#faye's followers

[luvilists]

hey guys! this is my ENHYPEN friendships account! No smut! No suggestive! Just bros, friendships, duos, teams, reposts (idk)!

@hazelira is my main account

-> ENHYPEN Full Masterlist

-> Baby Masterlist

-> my perm taglist<3 <- request here

-> spotify user: luvieykws

[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.

[chipthekeeper]

just a few blink-and-you'll-miss-it Velcinta moments that make me want to chew glass

[pinkgvts]

Ch. 1 - The First Encounter

Boothill x Faye (oc) | 3k words | ao3

Faye's first time meeting with a rather unique client.

The golden evening sun hangs low enough in the sky that it filters beautifully through the high windows of the repair shop, painting the walls in a warm glowing light. It’s peaceful in the shop as it’s less than two hours before closing and there are currently no clients present. A comfortable silence has fallen over the two mechanics who run the shop. Besides the soft hum of music that plays over Faye’s sound system, all that can be heard is the tinkering of skilled hands and the sweeping bristles of a broom.

Sebastian, the sole proprietor of Seb’s Augment and Repair Shop, was an older man - about fifty-one years old - with short silvered hair, and a full, well-kept beard. He wore thick framed glasses that sat comfortably on his broad nose as he busied himself with his typical work, usually consisting of repairs or adjustments to prosthetic limbs. He had many decades of experience in this field under his belt and was well regarded in the community, known for being a very gentle and kind-hearted man.

Faye, the twenty-two year old mechanic who had been an apprentice to Sebastian for four years, had completed her orders for the day and was keeping herself occupied by cleaning the shop. She wore a faded brown apron over her dusty rose colored work shirt and baggy beige trousers that were tucked into her black leather boots. Long, black, fingerless gloves protect her palms as she sweeps. Her long, dark, greyish-purple hair was pulled back into a ponytail that left out her bangs. A stark streak of light grey hair hung over her left eye, but it didn’t obstruct her sight. It had been dead and unseeing since birth. Her right eye, however, remained in full view ‒ downturned in nature with thick, dark eyelashes cradling a beautifully deep and soothing blue iris.

She was a bit of a prodigy in Sebastian’s eyes. They met when Faye was around eighteen, nearly a high school graduate. Seb had been looking for an apprentice whom he trusted to inherit his business and he believed that Faye was his perfect candidate when he saw her handiwork being sported by the local strays. A black cat whose front legs had been made of metal. Or a large, mixed breed dog that would have been crippled for life if Faye hadn’t augmented its spine and hips. Her heart was pure and she had a clear talent for augmentative prosthetics, so Seb sought her out to offer his mentorship.

Suddenly, the silence that blanketed the shop is broken by the chime of the bell at the front door. Both Faye and Seb look to the door from their respective spots to see who had walked in. It appears to be a tall and slim man with long white hair that is blackened at the tips, wearing all black and a cowboy hat. Faye is the closest to the door when he enters, so she can hear the jingle of his spurs as he walks toward the front desk. 

“All yours, Faye,” Seb would call out from his workbench, turning his gaze back to the project before him.

“Welcome sir, how can I help you today?” Faye puts her broom to the side before dusting her hands off on her work apron, making her way toward the front with a friendly smile on her face. Though the smile was admittedly a bit forced as she was feeling a bit dispirited lately. 

“I heard this shop is somewhat of a safe haven for folks like me. That correct?” He spoke in a deep southern drawl that had a sort of robotic distortion to it, catching Faye off guard.

Upon hearing that question, she looked more closely at the man, confused by what he meant by ‘folks like me’. She looks him over, from head to toe, and realizes quickly that he’s almost entirely made of metal. Her only seeing eye blows wide with shock, and then it hits her. This is the man whose face is plastered all over the IPC’s wanted posters. However, the shock that’s painted all over her face isn’t due to the fact that the man before her is technically a wanted criminal, but entirely because of his body.

This is Faye’s first time seeing someone with more than half a body made of metal, and despite it being a bit worse for wear, it has her completely enthralled. Her expression shifts from shock to pure, unfiltered fascination. So absorbed in her open admiration of his body, she completely forgets to answer the poor man’s question.

“Uh…Am I mistaken?” He would chime in once more, breaking Faye out of her trance.

“Oh! My apologies. What you’ve heard is correct. We’ll gladly take you as a client, so long as you have the funds to pay us,” Faye nods, face slightly flushed from embarrassment. 

“Perfect. As ya can probably see, I’m in need of some repairs,” he’d gesture to large gashes in the metal of his abdomen, blue fluid along his sides that have since dried.

“Of course! You’ll be in my hands today, if that’s alright?” her head tilted slightly, with a small, sheepish smile on her lips.

“Don’t matter to me who does it, I just need it done,” his shoulders raise into a shrug as he chuckles lightly. He dons his signature sharp toothed grin.

“Well, follow me right this way-...err,” Faye squints in contemplation, trying to remember if he had given her a name.

“Boothill.”

“Ah, right this way, Mr. Boothill,” she’d gesture for him to follow her toward the back of the shop. “You can call me Faye, by the way!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Faye,” to which she’d hum in response. He’d follow close behind her as she began to guide him back, walking past Sebastian’s work area and onward to a different section of the shop. When they reach Faye’s workstation, she turns to face him as her hands reach back to tighten her already dirtied apron.

“Alrighty, please take off any and all articles of clothing. You can place them on this chair for now, and when you’re ready, go ahead and take a seat on this table,” she requests bluntly. Gesturing to a chair that’s off to the side as she moves toward her workbench to gather the items she’ll need to run a diagnostic. A large silver topped table stands in the center of her work area, surrounded by adjustable lamps of varying sizes.

One would think that Boothill would have already become accustomed to being asked a question like this, but his eyes widened and his cheeks became a rosy pink as the words left Faye’s mouth. Perhaps it could have been partially due to the fact that she was an attractive, young woman, and he was still just a man. Whatever the reason, he was far too flustered for a man of his circumstances.

The lack of any sound coming from the man behind her causes Faye to turn to look at her client in confusion. When she sees him standing there like he’s a lost child, she’ll giggle softly to herself. It wouldn’t have been the first time something of this nature has happened to her.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Boothill. I promise I’ll be nothing but professional during the procedure. No funny business whatsoever,” she’d reassure. “I can turn around again if that’d help?”

Boothill would swallow thickly before speaking, still blushing as he reached for the hat that sat atop his head.

“No point in doing’ that, you’ll be seein’ it all anyway, doll.” Faye would let the term of endearment blow right past her, but if she wasn’t paying attention, she might have missed the slight pout in his voice. How cute. Such a tough looking man is flustered by something like this. Surely he would have been in a situation like this before, and yet he’s still acting all bashful. Not to mention, his current attire isn’t exactly the most modest with how little it’s actually covering. Almost the entirety of his torso is exposed by his ultra-cropped leather jacket.

“You are right about that,” she’d confirm, nodding and chuckling lightly.

Then she drags a rolling stool over to the operating table, diagnostic tablet in hand. She adjusts the cushion’s height before taking a seat, facing the table as she boots up the tablet. The rustling of fabric and jingling of metal pins sounds beside her as Boothill has finally begun taking off his clothes. The first to go is his hat, then his leather jacket, red bandana, pistol and holster, and lastly, his pants.

After everything is removed and neatly placed on the chair that Faye gestured to earlier, Boothill takes his place on the table as he was instructed to. Faye looks up at him from her seat before standing to be at eye level with him.

“Okidoki, just sit still while I run a quick diagnostic,” she wiggles the tablet in her hand before pointing it at him so that it can scan his mechanical body. She moves the tablet around his body so as to not miss even a single inch of him, circling him once until she’s stood in front of him again. The tablet will buffer as it compiles his scans and identifies all anomalies that need attention. While it takes its time loading, Faye places the tablet down on the table beside Boothill’s thigh to free both of her hands. 

She pulls her gloves out of her back pocket where they usually hang before tossing them down onto the table as well. Boothill is trying his best to not look at her, still feeling slightly awkward, and fixes his gaze on the tablet that buffers beside him. However, nothing can distract him from what comes next. Faye leans in close as her bare fingers begin to run along the gashes at his side. He has to fight to keep himself from jumping at the contact. Curious, he peers at her through his peripheral vision, not wanting to turn his head and draw her attention. She’s intensely focused on what she’s examining and doesn’t even notice that her client's jaw is clenched and his artificial breathing has stalled. 

Boothill remains as stiff as a block of concrete the entire time that Faye spends thoroughly inspecting his external damages. It probably only lasted a few minutes, but to him it felt as though it had lasted for at least an hour. His jaw only unclenches when she stands up straight, no longer inches from his body. The tablet beside him, as if in time with Faye, chirps cutely to signal that it has finished computing all the components needed for repairs.

“Alright, Mr. Boothill. Mind if I open you up?” she’d ask as she glances at the tablet, hands now busy with pulling her gloves over her fingers.

“Go ahead,” his voice comes out a bit wearily, but Faye doesn’t pay it much mind. Figuring that he must be tired from whatever business he was caught in that caused him to wind up in his current state. She also doesn’t care to ask as it really is none of her business, but she assumes he just got a bit unlucky with the IPC.

Gloved hands search through the front pocket of her apron and come out holding a screwdriver. She sits on her heightened stool before leaning in once more to begin unscrewing Boothill’s chest and abdominal plating. Placing each one to the side neatly until his cybernetic innards are on full display for Faye to marvel at. She can’t hide her excitement as her observatory gaze dances around his wires.

“Incredible,” she says mostly to herself, but she’s so close to Boothill now that it’s impossible for him to miss. “Your original mechanic is brilliant, this wirework is so neat and orderly. So efficient as well! There isn’t a single unnecessary component.” Faye is openly gawking at this point.

Boothill chuckles, disrupting her train of thought.

“I wouldn’t’ve known any better if you didn’t point it out.”

“Well, regardless, you did a good job of picking them, they really knew their stuff!” Faye would smile up at him, leaning back on her stool, tablet back in her hands. “Anyways, your interior looks relatively undamaged, so this shouldn’t take too long. You can lie down while I work to make things more comfortable for you. I’ll also plug you in for a recharge while we’re at it.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he says, finally getting used to being in her presence. Faye stands, shoving her tablet into one of her apron’s pockets before collecting the metal plating that she’d left on the table; clearing the way for Boothill to lie down and placing them on her workbench instead. When the table is cleared, Boothill swings his legs up and over onto the table, centering himself before lowering his body down into a lying position. 

Faye purses her lips slightly at the second use of ‘doll,’ but doesn’t let it bother her too much. Chalking it up to him just speaking like any cowboy would. Them and their sweet talking habits. Refocusing, she leans down to look under the table, assessing whether Boothill’s recharging port will line up with a removable window at the center of the table. Seeing that it looks to be lined up well enough, she presses a button on a control panel nearby to open the small hatch, and then another to raise the proper charging cable up and into the opening. The rim around the cable is magnetic, so once it’s within a close enough proximity to its respective port it will automatically snap into place with a satisfying thunk. Once that’s taken care of, she scurries off to collect the list of materials needed for the repair.

When she returns, she brings with her a cart full of appropriately trimmed and rounded metal sheets. Before she sits back down on her stool, she adjusts one of the many lamps to illuminate Boothill’s torso. With everything set up, Faye gets straight to work.

Almost two whole hours have passed when Faye finally sits up to stretch her back. The repairs are finished and a final routine inspection indicates that her client is now in pristine condition. The amber glow of sunlight that had bled in through the shop windows earlier was now completely gone.

“Phew. Alright, Mr. Boothill, you’re all set! Let me unplug you, and you can go get dressed.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he’d say obediently, a bit of a joking edge to his tone. Faye squints at him as if to judge him, but the gentle smirk on her lips betrays her.

As she’s coming out of her stretch, she’ll press the buttons that remove the charging cable and close the table’s center hatch. As those processes happen, she glances at the digital clock that sat on her workbench just a few feet away. 6:30 pm. Sebastian had already left the shop, having stepped in briefly about half an hour ago to tell her goodbye. Sighing, she stood from her stool and removed her gloves, throwing them down onto her workbench.

Boothill was awake the whole time that Faye operated on him, just watching idly as she seemed to enter some kind of flow state. It was admirable how deeply engrossed and intrigued she was in her work; her extreme attentiveness to the care she provided made Boothill’s heart ache with gratitude. When he felt the charging cable remove itself from his port, he sat up and looked down at his fully repaired abdomen. As good as new.

Hopping off the table, he moved toward his belongings to get dressed again. At the same time, Faye removes her apron, hanging it on a hook near her bench. She turns toward Boothill, making her way toward him as she snaps open the buttons of her work shirt, seeking the cool, conditioned air of the shop.

“I’ll be up front when you’re ready, but take your time,” she spoke calmly, walking past him and toward the front.

“You got it,” he’d respond, halfway through pulling his pants over his legs. All awkwardness that he felt earlier seemed to have vanished during the time that she worked on him. Though he does chuckle to himself at how nonchalant she is about having a completely nude cyborg right in front of her. Upon reflection, maybe it’s not that surprising considering there isn’t really anything but a flat sheet of metal where his most intimate parts would have been if he were still of flesh and bone.

He dresses quickly, slotting his hat back into its rightful place atop his head as he makes his way toward the front to find Faye.

When he finds her, she’s leaning over the front desk, resting on her elbows and facing the door. Her dusty rose work shirt is folded and placed beside her, leaving her in a cropped top not too dissimilar to the one that he wears. The sudden sight of her exposed skin forces Boothill to gulp involuntarily. He’ll try to hide his reaction as best as he can, but when he rounds the corner of the desk and sees the cut out that exposes her chest, he can’t hold back the blush that creeps back onto his cheeks. Willing himself to look at anything else but her, he moves to stand directly across from her.

“You feeling okay, cowboy?” she’d inquire upon seeing his reddened face, pushing off of her elbows to stand tall in front of him.

Boothill nearly chokes as he clears his throat before speaking.

“Never better. How much do I owe you for your troubles?” He’s trying his best to change the subject quickly.

Faye lets her gaze linger on his face a second longer, a brow raised slightly in a questioning manner, before she pulls up his tab on a digital terminal.

“You can pay using this secured code or with physical currency if that’s easier,” she points to a barcode at the bottom of the screen of the payment device.

Boothill pulls out his phone to scan the code. He fiddles with it for a bit before returning it to one of his pockets. The terminal dings, indicating that it has received the payment in full.

“That all?” He keeps his eyes locked diligently on her face.

“Yup! Looks like you’re good to go now,” Faye nods at him, smiling genuinely. “Oh! And please send your original mechanic my regards. I’ll be thinking about their beautiful work for years to come.” 

It wouldn’t even dawn on her that what she just said could have been interpreted as a flirt, but Boothill just shakes his head as laughter rumbles in his chest. He wonders if she’s doing this to him on purpose.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he’d adjust his hat to sit a little lower on his brow, effectively hiding the pink hue of his cheeks, then turning to make his way to the door. “Thanks for everything, you’re a real gem.”

“Of course! Now you take care of yourself out there, cowboy!” A gentle giggle leaves her lips before she says her final send off. “But you’re always welcome here if you need some more fixin’.” 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. When he reaches the door, he tips his hat to her, and walks out with his cape and long hair flowing behind him. The chime of the door bell announcing his departure, just as it had for his arrival.

[wogglywiggler]

(2/5) the cookie of passion, hollyberry cookie!

[fayes-fics]

An AMA night to celebrate 5k followers? Congrats!! 🎉It couldn't happen to a better/kinder/nicer/talented person! Love ya 🫶❤️

Now all that being said, you know what I think it's time for again?

🚨 ANOTHER ROUND OF BRIDGERTON DEATH MATCH 🚨

This time it's Anthony! Same rules as last time: You can choose only one! The other Anthonys go back to Aubrey Hall to rest up until they're needed🤣

First up: Angst!thony

Second contender: Pall Mall Menace

Third player: Feral Viscount

Fourth: Soft!thony

and the fifth and final contender: Happily Married Simp!thony

Now I'd like it known I COULD have included Wet!thony, but he's got an unfair advantage because well 🥵🥵

Anyway: One Man, Five Versions. WHICH ONE DO YOU CHOOSE?

Hi lovely!! 🫶

Or should I say EVIL GENIUS?!? 🤣😬

This is SO CRUEL 😭 Death match again?!? I barely survived the Benedict one. And again… I want ALL THE ANTHONYS!!!

But urghhhhh okay…. Of COURSE wet!thony would win, but of the others, I think it’s a choice between Pall Mall and Feral. Cos I love an unhinged Viscount, be it competitive or aroused.

Ok ok I’m going feral. That speech STILL has me shooketh after watching it for a redacted number of times. 🫠🫠😮‍💨

Thank you for your kind words and these cruel choice hehe. JK it was a lot of fun. 🫶 You’re the best. Love backatcha 🥹😁🧡🧡

[american-horror-whore]

@newwavesylviaplath i love you so much

[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

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @dolliewon @s1rawb3rry @freaky-enhamadswriter @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen @yejisuu @kpopslays @berryberrystrawbery

[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

[sunfloweraro]

I am asking about your book!

I love your fic writing, so I’m very excited about the prospect of a book!

What’s the plot? Who are the main characters? Any fun lore details you’re bursting to share?

(Also November in Australia is evil, I’m dying, how are you holding up?)

YES okay so:

The plot:

Edwin, heir to the throne and very-soon-to-be king, is sent on a quest by his father to prove himself a worthy future king: he must journey far to the west of the kingdom and defeat a terrible evil threatening the kingdom. With the help of Meghan, a royal knight in training, Atla, a physician, and Soarn, an archer, he sets out on this quest, but the longer they travel together, the harder it becomes to keep secrets hidden. And when they finally reach the end of their journey, they discover this great evil isn’t all that it seems—and neither is the king.

The characters (AKA more detail of the above):

Edwin:

- my prince character! He’s 19, almost 20

- Speaks relatively ‘proper’ initially, until the others infect him with their speech patterns

- autistic

- Disabled, but no one except his immediate family know of it. There was an accident when he was 7 which wound up with his leg being crushed by a statue, and even though he’s healed now, it’s permanently weakened and causes him pain, either from flare ups or when he uses it too much (or both!) He blames himself for the accident.

- Best (and only) friend is Meghan. They’ve known each other since they were 4-5 and are extremely close. No romance between them, although Edwin had a little crush on her when they were very, very young, before he found out she doesn’t like men. They laugh about it now.

- Related to the above note: he also gets very jealous when Meghan is with her other friends. His father never allowed him to make other friends—Meghan pushed her way into his life anyway.

- Terrible at taking care of himself. Forgets to eat/sleep a lot

- Does not have a good relationship with either of his parents, but he is desperate to make his father proud, hence why he so readily accepted this quest.

- Used to have an older brother. When a prince from a neighbouring kingdom visited, he and Edwin hit it off quickly. Edwin snuck him into his rooms to keep playing, and when he fell asleep, the other prince stole his master keys, snuck into his brother’s room, and smothered him with a pillow. No one ever believed Edwin when he tried to share the truth. He very much blames himself for his brother’s death.

- Cannot fight for the life of him. Uses a dagger for self-preservation, but again, not good at wielding it

Meghan:

- My royal-knight-in-training character! 19 years old.

- Best friends with both Edwin and Atla

- Comes from a family of scholars. Her parents have aided the king many times and her mother is one of his trusted advisors. She was expected to follow in her parents footsteps, but she prefers to protect from the front lines, and pushed to get into knight training. Her parents do not approve of this

- A handful of months before the book starts, she ran away from home due to her parents attempting to tear her away from her training. They had a fight, and she never went home. She lives on the streets and can’t bring herself to tell Edwin when he’s already got so much on his plate

- Silly, smart and strong, she’s determined to enter into the royal guard and keep Edwin safe when he ascends. She worries about him a lot. She’s also very soft!

- Butch lesbian

- Determined to protect others to the point of self-sacrifice, and is not kind to herself when she fails (which comes from her parents never accepting this choice of hers)

- She tends to have trouble listening to others—once she sets her mind on something, that’s how they’re doing it. This causes issues between herself and Edwin later on, as well as with Atla.

- Miiiight get a teeny crush on Soarn, until she realises the other girl is aroace. (Edwin has the same issue, and they both laugh about it together)

- Fights with a sword primarily, but can use anything as a weapon in a pinch

Atla:

- My physician character! Their age is… ahem. Technically 18, but their body has been in the world for over 300 years. I will elaborate below.

- They’ve been training under the head physician since they were 13, and excelled to the point where they are now one of her assistants. Very useful on this quest.

- Nonbinary!

- They have godly heritage on their mother’s side, giving them golden eyes, hair, and two golden wings upon their back at birth. They were a cherished secret in their village, bringing good luck and always eager to help their community. They took to healing quickly, using magic granted to them from their godly wings to mend broken bones and nasty gashes. However, a terrible man found out about them and moved to the village, befriending them swiftly. They played together in the forest often, until one day, the man led them into the forest and tore their wings from their back. He then buried them alive to get rid of the evidence and used the magic from the wings to trick the kingdom into accepting him as their leader. He also uses the feathers from the wings to stay alive for far longer than any human should

- 300 years later, the gods bring Atla back to life, feeling their unfortunate ending was unjust, and Atla is deadset on revenge, but they have no way to get close to the man who killed them… until this quest is shared with them, five years after they were brought back to life

- Their wings were not brought back with them, and they now have chronic back pain where their wings used to be

- They were taken in by two loving mothers into a massive family, and they love their mamas, but… they miss their first family, and their village. But that’s all long gone now

- Best friends with Meghan, and would kill for her if need be (“I’m a healer, but—“)

- Can speak to animals. No one else knows this yet

- The cook of the group! They cook a lot of old family recipes to help themself feel close to the family they will never see again

- Fights with a hammer! A lot of rage piled up within them from their unjust death and then consequential revival.

- Has… ulterior motives for being on this quest.

Soarn:

- My archer character! She’s 17, almost 18

- Transfem! and aroace!

- She is a Desikah (a race of magical folks in my book who look similar to humans for the most part, but also… a little off. They each drift toward a certain type of magic at birth (fire, water, earth, shadow or light) and very few may wield two kinds of magic. Soarn herself is an earth- and light-type Desikah. The Desikah are very much hated due to a terrible reputation built up by the king (and maintained using magic) and hunted if they are ever caught. But they’re actually a very peaceful group, who care deeply for the world around them and everyone and everything in it.)

- No one but her father (human) knows she is a Desikah (from her mother’s side) and she will not tell anyone for fear of being slaughtered

- Has an animal friend! Her name is Maipa, and she is a Felivus (think, a cat with the back legs and wings of a raven), a magical race of creatures known for their healing abilities and intelligence. (She and Atla talk a lot). Soarn saved Maipa when she was just a kit, mending her broken wing, and Maipa imprinted on her and will stay with her through thick and thin, until death

- Her mother passed away when she was young, and her father is very cold towards her. He taught her how to hunt, however, and she wields her bow expertly, her connection to the earth aiding her in shooting true and striking her prey every time.

- She joins the quest later on, saving Edwin from a blow from a bandit that would have ended his life. She and Edwin do not hit it off well initially (entirely on Edwin’s part) but they both have terrible fathers, and they bond over that.

- She does not have a lot of self-worth initially, due to her father and the terrible community she grew up in. (the others will bash self-worth into her eventually).

Fun lore details:

OKAY SO. The king is clearly a terrible man, but it’s much worse than you think. Hundreds of different races of magical creatures used to roam the land, until the king used the magic in the feathers of Atla’s wings to cast a massive spell upon all humans in his land—one that imbued a deep hatred and distrust in any magic. The creatures were hunted nearly to extinction and banished from the lands. Why did the king do this? He felt magic of any kind was a threat to him and his rule, and he is very much a power-hungry, evil man.

Some magical creatures still live in the kingdom, one most humans don’t know of at all (Atla knew of Felivi as they were around when they were first alive). But most have been forced to other kingdoms, or into hiding—there is an underground community of thousands, hidden away beneath the desert, that the king has no idea of. And they would all love to get revenge on the man who forced them out of their homes :)

(And thank you for asking! November has been MISERABLE. We’ve been hopping between wet and freezing, and then scorching hot and humid T.T I, naturally, have come down with a cold because of the jump in temps. Hoping you’re handling it better!)

[fvaleraye]

hey, we just wanted to give a reminder that money is. going to be kind of tight for a bit, for various reasons, and we would appreciate any and all support on that front :,) we have. our commission sheet, our patreon and our ko-fi all linked in our pinned post, and we would very much appreciate any financial help that could be given.

[l3viat8an]

(Ghost Celeste and Faye. a.u)

Belphine: I killed you…And You killed me…

Faye:Celeste Why’d you kill this guy?

Celeste: MOTHER FUCKER HE KILLED HIMSELF!

And then Faye would turn to Belphie; ‘Why’d you kill yourself?! What was the point???’

She’s too nice to him even after everything 💀

[brighteststar707]

they sure know how to appeal the the tumblr userbase don't they?

[wildelydawn]

yeah yeah ship what you want but what I wanna know is when youre gonna breed one of the little soccer guys because ive been reading your kp stuff for years sooo thats what im invested in 😈

I've legitimately never have felt more called out in my life sksksksks I don't even know what to say because I've got one anon telling me to stop tagging tags that I don't tag and I have you telling me to breed Pedr- *gunshots*

[fayes-fics]

Finally submitting an AMA (and I feel like I can’t remember the best one from last night so I’ll send it for next AMA if I can remember)!

Make Me Choose #1

A) Benebum

B) Vicountass

Make Me Choose #2

A) Anthony on his knees at your mercy

B) Benedict on his knees at your mercy

Hi lovely!! 🫶

Thank you for taking part in this fun silliness 😁🧡

1) Oh mannnnn again with the hard choices. 😱 I mean I might have to go Viscountass just cos we have seen it more and it’s just delightful. BUT I’d like to reserve the right to change my answer pending s4 🤣

2) whatttt?!? How can you make me do this?! Urghhhhhhhhh the idea of both is best OF COURSE. But if I can only choose one…. Yknow what, I think I love the idea of a powerful Viscount on his damn knees more than my fave little whore. Yeah that shocked me too, but I’m going with it 🤷‍♀️

Thanks so much lovely 😁🧡🧡

[sunsburns]

i wish i had a dollar for every note on my posts