hi! quick update about writing since I've been so mia! I have been writing. I have an ao3 (penname there is also fs1919) and I spent like a month posting astro fics on there lol. but right now, I've been super busy with life, but i've been writing an astro game of thrones au and working on my wips that I have yet to update! so there's that. here's a short drabble fic I posted over on ao3 (link if you wanna read it there). thank you!!!! sorry for being so absent rip.

evil, super villain/superhero au, cha eunwoo/mj, ~2600w

“You can’t just melt Antarctica for romance, Dongmin.”

"Yes, I can. Watch me."

“You came. Thought you’d never show, Cha.” The villain, MJ, twirls Dongmin’s Death Ray in his fingers, around and around and around, to the point where Dongmin worries he’ll accidentally set it off and shoot some poor person in the foot (the poor person being Dongmin, probably, because MJ seems to have some kind of personal vendetta against Dongmin).

Dongmin ignores the way his heart jumps at the small smirk tugging at the corners of MJ’s mouth—even though MJ is wearing a small mask covering his eyes, the rest of him is, Dongmin begrudgingly admits, beautiful. His suit fits him well and there’s always a playful smirk playing on his full lips, his golden hair tousled in such a way where Dongmin always finds himself wondering why MJ never decided to become a superhero instead, rather than a villain. He certainly looked the part of a hero—small but nicely built, beautiful, angled jaw, and a villainous laugh that was far from villainous, and, frankly, the cutest thing Dongmin has ever heard. Honestly, Dongmin thinks MJ might be the worst villain in all of history—and that’s including Yoon Sanha’s short stint into villainy before he accidentally saved a pet shelter from burning down and was promptly dubbed a hero by the general public. How hard is it to perfect a scary villain laugh? That’s, like, the first thing Dongmin had worked on before deciding to become a supervillain himself.

Dongmin scowls, decides he really, really hates MJ and his stupid villain name and his stupid fascination with stealing Dongmin’s schemes and weapons from right under Dongmin’s nose. Dongmin hates having to associate himself with such a terrible rookie villain who is obviously lacking—Dongmin will never ever admit that the one thing MJ seems to be very good at, though, is the Evil Smirk and it looks really ing good on MJ. Evil kinda, sort of looks really ing good on MJ, especially now, as he twirls the Death Ray (like an idiot, because that’s dangerous), one hand cocked on his hip, and a smirk dripping off his pretty lips, an air of disrespect and constant amusement radiating off him in waves. Dongmin was voted Villain of the Year at the Annual Villain Convention all four years since he debuted as a supervillain. He is the better villain and MJ is a waste of his damn time.

(So how the hell does he manage to blindside Dongmin every damn time he steals something from Dongmin? How the hell did he manage to get in here, anyway? Dongmin’s set up a very elaborate security system made to incinerate intruders on the spot. How did MJ avoid it?)

“Well, this is my evil lair, MJ. And my Death Ray.” Dongmin grits out, jabbing a finger at the twirling gun. Dongmin can’t help it when he adds, “And last week’s art gallery robbery thing? That was my ing plan right down to the color of the getaway vehicle! And Iceland? Using the ice blaster to ice over Iceland because it’s name is a scam? That was literally written right in my notes—right there in the ing margins, you ! I’m the one who hates Iceland!”

MJ giggles and—god dammit, there’s nothing villainous about it, it’s cute, it’s cute, and Dongmin is going to lose his damn mind. “I was just borrowing it. If anything, you really shouldn’t leave your door code under the only potted plant outside.”

“You’re plagiarizing!” Dongmin bristles, ignoring the last half of the sentence, because, well, MJ wasn’t the only person who has told him that, “I should sue you for that.”

MJ drags a hand through his hair, lets out a breathy laugh, but before he can say anything, Dongmin’s main computer goes off—red sirens wailing loudly, drowning out MJ’s response.

Dongmin blinks when the giant computer screen behind MJ flashes and it’s a call from an unknown number.

MJ spins, peering up at the screen. Before Dongmin can tell MJ to put down his Death Ray and kindly off (and, also, give Dongmin back his shrink ray blueprints because, unfortunately, MJ has bothered Dongmin enough times for Dongmin to realize that MJ’s the star poster child for kleptomania), MJ promptly reaches over and answers the call, as if he has some sort of right.

(Dongmin’s seriously going to lose his damn mind, especially when MJ tilts his head as he glances over his shoulder at Dongmin, one of his brows raising in question, as if MJ hasn’t just invited himself into attending one of Dongmin’s possibly-super-important-Top-Secret conference calls.)

“Are you even allowed to be in on this? You need at least a level twenty clearance.” Dongmin mumbles while the big screen above them crackles to life.

MJ just waves his hand, dismissing Dongmin’s queries with a shrug. “I’m like a level seventy-six in League of Legends. That’s gotta count for something.”

Before Dongmin can say, no that doesn’t count for , a voice echoes all around them, static breaking up the tone occasionally, “Yoooo, what up?”

“Why are you calling me on here, Black Cat?” Dongmin rolls his eyes at the way Moon Bin grins at Dongmin through the camera, readjusting the cam so he’s at a better angle. He’s currently wearing his suit—a black cat suit that apparently chafes a lot, according to the texts Bin always sends him and the amount of baby powder he spends his money on, though Dongmin had asked once why he doesn’t just pick something else and Bin had replied it’s my aesthetic and I’ve committed, I’m not a quitter, plus I look good—and Dongmin gestures pointedly at MJ.

Bin doesn’t catch the hint, replying, “Why’re you being all formal? We’re supposed to get drinks tonight, remember? Are you going to pretend you’re upset with me so you can skip out again because that’s ed up and then I’d have to invite Rocky like last time and he can’t hold his liq—oh, hey, who’s this?”

Dongmin decides, that Moon Bin is a menace. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively between Dongmin and MJ, throwing not so discreet looks at Dongmin, as if Bin isn’t currently blown to the size of the moon on his giant mainframe computer screen. Bin also mouths, MJ, that’s MJ, right? as if MJ can’t see him mouthing it with exaggerated movements. Dongmin hates Moon Bin.

(Maybe, the reason why Dongmin had ditched Bin and his weekly drinking night last time may or may not have been because Dongmin had gotten absolutely faced and admitted that he thought MJ was ridiculously beautiful and Dongmin liked the way MJ managed to swipe things right from out under Dongmin’s nose. Dongmin may or may not have admitted to having a very tiny crush on MJ. Possibly.)

MJ, on the other hand, is straight up gaping between Dongmin and Bin, thankfully either not noticing or choosing to ignore the way Bin flails and points both pointer fingers at MJ repeatedly. He swivels, jabbing a thumb back in Bin’s general direction, “Why, exactly, are you having level twenty clearance conference calls with a superhero?”

At the same time, Bin asks, whines really, obviously playing dumb, much to Dongmin’s annoyance, “Why are you hanging out with another supervillain? Are you planning something again? You just tried to blow up the moon two days ago, Dongmin. I’m tired.”

(Dongmin ignores the urge to explain that he only tried to blow up the moon because he had a date and was trying to impress her. She wasn’t very impressed when Bin came by and foiled his plans, but Dongmin hadn’t really wanted to do it, about halfway through, when he realized she wasn’t worth blowing up the moon for anyway. Dongmin had very pointedly ignored the errant imagery of holding MJ’s hand while the moon exploded into a million pieces overhead, because that was not something he wanted to ever acknowledge. Not when he’s sober, at least.)

Dongmin frowns at the use of his real name, scowling at Bin, who hadn’t seemed to care about his slip up. His eyes are glinting and Dongmin’s seen that look before, specifically when Bin had made it his life mission to get SinB and her sidekick to date because SinB could never hide her utter infatuation regarding the other girl. Dongmin—being the petty person he absolutely loves being—replies, “Bin, meet MJ, my archnemesis. MJ, this is Bin, my ex-archnemesis.”

“Ex?” Bin shouts, indignant.

“You keep revealing my real name to random people. First, Rocky, then JJ, now MJ!”

“I did not! I do not!!”

“Rocky even knows my ing blood type! Next you’ll tell them where my secret lair is!”

“Me? Your archnemesis?” MJ purses his lips, “No thanks.”

Dongmin glances at MJ, bewildered. MJ just gives Dongmin a tiny smile that makes Dongmin’s heart skip a beat or fifty. Bin’s voice echoes between them in the silence, still so indignant, pointed, “Everyone and their grandma knows where your secret lair is. You have a giant billboard on top of it saying Eunwoo Evil Inc. There’s even a jingle that plays constantly outside the building. The police always get complaints about it.”

“No one asked you.” Dongmin calls out, though his attention is entirely focused on MJ and his stupid, pretty grin, Dongmin’s own frown deepening, “…Did you just say no thanks?”

(Dongmin feels almost…rejected. It makes him want to try and blow up the moon again. It’d make for great symbolism—since moons are pretty and romantic and also Bin’s last name is Moon. Two birds and one stone and all that.)

MJ nods, slowly, grin widening. The sight of him, leaning back against Dongmin’s mainframe computer, crossing his arms over his chest, smirk dripping from his face, leaves Dongmin a little breathless and a little sad. Dongmin might find MJ and his antics annoying, but, well, he finds that he really truly doesn’t mind MJ being his archnemesis. He actually finds he could have come to appreciate it. At least, then, there would be no random, unannounced break-ins. They’d have to coordinate face-offs, over drinks, like he does with Bin and, sometimes, Rocky and JJ. Dongmin thinks that sounds nice, really, really nice.

MJ sighs, shrugs a little, and says, “You’re kinda dumb. No offense.”

Dongmin scowls at that, and decides, yeah, he’s going to blow up the moon again. There’s a jittery feeling growing right under his skin, a restlessness. Dongmin thinks blowing up the moon sounds like an excellent idea. Dongmin turns his scowl on both MJ and Bin this time. “You know what! I was having a great day until now, so to fix it, I’ve decided I’m going to blow up the moon.”

“Again?” Bin groans, loudly. “Dude, come on, really?”

“Yes, I’m going to pretend it’s your face. Mark your calendar, Bin. Saturday, 5pm.”

“Why? You know I’ve got a date Saturday.”

“Exactly. It’s what you deserve for ruining my date a couple days ago. And last week.”

“Last week you tried melting Antarctica.”

“Because he said it was too cold.”

“You can’t just melt Antarctica for romance, Dongmin.”

"Yes, I can. Watch me."

"Dongmin!"

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. Shhhh. You're breaking up.”

“Yes, you can. You're literally just making static noises at the screen, I can se—”

Dongmin promptly hangs up on Bin.

MJ bursts into giggles, doubling over against Dongmin’s computer mainframe. His laughter is a little jarring, making Dongmin’s heart feel like it’ll burst from his chest. It rings throughout Dongmin’s secret lair, loud, so loud, but joyful and everything a villain is not, “You melted Antarctica for a date? That’s cute.”

“You gonna steal that idea, too, MJ?” Dongmin raises a brow.

MJ fiddles with Dongmin’s Death Ray, “No, the penguins don’t deserve that.”

Dongmin blinks, rapidly, “Oh, I didn’t think of the penguins.”

MJ snorts, “You’re a monster.”

“Oh, God, I am.” Dongmin feels horrible for a second. But, only a second.

“Cicadas, though? They do.”

Dongmin pauses, confused, “Huh?”

MJ’s smile is brighter than the sun as he states, nonchalant, “I don’t like cicadas. Want to get rid of them on our next date?”

Dongmin thinks his brain is short-circuiting. “Uh…our…next date?”

Dongmin will deny the fact that his voice went up about five octaves in pitch, squeaking heavily, at the last word, at date. He will deny it to his grave.

MJ grins and he swears that MJ won’t let Dongmin live that down. “See, you’re dumb.”

Dongmin splutters.

MJ laughs, “After I watch you get your whooped by Black Cat for trying to blow up the moon again, we’ll need to have another date, right?”

“I…right.” Dongmin decides to just go with it. His face is on fire and he has no idea if he’s hallucinating from inhaling too many chemicals in his lab or something. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“I hate cicadas. I like ice cream and you.”

Dongmin blinks, “Oh.”

MJ pushes himself off the console, still twirling Dongmin’s Death Ray, a truly villainous grin lighting up his golden face, mischief lighting up in all the visible parts of his face. Dongmin’s sure if he took his mask off, MJ’s eyes would be twinkling. Dongmin is a little in awe.

MJ just steps closer and closer, before he reaches out and holds out Dongmin’s Death Ray and his shrink ray blueprints—Dongmin knew it—white teeth blinding as MJ grins. Dongmin’s thoughts are a mess, jumbled up with wonderment and awe, and he’s tongue-tied, breathless, and feels like a blushing, bumbling mess, caught totally off guard.

Dongmin blinks down at the items, gaze flickering between MJ’s hand and his face.

MJ says, “You can think about it, you know.”

It’s sweet, it’s ridiculously sweet.

Dongmin really thinks he’s officially lost his mind.

Especially when he reaches over and gently pushes the gun and blueprints back into MJ’s chest, eliciting a brow furrow and slight confusion from MJ.

“Keep it.” Dongmin says, quietly, finally able to articulate his wildly running thoughts, able to pull himself together, just a bit, just enough to add, feeling more than a little breathless, “You can give it back tomorrow, at that really good ice cream place downtown.”

MJ blinks. The look on his face and the small blush blooming along the highest points of his cheek makes Dongmin break into a small smile, unable to keep his composure—Villain of the Year be damned.

“I think I’ll keep these until at least the fourth date.”

Dongmin grins. MJ pats Dongmin’s chest, grin matching his, before he saunters away, right through Dongmin’s front door.

MJ—Myungjun, Dongmin quickly learns—does not return his Death Ray or his shrink ray blueprints until their first anniversary. Dongmin finds he doesn’t mind.

(Bin is red-faced and pissed, though, when their anniversary also involved building the shrink ray together and terrorizing the masses, namely Bin, by letting Bin experience the struggle of being small for once in his privileged life. Jinwoo’s had shown up, called in to try to stop them, but he had quickly keeled over in absolute delight at the sight of a tiny, pocket-sized Bin taking a toothpick to Myungjun and Dongmin’s ankles, tiny voice screaming obscenities all the while.

Dongmin, though, couldn’t tear his eyes off Myungjun’s laughing face, his head thrown back, his face brighter than the sun, the sound of his laughter only making Bin more indignant, only filling Dongmin’s chest with so much fondness and adoration, Dongmin was afraid his chest would split in half at the sheer volume of it all.

Right then, Dongmin only had two thoughts running through his mind: evil looked so ing beautiful on Myungjun and Dongmin was absolutely in love.)