#i get that she needs reason to do so but it just makes my skin crawl

[poetic-vulgarity]

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ II- Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word Count: ~7K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?) Part I, Part 2

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Minjeong was ignoring Y/N.

That much was clear.

It started happening after the night Y/N confessed to her.

There were texts left on read. Calls unanswered. When Y/N called for Minjeong in the school hallways, the short-haired girl just walked faster and disappeared. When Y/N tried talking to Minjeong before or after classes, the other girl put her headphones on and focused on her exercises.

Y/N thought she hadn't ruined anything with her confession.

She thought she and Minjeong could work things out with patience.

"Maybe I thought wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Aeri frowned, her arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulder as the two walked along the hallways. "From what you've told me, you've been nothing but lovely to her."

"Well, clearly, something went wrong." Y/N shook her head. "She seemed fine when we were at my house. We even went to a convenience store, and I walked her home. I-why would she just start ignoring me?"

Aeri stayed silent, not really knowing how to answer. Her best friend had been the happiest she'd seen her in a while. It didn't make sense that Minjeong would just ignore Y/N for no reason after that.

The only possibility Aeri could think of was that Minjeong had realized dating Y/N wasn't going to work and had decided to break it off.

The problem was that ignoring Y/N instead of talking about it was a pretty poor way to-

Aeri tilted her head, an idea suddenly crossing her mind. "Didn't you say she's friends with Jimin?"

"Yeah, so-" Y/N turned to Aeri, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "You think she told her about my father?"

"I mean," Aeri hesitated, "Jimin did tell Ning that she regretted breaking up with you... and she always goes after what she wants."

Y/N took her time to think her options through.

It was ridiculous.

Jimin was the one who broke up with her. She was the one who let their parents' business get in the way of their relationship. Two years down the drain because Y/N's father was elected as mayor and not Jimin's.

And now she was ruining her relationship with Minjeong?

Y/N shook her head, looking down at her hands, picking at a few loose skins. "Jimin wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't she?" Aeri suddenly halted in her tracks, and Y/N turned to her in confusion.

She followed her gaze and felt her jaw clench in anger.

Walking right towards them were Jimin and her group-Yunjin, Ning, and Minjeong. Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

The group moved to walk right past her, but Y/N reached for Minjeong, her hand suddenly trembling.

"Hey." She tried to meet Minjeong's eyes, but the other girl refused.

Minjeong could feel Y/N's grasp on her arm but refused to meet her gaze. Her heart was beating out of control in her chest, a mix of emotions washing over her.

She didn't want to see Y/N.

She didn't want to talk to Y/N or get close to Y/N or get to know Y/N.

In fact, all she wanted was to forget her.

Because if she got close to Y/N, she'd only come to care for her more.

She'd only come to care about a girl who had done nothing but lie to her. A girl whose father had completely ruined her life.

"Can we talk... alone?" Y/N's voice was as calm as ever, but one look at her face told everyone that she wasn't very happy with the situation she found herself in.

"Actually, I need to get to class, sorry," Minjeong mumbled.

Minjeong felt bad about the way Y/N's face fell at her response, but she had a hard time caring about it at the moment.

All she wanted to do was get out of the situation and clear her mind.

Y/N's hand tightened around her arm. "Minjeong, please. I just need a minute."

"Didn't you hear her?" Jimin spoke up, wrapping an arm around Minjeong's shoulder. "She doesn't wanna talk to you."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening as she turned to finally look at Jimin. "What did you tell her?"

"Only the truth," Jimin replied calmly, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

Minjeong just stood there, frozen, as the two stared at each other. She was aware of her friends worriedly glancing at her, unsure of what to do with their situation.

"You had the chance to tell her everything on your own. You didn't, so I did."

"I was going to." Y/N's eyes fell on Minjeong. "Minjeong, I swear-"

Minjeong shook her head. "You had plenty of chances to tell me. You chose not to."

She stared at Y/N for just a little while longer as hurt filled up in her chest. "It's too late now," she finally said simply.

When the bell rang later that day, she pushed the door open and walked into class, ignoring the looks Y/N was giving her.

Their teacher was always late, so students were walking around the room, chatting with each other.

Minjeong settled down in her spot and pulled out her notebook. Her eyes instinctively rolled back when she caught a familiar figure approaching her from the corner of her eye.

"Will you, please, just hear me out?"

Minjeong tensed as Y/N took the seat next to her.

"Minjeong-" Y/N began.

"Don't." Minjeong found her voice again, her eyes glued to her notebook.

The last thing she wanted was to hear Y/N making up excuses, so she steeled herself and refused to look up.

"Look, my father did build your old school, and I knew who you were from the minute you set foot inside this school." Y/N decided she'd be honest and make herself heard. "I was friendly with you because I wanted to make myself feel better for my father's actions. I'm sorry. I promise you that everything I told you when I confessed to you was true. I really do-"

The room seemed to freeze as Y/N's head snapped to the side on impact.

Minjeong's hand stung as it left Y/N's cheek, the sound of the slap resounding through the room, and everything came to a standstill.

Minjeong could feel all the eyes on them, but all she could focus on was the wide-eyed, hurt look on Y/N's face.

Minjeong forced the words out of her throat, her breaths coming up shallow against the weight of the emotions in her chest. "You need to shut up and leave me the fuck alone."

She held Y/N's eyes for a second, taking in her wide-eyed expression. There was hurt in the other girl's eyes, the look nearly making Minjeong feel bad.

The moment didn't last. Once the door opened behind them and they heard the teacher's footsteps approach, Minjeong turned to the front of the room again.

Y/N looked down in embarrassment and shame. She stood up from her seat and wiped away the stream of blood in the corner of her mouth.

The slap had made her accidentally bite herself.

She moved back to her seat, ignoring everyone's eyes on her.

Minjeong tried her best to focus on the teacher and write down as many notes as she could. She had to keep her mind on something, and if writing down notes would help, she'd do it.

At one point during the lesson, she felt a pair of eyes on the back of her head.

It was a familiar feeling, similar to the one she had felt when she walked down school hallway earlier that morning.

Minjeong grit her teeth against the memory, refusing to take another look over her shoulder.

Y/N took the clue immediately.

It took her a slap to understand, but she did. She distanced herself from Minjeong. She didn't look her in the eyes anymore; she didn't try to talk to her or reach out for her.

Their friendship/relationship came to a complete halt...

For a full two days.

"Good afternoon!"

Minjeong's breath hitched at the familiar voice. It was Saturday. Why was she hearing this voice on a Saturday?

The short-haired girl looked up from her phone, and her eyes found Y/N standing there in her family's restaurant.

Minjeong almost dropped her phone in surprise.

She could feel goosebumps trailing down her arms as she stared at Y/N. The girl stood there waiting, an expectant look on her face, as if she expected her to say something.

Minjeong opened her mouth to speak-she wasn't even sure what-but her mother's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Minjeong, you have a customer."

The girl swallowed nervously. Her phone went back into the pocket of her coat. She straightened her back and moved from her spot, making her way to where Y/N stood by the counter with her hands stuffed into her pockets.

The moment she came to a stop, a heavy silence fell over them.

Minjeong was sure she saw some bruising on Y/N's cheek and on the corner of the girl's lips.

Still, Y/N smiled gently at her and raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for her to talk.

The short-haired girl's eyes were drawn to the bruising under Y/N's eye and on her lips. Her fingers twitched before she forced them into stillness.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out harsher than she had intended.

If Y/N was taken aback by her harshness, she didn't show it. "I'm hungry."

Minjeong couldn't help but scoff. "And you decided to come here?"

Y/N stopped, looking around the place.

It was a restaurant, wasn't it?

"Is that okay?"

Minjeong's eyes narrowed, unsure whether Y/N was trying to mess with her head.

"There are other restaurants, you kn-"

A slap was delivered to the back of Minjeong's head. Her mouth fell open, and she turned to find her mother glaring at her. "Minjeong, why are you denying service to such a-"

The older woman turned to look at Y/N, and the latter put her most charming smile on display.

"-pretty customer?"

Minjeong's frown deepened as she watched her mother fall for Y/N's charm.

It was ridiculous.

Her eyes turned back to Y/N, who was looking at her with a hopeful gaze.

Minjeong clenched her jaw against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her again. "What do you want to eat?"

Another slap. "Let her sit and get accommodated first," her mother hissed, turning to Y/N with a wide smile. "Sit wherever you want, sweetie. Minjeong will be with you shortly."

Y/N bowed her head thankfully, smile still there. "Thank you, Ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet Minjeong's mom."

The woman was surprised. "Oh, you two know each other?"

Minjeong opened her mouth to disagree, but Y/N beat her to it. "I'm courting your daughter. I was actually hoping to get your blessing."

She's what-?

Minjeong's face flushed with embarrassment, and all she could do was stare, mouth half-open.

Her mother didn't notice. Her eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink as she looked at the beautiful girl in front of her.

"Oh, really?" Her mother glanced between them, her expression growing giddy. "Yes, of course, sweetie. Minjeong is a lovely girl-she can just be a little grouchy sometimes."

Minjeong's hands clenched into fists at the look on her mother's face.

Of course, she was completely smitten.

Her mother had always harbored an adoration for the wealthy and powerful, especially when it came to Minjeong's future partner. It was something Minjeong had grown used to, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her mother ushered Y/N toward a booth and then turned back to her. "I knew sending you to that school was a good idea! Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?!"

Minjeong resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her mother gripped her arms, giddy beyond reason.

"I'm not seeing anyone. Y/N is an awf-"

Her mother cut her off, nudging her toward the booth. "I like her! Don't leave her waiting, come on!"

Minjeong gritted her teeth but gave in.

Her mom beamed as she walked away, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in her daughter's chest.

Minjeong reached Y/N's table and forced herself to take a deep breath.

Y/N's eyes followed her every step, watching her closely, completely entranced. She couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

"What do you want to eat?" Minjeong asked again, gritting her teeth against the urge to throw this girl out of her family's restaurant.

Y/N snapped out of her reverie, eyes widening as she cleared her throat.

This was a restaurant of what, exactly?

"I-uhh-" She looked around, trying to see what the other customers were eating, but she couldn't make anything out. "What-what do you have?"

Minjeong's eye twitched. The menu was right in front of her. Y/N was just too busy staring to notice.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Minjeong pointed at the stupid thing, her jaw clenching as the taller girl leaned in to look.

She could see her mom eyeing them from across the room, not being discreet in the slightest.

Minjeong wanted to be six feet under.

Y/N skimmed through the menu, eyes moving quickly over the selection.

"I think I'll have the dwaeji gukbap."

Minjeong nodded, ready to grab the menu and leave, but Y/N wasn't done.

"Also, the milmyeon, godeungeo-gui, agujjim, and eomuk, please. Oh! And can I get the dongnae pajeon and the guljeon?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes and yanked the menu away before Y/N could order anything else.

"What are you doing?"

Y/N looked confused. "I was... ordering."

Minjeong wanted to slap her. Again.

"What, you couldn't personally shower me in your money anymore, so you came to do that at my family's restaurant? Can't you be a decent person for once in your life and just leave me the fuck alone?"

Y/N just smiled. "Dinner's on me tonight. My parents are in town, and they brought a few friends over."

Minjeong clenched her jaw.

She hated how unbothered Y/N looked, how effortlessly she wormed her way into her life again.

If she had any shame, she'd just go home.

But no. She was there, flashing her money and privilege like always, getting exactly what she wanted.

Minjeong wanted to deny her service-kick her out, ban her from ever stepping foot inside again.

But the amount of food Y/N had just ordered... meant rent was covered for the month.

Minjeong hated her. More and more.

She was about to make that very clear when Y/N suddenly stood up and bowed, looking past her shoulder.

Minjeong turned to see her father approaching with a warm smile.

"Oh, fuck me."

Her father wiped his hands on the black apron tied around his waist as he reached their table. Slowly, almost carefully, he extended his hand for Y/N to shake.

"My wife told me to come meet my daughter's girlfriend."

Minjeong wanted to die.

"Hopefully in the future, sir." Y/N chuckled softly-a sound that tickled Minjeong's brain just right. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She reached out, clasping his hand with practiced ease, bowing just enough to be respectful.

She just had to be perfect at everything, didn't she?

Minjeong's father was immediately taken in by her manners, her gentle touch.

Minjeong wanted to scream.

She wanted to tell him about the lies.

She wanted to tell him about the secrets hiding behind that polite, practiced smile.

But she couldn't.

The amount of money Y/N was about to spend-the dinner her parents and their friends were about to have-would keep her family afloat for another month.

And Minjeong couldn't take that away from her parents.

It all felt like a cruel game.

Her chest tightened as she watched her father and Y/N exchange a few words. His eyes gleamed with admiration as he looked at Y/N, and Minjeong felt the sudden urge to throw up.

She kept her gaze fixed on the table, doing her best to block out the conversation.

Once her father left-after shooting her an approving nod-Y/N sat back down, looking entirely too satisfied with herself.

"You're a manipulative liar," Minjeong tried again, her voice firmer this time.

Y/N didn't budge. "A manipulative liar who's in love."

Minjeong's jaw clenched at the words.

In love?

The audacity of this girl to even say that.

Her fingers curled into fists.

How could one person be so infuriating?

She turned sharply, stalking back to the counter to put the order into the register-only to catch her mother watching their every move, a pleased smile on her face.

That was it.

As soon as her shift was over, Minjeong was going to off herself.

Meanwhile, Y/N simply watched her go, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Why was it so easy to get under Minjeong's skin?

She dragged out her time at the restaurant as much as she could.

As long as she was there, she was fine.

She got to see Minjeong. She got to talk to Minjeong's lovely parents. She got to not be at home with her parents.

It was perfect.

Unfortunately, Mr. Kim had other plans. He worked as quickly as possible, insisting that Y/N and her parents shouldn't have to wait long for their food.

So, far too soon, Y/N found herself stepping back inside her house, dinner in hand.

"What took you so long?" her father asked from the living room, seated among his colleagues.

"I was quick." She replied shortly, carrying the bags into the kitchen.

Grabbing a plate for herself, she made her way upstairs, wanting nothing to do with the circus unfolding downstairs.

The following days were the same.

Y/N would come, order a ridiculous amount of food, and leave-only to come back again the next day.

Minjeong's parents were absolutely thrilled by her presence.

And Minjeong?

Minjeong hated it.

The anger, the frustration, the sheer distaste burned through her chest every time Y/N walked through that door.

But after two weeks of the same thing, the fight had drained out of her.

She didn't yell. She didn't snap. She didn't even glare anymore.

She merely stood behind the counter, arms crossed, waiting while Y/N placed her order.

"Food will take around thirty minutes to prepare. You can sit while you wait." Minjeong's voice came out flat, her expression unreadable as she turned away.

She walked to the kitchen, relaying the order to her father.

"She here yet?" he asked with a grin.

Minjeong let out a slow, controlled breath, doing everything she could to hold onto what little patience she had left.

"She's here," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Her father's smile widened. "Good! Take care of her for me."

Minjeong's mother perked up from where she was wiping down the counter, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Let me go say hi to her."

Ten minutes later, when Minjeong stepped out of the kitchen, she nearly dropped the tray she was holding.

There, sitting comfortably at one of the booths, was her mother. And across from her, whipping the tables, was Y/N.

Minjeong froze.

Y/N-cleaning?

Her mother sat there like she hadn't just handed off one of her responsibilities to a paying customer, chatting away with a warm smile on her face.

Minjeong's fingers twitched against the tray.

What the hell was going on?

She stormed over, trying not to trip over her own frustration. "What are you doing?"

Y/N looked up, unbothered, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. "Helping."

Minjeong turned to her mother, expecting an explanation, but the older woman only beamed. "Such a sweet girl," her mom sighed dreamily. "She insisted, Minjeong! Said she wanted to help out since she's always here."

Minjeong clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

This was ridiculous.

She hated it.

She hated how easily Y/N charmed her parents.

She hated that Y/N was still here-in her space, in her life.

She hated that a small, stupid, buried part of her chest felt warm at the sight of Y/N helping out.

She exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away.

"Go sit down," she snapped, yanking the spray bottle from Y/N's hand.

Y/N grinned. "You're worried about me?"

"I'm worried about my restaurant looking like a joke," Minjeong shot back.

Her mother gasped. "Minjeong! Don't be rude!"

But Y/N just laughed, wiping her hands on her pants. "I'm just waiting for my food," she said casually. "Might as well make myself useful."

Minjeong turned away before her mother could see the glare she was sending Y/N's way.

She had to endure this.

At least until Y/N got bored and finally, finally left her alone.

Easier said than done.

Y/N was persistent.

At school, it had been fine. They didn't have every class together, and Minjeong could simply ignore her when she approached. But now Y/N was at her restaurant, invading her space, and it was getting to be too much.

The frustration built and built, day after day, until it finally snapped. It happened in gym class.

The basketball ball hit Y/N's cheek with a loud smack, and she went down.

Hard.

The gym fell silent.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, regret washing over her.

It wasn't a light hit. It was a ball thrown with strength, purpose, and precision.

Y/N didn't even remember hitting the ground-just opening her eyes to see the teacher and several classmates hovering over her.

Fuck.

Minjeong looked around as the commotion grew. The coach knelt beside Y/N, checking on her, while the rest of the class murmured among themselves.

Her gaze met Aeri's and Chaewon's, who just so happened to be in that class as well. Their jaws were slack as they looked between her and their best friend.

Chaewon was never known for having the best temper. So it wasn't a surprise when she stormed over, shoving Minjeong back with enough force to make her stumble.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Chaewon's voice echoed through the gym, filled with unrestrained fury.

"Stop it, Chae." Aeri tried to intervene, wrapping an arm around Chaewon's waist to keep her from doing something she'd regret. She was angry too-they both were-but getting Chaewon expelled wouldn't help anyone.

Minjeong's head snapped toward them, her mouth opening to respond, but no sound came out.

Her eyes darted back to the group surrounding Y/N. Her stomach churned at the way everyone was looking at her-at the frowns on familiar faces, at the unspoken accusations in their stares.

"Girls, that's enough."

The teacher's voice cut through the tension as he knelt beside Y/N, helping her sit up.

"Chaewon, Aeri, take Y/N to the infirmary. Minjeong, stay behind after class. Everyone else, disperse! Class isn't over for another fifteen minutes!"

Minjeong's heart sank.

She had never gotten detention before.

And now, because she let her emotions take control, she had made a fool of herself in front of everyone.

She stood frozen, watching as Chaewon and Aeri carefully helped Y/N off the ground. Even from a distance, she swore she could see the glares they both sent her.

Detention it was.

Minjeong tried to see the bright side of things.

At least now, Y/N hated her. She would finally leave her alone. She would stop showing up at the resta-

Minjeong blinked.

There she stood, in front of the counter, completely soaked.

There was a storm outside. The restaurant was practically empty.

What the hell was Y/N doing there?

"Hi." The taller girl let out, the corner of her bruised lips tilting into a soft smile.

A loud crash of thunder boomed in the background, and heavy rain pelted against the windows.

But Minjeong wasn't paying attention to the storm. Her focus was solely on Y/N. On the dark purple bruise marring her left cheek-a clear, undeniable reminder of what had happened just a day ago.

And yet, she had the audacity to smile at her.

Minjeong didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she didn't have to. A loud gasp surged from behind her, and she stiffened as her mother rushed forward.

"What happened to you?" Minjeong tensed as her mother gently cupped Y/N's face in her hands, tilting it up to assess the damage. She expected Y/N to back away, to flinch under her mother's touch. But she didn't. She just stood there, smiling, like a complete fool.

"It's been raining so much these days," Y/N said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I slipped and fell."

Minjeong's breath caught in her throat.

Did she just lie?

Y/N could have easily exposed her.

She could have ruined her right then and there, could have held it over her head like a trophy.

Minjeong had expected her to lash out, to finally snap and make her life miserable.

But she didn't.

She just stood there, soaking wet, a bruise on her face, and a stupid smile lingering on her lips.

Why?

Minjeong already knew her secret. She knew who Y/N really was and why she had approached her on that first day. She knew how rotten Y/N and her intentions were.

So why?

"You're completely soaked too."

Minjeong's mother turned toward her. "Minjeong, get her a towel and an ice pack, please."

Minjeong froze.

Her mother turned back to Y/N and ushered her toward a table. "You need to take care of yourself! Look at that pretty face of yours! And what if you get sick?"

Y/N chuckled lightly. "I'll be fine, Miss Kim. I was more worried about you, though. How's your leg?"

Minjeong stiffened.

Her mother had injured herself years ago-she had slipped during a storm, just like this one, and broken her leg. Even now, on cold nights, the pain lingered.

But how the hell did Y/N know about that?

Why did she care?

Minjeong's heart fluttered, just for a second. She gulped, pushing away the feeling, and stepped away to grab the towel and ice pack.

Her fingers gripped the fabric tightly as she glanced back at Y/N, who was still sitting, listening intently to her mother.

A nagging thought scratched at the back of Minjeong's mind, urging her to give in to this strange, persistent kindness.

She shoved it away.

"Here," Minjeong muttered, placing the towel beside Y/N and setting the ice pack down on the table.

She turned to leave- a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Minjeong's breath hitched. She looked down, expecting Y/N, but it was her mother.

"Hold the ice up for her, will you? I'm going to get her some soup to warm up."

Minjeong's jaw nearly dropped.

She could not believe what she was hearing.

It was pure karma.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother was already walking off toward the kitchen, leaving her alone.

With her.

Minjeong turned back to Y/N, who was still sitting, head tilted slightly, studying her with that same infuriating curiosity.

She sighed and reached for the ice pack.

A soft chuckle stopped her.

Minjeong's gaze flickered up.

Y/N was smiling-lips curled just slightly, dimples barely visible. She pulled the towel from her shoulders, setting it aside.

The sound of rain against the windows filled the silence between them.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N said, voice softer than usual.

Minjeong frowned.

"Just keep me company for a little while, please. I miss talking to you."

Minjeong felt it again. That stupid flutter in her chest.

Y/N had to be faking it. She had to. But the look in her eyes-

It wasn't the same glimmer she gave her friends, the playful twinkle that Minjeong had grown used to seeing.

This was different. It was softer. Gentler.

Minjeong swallowed, pressing the ice pack against Y/N's bruised cheek.

Y/N winced slightly at the cold but didn't move away. Instead, she smiled, shifting slightly to make space beside her in the booth.

Minjeong hesitated. Then, slowly, she sat down. Silence settled between them, but Y/N didn't let it linger."I'm sorry about Chaewon," she said, voice quiet. "She's... protective."

Minjeong tensed. It wasn't like she could disagree.

Chaewon was protective. But she was also right.

Minjeong had hurt her friend.

Her grip tightened slightly on the ice pack as she kept it in place.

"She had every right to be," Minjeong said, her tone cold. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Y/N only smiled, leaning into the touch.

Minjeong's breath caught, her jaw clenched at the closeness.

How could someone she hated be so damn comfortable around her?

Minjeong wanted Y/N to get angry-to yell, to scream.

Not sit there and be friendly.

She clenched her jaw as Y/N smiled, "So you did mean to hit me."

Minjeong couldn't deny it. She stayed silent.

The rain outside filled the quiet that settled between them.

She could hear her mother moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pots and soft humming mixing with the sound of thunder in the distance.

Minjeong wanted to say something-anything. Even an insult would do. But her mind was blank.

The ice pack had started to warm against her fingers. She adjusted it against Y/N's cheek, pressing it gently into place.

"I still don't like you," she huffed, more to fill the silence than anything. "I'm not falling for your lies again."

Y/N exhaled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"I didn't lie about wanting to be your friend. Or liking you," she said softly. "I just... didn't approach you with the right intentions. I'm sorry. My dad-he's not the best person. I barely know him. But I knew that he hurt you. And I wanted to make it better somehow."

Minjeong's throat tightened.

She didn't want to hear that.

She nudged Y/N's shoulder instead, scowling. "Just shut up and keep drying yourself. You're soaking the sofa."

Y/N smiled.

It wasn't much but it was a start and she was patient.

So she kept showing up at the restaurant.

She kept talking to Minjeong at school.

Interaction by interaction.

Brick by brick.

Until, somehow, impossibly-Minjeong let her back in.

Things got better.

So much better, in fact, that on Christmas Eve, Y/N found herself standing in front of Minjeong's house, clutching bags of gifts and food in her hands.

When the door opened, Minjeong just stared.

Her voice caught in her throat, countless thoughts racing through her mind.

"Y/N-what are you doing here?"

Y/N hesitated for only a second before raising the bags slightly, a small, lopsided smile on her face.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Minjeong blinked.

If anyone had told her that Y/N would actually show up, she would've laughed and told them to get their head checked.

She hadn't even expected Y/N to remember. The words had been brushed off as a joke, an empty promise at best.

But she was there.

With food. With gifts.

Minjeong's chest fluttered painfully as she took in the sight of her.

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in Y/N's eyes, and the crinkle at the corners of her smile made her stomach twist.

"You're crazy," Minjeong mumbled, before sighing and stepping forward, pulling Y/N into a small hug. "Y/N, you didn't have to."

"It's nothing." Y/N shrugged, stepping inside when Minjeong opened the door wider for her.

And if Minjeong had thought her parents were easily charmed by Y/N, her siblings proved her wrong.

Y/N didn't even have to say anything to win them over.

The moment they saw her step inside, looking like Santa Claus himself with all those gifts, their eyes lit up.

Minjeong watched from the side as her siblings swarmed Y/N with excitement, admiring the gifts all for themselves.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a chuckle, but still startled slightly when her mother suddenly gasped.

"YOU CAME!"

Before Y/N could even react, Minjeong's mother had grabbed her arm and dragged her straight to the kitchen. "Come try my kimchi! You like spice, right? I made it extra spicy this year!"

Minjeong couldn't help but soften as she watched her mother pull Y/N into the bustling house, filled with the laughter and chatter of her family.

The sight of her siblings holding their new toys, excitedly showing Y/N their favorite things about the gifts, made her heart swell.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she slowly made her way into the living room.

But even as she sat down, her eyes never left Y/N.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she fit so effortlessly into her world.

It took a while, but eventually, Y/N stepped back into the living room, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Y/N gave her a small smile. "Your family is lovely."

Minjeong stood from the couch, reaching for her hand without thinking. "They keep hogging you," she muttered, tugging her gently" "Let's run away."

Y/N laughed but didn't hesitate to hold Minjeong's hand. She smiled, glancing around as the other girl led her to her bedroom. The house was small, but filled with warmth and comfort. Y/N couldn't help but envy it a little.

"Thank you for all the gifts," Minjeong murmured, closing the door behind them. "You really didn't have to."

The silence was a welcome change, but it didn't last long.

Somehow, they ended up lying on Minjeong's small bed, facing each other, when Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"I didn't know what to get you," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

Minjeong let out a soft laugh, her fingers moving to gently take the box from Y/N's hands.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Y/N. But whatever this is-it's perfect."

The gift was small, wrapped a little messily, but Minjeong didn't care.

She was too focused on the way Y/N was watching her.

Nervously, yet eagerly.

She unwrapped the box, tilting her head when she found a guitar pick inside. It was gorgeous-an ivory color with the initials K.M. engraved on each side.

Minjeong ran her thumb across the engraving, feeling the smoothness of it.

She couldn't believe what she was holding.

"The guitar should be arriving tomorrow."

Minjeong's eyes snapped up at Y/N's words, her grip on the pick tightening.

Her brain barely registered what she just heard.

'The guitar should be arriving tomorrow.'

The words repeated in her head, over and over, as she just stared at Y/N, her mouth slightly open.

A million thoughts, emotions, words-nothing could properly form.

Y/N was crazy.

No-this was insane.

There was no way Y/N actually bought her a guitar.

Just the thought of it made her feel lightheaded.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Minjeong was still staring at the guitar pick in her hands, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"I heard you tell a client you were saving up to buy one," Y/N continued, pulling out her phone and sitting up to show Minjeong a few pictures. "It's this one. I talked to a guy, and he said this one is good for beginners."

Minjeong's breath hitched as she looked at the screen.

The guitar was beautiful.

Glossy black, brand new strings, shining under the store lights.

She swallowed thickly, looking up at Y/N again-who was just watching her, waiting.

Patient.

The gift was expensive and gorgeous and thoughtful.

Minjeong's heart swelled, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't name.

So she did the only thing she could.

She threw her arms around Y/N's neck, hugging her tightly.

Y/N froze for a moment at the sudden warmth engulfing her-but then she melted. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Minjeong's waist, pulling her close.

Her heart skipped at the unexpected affection, her cheeks burning.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking in Minjeong's warmth, the way she felt against her-her scent, her presence.

"I'm glad you like it."

Minjeong couldn't stop herself.

Her grip on Y/N tightened as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

It was warm.

Comforting.

She sighed, her heart pounding as she closed her eyes.

"I love it."

Her voice was soft, muffled against Y/N's embrace.

She slowly pulled away, her face burning as she looked down at her hands.

"I also got you something," she mumbled, "but it feels useless compared to your gift."

Y/N frowned slightly at that.

Minjeong shouldn't compare gifts. That wasn't what this was about.

Before she could say anything, Minjeong stood up and walked toward her closet, pulling out a small box covered in reindeer-patterned wrapping paper.

Y/N's heart quickened at the sight.

She could see the effort Minjeong had put into wrapping it-the way the corners were neatly tucked, the way a tiny ribbon sat perfectly tied on top.

Her eyes flickered up to Minjeong, who was now holding the gift out for her. She reached over and took it carefully, her fingers running across the smooth wrapping.

The box was light and small in her hands. "Can I open it?"

Minjeong nodded.

Y/N smiled softly, taking her time untying the ribbon, making sure not to tear the paper as she lifted the lid off the box.

Inside, there was a layer of tissue paper.

She gently pulled it back and her breath hitched.

A blue jewelry box sat inside.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted it, flipping the lid open.

Inside, nestled against the soft velvet lining, was a golden necklace.

Y/N carefully picked it up, turning it over in her hands-

-and a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Dangling from the chain was a tiny, detailed basketball ball charm.

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. It was so simple, yet it meant everything.

"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Minjeong smiled as she watched Y/N admiring the present.

Her heart squeezed gently as Y/N laughed and carefully lifted the necklace from the jewelry box.

Minjeong knew her gift was nothing compared to what Y/N had gotten for her. But seeing her like this-her face so soft, eyes full of warmth-made her more than happy.

The two stayed in Minjeong's room for as long as they could.

Which wasn't very long-because soon enough, her siblings and parents were calling them downstairs.

Y/N didn't linger much after that.

Christmas was about family, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was overstep.

So, despite Minjeong's mother asking her to stay for the twentieth time, she gently refused, saying she needed to get home before the snow started falling.

Minjeong walked her to the door, feeling a little sad to see her leave but too too shy to ask her to stay.

"Thanks for coming."

Y/N nodded, her chest feeling impossibly full. Minjeong had no idea how much tonight had meant to her.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong's cheek. "Thanks for having me."

Minjeong felt her breath catch in her lungs.

The touch was gentle. Warm.

The spot where Y/N's lips had been tingled, heat rushing to her face.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling-burn it into her mind.

But before she could process it, Y/N was already pulling away.

"Drive safely," Minjeong managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the cold, pulling on her jacket.

Minjeong stayed by the doorway, watching as she got into her car.

And only when the car finally disappeared down the street did she allow herself to breathe again.

Time went on and Christmas break soon ended. Y/N was ecstatic to return to school after the break.

She couldn't wait to see Minjeong again.

As she walked through the hallways with her friends, there was an extra bounce in her step, a lightness in her chest.

They made their way outside for lunch, hoping the sun would warm them up.

"I don't know, I still don't like her."

Y/N paused mid-step at Chaewon's grumble.

She quickly exchanged an exasperated glance with Niki and Aeri before sighing. "Give it a rest, Chaewon."

"Give it a rest?" Chaewon scoffed. "Did you see the way she threw that ball at you, Y/N? That girl is dangerous, I'm telling you! What if she gets angry and throws another ball at you? It's psychotic. You were knocked out!"

Y/N shrugged, thanking Niki as he held the door open for her.

They stepped out into the school's wide garden, where the winter sun was shining brightly.

"She's got a strong personality, so what?" Y/N said easily. "Plus, she didn't mean to hit me that hard. And-" she grinned, holding up the charm hanging from her neck, "-she got me a necklace for Christmas!"

Chaewon snorted at that.

"A strong personality? She sounds like a psycho to me."

They reached an empty bench, settling into the sunlight.

Aeri gently nudged Y/N. "Just ignore her. She's just petty she's single."

Chaewon went on to argue that, but Y/N didn't mind them.

She knew her friend was just being protective-and she was thankful for that.

But at the same time, she was sure of one thing.

"Chae, Minjeong would never do anything to hurt me again. Trust me, she's-"

The words died in Y/N's throat.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as her gaze landed on a new sight.

It felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs.

Minjeong was leaning against a tree-not too far away.

And standing in front of her, with one hand gently placed on her waist and the other tangled in her hair, was Jimin.

Y/N watched, frozen in place, as Jimin tilted her head down and kissed Minjeong.

Minjeong tilted her head up to meet her, their lips pressing softly together.

Y/N could see everything, the way Jimin pulled away gently, the way Minjeong's lips curved slightly in response.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

The world around her blurred, sounds faded into nothing-her ears were ringing, her pulse pounding in her head.

She hadn't even realized that she'd stopped breathing.

Her lungs screamed for air but she couldn't breathe in.

For a split second, the urge to step forward burned inside her. To pull them apart. To rip Jimin's hand away from Minjeong.

But time had frozen around her.

And in that moment, Y/N was done.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Trying

steddie, omegaverse, mpreg, cw: vomit, cw: miscarriage, angst with a happy ending

Steve knows better than to get his hopes up when he and Eddie start trying for a baby. He knows it can take time. That it isn’t just about throwing out his birth control and getting dicked down three times a week—anything more than that leads to diminishing returns: lower sperm count, less ejaculate. He’s already on prenatal vitamins and he’s eating better; he’s cut alcohol and coffee from his diet.

But it’s not like he expects it to happen right away.

Then he starts puking.

At anything. Weird smells, weird tastes, eating too late in the morning or too early, drinking water too fast. So, he pulls a test out of the bathroom cupboard, pees, waits the five minutes.

Eddie finds him crying in the bathroom twenty minutes later. Steve cried so hard he threw up. But the test has two blue lines, confirmation of the life growing inside him.

Sinking to the floor, Eddie gets his arms around his omega, kisses his temple and pets his hair, and whispers his love and excitement into the skin of Steve’s neck.

They can’t believe it’s happened so fast.

They don’t tell anyone, not even Robin—not even Wayne—because Steve is too nervous, too superstitious.

It doesn’t stop the blood from coming three days before his first prenatal appointment. He calls the office in a panic, and when the nurse says, “Some spotting is normal, even enough to look like a light period, how much blood have you-”

“A lot. I’m already on my third overnight pad today.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, honey.” After that, she tells him to call again if the bleeding gets worse, or if he faints. That it’s early enough he should be fine managing it at home.

She keeps his appointment slot, so his doctor can do blood work, give him a full physical.

Eddie offers to go with him, but Steve needs a little time alone. Needs a little privacy.

He’s sitting on the exam table, paper under his bare ass, wearing a soft pink hospital gown. “Was it my fault?” He can’t help crying as he asks, explaining about the morning sickness, how he was afraid to eat half the time for fear it would come right back up.

Dr. Greene holds his hand, in both of hers. “No, Steve. This early it usually means something’s wrong with the embryo. Genetic non-viability.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think the morning sickness helped, but it didn’t cause this. It’s just what happened. And it’s quite common. There’s a reason we say not to announce a pregnancy until the second trimester.”

Steve nods, grateful even if he can’t stop his tears. “Thank you,” he whispers, relieved.

Dr. Greene just squeezes his hand, and walks him through all the tests and checks she wants to do. Steve leaves his appointment with a half-dozen pamphlets, including one with tips for fighting morning sickness.

He spends the afternoon reading, and stocks up on ginger candy in preparation.

Eddie is cautious for the next week, always offering Steve comfort, holding him close and kissing him sweetly. Steve is the one to get back to business, jumping Eddies bones as soon as he has the go-ahead.

It takes two months for them to get pregnant again, and Steve’s morning sickness comes back.

The ginger candy helps, and the ginger ale. Sometimes he does a cold compress on his chest, and it’s enough to stop the urge to vomit. He’ll pinch the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and that helps most of the time.

But not always. Usually, when he first wakes up, or when he gets out of the shower it will hit him hard and fast.

He makes it to ten weeks this time, before the spotting and the cramping. Steve’s at work when it starts and he tells his boss he’s sick, drives straight to the OBGYN office, hoping they can do something.

But he’s already passed a clot, the bleeding worse.

A nurse finds him an empty exam room so he can clean up. Compose himself a little. He calls Eddie at work and tells him the bad news.

“I’m coming, baby, just give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there,” Eddie promises, ready to care for his mate.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you at home.”

“Steve!”

“You shouldn’t leave work for this. I’m just gonna go home and lie down.”

Steve hangs up. He feels like a failure.

When Eddie gets home that night, he finds Steve on the couch eating butterscotch ice cream. He plops down next to him, gets an arm around his shoulder, and just lets Steve melt against him. “It’ll be okay, baby. These things take time.”

“I know,” Steve whispers. “I was just really excited this time…”

“As soon as you’re ready, we’ll start trying again.” He pulls Steve into his lap, not even caring that the mostly empty ice cream carton is being squished to his chest. “And no matter what, I will always love you.”

“I love you so much,” Steve murmurs back, pressing his tears to Eddie’s neck.

💔💔💔

Over the next year and a half, Steve loses three more pregnancies before the end if the first trimester. His morning sickness is better by the last one, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

They have another appointment with Dr. Greene, this time to go over their options, and do a bit more testing, but the night before, Steve is distraught. “I can’t do it again,” he whimpers. “I can’t fall in love with another baby that I don’t get to meet. Eddie, I can’t!”

Eddie can’t either. But it’s not his body. He doesn’t feel that same connection Steve does, doesn’t bear the same burden. But he still loved each and every one.

He also can’t stand the thought of Steve suffering again. His mate has been through more than enough.

Then the tests come back, and Dr. Greene smiles kindly. “Steve, there’s nothing in your blood work or health history that should be contributing to this. But the ovum is a robust little cell. In fact, research indicates that problems frequently boil down to sperm count… And quality.”

Eddie freezes. He knows he eats better than he did when he met Steve—Steve feeds him after all—but he has… Bad habits. “How bad is it?” he asks, cringing internally as he thinks about how proud he was to fill his sample cup past the halfway point that afternoon. Pointless alpha preening.

“Your sperm count is actually in the normal range for an alpha your age, which is a good sign, especially knowing you’re a smoker, Eddie. But your motility is low, which means even fewer sperm make it far enough to reach the egg. It means odds of a healthy sperm fertilizing the egg are lowered.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand in apology. “So, it’s my fault,” he says, keeping his voice even.

“This isn’t about placing blame,” Dr. Greene starts.

At the same time, Steve murmurs, “Eddie, no…”

“No,” Eddie says clearly, forcing a smile. “If there’s something I can do, I will.”

He quits smoking cold-turkey, needing the nicotine out of his system. Eddie knows too many guys who traded their pack a day smoking habit for a pack a day of nicotine gum. Every time he even thinks about smoking he snaps a rubber band on his wrist, and remembers how many times he’s found Steve crying over the past two years.

He gets more vegetables in his diet, leafy greens that taste bitter as hell, but he still eats every salad Steve packs fir his lunch.

In the end, the hardest part is exercising. Eddie hates running. He hates it. Even going for a morning run with Steve doesn’t help because Steve does 5K no problem, and Eddie feels like he’s dying after six blocks.

They stop running together, but Eddie keeps running. He goes to a weekly yoga class and starts swimming laps at the Y.

He and Steve take a break from sex. Then, when they do have sex, they use protection. Steve won’t risk it. Not yet.

They wait neatly a year, Eddie asking to have his sperm checked at his annual physical. There’s no pride this time in how much he managed to jizz in the sample cup, only the relief at being told, “Your sperm count is on the high end of average, with good motility. Overall, everything looks healthy, but if you’d like a referral to a specialist, I can give you one.”

Eddie calls Steve with the good news, promising that they can wait as long as Steve wants before they start trying again, that the lifestyle changes are sticking around.

Steve tells Eddie to get his ass home. Right away.

Eddie finds Steve in the bedroom, wearing lingerie for the first time in a couple years. He’s seated on their bed in the prettiest lilac silk, and he stands as soon as Eddie’s through the door, pouncing on him. “I love you, Eddie,” he mumbles between kisses.

“Love you so much, baby,” Eddie murmurs back, ready to celebrate their small victory. He guides Steve back to the bed, ready to worship his beautiful tits as soon as he’s unwrapped them.

He touches Steve everywhere. Kisses him everywhere. Holds him close once they are both naked and sweaty. He reaches for the bedside table, but Steve stops him. “No condom,” he whines. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Eddie, you’ve spent the past year getting healthy for this, for us. It sounds like it worked.” Steve reaches down, takes Eddie’s hard cock in hand, stroking him roughly, the way he likes. “Let’s try again,” Steve says with finality. “Let’s make a baby.”

💕💕💕

A year later, Steve is seven months pregnant and glowing. He had some morning sickness this time, but it went away before the second trimester. Now, he has to pee. All the time. And he’s always hungry.

Eddie dotes on him, making sure even his wildest craving are satisfied, which includes an astounding amount of pickled jalapeños and tapioca pudding. But he’s right on track, everything routine, perfectly healthy.

It’s all worth it. Soon, they’ll get to meet their little girl.

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍: 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚆𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃🩶

🩶*𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘’𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅*

🩶𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝-𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.

🩶𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂: 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃!𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎-𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃!)

🩶𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝: @trashk1tty , @torasgfreal , @dilfismz , @pulparindos , @reddead-salem , @daeholuvs , @radarbiterlover , @partyb0yyyy , @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen , @sawlover353 , @m4nbl00d 𝚂𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 #𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢!

🩶𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 🩶

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

🩶Sang-woo’s POV🩶

A sigh escapes my lips as my chest heaves. The tight, sharp ache in my temples throbs as I’m sitting on the couch. My girlfriend is mad at me. We don’t fight very often at all but today, for some reason, every little thing I say or do gets under her skin.

I know she has been stressed out lately due to some family drama. Her mother has been causing problems, specifically. I told her to just tell her to back off. Tell her don’t even bother talking to us if she’s going to be nosey and judgy 24/7. I’m beyond tired of her letting her mother walk all over her and pick on her. It’s getting to a point where it’s affecting our relationship, almost. She did not appreciate my input.

“You act like you know everything Sang-Woo. Not everyone’s as cold as you, you know? It’s my own Mom, okay? I can’t just tell her to back off and never talk to me again.”

“So you’re going to let her keep using you as a doormat? You’re okay with her coming in here and nitpicking and judging you, and me, too? You complain about the way she acts but you don’t want to do anything about it, tell me, why is that? It’s practically your own fault that you keep letting her critique you.”

I felt my face burn as I said that. It’s the truth, though. And people need to be able to handle the truth, plain and simple. Even if it is your own family.

“Why are you such a smartass? Why can’t you just support me and understand me, huh? I can’t just cut her off. I do love her you know..” She huffed.

“Well, it’s true. You gotta face it whether you like it or not. You never stand up for yourself and you just let her pick on you every single day. But whatever. Be miserable.”

Her lack of boundaries frustrates me to no end. She’s so soft-hearted, which is why I love her so much. But she can be too soft-hearted for her own good.

She storms away to the bedroom. I remain on the couch. If she wants to be stubborn, then fine. I said what I said.

I go to the kitchen and start fixing some ramyeon, since she’s so mad at me she’s not going to cook. She comes around the corner silently and starts making herself a cup of tea. “So you’re not going to talk to me huh.” I say, breaking the heavy silence. She glares at me.

“You just don’t wanna know when to keep your mouth shut Sang-Woo.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“What if you don’t? You wanna fucking see what happens if you don’t?”

Her threat excites me. I feel the blood rush to my dick instantly. That familiar throb followed by the feeling of desperation for relief. “What happens if I don’t? What are you gonna do little girl, huh?” I tease back. I really, REALLY want to see what she will do.

“On your knees.” She commands.

Here we go. I’m so fucking horny my head is cloudy. Seeing her pissed off just really, really does something to me.

I drop to my knees obediently. As I’m looking up at her, she takes my cheek in her hand. “You stupid fucking whore. Always running your mouth. I’m gonna shut you up, alright.”

I swallow thickly. No one, absolutely no one on this Earth, could ever know I’m on my knees for a girl over half my age. I have a reputation. But whenever she’s barking commands at me like a dog I can’t help but feel weak in the knees.

She pulls her sweatpants down and grabs a fistful of my hair. “Let me put that mouth to work, you stupid slut. Shut up for once.”

I am painfully hard. It literally fucking hurts. Just the feeling of my pants brushing against my dick is agonizing. I pull my glasses off and instantly bury my face in her perfect pussy. I lap and suck at her clit as she harshly pulls my hair.

“Ughhhh Sang-woo….g-good boy…” she gasps. The praise just makes me even harder somehow. My tongue dances along her folds. She tastes so sweet, so delicate.

“Gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours Sang-woo-ah.” She moans crudely.

I groan at this, licking and sucking on her clit harder and harder until her thighs shake.

I’m licking up every last drop of her juices as she cums fiercely. Making her lose control with my tongue turns me on more than anything.

“Come on. We’re going to the bedroom.”

She pushes me down on the bed roughly. She yanks my pants down and I groan at the cool air hitting my dick. She digs her fingers into my thighs, holding them down roughly as she kisses and bites along my hips, leaving hickies. I’m absolutely dying to feel her hot, wet mouth on my dick.

“P-please..Please…” I choke out. A steady, clear dribble of pre-cum leaks out of my tip. “Please suck it, please.” I beg. If my friends or my colleagues knew I was this pathetic in the bedroom, absolutely no one would respect me. But I just fucking love it.

“Hmmm…should I? Should I suck it, baby? Is that what you want?” She coos as she rubs my tip against her cheek. The friction makes me choke out a sob. “Please…I want you to—AHH.” I can’t even finish my thought as she shoves my cock in her mouth, almost deepthroating it. The pressure and heat feels insane. “I’m gonna fucking cum in your mouth.” I warn her.

She pulls her mouth off my dick at an instant. “What the fuck, already? You’re such a fucking slut. I haven’t even had my mouth on your dick for a whole minute and you’re already gonna bust. This is a punishment so no, you’re not fucking cumming yet.”

All I can do is moan in response. I can’t even form a coherent thought right now. I just want to cum. Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. I should challenge her. I want this to be the best “punishment” yet.

“So that’s all you’re going to do? That wasn’t even a good blowjob.” I sneer.

My smirk is wiped off of my face by a sharp slap on my cheek. It stings in the absolute best way. “Shut up or I’m leaving you with blue balls.”

“You won’t. You want this just as much as I do.”

“Baby, I have a vibrator in the drawer over there. I don’t need you, you fucking dumb whore.”

Suddenly she walks over to the drawer and I think to myself, ah fuck, maybe the backtalk was a stupid idea after all. My balls literally ache. I need to just feel her tight walls around my dick, I need to shoot my cum deep inside her and knock her up, I need to. Fuck.

She pulls out…rope? From the beside table. I have never seen that before.

“Bet you didn’t know I had this, huh. Since you chose to act like a tough guy, this is the consequence you have to face.”

She wraps the rope around my wrists, tying a tight knot. She then fastens my wrists to the bed post.

Now that I have absolutely no freedom, she’s going to tease me til I break. I know it.

She hovers her bare pussy over my dick and I swear I can feel her heat radiating off of it. I buck my hips up, trying to thrust into her but I can’t. I want it so fucking bad.

She laughs at my attempts. “You want this pussy, don’t you, baby? Huh? Let me hear you beg for it. Beg.”

I’ve never ever been this desperate for any woman EVER. “I want to feel your cunt so badly..please…please princess…I want to be deep inside you…Want you to fuck me so hard.. Wanna put a baby in you.” I’m babbling like a fucking moron. I look up at her, sweat coating my hair and my dick feeling as full as ever.

She slowly lowers her hips onto mine. She grabs my dick and inserts it into herself in a painfully slow manor. I moan like a fucking pornstar at the feeling of her warm cunt squeezing my dick. I feel so filthy and needy.

She sits all the way down and I feel the tip of my dick slam against her wall. She moans out a loud “Fuuuuuck” and wraps her pretty fingers around my neck. She starts pounding herself up and down on me and it feels so fucking good I can barely see. My vision is clouded by pleasure and I feel all of the air leaving my lungs as she chokes me out.

Slowly I feel myself slipping away. Black spots form in my peripheral vision as I start feeling faint. The only thing keeping me conscious is the raw, immense, animalistic pleasure I feel from her sopping wet cunt squeezing my cock. I can feel my vocal cords vibrating as I moan uncontrollably.

Slowly, she releases and I gasp for air. I feel almost…drunk. I’m woozy and out of it and all I can focus on is the feeling of her slamming herself down onto me mercilessly.

“You. Little. Fucking. Slut.” She grunts each word as her beautiful hips connect with my thighs. “Look at yourself. Tied up with a girl over half your age fucking your brains out. You’re old enough to be my dad you disgusting perverted old man. Who the fuck do you belong to?”

She slaps me again as I moan out her name like it’s the only word I have in my vocabulary.

“You! I belong to you, princess!” I cry out. I sound so fucking whiny. I can’t believe this little girl reduces me down to this. I’m not complaining though. I can’t get enough.

She slips her fingers into my mouth and I suck obediently. I moan around them as I look deeply into her eyes. She looks so fucking gorgeous. Her perfect body bouncing up and down on my dick, treating me as her own personal fucktoy. This is where I belong, underneath a goddess.

I feel my stomach squeeze and my thigh muscles tighten. I’m gonna cum any second now.

“Aww is someone going to cum? Go ahead, cum for me since you’ve been such a good boy.” That’s all I needed to hear. Her fingers find their way into my hair. Pulling tightly, she rides out her own orgasm. The stinging sensation on my scalp paired with her tensing up around my dick is enough for me.

I practically scream as I explode inside of her. My orgasm lasts at least a minute. I’m filling her to the brim with my cum, so much so that I can feel it pooling onto my own thighs mixed with her own juices.

I’m on autopilot. My brain is absolutely empty, for once. I feel used. Fucked out. Braindead. Pussydrunk. Both of our chests are shiny with sweat, heaving rapidly as we look at each other lovingly. She unties my wrists.

The corners of my lips upturn as I look at her, still on top of me as she tries to regain the strength to get off.

“Sang-woo…” she coos. Her hand gently strokes my cheek.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I will try to understand you better and see things from your perspective, from now on.” I say softly.

She smiles widely at me. She climbs off of me and rolls onto the bed next to me. She grabs my face, kissing me deeply. I melt into the kiss as I wrap my arms around her waist. She lays her head on my chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I forgive you.”

My arms tighten around her. The feeling of her weight on top of me paired with her warmth is enough to lull me to sleep.

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Well guys I hope you loved it ahhhh!!! I’ve never written a male POV before but it was fun for a change! Sangwoo is so subby to me but mayhaps I’ll write him as a dom to try it out! I think I will make a master list soon as well. We shall see. Question can you do a master list on mobile? Please tell me lol! See you guys in the next fic have a good night!!✌️🩶 -G

[marcelloandtyler]

By the time he reached the summit, snow had begun to fall. It was light and pretty and he wasn't too concerned, figuring it might just be a dusting in the mountains. It wasn't uncommon in the winter for such things to happen, as evidenced by the depth of the snow towards the top of the 3,000 foot mountain he'd ascended. Marcello wasn't an expert in the mountains, but he wasn't stupid. He was aware of weather dangers and how things could quickly change, and this didn't worry him. Besides, he'd past by a few other hikers - some going up, like him, and some descending. It was nice knowing he wasn't alone out here.

Instead, he focused on the beauty of the fresh snow clinging to the needles on the pine trees and the way everything sagged with the weight of it. At the top, he felt better. Marcello knew Levi. His depression was coating his brain, like a plague seeping into his thoughts and tainting everything into something ugly. Max had been trying to get under his skin and when he talked to Levi later, he would tell him how it all made him feel and get his take on it. He had to trust Levi. They'd talked about all of this in the past and he'd warned Levi about his depressive episodes, so he knew his boyfriend would understand. He just had to trust it, had to trust Levi. They were together for a reason.

At the top, he snapped a few photos because it was too gorgeous not to. He had no bars and he realized his battery was pretty low, so he turned his phone off to conserve it for the way home. He had an orange and a protein bar before he made his way back down. It was, admittedly, more difficult to descend with the snow making things a bit slippery, but his mood was better and he took it slow.

It was the late afternoon when he got back to his car and he realized almost immediately that the snow was sweeping through the whole area. The parking lot was coated and not yet plowed, but he didn't think it looked too bad. He dropped his bag in the backseat, started the engine to warm it up, and grabbed his brush to dust off the car. Once he finished, he got into the car to leave. As soon as he put it in reverse, his heart sank. His tires spun and he could only back out about a foot before it stopped. He tried a few times, rocking his car back and forth, but it was useless. He was stuck.

He took a deep breath and relaxed back, trying to figure out what to do. He had no service, but he figured a plow would be around eventually; though, would they really prioritize plowing a small parking lot with a trailhead? The only thing that made him feel a little better was small pickup truck and an SUV in the parking lot and he assumed they belonged to the people he'd passed on the trail. Maybe they'd be able to help in some way.

Marcello sat there for nearly an hour before two women who looked to be in their 20s exited the trail and began heading towards the SUV. He sucked up his anxiety and hopped out of his car, walking over to them, giving them a wave.

"Hey! Uh-- My car is stuck and I've no service," he said.

"Oh no! We have no service either," one of them said. "Do you need a ride? This baby can get through anything." She patted the hood of the SUV as the other girl grabbed a snow brush out of the car and began dusting it off.

Marcello's brows furrowed. "Uh-- Maybe? I don't really know what to do. I was hoping someone would be by to plow," he said.

"They probably will eventually," she said, glancing around. "We're happy to give you a ride, though, and maybe you can call a plow company for help?"

Marcello nodded, considering. He really wasn't sure he had any other options unless he wanted to possibly sit in his car until morning. Without service, he had no way of getting out of here.

"Okay," he said. "Thank you. That's really kind of you."

"No problem," she said, smiling. "I'm Lucy and that's Megan."

Megan waved. "Sorry about your car," he called as she scraped the back window. Lucy opened the driver's side and got in to start the SUV.

"Yeah, it kind of blows," he admitted, managing a smile. "Let me just grab my bag."

He went back to his car and turned it off, taking his keys and bag, making sure he had his wallet before he returned to the girls.

The SUV had difficulty navigating the streets and they drove slow, Lucy gripping the steering wheel. Marcello learned they were from Massachusetts, too, and were renting an Airbnb to enjoy winter sports for the week during their college winter break. When Lucy nearly slid off the road, they decided to head back to their Airbnb since it was close by. Marcello hated the idea of driving all the way home in this weather, but he supposed the plows would be out and he'd just go slow and get home late.

"Oh god, I just remembered," Megan said as they pulled into the snow covered driveway of a little, yellow house. "We barely have service here."

"Is there wifi?" Marcello asked. "I just need to make that call and text some family."

"Yes, and there's a phone, actually. Which we both thought was weird because like what is it, 2005?" Lucy asked, laughing. "Who has landlines anymore?"

They went inside and stomped off their shoes on the mat. The girls shed their clothes and boots and they invited Marcello to do the same, allowing them to dry by the heater. Lucy retrieved the Wifi password for him, which he used to first google who to call about plowing. He found a number and got no one, then tried a few more that he found until someone finally picked up. Basically, they were all hands on deck and he gave them the location of the trail where his car was stuck and they said they'd get to it as soon as they could, but it'd likely be hours.

"Fuck," he said as he hung up.

"Hey, no sweat, you're like... gay, right?" Megan asked.

Lucy smacked her arm. "You can't just--"

"He's got a rainbow pin on his bag and--"

"Oh my god," Megan sighed.

"Um," Marcello said, blushing. "Yeah. Definitely gay."

"Okay, well you can totally stay here, right?" Megan asked, looking at Lucy, who nodded agreeably.

"We're not psycho murderers, promise," Megan added.

Marcello laughed a little. "I'm also not," he said. "Alright. Uh. Let me text my boyfriend..."

MARCELLO: Hey, so sorry. Went for a hike in NH and it snowed. I'm stuck. Long story, but bad service and dying battery.

"Hey, do either of you have an iPhone charger?" he asked. It turned out they were both Droid users and of course the one he'd packed was in his car, so he was out of luck. He kept typing.

[cont.]: Be home as soon as I can tomorrow. Love you.

He stared at his phone, seeing how long it was taking to go through when he looked up at the Wifi. It was down to one bar. He sighed, holding his phone. He powered the screen down, hoping to preserve battery and praying it would go through. As he waited, he chatted with the girls who were very nice but extremely nosy.

Finally, it looked like the text went through just as he saw a couple messages from Levi pour in as the service restored. Before he could read them, his phone died. He wanted to cry, honestly, but he had to keep it together as there was nothing he could do. He was just glad he'd gotten the text through. Too bad he had no one's phone number memorized and he hadn't thought to write it down before or he'd at least call his twin.

He needed a distraction.

"Hey, do you want me to cook dinner? I'm a professional chef," he said, hoping to dodge more questions from them and offer them something up for his gratitude. They were very pleased to accept the offer.

Levi worked through the day, focusing on making sure his oil changes went okay. He was moved up to working on a car with one of the other employees after lunch and was grateful to be able to get in there and really show off his skills.

He felt like he'd done a good job of it when the other said he was impressed after checking over his work, and he smiled at him, giving him thanks.

He went to clean up at the end of the day, wiping the grease from himself before changing out of his uniform and into his clothes.

When he was all cleaned up, he checked his phone, furrowing his brows when he didn't see a message from Marcello. He wasn't sure if that meant he didn't want food or if he'd forgotten, so he typed up a quick message.

LEVI: Hey, I'm going to head out. Did you want dinner?

He sent the message and then went to punch out before hopping in his car. He figured he could check his messages closer to home because there were some good, fast places out that way.

[jamieroyjamieroy]

Bucktommyfluffebruary Day 2 - The secret ingredient

@bucktommyfluffebruary

“I thought we were cooking this together” Tommy laughs as Evan kisses the back of his neck and runs his hands down his sides. 

“We’re together. You’re cooking. It counts.” Evan replies placing more open mouthed kisses to Tommy’s neck, his hands firmly gripping Tommy’s hips and pulling their bodies together.

“I thought you wanted to learn so you could impress Bobby on your next shift.” Tommy smiles at the contact, he’s not really complaining at the attention he is receiving. He loves being close to Evan no matter what they are doing.

“Hmm, you put the ingredients in. You stir. I got it” Evan murmurs distracted by the skin under Tommy’s shirt. That little bit of extra padding on Tommy’s stomach is exciting to Evan. While they were apart Tommy had lost too much weight and stopped taking care of himself. Once they got back together Evan made it his job to cook and bake for Tommy so he would regain what he lost. He doesn’t even miss the definition of his abs like he thought he might. Tommy has always been attractive to him and he had spent many hours kissing and licking those abs but he much prefers Tommy like this. The evidence of his ability to care for and provide for his boyfriend is even more arousing than the sacrifices Tommy needed to make so he could look good without a shirt.

“Missing a few steps baby but if you aren’t interested in my family recipes we can stop and you will never know the secret ingredient.” Tommy sighs pretending to be disappointed. He hopes the mention of a secret ingredient might just be enough to get Evan to pay attention. Not that he wants the attention that is being paid to him to stop, he was just excited to share another part of himself with Evan.

“Secret ingredient?” Evan asks head popping up to look at what Tommy’s hands are doing. It reminds Tommy of the meerkat documentary they watched last night the way Evan is looking over his shoulder and around the counter, trying to work out which one is the secret to pulling this dish together.

“Well my secret ingredient. My mother’s mother made this one a little differently. My mother changed it again slightly when she would make it for me. And I make it different again, not much but I’ve put my own little spin on the recipe.” Tommy explains measuring out each ingredient carefully. His mother was a more of an ‘add until you think it looks right’ type of cook. He has always been more precise, more controlled just like with his flying. With his life really. He is learning to be more flexible especially now that Evan has given him another chance.

“So if I teach it to our children would I get to put my own spin on it or do I have to teach them your way?” Evan asks resting his chin on Tommy’s shoulder to watch him work. He feels the moment his words register with Tommy, both their bodies tense up. Likely for different reasons, Evan didn’t mean to say that out loud so he is bracing for Tommy to reject him. He breathes deeply when he feels Tommy relax. 

“You, you think about us having children?” Tommy asks trying to look back at Evan, his arms had clenched tight around him. He can feel the worry emanating from Evan.

“I, uh, well. I know. It’s uh” Evan struggles to find the words, burying his head into Tommy’s back to hide the emotions written all over his face. 

 “I think we would have to try your version before I let you teach our children.” Tommy says rubbing a hand over Evan’s arm. Trying to comfort and reassure Evan he isn’t running away from this.

 “Yeah?” Evan asks hope filling his voice. “You, you want kids? With me?” He replaces his chin back on Tommy’s shoulder to watch him prepare their meal.

 “It’s definitely something I’ve thought about. It may be a little early to think seriously about that for us but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy knowing you are thinking about it too.” Tommy answers as honestly as he can. He has a lot of concerns about being a dad especially given his shitty relationship with his own father. It’s something he hasn’t closed the door on now that Evan is back in his life.

 “I know it’s early I didn’t mean to bring it up, I’m not even certain if I want that. My parents weren’t the best role models so I don’t know if I want to pass on that generational trauma. But I’ve never really thought about even the possibility of having my own family before you. Maybe we can just be the fun uncles for Maddie and Chim’s kids. You can be their favourite Guncle, I’ll be their favourite Buncle.” Evan laughs at the thought.

 “What are you even talking about? What is a Guncle? Or a Buncle?” Tommy asks confused. His mind completely off his task of cooking, sometimes he feels every single one of his 40 years.

 “Gay uncle and Bi uncle” Evan grins ridiculously as Tommy shakes his head.

 “You are such a dork. Now pay attention so you can teach our children or our niblings how to make this.” Tommy chides pulling Evan’s arms around him tighter enjoying the feel of Evan’s lips against his cheek as he peers over to watch.

 Future Tommy and future Evan can worry about children, all he wants to do right now is enjoy the feel of his boyfriend against his back. To share with him some of his history and then maybe reassure Evan that he isn’t running away from the scary topics they both seemingly want to talk about. The way Evan is moving his hands over Tommy’s body suggests the order of those wants might be reversed. Tommy makes the wise decision to turn off the stove, cooking together can wait a little while.

Read on Ao3

[jirishnesensei]

Mirio Togata x Reader | Isekai AU [18+]

Warming up to you ch3. It's an anime

⊱ Pairings - mirio 3rd year student x reader

⊱ About - Boku No Hero Academia was your favourite anime. You watched it every week when a new episode came out, but what if you were transported into the world?Having no clue how you got there and you're being accused of being a part of the League Of Villians.Suffice to say, it's not the best way to start the show.

⊱ Warnings/tags - 18+ (eventually), fluff(for the most part), angst, smut, fem reader, romance, pining, SLOW BURN, swearing, friends to lovers, death, jealousy, she falls first he falls harder, mirio is mean (with reason), first everything, sassy mirio, fangirl reader, unrequited love

⊱ status - ongoing

⊱ chapters - 3/x

⊱ word count - 2.4k

A/N - Hello! omg it's been a long time coming posting this story here XD just wanted to say thank you for those that hearted, reblogged and all that! This is unfathomably one of my most prized stories that's been giving me a migraine for years (seriously, and still ongoing) but I hope you enjoy it as much as I have (⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠) okay bye!

Mirio decided to have Sir Night eye ask you the questions about Shie Hassaikai, which was smart on his account.

Now you were both heading over to Sir Nighteyes agency bright and early in the morning. Mirio definitely didn't know what sleeping in meant. You yawned obnoxiously loud to maybe catch the attention of a certain blonde and it was a success going off of the look he gave you.

"You slept for at least 9 hours."

"Yeah, well I need twelve. Thirteen if I need to do things during the day." You answered sarcastically. It's like the boy forgot you fell down thousands of feet from the sky not even 24 hours ago. He didn't entertain anymore conversation after that and it was a fairly quick walk to the agency.

Mirio stopped infront of a large set of green doors. Pushing one open while gesturing for you to go in first. You walked through, already feeling the cold air conditioning hit your bare skin.

You were given the lovely opportunity to wash your face and brush your teeth, but you were still dressed in the same clothes from your world. You felt gross, and that's putting it lightly.

"His office is this way." Mirio says as he walked down the long corridor then started his way up the signature spiral staircase. Your body was getting tingly at the thought of meeting Sir Nighteye. What were you going to tell him? He isn't even nice... so what if he doesn't even give you a chance to speak? What if he wants you to make him laugh?! Oh god you were terrible at jokes. Now that you were hopelessly scared, you tugged on Mirios white collard shirt, making him look down at you.

"Mirio I don't know how to make Sir Night eye laugh." You didn't see it but Mirio's eyes widened at how you knew one of his mentors rules. He didn't allow you to hear the shock in his voice though.

"Don't worry, if you're telling the truth then Sir won't care if you make him laugh or not." You nodded limbly. Still a bit shaken from the idea of meeting the Sir Nighteye.

When you reached the top of the stairs and walked down one last corridor, Mirio held the door knob and looked back at you. Your head hung low, it was obvious you were psyching yourself out. He rolled his eyes, not liking how his sense of hero duties were clouding his judgement with the fact that you could be a villain. Nonetheless he faced you and held your shoulders. The contact makes your skin crawl and hold your breath and for the first time since looking at him you actually notice how blue his eyes are. Like the deepest part of the ocean where sunlight can't even reach. Okay, that's leaning more towards black... but that's just how much melanin is in his eyes.

"Stop worrying, everything will be fine." He gives you one of those hero smiles, the kind that melts your heart and nearly your legs too, but you had atleast some kind of self-control. For now.

Mirio turns back to the door so you can get distracted by his broad back instead and knocks twice before walking in, now beaming brightly as the Mirio Togata you and every bnha fan knew. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that.

"Good morning Sir!" 

You peer past him and see the one and only Sasaki Mirai, aka, Sir Nighteye seated by his desk.

"Mirio. is this the girl?" Sir Nighteye looks you over and it feels like his gaze pierced straight through your very soul. He was so much more intimidating in person. How in the world did Midoriya have the guts to make fun of All Might under these circumstances?

"Yes Sir. She claims she has information on Shie Hassaikai." Sir Nighteye nods then thanks Mirio for the notice before telling him to head off to campus. As Mirio turned to leave, you look at him with pleading eyes to not leave you alone, ofcourse he doesn't stay... but a girl can dream, right?

The door slams shut and now it was just you and Sir Nighteye in the room. You glanced around, trying not to make direct eye contact with him and instead focused on all the All Might merchandise that was everywhere. There was actually way more than they focused on in the anime...

"Do you know what my quirk is?" Sir Nighteye startles you out of your daze and his cold voice makes you stand straighter like you're in the military.

"Yes sir! It's foresight! You are able to look into a person's future upon contact with them for an hour!" You yelled this as if you were being graded for a test. And the outcome of that test is either prison or freedom. It was only now that you realize if you can't back up your claim, you could be in some serious touble here. Sir Nighteye hmph'ed as if satisfied with your answer and then stood up from his chair, making you flinch slightly.

"So you know what will happen if I look into your future." He states calmly, removing his glasses to clean while walking around his desk and then leaned his lower back on it. Hunching slightly from his tall posture.

You nod, unsure where he was going by stating that.

"Tell me something only I would know miss..?"

"Uh (y/n)... (y/n) (l/n)" You answered.

"Miss (y/n)" He gestured for you to continue. You visibly gulped. Was it getting hot in here? It feels like it's getting hotter. What do you tell him? You could tell him about Midoriya being the successor for One For All... that should definitely prove it, but that could land you in big trouble for even knowing such a secret. You pondered and pondered over what to say, making Sir Nighteye grow impatient.

"If you don't know-"

"No wait! I do... I do know, I just don't know which scene to tell you about-" Sir Nighteye grew confused by your choice of words, but gave you a few more minutes.

You bit your lip and wrung your fingers, desperately trying to will your mind to think of something, anything. You were very nervous if it wasn't painfully obvious already.

"Oh! I know!" Sir Nighteye looked at you intently as you were about to speak. You knew exactly what to say now.

"I can tell you exactly what happened-" you start, Sir Nighteye leans a bit forward, not fooling anyone with how intrigued he was on how you could supposedly tell them exactly where Shie Hassaikai is.

"-when Midoriya came to request for a work study here!" You finished with a winning smile as if you just said the numbers to the lottery. Sir Nighteye visibly sunk at what you just said then pushed his glasses back up, clearly not impressed by your revelation.

"Wait, just hear me out atleast! Wouldn't it be crazy if I could tell you exactly what happened in this room without ever being in it? Even what happened before Midoriya and Mirio walked into the room?" You urged. Sir Nighteye sighed, looked over his shoulder at his All Might clock then back at you. 

"Okay fine, I'll bite. Tell me what happened. Before Midoriya and Mirio walked in."

You nod earnestly and rack up all of your memories from that scene. You had watched this season so many times, you couldn't get it wrong the one time you needed to truly remember it.

"Bubble girl, your assistant, was telling you about the incident that was linked to Shie Hassakai and the league of villains. I'm not sure where the place was... but you were watching an All Might video while she spoke to you and because she wasn't being humorous enough, you tied her to some torture tickling machine and started to tickle her!" You finish off like you just convinced your mother that it wasn't you who broke her favourite dish. Eagerly waiting for Sir nighteye's response.

He was definitely shocked going off of his expression. You told him near to the tea what was happening before Mirio and Midoriya walked in which so to speak should be impossible. He pushes his glasses up again, not wanting to show more of his emotion and spoke.

"What happened when they entered?" You bit your bottom lip.

Did I get something wrong?

You cleared your throat and tried to remember what happened after, "You told Midoriya that he has to make you laugh for you to consider him as an intern and so he imitated All Might, which I thought was really funny, but you accused him of ridiculing All Might and then told him his wrinkles were in the wrong places and then... you both just kinda went at it and fanboyed over All Might." You laughed nervously.

"Oh! and before you stamped Midoriyas papers you made him spar with you! Which he lost... but he completely dodged all of your All Might posters, right?!" You hold your breath. You could feel your palms sweating. You were desperately trying to get Sir Nighteye to believe you here, but his stoic expression was so difficult to read through. He sighs once more and walked over to you. You step back in fear, but he grabbed your shoulder to keep you in place and used his quirk on you. You were hypnotized the second that he did, eyes fixated on his. They were actually moving like gears... tiny, mini gears and it was incredible. Sir Nighteye lets go of you and then stood up straight again.

"It's near to impossible that you could tell me that, but I still don't understand how. What is your quirk?" He looks down at you so intensely. Your legs really felt like they were going to give in at any moment. You laugh awkwardly under his gaze that now felt like they could see right through your skin. Like you're talking intestines and everything. It made you uncomfortable.

"Its not a quirk... it's um... haha, you're gonna think this is funny, but it's an anime." His expression stays the same, as if waiting for the punchline.

I knew he wanted a joke!

"I uh, gosh," You awkwardly rub your forehead, "I don't know how else to explain it..." You look down to the ground, feeling too exposed to look him directly in the eye anymore. Sir Nighteye realized this and turned on his heel to sit back down by his desk, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite. You take his offer and sit down then suck in a decent breath, preparing for the millions of questions to follow.

"I'm not from this planet. Or whatever this place is. Back where I'm from this place is known as My Hero Academia. An anime that people around the globe watch."

⊱ Next chapter: Coming soon!

⊱ Take me to the prev chap!

Taglist - @the-faceless-bride @distinguishedoafbiscuitopera

Dividers by - @cafekitsune and @strangergraphics

[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

—synopsis. mandy invites you to hangout with some of her friends. christmas vlog vid

notes 🫧: guys i need hamzah bad

— 🐞

you sighed with content as you finally landed on an outfit you liked. it was a plain long sleeve with a pair of loose dark wash jeans, you weren’t sure what everyone else would be wearing so you picked something simple.

your phone buzzed, mandy asking if you were on your way to her house. you sent her a voice message as you threw on your coat and grabbed your keys along with your purse and phone.

mandy had invited you over to hang out with her, martin, and hamzah and his friends, who you knew from 4freakshow.

you'd never met chase and claire before, but you've hung out with martin and hamzah a few times with mandy.

you met her when she was in nursing school, becoming friends after a few awkward encounters. she introduced you to martin and after a while you met hamzah, in person at least, since the two of you already followed each other.

you parked your car outside their house and adjusted your lip gloss in the rearview. you were a little nervous for some reason. maybe it was the fact that you were late, maybe it was the new people you were meeting, or maybe it was the vlog.

you have your own youtube channel but being apart of other people's videos always made you feel a little awkward.

you texted mandy that you arrived and headed for the front door, martin opening it before you could knock.

"someone's a little late" martin joked as he let you inside. "oh my god i forgot you guys went bald. that was a freaking jumpscare." you teased.

mandy came up to give you a hug "i know, they look insane. i did not approve." she said  before you were introduced to chase and claire. chase walked up with the camera, focused on you. "hi youtube" you stuck out your tongue.

"now that y/n is finally here, the trio outfit is complete." claire handed you a set of pajamas, matching the ones her and mandy had on. you grinned and complimented the set before hamzah came out from the back hallway.

"oh hey, didn't know you got here already" he dapped you up. "boi yes you did, literally went to the bathroom to fix his hair" claire teased. "oh wait..." chase joined in, making you laugh.

"i don't know why he's got this freaking tuque on anyways. embrace the bald dude, embrace the skin." martin pulled his beanie down and rubbed hamzah's bald head, urging hamzah to push him away.

"yo! he just fucking sniffed me" hamzah laughed, grabbing his beanie from his hand. "we're just cucking the viewers i guess" martin said, leaving everyone just staring at him awkwardly.

"yeah anyways, y/n you could go change in my room" mandy told you. "heh, just be careful what you find in there" martin leaned into a shrug. "dude stop" hamzah flicked his hand over martin's head.

once you were changed, chase made you do a twirl for the camera and you posed before tripping out.

"so how come y/n gets a pajama set, but you said no to me?" martin asked mandy. "cause she's one of the girls and you're not a girl"

"plus nobody told you to wear them freak ass leggings boi" hamzah teased him and you laughed. he looked over at you, taking in the fact that he made you laugh.

hamzah always thought you were really pretty and cool, even back when you first followed each other during the 4freakshow days. you didn't even have a youtube channel back then, only posting random tiktoks he thought were funny.

"alright y'all let's get to baking, i'm hungry" chase said behind the camera before flipping it towards him.

you stood next to hamzah as claire pulled up the recipe on her tiktok and her, mandy, and chase got started on measuring things out.

“you can’t just do it willy nilly style brah, measure it” you told martin as he began pouring sugar into the mix. “sometimes you have to live life on the edge, y/n” martin scoffed.

as you continued baking the cookies, you realized how glad you were that you decided to come. martin and hamzah were always a hoot but you really liked claire and chase too.

“noo it was my legs and he said ‘you’re scratching your ass’” claire defended herself from chase and hamzah’s teasing. “girl no i was right behind you”

“we’re having booty cookies” “we got fucking booty flavor” you and hamzah joked at the same time, causing you to crack up and slap his arm.

you took your hand off, not expecting his bicep to be so strong. he nudged you with his elbow, still laughing.

“so, are you actually gonna help bake, y/n?” chase playfully raised his eyebrow. “right, standing here doing nothing” hamzah added. “oh bitch says you, who’s actually done nothing. mr. nonchalant baldhead.” you joked, grabbing the camera from chase and putting it in hamzah’s face.

“boi get outta here boi” he laughed.

while the cookies baked, you guys moved on to putting up the christmas tree. you sat down with chase and claire and began unfolding the branches of the tree. hamzah followed suit, taking a seat on the floor next to you.

rudy walked up to hamzah, who grabbed him with one hand under his belly and placed him in his lap. “awww rudy, who’s a cutie cootie coo. ah poochy poochy poo” you reached over hamzah’s leg to pet the dog.

you scratched behind his ear, unknowing of hamzah staring at you while you did it. “alright let’s put in some freaking work guys” claire said and hamzah lifted rudy into the couch behind him.

“why do you literally manhandle everything that comes your way?” you teased. “like in the video where you’re flinging around fish” hamzah just chuckled in response.

“wait chase, i like your leggings” claire said from behind the camera. “what these aren’t leggings?”

“i’m just saying i’ve never seen a boy wear leggings, it’s a compliment”

“they’re not leggings, they’re thermals! they’re long johns..long johns?” martin retorted, displaying his leg out in front of the other. “you’re wearing fucking leggings”

you and hamzah stifled your laughs in the corner as they continued and martin teared up, walking off with the camera as a bit. “claire you actually made him cry” you giggled.

you felt hamzah lean himself closer to you, taking advantage of the laughing fit everyone was in.

after a while, the cookies were done as you finished decorating the tree, adding a little christmas bunny along with everyone else’s personalized ornaments.

you turned around to hamzah manspreading on the couch, trying to ignore your thoughts about how sexy it was and followed everyone else into the kitchen.

you all iced the cookies before doing a taste test, “boi crumbl cookie could neverrrr” you joked, as the cookies actually turned out bad. “this shit is way too sweet oh my god” hamzah said, spitting his into the trash. “ew dude have some manners” martin scolded him.

once mandy ended the vlog, you all lounged around her living room until you got a emergency text from your roommate.

“bruh, my roommate messed up something with our dryer. i have to go” you frowned. “awww noooo” chase frowned with you. “it was really nice meeting you” he said. “yeah, you’re funny as fuck” claire added. “oh i love you” you hugged her before getting your coat off the rack.

“im so glad you actually came” mandy said. “well thanks for inviting me” you playfully stuck out your tongue. “i’ll see you next time we hang out in like four to six weeks” you said, sarcastically. “ugh tell me about it” she smiled as you dapped martin.

hamzah came out from the bathroom, “you’re leaving?” he asked. “yeah my roommate needs help” you pressed your lips together. “oh…..it was cool seeing you though” he dapped you up, pulling you into a small hug. “you too” you smiled, holding his hand a little longer before your phone buzzed again.

“anyways merry christmas and happy holidays everyone! byeeeee” you closed the door behind you and head for your car.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantastic and others

lvryn mini dump 💩

user omg is she the reason hamzah was acting so mysterious this video

user yall saw the way they were so close to each other this video

user gorgeous girl 😍

— 🐞

[yoonkinii]

Waiting...

Based on Fluffleboo's post Warning(s): death, mentions of death, hopelessness, murder, kidnapping, grief, depressive episodes, panic attacks, throwing up, mention of attempted su!c!de. Masterlist I hope I did a good job with her idea.

Note: I did change some of the events that take place but this idea and writing was heavily based on Fluffleboo (@fluffleboo) and their brain from coming up with this. Thank you for allowing me to use your idea and to create something with it. 

Reader is female (sorry I have not mastered being able to write with no gender yet), no use of Y/N, reader is of the elf lineage (makes astarion being gone for 200 year and the reader not being dead or super old make sense) 

I should also make it known that the reader and astarion didn’t live in Baldur’s Gate at the beginning, it wouldn’t make sense if I didn’t change it so lets pretend they just lived in another major city. 

LOTS of flashbacks, I’m sorry if it gets confusing but I wanted to write it in a way where there’s backstory to everything. If you need any clarification, let me know and I’ll do my best to explain it. It sort of gives context before having a flashback tied in with the context before it leads up to the main point with no more flashbacks.

Astarion has Green eyes Pre-Vampyr Spawn. Astarion is a little OOC cause teehee. 

I did include parts of the song “Will you fall in love with me again” in here, don’t be surprised if you see them. 

She remembers the night he vanished - the way the stars burned bright, oblivious to the absence that would soon consume her. She had woken to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should have been. At first, there was no panic, only reason. He had told her he would be late, something about unrest in the streets, disputes over the new laws he passed. 

So she simply sighed, turned over, and let sleep reclaim her. 

It wasn’t until the next evening, when the sun hung high and the space beside her remained untouched, that the panic finally set in. 

“You’re staring again.”

His voice, smooth like velvet and as warm as the morning rays slipping through the curtains hitting his skin; casting him in a warm glow as he sits against the headboard, silver framed reading glasses hanging low on his nose. 

His voice was smooth, warm like the golden light slipping through the curtains, casting his skin in a soft glow. He sat against the headboard, silver-framed reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a stack of parchment resting in his hands. 

She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric rustling as she propped herself up on her forearms. The blanket sliding down, baring the curve of her back to the morning air. 

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, tilting her head with a smile. “You’re absolutely enchanting.”

He snorted, amusement flickering across his face as he glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “Enchanting?” he echos, setting the papers aside on the dark wooden table beside the bed.

She moved with him, closing the space between them, her body molding against his as if drawn by an unseen force. A sigh left her lips as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, letting herself sink into the warmth of him, of the moment. 

She hummed. “Of course. You practically glow in the sun - like a feline.” 

A sudden pinch at her hip makes her squeal, laughter bubbling from her throat as she tries pushing him away, her hands pressed against his chest. He only tightened his hold, pulling her even closer, silencing her giggles with a kiss that stole the breath straight from her lungs. 

Their lips hovered, teasing, their words nothing more than whispers against the soft curve of each other’s mouths. 

“Are you calling me an enchanting feline?”

Her fingers found his hair ,carding through the silken strands, untangling the knots sleep had left behind. His eyes, green as polished emeralds, gazed at her like she had hung the stars themselves. 

“Of course not,” she said, voice softer now, reverent. She let her fingers trail down, curling at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re my enchanting husband.”

“Your husband is dead.” 

The world is muffled, nothing registers in her head as the same words echo in her head over and over again. 

The words were distant, muffled, as if spoken through water. They echoed in her mind, looping over and over, a cruel, inescapable refrain. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Your husband is dead. 

She falls apart in the parlor room of her house. 

She collapses in the parlor, the weight of those words tearing her apart at the seams. 

She searched - Gods, she searched. Every alleyway, every dim-lit tavern, every shadowed corner of the city. She scoured the streets until her boots split at the seams, until her hands were caked in filth, until grief hollowed her cheeks and darkened her eyes. She pleaded with the Flaming Fist, her voice raw from desperation, begging them to look harder, to do more. 

Weeks dragged into months. And then, one day, they stopped looking. 

Bile rose in her throat, spilling onto the floor in a sickening splatter as she doubled over on the couch. The room spun, too loud, too quiet, too dull. Through blurred vision, she barely registered the subtle grimaces behind the thin veil of sympathy. 

Hands settled on her, cradling her like a wounded thing, whispering empty comforts. Hollow reassurances that everything would be alright. But how could anything be alright when everything was lost? 

The words didn’t feel real. They were an ill-fitting mask over an unbearable truth, easier to swallow than the vast, gaping unknown. Bandits. Wild Beasts. A moment of misfortune that stole him away. But there was nothing. No body. No proof. Just a verdict, wrapped in empty condolences. 

The home the had built together became a mausoleum, haunted by laughter that no longer filled its halls. Days blurred together, each one as lifeless as the last. Friends told her to grieve, to let go, to move on. 

But how could she, when there was no grave to mourn over?

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. 

The hearth consumes the room in a comfortable warmth, the heat fighting off the chill that comes along with the night air. 

The hearth bathed the room in golden light, its warmth chasing away the lingering chill of the night. The fire crackled and popped, filling the silence with its steady rhythm, its flickering glow bright enough for her to make out the inked words on the pages of her book. 

She nestled deeper into the maroon velvet of the chaise lounge, the fabric soft against her skin. A cotton blanket draped over her frame, cocooning her in comfort. It was a quiet night, peaceful. Or at least, it had been.

The ornate wooden doors of the manor opened with a soft creak, followed by the unmistakable sound of his groan echoing through the halls - frustrated, tired. The noise grew louder as he made his way toward her, his presence a storm rolling in to disturb the calm.

She didn’t look up when he rounded the couch, didn’t shift her attention from the book in her hands even as his briefcase hit the floor with a muted thud. 

“How was work, my love? She asked, voice lilting with amusement. 

Rather than answer immediately, he slotted himself between her legs, resting his head against her lower stomach with a dramatic sigh. His groan vibrated against her skin, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. One hand fell from her book, fingers threading lazily through his hair. 

“I take it that it went well?”

He scoffed, shifting just enough that she could feel the eye rolls that accompanied it. 

“Oh, of course,” he drawled, “If you consider imbeciles squabbling over meaningless matters without reaching a single useful conclusion, then yes - today was absolutely splendid.”

Her shoulders bounces in silent laughter as she flipped the page. Before she could read another word, the book was plucked from her hands, stolen in one swift motion. She barely had time to protest before he spoke again. 

“Let’s go somewhere.”

She arched a brow as he propped his chin on her stomach, gazing up at her. Absentmindedly, her fingers trailed from his hair to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping gently across his cheekbone. 

“And where exactly would we go?” 

He sighed as if the answer should have been obvious. “Anywhere.” His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a soft pout. Looking up at her through his lashes, he murmured, “Let’s just leave. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere it’s just us. I want uninterrupted time with you, away from- “ he groaned again, “gods-damned idiots.”

She hummed, feigning contemplation, “Anywhere?”

His eyes brightened, brimming with something she was sure she mirrored back at him. Love. He looked like a child promised a long-awaited treat, excitement shimmering in his gaze. 

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, nodding eagerly. 

She exhaled a quiet laugh. “I suppose we can- when we get the chance.” 

His grin was instant, sharp and boyish, his joy utterly unrestrained. Before she could say more, he pushed himself up, leaning in just enough to steal a kiss- brief but lingering, leaving her chasing the ghost of it as he pulled away. 

“It’s settled, then. I’ll handle things at work, and once it’s all arranged, we’ll go.”

Tilting her head, she watched him, bemused by the way he practically glowed with anticipation. “You make it sound as if this trip is going to be enchanting.”

He dropped to his knees before her, fingers curling around her hands with reverence, as if she were something fragile, something sacred. Her heart stuttered, warmth rushing to her cheeks. 

“Oh, it will be,” he murmured, lips curving into something sly. “As enchanting as a feline.”

She huffed an incredulous laugh, ready to tease him, only for the words to die in her throat as he lifted her hand to his lips. His mouth pressed softly against her knuckles - against the delicate band of silver circling her finger. 

His voice was barely more than a whisper, a vow spoken against her skin. 

“For you, I would do anything. Any chance I got.”

But they never got their chance. 

The carriage swayed with the uneven rhythm of the dirt road, jostling her body with every dip and rise. She barely noticed. Her fingers twisted her wedding band absently, rolling the cool metal over her skin again and again as she gazed out the window. The forest stretched endlessly beyond the glass, its foreign trees casting long shadows in the fading light. 

She had left everything behind. Sold everything she owned in pursuit of a ghost. The acceptance others poke of never came, nor did the quiet surrender that grief was meant to bring. How could she believe he was gone when there was no proof? No body, no grave - only silence. Her heart had never settled. Her future had become a weight, a chore she carried rather than a path she walked with purpose. 

So she had set out, wordlessly, determined to reclaim what had been stolen from her

Two hundred years.

Two hundred years of searching, of chasing whispers across the vast expanse of Faerûn. SHe scoured city after city, hired investigators, pleaded with mercenaries, begged the gods themselves. Each inquiry ended the same.

“Sorry. We couldn’t find anything about your husband.”

Again and again, the words repeated until they were carved in her bones, hollowing her out with every rejection. Slowly, hope had withered. And with it, her very soul. 

Then, when she had nothing left - when she had stood at the edge of a balcony, staring down the yawning abyss below - she overheard the murmured conversation of tenants beneath her. A city saved. Heroes who had risen from the darkness to pull Baldur’s Gate back from the brink. 

It was a city she had never searched, one she had long dismissed as too distant, too unlikely. But hope, weak and flickering, ignited once more. If he wasn’t there, then perhaps these so-called heroes could help. 

She had stepped away from the ledge and set out that very night. 

“We’re here. My lady.”

The driver’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She barely acknowledged him as she stepped from the carriage, pressing the free into his hands without a word. He thanked her, but she was already walking.

Before her stood the great gates of Baldur’s Gate, scarred by battle, the remnants of war still etched into the stone. And beyond them - a sight unlike any other. 

Fae, humans, tieflings, githyanki, orcs, halflings, dragonborn, dwarfs, drow - so many walking the streets, their lives intertwining in a way that made the city feel more alive than any she had visited before. But beneath the movement, beneath the rebuilding, there was a quiet grief that settled over the people like dust. She recognized it well. 

No one spared her a second glance. Not for her sullen expression, not for the way her clothes hung from her frame, weathered by wind and rain. The rich burgundy fabric of her gown had dulled with time, its once - soft texture long since roughened by travel. But she had never cared for the stares, nor the whispered opinions of those who thought a woman should not cross the realm in such impractical clothing. 

Her dress had been tailored for survival - study linen layers beneath flowing skirts allowed for swift movement, hidden slits cut along the sides ensuring she could run, ride, fight if she needed to. A wide leather belt cinched her waist, pouches filled with coin, letters, maps, herbs, and the one thing she never parted with. 

A single, tattered parchment. 

Her fingers brushed over it through the fabric. She never unfolded it anymore - couldn’t bear to. Time had stolen most of the image, leaving only the faintest remnants behind. But his face remained. Always. Smiling down at her blurred form, forever untouched by the years that had worn her down to nothing.

A deep-hooded cloak, midnight blue and heaving with the weight of travel, draped over her shoulders, shielding her from both the elements and prying eyes. Her boots, laced to her knees, were scuffed but strong, having carried her across cobblestones, through forests, over mountains. The only ornament she still wore was the one that mattered most. 

Her wedding ring. 

Cheers and applause rang through the streets, drawing her attention. A crowd had gathered in the square, their voices an excited hum of anticipation. She approached on instinct, weaving through the bodies, catching snippets of conversation. The heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

Then, with a flourish, the massive linen covering the crowded monument was pulled away. 

A statue stood beneath it, towering over the gathered crowd, the figures carved in stone were unfamiliar - strangers cast in heroism. But then her eyes caught a familiar curl, a detail so small yet unmistakable. 

The world shifted. 

Her breath came short, uneven, a trembling exhale past her lips as her hands fumbled for her belt. Her fingers found the parchment, carefully unfolding the delicate edges, barely breathing as she held it up beside the statue. 

Her vision blurred, darting between the image in her hands and the face carved in stone. 

It was him.

“Wow! That image looks great! Where did you get that?:

She jolted, nearly dropping the parchment at the sudden voice. Her head snapped to the side, meeting the keen, amused gaze of a tiefling woman, 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced her voice to work, though it came out broken, trembling. “You…You know this man?”

She clutched the image close to her chest, as if afraid it would be taken from her.

The tiefling grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Who doesn’t? That’s Astarion!”

A sob tore from her throat before she could stop it. 

The tiefling’s expression shifted from amusement to alarm as she stumbled back slightly, uncertain how to react. Awkwardly, she patted her shoulder, offering hesitant comfort. 

But nothing else mattered. 

It was him

It was Astarion. 

“Doesn’t this whole ordeal seem rather…unnecessary?”

Astarion’s voice dripped with amused skepticism as he stood beside her in the grand wedding hall, his arms loosely at his side. His wife-to-be arched a brow, tilting her head to look up at him, arms crossed over the intricate bodice of her gown. 

“Are you telling me that wanting a painting of this moment is pointless?”

Astarion blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His lips parted, the sharp edges of his teeth flashing as he realized his misstep. 

“No!” The word shot out of him in haste. “I just don’t see the appeal. Why capture us in paint when you can gaze upon my magnificence whenever you please?”

He puffed his chest with theatrical pride, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 

She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she playfully smacked his chest. “I want a painting to remember this day, Astarion. It’s not as though I can wear a gown like this every day.”

His gaze flickered to the silent painter, whose brush moved in steady strokes across parchment, capturing their every detail. Then, inevitably, his eyes found her again. 

She was radiant. 

The gown she wore was a masterpiece of moonlight and devotion, woven from dreams and stitched with quiet reverence. Soft ivory fabric rippled with her every movement, delicate yet unyielding - much like the woman who wore it. Silver embroidery curled along the bodice like ivy climbing an ancient trellis, glimmering under the light, a quiet tribute to the stars beneath which they had once whispered their vows. 

The sheer sleeves draped over her arms like mist rolling over the sea, tapering into fitted cuffs embroidered with ancient runes of love and protection. The skirt cascaded around her in layered waves, each panel split to allow freedom - because she was never one to be caged, not even by tradition. And beneath it all, the faintest glimpse of deep red silk peeked through every step, a secret only the wind and her beloved would see. 

Astarion’s arms slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. She turned easily in his hold, gazing up at him with an expectant look - waiting for him to redeem himself. 

His fingers trailed along the line of her spine, his voice lowering to a teasing murmur. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you wearing this every day?”

She hummed in mock consideration, her hands smoothing over his shoulders, tracing the fine fabric of his own wedding attire. “Really? And would you wear this every day?”

His coat was a study in elegance, the deep midnight hie reminiscent of a sky on the cusp of twilight. Tailored to perfection, it framed him effortlessly, the silver embroidery tracing the high collar and cuffs like constellations mapping the heavens. It was a quiet nod to the night he had first whispered his love to her beneath the stars. Beneath the coat, a dark crimson waistcoat clung to his form, the color rich yet subtle - like aged wine, like the bloom of roses, like the depth of passion he could never quite put into words. His trousers, dark as shadow, were tucked into polished leather boots, completing the look as man both regal and untamed. 

Astarion looked skyward in feigned contemplation, biting the inside of this cheek. “Even though I do look devastatingly grand,” he admitted, “I suppose it would be a terrible inconvenience for everyday wear.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a ripple of warmth through him. It was music - an immortal melody he would never tire of. 

His grin widened as he pulled her impossibly closer, reveling in the mirth between them, in the love that bound them tighter than any vow ever could.

The painter, silent and steady, allowed himself the barest of smiles as he etched the moment onto parchment - a portrait not of nobility or grandeur, but of devotion, of adoration, of a love that would endure beyond the confines of time.  

She had spent the entire day tearing through the city, asking - no, begging - for someone, anyone to tell her where she could find Astarion. But no one knew. No one even seemed certain where the other so-called heroes of Baldur’s Gate were, or if they still lingered within the city walls. 

Her heart felt heavy as if it were a stone in her chest. There was no way this was a coincidence where a man that looked just like him happened to be the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Questions flooded her mind, swallowing her head whole. Where had he been this whole time? Did he simply just leave her? Why did he never reach out to her? Was he alright? 

With every unanswered question, her heart sank deeper, heavy as a tone lodged in her chest. It couldn’t be coincidence - there was no way. A man who looked exactly like him, standing among the city’s saviors, bearing the name she had whispered a thousand times in her loneliness? It had to be him. It had to be. 

By the time night had fallen, the bustling streets had emptied, lanterns flickering along the roads in a warm glow that did little to ease the cold settling within her. The city, once alive with energy, had quieted, its liveliness slipping into shadows. And she - she felt just as empty. 

She wandered without direction, cursing the gods for filling her with hope only to rip it away once more. 

A harsh breath shuddered through her, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes until she saw stars, willing the rising grief back down her throat. She needed to stop. Needed to find a place to rest. Needed- 

“I had heard a woman was looking for me all day…but to think she was so persistent she’d still be out this late into the night.”

Her entire body went rigid. The voice came from behind her, smooth, familiar, yet laced with something…different. 

Slowly, she turned, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and lips. 

And there he was, standing before him, but it wasn’t him all the same. 

The night clung to him like an old lover, and he had dressed to match its embrace - sharp, elegant, and just dangerous enough to make it thrilling.

His coat, deep as the void between stars, fit his frame as though sculpture for him alone. The high collar framed his jawline, silver embroidery curling along the lapels and cuffs, catching in the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never cared for unnecessary fastenings, and it seemed like he still did not - the coat remained open, revealing a waistcoat of deep crimson silk, rich and smooth as spilled wine. Beneath it, his shirt was a whisper of pale linen, barely fastened at the collar, as though formality had never quite suited him. 

His sleeves were fitted, stopping just as his wrists, where rings of silver and blackened iron gleamed against his pale fingers. His trousers, dark as shadow, moved with him, fluid and effortless, allowing both grace and lethality in equal measure. They tucked neatly into polished leather boots, laced tight to his knees. 

He was still beautiful. Still striking. Still- 

Her gaze dropped to his hands.

She stopped breathing

Among the trinkets and rings, among the trophies of a life she did not know, sat a single band of silver. 

Her wedding ring. The one she had placed on his finger all those years ago. 

She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper against the night.

“Is it you?”

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze, recognition flashing in his eyes. A single, sharp breath left him as he bit down hard on his lips, willing the emotions away. 

She took a step forward, hesitant but unable to stop herself. He was different now - so painfully different. His skin was pale, too pale. His eyes, once warm, were now an unnatural shade of crimson. And at his throat, the scar of two puncture wounds sat like cruel reminders of something stolen..

Yet she kept walking. Closer. Closer, until only a breath separated them, until all she had to do was lift her hand and- 

“You look different,” she murmured, her voice softer than she meant it to be. 

Astarion inhaled sharply. 

He fought the instinct to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and never let go. Fought the urge to grasp onto the one thing that had ever made him feel human. The woman who had saved him time and time again without ever knowing. 

His memories had been fragmented, buried beneath time and centuries of torment. But her - her touch, her voice, her scent, like the first breath of spring - he had never truly forgotten. Not even when everything else had slipped through his fingers like sand.

Yet now, standing before him, she looked…broken. Her clothes were tattered, her body worn with the weight of grief he knew all too well. She had searched for him. For two hundred years, she had searched. 

And what had he done?

He had let her believe he was gone.

Her hand lifted. Slowly, cautiously. He hesitated, uncertain - until, finally, he let her take it. 

The moment her fingers curled around his, she flinched.

His stomach churned.

She hadn’t expected his touch to be so cold. And gods, how that realization twisted something deep inside him.

He wanted to run. Run from his guilt, his sins, the weight of what he had become. But he had promised himself - when he finally killed his tormentor, when he freed himself - that he would stop running. 

Even if it killed him. 

“You eyes are tired,” she murmured, searching his face. “Your frame lighter. Your smile torn.”

A lump formed in his throat. 

He could hear her heartbeat, rapid and uneven, like a caged hummingbird. 

Then came the question. Soft. Fragile. 

“Is it really you, my love?

His breath hitched. His voice - gods, his voice, usually so smooth, so full of confidence - shook as he answered. 

“I am not the man you fell in love with. I am not the man you once adorned. I am not you kind and gentle husband. And I am not the love you knew before.”

He turned away from her. He couldn’t beat to see the pain in her face, the way her hope cracked like glass beneath his words. 

Shame clawed through him. Not just for the past she did not yet know, but for the time he had wasted, for never trying to find her. He had been free for months now, and not once had he tried. Perhaps, deep down, he had feared what he would find. Feared what his absence had done to her. 

A hand touched his cheek, warm against the cold.

His eyes fluttered shut. Instinctively, he leaned into her palm, the way he had so many times before. 

When he opened them again, she was smiling. Soft. Loving. 

Tears brimmed at her lashes.

“I still think you look rather enchanting,” she whispered.

A shaky scoff left him, something akin to a laugh. “As enchanting as a feline?”

She let out a broken laugh of her own, inhaling sharply. “That’s…weird. That’s something only my husband would say.”

He didn’t think. He just moved, pulling her against him, arms tightening as though she might vanish if he let go. 

She sobbed into his chest, body shaking with the force of it. He buried his face in her hair, and for the second time in centuries, he let himself cry willingly. 

She pulled back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, thumbs wiping away his silent tears. 

“I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she swore, her voice trembling. “I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. Please…” she choked on her own breath. “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person. You’ll always be my husband. And gods, Astarion, I have been waiting for so long.”

His lips parted, but no words came. 

So he held her again. 

He had so much to tell her. So much she needed to know.

But for now, he would hold her. 

Because after waiting for two hundred years…

She had finally found him. 

[starpoweredv1b]

You totally gave me an idea for Zayne

Bestfriend!Zayne, who is also Littlebrother!Zayne who has an older sister with a 10 year age difference (28 and 18 for those who need the clarification). Whenever he would come home from school with an A, their mother would simply be like,'Oh, so you're doing what you are supposed to do?' Meanwhile, Big sister was just showering him in praise about how good he is and how smart he is. Big sister was always the one to take him to do things while their mother was busy with her own life, so much so that for a solid chunck of Zayne's life everyone thought Sister was mom and the only thing he could really say was "I wish she was."

It wasn't abnormal for Zayne to crawl into bed with his sister for nightmares, but as he got older, those reasons while still innocent on the outside were much less innocent on the inside. As he matured, he started to only seek out his sisters praise. Warm hugs and her breasts squishing against him were the rewards that drove him to get such high marks in school, and his near 'constant anxiety' led him to sleep more in her room than his own being held against her soft curves was the only thing that could simultaneously stoak and sooth this burning fire inside of him, and she never seemed to mind.

Until one night, she did. "Sorry, Zaynie. You're gonna have to roll over if you want cuddles. I just got some peircing done, and you rolling over on them would hurt a lot." but still, she welcomes him into her blankets and snuggles up to him. It wasn't until later that night when he oh so carefully rolled over and ran his hands over her body, did he figure it out. Pulling the shirt away from her body ever so slightly, he saw them. His big sister had gotten her nipples peirced. His breathing caught, and he came in his pants right then and there.

He would wait an agonizing two weeks before he couldn't anymore. Slipping the shirt down in his sisters sleep, he latched onto one of her breasts. He would swap back and forth, getting her skin slick with saliva, and his pathetic whines were enough to wake her up.

"My poor baby just needs some extra love, doesn't he?"

-🐱

you know what 🐱 anon? you're absolutely right. that man will feasttttt on nipples like. if his future wife is breastfeeding, one boob for the baby and the other is for him LMAO.

but like younger brother!zayne is the type to make sure that your pierced nips heal perfectly so that when you offer to reward him for his latest academic achievement by giving him a titjob, he'll get to rub his pre cum slick tip over the piercing, hissing at the cold metal and whining all cutely. his dick would be so sensitive from the cold pointed stimulation mixed with the warmth of his older sister's tits and mouth on it too.

he's definitely the type to be overstimulated easily especially since he's pent up from studying alot so expect healthy spurts of hot sticky cum all over your face as he apologises like crazy (eventho the sight makes his cock harden all over again). he'll apologise all breathless as his body ruts between your tits again over and over, begging you to let him cum again. if you want to see a pool of cum on your belly, definitely get him to shyly sit on your face 🤷‍♀️

[ilikeyoshi]

people who have liked veggies all/most of ur lives how do u do it. i had to wait until i was pushing 30 for my body to decide "hey uh maybe the stuff that makes body work is a good idea" like. im glad it's HAPPENING but goddamn!

[mokeonn]

pics? pics of poetry for the soul?

Here she is, in all her glory: Bhaal's pinkest disappointment

and a bonus: The original doodle I did on a sticky tab before I decided to make the character

[fidgetspringer]

It's done 🏳️‍⚧️

[rosicheeks]

Sending strength and love and good vibes your way honey. You can do this!

I really really hope you’re right 🤞

[archerstreet]

it's so crazy how internet has brainwashed us into thinking that the secret to perfect skin is buying a fuckton of expensive makeup products and a 15 step makeup routine and not like. eating healthy food drinking water exercising

[lesenbyan]

Tomorrow I will get 100 BTN/MIN on Eve Tomorrow

[crow-caller]

man... I forgot to mention.

you know how lightlark has gods, but has never once named how many gods there are, what they are gods of, how religion works... it just uses the word 'gods' and there's inexplicably an abbey in the first book?

well, in skyshade we finally learn about gods. Not the gods of lightlark, the gods of the otherworld (if they are the same or related concept, it is not stated)

anyway the gods of the otherworld are um.

Sky, dirt, and below.

(The sky is a place. Dirt is an object. Below is a direction. These three fit together as well as Helios, Urn, and Enya as a trio)

Getting a suspicion this book isn't very good

Lightlark3 is somehow. How do I put this. Worse. The prose is really, really bad, and Aster operates on a baseline of having 'pretty bad prose'

Gee, I wonder if writing and releasing skyshade, plus writing her new adult book, plus a new bonus lightlark book and the 4th due next year... might be resulting in even less editing?