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[hazelira]

heavy little love

Heeseung sighed, adjusting his hold on his chunky little boy, who refused to sit in his car seat until you returned. The mall’s parking lot was dimly lit, neon signs flickering against the windshield, but inside the car, it was warm—filled with the scent of baby lotion and the soft coos of his son.

His tiny hands, round like dumplings, grasped at anything and everything—Heeseung’s tie, shirt collar, and even the dashboard buttons. The car was off, but his baby was still fascinated by how the buttons felt under his chubby fingers, slapping them with increasing force as if expecting a reaction.

“Hey, hey—" Heeseung chuckled, gently prying the small hand away before his son could honk the horn. "You're gonna give Mama a heart attack if you do that.”

His son merely blinked up at him, drool glistening on his bottom lip, before deciding that his dad’s face was far more interesting. Chubby's fingers reached out, grabbing at his nose, jaw, and tie again, yanking it with surprising strength.

"You're strong for someone who still needs his butt wiped every few hours, you know that?" Heeseung teased, loosening his tie slightly. His son only giggled a bubbly little sound that made Heeseung’s heartache.

He softly kissed his baby’s forehead, running his hand down to his pudgy little feet, rubbing slow circles into his silky, warm skin. His son kicked in response, wiggling his toes, watching his dad with wide eyes.

The baby bag sat in the passenger seat, slightly unzipped—bottles of milk, a few stuffed toys peeking out, sleep mittens, extra tiny socks that he somehow kept kicking off throughout the day. The thought of you packing everything so carefully before they left made Heeseung’s throat tighten.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was exhaustion. Perhaps it was the fact that you were just inside, probably scanning the menu one last time to make sure you got the order right. Or maybe it was the reality—that this was his life now. He had a little person in his arms who depended on him entirely.

“You love your mama, huh?” Heeseung murmured, watching his son keep glancing toward the door as if expecting you to walk out any second now. His tiny fingers had stopped their assault, now just resting against Heeseung’s chest, gripping onto his shirt.

Another pang in his chest.

“You make me wanna be better?” he whispered, barely audible, voice cracking slightly. “You and Mama.”

His son didn’t understand, of course. But he still looked up at his dad, eyes so bright, so full of wonder. Heeseung wished he could see himself the way his son did. Strong. Capable. Safe.

He swallowed the lump and kissed his baby’s pudgy little hands.

Just then, he saw you walking toward the car, carrying the takeout bag in both hands, scanning the lot for them.

“Look, Mama’s back,” Heeseung whispered, nudging his son slightly. The baby squealed, kicking his feet and making little grasping motions toward the window.

Heeseung smiled, rolling it down a little so you could hear.

“We missed you,” he said softly.

You slid into the passenger seat, setting the takeout bag down, only to be greeted by a sight that made you smile—Heeseung, struggling to strap your stubborn baby back into his seat.

"Come on, buddy," Heeseung grunted, trying to pry tiny fists off his shirt. "You've been with me this whole time. Just sit in your seat for a bit, yeah?"

The baby clung tighter, his big eyes glossy, as if he were about to start wailing. His bottom lip trembled, and Heeseung let out a defeated sigh, giving you a helpless look.

"Yeah, that’s not happening," you mused, biting back a laugh. "Looks like he's sticking with you tonight."

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, adjusting his seat to lean back. "Guess we’re eating like this then," he murmured, settling the baby against his chest. "Heavy little thing…" He kissed the top of his son's head, letting the baby nuzzle into him, his tiny hands pressing against his daddy’s chest to ensure he wouldn't go anywhere.

You dug into the takeout bag, unwrapping the warm containers of food. The smell filled the car, making you and Heeseung sigh in anticipation. You grabbed a piece of food with your chopsticks, bringing it up to Heeseung’s lips.

"Open," you said, holding back a teasing smile.

Heeseung raised a brow. "You’re feeding me?"

"You’re holding the baby."

Heeseung smirked slightly before leaning in and taking the bite. "Mm," he hummed in satisfaction. "You got the good stuff."

You grinned, taking a bite, but the moment you did, you noticed something—your baby boy staring up at you two with his mouth wide open as if waiting for his turn.

You choked on a laugh. "Oh my god, look at him."

Heeseung glanced down and let out a breathy chuckle. "Buddy, you can’t eat this yet," he cooed, tapping a gentle finger on the baby’s pouty lips. "Just milk for now."

The baby furrowed his brows, confused but hopeful, his mouth open. You couldn’t take it. He was too adorable.

"Here," you whispered, reaching into the baby bag and pulling out his bottle. You shook it briefly before placing the bib around his chubby neck, ensuring he was cozy against Heeseung’s chest.

Once Heeseung had a secure hold, he pressed the bottle to his son’s lips, watching as the baby latched on instantly and drank eagerly.

"There you go," Heeseung murmured, rubbing his son’s back as he fed him. The sight made your chest ache with warmth. Heeseung looked so natural like this—holding your baby close, his long fingers gently supporting the bottle, his eyes watching him with so much tenderness.

"You're a good dad," you said suddenly, almost without thinking.

Heeseung stilled for a second before glancing at you, eyes soft. He swallowed, looking like he wanted to say something, but he gave you a small, bashful smile instead.

You scooped up another bite of food and held it to his lips again. Heeseung took it without complaint, still cradling his son as he ate.

The baby sucked on his bottle contentedly, tiny fingers gripping the fabric of Heeseung's shirt. You fed Heeseung another bite, then brought the shared drink to his lips, tilting it so he could take a sip.

"You're spoiling me," he mumbled against the straw.

You shrugged. "You spoil me, too."

Heeseung smirked, chewing his food. "True."

You two ate like that—him holding your heavy little love while you made sure he was fed, sneaking in bites for yourself in between. The occasional quiet sighs of satisfaction, the baby's soft gulps of milk, the warmth of the car surrounding the three of you—it was all so simple, yet it felt like everything.

As the baby slowed down, eyes growing heavy with sleep, Heeseung chuckled.

"Guess we both got full," he whispered, kissing his son's temple. Then, turning to you, he reached out, brushing a thumb over your cheek. "Thank you."

You tilted your head slightly, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"Always."

As the last bites of dinner disappeared and you set the empty containers aside, Heeseung let out a slow, contented sigh. His hand instinctively rubbed small circles on his baby’s back, feeling his tiny chest's gentle rise and fall.

It was only when he glanced down that he realized—his little boy had dozed off, completely squished against him, his chubby cheeks smushed against his daddy’s abs like a newborn scrunch, legs tucked under his belly as if he was still curled up in the safety of your womb.

Heeseung let out a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. “Look at this guy,” he murmured. “Sleeping like he owns me.”

You leaned in, heart melting at the sight. His little fists were still gripping Heeseung’s shirt as if he feared his daddy would move. His breathing was soft and even, and his tiny lips parted slightly. His pudgy little face was entirely at ease, peaceful, and safe.

"Well," you whispered, a teasing smile playing on your lips, "he kinda does own you."

Heeseung huffed a laugh, careful not to jostle him. “Yeah, yeah.” His voice softened as he continued, “He sleeps just like you did when you were pregnant.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you remembered those nights when your belly was heavy, and your little one would shift, pressing close against anything warm. Heeseung had spent many nights tracing slow, soothing patterns over your skin, whispering soft words to the baby he couldn’t wait to meet.

And now, here he was—his mini shadow, still seeking the same comfort, still finding a home in his daddy’s warmth.

Heeseung exhaled deeply, adjusting his arms to cradle his son closer. “He’s so… tiny,” he murmured, almost to himself. “And he trusts me so much.”

Your hand found his, fingers lacing together as you gently squeezed him. "Because you're his home, Hee."

Heeseung turned to you, his eyes glimmering in the soft glow of the streetlights outside. He looked like he wanted to say something—something deep, something vulnerable—but instead, he just smiled, lifting your intertwined hands to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss against your fingers.

Outside, the world moved on—cars passing, neon lights flickering, life continuing. But inside that car, wrapped in warmth, in love, in the quiet sounds of your sleeping baby’s breaths—time stood still.

requested by anonymous

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

[luvilists]

crimson

Sunoo had always been quick, clever, and untouchable. A fox in his past life darting between the trees, his paws barely making a sound against the earth. His fur was gold when the sun kissed it, white in the winter, blending effortlessly into whatever world he inhabited. He was a trickster, laughing at the wind, unchained and free.  

And then he had died.  

The moment he had opened his eyes in this new life, crimson pooling behind them, he knew—he had been cursed. Or maybe he had been chosen. The weight of eternity settled on his shoulders like a heavy cloak, and the hunger—oh, it gnawed at him like an unrelenting whisper in his veins. A vampire. No longer light-footed, no longer untouchable. Now, he was something cold, something sharp.  

He wasn't alone.  

Jungwon had been a cat in his past life. He was quiet and observant, slipping through shadows with a grace that made him seem otherworldly. He was small but fierce, a ruler of his world, never owned by anyone, and only choosing to stay when pleased.  

But now?  

Now, they were the same.  

Jungwon sat across from him in the dim candlelight of their shared existence, his fingers curled around the edge of his sleeve, his eyes dark like a night without stars. He was still cat-like in some ways—silent, patient—but there was something else now—something jagged.  

“You’re sulking again,” Jungwon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Sunoo didn’t respond. He only stared at his reflection in the window. His once-warm skin now looked pallid, ghostly. His once-bright eyes had dulled into something unrecognizable.  

Jungwon sighed. “Is it the hunger?”  

Sunoo let out a hollow laugh. “It’s always the hunger.”  

The fox inside him still wanted to run. It wanted to feel the wind against its face, to laugh and play, to belong to no one and nothing. But the vampire in him was shackled to the night, to the thirst, to the knowledge that he could never return to the life he had before.  

Jungwon understood. Of course, he did. They had both been turned against their will. They had both lost something irreplaceable.  

But unlike Sunoo, Jungwon had accepted it.  

“I used to sleep in the sun,” Jungwon said softly, his gaze distant. “I would stretch out on rooftops, feeling warmth seep into my bones. I was happy.” His fingers twitched. “Now, I’ll burn if I try.”  

Sunoo swallowed. He knew that feeling too well.  

“Sometimes, I dream of running,” he admitted. “Running until I can’t feel this body anymore. But no matter how far I go, the hunger always follows.”  

Jungwon’s lips pressed together. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he reached out, hesitating before finally resting his cool fingers over Sunoo’s shoulders. The contact was light but grounding.  

“We can’t change what we are,” Jungwon said. “But we can decide how we live with it.”  

Sunoo clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue, to say that it wasn’t that simple. That it would never be that simple. But then he looked at Jungwon—how his friend’s eyes, once so unreadable, softened just for him.  

They had both lost their past lives. Their warmth, their freedom.  

But they still had each other.  

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Sunoo exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching under Jungwon’s cool touch. It wasn’t warmth—nothing ever felt warm anymore—but it was something. A presence. A reminder that he wasn’t alone in this eternal night.

Jungwon had always been steady, even when they were different creatures. A cat is observing from the shadows and calculating before pouncing. Sunoo had been the opposite—reckless, playful, slipping through fingers like smoke. Now, those roles are blurred. They were trapped in the same hunger, fighting the same curse.

“I hate it,” Sunoo muttered.

Jungwon didn’t ask what. He already knew.

Sunoo turned his hand palm up, looking at the skin stretched too perfectly over his bones. It used to flush with warmth, but now, it was like glass—pale and unfeeling. He dug his nails into his palm to feel something, but the pain was dull now.

“I used to feel alive,” he whispered. “Now it’s like… I’m just pretending. Pretending to be human. Pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Jungwon’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly—not painful, but firm. “You’re still you.”

Sunoo laughed, but it was hollow. “Am I?”

Jungwon’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. A reminder of what they were—a reminder of the blood that ran through their veins—stolen, never their own.

“You’re still the same Sunoo hyung who never stops talking when you're excited,” Jungwon said, his voice steady. “The same hyung who pouts when he doesn’t get his way. The same hyung who—” He hesitated, his fingers curling slightly. “—who laughs like you never known sadness, even though you had.”

Sunoo swallowed. His throat felt tight, an unfamiliar sensation for someone who no longer needed air.

“But I have known sadness,” he murmured. “I know it every time I wake up. Whenever I open my eyes, I realize the sun will never touch my skin again.”

Jungwon’s expression darkened, but he didn’t let go.

“I know,” he said softly. “I miss it too.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, heavy but not suffocating. They had learned to live in it, to exist in the quiet spaces where words weren’t enough.

Then, Sunoo sighed, tilting his head slightly, studying Jungwon’s face.

“You never break,” he said. It wasn’t a question—it was an observation.

Jungwon blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You always hold everything together. Like it doesn’t affect you.”

Jungwon’s lips pressed together. Then, he turned his gaze toward the window, toward the night sky that stretched endlessly beyond the glass.

“I break,” he admitted so quietly that Sunoo almost missed it. “I just don’t let it show.”

The confession settled between them like mist, clinging to their skin.

Sunoo watched him, this boy who had once been a cat, who had once basked in the sunlight without fear. Now, his nights were spent watching over people like Sunoo, holding them together even as he unravelled in silence.

Slowly, Sunoo leaned his head against Jungwon’s shoulder. It was an old habit from their past life, something instinctive. Foxes and cats weren’t meant to be companions but had found each other.

Jungwon tensed for only a second before relaxing. He didn’t pull away.

“We’re cursed, aren’t we?” Sunoo murmured.

Jungwon hummed in response. “Maybe.”

Sunoo closed his eyes. “Then let’s be cursed together.”

A small smile ghosted Jungwon’s lips.

“Always.”

mention: @heavenki

[sunsburns]

text messages with bob!

author’s note: these are based on the plot of the complete knock, i mean you can enjoy these without reading it, but you’d find it more enjoyable after you understand the relationship between the reader and bob lol

[chipthekeeper]

Vel on Yavin looking miserable

[llovelymoonn]

my favourite faye wei wei paintings

little blue bird from the pillow flew (2020) \\ first i must clean the keys of the piano with milk (2022) \\ the black bells of a distant new mexico (2023) \\ an echo trapped forever (2023) \\ sweet velvet flower there is no time/ I ask to go back I wish you were mine (2021) \\ two butterfly lovers (2021) \\ untitled (2022) \\ nectar for honey (2021) \\ red i (2022) \\ fountain lies the sun (2017)

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[rafeys-baby]

Hi! Can i pls request a rafe fic where the reader is obviously interested in him but he thinks he doesn’t like her back so he tries to avoid her. But once the reader tries to move on, rafe finally realizes his feelings for her.

No worries if you don’t want to or if you aren’t comfy! Thanks girly 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬’ 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 ౨ৎ

It started when you were sixteen. He’d lost his temper at a party—some stupid fight with a Kook kid who bumped into Sarah—and stormed off down the beach. Everyone else stayed behind, pretending they didn’t see the way he cracked a beer bottle against a rock like he was trying to shatter something deeper than glass. You followed him without thinking, barefoot in the dark, your sweater slipping off one shoulder.

He didn’t say a word when you sat next to him, just stared out at the water with his jaw clenched tight and his fists red from impact. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t try to fix it. You just sat there, quiet and steady, and that was enough. When he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn’t ask what “this” was. You just said, “You don’t have to be alone.”

And he looked at you really looked at you for the first time.

After that, something shifted. You weren’t just Sarah’s friend anymore. You weren’t just another Kildare girl in the background. You were his. Not in the way that mattered, not in the way you wanted but in the way that he’d pull you away from a crowd with his hand around your wrist, or drop his head on your shoulder after a long day like he couldn’t breathe without your silence.

Everyone else saw it. You were obvious. Too obvious. You were the one who remembered how he took his coffee, who brought him Advil when he’d been up all night, who held your breath every time he touched you, hoping stupidly, always that maybe this time, he’d feel it too.

And he knew. Of course he knew. How could he not?

Rafe Cameron wasn’t dumb. He saw the way your eyes followed him when he wasn’t looking, the way your voice softened when you said his name. He leaned into it. Used it. Let you be his lifeline without ever reaching for yours.

And you let him.

Because you thought, maybe, if you just stayed long enough if you loved him hard enough, patiently enough he’d choose you back.

But he never did.

Not really.

It was little things. The way he’d call you “sweetheart” in front of other girls, just to watch you squirm. The way he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder when he was high, head lolling against yours, whispering, “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” like it meant something. Like it wasn’t a leash.

You never talked about it. You never dared to. Because talking about it would make it real, and if it was real, then you’d have to face the fact that he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. That he never would.

So you stayed. You stayed and watched him flirt with girls at The Wreck, watched him disappear into bedrooms at parties and come back rumpled and smug. You stayed through the highs and lows and bruised knuckles, the way he pulled you close and pushed you away in the same breath.

The night he slept with that girl from the country club, you didn’t cry. You smiled at him like it didn’t break you. He leaned against the counter, shirtless, beer in hand, and said, “You good?”

You nodded. “Always.”

He grinned. “Knew you were tough.”

And you wanted to scream. You wanted to shake him and ask what the hell you were supposed to do with all this love, this aching mess of devotion that he kept pocketing like spare change. But you didn’t.

You just went home, washed your face, and promised yourself you were done waiting.

You weren’t. Not really.

But you wanted to be.

People started noticing. Sarah, mostly. She watched you closely, like she was waiting for something to snap. She stopped defending her brother around you. Stopped telling you “maybe he’ll come around.” Even she had given up on him.

The real fracture didn’t come until you met Aaron.

You didn’t even like him at first. He was too polite, too clean-cut. Nothing like Rafe. But he liked you. Earnestly, without games. He texted you good morning. He didn’t flinch when you got quiet. He asked what you wanted instead of assuming he knew. And when he looked at you, there was no question in it.

The first time he kissed you, your heart didn’t race. It was calm. Like the tide.

You didn’t tell Rafe. But of course, he found out.

And he didn’t say anything not at first. He just looked at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t think had pieces. He started showing up more. Sitting next to you at parties again. Standing too close in the kitchen. You caught him staring, once, when you laughed at something Aaron said. Like he couldn’t believe you were smiling at someone else.

Then came the night he cornered you on the porch.

You could smell the whiskey on him, see the anger in his eyes unspoken, coiled tight like a storm about to break.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Aaron. He’s a fucking placeholder.”

Your chest tightened. “Don’t do that.”

He stepped closer. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

“No, Rafe,” you said, voice low and shaking. “You do see it. You’ve always seen it.”

He froze.

“And you used it,” you said. “You let me love you, let me drown in it, and you never once gave anything back.”

“That’s not—”

“It is. And now that I’m finally trying to move on, you’re what jealous?”

“I never asked for any of it.”

That hit harder than you thought it would.

Your throat closed up. You stepped back. “Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s the worst part.”

You walked away before he could see you cry.

He didn’t follow.

And for the first time, he stayed gone.

You didn’t go home that night. Not right away. You drove to the old marina instead, the one no one used anymorejust sat in your car staring out at the docks, letting the silence press against your ribs until you felt like you could breathe again. You weren’t even crying. Not really. Just tired. Hollowed out. There was nothing left to give. Not to him.

You’d said everything. And he’d still let you walk away.

But what you didn’t know what you couldn’t have known was that Rafe hadn’t moved from that porch. He’d watched you disappear into the dark like he always did, like he’d always let you, and for once, the silence didn’t settle. It screamed.

He stood there a long time, trying to find someone else to blame. You. Aaron. Himself. But it all circled back to the same thing: you had loved him completely, and he had treated it like it was always going to be there. Like you were always going to be there.

And now you weren’t.

And it hit him, suddenly, violently, that he couldn’t live with that.

So he did something he never did.

He ran.

Didn’t think. Didn’t grab a jacket. Just grabbed the ring.

It had been sitting in his drawer for years his mom’s. He used to take it out when he was younger, hold it in his hand and imagine what she’d say if she were still around. He’d kept it hidden because he didn’t believe in the kind of love it was meant for.

But he believed in you.

He drove like a man possessed. Called Sarah in a panic when you didn’t answer your phone. She told him you had a place you always went when you needed to be alone. The docks.

And when he got there, he didn’t even wait to catch his breath. Just threw the door open and walked straight to your window, knocked onc hard, like his life depended on it.

You flinched, wiped your eyes out of instinct, even though you didn’t know you were crying. When you saw him, your stomach dropped. “What the hell”

“I love you,” he said before you could finish. His voice cracked right down the middle.

You froze.

He stepped closer to the car, face pale, rain soaking through his shirt now, but he didn’t care. “I love you,” he said again, louder this time, like if he didn’t say it now, he never would.

You swallowed hard. “Don’t”

“I know I don’t deserve to say that,” he went on. “I know I used you. I know I hurt you. But I need you to hear me anyway. Because it’s true.”

You sat there, stunned. Everything inside you still felt like it was bleeding.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen,” he said. “I was just too much of a coward to say it. Because you’re the only thing in my life that ever made sense. And I was afraid that if I touched it if I said it out loud I’d ruin it.”

Your hands were shaking.

“I never thought I was good enough,” he whispered. “So I just… took what you gave and tried not to ask for more. But I want more. I want everything, and I swear to God I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

You opened the door slowly. Stepped out onto the gravel.

And he was already reaching into his pocket.

He held out the small box familiar, scuffed, something old and private.

“This was my mom’s,” he said. “She left it to me. I never thought I’d give it to anyone. But it’s yours. If you want it.”

You looked at him at the rain in his hair, the fear in his eyes, the way his hand trembled around the box and your chest cracked open in a way that didn’t hurt anymore.

You stepped into him, wrapped your arms around his neck, and said, “I’ve wanted you to say that for so long.”

His arms were around you in a heartbeat, holding you like something fragile he was terrified to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he whispered into your hair. “I swear.”

You pulled back just enough to press your forehead to his. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” he said. “Not again.”

And when he slid the ring onto your finger, it didn’t feel like a promise.

It felt like home.

[fvaleraye]

honestly, we weren't sure how we were going to feel if Sancho decided to be Don Quixote again while waiting for part 3. but we think it was handled really well. because it's less that she "became" Don again, and more that she has reconciled the cynic and idealist in her. Don is less of a separate person, and more of an idea now. the idea that sometimes, in this dark and dreary world, you need a little bit of juvenile excitement. a bit of wonder. sometimes you just need to give a shit about things that nobody else will. and bring just a little good energy to the situation. she's still Don Quixote, but she's not not Sancho. the sinners all coming together and saying how much they truly cared for Don, despite not doing such a great job of that before, Dante realizing that they don't have to offer her a dream, moreso just a reason to keep going, the fact that Sancho and La Manchaland's Don Quixote, despite ending their last meeting ending in a fight, still held genuine love and respect for each other. because they were family, and they did care at the end of it all. the realization Don Quixote at the end of his long painful life that Sancho, essentially his daughter, has people who care about her, and it has molded her into someone better than her instincts as a bloodfiend, an ideal he held for so long. the canto is about love, we think. and how love can, against all odds, change someone for the better. at least, that's our view of it.

[d2071art]

Just wanted to let you know that you pissed off that spikejulia person so badly with that SpikeFaye wedding pic that they ran to their commission artist to copy the exact pose lol

I think their user is lucyguusi

Well, what can I say? I'm sorry to hear that 😏

[fayes-fics]

#15 please 🙏🙏🙏 and maybe #29 if the inspiration strikes you 😘

Trembling Hands & Sweat

Nov 2024 MicroFics Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Authors Note: Hi, my lovely! 🫶 Well, I woke up and wrote porn on a Sunday morning. It's a life... I guess? Under the cut. Enjoy! 😁🧡🧡

Your trembling hands reach down and grasp his broad shoulders, needing an anchor to tether yourself as you spiral so high you can barely breathe. You never knew this sort of pleasure existed.

All you can see as you glance down over your dress rucked up around your stomach is his chestnut hair, glowing with almost coppery highlights in the blazing summer sun. His mouth is so hot and wet, suctioned onto your body.

A trickle of sweat drips from his temple onto the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he pushes your legs out wider, wrapping his arms around your hips, hauling you further onto his face, his questing tongue causing a spike of pleasure so intense it makes you cry out, your back arching off the lush grass.

“Shh,” he chastises over a laugh, resonating into your soaked flesh.

“I-I cannot be quiet,” you confess, stuttering, meeting his gaze as he tilts his head to look up at you, handsome face glazed and framed by your naked thighs.

“Then I shall desist…” he warns, his eyes glittering with mischief, as you curl your lip under your teeth, looking contrite, not wanting anything to interrupt this. He chuckles: “That’s better. After all, I would hate for your family to find out just how familiar we are prior to marriage, my darling fiancé…”

No taglist as these are microfics

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro-story using the word or phrase [not open to more]

[manicpixelwench]

What do you think about angry love confessions in heavy rain?😮‍💨

Like this?

[hazelira]

just like dada

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

The early spring sun filters in through the nursery window, casting golden light bars across the hardwood floor where toy dinosaurs and mismatched socks wage silent wars. Heeseung leans in the doorway, arms crossed, a fond half-smile tugging at his lips.

His son, a quiet little boy with sleepy doe eyes and a soft tuft of brown hair that never quite listens, sits in the center of the mess, legs folded beneath him like a polite little prince. He’s humming—barely audible, but there—and carefully plucking at the strings of Heeseung’s old acoustic guitar. The one Heeseung left leaning in the corner three days ago, forgotten after a late-night writing session.

Heeseung’s heart stumbles.

He’s four—too small for the guitar to sit correctly in his lap. It rests clumsily against him, swallowing his frame. But he’s focused. Serious. Eyes narrowed just like Heeseung’s do when he’s lost in music.

And suddenly, the air shifts.

Heeseung always sulked mostly in teasing, sometimes in truth about how their son is a perfect little clone of you—your quiet laugh, cautious gentleness, and tendency to hide behind legs and peek around corners instead of diving straight in. Their boy who prefers books to balls, cuddles to chaos, clings to your side like the moon to the tide.

“He’s yours, through and through,” Heeseung would pout dramatically, watching you both from across the room. “Did I even help make him?”

You’d laugh. “Of course you did, Hee. You gave him those bambi eyes. And that pouty mouth.”

He’d grumble, pretending that wasn’t enough.

But now, standing in this soft-lit room, Heeseung watches his boy poke experimentally at the guitar again, his little brow furrowed, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth in pure concentration—a trait he got from Heeseung—and something cracks open in his chest.

Maybe he’s not just yours.

Maybe he’s been his, too, all along.

Quiet footsteps bring him into the room. He kneels beside him, careful not to startle him. “Hey, buddy.”

The boy flinches a little. He is still shy, even with his own daddy. Heeseung doesn’t take it personally. He smiles, gentle and slow.

“You like Daddy’s guitar?”

The boy nods, small and quick.

“You wanna learn how to play it someday?”

A long pause. Then a tiny, whispered, “Mhm.”

Heeseung’s breath catches. He bites his cheek to keep from tearing up like a fool. He slides an arm around his little boy and pulls him close, the guitar forgotten between them.

“You know,” Heeseung murmurs into his son’s hair, “I used to be good at basketball too, when I was younger.”

“I know,” the boy whispers back, muffled against his shirt.

Heeseung chuckles, rubbing his back. “You like basketball?”

Another nod. More confident this time.

“We could shoot around sometime,” he offers, voice light but hopeful. “You and me. Just us.”

His son peeks up at him, eyes wide and shining. “Like you did with Uncle Jay?”

Heeseung nods, heart aching in the best way. “Exactly like that.”

A beat of silence stretches between them. Then, tiny arms wrap around Heeseung’s neck, and that’s it. He’s gone. Completely ruined by this little version of himself, he didn’t even realize he had been there all along.

“You are my kid,” Heeseung says against his son’s hair. “You’re just… the best parts.”

Later, you say nothing when you find them in the living room—your son curled into Heeseung’s side, giggling as he fumbles with chords on the guitar, and Heeseung beaming like the sun itself.

You smile.

Because you always knew.

And now, finally, so does Heeseung.

requested by @jksmilkshake

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

[luvilists]

the way we left it

It was in the silence that Heeseung found the most comfort—not the loud screams of the crowd, not the blinding lights of the stage, but the silence between them—the distance they had learned to maintain.

On the surface, everything was perfect. Their friendship was the envy of their fans, the kind of bond everyone looked up to and admired. They were brothers and companions, the kind of friendship that didn’t need words to be understood. But what did the world know about them beyond the stage? What did the fans know about the unsaid moments that weren’t meant to be shared?

Heeseung leaned against the back wall of the practice room, his gaze flickering across the floor as he heard Sunoo’s voice rise in the distance, laughing with the others, his tone light and carefree. There was a time when Heeseung would have joined him in that laughter when he would have leaned in, whispered something silly, or just listened. But now, Sunoo's voice, the vibrancy of his laughter, left a knot in Heeseung’s chest. Everyone naturally loved Sunoo and how people always surrounded him—sometimes, it made Heeseung feel like he was fading into the background, like a shadow just out of reach.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Heeseung had promised himself that he wouldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t let their friendship be overshadowed by the pressures of the industry, the rumours, and the expectations placed on them like weighty chains. But it did.

From the moment they’d stepped into I-LAND, something was magnetic between them. Fans had latched onto it—those shared looks, those quiet moments when only they understood each other. Heeseung remembered the early days of the show. Sunoo had always been there, a steady presence, a hand reaching out to him when everything felt too heavy. They had each other’s backs, always. But the farther they went, the more everything started to change.

Heeseung’s heart sank as he recalled how Sunoo had given him a small but genuine smile just a few months ago after a particularly gruelling rehearsal. It wasn’t the flashy smile he gave to the cameras or the fans, but something raw, something real. Sunoo had said, "I’m glad you’re here."

It meant everything to Heeseung, but it also terrified him. Because ever since that moment, the space between them had only grown. And it wasn’t the kind of space that could be filled with words, gestures, or even those quiet moments where only they existed. No, it was the kind of space that cut through the silence between them, like an invisible wall neither wanted to acknowledge.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Sunoo’s voice cut through Heeseung’s thoughts, his presence a familiar warmth beside him.

Heeseung blinked, startled by the sudden closeness. Sunoo had always had this way of slipping into his personal space without Heeseung even noticing. But today, it felt different—strained, like something was shifting in the air between them.

“Yeah, just... thinking,” Heeseung replied, his voice low, distant.

Sunoo tilted his head slightly, studying him. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “You’ve been quiet lately,” Sunoo said softly. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked down at the floor, trying to find the words. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to release. But every time he tried to, it got tangled in the fear of ruining everything: their friendship, their bond—the one thing that had kept him grounded through all this madness. But lately, it felt like they were drifting.

“I don’t know,” Heeseung whispered. “It’s like... everything is changing. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Sunoo was silent for a long moment, and Heeseung could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, Sunoo spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s okay to feel that way, you know. We’re... we’re still figuring it out.”

Heeseung let out a breath, not realizing he had been holding it in. “But it’s not just that. It’s the way things feel... forced now. We have to act a certain way for the cameras, fans, and everyone else. But when we’re not performing, when the lights are off... we’re just... two people who can’t even be themselves.”

Sunoo’s expression softened. “We’ve always been like this, haven’t we? Always in the background, always supporting each other quietly. But... maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re fine with it. I don’t know what’s going on either, Heeseung. But I do know this... you’re still my number one."

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the words. 'You’re still my number one.' It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was everything he needed to hear.

But still, there was a part of him that knew this was more than just a quiet moment between two friends. There was something unspoken, something they both understood but couldn’t voice. The company, the fans, the expectations had become too much for them to bear.

The room was still, save for their quiet breaths. Sunoo’s gaze lingered on Heeseung, and neither spoke for a long moment. Their silence was heavy, but it was the kind of silence between two people who understood each other completely without needing to explain anything.

Suddenly, Heeseung stood, moving closer to Sunoo. He didn’t know what drove him to act on instinct—maybe it was the hurt that had built up inside him or the aching need for something real. Without a word, he pulled Sunoo into a tight hug.

Sunoo initially froze, surprised, but then he relaxed into the embrace. They held each other for a long, quiet moment, and they shared warmth between them, saying everything that words couldn’t.

Heeseung buried his face into Sunoo’s shoulder, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “I don’t want to lose what we have. I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Sunoo’s arms tightened under his, his voice soft but steady. “You won’t. You’re stuck with me, Heeseung. Always.”

But even in the comfort of that embrace, Heeseung couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, the world outside would continue to pull them in opposite directions. The lines, the cameras, and the expectations would always create walls between them, walls they couldn’t tear down no matter how hard they tried.

Still, for that one fleeting moment, Heeseung let himself believe that maybe their friendship could survive the chaos. That despite everything, they would always find their way back to each other.

Because, in the end, that was all that mattered.

The fans may never know what happened between them, and the world may never understand the complexities of their bond. But for Heeseung and Sunoo, there was a quiet understanding in the space between them—a promise that no matter the distance or chaos around them, they would always find each other again.

[sunsburns]

i've been thinking abt joaquin's smile all day. he has these small little canines that drive me insane he has such a blinding smile i need him to bite me NEOWWWW

well yes!!! i wanna have his bite marks all over me!!

it starts with his smile. it always does. the one that makes your stomach flip before your brain can even catch up.

joaquín torres grins like he’s never known a bad day in his life, like the whole world is just one big inside joke that only he gets, and for some reason, he’s decided to let you in on it. it’s bright and easy, a little lopsided, all teeth—all easy charm and boyish.

it should not affect you the way it does.

joaquín grins with his whole face, like he can’t help himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his dimples cutting deep. but it’s the way his lips curl just a little wider, letting those sharp little canines peek through—that’s what does it for you.

and he knows it.

he sees the way you hesitate. how your gaze flickers, just for a second, a fraction too long on his mouth before you catch yourself.

the second he notices, it’s over.

“you’re staring,” joaquín sing-songs, swaying slightly as he leans into your space, his grin widening.

“i’m not.”

“you so are.” his head tilts, studying you, his grin taking on that smug little edge. and then—then his brows raise, realization dawning. “wait, wait—are you looking at my teeth?”

“no.”

“oh my god,” Joaquín laughs, voice a little breathless, like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. “you are. you like them.”

he sounds so delighted by the discovery that it makes you mad.

“no, i don’t—”

he gasps “you so do.”

“i literally never said that.”

“but you didn’t deny it.”

you open your mouth, ready to argue, but the way he smiles at you? it knocks the words right out of your throat.

because it’s different now.

not just playful—calculated. there’s a slow kind of teasing in the way his lips pull back, like he’s showing you on purpose, like he’s letting you look.

and that—that is what does it.

you panic.

“what, you think i have some weird vampire kink or something?”

joaquín snorts, shaking his head. “nah, i just think you like when I do this—”

before you can react, he dips down, nosing against your shoulder before he bites.

it’s not a real bite—just a quick, teasing nip against your shoulder, nothing more than the press of his teeth against your skin. but it lingers—just enough to send a sharp little shiver rolling through you, to make your breath hitch.

he laughs when he feels it.

it’s quiet, breathy, a little pleased, his lips brushing against the spot where his teeth just were, like he’s savoring the reaction.

when he finally pulls back, there’s nothing but mischief in his gaze. his hands stuffed in his pockets, head tilting just slightly to the side as he watches you with something too smug, too knowing.

“see?” joaquín murmurs, voice warm, teasing. “shut you up real quick, didn’t i?”

and you should be annoyed. you should push him off and roll your eyes and tell him to stop being so full of himself.

but instead, your fingers tighten in his shirt, and the only thing you can think about is how much you wouldn’t mind if he did it again.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

Draw this in your style! 🩷

It’s finally done! thanks again for 1K!! 💖

rules under the cut 💕

choose any character(s) from my version and draw them together with your own faves! Draw as many or as few characters as you want. Even just one is okay! Do whatever makes you happy.

Feel free to change up outfits and poses, as well as the background and perspective.

Anyone can join, all skill levels are welcome, and don’t forget to @ me with your finished piece so I can see! I can’t wait to see what you all come up with :D

Above all, have fun! 💕

[pennotfound]

your dnf baby/gregnancy snippets 🥹

dream would be soooo attentive towards gnf when he reveals the pregnancy, treating him like he hung the moon

(Read part one here)

"I'm pregnant," George said, eyes misty with unshed tears as he rubbed a thumb across Dream's cheek.

The words rang in Dream's ears like a symphony - a beautiful, perfect melody that lifted his heart until he felt like it would pull him up through the ceiling, up among the clouds to soar with the birds.

Once the words finally settled, though, and his heart drifted back to earth, reality settled in.

Pregnant.

George.

With his baby.

Their baby.

"Really?" he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "You're sure?"

"No," George sassed with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. "I just thought it would be fun to pee on a stick and see what happened. Of course I'm sure, you idiot. I'm going to have a baby. Your baby. Probably around your birthday if my counting is right, although the doctor will know for sure and -"

Dream couldn't help himself, cutting off George's rambling with a tender kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much," Dream whispered into the small space between them after he pulled away - a space that held not just two heartbeats, but three. "Do you have any idea how happy you've made me?"

"Oh, I have an idea," George replied, chasing Dream's kiss with one of his own.

"So, you're," Dream lifted his hand to count on his fingers. "Six weeks along then?"

"Closer to eight, I think," George shrugged. "Although the doctor will know for sure. I have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow."

"And I'm taking you," Dream kissed him again, then trailed his hands down to rest on the sides of George's waist. He rubbed his thumbs across George's belly, still flat but not for long.

He couldn't wait to see that beautiful little bump - proof of the life they'd created between them.

"You know," George looked at him fondly, then covered Dream's hands with his own. "I'm probably going to be even more annoying for the next few months, what with morning sickness and pregnancy cravings and all. Are you ready for that?"

"Am I ready for that?" Dream pulled one hand away from George's belly and pressed over George's cheek. "Of course I'm ready! I mean, I might have to read up on a few things but I know some stuff from when my sister was pregnant. Like you'll need antacids. And crackers. And extra pillows to elevate your head for the first trimester so your heartburn isn't so bad, and whatever kind of food you crave, I'll get it for you."

"Even if it's pickles and ice cream?"

"Even if it's pickles and ice cream," Dream repeated, leaning in to kiss him once more. "You're carrying our child, George. And the next nine months I'm going to pamper you - both of you - like crazy."

"Well in that case," George mumbled against Dream's lips, then reluctantly pulled away. "I do have one request."

"Okay," Dream sat up on the bed, ready for whatever task George gave him. "What d'you want?"

He definitely wasn't prepared, though, for what happened next.

With flushed cheeks, George reached into the pocket of his pajama pants and pulled out - a ring?

"I know you probably wanted to do this, and you still can if you want," George said. "But I've been meaning to ask you for a while, even before I got pregnant, and now, it just feels right."

"George," Dream gasped as he looked at the ring pinched between George's shaking fingers. A simple gold band adorned with a row of tiny diamonds.

"Dream, will you marry me?"

Dream thought he couldn't be happier with the news of George's pregnancy, but this? This sent him to the moon and back.

"Yes," Dream nodded his head in excitement as George slipped the ring on his finger. "Of course I'll marry you!"

"Good then," George pulled him in for one more kiss, one that Dream sank further into with each passing second. A pregnancy and a proposal? This was the happiest day of his life.

"Anything else you wanted?" Dream asked.

"Just some more cuddles and kisses," George snuggled into Dream. "And maybe some apple slices later."

"You got it," he tipped his head and placed a lingering kiss on the top of George's head. "I love you, George."

"And I love you too," George sighed against him, and with that sigh pulled Dream into dreamland with him. "I love you too."

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hey! RSV bachelor's/bachelorette when jealous please??

Sure thing :3

I didn't know, dear anon, whether you meant jealousy romantic or any other kind, so I stayed on the romantic. Also since there are hints in the mod about the relationships of some of the candidates (Paula/Anton, Zayne/Irene, etc.), some headcanons will list the candidates' partner as Farmer and others will be neutral. Hope it's ok! Thank you for your ask! 💕

_________________________________________

RSV bachelors/ettes when they're jealous:

If Jio had the ability to sizzle anyone he didn't like or those who let themselves get too much with his lover, there would be a whole circle of ashes around Farmer of all those losers. He has his trusty katana, though... Not that the elf doubts his partner's fidelity, it's just that sometimes they don't realize they're being flirted with. And Jio sees everything. He'll be a bit possessive near Farmer.

No, Corine won't keep quiet about the jealous feelings that have arisen. If something doesn't suit her, she points it out to Farmer directly, without all these games and guesses. She's not the jealous type, but she won't stand for boundaries being violated either by Farmer's interlocutor or by Farmer themself.

Despite all the Amethyst family drama throughout Zayne's life, with jealousy, cheating, and other not-so-nice things (thanks to his parents for a "happy" childhood), the future head of the family himself, fortunately, has not adopted all of this into his worldview about relationship with his partner. He doesn't feel jealous, trusts his partner, and believes that if someone is worried about something, they should share their problems with each other, because healthy relationships are built on honesty and communication.

Faye won't act directly, but she won't miss the opportunity to make passive-aggressive comments and snort in the direction of someone who allows themself to cross the line with her partner. That's the kind of nerve it takes to pry into a taken person's life, especially when she's standing right next to them! Her jealousy, however, Faye will deny if caught off guard with the question.

Anton is afraid. Afraid that he is not good enough for his partner, as his self-esteem has been low lately, to say the least. He's gotten it into his head that he's a total loser and still doesn't understand what his partner saw in him. Won't say his fears out loud, but will start constantly questioning if his partner really loves him and if he's good enough for them.

June, when jealous, stands away from people and starts smoking more than he should, as it helps him to distract himself a little bit from his negative thoughts. This is bad for his health, and Farmer can immediately notice it, to which June will not hide his jealousy. But then he'll apologize and admit that he should have shared his worries with his partner instead of withdrawing and soaking himself in tobacco smoke.

Blair's feelings of jealousy toward Farmer manifest themselves in a huge desire to prank the person who is flirting with her partner. The fisherwoman usually only restrains herself with her mischievous thoughts, as she doesn't want Farmer to think she is jealous and controlling. But if anything, she has stink bombs and itching powder at the ready. Don't mess with her and with Farmer.

Oh, Daia want to teach the cheeky one who's messing with her Farmer a lesson, and have some fun in the process. The ninja will appear out of nowhere, and immediately start flirting with Farmer, giving them a quick kiss on the cheek, putting a hand on their shoulders or waist, saying "I missed you so much, love~ Oh, who's this, your friend? Nice to meet you~" More often than not, the "suitors" will back off. If not - she has shurikens and a katana for those stubborn ones.

When feeling jealous, Shiro will stare silently and glare, but will not share his worries aloud. He already feels like a burden to the family because of his injuries, and that includes his relationship with Farmer. Somewhere inside his head there's a voice saying he's not good enough for Farmer and what they've ever found in him, a cripple. It's not true, but until Shiro voices his thoughts, he's going to think that way all the time when someone tries to hit on Farmer.

Poor Alissa... The girl only once saw some tourist trying to flirt with Farmer (to which they said they were taken btw), and that was enough for her to feel insecure. She realizes it's a stupid and irrational thought, but still.... What if she's not enough for them? Alissa will try to be with Farmer more often for fear of losing them.

Sean is not a jealous person, and doesn't see Farmer's friends and acquaintances as a threat to his and his partner's relationship. On the contrary, new friends, that's neat! Naturally, if someone starts openly flirting or hitting on his partner, the man will remind him that Farmer is already taken. Otherwise, he trusts them and doesn't feel jealous.

As the Governor's bodyguard, Bryle has excellent situational awareness, quickly recognizing threats and people's behavior. He can see both his partner's body language and the body language of the person his partner is talking to from afar, so if someone does start to do wrong moves, all Bryle has to do is stand next to his partner. After all, by having Bryle, they also have the 'scary dog' privilege. Bryle is confident enough in himself and his partner, so not jealous.

The jealousy takes Ian by surprise, as he hasn't felt anything like it before. It was hard for him to know if that person was trying to hit on Farmer or if it was just a casual conversation and he wouldn't want to chop off his shoulder and throw accusations. But if the feeling of jealousy arose again, he'd be blunt about it.

"Maddie, you-" "No, I'm not jealous!" "...want some blueberry pie?" Oh boy, because of the betrayal and pain of her past relationship, Maddie still has insecurities about herself and suspicion of her current partner's loyalty. The lab assistant is well aware that these are irrational thoughts underwritten by low self-esteem, making her angry with herself and, most unpleasantly, likely to snap at her own partner. Maddie tries, but she can easily become jealous towards Farmer.

If Philip feels jealousy, he won't say it to Farmer directly. But he would tell his close friends over a mug of something strong, trying to figure out whether hie is overreacting or it was justified. On the other hand, though, Philip realized that discussing the problem with anyone but Farmer was a foolish and unjustifiable decision. He would try to make amends.

Paula is lost, not knowing what to do with her feelings of jealousy. On the one hand, she wants to share her concern and talk about the time when the doctor thought that the situation was out of line. On the other hand - she's afraid that her insecurities and remarks will only make the situation worse. It's going to take her a little while to get her act together, but she does spill everything to her partner, hoping that communication will solve the problem.

Kenneth isn't too pleased when one of Farmer's friends is clearly trying to be something more than a friend (even though he and Farmer are officially a couple!), but the electrician trusts his partner to work things out for themself and draw the boundaries. Not to say he's trying to eavesdrop on the conversation anyway, he's just curious. Only asks who it was and what they wanted with Farmer. A sliver of jealousy, but nothing serious for accusations.

"Already taken, if you don't know." Maybe a bit blunt and harsh on Kiarra's part, but the girl didn't want to be left with ambiguities and misunderstandings. Farmer's friend, who had been a little too touchy-feely for a friend lately, might take offense at Kiarra's words, but the graphic designer would ask how Farmer's friend would feel if she was trying to flirt with their partner like that. Nothing personal, but respect boundaries.

Does Flor realize that jealousy is a desire for the undivided control of all the time and all the strength, mental and bodily, of another person, which is not healthy for her relationship with Farmer? Of course. Will she begin to address this issue with Farmer? Well... yes, but not right away until she's prepared to voice her thoughts. The red-haired girl is afraid to express herself in such a way that Farmer will not only not understand her, but will take her words to heart, so she wants to be careful. Maybe there isn't really a problem here?

Wait, someone wants to take Farmer away from Ysabelle? No on her watch! It might have been a simple misunderstanding, but the jealous feeling in the girl already surged like fire, and it made her do something about it. She would be by Farmer's side, holding their hand (they are a couple), kissing them and complimenting them (they are a couple, after all) and gently hugging them (they are. a couple. got it?). Wha- Of course not, she's not jealous!

Jeric isn't jealous type, and he knows from himself when just someone shows a mastery of eloquence without any hint of taking his partner. But he's also a virtuoso at speaking and complimenting, so he really doesn't mind battling someone in conversation. Of course he'll win, since he's charming and Farmer thinks so, right dear?~ Though a little later he'll apologize to Farmer if it was a little awkward. Jeric believes them, he just wanted to have a little fun.