#but also...it has been the only constant in my life for the past two years

[dykrophone]

literally @ physics

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories: Too Late For Remorse

(Prequel)

Yandere Ex Husband x Countess Fem Reader

TW: time regression, cheating (mentioned), yandere, delusional behavior, etc.

“No!” (Your name) shot up from her bed, body covered in a cold sheen of sweat. Her lungs were on fire while her breathing was labored. Her hands fumbled at her neck as her heart pounded in her chest harder than a hammer against wood. She was alive… but how? She had been poisoned by her husband’s mistress…

(Your name) clambered from her silken sheets. The young lady nearly tripped on the fabric from her haste, but she had to scramble to the mirror… she had to make sure.

(Your name) gasped at her reflection in shock. She was twenty again… no longer was she the sullen, neglected thirty year old wife of Duke Blackburn. She was once again the young Countess (Last name)! She had the means to start over again.

(Your name) sunk to her knees as she smiled at her ceiling. A few tears fell down her cheeks as she sucked in a shaky breath. She wouldn’t waste this second chance, no. She’d get her engagement annulled and live a peaceful life this time… no matter who she had to eliminate. (Your name) would pay her fiancé and his mistress back ten fold for their betrayal.

.

.

.

(Your name) cut up her breakfast with the smallest of smiles on her lips. A week had passed since her time regression and her personality has done a complete one eighty.

No longer was Countess (your name) naive and meek, she was a brighter existence with a determination to learn more knowledge. A change that startled the people around her… especially her father.

Her father, the count, seemed quite curious on the sudden change in his only daughter. (Your name) had always been a young woman interested in romance and fairytales, yet that girl was no longer sat in front of him… she was a stranger now.

“My dear, are you not interested in any sweets?” Count (last name) softly asked his daughter who hadn’t touched any of the desserts presented before her. “These have always been your favorite…”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in sweets anymore.” (Your name) gave her father a soft smile. It wasn’t a lie, she lost her love of sweets in her past life when her husband had made constant comments on her body over the years.

Count (last name) frowned before he sighed. “You also haven’t sent Trishan any letters recently… is everything okay between you two?”

Ah yes… Trishan was his name. (Your name) had called him Duke Blackburn for so long that she had forgotten his name…

“I don’t think he liked me that much is all, father.” (Your name) replied softly. “Plus he’s been awfully close to Lady Serpico’s daughter, Lady Gia.”

Count (last name)’s expression quickly darkened at the mention of Lady Serpico. That nightmare of a woman had damaged the reputation of his wife many years ago before they had gotten married… could she have sent her daughter to try to do the same to his darling (your name)? Was this why she had been acting so strange? Had Duke Blackburn made his daughter feel inferior to a snake?

“I will look into it, my dear daughter.” Her father rose from the table to pat his daughter’s head in an affectionate manner. “I love you so much dear… don’t you ever forget that.”

Of course (your name) hadn’t forgotten that, that’s why she used her father’s love to her advantage. Perhaps he could free her from this fate if he annulled the engagement once he found out about the affair?

(Your name) calmly slipped her tea as a ghost of a smile crawled on her lips. She’s moved her first chest piece, she wondered if her dear fiancé would enjoy the shame?

.

.

.

Trishan shoved all the papers off his desk, his hands clutched at his chest while he struggled to breathe. Where was his fiancée? His darling fiancée?

Trishan’s blue eyes scanned the papers in hopes to spot a letter from her, the ones she used to always send him during this time.

He’s returned to the past before he was blinded by greed… before his long affair with Gia Sherpico… before (your name)’s murder. He could make it all right now since he had the chance to be the husband his beautiful, loyal wife deserved!

Trishan frowned when he hadn’t found any new letters. Was (your name) in good health? She was always such a frail woman… perhaps he should go visit her? Yes! She’d probably be so happy, she always had such a beautiful smile.

Trishan began to gather up all of the papers with a smile on his face. He had already ended things with lady Gia the moment he returned to the past, that snakelike woman wouldn’t pull the rug under him this time! He would not let her sweet lies fill his head and turn him against his darling wife. His innocent wife who had done nothing but love him…

Trishan couldn’t bear to find (your name)’s cold body again… he couldn’t live with himself if she died again. If her lips were blue and she laid in a pile of her own blood like some grotesque halo. No, he would protect her this time!

Trishan sighed dreamily at the thought of this second chance. He’d visit her this weekend with her favorite flowers, baby’s breath! They do mean every lasting love, after all!

A shame Trishan failed to realize was that a large bundle of baby’s breath smelled like feet…

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, but my daughter doesn’t wish to see you.” Trishan felt his blood run cold when he was denied entry into the Count’s home. (Your name) didn’t want to see him? This had to be some sort of sick joke! Yes… that was it.

“Very funny, Count (last name).” Trishan waved off the count as he tried to enter the estate anyways. His large bouquet of baby’s breath caused Count (Last name) even more ire.“(Your name) will be thrilled I’m here-“

“My daughter doesn’t deserve a man who can’t keep it in his pants and someone who’s gift her a bouquet that smells like feet.” The count shoved Duke Blackburn back a few steps, the baby’s breath now laid in a puddle of petals at his feet. “Good day to you!”

Trishan could only stand there in shock, his hands clutched at his chest while his breathing was ragged. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… they were supposed to start over. They were meant to be.

Trishan tried to gather up the flowers in haste but they were already too trampled to fix… he’d have to get her a new bouquet. Perhaps a better scented one at that?

Trishan glanced up at the door, hopeful that this was all a big misunderstanding. (Your name) could never hate him… her father must be keeping her away from him.

[phefics]

veritaserum

ship: fred weasley x reader x george weasley summary: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. warnings: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) word count: 1.9k

Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.

There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.

You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.

It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.

As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.

Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.

“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.

“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”

“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.

It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.

“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.

“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”

You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.

The twins both erupted into giggles.

“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”

“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.

“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.

“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”

You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.

What you did manage to say was, “Why?”

Both twins shrugged.

“For fun,” Fred said.

“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.

“About what?”

“About which of us you like better.”

You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”

“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”

George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”

“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”

Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.

Both twins seemed rather touched, though

“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”

You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”

“No, we have more questions!”

“Such as…?”

“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.

Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.

“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.”

Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you’d want it.”

You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”

The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.

“Do you want that? Now?” Fred asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you breathed. 

They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.

George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.

You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.

Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.

“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”

You nodded, whimpering softly.

“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”

You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”

George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.

Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.

“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.

“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan.

Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.

“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Good. You gonna cum for him?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—”

It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.

“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”

Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.

The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.

“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”

You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.

Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.

Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.

“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.

You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.

George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.

Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.

“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.

You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.

“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.

Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.

[northern-passage]

there's a scammer on here that's copy and pasted the entirety of Hashem Safi's story and is attempting to use it to pass off their gofundme as legitimate, so i wanted to bring attention to Safi's real gfm, especially because it is so close to its goal.

this gofundme has been vetted by humanity for gaza on instagram, #425 on their linktree here.

Hashem Ziyad Safi is a medical student at IUG, and was half-way through his medical studies before Israel's genocidal attack on Gaza.

He is fundraising for his family: his father, mother, two brothers-- Ahmed and Abdullah-- his younger sister Misk, and his older sister Yara and her 9-month old daughter who was born only a week before the war.

In Hashem's own words:

Before the war, we really lived a beautiful life. We had our dreams, our goals, our home, and a wonderful life, but everything is truly over now. 

Yara studied IT and graduated university just before the war, she is a painter and loves to draw.

Ahmed was in his last year of high school and loves video games - he used to be introverted and youthful, but this war has forced him to become a man. 

Misk is in middle school, she loves reading, reciting, cooking, and writing - we admire her for spending her time in the war still reading as much as she can. 

Abdullah, my youngest brother, is just a child - he cannot understand the horrors we are enduring and is struggling with severe depression.

And I was passionately studying medicine, so eager to achieve my dream…

The university Hashem was studying at has now been completely destroyed by Israel, as well as the family's home. They have been displaced 6 times since the invasion began, and continue to live in fear of having to run yet again.

Hashem's mother and younger brothers are now sick from the contaminated water, and Hashem is having trouble breathing due to all of the smoke and debris from Israel's constant bombing. Recently, he also sustained an injury to his leg and has been unable to receive adequate care due to malnutrition and lack of appropriate medical supplies.

The family has raised €25,314 raised of €30,000 goal. Please consider donating and sharing to help them in this final push to meeting their goal!!

[lonniemachin]

I was asked to help share Maram's fundraiser. She is a young displaced Palestinian mother urgently raising money to evacuate she and her family from Gaza. She has only raised €225 out of her €30,000 goal so far! Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Maram's GFM:

‏Hi, my name is Maram. I am 28 years old. I am a Palestinian from Gaza City.A mother for 3 kids. This is my husband, Ahmed, and my children are Habiba, four years old, kareem, two years old, and Mohammad, nine months old. ‏My family and I went through very difficult circumstances in Gaza after October 7th ‏

It’s painful to say that we lost everything. But yes

we did! We lost our beautiful homeland with all its memories, we lost our job, we lost our lives and our dreams. We evacuated our house with only a small bag of clothes before it was bombed and destroyed. So technically YES we have lost EVERYTHING, from the biggest to the smallest little detail.

We have been displaced 6 times. My children left our home for the first time and moved to another home, and then we moved with the family to another, less safe home. Then the army ordered us to flee to southern Gaza, so we fled to the ground, then we ended up fleeing to a small tent and sleeping on the sand. ‏

My family suffers from a lack of food, especially ‏the children. My child, Mohammed, who is 9 months old, ran out of breast milk due to malnutrition, and the price of infant formula has doubled. Kareem and Habiba saw the simplest thing that could be available to children, which is apples, so they screamed and cried, wanting an apple, but the price of one apple reached 10 dollars or more!! ‏In addition, there was also a lack of healthy drinking water, which caused them severe stomach pain and diseases such as hepatitis A.

‏Due to the conditions imposed by the occupation, the siege, and the lack of resources, it has become difficult for my family to provide the children with basic and simple needs, such as diapers. It is difficult to provide all the needs, and due to the poor quality of the types of diapers available, my children suffered from a skin problem ‏ My family also suffers from not having a bathroom or even a shower. We can only shower once a month using a bucket due to lack of water. There is no electricity or gas either. ‏Every morning, I wash my children's clothes in cold water and spread the clothes out in the open air. If there is food, it is cooked on firewood, which is completely unhealthy and tastes bad. Me and my husband shared a beautiful life together. Our home was always filled with love and laughter. My children are the most precious thing I have in my life. ‏ Our lives were once full of dreams and hopes, but the never-ending cycle of conflict in Gaza shattered those dreams. Now our only goal is to survive. ‏ While others dream of the future, we long for the past, remembering the life we once lived before the horrors of war tore it apart.

‏I have hesitated to ask for financial assistance for several months, but the reality is that life in Gaza has become impossible in the near future. With schools destroyed and opportunities disappearing, our only chance for a better life lies beyond these borders. ‏ My only hope is to save my little family and we need €30,000 to make it out of Gaza, to start a new life from scratch. It is very difficult to leave homeland, but we are forced To get out of Gaza. Your kindness can make a big difference to us. Your donation, no matter how small, will help us escape the constant fear and uncertainty that has plagued our lives for so long. If you're not able to donate, simply sharing our campaign with your friends, family and social networks can also have a huge impact. ‏Together, we can give my children the opportunity to grow up in a world free of the horrors of war. Your kindness will help us build a brighter future and restore hope to a family that has endured so much suffering. ‏ Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your sympathy and support! Your contributions will not only change our lives, but will also provide hope to countless people affected by similar circumstances.

[mattluvr]

dad!matt, a concept.

best read in dark mode ⏾

🧸 part i — the pregnancy. . .

ᡣ𐭩 when you and your boyfriend of two years find out you’re pregnant, you’re both scared, naturally; young and only freshly moved into your first apartment together, this big step in life is not one you’re prepared to take.

but, when matt cradles your stomach from the second he saw that lethal second line on the pregnancy test, soft eyebrows and tears pricking his waterline, you start to consider the possibility of raising a kid with him. maybe he’ll be a good father, nurturing your child with his whole heart. it’s only something you can picture, but at the image, something within you lights up with sunshine. so you decide to keep the baby.

you want this with matt; in fact, as you share happy tears with the boy pressing you into his chest in a hug, you realise that you don’t think you’d want to do it with anybody else.

ᡣ𐭩 you announce it to your family first, more accepting than you thought about the situation, and your mom, despite her strict parenting style growing up and her imprinted frown lines across her forehead, even pulls you aside to tell you that you have her full support and availability if anything was to go wrong. which makes you cry. obviously; you’re fucking pregnant.

matt’s family are also just as accepting, but that’s no surprise; his parents have always loved you, certain that you’re made for each other, and his triplet brothers are simply pumped to be uncles. especially nick, who, ever the sensitive person, bursts into tears at the announcement.

chris elbows him in the side. “you big crybaby. this is meant to be something to celebrate.”

“i am happy. just have dust in my eye, that’s all.” nick shoots back, and you giggle. you can’t wait for the fun uncle this pregnancy is going to bring out in both brothers.

ᡣ𐭩 the first few weeks are rocky, the toilet bowl your best friend as morning sickness lines your stomach. but, with matt’s constant presence by your side, a reassuring hand pressed into the small of your back, it feels manageable. his lips, softer than you ever remember are forever attached to yours, whispering praise into your mouth. you swear the love for your boyfriend has doubled since you fell pregnant with his baby.

then, suddenly, it’s your first scan, and the sonogram has made you cry for the umpteenth time in the past week. the picture is a simple white blob against a black background, but it’s still the prettiest you’ve ever seen. you want to hang it up on every wall in your apartment, tattoo it on your heart. it suddenly feels overwhelmingly real, but still manageable. after all, matt is clasping your hand by your side, silently sobbing.

“it’s tiny.” he whispers, pointing to what is the assumed baby’s head.

you smile, squeezing his hand as you meet his watery gaze. “it’s ours.”

and the love triples.

ᡣ𐭩 you find out the gender at the next scan, and decide to surprise matt with one of those cake reveals you’ve been seeing all over your tiktok. it’s just you and him in the house, an all white, three tiered cake sat between you on the kitchen counter. matt’s nervous, his hands shaking as he moves to cut a slice out, but you’re over the moon. you can already anticipate his excitement over the pink inside.

although it is orange when matt pulls the slice out, and you both look at one another, bursting out laughing. “it’s meant to be pink.” you say with a smile, and matt nods, pulling you into his side.

“yeah i gathered.” then it sinks in for the boy, his eyes widening. “holy shit. we’re having a baby girl.”

you laugh and then cry. it’s all you seem to be able to do recently. “we’re having a fucking girl.”

and as you sob even harder, matt kisses your temple in a soothing manner, smiling. “you’re gonna be the best mom ever, baby.”

ᡣ𐭩 the morning sickness wears off after your first trimester, but brings with it bouts of tiredness and a showing bump. the latter you don’t mind in the slightest, even convincing matt to do a soft launch of the pregnancy on your instagram story. the feedback on the mirror selfie, matt positioned behind you, arms gently caressing your bump, is insane, and suddenly you find yourself in one of the car videos he films for his youtube, talking about the pregnancy to the camera on the dashboard.

“HOW BIG?!” nick is shouting, shocked when you tell him you have to be dilated the size of a ben and jerry’s ice cream tub lid before you can push your daughter out.

“10 centimetres, nick. i might die.”

“oh my god, don’t say that.” matt suddenly looks worried, reaching back to grab your hand. “i’ll have a panic attack.”

you roll your eyes and squeeze his hand, your special way of grounding him. “i’ll try and not die for you, babe.”

“‘preciate it.”

chris interrupts, brow furrowed. “but you’re gonna have painkillers whilst you do it, right? so it shouldn’t hurt that much…”

“actually, i want to try and do it without any medication. completely natural.”

all three boys look shocked. “WHAT?!”

ᡣ𐭩 your second trimester is uneventful, and your bump is growing bigger by the day. by the time you’re 30 weeks along, you’re sick and tired, wanting nothing more than the baby to just free itself. matt is working harder than ever, on his brand and with his brothers on his youtube channel, and there are days where you don’t see him until the late evening, when you’re so wiped out you can barely keep your eyes open for more than 20 seconds.

so, to make it up to you, matt comes home every night with a new piece of clothing for your daughter. the other night was one of your favourites, the eeyore fleece he’d found in the thrift so small and so adorable that you bolted wide awake and insisted on putting it in the nursery.

you’d already painted and built the furniture for the baby’s room, completed a few weeks back, so now it was simply the case of organising everything into closets and mounting pictures onto walls, including that first ultrasound.

ᡣ𐭩 at 35 weeks, you feel a pain like you’re never felt before, excruciating, and you’re sure your in labour. matt rushes to get the remnants of your hospital bag ready, panicking when you double over in the kitchen, hand against the counter to steady yourself.

the car ride there is scarier than the prospect of you having your baby earlier than planned, however, matt screeching round the corners and getting at least 3 tickets for speeding just to make sure that you get to the hospital in time.

for nothing, by the way. the labour is false, your baby just moving her head so that its downwards. which is a good thing, you know, but you’re not quite sure the pain was worth it. matt faces the consequences of two fines, and you’re back home within five hours, deciding to pack your hospital bag.

who knows when you might go into actual labour?

ᡣ𐭩 but, four weeks later, you’re still fucking pregnant. you’re due in exactly 7 days, and now you’re just restless, all your clothes too small and every sensation overwhelming. even matt burrowing his face into your neck when watching a movie, as he always does, sets you on edge, and you push him away, frowning.

“i’m too warm for cuddles, matt.”

“oh, sorry.” matt throws you an apologetic smile, and scoots closer. he rubs your belly, which always calms you down, moving his hands down to lift your bump up, bringing you instant relief.

“fuck, that feels really good. thank you.”

“anything for my girl.” matt mumbles, and presses a kiss to your neck. you suddenly don’t detest his closeness anymore.

ᡣ𐭩 one week later, on october 22nd, at exactly 6am in the morning, you feel a gush of liquid between your legs and sit bolt upright in bed. your waters have just broken; you’re having the fucking baby.

( author’s note. . . omfg i forgot to tag oops)

this is for my babygirls @mattslolita, @middlepartmatt and @chrissturniolossidehoe 😛🔥

[soobrat]

fuck up my life; hjs

milestone celebration masterlist

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; han jisung x afab!reader (+ lee know)

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 12.3k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; smut, angst!!!

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; very toxic relationship, two deplorable dirty cheaters, public sex, mutual masturbation, choking, very rough sex, bondage, ball gag, unprotected sex, slut shaming, large cock, dubcon(? just to be safe), slapping, squirting, spanking, biting, casual sex, you're going to hate mc and Jisung they're horrible people and just when you think it can't get worse hooooo boy

↻ ◁ || ▷ : If you can't set aside your morals for a story centered around two cheaters, I don't blame you, but this fic ain't for you lol. This is the first part of the second story! I'm so late to 1.5k that we're close to 2k, so I can't wait to start writing that one. Right now I'll just focus on the other two parts of this :*)

act i ➻ yeah right

Your blue eyeshadow was too flashy. Your cut crease and eyeliner too sharp and intense. Your overlined nude lipstick was downright gaudy. Feeling pleased, you stand from your vanity and inspect your outfit in the full-body mirror to your left. 

The thin silk fabric cinched in slightly at your waist, accentuating your breasts and hips. You’re basically telling men to look at them. Oh, and that slit. You turn to get a better look at it, tsking when you catch a glimpse of the swell of your ass. With how high the slit runs up and how short the dress is to begin with, you might as well just go out in your underwear. You looked like a cheap, tacky whore.

It was perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you adjust the collar of your dress. With there being no sleeves on your dress or anything covering your shoulders, the thick piece of fabric was the only thing keeping you from flashing the entire club. Long strips of silk cascade down your back after you tie it securely around your neck. 

You flounce past your drunken boyfriend on the couch, the loud click and clack of your D’orsay heels taunting him to take a look. He scrambles to sit up and doesn’t bother turning off the TV. He’s annoyed but not that bothered by you leaving the house in this state.

“What, are you going out to find someone to fuck?” He slurs. You spare him by not even glancing once. You’re sure he doesn’t want to be seen when he’s being a belligerent fool. “Huh? Is that what you’re doing? You look like a prostitute!” He yells more frantically when he realizes he’s not deterring you. You snicker before finally looking back at the poor man. His shirt is more stain than polyester and his blue-striped boxers sit crooked on his hips. His hair is a mess and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“‘Twas the goal, my love.” You smile with a wink before leaving him to drink himself to sleep.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You hadn’t been to The Eve in years, since before you were cleansed. You enter and become engulfed by the pulsing music and dancing bodies. Looking around you can’t help but smile. This is where you belong. Across the room is a man who doesn’t share this sentiment. He feels out of place. He glances around nervously at the shameless PDA and lousy dancing. He should be at home with his loving girlfriend. 

Jiwoo is breathtaking. Her expressive eyes and radiant smile keep his lungs in constant lockdown. It’s true that she and Jisung are extremely different. She’s an early bird while he’s a night owl. Her active lifestyle makes Jisung seem sedentary. Also, she doesn’t want to have sex much at all. And when they do have sex, it’s vanilla missionary. At the beginning of their relationship, Jisung was convinced her lifestyle just needed some getting used to. Three years later and he's only gotten less strong-willed. He’s suffocating.

He needs to breathe.

Jisung has been off the market for quite a while now. After moving in with Jiwoo, his priorities shifted. He’s not a kid anymore. It’s time for him to get serious and settle down. So, no, Jisung hasn’t been to a club in a minute. It was all stressing him out, but he was dressed up and he was already here. He should at least get a drink.

One drink becomes two and two become four. Jiwoo would be pissed. He already feels guilty about keeping how he’s feeling a secret, and now he’s drunk and alone. He can already hear her lecturing him. He laughs to himself, forehead thudding on the surface of the bar. 

Everyone around him looks so carefree as they dance and shove their tongues down each other’s throats. How do they do it? Maybe he should get up and try. The dancing part, of course. Maybe he was drunk. Pushing through the sea of bodies was a blur. He was just determined to get somewhere in the middle. The more he’s completely surrounded, the more immersed he feels in the atmosphere. He gets it now, he sways his body to the music.

The people surrounding him brush against him, sometimes even knocking into him. It only helps him levitate higher. With an extended exhale he floats until he’s hovering in the atmosphere. A body brushes against his front, pulling him back down to Earth. His eyes travel down to an ass against his crotch. Electricity crawls up his legs, prickling at his skin. He doesn’t realize his hands are resting on your waist until the fabric of your short dress rides up.

“At least tell me your name before you take my clothes off.” Your voice is sweet, seductive, it makes his head swim. He yanks his hands away and tries to back up only to bump into someone behind him. His body is propelled back into you, and your behind is back against his groin. He groans, hands gripping your upper arms to keep you at a distance. “What’s wrong babe?” His hands slip from your soft skin as you flip around to face him.

The face put to the seductive voice was a near perfect match. There was a look of intrigue behind your alluring gaze as you examined Jisung. He couldn’t help feeling a hint of danger as you looked him over. The way you hold yourself indicates explicitly how confident you are. As your eyes travel back to his face he nearly flinches from the sharpness of your eyes. Did you think he was pathetic? 

Jisung clears his throat and squares his shoulders. Your smirk and snort make him shrivel up again. You lean in with an earnest look on your face.

“You seem like a sweet guy.” You smile before sauntering elsewhere. Jisung looks down, alarmed by his hand reaching out for you. He physically pulls it back with his other hand. His encounter with you sobers him up immediately and he rushes out of the club. What he should be doing is being there for his girlfriend and being upfront with how he feels.

On the way home he chews on his lip, regarding the bulge in his pants nervously. He takes a shower before even thinking of crawling into bed with Jiwoo. He sighs deeply as he joins her under the covers. It’s warm and comforting, despite how his thoughts prod at him. He should wait until the morning instead of waking her. He extends his arm to hold Jiwoo but hesitates. His mouth falls open slightly as he stares at the back of her head.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Jisung. Jisung!” His girlfriend’s annoyed voice jolts him awake. She throws a hand through her messy hair that just falls back around her face. He squints as the sun intrudes his eyesight, it was definitely way too early to be awake. He looks up and smiles groggily.

“Good morning.”

“Don’t good morning me, you made a mess!” She gestures agitatedly at the bed. Jisung pauses before ripping the covers away. The moist feeling against his hip and upper thigh becomes more apparent when he sees his soiled boxers and sheets. He looks up at Jiwoo as she makes a frustrated noise. She pulls the fabric of her nightgown, looking nauseated by the semen coating it. The throb Jisung feels in his groin is downright reprehensible. Whenever they have sex, Jiwoo makes him pull out and cum into his hand. The sight of his semen on her makes him aware that not only did he cum in his sleep, but he’s hard again. 

“Don’t just sit there, clean it up!” Jisung scrambles up from the bed, wrapping the comforter around him when he hears the increasing urgency in her voice. Jiwoo was repulsed by bodily fluids. Saliva, semen, sweat, all of it. She gagged once when he accidentally came in her mouth. The incident made both of them swear off blowjobs. Jisung was completely willing after the look on her face. He felt horrible. Yet here he is, getting turned on while she’s freaking out.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He laments as he rips the sheets off the bed. He watches with remorse as she rushes to the bathroom. His uncomfortable hard-on made him wonder what got him all worked up in the first place. He’s had many dreams where Jiwoo was a nymphomaniac and did unspeakable things to him. Even then, he only woke up with a boner, he never came in his sleep.

Dread fills his body as flashes of his dream enter his mind. That residual heat lingered the entire time he was awake, only now is he realizing where it came from. Images of you with your breasts exposed while bouncing on his cock fill his brain. 

“Such a sweet boy.” You moan lewdly.

Jisung shakes the dream away and clenches his eyes shut. It was because he was drunk. That was all. He loves Jiwoo.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You brace yourself as your hand wraps firmly around the doorknob. With a sharp inhale you push the door open and are immediately greeted with your boyfriend still on the couch. He had cleaned up, it was the afternoon after all, and he fixes you with a disappointed scowl. He takes the time to realize that you’re wearing another man’s shirt again.

“What the fuck-”

He rushes over to you and you raise your arms into the air expectantly. He grits his teeth before pulling the souvenir sweatshirt over your torso and head. This time he doesn’t toss it in the garbage, he angrily throws it to the ground. 

“I thought that would piss you off.” You grin, eyes tracking him as he fumes.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asks exasperatedly. A grimace flickers through your smile but you force it back. “Aren’t you?” You quip back, angling your face closer to his. Your heartbeat accelerates when he doesn’t move away.

“You want me to fuck you? Is that why you’re doing all of this?”

You bite your lip, not shying away from his aggression. “So why don’t you fucking ask like a normal person?” He shoves you backward and you hit the door. A moan is pulled from you involuntarily. He growls, unbuckling his belt before shoving his pants down. His hands are rough as he grips you, spinning you around and pushing you into the door. Anticipation rips through you until you’re close to trembling. He makes quick work of hiking your dress up and moving the shamefully thin fabric to the side. 

“This what you want?” He wraps his arm around your chest before shoving his cock inside you. You moan out, still not answering him. He squeezes your jaw hard with his other hand. “Fucking answer me!” His voice is piercing right next to your ear and you jump, pussy clenching around him. You whimper but your resolve stays intact. He grunts as he continues to fuck you in a position that curves your back uncomfortably. 

“You’re not answering because you know you’re a whore.” His voice wavers under the power of his thrusts. “Did you let him cum inside you?”

“You think I’m disgusting don’t you?” You moan. He doesn’t answer, giving you the same treatment you gave him. He instead wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes until your eyes roll back. He doesn’t speak anymore. The living room fills with grunts, heavy breathing, and the sound of his skin impacting yours. 

He shoots his load inside you with jerky thrusts, tightening his hand around your throat until your hearing and sight get cloudy. He lets you breathe before shoving you away. You gasp in air a little too quickly, losing balance from the shove and falling into a coughing fit. Your knees burn from scraping the floor after the impact. As dread starts to spread, you count in your head; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6-

“Stand up.” His voice sounds uncaring but his hands are gentle as he lifts you off the ground. A genuine smile almost creeps through as you clear your throat. “Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up.” You can hear his bite start to wane. 

He took longer than last time but he still did it. He always comes around. 

Despite what he said, he ends up being the one kneeling between your legs while you sit on the toilet. You wince as he wipes between your folds. The cloth is damp and cold. He doesn’t speak the entire time. His jaw is tight and his thick, dark brows are drawn together. “I could do this myself.” You stare down at him before sighing.

“Minho.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you remember that shirt I wore in high school?” Minho’s hand hovers in the air as he hesitates. You puff air through your nose as you smirk. “Because I’ll never forget how you scolded me. You were so nerdy with your glasses.” You giggle.

Minho continues wiping away at your mound. “You came stomping up to me and said “those words are inappropriate for school!” and told me to put on the proper uniform.”

Still nothing. Is he doing it because he knows what his silence does to you or because he genuinely doesn’t want to speak to you? The former is better, you can grapple with spite. But you can see his face softening. He’s reflecting on your fond memories, but he still says nothing.

“You never stopped. You’re still that nerd in the glasses trying to get me to behave and probably always will be.”

Minho finally looks at you. He scowls at you and you brace for him to blow up. But he just drops the rag with a gross splat before leaving the bathroom. You shoot up from the toilet.

“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t like the sound of that.” You chase after him. “You want to give up don’t you?-” He slams the bathroom door in your face and you listen as his heavy shoes thud away.

Your nostrils burn with each inhale. The air is dry, you said that to him when you bought this apartment together. He didn’t listen to you.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung was dozing off at work. It was his fault for jizzing in his sheets. He guesses Jiwoo could’ve just cleaned herself up and waited for Jisung to wake up to wash the sheets and scrub the mattress. But she didn’t and there’s no point in thinking about what if’s.

Still, he was probably gonna be here for a while. Probably gonna have to work overtime. He already planned to put his right hand to good use in the bathroom, making sure to stay quiet. Jiwoo would surely ask why he didn’t ask to have sex. She doesn’t know he watches porn or the type he watches. She’d probably faint, thinking the man she’d been with for three years was some debauched pervert.

Turns out he didn’t have to work overtime. He takes the extra hours at his disposal to take a walk through the city. He told himself he was just walking around aimlessly, but his feet were walking a specific route. Taking him to a place he should be swearing off. He can see the neon sign in the corner of his eyes, bright green and screaming at him. Walk past, you should be home by now.

He hesitantly peeks at the sign. If he were to walk in right now, would you be there again? Jisung curses under his breath, shaking the thought from his head. He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing right now. 

She was strange anyway, he thought. Calling him a sweet guy from such a brief exchange. What did she know?

Jisung eventually gives up on his walk, ignoring his brain screaming at him to take a peek inside. When he walks through the door Jiwoo is sitting on the couch, frantically nipping at her nails. She shoots up when she sees him.

“There you are.” She breathes, as if she’d been holding it. She bounds toward him and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest before he can even hang his coat up. “I was worried you’d be working overtime tonight.” She chuckles, failing to disguise how nervous she seems. With his features wound tight, he flicks his sleeve away to look at his watch. It’s 9 pm, she should be in her pajamas already and reading a book in bed.

“You waited for me?” He asks, puzzled. Though, he was more fretful than anything. 

“Yeah, I wanted to apologize.” She slowly pulls away, guilt weighing down her cute mousey features. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” Her eyes flit up at him before she shuts them with a sigh. “Or woken you up.”

Jisung blinks, realizing she probably saw his dark circles. His fretting got stronger the more she spoke and suddenly he found himself in total panic mode. "Y-you don’t have to worry about that! I’m the asshole. I knew very well you don’t like body fluids.”

“You were asleep, Jisung. How could you have known?” She implores. She was right, it’s not like he forced himself to cum. But that part was only a cover for what he was truly guilty about. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him. Right as he takes a breath, Jiwoo is sighing and stepping away.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed now. Oh, and–” Jiwoo spins back around and gives Jisung an emphatic look. “You’re not an asshole, Jisung. You’re sweet. The sweetest guy I’ve met.”

After Jiwoo is closed within the bathroom Jisung feels multiple emotions tugging at his stomach. He should tell her. About everything. How he still isn’t used to their different preferences. His browser history. Going to the club. The dream.

He rushes after Jiwoo, pushing the bathroom door open to see her naked body. She squeaks and covers herself up. “J-Jisung? What…”

When he feels himself start to get hard he immediately shuts the door. He could just relieve himself and try again later. But where? She was in the bathroom. She’d be pissed if he came anywhere else. 

He kneels on his bed with uncertainty before collapsing on his face. He definitely shouldn’t do it here, but he still starts jutting into the mattress. The comforter is wiped clean of her scent so his fantasizing was dulled. But he still humps with fervor, finding something inside him egging him on. He clenches the comforter and lets out a squeezed grunt once the shower comes on. 

Jisung has been a no-good boyfriend. Apparently her friends keep banking on her to be the first to get hitched in her friend group. If only they knew what he was thinking about right now. They’d beg her to break up with him, plead her to stop shopping for rings. Maybe one of them would even speak up about the sneaking suspicions they’ve been harboring this entire time.

“I knew he would do something like that. He looks like the type to have wandering eyes.”

He whimpers, hiking a knee higher to really press his groin against the mattress. “He definitely checks out other women, he probably does it shamelessly too.”

It would be Haseul, he can feel it in the way she looks at him. She knows, she can sense that he’s no good. Jisung unbuttons his jeans to let the tip of his cock peek out from under his underwear. It feels so hot and soft against his stomach that he’s able to ignore his concerns about making Jiwoo upset. He even spits into his hand, a thick glob like he fantasizes about, before smoothing it over his cock head. 

He moves to his knees, gripping his shaft with two hands and fucking into them. With puffs of airy moans, he lets his eyes flutter shut and fantasizes about spraying his cum all over the bed. Oh, Jiwoo would get so upset. She’d call him disgusting and probably kick him out. She’d break up with him because of how bad he is.

He’s so close he can feel the heat swirling in his groin but then the shower shuts off and he hurriedly stuffs himself back in his pants. As he zips and buttons himself back up he can feel that euphoria slipping away, leaving him cold and unsatisfied.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You linger outside your door a little longer today. You can hear the tv blaring behind it. Maybe if you come in later than usual you can conjure up some more of his passion. He’s been colder. You’re pushing it.

It was unlike you to be so antsy but the possibility of you getting to him made you open the door. Minho glances up at you, only to look back at the tv like it was nothing.

For the first time in years you felt wary about the shirt you borrowed from your escapades. You stand in the living room, waiting for anything. He could even break up with you and it’d be better than this. Feeling suffocated, you leave to your room. You barely got any sleep at your one night stand’s house. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you’ve entered a new phase. The one where they realize you’re not worth it. That you’re easy with no thrill.

You strip your clothes off and lift your covers, slipping beneath them. You angrily wipe away the tear that slips free as you lay your head on your pillow. This is what you wanted. You were asking for him to stop pretending to care about you. He’s finally done it.

When you wake up it’s dark out. Minho is nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, or the spot he’s carved out for himself on the couch. 

You wish you could track him down and force him to face you. What would you do then? You’ve tried pissing him off and pushing him until he has no choice but to blow up at you. What if he doesn’t do that anymore.

Your eyes scan the faces of each mid-height male dancing under the dim lights. They’re desperate to find those pouty lips. That annoyed stare that didn’t change the fact that he resembled a rabbit.

Him being here is past wishful thinking. Him being here means he’s decided to meet you at your level. It took a lot of letting him down to get him to even fuck you the way he does now. The day he becomes a degenerate to understand you is decades ahead, if you two make it that far.

You see a pair of glasses that feel familiar. Thinking of the Minho from when you started dating used to be sweet. But seeing those thick rimmed, square glasses make you sick right now. You clench your fists. Being in this atmosphere this long without a drink feels strange, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way over to the guy with the glasses. You shove at his shoulder, forcing his attention on you. 

Jisung stares at you like a deer in the headlights. He wonders if you somehow know about the naughty dreams he had about you, or that he’s happy to see you for the worst reasons. His thoughts won’t shut up. They indulge in the nasty fantasies while simultaneously telling him he’s a monster because of them. 

Jisung wipes his sweaty palms off on his t-shirt, only then do you recognize him. It’s hard to forget someone who wears a t-shirt to a club. The same person you saw nudging their way onto the dance floor seemingly in a trance. You’re still unclear why someone like him stumbled in here, or why he’s back.

“I-I’m sorry, you probably mistook me for someone else.” Jisung distances himself discreetly with a nervous smile.

“I didn’t.” You flash him the same smile you’re sure scared him off last time. You expected him to chase after you, but when you looked back, he was rushing out of the club. You should stay away from people like him. He’s practically trembling. Your eyes drag slowly up and down his frame. “You’re a sweet boy, you shouldn’t get involved with someone like me.” You say as if he told you he was interested. You’re being insanely presumptuous, but you have your reasons.

“I would never. I have… I have a girlfriend.” Jisung announces proudly. At that moment, the both of you come to an understanding. He got a boner when you guys danced together and now he’s unabashedly staring at your cleavage.

And Jisung? He’s aware of how obvious he’s being. The lust is as pleasing as it is painful. He’s drunk on it, eating up the black, strapless bustier hoisting up your tits and miniskirt tempting him to imagine your panties. His current behavior isn’t very sweet of him, you both think.

And it’s exciting all the same.

The lights bathe both of you in shifting hues as you swirl your hips against his groin. Your hand reaches to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his breath ghosts on your neck. Time is stuck in slow motion as you both relish in the teasing. It’s exhilarating, sending shockwaves through both your veins. 

Jisung’s breath labors more and more the further he gets into his fantasy. He’s already decided that your panties are red and lacy. The straps are thin and sit high on your hips. You have on a matching strapless bra and the cups cut so low that your nipples accidentally pop out when he yanks your top down. His burlish hands grope harshly at them while he bites your neck.

Your filthy moan makes his eyes snap open. His lips are actually on your neck and his hands have moved up from your hips to your breasts. Thankfully he didn’t expose you to the rest of the club, but that’s the least of his concerns. This is it. He can’t go back now. His erection is pressed firmly against you, riding up your skirt, and his hands are squeezing your tits. Jiwoo would be absolutely devastated. Fuck, fuck, fuck, desperation pleads and claws at him. Crippling shame and guilt wrack throughout his body.

This time a filthy noise leaves his mouth as his hips jerk against you. His cock is throbbing and his head is swirling with need. The fantasy has escalated. You’re gagged and bound, writhing underneath him. He grabs a handful of your pussy. He’s ripped from his fantasy once again once he feels lace on his fingers. Your face turns against his, your mouth grazing his cheek as you buck uncontrollably in his grip. Jisung grunts and presses you hard against him. Hot seed spurts up from his tip, soiling his underwear.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung rushes home and slams the door behind him. He rests against it, steadying himself. His heart feels like it’ll give out. He can’t stop replaying what happened. It makes his knees weak and triggers a deep ache in his pants. It feels so fucking good to think about. It feels so incredibly bad to think about. Jisung collapses to his knees with an anguished sob. 

“I’m so sorry.” He sputters out.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Your routine was interrupted. You return later that same night to see Minho asleep on the couch. You wonder if he’d feel relieved if he saw you returning home early. 

He shouldn’t.

You’re still thinking about him. You don’t know his name and you’ve never seen anything but an imprint of his dick, but he’s running through your mind. You want fuck him bad. Bad enough that you’re touching yourself in bed. You let out a whine when the memory gets to the part where he runs away. He ran away from you again.

Now you know it’s because of guilt rather than being intimidated. There’s a chance you'll never see him again. It makes you more upset than you care to admit. You know what it feels like when you like someone. You avoid them like the plague and feel like throwing up at the thought of them. They make you imagine a bright future way too early. This is not that, but it’s not like your other one night stands either.

Thinking of him makes you think about the state of you and Minho. You sprawl out in your empty bed after climaxing. The cool parts of the sheets sizzle against your hot skin. You stare blankly out the window, hoping sleep will take pity on you and save you from your thoughts.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You sit at the edge of your bed for what feels like hours. Today you wish you could get to The Eve early. You’re disgusted with yourself. You want to plan your outfit and pick out something extra special. What the fuck is wrong with you. The door opening almost breaks you free from being locked in place. 

“Were you here all night?” 

You look up at Minho, who’s taken aback by the fear in your eyes.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” His concern is strong enough to show on his face, but not to come further into the room. You bite your lip and focus back on nothing. 

“Why are you worried about me?” You ask in disappointment. It’s easy to understand why someone on the outside would think it was disappointment in him. It wasn't. 

He leaves after that. Either he asked himself that question and came to his senses, or–

You sigh, shakily standing from the bed. It doesn’t matter.

Later that night, Minho is gone again. Not there to see you dressed up with more intent than usual.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“What have you been up to lately?”

The question was like a metal pipe crashing into Jisung’s skull. He whips his head around to gape at her. The fear in his eyes catches Jiwoo off guard but she laughs it off.

“I’ve been washing more of your favorite t-shirts lately. I thought you only saved those for special occasions?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him. She’s being cheeky, but the bile climbing up Jisung’s throat doesn’t care about that. He should tell her now before it gets worse. She’s such a wonderful woman that she’d probably forgive him. She’s so perfect, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Jisung’s cock twitches.

“I’m just trying to do more things that make me happy.” The words fly out of him, not a stutter, wobble, or voice crack in sight.

“D’aw,” Jiwoo pouts, touched as she sets down the dish she was drying to come sit next to him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and pulls him in before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’m really happy to hear that!” Her smile slowly fades as worry takes over. “You know, I was worried that you seemed really down lately. I was thinking of canceling on the girls next month…”

“No!” A strange authoritative tone crops up. Jisung gives Jiwoo a firm look. “You’ve been excited about this trip for so long! You should absolutely go. The only reason I may have been down lately is because I’ve been feeling a little suffocated. I decided to try new things around town and it’s been helping.” Jisung turns his body toward her, grabbing both her hands. “Don’t you worry about me, okay?” One could say ‘trying new things around town’ wasn’t a complete lie, but it still worries him that he’s lying to his future wife so easily.  

“Okay… but if you need me to cancel-” Jiwoo attempts to rush out, but Jisung hits her with an even firmer look. 

“Go.” He says simply. With that, Jiwoo is back to beaming. She throws her arms around him and gives him a tight squeeze. Over her shoulder, Jisung’s smile fades.

Later that night, Jisung plants his dirty lips on a sleeping Jiwoo’s cheek before leaving.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung is anxious as he searches through the club. He doesn’t see you anywhere at the edges of the club. The last place to look is in the middle. Jisung pushes his way through, feeling his body buzz the further in he gets.

In the middle he spots a woman with a low waisted, flowy skirt and bandeau top. When you twirl around, the skirt’s front is revealed to be asymmetrical, almost tattered in appearance with its two high slits. You move closer to him, the hunger in your eyes matching his. You breathe hotly and grab his face. All the pent up passion built up overnight culminates in a sloppy kiss. A kiss that you can barely call a kiss with your tongues laving at each other’s mouths and chins.

Another boundary has been broken. Jisung grunts, grabbing you by the throat and yanking you away from him. The shock in your eyes would give him pause before the kiss. Right now, Jisung’s lust has taken over. You might slap him or tell him off now, and he’ll respect your wishes. But you don’t do anything, other than flashing pleading eyes at him. His nostrils flare as his breathing gets heavier. He leans in and draws your bottom lip back with his teeth. After he releases it he’s leaning by your ear. 

“Open your fucking mouth.” He growls. 

Your mouth lolls open, your eyes begging even more. Jisung spits into your mouth, some of the saliva landing on your chin. You close your mouth, putting on a show of cleaning up your mess with your tongue. Jisung balls the back of your skirt within his fist and pulls you closer. Your tongues are exploring each other’s mouths as Jisung reaches under the front of your skirt. He gasps against your lips when his fingers dip straight into your wet heat. You chuckle before licking a stripe up his cheek. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t short, but the slits in the front are high enough that one bold dance move could show the entire club your cunt. 

Jisung nearly whimpers, steeling himself before plunging two fingers in immediately. You moan loudly, the loud music drowning it out. Jisung keeps you pressed close enough that only someone paying close attention could see you getting your hole fingered. Your head lulls, resting against his chest as you shut your thighs around his hand. Jisung lets go of your skirt to tug at your hair. He yanks your head back. 

“Open them back up. Now.” He spits next to your ear.

You bitch and whine, but you still do it. An intense heat overwhelms his cock. He should fuck you right now. He should tear your skirt off and use the tattered fabric to bind your wrists together while he fucks you right in the middle of all these people. The club goers bump into both of you at all sides. One stumbles backward, propelling you forward and plunging Jisung deeper. Jisung licks his tongue into your open mouth. 

Your tongues tangle together while a droplet of your juices trails down Jisung’s forearm. 

“I’m gonna cum! Choke me!” You plead pathetically. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to oblige, squeezing until your eyes roll back. Jisung finds himself mimicking your pained expression as your cunt spasms around his fingers. He grinds pitifully into nothing, reverting back to his fantasy. Your bandeau is made into a makeshift gag as he fucks you so hard your tits spasm in different directions. Your entire body jiggles from the force. 

The feeling of your hand cupped around his bulge lights up his synapses. He groans, it’s guttural as sperm shoots into his underwear for the second night in a row.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung watches Jiwoo carefully, who just thanked him for doing laundry more often. Things are better than before, the two of them are more affectionate. She even has sex with him a little more. He doesn’t cum, which she was initially concerned about. He reminded her that this was ideal in their situation, and she felt better instantly.

Jisung realized long ago that missionary did nothing for him. He started to fantasize about you during it, but decided that was somehow crossing the line. Not the countless times now you’ve made him cum in his pants. Not the fact that you and Jisung have your hands down each other’s pants every night now. Not the fact that he now knows a list of what turns you on and has it memorized.

Jiwoo leaves tomorrow.

That fact replays in his mind as he watches Jiwoo maneuver around the kitchen. She catches him staring and smiles. He smiles back. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You chuck the bag over the high rim of the dumpster. You feel lighter, and it’s not just because you’re no longer lugging a heavy trash bag of large t-shirts, sweatshirts, and hoodies. 

When you walk back in the house Minho is familiarly pushing you back against the door. His eyes are wild, and you can’t recall a time he’s looked this crazed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He grits before grinding his jaw. He’s fuming. That in itself scares you a bit, but it’s also that he’s been getting more and more antsy for the past month. 

“I-I don’t…”

“Bullshit.” He spits, making you flinch. He releases his tight grip on your shoulders, sharp eyes still trained on you. “You’re fucking disgusting.” His voice cracks a little. 

You’re not scared he’ll do something to you. Well, not anything abusive anyway. You’re scared because he knows you’re up to no good. You don’t know if he’s narrowed it down exactly, but you know he’s onto you. 

Seeing Jisung is the highlight of your day. Your body ignites in goosebumps as soon as you see him. Something about him, the horrible thing he’s doing, makes you feel even better about yourself than all the years Minho dedicated to fixing you. 

“Fuck you.” He spits before retreating into the bedroom. He’s been spending so much time in there that you took his place on the couch. You sleep there in your day clothes, crying yourself to sleep. 

When you see Jisung that night, you’re more exhausted than usual. He pulls your hair like he usually does, smashing his lips against yours. You don’t love it as much as you usually do. You just want to climb into bed with Minho and hold him. A part of you knows he even wants you to. But you can’t. You don’t deserve it. So you cry as you kiss someone else’s boyfriend.

He laps up the tears and you’re slowly soothed. You’re not sure to what extent, but you’ve come to understand that Jisung is a monster. He frequently brings up how wrong it is that he’s treating his girlfriend like this. His cock throbs when he talks about how he knows she’s planning to propose. He cums after imagining her face if she saw the two of you. 

“So, do you want to come over tomorrow?” He asks with a twinkle in his eye. You were both stood outside of the club. The same day he described in detail his fantasy of his girlfriend forgetting something and coming back only to see her boyfriend balls deep in you, he revealed that she actually is going away. And now he’s making another part of that fantasy a reality. You take a long drag of your cigarette, mascara smudged all around your eyes. You blow, realizing you’re not the least bit repulsed. You feel good.

“Yeah.”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You linger outside of the bedroom door, hand repeatedly reaching for the knob but deciding against it. Your eyes flutter shut, remembering how warm his embrace used to be. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

When Jisung opens the door, something feels off. Maybe it’s the lack of loud music and dancing bodies bumping into the both of you, but the hunger isn’t there yet. 

You shuffle inside, annoyed when he whistles and rocks on his feet. 

“D’you want something to drink?” He says, not meeting your eyes. 

“No. Is that the bedroom?”

“Yeah…” He hesitates before he answers and swallows hard after. “Yeah, let’s uh… let’s head inside.” Jisung offers to hang your purse up on the hook by the door, right next to a wooden bat. You do it yourself.

The bedroom is pleasantly designed, it’s clean and organized, and there’s a picture of Jisung and his girlfriend on the nightstand. A part of you was scared he was lying about it, this cements it. He hurries over to lay it down after seeing you stare at it. 

“So um, I have a few things in mind, but we could of course do whatever you want to do.”

So far this is a complete let down. You’ve confirmed that he’s an actual monster, but now you’re not so sure about his dominance. Was it just a fluke while you were at the club? You didn’t come here to be asked how you want be fucked. You sigh, considering going home and crying yourself to sleep again. While looking at the floor you see two feet plant themselves in front of you. 

When you look up at Jisung, you don’t intend for your eyes to be as glassy and pitiful as they are. It’s Jisung’s turn to sigh. 

“You’re just hopeless, aren’t you?” Jisung runs his knuckles down your cheek. The gesture confuses you, but then you notice his eyes. Before you can get excited, his hand is wrapped around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut. “Gonna make me do all the work? Hm? Can’t even fucking talk?”

You’re too busy relishing in the wave of relief crashing over you to realize you’re being disobedient. A slap across your face brings you back to reality. 

“Fucking. Speak.” He demands lowly. 

“N-no, I won’t make you do all the work–”

“Then get your ass on the bed. Hike it in the air.” 

You rush over, kneeling on the bed and pulling your dress off. Jisung comes over and yanks it the rest of the way, impatiently. He grabs your head and shoves it into the mattress before grabbing the rope from the nightstand. He told Jiwoo he wanted to learn sailor knots when she found it. He wasn’t completely lying, which is why he was able to demonstrate some for her.

Even a simple one was enough to convince her, that same knot is enough to restrain you and fulfill one of his biggest fantasies. Jisung unbuckles his belt not only to relieve some of the building pressure, but also to bend it in half. He raises the belt before swinging it down. The leather laps painfully against your ass. Your body jolts and you gasp. The sting doesn’t go away before the next lash. Another and another, Jisung is completely relentless. He stops only to haphazardly free his bottom half. 

You feel the bed dip again behind you, whimpering like a puppy. Then you feel his hard cock against your ass. You chant pleas under your breath, cunt clenching desperately to feel him inside.

“Don’t know how to shut up, huh? That’s okay,” Jisung leans over, grabbing the ball gag from on top of his nightstand. One of the many things he picked up this morning in preparation. He fastens it securely around your head, pulling the ball further into your mouth until you can’t coherently beg anymore. 

“If I were you I would stop that begging. It’ll only take longer for me to fuck you, okay?” Jisung’s voice was laced with sympathy undercut by a sinister undertone. You nod against the bed, trying to quiet your whimpering. 

You yelp as the belt lashes against you again. 

“What the fuck did I say?” He warns in a growl. You panic, silencing yourself immediately.

Swing after swing after swing after swing. Jisung punishes your ass until it’s red hot and tears have thoroughly soaked your cheeks. You gargle softly against the gag. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

You pant excitedly as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. 

“If I do this for you, give you what you want, you have to keep it up. No noises while I fuck you open.”

You nod frantically, trembling from the sheer anticipation. His tip prods against your entrance. You knew he’d be the biggest you ever had from the times you jerked him off, but feeling him attempt to push into your hole made your eyes blow wide. You panic again, worried you’re not going to stay quiet. 

Then he shoves his way in. Luckily the force makes you choke on your scream. Your legs shake, fists balling tight. You’re pleased when you hear Jisung’s euphoric moan. He stays submerged inside you, but he’s moaning uncontrollably. 

“F-fuck, I can see your asshole fluttering, baby girl.” Jisung sounds like he might cry. He slaps your ass, this time with his own hand, testing your silence. With that, he starts moving. The pace is already brutal. His rhythmic, chesty moans show just how much this is getting to him. Does his girlfriend fuck him at all? Whatever. She doesn’t deserve this anyway. This is all for you. 

Your feet jerk up from the bed with each punishing thrust. It’s like he can’t help himself, he has to go balls deep every time. Each thrust with your cunt stroking him pulls a different string of moans. You’ve never heard him so vocal, and it’s never been so hard to shut up. He’s milking your pussy so good it’s making you cry. Silent sobs squeeze from your body as his body drapes over yours. He grabs your throat, making it even worse. Your sobs become audible, but he doesn’t even care. You’re both too far gone to care about how loud you’re both being.

His bottom lip drags from your shoulder up to the apex of your neck. He’s croaking out moans right next to your ear and you know he’s gone. You tug at your restraints, wishing you could touch and claw him right now. 

His seed is hot as it spurts into you. The sensation sends your body down, flat to the bed. His hips follow, continuing to buck into you as your orgasm rockets through you. You essence squelches around him until it forces him out, continuing to spray and soil the both of you.

The two of you lie there with loud, hoarse pants for what feels like hours. You expect to turn and see the sun rising. It doesn’t matter because it’s sunny inside your body. The minute Jisung unties you, you’re reaching to hold him close. Your hands travel down his back and over his shoulders like you’d been craving. Somehow the come down is still so euphoric. You both buzz long after you’ve cum.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

It was two years ago that Minho put a code on his phone. He doesn’t use it for anything but checking emails and making calls, so he didn’t worry about most of the traditional phone activities. You never understood why putting a code on his phone was included in that, and you warned him multiple times that he would get his phone stolen. You knew that a code wouldn’t keep someone from getting in if they really wanted to, but you weren’t saying it to help him out. Besides, he’d just shrug anyway. 

So you went through his phone. 

You guys had a fight, back when they used to be coherent, and then he put a lock on his phone. All that to say, you couldn’t have prepared for Minho’s spotty appearances lately if you wanted to. You were serious about tracking him. The unknown was sure to kill you. Death was the only thing that could come from pain like this. You didn’t actually do it this time, did you?

Was he at someone’s house? Someone who’s been begging him to ditch you and enter a healthier relationship? Who could it be? He doesn’t go to church, his family either lives far away or are constantly going on trips, his friends have essentially rage quit their friendship… who else does that leave?

You wish that meant there was no other way he could’ve connected with someone, but it’s not true. He’s handsome and a great guy. There’s no way no one has approached him in all these years.

Your vision has long blurred, the show on the television becoming blobs of color. You haven’t showered since you’ve been with Jisung. You feel gross but have no desire to move. Whenever you hurt him, it’s intentional. Sometimes you even spend the night alone at a hotel and buy a shirt from the men’s section the next morning, pulling it onto your frame right before you get to the door. Right now, it’s completely subconscious. You’re going to Jisung’s in an hour and it’s the only thing that makes you feel like anything other than death. The warm feeling you get at the idea of being with Jisung doesn’t come from wanting a reaction out of Minho. That brings a dark, gnarling fear out of the depths of your soul.

You don’t like Jisung. You love Minho. That much is apparent when you see Jisung. He doesn’t give you butterflies. You just feel comfort in the way he can still fuck you with traces of his girlfriend everywhere.

Jisung freezes mid-greeting to look at your old clothes. You’re definitely different from your encounters at the club. He noticed you go from dominant and intimidating to submissive very gradually. It hit its peak when you had your arms crossed in his bedroom yesterday, refusing to initiate anything. He chuckles at you which earns him a scowl. He tugs you inside and kicks the door closed, leading you all the way to the shower. He’s back to taking complete control, pulling your dirty clothes off one by one. 

He steps behind you once his clothes are off, smoothing his hands over your now moistened skin. The hot water aids in raising the temperature between the two of you. Jisung finally feels you relax against him. He moves his hand down between your legs. He parts your thighs, letting the water trickle over your mound. His cock gets hard fast when he’s with you. You feel his shaft rest rigidly in between your cheeks as he lathers soap all over your body.

To your disappointment, he doesn’t fuck you in the shower. He simply rubs your body everywhere but where you need him. He steps out the minute all the suds have been rinsed off your skin. He tepidly dries himself off, tossing the towel over his shoulder. You watch him clean his glasses before putting them back on, only for them to fog right back up. He looks over at you questioningly. 

For a moment, with his eyes obscured, you can transplant the image of a younger Minho onto him. Your mind starts to wander to an alternate reality where Minho knew you were a lost cause right off the bat. How different would your dynamic be? Would there be one at all?

“You should’ve been on the bed by now. Hurry up and dry off.” Jisung’s voice and expression ooze with disappointment that makes your core hum. You dumbly turn off the water while keeping your eyes trained on his naked figure. This is your first time seeing him completely bare. You almost saw it yesterday, as he took a shower right after you chickened out of staying any longer.

When you climb onto the bed you hike your ass in the air again. His hand thundering down on your ass makes you jolt. “Not today.” He grunts as he lies down on his back. He rests his hands behind his head. 

“You were a fucking brat yesterday. Immediately putting me to work and then not staying quiet. Did you think I missed that at the end?” Jisung raises his eyebrows, scolding you both with his words and his eyes. You wish you could put the Jisung you first met and this one side by side. He is totally relaxed while easily maintaining control.

“Straddle me, and hold your arms together behind your back. You’re putting in work today.”

You bit your lip to stifle the whine threatening to get you punished. This is a pillow princess’ worst nightmare. Your eyes unwittingly move to his cock which is so hard gravity is failing to lay it flat on his stomach. Your fleeting thought to disobey just to get more effort and attention from him disappears. 

So you clasp both your wrists and slip onto his cock. You didn’t realize how wet you were until his head slid past your entrance. His cock feels so hot and so does his skin when your calves graze his thighs. It’s electrifying yet inviting. You get the urge to lean against his chest but he’d probably pull out, and that would annoy you enough to make you cry. 

And so you bounce, letting him see the front of you fully nude in all its glory. How your tits bounce and hips swing. He grabs your hips but not to guide you, to dig his fingers into flesh. 

This, you figure, is one of his favorite positions. You figure because it’s the first time he’s cum twice for you. That, and it’s the only position he repeated. For the next two weeks, he has bounced you on his cock while standing up with your legs tightly secured around him, had you flat on your back with your legs in the air on his dining room table, had you halfway off the couch while straddling him again, and so on. He always shows you a picture or a video once you get to the area of his choice. His calm dominance melts away just for a moment as he excitedly presents it to you. Him baring his deep passion to fuck you strangely doesn’t push you away. You find yourself squeezing your thighs, wide eyes matching his as he shows you the position.

The two of you have gone from barely speaking outside of sex to making out as soon as he opens the door. You both giggle like schoolkids in anticipation. You both joke through a blur of lips and teeth.

But that excitement and glee fades as soon as you’re back in your dreary apartment. The escalation of childlike joy when you’re at Jisung’s directly translates to escalated sorrow when you’re back at yours. 

You only catch glimpses of the back of Minho these days, either retreating to the bedroom or out of the apartment. You have the urge to sleep over Jisung’s for the rest of the time Jiwoo is gone. That somehow feels like crossing a line that’s comically insignificant at this point. You know Jisung would understand what you mean. That night you took a shower at his place, he washed your clothes for you.

“You could stay until they’re done.” Jisung suggests after some tense silence.

“No, I should go.” You shoot it down immediately. The option has always been unspoken but ever present. To stay a little longer, watch a movie, drink some water, maybe actually cuddle. Not like what you did the first night, where you ran out of there as soon as you realized you were caressing someone else.

“In what clothes?” Jisung chuckles. You glare at him again. You hate when he does that. Well, you did, until you realized you’re both horrible enough to have fun while being unfaithful. 

“Can’t I just borrow some of hers? I’ll wash those and-”

“No.”

Just then, the Jisung from the first time you met him was back. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, but you could see the raging conflict behind them. So you left with some of his clothes instead.

You told him you were in a relationship, but not much else about it. Since then there was a mutual understanding of each other. It made your tension trickle away wrapped in his arms. You were able to at least disassociate so the depth of the pain became less apparent.

Then Jiwoo would call.

Jisung was sickeningly sweet over the phone. You laughed to yourself while listening to his overexaggerated joy when speaking with her. The humor rotted away when catching glimpses of her voice. She's elated to speak with her boyfriend. She can't sleep without him. There's no way they're not getting married soon.

In the corner of his bedroom the space grows vast, Jisung suddenly on the other side of a treacherous fissure.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You enter the apartment as soon as Minho leaves his room. He stares at you, clearly shocked. He probably expected to be gone before you came home, so you wouldn’t see him dressed up with his hair styled and your favorite cologne on. It’s been a long two weeks, so the stinging in your eyes turns into tears fast. He pushes past you and leaves the apartment, leaving you to collapse to the ground. The pain is immediate because the denial has shriveled up. You’re being forced to accept that it’s happening. Anger swiftly takes hold as you’re reminded of one hard to swallow truth. 

You stand up and grab the lamp beside the entrance. You shove it to the ground, the delicate glass covering shattering before the bulb does the same. You send the potted plant into the tv, throw a stack of plates onto the floor. Once your energy is spent, the fact is still there.

You have no right to be upset.

You throw a tantrum and break things because you made your own bed, but you have no right to do that either.

You deserve this.

You deserve him bringing a new girl home and fucking her loudly in the bed you used to share. You deserve him coming home every day and telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are. You deserve him introducing you to the girlfriend he’s been hiding from you and shoving his tongue down her throat right in front of you.

You deserve him giving up on you and admitting you were never fixable to begin with.

Your stomach caves from the sheer force of your sobs. Your body contorts, tangling within your bed sheets and kicking the cover off. You force yourself to imagine all these things he deserves to do to you even though it feels like it’s setting you on fire. You cry and cry until your body feels hollow and you stare numbly at the wall.

The sun rises.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Your ears pick up each sound but it’s muffled. The sound of the door opening. The sound of his boots crunching against glass. The sound of him crying. The sound of him leaving. 

The sun sets. It’s time to see Jisung. 

Your body wobbles as you sit up. Your body feels like a ton of bricks. You rush to the bathroom, finally emptying your bladder. You’re going to his house with the same clothes from the day prior again.

He opens the door, chuckling just like the last time you did this. “No work today?”

You’re not in a laughing mood, though. You thought things would be like they had been. You’d be depressed while you were home and cheerful at Jisung’s place. But no, the tears break free and stream down your face. Jisung pulls you into the house, asks if you’re okay. He shouldn’t. People like you don’t deserve sympathy. You grit your teeth, grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward. He stiffly places his hands on your waist, hesitantly accepting the kiss.

You cup his cock, making him moan and grant your tongue entrance to his mouth. You push him toward the couch until he flops down onto it, looking at you in bewilderment. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asks just before you devour him again. You guide his hands to your breasts, whimpering when he pinches your nipples. 

“Fuck me.” You plead, voice weak and eyes glassy. Your eyes don’t plead him like they usually do. You’re deeply hurt, your lip trembling and shattering his heart. 

“Babe c’mon, let’s stop–” Jisung reaches up to caress your face, laughing awkwardly.

“Don’t call me that.” Your tone is venomous as you swat his hands away. Jisung is taken aback. Not because of your tone, but because he hadn’t realized he called you that.

Exasperated, you huff and reach for his dick. Once it’s free, you’re awkwardly shimmying off Jisung’s basketball shorts. Jisung is finding it difficult to find the words he’s looking for. It’s too late anyway, you’re sinking down onto his cock. Sex with you is like a defibrillator. It jolts life back into him, no matter how much the guilt is getting to him. It lets him set aside his worries for now to just focus on how wet and tight you are around him. The constant access to you is dizzying. Just when he’s coming down from his high, you’re back with another dose.

Without Jisung’s strict rules or constant orders you’re able to think. It’s horrible.

“Fucking choke me– ngh! Yell at me!” You grit out.

With this Jisung is back to reality with you. He stammers, your eyes and your words conflict each other.  He considers it, playing along while his heart’s not in it. The sex is going to be subpar today clearly, so it doesn’t matter what he does next.

“Jiwoo called me earlier today.”

You’re chugging along, hoping this transitions to him hissing demands at you. 

“Well, she calls me every day. I used to think it was because she was worried about me. I thought that was the same reason she hugged me so long before she left,” Jisung’s voice is conversational despite the strain your cunt squeezing him is giving it. His eyes are fussing with a conflict again. You stop, in exasperated shock that he’s opening up about this right now.

“She even gave me this look before she went out the door. So I kept telling her every time she called that I was okay and that she should have fun. That she didn’t have to call me every day. But today…” Jisung feels his heart clench as he recalls her words.

“Things are going really great recently, aren’t they?” She laughed, it sounded so sweet. Jisung could hear the commotion of activities more fun than being on the phone in the background. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I think about you so much that it's hard to have fun while I’m here. I miss you so, so much… and I realize now that I don’t like being without you.” She laughed again, but this time Jisung could tell she was crying. “I kinda wanna come home?” 

She was asking him.

“W-what did you say?” You swallow hard, trying to hide the horror in your eyes. Would he really tell her to come home? Is she about to walk through the door and fulfill his fantasy? Your stomach drops as you glance over your shoulder.

“I said no.” Jisung says quietly. You turn back to see his bitter smile. “I stayed on the phone with her for hours to soothe her and convince her to stay.” Jisung huffs, attempting to blink away his tears and failing. His head droops, hiding from you. He hiccups, “She was so happy with me after I did that. She-”

You cradle his face, slowly lifting it to face you. Jisung looks upset at this, shoulders bouncing as he begins to cry harder. You try to wipe away his tears with your thumbs, shaking your head when they quickly get replaced.

“It’s better this way.” You say weakly. 

“What?” The frustration leaks through Jisung’s anguish. He tries to shake away your hands but you grab him more securely and force him to look in your eyes.

“You don’t want her to know how awful you truly are.” 

Seeing the pain intensify in your eyes, Jisung stills. Knowing he understands now, your hands drop from his face. Suddenly, you feel more alone than you have in weeks. You start to get up but Jisung’s hands caress your face now. A tear hangs on your eyelash as you gaze wearily at him. You wish he’d just let you go. At least rotting in your bed, you’d be faced with one facet of pain. Staying here with him is like watching the last bit of color drain from the world.

He's not sure exactly what happens when you walk out that door. What he does know is you come back weaker than before. He sees the dread in your eyes at going back.

“Stay here.”

“No–”

“Stay.”

You stare at him, wondering if he’s just saying this because you’re the only one he can engage in this kink with. Then he kisses you. He inhales deeply as he threads his fingers through your hair. He captures your lips, detaches to breathe and captures them again. The lack of tongue or teeth feels foreign. You can’t remember the last time Minho kissed you like this. It’s only been drunk and sloppy, rough out of anger, or awkward in pursuit of keeping your trash-fire relationship a secret. 

The only thing close to Jisung’s trembling lips against yours was when Minho first found out you fucked someone else. He pleaded with you to tell him it didn’t mean anything, to tell him that you still loved him. His lips then were frantic, refusing to let you slip away with his hands caging you in. If only you did slip away back then. His life would be better now.

But Jisung is steady. The underlying shame and regret don’t dull the passion flowing from his lips. His hands feel like they're caging you. Begging you to just stay.

Another boundary has been crossed. The final one. There was no redemption to be desperately dug up to salvage your souls as you kiss each other like the world might tip off its axis if you stop. The two of you only break apart to moan as you ride him. Your hips grind against his lap, his dick as far in as it can go. You moan into each other’s mouth as Jisung’s climax brings you closer to yours.

And yours comes and goes. Your freshly showered bodies lay as close as you can get in his bed, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

You jolt awake multiple times during the night, jolting Jisung awake with you. He just soothes you back to sleep, not asking about your nightmares detailing each scenario you forced yourself to imagine two nights ago.

Jisung leaves early in the morning, whispering to you to lock the door if you leave.

“You can stay, though.”

To your horror, Jisung kisses your cheek. Him falling for you hadn’t crossed your mind. He had always been so sex focused that romance seemed like a distant afterthought. He could have rubbed circles into your back each time you awoke because he was being nice. Your rationalizing is cut short as an even more horrifying thought rears its ugly head.

You wished he had kissed you on the lips.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Judging by the mess you left behind, Minho must think you’re on a rage fueled bender right now. He never did check if you were in the room that morning, so maybe he thinks you trashed the apartment, left, and never came back. You know for a fact he’s worried. Very little could stop Minho from worrying about your safety. That’s why even someone like you never played that card to get his attention, and why you’re worried sick. You pace around Jisung’s apartment. Your phone is still at the apartment, shattered from your temper tantrum. He would probably report the incident to the police before he contacted you, but the sight of your phone broken on the floor with you nowhere to be found doesn’t encourage confidence.

The thing is, you can’t go back and face him. Walking in, completely unharmed and freshly showered, with some other man’s clothes on and guilt evident on your face would just cement it for him. All you would do at that point is apologize, and what’s left of his soul would shatter right in front of you. You clamp your hand over your mouth, unable to bear the image of Minho realizing there’s actually someone else. You’re horrible to him, but the only thing he could be sure of is that you only love him. You imagine it’s the only thing keeping him around.

Minho putting together that all these years of pain and suffering and praying you’ll change has culminated in someone else getting the appreciation he deserves could change him forever.

So you lower your hand from the door knob.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

That night with Jisung was different. You were both so overwrought with guilt that you spent the evening taking turns soothing each other. When you finally had sex, it was more tender than it ever should be. He was hovering over you, looking straight into your eyes and he smoothed his hand over your hair. He peppered soft kisses all over your face. You loved every second of it. You showered together again and cuddled in bed. 

“Minho? Is that his name?” The sound of his name makes you flinch. You move away from Jisung who looks at you in confusion. 

“Don’t say his name!” You shout, stumbling out of bed. He blinks at you as you start to gather your clothes. He follows after you, stammering an apology. 

“Y-you said his name in your sleep yesterday. I’m sorry– I–”

“Just stop!” You’re more panicked than angry, which comes through in your voice. Your voice is loud, so it could be heard through the door. Pounding against the door makes you gasp, you stumble backwards. Jisung catches you, pulling you close.

“Who’s there!” Jisung shouts.

“Open the door!” Minho shrieks, his throat sounds like it’s tearing from the sheer force. Jisung grabs the bat, readying it before swinging the door open. Before he can even threaten him, Minho is pushing past him, eyes frantic as they search for you. When he finds you, you see it. You’re clean, unharmed, wearing nothing but Jisung’s shirt as you hug your body. 

He’s putting the pieces together.

Your mouth feels dry, your tongue feels like it’s swelling. The way Minho’s shoulders slouch makes your chest ache. He shakes his head at you in disbelief. 

“Your purse.” He gestures weakly at the bag sitting on the couch from when you entertained the idea of going home. “The tag is connected to my phone because I knew you’d do this.” Despite being so quiet, his words slash you open. 

“Minho…” Your trembling hands cover your mouth. This is it. This is it.

“Minho I didn’t mean to scare you I swear–”

“You can have the apartment.” The words fight their way from Minho’s mouth, but he’s not able to look at you. 

“Minho?” You try pitifully. Minho just drops his head, lingering for just one more moment before leaving. Jisung is quick to hold you, caress the back of your neck as if to cushion the incoming sobs. But they don’t come. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“For some ungodly reason, he’s going to keep paying your lease.” You gape at the woman. She doesn’t introduce herself, but you know it’s her. The one he wore your favorite cologne for. 

“He told me not to but fuck it– don’t contact him.” She shoves a finger into your face. “Don’t go looking for him, don’t make this any worse than you already have for the past twelve years.” She pauses, waiting for your reaction, seemingly expecting you to explode on her. You nod, finally closing your mouth that had been hung open this entire time. 

“Okay.”

She looks confused before she shakes her head and walks off of Jisung’s porch. 

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Jisung comes home with Chinese takeout. 

“I’m going to set it on the table.” He says breathlessly as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat hanger that his girlfriend undoubtedly picked out. She’ll be back in five days. He’ll erase any signs of you and go back to normal. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“What the fuck are we doing?” You say before you can stop yourself. It’s quiet for a moment, and you refuse to turn around and see his face. 

“What?”

“Why would I sit at that table and eat with you?” You stand up, finally turning around once the emotions stirring inside you are potent enough. You interrupt him before he can answer.

“Your loving girlfriend is going to come home soon.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I mean, we can still meet at your place–”

“She’s going to propose to you, Jisung.” He freezes for a moment, but you can tell by his face that he still doesn’t get it. 

“Do you seriously think she’ll never be suspicious? That she won’t wake up one night and realize you’re not there? Then she’ll pretend she’s asleep and hear you walk out. Then she’ll be more aware of the clues. You smell like perfume that’s not hers, there was a small amount of lipstick smudged on your collar, you’re sexually satisfied all of a sudden,”

Jisung swallows, “Then we’ll be careful.”

“Are you seriously willing to risk your relationship?” You ask, a nasty hint of amusement in the way you raise one brow at him. He closes his mouth.

You laugh loudly, the laughter spiraling out of control before you finally catch your breath.

“I fucking knew it.” Your expression sours, settling into a bitter one as you yank your purse off the hook.

“Don’t leave…”

“I don’t give a fuck about you. Don’t waste your time on someone who wouldn’t care if you died. Focus on your fucking fiancée.” You look back slightly before slamming the door behind you. 

Jisung wasn’t sure why he felt a bit panicked. His heartbeat accelerated as he stabilized himself against the counter. The slam of the door echoed in his head over and over until Jiwoo was kneeling in front of him, surrounded by all their friends and family. Everyone swooned, there were tears in Jiwoo’s eyes and all her friends' eyes. 

“Han Jisung, will you marry me?”

Jisung looked around frantically, feeling like the world was spinning. Only then did he realize why he was immediately panicked by you leaving. It was solidified by the fact that he couldn’t get in contact with you. He never did get your address, and you either never got another phone or changed your number.

Jisung’s breaths felt like they couldn’t break free. 

He was suffocating.

“Yes.”

-> end of act i

skz masterlist

milestone celebration masterlist

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yeowoosan x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse words -> 1.1K

I’ve never considered owning hybrids. 

I've always thought that they deserved to be free, and treated like people. Unfortunately in this state of politics it won't happen anytime soon.

Even then, the three hybrids who now live with me, almost seem like they wouldn’t operate on their own.

San… my pretty panther.

He's always been bad at leaving the apartment. When he does, he wears headphones. One's specialized for hybrids to cancel out noise. He can’t handle crowded places, sounds of screams happiness, or fear, or simple everyday noises like bells. You never notice how common it is until you have a hybrid flinch and grip you so hard it causes skin and clothes to rip. 

He’s exotic… and pretty but so so damaged. 

He’s never wanted to sit down and talk to me about what it was like nor do I ever expect him to. He wants to forget… he’s cried out how he wishes he could forget.

If only I could grant that wish to him. On his month anniversary, – when it was only me and Wooyoung by his side – he asked if we could go to the park. 

He loves watching TV. He also finds the sappy movies where you go to scenic places and just… soak it in. San couldn’t do that. That day a kid approached us and asked to touch San, but he wasn’t good with touch either. He flinches… so Wooyoung distracted the kid after they pull San’s tail. Innocent curiosity… kids don’t understand what no means when they are so young. 

After that day he locked himself in his room. 

He hates the outside world. Filled with cruel people and reminders of his past. 

It's a miracle he trusts me as much as he does. I once wanted to take him to a restaurant… but the door had a bell chime. It made him freeze until I commanded him and we went home. 

He will wait for a command and it's necessary to snap him out of it. 

Kun wanted him to continue therapy but he’s still not used to it. Shortly maybe? Whether that's in a year or two or maybe never. 

Despite how damaged he is, he’s truly an amazing person. He’s sensitive and caring… he’s beautiful. 

He cares so much about me, about Wooyoung, even the newest addition of Yeosang.

He always makes sure I'm not overworking with my book when I lose track of the hours. Whilst he makes sure to reassure Wooyoung with praises and sweet nothings everyday. Even Yeosang, he helps him with his traumas… assures him that he has them and that he isn't alone. 

Sannie, my first hybrid and I'd do everything to have him in my life – to be in his heart all over again.

“May this be the first life of many I live with you, you’re my reason to continue living”

Wooyoung… a sweet hyperactive fox.

He could go on for hours and hours doing any activity as long as he was having fun or with any three of us who joined him. 

He isn’t good at leaving the apartment either.

As much as he denies it he's still scared of me abandoning him one day. So when he does go out with me he's always glued to my side. Holding my hand or simply looping our arms.

He also feels the need to “make himself useful” since his previous owners had him do chores and cook for them since they were expecting a baby and were busy. 

His stress also gets him which is obvious because of how clingy he becomes and even picks at his own fur. His mind was constantly working and overthinking and I had to get used to praising him and reassuring him how much I loved him. 

It wasn’t hard but it hurt to know he needed constant reassurance to understand he’s loved by not only me but also to make sure he isn't a burden to San or Yeosang. 

He has a very bad mental health… one which will make him experience very long or even very short depressive episodes. 

In those days I spend most of my time in his room trying to offer him comfort. Sometimes we stay in silence or we’ll talk about nothing important for hours until we sleep in each other's arms. 

I owed Wooyoung a lot… he was there for me when I was in school and when my parents weren’t necessarily present in my life. He was there… he was always there and it's the least I could do for him. 

I’d be by his side for as long as he wants me. 

“I’ve loved you like it was love at first sight! My dream became a reality and I'm not ready to ever wake up”

Yeosang… my protective doberman.

I always found it interesting how my friends thought that San was the most protective and even though he is, San was a sweetheart. While Yeosang was intimidating. He hates the socialite life… in return doesn’t trust my friends. He also hates leaving the apartment, claiming it's his safe haven and always with his silly little nickname… angel. 

Claiming that's what I was… someone who saved him from his life in hell. Brought him back up, made him smile, and forgave him for his sins. He hates being reminded of his past… it's known that I had him and people will sometimes send me emails and texts to ask him for photoshoots. 

He, however, wanted to live a life of peace away from the media and the sins that others committed. 

He hates the attention, the photos, the videos, the whispers, and the gossip when he does come out with me. He’s a dog hybrid… he has good sight, good hearing… and good smell. He could tell when they gossiped about his prostitution background and even said horrid things. Not like he’d ever tell me what they said since… he didn’t want to make me sad or angry. He endured a lot… but he didn’t have to do it alone anymore. She was gone… and she’s never had a chance to get close to him again. 

If he saw me as his guardian angel, I’d act like it. I’d protect him with my life. 

“Why would I ever leave when I’m in paradise? Out there is hell, in here I have an angel looking over me” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[trulyhblue]

My Girl

Hayley Raso x Barcelona! Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, drinking, sport rivals, coarse language.

A/N — this photo of her after the Chelsea vs RMA CL game has me in a chokehold. A short but sweet one <3

_______________________

You met Hayley in a drunken embrace, breathing in the earthy chill that contrasted the firey ambience of the club.

You hadn't been starting for your Childhood team for a couple of weeks now, only just making the starting eleven today you went above and beyond in training. Barcelona was your home. You grew up in the city, raised with a football by your feet, and had been a part of the club for as long as you could remember. You were one of the many girls among the team who had never experienced life outside of the Spanish League, with no eminent efforts of changing that anytime soon. You had made your debut at seventeen, and over these past few years, you were lucky enough to see the team expand into one of the greatest women’s team in the world — arguably even the best.

While this came with certain bragging rights, and of course the utmost pride for the club, the safety and security that came with your position on the team were always at stake. Unlike other teams, Barcelona were ongoing in their endeavours to keep their players on their toes in regard to their contracts. This was most apparent in girls like you, who had been at Barca your whole life.

It was a constant battle to the top, but maintaining your status there was harder. You loved football. It was your passion, your dream, but it was also your career — a very demanding one, at that.

You had met Hayley in England when you were visiting Manchester to catch up with your close friend Ona. Ona was at United, thriving at the club in streaks, but her contract was ending with the reds. You were one of the first to know about the girl’s transfer to your club. You were so, so excited.

It was nearing the end of the season, the Manchester Derby being the game you watched, but you couldn't help but catch the eye of one of the girls on the opposite team.

Her name was Hayley, you knew that from the ribbon in her hair and the curls that fell from her flimsy bun. You watched her intently throughout the game, unable to peel your eyes off the woman as she threaded the ball in and out of her position on the wing. As a Winger yourself, you were able to easily admire her skill, despite the fact that you were in fact rooting for the other team. You were quick to make yourself known to her after the game, and everything sort of hit it off from there.

Hayley was kind. Her heart was full of gold, and her precious person was something you fell in utter love with. She made you laugh like no one else. She had a way of making you feel seen, heard, and thought of even if there were a million different things going on around you that looked to be more important. The two of you didn't even think about the physical distance that you’d have to face. The instant connecting made it impossible to break the bond you immediately had.

After a couple of weeks of talking back and forth, you had found yourself hopelessly enamoured with the Australian.

Ona announced her move to Barca in June, and your national team was preparing for the long and apprehensive task of the World Cup. Before, you thought yourself very lucky to be playing in such an important tournament with such talented played. You still think this now, but after meeting Hayley, all thoughts turned to the idea of being in the same country for a whole month together.

Obviously, you did not have much time to spend. Winning the World Cup was a dream come true. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. But your heart was yearning for only one thing.

Hayley had asked you to be your girlfriend on the day you were due back to Spain. Her surprising announcement to Real Madrid just before the Cup was nothing of a shock to you. While you played for the rival team — and maybe, sort of tried to convince the girl to try for Barca — you were over the moon that she was so much closer to you.

Now, months later, you were spending your evening in a bar with Aitana and Keira slung to your hip, slurring your words as you searched for your phone. The Barca girls were in Madrid after a critical match against Atletico Madrid, meaning the next few days were going to be by your Australian’s side.

“Ugh, calling the enemy, I see.” Keira quipped, rolling her eyes. Aitana giggled from beside her, watching your sluggish motions with a smug countenance.

You ignored their antics, ignoring their jokes and finding your girlfriend's contact on your phone. You didn't even register how it took a few seconds for her to pick up, but you realised she had been waiting by the sound of her keys.

“Heyyyyy, Hay.” You splattered, pulling down an inch of your heightening skirt. “Miss you so much, Babyyy.”

“Hello, darling.” You heard your girlfriend chuckle. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” You asked. You flipped Keira off when she mocked your whines.

“For me to pick you up, Darling.” Hayley replied.

“Hm,” You pondered for a moment, trying to remember why you wanted to call Hayley in the first place. “I'm in a bar, Hay.”

“I know. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Nooo, I've had no drinks.” You whined, pulling yourself up from the secluded corner you and the girls were nurturing. “Why are you calling?”

If you were shit-faced drunk right now, you would've caught onto the Aussie’s continuous patience, and the endearment in her tone as she talked to you.

“You called me, Babygirl.” She spoke, her side of the phone quiet in contrast to the blaring music you were surrounded by. “Maybe it's time for me to pick you up?”

“You can't pick me up, Ribbon.” you giggled, the fond nickname rolling off your tongue in second nature. “You're at home. I'm at a club.”

“Oh, yes, my mistake, Darling,” she responded quickly. Hayley was already driving to your location having been waiting for this call all night. You didn't know this, but she was slightly envious of your team taking you away. While you both lived in the same country now, it was still at least a five-hour drive between Madrid and Barcelona. Furthermore, it wasn't often that teams would stay after away games, so it frustrated her knowing you were spending time with a team you spent every day with when you could be with her.

“I'm on my way now, okay?” She said to the phone, knowing that despite the silence you were waiting for her to guide the conversation. “Do any of the girls need a lift?”

You gave a quick glance over to the group you were with. Alexia was scolding Mapi downing shots. Ona was trying to force water down Aitana’s throat, and Keira was just singing at the top of her lungs, swaying to the beat of the music.

“No, Alexia is here.” You put it simply. Everyone knew that if Alexia was near, everyone would be getting home safe.

Hayley must've heard you from over the music since she hummed back. “Alright then,” She answered, turning the corner towards the club. “I want you to go tell Keira or someone that you're leaving so they know you're going.”

You ran a hand through your hair, crossing your arms over your chest in silent rebuttal. “Keira’s drunk, Hayley.”

“Okay, then don't tell her, tell Aitana.”

“Oh, erm— she's drunk too.”

You could hear the girl’s sigh. “Put Alexia on the phone please, Baby.”

You did as you were told, handing the phone to your captain without managing to explain why you did so. The older woman shared a solemn conversation with your girlfriend before hanging up the call and turning to Ingrid.

With Keira and Aitana yelling out goodbyes, the Norwegian woman held the small of your back, leading you out of the club to make sure you did so without error.

“Love you, Ingrid.” You muttered, holding the back of the girl’s top as she led the two of you out.

“Love you too, Precioso.” She replied, smiling at your dazed expression before finding Hayley’s car pull up beside you. You watched your girlfriend walk out towards you, giving your teammate a slightly awkward, but grateful nod as you breathed in her familiar scent.

“Hey, Hay.” You gasped, grasping onto Hayley’s sweater in replacement of Ingrid.

“Hey, sweet girl.” She uttered, opening the passenger door, aiding your balance as you trampled in.

You made sure to give one last look at Ingrid, smiling as big as you could. “Love you, Ingrid. Miss you so so so so much.”

“Miss you too, y/n/n. See you soon.”

You found yourself relaxing in the passenger seat as Hayley drove off. Her hand sat comfortably on your thigh, drawing small, wistful circles as you hummed a quiet tune.

When you finally arrived home, Hayley helped you take off your makeup, taking off your shoes, and slotting her Matildas trackies and one of her old Portland Thorns shirts over the top of you. You were like putty in her grip, letting her lead you to the bed without a second to protest, engulfing the cool climate of the sheets.

“I'm ‘gonna go get some water and paracetamol for you, Darling. Do you want anything else?”

Your girlfriend held out her hand, lightly stroking the baby hairs that had fallen from her pony and onto her face.

“Do we have any food?” you asked, knowing the answer already but feeling the need to ask anyway.

The Australian nodded and walked out of her bedroom, taking a few minutes to collect everything she needed. When coming back, she noticed the furrow in between your eyebrows. The drunken endeavours of the night were inevitably going to catch up to you and Hayley knew you were starting to release that when you happily accepted the water and medicine in a few gulps.

Once the two of you had settled back into bed, with Hayley changing into her pyjamas, you had almost forgotten about your prior request when you heard the ruffle of a packet sound from beside you.

Your head shot up, eyes darting to the yellow cardboard box and concealed package within it. Hayley’s arm had found its way across your waist, pulling you into her side as she let the scent of the food waft into the space.

You laughed at Hayley’s look of delight — two Cheddar Shapes already popping into the girl’s mouth.

“Where did you get these?” You asked, watching Hayley’s devious smile widen.

“Fan gave them to me.” She replied, shoving three more into her mouth.

You two shared a still and silence as you cracked away at the biscuits one at a time. Madrid had fallen into a quiet city — no longer filled with the connotations of noise and light, the wholesome bubble of your bedroom filling the enmity of home for the night.

“You're so cute, ribbon.” you quipped, glancing over the blush that had dusted your girlfriend’s cheeks. Hayley pulled you closer, the box of the Aussie snack hushed off the bed.

You felt the warmth of her embrace overwhelm you into fatigue, the combination of one another's love steering you two into an eternity of solitude.

“You are too, my girl.”

___________________________

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

Hi darling,

I hope you’re good. Honestly, I’m astounded by the loveliness of your work. Your writing is so seamless and beautiful, and your ideas are alluring.

I hope you’re okay if I flood your inbox with requests soon.

I’d love to see what you can concoct for a Draco fic in my head. It’s such a shame we never got to deeply explore this character and his potential. So, here’s a hypothetical scenario: the reader is a muggleborn Gryffindor and a member of Golden Trio (or in this case, quartet). When she’s captured by the Snatchers and tortured by Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor, will Draco step up against his family to protect her?

I would love to see your take on this🤍

all too well

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of torture and dissociation, swearing !not proofread! (Obvi), English isn't my first language so excuse the mistakes 🤍

thank you for this idea, I tried my best ❤️

"What else did you take?", the woman shouts.

She has been screaming like this for minutes, hours, days. You don't remember how long you have been laying on the marble floor, how many times the cruciatus curse has hit you.

You don't remember where you are or who the woman is.

She has black curly hair and an angry face that resembles Andromedas if you look close enough.

She points her knife at you, plays with it in front of you to scare you; when she gets bored or annoyed she hits you, with curses that make your whole body tremble and burn.

The room is spinning, the tall walls seem to keep growing taller and you constantly have to fight to keep your eyes open and search for the light.

The floor hurts your head as the woman throws you around; "How did you get it" she keeps asking," what else" , she shouts.

Your brain can't form the answer she demands, and your eyes can't help but let tears fall.

As you look away you make out more faces.

Three people, two of them looking at you with a strict face, you deserve this, the say without having to speak, it is written all over their eyes.

One of them however looks at you with a scared face, his eyes tremble as they scan your body, not entirely sure what he is looking for. He knows you are hurt, he knows he can't help you, but he keeps looking, doesn't let you go, he stays with you.

You stare into his eyes, cold and silver, burning you with one look. His hands hold his wand with a tight grip, turning his knuckles white.

Who are you, you wonder. You must be important, you think to yourself; you feel important.

Please remember him, you beg yourself. The woman keeps screaming, keeps hurting you but you can only focus on him.

"Draco", the other woman whispers.

Draco.

And with that you remember everything.

Many years ago, when you didn't have to run for your life and survive in the woods;

When home was the red and golden common room, and your three best friends;

When the only things that bothered you were Ron stealing food from your plate and History of Magic class lasting way too long;

you had fallen in love

It was doomed from the start, you knew that of course. You were a muggleborn witch and he was a Malfoy, a pureblooded purist Slytherin; how could it ever work out between the two of you?

You remember the first few years, how his constant insults at you and your friends left you fuming and screaming.

You relive quidditch matches, how sure of himself he was before every match and how he would look at you with a sneer after losing to you.

You can still hear his annoying comments during class or before duels. Shut up Malfoy, you used to shout at him

"Shut up.", you mumble as you remember your past and the woman hits you with another curse.

Then your thoughts take you back to last year.

Draco Malfoy had gotten taller over the summer, his hair had also grown he had dropped his usual sleeked-back look that you mocked. You always knew he was handsome, like you also knew he was a shallow asshole. He was more quiet though, didn't seem to pay attention to his friends or to his teachers.

You would often find him alone; walking in the corridors with a skeptical look on his face.

One particular night you caught yourself tossing and turning in your bed. You were afraid; afraid that you wouldn't be able to save your parents or your friends from Death Eaters. You felt sorry for Harry, you wanted to help him carry the burden that was forced on him all those years ago.

School was also stressing you out, and all these thoughts formed a heavy burden that sat on your chest every night. So you decided to give up hopes of sleep and dreaming and let your feet carry you down the dark and quiet corridors.

That same night you spotted Draco Malfoy rushing somewhere on his own.

You don't remember why but you decided to follow him; maybe it wasn't exactly a decision that you made, but more of a pull that you felt.

You recall walking and turning, going up stairs and getting lost in the hallways.

As you turned one more time, you were met with two angry gray eyes looking at you intensely.

"Why are you following me?", he said.

"Where are you going?", you replied as you raised your wand.

Quickly accuses started flying out of your mouth, "Harry was right, you are with them.", you remember screaming at him and then flying backwards from a spell he cast on you.

“Shut up.” He shouts “You have no idea what is happening.”

"Are you helping them? Do you have any idea what you are doing?" you continued screaming as you stood up.

You remember then how he dropped to the floor and caged his face with his hands.

"I don't know what to do. I don't have another choice." he kept repeating more to himself than to you.

Up to that point Draco Malfoy was to you a spoiled rich wizard, who couldn't see past his privilege and his family's name.

He was cruel to your friends and a blood purist. He was a Death Eater.

But the way he looked now; like a helpless boy made you realize how little say he had in his life.

You knelt down next to him and said softly "Why don't you tell Dumbledore, maybe he can help?".

He laughed mockingly at that and replied "Dumbledore can't save anyone, let alone me."

You stayed in silence kneeling next to him for minutes, trying to think of a way out.

"Malfoy" you broke the silence "Whatever you are doing for them, delay it."

He raised his head and looked at you.

"Delay it, until we find a way to fix this.", you finished

"Why would you even bother and help me? They want to kill people like you; they-", he said but didn't finish

they are killing people like me you finished in your head for him.

For a few moments you couldn't say anything; he was right. You should just go to Dumbledore and tell him everything; let him deal with that, but you couldn't leave him alone.

You couldn't refuse help to the person who needed it the most. Even if he would never ask for it; perhaps that was precisely why.

"It's the right thing, isn't it? Someone has to do it.", you exclaimed

"How very Gryffindor of you." he said with a roll of his eyes and then out of nowhere "Thank you."

"You have to work with me, trust me; in order for this work.", you said and he agreed.

With that began secret meetups and words of comfort.

You weren't enemies or friends. You were a team.

You were the person that helped him through everything, the one who listened when he cried and offered him a shoulder to lean on when everything broke down.

It was strange at first; but it was the right thing to do, and you were brought up to do just that.

You quickly learned that his company was nice; he was nice.

He could be funny when he wanted to and you found out that you had a lot in common.

“Why do you act so different in front of everyone?”, you asked him once.

“Different how?”, he asked back

“Like an emotionless selfish dick” you replied easily “When in reality, you care and protect those you love.”

“Sod off” he said and then “Even if that were true, I suck miserably at it.”

“The protecting or the caring part?”, you asked with a calm voice

He looked at you then with a curious look before turning away and sighing “Both.”

"Both." you whisper now and he can barely hear it.

"What?" the woman shouts, thinking you have an answer to her questions.

"What?", you remember shouting at him when he revealed his plan to you; their plan to kill Dumbledore and attack the school.

"Be quiet!.", he insisted, you could tell by his eyes he was distraught too; he didn't want this- didn't want any of it.

"I did everything I could to slow it down, I shouldn't even be telling you this; they will kill us both.", he muttered as every flicker of hope inside him was dying out.

"I am telling you this to protect you, win you some time, go.", his eyes were ice cold, piercing through you and his hands were griping your arms tightly; almost shaking you.

You couldn't say anything; you remember feeling as if everything he had just told you was fake. Dumbledore couldn't die, Draco wouldn't kill him, he couldn't.

And Hogwarts, your home for all those years, couldn't be attacked by them. It was the safest place on Earth.

Until it wasn't.

That was the last conversation you had with him. After that you weren't sure you would ever see him again.

You followed Harry; of course you did, you couldn't leave him alone, not after everything he'd been through and everything you witnessed together.

You thought about Draco often; mostly at night when everyone was asleep and nature kept you company; you stared into the night sky and tried to find his constellation.

You thought you could talk to him that way; "I am alright" you would say "Are you?" you always asked.

But no answer came.

You would replay every interaction, every conversation. You tried to remember his features; the exact grey of his eyes and his blonde hair. His look when he smiled (which wasn't often) and the way he played with his wand when he wanted to avoid your eyes.

Nothing ever happened between the two of you; nothing physical at least. Because the safe haven you two built had to have meant something.

Everything fell apart when you were caught.

You were alone and hurting; your friends were at best locked up somewhere and you couldn't think of a way out.

You couldn't think.

All you could feel was pain; everywhere

And then you saw Draco and every interaction; every feeling started playing again inside your head. You began living every moment from when you met him up to your last conversation.

"Go!" that is what he said to you then.

It was unbearable; you kept losing him over and over again, the story kept replaying and you couldn't pause it.

You couldn't stop and marvel at the good moments.

The way he held your hand when he needed comfort but didn't know how to ask for it;

Or his laugh when you both remembered your early years; how you both knew nothing, weren't prepared for the nightmare that would follow.

"Make it stop.", you heard his voice say and it took you back to third year and his constant complaining during Care of Magical Creatures.

"Stop.", his voice said again, closer now. “She clearly doesn’t know anything, we are wasting our time.” He kept repeating.

It is real, you realized, it isn't your memories or your fantasy, it is him.

As you move your head to get a closer look at him you hear footsteps getting close.

You hear your friends and then realize they aren’t alone, they’ve got help. We might survive this, a voice inside tells you.

All that hope crumbles down as the woman, Bellatrix you remember, grabs you and points her wand at you.

“No one moves.” She says slowly; her eyes wide open scanning the faces of everyone.

She doesn’t see Draco though, who shoots a Bombarda at her and quickly runs to your side.

His parents stand still and shocked, his fathers eyes darkening as time passes.

“What have you done?” He asks him and then Bellatrix gets up to start running towards you.

It’s chaos; what happens next. Spells shooting everywhere, wands flying out of hands. You can’t keep your eyes open for a long time, can't keep yourself up, you feel hands; his hands holding you tightly, never letting you fall.

And then you all land somewhere before the world darkens.

You can hear waves crashing into the shore and the smell of salt air fills your lungs.

You open your eyes slowly and let out a hiss as you feel pain everywhere.

Sprawled out and asleep on a chair in the corner of the room you see Draco and then your eyes land on Harry sleeping next to you.

You wake him up with a gentle nudge on his head and he smiles.

“What happened?” You ask.

He needs a few minutes to fully wake up and grasp the fact that you really are awake and alright.

“It was a bloody nightmare, but you’re awake now. I’ll go get Ron and Hermione. We have been taking turns watching you.” He says in a rush and gets up

“Wait, what is he doing here?” You asked

“He helped, hasn’t left your side since, didn’t bother with his injury without healing you first.”, Harry said not amused at first but then a sincere look painted his face.

“You have a lot of explaining to do” he warned “but later”

You just watched him exit the room and tried to process what he had just said to you.

“Potter is always loud then”, said Draco sarcastically and his voice made you jump a little. “Sorry.”

You couldn’t say anything back to him, you couldn’t even believe he was there.

He stood up and made slow strides to get close to you, until he reached your bed and sat at the spot near your feet.

You saw then the injury Harry was talking about, he had bandages starting from his shoulder tightly wrapped around it and ending down to his chest.

“What happened?” You say softly and point at the white bandages.

He let out a laugh at that “Unbelievable.” He exclaimed.

“What” you said annoyed, your eyebrows raised in a funny way that reminds him of arguments in classes and loud corridors.

“It’s” he stammered “You” and as he stared at your face with a look filled with adoration he said “Nothing.”

He swallowed loudly and explained with an amused look on his face “Got stabbed with a knife, by lovely aunty Bella.”, he pointed at the spot under his shoulder, close to his heart.

And then you remember the Manor, his aunt; Bellatrix and the questions.

Your face darkened at that and your body started shaking lightly- you hadn’t realized until you felt Draco’s hand on your shoulder rubbing lightly “You are okay, we are safe here.”

“We?” You asked and felt tears running down your cheeks “How- why are you here? What have you done?”

He smiled at you and replied “You said so yourself. I protect the ones I love.”

“I just wish I was better at it. Fix my timing and all.” He joked at the end

You really started crying then and felt him getting closer “I am sorry I didn’t do anything sooner, I should have stopped her. I am sorry.”

You felt yourself staining his shirt with your tears but couldn’t bring yourself to stop or talk; couldn’t say anything to comfort him. So you only shook your head it’s fine now, you are here.

You felt his tears falling on your head and held him closer.

The past didn't matter right now; your friends reaction could wait and the War would be won, you were sure of it.

Now, you would figure it out together; just like before.

bonus:

-So, how much longer do we have to stand here and watch- that?

-As long as we have to Ronald, be quiet now!

fin

So, um as usual I am deeply sorry for any mistakes!

Also, this was very out of my comfort zone and I am not mad about it at all, I just hope it lives up to your expectations a tiny bit and I also hope you enjoyed it.

Till next time

xx

[voltronisanobsession]

Heyyy can you please do Keith Kogane x a reader who is a space princess?? I love your work btw!!

Keith Falls for a Space Princess Headcanons

Thank you so much, I’m so happy you enjoy my writing!!! I hope you don’t mind that I did headcanons💔 I found this so cute bro I CANT 😭

Also I got another request similar to this one so I’ll debate if I’ll write a different scenario or not!!

Keith’s first impression of you wasn’t anything too extraordinary

Lowkey believed that you would just be another person they rescued from the Galra💀

But once finding out that you were a space princess like Allura, coming from a long line of ancient alchemists and sorcerers, it really peaks his interests

Depending on if you meet before he finds out he’s part Galra or after, that’ll start off the relationship

If we’re talking before, it would be a relatively chill introduction

Being a space princess often gathers you a lot of recognition but Keith captures your attention because of his lack of interest

While you’re used to many treating you with high respect, Keith just treats you normally, with the same tough attitude he has with everyone!

He basically treats you like a normal person, something you haven't felt in a loonnngg time💔

But if it's after he finds out he's part Galra and reveals it, then things would be REALLY tense, on your end at least...

The Galra have made you and countless others suffer for centuries, so knowing one of the paladins of Voltron, who are working to rid of the Galra Empire, is galran himself 😶

Yeah you're especially tense around Keith, untrusting toward him which bothers him for some reason

BUT MOVING ON

Of course, your own curiosity toward the boy ultimately leads you to spending more time with him

At first, he might find your lingering presence somewhat annoying since he isn't used to someone giving him all this extra attention

Always asking him questions during his training, sticking with him when out on missions

At one point, Keith gets used to your presence, a sense of normalcy falling between the two of you quickly as the weeks pass quickly

He opens himself up to you slowly, giving pieces of himself and his life to you while you do the same :D

He'll give you slivers of what his life was like on Earth while you share your own stories of life on your planet

He learns more about your culture, your duties as a princess, and even the history of your ancestors (something which you take pride in)

Because of the amount of time spent together, you guys grow close with every new mission and planet Voltron visits

And with this, this means that Keith begins to grow kinda protective of you?

LIKE LISTEN

He starts caring for you as time passes and he doesn't know exactly when things have been changing between the two of you??

He doesn't know when he began staring at you more often, he doesn't know when he began anticipating your arrival every morning, and he ESPECIALLY doesn't know when his heart began fluttering at the mere sight of you

Maybe it was the elegance that seemed to permanently stick to you after years of being in a royal court

Or maybe it was your constant nagging whenever he was around, sneaking past the walls he built around his heart

Or perhaps it was the caring hand you placed on his shoulder whenever his emotions got the best of him

He would totally go to Coran about possibly courting you because why not LMAO

Coran knows how princesses are supposed to be courted (hopefully), Keith just wants to impress you the best he can and fully believes only Coran holds the secret

So you’re just witnessing him falling over his own feet trying to approach you with uptight mannerisms while Coran watches his every move from afar

“For you my, uh, lady?” *holds out flower*

Cue Coran whispering loudly, “Good, good!”

Despite how endearing it is to see Keith try and keep up with the traditional courting, you have to reassure him that you don’t mind that he isn’t apart some royal family (he’s lowkey insecure that you might prefer someone with a similar background as you)💔💔

You like him for him, not caring for his status at all

With that, you both have a good flowing relationship, his intense personality softening with your own pleasant personality

He learns to control his emotions because of you while you learn to show more of your own because of him!!

You also show him the sort of sorcery you’re able to do, having learned from a young age to harness the power that resided into, which he finds SUPER cool and kinda confusing

He’s trying his best to understand😔

He still sometimes feels like he isn’t enough for you though so please PLEASE make sure to tell him other wise😭🙏🙏🙏

He holds you in a high regard because of your status as a princess, he makes sure to tell anyone he comes across that so they treat with respect😭😭

You’re lowkey embarrassed when he begins bragging about your heritage like bro stop😭

Yeah despite this, he still manages to not associate you with only being a space princess, but an honorary member of Voltron

He’s super soft for you I can’t😭😭

[waldau-archived]

hi!! i really love the way you write for wonwoo♡♡♡ could i request wonwoo+friends to lovers(something like she fell first but he fell harder kinda trope?)

thank you so much anon! also you're my first ever request! i hope i did this trope justice, because as much as i love established relationships i don't think i've ever really done much for friends to lovers.

crush — jeon wonwoo | 2,193 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

it hits wonwoo like a sledgehammer.

he's glad he's already sitting in his usual seat at the table, because there probably couldn't be a worse time to realize he's in love with you. when you're out on a date with someone else, and when these dates look like they're going to become a steady fixture in your life; something that he's going to have to learn how to make peace with.

wonwoo doesn't just love you. he's in love with you, and he's grappling with the realization of how many months he's missed without knowing the extent of his own feelings for you.

he wishes there was some manual that told him what to do when you had feelings for your roommate. when said roommate happened to be your best friend you'd try to ask out if you weren't so afraid of ruining the friendship.

since the end of high school and the beginning of college, wonwoo's always had you by his side — whether it be in the same classes, or the same friend group — hell, he's lost count of the number of nights you spent together, watching movies instead of trying to get some sleep for the next day.

(maybe there was a reason why he chose horror movies sometimes, even though you were scared of them.)

he thinks back to all the times your friends joked you were practically dating — that never annoyed him. he was merely surprised at the idea of dating you. you had always been his best friend; nothing more. you were a constant fixture in his life that he didn't see in any other way.

but now? wonwoo wishes he could turn back time and see what could have happened. would you have had the same inside jokes you do now, the same ease that comes with learning to co-exist by carving each other's shapes into your lives?

he looks up from his laptop at the sound of the wind rattling the windows. but he's the only one home.

you're out on your second date in the past two weeks with this guy named seungcheol. for the past two weeks, wonwoo hasn't been able to put a finger on why he hasn't been so keen on this guy you're seeing, despite the fact that seungcheol sounds like nothing but a gentleman.

and now he knows why.

he's heard a lot about how funny and smart and nice seungcheol is, from taking you to your favourite restaurant for a date to leaving you at your doorstep at the end of your night out.

wonwoo wants to argue that he, too, does the same thing for you. he holds doors open for you and gives you his beanie when you're cold and lets you have his popcorn when yours is done, but you just don't see him that way. and he doesn't know what to do to make you see him that way.

he focuses on his laptop again. the words all seem jumbled, and he's pretty sure he's been on the same page for the past half hour. so he takes his glasses off and lets his eyes rest. only to remember the time you took his glasses off when he was almost about to fall asleep on the sofa.

you're loving. it's something he's learned from you. you're always looking out for others, always concerned, wanting them to know you're there in the subtlest ways possible.

wonwoo always wants you around, and now has an irrational worry that he won't have you for much longer. his heart starts hurting — really, physically hurting, like a deep pain in his chest that can't be satiated by anything. he didn't know it was possible, but it's all he can feel right now.

he tries to think about anything else. those few people he'd dated back in college, whose names he can't even remember now. he hasn't dated anyone in the past two years since you graduated, got a job and moved into this flat together.

wonwoo hadn't known what to expect when it came to living with you, because as much as you were best friends, you'd never shared a living space together beyond a night's time. now over the course of the last twenty five months, he's become accustomed to you, and he's afraid he's ruined it all by realizing he's fallen in love with you far too late.

part of that is definitely your fault, he reasons. he wouldn't blame seungcheol for falling in love, either.

the thought of you on your date hurts him enough that he picks up his pen and scratches something on the notepad lying next to his laptop. his strokes are harsh and drawn without care, but when he stops, it's a rough sketch of your favourite flowers.

he lets out a bitter laugh. everything always circles back to you, in the end.

you don't ask for anything on your birthday, but wonwoo always gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers alongside your gifts, because he knows how much you love them.

he wonders if seungcheol knows they're your favourite.

he's shaken out of his thoughts when you open the door to your shared house and step inside, almost tiptoeing, like you're afraid of making noise. you freeze when you see him looking at you. he wonders how long he's been sitting there, mind blank but also filled with thoughts of you. it's eating him up like a slow poison from the inside, but he forces himself to hold your gaze.

you look amazing. more than that, you look happy.

he's not jealous. he's never jealous when you're happy. but he just wants you to be happy with him, and he doesn't know if he's enough.

he wants to know what it'd be like to take you out. he wants to know everything that makes you smile, because he still learns something new about you almost every day. he wants to know what it's like to hold hands with you, kiss you goodnight, and wake up every morning knowing you're there by his side and his side only.

he wants more than he can possibly have.

"hey, wonwoo," you say, shutting the door behind you before you take off your shoes. "couldn't sleep?"

"no. i wanted to wait till you came back."

you frown at him. "i told you not to."

as if he could ever do that. whether you go out on dates, or to parties with your friends, wonwoo can't relax till he knows you're back home, safe. he just shrugs. this is one thing he'll always be stubborn about.

"did you have dinner?" you ask, ruffling his hair and moving past him to presumably fix yourself a snack before you go to bed.

"yeah," he says, looking back at the laptop. the letters are still jumbled, so he cleans his glasses before putting them back on. "unless last night's pizza doesn't count."

"that's a lot of words for no," you say. "are instant noodles okay?"

"of course."

wonwoo watches as you move around, putting back today afternoon's dried dishes into their respective places and filling a glass of water for yourself.

"did you have fun tonight?"

"yeah," you say, a smile on your face. "cheol picked out this movie i've been wanting to watch for a while. then we went to this hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surprisingly nice. and then he dropped me home."

wonwoo tries not to react at the nickname you already have for him. he's not jealous, but it's getting harder to convince himself of that. he looks at your jacket. it looks...not quite your style.

"is that new?" he asks, pointing at it.

"what? oh, this? seungcheol asked me to return it to him the next time. it was pretty cold today."

wonwoo's hand crumples the note before he realizes. next time? why couldn't he have realized how much he loved you before all of this had to happen?

"you okay?" you ask, turning around to look at him. "come here and tell me if it tastes fine."

"it's just instant noodles," he pretends to grumble, but waits for you to feed him some. he can see you're a bit tired. he wishes you'd fall asleep on him, the way you do when you're stubborn enough to want to keep him company with whatever he's doing.

"tastes good," he hums, licking his lips.

did he just imagine your eyes looking at them before they moved back to his face?

"great. hand me those bowls from there?"

you using him for his height is a running joke he hopes never gets old. wonwoo takes out the cutlery too, but stops when he sees an angry red line on your hand.

"what happened to you?" he asks, holding your hand so he can see it clearly. he tries not to think about how much bigger his hand is. the cut isn't bleeding, but it's still there, starkly visible against your skin.

you hesitate. "i'm not sure. i remember my hand hit something in the cafe, but i didn't see it till now."

"and you didn't bother checking it once you got home?"

you look at him. "i didn't even feel it that much, woo."

"you could have tetanus for all you know!"

"it's just a cut! it's hardly that ser—"

you stop talking when wonwoo switches on the tap and turns off the stove. "take this off," he says, pointing to the jacket. it shouldn't even be in your home. he shouldn't be feeling like this in the first place.

you comply wordlessly, hand limp in his as he washes it thoroughly, before patting it dry with the towel near the sink and finding a bandaid in the cabinet above. you have a propensity for getting hurt randomly and wonwoo's glad to be prepared.

"done," he says, letting go of your hand. you're still looking at him.

"kiss it better?" you ask. there's a mischievous look in your eyes.

and who is he to refuse? he takes your hand back, gently pressing a kiss to it, making sure it's not too forceful. when your eyes meet again, he gets the feeling there's something in the air. even you seem to be aware of it. it's like the tipping point before the scales lose their balance, like the calm before the storm; it's now or never.

"one more time?" you ask, moving a bit closer. wonwoo swears he forgets how to breathe. and he definitely isn't imagining your eyes on his lips this time.

"always," he says, before he leans down to press his lips to yours.

it's magic. there's no other word for it. wonwoo feels like he's transcending worlds when he feels your lips against his, trying to press yourself into him when you wrap your hands around his waist.

when you pull apart, wonwoo swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life. this is what he wants, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to find out what could have been.

"please don't go out with him again?"

"...what?"

wonwoo swallows, letting go of your hand. his bravery now comes and goes like waves on the seashore, tides threatening to spill out everything he feels about you in one careless motion.

"i don't want you to go out with him again."

"because...we kissed?"

"because i'd never let you get hurt if you were with me."

"you...what?"

"i like you," he says, taking a step closer. "i don't know what that meant to you, but i like you so much, and i hate that it took me this long to realize it. i want...i want you to give me a chance."

"you like me?" you ask, voice smaller than before.

he nods. "i want to...take you out on a date. wherever you want. i want to make you laugh. it's been killing me, thinking about you with him."

"oh, my god," you say, burying your face in your hands. wonwoo's heart drops. "why would you— i've been trying to get over you all this while, going out on dates with him so i can stop thinking about you that way, and now you're just...giving me what i've always wanted?

wonwoo feels like he's been drenched in ice-cold water. "you like me?" he parrots. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulls you in for a hug. even this simple gesture suddenly feels like a brand new thing in the light of your recent confessions.

your hands find their place around his waist again, your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "of course i do. i'm surprised you didn't realize earlier. it's been...a while."

this is news to him. "how long, exactly?"

you bow your head, not meeting his eyes, "i'm not telling you now."

"you can't hide anything from me, you know."

he can feel your smile against his chest. "i know. let me just have this for now?"

"forever."

you tighten your grip around his waist and just stand with him.

wonwoo makes a mental note to get you a bunch of real flowers.

[fallofcyber]

The Susan Foreman/Susan Twist Theory

So ever few years the Doctor Who fandom seeks to ask the question What about Susan, and Because of this new season the Theories have started back up again so lets look at the evidence.

Pre-Devil's Cord: It was speculated that Susan might return this season, the main evidence point is a woman we all have been calling "Susan Twist" based on the name of her actress.

Many people are speculating that based on this actress' name that there is a 'Twist' involving a 'Susan'. Now I wouldn't put it past RTD to create a season plotline purely based on an actress' name, but to state that this 'evidence' is a stretch is a massive understatement. So pre-Devil's Cord a crackpot theory that insists on speculating about the return of a Classic series Time-Lord, similar to the constant theories about The Rani, Omega, or even Morbius.

Post Devil's Cord: Now we finally have a solid piece of evidence, an explicit callout to Susan. In fact I believe the first time Susan is mentioned by name since the revival, when the Doctor is telling Ruby about his life on Totter's lane.

So we have two through-lines this theory hopes to connect. The Susan Twist mystery box, and an explicit call out to Susan Foreman. Now this callout to Susan seems incredibly deliberate, almost like it's attempting to introduce new audiences to the character. Plus the Doctor also speculates on her current status, whether she is alive or dead.

Also I'll bring up the 'Always a Twist at the End' song from the end of The Devil's Cord. Not only being a meta commentary on the nature of seasons of Doctor Who, but also a play on words referencing 'The Twist' a type of dance. There's always a twist, thus there is always a Susan Twist.

Post-Boom: We have a new Susan Twist cameo

and it's creepy ambulance lady. Currently the Susan Twist cameo hasn't added anything to the theory post Boom, but lets looks at something else for a second.

Varada Sethu

This is Varada Sethu who has been confirmed to be joining the TARDIS along with Ruby and the Doctor.

She shows up in Boom as the character Mundy Flynn. Now this could easily be another instance of an actor having a bit part in Doctor Who before Colin Baker, Freeman Agyeman, Peter Capaldi, Karen Gillan. However Russel has stated that the situation is more complicated than that. Specifically bringing up when Jenna Coleman showed up in Asylum of the Daleks before making her debut later in season 7.

Some speculation theorized that Varada Sethu's character was a regenerated Susan Foreman, but after Boom I believe something else is going on.

So this is all linking back to my 'The Doctor is trapped in a television show' Theory

( https://www.tumblr.com/fallofcyber/750149486367621120/okay-absolutely-off-the-wall-doctor-who-theory?source=share )

I think I might have an idea that could solve both the Susan Twist and Verada Sethu mystery. What if they aren't just reused actors on the show Doctor Who, but are reused actors in the show within the show. As in the reason we are seeing this actor show up in multiple places is because they are literally being recast in universe.

So in conclusion I do believe Susan Foreman to have some sort of relevance to the story, but I don't think she is at all connected to Varada Sethu or Susan Twist. Maybe she has a connection to Susan Twist, but I don't think they are one in the same.

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

My pupils

Ungrateful, Arrogant, Lazy, there were many words Kalego could use to describe his students. Many of them were imbeciles. Undisciplined. Hence why he was placed in charge of such a rowdy bunch.

He had had troublesome students before. It was no different than any other year he taught at the school. However... he never took into account how difficult the next few years would be.

To think it all started with one brat! The grandson of the chairdemon himself. He honestly wished he could have gone back in time and retired as soon as he heard about the attendance of such a creature.

His foolish pride had thought he could tame such a wild child within a few days. Having him easily under heel. He couldn't have been more wrong.

That little menace had the nerve to prove him wrong! Having no respect for authority and tuning him into a familiar. The audacity!

It wasn't just him that caused the teacher such a headache. No, he had twelve other rascals to handle as well. What did he do in his past life to enable such torture?

Individually, it probably wouldn't be so bad. But no... he had them all together. Everyday... for the next 6 agonizing years.

He often wondered if he'd survive such a daunting task for so long. Of course, his pride wouldn't allow him to quit. It would be shameful on both the school and his name if he were to do so.

So, as much as it pained him, he would stay. Despite the urge to resign. Truthfully, someone would probably drag him back even if he were to do so. Another irritating reality.

Some things were easy to brush off. Such as Allocers constant questions and interest in obtaining more knowledge. Just answer plainly offering research materials for reference.

Or working around Kerori's work schedule as an idol. As well as sending her study aids so she doesn't risk lowering her grades. Practically child's play.

Now, dealing with Jazz's sticky fingers could be annoying. Forcing apologies out of the young demon and attempting to keep the greedy child humble.

Not that it helped since he had an enabler like Lied. The cocky little imp thinking he could get away with such childish pranks so easily. He often had to discipline the pair.

Speaking discipline... he still needed to figure out a proper punishment for Kamui... again. Why is it so difficult for that bird brain to understand that the female students don't appreciate such actions? He has the nerve to call himself a gentleman with such an attitude.

At least he could say he's also seen growth in some of his students. Take Sabro, for example. That prideful attitude of his was far more manageable than when the child first arrived. Far more humble.

Or Soi, who constantly hid. Now, he actively participates and interacts with his classmates. A vast improvement.

If only he could get Picero to stop sleeping in class. That would be preferable. Instead, he constantly has to smack the drowsy teen awake.

Goemon has a rather interesting positivity. Now if only he could somehow apply that to his grades. That would certainly make things easier.

He wasn't amused by Elizabetta's attempts to get better grades by using her bloodline magic or flirting. He constantly had to remind his coworkers not to go easy on her just because of her looks. Although he was quite proud of how she handled the music festival.

Then, there was the matter of Iruma's two main subordinates. Or friends as he called them. The chaos that those two caused alone was a mountain of paperwork.

Never in a million years did he think that such a vigorous student like Alice could be so blinded by one individual. It's as if the boy forgot about his own growth. Does he have no dignity?

... thinking that he probably doesn't. Seeing as he's so obsessed with his superior that it's borderline insane. Not that clara is any better.

Her grades aren't exactly the best. Her loud, rambunctious attitude disturbs the other students attending any class she's in. Honestly, he's not sure what to do with such a wild thing.

He's half tempted to keep her on a leash to ensure she doesn't wander off. Although knowing that gremlin, she'd easily escape. If only she focused that energy on her assignments.

Still, despite all their flaws. Ignoring their constants defiance to the higherarchy. He would still admit they were his pupils.

He was their teacher. He would guide them into becoming powerful demons. He'd see them all graduate on time even if it'd kill him.

[thedreamlessnights]

Give The Devil His Due - pt. 2

Gale x F!Reader

{part 1}

Warnings: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving and loss. Amnesia, self-hatred, guilt-tripping. Raphael being a dick.

Synopsis: Gale is back. He's real, and alive, and... he doesn't remember you. You should be happy, shouldn't you?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for your patience as I got this chapter out. Life has been crazy, essentially. Apologies for the angst - next chapter will be happier, I promise! We'll also see more Gale then ♥

You must have sat on this balcony a hundred times in the past year. More, maybe. Sometimes, Tara curled up on your lap as you read a book, her purring a constant comfort. Other times, you fell asleep watching the ships sailing by and woke in the darkness.

The view was always beautiful, even in the storms. Crystal-blue skies against an aquamarine sea. Lavender sunrises that swirled with orange. Dark clouds, streaked with silvery flashes of light and the bone-shaking crashes of thunder. You can certainly see why Gale favored it. 

Until about two hours ago, it was a place of comfort. Now, it feels wrong. Or rather, you do. 

Every inch of your presence feels out of place. A transplant, neatly sutured into surrounding skin only to be rejected a year later.

The moments after you’d kissed him are nothing but a blur in your memory. The sheer, utter horror when he hadn't known you. Morena’s voice taking on an edge of panic. Your feet moving you away - anywhere, anywhere where you couldn’t see the look on his face anymore. 

You’ve been sitting on this balcony ever since.

Before today, thinking of Gale was painful. Every thought was a fresh shard of ice plunging into the warmth of your chest, slowly thawing - until a new wound came to start the process over again. But it’s different now. 

It’d be easier to deny this situation, to pretend that it isn’t really Gale in that room, but you know better. You know that it’s him, just as you know that darkness will follow the sun’s fading light and greet you with the shimmering stars. 

Gale is alive, and he doesn’t know you. 

Gale is alive, and every memory of him - his face, his words, your old life - feels like it’s rotting away in your chest. You’re grasping at every thought, determined to keep him from slipping away, but there's only so much you can prevent.

Even you have to admit, it’s better than you’d expected of a devil’s deal. You’ve spent the last year picturing all the ways it could go wrong, laying out the risks and estimating the reward. If I word things in a specific way, you thought, if I prepare for the loopholes, then perhaps I can avoid the worst outcomes.

But a part of you had always known that you could have ended up like Mayrina. Dragging around a corpse just to cling to that tiny scrap of hope that Gale might return. 

Gods, you could have had so much worse. Why, then? Why had Raphael let you have this? What more could he possibly want from you?

This isn't the first time you’ve felt this way. During your travels, Astarion had made a deal with Raphael to learn more about the scars on his back, and the only thing required in return was Yurgir’s death. You made a deal to bring back the one you love, and you’ve gotten it only at the cost of his memories. 

 Your soul remains intact. Gale still knows his mother and his tressym. He’s alive. That’s enough, isn’t it?

No, your heart says. No, it isn’t. But you’ll survive, as you always have. You’ve had worse than this.

Nearby, there’s the rustling of fabric. You know who it is, even before she speaks.

“I thought I might find you here.” Morena’s voice is gentle, as though she’s afraid she’ll startle you away, but it’s filled with a fullness - a radiant warmth you’ve never heard before. She gives you a reassuring smile as she approaches, then sits at your side and reaches for your hand.

Your throat goes tight.

“My darling, I know this was your doing,” she says. Her voice is measured, as well as her face, but the crinkling at the corner of her warm brown eyes - Gale’s eyes - bleeds the joy she’s trying to hide into her expression. 

There’s no point in lying to her. She’s much too perceptive for that. All you can manage is a small nod in response.

“It’s really him,” she breathes. Her voice is suddenly thin. Hollow, almost. “I always thought… if we could even get him back, he wouldn't be himself. But it’s him.”

Tears sting at your eyes, hot and unwelcome. “I know,” you say. Your voice chokes at the last second. “He doesn't remember me.”

“No,” Morena murmurs, “he doesn't.” She squeezes your hand, resting her other hand on your shoulder. The comfort feels more like pity, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You’d known, but the confirmation still hurts to hear. 

“What does he remember, then?” you ask, slow and careful.

Hesitation flickers across her features. The hand on your shoulder slightly tightens. “You have to understand, he’s still very confused,” she starts. “His memories are muddled, grouped together. It’s entirely possible more will start coming back, if you just give him a little time-”

“Please, Morena,” you interrupt, desperate with anticipation. It’s always the not knowing that hurts you most. The cruelty of your mind that swirls out horrors that needn’t be there. “I need to know. Is it - is it everything but me? A hole in his mind where I used to be? How much of himself did he lose?”

She sighs, and her expression crumples. “It seems to be a… specific loss,” she says. “A cutoff point, really. Everything before the Netherese orb is perfectly intact. Everything after, well…”

She trails off, and her silence says the rest.

It isn't only you, then. It’s everything else you know of him. The tadpole, the Absolute, the Elder Brain. His friendships with the others. All the months of travel, and every single experience you shared. Even his year of isolation in the tower has been lost. 

His abandonment from Mystra; her charge for his life.

Something cold and numb blooms under your skin, trailing from the nape of your neck down your spine. Your lungs don’t quite seem to fill with air.

You’d hoped he wouldn't have to bear the burden of remembering his own death, but this… counting the time after his death, two years worth of life has been all but turned to ash. Morena doesn’t know of it, and Tara only knows glimpses. Your precious memories of him only encapsulate a few months of his loss. Is he still the man you fell in love with?

The spinning under your feet is making it difficult to think. You need to speak with Raphael. You don’t even know what you’ll say to him, but at this point it hardly matters. 

For a moment, you’re silent, almost forgetting Morena is there. Then, you remember her presence and swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “I don’t think we should… tell him about me,” you start. “All of this… it’s enough for him to take in already. I would only complicate things.”

She gently pats your hand. “Your kiss said more than enough enough,” she replies, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Gale is a smart boy. Believe you me, he’s already pieced it together. Aspects of it, at least.”

Gods, what had come over you, kissing him like that? If you hadn't been so impulsive - if you had just waited a little longer, this would have been much simpler. The split would have been clean. 

“Some time, then,” you land on. “I think it’s better for the both of us if I… if he - has time to process this. At least for now.”

Morena nods. “I can't pretend to know how incredibly difficult all of this must have been on you,” she says. “Whenever you need to come over, feel free. I’ll make an excuse for you.” 

She gives you a wink, then rises to her feet and places a kiss on the top of your head. “He’ll come back to you,” she whispers. “I know it.”

Her words linger long after she’s gone.

The moment you’ve stumbled your way home, you’re met with a burst of orange light in the kitchen. You don't bother looking for the source - the scent of cinnamon and honey in the air says enough.

“My, my. Whatever happened to our poor resident wizard?” comes Raphael’s voice, a few feet to your side. “How… unfortunate that he’s lost his memory, don't you think?”

You’re in no mood for his games. You toss your things to the floor and meet his gaze dead-on, staring daggers at him. “What do you want, Raphael?” 

“Tsk, tsk. What a temper,” Raphael purrs. “Aren't you satisfied? You got what you asked for. Gale Dekarios is alive and well. Of course, if you’re unhappy, I could always return him to the grave...”

You suck in a breath, attempting to dissipate your lingering fury. “I’m very happy,” you force out. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Raphael eyes you, tilts his head, and finally sprawls himself out on one of your chairs. He trails his fingers along the table, then hums. “You know, of your ragged little group, I’ve admired you in particular. Such ambition. You could have dominated the brain, had you really tried.” 

He pauses, and his gaze seems to sear straight into your soul as he looks at you. “Tell me, why did you let Gale sacrifice himself? Were you afraid of yourself, little mouse? Afraid that, given the chance, you’d have taken the power you so desperately wanted?”

Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, the way they always do when your brain decides to relive this moment. No merciful sensory images to distract you. Nothing but sheer agony, even now, when he’s alive.

Fear. It’s what you remember most about that day. Regret had come afterward, but first it had been fear and exhaustion and pain. Stiff joints. Fatigued muscles. How in the hells am I supposed to go on like this? you’d been thinking. How can I defeat the brain on nothing but fumes?

And with the fear had come temptation.

The voice of the Absolute was always a siren’s song in your ear. It was a path to complete control, to security and safety like you’d never known. No more humiliation, no more fear, no more pain. Nothing unless you wanted it, you commanded it. Even as shame and horror bled in your gut, keeping you from sleep, you ached for it.

With every inch closer to the Elder Brain, the temptation had strengthened. An itch that you could not stand not to scratch. A whisper in your mind that grew until you could hardly hear your own thoughts. By the time you’d reached the brain stem, it was so terrifyingly potent that you were ready to lay down your sword and end the internal battle you were undoubtedly going to lose. 

Anything to stop yourself from going down that road and betraying your friends. Anything to stop the vision of 

And when Gale had offered to use the orb, it had all been so fast… even now, you can't remember saying yes. Only that he’d insisted, despite your arguments. Just as you’d wanted to save him, he’d wanted to save you.

The rest is blurry, but still there. His last words. The helplessness you felt as his magic overtook you, teleporting you and the others to safety. The all-consuming panic as you met with the reality of what it meant for Gale Dekarios to die, much too late to stop him.

A flash of light.

And then, agony that never ended. 

When the memory releases you, your body is stiff and heavy, and your cheeks are wet and raw. Your chest throbs. You feel as though you’ve been hit by a Thunderwave. At your side, Raphael’s face drips with false sympathy. 

“Is that what you want to hear, Raphael?” you ask thickly. “That Gale suffered because of me? That I’m the reason he chose to use the orb?”

Raphael leans back in his seat. “I want to know one thing, and one thing only,” he replies. “Is Gale losing his memory a cruelty, or is it a mercy?”

You're silent, but your lack of reply must say enough.

“Really?” he muses, rising to his feet. “I see it as a mercy. The orb must have been dreadfully painful to detonate, after all. Not to mention the fear he felt as he plunged the knife into his chest.” 

Raphael steps closer, and though he doesn't touch you, you can feel his presence on your skin. “How terribly alone he must have felt in those last moments,” he murmurs, his voice honeyed but sickening in your ears. “Yes. What a relief to have that washed away.”

He smiles, and the tension in the room finally breaks. “On that note, I must take my leave. I’d love to stay, my dear, but I’m a busy man,” he says. “Watch over the wizard, won't you? I brought him back just for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he snaps his fingers, and he’s gone. 

You buckle over and wait for the pain to pass.

[wenella]

Zhu Yilong: 36 Years Old, An Actor's Prime

EN translation of Zhu Yilong's Elle China October 2024 Cover Issue Feature Interview by wenella

The art museum is located at the northeastern part of the island. The huge floor-to-ceiling window and the corridor create a natural picture frame. The clear sea is in full view; small islands afar float beneath the white clouds and sea gulls occasionally sweep across the sky. Zhu Yilong steps into the frame and completes this lively picture. The tires, ropes, fishing nets, and buoys that are lying silently by the pier, come alive because of his presence. His complexion is much darker than before. During this period away from the public eye, Zhu Yilong has spent time in the scorching sun and sea breeze experiencing his new role.

The sunshine, ocean, and sea breeze have shaped the Zhu Yilong we see standing before us. He has constantly given his all for every performance and role; he does it not only by changing his appearance but also seeking breakthroughs inside out by experimenting with different acting methods.

Zhu Yilong loves acting. Immersing himself in acting allows him to dispel noise and eliminate worries. Each time his acting transforms, refines, and sublimates quotidian realities of life into artistic realities, the creative process invigorates his heart. An outstanding actor can derive energy from his acting continuously and accumulate courage and perseverance from this constant cycle.

01. Away From City Life For his new film project, Zhu Yilong has been living on a small island, which is part of the Zhoushan archipelago, for the past two months. The vast sea surrounds this small island. One must temporarily abandon the convenience of city life to fathom what living is like in this oceanic wilderness. For example, food deliveries, mobile signal, and measurements of urban time such as calendars and clocks. These items are meaningless to fishermen and sea creatures. Fishermen pay attention to sunrises, sunsets, and tidal changes, as these factors impact their lifestyles. This is the rhythm of nature.

Zhu Yilong has gotten used to life without mobile signal. This has enabled him to focus on the present. “It’s good to be isolated from the world. Everyone is talking about the film and their roles. No one checks their phones. Everyone is immersed in this creative atmosphere.” Their accommodation has an open, communal space. After work, he would sit in this space and watch the sun set; the surrounding buildings would dim gradually and his heart would calm down as he listens to the rhythmic waves – feeling just like the sea beneath the moonlight, vast and quiet. Zhu Yilong may not be an extrovert, but this does not prevent him from interacting with others. Even if he only shares a few words occasionally, he enjoys the comfortable and relaxing atmosphere, just like a fish going with the flow of waves.

The life of an actor on the film set is like that of a fisherman. They work in the day and rest at night; life is orderly and follows a routine. Zhu Yilong feels that he is leading his ideal life now. If he had the luxury of taking a day off without the need to adhere to any restrictions, he would like to sleep, wake up naturally, and place a “crazy” order of food – preferably hotpot. The diet on this island has been relatively simple and monotonous. Besides, Zhu Yilong has been controlling his diet for his role for an extended period. His body fat has reached an ideal state due to his self-discipline, but this has also intensified his craving for delicious and spicy hotpot.

02. Enjoying the Moment of Epiphany Over the past two years, Zhu Yilong has received more scripts than ever. “My selection criteria differ yearly as my mood changes. It really depends on fate and the environment. If my mood resonates with a script at that moment, that’s it.”

To prepare for his new role, Zhu Yilong gradually tanned his skin and grew his hair and mustache. He also learnt free diving systematically on the set. He obtained his AOW (Advanced Open Water) diving license in Saipan as early as 2016, and showcased his diving skills when he filmed Reunion: The Sound of the Providence and Lost in the Stars. But free diving is different for him this time in Dongji Island as he needs to dive into deep waters without an oxygen tank. The main challenge of free diving is training the lungs. Beginners must learn to empty their lungs and stay underwater for a minute. Since breathing is basic human instinct, only those who have experienced this would understand how long and terrifying this minute could be. Being underwater without oxygen creates pressure on one’s body and mind. Imagine a fish that is taken out of water; it goes the same for humans. When one’s lungs are emptied for a few seconds, the diaphragm starts to spasm and the feeling of panic and near death would propel one out of the water.

“How to overcome this fear? By training, testing my limits, and telling myself to relax when my diaphragm starts to spasm,” Zhu Yilong said. When one is underwater, they are isolated from the outside world, and they can hear themselves very clearly. “The training process is like meditation. You need to use your will to force yourself to empty your brain. Once you are focused, time will pass very quickly. Now, I can complete two minutes of actions in a 9-meter-deep pool.”

To a certain extent, getting into character is like diving; both processes involve progressing from tension to relaxation. Zhu Yilong gets nervous easily whenever he prepares for a film. The more he prepares for the character, the more uneasy he becomes. “All prior work is done based on your imagination, your discussions with the crew, and your ideas of enriching the character. Before the character appears before the camera, there is absolutely no way to find out how he will turn out. You need to be in a specific setting, before a rolling camera, and suddenly one day, the moment of epiphany will strike and you get into character.” For Zhu Yilong, this process can last for several days – three to five days at the shortest, and nine to ten days at the longest. But when the moment occurs, he would feel immensely inspired and relaxed, as though embraced by warm ocean currents. There would be no need to think about other things. He just had to go with the flow and enjoy the simple pleasure of becoming his character.  

03. With Age comes Tolerance Zhu Yilong turned 36 this year, just like ELLE. Three decades. In his opinion, 36 is the prime time of an actor’s career. He is mature and energetic enough to play any character or try any genre. “The first decade in this industry involves training and learning. We had to act and accumulate experiences before we are noticed by directors. Over the past five years, I was able to leverage my experiences that I have accumulated and tried my best to create my characters. I had more opportunities to create different roles and I did not want to waste any of these opportunities that were given to me.”

Zhu Yilong is very expressive whenever he talks about acting. He said he wanted to make movies and try different genres and characters. He would love to take on more roles, but his schedule only permits him to take on two to three projects annually. Since college, Zhu Yilong has always admired Actor of a Thousand Faces - Daniel Day-Lewis. Till now, he still remembers the film My Left Foot (1989) recommended by his teacher and the moment when he saw the actor use his left foot to handle a roll of film skillfully. Subsequently, Zhu Yilong studied Daniel Day-Lewis’ films carefully, such as Gangs of New York (2002), There Will Be Blood (2007), and Lincoln (2012). He hopes that one day, his acting career would be like that of Daniel Day-Lewis’; every role that he creates would allow the audience to immerse themselves in the film and forget what he originally looked like.

For Zhu Yilong, seeking personal breakthroughs isn’t exactly daunting. This is something that can be accomplished any time. He hopes to receive roles that require a wider range of acting as that will excite him. “The greatest advantage that has come with age is my tolerance for mistakes.” Zhu Yilong said that during his first few years of filming, he was particularly afraid of making mistakes and hearing the director shout NG. He hoped that every scene could be done in one take and that he could meet the director's best imagination of the character accurately. However, he gained a better understanding of the art of acting over the past decade and gradually realized that making mistakes was perfectly normal. Most of the time, an actor's imagination of a scene does not necessarily translate into his performance. That is why actors should practise trial and error on the set and adjust their acting step by step to achieve an accurate performance. “Now, I’m no longer afraid of making mistakes. I won’t obsess over what the correct answer might be. I just think about the different possibilities and offer the director more choices.”

In a way, overcoming the fear of making mistakes demonstrates his psychological growth as an actor over an extended, arduous period. So, “does the desire to win become greater or lesser as you age?” In response, Zhu Yilong admits that his desire to win has never diminished. When he was young, his desire to win manifested on the basketball court. He wanted to score goals and points; he wanted to be better than his opponents. When he graduated and started his acting career, he wanted to do everything to the best of his ability and win the director’s approval. However, his concept of winning changed gradually after he turned 30. Winning the approval of others was no longer his priority. He sought personal breakthroughs, explored different options, and tried interesting projects. Cloudy Mountain, Lighting up the Stars, Lost in the Stars, The Volunteers: The Battle of Life and Death, Only the River Flows, Land of Broken Hearts, Dongji Island… “I choose a different genre each time I make a film as I want to test my limits.” Each time a film wraps, Zhu Yilong moves on and departs for a further destination, just like the ripples of waves that hit the shore, edging one another ahead.

**THE END** Post-translation note: Love how he is challenging himself and the boundaries of his acting. His interviews always serve as timely reminders for myself too. Do not be afraid of making mistakes. Do not make winning the approval of others your priority. Be comfortable in your own skin. Happy Monday reading. If you'd like to re-translate this, please DM me for permission + credit. Please do not repost this article. Thanks and good night.