#this ended up being longer than i intended

[swordsandholly]

Fancy: The Rewrite

Chapter One: Here's Your One Chance

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | next | masterlist | Ao3

A/N: This fic has been haunting me since I stopped working on it. I just wrote myself into a corner and sped through the story far too quickly. Plus, I have some new concepts that I think really fill out the unfortunate issues with the original. Chapter one is the most similar to the original. I'm leaving the original up on tumblr for the hell of it, but I hope you enjoy the re-write as much as I am.

A permanent darkness rests over the city; dense and unbidden. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city. The chill on your skin never lifts. It leaves a shivering underneath, nearly an ache these days. Something ingrained into your very nature by your surroundings.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s purpose made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century of pollution and overpopulation. The constant cover of the dome cannot be broken to filter it - not even for a moment can the eternal night hanging overhead end. Your lungs will turn black before the age of five without proper protection. It’s worse it summer - at least the artificially created facsimile of summer - when the air warms and wets and coats your insides. When the pollutants find their way into the water supply. As if there is any point to the heat with so sunlight in return. Your nails always have a layer of dirt crusted underneath during those months.

The lower city is nothing but old buildings on top of even older structures; all moderately crumbling in some capacity. Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway. Even if the smog has turned the tempered glass a semi-opaque grey.

The slippery polyester of your black dress smooths over your skin, just as artificial as everything else in this place. You tie your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own. The most authentic, at least, and the only thing that makes you seem worthy of the upper city. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips - to get what you need to survive. Red lipstick as a final touch, always. It’s corny, and leaves you cringing every time you glance at the damn thing but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place; can’t be a single reason to cast doubt that you are inhumanly perfect while never losing that very humanity they crave so desperately. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums and at least make it to the middle city. Once you ruin your reputation at a place like this… well, you might as well call it permanently. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore. They died two generations ago.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles at your neck as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop up here. The one that sends all the grime and smog downhill, leaving a fog so thick you can’t even see the building lights properly.

The club sits square in central downtown - bult into the underground level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. At least that’s what the plaque in the lobby says. You had just long enough to change a glance at it while heading up with a client once. The fixtures sparkle underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you. If it weren’t for the small glowing sign that marks the “Back Stage” you might never know it’s there.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the pity in the ancient creatures’ eyes when they look at their human cohorts posturing to appease them. You can see the hunger, in equal measure, when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light; when your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses. It’s all purposeful, of course, maintaining the dance of remaining just out of their grasp, but close enough that if they really wanted to take you, they could.

It’s hard work, the dance. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your theoretical future.

“Hey! You!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. Every outcome of whatever mistake you made. Being thrown out into the city before you can even gather your respirator or coat. Choking on the air as you make your way home and praying you survive the symptoms after. Though, there wouldn’t be much point to surviving them without work.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive, crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a mix up. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear him. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are nonchalant and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold… so much opportunity and disaster…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough extra cash to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? You turn it over in your hands briefly. Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your skin and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of ten thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth under the scrutinizing eye of the owner - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far quieter here; the music from the floor muffled by the distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight.

You just hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting at the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly. Their stares tear through you, seemingly pulling you apart at the seams. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think that hypervigilance leaned toward fear.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable service headspace you’ve curated. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks, words slow and hushed. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body too tense and words too stilted to sell whatever casual air he is trying for.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red for you from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes don’t leave you and you try not to shrink from them. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John either - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. There’s a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him, voice hushed.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them and leaving goosebumps in their wake before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. You’d think he was staring at the mole just below your collarbone, but that’s probably too presumptuous. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

“That how you got these?” You startle as John slips his fingers beneath the string of pearls, tugging ever so slightly. You meet his eye, only briefly, only long enough to see something hard behind them that wasn’t there before. He rolls the golden clasp between his fingers absently.

“I… I’ve always had them…” You frown, suddenly wracking your mind as to their origin. You’d never thought about it. They were your mother’s… you’re sure… but somehow that doesn’t feel right. The harder you think, the further the answer seems to be.

Either way, John seems placated by that. He retracts his hand, falling back into the simple banter from before. You allow you shoulders to relax, deciding to take his return to form at face value. Not that you have another option, really. It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses as needed - mostly Johnny’s. His face would probably be red from the alcohol were he alive. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s finger traces the exposed upper curve of your spine above the dress. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just...” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at their mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you. It’s not like you’re one of those girls anyone would miss.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it. As you settle back into the booth, you allow yourself to sink comfortably into the soft cushions. A jolt shoots down your spine as a cool finger tucks a section of hair behind your ear. Your eyes meet John’s - some undiscernible pain swirls in those grey-blues. It looks wrong, that much emotion on such a statuesque face. He glances past you, toward Simon, you think.

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. There isn’t any other explanation for your sudden, uninterrupted blackout. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… used. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by five empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. Assuming he is the one that compelled out, of course, though it isn’t exactly a stretch based on his behavior.

It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood or pleasure or both - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They sit heavier in your hand the normal - each movement feels as though you’re moving through molasses.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A few thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat and gathering your things from your locker to make the long trek home before the train stops running. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare. The air is heavy with the implication that they know something you don’t. They must. You aren’t exactly in on the gossip.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it? There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are. Then again, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. They liked you enough to pay you. There isn’t any point in trying to dissect such a simple transaction beyond that.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in the simple victory of it.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When You Call Them Clingy| Hyungline

Hyungline x Gn!Reader

Request: I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Bangchan

The soft hum of the studio usually made you feel at peace, especially when you were just spending time with Chan. You were always glad to support him in his creative space, and you enjoyed watching him work. It made you admire and love him even more than you already did, to see ihm where he felt most comfortablte.

His studio, a mix of chaos and harmony, had always been a safe space where you could just sit quietly, listening to his music flow, while you did your own thing. It wasn’t a busy session, so you figured it would be a relaxing evening- just the two of you, in quiet company, without needing to talk or be overly present.

Which after the day you had was something you needed.

But, in a rare occurrence, Chan wasn’t just focused on the music today. Every few minutes, he’d stop, look over at you, and ask if you needed anything.

"Are you comfortable?" "Do you want something to drink?" "Is the light okay? I can turn it down if it’s too bright."

At first, you smiled and humored him, appreciating the concern. He was always thoughtful like that, checking in to make sure everyone was doing well. But after a while, the constant attention felt like more than you were prepared for.

It was subtle, almost like he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust that you were fine on your own. That he couldn’t leave you alone for even a minute. The steady rhythm of his work seemed to be interrupted each time he looked over, his eyes scanning your face, waiting for a reaction, for some indication that you were okay. It wasn’t just the questions- it was the way he seemed to hover around you, constantly adjusting things to make sure you were comfortable, even if you didn’t ask for it.

You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable, but the tension in your chest was growing, an invisible weight pressing down on you. The events of the day had drained you- errands, calls, the never-ending list of things you still had to do- and all you wanted now was to relax, to sink into the quiet. You weren’t used to being babied, and it was starting to irk you that you were.

“Chan, you’re being a little clingy, don’t you think?” you blurted out, the words escaping before you could stop them; coming out way sharper than you had intended.

Thus, the moment they left your mouth, you regretted them.

His head snapped up, and you could see his entire body freeze, mid-motion. The soft click of his mouse was the only sound that filled the room, the silence stretching longer than you intended. You quickly glanced at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you like a heavy fog.

The hurt flickered in his eyes, as he stared at his computer screen, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. The Chan you knew was warm, dependable, and always in tune with others, but he wasn’t immune to being hurt, even if he was quick to hide it. His shoulders slumped just a little as he took in your words, the usual ease in his expression slipping away.

“You’re not bothered, are you?” Chan asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if testing whether he’d heard you correctly. You watched as he swallowed his fingers twitching over the soundboard.

You could tell he was trying to mask the hurt, but the slight edge of defensiveness in his tone couldn’t go unnoticed.

"No, it's just- it's a lot, Chan," you said, trying to backtrack. "I know you care, but I can do things myself."

His expression faltered, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, a quiet acceptance in his eyes that made the room feel colder.

“Okay,” he replied softly, the one word holding more weight than you expected.

He stood up from his desk, his hand running through his hair in a rare moment of uncertainty. You watched as he stepped away, moving to the corner of the room where he kept his equipment, his movements slow, deliberate.

For a second, you thought he might say something else, some explanation or defense. But instead, he settled into a quiet stillness, his attention shifting back to the computer in front of him.

But the energy in the room had changed. There was no longer the usual comfortable buzz of creativity between you both. His focus was fixed on his work now, but you could sense the space between you growing- not from distance, but from something unspoken that had settled between you. Something heavy that neither of you was willing to address just yet.

The soft click of keys echoed through the room, but it felt far away now, distant. You turned your gaze back to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. The spark in his eyes- the one that had always made him seem so open and present- was dimmer now, as if the energy was draining from him, and the room felt quieter for it.

You opened your mouth to speak again, to apologize, to fix the tension, but no words came. The weight of your earlier remark had lodged itself too deeply between you. Instead, you sat there in silence, your shoulders tense as you fidgeted with your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You felt horrible. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach, the gnawing regret. You hadn’t meant it to come out like that. You had only wanted some space, some quiet to yourself. But in doing so, you had hurt him- someone who had only ever wanted to make you comfortable, to show that he cared in his own way, despite his busy life.

As the night wore on, the conversation you thought would flow so easily never came. Instead, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, your mind circling back to his quiet reaction. The weight of his silence hung heavy, and you realized that things had shifted in a way you couldn’t take back. The space between you wasn’t just physical now- it was emotional, palpable.

And you didn’t know how to bridge that gap.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minho

Minho had invited you over for dinner, and you’d been looking forward to it all week. Due to his busy schedule, you guys rarely hadf time to go on dates, so this is what made up for it.

His cooking was always top-notch, as if you were at a five-star restaurant, and you both usually spent hours enjoying each other’s company, laughing and talking about anything and everything. It showed you a different side of Minho every time you went over, the evenings always the kind of evenings that felt comfortable, familiar, and right. But tonight, it was different.

You hadn’t been in the best mood for the past few days. Between work, personal things, and the overwhelming lack of sleep, everything felt like too much. You could feel the stress weighing you down, settling in your chest, and despite the warm invitation, you couldn’t shake the sense of exhaustion that clung to you. The last thing you needed right now was Minho’s over-the-top pampering. You found yourself almost wishing he would be the quieter, more stoic Minho lots of people knew.

You sat at the kitchen counter, rubbing your temples, trying to ground yourself. The clink of glasses and the smell of food were all around you, yet it felt distant, like you couldn’t fully engage in the moment. Minho, ever attentive, seemed to notice and was quick to act.

“Here,” he said gently, handing you a glass of water with a soft smile. His hand falling to the small of your back. “You need to stay hydrated. Don’t forget, it’s important.” He placed a small kiss on your cheek.

You forced a small smile, trying to mask your frustration. “I know, Minho,” you muttered, taking the glass but not quite meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to remind me every five minutes.”

Minho blinked, clearly caught off guard by your tone. The usual lightheartedness between you both seemed to fade a little, and his face momentarily tightened, his eyes narrowing, just the slightest flicker of surprise crossing his features.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his words. “I care about you, and you seem agitated by something.”

His words were sincere, but for some reason, it only made your irritation grow. You had always appreciated how considerate Minho was with you specifically, how he’d go out of his way to make sure you felt good, but tonight, it was too much. You were so tired, mentally and physically, that even the smallest things felt like a weight you couldn’t carry. You just wanted to be left alone in your thoughts for a moment.

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as you tried to suppress it, but it was no use.

“Minho, seriously. Stop being so clingy,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “I don’t need you to make sure I’m comfortable every five seconds,” you muttered, the exhaustion making you sound harsher than you wanted. The words hung in the air, like they were already too much as soon as they left your lips.

The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Minho’s expression faltered, his eyes widening slightly as though your words had physically hit him. For a second, you regretted it, but the irritation still burned inside you.

His face fell, his smile slipping away. You could see it clearly now- the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed, as if your words had taken the air out of him.

Minho didn’t respond immediately, and you could see his gaze shift downward, his fingers gently toying with the edge of the countertop. There was a long silence, the kind that felt like a distant echo, hanging heavily between you both.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable,” he said, his voice quieter, almost unsure. The tone was different now- softer, more vulnerable than it had been moments before. "Guess you want to treat you just the same as everyone else." His tone was no sharp, his hurt masking itself with irritation.

Your chest tightened with guilt, but the irritation still lingered.

Now he's gonna act all petty?

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out as you intended.

For the rest of the night, something in the air shifted. The warmth that had once been there, the playful teasing and easy camaraderie, seemed to evaporate. Minho didn’t joke around with you like he usually did, no teasing smirk or lighthearted remarks. Instead, he was quiet, almost too quiet, as if trying to withdraw without saying a word. His eyes avoided yours, and when you spoke, he answered in soft, clipped sentences, with a bit of a bite, as if holding back the true amount of venom he wanted to use.

The energy in the room felt stifling, as though the conversation had drained all the life out of it. You could feel the tension rising with each passing minute, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the space between you. Even the food, which normally would’ve been a comfort, seemed bland and cold.

You noticed how he didn’t even sit next to you while you ate- he lingered at the stove, focusing a bit to much on his cleanup.

He didn’t ask if you were okay anymore. He didn’t try to comfort you, or joke about the ridiculousness and pettiness of this whole situation.

It stung, and you hated that it did. You wanted to take it back, wanted to apologize, but your vice of pride kept you rooted in your silence. You didn’t know how to say sorry, not when the frustration felt like it was still gnawing at you.

When Minho finally did sit at the table, he finished his meal quickly, his plate pushed away, and he stood up, clearing the table with quick mechanical movements. He seemed to go through the motions, as though nothing had changed, but you could feel the tension.

When Minho finally looked at you, his eyes were distant, but there was a subtle flicker of hurt that you hadn’t expected, something you couldn’t ignore, and it stung more than you realized. Something that showed you your words had cut him even more than you had thought.

“Thanks for dinner,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, void of the usual warmth. Now, it was no longer laced with irritation, that feeling had long since morphed into an unease and anxious guilt.

He nodded, but it was a small, mechanical motion, his gaze still not quite meeting yours. “Anytime.” He glanced at his watch, then turned away, his tone colder than it had been all evening. “I have work to do. But you can show yourself out whenever you’re ready. Drive safe.”

Before you could respond, he made his way to his room, then stopped mid-step. You saw the brief hesitation in his posture before he turned back toward you. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed your temple- a quick, almost reflexive gesture. But it was different this time.

It lacked the usual warmth, the reassurance he always gave when parting ways. This kiss felt more like a habit than an act of affection, as though he couldn’t help it, even now, despite the tension in the air.

It was a gesture you’d become accustomed to over the months.

Minho’s little ritual of kissing your temple before leaving, like a small blessing or a reminder that he cared. It had always made you feel safe, loved, and cared for. But tonight, it only made your heart ache more, because you realized just how deeply he still cared for you, even in the aftermath of your words. Even in the face of your anger, he was still showing you love, silently.

And that’s when it hit you- he was still being the bigger person. You, on the other hand, let your frustrations cloud your judgment, never fully appreciating the ways Minho always took care of you.

He was trying, trying so hard to make sure you knew you were loved, going out of his usual love language comfort zones, and you had just pushed him away with your harshness.

The kiss lingered in the air long after he pulled away, the silence between you thick with unspoken emotions.

And just like that, the evening ended. The space between you felt suffocating now. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, as guilt gnawed at you from the inside.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you could have handled it better, if you could have just let the frustration go instead of lashing out. But Minho didn’t seem to want to address that issue tonight. Not now. And the realization that you had left him feeling like that hurt more than anything.

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Changbin

Changbin had always been energetic, especially when it came to hanging out with you. Whether it was spontaneous plans or meticulously planned-out evenings, he was the type to keep the energy high. But tonight, his energy felt more like an obligation- one that you didn’t ask for, but he seemed determined to push on you.

You didn’t want to ruin his mood, but you just weren’t in the right headspace for his relentless affection. It had been a long day, and you were struggling to keep up with the high spirits he was bringing. He practically showered you with snacks, offering things before you even knew you wanted them.

“Are you cold? I’ll get you a sweater.” “Do you need more chips? Wait, do you like these ones better?” “Should we pause the movie? Are you uncomfortable?”

It was sweet, really, but at the same time, you were starting to feel suffocated. You wanted to enjoy the movie, but you were also feeling the pressure of his constant presence, his constant attention. You just needed space- space to breathe without the constant checking in, without feeling like everything you did was being observed.

“Changbin,” you said, your voice more clipped than usual. “You’re being so clingy. Can you stop?”

The words left your mouth before you could fully process them, and as soon as you saw his face, you regretted it. His eyes, always so lively, lost their spark. His face fell, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room chilled. The warmth he usually exuded seemed to evaporate in an instant.

You couldn’t look away from the hurt in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just stood up quickly, gathering the snack bags and tossing them into the trash without a word. You saw the back of his neck turn an extreme shade of crimson, inching its way up to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I’ll give you space,” he said flatly, his voice void of the usual playfulness.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the guilt that was already welling up in your chest. The words you had thrown out so carelessly weren’t just a reflection of your frustration- they had hit him, harder than you had intended.

You wanted to apologize, to fix it, but before you could, Changbin was already turning away, his focus shifting to his phone. He tapped away at it with far too much intensity, avoiding your gaze.

You thought about it then- his need to please, his constant effort to keep things light, was actually a way of overcompensating.

Changbin was trying to distract you from whatever it was that bothered you, from the things he knew were going on in your life. But tonight, all it did was make you feel like a burden. He didn’t want to face whatever was weighing on him, so he smothered you in attention. But all you wanted was to be left alone for a few minutes. But how was he supposed to know that when his affection was not only something you loved, but most of the time desperately craved.

As you glanced over at him, his shoulders were tense, and his fingers were working quickly on his phone. He hadn’t even seemed to notice that you had curled up against the couch, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The movie was playing in the background, but neither of you were really watching it anymore.

The silence between you two thickened. Your own guilt was suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize, not yet. What was there to say? You had told him he was clingy, a word that no one ever wants to hear in a relationship.

It was a simple mistake, but it felt like something much worse.

As Changbin slipped off to the bathroom a while later, his movements were almost mechanical, as if he couldn’t stand to be around you for even a second longer. His absence left the room feeling cold. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to distract yourself, scrolling aimlessly, but something caught your eye. A text popped up on Changbin’s phone screen, and you leaned over to see it, a message from Hyunjin that made your stomach twist.

“Did you pop the question??!! Did Y/N say yes???!!”

The weight of the text hit you like a ton of bricks.

He had been planning to propose tonight.

He had been overcompensating, acting overly affectionate because he was nervous. He wanted everything to be perfect for you. He had been planning this all along, and here you were, pushing him away without realizing it.

A wave of guilt washed over you. You had been so wrapped up in your own stress that you had completely missed the signs.

When he returned from the bathroom, his face was flushed a deep shade of red. He avoided your gaze as he walked in, eyes glued to the floor, his shoulders hunched as though he were expecting some sort of confrontation. The atmosphere had changed, and you could feel it, like the air itself was thick with unspoken words.

“I…I’m sorry for being so clingy,” Changbin said quietly, his voice almost trembling. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, and you were struck by how vulnerable he looked, the way his face was tinged with embarrassment, and you swear his eyes were rimmed in a more irritated red, as if he had just come back from crying.

The confidence he usually exuded had dissolved, replaced by something far more raw.

The vulnerability in Changbin's voice made your chest tighten. His usual strength, the steady and confident energy he carried, seemed to crumble before you. His words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning, yet your mind was spinning too fast to catch any of it.

“Changbin...” you began, but your throat felt dry. His eyes darted away from yours, as if holding your gaze was too much.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, his words coming out even faster than he rapped. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a rare display of nervousness that twisted the guilt in your stomach even further. “I just thought maybe I could...I don’t know, help, but I didn't take your feelings into consideration. I'm sorry. It was wrong and not what you needed. So I apologize.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and it hit you like a blow to the chest. You wanted to tell him he had helped, that his presence was a comfort, even if you hadn’t seen it at the time. That he didn't need to apologize that you were the one who needed to apologize. But instead, the words stuck in your throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you as you watched Changbin grabbing his things.

"Are you leaving?" Your heart leapt in your throat. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you managed, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...I’ve been so tired lately, and I wasn’t thinking-”

He nodded, but the gesture was slow, uncertain. His eyes flickered toward his phone on the coffee table for a moment, but then he quickly looked away. Pocketing it without a second glance. His lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the effort it took for him to keep his composure.

“It’s fine,” he said finally, his voice flat in a way that didn’t sound like him. “You don’t have to explain.”

“But I want to explain,” you said quickly, stepping closer to him. “You didn’t deserve that. I just-”

Changbin shook his head, cutting you off. “It’s okay, really. I get it. Sometimes I can be...too much.” His laugh was bitter, a sound so unlike him that it made your heart ache. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I guess I overstepped. My bad."

“You didn’t overstep,” you insisted, but your words felt hollow even to you.

You could see the way Changbin was retreating into himself, building walls where there had once been none. His usual openness, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, was gone. In its place was a guarded version of him you had never seen before.

“I should go,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

“What?” you asked, your heart sinking. “Go? Changbin, wait-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” he interrupted, forcing a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think we both need some space.” His voice wavered and you could tell he was trying his best not to cry.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to argue, to tell him to stay, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He was hurt- really hurt- and no amount of apologizing in that moment would fix it.

“Bin...” you tried again, your voice breaking.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, jagiya.” he said quickly, not giving you a chance to respond. He turned toward the door, his movements stiff and deliberate, as though he were holding himself together with sheer willpower.

The sound of the door closing behind him was deafening.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had always been the most observant of anyone in your life. Which was one aspect that made you fall for him rather quickly. That and his passionate flair matched with unparalleled looks sparked a tender, fragile and deeply cinematic and irreplaceable type of love. He could read your moods with the kind of precision that sometimes felt like he could peer into your soul.

Tonight was no different.

He’d planned an afternoon at the art gallery, an activity you both loved for different reasons. His enthusiasm was infectious as he led you through the exhibits, explaining things with his usual passion. The way his eyes lit up as he spoke about the paintings, his voice filled with such excitement, usually made you feel lighter, but tonight, it all felt like too much. You wanted to enjoy it, but your mind was elsewhere. The weight of everything that had been building up- the stress of work, the tension with friends, an inexplicable loneliness creeping in- was clouding your thoughts.

You kept nodding and smiling politely, but your mind was racing, unable to focus on the beauty around you and next to you.

By the time you reached the café you always frequented afterwards, you felt drained, and Hyunjin’s constant attention started to feel a little too much.

And you couldn't help but feel a bit irritable at the fact that Hyunjin hadn't noticed that you wanted a bit of space.

He was supposed to notice everything wasn't he? You thought sarcastically to yourself.

He was offering to refill your drink every few minutes, asking if you needed more sugar, commenting on the way you "cute" you were holding your cup.

Yet every time he looked at you, it felt like he was trying to read you, trying to fix what was broken inside you when you didn’t even know how to explain what was wrong.

And he still somehow couldn't manage it...

“Hyunjin,” you finally said, setting your cup down with a frustrated sigh. “Can you just sit down for a minute and stop fretting over every little thing I do?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, and even as you said it, a twinge of guilt crept in.

His brow furrowed, and his smile faltered, the lightness in his demeanor vanishing as his eyes searched yours for any hint of what was wrong.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern, as if he could tell something was off but couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

You forced a small smile, hoping it would reassure him, but it felt empty even to you. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just... overwhelmed. Thought you would have noticed that by now,” you murmured, your words like an apology, even though they weren’t enough to explain the depth of what you were feeling.

He nodded but didn’t sit down in his own seat. Rather he continued to hover, shifting in the booth next to you, tapping his fingers on the table. The pressure of his presence- his concern, his need to keep checking on you- was starting to feel like an anchor, weighing you down when all you wanted was to float, to escape for just a moment.

"Hyunjin!" you snapped, unable to keep the frustration from your voice. You hated how you sounded, like a burden, but the words spilled out before you could stop them, "You’re being clingy! I thought I made that clear." You quipped, frustration bubbling up and over and out, directed at him.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the color seemed to drain from his face. He didn’t speak at first, his mouth parting as if he was trying to find the right words. His gaze flickered to the side, and then he sighed quietly, the weight of the sigh making your heart sink. He licked his lip nervously.

“Okay,” he said, his voice small, almost defeated. He pushed his chair back gently and moved to sit across from you, but his posture was off- his shoulders slumped, his back stiff with a tension you hadn’t noticed before. His leg shaking up and down silently. The usual ease and warmth of his presence had shifted, replaced by something colder and anxious.

The rest of the evening was extremely strained. Hyunjin was quieter than usual, his focus elsewhere, barely making eye contact with you. Every time you tried to start a conversation, hoping to push past your miniature outburst, he seemed as if he was consciously avoiding you. He kept his gaze on his phone, fiddling with it absently, or staring off into the distance like he was waiting for something- anything- to change. His usual playful, admiration filled comments were gone, and in their place was a silence that made the air thickly discomforting.

You wanted to apologize, to explain yourself better, but something held you back. Maybe it was the fear that he wouldn’t understand, or maybe you were too embarrassed by how you had snapped at him in public of all places.

You couldn’t tell him how much you had been struggling, how every small thing was feeling too heavy to carry. You didn’t want him to worry about you, not like this, not when you couldn’t even explain it properly.

As you both finished your drinks, the silence between you felt too much to handle. His suffocating warmth and attention was gone, and you wished for that back rather than whatever the hell this was.

The energy between you had shifted so drastically that it felt like you were sitting next to a stranger.

When the bill came, Hyunjin stood up without a word, his movements quick. He paid, still not meeting your eyes. His fingers lingered on the edge of his wallet for a moment too long, like he was trying to force himself to do something, to act like everything was fine.

But the hesitation in his actions, the stiffness in his demeanor, told you everything. You had pushed him away, and now he was retreating behind a wall of his own.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual warmth. It was polite, but you could hear the sadness behind it.

You nodded, but there was nothing else to say. The walk home was filled with nothing but the sound of your footsteps and the occasional shift of his feet beside you. The distance between you felt insurmountable now, even though you were so close to each other physically.

When you reached your door, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. You wanted to say something- apologize, maybe- but Hyunjin was already backing away, his eyes avoiding yours.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice quiet, and with that, he turned and walked away without looking back.

You stood there, staring after him, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your chest.

"What did I do." You mumbled to yourself, letting the door close behind you with a soft click, but the regret in your heart all but made up for that.

And as the night stretched on, you realized the tension between you wasn’t something that could be fixed easily. Hyunjin was hurting, and you had no idea how to fix it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

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[chibinasuu]

Kid x Reader ― first snow; regret

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @gothmommie tags: sfw, angst with happy ending, GN!reader, no use of y/n

First snow used to excite you. 

It used to bring you joy, and wonder, and peace. You used to love how magical it looked when the landscapes around you were gradually blanketed in white as the snow piled up. 

But that was before. Now, first snow only brought guilt, and bitterness, and regret, along with the memory of the unforgiving stare of the love of your life. The coldness of his normally fiery eyes rivaled the freshly fallen snow as he abandoned you, mere minutes after his defeat at the hands of the Red Hair Pirates. 

You had sobbed on the ground as the green grass around you turned white – a sight no longer magical – but you didn’t blame him. It was entirely your fault that you kept the fact that you used to be an apprentice on the ship of your Captain’s biggest foe a secret.

When you heard about Kid’s plan to confront Red-haired Shanks, you had warned him not to go through with it. Of course, Kid being Kid, he did it anyway. When things had predictably escalated, you had gotten down on your knees in front of your old mentor and begged him to spare your crew.

The Emperor had let you all go with the cost of your Captain’s left arm. 

The memory of that day a year ago haunted your mind as you trudged across the snowy terrain along the coast of Ringo. 

You were in Wano because you had heard a rumor that a Poneglyph may be hidden in this country somewhere. You were under no banner now, but it didn’t mean that you were giving up on finding the One Piece. 

Well, call it chance, fate, or just mere coincidence – you couldn’t explain how you ended up coming across the Victoria Punk, docked at a small cove near the border of Hakumai. 

And there he stood. Your Captain. Your former Captain, you had to remind yourself. Your former best friend, your former… lover.

Before you could feign ignorance and run away, the metal of your belt buckle vibrated and you felt yourself being pulled by a magnetic force that was all too familiar. Kid set you down in front of him, on the deck of your former home. 

The two of you could only stare at each other, neither knowing what to say after a year of not seeing each other.

“I could recognize you from miles away.” He finally said. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Kid?” You asked. 

“It’s none of your business, isn’t it?” He scowled and retorted defensively, “You’re not part of my crew anymore, I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“Ouch, Kid.” You could feel hot tears pricking your eyes at his sharp words, “You didn’t need to drag me up here just to tell me that.”

You turned away, intending to get off the ship as fast as you could. You were about five steps away when Kid’s gruff voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“No, wait!” 

You had never heard such desperation in his voice before.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” His voice was low when he continued, barely audible, “I didn’t mean what I said – and did – a year ago either.” 

Your heart stopped for a beat, second-guessing if this really was the same man you knew. Kid had never once apologized for anything for as long as you had known him.

As you faced him again, you studied his beautiful scarred face. His brows were furrowed, red-stained lips pressed into a thin line. You waited patiently as he hesitated, opening and closing his mouth indecisively. His next words were like an arrow to your heart.

“Kicking you off the crew was the biggest regret of my life.” 

He looked away, face tinged red from the cold and embarrassment, “I… wasn’t in my right mind at that time. I was blinded by rage, and I did the stupidest thing I could possibly do.”

“I was a mess for weeks after that – you can ask Killer.” He chuckled humorlessly, “I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I was angry all the time.” At your raised eyebrows, he added, “Well, I mean, even more so than usual.” 

“Fuck. You drive me crazy, y’know?” He ran his hand through his messy hair as he breathed out your name, the sound like music to your ears, “I just… couldn’t stop loving you. And believe me, I tried. This whole damn year, I tried to forget you, but I just couldn't.”

You knew it couldn’t have been easy for a man like Kid to admit everything he just said. 

Your feet moved on their own accord, carrying you towards him. You threw your arms around his neck, no longer able to fight back the urge to be close to him. 

“I've missed you, Kid.” You confessed softly into his ears.

His grip around you tightened. His metal hand was frigid even through the clothing on your back, but you didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my past with Shanks.” You said. It was your turn to apologize now. 

“It wasn’t my intention to keep that from you – it just never came up. And when you decided to target him, I tried to tell you, I swear, but you just… wouldn’t stop and listen.” You sighed exasperatedly, “You and your one-track mind really vex me sometimes.”

In the quiet that followed, you leaned back and gazed into his amber eyes. 

“I may have regretted not telling you about Shanks, but know that I never regretted asking him to spare your life, Kid.” You firmly said, “His crew would’ve annihilated us back then. I only did what I did because I love you and I didn’t want to see you get hurt. And even then, you still lost an arm, so…”

Your words trailed off, suddenly nervous of how he would react to your audacious remark. You knew that deep down, he knew that your words rang true – he was just too damn proud to admit it.

But instead, Kid stayed silent. He just leaned forward and touched his forehead to yours, basking in the closeness he had craved since the day he thoughtlessly made you step off his ship.

After a while, he finally answered your earlier question about what the hell he was doing here, “We’re raiding Onigashima tomorrow to take down Kaido. There's no way in hell I'm letting Straw Hat and Trafalgar take all the glory.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. Another stupid, reckless plan. And yet, when he asked if you would fight by his side, the word naturally fell out of your mouth,

“Always.”

Snowflakes dropped from the clouds above as you held each other in a warm embrace. Despite wandering around Ringo for days, it was your first snowfall in Wano.

You breathed in the cold air and the familiar scent of Kid that you’ve missed oh-so-much. 

The first snow that landed on your entwined bodies, blanketing the wooden deck in white, felt like forgiveness, and reconciliation, and new beginnings.

a/n: i know i said this is a drabble event but i've never written for kid before so i got too excited, got carried away, and this ended up being around 1k words 😅

anyway, it’s december and officially the start of my holiday event!! thanks to everyone who have requested so far, i’m really excited to write all of them! i'm still accepting submissions so please send in your requests if you're interested <3

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

[campingwiththecharmings]

In Your Arms I Feel at Home

AN: Inspired by a prompt from this list. This got a little angstier than I'd intended but the muse wants what it wants. Happy last day of Poevember, besties 🥰

(Un-beta’d)

Poe's favorite part of the day is coming home to you.

Rated: T Words: 698 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Warnings: Mild angst, feelings of hopelessness, emotional hurt/comfort AO3

——————

It’s Poe’s favorite part of the day, coming home to you. He looks forward to it from the moment he wakes, your side of the bed long empty and cold thanks to your obscenely early call time. He thinks about it all day, walking in through the door, seeing you on the couch; the mental image alone brings a smile to his lips. He can already feel the warmth of your gaze, of your smile, the press of your lips against his. He longs for it, for you, wanting nothing more than to be in your presence, to be afforded even a moment of your attention. 

Today is especially rough, a combination of the latest recruits not being up to snuff, news of numerous failed missions, and the capture and destruction of, not one, but three Resistance bases in the outer rim territories. Needless to say, morale is low. He tries to stay positive, tries to keep the faith, knows that people are looking to him, but sometimes it’s just so hard, you know? 

He’s slow as he trudges down the corridor toward your shared room, the events of the day weighing him down as he tries to keep his head held high. How much longer can he keep this up? How much longer  can any of them keep this up? This isn’t sustainable, not at the rate they’re losing allies. 

But what else is there to do but keep fighting?

His thoughts weigh heavy on him as he keys in the door code, the familiar snick of the door opening satisfying as he knows what lays behind it—

“Hey, you,” you say, smiling softly at him as you glance up at him from your data pad.

The sight of you is like a balm to his soul.

Without a word, he drops his things to the floor, making a beeline to where you sit comfortably on the couch. You know immediately something’s wrong, your brow furrowing in concern. It makes his heart ache to worry you.

“Bad day?” you ask, taking his hands in yours as he pauses before you.

Your hands are steady and sure, your touch warm and comforting. He wants to tell you everything—and he will—but he can’t, not yet. Instead, he just nods, finally allowing the hopelessness he’s kept at bay all day swallow him whole.

Without another word, you pull him down onto the couch with you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He buries his face in your neck with a shaky sigh, his body going limp and heavy against yours. You shush him softly, running your hands soothingly over his back, shoulders, and neck. He melts into you, his arms encircling your waist as you press gentle kisses against the side of his head. You always catch him when he falls. He’s so grateful for that, for you, that he can be like this with you, that he can let his guard down, that he can be vulnerable.

You hold him like that for Maker knows how long, giving him as much time as he needs to collect his thoughts, to work through everything. When he presses a kiss against the side of your neck and shifts so his head is in your lap, you know he’s ready. You gaze down at him with an encouraging smile, your fingers sinking into his soft curls. He sighs contentedly, eyelashes fluttering closed at your touch. He’s quiet so long, you think he’s fallen asleep, but then he speaks, his voice low and soft as he gives you an account of his day. You listen attentively, twirling your fingers around his silken strands. 

He feels lighter by the end of it, a gentle smile on his lips, a small flicker of hope reigniting in his chest. He gazes up at you, capturing one of your hands in his and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

“And how was your day?” he asks, lacing your fingers together.

You smile down at him, still playing with his hair, a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before he’d walked into the room.

“Better now that you’re here.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[starheirxero]

OH YEA BTW BTW. I got caught up in another fixation so I didn't comment about this the day-of or when I watched it but. The Lunar's apology video!!

And frankly? I don't see anything wrong with this episode actually! This looks really promising and there's even acknowledgments of topics I wasn't sure they'd ever bring up on the show. I still hold a lot of feelings on past episode leading to this point, but I think am overall wildly relieved that this was where we ended up. Lunar could have easily forfeited everything out of shame and stayed in that dingy apartment, not ready to take their mental bandages off yet and start the process of disinfecting the wounds.

But they swallowed their pride and not only initiated the conversation but also admitted they were wrong!! They were just dripping with vulnerability in this episode and ghod don't I know that takes a lot. I must confess I am also terribly excited for their conversation with Eclipse because I feel like, this time around, it will actually be more of a conversation instead of... Lunar talking at Eclipse about how they're not scared of him anymore while Eclipse tries to rile them up.

Because Eclipse is at a place where he has actually changed for the better and because Lunar is at a place where masking doesn't do them good anymore, I feel like they will actually have to both contribute time the conversation instead of it just being like it was last time. I am,,, very hopeful for whatever happens in it, to be quite honest HSJABD

I'll also add that honestly, most of my worries stem from just,,, wondering how this is going to be moving forward. Like, in a more meta sense. Earth had acknowledged that trauma takes a long time to heal, but I worry that process may be sped up for the sake of videos. Not to mention, Earth honestly has every right to be upset at Lunar, like, forever tbh. They did something that is going to affect her for the rest of her life. I'm worried this is gunna be, like,,, a wedge between them for good.

I actually have a lot of thoughts abt how things were and are and will be around this but uhm I have talked so much longer than I intended to so that's all for now. Overall, happy with this direction!!

[ilysungho]

hiya!!! i’d love if you were to write 10 & 11 for myungjae?💓💓🥺

a/n: i think i got carried away… enjoy~ here is the full list to request your own prompt x member!wc: 0.78k contains: dom!myungjae x sub!reader, myungjae established as an idol, established relationship (bf/gf), couple don’t live together, use of nicknames (baby), just very soft and intimate, penetrative sex (p in v), lower case intended, prompts italicized

with award season coming up, your boyfriend jaehyun had been more than stressed every day. most days he wouldn’t even come back home until 2am, having to immediately leave for work again by 5am.

you usually don’t stay up too late, being in bed by around 11am at night (although you stay up if jaehyun says he’s coming after practice!). but even if you go to sleep, you had given him an extra key to your place in case he needed a getaway from his dorm or work.

today had been a particularly stressful day of practice. he got off of work at 1am and left for your place without saying a word to anyone, but his members knew, and frankly begged for that to happen since they knew only you could get him out of the anger and stress he’s been feeling this whole day.

jaehyun: hi baby. i’m on my way 1:07am

he knew you wouldn’t read or text back so he was thankful he had the key to your place.

reaching soon after, he entered and removed his shoes, already feeling relaxed through the scent of you that lingered in the air. walking over to your room, he admired your sleeping beauty before getting into bed and facing you.

“baby, i’m here” he whispered, giving a soft kiss to your lips, earning a soft “mm” in return. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, murmuring a soft i miss you against his lips and getting a kiss in return.

your lips stayed locked together, with jaehyun growing feverish against you. he missed your touch and has wanted nothing more than you to be by his side since the start of rehearsals for the end of year stages. sharing soft kisses in the dead of the night made him think about you and how you could get rid of every worry on his mind. his hold onto you got stronger as he pulled you closer to him and continuously gave you kisses, each one lasting longer than the previous.

pulling you by your waist and slowly getting on top of you, the air between the two of you started to get intense. every kiss got met with a moan. every moan got met with a groan. hips started grinding between the two of you while you tugged at his shirt.

“do you want to go further y/n? tell me to stop now otherwise i won’t be able to stop for the rest of the night…”

a whispered “please” slipped out of kiss bitten lips as you watched your boyfriend sit up to take his shirt off and do the same to you. his lips found a new spot at your neck as he nibbled on the supple skin, leaving pink and red marks he would then lick and kiss over. you winced and moan, a pool starting to form in your panties. jaehyun wouldn’t stop now that he got to your neck; he had to go all the way. the once soft kisses you shared between each other turned into a taste of ecstasy. once you started, you could never get enough of the other.

the wetness in your panties was enough to let jaehyun know that you were ready to take him. he took off any remaining clothes the two of you hadn’t already removed, getting his already hard dick ready to thrust into you.

a sharp exhale left both your lips as he inserted into your aching hole. you pulled his face up to yours to face him and resume kissing each others bruising lips. he didn't care anymore if anyone noticed how different his lips looked compared to the day before. all he knew was how he badly he needed you.

your hips bucked against his, having your juices mix and make everything easier on the two of you. it had been long since you two had made time like this for each other, so the intensity of the night was way higher than normal. amidst the sounds of his dick slapping into you, exasperated kisses, and noises your throats made against one another, everything felt perfect. “you drive me so insane, you don’t even know.” was the last thing said before you bit his lip, signaling that you were coming. jaehyun continued at the pace he was at and you reached your climax first, with him pulling out and cumming on top of your clit right after.

this was everything jaehyun needed. your hardworking boyfriend sunk into your chest and gave you a few more kisses before drifting of to bed beside you, not forgetting to tell you what's in his heart:

"i love you."

[kybercrystals94]

Six Weeks (Part 3)

Read here on Ao3!

<<Previous Part | Next Part>>

Rated: T | Words: 917

A/N: Ugh! This chapter has been giving me the run around; however, I wanted to assure you that I haven't given up on this fic...it's just taking longer than I'd like...so I decided to post what I've written so far with the promise that I will get this story wrangled eventually 🥲

In the Rebellion, Omega is a captain. She has rebel fighters under her command and direction. She gives orders and they are followed. She plans missions and carries them out successfully. She is trusted, respected, and capable of any feat given to her. 

On Pabu…

“You better not try to get up while I’m gone,” Crosshair says, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed. 

Omega sighs, picking at a loose thread on the hem of Wrecker’s old shirt. “Yeah, so you’ve said. Twice.” 

“Because it’s important that you listen.” 

“AZI said I could walk around on my leg as long as I’m careful,” Omega protests, and she hates that her tone comes out almost whiny. “So did the medics at the base. You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”

“Humor us then.” Crosshair doesn’t wait for her to snark something back before he walks away. The front door opens and shuts, and she is left in the quiet house by herself. 

Wrecker is down at the docks to buy fresh fish for dinner, and Hunter still hasn’t returned from wherever he disappeared to. Crosshair didn’t say where he was going; however, Omega hopes that it’s to find Hunter. She’d go herself if it weren’t for the overbearing nanny droid that looks suspiciously like an ex-Republic sniper. 

Omega pulls out her data pad and sends Hera a message. You’ll be happy to know that my brothers are being as insufferable as you hoped.

The reply comes a moment later. Good. I better not see you for six weeks.

Yes, sir, Omega types back, hoping Hera reads it with its intended sarcasm. 

That taken care of, Omega tosses her data pad to the other end of the couch and sinks back into cushions. She looks around the main room, searching for things that might have changed while she’s been away; however, it is exactly as she remembers. Her brothers’ valiant attempts at home decor are still scattered throughout the room. Endearing eyesores, Echo had called them once when Omega complained about Wrecker putting up a piece of rusted metal he’d fished out of the sea.  

“He said it’s his favorite shape,” Omega had groaned, laughing. “I don’t even know what that shape is!” 

Hunter had bought a painting from the market that he claimed was abstract art; however, everyone knew that it was just a horribly, awfully painted tooka. Its eyes seemed to follow you around the room, becoming an inside joke: the tooka sees everything. However, Hunter will defend the “art’s” honor to his dying breath. 

Then there was Crosshair’s contribution, which Omega swears he did just because he knew it would annoy her. He collects rocks. Not pretty or unique rocks. Plain, nondescript, ugly rocks. He keeps hanging up shelves to display them on, and he makes them placards to note where they were found and the date.

“Rock.” Found: South Beach, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 15 BBY. 

“Rock.” Found: Left Boot, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 12 BBY. 

Omega does notice that a shelf has been added and a new row of rocks begins to line the plank of wood. She rolls her eyes. Omega decides that she will not give her brother the satisfaction of knowing whether or not she’s noticed. The perfect payback, because she knows he’ll never ask. 

**

“We’ve had worse injuries,” Crosshair says behind him. 

Hunter scoffs, seizing another weed by its base and yanking it out of the ground. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“No,” Crosshair says, moving to lean against the wall, “just stating a fact.” 

“Appreciate it,” Hunter growls, rummaging through the foliage of the garden for another imposter. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t storm further away from the house.”

“I didn’t storm.” 

Crosshair huffs. “You had us fooled.” 

Hunter sits back on his heels and glares up at his youngest brother. “If you’re out here just to offer commentary, I really don’t need it right now.” 

“Oh, really,” Crosshair drawls. “And what do you need?” 

“I need to not think about it right now,” Hunter bites out, dusting the dirt from his hands. “I don’t want to think about Omega almost dying. I don’t want to think about her putting herself at risk every single day. I don’t want to think about the fact that we aren’t there to protect her because…” 

“We’re old?” Crosshair supplies.

Hunter makes a face. “That’s not why.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Whatever our reasons are for not fighting, it doesn’t matter…Omega’s made her choice. So don’t think about all that entails right now…because you have no control over any of it anyways. Instead, think about the fact that Omega’s stuck with us for the next six weeks and what we’re going to do with her while she’s in captivity.”

Hunter scoffs, moving to stand up and accepting Crosshair’s outstretched hand when it’s offered. “I forgot how poetic you are.” 

“One of my many talents,” Crosshair says loftily, but he moves his hand to Hunter’s shoulder, gripping it tight. “But I mean it, Hunter. We’re going to put our opinions aside, enjoy the time we have with her. Yeah?” 

Hunter swallows and nods. 

“Good.” 

As they start for the back door, Crosshair asks, “Do you think Omega’s noticed my new shelf of rocks.” 

Hunter grins. “She won’t say if she has.” 

“Brat,” Crosshair grumbles. 

“Says the one who keeps a rock collection just to annoy her,” Hunter says, bumping against Crosshair. 

Crosshair smirks. “A foundless accusation.”

TBC

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[space-1z-cool]

one of the rebloggers ( @koredria ) made some good points in the tags abt caitvi's relationship at the end esp being very intentional and showing the importance of forgiveness and moving on from the past. and I do understand that is the overarching message and wanted to bring attention to it bc that isnt something i touched upon in my initial ramble. also if you dont go back to read her tags (i highly reccommend you do!!) she was not disagreeing w me necessarily and what im abt to say is also not necessarily disagreeing w her!

I do also want to reemphasize my statement of being willing to change my opinion on Cait when i see solid proof of changed behavior. Because to me, while forgiveness and moving on are important, you cant do that if the person's behaviors and attitudes stay the same. And if you notice in the AU that Ekko visits, where Vander is forgiven by Silco and theyre able to move forward to create a better future, That also required a change in actions and not just simple forgiveness. There was likely a lot of offscreen work on their relationship and behaviors in order to reap such great benefits. And the reason we know it was success and that they have changed their behavior was because of their relationships and we see Zaun is actively changed for the better. Also, because Silco found Vanders letter (relatively earlier we can assume by the state of Zaun) There was less harm to take accountability for. There was less trust to be rebuilt and less damage to be fixed. (in comparison to the Main Universe)

And we have begun to see some changes in caits actions towards the end of act 3, but we dont know if those changes are permanent. She has been shown to switch-up on her treatment of people. Her Actions caused so much harm and pain that in order to forgive and move forward she has to take accountability and work to be better. Only once she is making that progress can forgiveness and moving on begin.

This came out much longer of a post than i intended but i am very greatful for the interaction and conversations :] I enjoy discussing this show and its intricacies and hearing other people's thoughts and opinions on it all. i have so many thoughts that its hard to share them in a cohesive manner. :3

arcane s2 spoilers

why i hate cait+caitvi ship. mostly cait. (and no, its not because i hate seeing lesbians winning.)

starting off, Cait was literally one breakup + death of a loved one away from becoming a full on fascist. also i cant just pass over Cait calling Zaunites animals, and literally GASSING THEM (after previously trying ti convince the council to not gas them). also referrjng to vi like "i thought you were one of the good ones", and trying to guilt her into joining the same group that KILLED HER PARENTS. Which by the way, unlike caitlyn's mom, didnt GET a proper funeral. Or any dignity upon their death. Hell, most people from zaun dont usually get to have the closure of a proper funeral from what we see in the show.

So many people in Zaun have gone through what cait has been OR WORSE. And they didnt try to gas marginalize groups.

There are parallels between jinx and cait ofc. But to me the main difference is that Jinx's actions (though not entirely excusable) are explainable by her trauma, by the fact that The council and Enforcers are the direct reason for her and all of zaun's suffering. She bombs her oppressors. Cait mass-gasses the undercity over jinx fighting back. Cait's actions are not explainable by anything other than prejudice.

She does start to have a redemption arc. Which okay whatever fine. But to me, before i change my opinion of her i need to see more proof that she changed other than she's just with Vi now. which probs wont happen cus s2 is over.

They are cute together and im glad vi is happier now, but really???? out of all the hot bitches, you choose someone who started a war against your sister and gassed zaun again??? i question your taste in women my friend.

[personthattoleratesme]

So, you want to study new phannies?

well, same, i don't know what happened to me either but let me try to explain, you might find it amusing

you see, I'm 19 now, so back when they first were active i wasn't enough chronically online to be obsessed with any internet personality. (for reference, i was five when dan posted his first video.)

then covid and lockdowns happened and through some twists and turns i was catapulted deep into the 1D fandom, more specifically the larry portion of it. it was incredibly toxic and unhealthy, but it was also so much fun and taught me a lot about fandom and shipping culture. i eventually moved on into much healthier fandom spaces and honestly thought (and hoped) i was over being a fan of Real Living Human Beings.

now, i had obviously heard of dan and phil before but never watched any of their videos. so when they announced the return of dapg and everyone here freaked out about it i thought, eh, might as well take a look.

i don't know what it was about them, their dynamic, the casual happy queerness, the way they love and care for each other, their little stupid quirks, dan's way with words, but it pulled me in so damn quickly. so far i have no regrets, watching them is so nice and comforting.

however it also felt so intoxicatingly familiar to when i first got into larry, which scared me at first because i did not want to go back to anything like that time of my life. by now i have realised that this is different. it feels like a better version of whatever i had going on back then, because this time there is no need for wild speculations and intrusive theorising. them being themselves and sharing what they want to share is more than enough. maybe it's just hopeful thinking but i feel like it is actually possible to have a healthy parasocial relationship with them.

i might have missed it just a teeny tiny bit.

also!!! i feel like i picked the exact right time for this new obsession because there's so much going on, it's so fun and i amm excited for the future!

dunno if the tumblr phandom is the right place for me, right now i am pretty content with just lurking and watching you guys do your thing

with love,

a new phannie

first of all i want to say welcome new phannie! i hope you enjoy and benefit from the enrichment of our little corner of the internet.

i really enjoyed reading your story. as soon as i read larry i had a visceral full-body reaction ngl, i'm so sorry you went through that.

you have really chosen an excellent time to become a phannie. the toxicity is mostly out of the fandom, dnp are in control of the narrative now, and we don't have to deal with all the phan proof shit anymore.

it gives me so much joy that nowadays their queer happiness can be a factor in becoming a fan of theirs. there's just something so special about how after everything they've been through - and everything we've been through as phandom - that there is now this wonderfully queer and happy space that can feel safe and inviting for young queer people.

i really hope that this parasocial relationship with them will turn out to be what you're looking for. when i was a teenager they helped me through so much, and now that we're all older and have been able to grow as people i think we genuinely have a very good and healthy parasocial relationship with them as a fandom.

thank you so much for your sharing your story, i genuinely find it so fascinating to learn about 2023 phannies.

you're totally welcome to lurk here for as long as you want. i was a lurker for a long time cause phannie tumblr kind of scared me. i used to only exist in the anon asks of other users and feel free to do the same.

now i want to know: what was your first dnp video?

[shesnake]

hello here's my little Armand essay. spoilers for season 2 and content warnings for discussions of racism, csa, intimate partner violence.

[mistyffa]

Something I've been thinking about a lot recently is working with another feeder to blow up a feedee...

Especially if they're starting at the same size as us. Just having a cute NEET girl move in with us, her body all tight and toned. It starts small with my partner and I cooking her bigger meals than she's used to, always with a healthy slab of butter. There's always snacks lying around the house, specially curated to her tastes so she forgets she's even overeating. After a few months she's developed a nice, soft layer of pudge over her entire body, her hips are a little wider, a bit of a double chin is coming in, her belly pushes against her leggings and dresses, and she's started to slow down a little.

Then the weight starts to pile on faster. Depending on each of our moods, one of us feeds her more intently while the other comforts her and takes care of the house. Sometimes for fun we'll whisper about her progress just loud enough for her to hear us from the next room. We talk about how much thicker and softer her thighs are, how her tits have gotten fuller, how cute she looks when she's snacking on the couch. Then we act surprised when we walk into the den and see her double-fisting a soda and an ice cream sandwich with a sly grin on her face. By this point she's solidly chubby; her thighs and belly jiggle when she walks, and she hasn't quite realized the wardrobe she started out with is much too small for her now. She totally fills her athletic shorts, which nowadays she only uses to lounge around the house, and she always needs one of us to help clasp her bra.

Fast forward another year or so, and she's completely puffed up. She'd put on at least a hundred pounds and gone through two wardrobes. The first time she popped the buttons off a pair of pants, we went out for dinner to celebrate, but now it's become a regular occurrence. Her days all blend together for the most part. My partner and I would set up our work schedules so one of us will always be home with her, preparing her meals and feeding her so she doesn't have to waste any calories standing by the stove or moving the food from her plate to her mouth. Essentially every waking moment for her is spent completely stuffed. On weekends, when we're all home together, we like to have a little extra fun. My partner and I would cook her at least five full meals a day, each a couple thousand calories, with lots of snacks and sweets in between. When she's not eating she's splayed out on the couch, puffing on her wax pen. One of us cuddles her, rubbing her belly and squeezing her tits, whispering teasing words into her ear. The other kneels on the floor between her legs, holding her gut out of the way while she eats her out. Then the timer goes off, and it's back to pigging out.

At night, we'd stand her up in front of a mirror and point out every new stretch mark and curve. We'd talk to each other about how much we loved her huge hips and her hanging gut, how cute her plush arms are, how fun it is to cup her double chin when we kiss her. We never address her directly so she can squirm in her overwhelming horniness. Sometimes we like to pull out her old clothes and help her try them on. Lately it's taken both of us just to pull her old tshirts down over her belly and breasts, at least twice as wide as they used to be.

She loves it though. She loves the attention, the humiliation, the constant care, the approval she gets when she outgrows another outfit. She loves nothing more than lounging around all day, stuffing herself to her heart's content, smoking pot, and watching TV.

And we love it too, of course. Watching her grow and settle into her new body, then do it all again. Doing everything for her. Talking about our plans for her. Our next goal is to make her big enough that she needs help standing, which doesn't seem too far off, seeing as she's already huffing and puffing every time she needs to get up on her own. And we can't wait.

[cowboygideon]

I love so much how every time we see art and patrick before knee-gate, they're eating (or drinking) something "unhealthy." Like the hotdogs and the churros and the cigarettes, of course (which I'm now realizing are all phallic symbolism LMAO) plus the coca-colas and the beer. Because it just furthers this idea that Patrick is a kind of corrupting force to Art, who we know, as Ice, is a very controlled person. And then, during their final game, you have Art with his fuckass protein paste, or whatever, but Patrick with the banana, which obviously isn't unhealthy, but still something much more akin to the food of your average person—and he offers it to him! Jokingly, yeah, because he knows he's not going to take it, but also, like offering his hand, inviting Art to take part in his own corruption once again. Plus, a banana?? Could they have found a more dick-like food? Insanity.

Also I like that the one scene we have of the throuple in a room together (the party notwithstanding), Tashi is also drinking the beer. Because Patrick stokes the fire in her too, brings out a part of her that Art alone doesn't.

I was thinking about this because I saw a cut scene in the script, where Tashi and Art smoke a cigarette, and I found it really interesting. Because, for one, I understand why they'd cut it, since such a big part of the artashi dynamic is restraint, repression, both pushed further into the frigid parts of their personalities, so having them do something like that without Patrick around might remove some of that. But ALSO I think it was such a good scene because they both start coughing during it, and it sort of feels like their trying to make up for Patrick's absence with each other, but they fail. They need Patrick to push them completely out of their comfort zones—or else they'll just keep toeing that line between the familiar and the unfamiliar, safety and freedom.

Anyway, in conclusion, welcome back Adam and Eve and that fucking snake, enjoy your apple [polyamory].

[3-aem]

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[dragonanon]

can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that “Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[oilith]

Do you have any Lilith headcannonsss

LISTEN, i had this MASSIVE post about all the headcanons in my drafts, but i accidentally posted it and had to delete it 😭😭

But here are a few i have 🥲

She's a chain-smoker, and tries to quit every now and then, always failing miserably

She has a lot of tattoos, mostly her arms

Uses a concealment stone to hide some of her eyebags, freckles, and a scar on her lip along with other "imperfections". As time goes on after they beat Belos, she does it less and less, as she learns to love herself

She's been teaching Amity since she was 4

She's about 270cm

Lilith thought she was a lesbian, but discovered later on that she's actually an aroace lesbian. She had a couple of gfs, one of them she actually stayed friends with (my oc i haven't posted yet lol)

Darius and Lilith are besties. And gym buddies. You can't tell me they don't work out together

She likes sewing and does it regularly

She just. Can't cook. AT ALL. A tale says she burned water once

Definetly a writer