I've decided that i'm going to make blog posts with my drabbles because I have a TON of fics that I've written a couple hundred words for and never finished that I don't want to just upload as stories because they're too short, but also I don't like making a Real Drabble Series because these are all at most 700 words. So here it is! idk if I ever want to expand on some of them, especially when I have 58983948 fics I posted I haven't finished yet lol, but enjoy!

drabble #1: baekhyun/oc, uhhh what's the genre idk, drugdealer!baekhyun, based off the lyrics of born to die by lana del rey, drug use tw, 659w

"sometimes love is not enough."

"well, yeah." 

she peers up at him. he's pursing his lips, brows furrowed with concentration as he carefully rolls the blunt on the table. dark tattoos, blooming flowers, peek out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt. she catches glimpse of another tattoo right along his collarbone, hidden by the collar of his white shirt. he's sitting cross-legged and she stares at him as he darts a tongue out and the edges of the blunt, pressing it together. 

he catches her gaze, raising a single brow, "what?"

"i was expecting some sort of, like, advice...or something?"

"i'm your drug dealer, not your therapist." he snorts, lifting his hips as he digs around in his jean pocket for a lighter. she pulls out her own and tosses it at him. he easily catches it, fixing her with a boxy grin that makes her scowl deepen. "if it's any consolation, i don't believe in love. it's bull."

"you're really living up to that stoner aesthetic, huh?" she can't help the giggle, even as he lights up the blunt. 

he levels her with a dark gaze as he brings the blunt to his lip. the silver stud at his eyebrow glints dangerously as the lighter blazes to life, the end of the blunt glowing as the smell of weed hits her nostrils immediately. "it increases sales."

she finds she's laughing and he cracks another smile, one that looks out of place on him, highlighting the sharp juxtaposition between the softness of his features and the kindness in his eyes to the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt and the eyebrow and lip piercing glinting in the dim light of his apartment. he takes a couple hits before handing the blunt off to her. she lets him light up the blunt, his eyes lingering on her. 

he fiddles with the lighter, kind eyes darkening as his gaze drags over her. she's smiling as she watches him appraise her, waiting patiently for him to say something blunt (pun absolutely intended). there's something about his eyes, the way it glints with mischief, and something about the slight smirk lifting the corners of his lips, that leaves her feeling warm. or, maybe, that's just the effects of the weed kicking in. he tilts his head, ever-so-slightly to the side, and he murmurs, voice low and raspy from the hit, "the only good advice i have for you is to break up with him."

she takes another hit before handing the blunt back over to him. his pretty hands linger against hers. he stays like that, leaning forward, even as he takes another hit of the blunt. he places a chin on his palm, his shirt slipping away and exposing more tattoos, stark against his skintone. his smile drips from his pretty face and she finds that all those moments before, where she'd come by to buy some weed and he'd be shirtless or his hair would be tousled from just getting out of bed, and her thoughts would linger are coming back to hit her right in her chest, full force. she takes a deep breath, even as he exhales, a little bit of smoke drifting between them, a hazy screen of faint white that makes her heart skip a beat a little, especially when she notices the way he keeps looking at her. 

she whispers, "maybe, i will."

he ashes the blunt before placing it in her limp hands, leaning back against the couch, his legs spread, and he tilts his head, his dark eyes appraising, challenging - an invitation. she finds that she wants to climb into his lap and accept that invitation wholeheartedly. 

she doesn't. instead, she feigns innocence, repeats, "maybe."

his voice is low, raspy, as wispy as the smoke filling the room. he laughs, a short sound that's beautiful to her ears, "maybe," he repeats, tongue darting over his lips.

(she will, she knows.)

drabble 2: The Good Place AU, suho x oc, junmyeon as chidi !!!!!!!!!, 763w

A couple hours ago (does time exist here?) she opened her eyes to a pristine waiting room and bright green letters declaring, WELCOME! EVERYTHING IS FINE.

And then she had been welcomed into a room by a kind-looking, very cheery man with a bowtie and an enormous grin.

The Good Place, they called it.

"So, is this, like, heaven?" 

"Kind of? You humans could never get the concept right. Heaven? Hell? The Bermuda Triangle? It's all just point zero one percent of the truth, really."

She stared, "The Bermuda Triangle?"

"Yeah. And there's Denny's, too. Oh, man, and Arby's. That's got it's own special subset dimension in The Bad Place, let me tell you."

The Good Place, the man said, is where all the good humans go. She's dead, the man had said, murdered by a horde of shopping carts in the grocery parking lot that then knocked her straight into a speeding truck. She didn't notice the shopping carts because she was too busy trying to pick up the margarita mix she dropped. Still, the man tells her of all the good things she did in her life: the countless humanitarian relief projects, saving a stranded cat from a tree, so many things. All she could do was nod, even as he took her on a tour through the neighborhood (specially designed by him), and then to her house (her apparent dream house, fully equipped with minimalistic Icelandic furniture and clown paintings, her favorites). 

"And, we can't forget about the best part! Your soulmate!"

The door opens and a man steps in. He's handsome, in a goody-two-shoes, nerdy kind of way, his glasses thick and his sweater vest thicker. 

He smiles at her, a sweet smile, and says, "Hey, My name is Kim Junmyeon. I'm your soulmate."

He grins. 

She blinks, smiling after a moment, before going in for a hug, "Cool, bring it in, bud."

The man - was his name Michael? Minseok? She doesn't remember - claps both his hands together, still grinning, and says, "Great! I'll let you two get acquainted. There's a party tonight, I'll see you there!"

The minute the man closes the front door behind her, she turns to Kim Junmyeon, "Uh, can you keep a secret? Soulmate to soulmate."

Junmyeon looks surprised. It's adorable, in retrospect, but she's kind of freaking out. He nods, "Of course, anything. I won't tell a soul."

"I am not supposed to be here. Holy shirt, I'm not supposed to be here."

Junmyeon blinks, "Wh--"

"Did I just say shirt? I meant shirt, not shirt. Like shirt. Am I being censored? What the fork?"

"Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean by you're not supposed to be here?"

"That dude, Mitchell -"

"Minseok."

"Okay, whatever, that's not important. He told me I saved a forking cat from a forking tree. I don't even like cats."

"What?" Junmyeon blinks, totally affronted at this point, "You don't like cats?"

"That's not important!" She waves a hand at him, "They forked up. I'm not some amazing humanitarian relief person, I barely donated to my local McDonald's charity and I went there more than I'll ever care to admit. I'm not supposed to be in The Good Place."

Junmyeon's expression tightens, as if he's constipated. She wonders why it's still cute, despite everything. "Then you have to -- you have to tell Minseok the truth! It's morally wrong for you to just -"

"No, no, no." She grabs his arm, "Listen here, nerd, you promised me, soulmate to soulmate, that you wouldn't tell a soul. You can't tell anyone."

"I can't lie. It's against my ethics." Junmyeon stares at her and she can see the sweat gathering at his brow. 

"It's not lying if you don't say anything. Help me!" 

Junmyeon blinks at her as if she's just grown another head. 

"You keep talking about ethics and shirt." She waves at him, "You have a forking sweater vest on. You're a good person and as my soulmate, it's your job to help me. I don't know what The Bad Place is like, but it's called The Bad Place, so, uh, sounds bad, man. I can't have anyone finding out."

Junmyeon presses a hand to his stomach and mutters, "I'm stressed. Why am I stressed when I'm supposed to be in heaven?"

She pulls out her best puppy-dog eyes, the ones that got her out of that reckless driving ticket a few years ago. Junmyeon takes one look at it and sighs, groaning loudly as he clutches his sweater. She grins. He groans louder. 

drabble 3: cop/heist!au, irene x oc AND kyungsoo x oc, i kinda want to make this a full fic but i have too many wips lol, 700w

"won't you dance with me?" 

it's an innocent enough inquiry, but there's something about the way this girl look at her, the way her red painted lips seem to only sharpen her smile, the mask covering her eyes not lost on her. 

the woman threads her gloved fingers through her limp ones, pulling her closer until their bodies are pressed flush against each other. 

she hears jongdae in her earpiece, a low appreciative whistle, "damn, get it, seul."

she hears baekhyun laugh and kyungsoo sigh. 

the woman presses closer now, her fingers trailing down her side, landing on her hip, and she can't help but glance over her shoulder, too overwhelmed by the proximity. the woman smells of perfume, a lingering mixture of vanilla and lavender that she honestly doesn't think she'll be able to forget. she's sure that's the intended purpose of the perfume. she looks over the woman's shoulder, even as her gloved hands linger on her waist, fiddling dangerously close to the wire tap she has wired under her close. 

haseul doesn't know if the woman knows, but something at the back of her head tells her there's something very, very off about this situation. 

she looks over the woman's shoulder and she spots a head of blonde. she blinks, startled. 

it can't be him. it can't b--

she feels the cool edge of something sharp against the side of her neck. she freezes. 

the woman chuckles, low and dark, soft. she leans so close, gently lifting haseul's hair off her shoulders, "your pretty little detective is momentarily out of commision. please, stand by."

jongdae's voice is loud in her ear for one split second before it cuts off completely.

"act unnatural in any way and someone on your team is going to die, haseul." the woman's breath tickles her cheek. 

haseul shudders. the woman laughs, leaning back so she can meet haseul's eyes, and haseul can finally look down. there's a sharp, metal blade perched over one of the woman's fingers. it hovers right over haseul's neck, along a main artery. 

haseul peers at the woman's half-covered face. her red lipstick is bright against her pale skin. it takes only a moment for it to click. 

"irene." haseul all but breathes out, her heart pumping in her chest. 

"missed me, love?" irene is still grinning, but there's an edge to her tone that has haseul's chest tightening. 

"you're...you hate yoongi."

irene laughs, lowly, and the sound is so lovely, several heads turn in their direction, lingering on irene, on her little black dress and intricate black mask, her long dark hair. "it's true what they say about common enemies creating unity between friends and foes."

haseul stares, "common enemies? who?"

irene's grin stretches, "isn't it obvious, love?"

haseul's heart drops to her stomach just as irene's smile drops from her face. she presses the knife further against the skin of haseul's neck and haseul has to hold her breath to stop the slight sting of pain. 

before haseul can say another word, the whole world goes pitch black and she can hear screams all around them. 

the hands around her waist are gone and there is nothing left of the knife at her neck except for a lingering, stinging cut.

it doesn't take long for the lights to flicker back on and the painting, the one they were tasked to protect from the master thief and his crew - yoongi - is gone. all that is left is the lingering scent of vanilla and lavender.

someone catches her by the elbow and she spins, her chest heaving, only to find herself face-to-face with kyungsoo. his brows are furrowed in concern, his eyes anxious as he scans her for any injuries, his gaze lingering on the side of her neck. "are you okay?" he asks. 

she wants to say no, but she can't respond. she just nods, quickly, haltingly. kyungsoo's eyes soften significantly.