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barnacles34 · 2 months ago

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Bedside (Ryujin x M!Reader)

Tags: Soft!Ryujin, Dom M!Reader, Soft Dom/Sub, 4k+, True Love, Lots of Fluff, Lots of Smut

The morning felt like it was wrapped in a golden haze, the kind of light that pours in slowly, spreading warmth over everything it touches. I woke with a start, the sun carefully layered on my covered body, its rays stopping just short of my face. The blanket was warmed by its touch, a soft cocoon that enveloped me and Ryujin. I turned my head to the side, and there she was, her face inches from mine, eyes open wide, studying me with a serene intensity.

Her gaze was almost hypnotic—those magnificent eyes that seemed to capture the morning light, her thick, pink lips parted slightly in a silent question, and a delicate button nose that added a youthful charm to her sharp intellect. She was stunning in a way that was almost surreal, like a dream that had somehow crossed into reality.

She lifted a single finger and traced a circle on my exposed collarbone with her long, delicate fingernail, the sensation sending a shiver down my spine. “Good morning, babe,” she whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on my bicep, her lips soft and warm against my skin. Her voice had a playful lilt to it, a mix of affection and mischief.

“What do you want to eat?” she asked, her voice a low murmur that carried a sweet intimacy.

I stretched slightly, my arm still heavy with sleep, but my mind was already waking up, tuned into her presence. “Anything you make, babe,” I replied, my hand moving to her head, fingers weaving through her hair, gently patting her. I shifted, offering my arm as a pillow, inviting her to come closer.

Ryujin grinned, a playful glint in her eyes, as she rested her head on my arm. “What if your blood circulation stops?” she teased, nuzzling into my arm, her breath warm against my skin.

“I’ll tolerate it,” I whispered back, my thumb brushing lightly against her scalp, savoring the soft texture of her hair. Her fingers began to inch the blanket lower, tracing slow, deliberate patterns across my chest, her touch firm yet gentle, igniting little sparks wherever her skin met mine.

“Hey, Koji?” she asked again, this time her voice carrying a note of insistence, like a question that had been hanging in the air.

I blinked, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. “What’s up?” I mumbled, my voice groggy but curious.

“Do you want to have dinner with the group?” she asked, her fingers pausing for a moment on my chest, as if waiting for my answer.

“Huh?” I replied, a bit more alert now, my brow furrowing slightly. “Why would you invite me to that?”

Ryujin’s smile didn’t waver; instead, it widened, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t know, I want to introduce you to the other members,” she said, her hands stilling, her palms pressing warmly against my skin. The touch felt more intense, like her words had given it a new weight.

“Wouldn’t Yeji just tell everyone anyway?” I countered, my tone amused, knowing how easily news traveled in their circle.

“They probably don’t even believe her,” Ryujin replied, laughing softly. “She’s always getting pranked and believes things so easily.” I could picture Yeji, her bright eyes wide with excitement, trying to convince everyone, the thought almost hysterical.

Ryujin shifted closer, her breath warm against my neck, her body fitting perfectly against mine like she had always belonged there. Her hand moved again, this time more slowly, tracing the lines of my muscles with deliberate precision, her fingertips a light dance across my skin. I felt her lips press against my shoulder, a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to convey a hundred unspoken words.

I watched her, the way her face softened as she nuzzled into me, the way her body seemed to melt into mine, and I felt that familiar ache in my chest, that overwhelming need to hold her closer, to feel her warmth against me. She was everything I never knew I needed, a perfect paradox of strength and softness, of intelligence and playfulness. I could feel her heartbeat against mine, a steady, comforting rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with my own.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice low, my hand moving to cup her cheek, brushing a thumb along her jawline. “I’ll go, but only because you asked.”

Her eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and delight, and she kissed my cheek, quick and soft. “Good. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

She started to pull away, but I caught her wrist, pulling her back to me. “Not so fast,” I murmured, my lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss. She responded immediately, her body pressing closer, her hands moving to my shoulders, gripping me tightly.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other. “Okay, okay,” she laughed, breathless but happy. “You win. Breakfast first.”

She moved back, moving off the bed with her knees, her hair cascading around her beautiful face. But I couldn’t resist anymore, I grabbed hold of her ankle, and I pulled her back in.

She yelped in surprise, looking at me with a questioning look.

“Let’s do it.” I asked, more of a demand than anything.

“Why are you treating me like I have 10 years of experience, I’m basically sore everyday because of your antics!” She scolded me, mixed with a breaching laughter that eventually took over her irritation.

“How could I resist? Baby. You. Drive. Me. Fucking. Crazy.” Enunciating every word into her face. She stared with all her resolve, which was about a second before she looked away, her wide-eyed pupils frantically moving around. She didn’t have any experience, true. It was her little world I breached with years of experience. Yet, she complimented me so well, so profoundly, her amateur blowjobs, the highlight of my years; the uneven hip movement, the cause of the fire in my loins; her little trembling lips as she climaxed, the afterburn of my lustful passion.

Her face relaxed into acceptance, into affection, she was mine. Slowly our lips grazed, the misty hot breaths enveloping portions of our face. The sweet heat of our interactions grew; my erection was already poking into her navel, my hands already searching, finding, caressing the unbelievable curves of her hips, a genuine hourglass, the most perfect, soft hourglass. Each tight and desperate grip on her hips confirmed one oxymoron after another, her ass like a firm dough, elastic to the touch, warm to the embrace; there was no grip, no swell caress that could satisfy me of her ass, it was perfection personified.

“You like that?” As I caressed her, the side of abdomen, the soft skin underneath her breasts.

“Yes…” she breathed a soft moan against my grip.

I slowly enveloped her neck with my other hand, still lapping at her welcome and moist lips, not to choke her out, but to show her that I have ownership over her, that I was the sole owner.

“Who owns you?” I demanded.

She was silent, I tightened the grip, not on her neck, but the skin surrounding her, I would never, never ever hurt her.

I pushed my erection against her covered wet cunt, a loud “mmph!” sounded, vibrated, against my lips, it was all a sopping mess. It was an extraordinary affair, to the point where I realized the grip on her skin was too much, the imprint of my grip left white surrounded by the red recirculation.

“Who owns you!?” I growled against her face, the separation of our kiss caused by my penultimate inquiry, our cheeks stuck together, slick with sweat, slick with the condensation of love.

“You own me! You… own… me…” she whispered, softly clawing her nails on my nape, thoroughly attached to the side of my face. The seductive breath of her declaration on my ears, the faint waves that serenaded the curves of my ears, riled me up so hard, so fucking hard.

“Yes I do, I own you.” I declared, this time, I pulled my face off, no matter how pleasing the heat shared with our bodies was. There was another award, hiding behind her white panties, the condensed wetness at her entrance, begging for reprieve. Slowly I hooked the fabric covering her heat, a wonderful light pink stared back, slick and glossy with arousal, it begged for the relief that I promised, that I held over her like a diamond on a stick.

“Please”, she said, mouthing the back of her finger, searching for anything to calm her arousal.

I was leading her on, it was euphoric, watching a ‘femme fatale’ writhe under you, begging for reprieve. Slowly and steadily, I climbed on her again, but with a finger grazing, caressing the heat, her pussy, that Ryujin begged to control, it was never enough, of course, it was grazes—caresses that only lead her on more. She was writhing, literally, the striations of her faint abs moved in tandem with the absolute authority she had over her waist. It was surreal. The teasing continued, this time, though, I planted my hand on her body, spreading the essence over her body, the essence that her pussy spread over my hand through just gentle grazes, a streak of a bright sheen across her abdomen, it was divine, absolutely virile.

She breathed heavily, the ceased teasing seemed to give her a moment of peace of mind, her chest heaved in tandem with wavy bounces of her soft beautiful breasts.

“Do you want this cock?” I asked vulgarly. Gripping her legs, waiting for a response, a faint sound was heard, only the submissive tone could be interpreted.

“What was that?” I chimed in, with my head turned, waiting for a more clear sentence.

She quickly grabbed the nape of my neck, pulling herself up with both of her arms. I stumped both of my arms to resist letting both of us fall.

She pulled me in deeper, my ear still turned slightly towards her words: “Daddy, fuck this pussy until I can’t walk anymore,” a chill moan and a vibration exited her body, “fuck me until I can’t think of anything else, paint my pussy in your cum, fuck me until my ass is red with love.” Each sentence weakened the stumped arms, each sentence lowering her onto the bed in tandem with me.

This time, I swiped the condom, making sure that I don’t make the same mistake for the fifth time. This time, I was ready, a full box of condoms, a canvas to paint with my essence: her body. She wrapped her fingers around my hair whilst she kissed all over my face, “I can’t wait, daddy…”

I didn’t even care if the condom was properly on my dick, all I wanted to do was pummel her with my cock, I wanted her sopping wet mess gumming on my cock for hours straight, perhaps overambitious, but anything less with a goddess like her would be tantamount to self-sabotage to the highest degree.

In the haze of the rapid acceleration into intercourse, many significant things were forgotten. One of them is that Ryujin was still sore from our combined passions these past days, second, that I was 10 inches taller, third, that I could lift 40kg quite easily with one hand. This ignorance of my brute strength combined into a display of absolute inequality. With an arm wrapped around her waist, I picked her up; the other arm explored her soft curves, the glowing creamy skin softer than a water balloon. If my dick was trouble for women 10 inches taller than her, then most definitely would be an incomprehensible hurdle for Ryujin, I felt bad, but really, I wasn’t going to stop, not a fucking chance.

When I picked her up, the position naturally assumed a foreshadowing penetration, I kneeled with my dick in full mast, and the crevices between her thighs and ass slotted onto my thighs, her pussy sliding down slowly onto my cock, her wet pussy perfectly aligned for a most grievous exchange of lust.

“You want it?” I swiped some hairs stuck to her forehead, savoring her knotted face of arousal, of a needy lust.

“Yes.. I want it so bad, I’ll do anything, please, just fuck me out of my mind…” Her face snapped closer to my face, breathing slowly against my face, waiting for the ecstatic relief of penetration.

I wasn’t stolid in my determination to tease her any further, and feared the chance that her mind could break any second. And so, slowly, I entered her, the reverberating sound of her sopping cunt squelching against my cock was impossible to miss. She breathed in shorter intervals, desperate waves of air caressed my face, she was moaning noticeably louder against my face, still stolid in her determination to stare at my face, making sure that I felt the breaths of arousal on my face, the fervor in her doe-eyes begging for more, strands of saliva from our wet kisses still connecting our lips in faith.

Each time we have sex, five times so far, it’s electric, not in the way that it’s new; of course it’s new, rather, it’s the pure lust—pure passion that wrings out of our bodies uncontrollably, the smothered flames of lust nudging us into a most perfect arrangement. It’s something my former secretaries couldn’t wring out, former daughters of chaebols irritated by my disinterest; only the virgin lust of Ryujin, the loving embrace, brought my flames out.

And she knows, in her irritated face at hearing about my ‘experience’, she knows that she alone was the only one, to make me growl in her ear in lust, slap her ass in desperation, caress the smooth skin of her god-given sculpted skin, and cuddle with for days.

And so the rapid rumination of our past reflections apexed when I finally buried my cock to the hilt inside her, a final spine-bending moan wrung out of her, the transition into a primal, adrenal, lustful love completed. Swiftly, I pulled her up, her wet mess collecting at the base of my cock, and wet squelches with loud moans synchronized as I sped up, skewering her sopping cunt on my cock.

Her moans were fast, uneven, a rhythm that could never be replicated in any other conditions. Quick and searing ‘Ah!s’ serenaded my ears, only motivating my body to push further, the blood flowing quicker through my body, helping me plunder her insides

“Hngh—I’m gon—I’m gonna—cumm~!” Still seated on my lap, her head fell back, almost spine-bending, her mouth wrenched open with a deep moan exiting her body, tremors shook out her orgasm for the shortest, lengthiest 10 seconds: short in that I wished I could fuck her through the orgasm for longer, lengthy in that her pussy pulsated, varying degrees of tightness that provided wonderful relief, almost making me pulse my essence into the condom, wasting a perfect opportunity to paint her body.

Speeding up against her orgasm didn’t help the matter, she moaned louder, I thought she had already lost the facade of indifference, but her moans were a whole order of magnitude louder.

“Oh my god—fuck me until I can’t walk—carry me to the dinner!” Her mind was loose, anything that went through her head exited out her mouth… adorable.

Oh shit.

I forgot we had a dinner to attend to.

The sudden realization led to a burst of laughter.

Ryujin brought her head back, confused at what I was laughing at, and asked “what happened?”

“Nothing” I replied

“Tell me!” she nagged, with a higher pitch from the afterglow of her orgasm.

“I think you forget that I’m buried inside you.” I planted her onto the bed, missionary style, and pumped–”Ah!” her moan enthusiastically approved the move.

The wet slaps of our skin colliding with each other was wonderful. I pulled her legs up, each leg next to my ears, her thick thighs reverberating the wet slaps even more. We had no sense of time, everything outside our depth of field didn’t matter. Hundreds of hours wasted trying to be mindful, to be present, when I could just make Ryujin squirt on my cock in order to be present, in this moment, I realized my rudimentary instincts.

“Turn around” I demanded, in a tone befit to threaten.

“Ah~~Huh? What did you say?” She asked, a puzzled expression, one muddled with a pleasured expression.

I made sure she listened this time. I approached her head, then her ear, made sure my mouth was close to her ear. Slowly I demanded: “Turn around, point your ass to the sky, you slut…” I swear I could feel her nipple become harder whilst I was pinching it.

She submissively turned around, listening to my demands, pointing her beautiful ass to the sky, with her back arched, accentuating her beautiful bare back, the wideness of her hips, the slimness of her body.

I gripped her waist tightly, everytime I have sex with her, I try to wrap my fingers around her waist. It's always so close, almost touching together. You may ask why I do it. I do it because I can.

“Look at my hands, they’re around your waist, my fingers are almost touching. Look at you squirm on my dick, I can hold you still with one hand around your waist and you’re unable to move, two hands and I own you.” I teased into her ear, pausing extra long every sentence, every pause, I had control, and she loved it.

“Let’s see how I squirm under you.” she said teasingly, biting her index finger as she rested her head against the bed, her face shaped by her beautiful grin, her back arched, reflexing momentarily when laughing.

Honestly, this is the greatest moment of my life, not the billions I made, not the honorary awards I won, it was her, the most beautiful person in the world, that provided me the greatest joy. She was covered in the beautiful sunlight, bent over, the white blanket only accentuating her beauty, her dark hair misshapen across the bed cover. She was bent over, her ass subtly waving at me, waiting for reprieve, waiting for her fire to be put out by my fire, to be dominated in my flames of passion.

And so, I gripped her firm ass cheeks, it was like memory foam, yet softer, yet firmer. I need not explain, she was a polarizing figure, the most paradoxical woman, a goddess. I positioned my tip on her moist lips. In my periphery, I saw her hands adorably clench the blanket, readying herself for the discrepancies in which we extricated our passions.

Yet and so, yet and so. Our sex was in stages, mentally, I dive deeper and deeper into my latent rudimentary mind, one that millenniums of humanity have tried to hard to de-evolve, and yet, she brings it out so easily, in her submissiveness, in her beauty, she knows it not, but she has greater control of me than I do over her. The last stage of the bloom of my caveman mind, an appendix that suddenly took control of the entire body. The soft sounds her pussy made as my dick caved her in prodded me on forth. Each prod a little closer to kissing the end of her cerix, each prod forcing me deeper into a relentless passion.

The absolute serenity of the setting forgotten, the present, the future, the past and what may be, what could be, all forgotten in the haze of the soft wet slaps of our loins. Her breathy moans against the pillow, my strong thrusts that clapped out wet sounds worthy of some of the most obscene sounds you can hear. Her hips moved stealthily, the separation of mind and body apparent for Ryujin, her mind was empty, her eyes retreated back into her head in pleasure, yet her body moved so steadily, her body implored for more, her ass was turning pink from the salivating passion of our sex.

I took peeks anytime I could, staring at her lovely sex gripping on my cock, running trails of her arousal, a bright sheen even under a muted sunlight covering us.

“Ah! Ah~~ please, go slower.”

That warranted a loud slap.

“Owww~!” she screamed into the bed, again, not bringing any resistance.

“You’ll take what I give, you needy slut.” I hooked my hand around her throat softly, naturally assuming ownership over her, I felt her soft, creamy back on my chest as I caved in her deeper, my entire lower half was solely dedicated to pleasure, my top half perhaps more sensibly pushed for ownership.

Her hot means grew more rampant, shorter, more intense, she approached her orgasm so beautifully, so poetically, her face knotted in pleasure so beautifully, how could I ever give her the justice she is due?

The wet slaps grew louder, because I approached my climax, because I wanted to see her ass deform with the inertia I put her through; skewering her on my cock, her ass slapping against my hips.

“Ungh~ Un~ Uuuuunnnghhhh~~!” a lengthy moan escaped her body as she climaxed, a warmer wetness covering my cock as I continually skewered her, pummeled her.

Her arms shivered in pleasure, yet I fucked her deeper, holding down her wrists into the bed. Her arms instinctually begged to be released, begging to shiver, shiver to relieve the pressure of her orgasm, but I’ll make sure that she couldn’t walk, make sure this bed is wet with her overstimulation.

I fucked her relentlessly, still making sure to take care of her, softly caressing her body. I began to slow down, the strokes getting slower, I was getting so close, so close.

“Cum on my pussy… Paint me with your seed…”

Those four words pushed me into overdrive, throwing her over, pointing my sheathed cock, dangerously close to her pussy.

Every muscle in my body was tight, I didn’t care if I hurt my dick when I fisted it, I cared about painting Ryujin, her beautiful body in my seed. Sprays went out, her eyes grew larger and larger after each rope of semen covered her lower half.

I felt like I was almost in a gridlock, every muscle tensed in determination, in pleasure, and slowly my body fell onto Ryujin softly as the shock of sudden relief poisoned my trance. Her arms were open with a warm embrace, hugging me, rubbing her lower body to smear her stickiness onto me.

“Yo-” About to scold her, when she kissed me, deep and passionate, loving and tense.

“Let’s go shower” she whispered, with a lovely doe-eyed stare, her arms still wrenching me toward her face.

#itzy smut #smut #ryujin smut #love #romance #fanfic #fanfic smut #kpop smut #kpop #itzy #sub woman #dom!reader #sub!idol #ryujin x m!reader #ryujin #x #m!reader

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mead-iocre · 23 days ago

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La Castanyada | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: alexia invites you to meet her extended family

warnings: it's a longgggg one

wc: 7.2k words

The late autumn sunlight filters through the mildly tinted windows, casting shadows that danced across your face. You welcome it, deciding to savour whatever little warmth is left before the arrival of the cold in the upcoming months. The only sound coming from inside the car was the mild buzz of the engine, and the low hum of Alexia’s favourite radio station reporting the latest sports news. The car smells of herbarium berries thanks to the overpriced car perfume you purchased a few months ago. Cool notes of fresh-picked blackcurrant berries mingle with flowery rose accents prick your nose. You mentally remind yourself to buy another car diffuser, but maybe not one tagged with a fancy label like this one.

You gaze out the window to a serene scene of fallen leaves and autumnal charm. You had never been so far away from the city before. The journey was worth it though, full of new sights and sounds; with patchwork of amber and rust-coloured trees, charming villages, and vineyards against backdrops of evergreen pines. As you drive further, you past towns surrounded by vibrant landscape of rolling hills and dense forest. Living in the city for so long made you realise just how you missed being around the natural wonders of the world. The car stops at a red light and you glance over at the rusted cobbled pavement, watching as a gust of wind sends a pile of leaves to swirl and dance in the air.

The realisation that you were nearing your destination made your palms sweat and your heart race. Alexia was taking you to meet the rest of her clan. Today, you will officially be meeting her extended family. Alexia’s grandparents had invited everyone to stay at their estate, a home that Alexia had told you countless of stories about. Stories of mornings that start with churros on the breakfast table; Sunday lunches on a long oak table, beautifully set with fine china and crystal glasses; and playing hide and seek with her cousins around the family vineyard until the sun set.

A warm palm clasping your knee startles you out of your daydreams. When you turn your head, warm hazel eyes meet yours. “Cómo te sientes? You okay, amor?”

You hum, nodding your head, placing your hand above hers. She slows down as the car approaches traffic, using the opportunity to focus her attention back to you. You watch the way her eyes study your face, probably looking for any sign that you might be holding back from saying what you were really feeling. She entwines your fingers together before tugging it towards her lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Are you…ansioso?-- nervous?” She asks, focusing her attention back on the road now that the stoplight has turned green. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel, her other hand entwined with your own.

“Maybe a little bit” You admit. You had met Alexia’s mother and her younger sister, Alba before and that went well. In fact, it went so well it turned into regular visits from her mother and weekly brunches with her sister. But this time it was different, not only was Alexia's mother and sister not due to arrive until tomorrow, you were going to be meeting her grandparents. She spoke so highly about them all the time. Her voice would soften and her eyes would glimmer every time she recalled stories about her childhood growing up in her grandparent’s home. If they didn’t like you, you fear Alexia might just leave you.

“Meeting your whole family, it’s a lot. What if they don't like me?”

Alexia shot you an incredulous look, as if the mere thought was unfathomable. “Impossible.” She proclaimed, so confident, so assured. “They’re going to love you. Besides, mi abuela has already seen your picture a hundred times. She thinks you're ‘muy guapa’.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but a picture is different from meeting in person.”

She lifted your entwined hands, giving the back of your hand another kiss. “Mi amor, pictures do not do you justice. They’re not expecting perfection. Just be yourself. They are not scary, I promise.”

That helped, slightly. You sighed, looking out the window as the olive trees and vineyards passed by. “I just hope my Spanish doesn’t embarrass me…”

“Your Spanish is great!” Alexia exclaimed, squeezing your hand. Along with weekly Spanish online classes with a tutor, you encouraged Alexia to speak to you in spanish regularly so you can pick up the language quicker. “But if you want to speak English, that is fine too. I will help you. No te preocupes”

You wrap your other hand around her arm, picking at the soft cashmere coat she was wearing with your fingers. You had bought her this coat, convinced she would look really good in it as soon as you saw it in the store. You were right.

"What if I mess it up?"

“You cannot ‘mess it up’” The last bit was said accompanied by finger quotations. She briefly detangles her fingers from yours to make finger quotes in the air, before promptly entwining them again. Alexia’s voice was soft, but full of conviction. Her hazel eyes were earnest, almost pleading with you to trust her word. “Just be yourself. You will be fine.”

You wanted to believe her. You really did. But the nerves didn’t go away. Instead, they settled deeper, twisting into a tight ball in your stomach. You had never met your partner’s family before, not like this. This wasn’t just dinner with their parents. This was Alexia’s whole extended family, in a different country, in a language that you weren't fluent in.

Looking out of the window, you tried to focus on anything but your growing anxiety. You caught a glimpse of an older couple seated outside a cafe, a group of children chasing a ball down the narrow street and a man leaning against his bicycle, deep in conversation with a shopkeeper outside of a flower store. The scene was peaceful, unhurried, like time itself had slowed down for everyone else but you.

“I’m just… worried,” You finally admitted, your voice small and slightly shaky. You hated feeling this way, not being in control, not knowing what could happen next. “I don’t want to let you down.”

All of a sudden, Alexia swerved and pulled the car to a stop by a street lined with rows of charming little shops. She turned fully to face you, her eyes soft and understanding. “Amor, look at me.”

Rather reluctantly, you met her gaze.

“You could never let me down. Eres mi todo and my family knows, ” Alexia's words were steady, filled with the kind of reassurance that you desperately needed. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they will have to fight me.”

You chuckled weakly, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” She smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te quiero mucho. And that’s all that matters.”

Her eyes scan your face, probably sensing your lingering doubts. She cups your face, her palm warm against your cheek. She brings your face closer to hers. “Eres perfecta,”

Pretty hazel eyes meet yours, all love and affection. She leans in to kiss you, her lips soft and plump against yours. Pulling away slightly, just a breath of distance between the two of you, before she murmurs. Her voice low and hushed , “You know what that means, Si?”

You hum, your eyes fluttering closed, still partly consumed by her kiss. Of course you knew what that phrase means, it was one of the first Spanish phrases she ever translated for you. You tilt your head towards her, leaning into her space, greedy for another kiss.

“Mmhmm. Perfect.” She mumbles in english, her tone is teasing, enunciating the word with perfect pronunciation. Although it is slightly jumbled by your lips being pressed against hers again. She smiles against your lips, no doubt feeling your desperation. Your yearning.

Her hand tilts your face to the side, fingers pressingly lightly against your neck, urging you to succumb to her lead completely. Like all she wants you to do is just close your eyes, kiss her back, and she will handle the rest.

Eventually she starts to pull away, but not before she leaves a teasing bite to your bottom lip, a cocky smile perched on her lips at the sight of the dazed look on your face. You open your eyes half heartedly, your gaze immediately zeroing in on her plump bottom lip still wet from your kiss. “Later” She promises.

And Alexia always keeps her promises.

She tucks your hair behind your ear and squeezes your knee as she leans back into her seat. Both of her hands back on the wheel. “Vale. We’ve still have some driving to do.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The countryside was a picturesque scene of rolling hills, vineyards that span miles and miles, and tall, slender cypress trees. The leaves had begun their slow descent, carpeting the roads and pavements in hues of amber, crimson, and goldenrod, creating a soft crunch beneath the tires. The scent of earth and woodsmoke wafts in through the slightly cracked window. You noticed it earlier, but it’s a lot stronger now. As the car navigates the winding roads, you catch glimpses of traditional stone houses, with their windows framed with charming flower pots that still hold the last few blooms of summer.

As you wound deeper into the heart of Catalonia, the landscape became more secluded. The occasional farmhouse dotted the hillsides, their red-tiled roofs peeking through the autumn foliage, and their silhouettes softened by the setting sun.

And then, as the car rounded the final bend, the mediaeval town of Peratallada came into view. Peratallada with its ancient stone walls and narrow cobblestone streets. The town was full of charm, its streets flanked by ivy-clad beige and gold stone, the weathered facades only adding to it's history.

Eventually, Alexia slowed the car down, allowing you to take in the new surroundings. You take out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the pretty sights. The cobblestone streets were narrow, twisting through archways and past old stone fountains. Vines clung to the walls, leaves now tinged with the colours of autumn, while small terracotta pots with trailing ivy and late-blooming flowers adorned the windowsills of homeowners. Every corner and alley seemed to hold a secret passage—a hidden courtyard, a glimpse of a garden, and even a cosy café where a few villagers sat outside, sipping wine and chatting quietly.

The smell of roasting chestnuts filled the air, carried by the breeze from vendors setting up stalls in the main square for the evening’s festivities. The town was quiet, peaceful, but you can see preparations are being made for the upcoming La Castanyada festival.

As you leave the narrow streets behind, the road opens up, leading you deeper into the countryside. The car continues to meander through the occasional quaint shop-fronts and cobblestone paths until the road begins to slope upward. You sit straighter in your seat.

The soft crunch of gravel under the tires announced your approach to Alexia's family estate, hidden behind tall stone walls and ancient oaks. Gradually, the estate came into view, as the road curved around a hillside, revealing tall gates surrounding the property. You had never seen anything like it.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise as the large dark, wooden gates swung open automatically just as the car pulled up. The car drives through and you spot what looks to be some sort of wooden sign announcing the estate's name, beautifully carved in dark wood. It was like Disneyland.

You knew Alexia came from a well off family, but you were definitely not expecting a family-that-has-a-fancy-sign-outside-of-their-gated-estate kind of rich.

Alexia turns to you, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were bright with excitement, she was practically buzzing in her seat. This was the most excited and awake you have seen her in the last hour of the drive.

She points to your window. “This is my family's vineyard”

You lean forward and sure enough there was a vineyard. The estate was perched high on a hill, offering a panormaic view of the property. The vineyard itself looked like something out of a painting, the grapevines, heavy with the last of the season’s fruit, stood in neat rows, aligned against the backdrop of rolling hills. Beyond the vineyards, the estate was flanked by tall trees offering privacy from the rest of the world.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” You were in complete awe at the scenery.

Alexia's cheeks flushed with warmth. She quickly removed her green cap, brushing out her hair. “My grandparents have lived here for years."

The car continued to drive on. Soon enough an impressive structure came into view. The house--mansion(?) itself was breathtaking— a lavish stone manor with its ivy-covered walls, grand arched windows, and terracotta roofs. Even though Alexia had prepared you for her grandparents’ “big house”, nothing compared to the real thing.

“We’re here,” Alexia said softly, pulling the car to a stop at the front of the estate. She shut off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. She then turned to you and did the same, unbuckling your seatbelt for you out of habit.

As you both stepped out of the car, the cool autumn air enveloped you completely, crisp but not biting. You just stared for a moment, your breath catching as you took it all in. The courtyard was paved with smooth stones, lined with tall, iron lanterns leading towards the grand entrance of the house. The doors, massive and intricately carved, stood closed. Almost intimidatingly.

“This is your grandparents' place?” You asked, still in awe. Who did you know had multiple 2ft tall cast stone vases lined up by the entrance of their homes. No one-- at least until now.

“It’s home.” She took your hand, guiding you toward the entrance.

You felt a flutter of nerves in your belly. You had been excited about the trip initially, but now that they were here, the reality of it all weighed on her.

Would they like you? Would they understand your broken Spanish?

Before Alexia could reach for the doorbell, one of the doors opened.

Alexia’s grandmother, Abuela Carmen, was the first to greet you at the door, her face lighting up with a warm smile. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her dark eyes twinkled as she wrapped her granddaughter in a tight embrace before turning to you.

“And you must be Alexia's girl,” she said in English, her accent thick yet soft. She took your hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. You introduced yourself and she repeated your name back to you with such fondness, as if she had known you your whole life. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. Gracias" You replied, your nerves easing as Alexia's grandmother pulled you in for a hug. Alexia was about to say something about the luggage in the trunk, but her grandmother just flapped her hands away dismissively, instead ushering you both further inside her home.

The house was as grand inside as it was outside. The foyer welcomed you inside, its walls lined with decor and tall paintings. Towards the end of the foyer you could see an expansive living room that you swear is bigger than your entire apartment. A large fireplace dominated the room, its flames reflecting against dark wood beams. Terracotta tiles stretched across the floor, complemented nicely by the intricately patterned rugs.

The walls were painted in soft, creamy tones, adorned with vibrant mosaic tiles. Large arched windows lined the walls, with the wooden shutters thrown open to let in the last rays of the setting sun, bathing the room in a golden glow. The windows framed picturesque views of the vineyard and rolling hills beyond. You were still in awe.

Exposed wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, while wrought-iron chandeliers hung gracefully, the warm light casting shadows across the room. Plush sofas and armchairs upholstered in rich fabrics, blend with the dark wooden tables and cabinets. The sofas were lightly dented and the rugs weren't perfectly brushed out. You could tell that each piece in this room was meticulously chosen with the purpose of making this house a home.

"Show our guest around the sala, Alexia. Then come to the kitchen for some merienda after" Abuela Carmela practically orders her granddaughter. With you, she just sends you a quick wink before nudging the both of you away as she saunters over to where you assume the kitchen is. It’s hard to tell with a house as big as this.

Alexia leads you through the main hall, where a large stone fireplace crackled with a burning fire. Above the mantel, an intricately carved wooden mantelpiece held an array of family photos, a reflection of the generations that had lived and loved in this house.

“We gather in this house every year,” Alexia said, her voice filled with affection. "It's my favourite time of year. It's the only time I get to see all of my family in one place".

Alexia waves you over, closer. You stand on your tiptoes as she points out herself and her sister in the photos, whispering stories of her childhood for every single one. The smile that lights up her face as she tells her stories is infectious, like she was experiencing every happy memory all over again. Stories of bike rides around the town, muddy boots around the vineyard, and summers spent sunbathing at Poseidon Calella beach.

She leads you into the next room, your hand in hers the entire time. The dining room was an expansive room with a long, polished wooden table perfectly set for the occasion.

"Wow. This is the fanciest table setting I have ever seen..." The table was adorned with what looked like hand-painted ceramic plates and bowls, surrounded by intricate silver cutlery and crystal glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. The centrepiece was a beautiful arrangement of autumn leaves, chestnuts, and candles.

"Oh no, this is not where we will be eating," Alexia tugs your hand, leading you around the fancy dinner table and towards a set of French glass doors framed by lush cerulean curtains. She points outside.

"There is where we will be eating"

An expansive terrace has been transformed into a breathtaking outdoor dining space. Under the pergola draped with twinkling lights, a long wooden table stood as the focal point of the evening’s festivities. From where you were standing, you could see hints of colourful glassware, candles, ornate table centrepieces, and neatly folded napkins.

You turn to face Alexia, playfully mouthing a "holy shit" -- one of the first English phrases she picked up quickly-- to which she just rolls her eyes at you. But you can see the corner of her mouth tugging upwards.

"Vale. Let's go to the kitchen. My abuela is probably waiting"

As Alexia led you into the kitchen, you marvelled at the sights before you. The kitchen was any chef’s dream. The floor was laid with terracotta tiles which were noticeably worn smooth by generations of footsteps. You could tell the family spent a lot of time inside this part of their home.

Stone countertops, big windows, wooden cabinets, and a large farmhouse sink. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from a wrought-iron rack above the island, and the glass cabinets were filled with an array of colourful ceramics. Alexia’s stories of how her grandma would cook her infamous Gazpacho whenever she was sick filled your head at the sight of a large, stone fireplace by the corner.

There was a smaller table, placed near the fireplace, looking to be made from reclaimed barn wood. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs, their cushions upholstered in colourful, patterned fabrics. The table was set with a simpler table setting compared to the one in the dining room and the terrace. You could imagine the family using this smaller table whenever they are rushing in the morning and only need to stop for a quick breakfast before school or work.

Alexia's grandmother was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled divine. She greeted you both with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are! Just in time to help,” she said, clapping her hands.

Alexia's grandfather, Abuelo Miguel, appeared carrying a tray piled high with steaming chestnuts. His face, weathered with age, split into a grin as he saw Alexia. “Ah, mi nieta,” he said, his deep voice warm with affection. He set the tray down before giving Alexia a big hug. The kind of hug only a beloved grandfather can give.

Then, turning to you, he gave you a welcoming nod and extended his hand. “And you must be the woman we have all heard so much about.”

Taking his welcome, you smiled back– albeit a bit awkwardly, but the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled at you put your nerves at ease.

"Vale. Keep doing what you were doing" He gestured playfully to the controlled mess around the kitchen, making you all laugh. There were dishes and casseroles everywhere, stuff cooking on the stove and oven. No counter space was left unused.

“Chestnuts are always the centrepiece,” Alexia whispered to you, pointing about the growing pile on the kitchen island. “Traditions say they were eaten back in the day to keep warm during the colder months. These days, we eat them to remember the souls of the departed.”

You watched as Alexia's grandparents moved with an easy grace, tending to the chestnuts roasting in the open hearth. Abuela Carmen was masterful, her wrinkled hands moving deftly as she placed a fresh batch of chestnuts into the iron skillet over the flames. She gave them a gentle toss, and the warm, nutty scent wafted through the air. You swear your stomach grumbled at the smells alone.

You and Alexia got stuck in, plating dishes and gathering the cutlery. Abuela Carmen called you over to watch and observe her roast the chestnuts and Abuelo Miguel showed you how to make authentic Sangria. As the final preparations were completed, you and Alexia helped carry the food out to the terrace. After a few back and fourths, you make your last trip to the terrace carrying a pitcher of the Sangria that you had made. You place it in the corner of the table, stepping back to admire the setting.

The table was made from rich, dark wood. It was long enough to accommodate the entire extended family, with matching sturdy chairs situated on each side. The natural grain of the wood is complemented by a table runner that runs down its length—a delicate fabric adorned with intricate patterns in shades of gold, dark blue, and deep red.

"Barcelona colours. You see?" Alexia points out with a wink as she passes you to put down a platter of cured meats. You roll your eyes at her. You can take the woman out of Barcelona, but you can’t take Barcelona out of the woman.

Each place setting thoughtfully arranged, with ceramic plates, polished silver cutlery, and neatly folded deep burgundy linen napkins held together with rustic twine and a sprig of fresh rosemary. Above each plate were crystal glasses ready to be filled with the finest wines-- to which Alexia pointed out to you that there were separate glasses for red and white wine. You did not know that beforehand.

An arrangement of autumn leaves in hues of gold, orange, and crimson was interspersed with clusters of chestnuts, pomegranates, and small gourds. Among the foliage, candles in glass holders flickered softly, their flames bouncing off of wine glasses. Along the table were small bowls filled with olives, marinated in garlic and herbs, and plates of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Ceramic bowls filled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar sat within easy reach.

Personalised name cards, handwritten on small pieces of parchment, were placed at each setting. You round the table, eyeing each name card, and pausing when you see one addressed to you. Yours was next to Alexia's, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy just like the rest of the family.

Soon your ears pick up on the muted sound of gravel crunching under tires. One by one, cars pulled up to the grand estate, and the echoes of greetings pierced through the silence. You take a deep breath, looking down at your outfit to make sure you didn't have any balsamic stains on your cardigan or any suspicious crumbs on your trousers.

The first to arrive were Alexia's uncle Javier and his wife, Elena, along with their three children. Javier, a tall man with a warm smile, embraced you with a hug. Maria, a graceful woman with kind eyes, kissed you on both cheeks, her greeting rolling off her tongue easily. She had a nice voice, you thought to yourself, but that could just be the nerves forcing you to focus on anything but your growing anxiety.

The children, two boys and a girl, darted past their parents, racing each other to check out the table and all the colourful decorations.

“Alexia, it’s been too long!” Javier exclaimed, shrugging off his blazer and draping it over his chair. He turns to you. “And I'm glad you finally brought your girl home. Welcome to the family, hija.”

Next came Tia Isabel, Elena’s great-aunt, a sprightly woman in her seventies. She arrived with her husband, Roberto, and their son, Carlos. Isabel, wearing a vibrant yellow shawl greeted everyone with enthusiastic hugs and kisses-- including you. In fact, you swear she gave you an extra tight squeeze when she came to hug you.

Soon after a car pulled up with Alexia's cousins, Maritza and Sofia. Their partners trail behind them with their bags and bottles of wine. Maritza comes strutting onto the terrace, her high-heel shoes click clacking, announcing her arrival. She greets you, complimenting your cardigan, and practically steals you away from Alexia to chat. She leads you to the table, sneakily swapping the name card to your left with her own so you can sit together and talk more.

Meanwhile Sofia, who Alexia mentioned is an artist, carried a canvas bag filled with small gifts she had made for the family. After yelling her greetings to everyone, she goes straight to the table and starts picking out wrapped objects from her bag, placing them by the corresponding name card. Everyone immediately goes to open their presents, revealing handmade pottery. There were mugs, bowls, and small plates, each glazed in vibrant colours and decorated with unique patterns and designs. She takes out the last one and walks over to you, holding it out. "This one's for you. Alexia said you love the colour pink and anything with cherries on it"

You stand up, thanking her and unwrap your present. You start to apologise for not having brought anything for her in exchange, but she just waves your apologies away, urging you to focus on unwrapping your gift instead. Underneath the wrapping paper revealed a ceramic white mug with red cherries all over, sweet and dainty. Perfect for your daily cups of coffee. "Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you, Sofia"

Sofia smiles proudly, accepting the shouts of praise directed at her from the rest of the family as well. She bows exaggeratedly before she threatens everyone that they must use their gifts or else.

As the last few family members continued to arrive, the atmosphere grew even more festive. From your view from above, the courtyard was abuzz with activity—children playing tag around the lanterns, and adults catching up, their hands already occupied with their beverage of choice or nibbling on some tapas.

Soon enough Abuela Carmen called everyone to come to the table. It was time to eat. Everyone gathered around, their faces lit by the warm, golden light. The terrace offered a breathtaking view of the vineyard below, the rows of vines now bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

“Come, come, sit,” Abuela Carmen urged, gesturing for you to take your seat. You take your place, feeling Alexia slide into her seat right next to you. She takes her napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across her lap. You follow suit. “I hope this is enough food for your first La Castanyada.”

Alexia chuckles from beside you. She gestures at the feast before you. "It's more than enough, Abuela. Te lo juro"

"Muy bien. Good. I want your first La Castanyada to be perfect" Aubela Carmen looks down at you fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when a light breeze blows by. She gives your shoulder one last squeeze before she walks over to her own place by the head of the table.

You had heard of the Catalan tradition before. Alexia had not only explained it to you countless times before, but you also took the liberty in doing some research before coming. According to your research, La Castanyada is a celebration held in late autumn to honour the dead. The tradition is rooted in the whole family coming together to enjoy seasonal treats like roasted chestnuts and tiny almond cakes.

Between courses, music filled the air. Abuelo Miguel strummed his guitar, leading the family in traditional Catalan songs. Alexia's cousins joined in with their singing, encouraging everyone else to clap and sing. Even the children took turns dancing and performing.

The table was a feast for the gods. At the center of the table, a large platter showcased roasted vegetables fresh from the estate’s garden. Beside it sat a carved wooden bowl overflowing with mixed greens—arugula, radicchio, and delicate frisée—tossed lightly in a vinaigrette of lemon, olive oil, and herbs.

A large paella pan sat ready at one end of the table, brimming with golden saffron-infused rice. It was piled on with prawns, mussels, and pieces of chicken, with slices of chorizo nestled among the rice. Fresh sprigs of parsley were scattered over the top, and lemon wedges lined the edges. Next to the paella, a warm loaf of crusty artisan bread sat on a wooden board. Nearby was a selection of spreads and dips; including a rich, roasted red pepper romesco, and creamy whipped feta with herbs.

Right in front of your plate sat a dish of patatas bravas. The fried potato cubes were smothered in a spicy tomato sauce and drizzled with a swirl of garlicky aioli. Plates of jamón ibérico were carefully fanned out beside it, the thin, ruby-red slices almost translucent. The seafood continued with grilled octopus, charred lightly at the edges and served on a bed of roasted chickpeas and fennel, dressed in a lemon and caper sauce.

Abuela Carmela lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked around at her family. “To La Castanyada,” she began, her voice warm and steady. “To our loved ones, present and remembered, and to the blessings of family.”

Everyone echoed her toast, glasses clinking, blending with the crackle of the fire nearby. With that, the meal began. You picked up one of the roasted chestnuts, still warm from the cazuela. You took a tentative bite, and immediately, a soft sweetness spread over your tongue. The texture was velvety, almost creamy. You did not know chestnuts could taste like this.

Alexia watched you chew, your face screwed up in thought. When you turned to her with a big smile on your face, she subconsciously released the breath she was holding. While you were busy scooping another mouthful of the chestnuts, Alexia secretly raised a thumbs up at her abuela. Abuela Carmen replied back with a quick wink and a satisfied smile.

When the large pan of paella, Alexia used the serving spoon to scoop a generous serving of the rice, with prawns and chorizo, and placed it on your plate for you. She then served herself before passing it down the table.

You pile your fork with the paella, bringing the fork to your mouth. Immediately, the layers of flavour bloomed in your mouth: the smoky paprika from the chorizo, the sweetness of the prawn, and the aromatic saffron that tinted the rice. You chew some more before tucking into your plate again. Gathering another spoonful of paella into your mouth, you were practically dancing in your sea. In the middle of chewing, you turn to Alexia with wide eyes.

She thumbs away the little bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, patiently waiting for you to finish chewing.

You swallow, licking your lips afterwards. “Delicioso”

“Si?” Alexia asks, with raised eyebrows, as if she can’t see the pure elation painted all over your face.

You hum in reply, nodding– practically humming a melody as you eat another forkful. “Si!”

Alexia laughs at you, endearingly, unable to resist the urge to love on you. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to her, and starts raining kisses on your cheek. You blush profusely at her blatant display of affection in front of her family but everyone just continuous on eating, but you can see a few secret smiles on their faces.

“Oye, Carlos! pass the paella, por favor” Alexia calls out. When the plate reaches her, she scoops a serving directly onto your plate.

“We cook this every year,” She says, leaning close to your ear. “It’s part of the tradition. You’ll have to learn the recipe if you want to stick around.”

You look at her and smile, your heart swelling at the thought of being part of these yearly rituals. Glancing around the table, you tried to take in the sight of the rest of Alexia's family and their happy faces. Everyone sat around this large table, passing around dishes and stories. The evening air was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low crackle of the fire. Not a bad deal at all.

From the distance, just across the vineyard, you could see a faint warm glow illuminating, perhaps from where other houses were participating in the celebrations as well.

The evening slipped into a comfortable rhythm. The conversation flowed, mostly in Spanish with Alexia translating when needed, but even when you didn’t understand every word, you never felt left out. Everyone made sure to try and speak English, especially when they were referring to you. Your heart warmed at their efforts.

Javier, ever the storyteller, was in the middle of recounting a story from his travels. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, his voice booming with laughter. You listened intently as you followed his tale.

All of a sudden a hand gently tapped yours that was resting on top of the table.

“So,” Tia Isabel, who was sitting in front of you, asked. She eagerly leaned forward in her seat, her plate pushed aside and she was nursing her glass of red wine. “Tell us, how did you and Alexia meet?”

You smiled, glancing over at the woman with the pretty hazel eyes sitting right next to you. “We met through the club,” You explained. “I work for the club doing all the social media stuff."

Maritza pipes up from beside you. "Oh. Are you the one--uhh how do you say-- filming the videos?"

You turn to her and nod. Maritza looked a lot like Alexia's sister, Alba. If you did not know any better, you would've assumed Alexia had been hiding a third sister from you. "Si. I make and create content for the team's social media."

You catch from your peripheral as your girlfriend suddenly seems very interested in your conversation. She stretches an arm, resting it on the back of your chair.

"So the blindfolded pizza challenge was your idea?"

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. That video was one of your favourite pieces of content you had ever created, and it was an instant hit with the fans. On the other hand, it was Alexia’s least favourite.

Sofia clasps her hands together, practically bouncing in her chair. "I love that video!"

Alexia interjects. "I still can't believe she made me eat olives. I hate olives"

Chuckling at the visible shudder she let out, you smile when you recall the shock on everyone's faces when Alexia blindly picked out the one paper that had olives on it. The rules of the game state that the players must take turns blindly pulling out little slips of paper with a food item on it. They must then put the food item onto their pizza, and bake it. To make it fun, aside from the typical pizza toppings, food options include gummy worms, mustard, anchovies and– unfortunately for Alexia– olives.

So Alexia had no choice but to begrudgingly place a couple olives on her pizza. You will never get over the sight of the Barcelona captain with tears welling in her eyes at the end of the video. Afterwards, she gave you the silent treatment the entire evening.

As the conversation continued to flow, Abuela Carmen stood up, her chair scraping against the tiled floor, catching everyone’s attention. “I hope everyone has room for postres-- dessert,?” she announced with a smile. She motioned for Elena and Sofia, who brought out trays of panellets and sweet potatoes.

Everyone ooooh'd and ahhh'd' as the trays were placed on the table. You watched in awe as the beautifully arranged treats were revealed. Panellets, the traditional marzipan sweets, were decorated with pine nuts, coconut, and almonds. Their sweet aroma mingled with the scent of the roasted sweet potatoes.

Abuela Carmen handed you a small dessert plate. “You must try these, preciosa. Quickly. Before the rest of the family eats them all.”

You graciously took a piece of the panellet, its delicate sweetness melting in your mouth. “Esto es delicioso, Abuela Carmen!”

Abuela Carmen beamed, patting your hand. The crinkles by her eyes deepened until her eyes smiled like crescent moons. “I’m glad you like them”

She turns to the table, quickly grabbing the last bit of the panellets, much to the apparent surprise of the entire family. She places the last piece on your plate. “This is for you.”

The table is stunned for a moment, but they all nod in agreement. That is until Maritza breaks the silence by calling for another toast– this time, to you. You wave your hand around, covering your face in embarrassment but it only fuels everyone to continue teasing you out of affection. Alexia is beaming by your side. It’s sort of a known thing in their culture that people usually offer the last piece of any cake or desert to the people they care about. Her Abuela offering the last piece to you is already a sign of fondness.

Despite your embarrassment over the attention, you gladly accept the last piece of desert and enjoyed every last bite.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eventually, the family gathered their drinks and began to move from the terrace to the courtyard. The space was softly illuminated by string lights and a large stone fireplace. Vintage wrought-iron lanterns hung at intervals along the pergola’s length. Arranged in clusters around the fireplace, there were plush, low-slung lounge chairs and sofas, upholstered in fabrics of earthy tones.

The warmth from the fire pit mingled with the cool autumn breeze. You were almost tempted to excuse yourself to fetch your coat, so when Alexia silently handed you a big wool throw for you to share, you practically let out a big sigh in relief. "no puedo imaginar la vida sin ti, mi corazon. i love you so much"

Your lover just laughs, throwing her head back freely, before bending down to meet your lips for a kiss. You feel her smiling against your lips as she whispers "stop picking up your Spanish from telenovelas, amor"

She kisses you once more before asking you to scoot over.

She took her seat beside you, your shoulders touching, legs cocooned under the throw blanket. There was something magical about this moment right now. Something comforting about the way the stars seemed to glow brighter, the way the fire crackled in the distance, and the warmth of Alexia's hand in yours.

“I am really happy you are here,” she leaned in to whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your temple afterwards.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a deep sense of contentment and belly full of the hearty meal. “Me too, baby.”

As everyone continued to sip their beverage of choice, Abuelo Miguel began to tell stories—tales from his childhood, stories of La Castanyada celebrations that stretched back generations. His voice carried the weight of the years. You could see the flicker of memories in his eyes as he recounted how, when he was a young boy, they would light bonfires in the town square, gathering with chestnuts and special wine specially reserved for the occasion.

Alexia nudge you with her shoulder, her eyes doing that thing where she studies your face intently, silently trying to read your mind. When she likes what she sees, she smiles. “It’s beautiful, si?”

You gaze right back at her, appreciating the way the glow of the fire highlights her face; the sharpness of her jawline, the twinkle in her eyes, and the slight wetness on her plump bottom lip. “Very beautiful,” you whispered back to her.

As the evening wore on, more chestnuts were passed around. Everyone ate them with sticky fingers and washed them down with small glasses of sweet moscatel wine. Talks shifted to quieter conversations as the night settled, the stars brighter against the dark sky.

At one point, Abuela Carmen stood and began to sing a melodic song, her voice warm, the notes hanging in the cool air like a lullaby. Abuelo Miguel joined in, his deep baritone harmonising with hers, creating a moment so tender that you almost felt as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

Alexia shifted closer to you, tugging the blanket higher so it covers you from the neck down. The air was slightly chilly now. She throws an arm around your shoulder, tucking you to her side, letting you rest against her. “I grew up with these songs,” she said softly against your ear. “Every year, we sing them.”

You laid your her head on her shoulder, taking a good look around the courtyard, taking in the scene—the glow of the lanterns, the warmth of the fire, the faces of the people who had welcomed you so easily, and the sound of Alexia's steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I think I could get used to this,” You whispered to the woman beside you, surprising even yourself with the hint of emotion in your voice.

Alexia smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. She cupped your chin, tilting it up slightly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Qué bien, because you are part of it from now on.”

fall is such a romantic season.

i hope your autumn has started off as beautifully as mine. think of me whenever you see leaves dancing in the wind x

・❥・- kisses, butter

read more of the Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection) here

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #barca femeni #fc barca femeni #my fics

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monamipencil · 3 months ago

Text

— on love and cats | j.ww

genre; fluff, established relationship, gn! reader | tw; mentions of cat food? |a/n; oh, life would be better if i had a jeon wonwoo 😔

a giggle, a meow and the soft breeze of the autumn air fills your vicinity. a soft smile graces your lips, watching your lover play with a kitten.

the sun is slowly descending, leaving way for the moon to rise. the soft yellow fades into a muted grey, cascading the world in a serene silence at its beauty. a lone breeze tousles and plays with wonwoo's hair.

a loud laugh rumbles from his throat. he squats down, playing with the kitten. you watch the interaction with a smile on your own. he looks up at you, grinning.

he takes the little furball in his hands and walks towards you. you lean down, and coo at it. he introduces the kitten to you, waving it's hand at you. you do the same, waving back.

“she's the cutest,” he sighs, admiring the little life in his hands. you hum, echoing a 'she is' back to him.

yes, the cat is cute but you can't take your eyes of your boyfriend. the little quirk of his lips, the mirth dancing in his irises, the scrunch of his nose, his wind-tousled hair and the list goes on.

you step closer to him. he stays still. you step closer again. he doesn't move. you lean your head on his shoulder, and rub the kitten's head. it meows and closes it's eyes, content with all the attention.

“i give her food most of the times. she only eats expensive-ass tin food.” he whispers the latter part as if not to upset the kitten.

“yeah, i can see it.”

it lays on it's back, showing it's chubby stomach. you giggle and rub it's tummy. you're unable to contain your coos and laughter. you let your mind wander for a few seconds, wondering if this is how it'd be to start a family with him.

the thought urges you to tuck yourself closer to him. the warmth of his body repels the harsh cold of the autumn air. you circle your hands around his waist, as he lets down the kitten. it gleefully waddles across the street to it's mother.

wonwoo encloses you in a side hug, his hand coming to rest on your back. you watch the mother cat grooms the kitten and soon, a few more kittens come in view.

“and incase you're wondering why i decided to not buy the latest game i like, it's 'cause of this.”

he gestures towards the little cat family. warmth blooms in your chest, and it slowly grows vines, spreading throughout your body. the air messes your hair and caresses your face harshly. you don't feel your face, and hands. the cold autumn does not spare anyone, even lovers.

but wonwoo warms his hands and holds your face, pressing his palms on your cheeks. you giggle, leaning towards him. you do the same and hold his face. he leans his forehead on yours and you close your eyes, trying to engrave this moment in your head. this feeling, this warmth, wonwoo.

and you decide that you can forgive the world as long as it has jeon wonwoo in it.

ditching the taglist cuz literally no one tagged interacts much. hope you understand <3

#wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #svthub #svt #svt fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #svt drabbles #wonwoo drabble

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beomiracles · 3 months ago

Text

⌞ 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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serene-sun · 2 years ago

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𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 ⛦

Fanfics- #serene sun writes ⛦ Random things- #serene sun no context ⛦ Meow meows- #serene sun cats ⛦ Spicy thoughts- #serene sun spice time ⛦ Art- #serene sun art homework ⛦ event requests- #serene sun 400 event ⛦ news- #serene sun environment

#serene sun nocontext #tags

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satori-runa · 1 month ago

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—Morning comes in silence

Summary: You spend the morning in bed with your husband at your side, watching over him as he rests peacefully for the first time in ages.

Tags: Romance, Hinted sexual content but no specific graphical explanations, established relationship, fluff

Words: 0,6k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Gente rays of orange sunlight shimmered through the forst-covered windows in the early morning hours, followed by the graceful fresh snow that carried a familiar cold breeze through the land. Yet, none of that chill reached the comfort of the bedroom that you shared with your husband.

Only the soft, sun-kissed glow filtered in, casting a golden warmth over everything, draping the comfort of your home into a pure teint of liquid gold. It especially highlighted the fine features of the man lying beside you in the huge bed. The white silk sheets pooled around his large form, shared between the two of you. And you could swear, his body could be a canvas painted by the purity of the morning light and the feelings that carried over from the night before.

Capitano was truly a man of many things, status, wealth and power. He could command the word with a singe motion if he desired so and yet here he lay, stripped of the weight of his title, exposed and vunerable under the tender caress of your warm fingertips. Your thumb traced his sharp jawline, brushing over the dryness of his lips, then wound through the smooth raven locks that you had toyed with so many times before. The sensation was familiar, comforting, like a safe haven that you shared in a world full of coldness.

Your cold feet brushed against his leg beneath the sheets, a subconscious search for the warmth and connection that still lingered from the night before. His body twitched at the cool touch, a small reaction to the memory of the heat you’d shared in the dark, but he made no effort to pull away. Instead, he shifted slightly, allowing the space between you to close, his warmth enveloping you as naturally as the sunrise.

No words passed between you, nor were they needed. In the quiet of this sacred morning, your gazes spoke volumes. You remembered how the night began—the way his cold, sharp gloves were the first to fall. He had always hidden his hands, guarded them from the world, but last night, he let them be seen, exposed to your eyes alone. His skin, tinted with that strange, mysterious blue, revealed more than just his body. At first, he hesitated, insecurity flashing in his eyes, but those fears had melted away with the softness of your lips, pressing gentle promises into his skin. You had kissed away the doubts, each touch a vow that you’d never judge him for what he was, for how he looked. All you needed was him, the man beneath the surface.

And he had given that promise back to you, wordlessly. His lips had remained silent, but his hands spoke. They had traced your skin with a slowness that bordered on torment, fingers gliding over your legs, up your thighs, drawing out your impatience with teasing precision. The way he touched you, the way he worshipped you with his hands, was his answer—a declaration that you were everything to him.

Now, in the glow of dawn, those hands rested between the folds of the sheets, still close to you, as if even in sleep he couldn’t bear to be far from your warmth. His raven hair spilled over the pillow, shadows and light playing over his face, making him look softer, almost innocent in the early morning light. You smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock from his brow, recalling how those same locks had been tangled in your fingers the night before, how his breath had hitched against your neck when your cold hands had explored the softness of his skin.

There was a serenity in the room now, a sense of peace that wrapped around you both. The world outside didn’t matter. Status, power, wealth—they were distant, meaningless in this moment. All that existed was the warmth of his body beside yours, the sheets that clung to your limbs, and the silent affection you shared.

#capitano #capitano x reader #genshin capitano #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings

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nyamcot · 2 years ago

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#doodle tag #ok 2 rb idrm #possible new sereniti outfit though I’m not sure? I think I have to draw it a bit more to decide but for a bit the rly long cloak/cape has #been bothering me? :/ like I like it but hmmmmmmmm #I intended her to have the coat similar to red ami when I 1st got around designing her & cobalt too so I’m thinking ab it again tbh #having less of a cloak would make posing easier tbh ack #she still has one here. just shorter and the pointy sun rays from her cloak are on the coat now.#btw sry 4 how ugly the spear looks I was playing around #sereniti #otto #oc tag

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sweettea-and-honeybutter · 22 days ago

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Spooky Season Terry 👀

I gotchu anon 👀🖤 I couldn't actually picture Terry as like something supernatural or not human so I present you with delusional stalker Terry, I think this is probably more dark than spooky...

Want You (oneshot)

A/n: I am purposefully not tagging anyone cause this is a pretty dark story, read at your own discretion and minors kindly fuck off.

Summary: Terry x female reader, you unlock psychopathic behavior within Terry

Warnings/Content: Stalker/Yandere behavior, Terry obsessed, oral (female receiving), mirror sex

Word Count: 4,365 sorryyyy I seem to be incapable of writing a quickie 🥴

He wishes he’d never set eyes on you. Actually, he wishes you didn’t even exist. That first glimpse of you was like some kind of gateway drug, and now he was a full on addict, doing anything in his power to obtain more and more pieces of you.

You were torture itself. What sadistic being sent you to the park that day? Terry watched you, sitting on a bench perfectly placed in the shade of a tree, eyes closed and head tilted up to better hear the singing birds. He admired the serenity that seemed to surround you, and it stirred something in him. Your eyes slowly opened when you heard Terry jogging by, and you gave him a friendly smile, and Terry nodded to you, as if everything was fine. But it fucking wasn’t.

You stayed on the forefront of his mind while he jogged, his memory of you vibrant-your beautiful skin exposed to the sun in your athletic set, your pretty eyes pulling him in within just a few seconds, your plump lips he wanted to suck the life out of. Why? Why did you pick him to trap in your grasp?

Terry took another lap around the park, just to see you again. He stopped in front of the empty bench, frustrated because where the fuck where you, any why was he looking for you? He decided it didn’t even matter, you didn’t matter, he’d never see you again. But his body instinctively led him to the parking lot, and there you were, getting into your cute little car, happily chatting away on your cell, completely unaware of your surroundings. You’d missed the hulking shadow that stood in the spot you just left.

~~~~~~~

It was Terry’s shitty, horrible luck that he ran into you again. He’d been just starting to find other things to occupy his mind. He’d never had a human obsession before. Usually, his compulsions were limited to strenuous physical activities; his time in the military had taught him that being present in his body was a perfect way to numb his mind—a dark place he preferred not to linger in. And he liked it that way. Alone, controlled. So this weird fixation on you? It was new, it was out of control, and he fucking hated it.

That’s why he was so grateful the memory of you had finally started to fade after two weeks. His mind was clearing, and he’d begun to feel like himself again. And then there you were— innocently stretching on your tip toes reaching for the last box of cereal on the top shelf. You just happened to find yourself at the grocery store he’d claimed for himself, because they always had his favorite protein bars in stock. And now you’d taken this from him, too.

Before he could think, Terry found himself striding toward you, his steps stiff, almost as if he were being pulled to you. His broad, solid frame just barely grazed yours as he reached up and snatched the box from the top shelf. You gasped, startled, and turned quickly, a nervous smile forming as you prepared to thank whatever giant had come to your aid—only to falter, the words lodging themselves in your throat.

You felt your mouth go dry under the steely look in his gray eyes. They were beautiful, maybe, but they pierced right through you. His face was unreadable, but there was something so oddly familiar about it.

Terry’s eyes studied every detail of you, and you were even prettier up close—that was just plain unfair. His body was buzzing with energy, his mind flashing with a desire to see you caught off guard as he was, to show you what it felt like. But he wasn’t an animal. You wouldn't rob him of his restraint like you did his sanity. So he reached around you, tossed the cereal into your cart, and brushed past you without a second glance.

“Uh… thank you,” you managed, a confused, breathless call, but the words fell on deaf ears.

What the hell was that? Why did he look so familiar? Why did he look so… angry with you?

~~~~~~~

Terry really played himself, when he’d only meant to play with you. Your scent stuck to him, he should’ve never gotten so close. Why did you have to smell so irresistibly good, like you were created exclusively to make him suffer. He doesn’t want to want you. He purposefully didn’t want anyone at all as much as they always try. But your smell lingered on him, infiltrated his psyche. He had no choice but to follow you home. He hated himself for it, and hated you even more.

From there it was so fucking easy, almost as if you didn’t know you were entertaining dangerous company. Your front door only had 2 locks, you were on the top floor of your building so you never locked your patio door or windows, you didn’t have any cameras. Do you not care about your life at all? Terry would have to fix that, would teach you, once he made you his, how to exist in this world without being easy prey.

He found himself in your place so often now, especially while you were home. It sent a shiver up his spine to move when you moved, expertly ducking around corners to stay undetected. He listened to your conversations, ate the food you made whenever you’d fall asleep, read your journal entry of recognizing the handsome stranger was the same man from the store. And yeah, he even sniffed the toys you used to make yourself cum, stealing your little bullet vibrator, putting it in his mouth once he got back to his place, and he came the hardest he ever has to date, the taste of your essence pushing him deeper into obsession.

His nose is actually what gets him caught. He’d overheard you telling your best friend about wanting to get a furry companion, the puppy of your dreams to make your place feel less lonely. And so Terry, who’s hatred for you was teetering on the edge of affection, got you the ugly little fucker. And it whined and shat and yipped all night. Terry called out of work, because no one needs to experience him so sleep deprived, and made his way over to your place. He laid on your bed, with your sleep shirt over his face, and breathed you in over and over again until the frustration dissipated. Unfortunately for him his heart rate slowed too much, and that's how you found him.

You were having a bad day enough as it is. Your boss sent you home early after being a dickhead to you all day, claiming your poor work would just slow the whole team down. Good fucking riddance, you were already interviewing for other jobs. You didn’t expect to discover a huge, faceless man on your bed. Your body shook as you looked for a weapon, and panicking, you let out a screech hurling all the shoes you could get your hands on. Terry cursed, standing quickly, the shirt still on his head leaving him disoriented and unable to block your throws. You screamed louder at the sheer length of his full height.

“Get the fuck OUT!!” you threw books at his head, backing away as he moved towards the sound of your voice.

“Would you stop-” an umbrella popped him right in the mouth.

“I’m calling the police! Get the fuck out!” you swung and hit his neck, and swung again, jamming the umbrella into his crotch.

Terry doubled over with a groan of pain, and charged instinctively. He’d somehow managed to blindly knock you into a wall, causing you to lose consciousness. He finally yanked the damn shirt off his face. Terry looked down at you, unconscious and vulnerable, and released a disappointed sigh. Look at the shit you’ve gotten yourself into. See how easily he’d taken you down, even when he could barely see? Imagine if it had been some other sick fuck breaking into your apartment. You wouldn’t stand a chance. The thought made his chest tighten, a possessive anger sparking beneath the frustration. You needed him to be the one guiding you, teaching you how to survive in a world full of people just waiting to take advantage of your carelessness.

He leaned closer, his eyes tracing the outline of your face as if committing it to memory. "What would you do without me?" he whispered, a quiet promise he was sure you’d thank him for someday. Gently, he scooped you up from the ground, cradling you close for a fleeting moment before setting you on your bed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. With one last, possessive glance, he left.

But he’d be back. This was only the beginning of showing you just how much you needed him.

~~~~~~~

Terry watched you file a police report, change the locks on your door, install cameras, and purchase a gun. He was pleased; finally, you were taking your safety seriously. You even made progress on being more aware of your surroundings, glancing over your shoulder everywhere you went—yet your eyes somehow passed right over where Terry lurked. There was still so much for you to learn.

A week later, he showed up at your door. He rang your new doorbell, and bent to look right into the camera. The hand that wasn’t holding your phone flew up to your mouth. You didn’t see the face of the man who was in your bed that day— it was covered the whole time. But the look on this man's face, you knew it was him. The intensity behind those striking eyes, it was the same at the store, and the same at the park. Fuck.

You grabbed your gun off your entry table, and held your breath, eyes locked on your phone which was displaying Terry on the other side of your door.

“I know you’re in there, I can hear you.” His voice was so soft, and deep, his lip curved into a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. After a moment, he spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to welcome your new baby home?” He moved back slightly and held up the puppy with a precious blue bow on its ear. It was sleeping peacefully in Terry’s palm, as if it wasn’t being held by a monster. You hesitated. You should really call the police. Maybe if he looked outwardly creepy, you would’ve by now. There was no denying your attraction to him, or your curiosity, but he’d crossed so many lines, probably more than you even knew about.

You unlocked the bottom 2 locks, and kept the chain lock done at the top, cracking your door open as much as the chain would give. You slowly peered at him, hand flexing on your gun, and watched as bent to eye the chain.

“Hmm that’s a nice touch bunny. Although-” you jerked back quickly as Terry reached his hand through, easily finding the latch and flicked his wrist undoing the chain. You stepped back on shaky legs as he pushed the door open all the way, the air seeming to thicken around you. He tsked at you, a mockingly sympathetic smile on his face “-that chain was much too long, I can adjust it for you-”

You dropped your phone and raised your gun, gripping it tightly with both hands, “I don’t need you to fix anything! I need you to stay away from me.” Terry was completely unphased, quirking an eyebrow at you as he shut the door behind him. He stroked the puppy’s soft fur as he walked towards you, his fingers lingering as if savoring the innocence that contrasted sharply with his darkness. He walked until he felt the barrel of your gun dig into his stomach.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that bunny?” He grabbed your wrists with one of his big hands, forcing you to point the gun down as he pushed you to walk backwards until your legs hit the back of your couch. You were breathing heavily, chest heaving into his, lips trembling, eyes darting between his frantically. Terry leaned over you, pausing in front of your face to really take you in, before he reached around you and set your still happily sleeping puppy down on your couch.

When he straightened back up, he brought his other hand down to wrestle the gun from your fingers, and you winced in pain at his roughness.

“Don’t point this at someone unless you know how to use it.” his tone was dark and reprimanding, and you squirmed under his intense gaze as he carelessly threw the gun behind him.

His closeness was making your body grow uncomfortably warm. You looked up at him, eyes wide with fear, body shifting nervously. “What the hell do you want?” Terry cocked his head, squinting his eyes at you, trying to understand if you were really that naive.

“I want you, obviously.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, trying to mask your anxiety with defiance.

“Oh and this is how you show me you want me? Do you think this shit is cute?” You didn’t know his eyes darkening was a warning, you were too caught up in your rising rage. “I mean are you fucking kidding me? Buy a girl a coffee, ask for her number. On what planet does stalking someone, like a fucking loser, ever w-” Terry reached up and gripped your face tightly, squeezing your cheeks so your mouth puckered and you couldn’t speak. His other hand grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his hard body. You were stuck, embarrassingly so, as he looked into your eyes, straight through you.

His lips grazed your own as he spoke. “Careful love,” his grip on your face tightened and your eyes started to water, “just because I’m already yours,” he gently nipped your chin, letting his words sink in through your defenses, “doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like that.” You trembled in his hold, body and mind unable to agree on the proper fight or flight response.

Terry moved his hand along your jaw, around the back of your head to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing you to hold his serious gaze.

“As I was saying, I want you. And after watching you for a while now, I realize you need me.” His fingers tightened in your hair, a dangerous mix of restraint and possession in his touch. You could feel your heart hammering, body tensed as his gaze bore into you, unyielding.

"I know what you’re thinking," he murmured, his voice a dark and smooth, "that you can resist, or that you still have control. But look at you—" his nose nuzzled your own, and a knowing smirk curved his mouth as you shivered. "All I had to do was step inside your world, and now you can’t imagine me gone."

You wanted to deny it, to pull away, but Terry’s grip was absolute. His other hand slid down your back to your ass barely covered by pajama shorts, his fingers pressing in just enough to leave an impression, a quiet reminder of his dominance as he pressed his body closer. Heat radiated between you, the space narrowing to nothing, and with every heartbeat, your defenses crumbled.

"You want me to stay away?" he whispered, his mouth inches from yours, his breath mingling with your own. "Tell me to leave, right now." His words held a challenge, daring you to take control—but every inch of his touch made your mind blur, need flickering to life in defiance of reason. His hand released your hair and trailed down your neck, leaving your skin tingling in its wake.

Your voice barely managed to break the silence, a breathless whisper. "I…"

"That's what I thought." His mouth descended on yours, not a kiss but a claiming. His lips pressed hard, unyielding, a mix of punishment and desire that left you gasping. When he finally pulled away, his eyes held a raw hunger that matched the fire now building in your own.

Terry turned and used the hand on your ass to guide you down your hallway, and his ease moving around your home was unnerving. He brought you to your bathroom and positioned you in front of the mirror, his body pressed tightly against yours from behind, his broad hands splayed possessively over your hips. You could feel his huge bulge digging into your lower back, and you bit your lip trying to mask your excitement.

“Look at yourself,” his voice was low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. One of his hands slid up, tilting your chin so that you were forced to meet his eyes in the reflection. His gaze was heavy and crazed, daring you to look away. “See what you do to me? And you’re gonna pretend you don’t feel it too?”

Your pulse raced as his hot hands roamed over your body, lingering on every inch as if he was committing you to memory. His fingers trailed down to the hem of your shirt, sliding beneath to meet bare skin, his touch both teasing and possessive. He nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Already falling in line, just like I knew you would.” You felt his hand at your waist tighten, pulling you flush against him, grinding against your plump ass, every inch of his body demanding your attention. “Go ahead, bunny… show me how much you need me.”

Your breath caught, and his eyes gleamed in the mirror, watching every reaction you couldn’t hide. His hands wandered higher, fingers cupping your breast and tweaking your nipples with practiced ease, each touch deliberate and maddeningly slow. He watched, satisfaction etched on his face, as you melted against him, every inch of you responding to his command. Your hips moved with his, mouth dropped open in silent pleas, pretty eyes searching his to anticipate when he’d strike next.

His voice was a whisper, dark and possessive, as he pressed his lips to your shoulder, never breaking your gaze in the mirror. “You’re mine,” he growled deep in his chest, his fingers roughly pulling your nipples, his mouth leaving a trail of heat against your skin. “I want to watch you fall apart… right here. Just like this.” You moaned helplessly, the pain, the dark promises, it was so much to process so suddenly, and left you compliant to his will.

You lifted your arms obediently as Terry pulled your shirt over your head, and his mouth watered at the sight. His firm touch pushed you until your face was mushed against the mirror, and you gasped at the cold glass grazing your nipples. You had to brace yourself by gripping the counter with your hands so you wouldn't fall into your sink completely.

“Fuck bunny, you look so good” Terry groaned, grinding into your ass harder, scratching his nails roughly down your back, “but I know I’m too big for you baby, I need to get you ready for me.”

And with that Terry dropped to his knees, pulling your shorts with him. He ran his hands appreciatively from your ankles to your thighs, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy just inches from his face. You squirmed, feeling his hot breath panting onto you, and he roughly gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you crudely, presenting your precious essence to his greedy gaze. He didn’t care anymore that stole his sanity, didn’t care that his attachment to you made you a weakness, you were his now. His to own, his to devour. He inhaled your scent deeply, his pupils dilated, and he gave himself over to the hungry darkness.

His tongue was everywhere at once suddenly, and you cried out at the feeling of his wet lips sucking your clit, his long tongue darting into you, and his hands smacking your ass, forcing you to move your hips to keep up with him. Terry could feel you dripping down his chin, and his eyes rolled back. He’d been starving for you so long and finally you were feeding his gluttonous desire. He moaned into you, bringing one of his hands up to rub your clit, lapping at your juices eagerly wanting to get every drop from you. You were a moaning, babbling mess and he couldn’t get enough.

He pulled back slightly, leaving a bite on your thigh as he eyed your untouched hole, his fingers still harshly massaging your clit. You squealed as you felt him spit right on your virgin ass hole, moving to stand before his free hand smacked your ass roughly again.

“Stay. You can take it, baby.” And his tongue explored where no one’s had before, and you hated yourself for grinding back onto his face, drool leaking from your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation this strange man was causing you. It felt to fucking good. He moved his hand from your clit to thrust 2 fingers into you, groaning at your tightness, at your sweet taste, at the helplessness he heard in your voice. You came just like that, legs buckling, voice hoarse, body overheating.

He gave you no time to recover, quickly standing, not even taking the clothes off his sweating body, just pulling his achingly large dick free from his pants. He needed to have you, right the fuck now, but he also needed you present, in this moment with him. He reached around your limp body that was still leaning against your mirror, and snaked his arm up to firmly grip your neck. You protested tiredly, feeling him arch your body up until the back of your head was on his chest, and you moved your hands to his strong thighs to hold yourself up.

Finally you opened your dazed eyes, taking in your fucked out self before locking eyes with Terry’s in the reflection, noting the delighted look on his face.

“Heyyy, there she is,” you hissed, feeling his hard tip slick through your wet folds as he began to grind, his deep voice coaxing you back to alertness, “that’s my good girl, don’t take your eyes off of us.” Terry watched you twitch and whimper as he smacked his leaking tip against your sensitive clit, and he gave you a sinister smile.

“I want you to watch yourself become mine.” His grip tightened on your neck as he roughly thrusted into you, only able to get halfway due to his large size, and you screamed quietly at the delicious stretch, nails digging into his thighs desperately trying to brace yourself.

“Oh fuck baby, that pussy is so much tighter than I thought” Terry stilled, looking down in fascination at the way your creamy essence trailed down the length of him he still couldn’t fit, and he almost came at the sight alone.

“Its okay bunny, I’m gonna get deep in her, watch me” he excitedly gripped your neck tighter, and brought his other hand to circle relentless fingers around your clit. You gasped and moaned and wiggled your hips slightly, and Terry had to close his eyes at the feeling, silently scolding himself for almost cumming too quickly.

He started to give you shallow thrusts, deep groans leaving him as he felt more and more of his dick settle inside you, and you began to crave the feeling of being completely stuffed, so you started to grind back onto him and his head shot up, eyes finding yours again in the mirror.

“Yesss baby, that’s it. Take more of daddy’s dick” you couldn’t control your noises now, and Terry couldn’t even appreciate the fact that he was fully inside you because you were throwing your ass back onto him so fucking well, ass smacking loudly on his thighs. He released your neck, and used both hands to grip your hips, pulling you back harder.

“This pussy is so good baby, I fucking knew it would be” your head bobbled at the strength of his thrusts, and your eyes never left his face, compelled to being good for him, to earn his praises. “And this pussy is all mine, say it.” His nails dug into your hips pulling you harder, and you disgustingly loved that you’d have marks later to help you remember that all of this was real, and that it really happened.

“Yesss daddy this pussy is yours” you moaned helplessly, tears flowing once again down your cheeks at the feeling of his tip harshly kissing your g spot from this angle. You brought your hands up above you, to grip the back of his head, turning your head slightly so you can look directly into his smokey gray eyes. “I’m gonna fucking cum daddy, you’re gonna make me cum” Terry was transfixed, sweat rolling down his face, mouth hanging open as your pussy squeezed down tightly onto him with your orgasm. This beautiful object of his sick obsession, his helpless bunny he needed to protect from the world, coming undone just for him, finally.

Terry pulled out of you suddenly, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he shot hot streams of cum on your ass, hands holding on to your hips as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this reality. Your hands stayed wrapped around his neck, too afraid you’d drop right to the ground if you let go, and Terry struggled to catch his breath as he rested his softening dick on your ass cheek. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“I know reality will sink in for you later tonight, when I’m gone” his hands softly massaged your hips as he continued, "Try to run, if you want. I’d love the excuse to come find you again." He chuckled softly, and you shivered knowing he was dead serious.

~~~~~~~

Happy halloween ya freaks 👻

#rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond x reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge fanfiction #one shot #spooky season 🖤#yandere #yandere Terry Richmond

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lizzyiii · 3 months ago

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His Lady Love (6)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC word count | 6.3k words summary | all I'm gonna say is blood and cheese. tags | death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, blood (lots and lots of blood), trauma? aemond and reader can't keep their hands off each other, reader don't play when it comes to helaena, canon divergence note | i still haven't gotten over blood and cheese and phia saban's phenomenal acting in that episode. why is there so many oc fics in the aemond x reader tag (no hate). also contemplating writing for loki and oswald cobblepot (penguin in gotham)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“I am happy that my mother has let you become my lady-in-waiting,” Helaena murmured, her voice lilting like a gentle breeze.

“As am I, Princess-” you paused before correcting yourself, “My Queen—the presence of the children brings me much comfort.”

“They eagerly anticipate your visits each day,” Helaena replied with a softness in her gaze that seemed to light the room.

Seated beside the young prince Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, whose precocious spirit was beginning to shine, you cast a fond glance at Jaehaerys, who was determinedly practicing his High Valyrian. Leaning closer, you offered him an encouraging smile, “What does this mean, Jaehaerys?”

It had taken some time for your bond with the young prince to flourish. Unlike his sister, who was as lively and eager as a summer’s day, Jaehaerys was quieter, more contemplative. Yet, you noticed that now whenever you attended to your duties for Helaena, while Jaehaera would chatter your ear off cheerfully, her twin would subtly gravitate toward you, seeking comfort as you played delicately with his soft, silver hair.

“Per—perzis ano...anogor?” he stammered, his timid voice breaking the air with a hint of uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but inwardly smile at his effort; the correct pronunciation was “Perzys Anogar.” After five years spent in the sun-kissed lands of Essos, you had perfected the various dialects of High Valyrian to perfection. Yet, your encouragement for the young prince remained unwavering. At just four years old, his intelligence astounded you. “Very good, my sweet prince. And what does it mean?”

“Fire and blood!” Jaehaera exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, hastening to answer before her brother could. Her eyes sparkled with delight, clearly eager to capture your full attention. Jaehaerys shot her a sidelong glance, his lips pressed together in a playful pout, while you directed your gaze to Jaehaera with admiration. “Well done, dear princess.”

"My Queen," came a maid's voice, cutting through the tranquil atmosphere of Helaena's solar. Both you and Helaena shifted your gaze, "Prince Jaehaerys is summoned for his lesson with the Maester."

Helaena, who sat gracefully upon a pile of richly embroidered cushions, her needlework perched delicately in her lap, regarded her son with a tender smile, her serene demeanor offering him encouragement. "Off you go, Jaehaerys," she urged softly.

The small prince nodded earnestly. Before following the maid through the heavy wooden doors he turned to offer you a shy wave, a glimpse of the warmth that sparked beneath his young exterior. As the sound of his footsteps faded into silence, you turned your focus back to Princess Jaehaera, who was nestled in a nearby chair, fixated on the pages of a book filled with tales of dragons and valor, Jaehaerys had been reading. After awhile, your attention shifted as the sound of eager footsteps resonated through Helaena’s solar. You turned to see Aegon striding purposefully toward you and Jaehaera.

"Lady Mikaelson," he acknowledged with a courteous nod, his gaze lingering upon you for an unsettling moment, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine before he redirected his focus to Jaehaera.

“Where is Jaehaerys?” Aegon inquired, a frown settling deeply between his brows, betraying his impatience.

Helaena’s voice was soft as a whisper, yet it held a steady resolve. “Attending his lessons.”

“And those are where?” Aegon pressed, a hint of mockery threading through his tone, forcing back the urge to scoff at his impatience.

Helaena sighed, a delicate sound that barely pierced the air. “What do you need of him?”

Aegon’s lips thinned, “Taking him to the small council,” he announced, straightening his back with lots of fervor, “He'll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.”

With an eye roll barely concealed, you turned to braid Jaehaera's sweet, silver locks, weaving strands as your thoughts tangled around Aegon’s words. Helaena’s brow furrowed slightly, and you caught the hesitation in her voice. “What if he does not wish to be king?”

Aegon’s huff echoed in the chamber, annoyed, as he leaned closer, palms pressing against his knees. “Where is he?”

“In the library,” Helaena replied, her tone tinged with reluctance. “But you must not disturb his custom.”

Aegon, ever dismissive, shrugged off her words and stepped toward the door. Yet he halted when Helaena's voice pierced the silence once more, "I am afraid."

He pivoted on his heel, regarding her with feigned nonchalance. "Don't be. They'd be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city."

"Not the dragons," Helaena murmured, her gaze dropping to the cold stone floor. "The rats."

Aegon, along with the attendants, followed her gaze, their eyes scanning for any signs of the vermin that might lurk in the shadows.

"The queen is an enduring mystery," Aegon declared, casting a mocking glance at Helaena. "Is she not?"

With that, he departed, leaving a chill in the air. As soon as he crossed the threshold, you rose from your seat and moved to Helaena’s side, offering her a warm smile. "You need not fear the rats; the castle is filled with rat catchers."

Helaena’s frown deepened, her troubled lilac eyes meeting yours as she whispered with conviction, "That is what terrifies me."

Words escaped you, for you understood that Helaena possessed knowledge beyond the grasp of ordinary folk—truths unacknowledged and often dismissed. Instead of voicing your confusion and uncertainty, you simply clasped her hand in yours, offering the silent comfort.

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps as they echoed through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, your heart raced, a rhythmic thudding that quickened with warmth flooding your cheeks and fluttering butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, an unmistakable presence that demanded attention.

It was true what you'd confided to him: you were still a maiden. A maiden, after five centuries of vampiric existence, because how could you interact with any man when Nikaus, Elijah, and Kol perpetually cast watchful shadows over your every move. You recalled a particular moment in 1001 AD, when a reckless infatuation with Tristan de Martel had nearly led you to surrender your maidenhood, only to be halted by Finn’s stern intervention—a chastisement you still felt the sting of.

But Aemond was different. His presence was a siren's call, compelling and irresistible. You had lost yourself in the depths of his gaze, willingly surrendering to the passion that enveloped you, and you never wished to escape the intoxicating spell he wove around you. The ecstasy of your lovemaking had been a revelation, a visceral experience you had never dreamed possible. Despite your initial attempts to keep a distance, Aemond's determination had eroded every barrier you'd erected, and then, as you laid in the warm afterglow of those stolen moments, regret was a distant memory.

In that act, surrounded by pleasure, Aemond had awakened a sense of aliveness within you that you had not felt since you had died. His touch and words made you feel cherished, loved—deep down, you had longed for this connection. Mere days had passed since you had shared that intimate bond, yet every time your eyes met his, unbidden warmth flushed your cheeks anew.

He lingered his gaze on you for what felt like an eternity, an unspoken connection hanging heavily in the air, before directing his attention to Helaena. "Sister," he began, his tone both respectful and confident, "might I steal a moment of Lady Mikaelson's time?"

Helaena glanced between you and Aemond, a subtle spark of understanding dancing in her eyes as she nodded, a gentle smile touching her lips. "Of course, brother."

Rising slowly from your seat, you were acutely aware of the curious gazes from the other ladies in the room. Yet, before you could fully separate yourself from Helaena's side, her hand shot out, delicately grasping your wrist. "Will you come to bid Jaehaerys goodnight before you retire?" Helaena's voice slipped through the air like a delicate melody, inviting yet tinged with uncertainty.

You offered a reassuring nod, your voice soft and warm. "Of course, My Queen."

With that, you turned to Aemond, his patience evident as he awaited your move. As you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of his footsteps fell steadily in rhythm with yours. Once you had retreated far enough from the safety of Helaena's chambers, you paused and turned to him, your voice laced with curiosity, “What did you wish to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond's hands cradled your face, pulling you into an unexpected kiss. Surprise rippled through you, manifesting in a soft gasp, but you quickly surrendered to the moment, your lips responding to his with eager warmth. An exhilarating pulse of intimacy washed over you as you opened your mouth, inviting the dance of his tongue with yours, a sweet entanglement that momentarily erased the world around you.

When at last Aemond broke the kiss, his breath came heavy and laden with unspoken emotions, and he pressed his forehead against yours, that mischievous violet eye glinting with resolve. "I plan to go to the small council to announce our betrothal."

Your breath caught in surprise as you took a small step back, trying to comprehend his words. “Betrothal?” The weight of his intentions settled heavily on your heart.

A marriage with him would be folly; he was a prince, destined for heirs and an aging legacy, while you—a vampire—would remain eternally youthfully beautiful, bound to a dead womb. Yet his audacity ignited a spark of indignation in you, prompting a petulant response, “Aemond, you didn’t even ask me.”

A small, infuriating smirk played upon his lips, a faint acknowledgment of your protest. “Will you marry me then?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “How very romantic of you.” The gravity of the moment drew your expression into something more serious as you continued, “Aemond, we are bracing ourselves for war—planning a wedding now would be utterly misplaced.”

“It will be a beacon of hope for the smallfolk,” he argued earnestly, the conviction in his voice palpable.

"At the cost of the kingdom’s coin," you countered sharply, your voice laden with reality.

He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand, as though to sweep away the logic. “Then we’ll have something modest—”

“Aemond,” you chided softly, lifting your hands to cradle his chiseled face. At your delicate touch, he fell silent, his fierce demeanor momentarily quelled. Deep down, you were acutely aware that his determination to wed you would remain unyielding. In a bid to find common ground you decided to offer an empty concession, “Let us marry after the war.”

His solitary violet eye bore into yours, piercing deeper as if seeking to unravel the very essence of your soul. "You swear it," he demanded, his voice a low thrum of intensity.

Inside, a tumult stirred; 'No,' your thoughts whispered, for you could not predict the war's course. The Iron Throne rightfully belonged to Rhaenyra, and the Blacks appeared poised to triumph. Yet, your heart was tethered to the Greens, bound by an affection that defied reason. The weight of it all threatened to crush you, leading you to contemplate escape back to your world, to your family—a choice that would certainly bring Niklaus's wrath upon you.

But with a deep breath, you embraced the moment, nodding serenely as you wove your words into a gentle lie. "I swear it."

Aemond's gaze lingered in your eyes, a moment stretched between you like the fragile threads of fate. As he nodded, a wave of relief washed over you, warm and undeniable. Yet, as if sealing your pact, his lips found yours once more, igniting a tempest within your heart. The weight of your deception pressed heavily upon you, yet you surrendered to the solace of his kiss, seeking refuge in its intoxication.

The kiss deepened, evolving into something more fervent, as Aemond gently ushered you backward until your back met the cold stone wall. His tongue danced with yours, a fierce desire eclipsing the trepidation that lingered in your mind, as if he sought to claim not merely your lips but your very essence.

A sudden noise pricked at your senses, the swift approach of footsteps echoing through the hallway. In a flurry of instinct, you pushed Aemond away just as a servant passed by. The servant’s gaze flicked towards you, then promptly fell to the ground, yet you could almost feel the unspoken thoughts swirling in their mind. A shiver of apprehension ran through you; you knew whispers would soon scatter among the servants like leaves in the wind.

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Aemond clasped your hands, his grip a mix of desperation and longing. "I yearn to be with you again," he mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your core.

"I feel the same," you replied softly, bringing his hands to your lips in a tender gesture, savoring the skin you coveted.

Alas, the moment was fleeting, as the sound of hurried footfalls approached again prompting the two of you to separate once more. Aemond exhaled, a hint of irritation lacing his tone. "And yet, in this castle, we are forever denied our privacy."

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you propose?"

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze, before his lips parted to reveal his audacious suggestion. "The Street of Silk."

"Aemond—" you interjected, surprise and concern overtaking your thoughts.

"Calm yourself," he urged, his hands finding their way to your waist, drawing you closer, the warmth of his body burning away your reservations. "We would seek only a room, nothing more. A night enveloped in our own secret, away from prying eyes."

A hesitant sigh escaped your lips, your heart fluttering at the prospect yet tethered by caution. "Aemond."

In a tender gesture, he kissed your forehead, followed by soft pecks on your cheeks, then lingered with his lips brushing against yours. It was pathetic how quickly you melted under his affection, yearning for the contact that ignited a fire within you. His voice, barely above a whisper, danced against your lips, "Tonight?"

With a surrender that surprised even yourself, you acquiesced. "Alright." His eye sparkled with triumph as he finally pressed his lips against yours, granting you the sweetness you craved.

Yet, he broke away, his breath mingling with yours. "I shall meet you at your chambers—"

"No," you countered softly, concern lacing your words. "It would be dangerous for us to be seen leaving the castle together."

He regarded you with a stern expression, a protective glimmer in his eye as he shook his head. "Fleabottom is no place for a lady to wander alone."

You smiled gently at his earnestness, reassured him with conviction, "I��ll be fine, Aemond. I promise."

With a resigned sigh from you, he leaned in to steal another kiss, the taste of his resolve lingering. "Then it is settled. Meet me at the Blue Pearl tonight."

“I will,” you vowed, your mind clouded by the intoxicating pull of his presence, rational thought slipping away like sand through fingers.

The Keep lay shrouded in an eerie silence as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor from your chambers. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, as if the very walls held their breath, rendering the castle a hollow shell. With purpose, you made your way toward the Queen’s chambers, determined to fulfill your promise to Helaena and bid the twins a gentle goodnight.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around your shoulders, bracing against the biting winds that swept through the stone hallways. A sense of foreboding clawed at your thoughts, quickening your steps as you approached Helaena's solar.

As you neared her chambers, the quiet was shattered by a pained whimper—a sound that sent a chill racing down your spine. Without hesitation, you pushed through the door, only to freeze in shock at the scene before you. A filthy man loomed over Helaena, his grip merciless as he held a knife to her delicate throat. The metallic scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, as you noticed a small nick on her neck.

Your instincts flared to life, propelling you forward to confront the intruder. But before you could move, strong arms encircled you, halting your advance. "Who the fuck is she?" the brute growled, his gaze locked onto the man who held Helaena captive.

“She’s the queen she is,” the crazed man replied, a sickly laugh escaping his lips, his gaze dancing between you and Helaena, relishing the chaos.

“A son for a son, he said,” came the rough retort of the man holding you, his grip tightening like a vice. “Does she look like a fucking son to you?”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—revenge. These madmen had been sent by the Blacks, likely by Daemon himself, to claim a son in return for Lucerys Valaryon.

Pointing with a blood-stained finger, the deranged man holding Helaena, gestured to the cribs across the room, where Jaehaerys and Jaehaera lay asleep, vulnerable to the whims of fate. “Over there,” he sneered, a glint of madness flashing across his eyes.

A chilling wave of nausea washed over you as dread seeped into your heart, realizing the intent behind his actions. Yet, even with the unfathomable power you possessed, you hesitated. You could kill these men in mere moments, reduce them to shredded pieces, but the fear in Helaena’s wide eyes anchored you. You could not afford to frighten her further.

“Release her,” you commanded, your tone a blend of authority and menace, ever mindful of the trembling figure of the queen. “You do not know the darkness you invite with your intentions”

The grip of the man holding you tightened, his fingers like iron shackles, deaf to your words. Instead, the madman holding Helaena chortled, an unsettling sound that grated against your nerves. "We need to get our head and get out."

A simmering rage ignited within you at his vile insinuation, your voice turning low and menacing as you retorted, "If you dare imply what I think, know that your life shall end before you can ever look upon the prince."

The large brute, his bulk a grotesque parody of strength, pressed his clammy hand against your throat, constricting it as he growled, "Shut your fucking mouth, woman."

In that chilling moment, Helaena found her voice, her eyes wide with terror as they darted between you and the man’s tightening grasp. "I have a necklace," she stammered, her heart echoing her fear, "It's of great value."

The man holding you scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "That’s not a son."

His grip tightened further, but to you, it was nothing more than the grasp of a mere mortal, a fleeting nuisance. With an air of fatalistic calm, you shrugged, “I’ve warned you, and now you shall reap the consequences.”

As the darkness of your true nature surged, crimson flames ignited in your gaze. Veins suffused with blood snaked under your skin and the sharp glint of fangs elongated in exquisite hunger. The man holding Helaena faltered, the smile that once adorned his lips vanished, replaced by a primal terror as he regarded you. “What’s—what’s happening to your face?!”

Confusion roiled in the eyes of the man who had once held your throat captive. Before he could fully comprehend the depths of his error, you moved with the swiftness of a striking snake, your head whipping around as you buried your fangs deep into his pallid flesh. His scream reverberated like a death knell against the stone.

With one fierce tug, you tore into him—a vicious rip that sent a warm spray of blood cascading over your face, painting your features in hues of crimson. The brute’s body slackened, his grip fading as life bled from him like the night fleeing before dawn. He crumpled to the ground dead.

Your attention shifted, a predatory glare now focused on the other man, who quivered holding Helaena securely but fearfully at knifepoint. His confidence wavered as your fury ignited the air around you, and he stepped back, terror threading his voice, “If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill her—”

In a heartbeat, you were before him. Your eyes cooled to an earthly hue, compelling yet cold, as your voice held the weight of your compulsion. “Step away from the queen."

The resolve in his eyes shattered, obedience taking root as he released Helaena, fear transforming into a savage obedience. But that was not enough; oh no, they would pay dearly for their actions. You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a whisper laced with venom. “Now… stick your knife in your throat.”

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, streaming with unspoken horror as he felt the weight of your will. Whimpering like a child at the mercy of a storm, he struggled against the compulsion, but your magic throbbed through the air, binding him tighter within your grasp. The dagger trembled in his hand before the metal found flesh, cutting deeply as crimson blessing spilled forth. He gasped, choking as despair overwhelmed him, stabbing again and again until his last breath escaped into the silence of the room, and dropped to the ground.

In the wake of such violence, as blood pooled and splattered across the cold floor, your features softened, the fierce gleam fading from your visage. Your fangs retracted, and your eyes reverted to their natural colour, the monstrous visage slipping away like a shadow at dawn.

A tumult of emotions swirled within you—fear, regret—until your gaze flicked to Helaena, ready to face the disgust you expected. Yet, as her eyes met yours, confusion twisted within you; there was no horror, no disgust in her gaze—only a profound relief.

You took a hesitant step back, bewildered by her calm demeanor. "Are you not afraid of me?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion as she softly said, “You saved us."

You realized she might be still grappling with the shock, as she drifted across the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. She bypassed the gruesome scene left in your wake, retrieving a handkerchief with an unsettling nonchalance. Approaching you with a tender resolve, she reached forth, seeking to wipe the blood from your face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality that had just unfolded.

Yet, as the fabric of her care swept across your skin, your brow furrowed at the sight of tears beginning to brim in Helaena's eyes. “Helaena—what's wrong?” you implored, clasping her trembling hands firmly within yours. “You need not fear; all is well now, you are safe.”

Her tears continued to spill softly, tracing delicate paths down her pale cheeks, as she whispered in a voice that seemed to drift like a dream, “I thought I was lost in one of my dreams. I did not realize it was the truth laid bare before me.”

“It was,” you replied gently, your voice a quiet promise. “But it is over now.”

“If you had not been here, Jaehaerys would be—” she faltered, her composure cracking as a choked sob escaped her lips.

You could only watch her, sorrow etched upon your face, as she turned away from you and hurried to the crib where Jaehaerys slept, oblivious to the tempest that had transpired around him and his sister. Slowly, she lifted the sleeping boy into her arms, his silver hair catching the light like stars against the night sky. She cradled him tightly, swaying gently as if to soothe not just him, but the remnants of her own grief.

“They almost took my boy,” Helaena murmured, her voice a soft lament, entwined within the strands of Jaehaerys’ hair, as if she sought comfort in his very existence.

Aemond exhaled sharply as he finally approached the entrance of the Blue Pearl, its facade gleaming with a deceptive allure. He paused for a moment, memories swirling like smoke from the incense within—each recollection a weight pressing down upon him, reminding him of the last time he had stepped through these doors.

As he crossed the threshold into the brothel, the atmosphere assaulted his senses: the heady scent of incense mingled with the intoxicating sounds of fervent moans and whispered promises that echoed through the dimly lit chambers. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a collision of desire and desperation.

Maintaining a cold and stoic demeanor, Aemond navigated the labyrinth of shadowy corners and silken drapes, his singular focus on securing a room where you both could retreat from the burdens of the outside world, if only for a fleeting night. Under the enveloping darkness of his hooded cloak, he radiated an aura of menace; others instinctively parted before him, quaking under the weight of his dangerous glare.

However, his composure faltered for just a moment when he felt a delicate hand brush against his arm. A surge of indignation coursed through him, instincts honed to ready his strike against anyone who dared encroach upon his space—anyone, that is, who was not you.

Yet, upon turning, he found himself face to face with the last person he wished to encounter. Madam Sylvi, the proprietor of this establishment, stood before him, her presence a haunting reminder of a past he had sought to forget. She was the first woman to lay claim to him, a forced initiation into a world of shadows that had snatched away his boyhood, all at the insidious urging of his brother. Aemond's heart raced, caught between the clutches of anger and the bitter taste of old wounds that threatened to resurface.

"My Prince," she began, her lips curving into what she believed to be a beguiling smile. To Aemond, however, it appeared more akin to a grimace painted upon her features. "What an unexpected pleasure it is to see you once again in these halls."

Feeling a tide of shame wash over him, he averted his gaze, staring intently at the carved wooden floor beneath his feet. “All I seek is a room,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"And which girl shall I send to warm your bed?" she teased, her tone dripping with seduction. Then, with a coy pause, she added, "Or perhaps you are in need of a woman instead?"

He clenched his jaw, his frustration rising. “Just a room,” he insisted, his voice firm, yet faltering.

She let out a soft, lilting hum, feigning disappointment. “A shame,” she purred, her fingers trailing along his arm—a gesture that made his skin crawl. “But know that my arms are always open, especially for you.”

The urge to retaliate surged within him; he imagined the swift, savage justice he could enact. Yet, he found himself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the memory of their past encounters—memories that danced like shadows in his mind, haunting him still.

Clearing his throat, he risked a glance in her direction, his resolve strengthening. “A Lady will come through your doors. Instruct her where to find me.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding away before she could utter another word.

Not long after, five figures had made their way into Helaena's solar, their presence a stark contrast to the brutality that had enveloped the chamber moments before. A maid, having spotted one of the trespassers who had slipped into the shadows, acted on her apprehension and sought out a guard.

This led to Lord Otto Hightower being summoned, and he, it seemed, was the sole soul present who maintained the decorum expected of his station. He had seized Aegon with the kind of authoritative grip one might use on a mischievous pup caught reveling in intoxication on the Iron Throne, before promptly calling for Lord Larys.

In due course, Queen Alicent and Ser Criston appeared, ostensibly by chance, though you with your keen senses could detect the unmistakable scent of their shared intimacy lingering upon them, a confirmation of their clandestine liaison.

You sat beside Helaena, who cradled Jaehaerys to her chest as if to shield him from the undercurrents of chaos swirling around them. In your arms, you held Jaehaera, both twins blissfully unaware, lost in the serenity of slumber.

“Who dared to do this? I demand to know! Who is responsible?” Aegon's voice erupted, slicing through the stillness with an edge of fury. News of the attempted assassination against his son had ignited the embers of his inebriated stupor into a roaring blaze of rage. You cast him a disapproving glare, a silent rebuke for his outburst, mindful of the slumbering children.

“The man uttered, ‘a son for a son, he said,’ I suspect he was referring to Prince Daemon, Your Grace,” you interjected softly, your voice a steady balm amidst the tumult.

Alicent, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, approached Helaena, settling beside her. She reached out tenderly, her fingers brushing against the peaceful features of sleeping Jaehaerys, you could see how guilt was feasting upon her soul.

"These villains, these traitors," Aegon spat, his words laced with venom. The anguish of nearly losing his heir carved lines of distress into his face, revealing that beneath the hardened exterior, perhaps Aegon did possess a heart capable of love. "My son is my legacy. My son is heir to the iron throne!”

His gaze then turned, sharp and accusatory, to Ser Criston, whose presence loomed in the doorway. "And where were you, Ser Criston? The Lord Commander of my King's Guard slumbers while my blood is threatened?"

You noted how Alicent’s expression tightened with concern as she cast a furtive glance toward Criston, who stared resolutely at the stone floor, his shame palpable. "I was abed, Your Grace, having dispatched orders to the Night's Watch," he replied.

"Abed?" Aegon echoed, incredulity lacing his words. "While your post was to safeguard the sanctity of my family?"

The Hand let out a weary sigh from his position at the periphery of the room. "Calm yourself, Aegon. The prince still lives," he interjected, attempting to quell the rising tide of tension.

"Yes," Aegon yelled, his attention shifting to you, "only because of Lady Mikaelson. A woman! All of you should hang your heads in shame."

You inhaled sharply at Aegon's jab, which he unknowingly let out. Lord Larys, his gaze insidious and lingering, leaned forward with a slithering curiosity. "What I truly wish to understand is how you managed to subdue two fully grown men, my lady."

The weight of every gaze in the room now turned to you, even Aegon momentarily relinquished his tirade to await your reply. You spoke with steady conviction, "I grew up among five brothers, My Lord. The dance of a blade is not foreign to me." Your voice joined the whispers of the past, your eyes glancing at the first man you had killed. "The first was a brute, slow in his approach. The second, however, was a madman, blinded by insanity."

"It matters not how she accomplished it," Aegon interjected, his impatience barely concealed, "The only thing that matters is she saved Jaehaerys' life."

A wave of relief washed over you as the next figure entered Helaena's solar, a dim light spilling in from the hallway. Aemond's gaze instantly locked onto the grim scene before him, his single eye widening as it fell upon the two lifeless bodies, bloodied and sprawled across the elegant stone floor. “What has happened here?” he demanded.

Aegon's temper flared like wildfire at the sight, stepping forward to confront Aemond, but the latter remained unruffled, his expression a picture of cool composure amidst the turmoil. “And where were you, while my son lay nearly murdered in his own bed?”

“On patrol, brother,” Aemond replied, his tone smooth and casual, though the lie dripped with an unsettling ease. His eyes then landed on you, his brow furrowing as concern flickered across his striking features. Ignoring Aegon entirely, he approached you, noting the streaks of crimson marring your skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.

As his hand reached towards your face, you instinctively recoiled, acutely aware of the watchful eyes surrounding you both. “It is not my blood, Your Highness,” you assured him.

Aegon's voice roared again, filling the solar like a tempest. “What course shall we take now? How do we retaliate?” His frustration echoed off the walls.

You could hear Otto Hightower’s resigned sigh. “This is not a moment for rash vengeance, Aegon. Perhaps there is some good may yet come of this.”

“I will not be seen as weak,” Aegon ground out, determination hardening his features.

“You’re already seen as weak, Aegon,” Otto replied with cold clarity, counting off each grim incident, “A hasty coronation, a dragon escaping the pit. The people see an omen. They whisper in the streets. They say, perhaps Rhaenyra should be queen.”

"Let us thus feign that the deed is done, that her assassination was successful." He paused, his keen gaze settling upon the slumbering form of little Jaehaerys. “You would name her: monster. Slayer of infants. I would do more than that—a funeral procession. We shall construct a small casket for Jaehaerys and let the realm gaze upon the handiwork of this pretender who seeks the crown.”

“Your grand design has a singular flaw, Grandsire,” Aegon spat, stepping protectively in front of Helaena and the sleeping child, his posture defiant. “Jaehaerys lives. His existence cannot be kept hidden within these stone walls; word of his survival will soon seep through the cracks.”

“Not if we send him away—this very night,” Otto replied, his voice resolute, a calculated glint igniting his gaze.

“No,” Helaena murmured, instinctively tightening her embrace around Jaehaerys, as if her warmth alone could shield him from danger.

“No!” Aegon echoed, his tone thunderous compared to Helaena’s whisper. “It is far too dangerous for him beyond these castle walls.”

“And yet,” Lord Hightower replied, his tone sharp as a dagger, “he came dangerously close to death even within them.”

“Then where shall he go?” Alicent broke her silence, her voice carrying the weight of desperation.

The Lord Hand fell silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation, before his keen gaze shifted toward you. “Lady Mikaelson,” he began, a shrewd glint of ambition glimmering in his eyes, “your family resides in the Reach, do they not?”

"Indeed, Lord Hand," you replied smoothly, a lie slipping from your lips with practiced ease. You anticipated his intentions even before he continued. "We lie just beyond Golden Grove."

“Ah, that lies near Highgarden,” Otto mused, his mind racing with possibilities before breaking the stillness of the room, “The Tyrells have pledged neutrality, rendering it one of the scant havens in all of Westeros. Thus, it is decided: Jaehaerys shall journey there with Lady Mikaelson tonight. She has protected Jaehaerys once and now she will do so again.”

Aegon, his fingers brushing through Jaehaerys's soft curls as he rested, sighed in reluctant agreement. "Very well, but I demand that half of the White Cloaks accompany them."

Otto scoffed derisively, shaking his head. "No, such a show of force would raise too many suspicions. We can spare only two, perhaps four at the most."

"It would be swifter and safer by dragonback," Aemond interjected, his voice threading through the tension in the room. You turned to meet his gaze, which seemed to be focused only on you, "I can take Lady Mikaelson and Jaehaerys upon Vhagar."

Otto Hightower’s brow furrowed in disapproval. "That would be far too conspicuous."

“Then I shall accompany them,” Aemond asserted, his determination hardening like steel.

"No," Aegon countered firmly, his tone brooking no dissent. "We need you here."

Before Aemond could mount another argument, you rose from your seat, gently moving the sleeping Jaehaera into Alicent's waiting arms. Your voice rang out, steady and resolute amidst the rising tempests of conflict. “It is alright," you spoke clearly, “I will go.”

If Aemond ever met the Mikaelsons...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #the originals #mikaelson #ewan mitchell #vampire!reader

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