#i. put so much of my heart and soul into that relationship. for four year

[fangel]

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader

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

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

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

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

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

You were positive that it was something they wanted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s safe to have a little fun. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“None of that. It’s not what-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.” 

“Pardon?” His brows furrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What keeps you there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both?” his head tilts. 

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

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunghoon, do you trust me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I’ve never had-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay…” you swallow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[neiptune]

to hell with the stars, keep shooting for the moon

cw: 3k wc, female reader, established relationship, suggestive if you squint, reader is a gymnast, my entry for the super fun summer olympics collab by @tetzoro! hope you'll enjoy the little surprise i squeezed in hehe

“For the last time, I’m not having sex with you on one of those cardboard beds”.

Atsumu isn’t the least bit discouraged by your exasperated scowl, which is met with a pout.

“But babe-”

“I don’t care how many times Tobio’s done it, ‘Tsumu” you click your tongue.

“It’s just so fucking bizarre that he gets so much action, the guy doesn’t even do anything! Shoyo agrees, we discussed it and still couldn’t find a reason” the blond, excessively petulant Miya who makes it a point to be the bane of your existence, keeps listing all the reasons why he believes his teammate shouldn’t be getting laid in the olympic village. Or anywhere else ever, for the matter.

The heated arguments float through a distant hemisphere of your brain, where they dissolve before you can quite catch their meaning and soon enough become simple sounds you’re passively absorbing, thoughts too preoccupied with something entirely different.

The choreographies you put together with your trainer have been playing in the back of your mind ever since last night, after the all-around individual qualification round. You are part of the 10 gymnasts with the highest scores, four performances with each apparatus earning a fairly decent ranking and good enough points. Well, they’re certainly good enough, given that you get to represent Japan at the individual final. But you just know they could be better. Your feet should’ve been firmer, hands less sweaty around the clubs, you should’ve stretched for at least 50 minutes prior to the routine instead of the usual 40 ones.

Pulse picks up in pace, heart thrumming faster against your ribcage, dizziness clouds your mind for a moment as different moves chase each other in rapid succession: the penché comes first, then follows the elbow stand, front walkover, one forward roll, a chest stand-

Gentle, calloused fingers grasp your chin and tilt your head upwards in silent demand. Look at me.

“Get out of there and talk to me, sugar” the fondness in his chocolate gaze is a balm that instantly soothes the churning sensation sabotaging your stomach.

“I won’t make it” it’s blunt, raw in its honesty “I’m too scared”.

“Ya worked your ass off the past four years. Your entire life actually”.

“I know”.

“And whatever happens, you’re one of the best ten gymnasts in the world”.

“I know”.

Atsumu gets closer as his hands hold your face now, gentle but firm, an all too familiar flame starts dancing in feverish eyes.

“But?”.

You recognize that gaze, the raging, febrile determination taking over. He gets it on his side of the net, where he gets to run the show. And oh, isn’t that always a sight for sore eyes? It certainly was at the olympics too, when the entire world got to witness what Japan is already used to. The game against Argentina was nothing short of glorious, the way Atsumu coordinated his team’s offense, established the entire tempo and overall built the confidence in his passers had the crowds chanting his name over and over again. By the evening, you’re positive at least a hundred new Miya Atsumu fan accounts had started following you on instagram.

And yet he doesn’t take any of it for granted. Atsumu always gives his very best, at the olympics or during regular training with his friends. Whether Tobio is going to play or not. That passion simply sets his soul ablaze at all times, with no exception. He’s the man you love and the only one who can truly understand how you feel, the one person who is ignited with the same delirious resolve currently burning in the pit of your stomach.

“But I really want that fucking medal” you whisper. Not to prove him that you have it in you just like he does: truth is you’re the only person who needs additional convincing.

Sharp canines make their appearance when Atsumu smiles widely.

“Then go get it. The hell are you scared of? That medal belongs to you”.

Your eyelids flutter as they fall shut, a deep breath filling your lungs with fresh air. When you open your eyes again, you feel your heart filling up with something else too.

“I love you”.

His eyes soften at that, affection pools within crinkles by the eyes as a confident grin morphs into a warm smile.

“Love ya more, champion” Atsumu kisses your forehead with tenderness, lingers for a moment too long with lips pressing to your skin with intention. Then he lets go of your face but not before searching for any remnants of self-doubt. His chest swells with pride when all he can find in your eyes is that determination he adores.

“Will you be there?” you ask because you can’t help it. It’s perfectly understandable that he might not be able to, his schedule is just as busy as yours and Japan’s final game is just two days away. It’s not entirely fair to ask and someone else might’ve rolled their eyes with a sigh, reminded you that they don’t get to decide that. But not Atsumu. He takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips to kiss each knuckle.

“I’ll do everything I can to be there”.

“Thank you” you lightly pinch his nose with an infatuated smile and he fakes a groan “see you later”.

“I love you!” he shouts as you run away, loud and obnoxious and passionate, just like his affection always is. Once again, Atsumu’s love is thrown over your shoulders like a comforting blanket that weighs just right.

Back at the beginning of your relationship, you had to unlearn a very specific thought process that posed the risk of ending something that still hadn’t had the chance to fully start. It was your first time dating another pro athlete, a very talented and quite renowned one no less. You were first introduced to him at a party, he had no idea who you were but of course you were all too familiar with his name and accomplishments.

Miya Atsumu was a pro volleyball player, known for his exceptional flair and fierce passion ever since high school. His reputation made you believe that, as an athlete yourself, you had to prove him that you were just as good in your own sport. Wasn’t that all he’d be interested in? Dating someone who wouldn’t embarrass him with their mediocrity, someone who wouldn’t stain his polished reputation?

Turns out, by no means Atsumu was interested in all that. He asked if it was okay for him to come watch one of your competitions, coincidentally one of your worst ones. You were all too aware of how badly you had competed, nerves and a recent flu contributing to a terrible performance, yet at the end of it Atsumu greeted you with stars in his eyes. He couldn’t stop talking about how elegant yet strong you looked, going as far as describing your choreographies as breathtaking. With a nervous chuckle, he half-jokingly said he couldn’t believe you’d let him date you. 

That’s when you kissed him for the first time, fiery and feverish in a way that would’ve probably scared anyone else off. Not Atsumu, though. He wrapped his arms around you without so much as an ounce of hesitation, kissed you back like it was the last action he was allowed to perform on this earth. And you knew: he didn’t need you to be a winner, to be shiny at all times, to feel proud. To love you. Whether you end up bringing the medal home or not, he will still be your biggest fan and loudest supporter.

The intensity of the crowd doesn’t bother you at all: given your anxious nature, Chisaka-san has been adamant about training you with headphones and loud tapes for years. Music, cheers, booing, clapping, national anthems, you’re used to it all by now.

You observe the ukrainian gymnast, the way she moves so elegantly with her colorful ribbon. It looks like she’s flying, hopping on invisible steps made of air, sparkly leotard catching the light just right. Yours cost a fortune: handmade, sewn in Italy, a triumph of colorful stretch mesh, thermal crystals and sew-on rhinestones in various sizes and shapes.

As Chisaka-san helps you practice the usual deep breaths with a hand pressed to your chest, your eyes are still glued to your opponent. The podium is yours, unless you fuck up so badly even the bronze slips away. Daryna currently has the highest score and it’s certain she will protect the lead at the end of her final routine. Then follows Bulgaria’s Katerina, but you’re hardly worried about her: she finished her last exercise without catching the ribbon, a penalty you can easily overcome if luck and nerves are on your side.

When after an impeccable Daryna your name is announced at last, your trainer gives your butt a friendly, encouraging pat. She believed in you more than anyone else, more than yourself. She knew you’d qualify for the olympics and would be flying to Paris before you could even dream of such an achievement. And now you get to honor her trust, you get to prove that Paris is where you belong. The podium is yours because like hell you’re allowing it to slip away. But you want more, you want that gold.

The crowd seems louder now, flags raised in flashes of white and red in your peripheral as you smile radiantly and position yourself to start the routine. You don’t check if Atsumu was able to make it, don’t allow yourself to think of anything but the way your feet and legs and arms and hands are supposed to move.

The longest 85 seconds of your life begin along with the music, Piazzolla’s libertango but with a modern, energetic arrangement. The ribbon is not as scary as the hoop, it moves with you like an old friend, seamless and reliable. You throw the handle into the air and perform two forward rolls before catching it again in one fluid motion, lips perpetually stretched into a confident smile. The crowd erupts in deafening cheers at your backscale pivot, the more you keep cutting through the air with precision, control and passion, the more your smile grows. Yes, this is where you belong, this is what you love and were made to do.

There’s your signature move, difficult and risky and one Chisaka-san always attempts to talk you out of: a technical element, Bessonova’s swan, while simultaneously kicking the ribbon into the air with your foot once more. You catch it one last time, perform an aerial cartwheel and then a perfectly balanced backward somersault, wrap yourself in the colorful shades of your apparatus and gracefully conclude the routine on the floor.

The crowd is ear-splitting in their support and you don’t have to wait for the score to know: it was perfect. It’s the best you ever did and the tension finally melts into hot tears as you wave and smile and foolishly attempt to wipe the wetness from your cheeks at the same time. Chisaka-san wraps you up in her comforting embrace and you hide your face in her white uniform, ears ringing, blood scorching in veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“I can’t look” you whisper into her shoulder and she gently guides you to the bench, all emotional murmurs and soft touches. She sits next to you, holds your hand as you force a quivering smile to the camera, peace sign held high. And then you can barely catch a glimpse of your scores before Chisaka-san forces you into her arms and against her chest again, right as fresh tears stain your cheeks. She lets you have this moment, shields your first reaction from the world and the prying eyes of cameras that are on you once more because holy shit, Daryna has a 140.60 but you have a 142.850. They gave you a difficulty score of 19.300 and an execution one of 8.550.

“I knew it!” Chisaka-san is the only thing keeping you grounded because it truly feels as if you’re floating. It doesn’t matter how badly you wanted it, how much you fought for it, the moment doesn’t feel real. Not even as the other gymnasts come to hug you and you congratulate them in turn, it’s a whirlwind of all-encompassing love and support and mutual happiness. Moments like this make your sport truly special, they remind you that fierce competition only feels right when balanced by appreciation for your opponents’ efforts and individual journeys.

The crowd erupts in new, loud cheering and you catch a glimpse of the different face the cameras are now focusing on. A handsome face with suspicious dampness glistening on cheeks and a smile so warm, beaming with pride. You can’t help but smile back as your legs move on autopilot, a bottle of water dropped to the floor as you sprint towards the bleachers. Atsumu is in the front row and he easily catches you right as you jump onto him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Told ya. It belongs to you” he whispers in your ear and you almost start crying again at the trembling in his voice, so many overwhelming emotions swarming in your chest at once.

“Thank you for believing in me” you mutter and pull back to look at him, because even in a venue packed with people and cameras and journalists he still manages to be the brightest, the one thing you could look at forever without ever growing tired of it.

“Always” Atsumu grins, eyes glazed with defiant tears “you did so well. Look at ya, my girl’s an olympic medalist!”.

And because you know he won’t do it, god forbid he takes the most special moment of your life away from you, you kiss him. It’s brief, two pecks that linger just enough before he lets you go, urges you to go back out there and celebrate. You don’t care that videos of this moment are probably going to be flooding every social media platform in a matter of minutes, similarly to how Atsumu hardly gives a damn about all the phones and cameras he has in his face when he runs to you after a game, whether his team wins or not.

It’s hard not to tear up again as the japanese national anthem echoes through the building, so many people singing along as you stand on the podium you have dreamed of every single day of your life. You smile, proud and big, take selfies with the other two medalists and make sure you hug every single gymnast you come across goodbye before walking out of the venue, a promise to catch up with your trainer in the evening.

Atsumu waits for you outside, he doesn’t have any additional training left for the day and you want nothing more than to walk back to the village with him, lovesick smile growing in size when you spot him underneath the afternoon sun, golden light caught beautifully in that honey blond hair.

“There she comes, the girl of my dreams” he coos and you roll your eyes with affection “I hear she’s now the greatest gymnast in the world, too!”.

“Corny” you murmur against his lips as he pulls you in for a real kiss, one of those you’re never willing to give him in front of the cameras.

“About those cardboard beds…” it’s a faint whisper into his mouth but it’s enough for Atsumu to pick you up and twirl until you’re both laughing between kisses, until someone clearing their throat prompts you to abruptly pull back and force your feet onto the ground again.

When you turn around, the embarrassed smile quickly grows into a surprised grin. The stranger is looking back at you with the faintest hint of a smirk and Atsumu isn’t entirely sure he loves the way you take a tentative step toward him.

“Congrats. It was a good routine, not your best though”.

“Oh my god” you chuckle, astonished, and Atsumu is now certain he doesn’t enjoy watching you run to hug this weird, 6’1 stranger with dark hair and teal eyes. He definitely doesn’t enjoy the way the stranger wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I should’ve known you’d be here! How long has it been? Look at you, all grown up!” you let him go, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Too long” he concedes and if the stranger wasn’t still all caught up in old, familiar patterns of stubborn coldness, maybe he would be able to utter the truth about how much he’s missed one of his oldest friends.

“I missed you” as usual, you take it upon yourself to fill the spaces left empty by his obstinacy with warmth. His eyes soften and you smile again as you turn to look at your boyfriend.

“’Tsumu, c’mere!” you’re holding out a hand, an impatient invitation “come meet Rin!”

Atsumu is openly wary of your friend, one you’re obviously close enough to address by his first name. As he shakes his hand with a fake megawatt smile, Rin seems to be equally skeptical and does nothing to hide it.

“He’s your boyfriend?” he asks, briefly scanning Atsumu from head to toe with an openly dubious gaze “came all the way here just to support you?”

“Atsumu is a pro volleyball player, he’s in the national team just like you!”

“Volleyball, huh?” Rin cocks his head “doesn’t really interest me. I find it to be overrated”.

“I mean…”.

“And what would your sport be, Itoshi?” Atsumu can feel a vein throb on his forehead as he politely interrupts you.

“Soccer”.

“Oh!” a seemingly friendly laugh bubbles up from his throat but you recognize the petulant vibration to it “soccer! I think there’s only so long you can watch a player throw himself on the ground because he stubbed his toe on the grass or, I don’t know, try the same failed corner kick for the millionth time”.

You uncomfortably clear your throat and Rin directs his attention to you once more. Isn’t that what being a mature adult is all about? Ignoring pretentious assholes he doesn’t even know?

“I mean it, by the way. You deserve that gold more than anyone else I know”.

“C’mon, say it” you chuckle “I know you noticed”.

He mirrors your smile, pleased that the familiarity strengthened by years of friendship is still here.

“Barely catched that ribbon in the end, could’ve made that front walkover less stiff. Good job overall, though”.

Atsumu wants to punch him in the goddamn face, especially as you laugh once more.

“How come he’s so familiar with gymnastics?” he asks instead.

“Rin used to come watch my training sessions back in high school, although it’s insane to me that he still remembers!”.

“She never missed any of my trainings either” Rin smirks once more, gaze locked to the man in front of him.

“Speaking of!” you lightly smack his arm “when are you guys playing?”.

“Tomorrow. I can arrange special seats if you want”.

“Oh, I’d love to come! We should totally go, ‘Tsumu!”.

“Yeah, totally” Atsumu forces another smile onto his lips.

That night, as you’re cuddled against his chest on that infuriatingly uncomfortable cardboard bed, he believes it’s of the utmost importance to share the picture of you with an adorable smile and the medal around your neck as you stand proudly on that podium, followed by the two of you kissing right after your win.

miyatsumu the most hardworking person I know. my golden girl, now an olympic champion ❤️🥇

He thinks it’s a good caption and, as you softly snore in the quiet of the dark room, Atsumu also believes he’s in a mood good enough to decide not to block Shoyo on the spot after receiving his stupidly enthusiastic text about befriending some super nice dude on the national soccer team.

Whoever the hell Isagi Yoichi is anyway.

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

This is my 5th Buddie Rec List! I started compiling this list last April and omg looking back through them now I desperately need to reread them all. Highly recommend all of these fics, also please show the authors some love in their comments xx Happy Easter lovelies <3 REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend. 

i got all my sisters with me by @useramor | T | 6k

Established relationship Buddie. Eddie’s sister has a baby and they travel down to Texas to meet the baby. DIAZ SIBLINGS UNITE! Seriously though the sibling dynamic in this is off the charts and Buck and Eddie are sickeningly in love, it is quite beautiful.

meet me where the tide comes in by @iinryer | G | 4k

A 3+1 fic about Eddie getting kissed on the head. FOREHEAD KISSES PTSD MORE HEAD KISSES AND BOYS IN LOVE!! Need I say anything more??

The one where Buck gets turned into a dog by @911onabc | G | 9k

Law Suit era BUT WAIT WAIT….DOG BUCK!! I am a sucker for fic where one of them gets turned into an animal. They are much more free with their affection when they think it's just a dog, or just a cat, and the bond between Eddie and "Boy" is so so wonderful. And I do love a happy ending xx

can't do this anymore (do it anyway) by @chronicowboy | T | 2k

Short and sweet but GOD this packs a punch. Eddie starts dating after the lightning strike and Buck is feeling Big Bad about it. He is so sad it truly breaks my heart but all works itself out in the end and Eddie proves Buck’s fears wrong.

We Found Each Other (Over There)  by @thekristen999 | T | 46k

Buddie WWII AU. A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. This fic is a legitimate masterpiece. I cannot describe to you the quality of this fic because it is beyond words but I will tell you I stayed up until 3:30 am to finish it in one sitting and was left broken but made so so whole again. 

the mortifying ordeal of being known by @the-amber-raven | G | 60k

AU where Bobby is Buck’s adoptive Dad and Eddie is dating Buck but Eddie and Bobby think they are talking about two different people. Buck is training at the fire academy but hiding it from Bobby. This fic is the most beautiful tangle of miscommunication, love and family. 

like all good things are by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 7k

Perfect, amazing, soul-destroying, magical, healing Fic. This literally covers all the bases. Chim and Bobby both get injured. OH! and Buck and Eddie were secretly dating all along. READ THIS FIC PEEPS!

find a way to you (if it kills me) by @eddiediazes  | M | 19k

The one where Eddie decides to start dating again, Buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief. BUCK PINING LV.10000000!

and i’d choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 | E | 16k

Amnesia Exes fic by the wonderful Rae. Buck and Eddie fall in love via a penpal program and then Buck vanishes. This fic is set four years later. I literally could not put it down. I was reading it in class and then sat in my car for who knows how long just to finish it because I could not continue my day without knowing how it ended.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) by @loserdiaz | M | 18k 

APRIL'S FAMOUS!BUCK AND ARMY!EDDIE FIC!! In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. OH THEY PINNNEEEEE! It’s delicious. 

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by @chronicowboy | M | 21k 

Alternative S7, Buddie Divorce Era Pt.2. Buck does something reckless and Eddie gets angry about it but these boys cannot communicate effectively to save their lives! This fic is peak angst to a happy ending and I felt like I had a hole in my chest OMG.

left your mark on this heart by @chronicowboy | G | 5k

Buck gets medically diagnosed with butterflies and the doctor makes him write in a notebook every time it happens. Surprise, surprise, the cause and effect is Eddie-related. The notebook entries kill me in the best way, the happiest happy ending

ALSO, YES THIS IS THE THIRD FIC BY THE SAME AUTHOR ON THIS LIST WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?? READ IT IS WHAT! COS THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD. 

endless numbered days by @cal-daisies-and-briars | G | 13k 

Buck and Eddie's wedding but from Bobby's POV as Bobby reflects on the family he lost and the one he gained. Absolutely beautiful, I cried.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck | T | 14k

Chris wants dating advice so obviously Buck and Eddie decide to Fake Date for research purposes. This fic is PEAK adorable, sappy, and awkward Buddie. They’re idiots but we love them and the certainly love each other. READ THIS FIC! 

[queenshelby]

OSCAR SPECIAL (PART ONE OF FOUR)

Given Cillian’s recent success, I decided to jump ahead a little in my fics and give you a little Oscar Special. But don’t worry, I will cover off everything in between in due course and, for some fics, this Oscar part will hopefully get you guessing, while for others it will constitute a happy ending!

Our Dirty Little Secret (Special Part)

Nine months later…

"I don't know why I agreed to this," you told Cillian while clutching his hand just as the car pulled up in front of the red carpet. This was your first public outing with Cillian since the scandal about your illicit affair had broken just over nine months ago and whilst you had found your way together, society did not exactly approve of your somewhat controversial relationship with the 47-year-old. 

"It'll be fine. You need to trust me," he whispered in your ear confidently, as if it were just another date night for you and not the greatest gathering of Hollywood's glitterati. Deep down, you wanted to believe him but it was obvious to you that he had put on act, just for you, to calm your nerves.  He hated these events just as much as you did and knew how hard it was for you to adapt to this lifestyle with him.

"I should have stayed with Mara, Cillian. I never left her for so long, you know," you then tried to change the topic, talking about the daughter you had brought into this world together just under nine months ago, but Cillian simply chuckled. 

"Mara will be fine with my mum, at the hotel. I promise," Cillian assured you with a loving smile. "Despite, I really need you with me tonight," he paused, gently squeezing your hand. "I couldn't imagine being here without you, Y/N," he then finally told you as one of the red-carpet attendees opened the door for you both. 

"Don't you dare run off on me," you gasped, seeing all those intimidating photographers taking pictures of you both as he helped you out of the car, your white dress grazing the asphalt.

"I would never," he chuckled, playfully winking at you, as you bit back a smile, realizing that you were too easily flustered.

He then took your hand into his firmly, clearly showing the world that you belonged together and not a single soul would change that.

"Cillian, over here!" a reporter yelled out while, another, shorter woman with fiery hair, aggressively jumped in to get a good shot of you both. The molten sea of cameras around you ignited a varied assortment of insecurities you forgot you ever had. Suddenly, you were a ten-year-old girl again, your heart dancing under its master's feet set ablaze by judgement; but Cillian squeezed your hand gently, reminding you that you were a woman now—his woman.

A familiar warmth spread through your chest as his steely blue eyes fixated on yours. A silently brokered promise passed between you two: Survive this together.

The female reporter from earlier pushed her way to the front, locking her beady gaze onto Cillian with a voracious hunger.

"Cillian, how does it feel to be nominated as Best Actor for your performance in Oppenheimer?" she asked while you tried to back off a little, but Cillian would not leave you alone, holding you closer to him, showing the world that you both were together in this.

"It's a true honor to be nominated. I couldn't be more grateful. The cast, the crew, everyone really poured their hearts into the story, and I wouldn't be here without them. It was something unique and powerful," he responded, barely looking at the woman, but at you instead, trying to keep his focus.

"And I see you are being supported by your wonderful, young girlfriend tonight, making this your first public outing together. Is that right?" the reporter asked, curiosity sparking excitement in her voice as she studied you two intently. 

"Well, we do have a young child together, which makes it difficult for us to attend events like this as a couple," Cillian began to say while smiling at you intently. "But, especially tonight, I couldn't ask for more than her presence," he admitted, his voice dripping with sincerity as he gazed at you openly.

The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter: It was a look that held secrets, a silent vow. You squeezed his hand tighter now and were unable to keep the smile from growing on your lips.

Cillian then stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, causing you to disconnect from the chaotic dance unfolding before your eyes and connect to the feeling of being near him, a feeling that cantered and calmed you.

"Thank you Cillian, and good luck tonight," the reporter finally offered a soft smile before signalling to her photographer to take some more pictures. 

As you walked down the red carpet, a familiar pop song began to infiltrate your eardrums as you ignored the snippets of questions being hurled at both of you, creating a barrier between your world and theirs. Even with the nest of hundreds of reporters and photographers, the red carpet no longer scared you as it used to, especially when you had Cillian by your side, shielding you from the worst of it all.

Eventually, you both reached your seats, not too far from the front of the stage and Cillian introduced you to some of the actors and actresses he had worked with. You also met some familiar faces, like Emily Blunt and her husband John who both had a calming presence about themselves. 

The tension seemed to melt away as you chatted with them and, for a moment, you managed to forget all the critical eyes resting on you, fading into the background until it was time to be quiet for the opening speech.

As the ceremony commenced, you merely held hands with Cillian, giving his reassurance every time he gave yours. Despite the constant whispers and sly glances coming your way, you tried to embody Cillian's mantra, staying present in this moment and focusing on his unwavering companionship instead of the judgement weighing you down. For hours on end, you managed to simply enjoy the show and, when finally, it was his turn to shine, you clutched his hand even tighter. 

"And the Oscar goes to," the presenter announced, opening the golden envelope while, secretly you had been crossing your fingers for him all week long. "Cillian Murphy!" he then announced, making a-thousand-cameras flash simultaneously as your heart began to race uncontrollably against your ribcage. It was a strange feeling, this overwhelming sense of pride that flooded you, leaving you bruised and raw from the exposure.

Standing up simultaneously with Cillian, a big smile formed on your face as, quickly you caressed his face. "You did it!" you whispered to Cillian, hugging him almost desperately as he embraced you back, tightly. He then kissed the top of your head, taking a moment to soak in the gravity of his achievement as the crowd around cheered and clapped for him.

"Fuck," he gasped, still in shock, before stagehands began urging him to come forward and take his spot to accept the coveted award.

"Go on and give your speech," you chuckled, gently pushing him towards the stage while blinking away the tears threatening to mess up your makeup and, just before he took to the stage, he turned his head quickly to capture your lips for a fleeting second, leaving an imprint of adoration behind.

With shaking hands, he mounted the steps, greeted by rousing applause, and you leaned against the back of your chair, watching his every move as he accepted his award. 

"Fuck," was the first word that escaped his lips, causing the audience to laugh in response and his actor's instinct kicked in as he used his impromptu curse to deliver an exquisite speech that brought a tear to your eye. 

"I am clearly overwhelmed by all this. Thank you. Truly," he spoke, his voice shaky. "I first and foremost want to thank Chris Nolan and Emma Thomas for having faith in me and creating such a masterpiece. To the incredible cast, Robert, Emily, and the rest, thank you for teaching me so much about the craft. I can't believe I get to share a title with such incredible artists," Cillian said before his eyes drifted in your direction, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And, of course, I want to thank my beautiful partner Y/N for supporting me through this in those last few months. You have pretty much been a single mother in the midst of award season, and I am so grateful that you are here with me tonight. To you, our daughter Mara and my son Max, I love you beyond words," Cillian said, his voice heavy with emotion, and it was then that your vision blurred with unshed tears.

He then proudly lifted his award into the air before humbly walking back to his seat, stealing a glance at you long enough to let you know exactly what he meant. 

"I am so proud of you," you whispered as he squeezed your hand again while, around you, murmurs originated from fellow celebrities congratulating him on his well-deserved win.

"This means a lot to me Y/N. Thank you for having been my rock those past few months," Cillian whispered back, his gratitude evident in the warmth of his touch. The intensity of his words caused your heart to flutter unexpectedly and, suddenly, everything around you became distant and muted.

Not too keen to attend the after party even following his success, when the show drew to an end, Cillian engaged in the necessary press engagements before suggesting that the two of you slipped away before everyone made their way to Vanity Fair. 

Together, you crept out into the night unnoticed, weaving your way through indulging crowds, gazing at each other, lost in all the nuances of the day that had unfolded—all the stolen glances between you both during the award ceremony, to the brush of his fingertips against your hand while trying to lead you through the venous crowds.

Eventually then, you arrived back at the hotel where Cillian's mother was watching Mara. She was already eagerly waiting your arrival and, as soon as Cillian walked through the door with the golden statute in his hand, his mother embraced him tightly. 

"I am so incredibly proud of you," she beamed while gripping his face, hardly believing her eyes. "Now you've got it all, a beautiful family and the biggest achievement of your career," she remarked, wiping a tear from her eye while looking at you and Mara.

"Thank you mum, and thank you for looking after Mara for us tonight," Cillian expressed graciously, managing a weak smile as he hugged her again.

Mara then squealed with delight, screaming, "Dada!" and you both looked at each other with great surprise.

"Did she just say daddy?" you gasped. You couldn't help but be utterly taken aback, finding yourself at a loss for words as you clutched Mara in your arms and buried your face in the nape of her neck.

It was the first time she had spoken and as you held her tightly, you couldn't help but feel a surge of love that coursed through your veins, rendering you dizzy.

You glanced up at Cillian as he stood there, flabbergasted.

"Dada!" she said again, reaching out for the golden statute jutting out from Cillian's grasp. He chuckled and carefully placed it away before picking Mara up and pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek.

"Hello Babygirl," he said, laughter dancing in his eyes, and the love in that moment was palpable between them, radiating with a warmth that touched your heart. "I missed you," he then said and your eyes welled up a little. It was moments like this that made you rethink the decisions you made several months ago and you knew that it was time for you to make another now. 

"I think maybe it is time for us to move in together now," you proposed to Cillian suddenly, as he looked at you with a gentle smile.

"It seems like two wins for me tonight then," he replied, taking your hand in his as Mara gurgled contentedly between you. He had waited for you to make this call for months now, ever since he first proposed it to you and now it was finally here.

To be continued...

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[stsgluver]

I'M HERE – gojo satoru

synopsis. reluctantly, you agree to a new life with two children and your ex. PART TWO OF FOUR.

wc. 3.4k

tags. angst, swearing, happy ending-ish, spoilers for s2

“get out.”

satoru flinches at the coldness in your tone, and you want to scoff. as if though he gets to be the one who’s hurt right now. your hands ache and your head feels like it’s imploding as you struggle to take in everything he says. it’s too much, too important, too soon.

a year has passed but you’ve barely had the chance to accept how cruel he’d been when he pushed you away, like you had meant nothing. like you hadn’t spent almost three years side-by-side, majority of that as his girl. 

gojo satoru is someone who always got what he wants – and he got you. he had all of you: mind, body, and soul… but that wasn’t enough for him. you weren’t enough for him. 

“yn–” again, he tries reaching for you and, again, you reject the advancement, standing up abruptly to ensure you can keep the space between the two of you. you swallow thickly and point towards your half open door. gojo’s eyes don’t follow the direction of your hand, instead staying intently on your face as he indulges himself in his favourite picture, even if that picture is stained with damp streaks.

“get out,” you repeat slowly. he needs to leave you in peace again – or whatever peace you’d come to accept after his sudden departure from your orbit. as much as you hate him, your body and mind is still intuitive with his. it feels wrong to watch him cry and not try and comfort him, and from his actions and the way his hands remain stiff at his sides, fidgeting with the material of his pants, you know he feels the same.

after all he just confessed his love for you, you’re aware of how he feels. but you don’t know what he’s thinking and that terrifies you.

“please.” he is begging, the strongest sorcerer alive is pleading for you, but you’re not sure what he expects you to say. i love you? let’s get back together? yes, i’ll totally take care of that monster’s children with you? i’m totally fine even though my best friend decided to murder a tonne of people and then you broke up with me and then i spent 12 months trying not to die on insane missions that i was sent on because the higher ups hate me and i don’t have you as a buffer anymore?

you scoff, arms crossing in front of as you roll your eyes at his ignorance to your suffering, “gojo satoru, i swear to go–”

“woah, woah, what’s going on in here?” 

your eyes dart to the door and you have never been so happy to hear the voice of your dear friend, shoko ieiri. in one hand is her usual unlit cigarette (she swears she’s quitting for real this time, she just needs the comfort of one in her hand), and in the other is her phone. you assume she must’ve been distracted by a call and that’s why he was able to come into the room and not her.

since satoru had put up this wall between the two of you, shoko had been your shoulder to lean on and you know she wouldn’t have just let him waltz in without her support. you thought he was your person, and shoko had watched as you fell apart alone and without him.

you don’t want to know what you look like if it’s anywhere close to how horrible you feel right now. your heart aches and every stitch you had made to patch back together your heart are slowly coming loose. there’s probably mascara running down your cheeks by this point and you’re thirty more seconds of being in satoru’s presence from breaking down into full on sobs as you relive the loss of him and geto.

shoko, your saviour and rock for the past twelve months, comes to your rescue. “what are you going here?” she asks in an accusatory tone towards satoru, head tilted with a raised brow. it hadn’t just been you that satoru had pushed away twelve months ago – it had been everyone. but you know that shoko has still managed to maintain some relationship with him, and from the way his shoulder deflates, he’s smart enough to not burn that bridge too.

“leaving,” satoru responds curtly, brushing past shoko as he makes his swift exit. well, his infinity brushes past shoko and she flips his back the middle finger as she’s gently pushed aside by the invisible force.

you drop down onto your back on your empty bed, both hands covering your face as you try to relax your heartbeat again that runs high wire. you’d be lying if you said you don’t miss satoru; miss seeing him in your room after a long mission or long day of lessons; miss waking up to his raspy voice as he pokes you in the side to wake you up for class; miss being loved by him.

“i thought he was still giving you the silent treatment.”

peeking between your fingers, you glance over to shoko who’s flicking through your open boxes full of your life of the last four years. “i wish he still was,” you admit, voice a little more stable now that you’re not in the middle of crying. the tears have stopped but your cheeks are still flushed red. “has he really taken in fushiguro’s kids?” 

“one’s his, the other is his step daughter,” shoko responds, as though that is common knowledge.

you frown, sitting back up, hands in your lap. “you knew then?” shoko pauses her snooping but doesn’t look back at you. if there’s one thing you and satoru still have in common, is lashing out when you’re upset. ironic given how much you hate him for it. 

“he has… changed. y’know, since geto,” shoko clarifies. the name itself makes you bite down on your tongue and the never ending ache you’re enduring reminds you why you need to leave this place.

“no shit,” you bite back and shoko gives you a blank look. “i’m sorry.” she’d been with you every night for the first month following the break up, she is the reason you are still alive following your sudden increase in mission difficulty. she had been the first to talk shit about satoru or throw random objects at him and just hope his infinity just so happened not to be active (it always was).

“don’t apologise, say whatever you want to me,” shoko shrugs, offering you a sad smile, “i’ll never leave.” three simple words that hold more meaning than you could’ve ever comprehended twelve months ago.

“thank you, love you always.” the two of you share a brief hug (shoko’s never been one for overtly physical affection). 

“good,” shoko pulls back first, checking her phone before waving it in your face. there’s a message but you can’t make it out as she shakes the screen, “now more importantly, are you ready to go? nanami said that he wants to take the next train into the city.”

“can you just give me a minute?” you gesture to the last boxes that you needed to close up – the school had been kind enough to sort out the removal of your belongings (shocker) so all you need to do is just get to the airport and make your plane. 

“of course,” shoko nods understandingly. the split in your class had only led to the two of you coming closer. blood aside, she is and would always be your sister. you know she isn’t happy that you’re quitting sorcery but she knows she can’t keep you happy here, so she’s kept her complaints to herself. 

there’s a soft click as your door closes and you breathe out a sigh of relief. satoru’s words still sit at the back of your mind (‘i love you, i’ve got two kids’ – like what?!), and then you flinch as you remember the wounds that have only just healed on your arm – one of which being a large gash that would’ve killed you had you not been so close to the school when you’d been caught off guard by the curse. this world isn’t for you. 

maybe in another life, one where geto never left the school and satoru never left you, but that is not this life.

grabbing your tape, you go to close the box that shoko had been flicking through when the flash of a familiar photo catches your eye. you hesitate but ultimately that feeling of home consumes you and you can’t stop yourself from lifting the frame from the box. 

it’s you and satoru and geto and shoko and nanami and even haibara.

you remember when the photo was taken: the middle of summer in your second year. satoru and geto had forgone their uniform jackets, the former having one arm around the latter and the other around you. shoko is next to geto and the two second years follow after them. she’s wearing satoru’s glasses as she often did steal them. you’re all smiling – even nanami – and you can’t stop yourself from mirroring the same expression.

those were better times, one where the responsibility and stress of being a sorcerer was only a whispered warning. within a short period that would all fall apart. your teenage years cut short and your innocences stolen following fushiguro toji’s attack.

fushiguro…

you think of his children, the life they will never be able to have because of the thing they are associated with, and the power they've inherited. the children that your ex boyfriend has oh so generously taken in. 

it’s still ingrained in your mind; the sound of geto’s voice over the phone as he struggled to breathe, let alone speak. riko is dead, satoru is dead. that’s all he could repeat over, and over, and over, again. it had been shoko he’d called put you’d been there as she put it on speaker. if it weren’t for nanami being beside you you would’ve collapsed to your knees as you refused to accept what he was saying.

the next few hours were a blur, shoko saving geto, geto going to retrieve satoru, satoru being alive… 

he changed after that. it wasn’t overly apparent, not just to anyone, but you were his girlfriend. he’d reached a state of ‘enlightenment’, as he called it, his cursed technique now far superior to any other sorcerer alive (not that it wasn’t already).

the seven of you never deserved what happened to you – haibara especially never deserved to have his life cut short and the more you remember, the more you decide these children don’t deserve that either.

you bite down on your lip as you realise the conclusion that you’re beginning to come to. one that you’re not 100% sure you won’t regret in the coming months. 

to nanami: i’m sorry i’m not going to make it on the train

from nanami: don’t worry, shoko already let me know you’d probably changed your mind

from nanami: stay safe x

you smile down at your phone. nanami is the closest you’ll ever get to a little brother and even if you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, you’re glad he’s escaping this hell.

to unknown: meet me at the old park.

from unknown: what about your plane?

to unknown: 2pm

it’s for those kids, you remind yourself, not for him.

despite being the one to choose the meeting location and time, you’re late and you’re already almost in tears yet again. the park was a regular for you, satoru, geto and shoko as teens. shoko and geto would climb up onto the roof of the public bathrooms to smoke whilst satoru made you push his lanky frame on the big swings. those nights practically always ended at dawn, and no matter how sneaky the four of you thought you were, yaga always caught you sneaking back onto the school campus.

things were so much simpler and you were so happy. a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions your experiencing now.

you’d chosen the park to give yourself an advantage, to remind satoru of the memories he could only remember and never relive. it was his fault he’d lost that…

…though even as you think that you know that you’re putting him at too much fault. everything was lost the second geto chose to make the first kill. none of you could’ve stopped that.

shaking your head and brushing your hands down the front of your clothes to brush off the invisible dust and compose yourself, your eyes scan the park for a white haired beanpole and two children. 

it’s not difficult to find the children as the boy – megumi, you think shoko said (she’d given you a quick debrief of what satoru had told her about the children over the phone on your walk there) – is a mini version of his dad. a shudder ran down your spine involuntarily the instant your eye caught sight of the spiky-haired boy. you try to push away the unease; it’s likely megumi barely even knows or remembers his dad, or at least you hope for his sake he doesn’t. either way it’s not far for you to cast judgement yet. the sister is close behind him, running circles around a slide four times their heights.

satoru is sitting on a bench, his gaze focused on the two small children. well, you assume so since that's the way his head is turned. he’s wearing his usual black glasses and tokyo uniform. to any outsider, he looks bored, like an older brother forced to take care of his siblings as his long limbs lounge on the bench. but you know better – his knee is bouncing and he keeps running one hand through his white hair, revealing an undercut beneath it. he’s just as stressed as you are. 

good, as he should be.

he knows you're there. he’s a special grade sorcerer after all, probably the most powerful of them all, he must’ve sensed your cursed energy the second you came within a mile of this place. still, he doesn’t turn his head, even as you walk down the path to him. 

though somewhere deep down you still long for him and what you had, every step closer you feel the same anger and resentment towards him bubbling up and threatening to spill over the surface. meeting him in a public area with impressionable children’s ears around is definitely not your finest idea. you’re within several yards from him now and you’re really starting to think this is a bad idea. 

satoru is a bad idea.

sitting gingerly on the edge of the bench next to him, you pick quietly at the skin around your nails. neither of you speak for several minutes. satoru still seems too afraid to even acknowledge that you’re there. he’s woken up too many times from a dream with you in his arms to an empty bed that he lay in alone, no trace of your perfume on the other side of the bed anymore.

the tension between you two is thick and palpable. 

“they’re cute kids.” you’re the one to break the silence as the two of them begin climbing a spider web apparatus. satoru hums in agreement and his knee slowly halts its bouncing. 

there’s two beats before you let your frustration spill over the edge. “you’re a dick you know that?” so much for your concern about doing this in this locatiom.

satoru’s mouth slacks a little, and he begins to utter something but you shake your head at him to cut him off.

“that was rhetorical. there’s no defending or denying that. it’s fact,” you laugh dryly, crossing your arms in front of yourself as you watch on at the park. in the corner of your eyes, you can see satoru slip off his glasses revealing his own cerulean eyes to you. you avoid them though, if you are going to stay and make this work you need to get all of this off your chest. and preferably without balling your eyes out again. 

“i cried a lot at first,” you continue, “blamed myself for suguru turning away,” he winces and does so again when you cement that point, “blamed myself for taking your best friend from you. i started having those nightmares of haibara calling me a murderer again.” he knows every word you say is true – he caused the former and he would be the one you’d come to when the latter had first started. it breaks his heart to be reminded of the agony he caused you – how he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces from the damage he caused.

following haibara’s death, there were some nights neither of you would get any sleep. you were afraid of what you’d see when you closed your eyes and satoru was afraid of losing you. so he would stay up with you, more often than not sitting against the backboard of the bed, your body curled up tightly against his as you watched funny compilations on his phone (he thought they were hilarious, you just wanted to hear his laugh). for satoru to throw that back in your face after geto’s defection tarnished any comfort you’d ever associated with him. 

it didn’t matter that he’d carved a permanent spot in your heart, the idea of letting him in that close again sends shudders down your spine. he had you in the palm of his hands and he destroyed you.

you take a deep breath and dare to glance over at satoru. his expression is blank but his eyes scream how he feels, the swirls of blue glassy as you relay all that he put you through. 

he had been aware of the hurt he’d caused you – of course he had, he felt it too – seen it on your face when you’d pass him in the hallways. you lacked enthusiasm in class and often went on missions alone without complaint (something you never previously did because how dare the higher-ups send you on a job hours away without anyone to talk to).

“and then i nearly died.” satoru’s brows furrow at this, he’d still kept tabs on you to a certain extent. so how had this slipped through the cracks? “two grade one curses among other nuisances,” you hum, “i shouldn’t have been there alone… but i wasn’t surprised the higher ups had sent me.” there’s something else missing there, how you would’ve never been sent on such a mission of satoru was still with you. the higher ups hated the power you held over their special grade, but they weren’t stupid enough to put you in significant harm’s way when you were together. 

“i’m sor–”

“gojo! can we get some ice cream?” tsumiki runs up to the two of you, cutting off his futile attempt at an apology. her little cheeks are flushed red from the exercise and megumi pokes his head out from behind her, eyes zeroed in on you. 

“who are you?” 

you flicker your gaze between satoru and the children who are awaiting your answer. for once, the white-haired sorcerer is at a loss for words. you want to scoff. 

standing up, you offer a small smile, “just a friend.” you point to the ice cream parlour on the opposite side of the park and nudge satoru’s shoulder gently, “go treat them to ice cream. we can talk about the logistics of this later.”

“this?” he repeats, sitting up straight, and a flash of hope dashes across his features. “so you’re staying?” 

tsumiki’s eyes are bright and full of excitement at the prospect of a treat and it reminds you of haibara. you blink harshly and quickly as you try not to let a tear slip past.

“they deserve better than what we had.” what you had.

series masterlist

a/n. next part will defo be the longest part!! expect fluff, angst, some spice, the whole SHEBANG. I have mocks coming up soon but I'm hoping the next instalment will be up in the next 3-4 weeks. thank you all for being so patient and I hope this meets expectations &lt;3

also a massive thank you to @bontensh0e because they massively helped with the inspo for the rest of the series. ly loads <333

taglist. @sanokiss. @dummyf. @erenssin. @makiuchiha97. @sosoa. @cole-silas. @fenrysashryver. @istanuwow. @dovahkiinsbitch. @mor-pheus. @creolequeen11210. @thefictionalcharacterssimp. @mariapierce789. @cynopcis.

[luizd3ad]

Happy Birthday? | Poly!Moonwaterkiller x Fem!Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black x Barty Crouch Jr x F!Reader WC: 3,163 CW: swearing, teasing type of relationship, mostly fluff, slight angst at the end, slight talks of Regulus’s childhood, no use of Y/N Author's Note: This ship is inspired by @ellecdc please send her love. She's so talented and is just straight up amazing. Also I'm still new to writing so I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's not good/doesn't make sense.

Summary: It’s regulus birthday so you, Remus and Barty want to make it special but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

I made this ig mood board inspired by the guy idk ive never made one before

˙‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆

“Bartemius Crouch junior! I swear to all that is holy in this world! If you stick your grubby hands in the frosting one more bloody time!”

“Oh come on Lupin! You can’t blame me, it's just so fucking good!"

Barty yelled, waving his hands around trying to defend himself.

You couldn't help but laugh at hearing two of your boyfriends’ bicker while you put the chicken you just got done seasoning into the oven to cook. 

Admittedly it was quite entertaining and it helped distract you a bit from stressing over the cooking that still needed to be done and the small decorations that needed to be put up for today.

It was Regulus's birthday, so you and Remus had gotten Sirius to take Regulus out for the day so you and your partners could try and surprise him with a birthday dinner for just the four of you. 

You couldn't help but stress seeing as he should be home sooner than later at this point, and you wanted everything to be as perfect as possible since Regulus wasn't completely comfortable with celebrating his birthday still. 

He didn't find the idea of a party and things of that nature to be fun, he found it more stressful and anxiety inducing than anything. (due to his childhood)

So the three of you have always tried to do a little something to make it special for him and to show Regulus that you all love him but never anything too much as to avoid overwhelming or making him uncomfortable. 

“Barty, my love, how about you go and set up the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner?”

“Anything for you angel.”

Barty says with a look that he reserved for only you. 

It was love sick looks. The kind of look that could show the receiver every emotion the other person was feeling. It showed that you were loved by that person with their whole heart. The type of look that had both parties feeling vulnerable in the best way possible.

Even before you all had started dating, when you all were just friends in your earlier years at Hogwarts, he had always looked at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

He'd look at you as if you were the only good thing left in this world, and to him you were one of the only good things left in this world.

You and two other people that he held closer to his heart than he'd probably be willing to admit most days. 

Though that didn’t mean Barty didn't love Remus and Regulus.

It also didn't mean it was a secret of how much Barty loved Remus and Regulus. In fact he loved them with all his heart. He expressed how much he loved them somewhat often in his own ways.

Especially since he could be known for his flair of the dramatics at times, he had expressed many times that he loved the three of you more than anything. 

Not that anyone could deny, or question it. More like no one would dare to deny or question it. 

Barty has expressed many times how he'd burn down cities, commit unspeakable acts and take on any unforgivable in a heartbeat for Regulus and Remus.

The love Barty held for them two was the kind of love that was teasing and could be chaotic in the best way. 

The type of love that could only be described as a ‘I can pick on them but you can't pick on them because they're mine’ in the most loving way Barty could possibly manage. And may the gods help any poor soul that ever tried to mess with someone who he deemed as his. 

But the love he had for you was a softer kind of love, it was sweet. The kind of love full of things like love sick looks, soft touches, sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

Along with the promises of burning down cities, committing unspeakable acts and taking on unforgivables’, who would expect anything less from Barty?  But I digress.

“Yes please, piss off for fucks sake.”

Remus says in an exasperated tone waving Barty away. Barty then gasps dramatically and clenches his shirt as if he was clutching his ‘pearls’. 

“You don't mean that, Remmy.” Barty all but whined. 

“Plus you couldnt get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

Barty states sending a smirk and wink at Remus, which Remus just responds with by rolling his eyes and hitting Barty with a dish towel playfully to distract Barty from the light blush that's undoubtedly spread across Remus’s face, as to avoid being teased further by him.

“Barty’s right Rem. Even if we wanted to, we're stuck with him, unfortunately.”

You say with a sarcastic little sigh while trying to suppress a smile that threatened to form due to the two men playful arguing. 

Barty then gasps dramatically once more and puts his hand over his heart as if you just stabbed him in the heart as Remus snicker at Bartys reaction and to your comment. 

“Not you as well, angel. You should know that words hurt. You've wounded me, you've basically killed me.”

Barty then pretends to sob as you and Remus shake your heads with smiles on your faces due to his behavior.

“Gods you’ve been spending way too much damn time around Sirius.”

Remus says while rubbing his hands over his face trying to hide his smile. You chuckle and walk up to Barty and give him a hug giving him your best ‘I'm sorry’ look. 

“I’m sorry Barty, I just couldn't help it. Remus has influenced me far too much.. Blame him.”

You say in fake sincerity with a small nod as you hear Remus huff at your comment.

Barty lets out a chuckle and hugs you back with a smile on his face looking down at you as he holds you. 

“It's okay angel, I could never stay upset at you. Lupin on the other hand..”

Barty drags out the end of his sentence with a small smirk on his face as Remus scoffs dramatically at his lovers’ statements.

“Really love? It's my fault is it?”

Remus says with his head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue saying that he should be the one to blame for your ‘cruel’ comment to Barty. 

“Actually Lupin,  I think it is your fault.” Barty stated apparently agreeing with you.

“And what has brought you to that conclusion Junior?” 

Remus says as he walks toward the both of you with a small smirk on his face.

“My angel was just that, an angel. That was until you lot got your Gryffindor hands all over her.”

Barty says with a small shrug, feeling as if his point was valid and made sense. You supposed for Barty it did.

“Is that a fact?” Remus asked while getting closer to you and Barty.

“Yeah, Lupin it is actually.”  Barty says, giving Remus a somewhat challenging look.

“You don't seem to complain when I have my Gryffindor hands all over you, Junior.” 

Remus then winks at a now blushing and flustered Barty. You then cover your mouth trying to hide your own blush while also trying to suppress a giggle.

Barty tries to say some kind of come back and it  just results in him stuttering.

“W-well I- Goddamnit! That’s not fair Lupin!”

“All's fair in love and war Junior.”

Remus says sending another wink at Barty and smirking at you while Barty stares at him with wide eyes in complete silence.

He had managed to make Barty Crouch Jr speechless.

That was actually one of the many things that Remus was good at, especially at the beginning when everything was still new and more unexpected. 

When the four of you were in that space where you weren't officially dating but it was clear to you and everyone who'd been around your little group that you four had very strong feelings for each other.

It had taken Remus no time at all to get comfortable with having at least one of you flustered almost all the time, usually to the point of stuttering or speechlessness. 

He loved seeing you three like that.

Especially Barty.

Barty wasn't someone you could easily make blush let alone actually fluster, especially with just words so whenever Remus would manage to make Barty speechless he felt like he won a reward. 

Barty would never admit it but it was clear as day that Remus was good at making him a flustered stuttering mess. 

And Barty hated it.

“Now love. I believe someone owes someone an apology for trying to place blame.”

Remus says, walking up to you now at arms length and giving you a pointed look now waiting for an apology. 

While Barty mutters a ‘fucking hell’ under his breath and runs his hand through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen counter still mumbling quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry moony. Truly. Do you forgive me?” You say somewhat sincerely knowing Remus doesn't really care all that much. 

“I could never stay mad at you, love.”

Remus says with a small smile he then cups your cheek and gives you a kiss on your forehead, you lean into Remus's kiss taking in the moment and enjoying the affection from your boyfriend.

When suddenly you and Remus feel a cold, grainy substance rain down on you, which you both quickly realize is flour once the shock wore off.

You then hear a familiar giggle, and turn to see none other than a proud looking Barty standing now several feet away, covered in white powder himself. He just stands there proud of himself as if he didn't just cover you both in flour.

As you stare at him wide eyed and mouth a gasp, he just gives you a cheeky little smile.

“You did not just do that Junior.”

“Oh but I think I did, Remmy. That's what you get for teasing and being mean to me.”

Barty then sends a little wink to you and a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Sorry angel. Collateral damage, you understand.”

Barty says with a small shrug and a tone that makes it seem like it's the most reasonable thing that he has ever done.

You simply nod with the most convincing smile you could possibly muster in that moment.

“Of course my love. I understand.”

You say walking near Barty and grabbing a bowl that's filled with whipped cream that you had made earlier. You then walk closer to Barty and with a smile on your face.

“And you'll understand when I do this.”

You say while grabbing a handful of whipped cream and throwing it at Barty just for him to duck in time ending with the cream hitting Remus in the face. You gasp and cover your mouth trying not to laugh as Barty busts out laughing.

“Oh shit Rem! I'm so sorry.”

You say trying hard and failing to suppress your laughter, while Remus wipes his eyes off with his hands.

“It's okay love. All’s forgiven. Just come and give me a kiss.”

“Ummm I would love to, honestly I would… After you clean your face, that is…”

You back away from a now smiling remus while he opens his arms for you and starts walking closer to you. 

“No, now would be fine for me.”

Remus proceeds to walk closer to you as you start to back away towards Barty who's starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Why not kiss Barty?! This is all because of him anyway!”

Barty then gasps.

“Angel! I can't believe you'd throw me under the bus like that… Is it bad that I liked it?”

Barty asks the last part more to himself than to anyone else. He was so caught up in his thoughts for a second that he didn't notice you now using him as a human shield, that was until he felt a clump of whipping cream on his head and looked to see a smirking Remus. 

“Oh. This means war.”

All of a sudden it was every person for themselves. The kitchen was now a war zone. Flour, whipped cream, sugar, powdered sugar, fruits and berries were being thrown all over the place. It was pure chaos. 

The Three you were making a mess out of the kitchen and even bigger messes of yourselves.

Next thing you, you’ve been thrown over Remus’s shoulder while Barty is chasing Remus around the kitchen. 

There’s so much going on, so much laughing and screaming that no one heard the door open. Which meant no one heard Regulus make his way to the kitchen, and so no one noticed him standing in the doorway till you heard him speak.

“I leave you alone for a few hours and suddenly the kitchen explodes?”

Regulus in all his stoic glory just stood there not even looking a little surprised.

All three of you stopped running around, suddenly feeling like kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Then all three of you look at eachother then at Regulus.

“Happy Birthday?” You, Remus and Barty said accidentally making it sound more like a question than in an enthusiastic way.

Regulus just points at the oven says.

“The ovens smoking.”

“Oh shit! The chicken!”

You yell as Remus puts you down and he rushes to the oven to take out the now burnt chicken as smoke fills the kitchen.

“Sooo… Chinese?” Said a very uncertain Barty  

After opening some windows, having the Chinese food delivered, a few showers and quite a few cleaning spells the four of you ended up on the couch with a movie on not many words being exchanged.

After the movie was finished and the food had all been mostly finished Remus had brought out the cake that he managed to finish decorating while waiting for the food to arrive.

The three of you had sung (or in Bartys case basically screamed) Happy birthday to Regulus while he sat there with a ghost of a smile on his face. After another hour or so the four of you found yourselves in your shared bed.

You couldn't help but feel guilty since Regulus hadn't really expressed any emotion which wasn’t necessarily not normal about his birthday. You felt like maybe you had upset him in some way, maybe you over stepped or maybe he was irritated due to the mess you Remus and Barty made. 

You were spiraling. 

Till you heard a whisper.

“Thank you..” 

It was quiet for a few seconds, you supposed no one really knew what to say.

“For what Black? I feel like we kinda ruined your birthday.” Said a almost half asleep Barty

“It wasn't ruined Junior! It just didn't go.. as planned..'' defend Remus who laid on the other side of you. 

You and Regulus laid in the middle of Barty and Remus.

“Would the two of you stop bickering for just a moment please?” You say with a small shake of your head and a small chuckle. 

The next second there's a small choir of ‘Sorry angel’ and ‘Sorry love’.

“What are you thanking us for, Reggie?” 

You say pushing some of his black curly hair behind his ear looking at him softly, though he probably couldn't tell since it was dark in the room.

The only light coming through the window from the half moon.

“For today.. I know it didn't go how any of you planned or would have wanted it to go, but still. It was nice. I spent most of the day with my brother though he can be insufferable, loud and dramatic most of the time, it was still nice. And then to come home to the three people who mean everything to me laughing and having fun... That was the best part. I know I'm not the easiest when it comes to celebrating my birthday but, your three and Sirius have been the only people who have ever actually cared for my birthday. You've never treated it like how my parents did. Never used it as an excuse to have a big party full of people I didn't know or care about just so it seemed like we were better then them or make it seem like we were the perfect family, even though it was evident that we weren't. You've always made it about me and always respected what I'm comfortable with and well I appreciate that. So.. Thank you.. I love you.. All three of you..”

“We love you too Reg.” You say quietly, giving Regulus a soft kiss.

“Awwww did Regulus Black just say he loves me.” Barty practically squealed.

Barty then pulls Regulus into him so Regulus’s back is to Barty's front and then proceeds to messily kiss Regulus all over the side of his face while Regulus tries and fails to get away from him.

Remus then starts to laugh harder than you had seen in a while, almost falling off the bed as he hears the bickering between the two (mostly on Regulus' part) and sees the shadows of a struggling Regulus and a very determined Barty. 

You can't help but start to laugh almost as hard as Remus as you try and get the words out to have Barty let go of poor Regulus.

The night continues for only a few more moments it's filled with more laughing and eventually sleepy good night kisses and I love yous.

To say the four of you had an interesting relationship would be an understatement. It could be messy and chaotic, it could be a fucking headache sometimes. 

But there was love. There was always love. 

There were mornings where the four of you would wake up and just lay in bed happier than any of you thought you could ever be.

There were tender kisses and loving touches.

Dreams and promisses of the future.

There were smiles and laughing fits that would fuel you for the days when you felt like you couldn't even get out of bed.

Admittedly, it was a lot most of the time. 

There were screaming matches and arguing at its worst times but at its best times it was you and three people that you couldn't see your life without. Three people that made life easier most of the time. People who could make you laugh till you cried and that would hold you while you cried and fall apart.

This was a life that none of you ever thought you'd have the opportunity to have, and ever so often one of you would feel like you didn't deserve the life you had.

This was the kind of life that probably wouldn’t exist for you guys in different universes. But here, in this universe? This is the life you have and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

⋆‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Soulmatch™ — App-grade your love life!

(new picture bc this is the renjun i imagined in this)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: smut, humor, fluff, angst, strangers to enemies to lovers...?, non-idol!AU

characters: huang renjun, f!reader, best friend!jaemin, best friend!haechan, friend!chenle, renjun's parents

word count: 24.807 words (oh my god)

general warnings: mentions of cheating, men being dudes and dudes being bros, lack of communication, haechan is a milf hunter, trust issues, insecurities regarding relationships, hook ups, smoking, alcohol, mentions of vomit (nothing graphic or detailed, literally just the word), mentions of erectile dysfunction (???), emotional manipulation..? past na jaemin x reader, implied past huang renjun x wong yukhei / lucas, toxic masculinity, daddy issues, haechan and jaemin talk very vulgarly and do not know boundaries, mentions of virginity, crying, heartbreak, author makes use of their limited knowledge of tarot.

smut warnings: ...hate sex...?, unprotected sex (nuh-uh!), fingering and brief oral (f receiving), face-fucking, switch!renjun, switch!reader (?), pet names, a lot of imagining sex, brief choking, mentions of anal, creampie.

synopsis: Renjun is a hopeless romantic, his goal is to meet his perfect match by the end of the year, maybe even his soulmate. The perfect solution: an experiment for finding love through an app. Renjun doesn't care who it is, as long as they're a perfect match, he thinks. But then you show up...

a/n: i really love this so much. it's a bit different from what i usually do bc it has a real storyline! it's complicated (not really)! i really poured my heart and soul into this. i love renjun so much. argh! also, why do my endings always feel rushed???? help???

taglist: @she-is-dreaming @nctzennikki09 @babyjenono @noonaisreading

"Why the fuck do they need information on my favorite toys from ages five to ten?" Renjun groans, rubbing his temples before quickly grabbing ahold of his phone to facetime his mother. The ringing sound of his phone had always managed to annoy him, and he wonders whether there'd be a section in the forms where he could put that down.

Staring at himself on his screen, he fixes his brown hair. It had gotten quiet long over the past few weeks since his last haircut. Admittedly, he hasn't had the energy to leave the house, really, thankful for his freelancer job that allows him to work from the confines of his own four walls. Although, he'd thought about growing his hair out anyway.

Finally, his mother answers the phone.

"No, it's Renjun... No, turn the TV down! Down! Lower the volume," his mother shouts, not at him, but at what he could only assume is his father, judging by the Jackie Chan movie playing in the background, that after all these years, he can identify by the sounds only.

"Hello, Junnie," his mother finally addresses him, a gentle smile on her face, a harsh contrast to the annoyed frown she'd thrown at her husband earlier.

"Hey, mom," Renjun says, tapping on his own video so it would fill the screen instead of his mother's.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. Uh, listen. Do you remember which toys I liked when I was 5?" Renjun finally lets his hair fan over his forehead in peace, getting frustrated that it's not staying in the exact place he wants it to. He's only talking to his mother anyway. That woman'd wiped his ass a few years back, so why bother.

"What an odd question," she grins, briefly getting distracted by something happening behind her phone which she shoos away with her hand and a tight lipped frown that disappears as soon as he lays her eyes back on her son.

"I just need to know. It's really important."

"Okay, let me think. I believe you liked this one thing- this squishy" – her hand squishes the air in front of her phone – "what is it called?"

Renjun can hear his father's voice from behind the phone, "what? Plushie?"

"Yes! You had a plushie that you really liked!"

"A plushie..." Renjun mumbles, filling the letters into the field, "what color?"

"It was a cow."

"So black and white?"

"Those are the usual cow colors."

"Okay. And when I was six?"

"Honey, what do you need this for? Is it still this love calculator thing? You know I read that article about it online-" His mother raises her brows in concern.

"Yes, but I didn't want to say it, because-" Renjun's words get cut off by his father's obnoxiously loud voice as he yanks the phone from his mother's hands, his big head coming into view and Renjun has to immediately roll his eyes.

"That's nonsense, son, and you know it. Anyway, when will you come by again? I bought steak. You know no one can make steak like I do!"

"Yes, I know. I won't be able to make it any time soon, though." Renjun sighs, fingers fiddling with a loose string sneaking its way out of the couch cushion.

"What if I told you we had some fine wine?" – "Stop dragging our son into alcoholism," Renjun's mom finally wins the phone back, but Renjun can still hear his dad's laugh in the background.

Renjun huffs. "So? Year six?"

"Honey, I'm really not sure. You've had a fire truck phase, then enjoyed dinosaurs, then couldn't get enough of those collectable horses. You were a very diverse kid with so many different interests. I don't think you can categorize that or sort it into years. Just say that you liked all kinds of toys–"

"Even girls' toys!" His father laughs.

"Alright," Renjun sighs, pressing his lips tightly together before wishing his mother a good night and ending the call.

"All kinds of toys..." Renjun mutters to no one but himself as he types his answer into the box, shaking his head. He's been filling out these forms for days on end, and slowly he starts believing his parents' words that it's just nonsense.

But it is his only hope.

_____

"A what for what?" Donghyuck asks, mouth as full of burger as Renjun's own, hence why he couldn't understand him the first time. Renjun holds up his hand, chews aggressively, then swallows hard.

"An experiment for finding love," he explains a second time, and the crease in between Donghyuck's eyebrows only seems to be getting deeper with every word that leaves Renjun's lips.

"What the fuck is that?" Donghyuck asks (assumingely, Renjun still can't understand him over the huge bite of patty and bun inside of his mouth).

"You give a whole bunch of information about yourself to the scientists, and they use some software to find your ideal partner," Renjun explains briefly. There's a bit more to it than just that, but he doesn't want to overwhelm Donghyuck's brain while he's eating.

"Pff, okay?" Donghyuck says, a few crumbs of- whatever that had been only mere seconds ago flying out of his mouth and directly onto Renjun's forearm. The older contorts his face in utter disgust, shaking the sticky pieces of food off of his skin.

"You're a pig, Donghyuck," Renjun states, wiping the spot with his napkin because he can still feel Donghyuck's saliva on himself.

"I might be a pig, but at least I got game." Donghyuck finally swallows, grinning proudly with a small piece of lettuce stuck in between his teeth which Renjun has yet to decide telling him about after that insult.

"You don't have 'game'," Renjun spits, fingers motioning quotation marks, "you just have low standards. You'd fuck everything that bends over in front of you."

"That is not true!"

"Need I remind you of what happened with Chenle's mom?"

"She is a milf!" Donghyuck whines, letting his hands weakly fall down onto the table.

"Whatever." Renjun sighs. "Point is: I'm not lacking game, I just want to wait for the right person."

"Alright, two explanations, same outcome: your dick is dry as fuck," Donghyuck nods, pointing his fry at Renjun before he drags it through his vanilla milkshake and stuffs his mouth with it. Renjun presses his lips together, frowning slightly as he imagines the taste of that. "So when are you getting banged?"

"I don't want to get banged, Hyuck," Renjun answers, fingers coming up to rub at his temples. He knows he's lying, Donghyuck knows he's lying, so why did he lie? "There is more to it than sticking my dick up a hole."

"Just any hole? You didn't specify that it should be a pussy?" Donghyuck's eyes widen and he stops his motions. Renjun watches anxiously what a large amount of time Donghyuck's been holding a new fry into his milkshake for.

"I didn't. I don't care."

"You'd shag a dude?!" Donghyuck's shrill voice attracts the eyes of several people sitting around them.

"I don't know why you needed to let everybody know about that," Renjun say through gritted teeth, "but yes. I don't mind."

"I didn't know you were bi," Donghyuck finally sucks the fry into his mouth, then cleans his fingers with his tongue.

"I'm pan."

"Same thing."

Renjun opens his mouth to protest, but he's honestly a little drained to dispute with Donghyuck right now. Wow, what has he become...

"So, when are you finding real love, then?" Donghyuck tries again, empathically sensing that he just scratched at Renjun's teasing-limits and should therefore tone it down a little before he loses a friend.

"I finished filling out the forms a couple of days ago. They have to analyze it and then find someone in their data base. I'm not sure how long it's going to take," Renjun explains, losing a tad of hope with every word at the realization. It's probably going to take forever.

"Okay, then what do you say: one last time going out on pussy hunt with the boys?"

_____

Renjun realizes that this is not one of his proudest moments as he stands leaned against the bar. On the outside, he might look cool and relaxed (or at least that's what he strives for), but he's honestly close to being shit-faced and needs the bar for not losing his balance. Admittedly, it's been some time since Renjun's last time out and he's been a bit nervous.

"This is great, huh?" Chenle says next to him, cool as ever as he leans his back against the bar, keeping his balance with only his forearms. Renjun envies him.

"Totally," Renjun retorts sarcastically, but Chenle doesn't seem to pick up on it.

His other friends had already abandoned him, always with a dirty grin as they got dragged away by a pretty girl. Renjun just can't get behind this whole thing of hook-up culture. Why would you want that when you could- never mind, Renjun understands why people hook up. He really shouldn't judge other people when he's the one who signed up for a love experiment.

"So I heard this is going to be your last time going out with us?" Chenle asks, then takes a sip from his beer bottle. Renjun likes hanging out with Chenle, but the younger's busy schedule doesn't offer much time for friend activities. Chenle is generally laid back and doesn't judge others. Well, not really, he just likes to tease, but generally speaking, he is a good person to open up to.

"Yeah," Renjun answers shortly, not in the right state for a long conversation.

"Because of that love app?" Chenle asks, and Renjun briefly looks over at him to see a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," Renjun repeats in defeat.

"I think it's cool," Chenle says, corners of his mouth turning downwards making him look impressed, but Renjun doesn't seem convinced. "You know, real love. It's rare these days, I think it's admirable. Really."

"Thank you," Renjun says, a gentle smile on his lips. "Hyuck's been teasing me a lot for it, but I just.. don't like this hook-up culture. I want to settle down."

"I get you, man." Chenle nods, clinking his beer bottle with Renjun's glass that contains the last few drops of a cocktail, then empties his bottle. As if on command, a girl leans against the bar next to him, whispers something into his ear while tugging at his sleeve. A grin forms on Chenle's face before he turns to Renjun.

"Sorry, gotta go. She says she needs Daddy." Chenle winks at Renjun who gives him a combination of a genuine chuckle and an awkward smile in return, then waves at Chenle's figure getting dragged towards the restrooms.

Renjun sighs, then his eyes scan the crowd. It's stuffy, the fog machine on a too high setting making it hard to even make out faces. It also feels hot, no wonder considering the amount of bodies dancing and sweating to the sound of the music, and the entire atmosphere feels too uncomfortable to find someone he could- sleep with. All of his friends are gone anyway, there's no way they could check if he got with someone or not. Sighing once again in defeat, Renjun decides to call it a night. He steadies himself, then tumbles over to the door, pushing it open to be hit by cool air. He immediately feels like he's drank 2 glasses of alcohol less than he actually did.

"Cigarette?"

_____

"This is not something I want to brag about," Renjun says the noon after, his butt placed on a chair in Donghyuck and Jaemin's man cave. It's actually just their shared home, but judging by the looks and smell of it, Renjun cannot not call it a man cave.

"Couldn't get it up?" Jaemin asks, an understanding nod moving his head. The younger looks messed up, respectfully, his hair tousled and eyes still not completely adjusted to being awake, the size of the cup of coffee in his hands an indicator of how he's feeling right now. Donghyuck really doesn't look any better, his body leaned over the table with his forearms supporting his weight.

"What? No!" Renjun shakes his head with a frown. He really loves his friends, but sometimes he wonders why he's even friends with them.

"Did you puke on her?" Donghyuck covers his mouth with his hand. Yeah, Renjun wonders in times like these.

"No."

"Did she puke on you?"

"No! There was no vomit involved," Renjun explains, eyes widened in alarm. This conversation slowly but surely makes him wonder how his friends' hook-ups tend to go... not that he wants to know, considering all this talk about throwing up.

"Then why are you not sharing every single detail?" Jaemin grins, scooting his chair closer to Renjun until he's uncomfortably pressed up against his cheek, reeking like coffee and sleep.

"Because..." Renjun frowns in defeat. "Because she was gone this morning."

"And? What, are your balls itchy?" Donghyuck raises his brows.

"What? Why would my balls be itchy?" Renjun whines, finally peeling his cheek away from Jaemin. "She didn't give me an STD, nor an UTI. W-we used a condom, I think."

"You think?" Donghyuck laughs, straightening his back from being leaned over the table for too long. "Did our Renjunnie hit it raw?"

"Honestly, I don't know why we're talking about this?"

"Did her pussy grip you too tightly to pull out?" Jaemin asks, nodding understandingly while padding his shoulder, "happens to the best of us."

"You're a maker, Renjun," Donghyuck adds.

"First of all, I don't know what that means. Second of all: the sex was fine! Great even-" Renjun tries to defend himself and his hook-up, even though he's not entirely sure why, considering she, well, left without a trace.

"Did she smell good?"

"What, her vagina?"

"Everything."

"Uh- yes? She used perfume, and everything else smelled healthy, I guess. But what I'm trying to say is-"

"Jaemin you bastard! You really have a problem, fucking panty sniffer!" Donghyuck laughs loudly, making Renjun instantly aware of his own hangover.

"Sue me," Jaemin leans back grinning, hands coming up in faux defense.

"It bothers me that she snuck out without even saying anything!" Renjun shouts, palm coming down on the table top with such force that both of his friends jump. It goes silent for a while until Donghyuck opens his mouth once again.

"I understand, man." He leans forwards, placing a palm on Renjun's shoulder. "That was really disrespectful of her." "Not cool," Jaemin chimes in supportively. "But look on the bright side: you'll never have to see her again."

"I guess that's true," Renjun mumbles, "but-"

"But?"

Hesitantly, Renjun looks into Jaemin's face, then into Donghyuck's. "It was really good."

Chaos breaks loose, both of them cheering loudly. Donghyuck begins laughing until his knees hit the floor – an impressive action considering the amount of alcohol his system has to fight – and even Renjun manages to crack a smile.

_____

"Jun, you might wanna see this," Donghyuck proposes hesitantly from the other room. Renjun, already annoyed about having to make his way all over to the living room and abandoning his brewing tea, sighs. What in the world could be important enough to summon him from the kitchen?

"Can't it wait?"

"Believe me when I say you might wanna see this."

Renjun aggressively throws his hands in the air for no one to see, he can't live in peace for even a second with this guy. Still, he stomps over, standing in the door frame with furrowed brows and crossed arms. "I swear if this is some stupid shit again-"

"It's your dating app."

Renjun rolls his eyes, "they've been sending useless messages for the past four months, I don't fucking care."

"It says they found a match." Donghyuck finally looks up from Renjun's phone, eyes wide and mouth shaped into an 'o' form. Renjun's own eyes bulge out at the preposition. "What?!"

He stumbles over, ripping the device from Donghyuck's fingers and holds it close to his face. Indeed, there's the notification. They found them. They found someone!

"Man you should really get your eyes checked if this is how-"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm the happiest man alive!" Renjun beams, smacking Donghyuck in the back of his head without lifting his gaze from the screen. Donghyuck mewls, and it sounds a little too much like a moan, but everybody knows Donghyuck is a little pain slut, so Renjun pays him no mind.

Renjun instead klicks on the notification, the application he hasn't visited in over half a year popping up slowly. There it is. The moment Renjun had anticipated for such a long time. He's a little disappointed that he can't visit this person's profile or anything, but he quickly forgets about it as his eyes land on a button that spells: 'send an invitation'.

"Hyuck, you have to go," Renjun announces, causing Donghyuck to lift his head, gaze drifting away from his own phone screen to look at Renjun perplexed.

"Eh?"

"Leave! I have to get ready," Renjun whines, peeling Donghyuck off of his couch by his wrist. Donghyuck complies balky, but lets himself get pushed out of the front door that Renjun closes in his face immediately, then rushes into the bathroom.

The invitation was sent for tonight, 8 pm. That means he has four hours to get himself and this shit hole he calls his home ready, and the task seems nearly impossible. That is until he finds himself, embarrassingly out of breath, ruffling his hair one last time in front of the mirror by the front door before the doorbell rings. He made it just in time.

His hands shake as he presses the button that opens the door, and a little harder even as he grips the handle to open the door to his apartment.

"Get a grip," he tells himself quietly, then puts on a smile as he listens to the footsteps climbing the staircases. His heart beats rapidly against his ribcage as his eyes focus on where is soulmate is going to appear in the next few seconds.

There, a foot comes into sight, followed by...

"You?!"

Silence.

"Hi?"

"I'm gonna need a minute-"

After splashing cold water in his face in the bathroom and pulling himself together, Renjun comes back to find you sitting on his couch, looking a little nervous, but generally contained and not as bothered by this disaster as Renjun. Sitting down, Renjun watches the arms move slowly over the face of his antique clock that with every passing second omits an obnoxiously loud ticking sound that is only overshadowed by the thick tension hanging in the air. Every once in a while, his gaze traces your form on the farthest end of Renjun's couch, staring blankly at the wall.

"Why did you sneak out?" Renjun puts his thoughts into words, eyebrows scrunched together in a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"It was just a hook-up," you turn your head to whine at him, "I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this?"

"Because it-" Renjun starts, but then decides that he'd much rather not appear pathetic in front of you for moaning about that being his last sexual encounter before formally agreeing to wait for the one.

"Alright," you sigh after a while, "I'm sorry, alright?"

Renjun clears his throat and nods, "okay. Thank you."

"I'd much rather talk about the important things right now," you say, turning your entire body to sit cross-legged on the couch facing Renjun. You take a deep breath before opening your mouth again. "I'm just going to say what everyone here is thinking: the app obviously made a mistake."

Renjun's eyebrows fly upwards as he blinks once, very slowly, "excuse me?"

"Yeah. I mean, no offense, but you're obviously a softie! And I like tall men,-"

"I don't think I'm getting this right, you fucked me before?!"

"Yeah, it was fine for a night, but-"

"And why am I a softie- or, first of all, why is that bad? We both did the experiment, we're both looking for a perfect match, or am I wrong?" Renjun did not even notice getting up from his place on the sofa, or when he started pointing an accusing finger at you.

"I don't know, you take it so serious-"

"And you're being a real bitch right now." Renjun furrows his brows even further as you get up as well to stand right in front of him, your pointer finger pushing into his chest.

"I do not appreciate you calling me that."

"I have done nothing wrong, I cleaned this whole place, and even when I realized that it had to be you, of all people, I was willing to work with it, but right now, I just want to..."

Renjun realizes how close you are to him right now, he can smell your perfume, the same scent you'd worn the other night. Even if it was whole while ago, he still remembers the dusty note that now once again tickles his nostrils, immediately taking him back to that night.

"...kiss you."

Renjun hasn't even closed his mouth before your lips press against his, your passion wild and untamed as your bodies press closer, your hands immediately going to his hair, gently pulling so it stings at his scalp as Renjun's own hands roam over your form to settle on your waist and ass.

His head is clouded, his mind hazy with the feeling of you against him. He's a little embarrassed of your affect on him, immediately growing hard in his pants as soon as you hump yourself against him, content sighs flowing from his mouth into yours.

It's hectic, hands touching everywhere at once all of a sudden, fingers clutching clothing in an attempt to rid the other of them, limbs tangling as Renjun moves the both of you to the nearby bedroom.

You somehow manage to peel yourselves out of your clothes, Renjun can feel how wet you are for him, and though he's so focused on only you, he can't help but comment spitefully, "you prefer tall men, huh?"

"Fuck you," you gasp before kissing him again, and Renjun does not quite know how to feel about this, maybe it's bad, maybe it's good, but he assumes that this type of behavior should not make his tummy fill with butterflies. It still does.

Renjun lines himself up with your hole, then thrusts forward. He doesn't take his time to prep you like last time, he finds that if you want to act like a bitch, you should be treated like one. He's also very perplexed that he's thinking like this, he never has, but he guesses you bring this side out in him.

You cry out in pure bliss as he stretches your walls that are struggling to take his size, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure. Renjun's thrusts are quick and hard, ramming his tip against your spot in a way that makes you see stars and your thighs shiver around his waist.

Your orgasm approaches fast, almost embarrassingly fast considering you made such a fuss earlier, Renjun admits to himself, feeling proud as he pushes you over the edge with ease. The moans tumbling from your lips are nothing short of pornographic, and Renjun does not have it in him to shut you up for the sake of his neighbors.

Instead, he pulls out, then quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, pressing them upwards repeatedly to tickle another quick high out of you. His eyes are on you the entire time while yours are closed, assumingely overwhelmed with how good he's making you feel.

Once you writhe from overstimulation, Renjun removes his fingers as well, licking a fat stripe over your cunt before turning you around and pressing your face into the sheets.

"I'll show you how much of a softie I can be," he grunts before pushing in once again, his hand pressing against the back of your head as he crashes his hips into yours with such force that the bed frame penetrates imprints into his wall. Your moans are muffled, and Renjun decides that he'd much rather have his neighbors hear how good of a fuck he is, so he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you up.

"Oh God," you whine, back arching beautifully to take even more of him, and Renjun suppresses a coy grin at the fact that he's able to destroy you that easily.

"Hm? Not so soft now, huh?"

"I'm gonna cum again-" you announce, hands gripping the sheets as you try to ground yourself, to just take and take and take what Renjun gives you, and soon after he can feel you clench around him as another orgasm takes over you, leaving you weak and shaky.

"Too much?"

You shake your head, but Renjun pulls out nevertheless. "Get on your knees, I want you to suck me off."

Never in his life has Renjun seen someone hurry off a bed so eagerly. You open your mouth compliantly, like a well trained slut, and Renjun can simply push his cock between your lips and fuck your mouth. "Tap my leg when I should stop."

You nod quickly, then relax your jaw for him to use you. Renjun loves this sight of you. He remembers what you looked like when you came over, with pretty makeup and perfectly styled hair – and now everything's ruined, your hair messy and tangled, your makeup smudged by a mixture of tears and spit. Renjun loves how hazily your eyelids flutter as you try to look up at him, eyes seemingly focussing and un-focussing, more tears welling up in your eyes before they trickle down your cheeks, spit coating your chin as you gag a little.

Renjun believes he could get used to this.

_____

The sun tickling the tip of his nose is what wakes him up the next morning. With a groan, he tries to adjust his eyes to the bright light shining into his bedroom – the downside of having a bedroom that faces east. Once he realizes where he is, the memories of last night come flying back to him. He has to find his arms to be much emptier than when he went to bed the night before. He sighs, a hand coming up to run over his face. Honestly, he didn't even have to check the rest of his home to know that you snuck out again.

A mug filled with coffee in hand, Renjun lets out a shaky sigh. It stings, he's not going to lie, but maybe you have your reasons, maybe something came up, maybe you need time to think. Or maybe you just hate him and only want to use his desperate state of romanticism and body for your selfish nature.

This assumption is neither proven to be false nor correct when his doorbell rings a couple of months later. In the meantime, Renjun had done nothing but sulk, try to pull himself together, work non-stop to get you out of his mind, realized it's not working and went back to sulking, then the cycle repeated itself. He hadn't even updated his friends about the encounter for a lack of energy, basically. His apartment is a mess, empty to half-empty boxes of takeout littered all over the place, bottles with a last sip left left and right that Renjun trips over every few hours only to curse loudly and do nothing to clean them up afterwards. Basically, he's living like Donghyuck and Jaemin right now.

His feet drag him to the door. "Hello?"

"They're threatening me."

Renjun, without even having heard it twice through the speaker, recognizes your voice immediately. And before he knows it, his finger presses the button that opens the door with a buzzing sound. He curses at himself, panic arising as he listens to your heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs to his apartment. Once you step into sight, Renjun loses his ability to talk. Why do you have to look gorgeous? Why does he want to get on his knees and eat you out immediately? Why is he so weak?

You take fast steps and invite yourself into Renjun's home as he does nothing but take a few careful steps back. You then lock the door as you check the hallway behind the door through the peephole for any potential threats.

"Who?" Renjun finally gets out.

"The app developers," you mumble before retrieving from the door.

"Why?"

"They know I left, now they keep threatening me."

"I doubt that," Renjun frowns.

"Look!" You push your phone into his hands. Renjun curiously scans the last notifications the app sent you.

How did it go? Did you find your soulmate with us? Please rate us in the app store.

Hey! We found your soulmate! Now all you need to do is rate this experience.

Your soulmate is happy to have you. Thank you for working with us, please leave a rating in the app store.

Rate your love experience now!

Renjun snorts.

"What?" You watch him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

"These are hardly threats."

"They just keep coming, this has to be a threat. Haven't you gotten any?"

"I don't know, I don't have the app anymore," Renjun mumbles.

"Right..." you say, finally taking a first look around the place. "And what happened here?"

"Stop judging me!" Renjun turns his back to you while crossing his arms. Of course he hadn't had the time to deep clean his apartment when he was busy sulking and writhing in self-pity for the past months. And, to be fair, it was all your fault!

"Alright, maybe they're not threats, per-se. They still made me feel bad..."

"Oh?" Renjun turns back around, eyebrows raised. "It has a heart?"

"Ha-ha," you deadpan, but Renjun can't suppress a smile as he makes his way over to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink, and you kicking your shoes off, and then following him on track like a lost puppy.

Renjun opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of the fruity water he's prepared a few hours ago (not because he felt like it, only because he was afraid the remaining fruit his mom brought over because she coincidentally happened to be in town a few days ago would go bad if he didn't use them). He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a refreshing sip.

You watch him set the glass down on the counter. "Aren't you going to ask me if I want something?"

With a hint of playfulness that he does not want to give away under any circumstances, Renjun scoffs, "yeah, as if I'm going to be nice to you after the stunt you pulled. Twice." Renjun holds up two of his fingers to highlight his words.

Your brows furrow as you open your mouth to complain, but you must have realized he's right, so you shut it again, turning into a cute pout instead. "I'm sorry. It's just- it's hard-" You give up and press your lips together tightly. "Can we- start over?"

"Oh? From what point?" Renjun raises his brows, lifting his hand to count with his fingers, "when you abandoned me the first time? When you insulted me? Or when I fucked you so good you couldn't stop drooling on the sheets?" He smiles in victory at your shocked expression. "To which I could also add: the first or the second time." He wiggles two fingers in front of your face with a smug smirk.

"I wish I could say this behavior of yours irritates me to the point where I just want to give up, but you're kind of hot looking all messed up and heart-broken because of me while sporting that victorious grin," you say and step towards him.

"Ah, really?" Renjun's confident shell starts to crumble.

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" You stop right in front of him, and Renjun has to press his ass against the counter to keep that little distance that allows him to breathe. Amused, the corner of your mouth twitches, then you extend your hand as your gaze bores into his.

"Hi, my name is ____ and I would love to suck your cock."

Renjun hates the way his breath hitches as he carefully shakes your hand for a reason he is not aware of. "I-I'm Renjun," he simply says, and the playful smirk on your face widens as you pull your hand out of his to lay atop of the waistband of his sweatpants. Renjun hates it even more that he feels his blood that just milliseconds ago thumbed through his ears now rushing downwards awakening his cock.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" Your voice is bittersweet as you bat your lashes at Renjun who gulps before breathing out a "yeah".

You smile, fingers untying his sweatpants before you push your hand inside to feel him up. "So hard, all for me? What a good boy you are, Renjun."

Renjun bites down on his lip, face contorting in pleasure as he feels you feel him up and down, his hips push forward involuntarily. Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just be- less enticing, less hot, less able to turn his brain to complete mush every time he sees you? Renjun knows where this is going, you're going to give him the best, most amazing, jaw-dropping, eye-rolling, toe-curling head of his life, and then you're going to walk out that door as if there aren't still drops of Renjun's cum trickling down your esophagus.

Just as your hands leave the inside of his pants to pull them down his legs, Renjun grabs ahold of your wrists. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"No," Renjun catches your gaze that holds a whole lot of insecurities in them, or so he assumes. "I am not letting you touch me until I know you won't leave me again."

The look in your eyes tells him that something about this interaction hit a nerve very deep down, so he tries to lighten the mood with a light joke and a careful smile. "At least take me out on a date before you use me."

Jackpot, he realizes, as you scoff and pull your wrists from his grasp. "Alrighty then, what do you want to eat?"

_____

The wideness of his eyes expands exponentially with every word you tell the guy behind the counter of the nearest Subway who prepares your sandwich. He could mouth along your order because, even up until the sauce, it's identical with his. Hence, all he tells the guy once he's finished is "the same". You seem not to notice – or care – and the quick walk back home is quiet despite the tornados of thoughts winding through Renjun's mind. Is this how the app worked? Match people with similar taste in food? Though he doesn't remember putting his Subway order in when submitting his forms.

Arriving at home, you ask Renjun to put on a show to watch while eating, and when he plays his all time favorite, Modern Family, you announce that that's your favorite as well.

Renjun watches, half in awe and half scared for his life, as you practically inhale the foot-long sandwich in front of his eyes, and he feels his heart thumb just a little faster seeing you all domestic like this; not dolled up, and not with his cum dripping from some part of your body, just you being you. Apparently, he likes you more than he likes to admit, he's afraid.

"I think I'm going to delete that app as well," you announce as you wipe the remaining sauce and crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"How so?"

"I have you now, don't I?" You shrug, placing your plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. Renjun's heart jumps at your words, then sighs and happily sinks deeper into the comfort of his chest.

"Does that mean- I mean-" But he is shushed by your finger pressing against his lips, that makes his eyes widen.

"Shh, baby boy, don't ruin it." You say, then get up.

"Where are you going?"

"Will you calm down? I just want to pee!" You whine, then march off towards his bathroom, and Renjun wants to punch himself in the face for watching you go with a smitten gaze, but he can't help staring. You're just too gorgeous. He loves the way you're so relaxed and funny, sighing lovingly as he admires your beauty coming back from the restroom to sit down next to him with a thud and a weirded out expression on your face.

"Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I just took your virginity in a field of dandelions."

"I am not!"

"Whatever. Can we fuck now?"

The little hearts circling around Renjun's heart – metaphorically – shatter. "Are you being serious?"

"I hate to admit this too, but you're pretty good at what you're doing."

"I am more than just a toy for you to use!" Renjun argues, setting his plate down on the coffee table next to yours. Anger is visibly written all over his face, and you seem to finally get the hint that he's serious about this.

"Alright, then. What do you wanna do instead? Cuddle?!" You suggest, and although it does not seem like this is a legitimate offer, Renjun takes it.

"Yeah, for example!"

And that's how your back ends up pressed to his front as you watch TV, not without a last roll of your eyes, of course, and while Renjun affectionately plays with your hair, he has time to relish in the feeling of being loved for the first time since forever, even if he had to threaten you with deprivation of sex. Later, you even fall asleep in his arms, in his bed, and when he wakes up the next morning, you are snoring soundly besides him.

_____

"Do you want to meet my friends?" Renjun asks casually over the steam evaporating from the hot coffee mugs on the breakfast table. You have half a Baozi in your mouth, and Renjun can only guess your next words as they come out.

"What? Why? Are we getting married?" He assumes you say.

"No, I just thought, you know, since things were getting serious-"

"We are?!" You muffle with wide eyes.

Over the past days that you'd spent at Renjun's place without missing a single day (except for the 4 hours when you went to get your stuff... 4 hours that drove Renjun insane with fear that you wouldn't return), Renjun kind of started to wonder what it is that you're doing for a living that you can just disappear like that without anyone wondering where you are, but he noticed that you do not like to talk much about yourself. All he knows that your interests and taste are, quite frankly, scarily similar to his own. He assumes that you are just careful when it comes to opening up to people, so he is more than thrilled when he finds you next to him every single morning and decides that there will be a time and place for you to bond over deep talk.

"Calm down, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we've been hanging out a lot and I think it would be... fun?" Renjun suggests carefully. A weight lifts off his heart as your wide eyes shrink back to their normal size and you take your time to chew and swallow before your answer.

"Okay." And then you stuff the other half of the steamed bun into your mouth.

"Great! I'll text them!"

"Today?!"

"We really have to stop talking about this while we eat."

"It's okay, do it whenever, honestly." But only muffled sounds and a few crumbs come out.

"What?"

You roll your eyes dramatically, then point yourself.

"You?"

You nod, then point to Renjun. "Me?"

Then you squiggle your pointer and forefinger in a way that resembles a pair of legs – "go?" – you nod, then point downwards – "here?" – you shake your head – "today?" – you nod frantically and press your pointer finger to your thumb – "okay?"

You finally swallow. "Man, I said it's okay if we go today."

"That was absolutely unnecessary. Now go get ready, I'll text them."

_____

"Where is your other half?"

"Probably inside of someone," Donghyuck says about the lack of Jaemin at the table, but his eyes are intensely focused on you. You on the other hand seem to have found great interest in your fingernails and refuse to take your eyes off of them. "Yo, is she shy or something?"

"I'm not," you say, your eyes snapping up to gaze at Donghyuck who looks a little taken aback. You smile sweetly, then reach over the table to shake his hand. "I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted. Hey, I'm the girl that Renjun fucks."

Renjun chokes on his own spit, and Donghyuck snorts loudly. You lean against the backrest of the McDonald's seat and grab Renjun's hand to hold. Renjun, finally recovered from his near-death-experience, can't believe what's happening as his eyes zone in to where your fingers intertwine with his. It even makes him miss that that was a complete lie since the no-sex-until-i-know-you-won't-leave-thing is still on the table.

"So, how is he? In bed, I mean?" Donghyuck folds his hands beneath his chin and leans forward interestedly.

"Oh, he's great, really! He doesn't look like it, but he has a lot of stamina. And, to be fair, he's not the biggest, but it gets the job done nicely, I especially love it when he-"

"Can we not talk about my dick in a McDonald's?! Please?!"

"Oop, looks like we hit a sore spot-" Donghyuck remarks.

"I am not insecure about- you know what? Fuck you. Go get the food, it's ready," Renjun snaps and pushes the receipt with the pick up number on it into Donghyuck's hand who throws you another knowing look before strolling off to get the food.

"I will not apologize for-"

"You're holding my hand," Renjun states.

"What?" Your eyebrows contort in confusion.

"My hand, you're holding it," Renjun says, lifting both of your hands into your line of sight to prove his point.

"Yeah, so?"

"I like that."

A genuine smile spreads over your face and you bite your lip, maybe to suppress it, but Renjun saw it, and look down at your lap. Donghyuck appears again, tray in hand, and Renjun would've missed your quiet whisper of "he likes that" if his entire world wasn't revolving around you right now.

"What are we talking about?" Donghyuck grins as he slides back onto his seat, immediately pulling a fry out of the box and dunking it in his milkshake. Renjun, still in awe that you're holding his hand, immediately notices how your face contorts in disgust.

"Why the fuck are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Dipping your fry."

Renjun watches with heart-shaped eyes how Donghyuck's mouth opens and closes for a lack of a proper response, because – shit – that is exactly what he's been thinking for the past five years.

"Because I like it?"

"Alright," you shrug, then attend to your cheeseburger. Renjun mirrors your action, lifting the top half of the bun to peel the single slice of pickle off the surface before sticking the burger back together, not noticing how you do the exact same thing until Donghyuck points it out.

"So? That's what it's like when you found a match. Another great advantage is having only one partner whom you engage in sexual activities with. Ah, by the way, how is your itchy sack?"

"Good one, babe," you compliment as Donghyuck's face falls onto his BigMac, and Renjun could not feel any better at that exact moment.

"Sorry I'm late!" The voice of no other than Na Jaemin appears behind Renjun only to reveal said man seconds later as he flops down next to Donghyuck, forcing him to squeeze further against the wall. Donghyuck complains, but no one pays him any mind.

A heavy grin adorns Jaemin's face, an expression Renjun's grown to know like the back of his own hand over the past years. Jaemin's post orgasm glow is so bright and blinding that Renjun's sure he must have just gotten a blowjob in the McDonald's bathroom. His tongue slurps parts of his McFlurry off his spoon. Renjun watches as Jaemin's gaze runs over to you, and as if someone's flipped a switch inside him, Jaemin's smile drops. If the sudden silence wasn't so ear numbing, one would've heard it smash to the ground and shatter into pieces. Even Donghyuck has stopped munching on his food to scan the situation, the end of a fry sticking out from between his lips.

Renjun's heart stops, then starts thumping up his throat as he slowly turns his head towards you, and this exact process repeats itself as he sees how pale you've gotten. Your eyes are trained on Jaemin, and Renjun can see you gulp once before you suddenly get up, the legs of the chair disgustingly scratching over the floor, and leave the fast food restaurant with hurried steps.

Despite desperately wanting to know what the fuck just happened, Renjun hastily gets up to run after you, calling out your name, once, twice, but when he reaches the doors, panting breath creating soft clouds in the cool air, you're out of sight.

_____

Ah, what a great morning. That is what Renjun would have thought if it was opposite day. He is devastated. You are nowhere to be found, the apartment empty since he returned and he still regrets not asking for your number sometime during the past days, though there was no need since you'd spend all your time at his place anyway. But now you're not. You're gone, and Jaemin refuses to let him in on what exactly happened between the two of you that made you leave the place in a hurry, only for Renjun to find Jaemin gone as well as soon as he returned. He only found Donghyuck sitting at the table, dragging his last fry through the milkshake. They finished their meal in silence.

As the doorbell rings, Renjun falls off the couch, scrambles up and runs to answer the door. It's not you, though, it's Donghyuck, who for once decided to be a good friend and check in on Renjun, even though the latter would rather just lie down in a puddle of his own tears, and sob.

"I'm sorry, man," Donghyuck says, dragging Renjun into his arms for comfort. Renjun simply sighs. The warmth of Donghyuck's hug does actually help ease some of the tension in his heart, and when they part, Renjun invites Donghyuck in for some tea.

"Do you know what happened?" Renjun asks as he hands Donghyuck his mug.

"Not a clue. Jaemin hasn't even been home. I have some theories, though." Donghyuck takes a sip and curses after burning his tongue.

"That are?" Renjun is actually relieved to have someone else break their brain over this situation that is not him.

"Number one: Jaemin is her lost brother."

Renjun blinks.

"Number two: Jaemin fucked her mother and destroyed her parent's marriage."

Renjun raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, number three: Jaemin fucked her mother and is her father."

Renjun raises a hand to slap him.

"Okay, okay! Sorry. Number four, and this actually goes two ways. Four point one: They fucked and she is the one girl that broke Jaemin's heart and made him this way."

Renjun does not like the sound of that at all.

"Four point two: They fucked and Jaemin broke her heart and that's why she can't commit."

"I hate all of your theories with my entire being," Renjun admits, "Do you have one that does not mean something bad?"

"Um..." Donghyuck thinks for a while that, admittedly, lasts too long for Renjun to relax, "Jaemin once saved her cat and she never got the chance to thank him because- he fucked her mom- I'M SORRY that's all I can think of."

Renjun sighs. "I don't know. I just wish she would care about me enough to just talk to me, you know?"

"I don't think that's the problem," Donghyuck suggests and Renjun looks away from his steaming mug and at Donghyuck instead. "I think she cares about you a lot, but there seems to be some sort of past trauma that makes it hard for her. I mean, I'm not a specialist since you" – a glaring Donghyuck points an accusing finger at Renjun – "refuse to update me about every little thing like I asked you to, but I don't think this has as much to do with you as you think."

"I've never thought about it that way," Renjun admits, and a little weight drops off his heart at the fact that he is possibly not at fault, and neither are you. "Thank you, Hyuck, honestly."

"No biggie." Donghyuck shrugs with a smug smirk. "You can pay me back in kind."

"What do you mean?"

"A smooch." Donghyuck puckers his lips, but at the same time, the doorbell rings a second time that day, causing Renjun to jump and run towards the obnoxious sound. This time, it really is you.

"Can we talk?" You ask as you stand in his doorway, and Renjun can't do anything but blink in awe because, honestly? He thought he'd never see you again.

"Um, not to be rude, but we're kind of in the middle of something here," Donghyuck says with his lips still puckered for Renjun to kiss. Renjun, without taking his eyes off of you in case you'd vaporize once he looked away for even a split second, ushers Donghyuck to leave since, "he was on his way out, actually."

Not without throwing a little tantrum, Donghyuck lets himself get pushed out of Renjun's apartment. Renjun whispers another 'thank you' and blows him a kiss before closing the door in Donghyuck's face.

_____

"I didn't know you started smoking again," Renjun comments as you sit on his sad excuse of a balcony.

"This is for the vibe," you say, and blow the smoke into the air. "And maybe I had a drink."

"Okay."

Silence.

"This is really scary for me," you admit, and Renjun assumes that you're talking about opening up.

"You can trust me, I'm not going anywhere," Renjun assures, placing a careful arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple.

"Jaemin was my first love."

Renjun gulps. He feels a little part of his heart break off and shatter against his ribcage, leaving a stinging pain behind. Great, so you know Jaemin, and not only that, he happened to be the first one you've ever let into your heart. Renjun assumes that it's been a couple of years since then, but knowing Jaemin, he couldn't possibly be the best first love, or a good one even. Don't get him wrong, he dearly loves Jaemin – in a platonic way – but the way he treats girls is not something he should be as proud of as he is. But maybe he hasn't always been like this. Maybe you were the one to make him like this.

"Go on," Renjun finally coughs out. His hands feel a little shaky, maybe even a little sweaty, and he feels the need to wrap them around the metal railing separating him from free falling to his death.

"It was back in school. I fell for him immediately. He made me feel like the only girl in the world."

Renjun dares to look over at you to watch you sigh, dragging on your cigarette once again. You look incredibly pained, and as much as he wants you to shut up because it seems to be hurting not only him, but you as well, he needs to know.

"Well, that was until he took my virginity. Never saw him again after that until," you pause, clear your throat and take a deep breath and continue pressed with your eyes closed, "until today."

Renjun takes a minute to calm down his mind from running thoughts on overspeed. "I'm- so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could say he's not like that anymore, but... well, his moral compass enhanced a little... um..." Renjun removes his hands from the railing, wiping them on his jeans, then turns to you. "Look, I can see why you wouldn't want to hang out w-"

"No," you interrupt him, dragging on your cigarette once more before carelessly flicking the bud onto the streets below, then you turn to him, take a careful step forward and take his hands into yours. "I trust you. I want you to be the right one. I want you to break this pattern, I want you to change my future."

Renjun does not know how to respond. There's a part of him that wants to pay Jaemin a visit and punch him, but he knows better than to start a physical fight with Na Jaemin, the local gym's best customer. And besides, what would it matter? It's not like violence would change anything. "May I hug you?"

You nod, and Renjun wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. His chin rests in the crook of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo, and he is not sure whether it's a good thing that he falls for you more and more every second he spends with you.

_____

Renjun decided that it would be best not to see Jaemin for some time, mostly in favor of his own well being considering that Jaemin would dominate him if it ever came to a physical confrontation. Instead, he focuses his energy on making you feel loved and protected, and makes sure he never gives you the impression of leaving you. He mostly enjoys the quiet nights with you, creating as much physical contact as possible without being uncomfortable, and freely talking into the rise of the sun.

Renjun learned that it's only been you and your mom, most of the time, since your dad cheated on her when you were still a child. Then, as soon as you turned eighteen and got your first real job, your mother left the country. Not without saying goodbye, but apparently, she made it clear that she didn't want to stay in contact. Ever since, it's only been you. You'd always been by yourself, having to care for yourself, working hard to make enough money to be able to afford rent and food. In a way, you had raised yourself to be independent, and your past encounter with Jaemin must have just intensified your bias not to trust men after what your father did to your mother.

Still, that's all Renjun knows about you. And after 3 months of living together, he kind of wishes to know where you live – well, when you're not living with him – what you do for a job, if you have any friends for him to meet, but all he knows is your zodiac sign. Although, he calms himself down by telling himself that you need time to build up trust. After everything that's happened to you, Renjun is the last person wanting to pressure you.

It's only that one particular conversation with his friend Donghyuck he doesn't seem to be able to let go.

"How long have you been living together?" Donghyuck asked as he ripped a small piece off of the bread in his hand to throw it into the pile of ducks gathered in front of them at the pond at the local park. Donghyuck loves to go there to feed the ducks, and Renjun almost found it cute until Donghyuck told him the real reason behind his regular visits to feed the ducks at the pond: picking up girls.

Donghyuck swears that this is the perfect way to get a "chick" (his words, not Renjun's) to fall for you. Either they love this sweet, domestic side of a man who is soft enough to go feed ducks in his spare time which inevitably makes him boyfriend material, or they're there with their kids and- Renjun can't recall how this was different from the first thing. He only remembers thinking that Donghyuck has a weird obsession with older women, and the freudian curiosity in Renjun kind of pushes him to find out more about what that's about. Maybe another time.

"Almost three months," Renjun smiled widely, ready to spill information about all the great memories he had made with you over the past 11 weeks, like when he accidentally sent the pizza delivery guy to the wrong address or when the both of you giggled too loudly at a YouTube video until his downstairs neighbor knocked at his door and begged for you to shut up (admittedly, there's not much going on), but Donghyuck interrupted him with his hand hitting Renjun square in his solar plexus.

"Three months?! Woah, get it champ! How often do you do it?" Donghyuck asked, completely ignoring the way Renjun had to fight not to double over and slide face forward into the pond.

"We-" Renjun coughed and was finally able to stand up straight again. "We actually don't have sex at all."

In hindsight, Renjun's knowledge of physics and anatomy make him doubt the reaction he remembers, but he vividly recalls Donghyuck's eyes to drive out of his skull as he jumped about 3 meters into the air. Summarized: Donghyuck was a little surprised!

"Um, well, I didn't think it would hit you this early, but there are ways, man." Donghyuck patted Renjun's shoulder brotherly. "I still have a few pills at home if you want to try them. I get them from this one guy, and they're worth every penny, let me tell you-"

"I do not suffer from erectile disfunction," Renjun clarified and Donghyuck quickly shut his mouth, blinked a few times, then began to defend himself about how he doesn't need them to get hard, just to stay hard longer or whatever.

"Anyway," Renjun side-eyed Donghyuck as he finally stopped talking, "I just... don't want her to leave me again."

"Ah, that's how the land lies," Donghyuck grinned, "but buddy, it's been months, don't you miss it?"

"Not really," Renjun lied without cause.

"Don't you miss the way it feels?" Donghyuck leaned closer, warm breath tickling Renjun's ear and neck, his voice getting whiney and full of lust as he explained the warm, wet feeling of a-

"Okay, maybe I do!" Renjun said in defeat, holding onto Donghyuck's hands to stop them for making lewd gestures.

"Then there's nothing stopping you. Well, except for the fact that it's very weird how she just lives with you. Doesn't she have a job? Does she pay rent?" Donghyuck frowned at Renjun with raised eyebrows.

Renjun squinted his eyes at him, frowning as well. "Where is this coming from?!"

"I'm just saying, you should ask her about that." Donghyuck shrugged and poured the remaining bread crumbs from his paper bag onto the ground, causing ducks to zoom out of the water and gather around their feet.

"I don't want to pressure her. You know how hard it is for her to open up," Renjun reasoned, but Donghyuck seemed to be having ulterior motives, throwing a wink into the direction of a middle aged woman with a stroller. Renjun watched for a few moments as Donghyuck pressed his tongue into his cheek smugly, then shouted "just gave him some relationship advice while feeding the ducks", and how the woman chuckled and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then decided he's seen enough.

Sadly, turning off one's ears had not been invented yet, Renjun thought as he stepped away after patting disinterested Donghyuck's shoulder as goodbye, still hearing Donghyuck ask her about the child's father, how come such a beautiful woman doesn't have a strong man at her side, and what she's going to be doing tonight.

_____

"Baby?" Renjun enters the living room to find you sitting in front of the couch on the carpet, carelessly browsing through a magazine with your playlist randomly playing tunes in the background.

"Hey!" Your eyes light up as you see him. Renjun sits down beside you, a slight smile on his face as he takes in how beautiful you look tonight, just like all nights.

"What are you up to?" He asks, curiously leaning forward to be able to look at the magazine as well.

"It's just a women's magazine, it's like fashion and make-up trends an stuff," you explain briefly still scanning through the pages before your eyes light up once again as you turn to look at Renjun.

"What?" Renjun chuckles nervously, but simultaneously loving the look on your face.

"Could I.. do your make-up?" You ask straightforwardly. Renjun's eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise, mouth shaping an 'o' as he looks up thinking about it briefly. He's never gotten his make-up done before, and although the thought had never occurred to him before, it does sound like a fun couple's activity to do together that could lead to excellent bonding time. Therefore, he smiles and nods at your request.

Renjun coos at how you get up to grab your make-up bag with a slight excited jump in your walk, then watches how you lean down to fish it out of your bag, gulping hard and averting his gaze as you so carelessly present your ass to him. The conversation with Donghyuck still playing in his mind, he realizes that, apart from wanting to know more about you, he really does miss being inside of you physically.

Before he knows it, you're back on the carpet next to him, opening your bag to reveal the endless depths of its contents, various pencils and brushes, tubes and bottles that Renjun knows close to nothing about.

"What do you want me to do?" You ask, and Renjun smiles contently.

"Whatever you want, I'm yours to play with," he confirms before realizing the ambiguous meaning of his words. He still means them, in both ways.

Although, you do not seem to be catching on, shuffling to sit in front of Renjun instead to have a better look at his handsome face. "Your skin is pretty, so let's skip foundation," you decide and Renjun's smile grows at the implied compliment. Instead, you brush his messy bangs out of his face to be able to get a better look at his eyes.

"Can I do your eyeliner?" You ask, gazing deeply into his eyes, and honestly, you could've asked him to jump out of the window and he'd respond with the same breathy 'yes' he did just now. Especially now after you've climbed into his lap for better access.

"Okay," you giggle, now a black pencil in your hand, "look up!"

Renjun does his best to follow your orders, but the eyeliner feels very foreign on his eyes, and as you ask him to look down next, he is met with your cleavage greeting him, and he has to concentrate on not popping a boner instead.

After a while, you lean back, admiring your work as Renjun blinks a few tears away.

"You look pretty," you admit, handing Renjun a little mirror to see for himself. And as he catches his own reflection, he must admit that you're right. He does look pretty, but honestly, he could've looked like trash right now and he'd still do this over and over again just to be close to you.

"Thank you, I agree!" He smiles, handing you the mirror back.

"How about lipstick next?" You suggest and Renjun's eyes immediately dart down to your lips, remembering the last time his own lips touched them for longer than a quick peck, and longing for that feeling. So instead of answering, he nods, trying his best to conceal his nervousness.

A lipstick in hand, you get comfortable on his lap again, seemingly either ignoring or not caring what your shuffling does to him, then attend to his lips. Renjun's now able to watch your face closely as you apply the tinted product onto his lips, falling in love with the way you look when you concentrate on something.

Your gentle fingers tap the lipstick onto his lips, spreading the color gently to create a faded look, but Renjun doesn't really care anymore. His eyes keep focussing on your lips, yearning to taste them again, and he feels like it's showing with the way he keeps leaning in closer.

His heart skips a beat as he looks up into your eyes again to see them already looking into his, and he doesn't even have to say anything before you close the gap in between your mouths and begin kissing him gently, leaving one, two, three kisses on his lips before drawing back to look into his eyes again.

No words are exchanged, it's just him who leans in this time, breathing in deeply through his nose as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. He completely loses himself in you and the slow song playing in the background. Your lips feel heavenly, and Renjun admits that it's really been too long since the last time he got to taste them.

Your hands stroke over his body just as his do to yours, gentle moans fall from both of your lips as you carefully grind down against Renjun's prominent bulge. It doesn't take long for him to turn you around, gently laying you on your back to the soft carpet, caging you in with his arms and deeply gazing into your eyes. You strip each other of every piece of clothing, taking your sweet time to show the other how you feel, and as Renjun finally enters you, he feels like this is where he belongs.

_____

"Hyuck, I'm telling you, it was absolutely fantastic," Renjun beams, hands in the air metaphorically mimicking a large object to visualize how much fun he's had with you the night prior.

"I'm guessing the rule of premarital abstinence is off the table?" Donghyuck teases, face mockingly serious, though a brow sneaks its way upwards to hint at his playfulness. Renjun presses his lips together, hands sinking to the table.

"You are just jealous that woman in the park only wanted you to be her new babysitter," Renjun shoots back.

"That's what her mouth said, but do you know what her body said to me about thirty minutes later as I rammed my dick in her?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, pressing his tongue into his cheek smugly, and Renjun just stares blankly ahead, right through Donghyuck's insufferable ego as if it was see-through and not as solid as concrete. Donghyuck leans forwards, forearms holding his weight hovering over the tabletop.

"Ah, fuck, you're so big, Donghyuck. Please, d-don't tell my husband. H-he really can't find out that you're making m-me feel so much better than him, ugh, God, I wish you were the father of my children," Donghyuck moans, high pitched and fake like a porn star, and Renjun snorts, laughter that threatened to come out winning the battle against his muscles, and he's sure he spit on Donghyuck in the process. Payback.

"Sorry," Renjun says and doesn't mean it, "have you talked to your therapist about this 'Mommy'-thing?" Donghyuck sighs and rolls his eyes.

"It's not a 'Mommy'-thing. I don't want them to be my mom, I don't want them to pack me a lunch box and sing me a lullaby," Donghyuck explains.

"Then, what?" The corners of Renjun's mouth twitching downwards, threatening another wave of laughter to burst out with vigor.

"Older ladies know what they want in life. They went through labor and stuff and mostly already found a man, so when they want me, I feel good. Also, they know how to please a guy, you know?" Donghyuck says, and Renjun's eyes are about to pop out from the sole pressure of trying to keep his amusement from spitting Donghyuck in the face again.

"Alright, then, if my love life is so laughable, why don't you give me some insight on how great your girlfriend's cunt squeezes around your dick?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, meaning to sound petty and passive-aggressive, even though Renjun knows that he is eager to hear every little detail.

"Does everything have to be this graphic with you?" Renjun contorts his face in faux disgust, but huffs out a chuckle, not ready to admit that, in all honesty, Donghyuck's words sent him right back to last night when you came around him, milking him for all he's worth.

"It does. Whether you like it or not, this is what you signed up for when you started calling me your friend. Now spill," Donghyuck raises a threatening finger.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable giving out information to fuel your next wanking session with my girlfriend," Renjun notes, but continues to spill the details nonetheless. "So, all in all, very romantic until I was like 5 seconds pre-orgasm and 'Jopping' started playing."

"Did you-"

"I did nut to 'Jopping'."

"I guess you were really jumping and popping," Donghyuck examines, then thinks a little longer, "I guess you were a big boy throwing three stacks."

Renjun looks at him, lips turning into a thin line before he slaps his thighs and gets up. "I think I should go?"

"I guess you really made it bang," Donghyuck says and gets up as well, following Renjun into the hallway with quick footsteps. "I guess you really made the crowd go wild in a small room."

"Stop!" Renjun begs, giggling nevertheless as he slips his jacket on.

"I guess you really got that glow."

"Donghyuck!!" Renjun shrieks, not even fully slipping into his shoes before he grabs his bag and opens the door, Donghyuck behind him clutching his stomach laughing. Though, Renjun gets surprised by someone already standing outside the door, the grin immediately falling off his face as he sees who it is.

"I guess it's in your- " Donghyuck starts, but the second he sees the person in front of the door, his laughter dies down, "... nature."

"Hello, stranger," Renjun says sarcastically, squinting his eyes at Jaemin who simply gulps. It's not like Jaemin to not say anything, or to not smile. Renjun immediately feels a little sorry, but at the same time, he doesn't.

Jaemin simply nods before squeezing in between Renjun and the wooden door frame, kicking his shoes off hastily and hurrying past a flabbergasted Donghyuck towards his room. Renjun's eyes follow him disappear, and when he hears the door to Jaemin's room close shut, he feels reminded of how things really started going downwards as soon as you crossed paths with Jaemin again. Of course it bothers him knowing one of his best bros 1) had his dick in Renjun's girlfriend and 2) broke her heart and scarred her for life. What bothers him almost more is how things went well, they were okay, but now Jaemin needed to show up again and make Renjun question everything he's built with you.

What if Donghyuck is right? What if it really is weird that you keep staying at his place? Why is there never a place you have to be? Admittedly, Renjun had pushed this uncomfortable feeling of something being off with your stay to the very back of his brain, not wanting to destroy what you have, not wanting to waste his last chance for love because of something as insignificant as 'oh no, my girlfriend won't leave and I also don't want her to', but suppressing worries is never the answer. No matter how far you push them away, they always resurface to bite you in the butt. And sometimes they bite you in the butt in human form with a perfect, pearly-white set of teeth and eyes that seem alarmingly less sparkly than usual.

Renjun decides that he has to get a grip. He's been so blinded by love, or whatever it is right now that's surely developing into love, that he just let you step into his life, ruin one of his dearest friendships and keep eating the contents of his fridge when he's not home. All this, he tells himself on the way home, passing by a group of guys hanging out in the park together drinking. He sighs. Wasn't it always bros before hoes? Pals before gals? Homies before blow-me's? Does that still apply when the homie is in the wrong?

_____

"Darling?" Renjun whispers as he enters your (at this point) shared home. The lights are turned off, your figure nowhere to be found. Renjun sighs, slowly unties his shoe laces, takes his sneakers off and places them by the door carefully. He realizes most of his shoes are carelessly thrown all over the place, and so are yours. After the sixth pair he's carefully put into storage, he realizes what he's doing.

"You stupid gremlin, just ask her. Stop wasting time," Renjun tells himself, finally taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

"Ask me what?"

Renjun swears his soul leaves his body for a good 10 seconds before he can breathe again. Your silhouette stands in the doorway to his bedroom, the light of the lampposts outside shining on your backside, hugging your curves and making you look like an angel. Renjun curses his artistic eye in moments like these.

"You scared the crap out of me," he giggles, a little intimidated and, truthfully, freaked out at the way you just stand there, seemingly faceless because of the darkness.

"Aww, I'm sorry," you say, and approach him, hugging his cool figure into your arms. Hesitantly, Renjun hugs you back. Something inside him tells him that you're hiding something. "Where were you so long?"

Renjun breathes in slowly, then out through his nose. "Just walking around, needed to think." He's telling the truth.

"Are you okay?" You pull back, looking at his face gently illuminated by the moon. Very lightly, Renjun can make out the lines of worry on your face. He lets out a shaky breath.

"We need to talk."

Another layer of clothing lighter, Renjun sits down on the bed next to you, sweatpants and a white shirt replacing his earlier clothes that kept him from freezing in the cool weather of an early October. The expression on your face is unreadable, though you look not happy, but rather full of worry, sadness and a pinch of anger.

"Okay, this... this is not an easy thing to ask," Renjun finally starts, hating the tension that's so thick one could cut it with a knife.

"Please, um-" you stop him before anymore words can leave his mouth, glossed over eyes finding his gaze and the sight makes Renjun's heart ache. Never have you looked so raw, so fragile, so... broken? "Let me say something first, okay?"

Renjun nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on it. His heart beats fast, the sight of you in front of him almost making him forget why he marched through the streets of this town for hours with no physical goal, but only to make sense of the mess clouding his brain.

"I don't know... what exactly you're going to ask me, but-" you halt and stare downwards into your lap where your shaky hands are nervously fumbling with each other. "Whatever it is, whether you want to break up with me, I just want you to know that-" you gulp, voice shaky, "that I've never felt loved in my life except for when I was with you. You really showed me what love is, Jun. You made me love you. So, um..." you breathe out shakily, two tears rolling down and falling towards your hands as they reach the apples of your cheeks. "Thank you for your time and efforts. You really are the best person I've ever met."

_____

"You are fucking weak!" Donghyuck scolds, a little less playfully than usual.

"You don't get it, Hyuck. You weren't there. The sight would even have broken your sad excuse of a heart," Renjun defends himself.

"Excuse me? Just because my heart has Milf-shaped holes in it doesn't mean I don't feel empathy!" Donghyuck throws in, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Renjun feels a little less confident in his decision of letting you be than a few minutes ago. "What did you ask instead?"

Renjun bites his tongue. Admittedly, a day later, the decision doesn't seem as logical as it did hidden under the secure blankets of a dark night. "I asked if she wanted to meet my parents?"

Donghyuck laughs out, once, and very loud, then turns his body to Renjun and places his hands on the older's thighs. "And let me guess." He raises his eyebrows in amusement. Renjun is not amused. "She was like: 'oh my God, Junnie! Why didn't you just say that?' And playfully slapped your arm, and you somehow ended up with your dick so deep in her you could feel hear stomach acid."

"Ew, what the fuck?" Renjun's eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing, his mouth agape in horror. "Y-you know that's not how the female body works, right?"

"How would I know?" Donghyuck retorts, shrugging.

Renjun groans in frustration, hiding his face in his hands. Donghyuck is right. He shouldn't have let you off the hook so easily. He has the right to know! He deserves to have all the answers to his questions. He is honestly one incident away from making an AITA post on Reddit.

"Hey, hey," Donghyuck gently removes Renjun's hands from his face, letting his hands linger on the older's wrists, "don't beat yourself up, Jun. It's not your fault. If the pussy is tight, the pussy is tight, and there is nothing we can do about it. She's in your head, while you should be in her head – literally."

Renjun rolls his eyes.

"No, for real, though." Donghyuck softly slaps the back of Renjun's birthmarked hand. "Women have a different kind of power over us mortals." He looks deeply into Renjun's eyes. "You really like her, don't you?"

Renjun nods. "I might even use the other L-word."

"Okay, here's the thing," Donghyuck announces, now taking both of Renjun's hands in his, cheesily interlocking their fingers which Renjun chooses to ignore, "meeting your parents is great. I mean, inevitably, they're gonna ask her about her job, won't they?"

A spark of hopeful light appears in Renjun's eyes. "You're right. Thank you, Hyuck."

"Kiss me, then," Donghyuck says and winks. Renjun forcefully pulls his hands from Donghyuck's grip. "In your dreams."

"You don't wanna know what happens in my dreams, my dear Renjun," Donghyuck smirks and Renjun decides that this conversation has to end here.

"How are things with Jaemin?" He therefore asks, leaning back in his chair to create a bigger distance between him and the lecher.

"He's in and out, mostly when he knows I'm not around. I think I'm going to trap him later today when he comes home, and make him tell me what the fuck his problem is," Donghyuck explains matter-of-factly. Renjun admires Donghyuck for his confrontation abilities. Of course, Donghyuck is not as in the middle of all this as Renjun, but he himself would've dreaded running into Jaemin randomly in the hallway, would probably put a tracking device on Jaemin so he can properly avoid him, and – Heaven forbid – would not try to corner him and make him spill. Renjun really hates confrontation, he always has when it comes to people he's close with, that he likes, or rather: that he's afraid of losing, and this is probably one of the reasons why he finds it abnormally hard to tickle the kind of information out of you that he needs to sleep peacefully at night.

Either way, Donghyuck will get Jaemin, and his parents will get you, and Renjun gets all the information he needs without having to put in even an ounce of effort. Slowly, Renjun realizes that this is not that great of a foundation for a good relationship, platonically or romantically. Yeah, admittedly, he feels a bit like a wimp.

_____

Renjun's heart beats up his throat for no apparent reason, except for the fact that he's currently standing in front of his parents' house, having just pressed his finger into the button for the doorbell seconds prior. On his other hand: you, dressed up nicely as if you're trying to impress his parents, inevitably leading to a new hatch of butterflies dancing around in Renjun's stomach. He also quite enjoys the way your palm is a bit sweaty as you cling to his hand, proving that you're nervous, which means that you care. Renjun really likes imagining that you care.

"Son!" Renjun's father opens the door and pulls him into a strong, manly hug, his dad's large palm coming down on his back to knock the air out of him. Seconds later, the hug is over, and Renjun's father examines you.

You smile sweetly, holding his hand out for him to shake. Renjun's dad raises his eyebrows, grins, then shakes your hand aggressively. "Son, I gotta say-"

"Please refrain," Renjun pleads, and pulls you into the house. You both take your shoes off and enter the living room containing Renjun's mom who quickly fluffs out the pillows, then turns to you.

"It's great to meet you," she says, shakes your hand and throws Renjun a wink. Renjun cringes. He really loves his parents – well, his mom first and foremost, but yeah – but they have a disgruntling tendency to embarrass him. His mother, the social butterfly she is, immediately picks up a conversation with you and, to Renjun's upmost joy, you seem thrilled about it, your eyes sparkling as you talk to his mother. It's good, don't get him wrong, but beyond the surface, it's bad. There is a reason Renjun brought you here, well, not that it's the sole reason, but Renjun still needs to find out what it is that you do for a living, and when he gets blinded by this mind-numbing feeling of being absolutely in love with the way you get along with his mother, the dearest woman in his life, he will forget about it.

Hence, he excuses himself to see his father in the kitchen, preparing the food. Not that any of you or his mother would even notice his absence as Renjun's mom is already on her way to the shelf in the corner to pull out photo albums containing Renjun's best and worst memories growing up. But even as he stands in the kitchen, his gaze darts over through the open door to investigate your figure hunched over the printed stages of Renjun's puberty, giggling wholeheartedly over his mother's remarks about all of his friends in the past. His mother has always been good with names and faces.

Even later at the dinner table, Renjun is not able to concentrate one his father's cooking, or the light conversation taking place over the amount of food on the table that could feed an entire baseball team for three weeks. There is only one single thing on Renjun's mind: what is it that you are hiding?

Thankfully – might it be the telekinetic bond he has with his mother or just simple human interest – Renjun's mom, after a minute of silent munching, pipes up and throws the question into the room.

"Our Renjun worked hard to be a freelancer," she chuckles and briefly touches Renjun's forearm resting beside his plate, causing Renjun's ears to pipe up and his eyes to widen. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Renjun feels as if time stops, presumably because it does take you a little while to answer. You visibly gulp at the question, eyes avoiding every person at the table. "Well," you begin, then look up at everyone. You blink a few times and wet your lips before continuing. "I recently lost my job and am looking for something else at the moment." Your gaze catches Renjun's who can't hide his surprise. "Which is why I am extremely grateful for Renjun being there for me right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Renjun's mom comforts, a sad look on her face.

"It's okay. I mean- the firm had to ax jobs because of insolvency, so there wasn't really anything I could do about it." You nod to yourself. The following awkwardness lies heavily in the air, and before Renjun's father can even think about bringing alcohol to the table, his mother pipes up once again.

"Don't worry about it, dear. You are still young, there will be lots of job opportunities in the future, I'm sure of it," she smiles encouragingly and you manage to send a slight smile back. "Which reminds me!"

This time, Renjun's mom playfully pinches her husband's shoulder who dramatically mewls at the action. "We were just your age when we met!"

"Oh, really?" You smile widely, interested in the story Renjun's mom tells next, going into almost every detail regarding their first encounter. Renjun, having listened to this exact story countless times, relaxes in his seat. He feels a bit bad that he basically forced you to reveal this probably embarrassing detail about yourself in front of his parents the first time you meet them, but a much bigger part of him is just relieved since, basically, this explains it all. Maybe he should feel a bit used, a bit hurt that you didn't trust him enough to share this detail of your life with him, but on the other hand: he is just glad you're not secretly a serial killer or do porn. Not that there's anything wrong with that, he'd just like to know.

In the midst of his mom's speech, he catches your eyes and sends you a gentle smile which you reciprocate. His hand gently squeezes your thigh under the table, and he is pleasantly surprised as your hand finds his, casually interlocking your fingers with his and putting them on display on the table top.

"Well, good thing you met him before the year ended," Renjun's mother finishes. Renjun's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Why would she bring that up?

"Why? What's happening at the end of the year?" You ask curiously.

"Christmas!" Renjun says, a bit too loud maybe, since all eyes are on him all of a sudden. "You know, cuffin' season. Heh..."

The day ends pleasantly. Renjun has to fight both of his parents off as they try to make you stay over night or "at least for another shot". Oh no, he has to get you home and, to be completely honest, right into his bed, or preferably the closest surface to the front door that you're willing to take him on. Not even the little remark his mother had whispered to him as he was waiting by the door for you to finish up in the bathroom can make him want you any less right now: "I'm so sure I know her from somewhere."

_____

Days pass and Renjun is on cloud nine. Things are going absolutely great with you, you do fun stuff together, and Renjun can have his little daddy moments every once in a while when you ask him to help you with your job search. He feels giddy all over when he goes to bed, and possibly even giddier when he wakes up to you soundly snoring in his arms. Life is perfect.

But Renjun wouldn't be Renjun if he didn't worry about something, and this time it is the last obstacle to overcome for this to be the absolute perfect relationship: you have to vibe with his friends. Well, first of all, he himself has to start vibing with all of his friends again. He has not seen or heard of Jaemin since he met him that day, and Donghyuck had either forgotten to corner the younger male, or forgotten to tell Renjun about it (classic Donghyuck).

Hence, Renjun calls Donghyuck (so he can't forget to respond to his messages) and makes a plan to meet. Said meeting actually occurs on the same day since Donghyuck feared Jaemin would flee the country if they didn't hurry.

About an hour later – and don't ask him how he convinced you to do this (he might have been using the short post-orgasm timeframe to suggest it when your mind was still cloudy and you were grinning like you were out of your mind) – you appear in front of Donghyuck and Jaemin's apartment.

Before Renjun can even reach out to ring the doorbell, Donghyuck rips open the door, shushes the both of you and hurries you inside. Shoes off, you all meet at the stinky kitchen table and Renjun is reminded of his first encounter with you that he had spilled about at this very table. He finds it a funny little memory.

"Jaemin is in his room," Donghyuck whispers and Renjun can smell the garlic fried chicken he must have had earlier in his breath.

"You didn't tell him we were coming?" Renjun whisper-shouts back and purposely avoids looking at you because he already knows of the disapproving stare the back of his head is receiving right now.

"One: he just had a girl over, and even though I seem like the type to barge into a room that reeks of sex to witness Jaemin balls deep in a chick, I've seen enough of that. Two: if I had told him, he would've possibly taken off no questions asked," Donghyuck reasons and Renjun has to, once again, question why Donghyuck always has to verbally visualize all the tmi details of his speech. Renjun turns to look at you, and you look unsure. Although you had voiced your concerns on the way here, and Renjun had to make you promise not to bail on him, he gets where you're coming from.

Taking you aside (turning around since Donghyuck is openly swiping on his tinder right now that Renjun knows he hasn't set an age limit to) he asks, "Are you okay with this?"

You take a deep breath before nodding. "I want to do this for you, Jun."

Renjun has to ask himself when he started to connect the feeling of love with the desire for sex because why is the first though that comes to mind to bend you over the sticky counter and have his balls slap against your thighs? On that note, he also should stop hanging out with Donghyuck so much if this is how his mind describes sex...

Instead, he presses a kiss to your lips, and apparently Donghyuck's forgotten about his rule of being quiet because he 'ooohh's and laughs dirtily. Renjun simply pays him no mind, unlike you who raises a questioning eyebrow.

"I say I go in first, prepare him for what's to come, and then get him out here so we can all talk," Renjun suggests and everyone nods in agreement. "And Donghyuck-"

"Hm?"

"Leave my girlfriend alone while I'm gone." Renjun squints at Donghyuck.

"I'll try my best." Donghyuck winks at him before brushing his tongue over his front teeth and then biting the air in your direction. Renjun cringes.

"I can defend myself, don't you worry," you confirm with a smile and Renjun wants to kiss the floor you're walking on. Well, maybe not this floor since he is sure that ketchup stain by the fridge has been there since they moved in and got McDonald's on the first night.

"Oh, you know martial arts?" Donghyuck questions with raised eyebrows and great interest.

"No, but I can aim for your balls!" You explain, nodding excitedly.

"Be careful, he might enjoy that," Renjun comments before leaving towards Jaemin's room. He can hear Donghyuck silently arguing his statement in the background before promising you that he would not enjoy that, even though everyone present knows that's a lie. Renjun giggles one last time before turning the corner and stepping into the narrow hallway leading to Donghyuck's and Jaemin's bedrooms while wishing they would open a window every once in a while.

The few steps to Jaemin's door seem endless, especially as Renjun walks past Donghyuck's room that he had forgotten to close the door to, greeting Renjun with the pleasant sight of a fleshlight. Renjun whines quietly, but realizes nonetheless that he is happy to be Donghyuck's friend. He might be disgusting, but it's actually kind of funny.

So, without proper preparation of what to say, Renjun arrives at Jaemin's door. His hand hesitates in front of the "alpha male", "gym bro" and "Fortnite" stickers on Jaemin's door before he actually manages to knock.

The second Jaemin takes to offer him to enter stretches like gum.

"Did you forget something, bunny?" Jaemin asks as soon as the door opens. Renjun is greeted with the sight of Jaemin's massive back facing him as he sits at his desk, an online poker game decorating the large screen in front of him.

Given the nickname, Renjun doubts that Jaemin has any clue that it's him in his room right now. He tries to think of a cocky answer, but he has never been the spontaneous type, so all that comes out is "call me bunny one more time and i might kiss you" and Renjun has no idea where that came from. Still, it does the job of making Jaemin spin around in his chair, eyes wide in shock as he sees Renjun (and not bunny) stand in the doorway.

It's been a while since Renjun's seen Jaemin, and that might be one of the reasons why he finds himself staring at the younger's chest muscles for a bit too long for it to be a coincidence.

Once he's managed to peel his eyes off of Jaemin's nude upper body (he is glad he's wearing boxer shorts, at least) he aims to say something again since Jaemin's sure taking a long time to respond.

"Good day, sir," Renjun says and frowns at how awkward he is. Finally, a chuckle escapes Jaemin. Renjun also isn't sure why he's being so nice to Jaemin. Last time he checked, he was furious and wanted Jaemin to suffer a pussy-less summer. Maybe it's because everything else is perfect right now, and he doesn't have it in him to feel angry anymore.

"Hello, Jun," Jaemin finally says before getting up and wrapping his meaty arms around Renjun who experiences a weird mixture of relief, a spark of arousal, and the feeling of being crushed to death, so he just gently pads Jaemin's body in return. When Jaemin finally lets go of him, holding him by his shoulders and gently shaking him, Renjun reminds himself of all the disgusting things in this room alone so he can stop finding his best friend hot (namely: the dead cactus by the dirty window, the trash can that's spilling over with used tissues and condom wrappers, the countless empty bottles scattered around the place, most of which still containing an unnaturally colored fluid and some of which sporting little white clumps, the pin-up-girl-posters, the old gym socks all over the floor that he can smell from here, and the thick layer of dust on- basically everything Jaemin doesn't touch every day). It helps.

Jaemin steps back, opens a window and lights a cigarette.

"So, uh," Renjun starts, "don't freak out."

Jaemin nods and smiles.

"But I'm here with," Renjun halts to force down a smile and fail, "with my girlfriend. And don't feel pressured right now! It's all good. But we.. we came to talk things out."

Jaemin is not smiling anymore, but nods nonetheless. Renjun feels a bit bad, a bit selfish, even.

"Would you, uh-" Renjun scratches the back of his head before stepping towards the window as well because the distance is making him feel a lot more awkward "Would you mind telling me what happened? Back then?"

"She didn't tell you?" Jaemin questions, and Renjun is trying his best to decipher how Jaemin is feeling right now. Is he upset? Does he care?

"She did, but... I wanted to hear your side of the story. You're my best friend, after all," Renjun admits, eyes wandering around the room awkwardly before looking at Jaemin again. He is a bit glad his fingers find an old gum wrapper on the window sill to fiddle with. "I know it probably didn't feel like that for you in the past weeks. I'm sorry. It should've been bros before hoes but-"

"I know, you're a hopeless romantic, Jun," Jaemin reasons, "no need to apologize. I guess I just didn't like getting confronted with my ugly past."

"I get that," Renjun says and smiles slightly. Next thing he knows, Jaemin's pressing a kiss to his forehead. Renjun turns beet red within seconds. "Stop it, idiot, I have a girlfriend."

Jaemin laughs loudly. "What, am I your gay awakening?"

"You know very well who my gay awakening was." Renjun thinks back to his high school days, especially that one kid, tall, handsome, loud and a little stupid. Oh, meow, his first love.

Jaemin ruffles his hair. "So, my side of the story, huh?" He leans on his forearms and looks out the window, blowing the smoke into the cold air. Renjun, already shivering a little, wonders how Jaemin's not dying from the cold right now. "There is not much to it, really. I was a horny teenager, she was a pretty girl. It was not cool of me to just – y'know – hit and run. I have learned since then. Girls know what they get themselves into when they hop into my bed, I make it very clear."

"Very noble of you," Renjun says, and he hopes it doesn't sound sarcastic to Jaemin's ears. This might not be Renjun's preferred lifestyle, but to each their own, who is he to judge? "I'm just hoping this won't stand between us."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't fuck your girlfriend again," Jaemin promises, snapping the bud of the cigarette out the window.

"Not what I meant-" Renjun says, but is honestly a bit relieved to hear that. Well, he's pretty sure you wouldn't cheat on him, and he knows that Jaemin has about 200 other options just off the top of his head, but it still feels nice to be reassured. "So, are we good?"

"We are so good," Jaemin announces with a grin, pulling Renjun into another rib-cracking hug. This time, Renjun actually manages to hug him back. He loves Jaemin dearly (platonically), even though he's a real pig at times. Renjun daydreams a bit more about how much he loves his friends before Jaemin detaches himself from Renjun to announce that they should probably head out so he can apologize to the real victim of all of this. Renjun swears he's going to twist Jaemin's nipples until they fall off if he goes out there to meet you without putting a shirt on first. Jaemin laughs, slaps Renjun's back so hard the air gets knocked out of his lungs, then complies and slips into the next best sweater.

Renjun sighs as he realizes the writings on it. Better than nothing, he guesses.

He isn't really surprised as they enter the kitchen to find Donghyuck flexing his very little gain of biceps in front of you and you booing at him with your thumb pointing downwards. Once you notice Jaemin, Renjun notices how you tense up a bit, and he immediately comes rushing to your side to feel you slightly relax with his arm around your shoulder.

"Long time no see-" Donghyuck squints at the lettering on Jaemin's sweater, "orgasm donor."

"Might have not seen you, but I definitely smelled those stinkers you leave in the bathroom for me to find," Jaemin responds. Renjun is a bit surprised to find that this whole situation must have affected Jaemin enough to not even interact with his platonic soulmate in the slightest.

"You make it sound like I don't flush," Donghyuck mumbles, but it goes unnoticed since Jaemin has now turned to you.

"I want to apologize, which I should've done way sooner," Jaemin starts, and the tension in the air is scaring Renjun a bit. "I was young and a total dick, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

No one says anything, not even Donghyuck, who has an opinion or at least a thought on everything. It is quiet for a good while, and Renjun fears that you are not ready to forgive Jaemin, which, in all honesty, is fair, given you've lived with the trauma he gave you for years now. Renjun has tried fairly often since he found out what you went through, but he can't imagine how he would've reacted (and lived on) if his first love (who took his v-card) just left without saying anything. (He had to move to fulfill his dream of becoming an idol a year later, sadly, but they're still in touch, on and off. This also makes his encounter with you on the living room floor the other night a bit ironic, but that is besides the point right now.)

Finally, you breathe in. The anxiety in Jaemin's eyes tightens. Everyone is holding their breath.

"I forgive you." You reach out and shake Jaemin's hand. Hell breaks loose in Renjun's chest because, wow, what did he do in his past life to deserve such luck. He is so happy, he smooches your cheek. You giggle, Jaemin smiles and Donghyuck hollers in the background. This little party goes on for a moment before the atmosphere relaxes again. Donghyuck pipes up again to fill the silent moment with an unnecessary comment, "is it just me or does this situation call for a gang bang?"

"Donghyuck, I swear to God, I am going to stuff you head first into Jaemin's nut-napkin-trash can and send a picture of it to your mom," Renjun hisses, but Donghyuck seems unfazed.

"Nothing she hasn't seen before." He shrugs. Renjun decides not to question it.

_____

Renjun's life is so wonderful, he wishes someone would write a story about it. With him by your side, you actually managed to get a job which occupies you half of every other day. Although, you still live with Renjun, which he doesn't mind at all. He loves having you come home to a freshly cooked dinner, to then snuggle on the couch until you either fall asleep or start diddling.

Renjun likes when it's the second option, just like tonight, where he's seated on the floor in front of the couch with your legs draped over his shoulders as he eats you out slowly and softly. Your gentle gasps are music to his ears, the prime time movie playing in the background long forgotten and tuned out as his attention is fully on you.

The slight tugs on his hair make his stomach churn with desire, hands and mouth suddenly too eager to keep his teasing manner up as he moves up to kiss you instead. You giggle into the kiss at his fiery passion, suggesting to take things to the bedroom instead.

Renjun does not need to be told twice as he pulls you against him, making you chuckle even more, and moves you to the bedroom.

Your back hits the mattress with a soft thud as you smile excitedly at Renjun who comes climbing over your body to be at eye level with you again. His hands find your hips, caressing their way upwards while pushing the silky fabric of your shirt up in the process, allowing your braless chest to meet his hungry eyes. The rest of your clothing follows suit, Renjun feeling the flame of lust relight once again as his bare skin touches yours.

"Can we try something tonight?" You suddenly whisper, gaze trained on Renjun's face waiting impatiently for his answer. With his mouth slightly agape, he nods. His eyes jump to where your hand is suddenly touching his, following as you move it upwards to your neck, gently wrapping his smooth fingers around it and applying pressure.

Renjun gulps in awe.

"Press here when you push in," you say, eyelids fluttering as you mimic the action with your fingers against his. Renjun nods carefully, pupils blown probably as wide as yours with lust and desire, heart pounding in his chest as if it was the first time all over again. He will always feel like this around you.

Finding your entrance, Renjun coats his tip with your essence, teasing your awaiting body for another moment or so until his tip catches at your hole. He remembers your words, the grip of his fingers tightening around your throat as he slowly pushes forward, length sinking in slowly.

He's not even all the way in and he can already feel you clench around him, walls hugging him as if they're afraid of letting him go, hole almost fluttering at the feeling of being choked. All that paired with how heavenly you look wrapped up in ecstasy, pretty moans flowing freely only impacted by the way Renjun restricts the flow of air into your lungs and of blood into your brain.

Renjun loves you. He is so deeply in love with you he feels like he could laugh and cry simultaneously, stomach tickling with the all too familiar butterflies every time you look at him. He can't ever get enough of you, he needs you close to him. Never is he going to let you go. He will fight for you, whatever that might mean.

"I'm so in love with you," Renjun can't hold back saying, gently gaze caressing you lovingly. The slow pace he sets makes both of you see stars, length dragging along your walls perfectly to bring you to your shared high.

And it's probably this what makes it sting 100 times more the next morning. You were up early to go to work, kissing Renjun's forehead goodbye as he was still idling sleepily in bed. His mind is still groggy when he peels himself off the sheets and picks up his phone for the first time that day, weak hands struggling to remove the charger. Although, all sleepiness is wiped from his body the second he looks at the screen.

The pretty lock screen picture he has showing you during golden hour is hidden behind a bunch of messages that came in over night. But Renjun is not interested in the four messages he had gotten from Donghyuck ("TW: dickpic", a photo, "can i send it like this or does the slit look off to you??" and "or is it just me?????") or the Instagram reel Jaemin sent to the group chat with the message "me when i was in renjun's gf ha haaa" and Donghyuck responding with "clean".

What makes Renjun's heart drop, beat 20 times its usual speed and then drop again is the following E-Mail notification:

Dear Renjun Huang,

we feel the need to inform you that during our yearly check-ups, we noticed that there has been an incident with your account. Unfortunately, it seems like there has been a mistake made on the company's side regarding your profile.

It seems that someone has hacked into our system, gotten to your private information and pretended to be your Soulmatch™.

We dearly apologize for this mistake. To protect your safety, we have now deleted your account and all private information regarding your person. Please get in touch with us if you want to press charges against the intruder.

Of course, we will pay back the amount you have spent on our Premium Love Package immediately.

Again, our deepest apologies.

Sincerely,

The Soulmatch™ Team

Renjun is not sure how to react to this. Immediately, he checks the app, but he is logged out already. He tries to log in, but his profile is nowhere to be found.

Putting his phone down, he falls onto his back. His mind is racing with thoughts, but they do not seem to make any sense. Someone pretended to be his soulmate? He has never gotten any matches except-

Except you.

Was this... all a hoax? Were you not his soulmate? Have you been lying to him all this time? Why? What does this even mean? How did you do it? And most importantly, what is he going to do now?

Before he knows it, tears start pooling in his eyes, and soon after they drip hotly down his cheeks.

You lied to him.

Have you just used him all this time? Is everything a lie? Do you even love him back? Where did the lies begin? Does he even know who you are? Is this why you've been so secretive about every single detail of your life? Because everything is just made up?

And he just let you. He put up with all of it because he is a pathetic romantic who believes in soulmates. Because he is so desperate to find love. You lied to him with every fibre of your being. And he kissed you. He made love to you. He held you and comforted you. Hell, he even let down his best friend because of you. How could he have been so stupid?

Renjun simply has no words. And he doesn't think he has anything to say to you ever again. He just wants to know why, and how, but he doesn't want to ask you because you're going to lie your way out of it anyway, no?

Shaky legs allow him to get up and walk over into the living room where all your stuff is scattered around.

He is so stupid. He let you live with him. He trusted you without question.

And you used him.

He never wants to see you or any of your stuff ever again, he decides as he kicks against your backpack leaned against the couch, wincing in pain immediately as the contents of the backpack appear to be much more solid than he presumed. His hands grab ahold of his injured foot, causing him to pathetically jump around on one leg until he gives up and falls onto the couch. Wow, he can't even have his dramatic meltdown without being an embarrassing idiot.

The next few hours he spends mostly crying or angrily pacing around. He's thrown all your stuff into a corner and covered it with a blanket so he doesn't need to get reminded of how he's just a pathetic loser every few minutes, although it doesn't help.

He is not sure whether to be upset about the fact that you can't use your phone at work or not, he only knows that by the time 2pm comes around (the time you get off work) he starts to panic.

He is not going to face you. Not now, not like this, preferably not ever. He debates if he should call you, but knowing how easily influenced he is, he'd probably let you lull him in again. No way is he going to face you, nor your voice, nor your texts. All that's left to notify you that Renjun wants you out of his life immediately is a handwritten note to leave while he goes and takes a walk, and hopefully by the time he comes back, you and all your stuff are gone.

Unfortunately, before he can even get a pen and a piece of paper, he hears the keys jiggling as the door is being unlocked. Renjun briefly debates whether jumping out the window would hurt less than this encounter.

"Honey I'm h-" your face comes into view, and Renjun feels his heart beat up his throat. He feels so uncomfortable, so bad, so stupid, so pathetic. "What's wrong?"

Okay, great. It seems to be written all over his face how his morning went.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Is all he gets out, cringing at how shaky his voice is, how weak and cracked it sounds after he's dramatically sobbed for a good half of his morning.

"What do you mean?" Your brows contort, and Renjun is glad that he for once does not feel any sexual attraction to you while you're fighting. This was too much.

"Maybe how you lied to me about every single aspect of your life?"

"Huh??"

Renjun wipes his face with one hand. "Didn't know you could hack."

The utter confusion on your face turns into an expression of shock, fear even. "Oh God, oh God."

"That's right, now you remember," Renjun says passive aggressively.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," you say, not meeting Renjun's eyes as you hold your stomach.

"Listen. I'm not going to scream at you. I just want you out. Out of here and out of my life," Renjun says and is surprised at how calm he appears.

"No, no, no, please. I can explain-"

"You can explain all you want, how can I ever believe something you say ever again after all you did was lie? Do you even love me?" Renjun raises his voice against his own better judgement, tears appearing in his eyes once again, but he doesn't let them spill out. He can't give you that kind of satisfaction.

By now, you're kneeling on the floor. The one and a half meters separating you from him feel endless, you're crying restlessly and Renjun doesn't even feel a pinch of empathy for you.

"I do! I love you, please, Renjun, please, you're all I have," you beg.

At this, Renjun feels his heart shatter a little more. Maybe he does have a bit of empathy for you. At the same time, a new wave of anger arises.

"I trusted you. I gave you everything. And you just- you lied. All you did was lie!"

"That's not true! I-" you suddenly crawl over to him and Renjun takes a step back. "I promise. I love you. Maybe the beginning was- fucked up, but everything after that was sincere! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please!"

At this point, the gates of pride can no longer contain Renjun's tears and he breaks down as well, his knees hit the floor in front of you and he begins sobbing. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," is all you reply, hands reaching out to touch him, and he flinches back, but somehow still lets it happen, lets your arms wrap around him and burry your face in the crook of his neck as you pathetically whimper into the fabric of his shirt.

Renjun follows suit. Of course, he hates you right now, but a very big part of him is in love with you – or rather with the version of you that you made up (???). Not listening to the part of his consciousness screaming at him to stop, he wraps his arms around you as well, crying wholeheartedly against your shaking body.

He has no idea how long you sit there, his legs have gone numb at this point, everything hurts, and then you finally speak up.

"I can explain. It's not good, it's not nice, it's no excuse, but I at least want you to know the truth and not whatever truth you've made up in your head."

Renjun nods. He shouldn't, but he wants you to tell him what really happened.

He also hates that you know him so well.

You somehow find yourselves on the living room floor a few minutes later. Renjun's brought two bottles of water to hydrate after that crying fest out there.

"So, the app," you start, not meeting Renjun's eyes in the slightest. "I used to- work for them."

You take some time to let that sink in. Renjun decides he does not want to respond until the end.

"There was a huge data leakage, and I thought I had it under control, but turns out I didn't, which is why I had to meet you to get you to delete your profile- it's complicated. Or maybe I just made it complicated. But that is why.. you got that weird match. Usually, you can visit that person's profile, but obviously I couldn't have you see it was me because of- our previous encounter, which by the way wasn't planned! It was really just a coincidence!"

Renjun is unsure how this is making him feel.

"Anyway, so I came over. You went to the bathroom and I deleted the app of your phone. Silly me apparently forgot that i had to delete the profile, which is why I came back. I didn't plan for us to hook up again- or whatever. I just needed enough time to delete your profile, which I fucked up. This is already bad enough, but it gets worse."

Renjun does not like where this is going.

"Obviously, I got fired. And you know my situation by now, this was literally all I had. With what I had saved, it lasted me about half a year until I had no money left, I had no idea what to do. I applied for jobs everywhere, but no one was willing to hire me after finding out why I got fired last time. This is where it gets really fucked up. I'm sorry."

Your nervous fiddling makes Renjun believe you, even though he is not sure if he should.

"I- thought that... oh, God, this is so bad."

"Just say it," Renjun says and is not really surprised by how dead inside he sounds.

"Well, I thought that maybe if I like had sex with you again, you'd let me stay with you? I really don't know what the plan was, but... literally you're the only person I knew and... I don't know, I just thought- I guess I didn't think. But then you said you didn't want to have sex anymore, but wanted me to stay anyway- so I... used you... I mean, I still... liked you? Obviously, or else I wouldn't've slept with you.. twice! I mean- God, I'm such a horrible person.."

Renjun doesn't have to say anything to that.

"Well, and then things went so great – except for the Jaemin thing – and for the first time ever, I felt loved? Because I was? Literally, half the time I wished I would've stayed the time we first hooked up so we could have a normal relationship that isn't based on me trying to save my ass and using you... But everything was so beautiful. You made me feel safe, and I pretty much forgot about the app. I really just enjoyed being with you. I enjoyed falling in love with you. Even meeting your parents and friends, how you sorted out the Jaemin thing for me..."

Renjun believes you are genuine.

"That's it... I think.. I just- I'm sorry... I shouldn't have lied to you.. I should've just been honest from the beginning and said I made a mistake or whatever but- I don't know, I didn't. I guess I was scared? I don't know.. But please, I need you to believe me when I say everything after that was real. I love you. I like you, everything about you, and not only because you're kind and offered me a home... basically, no. I like you for you. I love you. Even if you-" you choke up briefly "decide that you don't want to be with me anymore, I just need you to believe me when I say... that I truly love you. I never lied about that, ever. Not once. And I wouldn't in a million years."

"Is that all?" Renjun asks after a minute. You, looking at him for the first time, nod. Before his heart can start beating again, before the butterflies can come back, he needs to remind himself that you used him. You used him and you lied.

"I mean, this is a lot," Renjun starts. You suddenly seem to be unable to look at him anymore. "I feel- actually I don't really know how I feel, but thank you for.. being honest, I hope?"

"I promise."

"I'm going to be honest, I feel... betrayed?"

"Rightfully so."

"I need some time to think about it... Is it.. okay.." Renjun rethinks his decision of asking you beforehand, "I'm going to need to take a walk.. clear my head, make up my mind. I'm not going to ask you to stay, but I'm also not asking you to leave. Do what you will..."

"I understand," you nod, and Renjun gets up. "Wait-"

Renjun halts and turns around to look at you getting up from your place on the carpet. "This might be.. wrong? Toxic? But... can I... if this is the last time I can... if you decide to.. not be with me... can I kiss you one last time?"

Renjun feels his throat close up at your words. Either you're a really, really good liar or you're being honest about your feelings. His breath hitches, his heart performs summersaults in his chest, and his voice trembles, "you can."

Carefully you lean in, slowly pressing your lips against his. There is not much going on, your hands gently hover on his shoulders, barely touching him at all, and your lips just stay still against his. Still, Renjun feels like a thousand silent words and a million hidden emotions clear up as his eyes close to feel you against him. His breath is shaky, he feels himself getting hot as more tears well up behind his closed lids. He really doesn't want to let you go.

As you part from him, his lips chase you for a split second before he realizes what he's doing. "I should get going."

"Be safe." You nod again and Renjun hears the threatening tears in your voice. God, how badly he wants to believe you.

'I love you, I love you!', his heart screams at him to scream at you, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps out of the room, grabs his keys, slips into his shoes and jacket, and heads out without looking back.

The cold air hits his face. Yet, unlike in the movies, he still doesn't feel any clearer. He still feels used and betrayed, he still feels like shit, but he knows he loves you. But is that enough of a reason to forgive you?

He tries to be logical, debate his options, but he can't focus. All that swirls around his brain is how your lips felt on his, and he wonders if kissing you was a mistake. This stupid, romantic mind of his...

Inevitably, after walking around the neighborhood for a good hour, thinking of nothing and everything, he decides that maybe he still isn't in the right mind to make a decision on his own. But who is he going to ask? Fucknut #1 and Serial-Fucker #2? Definitely not.

Therefore, he is glad his mother answers the phone after the second ring. Immediately, she knows something is up, and Renjun repeats the things you have told him (with less sexual details, as to be expected) to his mother who listens patiently.

Except for a "that's where I know her from!" and a short explanation how she saw a picture of you amongst your colleagues when she read that article about the love app, she just listens. Maybe he should've asked her about it back then, about the article. Maybe none of this would have happened. But then, he wouldn't have you in his life.

When he is done and asks for advice, she appears calm.

"Oh, Junnie. Love can be a funny thing. See, when I met your father, it wasn't easy either. Both of our families were against us, our lives were so different from each other, and still, there was so much connecting us that it had to be fate. I know it's hard to trust after something like this, I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, but you're a smart kid, you'll know what's right."

"But what would you do? What do you think?" Renjun asks.

His mother sighs and chuckles slightly. "Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic like you are, but... people make mistakes, Junnie. The universe brought you together so many times, I think it's fate. I don't know if you should forgive her, but I know I would."

"You would? You don't think I'm crazy? You don't think I'm letting her walk all over me?"

"Not that this should matter, but you haven't been completely honest with her either if I remember correctly?" His mom reminds him, and Renjun suddenly feels a bit lighter.

"The psychic," he mumbles.

"That's right. She told you you were going to be alone forever if you didn't meet someone by the end of this year, and that's the reason you signed up for that app in the first place. And a part of me believes that that's the reason why you even let her stay with you, why you were so willing to ignore all signs that something was up. Maybe you already knew?" His mother suggests and Renjun doesn't like it one bit how similar they are. Or maybe he does.

"How do you know me so well?" He whines, feeling a bit more confident about letting that kiss linger in his mind for so long.

"I raised you!" She chuckles and Renjun can feel himself smile. He thanks her again before ending the call before turning on his heels to head back home. God, he only hopes you're still there.

______

When Renjun unlocks the door to the apartment, his hands are shaking. It took him a good three attempts to finally get the key into the lock. Admittedly, he is nervous because, well, for obvious reasons, but he also isn't sure if you're still there. Your past of skidaddling when things get serious gives him every right to feel anxious as he listens for any signs of you still being around as he takes of his shoes.

He doesn't dare call out for you, instead he begins searching the place. He's not sure what's going to happen when he finds you since, well, it hasn't been nice of him to just leave you behind, but what was he going to do?!

His search is pointless, he realizes as he steps out of the last room, the bathroom, and you're not there. Honestly, he wasn't really confident that you'd still be there, but he had hope. What raises his eyebrow is that your stuff is still there, no longer cramped into the corner he threw them in a few hours ago, but neatly sorted and packed in case this was really the final day of your stay. But, point is: it's still there. Now why in the world would you head off and go your own way and leave all that behind.

It's then when the door is unlocked once again, your figure slipping in, red and puffy eyes meeting the puzzled Renjun standing in the hallway.

"Y-you're back," you deduct correctly, taking off your shoes and stepping inside.

"Sure am." Renjun isn't sure why he still sounds so pissed when he is here to forgive you. On a second thought, maybe he's too quick with it? Should he really listen to his mom and just- forgive you? Just like that? Oh, he already knows Donghyuck is going to put out a whole speech about how Renjun is "high on pussy" and "not thinking straight". But... he wants to. He wants to forgive you. He wanted to from the very first moment he saw that weird E-Mail. He just couldn't. And now he can... can he?

"I just went out to get your favorite snack from the little store down the street.. I thought it might... make you feel better," you finally reveal why you left the apartment and Renjun's heart jumps. "I dunno, I just- wanted to do something nice regardless of your decision." You nod to yourself.

Renjun just looks at you as you are unable to meet his eyes.

"They didn't have it, so I went to the other store, the one by the subway station, and they actually were out of stock, but I begged the guy to go check if they had some left somewhere," you inform him, shyly looking up at him, "my current state must've convinced him it was urgent." You smile weakly and motion to your face.

Renjun can't keep his strong demeanor up any longer. Two big steps (wow, he has to inform his doctor that his legs must've grown a few centimeters) and he's right in front of you, cupping your cheeks. "I love you," he simply says, your face so confused that you can only stutter a few syllables before Renjun crashes his lips to yours.

And, God, does it feel good. Honestly, he has so much more time to actually think about what you did, and what it means in the future, but he needs you here with him, right now, always and forever. Sure, it's going to take a bit for him to built his trust again, but for now, he doesn't actually care.

"I love you too," you manage to breathe out when Renjun parts from you.

"I realized a few things. And I may have been a bit dramatic? But, well, I also have a confession to make."

_____

Renjun pushed the admittedly tacky (and stereotypical? Renjun did get slight cultural appropriation vibes) curtain aside to slip into the dimly lit room, although once he entered, the aura of the room changed his mind completely. It's not that he had a sense for spirituality, but he has always been deeply interested in the matter, which made him glad his mother suggested to try it out once.

So this was it, Renjun's first Tarot card reading.

The lady had been super nice, Renjun could tell by one single glance she was competent and very able to perform this life changing reading for him.

"What question brings you here today?" She asked, shuffling her deck of cards which Renjun could not take his eyes off.

"Ask about your love life!" His mom urged beside him, giggling like the sunshine she is, and Renjun chuckled quickly before averting his eyes to look at the lady in front of them.

"Just- my future? If there is anything important I should know?" He decided since that would not exclude his mom's interests.

"Very well," the lady nodded and began shuffling the cards quicker, her hands rushing until one card fell out.

"Ah, The Fool," she explained, and Renjun frowned. His mother couldn't contain a chuckle. "Do not worry, dear. This is no description of your self. Instead The Fool can symbolize new beginnings. There is most likely change waiting for you."

Renjun felt his heart beat up his throat in a positive way, making him giddy to find out more. The lady shuffled her cards some more until two cards fell out at the same time.

"Here we have The Ace of Cups, upright, and The Lovers. There appears to be a new relationship waiting for you, a romantic one."

Renjun gently elbowed his mom next to him who seemed as erratic as he was right now.

"Oh dear, The High Priestess in reverse... this new relationship might be full of secrets, which can be good or bad, exciting or dangerous," The lady deducted, and Renjun gulped.

As she started shuffling again, three cards sprang out of the deck immediately, making even Renjun feel the urgency.

"Two of Wands, The Hermit, The Ace Of Pentacles," the lady read out, sounding worried.

"Why? What does it mean?" Renjun asked, worry also evident in his tone.

"Two of Wands might represent the urgency of this. You have to take action soon, or else – here comes The Hermit – you may find loneliness. The Ace of Pentacles shows us the time frame: one year. I get the strong feeling these cards are telling you to hurry finding that love, or you might be alone forever."

_____

"So basically that's why you've been this patient with me?"

"Basically," Renjun responds, feeling a bit bad about it, "I feel like I should've told you sooner?"

"Jun, don't worry. You're not the one who messed up here. If anything, this makes me feel a tiny bit better about how manipulative I've been..." You admit, frowning.

"Well, I'm not the only one calling the shots here," Renjun summarizes, "so I'm asking you: Do you still want to be my girlfriend?"

"Are you joking? I feel like you are," you say, a wide grin spreading over your face.

"Nope, I'm super serious," Renjun chuckles and pokes your shoulder for reasons he is not aware of.

"Wow, and here I was contemplating to offer you anal to make up for it," you joke (?).

Renjun blinks at you, his smile falling into a crooked smirk at the proposal of your kind offering. "I mean... is the offer still on the table?"

"You are such a man," you pinch him, but do not reject the idea.

"What if we did it right now? Right here?" Renjun suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you closer to his body and starts kissing your neck. His tone (hopefully) brings across that he's joking, that you obviously won't do it right now, but not never either, if you're still up for it.

"You'd be the first," you chuckle before kissing Renjun's nose.

"Stop making me hard," he mumbles before attacking you with more kisses. "I know it's only been like a few hours, but I missed you so much. Let's not fight ever again, yeah?"

"I agree," you say and Renjun pulls back to look at you. Maybe this is silly, maybe he forgives too easily, but it just feels right. The look in your eyes is so genuine, as was the offer of doing butt stuff, that Renjun is just pretty much sure that this was this one big thing every relationship has and now it will only get better.

"Or is there anything else you need to tell me," Renjun teases.

"Not a thing, you now know everything there is to know about me, which, admittedly, isn't that much.. do you have a confession to make?"

Renjun thinks for a second. "Well, just this one thing. Remember when we went to Jaemin's to talk things out? He was practically naked when I went in there and I may have stared a bit until I remembered that he is disgusting."

"Oh, word. His chest is super-"

"Hey." Renjun furrows his brows half playfully joking, half dead serious. "I get to say that. You don't."

You mimic zipping your mouth shut, locking it and throwing the key away. Renjun laughs and takes your hand in his to hold. "So, all this talk about anal and Jaemin... why don't we take this to the bedroom?"

"You really won't let this go, huh?" You smirk. "I'd say: what comes around goes around. Whatever you do to my butt, I'll do to yours."

"I believe I have never loved you more than right now," Renjun sighs before kissing you once again, on the mouth this time, and he feels like time stands still and rushes past double it's normal speed. His hands wander over your body, taking everything in, feeling you against him because you are his, once again, finally. Your hands are as excited touching him, and it dawns on Renjun that you're probably not going to make it to the bedroom, which is fine since he owns this entire place anyway (it's a rental, but you get the point).

Both of your clothes are off in no time, leaving Renjun's hands to freely roam over your naked skin, and it feels just as exhilarating as if you'd never had that fight. That stupid, stupid fight, right now, Renjun can't even remember what it was about, but that could partly be because of the lack of blood in his brain. His heavy erection is currently pressed heavenly against your lower stomach as you make out wildly, and Renjun can't even think about the usual foreplay he finds so important as you start rubbing your wetness all over him. He just wants to be in you, be connected to you, feel all of you against and around him, have the both of you desperately grinding and panting against each other.

Although, he feels kind of more dominant today, maybe there is still a very slight aftertaste of your betrayal lingering and he feels the need to show you that he can be in control over you if he wants to, or maybe he just feels extra manly and prideful today after you did everything to prove to him that you want him in your life. He decides that being on top would be enough to satisfy that need, so he gently pushes you back and lays you down on your back.

His tip brushes over your clit and you whine, a sound that is music to Renjun's ears, and when you speak up and practically beg him to just "put it in", who is he to deny you that wish?

Aligning himself with your hole, he gently pushes forward, allowing his tip to disappear between your velvety walls, and he loves how your eyes roll back and you gasp at how good he feels.

"Only the tip and you're already drooling," he observes, biting his lower lip smugly before pulling back out and repeating the action of fucking just the tip into you several times before giving in to your quiet pleas and pushes all the way in.

You choke on your moan at this, eyes glazed over with lust finding Renjun's under eyebrows furrowed by pleasure. Renjun can already feel you pulsating around him and God does that stroke his ego.

Although he decides he could be having more of an effect on you right now, so he places your legs on his shoulders instead of around his waist, and practically folds you in half to open you up for him so he can fill you deeper, so deeply his tip grazes at your cervix. To intensify your pleasure, his fingers come up to rub at your wet clit, three fingers massaging the nub in quick circles, the wetness allowing him to glide over the surface perfectly.

And your body seems to agree. In no time – Renjun's sure he must've set a new record – you announce that you're ready, seconds away from reaching your high, and Renjun thinks twice about letting you taste it. Well, you did kind of fuck up, but fuck it. Renjun loves the look on your face when you cum just too much to deny you it, instead spurring you on by telling you just how good you are for him, what a perfect girl you are and how much he loves having you cum on his cock.

Seconds later, you orgasm, clamping walls choking his dick in the best way possible, the look on your face and the moans sounding from your throat so pretty that Renjun feels like he's fallen in love all over again. When you come down, he praises you and kisses you, never missing an opportunity to tell you just how perfect you are.

"More," you whisper to him, eyelids heavy as your blurred view tries to find Renjun's eyes, and he briefly chuckles before granting your wish.

"Greedy are we?" He sets a faster pace this time, balls slapping against your ass where your wetness had already dripped down and probably seeped into the couch. Renjun feels so good, so happy, so fulfilled, and he is once again reminded why it was the right decision to forgive you. He is such a man, he thinks, and is reminded of a few minutes ago when you said that to him.

"Can you turn around for me, baby?" He asks, suddenly in the mood to watch your ass as he repeatedly disappears into you, and you comply, allowing him to pull out before getting on your hands and knees. Renjun grins seeing your beautiful ass in front of him, he gently slaps it two times before gently pressing on your back to get you to lie down for him again, though this time on your stomach. He enters you again, filling you up perfectly once again, like you were made for each other, and he puts his entire weight on you to be able to still whisper in your ear.

His fingers find your hair, not to pull, just to be there so you feel it, and as he rams himself inside repeatedly, he mumbles the dirtiest things to you, about how well you're taking him, how beautiful you look underneath him and how much he just loves to fuck you. And yes, he even goes into detail (damnit Donghyuck) about how perfectly tight you are for him. A hand sneaks between your body and the couch, fingers quickly finding your clit again and you whine.

"'s so good," you say, voice trembling, "love you s'much."

"I love you too, baby," Renjun responds, grinning ear to ear like a maniac because he just loves this effect he has on you. This might just be a fantasy, but he's sure he's the only one who could ever make you feel this good. And admittedly, even right now when you're not doing much except take it, you make him feel just as good.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum," he grunts, and you whine, cunt clenching around him at the mere prospect of him reaching his high.

"Me too, God," you manage to bring out.

"Where do you want it?" Renjun asks. Although he already knows your answer, he loves hearing you say it.

"I-inside, please," you mewl, arching your back a bit more to give him perfect access, "cu- cumming, cumming, cumming."

And just as you orgasm around him, walls wrapping around Renjun's cock impossibly tight, he follows suit, pressing his hips against your ass to fill you as deeply as possible. He pushes in a few more times to really get it all in there, have all his cum so deep inside you'll still feel it the next day.

"God, fuck, I love you so much," he pants, now a little exhausted as the adrenaline washes off. He pulls out, allowing you to turn around on your back and smile at him. God, he loves seeing you fucked out like this.

"I love you," you reply, then your nose scrunches and Renjun remembers that, when you shoot cum inside someone, it's going to inevitably drip back out, and he doesn't have to ruin his couch any more than he already did.

______

Renjun's arm is draped over your body, cuddling and talking in bed after the intense 4 rounds you just had, and maybe Renjun should've seen it coming, but honestly? How could he? So he jumps as he hears the doorbell ring.

"Who the fuck..." he mumbles as he gets up, puts on some underwear (at least) and stumbles to the door.

"Tell them to come back tomorrow, I'm not done with you," you giggle behind him as you slip into one of Renjun's shirts and a pair of panties you find laying on the floor. Renjun grins and throws you a wink before turning on the speaker.

"Hello?"

"Congratulations!"

"What the fuck are you asshats doing here?" Renjun groans and hides his face in his unoccupied hand. You have stepped over and are now pressing your ear against the speaker to be able to listen as well.

"We heard the news and came to celebrate?" Jaemin says.

"Actually, we didn't know how it went so we brought booze either for celebrating or for condolences. We took a wild guess," Donghyuck adds.

"How do you even-"

"Your mom told me."

"I don't think I appreciate you being involved with my mom..."

"Your words, not mine. Now open up."

"We're not exactly... dressed appropriately," Renjun informs and he can hear Jaemin howl and Donghyuck laugh.

"Let us in, we'll give you 2 minutes," Jaemin says.

"As if I'm going to believe you'd be passing an opportunity to barge in and see my girlfriend in her undies," Renjun says.

"Open up!" Donghyuck pushes.

"We just fucked four times!" You chime in, and Renjun isn't sure why you needed to clarify what didn't need to be clarified. Especially since, except for a few cheers that die down quickly, it's silent for a good 20 seconds until Donghyuck informs you that the old lady living two floors below just came home and most definitely heard that.

"Just let us in," Jaemin shouts right into the speaker and Renjun has to hold it away from his ear to not go deaf.

"Are you okay with this? I'm sure I could make them leave... somehow..."

"Sure! I could take two more," you joke and Renjun squints at you, making you teasingly roll your eyes. "Kidding."

"Okay, give us a few," Renjun says and just hangs up before they can complain. You both run into the bedroom and get changed into relatively acceptable clothing and Renjun has the decency to at least open a window to make the strong smell of sex lighten a bit before he checks in with you again, then opens the door.

Donghyuck and Jaemin's hollers can be heard echoing through the hallways until they finally show up at Renjun's door step.

"Nice work, man," Jaemin compliments as he sees the state of your still slightly tousled hair, and pats Renjun's back. They take off their shoes and let themselves in. While Jaemin stores the alcohol they brought in the fridge, Donghyuck skips into the living room to occupy Renjun's phone charger.

Oh, no. The living room.

Renjun darts after him, holding onto the door frame to not fall from the immense speed of his sprint, but it's too late. Donghyuck is already grinning at the used tissues scattered around the place and Renjun's underwear dangling from the uplight.

"You really are just high on pussy, it seems," Donghyuck teases, clearly hinting at how Renjun forgave you too (?) quickly. "You're not thinking straight. Or too straight..."

"You don't even know the whole story," Renjun defends himself while crossing his arms.

"Don't worry man, I'm not judging. I feel like this is the right thing for you," Donghyuck says and Renjun is surprised at his choice of words... such a... lack of disgusting-ness? Donghyuck even trots over and places a brotherly hand on Renjun's shoulder and gives him a smile.

"Thank you," Renjun says and means it. Donghyuck takes a few steps back, bows, then his eyes lock in on something on the floor.

"I think I'm taking these with me," Donghyuck announces before bending down further and holding up your panties with his forefinger.

"Don't you dare-" Renjun warns, but Donghyuck already started pushing the fabric into his pocket.

"Take it out," you say, suddenly appearing behind Renjun. Donghyuck seems taken aback, especially as you step over and grab his hair. "Give. Them. Back."

You pull hard, only once, and Donghyuck moans, but complies, and Renjun is party impressed and partly enraged.

"Starting without me?" Jaemin grins as he, too, has appeared in the room by now.

"Guys, I think we need some boundaries regarding my girlfriend," Renjun hisses through grit teeth. You agree, finally letting go of Donghyuck's hair who falls to his knees. Jaemin shrugs and sits down on the couch just as Renjun stuffs the used tissues into his pocket.

"What do you say?" You address Donghyuck who whines out a pathetic apology. You grin. "Sorry, this is kind of fun," you whisper to Renjun.

"I mean if you want to, you could talk like that to me every once in a while-" Renjun mumbles back, immediately feeling you cling to his side.

"Yeah?" You bite your lip.

"There was some talk about boundaries?" Jaemin recalls and you back off a bit. "When I can't have it, at least don't rub it in my face- unless you're going to literally rub it in my face-"

"I swear to God-"

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[hannahssimblr]

It is by coincidence, not intention, I join the meditators. The sign, soul healing meditation, only happened to invite me down a pathway, shaded, winding through the banyans. I followed it to escape sun that beat so intensely into my head I thought I’d faint at the beach, and has me missing the downpour of Bangkok. It is not out of curiosity I followed the sign, for I’m not, and never have been, curious about spirituality or any vaguely mystical practices. It was a need to cool down. And now I have, actually.

The meditation studio is cool and shaded, the trickle of water from a fountain outside on the lawn, birdsong in the trees. The others shuffle around, get seated on the floor. They’re Buddhists, aren’t they? People who meditate? Well, I’m a protestant, and not even an acceptable one; unable to recite even one complete verse of The Holly and the Ivy at the Church of Ireland Christmas service by heart. I stay at the back of the room by the door, close enough to my shoes, beaten up white runners among a pile of leather sandals, in case someone will be able to tell by looking at me I shouldn’t be doing this. An imposter amongst them.

God, they move glacially, these people. Dyed silk scarves thrown across their chests, serene looks on their faces like they’re floating in the clouds. Nine others, a combined age of one thousand. These are the kinds of people I get trapped behind on the street when I’m running for the train, ambling along in groups, aimlessly gazing at the architecture. Or in the supermarket, not getting out of the way of the fridge, too busy contemplating different salamis to let me grab what I’ve already decided I want. Is it places like this, meditation retreats, where they learn to be so slow?

Ah, there he is, speaking now. The bald man with the interesting face. The guru, or whatever. Nobody has explained to me what I should call him, and I say guru, because of this rumour I heard about a lad from school. Did too many magic mushrooms and got obsessed with some spiritual bigwig in Costa Rica. Made him the lock screen on his phone. His guru, he says. Wears wooden beads around his neck and let his hair get all long allegedly. My hair’s all long now, too, actually. Maybe it’s fitting I’m here, finding my guru, too. This could be the beginning of a life changing, enriching kind of relationship. 

“Just breathe,” he’s saying. “Feel the breath as it enters. Let it soften you. Focus only on it, and let other thoughts go.”

Breathing is extremely easy for me. I just do it, like, there it is in my nose and all. Going into my lungs. I can feel that like I’m supposed to.

“Imagine you are a tree with roots deep in the earth, grounding you where you sit.”

Right, yeah. I can imagine I am a tree too if I want to. This is like drama in primary school, when the teacher put us into groups and had us pretend to be the four elements. “Jude, into the wind group,” she said, and I pretended to be a tornado until I accidentally knocked the drying art projects off the rack, getting wet paint on the side of my uniform. Insisting I did it on purpose, she sent me to the principal for a telling off. Years later, I’d feel bad for ruining the fun. I was like that; always getting too carried away with myself, taking the fun too far. Probably still am. 

“Watch the thoughts come and go like clouds. Try not to follow them.”

So what am I supposed to do, then? Just sit? Sit and breathe? I do sit, but soon the floor is uncomfortable. I shift, and the boards creak under my weight. There I am, making noises again, shifting around too much, my clothing the only clothing making any noise in a room of people, and by the way, there’s an itch on my eyebrow. What do I do about an itch? Scratch it, or mindfully observe it until it goes away? 

 A mosquito. My senses are fine-tuned to the presence of them now, three weeks in Southeast Asia having primed me for hypervigilance. Surely another person is bothered by the presence of a mosquito. It buzzes. If it bites me, can I open my eyes or move, or do I need to mindfully observe the biting?

Guru is still on the tree thing, I think, though I lost track of what he was saying. “...like the roots. In stillness, you are both grounded and free.”

I am meant to be thinking of the present moment, and I am thinking about mosquitoes. This wasn’t supposed to be hard. I shift again, in frustration this time, the discomfort secondary. I peel one eye open and peer at the others. All of them serene, hands in their laps, backs perfectly straight, their breath slow and even. Are they having some sort of experience I am exempt from? I think, annoyed, actually, at their engrossment in the process. This is it? All that meditation is, is breathing and sitting and thinking about how I’m doing just that? I expected something more, as much as I expected this to be simpler. I can’t sit for three seconds without my mind wandering. There it goes again. Wandering, thinking about itself wandering. Fuck sake.

I take a deep breath, shuddering with emotion, closed eyes twitching. Of all the skills to be bad at, I am bad at doing nothing. My life is a joke. I was good at school without wanting to be. Maths, even, a subject everyone automatically assumed I'd be shit at. Tutoring Jen back then, Pythagoras theorem and so on, all of it falling into place in my head without effort while she struggled to the point of tears. Art, brilliant. The way the tutors at college fawned over my pieces, saying things about how wonderful I am, what vision, what creativity, what skill. Extraordinary talent. And people. I excel. I wish I was confident like you are, they say, up in my face at the pub Fridays after school. You just know what to say to people, you know how to make them laugh. Funny boy, clever boy, lucky boy, so bloody gorgeous. You know I fancied you for ages, Jude, was too shy to say something. I shouldn’t be saying it, so drunk, but you’re beautiful. I’d say people tell you that all the time, don’t they? Dangerous beauty. When you look at me like that, I forget my own name. A natural leader, you are, man. You just say what you want and everyone runs to give it to you. You’d do serious damage with that personality if you wanted to. Could lead people astray. Cult leader, Turner, that’s you! Ha!

“...Continue following the breath. Now, let it flow through your arms. From your shoulders to the tips of your fingers.”

No. Sorry, no. I can't. I untangle my legs from underneath me and get up. Loud, obnoxious creaks on the floorboards which no one reacts to. The guru’s eyes remain closed and his lined face tranquil, likely treating the disruption like a passing cloud, as my stockinged feet pound across the floor to retrieve my shoes. The pile of leather Jesus sandals topples, while I smash my feet into my old runners and yank the laces into submission. I am noisy, not just now, but intrinsically, shamefully. Even the way I open the door, which squeaks on metal hinges, swishes and bangs shut behind me, reverberating through the hallway.

I pass the sign, the arrow in the opposite direction. Face hot, teeth clenched. Meditation hour, it says. It has been seven minutes. 

“Did you ever go to the mindfulness session?” Jonas says later, lying in the bunk above me, triumphant since eating a banana and not vomiting it back up. 

“Yeah, actually,” I say. “It was shit, though. Not going again.”

“Thought so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm.” Outside, the night is alive with crickets and insects that hit against the mosquito nets in pursuit of our light. “I guess you would struggle with meditation.”

“Well, no, because I struggle with nothing.”

A sleepy chuckle. “Okay.”

Too hot. I kick the covers to the end of the bed. “I can do anything I want.”

“Whatever your ego needs to believe, but nobody is good at everything.”

I grunt. 

“Does it bother you to hear this? Or do you not believe it?”

“Actually, I’m too tired to talk, Jonas. Go to sleep.”

And he does. The bed jitters as he rolls onto his side and drifts off, soon snoring contentedly while I stare at the slats above me. Think of the present moment, Jude, go on. Think of your breath. The way the bed feels. The lumps inside the mattress, and the existence of your little toe.

But fifteen seconds of trying, and I am a thousand miles away again, thinking of everything and everyone instead. Sleeping, eventually, only to escape the racket in my head. A horrible meditator. Useless. Good at everything, it seems, but the simplest thing in the world.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mlmxreader]

Closed Curtains | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

requested by anonymous

↳ ❝ Hi can I request Alfie with the prompts 300 and 301 please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Alfie just wants a small excuse to get you alone and spend some time with you.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ trauma, vague description of war, vague mentions of hallucinations, swearing, smoking, vague mentions of secret relationships/homophobia

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Shatha and her family evacuate to safety

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

"Oi!" Alfie huffed as he slammed a piece of paper down on your desk and glared at you, the light grey smoke from your cigarette infesting his beard. "I thought you fuckin' well knew that cosign got a 'g' in it."

You shrugged as you glanced at the paper, then smiled knowingly as you moved to hold the cigarette between your fingers. "My apologies, Mister Solomons, I guess I must've overlooked it."

Playfully, he narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head slightly to the left to gesture to his office. "With me. Now."

You rose from behind the dark wooden desk, your back ached slightly and your knees were slightly weak, but you still followed him; with every step, your heart seemed to get harder and harder until you felt the slight gust of wind as he closed the heavy door behind you.

"Alfie," you said softly, hardly loud enough for him to hear. "What's this about?"

"Just hang the fuck on," he told you gently, at least as gently as his voice would allow him. "C'mere, dance with me - there's a slow song on the radio."

You all but grinned as you placed one hand in his and allowed the other to sink to his waist; softly, he rested his heavy free hand on your shoulder, and began to move you around the dark, enclosed, office. He had kept the curtains shut - mostly because of the weather and to keep the sun out so he didn't overheat, partially to allow a little bit of extra privacy.

Ever since the... ever since the old days, it had been difficult for you and Alfie to find some time to yourselves, alone; even then, it had never been the same since those four years.

You pressed your head against his shoulder, and sighed heavily as you leaned into him as much as you could; things had never been the same since those years, and you often worried that it was too much for him. To put up with it.

The screaming in the middle of the night. The pains that left you gasping for air and writhing on the floor - the pains where there were no scars on your body, but the same couldn't be said for the... for the poor souls left out there.

Alfie didn't seem too bad. He had a few waking nightmares, but it was never the same as you. He would flinch if the kettle hissed as it cooled down, and would clench his jaw if he caught a whiff of pineapple and pepper - he never spoke about it. He didn't have to.

You swallowed thickly, and dared to look into his eyes as you pushed yourself away slightly. "We've changed..."

Alfie nodded as he grumbled. "Who didn't? C'mon, I missed feeling your hand in mine... don't run away from me now, Corporal."

You shook your head, daring to crack him a slight smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Captain."

He shot you a single look, and you knew everything that you needed to; Alfie wasn't going anywhere as long as you weren't, and he wasn't going to get rid of you, either. You changed, but so did he and he knew it.

Those four years had done a lot more than change the landscape; great open wounds still gaping and spewing up bones when it rained. You looked towards the curtains, and saw the sun fighting to push through the dense fabric.

It reminded you of those four years, but you wouldn't tell Alfie that; he didn't need to worry more than he already was, and he didn't need to hear more about shit that had been done all that time ago.

Everything had changed since then, but some things were still the same; you and Alfie kept things hush hush, only his family knew and his rabbi. No one else could ever know. That was still the same.

You let out a quiet yawn, and hummed as you nodded slowly. "I think I missed the 'g' because of lack of sleep..."

Alfie grumbled again, and held you against him as the song began to softly end, fading into the static and the crackling. "Right. Yeah... tell you what, say fuck it, and you stay in here for a few hours. I'll just say you're gonna help me with, I dunno, some fuckin' business bollocks or whatever... sound good?"

You couldn't deny that it did, and murmured a string of agreements under your breath before taking up Alfie's desk; you put your heavy boots on the hard wood, and leaned back in his chair as you pulled his blazer to your lap, and watched him for a moment.

"Alf?"

"Yeah?" He raised his brows slightly as he busied himself with gathering the papers that he was actually supposed to fill out. He set them up on the table on the other side of the room.

"Think we'll ever get rid of it?" You asked, and when he asked what you had meant, you rolled your eyes. "The war. Do you think it'll ever go away?"

For a moment, Alfie caught the scent of pineapple and pepper, and heard the whistling of mortars as he focused his breath, and shook his head. "Doubt it. War might be done, but it ain't through with us... don't mean it won't fuckin' get better, though, mind. We'll be alright, y'know, me and you. We'll always be alright."

You wanted to believe him, but couldn't as you clenched your jaw. "My sleep's getting worse."

"Yeah," he breathed out as he licked his lips. "I know, but... you fuckin' well know that I'll try everythin' I can to help it."

"I know," you whispered, letting your heavy gaze fall to the curtains. "Sometimes, nothing feels real..."

"I know," Alfie's voice broke slightly as he caught himself and cleared his throat. "But I love you, and I am gonna stay right the fuck here whilst you get some sleep, alright?"

"Thanks, Alf."

"Get some sleep," he rumbled. "You need it."

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: April 16

2019

hang on every word... [david/patrick, T, 761] by @startswithhope

Part 3 of my missing kisses series. This one we have the benefit of knowing was filmed, even if we never saw it. ;) Set at the end of “Open Mic”.

Mission: Craft Fair [david/patrick, E, 12,342, CW: violence] by falconeggs

When the Secret Organization of Investigative Espionage fell, the last thing it did was hide its top Operative unit, codename Family, in a little town in the middle of nowhere. Four years in the town of Schitt’s Creek, and no violent memories of their past have caught up to them, and their cover hasn’t been blown once. Or, the au where everything is the same, but the Roses are secretly the best spies in the world.

Pre-Open Mic Performance [david/patrick, G, 717] by liquidgaze

Patrick is about to perform in front of everyone, and most importantly, David. He needs to tell him how he feels and this is the perfect opportunity to do so. Here are some of Patrick's thoughts right before he sings his heart out.

What a Feeling in My Soul [david/patrick, G, 740] by orphan_account

I just needed to know how Patrick asked David to dance because that's the only way I see that happening.

2020

Cleanser [david/patrick, T, 5,136] by cypress_tree

David teaches Patrick about skincare (David teaches Patrick about a lot of things).

Diamonds They Don't Turn to Dust or Fade Away [david/patrick, G, 1,478, CW: MCD] by loveisallyouneed21

“Can you imagine an alternate universe in which I’ve actually died.”–Moira Rose Season 4 Episode 5, RIP Moira Rose

Just as you Are [david/patrick, G, 7,628] by @agoodpersonrose

“I’ll do it properly.” Patrick said decisively, “I’ll propose to you properly.” “Um, excuse you, who said you’d be the one to propose?” David asked, looking mortally offended when Patrick raised an eyebrow unbelievably at him, “What? I could propose to you for all you know!”

Today and All the Days that Follow [david/patrick, E, 8,880] by @unfolded73

An exploration of relationships, both on the wedding day and in the future.

Wrong Number [david/patrick, M, 52,431] by @deenerann

Slight AU- What if Patrick and David meet via text the first night David winds up in Schitt's Creek? David spent so much time on his phone in season 1, and WHO WAS HE TEXTING? This is my take on that.

2021

Business man [david/patrick, G, 324] by @pine67

“There was a point to this tangent, I’m sure of it,” Patrick huffs out a charming laugh-smirk combination to the audience to give the appearance that his mind isn't spiralling.

Got You [patrick & alexis, T, 3,231] by @colourcodedbinders

“Not gonna get much sleeping done,” he says, shoe laces fastened, reaching for the door, “I think I’d rather get you home safe so I don’t have to worry about some creep following you, okay?” A second goes by that she’s quiet, and Patrick almost calls her name again, patience wearing thin, before she speaks again. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she says, finally. “Well I do, Alexis. Tell me where you are.” OR Alexis needs her brother, and Patrick lives to serve.

Laos [johnny/moira, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

our beautiful rhythms [david/patrick, E, 5,708] by orphan_account

What if David's heat and Patrick's rut happened at the same time? This follows You're my end and my beginning .

Suddenly, You're Mine [david/patrick, G, 980] by @fictasticvoyage

David gives Patrick a present. Sentimental conversations ensue.

Take Me, Excite Me, Erase Me, Rewrite Me: A Schitt's Creek Smut Collection [alexis/twyla, M, 6,064] by @turningtimeinthetardis

Decided to put a handful of smut prompt requests I got in one place. Mostly Twylexis with a smattering of Ted/Twyla/Alexis. Hope you enjoy!

The Art of Customer Service [david/patrick, T, 10,750] by Woodsarelovely

"Because standing at craft services, eating a cookie in almost a single bite and still somehow looking perfect, was David Rose.This was bad. This was very bad. This was not at all good. In any way.Except it was. Obviously. Patrick couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t daydreamed a moment like this; just once or twice as his mind wandered during Miss Henderson’s drier physics classes. But, in the comfort of his own brain, he had imagined a meeting of eyes across a music store, perhaps a chance encounter on a scenic hike. He would be suave and charming and he would know what to do with his hands.Patrick did not currently know what to do with his hands." When Rose Video head office puts out a request for employees to act in its customer service training videos, Patrick Brewer jumps at the chance. What he wasn't prepared for, was his scene partner...

Word Play [david/patrick, M, 664] by @dazedwriter1

A Sunday morning trolling by one Patrick Brewer involving one thesaurus, one annoyed David Rose and one assist by Stevie Budd.

2022

Burning Through the Hours Talking [david/patrick, G, 1,070] by @fictasticvoyage

Early in their relationship, David and Patrick spend a lot of time getting to know each other in the car.

getting by [david/patrick, T, 20,261] by alldaydream

And Patrick likes to think he’s seen it all by now, not much really phases him anymore. But the sight of his ex-husband sitting in the middle booth of a run down cafe in the middle of nowhere with maple syrup in his hair is definitely something he did not see coming. or David and Patrick have a whirlwind romance that ends in divorce. Or perhaps begins in growth.

How David's Fragrance Launch Party Was Absolutely Ruined [david/patrick, E, 5,103, CW: rape/noncon]

A group of totally wasted college bros crash David's fragrance launch party. But hey, one of them is kinda cute

2023

I'll Let You Set The Pace ('Cause I'm Not Thinking Straight) [david/patrick, E, 2,693] by @fictasticvoyage

Five firsts that Patrick wants to make sure he and David take slowly, and one time they have no choice but to barrel ahead.

In Every Sense [david/patrick, E, 2,752] by @beaiola

In which Patrick considers the things he loves about David and the impact he's had on his life through each of the five senses.

2024

Well I Did. [alexis & david, G, 100] by mallpretzles

A coda to the ride back from Heather Warner’s farm.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 4 fics/14,560 words 2020: 5 fics/75,553 words 2021: 8 fics/28,021 words 2022: 3 fics/26,434 words 2023: 2 fics/5,445 words 2024: 1 fic/100 words Total: 23 fics/150,113 words

[writtingforfun]

Prey or Prayer?

OC! Marisa Hastwyck x Daemon Targaryen

Summary: Lady Marisa Hastwyck, of House Hastwyck of the Reach. First born daughter of Lord Murrel Hastwyck and Lady Lydia Hightower, second born child of the couple. Married to Prince Daemon Targaryen after the untimely death of Lady Laena Velaryon. Married at the young age of fourteen and a mother at fifteen. Her relationship with her step-daughters was strained and very one-sided.  A dutiful wife and mother, caring and loving person to all. A devout of the Faith of the Seven, her only comfort on the days the bed was left cold, even if her husband laid next to her. The very persistent shadow of the Princess Rhaenyra hunted both their bedchambers and their own hearts and souls.

Chapter 1

None so dutiful.

Those are the words of House Hastwyck. And they are words they live by. 

Like a Stark keeps his word, like a Velaryon sails the ocean, a Hastwyck is bound by duty and honor.

Lady Marisa Hastwyck was the perfect picture of the Maiden; devout, chaste and kind. Her entire life she had been prepared for marriage - her mother had made sure of that. Lady Lydia Hightower was unpleasant and highly strict about her children's upbringing, perhaps not in the best way. It was the sort of ambition that ran through Hightower blood, irrational and indifferent to anyone else’s feelings.

When Marisa was just ten, she was already made to spend two hours of the day praying to the Seven, by the time she turned twelve, she knew how to sew and embroider, by thirteen she was ready to be sold away as soon as someone wanted her. 

Which is why she had been sent to the Red Keep to study under the septas of the capital. Four moons had passed since she arrived there with her father and was presented to the King. But her father had only stayed for three weeks, and she was soon left alone with only her long time handmaid, Helia. 

Marisa was very intelligent, despite her mother’s disregard towards intellectual knowledge. She and her brother had always shared a passion for books and history, something that she thought would be rather important to maintain a conversation. Turns out her mother knew that the people of court were incredibly vain. The one time she brought up history, she received so many looks like she had lost her mind. 

Life at court wasn’t for her, and Marisa was certain of it. But how could she disappoint her parents and beg them to leave after all the weight they put on her shoulders? Her brother had been married just the year before, at sixteen, because he was found in bed with a middle class lady. The wedding had been rushed and no one even mentioned it. Now, their honor laid fully on her, since her little sister was only ten. 

Everyday, as part of her routine, she spent the nights in the library. She could slip in, unnoticed by anyone, and read as much as she wanted. And the library in the Red Keep was without a doubt the most beautiful one. History, stories, languages… Anything anyone could ever want.

This night was not any different. She picked up her book, one of the History of House Targaryen, and walked towards her usual table, somewhat secluded from the rest of the library, a book in one hand and a candle in the other.

As she made her way to the table, she was startled by the light in her seat. She was always so distracted and so sure no one would be there - after all, no one had sat there in over three moons. It was still very dark, despite the light each of them had, but she could see the outline of his body. Their eyes met and her breath caught in her throat. It was Daemon Targaryen.

“Your Grace,” Marisa quickly said, bowing at him.

He simply looked her up and down.

“My apologies, I did not know you’d be here”

His gaze fell on the book she had in her hand, “Interested in history?”

She looked down at the book and then at him, blinking rapidly, “Yes, I-” she stammered a bit and then took a breath. It was only Daemon Targaryen. “I simply believe that everyone should know the history of our kings”

Daemon chuckled at that. Someone who was not insipid, he thought. “Should you not me in your chambers, Lady…?”

“Marisa. Lady Marisa Hastwyck. I came only to fetch a book. I enjoy the library during the night, it is very quiet.”

“Uhm,” he hummed, his eyes returning to the book.

At the awkwards interaction, Marisa whispered “your grace” and excused herself, taking the book with her to her chambers. A shill ran up her spine as she remembered the indifference she saw in the Prince’s eyes. But then pity took its place. Marisa knew his reputation, but he had lost his wife and been left with two young girls. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing someone she loved and vowed to be with for the rest of her life.

That was the very first interaction she had with the Prince, but certainly not the last.

***

The King held a five day feast for his older daughter, the heir to the throne, to celebrate her name day. The only good thing about this was that her parents were to attend.

“Quickly Helia, my parents must be arriving!”, she urged her handmaid to help her with her hair.

“Calm yourself,”

“I am calm. I just,” tears formed in her eyes, “I just miss them so much. Perhaps they’ll allow me to return home!”

Her bright smile of hope and high dreams of fantasy was only that - a fantasy. Helia looked at her with pity, for she knew that the girl’s fate - the same girl she helped raise - was to be nothing more than a broodmare. And it made her bones freeze.

Marisa stood waiting for her family with a bright smile, and as soon as saw her family’s sigil she could barely hold herself in place. How she missed seeing her brother and sister! It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Until her mother’s rigid face looked at hers, the weight suddenly fell back on top of her. In all these moons, her mother had only written to her to ask if she had caught the eye of any men. Despite the sadness that was now filling her, Marisa decided to put it aside and hug her brother and father. All the words of kindness and happiness that parents should hold for their children were lost in her mother’s stone cold heart. 

“Stand up straight!” Lady Lydia spat at her daughter who quickly lost the small smile she held.

“Ignore her,” her brother whispered in her ear, “she has been nasty since-” he laughed “since ever”

Marisa giggled at that, holding her brother’s arm. “How come your wife didn’t join you?”

“Mother didn’t think she should”

“Isn’t it more disgraceful for you to come to the capital without your wife than to show she is a commoner?”

“It should be, but I was happy she wouldn’t be subjected to hours in a carriage with mother”

Loud horns sounded and Marisa jumped frightened, holding her brother tighter. The King and Queen approached the family. They all quickly bowed to them.

“Murrel! Welcome to my court!” the King greeted his old friend.

“Your Grace, what a pleasure to return.” he turned to the Queen “My Queen, a pleasure to see you again” 

“Welcome back Lord Murrel, and your family”

“Come, let us talk while your daughter talks with her mother and brother.”

As they leave, she notices the queen’s sad gaze on her. A small smile graces her lips as she walks towards them. “Lady Lydia, welcome to court. It has been a while.”

“Your grace,” she bows again, “thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. You are friends of the crown, therefore, always welcome. Lady Marisa is a delight to have in court”

“Thank you, your grace.” 

The rest of the morning was spent with her mother continuously asking questions and giving her a hard time. Even poor Helia had to listen as her Lady scolded her for not encouraging Marisa to be in court more often than hiding in her chambers or with septas. “I wonder where your father is,” she kept repeating. As Marisa looked at her family, she realized how alone she had been back home, and how alone she was now. 

Upon her father’s return, he and her mother locked themselves in their chambers, leaving their two older children outside to wander as they pleased.

“Show me everything,” Tommen pleaded as they roamed the Keep. They started in the library, moved to the Tapestries and the Godswood, to lastly stand looking at the training grounds - Tommen’s favorite place.

“What do you think? Is it everything you expected?”

His eyes shined looking at the swords and armors, “more. So much more that I won’t even allow myself to wonder what mother and father are talking about”

“I would like to know,” she pouted, unsure of what it could be.

His smile vanished and he kept his eyes low, “Mar…”

“I would!” She repeats, “I have behaved well.”

“Of course you have, you always do. But mother sent you here with one goal in mind.”

“To find a husband for me.”

He nodded, and upon seeing how sad she was, he took her hand and told her to watch as they trained. Tommem explained every move as if she had interesse, as long as she forgot her fate. She hated violence, but her brother’s effort put a smile on her face.

Men cheering made them both look down to see someone walk in. 

“Who is that?” Tommen asked.

The man looked up and then took his sword.

“That’s Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Let me know if you liked it, and if you want to be added to the taglist! The first chapter is different than the rest will be, it's just a little starting point. I wanted you to understand the dynamics between the Hastwyck family.

Taglist:

@marihoneywk @toxicberrie @snowtargaryen @bellstwd @pet1t3 @watercolorskyy @hypocritic-trash-baby @marvelescvpe @jasenialovesjinx @msmorningstaarr @angeliod @dornishannie @ewwwitsel @billyloomiswife827289301

[buzzcutlip]

congrats on 100 maggie that’s amazing!! 🎉🫶🏻

could I request carmy with a single!mom reader and they’re still kinda fresh in their relationship and with both of their busy schedules it’s hard to have any alone time and whenever they’re trying to have privacy for adult fun time it keeps being interrupted by reader’s little one bc reader’s daughter loves carmy and they’re both going crazy but also love becoming a new lil family. I just keep thinking about how carmy would be with a little kid and how he’d take over the role of a stepdad-dad 😩

Thank you! :)

I would like to say that I love kids and I worked in childcare for years. However, I'm not much into kid fics - rarely read them and never wrote one! Your prompt got me thinking so I'm sharing my head canons about stepdad!Carmy (explicit stuff behind the cut!)

You're so scared to tell Carmy you're a mom because you've started having real feelings; it's not just fooling around anymore. When you finally share that you've got a little girl, you're sick to your stomach with nerves, worried about the possibility of being rejected or ridiculed. But Carmy surprises you—pleasantly—by not freaking out at all. He nods and asks a couple of basic questions: "How old is she? Who's looking after her when you two are together? What's her favorite Disney movie?"

Carmy does freak out—once he's at home. He barely sleeps that night, thinking of all the ways the "wrong" in him or with him could rub off on the little girl once they meet. Because he's a messed-up grown-up who has no clue how to behave.

You can't keep putting off Carmen meeting your daughter after four months of dating. You can't, and you don't want to. It takes a bit of effort before Carmen opens up about his difficult childhood and messed-up family. You assure him that it's not going to affect your daughter and promise him that you absolutely believe he's a good person.

Your little one is almost four, and she's independent, sassy, and loving, so she probably understands Carmy's hesitation and worries better than you do—without Carmen ever needing to say a word. She knows he's a chef—a cook—so she takes his hand and shows him her own wooden kids' kitchen. Carmy's eyes are huge and glassy when he looks up at you, and you hold back your own tears.

The first time you witness Carmy and your daughter cooking together (not in the kids' kitchen), your heart almost stops. You know how sacred the kitchen—any kitchen—is for him, as well as the whole process of meal prepping. They're just baking cookies, from what you can see over Carmy's broad back, flour everywhere, and he uses the softest voice on her: "You make a ball from the dough, that's right. Well done, chef," and "You got it, darling," and "Good job, good girl," followed by a high-five, your daughter giggling, clearly proud of herself.

That night, you ask Carmy to stay - the first time while your daugher is at home too - and he agrees, with a soft smile and a chaste kiss to your temple. You're a bit apprehensive about having sex, anxious about your little one overhearing something or waking up in the middle of it, but at the end it's you who asks Carmen for it. You beg him with your eyes, your hands and mouth, and who's he to say 'no'? The day had been emotional and the remaints of it hang between you as he fucks you on your back, staring into your soul, reaching there with his cock too. You're kinda trying to hurry up, Carmy thrusting into you with sharp movements that make you gasp out puffs of air between the two of you. He leans in to whisper into your ear "You're taking it so well, you would take my load so well, would you want another baby, hm?" His words surprise you and make you so hot that you come with a startle the next second.

Fuck, Carmy Berzzato wants a kid with you?

[stayevildarling]

Hi, could I request something with the classic 4 (Delia, Mina, Billie and Reader)? Essentially it's one of them struggling with their mental health and the others all help them, but it's Mina, not the Reader. Idk why I worded it like that- Mina's mental health has been getting worse for a while and she's (obviously) denied it, but the other 3 finally decide to try and get through to her and get her to go and get some professional help. Thank you so much! Love your stuff btw xxx

Wilhemina Venable x Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Reader- Love and Lavender

A/N: Thank you very much for this request 💜 I usually struggle really badly to make characters suffer but for some reason this sparked my inspiration and put my other stuff on hold for a moment. I hope you enjoy

tags/warnings: established relationship, mention of depression, mention of suicidal intention, mention of suicide attempt, mention of overdose, mention of scoliosis, mention of doctors and hospitals, very heavy angst

word count: 5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples, @stepintomyworld

For weeks the tension at the academy had been charged , the academy that usually blooms with sunshine, light and the occasional swirl of magic in the air. The four of you had been beside each other for years, tangled deeply in each other‘s hearts and souls. You joined them a little bit later on, part of the academy and Cordelia‘s most promising student but more importantly and much quicker than anticipated you became their everything, making them whole.

It didn‘t take long until you became Billie‘s babydoll, so in love for the way you would support her dreams and desires, always helping her out with the promotion of her show, setting up some social media and spending hours to give her the recognition she deserves. In return, she would spoil you rotten, never not taking you out on her days off, giving you the entire world and making every one of your dreams come true.

Cordelia adored how gentle and kind you were with the students, wanting the other witches to thrive and help out some of the younger ones. Whenever Cordelia‘s shoulders had been tired from carrying the weight of being headmistress and supreme at the same time, you would be there, slowly easing the tension and telling her how amazing she is doing her job. And in return Cordelia gave you the same support and gentleness, turning your most darkest days brighter. The two of you always knew when something wasn‘t right, not just due to your magic but also the deep connection. And so you became Delia‘s sweetheart.

Wilhemina adored you and quickly made you her little one, enjoying to spend quiet times with you by the fire place, whispered love confessions and reading to you. The two of you enjoyed the silence, spending time without a lot of words needing to be exchanged. You always had her back, on a bad day you would make her a bath and her favorite meal without asking, when her calendar was busy, you would get her medicine for her without asking, taking her to her weekly doctors appointments without words and simply holding her hand. And she took care of your soul, always protective around you.

Lately, the careless times spent together, the comforting atmosphere around you four, was replaced by tension and darkness. It took you a while to catch up, reading Mina‘s silence for her usual quietness and walls at first but the smile had undeniably been wiped from her beautiful features, her walks a little slower each day and her usual jokes and bantering with Billie stopping altogether. Often she would come home so late from work, she would miss dinner, her plate still full in the morning, the baths you made for her still like that in the morning. She would start spending nights in her office rather than you three.

And of course the three of you noticed, Billie starting to lift the mood with her usual jokes but never connecting with the redhead, trying to spoil her with some self care gifts but never getting more than a quiet „Thank you Billie“ out of the woman and the gift baskets would simply pile up on her desk. Cordelia had tried talking to her for the longest time, getting her to open up but despite their usual connection and the supreme’s ability to break through her walls, it was hopeless. The redhead had been surrounded by darkness, unable to keep struggling with her condition, the physicial pain and the mental toll any longer. And of course you had tried, finding her in her office at night, trying to just sit beside her with some tea and an offer that you are there if she wanted. But nothing worked and the three of you had been growing increasingly concerned.

With another weekend approaching, the three of you had decided to take the afternoon off, preparing for Wilhemina‘s return from work. Billie had gotten some purple flowers for her, Cordelia preparing her favorite meal and some wine and you had drawn her a bath with her favorite lavender bath salts that you went to get for her. The three of you had decided to approach this head on together, knowing things couldn‘t keep going this longer, hating to see the woman you loved so much struggling to this extent. To your surprise, she returned on time, wondering what happened for the sudden change but happy nevertheless. The four of you began chatting quietly, a quick thank you and a forced smile for the bath, the flowers and the dinner.

„Mina darling we meant to speak to you“ Billie begins quietly, hiding her nerves by playing with her rings. The tension instantly builds as the redhead averts her gaze from either of you three, clearly not in the mood to deal with this subject. Cordelia interjects, noticing how the redhead stiffens further before she tries taking the redheads hand from across the table. „Honey we are only worried about you“ she explains, trying to slowly break through her walls which must be at an all time high right now. „There is nothing to worry about“ she snaps, her tone matching her inner annoyance. You glance at both of your blonde girlfriends, communicating in silence that this was the wrong time for this.

„Mina I understand if you don‘t want to talk but we are here for you that‘s all okay?“ you try gently, giving her a warm smile that you would quit the subject now and usually she would understand if she wasn‘t so frustrated tonight. „I said I‘m fine“ she snaps, her chair scraping off the floor before she leaves. And this wasn‘t so bad if she didn‘t leave her cane behind, the three of you looking after her with all the concern in the world. „Mina your cane“ you try but she‘s already forcing herself up the stairs. Your cutlery clangs against your plate in frustration, Billie already extracting a cigarette to cool off and hide her concern. Cordelia‘s eyes are filled with tears, never having seen her like this before and you turn to her before wiping her tears. „It‘s okay, we will sort this out and help her“ you reassure, your eyes filled with honesty.

The weekend slowly progresses, Wilhemina mostly hiding in her office as she struggles with the pain that is threatening to consume her whole. She had never meant to let it go this far, withdrawing from you three the way that she had been, snapping at you three, not appreciating the gestures but she couldn‘t snap out of her state. Her pains had been so bad, struggling to keep herself upright at times but still forcing herself to walk without her cane, punishing herself for the way she had acted and lost control. She couldn‘t fight her inner demons, the voices her parents had left in her early on, causing her to forget what the three of you had taught her long ago. Telling her that she wasn‘t worth love, that the three of you would be better off without her, that she needed to punish herself, for being weak. That her scoliosis wasn‘t that bad, that she needed to get over this.

She had been lost in this daze for weeks, struggling to keep her emotions at bay, often snapping at her bosses at work, not taking their usual abuse and losing her temper more. Hiding away in the office or at home as she knew neither of you three deserved this side of her, trying to shield you from this. But the voices had sounded much darker and harsher lately, giving her ideas that hadn‘t crossed her mind in years, making her feel like a stupid teenager again. She had been sloppy with her medicine, sometimes skipping it to punish herself, sometimes taking much more than she is meant to, in order to stop the pain she had ultimately caused herself by not being careful and on top of this, the way she usually would.

This afternoon, you once again found her cane abandoned somewhere after taking it to her before. And you couldn‘t stand seeing her like this anymore, you take her cane before knocking on her office door and waiting for a reply. It comes after a while and you step inside, finding her sit by her desk, her posture tense and her gaze averted, fixed on some point in the distance. Carefully, you close the door and walk over to her, placing the cane beside her and noticing how she had an open document on her computer but it being empty and confirming your assumptions that she hadn‘t been working on anything at all. You take a seat opposite her, glancing at her for a moment and the sight kills you. She looked so sad, as if she is carrying all the weight off this world on her shoulders, the pain written deeply behind her brown eyes and for a moment some tears swell in your eyes, quickly forcing them away, knowing you needed to be strong for her now.

„Mina?“ you ask gently but she doesn‘t look at you, lost in her own world, unaware of how truly bad and dark it had gotten. „Mina please“ you try again „I‘m worried about you, I know you don‘t like this and wanna talk about it but I care about you and we know you are hurting, you keep leaving your cane, you keep withdrawing from us and I just wanna help you like the many times you have helped us“ you plead. For the first time in a while her eyes flicker towards you and for a moment you have a glimpse of hope, thinking she may finally break her walls and talk to you but she averts her gaze just as quickly again. You sigh, unsure what to do, not knowing how to deal with her silence any longer. But you can‘t falter now, not when your whole world is sitting in front of you struggling so badly.

„Mina I can‘t stand seeing you like this, I love you, you are my whole world and I hate seeing you struggle so much. I know you are punishing yourself with this“ you carry on, gesturing towards her cane. „I know you don‘t want to withdraw from us but please come back to us.. to me.. I miss you“ this time the tears roll down your cheeks, unable to hide them for a second longer. She notices, of course she does and she considers it then, hating to see how much this was hurting you, having sworn she would never do this to any of you. The silence that follows is defeating and you sigh after a while before getting up. „Please know that I will always be here, no matter what, and if you need anything, no matter what or when please find me“ you offer her, leaving her office in tears before you sob as you make it down the hallway.

As soon as her door closes and she hears the silent sob, her own emotions get the better off her and she begins crying herself, the weight of your words hitting her like a sharp knife. She wanted so desperately to speak, to comfort you and to reach out for help at the same time but she couldn‘t, her walls keeping her from doing so and causing her to remain silent. Billie and Cordelia find your sobbing form and immediately approach you but you wipe your tears, not wanting them to worry about you when the person you loved most strugged so much and clearly needed help. „What happened?“ Cordelia asks softly before you fill them in. Their concern matching yours and unsure what else to do to help your girlfriend anymore.

That night you couldn‘t sleep, Mina never joining you in bed and her absence causing your thoughts to spiral. You left bed early, much earlier than your girlfriends who managed to find sleep eventually. And so you opt to prepare breakfast, with all the witches being out and with their families, hoping the four of you can enjoy some quiet and spend time together. You prepare for a while, making coffee, tea and making the academy smell so nice, opting to prepare your girlfriend’s favorite pastries. By the time you finish, you collect some tea and a pastry, knowing it would be a challenge to get the redhead to join breakfast and at least wanting her to eat, having missed her at dinner last night. By the time you finish, your other two girlfriends are long awake, withdrawing for a bit to find some solutions.

By the time you make it to her office, you knock but without success. You consider to leave, thinking she may not want to see you or maybe she had fallen asleep. But something within you, maybe your magic, maybe your intuition or maybe your love causes you to open the door only to find her office empty. Your eyebrows furrow as you set the little tray on her desk, opting to leave and find her before you hear a faint noise from her bathroom door within her office. You knock again but the redhead can‘t hear you, too caught up in her world of pain. She had been standing there for far too long, an entire vial of her medication in her palm, fighting an internal battle against the voices that tell her to finally put a stop to this, end her own and ultimately your suffering but something holds her back.

The concern ripples through you and so you open the door, unsure what you may find but nothing could have prepared you for what you ended up seeing. There she stands, her eyes filled with pain and tears, the same empty expression on her face, her cane again abandoned near her. Then you see the empty medicine vials on the sink before seeing her shaking hands. „Mina“ you halt, your heart stopping at the imagine in front of you. Thoughts overwhelm you about how much she had been suffering in silence, how you should have done more to help and protect her. „Mina please don‘t“ you plead, your voice coming out much more broken than you intended to.

„Please“ you plead again, scared if you stepped forward that she may take them all. Your hands and legs begin shaking, feeling like your whole world is turned upside down and ultimately in the hands of the woman in front of you. Her eyes close, a heavy silence between you two and you take a chance, stepping forward and wrapping your shaking hands around her own, which tremble at the sensation. Suddenly the pills clatter all over the bathroom floor, each noise another reminder for what could have happened. The two of you stand there frozen and you use your magic to communicate with Cordelia in silence, knowing you couldn‘t do this on your own.

The supreme sits in her office with Billie, trying to find a way to help Wilhemina, the two of them going back and forth with options before your energy and voice fill her thoughts. „Delia please I need your help in Mina‘s bathroom“ she hears and instantly she rises to her feet, the concern rippling through her upon hearing and feeling your distress. „What?“ Billie asks confused and all the supreme can mutter is a rushed „Hurry“ before she leaves her office, quickly bursting through the doors to reach you both. She halts in her steps when she sees what happened, the pills clattered everywhere, Mina standing there with her eyes closed, you holding back the tears as you still hold onto her hands, pleading with the supreme for help.

She composes herself, with a flick of her wrist making the pills disappear, Billie standing there frozen in shock, unable to move. Cordelia steps forward, giving you a nod to move aside and you do, giving her space to handle this. She steps forward, taking Wilhemina‘s trembling hands into her own. „Honey?“ she tries and when the redhead opens her eyes, tears flow freely down her cheeks. „I‘m sorry“ she whispers, filled with honesty, pain and a heavy guilt. The supreme glances at Billie, urging her to take you away from here, noticing your state and how much you are shaking. „Come on baby“ she whispers, her hands on your shoulders and guiding you away from here. She takes you downstairs and you burst out the back door into the garden, your whole world crashing down as you feel incredibly sick, trying to take deep breaths in order to calm yourself.

„Baby what happened?“ Billie asks softly, placing her hand on your back, trying to soothe and ground you at the same time. „Billie“ you pant, unable to control your breathing. „She was gonna end it, she was gonna leave us“ you begin breaking down, unable to get the image out of your head. Billie instantly takes you into her arms, holding you in her steady arms as you break down, her own tears running down her cheeks, feeling the pain radiating from you and her own shock still deep from what she had seen. The two of you stay in each other‘s embrace, holding each other and keeping yourselves from falling apart completely.

Meanwhile, Cordelia had managed to get Wilhemina to sit down, despite the gentleness, forcing the redhead to open up, unable to risk something like this happening again. And slowly, the redhead began apologizing, explaining how she never wanted things to escalate this way, her walls slowly crumbling down as the truth begins spilling from her lips. The blonde listens intently to every word, holding her through the worst of the confessions, being there every step of the way. „Darling we need to get you some help, you can‘t keep dealing with this pain and you shouldn‘t have to“ the supreme encourages and the redhead finds herself nodding, knowing this was the last straw and that she couldn‘t keep going like this, both for her and your sake.

„I‘m so sorry Y/N had to see that“ she apologizes, feeling as if she only just now realizes what happened or rather what could have happened. „Me too but I‘m so glad she found you“ the supreme whispers, squeezing her hand a little tighter. „Can we make a plan honey?“ the supreme offers and Wilhemina nods, knowing she needs it and also doesn‘t have much of a choice after what happened. She nods and Cordelia offers to take her to her doctor tomorrow, knowing they need a change for her and Wilhemina nods, the supreme reassuring she would set up the appointment and take her.

„I want to talk to her“ Wilhemina reassures but her expression falters, feeling the guilt and fear of facing Billie but especially you. „But I‘m scared“ she admits and the supreme frowns, only able to assume how she must be feeling. „I‘m with you Mina, always“ she reassures and there is a silent understanding between them, that they will do this together, that they have each other‘s back. It takes a little while before they both reach you and Billie, the medium outside smoking as you lay on the sofa, wrapped in one of Wilhemina‘s knitted blankets. Cordelia gives Wilhemina an encouraging nod before finding Billie, wanting to check on her and keep her in the loop what has been said between them.

„Y/N?“ Wilhemina‘s voice softly breaks through the silence and you immediately jump to your feet, the concern rippling through you as you see her standing there. „Are you okay?“ you ask, the fear still lingering on your features. „I‘m okay“ she reassures quietly, stepping forward as her cane echoes through the silence. „I‘m so sorry little one“ she apologizes and your eyebrows furrow, not understanding why she feels the need to apologize to you. „It‘s okay Mina, I‘m just glad..“ you begin but stop when your throat begins tightening. There is a heavy silence between you two, guilt, shame and a thick sadness and neither of you know what to do exactly until you break the silence. „May I..“ you pause, collecting yourself „May I hug you?“ you ask, just wanting to hold her and fix this.

Her world crumbles at your words and the pain and fear in it, she nods and you surge forward, holding her in your arms as if she is the most fragile thing on this planet. She melts right into you, finally feeling the distance between you both fading and for one of the first time‘s Wilhemina lets you be the one to comfort her, with each stroke of your fingers on her body, slowly melting the pain, the walls and the shame away. You whisper reassuring words that you aren‘t mad, aren‘t upset and only want her to be okay. In the end, the two of you are nestled in each other‘s arms, you holding the woman to your chest, careful of her posture. And the tension and sadness slowly fades, of course you both knew this wasn‘t over, that there was work to be done but right now, she was safe in your arms and you could make sure the world or herself couldn‘t hurt her anymore.

The evening quietens out a little as for the first time in a while the four of you have a meal together, savoring the moment despite the slight tension of unspoken words in the air. Cordelia had mentioned the doctors appointment in the morning briefly, asking you to look after her witches and classes which you of course agreed to. That night as Wilhemina lays beside you, you don‘t sleep a wink, your thoughts spiraling and also needing to make sure she is okay. You stay beside her for hours, watching her sleep, comforting her when she stirs. Cordelia had gotten rid of her medicine for now, only giving her the evening ones while staying with her.

And then they leave in the morning, Cordelia taking Wilhemina‘s hand and taking a very important and scary first step. When they returned, they both seemed brighter, both of them feeling a bit more hopeful. And then the weeks of work began, Wilhemina put on some medicine, going to therapy and the three of you there every step of the way. And of course there was no magic when it comes to these things but ever so slowly, Wilhemina managed to open up more, rest and tell you when her back was killing her, being more vulnerable and open and the distance between you replaced with closeness. And ever so slowly, the three of you didn‘t constantly fear her safety anymore, knowing she didn‘t truly want to leave but wanted the pain to go and it did, slowly and with a lot of work and support but it did.

The aftermath of it all left the three of you coping in your own ways, Cordelia more anxious than before, Billie having nightmares and you hiding the pain of what happened and how you had found Wilhemina. Billie was the first one to admit what was going on, an important first step as she confided in you and Cordelia and the two of you helped her in your own ways, establishing an evening ritual with her and talking about her nightmares a lot more which ultimately helped her. Cordelia‘s was a little harder to work through but it took your words that ultimately ended her suffering. It was a conversation in the middle of the night when you told her that no matter how much she tried, she couldn‘t control those things and had to let the fear go, trusting the universe to keep you four safe the way it had been and so slowly, the shaking of her hands stopped, the constant excessive worry and fussing over Wilhemina stopped.

And then in the end came your silent struggling, you hadn‘t told them too much about your past, your struggling with mental health related things. But the image of the pills and Wilhemina had been burnt into your brain, equally haunting you in your dreams, throughout the day and especially in the quiet moments. It hadn‘t just upset and scared you, it triggered you. And funnily enough it was Mina who noticed, asking you a few times and despite hating to lie to her, you couldn‘t tell her, knowing she would blame herself and open up the wounds she had tried so hard to close lately. But you knew you couldn‘t give into the urges that your brain sent you and so you decided to soldier through, knowing you could get over this with time.

This afternoon, another normal day at the academy, Cordelia approached you after teaching a class, asking how it went and you sat with her in her office giving her some updates. She had noticed too lately and decided to ask you about it. „How are you honey?“ she asks carefully and despite knowing her anxiety and that this may get her to worry again, you needed to confide in her. „Can I tell you something?“ you ask quietly and she nods before her hand finds you. „Ever since..“ you pause, hating to put those words in your mouth but she knew, giving you an understanding nod. „I haven‘t really told anyone this before but I used to struggle too and for weeks I have been triggered“ you admit, the tears flowing down your cheeks. „Please don‘t worry though, I don‘t want to leave you I promise but I just“ you stop yourself when you find her kneeling in front of you, pulling you into the tightest hug.

„Thank you for telling me sweetheart“ she thanks you sincerly, before wiping the tears off your face. „I know how hard this must be for you and how hard those weeks have been but I promise you, this will get better“ she assures, the same honesty that reflected in your eyes before now in her own. „And whenever you feel like this, I want you to find me and we will work through it together okay?“ she asks and you nod, reaching out your pinky as the two of you had a habit of pinky promises, ones neither of you would ever break. The two of you stay like this for a while, holding each other before she presses a gentle kiss to your temple. „Let‘s get some dinner shall we?“ she offers and you nod before taking her hand, trusting Cordelia with your whole life and knowing she was gonna be here now.

Tonight had been the first normal night in a while, both the medium and redhead returning from work at a normal time, the four of you enjoying dinner together, Billie telling ghost stories and Mina telling her work gossip and the two of them joking and bantering. Both you and Cordelia glance at each other, your features filled with relief, knowing slowly things are going back to normal. That night after the bath you had prepared for Wilhemina, she finds you sitting in the library, doing some reading before asking you if she could join. The two of you sit in silence, a much more comfortable one than the weeks before, the old silence again as you both read. „Would you like me to read to you?“ she offers and you nod before the two of you cuddle up in each other‘s arms.

In the end, you lay in her lap, making sure not to hurt her back as she reads to you. After finishing a chapter, she notices how you are looking at her, an expression she can‘t quite read. „Are you okay little one?“ she asks softly and you nod but nevertheless tears fill your vision and she instantly sets the book down before wiping your tears. „I‘m just glad you are better Mina“ you cry and she frowns then, fighting her own tears but letting them fall, having learnt a lot of things in the last few months, especislly through her therapist. „I‘m glad I‘m here and I‘m so thankful you found me, I know that can‘t have been easy“ she acknowledges, instinctively pulling you a little closer. „I love you Mina“ you whisper and she smiles lovingly before whispering „I love you so much more little one“. And the two of you end up staying like that, tangled in each other‘s arms, hearts and soul, facing the same struggles but never facing them alone ever again.

[eve-to-adam]

I'm curious about your other four favorite historical couples?

My current top would be this:

Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville

As I mentioned below, in the previous post and in a few others, they were the first historical couple I discovered that managed to keep my interest for so long. A more detailed explanation can be found here. Even now, years later, I continue to explore and study them, both individually and as a couple.

A meme daddy and my favorite Queen, haha.

Richard Plantagenet and Cecily Neville

I can honestly say that this couple surprised me in many ways. When my fascination with the Wars of the Roses had not yet taken deep roots, all I could say about them was that they were the parents of Edward IV, lol. I liked Richard from the first moment I read about him, he seemed like a magnetic presence - with all his arrogance and bravado: in literature or art, I like arrogant characters, especially if they are well represented. Which is in stark contrast to my opinion of arrogant people, so if I had really met Richard Plantagenet and he had waved that ducal nose at me I would probably punch him. Hard. I really disliked Cecily at first - she seemed to me like the kind of mother who doesn't let the protagonists of the fairy tale experience their love, lololol. What happened along the way? I tried to understand her, and, oh my God, what I found during my documentation made me want to know even more. Not only was Cecily a remarkable, intelligent, brave, and proud woman, but her will to fight and endure so much loss throughout her life fascinated me. Not to mention how well she suited Richard. This couple touched my heart so deeply that I decided to write about them - little is known about Cecily's childhood, or perhaps about childhoods in the Middle Ages in general (with a few exceptions), but the fact that they grew up together at Raby, that they had the chance to get to know each other better before they got married, gave me the chance to try to fill in those gaps, to try to lay the foundations for a relationship that lasted 37 years.

Because yes, Cecily is and always will be the perfect partner for Richard!

John, Duke of Bedford and Anne of Burgundy

I haven't had time to research this couple in detail yet, but everything I've learned so far has been enough to put them on my list of favorite couples. I know very little about Anne, but Bedford is my favorite. The man gave his soul and life - literally - to maintain the entire English Kingdom in France for his nephew. When I say Regent of France, I say Bedford, because it seems to me that he's the only one who's truly proven he deserves the title - not to mention how often he had to clean up the mess at home, pfff. Big brother having big brother problems. Despite the fact that he's at the heart of political and military conflicts at this point, I could never imagine him being the heart of the party, you know what I'm saying? Tell me Bedford did something hilariously stupid without making you cringe. That's right, you can't. His whole being cries out: "Responsibility, Responsibility, Responsibility!" I have always perceived him as having a serious figure - sober, reserved, logical - which makes him seem quite solitary. I am not saying that he cannot have fun, but his type of fun always has a well-defined purpose: my man organized the reenactment of the assassination of his father-in-law and presented it to his brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy. Philip probably could not swallow his pigeon at supper. What particularly caught my attention was the comment of this contemporary:

"My Lord the Regent loves Madame Regent so well that he always brings her with him to Paris and everywhere else."

Of course, as the sister of the Duke of Burgundy, her mere presence declared her brother's support for the English. It may have been a political move - but I believe it was always more than that. I believe that in Anne he found the support and courage that he needed when the political relations with her brother seemed to be falling apart. Despite not giving him any heirs, her presence was vital in the long war between England and France, and she proved more than capable of making Philip reconsider Burgundy's connection to the English. He remarried so soon after losing her, but I'm sure Bedford mourned her death more than we can imagine. Even so, Bedford always proved to be a practical man - as always, his feelings could wait; he had put his own suffering aside for a greater cause. His nephew's throne.

Remember - "Responsibility, Responsibility, Responsibility!"

Henry VII and Elizabeth of York

I don't think I can say more than I have already said. I know the most important details about them, although, as I have argued before, I prefer to think of Elizabeth as a daddy's Princess, even if being the wife and Queen of a King is a rather tempting prospect. Their marriage ultimately succeeded in ending the civil war. To a point, you could say that Henry and Elizabeth are polar opposites. Hot and cold. This is because Elizabeth had a lot of affection to offer - growing up in a loving family, living in a protective environment, surrounded by siblings, was exactly what Henry, who had lived and grown up in exile, with an uncertain future, needed at that time. It is for this reason that I choose not to consider the scenarios in which she and Margaret Beaufort were in constant conflict. There may have been some friction between them, perhaps they sometimes vied for the King's affection, but I doubt that the matter degenerated to the point where the two women came to detest each other. Moreover, there is ample evidence to show that they had a fairly smooth collaboration. No one can deny that his intentions regarding a union with Elizabeth were purely political - at least at first. I do not want to say that Elizabeth was the one who taught Henry to love, but I want to emphasize that Elizabeth used both her life experience up to that point, and the model of her parents, to make the marriage with Henry work. Henry, like Edward IV, had been declared King of England by right of conquest, so she understood what was expected of her - without forgetting her true value, she was determined to become what her husband needed her to become.

This will be quite surprising, but…

Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester and Eleanor Cobham

And I say this because the interest in this couple only began when I initiated the process of writing the book Proud Cis. Suffering a defeat on the Continent, Gloucester chooses to flee back to England, and instead of his so-called wife, he takes his mistress with him; later he initiates the annulment of his marriage to Jacqueline of Hainault, so that he can marry, instead, Eleanor Cobham - a rather controversial situation, as only Humphrey can do, pfff. Unlike her husband - and this is a moment of honesty - I will say that the only thing I knew about Eleanor was that she had been accused of witchcraft against Henry VI, but when I introduced her into my story, I had to go deeper to discover the real Eleanor, who was beyond all the prejudices and accusations that had been made against her over time. I think that, against all expectations, the two of them formed a harmonious couple - Humphrey seems to have had a genuine affection for her; I have no interest in presenting Eleanor as a victim, she was clearly an ambitious woman, so I am sure that part of her mind rejoiced when, in 1435, Gloucester sought to secure her future in the event of his death, so that she could enjoy absolutely all his properties for life. To be clear: she was ambitious, but not treacherous, so there is no need to imagine that her affection and respect for Humphrey was only a delusion. Or that she really wanted Henry VI dead. I think they both had interests in common and her ambition matched his.

Side note: Maybe it's just my perception, but what I like most about Humphrey is that, despite his apparent talent for making enemies, he seems to have been the fun uncle. Unlike Bedford, he tries to make Henry experiment with all sorts of things, hahahah.

I remember reading at one point that Eleanor might have been illiterate - allow me to disagree. She may have been of a much lower rank than he was, but I doubt that Humphrey, with such a vast library, surrounded by poets and humanists, with his interest in learning (these people transformed La Pleausanse into a center of art and intellectual activity), would have taken an ignorant woman as a wife. She may not have been on Humphrey's level, but I tend to think that she was more than just a pretty face. And the idea that he taught her to read is out of the question, lololol.

[the-paper-shredder]

Deltarune Chapter 3 & 4 Thoughts

Uhh. Warning for spoilers? Don't look at this unless you've already played/watched all of it lol.

I need to hug Kris, Susie, Ralsei, and Noelle RIGHT FUCKING NOW. HOLY SHIT. I FEEL SO BAD FOR ALL FOUR OF THEM THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD IN THE WORLD.

Also Susie and Kris are incredibly hilarious, both together and on their own.

I called it. I called Tenna being an insect and not a snail but BARELY ANYONE LISTENED!!! I ALSO CALLED TENNA HAVING ABANDONMENT ISSUES AND PARALLELING METTATON!!! I WAS RIGHT!!!

Also Tenna is so fucking funny. Also the 'A' in Ant stands for ADHD because good lord is he practically all of my ADHD traits turned up to a million.

Also Tenna is a child of divorce. It's like he's simultaneously Kris and Asriel's weird uncle and estranged older (by at least a decade) brother.

The Spamton references go so fucking hard. Also never in a million years did I expect Spamton to actually make a serious cameo appearance. My aroace headcanon for him remains but queerplatonic spamtenna has been rotting my brain too.

They call Tenna and Spamton the abandonment issues duo 🔥🔥🔥

I love the weather duo. I'm also so glad they got back together in the end. ALSO STARWALKER JOINING THE WEATHER DUO'S RELATIONSHIP??? Love wins. I think their ship name should be starweather.

The Roaring Knight is genuinely SO fucking cool??? Hello???

I was right about Chapter 4 Church Dark World.

I love Moss Duo (Kris+Susie) and Suselle.

The cat family's surname being Cattenheimer took me out. Memelord Toby Fox strikes again.

Having Mayor Holiday's name revealed to be Carol and also straight up see her later in Chapter 4 is just so damn cool. I'm so interested in what her deal is.

Not surprised that Berdly didn't appear much in these two chapters, but considering everything that happened in Chapters 3 and 4, I'm glad he wasn't too involved.

Also I somehow have even more evidence for Berdly being aroace. “Where’s my barf bag” to the idea of Susie liking him romantically... I know what you are.

Not only did Seam get more dialogue, but Addisons got mentioned, Jevil got more lore tidbits, and Swatch also got some mentions/dialogue? Peak.

Also the Addisons making the training dummy look like Spamton breaks my heart.

Tenna technically-kinda replacing Jevil as a jester makes me giggle.

This is a theory but (the original) Mike is 100% AWOL/MIA.

The lore tidbits about Dess are making me go insane. She's just like me for real...

“[our name], we need to vent”

When I put “Gerson references” on my bingo card I was not expecting him to straight up just appear in-game and, not only that, be Chapter 4's Superboss. (Or, as I want to call them, Shadow Bosses. Because... shadow crystal... haha...)

Also glad to see more soul modes.

Finding out not only was Dragon Blazers based on Lord of the Hammer, but Lord of the Hammer was based on the prophecy. That makes me fucking insane.

Uhh I have nothing else to say currently so that's it for now.

[lupi-usque-ad-finem]

✦☾ welcome home, cubs! ☾✦

pleased to have you! i’m Yré, your favorite wulver this side of the river :)

✦ ☾ . * ✦

✦ ☾ . * ✦

info ab me!

i have been a part of this community/kinning for over a decade now, hence i created this blog to give help, advice, encouragement, and support to any of those who need it! my inbox & messages are always open to help with any kind of kin related matters. this space is for my kintype and will be filled with caninekin adjacent posts if that is up your alley.

Therianthopy and it’s components have been a huge part of me as long as I’ve been alive. It’s an essential part of explaining how I behave put into language, as the feelings and experiences of how I feel inwardly cannot be fully communicated verbally, but can be spoken about in common level and specific terms to guide to a general understanding. I learned early on that I always acted more animalistic than others—especially as a child. I favoured running on all fours, yipping and barking when I became happy or excited, howling as a greeting or whistling for communicating over long distances (creds to dad for that one), growling, biting, or clawing as a means of displaying anger, annoyance, or rage, learning how to climb before I could walk, etc. These behaviours have been a part of me as long as I can remember, and will continue to be as long as I live. Though years of bullying put me in shame about it, I could not nor would not ignore how it always felt natural to communicate and behave this way, and luckily my family and friends have always been accepting and accommodating of my behavior, never forbidding me from how I express myself as they understand I am most comfortable through it. I’ve learned I can exist happily this way.

they/he

Muscogee-Irish

sfw blog

wolfkin/werewolfkin

wulverkin

dire wolfkin

Growing up I never understood gender rules or stereotypes. All the “rules” felt so convoluted and made up as I never felt I identified with either side of the gender binary. I always felt the body I have is just one I happen to inhabit. I understood the concept of ‘social gender’ as learned behaviour and displays, one that I nor my family cared much for obeying. I was raised in thought of modern day femininity and masculinity to not be a personal necessity, but that it was simply a social aspect of adherence. Instead, the individuality of masculinity and femininity became important in my development of forming an inward balance between the two, grappling with how the world taught me to be and how I knew I truly was, and my parents had the very same sense. They had far more important things to worry about than socially gendering their little ones, they were busy raising us cubs! With this in mind, my family instead taught us to embrace ourselves and everything we entail. I remember watching my mother’s uncanny ability to be a speaker to every animal taught me true empathy, to understand the everything has a soul, feelings, and heart. My father’s unwavering love for his lifemate and cubs taught us to love our inner children and gave me the ability to understand myself, knowing I would have support from them. When I discovered how I felt inside had words to it, it felt like my eyes were opened for the first time, and knowing they would accept my innermost self has been all I need to know. My relationship towards my physical form and my emotions have become deeper and more spiritual as I grow, but the word ‘therian’ is as close as I can get to identifying my inner state verbally. It is outside ‘human’. *kinning is not always inherently related to one’s spiritual journey/gender identity, but can be for many. my kinship and duel spirituality are separate whilst being shared through language expression. free to ask any questions!

all therians, otherkin, alterhumans, nonhumans, lycanthropes, endels, extranths, polymorphs, vampires, werekin, paleokin, fictionkin, plantkin, objectkin, conceptkin, voidkin, othervague, hybrids, otherhearted, fictionhearted, furries, and those that are questioning are more than welcome here!