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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 1 year ago

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"You don't know my name, do you? Will you ever?"

Summery: beomgyu keeps his promises--he walks you from and sometimes to work, hangs out there with you. its all very comfortable and usual for the both of you. he even orders the same thing every time he comes in: your wonderful hot chocolate you make him. noting is new, its all been done before a thousand times between the two of you. why? you and Beomgyu have been friends for ever. that's great. You and him have also become a sort of... intertwined. more than just being together; youve grown together. also great. but what happens when you do something out of the ordinary? or rather, maybe the two of you stop keeping your promises and let the feelings youve pushed down so hard you feel like youre about to combust bubble up? also great.

a/n: long hair gyuuuuuu based on 'you don’t know my name'!!!!! its one of my favorite (if not my singular favorite) song by her. and besides... come on y'all, its beomgyu so I had to lol. yerin and I talked about this during he 300 subs special (even though SHE doesn't seem to remember it lmao) so here I am holding up my end of the deal and making my fic based on this song. if you liked it please leave some love such as commenting and or reblogging!

warnings/info: slow burn I guess, kissing, reader and Beomgyu go to a party, mentions of people fucking, Beomgyu gets in an extremely heated argument with a complete stranger at said party, I feel like I ranted a bit too much with the fic, a little poem-ish at times I think, reader and gyu are scared to go into uncharted territory with thier friendship, lots and lots and lots of talk of reader and beomgyu needing to control themselves around each other, cursing, beomgyu being sweet and them slow dancing cause that's a warning in itself, one joke about beomgyu and reader fucking? idk its not said explicitly tho this was way too self indulgent I apologize, friends to lovers, reader is gn.

~this is simply a piece of fiction. my imagination onto "paper." this is in now way meant to be taken as an actual or real representation of anyone~

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A sharp, wind chime sounding ping makes you spring out of your thoughts to look at the door. Your smile. Huh right on the dot. Your eyes are met with the handsome fetures of your most frequent customer: beomgyu. Hair touching the nape of his neck and eyes bright as ever despite the mugginess outside. though its not all bad-- it makes him remember how one time last winter on your usual walk-from-your-work-with-him, he had stood behind you and wrapped you in his coat, bringing you flush with his clothed chest. it was oversized on him and noting, he thinks, could have prepared him for how you melted into him.

you noticed his wandering eyes and raise you voice to snap him out of it.

“why do you look like that?” you ask. it’s slow at work right now and you say that because you don’t want him to notice your heart pounding. You know if you don’t distract him he’ll do so. He pays enough attention and knows you all too well to hide it. “oh I dunno I just went for a run. No! It’s because it’s raining buckets out there!” “Yeah YOU running? That didn’t sound right” his mouth hangs open a little "um excuse you." he puffs his chest out. "I-I run." the way he's shaking his head while speaking gives him away if you already didn't know him so well. maybe a little too well. but, you tried not to think about that too much. how you

“I’ll have the hot chocolate” he says, although you know what would fall out of his lips just the Same as last time, and the time before that. And many roles before. You know how he likes it (extra sweet. “Just like you” he says. Before you squeeze you nose) but seriously you don’t think you’ve ever known someone who liked such a sugary thing. It nearly tasting like straight candy

“not many people order hot chocolate in the summer. You sure you want that?” “Yeah, it’s a comforting drink ya know.” Something he always used to drink as a kid. Before he met you. Before he didn’t have to watch what he said around someone like you because of half giddy and half eyes to the floor bashfulness he’ll feel if he slips up and gets a little too flirty. Says something a little too strong to you. Not that you’d mind. No, not at all. But he doesn’t need to know you feel that way.

"Yeah but with everything?" you ask, still making it but wondering anyways. He leans further in, putting his hands on the table. "How come you're just asking me this now? we've been doing this for such a long time and now is when it pops into your mind that it's weird to have it with breakfast, lunch, and dinner?" you roll your eyes at him. but really, you weren't annoyed at all. the truth was you awaited the never-the-same times he'd come in and order that same, warm and comforting drink. (it depend on his classes, and or what he had to do inbetween) It had gotten on the point where one of the other workers there would tap your shoulder and let you know that he was there when you didn't notice.

"your guy is here." one of the workers there would tell you. In a moment of weakness, beomgyu would pop into your mind and your eyes would go wide as you looked for him. "he's not my guy." you'd try and cover your tracks but with the knowing smile on your work friends face as they walked away, you knew it wasn't any use.

"we've been doing this forever." his words rung in your ears. he was right. you had been. you'd both been seeing each other so much and resisting the bubbling urge to kiss the shit out of each other. You'd been inching dangerously close to him, but never as close as you really wanted and craved, the warmth of his heart ghosting your skin... forever. he'd been avoiding your gaze-- the one that made him feel like all the four seasons were swirling up inside him and somehow all their wonder landing in you, seeping out in all the little things you did... forever. To be honestly, neither of you knew how long you could keep this up.

but here you are, thinking of and loving noting more than seeing his eyes fill with excitement as you hand him the mug. he cups it with both his hands even though it isn't cold inside so it wasn't like he needed to warm his hands. "You know, you should just keep your own mug here." you comment. he looks up at you, about to take a sip and obviously not very happy you interrupted his almost-bliss. though, in his mind, it wasn't that different-- no, it could not compare to the feeling he got around you. "Or maybe I should just bring one with me." he jokes, lips pursing to blow the steam off the surface of the delicious smelling drink. "Yeah," you nod, "and bring a plate while you're at it-- you know what," you lean on the counter in front of him, knuckles going under your chin and fingertips folded enough to touch the beginning of your palm. And he'd rather not look at you through the fog emanating from the porcelain mug so he puts it down, leaning in for dramatic effect. "Better yet, take it with you when you leave so I don't have to wash it!" you eyes go wide and you throw your hands up like you just had the best idea of the century-- better than sliced bread.

he puts a hand to his chest, leans back with his mouth hung wide open, and then gets up with his hands to his head pulling at his hair like he just had an epiphany. you laugh freely as he walks around in a circle. once he's back at the counter he slams his hands down on the edge of it and looks all serious. "You've got it, y/n! this is gonna make history!" he exclaims. You take a bow just for kicks and when you come back up his expression has suddenly changed. its gone much... softer, a smile is tugging at his lips and he can't help it but to let it free once he sees your smiling face again... smiling because of him, too. because of the joy you two make together. its unmatched, really. His fingertips feel flushed like his face, and aren't holding on so tightly to the cold metal edge of the counter. he's leaning in now, for what reason he doesn't really know. damn, he wants and fucking needs to be closer to you. he feels it in his core.

Then, he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes and in an instant you send him on a whirlwind. usually he distracts himself and looks at something else but he just couldn't bring himself to this time. He wants to set up an easel and capture your entire expression right here but your eyes... your eyes he's sure made his plan he's trying to stick to of not getting caught in your gaze. or, better yet, not getting caught gazing at you. but, for someone he knows so well and for so long, it wasn't easy. because, every time you speak, every time he looks at you, every time he even thinks of you, his mind starts to cloud with all the goodness he sees inside you. every inch of your mind he knows and all the other filled up spaced he wants to adventure into.

How could he stop his mind from getting tied up in the wonder of a human that was you? He sure couldn't, and nobody in their right mind would be able to. He snaps himself out of his thinking before you can think to do it yourself. Lord knows if you caught him spacing out at a time like this you'd give him one of your infamous smacks on the ears and he'd shriek so loud out of surprise people outside would hear him. "You're making me waste valuable time on drinking this." he chuckled, holding a finger up to you to signal: one minute, as he takes a few big gulps. he puts the cup down and leans back.

"one of your best, y/n." he complements.

you raise an eyebrow. "Oh? so there's a hierarchy and competition for best of y/ns hot chocolate now? if I would've known I would've made it look all cute." you said, getting back to work behind the counter. the place was pretty dead at the moment but there was still a few things needing tone done. "Come to think of it, I should deduct points for not putting a cinnamon heart on the surface." he wonders aloud. "Oh so just a heart would suffice? noting else?" you ask him. "well why not?" he nearly giggles, "Thought you loved me." You simply smile and roll your eyes at him, not really having the opurtunity to have any type of conversation like that here. although you wanted to. and it didn't really have to go the way you intended it. but if he-- or the both of you for that matter, were gonna go there, then you might as well and a full on sit down talk about it. again not that you didn't want to at all-- in fact, you'd thought about how it'd go down plenty more times then truly necessary. And what better place to have it in than where you two had met?

maybe it was just you making excuses for yourself; for putting it off just one more day. one more week. one more month. or basically one more eternity of longing stares and cut of sentences where, you wanna say more but ultimately fail to. the conversation now seemingly over, he shrugs and finishes his drink.

He stays and orders another extra extra sweet, practically caffeinated, slap you in the face to jolt you into operating at top speed crack drink that was his or your signature hot chocolate. this is a habit of his-- one he'd likely have to break soon if this floating feeling of his keeps up and un-in check. but a habit the both of you cherish-- where he comes in and stays until you have to leave. most of the time you don't even get to talk much. but the comfort that comes right along with your presence around each other makes up for it. thats another habit with the two of you: just being in the same room and doing different things. it was pure comfort just being around each other. maybe looking over and smiling at the other or striking up a conversation that could last a minute or the rest of time he was there or in other situations, the rest of time you'd were together-- however long you both wanted it, really. and it was never awkward, either. the silence never aching.

that's how it was when you first started walking back to your respective places after your shift. another habit of his, one you hope, along with the others, would never die. him staying for a while, talking a bit... or a lot with you, then walking together. usually it was him walking you home but others it'd just be whatever you two wanted that day. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his acid washed jeans when you look over at him.

"Did you grow or something?" you question.

"maybe you shrunk, hm?" he countered.

you narrowed your eyes at him. he turns to you and does the same. "Very adult of you." You scoff. "You started--" then, realizing that continuing to say was he was going to wasn't going to help his case in the slightest. It barely falls silent for a second before he, in a moment of either weakness or some extreme courage he doesnt know, he slows down a little, gently puts his hands onto your waist, finger finding place scrunched in your shirt, and stills you. though, with the rapid beating of your heart you didn't need any help to do so. He gently moves you to the inside of the sidewalk. he doesn't know why. it's kinda stupid really. he doesn't even have a reason expect that's how you two are usually walking. but it isn't ever really intentional. Usually he just gets out the door of the diner first and you follow soon after. but he liked it that way. it felt warm and comfortable.

he clears his throat. "So, you were saying?" you look back up at him, not too stunned to speak or anything just....thinking. time still in its frozen capsule like it was a moment ago with his hands on your waist. "I feel like you've grown." you say simply, verbally shrugging. he takes a look at his own arms as if that would give him an idea as to what you're talking about. "I know you haven't but," you sigh, unsure of where you're even going with this, "I dunno you seem different." the both of you are still facing forward, not having looked at each other since a minute ago. "Is that a good thing or a bed thing?" You smile. "good. definitely good." "that's good that it's good." he laughs.

"oh piss off!" You chuckle at him, shaking you head. a second later you don't hear his steps anymore and turn around to see him saying "gladly." and start to walk in the other direction. You yell at him to get his ass back here and he turns on his heel, trotting back to you with a smile on his face, eyes hidden by his hair as he looks down. "But yeah," you say once he's back to walking beside you, "You've defiantly grown. not in height, but how you are as a person now." he hums. "I guess I can see that. you have too, you know?" you quirk and eyebrow.

"like--" he takes a breath, "You've grown... not like you act completely different now, but you've just--" you get what he's trying to say. "Blossomed?" He nods, but before he can start talking again you're already opening your mouth. "So have you. Not like you weren't someone I wanted to spend a lot of time with when were first met but you've grown into this person who-who has so much depth to them. like sure, you look a little different and youve changed your hair countless times, but I think you've bloomed in a way. And I love that you have; that you've made yourself out to be who you are right now." he purses his lips together.

"hey, it's not all me, ya know? Ive only been able to grow the way you said I have because I've got you by my side. actually, no, more than that, I've got you coaching me and trying to help. And have you taken a look In the mirror? its not just me that's grown internally since we've both met. I feel like... You're more you know than you were before. or at least not as afraid to show who you are." "that's cause I have you cheering me on, beom." he smiles at the nickname, something you've had for him forever. just like how you've been learning each other inside and out forever. But he also smiles at himself. he was your personal hype man, as you'd say, wasn't he? "And im really proud of you for flourishing like you have." he says. "Im proud of us." you counter, "for both becoming more than we were before."

all that was missing was two glasses to toast. "Yeah, and we're achieving that together, too. we have been forever. and I know that's why its unfolding so beautifully-- it takes the two of us to pull something so great off like that." you try not to get all fluttery inside by the prospect of him thinking that you're "great." cause there isn't much to it, really. plain and simple. he thinks you're great... or the journey youve taken with him so far is great or whatever... it should stop there for you. but that's the thing: with him, it never does.

It kinda hits the both of you right in the face at that moment. and you realize all you need to know about how the other person feels the same way when your caught looking at each other and saying more or less the same thing of: "wow, I think our lives are intwined now and I love that."

as the minutes go on, you both talk about some of the ways youve seen this with each other-- growing internally as youve both said. You bring up something, then him, it goes on like this until you both have a realization. "...But seriously, though." you cause, "Im glad that we're like this." "Im happy we can be like this too. and to be honest, I don't just want to be a better person, I wanna be a better person with you." he quickly cocks his head to the side, almost like he was punctuating his sentence. "I was just about to say that! I like growing with you. it's amazing. and you make me want to be better. not in a competitive way though. I just wanna move along with life with you next to me."

He puts a hand to his chest, hopping it would distract him from how fast his heart was beating. It had the opposite affect, though, drawing his attention to it under his palm. "Im glad youve been in my life for so long." he says, wondering jut how far he was going to take all this confessing how wonderful it was to have you by his side. wouldn't this make more of an impact on he both of you than just making you smile? or was he making it more than it was? he probably was to be honest; friends tell each other how much they value each other all the time. just... probably the ones who's heart feels like its about to lift him up and fly him away to the moon, stay away from it.

"And I am glad we're in each others lives to often that we can brighten each others days whenever the other needs it." he nods in agreement, not trusting himself to talk more because he'll surely say all that he thinks of you... and us. the rest of the walk is spent back in the comfortable, fireplace like silence like the first couple minutes of it. Once you get to your front door and your back is turned, he draws in a breath. "It is wonderful to have you in my life, y/n. I don't think you can understand how great it is and how much I love it." you're about to swing open your door but you turn around to look in the eye. "Me too. I love how it feels to have you by my side." you really wish you had something more to say but it seems like its enough for him. cause a second later and he's nearly skipping away from your door. You shake you head at him and go inside.

He scratches the back of his neck, thinking entirely too much about what you had said to him. There was a thousand ways you could have meant hit but for some reason he only wanted to think of it as one. the one where you actually secretly wanted to kiss him every time you hugged goodbye. One where you'd invite him into your place for hot chocolate and he'd stay, and long, long while; only really going back to his home for clothes cause fuck, if he had you like that he wouldn't dream of letting you go or leaving you for as long as he could.

God, It was almost uncanny how, you knew what to call him, but his name? that was something else entirely it felt like now.HIs own name had come to be you. that was how much you were written on his heart; written like law on stone. so engraved in his mind that he felt like you were with him all his life... except with this it was more like someone who knew him his entire life but suddenly stoped paying attention for a very important mile marker, then suddenly started up paying attention again, completely glossing over something that was so important to him. Like his name: but now youve replaced it with your own an the wasn't mad about it. and you didn't know, did you? would you ever know his name?

and, in the middle of all his swirling like a hurricane that brought peace instead of distruction, he wondered if you were ever feeling the same thing. did you think of him the way he thought of you?

He knew everything about you, as did you, he, you thought as you slipped off your shoes at the door. But you figured that, since friends need to be honest as much as they can, that wasn't entirely true. cute there was this one, not so small thing youve never shared with him. something that was such a big part of you it might as well be your name. The way you felt when he was near, when you thought of him, fuck, even when someone mentioned him. at this point, him-- and feeling this was about him was such a bug thing that it had become a part of you. he had become a part of you. and just like a name it was something you wanted and needed to tell the whole world. including him.

but there was the problem, you couldn't just scream it out for everyone to hear. that's why youve been waiting. Even though it was takin g a long time for him to figure out that big giant part of you that thad become as second nature as a name. Beomgyu was smart, but apparently he was stupid when it came to this. but seriously, with all the slip ups youve been having recently, you're starting to wonder if he's deliberately not understanding you and your feelings. Like is he that dense or does he just not want you?

You shoot him a message none the less; telling him to text when he got home unless you'll start to worry.

===

The next time you talk was on the phone on your way to work. He likes to walk you there, too. but today just happened to be one of those days where it couldn't happen. But you missed his presence on the street that reminded you of the talk you had yesterday so the next best thing was to call him. "Hey, it's the server from the diner." You say. "yeah, I know." It was a throwback to when he'd given his number to the place so he could get a free delivery. Though he was hoping you'd pick up on it and call him. and you did. you were the one who had to call to let him know his order had arrived and was currently getting cold outside his door. you had ended the call with him apologizing profusely.

One thing lead to another and you made a follow up call on how the food tasted. you heard him smiling from the other end of the phone as he says, "great as always." You barely thought he would even pick up so you didn't know what to say after that. "especially the hot chocolate." he aded then. And now you're the one smiling uncontrollably. After a few minutes on the phone that day your heart is leaping with excitement. so the next time he comes in, you talk with each other more freely. and now you had his number so when he doesn't come in for a few days you remembered mustering up the courage to text him. "I really wanted to come over there. hot chocolate would probably help cure whatever I have." you felt stupid. duh of course he was just sick, why were you so worried?

within the hour, hot chocolate was delivered to his door free of cost.

and that's when the friendship began; with him texting you an entire paragraph just to say thanks for the gesture and you two talking back and forth, heart seemingly on the edge of its seat, about hot chocolate and hot drinks in general.

"You know... our manager is always telling us to use water," you repeat now what you said all that time ago, "But I always use milk and cream for you." He's snapped back to the present, with you on the other end of the phone, wind whipping in the mic. "aww you really do care, don't cha?" he laughs, smug smile gracing his lips.he can practically hear you roll your eyes from the other end of the phone. "your welcome." you drawled. "I sincerely thank you for your sacrifice of cream and milk." he said, and it sounds like a joke, but still he's smiling in gratitude none the less. youre about to joke about how he needs to repay you... somehow. but he beats you to it. though... with the way he starts off, it doesn't sound like fully a joke. but just enough of one where he knows you'll listen.

"And as a formal expression of my forever debt to you, I invite you to attend a party with me." You figured you'd play along, his tone not serious enough for you to spend the brain power to actually think of an answer. "yeah, sure, Beom." It was about as real to you as the both of you staying completely quiet during a movie so you played along. at least, you thought you were playing. beomgyu puts his speaker of his phone up to his mouth, nearly making your ears bleed as he yells into it: "no take backs!" then promptly hangs up.

you roll your eyes at him, a little concerned for future you and him but cracking up none the less. The surprised expression on your face when he comes by later to quote "take the both of you shopping for the party the next day." was so priceless he wished he had whipped out his phone quick enough. "I keep my promises." he reminds you as he sits down at his usual bar stool. And he sure does, like the one he's been keeping, weighing on his heart for so long he feels like its going to crack it n a million pieces impossible to pick up, about just how much he feels for you. he made that promise to you to stick by you as friends for as long as you'd have him there long enough to be forgotten. but now him. he remembers it like it was yesterday and he intends to keep his word, especially to you. who knows which way it would take you if he didn't. and the last thing he needs is for you two to be torn apart.

he slumps on the counter and gives you puppy dog eyes. you sigh "No one told me you were serious. that was coercion; I did not understand the phrasing of the question, therefore--" oh, you wanted court of law? he'd give you court of law. "uh uh" he wriggles his finger in your face. "was this under a false pretense? maybe. but did that initially give you the right to call back and or ask further questions? yes. so for that reason youre guilty!" he slams an imaginary gavel down on the white counter. you turn around to take a breath. he kicks his feat. "come on, y/n! I think it'll be fun. and if not then we'll leave right away and go to my place to watch tv. and we'll get a cute outfit out of it either way!" you think about it for a moment. "I need deodorant anyways!"

well it is important not to have a stench.....

he can tell youre thinking about it and he perks up at the sight of your wheels turning behind your eyes. it was one of this favorite things-- watching you think, weigh your options and all. It wasn't like you completely didn't want to go. there was a part of you, one that was soon going to get bigger youre sure. but a part of you right now none the less. so what was stopping you? you wanted to be close to him. you loved being close to him and that meant doing things together. but in an environment like this.... it might pose a problem to lips kept tightly shut and secrets you held behind your back.

You take one last look at him, and if it's a regular response between friends or in a slip up you don't know, but you agree. he nearly jumps up out of his seat in celebration. Why did he suggest this? who knows. was this a good idea? who. the fuck. knows. maybe because he wanted to do something with you. but it was probably something more than that it the back of his mind that made him call you and ask. but he knows full well what almost happened the last time you two went to a party together. a bunch of "aww youre so cute together!" made it seem all a little too real after a while and as the night went on with him eventually stopping himself from telling the truth to these people and him getting seemingly eaten from the inside when he stopped just reviling in the fantasy and remembered that no, youre not together. The night ended somehow with you two coming dangerously close to kissing.

maybe he really just wanted to spend time with you; a sort of do-over. he could control himself this time. or maybe that's what it was... he wanted to test the waters again-- challenge himself and see if he really could have self control. or maybe, just maybe, in the back of his mind he wanted to test the waters another way. maybe he wanted to know if it'd happen again. of course he wouldn't do anything about it; he wanted to keep his promise to you but something felt like it was knocking at the back of his mind.

once your shift is done, he's got a spring in his step as he opens the door for the both of you and bouncing on his heels with a smile on his face telling you to hurry up. and no, you don't just go shopping for deodorant... but instead spend two full hours shopping around. two full hours that consisted of trying on clothes and the both of you having to bite your tongues. because fucking hell, why'd he have to have such a good style? you perk up as he steps out the dressing room for the third time, already preparing yourself for you heart seemingly about to beat out of your chest. "what do you think?" "I think..." his face sinks.... "oh--" he pouts, "no no! it looks great! its just, its white."

he quirks and eyebrow at you. "I have eyes, ya know? I did pick it out." he reminds you, nose and mouth scrunching up in that classic Beomgyu disgusted face. "spillage." you simply say. his eyebrows got up into his hairline. "youre right." the next out fit he comes out with, a little more spillage proof, is what he decides on. he takes another look in the mirror, sighing. "you really think it looks good?" he questions. "I have eyes, ya know?" you echo him. he spins around into the dressing room, away from you as quickly as possible so you didn't have to see the smile on his face and the rosy tint to his cheeks.

When it comes to you and picking out your outfits, while youre walking ahead of him to the dressing rooms, he closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall so he can think for a moment. or... more stop himself form thinking so much than anything. he knows what he's getting himself into. but How you reacted each time he'd first appear out the dressing rooms door with that wistful glassy look in your eyes, almost like you yourself were trying to stop your gears turning.... Times like that gave him hope that maybe yeah, you felt the same way about him as he did you. because just for a short moment he saw the same look in his eyes that they had on him now; trying so hard to stop thinking about you. you, you, you, you.

"I think a round of applause is in order!" you say.-- twenty minutes in. twenty minutes of him bouncing his leg. twenty minutes of you hiding the way his complements make you feel. twenty minutes of the second you shut the door behind you him screaming internally into his palms and twenty minutes of you doing the same. he smiles at you when you come out. "I know. we have good taste." his cheeks seem to be nearly kissing at his lashes as he smiles and he's driving you crazy. "We do, don't we?" you take another look in the mirror.

"You really think it's--" Youre starting to stress over if the outfit really is worth the buy. you like it a lot. but now youre starting to wonder if its a little too little here or too much there and-- "I have eyes, don't I?" he repeats, you turn around and lock eyes with him for just a second too long not to do anything to the both of your heart rates.

===

fast forward to the next night and youre swinging your door open to see him turned the other way. he spins around as soon as he hears the door. You press your lips together and he unconsciously mimics you. "you look really beautiful!" he beams. he's just being your personal hype man as always, and youre not afraid to say that you love it. "Aw you look really beautiful too."

the words slipped past both of your lips like water through fingers. though, unlike water, the words were thick, with feelings long left in the dark hiding behind them. "Oh? so just beautiful? not really--" You step out toward him, closing the door behind you, making you step just a little bit too close to him than usual. "really really beautiful." you clarified. and this time, he doesn't move his head. "thank you." he whispers, voice softer than his hair. and the both of you are unable to move from your doorstep-- frozen in time and space, with the only thing moving being your rapid heart beats and rising chests.

====

he looks at you beside him and can feel your gears turning inside your head, a sight he so badly wants to get lost in but knows he can't. realizing it'd be bad enough with the gorgeous outfit you were wearing and how he was sure at least someone was going to try and hit on you... he'd rather not start getting himself tangled with you now. but he can't seem to move his neck any other way than craned to his left to look at you.

its was just.... as much as he wants an needs to kiss you so badly.... your so Important to him, he thinks as he lags behind a bit, watching you walk ahead. and your friendship is so important to him that they never want to break it, even if that meant shutting his mouth and staying further away, cause in the end that's really what he wanted: to be and stay friends with you. the reason he stayed never has been and never will be just about what he felt for you. your friendship will always be the most important thing to him and heeds never want to jeopardize that and loose you. he'd rather your friendship stay strong than anything.

Your turn around, beckoning him to come closer. he skips to you, so happy you don't know what to do with yourself. "You know--" "no, I don't. I was hoping you'd tell me." you scoff. "I was going to say that im glad you invited me. Im ready to go be extroverts together now and experience all the bad smells and all the loud noises a party has to offer." he laughs, but he knows youre half serious. and he's fully serious when he says he's happy you came.

====

the noise thumps in your ears, nearing making them ring. the lights are dimmer than you thought needed but it-- along with noise and people constantly bumping into each other, sufficed in making the atmosphere very party-like. cause well, it was a party after all. He follows you, both trying to scout out where the kitchen was. you'd planned to stick together, tighter than you did last time, tighter than when the both of you were bombarded with people asking you about each other, and stick together you did.

even when you two went upstairs, trying to find the bathroom, and stumbled upon a couple people fucking and practically biting each others faces off in the room you thought was the bathroom. Beomgyu shuts the door immediately, any longer and you'd both be traumatized. "get your own room!" you hear from behind the heavy door." He looks at you and you back at him before bursting into laughter. "I mean, did you want to orrrr?" you phrase it as a joke, and though he thinks he hears something in the back of your tone, he only rolls his eyes at you. though his brows go up higher than youve ever seen.

The second he's done in the bathroom you lead in downstairs to where the music was the loudest. "I heard it too." he pants, "I was trying to hurry up." you really couldn't believe they were playing this here. it was almost too perfect, you thought. with his body so close to yours, dancing and enjoying the song you both liked. And suddenly, it didn't feel like you were in a crowded room. and for a moment all you could see, and feel, and smell, was him. him and his fingers now reaching for yours, spinning you around, laughing without a care in the world. like it didnt matter that your heart was about to beat out of your chest, making you float on the floor you were dancing on.

Everyone else-- the entire room was blurred. It was just you, and him. him, and you. just as it should be. this didn't happen all the time-- rather, you didn't let it happen all the time. but when it did... you swore youve never felt anything so natural. so--so right and beautiful. You smile and ease him into a dip, now youre both laughing. when he comes up, somehow both his hands ended up in yours and now he's pulled flush against your body. he feels like you both are taking up so much and too little space at the same time--like the whole floor is yours and yours only. he swallows thickly, neither of you making a move to step away. you know it sounds stupid but for a second you can feel as life your hearts are beating as one. and for a seance he feels like maybe this is really real. that it won't end any second and that he isn't having another day dream about slow dancing with you in one of your living rooms; all comfy and--

"I have to go get some water." you say so low that only he hears over the music. you really shouldnt let it goony further than this. at least not here. and as much as you wanted to keep ignoring everyone around you cause with him, were they even there in the first place? you knew you shouldn't, couldn't keep it up for much longer cause being this close to him only made you wanna kiss the shit out of him. "y-youre not--" you look at the next to no gap between you still, hands still closes around each others tightly. you blink to free yourself from the perfect daze youre caught in. the song was barely even slow enough to slow dance to. what you you doing? "moving? I know." and before he could even ask if you to stay longer, youre already pushing yourself off his chest and out of his grasp.

"You sure you don't want me to just go with you?" he nearly stumbles after you. "beom, its just for a second." You whip around to face him, arms crossed defensibly. "but a lot can happen in a second." yeah, I can see that, you say to yourself, thinking about just a moment before where dancing to a song you both liked turned quickly into something that was going to make you stumble. beom, the name echoed in his mind over and over until it flowed into his heart where all the other times youve laughed or called him by that nickname laid. "listen I know youre just trying to uphold our agreement, but seriously, im fine."

he knows he's probably being too worried for you, but he just can't. epically after you'd done that. with your hands clasping his against his chest. god, he never wanted it to end. little did he know neither did you. you did actually need water, being so close to him like that had a track record of making your throat go dry and fingers go numb. it also had a track record of making you get lost in his glazed over eyes. you find a cup and rinse in out before anything cause who knew where its been. a moment later youre about to refill your cup when you hear the unmistakable sound of Beomgyus shriek. followed by someone yelling at him.

oh god what did he get himself into now?

You run to where you last saw him and, finding him not there you rush to where you saw a few people gathered by the stairs. those people who were now making way for beomgyu flying down them. someone hot with anger and hot on his tale. Your brows furrowed as he zooms past you. "im sorry!" you hear him say, "I probably shouldn't have gotten involved but it looked like a pretty heated argument!" oh god? that was what this was about? "Yah!" the person yells behind him. "that's why you shouldve stayed out of it!" then and Beomgyu are both on opposite ends of the sofa, both waiting for the other to make a move. when the person inches right, beomgyu tips to the left. when beomgyu goes the other way, the person follows his movements.

two of the three people move off the sofa to get out the way. god, he really was fucked, wasn't he? you didn't know what to do, really. you left for five minutes and here he was getting screamed profanities at by some random person. You wanted to help, but as beomgyu brings up to the person how the person they were talking with looked hurt, and how they themself looked hurt as well, you leaned against the door frame and just watched.

it was another one of these situations, huh? they didn't look mad enough to really do much of a number on him anyways, and youd step in to stop them any minute now if beomgyu doesn't leave the argument first. And step in a minute later after beomgyu and the person going back and forth tore you apart from the inside out to one, see him so worried like this, and two, hearing them yell next to you with the loud ass music was starting to make your ears bleed you didn't need to do after all. Beomgyu was backing up with his hands in front of him defensively. it didn't feel like you needed to collect him or keep him out of trouble or anything cause he was intentionally trying to start a fight, but you could tell no one was going to get anywhere with this. or at least beomgyu wasn't going to get what he was looking for from the person. So you figured it best to tell it that you two should leave. you grab him by the shoulders and lead him out the door. you were kinda done with the party anyways, having been there quite enough time already.

"im sorry! I ruined our night, didn't I?" he begs. "but they were saying some pretty shitty things about someone and it looked like it was about to turn physical." he practically pleads with you as the night air nips at whatever wasn't covered on you. you stay silent the whole way back to you place. "What have I told you?" you tell more than ask sternly once he's plopped down on his sofa. he hands his head low. "Not to get in the middle of other peoples problems..." he echoes what you say every time something like this happens-- he thinks he can be be everyones knight In shinning armor, protecter and helper to all by getting himself involved. it usually doesn't have such... strong repercussions. most of the time its when he hers whispers of someone talking about their troubles with someone else and he tries to console them. which is fine on its own, but then comes the part where he's getting all caught up in it and he's getting hurt along with them.

and as much as you are shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the situation he got himself into... you purse your lips and try not to catch his eyes from across the sofa. you lean back. "But im not surprised. And it's not because you never learn or that youre stupid or anything, ok? so don't even go there. but that's just who you are, how youve always been since I met you-- caring so much for people, even people you don't know that you'll end up like this trying to help them sometimes. that's one of the things about you that haven't changed one bit since I've met you." he inches closer as if you hear you better, legs folded criss cross on the cushions and hands on his knees.

"don't make me out to be such a hero." he shakes his head. and this time you move a little closer. "Not saying you are just," you pause, knowing what you want to say but wondering if this really was the right time for it. It felt right in your bones and besides when were you going to get another chance like this one? when just a bit ago his hands fit perfectly in yours and you could feel his raging heartbeat under your palms? It was now or never, right? but really, you werent too sure you'd be able to stop yourself now. you might've been in too deep, but with him, never over your head. "just, youre the kindest person ive ever met. n' I just worry you'll get hurt more than youve already gotten in the past-- like youve gotten in the past when you get invested like this."

youre breathing all heavy for some reason, and he's getting that same glassy look in his eyes as earlier in the night. it reminds you of a sugar honey glaze on sweet fruit or a dessert and you can't help but stare int them. "glad to see you care." he shrugs. only his lips move thankfully just in your field of vision, eyes staying locked on yours. "I thought you knew I did. he's unconsciously leaning forward to you, his body following the magnetic pull that was you. though he's only following what seemed natural. "Thought you knew that I did?" you put your face in your palm, elbow balanced on your knee. "Yeah, but..." he trails off, the both of you now impossibly close.

and closer, and closer, and closer until your lips join in a searing kiss. you both sigh in relief into it, having waited so, so long. now your heart was really beating out of your chest, your fingertips no longer numb but boiling with feeling. his hands go from his knees to your hands, grasping them firmly, but gently just like you did to him at the party. he felt like he was floating, like he was suddenly sitting on a cloud and wasn't afraid of falling. god, he's wanted this for so long; for fucking ever. how could he stop now? you pull apart, and now youre thinking how in the world you felt out this long. ".... now the way I want you to." he continues, "not the way I do." you smile, leaning in again to kiss him. it was meant to be a quick peck, but instead it turned into you leaning your body into his and his hands on your arms, running up and down them, making you sink further into him and the seat in warmth.

Now, for a second time, you pull away. "Does that help answering how much I care?" he's smiling like a mad man at your words. "so I guess I didn't ruin our night?" he says, more to get his Brian working properly more than anything. "The opposite. I wanted to leave with you anyways." and now he's nearly jumping out of his seat to to do a little happy dance. he couldnt help it, though. especially when you were pulling him back in by his shirt balls dup in your fist and smashing your lips together.

when you pull apart though, instead of smiling in each others faces, the both of you shoot up. oh god... oh god! what did you just do? it wasn't suppose to go like this, he thinks as you rush to put your shoes on at the door. No words were exchanged between the two of you, though. except: "Hey... I--" "no no!" you say a little too loudly, "no, its fine. we don't ever need to speak of this again, sound good?" his lips form a line at your words. he shoots you a thumbs up. "...yeah." it wasn't what he wanted, that's of for user. but what other choice did he have? didn't look like you were ready for it to happen, so my default, now he wasn't either.

it wasn't like you two avoided each other at all costs in the week after the incident. no, not at all. you were friends above anything and everything, and such close friends that being like that to each other would've killed the both of you. and it wasnt like you were mad at each other... but now the silence on your walks together felt.... uncomfortable; unnatural and weird. like you needed to fill it with pointless talking to distract you from how there was this... air in the midst of you two-- like you knew what the other wanted, craved and needed but were too scared to do something about it.

that's why he knew he had to do something about it. so here he was, barging into the diner you worked past closing time. You quickly run to the door to unlock it for him. not like you were doing anything better anyways, watching the raindrops slide down one of the many windows as you wiped down each table. he was later than he usually was, but it looked like he was here for more than just to pick you up. the look in his eyes said it all. You turn around as soon as you pull the door open for him. "we're closed, Beom." the nickname slipped off your tongue so easily it was like you had forgotten the incident the week before, and how you promised yourself you'd back away even more than you had to keep it from happening again.

it wasn't like you didnt want it to. god was it the opposite. it was just... new, and scary. you knew that wasn't the best excuse but it was all you had. he was, in a way all you had. You didn't really know what moving along that road would mean. you knew it'd be good. but again, it was new and scary.

"I can't loose you." he pants behind you. for once he it was raining and for once he did run here. he spreads his arms wide, his long hair dripping on his shoulders. "And I can't-- I can't believe we let this come between us. and I don't want to let the wedge be driven any further." when you still don't respond, back still turned he gets more desperate, running a worried hand through his hair. "Come on, y/n! we're best friends!" you slam your towel down on the counter. "yeah, well maybe that's why this should've never fuckin happened." your words make the room go silent. you didn't yell it, you didnt exclaim it, you basically whispered it, but it boomed like a bomb going off none the less.

he was too important-- your relationship, whatever it may be, was too important to let go; you knew that. he knew that. he didnt say a word, realizing that he might say something to make the situation worse. he knew he was staying after hours, then again, it reminded him of how it would be between the two of you a week ago when you'd still talk the same. he'd come in, you'd make him the best hot chocolate he'd ever tasted next to his moms, and then he'd sit at the same bar stool and you'd talk for hours, barely making a move to actually go home. but eventually, after helping you with cleaning, he'd walk you home.

but for watts its worth, neither of you wanted to go back to those times, even after everything quite liking how the experience of the incident felt. You invite him to go to your place to talk it out some more. having the same idea, he agrees readily.

"I haven't been completely honest with you." you say, youve been talking for a little over a hour now, somehow slipping into how it was about a week ago along the way back to your place, and you don't think youve felt something so good-- so reliving, in a very long time. "I haven't been telling the whole truth either." no other words are uttered between the two of you, opting to lean ever so frustratingly and tantalizingly slow into each other,. his hand coming to rest on your thigh, folded underneath you at the knee on his sofa. you place your hand on top of his has your lips connect, a long awaited satisfied sigh is breathed into each others face, the air tickling you. youre rubbing circles on the back of his hand as his mind races. it was a kiss you poured all your feelings into. one where you spilled into it how you needed him with you so so so bad. how you wanted him beside you even more than he already was. how you were sorry it took you so long, and how you couldn't wait to keep being beside each other. you could feel him pour all that and more into his side of it and you reviled in the feeling, settling into it like it was second nature.

you blink a couple times when you pull apart, glad that you took your talk someplace else now. and well, I guess the both of you know now. youve now pulled out of the dark that beautiful little thing you two were hiding.

Now you both know just that one more, not so little thing you needed-- what was on each of your hearts the most.

~end~

Can’t believe never written a solely beomgyu fic before anyways as I’ve said if you liked it please comment and or reblog since tumble works on that system and liking it only bookmarks it for you :) I hope you enjoyed!!!

©️2023copyrightofshutupheathersorryheatherr do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works even if you give me credit

taglist: @itz-yerin

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu txt #choi beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x poc reader #beomgyu had me fainting™️ (as always) on this one #tomorrow x together #ghosts writing

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koqabear · 5 months ago

Text

Divinity for the Damned

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.”

“What sweet bliss it is to follow the teachings of God. To put in your faith and trust wholeheartedly, even if it means getting nothing in return.”

fallen angel! Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: horror, religious au, smut, angst

Word count 18.3K

warnings: i was delirious when i proof read this sorry in advance, very detailed descriptions/elements of the catholic church, mc is super duper religious, and innocent, lots of religious guilt, corrupt church members, assault in one scene, sacrilege and blasphemy i suppose, abuse of power, manipulation, guilt tripping, MCD, slight gore, violence, cannibalism…? aha…

smut warnings: dubcon/coercion, manhandling, mind breaking, corruption, virgin!mc, sub!mc, condescending soft dom!beomgyu, blindfolding/sensory deprivation? dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f. rec) edging, overstimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie. lmk if i should add anything!

notes: hi guys! i have no idea how i got here.

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The day is wintry and cast with a heavy snow; it is advised for citizens to remain inside due to the extreme weathers, flurries falling outside your bedroom window that is tinted with a frost that creeps from the corners. But it is Sunday morning, and a simple snowfall will do nothing to deter your humble duties.

Today, you rush to get ready; the layers of clothes on your form make it difficult for you to pull on your snow boots, thick and warm as your fingers fumble to lace and tie the shoes— you’ve begun to feel overheated, but you’re sure all the layers you have on will not go to waste the moment you exit your home. Standing with a huff of exertion, you pull the coat on you just a little bit tighter; with a gloved hand and one final glance at the clock, you finally open your door and make your way out.

The little village is quiet today. The snow is up to your ankles— it makes the trek to the church a little more difficult than usual, and it’s not as though the gravelly paths were any more helpful. A wind carries flurries into the air, sticking to your clothes and onto your hair— it makes your skin sting and your arms come up to hug yourself instinctually, a hand coming up to rest on your chest, almost able to feel the cross necklace that’s tucked beneath all your clothes— your fingers press against the layers, able to feel the pressure of the delicate charm on your skin.

Shops are open, but they aren’t very busy; it seems as though the snow has turned the place into a ghost town, and you wonder with a frown if a simple change in weather was enough to make people set aside their duties— in the distance, the tall pinnacles of the church begin to fade into view, a sight of a cross at the very top of each one bringing a sense of relief into your system, like a warmth that floods into your veins.

There are twenty minutes left before the mass begins. But even so, you note that there are not many others making their way inside— your frown tugs at your lips a little deeper, and you’re too lost in thought to take note of cracked path before you; your foot is catching and you fall to the ground unceremoniously, yelping at the impact and the snow that drenches your tights and dress within seconds.

Your knees sting; with the multitudes of layers you have on, it’s a lot more difficult to stand— you’re wincing in pain from both the cold and the fall, your gloved hands now soaked as you try to steady them on the ground to help you up; you stumble slightly, the weight of your clothes now doubled as you fall back onto your knees— you huff with frustration, your head hung down in defeat.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

The voice is gentle and melodic; like a song in your ears, breathy, deep and smooth as you look up with surprise, not expecting anyone else to witness your fall— your face is heating up pitifully and your eyes are widening the moment they meet with those of a stranger, a man whose beauty is almost otherworldly; his hair is long and covered with flurries of snowflakes, decorated along his head and in his bangs like a crown— his face is blushing a soft red from the cold and his eyes are filled with concern; briefly, your eyes flicker up to his furrowed brows, taking notice of the scar that decorates his face, reddened and stopping just above his eye, a small deformity on his otherwise perfect face.

He looks like a prince.

“I–I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out, still a bit dumbfounded by this captivating stranger, trying your best to remain composed as you take his outstretched hand for help; his hand is warm— no, it’s hot, even through your gloves— the contrast of temperature startling you for a moment; you try not to show it, much more distracted by the way his grip tightens instantly and he’s pulling you up with a surprising strength, the motion so sudden and unexpected that you’re stumbling out of balance; with a swift hand on the small of your back, the man steadies you.

“I’ve… never seen you around before,” you say softly, continuing your attempt to remain casual as you shrug his hands off you, taking a step back and trying to ignore the lingering heat his touch left— and you smile politely, hands folded in front of you as you tilt your head.

“Ah, I moved here recently,” the man explains, sending you a smile that’s just as charming as the rest of him; his eyes scan your sullied outfit, wet with snow and dirty at the knees, and he frowns. “You must be terribly cold. I suggest you go home and change.”

Your hands are patting your clothes off immediately in response; small clusters of snow that stuck to you fall off with every swat of your hands, attempting to rub at the dirt with your soaked gloves as you merely laugh him off and shake your head— you’re glancing back at the church in the distance, and are suddenly reminded of your responsibility.

“I’ll be alright, I assure you,” you say softly, doe eyes bright and optimistic, even if he seems doubtful of your words, “I have somewhere I need to be— it’s much warmer in there anyway.”

“Oh?” he says, raising a brow and scanning over your appearance once more, wondering what could possibly require such dedication from you, “may I ask where you’re headed?”

“Sunday mass,” you say eagerly, your voice sweet and lovely— and though his expression is suddenly unreadable, you remain enthusiastic as you continue, “If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to come— our church is beautiful, you’d get to meet so many amazing people.”

Mass is starting soon— you’re visibly antsy to go inside, yet you remain patient as you wait for the man’s answer— and though you’ve always been used to the polite turn downs from others you’ve offered to in the past, you can’t help but get your hopes up the longer you wait for a response.

He sighs; it’s soft and would have remained unnoticed under your gaze, except it comes out as a smoky puff of air due to the cold weather— his gaze skirts away from yours, lost in thought for a second, and you can feel yourself deflate as you begin to brace yourself for yet another rejection. But then he glances back at you, lips pursing and gaze taking you in slowly as he begins to speak. “I suppose I can,” he says gently, smiling at the way you’re immediately lighting up again, “I don’t have much else going on today anyway.”

A smile spreads through your face; you’re trying to control yourself and remain unfazed, but it’s a lot more difficult than you anticipated as you merely nod happily like a puppy— with his soft lead the way, you’re nodding again and taking him to your safe space.

“You never told me your name,” the man says suddenly, the two of you making your way up the steps to the church— you’re turning to him in surprise, mouth parting in slight shock as you realize that you really didn’t introduce yourselves— and you’re telling him your name softly, your tone a lot shyer than you expected, feeling small under the intense gaze of this handsome stranger. He laughs softly, eyes filled with amusement as he repeats your name back to you— it sounds so captivating and fragile on his lips, and you try to ignore the way the sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Beomgyu,” he says before you can direct the question back at him— and just like he did for you, you’re testing his name with your own voice, taking his nod of approval with a smile.

Conversation dwindles down the moment the two of you enter the building; it is low in light due to the cloudy day and the candle-lit lanterns that don’t fully light up the large establishment, and a warmth engulfs the two of you the moment the heavy wooden doors shut behind you; sending Beomgyu another encouraging smile, you take him softly by the arm and lead him further inside— you promptly stop at a small basin filled with holy water, dipping three of your fingers in and crossing yourself slowly, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to mouth an unintelligible words— and while Beomgyu is presumably doing the same, you take this time to say a brief prayer.

Beomgyu simply watches you with blank eyes. He makes no movements to follow after you, watching apathetically as your brows twitch and your eyes remain shut for a few seconds more, sweeping his gaze over the area as he will his lips to not upturn in distaste— his expression morphs to one of content the moment you’re opening your eyes to look at him again, the only thing to fuel his feet to move being the way your delicate hand squeezes his bicep gently, as though you were leading a scared animal into the unknown— he can’t help but find your mannerisms amusing, filled with an overwhelming innocence he hasn’t seen in a long time.

As a child, your family moved a lot— going from town to town, your father offered newer and better opportunities due to his trade— and, just like you, your family remained dedicated during it all, never failing to find a church to become a part of, a place to spend their Sundays and worship their God. Because of this, you’ve seen and been in more churches than you can keep track of; able to take in different interiors and atmospheres, different communities and sermons— yet, despite attending more churches than this whole town combined, you’ve found that the one you currently stand in cannot even bear to rival the others— it is wholeheartedly your favorite.

Nothing quite compares to the feeling of warmth and comfort this quaint building brings you, from the friendly smiles others in the community send you the moment they see you, to the smell of incense and flowers that fills your nose the further you walk down the nave, automatically going to your usual pew closest to the altar; the spot is basically reserved for you at this point, anyone who has come to this church at least once knowing that the third pew away from the altar is your favorite spot.

Beomgyu trails a little behind you. A little hesitant, you think— it must be difficult being thrust into such a new environment so suddenly, and you’re stopping in your tracks to turn around and reach for him with a kind smile.

He seems startled by your sudden gesture. His expression is completely lightening up within seconds, and if you hadn’t been dreadfully nervous to offer him your hand so you could walk together, you would have been able to pinpoint the clear scorn in his gaze— instead, all you’re able to see is the way his brows raise in surprise and his gaze turns warm, smiling fondly as he takes your hand; he tucks it snuggly in the crook of his arm before he’s nodding at you to continue walking.

You’re suddenly much more aware of the eyes pinned on you— you’re sure many must be surprised to see you with someone new, always used to you coming in early and quietly, head bowed down and mind already lost in prayer— and in this condition nonetheless, your body heating up slightly as you stare down at the ghastly state of your clothes.

“Relax,” Beomgyu suspires, leaning close to your ear so only the two of you can hear his words; his other hand reaches to place itself over your gloved hand, and again, you can feel the heat of his touch permeating through the wool. “You look lovely. A bit of snow or dirt could never take away from your beauty.”

His sudden compliment has your face heating up and reacting drastically; you can only squeak out a flustered oh, in response, unable to do much more than look in the opposite direction and stare at the scarlet rug that rolls down the nave— and you’re arriving at your usual spot, close enough to the altar that you’re bowing in respect— stiffly, Beomgyu is pulled down with you; his jaw clenches at the action.

The sermon begins as usual and proceeds as it always does— though, with Beomgyu at your side, you seem to have garnered quite a lot of attention to you; from others around you eagerly wanting to wish you and Beomgyu peace, shaking his hand firmly and with looking up at him with awe-stricken eyes, to the priest’s gaze that inevitably falls back onto the two of you again and again, not used to the scrutiny in his eyes as you flush with heat at the sudden realization of what others might be assuming the two of you are— as subtly as possible, you try to make space between the two of you, using the armrest of the pew as your excuse to scoot away as you try your best to remain inconspicuous, pretending to get comfortable and resting your arm against it.

Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pick up on your particular train of thought— he’s sending you a curious glance before he’s closing the space between the two of you again, feeling the way your body stiffens and your back straightens the moment you feel him against you, thigh against thigh; the small pressure of his body against yours enough to have you flustering pathetically, lips pressing together as you try to keep your expression neutral.

But if there’s one thing Beomgyu has learned about you from the short time he’s gotten to know you, it’s that you’re undeniably terrible at keeping a poker face; all your thoughts are written across your expression clear as day and seep into your body language— anyone who has you in their line of sight would be able to immediately pick up on your flustered and shy state.

You’re such an innocent little thing; like a lamb, Beomgyu thinks, gaze visibly boring into your side profile as you attempt to pretend as though you’re unaware of it, even if the nervous fiddling of your fingers gives you away. There’s an air of purity around you that is simply enticing, unable to pretend as though he isn’t endeared to you the moment you finally break and turn to look at him once it is time to receive the eucharist, bright, wide eyes silently asking if he’ll join you— he shakes his head no gently, and you’re nodding in understanding before you finally scurry away to get in line.

Your heart is pounding; you’ve never thought a man could have such an effect on you, your poor brain confused and running laps to try to reason why you can’t even keep eye contact with him for more than a second— you’ve just met him, just a little bit ago, yet even so you can’t help but feel a strange pull toward him, undeniably charmed by both his looks and soothing aura— your hand goes to place itself onto your heart, a weak attempt to steady it’s erratic beating. The charm of your necklace presses against your skin, and as it nears to be your turn, you pray for your heart to have more resilience.

“The Body of Christ.”

Beomgyu watches as you stand dutifully before the priest. He watches as the older man stares down at you with an intense gaze, one that seems to hold silent disappointment; he watches as the priest looks back at him, their eyes meeting and his gaze hardening before it falls back onto you— with a twisted realization, Beomgyu realizes where this emotion stems from.

The priest is careful with you, hand reaching out to slowly place the Eucharist on your awaiting tongue; he’s gentle, as though you were made of nothing but glass, gaze following you even after you’re long gone.

You’re walking back with your hands clasped together and your eyes downcast, undoubtedly lost in prayer again. But even so, you can’t help but sneak a glance at Beomgyu once more, relieved to see his eyes weren’t on you already this time— instead, he’s watching the priest acutely, observing and analyzing his every move— and you feel star-struck by his beauty yet again.

The day outside must have cleared more; at least, that must be the case if there is light shining through the stained glass windows, myriads of colors casting themselves on the floors and the people around you— Beomgyu is not an exception to this, entranced with the sharp reds, purples and blues that cast onto his delicate skin, making his appearance seem more otherworldly than it already was.

His brows furrow. Part of his face is lit up with a faint red from the window, hitting his right eye and the scar above it— suddenly, his eyes are flickering back to meet yours, and you’re jumping slightly in surprise; his eye is practically glowing.

Your gaze becomes downcast again. You try to ignore the feeling of him watching as you kneel down and begin your prayer once more, staring at the altar and at the captivating marble statues, eyes falling onto the candles that hypnotize you by its flickering flame, lost in thought as the taste of wine that lingers on your tongue becomes the only thing you’re still aware of.

Beomgyu makes no attempts to conceal his desperation to leave the moment mass is over. His goodbyes are brief and he manages to pull you along, simply because you’d feel bad if you didn’t accompany him out. You’re almost out the front doors, so close to leaving, only to be stopped the moment you’re stepping outside, not expecting the priest to slip out of the doors behind you, calling out your name and asking you to wait; obedient as always, you’re practically frozen on the steps of the church— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to hide the clear distaste on his face as he hears the priest ask for a word with you; in private.

Without hesitation, you’re scurrying up the steps and meekly asking Beomgyu if he was going to stay— you can’t help but be surprised at the immediate nod of his head in response.

“Lovely seeing you today. Like always,” the priest says, sending you a fond smile that you eagerly return; he’s taking a step close to you, voice lowering slightly as he continues. “This is the first time I’ve seen you attend with someone else.”

“Ah,” you say quietly, evidently flustered by the breach of this subject; you’re turning away from him to glance back at Beomgyu, who sends you a small smile the moment your eyes meet. “I met him this morning— he aided me when I fell, and agreed to join me when I invited him to today’s mass.”

The priest frowns. You’re taken aback by the clear disapproval in his eyes, blinking owlishly as you silently question what’s wrong— the priest is taking another step closer to you, his brows pinched together and his voice cautious as he speaks.

“My child,” he begins carefully, taking in your wide and curious eyes as he warns you, “It is admirable of you to spread God’s word so dutifully. I admire your devotion to both our Lord and this community.”

“However,” he says solemnly, “I advise you to be very careful. You have only just met him after all.”

The two of you glance back at Beomgyu, who leans against the stairway with a blank expression, staring out at the snowy scenery before him as he waits for the two of you to finish; he can feel your stares on him, but he doesn’t bother to look back, already knowing where this conversation must be headed.

“Oh Father,” you say softly, giving him a reassuring smile, “you shouldn’t worry, I know how to handle myself.”

And, Beomgyu has been nothing but kind to you, you think to yourself, though you know better than to rely solely on the limited hours you’ve spent together.

“Of course. Though you can’t blame me for being concerned,” he says, taking yet another step closer to you— the space between you is limited now, and you’re unable to stop the way you retreat subconsciously in response.

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to,” he reaches up to place a hand on your shoulder, heavy and making you stiffen at the sudden contact; it remains there, thumb rubbing soft circles on your coat, “such a dedicated servant of God. It is my duty to protect you, child.”

He is reluctant to let you go. You breathe out a soft laugh and smile, taking another step back and watching as his hand slides down your arm, his touch lingering and grabbing at your hand momentarily; he squeezes it in an attempt to give you reassurance, and you nod.

“I understand,” you say quietly, pulling your hands in close to your chest, clasping them together as you take another step back, “I must leave now, Father.”

His lips press, as though disappointed to see you leave to soon— but then he nods in understanding, wishing you a blessed day and encouraging you to stop by anytime; you nod, bidding him one last goodbye before you’re turning around and descending the stairs— you miss the way his eyes harden and his brows knit together the second they meet Beomgyu’s, lips pressed to a thin line as he watches the two of you for a moment more.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” you say meekly, feeling a smile grow on your face the moment Beomgyu simply shakes his head in reassurance, boldly taking your hand and placing it in the crook of his arm once again; a gesture that has your body warming up as much as his touch warms you, allowing him to pull you close to him as you walk away— he allows you to speak about whatever is on your mind, listening intently as he glances back at the church one final time.

At the top of the stairway, the priest remains, watching. Beomgyu is unfazed at the sight, and instead of returning the harsh glare the older man sends him, his lips curl into a smile— wide and wicked, showing off his perfect teeth and sharp canines that adorn his mouth, confusing the man before him— and his expression switches in the blink of an eye the moment you squeeze at his bicep subconsciously to get his attention as you speak, leaning in to ask what he thought of today’s mass.

“It was lovely,” Beomgyu says smoothly, eyes crinkling into a fond and kind smile. You’re returning the smile without hesitation, feeling as though it’s become second nature to your being now.

“I think I’ll be seeing you around more.”

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

The two of you part ways once you’ve reached the center of town. Beomgyu tells you he has somewhere he needs to be, and you explain that you still have a few errands to do; with the promise to see each other again soon, you’re reluctantly bidding him goodbye.

He asked if you’d be willing to show him around the town a bit more; if you’d like to show him your favorite places to eat and visit— you told him yes in a heartbeat.

With new promising plans with this handsome stranger, you felt lighter on your feet— a giddiness that undoubtedly was written all over your face, laughing shyly at the remarks others would give in regards to your good mood; and though the trek back to your little cottage on the outskirts of town was a long one, you didn’t seem to particularly mind it today.

The rest of your day is quiet; peaceful like always, not a soul stopping by to interrupt your day. You’ve fallen back into routine, and with your sudden encounter with Beomgyu earlier, you’ve begun to realize how mundane your everyday life is— you’re suddenly antsy, waiting anxiously for the day to bleed into the next so you’re able to see him again.

Night falls and you have yet to forget about him. Beomgyu’s soft gaze and kind smile, the way he hovered over you and humored your spontaneous offer to join you— his touch that warmed you through your layers of clothing and left your body hot and flustered.

This sudden change in your train of thought has you snapping back to reality; your eyes are blinking into focus and you’re now hyper-aware of the hot water that runs over your skin, the dishes in your hands that you had absentmindedly been washing— and you’re straightening up to stare out your window, feeling a breeze slip through the small opening and hit your warm face; you definitely need it, you think to yourself, scolding yourself for thinking of such scandalous things about a man you just met.

You think you’ll go to bed early; with the final dish placed on your drying rack, you’re off to your bathroom, washing up before you make your way into the bedroom, slipping into nothing more but a thin nightgown; the moonlight casts a glow on your figure as you change, already feeling sleep weigh your eyes as the soft silk of your gown brushes against your skin.

Your bed feels a lot more comfortable than usual; your body is more tired than you realized. The blankets weigh down on you securely, and any restless thought seems to dissolve in your mind the moment your head is resting against your soft pillows— for the first time in a long, long time, you’re able to achieve a peaceful, immediate slumber.

Poor thing; today’s events must have truly exhausted you. After all, being around a demon for such a long time takes a lot of energy.

Beomgyu watches the soft rise and fall of your chest with fond eyes and a small smile. He thinks that the moonlight casts a truly angelic glow on your face, unaware and peaceful to the dangers around you— not much of a difference from your awake self, the man muses.

The energy you emit is as pure as the light in your eyes; innocent, untainted by the horrors of the world. Unlike the rest of this town and their putrid thoughts, their intentions to rip you apart and force you to stoop as low as them, you’ve remained the same: devoted to your God, devoted to live an honest and peaceful life— your being is nothing short of angelic, and Beomgyu has found himself addicted to it.

He’s weakened— you remind him of the life he used to live, the person he once was before he gave in to the beauty of temptation, ensnared for eternity to the carnal sin that allowed him to reject the teachings of his god. He’s lived this life longer than he can remember, memories of pure beings and a light heart long gone; it’s instead been replaced by an insatiable hunger and instincts that led him to you.

Beomgyu wasn’t supposed to find himself here, he supposed. Damned to nothing but a void of flames that seared and marred his skin, to be given bodies of those who shared the same sin as him— indulging in his cravings, but never truly satiating them, just enough to keep his soul hooked and coming back for more, a constant cycle of addiction and hunger and desire.

But this is — you are — different. Just being near you is enough to get Beomgyu’s heart racing, his body buzzing with a slight nervous energy that begs to just touch you, to take you, to use you. His body is weak, drained from its descent from the heavens and its unexpected escape from his perpetual state of limbo, from his punishment. His bones ache and his skin begs to be with you, his soul guiding the rest of him to find you; just one night with you could keep him strong for eons.

Such a cruel hand life has given you. Because now that Beomgyu has found you, he’s made a silent vow to not let you escape from his hands; you’re the perfect prey, innocent and trusting and charmed by the closest thing to ever be graced by God's presence.

He closes his eyes, and hones in on your energy— to properly entangle you in clutches, Beomgyu must begin to plant the seeds in your mind; seeds of doubt and want, seeds that will allow you to see the world as is and bring you into his awaiting, protecting arms.

After a moment, he finally feels it; the soft beating of your heart, the aura that hums like an enticing melody. Deep breaths bring a slow rise and fall to his chest, allowing it to match the rhythm of your own. A harmony is created between the two, and only then does Beomgyu finally feel it— your mind is inviting him in. He suppresses the triumphant smile that makes his lips twitch.

Declining such an offer would be quite rude, wouldn’t it?

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

You wake with a start.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in and your gown sticks to your skin in an unbearable way, your body exuding so much heat that you’ve found yourself covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your mind is racing, you feel as though your heart is ready to burst out of your chest— what happened, why do you feel like this?

It takes a minute before everything else floods back in. A wave of shame and horror washes over you, searingly hot against your skin as you find yourself throwing the covers of your bed off your body, reaching over at your nightstand instinctively and kneeling at your bedside; your hands shake slightly as you try to ground yourself with the feeling of the rosary beads against your palms.

Prayers leave your lips like a waterfall; attempting to forget the dream— the nightmare— that your mind conjured, surely nothing but a test of faith and temptation to make you stray from the path you painstakingly set up for yourself.

The beads of the rosary dig deeper into your palms. Your hands press tighter together, your face screwed into a frown of concentration, attempting to rid yourself of the way your mind seems to want to do nothing but wander. Wander to the foreign feeling of a hand gliding against your skin, a smooth path along your bare back and chest, lips that caressed your neck and whispered nothing but praises and promises of divinity and eternal life.

A shudder rips through your body like an earthquake. You must rid yourself of these thoughts.

Your will is strong, but the temptation is stronger; it sings memories and images from your nightmare, appearing at the most inconvenient moments and making your every movement falter— when you change, vibrant images and raw skin replacing the sight of your body in the mirror with one of pure lust and sin, when you prepare to go out, tucking the rosary safely underneath your layers of clothes, and as you spot Beomgyu in the distance, waving at you with a kind smile on his face; shame bubbles hotly beneath your skin, and you hope that the man who asks you to lead the way with bright eyes simply blames the flustered look of your face on the cold, the pure snow around you.

“You must be cold,” Beomgyu muses softly, turning to you and suddenly cupping your face; wide eyes meet his as you merely remain still, unsure of what to do as the feeling of his hot hands cupping your flushed skin only make it burn hotter, embarrassment eating you up as his brows twitch at the feeling; he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion as he inspects you slowly. “Or… perhaps not? Your face is burning.”

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to spit out, taking a step away from him and averting his gaze entirely, hands pressed firmly against your pounding heart, “I’m sorry if I seem to be acting strange, I’m not sure what has gotten into me.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, brows knitted together with worry— oh, you must seem to have lost it, you think to yourself, biting your lip and attempting to brush off your skittish behavior with a soft laugh, Beomgyu must find you strange now.

And whilst Beomgyu continues to feign concern for you, brushing off all your apologies and maintaining a curious facade, his body practically buzzes with excitement; poor, innocent thing, one simple dream was enough to bring you right to where he wanted you— one dream was enough to fluster and break down the solid fortitude you once set up for yourself, the man before you catching you so off guard that you never had a moment to question the sudden turn of events; he had you right where he wanted you, smiling to himself at the way you could barely maintain eye-contact before you were flustering and looking away.

You told yourself it would pass with time. But hours fly by with Beomgyu and nothing changes— if anything, everything simply got much, much worse— the man seemed to have found solace within you, getting comfortable and finding confidence in being subtly affectionate with you; holding your hand and pulling you along to show you something, brushing the corner of your mouth and teasing you for being such a messy eater, and holding a firm hand at the small of your back while you walked— you couldn’t pretend to be unaware of everyone’s stares even if you tried.

“Such a small town, isn’t it?” Beomgyu muses to you, taking in the scenery, the people that wander the streets; he finds his eyes meeting with every person they land on, holding back a sneer at the way their stares linger with fascination, landing on you with a myriad of emotions: envy, lust, disdain, he sees it all. “I feel like there’s someone watching us at all times.”

“Oh, I suppose,” you say sheepishly, as though you were the one to blame for his discomfort, “I apologize, I had no idea it would be this busy today— but it’s natural to be curious, I know they mean well.”

Beomgyu nods thoughtfully at your claim; surely, there’s only so much innocence you can harbor before it begins to become naivety— do you really believe such lies? But of course, you’re filled with nothing but surprises, the clear look in your eyes telling him that your words are more for you to believe than him.

When the sun is beginning to set and the street lamps are beginning to get lit up, Beomgyu sees your mood flip like a switch; you’re getting antsy, you must want to leave soon. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what might be going on in your mind at the moment.

“You must be tired,” Beomgyu says, slowing to a stop before turning to face you; you led him to one of your favorite parks, taking him into the maze of a garden and along your favorite trail, the light and excitement in your face enough to make the scenery around him seem dull.

You look like a deer caught in headlights at his words; was it so obvious? You stammer and try to sugarcoat how you feel unsure of how to tell him that you want to leave now, not because you’re tired of his presence, but because you feel as though you’re not in your right mind at the moment.

Oh, how could you possibly tell him that the reason you must leave soon is because you feel a nauseating urge to repent? That, as soon as you say your final goodbyes, smiling shyly and turning around to walk away from him with a haste, you’re going to make your way straight to the church? The night is cold but your body is far from it, face burning with shame as you walk into your sanctuary with a haste, unsure of how to deal with the fact that you’re thinking very impure thoughts over a man you’ve just met; the very reminder is enough to make your stomach lurch once more.

The warmth of the building doesn’t feel as welcoming anymore; it only makes your body hotter, breaking out with a light sweat as you slowly approach the basin of holy water, dipping your fingers in and slowly crossing yourself— you take a deep breath, ignoring the flames of shame that eat at you as you walk inside.

The confessional is just by the entrance, at the very end of the left wall and tucked in safely from any private eyes. The velvet curtain beckons you, and as you rush over in a haste, you can’t bring yourself to catch eyes with the priest that stands by the altar, having caught sight of you immediately— there was no one else that would come here so late at night but you.

You sit at the very edge of your seat, hunched over and staring at your lap as you wait. You can feel the heat of the single lightbulb above you on your back, searing into your nape as you pick at your nails anxiously. It feels like time has frozen within this small booth you’ve cooped yourself in, the heat of it all only making you more restless as you wait, head ducked down in shame, much too afraid to look into the screen that separates you from the only other person that will ever know about the dark thoughts that plague you.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching; you peek up instinctively, just in time to watch the velvet curtain on the other side get pushed open— your head goes back down hurriedly.

It’s not too often you come into the confessional, but you still find yourself doing the routine like you were born to do so. Your hand crosses yourself dutifully, licking nervously at your dry lips that part to speak— your voice feels timid and broken, the words you speak heavy on your tongue.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

It’s been about four weeks since you last confessed, you tell him, wringing your hands together as you attempt to find the words to say, feeling as though a heavy lump in your throat prevents you from expressing the truth; it’s too much, you find yourself thinking, the burden and shame of it all bringing a heat to your cheeks, reluctant to voice your sins aloud. Moments pass and you have said nothing, but the priest on the other side remains patient— the silence and the heat of his stare through the screen only makes you more aware of the guilt that sits in your stomach.

“Father, I don’t know what to do,” you sob softly, the dam finally breaking in one, swift motion; words spill from your lips with abandon, unable to keep track of what to say as you scoot close to the screen, barely on your seat as you lean your forehead against the cool wood.

“I have restrained myself all my life, I’ve avoided the temptation that is thrown my way, the dangers presented to me— I’ve remained strong— yet…” you swallow thickly, a shuddered sigh leaving your lips as your hands brace themselves against the screen; your palms press against the sturdy structure, a false sense of security as you hesitate to say the words you’re about to admit, “yet— these past few days I’ve been plagued with nothing but thoughts of lust. Of blasphemy.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Memories seem to bubble up from the confession, detailed and vivid, playing against your eyes that screw shut as though in pain.

It’s all wrong. So, so so wrong, the warm feelings that stir within unfamiliar as you remember all the thoughts that fill your mind throughout the day.

“It’s unlike me— I’ve never found myself to think anything so crude, so immoral,” you say, hanging your head with shame, “Yet I find that I cannot stop. Father, I’ve prayed and I’ve remained abstinent, but the thought that I fear the most is the one… that makes me doubt whether I’m on the right path.”

On the other side of the screen, you’re faintly able to make out his figure shifting. Your hesitation is evident as you finally admit something you hadn’t been able to accept yourself.

“Father, I’m afraid that I’ll give in.”

More silence follows. You’re sure that the priest must be in deep thought on the other side, but the silence only seems to make you more anxious; how low you’ve come, a voice within you chides, wanting to throw away your purity for a man you’ve just only just met. How vile.

The voice is cold and blunt and unlike your own— the sudden thought startles you, your spine straightening as you look around you, a shiver going throughout your body. Inevitably, you look through the screen once more. On the other side, you’re able to see the faint image of the priest, his head hanging and lost in thought.

You feel as though you’re in a daze for the rest of your time there; you can only nod softly with every piece of advice he offers you, telling you to remain strong and trust that your faith in God will guide you to the right path— he tells you to pray, to devote yourself to the church in any way you can, your penance weighing your heart as you agree to it all.

“My child, be aware that this is another test of your faith. You mustn’t give in,” he finally says, stopping you in your motion to leave, “You are a pure flower, bound to attract others who do not have your best interest in mind.”

Hesitantly, you nod, unsure if you’re deserving of this praise he sings to you.

“If you ever find yourself in doubt, know that you can always come to me.”

There’s an odd feeling that blooms within you at his words; you know you should feel comforted, honored to have someone to support you in your time of need, but instead you can only muster a wry smile, whispering a soft of course before you’re exiting the booth in a haste.

Glancing behind you, you’re reassured to see that the priest has yet to come out; you don’t think you could face him any time soon, knowing that despite the anonymity of the booth, your identity is quite obvious.

No one else resides in the church as you make your way down the nave and down to your usual spot. Your footsteps feel heavy on the rug as you stand before the altar, head tilted up to be able to take it all in properly; the marble statues that look as though they might come to life, the angels that bow down and the intricate details that go to frame the cross in the middle— you stare up at the altar for what feels like hours, the guilt in your heart weighing you as you take a deep bow and go to sit.

Your mind is calm, but your heart is restless; you pray for forgiveness and plead to not be led astray, yet something within you itches to do just that— a tug at your heart, wondering what it would be like to indulge yourself for once— you’ve seen the other members of your church, the way they comply and worship yet change in the blink of an eye once they’re out of this sanctuary— so, would it really be that bad? You’ve seen their actions, know their hearts; they treat you so kindly, worship your lord so devoutly— so, is it really unjust for you to do the same?

Your nails dig deep into your skin, a way to snap yourself out of that train of thought, scolding yourself for thinking this way of others around you— for attempting to reason with the whispers of temptation that attempt to lure you.

How long you spend lost in thought is unknown to you— minutes, maybe hours, your knees sore and your clasped hands clammy as you rest your forehead against them, eyes screwed shut and lost in prayer; it was a meditation of sorts, finally able to cast out straying tangents and focus on one thing. Your breathing is slow, tired, your body slowly giving in to the exhaustion, muscles weighing you down as you continue to pray— it isn’t until you’ve found yourself about to doze off that you realize you must leave.

When you stand, you’re shaken awake instantly. You could’ve sworn you’d be the only one left in the building by now, yet the priest still lingers by the altar, tending to the candles and shifting about— the smile you send when he glances behind curiously and meets your eyes must seem as ingenuine as it feels, because you see his expression fall instantly.

It’s important to rest. You must be seeing things, you think, tightening your coat around you before you’re stepping out of your pew and turning to leave— your steps are unconsciously haste, your arms that wrap around yourself unnaturally tight, yet you still flinch the moment your name is being called— softly, but still echoing throughout the building.

You find yourself feeling reluctant as you turn. Your words are timid as you address him.

“Yes Father?”

Upon your surprise, he is not too far from you— as though he had been mere steps behind, wanting to close the gap between you two as he continues to move forward; he sends you a soft smile, head tilting in curiosity and brows furrowing in worry as he speaks.

“My dear, are you leaving? At this hour?” he asks, watching you nod meekly, “But it is so dangerous; it is far too cold and dark for someone like you to be out alone.”

Sheepishly, you smile, hands wringing themselves without you realizing.

“It’s quite alright, Father. I’m stronger than you think.”

The soft laugh he lets out is meant to be lighthearted, though you can’t help but think it’s one of disbelief instead.

“I’m sure, but you must understand my concern; to let you leave alone like this would be wrong of me.” His smile is fond as he steps closer to you, gesturing behind him as he proposes, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? It’d be much safer.”

“Oh, thank you Father, but I think it’d be better for me to go to my home instead,” you say softly, pressing your hands firmly against your beating heart, “I have a busy day tomorrow, and I don’t think it’d be wise to rest on the pews.”

He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement; your brows knit together in slight confusion, laughing along hesitantly nonetheless.

“Of course my dear,” he starts, your smile widening in hopes that he’s giving up this small fight, “but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“I meant that you should rest here tonight,” he repeats again, voice softening as he continues, “with me.”

Your eyes widen in shock— it’s painted all over your face as well, unsure of what to make of his sudden offer as you resort to letting out an incredulous laugh instead.

“Oh Father, I couldn’t possibly—” you gulp, softening your tone at the sight of his confused face, “It– it wouldn’t be right. I mustn’t disturb you.”

“But you wouldn’t be disturbing at all,” he insists, taking a step toward you, talking animatedly with his hands as he does, “I’m inviting you, afterall, I’d love the company— it does get lonely sometimes, I must admit.”

You attempt to maintain a look of understanding, nodding along to his every word— but you remain firm in your stance regardless as you respond.

“I understand, and I truly do appreciate the offer,” you try again, beginning to walk back despite the slow souring of his face, “but, even so, I really must leave—”

“Why?” he suddenly interrupts, his voice sharp and his expression cold, “why are you so insistent on leaving?”

“I’m tired, is all—”

“Lies.” he shuts you down again. “All of it. For if you were true to your word, you’d have no issue accepting my offer to accommodate you.”

Shaking your head, you shrink within yourself, shoulders caving in as he begins following your steps— you attempt to give him reason, to be polite and kind, yet he hears none of it.

“You come to plead for forgiveness yet are so quick to run back to your old ways,” he says, his every step like a resounding boom in your mind— you deny him adamantly again, but all you get in response is a cold look.

It seems as though you’ve nowhere to go— the doors had been shut due to the cold and your back presses against it, but before you can reach for the handle and open your only exit, you find yourself trapped— the priest’s hand is heavy as it slams on the handle, the loud sound causing you to jump and yelp in surprise.

“Can’t you see? I only want what’s best for you,” you feel as though you might merge with the wood of the door as you press yourself to it, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to escape the cruel wrath of the priest that towers above you, spitting words of discipline, “It’s dangerous for you out there. You haven’t the slightest idea what would happen to you if you were found like this— alone, helpless, defenseless.”

“I have gone out of my way to provide you shelter, yet you refuse; I know what it is you’re truly adamant to get back to,” he grits, as though it pained him to say— his eyes narrow, watching as you merely tremble and refuse to look at him, finding himself tired of you not meeting his eye— the cry you let out is insignificant as he takes hold of your shoulders, shaking you and crouching down to meet your face.

“And I will not have you whoring yourself out to another man! ” Your eyes are screwed shut now, tears threatening to flow down as you reach for the hands on your shoulders, attempting to pry them off— he pays no mind to your attempts, continuing to scream in your face until you find that you can withstand no more.

“Please! Let me go!”

Your chest heaves. Your wide eyes are brimming with tears and your legs are shaking terribly, just like your hands that have just shoved the priest off you; he seems just as shocked as you are, mouth parted in surprise before he finally goes to regain his composure.

“I-I’m so sorry Father, I–” your voice breaks and you feel the hot streams of tears on your cheeks, a trembling hand reaching behind you in search of the handle— when you find it, you immediately pull it open.

“I–I— I must go, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I’m so—”

“You do not deserve to be deflowered and tainted by the evils of this world,” the priest says, his voice hoarse and stopping you effortlessly in your tracks; he doesn’t bother looking at you anymore, staring at your feet with a pinched expression of frustration instead. “But if that is what your blasphemous heart truly desires, then so be it.”

When his head raises and his eyes meet yours, you’re stunned— his eyes shine, a forlorn look settled within them.

“You were so perfect, my child,” he says softly, frowning at the fear in your eyes, the heavy heaving of your chest, “you were divine.”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

Brows furrowing together, you deny him one last time— this time, he simply watches as you slip out the door, fleeing with sharp steps and sobbing quietly into your hands, cheeks stinging from the cold.

The path before you is dim— the trek to your home is long. Without realizing, you think of the priest’s warnings, tears an endless stream as you part your lips in a soft whisper.

“Oh Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection…”

Through the long journey back to your way home, you sob and you pray. By the top steps of the church, hidden by the columns and tucked safely into the darkness, Beomgyu watches. He watches until your figure is nothing but a small speck against the vast landscape of the town, your trembling body and the echoes of your soft sobs ingrained into his mind.

Slowly, he turns back to look at the doors, into the small sliver of warm light provided by your failure to close the door properly.

His eyes catch movement; a grin grows on his face.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

Tonight, it seems as though your heart and your mind have finally conceded. Tonight, you dream deeply.

In your dreams, it is all a haze; you’ve found yourself within the holy sanctuary once more, slowly making your way down the nave, past the crowded pews of hooded figures with their heads ducked down, hands folded dutifully in front of you and your eyes pinned straight ahead. The altar beckons you, the thickened, incensed air bringing a calm through your system as you walk. You walk and you walk, eyes pinned on the cross that looms over you.

The path seems to warp— the nave seems never-ending, the carpet slowly becoming worn and darkened with every step you take— your heart beats a little faster now, nails digging into your skin with a subconscious tension; yet you continue to walk, whether you want to or not.

Everything feels so heavy. You feel lethargic and dizzy, feeling as though submerged underwater, limbs moving oh so slowly; the room around you has begun to darken, unable to halt your trek down to the altar no matter how much you try— everything has begun to fade to black, the pews of people turning to dust, the carpet beneath you disappearing beneath your feet— the only thing that remains steady is the altar in front of you and the steps you take.

You can’t breathe— have you been breathing at all? It’s a fleeting thought that crosses your mind, the burning of your lungs and the pressure on your chest sudden and alarming— the smell of incense no longer enters your system, but you can still feel the air thicken around you; somehow, your eyes remain wide open through it all, stuck onto the mesmerizing, pure altar that remains on its fixed point in the distance.

It feels as though hours have passed, and you’ve yet to make any progress. Your body remains still as the darkness around you. Just when you’ve begun to wonder if there will ever be any end in sight, something changes.

It’s subtle, at first— you think it might just be a trick of the mind. The very edges of the altar have started to fade into the darkness, the sharp edges of the pure, white marble statues turning fuzzy— the wings of the angels, the top of the cross, the podium that holds it all up— it’s fading into the abyss, becoming one with the eternal nothingness around you— and as much as you feel yourself panic, wanting to speed your pace, break into a run in a weak attempt to stop it— you can’t. The sound of your steps is like a metronome in your ears, falling against the void and keeping you still. All you can do is watch.

Your eyes remain wide open throughout it all. Your dress sways with every step you take, your body not realizing that soon enough, you’ll be walking towards nothing. The faces of the angel’s are now fading into obscurity, the darkness prickling at Jesus’ nailed hands and thorned crown; your heart hammers against your chest, forced to watch as it pools around Mary’s feet.

The few remnants of the holy altar are slowly being swallowed by this strange darkness; sorrow fills your weak being, wondering why it is that your body continues to walk forward— there is nothing left to go to, the last of Mary’s bowed body getting lost into the abyss— and as your eyes scan her smooth, marble complexion, you catch on a single crimson tear, welling up at the inner corner of her eye, able to watch it grow as though you were standing inches before it— it grows and grows, until it can no longer stay still. The path it runs down the smoothness of her cheeks is striking, a sharp trail left behind as it drips off into nothing.

The last of her fades away.

There is nothing but darkness ahead of you; even so, you continue forward. Your mind has emptied, body becoming lax as the steps you take become effortless, light, like walking on air. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep, the haze in your brain returning twice as strong.

You can feel yourself walking, but you cannot see anything; not even yourself. A voice within wonders if you might be left to walk forever, towards an end goal that will never show itself to you.

Come to me.

Despite your shock, you do not halt. The voice is soft and sweet, like dripping honey— it’s only three words, but even so, you find yourself entranced, following the command even if you’re unsure whether you’re going the right direction.

Closer, come.

The voice beckons you so effortlessly, like a leash that wraps around your figure, pulling you forward, following your instinct to continue to walk, to explore what it is that calls to you so sweetly.

Unlike the altar that has now been lost on your once worried mind, something has begun to fade into view. It is soft and hazy, with a slight glow that hurts your eyes— unable to make out what it is you’re now making your way towards, eyes dilating and adjusting slowly.

A bright, ruffled shirt, a corset that’s tied tightly, long flowing sleeves covering the hands that rest leisurely at their sides; your gaze is quick to sweep up their appearance, a quick observation before you move onto what tugs at your curiosity the most— only to find that their face remains obscured by the darkness, a slight blur of what could be registering in your mind— you think you see soft, plump lips that curl into a reassuring smile, but it might be wishful thinking, if anything at all.

Slowly, they raise a hand— calling you closer, the path beneath you finally beginning to shrink with each step you take— their fingertips outstretched toward you, as though expecting you to do the same. And even when you fail to mirror their actions, they refuse to falter, accepting you as you are.

It is only when you stand before them that your body finally stops. Your face expressionless as you observe the person in front of you carefully, oddly hesitant to accept their offer. You stand for a moment, left in a standstill as the figure lets out a soft, echoing laugh.

Do not be afraid, they tell you, their words wrapping around you warmly, take my hand.

You blink. Your body suddenly feels like your own, the grounding heaviness of your limbs making you realize that it is now you who controls what you do next; glancing down at yourself curiously, you look back up at the figure, where they remain waiting expectantly.

You take a step closer. Their smile widens slightly.

Good, they say, soft and deep like a purr, closer.

Slowly, you bring a hand up, finding a slight hesitation to make contact with this outstretched hand— and, as though hearing your doubts, the figure chuckles, teasing and lighthearted, as though already aware of what you will choose in the end.

When your skin touches theirs, you feel nothing. It is like air under your palm.

Your grip tightens, unsure if you’ve taken their hand at all; before you can so much as take a breath, their hold shifts, hand sliding forward and deft fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist, fingertips digging into the skin— you’re pulled in without warning, stumbling forward and crashing into their strong chest.

Looking up, you find that you cannot bring yourself to feel afraid— their smile is radiant as they look down at you, the faint outline of their head much too fuzzy for you to understand— the air cracks as two pure wings stretch out, curling around the two of you and moving to cage you in shortly after— feathers fly around the air from the aggressive movement, fluttering around before they rot black, lighting at the quill and turning to ashes, the crackling sounds filling your ears as you look around you in confusion, only to get the sight obscured by the darkening wings that trap you.

Eyes on me, the voice says, echoing in your mind, following their command immediately. The soft smile that remained on their lips can no longer be contained, growing into a grin that shows off brilliant canines that shine down at you. I will give you everything you seek.

Feeling the twinge of hope in your heart, the figure pulls you closer still, allowing your body to press against theirs.

Seek me, they whisper lowly, a hand beginning to snake around your waist, dancing fingertips pressing into the small of your back— leaning down, they whisper softly into your ear.

Find me in our sanctuary, you can hear their grin through their words, and I will give you all you yearn for.

Their lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

Quickly.

Before you can react, they dissolve to nothing.

You’re left alone in the abyss once more.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you startle awake, you find that it is still nighttime; sitting straight up in your bed, you look out the window— snow falls peacefully, the quietness of the scenery doing nothing to calm your beating heart.

The dream.

Words and messages echo throughout your mind, unsure of what to make of it all. Your chest heaves slightly with confusion, eyes adjusting to the darkness as you glance over at your bedside table— the statue of the cross greets you like always, the soft voice from your dream resurfacing in your tired brain.

Your body is moving on its own accord; your coat, your shoes, all of it is being thrown on before your dazed mind can even process it, still weighed with sleep as you stumble around in the darkness. Only one thought seems to keep you moving, like a restless pull that leads you out your front door.

Swinging it open, you’re met with the freezing winter breeze; the trees sway and creak, snowflakes falling in your direction and landing against the apples of your cheeks— shaking you awake slightly, a quiet voice within you wondering what it is you’re doing, telling you that you should go back inside and rest— but even through this small window of reason you receive, the warmth that leaks from behind your home attempting to wrap around you and pull you back in, the need to seek closure haunts you; your boots crunch beneath the freshly fallen snow, sealing your fate as you haphazardly close the door behind you.

It all feels like a dream still— and you wonder if it is, blinking away the snow that gets in your eyes, your walk through the emptied path that leads back to the center of town turning haste; you feel as though it is something else that is pushing you forward, allowing you to head through this dark and barren path without so much as a light to guide the way, the sound of the wind whistling through your ears and the snow crunching beneath your feet following along.

There must be a reason, your weary mind thinks, a passing thought through the blankness of your mind, passing through the desolate, closed shops, not a single street lantern lit to give you a sense of security, there is something calling you back.

In your right state of mind, you never would have found yourself doing this; after what happened mere hours ago, you wouldn’t have been able to walk in this general direction without feeling guilt and fear weighing you down— in your fully conscious state of mind, you would have stopped to contemplate your actions the moment you began to lace up your shoes— but in this moment, as you slow to a stop and turn to face the stone steps that lead to the first faint, flickering light you’ve seen tonight, you’re none of that— instead, you allow yourself to give in to this strange, delirious state of being you’ve found yourself in.

The tall steps of the church have blurred together. Your head remains bowed, eyes glued to your feet as you ascend, hands folded neatly in front of you as snow falls around you, on your clothes and in your hair.

When you arrive at the top, a hand reaching out for the entrance, you hesitate— your eyes widen, and as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over you, you take in the door that has been left ajar, the lights that are no longer on inside; your hand remains outstretched for a moment, and for the first time tonight, a single question runs through your head.

Why are you here?

Standing straight, you turn to look over your shoulder, out at the town behind you— all is still, eerily so, like you’re the only person there. Even in the distance, in the neighborhoods, you do not find a single light on. A chill runs through your body, suddenly aware that you’re standing outside in the snowfall with nothing but your nightgown and a winter coat on; with blazing cheeks, you rush to slip inside the sanctuary in hopes of getting your confused mind back in order.

The door falls shut behind you, the soft click rendering you in complete darkness; not even the magnificent, stained glass windows are able to provide you with a proper source of light, nervously looking around and taking in the church in this desolate, foreign state.

You’ve heard that old habits die hard— without realizing, you’ve made your way to the basin of holy water, shaking fingers reaching in to be dipped so you can cross yourself— only, you continue to reach in, going in further until your fingertips are touching the cool porcelain of the bowl; head snapping over the sensation, you frown in confusion at the sight of the empty basin— walking over to the one placed adjacently, you squint, reaching in unsurely, only to be met with the same cold feeling.

Strange.

Retracting your hand, you cradle it close to your chest, a frown tugging at your features as you try to brush off the confusion; looking forward once more, you’re left face to face with the marble altar that sits at the end of the nave, beckoning you to come closer.

It must’ve been a sign of God. That is the only explanation that would justify the strange circumstances of it all, making you way down the familiar carpet, the soft sound of your steps enough to rival the beating of your heart in your ears.

Stepping off the carpet, you go to bow in respect— only to hear a strange sound beneath your feet, like a splashing of sorts— glancing down in confusion, your eyes narrow, attempting to decipher what it is you’ve stepped in; a pool of water maybe, looking above you to see if there might be a leak in the ceiling— a few seconds go by, and when you neither feel nor see anything fall, your frown deepens.

“You came.”

Your heart spikes and your gaze drops to the source of the sound, unable to do anything but gasp from the startle— through the darkness, standing behind the altar, a figure speaks to you. The sight is reminiscent and makes your legs shake, a mixture of fear and awe filling your body as you find yourself unable to speak.

“I wondered what it would take for you to finally give in,” the voice, soft and melodic, murmurs; even through the darkness, you can feel their gaze pinned onto you intently. “Such a shame it had to go this far.”

Before you can react, a thunder-like sound fills the empty walls of the church, cracking loudly and causing you to flinch, ducking down and covering yourself instinctively— through your eyelids that remain screwed shut, you see light filling the room around you, the flickering warmth of the candles glowing against your lids, beckoning you to look— after a moment, you give in.

Your hands tremble as you put them down, straightening up and taking a look around you: the candles have been lit up, from the chandeliers and lanterns above you to the small, worn candles at the sides of the altar— your eyes squint, trying to adjust, rubbing the sleep out of them and blinking slowly as you finally take in the figure that awaited your arrival.

A familiar face smiles down at you sweetly.

A loose, white shirt, a corset that ties tightly around the waist, flowing sleeves that pool around his delicate hands— your shaking pupils take it all in, lips parting to speak, only to close once more when you’ve found that nothing can come out. His hair is mused and curls at the nape of his neck, long strands falling into his kind eyes that watch you carefully.

Behind him, two vast white wings stretch out, the grand sight making your eyes widen in wonder.

Before you can control yourself, your knees buckle in shock.

Beomgyu laughs at you, the sound tender to your ears; placing his hands on the table of the altar, he leans forward, looking down at you and tilting his head in curiosity.

“What’s wrong, my lamb?”

All you can do is stare, left speechless and shaken as you remain silent— he laughs again, eyes crinkling in amusement, bright smile on display and adding to his otherworldly appearance.

“Do not be afraid,” he says, cradling his face with his palm, cooing softly at the way you still remain paralyzed with shock, “I only want what’s best for you, little lamb.”

You blink; shifting, you’ve found your clothes have become soaked at the knees, realizing belatedly that you must’ve fallen into the puddle from earlier— glancing down, you wince, only to freeze at what you see.

A striking crimson soils your clothes. It drags into a path that leads off into one of the rooms on the side, your heart sinking and a cold fear striking down your spine.

The scream that rips though you echoes and burns your throat.

Beomgyu frowns. He’s not surprised, nor is he confused; he simply continues to watch you, beginning to round the altar table the moment you begin to crawl back from where you kneel, your legs refusing to cooperate as hot tears brim your eyes.

“Oh no,” he tsks softly, wings folding inward so he can make his way down the nave, brows knitting together as he watches you, the intensity of his gaze keeping your eyes pinned on his as you cry in confusion, attempting to stand shakily, only to fail— he pouts, stepping in the puddle that startled you, watching as you flinch at the sight of the brilliant droplets that splash out and cling to his once pristine, white boots. “Why do you run?”

“That— the-the blood—” you sob, hysterical, unable to get your words out through stuttered breaths, “What—”

“Shh,” he hushes you hastily, closing the distance between the two of you and stepping on your delicate nightgown, forcing you to be still as he towers over you— he leans down, hair framing his face beautifully, mischievous eyes twinkling as his face hovers inches before yours— his wings cage around the two of you, a sight to see as you merely stare up at him in utter consternation, “don’t bother with him.”

A chill runs down your spine, electrifying and forcing you to sit ram-rod straight— through the small cracks beneath his wings, you take in the streaks that have dried against the tiles, the implication of his words causing a feeling of dread to pool within you, feeling as though you might vomit with the next words you speak.

“Who…” you breathe out, shaky and helpless as you stare up at Beomgyu; he had already been watching you, apathetic expression bringing sheer horror to your system, finally noticing small details you had been so eager to gloss over in your earlier haste— the tainted sleeves of his shirt, the messiness of his clothes, his empty, dark eyes— and your face screws into an expression of sorrow, your nails digging into the soiled carpet beneath you.

“What have you done?”

Beomgyu doesn’t react to your question. He remains still, eerily so, before he finally stands up straight, wings spreading proudly behind him; he stares down at you, hands held behind his back and voice flat as he speaks.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.”

Beomgyu thinks this might be his favorite part; he allows himself to watch as you force yourself to your feet, eyes blown out with horror as you stumble back, afraid he might come after you— when you see he has yet to move, you turn and run, the sight familiar as a grin grows on his face; he allows you to slam against the doors, watches confusion flood your actions as you attempt to force the door open, only beginning to take steps to go after you once you’ve begun to pound on the door hastily, hoarse voice screaming and crying for help, hoping for someone to hear your pleas and rescue you.

“You know, there’s no one that would be out on a night like this,” Beomgyu calls out, his voice booming effortlessly over your painful attempts to seek rescue; his steps are slow and cruel, and you look over your shoulder, tensing at the sight of him nearing you, refusing to give up as you try slamming your body against the wood, only to no avail. “No one stupid enough, that is.”

Your body is well beyond bruised by now, pausing your attempts to break down the door in a desperate hope to check the handle once more; you’re rattling it roughly, crying out when you’re met with resistance. Defeated, your forehead slams against the wood, allowing your sobs to wrack through your body, fingers tightening around the handle hopelessly.

“Now now, don’t be like this,” Beomgyu’s soft voice coos into your ear, much closer than you anticipated him to be; you flinch, feeling his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his chest pressing firmly against your back— his arms wrap around your waist slowly, bringing you in and forcing you to remain pressed against him, “is this not what you have been seeking all along?”

Effortlessly, he pulls you away from the door. Maybe it’s the will to fight that ebbs out of your being, or maybe it’s his superhuman strength, pulling you off and forcing the two of you to walk backwards, your hands falling limply at your sides and your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, glossy eyes barely processing the words he speaks next.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, the searing touch of his hands searing through your clothes, burning your skin, “your heart has been searching for me, you know.”

Allowing him to walk you backwards, you whimper at his words— a sharp reminder of what it was that kept bringing you back here, unwavering guilt sinking your stomach at the faint fire that flickers within.

“No. Please,” you breath out, hushed and hurried as you shake your head, “Please, I beg of you, have mercy—”

Beneath you, you hear the familiar splash of liquid; you yelp in panic, jumping against Beomgyu’s body and trying to look down on instinct— you’re stopped before you can successfully do so, his heated palm pressing against your eyes, forcing you to be left in the dark.

“Don’t.” he says softly, his arm tightening around you, feeling tears pool beneath his skin, “you’re alright, I’m here with you.”

“Such a poor thing. Life has treated you quite unfairly, hasn’t it?” Beomgyu speaks aloud, feeling you hesitate and stumble as he leads you up towards the elevated altar, listening to your jagged breaths with a slightly pitied look. “Perfect and pure all your life, a devoted follower of god.”

“Don’t worry,” Beomgyu says, hand coming off your eyes for just a moment— not that you even noticed, your eyes had been screwed shut all along— only to wrap a cloth around your head instead, deft hands making a careful knot at the back of your head; sliding your clothing to the side, Beomgyu ignores the way you jolt when his soft lips press a kiss to your shoulder. His breath tickles as it fans on your skin.

“You’ve done well, my lamb.”

Beomgyu knows that you will never be able to grasp what is happening; especially not in this stunned state you’re in, the cloth around your eyes already soaked through with silent tears, hands limp at your sides as he takes in your face curiously, noticing your lips that move with silent words.

Even now, you pray.

My Lord and my God, your lips read, whispers of the faint words slipping from you, in my acceptance of the type of death you plan for me, I join your sufferings on the Cross.

Beomgyu watches you hesitate. Your bottom lip wobbles and your throat swallows thickly.

All I ask is that you stand beside me and never leave me.

Even through the veil that has been put over your eyes, a stray tear manages to slip through.

Beomgyu should feel bad for laughing, he supposes— but he can’t help it, taking in the melodramatic sight with thorough amusement, watching you flinch and press your lips together tightly. He shakes his head softly, finding himself becoming fond of your antics as he takes a hold of your hand, ignoring the way you startle so easily as he guides you to where he wants you instead.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, leading you to press back against the altar table, stiffening at the unexpected feeling, “I fear you may have misunderstood me entirely. See, I don’t want to kill you, my lamb.”

Your brows furrow; he’s confused you, he can tell.

“There’s something your pretty little heart has been curious about, isn’t there?” he asks, a grin stretching across his face as you shiver, already aware of what he may be hinting at— but even so, you try to remain clueless, even if you’re quite terrible at it. “Something… you want.”

“There is nothing,” you reply, quickly, albeit shakily, “please, I just— just spare me—”

“Now, there’s no need to lie.” Beomgyu coos, placing his hands on your waist, hoisting you up on the altar table in one swift motion; you gasp, hands reaching blindly for something to stable yourself on, one landing on Beomgyu’s shoulder and the other on the marble beneath you— the hand on his body quickly slips off, and Beomgyu finds himself craving for more.

“You’ve been denying yourself for so long,” Beomgyu murmurs, his voice a hypnotizing lull that causes you to gulp. His fingertips dance across your waist, trailblazing a fire that refuses to die down, mixing with the fear that pounds your heart against your chest. “You must feel so, so trapped.”

“There’s no need to pretend here,” he smiles, reaching up to caress your cheek, watching you gulp, fists clenched tightly in your lap, “I’m aware of everything. It’s only human nature, after all.”

Fervently, you shake your head. Your consistent denial is almost impressive to Beomgyu, the facade of confidence you try to exude with your voice both evident and pity-inducing.

“I refuse to give in to the temptations of sin,” you say, the words like a recited script at this point; Beomgyu’s lip curls in distaste.

“It is not sin,” he whispers softly, hands beginning to wander down from your sides to your hips, grasping softly at the skin before moving down, to the tops of your thighs and over your hands that remain clenched tightly, “it is merely the human experience.”

His hands feel hot over your own; you can feel him press against your body from where you sit, undoubtedly looming over you and caging you in as he speaks. His actions are absentminded as he caresses your hand, stroking the skin soothingly as he continues to invade your senses, whispering things that only the deepest, darkest parts of your heart have considered.

“You’ve worked so hard to live a pious, pure life,” Beomgyu says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you frown, finally beginning to listen to the words he feeds you, “even at the face of danger, you remained loyal— even now, you continue to refuse me.”

“But, don’t you see? The lord has brought you here for a reason.” His eyes shine the moment you shift restlessly under his grip, pressing himself tighter against you, “your dreams, your thoughts, they have led you here for a purpose only you can serve.”

You try to refute him yet again; your lips open, but you hesitate, unsure of what to say. You remain quiet instead.

“Will you deny the fate god has bestowed you?”

A soft pout forms on your face; your heart is racing, and your mind must be too, because you don’t bother to react when Beomgyu’s hand leaves your own, trailing down your thighs and prodding your legs open so he can stand between them— too deep in thought to realize that he’s lifting your nightgown up, bunching it at your knees tentatively.

Beomgyu watches you carefully, taking in your silence and smiling triumphantly as he speaks, “Here,” his other hand slides to place itself on the bare skin of your inner thigh, watching with sadistic pleasure as you jolt and yelp in surprise, “I’ll show you what it is you’ve been searching for.”

Your skin is tender as he begins to trail forward, eager to touch you and familiarize himself with you— only to get stopped by your trembling hand, his eyes darting to your troubled face, brows furrowing with confusion as he watches you muster the courage to say something.

“N…Not…” it feels as though nerves and fear have swallowed you whole, having to take a deep breath in order to continue your sentence, “Not here. Not like this.”

“Hmm? But where else could this possibly happen?” he asks teasingly, much too desperate to heed your half-hearted request, “my lamb, it is perfect here.”

“Beomgyu, this place, it’s sacred,” your lips pressed together, using all the courage within you to speak up, “It is a home to me, I couldn’t bear to desecrate it—”

Beomgyu’s fingers dig into the plush of your thigh, able to feel his face hover over yours as he speaks through gritted teeth, eyes burning holes into your skin.

“This was my home too.”

It all happens so suddenly; you’re pushed to lay back against the table, legs forced open as Beomgyu gets closer still, your lips parting in a soft gasp as he successfully bunches your nightgown at your hips, looming over you so he can undo your coat.

“And our lord has decreed that it is here where I finally take you.” he hisses, watches as you can only let our a broken whimper and shift restlessly beneath him; the fire has consumed you wholly by now, he knows, the seeds of lust planted within you far too much for a person like you to bare— even the graze of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to have you gasping.

“I’ve waited long enough to taste you.”

Your body is alight with nerves, buzzing at the sensations around you— though you see nothing, it heightens your other senses, forced to take note of every motion and touch Beomgyu leaves on you, from his deft hands that undo your coat to the warmth of his body between your thighs, lips pressed together in a mix of anticipation and dread— all you can do is lie and wait.

When Beomgyu’s hands slither back down to your core, you’re a squirming mess; he’s done nothing to you, yet you already seem so broken down and pliant— you’re a sweet sight, bitten lips parting eagerly in surprise once he suddenly plants his hand firmly against your core; your panties are pathetically soaked through, a soft cry escaping you at the heat of his touch against you, hands flying to grab at his wrist— unsure of whether to press him closer of pry him off.

In the end, you do neither of the two. Beomgyu grins at your hesitation, a clear battle still ongoing inside your mind as you allow him to slowly rock his palm against your cunt, rubbing at your clit and causing you to sob softly at the unfamiliar sensation; your back arches and jolts of pleasure strike through you, the underlying guilt of it all causing tears to quickly well up at the corners of your eyes— though, from pleasure or shame, you’re no longer sure of.

“Poor thing,” he coos softly, applying a sudden pressure against your cunt, all to watch the way your back arches in surprise, “it’s quite easy to make you cry, isn’t it?”

“This must all be so new to you,” he hums, rubbing at your cunt until your panties have begun to stick uncomfortably to you, your arousal soaking through and coating the heel of his hand thickly, “so pretty. Like an angel.”

His words cause a wave of heat to wash over your body; you feel restless, desperate for more, yet unsure of how to communicate as you find yourself hesitating each time, the undying guilt within you forcing your fingertips to dig into Beomgyu’s forearm a bit deeper.

“Hmm? What is it you need, my lamb?” he asks, even if he can practically see the thoughts running through your head, reading your body and the way your hips fight to cant against his hand, “Tell me, what do you want?”

The way you shake your head petulantly brings a huff from Beomgyu; he watches as you heat up at his question, lips trembling with embarrassment, chin tucked down into your chest as though it would be enough to hide from his gaze— chuckling, Beomgyu allows a few more seconds to pass, letting you sit with your own confliction, before he finally decides to take pity on you; a shaky gasp escapes your lips as Beomgyu’s hand shifts, middle and ring fingers trailing up until they press against the fabric of your panties, pushing in and teasing your leaking hole.

“Why do you hold back still?” he asks softly, his hand that isn’t teasing you incessantly smoothing down your thigh, stopping at your knee so he can wrap it around his slim waist, “there’s no need to continue this act of yours; do not lie under the eyes of god.”

You cry softly, a cacophony of emotions raging within you as your nails dig deeper into your palms, cunt throbbing and sending sparks of electricity as Beomgyu presses his fingers further into you, stretching the fabric and soaking it with your own arousal— through hushed, trembled words, you finally gather the courage to speak.

“I want…” you hesitate, shifting on the cold marble of the altar table, turning your head to the side in a faux attempt to avoid Beomgyu’s scrutiny, “I want more.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beomgyu immediately chides, his fingers moving to ghost over your clit, a satisfied smile growing on his face as you feel the shocks of pleasure from his movements, already too much for your innocent body, “you expect me to take such a weak request seriously?”

You gasp in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly takes a hold of your chin, forcing you to face him once more as you feel him hovering over you; his breath fans across your face, eyelids fluttering behind your blindfold at the sensation.

“Tell me again,” he says, his fingers applying just the slightest more pressure on your clit, watching as the pleasure breaks you effortlessly; his lips brush against the corner of your mouth, able to feel his coy smile as he speaks. “Tell me like you mean it.”

Beomgyu waits for you eagerly; his touch on your cunt is almost nonexistent, applying just enough pressure here and there as a reminder of what it is you so desperately wish for— it’s so easy to get you to where he wants, he thinks, watching you become overwhelmed by his presence, by the pleasure he continues to give and take away. After a mere few seconds, you finally cave.

“Beomgyu…” you trail off, the sudden use of his name bringing a shiver through his body, the sound sweet and pure like he dreamed it to be, “Beomgyu, I can’t— I feel so strange, please help me— I need more.”

He chuckles lowly at your words; placing a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth, Beomgyu straightens up, leaving you for a moment in order to hook his fingers under your panties, ready to drag them slowly down your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he sighs aloud, watching with fond eyes as you startle at the sensation, legs jumping to close back together— but he won’t allow it, standing firmly between them and forcing your hips to lift, all so he can pull off the only article of clothing standing between him and what he’s desired for so long; his eyes darken at the string of arousal that follows the seat of your panties, eagerly taking in your puffy, needy cunt, body becoming alight with a carnal need to consume you whole. “You’re perfect. Truly a gift from god.”

He can’t help but grin at his own comment, eyes flickering back up at the altar above him, the candles that flicker wildly— then he looks back down at you, your puffy, tear stained face and your hands that remain tense at your sides, lips pressed together in fear of letting a sound escape— but Beomgyu is much too eager to let you have what you want.

This ashamed and reserved attitude of yours will be no more— he’s determined to have you melt under his touch, fingertips curious as they finally begin to caress your bare cunt, teeth sinking into his lip as he takes in every gasp, arch, and tense your body gives him.

It’s slow and oh so cruel, the way he swipes the pads of his fingertips along your slit, bringing the arousal to your clit and circling it softly, all so he can watch you pant and shiver at the sensations— your hands have moved to grasp at your clothes, jaw clenched as your mind tries to keep up with all these new sensations: you feel so hot and restless, a fiery itch settling deep in your core, only alleviated with the stray sparks of pleasure Beomgyu gives you— it’s too much, yet not enough at all.

“Won’t you let me hear you?” Beomgyu asks, fingers beginning to prod at your entrance, circling it leisurely as he observes you, “it’s no fun like this.”

You can hear the pout in his words, petulant and teasing as he coos out your name, “C’mon, I know you sound as sweet as you look.”

You’re given no warning when his fingers breach your entrance; a yelp escapes you before you can process it, the sudden stretch bringing chills down your spine— it’s just his middle finger first, lithe and calculated as it curls and prods at your walls, feeling you flutter and clench around him as he adds his ring finger in next— you’re letting out a cry at how fast it all happens, a hand reaching down to grasp at his wrist, a mixture of shock and pleasure filling your being.

“Beomgyu…!”

“Again,” he murmurs, fingers beginning to stretch your walls, pumping steadily and curling, listening to the quiet mewls and moans you let out, “louder. Show me how much you like it.”

“Beomgyu… oh–! N-not there, ah–!” You’re a squirming mess, shifting beneath his hold and shaking your head, the feelings far too much for you— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to heed your requests, abusing the soft, spongy parts of your walls that seem to make you react the most; you choke and hiccup pathetic moans, thighs tensing and spasming around him, hands shaking from the tight hold you have on your nightgown; it gets difficult having to chase your hips after a while, Beomgyu’s eyes narrowing as he places a harsh hand down on you, pinning you down against the table, fingers digging into the soft skin as you gasp.

“Stay still.” is all he says to you, palm pressing against your clit as he slowly fingers you, drinking in the miniscule changes of your expression eagerly, “Don’t fight it.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks, punctuating his words with a cruel curl into you; you gasp, chest heaving as a tight coil builds up within you, “doesn’t it feel so nice?”

“So sad, you’ve been denying yourself such bliss for so long,” Beomgyu utters softly, cooing at the way you cry and struggle to remain sane, overwhelmed by everything Beomgyu does to you, “won’t you let me take care of you?”

Carefully, he hovers over you, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, lips caressing the column of your neck as he smiles softly.

“Wouldn’t you like for me to taste you?”

He’s sure you don’t fully grasp what it is he might mean— but you’re eager nonetheless, a gasp escaping your lips, so soft he might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been so close— the tight clench of your cunt around him is enough of a sign anyway.

You can only hear shifting; your ears perk up as you try to decipher what could be happening, feeling Beomgyu’s hand wander down your thighs, the loss of his heat above you, the flickering warmth of the candles around you— you lay still, with bated breath and buzzing nerves.

Your mouth falls open, a loud moan falling from your mouth and bouncing off the walls.

It’s all too much for your poor, inexperienced body; it’s overwhelming, the pleasure wrapping you up and burning you alive as your thighs attempt to shut, only to close in on Beomgyu’s head that remains steady, large hands splayed on your hips as he holds you down, his mouth continuing his assault against your cunt.

The chants of his name and your broken moans are enough to keep him motivated— he’s lapping at your clit hungrily, moving down to suck at the arousal that leaks from your entrance, perfect nose bumping into you as he sighs and groans against you.

You think you might’ve gone mad; sounds you didn’t think were possible are escaping you, each more pitiful and helpless than the last. Your hands wander absentmindedly, not realizing what it is you’re searching for until they’ve finally curled into his thick hair, tangling strands around your fingers and tugging rashly— you can feel him moan against you at the actions, the feeling bringing a shiver down your spine.

“B-Beom…gyu!” you whine out, hips attempting to wiggle out of his hold, hands tugging his head closer— your eyes remain screwed tight behind your blindfold, tears pricking at them as your mind races to process what is happening to you— between your legs, Beomgyu grins triumphantly, nails digging into your delicate thighs as he licks a long stripe along your slit.

In times like these, Beomgyu can’t help but be reminded of who he is, what his existence is for— his tongue is long, abnormally so, as it enters you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he laps up your essence and fucks you with it, listening to your startled cries morph into nothing but wanton lust, choking on the syllables of his name and brokenly pleading for him to not stop— as if he could ever be capable of doing so.

You’re delicious, like a ripe fruit that has been eyed for too long, too high on a tree for anyone to take— victory feels sweet on Beomgyu’s tongue as you clench and leak around him, allowing you to grind against him and take the reins of what you want, giving you the pleasure you seek— and he can feel you getting wound up quite quickly, your keens and cries loud enough to rival the screams of fear you were letting out only moments ago— but then again, none of that matters as long as Beomgyu has his hands on you.

You’re almost there, a climax strong enough to wreck you approaching quickly— and as much as Beomgyu would love to feel it, to swallow your cum as it drips out your fluttering cunt— he can’t. Not yet, and certainly not like this. Though it pains him, he pulls away from your cunt that attempts to suck him back in.

The sob you let out almost makes Beomgyu regret his decision; you’re a broken, confused mess, panting like a dog as you cry and wonder why it is that Beomgyu stopped so suddenly— gently, Beomgyu pries your hands off from where they tug at his hair, listening to your disoriented mumbles of his name, reaching blindly for him as he rises to his feet. And you’re left in the darkness once more.

Before you can react, Beomgyu’s hands lift your head, quickly undoing your blindfold, letting it fall against the altar next to your face; your eyes flutter open from the action, brows furrowed as everything slowly comes into focus.

Beomgyu hovers above you, the flickering candlelight around the two of you casting an ethereal glow around his face; it is warm and fond as he looks down at you, plump lips pulled into a gentle smile as he caresses your cheek, letting out a breathy chuckle at the way you fluster immediately, unable to hold his gaze.

“Look at me.” he says, his voice compelling enough to have you following his command, the feeling so natural you haven’t realized you’ve obeyed until you’re meeting his dark eyes— there is no light in his pupils, despite the many sources that continue to fall onto the two of you. He smiles, a hand continuing its reassuring strokes against your skin, the other moving down to grab your thigh, wrapping it around his waist once more. “Don’t be afraid— keep your eyes on me.”

You feel something prodding at your entrance; you stiffen, breath hitching and hands instinctively reaching up to place themselves flat against Beomgyu’s chest— with wide eyes, you stare back at him, unable to break this entrancing spell you’ve caught yourself in, lips parting in a silent gasp as Beomgyu’s eyes soften. Slowly, he pushes in.

The feeling of his cockhead breaching your walls has you gasping sharply, shock painting your face and nails digging into your chest as your back arches slightly— the stretch is new and unexpected, the feeling of him inside you causing your stomach to twist in pain and pleasure— it’s so sudden, you feel as though you’re not ready, yet your body cries for him to continue, feeling him pause and still inside you.

The smile on Beomgyu’s face is practically permanent; words could not explain the satisfaction he feels, the twisted victory he gains from every inch he pushes inside you, virgin walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice, your wide, doe eyes glazing over with pleasure the longer he takes, the more he allows you to adjust.

Your chest heaves by the time he’s fully inside you, face screwing up as you feel him bottom out, his tip pressing firmly into you— your voice breaks as you call out his name, searching for comfort he will not be able to provide. Instead, he coos softly at you, empty, sugary words and reassurances that are merely practiced in his mind, feathery caresses against your temple as he shushes you, telling you that everything’s okay, that you’ll feel good soon enough.

“I’ve got you,” he purrs, even if you continue to tense every time he shifts, legs twitching at the sheer stretch you’ve suddenly been forced to take. “It’s okay, don’t be nervous.”

When he begins to pull out, criminally slow and teasing, you gasp— and he grins, fully expecting it as he hovers over your lips, only to press a chaste kiss to your nose as he moves to stand straight, only the tip of his cock left inside you.

The sight of you is nothing short of divine; just seeing you like this is enough to bring him energy, greedy gaze taking in your broken expression, eyes flickering to your parted lips that tremble and gasp out his name. He groans softly, the eyes fluttering shut as he takes a moment to appreciate the way your cunt clenches around him, warm and wet, nothing like the scraps he was forced to feed on as punishment. You’re perfect, pure, full of life.

Before he can second guess himself, his hips slam back in.

The pace he’s set is nothing short of cruel; his feather-light touches and chaste kisses had been nothing but a show, all an attempt to lower your guard and allow him to seize you at your weakest; you yelp in surprise and attempt to cling onto him, overwhelmed by the harshness of his cock as it pounds into you, aiming for the most sensitive spots within you that leave you begging and crying out— but whether it’s for him to stop or continue, you’re not entirely sure— your reasoning blurred into one big mess long ago.

It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu to lose himself in the feeling of you; greedy, rough hands grasping at your skin, groping the soft skin of your thighs, your hips, wandering up to squeeze and toy with your breasts— and you can only lay there and take it all, watching him use you to satisfy himself, unable to help the way your cunt clenches and drools at the sight. His hips angle and his cock slams deep against you, hitting a spot he’s never hit before— and you stiffen, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cry out.

“Oh!” you yelp, tears pooling at your eyes, a hand slamming over your mouth at the sudden noise— but even so, your muffled cries still slip out from the cracks of your fingers. “O-Oh my—! ah—!”

“Why silence yourself?” Beomgyu laughs softly, slightly out of breath as he continues to cling to you, hips rutting wildly into you, chasing that familiar bliss he grew addicted to; he proceeds to aim for that particular spot over and over, watching tears ebb from the corners of your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face and dripping onto the pristine white marble of the altar table. “Go on, say it.”

“Say it, call out their name, let this whole sanctuary know how good it feels,” he hisses, face hovering over yours once more, eager to watch you crumble.

“Call to your god,” he whispers, a soft moan falling between heavy breaths, feeling the way you squeeze and suck him in, your peak approaching much too fast for you to handle, “go on, pray that they forgive your sins and look past the way your tight cunt begs to keep this demon inside you.”

His cock feels like heaven inside you; it’s relentless, slamming into you as his hand falls from its tight hold on your thigh to your clit, rubbing tight circles that cause your body to tighten until it can no longer hold back.

“Oh my God— Beomgyu!” you’re a drooling, tearful, pitiful sight as you finally crash down, sobbing and babbling words that blend together, your hands pulling at Beomgyu’s shirt until you’re bringing him down to you.

Beomgyu’s kiss is celestial. His lips slot perfectly against yours, a soft grunt escaping him as he finally cums inside you; thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your cunt, filling you until you can no longer hold it in— you tremble and you hold Beomgyu close to you throughout it all, your mind emptied out and craving nothing but him.

Your eyes flutter shut; your body tingles, your hold on him weakening as you begin to slump back against the altar. It’s getting harder to move, sluggishly trying your best to keep up with Beomgyu’s sloppy kisses, your chest beginning to cave in as your lungs burn and beg for air.

You want to pull away. You want to stop— yet, you find with a delayed horror that you can’t.

Beomgyu won’t pull away; Beomgyu can’t pull away, feeling his arms snake beneath your figure, one wrapping around your waist tightly, the other slithering up your back and cradling the back of your head, holding it up so he can keep you as close to him as possible.

Your vision has begun to blur; your hands have fallen limp at your sides. You feel weakened, only your lips able to move as they mindlessly follow after Beomgyu, sluggish and messy movements that go on whether you want to or not.

Behind him, a crackling sound emits; the candles around you flicker wildly, divine feathers that were once proudly on display above you beginning to darken and fall, burning off and becoming a charred black— blood seeps from the crevices where feathers slip away, landing on top of you and on the altar you lay on.

His wings are a shriveled, grisly sight. He’s transformed entirely before your very eyes, pulling away slowly and sighing softly into your parted lips. Slowly, his hands slither off you, laying you gently and standing straight to take in the mess he’s made. All you can do is stare back through bleary eyes.

“My lamb,” he says affectionately, bringing a hand up to cup your face; it is only then that you’re able to notice the state of his hands, charred and injured, just like his wings, animal-like claws replacing his nails. They dig slightly into your skin as he smiles down at you, utterly enamored.

“I will cherish this ‘till kingdom come.”

His enchanting expression is the last thing you see. His claw moves faster than the human eye can process as it slices cleanly across the canvas of your neck.

Your body jolts at the action, not a single shift in your expression as your body relaxes against the altar table. Your eyes remain open and dazed with pleasure.

Blood flows from the deep crack of his cut; it flows from your mouth as well, and all Beomgyu can do is watch as the color slowly fades from your skin, the light in your eyes no more. He looms over you in silence, lingering on even when he knows there’s nothing left for him there. A pool of your blood has formed around your head, a twisted halo that stains the marble.

Beomgyu’s eyes remain transfixed on your wound, emotionless eyes watching the blood drip out steadily. Then, they begin to wander, trailing down until they stop at a certain point, hypnotized by the thought that suddenly enters his mind.

Before he can second guess himself, Beomgyu’s hand hovers above your chest.

It is not easy to reach your heart. It is an obscene and difficult process, though Beomgyu doesn’t bat an eye throughout it all; blood coats his forearm once he finally succeeds, a happy hum escaping him as he examines the item in his hands with fascination.

It’s just as transcendent as the rest of you. Taking your life force was enough to make Beomgyu feel normal again, but with this, he’s sure that you would fuel his energy for the rest of his miserable eternity.

His eyes soften; it’s so fragile, it drips onto his skin and sings to him, the last of your innocence begging to be released, to be given peace; instead, Beomgyu brings it closer to him, sighing slowly as he gets one last look at it.

And he bites.

He can almost hear your voice, the memories trapped within as he closes his eyes, chewing and swallowing and biting again. Tilting his head back, he all but groans in satisfaction.

His eyes slowly flutter open. He’s met with the chandeliers above him, the looming altar to his left calling his attention. Apathetically, his head lolls to the side, getting a better look at the statues that stand over him. Taking another bite, he feels blood leak onto his lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile.

He’s never tasted anything purer.

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