#DID NOT CRY DURING DEFIANCE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beomiracles · 3 months ago

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⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.”

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing.

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son.

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby.

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her.

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son.

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child.

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought.

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.”

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek.

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through.

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again.

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought.

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier?

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.”

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain.

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.”

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago.

Dinner was awkward even back then.

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once.

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down.

“She seems sweet.”

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house.

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..”

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house.

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far.

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death.

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering..

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?”

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.”

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–”

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.”

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek.

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?”

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere.

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does.

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.”

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands.

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom.

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs.

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now.

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost.

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy.

He didn’t deserve anything.

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home.

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day.

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful.

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine.

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night.

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?”

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile.

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son.

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted.

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown.

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it.

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control.

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed.

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud.

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own.

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for.

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt.

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?”

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips.

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?”

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt.

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible.

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead.

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room.

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers.

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days.

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice.

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long.

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.”

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries.

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake.

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you.

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that.

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse.

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door.

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep.

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here.

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable.

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside.

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation.

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind.

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same.

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case.

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.”

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.”

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue.

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..”

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..”

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud.

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat.

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly.

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..”

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you’ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it?

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek.

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold.

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.”

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway.

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?”

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle, some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word?

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape.

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time.

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to?

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful.

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it?

“I can help you.”

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops.

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too.

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill.

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket.

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely.

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. — “No? And why’s that?”

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.”

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu.

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours.

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel.

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly.

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones.

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well.

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin.

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place.

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe.

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back.

“Wait.”

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer.

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely.

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open.

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach.

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?”

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.”

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you.

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk.

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.”

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother.

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you.

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow.

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt.

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one.

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner.

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong.

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.”

Even more?

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top.

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you.

“Lie down.”

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you.

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch.

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.”

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it.

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair.

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression.

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself.

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan.

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing.

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss.

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it.

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off.

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back.

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face.

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?”

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.”

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more.

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night.

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to.

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by.

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness.

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect.

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private.

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him.

“Beomgyu?”

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling.

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..”

⸝⸝

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him.

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that.

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID.

“Dad.”

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement.

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.”

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown.

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go?

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did.

“You have your mom.”

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-”

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong.

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.”

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling.

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly.

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips.

“You have to let him go.”

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip.

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his.

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly.

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist.

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t?

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him.

“Now she’s gone too.”

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression.

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek.

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.”

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up.

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have.

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 4 months ago

Text

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

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saphirafoxgirlspost1 · 25 days ago

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(Open Rp) Nezha Reborn in "Lady Fox"

Long Ago After the Battles Against heavens and Journey to the west, Sun wukong and saphira are happily Together Once more after Sun wukong Woke her from her Deathly Sleep curse.. But when they comes out Nezha Challenge him for a battle..but During the battle, She Begged Nezha because She doesn't want to lose him again so nezha spared him but then the Dragon king of the eastern sea was Having none of it and Sent his Son Name "Ao Bing" to Kill sun wukong, but he was Killed by Nezha who is protecting Sun Wukong and Saphira By ripping Ao Bings spine out. Two Lovers Head out to Safety at Sakutopia but Sun wukong Knows That Saphira will be in grave Danger again and the Dragon king will put her a terrible curse again, So he told her that He must go and Fight to protect Her but Saphira begged him not to go and then He Said that he Promise to sent her gifts every day to let her know that He's alright. After he Left, Saphira was Devastated and heartbroken While the Dragon king Had Saw it and Made a Devious plan to keep Sun wukong and Saphira Separate By Making a Letter of Sun wukongs death and immortality been taken away.. Then one day, Saphira receive That letter and her heart is broken after she read that her beloved Monkey king was dead, She collapsed on the ground and crying Out of her broken heart but every day she receive gifts every day and she thought his ghost brought it.. As 30 years has passed in the celestial world and Saphira was Sent by her Father to the City called "Donghai" where She lives in Luxury and perform beautifully at the Palace of Happiness.. That night, when she sings She sees the strange person with a mask watching her out from the window. After the Performance, She was Invited to Meet with Au Guang the Dragon king of east sea, She founded it out that sun Wukong is alive.. Then That Morning, She meet with Au guang and his Son and she said,

Saphira: "You've got some nerve Invited me here after everything you put me Through, and I was Wondering. What brings me here to your Lovely Kingdom?"

Au Guang: "Ah Princess Saphira, I am aware of what I did to you and your Beloved one. So as For that Question, I have a Proposal for you to marry my son.. I was thinking that You've been Mourn your beloved Monkey King For too Long so I was thinking that It's time to be married someone else, Right Son?"

Ao Bing comes to her and looking at her up and down while Saphira made a disgust look and she said,

Saphira: "What Made you think that I will Marry Your Son After YOU sent him to kill my Love before His ass was Killed by Nezha?"

Au Guang: went stern, expression harden "My dear That was a Long time ago, Time has changed and all heh.. My dear Your Grief needs to let go I-"

Saphira began to cut off

Saphira: "Then Why did you Lie to me about Sun Wukongs death?!"

Au Gaung, Ao bing and His Minion froze as Saphira realized That Au Guang DID Lie to her about Sun wukongs Death and She knew it.

Saphira: "If Sun Wukong was dead as you Claim, then Why did I receive Gifts Every day For 30,000 years, 30 years in my Celestial realm! YOU KNEW HE'S ALIVE, WHERE IS HE!? Where's Sun wukong!?"

Saphira Shouted in Defiance..as She heard the Sound of Cane Slammed by Au Guang and She Froze, her breathing is Steady and then Au Guang Use the Enchanted red ribbon and Holds her down as she screams, Struggling to break free but then Au guang use his mechanical hand began to place saphira a Curse and he told her that This time Only he will be dead and No true loves kiss can break this time and he said that Saphira Will become a little White Fox by day and a beautiful Woman By Night..Then The black smoke went around her and Change her into a beautiful Little White Fox as His Minions laugh about it And before Au Guang Say anything, Saphira made a Hasty Escape and runs out of the Building as Au guang told his Boys to after that White Fox but Saphira was So swift as She runs to the Poverty Area where She sees alot of poor people and all, She felt heart broken and all they needed was water and all.. When she made it to the warehouse area, She accidentally Bumped into A young Motor Biker name "Li Yunxiang", in her eyes she saw Nezha in him But then one of His Buddies picked Her up by the scruff and said…

#Open Rp #Romance #Drama #nezha reborn #Monkey king #Sun wukong

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etheries1015 · 11 months ago

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Thinking about... (Minor chapter 7 spoilers, probably inaccurate tho, just warning you. I've made a point not to spoil...TOO much for myself.)

Defending Lilia. In front of the people who put him down, belittled him, and shunned him, making him believe he is completely incapable of receiving love. You knew some of this from being his lover for some time during your stay on Twisted Wonderland, but something about this dream twisted a sword into your heart and etched burning words of hatred into your heart. The second the senate began to speak Ill of your lover, despite his stance of taking it in with grace, you refused to allow them to spit such, for lackthore of better terms, bullshit.

So when Lilia could not cry, you did. You cried and screamed for it to stop, you couldn't take hearing such malice about the people you loved. You screamed at them for their incompetence, their closed-mindedness, their tyranny. Sebek, Silver and Grim grabbed your arm and tugged on it to urge you to stop. You fully expected Lilia to interrupt your angry screams of defiance, however he.... didn't, for some reason unknown to him.

"Lilia Vanrouge is the kindest, most down-to-earth and open-hearted person I have ever had the pleasure of falling in love with!" You yelled, "Who are you to decide who is worth something in this world? Who are you to decide the definition of right and wrong? To me, you're nothing but...but a bunch of... "

You spun a slue of... Wordy and inappropriate insults I dare not share out loud. It truly disgusted you. Lilia had the short of the stick for most of his life, orphaned and dejected as an incompetent bat fae, a worthless knight and general, and you knew just how far from the truth they were. By the end of your mental breakdown, you didn't wait for the responses of anyone around you. Turning around and rushing away in tears is all you could do...

You were looking forward to holding your significant other in your arms, and for this terrible nightmare to finally be over.

#twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #Twst #twst x reader #Lilia #Lilia x reader #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia vanrouge x reader #Twisted wonderland chapter 7 #twst chpt 7

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crybaby-bkg · 4 months ago

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cw: sex workers reader and toji, wrestling, he puts you in a headlock, ass slapping

as a sex worker under an agency, you sometimes get the opportunity to perform certain tropes that you wouldn't think too much about doing on your own. there have been quite a few that your manager has thrown your way; medical play, light BDSM scenes, and now, mixed wrestling. you've done your fair share of oiled up fighting with other women in your career, but you've never wrestled a man before.

its all staged, much like real wrestling except—except you're not too sure why or how you were paired up with infamous actor Toji Fushigurou. technically speaking, you two aren't anywhere near the same weight class, but you're not sure if technicalities even count for a job like this.

there are a few rules: no actual striking of each other, take the others underwear off during the fight, no biting. as the ref lists off all the other little things you two need to remember, you both take each other in. Toji is, for lack of better words, fucking huge. he's got at least six inches on you, packed with muscle and a nonchalant kind of finesse that makes you just the slightest bit nervous under his stare. he stands only in a tight pair of black boxer briefs, and you can make out the outline of his soft cock, despite the fact that it still rests low on his thigh.

he grins at you when he notices your ogling, winking once when you frown at him. he's been in the industry for so long, he's more than used to being objectified, but something about your little defiance that shines in your eyes makes him want to tear into you, piece by piece.

"Go!" the ref announces once she's finished listing her instructions. Toji doesn't immediately attack you, instead grins at you, hands on his waist as he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in your direction. with a, albeit weak, battle cry, do you lunge at him—

and quickly find yourself pinned. you don't know how he does it so quickly, maneuver you as if you only weighed a pound, but he does it. catches you in his arms and swings you around until your back meets the floor with a grunt, the wind suddenly knocked out of you. he's gentle though, where he pins you with his knees on either side of you.

"At least try to put up a fight," he teases you, pulling at the straps of your bikini. but you fight him off as much as you can, grunting and cursing at him, taking this entirely too seriously for what will ultimately end with you being fucked into oblivion by the man. doesn't mean you have to go out without a fight, though.

although, your fight doesn't mean much to Toji. by the third and final round, you're fully naked and he's still got his underwear on. your ass is slapped raw by how many times his too big hands have groped you, nipples pinched to sensitivity. you're not surprised when the ref announces your lost, tells Toji to claim his prize.

and he does just that. pins you on the floor, finally releasing the thickness of his cock. he's cocky the entire time, teasing, with how he pins you on your stomach, holding you in a headlock as he fucks his cock too deep inside of you to put up much of a fight anymore.

"Did you even try?" he asks, breathy, a smirk plastered on his face as he looms over your shoulder. "Or did you want to end up like this? With my dick in your stomach? The fight worked you up that much, huh?"

he taps your clit with too thick, mean fingers with his other hand, tightening his bicep around your throat when you try to get smart with him. he knows its all bark and no bite, if judging by the way your cunt sucks him in is anything to go by. you can only gurgle out a curse to him, eyes rolling back in your head when his wicked laugh only pushes you over the edge to climax.

(after the scene ends, he kisses your temples and squeezes your waist, telling you that you guys should do more scenes together. you only stick out your tongue at him, promising to get stronger so you can take him down next time. he laughs at you, more than happy to entertain your thoughts that will, truthfully, never come true.)

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#toji treats! 🍬#I thought about this the other day and got so h word about it #tmi but I used to primarily get off on wrestling videos for so long lmfao #going back to my roots 👍🏼#also this is one of like seven things I wrote today which I am Proud of #will post the others through the course of the week!!#maybe. I get excited about everything and wanna post it all at once LOL

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whumpril · 2 years ago

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Whumpril 2023 approaches!

Rules:

Anyone can participate.

Any media form is allowed (art, fic, gifs, music, whatever).

You can participate however much or as little as you want, no pressure to complete every single day.

You can post your work anywhere on the internet, Tumblr, Ao3, etc.

Tag potential triggers and NSFW accordingly.

If you want to be counted as an official participant and have the chance to be featured on the blog, post your content during the month of April. You can still use the prompt list after April ends.

I can’t guarantee that every single work will be featured but I’ll try to reblog as many as I can.

To increase your chances of being featured here, tag your post with the event name and the prompt of the day that you used (For example: #whumpril2023, #whumprilday1, #red alert)

You can also @ the blog, @whumpril.

Full write-up of the prompts can be found under the cut!

Whumpril 2023 Prompts:

1. Red Alert | Distress Call | Panic Attack

2. Stress | Insomnia | “Get some rest.”

3. Rope Burns | Knife to Throat | “Hold still.”

4. Ache | Massage | Needle

5. Defiance | Dragged | Stifled Scream

6. Salve | Painkillers | Bad Coping Mechanisms

7. Numbness | Unsteady | “You look pale.”

8. Nausea | Comfort Food | Dehydration

9. Pinned Down | Bruises | “Who did this to you?”

10. Shiver | Breathless | “I’m scared.”

11. Nightmares | Bedside Vigil | “I’m right here.”

12. Friendly Fire | Toxic | “Get away from me!”

13. Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”

14. False Smile | Holding Back Tears | “I said I’m fine.”

15. Isolation | Flinching | “Do you trust me?”

16. Guilt | Shock | “I’m so sorry.”

17. Cry For Help | Self-Treatment | “I can’t do this.”

18. Abandoned | Escape Attempt | “Take me instead!”

19. Choking | Muffled Sobs | “I’m worried about you.”

20. Disoriented | Sensory Deprivation | “Where am I?”

21. Scars | Fracture | “It’s just a scratch.”

22. Sponge Bath | Infection | “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

23. Smoke | Bloodstains | Sharing Clothes

24. Secrets | Under Duress | “What have you done?”

25. Heart Racing | On the Run | “We’re being watched.”

26. Explosion | Short on Time | “I won’t leave you!”

27. Forced To Kneel | Grabbed by Collar | Stepped On

28. Bedridden | Semiconscious | Light Sensitivity

29. Surrender | Punishment | “Final warning.”

30. Holding Hands | Human Shield | “Don’t let go.”

Alternative Prompts:

If there’s a prompt above you don’t feel inspired or comfortable doing, you can switch it out with one of these alternatives!

1. Ice Pack

2. Ransom

3. Gaslighting

4. On the Edge

4. Waiting Room

5. Un/Forgiveness

6. Food Poisoning

7. Heat Exhaustion

8. Forced To Crawl

9. Mandatory Leave

10. Search and Rescue

11. “Don’t push me away.”

12. Words That Can’t Be Taken Back

13. “Let me know if you need anything.”

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whump #whump event #whump community #rules #writing prompts

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fellthemarvelous · 7 months ago

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Without hope, we have nothing.

(Spoilers and speculation included a bit further down)

This is actually a post about the Bad Batch and not Star Wars Rebels, but this bit is important so...

Try not to cry when you remember that Tech is the one who taught Hera Syndulla how to mask her ship's signature, a move that made her a massive threat to the Empire and a move that she often used to her advantage. She was such a threat to the Empire that they wanted to capture her alive so they could make an example of her for her years of defiance.

And then also try not to cry when you remember that when Hera was taken prisoner by the Empire, Kanan Jarrus sacrificed his life to free her and save the future of the Rebellion. Try not to cry when you think about the fact that Kanan Jarrus aka Caleb Dume was the Jedi padawan the Bad Batch protected (except for Crosshair) from the Empire during Order 66 by claiming Hunter killed him.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Echo lied to the Empire to protect a Jedi.

And Tech taught Hera how to evade the Empire when the Bad Batch helped her family (Chopper included) escape Ryloth after being accused of treason.

Clone Force 99's actions had a direct outcome on the success of the Rebellion. They refused to commit treason against the Republic and all they did was commit treason against the Empire. They were strong enough to resist the effects of the inhibitor chip (Crosshair and Wrecker for awhile), outright ignored Order 66 (Hunter and Tech), or were tortured and turned partially into a machine against his will by the Techno Union and used as a weapon against the Republic who, upon rescue, immediately jumped back into Separatist territory and fucked their asses up (Echo). Luckily, with the help of Rex, they got their chips removed after Wrecker tried to kill all of them.

Everything under the cut is pure speculation. I'm having a galaxy brain moment, I just have no idea if it's pointing me in the right direction or not lol.

If you disagree with me, I don't need you to rudely tell me why.

After his time on Tantiss, Crosshair can now identify with Echo more than anyone else in the Bad Batch (and Tech if CX-2 is Tech).

When they went to rescue Echo, Crosshair is the one who snidely told Captain Rex that he would have left Echo behind too.

Which is exactly what happened to Crosshair when the Empire turned him into a weapon against his own brothers. He had no choice because the Empire attached him to a machine and amped up the effect of his inhibitor chip so he could not disobey orders.

Rex told Cody "I think Echo is still alive" and Cody told him that was impossible. Anakin accompanied him on this rescue mission with The Bad Batch (we know Cody would have too if he hadn't been injured).

I think that if Tech is CX-2, Crosshair already knows or highly suspects it. He's terrified of Tantiss. I think we're going to have a parallel moment of Crosshair possibly saying the same thing, knowing that he could never leave a brother behind again after what he went through, especially if CX-2 is Tech. (I also wouldn't be surprised if Omega suspected something after her trip back to Tantiss with CX-2.)

We never saw Echo's body after the explosion. Instead we got this image. An empty helmet and a droid arm.

Crosshair defected from the Empire when he witnessed the Empire tell him that Mayday was only a clone and not worth giving medical attention to. Those actions resulted in the death of Mayday and that's when Crosshair chose to shoot an Imperial officer between the eyes (similar to Dogma's execution of General Krell in many ways).

If Tech is CX-2, that is the second Bad Batcher the Empire has turned into an enemy against his brothers.

This is the last we saw of Tech.

Hemlock was fucking lying when he said that Tech's glasses were all they recovered. Why the hell would he have found Tech's glasses and not Tech? All we see below him are clouds. And this is the last bit of Tech we see. That gun is in the shot with his glasses for a reason.

I feel like this is going to parallel Echo's rescue from Skako Minor. Tech and Echo are both highly intelligent huge ass nerds (remember that the battle plans being used against the Republic were written by both Rex and Echo, and Cody acknowledged that Rex was one of their best strategists in the GAR) who always ended up working best together.

Part of me wonders if we are heading into a show centered on the clone troopers in a post Order 66 world going up against the Empire as they try to rescue more of their brothers. Enough to become a problem for the Empire.

Part of me also wonders if the inclusion of Force sensitive children in the Bad Batch means Rex will need to call Ahsoka into the fray. Wolffe has only appeared once so he hasn't even switched sides, let alone even started blocking Ahsoka's messages to Rex yet. During the Clone Wars she had to save Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. During the Rebellion, the saved more Force sensitive children from Darth Sidious. It makes me wonder if she is also going to save Force sensitive children from this too? I might be reaching a bit too much here, but it could be a possibility! She seems to always show up when Force sensitive children need to be rescued from Darth Sidious.

No matter what ending we get for the Bad Batch, I know it's going to leave us with hope for the future because the message in Star Wars has always shown us that hope will always be stronger than fear.

A simple act of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.

Without hope, we have nothing.

These episodes are all relevant to Echo's journey. The Domino Squad was referred to as a bad batch and Echo was the one who seemed to struggle the most with orders that conflicted with doing what needed to be done. He is the one who memorized the regulations manual after all. And now the Bad Batch are on a similar journey because they have never trusted regs before, but now it seems they might have to trust the regs to come to help them the way they helped Rex and Echo before the war ended. The way they helped Gregor after the war ended.

If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but that's a fanfic I can always write!! I don't want to get into who I think is going to die or survive, but I have my suspicions there too and I'm already in too much pain to keep going.

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sanakimohara · 11 months ago

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“Pretty When You Cry” B.C.

“Although she is alone…she knows the truth.” + “If you think I’m pretty lay your hands on me…”

Summary: Chan as a yandere. Borderline stalking type of yandere to be exact.

WARNING: MDNI, cursing, smut obviously, mentions of kidnapping, and cnc…among other things.

A/N: this was a request and it caught my interest so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did while thinking/writing about it.

—————————————————————

A knife could slice right through the thick tension between you and Chan right now.

Not because his eyes were glaring daggers straight into your Bambi like stare or that you were purposely keeping your distance from him by sticking close to the nearest exit. No, the reason was much more complicated.

You. More specifically, you assuming Chan wouldn’t be jealous or possessive of you.

Now, he had you all alone to ‘talk’ but you knew that just meant your night was about to riddled with consequences from him. So, planted yourself near the door -a useless precaution you took to feel safer.

Little did you know, he’d locked it the moment you wandered into his room. You came to him under the impression he just wanted to show you something he’d been working on and was only slightly aware of his true intentions.

Now, you wished more than ever that you’d paid more attention to your small suspicions, but it was too late for you to leave without having to go through him. Chan made sure of that by pocketing his hotel room key card.

“Chan, please..” you started to reason with him, voice trembling slightly as you spoke, and your body involuntarily pressing against the locked door as he stood up abruptly. His face was unnervingly expressionless but his eyes were piercing, swirling with all the intensity of emotions you’d become familiar with.

Jealousy, lust, and possessiveness. Anger was present too -steadily growing the longer he replayed the image of you flirting with some random staff member during their concert.

“Let me ask you something,” Chan was now inches from you, his entire body dwarfing yours in comparison, and his voice shallow with simmering rage. He really was terrifying when upset and with envy added into the mix he was downright evil sometimes.

Shamefully, it turned you on more than anything else. Being afraid of him, what he might do you, and how he’d take his anger out on you. It was so wrong for you to be wet already, merely in Chan’s presence, and forced to stay there until he decided to let you go.

Which was never, in his opinion.

“Do you like pissing me off?,” he nearly growls the question and your tummy does several slips hearing the rasp carry through to his accent. “N-no, I don’t Chan-“ you answer him carefully, face heating up as your fear amps up to new heights when he grabs your jaw with one hand and places the other above your head to lean forward on. “Yes, you fucking do. Why else would you go around whoring yourself out to other men then?” Chan taunts you with a faux smile, raising his brows slightly to add to his condescending tone, and you huff softly in return.

“Channie, I promise we were just-“ you’re cut off again as his hand on your face falls to your throat, gripping it tight until you have to hiss in a breath, and cling to his wrist with both of your small hands. Chan holds you there, counting the seconds until he sees tears prick your lidded eyes, and only then does he loosen his hold on you.

“I don’t care what you were doing, little one. This is the last time you’ll ever try me, understood?” You could barely hear him over your heart drumming your ears from being choked so ruthlessly seconds ago, and when you don’t answer him immediately Chan takes that as a sign of defiance on your end.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, dark eyes filling with a new emotion as he watched you struggle to breathe with his hand still putting pressure on your throat. You already looked so broken in for him, probably bound to drop to your knees if he let you go, and your pathetic attempts to wriggle out of his grasp never failed to amuse him.

Chan would never let you go, you knew that, but still tried with all your might to fight him off -even if you’d been craving his affection the whole time.

It was part of your dynamic. Chan could drag you through hell and back, you’d insist on running away, but ultimately fail and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to,” Chan hums lowly, passing his thumb over the fullness of your bottom lip before slowly pushing it into your warm mouth. “Suck,” he commands, pressing down on your tongue slightly as you start to do exactly that. Quiet whimpers vibrate through your throat as you lick and suck on his thumb, doe eyes sparkling with need as he watched you obey his every word.

You could feel his hardened cock through his jeans, the length of it pressed right against your pelvis and lower stomach, and you were tempted to reach down and palm him just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, he’d quickly pull your hand away, reminding you that “you’re not allowed to touch daddy until I say you can…”

You hated that rule but knew the consequences for breaking it would only leave you edged to the brink of delirium and his cum plowed deep into your sore womb.

Chan was certainly not the man to tease -unless you were prepared to endure the corresponding punishment.

So, you took pleasure in sucking on his fingers, imagining it was cock instead, and continuously drooling on his digits until he removed them. You coughed softly as he did, chest heaving, and eyes still watering as they refocused on his face.

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at your disoriented expression, always so neat and sweet in public, but behind closed doors and in his view you just looked like a love sick pup waiting to be used.

You half expected him to push you down to your knees, already accepting your fate of him using your throat as his personal cock sleeve, but Chan had other ideas.

He closed the distance between you two, ducking his head to capture your spit slick lips with his plump ones. You moaned as he pushed his tongue past yours, taking his time to explore your mouth, and swallowing the short and desperate noises you let out in between each kiss.

Your hold on his veiny wrist and arm traced up to his neck, gently massaging the muscle there before your fingers tangled through the hair at the back of his head. Chan grunted into your mouth when lightly pulled on his dark hair, “I should’ve fucked you in front of him,” he mumbles harshly against your lips, hands gripping your hips to turn you around in one quick motion.

A small yelp flies from your chest as your frontside meets the cold surface, Chan’s body weighing down on yours as his hands slid from your waist to the closure of your black high waisted shorts. He started to undo the tedious buttons and zipper while tracing his lips down the right side your neck. You whined as he littered mark after mark on your unblemished skin, his hands now hooked on the sides of your shorts to pull them off, and his heavy breaths causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You would’ve liked that, yeah? Daddy fucking you in front of everyone so they’ll never forget who you belong to?” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, tone bordering on desperation as you whined and reached a hand up to caress one side of his face. “Yes,” you moan loudly, finally shedding your usual timid nature to fully enjoy the moment, and Chan smirked against skin hearing your delicate voice reach a new octave.

“You’re such a slut, and you’re all mine too,” he muses, slipping one hand right between your shaking thighs, and delving past the fabric of your underwear to cup your mound. “Ahm…stop! No..!” You half moan and half whimper as he takes in the soaking expanse of your cunt.

It was embarrassing. You were definitely more than eager to have him touch you and now he knew it.

Chan laughed dryly at your pathetic attempt to refuse him, fingers sliding up and down your folds to collect as much of your cum as possible before swirling those same fingers around your clit. “You want me to stop? That’s not what your body wants, now is it, baby?” He didn’t need you to answer, your broken cries were enough for him, and the dazed look in your eyes only intensified as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“…s-stop p-please….ill be good…just-just let me go…” you try again to win your freedom, voice cracking as a few tears began to trickle down your flushed cheeks. His attention to your clit had migrated to your entrance, prodding it open with two thick fingers before he shoved them into you as deep as possible. “Fuck ..,” Chan inhaled sharply from how tight your cunt was, already clenching around his fingers like you’d break if he put anymore in.

He might’ve came right then and there if he hadn’t already built his stamina up but his cock still twitched just from the constant pulsing of your wet core.

“Daddy, s’ too much....” you weakly called for his attention, panting as he curled, pumped, and twirled his fingers inside you. He reached every spot that made you see stars and even had you circling your hips to the pace of his hand. “I don’t care,” Chan responded gruffly, back to marking your neck and shoulder as he sped the pace of his fingers up.

You choked on a string of moans, face contrasting into a mindless picture of pleasure as he abused your cunt. “Nooo.. ah!” You tried your best to keep protesting, yet he only added to your torture by slowly circling his thumb on your clit . Now, you were at a loss for words, head emptying of any thoughts besides cumming on his hand.

You were incredibly close to the edge and Chan noticed from just one look at your beautifully lost and delirious stare. Your head lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes rolling slightly as he brought you to your climax with precise pumps into your dripping cunt. “Cumming…” you whimper into the crook of his neck, letting the smell of his cologne fill your head as the knot in your tummy snapped. He groaned as you gushed on his hand, making a mess in your lacey underwear as well, and watched you rock your hips to ride your high out.

Chan smiled at the sight, in love with how messy and careless you could be when he touched you. “You’re gonna cum like this on my cock next, princess…” he announced it like a command and all you could muster was a shaky exhale followed with a lazy smile as you felt him drag his fingers out of your sticky entrance.

“You’ll never forget what it means to be owned by me again, baby girl..”

—————————————————————

Should I make a PT2? I kind of already did hehehe….we will see how PT1 goes first, yeah? 🖤

BONUS CONTENT +

(Sorry not sorry for this…🖤)

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #bang chan #bang chris #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #chan skz #christopher bang #chan x reader #chan x you #chan x y/n #chan x female reader #SoundCloud #Spotify

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taking-a-cupcake · 8 months ago

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Albedo x gn!reader smut

warnings: enemies or rivals, hate sex, unrequited feelings??? mb, rough & soft sex, degrading yet praise idk, lmk if i misses anything

You hated Albedo, you really did. The cheeky smile of his. His smirk. The art he creates. The alchemy he’s skilled in. Every encounter between the two of you always ended with hostility or annoyance. Your dislike for each other was evident to everyone around you.  Although, you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him. Your mind would often wander to thoughts of him, imagining what it would be like to have his hands all over your body, to feel his lips on your skin. But you knew it could never happen, not with the way he treated you.  Albedo, on the other hand, seemed to have no interest in you. He saw you as nothing more than a nuisance. Your existence seemed to infuriate him, and though he seemed like a kind person, he took every opportunity to degrade and humiliate you. And yet, there was a small part of you that couldn't help but crave his attention, even if it came in the form of insults and condescending remarks.  It was during one of your heated arguments that things finally escalated. The tension between the two of you was thick in the air as Albedo grabbed you roughly by the arms, pinning you against the wall.  'You're nothing but a pathetic excuse for an artist,' he sneered, his words dripping with venom. (LMAOO)  But instead of feeling intimidated, you couldn't help but feel a thread of slick run down your thigh. You looked up at him with a mix of defiance and desire, and in that moment, he seemed to sense your true intentions.  A wicked grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. 'Oh, would you look at that’  Before you could even respond, his lips crashed down on yours in a fierce kiss, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing. Albedo soon pulled away with a smirk.  'Be careful what you wish for,' he warned, his hands roaming over your body, his fingers tracing over your curves.  You moaned as his touch sent shivers down your spine, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for support. He continued to kiss and nip at your neck, leaving a trail of marks that would surely last for days.  'Look at you, so desperate for my touch,' he taunted, his voice filled with amusement. 'And all this time, you've been pretending to hate me.'  You could only whimper and roll your eyes (in annoyance) in response as he pushed you down onto a nearby desk, his lips moving lower and lower. He tore off your clothes, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze.  He took his time exploring every inch of your body, leaving no spot untouched. And just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he reached between your legs, his fingers teasing you.  You couldn't hold back your moans as he brought you to the brink of pleasure, only to stop just before you could reach your release. This continued for what felt like hours, his touch driving you to the brink of insanity.  But just as you were about to beg for him to give you what you so desperately craved, he abruptly pulled away. You whimpered in protest, but before you could even say anything, he pushed himself inside you in one swift motion.  You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he moved inside you, the rough and aggressive thrusts only intensifying your pleasure.

 As his pace quickens, your nails dig into his back, he continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. Tears start to stream down your face as you cry out, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure and the intensity of your emotions.  Albedo's lips find yours, his tongue dancing with yours as he devours your mouth. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls away, denying you your release. Your body writhes beneath him, begging for release, but he denies you once again.  But then, he starts to move again. This time, faster and harder. Your pleasure builds, but you know that he won't allow you to reach your peak just yet. You try to hold back your cries of frustration, but they still escape your lips, only fueling Albedo's desire.  He begins to play with you, teasing and edging you closer to the brink before pulling back once again. The pleasure and frustration become almost unbearable. Finally, after denying you twice, Albedo gives you what you've been waiting for – your release. The waves of pleasure crash over you, and you cry out his name as your body convulses beneath him.  But just when you think it's over, Albedo's hands are back on your body, touching and teasing you in all the right places. Your body is hypersensitive from the denial, making every touch and sensation feel even more intense. And before you know it, you're once again on the edge of orgasm.  Albedo's thrusts become erratic, and you can tell he's close to his own release. With one final thrust, he lets out a loud groan, his body shuddering and trembling with pleasure. And as you both ride out your orgasms together, you can't help but feel grateful for this.  As you both lay there, sweaty and spent, Albedo pulls you close to him, cuddling you.  But it was short-lived as Albedo pulled out and left the room without a single word, leaving you feeling useless. You wanted to hate him for how he treated you, but the truth was, deep down, you knew you would always crave more of him.  As you lay there, basking in the afterglow and the slight throbbing sensation between your legs, you couldn't help but admit the truth to yourself. You were hopelessly in love with someone you ‘hated, and he would never return your feelings.

—————————

(guys he actually came back after and did a full treatment and made a bath, trust😅😅)

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #albedo smut #albedo x reader smut #hoyoverse smut #mihoyo smut #albedo kreideprinz smut

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manicrouge · 3 months ago

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(DESERTION) || CHAPTER ONE: DROWSINESS

[SIMON RILEY X F!READER] || MASTERLIST || (DESERTION) MASTERLIST || PLAYLIST

'Even a man as brooding as he can be just as mellow as dawn.'

cw: brief religious discussion (hints of religious trauma), allusion to abuse.

[Word Count]: 3.5k

In the wilderness you find peace.

Granted, right now you can’t really see anything; the sun had disappeared a few hours ago and you were left in the darkness. Despite the grimness of the night, you find your eyes making out the trees surrounding the pair of you. Raising from out of the ground like hands, the branches being but crooked fingers.

While the wilderness brings you peace, you find yourself restless at the appearance of the moon, your head throbbing at the thought of the trees. The thought of such was one that your father graciously put in your head during your youth, a foolish thought at that as now, every time you step into a wooded area, you find you can’t escape the humanness of nature and her ways. Nature and her ways, sometimes, makes your skin crawl.

The memory of your father and his words always entails another one – specifically a distant one of the night you had been lying in bed with Simon. You never dreamt of something having such an impact on you, and yet, it was oddly significant as it was your first confession to him.

Not one of love, not one of lust, rather, one of childish terror.

‘You always seem on edge whenever we’re in the woods,’ he remarked, looking down at you as you laid your head on his chest, the scent of tobacco filling your senses as the cigarette in his hand steadily burned. ‘What’s that about?’

Your hands grazed his chest as you busy yourself with pulling at his hair, your mouth filling with air as you glanced upwards at him. You move your leg further across his as you exhale. ‘Promise me you won’t laugh?’

‘Depends on what you’re gonna tell me, sweetheart.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘Prick.’

‘Tell me,’ he huffed, squeezing your waist while bringing the ciggy back to his mouth. You stayed silent, such defiance earning a scoff from him. ‘Okay,’ he relented, ‘I won’t laugh. I promise you my lips are sealed. Tell me.’

You took a deep breath, glancing at him before beginning. ‘When I was little, I went camping with my dad,’ you said, ‘we were sitting outside at night and he told me that trees were actually the hands of all the people who went missing in the woods stickin’ up out of the ground trying to get the attention of people after their bodies became worm food.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eight.’

‘He said that to an eight year old?’ Simon asked.

‘Yup,’ you laughed dryly, ‘I know it’s bullshit, but I can’t get the image out of my head.’

‘You’ve seen plenty of dead people by now,’ he said, exhaling a mouthful of grey smoke, ‘it should be somethin’ you’re used to.’

‘Doesn’t mean a thing,’ you confessed, ‘there’s just something about it that gives me the chills. Dyin’ somewhere like that, stuck bein’ a fucking tree for the rest of eternity.’

‘You rather die in a care home?’

‘Anywhere,’ you said simply, ‘just not somewhere like that.’

He was silent after that.

Pressing your hand against his chest, you pushed yourself up in order to get a proper look of his face. ‘You think it’s stupid.’

He took another drag from his cigarette.

‘You’re dying to laugh.’

‘It’s cute,’ he said, a small smile beckoning his mouth as he looked at you, squeezing your side. ‘Out of all the thing you could be scared of, that’s the fuckin’ thing that has you pissing yourself.’

You scoffed at his conclusion and settled back on his chest. ‘You still think it’s funny.’

‘Of course I do, sweetheart,’ he confessed, ‘if it makes you feel any better, when I was a kid, I used to be fuckin’ terrified of the rain.’

‘The rain?’

‘Tommy told me that it was a sign that I did somethin’ to make the big man in the sky mad at me. I used to cry an’ cry until it stopped raining. Of course, I realised it was a load of shit after a couple months.’

You didn’t laugh at his honesty, instead, you frowned.

‘What made you so scared?’

‘My dad was a strict Catholic,’ he said, ‘drilled it into us at a young age – thought he himself was God on Earth,’ he scoffed, taking another drag from his cigarette, ‘he was just a narcissist with nothin’ else in his life. He left and my fear of rain left with him… started to enjoy it actually.’

That thought lives in your head, and it’s a difficult thought to shake. So much of yourself was in that sentiment because, before that, you never really did speak much about your childhood. There was the occasional comment here and there, but they all just came off as ideas, nothing ever seeming to be concrete. You couldn’t have held the shattered piece in your hands, so you settled for grinding them in between your teeth and spitting out the remnants during conversations with your Task Force.

The ground you’ve been treading has your bones aching – you feel as though you’ve been through hell and back and you can’t quite seem to find any form of escape. Your shoulders are burning, ears ringing as you look at the back of the man marching in front of you.

Ironically, you feel as though you’re carrying the brunt of the labour when, in reality, he snatched your backpack off of you a few miles south and you’ve been walking like a stroppy child with your hands pressed against your side, following after him. You know both of you are exhausted; you see such in his eyes whenever you get the chance to look at his face.

‘Simon,’ you call, your voice raspy and your tongue heavy in your mouth. ‘I can carry my own bag, it’s fine. Give it back to me.’

‘No,’ he plainly answers, seeming to pick up his pace. ‘I know your shoulders are hurtin’, makes no difference to me. Had to carry heavier things than this for longer.’

‘Like what?’

‘Your bag on date night.’

You laugh, nearly tripping over your feet. ‘What happened to the discipline you used to show me in the old days, ay?’ He stops in his tracks and you hit his back with a huff. ‘Prick.’

‘The difference is you’re not just an annoying rookie to me anymore,’ he says, turning to face you, ‘so, if your bags hurtin’ you, I’ll carry it.’

‘If Price saw you doin’ this, he’d fume.’

Despite the darkness, you catch him rolling his eyes. ‘Well, Price isn’t here, is he, sweetheart?’ he asks, leaning down in front of you, his gloved hand raising to hold your face, ‘I’m sure he’d have my head for a lot of things, but what he can’t see won’t hurt him.’

‘What he might hear could, though.’

‘Won’t be hearin’ nothin’ from us,’ he says, letting go of your face with a sigh. ‘Not anytime soon, at least.’

‘That’s all you’ve been sayin’ since we lost signal,’ you say, furrowing your brow. Whilst he’s typically a pessimist, his persistence concerning the matter is beginning to cause your stomach to churn. So, whilst he bears the burden of your bag, you bear the burden of his baggage. ‘We’ll find somewhere with signal soon. This isn’t gonna be like the last time this happened.’

The moonlight sits well in his eyes. ‘Doubt it,’ he says, looking around, ‘they can’t reach us where we are.’

You stare, holding your breath. ‘How? We’ve been walking for hours.’

‘Still too far out,’ he says, holding his hand out to you. ‘C’mon, he’s not ere, is he? He’s not gonna care. No one is.’

You place your hand in his, taking the position of walking beside him as the pair of you continue on your venture. Really, the feeling of his gloved hand in your own is a peculiar comfort, although you’ve known that his touch can solve any wrong for quite a while by now.

With his hand in yours you find that the ‘hands’ of the undead poking through the ground don’t seem all that terrifying. He squeezes your hand as you walk, an occasional rhythm sinking into your palm as you keep your eyes trained on the trees in front of you.

‘Do you think we’re ever gonna catch Cain?’

His name tastes terrible in your mouth. And what a truly despicable man he is. You've met many criminals in your time on the job, tyrants, wannabe dictators, and somehow, this man is the one who leaves you the most uneasy.

There's nothing explicitly off about him and, had he maintained his business orientated persona, you're more than convinced that the CIA wouldn't have pieced together his part in a deal. It was a blip – a mistake that had brought him to the attention of Kate and the Task Force. Confidence typically brings sloppiness: unfortunate for him, yet fortunate for you and the rest of your team.

‘Only a matter of time,’ Simon says, ‘only so much of this area you can tread before coming to the edge of a cliff or lake. He’s got no one to help him as far as we know,’ he continues, ‘and with Johnny and Gaz coverin’ ground, he isn’t gonna get far.’

You nod your head as he speaks, although, there’s something aching the forefront of your head, pushing its hands up against your skull as you continue to walk with him. Your legs are burning, your eyes are stinging: everything hurts.

It’s unlike any pain you’ve ever known, the worst you have ever known, and you can’t help but question why exactly you’re here, doing all this when the pair of you could have been home, in your bed. Still, the discipline that has been woven into your DNA pulls your sluggish posture up and forces you to press onwards, in spite of your doubts. But even that is escaping you it seems.

‘Okay,’ you say dully.

A stick snaps beneath your foot, you feel it bend. Still, tense, squeezing his hand. You hear a small chuckle escape from his mouth, slightly masked by the balaclava covering his face. Neither of you speak, however, opting to remain silent. It’s better this way because sound only really covers up the sounds of enemies, and whilst you’re sure Cain is far from the sort to be able to do any real damage, you’re more than sure that, if he does have a weapon, you’ll surely be dead: all because of your conversation.

Yet, something compels you to keep talking. You feel as though, if you stop, you’ll never speak to him ever again. It’s irresponsible at best, foolish at worst.

‘I miss home,’ you say to him, feeling the back of your throat burning. ‘Especially the café at the bottom of our street.’

‘Bunny Brews?’ he answers. The name of the café leaving his mouth sounds strange.

‘They make the best pastries ever. I’d do anything for one of their pastries cause if I have to eat one more MRE, I’m going to lose it.’

‘I miss the brews,’ he says, ‘I’d do anything for one of those.’

There’s a sound of sadness in his voice as he speaks. Anyone else would miss it because you know you have a tendency to find the details in the oddest of things, him being one of them. Only, with such a soul with yours, you can’t help but notice every little thing about him.

The way in which he walks changes when he’s in the house, but in your home. Anywhere else, his fists are clenched and you’ve noted how his eyes are forever programmed to survey the area as though threat is imminent.

His professionalism is in his blood, if not him as a whole – and you would believe that fact if you hadn’t seen how he is at home. He’s forever destined to be associated with the night in your mind: dark, unknown, leaving you forever anticipating what his next move is. And yet, despite the fact that you’re confident he’s nature's nighttime creation, his anticipation trails onwards, not ending when the moon disappears, instead, being replaced by the sun as morning rolls around.

Even a man as brooding as he can be just as mellow as dawn.

Quiet, washed out, all the while being something you admire from afar. At home, he’s another person, and you were convinced of that for a while until eventually the dawn seeped into his complexion and his professionalism began to waver all for the sake of holding you close to him, or cracking the occasional joke.

‘Two goldfish are in a tank.’

‘You’ve already told me that one, Si.’

He was silent for a moment.

‘Three goldfish are in a tank.’

Granted, you know comedy isn’t exactly his forté. Although his emphasis could not have been considered anything other than a joke within itself – a mixture of his nighttime mentality and his dawn persona.

You’re retrieved from your train of thought when you tread something a lot softer than the stick. It nearly melts beneath your boot and you stop in your tracks, your hand slipping out of Simon’s as you crouch down, taking a stuffed Grizzly bear into your hands.

‘Has he got a name?’ your mother asked over dinner.

He sat beside you, his front paws doing little to assist in his balance. ‘Bearie,’ you announced before taking another bite out of your pizza.

Bearie.

Immediately, your brows furrow as you take the plushie in both hands, holding it out in front of you in an attempt to observe it. The shape of the toy is the only thing prominent to you and it sits in your hand, appearing as an ink mass.

Grabbing your flashlight from your belt, you turn it on and point it down at the toy. Everything, from the shape, from the firmness of his stuffing, all the way down to the missing eye – it’s him. You turn to Simon who was a few steps away from you, holding the bear up for him to see. Your childhood is staring you in the eyes.

Suddenly, the trees are back to being the waving hands of the dead.

‘This looks exactly like Bearie,’ you say, ‘it’s even missing the same eyes as he is.’

And how peculiar it is to see the one thing that has followed you throughout the course of the entirety of your life on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There's a sickness in the back of your throat, pondering where exactly this thing has come from – is it a replica or is it him? You don’t have the answer for that question and, really, you don’t want to know the truth behind it. You swallow hard, looking at Simon, your eyes stinging. You feel the urge to cry as you look at him. Your grasp on the bear only grows tighter on him as your face grows warm in spite of the autumn breeze.

There’s this look in Simon’s eyes as you look over at him. The same sort of look he offers you whenever he’s bought you something from the shop, yet tells you that there is nothing other than the necessities.

‘How does he know about this? I- It can’t be a coincidence.’

Holding the bear out to him, you feel the urge to drop it to the ground, to forget about its existence entirely. However, it’s too late, you know it is. No amount of distraction in the distant future could keep you from the feeling of the goosebumps on your skin at this very moment. You raise your hand to your forehead, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself; the way you’re acting is not the way of a soldier, rather one of a coward. You’ve seen a lot – too much, really, and yet, you’re rendered speechless by the sight of a stuffed bear.

Your bear, but still a toy nonetheless.

Of course, it was a common design; you remember how plentiful the stock of them was when you went to the Build-A-Bear shop as a child, and still to this day they exist. You only know that because Simon offered to get you a replacement because Bearie has been looking a little worse for wear these days.

‘He’s a tatty thing now, you should get a new one – I’ll get you him as a little present.’

You held the bear in your arms as though he was your infant son, acting as though Simon (the father) was proposing you give him up for adoption. ‘Don’t look so upset. Am tryin’ to be nice,’ he said with a grin.

You sighed and settled beside him, resting your head against his shoulder as you held him out to look at him. Yes, he was right. His left eye was gone all because of your childhood dog, his fur was nowhere near as glossy and soft as it had been at one, rather a clump of mats. Not to mention his battle scars he received from a jealous squad mate back in your old dorms before you were moved to Task Force 141. However, any other version of him seemed to weather in comparison to the one who looked the worse.

‘I don’t want a new one,’ you said, placing the teddy bear down onto your lap, ‘when a human’s a little worse for wear, you don’t replace them, do you?’ you asked, ‘you nurse em back to health – appreciate their scars cause it’s what makes them unique.’

He chuckled. ‘You trying to hint at something here?’

‘I had a scar on my stomach an’ you don’t wanna throw me away,’ you said simply, ‘and he has a scar on his arm because of fuckin’ Chevvy.’

‘I could’ve beat him black an’ blue.’

‘I did it for you,’ you answered with a grin, picking Bearie back up. ‘He’s lived a life himself, in his own little way. He can’t talk for himself, but his marks do all the talking,’ you said, ‘and if someone doesn’t know what happened, I like to think he’s lived a million different lives just cause someone else comes to a different conclusion, y’know?’

‘I understand,’ Simon said with a nod, ‘although, at the end of the day, you do also ave to realise that it’s just a teddy.’

You just stared at him. ‘He’s your son.’

‘And am a proud dad for sure,’ he answered gruffly, earning a laugh from you.

You blink.

There’s a cracking to the right of you, morphing into a crunch before you have much time to contemplate what exactly it was. One second you’re standing, and the next you’re shoved to the ground, your head shielded by the secure hand of your lover as the pair of you hit the ground with a huff. The grass and ground, fortunately, are much softer than concrete, keeping you from any risk of serious injury, and his touch on you feels so familiar it leaves your head spinning.

You’ve been drowsy for a while now, perhaps you're just exhausted.

Despite the harshness of the crack, the rest of the journey to the ground for the tree was quaint and quiet. Once again, all is quiet aside from the heavy breathing from the man lying beside you on the ground.

You search for the bear that had just been in your hands. 'Where–'

‘You’ve gotta be more careful,’ he states firmly, his hand on your back pressing you closer into him. It’s as though he’s anticipating you disappearing at any moment. ‘Be embarrassed if a trees the thing that takes you out… don’t think I could keep a straight face at the wake if that happened.’

His seriousness is gone just like that, and your thumping heart slows.

‘Really, that’s your only concern?’ you ask, pushing yourself up so that you’re sitting on your knees whilst he remains on the ground. Your head hurts. ‘Out of everything?’

He chuckles. ‘Suppose I’d struggle to come to terms with livin’ without you too,’ he says, although (not really) his previous statement remains prominent on your face in the form of furrowed brows. He squeezes your waist as he pulls you closer to him, his professionalism wavering despite the darkness of the night sky.

‘So, did you save me cause you’d be embarrassed if I was squashed by a tree, or did you save me cause you couldn’t live without me?’

‘Mixture of both, I suppose,’ he says through a sigh, ‘you go, am goin’ too. That’s how it works, ain’t it?’

You smile in spite of the aching in your chest. ‘Yeah, it is.’

There’s a sound of static after his words, the pair of you falling from the comfort of your embrace as his hand leaves your side to grab the radio on the side of his belt.

‘Price, this is Ghost, do you copy?’

The goosebumps on your skin begin to melt all for the static from the radio to persist.

‘Price, do you copy?’ he repeats.

‘Dismissed,’ says the voice on the end of the radio.

You and Simon share a look.

‘Dismissed, you are dismissed,’ Price says, his voice fizzling out, although, you are able to make out one final word before the static dissipates, leaving you in silence once more. ‘Rest.’

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itmeansiris · 21 days ago

Text

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: In Your Orbit Gen 1 pt.74

Back home the Gratz kids were none the wiser to the chaos unfolding around them. The adults in their lives were doing their best to hide the tense atmosphere that had descended on their usually carefree lives.

Spirit was in the yard with Zohreh, Ishtar, and Aphrodite. Ishtar had insisted his grandmother teach him how to replant the dragon fruit plant that had been destroyed earlier that morning. Dite opted out of gardening lessons preferring to keep her fingernails clean but sat outside on a blanket and played with Zohreh.

Spirit: A little more soil, make sure you pack it in tight.

She instrusted expertly.

Ishtar: Like this?

He asked, running his fingers through the cool, rich soil.

Zohreh: Dite Dinasaw! Rrawr!

Aphordite: What color is it Zoh?

Zohreh: Gween!

In the front of the house, Kason was spending a little one-on-one time with heir, Venus. Venus was using the time to get Kason caught up on her new favorite pastime.

Venus: Hey Dad, how big do you think a Dicoatl is?

Kason: Hmm. Not sure kiddo. Bigger than a T-Rex?

Venus: That's what Ish said too.

She pushed her heels into the dirt pressing down all her weight. Kason struggled a little under the pressure.

Kason: Well then it must be true. Ishtar is the expert when it comes to dinosaurs. You're getting stong.

Venus: Well I'm the queen of voidcritter and I say you're both wrong. When do you think Mom's coming back?

Kason: No clue V. You miss your mom huh?

Venus: Yeah.

Kason: Me too kid.

Venus: Can I have her pie?

He laughed lightheartedly.

Kason: No. Your mother would have my head. Is that why you want her home.

Finally, she toppled him over onto all fours.

Venus: Maybe! What are you gonna do about it?

She baited him playfully. He bent low pretending to stalk her like prey.

Kason: Come here, you little troublemaker!

Venus squealed and ran away.

Kason: Come back here you!

He jumped to his feet giving chase. He caught up to her quickly and grabbed her.

Kason: Gotcha!

Venus: Nooo! Dad stop!

He howled with laughter as he tickled her before lifting her in the air and putting her on his shoulders. Her giggles could be heard clear across the square. Once she was seated comfortably she asked more seriously.

Venus: Can we call Mom?

Kason: She went to meet with Takara, we should probably wait for her to come home. I doubt she'll be much longer. And she wants her pie.

He added for good measure.

Venus: I think we should call her. Takara will understand.

Kason smirked at her defiance. She was stubborn, but he had experience.

Kason: How will you call if you can't get down to get the phone?

She wiggled and shook struggling against his grip. Eventually, she gave up and released her grip completely, falling backward.

Kason: Nice try V, but I saw that coming.

Venus: Look it's Mom!

The father-daughter duo hadn't noticed M's approach.

M: What are you two doing?

The smile was evident in her voice.

Venus: Dad was crying because he missed you so much and tried to wipe his nose on me!

Grinning, he helped her down.

Venus: Dad said I could have your pie.

Kason: What?! I did not.

Before he could grab hold of her again she took off.

M: No more pie! Get cleaned up for dinner!

She called after her as Kason bent over to catch his breath. He stood and wiped a hand across his forehead having worked up a sweat.

M: You okay?

Kason: She's not a baby anymore is she?

M: None of them are.

They stared at one another. A million messages passed between them. Kason was the first to break the silence.

Kason: It's cold out here. Let's go inside, there's still pie for us.

M: I thought you ate pie earlier with the kids?

Kason: I would never eat blueberry pie without you.

She hadn't cried once during the whole ordeal but this small gesture broke her resolve. He was still putting her first. After she's basically called him a liar. When she had a moment of doubt he had remained sure of his love for her. Tears flowed over her flushed cheeks. Kason gathered her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

He pulled away and tried to lead her inside.

Kason: Come on. I'll heat up your pie and make you a cup of coffee.

She shook her head no, turning and walking to the edge of their property stopping at the fence.

She couldn't let him just forgive her. After the way she walked out on him the other night, she knew he was owed more than just an "I'm sorry."

M: I can't let you pretend nothing happened. You don't deserve to have this swept under the rug.

Kason: M you don't have to-

M: No! I do. Damnit Kason. I do.

She was doing her best to hold back the tears that stung the backs of her eyes.

M: Takara told me that Paris was the one that posted the pictures.

Kason: I kind of figured as much.

M: She also told me about Madison. I know you lied about your work meeting.

She hadn't meant it as an accusation she was just stating a fact. Kason made his way around the fence to stand face-to-face with her.

Kason: I'm sorry I lied about the meeting. I couldn't tell you I was meeting with Takara.

Remorse bled into his words. M could feel him begging to be forgiven but he didn't need to beg she had forgiven him for the little white lie. It was she who was in need of retribution.

M: Trust me, I probably would have lied too if Takara had told me to.

Sighing and dropping her head into her hand, she chuckled dryly. Kason came back around, he stood close rubbing small circles across her back.

M: When I was a kid I friend named Becca. We did everything together. When we got to high school she started hanging with some popular girls. Before I knew it we weren't friends anymore. I was so mad and confused, I felt abandoned. I came home one day after confronting her and I went straight out into the yard with my telescope to stargaze, it was after writing club.

M: My dad came out and asked me what was wrong. When I told him he sat down and told me something I never should have forgotten.

She took a deep breath saddened by the memory of her beloved father. She could hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing beside her.

Jorden: There are a few things in your life you can trust to always be around for you. The moon, the stars, and us.

M: Dad the moon changes phases till it's completely gone and stars eventually die. Just like friendships and just like us.

Jorden: That may be true, but even if you don't see the moon it's still there in the sky and when the stars die they leave behind particles that create new stars. Like your mother and I did with you and your brother. Like generations of star families lighting our way night after night. None of us are truly gone because we've left something of ourselves in the world for those we love. Sometimes the important thing we've left for the world is our loved ones.

M: Seemed like a lot of mumbo jumbo at the time, but now I think I understand. I simply should have trusted my moon.

Before her stood a loyal husband, a loving father, and a reliable friend. She looked into his pale green eyes, in them was forgiveness and unconditional love.

M: I should have trusted the moon that lit up so many dark nights. The moon that changed the tides of my existence. The man that was always in my sky watching over me even when I couldn't see him...Takara told me about the event...She told me everything. I'm sor-

Kason brushed his fingers across her cheek, his touch light as a feather.

Kason: Please don't say you're sorry M. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have told you everything from the start. I should have told you the whole truth yesterday. I got so wrapped up in wanting to give you something special that I forgot to think about what you wanted or needed. I was selfish.

M: You selfish? I don't think that's possible.

He tugged her forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He sighed and buried his face against her neck. She needed no extra invitation to be wrapped up in him. She settled into his embrace caressing his soft blond curls with her long slender fingers.

Kason: It shook my confidence to see the hurt and fear behind your eyes. Not my confidence in us but in myself. I’d been so sure I did everything I could to ensure you knew I was yours forever that I got careless. I got lack and it came back to bite me. It looks like I still have work to do.

M: No Kason, your work is done. This was all on me, I let my own insecurities blind me and you paid the price. I was so worried about being outshined by a random star. You're an incredible man and I thought maybe you'd found someone worthy of all you have to give.

Kason was astounded. Mercury was one of the most confident people he knew. Sure she faced the occasional hardship but even then she'd always seemed so sure of herself. He hadn't realized that even she needed his reassurance every now and again.

Kason: There are a billion stars in this universe and not even the sun could pull be out of your orbit Mercury. From where I’m standing you're the brightest light in my night sky. I love you M.

M: I love you Kason.

Previous Next

Beginning

Poses: rebouks floor bumper poses

@starrysimsie something between us

@sciophobis Little Troublemaker

@libetsims Teaching Gardening

@elen-shine Conversation at the fence

#sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #solar system legacy challenge #itmeansiris #sims 4 romance #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #gen 1 #sims 4 #sims 4 lovestruck

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alearicci · 1 year ago

Text

"just a little scratch...” – DR3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader; daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!you

summary: you, your Daniel Ricciardo and the second practice.

note: I cry like hell. god, why him...

I think you will not like it very much, because I wrote this little one shot on terrible emotions. sorry for the mistakes and OMG, I HAVE 56 READERS TYSM.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ♡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The second practice in Zandvoort.

In the first practice, Dan was the 13th, there is something to strive for and what to fix. In any case, this is not a qualification or even a race, but only a training race where they will be able to practice on the track, assess their capabilities, finalize some points and be fully ready to step into the weekend of the Dutch Grand Prix. He kept smiling no matter what.

He is obliged to show himself well in AlphaTauri in order to return to the RBR.

He dreams about it every time before going to bed and wakes up with the same thought.

He dreams of becoming a world champion. And the Red Bull car is considered the strongest among all those who are on the starting grid. Daniel is not a weakling either.

But it's hard to even think about it when you're on the starting grid with Max Verstappen. Daniel had a good and friendly relationship with Max. But how the Australian wanted to wipe his nose and get around him.

You were standing in the paddock and before the practice started, you decided to approach your boyfriend to wish him good practice and kiss him for good luck. But they stopped you and told you that Dan was ready to leave. You blew him a kiss.

Daniel saw it and did the same. But there was one problem. He was already in his helmet and his visor was closed, which is why he kissed you back, but you didn't notice it.

When the sun broke through the clouds a little, illuminating the picturesque race track, Daniel Ricciardo was determined to succeed. The second training session was about to begin - this is a chance for an Australian racer to hone his skills and get an adrenaline rush, which always occurs when his car was working at the limit of its capabilities. However, he didn't know that this day would test his resilience like never before.

The training started and nothing foreshadowed trouble, although Dan had already noticed the strange behavior of his car during the first training session, but ignored it, considering that it was just a minor problem that could be easily fixed. He did not even suspect that a much more serious storm was brewing, which would destroy his hopes and dreams in a matter of seconds.

Grabbing the steering wheel of his car, Daniel felt a wave of electricity run through his veins. The noise of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the realization that he was about to embark on a dance of speed and precision filled him completely. The pit lane was cleared, and he took off on the track, striving to leave his mark and show a good time even in training.

Working harder and harder with each lap, Daniel was focused, his heart pounding almost to the rhythm of the engine. But just at the moment when he was preparing to masterfully maneuver in a sharp turn, disaster struck.

Ahead of him, Oscar Piastri, a McLaren driver, lost control of his car and crashed into the guardrail.

In the blink of an eye, his entire positive attitude turned into a nightmare. The smile quickly faded from his face.

Daniel tried to let go of the steering wheel, his right hand let go of the steering wheel, and then he grabbed it back when Oscar's car was potentially in his way, which led to terrible consequences.

The blow was sudden and strong, causing Daniel's left arm to even throb with pain. The realization hit him like a dagger–the metacarpal bone was broken. An unpleasant feeling gripped him as he headed back to the pits, his dreams of success in racing slipping away with every agonizing second.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of determination and defiance blossomed in Ricciardo's heart. He knew that he would have to deal with the pain both for himself and for his loyal fans who supported him throughout the journey.

When you saw everything that was happening, you immediately felt your legs give way and your vision blurred. You were about to faint if it weren't for the firm grip of one of the engineers who happened to be near you.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. It could have ended much worse.

Dan was immediately taken to the medical center and you didn't even have time to tell him anything. I could have run and gone with him, but your well-being was seriously shaken. Your heart was pounding, and your face showed concern. The thought of the pain of a loved one tormented you from the inside, but you knew that you had to remain calm for the sake of both of you. You have already seen Daniel overcome countless difficulties, and it was at these moments that you most admired his resilience.

While he was being X-rayed, Ricciardo's mind sank into the depths of his emotions. He couldn't deny the disappointment that threatened to engulf him. The opportunity to demonstrate his talent and compete at the highest level was cruelly taken away from him. And he couldn't realize: whose mistake was it? If he hadn't turned into the wall, would he have crashed into Oscar? What would happen in this case?

He struggled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and a tinge of guilt.

Why him? Why now? Will he be able to regain the level of performance he fought so hard for? How will this affect his further races? Doubt and uncertainty began to creep into his mind, fast and lightning-fast, like a shadow, but Ricciardo did not let him linger. He knew that he needed to channel his energy into the difficult task of recovery.

As soon as he returned to the paddock, with a bandage on his left arm, you couldn't stand it and burst into tears, covering your face with your hands.

Dan came up to you and gently hugged you with his right hand, kissing your forehead.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch. Just a little scratch..."

His light–hearted response did little to ease your anxiety, or rather, did not ease it with everything, but reminded you of the qualities that you valued in Daniel - his unwavering optimism, his ability to find humor even in the most difficult situations. You knew he was determined to overcome this setback, no matter how serious it was.

And you will always be there to support him.

#f1 imagine #oneshot #f1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #dr3 x reader #ric3 #dan ricciardo

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

Text

Among the Sun Ch 12

Description: Miguel has revealed his secrets now it is time to reveal yours. (Also, this is the chapter I mentioned that I half wrote on my bathroom floor, and I'm obsessed with it.) Ch 13

It has all come back to you, every dream, memory, smile, and tear that fell with Miguel at the very center. Those traitorous memories that made a fool of you, all when he uttered such simple words. We are fated.

It was no spell, at least not one born of Miguel’s own abilities. You are uncomfortably familiar with that sensation, with the way his eyes swirl and darken, the crimson color bleeding through. But that is not this. His eyes remain that warm umber color, ever shifting shades of brown, from the intoxicating color of honeyed mead to the deep color of fresh soil, primed and tilled in order for new life to grow. They are the catalyst of his very being, and you, you are ensnared, trapped within a molten pool of warmth, embers flickering as you bury your hands in your skirt.

He looks so different now. Back then he was stumbling, skin ashen, eyes haunted, frame bowed under the weight of some invisible burden you could not fathom. But now, now he is beautiful, divine, and destructive, his skin glows, his eyes, in this moment they burn with anguish but prior…prior they were filled with joy. He stands tall, the weight has seemed to slip from his shoulders, or perhaps he simply became more adept at hiding it.

“I do not know what to say. Y/N…I have longed for you, searched the entirety of the realm—-”

“And yet you had a child with another, you turned me away for another.” You know your words are not fair or even rational, but you are angry, angry, and hurt.

The memories flooding your mind are overwhelming, coming with them is the grief and loneliness you felt during that time, it is a crushing weight, one that nearly takes you to your knees. But you will not fall, not in front of he who abandoned you.

“Do not speak of her.” Miguel says, his voice hard.

It makes you flinch, and you can see his fingers twitch, a need, a desire, coursing through him to take hold and comfort you. He was always so wonderful at that, comforting you.

You remember telling him of how your favorite lady-in-waiting was to be married off to some boorish nobleman who lived far, far, away from the palace, how you sobbed at the uncaringness of the world you lived in. He held you in his arms, hand smoothing up and down your back comfortingly, his voice low as he whispered reassurances in your ear. He never made you feel childish or spoiled for crying so often, and many times, about such small things. In fact, he often believed—and voiced—that you did not give your worries enough attention, that you cast them aside in favor of focusing on the issues of others.

“Mi dulce princesa, eres tan abnegada.” He’d say, as he brushed back the hair from your face, a sad smile gracing his lips.

My sweet princess, you are so self-sacrificing. Was it true? You never thought of yourself in such a way, but perhaps Miguel was right.

You would not do so now, though; you would not relinquish your pain in order to soothe his.

“I cannot speak of the woman you chose over me?” You snap, wanting to dig your fingers into Miguel’s heart and squeeze until he bleeds, as you feel you do.

Miguel gives a short laugh. “If I were to choose her over you, she would be here in your place.”

“Then who may I not speak of?” You raise your chin in defiance. “Am I not to be your empress? Is that not what you called me as you took yourself in hand to my memory?”

A slight shiver passes through him, and you watch as goosebumps cover his exposed skin. “You may not speak of my daughter as if she is to blame, she is a child.”

The fire raging within you begins to falter. It was never your intention to insult his daughter, you held no anger towards her, she had no part to play in this mocking tragedy for which you seemed cast as lead role. “I would never, she is, as you said, a child, there is no blame to place upon her, nor would I ever.”

Miguel deflates slightly. “Do you think that even in my gratefulness, I did not wish the gods had allowed you to be Gabi’s mother? That I did not wish she had your eyes or your smile? She is beautiful, and she is mine, but I wish she was ours .”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words hitting the center of your chest and reverberating out. “I…”

“I am sorry y/n, that I pushed you away, that I did not recognize you. I have been searching for you in every village, every city, every kingdom, every—”

“Brothel.” You cut in, a thick lump in your throat as you recall the rumors. “I have heard the tales, Your Grace.”

Miguel’s tail unfurls from around your ankle, and you take a step back from him, a flicker of satisfaction sparks to life in your chest when his fingers twitch again.

“I thought you had no use for streetwalkers.” You add, the urge to push, and push, and push until he breaks grows strong.

You know him, you did not before, your mind still clouded, but now your memories have returned, and you know him. You know that if you push, if you tug at certain strings within him, he will fall, crumble before you. Is it cruel? Perhaps, but you consider his actions to be cruel as well.

“I waited for you, gave myself only to you, I know I did not ask you to promise you would do the same but I…” It’s true, you had not asked him, but part of you hoped he would do the same, would keep himself for you. It was a foolish thought, and you knew it. He was a man, a handsome man. Men as handsome as Miguel back home would have dozens of lovers by the time they married. Not that there were any back home as handsome as him.

“It is a flaw in my design.” He says softly, staring at your hands, his own tucked behind his back. “A curse within my nature, left behind from the games, I must expend my energy, or I will go mad.”

“You must fuck, so you do not go mad. Miguel, do you take me for a fool?” You deadpan, raising both eyebrows at him.

He hums in delight. “To hear my name from your lips, even said with scorn, is a gift.”

“One I will revoke if you do not cease toying with me.” You say sternly.

“I would only toy with you if you desired it, querida.” He purrs, emboldened by the sound of his name falling from your lips.

You grab the nearest object, a silver spoon, and throw it at him. It bounces off his toned chest and clatters to the floor. You both stare at it for a moment before you shoot him a withering glare. “Flattery will not save you. I have—had brothers, I am not ignorant to the excuses men give women, I have heard them try their pitiful ploys on my companions.”

He holds out his hands in a pacifying manner. “It is no ploy. My mother wished for me to take the throne, a deal was struck, and now I must purge myself of unholy energy or lust will consume my mind.”

He does not look as though he’s lying.

A curse within his nature. The very nature his mother conceived and conspired to create, seeking out a demon, bargaining with it in order to ensure her son could claim the throne, and in doing so she deemed him to such a fate?

“I see.” You say lamely, unsure of how to process this new revelation.

“Could I have held myself off, waited until I found you? Perhaps, but in doing so the moment I found you I would have become frenzied, like a brute, having only the control to find us a private space before I fell upon you.”

His words, though you know, should strike fear in your heart, instead serve to entice you, your breathing picking up ever so slightly.

Miguel’s eyes flicker down to your chest, then to your eyes. “You do not wish that for yourself. Do not wish to be ravaged by me, gown and undergarments shredded, skin marked, fangs sunk into the crook of your neck as I rut into you as an animal does its mate. You would be powerless to stop me, reduced to a babbling pliant mess, my seed spilling from between your legs. I would not be able to stop, cariño, even if you begged me.”

“That would be quite improper.” There is a throbbing in your core, your breath catching in your throat as he steps forward.

“I imagined they were you, compelled them to forget, it has only ever been you, mi vida.” His hands settle on your shoulders, lightly trailing down your arms.

“But Ava?” You breathe, leaning into his touch.

“A foolish attempt to forget you, thin gauze over a gaping wound.” He tells you, brushing his nose down the curve of your face, down the column of your throat until he settles over the spot, he had bitten the previous night. “It did not work; each encounter only drew me back to you.”

Your body molds against his, eyes fluttering shut at his dulcet tones. “Oh?”

“You have branded me, your form burned into my eyelids, your name imprinted on my tongue, your touch melded into my skin, mi emperatriz, there is no one but you.” He whispers, his breath warm on the sensitive skin of your neck, causing a shiver to run through you. Trsl: My empress

“No one?” You ask, a gasp slipping past your lips when Miguel bites down, fangs digging into the very same spot from before, lightning arcing through your body.

He remains there for a moment, drinking, the sound filling the silence as you scramble to remain upright pleasure zinging through you, your thoughts coming to a standstill.

Then Miguel pulls back, lips crimson, fangs bared, his pupils blown wide. “No one.”

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear

#meg's writing #ats #among the sun #I fucking love the dialogue in this chapter #emperor!miguel #princess!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #half demon!miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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herearedragons · 5 months ago

Text

The Hanged Man (chapter 2: No Friends Left)

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Gilded Vale wasn't a good place for a cipher.

As a rule, discomfort was loud. Pain, fear, anger, sorrow, regret - all of those were difficult to bear, and so a mind would seek to be rid of them, subconsciously screaming its distress where no one could hear it.

No one except for Selene.

When the villagers formed a crowd, the sound of their thoughts felt like wading through a sea of thorns. There wasn't a single soul among them without some kind of loss or regret to their name, an ache they wished to escape and couldn't - and the fog of fear and suspicion brought on by the Hollowing and years of purges only served to amplify those thoughts, sharpening their edges.

Most other ciphers could simply close their mind to the noise, but not her. She had to learn to manage; to limit the amount of people she interacted with, to filter important information from the sea of distressed cries, and sometimes, when there was no choice, to simply take the pain.

True, some places in Defiance Bay were even worse than Gilded Vale in that regard; places that were crowded and miserable, and offered her mind no reprieve. Work would take her there every once in a while. But in those places, the streets were familiar, and backup from Hadret House was one telepathic call away; it would be a stretch to say that working there was safe or comfortable, but having a readily accessible support network certainly didn’t hurt.

Not here.

Here, there was one Dunryd Row agent on Gilded Vale's hanging tree already.

Hattorn. The subject of Selene's original investigation, which advanced the moment she happened to look over Edér's shoulder and see her quarry hanging between an elderly dwarf and a folk woman, dead for a few weeks at least.

Unlike her, he wasn’t wearing his uniform. That was the sole reason she decided to pretend Hattorn was unfamiliar to her; if there was a chance that his cover hadn't been blown before his death, perhaps it could still do her some good.

There was also the question of how the Hel he ended up there.

His mission, as far as Selene knew, was to investigate the possible existence of a Leaden Key cell in Gilded Vale. If that intelligence was correct, his death could have been related to that; the Leaden Key did love attaching itself to seats of power and using their resources for its own ends.

Selene could already hear Lady Webb’s voice in her head, telling her not to get too attached to that particular version. Telling yourself stories is dangerous, she’d say; your mind is all too happy to reject the truth for falsehoods that feed your creation.

She was right. Though Hattorn’s ultimate fate was now known, the reason for it was not. Selene would have to figure that out; preferably, without letting anyone know why she was interested in that particular corpse.

It was important to remember that what happened to Hattorn could easily happen to her. The duc's name and a very loose interpretation of a half-remembered law would grant her investigation a semblance of legitimacy for now, but she would have to walk that line carefully - and, in addition to that, she would have to manage her sensitivity more closely than ever.

Edér was a lucky find, in that regard. So far, his mind had been quiet; not silent - in fact, it had been working ceaselessly, a steady hum at the periphery of her awareness - but quiet. Too quiet, Selene would say, for someone whose first experience of the day was nearly being executed; that alone would have given most minds plenty of reasons for crying out.

So why wasn’t his mind doing that?

Maybe it was apathy; maybe acceptance. Maybe he had a death wish, though his distress during the hanging made her doubt that.

Some more digging in his mind would probably give her the answer, but Selene had promised not to do that - and, anyway, the mystery of her new companion’s psyche was far from the first on her list of priorities. That honor now belonged to the murder of Lady Ygrid.

For now, she was just happy that walking next to Edér wasn’t giving her a headache.

According to Urgeat, Lady Ygrid was found further down the path leading past Edér's house; the exact same path they were now walking on. As far as Selene could see, there were no other people nearby; now that the morbid excitement of the hanging had passed, the village almost seemed deserted.

It was quiet. The villagers had scattered each to their own home, putting enough distance between themselves and Selene to allow her mind a little rest. Every once in a while, she could feel a ripple of curiosity from behind a window or a cracked-open door - but even then, the thoughts were too distant for her to truly feel the thorns.

A good opportunity to get her own thoughts in order, and plot out her next steps.

Selene wasn’t expecting to get much from the crime scene. According to the magistrate, the discovery of the lady’s body quickly attracted a crowd; if any of the evidence survived being trampled by the villagers, it was surely damaged by the rain that started soon after.

Still, protocol dictated that she examine whatever was left - and, if she was lucky, maybe there would be an object lost in the mud: a piece of jewelry or clothing, a note, a coin. Something that could have retained a fragment of the lady’s essence, infused with the memory of her last moments.

And, after that…

“Edér?”

Her voice snapped him out of his own thoughts; a brief moment of discordance, and then his focus shifted to her.

“...Yeah?”

“I’d like to get your opinion,” Selene said. “You know the people here. Who would be the most willing to speak to me about everything that happened?”

“Good question. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are kinda everything folks are trying to steer clear of, these days.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, you know. Stuff that might get you in trouble with the gods. Ciphers, animancers, Watchers… And I’m not sure if being Ondra-touched gets you good or bad points, if I’m being honest. Maybe if you convince them you’re here to ease their sorrows.”

A horrible, sickening feeling stirred in the part of Selene’s mind that was best avoided.

She needed to change the topic. Fast.

“I need names, Edér. If I’ll be talking to people, who should I start with?”

“Alright, let me think.”

He fell silent for a moment, absentmindedly scratching his beard. Selene could faintly hear memories being brought up, examined, then discarded.

Finally, Edér said:

“Pasca, the innkeeper. She deals with all kinds of folks on the daily; think she wouldn’t mind talking to you, and, if there’s any gossip around, she’s got it. She’ll probably help you get the feel of the town, too; she’s friendlier with most of them than me, these days.”

Selene nodded.

“I’ll start with her, then.”

The nausea that was rising in her stomach started to fade away.

☾

The supposed place of Lady Ygrid’s murder was hard to miss. The rain had diluted, but not erased, the large bloodstain on the path; the blood had soaked into the small cracks of the paving stones and mixed with the dirt.

According to the magistrate, the lady was found lying on the path, face down, with a deep stab wound in her back. He couldn’t recall who discovered her first, having arrived at the scene much later.

The amount of blood suggested that Ygrid bled out there. A singular bloodstain, without smears or drag marks, meant that she probably didn’t move after she was wounded, nor was her body moved before the villagers found her.

Just as Selene thought, there wasn’t much else. There were signs of intense foot traffic all around, the ground softened by the rain; the murderer’s tracks (and Ygrid’s, if there ever were any) were long gone.

“...This where it happened?”

Edér’s voice came from somewhere behind her back. Turning around, Selene saw that he had stopped a few paces before she did.

The apprehension radiating from his mind felt prickly.

“This is where she was found,” Selene said. “Judging by the amount of blood and what I know about her wound, I’d say that yes, she died here.”

“Got it.”

Edér crossed his arms and frowned, staring down at the path.

“So… What now? You gonna do some cipher stuff, divine the past?”

“Well, I’ll start by just looking around.”

“...Need me to help with anything?”

Selene thought about it.

“Not now. I’ll let you know.”

“Alright; guess I’ll just stand here looking pretty.”

Selene turned away and approached the bloodstain, crouching down beside it.

The blood itself wasn’t any more interesting up close. The question was: was anything other than blood left behind?

A visual inspection didn’t lend any results. Dirt and blood and dirt; nothing that would catch her eye.

Selene took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and listened.

There was the creaking of bare tree branches. There were the faintly audible thoughts of two house cats and one goat, and Edér’s thoughts, restless.

Something about the scene was making him uncomfortable; if Selene had to guess, it was not the violence itself, but the circumstances of it.

Nothing else, though; not a whisper of essence clinging to anything that might have been buried in the mud.

So much for that.

Selene opened her eyes, stood up, and turned to face Edér again.

“Something is bothering you,” she said. “I’d like to hear it.”

His gaze was fixed somewhere between her and the bloodstain, like he couldn’t decide what to look at.

“It’s nothing useful. Just… If she died here, then that’s pretty close to my house.”

“Closer to others, though.”

“Yeah, but - I dunno. I was kinda drunk last night. Not piss drunk, but I passed out soon as I hit the bed. I keep thinking - maybe if I were awake, or at least sober, i would’ve heard something.”

Finally, his eyes drifted over to the bloodstain, and stayed there.

”...Maybe she called for help.”

Now the prickly feeling made sense. It wasn’t just plain discomfort; there was an undertone of guilt to it.

Unearned guilt, too. Whatever happened here obviously wasn’t his fault, but the villagers have tried to hold him responsible for it, and some part of him bought in.

“If she did, the people in these houses would have heard it too,” Selene noted, indicating with a nod the three houses in their immediate vicinity.

“No they wouldn’t,” Edér said.

He pointed to the smallest house, furthest down the path:

”That’s the Carn house; been empty for five years now.”

To the house adjacent to it, closer to them:

“That’s old Serrel’s house; used to be his daughter lived with him, but she left a while ago. He was drinking at the Black Hound last night, way he always does, and he sure didn’t leave before I did; wouldn’t be surprised if they had to drag him out of there to watch the hanging this morning.”

And finally, the house across the path, with a single grey goat penned up next to it:

“And that’s Algar’s. He was at the Black Hound too; now his wife was probably at home, but I don’t know that she would’ve squared up with a killer, and I wouldn’t expect her to.”

So the area would have been relatively empty when the murder took place. It didn’t make Edér any more responsible for the lady’s fate, as far as Selene was concerned, but the information he rattled off in an attempt to convince her otherwise was interesting.

Her hand was reaching for a pouch on the side of her belt before she even consciously thought about doing that, unclipping it open and pulling out her field journal: an unremarkable little book, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, with three ribbon bookmarks and a loop for holding a pencil.

Every Dunryd Row agent had one. It was mandatory. Even the sharpest minds couldn’t be trusted to keep track of all the details of an ongoing case - and if the worst came to pass, the journal would preserve the details of your work after your death. Ideally, you’d hide it somewhere for other agents to recover.

She’d have to figure out what Hattorn did with his journal, eventually.

Selene hadn’t started documenting Lady Ygrid’s case yet. She’d catch up on that later; for now, she jotted down a few points of interest in code that had long become a second language to her.

Victim killed at night - stabbed in the back - bled out in the same place body was discovered

Closest buildings to crime scene:

Carn house, abandoned 5 yrs

“Old Serrel’s” house, owner (lives alone) was at the Black Hound inn drinking (confirm)

Algar (looter) and wife, husband was at the inn, wife likely at home (confirm). Wife could be a witness

There was a slight sense of satisfaction from seeing line after line of useful information appear on the page; her decision to bring Edér along was already paying off.

“Do you think someone could have known it would be this empty here, last night?” Selene asked him.

“Don’t know. I mean, a lot of places in town are empty nowadays - some emptier that others.” Edér shrugged. “If you’re wondering if someone thought this would be a good place for murder, I can say it wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Selene raised her eyebrows.

“What would be your first choice, then?”

“Temple of Eothas, probably. No one ever goes there anymore. Though, you’d have to lure whoever you wanted to kill in there first... Might be easier to just take ‘em out into the fields.”

“...Sounds like you’ve thought about it before.”

“Hey, it’s a small town. We’ve all thought about killing each other at least a couple of times.”

He smirked when he said that, as if sharing an inside joke, but the sound of his thoughts was bitter.

“Well,” Selene said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She looked around, trying to understand whether this place could give her anything else before they moved on for good.

A paved path. Three houses, one abandoned.

What would Lord Raedric’s wife even be doing here - not just in Gilded Vale, but here, on this particular stretch of this particular path?

“Any idea why Lady Ygrid might have come here?” she asked Edér.

He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head:

“Beats me. Honestly, I’ve never even seen her without her husband before. I can remember maybe a handful of times she came to town, always with him. Carriage, guards, all that stuff. You looked at her wrong, you got your bell rung. Raedric’s always been weird about her - and he got a whole lot weirder when she got pregnant.” His expression darkened; so did his thoughts. “...And then she had a Hollowborn.”

That was new information.

“...So when Urgeat said the lord’s heir was lost - ”

“Yeah. Day before you came here. That’s what I thought the hanging was about; Raedric’s been trying to ‘purge’ the Legacy from here for a while. Everyone knew that after a Hollow birth in his own house he’d start killing. That’s why I was gonna leave town today.” Edér gave her a wry smile. “...Made the mistake of waiting ‘til dawn.”

Selene added one more line to her notes:

Victim gave birth to Hollowborn the day before her death

There was one more question she could ask. It was a gamble, but from what she saw of Edér’s thoughts, it was likely that he’d give her an honest answer.

“Do you think Raedric could have been involved in this?” she asked.

His expression and the ripple of contempt that passed through his mind told her the answer quite clearly.

“Well, if he was, we’re shit out of luck,” Edér said. “Not like you can walk into Raedric’s Hold and arrest him, right?”

No, she couldn’t. But she could come back with more ciphers and all the paperwork Lady Webb could muster.

Selene knew that if she returned with even the slightest evidence of Leaden Key involvement, this kind of operation would be approved in a heartbeat.

“If it comes to that, I have options,” she said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Edér stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether he should believe her.

Eventually, he nodded:

“...Well, that’s good to know.”

The ambience of his thoughts seemed to suggest that he really meant that.

“So your answer to my question is yes,” Selene said.

“My answer is, I wouldn’t be surprised. Though…”

His voice trailed off.

“What?”

“...If Raedric was involved, why here? Would’ve been easier to murder her in his own house, bury the body before anyone starts asking questions. Say she died in childbirth.”

“That’s a good point.” Selene paused, thinking about it. “...If you understand this, I’m sure she did, too. She lived with this man. Maybe she sensed the danger and tried to get away.”

“And came to Gilded Vale?”

“Maybe she thought she’d find help here. At the very least, it’s civilization; if she came through Esternwood, she could either follow the road west to Gilded Vale or go south towards Black Meadow. I can see why a noblewoman who had just given birth wouldn’t want to take her chances in the wilderness.”

Selene looked over to where the path stretched on, leading further away from Edér’s house.

“...This path should eventually lead to the eastern road, right?”

“Yeah, it does.”

Edér frowned, his mind bristling with something like concern.

“...Thing is, it takes about a day to travel from the Hold to Gilded Vale on foot, and that’s if you’re making good time. The bells rang just before noon yesterday; I don’t know that she would’ve made it this fast. Maybe if she had a horse.”

Two more lines in her investigation notes.

Possessive husband, could have been dangerous

Victim escaped from Raedric’s Hold? (look for a horse)

All in all, their initial inspection of the crime scene gave Selene a decent amount of threads to follow; more than she had expected to find. She now had a theory, some ways to test that theory, and a potential witness.

Not bad at all.

Once she was reasonably certain they’d gotten all the information they could, Selene snapped her journal shut, tucked the pencil back into its loop and returned the small book to the pouch on her belt.

“I think we’re done here,” she said to Edér.

“Wait, that’s it? You’re not gonna - ” he gestured vaguely - “do any cipher stuff about it?”

“I did, when we just came here,” Selene said. “I didn’t get anything that could help.”

He gave her a suspicious look.

“No, you didn’t. I was watching you.”

Selene nearly smiled at that. It's been a while since she watched someone be gradually introduced to a cipher’s full range of capabilities; the last time she’d experienced that was maybe about eight years ago, when she had a brief stint as an instructor for new recruits.

“Unless I’m using my mind on you , you probably won’t be able to tell when I do it. I tried something when I was looking at the bloodstain; it didn’t work, though.”

“...Huh. Well, what’d you try?”

Selene took a second to consider the best way to explain that. Gods, it was just like talking to a new recruit.

Finally, she said:

“Sometimes, when a person dies, some of their essence clings to an object that was close to them at the time of death. A cipher who’s had the proper training can read that essence, and get information from it. There was a chance that something like that was left behind after the body was taken away - but when I checked, I didn’t sense any essence.”

“...I’m gonna pretend I understood all that.”

Even as Edér said that, Selene could feel something stir in the back of his mind; maybe an idea, maybe a memory floating to the surface. Something she said just now made him think.

Why? And what?

Selene had to actively stop herself from looking deeper, reminding herself of her own promise. No matter her curiosity, Edér’s thoughts on ciphers were not a part of the investigation, and thus none of her business.

��I should talk to the witnesses now,” she said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can spin a convincing enough excuse for you to join me. You are my prime suspect, officially.”

“And my folks said I’d never amount to anything. Well, what should I do, then?”

“Go home. Stay inside.” Selene paused, remembering the sight of Edér’s front door. “Which reminds me… Your house doesn’t exactly lock, does it?”

“Yeah, the bolt is busted - shouldn’t be too hard to fix, though.”

“I meant from the outside.”

“Oh.” Edér shrugged. “Well, pretty much none of them do.”

“...Aren’t you worried about your things being stolen while you’re not at home?”

“Hard to get away with stealing when everyone knows everyone, so folks don’t do it much. ‘Sides, if you have something you really wanna keep safe, you bury it or hide it or lock it in a chest. Works just fine.”

“Algar was going through your things when we showed up,” Selene pointed out.

“Yeah, and he pissed himself when he realized he wasn’t stealing from a dead man.”

Fair point.

“Well, either way, I don’t think it qualifies as house arrest if you can just let yourself out.”

Edér gave her a half smile:

“...I don’t suppose you’d just take my honest word for it?”

“Sorry. Protocol.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he nodded, resigned. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Well, I still think it’s safest for you to stay in your house,” Selene said. “We just need to secure it first. Who's the blacksmith in this town?”

☾

Tuatanu, Gilded Vale’s aumaua blacksmith, regarded her with more sympathy than Selene had expected. A peek into his mind explained it: he was well aware of the stares following her everywhere, and could relate. There were no other aumaua in Gilded Vale.

For fifty pands, he sent her away with a heavy padlock and a chain - and one of his students, who fixed the bolt on Edér’s door and then installed the chain on the outer side of it.

As the man worked, he made a point of not looking directly at Edér even once, addressing and acknowledging only Selene. His mind roiled with fear and resentment; Selene took deep breaths and did her best to let most of it pass her by, but she was starting to develop a small headache by the time the smith’s apprentice gathered his tools and left.

At least his thoughts made it extremely clear that he hadn’t ever interacted with Lady Ygrid; he could barely recall the color of her hair.

Once the front door could be secured from the outside, Selene gave Edér the terms of his house arrest and left, locking the door behind her.

It was the best option for him, at this point in time. Selene was ready to believe that some villagers were sympathetic towards him - Tuatanu, for one, didn’t seem too hostile - but the apprentice’s mind reminded her that the sympathetic ones were probably exceptions.

As she told Edér, the next item on her schedule was interrogating the witnesses; however, the dull ache behind her eyes made her reconsider doing that straight away.

She’d been on her feet for a while; the cart she hitched a ride on brought her within a walking distance of Gilded Vale, but the walk was not short, and she was hoping to rest before she started her investigation in earnest.

The execution in the square called for some changes in those plans, obviously - but now that Selene had dealt with the immediate problem of Edér’s safety and established the terms of her presence in town, maybe there was time for a rest, after all.

☾

The Black Hound was a small, dimly lit place. The only source of daylight in the common room was a tall colored glass window, depicting a cloaked traveler on a road, surrounded by more greenery than there seemed to be in the entire village. It was easily the most vibrant thing Selene had seen in Gilded Vale so far; clear evidence that someone had built this place with love and care, sparing no expense. That same care shone through in the decorations, the steadily burning fire in the inn's hearth, and, most importantly, the clean floors and tables; having stayed in all kinds of establishments in the past, she knew not to take that for granted.

The hour was early, and there weren’t many patrons inside. This meant that the sound of the front door opening was very audible, and drew the attention of everyone in the common room - and, when they saw that the person at the door was Selene, their attention lingered.

Well, that was true for most of the patrons. There were man and a woman sitting at a far table, both folk, with swords at their side; they barely spared her a glance, and went right back to their conversation.

A brief glance at their thoughts revealed them to be mercenaries, passing through Gilded Vale on the way to their next job. They’d slept through the hanging; their lack of interest was due to simply being unaware of who she was, and knowing better than to stare at a stranger who happened to be godlike.

The rest of the patrons were villagers, and they were all staring. Their minds rippled towards her, calling out to her without even realizing it.

Curiosity. Irritation. Anxiety. Curiosity again.

Anger.

Most of those thoughts were idle, brought on by boredom more than anything else, but that last one hit her senses like a pungent smell, instantly amplifying her headache and causing her to wince.

It wasn’t hard to trace it to a table close to the door, where an old folk man was sitting alone, hunched over a cup that appeared nearly empty.

His mind was violently painful; not in the least because he was enduring a splitting headache himself, seemingly hungover, but that directionless suffering was underlined by a sharp, clear resentment directed at Selene herself.

Selene clenched her teeth - as subtly as she could - and held her breath before walking past him.

As she did, she plunged deeper into the old man’s mind. In his current state he was barely aware of himself, certainly not able to detect or resist her advances; information flowed from his mind freely, at the cost of pain.

That was Serrel, the drunkard Edér had mentioned. The reason for his anger was simple: he wanted to see the hanging carried through.

Some kind of wrong done to his family. His daughter - no - someone she cared about.

A man. A lover? A husband? The details became blurrier the deeper Selene looked.

Still, it was a clear enough picture for her purposes: Serrel had some kind of grudge against Edér, and didn’t enjoy being denied his vengeance.

We’ve all thought about killing each other at least a couple of times.

Emerging from the man’s thoughts, Selene quietly let out the breath she’d been holding; for a second, the noises of the common room sounded weirdly muffled, and then her senses snapped back into shape.

She stopped by the counter, feeling infinitely worse than she did when she first set foot in the common room.

She really needed a rest now.

Pasca the innkeeper was a young folk woman whose thoughts were somewhat noisy, but nice to listen to overall. Her mind carried the exact amount of anxiety Selene would expect from the busy owner of an inn, and a degree of curiosity, but no outright malice.

After the dive into Serrel’s thoughts, that was an extremely welcome change.

“Good morning, miss agent,” Pasca greeted her as soon as she approached. “I thought you’d be stopping by later, so we’ve got a room waiting for you already.”

There was the slightest pause - hesitation - before the innkeeper added:

“Hel of a day we’ve been having so far, huh?”

Said cheerfully, but with caution; she was testing the waters, trying to find out where Selene stood.

Based on her overall demeanor, Selene guessed that a friendly approach would work best - and so, she gave Pasca a slight smile and replied:

“I’ve had rougher starts, but today is definitely up there.”

A note of sympathy flitted through Pasca’s thoughts, letting Selene know that she chose well.

“Well, we’ve fallen on some hard times lately, and you’re not exactly here for a pleasant task, but… I do hope you find something to enjoy in Gilded Vale. Our drinks, if nothing else,” the innkeeper added with a little laugh.

“I don’t drink on the job, but I’ll take whatever else you have,” Selene said.

Pasca’s expression fell a little; her thoughts became heavier, too.

“That’s… kind of all we have, at the moment. Tenfrith, our cook, left to stock up a while ago; he was supposed to return by now, and… didn’t. Can’t really do much except pray for his safety and make do with porridge in the meantime.”

A glance across the common room seemed to confirm her words: there was a noticeable lack of plates on the occupied tables.

“How long ago did he leave, and where was he going?” Selene asked.

“He was meeting our suppliers halfway up the north road. He left about four days ago; usually he’d be back in two.”

So he disappeared before Ygrid’s murder, and even before the birth. Tenfrith could have simply run into trouble on the road - but, still, it was something to keep in mind.

Selene took out her journal.

“I don’t think my work will take me that far out of town, but if it will, I’ll keep an eye out for him,” she said. “What does he look like?”

“He’s a dwarf. About this tall.” Pasca indicated a person whose head would come up to her waist. “Pale skin, brown hair, keeps his beard in little braids. He’s got this checkered coat he really loves; he was wearing it when he left.”

Selene noted down the missing cook, the time of his departure and the direction of his travel, as well as Pasca’s description of him.

“Thank you,” the innkeeper said.

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“For offering to look. Like I said, I know you’re here for a job.”

“...Well, I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything.”

A particularly sharp pang of pain behind her eyes reminded Selene why she was having this conversation in the first place.

She put the journal away.

“...How much would a room cost me?”

Pasca gave her an uncertain look.

“Well, for a Dunryd agent…”

“I’ll pay the full price. How much?”

“One hundred copper a night. Six hundred for a week.”

About as much as she’d expected.

“I’ll pay for a week.”

Once the arrangements had been made and Pasca handed her the room key, all that was left was to head upstairs; to rest, taking advantage of the early hour when most of the other patrons were downstairs.

And yet, a part of Selene’s mind was nagging at her. She’d made a good impression on Pasca; it was the perfect opportunity to ask her some questions.

Later, said her headache.

Now, said her years upon years of training.

Was it worth it? If she pushed herself even a little more, she could be out of commission for the rest of the day; at the very least, she wouldn’t be able to interview any of the witnesses today.

Even now, the idea of delving into a mind that was even slightly afraid filled her with nausea, and witnesses were afraid often.

…Well, those interviews weren’t as time sensitive as her previous tasks; the witnesses weren’t going anywhere. Worst come to worst, she could take a nap and then spend the rest of the day on the outskirts of town, away from people, looking for the lady’s horse.

Edér said that she should start with Pasca. Selene decided to trust him.

“Speaking of my work,” she said, tucking the room key into her pocket, “I suppose you were here last night?”

Immediately, Pasca’s posture stiffened a little, her thoughts becoming more alert. That was normal; even witnesses with nothing to hide would feel a kick of anxiety upon being questioned.

Considering that, Selene decided not to bring out her journal again; watching her take notes would only make Pasca more hesitant to speak. It would be better to just have a conversation with her, and take notes later.

“That’s right, I was. I locked up around midnight, then went to bed.” The innkeeper tilted her head aside a little. “...This is about Edér, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t too strange of her to assume that, but it was still interesting. Selene didn’t think much of it when Edér mentioned that he was at the Black Hound last night, but Pasca’s reaction suggested that something memorable had happened.

Normally Selene would jump into the innkeeper’s thoughts to find out exactly what, but right now she’d rather avoid the added strain if she could.

She decided to see how much she could find out with regular questions and a loose monitoring of Pasca’s emotional state, first.

“Among other things, yes,” Selene said. “What was he like yesterday?”

Pasca crossed her arms, twirling a lock of her hair around one finger.

“Well, he came in during the busy hour, which was unusual; he’s been keeping to himself lately. Ever since - “ her voice died down, and her finger stopped moving.

Selene could feel the buzz of apprehension rising in Pasca’s thoughts.

“Well?” she asked softly, trying to put as little pressure in her voice as possible.

A slight grimace crossed the innkeeper’s face. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably lower in volume; she definitely didn’t want anyone else to hear the rest of this conversation.

“Ever since the last hanging. Swithin, was his name. Edér didn’t have many friends left in town, after that.”

“How so?”

“Swithin was his foreman, on the farm they worked on. They fought together in the war, and kept on looking out for each other when they came back; you know how it is. When people started asking questions about the war, Swithin swore up and down that Edér was loyal to Dyrwood, said he’d wager his own life on it.” Pasca sighed. “...Well, eventually they took him up on it. I heard that one day the lord’s men rounded up everyone on that farm, said one of them was working with the rebels to overthrow the lord. Swithin stepped up and said that was him. No one believed it much, but it was good enough for the guards.”

“Sounds like it was his own decision,” Selene said.

“Well, the thing is, Swithin was well liked. No one was happy to lose him - and then some of the folks who were there started saying that the guards were looking at Edér first. I can’t say if it’s true or not, but some of them think Edér should’ve stepped up that day, not Swithin.”

“...Like old man Serrel?”

Pasca’s eyes widened in surprise.

“...Yes, like him. His daughter was - how’d you know about that?”

“People talk,” Selene said.

That cleared up the identity of the man from Serrel’s thoughts, and the cause of his resentment.

She continued:

“So what can you tell me about last night?”

“...Right. That’s what you asked.” Pasca started twirling the lock of her hair again. “Well, like I said, he came in. Bought an ale, then another. He sat right there.” She pointed at a table not far from the counter. “A couple of heads turned, but nothing was happening for a while. Then…” She shook her head. “...It wasn’t exactly a good day. We’d all heard the bells at midday, and knew bad things were coming. Folks were all wound up.”

“What happened?”

“Serrel came over to him, asked what he was celebrating. Edér said something, I didn’t hear what, but it got Serrel going. They went back and forth a few times, then Gafwen and Brethan walked up, asked Serrel if Edér was giving him trouble. It was clear that they were looking for a fight, and it was starting to look like they’d get one, but then Sweynur came over and broke them up.” Pasca shrugged. “Gafwen and Brethan, they listen to him like that.”

Something was off about the tone of her voice. The way she said that last sentence suggested that it was the end of the story, but she sounded a little too eager to move on from talking about a seemingly harmless incident.

Selene took stock of her current state - the headache has not gone away, but improved as she focused on Pasca’s story - and decided that she had one more dive in her, after all.

She brushed against the innkeeper’s thoughts, watching her expression for a reaction; there seemed to be none.

Good.

“But it didn’t end there, right?” Selene asked.

She didn’t need to hear the answer from Pasca herself; the moment she asked the question, the relevant memories rushed to the surface, and Selene only needed to reach for them.

There was the image of Sweynur: a broad-shouldered dwarf with a beard that came to the middle of his chest. The image was still, a moment in time captured in Pasca’s memory; Sweynur didn’t blink or move or open his mouth, but Selene heard him speak nonetheless.

Leave it, boys; he hasn’t got long left anyway. Shame to be doing the guards’ work for them, for free too.

The image blurred and shifted, becoming something different; a glimpse of Edér from behind the other villagers’ backs, sitting at a table, narrowing his eyes at Sweynur’s remark.

His voice, this time.

Don’t seem to catch your meaning, Sweynur.

The image didn’t change, but then it was the dwarf’s voice again, replying:

We all know what’s coming. Raedric’s gonna clean this town out, and he’s starting with your kind.

Edér’s voice.

What kind is that?

Sweynur’s.

Kind that doesn’t know when it’s time to stop singing the old songs.

Edér’s.

What can I say? I’ve got a beautiful singing voice.

The image began to shift quickly, like pages being flipped through at high speed; Edér downed the rest of his drink and stood up, towering over Sweynur. The dwarf remained still, his gaze fixed on Edér’s face.

The sound of Edér’s voice again.

But it ain’t as good as Raedulf’s was. Now that was a singer. Remember him? He was just a kid, but he kept that temple going, ‘cause he cared. You ever care ‘bout anything like that, Sweynur?

Sweynur’s voice, now low with a threatening undertone.

Go home, Edér.

Edér’s voice, matching his tone.

Think I will. Raedric comes by, when you’re done licking his boots clean, tell him he knows where to find me.

And that was the end of it.

Selene let go of the memory, letting reality fade back in.

“...Well, they traded some words after that,” Pasca said. “Edér said some things about the lord. Not exactly favorable.”

No wonder she wasn’t eager to share the exact words. While not exactly incriminating, Selene could see how this exchange - along with a helping of wishful thinking - could make it seem like Edér was planning something.

Selene suppressed a sigh. Obviously, Edér couldn’t have known that the lord’s wife would end up dead near his house, but there was no denying that his timing was poor.

“I see,” she said to Pasca. “Thank you for clarifying.”

Her headache was now beginning to rush back in, filling her skull the way water fills an empty cup. She’d really done all she could now; it was time to wrap things up.

“...I might have some questions later, but for now, that’s all.”

“Sure thing,” Pasca said. “I’m usually here; come on over any time.”

“Thank you,” Selene said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As she stepped away from the counter, the other patrons’ attention rippled towards her once more: curiosity, anxiety, and still Serrel’s anger, burning into her back.

She went upstairs.

#pillars of eternity #edér teylecg #herearedragons writing #project: the hanged man #oc: watcher selene #edérene tag

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