#(casting petty curses) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzyiii · 2 months ago

Note

hi!! i have a request! what about a one shot for aemond x reader who is betrothed to him. she’s a baratheon girl or something but she gifts him the sapphire for his eye as a wedding gift or something along the lines of that?

ask and you shall receive...

The Sapphire Gift

pairing | aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

word count | 5.1k words

summary | Of all his five daughters, Borros Baratheon has chosen you to be betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, much to your dismay. Seeking to forge a deeper connection with your betrothed, you decide to create the perfect wedding gift for him.

tags | fluff, fluff, toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, aemond literally does not know how to communicate or court a lady, sarcastic!reader, awkward!reader, simp!Aemond, reader is just a typical seventeen-year-old girl, lowkey got second hand embarrassment writing this.

a/n | ooooh, this was so cutesy to write, I love writing awkward/sassy reader and simp/awkward aemond. Finished this in a solid 2 days💪. ALSOO I need moots, so anyway wanna volunteer as tribute????

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why must it be me?”

Your voice echoed through the grand hall of Storm’s End, the walls adorned with the sigil of the mighty Baratheons. You stood before your father, Borros Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, arms crossed defiantly, your brows knit in frustration.

“Because I have chosen you,” he replied, a casual shrug dismissing your protests, as he lounged upon the imposing ironwood throne that commanded the room. The flickering torches cast shadows across his weathered face, but his resolve remained steadfast.

Your heart sank further as you protested, “You have four other daughters to choose from!”

Borros began to tally your sisters on his fingers, his expression serious yet unconcerned. “Cassandra is already pledged to House Brownhill, Maris is too old to be of interest, and Floris is still but a child. Ellyn might have been a contender, but she reminded me that you are more closely aligned in age to the prince, which I daresay makes you more appealing to his eye.”

You bit back a curse aimed at Ellyn, whose selfishness felt like a betrayal in this moment, and muttered, “Emphasis on the word ‘eye’.”

“Fawn!” your father snapped, the nickname a remnant of your childhood, now wielded like a blade.

With a huff, you cast your gaze towards your mother, Lady Elenda, seated on a modestly adorned stool that contrasted starkly with your father’s opulence. Her fingers deftly worked at her embroidery, her belly round and pregnant with another child. “Mother, do you have naught to say about this?”

Elenda blinked slowly, her expression momentarily vacant before she smiled dreamily, “I have heard the prince is kind and benevolent,” she replied, her tone light and airy as your father nodded approvingly at her words.

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest in disbelief. “That is a complete and utter falsehood! Tales of his cruelty and wickedness abound, even in these halls. How could you deceive me so?”

Borros waved a dismissive hand, the irritation brewing like a storm within him. “So what if he has but one eye? He commands Vhagar, the largest dragon in the realm, and wields a sword as if it were an extension of his very arm. You shall ascend to the rank of princess, lacking for nothing.”

“But Father—”

“Enough!” His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls and silencing the murmurs of guards and servants alike. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down upon you. Sighing heavily, you rolled your eyes, the gesture laden with pettiness. “This matter is settled. Prepare yourself; tonight we shall feast in honor of your betrothal. Do not sulk—it is unbecoming of a future princess.”

With a final glare that could wither a flower, you turned on your heel, storming away from the throne room, your heart heavy with the weight of your new fate.

King’s Landing was an entirely different realm compared to the windswept fortress of Storm’s End. Here, the sun cast a golden glow over the Red Keep, its warmth caressing the bustling streets of Flea Bottom, while in your home, rain seemed a constant companion, drenching the rugged cliffs and soaking through the halls of your ancestral seat.

The city thrummed with life—vibrant and teeming—overwhelming in its sheer size and noise. In contrast, Storm’s End felt desolate, where the only sounds were the howling gales and crashing waves that eternally assaulted its walls.

Settling into the royal court at the Red Keep was no easy feat, for you were keenly aware of the eyes that followed your every move. You quickly learned that here, every smile concealed secrets, and every word was a weapon to be wielded.

Queen Alicent Hightower, the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, carried herself with grace befitting her station. Her demeanor was gentle, yet there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at the strength behind her polished exterior. On your very first day in court, she welcomed you with a kind smile, her piety clear as she extended an invitation to join her at the Great Sept for prayer.

Her tone was soft, but her words carried the weight of duty. You accepted her offer, though the idea of spending time in such hallowed halls made you uneasy. Alicent's warmth masked the political currents swirling beneath the surface, and you were acutely aware that every gesture here had meaning beyond what was said.

Then there was her eldest son, Prince Aegon. The first time you laid eyes on him, he reeked of wine, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Despite his title, he carried none of the nobility one would expect from a dragon’s heir. His indulgences were well-known, and his lack of decorum often left the court murmuring in hushed tones.

Aegon's gaze lingered on you far too long for comfort, the weight of it unsettling, as if he sought something that wasn’t his to take. His lecherous nature made you feel for his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, who appeared as trapped by her marriage as she was by the walls of the Red Keep. It was said that Aegon had grown old before his time, his twenty-one years bearing the burden of his vices.

Princess Helaena was a stark contrast to her husband. There was an otherworldly grace to her, a softness that seemed untouched by the cruelties of life. She spoke in riddles, her voice often drifting into ethereal musings that left you both puzzled and intrigued. Her words, though strange, reminded you of the whispers of the gods in dreams, distant yet profound.

Her presence was soothing, and you found solace in her company, even if her mind wandered to places you could not follow. Her children, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were a light amidst the shadows of the court, their laughter pure and untainted by the scheming that surrounded them. It was hard to reconcile that they were the offspring of Aegon.

But your thoughts always returned to one person—your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the moment you arrived in King’s Landing, you had been told stories of his fearsome prowess in battle, his unmatched skill with the sword, and the fearsome dragon, Vhagar, that answered his call.

Yet when your eyes met his for the first time, what struck you most was not his strength but the scar that marred his face—a reminder of the price he had paid for his ambition. It only added to his allure, a mark of his relentless determination. When he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, a slow heat rose in your cheeks. His grip was firm but not unkind, and in that moment, you felt yourself swoon. After all, you were just a girl.

However, Aemond was not a man easily won. A moon had passed since your arrival, and with your wedding fast approaching, you had hoped to spend time in his company, to know the man behind the dragonprince’s mask. Yet, he seemed to slip away from you at every opportunity, his presence a fleeting shadow that vanished the moment you tried to reach for him. His evasions frustrated you, each refusal to join you in the gardens or to share a quiet moment only deepened the chasm between you.

It was said that dragons could not be tamed, only respected. But you longed for more than respect from your future husband. How could you hope to win Aemond's heart if he remained as distant as the stars that twinkled in the night sky?

Determined to change your fate, you devised a plan—a gift to offer Aemond before the wedding, something personal and meaningful that might draw him closer to you. From your balcony, you had often watched him train, his sword catching the sunlight as he moved with lethal grace. You had also stalked observed him in quieter moments, lost in the pages of ancient tomes in the Red Keep’s vast library. But no matter the scene, your gaze always drifted to the black leather patch over his left eye, a constant reminder of his loss.

Through whispered conversations among the ladies of the court, you had pieced together the story of that eye, taken from him when he was but twelve, during a violent skirmish with his own nephew. The knife had found its mark, leaving him disfigured and scarred in more ways than one. You could hardly imagine the pain he endured, the maester's delicate, grim task of removing what remained. The very thought sent a chill through you—what it must have felt like to be forever changed, to carry such a wound into manhood.

Jewelry had always enchanted you, especially the way it could transform even the simplest of gowns into something regal. And it was through that love of adornment that inspiration struck. Aemond needed something beautiful, something that would not only adorn him but perhaps bring a glimmer of warmth to that hardened exterior.

After much thought, you settled on a sapphire, deep and blue like the narrow seas, cut and shaped like an eye—a symbol of his lost strength and newfound resilience. It was a bold choice, one that you hoped would capture his attention, something that might resonate with the prince who had suffered so much.

With the sapphire crafted into an exquisite piece of jewelry, you wrapped it carefully, your heart filled with anticipation. The wedding drew closer with each passing day, and the idea of giving Aemond this token before the vows were exchanged consumed your thoughts. Would such a gift be enough to draw him out of the shadows, to make him see you as more than just his betrothed but as someone who truly wished to know him?

Desperation fueled your resolve. You decided to visit his chambers, scandalous though it might be, under the cover of night. It was unheard of for a lady to seek out a man in such a manner, but propriety seemed insignificant in the face of your growing desire to understand him.

Wrapped in a dark cloak to hide your identity from prying eyes, the gift cradled carefully in your hand, you navigated the winding, dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The moon hung high above the castle, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls as you walked with purpose toward his door.

Apprehension seized you as you approached, a wave of doubt crashing over you. What if he rejected your offering? What if he saw it as nothing more than a futile attempt to win his affection, which it kind of was. Yet before those thoughts could take root, you steeled yourself and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Moments passed in silence, each one stretching endlessly until, at last, you heard the soft thud of boots approaching from within. The door creaked open, and there he stood—Prince Aemond Targaryen. His long, silver hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, almost camouflaged against the loose white shirt he wore, which clung to the contours of his lean, muscular frame.

His single violet eye regarded you with a mixture of surprise and caution, the flickering light of the torches casting shadows across his sharp features. You found yourself momentarily breathless, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his presence.

His gaze flicked to the dark cloak you wore, then back to your face, a question lingering unspoken between you. “My lady,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate, “it is late.”

You nodded quickly, casting a nervous glance down the dimly lit corridor. “Yes, I realize. May I come in?”

His lips tightened as though he was about to refuse, but before the words could escape him, you slipped past the threshold into the warmth of his chambers, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze darting around the room, absorbing the details: the few books strewn across the table, the rich, intricate tapestries that adorned the stone walls, and the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth.

Aemond's voice was closer than expected when he spoke again. “My lady,” he repeated, causing you to jump slightly at his nearness.

You turned abruptly, releasing a nervous laugh. In the next moment, you remembered the purpose of your visit and hastily thrust the small, wrapped parcel into his hands. “I—I’ve brought you a gift.”

His brow furrowed in surprise as he looked down at the object now resting in his palm. “A gift?”

You offered a tight, awkward smile, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “A wedding gift, of sorts.”

You watched intently as he carefully opened the small package, revealing the deep blue sapphire you had commissioned. His expression remained guarded, though curiosity danced in his gaze. “What is this for?” he asked, his voice even.

Swallowing hard, you wrung your hands together and took a deep breath. “I thought… perhaps you might wear it in place of your eye patch.”

Aemond's eyebrow arched, his lone eye narrowing in sharp scrutiny. “A decoration for my injury?” There was no malice in his tone, but the words still cut deep.

Your heart sank, panic rising in your chest as you hurried to explain. “No, no! Not like that. I only thought…” Your voice faltered as the words tumbled out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I thought the eye patch might be… suffocating at times. The sapphire—it’s strong and regal, like you. I thought it might be more—well, appealing. Not that your injury is unappealing, of course!”

You cringed inwardly, realizing how foolish you must sound. Eyes cast downward, you continued, “Sapphires are a symbol of wisdom, strength, and royalty. It felt fitting for you. But if I’ve overstepped, I’ll take it back.” You bit your lip, the weight of your own awkwardness pressing down on you. “Truly, it’s alright.”

Reaching out to reclaim the stone, you found your hand halted by his. His touch was firm, yet not unkind. “No,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I accept your gift, my lady.”

Relief flooded through you, though you could hardly bear to meet his gaze under the weight of your own mortification. Without thinking, you blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh! I just remembered—I’m to have tea with your mother.”

Aemond's gaze drifted to the window where the full moon hung high in the night sky. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle amusement curling at the edge of his lips. “At this hour?”

You nodded hastily, your laugh high-pitched with nerves. “Yes, well, a late tea, you see.”

Before he could respond further, you turned toward the door, only to misjudge the frame and bump into it with an audible thud. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I wish you a good night, my prince,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you hurried out.

As you fled down the darkened corridor, you missed the rare sight behind you—the amused smirk that tugged at Aemond's lips and the way his expression softened as he gazed down at the sapphire, the light of the fire casting its blue hue across his hand. Intrigue flickered in his eye, a hint of something deeper, as he tucked the gem into his palm, the gift having made a more lasting impression than you could ever have imagined.

And now it was you doing everything in your power to avoid your betrothed. After that utterly humiliating encounter, where you had gifted Prince Aemond the sapphire for his eye, you had nearly thrown yourself from the balcony in shame. Every misstep, every nervous word, echoed relentlessly in your mind. The way he had looked at you, as though you were nothing more than a foolish girl… you could hardly bear it.

That night, you had made peace with a simple truth: it was perfectly acceptable if Aemond did not like you. You would fulfill your duty as his wife, give him heirs, and that would be the extent of your relationship. Yet, even as you tried to harden your heart, you couldn’t deny the yearning deep within you for something more—a connection, affection, or at the very least, understanding. But you’d sooner face a dragon than approach him again after such mortification.

Now, you found refuge in the company of Princess Helaena, sharing tea in her sunlit solar, where tapestries of butterflies and flowers adorned the walls. Helaena sat in her usual reverie, speaking in disjointed whispers about dreams and prophecies. You had grown fond of her strange, otherworldly nature, even if much of what she said left you puzzled.

Today, however, your tea was constantly interrupted by the young Princess Jaehaera, who was determined to climb into your lap as you attempted to drink. “You have such pretty hair,” she said, her small hands reaching to touch the loose strands that framed your face, her voice filled with innocent awe.

You smiled warmly, gently lifting a strand of her silver-gold hair to place beside your own. “Not as pretty as yours, my sweet princess,” you said softly. The Targaryen blood ran strong in the little girl, her pale locks shimmering like spun moonlight under the midday sun.

As Jaehaera continued to braid a piece of your hair, her twin brother, Prince Jaehaerys, was nestled in your lap, completely absorbed in a heavy tome recounting Aegon the Conqueror’s rise to power. You marveled at the child’s focus, noting how his somber demeanor contrasted starkly with his sister’s. It was strange, you thought, for a boy of only five summers to be so intent on reading a history so grim. His brow furrowed in concentration, a seriousness far beyond his years.

"You’ll grow to be as wise as your grandsire with all this reading, my prince," you commented with a chuckle, though you could not help but feel a touch of unease at how much the young boy seemed to carry the weight of his family’s legacy on his small shoulders.

Jaehaera giggled, abandoning your hair to cling to your arm. “I want to ride a dragon, like Vhagar!”

The mention of Vhagar brought an involuntary shiver down your spine, the thought of that ancient, fearsome beast ever-present in your mind. The mighty she-dragon’s rider, your betrothed, had taken to avoiding you as much as you had him, and though part of you was relieved, another part, buried deeper, ached at the distance.

As you entertained the children, Princess Helaena’s lilting voice broke the calm. "He dreams of fire and blood, my son," she said, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the window, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. "As do we all."

You offered a polite smile, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent..

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, you immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, warmth flooding your cheeks as fluttering butterflies stirred restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, his very presence commanding the room without a single word.

You felt his gaze upon you, sharp and intense. Jaehaera squealed with delight beside you, calling out, “Kepūs!” Her excitement was palpable as she clambered off your lap, rushing to his side. Even Jaehaerys, who had been so engrossed in his book, set it aside to greet his uncle.

You dared a glance up to find something unexpected—a soft, almost tender smile tugging at Aemond’s lips as he looked down at the children. The rare sight caught you off guard, but before you could process it, his expression shifted, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to Helaena.

“Sister,” he began, his voice steady, respectful yet commanding. “Might I steal a moment of Lady Baratheon’s time?”

Helaena, oblivious to the way your pulse quickened, nodded lightly, her gentle smile untouched by the tension you now felt. “Of course, brother,” she replied, her tone light and dreamlike, as though she sensed nothing of the undercurrent between you and Aemond.

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you—Helaena’s distant curiosity, Jaehaera’s wide-eyed innocence, and Aemond’s watchful, unreadable gaze. You rose slowly from your seat, smoothing the folds of your gown as you murmured a soft farewell to the princess and her children, acutely aware of how unsteady your voice sounded.

Aemond stood patiently, waiting as you gathered yourself. His tall figure loomed over you, but there was no sense of impatience in his posture. When you stepped out of the solar, he turned and led the way into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls in perfect rhythm with yours.

The silence between you grew heavier with each step, and the farther you ventured down the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, the more you became aware of where he was leading you—back toward his chambers.

Your palms began to sweat, and your heart pounded with a growing unease. Why had he sought you out? Why now, after so many days of avoidance?

The corridor felt impossibly long, each step building the tension. Aemond’s back remained straight, his silver hair brushing the fabric of his black tunic, his long strides forcing you to quicken your own pace just to keep up.

When you finally reached the familiar door to his chambers, he paused, turning to face you, his one violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The silence stretched, thick and charged, as though the air between you crackled with words unspoken.

"You’ve been avoiding me, my lady," Aemond murmured, his piercing gaze sweeping over you as you walked into his chambers.

Your eyes widened just a fraction, masking your surprise with a nervous laugh. “Why on earth would you insinuate something like that?”

His voice, soft but steady, echoed from behind you as you stepped further into the dim warmth of his room. "Perhaps because every time I enter a room, you are always the first to leave."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you murmured, "I suspect you are just seeing things, my prince."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he replied, “Mayhaps it’s just my one eye.”

Your head snapped up in shock at his words, but before you could respond, you noticed the faint curve of amusement in his lips. For the first time since your engagement, you let out a genuine laugh, tilting your head. “Oh, so you can jest,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose in playful disapproval. “Though your delivery needs some work.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “I shall endeavor to improve,” he replied with dry humor, his voice low.

For a moment, your eyes locked, the silence between you charged with a tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. But then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I called you here for a reason,” he said, his tone shifting as he turned away, walking toward his desk.

Your curiosity piqued as you watched him retrieve something—a finely crafted box, larger than you expected. He carried it with the same ease as he handled his sword, and yet there was a certain weight to his movements. He approached you, his expression unreadable, and extended the box in an indifferent manner. "A wedding gift," he said simply.

Your heart fluttered as you took the box, your fingers trembling slightly. As you lifted the lid, your breath caught in your throat. Inside lay a necklace—silver, adorned with diamonds that glimmered like starlight, white pearls cascading from its base, and at the center, a magnificent sapphire, almost mirroring the sapphire you had gifted him. It was stunning, more than anything you had ever imagined.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the beauty of the necklace had stolen the air from your lungs.

Aemond’s voice softened, a note of vulnerability threading through his usual composure. “Do you like it?”

You met his gaze, your eyes bright with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Yes, yes, of course,” you breathed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced with something more than just relief.

You looked at him, pure joy lighting up your face, entirely unaware of the soft, almost tender look in Aemond's eye as he observed you. Nodding eagerly, you gestured to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Aemond inclined his head in silence, taking the necklace from its box as he motioned for you to turn around. You did so, gathering your hair and lifting it to reveal your neck. The warmth of his presence grew closer, and when his fingers brushed against your skin to secure the clasp, you couldn’t help but wonder if the caress was deliberate or merely your imagination.

When his hands finally withdrew, you released the breath you had been holding. Turning to face him, you tilted your chin up slightly. "How does it look?"

For a moment, Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, his eye fixed on your face with an unreadable intensity before it drifted down to your neck. "Your neck looks... long."

Your brow furrowed, confusion knitting your features. "My neck looks long?"

Aemond coughed, a rare sign of discomfort, and you could swear you caught the faintest hint of pink on his pale cheeks. He quickly amended his words, mumbling, "I mean, it looks nice. The necklace brings out your eyes."

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Thank you, my prince."

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered to the eye patch that hid his injury, wondering if the sapphire you had gifted him lay beneath. The thought of it being there, close to him, filled you with an unspoken sense of connection. You felt content to simply stand there, the moment shared between you without the need for words. But Aemond, shifting slightly under your gaze, seemed less at ease.

“I am late for training,” he said, his tone distant as though eager to escape.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, tilting your head in mock suspicion. “I thought you only trained in the mornings?”

His posture straightened, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away, clearly caught in his lie. The silence that followed made him glance toward the window. “It’s... a beautiful day.”

You hummed softly in agreement, not pressing him any further. “Yes, it is.”

Aemond hesitated for a moment before his eye met yours again, the faintest trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Mayhaps you would be interested in a walk in the castle gardens?”

Your heart skipped, and it took everything within you to suppress the wide grin threatening to break free. You feigned contemplation for a moment before nodding with as much grace as you could muster. “I would love to, my prince.”

And though Aemond kept his face composed, you couldn’t help but notice the slight softening of his expression at your acceptance.

In Aemond's eyes, despite your apparent obliviousness to his growing feelings, it was not hard to fall in love with you. There was a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, a delicate blend of grace and fire that intrigued him.

He had always been reserved, more comfortable in the company of books and the sound of steel clashing in the training yard than in the presence of others. But with you, there was something different, something that drew him in against his better judgment.

Your laugh, though soft, echoed in his mind long after you left the room. The way your eyes sparkled with genuine warmth when you spoke to him—even when you were nervous—was a stark contrast to the calculated interactions he was used to at court.

You were not scheming, not vying for his favor or power. You were simply... you. And perhaps that was what made it so easy for his walls to crumble, little by little, without even realizing it.

When you smiled up at him, asking him to place the necklace around your neck, his heart had skipped a beat. It was such a simple request, yet the intimacy of it made him feel more vulnerable than any duel or battle could. In those moments, he found himself wondering what it would be like to let his guard down, to let you see the man behind the stoic façade.

Even now, as he led you through the corridors of the Red Keep, heading toward the gardens, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances at you. Your presence beside him felt... right. The idea of loving you was no longer something he fought against; instead, it was a slow, inevitable truth that settled in his chest.

In time, he hoped you would see it too.

Headcannon: reader only sees the sapphire in his eye on their wedding night

Headcannon: this is before the dance of dragons and viserys is still alive

Headcannon: aemond is 18 and reader is 17

Ages of the Baratheon daughters:

Cassandra - 25

Maris - 22

Ellyn - 19

Reader (fawn) - 17

Floris - 13

ALSO you cannot change my mind - after having four daughters (canon) Borros Baratheon is def a girl dad!

Hope you enjoyed 💜

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader

753 notes · View notes

gaddaboutgriffon · 1 year ago

Text

Age reversal

Desiree is tired of losing to Phantom and decided to just go to another city and grant wishes there. She finds a natural portal in the realms and exits it into Gotham. We’ll say she grants a few petty wishes like being taller being prettier ect.

Then she runs across a 12 year old Damian saying he wished he was the eldest brother. She says “As you wish!” And there is the usual sparkle filled puff of purple smoke, but Damian remains the same. It isn’t until he gets a com from Tim a minute later he realizes his mistake.

All the bat kids were deaged to reverse order. Damian 12, Duke 11, Tim 10, Steph 9, Jason 8, Cass 7, and Dick 6.

Fortunately this happens while everyone is in there civil IDs and not actively on patrol. Bruce calls Zatana as this seems like it was a magic curse or something. While Damian is sent on a fetch quest to to round up his siblings and bring them back to the manor. Zatana and later Constantine say that this was caused be an Infinite Realms being and they can’t undo it unless they find the being who cast the spell.

Mean while Danny is wondering why Desiree hasn’t shown up in a while. Shrugs, maybe he is finally catching a break.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #story prompt #batfam #phanfic #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp prompt #the bat kids get deaged #Damian gets to deal with all the headaches of being the oldest

1K notes · View notes

becausebuckley · 1 month ago

Text

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 43!

in which i read a bunch of newly posted fics and began making my way through my marked for later list. it's been another good reading week for sure!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! note that this list contains some fics set during/after season 8, so there might be some spoilers.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

august | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 40.2k | T

Buck, Eddie, Natalia, and Marisol go on a beach vacation in August of 2023. It gets angsty and gay. when i say i DEVOURED this fic... wonderful buddie but the natalie and marisol of it all is just stunning beyond words!

chess inside my chest | detectivemeer/@buick118 | 4.4k | T

They go to El Paso to bring back Christopher. And oh my god there was only one bed. only one bed + go get chris fic = absolutely brilliant!! love the buddie dynamic here <3

close friends (that you lowkey want to fuck, but in a totally platonic way) | rowan_wood/@transboybuckley | 2k | T

Instagram rolls out a new feature, and Buck doesn't totally understand how it works. i love a fic that incorporates texting/social media and this is no exception!! also a big fan of the buck and ravi (and lucy) friendship here!

cold and freezing and barely breathing | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 3.6k | T

After the well collapse, Buck drives Eddie home and takes care of him. Eddie is too tired to argue — and too tired to keep him at arm's length. perfect fic to read with the potential well callback in the next episode <3 i love buck's "are you cold" excuse more than i can express

connected the dots in reverse (but still completed the picture) | letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 51k | T

"Hi everyone and welcome back to our show where we team up to decide if ghosts are real." buck and eddie co-hosting a ghost hunting show <3 i loved the buddie but the supporting cast shines so brightly here as well!! just such a wonderful read <3

cursed | bookinit/@bookinit02 | 2.5k | G

“So you don’t believe in curses,” he says carefully, wrapping his brain around it, “because you think you deserve everything bad that happens to you?” “…Yeah,” Eddie says, after a moment. “That sounds about right.” loveliest episode coda!! buddie phone calls in the middle of the night always hit the spot, and this is a perfect example of that <3

drift past the flowers. | dylaesthetics | 45.9k | T

Buck and Natalia get engaged, and Eddie flees the state about it. A petty email correspondence ensues. the email correspondence here is just perfect. petty and catty and sarcastic but also so full of love and fear and other feelings at times... just beautiful!!

for all the perfect things i doubt | extasiswings/@extasiswings | 5.2k | T

Evan Buckley is really good in bed. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t. literally no character study will ever hit as hard as those examining buck and his relationship to sex. it's an unmatched combination!! this is introspective and intimate and so so good <3

it only takes a taste (when it's something special) | weewooforever | 7k | E

Eddie shifts slightly and clears his throat again. “But can you answer my original question? What’s it like kissing a guy?” so hot and soft and perfect <3 i love this particular flavour of buckfidelity so so much!!

men made of stone and forged in fire (even you deserve to be so softly loved) | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 5.6k | T

A quiet night in and a hand running through his hair, those two simple things usually don't do much to phase the average person. But Eddie is a different story. i love how this fic sets out eddie's relationship with touch, it's so good!! and buck plaing with eddie's hair <3

no one quite like you | hammersmiths/@henswilsons | 10.1k | T

Buck and Eddie’s progression through texts. text fic!! i love text fic!! this is such a lovely look at their relationship developing through the seasons <3

objects in the mirror | SevenSoulmates/@sevensoulmates | 139.1k | E

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out. But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie. telepathic soulmate bond?? and so long?? i am so glad i dug this out of my marked for later list and read through it, it is so so good!!

the place i call home | kaistinlove/@kaistinlove | 10.2k | T

the 5+1 fic where Buck ends up in many different beds throughout the night before finally back to where he actually belongs. such a wonderful look at not only buddie, but also buck's friendship with the firefam!! so brilliant, i particulary loved the ravi bit!

the worm question | One_Small_Writer/@dinosauring130 | 2.8k | G

Buck can't sleep. As he lies awake, a certain question pops into his mind. A question he knows he needs the answer to before he can rest. the softest sweetest late night conversation <3 and the correct answer to the worm question lol i love them so much

vibrant | blueberrytwoberry/@blueberrytwoberry | 8.3k | T

Buck meets his soulmate, misses them, and tries to deal with that. i am obsessed with both the concept of this au and its brilliant execution!! the colours appearing and then fading away at a certain spoilery moment... it's so so well-written and i love buck here so much <3

you're always home (i've been waiting for you to come in) | sibylsleaves/@sibylsleaves | 34.3k | E

Buck moves in. Eddie comes out. Things get a little messy. THIS FIC. oh my i saw the buck and eddie's summer of domestic bliss tag and i thought i was prepared but i was not. just absolutely lovely all around <3

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle’s recs #fic rec list

149 notes · View notes

siribaes · 9 months ago

Text

ANGEL OF MINE (Sequel to Who’s Better Than Me?)

Rio x blackfem!reader (OC - Angel)

“After a plateau in their relationship, Rio sets out to make things right—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: We Need Resolution by Aaliyah, Best Thing by Usher, Take Away by Missy Elliott & Ginuwine, Think Of You by Amerie, Fallen by Mya, Ella Me Levanto by Daddy Yankee

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, ANGST, Some fluff, professing of love, cursing, pinv, r*ugh s*x, cre*m p*e, or*l (fem receiving), Semi Redeemed Rio, Rio being a bedroom bully, with a dash of pettiness again lol, slight use of Spanish, a potential pregnancy, etc. (NOT PROOFREAD/UNEDITED)

AUTHORS NOTE: Genuinely I did not think about writing another part, but some ideas popped up in my head and so here we are lol! this part is kinda long but hope y’all enjoy regardless 💖 GIF CREDIT: by me :)

“How I'm supposed to be to you if you keep squirmin'? Be still,"

Angel couldn’t fully register Rio’s instructions over the pounding of her heart. She shivered, squirming in her spot on the bed. Rio lowered his head, placing small kisses on Angel’s stomach. The softness and warmth of his lips spurred her on even more, Angel began to pull away from Rio's touch.

“Don’t move,” Rio ordered, his large hands held her in place, one of them pressed down on Angel's stomach, "You gonna be good and listen, hm?"

“Yes! I’ll be g-good,” Angel whimpered.

Rio smiled down at her, keeping one hand on her stomach, while the other reached for his hardened shaft. He aligned himself with her dripping core, plunging the tip into her wetness, eliciting a soft moan from Angel. He repeated the movement a few times over slowly easing more of him into her. Angel’s whines grew more desperate with each shallow stroke.

With one last stroke, Rio bottomed out, fully, planting his hands firmly at Angel’s waist.

“Fuck, Angel. So fuckin’ tight,”

Angel’s hands snake up Rio’s back, pulling him towards her, as he began rocking into her.

“Angel,”

“Yes, baby?”

“Angel,”

“Hm?”

“Angel!”

With two snaps from her friend, Benny, Angel was pulled out of her reverie and back into reality.

“You good?” Benny asked as he waved his fork in the air.

“She’s fine,” Keke chuckled, “She’s just having a flashback, of Riooo,”

Angel rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her drink. She leaned back into her seat, looking at the passerbyers. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined brightly, casting down warm rays. After being stuck in the office in the all morning, the change in scenery was much needed.

“Have you talked to him?” Benny mused. He twirled pasta around his fork, before eating a large forkful.

“…No,” Angel sighed.

“Seriously?” Keke asked, eyes wide with shock. “I thought y’all hit it off, literally, after the reunion,”

“We did! And the sex was amazing, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, y'all. So much time has passed, and he's changed so much since we were in high school, I feel like he's not the same boy I once knew,”

"I mean duh, Angel," Keke shrugged, "are any of us who we were 20 years ago?"

"She's right, Angel," Benny added, "None of us are the same as we were back then. It's impossible, babe. It sounds like you more scared of what he does not who is,"

Angel leaned back into her chair; arms folded across her chest. Maybe Benny was right. There was never a moment that passed in the day that she didn't want to be wrapped in Rio's arms. To just be with him. Yet, every time Angel wanted to reach out something stopped her. Everything was different about Rio and seeing him at the reunion was a bit jarring. From his clothes to the way he walked, even that damn eagle tattoo itched on his neck. The way he practically had all of their former classmates fawning over him, laughing at all of his jokes. There was a dangerous charm that Rio possessed. Sure, Angel was used to Rio's boy-ish charms after being on the receiving end of it, but this was something entirely different. It was potent, calculated, and completely irresistible. That was developed from experience, an experience that made Angel think twice.

"By all means, I'm not excusing Rio's, nefarious activities," Benny continued, "I just think you should at least talk to the man. The man, you've been in love with most of your life,"

"And from that glow you've been sporting," Keke added, she paused to a sip from her drink, slurping for dramatic affect. Benny and Angel chuckled, "I know that dick was good. So, take a chance! You'll never know what could happen between you too,"

Angel nodded. For the rest of the day, she pondered Benny and Keke's advice. She had to take a chance, she had to try.

----

It wasn't until 10 PM, when Angel pulled to her home. Arms chalked full of groceries, she wanted to stock up on food and other snacks for her much needed staycation. Angel trudged up the stairs, to her humble bungalow, she fumbled with the straps of the shopping bags and her work purse, trying grab her keys. She quickly opened the door, once inside she locked the door behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Angel didn't bother to turn the light on in the kitchen. Her mind was preoccupied with putting the groceries away so she could take a shower and finally relax. So much that she didn't notice a smoldering, Rio leaned against the refrigerator. He watched her as she unloaded the groceries, not wanting to disturb her just yet. He wanted to admire the way her slacks hugged her curves, just a tad bit longer.

With a grocery bag in hand, Angel turned around, immediately meeting Rio's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Fuck!”

Angel quickly crouched down, grabbing the spilled groceries on the floor. Rio crossed the room in quick strides, bending down to help. A quietness fell over them as they loaded the items into the reusable bag.

“…What are you doing here? How did you get here? You know what don't answer that," Angel sputtered. She sat the bag on her breakfast table. She folded her arms over her chest, “No call, no text. I mean, what the hell Rio?”

His expression was indecipherable as Rio peered at her. His eyes continued to trace over her, as if he was trying to commit her features to memory, as if he really needed to for that matter. Rio tipped his head to the side and scratched the light stubble on his chin.

Angel mentally kicked herself, only Rio could look that dangerously good in minimal lighting. She averted her eyes, looking at the calendar tacked on her fridge, before looking back at Rio.

He shrugged. “I could say the same. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You avoidin’ me?”

Angel scoffed. “First off, I’m not avoiding you. Second, who breaks into someone’s home after not seeing for a couple of weeks—”

“—A month,”

“However, long it was. If you wanted to talk, this isn’t the way to go about it,”

Rio nodded slowly, poking his bottom lip in that ever so subtle way, as he mused over Angel’s words.

“If I called, would you have answered?”

Angel opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it. Truth was, if Rio did call, she wouldn’t have picked up. Not because Angel didn’t want to, it was complicated. The night that they shared was magical, more amazing than anything Angel could ever dream of, but when the sun rose the next morning and reality set in. They were too different, Angel lived a normal life, she loved her job, her friends, her family, even the “Tinkerbell” car she drove. Her life was routine, with a few moments of spontaneity (hooking up with Rio was one of them). Rio’s life she assumed, was nothing but spontaneity, having to always keep one eye open, always looking over one’s shoulder. Adding Rio into the equation was too much. It was easier when they were younger, it was simpler time. Their love came with no extra baggage, it was pure.

Now, things are much different, Rio was different. He’s a crime boss for pete’s sake, and Angel knew that he didn’t want the same things, as she did. Last time she checked, living the life of a criminal didn’t allow for marriage and kids, not in the way Angel wanted anyway.

“Rio,” Angel began, the dropped her arms, and twiddled with her fingers, “you…we, we are just different,”

A deep sigh escaped Rio. When Angel finally met Rio’s gaze she could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, and usual brown eyes carried a hardness in them. Rio ran a hand across her features, rolling his shoulders while doing so.

“You breakin’ my heart, Angelita,” Rio took a few steps forward, now standing only a few away from Angel. He easily towered over her small frame, “what’s so different about me?”

“Y-you’ve changed, I’ve changed,”

“So?”

“So?! This is serious, Rio, are lives are completely different, you don’t want the same things as me,”

“Bullshit. I need real, Angel. Why are you pullin’ away from me?”

“You’re a fucking criminal, Rio!”

A huge wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her, she quickly buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at Rio after saying what she said. How could she react like that? Regardless of her aversion to what Rio does, he deserved more respect than the outburst she just had. This was the man she’s been in love with since she fifteen, he deserved better.

Angel felt Rio gently wrap his hands around hers, and pulled them away from her face. He then tilted Angel’s upwards to meet his gaze. Rio searched her eyes, seeing the guilt in them he softened.

“You scared of me, Angel?”

Angel froze. Her mind traveling back to the night they spent together, and the glimpse gun she saw as she left his place. Her mind drummed up all of the scenarios that could happen, flashes of him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, and his name across the headstone in the graveyard. A future that she never wanted to see, but in a way already happened. A little into Angel's first semester of college, word got out Rio was going to prison, it broke her. She couldn't bear to see him like that or worse, 6 feet under.

So, to answer his question was she scared of Rio, no. Was she scared of what could happen to Rio, absolutely, Angel loved him too much just to be okay with could happen to him. Or what he could do to others.

"Hey, hey," Rio spoke, pulling her focus back to him, "there you go wonderin' again. Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Angel sighed. “...I don’t like what you do,”

Rio dropped his hand away from Angel's chin. He nodded slowly, processing. A quietness fell over them, as they stared wordlessly at one another. Rio's eyes slowly trailed down towards Angel's chest. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, when he reached towards her. Gently, he lifted the necklace she wore. Rio held the angel pendant between his fingers, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the figure's wings.

"You kept it," Rio spoke, his eyes combing over the figure with Angel could only interpret as fondness. Her heart fluttered. "You know, I put in mad work tryna get this. Cutting grass, washing cars, all that shit. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted you to know I loved you,"

"Rio..."

"Por siempre y para siempre, forever and always. That's what's engraved on the wings. Angel, you're my forever, you're my always. It's only been you,"

Angel felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. This is the most vulnerable she's seen Rio, ever. To hear him speak with such sincerity and conviction, Angel couldn't help her heart swell with love.

"My business is my business, and I can't change what I did and all the choices I've made. But being with you made me realize, mama that shit has an expiration date," Rio brought his hands to Angel's face, and cradled her soft cheeks, "I can't promise that I'll magically become a better man over night, but I want to try, for you will. 'Cause I don't wanna loose you mama, not again,"

Without a second thought Angel leans forward and kisses Rio. Their kiss was sweet, tongues moving in tandem as Angel snaked her arms around Rio, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers caress the top of Rio's head, soft touches rubbing at his scalp. Rio lets out a throaty groan, its vibrations straight to Angel's core. A flush of heat rushes through her entire body. She breaks the kiss.

"I wanna try, Christopher," Angel whispers. She nuzzles Rio's nose. He pulls away slightly, to see her face fully. A smile blooms across his face. He kisses her again.

"Yeah?" Rio's smile grows wider seeing the sincerity in Angel's face.

"Yes, baby," Angel nods, biting her lip.

A flicker of lust danced in Rio eyes. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, while his hands drifted towards Angel's bottom. Rio's large hands squeezed and palmed her ass. He landed a firm smack on her ass.

"Rio!"

He chuckled. "Go upstairs, and get on the bed, how I like," Rio mumbled against her cheek, before placing a soft kiss there.

Angel didn't waste any time, she raced upstairs to her bedroom, completely forgetting about her groceries in the kitchen. She kicked off her heels, stripping off her slacks and dress shirt. Angel sat on her bed, legs spread out for him, in only her bra and panties. Coincidently, in his favorite color, green.

Minutes seemed to drawl into hours as Angel waited. Her heart rattled against her chest, as Angel's mind raced at the possibilities of what Rio was going to do to her. Another a minute or so passed when Angel heard Rio's footsteps coming up the stairs.

He appeared in doorway with two bottles of water in hand. He smoothly entered the room, eyes glued to Angel, he settled on a spot in front of Angel's vanity. Rio sat one of the water bottles down on the table, while he opened the other, taking a quick sip. His were so heated, so blazed as they roamed Angel's body. It felt like invisible hands were rubbing and caressing her all over.

"You look good, mama. All spread out for me. Shit, lingerie in my favorite color too..."

"All for you, baby," Angel cooed.

Rio's lips tipped into small smile. He took another swig of water. He sat the bottle down, putting the cap back on.

"I'm not gonna lie, you hurt my feelings, when you went ghost on me..."

"Rio, baby, I'm sorry–"

"Sshhh," Rio hushed Angel with a finger to his lips, "All is forgiven, but you got make it up to me. You gonna make it up to me, darlin'?"

Angel nodded.

"Play with that pussy for me."

Angel slowly peeled out of her panties, making a show out of it, she made sure that Rio got a view of her ass. She flung them to the side, returning her previous position. Widening her legs, Angel's fingers found themselves at her core, swiping at the wetness, she began to rub taut circles on her clit.

"Fuck!" Angel whined.

"Damn..." Rio voice trailed, eyes zeroing in Angel's core. He hummed in satisfaction as fingers began to unbutton his flannel. "You, look so fuckin' good. You close?"

"Yesssss, I'm so close! I need you soooo bad," Angel moaned as her fingers continued to rub tight circles on her clit.

"I got you, just keep going. I wanna see my pretty girl cum for me,"

Angel felt the familiar knot in her belly as her orgasm began to build. Her wetness pooled out of her the more her fingers worked her core. She felt her pussy flutter when Rio peeled out his t-shirt, revealing his svelte frame covered in intricate tattoos. Seeing his rich skin practically covered ink, tipped her over the edge.

"Ooooh, shit, I'm cummin',"

"Mhm, let it out for me, mama," Rio egged her on.

Angel shook as her orgasm coursed through her, wetting up her sheets. She laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as she rode out the aftershocks, her skin tingling with pleasure. Quick taps on her thighs, brought her back, she opened her eyes to Rio looming over her.

"On all fours, darlin',"

Angel obliged. She turned and faced her faced her headboard. She adjusted herself, making sure her the arch in her back was damn near perfect. Rio's belt and zipper clinked and clanked as he undressed himself. His hands palmed her ass, the callused pads of his fingers felt good against her skin. Angel mewled loudly, when she felt Rio's soft tongue lick down her slit.

"Christopher!"

"You taste good. Sweet as fuck," Rio groaned. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, baby. Please don't play with it," Angel turned her head to look at him, biting down her lip. She gazed into his stormy eyes, clouded thick with lust. With one hand, Rio's fingers trailed down Angel's spine, pausing for second. Then landed another firm smack on her Angel's ass. "Baby! Be nice,"

"Nah," Rio stated firmly, he deepened Angel's arch. He adjusted himself, inching his dick closer to Angel's entrance, "You still got some makin' up to do,"

With no warning, Rio plunged into Angel, bottoming out completely. Angel's toes curled, at his fullness and the stretch that only he could give her. He circled himself inside her, pulling himself out, then plunging back in. Rio tightened the grip on Angel's hips as began to rock into her. She gushed and clenched around his member, nails clawing at the sheets below them.

"Goddamn," Rio hissed, "I feel you tightin' around me. You close already?"

"Oh my god! Yes, you fuckin' me so good,"

"Yeaaaah, that's right me, only me. Nobody else, right mama?"

"N-nobody else, baby, shit! I love you so much, Christopher,"

Angel felt Rio's hips stutter at her confession. It only served as more motivation for Rio, spurring him on, he pistoned into Angel faster and harder. He reached downwards, grabbing a handful of her coils, yanking her upwards.

"Say it again," He rasped in her ear.

"I-I-I love you, shit,"

"Again,"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Rio I'm cumming," Angel cried out.

Rio held Angel close, fucking her through her orgasm. Angel shuddered, as she felt her essence drip down her thighs, as Rio continued to thrust into her wildly, kissing and nibbling at her ear lobe. He slowed rhythm of his hips, letting Angel's hair go, placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"You did so good for me," Rio breathed out. He softly patted at Angel's plush thighs, as he slowly pulled out. "Face me,"

Angel shifted around, laying on her back she spread her legs wide. Rio situated himself between Angel's legs. He stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the small squelching noises he made. In one swift motion, Rio plunged himself back in, fully engulfing himself in Angel's wet pussy.

"Fuckkkkkk," Rio growled. Angel whined in response. At this angle, Rio was hitting her spongy spot way deeper than before, causing waves of pleasure to flood her entire body. "Pussy so fuckin', shit, nena,"

Both her heart and her pussy fluttered, seeing the blissed out look on his gorgeous features. Rio was always so controlled and reserved most of them, so to see him like this, guttural, borderline animalistic, Angel loved it. She began to feel him throb inside of her, he was close.

"Mhmm, I feel you, baby. I want you to cum inside me," Angel cooed as she cradled the back of Rio neck.

"Yeah? You want me cummin', inside you. Careful, now. I might fuck around and give you a baby forreal,"

Angel cupped Rio's face, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, nodding her head in a wordless confirmation. Rio's eyes softened, at the realization. He bucked his hips, in deep, desperate strokes.

"Shit! Angelita, you gonna look so good, belly fully, with our baby, fuck. I love you, Angel," He grunted, as his resolve was wearing down by the second. The midst of his brutal thrust, Angel felt another orgasm hurdle towards the surface. Her walls spasmed around Rio's dick, screaming out as she came. "Just like that, fuck, eres mio, todo mio, baby, shit,"

A few strokes were all it took to send Rio over the edge. He buried himself in Angel's neck as his blasted his cum inside of her. Rio groans were muffled against Angel's skin. He held her closed as he shook from the pleasure, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of her. Angel wrapped her legs around him, she didn't want to miss a single drop.

A calmness fell over them, as the breathed in tandem, hearts following the same rhythm. Rio lifted his head up, resting his chin on Angel's chest. Warms hands rubbed soft circles against her skin. He gazed at her, nothing but love and stardust in them.

"You're gonna be a good mom," He mumbled.

Angel smiled softly, she rubbed at his shoulders. "And you're gonna be a good dad. I love you, Christopher,"

"I love you too, mama. Por siempre y para siempre."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #rio x black!reader #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction #rio smut #rio good girls fanfiction

706 notes · View notes

verysium · 1 year ago

Note

This is such crack brain fart idea 😶

What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:

“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”

Have you seen those TikToks???

If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want

HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:

sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)

rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.

kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)

isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.

ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.

shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.

nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.

reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.

ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.

839 notes · View notes

renshizu · 6 months ago

Text

prologue.

—[name] transfers into class 1-a as a foreign exchange student. what a terrible decision.

—overall tws for series; cursing, extreme yandere, gore, sexual thoughts/actions, noncon/rape, horror elements, manipulative tendencies, nonconsensual recording, religious imagery, terrible actions in general, almost everyone here is a terrible person except [name] lmfao, etc.

—tw; cursing, kinda obsessive behavior, weird shit, yandere, nothing too bad yet but it will get SO much worse omg.

★・・・・・・★

“class, we have a foreign exchange student coming in today.”

the students had sat down rather quickly, eyes up and focused on their stoic teacher. at his words however, they all perked up, even the usually uncaring ones.

a pinkette’s – mina ashido’s — hand shot up immediately, bright grin simply inconsolable.

“sensei! was that another lie to get us to train harder?” it seemed she asked what they had all been wondering, aizawa’s usual strategy having lost their trust.

it almost earned a chuckle, but his dead stare remained. “sure. anyways, come on in.” he cast his gaze to the door which promptly opened, leaving the class breathless in anticipation.

“everyone,”

a girl had entered.

a girl whose eyes shone like a deer in headlights.

oblivion incarnate, in a way.

“please welcome [name] warmly.”

they awaited for her to open her mouth and speak, hoped that her voice was as cute as she looked.

“ah…” she fiddled with the ring hanging from her necklace, eyes pointedly staring at the back wall of the classroom. “i’m [name]! it’s nice to meet you all, please be kind.” her japanese was broken, not very fluent. although, that just seemed to pique their interest even more.

a small beep sounded out from somewhere, but no one paid it any mind, so she didn’t either.

applause and murmurs sounded out from the class, and she bowed respectfully before taking an empty seat in the back, mentally thanking the gods for such a convenient seat.

“[name] took the entrance exam back in her country, so she’s still admitted here. that said, please don’t get distracted — let’s just focus on some easy things for today.” aizawa stuffed his hands in his pockets, sneaking a knowing glance toward [name]. now she knew he was doing this for her sake.

as he began teaching, she kind of… zoned out. as an observer of sorts, she wanted to get a feel of her classmates. the fears of not fitting in or getting along with anyone had set deep in her bones, so she might as well try to get over it.

the boy next to her had blond hair, spiky and kind of fluffy-looking, [name] found he gave the impression of a pomeranian, especially considering the oddly angered expression he had. his eyebrows furrowed further at the feeling of eyes on him, so he turned to the girl and raised one.

snarled, bared his canines like the image she prepared prior, “what’re you lookin’ at, huh?”

she flinched out of her stupor. right, that wasn’t subtle at all. at least the teacher didn’t hear the exchange.

“sor—” she began in english, catching her mistake and starting again. “i mean, i’m very sorry. i kinda zoned out.” before turning right back to the lesson (no, she really just decided to observe someone else — what a curious little thing).

he bit back a retort about her shitty pronunciation, instead allowing a grimace to curl his lips, eyes raking down her entire figure. if she got to stare, so did he. he was just petty like that.

truth be told, he hadn’t gotten a good look at her when she was at the front of the room. it felt kind of weird to have the foreign kid next to him, but at least she wasn't an eyesore. crimson hues dragged down from her side profile, to her collarbones, to her… to— wait, n— no, he was just looking to be petty. he was just being his normal self. so why did a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck? had it always been that hot in the room?

(the ac continued to blast behind him.)

he snapped his neck back to the front, gritting his teeth angrily. he didn’t know what that was just now, and so he turned it into the emotions he knew best. frustration. aggravation.

right. he was just annoyed at her for staring so randomly.

[name] had felt his gaze the entire time, and god, if it didn’t send a chill down her spine. she wasn’t stupid. he was looking so intently — did he plan to kill her or something? just because she looked at him? fuck, it was the worst way to start at the new school.

she took a breath internally, eyes shutting for a second. it’s fine. just make it through the day, and she wouldn’t have to deal with them until tomorrow.

[name] tuned out most of what aizawa was saying unintentionally. maybe the angry boy had set her off more than she thought. she had zoned out, looking out at the clock, counting the ticks of every second.

what she was unaware of, however, was the red dot flashing in and out of existence, a device pointed directly at her from the opposite end of the room.

a golden-haired boy and earjacked-girl snickered, fist bumping eachother at the clean recording.

a bubbly brunette looked over to her friend, a boy with green curls that seemed complimentary with the blond mentioned earlier. she whispered something to him, and the blush was evident on their faces.

two-toned hair shifted slightly as the owner fidgeted with his fingers, unable to quell the uncomfortable heat rising on his face and neck. his ravenette friend bit her lip, face pink, scribbling furiously in her notebook, frantic words that didn’t look much like helpful notes.

matter of fact, most of the class wasn’t paying attention to the lesson anymore. they didn’t care about the easy ‘hero-history’ lesson. no, of course not.

their cute, foreign classmate was way more worthy of their attention.

245 notes · View notes

carooosa · 1 year ago

Text

Enchanting Distractions

Summary: Tav (reader) has ADHD/is bad at setting boundaries when it comes to their party members. Astarion comforts them.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Semi-canon compliant, takes place after the tiefling party and literally right before entering Act 2. I barely proofread it so sorry in advance. I was feeling particularly upset at myself today and so this is what I wrote up.

The days had been starting to blur together as you made your way through the mountain pass. Tomorrow your party would step into the shadow-cursed lands, so it was decided to set up camp early for the night to ensure that everyone was well-rested and prepared. Tension ran through the camp, everyone on edge with the possibility of finding the cause of the tadpoles. Whatever happens tomorrow could very well be the end of your journey.

As everyone set up their tents, you began to look through your supplies, separating potions, arrows, and scrolls into piles to give to your companions. While organizing everything, the sound of Lae’zel and Shadowheart bickering caused you to lift your head. They had never gotten along since the beginning of this tadpole mess but after the Githyanki Creche their hatred for each other seemed to amplify.

“I would say that I’m surprised that machine was unable to get rid of the tadpoles, but then again, I wouldn’t expect gith to know what they were doing,” Shadowheart had taunted Lae’zel.

“The zaith'isk was tampered with! Githyanki technology is far beyond your understanding, and if you had something other than a tadpole in your brain, you would realize the mistake in your words,” Lae’zel shot back. She turned to herself before saying, “Useless istik, mindlessly following a false god”

“What did you just say?” Shadowheart said as she readied herself to attack.

“Your ‘goddess’ ordered you to steal a precious artifact from my people, and yet knowing that does not change your unwavering belief. A goblin has more integrity than you,” Lae’zel said as she continued to walk away.

“Shar is a real goddess, unlike the githyanki’s petty attempt at a goddess, Vlaakith,” Shadowheart yells as she begins to sprint toward Lae’zel. The fighter had already pulled out her sword and the clashing of metal rang through the air. You sighed, standing up from the mess that laid out before you, and ran towards the fight. Before you could intervene, Karlach had taken her great axe and held it out in between the two aggressors before berating them.

“For fuck’s sake guys, the whole point of setting up camp early was to rest for tomorrow, not argue and waste our energy on dumb fights.” As Karlach said this, Shadowheart cast gust of wind to push her opponent back, accidentally hitting Karlach in the crossfire. She had succeeded at causing Lae’zel to lose her grip on her sword but had caused that sword to slash into Karlach’s leg. The tiefling groaned as she kneeled to the ground, clutching her thigh.

You ran back to your bag and turned it upside down, dumping all the contents onto the piles you had started to make earlier, and rummaged through your items until you found a healing potion and some fire-resistant bandages. When you ran over to Karlach to heal her, Wyll was already yelling at the two women who had caused an unnecessary injury.

“Your recklessness has caused this bloodshed!” he sounded exasperated as you handed Karlach the potion, unraveling the bandages and starting to dress her wound, careful to not burn yourself in the process. “You both are distracted by your own prejudices and disdain for each other that the thought you may be hurting others in the process never crossed your minds. So caught up in yourselves, you have yet to see the irony of the words you throw at each other.”

Wyll continued his lecture as you focus on Karlach, watching her toss aside the empty potion bottle. “Thanks, soldier,” she says with a weak smile. She pushes herself off of the ground, causing Wyll to pause his lecture and rush to her side. “I’m fine, just gonna head to bed early,” she says while sidestepping past him.

You take a breath and start to think of how to address the situation that just happened when suddenly, Gale is by your side, anxiously fumbling with his hands. Realization overcame you and you tried to recall the last time you had given the wizard an enchanted item to consume the magic from.

“I know now might not be the best time,” he starts, “but there really never is a good time nowadays, is there?” he finishes with a chuckle to himself.

“I should have an enchanted ring in my bag—“ you stop when you glance back at your backpack, contents strewn across the ground.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Gale says quickly. “Dinner isn’t going to cook itself!” He makes his way to his tent and you drag your feet back to your backpack, dreading the mess you’ll have to clean up. Sifting through the items, you create another pile of the things you already looked through. Focused on organizing, you don’t hear Astarion sneak up on you.

“My my, these are quite the… piles you have here,” he says while crouching down across from you. “What’s with all these arrows and grenades? Have you decided to try your hand in ranged combat? Because if so,” he pauses, crimson red eyes staring into your soul, “I’d be more than happy to give you some private lessons.” He bares his teeth, his fangs glistening. You’re tempted to take him up on the offer before you remember why you got those items in the first place.

“Oh, those aren’t for me. I’ve been picking up stuff here and there, and I figured before heading out tomorrow I’d give some to everyone. I was actually organizing everything,” you say, completely forgetting that you were looking for a ring, “and I was going to try and figure out what would be best for everyone to have, but since you’re here, you can pick whatever you want.”

“I can choose anything here?” Astarion asks with a smirk. You nod your head and he responds by picking up your hand and giving it a kiss on the palm, “Then I pick you, my dear.”

Your cheeks flush red as you stutter out a response. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Astarion had been teasing you a lot more lately, and while you didn’t mind, it had proven to be an extra distraction.

He chuckled at your pout, caressing your face with his other hand, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip. You both stare at each other for a moment, before he sighs and brings his hands back to his side. “Well, if I can’t have you I guess I need to figure something else out.” He scans over the pile and picks up a necklace.

“Wait, not that,” you say while snatching the jewelry away from him. “That can restore one of Shadowheart’s spells, I should go give that to her.” You stand up and run off to find the cleric, not noticing the disgruntled look Astarion has on his face. He sighs and looks down at the clutter, beginning to sift through the items.

While making your way to Shadowheart’s tent, you hear Halsin comfort a whining Scratch. “There, there, I’m sure we will retreive it soon enough,” the druid says while gently petting the dog. “Ah, Tav, could I bother you for a moment? Scratch seems to have lost his ball in a burrow and neither of us can reach it. Would mind seeing if you can grab it?”

Scratch runs up to you and paces around you in circles before you lean down to him, “Of course I’ll help you out, buddy.” Without thinking, you set the necklace on a nearby rock, crouching down to the burrow and searching for the ball. In the shadows you spot it, deep inside the tunnel, and you reach your arm in.

Your fingers are barely able to reach the toy, and you’re about to maneuver the ball out when Gale speaks. “Tav, I’m terribly sorry to ask again, but were you able to find the enchanted ring perchance?” The ball rolls out of your grasp, and you let out a long sigh before retracting your arm.

“Sorry, Gale, I got distracted. As soon as I get this ball out for Scratch I’ll go and get it for you.” Content with that answer he nods and walks off. Reaching your hand back into the hole, you push yourself against the ground, the extra leverage closing the distance between your hand and the toy. You let out a breath before throwing the ball, Scratch bounding after it.

“Thank you, Tav!” Halsin says as he runs after the dog.

Walking back to where Astarion sits rummaging through your things, Wyll interrupts you. “Tav, do you by chance have a fire resistance potion? I was wanting to give Karlach these flowers to cheer her up,” he says, holding the bouquet in front of him sheepishly. Although Wyll and Karlach had been foes in Avernus, they’re relationship was slowly blossoming into a gentle romance.

“That’s very sweet of you, Wyll. I should have one in my stuff.” You both head over to the piles of items that Astarion had started to organize. It would be nice to have someone think about me like Wyll thinks about Karlach, you ponder as you bend down next to Astarion, grabbing the fire resistance potion that sat buried within the clutter. “Here you go,” you hand Wyll the potion, “I think those will make her very happy.”

Wyll says a quick thanks as he opens the potion with his teeth, hastily pouring the contents over the bouquet and heading off to Karlach’s tent. Clearing his throat, Astarion asks “Did Shadowheart enjoy your gift?” he says with a slight frown and a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“My what?”

He stares at you for a second, before elaborating, “The necklace? The one that you oh so rudely snatched from my hands.” He watches as your face scrunches up tightly trying to remember what he’s talking about before you gasp.

“The necklace!”

“Yes, the necklace,” he sighs.

“Where did I put it?” you say as you frantically pat down your pockets.

Astarion starts to tease you again, “Really, darling, how could you misplace something like that? I thought that necklace was important after you had yanked it out of my hand and ran off to Shadowheart.” He’s chuckling to himself when he notices the genuine frustration that is starting to seep off of you.

“I just had it. I was holding it in my hand. Where could I have put it?” you mutter to yourself, your breath starting to quicken. Dread creeps through your chest as you begin to mentally retrace your steps. “Think, dammit, think!” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, a lump taking place in the back of your throat. Astarion stood up and reached his hand tentatively towards yours, squeezing it gently to try and bring you back to the present.

Gale had made his way back over to you, seeing that you were near your things. “I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but I really do need that ring if you have it,” He says while clutching his chest. Astarion glares daggers at the wizard who is either oblivious or purposely ignoring your stress, but you don’t notice as your mind has drifted off.

Right, you think to yourself, I came over here to look for the ring. Without saying a word, you push away Astarion’s hand and sink to the ground, aimlessly pushing around everything trying to find the ring. Astarion studies you, the way your hands seem to be searching for the relic while your eyes glaze over and stare at nothing, until your hand brushes over the small golden circle and you grasp it firmly. You sigh and recollect yourself before turning around and jumping up to Gale, handing him the ring with a forced smile and laugh. “Sorry for the delay! I’ve been so forgetful lately.”

He takes the ring from your hand, clutching it tightly while absorbing the magic into his chest. When he opens his hand, the ring is broken into two. “Ah, apologies. Dinner should be finished soon. Thanks again,” he says with a bow before leaving.

You sigh before returning to the pile, starting to organize it once again. From the outside, people would assume that you’re just forgetful and easily distracted, most even finding your frantic and hectic demeanor cute. You can’t help but feel like a burden, requiring constant reminders to stay on task, feeling like you need to rely on others instead of yourself. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either, but no matter how many times you repeated tasks to yourself, how many times you had written down what needs to be done, how many times you had try to will focus into your mind, nothing changed. It's always been like this, and now with the stress of the unknown ahead, you’ve been getting distracted more.

Astarion watches you, determined to organize the mess on the ground. When he first met you, you had brushed off your forgetfulness and laughed along with anyone who had made a joke at your expense. It had annoyed him to no end when you would walk into the same room, multiple times, that you had just looted. This aloofness only seemed to grow after you both had come to an agreement that Astarion could drink your blood in order to satiate his thirst, the only side affect being your increased mind-wandering.

After another 30 minutes of watching you return to the same room over and over to loot, he had decided that you both would search the rooms together, if nothing else to lessen the time it took at each town. He didn’t expect that during the extra, private time you both were now spending together he would begin to grow fond of you. While he would be working on a lock of a chest, you would grab a book and immediately become immersed in it. At first, he would use this time to pocket the most valuable items found in whatever container he had just opened, but as time went on, he had started to ask you questions about what you were reading.

It had caught him off guard when you looked up at him with excitement in your eyes as you explained the gossip in the diary you found, and he couldn’t help but become intrigued himself. Quickly, a new routine had started: while Astarion would loot and lockpick whatever he could get his hands on, you would find diaries, notes, and books to read outloud. He would respond to the especially vulgar and outlandish things you would recite with theatrical gasps and awes. One time, you had stumbled across a particularly sad letter from a person who begged their lover to wait for them, only for their lover to respond that they had never returned. A choked sob had escaped your lips when you finished the letter, and Astarion had quickly called you over to distract you.

“It’s about time that you learn how to use one of these,” he said while he pushed a lockpick into your hands. “If you’re going to stare at me while I do all the work, you may as well get something out of it.” He had been joking, but you hadn’t taken it that way. A wave a guilt and embarrassment had washed over you as you resolved to force yourself to learn what he was teaching you. It was all in vain, however, as every ten minutes when he would ask you to demonstrate, your hands would clam up and your mind would go blank.

“Darling, is it really that hard to focus? Or am I just that distracting, hm?” he had joked.

You wouldn’t look into his eyes, instead you had begun to fumble with the lockpick in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you had whispered, “I’m really trying.”

You had expected him to berate you or to even make a joke about how useless you were, but instead he had sighed and positioned himself behind you, placing his hands over yours as he talked you through the steps, yet again, of lockpicking. When you had heard the final click of the lock, you quickly turned to look at the man who had helped you. Inches away from each other’s faces, he smiled softly and brought one of his hands up to your cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“See? You can focus,” he had said while giving you a tight squeeze.

The sound of your sigh brought him back to the present, and he stared at you for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to go and look for the necklace while you do this?” You stop moving things around and just sit there, defeated. The necklace had completely slipped your mind, just like the ring. Your body begins to shake as tears run down your cheek. Astarion slowly kneels next to you, grabbing the potions and arrows from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Hey, it’s alright. Shh-shh-shh, there’s no need to ruin that beautiful face of yours.”

You start to sob quietly. Why was this so difficult for you? You were able to talk your way out of situations, fight enemies with ease, and coordinate a fighting strategy that used everyone to the best of their abilities, yet you were unable to do such simple things. You draw your hands to your eyes, pressing harshly into them to try and stop the tears that fall out. Astarion gingerly moves his arms around you in a hug, as gentle as he can muster as to not startle you. He squeezes you tightly and you stay like that for a while, before you’re able to croak out a simple question that leaves a pain in his chest.

“What’s wrong with me?” You move your hands away from your face and turn your head to look at him, expecting to see frustration in his eyes but instead finding something softer. It looks as if he’s genuinely concerned.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Tav,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Then why,” you say with trembling words, “why can’t I do such simple things? Why is it so difficult for me to remember what I’m doing, to not get distracted?”

Astarion sighs as he looks at you with his big, round eyes. “You are capable of much more than you know, my sweet. You were designated the leader for a reason. You’re brave, witty, and above all else, kind. You are so sickenly kind and patient with everyone, yet you don’t afford yourself the same grace,” he says as he rubs circles into your back. “You’ve been kind to those that don’t deserve it, but you’re never kind to yourself.”

“Thank you,” you reply meekly. You hated crying in front of your companions, but you found that you didn’t mind being comforted by Astarion.

“Besides, darling,” the vampire joked,” It’s hardly your fault that you keep getting distracted when there are six adult children who need constant supervision.”

“Don’t you mean seven?”

He pulled away from you with a gasp. “I think I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, you don’t need to see me for blood anymore then, right?” you teased.

Astarion squinted at you before his eyes softened and he pulled you into his arms again. You both sat like that for a while before he spoke, barely above a whisper, “I don’t only need you for blood.” Before you can respond, Gale’s call to dinner causes Astarion to push you up. “Go on, enjoy dinner.” You start to protest and gesture to the mess that still needs to be cleaned up before he cuts you off, “I’ll take care of it.” As he begins to sort through the items, he catches your eye before you leave.

“I hope you know that I’m still expecting to see you tonight,” he says with a sultry voice. If you hadn’t gotten closer recently, you would take what he says at face value, a meaningless flirt to rile you up. But beneath his smirk you can see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

It will need to wait for another time as your stomach grumbles, and you remember that you had forgotten to eat lunch that day. You say a quick thank-you before running off to join the rest of the party, feeling more at ease about the adventure that lay before you.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #astarion x reader

933 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 8 months ago

Note

Hi Yuri! Have you ever considered the idea of there being an alternate version of the twst boys in Yuu’s world? Since we have no clue if it’s just another planet or an entirely separate universe, it’s theoretically possible. Poor Yuu would think they are going crazy seeing a familiar face or hearing a familiar voice in another world. Perhaps it is even painful to the point Yuu tries to avoid interacting with the boy in question. - 🦐

(Also, I am well aware of how often I’ve been sharing these thoughts. If they’re annoying you or you don’t feel up to it, I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond or anything. I’m just spitballing and posting before I forget. 👉👈)

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON THIS!!!!! (first and foremost being that you are very much not annoying <3)

An alt version of a twst boy in Yuu's world is just so yummy. There's so much angst potential depending on what the relationship is/was. Did their boy die in some horrible accident? Is he waiting for them, anxious and terrified about where Yuu went? Does this imply that twst also has a version of Yuu somewhere out there in the world? Questions questions. I did sort of write about this idea in the tags of this yan version of the soulbound au, wherein a cursed Yuu driven insane by their curse kills their soulmate before being isekaid to Twisted Wonderland and finding a different version of him, horrified with the realization that they could kill him again... but I want to cook up some dynamics for what the dorm leaders/overblot boys could be up to in Yuu's world first sooo...

I had a hard time thinking about Riddle until I remembered he's a horse girl and cast Yuu in the role of bad boy ranch hand whose dad's got a job at the barn so they're forced to help take care of the horses and warn all the would be YA protags about the "special horse" who doesn't take orders from just anyone. Not that Riddle is the protagonist... he's more the well established rich petty bitch who looks down on the new girls and especially on you because you're never taking care of his horse in accordance with all his stupid rules. And in stereotypical horse movie fashion Riddle has a massive not so secret crush on bad boy ranch hand Yuu who just doesn't get why he keeps trying to talk to them.

There isn't much royalty left in the world, but imagine Leona as the son of some rich business magnate whose older brother got the company and left him with "nothing." Maybe Yuu works at a liquor store part time and Leona comes in to pick stuff up every once in a while. You wouldn't call him a friend, but you guys shoot the shit enough that you have a general feel for each other to the point he joins you on your breaks to keep up the talk and play chess.

I love the idea of student president council Azul. He's made for that trope. Born for it, he'd be such a terror with Jade as his VP and Floyd as well. Floyd. I can't see him really being a part of the student council but I had this idea the other day based off this instagram post I saw about this mom who sews right? Her daughter was running for class president and she made these bracelets with little shrimp on them and attached them to cards that said "Keep it shrimple! Vote for (kid's name)!" And I was struck with this vision of Yuu doing that so like. Yuu running against Azul with that campaign slogan and he's tearing his hair out over it being so popular because people like memes (the original idea had Floyd running as Yuu's vp but they both dropped out at the last minute because neither him or Yuu wanted to do the actual work lol.) I also like student council president Azul and delinquent Yuu... but that's because of Tsuredure Children ha

Kalim and Jamil are hard... but I think the same set up of rich businessman's kid and his bodyguard in training still fits. How Yuu meets them is beyond me, but if you were friends with either of them could you imagine how painful seeing the same tragedy play out in this new world would be? Jamil doomed to always be a servant and Kalim doomed to be betrayed by his best friend... that would be so painful for someone who cared deeply about either of them I could see it motivating Yuu to try and resolve things for twst Jamil and Kalim that much harder.

Ok so hear me out... Vil still wants to be an actor in your world but he doesn't have the connections to his dad and is working as a pharm tech with Yuu at your local drugstore while going to school and hunting for gigs. He mentions being interested in cosmetics and magical pharmacology in game... and he also mentions knowing nothing about his mom so like. Your world Vil ended up with his mom instead of his dad and you get to see him on the cusp of his big break as one of his number one supporters from the very start, only to get isekaid to a world where you get to see what things could have looked like. It's strange how similar and yet not both versions of Vil are...

Idia is the guy who comes in to buy snacks at your convenience store during the night shift who you start talking to when you notice him buying a game time card for something you also play. You're stupid awkward around each other at first, but it's nice to finally have someone to talk about your niche interest with once you've passed each other's sniff tests. You don't actually know him know him though... so getting sent to another world where there's another version of him makes you worried the more you learn about his backstory that maybe you should have been there for your Idia more. Is he doing ok back home? Did he think of you as a friend? You hope he isn't blaming himself for any of this...

Malleus is an old money trust fund baby whose family was absolutely royalty at some point and is still overly attached to it. He likes old buildings, cemeteries, long walks in the fog, you know all those good goth things. He's tall and socially awkward and so grateful for you, his first and best friend who he met one moonlight night he swore was a dream in his favorite abandoned building who spoke at length with him about all sorts of things he liked. So you know. More or less the same. Just without the world ending powers... I think this is another one that would be quite sad. Which version of Malleus needs Yuu more? Which one is the real one? I'd hate the idea of him being destined to always be lonely and lose the ones he loves.

As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all. I know that the Lovebrush Chronicles kiiiiind of deals with this??? I wish I had the patience to play through it has an appealing glasses wearing ro but it's a mobile otome :/ but still. It's a concept I promise I am totally normal about.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #<3 asks #shrimp annon #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus x reader

283 notes · View notes

deliriumsdelight7 · 2 days ago

Text

Thinking about when Belle and Rumpelstiltskin first meet in Skin Deep and he says “I’m not looking for love.”

Everything he did his whole life up to that point was for love, and it always blew up in his face. He gave the magic bean to his father so they could have a good life together, and was abandoned for it. He crippled himself to be there for his son in the way his own father never was, and his wife loathed him for it. He sold the life of his unborn, unconceived child (who he thought would never exist because of his wife’s aforementioned loathing) to save his son, and it just cemented her hatred. He took the Dark One Curse to save his son’s life again, which led to their ultimate separation.

Everything he did after that point was a game of 4-D chess to get his son back. Every deal he made, every price he demanded, every person he cheated - all of it was done for love. Even the one time he faltered - when he let himself fall for Cora - was for love. To have a wife and a daughter. And, as usual, it blew up in his face.

There was only one deal he made prior to Regina’s casting of the dark curse that wasn’t motivated by love. One deal that was made out of petty selfishness. And that was the deal that brought love back into his life.

54 notes · View notes

dearmyloveleys · 3 months ago

Text

as much as I enjoy reading discourse on why this person and that person did that in mdzs, sometimes I feel like we think too much on them and it really is just… the characters are just… human… (referencing people in the main cast) They do things whatever they think is right and wrong, because of their own histories, upbringing and personalities. It’s inevitable that they clash with others, which escalates emotions and events. Their very superficial society doesn’t help at all. With everything coming together in a shitshow, this makes all their stories so damn painful and tragic.

This doesn’t mean that I excuse characters who inflict more harm on others. I acknowledge and don't want to take away whatever any character experienced. Being human doesn't excuse shitty behaviour. But still, I feel for them that they had to resort to/end up in their respective ways to make it through their loveless world. I want to focus on the greyness of humanity behind everything that happens in the story. One of the many thematic concerns that resonate with me is how much of us as humans are black and white (as such, we debate on the characters’ place on this spectrum, because of their actions). 不说黑白, Never black or white. Even if it nears the blackened end, it still never goes pitch black.

I say 人就是人，人就是这样 — People are people, people are simply like this. We all can be kind, we all curse out. We are all insecure about something. We laugh, we cry. We write love songs as much as easily as we write hateful messages. One day our loved ones and friends are around, and the next day, they aren’t anymore. There are times in our past that we can never return to and we can do nothing but move on with our own ways of coping, for what we think will be a better life for us. For better or worse.

Amidst all the viciousness and pettiness of the jianghu, mdzs touches on our tragedies and fallacies as people just trying to make sense of an unfeeling world, with unjust consequences and impartiality. Many of the mdzs characters try, and they fail. Isn’t this how our own reality is? How many of us have the privilege of a denouement to our own stories?

We can all have our personal opinions on the characters and their actions, but do not deny them their humanity or whatever shred of it is left.

96 notes · View notes

imfoive · 3 months ago

Text

The Youngest Son - Chapter 7

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, pregnancy & abortion, power play, physical harm, somewhat proofread WC: 6.8K A/N: Would LOVE to hear everyone’s thoughts/reactions 😁 Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

CHAPTER 7 ────────────────────

Family dinners were never a good occurrence in the Lee residence, still they loved to pretend and pick at each other’s words in the pretense of a get-together.

The awkward tension in the dining room was palpable. Each member shifted uncomfortably, as if they all wanted to speak but were holding back.

The seats at the ends of the table were empty, Lee Joohyeon, still unofficially exiled, Lee Jihoon, who had likely found a place to hide for the evening, and Lee Jookshin, who had recently given birth, were all missing.

“Why does everyone look so tense? You should be happy. The Parks want L Corp. to have sole industrial contract with their Rose Garden Resort.” The grandfather observed, noting the somber atmosphere.

Lee Mooyoung cleared his throat, casting a glance to his right at his wife, then across the table to where Doyoung sat next to Minho.

“Park Hyunmin insisted on signing the contract only if Minho was on the board.” Lee Mooyoung said coldly, his irritation clear.

Minho looked up at the mention of his name, but before he could respond, Lee Doyoung’s hand slammed on the table.

“What’s wrong with my son being on the team? He’s the reason we got the deal. Besides, it was the daughter’s decision.” Doyoung argued.

Minho clenches his jaw at the words “my son”, which he had come to despise, words used only when they wanted to boast about his achievements.

“So what?! Jungshin has done a lot too!” Mooyoung retorted at his brother with the same anger.

The oldest daughter-in-law laughed scornfully and leaned toward Minho.

“Is it because you managed to rekindle something with Y/N Park that they made this proposition? Just a few days ago, you barely spoke to each other.”

Jungshin watched as Minho smiled at his mother, then glanced back at him. The older brother’s frustration grew. He had been trying to win over Y/N Park for months, only to be met with indifference. She didn’t even heed to his advances.

“I don’t mix personal and professional matters, Aunt. I’m sure they had a reason for their decision.” Minho said calmly.

The grandfather groaned, drawing the family’s attention back to him.

It wasn’t deja vu perse, this was more of a routine. They all got together, argued over petty things while the old man ate his dinner alone in their presence.

A meeting disguised as family dinner.

“I’m sure Minho will do a good job. If not, we can always have Jungshin clean up his mess.” Chairman Lee stated.

Jungshin broke his silence, glaring at the head of the table. “But why am I the second choice? I have an impeccable reputation, and I’m sure people will take me more seriously than this young kid.” He pointed

The grandfather set down his utensils, his expression stern.

“You’re lucky to even be a second choice. Y/N Park didn’t even consider you.” He admonished, signaling Secretary Cha that he was finished with his meal.

Jungshin fell silent, unable to argue back. He got up angrily, muttering an “excuse me” before storming out the room.

The older daughter-in-law watched the younger one snicker behind her wine glass. Mooyoung clenched his napkin tightly, visibly upset.

The old man finally stood up.

“Minho, I need to speak with you. Follow me.” He said, heading out of the room.

Despite the chaos, one comment lingered in the Chairman’s mind.

The twenty-seven-year-old vice-president was significantly younger than others at his level, and there was a limit to how seriously he could be taken. He needed to prove his trustworthiness and dedication. He needed to do something that made them find him more responsible.

“Minho. It’s about time you get married.” The old man said abruptly.

Minho blinked back at his words, taken aback.

The young vice president did not see that coming. He should have. But he didn’t.

He had been distracted.

─────────────────────── The Lee family was known for its business sense, though it varied among them. Each had their own responsibilities.

Every child in the Lee family had a special talent, whether it was a way with words or good luck. Though they all had potential, not everyone pursued it. Take Lee Jookshin, for example. Unlike her mother, who was a trophy wife, Jookshin was highly intelligent and excelled in school. However, in their society, her smarts were less important than finding a husband who could support her, while she provided ideas.

The saying went, “Behind every successful man is a woman.”

Then there was Lee Jihoon, the fourth grandson.

Sure, the man had a list of wild hobbies like racing cars and flying planes. He was nothing but ordinary, unremarkable in the eyes of his family.

And to complicate matters further, Jihoon was gay.

Growing up, Jihoon struggled under the weight of conservative norms that pushed him to rebel. He was always getting punished, often ran away from his parents, family, and responsibilities. From himself. He tried to fit in, dating models and elite women to please his family, as if to show he was making an effort. To prove he was contributing something to the overly expectant Lees.

The first man he kissed was the son of Sorewa Airlines’ founder. This older man left Jihoon, then twenty-three, in a whirlwind of confusion, frustration, and exhilaration.

The first man he kissed promised him the world, only to turn around and marry a woman from their circle instead.

Jihoon hated this damn circle. The world he was trapped in.

He hated the attention, the unspoken rules.

And most of all, Jihoon hated L Corp.

Everytime he returned after his spontaneous “run-away” trips, he was tied down by someone in his family, whether it was his mother, his father or even that damn Secretary Cha who was just an extension of his Grandfather’s reach. He’d be stuck in their world for a few months before another chance to escape came along.

Two years after his first male lover chose to conform to societal norms and married the daughter of a big-name entrepreneur, Jihoon saw him again at a banquet. Though Jihoon knew the man would be there, the banquet being hosted by his family, he didn’t expect to be so affected by their meeting.

Ben Choi, the son of Sorewa Airline’s head, stole fleeting glances. As Jihoon stood behind his father, who was exchanging hugs and greetings with his grandfather and the rest of the Lee family, he felt the man’s gaze on him. Ben stood with his wife, who smiled brightly at everyone she met. Jihoon tried to avoid looking at him, but with Minho being led away by Y/N and his siblings scattered around the banquet hall, he had no choice but to stay near his grandfather. The Chairman gave him a stern glance, his out-there choice of clothing, something the old man wasn’t fond of, but still he smiled at his old friend, laughing.

Jihoon thought he could enjoy the banquet without running into Ben Choi directly, but as soon as he let his guard down, there he was, alone with his ex-lover. He had slipped out to the balcony for a break from the classical music and to clear his head. The alcohol had him buzzing, and his arms were sore from playing pool.

When the balcony door creaked open, Jihoon quickly tried to hide his lit cigarette. He froze, his expression softening when he saw Ben step outside.

“I see you haven’t kicked the habit.” Ben said, his voice still deep, as he slid his hands into his pockets, approaching.

Jihoon turned back to the gardens, returning to his cigarette.

“How have you been?” Ben leaned against the railing, watching Jihoon closely.

“I’ve been well. You and—” Jihoon glanced back at the banquet hall. “Your wife?”

“Good. We’re good. As you can see from this grand celebration.”

Jihoon exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Yeah. The last time you had a big event, you announced your marriage. What’s the occasion this time? Kids?”

Ben laughed loudly, shaking his head in denial.

“Your sense of fashion is still impressive. I was surprised to see you like this.” Ben said, eyeing the blue of Jihoon’s suit.

Jihoon shrugged. “At least you can pick me out of a crowd of those boring outfits inside.” He nodded toward the balcony doors that lead back inside.

Ben’s smile faded, and his expression softened.

“I’d be able to pick you out from anywhere.” He stated quietly.

Jihoon was silent for a moment before laughing.

“Except you didn’t pick me, Ben.” He crushed his cigarette on the stone railing.

The balcony door swung open abruptly as Y/N stepped outside, looking for Lee Minho, who had ditched her earlier than usual. She had noticed a mess of spilt wine on him, but now he was nowhere in sight.

As Y/N scanned the balcony, her eyes widened in shock when she saw Ben Choi and Lee Jihoon passionately kissing a few feet away.

The two men froze, surprised at her arrival, Ben shoved Jihoon back instinctively, who stumbled back and collided against the nearby bench with a crash.

Y/N gasped, stunned by the scene. Stunned by the action.

Ben reached out to Jihoon, who was on the ground and appeared hurt, but faltered. He stepped back abruptly and quickly turned to leave. Both Jihoon and a stunned Y/N watched him pass by her figure and run away.

“Ha. ‘Pick me out’ my ass.” Jihoon muttered, wincing from the pain in his lower abdomen after the collision.

He sat up and looked at Y/N, who now stood in front of him, arms crossed and head tilted.

“What are you staring at?” He grunted, slowly standing and brushing off his clothes.

Y/N remained silent, her heels clicking on the granite floor as she approached him. Her eyes felt like they were burning him with scrutiny, judging him, squinting as if examining an exhibit in a zoo.

“Yeah, I like cock. So what?” Jihoon snapped angrily.

But instantly froze, eyes widening as he realized he had said that. Out loud.

Y/N blinked, stunned once again. Speechless at his bold confession.

Jihoon looked away in humiliation and frustration, running his hands through his hair. He then glared at Y/N, trying to maintain his composure.

“What are you going to do about it?” He demanded, clenching his jaw and trying to appear calm, though he was shaking inside from being caught.

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. “I have my own boy issues to deal with. I don’t have the time or interest to deal with your little affair.” She pointed.

For a moment he felt relieved, but he couldn’t breathe just yet. Everyone knew Y/N was closely tied to Minho, who listened to his parents and grandfather.

“I know many people in our society who are gay, but have you ever heard me spill those secrets?” Y/N said, as if reading his mind.

“I was just surprised because Ben Choi is a married man.” She added.

Her words jolted Jihoon back to reality. He had forgotten that Ben Choi had a pretty wife to get back to. And would never acknowledge Jihoon as more than a business acquaintance. His bruised ribs were a painful reminder.

“Minho was heading to the bathroom with that that Ryu whatever her name is.” Jihoon muttered, brushing past her and returning to the hall.

Lee Jihoon was good at pretending, he was also good at dropping off the map. Finding ways to escape the clutches of his grandfather who seemed to have eyes everywhere. He’d party on the beaches of Bali, sail the waters of Thailand, sleep with European men. He could be himself. Jihoon pretended he wasn’t afraid of his family, always acting out, always rebelling.

But Chairman Lee’s power was a constant source of fear. When Chairman Lee finally discovered Jihoon's secrets. Throwing the pictures of his grandson in the arms of another man at some nightclub, he covered it up, leaving Jihoon feeling cornered.

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll be working at L Corp.”

And just like that, Jihoon was trapped.

The old chairman had always been traditional, clinging to old ways. He started his business from scratch, driven by the desire to be highly sought after but lacked the funds. He seduced a wealthy investor’s daughter, using her money to grow his company and attract more investors. He had children young, raising them with a businessman’s mindset and marrying them off early.

His rich wife, once a valuable asset for him, became a show-piece in his house after her family name and money was no longer needed for her husband to get his foot into doors, slowly fading away. And suddenly one day, he was a middle-aged widower.

As he got older, he realized that the sons he had conditioned to be the best, the sons trained to take over his company, were incapable.

No, his sons were idiots, and their children were doomed the moment they were born. It was a disappointment he couldn’t bear. He could never disrespect his life’s work like that.

His eldest son spent his time drinking with frauds posing as investors, while his younger son chased after a young maid in the family home.

Both were pathetic.

But the Chairman was no better.

The first time he saw the young assistant was when Secretary Cha introduced her in his office. She stood nervously, straight-backed.

“Welcome. I hope you assist my secretary well.” He said.

She nodded, shaking his hand quickly and expressing how honored she was to work at L Corp.

The Chairman chuckled and patted her shoulder, trying to ease her nerves.

And throughout their meeting, he watched her scribble notes, tap her foot in anxiety, and fidget with the cross around her neck. When she noticed him watching and smiled, she returned the gesture.

In high society, scandals were unacceptable. One either avoided them or paid to keep them hidden. A messy private life could lead to plummeting stocks, and the Chairman was determined to do anything to maintain L Corp’s pristine image.

The young assistant was driven by greed. She wanted more than just a paycheck. She desired to be the madam of the house, to hold a significant share of the company. She aimed to seduce the Chairman, and she even succeeded.

Though he was just a man, he was also calculating, conniving. Always thinking ahead.

“Why did you have to be so greedy?”

───────────────────────

The celebration of Lee Jookshin’s firstborn was a grand affair, hosted by her delighted parents, now finally grandparents. Although the baby wasn’t a Lee, he was the first great-grandson of Chairman Lee, making him special.

The mansion bustled with guests. The young prince was showered with gifts, and his parents beamed with pride.

Jihoon scanned the grand hall, now more crowded than usual, with familiar faces moving past him to see the new nephew. The boy would soon learn that the world had a way of surprising him.

His grandfather entertained old friends, while Secretary Cha took a rare break. How he managed to stay glued to the Chairman after all these decades makes the young man ponder in bewilderment everytime he thinks of the secretary.

Everyone was there, but Minho.

That prompt man was always present for events like these, always kissing ass, always at arm’s length. But right now, he was missing.

Jihoon took a drink from a passing server’s tray and glanced around. Park Hyunmin was engaged in conversation with his uncle and father, while his wife mingled with other women. Y/N was busy entertaining Jungshin, though she appeared visibly exhausted by his incessant babbling.

Then he spots Ben Choi. His ex lover.

Ben had aged over the years Jihoon had not seen him. He was still with his pretty wife. He was a father now. Yet, Jihoon no longer felt the sharp pang of emotion for the older man. Even though Ben’s gaze lingered on him with the same intensity as it had six years ago on that balcony, Jihoon no longer cared. He decided to find some other entertainment.

Minho glanced around as he climbed the back stairs to the second floor of the family mansion. The celebration below filled the grand hall and garden with noise, but the second floor was quiet and serene in comparison.

The youngest son of the family walked cautiously, pausing outside the double wooden doors of Chairman Lee’s study. He glanced back to ensure no one had seen him. The last time he had been here, his grandfather had insisted he get married and had presented several profiles of young women from high society. Minho had promised to review the files, but his attention had been drawn to something else when Secretary Cha opened the file cabinet to retrieve them.

His mind stuck on it ever since.

It was only a brief glance from a few feet away, but Minho’s attention was immediately captured by a file at the very bottom of the cabinet. By a familiar name that rang in his mind from time to time.

The youngest son entered the dark, silent study, closing the wooden door behind him with a soft creak and a final click. He made his way to the large curtained window overlooking the back gardens, peering through a crack to scan the guests below. He spotted his grandfather next to some familiar face. Minho knew he needed to act quickly before the Chairman noticed his absence. His initial plan was to slip in and out unnoticed, but after his aunt spotted him and he had made up an excuse about forgetting a gift in his car, he was already running behind. Ten minutes had passed, he had missed a call from his father, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they became insistent.

As Minho opened the cabinet where he remembered the files had been, he held up his cellphone’s dim flashlight. His fingers froze when he noticed the lock. He hadn’t considered that the cabinet might be secured. He had assumed it was just a regular one.

He suddenly wondered why the cabinet was locked. What could possibly need to be password-protected?

He inhaled sharply with narrowed brows, frustrated before pressing generic combinations, ones an old man might remember.

Wrong.

The machine beeped, flashing red.

He had two more attempts before it would ring loudly. Something he definitely didn’t want. He tried again, thinking hard about any possible combination.

Wrong again.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

Before he could attempt and most likely fail with a final combination, his phone buzzed, startling him. It was his father, again.

Minho walked back to the curtains, peeking outside as he answered the call.

“Yes, Father.”

“Where are you? Your grandfather is looking for you. He wants to introduce you to a friend. Get here now.”

“Yes, I was entertaining some guests by the front.” Minho lied.

The call ended abruptly. He sighed in defeat, glancing one last time at the locked safe, ultimately making a shuffled exit.

Minho entered the well-lit garden, greeting everyone he passed with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Wang, great to see you.” He said, shaking hands as he made his way toward the group where his grandfather and father were gathered.

Chairman Lee’s face lit up with a grin upon seeing Minho. He spread his arms wide in welcome.

“Look who’s finally arrived, my favorite grandson!” He boomed. Mooyoung’s discomfort was palpable before he exchanged a glance with Jungshin.

“You haven’t met yet, Minho. This is my old friend Son Hyungdon. He moved to Italy about fifteen years ago.” Chairman Lee introduced.

The older, bigger man chuckled heartily and shook Minho’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve really made a name for yourself at L Corporation, haven’t you?”

“You’re giving me too much credit, sir.” Minho replied with a polite smile.

Mr. Son laughed again, glancing at the Chairman and then at the other guests.

“Humble. I like it.” He patted Minho’s arm before letting go.

As the older men engaged in small talk, their circle gradually shrank. Minho scanned the area for the face he was looking for, and his eyes brightened up spotting Y/N at one of the tables, sipping her drink and observing the scene with a detached air.

God, was she as radiating as ever. He just wished to stride over there and envelop her in his arms, inhale her sweet scent.

“And what about your granddaughter, did you manage to bring her back from Italy?” The Chairman asked, his words bringing Minho back to their boring conversation.

“She’s somewhere around here, she’s a little introverted you see. Not a big fan of big crowds.” Son Hyungdon replied.

Minho nodded, scanning the crowd for someone who might be related to Son Hyungdon.

“Is she in the kiddie section?” The grandson asked, glancing back at the older man.

There was a second of silence before both old men chuckled loudly.

“I didn’t know your grandson was a jokester too!” Hyungdon laughed while Minho stood genuinely confused.

“I don’t think he’s joking.” Chairman Lee chuckled along, patting Minho’s back.

“I’m flattered you think I’m young enough to have tiny grandchildren. But she’s actually twenty-three.”

Minho nodded slowly, letting out a soft “Ah” as he realized his mistake, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Why don’t you go find her and keep her company?” Chairman Lee suggested, nudging him.

“She goes by Sky.” Mr. Son added, both old men practically shooing him away.

The grandson blinked, puzzled by their insistence, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. Despite his curiosity, he began searching for the so-called introverted granddaughter, though he was tempted to find some lame excuse to go bicker with his secret girlfriend.

Then he spotted her and understood why the two old men were so eager for him to meet her.

Sky.

Or, Son Haneul, twenty-three.

One of his marriage candidates.

God damn it. His grandfather was truly a sneaky old man.

He bit the inside of his cheek and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets as he observed the young woman sipping champagne by a stone bench near the rose maze. It took her a few seconds to notice him observing her.

“Oh. Hi.” She blurted out, startled.

Minho thinned his lips into a smile Y/N would hate to see on his face, and walked toward this young woman

“You must be Sky.” He extended his hand.

His marriage candidate blinked a few times, either mesmerized by his beauty or surprised by his sudden approach, it was hard to tell.

“Ah! Yes. I am Sky.” She responded awkwardly, taking his hand for a gentle handshake.

Minho let out a chuckle, nodding.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Minho, Chairman Lee’s youngest grandson.”

Her mouth opened slightly in silent understanding as she nodded.

“Your grandfather sent me, asked me to keep you company.”

“You really don’t have to. I was just admiring the roses.” She glanced down shyly.

Minho chuckled again and returned his hands to his pockets.

“I can show you around the garden if you’d like. We have more than just roses here.”

She paused for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Y/N rested her chin on her palm, her elbow propped on the high table behind which she stood. She watched, irritated, as her boyfriend shamelessly flirted with another young woman.

That asshole.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jihoon’s voice, sudden and close, almost made her jump.

She turned to him in surprise. Her reaction prompted Jihoon to laugh, placing his empty glass on the table and glancing back at the duo by the flower garden.

“She seems a little young, don’t you think?”

“That’s because you’re like one hundred years old.” Y/N muttered, downing her drink.

“I spoke to her briefly earlier. She’s definitely from a foreign country, has a distinct accent... I’m thinking European.” The older man continued, more to himself than to Y/N.

Y/N sighed in frustration. “You really don’t have any friends, do you?” She remarked snarkily.

Jihoon shrugged, glancing around the garden.

“The only person here worthy of being my friend is the newborn inside.” He responded with a laugh.

“Besides, you don’t have friends either. The one you had is over there laughing up a storm with that young child.” He said, pointing with his empty glass toward Minho and Hanuel.

“Minho isn’t my friend.” She spat bitterly.

“Right, right.” He nodded slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you want to leave this lame party and do something fun with me?” He asked, leaning into the table with a grin.

Y/N squinted, trying to figure out exactly why he had approached her.

“Come on, fun with Jihoon, or party for a newborn?” The older man uses his hands as an imaginary scale, weighing the choices.

Y/N looked around, her parents, busy in their own conversation, socializing to their maximum.

Her boyfriend was clearly distracted, and the only people who had approached her, aside from those trying to curry her favor, were that weirdo Jungshin and now his chatty brother.

“Fine, let's go.”

Minho laughed with Sky, correcting her slip of the tongue due to the language barrier. But his eyes follow Y/N, trailing behind girlfriend and Jihoon, one of his eyebrows raise.

Y/N glanced back and smirked in his direction. He was definitely watching her.

You want to play games, Minho?

But the very next morning, Y/N’s eyes flew open, staring at the white ceiling brightly lit by sun rays filtering through the drawn curtains. Her body shot up, scanning the very familiar room.

She could hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom. Grabbing her head, and hissing in a sudden pain, she slowly climbed out from under the covers, still dressed in last night’s jumpsuit. Y/N looked around for her purse, grabbed it from the bedside table, and was almost out the door when the door behind opened with a click.

“Really. Are you really going to bolt on me now?”

She turned around, sheepishly grinning at her boyfriend, who stood half-naked in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“No, I was-uh, thirsty!” Y/N attempted to lie, but both their eyes trail to the glass pitcher of water on his bedside table. She groaned and rolled her eyes, sinking back onto the bed.

“How’d I even end up here?” She asked, rubbing her face and looking down at the bandages on her elbow and knuckles.

“You and Lee Jihoon got into a fist fight.” Minho said nonchalantly, striding over towards the bedside.

“Huh?!” She exclaimed, staring at him in shock.

“You headed to his favorite bar, got drunk. Argued over—I think—who was the better looking brother amongst us, then that clearly escalated.” He said, pointing at her bandages before reaching for the glass and pitcher of water.

“You’re telling me, I actually hit Jihoon over a stupid drunken argument?” Y/N was still in disbelief.

“Yeah, hair-pulling and all.” Minho shrugged with a soft chuckle, pouring the water and handing it to her.

“You called me crying, saying you’d beaten him up and were scared he might die.”

Y/N covered her face in embarrassment, starting to remember bits and pieces of her “fun night” with that stupid Jihoon.

Then she recalled why she had gone with Jihoon in the first place and glared at Minho.

“I’m sure it must’ve broken your heart to leave your new foreign friend and rush over to help stupid me right?” She jabbed.

Minho stifled another laugh, shaking his head because he knew exactly who she was referring to.

“Why would it break my heart?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m meeting Miss Son again for lunch.”

He watched her expression darken, brows narrowing as she glared at him.

“That’s fine, I have to meet and apologize to Jihoon anyways.” She downs the water.

It was obvious.

Y/N was jealous.

But she’d never admit it.

He sighed, taking the empty glass from her.

“If you keep hanging out with him, I’ll get jealous.” He said instead.

His response immediately made her grin, her usual sassy expression returning. Automatic fingers intertwined with his.

Ever so easy to please.

“I had a question—” Minho began, his words cut short by her pull.

“Am I close with Jihoon? Not really. He kept going on and on about a fun time so I just humored him—”

“No, not that.” Minho laughed, shaking his head.

He sat up, playing with her fingers, a little reluctant to ask while Y/N blinked, waiting for him to continue.

“If you were an old man, right…”

She narrowed her brows, wondering where this was going.

“Let’s say you had to come up with a four-digit password. What would you set it as?” He asked.

Y/N thought for a moment, the room fell silent with Minho waiting for her response.

“How old am I?” She countered.

“In your seventies.”

“Okay…um, probably something easy to remember, like—”

“It’s not your birthday or an important anniversary,” Minho interrupted, completing her thought.

Y/N scratched her neck, thinking again. Truly confused.

“Does this old man have a favorite person or someone important, like a wife or child? It could be their birthday.” She suggested.

Minho began to think but then cut himself off, his mind returning to last night.

“My favorite grandson.”

The woman in his grasp touched his arm, leaning in, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Who is this old man anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious.

He smiled and shook his head, brushing it off.

“It was just a question to get your brain working after all that drinking.” He said playfully, poking her temple. He stood up, and she scrunched up her face.

“I made breakfast, let’s eat before we have to part ways again.” He smiled at her, fingers gripping her wrist lightly.

Y/N knew it wasn’t just some question. Minho was clearly referring to Chairman Lee. And it had to have been weighing on his mind for him to ask her for help.

Y/N smiled back at him and followed.

It wasn’t something she would have to worry about.

She tried convincing herself.

───────────────────────

There Minho was again, a tall figure in the dark, his eyes locked on the safe’s buttons, illuminated only by the light of his cell phone.

It was much more challenging to sneak in this time. The last time, he had exploited the celebration of the newborn to slip into Chairman Lee’s study again. Finding another opportunity had taken a week and a half.

His grandfather was out with Son Hyungdon at some wineries and wouldn’t return until this evening. Minho was set to join them for dinner, so now was his only chance to access the safe.

Who knew when the old man would leave his office unattended again?

On top of that, he had to watch out for Secretary Cha. There was no time to waste.

His thoughts drifted back to Y/N’s comment about the old man’s favorite person. The possibilities of his safe combination, limited yet still a mystery.

Chairman Lee loved no one but himself. Minho found it hard to believe he had a favorite.

Yet the memory of the Chairman’s smile, the warm welcome at the party, and the words “my favorite grandson” rang in his ears.

It couldn’t be.

Still, Minho pressed the buttons

0-9-2-4

The safe beeped with an error sound.

He was disappointed, for some reason and let out a strained sighed in the dark. It would have been too easy for his birthday to be the password to such an important safe, even if he were the old man’s so-called favorite. Now he was convinced it was just sweet talk spewed in the presence of his friends.

The sound of footsteps jolted him from his thoughts. He turned his head toward the double doors, eyes darting around for a place to hide.

Shit.

The doors creaked open, and footsteps echoed across the tiles. The desk lamp was turned on.

It was Secretary Cha. The old man was always punctual, even on days he wasn’t trailing behind the Chairman.

Minho held his breath, pressing flat against the floor, peeking through a small crack between the desk and the sofa where he hid. The angle was perfect for watching the secretary’s actions.

Secretary Cha tidied the desk, sorting through some files. He picked up a few, then opened the cabinet and pressed the buttons with ease.

1-0-2-5

Minho frowned, trying to decipher the significance of these numbers to the Chairman. The secretary placed the files into the safe, pulled out a small flash drive, and tucked it into one of the corner compartments.

The safe locked with a quick click, and Secretary Cha turned off the lamp and left, closing the study doors behind him.

Minho remained hidden behind the sofa, waiting until the footsteps faded away. Slowly, he got up and approached the safe. Glancing back at the doors, he opened the cabinet door, turned on his phone’s flashlight, and aimed it at the keypad.

1-0-2-5

The light flashed green, accompanied by a different beep, and the safe opened.

Minho blinked, surprised. He knew the numbers represented days in a month, but what did they signify?

There was no time to ponder.

He pulled open the metal door of the locker, scanning the files inside. One was labeled “Lee Doyoung,” another “Lee Joohyeon.” The Chairman had a file on every family member, some thick, some thin.

Minho wasn’t surprised.

He had uncovered some dirt on his so-called family himself. There was even a file for him, but he had no interest in that. His fingers searched through the files until he found the one that had caught his attention. His hand froze as he read the name.

Yoon Sooyeon.

His birth mother.

Of course the bastard son knew who his mother was. He had been taunted throughout his childhood, his brothers teasing and bullying him, calling him names.

“Dirty Blood”

“Maid’s Son”

“That Yoon Sooyeon must have bewitched my husband.”

All directed to a ten year old.

The file was thin compared to the others. Minho opened it, and his breath hitched.

A photograph.

He picked it up slowly, an unknown emotion spreading through his body as he took in the image of the woman.

This was his mother.

“Yoon Sooyeon.” He whispered.

But the emotion vanished quickly, replaced by unease as he read the death certificate beneath the photo.

Yoon Sooyeon died on September 22nd. Two days before he was even born.

Minho’s heart raced, a tightening sensation in his chest. His mind struggled to process the information. He didn’t know whether to cry or be angry.

He was simply… confused.

How could his birth mother, the maid who had supposedly “bewitched” his father, have died before he was even born?

There had to be a mistake.

No, there must have been some error, either with the date of her death or his birth.

Then something clicked in Minho’s mind.

The passcode numbers.

Was he born a month after the date he’d celebrated his whole life?

Frustrated, he quickly rummaged through the files again, pulling out the one with his name on it, easily finding a copy of his birth certificate.

September, Twenty-Fourth

His parents were the people he’d known as his “mother” and “father” all his life.

But Minho wasn’t convinced. As he sifted through the old man’s collected information, he noticed his school certificates among the documents.

Number one in Math.

Number one in Science.

Number one in Politics.

He hadn’t realized he’d accumulated so many certificates.

His hand stopped flipping through the files as he pulled out a wrinkled, creased paper. Another birth certificate.

Lee Minho.

Born on October Twenty-Fifth.

The names of his parents, blacked out.

He wasn’t shocked. Just, more confused and lost. The deeper he dug, the more in the dark he felt. His gaze returned to the password keypad of the safe.

1-0-2-5.

His real birthday.

But that didn’t explain why Yoon Soo-Yeon’s death date was a whole month before his actual birth.

His brows relaxed, drawing a conclusion.

This woman… was not his real mother. The woman whose name had been imbedded into his head was not his birth mother.

Minho swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in his throat.

A shiver ran down his spine. His gut told him he wasn’t going to like what he was about to discover.

Did he truly wish to uncover such a truth?

───────────────────────

“What do you mean pregnant?!”

Chairman Lee’s words was strained, shock and a hint of anger in his voice, his wide eyes fixed on the young assistant.

“Yes. I’m pregnant and it’s your child.” The young assistant whispered, her voice trembling with nerves and fear.

The silence in the office was deafening, the then unretired chairman blinked, looking around as if unable to process what he was hearing. He should have known better.

What else did he expect after taking a fondness to the young assistant, who always drew his attention whenever she entered his office. It was clear now that it was all a ploy, planned to use her beauty and fragile words to catch his eye.

“Get rid of it.” He said coldly, turning towards the window and sliding his hands into his pockets.

Her head shot up, eyes wide with disbelief.

“How can you say that? It’s your child. You have to take responsibility!” She yelled, instinctively placing a hand over her stomach.

He turned swiftly at her stupid remark, his cold eyes locking onto hers.

“What kind of responsibility? We were just having some fun. What do you want me to do? Marry you and tell the world I was seduced by a young secretary assistant only months after my wife passed away?”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at him with disgust.

“You shouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t want to marry me.” She snapped, her face reflecting her anger.

The chairman strode forward and grabbed her by the neck, choking her. She clawed at his fingers desperately, gasping for air.

“That’s not how the world works. If I’d known you were just trying to trap me into marriage, I would’ve dealt with you a long time ago.” He said, tightening his grip as her face turned red. She struggled to free herself.

“Listen, like a good girl, and disappear from my sight.” He muttered as he finally released her.

She collapsed onto the floor, coughing profusely and clutching her neck, tears streaming down her face.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure you’re gone for good.” He warned, walking out of the room.

Secretary Cha hurried to his side as he exited his office.

“Get someone to keep an eye on her. I don’t want another mess.” Chairman Lee instructed as he entered the elevator.

The chairman was already dealing with a mess created by his sons, who had soured relations with one of their major clients. A client he himself had built strong ties with years prior.

Upon his arrival at the Lee mansion, he was greeted by the loud screams of a young Jungshin yelling at his caretaker.

“If you force me to eat I’ll get my father to fire you right away!” Young Joohyeon shouted, arms crossed over his chest.

The grandfather watched with a frown.

These spoiled brats.

He had thought he would be able to be at peace once his sons began slowly taking over the duties at the company. But he was hit with disappointment after disappointment, and looking at the spoiled grandchildren around the house, he couldn’t help but see a doomed future for L Corp.

A few weeks later, Secretary Cha entered his study and closed the door behind him, standing seriously in front of the chairman’s desk.

“She ran away from the city and is headed towards her hometown.”

The chairman’s expression softened, recognizing who his secretary was referring to.

“She hasn’t gotten rid of the baby.”

The room fell silent as the older man contemplated.

“What do you want to do, sir?” Secretary Cha asked.

A sharp thought flashed across the chairman’s mind, his eyes almost lighting up at how brilliant it was.

“Leave her.” Chairman Lee said.

He suddenly saw this as a chance to start over. A chance to raise another version of himself.

Chairman Lee had always been a conniving and calculating man. A businessman through and through.

“How can I just waste it all now?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

84 notes · View notes