#This is actually super fun for me to write for once tho because it's a lot of dialogue AND shifting of symbolism + foreshadowing

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Actually writing a HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU fic with a solid story line because there's too much stuff going on in this goddamn AU and I need to organize it a little!!

[cbeargyu]

ok so, this is based off a game called married in red but i want beomgyu to be the mainlead/bestfriend 😛😛 So basically you got invited to your old uni bestfriend (bgyu) by his fiancee w/o him knowing, and basically beomgyu is shock to find you at his wedding and gets nervous. A little back story for why beomgyu is shocked to see us again, basically beomgyu your one snd only bestfriend betrays you during a surgeon practice and tells the authorities that your the one that killed the patient and not him (girl...) so you then get sent to jail for a few years. OK, PRESENT TIME... You then planned to get revenge on him by killing his fiancee and frame it on beomgyu, telling everyone that he killed them because he heard a rumor that they cheated on him. anyways, that's it. I'm not really sure if you would actually reply to this, but at least i tried

MARRIED IN RED

summary: you return to the life you lost—uninvited to beomgyu’s wedding, dressed in blood-red and driven by revenge. what begins as a seductive game of manipulation ends in murder, deceit, and the destruction of everything he built. you’re not just here to haunt him. you’re here to end him.

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: dark romance, psychological thriller, smut, angst, revenge, murder mystery.

warnings: smut, graphic murder, knife play, manipulation, blood, gaslighting, medical malpractice, false accusations, power imbalance, obsessive behavior, psychological trauma, emotional abuse, toxic dynamics, gore, suggestive content, unhinged reader, death, infidelity, mention of sexual assault (attempted), violence, mental breakdown, imprisonment, explicit language.

wc: 12K

notes: hi anon!! ok so tbh i’m not super into video games normally BUT the one you mentioned??? omg the premise got me sooo hooked 😭 i ended up watching a bunch of lore vids + different endings and literally got obsessed lol. i used a lot of the gameplay as inspo to build the story and added my own lil touches to make it ✨spicier✨. i really hope you enjoy it and that it came out close to what you were picturing!! i had so much fun writing it — definitely stepped out of my comfort zone a bit (even tho i've done yandere/violence themes before, i never went this deep 👀) so thank u sm for the request ily 💌

FLASHBACK: THE BETRAYAL

the room smelled like metal and nerves. antiseptic clung to your skin, the sterile kind that never quite washes off, no matter how hard you scrub. overhead, the surgical lights buzzed faintly, casting halos on everyone’s heads, ironic little crowns of fluorescent glory. you stood there, gloves tight against your hands, mask hiding the shape of your mouth but not the panic rising in your throat. this was supposed to be routine. a practice session. supervised. safe.

but then something went wrong.

you saw it first — the drop in heart rate, the tremble in the patient’s pulse. the resident nurse called out numbers you didn’t want to hear, and beomgyu froze. you remember his hands. how steady they used to be in class, always precise, always admired. but not now. now, they shook. not violently, not enough to notice unless you knew him like you did — like someone who once memorized the cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his thoughts. you saw it in the twitch of his fingers, in the split-second delay when the arterial clamp slipped. the bleeding started then. red spilled into white, too much, too fast. you moved, instinct taking over, reaching for the sutures, trying to stop the flood before it became irreversible. beomgyu didn’t move.

and then he did.

but it was too late. the alarms screamed. the attending ran in. hands pushed yours aside. someone shouted. another called for help. and beomgyu… beomgyu took a step back. just one. just enough.

you didn’t sleep that night. didn’t eat. didn’t breathe without hearing those monitors flatline inside your skull. you thought maybe it would be labeled a mistake, a tragedy, an accident born from youth and pressure. you were wrong.

two days later, they came for you.

you were mid-shift, mopping sweat off your temple, when the white coats and sharp eyes cornered you in the hallway. they didn’t say much. they didn’t have to. someone had already spoken. someone had already placed blame. your name had been written in ink, cold and black, on a report you never saw. beomgyu’s name was nowhere.

when you were questioned, they said beomgyu had expressed “concern” over your technique. they said he “regretted” not speaking up earlier. they said you panicked in the OR. that you tried to take over. that your recklessness had cost a life. they said so many things, all carefully worded, all sharpened with just enough truth to make the lie believable.

you remember sitting in that empty room, steel table in front of you, hands trembling. not from guilt. from rage. from betrayal. from the image of his face on the other side of the glass, watching. silent. expressionless. not even sorry.

he didn’t visit you. not once. not during the trial, not after the verdict, not when they took your license, your dreams, your freedom. he vanished. became a name you couldn’t say without tasting ash.

years passed.

but you remembered.

you remembered how he looked at you right before the doors closed behind you — not with shame, not with pity, but with relief. you remembered that silence like a scalpel against your spine. clean. deep. final.

and you decided.

if he could tear your life apart to save his own, you could do the same. only worse. only slower.

and this time, you’d smile while doing it.

ACT ONE: THE INVITATION

you were in the middle of folding laundry when you found the envelope. cream-colored, thick, the kind of paper that crackles when bent, expensive just to touch. no return address. no hint. but you recognized the handwriting immediately — soft, rounded, a little too careful to be truly effortless. feminine. polite. unfamiliar.

you slid a finger under the seal and pulled the card out. gold lettering, embossed. a wedding. no — his wedding. the name hit your stomach first. choi beomgyu. and beside it, a name you didn’t recognize. yoon hana.

you stared at it for a long time, longer than you'd ever admit. your fingers clenched around the edge, and for a moment you imagined tearing it in half. but you didn’t. not yet.

the call came the next day.

“hi, is this…?” her voice was as pretty as her name sounded. delicate. sweet. almost translucent. “i hope this isn’t too forward, but i’m hana — beomgyu’s fiancée.”

you said nothing for a moment. your breath stilled.

“i found some photos of you two in his old albums,” she continued quickly, nervous, like she thought you might hang up. “college days. i had no idea you were so close. he… he never mentioned you.”

of course he didn’t.

“i wanted to surprise him. you were his best friend, right? i think it would mean so much to him if you came to the wedding. it’s not the same without people who really know you.”

you let out a breath — not a laugh, not quite — more like a quiet exhale of something heavy, bitter, ancient.

“he’ll be very surprised,” you said, voice steady, lips curling into a smile she couldn’t see.

“that’s what i’m hoping,” hana said, laughing softly, innocently, like a girl who had no idea she was dangling over a pit. “please say you’ll come.”

and you did.

not because of her kindness. not because of the sweetness in her voice, or the elegance in her words. but because you could already feel the pulse of something deep and dark moving beneath your skin. it had waited years for this — coiled and patient, like a snake in the grass. beomgyu had buried you once.

this time, you’d return the favor.

you spent the next few days preparing. not obsessively — not in the way you used to when exams loomed and futures were built on how steady your hands could be. this was different. calm. surgical. everything folded into neat little thoughts. what you’d wear. what you’d say. the tilt of your head when he saw you. the exact moment his perfect little world would begin to shake.

you imagined the way his eyes would widen, the hitch in his throat, the cold wash of memory creeping up his spine. he wouldn’t scream. no, he’d smile. he’d pretend. because beomgyu always wore his mask better than anyone — the gentle prodigy, the golden boy, the fallen angel with soft hands and a halo of innocence. no one ever saw what he really was underneath. but you did.

you always did.

you touched the edge of the wedding card again, ran your thumb across the gold print. not out of sentiment, but calculation. it was almost poetic. the beginning of the end would be wrapped in white and flowers and promises neither of them deserved.

he thought he could bury you in silence. in time. in absence.

but the past always shows up — dressed in red, smiling sweetly.

ACT TWO: THE REUNION

you arrive early, but no one notices.

it’s the kind of venue that whispers wealth from every corner — marble floors that gleam like water, tall windows draped in soft linen, crystal chandeliers heavy with light. a string quartet plays something romantic and forgettable in the background. waiters float by with champagne flutes, their hands practiced and empty-eyed. everything is too clean. too white. a blank canvas begging to be stained.

you stand near the edge of it all, watching. not hiding — just waiting.

then you see her.

hana.

she moves through the crowd with soft hands and a practiced smile, like she’s been trained her whole life to be looked at. beautiful, delicate, a doll dressed in ivory and pearls. but her eyes are kind. too kind. she spots you almost instantly and lights up.

“you came!” she says, breathless, rushing forward to embrace you like you’re old friends. you let her. her perfume is light and floral, almost childish. she pulls back to look at you, smiling. “he’s going to be so surprised. i didn’t tell him. i wanted to see his face.”

you nod once, lips curling upward. “i can’t wait.”

she doesn’t hear it — the venom under the silk. she sees only what he once saw: a calm surface. nothing underneath.

they call everyone to attention soon after. the ceremony is about to begin. you take your place among the crowd, quiet, unmoving. your hands rest in your lap, still, like in the operating room — composed. patient. ready to cut.

the music swells.

then he walks in.

beomgyu.

the groom.

your breath doesn’t catch — it sharpens. like a blade meeting stone. his suit is ivory, his tie pale gold. his hair is soft, curled just enough to look effortless. he smiles as he walks, bowing slightly to a few guests, charming and angelic, the boy wonder all grown up.

then his eyes find you.

he stops.

just one second. a stutter in time. a heartbeat dropped.

he blinks, once. then again.

the world keeps moving, but he doesn’t. his face doesn’t change, not fully, but you see the fracture — the faintest flicker behind his eyes. recognition. fear. memory clawing its way up his throat.

you tilt your head slightly. not a wave. not a nod. just enough.

he walks again, faster now, as if motion can erase you.

but you know better. you always did.

the ceremony proceeds like a play. vows exchanged, rings slipped onto fingers. hana glows beside him, her smile radiant and pure. and beomgyu… beomgyu plays his role with perfect grace. every look, every touch, every whispered promise is choreographed. from a distance, they’re flawless.

but you know the truth.

he doesn’t love her.

you learned that before the wedding, in whispers and reports, in quiet murmurs from mutual acquaintances. yoon hana, daughter of dr. yoon — the man who owns half the hospitals in seoul. a legacy family. power, influence, prestige. marrying her isn’t romance. it’s strategy.

he wants her name. her wealth. her father’s empire.

and once he has it, once he’s tied deep enough into that network of hospitals and private clinics, she won’t matter. she’ll become another discarded tool. maybe she already is.

you wonder if she knows. you wonder if she suspects. or if she’s just like you once were — enchanted by his gentle voice, his soft laughter, his hands that never shake until they do.

they walk back down the aisle, hand in hand, applause washing over them. but his eyes flick toward you again. not long. not obvious. just enough to remind you — he knows.

you slip away during the reception. not far. just to the back hallway where the staff come and go. it’s quiet there. cooler. your heels echo softly on tile.

you don’t wait long before you hear footsteps behind you.

“what are you doing here?”

his voice is low. careful. not angry. not yet.

you turn around slowly.

he’s already dropped the act.

the mask is still on, but you can see the cracks in the porcelain — the too-still eyes, the slight tension in his jaw, the twitch of a muscle near his brow. beomgyu stands in front of you like a man facing a ghost he thought he'd buried deep.

“your wife invited me,” you say simply. “she thought it would make you happy.”

he laughs. just once. bitter. sharp. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“why?” you ask, stepping closer. “because it ruins the fairytale?”

his silence is answer enough.

you study him — the expensive watch on his wrist, the perfect posture, the way his wedding band already looks foreign on his hand. he’s beautiful. always was. but it’s a cursed kind of beauty now, the kind that hides poison beneath petals.

“congratulations,” you say, letting your voice drip just enough to make him flinch. “must be nice, marrying into a dynasty. hospitals. connections. endless funding.”

“you don’t know anything,” he snaps, too fast.

you smile. “i know everything.”

he steps forward, suddenly closer than you expected. “what do you want?”

the question isn’t a plea. it’s a warning.

you reach up and adjust the lapel of his jacket, slow, intimate, mockingly gentle.

“i haven’t decided yet.”

his breath catches for just a second.

you both know what’s happening. it’s already begun. the dance. the descent. two people standing in the wreckage of a friendship, building something twisted from its remains.

because the truth is, you and beomgyu are not so different.

he ruined someone for power.

you came back to ruin him.

and hana? she’s not the love between you. she’s the blade you’re both gripping from opposite ends.

ACT THREE: THE BRIDE

you find her near the garden, tucked in the back where soft lights string between trees like artificial stars. hana is laughing with one of her bridesmaids, hands clasped around a champagne flute, veil tucked back behind her shoulders. she looks like a dream — fragile, glowing, floating in a bubble she believes is happiness. but dreams burst easily.

she sees you and waves. “there you are! i was wondering where you disappeared to.”

“just needed air,” you say smoothly, stepping beside her. “everything’s beautiful, hana.”

her smile grows. “thank you. i wanted it to feel… perfect.”

you both look around. and it is perfect. the venue is opulence carved into architecture — carved archways, marble fountains, flower arrangements taller than people. every inch glows with money. not taste. wealth.

“how did you two meet, anyway?” you ask, tone light, harmless. curious.

hana sips her drink, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. “mutual friends. well, not really friends — one of my father’s doctors. he introduced us at a benefit.”

of course.

you nod, letting the silence stretch just enough before asking, “and… did you fall in love right away?”

she laughs. a real one. “oh no. he barely spoke at first. but once we started talking… it was easy. he listens. he’s kind.”

you hum softly. “he used to be quieter. i think the years made him louder.”

hana tilts her head. “you really knew him that well?”

“better than most,” you reply, a quiet truth soaked in something heavier.

her eyes glimmer with curiosity. “he never told me about you.”

you smile. “he wouldn’t.”

you don’t let the pause linger. you slip your arm through hers gently and steer her toward the inner hall — not the main ballroom, but a side corridor filled with portraits and silence. your voice lowers just a bit.

“this place is… extravagant,” you say, fingers brushing the polished wall. “how did you manage to book it? i heard it’s almost impossible.”

hana beams. “oh — it was a favor. one of my dad’s oldest friends owns the property. it’s usually reserved for very exclusive events — politicians, ceos, you know.”

you arch a brow, feigning awe. “must’ve taken strings to pull that off.”

“not really,” she says. “he offered it as a gift. it’s the kind of place where everyone already knows everyone. it feels safe, like… like no one’s watching. just happy people, no noise.”

you stop walking.

“no cameras?”

she shakes her head with a small smile. “none. my dad doesn’t like them. he says they ruin intimacy.”

you let the words settle. no cameras. no recordings. no proof. no eyes. just soft walls and trust.

hana sees none of the weight behind your silence. she keeps smiling, sipping from her glass.

“besides,” she adds, “what’s there to see? it’s a wedding. everyone’s happy.”

you look at her then, really look — at the soft curve of her cheek, the gentle eyes, the way she sees this world as clean, unshaken. she thinks love built this. but it was ambition. strategy. you know the taste of it because you once wanted the same things — and maybe, deep down, you still do.

“you must trust him a lot,” you say quietly.

“i do,” she replies without hesitation. “he’s everything i ever wanted. he saved me from this cold, business world. my father wanted me to marry a man with power — i found one with heart.”

you almost choke.

but instead, you laugh, soft and low. not mocking. almost affectionate.

“then i hope you’re right,” you whisper. “and i hope he never gives you a reason to doubt that.”

hana looks up at you, touched. “you’re so sweet. i’m glad you’re here.”

you lean in, kiss her cheek, and breathe her in — that perfume, light and harmless. the kind of scent you could forget.

but you won’t.

because now you know the hallways. the exits. the blind spots. and now, hana trusts you.

and beomgyu?

he knows you’re close.

you can already feel the tension pulling tighter — like piano wire strung between three necks. someone will bleed.

you’re just deciding who goes first.

ACT FOUR: THE SERPENT IN RED

you find him just past the marble corridor, outside, where the laughter and clinking glasses can’t follow.

he’s standing by the edge of the balcony, fists clenched, jaw tight, like he’s holding the world together by sheer force of will. the night air swirls around him, but he’s too tense to feel it. beomgyu looks like a man cornered by ghosts — one in particular.

his eyes snap to you the moment he senses your presence.

and you see it.

not just surprise. not just discomfort.

fear. hatred. panic. all bleeding together in those pretty eyes.

he looks like he might be sick.

you step into the moonlight, slow and deliberate, the crimson fabric of your dress catching the light like liquid sin. the color hugs you — dark, seductive, unapologetic. and he sees it. god, he sees it.

his expression twists instantly.

“what the fuck are you wearing?” he spits.

you tilt your head, smiling sweetly. “a dress.”

his gaze sharpens, voice lowered. “that’s not a dress for a wedding.”

you glance down at yourself, brushing invisible dust from your hip, tone soft and cruel. “why not? i think it suits the occasion.”

“it’s red,” he growls. “blood red.”

you hum. “hm. so it is.”

he takes a step forward. “take it off.”

you laugh. sharp. amused. “aw, gyu. if you wanted to see me out of it, all you had to do was ask.”

he flinches at the nickname. his hands curl at his sides.

“this isn’t a fucking game,” he hisses. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“oh, but i was invited,” you remind him, voice dipped in honey. “your lovely bride said she wanted to surprise you.”

his nostrils flare. “she doesn’t know what you are.”

you lean in, just enough for him to smell your perfume — dark florals, velvet musk, danger. “no,” you whisper. “but you do.”

he doesn’t answer right away. his eyes drag over you — slow, reluctant, like he hates what he sees but can’t stop seeing it. there's something sour behind his gaze, something like... regret? no. it's older than that. something between rage and fascination.

“i didn’t think you’d get out so soon,” he says eventually. “they said five years minimum. good behavior, huh?”

you tilt your head. “what can i say? prison taught me discipline.”

his jaw tightens. his fingers curl slightly around the glass.

beomgyu stiffens. his eyes dart toward the ballroom doors and back to you, like he’s counting the seconds before someone else joins, or worse, sees you both like this.

you take another step, your heels echoing softly against the marble. he doesn’t move.

“what’s the matter?” you ask, gaze locked on his. “nervous?”

his mouth twists, but his jaw— god, it clenches so hard you can almost hear it pop.

you glance down at his hands, tense and trembling slightly. “you always did get shaky when things got out of your control.”

“don’t push me,” he warns, low and shaking.

you ignore the threat. “it’s funny,” you murmur. “you wear the same expression you did in the O.R. that day. remember that? the moment everything went wrong and you had to choose— your future or mine.”

he breathes in sharply.

you smile wider. “you chose well. now you’re marrying a woman with power. hospitals. status. all the things you’ve always wanted but could never earn. and she’s just so sweet too. so trusting. so willing to give you everything.”

beomgyu doesn’t speak. his silence is louder than shouting.

“tell me, gyu…” you lean closer, lips almost brushing his ear. “do you plan to kill her like you did the patient? once you get your name on the deed?”

his breath catches, sharp and violent. and for a terrifying second, you think he might hit you.

he lunges forward — fast, teeth gritted, eyes wild with fury. his hand lifts slightly, but it stops halfway. frozen.

his face is inches from yours now.

his breath hot, furious, desperate.

your lips curve, soft and mocking. “god, i missed this,” you whisper, letting the tip of your finger trace the lapel of his suit. “your warmth. your anger. the way your body shakes when i get under your skin.”

he snarls quietly. “you’re insane.”

“maybe.” your eyes shine, unblinking. “but at least i’m not a coward.”

you let the silence stretch, the air between you charged like a live wire. you feel the storm in him, the battle behind his eyes. part of him wants to end this — grab you, break you, erase you. but another part… the part you remember… wants to taste this. wants to feel something. anything.

you lean in, your breath ghosting across his mouth, and say it, clear and cold:

“you don’t love her. you love what she has. and you want to take it all.”

his shoulders tighten. his lips part, but no sound comes out.

“that’s why you hate me,” you continue. “because i see you. the real you. and you know exactly what i came here to do.”

his hand jerks slightly — like he might finally snap — but just as fast, he freezes. a voice laughs nearby. footsteps. guests.

he blinks, breath shaky. control returns like a choke chain.

he steps back, eyes burning, chest heaving. “get out of my fucking wedding.”

you smile, slow and venomous. “make me.”

and then you turn your back to him, deliberately, daringly, walking back into the warmth of the celebration with his fury at your heels. the red of your dress flares like a warning — or a promise.

and beomgyu stays frozen behind you.

because he knows:

you’re not done.

and this game is just beginning.

the moment you turn your back to him, you know it’s not over. not by a long shot. the air between you both is thick, taut with something unsaid, something alive, crawling under your skin. you can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole in your back. his breath shallow, labored, like every inhale is a war he’s losing.

you hear his footsteps behind you — slower, cautious, but still there. he’s following you.

you smile to yourself, letting the sound of his pursuit draw you closer to the door. it’s all so predictable, all so easy. the rage, the fear, the denial — it’s exactly what you knew would happen. beomgyu doesn’t want to admit it. doesn’t want to admit how much he needs to be near you. not after everything. but his body betrays him.

just before you turned to walk away, something caught your eye — a flash of silver in beomgyu’s hand. you watched, silent, as he pulled a small key from his pocket and slipped it into the door of a room tucked away behind one of the elegant hallways. he glanced over his shoulder, cautious, before pushing it open and stepping inside. you didn’t follow immediately, but your mind registered it. a key. not just any room — a private one. the kind you’d return to later, when the world wasn’t watching.

you don’t look back. not yet.

inside, the room is empty except for the small details of a wedding — bouquets, mirrors, chairs — but it feels like the eye of the storm, calm before the inevitable. you step inside, your heel clicking against the cold floor, and you feel him follow.

his presence is heavy, but you make no move to acknowledge it. not yet.

you stand in the middle of the room, your back to him, and let the silence stretch for just long enough to make it unbearable.

and then, as if on cue, you hear the door close softly behind you.

his voice comes low and strained. “you’re pushing your luck.”

you don’t answer at first. instead, you let your hand graze over the table, the reflection of your own eyes in the mirror catching you off guard for a moment. his presence is so close now. you can feel the heat of his body like a shadow. you’ve always known how to make him lose control. and tonight, it's too easy.

finally, you turn to him, a slow, deliberate motion, your eyes catching his in the reflection. you don’t need to see his face to know what’s there. it’s all in the tension of his jaw, the way he stands — tense, but drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“you know,” you say softly, your voice slipping into that dark, alluring tone, “there’s something about being close to you again.”

his fists clench. his voice trembles, barely contained. “shut up.”

you step closer, just enough to make him shift, but not enough to let him break that thin thread of restraint. “why? don’t you like it, gyu?” you whisper, barely audible. “don’t you miss the way we used to be?”

he takes a deep breath, his lips trembling with a fight he’s losing. “i told you… get the fuck out.”

but his body betrays him. you see it in the way his eyes flicker down to your lips. the way his breath hitches when you take that last step toward him, close enough for your chest to brush against his. his eyes lock with yours in a mix of fury and something darker.

you smile, sweet and dangerous. “you can’t walk away from me. not now. not after everything.”

he presses his lips together, his entire body tensing, as if he’s holding back something primal. then, his hand grabs your wrist — not rough, but tight, possessive. like a warning. and yet…

he doesn’t pull you away.

you let him hold you there, the tension so thick between you that it feels suffocating. and then, you tilt your head up slowly, just enough for your lips to brush his ear as you whisper:

“you hate me, don’t you?”

he doesn’t respond, but you can feel it. his pulse against your wrist, the rapid beating of his heart, the heat radiating off his skin.

“you hate that I’m still here, still alive,” you continue, your voice a soft, slow poison. “you hate that I’m in your fucking head.”

he squeezes your wrist harder, like he wants to crush the words, crush the thoughts swirling in his mind. “get away from me.”

you smirk, finally stepping away just enough to look at him directly. “but you still want me, don’t you? that’s why you’re standing here. still watching me. pretending you’re not imagining everything we could’ve done.”

his breath hitches.

you let the space between you grow — just enough for him to feel the distance. but you can see the truth in his eyes now. he’s unraveling. he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want this, that he doesn’t need this, but his body gives him away.

he takes a step toward you, closing the space, and for a moment, you wonder if this is the moment he’ll finally break. but instead, he lowers his voice to a dangerous growl:

“you really think you can get away with this?”

you step forward, your body nearly touching his, and you whisper it low, with enough heat to make the words burn:

“i’m going to take everything from you. everything you care about. and you won’t stop me.”

and just as you say it, he crashes into you — not with force, but with a desperate, controlled need. his lips meet yours in a kiss that isn’t gentle. it’s angry. it’s hungry. it’s raw.

you kiss him back, letting him take the lead for a moment, tasting the rage, the longing, the betrayal. it’s not love. it’s not passion. it’s something else. something darker.

he pulls away just as quickly as he came, breath shallow. his pupils are blown, wild with something that might have been a confession.

but neither of you says a word.

you stand there, close enough to feel the heat of him, and you know this game is far from over.

he won’t walk away. not yet. not when the fire’s already lit.

his lips crush against yours again — this time harder, more brutal, like he’s trying to punish you with his mouth, trying to erase everything you’ve said, everything you’ve ever done. his hands dig into your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the sharp line of his control snap between your teeth.

you moan into his mouth, a dark, breathy sound that makes his grip tighten.

he hates this. he hates that he’s kissing you. hates that he wants it so fucking bad. but his tongue parts your lips like a man starved, tasting every inch of what he’s craved in silence for years.

you drag your nails down his back, slow and deliberate, and feel him shudder.

“you’re disgusting,” he mutters against your lips, voice hoarse, trembling. “so are you,” you breathe back, licking into his mouth like sin itself. “but at least i admit it.”

his hands are on your thighs now, hiking up your dress — and you let him. you don’t stop him when he pushes you back against the vanity, knocking over flowers and makeup, wedding details crashing to the floor like a funeral bell.

his lips move down your jaw, your throat, biting a path like he’s branding you. “you shouldn’t be here,” he growls into your skin. “then stop me,” you whisper, breathless, eyes daring. “go on. push me away.”

he doesn’t.

he pushes your dress up further, bunching the fabric at your hips, exposing the soft skin of your thighs. his fingers tremble as they move to your panties, his breath hot against your neck.

“fuck,” he hisses when he finds you already wet. “you’re so—”

“say it,” you pant, threading your fingers into his hair and yanking. “say it.”

he bites your shoulder. hard. a bruise blooms there instantly.

“wet for me,” he spits. “still. after everything.”

you laugh, low and wicked. “maybe i never stopped.”

he yanks your panties aside and sinks two fingers inside you without warning, and you arch into him, crying out — not from pain, but from the sudden, obscene stretch of it. your body clenches around him like it remembers him, like it always belonged to him even when he didn’t deserve it.

his other hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye. “tell me you don’t want this.”

you smile with your lips parted, a mess of heat and venom. “i want everything you’ll regret.”

he curses, low and filthy, before replacing his fingers with his cock — thick, hot, angry — slamming into you in one brutal thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your back hits the mirror, and it rattles with the force of him.

“fuck—” you gasp, holding onto the edge of the vanity for balance.

“so fucking tight,” he growls against your ear, thrusting hard, fast, punishing. “you came here for revenge, huh? to ruin me?”

“i am ruining you,” you moan, legs wrapping around his waist, digging your heels into his back. “you’re already fucking mine.”

he slams into you again, harder — like he wants to shut you up. but it only makes you scream louder.

each thrust is rougher than the last. your bodies slap together, heat and sweat and fury. this isn’t love. this isn’t tenderness. this is war. this is two people trying to burn the other alive and moaning into the fire.

he grips your hips and fucks into you with something close to desperation, as if he’s trying to forget, to rewrite history with every thrust. but you won’t let him. you claw at his skin, mark him, own him.

“gonna come,” he pants against your throat.

you squeeze around him, smile laced with malice and lust. “then do it. come inside me. like a good little liar.”

he bites your lip, snarling — and with one final thrust, he breaks, spilling into you with a guttural moan that echoes off the walls. you hold him there, feeling him twitch inside you, feeling him fall apart in your hands.

you come moments later, shaking around him, gasping his name like a curse and a prayer all at once.

he doesn’t move right away.

just stays there, inside you, breathing hard, forehead pressed against yours.

and for a second, the room is quiet again.

but then you speak, voice low, dangerous.

“you’ll regret this.”

he opens his eyes. they’re glassy. red-rimmed. terrified.

“i already do,” he whispers.

ACT FIVE: THE MURDER

you stumble out of the room, legs trembling, lips still tingling with the taste of him — hatred, lust, regret. all tangled in one bite. behind you, beomgyu breathes hard, still trying to compose himself, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see him pull that same silver key from his pocket and quietly lock the door behind him. neat. clean. calculated. he doesn't want anyone discovering what just happened between you two.

perfect, you think. even better.

but this story isn’t done — not yet. you’ve got the tension. the sweat. the kiss of his guilt on your tongue.

now you need blood.

the reception is loud again. music swells, laughter floats, and the soft sound of champagne flutes clinking fills the air like wedding bells. but none of it touches you. not as you wander past the kitchen doorway, not as you see that towering wedding cake in the distance — pristine, elegant, the kind of perfection they probably spent hours agonizing over.

and there, beside it.

a knife. long. sharp. glinting with the reflection of white icing and overhead chandeliers. you stare at it. still. calculating. nobody notices you. not the chef, not the staff — you're just another woman in a blood-red dress at a wedding.

you smile sweetly, take the knife, and in a single smooth motion, slide it up under your gown and tuck it beneath the band of your garter.

your thighs press together. it holds.

you breathe.

and walk back into the storm.

hana spots you before you even reach her. she waves, face glowing with delight, but that joy falters when she sees your expression. a calculated melancholy lingers on your features — just enough to look real, just enough to pull at her concern.

“y/n?” she says, approaching quickly, her hands gentle as they cup your forearm. “what’s wrong? did something happen?”

you let your lips tremble. just slightly. “i don’t think… beomgyu was happy to see me.”

her eyes widen, immediately protective. “no! no, no, don’t say that. he’s just… surprised. you two were so close in uni, weren’t you? he’s probably overwhelmed. you know how emotional he gets.”

you almost laugh. emotional. sure.

“i don’t know,” you whisper, looking down, twisting the ring on your finger — a fake one you wore to sell the illusion. “maybe i shouldn’t have come. i feel like i’m intruding. like… like i brought something bad with me.”

hana squeezes your hand, eyes soft with worry. “don’t be silly. i’m so happy you came. really. and i know he is too — he just doesn't show it well.”

you sniff dramatically. “do you think we could talk somewhere more private?”

she hesitates, then nods with a smile. “of course. there’s a room upstairs — where beomgyu and i get ready. it’s just ours.” she reaches into her clutch, pulling out a familiar glint of silver. the same key. “we’re the only ones with access.”

your heart skips.

jackpot.

“come,” she says sweetly, linking arms with you. “you’ll feel better after some quiet.”

you let her lead.

the room is silent. untouched. dimly lit by golden sconces. a soft scent of rosewater lingers in the air. and once the door clicks shut behind you, hana turns to you again, ready to offer another excuse on beomgyu’s behalf.

“i’m really sorry if he came off cold,” she says. “he’s been so stressed with the planning, and—”

“or maybe,” you interrupt, stepping closer, letting your voice thicken with suggestion, “he’s upset about something from the past.”

she pauses, confused. “what do you mean?”

you sit on the armrest of the lounge chair, looking at her with mock softness. “we haven’t seen each other since university, hana. back then, i was quiet. focused on med school. no friends, no distractions. just books and labs.”

she nods, leaning in, intrigued.

“and then he found me,” you continue, voice dreamy now, almost nostalgic. “he was charming. open. wild. he showed me that life wasn’t just about excellence. that it could be messy… chaotic. thrilling. he wasn't the best student, but he had this… charisma. everyone loved him.”

hana smiles. “that sounds like him.”

“he’d invite me to join him on hospital rounds,” you add, “especially when staff was low. we’d cover shifts together. just the two of us. late nights. adrenaline. it was like a bond. a secret, you know?”

she nods slowly.

“did you two ever…?” she asks cautiously.

you shake your head. “not like that. but we were close. inseparable. until something happened. something he doesn’t want you to know.”

“what happened?” hana whispers, eyes wide with unease, hands clutching her dress like it could protect her from what’s coming.

you step closer.

not threateningly.

no — softly. gently. like a friend about to tell a secret.

“beomgyu and i,” you begin, voice low, “were more than just classmates. we were inseparable back then — best friends, maybe the only ones we had. we were in the same program, same surgical rotations. but he… he wasn’t always careful. not like me.”

hana blinks, nervous now. but listening.

“it was a simple procedure. nothing risky. barely a challenge,” you continue, your eyes flicking to the soft gleam of the knife beneath your gown, still hidden. “but he messed up. badly. i warned him to slow down, double-check the vitals. but he thought he could handle it.”

you pause. the room is dead silent except for your voice.

“he cut too deep. ruptured something. blood started pouring out, and he panicked. dropped his instruments. froze. he looked at me like a scared child — ‘help me,’ he begged. and i did. of course i did.”

you smile, bitterly. hana doesn't speak.

“i tried to stop the bleeding. i gave everything. my hands, my mind, my training. but it was too late. by the time the others came, the patient was gone. and i was drenched in red. completely soaked.”

you can still feel it — the warmth of it. the shock. the chaos.

“his mother came in. screaming. crying. she saw me first — covered in her son’s blood. beomgyu said nothing. then, like a coward, he pointed at me and said i made the mistake. that i’d panicked. that i killed him.”

hana steps back slightly, a hand over her mouth. “no…”

“the staff believed him. he had no blood on him, just a mask of grief. and i was… in shock. couldn’t even defend myself. they expelled me from the program, and then the charges came. criminal negligence. i spent years in prison, hana. years.”

you tilt your head, gaze sharpening.

“do you know what that does to someone? being caged for something you didn’t do? he ended my future. my life. all to protect his own reputation.”

hana opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

you smile.

“and today, he’ll pay for it.”

and that’s when you move.

one second you’re smiling — the next, the knife is in your hand, slicing the air.

a gasp.

a soft sound, wet and gurgling. blood blooms across her throat like a twisted rose. her hands fly up, but it’s useless. her body crumbles to the carpet, her eyes wide and unblinking.

you kneel beside her, breathing steady.

“it was never about love,” you whisper in her ear. “he only loved what you could give him. and now it’s mine.”

ACT SIX: THE EVIDENCE

the room still reeked of perfume, lilies, and now — blood. thick and metallic, it hung in the air like a cruel fog. her body lay awkwardly against the plush carpet, blood seeping in slow, lazy tendrils from the wound in her neck. hana’s expression was stuck somewhere between shock and confusion, as if her soul hadn’t quite caught up with her body in death. her hands were slightly raised, instinctively defensive, but there was no one left to plead with. not anymore. not after what had been set in motion years ago.

you stood over her in silence for a moment, letting the weight of it settle into your bones — not guilt, but satisfaction. cold and heavy and deliberate. this wasn’t chaos. it was choreography.

with clinical precision, you leaned down, your gloves still in place, your breathing steady. slipping your hand into the folds of her bridal gown, you found the small silver key she’d shown you earlier — the one she had said only she and beomgyu shared. perfect. you took it and tucked it away into your own bodice, but not before retrieving the knife, still warm, still wet, and carefully returning it to its hiding place beneath your garter. the steel met your skin briefly before disappearing back into the safety of lace and silk.

you weren’t finished.

you moved quickly now, not rushed, just efficient. hana’s lifeless form was heavier than you expected, but you managed to drag her toward the grand antique wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. with effort, you arranged her inside, folding her gently as if she were porcelain. her arms fell to her sides like forgotten ribbon. from your bag, you pulled out a slim, black silk tie — beomgyu’s. you tied it around the wardrobe handles, tight and exact, the knot crisp. when someone found her, they’d see that tie and wonder. they’d question.

still wearing your gloves, you crouched again, inspecting the floor. blood had begun to dry at the edges, but it wasn’t too late. from your oversized purse, you pulled a small cloth and a diluted cleanser. you wiped every trace, every drop, every footprint. when the floor gleamed again — soulless and clean — you exhaled, but not in relief. this wasn’t over.

you walked to the mirror, peeled the gloves off with a slow, meticulous grace, and washed your hands in the basin nearby. the water ran pink, then clear. you changed next — stripping out of your blood-smeared gown and slipping into an identical one, pristine and untouched, as if nothing had happened at all. the contrast was jarring, beautiful even. you folded the ruined dress neatly and stuffed it back into the depths of your bag.

your escape wasn’t through the door. instead, you approached the tall window, unlatched it quietly, and climbed out with the elegance of someone rehearsed. the soft thud of your shoes on the grass below didn’t draw a single eye — the courtyard was mercifully empty.

and then, fate handed you one final gift: the dog.

a large, well-fed retriever — probably belonging to the venue’s owner — padded across the lawn near the back entrance. its tail wagged, oblivious. with a quick gesture, you undid its leash and nudged it gently in the direction of the banquet hall. you didn’t need to say anything. the second it caught scent of sugar and buttercream, it bolted.

from a distance, you watched the chaos unfold.

the animal barreled into the hall, diving toward the extravagant white wedding cake at the center. shrieks rang out from the staff, followed by gasps from the guests as the massive dog leapt, knocking plates and champagne flutes in every direction. the distraction was beautiful. orchestrated. all eyes turned, all bodies rushed forward.

you slipped back inside, unnoticed, and made your way to the small parlor by the fireplace. the chimenea crackled with welcoming heat. pulling the blood-soaked dress from your bag, you tossed it into the flames and watched as it curled and blackened, then disappeared. no ash, no trace. nothing left but a faint scent of smoke and finality.

when you stepped out again, you were just another guest, a woman in red, blending back into the celebration.

a ghost with blood on her hands and no soul left to haunt.

ACT SEVEN: THE ALIBI

you adjusted your dress — perfect, pristine, untouched — and found yourself drifting through the hum of music and small talk that buzzed under the glittering chandeliers. the ballroom seemed to pulse with distraction. no one had noticed the weight that had disappeared from the upstairs room. not yet.

your eyes landed on him — the father of the bride. chairman yoon. tall, composed, his tailored suit stretching across a chest built by pride and decades of success. the man was practically royalty in the medical world, owner of several hospitals across seoul. you approached him with the softness of silk and the poise of someone who belonged.

"mr. yoon," you began with a smile as polished as glass, "your daughter... she looked beautiful today. truly radiant."

his chest puffed with the pride of a man who had provided everything for his only child. he nodded solemnly, his glass of champagne catching the light as he raised it slightly in a silent toast to his own bloodline.

"and beomgyu," you continued, your voice low, reverent, like a hymn. "he's... incredible. passionate. dedicated. you know, not every man would love so deeply, so completely. he’d go to the ends of the earth for hana."

his eyes twitched with something unreadable, maybe curiosity, maybe relief. you pressed on.

"i think you'd be proud to know she chose a man who sees her as more than just a wife — he sees her as his purpose. his reason. i’ve known beomgyu for years, and... he’s always been like that. full of heart. always willing to sacrifice himself for someone he loves. it’s rare to find someone that good anymore. especially in our field."

you watched the old man’s face soften, a flicker of sentiment warming his otherwise calculating expression. you kept it going, slowly painting beomgyu as the martyr, the hopeless romantic, the picture of the devoted son-in-law. no one would ever suspect a thing if the story was sculpted just right — and your hands were already elbow-deep in the clay.

but then... your ears twitched.

a burst of laughter from across the room caught your attention — the kind of giggle that tried too hard to be subtle. you turned your head and caught sight of hana’s bridesmaids, huddled close together like schoolgirls sharing a forbidden secret. their eyes sparkled with the thrill of gossip. you drifted closer, steps measured, heartbeat steady. their voices dropped a little when they saw you, but it was too late — you had already heard the name.

"soobin."

one of them whispered it again, as if afraid the very word might catch fire. and then, another voice, hushed and breathless.

"they kissed. i swear to god, they kissed."

"at the bachelorette party?" a gasp.

"yes. she said it was just the heat of the moment — he was her crush back in college, remember? and after all these years… it just happened. god, she said she forgot what it felt like to be wanted like that."

your stomach didn’t turn. it twisted with dark joy.

this was it. this was gold. betrayal, lust, opportunity. everything you needed to sow the perfect storm.

you didn’t waste a second. turning smoothly, you made your way to a small group near the bar — men in sleek suits, clustered together like a pack of wolves dressed in cologne and wine. they must’ve been beomgyu’s university friends, the ones he met after he burned your life to ashes. they wouldn’t know you. they wouldn’t question your role.

you approached with the gentle confidence of someone who had every right to be there. "hi," you smiled, polite and slightly sad. "i’m... one of beomgyu’s closest friends. from before med school, actually."

they turned toward you, nodding with vague recognition. one of them offered you his hand. "nice to meet you. i’m hyun. beomgyu never really talked about his old friends. but i guess he’s pretty private about that stuff."

"yeah," you said, letting just the right note of sorrow seep into your voice. "he’s... been through a lot."

they leaned in instinctively.

"i just…" you hesitated, casting your eyes downward. "i needed to say something, and i don’t know who else would understand. he’s a good guy. a really good guy. he doesn’t deserve what hana did."

their brows furrowed instantly, curiosity piqued. "what do you mean?"

you glanced around the room before leaning closer, lowering your voice. "look... i shouldn’t be saying this. but during her bachelorette party... hana kissed someone. someone she used to have a crush on in university. i think it was... soobin? and, well... maybe it didn’t stop there. maybe it went further."

they exchanged glances, jaws tightening.

"you’re sure?"

you nodded, slowly. "i didn’t want to believe it either. but hana told one of the girls herself. she was drunk. said it just... happened. like the past came rushing back and she forgot about everything else."

they muttered under their breath, disbelief and disgust curling their lips. one of them scoffed. "i knew it. she always looked too perfect. like the kind of girl who smiles sweet but keeps knives in her purse."

another one chuckled bitterly. "and beomgyu? that poor bastard... he’s really into her. like, really. he doesn’t deserve that."

"no," you agreed. "he doesn’t."

they looked at you again, this time with a different kind of respect. not suspicion, not doubt. alignment.

"thanks for telling us," hyun said after a pause. "we won’t... say anything yet. but someone should. eventually."

you nodded once more, then turned away, letting the weight of your words hang in the air behind you like smoke.

the story was unfolding exactly as it needed to — not as it was, but as you designed it. slowly, subtly, beomgyu’s world would collapse in on itself. and when the flames reached his feet, the only thing left for him to do would be burn.

ACT EIGHT: THE CONFRONTATION

you feel his eyes on you long before he reaches you. they trail your every move across the ballroom—how you tilt your head as you speak to hana's father, how you laugh gently with his old classmates, how your hands rest politely against your wine glass, calm and clean and deceptively innocent. it must be driving him insane.

and it is. because when he finally storms across the golden-lit room and grabs you by the wrist, there's no hesitation, no softness, no mask left. the smile you wear is poison-laced sugar, the kind that rots the soul.

“come with me. now,” he says through clenched teeth.

you don’t resist. instead, you raise an eyebrow, deliberately taking your time to place your glass down on a table. “so demanding. is that how you treat your guests on your wedding day?”

he doesn’t answer. just pulls you along the corridor, back through the twisting hallways, until you reach that room again—the one where secrets are born and buried. he unlocks it with the silver key, the same one you saw earlier, the same one his fiancée had.

he slams the door behind you, breath ragged. “stop playing games.”

you lean against the edge of the makeup table, unbothered. “who says i’m playing?”

“cut the act.” his voice cracks, sharp and low. “what the hell do you want from me?”

you walk slowly toward him, arms draping lazily over his shoulders, fingers trailing up the back of his neck like a ghost he thought he buried. “you,” you whisper, eyes gleaming. “i want you.”

his jaw tightens, but his hands tremble. “don’t do this.”

“why not?” your breath brushes against his ear. “because you’re scared you’ll fall again? or because you already have?”

he grabs your wrists and pulls them down. “this isn’t real. it’s never been real with you. you twist everything—”

“and yet, here you are,” you cut him off, stepping even closer. “following me, dragging me into dark rooms, asking me what i want. what does that say about you, beomgyu?”

his silence is deafening.

you smile, slow and venomous. “you don’t love her,” you say, voice flat now, cutting. “you love what she gives you. her father’s empire. the title. the access. you’re marrying a name, not a person.”

his lips part to argue, but no words come out.

“you betrayed me to save your future,” you continue, no longer seducing—now dismantling him piece by piece. “and now that i’ve returned to claim what’s mine, you think you can just tell me to stop?”

“what did you do?” his voice is hoarse, shaken, almost afraid.

you tilt your head. “you’ll find out soon enough.”

he lunges forward then, fists clenching like he might strike, but stops inches from your face. you don’t flinch. you want him to hit you. you want the mask to fall completely. instead, he breathes harshly, veins pulsing in his neck.

“you ruined everything.”

“no,” you correct, brushing invisible lint off his suit jacket. “i balanced everything. this was never your story alone, beomgyu. i was just patient enough to wait for the climax.”

from outside, you hear laughter, music, the clink of glasses. a celebration built on lies, already cracking.

he looks at you like you're the devil, but deep down—he knows he invited you in the moment he sacrificed you for his own survival.

and now the devil wants her due.

beomgyu’s gaze pierces through you as he stands just a few steps away. his chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, and his hands, clenched at his sides, tremble ever so slightly. it’s not fear—no, you recognize it now. it’s guilt, swirling just beneath the surface of his icy demeanor.

he knows you’re hiding something. his eyes narrow, his brow furrows in frustration as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

“i can see it,” he says, his voice laced with suspicion, “you’re hiding something. you always have been. i won’t let you get away with it.”

you don’t flinch. instead, you lower your head, letting your hair fall over your face as you allow yourself a small, bitter smile. “what more could you possibly do to me, beomgyu?” you ask, feigning a hurt tone that feels foreign on your tongue, but you know it works. “you already took everything from me. my career, my future. what’s left? what could you possibly take from me now?”

he takes a hesitant step back, his eyes flickering with something dangerous. “you still think i’m the villain, don’t you?”

your voice drops to a whisper, but it’s cutting, slicing through the silence with a sharp edge. “you were always the villain. from the moment you betrayed me, you sealed your fate. do you feel guilty now? do you finally understand what you did? how many lives you’ve ruined because of your mistakes?”

beomgyu’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as if to hold back a storm. “i’ve improved,” he snaps, the words spilling out quickly, defensively. “i’ve gotten better. i don’t make those mistakes anymore. i’ve worked harder than anyone to—”

“you’ve lied,” you interrupt, your tone icy. “how many patients have died because of your negligence? how many diagnoses have you gotten wrong? you can lie to yourself, beomgyu, but not to me. i remember. i remember everything.”

he freezes. the air between you thickens, heavy with the weight of your words. you can see the storm brewing behind his eyes—the frustration, the fear, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. but there's something else, too. something far darker.

“i’ve changed,” he repeats, his voice low, as though he’s trying to convince himself. “i’m not that person anymore.”

“you’ll never change,” you whisper, your gaze hardening. “i’d never make the mistakes you did. i’d never let anyone die. but you? You don’t even care. you never did.”

the tension builds between you, thick as smoke. his hands are clenched into fists, and for a moment, you think he might lash out. but then, his voice cracks, desperation lining his words. “you need to leave. now. i never want to see you again.”

ACT NINE: THE REVEAL

you feel your lips curl into a smile. the air between you feels too tense to breathe in, yet you move closer, not backing down. you raise your dress slightly, just enough to reveal the glint of bloodied steel tucked into the garter on your thigh. the knife, still slick with the evidence of your actions.

beomgyu freezes, his eyes going wide, his face draining of color. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. his voice trembles when he finally whispers, barely audible, “tell me... you didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” you ask, leaning closer, almost savoring the fear in his eyes. “you think i’d let you get away with it all? after everything you put me through?”

his breath is shallow, chest rising and falling in rapid succession. “tell me it’s not true... p-please.”

you step closer, your fingers brushing over the hilt of the knife, feeling the cool metal under your fingertips. “it’s true, beomgyu. it’s all true. but don’t worry,” you continue, leaning in so close your lips almost touch his ear. “i won’t blame you for what happened. after all, you did it. you killed her. you killed hana. and i just helped you clean up your mess.”

he stumbles back, his face ashen, eyes wide, pupils dilated. his voice cracks as he whispers the words he’s most terrified to admit, “you... you really did it, didn’t you?”

you smile, slow and deliberate, feeling a twisted satisfaction at the horror in his eyes.

“you?” he whispers again, barely able to breathe. “you killed her?”

you laugh softly, your voice a low, dangerous hum. “me? oh, beomgyu, it wasn’t me who did all of this. it was you. you just never saw it coming.”

you take a step closer, until you’re so near that his breath mingles with yours, but this time, there’s no more mask. there’s no more façade. just the reality of what’s happened and what’s to come.

with a wicked smile, you press your lips against his ear and whisper, “i didn’t kill her, beomgyu. you did.”

his face goes pale as he finally realizes the magnitude of what you’ve done. the game is over. there’s no escaping it now.

beomgyu’s denial hangs heavy in the air. “no,” he mutters, almost like a prayer. “no, i don’t believe you.” his voice shakes, but there’s something desperate behind his words, like he’s begging the world to disprove you, to make this some elaborate lie.

without breaking eye contact, you reach for his hand. he resists at first, stiff with unease, but you’re insistent. delicate fingers wrap around his wrist, and you guide his palm down your thigh, brushing past the smooth fabric of your dress until it finds the cold steel nestled against your skin.

his breath hitches the moment his fingertips graze the knife.

you press his hand harder against it, watching his face contort. “there,” you whisper in a voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “do you feel it, beomgyu? that’s her blood. your bride’s blood. your future. your lie.”

his eyes widen in disbelief, but that disbelief quickly twists into something far darker. the veins in his neck bulge with tension, his jaw clenched so tightly you hear the grind of his teeth. he jerks his hand away as if the touch burned him, but it’s already too late.

something inside him snaps.

with a choked roar, beomgyu lunges at you, fingers reaching—not for your throat, but for the knife. his face is a mask of rage, the lines once softened by charm now carved into something feral and unrecognizable.

beomgyu rips his hand away like it’s been scorched. his eyes go wide—then dark. the denial in them crumbles into something monstrous. fury consumes his features like a wildfire, burning away any remnants of the composed, gentle man he pretended to be.

“you bitch—!” he snarls, eyes wild. “you fucking psycho! i'll fucking kill you!” he growls through clenched teeth, and in a blink he’s on you, grabbing your arm and yanking the knife free from your leg.

the cold kiss of steel flashes in the dim light as he raises it.

but you’ve anticipated this moment. always one step ahead.

before the blade can meet its mark, or can close around your throat, your arm lashes out. you grab the black tie wrapped around the closet’s ornate handle—the very one he wore earlier that day—and yank it with all your strength.

the closet door bursts open.

and with a sickening thud, hana’s lifeless body tumbles forward, crashing into beomgyu’s chest like a broken doll. her dress is still pristine white, but soaked crimson around the neck, where the fatal wound rests like a grotesque necklace. her head lolls unnaturally as she falls directly onto beomgyu, knocking him back several steps.

his arms instinctively catch her, and for a split second, the world stops.

the blood.

the weight.

the coldness of her skin.

he staggers, knees nearly buckling, and the knife—your knife—slips from your leg and clatters to the floor between them, the blade nearly piercing hana’s side as she collapses fully into his trembling arms.

beomgyu doesn't scream. he can't.

the silence in the room is louder than anything. his breathing turns erratic, like a trapped animal finally realizing it's been lured into the cage. his trembling fingers touch the blood on hana's chest. his own hands, now red.

the walls are closing in. fast.

and all you do… is smile.

a slow, merciless smile as you step back into the shadows of the room. because now the stage is perfectly set.

and he is holding the murder weapon.

ACT TEN: THE MAN THEY'LL BLAME

for a moment, beomgyu doesn’t move.

he just stares—stares at the body cradled in his arms like it might still blink, might still breathe, might still whisper his name and laugh at this cruel joke. but there’s no laughter now. only the warmth of her blood soaking into his sleeves, her dress, the scent of iron clinging to every inhale. his face collapses into a grotesque mask of shock and pain.

“no,” he breathes out. “no, no, no—”

then the scream rips out of him, raw and gut-wrenching, a sound that doesn’t even sound human. he screams until his throat burns, until his lungs rattle, until the air around him trembles from the sheer force of it. the knife—your knife—still rests in his hand, stained and gleaming. his knuckles are white from how tightly he grips it.

that’s when the footsteps thunder outside.

the door bursts open.

gasps. screams. chaos.

guests flood the entrance like a wave—confused, horrified, stunned. among them, mr. yoon, hana’s father, stares into the room, frozen at the threshold. his eyes fall on his daughter first. slumped overcovered in blood. then on beomgyu—drenched in it, knife in hand, eyes wild and red.

and then… you.

you’re on the floor, trembling, hair disheveled, dress rumpled as if you’d struggled. tears streak your cheeks—perfect, practiced tears. you crawl backward, as if trying to get away from the man who supposedly tried to hurt you.

“mr. yoon—!” you cry out, voice cracking beautifully. “h-he killed her! i—i saw him! he found out about the affair, and—and when i tried to stop him, h-he tried to force himself on me!”

gasps erupt behind you. someone cries. another person retches.

beomgyu looks up, eyes darting from face to face, from you to the crowd. “she’s lying!” he shouts, hoarse, frantic. “she did this! it wasn’t me—!”

but mr. yoon’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and trembling with rage. “get away from my daughter!” he roars, his eyes blazing with grief. “you monster! YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!”

“no—please—listen to me, she—!” beomgyu tries to speak, but no one hears him. no one wants to.

they only see blood.

they only see a man with a knife and a woman sobbing on the floor.

phones are already out. someone is screaming for the police. others are backing away in terror. and the walls begin to close in on beomgyu.

he staggers to his feet, unsteady and splattered in red. the knife falls from his hand, clattering to the floor in a sharp ring of metal. he looks down at himself, the blood dripping from his fingers, painting a path of guilt behind him. his breath shortens, panic setting in like a chokehold.

“no… no, this isn’t happening…” he whispers, stumbling backward.

then—he runs.

out of the room. down the corridor. leaving a long, damning trail of crimson footprints in his wake.

and as the screams echo behind him, you stay on the floor… weeping just enough to keep the attention. just enough to keep the lie alive.

because now the world believes the story you wrote.

and beomgyu?

he’s already halfway to becoming the villain in everyone’s eyes.

FINAL ACT: THE PRICE OF BLOOD AND SILENCE

outside, the air is heavy with the weight of disbelief. voices cut through the night like blades—frantic, confused, disoriented. the manic hum of whispers grows louder the further you descend the stairs, like insects crawling over a rotting truth. people are gathered in tight little knots, their faces pale, tear-streaked, their eyes darting toward the mansion windows where the blood still clings to the glass.

you pass them quietly.

you hear the words that float around you like ghosts, each syllable another stone sealing beomgyu’s fate.

“he always said he loved hana. i didn’t think he meant… like that.”

“he was obsessed. did you see his face?”

“i told you something was off about him.”

“they say he found out about her and soobin… that she cheated during the bachelorette trip. maybe it pushed him over the edge.”

“he was crazy in love.”

you don’t speak. you don’t need to. your eyes stay low, your expression soft—an echo of grief stitched delicately across your features. every gesture rehearsed. every breath measured. inside, your heart is still. not peaceful… just empty.

you cross the lawn, past the wilting flower arrangements, past the shattered champagne glasses and chairs left crooked in haste. the wedding arch stands crooked now, fabric swaying like it’s mourning. you follow the trail of red stains, droplets growing thicker the closer you get to the garden altar.

and there he is.

beomgyu.

collapsed on the grass like a marionette with its strings cut. his knees are drawn to his chest, one hand tangled in his hair, the other pressed to his temple as if trying to hold his skull together. his suit is drenched—shoulders, chest, cuffs—sticky with the blood of the woman he thought he’d marry. he’s murmuring to himself, over and over, lips trembling, voice cracking with disbelief and despair.

“i didn’t do it… i didn’t do it… i didn’t…”

he looks like a shell. like a man who’s forgotten how to exist.

you step closer, the heels of your shoes pressing into the wet earth, and he lifts his head. slowly. his eyes find yours and the second they do, you see the shift—the dilation of his pupils shrinking into pinpoints, his body freezing.

you smile.

just a faint little curve of your lips. delicate. deranged.

he knows now.

he knows.

and when you crouch in front of him, slowly, your eyes never leaving his, your voice slides out like a silk ribbon soaked in poison.

“now you feel guilt?” you whisper. soft. intimate. cruel.

he doesn’t answer.

he can’t.

his chest rises and falls like he’s drowning. and maybe he is. drowning in blood, in betrayal, in the realization that everything he thought he controlled has crumbled. that you were never the fragile shadow of the past. you were the storm waiting to devour him.

your head tilts.

he stares at you like you’re no longer human.

because you’re not. not anymore.

you’re wrath with a smile. vengeance wearing perfume. the end of his world in a velvet dress.

his mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

and then—

sirens.

flashing lights.

the wail of justice arriving too late.

officers push through the crowd, guns drawn, shouting orders. hands grab him, dragging him up, cuffing him. he doesn’t resist. there’s no fight left. just wide, ruined eyes and hands still stained in red. he looks back at you one last time as they pull him away.

you wave.

not mockingly. not sweetly.

just… goodbye.

and as they drive him off into the night, all you can feel is the stillness.

not peace. not victory.

just silence.

and in that silence, you smile.

because your story is over.

and it ends in red.

EPILOGUE: CONFESSION IN THE DARK

the cell is cold.

not just in temperature, but in the kind of silence that settles under your skin and eats at the edges of your thoughts. beomgyu sits on the narrow cot, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp like they don’t belong to him anymore. they’ve scrubbed them—his hands—but the blood feels permanent. it’s in the creases of his palms, beneath his fingernails, deep in the lines of his fingerprints. nothing washes off guilt.

he hasn’t spoken in hours.

they asked him questions. detectives. officers. even a therapist. he answered in whispers at first. then stopped answering altogether. because what is there to say when the world you thought you built was nothing more than glass—and someone finally shattered it?

his mind replays the moment again. and again. and again.

the weight of hana’s body crashing against him. the scream caught in his throat. the slick handle of the knife in his hand. the look in your eyes.

that look.

not fury. not hatred. something worse.

triumph.

he knows now. all of it. every piece he missed. every warning he ignored. he knew you’d come back, but he thought you wanted closure. he thought you’d mourned the past like he had.

he didn’t know you’d return as ruin.

he remembers what you said. about the patients. about the mistakes.

and he remembers their faces, too. the ones he lost. the ones whose lives slipped through his hands when he was too arrogant, too inexperienced, too afraid to say “i don’t know.”

but he never thought you’d find a way to make the world see him the way you did. a killer. a fraud. a man too weak to carry the weight of a life, yet too proud to admit he dropped it.

his breathing is shallow now.

he leans back against the wall. lets his head rest there. concrete against bone. he thinks of hana. of her smile, her voice, her secrets. he doesn’t know if she really loved him. doesn’t know if she really cheated. he doesn’t even know if it matters anymore.

because all that’s left is silence.

you didn’t just take his future.

you took the last piece of himself he believed was good.

he’s not crying.

he hasn’t cried.

but something inside him is unraveling slowly, like a thread pulled loose in the dark.

the light above him flickers.

he closes his eyes.

and somewhere, buried deep in the quiet, he hears your voice again—soft, mocking, triumphant.

“now you feel guilt?”

and this time, he does.

with every heartbeat, he does.

and as the door to his cell clicked shut behind him, echoing like the toll of a final bell, the world outside kept turning—unaware that sometimes, the perfect crime wears a smile, walks in heels, and whispers love like poison.

[altacctforastarion]

Hey! Love your Astarion works! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic of Astarion and the reader 69ing? I was reading through your recent headcanons and it made me realize I’ve never seen an Astarion fic including that before. Thanks for considering my request! :)

Hey anon! Thanks for requesting, I’d actually thought about writing a fic including it so thank you for the excuse! I set this post-game, I think it’d be neat if Astarion could be a magistrate again (I know nothing about magistrates/dnd legal systems tho so it’s vague as HELL), so like y’all have a cute lil house in the city and Astarion is a late night magistrate. Just for fun. Also:

I think 69 only happens when he’s not the dominant one tbh, any other time I think he wants to see you while he goes down, so he just won’t let you, but if you’re in charge he lets you decide. And if you decide you want him whimpering while he pleases you, he whimpers while he pleases you 🤷🏻 so here is Sub!Astarion 69ing!

Warnings: 18+ obvi, mdni, oral sex (both receiving), Sub!Astarion, 69ing, blood drinking during sex, slight praise kink (he receives), you’re a super soft dom, AFAB reader, no pronouns for you and no use of y/n. Not edited at all, please tell me if there are any awful typos

Edit: forgot about tag list:

@lotus-ignis @astari0nsju1ceb0x

If you want to join the list dm/reply/or leave a note in my inbox!

Astarion was quiet, sitting up in your shared bed with a book on his lap and a scowl on his face, he’d barely spoken since he’d returned to your home from work, giving you a tired, half-hearted smile and a “Hello, darling” and then having a long bath with a glass of wine. You’d given him space, waiting in the bedroom for him to come to bed.

When he’d joined you, wearing only underwear and a silk black robe, he’d kissed you, a simple peck on your lips, and then picked up his book, reading in his unusual silence. He doesn’t like to talk much when he’s had a bad day, both because of a need for decompression, and because he doesn’t want to give himself an opportunity to lash out at you.

It had only happened once, and he’d only given a snarky reply to a question you’d asked when he got home, an apology on his lips as soon as he realized what he’d done, but since then he’s been careful, calming himself before he tells you all the details, relaxing at least a little before he allows himself to interact with you how he usually does.

You keep yourself busy with your own book, until you hear him close his book and speak, agitation coloring his tone, “Someone lost all of my paperwork before I got there, and it was a pain to find them. Everyone I dealt with today was an idiot, and there I was, in charge of all of the idiots with my lost paperwork. And now I’m home, with you, and I still feel that weight instead of relaxing. Come here, would you?”

You put your book on your nightstand and move over to him, going in for a cuddle but he pulls you to him and kisses you, gentle at first but then there’s hunger, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He pulls you until you’re on top of him, his hands on your hips, and the kiss breaks as you adjust, your legs on either side of him. An idea hits you, as you look down at him, at his tired eyes and the tension that lingers on his face, “Would you want to change how we do this? You could just lay back and let me take care of you?”

He looks surprised at first, and then it’s masked by flirtatious confidence, “How sweet of you, darling. How would you “take care of me”, exactly?”

Your skin flushes, and he eyes your neck, watching the blood go to your cheeks, “We don’t have to, I just… when I was leading back then, right before we fought the brain it was nice when you made the decisions in bed, I just did what you wanted and let you have your way with me. I thought maybe I could do that for you? If you want to. If not I’m perfectly happy with-“

“You avoided my question. How would you take care of me, if I allowed it?” You catch the word allowed, and realize he’s not teasing you, not trying to pull dirty talk from your lips, he’s being cautious. He’d been used and abused for years, all while retreating into his mind and he won’t have that happening again. No, if you have control over him it’s because he let you, not because you took it, and no matter how much he loves and trusts you he needs details.

“I’d use my hands, or my mouth, or maybe both on you, and when you fucked me we’d do it like this, with me on top and you can just lay there and let me. I’d tell you beautiful you look under me,” You move down, his face in your neck and your lips to his ear, “I’d let you drink from me like this, while I’m on top of you, and maybe you’d be inside of me. I’ll do whatever you want, Star, you can just ask and I’ll give you anything. You can relax and let me please you, the only work you’d have to do is drinking from me.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, and when you move again, so you can look at him, and he looks significantly more interested in your offer. “You’ll stop if it’s too much? If I don’t like it?”

“Of course, same as always. If you aren’t enjoying something let me know and it stops right away.” You reach for his face, cupping his jaw, “We don’t have to do this either, it’s all for you, what do you want?”

“I..I want you that, it would be nice to stop thinking for a bit. Have your way with me, love.” He says the first part tentatively, but he’s smiling flirtatiously when he finishes speaking, and you smile back at him, eager to start.

You climb off of him and remove your clothes, urging him to do the same, and he teases you about your eagerness, telling you if you wanted a taste of him so bad you could have simply asked, laughing when you throw your shirt at him in response.

—

Astarion’s gasps are constant, in time with every time you let him into your throat, his hips bucking against your hands that are keeping him mostly still. He’s deep in your throat when his hands bury themselves in your hair, your name coming out in a low moan before he speaks, voice hoarse, “D-darling,” He cuts himself off with another moan, followed by a curse as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and look up at him, “Darling- oh, gods do that again.”

You’d hollowed your cheeks, sucking him into your throat on a slow descent, your tongue licking at the underside of his cock, and when you repeat it he whines, high in his throat, and his hands pulls your hair lightly. He lets out a shaky breath when you pull back, letting his cock slip free from your mouth, and looking down at you with a vaguely scandalized look on his face.

“You were trying to say something, I didn’t want to distract you. What were you about to say, Astarion?” You smile, and he glared down at you.

“I was going to say I wanted to return the favor, but then you decided to be a devil.” Dramatics aside, he still looks down at you with want.

Your hand ghosts over his cock, fingers trailing up and down with light touches, just to watch him squirm, enjoying the redness on his face afterwards, and you continue with your teasing touches while you speak, “You want me to stop doing this? Or were you asking for that after this?”

“I- gods I don’t know. Don’t make me choose, you’re in control tonight.” His eyes flick away from yours, and you can sense giving up that control is difficult, he’s making an active choice to leave things to you.

Not wanting to give him time to linger, you lick a stripe up his cock and take him into your hand as you feel his thighs shake just slightly. You stroke him slowly, your grip firm as you contemplate, feeling the ache of your untouched cunt. “I saw a painting at a brothel once- don’t ask, I won’t tell you. A woman was on top of a man, using her mouth on him while he used his on her. Would you want to try that? It’s completely fine if not, but if you don’t you’ll have to wait to return the favor, I’m not done with you yet.” You finish your sentence with your thumb circling the head of his cock, and he lets out another low moan, whispering your name like a curse afterwards, like it’s the only thing in his mind. His head has fallen back on the pillow, and you can see as his eyes close, his lashes fluttering against his reddened skin.

You continue to stroke him as you wait for a reply, and you speed up when his hips buck up, a little high-pitched sound leaving his throat before he speaks, “You’re in charge.” He says it like he can barely force out the words, lost in the pleasure you’re providing. He makes a needy sound when you let go of his cock despite giving you the okay to change things up, and you can’t help but to lean down and lick up his cock again before you move to get into the position you’d described. He gasps, and his hips chase your lips but you’ve already moved away with a smile at him, at the desperate look in his eyes as he looks at you.

—

You breathe out a little laugh as you attempt to get into the foreign position, feeling a little silly at how you’re moving while you arrange yourself. And you hear him sigh, amused, “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

He helps you get your legs on either side of his head and when his breath ghosts over your core, you lose your humor, a little gasp leaving your lips. “Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, instead you feel his hands on your hips, and then he pulls you down, his tongue delving into your folds immediately, none of the normal teasing as he licks you with fervor, his moan matching yours as he tastes your wetness on his tongue.

You let yourself drop to your elbows, a hand coming up to move his cock before taking him into your mouth, feeling him moan against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit wonderfully, you begin to move your head, and you feel him move his head before his tongue pushes into your entrance, and your hips move on their own accord, grinding down on his face before you catch yourself. His cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop as you lift your body up. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful!”

He sounds starved when he answers, pleading, “Please do that again.”

You flush again, and hesitantly lower your hips to his face, listening to him moan when he returns to his task, his tongue entering you, and you slowly, carefully, grind down on his tongue, a moan ripping from your throat at the feeling of it inside you. You do it again, just as slow before he pulls your hips down and rocks your cunt against his mouth with force, before letting you go, a clear indication of what he wants from you.

You take the suggestion as you take his cock back into your mouth, letting your hips roll against him with a little less fear of hurting him, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. You fuck your own throat with his cock, rocking forward to take it in deeper and rocking backwards onto his face after, and you feel the little sounds he’s making against your cunt even though you can’t hear them.

You hear the loud whimper he lets out when you focus on the head of his cock, feel how his tongue falters in its movements for just a second when yours laps at him. He won’t last long like this, and you fight the urge to ask him if this is how he’d like to cum, reminding yourself that you’re in charge. You decide you want him to cum inside you instead, and you pull off of his cock, a loud whimper coming from him, “Will you make me cum, love? Then I’ll ride you while you drink?” You lift your hips up slightly, to give him the option to refuse or voice his approval, half expecting him to just pull you down again.

“Please let me?” He pleads, his hands gripping your hips.

“Let you do what love?” You ask, confused, your hips lifting up a bit more, and his grip gets tighter as you hear him whine.

“I want you to cum like this, please. Use- use my mouth.” He sounds desperate for it, like he wants nothing more, not even bothering to acknowledge the rest of your proposition.

You let out a little moan, loving every little bit of his desperation for you, and lower your hips again. He sucks at your clit greedily, tongue flicking against you and you moan and you lean down to lick at his dripping cock, little tongue flicks that match his, and you feel his whimpers as you let him back into your mouth.

You get close quickly, moaning around his cock and rocking back on his face, feeling and hearing the desperate sounds he makes against your pussy. You feel his tongue enter you again and that’s all it takes, crying out as you cum on his face, letting his cock fall out of your mouth, licking at it while you recover.

He doesn’t stop immediately after he’s worked you through it, and you gasp and twitch from sensitivity, lifting your hips up and feeling his tongue chase you.

You move off of him, your wobbly knees making it difficult but he helps you, until you’re on the bed next to him. Your hand cups his jaw, the other going to his curls, playing with them, “Are you alright, love? How are you feeling?”

“Like you should have shared your brothel knowledge sooner. Kiss me, please?” He asks, already reaching for you. You give him what he wants, of course, laying down next to him and letting him pull you in for a kiss. His tongue briefly dipping into your mouth, your taste on his tongue, before he breaks the kiss. “I’d like to be in you now, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, Star.” You kiss him again, for just a second before straddling him, his cock wedged in between his stomach and your pussy, “You’re doing great for me, my love. So fucking good, just for me.“

Astarion’s face flushes again, “Yes, yes. Now get to it.” After a delay, and the twitch of his cock giving away how much he enjoys the praise, he amends, “Please, darling?”

You lean down to kiss him as you line his cock up with your entrance, and your tongue enters his mouth as you sink down on him, swallowing his groan. His hands go back to your hips, and you have a new idea, “Would you like for me to hold you down? I could hold your hands?”

“If you’re gentle, we can try it.” He looks a little anxious, but excited, and you’re slow as you go for his hands, your fingers sliding in between his when you’ve moved them to the bed on either side of his head. You apply light pressure, and rock down on his cock, before riding him slowly, just a few thrusts to see how he feels about your new position. He attempts to move his hands, you barely let them raise an inch before they’re back against the bed, he groans, “Gods, yes, that’s good. I like that.”

“So good, Star, letting me try new things on you. So pretty.” You praise, before you start riding him, and the angle has his cock hitting that spot inside you on every thrust. You gasp as you start to speed up, and he lets out a little whine. You watch his eyes close, lost in his pleasure, and his hips buck against you occasionally, his cock pushing into you just right.

You wait until you’re both getting close before you let go of his hands, and his eyes open in surprise, but you just smile at him and cup his jaw again, “Would you like to drink from me?”

“Please.” His voice comes out in another whine, and you lean down, pulling his head and upper body up towards you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You’re so close, and when his fangs pierce your neck, you cum, gasping from the sensitivity as you continue to move on his cock, and you feel him moan against your neck as you clench around him.

He hips thrust up into you while he drinks, before he shudders and cums, and you feel him lapping up the blood that spills freely while he’s distracted. You stay on his cock, petting his hair while he finishes drinking from you, his cock slowly softening inside you.

When he’s done you start to move off of him, to get clean and help him do the same, but his arms wrap around you, his face still buried in your neck, “Stay, please?”

“Of course, my love. Are you alright?”

“Just you, like this.” He breathes in your scent deeply, his lips on your lightly bleeding pulse, “Thank you for this, love. I..I really needed it.”

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful. I’m glad it helped.”

[joostabernichtklein]

Joost Klein x Lithuanian fem!reader headcanons

I remember that anon asked for this a while back, but the the ask just disappeared. Didn't forget about it tho. So enjoy!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

You probably met at a music festival or online because of his music. When he found out you were Lithuanian, he got super curious

“Wait, Lithuania? That’s sick! Do you guys actually eat pink soup? Can I try it??”

He instantly follows you on Instagram and starts reacting to all your stories with the heart emoji

“So… are all Lithuanian girls this gorgeous? Or just you?”

He deep-dives into Lithuanian culture and history just to impress you. One day, he proudly tells you, “Did you know Lithuania was once the biggest country in Europe? That’s crazy!”

He adores hearing you speak Lithuanian, even if he doesn’t understand much. He tries to learn a few phrases, but his pronunciation is hilariously bad. You find it adorable

You teach Joost some Lithuanian phrases, and while he’s a fast learner in English and other languages, his attempts at pronouncing Lithuanian words often result in a lot of laughter

One of his favorite phrases is also “Tu esi graži” (You are beautiful), and he loves saying it to you in the most dramatic ways, making you smile every time

You both enjoy laughing over how hard Lithuanian is to learn, but it becomes a fun bonding experience, with you correcting him when he gets it hilariously wrong

Calls you “mano gražuolė” (my beautiful girl) in the most exaggerated Dutch accent possible

He always shows up at your place with some random Lithuanian snack he found. “Babe, I got... uh... Krikštynų riestainiai??”

Writes a song that lowkey references you and also adding some words in lithuanian. When fans ask, “Who is this about?” he just grins and says, “Oh, you’ll never know.”

Joost absolutely loves Lithuanian food! He becomes obsessed with cepelinai and keeps asking you to teach him how to make them. (He’s a disaster in the kitchen, though.)

If you ever make the pink soup, he takes one look at the pink color and hesitates—then takes a sip and loves it

When he visits Lithuania with you, he goes all out—tourist mode activated! He wants to see everything, from Vilnius Old Town to the Curonian Spit, and he takes tons of silly pictures

Tries to climb the Gediminas Tower hill at full speed and regrets it halfway up

Once, he randomly posts a TikTok of himself dancing to a Lithuanian song you like, just to make you smile

He learns one full Lithuanian sentence and uses it all the time just to sound cool, even if it doesn’t fit the conversation

If he ever hears someone say something rude about Lithuania, he immediately defends it, even if he barely understands what they said

You teach him some naughty words in Lithuanian, and he repeats them with that grin, biting his lip. “What’s that mean again?” You know he knows

He writes a song that’s clearly about the way you sound in bed — and when you call him out, he just shrugs. “Can you blame me?”

He loves when you mix Lithuanian with English in bed. It drives him crazy

Definitely the type to be like “You like that, mano meile?” in a breathy voice, hand gripping your hip like you're the only thing keeping him grounded

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

-Actually i hope that everything fits right just because im not from Lithuania and used google for the most part as well as for the sentences

-Not proof-read

-Don't forget to send more asks!

[violetjedisylveon]

Okay one random idea I have that Macaque wanting you know play prank at Wukong and staff with him living in FFM "without" Wukong permission ( Macaque didnt ask but we all know Wukong allowed him to)

Only to found out Wukong is preggo! Dun dun Dunnnn!!

Wukong being Wukong of course he hide this from everyone well almost everyone. MK and Bull family know about this and secretly helping Wukong.

But here's a thing everyone who know WANT to know who's the 'father' of the child. Wukong REFUSE to tell them of anything as he is ashame of himself to even let them know. He even begged them to keep their mouth shut.

PIF: Brother... just tell me who's the father and I promise I wont be mad... I chew them alive

MK: Monkey King pls you going to be a Mama and Im about to be the uncle and I dont even know who my so call in law

Macaque: Name.

[MK and PIF (maybe Macaque) is ready to sent someone to diyuu for this]

And Macaque will go full mood finding the secret and look for the father (Or becoming the father- *cough* yeah MK and PiF won't let that happend)

Will the secret ever be spill? Will Wukong suffer from being a Mama? Will it be happy ending? 🤔👀

well I'm writing it so probably yes happy ending

Imagine being Macaque tho, you go to your ex's house to play a prank and then find out he's pregnant and been pregnant for who knows how long?

The funniest way this could go is that Wukong figured out how to do parthenogenesis on accident and is embarrassed about it, but let's have some more fun with it, shall we?😈

Depending on how long Wukong's been pregnant, there are a few options.

The worst one is that while Macaque was possessed by LBD, she made him SA Wukong and he doesn't know because he doesn't remember doing it.

So Wukong has extra reason to not want to tell anyone because 1, Macaque did it and they might get mad at him, and 2, Macaque was forced to assault him by a being who had complete control over his body and has no memory of ever doing it.

Wukong figures finding out your body was puppeted into assaulting your ex is gonna be fairly traumatic, it sure as hell was traumatic for him to experience.

So that's a fun little bomb to drop on everyone, but they'll find out anyway when the cub is born with either ears shaped like Macaque's or multiple ears, so he really doesn't have the time to figure out how to tell them.

It's also really hard because Macaque is doing what all the other monkeys are doing to help him cause monkey brain says "help pregnant troop member", and he's the sire of the cub and should be doing more involved things so Wukong's monkey brain is getting mad at him because he's not doing the mate things he should be doing!

One way or another, the truth of that gets spilled, and it's not fun for anyone involved, everyone is really mad at Macaque for being the sire and acting like he has no idea what was going on, when he genuinely doesn't, then once Wukong explains, everyone is super mad at LBD for pulling that shitty move.

Macaque is disgusted with the situation, and offers to get the fetus deletus water for Wukong.

Do they keep the baby, do they not? It's up to interpretation.

There's actually a fic with the premise of LBD makes Macaque assault Wukong only only Macaque does know and is forced to watch as his body is used, but it gets very explicit

Alternatively, Macaque uses his ears to hear the past and find out who did this and if it was consensual, if so he'll drag the deadbeat to face the family, if not, find the asshole and kill them.

Or celestial monkeys can do delayed implantation and this is a fertilized egg from way back before the brotherhood stuff happened that's just been hanging around for two thousand+ years, and either the egg decided to implant itself or Wukong accidentally triggered it, and is again, embarrassed about it because he had no idea he could do that.

I like this one most cause it's silly. So it's the one I'll be going with.

Once he, and Macaque, get over the whole "we had sex two thousand+ years ago and conceived something that decided to be born now", it's a pretty chill time.

So no one can mess with Wukong now cause he's got the DBK fam, MK, and Macaque all protecting him until the baby is born.

The babies (whoops it's twins, Rumble and Savage) are born after the big battle in season 4, like immediately because of the stress of the situation and they decide "aight it's go time", so they get like, five minutes to calm down from the craziness before the contractions start.

Season 5 gets to have little monkey babies making things more complicated.

It's very awkward when the monkeys are dragged to the underworld and the ten kings + Li Jing find out they had babies, and the monkey dads are mad because they woke their babies up and it'll take forever to get them back down for the night. Nezha did not see the point in telling his dad the monkeys reproduced.

Monkey dads are extra angry at the celestial realm because their babies are being threatened and so Macaque doesn't get shelved for half the season he drops the whole truck through a shadow portal and joins the fun.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

Hi sweetie!

How are you? Hope school and everything is going well. Congrats on your exam! I know you'll do great on all the others bc I just have that much faith 😌

I saw your little schedule and saw upcoming Hyune and Jisung fics wich sound amazing just by the title. So now I'm super excited for those!!

Just a little idea for you... But I have an unhealthy obsession with perv Seung. The perv Jisung headcanons made me think you might be open to writing this. Something about perv Seungmin just hits harder than it does for any other member (for me at least). I was thinking about being in a relationship with him and his perv tendencies start peeping through...then one day you catch him using like your underwear or another one of your items to get off and you just go along with it (bc y/n crazy like that) 😭

If you just wanna chat, feel free to ignore my request when (and if) you reply to this. I'm totally cool with just being friendly and talking. I'm on Tumblr for the community after all 🤷‍♀️

You're fics make me feel some type way everytime I read them no matter how many times I read them and I super appreciate you! Love you 🤟

-🐺🐺🐺🩷🩷🩷

OF COURSE I CAN TAKE YOUR REQUEST I FEAR NO CHALLENGE

(i can actually see this with Seungmin tho~)

Pervy boyfriend Seungmin x fem reader Headcannons

into smutfic >.>

SFW + NSFW (idol Seungmin, UNDERWEAR STEALER?!?!, someone sedate me-, sweet Seungminnie very breiefly..., unprotected sex wrap it before you tap it lovies., seungmo is not slick, lil bit of sweet bullying >.>, seungmin will never be stopped.)

someone tach me how to do the side by side pics thing. it never works..

Boyfriend Seungmin who spoiled you when he wasn't busy. He wasn't perfectly affectionate, bullying you all the time, but it was his way of loving on you.

Boyfriend Seungmin who called you stupid names when you had silly arguments (nothing serious really).

Boyfriend Seungmin who would brag to STAY about how amazing you were.

Boyfriend Seungmin who would check your location constantly when you went out. For one because he was worried about you. And for two because...

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin stole your panties again.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who was for once scared you might catch him.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who would take your bras with him on tour and jerk off to the thought of you. Inhaling your scent from the panties he'd oh so rightfully stolen.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who fucked into the mattress when you sent him pictures of you while he was away.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who imagined you under him when you squealed on the phone about something. Oh, he'd give you a reason to squeal.

Boyfriend Seungmin who promised you he'd be home soon.

Boyfriend Seungmin who hugged you in the airport, acting calm and collected when really...

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin wanted nothing more than to bend you over and make you take his manhood. But knew that you wouldn't like doing such a thing in public... or maybe you would (maybe he should make you at some point)

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who didn't wait to put his bags down when you got home and to your bedroom. Pulling your pants and panties off with such force it shocked him, fucking you like his life depended on it. maybe it did.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who seemed to get harder when you moaned at how rough he was being with you.

Pervy Boyfriend Sungmin who asked begged you to let him cum inside. Who let out soft whimpers when you climaxed together.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who wanted to be sweet to you after you did so well for him, but who's dick came back to life at the sight of your pretty pussy oozing his seed.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who encouraged you to go out and have fun with your friends, just to stay home and bury his face in you cum covered panties from the night before.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who was in the middle of jerking off to a voice message you'd sent him when you walked in because you forgot your wallet. Who's face burned pink as you made him feel vulnerable... embarrassed...

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who wasn't going to let you get away with that...

He hadn't intended it to go like this.. but he wasn't going to complain as you bounced on his cock, rocking you hips into his own, moaning softly.

Seungmin groaned and gripped your hips, thrusting up into you.

"You're such a weirdo." You moaned.

He looked at you with an incredulous expression, "I'm the weirdo? You see me with your used panties in my face and the first thing you do is jump on my dick."

Your face went redder if that was even possible. Seungmin leaned over, pushing you onto your back and fucking into you. "Then again, I'll take this pretty pussy over just your underwear any day."

You whined, "At least stop stealing my favorite bra."

He smiled as he reached between your legs and rubbed your clit. "How about no?"

You wanted to say something more but he forced the air out of your lungs as he slammed deep into you. His tip kissed your cervix before he came hard, pushing you over the edge with him and whining as your pussy squeezed him tightly, milking him dry.

Pervy Boyfriend Seungmin who kept your panties before sending you back out again.

Tags

@asahisimpnation

Apply for taglist here

[sharkorok]

yeonjun w/ an inexperienced s.o

a/n: yooo the legendary yeonjun pic :P, anyways i decided to just follow the oldest member pattern I hope that’s ok anonnie :>

requested: yes!! thank uuu

tw/genre: cursing, fluff, campus au ig(?), fboi yeonjun kinda not really, insecurities so like minimal angst I suppose, tell me if I missed anything :]

•-•-•-•-•-•

-ok so yeonjun. practically everyone has had a crush on him at least two times in their life

-you’ve heard of his charms and smooth-talking and thanked god every day he’s never talked to you because PHEW you had no idea how to respond to that holy moly

-ok once again we are at a party and yeonjun sees you and thinks ur super duper pretty and he’s like “omg isn’t that the person who made someone cry because they responded to ‘i love you’ w thanks?”

-and that only happened because you didn’t know to respond with “i love you too” or “aww thanks” so whateves but you’re pretty notorious for being clumsy with relationships and avoiding getting into them

-so he walks up to you and is like “hey” w rizz and he finds your awkwardness both endearing and refreshing

-the crowd he hangs around with are familiar with sucking up to people or being charming, being automatically magnetic, and in the nicest way possible you weren’t really like that

-but you two become friends and date congrats

-he thinks you’re the cutest ever like genuinely

-maybe it’s the virgo in him but he likes teaching you things or at least helping you through them

-like your first proper kiss or make out or whatever, he walks you through it without making it awkward or patronizing and you appreciate that

-he’s very open about your relationship, he wants you to know he doesn’t care if anyone has nasty opinions on the two of you, he’s proud to show you off

-lowk tho i do feel like he gets insecure if you don’t express your love or affection for him but he also understands so he’s super conflicted and aghhh

-but then ur friend is like “what about gift giving or expressing love in your own way?” and ur like “omg ur so right?”

-and so everyday you write sticky notes or little letters reminding him of all the reasons why you love him, or you do tiny acts and you explain “until I get more comfortable I want to show you I love you in my own way” and he cries

-like he actually cries it was kinda awkward but sweet at the same time, he really appreciates you making an effort for him

-so after that he really cherishes ur little expressions of love :) and then gets pissed if anyone says u don’t treat him right

-because nuh uh yes u do, in ur own way

-likes to fluster you on purpose though, thinks you look cutest when you’re flustered and confused

-he won’t make fun of you but he’ll tease you for sure (if ur ok with it), but he always somehow compliments you too??

-“how can someone as gorgeous as you be so inexperienced with relationships?” and ur not sure whether you feel called out or flattered

-takes you on lots and lots of dates so you can experience what it’s like having a nice boyfriend who’s good to you! he’ll make sure this relationship will be the standard and more for any future partners u have.

-(not like you’ll have anyone else you’re too in love w him)

-never misses a beat with you, because he’s so good at conversation and being a flirt it doesn’t matter if you can’t reciprocate cuz he’ll just carry the convo lol

-“uhhh thanks for the flowers yeonjun :]” i love u too.” “yo whaaaat” and he just winks and kisses ur cheek

-what a weird couple, anyways

-he likes to push you a little bit, not really for your relationship but because it’s amusing

-like if you want physical affection but feel too shy to ask for it he’ll play dumb until you get all pouty and sulky

-“please give me a kiss oh my god jun” “shshsh I’m sorry I was joking!!”

-one time at a party this girl was hardcore flirting with yeonjun and talking about how she LOVESSS pda and how she’s SOOO EXPERIENCED and how she knows how to treat a man and she’s doing this all in front of you, rlly testing your patience

-yeonjun just rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand that’s loosely being held in his, but before he knows it you dragged him by the collar to give him a kiss

-if love isn’t ur fuel for confidence, jealousy and spite sure is

-“good thing I have a partner who treats me perfectly,” yeonjun says after you do your little smooch n she’s so pissed ur giggling

-yeonjun always is like “You don’t have to,” or “take your time,” and “only if you want to, ok?”

-so you don’t have to worry about meeting his expectations, the only way to disappoint is if you don’t feel comfortable enough setting boundaries and then he’s disappointed in the both of you

-makes u feel like the safest ever but also so flustered and giddy

-ok bye I’m devastated why r u so cute in these

[zmediaoutlet]

aw, @runawaydr3amerao3 (!!) tagged me to do a little fic questionnaire, which seems like the perfect thing for a springtime friday afternoon -- also a fun (alarming) trip to the AO3 statistics page:

1. How many works on AO3?

220

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

1,589,415

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos?

1. oh so good, oh so fine; 2. there will be better days; 3. see things so much clearer; 4. into the flood again; 5. side two, track one

4. What fandoms do you write for?

...Supernatural, lol. Although I also have dabbled in the usual suspects: J2 AUs, HP, MCU, Final Fantasy, etc.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Usually! Not if they're emojis, but if someone's left actual words I try to respond. I'm currently very behind, yikes, and the new rate-limiter on AO3 is not helping.

6. Angstiest Ending?

Hm. Probably a tie between cheyenne and the hollow summer; they're both no-hope spots, which I normally avoid like plague, but they were appropriate for those stories.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

Arguably it should be any of the heaven fics, haha, but I think it might be the constant vow -- not because nothing bad will ever happen to them again (s7 is coming!), but because they're so tied together by the circumstances of that fic that I think maybe they can weather any danger.

8. Do you get hate?

Sometimes! Rarely regarding fic, though, and I've often wondered why. Maybe because my public-facing affect is so hard-shelled. You can't poke me, trolls. Sorry.

9. Do you write smut?

And well. :)

10. Do you write crossovers?

Only a few! I like them in concept but the only way I like them is if they're hard fucking work, lol. It's a fun challenge tho, sometimes.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

I know for a fact I've had a few lines plagiarized here and there, and boy is that a queasy-making experience when you notice. But as far as whole fics, idk. Whatever happens on wattpad can stay there.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a handful, and the BEST thing is to then take that translated fic and run the bot-translation back into English. Some of the shit that happens is surprisingly poetic and some of it will make you laugh until you cry, haha. But I think my favorite is the translation of the heaven fic into Spanish, because the title became so beautiful: llegarán días mejores. <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Only once, and it was a shitty experience. Not just bc of other things about the co-writer but like -- I thought we were going to co-write and not what actually happened, which is that I wrote everything and the like two pages she contributed had to get re-written. :/ It's a fun idea in theory but the practice was. Bad.

14. All time favourite ship?

...guess. --ALTHOUGH if we get outside my own writing there are tons of ships I adore and just never feel the need to actually write anything. Shout-out Amram/Zelikman from Gentlemen of the Road.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I despair of my super long J2 AU that's the xover with the Kushiel 'verse, Nightblooming Flowers. What's there is fun and fine, and kind of works as an ending where it does cut off, but it was supposed to get a complicated knotty plot and... ugh. Also the writing style is a lot more flowery than I actually like to do -- appropriate for the subject matter but it's just not something I gear into easily. Maybe I should reread the book series and just lock in. (Maybe I should quit my job.)

16. Writing Strengths?

I think I'm really good at the balance of when to switch between summary and scene -- and from there pacing generally. To my credit, when it's fucked up in a story I do know; I just don't always have the wherewithal to fix it. :)

17. Writing Weaknesses?

PLOT. And also, as my bud has pointed out, I avoid shenanigans, and that's to my detriment actually. I never want to do cutesy shit -- twists, reveals, ticking clocks, villains, last-minute character introductions, etc. I think this is bc I really learned taste on literary short-form and including things that make reading actually fun is very looked down on, haha. Honestly I should make that a challenge. Shenanigans Bingo.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

It's great. I'm only comfortable enough to do it in Spanish pero no es algo debería disputar--debe escribir en el idioma apropriado para el cuento y los personajes. Although I'm never totally sure if I'm using por or para right. Once the entire conversation switches into another language I do prefer that the narrative just quietly indicate that now they're speaking French or w/e and continue in English; actually writing in the other language is most useful when you're obscuring information from the narrative POV (although becomes a nice Bilingual Bonus for the reader).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy! I'm sure it was bad.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Errr. In one sense, always the most recent one. But I think the actual writing in asceticism might be the best.

Now I get to tag other people, yay. Let's see: @enteselene, @hearthouses-admin; @flownwrong; @nigeltde-fic, @phynali, @quickreaver, @themegalosaurus

[musicalmoritz]

Ok ok I want you to think about swap terukane so like clock keeper Teru x exorcist Akane. And also like Akanes the super super popular school president. Yea so like thoughts/headcanons?? (I always cook up the most insane ideas in the middle of the night and I actually remember this one vaguely!)

Let’s talk about the Terukane swap au!! I’ve seen a few people write and draw for this but I’ve never rly read any of the fics or looked too much into it so I’m entirely making this shit up on my own, Ik this is a popular trope so I apologize if I miss any of the sub tropes that are included with it ;-;

It’s hard for me to separate Teru or Kou from exorcism since the Minamotos were a real life clan, but I don’t think I’d go about this in the “Akane is a Minamoto and Teru is an Aoi” way. I suppose for this au it’s most reasonable to say the Minamotos are a regular family and the Aois are the exorcist clan. That provides another fun question tho, are the Akane girls still kannagi?? Since this is strictly a Terukane swap au I’ll assume they are, though if we wanted to take it further we could swap Aoi with Nene or one of the other characters. It’s easier for me to follow strict guidelines tho so I’m gonna keep it at just Terukane being swapped

That alone changes so much of the story tho, it’s very interesting to me. We’ll say the Minamotos are still a strict/traditional family, so there’s still some pressure on Teru and Kou. Just not to the extent that there is in canon. And assuming their mom still died in due to complications from childbirth, their dad would still be absent and Teru and Kou will still have to grow up too soon by raising Tiara. But things would be significantly easier on them since they’d be taking care of the family together. Teru would learn basic life skills like cooking, which would take a load off of Kou. Then since the work would be split, they’d both have more free time on their hands. If one of them wants to hang out with friends, the other can take over cooking and cleaning for the night. Tho that would lead to numerous sibling arguments, since Teru is the oldest he’d probably push Kou around a bit when they’re younger lol. He’d run that house like the military

I want to say Kou is the one the Clock Keepers threaten him with since Teru is so protective of him, but that wouldn’t rly work since they wouldn’t be at school together during Teru’s first year of junior high. As an oldest sibling, Teru is very protective by nature, so they might be able to choose any random student. Once they have him where they want him, they throw in some threats aimed at his siblings to secure their chances of making a contract. So Teru ends up going down the same self-sacrificial route we see in canon, he becomes a Clock Keeper so that no one else has to do it

Without any siblings, Akane is the soul beholder of the family legacy. Self-sacrifice isn’t even an option for him, he’s the only one who can succeed his parents so he must do it. Then there’s Aoi, his childhood best friend. If Akane were an exorcist and they grew up together, Aoi would find out about supernaturals way sooner. Maybe he tells her himself, because he can no longer carry the burden alone. And he knows she’s a kannagi, that something bad could happen to her someday if he doesn’t keep a close eye on her, so he has to watch her like a hawk. In this au there’s not as many secrets between them, so much is at stake so they have to be transparent with each other. Akane’s honesty inspires Aoi to be more honest with him as well. So the obsession between them, platonic or otherwise, is a lot more mutual. They developed sort of a trauma bond at an early age and now they have to look out for each other

Akane’s popularity comes from his natural inclination to help others. He’s such a kind person, even if he can be aggressive. And without him having to constantly chase Aoi, no one thinks he’s a weirdo. It’s a little odd that he’s so protective of his friend, but he’s so damn nice that everyone just shrugs it off as him being sweet. Teru though? Teru is the weirdo

His family is still strict but without the same expectations placed on him, there’s no need for him to try and excel at everything. No one cares if he’s the best student so he can do whatever he wants. And yeah, he’s pretty, but he’s also loud and annoying. He teases people and gets creepily sadistic at times. This ties into my audhd Minamotos headcanon, without the pressure he’s under in canon, Teru feels less of a need to mask. He still does it to some extent due to societal pressure and all but the only opinion he really cares about are those of his siblings, so he’s content to be himself. He makes a few friends this way too, he’s not exactly popular but the people who get him get him. I’m gonna make him friends with Nene in this au, she appreciates his realness

Because of Akane’s hatred for supernaturals, they don’t get along at first. Teru joins the Student Council to keep a better eye on everyone so he can do better at his job as a Clock Keeper. Kou attending Kamome and getting closer with supernaturals has a lot to do with it. When they first meet, Akane ties Teru up and tries to interrogate him but bcuz this is Less Traumatized Teru it goes way differently than he planned. Teru’s filter is nonexistent so when Akane tries to threaten him he’s just like “oh hello cute boy I like you very much.” But the thing is, Akane can’t tell if Teru is joking or not. He assumes he must be, because there’s no way a School Mystery feels things like love and crushes. Still, Teru is so painfully Just A Regular Dude that Akane is forced to see him differently. Cue the typical Terukane “relationship built on trust” shenanigans. Reluctant partners in crime and what not

I’m not gonna go as far as to say they have a Sakura and Natsuhiko type dynamic but it’s similar. The classic “are you flirting with me?” “have been for the past 10 years, thanks for noticing” meme. Think of it as all of Teru’s jokes about liking Aoi in canon if they were directly aimed at Akane instead. Then the “wait- do you have genuine feelings for Ao-chan?” scene becomes “do you have genuine feelings for me?” or “were you serious this whole time?” Their dynamic changes a lot after that. Akane starts flirting back, and instead of using Aoi to motivate Teru he uses himself. “Help me save her and I might take you up on that offer for a date.” And then they do go on a date, at the school festival right before everything turns to shit

Adding to that, in this au I imagine Aoi and Akane are the ones betrothed in the new timeline. This brings in conflict bcuz let’s say Akane used to have feelings for Aoi but those faded over time, it’s all platonic between them now as opposed to what we see in canon. So he has the opportunity to either be with the girl he used to love, the girl he’s been with all his life, his safety blanket…or go back to the boy who’s stolen his heart. Damn that was cheesy, I’m cooking here

Kako also becomes Teru’s father figure btw bcuz he needs one. And despite his dislike for supernaturals, Teru adores Mirai bcuz she reminds him of Tiara. Found family ftw

Thanks for the ask, I hadn’t thought much abt this au before but now I’ve gotten myself invested

[muniimyg]

heyy idk if anyone ever asked u this before so i am gonna ask lol !

which one of your works do u love the most and why :>

not in order

your universe: i rlly liked the concept. its an easy read, characters are easy to digest, but it also had that element of push and pull in terms of their romance. it’s not really meant to be specific and super detailed (again because it’s supposed to be an easy read), so when i recall little concepts like their names (ace & aki), their contact names (fermented cum), and their setting in general was really fun for me. i’ve always liked writing uni au’s but this one hit the spot. i also remember it fondly because my readers were super into it! the interactions made writing the story so fun and it’s how i got close with 2 of my favourite readers 😋

nonsense: god this jimin was so sexy to me. the idea of 2 virgins being each others fwb ,, and then add the enemies to lovers vibe because of academic rivalry?? sounds like a lot but their dynamic jus worked. it flowed so well and even tho the story has the least interactions; i had such a good time writing it. i remember writing majority of it at the airport during my trip to toronto. it felt like i was truly writing for fun and didn’t feel much in terms of the pressure to make it as good as my last fic or to update as consistently. overall so precious to me because of the process!

left on read / close to you / all at once: ok let’s get into it LOL

lor jk’s lore is so sweet to me! like wdym you’re a ppl pleaser and the only person you want to actually please hates you 😭 the sunshine boy x grumpy girl duo is elite to me. the first draft i had of them was made soooo long ago. it was supposed to be the first fic i ever posted but it turned out to be the 3rd or smt.

c2u jk is iconic. like in terms of growth as a writer, i think this fic showcases that. from the way i write smut to the actual flow and pacing for this fic—i’ve honestly never been so proud of myself. not to mention how much this fic was supported. i was literally going thru it, thinking i was done writing fanfics cos i was a) out of ideas b) didn’t think there were anymore readers for me (silly, i know) but it was so interesting to see how suddenly all eyes were on c2u jk. i’m beyond thankful for the readers i met along the way and all the laughs. i felt like i was able to explore more in terms of my freakiness but also push my content quality. it’s also one of the very few smau i have that the texts are mainly focused between jk and oc so incorporating that comedic relief was hehe haha

aao jk i feel is like if lor and c2u jk had a baby. i impulsively wrote and posted aao jk cos i felt like i had to cleanse my mind from how nasty c2u turned me. he’s so funny and comforting, i’m so glad everyone got the boyfriend feels! i also had such a fun time writing it and was impressed with myself for keeping up with the updates and flow. it was meant to be a one shot but obviously it turned out to be even more… wouldn’t have it any other way 🌟

my other faves: please love me kth, chaebol jk (it pissed so many ppl off LOL), and bbydaddy jk… paraluman is pure trauma but has to be on this list because IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW.

[delugyu]

pls share where you learned about astrology! i want to learn how to read my friends’ charts

gladly!! bunch of resources under the cut 🤍

i LOVE astrolibrary.org, it’s super beginner friendly and i took a lot of my first astrology notes off that website lol. it has pretty much all the basic info, and it covers everything in a pretty easy to understand way

i found this book helpful once i had a basic understanding of the planets, signs, and houses, but this book also has a lot of haters so 😭 to each their own! it was cool to me, but i don’t subscribe to every concept the author writes about. the general stuff is pretty good

astro.com is many people’s favorite for good reason, they’ve got great resources. i learned about aspects there, which took a while for me to understand, but their explanations were actually really helpful. they also have a side website astrowiki which has an explanation to pretty much any concept you’d like

there’s a lot of great tumblr blogs for astrology too: aqua737, astrosky33, crystalsenergy, and etherealdiva, to name a few favorites. i used to scroll through “astrology masterlist” posts on tumblr and just click every link lol. take some astrology posts here with a grain of salt, though, cause not everyone is super informed and there’s plenty of ppl just making stuff up 😭

i also find astrology forums pretty helpful. i’d sometimes go on the reddit page for astrology, but i also like more specific ones like lindaland. fair warning tho there are some crazy people there LMFAO but there’s also some really interesting and cool info to be found.

i love the astrology podcast, which you can find on youtube! i would sit down, listen and take notes for like fifteen minutes at a time, because any more than that was too much at once to digest lol. those videos really helped solidify my understanding of astrological concepts though, and it convinced me to use the whole house system instead of placidus. but yeah love their stuff!

not a resource but a general tip of mine: dig deep into one specific thing that interests you! let’s say you find yourself really intrigued by the idea of house rulers—okay, now you go search “first house ruler in the first house”. find a good blog, take notes. “first house ruler in the second house” same thing. going on and on and until you covered all the areas. zeroing in on certain concepts that you actually find fun will help inspire you to learn more about other concepts

there’s soooo many great resources i’ve used over the years and i’m so bummed i can’t remember all of them, but i hope this list gives you a good starting point!!! i’m literally so happy to get someone started on their astrology journey lol have fun friend!

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume ! apologies for being so late, the universe really put me through the wringer today (i’m all good now luvs)

dominic is super cute, he looks like a masc version of vida. i just want ruby tho (and his personality made it much easier to turn him down lol. i prefer sweetie pies & people who are divas in a fun way, a camp way. you get what i mean ?)

my initial thought with that MC having a nightmare scene was “FB should just pivot to single LI content à la Choices, if they’re gonna be too damn lazy to give every LI the same amount of effort as the one that’s clearly their favourite,“ but i actually wouldn’t want them to implement that. for one, FB wouldn’t even bother making their theoretical single LI gender customisable 😭

raunchy races was boring af. i know there’s only so much you can do with that challenge, but i’m sure there could be more interesting things than just repeating “the most *adjective* person kiss the most *adjective* person” ... anyways, i think MC did something with zac but i actually don’t remember what. then she kissed ruby for “the coolest girl must kiss the person they have the deepest connection with” (and FB is so unserious for having dominic act heartbroken over MC kissing ruby. not even being single can give wlw players a break from that *partner looks sad while watching you* shit 😭)

MC won MVP so she gets to write a (very pointless) letter, anna was lurking outside the beach hut and acting shady af so i already knew that she messed with the letter in some capacity

zac is very sweet, i love silly moments like this

kenzo finds a letter from the villa to MC (apparently the name is illegible but i'd be surprised if it wasn't from our partner lol) anyways, it’s revealed that anna added her letter to MC’s, which is an interesting choice 😭 if she really wanted to be a supervillain about it she could’ve just wrote a letter pretending to be MC, and then hid the one that we actually made (that’s what i thought was happening when kenzo got the bottle) i'm not complaining tho, i’m glad she didn’t do that because there’s already enough pointless drama going on

esme talks to MC about her relationship woes (why was this paywalled ??) unfortunately there’s no “Me” option, so i just told her that she should be with kenzo. i don’t think our choice will even matter but he is obviously the better option for her. i'll manifest that she comes to her senses

the speed dates were certainly dates 😭 kenzo completely ignored us, dom was weird, reid was a loser, and we barely had time to talk to zac because we got a text saying that the dates were over. also, this would've been a perfect opportunity for MC to have an actual date with ruby 🤦🏽 shout out to kenzo though, i also like trance music

once again, FB should’ve just made dom an ex if they’re gonna act like he’s our ex. based on what’s been revealed so far he just seems like somebody that became creepily obsessed with a woman he met at an architecture seminar…😭 i wish we got enemies-to-lovers from competent writers (for the sake of my own sanity i’m just gonna headcanon that they were close childhood friends, the job situation destroyed their friendship. some shit like that)

i told ruby i would share a bed with her, and then dominic pulls me for a chat and asks if we can share a bed ? your gorgeous big brown eyes won’t sway me bruv 😒

ruby pulls us for a chat, and she tells us about the time she went on a mystery holiday, she ended up in a rainforest in brazil. thank the stars she's not sticking with callum. i hope he gets dumped, but ruby’s partner could be the one that brings in the post-casa female LI (assuming that we even get one)

next up is a party, and a blindfolded kissing challenge. i don't know if dominic always kisses MC, or if it's just whoever you guess, but i chose him because it seemed like the kind of bullshit he would pull. for the girls' turn i paid gems to kiss zac because i didn’t want to kiss reid 😭

after that is some raunchy races movie night, i guess. snoozefest. our partner is definitely back in the villa, that's good for any OG LI girlies who were worried (even tho FB already did this fake dumping nonsense before)

MC shares a bed with ruby, and goes skinny dipping with her !

next volume is gonna be stick or twist, i am tired of this man !!!! mind you, every few volumes there's some sort of scene that's basically ruby asking MC if we still want to explore our connection (and in the last season, people who didn't get the gesture from lisbeth were locked out of her route) in other words : FB managed to have an 'i'll leave you alone if you don't want me" system for the girls, so why not the guys as well ?

overall, i’m not looking forward to stick or twist 😭 of course, we already know we have to twist. i just wonder if we’ll actually get to decide our partner. we probably won’t be able to choose kenzo, but we have had the chance to flirt with zac and reid. if all of the girls twist i feel like there's gonna be a situation where they’ll go before MC, choose their respective “past guy,” and leave MC (who has to twist) only being able to pick dominic. ughhhh

[rookamell]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @flowersforthemachines for always tagging me in these! They make my day every time! Also @serensama and @hightowerqueen i hope you see the edited tags!

How many works do you have on AO3?

12! I'm relatively new to actually publishing my fic. I only published the first one last July

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

180,854

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Just Sweet Enough, Other Plans for the Evening, I Think of You, By Firelight, Pawn to F4: King's Gambit. Granted, not a lot of kudos, but I'm still proud of the writing :)

4. What fandoms do you write for?

That I've published? BG3, Dragon Age, ASOIAF

That I have not published? LOTR, Stormlight Archive, Discworld

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I try to respond to all of them, because each comment is a balm to my soul, a blessing, a chorus of angels singing to me from the heavens! Especially if I get feedback

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

it's definitely Familiar Territory. I don't really write angsty endings sorry my life is hard enough as is. I need true love to prevail and a nice sunset for my blorbos to ride off into.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them have happy endings as per the last question. I think it's a tie between One Small Freckle and Just Sweet Enough.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope :)

9. Do you write smut?

I have exactly one smut fic published which is I Think of You which turned into the most awkward, least enticing smut I've ever beheld with my own two eyes and I partly blame my inexperience and partly blame the two idiot characters I was writing about. I do write more smut than will ever see the light of day because I'm just not confident enough about it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, I tend to hyperfixate so it's difficult for me to have two sets of characters in my head at once.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had a poem stolen but not a fic as far as I know

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No I haven't! It sounds fun in theory but my writing and time I have to do it in are so sporadic I think it would be hell trying to do.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Fitzloved

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

In the Wake of Saving the World

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told consistently that I get character voices down very well. Which is honestly my favourite type of compliment to get because character voices are super important to me. I want to get to a Joe Abercrombie level of perfecting character voices. First priority is always to write in a way that makes people go 'he would absolutely fucking say that'.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

everything else I'm trying to get better at writing action scenes. I also think I'm not wonderful at pacing but we're getting there I hope.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I always think in theory it's a cool idea but I've never actually found a place where it truly works better than just... saying the characters are speaking in a different language? Maybe the only exception is LOTR fics, I've seen elvish done really well. Other than that, I only speak one other language and maybe two other people in the world speak it so there's really no point. On top of that I don't want to get syntax and grammar wrong so I'd rather just explain that characters are speaking in a different language. I have nothing against other people doing it tho! :) in fact I really enjoy seeing other languages in fics. As for writing fics in another language... like I said there's maybe five other people who speak my language and I doubt they're reading fanfics lol.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Published was ASOIAF. The first time I wrote fanfiction in general was when I was nine and desperately in love with Legolas so I made a self-insert oc for LOTR. Before knowing that's what Inwas doing.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

That's tough. I think it goes to One Small Freckle because I love the imagery and the prose I used in it I think. But that's a tough question.

Ok! Tagging whoever wants to join in on this and also @corvus-frugilegus @haedia @saessenach and @pixiedurango if you want to!

[kirkwallguy]

do you have recommendations for rpgs? i have only played bg3, dragon age, and mass effect. also nothing is more important than romance to me sorry to serious people

yess! this post from the other day is a good starting point (and i think op has some similar lists on their blog) but here are a few that would be good to get started with if you want to branch out:

(btw, these are only games i've played - there are a few i see recced a lot that i haven't gotten around to yet lol)

divinity: original sin 2 - you've probably heard of this if you're into bg3, but it's worth trying. the gameplay is very similar, except it doesn't use a d&d ruleset or have any animated cutscenes. there are romancable companions, but they work differently to bg3 in the sense that you have to choose your party composition early in the game and stick with it, which is fun for replayability imo. i don't think the companions are as interesting as the ones in bg3 either but they all have interesting stories that run parallel to the main plot

pathfinder: wrath of the righteous - wotr is another crpg, imo it can be a little hard to wrap your head around at first compared to bg3, but once you're past the learning curve it's really fun. the writing and companions are all really interesting and it's great for letting you roleplay as a wide range of characters and moralities - some of the romances go deep into sicko territory which is great for me personally. there's a ton of reactivity as well, each "path" (your specialisation) has its own set of quests and will affect your relationships with companions. nobody will love you if you become a lich :( . the main issue with the game tho is it's bloated and long (i've literally never finished a run because i get distracted 80 hours in) but it's worth the time you put into it imo

baldurs gate 1 & 2 - these games are kind of dated but if you can handle dao, you can probably manage them? it took me a few tries to get a feel for the first one, but once i got into it i played through both games without stopping lol. they're real time with pause like origins and only the second one has romance (though the ee version adds romancable companions that appear in both games which is fun).

pillars of eternity 1 & 2 - honestly, i'm not super into these games but other people really like them and i understand why. they're a really good modernisation of the original baldurs gate / infinity engine games with a narrative that lots of people are into. the first game has no romance and is real time with pause, while the second game will let you romance characters (some of them reappear from the first game, so i guess you can treat it like a realllly slow burn) and play either real time with pause or turn based.

disco elysium - okay, there's technically no romance but it's so good that i'll rec it anyway. it's a crpg but has no actual combat, the writing and story are really unique and it's just a great experience to have.

enderal: forgotten stories special edition - this game is really hard to recommend because it makes me sound crazy but please hear me out. this skyrim mod is maybe one of the best games i've ever played. if you have skyrim special edition you can download and run it for free, mechanically it runs pretty much like skyrim but the writing and story are insane. the romances are also good, there are only two main ones but they're very tied to the plot.

skyrim...?: if you haven't already played skyrim and you want to get it for enderal then it's also worth playing anyway. it's my horrible wife that poisons me whenever i try to divorce her but it's a fun experience. the romance is pretty shit but there are some good mods with romancable companions (i like gore, he reminds me of marcus lol). it has a lot of the same issues in its writing as dai does, but the world is designed so well that i can play for hundreds of hours just doing my own thing and ignoring the main quest

there are LOADS more but these are just a fun starting point based on liking bioware and bg3, hope you enjoy!

[inferencesarchives]

Slithers up to you like a snake

What about a reader who's like a parental figure to Walnut?

Like.. They help Almond babysit her whole he's working

🦎

Take Care

almond x gn reader

summary: some hcs about almond having a s/o that helps take care of walnut

warnings: idk i don't think there's any

ok first off just a quick general hc here. this guy is absolutely smitten for you. like you can't tell me this guy isn't a huge simp for his s/o (he would never admit it tho)

^because of how much he loves, he didn't think it was possible for him to fall even harder for you than he already has. but when you offered to help take care of walnut, boy was he head over heels.

he's so grateful that you're willing to help him and that you're so kind to his daughter.

walnut cookie absolutely loves you. she is like so attached to you. she's so happy that you get to be her new parent kinda

walnut cookie always likes to talk to you about her hobbies and other stuff she's been getting into lately. she's always so happy when she gets to talk to you aaaaa :,))

^also hc that walnut likes to draw but is a beginner and really wants to improve. whenever you compliment one of her doodles she just explodes with joy!!

almond is so happy that walnut trusts you and that the two of you get to spend time together. he loves the both of you so much and he would give both of you the world if he could.

bonus: once, almond came home to find both of you asleep at the kitchen table next to walnut's unfinished homework (lol)

a/n: sorry it's kinda short but this was super cute and i had a lot of fun writing itttttt ty 🦎 anon for ur amazing ideas <33 also im still trying to kick writers block in the shins so that's mainly why things are super short rn but hopefully once i finish my last request and take some time to actually rest and redo some stuff on my blog ill be good to go and start writing again :]

thanks for stopping by!

wanna submit a request? see my requesting rules- oh where did they go oh dear they ran away oh no- oh, here they are!

[tickly-trashcan]

Headcanon requests open? :O

Wanderer/Scaramouche please from Genshin Impact :3

A/N: ahhh our fav lil guy heheheee thank you for the request!! i've done headcanons of Scaramouche before linked here, but I'll add on a little bit here!! i think i'm through Sumeru but i don't remember it very well so apologies if the lore isn't super accurate here LOL

okay so i think he's got very ticklish knees i did not point that out yet but his knees? crazy. get him there.

he's got a silly laugh!! very squeaky and cutesy and he probs snorts too which he hates

i think once he becomes the Wanderer he's much more chill and less evil! erm... to summarize it very poorly! but that also means hes not as averse to tickles i bet

when he was one of the harbingers he would kick and scream and threaten your life if you tickled him and thats not all gone but now he is a bit more polite with his threats! lol

i bet Nahida has given him his fair share of tickles and i think they actually get into tickle fights sometimes!!

Nahida almost always wins ofc but that doesnt stop Wanderer from giving it his best shot

The Aranara also LOVE to tickle Wanderer don't look at me i'm a sucker for silly little forest friends being tickly

when the Aranara tickle him he kind of just... lets it happen... because he cannot for the life of him kick and flail because he doesnt want to send them flying

he is still very giggly and laughs his head off despite this which only encourages them to tickle him

I bet him and the Traveler also tickle each other a bit now that hes gotten better hehe

With Lumine, he gets tickled more often, but with Aether its more of a tickle fight or back and forth on who's tickling who

I think he's initially still pretty embarrassed about tickling and being tickled but the combo of Nahida and the Traveler help him realize it's not a bad thing

they also probably help him realize that it's not a weakness and that it's okay to let loose and have fun and that helps him enjoy it a bit more

he will still kick and flail and holler if ur not an Aranara tho hehe

ahh i hope these were okayyy! have a lovely day anon i really loved writing this hehehe!! :D