#I was getting major My Happy Marriage vibes

[thepenultimateword]

The Worst Kind of Medal

The war had left more scars on the nation than it had Umbra’s body, so she wasn’t surprised that the airship came in 6 hours later than the schedule had claimed. She was more surprised that she was still standing on the platform, bold-lettered sign locked in her fists at either corner, when it arrived. No one had told her she needed to be at the port when Prince Waylon arrived in Graybourne, only that he was to be her lifelong charge forever after. She probably should have left a soldier here in her place and enjoyed her last few hours of freedom at home.

A bit of guilt pricked her insides. That was unfair. No one had forced her into this marriage arrangement. She’d accepted it–maybe only for the promises that came along with it, but still an acceptance. If she was uncomfortable now, it was her fault.

Several men leaped from the ship deck, ropes coiled under their arms. They rushed to knot the tethers to the docking posts as their feet touched the ground. It was complicated to get a ship back in the air once grounded, so most docks were constructed on cliff faces or in Greybourne’s case on towers. This allowed the ship to remain airborne yet steady for boarding and exiting; the same went for inspections and refueling. The only real reason for a ship to land was in case of major repairs.

The plank dropped, and a surge of people rushed onto the platform. Umbra scanned the crowd, with rapid scrutiny. She wished she’d asked for a photograph of her potential husband before the royal family shipped him here. The monarch probably wouldn’t grant her another reward if she lost him on the very first day. 

“Ser Umbra!”

Her gaze shot to the deck where a man with long silvery hair braided crownlike around his forehead and then draped loosely over one shoulder waved over the crowd. Another man, hair-slicked and face creased with a long-suffering frown, reached out to grab him, but the prince was already bounding down the plank. He was more petite than she had expected, his head bobbing in and out of sight as he weaved clumsily through the crowd, bumping shoulders every few steps. As he darted around the last mozying couple, he nearly barreled straight into her chest, but he managed to catch himself just short, tipping up onto his toes in the process.

“Ser Umbra,” he repeated, panting up at her with a broad smile. “I-it’s really you! You came yourself! I really wasn’t expecting to see you straight off the ship! Ryann told me I probably wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning because of your duties!”

Umbra blinked at him. Her heart felt like it had been seized and clutched hard in her chest.

She’d wondered why the King had suggested Prince Waylon as her groom. It had seemed a very quick choice. She’d figured it was because he was fifth in line for the throne—the royal family wouldn’t marry a soldier to someone who could one day take the crown, no matter how much she’d done for her country. Now, looking at his peeking canines, golden eyes, and long, curling tail, it was abundantly clear this had been a careful act of strategy.

King Esmond had never been shy about taking wives, and as a result, many of his children came from foreign royalty, a way of securing many alliances at once. Not so with the Auskeran princess. Umbra had not yet been born when the marriage took place, but everyone knew that was where the tensions between the two countries had started. With the princess's death.

But now, with the war ended and Auskeran firmly independent from the rest of the world, no foreign alliances were waiting for a half-Auskerian prince. And keeping him around the capital was a liability in itself. His very appearance was a reminder of the recent horrors and a symbol of shame to the King. But he was still of royal blood, and banishments–no matter how merciful–had a habit of coming back to bite. So what did they do? They gave him to a local. Someone high enough to merit such a match but low enough that she couldn’t refuse. Someone who would take all the perks of having a royal spouse as appeasement for the inconvenience of his half-bloodedness.

Still, they had to have known her feelings about such a thing. The war had not ended so many months ago that an Auskerian, even half of one, didn’t bother her. Perhaps that was the very reason they’d said nothing. They wouldn’t want to risk her denial.

“How did you know what I look like?” Umbra said, forcing her clenched jaw apart. He’d picked her out from the crowd on sight. He couldn’t have seen the sign from that distance, could he?

The prince flushed a little. “Father showed me a photograph of the Greybourne division as soon as he told me about the marriage arrangement. He said you’re a general of high standing. You held the eastern front steady for two years before scouting over the border. You won us the war practically singlehanded!” 

Umbra was about to explain that it was far more complex than that but Prince Waylon carried on without pause. 

“And to think, of all the prestigious matches you could have received, Father chose me! I’ve been showing that photo to everyone for the last month! But it got sort of crumpled from carrying it around too much, so my sister painted your portrait for me as a wedding gift. See?” 

He pried open the locket around his neck and leaned forward to show her a very accurate, stoic miniature of her own face. She was dressed in her military uniform, her medal of honor–a medal that she’d really only worn twice, once when it was bestowed and again for a newspaper photo–pinned bold and gleaming to her chest.

 “She made one for you too, here!” He fished into his breast pocket and held out a matching bronze locket by its chain. 

Umbra watched it swing for a couple moments before she tentatively accepted it. “I, um…” He was staring at her so expectantly what was she supposed to do? She slipped the chain over her head, and the locket settled in the hollow of her chest. “Thank you.”

He continued to stare. Gaze flicking to the locket and back to her face again. He definitely wasn’t subtle. 

She picked open the latch and looked vaguely at the companion miniature. “Ah.”

It wasn’t much of a reaction but the prince immediately pounced on it.

“I hope it's ok. I wanted it to be more interesting or at least be smiling, but Isabeau said portraits are supposed to be serious. I’m lucky she let me be as expressive as that.”

“No, no, it’s very nice,” Umbra said. Lied. She hadn’t even noticed whether the portrait had been straight-faced or smiling. She should probably be more excited, or at least appreciative. Princess Isabeau was supposedly a real artistic talent—from the accuracy of her own portrait she had to agree—and her skill mixed with her status, made her paintings some of the most saught after in the kingdom. Now she had one around her neck and she couldn’t even give it a proper enough to look to give a specific detail of praise.

Luckily, Prince Waylon took her words at face value. He noticeably relaxed, and she snapped the locket shut again.

“Prince Waylon!” The other man from the ship shoved out from the crowd, a little more disheveled than he’d been moments ago and lugging two large suitcases. He let the cases drop heavily to the planks and tugged sharply on the ends of his black suit. “A member of the royal family does not fly off like that! You must conduct yourself with decorum! And that means staying with your escort!”

“I was with Ser Umbra, so it was fine,” Prince Waylon said.

The man’s attention flicked toward her, scanning her up and down with an unimpressed expression. As an employee to the royal family why would he be? 

“This is Ryann, my escort to Greybourne,” Prince Waylon said. “He’s supposed to return to Ashborough once he sees me settled.  

“Ser,” Ryann said with a short bow. “Unfortunately, the royal officiant was delayed, so the wedding will have to be postponed at least a couple weeks. I’m to stay until that point to be another witness.”

Great. The last thing she wanted was time to start overthinking things. She’d wanted this done as quickly as possible. And now, with the prince’s Auskerian features to unsettle her, she wanted it done even faster.

“You both must be tired,” she said, hefting up one of the suitcases. “My car is at the base of the tower. I’ll take you to the house so you can rest.”

“Oh, I’m not that tired–” Waylon began

“You drive?” Ryann interrupted as he grabbed the remaining case. “You don’t have a chauffeur?”

“I have drivers,” Umbra clarified. “For shopping and other errands. I simply prefer the autonomy of driving myself. Don’t worry, I don’t expect Prince Waylon to get along without a chauffeur.”

“Oh, maybe I could learn too?”

“Absolutely not,” Ryann snapped. “You’ll get yourself killed. Besides, who ever heard of royalty driving themselves? You’re not one of the working class.”

Umbra started down the first tower ramp, letting them fall into step beside her. Should she say something? Tell the prince he could try driving if he liked? But her drivers didn’t have time to keep an eye on him and she hadn’t planned on engaging in any extra responsibilities. She also didn’t think there was much point in ruffling the escort further. So she remained quiet.

Prince Waylon didn’t seem to take the denial too hard. He chatted a bit on the way down, pointing out the landscape and buildings as they went. Umbra nodded along, but didn’t listen much; she was more focused on the many glances the prince received from passersby, ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Ryann must have been aware as well because he kept a protective hand on the prince’s arm the entire way down.

The car waited at the curb for them. A sleek green thing with three steam valves that she’d purchased shortly after the war’s end. It was easier traveling back and forth to the military headquarters this way.

“Here we are.” Umbra popped the door to the trunk, putting away the first suitcase and then taking the second from Ryann.

The escort dusted off his hands, as if the meanialness of the task were a visible smudge on his station. He then stepped back to survey the car’s body. “This is a handsome vehicle.”

 Umbra expected it was one of the only words of praise she was going to receive during his stay, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to use it to her advantage. “It does the job.”

 “Ser Umbra, can I sit up front with you?” Prince Waylon chirped from the side.

“You’re not going to address me as Ser Umbra our entire marriage, are you?”

His face washed a hot pink. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”

“You’re not a part of my regiment. Umbra is fine.”

“Then I’m just Waylon.” He smiled. A sweet, bright-eyed expression that made Umbra’s insides churn like someone was trying to turn them inside out. The officator had better get there fast.

She nodded curtly and circled around to the passenger door, holding it for him as he picked up the ends of his traveling cloak and slid inside. As she closed it behind him, she caught a glimpse of Ryann’s expression before he entered the backseat. Silent approval. Seemed she’d passed whatever test the employee had in mind for vehicle etiquette. She wasn’t look forward to any similar tests. Her rise in the military had granted her a title and a fortune, but she certainly could claim to be as well-bred as anyone in the royal court. Which for many was a sin in itself. 

The drive from the port to her small estate lasted only 20 minutes and was mainly quiet. Waylon ooed at every street and building they passed. Umbra couldn’t imagine anything here in Greybourne, a city on the very edge of the kingdom, could surpass Ashborough in all its capital glory. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. However, as they pulled up the lane to the estate, his nose was almost pressed to the glass.

“It’s beautiful!”

Now Umbra knew he was being polite. The estate was a sturdy, grey-stoned building with two stories and several acres of surrounding meadow. A garage hid humbly and strategically around the back so as not to ruin the aesthetic view of the front or boast the ownership of two cars. It may have been larger than many of the other homes in Graybourne, and yes, it was rather pretty in the golden hour of evening, but it was nothing compared to the manors in Ashborough let alone the palace. Umbra had been dragged into several parties and ceremonies in the capital after the war’s official end, and extravagant was an understatement.

Waylon clutched his locket and mumbled under his breath. “It’s like a dream.”

A dream? What did princes have to dream about?

Umbra circled the drive and parked directly in front of the large oak front doors. Arlin and Madeline must have been watching from inside–she was impressed they stayed at the ready for the entire 6 hours she had been gone–because they rushed out the front the moment she stepped out of the vehicle. 

Arlin opened the passenger door before Umbra could make her way fully around, but to his credit, his surprise only lasted a moment. Raised eyebrows shot back down, parted lips promptly pinned shut, and he bowed his head as Waylon stepped down to the gravel drive. 

“Your majesty,” Arlin said, then moved on to Ryann’s door.

In the meantime, Madeline had made quick work of unloading the luggage. The bags seemed oversized compared to her small frame, but she showed no struggle as she carried them around. Her reaction to the prince showed more in an exchange of glances with Arlin than a change of expression. 

“Welcome back, Miss,” she said, “we were beginning to worry something had gone wrong.”

“Just a slight delay in the ship’s arrival,” Umbra said, passing the car keys to Arlin, who promptly took the car around to the garage. “Madeline, will you show the prince and his escort to their rooms? They’ve had a long trip, and it’s getting late.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll let Henrietta and the others know that dinner will be served in the guests’ rooms tonight.”

“Thank you. Only tea for me tonight. Please have it brought to my office.” She didn’t think she could stomach anything else tonight. Maybe a cup of tea would settle some of her more turbulent emotions.

“Oh, Ser– I mean, Umbra,” Waylon said, the end of his tail flicking eagerly. “I’m really not tired, and I’d love to see more of the estate, and talk to you more. Maybe we can go for a walk–that meadow back there looks promising–and I can tell you–”

“My prince,” Ryann said firmly. The prince jolted, looking at Ryann with wide eyes. The escort gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Waylon looked down at the gravel, ears going slightly pink. “My apologies Ser Umbra. I overexcited.”

Oh no, she needed to say something didn’t she? Something smart and smooth that saved the prince’s feelings without backing down from her preference for a quiet night. She hated hosting. She especially the politics that came with it.

“I’d be happy to show you around the grounds tomorrow,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “The sun is about to go down soon and the view can’t be appreciated so well in the dark. Besides the meadow is riddled with rabbit holes; I wouldn’t want you to misstep and break an ankle.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyes toward her. Luminescence crept in at the corners. Once the sun had gone completely down, those eyes would be completely aglow. “That would be unfortunate. I…look forward to tomorrow then.” It was hard to read whether he believed her. His gaze showed some relief, but the wrap of his tail around his leg still spoke to some embarrassment. Nevertheless, some of his old exuberance slipped through the cracks in his politeness. “It was a joy–no, an honor–to begin making your acquaintance.” 

Umbra forced eye contact until he turned away, prompted toward the house by Madeline’s beckoning. A cold feeling had lodged itself in the middle of her chest. 

She hoped the officiator would come fast.

[fangel]

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader

synopsis ⦂ au in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.

genre ⦂ smut, slow burn romance, strangers to lovers word count ⦂ 29k tags ⦂ fluff and angst, repressed desires, innocence loss, guilt and shame, exploring relationships, falling in love, southern gothic vibes, summer au, clingy down bad sunghoon, ‘mean’ morally gray reader, both are weirdo loser freaks content advisory ⦂ mdni ! dark-ish content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content in four scenes: handjob, oral (m. rec.), dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption!kink, degradation!kink, praise!kink, switch!hoon, he whines whimpers and cries; religious themes, concepts, corruption, and criticism; manipulation, animal death, blood, intense scenes, abusive parenting, gun mention and use

note ⦂ poured my heart out. i hope you love it as much as i do. dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls┊reblogs and feedback encouraged ⇀ playlist ⸝⸝ masterlist 🌾

　You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. Two gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count. 

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and lovely farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed. 

You were positive that it was something they wanted. 

But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.

The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving. 

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault. 

Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season. 

He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd. 

If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier. 

While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation. 

Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.

Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile. 

Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others. 

Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”

Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did. 

Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love. 

On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced. 

At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human. 

So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery. 

He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose. 

In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter. 

“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”

A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language. 

You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you. 

But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old sheep on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected. 

Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.

You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you. 

　But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home. 

And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day. 

The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns. 

Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month? 

You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child. 

You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance. 

He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying. 

He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning. 

He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think. 

The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later. 

You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland. 

It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way. 

This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought. 

It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug. 

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go. 

Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass. 

In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Like a graveyard to all your bad doings. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.

An old sheep hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are. 

“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque. 

You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent. 

You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs, sheeps. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist. 

“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property. 

“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too. 

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner. 

He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.” 

Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways. 

You stand there, drenching in the its blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.

You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack. 

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt. 

You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away. 

Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick. 

You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb. 

You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already. 

You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.

It’s safe to have a little fun. 

You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her. 

You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over. 

Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why. 

Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation. 

They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop. 

At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him. 

You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended. 

You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face. 

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too. 

He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene. 

He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk. 

Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf. 

　Sunghoon’s first day of his summer job starts off duller than he imagined. The sun isn’t out this morning and it only intensifies his anxiousness, as if the grey skies reflect his inner emotions. He’s already new to the area, away from home and staying in an apartment not far from his college in the city. A private, christian school that he studied hard to get into with his friend. He wishes his best friend and roommate, Jake, was joining him in this job, but Jake already had plans to teach at a summer soccer camp for kids through their school. 

He found this opportunity through the college church they attend together. A reverend from another church in the city came to visit one Sunday, handing out flyers to the young men in hopes of finding farm help. The pay is good and the bus fairs to the small town over where the farm’s located is covered. He’s never done work like it before, nevertheless was he going to let a simple offer pass him up. 

Things are going smoothly to start, being told how to care for, clean, and feed the animals to crop preservation. Everyone would have their own specific roles on the farm. Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops. He learns there are already regular farm workers that would come throughout the week to collect produce, material, and use the machinery for the more laborious work. And if she wasn't around when needed then they could ask any of the regular employees for assistance or find her at the house. 

As the farm owner is about to give details on the horses’ maintenance, a girl saunters in. And the anxious feelings become of Sunghoon all over again. His eyes are wide, taking in her appearance. The smell of the farm dissipates and putrid copper takes over. The worst part is how calm she appears, and the fact that she’s unbothered with all that she wears. 

He thinks his brain short circuits, everything seeming muffled and unreal. He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp. 

He watches as she walks away, back to the house that sits slightly over the hills and valleys of the property. His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too. 

“Don’t pay her no mind,” the woman speaks up, she sounds as if she’s warning them. “Just get yer work done and when everyone’s finished y’all can head back home. I won’t ask too much of ya in yer first month here, alright? That might be a different story later.” She tries to end the statements in humor with her forced laugh. 

Sunghoon nods but his eyes don’t leave his dirty hand. The other men nod along too and give their ‘yes, ma’ams’ in return. 

The woman continues walking them around the farm, listing rules and guidelines they must follow, along with advice and tips for the work they’ll be doing. 

The day flows as easy as it can for Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much with the other farmhands. He also doesn’t know them well enough to be comfortable in their conversations, so he just exists in awkward silence, sometimes reacting. While they can joke around and find fun in the work, his mind keeps wandering off to the girl from earlier, to you. How your empty eyes held onto his and small hand even tighter. He thinks the palm of his hand still burns from the interaction. 

Around the afternoon time, Sunghoon and the guys are sitting around a picnic table near the house. The sun is beating down on them all now while they chug down water and eat their lunch. The owner was kind enough to provide their refreshments and meals. They were all thankful. 

She adds that there’s a small lodge up the dirt road. It’s a little old but homey and has space with two spare bedrooms if they need to wash up or rest at any time. It was originally built for the farm workers that worked late and needed a place to stay if need be. 

Once done, the boys stand up and talk about what they have left to do. The next bus back to the city isn’t running for another two hours so they speak of taking some leisure time and exploring the farm property. Meanwhile Sunghoon is still sitting, watching them huddled in conversation. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as they begin walking towards the fields.

Sunghoon, taking what the farm owner had mentioned previously, decides that he’d like to stay inside to get away from the beating sun for a while. So he gathers his trash to throw away in the bin by the road near the house’s mailbox and begins his walk to the lodge. 

Once inside he takes in the rustic, outdated furniture. It’s a little dusty and the floorboards creak beneath his feet but he finds it somewhat comforting. The living space has two couches by an old stone fireplace, a center table with board games and cards, a kitchenette, and a large dining table with enough space to seat six people. 

The decor is very farmers-life-esque. From a cow print rug in the small kitchen area to the antlers mounted on the wall near the dining table. There’s scenic southern paintings hung up along with antique crosses and prints of bible verses, all adoring the faded and peeling floral wallpaper. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man. 

He walks down the only short hall in the lodge to find the two spare bedrooms the woman had mentioned along with a bathroom. He takes this time to wash his hands thoroughly and splash some cold water on his face. With his hands resting on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. The cold drops of water slip down his face, jaw, and back into the sink. 

In his mind he’s questioning whether or not he’s sure of this job. It’s all too different from what he knows and he can’t help but feel out of place here. With a sigh, he drops his head and watches the water slip down the sink. 

He jumps slightly at the sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, not expecting the others to join him here quite yet. No noise follows the action for a moment, not even footsteps. Then there’s the sound of a click, like the door is being locked. He straightens his posture and peaks out the bathroom door, listening for their voices or any sound other than silence. It offers nothing to him so he begins to feel tense. 

“Hello?” Sunghoon calls out skittishly, but there’s no response. His heart rate picks up a little and he starts to think the boys are trying to pull some sort of childish prank on him. He leaves the room and makes slow steps down the hallway to the main area of the lodging house. 

As he rounds the corner he doesn’t find any of the boys there though, he just sees you. His heart jumps at the realization. Sitting on the couch, in overall shorts and nothing else. Bare legs crossed and hands against the couch by your sides as you watch him peer around the corner with apprehension. You’re�� just sitting there, leaning forward and waiting for him to come find you. 

Cowardly, Sunghoon makes a half turn. He presses his back against the wall of the hallway as if he could hide away or disappear into it. He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance. 

“Are you pretending to be shy or are you really this cute?” Your voice is teasing, and he can hear the wicked smile in it without seeing. 

Feeling caught, he just sighs and slowly makes his way to the living area. He tries not to look at you, thinking you are too revealing. So he looks everywhere else and then to large windows that give view to the farm; none of the guys are in sight. Most likely somewhere goofing off. All he can see is the fields and farm buildings standing large in the distance. 

He doesn’t move and speaks softly, “I should probably go find the others-”

You speak before he can finish his attempt of an excuse, “Come sit with me.” You pat the space on the couch next to yourself. Your voice sounds welcoming but he knows there’s an undertone of mischief. 

He makes a quick glance to you and sucks in a breath at the view of your body that’s exposed from your overalls. The glimpse of the curve of your breast disappearing under the denim already makes him feel like he’s seen too much of you. And he has. He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either. 

“Come sit with me, now.” You’re more stern this time, demanding in a gentle way. Your hand makes small movements, soothing over the material of the couch like you’re warming the space for him. 

He visibly swallows as he makes his hesitant steps over to you. His heart is racing and with every beat there is a question of his strength. He sits down on the same sofa but not directly next to you like you want. You smirk nonetheless and turn to face him, sitting with your legs criss-cross now. 

With your elbows to your knees you hold your head in your hands, watching the side of his face. You’re again realizing how sculpted his features are. Dark thick hair on his head, eyebrows and lashes too. An array of moles sprinkle his pale face. A sharp nose that sits above pink, full lips. You wonder if he knows of his own beauty. It’s fascinating to see such a person like him in front of you. 

He’s sitting with perfect posture, not relaxing into the couch. Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away. His eyes just watch the table, reading through the names of the board games that lay there as a way of distracting himself. He’s awkward. 

“Uhm… d-does your family own this farm?” he tries for small talk to break the silence. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he makes one quick look over to you. Luckily your overalls sit high up or he’d have a full view of your chest. He can’t help but think of the fact and it makes him shift uncomfortably. 

“Do I make you nervous?” you question, seriously so. Brows pulled tight in a furrow with a straight face. You lean in even closer to him, watching for every change on his face. 

“Yes,” his response is honestly quick and ends with a tight lip, like he’s holding his breath. He is yet to comprehend what is happening, still in a whirlwind of thoughts of what could—will—happen. 

“Why?” Your head tilts slightly to the side, it makes him think of his roommate briefly. And man does he wish he were here to ease the tension. 

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never been in such close proximity with a girl alone before, so he just clears his throat and remains quiet after doing so. 

Curiously, you bring a hand up with a pointed finger and brush the tip of it over the mole on the side of his nose. He jolts back at the sudden touch, his cheeks flushing a warm pink. His eyes now watch you with gentle confusion. He touches the same spot you did with a trembling hand. 

“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?” 

His face burns a little more, both from the observation and the question. He shakes his head, sitting himself further into the couch and further away from you. He can’t quite understand the situation. Are you messing with him? You seem too serious for such. Maybe you’re just weird like he initially thought. Either way he can feel his faith slipping; he is cupping holy water in hands during an earthquake. 

“Did I do somethin’ wrong? Am I not pretty?” You pout to be playful with him, acting as if his actions are offending you. He takes it literally though. 

“No!” his hands rest on his knees and he holds them hard, trying to find stability despite sitting down. “Y-you are… pretty,” his words grow quieter, like he’s sharing a secret. “I just don’t know you or why you want to talk to me.” 

“Hm.” You lean your head back against the couch. With your eyes still on his face, you speak just as quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.” After some beats of muted air you speak up again, but with more presence, “You came to work here. Why?” 

“A man was handing out flyer ads at the church. I wanted a summer job.” 

Is he always this direct and boring? And church, of fucking course. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the back cushion and even closer to the man. Your knees touch the side of his body and his thigh. He looks like he’s trying to control his breathing, to feign lack of disturbance, but his face says everything you need to know. 

You place a hand on his thigh and his whole body stiffens at the action. Your smirk to yourself. It’s only resting there on the top of his jeans. “You act like a girl has never touched you before.” You give him a soft squeeze and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Well? Has a girl ever touched you?” 

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he breaks, feeling overwhelmed and wrong, “and I don’t think you should be. It’s against the churches values-”

“At your age you still follow the rules?” Your hand slides lower and back up his thigh, it’s a slow and teasing motion. There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming. 

Sunghoon knows that this is only going to lead him down a path he swore to God not to take. And if his parents were to know that in his first year away from home in the summer since college was locked in a lodge with a promiscuous girl he’d have it handed to him. The thought of their wrath makes him shiver all the more. 

“I just don’t want to sin.” His eyes close and he bites down onto his lip again. He no longer cares if a stranger sees him as a loser or prude. His virtue is being tested in real time, and he’s feared facing this battle many times in the night because even in his dreams he loses. 

“I’m only touching you. How is it a sin?” The tone of your voice changes, it’s soft like the hand that moves closer to in between his thighs. Your fingertips press into his clothed skin here and there, curiously feeling him up. You just try to get a reaction out of him. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach that you don’t recognize; it’s faintly familiar. 

“Your hand isn’t supposed to be… there.” He makes a strained sound, something like a low whine, as your hand ghosts over his cock. 

You look down to your movements for the first time and realize he’s sporting a half chub. You snicker quietly, cupping him in your palm. “Then why are you getting hard, Sunghoon? Do you like the way I’m touching you? I bet you’ve thought about doing this before too.” 

He makes another noise, a whimper. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes and accept what’s happening. He also can’t find it in himself to stop you, or get up and leave. This wasn’t just a struggle with evil’s temptation but his own biological nature. Something yet to be explored, something that’s been scratching at his ribcage for years to be fed. 

There’s too much he can’t admit in this moment. Starting with how he enjoys the sound of your voice, the slight accent and dialect difference he picks up. How the way his name leaves your lips makes him want to crumble like a burning church. And how he silently likes the fact he can’t control the way his body is reacting to your hands on him. 

It’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is weak.

“Answer me, Sunghoon.” Your hand presses down on him, feeling the growing hardness under your palm. You give him a small squeeze, massaging over the bulge. To your surprise he feels big. Your eyebrows quirk at this and then you look back to his face. A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. “Lying is a sin too,” you remind him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hands fist the couch cushions at his sides. He grips the material so tight that his knuckles turn pink through the pale of his skin. His chest rises and falls through slow and deep breaths. 

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for something that makes you feel good.” You palm over him a few more times, drawing out little moans and whimpers from him. He’s struggling to sit still. You can even feel him try not to push his hips back up into you; if only he would admit that he wants it. He’s practically pulsing beneath you, like there’s never been such a rush of blood to his cock in his life. You sigh dramatically and pull your hand away from him, sitting back to give him space. “That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”

His eyes shoot open when he feels your hand is gone. He looks at you desperately with wet eyes, a small pout to his lips. You make him feel sick for wanting to ask why you stopped, or if he did something bad for you to take away his short-lived pleasure. 

You smirk at his expression, so pitifully beautiful with want. “Have you ever touched yourself?” you ask, placing your hand over his that hasn’t let go of the couch. It takes you back when he flips his hand around to hold onto yours, clingy and wretched. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Repulsed, you react quickly and take your hand away from him at his impulsive intimacy. It makes him frown with a meek whimper. 

He shakes his head slowly, looking down to his lap. “I can’t.” He knows he’s not allowed to. His father was adamant through his puberty that he mustn’t succumb to his body’s natural taste for sin. He was told that sometimes the devil had a funny way of sneaking into a man’s mind. That Satan would haunt boys in their sleep to wake them up with guilt of uncontrollable lust to be like him. 

“But you like when I do it, right?” You rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. His eyes look from your face to the thin opening of your overalls where your chest can be seen from the angle. He bites down hard and nods slowly. You coo, moving your hand back to his still hard, clothed cock. “I can make it go away if you want. You want that?” 

He’s battling all the repressed things he’s been too afraid to explore; fearful of the swing of his parents belt he felt once long ago after being caught in a misunderstanding. In spite of it, he nods again. “It hurts.. Please, help me.” His voice is so quiet. Even he doesn’t want to hear his own pathetic begging. 

Your fingers find the zipper of his jeans then you tug it down slowly as you stare at him. “You have to pull them down for me, okay? I can’t help you with just this.”

Sunghoon freezes for a second knowing he has control over being the one to take out his own cock. Yet apprehension leaves in a breath. Then he’s pulling the clothing down to his knees with frantic haste. You didn’t expect him to take everything off so fast but there’s a sense of pride in how eager you’ve made him become in such a short time. 

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. His cock is as beautiful as him. Pale and raging pink, crying at the tip much like his eyes. He’s also big, bigger than you knew dicks could be. You thought they’d be ugly, gross and worm-like. But his is clean and pretty. It’s your first time seeing one in person; you wouldn’t let him know that. 

You take him bare in your hands, feeling him like a foreign object. More curious of his body than in his pleasure in the moment. His body tenses then relaxes against the couch. A shaky, breathy moan leaves his lips. His eyes flutter at the contact of skin. 

You squeeze him, making his moan weakly again. It’s heavy in your hand. Truly just a stick of warm flesh. A part of you wants to squeeze him as hard as you can just to see if it can break, but you withhold on hurting him for now. Not wanting to scare him too much in hopes of exploring him further through the summer. 

Your hand wraps around the length as much as it can, pads of fingertips brushing over every vein and curve as you slowly move your hand up and down. When your thumb circles around his tip and flicks the leaking hole, his body lurches forward with a loud cry of a moan from him. You wonder if he’ll cum in the next few seconds of simply touching him. 

“I think you’re a slut for a little pleasure, Sunghoon.” You use your palm to gather his precum, circling over the tip to smear the thick cream around. Then you drag it back down himself, wetting his cock in his own prerelease. It slides easier now, your hand. You move faster, jerking him off in lazy, inexperienced motions. Not that he would know anyways. “You gave into lust so easily, didn’t you? Must’ve wanted this for so long. Your body’s nasty, eager for it.”

In his ears, you make the nasty words sound delicious. And he wants to devour more and more, like the starved man he is. His hips snap up into your hard, sudden and rough. You wrap your free arm over his shoulders, a hand sneaking up into his hair to tug aggressively on the thick dark locks. You’re pulling his head back, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be a whore. I’m helping you. I didn’t say fuck my hand.” 

“Ahsh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whines, tears burning his eyes, “it, it f-feels good. I feel so good.” His head falls to lean against yours, face burying into your hair. His head makes little shakes as he begins to cry, telling himself no, no. 

“Shut up...” You don’t like how close he is to you. You only like doing so to tease him, but when he does it, it makes you feel a fiery anger in your chest and belly. Uncomfortable. Smothering.

Your hand works in sloppy motions. Pumping his pulsing cock to reach his orgasm. At the tip your wrist makes flicks with your thumb, working him up further and further. 

He stutters out incoherent apologies into your hair throughout his sobs of wanton, whimpering moans. Everything about his body is sensitive to the new sensations. He can’t help but move his hips up into your hand, humping the small fist that’s fucking down onto him. 

Confused by the warm, tight feeling flexing of his abdomen he whines against you, “I can’t- I can’t take it. My body feels weird now. Mmph, ‘m sorry. I don’t know what’s h-happening.” His body feels volcanic, ready to burst. 

You continue your movements, jerking his reflexing length until he’s cumming into your hand. It’s a heavy load of thick, creamy mess. His voice is too close to your ear as he moans a drawn out needy sound. Your face remains plain while you pump him until he’s milked dry. His body flinches and curls into yours through the aftershocks, clearly overstimulated and over-sensitive. His arms snake around your waist to pull you against him.  

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. Without thinking you bring your hand up and lick the strange release. Your face scowls at the unknown taste so you just wipe the rest on your overalls. “You are disgusting,” you mutter. 

Sunghoon remains silent aside from his sniffles, eyes peeking through his bangs to watch what you’re doing. He still hasn’t stopped clinging to your side, as if you could save him from his first lustful sin. 

You push yourself up and off the couch, his body slightly falls to the side where he was leaning on you but he catches himself. He watches you with sad, scared eyes. You stare blankly in return then look out the window to see the group of men walking around the picnic table they ate at earlier. 

“Farmhands will be leaving soon. Clean yourself up in the bathroom.” You don’t spare him another look, you just walk to the front door, unlock it, and leave. You ignore the way he looked like a sad abandoned puppy. Something about it angered you in the same way he was being clingy. 

You walk back to your house with a slight skip to your steps. As you step through your front door, you’re about to head upstairs to your room but stop in your tracks because your mother speaks.

“Hate him all ya want,” your mothers words slur, she speaks slowly and tired-like, “but he was a good man. He used to love me… And then you came along.” You turn to the living room on your left where your mother lays on the couch, wine glass in hand and eyes heavy lidded. “I know what yer capable of. I’ve seen the things ya do on this farm, in this home.. When ya think no one is watching.. He just might be right about you.” You glare at her now. “There is something evil in ya, child. Leave that boy outta yer wickedness.” 

Her wine glass falls to the floor from her fingers and she groans, turning to her side. You stare at her for a moment before walking up to your room. 

Meanwhile Sunghoon spends his next 20 minutes in a spiral of guilt and shame. He cleans himself up in the restroom like you told him to. Then waits, watching outside the window for when the boys are gathered around the truck they drove in from the bus stop to leave in. It was hard for him to get the tears to end. He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- No, it only made him feel hurt. Stupid. Bad. 

On his bus ride back into the city he prays. Sitting in back, alone with his indignity, and head bowed low so no one could see his red rimmed, glossy eyes. Time goes by so fast that he nearly misses his stop to get off. 

He ignores his roommate when he’s home. Jake, excited and curious of Sunghoon’s first day, is left cold. Sunghoon showers for longer than usual. He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes. He doesn’t eat dinner because he feels he doesn’t deserve to. He gets into bed earlier than most days too. He tries to sleep but the day haunts him, keeping him awake. 

He’s up all night in tears, face in his pillow with the blanket thrown over his head, trying to hide from He who watches. The begs of forgiveness seem endless. 

“Dear God,” he whimpers, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He doesn’t sleep much that night because he can’t find it in himself to stop humping into his mattress in hopes to chase and achieve the feeling you gave him earlier. His hips rock his aching hard cock into the bed, anguished yet titillated. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again. 

　The next day on the farm is an early morning for everyone. Sunghoon sits quietly in the truck with the other summer volunteer farmharms. They talk amongst each other about the day’s schedule of duties and tasks. He struggles to keep his eyes open, head leaning against the window despite its bumps from the uneven dirt road. He thought about calling it quits on the whole job after yesterday, but couldn’t bring himself to. It’s for selfish reasons too. The ones that deepen his guilt. 

The arrival to the farm is quicker than anticipated. Sunghoon forces himself to be more alert and awake, starting to pick up on the conversations between the others as he exits the parked truck. 

“Do you think it’s still hanging there?” One says. “The lamb of slaughter?” Another dumbly asks with a snort. “Well yeah, dipshit. You guys think that girl did it? She was weird as hell.” A third voice chimes in, “Being covered in blood and then leaving a dead animal hanging from a tree is creepy as fuck. The lady was right, stay the hell away from her.” He laughs. The others walk away in continuous chatter, leaving Sunghoon by the truck. 

Sunghoon is confused by this conversation and deeply disturbed. He doesn’t follow or press them with questions though. But it will give him much to think about for the day. He’s so exhausted from the lack of sleep, he wonders if he even heard them all correctly at all. Yeah, your whole introduction was strange but killing an animal and acting like nothing happened and then toying with him on the same day? Was all that really something a girl like you would do? He can’t say for sure because he doesn’t know you. 

He goes about his morning tasks lazily. His mind is too busy with the thoughts of you. He thinks of when or if he’ll see you today. You haven’t shown around the farm all day. It’s only an hour before noon, he tries to rationalize with himself. He still ponders throughout his work. What time will you come? Will you mysteriously show up like yesterday? Will you touch him again? Will you let him feel good? Is he forgivable or going to burn in hell for wanting more?

He shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts. Perhaps he’s too hopeful. After lunch time he goes back to the farmers lodge to take a nap. At least that’s the realistic excuse he used. He struggles to even fall asleep because he’s so anxious about listening for any sound of you possibly coming back here. 

His eyes, sullen and tired, just can’t stay open after half an hour of waiting. So eventually he does fall asleep. You never show up. When he wakes up from his long needed nap he somehow feels worse knowing you didn’t visit than he did committing his first sin. 

The following day of work is a repeat. He doesn’t see you at all yet you occupy all of his thoughts. He thinks badly of himself for many reasons. 

　On the fourth day, you finally decide it’s time to check up on the poor boy. You watched Sunghoon mope around the farm for two days and it was cute at first but you’re getting bored again. You did like how his eyes were always searching around, hopeful that every sound he heard from behind or around corners was you. Knowing you had such an effect on him made you wonder how much more you could do to him. 

From the window of your room, you watch when they all arrive. Your mother greets them like she does in the mornings and gives them all tasks that need to be completed for the day. It’s Thursday which means she’ll be out for a few hours to go into town and sort out business for products: cow and goat milk processing for cheeses and soaps. At least you assume considering you overheard her phone call about such the day prior. 

You spend the morning around the house, reading and snacking on fruits, waiting for your mother to leave so you can proceed with your plan. There was some effort into your appearance today. You wear a spaghetti strapped white babydoll dress, lined at the bottom with sewn embroideries. It’s simple and flows nicely above your knees when you walk. You hate it because it alludes to soft purity but at least it feels good to dress light in the summer heat. And it might make you all the more approachable to feeble Sunghoon. 

After about an hour, your mother finally leaves. You give it about 10 minutes before you’re shoving on your boots and leaving the house. Some of the blood from earlier in the week still stains the brown leather; you did clean them off but clearly not to the best extent. You’re okay with that though, it seems prettier this way to you. 

Looking and walking around the property, you see the scattered farmhands busy with different things. The sun isn’t kind today, it’s piercing in brightness and temperature. The sweat begins to seep from your pores in a matter of minutes, making you feel sticky. You run a hand through your tangled hair, fingers getting caught in unbrushed knots that you yank through anyways. You don’t see Sunghoon anywhere that’s directly under the sun. You continue to search around the farm, gaining a few cautious looks from the other workers. As you walk past their gazes you wear a wry smile with a tilt to your head. They look away quickly after being caught staring. 

Some wandering in and out of the different barns and coops are done. He wasn’t in any of them though.  You greet the animals you pass by and give pats to some of the cows. “Have you guys seen him nearby? I’m not a fan of hide and seek.” You mumble to one of the goats, scratching lightly beneath its chin while it chews away at grains and hay. It maas in return. You pull your hand back out from the stable then leave to continue the manhunt. 

It’s when you’re walking by the horses’ stables that you see they’ve already been cared for, telling you that someone was here already. You glance to the smaller shed nearby, having a suspicious inkling that it's where Sunghoon is. You walk to the shed and see yourself inside. And he is. He has his back turned to you, standing at a work bench table and cleaning something off. 

You walk up behind him, the sound of your footsteps being dulled by the scattered hay on the wooden floors; he doesn’t notice that you entered the space, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You tap his shoulder which makes him spin around in surprise, dropping the brushes he was cleaning. 

Sunghoon’s eyes are wide at the sight of you standing so close to him. You can tell he’s lost sleep by the dark circles around his eyes and how his complexion is impossibly paler. His mouth is stuttering to find words, opening and closing. 

You step closer to him and he steps back, his backside now pressing against the table. It wobbles on the uneven wooden stilts that hold it up. Reflexively, his hands reach back to hold onto the table, but he’s using it for his own stability. You simply stand there in between his legs, staring up at his face and taking in all the details that differ from the last time you saw him. He swallows, quietly watching your face in return. 

“I haven’t seen you around.” Sunghoon speaks first, his voice a soft surrender. You feel his breath on your face. 

“I know. I saw you though. You missed me.” You state bluntly, taking note of the little fangs he has for teeth. He probably bites good, you think, licking the back of your own teeth. 

“If you saw me then why didn’t you…” he trails off into a quiet again, closing his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” His eyes open again as he feels your hands on his chest, sliding up his white tank and underneath the sleeves of his denim jacket to his shoulders. He bites down, suddenly stiff. 

Ignoring his response you continue, “How can you wear this when it’s so warm out?” Your hands slide over his shoulders and down his toned arms, the jacket slips down to reveal the toned limbs. Your eyebrows raise at the sight yet your face remains relatively blank. “You’ve got muscle. Good for farm work.” Small hands continue to run over the smooth milk-like skin, learning every curve of his lean built physique. It’s not sexual, just exploratory. 

Sunghoon sucks in a breath, watching you inspect him. He begins to feel flustered, relishing in the contact of skin on his. You notice his tense body and ask him if it’s okay, to which replies a raspy stutter, “Y-yeah.” Your hands slide down his arms and back up to his shoulders. Then down his chest and body to stop at the waistline of his jeans. He has a nice body; he must be athletic. You don’t care to ask in what ways. Your fingers dip into his jeans just slightly to pull him in closer to you, he gasps, his growing cock pressing against your stomach. 

“Sunghoon,” You ridicule him, tsking under your breath at the pressure you feel of his arousal. “Already?” You look up at him but he can’t meet your eyes, feeling embarrassed. You play with the waistline, your fingertips running back and forth between the denim and his skin. “Is this sinning?” It’s a soft question yet mocking. He only shakes his head, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. “Do you want to?” He whimpers, slowly nodding his head. You take your hands off him, crossing your arms. “You have to tell me. Look at me and tell me.” 

He looks back at you dispirited. He knows that you know what he wants. And here you are making him admit it outloud, both to you and God. “Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.” 

There’s that feeling again. The lit match that falls from your throat to the gasoline of your stomach that erupts in flames. Fire to your abdomen and loins; it’s an angry feeling, sparked by his honest admit of want, and for you specifically. You watch him with narrowed eyes while mumbling, “you revolt me.” 

He doesn’t reply to your venomous insult. It stings to hear the degrading words in both his heart and pants; he thinks himself disgraceful too. 

You drop to your knees, hands finding place back on his jeans to undo his zipper. He stares down at you in bated breath, hands still gripping tight on the table behind him. His are pulled down slowly, purposely so. You watch him writher, body and face. “Did you do it again?” you question, looking up at him from below. He would never avow to how the sight of you on your knees alone makes him ache all the more. 

He wants to tear his eyes away from you but he can’t. The image of you in your white dress on the ground before him needs to be burned into his memory. He stutters a mumble of words but you don’t catch anything, if he even said a coherent response at all. You ask again, pinching his thigh. He tries to hum over the strained noise in the back of his throat, “Yes.. I mean no! B-but I didn’t touch myself.”

You try not to giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. Knowing he wanted to feel that way again but couldn’t on his own gave you a funny sense of power over him. One of your hands traces the outline of his hard cock through his boxer briefs. “You make a mess?” He shivers at the feeling of your breath on his suffocating length. He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.”

He moans softly, trying not to let his hips chase after the feeling that he’s been after for days. “You know I can’t,” he exhales. You roll your eyes, mouthing and licking at him languidly. Your hands are still half tugging at the material that keeps him hidden. A faint pool of precum quickly stains his boxers. 

“Sunghoon,” you look up at him with your chin resting on the bulge. He swallows hard, acknowledging you with a hum. “You will never be free from it. The sin I let you taste will forever linger on the tip of your tongue, begging and licking to taste more in crave. No holy blessed water can possibly cleanse you even if you drown in it.” 

His bottom lip pouts out with a little droning whine. He should defend himself, say that his faith is stronger than he is and that his soul is saveable by mercy. But a part of him also feels that doesn’t want to be. His eyes begin to well with tears. 

“Not even a god could make you pure again,” you give him a small smile and pat his naked thigh before pulling down his underwear. His cock now free slaps his stomach to which he breathes out heavily. You grab him with both hands, giving him one last look before taking the leaking head into your mouth. Hands working on him steadily. 

“T-that’s dirty!” he leans forward with a low sounding moan, his hands on your head and in your hair. Your eyes go wide at this. “Why would you put that in your mouth?!” he gasps, the warm wetness around his tip making him dizzy. “This is so vulgar, oh God, forgive me.” he cries, not pulling your mouth off of him but holding you there. 

You circle your tongue around the tip and over his leaking slit, licking the beads of precum that leak out. It makes your grimace before you lean back, a wet pop as your mouth leaves. “Enough of your penitence, and take your hands off me.” It sounds like a warning to which he complies without question, only a hushed apology. He’s the one who wants to be touched anyways, not you. 

You take him into your mouth again, your lips wrap around him in a painful stretch to accommodate his size. He sits heavy on your tongue that lays flat underneath, doing what you can with it. Your hands at the base work around him, jerking and squeezing him like you did before. You weren’t really sure what you were doing, mainly just mocking the actions you read about in books. It seems to be working for Sunghoon regardless because he can barely hold himself together. Whining and whimpering through fat tears, whole body shuddering from the overwhelming wet heat of your mouth. 

His jaw goes slack, mouth hung open only to elicit a breathless moan. His head rolls back on his neck and his eyes flutter to a close. The feeling of your mouth wrapping around him is hot heaven. His body trembles with the new, sweeping sensation. Stomach already tight with contracting muscles. He thinks he could pass out. 

Watching his face, him, discover and feel pleasurable sin is slightly euphoric to you. You’ve seen it in movies and read of it in books, but it was something you never quite fully explored yourself. There’s been a few instances that you did touch yourself; it always felt empty or like something was always missing. There’s little to no excitement when doing it alone in shameful hiding. Witnessing, causing such debauchery is different somehow. Safer in ways you didn’t dwell in thought on. You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way. 

Involuntarily, he thrusts himself down your throat with a guttural groan. You gag and cough around him, tears sting your eyes that make you squeeze them shut—refusing to let a single one dare to escape. Now it felt like a challenge. One to which you wouldn’t back down in fear of looking weak. 

Your hands hold his thighs roughly, bruisingly so if you had the strength. You move his body in a small back and forth motion, encouraging him to continue his movements. You’re looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a slight nod. He chokes a sob at the sight, you on your knees not to pray but to devour him.

“Ah, I- I’m sorry. Your mouth is so wet, so warm.” He starts off with shallow thrusts, dragging his cock along your wet muscle. His hips stutter while his world seems to be crashing down. “This is so dirty. You look so dirty. And—ngh—it’s.. it’s so good. It’s so good,” he babbles, pushing himself as far down into your mouth as he can. His tip kisses the back of your throat making you gag around him. Your nails digging into the flesh of his strong legs. He can’t stop moaning and whimpering, becoming a slave to pleasure. 

He watches your face. Hollowed cheeks sucking and swallowing around him, the tightness of your throat around him hugging and contracting through chokes that reverberate your body to his cock. The spit that leaks from your lips and all over him is obscene, such a sinful mess. He so badly wants to grab your head and force himself down further, but his nails dig into the wood of the table instead. 

“Hm, I can’t—” he moans your name, thrusting rougher now. His whole body crumbling in on itself, chasing the feeling of release. 

Then there’s the sound of footsteps and a few voices that follow. Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath, taking a fist to his mouth to bite down onto. He looks at you in fear because of the proximity of the other farmhands right outside. This only makes you smirk around him, a glint of evil in your eyes. He shakes his head hurriedly, stopping his movements—as if that would make you both disappear. 

You push yourself off his cock, licking over your cracked and saliva covered lips. You bring a finger to your lips and shush him. “Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.” Your voice is quiet and raspy from the abuse of him fucking himself down your throat. You stare into his eyes intently before taking him back in. He glances from you to the door of the shed, his body shaking. 

You slurp and suck him up, purposely loud and sloppy. A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. He cries quietly with his mouth open, meek and desperate sounds escape that he can’t withhold. “Please…” He’s whimpering, begging for something that he doesn’t know the context of. 

“Do you think the extra feed is in this one?” A voice questions, the door being opened just a crack. 

Sunghoon quickly tries to bend down for his jeans but you slap his hand away, pushing him back into the table. You grip his thighs and force yourself to take all of him down. You gag around him, eyes never leaving his panicky and fucked out face. His face silently begs for you that enough is enough but you don’t stop, because a part of you knows he doesn’t want you to either. 

“It doesn’t hurt to check, does it?” The other replies with a light chuckle. “Could take a break for some shade too while we’re at it.” The door opens slowly with an agonizing creak, sunlight barely pouring. 

Each passing second feels like an eternity to him. The door is still only cracked, not enough for them to see inside but it’s cutting it close. His cock twitches at the thought of being caught with his dick down the throat of the farmer’s daughter. A blazing adrenaline rushes through him. 

Sunghoon can’t bear it any longer. His hands find purchase on the back of your head, pushing himself completely into your mouth. His hips stutter with a whimper on his lips as the hot cum pours down your throat. “Ah, sh- ngh!” You smack at his legs for him to release the hold, choking for air to breathe. You instinctively swallow around him, consuming his load of sin.  

“You dumbass! The horses are already fed, let’s just go for a water break.” The door slams back on itself to a close. Their footsteps can be heard walking away. 

Sunghoon breathes heavily, letting go of you. His body instantly relaxing back with his elbows on the table to support him. Meanwhile you fall onto your ass, a hand around your throat while you gasp for air through rough coughs. “What the fuck did I say about putting your hands on me?” You rasp before coughing again. The taste of him sits on the back of your tongue no matter how much you swallow. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “we shouldn’t get caught.” He pulls his pants and boxers back up then extends a hand to you, an offering to help you stand back up. 

You scoff, ignoring his hand and stand up on your own. You brush the dirt and stray strands of hay from your knees. “Whatever. We both got what we wanted.” You start to turn for the door to leave the shed with the thought of brushing your teeth in mind. 

Sunghoon, confused as to what you could’ve gotten out of helping him, just reaches for your hand. He grabs you and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are sad, maybe even a little afraid by your haste to leave. “Y-you’re just going to leave me again?” He sounds broken by the fact. 

“What?” You can’t help but breathe a laugh, “Did you expect me to do more?” You ask with raised brows. 

“No! No, not like that.. But..” He swallows his pride, “I- I don’t know. Just don’t leave yet. Please.” 

You blink at him, scanning his features like a robot in calculation. The pleading of his expression and his words aggravate you. A fiery burning to your insides and the skin that he touches, that he reached for. You look down to his tight grip on your hand before yanking it away. You don’t say anything more, and neither does he. He wipes his eyes from whatever salty wetness is still there. 

A moment of silence solidifies your decision. You beckon him to follow you out and he does. 

For the rest of his work day you remain. You try not to think about why. But subconsciously you know it’s because for the first time someone willingly wants to be by your side. At first you imagine it’s because of what you’ve done for him—gave him what any man desires: pleasure. A man falling into temptation is far too easy. 

Though he doesn’t ask for more and he doesn’t bring it up. Almost like it never happened. 

It seems like he really just wants to be around you. There’s little said between each other. It’s just idle farm work with company. And it’s more peaceful than you expected it to be. He didn’t touch you, question you, or do much at all to bother you in general. 

Sometimes he stares at you, but you do the same to him. He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned. That doesn’t bother him though. He thinks you look beautiful on the farm in your dress with dirt covered hands and hair messy from the wind. He hopes to tell you that one day but for now he stays shy, still weary and afraid. 

The sun shines relentlessly unless a cloud mercifully passes by. The breeze is rare yet kind. The animals make their sounds to sing a collective song. The trees and crops sway like waving hands of hellos and goodbyes, depending on where you’re headed to or from. It’s not so bad. 

　Two weeks go by. Time flies by for both you and Sunghoon. He comes to work during the week, and he spends his weekends missing you. He doesn’t know what you two are to each other, and he’s too scared to ask. There’s definitely been changes to the dynamic, however. Subtly so. You still don’t smile, or let him touch you. You roll your eyes and insult him if he’s too emotional. But you’re there. 

Certainly not everyday, but most, you spend his work days with him. It’s easier to be around one another. There can be small talk, usually about the farm or the weather. Still much to be learned about on a personal level, but he’s fine with the pace of the relationship (outside of the unholy acts that are committed). Sometimes you even end up helping him. Or at least he thinks of it that way. In reality you don’t like how he does things and take over to do it yourself. 

You still tease him in your cruel ways. Always ending with him in a mess because he’s easily worked up by your handsy curiosity. He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him. 

There are other times where you confuse him. You suggest a water break knowing he’d gone hours without hydration under the summer heat. You insist on having him take a break under a roof away from the sun when his skin gets too sweaty or red. Which is followed by a reminder that sunscreen is important if he wishes to keep his milky complexion. It’s critical statements that you provide him, but he can’t help to think it’s a weird way of showing you care. 

Sure, it could be seen as you selfishly saying these things because it’s what you want for yourself, but in the back of his mind he’s very aware of how you watch and cater to him. It makes his heart jump every time and butterflies swarm his stomach. He can’t help it. The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink. 

On the third weekend since starting his summer job, Jake can’t help all the questions he’s been building up and dying to ask. Jake doesn’t understand what Sunghoon has been going through, especially when his moods change so drastically. At first, Sunghoon was self isolating and pouty, clearly in his own head and sulking. But then he would come home from work beaming with an afterglow to his aura. And then on the weekends he was back to his reclusive, depressed state. 

Sick of being left out of Sunghoon’s inner turmoil, Jake finally pesters his friend. 

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake stands in the doorway of Sunghoon’s room, staring at his friend who’s laying face down in his bed. 

“I don’t know…” Sunghoon’s words are muffled in his pillow. 

Jake walks in with a sigh and sits at the end of the bed. He playfully slaps Sunghoon’s leg. “Dude, just tell me. You’re obviously going through something. You know I can keep a secret. I won’t judge.” 

Sunghoon rolls over on his back, his hands clasped together over his stomach as he stares up to the ceiling. He confides in Jake, telling his story from the beginning of when he first met you. He stutters over his words when he admits to the sinful acts he partook in with you. He tells Jake of his guilty conscience and how he enjoyed indulging in the feelings. Then he tells Jake about how he simply likes your company even without the sexual circumstances involved. How he’s mystified by your complex personality and only wishes to know you more. However, he does leave out the viciousness of your nature, since a part of him doesn’t quite believe in it. 

“It seems like you’re starting to develop a crush.” Jake laughs lightly, “And if it’s about religion, don’t overthink it too much. Nobody dies completely pure.” He reassures him. “You should show her more of you. That you like her too.” 

Sunghoon groans and covers his face at the terrifying suggestion. If only you were that easy to approach in such a vulnerable way. “I guess… I’ll consider it.” 

The next day is Sunday. Jake and Sunghoon attend church as normal. Sunghoon participates less in his prayers and songs than usual. His mind is too preoccupied with all he has going on in life. He feels guilt and frustration. 

Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally. 

You’re never as alone as you think you are if you take a better look around. Everyone is riddled with their own self disgust, guilt, or shame. How else would the churches be so full? 

　Entering the fourth week of summer should feel easier than it does for Sunghoon. The work seems to be picking up regarding responsibilities. The weather is only becoming less forgivable. The peak is yet to hit, but that only means the seasonal storms are right around the corner. More care is needed in the fields and barns in terms of protection in case of unpredictable weather. 

Aside from the work, Sunghoon is anxious because of you. He hasn’t seen you yet today and he feels nervous about it. Perhaps he has grown too clingy, finding close comfort in knowing you’re there with him on the farm. There’s a sense of safety when you’re in the line of sight; you make things easier for him and he enjoys the presence. 

While he’s watering plants and checking the sprinklings through the fields, an older man approaches him. It’s a familiar face that he’s seen around a few times over the past month. The man waves with a smile and Sunghoon does the same. 

“It’s amazing what you’ve done, boy.” The man begins, Sunghoon questions where he’s going with the start because he’s just an extra hand of help and doesn’t feel he’s accomplished or improved the farm in drastic ways. “I’ve worked here, hm, well I’ll be damned! Nearly 15 years! And I’ve never once seen that farm girl talk to anyone. Much less spend time.” the man chuckles. 

“Oh!” Sunghoon blushes and hopes it’s only mistaken as feverish from the summer. He smiles small and stares down to the bundle of plants he brought with him to the farm today. He feels special knowing this much of you. “She’s something…” 

“Sometimes I’d see her talk to herself and the animals.” The man pulls out a cigarette and lighter to smoke. “She’d walk around aimlessly like a ghost. Used to scare the hell outta me.” As he laughs, smoke escapes his lungs. He wheezes a little before continuing, “But now she follows and watches you like she’s worshipin’. If only she did the same with her daddy. Although with a face like yours, I can’t blame the girl.” 

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?” Sunghoon, bemused, watches the man smoke and laugh between weak coughs. “She has a dad?” His last question is overroad by the man who speaks over him. 

“You keep up your work, kid. I outta get back to mines too.” And then he’s walking away with a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself. 

Sunghoon’s aware of your mother. He always thought it was just the two of you running things. He’s never once seen a man, your father, leave the house or so much so be around it. This gives him more to think about, especially on the fact that he still doesn't know much about you at all. You’re still an enigma to him, but he wants everything. 

By the afternoon when all the guys are finishing up their break, you finally come out of the house. With the sound of the front door opening, Sunghoon is quick to straighten his posture and find your eyes. You’re already looking at him, watching him and his surroundings with no expression. His cheeks burn and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips. 

Two and a half days without seeing you feels like so much longer. 

He stands up from the picnic table, grabbing his newspaper wrapped bundle of greenery and shyly hiding it behind his back. He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house. You stand there in front of the door but at the top of the few stairs, arms crossed and amused. 

He’s diffident, arms behind him and modestly attempting to hide how nervous he feels on the inside. His stomach is doing flips, his heart racing. On top of already sweating. He feels like he could throw up his lunch right in front of your feet. He swallows thickly before slowly bringing his hands out in front of himself. 

“I,” he clears his throat, “ehem, I got these for you.” With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. He suddenly feels he’s too nervous to even meet your eyes, so he watches the chipped paint wood of the front porch steps. 

You just stand there, watching him with wide eyes and your heart in your throat. Your mouth is lost for words, glancing around at the few farmhands who haven’t left yet and are staring at Sunghoon’s exchange in a similar bewilderment. Some are trying to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter.

“Are you some kind of stupid?” You whisper harshly for only him to hear, snatching the flowers out of his hands. “Why the hell would you do this?” Your words like your tone are mean, but in your chest there’s a raging pounding. It’s a seething raw emotion that doesn’t know how to be dealt with. You’ve only just stepped out of the house and your body feels like it’s inside a furnace. 

Sunghoon’s head shoots back up to look at you, his face and heart drop. “I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” He takes a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Inner turmoil takes over and he thinks he’s fucked up. He bites at his lip, doing his best not to instantly cry in regret. 

You notice this and sigh, irritated. You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. “So you are stupid,” you mumble before taking your own bottom lip between your teeth. A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. “I’m throwing them away,” you announce, opening the door and walking back inside your house. 

Sunghoon, broken, just drops his head and turns back. A few of the farmhands are snickering from not too far away, chattering among each other and eyeing Sunghoon. He wishes God would smite him on the spot from the humiliation. 

Wanting to avoid everything for a little while, he thinks of heading to the lodge to lay down in hiding. But before he can walk away, the front door of your house swings open once more. He glances back at you, meeting your eyes like he always seems to do. 

“Done for the day already?” You call over to him, now leaning over the banister of the porch with crossed arms. 

Sunghoon, unable to refute you, offers a weak smile and shakes his head. “No.” 

He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway. You don’t say anything else. You don’t bring up the fact that he had bought you flowers or confused the odd relationship you share for dating. It’s cute in all its blind innocence, but that just goes to show you that you have more work to do with him. 

You don’t think of messing with him today. He’s distinctly grown too clingy with how much time you’ve spent with him. Yet you can’t ignore him either. The two of you carry out the rest of the day’s farm work in silence. The inner fury you feel with him doesn’t seem to go away, despite how he hasn’t said much or even brushed skin with you. 

You don’t know how you’re remaining pacific by his side. The rampaging of your heart strings tug like a screaming instrument just from being next to him. How he can keep walking tall, stare at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or even smile at you is beyond what you know is capable of humans. Men like him only existed in books and movies. You wonder if he’s perhaps playing a game like you.

By the time he’s in the truck to go back to town to catch a bus into the city, you’re sitting at the lake dock. Criss crossed legs, a bouncing knee, and fingernails being ripped at by your teeth. You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold.

So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way. 

You don’t leave your house for the next three days. You don’t make yourself known, heard or seen. However, you’re peeking out every window of your house to get any chance of a view of him. You hate yourself for being so curious of him in the first place. What was supposed to be good fun has only left you feeling angry. Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker.

And on the night of the fourth Thursday, you’re laying in bed staring at your ceiling. A stuffed animal is hugged tightly to your chest. You can’t sleep and you can’t stop thinking about someone for the first time in your life. No amount of tossing and turning, counting sheep, or button presses to your distorted singing, stuffed bear made it easier. 

Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. It actually kind of hurt. Being alone came naturally to you, but tonight it hits you just how lonely you’ve always been. 

　Friday, the farmhands are huddled on the front porch of your house. All the animals are safely away in their designated homes thanks to their help. It started to storm in a heavy downpour only minutes ago. What started out as a dark gray gloom and windy rain quickly turned into an early flooded property, illuminated by strikes of flashing lightning and roaring thunder. 

You stand dry under the protection of the porch roof by the front door. Watching and listening to your mother suggest the shaking cold, soaked men take shelter in the lodge until the sky lets up so they can head home. 

Sunghoon hasn’t spared a look to you all day, but you know that he feels his eyes on you. It’s in the way he shifts awkwardly amongst the men that ignore him. How his eyes are trained low and unfocused yet always trying to move in your direction. His wet hair falls over his face, concealing his emotions you wish to dissect. He comes off as stoic but you know he wears his heart on his sleeve; how his body language speaks volumes. 

Your mother pushes past you to get back inside, saying she’ll check the basement for a spare heater that the boys could use at the lodge. There’s something in you that makes you move without thinking. Suddenly a hand is tugging at the bottom of Sunghoon’s damp jacket for his attention. The material is too thin for this weather and the thought of him becoming sick crosses your mind. 

“It’s warmer here,” your words, for once, came out soft. Too much so, being lost in the cracking sound of thunder. He looks at you through his bangs. The wave of alleviation from whatever he was dealing with is palpable. His eyes and body almost look relaxed. You tug him towards you once more, insinuating that he follows you. 

He does. Like whatever subconscious emotion made you approach him also made him follow you in. As he steps in, he notices the indistinguishable vibes of the farmer’s lodge. It’s updated and cleaner, but similar in aesthetics. A shotgun sits leaning up against the wall by the front door. His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Those aren’t safe to have lying around…” he mumbles. 

You tug him towards the staircase to walk up, “It’s protection. Only my mother and I are here,” is mumbled back as you lead him up the wooden, creaking stairs. Your feet move light and quick, like a mouse in a home not theirs. If your mother saw you, there would be unnecessary consequences. And the possibility of your father’s involvement would only worsen such. 

Sunghoon cautiously steps into your bedroom, his body tenses at the sound of you shutting and locking the door. He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. You move around him to sit on your bed, telling him to remove his sopping attire. He does so with shaking hands, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He shyly looks around the room while using his hands to cover his manhoon. 

His eyes scan over you, sitting quietly on your bed with a look of contemplation that stares past him. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above your bed, the dark wood matches the decadent bed frame. The nightstand nearby has a pile of books and journals with a low light lamp and unlit candle. 

The large window has sheer white curtains drawn open and a vase on the windowsill. A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week. His heart aches at the sight of the still healthy white roses and tulips, and a smile graces his lips. You liar! You kept them! Is what runs through his thoughts. 

Without Sunghoon realizing, you got up to grab a towel and drape over the back of his shoulders. He’s taken aback by your ghost-like actions, but offers you a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks…” 

You nod for response and glance from him to the vase of flowers he was lost in thought over. You didn’t have it in to explain yourself, mostly because you didn’t understand why you had done so either. 

He dries himself off and finds a place to sit at the end of your bed. You’re on the other end with your back pressed to the headboard, watching him, counting every mole you can find on his pale canvas. The stuffed animal you sleep with is being mindlessly fumbled around in your hands. 

Sunghoon turns to face you directly, he reaches a hand out, eyes shifting from your face and the winged bear. You shoot him a mean look at first, only holding it closer to yourself before your face softens to slowly extend it out to him. 

He takes it with careful hands and looks down to inspect the old toy. Its cream colored fur is dirtied and matted with age. The holographic satin wings on the back have loose stitching and its halo is crooked. Across the chest of the bear reads ‘Jesus Loves Me’ but it’s obvious the sewn name Jesus has been ripped away at. One paw has a red heart embroidered saying ‘press me’. His thumb brushes over the button heart before pressing down. The bear sings in a distorted happy voice the lullaby of Jesus loves me. 

“His name is Saint Michael,” you say quietly and he almost doesn’t catch it. Sunghoon can only breathe a laugh because he finds the dichotomy cute. You almost laugh too, but bite your tongue and look back to your empty hands. You don’t know it but he can see you try to fight your little smile. To him, this moment means more than anything; he’s starting to see you’re more tender than you realize. It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him. 

Silly as it may seem for a troubled girl, the bear was the only comfort you had throughout childhood. There was no kindness from your father, no solace from your mother, no guide in knowing life or love. But there was Saint Michael, the stuffed angel bear; he may not have defended you in battle but he hugged you back, and that was enough to cherish him like a deity. 

Sunghoon crawls across the bed and sits himself next to you, too close for your liking, but you don’t push him away. He hands the stuffie back to you and you place it on the nightstand to face away from you. You lower yourself in the bed, shuffling under the covers of the blanket and he does the same. His skin naked bare yearns for more warmth, yours specifically. 

You feel him turn on his side next to you, pressing up against you despite there being enough space on the bed. His movements are awkward and nervous like he is. You feel a certain pressure against your thigh that isn’t his bones or limbs. You spare him a glance, he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or dare. 

“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling. 

“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. The way he’s missed you in his desire to touch you, hands tingling with want to snake around your waist and pull you in tight. “I think I just want you all the time now. I can’t help it, m’sorry.” He sounds ashamed in his soft mumbles. 

“I’ll only keep stripping all that purity from you. Once it’s mine it’ll remain mine, you know that right?” You look back at him before brushing some of his drying hair from his eyes. He tries to lean up into the touch but your hand is taken back. “And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?” Your words are so gentle yet laced with threat. 

“Yes,” he exhales, “I want to be yours. Let me be yours please.” It’s hushed, a secret prayer with hope. His hips push further into the skin of your leg, where the hip meets the thigh. He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you. 

“You beg like a needy barn animal in heat.” You use a hand to cup his face, he sighs into the hold as he eyes flutter to a close. You push your leg in between his, terribly close to his exposed and vibrating body. “So hump me like one.” 

“W-what?” he stutters out before licking over his lips, his thighs squeezing around the plush of yours now trapped in his. His eyes already wet with desperate want, staring back at yours.

“Do it. Like it’s mating season and you want to claim me before anyone else.” 

A cracked voice whine falls from his lips and he begins to roll his growing bulge against you. You watch as he sucks in breaths between quiet breathy moans. His pink, plump lips pursing and falling open. His eyes try to stay on your face, how close you are to him, but they fall shut sometimes in his basking of rapture. It’s a slutty sight of a faith-sickened boy. 

He loves the little to no proximity that there is. His hands find place on your waist, and he’s aware of how that makes you feel, but he can’t stop it. He wants more and more of you. His hands slide up under your shirt, the feeling on your bare skin in his hands makes his body shudder. Untouched, warm flesh for his large hands to explore and learn every curve of. 

Even you stiffen at his exploration, holding in your breath as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Your shirt lifts up more with his hands and the exposure is daunting like you’re revealing your insides. 

The pit of your stomach lights up and you're frozen under his clutch. The pads of his fingers hold you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. His cock is raging and you can feel every pulse of blood that his heart beat floods to. He’s humping into you desperately, chasing the euphoria that he could never find on his own. Such a delicate, shy boy now driven by lust and longing. 

“You’re pathetic and disgusting. You’re practically fucking me through our clothes,” you murmur while you try to push his hands down off you, but his grip won’t let up. Instead his nails dig further into you, a barely sounding broken noise escapes you from the pain. This makes his body collapse further into you, his head dropping between your shoulder and neck. His movements are sloppy and rushed. 

“N-no, I’m still good. You make me feel good, I am so good,” he whines, tears beginning to fall from his eyes to your shoulder. You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes. 

“Tell me that only I make you feel good, that you’re only good for me.” 

“Only you—can only be you to make me good,” he cries against your warmth, rocking himself into you roughly. His leaking cock begins to twitch against you and his hips won’t quit their stuttered jerks. 

You hum lightly and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He looks up at you with those desperate, wet, dark eyes and you can’t help but acknowledge how pretty he is like this. His puffy cheeks are flushed pink as the tip of his nose. “Only for me,” you mumble.

“Yes, thank you, I am yours. Yes.” His breaths are jagged and heavy. There’s a coiling in his abdomen that feels borderline explosive. You were right, he craves this feeling. It’s surreal to him how he’s gone so long without it. His arms wrap around you completely now, holding you down while his body rolls on top of yours, situated between your legs. His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot. 

You squeak a gasp, being caged down by him. Your heart beats with the same veracity. One of your arms wraps around his waist to hold his back while the other holds the back of his head that hasn’t left the safety of your neck. He continuously sobs through meek moans. His hair tickles your skin like sparks while his lips brush over your jaw and neck making the tingle feel like crackling flames. 

Under his weight you feel yourself slipping in both confidence and dominance, your body wanting to sink down in submission from the unknown comfort of his control. Your heart aches and you feel something you’ve never felt before. You think you’re scared of it, yet your body pulls him closer. Hand in his hair, tugging with fearful aggression. Nails piercing the skin of his shoulder blade. You’re pliant under his heavy thrusts and sounds of sin. 

The rain pours harder outside with whips of harsh winds smacking the window. It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching. 

Sunghoon’s hard cock is relentless against your core. The rough grind of him is stimulating in ways   you’ve never felt before, your body sensitive and starving for more. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan within your closed mouth, hating yourself for feeling this way because it was never supposed to be about you. You are betraying yourself more than your fathers.

The sounds you try to withhold make Sunghoon weaker. He feels uncontrollable, only becoming needier and hungrier with his movements, “I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” He whines, begging for you to vocalize how you feel it too. 

You feel like you’re breaking underneath him, and it feels shameful. Like every harsh word your father ever spat at you was true now that you’re a part of the experience and not just the cause. Everything is too much. It takes every ounce of strength you have to turn both of your bodies over. Now sitting up on top of his lap, you can finally breathe again, sighing in relief. He whimpers at the distance between you both but also from the view of you. 

He moans your name softly as he grips your hips, pushing himself up into your clothed pussy like he’s fucking you. Your hands push down on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes with a plain expression and contrasting sharp eyes, grinding your hips back down on top of him. It’s hard to ignore the way it makes you feel, watching him fall apart beneath you as his pulsing cock fucks against you, but you manage. 

“Cum for me,” you demand quietly, “make a mess and imagine it’s inside me.” 

“Holy fu—ngh,” his entire body spasms and shudders with a low groan falling from his open lips. His movements slow down only to become lazier and uncoordinated. You can feel the warm wetness he spills soak through your thin pajama shorts and underwear. 

“You’re right. You are good for me,” you coo softly, cupping his face and using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Your hips circle and swivel slowly on him until his quivering cock finishes cumming. 

Sunghoon has a sparkle to his wet eyes. The way the gentle praise left your lips makes him melt, and he can’t stop the flickering glance between your eyes and lips. He breathes heavily through his post clarity. Still he basks in your touch with a hopeful look in his eyes. His tongue slides over his lips before he’s leaning up towards your face, hands affixed to your waist to pull you closer to him. 

This makes a wave of panic wash over you, knowing what he wants to do. You shake your head no and pull yourself away, slipping off of his lap only to turn away from him. 

“None of that. It’s not what-” 

And then there’s a press of lips to your cheek. Your face burns as if a hot coal was what kissed your face. Your eyes go wide, turning to see the boy sitting up next to you. He only wears a shy smile as he sees your reaction.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a week now,” he admits with a small laugh. “Not exactly there but that’s fine. I wish you would let me help you feel good too.” he whispers, looking back to the windowsill where the gifted flowers stood in their vase with the raging storm as their backdrop. 

“That’s dumb and I don’t need to,” you reply, still watching him stare forward. Your chest feels painful; it’s an ache like shattered glass trying to piece together in the wrong ways. Stabbing but trying.

“I think you deserve to,” he argues. “But I understand if it’s not what you want. I was really touchy and I shouldn’t have been because you don’t seem like it. I was too caught up in the moment.” His mind goes to the mess he’s still sitting in and he feels self-conscious all over again. “Is it embarrassing how much I need you?”

You blink at him, swallowing the words that were never going to come out because you didn’t even know what they should or would be. So you settle with a simple, “No.”

You think it would kill you to admit how much you actually always wished to be wanted, needed, or loved. A bigger part of you didn’t think you were worthy of it, let alone capable. The world had such a way of saying otherwise. Until it brought Sunghoon to you; the boy who showed you feelings and experiences you never thought possible. 

As if he could read your mind, he asks, “Why did you choose me out of everyone?” He falls back onto the bed, laying down and pulling the blanket over himself. 

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.” 

“Pardon?” His brows furrow. 

You lay back down next to him, facing him like he is to you. “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are.” You even laugh a little. “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiles wide, scooting closer to you. 

You scoff with an eye roll, leaning further away from him. “Oh shut up, you’ve seen a mirror.” 

And then it’s his turn to laugh a little. He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. It kind of hurts you to see him like this because it reminds you of your initial rotten intentions and how they’re dissipating the more you’re with him. 

Time passes faster than the two of you realize. There’s light banter and easy conversations. You learn more about Sunghoon. Where he goes to school, what he studies, and who his friends are. He tells you of the sports he used to do and what he does in free time with his best friend. The more you learn about him, the more you understand his naivety and how despite what you’ve done, he won’t change. There’s something lovely about it. 

You don’t have much to share about your life the way he does, at least not in the same light. But you show him your favorite books, drawings you made over the years, and share the stories of movies you found interesting. He savors the moment of you simply confiding, enjoying the more he can know about you. 

The storm passes later in the evening. So caught up in borrowing time, the rain has slowed down to a simple pitter patter. The clouds dispersed and the setting sun only came through to say goodbye to the day. 

The sound of the truck that the farmhands use to take back to town is heard roaring to life, signalling you and Sunghoon that it’s safe and time to head out. 

Sunghoon jumps out of bed but by the time he’s shoving himself into his still damp jeans and looking out the window, the truck is already speeding down the dirt, now mud riddled road. 

“They just left without me,” he breathes out. “I’m used to them leaving me out, but t-this is.. How am I going to get home?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, not the light they had earlier. He’s not shocked by their actions, but he is disappointed. A hand runs through his hair in his stress. 

“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness. 

“W-what?!” he whispers in shock, freezing for a moment. 

“I’m joking.” You sit up and watch Sunghoon resume getting dressed. “I think you should head back to the lodge for the night. There’s a washer and dryer for your clothes. And spare food for dinner too.” 

Sunghoon nods slightly, “your jokes are weird, but okay.” He looks like he’s thinking of something, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before speaking again. “Can you stay with me for the night at least?” he asks shyly. 

“No,” comes out quicker than you intended. “...But I guess I can walk with you there.” 

He nods again but now with his signature small dimpled smile. You almost forgot about being angry at the other farmhands for taking it away. 

You have to make sure the coast is clear before leaving the house. You tiptoe down the halls and stairs, weary of where your mother is inside the house. To your luck, she’s in her usual state. She’s passed out on the couch with two empty bottles of wine on the floor. The television volume is low, playing a rerun of the reverend’s sermon; the devil himself of your childhood, preaching about how he lost his child to the otherside. 

With a finger to your lips, you silently signal for Sunghoon to be quiet and to follow you out. 

Once safely out of the front door, you take his hand in yours and start running for the lodge. The tall boy is behind you, so you don’t get to see the bright smile on his lips or in his eyes as you run through the light run towards the lodge. 

Now standing in the front doorway of the farmer’s lodge, wet from the sky all over again and still hand in hand, Sunghoon bravely speaks up.

“I don’t like it when you disappear on me,” he breathes out shakily, honestly. “Nobody else sees me like you do,” he squeezes your hand tighter in his, feeling you begin to pull away. “Come with me into the city tomorrow. We can- I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure I want more time with you.” 

His eye contact is unwavering, begging. Both of his strong hands hold onto yours. You glance from your hand then back to his pleading expression. He will always remain so sweet, no matter what you do to him. 

“I felt less lonely before I met you,” you confess, eyes unblinking as you stare up at him for a long pause. “I’ll meet you here in the morning.” 

In only seconds, he’s pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you so tightly as he holds you to his chest. You go stiff in his arms, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. What feels suffocating at first turns into a warmth you’ve become all too familiar with, and it was never anger. The indignation you always wear is just a hand me down from your parents; it doesn’t fit you right even though it’s comfortable. 

With a shaky exhale, you wrap your arms around him too. The hug surrounds you like a blanket of unknown comfort. Your ear pressed to his chest listens to the sound of his racing heart. You can feel the pound throughout his entire body too. Every emotion held within is trying and fighting to be seen. It’s still so cold from the rain but he feels contrast, only warm. His lips press a kiss to the top of your head, making your body burn even more and your hold all the tighter. 

　True to your word, you meet Sunghoon at the farmer’s lodge the next morning. He seems happier than usual. Very giddy to be spending a weekend day with you without work in the way. No distractions or excuses to leave. Just the two of you and a new day with zero obligations.

Because you had a spare bike, you both are able to peddle towards town to the bus stop together. Having made these frequent trips alone, you’re familiar with the owner of the gas station at the stop. He’s a deaf older man, and it surprises Sunghoon that you know how to sign and ask him to hold onto the bikes until you’re back. You tell Sunghoon that you learned some basics from reading a book you bought a long time ago. 

Stunned, Sunghoon realizes that you went out of your way to do so for one man who watches your bike while you endure solo trips. You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor. He’s learning more to admire you for by the day, and it’s crazy to him how you don’t see your own charm. 

Sunghoon pays your bus fares even though you insisted on being capable of doing so yourself. Sat in the middle of the bus that’s only barely half filled, he asks if there’s anything you’d like to do for the day while in the city. Nobody has ever asked you such an effortless thing, and you like it more than you imagined. Just uncomplicated curiosity of your wishes. 

“The book store. The small yellow one on main street. Maybe see a movie if anything is worth seeing.” You shrug, spewing out the usual things you do. Looking around the taken bus seats, you notice some familiar faces. 

“That sounds nice,” he smiles, “our first real date! I think there’s a cafe near that book store too. Do you like coffee?” 

Your cheeks burn as you stare at him in bewilderment, “you think we’re going on a date?!” 

“Of course we are,” he laughs like it’s obvious and wraps an arm around your shoulder, looking out of the window. All that the town can offer him other than you passes by. “I’m a fan of americanos. You seem like you’d take your coffee black.” 

“I don’t even like coffee,” you mumble, turning your attention out of the window as well. “Tea is nice though.” You add in, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side. 

So much can change in such little time. You’ve experienced this many times in one life. How one day can open a new door to a path otherwise not taken. Showing Sunghoon more of you has made him bloom into a larger ray of light. He seems more comfortable, and now you’ve become the awkward one. 

The ride to the city doesn’t normally take this long, or at least you don’t think it does. Every second with him by your side makes the experience feel brand new. The theme of time being unreal is common with him, you’ve discovered. It’s when you’re in the bookstore and see a holiday sale that you realize it’s not even June anymore. 

While Sunghoon looks for books for his upcoming college semester, you find yourself in genre sections you never really cared for before. The dark and racy ones were fun to bring home, sure. But innocent, cliche romance was always something cringey to you. Now if you change your perspective to that of research then it’s less daunting, right? Perhaps you’d make sense of all the things you’re discovering about yourself and him. Yeah, that’s convincing enough. 

He teases you at the checkout counter when he sees what you picked out. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you can’t even bite back at him or defend your choices. So you smack him with the book on the way out while he laughs and makes jokes that aren’t very funny. 

The two of you do manage to catch a movie. You honestly didn’t care to see one, but having to sit silently in a theater for at least an hour and half seemed like enough time for him to, hopefully, forget and drop the whole book situation. It’s a summer slasher film. A group of teens go camping and the plot is very ‘who done it’ style. Overall, it’s a fun choice. You have your turn to laugh and joke when Sunghoon gets jumpy or scared. 

After the movie, you both end up at the cafe Sunghoon mentioned while on the bus. There was something painfully intimate about everything today. But especially sitting down to eat with him. Not even your mother could meet you at the table anymore. 

“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down. “Almost nervous. Is it because we’re out together for our first date? Or just the people in general?” 

You raise a brow at his brazen curiosity and observation. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you play with your fork to move around the barely touched food in front of you. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.” 

“If you come to the city enough to know sign language for the man who watches your bike, do you like it better than the countryside?” 

“Don’t know. I’m used to the quiet life, but leaving it behind and pretending it’s not there is nice too.” 

“What keeps you there?” 

“The scenery. The air. The lake. Being friends with the animals.” You look up from the plate to Sunghoon who is watching you like a lecture: attentive and learning. “I’m not very good with people, so I think it suits me alright.” 

“You’re good with me though,” he argues softly.

“No, not really. I wish I was more like everyone else,” you inhale deeply as your eyes wander around the bustling cafe. There’s a choir of laughter, conversations, and social dynamics you would have to study to master. “If I were a good person, everything would be easier.” 

“...but I like you as you are,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear, watching you shift in your seat. He doesn’t think you’re not a good person, and it hurts that you see yourself as such. 

As Sunghoon speaks, there’s a chime that follows as the front door of the cafe is swung open. A disheveled man stumbles inside, heavy feet stomping the tile floor to attempt to stabilize his disorientation. The man burps obnoxiously loud, and many eyes find him with the grand entrance. 

He scratches at his lengthy, unkept beard as he looks around. When his sunken eyes find you sitting at the table nearby his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. His hand shakes with a pointed finger in your direction, “y-you! The girl from the reverend’s sermon!” He’s loud, capturing the attention of everyone now. His sloppy movements make way towards you and Sunghoon; you feel everything within you freeze, and your heart knocks at your chest fast and hard with anxiety.  

He slams his hands on the table, causing your plates and drinks to rattle. He reeks badly of alcohol and his crazed eyes never leave yours. You swallow thickly, fight or flight mode still trying to understand the situation before you. Meanwhile Sunghoon, worried and confused, slowly begins to stand up and grab your bags. 

But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table. 

“I thought the reverend made you up for stories, but my God! You’re the real living thing just like the pictures; his only sin,” he laughs boisterously in your face and you try not to gag. “I saw him a little whiles earlier, ya know,” his voice goes quieter, it’s taunting even. You wish to remain calm but your eyes tremble and a frown takes your face. “I should go find him and tell him you’re here. He really-”

Sunghoon takes your hand, practically dragging you away from the table. You almost fall from your seat, like a baby deer just learning to walk, there’s little strength to your legs. 

“It’s not too late! You can be on the right side of things!” his voice ricochets off the walls of the now quiet cafe. “If I can be saved by his preaching, so can you! Look at me!” His mad laughter follows you and Sunghoon outside. 

Sunghoon watches you stand on uneasy feet, zoned out staring at the sidewalk. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together that the drunken man was talking about your father. Your father being a reverend who’s not in the picture gave him much to wonder about, but now isn’t the time. He just wanted to get you somewhere away from this memory. 

He crouches down in front of you. You slowly blink back to reality, now looking down at his back. You don’t want to speak so you poke his shoulder in questioning.

“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“What if I’m heavy?” you look at the bags he’s already holding, feeling that you too are a burdened weight he doesn’t need to hold. 

“I’ve got good muscles, remember? Good for farm work,” he’s patient and calm with you while his eyes watch the man from outside the glass cafe windows. “Come on, baby.”

Without thinking, you end up on his back. He carries you on his back, strong arms holding your legs while yours are loosely around his neck. Your insides are a flared up hurricane but at least that allows your body to forget the empty ache you left at the cafe. With your chin hooked over his shoulder, you watch the many people and downtown stores that pass by.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly know where he’s walking, but thinks it’s best to end the day here and return you to the bus stop. He’s never seen that look on your face before—the one you had when the man was loud in your face. He didn’t like it, and he’s sure you hated it. You looked intimidated, or afraid. 

“Would you kill him for me?” you watch the side of his face, “the reverend, I mean.” 

He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back at you, “w-what? I can’t kill someone… and you should joke like that.” he panics, looking around to see if someone was listening to the wild conversation and request.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you,” you look away to hide your smirk, “and only half joking.”

“Did you believe him before?” He starts walking again, but this time at a slower pace knowing the bus stop isn’t too far now. 

“Who? My dad or Our Father?” There’s a use of air quotes at the end of your question. 

“Both?” his head tilts. 

“Neither,” you confirm. There’s a pause for thought and Sunghoon waits for you to further explain. “My relationship with both is too similar. They’ve both known me my whole life, right? Seen all of my wrong doings and in return shown wrath through unnecessary punishments called forgiveness. In what good world is tolerance violent?”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Sometimes, after my mother set the table for dinner, he would knock my plate to the floor. Tell me to eat off the ground like the animal I was or starve.” Sunghoon frowns at this, coming to a slow stop when he sees the bus shelter bench. “Sometimes I had days and nights locked in the barns, but he switched it up to the basement when I was too close with the animals.” You laugh a little, but he senses the pain behind it. “I watched him kill the animals, too, only to smother me in their blood. Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me.”

Sunghoon slowly sets you down to the ground and breathes out your name safely, taking your hands into his. He looks at you with sorrow, like he was the one who endured it with you. 

“God’s orders, am I right? My father, the church goers, speak of God like they’ve seen his face and heard his voice, but they haven’t. I would’ve by now too.” 

If He was really in everything, all around, why did He always turn a blind eye? Why does He pretend to not know you? It only made it harder to believe in—something that would bring you here, torture you then watch you suffer for not living how it pleases. God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion. 

Sunghoon squeezes your hands in his, “I don’t think you should stay there. You never deserved that… even if you’re volatile and strange… because you’re also kind and caring. It’s why I like you. It’s their fault for not seeing that,” he reassures. “I haven’t been through what you have, and I can’t understand. I-I mean I can try to, ya know… it’s not like I’d leave if I didn’t.” His words begin to stumble nervously, not confident in its sympathy reaching you where needed.

You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. “Okay sure whatever, this is really embarrassing now…” You swallow hard and find difficulty in meeting his eyes. 

That’s all that matters, what he said to you, but you didn’t have it in you to say it. He already knows it though, smiling small and holding your hands still. Without words or excessive displays he can still see it in your eyes, the subtle comfort of acceptance. 

He could never blame you for your nature. He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad. Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands. Even more readily, now.

　Even more time has passed since knowing Sunghoon. Summer has never flown by so fast. The calendar doesn’t exist to you anymore. It’s only the days you see him and the days that you don’t. The season will be wrapping up in the next few weeks, but only for him. He has to return to his regular scheduled routine of pursuing education while you will stay here, on the farm. It’s rare for you to feel this emotion: fear. You are scared of losing him. And the concept is something you do your best to avoid thinking about because it makes your skin itch with anxiety. It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out. 

And then an idea hits you. Something far more deep-seated than everything else you’ve done with Sunghoon that would solidify that this summer is real and yours. Something that will always stay; a reminder that good things are possible despite how the world has made you. 

It’s a damn near perfect day. The sun is so bright, and only peers down onto you both through the gaps of the trees. It’s just warm enough. Just quiet enough aside from the sound of Sunghoon’s gentle breathing and natural composition of the nature that surrounds. Rustling of leaves, chirps of birds, and scurrying of whatever life that wishes to not be seen. 

You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. His large knee is affixed to yours. If this was early June, you would have moved away. But now it’s a week into August and you wouldn’t have it anywhere else. Just like you always imagined, and secretly wanted, the view is nicer with someone else. 

He didn’t bother asking why you never brought him here before, or why it is that you chose to now. He’s just happy that you decided to at all. 

You slip a hand into your boot and pull out a pocket knife. You flick it open and do a brief inspection of the cleaned blade. The sun glints off the metal as you turn it. 

“Sunghoon, do you trust me?” 

His eyes flicker from your blank face to the blade. He nods slowly with a swallow, “of course.” There’s a subtle apprehension to him. You hand him the small blade and leave your palm facing up, open to him. 

“Cut a diagonal line down my hand,” you point and draw a line down the middle of your palm. 

“Huh, seriously?” he takes the blade confused and concerned with what you’re asking of him. “Why? I can’t hurt you.”

“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.” 

He struggles to understand the situation, but you’re so serious and clearly waiting for him to do as you asked. He exhales deeply, taking your hand in his while the other holds the knife just above the bared skin. Hesitant and slow, the tip of the knife pressed down into your flesh. You wince a little, which makes him pause. You nod, encouraging him to continue and he does despite hating the act. He slices the palm of your hand open just as you wanted. You hate blood, but it’s not so bad when caused by him.

“Shit, it stings,” you swallow through the pain. The feel of open flesh burning and stinging. “Your turn,” you exhale while taking the knife back with your free, unharmed hand. 

“My turn,” he agrees as if all logic has left him and readily displays his palm to you. Deep down, he feels guilty for hurting you, so to make it even he wants to feel the same.

Just as hesitant and careful, you create a matching wound in his hand. A deep enough, bleeding, lesion in his left hand to match  your right one. He cringes at the sight and the pain before looking back to your face. Your expression is so soft yet attentive, almost awestruck. 

“Even when you hurt me you’re gentle,” he remarks, watching you in amazement with a meek smile. 

“I am not gentle. I have sullied you,” you remind him, your eyes attempt to glare but they’re too bright in his. 

“In the softest way, why?” His voice is delicate and still like the lake that sits before you. You blink slowly at him because there are no words to be found. He continues, “I never thought of you as a bad person,” he pauses as you drop the red stained knife, unsure if he should continue at first but does regardless. “And, uhm, I’ve thought a lot about this summer. What I've learned from you. Purity is constructive—like something made to bring shame.” You don’t move, watching him. “I don’t have to be clean to be good…and your hands never made me dirty. Because they never were either.” 

Like an excavator to your tall, strong built walls Sunghoon has knocked your shield down. The facade of your character is breaking down, crumbling into the broken pieces that made it. A single tear escapes your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s rare for you to cry and you’re disgusted with the reality as to why it’s now that you break. Simply falling apart from kind words. 

You try to use everything in you to ignore the heat in your body, to show the anger you think you’re feeling inside. So your eyes remain sharp and strong, boring into his, as they still water. You swallow the dry lump in your throat and without a word, you take his hand into yours to join in a mix of blood. 

At first, you had one goal; one similar to murder. The sparkle he had in his eyes, you wanted to eat—to make them empty—and see the world ugly and godless like you. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, his eyes shone even brighter. You only wanted to take and take of the innocent boy, but in this moment you realize, maybe I just wanted to give him some of me. 

You wipe the wet drop away from your face with haste, pretending as if it was never there. Whatever blood oath you’re making with Sunghoon allows you to feel something indescribable. You don’t know if it’s deserved, but you smile anyways. Because the indescribable feeling feels like it’s an unknown, unspoken promise. 

He’s seen you smile before with insidious malice, but this time, for the first time, you are really smiling. It’s a raw expression of surfacing emotions, and he returns the emotion like the sun. He thought of you beautiful before but with your brightness finally peering through your clouds, he believes you to be heaven sent. A part of him always wanted to see you cry—usually it was him with tears in his eyes; which is funny, because he wasn’t much of a cryer himself. You just had that way of breaking him down. He knows now he does for you too. And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most. 

His hand squeezes yours tighter, a grip so loving, as you bind in one. Neither of your eyes or smiles leave each other until the bleeding stops. 

　A week later, Sunghoon asks you on a date. The summer fair is in town. It’s something like a festival where all the locals from towns around the city come to visit and join in on festivities from carnival games, rides, food, and uncommon entertainments. You think of being mean, denying him the acceptance of the date, but you have always wanted to go. So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded. 

The evening sky is a watercolor of warm tones as the sun begins to lay down for the night. The bright lights of the fair illuminate the large open field turned carnival. There’s a sea of people here tonight, and although it makes you nervous inside, having Sunghoon by your side makes the ordeal easier to handle. 

The line for the ticket booth is lengthy but it passes by. You approach the booth, standing a little behind Sunghoon who takes out his wallet to buy your entrance wristband passes and tickets. You look around at the many people: families, friends, and couples, all immersed in their own experience as the music and sounds blend in the background of conversations. 

“Oh wow! You’re really handsome,” the girl at the ticket booth gawks at Sunghoon. She straightens her posture and fixes her hair from her face, “one ticke-?”

Catching this, you step forward and snatch Sunghoon’s wallet from his hands, “he already knows that. Do your job or I’ll feed you to pigs.” You slap the cash amount for what you need down onto the table top with a straight face and mean eyes. 

Her eyes go wide and she hushes an apology, quickly giving you both wristbands and tickets for the evening. She even threw in extra tickets as you stared her down. 

Sunghoon watches you with a flushed face, even the tips of his ears burn red at your jealous threat. You both walk off into the fair, a sheepish smile on his face as he leads you through the crowd with an arm wrapped around your back and hand to your waist. 

“Was that one of your jokes too?” he grins down at you.

“Nope,” you glance at him with a small smile. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment, but it was something internally deep, and territorial. An innate reaction to someone trying to appeal to something that belongs to you. It felt ugly and you didn’t like it. 

The idea that he could possibly be taken from you was a phenomenon you’ve thought of for a while now. Knowing he has an existing life outside you, outside of this summer, that he would return you made you sick. You’re far from perfect, or the right thing for him, and he could find a safer option if he ever pleased. Pushing the thoughts away is harder than you imagine, so you cling to his side even more. 

You and Sunghoon use up your spare tickets for carnival games. You toss rings around bottles, shoot water guns into the mouth of a clown frame, and throw darts at balloons. The both of you aren’t very skilled at any of the games, but it's fun enough to enjoy the time without winning a prize to show for it. 

Eventually, Sunghoon does find frustration within the ‘rigged’ set up of the games. He even pulls out his wallet for cash when the tickets are gone. You’re surprised at how competitive he is; his determined nature is something that stirs your insides around. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so much in your life. 

After 3 rounds of throwing a ball to knock over a moving target, he does manage to win. Going 3 for 3 and not missing a single shot. The excitement you feel when he succeeds takes over and you’re proud, doing little jumps in place and clapping your hands together. 

“You did it! You won!” you exclaim, hugging onto his side. 

He can only smile down at your joyfulness. A fire burns in his heart and he hugs you back, kissing your forehead. “All for you. Which prize do you want?” 

“It’s yours, you should pick it,” you blush, elbowing his side with a shy smile while your eyes keep looking up to the stuffed white lamb with a lace ribbon around its neck and a cushion gold bell adoring the throat. 

Of course, that’s the prize he ends up choosing. It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer. 

The stuffed animal never leaves your hold throughout the rest of the evening. It rides the many rides you and Sunghoon do. And sits at the picnic table with you both as you share fair snacks. Popcorn and cotton candy was never so sweet for either of you. Like contentment melting on your tongues. 

Cliche as ever, Sunghoon wants to end the night there with a round on the ferris wheel. The line moves quickly and when it’s your turn to step into the carriage, he takes your hand and sits you down the seat next to him. 

It moves slowly and rocks back and forth with shaky movements that have you gripping the side handles. With an arm around your shoulder, he holds you close to him. The array of flickering colorful lights and people below you feels almost magical. 

Taking your eyes from the heightened difference between you and the ground, you look back to the boy beside you who is already looking at you. The reflection of rainbow luminescence glistens in his eyes. It’s even prettier than the view from the top of the little world you’re in. You give him a shy smile, finding it impossible to look away. 

He says your name in a whisper, taking your chin between your fingers. “Thank you for choosing to let me in.” 

Confused and wide eyed, you watch him lean into your face. You gasp when his lips meet yours before returning the notion. With eyes closed, you melt into his kiss. It’s sweet as all the things you’ve experienced today because of him. 

It’s also as clumsy and messy as a kiss can be for two people who’ve never done so before. However, human nature and desire take over and ease the rest for you both. Lips move over another in a gentle waltz, careful and slow. 

And as if the situation couldn’t get anymore cliche, fireworks light up the sky. At first you thought it was just your imagination and all the books you’ve read flooding your consciousness, but the booming sounds and cheers of the crowd are too loud to not be real. 

You pull away from him first, and he’s already wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you can’t help but roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back at him. Your face burns in both embarrassment and adrenaline from the kiss. 

After that, you don’t leave the city like you should. The bus takes you both back downtown but neither you or Sunghoon feel it’s time for goodbye. So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. You’ve never been to anybody else's home before, and it’s nerve wracking to say the least. The complex is large and somewhat modern, housing many of the second and third year private college students.

When you step inside, it’s quite plain but at least clean. You’re immediately greeted by a boy shorter than Sunghoon. He has a big mouth smile and shining dark eyes. His hair is shaggy but it suits him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. You shift yourself behind Sunghoon and hold onto his shirt, hiding slightly from the excited puppy-like roommate. 

“How did it go? Oh, and nice to finally meet you,” he rambles out quickly, “I’m Jake. The best friend and roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shoots Sunghoon a wink before grinning back at you. He extends a hand for you to shake but you don’t reach out. Something about his eyes doesn’t sit right with you. 

“She’s shy,” Sunghoon laughs a little as he guides you past Jake and towards his room. “It was fun though. I recommend going before it’s gone.”

“Ah, you got yourself a nice little angel, huh?” Jake leans over the kitchen island, watching you both. His smile falters. “I’ll have one of my own some day.” For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.

Sunghoon laughs his comment off and tells Jake goodnight before showing you to his room. His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be. A bed, desk, dresser, closet, and bathroom. One poster of a musician you’ve never listened to and a window with unopened blinds. 

You sit yourself at the end of his bed and he sits down next to you. There’s some awkward silence as you look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to do. He feels similarly to your internal dilemma. 

“I-I’ve never had-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. Of course he’s never had a girl over. And of course you’ve never been over to a boys house. 

“Are you tired?” he asks, and you lie by nodding your head. So you both get ready for bed. He gives you a shirt to borrow for bed that change into in his bathroom while he changes into sweats and a t-shirt in his room. 

In minutes you’re both laying in his bed under the covers and staring up at his ceiling in the dark room. Not a word is said as you both lay there wide awake and untouching. But you know he’s wanting to by the way his body is shifting and turning, inching closer with every minute movement. 

And before you know it, although expected, his body is nestled closely to yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. For the most part, he usually does keep his space. Knowing how you are when it comes to physical touch that feels too sudden or invading. But with barriers breaking down more over time, he thinks you’re learning to handle the comfort better. 

“I thought you were tired?” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. His hands trace up and down your arms that are wrapped around yourself like a guard. 

“I lied,” you whisper. Your eyes can’t look at him yet, so they remain aimless to the ceiling. Some moonlight slips through his cracked window blinds, giving you enough view of the spinning ceiling fan. 

“I had fun today. Mostly because you did. I like seeing you happy,” he smiles after kissing your shoulder that’s exposed in the neckline of his shirt too big for you. “And… I liked when you kissed me back,” his voice is quiet and shy-like. 

“Do you want to do it again?” Your eyes shift to him and you can barely see the warm flush to his cheeks. He’s cute. 

Taken aback at first, he just blinks at you with a parted mouth. Then he nods his head slowly, licking over his lips. 

You turn over onto your side to face him and his hands don’t leave your waist. Unsure of what to do with your own, you wrap them around his neck. Good thing they sit behind him and it’s dark in the room because it would kill you for him to notice the slight tremor in your fingers. 

With a scarily racing heart and stiff, trembling body you surge forward to kiss him. His lips are quick to capture yours. Soft and pillow-like, they mold into yours in waves. What starts off as clumsy and unskilled turns into hunger. Something desperate and needy. His grip feels bruising to your hips but in a nice way. In a way you want it to hurt more. 

His nails digging further into your flesh to keep you impossibly close make your lips gasp, or maybe it’s the lack of air, or just both. And instinctively his tongue is licking its way past your lips and into your mouth. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His wet tongue drags over yours, and your teeth, then as far as it can inside of you. He whimpers, pressing his already hard cock to you as he licks and kisses you open. 

Your stomach has never burned this way before, and you feel the hot sensation all over then down to your core that aches like it’s hungry too. You feel disgusted by yourself but can’t fight the hum you make as you devour him right back. You’re getting wetter every second he’s in your mouth. 

This time, he pulls away first. Panting for air and staring at you with glazed over dark eyes. He licks over his wet lips again, savoring the taste of you on himself. He bites down onto it and a part of you wishes it was you he sunk his teeth in. 

“Can I do what I did last time?” he breathes out, his hips involuntarily jerking up against you at the thought alone. 

While trying to act like you’re not catching your breath too, you say quietly, “do whatever you want.” 

He kisses you again but with more desperation. You try to do the same but you can feel your heart and your head preparing for battle. The way he’s feeling you up and grinding himself on you is in no way unwanted, and that’s part of the reason you’re struggling to maintain presence. 

It’s so much happening so quickly, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine this happening eventually. Sex was inevitable. The way his body yearns to be one with yours makes you feel special almost. He’s already engraved into you but in his mind he has to be inside of you and it hurts so badly how you think the same. 

But is the last thing that keeps him pure really yours to take? You’ve stripped so much away from him for all the wrong reasons before and now it feels strange. You are no good and that’s all he is. 

The only thing keeping you here, in the moment, is him. His exploratory and gentle yet rough hands, his body grinding into you, his lips that can’t leave yours or your skin for even a second, and the weak wanting sounds that leave them. 

“I need more, please. I want- I need to feel good with you. Please,” he’s whining into your ear. Then pressing kisses along your jaw and neck that are all so tender, slow, and deliberate. Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person. 

Your still shaking hand reaches down between your two bodies and slips past his sweats. He had the nerve to go commando and you wish you could tease him, but you can’t. You’re lucky you’re even here right now and breathing his air. Your hand wraps around his aching length and gives him a few tugs to which he’s quick to moan. He kicks off his sweatpants while you bring him closer to you. The plush of your thighs trap him; he whimpers against the soft heat of your flesh. 

Your hips grind up into him once, showing him what he should do too. He’s slow to start, rocking himself between your thighs. Slutty and hopeless sounds leave him in a string of his want. His leaking hard cock is so close to your core. Only the thin layer of your underwear keeps him from feeling your clear need for him too. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, you bury your head to his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his aching desire rubbing and grinding against you. It makes you shiver in sensitivity and cower further into his neck. You don’t bite down onto your lip, but his neck. There’s a sting to your eyes because you hate it—the wet warmth that pools out of you. Your sin sticks to your underwear and your skin like the red raining life of all the animals you made leave the earth; your haunting subconscious correlates with your growing pleasure. 

You know you’re not religious yet every time Sunghoon touches you there’s a divinity to it and it makes your hands want to join in prayer to thank the universe for sending someone like him to you. Because his hands roam your body as if they have in every world; as if there is not one timeline where you have not been made for him. Like you were carved from his rib every time. 

Your body smolders in that angry way it always did whenever Sunghoon got too close to you. Whenever his words were too kind, his touch too gentle, or god forbid when he just smiled at you. That fire is just the divine nature of your relationship, lighting up everywhere he touches and leaving flames in the wake. You thought it was your body rejecting his purity, but you were only denying the likeness. He made you feel good. And in the most ironic way possible. You just didn’t think you deserved it. 

Yet an anguished moan leaves you, rumbling against his skin as you bite down harder. Regardless of it all, he is yours right now. 

The feeling of your sinking teeth in him, the sounds you’re now making, and the damp heat between your legs he can’t stop chasing all makes his head spin. He bites down onto you just the same and it only makes you moan louder. 

“Please,” he’s whining again through the bite. His voice a needy tremble while his hips stutter and thrust between your legs that only squeeze tighter together. The way the fat of your legs hug his raging cock through his desperate grinds makes him chase more and more for that feeling he just can’t seem to reach. The crying tip kisses and pushes up then past your leaking folds every time. It drives you both insane. 

If your body is the fiery lake of creation's deepest pit, then he is the cleanest ocean of earth’s highest point. If anyone could extinguish you, and possibly make you feel whole, it was Sunghoon. 

This is the most horrifying reality you’ve come face to face with. Not just intimacy, but a stronger driving emotion. You have to open yourself, rip open your chest and bare your beating heart in all its naked vulnerability. Let it scream out I like being with you. You have allowed this person into your world that nobody else has dared to step foot in. To see you in such ugly ways yet still extend their arms for you. It’s a terrifying level of closeness that you’ve never once experienced and you don’t know what to do with. You’re beyond perplexed by what he’s done to you, in both terror and awe.  

You pull back from Sunghoon and he pauses everything for a moment to look at you, noticing your wet eyes. Before he can ask what’s wrong you reach down and slip off your underwear. You shift your body and maneuver him as best you can until he’s on top of you. Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same. 

You take a deep breath and reach back down to his cock, lining it up with your pussy. You blink and swallow away all the things trying to stop you from allowing yourself him. Pliant beneath him, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to you for a quick kiss. Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.” 

Sunghoon only smiles down at you before kissing you once more. With his arms caged around you, he slowly pushes himself forward. The fat tip of his cock fails to go through you, only sliding up and past the wet folds. He whines feeling the warm slick coat the head; his entire body shudders. He nearly cums from that alone. 

He looks at you confused, and nod once while trying to shift your hips around for a better angle. It’s not like you to be so quiet during things like this. It only tells him that for once, you’re nervous about new things the way he was. 

So he tries again, this time a little rougher. He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pushing past the tight walls but still barely in. You whimper at the intrusion and the feeling of you being stretched open. Your hands squeeze hold onto his biceps for purchase. 

The tight sensation of your pussy squeezing his tip feels otherworldly to him. He can’t help but need to sink deeper into you. His cock pushes in further at an agonizing pace until he’s as deep as he can possibly go. His arms shake while he tries to maintain his strength and keep himself from collapsing onto you completely. The wet walls that surround him flutter and try to pull him further inside, making him feel lightheaded. His moans are so needy it’s almost like he’s crying from the feeling. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whimper. Having Sunghoon completely inside of you feels so full. You’re stuffed with him and it hurts so good. “You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”

“You're so tight, mm.” His hips stutter from your words alone and he whimpers again. He pulls himself out halfway while your gummy walls kiss around him in an attempt to suck him back to be filled again. He begins to rock himself in and out of you. It’s inexperienced and awkward, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Doing what feels best for him and what seems to be the best for you too. 

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. It all burns while feeling like heaven. Never have you been so full, held so gently, or seen than this summer. You bite back the breaking moans and whimpers. You claw at his skin. You even begin to cry when your hips can’t stop chasing his thrusts. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back. A kiss is pressed to your forehead as his cock pistons you. Sunghoon is smart enough to know you’re a liar. Your mean words that used to hurt him, he now understands. You’re not really a bad person. And you don’t hate him. You were just really damaged and if he’s damned for trying to heal that then he’s fine with that too. 

“I mean it,” your body shudders, feeling his tip pound so far and deep in places inside you that you didn’t know reachable. His fat cock drags out and forces through your tight hole, making you cream all over him more and more. The sounds that leave your body, the sounds your bodies are making, it’s so obscene. Fighting off the disgust and focusing on how he makes you feel is war. It’s so hard for you to win. 

“No you don’t,” he shifts himself to sit on his knees, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He leans forward and kisses both of your cheeks before fucking himself into you again, only harder and faster than before. 

“Ngh,” you moan again through broken sobs, blinking away the tears as you stare up at him. “I’m t-trying to.” 

“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. “It’s okay, haah, don’t cry. You’re good. You’re so good for me,” he says against your wet lips. You can only sniffle and try to turn your head away from him in your embarrassment. “No, no.” he takes your chin with his thumb and finger, forcing you to look back at him. His thrusts never letting up during his care. “Look at me. You’re so good to me.” He reminds you over and over. “We’re so good together. I’m yours. you’re mine.” 

“Say it again,” you sniffle through little sounds of sin. Your hand finds a place on his cheek, and your thumb rubs over his lips that wear a smile. 

“You’re so good, good for me. We are so good together. I am yours. And you are mine,” he says softly. His eyes are so filled with love, and if you could see your reflection in his then you would know yours are too. “Say you’re good, baby, it’s okay.”

“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.”

To Sunghoon, the idea of sex was always sacred. Something that’s only done and shared between lovers bound by marriage of the church. But now, he thinks differently. He knows that there is no shame in him loving you now or years later. And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too. 

　Perhaps there was a thing such as divine intervention and if God’s timing was alway right, he knew how to be evil with it too. Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker. 

Your mother, aware of the frequent trips you’ve been making and how close you’ve grown to the summer farmhand boy, is quick to make a call to your father the night you don’t return home. It wasn’t necessarily because she cared for your well being. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. But it was an excuse to try and get him to come back. Only it doesn’t go how she wanted.

When you see the reverend’s car parked in front of your house, your heart drops. Sunghoon picks up on your tension, He sees how you go blank at the sight and slowly turn back into the empty girl he met months ago. He tries to hold your hand but your fingers can’t move, can’t return the embrace. 

When the reverend walks out of the house with his infamous weapon of sacrificial forgiveness, you know what to do. Your body moves on its own, leaving Sunghoon to reach out for you that walks towards the woods. He goes to follow you and the desolate man that stalks behind, but your mother stops him. She’s hysterical as she drags him towards your house saying, “it’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying. 

Once out of their sight, the reverend takes you by the hair. He yanks your head around, pulling you towards that cursed tree. He’s uncharacteristically rough and your scalp screams for a release but you don’t show it. You don’t even look at the man. Not even when he’s tossing your body to the ground. 

“So you’re whoring around with my employees now, huh? Was ruining this farm not enough for you?” His words mean nothing to you. You dust off the dirt and go to stand again, but he kicks you back down. You tsk under your breath as he speaks again, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done. Seen you leave my barns with red hands and smile. Cut heads off chickens like an anatomy project. Is he next? That church boy?” 

Now you look up to glare at him. Seeing the reverend was aggravating enough, but to say something about Sunghoon was infuriating to you. “I am not a killer. You are! And those animals were already dead.” You spit at his black leather church shoes. 

“Oh, you disgusting little devient,” he laughs lowly, untying the rope from the tree. “Your cruelty shouldn’t bring you joy. Sick and twisted, I should’ve dealt with you sooner regardless of what your drunk bitch mother protested. I can save the boy when you’re gone.” 

“What?” you shuffle backwards from him, angry and confused as he stalks closer to you until you’re backed against the tree. “All those things I did was because of you. Your righteousness made me rotten!” Your hands shake, gripping at the dirt ground for anything to make the fear stop. You glance up to the empty tree branch then the rope in his hands. Where is the lamb? You think briefly before it hits you. “You’re crazy,” you whisper, “I will not be your martyr… not now what I’m finally-”

“Condemn me to Hell for all I care,” he crouches down in front of you, “This is the last time I’ll be a killer.” He throws the rope to your lap and tells you to tether yourself. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words scratch at your throat. When you were younger, you did want the reverend to hate you. It was when he noticed you most, and it’s all you really knew. But now you’re older, and his disdain never made sense. 

You can’t bring yourself to move even if you wanted to. Was this His plan? To allow you one good thing in life before ending it? Was ruining Sunghoon your final sin? 

The rope shakes with your fingers as you stare down at it. The twine of the rope burns over the palm of your hand where Sunghoon carved his promise. Your throat feels dry, tight and suffocating; choking on everything you’ve ever done. And your eyes still puffy from the night before well with tears all over again. 

“I just do,” he thinks of slicing your neck open right there. So fuck tying you down, you were always secretly another lamb anyways. He raises his knife and the metal sits cold under your chin as he lifts your head up to look back at him. 

“Okay…” you swallow. 

Your eyes squeeze shut and so does your mouth, as you raise your head to the sky with an exposed throat. Why isn’t this easy? Unlike the animals, you do know what’s coming. And it’s scary. Scary not because of death, but because you aren’t ready. You haven’t told Sunghoon goodbye or that you love him back. And the thought of him finding something in this world to hate, is such an ugly feeling to die with. 

And then there’s a loud noise. A booming bang, followed by unsteady feet falling back and the ground rumbling with a thud. 

You open your eyes and your father is on his back clutching his abdomen. He coughs and gasps before raising his hand. It’s dripping in deep red. And you can’t help but smile with tears in your eyes as you exhale a jagged breath.

You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed. 

“Sunghoon!” you scramble to your feet and run over to him, taking the gun from his hands as he’s frozen in shock. 

“H-he was going to- he was about to hurt you. I had to-!” he stutters, his eyes already crying and hands shaking, still feeling the weight and recoil of the gun. 

“It’s okay,” you coo softly. “Just- go back to the house and I’ll be right there, okay?” You rush out. Still in shock and dazed, he blindly trusts you and does as you say. 

When he’s no longer close by, you walk over to the reverend with a blank face. You stare down at him as he tries to crawl away, dirty and bleeding. The smile you make doesn’t reach your eyes. 

You point the gun back down at him, and place your foot over the shot wound Sunghoon created. The man gasps and tries to swat at your leg but you only press the gun further into his face, making him surrender. 

“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your voice is quiet, calm, and mocking of his tone. With the barrel to his forehead, you watch him writhe in pain and cough up a little blood. 

“Go to Hell,” he spits his words like venom. 

“If you say it, I’ll let you live. But if you show your face to me or Sunghoon again, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.” Your foot presses down harder. You can feel that angry little girl inside of you jumping with joy.. Knowing his God demands to be bled for, and making him know the sacrificial suffering, well it feels good to say the least. “Say it. With me. Now.” Each word pronounced with the growing applied pressure to his shot wound. And then he begs for forgiveness. He’s never seen you smile the way you did when he was below you with those words. Empty eyes were never so alive for him either. He cries and chants ‘I know no punishment, only mercy’ over and over. It was like the most beautiful hymn.

　There wasn’t much to be said about that day. Sunghoon and you just pretend you shared a nightmare. Neither of you talked about it. It was just another thing that tied you together. 

Sitting there in the peak of summer’s heat. A day before Sunghoon returns to college classes. Birds chirp. The leaves of the tall trees thistle in the light breezes that pass by. Sunghoon sits criss crossed and while you have your feet hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking in the water. 

“I’m sorry,” you break the silence. Shocked, he looks over to you. He never would have expected you to apologize for anything. “I was selfish when I approached you. I wanted to take all that goodness out of you and keep it for myself. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but after sharing all this time with you, I realized I was wrong. It’s weird to say it out loud,” you laugh small, awkward, “but I really am sorry. I love you more than even I know.” You stare down to your feet in the water that has gone still. A tear falls from your eye, and down to your cheek. 

“I know. I love you too,” he wraps an arm around your waist. “But now the same sins bind us.” You hiccup silently and turn to look up at him. “Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.” 

For the first time, you really laugh. It’s bright and loud like the big smile he’s seeing for the first time on his favorite face. It’s morning sunlight that whispers through trees to kiss the forest floor. Birds that sing songs of hope to awake life into a new day. Nostalgic, expansive days of childhood where the concept of time doesn’t exist. To him, you look like the epitome of summer; he doesn’t want this season to end. 

You were never the lamb. Or the wolf. Not an animal at all. Nothing like the ones you grew up with. You were just a girl, scared and alone. But not anymore. Because it’s your last day on this farm, and tomorrow is the first with only Sunghoon. 

“Your humor is poetry.” you continue to laugh until tears prick your eyes all over again. You love it. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny.” he looks away shyly, blushing. It only makes your giggle more, but you stop to press a kiss to his cheek. He blushes harder. 

“I’ll keep doing it, harvesting all of your purity, for as long as you’re good.” you say with a smile. 

“Do you promise? I am always good, especially with you, so it could be a long while.” He bumps your shoulder playfully with a laugh. 

You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.”

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ tysm for reading, ⌗unlearn shame ⌇ taglist @tinycatharsis @simjaexy @leehsngs @511rkive @beomluvrr @jjongsaengzz @slvtella @jaerisdiction @kkamismom12 @rayofsunshineeee @nshmrarki @m3wkledreamy @hanjisbeloved @filmnings @stercul1a @hooniesfvngs @moriwori @sleepyhoon

[harrysfolklore]

husband and wife - harry blurb

those harry pics gave me major new husband!harry vibes so here we are, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

The Caribbean sun, the man you loved and your friends. There was definitely no better way to start the year.

In good old fashion, you decided to travel down to Anguilla for New Years, just like you did back in 2019 and it ended up being one of your best trips ever.

You were soaking up some sun, laying comfortable on a beach chair and occasionally sipping on the fruity drink Harry provided for you earlier, totally blissful as you enjoyed the moment.

That was until a muscular body that you knew too well blocked the sun for you.

“Enjoying yourself, gorgeous?” Harry asked, in his shirtless glory and wearing just some black swimming trucks.

“I was a few seconds ago,” you teased, “You know, before someone interrupted me.”

“Heyyyyy,” he used his topical fake hurt voice, “That’s not a nice way to talk to your husband.”

You smiled at this, feeling butterflies on your stomach as he called himself your husband.

It happened after the end of the tour and before his infamous haircut. Your weeding took place on your Italy villa and all your close friends and family were there to celebrate your love. It was a beautiful and intimate ceremony that everyone always would hold close to their hearts.

The public and fans still had no idea about it and you loved how much you were enjoying your marriage with that kind of privacy.

“That’s right, you’re my husband now,” you said as Harry squeezed himself next to you on the beach chair, “I can’t bully you like I used to.”

“Mr and Mrs Styles, come join us!” Jeff’s voice interrupted was Harry was about to reply and made you turn your heads his way, noticing that your friends were gathering around to watch the sunset.

“I think we’re good mate,” Harry replied sassily, “Don’t feel like sharing my wife right now.”

Your friends laughed at this, yelling some stuff like “you’re whipped!” and “she must be sick of you.

“You’re mean to them.” You joked, closing your eyes and leaning into him, feeling his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“They deserve it, they haven’t let me be alone with you all day,” he shrugged, making you roll your eyes and look up at him, holding his jaw and rubbing the stubbled skin of his chin, “Besides, an I mean for wanting to love on my wife?”

“You’re not,” you said, grazing his bottom lip with a smile on your face, “You drive your wife absolute mad.”

Harry smirked, throwing his head back at your words and grabbing your chin to kiss your lips.

“I love to hear you call yourself my wife,” he smiled widely, his eyes full of love and glee, “I still can’t believe we’re married, It’s the best thing that happened this year.”

You only smiled, connecting your lips again before Jeff’s voice interrupted you one more time,

“Seriously lovebirds, get in here. You already had your honeymoon!”

Harry groaned as he let go of your lips, standing up and facing your friends.

“Fine, we’ll join you,” he grabbed your hand to walk towards them, “Don’t you hate when lonely people ruin the moment for happy couples?” Harry said to you, making the entire group laugh.

“We’re literally married!” Glenne said, pointed to herself and Jeff.

Harry only shrugged with a smug face, sitting down beside Tommy and pulling you to his lap, laying his chin on your shoulder.

The sun sank lower, painting the sky pink and golden. Harry's arm was around your around your waist and he occasionally placed kisses on your shoulder as you engaged in conversation with your friends.

"This is perfect." You leaned back into him, whispering so only he could hear him, his heartbeat steady against your back and his breath hitting your neck.

"Absolutely perfect," Harry whispered back in agreement, his lips grazing your skin as he nestled closer.

You were starting the year at one of your favorite places, surrounded by your friends and as husband and wife, and you couldn't wait to see what 2024 had in store for your perfect life together

[nerdlvr]

dreamies if they weren’t idols ~*

this is all imaginary stuff from my imagination , i went by some of the things they're mentioned irl but idk i kinda let my imagination run wild LMAO , requested here !

mark , by the age of 31 he's a children's book author with a happy family

being artistic in that way is just something that comes natural to mark. i specifically think he'd write children's books or those adventure novels cause his imagination is just so grand, he has so much material to just write hundreds of pages of whatever he's imagining. considering his age and religion as well i truly think he'd at least be married at this point, kids being a big thing he's planning on soon! his lockscreen is a pic of his partner and kid, he's so full of love in the life he's living. ~* didn't finish college but majored in english , living in canada

renjun , by the age of 30 he's a small business owner who is actively dating

i genuinely think renjun would own like a little art business selling art supplies and little pieces he's created. Whether it's clay, paint, or markers renjun is good at using and selling them. I think romantically he'd do a lot of dating I don't know why by I feel like men or woman he's likes the feeling of getting some loving, he'd settle down eventually but he likes to date all different types of people before landing on the one. renjun's life is full of color and that gives him peace. ~* got a masters in art for fun , living in china

jeno , by the age of 30 he's working on cars and thinking about marriage

anything that has to do with cars, whether it's auto repair, design, engineering he's just into cars. i feel like he'd enjoy learning all about cars so that he's able to work with them in every way. he's the guy they always call at the auto shop because he knows everything. lets be real... jeno is hot as fuck and there's no way he'd be single by 30. I think he's the type to wait for a deepened bond in order to consider marriage and by 30 i think he'll finally feel ready to give it his all. loves his girl and his cars and nothing makes him happier than when they're together. is the type to let his partner decorate their passenger side. ~* did trade school for auto engineering , living in korea

haechan , by 30 is a pretty house husband with kids

idc. haechan loves kids and he wants to get on that asap. it took him a while to find the one (i think he's super picky) but when he found them that was it for him. he'd find any possible way to get as many kids as he can in a short period of time, but because of his partner he stopped at 3 kids LMAO. i think he'd be content with the feeling of being a caregiver and he gives sugar baby vibes srry. but he always has dinner ready, the house cleaned, and the babies showered. he loves that he gets to show his love for his partner in that way and at the same time have free time i follow any hobby he chooses. is the designated parent to sing the lullabies ofc. ~* didn't finish college cause he had a kid , was majoring in music theory , living in korea

jaemin , by 30 he's dr. na the cat dad

i think that jaemin is super flirty and romantic but i don't think he's seriously considering a family yet. he's taken a lot of his youth studying for his career so he's built more bonds as friendships instead of romantic ones. he's literally dr. dreamy and all the nurses are in love with him, but he's more than happy going home to his baby kitties. he does have close friends though that keep an eye on him because he's the type to really get into his work and just lose himself and go MIA. it's a hard life but jaemin is content with the fruits of his labor. ~* got a medical degree and did his residency to be a surgeon , living in korea

chenle , by 29 he's a sports media manager in love with the game (ifykwim)

i think chenle loves basketball but going pro didn't really work out with him, so i feel like he'd turn to media management, loving the idea of being with the team and campaigning for his favorite team. he's bossy and he runs the place so the players take him seriously, maybe even sometimes more than their coach. romantically i genuinely think chenle is a little shit. everyone wants him (insane face card) but he likes the game, being with one or the another to have some fun, but by 29 i don't think he's looking to fully commit. ~* double majored in communications and management , lives in the states maybe somewhere hot

jisung, by 28 he's on his way to the moon !

he's finally gotten his astronaut certification and he's so ready to get to work. he literally cried every year studying late nights and training for his job but when he puts on his suit it is so worth it. he definitely needed a push to get through the 10 years of becoming an astronaut and he got that push from his very special partner. he met them at the start of college and it has just been a sweet romance since. every time he wanted to give up they were there to remind him everything he worked for. can he bring his partner to the moon to propose? ~* has a masters degree in a random science major and 2 years of an internship , went to d.c to be with NASA, misses his mom but is now known as andy.

[atropinenightshade]

Do you have a favorite trope/device? A favorite type of ending? Or a favorite archetype?

Ooo interesting ask!

I think some favorite tropes are marriage of convenience (or inconvenience in some cases)/arranged marriage as long as the development is done right and there is no major power imbalance or anything. Honestly, it's probably the one of the only tropes I would read a romance book for. (But also it needs to have plot) Another thing I love is when the story tricks you and everything you thought was real was a lie, but again it has to be done really well, because wasted potential (like Fall) just sucks. One good example of that is Caraval. I enjoy themes of poisoning and murder mystery and anything that has a supernatural or paranormal vibe to it. Gods/power vs mortals with the mortals learning how to survive and flip off these powerful beings, humanity for the win! Enemies to lovers but well-developed and not just a copy of a copy. I know there are iconic couples people try to get inspired from but sometimes it feels unoriginal.

I like cases where the protagonist tries to help but ends up being tone deaf at times and makes things worse? The example that comes to mind right now is not a book, but a movie.

Feminine characters that are not airheads, weak, or hated by the "I'm not like other girls" MC. Actually, let's have girls and women supporting each other. It makes stories less infuriating to read. Also men who are attractive by personality or energy and NOT by constant depiction of his abs or whatever like it's getting so OLD. And maybe move on from blonds for a little.

Found family or a familial relationship that isn't blood based like adoption.

Reincarnation (whether there's second chance love involved, well, as with all second chances it has to be written good enough) or spirits guiding their loved ones!

My favorite endings are bittersweet endings where it isn't fully happy but not excruciatingly sad either. (I mean I love tragic endings though but happy endings get old) Something with a touch of realism for the characters or a believable state of mind.

Archetypes? Hmm probably Mentors, Mother's, Rulers, Villains, Rebels and Tricksters. (If this is the character type meant)

Thanks for the ask! Any questions or further asks are welcome!

[changbinsboobs]

Changbin as husband is next I'm curious for his and hyunjinss

This is the longest fucking reading I've ever had so i just HAD to split it in 2 parts so bear with me. I love him but i hate him right now😩 (no i don't)

Husband Series: Changbin pt. 1

Ugh...that guy🫠 i bet you if i let him use up my whole deck he would. The amount of "ok last card" i had to say...and yet there was still so much gushing put...and ugh, i just can't stress enough how much into details he is and how much he wants to stress on them and make sure they don't go unnoticed or get misunderstood or overlooked. Reminds me so much of my audhd friend😭. Anyways back on track - tho i don't even know where to begin from, i really think he used up half my deck. I just counted 23 cards😳 i do indeed draw a lot for the others too but thats just next level. Not on topic but i think he's a really chatty drunk😂 now i wanna read on them when drunk🙌🏻😂

Ok soooo since i have so many cards ill try to combine them as much as i can and keep the messages as concise as possible so this post doesn't become a novel - the overall energy i noticed here is not so much emphasis on him as a husband but overall him as a partner in a committed relationship. Which leads me to believe he himself doesn't view marriage with such dread as the others did (there wasn't really any dread with felix bust still a certain anxiety around responsibilities, meanwhile that with changbin is absolutely nonexistent). I would say he seems himself as capable and even ready to take on that responsibility and role if the opportunity presents itself and i think he believes he'll do a good job. He's responsible, capable and can take care of it. I actually sense a feeling of pride in him about that.

Another MAJOR theme is him being a "simp" for his partner (he insists on wife). There are many cards that im trying to sum up:

He's very protective over her and doesn't let anyone say shit about her, he's giving me guard dog vibes. Also a big bodyguardy. I can see him when being out with her eyeing people and being on alert and just idk, looking scary as to scare of any weirdos before they even think about trying something. And to clear any misunderstandings up, im really not getting this coming from jealousy (not that its not there, it is😂, but its just 10% reason, out of 100), but rather because he wants the woman he loves to feel safe and protected around him. He wants her to be able to relax and trust that he will always have her back and keep her safe. He wants her pretty little witty head not to be bothered by ANYTHING!

More from the simpy train - looks up to her a lot and kinda puts her a bit on a pedestal. This is not a very debilitating energy but feels rather like something he has made peace with and accepts - which is that she is indeed better than him and he can never be able to reach her, which means he is incredibly lucky and appreciative of the fact a woman like that has chosen him and he tries whatever he can to live up to her standard and continue to give her reasons to stay with him and continue to love him. Although she can never love him as much as he does (thats his thought🥲). But as i said this doesn't feel victimy to me at all but rather just seems realistic to him and he's a big boy and can accept reality for what it is and choose to feel lucky instead of beating himself up for not being good enough and self sabotage. Im actually really shocked looking at his energy because i can really feel the strength of his mind and ughh just how innovative and flexible he is. His will is just astounding and making me really happy, despite him obviously having some issues he doesn't let himself be defined by it and chooses to spin them to him favor. What an amazing guy💗

Back to the reading - so he spends a lot of time in his head, doing A LOT of 2 things. One is being thinking of his girl and what he can do to make her happy, analyzing previous conversations to see if he missed something or if he has remembered everything. Contemplating if she maybe gave him a hint about something, or if she maybe looked hesitant with something. Maybe her body language was off? He notes that. If there was any difference in her behaviour today, if she looked different. He's really putting LOTS of energy thinking about her and analyzing her and her behaviour. Again this doesn't seem to come from distrust (although he thinks of that as well, its just not his motivator, he just considers everything, thats why) but rather for his own feeling of safety. I think he is a very thoughtful and analyzing and sensitive person in nature so this may be something he always does, except when its something very important to him, and a relationship at that - he does it even more intensely. He doesn't only think about and analyze her tho. He does that to him too, to their relationship as well. He just wants to have a good understanding and overview of everything that is happening in the relationship so he has a sense of control and safety. You can always fix something if you know its broken. Or beginning to bend. You can fix the problem before the branch brakes i think is what he wants to say. And he wants things to run as smoothly as possible with them, and once again he has taken on the responsibility to make his girls life as easy and carefree as possible and how can that happen if he leaves the whole relationship in her hands?! He can't, so he doesn't his part very diligently and tries to keep up on the same level as her, emotional-intelligence-wise.

He also doesn't to just thinking but planing & organizing. So i think he takes lots of care for other stuff too like planing and booking fun dates. If he cant attend then books fun stuff for her. Provide her with the needed tools/means for her to be able to create, to indulge in her hobbies. He really loves that feminine creator energy and really wants to do his best to encourage and provide an encouraging environment for his wife to get in her feminine creator energy and bring him joy with it. Also thats really random but he's always ready and loves giving her massages😂💗(after her long day of crafting). He just loves hearing about it, seeing the excitement in her voice and face. It charges him.

He also spends lots of time fantasizing about her. Reminiscing wonderful dates, imagining potential future ones, creating scenarios etc. He's just A LOT in his head, his mind is really really active, and its very occupied with his love. Also another random message, commitment and love are tied with him somehow. Im seeing he cant commit if he doesn't love but he also cant love if he can't commit. So i would say he's very extreme-y. Like he's either all in or all out. No middle ground. What i mean is he HAS to be this intense in a relationship because for him thats commitment, THATS expressing love. And if he's not able to do that, then his love and interest and enthusiasm begin to fade away. He HAS to be able to be like that in a relationship and i think often he has been labeled (or was) just WAYYY TOO MUCH for the girls he has been in a relationship with. Im seeing he can get very overwhelming and overbearing if the person he's with just isn't the person to enjoy that kind of commitment and effort. But to go back to the cards, he also fantasizes about physical stuff too, for example he's riding in the car, and for the whole ride he's imagining and giggling and wiggling his feet and twirling his hairs because he plays over and over how that one time while they were still just dating she looked him in the eyes with that wet sexy look, and how his whole body got shivers and his stomach dropped and his heart skipped and his palms got sweaty and he swears some saliva started dripping out the corner of his mouth and his knees got weak and he almost felt like he was gonna black out and by the time he came back to his senses she was already sooo close to his lips and them BAM. Fireworks everywhere. He can never forget how that wonderful kiss felt and how sweet the sexual tension and anticipation before it was. He plays stuff like that OVER AND OVER again the whole damn day.

While being on physical stuff, he is pretty horny ill say. But not in a bunny way,m where he wants to fuck 5 times a day, but rather when around his girl he's always half way up, always ready to rise for the occasion iykwim. I think he gets *excited*👀 very easily and is just really weak when it comes to his girl. He's always ready to deliver whenever she ask, whatever she asks. Als im seeing once again he's a giver (and despite him loving head so much) he's focused on her pleasure and he can off just from watching her enjoy...whatever it is. So yeah thats that😂

Bro im so tired im thinking about doing this in 2 parts😭 im just halfway. Ok yk what im splitting it.

[pixeltwix]

{McGucket Family Tree}

I did promise to extend my lore and story for Fiddleford just as I did for Emma May in this post, buuuut for today I’ll be doing a more general Fiddleford family post without diving into his life in depth (I swear I will get to it eventually though. Today will just be small details and their designs :P )

The McGucket family definitely gives off ‘weirdo’ vibes. They’re a well known family in the town, but they always have a bizarre aura about them that sets them all apart from the rest

Bobbie Jean, his mother, and Arlo, his father, settled a bit later into a family than most others would in town, but their patient natures only brought about a very loving family

Blanche is the first born followed by Fiddleford some years after, but now you may ask, ‘why doesn’t anyone else have a goofy name?’

Per McGucket family tradition the first born son is always to have an unconventional or silly name, otherwise it’ll bring about bad luck. The McGuckets are very superstitious people after all!

To play off the weirdo vibe and unconventional energy of the family though I feel all of the McGucket kids have something about them that keeps them apart from most others

Blanche isn’t interested in romance or relationships despite the towns folk gossiping and calling her a spinster for her age

Fiddleford is exceptionally smart and capable of things beyond average comprehension

Lenore is artsy, independent, and favors women over men. Thankfully her parents would never force her into a marriage and protect her at home

Darla is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but her anxiety is 10x worse than Fidds, speech not easy for her even with her own family

Huck is the second born son, but definitely not a farm kid. He detests everything about it and has tried on many occasions to set the pigs free

And then Sally has zero filter, enough said on that. She wastes no punches verbally and struggles to make friends on account of it

But then of course there’s the newest lady in the McGucket family, Emma May. I could talk for hours about her, but joining the family wasn’t exactly the smoothest transition for her

Growing up in a very unorthodox setting with cult influence she was unused to being welcomed into a home where kindness was given without strings attached

The McGuckets were more than happy to help her understand this though and even happier to learn about the woman who managed to steal their (usually socially inept) sons heart

While poor as the McGucket family is I imagine their family home has been with them for generations. Naturally as the family grows so too must the house. I’d imagine their place looks a bit of a mess with all the steady added additions to the house and barn, but it’s all so chaotically organized and right it difficult to not be endeared

While the main house is packed and lovely most of everyone spends the majority of their day out working the land and taking care of the animals

Thankfully they are not alone as the family is quite extended and equally generous and kind

There are plenty more men who have fallen victim to the silly name tradition that the McGuckets have, but the two closest in age to Fiddleford are the most relevant

Thistlebert and Diddsley were really his only friends aside from his siblings growing up, but really these two already felt like older brothers anyway

Thistlebert has an affinity for ‘saucer people’ always curious of alien life even if he doesn’t have the intellect of Fidds to understand it

Meanwhile Diddsley acts as more of the enthusiast for chaos. Always encouraging Fiddleford when they were kids to make the next big thing for them to wreak havoc with. Be that mini pig robots or tractors that can go over 80 mph, he was always the first to give suggestions

Like I said, this will not be the post where I hyper focus on Fiddleford himself, but to conclude I’ll simply say- The McGucket family is literally so silly

Like they’re all very capable and hardworking people, but they will find time to be fun and enjoy their lives without being serious all of the time

In a way it helps them cope with the conditions of their lives and the struggles that they realize most likely will never go away

But despite that every generation becomes more and more optimistic, Fiddleford’s literal dream to be that he an make enough money to provide for his own family one day

[ladyluscinia]

My hottest take from trying to delve into David Jenkins's interviews and piece together where he's going with this is that - for all he and everyone else are consistent about describing this show as a romance and a romcom (and The Muppets) - I don't think he finds the romance compelling??? At least, not the healthy endgame version.

Like, the one interview where he dropped that he was planning an unrequited romance in all those pitches of his until they shot the bathtub scene in 1x06...? Wild twist, but also it kind of makes sense.

Look at the comparisons he makes. Titanic (where Jack dies). Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (where both leads die). Shows like Insecure and Grey's Anatomy, where relationships get messy breakups constantly. He's excited about fanvids set to Olivia Rodrigo's "Favorite Crime". Writes an episode based on Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, a 1966 film of a play that attacks the concept of happy marriages. He mentions A Star Is Born repeatedly in reference to S2, a movie where the disaster marriage ends in suicide and heartbreak.

And even broad spectrum - he repeatedly explains that he's not compelled by pirate stories. Accuses the genre of being "creaky" and "hard to budge", and then claims to want to subvert it in one interview and shrugs about how "it's a pirate story" as reasoning in others. But the part he seems interested in...? Well it's the oncoming end of the Golden Age aspect, and also maybe the short and violent life of organized crime. He's drawing comparisons to mob movies and Westerns - two things I think we can say trend toward the bittersweet to tragic scale with endings. His examples certainly do.

I'm no longer surprised he was really compelled by the Edward and Izzy toxic divorce in S1 and the idea of doing an arc about "Can Izzy find himself outside of this toxic relationship?" only to answer "No." It seems right in his wheelhouse, tbh. Definitely enough that if he felt like Izzy ought to die due to vibes, I doubt he was looking too hard for an alternative.

For all his talk about "Can BlackBonnet put the work into this relationship?" I'm really getting the impression he thinks the more compelling answer is also "No." He likes the idea of a happy ending maybe, but he doesn't really seem into that as a story.

Now, he does seem to have gotten a crash course in "Maybe don't bury your gays?" and he's not lying about wanting to avoid the specific kinds of coming out and queer trauma stories - those are different kinds of tragedies - but I am... skeptical, perhaps, that the forced happy ending feeling of S2 will do anything but repeat in S3.

Just because, like, if I was scrolling these takes on a fic author's blog, I'd put majority odds on the main couple hanging in the final chapter, and I bet a happy sunset ending would come kinda out of nowhere...

Not really a recipe for satisfying, you know?

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger The Movie Reader Insert | Prologue

disclaimer! images in the banner above are NOT what (y/n)/the reader looks like, it’s just an example of the vibe of this chapter

pairing: Ray Manchester/f!reader + Platonic!Henry Hart/f!reader

summary: One year post-retirement, Ray and (y/n) wake up in their little slice of heaven. They're living the dream out in the country, finding time to raise a baby and fool around. Nothing can go wrong, right?

rating: E (15!) fluff and spice - nothing exceptionally explicit, but Ray is a doofus who is constantly horny for his sweet girl. marriage, nudity, slight dirty talk, allusions to sex, allusions to f-receiving oral, nothing actually happens, pillow talk, mentions of pregnancy, post-pregnancy body, they have a baby! ray is in love big time, mentions dying but no one actually dies

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I wasn't going to do the movie yet, but as you can see, I'm weak. So, here we are. For those who are new, this is a continuation/spinoff of my Henry Danger & Danger Force Reader Insert series, where Ray and (y/n) have done the whole works - dating, getting engaged, marriage, all that good stuff. No major spoilers for the end of Danger Force here because that series will get finished (eventually), but yes, they have a baby and they retire to live in a cute lil house. cos who doesn't like a happy ending?

Anywho, this story will mostly be (y/n) and Henry interacting, but I can't resist giving some fluff and spice to these two. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading! I (respectfully) yearn for likes, comments, and reblogs. Click for vibes

Next Chapter - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

A soft golden glow filled a room in a house, signalling that it was morning once again. 

There wasn’t much special about the house. It was family-sized, with white, wooden panelling, a slate roof, and big bay windows above and beneath the overhanging porch, which even had a rocking chair by the front door. There were rolling fields all around, spanning so many miles and miles of green countryside that it was enough to make any red-blooded person sick to their stomach with envy. 

Very Little House on the Prairie, only less backwater – as it said in the seller’s description. 

That was because it was perfect. Not too near the nearest town, but not too far away, either. No, it was nicely out of the way, and that’s how its inhabitants liked it. After all, they’d long had enough of the big city – the noise, the smell, the people. God, so many people. 

People are great until you’re at their beck and call, and it wasn’t until their only close friends were the crickets chirping outside that Ray and (y/n) Manchester realised how Swellview ground them down. 

Talk about low spirits—theirs were exhausted. But they supposed that was what retirement was invented for: a chance to relax after years of hard work and sacrifice. And if anyone had given the best years of their lives to that place, it was the two ex-superheroes.

One year later. Three hundred and sixty-five days, and their lives hadn’t been the same since. Danger Force was gone. Schwoz and the Man’s Nest, too. Once they turned away those rock-hewn walls and high ceilings, they didn’t look back – perhaps once, but only to wave goodbye as they left forever. It was okay; the kids could handle the mantle of Heroes of Swellview, which they were more than welcome to.  

Everything was good in the big city, but things were better in the country. 

Cracking open her eyes, (y/n) blinked in the morning sun. It streamed through the windows – God, she still loved having windows – and made the bedroom feel all warm and cosy, bathing her tastefully procured, farmhouse-style furniture in a gold glow. Every day, she could wake up and count her lucky stars, forever grateful that this was her life now. 

No more midnight emergencies. No more interrupted alone time. No more screaming children. Just her in a little house in the country, precisely as they had always dreamed – after all, she never wanted to dream alone. 

And, thanks to those lucky stars, she didn’t have to. 

She smiled upon feeling his arms around her body, tightening whenever she wiggled a little bit as if he was afraid she might run off and disappear. Ray was always like that, snuggling so close during sleep that he practically smothered his wife, but she didn’t mind. It was adorable how he fidgeted closer, not satisfied until he was on top of her or vice versa. 

Burying her face further into his neck, she inhaled deeply, loving the faint scent of his leftover cologne and shampoo. She left a kiss against his throat, smiling widening when a rough, sleepy groan left his chest. He was awake. 

“Morning, sweet girl…” muttered Ray, his voice like gravel as he cracked an eye open to look upon his precious wife. 

He squeezed her frame in his arms, propping his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand to clear the fog around his dozy mind. He’d never get used to how well he slept now that he was retired. 

“Good morning, doofus,” (y/n) replied, wearing a similarly sleepy smile as her hand ran across his chest – wedding rings glinting in the daylight. “Sleep well?”

“Never better.” The ex-hero rolled over a little, relaxing his back muscles and stretching out his legs as she rested her cheek on his pec. A hand came up to stroke her hair, heavy and clumsy in its movements, but she felt the love behind it—felt it practically radiating off his body when he spoke through a wide-mouthed yawn.

“Can’t complain when I wake up to my beautiful wife every day.”

His flattery made (y/n) giggle, although she was now too used to his corny lines and cheesy romancing for her cheeks to warm. She rolled her eyes, slinging her leg over his hip to scooch closer, and he was only too happy to assist. 

“Five seconds of being awake, and you’re already flirting with me.”

“Can’t help it. You’re so damn gorgeous,” said Ray, a broad, cheeky grin gracing his handsome features – especially when the arm around her shoulders slipped. His hand trailed her curves, which these days had him salivating like a dog whenever he saw them.

“Not at seven AM, I’m not.” The woman shook her head and gave him a slight, self-deprecating smile. 

She didn’t doubt that, after a night of tossing and turning, early starts, late finishes, no shower, and no chance to tame the rats’ nest that was her hair, she was nowhere near beautiful. And that made Ray pout.

“Excuse me, that’s my wife you’re bad-mouthing,” he replied, an edge of semi-serious sternness in his tone. 

If he knew her well enough – and he did – she wasn’t entirely as unbothered as she let on. A lot had changed in the last year; neither were as young as they used to be. Hell, they didn’t spend hours in the gym anymore because there was no point with no bad guys to fight. 

His stiff muscles gave way to a slightly softer, but no less bulky, figure, and she… He never thought she could be more beautiful until his sweet girl became a mom…

“And in my eyes, she’s the hottest, sweetest, prettiest thing that ever gave me the time of day.”

The gentle smile that graced her lips in return was all he needed to keep going, especially since it was directed at him. “There’s the poet I married.”

“Yeah…” Ray nodded, closing his eyes and nearly purring when her fingers slipped through his hair, which had grown out a little since they bought the house. “You married me.”

“I did…” (y/n) whispered as she played with a few chocolate strands, brushing them away from his forehead. “Best choice I ever made…”

She leaned down to kiss him, slow and gentle, and the man hummed appreciatively. The thick stubble on his jaw undoubtedly tickled and scratched her skin, but the former heroine didn’t care, loving the feeling and how it made him look – so rugged and manly after years of being perfectly groomed as The Captain. 

His fingers brushed her cheek, allowing his golden band to nudge against her soft skin as they lay there for a few silent, fleeting moments. 

Gripping her hip, Ray pulled away after a few seconds, licking his lips to chase the honeyed sweetness that she always seemed to have. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm...” His pretty girl nodded, glancing around the room with a fond gaze, eyeing everything she was grateful for. Of course, he took her momentary distraction as a chance to swoop in, pressing kisses down her exposed throat since no singular kiss would ever be enough.

“We’ve got this great house in a beautiful place, enough money to last the rest of our lives, and—

“—And the sex is still great?” She looked down to see his raised eyebrow and goofy grin. 

“Not where I was going, but sure,” answered (y/n), shaking her head at the feeling of his hand patting and squeezing her ass. Some things would never change – certainly not his endless desire for her. “You’ve still got it, doof.”

Ray nodded, as serious as sin as his darkening eyes looked into hers, swallowing upon noticing her little shiver. “Damn right. Nearly eight years together, and I still make you scream the house down. Speaking of which…”

Oh, she knew that smirk. His gaze slid from her beautiful face to roam her body with the same interest and lust as they’d always had, and the old hero wasted no time in getting his hands on her. Turning more onto his side, a large palm drifted down her neck, passing over the curve of her breast in that sexy, little sleep shirt she wore – the one he loved because it stopped around her upper thigh. 

Down his finger went, tracing patterns on her skin as he tried to play it cool – batting his eyelashes and smiling innocently as if his wife didn’t know his game. By the time his touch reached her navel, her quivering voice couldn’t help but ask. 

“Where are you going with that hand?”

“You know where,” he said, circling just below her belly button and just above the elastic of her underwear. All he had to do was ask, smacking his lips together at the thought of being so close, and he knew she was tempted. 

A year ago, she would’ve succumbed more readily, but these days, (y/n) was just as needy as him, yet also apprehensive. And for good reason, no matter how much he pleaded. “Come on. We have time.”

“We never have time,” she replied thoughtfully, sounding almost bitter at what had become a fact of life. 

All Ray did was smile, never one to complain about their now patchy sex schedule because he’d be stupid to complain. Above all things, he might have been an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid, pulling back from his suckling on her neck to follow where her nervous stare went. 

“Ray—the baby monitor is right there.”

When he thought his life would be peaceful, fate threw a curveball. It turns out there were midnight emergencies. There was interrupted alone time. And although he’d raised and seen off eight children at this point, one still needed him. 

And damn him if Ray Manchester wasn’t head over heels with the little bundle of Joy slumbering peacefully in the next room. 

“I’m sure Baby Manchester will understand that mommy and daddy want to do grown-up things,” he told her in his calmest voice whilst ignoring the walkie-talkie on their bedside table. 

At the first sound of a coo or cry, he was like lighting, running out of the room to check that everything was all right. And, of course, it was – it wasn’t like they had enemies anymore. Ray quickly learned that babies inevitably cry, and whilst his had him wrapped around a tiny, pinkish finger, a few moments left alone weren’t necessarily bad. 

If anything, it played in his favour right now. 

“But if we wake—” (y/n) shuddered, her gaze still not moving from the table as if anticipating a shrieking cry. 

Even if his lips felt like heaven on her skin, dipping his head to suck a fleeting bruise on her collarbone, she hated the thought of starting and not finishing—of getting so close to the passion they used to share, only for it to be cut short at the crux. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. 

“We won’t,” her husband insisted, smooching loudly up her neck to reach those pillowy lips. He placed a featherlight kiss on them, using his many years of experience to change her mind. “Come on, sweet girl. Remember we used to do it everymorning?”

Despite how her ears warmed, the woman met his smirk with a dry glance. Yes, she did remember, secretly aching and longing for the early days of their relationship when they could roll around the sheets all morning. Those were the days. 

“That was before we had a baby, doofus.”

“Yeah, and I should worship the ground you walk on for that,” he replied, sounding serious and throaty, making her squirm nervously under his admiring gaze. His hand wandered over newfound, favourite areas – her wider hips, softer tummy, heavier chest – and he smiled at her breathless mewl.

She was still so sensitive, even after the baby changed her body, making it rounder, fleshier, and bigger. If Ray thought he was blessed to be a father, he must’ve done something right in his life to hover over his trembling wife, swallowing thickly at having more of her to love. 

“Please, darlin’…I’m dying of thirst over here.” He rested his chin against her shoulder, shuffling closer until his hips and growing hardness pressed into her side. 

“…You’re so lucky I love you,” (y/n) said after a silent pause, and the silly grin on her doofus’ face was worth however long they had. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, giggling into a kiss as he immediately rolled fully on top of her, groaning against her lips. The longer strands meant she had something to yank on, and when that stubble reached her thighs…

God, it had been ages since he’d done that, and she suddenly realised how she craved it. “You should put that silver tongueto better use, Raymond.”

“God, I love you…” he replied gutturally, nodding diligently without needing to be told twice before he began moving down her body – pressing light, little kisses as he went. 

Pushing her shirt out of the way, the ex-hero greedily drank in the sight of her nude body as she threw the clothing off into a corner. He urged her to relax against the pillows and mattress as he settled between her legs – a homecoming that felt way overdue after simply sleeping in bed. 

For a man of experience, Ray swore his hands were shaking, too anxious to have her writhing under him already as his fingertips teased the edge of her underwear, playing with the lacy edge so he could slide it gently over her hip bones. He licked his lips, all too eager for a taste, as she lifted her hips, moaning for him to hurry up. 

He swore under his breath, tugging the final piece of clothing down her legs with breathless anticipation. A chuckle left his lips at her whines as a large hand slung one leg over his shoulder before pulling her down the bed toward his waiting tongue, which would soon give them both what they wanted. 

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” whispered Ray as he rubbed his nose against her inner thigh, hoping to prolong his favourite pastime. “Just let me—”

A sharp, gurgling cry shattered the moment. Ray looked at (y/n). (y/n) looked at Ray. With their eyes locked, they hoped it was just a fluke – a little shout out of nowhere as they laid perfectly still like doing so would freeze time long enough for them to fuck. 

That was wishful thinking, and one hiccup turned into choked warbles, which became loud, beckoning wails. And they both knew what that meant. 

“Fuck.”

“Shit.” They sighed, knowing the romance and passion in the air had gone as the baby monitor played its ear-shattering, heartbreaking tune. 

With a low groan, Ray smushed his forehead again as his wife’s abdomen, tickling her bare skin with his hot breath, although she didn’t have the heart to laugh at him. (y/n) dropped her head back against the pillows, willing her desire and neediness to dissipate because the moment was annoyingly, disappointingly, frustratingly gone.

“I told you,” she said quietly, although there was no blame or bite in her tone. “It’s quarter past…Feeding time.”

“Yeah, it was feeding time for me, too—ow!” The hero grumbled, only for his precious wife to whack his shoulder with an unserious frown on her pretty face. 

“Later, doof,” she told him gently but firmly, patting his head as she sat up against the headboard. “Gotta get up…”

But before she could swing her legs over the bed’s edge and put her feet on the floor, the man urged her to lay back down, hands pushing her shoulders back against the mattress. “Stay in bed, sweetheart. I’ll make up a bottle for our meatball.”

His smile meant she couldn’t argue, not when he’d been so sweet, caring, and attentive since she’d mothered his child. Ray took to fatherhood like he was born for it, juggling housework, gardening, shopping, cooking, and everything else whilst still having an arm free to carry his child. 

He wanted his sweet girl to rest, so he kissed her temple as he climbed out of their little sanctuary, fully intent on handling everything if it meant she could get a little more shut-eye. The former heroine watched with an enamoured smile as he found and donned some plaid pyjama pants, looking every part the handsome hero she fell in love with as he opted to remain deliciously shirtless. 

Although, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at one minor detail. “Baby, doofus. Baby, not meatball.”

“Came out looking like a meatball. Name’s stuck,” answered Ray, grinning unapologetically because he said it with so much love for his lil’ meatball. 

Leaning down for a final, chaste kiss, he wandered out of the room, stretching his bulky arms over his head as he called out to the baby in the next room. “Now, where is Daddy’s little angel?”

“Such a doofus…” (y/n) muttered to herself and shook her head, albeit with a smile. Inhaling deeply, she debated going back to sleep, still feeling sleepy with the soft sheets and blankets, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t do that to her doofus. 

She could hear him cooing through the monitor, sweet-talking to the baby as if he’d actually get a response from a one-year-old. No, she refused to sleep whilst he slaved the day away, so instead, she reached for her phone as it charged beside the lamp. 

Eyeing the time on her lock screen – an adorable photo of her husband holding their newborn with tears in his eyes – she thought fifteen minutes more in bed wouldn’t hurt.

Scrolling through the many notifications, she swiped through her email first, rolling her eyes at how much crap bled through the junk filter. Everything was inconsequential trash, but something caught her eye as she flicked between apps.

‘Spam, spam, spam, read that later, not interested, delete—a text from Piper?’ 

That had her sitting up a little straighter. A grin naturally made its way onto her face as she opened the message, swiftly realising that nothing was wrong, bless her worrying heart. 

If she had it her way, she’d have everyone under one roof – Henry, Jasper, Charlotte, Piper, Chapa, Mika, Miles, and Bose – all the baby birds in one nest. Still, the woman knew they had to have their own adventures, settling for texts, sparse phone calls, and monthly updates from those little crimefighters in both Swellview and Dystopia. 

At least Piper remembered to tell her about how she and Schwoz wanted to visit that godforsaken city. 

‘Arrived in Dystopia. Schwoz snored for the whole flight, so I shoved expired peanuts up his nose, LOL! Meeting Henry and Jasper now – wish me luck xx.’ 

“Aw…My babies…” she mumbled, glad to hear something positive that wasn’t Charlotte’s struggles to get into university, Henry’s love life, Jasper’s moustache obsession, or Schwoz’s many, many problems. 

In some ways, she missed the old days, finding the adjustment to daily life jarring. Looking around her bedroom, (y/n) knew she was the luckiest girl in the world, having two rings on her left hand and a doting husband and child next door, so why did something feel…missing? 

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing it was selfish to complain, even silently. There was nothing wrong with her perfect life, and she had to keep thinking that, no matter if she found herself reaching for a gum ball every once in a while. Even if she sometimes caught Ray looking wistfully at his old super-suit, she had to ignore it. 

‘We worked so hard for this…’ she thought to herself as her thumbs hovered above a reply to Piper. ‘Who am I to want to go back?’

So, she forced a little smile and began typing, encouraging the sassy, young girl to be nice to her old friend, who’d use her in one of his experiments if she wasn’t careful. She was just about to give her love to Henry and Jasper when she shivered, feeling the air go from warm and golden to cold and dark in a split second. 

“What the—?” (y/n) gasped as a strong wind picked up, shaking the room like a freight train was passing through, and she felt her heart pound in her ears as her vision began to cloud over. Her tastefully curated bedroom melted into hues of purple, yellow and pink, and she swore lightning zapped at her skin as she shielded her eyes from a blinding light. 

(y/n) felt herself falling, her last thought wondering if this was it. Admittedly, she didn’t know what was happening, and it sure as hell was a weird way to go – up in a cloud of violet smoke. 

Was she going to die? If so, she wanted one more chance to tell Ray she loved him—one more time to hold her baby in her arms and whisper, “Momma loves you, meatball.” What kind of death was this if she couldn’t see their faces one last time?

But when she screamed, no words came out, and then, in the blink of an eye, it all faded to black. 

Next Chapter

[moonytoast-x]

my lovely collection of fanfic recs summarized by yours truly <3

✨all the young dudes✨: canon, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057010/chapters/22409387

dress up in you: muggle au, remus is a hot bassist and sirius is so gay for him, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990401/chapters/32213229

atyd sirius pov: self explanatory (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/34577035

text talk: muggle au, text fic, remus has chronic illness and sirius texted the wrong number, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651109/chapters/3501239

you wouldn't like me: muggle au, trans sirius, wolfstar, set in like 2005, very vibes, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/45502642/chapters/11449071

blends: coffee shop au wolfstar <3 (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869079/chapters/17970910

on another ocean: wolfstar goes on a trip across europe together and has incredible sexual tension, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/39128118/chapters/117226243#workskin

choices: jegulus/jegulily, mostly canon compliant, takes place during hogwarts years all through the war (REALLY FUCKING SAD WATCH OUT), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/30170643/chapters/74332617

tigerlily and wolfsbane: lily pov of hogwarts years https://archiveofourown.org/works/33079969/chapters/82118059

wading in waist high waters: gbbo au wolfstar, sexual tension, sirius used to be in a boyband, remus is a welsh nerd (I love him), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/36896740/chapters/92052442

dear your holiness: remus is a priest and a bassist and sirius is incredibly gay and also confused, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/35105491/chapters/87450694

the hand that feeds: canon compliant dorlene (be prepared to sob), complete work, theres also a part two that focuses on emmeline vance and mary https://archiveofourown.org/works/38287942/chapters/95669569

nothing fades like the light: zombie cowboy jegulus, shortish, so sAD, has some black brother feels </3 (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/43550415/chapters/109497873

bury our secrets shallow: marauders+slythershits muggle small town au with black brothers sorting their shit out, also wolfstar and jegulus I think (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/49550836/chapters/128345881#workskin

bird set free: wolfstar figure skating and all the sexual tension (major second hand embarrassment but it's kinda funny the second time you read it), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44271820/chapters/112378375#workskin

like real people do: muggle au where remus has epilepsy and works at a coffee shop, and sirius is raising harry bc jily still died (😭😭😭) and they fall in love, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44399764/chapters/111670651

crimson rivers: hunger games au, really long, really fucking angsty, SO GOOD, complete work https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/39760044

we can take it out back if you promise to give me a kiss after you take me down: rosekiller muggle au, wip, they're dramatic little shits and theyre going thru it https://archiveofourown.org/works/50777170/chapters/128269429

just lovers: no war au with starchaser and marylily and rosekiller and wolfstar and general happiness and wholesomeness, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/38344720

intermission: cute rosekiller side plot from just lovers (your honor I love them), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/39437451/chapters/98704770#workskin

I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you: rosekiller trying to stop barty from getting into an arranged marriage, in canon-without-the-war, lots of slythershit shenanigans, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/41378289/chapters/103762113

annoying: rosekiller wrong number text fic (like text talk but even funnier and less wolfstar), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44115820/chapters/121605580#workskin

kill your darlings: college hockey au, jegulus and wolfstar and marylily and barty x evan x cerci, very angsty most times, truly amazing, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/40038048/chapters/100269270

[thebluemallet]

Pairing Every Bridgerton Couple with a Taylor Swift Song

Netflix finally made the official announcement! We're getting the third season of Bridgerton... but not until Spring 2024. A lot of projects got delayed due to the strikes, so I'm not that surprised. And since I'm bored and it's been a while since we've had any Bridgerton content, here is every major Bridgerton couple paired with a Taylor Swift song.

can't wait for all the comments telling me why all the songs i picked were wrong.

Kate and Anthony- Lavender Haze

I honestly don't have a good reason for choosing this specific song for them beyond "vibes" and "purple was a big color for them in their season." Other songs that could fit them seemed a little too melancholy compared to their happy ending at the end of season 2, so I'm sticking with Lavender Haze.

Benedict and Sophie- Enchanted (Taylor's Version)

The obvious choice for them would be Enchanted since their love story is basically a Cinderella story and the song has some major Cinderella vibes. There are two runner-ups since book!Benedict is a bit of a fuckboy: White Horse (Taylor's Version) and All Too Well (10 Minute Version). Since show!Benedict is more charming and less of a fuckboy compared to the book, the other choices should become irrelevant in his season. (God, I hope they're irrelevant in his season).

Colin and Penelope- Love Story (Taylor's Version)

This one's easy: Love Story. They've known each other since they were young. They're both writers of stories. Penelope has built up this idealistic version of Colin for years now and this song definitely sounds like it was written by someone younger with a more idealistic look on love and romance. The runner-up for these two is You Belong With Me (Taylor's Version).

Daphne and Simon- Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version)

Is it cheating to pick the one that was used in the show? No? Then Daphne and Simon are Wildest Dreams. A good runner-up for them would be Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version). Specifically in the show when Simon tries to distance himself from Daphne in episode 3.

Eloise and Phillip- Lover (First Dance Remix)

I wasn't expecting to have as much trouble as I did trying to pick out a song for these two. I finally landed on Lover (First Dance Remix). In the books, Eloise puts off getting married for a while because she wants a love story as romantic as Benedict's. And this remix of Lover has some added strings that made me think of the string covers in the show and they added a more wistful feel to the song that you don't get with the original.

Bonus Couple- Francesca and John- Timeless (Taylor's Version)(From the Vault)

She's the only Bridgerton sibling to be married twice and yet I feel like John is easily forgotten. But not on this list!

John and Francesca's love story is cut tragically short, leaving Francesca a young widow. And she mourns him for years before she decides to try to find a husband again. She probably spent those years thinking over what could have been had John lived. So the nostalgia of Timeless (TV) (FTV) seems fitting for the two of them.

Francesca and Michael - This Love (Taylor's Version)

The line "Currents swept you out again" immediately had me thinking of Michael sailing away from England for years right after John's death and how that affected Francesca. Then he finally returns just when Francesca has decided she's ready to get married again. "This love came back to me."

Gregory and Lucy- Speak Now (Taylor's Version)

I don't think it gets any more Gregory/Lucy than making a scene at a wedding. Your honor, I rest my case.

Hyacinth and Gareth- Paper Rings

Paper Rings for the simple fact that Gareth, when he first meets Hyacinth, has nothing to offer in terms of wealth and riches. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but she's the only Bridgerton sibling/in-law that got an actual proposal in the books, right? The rest of them just kind of got compromised into marriage. So she gets this song.

(I almost picked this song for Colin and Penelope while Hyacinth and Gareth nearly got Love Story.)

[jaerie]

I need to write some of this while it’s fresh.  Tonight was... something I will never forget which doesn’t even describe it.  Carrying on @rainbowmegamix after such success in Council Bluffs, I talked myself up to have the courage and confidence to take the rainbow flags into a concert I was attending alone and do it dressed as a walking rainbow to stand out so people could find me for flags. I spent hours yesterday putting the sticks in them only to have the venue not allow them.  So I had to de-stick them all and then smuggle them all into avoid suspicion, but I was determined. And then I just... started being the outgoing person I definitely am NOT and just started handing them out.  And for a while I thought it had been a fail and that at least a few were out there... and then it just... took off.  People were coming up to me and catching my eye from across the arena and forming lines to get them and I gave out 750 of my 800 flags before The Snuts were even on. And then I found @queenbeeharry who started giving them out like Oprah. Then I stood in my VERY visible seat and just went hard for queer representation in my own little bubble.  And knowing I was so visible and that I was memorable to everyone I handed the flags out to was so out of my comfort zone.  I pushed through and I’m so glad I did.  I had the best concert of my life just vibing and living my own pride.  

I left the concert in tears and I feel its really important to stress why this all felt so big for me.  In 2003 when I was 17, I was a baby gay freshly out to only a close few and finally dating my best friend of years.  I was beyond happy with the freedom of opening that love and I will admit the puppy love was on max. But this was 2003 and it was a different time.  Gay marriage wasn’t even legal yet in a majority of places in the US.  In the back corner of a nearly empty movie theater, I kissed my girlfriend.  It was not obscene or raunchy, it was the kind of giddy pecks that come alone with that new rush.  In the midst of that high, a man approached us and asked if we were both girls.  He proceded to chew us out for doing that in front of his kid and had the manager call the police to have us removed from the theater.  To go from that fearful way of living to being the most visible walking rainbow to a whole arena where I didn’t even have one shred of fear was so empowering and intoxicating.  I was vibing so hard and I didn’t feel perceived by Louis, I felt truly seen. Louis is like therapy and I felt a part of me that was that 17 year old heal tonight. I wish I knew how to thank him for fostering such a safe space 20 years later.   

[moonmoonthecrabking]

hi here's my thinkpiece on the religiosity of grace chasity (also op is a christian no clowning in the notes) :)

so she's pretty clearly a critique on christianity, specifically american evangelical christianity. that's because that one's got a lot of purity culture fuckery. she lives in a no-moan household. she wears swimmers to the bathtub. i say evangelicalism not catholicism because of the exchange with detective shapiro.

and her purity is what she finds most valuable about herself. and, i would argue that that and swearing are the most christian* things she adheres to. when she finds herself accidentally masturbating (good on her for finding her spot immediately tbh), she wants to do anything to get rid of it. she thinks kissing and carrying books is sinful (there is nothing in the Bible about this). but she's fine when she commits manslaughter (which the Bible doesn't like super vibe with). and that is the biggest problem with american evangelicalism. that sexual immorality** and doing secular things (swearing, non-christian music) are the worst sins you could ever commit. she loves power, and i've found that evangelicals in my country (australia) have a similarly hell-focused theology to grace (her disregarding catholicism, "she's bisexual and dead where else would she be").

so let's talk about the climax (pun intended) of the musical, which simultaneously shows grace in the best light of the whole show and how the church didn’t help her in her faith. let’s start with the positive: grace giving up what means the most to her so neither of her friends have to die. it’s the most wwjd moment she has in the whole show, sacrificing herself for, if you’ll excuse the ocean-ism, the Betterment of Humanity. however, she gives up her chastity. not her faith, or her relationship with God, or church attendance, or her love for humanity. that last one isn’t really in line with grace’s character, and that’s exactly my point. all these things should be valued over her virginity. but they aren’t, because the us evangelical church is really obsessed with (their definition of) sexual morality. i say this as someone who is allosexual (not het but) and intends to wait until marriage to have sex because of my christian faith.

the finale is also telling. she revels in her power, because i think you’ve seen church leaders who manipulate and hurt. there continues to be an emphasis on her prudence.

now, not to hijack my religious analysis post with my religious agenda but, i feel bad for her. i’m not going to say everything about us evangelicalism is wrong, i like nuance, and for the same reason i’m not even going to say that about their sexual ethics. i do disagree with some interpretations (mainly the queer stuff), but i do believe any christian has the right to interpret the Bible to the best of their abilities and act accordingly. i’ll never say “you’re going to hell for your interpretation of the Bible” (with one major and irrelevant exception). i am fine with christians following the sexual ethics they feel are right/called to.

the issue is, grace, in her environment, hasn’t had the opportunity to do that work for herself. she hasn’t been able to flourish in her faith in any regard because she’s been encouraged (considering what i’ve gleaned, birth) to focus on virginity and not even think sexually about someone else. that hatred is fine but sex will send you straight to hell. and like. the Bible says sexual sin is a big bad (i personally interpret that to be things like rape, incest, and paedophilia), but it also says the greatest commands are to love God and love your neighbour. those can be difficult when you’ve been taught to look elsewhere from your faith community

basically i want to give grace a deconstruction arc so she can be a happy healthy murdering christian :)

[wildwren]

i am also a michaela stirling truther— the more i think about it, the more i want it. i’ll definitely be a little disappointed if the rumors turn out to be false. don’t get me wrong, masali baduza is stunning and as a bisexual i already feel like a winner either way… but my god, she and Francesca would make such a gorgeous couple 😭

and i know people keep saying that gender bending Michael would erase important plot points but honestly i can think of several ways off the top of my head that they could maintain the integrity of the story even with Michaela as the lead instead of Michael.

and honestly, not that i have any reason to believe they’re actually going to genderbend Sophie, but they could easily rework Benedict’s story in a similar way— it irritates me that people are insisting there is no way they could make it work.

the book purists insisting xyz could not possibly happen because “that’s not how the story goes!” are making little sense to me. the show has already made many changes to the stories, large and small, and i don’t think “but the book story won’t work that way!” is a valid argument at this point. the writers have shown themselves very willing and even eager to uproot expectations and tell the story in a new way.

TOTALLY. i was previously on the "we should not expect queer rep from bridgerton they are clearly not very invested in it" train until jess brownell explicitly confirmed that a queer romance is coming and now im being a full ass clown about it. yea....when i think about masali baduza as michaela i actually need to lie down, it would end me. but also send an angel to protect her if that's actually true because some of the fandom....uh.....absolutely cannot handle that even remotely, and they WILL make it her problem.

but yes, i agree, there are many ways in which michael feels like a prime option for gender-bending. obviously when he was wicked has fans, but i think in general they're a little less rabid than some of the kanthony, polin, benophie, and philoise fans who would be specifically up in arms about major character changes to "their" ship. when he was wicked is later in the series, more disconnected, francesca's less present in the general narrative, etc.

also, because francesca has a widowhood storyline, it feels....how do i say this....deeply boring for bridgerton the show to introduce a man like john stirling, only to kill him off to make room for another random man. it would be exceedingly more interesting to have a queer element to the story, not least of all because it would add more tension to the "we cant be together because you're my dead husband's cousin" vibes.

also, women in the 19th century could inherit property. sometimes the property itself was not entailed and therefore not necessarily inherited by the male title holder. if francesca is living in the house....and michaela inherits the house....well, that's a pretty great set-up for a queer happy ending, which is, according to julia quinn, apparently impossible in a world where gay marriage isn't legal.

also, ALSOOOOO....a lesbian rake. i rest my case.

either way, im interested to see how they interpret when he was wicked's relationship to colonialism (if they do so), given that the show has now shown the Stirlings, or at least john stirling, to be Black. Kate's home and backstory in India has had some relevance to her characterization, and I'm curious to see if they take a similar tack with the stirlings (and how well they manage to execute it).

okay i think those are all of my michaela thoughts thank you so much for giving me an excuse to rant about them. truthers gotta stick together (until our hearts are inevitably dashed by cold hard reality)

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi! I came across your account again and here to ask if there is a completed LXCxF!OC? (Sorry if I sound like a mean person, it's just English not my first language and Idk how to ask. 😅) @lanxicenswife69​

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, LXC/OFC, wangxian, canon divergence, isekai, transmigration, amateur cartography, butterfly effect, sunshot campaign, not everyone dies au, no golden core tranfer, dimension travel, politics, self-insert, foreknowledge, angst w happy ending)

quotev mdzs interactive ficverse series by yeeternity (T, 199k, LXC/OC, JGY/OC, JC/OC, canon divergence, self-insert, reader insert, OC sect, fix-it of sorts, angst w happy ending, sworn siblings with WWX) Also, another for 1, the first story set's the fic up, then second one is LXC's story

Taking roots after the misty rain by RoseJuneRivera (Not rated, 63k, LXC/OFC, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, canon divergence, OCs, WWX has a sister, rebirth, pining, burial mounds, good person JGY, good parents JFM & YZY, secret rule breaker LXC, not everyone dies au, suicide attempt, murder, blood & violence, fluff & angst, WIP) I haven't read these two, but they seemed interesting and appear ongoing

Dance with you by Chilibun (T, 116k, wangxian, LXC/OFC, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, OC insert, fix-it of sorts, reincarnation, fluff & angst, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced rape/non-con, WIP) I haven't read these two, but they seemed interesting and appear ongoing

~*~

2. hello, itmf for fics where either lwj or wwx is pregnant but they die of childbirth and we see the other mourning while still taking care of their child.

Gift of Memories by QueenXIV (G, 3k, wangxian, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort , sad, mpreg, bottom LWJ, good uncle LXC)

~*~

3. I’m in the Mood for a Fic where WWX is really oblivious to LWJ courting him and they manage to successfully communicate and get together- I was rereading Gina3's excellent work " Impenetrable Walls " and crave a story with similar vibes and some resolution @okionlywanttoreadforever

~*~

4. Hello, can you please recommend me loads of modern setting wangxian au with loads of fluff. I don't mind some Jiang family bashing mixed. As i am on vacations and i have nothing better to do , I feel like I am running out of wangxian fluff to read . Thank you in advance @sineofu​

🧡 Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting)

I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references) 

(Planning the Day) To Meet You by Bettydice (E, 61k, wangxian, Modern, college/university au, pining, WWX raises LSZ, LWJ pov, fluff, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, smut, happy ending)

With No Particular Affection  by Chrononautical (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Kid  Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, JFM and YZY’s A+ Parenting, Good Uncle JC, Wedding Fluff, Genius WWX, Street Kid WWX, Homelessness, Rich  LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cinnamon Roll WN, Implied/Referenced Suicide, WWX Has a Pregnancy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern, slice of life, domestic bliss, angst, fluff, smut, hurt/Comfort, kissing, bdsm, artist WWX, poetry translator LWJ, slight somnophilia)

Showtime by Scrippio (T, 115k, wangxian, modern, theater au, abandonment issues, fluff, director WWX, stage manager LWJ, reconciliation, pining, slice of life, happily ever after, accidental baby acquisation, light angst, one emergency surgery, but it’s fine)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, single dad lwj,   Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let lwj have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

🧡 Hello, IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? By overmountainandmeadow (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Office, Modern office AU, IT Director! LWJ, Graphic Designer! WWX, Father!LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Juniors as interns, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, Identity Porn, Rabbits, Cloud Recesses as a company, Happy Ending, Single Parent LWJ) 

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, wangxian, modern, single parent WWX, kindergarden teacher LWJ, kid fic, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, pining)

all the problems we could solve by Stratisphyre (T, 20k, wangxian, modern, getting together, somewhat non-linear, fluff, humor, violence, meet-cute, identity porn, thieves au)

“I will climb to where you are” or: the bunny book by ladyofrosefire, NotAFicWriter (T, 40k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, modern, pining, fatherhood, family, long-distance relationship, semi-epistolary, giref/mourning, past food insecurity, panic attacks, past parent death, fluff)

~*~

5. hello! may i ask for story with a fat character? i'd love everything else to basically stay the same, to not really discuss it or agonize over it or anything.. i just saw a fat jyl art and thought it'd be lovely to read something similar (with anyone, though wwx may be a tad unlikely bc of starvation and such). if it's relevant, i'd love canon dynamics please!

~*~

6. hi!! thanks for all the hard work :DDD

im in the mood for wwx sharing a body with someone!! I just finished 💖 Serrated by InkSplatterM and MrMissMrsRandom (which is fantastic and I very much recommend), and ive also read ❤️The One-Body Problem by Metisket and adore that as well!

shape me something new by perilously (E, 24k, wangxian, canon divergence, sharing a body, non-penetrative sex, masturbation, horror-adjacent imagery)

The Exorcism of Lan Yuan by EHyde (T, 5k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, possession, family, horror, experimental POV, slightly dark LWJ, ghost WWX, suicidal ideation) though they might be wanting something more cheerful

~*~

7. Hi! There's this manga that I was recently reminded of because of an au fic from another fandom called Seven Days to fall in Love and I was wondering if there's an au in this fandom too? Any pairing but I do enjoy wangxian the most. Thanks 🙏

~*~

8. This is pretty general, but I’ve really been wanting to read good case fics. Multi-chaptered or longer one-shots (I.e., minimum 10k words) are preferable. I also usually prefer fics rated M or E, but am open to well-written T and G. I have no other preference in terms of canon, modern, etc. I also don’t care about who tops or bottoms (if that’s an element of the fic). Thank you so much in advance~ ☺️

of buried things series by Sanguis (E, 30k, wangxian, modern w magic, haunted houses, case fic, witches, magical realism, mild gore, pining, getting together, smut, accidental baby acquisation, tentacle sex)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)  

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, All the clan leaders, Literally so many OCs, There are just lots of people, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, Mystery, The intrinsic horniness of wound tending, Yearning 2: The Electric Boogaloo) 

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal   Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX,  Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

all this, and love too by friedkiki (M, 33k, wangxian, post-canon, case fic, possession, pining, body horror, getting together, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, detailed warnings in notes)

Ribbons and Heartsongs by jeyhawk (E, 36k, wangxian, fantasy au, scifi au, dimension travel, case fic, loss of virginity, marriage proposal, pining, sharing a bed, werewolf WWX)

moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot   washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

Vagabond by xantissa (E, 65k, wangxian, post-canon, case fic, supernatural, slow burn, smut, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, BAMF LXC, bottom LWJ, top LWJ)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn)

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

~*~

9. im looking for fics having similar vibes/plot/wangxian dynamics as this - To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell

~*~

10. For the next itmf i was wondering if there was any fics mentioned wwxs trauma from being homeless in yiling as a kid, specifically food issues or dealing with creeps not just his fear of dogs thanks for the help!

in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, JC & WWX & JYL, WN & WWX & WQ, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC & WQ, JC & WN, future JC/WQ, character death (WWX), JC shouting, humor?, JZX is ok for a Jin, necromancy) I remember characters discuss Wei Wuxian being traumatized, but I can’t recall if it was about his childhood on the streets or the abuse in the Jiang Family.

We all have a Hunger by KatAnni (T, 23k, wangxian, nighthunts, cloud recesses study arc, getting to know each other, getting together, implied/referenced child abuse, ghosts, dogs, panic attacks, hurt LWJ, minor injuries, fever, starvation, homelessness, WWX’s childhood, WWX’s canonical cynophobia, whump, angst w happy ending)

~*~

11. Are there any fics which focus on Wei Wuxian rebuilding his core? Fics which focus on him meditating, fighting, cultivating to go from weak back to strong? Likewise fics which show the difficulties and struggles he faces while his core is still weak, such as being cold, weak, or needing to eat. (secondary question: would this kind of fic generally be included in the “golden core fix it” tag?)

Step Into The Stream by julomaiboulomai (G, 7k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, post-canon, outsider pov, 5+1, reconciliation, WWX living in Cloud Recesses, LQR pov, gusu lan rules) touches a bit of that in the background and I find it lovely

Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not Jiang Family Friendly, WangXian gets a happy ending)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP) it’s a really good one WIP though ✨✨

the path to heaven (starts at the bottom of hell) by lightningalwaysreturns (M, 24k, wangxian, post-canon, immortality, family feels, future fic, mild sexual content, married wangxian, fluff & mush, canon compliant) There is a sequel too. It just as amazing.

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12. heeeeeeyy for the next itmf I’d like some mind reading or sharing thoughts or sharing feelings or that kind of thing with wangxian. I was thinking of something maybe funny like lwj and wwx just having a silent conversation while everyone else wonders why they’re staring like that at the other, but something more serious is welcome too!

Thanks a lot!!!!

Hope Dangling by a String by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

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13. itmf for fics where JC and LWJ become (or are already) friends

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji being bros series by JiangChengLotus (Mostly T, 99k, JC & LWJ, wangxian, JC/LXC)

Time Kept Flowing by notoneforreality (T, 201k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, major character death is wwx, who comes back, Family, Autistic LWJ, Kid Fic, JC and LWJ raise the kids, Co-parenting is hard, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

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14. Good day! I hope you’re having a great time. So ahmm, can you recommend me fics where one character (like wwx or jwy) reincarnated/isekai in a novel they read and then became the side/main/outsider character in that novel? (Preferly if they tried to change things in the novel but I do not mind if there is a scenario where they tried to avoid being involved in novel’s storyline but still get involve lmao)

Any pairings will do as long as the idea was like that.

thank you so much!

Heart of gold by Yuqiyuqi (M, 4k, wangxian, historical fantasy, modern WWX, transmigrator WWX, arranged marriage, fluff & angst, slow burn, happy ending, WIP)

Reincarnated as the Prince’s Omega and He Wants to Make a Baby With Me!? by raviollialienking (M, 11k, wangxian, isekai, ABO, arranged marriage, alpha LWJ, omega WWX, mpreg, masturbation, frottage, WIP)

Dramaturgy by slex (slexenskee) (T, 62k, wangxian, canon divergence, isekai, modern WWX, bisexual disaster WWX, fix-it, WIP)

Round One GO! by kat8cha (M, 12k, wangxian, video game world au, always different sex au, fighting game, trans character, fem LWJ, fem WWX, hijinks & shenanigans, incense burner, LWJ has YLLZ kink)

Reincarnated as the Novel's Villain by hishirin (Not rated, 28k, JC/LXC, JYL/JZX, wangxian, isekai, reincarnation, medieval au, villainess au, athlete JC, slow burn, knight JC, wizard WWX, crown prince LXC, enemies to friends to lovers, prince LWJ)

transmigration for dummies by magnvseffect (T, 14k, LJY/LSZ, canon divergence, scum villain au, transmigrator LJY, humor, implied/referenced character death, WIP)

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15. Hey, I'm looking for fics about the older siblings being friends and teasing/commiserating over their younger siblings? Like mingjue, xichen, yanli, and wen qing as a friend group. Shanastoryteller's modern school au sort of has the right vibe but isn't entirely there

Thanks! @captainkaithr

Give a Little Love by westiec (T, 12k, JYL/NMJ/LXC/WQ, WangXian, NHS/JC/WN, MM/QS, XuanLi, 3Zun, Modern with Magic, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Polyamory, Miscommunication, Mentioned JGS, Humor, Slice of Life, Family Drama, WWX's Canon Obliviousness, sword fights, Getting Together, Good Sibling JZX, Apology Dumplings, Nonbinary NHS, the Mortifying Ordeal of Friends and Family, [Podfic] Give a Little Love by RevolutionaryJo)

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16. hi! can you suggest me any juniors (trio/quartet) time travel, where these juniors meet young wangxian?

also, i hope you can recommend me other fics related to junior + wangxian as well! thankyou <3 @oceanfl0wer​

unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, wangxian, the junior quartet, watching some memories not the whole series, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, references to torture, PTSD) not time travel, but the juniors see memories of younger wangxian

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17. Any fics of ghost wei ying in ghost city?

Teatime with the Dead by Winxhelina (T, 6k, wangxian, ghost city, ghost WWX, love confessions, kisses, happy ending, fluff & angst)

💖 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 20k, wangxian, hualian, ghost city, cultivation partners, immortality, fluff, supreme ghost king WWX)

Can we skip to the Good Part? by  pink-lotus-pods (Waterlogged_fireflies) (T, 107k, hualian, wangxian, crossover, YLLZ WWX, slow build, canon temporary character death, Fix-It of sorts, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, genius WWX)

Faithless by RohanBerry (M, 46k, wangxian, hualian, god LWJ, ghost WWX, dark LWJ, protective LWJ, friendship, pining, angst w happy ending, slow burn, WIP)

Waxing Moon Officer by Sal13 (T, 11k, WIP, WangXian, Minor HuaLian, Minor MianQing, Crossover, Ghost WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Hurt WWX, Suicidal WWX, Amnesia, Deity HX, Lotus Pier worships HX, WWX Is Good With Children, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Oblivious WWX, BAMF WWX)

Wei Wuxian and Ghost City Series by Flower0018 (Not Rated, 6k, HC & WWX, YLLZ WWX, Ghost WWX, Canonical Character Death, Ghost City, HC-Centric, Light Angst)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what  you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack,  whatever - it’s all good!***

[kawaiibarty]

my favourite fics (or fics that i remember at all)

ive been a fandom collector since i was 12 so this is basically just me trying to remember my favourite ones in... no particular order.

major exposure time:

whatsapp - yuri on ice, text fic. wattpad 100+ chapters. victuuri, otayuri, emickey, basically all of them are gay and highschool students in a gc. it made me giggle shut up

the pakhan's jewel - yuri on ice. ao3. completed, 150k words, 23 chapters. abo with alpha victor and omega yuri. arranged marriage. super smutty uhm shut up i was literally only a kid

kill your darlings - harry potter marauders. ao3, completed 303k words, 28 chapters. college au. angsty asf but not the worst, trust. jegulus, wolfstar, rosekiller

a brief history of dragons - the only fic to ever exist. ao3. 23k words, 3 chapters. completed. wolfstar. just...wolfstar. it's so good please go read it

nights after dreams - oh boy...where do i begin???? i was there since the beginning. like. you don't get it chat. 2.5 MILLION WORDS, 754 CHAPTERS, fucking ONGOING. longhaul victuuri carrying on after season 1. angst and happy and happy and angst and uGH SO FUCKING GOOD. mature rating ig

way down we go - beautiful drarry fic. werewolf harry. after the war. setting: america. ao3, completed, 109k words, 29 chapters. almost everyone is gay. lookin at you romione.

dear your holiness - fleabag vibes galore. priest remus lupin. need i say more. completed. ao3, 140k words, 12 chapters. oh it's also a band au. smutty.

blackbird - first ever drarry fic, i think. absolutely amazing. werewolf harry again. i don't remember if there's smut. WATTPAD, completed, 22 chapters. (the writer's other shit is also very good so give their profile a looksie‼️)

four to the end (series) - long haul series of the marauders through their years at hogwarts. remus pov. ongoing (book three is currently underway with a regular posting schedule). each book is about 600—700k words

only the young - jegulus, read my daughter's fic rn. deaf!regulus, coda james. need i fuckin say more???? ongoing.

bare my heart to the stars in paris - i uhm...oh...well uh yeah. it's like that sometimes. victuuri. omegaverse...ao3 type shit yk. incomplete. most likely abandoned but yeah. super smutty. a lot of smutty.

blackbird - TW WORLD WAR 2 so expect all the shit that comes with that. victuuri, completed 107k words. 7 chapters.

where the cliff meets the sea - victuuri, pirates au. explicit. ao3. again tw for many things involving that period, such as racism and homophobia

clandestine - never ever in my life cried for a fic before. anyway. jegulus. slow burn. regulus pov. trans reg. tw for a lot of internalised and external homophobia/transphobia. 142k words. completed. 47 chapters.

dragon prince and winter swan - a song of ice and fire au, victuuri, slow burn. 121k words. completed.

twist of fate - drarry, 302k words, completed, memory loss fic. fic is from 2012 chat holy camoli. super angst. 4th year type shizzle.

astra inclinant - now i know we love scorbus bUt. i raise you scorpius x james sirius. come onnnn tell me you're not tempted by best friends brother AGAIN lolz anyway it says 37/38 but im pretty sure its finished (i havent finished reading it myself but alas) 336k words yorh my bruh.

blackberry jam - wattpad fanfiction, drarry. 46 parts SO FUCKING GOOD

flowershop boy - a fucking wattpad drarry classic folks. freckled draco for life dawg

TEXT TALK ISSNXKDNSJNXJDDN WOLFSTAR DJENDKFMDMDK

beneath a big blue sky - wolfstar, side jily. ao3 completed. 10 chapters.

zanko - FUCKING BEAUTIFUL 1OOk words, 16/16, victuuri. edo period historical yup yup

um...reblog with updates???? idk