his erection, and Heechul doesn’t even try to struggle, instead arching his back to gain more of it.
“Let me make it up to you, then,” Heechul offers and there is no mistaking what he means by that. His pyjama pants are easily removed and tossed aside, while it’s a lot more difficult to actually peel Han Geng’s pants down far enough. The gigantic belt buckle already tries to stop them, but once it’s out of the way the rest goes considerably more smoothly. Han Geng breaks out the lube from his pocket and gives Heechul a wink, telling him there is one more special present for him.
When Heechul is finally working himself down on Han Geng’s lap he thinks he knows exactly what that present is. He clings on to the other man’s shoulders as he leans back, changes the angle until each single movement down has him shuddering. He barely notices when he starts moaning, the breathy sounds spilling from his lips on their own.
Han Geng’s hands are strong on his hips, guiding his movements, especially when he begins to meet the movements halfway. It must be hot as fuck in that Santa costume by now, especially judging by the droplets of sweat beading on Han Geng’s forehead, but it’s not like either of them wants to stop to get it off. They need to get off, first.
Which, thankfully, happens only mere minutes later. Han Geng’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of Heechul’s thighs as he yanks him down against him, slamming his hips up to bury himself in that willing body to the hilt. Neither of them knows who is the one thrown over the edge first but it doesn’t matter, not when they push each other even further beyond their limits.
When it’s finally over, Heechul nearly collapses against the other man, chest heaving. “So,” Heechul gasps, leaning his forehead against Han Geng’s. The beard kind of tickles but he doesn’t really mind, not enough to move to get it out of the way. “Does this mean I was good or bad?”
The next morning, Heechul walks into the kitchen to find a whole bunch of his friends grinning at him. No one says anything, not before Donghae chirps up happily, singing. “Last night, I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus!”
surprise party
Super Junior & Dir en grey, no pairings | PG13 | 758 words | The invitation said “leather and bondage costume party” right?
for wildmetal_chick, who wanted SJ/Diru crack! I’m so bad at this, I hope it’s at least halfway decent ;___;
“Just for the record,” Kaoru sounds as grumpy as he looks, a deep frown on his features as he is trying to hide behind his messy, dirty curls. “I feel like an idiot.” It doesn’t help that they’re currently in an apartment complex, standing before a door to get to a party they’ve been invited. Kaoru knew, he knew, that taking the invitation from those weird Koreans Die had developed such a crush on would never lead to anything good.
“Well,” Die smiles at him and reaches to pat his shoulder, obviously not surprised at all by the complaints. “For the record, you look like an idiot, too.” He supplies helpfully, even though he doesn’t look much better himself.
None of them do, actually. Even now, at the age of thirty-three, Shinya manages to look like a girl (if one ignores the shadow on his upper lip, he just didn’t have the time to shave) with his wavy hair and the PVC miniskirt he’s wearing. Wait, what? Yes, that’s right. A PVC miniskirt and a matching studded collar, a laced corsage around his torso. He even managed to find the long gloves he had over ten years ago.
Still, he seems to be the one most comfortable with the situation, as he kicks the grumbling Kaoru forward. “Ring the doorbell. C’mon, the sooner we’re inside the sooner this will be over.” Kaoru, tugging on his tight leather pants that are quite a bit too tight on the crotch, rings the bell as instructed, even if he doesn’t look too happy about it. Kyo catches the movement of his other hand and gives him a pointed look. “Kaoru, you should cut down on the junk food. You don’t fit your pants anymore.”
“Shut it,” Kaoru snaps, “these are Die’s pants and how the hell am I going to fit into them when they’re skin tight on that scrawny ass!?”
“My ass is not scrawny,” Die denies, frowning. Toshiya wraps an arm around his waist. “No. You don’t have one to begin with.”
They are saved from Die’s comeback though, since the next second the door opens wide and they’re welcomed inside. Except that Siwon, who was the unfortunate person to volunteer to let them in, looks like he has seen a ghost. Or a train wreck. Or both. His eyes are comically wide and he should probably pick up his jaw from the floor unless he wants to look forever like the Scream mask.
“Who is it, Wonnie?” Sounds from behind and suddenly there’s a lithe arm wrapped around Siwon’s shoulders from the back, a familiar looking face peeking over his shoulder. Heechul’s expression brightens up immediately, his eyes sparkling gleefully. “Oh it’s you! Come on in! I see you got my invitation.”
Baffled, they do step inside, but that only turns the situation tenfold more awkward. Everyone is dressed casual, typically jeans and a t shirt, and no one - except for the Japanese guests - have anything out of the ordinary on them. Well, unless one counts the purple boa Heechul is wearing and the awful Hawaiian print on Zhou Mi’s shirt. Nothing to this extent though.
“Didn’t you say,” Kaoru drawls as he leans closer to Die, who in turn clutches Toshiya’s arm to stay upright. “That this was a theme party. And that the theme was -” He doesn’t need to finish, as Die nods slowly. Their invitation indeed said just that, a party with the theme of bdsm style, leather and PVC, studs and spikes and if you have a whip please bring it too.
It’s silent, until Heechul bursts out laughing, clinging on to Siwon’s shoulders not to fall on the floor. “Oh my god.” He gains a disapproving glance from Siwon but ignores it completely. “This is even more hilarious than I thought! I see you got the invitations I personally modified for you.” He cackles.
And he isn’t the only one. Some people are politely holding back their smiles or hiding them behind their hands, while others are laughing out loud or damn near rolling on the floor from the force of it. This, Kaoru thinks, has got to be the most embarrassing situation he has ever gotten himself into, in his whole life. And those damn bastards are all laughing at him! Them, whatever. Him.
Surprisingly (?) it’s Kyo who breaks the awkward silence on their part, pushing past his bandmates. “Now where the hell is the banquet. I am starving.”
Oh well. This would turn out to be an interesting evening.
serve me I’m sick
Eunhyuk/Heechul | PG | 405 words | This is nothing Eunhyuk wouldn’t already be used to.
for seinen_no, who wanted Heechul being sick and Eunhyuk dealing with him somehow x) …and somehow my Hyukkie turned out mute, haha
“How dare you bring me black tea when I specifically asked for green!?” The screech from one of the bedrooms is loud enough to carry through the whole apartment, startling its inhabitants. It’s also the signal for all the remaining people inside to grab their stuff and run, unless they want to get caught in the crossfire. No one does. When Heechul is sick, it’s best to just clear off and come back later - preferably with presents - to see if the situation has cooled off finally.
There is one brave person who does not flee, though. Donghae is the last to leave and he leans in to stage-whisper to his friend from the doorway. “Are you sure you’re not coming? You do know he’s going to kill you?” He only receives a short headshake and a small smile from Eunhyuk though, and he shrugs before the door slams shut after him.
Now that it’s silent, Eunhyuk pads into the kitchen, going through the cabinets carefully. Green tea, not in tea bags, never, steeped for three minutes in water that is just the right temperature (70°-75° and yes, he does have a thermometer). He sets the tray neatly, places a slice of lemon and some sugar cubes on the side, since he knows Heechul doesn’t always want them but it’s best to be prepared.
Once he’s done he picks up the tray and moves carefully into the bedroom. Heechul is sitting on the bed, looking thoroughly displeased as he blows his nose and sniffles a little into the tissue. He is wrapped in four blankets, looking surprisingly tiny underneath the layers. “What do you want?” He snarls as soon as he spots Eunhyuk in the doorway.
Eunhyuk just smiles, approaching until he can carefully set the tray down in front of Heechul on the mattress. Even more carefully he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, looking at the other man expectantly. Heechul frowns at him for a few seconds before reaching for the tea. He cradles the mug between his palms, and grudgingly he has to admit that it does relax him and make him feel better, a little.
Neither of them says anything for the longest while, Heechul simply focusing on his tea and Eunhyuk keeping him company. And that’s alright. That’s actually quite perfect. After the tea is gone Heechul is considerably more relaxed, even offers a soft smile.
Thank you.
in another world you could be mine
Minho/Key | PG | 164 words | Some things are never meant to be?
I wanted it to be happy but it sounds kind of angsty, doesn’t it :(
There are touches. There have always been touches, even if nothing like the blatant fanservice and exaggerated gestures he shares with Jonghyun, but there have been touches nevertheless. It's nothing new, and that is exactly why Key doesn't know why it gets him so worked up. Why now, all of a sudden?
If he'd think about it a bit longer, or from a less subjective standpoint, he would realize it isn't sudden. At all. Things have taken time to build up and one morning he simply blinks and opens his eyes and there it is, right in front of him.
It's like Key's world tilts a little off axis.
He isn't almighty for nothing. Even if these recently noticed sensations send a shiver up his spine every time Minho's hand touches his, even if it prickles on his skin and makes his fingers linger a little more than strictly necessary.
It's not like it means anything. It's not allowed to, not now. Maybe never.
can’t take my eyes off you
Minho/Key | PG | 697 words | All those body waves and hip thrusts did not belong to the choreography, now did they?
for songofcolour! :D now go request more minkey so I get to write it XD she wanted dance practice and distractions and I had tons of fun with this prompt you wouldn’t even believe~
Practicing the choreography to their upcoming single release is nothing new to them. The fact that Taemin learns the steps in high speed and Key follows only a little behind is nothing new, either, nor is the fact the others need to struggle a lot more on average to keep the act together.
What is new, though, is how unfocused Minho is. Usually he pulls through with sheer determination, his competitive nature enough to flare up the stubbornness to make him push his limits until he perfects the act like everyone else. Ever since their debut and the first immensely frustrating dance practices he hasn’t managed to step on Jonghyun’s feet in the midst of them switching places, or actually walk face first against the wall.
Minho wishes he’d be joking about that last part but no. It happened.
The reason to his troubles is clear. He blames it all on Key. Hell, he could swear Key keeps adding several unnecessary body rolls and hip thrusts into the choreography whenever he can. It’s not like a simple step-step-sidestep needs to be underlined by a swish of Key’s hair or a cocked hip.
Dancing with a hard-on proves to be surprisingly difficult, and Minho curses the fact that his sweatpants don’t do much to hide his problem. Day by day, he dresses himself into baggier and baggier pants, hoping to at least distract others of his condition, even if he can’t gain control of himself. He also curses the hectic preparations and their schedules. It would get anyone on the edge, not having a single moment to vent frustrations in more than a week.
The last straw comes in form of an extra practice that pushes them to their limits. The lunch break can’t come soon enough and as soon as it’s announced everyone files out of the room in record speed. Except Key, who is held back by a gentle hand on his wrist. He simply looks at Minho for a second before waving the others off with a we’ll follow you later.
As soon as they’re alone Minho corners Key, pushes him backwards until a table comes in the way. His large palms slide easily on Key’s waist, his thumb brushing underneath the loose shirt, inching it upwards just barely. Key’s eyes are curious but he doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything as his waist is suddenly gripped tighter and he is lifted on the tabletop.
Instinctively, Key’s hands find Minho’s biceps, his fingers curling loosely. With one slow step, Minho situates himself between Key’s thighs. “Do you have any idea,” he begins lowly, his voice rumbling from his chest. “how much you frustrate me.” He knows his eyes are dark, like a challenge, but he doesn’t even blink, not when Key meets his gaze head on.
“Oh,” Key smirks, understanding dawning on his face as his expression smoothes into quite a wicked one. “I hoped I was turning you on.” He admits directly, giving Minho’s arms a small squeeze.
Minho kisses him hard. He cups a hand in the back of Key’s skull and pulls him closer, nips on his lower lip before having it all, claiming what he feels is rightfully his. Key doesn’t resist.
They pull apart a moment later, breaths ragged, and Key drops his head on Minho’s shoulder to inhale his scent, musk mixed with a sheen of sweat. Perhaps not the most flattering combination in everyday life, but even more tempting to the carnal side deep within.
“Besides,” Key’s breath is warm on Minho’s skin, his lips pressed against his jaw in a chaste kiss. “You were begging for it when you chose to wear these.” While Key speaks he slips his hands lower, shamelessly inching his fingers under the waistband of Minho’s sweats. The tightest pair he owns, thanks to his baggy-pants-plan that has ensured all the others are dirty now.
The words make Minho grin and he hides it in Key’s hair. “Were you staring, too?”
Key huffs. “Of course not. Don’t get big headed.” The way he slides his hands lower speaks a whole other story, though, and Minho doesn’t even try to hold back his laugh.
closest
Minho/Key | PG | 460 words | When they met, all those years ago, neither of them thought they’d grow to be this close.
for me (yes every time I finish a request for someone else I write one for myself) and idk where it came from but I like it 8D
The streetlights flash inside of the car, reflecting from the big raindrops patterning the tinted glass. It’s been a long day and no one has the energy to actually say anything, much less to move an inch as they sit like rooted on their spots, dozing in and out of consciousness. Somehow Key has managed to claim the backseat of the van, forcibly kicking the others to the front seats. All except for Minho. “You,” he said earlier, tugging on Minho’s wrist to gain his attention. “You’re a comfortable pillow.”
Now, Minho is serving his duty as a pillow, half-leaning against the window as he makes himself as comfortable as possible. Key’s head is resting on his lap as he’s stretched over the other two seats, curled up like he wants to sleep right then and there. Which, admittedly, he probably does. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, and Minho smiles slightly to himself as he places his palm on Key’s shoulder.
The interview from before flashes through his mind and he taps Key’s cheek with his middle finger, gaining his attention when sleepy eyes blink up at him. “Closest thing to a best friend, huh?” He asks, dropping his voice so low it’s only audible to the two of them.
Key obviously resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead shifting on his back so he can look up without craning his neck. “My mother always told me that the secret to a lasting marriage is to be your spouse's best friend.” He answers, the words slow and nearly hesitant, as if he has to fight sleep to get each of them out.
That is kind of adorable, but Minho isn’t certain if he makes much sense out of the sentence. “Are you proposing to me?” He teases, his hand migrating from Key’s shoulder to his chest in a half-hug.
“Shut up,” Key growls and closes his eyes again. He turns his head until his nose is buried in Minho’s shirt, face against his stomach, which nearly muffles the rest of his words. “Of course not.”
The silence drags on so long that Minho is already sure Key fell asleep. There’s a slight movement though, in the way he shifts even closer, until he’s practically lying across Minho’s lap. It might be a spur of a moment decision, at least he doesn’t really think about it, not before he leans down until his lips brush against Key’s cheek.
“Yes.”
Key can hardly control the burst of laughter, not even when he digs his face into Minho’s stomach again. Over the backrest in front of them, Jonghyun gives a disapproving frown for being waken up, but all Minho can do is smile goofily at him.
unravel me
Minho/Key | NC17 | 541 words | Sweaty, gross and stained or not, this is when they feel all the pieces click together and complete the puzzle.
for me again nnnnh no comment
It is dark. Lights off, curtains drawn. Unable to see anything more than shades and shapes, Minho focuses on Kibum's breath that is hot against his neck, coming in short, harsh pants. It's a moment he needs, a moment they both need, when the stretch is almost too much to bear and makes Kibum focus on the intensity of it all. He is straddling Minho's hips, his thighs securely on each side of him, as he rocks his hips in slow circular movements. It's the most he can do without coming undone all too soon.
"Kiss me," he demands as he tilts his head, brings his lips so close they brush against Minho's. It's all he has to say for his wish to be granted, long fingers threading into his short hair to tug on it, to yank him closer until their teeth nearly clash together. It's sloppy, messy, lacking all finesse and under any other circumstances it would have been reason enough to break it completely.
But now, Kibum only pants into Minho's open mouth, breathes out obscenities as he gives another delicious roll of his hips and Minho retaliates by snapping his pelvis up, buries himself in even deeper. In turn Kibum's fingers curl on his chest, his nails leaving faint marks behind.
Right then, right at that moment, Minho can't bear it any longer. In one swift movement he flips them over until Kibum is pressed into the mattress, nearly folding him. Minho slides his large palms along Kibum's thighs, all the way to the hollows of his knees where he tightens his hold, pushes until Kibum's knees almost touch the mattress. Every single muscle in Minho's body is wrung tight, close to snapping, and his arms tremble as he holds them both in position.
Minho looks up, straight into a pair of jet-black eyes staring right back at him. He isn't sure if it's just his overactive imagination, his mind racing a million miles an hour, but for a second he could swear Kibum's lips curve into a challenging smirk, urging him to go on, do it, fuck me like you mean it.
He blinks and it's gone. Except for where it's carved in the back of his mind, the gaze haunting him when he closes his eyes, when he as much as stops to breathe.
Minho lets go and fucks Kibum, slow and deep, drinks in his choked gasps and broken moans, revels in the palpable trembles of his body. When Kibum comes his back arches, underlined by the carnal sound that spills from his bruised lips. Minho doesn't even blink when he follows, afraid that the perfectly debauched image right in front of him might be just a dream, vanish if he doesn't hold on to it.
His vision goes black and for a moment, he simply breathes, lets himself shatter, right there.
Until a moment later when Kibum kicks him off ungently to stretch his limbs, finally allowing himself to relax. He makes it up for that by pulling Minho back close again, licking his way into his mouth in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss.
Sweaty, gross and stained or not, this is when they feel all the pieces click together and complete the puzzle.
steal my sunshine
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi, Ryeowook | PG | 852 words | Zhou Mi has tons of friends. Kyuhyun doesn’t like it.
for imxaxreader ♥ ilubb and I hope you know you can always request Qmi (or anything) from me :3
“Sorry, gotta go! I’m meeting some friends over lunch and I’m already running late. Talk to you later, Kuixian!” Zhou Mi sounds positively chirpy as he ends the call, so excited about his lunch date that he barely manages to contain himself. Kyuhyun is left with the dial tone and he is, simply put, grumpy. This isn’t the first time, either, those “lunch dates” (Kyuhyun automatically makes air quotations with his fingers) seem to be happening in growing frequency.
The next hour, Kyuhyun spends furiously killing enemies in front of his laptop. The next hour, he spends in the kitchen, eating to drown out his sorrows.
Until it starts all over again. Kyuhyun wakes up to happy texts from Zhou Mi, who tells him about new purchases and exhausting shopping trips, describes the foods he’s eaten, the movies he’s seen… and most importantly, who he’s been with. Kyuhyun doesn’t even recognize all of the names from the previous messages, and it seems that Zhou Mi has a whole army of friends at his disposal.
Which, would be all nice and dandy, of course. If it wasn’t for the boiling jealousy in the pit of Kyuhyun’s stomach. Quickly he hits a few buttons and sends back a snappy, short message.
Two people can play this game, Kyuhyun decides, going through his contacts. He calls Changmin first but only gets his voicemail saying he should leave a message, which already darkens his mood. Deciding to go for his Kyu-line he tries Minho next, but apparently he isn’t even in Korea and Kyuhyun feels kind of uninformed at that.
After going through twenty-seven contacts from his list Kyuhyun decides to give up. Who needs friends anyway? He pointedly ignores his phone and stuffs it in his pillowcase, determinedly marching to the kitchen to find all the takeout flyers they own. He orders pizza (two different kinds), some Italian whateveritis, gyros from his favourite Greek restaurant, and vengefully stuffs all the flyers to Chinese restaurants into the trash.
Hours later Kyuhyun sits in the middle of the couch with empty and half-empty containers all around him, the TV switched on even though he isn’t paying much attention to it. He’s too busy trying not to explode. Besides, he is still grumpy and this stupid, overly romantic Chinese show isn’t going to make him change his mind. Even if he doesn’t change the channel, either.
Ryeowook is the one who finds him in that state, staring from wide eyes. “Kyuhyun! What is going on here? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Worried, he hurries closer and starts gathering the takeout boxes to bring them away. He stops when Kyuhyun doesn’t answer, though, trying his best to give him a stern glare. “Kyuhyun?”
“I’m lonely,” Kyuhyun mumbles, frowning even harder at the television when the happy couple ends up together. “I’m lonely and sad and I will be forever alone.” Self pity? What is that, can he eat it? Together with the tons of takeout he just consumed.
That makes Ryeowook sigh. “Lonely? Half the time you complain how you hate living with half a dozen obnoxious and loud guys. And how you wish you’d have a moment of peace instead of Zhou Mi clinging on to you constantly.” He points out, not without amusement.
“But,” Kyuhyun sighs. And shuts up. He knows when he’s lost.
Ryeowook shoos him away and into the bathroom to take a shower, before tucking him in bed. He sets a glass of water and some fruit salt on the bedside table, just in case. Kyuhyun is actually quite thankful, even if he doesn’t say anything. Once he’s alone he tries to sleep, but it’s in vain. He keeps tossing and turning, until he simply can’t take it anymore.
After a short crisis of oh my god I’ve lost my phone he remembers where it is and digs it out, not even bothering to check for messages or missed calls before he already makes the call. Zhou Mi sounds somewhat confused as he answers, and it must be quite late judging by that. “Kuixian?”
“Look,” Kyuhyun takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy and I’m sorry that I don’t like your friends and that they make me want to claw my eyes out since I don’t want them to spend time with you since you should only spend time with me and I am sorry I was so snappy earlier I didn’t mean it. It’s just so frustrating when you’re there and I’m here and when are you coming back again I’m dying you should save me.”
He has to stop for breath and there’s a long silent moment. Until Zhou Mi speaks up, tentative. “Uhm. I’m not sure what you were raving about… but, apology accepted?”
Kyuhyun huffs. Of course, just when he has a major crisis Zhou Mi is completely oblivious to it. “Get your scrawny ass home. I mean it.”
“It’s not long anymore,” Zhou Mi laughs, affection laced thick in his voice. Grudgingly, Kyuhyun admits he can probably wait a bit longer. Maybe.
space between
Siwon/Han Geng | PG | 415 words | He never expected to meet him again. Not like this.
for songofcolour! it’s kind of sad… I’m sorry :(
Coming back to China always brings such bittersweet memories. The second Siwon steps down from the plane, walks towards the terminal to fetch his luggage, he is struck by a strong feeling of familiarity. It’s like coming back home. Although at the same time he knows it will never be the same again. He weaves through the crowd and picks up his suitcase, heading straight to one of the cafeterias. There’s always time for a strong cup of coffee.
On his way Siwon grabs a newspaper from one of the stalls. Even if he can’t read the language properly he does recognize some words. A far bigger reason is though that newspapers always bring him back in time. The rustling of the paper, the subtle scent of paper and ink, the way his fingers stain black if he keeps leafing long enough.
“Did you finally learn to read properly?” A sudden voice, right behind him. Siwon startles and almost drops his coffee, hissing as some of it spills on his fingers. He reaches for a tissue but before he can grab it, it’s handed to him. Automatically his fingers tighten but his mind is already elsewhere. His eyes travel up a lean arm, up to a familiar line of shoulders, up until he stares straight into those eyes.
Han Geng’s eyes.
They haven’t seen since… since forever. It’s been months and still Siwon could swear he knows every crease of the other man, that wary expression, every single eyelash. He forces a smile. “Han Geng.” A part of him is ecstatic, his heart jumping in his chest, but he holds it back. He can’t afford having it broken, not again.
“It’s good to see you,” Han Geng smiles and the look in his eyes is sincere, if somewhat melancholy. He makes no move to sit down and Siwon doesn’t offer. The silence is awkward between them, something it never was before. With a low sigh, Han Geng steps closer. Just when he’s almost past Siwon he places a hand on his shoulder, looking down. “I miss you.”
He slips something down on the table, next to Siwon’s clenched fingers, before he gives another pat on his shoulder and slips away.
What feels like hours later Siwon looks down, his eyes burning as he fights not to blink. A card. A name, a contact number, an email address.
When Siwon slips the card in his pocket it feels like it might just burn through the fabric.
open wide
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi | PG | 542 words | The twins absolutely hate going to the dentist. Then again, who wouldn’t.
for nashirah, in the mpreg!verse :D you’ll get the other prompts sometime, in the futureee~ they’re so sweet my teeth hurt. …which leads me to dentists and my absolute fear for them D: I respect the profession but… no no. SCARED.
“Do not want!” The shrill sound is something that might make anyone’s ears pop, but the parents of small children all seem to have developed immunity to it. At least, enough to keep them alive and resistant even in the face of a little girl who is shrieking her lungs out, her little hands clenched into fists as she is determined to stick to her decision. “Do not want!” She emphasizes, kicking the floor for good measure.
Kyuhyun sighs, crouching down in front of Minhee. Why is he always the one who has to play the bad cop? Then again, Zhou Mi is trying to hush Cheolhyun, who is at least almost as hysterical, his lower lip quivering as he tries to hold back his tears. “Minhee,” Kyuhyun begins in his most patient listen-girl-I-am-serious tone. “You remember what we talked about? The doctor here, he has to take a look at your teeth again. Remember the tooth-baddies?”
At that, Minhee stops screeching at least and looks up at him from big, clear eyes. “The little baddies? Baddies who hide? Do bad things to toothies?” She asks, looking more concerned than she has any right to. Kyuhyun almost sighs again, trying hard to keep a straight face. It’s hard to forget the elaborate story Zhou Mi came up with about little tooth-baddies who live in your mouth and hide between your teeth to do damage to them whenever they get the chance. He isn’t sure if it’s the best way to teach the kids, but at least it gets them to brush their teeth without protests.
“Yes,” Kyuhyun nods solemnly, “those exactly. You wouldn’t want them to take over your teeth, would you?” He asks, trying to make her agree with him so they won’t need to actually tie her down on the dentist’s chair and sedate her or something. He wonders why he’s thinking of drugging his children so often, is that normal?
One can clearly see how Minhee thinks about it, her face scrunching up to a thoughtful expression. She takes her time, her cheeks still flushed and tear-streaked, but she has obviously forgotten all about crying for now. Finally, she nods. “Okay, daddy.”
“If you’re a nice girl,” Kyuhyun smiles and reaches to ruffle her hair. “The doctor might even give you a sticker. Like last time?” That, at least, the girl will definitely remember. Indeed, her eyes lighten up and she smiles widely at the prospect of some bribery.
Easily Kyuhyun scoops the girl up into his arms, straightening to look at Zhou Mi, still holding their baby boy. “So, ready to face the doom?” He asks, clearly noticing the way Cheolhyun hasn’t yet decided whether to cry or not. He dearly hopes the boy decides on no, especially when Minhee starts explaining to her brother about shiny stickers and how they will get something nice if they’re good kids.
Zhou Mi laughs. “Ready or not, here we go.” Well, at least there’s always two of them. Kyuhyun doesn’t even want to imagine how it would be to visit the dentist on his own with the twins. He reaches out and grabs Zhou Mi’s hand in his, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
Their names are called. This is it.
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fonulyn
This is a post with very varied pairings and fandoms and ratings so pay close attention to the information okay? :D They’re a mess. I jump from fandom to fandom. Also first time writing SHINee don’t kill me please ;~; And enjoyy~
call me… anytime
Minho/Key | PG | 379 words | Kim Kibum is like the most common name in the whole of Korea. But a name doesn’t make a man.
for myself (and for songofcolour ♥) since… well yes. no explanation ok they’re just addictive and I wanted to try.
"There are a million Kim Kibums!" Kibum sighs exaggeratedly and even places the back of his hand on his forehead to feign distress. "And I'm not talking about the whole of Korea but the entertainment industry alone!"
"Kibum is a nice name?" Minho ventures, but it's too much a question, too little a statement. He doesn't know Kibum well enough yet, crossing invisible lines unintentionally. With Kibum - that much he has learned - crossing lines is easy but forgiveness comes even easier. After a snappy comment or a minor temper tantrum.
This time, Kibum only groans. "Why couldn't my parents name me something extravagant? Something unique and expressive!"
Minho has no answer to that. "What would you like to be called?" He tries again and judging by the enthusiastic glimmer that lightens up in Kibum's eyes he is doing marginally better.
"I don't know!" Kibum exclaims but it sounds almost dreamy, like he thinks about it every night before he falls asleep. "I would make something up, you know. But if I just come up with a name it might mean, I don't know, a lamp post in some language. That'd be embarrassing."
"Kibum could mean a lamp post in some language," Minho points out. He already knows what he will get - a murderous, appalled glare and probably some expertly chosen curses - but somehow he can't hold himself back. He never can. These six days with Kibum have been exactly like this, him knowing what he says will set Kibum off but still unable to hold it back.
But before he even knows what is happening, Kibum is laughing. Minho cracks a smile, a stray chuckle spilling from his lips without his permission.
"You know," Kibum grins as he leans closer, conspiratorially. The way he places his palms on Minho's thighs should be illegal and as comfortable as Minho is with friends touching each other - well, they've just met less than a week ago, and when most of his friends lean into his personal space his heart doesn't make stupid flips in his chest.
None of it matters though. Not when Kibum's lips are only inches away from his own, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "I quite like you, Choi Minho. I quite like you."
about time
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi | rating | 516 words | They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this.
for 16littleseconds! I hope you don’t mind that I made them older :) I think I’ll write another one of those prompts you left me, too, but for now have this! (I wrote this and then we had a blackout and of course it hadn’t saved so… this is like attempt number two)
It’s Kyuhyun’s thirty-sixth birthday when he realizes something he should’ve known already sixteen years before. It’s somewhat momentous when he blows out the candles - Henry insisted on including exactly thirty-six of them (“I know it’ll make you feel old, hyung.”) and Kyuhyun thinks it’s kind of mean. He doesn’t feel old, but he feels kind of stupid instead.
Almost everyone is there, including thirteen of his group mates and over twenty label mates and other co-workers from past years. And throughout the gigantic party, raucous laughter and animated chatting, all he can think of is geez it’s so nice to see Zhou Mi again. While the last time he saw Zhou Mi was actually less than twenty-four hours ago.
Shouldn’t it be a lot more impactful to see, like, Sungmin who he hasn’t seen in over a year? It’s not that he isn’t happy to see him, too, but it’s nothing in comparison.
The rest of his birthday party Kyuhyun spends sulking in a corner. Until Sungmin (who else) suddenly is right there and kicks him rather non-gently. “Scoot over.” He demands and Kyuhyun does, so that Sungmin can sit right next to him on the floor between the piano and the glass door to the balcony. “Now, tell me. What’s eating you up.” They haven’t seen in a year but it doesn’t mean they don’t still know one another through and through.
“Well,” Kyuhyun sighs. “I think that something finally clicked in my brain, you know.” He came out to Sungmin already years ago so it’s not any new information on that front, but the actual object of his affection..? That might be a different story. Sungmin waits patiently, though, until Kyuhyun looks up at him and goes on. “If I ask Zhou Mi to go out with me, do you think he’ll say yes?”
Sungmin looks like someone just dropped a bomb. Kyuhyun already prepares for taking the words back, but he’s interrupted by Sungmin. “You mean you haven’t asked him already?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Kyuhyun growls and aims a weak punch at Sungmin’s shoulder. Sungmin laughs.
When it’s Kyuhyun’s thirty-seventh birthday, everything feels so much different. There are the same guests, again, exactly thirty-seven candles on the cake, again. This time, when he blows out the candles there is a warm hand against the small of his back though, as if reminding him of everything he has gained throughout the last 365 days.
Turned out, Zhou Mi did very much like to go out with Kyuhyun and they grabbed dinner together the first chance they got. It was all somewhat awkward at first. The attraction had been there for years, for over a decade, and they were used to not acting on it. Well, not acting on it more than what was acceptable in public.
Once they work past that, it feels like things have always been like this. Like they’re an old married couple, as much as Kyuhyun grimaces at the wording.
This time, when he blows out the candles, he doesn’t make a wish. He already has what he wants.
like the sea, mine to conquer
Kaoru/Shinya | PG | 441 words | There aren’t many things Kaoru would choose over the sea.
for melinen, who wanted Kaoru/Shinya as pirates! I have to say this is kind of inspired by another fic (never posted) that mentioned Shinya as a bartender and Kaoru as a salesman of weaponry living in the backroom. they had quite a delicious kind of twisted domestic relationship, haha.
Roaring laughter reaches Kaoru’s ears as he steps over the threshold and into the dimly lit bar. He knows the place like the back of his own hand, unfazed by wrestle match that has apparently turned out to be a full-blown bar fight mere minutes prior. Expertly he dodges swinging fists and misplaced kicks, grabs his hat when some drunken, dirty man nearly sweeps it off his head.
All without batting an eyelash.
Once he gets to the counter he leans against it, despite the way his sleeve soaks up the spilled beer, turning damp within seconds. He doesn’t need to wait long and there’s a man in front of him, with messy blond hair and eyes so dark they seem almost black in this light. Kaoru knows better. He has studied the lights and reflections of those eyes numerous times.
“So how about it, Shinya,” Kaoru’s voice is gravelly and low, rough from the lack of use and still audible enough. For a second the man - Shinya - only considers him, before cracking a hint of a smile. It’s barely a lift of his lips in the corners, but it’s enough. It’s there.
A mug of beer is slammed in front of him before he even notices and he reaches for it, automatically. But when his fingers wrap around the mug, Shinya’s hand is still there, now between his palm and the ceramic. “Are you sure you’re ready to retire, cap’n.”
There is a challenge in Shinya’s words. Are you ready to retire? To leave sailing the seven seas, to permanently chain yourself to a building on land, to live in the same place instead of the thrill of travelling. Although, he supposes there could be a lot duller places to live in than this island, this bar.
Kaoru takes the challenge, the grip of his hand tightening. “How shall we seal the deal?”
Hours later Kaoru is counting the cracks on the ceiling, the covers itching on bare skin. There’s warm breath on his neck and an arm slung around his shoulder, and he can’t say he’d object to any of that on a regular basis. He knows it won’t be easy. He has been living on the sea ever since he turned six, and taking up the business of handling smuggled weaponry, as thrilling as it can be, isn’t even near the same.
Still, he doesn’t doubt his decision. Starting tomorrow, he will set up the backroom of the bar as his headquarters. Knowing that right there, on the other side of the thick wooden wall, Shinya handles the bar as he always does.
It doesn’t sound too bad.
cirque bakery
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi, Ryeowook, Yesung | PG | 560 words | Things don’t exactly work like in the regular bakeries.
for yukichi_1004, who wanted Qmi pastry chefs! they… don’t do much baking in this but they own a bakery 8D and Ryeowook and Yesung work for them! \o/
“You should know,” Ryeowook drawls as if he isn’t completely certain how to say it, but in the end he ends up blurting the words out anyway. No sugar coating, even though they are currently at a bakery and heading to the kitchen. “The bosses can drive you crazy here. Don’t tell me I never warned you.”
Yesung arches an eyebrow at that, quickening his steps to keep up with this man who walks a lot faster than him, even if he seems so small and fragile. “Are they nitpickers? Or just overall nasty?” He asks curiously, trying to think if he saw anything weird at the job interview. All he remembers is a tall, thin man, large nose and a smile that seemed way too wide for that narrow face. Friendly, as well, the man had been nothing short of sweet even in his attempts to be professional.
“No,” Ryeowook is drawling again and Yesung has to stop himself from commenting on that. He bites on his tongue and lets his new co-worker go on. “You’ll see. We’re here anyway.”
He swings the door open and the first thing Yesung does is stare.
There are two men, currently engaged in a loud food-war as they keep sprinkling each other with flour - or is that powdered sugar? - and running around the table in the middle of the room. One of them he recognizes as his new boss, figuring the second one has to be the business partner mentioned before. The genius who took care of everything else but actual baking.
Yesung turns to Ryeowook and catches a suffering look in his eyes. “They should calm down soon. They always do.”
In fact, they do, and a moment later Yesung is shaking hands with the tall man - Zhou Mi, he reminds himself - who actually hired him for the job. There is something sticky between their palms but he writes it off as some kind of dough, judging by the structure. “We are really glad you could join us! We’ve been needing a new helper around for… well, forever. Ryeowook is the one in charge of the pastries themselves, I am in charge of the decoration, and Kyuhyun here is in charge of the nerdy stuff.”
“You call my work nerdy one more time and I will drown you in the barrel of apple marmalade,” Kyuhyun shoots a dark glare at Zhou Mi, who just smiles even wider and nudges the aforementioned with his elbow. It turns out to be a full elbow-war in mere seconds and Yesung has to wait again before he gets to greet his other boss more or less formally.
All in all, he has a feeling he will like it here. Ryeowook shows him the infamous recipe of his lemon-cinnamon cakes and guides him through every step like a perfect kindergarten teacher. Kyuhyun spends more time in the kitchen than in his actual office, usually poking his head over Zhou Mi’s shoulder to see what he’s doing, to best bother him. Sometimes the two giggle over some joke only they understand, sometimes they end up smearing the almost ready cupcakes all over each other’s faces.
Then, Ryeowook will just sigh, a smile tugging his lips. “This, this is why we end up making twice as many goods as we actually ever sell.”
It’s easy to see why.
santa u are the one
Han Geng/Heechul | R/NC17 | 699 words | Heechul thinks that Han Geng makes a pretty good bad Santa.
for daidetre, who wanted hanchul smut (surprise!) and so Geng gets to be the Santa \o/
It’s Christmas night and everyone’s asleep. Well, nearly everyone. In the silence of the dark room, one can just barely make out the soft sounds of footsteps when Heechul pads across the floor. There is no other light but the electric candles on the quite impressive Christmas tree they managed to drag into the dorms and situate in the corner, even though it lost some branches to the elevator ride.
Heechul’s eyes are not on the Christmas tree though, neither on the creative way it’s been decorated, or the mistletoes hung all over the ceiling. He only has eyes for the man lounging in the huge armchair next to the tree, obviously waiting for him. The man clad in red and white, a huge fluffy beard covering the grin Heechul knows is there.
Santa Claus.
Or, at least, Heechul’s own private Santa. Swiftly, Heechul approaches him, his voice low as he speaks. “Finally, everyone passed out. Now don’t you dare wake them up or I’ll skin you alive, understand?” He is grinning though as he straddles the man’s lap, leaning in to bring their faces closer together. In one tug the beard is pulled down and their mouths latched together, the kiss deep and passionate right away. They’ve had enough time to anticipate this by now.
It isn’t until Heechul feels long fingers slip into his pyjama pants that he pulls back, a grin dancing on his kiss bruised lips, his eyes dark from sheer lust. “Now, Santa,” he drawls, his voice surprisingly low and rough, and licks his lips. “Have I been a good boy?”
The only response he gains is a low chuckle from the man dressed as Santa, the strong arms tightening around him as he’s pulled closer. “Have you ever?” Han Geng asks, nipping on Heechul’s ear lightly. He yanks Heechul down again, makes him grind against his erection, and Heechul doesn’t even try to struggle, instead arching his back to gain more of it.
“Let me make it up to you, then,” Heechul offers and there is no mistaking what he means by that. His pyjama pants are easily removed and tossed aside, while it’s a lot more difficult to actually peel Han Geng’s pants down far enough. The gigantic belt buckle already tries to stop them, but once it’s out of the way the rest goes considerably more smoothly. Han Geng breaks out the lube from his pocket and gives Heechul a wink, telling him there is one more special present for him.
When Heechul is finally working himself down on Han Geng’s lap he thinks he knows exactly what that present is. He clings on to the other man’s shoulders as he leans back, changes the angle until each single movement down has him shuddering. He barely notices when he starts moaning, the breathy sounds spilling from his lips on their own.
Han Geng’s hands are strong on his hips, guiding his movements, especially when he begins to meet the movements halfway. It must be hot as fuck in that Santa costume by now, especially judging by the droplets of sweat beading on Han Geng’s forehead, but it’s not like either of them wants to stop to get it off. They need to get off, first.
Which, thankfully, happens only mere minutes later. Han Geng’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of Heechul’s thighs as he yanks him down against him, slamming his hips up to bury himself in that willing body to the hilt. Neither of them knows who is the one thrown over the edge first but it doesn’t matter, not when they push each other even further beyond their limits.
When it’s finally over, Heechul nearly collapses against the other man, chest heaving. “So,” Heechul gasps, leaning his forehead against Han Geng’s. The beard kind of tickles but he doesn’t really mind, not enough to move to get it out of the way. “Does this mean I was good or bad?”
The next morning, Heechul walks into the kitchen to find a whole bunch of his friends grinning at him. No one says anything, not before Donghae chirps up happily, singing. “Last night, I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus!”
surprise party
Super Junior & Dir en grey, no pairings | PG13 | 758 words | The invitation said “leather and bondage costume party” right?
for wildmetal_chick, who wanted SJ/Diru crack! I’m so bad at this, I hope it’s at least halfway decent ;___;
“Just for the record,” Kaoru sounds as grumpy as he looks, a deep frown on his features as he is trying to hide behind his messy, dirty curls. “I feel like an idiot.” It doesn’t help that they’re currently in an apartment complex, standing before a door to get to a party they’ve been invited. Kaoru knew, he knew, that taking the invitation from those weird Koreans Die had developed such a crush on would never lead to anything good.
“Well,” Die smiles at him and reaches to pat his shoulder, obviously not surprised at all by the complaints. “For the record, you look like an idiot, too.” He supplies helpfully, even though he doesn’t look much better himself.
None of them do, actually. Even now, at the age of thirty-three, Shinya manages to look like a girl (if one ignores the shadow on his upper lip, he just didn’t have the time to shave) with his wavy hair and the PVC miniskirt he’s wearing. Wait, what? Yes, that’s right. A PVC miniskirt and a matching studded collar, a laced corsage around his torso. He even managed to find the long gloves he had over ten years ago.
Still, he seems to be the one most comfortable with the situation, as he kicks the grumbling Kaoru forward. “Ring the doorbell. C’mon, the sooner we’re inside the sooner this will be over.” Kaoru, tugging on his tight leather pants that are quite a bit too tight on the crotch, rings the bell as instructed, even if he doesn’t look too happy about it. Kyo catches the movement of his other hand and gives him a pointed look. “Kaoru, you should cut down on the junk food. You don’t fit your pants anymore.”
“Shut it,” Kaoru snaps, “these are Die’s pants and how the hell am I going to fit into them when they’re skin tight on that scrawny ass!?”
“My ass is not scrawny,” Die denies, frowning. Toshiya wraps an arm around his waist. “No. You don’t have one to begin with.”
They are saved from Die’s comeback though, since the next second the door opens wide and they’re welcomed inside. Except that Siwon, who was the unfortunate person to volunteer to let them in, looks like he has seen a ghost. Or a train wreck. Or both. His eyes are comically wide and he should probably pick up his jaw from the floor unless he wants to look forever like the Scream mask.
“Who is it, Wonnie?” Sounds from behind and suddenly there’s a lithe arm wrapped around Siwon’s shoulders from the back, a familiar looking face peeking over his shoulder. Heechul’s expression brightens up immediately, his eyes sparkling gleefully. “Oh it’s you! Come on in! I see you got my invitation.”
Baffled, they do step inside, but that only turns the situation tenfold more awkward. Everyone is dressed casual, typically jeans and a t shirt, and no one - except for the Japanese guests - have anything out of the ordinary on them. Well, unless one counts the purple boa Heechul is wearing and the awful Hawaiian print on Zhou Mi’s shirt. Nothing to this extent though.
“Didn’t you say,” Kaoru drawls as he leans closer to Die, who in turn clutches Toshiya’s arm to stay upright. “That this was a theme party. And that the theme was -” He doesn’t need to finish, as Die nods slowly. Their invitation indeed said just that, a party with the theme of bdsm style, leather and PVC, studs and spikes and if you have a whip please bring it too.
It’s silent, until Heechul bursts out laughing, clinging on to Siwon’s shoulders not to fall on the floor. “Oh my god.” He gains a disapproving glance from Siwon but ignores it completely. “This is even more hilarious than I thought! I see you got the invitations I personally modified for you.” He cackles.
And he isn’t the only one. Some people are politely holding back their smiles or hiding them behind their hands, while others are laughing out loud or damn near rolling on the floor from the force of it. This, Kaoru thinks, has got to be the most embarrassing situation he has ever gotten himself into, in his whole life. And those damn bastards are all laughing at him! Them, whatever. Him.
Surprisingly (?) it’s Kyo who breaks the awkward silence on their part, pushing past his bandmates. “Now where the hell is the banquet. I am starving.”
Oh well. This would turn out to be an interesting evening.
serve me I’m sick
Eunhyuk/Heechul | PG | 405 words | This is nothing Eunhyuk wouldn’t already be used to.
for seinen_no, who wanted Heechul being sick and Eunhyuk dealing with him somehow x) …and somehow my Hyukkie turned out mute, haha
“How dare you bring me black tea when I specifically asked for green!?” The screech from one of the bedrooms is loud enough to carry through the whole apartment, startling its inhabitants. It’s also the signal for all the remaining people inside to grab their stuff and run, unless they want to get caught in the crossfire. No one does. When Heechul is sick, it’s best to just clear off and come back later - preferably with presents - to see if the situation has cooled off finally.
There is one brave person who does not flee, though. Donghae is the last to leave and he leans in to stage-whisper to his friend from the doorway. “Are you sure you’re not coming? You do know he’s going to kill you?” He only receives a short headshake and a small smile from Eunhyuk though, and he shrugs before the door slams shut after him.
Now that it’s silent, Eunhyuk pads into the kitchen, going through the cabinets carefully. Green tea, not in tea bags, never, steeped for three minutes in water that is just the right temperature (70°-75° and yes, he does have a thermometer). He sets the tray neatly, places a slice of lemon and some sugar cubes on the side, since he knows Heechul doesn’t always want them but it’s best to be prepared.
Once he’s done he picks up the tray and moves carefully into the bedroom. Heechul is sitting on the bed, looking thoroughly displeased as he blows his nose and sniffles a little into the tissue. He is wrapped in four blankets, looking surprisingly tiny underneath the layers. “What do you want?” He snarls as soon as he spots Eunhyuk in the doorway.
Eunhyuk just smiles, approaching until he can carefully set the tray down in front of Heechul on the mattress. Even more carefully he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, looking at the other man expectantly. Heechul frowns at him for a few seconds before reaching for the tea. He cradles the mug between his palms, and grudgingly he has to admit that it does relax him and make him feel better, a little.
Neither of them says anything for the longest while, Heechul simply focusing on his tea and Eunhyuk keeping him company. And that’s alright. That’s actually quite perfect. After the tea is gone Heechul is considerably more relaxed, even offers a soft smile.
Thank you.
in another world you could be mine
Minho/Key | PG | 164 words | Some things are never meant to be?
I wanted it to be happy but it sounds kind of angsty, doesn’t it :(
There are touches. There have always been touches, even if nothing like the blatant fanservice and exaggerated gestures he shares with Jonghyun, but there have been touches nevertheless. It's nothing new, and that is exactly why Key doesn't know why it gets him so worked up. Why now, all of a sudden?
If he'd think about it a bit longer, or from a less subjective standpoint, he would realize it isn't sudden. At all. Things have taken time to build up and one morning he simply blinks and opens his eyes and there it is, right in front of him.
It's like Key's world tilts a little off axis.
He isn't almighty for nothing. Even if these recently noticed sensations send a shiver up his spine every time Minho's hand touches his, even if it prickles on his skin and makes his fingers linger a little more than strictly necessary.
It's not like it means anything. It's not allowed to, not now. Maybe never.
can’t take my eyes off you
Minho/Key | PG | 697 words | All those body waves and hip thrusts did not belong to the choreography, now did they?
for songofcolour! :D now go request more minkey so I get to write it XD she wanted dance practice and distractions and I had tons of fun with this prompt you wouldn’t even believe~
Practicing the choreography to their upcoming single release is nothing new to them. The fact that Taemin learns the steps in high speed and Key follows only a little behind is nothing new, either, nor is the fact the others need to struggle a lot more on average to keep the act together.
What is new, though, is how unfocused Minho is. Usually he pulls through with sheer determination, his competitive nature enough to flare up the stubbornness to make him push his limits until he perfects the act like everyone else. Ever since their debut and the first immensely frustrating dance practices he hasn’t managed to step on Jonghyun’s feet in the midst of them switching places, or actually walk face first against the wall.
Minho wishes he’d be joking about that last part but no. It happened.
The reason to his troubles is clear. He blames it all on Key. Hell, he could swear Key keeps adding several unnecessary body rolls and hip thrusts into the choreography whenever he can. It’s not like a simple step-step-sidestep needs to be underlined by a swish of Key’s hair or a cocked hip.
Dancing with a hard-on proves to be surprisingly difficult, and Minho curses the fact that his sweatpants don’t do much to hide his problem. Day by day, he dresses himself into baggier and baggier pants, hoping to at least distract others of his condition, even if he can’t gain control of himself. He also curses the hectic preparations and their schedules. It would get anyone on the edge, not having a single moment to vent frustrations in more than a week.
The last straw comes in form of an extra practice that pushes them to their limits. The lunch break can’t come soon enough and as soon as it’s announced everyone files out of the room in record speed. Except Key, who is held back by a gentle hand on his wrist. He simply looks at Minho for a second before waving the others off with a we’ll follow you later.
As soon as they’re alone Minho corners Key, pushes him backwards until a table comes in the way. His large palms slide easily on Key’s waist, his thumb brushing underneath the loose shirt, inching it upwards just barely. Key’s eyes are curious but he doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything as his waist is suddenly gripped tighter and he is lifted on the tabletop.
Instinctively, Key’s hands find Minho’s biceps, his fingers curling loosely. With one slow step, Minho situates himself between Key’s thighs. “Do you have any idea,” he begins lowly, his voice rumbling from his chest. “how much you frustrate me.” He knows his eyes are dark, like a challenge, but he doesn’t even blink, not when Key meets his gaze head on.
“Oh,” Key smirks, understanding dawning on his face as his expression smoothes into quite a wicked one. “I hoped I was turning you on.” He admits directly, giving Minho’s arms a small squeeze.
Minho kisses him hard. He cups a hand in the back of Key’s skull and pulls him closer, nips on his lower lip before having it all, claiming what he feels is rightfully his. Key doesn’t resist.
They pull apart a moment later, breaths ragged, and Key drops his head on Minho’s shoulder to inhale his scent, musk mixed with a sheen of sweat. Perhaps not the most flattering combination in everyday life, but even more tempting to the carnal side deep within.
“Besides,” Key’s breath is warm on Minho’s skin, his lips pressed against his jaw in a chaste kiss. “You were begging for it when you chose to wear these.” While Key speaks he slips his hands lower, shamelessly inching his fingers under the waistband of Minho’s sweats. The tightest pair he owns, thanks to his baggy-pants-plan that has ensured all the others are dirty now.
The words make Minho grin and he hides it in Key’s hair. “Were you staring, too?”
Key huffs. “Of course not. Don’t get big headed.” The way he slides his hands lower speaks a whole other story, though, and Minho doesn’t even try to hold back his laugh.
closest
Minho/Key | PG | 460 words | When they met, all those years ago, neither of them thought they’d grow to be this close.
for me (yes every time I finish a request for someone else I write one for myself) and idk where it came from but I like it 8D
The streetlights flash inside of the car, reflecting from the big raindrops patterning the tinted glass. It’s been a long day and no one has the energy to actually say anything, much less to move an inch as they sit like rooted on their spots, dozing in and out of consciousness. Somehow Key has managed to claim the backseat of the van, forcibly kicking the others to the front seats. All except for Minho. “You,” he said earlier, tugging on Minho’s wrist to gain his attention. “You’re a comfortable pillow.”
Now, Minho is serving his duty as a pillow, half-leaning against the window as he makes himself as comfortable as possible. Key’s head is resting on his lap as he’s stretched over the other two seats, curled up like he wants to sleep right then and there. Which, admittedly, he probably does. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, and Minho smiles slightly to himself as he places his palm on Key’s shoulder.
The interview from before flashes through his mind and he taps Key’s cheek with his middle finger, gaining his attention when sleepy eyes blink up at him. “Closest thing to a best friend, huh?” He asks, dropping his voice so low it’s only audible to the two of them.
Key obviously resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead shifting on his back so he can look up without craning his neck. “My mother always told me that the secret to a lasting marriage is to be your spouse's best friend.” He answers, the words slow and nearly hesitant, as if he has to fight sleep to get each of them out.
That is kind of adorable, but Minho isn’t certain if he makes much sense out of the sentence. “Are you proposing to me?” He teases, his hand migrating from Key’s shoulder to his chest in a half-hug.
“Shut up,” Key growls and closes his eyes again. He turns his head until his nose is buried in Minho’s shirt, face against his stomach, which nearly muffles the rest of his words. “Of course not.”
The silence drags on so long that Minho is already sure Key fell asleep. There’s a slight movement though, in the way he shifts even closer, until he’s practically lying across Minho’s lap. It might be a spur of a moment decision, at least he doesn’t really think about it, not before he leans down until his lips brush against Key’s cheek.
“Yes.”
Key can hardly control the burst of laughter, not even when he digs his face into Minho’s stomach again. Over the backrest in front of them, Jonghyun gives a disapproving frown for being waken up, but all Minho can do is smile goofily at him.
unravel me
Minho/Key | NC17 | 541 words | Sweaty, gross and stained or not, this is when they feel all the pieces click together and complete the puzzle.
for me again nnnnh no comment
It is dark. Lights off, curtains drawn. Unable to see anything more than shades and shapes, Minho focuses on Kibum's breath that is hot against his neck, coming in short, harsh pants. It's a moment he needs, a moment they both need, when the stretch is almost too much to bear and makes Kibum focus on the intensity of it all. He is straddling Minho's hips, his thighs securely on each side of him, as he rocks his hips in slow circular movements. It's the most he can do without coming undone all too soon.
"Kiss me," he demands as he tilts his head, brings his lips so close they brush against Minho's. It's all he has to say for his wish to be granted, long fingers threading into his short hair to tug on it, to yank him closer until their teeth nearly clash together. It's sloppy, messy, lacking all finesse and under any other circumstances it would have been reason enough to break it completely.
But now, Kibum only pants into Minho's open mouth, breathes out obscenities as he gives another delicious roll of his hips and Minho retaliates by snapping his pelvis up, buries himself in even deeper. In turn Kibum's fingers curl on his chest, his nails leaving faint marks behind.
Right then, right at that moment, Minho can't bear it any longer. In one swift movement he flips them over until Kibum is pressed into the mattress, nearly folding him. Minho slides his large palms along Kibum's thighs, all the way to the hollows of his knees where he tightens his hold, pushes until Kibum's knees almost touch the mattress. Every single muscle in Minho's body is wrung tight, close to snapping, and his arms tremble as he holds them both in position.
Minho looks up, straight into a pair of jet-black eyes staring right back at him. He isn't sure if it's just his overactive imagination, his mind racing a million miles an hour, but for a second he could swear Kibum's lips curve into a challenging smirk, urging him to go on, do it, fuck me like you mean it.
He blinks and it's gone. Except for where it's carved in the back of his mind, the gaze haunting him when he closes his eyes, when he as much as stops to breathe.
Minho lets go and fucks Kibum, slow and deep, drinks in his choked gasps and broken moans, revels in the palpable trembles of his body. When Kibum comes his back arches, underlined by the carnal sound that spills from his bruised lips. Minho doesn't even blink when he follows, afraid that the perfectly debauched image right in front of him might be just a dream, vanish if he doesn't hold on to it.
His vision goes black and for a moment, he simply breathes, lets himself shatter, right there.
Until a moment later when Kibum kicks him off ungently to stretch his limbs, finally allowing himself to relax. He makes it up for that by pulling Minho back close again, licking his way into his mouth in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss.
Sweaty, gross and stained or not, this is when they feel all the pieces click together and complete the puzzle.
steal my sunshine
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi, Ryeowook | PG | 852 words | Zhou Mi has tons of friends. Kyuhyun doesn’t like it.
for imxaxreader ♥ ilubb and I hope you know you can always request Qmi (or anything) from me :3
“Sorry, gotta go! I’m meeting some friends over lunch and I’m already running late. Talk to you later, Kuixian!” Zhou Mi sounds positively chirpy as he ends the call, so excited about his lunch date that he barely manages to contain himself. Kyuhyun is left with the dial tone and he is, simply put, grumpy. This isn’t the first time, either, those “lunch dates” (Kyuhyun automatically makes air quotations with his fingers) seem to be happening in growing frequency.
The next hour, Kyuhyun spends furiously killing enemies in front of his laptop. The next hour, he spends in the kitchen, eating to drown out his sorrows.
Until it starts all over again. Kyuhyun wakes up to happy texts from Zhou Mi, who tells him about new purchases and exhausting shopping trips, describes the foods he’s eaten, the movies he’s seen… and most importantly, who he’s been with. Kyuhyun doesn’t even recognize all of the names from the previous messages, and it seems that Zhou Mi has a whole army of friends at his disposal.
Which, would be all nice and dandy, of course. If it wasn’t for the boiling jealousy in the pit of Kyuhyun’s stomach. Quickly he hits a few buttons and sends back a snappy, short message.
Two people can play this game, Kyuhyun decides, going through his contacts. He calls Changmin first but only gets his voicemail saying he should leave a message, which already darkens his mood. Deciding to go for his Kyu-line he tries Minho next, but apparently he isn’t even in Korea and Kyuhyun feels kind of uninformed at that.
After going through twenty-seven contacts from his list Kyuhyun decides to give up. Who needs friends anyway? He pointedly ignores his phone and stuffs it in his pillowcase, determinedly marching to the kitchen to find all the takeout flyers they own. He orders pizza (two different kinds), some Italian whateveritis, gyros from his favourite Greek restaurant, and vengefully stuffs all the flyers to Chinese restaurants into the trash.
Hours later Kyuhyun sits in the middle of the couch with empty and half-empty containers all around him, the TV switched on even though he isn’t paying much attention to it. He’s too busy trying not to explode. Besides, he is still grumpy and this stupid, overly romantic Chinese show isn’t going to make him change his mind. Even if he doesn’t change the channel, either.
Ryeowook is the one who finds him in that state, staring from wide eyes. “Kyuhyun! What is going on here? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Worried, he hurries closer and starts gathering the takeout boxes to bring them away. He stops when Kyuhyun doesn’t answer, though, trying his best to give him a stern glare. “Kyuhyun?”
“I’m lonely,” Kyuhyun mumbles, frowning even harder at the television when the happy couple ends up together. “I’m lonely and sad and I will be forever alone.” Self pity? What is that, can he eat it? Together with the tons of takeout he just consumed.
That makes Ryeowook sigh. “Lonely? Half the time you complain how you hate living with half a dozen obnoxious and loud guys. And how you wish you’d have a moment of peace instead of Zhou Mi clinging on to you constantly.” He points out, not without amusement.
“But,” Kyuhyun sighs. And shuts up. He knows when he’s lost.
Ryeowook shoos him away and into the bathroom to take a shower, before tucking him in bed. He sets a glass of water and some fruit salt on the bedside table, just in case. Kyuhyun is actually quite thankful, even if he doesn’t say anything. Once he’s alone he tries to sleep, but it’s in vain. He keeps tossing and turning, until he simply can’t take it anymore.
After a short crisis of oh my god I’ve lost my phone he remembers where it is and digs it out, not even bothering to check for messages or missed calls before he already makes the call. Zhou Mi sounds somewhat confused as he answers, and it must be quite late judging by that. “Kuixian?”
“Look,” Kyuhyun takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy and I’m sorry that I don’t like your friends and that they make me want to claw my eyes out since I don’t want them to spend time with you since you should only spend time with me and I am sorry I was so snappy earlier I didn’t mean it. It’s just so frustrating when you’re there and I’m here and when are you coming back again I’m dying you should save me.”
He has to stop for breath and there’s a long silent moment. Until Zhou Mi speaks up, tentative. “Uhm. I’m not sure what you were raving about… but, apology accepted?”
Kyuhyun huffs. Of course, just when he has a major crisis Zhou Mi is completely oblivious to it. “Get your scrawny ass home. I mean it.”
“It’s not long anymore,” Zhou Mi laughs, affection laced thick in his voice. Grudgingly, Kyuhyun admits he can probably wait a bit longer. Maybe.
space between
Siwon/Han Geng | PG | 415 words | He never expected to meet him again. Not like this.
for songofcolour! it’s kind of sad… I’m sorry :(
Coming back to China always brings such bittersweet memories. The second Siwon steps down from the plane, walks towards the terminal to fetch his luggage, he is struck by a strong feeling of familiarity. It’s like coming back home. Although at the same time he knows it will never be the same again. He weaves through the crowd and picks up his suitcase, heading straight to one of the cafeterias. There’s always time for a strong cup of coffee.
On his way Siwon grabs a newspaper from one of the stalls. Even if he can’t read the language properly he does recognize some words. A far bigger reason is though that newspapers always bring him back in time. The rustling of the paper, the subtle scent of paper and ink, the way his fingers stain black if he keeps leafing long enough.
“Did you finally learn to read properly?” A sudden voice, right behind him. Siwon startles and almost drops his coffee, hissing as some of it spills on his fingers. He reaches for a tissue but before he can grab it, it’s handed to him. Automatically his fingers tighten but his mind is already elsewhere. His eyes travel up a lean arm, up to a familiar line of shoulders, up until he stares straight into those eyes.
Han Geng’s eyes.
They haven’t seen since… since forever. It’s been months and still Siwon could swear he knows every crease of the other man, that wary expression, every single eyelash. He forces a smile. “Han Geng.” A part of him is ecstatic, his heart jumping in his chest, but he holds it back. He can’t afford having it broken, not again.
“It’s good to see you,” Han Geng smiles and the look in his eyes is sincere, if somewhat melancholy. He makes no move to sit down and Siwon doesn’t offer. The silence is awkward between them, something it never was before. With a low sigh, Han Geng steps closer. Just when he’s almost past Siwon he places a hand on his shoulder, looking down. “I miss you.”
He slips something down on the table, next to Siwon’s clenched fingers, before he gives another pat on his shoulder and slips away.
What feels like hours later Siwon looks down, his eyes burning as he fights not to blink. A card. A name, a contact number, an email address.
When Siwon slips the card in his pocket it feels like it might just burn through the fabric.
open wide
Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi | PG | 542 words | The twins absolutely hate going to the dentist. Then again, who wouldn’t.
for nashirah, in the mpreg!verse :D you’ll get the other prompts sometime, in the futureee~ they’re so sweet my teeth hurt. …which leads me to dentists and my absolute fear for them D: I respect the profession but… no no. SCARED.
“Do not want!” The shrill sound is something that might make anyone’s ears pop, but the parents of small children all seem to have developed immunity to it. At least, enough to keep them alive and resistant even in the face of a little girl who is shrieking her lungs out, her little hands clenched into fists as she is determined to stick to her decision. “Do not want!” She emphasizes, kicking the floor for good measure.
Kyuhyun sighs, crouching down in front of Minhee. Why is he always the one who has to play the bad cop? Then again, Zhou Mi is trying to hush Cheolhyun, who is at least almost as hysterical, his lower lip quivering as he tries to hold back his tears. “Minhee,” Kyuhyun begins in his most patient listen-girl-I-am-serious tone. “You remember what we talked about? The doctor here, he has to take a look at your teeth again. Remember the tooth-baddies?”
At that, Minhee stops screeching at least and looks up at him from big, clear eyes. “The little baddies? Baddies who hide? Do bad things to toothies?” She asks, looking more concerned than she has any right to. Kyuhyun almost sighs again, trying hard to keep a straight face. It’s hard to forget the elaborate story Zhou Mi came up with about little tooth-baddies who live in your mouth and hide between your teeth to do damage to them whenever they get the chance. He isn’t sure if it’s the best way to teach the kids, but at least it gets them to brush their teeth without protests.
“Yes,” Kyuhyun nods solemnly, “those exactly. You wouldn’t want them to take over your teeth, would you?” He asks, trying to make her agree with him so they won’t need to actually tie her down on the dentist’s chair and sedate her or something. He wonders why he’s thinking of drugging his children so often, is that normal?
One can clearly see how Minhee thinks about it, her face scrunching up to a thoughtful expression. She takes her time, her cheeks still flushed and tear-streaked, but she has obviously forgotten all about crying for now. Finally, she nods. “Okay, daddy.”
“If you’re a nice girl,” Kyuhyun smiles and reaches to ruffle her hair. “The doctor might even give you a sticker. Like last time?” That, at least, the girl will definitely remember. Indeed, her eyes lighten up and she smiles widely at the prospect of some bribery.
Easily Kyuhyun scoops the girl up into his arms, straightening to look at Zhou Mi, still holding their baby boy. “So, ready to face the doom?” He asks, clearly noticing the way Cheolhyun hasn’t yet decided whether to cry or not. He dearly hopes the boy decides on no, especially when Minhee starts explaining to her brother about shiny stickers and how they will get something nice if they’re good kids.
Zhou Mi laughs. “Ready or not, here we go.” Well, at least there’s always two of them. Kyuhyun doesn’t even want to imagine how it would be to visit the dentist on his own with the twins. He reaches out and grabs Zhou Mi’s hand in his, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
Their names are called. This is it.
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