#the horror of it all. the foreboding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinycatharsis · 4 months ago

Text

I have perished. bury me with this story.

I've never started my comments from the synopsis but hold on-

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.

if I saw sunghoon, I'd jump on that dick too every chance I get.

dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls

everyone, MOVE! 🫷😼🫸 this speaks to my soul. this was dedicated to me, y'all. all the evil I collected like cursed artifacts has now coalesced into the core of my being.

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.

i wanna be saveddddd (by sunghoon, specifically)

she's just like me. evil. but do we really need saving? Idk I really dont fw the dad.. he's giving me weird (in a non-likable way)

initially with the first song and the scenes slowly coming together, I was like okay.. okay.. and then as the passages go on, there's a slow unease building up ☺️ (notice how i used a happy emoji because Im psycho but whatever)

Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd.

omfg, it's always the same brainless followers. like a cult

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.

I FUCKING KNEW IT. fuck m*n. (I suggest that we pick 100 random dudes every month and sacrifice them to whatever deities are out there, maybe that will help with the famine)

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.

it's because his foul energy was thinning out and no longer poisoning the soil 🥰

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.

chat, I don't think this is supposed to hit this hard.

also, that I do not think she was born resilient. she had to become resilient. to continue living. to survive. to making breathing a little easier.

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.

me in middle sch omg. why is this just a reflection on my life. it reminds me of the kdrama it's okay to not be okay also when mc was younger and she tore off the butterfly's wings in front of her love interest. peek me, when I read this para-

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.

first of all, fuckkkkk the dad. omfg can he die

and second of all, my baby :( that last line to this paragraph, jesus christ.

“I know no punishment, only mercy.”

ofc, that bitch says that.

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.

abandoned? yeah, me too. pass the bottle 🍾

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.

it's giving, "when my day is bad but I'm literally badder" don't cry bbg, u a thug.

Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love.

idk if it's sad or sadder if she deludes herself that it is love in some sick way. especially because no one seems to have offered her any semblance of it her whole life. not her family members. not any friends. not even herself, perhaps.

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

seventeen, right here! sorry, this fic is so bleak and depressing (I love it). im grabbing onto any happy ref I can make

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.

the way she has to teach everything herself and form her own perception of the world because no adult guided her :/ man, everything in this fic be hitting me like a truck. and I'm sure the truck would've hurt less.

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.

so um, serious question. when do I get to see the dad tied up and burned at stake????? hello? hey, wait- don't leave!

also, what a stingy ass lil bitc-

And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery.

that's so me coded. knew I'd love her. and I do.

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.

that would drive me to write more hedonistic shit so he'd get a heart attack on the spot and go into a coma. (and possibly, never wake up)

daddy on life support, and guess who abt to unplug it

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.

this was actually my personal statement fkhkjagh major flashbacks 😭

He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter.

men always preaching they're a child of god and doing the most diabolical shit wbk

A part of you liked his mean words.

SHE'S JUST LIKE ME.

It was so rare for him to use such colorful language.

I smelled the baddie from five paragraphs up.

A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected.

what the fuck, he's way more weird and psycho than her. BRUH

welcome to another day of men doing sm weird shit and getting away with it and a woman dared to breathe, and she's labeled a witch.

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.

oh, dear.

good riddance that fucker finally left.

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.

my shayla :( it's okay, come here. I'll hold you.

I don't like hearing abt the dad's success like omg. it reminds me that so many ppl in our lives that are really awful humans do get away with stuff and are living comfortably. it unnerves me.

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?

"he needs me, he needs me, he needs me, he needs me, he needs me" playing during this scene is crazy work.

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

OUCH???> unprovoked? (I guess, not entirely but)

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 needs me is still playing just so yk 😁

omf- they even have sacrificial tree? WHY ARE THEY SO FUCKED.

She might as well be a sheep too, you think.

the blind obedience is crazy. and the irony that she tends to sheep and comparing her to one????

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly.

it's time for you to die. pls, el, I hate him sm SDFJHSAKJ

Maybe you’re a lamb too. Maybe all your father really was is the executioner.

THE METAPHOR???????? such, strong intense symbolic weight in every line and sunghoon isn't popped up yet. el, im gonna be dead by the end of it. won't i

THE BIBLE VERSE TOOK ME OUT STOP.

the strong imagery you painted in the 'cleansing' scene, my god.

You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt.

he's just a lil piece of shi. lmao I just noticed how many comments im making are abt him. im enraged, too. god, damn it.

it’s nice to be heard, noticed.

I see that this is a recurring theme in your works (happy happy happy *inserts that one tiktok viral cat meme*) lowkey upset I can't insert the video w the sound but this will have to suffice.

He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him.

this is the first time I've genuinely smiled since I started this fic, help

I felt like smth was pressing down on my windpipes and Im finally allowed to breathe.

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

OMG I HAVE THE PERFECT MEME FOR THIS. #need this to be sunghoon and mc. I love it when people are a little terrified. esp the love interests.

also, just the fact that their introduction is so bizarre. he ain't ever had a woman like mc (me!)

your creativity in even coming up with this, im so glad there's a roof over my head. otherwise, I would've been blown away to an entirely different realm.

maybe I need to read more physical books but smth abt their first meeting being like this scratches something in my brain, makes me giddy even. is that weird? (actually, don't answer.)

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

I LOVE THE WOLF AND THE LAMB SYMBOLISM AND IMAGERY SO FUCKING MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA. the way this is the first I typed in all caps. just like mc, Im finally starting to have fun too.

omg. ofc, jake makes a split second cameo. will sh be the best friend in the next fic 👀

Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops.

can he fertilize my eggs next-

sorry, Im so deprived of everything 😭

His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too.

i know what I can stain him with next.

also that im such a sucker for symbolism.

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.

is this where they're fucking. HELP ME WHY IS THIS ALL I THINK ABT.

He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance.

that's cute.

He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either.

I see the picture you're painting with this.

I LOVE IT WHENEVER THE DEER POPS UP IN THESE KIND OF SYMBOLIC FICS.

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?”

just know vacillator started playing during this scene and the drums felt like sunghoon's heart beats. I WAS GONE.

There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming.

lowkey, I need my partner to be a little scared of me. mc, can u hit me up next

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.

HE'S SO DJASKHFDJKS DVHJASFKJSHFS that last line HELP ME

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.

my fav words in one place.

I like the imagery of a burning chruch in this scene. it would be lovely.

oh, you weren't playing abt the crying and whimpering. *moans*

“That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”

DOG symbolism too, take my head. actually.

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.

the push and pull was tooooooo good.

not the satan bs, damn religious trauma coming off so strong in here.

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.

again, like the contrast dkfhaskj

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin.

I usually don't comment on the smut parts, but ur smut parts has sm symbolic weight. that one liner was crazy (as were many other parts of this fic)

“You are disgusting,” you mutter.

is this projection

“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.

I'm wowed. blown away even.

He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes.

it's giving macbeth.

He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again.

so... this is gonna be a new fav of mine among your works.

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.

oh el, you are cruel. keep going. also, how fitting it is that angel tears was playing through this.

omg even the outfit choice? Im not okay

efilwsysh playing during the scene where's she's inspecting him TAKE MY WALLET. your music taste is so good, i def stole some songs.

“Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.”

I will be thinking of this dialogue for days.

i don't know why I'm starting to feel like mc have fun in impurifying sunghoon because she's been labeled and mocked at for being 'impure' and evil her entire life. maybe she wants company. whether she realizes it or not.

it must have felt isolating to be alone, feeling like no one's at ur corner for the longest time. for the first time, she has power over something. someone.

You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way.

wow, just because you weren't allowed to cry and show emotions doesn't mean- what I meant to type was, I love their dynamic.

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.

she's just like me. we both dont process our emotions and dont cry dfahjgf like ever.

“Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.”

such a breath of fresh air from all the other fics I see *grabs a cigg*

A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth.

she really said, no space wasted! period.

He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned.

oh my god. fjkhdasfhjfhs

idk what else to type but wow, woah, damn, yo- i feel like a broken record.

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.

my mom when I try to clean anything dfjkash

but honestly, who's winning because if I block out the string of curses, someone's working and it's no longer me.

The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink.

me when I crush on someone's daughter, sunghoon is so real.

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.

I see the attachment forming. is it liberating or suffocating jdahsk

“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.

TERRIFYING SUGGESTION 😭 evil mc is my fav, ur the first to truly write evil mc for me. I love you sm for it :( (she's not evil at all. she's just a girl juggling through complex emotions because of how she was raised. but like i meant to type evil in a way that she's raw, she's herself, unfiltered, unrestrained. exploring things on her own terms. she is mean. I like that abt her too)

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

WAIT IS THIS JAKE IN THE SAME UNIVERSE, nvm on second thought, that's not possible. but real, I'm the reason jake is losing this battle tho. sorry guys, I'll tighten the leash, next time!

“She has a dad?”

idk why this made me laugh, is major fatherless behavior from me coming thru that hard, hoon pooks? 😔

He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house.

he's sooooooooo cute. this fic is reminding me that maybe I do like whiny, subby, clingy, downbad men.

HE GOT HER (me) FLOWERS?

“I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?”

omg, we're dating in his mind. how cute dsjkafh

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.

THAT'S SO CUTE. omg I need to stop commenting on every single line.

He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway.

she was just so mean to him and he's still walking back to her. you've outdid urself here. truly.

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

I've got the pattern now.

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.

so, I was right. *debby ryan smirk, brushing hair behind my ears*

A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week.

maybe, the third time I've smiled in this fic. MY BABIES, THEYRE SO FDJKASH repressed emotions, unacknowledged feelings are crazy in this fic.

the scene where he's in her bedroom and she's letting him touch the stuffed bear feels so vulnerable like she's handing out a piece of herself to him. finally. it's such a tender moment in this heavily angsty fic. when u meant slow burn, you MEANT business.

'troubled girl' seems like such a light description for everything mc has been thru :( she didn't deserve any of that. she was just a child and her only sin was being born to one supervillain and his lil mindless side kick.

I see the imagery so clearly. my eyes feel watery.

“And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?”

wait damn, I want to be hers too. threesome???

He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you.

I would give up heaven if I had to <3

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

mc be saying everything I want, unfiltered. hell yeah

“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.

I love how he cries everytime they fuck. well, not actually fuck but any form of intimacy, it's so raw. and tender. like a pulsating heart that's been ripped out and lying in the cold, but the cold is comforting.

the way they're both breaking each other and also, in a way stitching each other up because this is what they've been running away from for one and what the other has needed her entire life.

THAT FIRST KISS SCENE WAS SO CUTE STAWPPPPP. 4th time smiling, Im keeping count because this is truly depressing (I love it)

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.

so, you decided to punch me in the stomach again.

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.”

sunghoon and mc, tell me it's not accurate.

He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls.

so like if they don't get together, I will be in front of ur doors. I'll even bring a little gift.

(also, while I was putting this img tgt, I let the playlist continue. I thought the scream in heaven by solya at 2:09 was funny and apt)

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

when will I get a pretty girl ask me if she should kill someone because she saw a look of disappointment flash my face. god. I've seen what you've done for others..

him finally speaking up about wanting to spend more time with her hello?????? that's drastic improvements. HER ACCEPTING? THEM HUGGING? can u tell that I get progressively more shocked thru the scenes. twas jinja crazy. all within like four or five lines too.

but one. BUT TWO MF'ing kisses in a single night? goodbye. i've ascended to heaven. Im such a sucker for such tender moments I feel like it'd break.

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.

my girl is multitalented. I've never once doubted you, bae.

You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor.

maybe because she's not mean and sinful and her outbursts are only a byproduct of how awful the world has been to her. maybe because all the adults around her are unreliable and liars.

omg, a date! how sweet. I feel like you gutted me but now you're blowing on my boo-boos. I can't believe I typed that out. genuinely, if u respond. DONT respond to this.

“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.

me coded i swear. I hate coffee. I love tea. #twas for me.

there's a quote I heard years and years back. it was like, "I believe not every story is for everyone, but there should be stories for everyone." or smth along those lines. I truly believe hop's meant for me like. I see why you adore it, I do too.

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.

awwwwww, she's trying. she's really trying. I love that for them.

“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down.

the lamb low-key tamed the wolf. and now they're sleeping together on the grass.

so like.... when exactly do u plan to stop killing me with the symbolisms. I'm already dead, this is like you dancing on my grave.

the pet name slips so easily from his tongue. what the helllll

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

I volunteer. I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE! I'd do it for much less.

love is not meant to be violent. salvation, punishment, sin, these feel like such heavy shackles for a child her age to wear.

THAT SCENE OF HER TELLING HIM ABT THE ABUSE. my baby :( oh dear.

God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion.

WOA. I need whatever crack ur smoking or whatever is in ur water.

perfectly fits the quote, "I don't believe in a god who does nothing but watches everything from afar"

He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad.

#needthattohappentomern #manifesting

Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands.

just so ur aware, "I love you so much, it hurts me so" was playing repeatedly during this scene. emotional hp: 0. death? imminent.

“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.

this is an insane scene to write btw. but I feel like I can't say this after everything that just transpired.

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.”

oh.

#word #speak ur truth, my king 🗣️🗣️

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.

SEEEEEE, I CALLED IT. also that, like the irony that things turned out the exact opposite. i think sunghoon's presence came like a salvation to her. healed her, maybe not fully but enough. it's enough for them.

is it too early to say I think sunghoon could restore some of the light in her eyes? faith, hope, love, whatever.

And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most.

oh okay, so another punch. oh, okay.

(THIS IS NOT HATE DIRECTED TO YOU BTW, PLEASEEEE IM A STAR)

because I screamed about all the other kisses sm, their first kiss too awwww <3

her meeting jake is like meeting the family for me idgaf. THEY'RE LOCKED IN.

For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.

ah! how'd you know I be bouncing on his 12incher every night. (I need to control myself omfg, this is a sunghoon fic.. this is a sunghoon fic.. this is a sung- oh, but is that so bad?)

His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be.

ain't no way you wrote that line and believed it. college boy rooms are the messiest ever. or maybe it's just my friends LMFAO. but it's sunghoon so it's very on brand for him. he's a neat freak. and just a freak in general, but that's a topic for later.

In a way you want it to hurt more.

she's always been real like that.

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.

smth someone said a long time ago when reading from me, it was like, "ofc, because that is you. and you are kind. but I-" and it came to my mind just now reading this scene fdshfj

Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person.

WRAP IT UPPPP. the cameras u have in my room is getting out of hand.

me too, girl.

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.

this whole paragraph, genuinely what makes you think it was okay to write this???? (I love it *screams louder than everyone*)

I can't even give u like constructive commentary or anything that adds to it nor an analysis because im so like, im actually shaking.

And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too.

omg, 5th time I smiled. MY BABIES

Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker.

omfg, that evil thing is back.

someone hold me back because I'm taking out my earrings-

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.

snitches get stitches.

YOU BETRAYED MEEEE

why is her mom her second biggest opp like girl, oh my god. stop being me pls

“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.”

FUCK YEAH.

he really did kill for her in the end, or he would've. either way, a win is a win.

“Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.”

I jump in joy everytime authors do that. like make refs to their titles in the fic.

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.

human. that bleeds and bends and breaks, but is also kind, and resilient, and loving.

"sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are." "All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent. " "Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it." "He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp. " "Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away." "He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him." "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?" "You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold." "Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker." "It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him." "You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes." "His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot." "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." “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.” "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." "There was something painfully intimate about everything today." "In what good world is tolerance violent?" "Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me." "It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out." "It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer. " "Like you were carved from his rib every time." "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."

I love your writing sm. I need a sip of ur brain, please.

you are lucky. this is all the lines I could've spent another hour or two screaming (typing) about.

ending notes? yummyyyyyy 😋 I meant what I said before I added my read more, btw.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

　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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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

#“both are weirdo loser freaks” in the fic tags THAT'S ME omg #“he whines whimpers and cries” oh yeah? YEAH.#I love doomed from birth protagonists; blamed for forces beyond their control before they even know how to say their name #the religious fanaticism in mc's father (am I oversharing but that's literally my dad too.. el did u watch a movie on my life)#is it really her fault that she came to know abhorrence instead of living in childlike innocence #this piece reads like rural gothic horror with themes of generational trauma; religious paranoia; like smth truly sinister lurking beneath #fics with religious themes are my roman empire fr and yours never fail to hit; feel like you gutted me open + ripped me apart from my seams #and I'd thank you for it #this is everything I love: ominous; melancholic; foreboding #you really sold the dark cynical tone in this #protagonist being emotionally detached and bitter my god #the biblical allusions in this were crazy and im literally not even religious #I think my rb is getting wayy too long but the jealousy scene with her omg IT IS AN UGLY FEELING but it's so cuteeeee #omfg ofc they choose the god damn lamb (lovingly)#all I do on this app is cry #STOP HER REFUSING TO SHAKE JAKES HAND; issokie he's my man so like I'll do it for her #“Say it. With me. Now.” no one is gonna understand the impact of this dialogue but im floored.#yve reviews 📬#the hashtag unlearn shame #I SAW THAT AND I AGREE #at first like the idyllic and almost pastoral description of the town lulled readers into a sense of false nomalcy and then boom bam like #i saw it coming but it was equally horrifying and satisfying to read #ugh I wish the tag limit on tumblr didnt exist because i would've screamed more #this took me so long to get through but it was worth every second.#I spent my entire saturday just reading this (it's two am rn) so I should sleep but I LOVEEEEED IT I LOVE YOU #thank you for always sharing a piece of yourself #what a privilege it is to live in the time where I can experience and read your works #yve favs 🖤#yve reccs!

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astrowarr · 7 months ago

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after watching several povs, there's something so striking about the way mumbo died.

he dies at home, first of all, which is notable in its own right because so much of his time was spent running about, usually in pursuit of kills. he dies with grian, too— to a thing grian created, no less, but it isn't actually grian's fault for once.

mumbo dies in that tall tower and when lightning strikes, from all across the server, everyone looks. their eyes land on that tower, and everyone is watching. even in grian's perspective, you can see everyone at renwood mound, lined up and staring. those at the bamlands looked on too.

they didn't see mumbo die, but they saw grian's grief. grian, who, throughout this season, has seemed cruel and untouchable to those outside of his circle due to his involvement with and knowledge of the wild cards. they watch grian immediately crumble under the weight of mumbo's death; several of them even explicitly comment, "look at grian, he's grieving, he's in mourning."

i like to think that, until that moment, grian was almost god-like in their minds; now, though, he's the quintessential concept of humanity. grief can be religious if you do it right, after all. even beyond the grian aspect though, isn't this just the most despairing omen of what's to come?

i mean, there's something about this image of a man fallen from grace, crying out as he holds the mangled corpse of his friend in the home they made together, high in the sky, on display for all the world to bear witness to. and the world did bear witness, be it with pity, horror, joy... it doesn't matter, because they saw.

the canary curse has been broken, but this was a fittingly foreboding, tone-setting image that did a stunning job filling its shoes

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chososcutie · 13 days ago

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AT THE SAME DAMN TIME .ᐟ

summary. when a vampire and a werewolf in rut on a full moon find you, a lost hiker stranded in the woods one stormy night, you find yourself in the midst of the eiffel tower of a century, pun intended.

featuring. werewolf!gojo x fem!reader x vampire!geto

word count. 3k

content. mdni fem!reader, werewolf!gojo, vampire!geto, dubcon, slight fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, petnames, degrading, bloodsucking, biting, oral (m!receiving), hickeys, doggy style, threesome, knotting, possessiveness, spitting, big dicks, grinding, cursing

author's note. this is all pure horny, disgusting smut i wrote in between breaks for my new fic coming out!

an owl hoots overhead, the sound low and foreboding, twigs cracking under your every step.

you glance at the black night sky, and the rumble of thunder moving in quickly, rain already hitting your warm skin in fat droplets that threaten a hard downpour soon to come.

shit.

how had it gotten to this point again?

oh right, your stupid idea of a hike through one of the most deserted places on earth had delved from a light-hearted afternoon walk into a nightmare when you found yourself going in circles, dazed and lost as a stormy night crept closer.

you had tried to call a number that would alert any nearby park rangers or the police, but your phone, battery dead and useless proved to be no help whatsoever.

and now, with a full moon beaming down on you and the rustling of bushes near you, you were out of ideas.

you come to a stop, your back hitting a tree trunk with a loud thump! as you slide down it in defeat.

the only chance of survival you had was to wait it out until morning when people came out to the trails again, and the storm passed, and just as you’re pondering where you could find shelter, a low growl far too close to you as well as heavy-sounding footsteps sound beside you.

“h-hello?” you call uncertainly, your head whipping left and right in the hopes of spotting whatever it was. “is anyone there?”

in response, something snarls, louder than any of the other noises you had been hearing tonight, its hot breath practically fanning across your neck in its closeness.

you turn your head in horror just in time to come face-to-face with a huge white werewolf, its frosty azure eyes big and unblinking, maw slack with lascivious drool pouring down, and sharp fangs glinting ominously.

crash!

thunder, loud and booming, shakes the ground and it’s then that you bolt, with no sense of direction only cold fear to guide you, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you run from the monster-like being, his footsteps hard on your trail.

he's snapping at your heels and growling ferociously as rain begins to pour down, absolutely drenching you with your shirt clinging to your figure like a second skin and your hair plastered across your forehead.

you gasp and pant, and just as you're starting to lose hope, bumbling blindly through the sheets of icy rain coming down hard and chilling you to the bone, you see it.

a cave, with not much to look at other than a slight overhang above it, all gray slated rock and darkness on the inside.

normally, you would be suspicious of such a cave, opting to investigate it a little further before heading in, but all rational parts of your brain disappear as you dart into the mouth of it, your clothes dripping wet and your breathing harsh.

it's only when you collapse onto the floor in a tired, soaked heap, breathing heavily and trying to calm yourself down, thinking that the entrance of the cave would be too small for the bulk of the monster outside to fit through, that you realize you're not alone.

because hanging upside down in the darkness that the cave provides, a blinking eyed bat stares back at you, slowly transforming right in front of your eyes into a tall, looming man, one with fangs jutting out below his lip and lazy, monolidded eyes that flick up and down your figure absently.

"who dares rouse me from my eternal slumber?" he crosses his arms across his chest with a scowl, all ashy pale skin and sunken undereyes.

"who are you?" you try to scramble backwards away from him, but he's quicker, dropping to his knees and pulling you into him by your legs.

he smirks at the small gasp you let out, and the involuntary shudder at the feel of his ice cold fingers dancing lightly along your thighs. "i believe i asked you a question first, love."

you stare back at him, breathless for a moment, your lips trembling as you manage to stutter out a response. "i-i got lost in the woods, and something was chasing me. i'm sorry, i didn't know this was your cave, i'll leave."

and just as you begin to stand up, he pulls you right back, his fangs creeping out. "ah ah, not so fast."

your breath catches, fear making your heart thump painfully in your chest as you try to force yourself to think.

what should you do?

his grip on you is tight and as he leans in closer, soft breath ghosting over the sensitive skin on your neck, you feel your skin prickle, managing to choke out a weak, "what are you doing?"

he smiles against your skin, allowing you to feel the sharpness of his fangs as they press against you, not quite biting yet but just there. "why, you're mine now, pet. my prey. my victim. thy fate is sealed."

he slowly opens his mouth, his hot, wet tongue coming to sweep across your pulse point and just as he's about to sink in, a loud howl is heard, followed by quick, skittering footsteps, or rather paw steps.

the same werewolf from before, with pure white fur and a lashing tail skids to a stop in front of you and the man, panting furiously, his cerulean blue eyes heated as he eyes you.

"she's mine, you bloodthirsty bastard! get off her!" he comes to separate you two, though not without the black-haired man's low curse as he rises once more to his full height, eyeing the wolf with a look of contempt.

"goddamnit gojo, you filthy mutt! what are you doing?"

gojo snarls in reply, coming to press against you from behind, staring at geto with a hint of a challenge in his frosty eyes. "i found her first. why do you think she came running in here?"

you can only swallow as your eyes rove between the two, wondering what was going to happen to you.

the fear had begun to wear off though, replaced with a low curling heat in the bottom of your tummy. they were both unfairly attractive men, and it was no surprise your eye was drawn to the chubbed bulge straining in geto's leathery pants or the way you felt gojo's swollen, hefty cock right up against your back.

"yeah? and why is it that you need her so desperately?"

and it's then that you feel the way gojo is pushing his hips forward, humping you ever so slightly as if he can't control himself, his breathing soft and whimpery as he suddenly bucks into you, desperate.

this doesn't go unnoticed by geto, whose eyes slowly follow the drag of his hot, weeping cock up and down your back, his raven eyes snapping back up to gojo with a snort. "you're in heat."

he says it like a statement, not a question, and at this, gojo's head falls onto your shoulder with a drawn-out groan, his breaths puffing feverishly out against you as any restraint he had snaps, furiously rutting against you and pushing your body slightly forward with every grind.

"yes! fuck, m'in heat!" he grits out. "now, can ya help me out here?"

geto, after flicking a strand of his long, black hair out of his face, pauses, his lips curving up just for a second as if something had crossed his mind.

"i think i have a way we can both get what we want." he practically purrs as he comes to a crouch in front of you, tilting your chin up to meet the burning intensity of his gaze. "but it's going to require you to be a good little pet for us, hm? can you do that?"

you find yourself nodding along eagerly, biting your lip as geto's cool hands curl around your thighs, spreading them open wide for gojo, who eagerly shifts, ripping your drenched panties aside with a rrrrip! of fabric.

you're facing gojo, and laying back on geto, with your head on his shoulder, his fingers beginning to work their way up your neck, pausing every now and then to feel your pulse points.

he chuckles darkly. "your pulse is jumping, sweet thing. ya excited to feel satoru's big cock stretching you?"

you nod weakly, slumped back on his chest, your breaths heaving as satoru begins to smear your gushing slick around your entrance with the reddened, veiny head of his cock, his tip bumping your puffy clit as he grinds in between your folds slightly.

your breath catches in a soft moan and suguru hums against your neck in approval, tongue laving hot, wet trails of saliva to drip down generously.

your plush thighs, sprawled apart and waiting, twitch slightly as experimentally, satoru pushes a couple thickened inches inside your hot, clamping walls.

the stretch is almost too much as you squeeze your eyes shut, gojo grunting above you as he tries to slowly fit himself all the way into your spasming cunt.

geto hushes you softly, cooing praises as one hand comes down to toy with your pulsing clit, rubbing tight little circles as his mouth busies itself on your sensitive neck, sucking purpleish hickeys across the expanse of it.

and when satoru finally bottoms out inside you with a whine, he's immediately rocking into you with fervor as his cock seems to only swell, his knot inflating and bumping your twitchy nub with every small movement— while you squirm and let out little cries of pleasure, suguru cradling you closer as his sucking turns more intense.

it's then that you feel the first graze of his teeth, featherlight but there, just barely a nibble across your flesh.

“hah.. fuck!” you reach up, tangling your fingers in geto’s long hair, pressing his head down harder against your neck as you moan breathily from the added sensation of his fangs scraping across you coupled with satoru’s almost frantic thrusts.

“slow down satoru,” geto murmurs hazily from your neck, almost as if whispering it to himself. “our pet is fragile.”

he lets out a desperate grunt in response, the hefty weight of his balls smacking against your ass as he angles himself to hit deep inside you to your cushy, sweet spot, the one that never fails to make you see stars.

your eyes roll back and it’s then that you feel suguru’s fangs bury themselves deep into your neck, the sharp prick fading to a pleasurable sting as he breathes in your scent with a satisfied groan rumbling deep into his chest.

satoru’s fat cock, with its bumpy veins and girth was edging you closer and closer to release with every sharp piston of his slim hips in and out of you, and now as it bumped your cervix repeatedly with sappy precum flooding out of the head, your mouth hung open with drool beginning to pour out with every shocking smack!

you weren't going to last much longer, and with a cry of, "satoru!" his thrusting turns more intense, his fluffy ears twitching frantically above his head as his dick throbs deep inside you.

and then, you feel it.

nothing more than a bump at first, his achingly swollen knot, just barely brushing your sappy folds.

but then more, as his fat, rotund knot begins to swivel n' push its way inside, shoving all of it past your tight, drooling heat with a drawn-out groan.

it pulsates weakly, halfway in and stretching your pussy lips obscenely around its sheer girth, and you tip your head back further onto suguru's shoulder with a keen, where he's still buried into your neck, simply just breathing you in.

"wan' it, 'toru!" you moan mindlessly, spreading your legs further as your whole body trembles and squirms. "want your knot!"

satoru's whole body jerks in response, his hips stuttering and more sloshes of hot, oozing precum gushing out of his furiously red blushing cock, zigzagging veins massaging your plush walls with every calculated stroke of his.

your skin was sizzling with heat, and your stomach had begun to curl into tight little knots, tears pricking at your lash line from how close you were to tipping over the edge and you mewl, clawing at gojo's toned hips in an effort to draw him impossibly closer.

your release is so close you can practically taste it, your every muscle tensed and coiled while you find yourself bucking back into gojo's sloppy thrusts, drool beginning to pour down your chin— and it's at that exact moment that geto rears his head back and bites hard, fangs sucking filthily upon your neck as if it were a lifeline, that you find yourself cumming.

your jaw falls slack in a silent cry, your orgasm exploding through you so intensely you can't even react other than the jolting of your hips up as you clench and milk satoru's thick cock whilst spraying your gushing release all along his abdominals.

you were squirting— so much of it that it was just flooding out of you, soaking satoru entirely in your honeyed essence.

his white tufted happy trail was dragging along your pussy back n' forth as he huffs feverishly before the raw, lewd plop! of his hot n' heavy knot being bullied into you seems to resound, the filthy wet squelches your cunt was making in response making you wriggle helplessly.

and then he's throwing his head back and cumming, the sight so utterly sinful as creamy wads of ivory sap are spurting deep inside your walls, ribbons n' ribbons of it until it's too much, and even then he can't stop, halfheartedly rutting into you as endless amounts steadily pulse into you.

geto groans, the sound low and reverberating through you as he continues taking pull after pull of your thick, warm blood, the feeling almost orgasmic as he draws it out of you slow, your eyes rolling back with the pleasurable ache.

but soon enough, you find yourself feeling lightheaded and with a weak protest from geto, manage to pull him off, his eyes half-cracked open and hazy with pleasure, crimson droplets dribbling down the corners of his lips which he quickly licks off.

gojo's still cumming, pink sheened lips dropped open and cerulean eyes clouded with lust, and you watch geto's head laze in a downward angle to bring your attention to the massive, rock hard bulge in his pants, twitching for any ounce of attention you were willing to give.

"you gonna help me out too, doll?" he drawls, amusement in his gaze as your breath catches at the sheer size of him when he slooowly drags his pants down his hips to let his cock slap against his stomach, curved and pierced at the frenulum.

he was.. pierced?

he stands up, pants half unzipped and turns your body toward him, gojo's large palms sliding over your hips to flip you onto your hands and knees, knot still firmly planted in place as he starts slowly dragging his cock in little rocking thrusts.

geto tilts your chin upward, smirking and tucks a bit of your hair behind your ears. his hand gently strokes your cheek, and as you gaze up at him with a whimper, growls out a, "open your mouth for me, pet."

you do obediently, and watch as he leans over you, letting a thick, silvery wad of spit sultrily drip down onto your tongue, your mouth instantly closing to swallow.

as you do, he shifts, one big hand wrapping around the thickened base of himself to drag his weepy cock along your lips, salty precum already streaking down your chin.

you slightly part your lips, only for geto to push just the fat, bulbous tip of his cock in between, groaning as your warm, wet mouth engulfs him.

gojo pants from behind, his big hands coming to rest on the curve of your waist, his breathing ragged as he furiously humps into you as much as he can with his swollen knot stretching your pussy lips wide, his seed dribbling out occasionally.

geto groans, a hand coming to tangle itself in your hair and pulling you down hard until his plump, globed tip is bruising the back of your throat, making you choke around him with a small moan, drool trickling down the corners of your lips.

he taps your cheek gently, as if to check on you, and you nod slightly, your eyes glassy with tears from all the stimulation as gojo's veined girth swats around your insides, absolutely pouring helpings of precum into you to add on to his mess from earlier.

and what happens next is something you can't prepare yourself for— satoru's big hand raises itself above the curve of your ass and then comes down in a harsh smack!

geto chuckles, pulling you further down on his cock with a tug on your hair until tears are streaming down your face and you're gagging on the length of him.

smack!

again, and again he spanks your plump, jiggling ass, mouth watering as he watches you, feeling the way your walls clench and spasm around him in preparation.

then suguru starts up a brutal pace, fucking into your mouth with abandon, his head thrown back and baring his adam's apple as it bobs in a swallow, muttering curses as you bob your head slightly to take more, your tongue working in quick flicks below his sensitive head and running along the cool metal of his piercing.

meanwhile, satoru's hips are snapping ruthlessly behind you, causing you to ping-pong between them as they both use you to chase their pleasure, your back arching as you shudder, pussy clenching down hard as your stomach tenses up.

you were close to cumming for the second time tonight, and satoru seemed to take notice, because this time when he raises his hand again, it's positioned directly over your puffy, throbbing clit, coming down in a wet thwack! that has you seeing stars and cumming so hard you think you black out for a second.

your thighs tremble and drench themselves in your own syrupy slick while you squirm desperately, your muffled moans and cries sending vibrations straight to suguru's dick.

and then you feel it. the musky tang of his cum filling up your mouth while he makes a noise caught between a moan and a whine, spurting so messily until it dribbles down your chin, his cock twitching with every webbed, ivory wad of seed he spills out.

and then with one last drag of his hot, bulging shaft, gojo also cums, loudly and messily with pools n' pools of white spilling down your thighs in rivulets and a moan that echoes throughout the empty cave, bouncing off the walls until it's all you can hear, your body trembling and spent.

your eyes shutter closed briefly, and distantly, you feel hands moving you, almost reverently, like you were their new shiny toy and they didn't want to break you— yet.

a hot, eager tongue laps at your thighs, cleaning up the mess streaking down between them, tender gentle strokes that focus on precision rather than overstimulating you further.

and when you're all cleaned up, you find yourself laid out flat, propped up against gojo whose ears twitch, his tail curling around your waist as he nuzzles into you, and geto who lies between your legs, his head on your thigh almost lazily.

you sigh, your eyes beginning to droop, tired, but before you can succumb to slumber, you hear geto's voice speaking to you in a murmur.

"you know you're going to be staying with us now, right?"

"why's that?" you say sleepily.

his mouth curves into a sadistic little smirk. "because you're our beloved little pet now. ours, and only ours."

©CHOSOSCUTIE. please do not plagiarize or repost my works!

a/n: this is kinda bad and a little rushed but i had to get something out

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godricgryffinsnore · 5 days ago

Note

Found myself doing this is a boring class, thought it would be a cool fic idea:

YN writes her crush's initials on her wrist's pulse point and he finds out.

Harry/fem!reader

Ink and Impulse ♡ | H.Potter ★

"Look, I didn’t mean to fall for the girl who writes initials on her wrist like she’s living in a teenage diary entry… but then I found out they were my initials, and well — what was I supposed to do? Not tease her relentlessly and then fall hopelessly in love? Yeah, right."

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : Writing your crush's initials on your wrist is harmless… unless your crush happens to be Harry Potter, who’s absolutely insufferable once he finds out.

warnings : Light teasing and playful embarrassment, Secondhand embarrassment (Harry is a menace, you've been warned), Excessive flirting and wrist kissing, Mild language, Shameless romantic fluff, Ron being utterly clueless, Hermione being 100% done with everyone, Boyfriend Harry with zero chill. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : This was such a cute idea!!! Thanks for requesting lovie!

word count : 0.7k

navigation <3

banners : @/roseschoices and @/cafekitsune

It started as a stupid impulse. You were bored in History of Magic — and Merlin, no one should be blamed for what they do while Binns drones on about goblin uprisings. So you did what any mildly lovesick teenage girl with a quill and a wrist would do.

You wrote his initials.

Small. Delicate. Right over the soft thrum of your pulse point.

H.J.P.

And then promptly forgot about it. Sort of.

Well, not really.

You tried to forget about it, but it was hard when every glance at your wrist made your heart do a stupid little jump, and when every accidental brush of Harry’s hand made the ink feel like it was burning.

And of course, life wasn’t satisfied with letting you pine in peace.

No, because Hermione noticed first.

“Did you write something on your wrist?” she asked, peering across the breakfast table.

You yanked your sleeve down so fast it was like you’d been caught with contraband. “Nope.”

“Definitely saw a letter,” Ron muttered, biting into his toast. “A J or a P or something. Is it... a crush?”

“I—no!” you choked, already planning your dramatic escape. “It’s just notes. For class. Revision strategy.”

“Right,” Hermione said, too knowingly. “Because when I revise, I always write my O.W.L. material directly over my arteries.”

Before you could swat her with a spoon, a voice drawled behind you—

“Oh? What’s this about arteries?”

Your soul briefly left your body.

Harry Potter—your Harry Potter, the one with the mess of dark hair and eyes that always softened when he looked at you like you were made of something more than bone and breath—plopped himself down next to you with a crooked grin.

“Apparently,” Hermione said sweetly, “someone’s been doodling on her pulse point.”

“Oh?” he asked again, this time turning directly to you. “What were you doodling?”

You swore his voice dropped an octave.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly.

“Mm.” His eyes drifted to your wrist, half-covered by your sleeve. “So if I just... had a peek—”

You slammed your hand under the table.

“Harry James Potter, I swear on Merlin’s left sock—”

“Is it... my name?” he asked, and smirked.

That was it. That was the moment you realized you were doomed.

Hermione audibly gasped. Ron dropped his toast. Hedwig, wherever she was in the castle, probably looked up with a sense of psychic foreboding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered. “Shut up.”

“Oh, this is brilliant,” Harry laughed, practically bouncing in his seat. “You like me. You wrote my name on your skin.”

“Initials!” you hissed. “And I was bored!”

“You wrote my initials on your pulse point, sweetheart,” he said, absolutely reveling in your horror. “That’s, like, sixteen levels of emotionally unhinged. Are you planning our wedding, too?”

“I was bored!”

“I think I feel faint,” he said, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “This is the best day of my life.”

You groaned and faceplanted into your arms, wishing for a time-turner so you could slap yourself three hours earlier.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But no.

Because Harry Potter decided to become a menace.

“Hey,” he whispered in Charms, pulling your sleeve up. “Just checking if my name’s still there. Would be tragic if you moved on.”

“Hey,” he said again at dinner, resting his chin on your shoulder, “thinking about getting ‘(Y/N)’ tattooed. Right over the vein. Want to match?”

And the worst part?

He actually did it.

One evening in the common room, when everyone else had filtered out and the fire was flickering low, he sat beside you with a quiet smile, reached for your hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to your wrist. Right where the ink had faded.

Then, slowly, he unbuttoned his sleeve, turned his arm over, and showed you.

Your name. Right over his pulse point. Written in messy, inky letters.

“I figured,” he murmured, eyes on you instead of the ink, “if you’re going to walk around with my initials like that... I ought to return the favor.”

Your breath hitched.

“You’re horrible,” you whispered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

Harry looked utterly pleased with himself.

“I know,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “But I’m your horrible, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, cupped his cheek, and kissed him.

Somewhere in the corner, Hermione muttered to Ron, “Finally.”

Ron just said, “Took him writing on his own arm, huh?”

#della's inbox 𐙚⋆°🦢｡⋆♡#della answered ⋆˚✿˖°#della 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter #harry james potter #hp fandom #harry potter fandom #harry potter series #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter x reader #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp

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dragongirlpoet · 10 months ago

Text

Dark Signs 2

Pt I I Pt III I Pt IV

Alucard x you

Synopsis: You asked Alucard for a favour. Now you have to be careful what you wished for. "To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster" - Vampire Hunter D

TW: Dark fantasy, horror & gore elements, blood, SMUT (Alucard is feral in this one) Explicit 🔞 I Words: 3.5k

Also to @skychaser777 hope you can sleep after this 😉

The hollow stone walls echoed my shaky breaths, caving them in, the thumping of my heart violent in my ears. My skin was pricked with goosebumps, foreboding dire dwellings.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Absurd question, considering everything was inherently far from right.

There had only been one instance where I felt unsafe with Adrian.

Located in the underbelly of Wallachia was a forgotten catacomb, a labyrinth where the dead and undead alike convened. I had been extracting bile from slaughtered night creatures, told to render powerful salves when mixed with mint, myrrh and…other herbs.

Body sticky with sweat and hands grimy from reaching into revolting guts, I was almost to my fifth vial when a guttural growl stopped me dead in my tracks.

From the marrows of a tunnel, a numbing cold, laced with strangled gnawing, reverberated through the passageways.

Every fibre of my being told me to run, alas I had all but the impudence of a child. Unsheathing my iron dagger, ensorcelled to wound even the most vile, I treaded warily towards my impending doom.

The sight that awaited me was sickening. Crouched over bodies upon bodies of night creatures was a pallid, mangled man? His face was buried in their carcasses, marring at their flesh, lapping at their blood.

Before I could take another breath, the man turned, face smeared with ravaged viscera and foul, curdled blood. He had hair like the purest wisps of wheat and eyes like dark, desecrated graves.

I choked back a gasp.

“You foolish, foolish girl. You are not prepared for the evil that lurks here, feeds here..” his bellow was deafening, diabolical. Blood spilled from his fangs, splaying his torso tainted with innards and rotten flesh.

“Wh..who are…you?” I paced backwards as he stalked towards me.

“You don’t know who I am? Most fascinating…” he offered a smile so sinister, as if he had stumbled upon the most naive of fools he was soon to devour.

“I am the sun…rain…the darkness. I am sin made flesh and I am whom you should most fear. I am Alucard, son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.”

A loud “smash” rattled through the room as I retreated into our wooden dresser, knocking over a prized hourglass Alucard so often used to practise his script. The pair of glowering molten eyes trailed me — never blinking, burning caverns into my soul.

I shifted my gaze downwards to avoid stepping into glass, but that was regrettably the least of my worries. Lifting my stare, those eyes were gone — quick as spectres passing through dimensions.

Our chamber fell into a boundless black, and my human sight could not adjust acutely enough to the darkness. I flailed my arms about willing to grasp onto anything that could give me some bearing. Anxiety crept through me like poison ivy ensnaring a forsaken home.

“Adrian? Stop this please! This isn’t funny.” The volatile rhythm of my heart suddenly became too loud, too unbearable.

No amount of breaths could repress my violent trembling. A faint flicker from the corner caught my eye — Alucard’s heirloom sword. If his magical estoc was there…he is still in the room with me.

The hairs on my arms shot up, little by little.

Out of nowhere, forceful, ice cold hands prised around my throat, yanking me out of my state of terror. From behind, Alucard, voice grave like a thousand infernal souls, growled into my ear,

“Do you understand the gravity of what you’re asking?”

Whether it was fear or the vice-like grip around my neck, I couldn’t speak.

“Answer me.”

He clamped tighter.

”Ye…yesss,” I wasn’t telling a lie.

“Then let’s finish what we started, shall we?��

One minute I was in Alucard’s death grip, the next I was shoved, hard, into the stone wall, my face chafing against the abrasive mortar. I winced at the pain.

“You’re hurting me, Adrian!”

Behind, he tightened his grip on my wrists, binding them into the small of my back.

“Am I? Ohh…but you like danger, don’t you?...His other hand reached down to unfasten his pants, his erect cock sliding out… “You are drawn to the darkness, just as I am.”

He trailed the words up and down my neck, pausing ever so subtly to savour the scent of blood in my veins.

A small bead of sweat started trickling down my face…no, no, it was blood — from my collision with the wall.

Alucard went eerily still again. I felt a shift in his countenance, like a malevolent cloud obliterating sunshine.

He was hungry.

With one knee, he forced my legs apart and hauled my nightdress up, my backside fully exposed. I could feel the tip of his length against my rear — throbbing, impatient. He snaked his hands all over my naked body, grabbing at my breasts, digging into my thighs.

The scent of my blood set his every carnal need aflame.

Adrian had always been prudent — he would excuse himself at the slightest scent of my exposed blood, isolating himself in the castle dungeons for hours, as if he deserved it. Deserved to be punished for his beastly urges, deserved to be condemned for being born a monster.

Every blood-month I had would send him away for days — “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve seen what I become when I feed… I’ll just be hunting, it’d be just a few days, and your cycle would end when I’m back,” he would say with a smile. A sad smile.

And I was utterly tired and heartbroken that my Adrian, so kind and full of love, would admonish himself, rip his spirit to shreds, for a fate that had been unfairly handed to him. I was going to end this, tonight.

Alucard nuzzled his face into my hair, taking in all my smells, heaving. His body was unyielding against mine — elegant marble against bewitching velvet. I could hear his vampiric heartbeat ringing in his ears, drowning out all sense of reason. He was an animal in heat.

“You know I cannot control myself around you. And you know what your blood does to me… Do you know how long I haven’t fed?”

His writhing cock was brandishing my cunt, starving for my hole.

“Do you know I think about what it’s like to have your blood in my veins? How much I want it, need it, desire it.

How much I want my blood in you. And you ask this of me, tonight, when I’m sitting at the precipice of hunger and lust…”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Hmmm you don’t know what’s coming for you. Once I do this there’s no turning back.

Do you know how long I’ve been holding out for you? To be better for you. And now you ask this of me…”

At that he yanked at my hair, forcing my head to fall back. The red trace on my cheeks bowed complete to his mercy.

Staring defiantly into his eyes, I said, “Do it, Adrian. I want you to.”

Danger, danger.

A devious smile tugged at his lips. Alucard skimmed my neck with his mouth, bruising it with reckless kisses and parlous nips. He moved precariously to suck at the aquamarine veins running down my breasts, licking slow circles about my nipples. He was a wolf dallying with his food.

A true vampire, hedonistic even in the slightest of pursuits, moving inevitably to the blood trail. He had waited so long for this.

Alucard pushed his lips delicately into my face, afraid of spilling even the smallest of drops. My blood was a sacred river, a bath of worship he would praise forever. Shaking, he ravened the scarlet off my face, sucking at the open cut, willing for more.

He was a mixture of muffled moans and enthralled ecstacy.

It was exhaultant. I adored being able to give Adrian what he most craved.

Drinking in more than necessary, the whites of his eyes were no longer — entire sockets now overtaken with crepuscular crypts darker than the blood moon that hung outside.

Alucard’s cock twitched beneath me, length growing harder and bigger by the second. Grunting, he pumped his sex and slid it against my pussy. I was light-headed with anticipation, but he had merely fondled my folds, prodding at my entrance, testing to see how wet I was.

Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps a dissolute part of me yearned for the darkness, but what I’d wanted most of all was to know that I had years, centuries — immortality, to be with Adrian.

Head over my shoulder with eyes like lacquered obsidians, he interlaced his fingers with mine, bringing them down to press at my clit. Flagging off from my most sensitive spot, he traced them up my body, slowly, torturously.

“I wonder…” fingers caressing my abdomen… “how far up…” I gasped as he adjusted them higher… “my cock will go when I’m deep inside you…” Alas settling on a spot above my navel.

A sacred river spawned between my legs.

Incapable of restraint any longer, I reached back to stroke his shaft, thumb stimulating his tip until his pre-load creamed my fingers. I lathered his fluids, relishing in the feel of his hallowed flesh tethered to my hands.

“Fuuuck.” Alucard bristled against my touch, face buried in my neck. Below, he was thrusting at my entrance, not yet entering, readying me for his carnal devotion.

”Adrian please, I need you. I want you inside…”

His last thread of resolve snapped. He rammed his boner into me from behind, stretching me, engulfing me. My tender walls were a haven to his brutal thrusts, welcoming him in. Cock barely to his hilt, he spread my bottocks apart, plunging his engorged member in.

“Ahh…ahh…” I whimpered, hands braced on the wall.

“How are you still so tight…” he hissed, enraged he couldn’t yet feel all of me.

My fingers weaved into his hair, tugging as I leaned further back into him. This feral urge, I craved it. It was scarce enough to satiate the searing lust in me, so I ground impiously against his length like the unholy girl he wanted me to be.

Tonight, he was to have his way. He was the nefarious overlord and I was but a malleable zealot. My hips were firmly held down by his hands — he wanted to control my rhythm. I was, afterall, his submissive little prey.

Alucard forced his cum-stained fingers into my mouth, swirling them about the insides of my cheeks, wresting in and out of my plush lips. I licked at them greedily, suckling on his taste. He was so deft — hands and length penetrating me in a lyrical sync, sating me above and below.

I gagged when he stuck his fingers further down, my throat wedging tight. Tears rimmed my eyes but I continued hollowing my cheeks, head bobbing. “Such a good girl…” praising as he brushed hair off my face. I was to appear immaculate while being fucked indecent.

Hypnotised by his bulge assaulting my hole, I bit sinfully on his index, tearing his skin. He pulled out from my mouth, eyes transfixed on the blot of blood.

“You’re being a naughty little lamb tonight…” His smile was insidious, like a serpent suffocating its meal.

My vampire smothered his blood over my parted lips. My tongue grazed over it, wiping it clean like I was the one writhing in blood lust. What I did had Alucard under a powerful spell. He plummeted his smug into me, our kisses heedless, crashing into each other in depraved lust.

We sucked and bit them swollen, both of us unrestrained and shameless of our monstrous love. Under, he continued hammering his heat into me, hand pushing my cunt back to swallow more of him.

Alucard was never one to trifle with a perfect opportunity. Hands at his favourite spot, he rubbed his digits forcefully at all the places his cock didn’t already fill. My knees buckled at once from overstimulation.

“Stay.” He landed a firm smack onto my soaking sex… “Still.”

“Or I won’t let you cum.” An order.

He bent me over, my backside raised to allow him easy entry. I compelled my wobbly legs to stand, muscles quivering at my bones.

“Good. Hands on the wall.”

Like his obedient little lamb, I hoisted my arms on the cold stone, squeezing taut around my feral wolf.

I was begging, moaning his name, my being in complete disarray.

Content with how tight I was clenching around his shaft, Alucard drove his erection mercilessly into me, pounding so hard I was lifted off the ground.

I cried out in pleasure and pain. “Adrian! Adrian please…”

“You like it when I’m rough with you, baby? You want me to turn you, and fucking you senseless comes with it,” he spat in between thrusts, dragging hair away from my ears to ascertain I could hear him loud and clear.

I was so deliciously filled my lewdness spilled out onto my legs. Paths of sweet nectar trickled down my trembling thighs, glazing his girth with my wicked desire.

I was so close.

Smelling my arousal and imminent climax, Alucard slammed faster into me, his own pace losing cadence.

We were so close.

He had everything timed perfectly. Just as he had countless times before — night creatures and wild animals — all unsuspecting pawns to his blood thirst. He was adept at hiding his deplorable little secret, but I knew better.

Fangs fully exposed, he grazed them masterfully over my neck, humming at my veins and arteries. Quite like a skilled chef discerning food, he was choosing which would taste most exquisite. My scarlet vessels were pulsing in tempo with my heartbeat — palpitating, quivering, waiting.

“Are you frightened? I can feel your terror in my bones…” villainy laced his snarl like a wolf finally rid of sheep’s clothing.

I had to inhale gulps of air to articulate my words, “No….” But what I said or what I thought mattered no longer. Gone was Adrian — human, moral, benign. A bestial, debased monster, instead, all consumed him.

Soulless eyes searched me once more, as if to forewarn me about my perilous decision, as if the human in him was straining to break free of his chains to stop this atrocity.

There was no turning back now.

I offered my neck to him, reckless, bloodstreams on full display. At last, with Alucard’s throbbing cock still stuffed full inside, I felt the firestorm in my core and the crushing torrent soon overcame me.

My release tonight felt different — cathartic. I was once again the delicate driftwood being dragged underwater — careless, aimless, going where the current took me. My limbs fell limp at my sides, my spirit devoid of vigour. And I knew why.

Alucard’s fangs were buried in my neck, drinking my blood as if a divine offering. When did he bite me? I felt no pain, only a rapture so heavenly I ached for more.

And so drink he did. Rivers of blood coated his lips, crimson tributaries surging down his throat. He sucked and lapped at my vital spark, clawing at my body so arduously as if I was the most cherished jewel of immeasurable value.

Like a vampire deprived of debauchery, he drank me in like sweet sin. He had no beginning and no end. And rightfully so. I was profoundly proud of my Adrian. At long last, he no longer had to be ashamed of who he was. He was liberated. He was free.

My racing heart was now a supine hum. I lay naked — pliant and frozen in his arms. The sleepy swell of the ocean lulled me into the black nothingness. I was rising and falling, so in harmony with the current.

Above, hazy sunbeams fractioned the waves like sparkling diamond necklaces. Beneath, the sombre abyss tugged at my essence, diffusing all manner of light. The ominous depth, though a macabre embrace, was one so full of promise. It was beckoning to me, calling my name — stay, stay, stay…

—

I awoke to a pall of infinite blackness.

I had been dreaming. There were shadows — silhouettes, of people I couldn’t quite make out. They were whispering, a sonnet of hurried voices, as if going somewhere, but nowhere at the same time. Then there was a lambent flame — the colour of pale amber, always in the distance but never near. Always tailing, always watching…

Where was I?

I could see nothing, hear nothing. I shifted slightly, and my shoulders were met by cool textile — silk? As more of my senses reconciled, I felt the mattress below me, a satiny divan not reminiscent of my bed. Muted was the air, hollow was the roof, and

…algid was my skin.

I was in a coffin.

Panic coiled through the ridges of my ribs, puncturing my heart like lethal thorns. I clawed and pounded at the wood…was I buried alive?

Alas, like the caves of hell being vaquished by divine light, the casket slid open, and I clambered onto a sprawling granite floor. I was heaving, frantic to take in air, clamouring at my chest as if ghostly hands were crushing my heart, splintering my valves.

Where was Adrian?

A succession of torches adorned the upper vaults, the mellow ebb of light suddenly becoming glaring to my eyes, as if I had been staring directly at the sun. I could make out the phosphorescent ripples and saffron hues that wreathed the flames.

The air smelled vaguely of mildew and crumbling concrete, while the scampering of rodents in between masonry thundered in my ears. I could hear them squeaking, the sounds of their bones compressing while they squeezed through cracks and crevices.

I could hear their heartbeats — tiny surges of blood in their capillaries.

Such fragile little things, I wonder what they’d feel when they’re crushed by the force of my teeth. If they’d feel pain, if any at all, as I drain them dry…

I was so, so hungry.

My awareness had heightened ten-fold, the anarchy of it all confounding whatever human that was left in me. The sensation of everything all at once was too much to bear and I covered my ears to drown out the distress.

Futile efforts indeed.

“Adrian? Adrian…” My voice hoarse from wheezing.

Was this what he had to endure? Being so akin with the presence of entirety, enough to render one insane. Was this why he had been so loath to turn me?

I hauled myself off the ground, bidding my legs to what looked to be a door. Scarce a blink had passed than I was face to face with a metal threshold — intricate lineations etched faintly onto the frame.

“Willing blood of the Raven Maiden,” — Enochian, words of ancient bygone, but Adrian and I had been avid philologists.

I didn’t concern myself with whether the translation had in fact referred to my blood, but I sank my fangs — a lurid extension — into my wrist and smeared them over the threshold.

The magicked portal transported me to a bed chamber, a former bed chamber, now resembling the crux of a dense forest.

Creepers cleaved through stone, while poison vines slivered across furniture. Rich moss clung to the bed frame, eating away at the tulle canopy, embedding itself into rotted linen.

That chaise…it was ours.

Horror flooded my senses as I glanced furtively around.

Our armoire, our settee, our desk.

Strewn across the floor, some shredded by tree roots dissecting the wooden panelling, lay stacks of disintegrating parchment like remnants of forgotten lore.

Vampiric speed overtaking, my eyes scanned the moth-eaten pages over.

“Come back to me.”

I choked on my tears.

“To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster.”

They fell like glass, shattering on the ink, eroding the paper more.

How long had I been asleep for?

“No, no, no…” I wept into the emptiness, anguish imprisoning my lungs, blocking off air. In spite of being undead, I had a heart, and it bled — it bled crimson, pain and grief. It bled with all the words I wished I could take back.

It bled with all the ache that I might never see Adrian again.

I scoured the castle. Every tower, every room, every dungeon, each a shell of its former mirth. The scenes ran parallel — overgrown foliage, wrecked furnishings, pillars atrophied by decay. Our home had been eaten away by the curse of time. There was no sign of life, no essence of Adrian.

With a threshing hole in my heart, I raced past the lattice of abandon toward the main doors. As the iron portcullis lifted, I recoiled at the hell that awaited me.

There, in the blistering winter, impaled upon rows and rows of stakes, dangled festering corpses of night creatures…and humans.

What have I done?

Pt I I Pt III I Pt IV

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 28 days ago

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Animorphs #11: The Forgotten thoughts (pt. 2):

This book has so many classic horror elements. The death premonitions and the sense of foreboding, but also the inability to tell anyone about the fear because you're not sure how real it is. Feels almost like a Final Destination or Haunting of Hill House type of story.

Another detail I love: Ax's takeoff in the Bug fighter knocks over all of his friends, and he apologizes for having forgotten to account for human balance in the acceleration. It suggests that he really is right about humans being wobblier than most other species, and that Bug fighters don't have seatbelts because humans are the only possible operators who could be injured by turbulence.

[Jake's orders put Tobias in danger] Tobias: You're the boss! Here I come! (p. 56) [Jake's orders put Ax in danger] Tobias: Jake, there's no time!... They're after him! You happy now, Jake!? (p. 89)

"A moment of pity... This hork-bajir warrior didn't ask to be here, bleeding from a dozen wounds in an alien jungle a billion miles from his home. But then, I didn't ask to be here, either." (p. 93) That's it, that's the series!

Also on the list of humans-as-space-elves details: Ax apparently assumes that humans will be frightened by the sight of a monkey. Does he think he acquired a tiny mutant human and that he's about to induce Uncanny Valley willies in his friends?

Animorphs books can be read here | Book Club schedule is here

#animorphs #animorphs book club #the forgotten #humans as space elves #is there another trope name for humans being the LEAST hardy species in the universe?#we fall over more than any other species; we're the wimpiest and least-armed aliens; we have silly “ick” reactions to our own neighbors #(<= which is sometimes even justified because we get poisoned if you look at us wrong)

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pretzel-box · 11 months ago

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I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?

A joke too much

words: 1,3k

status: non-proof read

tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes

sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol

Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.

One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.

"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.

"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.

"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."

His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.

"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.

Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.

“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.

Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”

Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”

The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”

You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”

Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.

Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.

Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.

You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.

For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”

You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“

Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure

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hinge · 28 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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pathologicalreid · 8 months ago

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hysteria | s.r.

in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (horror?) content warnings: hanging (staged suicide), enucleation, established relationship, ghosts, insane asylum, rope burn, premonition in dreams, death, pov switches, "the green ribbon", lobotomies, abduction, corporeal vs spirit form, CPR, hospitals, painkillers, first aid word count: 8.8k a/n: hey guys i am literally not one to beg for interaction but like if you could send an ask or gimme a reblog if you liked this it would probably make my day. this fic is just an excuse for me to tell ghost stories! and just like that, margotober is over. man, it sure would be a shame if i had something planned for november!

night one

“This is a joke, right?” You asked, eyeing the rest of the team as they observed the property before you. The dilapidated building that stood in front of you was previously completely abandoned, and now you weren’t entirely sure if the yellow police line was new or if the tattered plastic was a result of a crime of the past.

It looked like one of the haunted houses that Spencer would drag you to, one with a much too high budget that would leave you feeling like you needed to scrub cobwebs from your skin. You were waiting for the sheriff to make his way up the hill that the asylum was perched on, the BAU had made it up in SUVs, but the locals elected to hoof it.

Tugging the sleeves of your FBI jacket over your hands, you tapped your heel impatiently and observed the scenery. The fall foliage was in peak season, orange and red leaves fluttered in the wind, falling from the trees until they hit the ground. To the left was the town, small and hidden within a river valley, and to the right was a field of gravestones. Each life lost in the asylum whittled down to a number, hundreds of weathered rocks marked where a body was buried. Even after all of your years with the BAU, the sight still made you sick to your stomach.

The death count on this property had gone up by twelve recently, a group of college kids had found the first body hanging from the staircase, and it seemed like a semi-routine suicide until the local cops did a full sweep of the building and found eleven other bodies, each hanging in a different room.

It wasn’t until the medical examiner looked at them that they realized they were out of their depth, the oldest of the bodies had been dead before they were hung, which told you that hanging the bodies was the intention of the killer and he was beginning to perfect his M.O. Even more than that, the last two bodies had been enucleated post-mortem.

Being grateful for the method by which a person had their eyeballs destroyed wasn’t an emotion you felt frequently, and it was an odd thing to admit to yourself as you consciously blinked.

Over the curve of the hill, you watched as a couple of locals made their appearance, each of them equipped with a flashlight. The sun was beginning to set. Emily had made the executive decision that this case couldn’t wait until morning, so you took off in the middle of the day. Glancing over your shoulder, you found Spencer’s eyes and he gave you one of his patented half-smiles before you looked back at the foreboding building.

The structure had electrical issues, leading to lights flickering all over the crumbling brick walls. The flashes were starting to play tricks on your eyes because you would’ve sworn that you saw a woman in one of the windows, in a long white dress as she looked down at you and your team.

“You must be the BAU,” the sheriff greeted once he was close enough to your group, he waved before huffing impatiently. “Sheriff Shawn Greenbaum, this here is Deputy Conrad Perkins,” he introduced himself and the man with him. You studied them, trying to gauge information about them based on appearance alone.

Emily nodded, reaching her hand out for him to shake and introducing herself before making the rounds with the rest of the team. “Agents Simmons and Lewis are already at the station getting settled, but the rest of us are interested in getting in the building and taking a look around.”

Greenbaum placed both of his hands on his hips before clearing his throat, “That’s not a problem at all. We’ve got a lock up on those front doors to try and keep people out, we’re hoping it’ll put a halt on any more crime.”

Kicking mud off of your boot, you and JJ shared a dubious look. In your line of work, where there’s a will there’s a way—a padlock would do very little to help keep your killer out of the asylum. Even so, you all followed the sheriff as he produced a key from his belt, leading the way to the front doors. They were made of rotting wood. If someone really wanted to get past the lock, they could probably kick them in.

The smell hit you before you stepped foot inside the building, the stench of mildew wafting through the air made you crinkle your nose as you closely followed JJ into the building. A gentle touch to the small of your back told you that Spencer was behind you, each of you shuffling in single file behind the sheriff.

“The first body was found hanging over there,” the deputy, Perkins pointed straight ahead toward the winding staircase. You studied the peeling wallpaper and looked at the faded signs above the different hallways, barely able to make out the words tuberculosis and adolescent as you strolled through the main lobby.

Since they’d initially assumed it was a suicide, the body had been taken down, so even though you had twelve bodies to start your profile with, you didn’t have a fresh crime scene anywhere. In fact, you’d wager a guess and say there’s nothing fresh about this building.

Cringing as you walked over a pile of wet paper, you listened to Emily as she gave everyone jobs, “Reid and I will keep talking to the sheriff, Rossi and JJ, why don’t the two of you check out this wing here with the deputy, and Luke and Y/N can take the upstairs.”

You looked up and found Luke, following him to the staircase and ducking under the noose to go up the stairs, hesitant to use the handrail as you made your way to the second floor, knowing there was plenty of building for the two of you to explore. Pulling your flashlight from your belt for additional lighting, the sight in front of you was worse than what you had seen downstairs. “Watch your step,” you said absentmindedly, bypassing a bucket filled with what you sincerely hoped was water.

“When was this place built again?” Luke asked you, knowing you had done preliminary research with Spencer on the jet. He produced his own light, slipping his cell phone from his pocket and using the flashlight function.

You checked the ceiling, wondering where the beams were and if any bodies had been found in the hallways, “The 1860s,” you responded, keeping your voice soft so you didn’t disturb anything in the building—living or otherwise. You found yourself wanting to walk to the window you had seen that woman in earlier.

Alvez made a disgusted noise at something, and you refrained from looking back at it, knowing you likely didn’t want to know. “And what patients did they predominantly treat?”

Fiddling with the door handle, you nudged the door open with your knee, coughing at the puff of dust that met you on the other side. “They started with a little bit of everything. The elderly, children, adolescents, epileptics, TB patients,” you listed off. “We even found records of people accused of ‘excessive self-satisfaction,’” you continued, finding the window in question. The only thing you found was the same flickering sconce you had seen from the outside.

“Self-satisfaction?” Luke repeated the phrase curiously.

You tapped the sconce with the end of your flashlight, getting it to stop flickering before you clarified, “Masturbation.”

Expectedly, Luke chuckled lightly at your answer, “How exactly would one quantify excessive masturbation?”

Raising your eyebrows, you studied a strange mark on the cement floor, “I assure you; I have no clue.” You turned around, expecting to see Luke right in front of you. “Luke?” You called out his name, confused when you didn’t see him in your line of sight, you flashed your light around the room, wondering if he had found something. “Ah!” You yelped when a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to drop your flashlight.

Luke cackled from his place behind a bookshelf, “It’s gonna be a long case if you’re that tightly wound the entire time.”

You swatted at him with the sleeves of your jacket, “Asshole,” you muttered, taking the practical joke mostly in stride.

“Y/N?” Spencer called from the first floor. Your voice must have carried down the stairs, or they heard the flashlight fall to the ground.

Glaring at Luke, you shouted back, “I’m fine!” You crouched to pick up your flashlight, blowing dust off of it before you tightened your grip around it, “Grow up, Alvez.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, so what did they do after they took in a little bit of everyone?”

You hummed, stepping back out into the hallway, and looking into what you assumed were offices—most of the patients would’ve lived on the first floor. “They started to focus on patients with mental disorders in the 1970s. Around the same time that medicine in psychiatry started to make advancements,” you kicked at a piece of cloth on the ground. “It closed down in the early nineties when people finally started acknowledging that things like lobotomies and electroshock are inhumane.”

Luke picked the next room, wiggling the doorknob before he used his shoulder to push the door open, “Woah.”

Stepping in behind him, you saw what he was looking at. Along the wall was a mural of sorts, a landscape that featured a caricature of the sun. Next to it, the words ‘let the sun shine in’ were scrawled in black paint.The colors were eerily vibrant for the age of the building, “Well that’s…” You let your voice trail off, looking at the size of the furniture in the room and ascertaining that it was likely designed as a treatment space for children.

“Do you hear that?” Luke asked, shining his flashlight around the room and looking for the source of the noise.

Fortunately, you weren’t that gullible, “Yeah, right.” You scoffed, turning back and seeing Spencer at the top of the staircase, “Hey,” you said, tilting your head to the side curiously.

He smiled at you softly, “Hey, it looks like it’s about to rain, so Emily’s having all of us head back to the precinct. We can look at the M.E. reports knowing what we know now about the crime scene.”

You nodded, looking into the room to find Luke, still shining his phone in every corner, “Luke, it’s probably just a rat or a tree branch tapping on the side of the building.”

Luke’s eyebrows were pinched together in concern, but he followed your footsteps into the hallway, falling to the back of the group as the three of you walked downstairs, meeting the rest of the team in front of the asylum.

“It’s kind of weird,” you said mostly to yourself, though you were entirely aware of the people who were surrounding you.

Spencer hummed curiously, making sure the sheriff wasn’t watching before he adjusted the collar of your jacket, “What’s weird?” He asked, mimicking the soft tone of your voice.

You looked back at the window where the light had started flickering again, “How all of these people were forced into the asylum by their loved ones, and now the word has an entirely different meaning.”

Holding your mug in both hands, you listened carefully to the crackling fire in the lobby of the hotel. Matt stood up from where he was sitting so that Spencer could sit next to you, and you absentmindedly slung your legs over his lap, thinking about the case. More specifically, you were thinking about the scene.

Spencer set a hand on your pajama-covered thigh, using his other hand to hold his book open as you listened to the other noises in the lobby. There was a storm going on outside, and a certain level of unease blanketed the team, leading to a convening in the hotel. Emily and Tara were going over case files, Matt and JJ were on the phone with their families, Rossi was playing Tetris on his phone, Luke was on the phone with someone, and you were just observing.

Eventually, Luke spoke up to everyone, “Hey guys, listen to this,” he said, holding his phone out and clicking the speakerphone button, “Okay, go ahead Garcia.”

Your eyebrows raised in amusement at the revelation that he was on the phone with Penelope, but you were still grateful to hear her voice coming through the speaker.

“I hope you’re all cozy by the fire because I have found a story about your crime scene that will chill you to your bones,” she prefaced, and you smiled slightly at her embellishments. “Catherine Pence was admitted to the Barnham Asylum for the Mentally Ill in 1978 at the age of 53. She lived a totally normal and insignificant life until she was 50 years old and her mother passed away, at which point, the people in Catherine’s life said she started to behave strangely.”

Snapping his book closed, Spencer set the novel in your lap before pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “Strangely, how?”

Penelope cleared her throat, “I’m glad you asked, Dr. Reid. She was convinced that her mother was still with her. In fact, she would frequently be confused when other people told her that they couldn’t see her mom. Eventually, she started showing other concerning symptoms, so her husband brought her to Barnham.”

You frowned, sharing a glance with JJ, who had hung up the phone, “What kinds of other symptoms?”

“The file I got my hands on specifically cites paranoid thoughts, but that’s not even the spookiest part,” she continued. “When the doctors did their first examination of Catherine, they decided that whatever she was dealing with wouldn’t be amenable to any sort of treatment. She was a very calm patient who periodically had conversations with her dead mother and voiced paranoid thoughts, but they put her in Block D.”

Block D was the section of the hospital set aside for patients in need of around-the-clock care, which seemed a bit extreme for Catherine.

There was a clicking on Penelope’s end of the call before she resumed, “Anyway, Block D had sixteen rooms and there was always some form of supervision, usually a nurse. All of the doors were locked and there were bars on the window, so it was impossible to get anywhere without someone noticing, or so you would think.”

You settled further into the couch cushions, and Spencer instinctively squeezed your thigh.

“On December 1st, 1978, when the nurse went into Catherine’s room with her breakfast tray, she found the room in absolute tatters. I mean, the bedding was shredded, there was broken glass, everything was scattered around the room, and Catherine was missing.” Penelope said, emphasizing the last word.

Luke, who had previously seemed bored by the story, leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, “What happened to her?”

Penelope hummed, knowing she had sucked everyone into the story, “The search started immediately. You don’t just have someone escape an inescapable room and move on with your day. The windows, walls, and floor in Block D were completely intact and there was no sign of tampering with the door. No one could figure out how she got out, much less where she was.”

She didn’t wait for anyone to speak before she continued, “Catherine’s nurse said that she was unusually moody and had been for weeks. She completely stopped speaking and showed no reactions when people spoke to her and it was apparently very sudden, but that didn’t really provide any insight into where she could be. The staff searched the surrounding area thoroughly, but there were no leads. Eventually, they notified her relatives and the residents of the town in case she had somehow gotten out of the hospital.”

Then, on January 12th, 1979, a group of men that the asylum hired to do repair work on the second floor found that there was a door locked from the inside.” Garcia cleared her throat before resuming the story, “They also discovered an unpleasant smell emanating from the room, and when they finally got into the room, there was Catherine Pence.”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust, simply just imagining the smell of the room.

“Her clothes were removed and neatly folded next to her and her arms were crossed over her chest, one below the other,” Penelope continued. “Mysteriously, when her body was removed and taken to the morgue, there was a trace left on the concrete floor that corresponded exactly to the figure of Catherine. No matter how many times or what they’ve tried, they can’t get the mark out of the concrete.”

Your blood ran cold at the memory of the strange shape you’d seen in the asylum, “What?”

Penelope hummed, “The medical examiner considered hypothermia as a potential cause of death, but apparently that winter was unseasonably warm, so he settled on a heart attack.”

“Did they ever consider homicide?” Rossi asked, attempting to seem uninterested.

There was a chuckle on the other end of the call, “Yes, they did, but they never found anything else to support that theory. At that point, the room Catherine was found in hadn’t been opened since 1976 when it was used to contain patients with a contagious infectious disease. Since then, the room remained locked.” You could practically hear Penelope’s smile as she divulged the final detail, “Residents of the town say that, sometimes, you can hear cries for help coming from the building. There are even reports of Catherine’s ghost being seen in the window of the room where she died, she just stands there and stares out the window.”

Everyone sat around in silence for a moment before Luke grabbed the phone off of the coffee table, “Yeah, alright, thanks, Garcia.”

“Sleep well, my pretties,” she crooned through the phone before the call ended.

You felt heavy as if there had been a weight placed on your chest, and in an attempt to rectify it, you handed Spencer his book, “I’m headed to bed.”

He looked up at you curiously, eyes studying yours before he nodded, “Alright, I’ll be up in a little while,” he assured you.

Your body carried you to the hotel room, using the key to unlock the door and somehow making it to the bed even after your mind had completely turned itself off. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you remembered waking up.

As you sat up in bed, you were having trouble holding your head up, finding that you couldn’t turn your neck to see if Spencer had made it to bed. More than that, the room was pitch black when the two of you usually leave the bathroom light on in hotels. Opening your mouth, no words came out.

Small puffs of air escaped your lips, but nothing else came out. You couldn’t move your hands to your neck—you couldn’t move at all. You wanted to call out for Spencer, and even though no sound came out of your mouth, you saw him before you.

Your eyes widened at his sudden appearance, suspiciously illuminated in the otherwise dark room.

Tantalizingly slowly, his hand reached out for you, touching the skin of your neck with his fingertips before pulling. It felt like he was pulling at a thread, and all you could do was watch as his hand came back with a piece of twine pinched between his fingers and your disembodied head fell to the floor.

You gasped for air, holding your hand to your chest and panting, unable to figure out how to get air into your lungs when you so desperately needed it. There were other hands on you, gently placed on your hip and upper back, the latter rubbing small circles as you choked on nothing but air.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, continuing his ministrations on your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he comforted you, trying to get you to even out your breathing.

Carefully, his hand reached up to your neck, sweeping hair behind your shoulder, but as soon as you felt his hand on the side of your neck, you flinched away from him, nearly toppling off of the double bed.

He pulled you back as gently as he could, “Y/N,” he said, his voice stern this time as he turned to flick the lamp on. “What happened?”

You shook your head, appreciating how secure it felt to the rest of your body, before pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “It was just a nightmare,” you answered, the sound of your own voice felt disconnected from your body.

“You don’t usually call out my name in your nightmares,” Spencer observed softly, trying to get you to open up more to him, “And you’ve definitely never pulled away from me like that.”

He was right, you had your general recurring nightmares—mostly work related—but you’ve never had anything like this before. You didn’t know how to explain it to him, because how would you explain to your rational, genius boyfriend that you thought you were seeing ghosts?

night two

You felt his eyes on you, Spencer’s big, brown eyes were boring right into yours as you looked at the foreboding structure in front of you. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been watching the stained-glass window, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the ghost to come back.

Sighing, you leaned back in the passenger seat of the car, thinking about the now-cold coffee that you had sitting in the cup holder and wondering if it would be worth the caffeine if it meant you had to pee in the woods at some point in the night.

“You should’ve stayed at the hotel tonight,” Spencer said, his eyes still focused on you.

You pursed your lips, watching the light flicker in the window, “We have a job to do.” That should’ve been enough for him, it had to be enough for you, knowing that at the end of the day, this was just a case and you’d be going home once you found whoever was doing this.

Finally turning his head, Spencer huffed in frustration as he faced the front door of the asylum. “I know you didn’t get back to sleep last night, so you have to be exhausted now,” he told you.

It was nearly midnight now, and you indeed hadn’t gone back to sleep after waking up at two in the morning, but you still agreed to a stakeout when Emily suggested it. Spencer called you out on it then, similarly to what he was doing now, and you were sure he had something to do with you being paired up together. If you ever found out he had voiced a concern about you to Emily, you were going to have issues.

The cool glow of the waning gibbous moon reflected off of the building, the effect only building the eerie feeling in your stomach, winding itself up like a ball of yarn.

With the morning came another body, and it became clear to Emily and the locals that the camera surveillance that had been set up along the perimeter wasn’t doing anything to bring you closer to closing the case. So, she had you and Spencer sitting in a car at the front entrance, each of you armed and on high alert, no matter what your boyfriend thought.

On the other side of the building, Luke and Tara were in another vehicle, keeping an eye on a back entrance that had the potential to be an access point for the UnSub.

Keeping an eye on your window, you squinted as if you could somehow summon Catherine Pence’s ghost. You wished you’d been paired up with Luke again, who at least had seen the mark on the floor, but instead, you had Spencer, who had meddled with your work out of concern for you.

You sighed, reminding yourself that he only did it out of concern for you, wondering how to approach the issue when an all-too-familiar figure appeared in that second-floor window, “Do you see that?” You blurted the question before you could even think about what you were saying.

Instinctively, Spencer placed a hand on his weapon while looking through the windshield of the car, “See what?”

You furrowed your brows, pointing as plainly as you possibly could to the second-floor window where you saw the woman, “On the second floor. Off to the right,” you said desperately, wanting him to see it, wanting him to believe you. “Don’t you see her?”

Spencer’s hand dropped as his gaze went from the building and back to you, “Honey.” You tried to ignore the emotion-filled tone that he gave you, flooding the pet name with an apt amount of concern.

Sitting back in the car seat, “Never mind, I didn’t—” you cut yourself off, “I just thought I saw something.” You tried to play it off, crossing your ankles one over the other and shifting in the seat, trying to keep your ass from going numb.

His eyes were still trained on you, and you tried to ignore him even as he locked the passenger door from the inside. The car remained absolutely silent until you heard a voice come in from the radio, “This is the Death Star calling for the Bat Mobile, over.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of Luke’s voice, “Don’t call this car the Bat Mobile,” you told Spencer as he lifted the radio to his mouth.

“This is the Bat Mobile, we can hear you loud and clear Death Star, over,” Spencer responded, grinning at the way you groaned in response. The poltergeist of it all nearly forgotten for just a moment.

Placing your head in your hands in frustration as you waited for Luke’s response, Spencer reached over and smoothed your hair back, the gesture feeling oddly domestic for a stakeout. Maybe that was why Emily never paired the two of you together. “Yeah, we aren’t seeing anything out here, are you clear on your end?”

Spencer’s ministrations on your hair faltered for just a moment before he answered, “No, we haven’t seen anything.”

“Tara just got off the phone with Emily, they got the lab results back on those tools we found by the latest victim,” he informed you, “The blood on it was a match.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line and shared a look with Spencer. Part of you was grateful to finally feel like you’d made some semblance of progress with the case, but the other part of you felt physically ill knowing that the latest victim had been enucleated using an orbitoclast. Her eyes and sockets were pulverized by a lobotomy pick, and it almost made you feel like you needed a word stronger than sadist.

“Did the medical examiner say the injuries matched the patterns of the other two enucleated victims?” Spencer asked into the radio, holding it close to his mouth as he spoke.

There was a pause before Luke responded, “Uh, kind of.”

You frowned, “What do you mean ‘kind of?’”

Another pause, “The M.E. concluded that the wound patterns are the same on the three latest victims, but the injuries on the most recent one were inflicted antemortem,” Luke explained.

Your eyes widened as the weight of Luke’s words joined the pit in your stomach, her eyes had been pulverized while she was still alive. The M.E.’s conclusion matched the one you had proposed when you saw the blood spatter this morning. You held your breath to stop a sound of disgust from escaping your lips, but you knew Spencer saw it on your face.

“Thanks for the update,” Spencer said, turning down the volume on the radio slightly before setting it on the dashboard.

Swallowing thickly, you placed both of your hands in your lap, studying them as if you’ve never seen them before, “Have you ever gotten the feeling that a case isn’t going to end well?”

You caught him while he was about to take a sip of his coffee, his movement paused for a moment before he took a swig anyway, setting the cup in the cup holder and nodding, “Yeah,” he answered, his voice raspy before he cleared his throat, “I have.”

Running your tongue over your molars, you raised your eyebrows at him in curiosity, “What usually happens?”

Spencer sighed, going back to facing the asylum before he held his hand out for you to take, you obliged, setting your intertwined fingers on the center console. “The case usually doesn’t end well,” he admitted.

“When are you going to tell me what your nightmare was about?” Spencer asked, squeezing your hand as he made conversation, trying to keep the two of you awake through the night.

Leaning your head back, you looked through the sunroof of the car, thrilled to see the sun beginning to rise over the tiny town. “I don’t think it really matters, it was just a bad dream,” you told him, clearly aware of why it mattered.

You even knew why it mattered to him. You’d never pushed him away like that before, but as soon as his hand had gone near your neck, you’d completely lost control of your body. “Look, I know I don’t believe in dream analysis—”

“Oh,” you scoffed, cutting him off. “Yes, you do,” you corrected him, “You do this all the time, you talk about dream analysis, and you claim that you don’t believe in it but then you actually get into it, and you admit that you just don’t like what Freud has to say about it. Then you’ll list everyone who has discredited him before you tell me ‘Jung still has his merits.’”

Spencer was quiet, and you immediately regretted your interjection.

Sighing, you wished you could melt into the passenger seat of the car, “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t think that analyzing my dream right now will do any good, but I just… I’m sorry.”

He was still silent.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you turned your body as best you could in the vehicle, “Do you believe in the afterlife?”

That got his attention. Spencer turned his head to you, concern etched into his face, “Why are you asking me this?”

You couldn’t tell him. You’d break his heart if you told him that throughout the duration of this case, you’d developed a pit in your stomach and started having dreams about dying. “In my dream, it was like… like I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t speak or anything and when I thought about calling for you, you appeared.” You sniffled slightly, “You reached out for my neck and your hand came back with a piece of twine, and then my head fell to the ground—completely detached from my body.”

The lack of judgment in his expression was what finally triggered the first tear to fall from your eye, but you didn’t wipe it away. Spencer moved his hand and deftly wiped at your tears with his fingertips, cupping your face in his hands, “You’re not going to die.”

“Spence,” you said, your voice strained by emotion.

He shook his head gently, “Nope, not as long as I’m around. You’re not going to die on this case.”

Your chest ached as your eyes studied his, “Okay.”

“But,” he continued, “I want you to take a step back on this one. No more volunteering for stakeouts, no wandering to the second floor of the asylum, and no listening to any more of Penelope’s ghost stories.”

Nodding, you silently agreed to his conditions, holding out your pinky and waiting for him to present his. Interlocking your small fingers, you each kissed your hands, and you took a deep breath. “What do you think we’re looking at, Spence? Is it another witch hunt?”

Names and faces of people like Leland Duncan and James Heathridge flashed in your memory, but if there was an overlap there, you haven’t seen it.

You didn’t feel like the BAU had a very good track record in Appalachia, Shane Wyland and the still unnamed ‘Mountain Man’ were proof enough of that, but you hoped that Wyland was long dead by now, and these crimes were too organized for the Mountain Man.

“I don’t know, baby,” Spencer admitted, and you knew that it hurt him to say that to you, especially now.

Looking out the window, your eyes caught on Luke and Tara as they made their way over to your car. Spencer unlocked the doors as you hurriedly wiped beneath your eyes, trying to hide any evidence of your upset before reconvening with the team.

Luke waggled his eyebrows at the two of you, “Good morning, how was your night?”

Groaning, you stretched out your neck, “Ultimately uneventful,” you told him, knowing that if anything of real interest had happened, Luke and Tara would’ve been the first people you notified.

“Prentiss asked us if we’d do a quick sweep of the inside before heading back to the precinct,” Tara said, jutting her chin in the direction of the building.

You and Spencer shared a look, but now that you were grouped within your team, you felt comfortable enough to slip your hand in his as the four of you approached the building. Squeezing his hand, your eyes flickered up to the second-story window, and seeing nothing, you stepped into the building.

The smell hit you. The strong tang of blood mixed with that of isopropyl alcohol burned at your nostrils as Tara swore at the sight in front of all of you. A body hanging from the stairwell, eyes completely destroyed, and while the body was covered in blood, the floor was completely void of any red.

“She’s cleaning up,” you observed, stepping closer to Spencer and looking at the streak marks that a rag had made on the floor.

Luke raised his eyebrows, “She?” He asked, confused about the sudden change in pronouns while Tara immediately went to call Emily.

Spencer nodded, agreeing with you as the three of you watched the body turn in the glow of the sunrise, “A man wouldn’t care about the mess he’s leaving behind.”

This revelation left you more confused than anything, you had no idea how anyone could lift that much dead weight, night after night. “Oh,” you breathed, blood draining from your face as you looked up at Spencer and Luke. “We were watching the building all night,” you reminded them. “We never saw anyone enter, but we never saw them leave.”

night three

“Alright,” Emily started, fully equipped in her Kevlar, she looked around the entryway of the asylum, “Rossi and Tara will keep an eye out front in case anyone tries to make a run for it. Reid and JJ will take the tunnels beneath the west wing, Simmons and I will take the east wing, Alvez and Sheriff Greenbaum will head north, and Y/N and Deputy Perkins will stay here in the foyer in case anyone calls for backup.”

In the dark building, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze before everyone turned on their flashlights. “Let’s end this,” Rossi said, earning a hum of agreement as everyone split off into their respective directions.

You wished Emily had done you the kindness of letting you be paired with Spencer again, but twice in the span of a single case was seemingly too much to ask for. “You ever seen something like this?” Deputy Perkins asked you, shuffling his feet across the floor.

Shaking your head, your eyes focused on where the newest body had been found that morning. The body was cleared out and the cause of death was blunt force trauma, but once the realization that the killer had been in the building the entire time settled in, the team got to work on figuring out some of the logistics.

That was when the sheriff brought up the possibility of the killer using a long-abandoned tunnel system. The town had assumed they caved in years ago, but a bit of sleuthing had revealed that there were still a select number of tunnels for her to use.

As long as I stay in the foyer, you reminded yourself, no wandering.

The stench of isopropyl alcohol still floated through the air; it had likely sept into the porous flooring that had been underneath the body. You made note of the flickering lights in the surrounding area, making sure not to get any of them mixed up as you rested a hand on your firearm.

“Did you hear that?” Deputy Perkins asked you, looking up the stairs and shining his flashlight on them, trying to see if he could find anything in the eerie abyss of darkness.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head in response, “No,” you told him, looking to the left and right of you, wondering if one of the pairs that had been sent off was returning. You hadn’t heard anything coming from the upstairs.

He hummed, taking a step closer to the staircase and setting off alarm bells in your head, “I’m sure I heard a shuffling coming from upstairs.” The pit in your stomach reformed as he planted a foot on the staircase and waved you over, “Come on, we should check it out.”

You hesitated, “We’re supposed to be here if someone needs backup,” you reminded him, nearly pleading with him not to abandon his post.

Perkins shrugged at you before taking another step. “I’m going to check it out, and there’s safety in numbers,” he countered before ascending the steps, making it to the first landing before your feet finally moved.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you followed him up the stairs, taking careful steps so that they didn’t creak beneath you. You reached the second-floor seconds after him, but you shone your flashlight around without any sign of him, beaming the light into the familiar room, “Deputy Perkins?”

You stepped into the room, placing a hand on your firearm as you tapped on the flickering sconce again and looked behind you. Your breathing hitched at the sight of the deputy in front of you, he was crumpled to the floor, his legs folded unnaturally, and there was a lobotomy pick that went straight through his head.

Next to him stood a woman, her clothes were tattered and stained with blood, and she came at you, shoving you to the ground and leaving your gun and flashlight scattered on the hardwood. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you got yourself out from under her while she frantically searched for a missing piece of the puzzle.

She’d used her pick to take out the deputy, leaving her with nothing to gouge your eyes out. You weren’t sure if you should feel grateful as you rolled over and grabbed the closest thing you could, wrapping your fingers around your flashlight and swinging it aimlessly against your attacker.

“No!” She screamed a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound rang out as you hit her on the side with your law enforcement issue flashlight. The object slipped out of your fingers as you sat up and tried to reorient yourself with your surroundings, you couldn’t see your gun, searching for it as she flung your flashlight back at you, the edge of it catching on your forehead as you fell back.

The UnSub straddled your waist, keeping a firm hold on your throat as she held the pick to your eye, having pulled it from the deputy’s head so that she could complete her ritual, “Don’t,” you gasped, “Think—” your voice broke off as vomit rose in your throat. “Think of the mess,” you told her. “You used all the rubbing alcohol,” you reminded her, pleading with her not to take your eyes.

She was seething, very nearly foaming at the mouth above you as instead of stabbing you with the pick, she used the butt of it to crack against your skull. “You took my friends!” She raged, referring to the people that she had murdered, she was collecting them to keep her company.

“No,” you wheezed, shaking your head even through the blinding pain, “I set them free,” you challenged her, resigning yourself to an untimely demise and crying out when she sat you up.

You tried to claw at her, a weak attempt at saving your own life that received a laugh from the UnSub, an almost childlike giggle. “You can be my friend,” she offered, grabbing an already prepared rope from the floor and looping it around your neck before she slung it around an exposed beam, creating a makeshift rig and pulling on it.

Immediately, your hands flew to your neck, trying to stop the rope from suffocating you completely, and it worked for a little while before your feet lifted off of the ground.

After that, you were gone, left standing off to the side as you watched your body hang from the ceiling while the UnSub who would always remain an UnSub to you watched, cackling as she did so. She cackled up until the moment JJ put a bullet in her brain, the sudden death of your attacker leaving your body to drop to the hardwood floor, the hit softened by Spencer and Emily as they caught.

Tossing the rope to the side, Spencer laid you out on the floor and ducked his head to your chest, listening for breathing sounds. He was listening for anything, any sign of life at all.

There was nothing, so he put his hands on your corporeal form’s chest and started CPR, pushing down on your chest in steady motions.

You knelt down to him, watching tears fall from his face as JJ did her best to keep your airway open and Emily frantically radioed for an ambulance, continuously repeating that Y/N is down.

Assuming your hand would go right through him, you placed a hand on Spencer’s back, surprised to find that he was still solid to you. In a sort of daze, you watched him as he tried to save your life, repeating the same three words over and over again, “Come on, baby.” The mantra continued, tears falling onto your shirt.

You felt like you were on fire as if your body was physically burning while you watched life-saving measures be performed on yourself, “Oh, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry,” you said to no one but yourself, knowing that he couldn’t hear you.

Looking to your side, you saw her again. The spirit form of Catherine Pence was watching you die in real-time, and you took a shuddering breath as she knelt next to you, expecting her to impart some sort of spiritual wisdom onto you.

Instead, she placed one of her ethereal hands on the back of your head and slammed both of your forms together. The entire world went dark after that, but you could still hear everything going on, searing pain ran through your entire body, from a throbbing in your ankle to an ache in your ribs to a pulsing in your head, but there was no more pressure on your chest.

“Is she…?” You heard JJ’s voice first, and as badly as you wanted to open your eyes, you just couldn’t gather the strength to do so.

There was heavy breathing and a soft weight on your shoulder, two fingers pressed into the pulse point on your wrist, “She’s breathing. She’s alive,” Spencer answered, out of breath. “Oh, my angel.”

A low groan was the only thing you could muster up.

Spencer shushed you, keeping his head on your shoulder and his fingers on your wrist, “It’s okay, don’t try to talk,” he cooed. “You’re going to be okay, the paramedics are here,” he lifted his head then. “I just want to stay with her.”

aftermath

It was far too bright for you, and the low keening sound that you expelled from your throat was the only way you could think to express that feeling. Whoever was in the room with you understood, turning the brightness down for you, earning a hum of approval from you.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he tried to keep his voice as low as possible.

The universe was taking pity on you, you knew it because you couldn’t feel any pain, which either meant you had finally kicked it or the hospital you were in had given you painkillers.

Your eyes felt like they were stuck together, the way that they get when you wake up from a perfect nap, and it took a surprising amount of energy to part your lips, expelling a deep breath out of your mouth. The action led to a pinching pain in your chest, causing your breathing to hitch, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer said, though you couldn’t imagine what he was apologizing for. “Can you open your eyes? How are you feeling?”

A grunt was all he received in response, the single noise begging him to slow down. Your eyes opened just slightly, looking at him through slivers as he smiled softly at you. His eyes were red and there was a box of Kleenex on the table next to him, accompanied by his phone and a cup of water.

He sighed in relief once he noticed that your eyes were opening, “Hey,” he repeated, “You look good,” he lied to you.

You rolled your eyes at him and his smile only grew, “Hi,” you croaked, your throat swollen and dry as you tried to reorient yourself. You were in a hospital, but the view outside of your window was of a city, not the tiny town that you had just been in.

Noticing your confusion, Spencer reached out to adjust your nasal cannula, “They transported you to a hospital in a city. The local hospital just didn’t have the capacity to treat you,” he explained. “I’ve been with you,” he reassured you, “The entire time.”

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, but he waved you off instantly.

Spencer grabbed the Styrofoam water cup from your bedside table and held it to you, bending the straw so that you could get some water.

Noting his silence, you tilted your head to the side, ignoring the way your brain felt like it had been scrambled, “Are you okay?”

He pursed his lips while setting the cup back down, “I just remember thinking about how I promised you that you weren’t going to die.”

The antiseptic air made you cringe, your body becoming more and more conscious as time went on, “I wandered,” you reminded him, making sure he knew that you broke your promise first.

“That wasn’t your idea,” Spencer challenged, knowing you well enough to say that without having experienced it himself. His fingers nimbly adjusted the blanket on your hospital bed, “You followed the deputy upstairs, it wasn’t your choice.”

In your current state, Spencer wouldn’t let you take any of the responsibility for what had happened in the asylum and even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway, “Is she dead?”

Nodding softly, he took your hand in his, “She’s dead, and someday I’ll let you know her name and read the rest of the case, but today is not that day.” He skimmed his thumb over your knuckles, each of them cracked and bloodied from your fight with the UnSub.

You sighed in relief, a single tear receding into your hairline as you closed your eyes again, “How long have I been sleeping?” You asked, squinting over at your patient care whiteboard.

“Two days,” Spencer answered gently, dragging his fingers up and down your forearm, “You were tired, and your body had a lot of healing to do. It still does,” he added the last part, not wanting you to claim being healed. “Everyone’s still here, waiting for you to be discharged,” he continued, “I should message Emily, actually.”

“And Penelope,” you added, knowing she’d rather hear it directly from him than through Emily.

Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that was as curative as any medicine you could be given, “I’m sure she’ll be waiting for us at the tarmac in Quantico.”

A small smile sprouted on your face, “She’ll be the one landing the plane,” you laughed slightly, interrupted by a fit of coughing. You placed a hand on your chest and winced, inhaling sharply before trying to breathe through the pain.

“What do you need?” He asked you carefully, setting his phone back down after sending his texts.

You shook your head, “Nothin’, just you.”

It was an action that would’ve previously earned a few stares from the team, and at least one wolf whistle from Luke, you and Spencer slipping into the galley together and closing the curtain behind you. Now it was simply the easiest place for you to get some semblance of privacy as Spencer snipped at the old bandaged around your neck.

Your hair was secured atop your head, keeping it out of the ointment as Spencer used his fingertips to carefully cover the rope burn that had been left around your neck. “Does it hurt?” He asked, eyes focused on his canvas while coating the hollow of your throat.

Shaking your head minutely, you closed your eyes, “No,” you told him, a slight rasp still peeking through your tone.

He hummed in response, giving you a small smile as he went back to the tube, putting more ointment on his fingers, “Liar.”

Opening your eyes again, you looked up at him as your face warmed, “Only a little bit,” you altered your answer. At this point, the worst part about the burn was that the nurses recommended keeping it covered, and Spencer was taking his job as caretaker very seriously.

He checked his phone for something before going back to his prior actions, “I think it’s getting better,” he observed, furrowing his brows as he wiped excess ointment from his fingers.

You took his word for it, having been avoiding looking in a mirror at all costs. Seeing the bruises all over your body was more than enough for you. You flinched when someone else slipped into your oasis, Emily shut the curtain behind her, holding out a pack of non-adhesive Telfa pads for Spencer to use on your neck.

“Hey,” you said nervously, wondering if she had another purpose or if she was simply bringing you some first-aid.

Emily smiled nervously; her eyes studied the marks on your throat as Spencer covered them. You expected her to speak, but she just watched in complete silence.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked from her to Spencer, and back to her again. “You should see the other guy,” you joked, earning the slightest smile from the both of them.

“I just wanted to let you know that however much time you decide to take off, it’s yours,” she offered to you, watching as Spencer unwrapped another packet of gauze.

You hummed, “I’m really alright, Em,” you assured her, more than comfortable with the automatic six weeks that you were granted by the bureau. It was the standard set for all agents unless there was an extenuating circumstance that prevented them from returning to work.

Emily’s nervous smile returned, “It wasn’t a suggestion,” she informed you, letting you know that she was more or less forcing you to take the extended time off.

Peering at your boyfriend, you frowned, “You put her up to this.”

Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t. Stop moving so much,” he urged you, trying to stretch the number of Telfa pads he had before he had the chance to go to a pharmacy.

“He didn’t,” Emily iterated, “But he could’ve, and I still wouldn’t tell you,” she added. “We’ll talk more—both of you. For now, I don’t want to see you around the BAU for a while.”

You sighed when she left the galley, Spencer finished his last placement before stepping back. “How do I look?” You asked him, keeping your question mostly rhetorical.

His smile was so gentle that it cracked at your resolve, “Good.”

Looking up at him doubtfully, you leaned against the counter, “You’re a really bad liar.”

“Hey,” he said, carefully wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest the unmarred side of your head on his chest, “You look alive, and that’s good enough for me.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #margotober #angstober

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romanofftherealest · 7 days ago

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Fallen Demon

Summary: She had taken a piece of your innocence and soul, yet the purity and naivety in your eyes remained intact. This world is too brutal and cruel for someone as precious as you, and all she longed to do was shield you from its harshness. But a demon couldn't. You are wrong, she was evil—she is evil—her very nature is inherently evil.

Pairings: Demon Natasha Romanoff x Summoner Female Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags | Warnings: ANGST, bullying, FLUFF, 'I lied put your clothes back on' trend entry

Author's Note: Scheduled repost

⧗

A deep, foreboding sigh escaped her lips as she stood before the ritual circle, the symbols of summoning etched into the floor.

"How foolish," she muttered to himself, "to bind oneself to such a malevolent force once more." Then, she turned around to see you, kneeling on the floor.

Her smirk faltered as she beheld your naked body stiffed on the cold stone floor, head bowed submissively. The portal pulsed with an eerie light, casting long shadows across your trembling silhouette. Her eyes narrowed, curiosity and concern warring in their obsidian depths.

"To…what do I owe the pleasure, princess?"

You slowly looked at her, the fire burning in her eyes was washed with the tears that you had in yours.

"C-can you say I'm beautiful?"

With a wry chuckle that seemed too old for her youthful visage, she stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. "Princess, your request is as intriguing as it is foolish. Summoning a demon for mere sweet words? Truly, the lengths humans go to…"

You felt a strange warmth of shame spread through your chest as you bobbed your throat, you forced yourself not to let any tear slide down from your eyes.

Her powerful form seemed to shrink as she saw the memories in your eyes. The laughter, the whispers, the isolation. You being called names, you eating in a comfort cubicle, and you crying for being locked inside it.

I hate myself.

She heard it, she heard your thoughts. Her eyebrows furrowed as she suddenly grasped the depth of your despair, your self-loathing thoughts echoing loudly in the silence between you. She clenched her jaw but it cracked, giving way to a softer expression.

Summoning a demon for a mere compliment, trading your body, having your soul sucked for words. It was indeed stupid. Desperate. Foolish. Absur—

"Stop those thoughts of yours, princess. They're too loud and not good for someone like you." Her voice had an unexpected caring tone that made you hitch your breath. "Dress yourself, I don't want you catching a cold."

She watched as you scrambled to gather the folded clothes, her supernatural grace contrasting sharply with your human clumsiness. Her observant gaze fell upon the bruises marring your skin and the gum stuck in your hair.

She really tried her hardest not to take you from there.

Her eyes roamed over your improved appearance, a glimmer of approval in her gaze. "Much better," she acknowledged with a nod. "I like the shirt but it is practically a dress on you. Are you auditioning for a role in a horror film?"

You let out a giggle and the sound was music to her ears. "It's all I got, everything's in the laundry." You spoke shyly, tucking a hair behind your ear.

Then, her gaze drifted around your small room, taking in the cramped space with a hint of disdain. "Your room is...cozy," she commented, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I've slept in closets larger than this."

You laughed again, hell, she would thank Jesus for that laugh.

"It's my apartment," you started, "the one you've been to before was my bestfriend's house which was miles away."

"The witch's house," she muttered and you nodded, her lip curling slightly as she remembered the eerie atmosphere of the place. "No wonder it felt...off whenever I was there. It reeked of herbs and spell components. Anyway, has she noticed anything unusual about her beloved houseplant yet?"

Well, the plant was still the same, and your bestfriend hasn't noticed anything when she came back, only your disheveled state and the eerie vibes she said your aura is giving during that day. And she, in fact, did a cleansing ritual on you while you were asleep, you were grateful to still woke up but choking with the smell of her cleansing stick candles and her muttering some gibberish witch prayers you God knows what.

"It's still okay, don't worry." You offered her a reassuring smile as you sat on your bed looking up at her huge form, she is literally having a hard time leaning down since height is much higher than your ceiling. "We can sit on the floor." You said, and then you moved to an indian sit form.

She then hesitantly copied your movements, her big legs folding between each other. "Don't be so sure about that, witches have really strong senses and intuition." She groaned as she finally sat across you, the ritual circle between you both.

"You're being bullied, aren't you?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Her gaze narrowed as she studied your face, taking in the faint bruises that are now hidden in your big shirt, the slight limp in your step, the way you always seemed to be on edge. And then a wad of gum stuck to your hair, a cruel prank meant to humiliate you.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears. Your head was ducked, hiding your face behind a curtain of hair as you stared at your crossed thighs. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft sniffles you were trying desperately to suppress. You then slowly nodded and removed your eyeglasses to messily wipe your tears.

Your parents decided to send you abroad to study, and you were utterly culture shocked by the prevalence of bullying. You hadn't expected that the portrayal of bullying from the movie and series you watched in high school was actually reflecting reality. What's worse is you didn't see that it would happen to you. From being homeschooled to having to go abroad to study, it was the most difficult thing. You only had one friend, Wanda, and she is not here to comfort or protect you the way she did when you were just kids. Wanda had even told you to get the used tissue or get a strand of hair from your bullies and have it sent to her so she could handle the business, but you would just laugh at your witch friend during call with your swollen eyes and reassure her that you could handle it on your own and toughen up.

You are grown now and you told yourself that eventually you need to protect yourself from others, you cannot rely on your family or Wanda in your entire life. But the thought of standing up for yourself felt impossible. All you longed for was someone to step in and put an end to the torment, and you had no idea how to protect yourself from others when you were so worn down by it all.

"You could've asked me to return the favor to your bullies…" she spoke carefully but with a little bit of threat.

Now, you shook your head side by side. "Aren't you supposed to be enjoying this?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. "I mean, you're a demon. Shouldn't you be relishing in my pain and suffering? You should be enjoying people doing cruelty to others. That's how you feed yourselves, with the sin of mankind."

"Princess," she sighed deeply, like she is disappointed but she is. "Is that why you were naked earlier? You ask something of me and I…take you in return so you just prepared yourself right away?"

Her gaze burned to you as well as the shame burning like a hot iron in your skin.

"It's not that I, as a demon, necessarily enjoy your pain and suffering for my own sake." She took a moment to compose herself before continuing, carefully choosing her words to ensure you would understand. As she spoke, you drew your knees up inside the oversized shirt you were wearing, making yourself smaller and more vulnerable as you listened intently. "You see," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I…I was born this way. I was born a demon, and my purpose is to be a punisher of those who have done wrong."

As soon as the words left her lips, she paused, studying your expression to see how you were processing what she had just said and to make sure you're not uncomfortable about it. Then, she continued, "I don't feed myself with sinful acts or relish in anyone's suffering, princess. Instead, I feed on those who have made…contracts with me. That's how I sustain myself. That doesn't mean I am delighted to do it."

"Hey," you crawled and sat right in front of her, your knees touching hers. "You may be a demon but you're not evil. I know that."

The demon's mouth was wide open as she stared at you in disbelief. Your words had struck a chord within her, leaving her stunned and speechless. She had never encountered a human who saw past her demonic nature, let alone voiced their belief aloud so confidently.

"Do I make you suffer?"

"What? No."

"No, when I come to visit you whenever for…for the contract. Do you feel pain whenever I…whenever I…take you?" the demon never stuttered not until this day.

You reached her face and caressed your thumb on her cheeks, "No." It was just one word but you hope it was enough to reassure the burning demon.

She doesn't take joy in sin. Especially not yours, she would punish herself for it. Her purpose is to punish those who commit it and feed herself with those who willingly and mistakenly entered into contracts with her by taking pieces of their souls. You were binded with her and she had come and taken you twelve times as you can remember. And now, you summoned her once again, making it more difficult for either of you to break the bound unless for one thing.

The demon couldn't deny it anymore, she had grown…attached to you, even though she tried to keep her emotions in check. She cannot help but notice how your laughter and hums had filled her with an unfamiliar sense of warmth. How you had clung to her after she had just ripped your innocence bit by bit and pounded a piece of your soul out of you, and after, you would still be asking when she would come back. That's why she would painfully leave as soon as your eyes had fluttered shut as you drifted off to sleep so she wouldn't have to deal with your questioning right after you wake up.

She had taken a piece of your innocence and soul, yet the purity and naivety in your eyes remained intact. This world is too brutal and cruel for someone as precious as you, and all she longed to do was shield you from its harshness.

But a demon couldn't. You are wrong, she was evil—she is evil—her very nature is inherently evil. She was consuming you bit by bit, feeding herself with your soul leaving you weak. She was the very threat she sought to safeguard you against.

She was never terrified of anything or any Gods, not until she thought how your laughter would not bring warmth the hell couldn't bring her. She was horrified at the idea of taking so much of your soul that your laughter would no longer bring the same joy and comfort.

She has to protect you from her, from consuming you more until there is nothing left from you.

She will not be the reason you will lose that light.

"My name's Natasha." The demon spoke after the long silence and staring.

You frowned and quickly rose to your feet, "No, no," Natasha watched you paced back and forth to your apartment. "Why did you tell me your name?!" you shouted, the tears are already falling down the ritual circle beneath you. "Why?!"

"I had to, and you must say it."

"No, no, please I can't. I cannot."

"Princess, please," Natasha pleaded, desperation lacing her voice as she called out to you. She never kneeled before altars nor had prayed to Gods, but never had she felt this urge, this need to be understood, to be heard, by a mere human.

"No! Fireball, that's your name! That's what we agreed upon on what I'll call you!" you shut your eyes in denial, that was the silly nickname you gave her since she didn't want to give her name when you first summoned her. At first you were determined to know it so you would break the contract, but as soon as her visitation became more frequent, that mission was long forgotten.

"Why?!" her demon voice thundered through the room, it was the first time you heard her voice like that again, and you swear you feel like the whole building felt it. "Every human I've ever bound would go to lengths just to know my name, just to break away from me!" she roared, her eyes blazing with demonic fire. "Why wouldn't you say it?!"

"Because I love you, Natasha! I love you!"

Her eyes widening as she stared at you, the demonic fire in his eyes flickering in shock. She blinked, once, twice, trying to process the words that had just escaped your lips.

"I never liked my name not until I heard you say it." She spoke with a solemn smile.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what you just did, you frantically dropped to your knees before her. "No!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with desperation as you reached out to cup her face in your hands. "Please, I take it back! I take it back!" you pleaded, your heart aching with regret.

"Hey, it's okay." Natasha's hand moved to gently hold your right hand that is on her face. "But that's not how it works, princess."

Demons are said to be creatures of fire and brimstone, devoid of human emotions and incapable of shedding tears. But tears streamed down her burning eyes, their tracks visible on her smooth skin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched her begin to glow, a faint, otherworldly light emanating from her form. You are helpless, unable to utter anything but the anguished plea of 'no's' as it left your lips on repeat.

"N-no…" your body trembled, your tears streaming down your face as you shook your head sideways, then, you put the side of your head into her chest as if you're trying to hear her heartbeat, "No, please," you repeated once again, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to say it. I can't lose you, please."

You want to be with her, even if the means is her consuming you inch by inch, even if you're going to feel every bits of it.

"Please, say my name one more time. I like hearing you say it." Holding back tears, you shook your head defiantly, burying your face against her chest. Slowly, you looked up into her eyes, a broken, tear-stained mess.

You would meet the ends of hell to be with her.

Tenderly, Natasha reached out to touch your face, her touch gentle and warm. Her fingers grazed your skin as she softly cupped your cheeks, her eyes locking onto yours. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she gently caressed your face with her thumb.

"I didn't know what I did for God to bring you to me. But I would thank Him profoundly," she whispered, her words quivering slightly. "For you are an angel sent from heaven, a beautiful, unexpected gift. One that is unworthy of a demon."

You would beg God to be with her.

Your lips quivered, you shook your head once more, slowly and deliberately, as if trying to reject the reality unfolding before your eyes.

"I've never been to heavens not until I met you, Natasha..."

"I love you, Y/N. Know that our love will bind us together, always. So long, princess."

The knock at your door jerked you out of your dazed state, suddenly jolting you back to reality. You blinked, bewildered and disoriented, trying to make sense of the jumble of confusing emotions and disjointed memories swirling in your mind and in front of you. You couldn't recall what had happened, why there was a ritual circle beneath where you were kneeling, or why you were a sobbing mess, repeating a name that was now lost in your tongue.

"Hey! Are you okay there?!"

⧗

The senior night was in full swing, students were dancing and having a great time. But there you were slumped in your chair. You just didn't have the energy to get up and dance.

Some of your classmates came to ask if you wanted to dance, but you politely turned them down. You watched as everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives. You tugged at the fabric, trying to get it to sit right on your shoulders. You fidgeted with the lace trim around the neckline, running your fingers over the delicate design. The more you fiddled with it, the more you began to realize how uncomfortable the gown truly was.

As you were messing with your gown, a voice suddenly spoke up next to you. "Hey, did you hear about Tracy?" asked your classmate Darcy as she took the seat beside you. "The one that sticked a juicyfruit in your hair in 2nd year?"

You looked up at Darcy, a deep sigh escaping your lips, "Yeah, it's not exactly something I want to remember. Cutting my hair shorter than I wanted wasn't fun."

Then Darcy said with a grin, "Well? That bitch wasn't here at the party because someone shaved her hair off during a sorority sleepover."

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned your full attention to her. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "You're kidding, right?" you asked in not wanting to believe it. "But she's the president."

Darcy nodded her head eagerly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "It's true, eyebrows included too," she said between laughs, clearly enjoying the shock on your face. "And, and, and remember Aris, the guy that sparred with you in gym class even though you told him you were just a yellow belt and he's a black belt? And you were almost sent to the hospital?"

"Yeah..?" now that's a core memory of yours that you could only cringe when you remember it on a sunny day.

"Asshole lost his national tournament and he got injured for life after his sparring with the freshie transferee."

"Freshie transferee?" you dumbfoundedly asked.

"Yeah," Darcy nodded, trying to be demure once again after she just unleashed a not-so-very demure laugh. "So yeah…I'm just here to deliver that information, I feel like you have a right to since those fuckers did you wrong back then. But please have fun, Y/N, c'mon!" Darcy shouted as she was practically being dragged to the dancefloor by her date, Jimmy.

You sat frozen in your chair, your mouth hanging open in complete shock at what she had just revealed to you. Those two left a scar on you that is still healing up to this day, but still, after hearing what happened to them, you felt bad.

After a few moments, you shook your head, realizing that you needed to get out of there. The room was starting to feel stuffy and suffocating. You stood up from your chair and made your way toward the door, knowing that some fresh air would do you good.

The cool night air was refreshing as you stepped outside, and you took a deep breath, appreciating the moment of solitude.

But then a voice broke through the silence, "This party was a mess, huh?"

There was something about the voice that sounded oddly familiar to you. It was as if you had heard it before, but you couldn't quite place it. But still, you continued standing with your back to the stranger, not feeling the need to turn and address whoever they are. You simply minded your own business, enjoying your fresh air.

"I like your gown."

You were in the middle of rolling your eyes in annoyance, prepared to tell whoever was trying to talk to you to leave you alone. But as soon as you caught sight of the fiery haired girl wearing a black suit that complimented her red hair, you felt intimidated and her face seemed incredibly familiar to you, and your initial reaction was to squint to try and place where you had seen her before.

"T-thanks." You replied, your cheeks burning up.

"Got a name?"

You managed to stammer out a response. "I uhm...it's Y/N," you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Beautiful." She said before slowly walking towards you. "They call me freshie transferee which is so lame by the way."

"Wait…so you're—"

"My name's Natasha."

"Natasha…" you couldn't help but repeat her name softly, feeling a sense of familiarity in the way it rolled off your tongue. You swore to yourself, you have uttered the name before in so many ways.

Then, suddenly, her hand gently touched your face, causing you to snap back to reality with its warmth. Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with her fiery gaze.

"You are as beautiful as the day I lost you."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader

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joemama-2 · 5 months ago

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a dead end | chap. 2

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ wc: 10.8k

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

༺♰༻ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The next morning, you wake up at the ripe time of seven in the morning. Sitting up with a yawn, you do your usual stretches to wake yourself up and to warm your body for the day to come. The cold air of your apartment tickles at your skin as you stand, putting on your robe and slippers, and strutting into the kitchen. It’s still partially dark outside, but the city skyline has a view that welcomes you every morning from your place of residence. You fix yourself your morning green shake, humming a small tune. In just a few minutes, you’re presented with a lovely shake that you pour into a mason jar, along with a glass straw. Walking over to the sliding door to step out onto your balcony and bask in the Tokyo morning.

The calm before the storm.

You notice that it seems much more quiet than usual, which is a little odd to you. But that’s the least of your concerns right now. Looking back over your shoulder to check the clock in the living room, it reads 7:25 am. You usually start getting dressed in about ten-ish minutes. You suppose you can stay outside a bit longer.

You take a slow sip of your green shake, letting the cool, earthy flavor settle on your tongue. The chill in the morning air prickles your skin, but it’s nothing your fluffy robe can’t handle. However, the quiet starts to feel... eerie? Tokyo mornings are rarely this subdued, even this early. Normally, you’d hear the hum of distant traffic, the faint chatter of commuters, or the occasional screech of a train on the nearby rails.

But today? Silence.

Your eyes scan the skyline, seeking something—anything—that might explain the stillness. The buildings stand as steadfast as ever, their glass facades reflecting the faint glow of the rising sun. Yet, there’s something unsettling about the way the city feels almost lifeless. You try to shake off the unease, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your breathing and the vibrant green color of your shake. It’s probably nothing. Maybe it’s a public holiday you don’t know about, and everyone’s sleeping in. Or maybe it’s just your imagination running wild.

You glance down at the street below. Normally bustling with early risers and delivery trucks, it’s eerily empty. A single pigeon hops along the sidewalk, pecking at something invisible to your eye. The faint rustle of wind carries a hollow sound, like a whisper of something distant and foreboding. The clock ticks in your mind—7:27 now. You have just a few minutes before your day officially begins. But something about the morning feels wrong. You step back inside, closing the balcony door behind you, the faint chill lingering on your skin.

You tell yourself it’s just another day. Just another quiet Tokyo morning. But as you head toward your room to get dressed, a faint sound catches your ear—a low, distant thrum, almost like the hum of an approaching storm. It sends a ripple of unease down your spine. Still, you brush it off. After all, what could possibly go wrong in the heart of the city?

Maybe playing some music would heal your unexpected anxiety.

It does, for the most part. Of course, it’s hard to just turn off those emotions of yours, but the music offers a great distraction. After the performance yesterday, you sent out a text to the group chat sometime last night about needing to practice the next day. Although no one outwardly showed their annoyance, you could sense the attitude in their text messages.

You change into a simple white, active long-sleeve. Followed by your black jacket that you usually take with you on your runs, the one that snatches you perfectly. Lastly, it comes with some simple, flared yoga pants and black shoes.

With your anxiety dulled by the rhythm of your playlist, you focus on getting ready for the day ahead. The soft hum of the music fills your apartment, blending seamlessly with the faint rays of sunlight now creeping through the windows. You let the beats guide your movements as you pull on your jacket, the snug fit a comforting reminder of its familiarity. It’s become something of a ritual—dressing for your morning activities, and grounding yourself in the process.

You glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing out the creases in your yoga pants and adjusting the collar of your jacket. You look ready, at least outwardly. The unease from earlier still lingers faintly in the back of your mind, but you shake your head, willing yourself to focus. You grab your phone and slide it into your jacket pocket, the time now reads 7:40.

The messages from last night play in your mind. The short, clipped responses. The curt “Sure” from Mina, the nonchalant thumbs-up emoji from Emma, and the terse “Fine” from Izumi. They weren’t thrilled, that much was clear, but you couldn’t let that bother you. Practice was necessary. You push aside the nagging thought that maybe you’re pushing them too hard. Leadership isn’t always about being liked—it’s about making sure things get done. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. Sliding open your apartment door, you step into the crisp morning air. The city feels a little more alive now, though not by much. A few cars glide silently down the street, and a pair of joggers pass by on the opposite sidewalk. You fall into step with the rhythm of your music, your shoes hitting the pavement in time with the beat.

The streets are still tamer than usual, but you tell yourself it’s nothing. If anything, it’s probably for the best you don’t run into many people today. In a way, the emptier streets feel more serene. The trek to the field you hold practices at is a short one; the perks of living right in the heart of Tokyo.

You focus on the day ahead: the run, the practice, and maybe, if you’re lucky, a moment to breathe.

Of course, you’re the first one there. Getting things set up and stretching your body out some more as the time passes. Yui is next, greeting you with a small hug. Her hair is tied up, clad in a matching, light pink set. Yui’s arrival brings a warmth to the otherwise still space. Her small hug is brief but comforting, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you share. Her matching set contrasts against the neutral tones of the locker room, bringing a pop of color and cheerfulness into the space. She adjusts her ponytail as she sets her bag down in the corner, glancing around. “You’re early, as always,” she says with a smile, her tone teasing but fond.

“Someone’s got to be,” you reply with a shrug, watching as she begins her stretches beside you. The quiet hum of the city outside filters through the windows, but it’s far less noticeable now that you have company. The room starts to feel more alive with her presence. Yui hums a little tune as she moves, her energy light but contagious. You feel your earlier anxiety begin to loosen its grip, replaced with a faint sense of reassurance.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” she asks, glancing at you as she bends into a stretch.

“Same as usual,” you say. “Clean up the transitions, make sure the timing is tight… and maybe work on that lift again.”

Yui groans dramatically, flopping onto the mat for emphasis. “Not the lift again! My arms are still sore from the last time.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “It’ll be fine. We’re almost there; it just needs a little more polish.”

One by one, the others begin to trickle in, each bringing their own energy to the room. The buzz of conversation grows, and with it, a sense of purpose fills the space. This is where you thrive—in the midst of your team, working together toward something greater. Whatever unease you woke up with this morning feels like a distant memory now. The storm can wait. For now, it’s time to focus. Once you do a headcount, your team and you exit the locker room, heading out to the grassy field that’s surrounded by a track. The sun beams down on you all, not too hot but not too cold either. It’s the perfect weather where you won’t break too much of a sweat.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Sayo hovering next to you.

You force yourself not to say anything to her, choosing to look straight ahead. Though her fidgetiness is starting to grate on your nerves, your restraint may prove stronger today.

Sayo awkwardly shuffles as she keeps pace with you, her head slightly bowed, hands nervously fiddling with the hem of her practice shirt. She’s trying to match your stride without actually walking beside you, hovering like a mosquito you can’t quite swat away. Your jaw tightens. You force your eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge her. Not today. Not when you’ve got your own mind to settle and a practice to lead. But her persistent fidgeting—the way she moves her weight from foot to foot, the slight sniffle as though she’s gathering the courage to speak—chips away at your patience.

You slow your pace ever so slightly, the rest of the team going ahead of you both, your voice calm but laced with an edge. “Do you need something, Sayo?”

She freezes, blinking up at you with wide, startled eyes like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh! Um, n-no, I just—” She fumbles over her words, clutching her hands together nervously.

“Then why are you hovering like a lost puppy?” you ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your tone.

Her cheeks flush crimson, and she stammers, “I just wanted to say… you’re, um, really inspiring. Like, the way you handle everything—it’s just, uh…”

You stop abruptly, turning to face her fully. “Listen, Sayo,” you say, your voice firm but not unkind. “If you have something to say, say it. But if you’re just here to tell me how great you think I am, save it for someone else. I’ve got a team to lead, and right now, I need focus, not flattery.”

Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to argue—or maybe apologize—but instead, she just nods quickly, retreating a few steps.

“Good,” you say, already turning back toward the field. “Now let’s get to work.”

Behind you, Sayo lingers for a moment before falling into line with the rest of the team. The tension in your chest eases slightly as you refocus, the field stretching out ahead of you. Today isn’t about dealing with insecurities—hers or your own. Today is about pushing forward, one step at a time.

“So, I want to get some things out the way first.” A hush falls over the group as your voice cuts through the chatter. All eyes snap to you, the sharpness of your words hitting like a cold splash of water. The casual confidence in your tone only deepens the sting, and you don’t miss the way some of them exchange uneasy glances. You stand tall, your hands firmly planted on your hips, surveying the group with an expression that could cut steel. “Let’s be honest,” you continue, pacing slowly in front of them. “Yesterday’s performance was sloppy. Timing? Nonexistent. Stability? A total joke. You know it, I know it, and anyone with eyes would’ve seen it.”

A few of the girls shift uncomfortably, some looking down at the grass, others bristling at your bluntness.

“I could tell you I’m disappointed,” you add, stopping dead in your tracks, your gaze sweeping over the team like a spotlight. “But that would imply I wasn’t already doubtful of your ability to pull this off in the first place.”

A beat of silence follows, heavy and charged. You let it hang, watching their faces carefully—gauging who’s about to crumble and who’s gearing up to prove you wrong. “This isn’t about making you feel bad,” you continue, your tone softening just a fraction—not enough to be comforting, but enough to show you mean business. “It’s about reality. And the reality is, if we want to compete—if we want to succeed with our abilities and as a team—we need to be better. Way better. So, today, we’re fixing this mess. Timing, stability, and everything in between.”

You step back, clapping your hands once for emphasis. “Pair up. We’re starting with synchronized drills. No excuses, no shortcuts. If I see even a hint of laziness, you’ll be doing laps until the sun goes down. Got it?”

A chorus of half-hearted “Yes, Y/N” responses fills the air, but you’re not satisfied.

“I said, got it?” you bark, your voice sharper this time.

“Yes, Y/N!” they reply in unison, louder and more resolute.

“Good. Let’s move.”

You watch as they scramble into pairs, your sharp gaze tracking every movement. Doubt may have been your starting point, but today, you’re determined to turn it into drive—for them and for yourself.

As the girls hustle to pair off, you notice the range of emotions on their faces—some eager to prove themselves, others visibly irritated, and a few clearly nervous under the weight of your scrutiny. The grass beneath their feet is damp from the morning dew, and their sneakers leave faint imprints as they shuffle into position. You don’t give them the luxury of hesitation. “Faster,” you snap, clapping your hands again. “We don’t have all day.”

The girls move with more urgency now, pairing up as instructed. A few of them adjust their ponytails or tighten their shoelaces, while others stretch their arms, shaking out the tension before the drills begin. You cross your arms and pace along the line of pairs, your sharp eyes dissecting their posture and stance. A few girls straighten up as you pass, clearly hoping to avoid your wrath. Others avoid your gaze entirely, their focus trained on the ground or their partner.

“Pair one,” you call out, stopping in front of the first duo. You take in their positions with a critical eye. “Anya, you’re leaning too far forward. Sayo, your footing is a mess. Fix it before you make each other trip.”

Sayo flinches at the critique, but Anya mutters a quick “Got it,” already adjusting her stance.

You move to the next pair, your tone no less sharp. “Pair two—Carmen, loosen up your arms. You’re not a robot. Chloe, stop slouching. What are you, ninety?”

The girls flush at your words, hurriedly correcting themselves as you step to the next group.

By the time you’ve made it through all the pairs, the atmosphere on the field is tense, the air thick with unspoken determination. You don’t sugarcoat anything, and they know better than to expect you to. That’s not why you’re here.

“Alright,” you say, turning to face them all again. “Now that you look less like a group of untrained amateurs, let’s see if you can act like a team. We’re starting with synchronized lunges. Pair up in a straight line and match your partner’s pace. If even one of you is out of sync, you’re starting over.”

A collective groan ripples through the group, but you raise a single eyebrow, silencing it instantly. “Save the whining for someone who cares. Let’s go.”

The girls shuffle into formation, their movements stiff as they line up across the field. You stand at the front, hands on your hips, watching like a hawk as they begin the drill.

“Left leg first!” you bark. “One... two... three!”

The line moves as one, or at least they try to. A few pairs stumble out of sync, lunges uneven, and you immediately catch it.

“Stop!” you shout, holding up a hand. “You call that synchronized? I’ve seen toddlers with better coordination. Back to the start. Again!” They groan louder this time, but your glare shuts them up. They return to their starting positions, sweat already starting to bead on their brows.

“Left leg, again. One... two... three!”

This time, the movement is a little better, though still far from perfect. You spot a misstep in the middle of the line and cut them off again. “Do it right, or don’t do it at all,” you snap, pointing directly at the offenders. “I’ll make you do this all day if I have to. Your choice.”

By the fifth repetition, their movements finally start to sync up. The line flows more smoothly, and the pairs begin to find a rhythm.

“Better,” you admit begrudgingly, though your tone is far from approving. “But ‘better’ isn’t good enough. Keep going. I want perfect.” You step back to observe, your arms still crossed as you watch them push through the drill. The sun climbs higher in the sky, and the sound of synchronized footsteps echoes across the field. Despite the exhaustion beginning to set in, you can see the spark of determination in their movements.

Maybe they’ll prove you wrong after all.

It has to have been at least two hours of synchronized activities before you break the group for some water. The group collectively collapses into the grass as you call for a water break, their faces flushed and hair sticking to their damp foreheads. Yui, ever the drama queen, stumbles toward you with exaggerated weariness, clutching her water bottle like it’s the only thing keeping her alive. “Stop being dramatic,” you tell Yui, who theatrically leans against your body, gushing down her water.

“Oh, captain,” she groans, leaning heavily against you with all the weight of a person on the brink of collapse. “You’re trying to kill us, I swear.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow, gently nudging her off you. “Stop being extra, Yui. You’re not dying. You’re just out of shape.”

The other girls laugh weakly, some sprawled out on the grass while others sit upright, guzzling water like they’ve just crossed a desert. A few exchange playful jabs, their camaraderie shining through the exhaustion.

“Out of shape?” Yui gasps, clutching her chest as though you’ve mortally wounded her. “I’ll have you know I ran two miles yesterday.”

“And yet here you are, acting like two hours of practice is the end of the world. You know we still have more to go.”

Yui pouts but doesn’t argue, instead taking another dramatic swig of her water.

You take a moment to survey the team, your sharp gaze softening just slightly as you watch them. Their exhaustion is real, but so is their determination. You’ve pushed them hard today, and though they’ve grumbled, they’ve risen to the challenge.

“Alright, listen up,” you call out, clapping your hands to get their attention. The scattered conversations die down as the girls look up at you, still catching their breath. “You’ve done better these past two hours. I’m seeing more coordination and more focus. But don’t think for a second we’re done. We’ve got a long way to go, and the next game isn’t going to wait for you to get comfortable.”

A few of them groan, but the majority nod, their expressions determined.

“We’ll take ten,” you continue, crossing your arms. “Hydrate, stretch, and get your heads back in the game. After this, we’re moving on to formations. And I don’t want to see anyone dragging their feet.”

The girls groan again, louder this time, but you catch the faint smirks on some of their faces. Despite the grueling pace, they know you’re pushing them for a reason.

“Ten minutes,” you repeat, your tone firm. “Make it count.”

As the team disperses to stretch or lie back on the grass, Yui flops down dramatically next to a pair of her teammates, still grumbling about “cruel and unusual punishment.” You shake your head with a faint smile, turning your attention to the clipboard in your hand. There’s still plenty of work to be done, but you can’t deny the faint sense of pride bubbling beneath your strict exterior.

The minutes pass by quickly and soon, you’re back and at ‘em. At least, almost all of you are. “Where’s Mina?” You ask Izumi, who was her partner.

Izumi looks back towards the locker room before responding. “Um…she said she wasn’t feeling good. She was getting nauseous?”

“Is she sick?”

Izumi shifts nervously, glancing between you and the direction of the locker room. “I don’t know. She didn’t really say. She just looked pale and ran off before I could ask more.”

You frown, glancing toward the building, concern creeping into your chest. “Did she mention anything earlier? Did she seem off to you before practice?”

Izumi shakes her head. “Not really. She was fine during warm-ups. I thought maybe she just overdid it in the heat.”

You sigh, glancing back at the team, who are starting to reassemble on the field. “Alright.” You nod to Yui, “Keep the group running through the last drill we practiced. I’m going to check on her.”

Yui nods and jogs back to the others with Izumi as you make your way toward the locker room. The echo of your footsteps fills the narrow hallway as you push open the door, the cooler air inside a welcome relief from the heat outside. “Mina?” you call, your voice cutting through the stillness.

At first, there’s no response, but then you hear it—a faint sound, like muffled breathing, coming from one of the stalls of the bathroom. You move closer, knocking gently on the door.

“Mina? It’s me. Are you okay?”

There’s a pause before a shaky voice responds. “I… I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

You can tell she’s not fine. Her voice is strained, and trembling, and it sets off alarms in your head. “Mina, if you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me. What’s going on?”

Another pause. Then, more hesitantly: “I think… I think I just got overheated. I’ll be okay in a second.”

You lean against the stall door, lowering your voice to sound less authoritative and more understanding. “Mina, it’s alright if you’re not feeling up to it today. You don’t have to push through if something’s wrong. Let me help.”

There’s a long silence before the lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Mina stands there, her face pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes are glassy, and she looks like she could collapse at any moment. Her skin is pale, almost green-looking and your concern heightens.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, avoiding your gaze. “I didn’t want to slow everyone down.”

Your frown deepens as you place a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “You’re not slowing anyone down, Mina. Your health comes first. Sit down for a second.” You guide her to a bench and grab a nearby water bottle, handing it to her. She takes it with shaky hands, sipping slowly. “Did something happen?”

She takes big gulps from her water, emptying the entire thing in just a matter of seconds. Afterward, she wipes some water from the corner of her mouth and replies. “No, I mean…” she takes in a deep breath before continuing. “On the way here, there was some…crazy guy on the bus. He got a little too close to me and when I tried pushing him back, he bit me. The cops and ambulance came and they said everything looked fine.”

Your stomach drops as her words sink in. “He…bit you?” you repeat, disbelief clear in your voice and eyes widening.

Mina nods, her expression tight with discomfort. “Yeah, it was so weird. He was acting all twitchy and… off, you know? Like, not just drunk or high. He looked sick. His skin was all blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot.”

A cold chill creeps up your spine, but you force yourself to stay calm for her sake. “Oh my god. Did the medics check you out? Are you sure everything’s okay?”

She nods again, but there’s a hint of doubt in her eyes. “Yeah, they said the bite didn’t break the skin, so I should be fine. Just bruised. They gave me a tetanus shot to be safe, though.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to mask your unease. “Okay. That’s good, but you should have told me sooner. You’re clearly not feeling well, and this could be more serious than you think.”

Mina looks down at her hands, fidgeting with the empty water bottle. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. Everyone was already staring at me on the bus, and then practice… I just wanted to forget about it.”

You crouch down in front of her again, making sure she meets your gaze. “Mina, listen to me. You’re not causing a scene, and it’s okay to ask for help. If something feels wrong—anything—you have to let someone know. Do you feel weird? Lightheaded? Feverish?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “I feel a little off, but it’s probably just the heat and not eating, like you said. I swear, I’m okay.”

You study her face closely, noting the slight sheen of sweat still clinging to her pale skin. Something doesn’t sit right, but you don’t want to alarm her further. “Alright, but I want you to rest for the rest of practice. No arguments. And I’m walking you to the nurse after this to double-check.”

Mina starts to protest, but you cut her off with a firm look. “Non-negotiable.”

She sighs, slumping against the bench. “Okay. Thanks… and sorry for making you worry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” you say softly. “Just focus on feeling better, alright?”

You give her one last wary look before turning on your heel and exiting the room. As you step back onto the field, you glance over your shoulder from where you just came. Her words replay in your mind, and the uneasy feeling in your gut refuses to settle. A crazy guy on the bus. A bite. The blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes.

That doesn’t sound right. And the fact that she still felt obligated to come to practice makes you feel pretty damn guilty. You sigh and rub your forehead. I’ll check up on her in a bit.

You turn your attention back to the team. “Alright, let’s pick it up! Positions!” you call out, your tone sharper than intended. The girls scramble to fall into line, but your focus drifts, your gaze flickering back to the locker room every few moments.

You clench your jaw, reminding yourself of your duties as captain. Though the knot in your stomach grows tighter with every second. You push the nagging thoughts aside for now, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“Yui, tighten up your formation,” you bark, pointing at the gap between her and Izumi. “If I can drive a truck through that space, it’s too wide. And Sayo, stop looking at your feet—you’re going to trip if you keep that up!”

The girls groan but adjust as instructed, and for a moment, you lose yourself in the rhythm of practice. The synchronized movements, the stomp of shoes against the grass, the shouts of encouragement from teammates—it’s enough to temporarily drown out the unease lingering in your chest.

The minutes pass, turning into another hour. Mina has sludged her way out of the locker room and back out onto the field. Giving her a wary look, hands hovering out in case of anything. “Hey, you don’t have to. Go home and call the do—”

“I’m okay.” She rasps out in a voice that internally shocks you. It sounds manly and guttural. The complete opposite of her usual sweet-toned voice. She pushes past you with a strength that almost knocks you back. Huffing slightly and watching her fall into her normal position. The girls give her concerned glances, some asking her if she’s alright.

Mina shrugs them off with a small nod and a hand wave, but the paleness of her skin is starting to get almost ghostly. Your lips purse, keeping an extra focused eye on her as you slowly guide the team back into action. Her shoulders sag more with each passing minute, and it’s clear she’s struggling, even if she’s trying to hide it.

She’s just sick. When the time comes to lift Emma up in the air, Mina is one of the girls holding onto her right leg. “And hold it…and hold it…” you call out, doing a small countdown to five. “Firmer, firmer!”

And all is going pretty well. You finally clap, just about to announce for Emma to come back down when Mina’s arms shake. Before anyone can prevent it, she’s releasing her hold and falls backward. Emma’s suddenly dropping to the grass on her back. She lets out a gasp and shriek, face scrunching from the hard impact delivered to her spine.

There are immediate gasps, your eyes widening as you rush over. “Oh my god!” You gasp, some of the girls helping Emma up slowly into a sitting position. “Shit, are you okay?”

Emma, face contorted into a pained grimace, holding a shaky hand to her back. “Mmngh…w-what the fuck, Mina?!” She shouts, opening her eyes to glance over at the other girl.

It’s only then that you all look back to see that Mina—once steady and standing—is now on the floor convulsing. Foamy, white liquid ran down the corners of her mouth, and her eyes roll back until there’s nothing but just plain whites.

Chaos erupts in an instant. The girls scramble back, some screaming, others frozen in shock as Mina thrashes on the ground. The guttural, strangled sounds coming from her send chills down your spine, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, heart pounding in your chest.

“M-Mina!” you finally manage to shout, dropping to your knees beside her. Her limbs jerk violently, the foam spilling from her mouth bubbling up in horrifying bursts. Her pale skin now looks almost translucent, veins visibly darkening beneath the surface. “Someone call an ambulance!” you bark, snapping your head up to the team.

Izumi fumbles with her phone, shaking so badly that it nearly slips from her grip. The others huddle together, whispering in panicked tones.

You try to hold Mina steady, your hands trembling as you attempt to keep her from hurting herself further. “Stay with me, Mina! Just hold on!” But her body feels unnaturally hot, like touching the surface of a boiling kettle.

“She’s burning up!” you exclaim, pulling your hands back instinctively. The heat radiating off her is almost unbearable.

Emma, still clutching her back and wincing, snaps, “What the hell is happening to her?!”

“I don’t know!” you reply, your voice tight with fear. “Izumi, hurry up with that call!”

“I—I’m trying!” Izumi stammers, tears streaking her face as she finally presses the phone to her ear.

Mina’s convulsions begin to slow, but the sight doesn’t bring relief. Her body goes limp, her chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. The foaming has stopped, but her lips are stained white, and her once-bright eyes now look dull, unfocused.

“She’s not—she’s not breathing right,” Yui whispers, her voice trembling.

You glance at Mina, your stomach twisting in knots. “No, no, no,” you mutter, leaning closer. “Mina, can you hear me?”

But she says nothing.

A small, collective hushed silence falls over the group—fearing for the worst.

It’s only when Rina sparks up that it grounds you once more. “W-We need to get her to a hospital, now!” She stammers out, equally as terrified. “The ambulance won’t get here in time and—”

“My car!” Sayo cuts her off.

You snap your head toward Sayo, your heart hammering in your chest. “Your car—where is it?” you ask, scrambling to your feet.

“Just over by the parking lot!” Sayo replies, already fumbling in her pocket for the keys.

“Okay,” you say, forcing yourself to take a steadying breath. “Rina, Yui—help me lift her. Gently. We don’t want to make anything worse.”

Rina and Yui nod, though their faces are pale and tight with fear. The three of you move quickly, carefully sliding your arms under Mina’s limp form. She’s alarmingly cold now, her earlier burning heat seeming to have evaporated, replaced by a clammy chill that clings to your skin.

Her body feels unnaturally heavy as you lift her, and every labored breath she takes rattles ominously in her chest.

“Hurry!” Sayo calls, already halfway to the parking lot.

The rest of the girls stand frozen, wide-eyed, and clutching each other as you and your helpers carry Mina toward the car. “Stay here!” you shout over your shoulder. “Wait for the ambulance, and don’t let anyone else out onto the field!”

The urgency in your voice seems to shake them out of their daze, and a few nod shakily, beginning to organize themselves. By the time you reach Sayo’s car, your arms are trembling from the effort of carrying Mina, and you’re practically gasping for air. “Open the backseat,” you say breathlessly.

Sayo fumbles with the keys, unlocking the doors just as the three of you maneuver Mina inside. Her head lolls unnaturally to the side, and you fight the wave of nausea rising in your throat.

“I’ll drive,” Sayo says, climbing into the driver’s seat with trembling hands.

“Fast,” you say firmly, climbing into the passenger seat. “You focus on the road—I’ll guide you and keep an eye on her.”

Sayo hesitates for a moment but nods, starting the car as Rina and Yui carefully close the back doors once they’re settled in.

“Go!” you urge, your voice tight with urgency.

The tires screech as Sayo pulls out of the parking lot, the car lurching forward. You glance back at Mina, her pale face barely visible in the dim light of the car.

“Hang on, Mina,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “We’re getting you help. Just hang on.”

But deep down, a gnawing dread has already begun to take hold. Something about this—about her—feels beyond the realm of a simple sickness.

The car speeds down the road, the hum of the engine accompanied by the shallow, wheezing breaths coming from Mina in the backseat. Sayo’s knuckles are white as she grips the wheel, her eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror.

“Are we close?” she asks, her voice tight with fear.

“Just keep going straight,” you reply, leaning back to check on Mina. Her chest rises and falls sporadically, her face pale as death. The foamy residue still clings to the corners of her mouth. You reach out to touch her forehead, only to pull your hand back in shock. It’s like touching ice.

“Mina,” you say softly, trying to coax some kind of response. “Can you hear me? We’re almost at the hospital, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Her head lolls slightly to the side, her lips moving faintly as though she’s trying to say something. You lean closer, straining to hear her, but the words are nothing more than guttural croaks, incoherent and deeply unsettling.

“She…she’s getting worse!” Yui proclaims, putting a hand on the driver’s seat. “Go faster, Sayo!”

She gasps out and furiously nods, putting a heavier foot down on the accelerator. “I’m going as fast as I can!” Sayo snaps, her voice shaking. The car swerves slightly as she overtakes another vehicle, earning a blaring honk.

Behind you, Mina suddenly jerks. Her body spasms violently, her head snapping back against the seat with a sickening thud. Audible sounds of bones cracking fill the tense car.

“Oh my God!” Rina cries out, causing you to twist in your seat. Her eyes snap open, but they’re not right—her irises are a murky, sickly yellow, and her pupils are blown wide, giving her an almost predatory look.

There's still quietness as no one moves or speaks. Sayo is still driving but now focusing most of her attention on the rearview mirror. Rina and Yui feel frozen and stuck, staring down at Mina who is lying right next to them. Your hands tremble, eyes darting across her features and you really have no fucking idea what’s happening right now.

“…Mina?” you whisper, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

Her lips peel back into a grotesque snarl, revealing teeth that seem sharper than they should be. Slowly, her eyes blink focused, and the first thing she’s looking at…is you.

There’s a small second of peace before she suddenly lunges forward, a guttural growl ripping from her throat as her hands claw at the air.

“Shit!” you shout, scrambling back to block her, your back hitting the dash.

“What’s happening?!” Sayo screams, glancing back in panic.

“She’s—she’s attacking!” you shout, trying to hold her back as she thrashes wildly. Rina and Yui are taking her by the shoulders, attempting to bring her still against the seats.

“M-Mina!” Yui shouts, followed by Rina’s terrified gasp at the sight of Mina’s veins bulging from her neck—her strength almost inhuman. Her nails rake across your arm, leaving angry red welts in their wake.

You wince and grit out in pain. “Sayo, pull over! Now!” you yell.

The car swerves violently as Sayo slams on the brakes, skidding to a halt on the side of the road. You barely manage to hold Mina back as she claws and snarls, her movements jerky and unnatural. Rina, who had been trying her best to subdue the crazed woman, scrambles to open the door, practically falling out of the car in her haste. “Get out! Get out!” she screams.

You fumble with your seatbelt, finally managing to release it and stumble out of the car. Sayo is already out, her face pale and eyes wide with terror, Yui quickly following right after.

Mina is still in the backseat, thrashing and snarling like a rabid animal. Her yellow eyes lock onto you through the window, and for a moment, you feel like prey under the gaze of a predator. “What the hell is wrong with her?!” Sayo cries, backing away from the car.

“I—I don’t know!” you stammer, clutching your bleeding arm. “This isn’t—this isn’t normal!”

Before anyone can respond, Mina slams her head against the back window, the glass cracking under the force.

“She’s gonna break through!” Yui screams.

You take a shaky step back, your mind racing. Whatever’s happening to Mina—it’s not something any hospital can fix. “W-what the fu—”

“Hey!” A shout startles Yui, Rina, Sayo, and you. Looking over to the left to saw a man haphazardly parked right behind Sayo’s car. An angry glower on his face as he stalks forward. “What the hell do you think you dumb girls are doing driving like that?! Huh?! You’re going to kill someone! You almost killed me!”

As soon as he gets in front of you three, the window of the backseat shatters open and Mina is all but tossing herself out of the open space, shards of glass sticking into her sickly skin. The man doesn’t even see it coming as she hurdles herself atop his body. The two go down, he lets out one shriek before Mina takes a big bite from his cheek.

The man’s blood-curdling screams ring out through the streets. There are still only just a few pedestrians—who stop and stare at the commotion. Everyone gasps and watches as Mina pulls back from the man, teeth and hands coated in blood. He contorts and pulses wildly, a similar snarl taking place from his voice box.

He claws at the ground, back bending backward in an unforeseeable way. He’s crawling himself up into a standing position, movements twitchy and appearance matching that of Mina’s. His first target is an elderly woman who stops to watch the scene with wide eyes. Repeating the same actions Mina brought upon him, while Mina herself is animalistically scrambling toward a couple a few feet away.

You step back slowly, trembling with fear and confusion. Fixated on the bloodbath that’s currently taking place before you. Rina looks over at you. “Y-Y/N, what do we—”

A growl is heard from the alleyway next to her and a figure emerges at lightning speed, landing on top of her. “Ah! No! No!” You stumble back onto your ass, getting a front-row view of Rina currently getting her neck mauled on. You scramble backward, your mind reeling, unable to comprehend what’s happening as Rina’s screams pierce the air. She flails beneath the weight of the attacker, her hands desperately trying to push the figure off of her, but it’s no use. The thing on top of her—its face distorted, skin stretched tight over its bones—grips her with unnatural strength. Her cries turn into guttural gasps as her body twitches under the assault.

A sharp, nauseating crack echoes from her neck as the creature sinks its teeth in deeper. You hear Rina’s voice, weak and panicked, but the words barely register over the roar in your ears. Blood spills, staining the pavement beneath her as the figure rips into her with the same ferocity as Mina. Your body moves instinctively, but you’re paralyzed by terror, your hands and feet glued to the ground. You don’t know if it’s the shock of seeing this unfold so brutally in front of you, or if it’s the fear that any second, you could be next. Your hands tremble violently as you try to push yourself to your feet, but your legs feel like they’ve been drained of all strength. “Rina!” Yui cries out, her voice breaking with the weight of helplessness. She’s frozen, just like you, staring at the scene with wide, horrified eyes.

Sayo, however, seems to snap into action. She yells for you all to move, but her voice shakes with panic. “We need to go! NOW!” Her hands are shaking as she pulls at the door handle, ready to get back in the car.

But it’s too late.

The alley is suddenly alive with motion. A chorus of snarls fills the air as more figures emerge, crawling and dragging themselves out from dark corners. They move with an unnatural speed, eyes gleaming with hunger, faces contorted with madness. Every movement they make is jerky, erratic—like they’re not quite in control of their own bodies as if whatever virus this is has taken full control of them.

“Get up!” Yui shouts, grabbing you by your jacket and lifting you up to your feet with a strength you didn’t know she had. You allow her to control your body, rushing you back over to Sayo’s car when one of the crazed creatures scrambles before you two. He snarls and throws himself at you. Once again, you’re freezing, seeing your life flash before your eyes.

Out of nowhere, you’re roughly shoved to the side and Yui takes your place. The creature uses her as his next chewing victim.

The sight of Yui's body being overtaken sends a shock through you that feels like a cold wave crashing over every inch of your skin. You stumble back, gasping for air, trying to process the nightmare unfolding in front of you. The creature sinks its teeth into her shoulder, tearing at her with an intensity that makes you want to look away, but you can’t. You feel the bile rise in your throat as her screams echo, her body jerking beneath the creature’s assault. Her blood spills freely, staining the cracked pavement beneath her. Time seems to slow as you watch helplessly. Yui’s eyes are wide with terror, her mouth trying to form words that never reach you. She reaches out with trembling hands, her fingers just barely grazing yours as the creature’s claws rip into her flesh.

"Yui!" you scream, voice cracking in desperation. But the words are hollow—nothing more than a whisper of the helplessness coursing through you.

The sight of your best friend being eaten alive is something that haunts you, shivers running up and down along your bones, with tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You see the life slowly leave her eyes, the will to fight deteriorating as her arm falls and her head lolls lifelessly to the side. There are chunks of her flesh being ripped from her body carelessly, and two more of the creatures deciding to feast too. “Yu…yui….”

Sayo is frozen for a moment, eyes wide with horror, before snapping into action again. “Get to the car! NOW!” Her voice is a whip, sharp and commanding. She’s already moving, her body running with a frantic energy. You can’t find it in yourself to follow after her, unable to tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of you.

The creature whips its head up and around, finally looking toward you, its eyes gleaming with an insatiable hunger. A growl rips from its throat, and its ragged breaths fill the air. You freeze again, every muscle in your body locking up. No, this is really it. This is it. This is how I die.

But just as the thing reaches you, a blinding flash of movement catches your eye. Out of nowhere, a figure—Sayo—swings a heavy metal rod, crashing it into the creature’s head with a sickening thud. The thing jerks back, howling in pain before collapsing onto the ground, twitching and spasming. “Move!” she yells again, her voice rough and urgent. She grabs your arm, pulling you away from the creature and toward the car. “Get in the damn car! NOW!”

She’s practically tossing you into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you as you’re shoved in. The door slams shut just as another figure reaches for you, fingers clawing at the window. The car engine roars to life. She hurriedly gets into the driver’s side and speeds off, tires screeching against the asphalt.

You don’t know how you’re still breathing. The adrenaline pumping through your veins keeps you from collapsing as you stare back at the chaos you left behind. The alleyway is now a warzone, figures crawling over each other, blood splattering in every direction. The sounds of screams and snarls fade into the distance, but they’re burned into your memory, an unshakable image of the horror that has taken hold of the world.

The city around you is unrecognizable, swallowed by chaos. You don’t know how long you’ll be safe, or where you’ll go next, but for now, the car is the only sanctuary you have left. And even as you drive away, the memory of Rina, Yui, and the others—their screams and their fate—haunts you. You don’t know what this virus is, or how it spread so fast, but you do know one thing: things will never be the same again.

You’re disassociating, staring off into space—unaware of the blood that still dribbles down your arm. Sayo sneaks a glance at it, her expression even more panicked. “D-don’t worry. We’ll go to the hospital. They’ll know what to do.”

You don’t respond, breathing erratically while your body continues to shake from the spark of events that just happened. Tears fall from your eyesockets down to your hands, the weight of seeing your beloved friends die before your eyes finally settling in. When you slowly look over to Sayo, she’s giving you a small smile—as if it’s her attempt to reassure you. She removes one hand from the wheel and places it atop yours. “Don’t worry. We’ll—”

“Sayo!”

An oncoming car seems to appear out of nowhere. Ramming right into the driver’s side of Sayo’s car. Neither of you has enough time to react before the violent impact sends to car flying off to the side, tumbling. The world spins violently as the car flips over, metal screeching and glass shattering around you. Each tumble feels like an eternity, the force slamming your body against the interior. Your head whips back and forth, the seatbelt digging into your shoulder and chest. The sound is deafening—screams, crunching metal, the air knocked from your lungs. The airbags are activated, knocking your head backward into the headrest.

When the car finally stops, it’s upside down, the frame crumpled like a tin can. Everything is eerily quiet except for the distant sound of muffled horns and faint cries in the chaos beyond. You hang there, disoriented, your body trembling. Blood trickles down your forehead and into your eyes, stinging as you struggle to get your bearings. The first emotion you register is pain, a really bad fucking pain. Your entire body stings and it hurts to even open your eyes.

“Sayo...” you croak, your voice barely a whisper. You look to your left and see her slumped over, her body motionless. Her face is pale, a deep gash on her temple bleeding profusely. Her hand, the one that had been resting atop yours, now hangs limp in the air. “No... no, no, no,” you whisper, panic clawing its way up your throat. You reach out with shaky hands to touch her, to shake her awake, but your arm feels like it weighs a ton. You struggle against the seatbelt holding you in place, your fingers fumbling at the buckle.

“Nnngh, s…sayo!” you yell, louder this time, your voice breaking. There’s no response, her chest barely rising and falling. Tears blur your vision as you tug at the belt with all your might. Finally, it releases, and you collapse onto the roof of the car—now the floor—with a thud. You wince sharply, face scrunching up as shards of glass dig into your arms and legs. Slowly, you crawl toward her, ignoring the pain shooting through your body. Every movement feels like a monumental effort, but you manage to place trembling fingers against her neck, searching for a pulse. It’s there—weak, but there. Relief washes over you in a wave, but it’s short-lived.

A low growl echoes from somewhere outside the car. Your body stiffens, adrenaline flooding your veins again. You glance toward the shattered window and see them—those things—dragging themselves closer. Their twisted, jerking movements are unmistakable, and their glazed, hungry eyes are fixed on the wreckage. Your breath catches as you look back at Sayo. She’s unconscious, defenseless, and the blood pouring from her wounds is like a beacon to them. You don’t have time. You need to move.

“Sayo, wake up!” you plead, shaking her gently. “Please, we have to go!” But she doesn’t stir.

The growls grow louder, and closer. You glance outside again and see one of them pulling itself through one of the broken windows, its jagged nails clawing at the edge of the frame. Its mouth is smeared with blood, its teeth bared in a grotesque snarl. Your body screams in protest as you push yourself to a scramble. Maneuvering yourself through what once was the windshield swaying unsteadily. You grab Sayo under her arms, ignoring the aching in your shoulder and the blood oozing from your own injuries. “Come on,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face as you drag her toward the opposite side of the car. “Please, just hold on.”

The creature lunges, its hand reaching for you, but you kick at it wildly, desperation fueling your movements. You manage to pull Sayo free, collapsing onto the asphalt outside. The world around you spins, but you force yourself to stand, hoisting her up as best you can. With her added weight onto your weak body, it feels like you’re carrying a ton of bricks.

The growls are deafening now. They’re everywhere. You don’t know where to go, but you know you can’t stay here. Your head swivels around, catching sight of more unlucky souls who reign victim to the ravenous creatures. With Sayo’s weight heavy in your arms and your own body screaming in protest, you stumble forward into the chaos, hoping against hope that somewhere, somehow, safety exists.

A few more feet and your legs give out completely. You collapse to the ground with a cry of pain, Sayo’s limp body rolling out of your arms and onto the asphalt. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, but it feels like the air is being squeezed from your lungs. Every muscle in your body screams in protest, exhaustion threatening to overtake you. “Sayo...” you whisper, your voice trembling. You crawl toward her, dragging yourself across the rough ground. Her face is pale, and her chest barely rises and falls. Blood continues to seep from her temple, staining the pavement beneath her. You reach out, brushing her hair back from her face with trembling fingers. “Please... wake up.”

The growls are closer again, the sound reverberating through the air like a sinister chorus. You glance over your shoulder and see them—more of those creatures, their jerky, unnatural movements. Panic surges through you. You force yourself to stand, though your legs feel like they might buckle at any moment. You grab Sayo under her arms again. “Come on, Sayo,” you plead, tears streaming down your face. “Don’t do this to me. I can’t do this without you.”

However, you fail once more when your back is hitting the hard ground, unable to carry her. A gasp and hiss leaves your lips, fingers clenching into your palm. With a look over at Sayo and then at the creatures who haven’t yet noticed where you two are, a singular escape route forms in your mind.

“I…I’m sorry,” you mutter, grabbing her by her arm and dragging her body closer to yours. Once she’s within enough reach, you’re pushing her body underneath the abandoned car next to you. Her head lolls to the side, and you force yourself to ignore the guilt clawing at your chest. “Please forgive me,” you murmur, voice cracking. Her limp form disappears into the shadowy gap, just small enough to conceal her. You can feel the tears streaming down your face as you lean in, tucking her arm and leg securely out of sight.

You press a trembling hand to the car’s frame, biting your lip to stifle the sobs threatening to break free. “Stay hidden, Sayo,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I-I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

The creatures’ snarls grow louder, and you know your time is up. Forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs, you take a step away from the car, drawing their attention. Their heads snap toward you, eyes locking onto your movements. You swallow the fear rising in your throat and stagger in the opposite direction, away from Sayo’s hiding spot.

“Come on, you bastards,” you mutter under your breath, every step an act of defiance. “Come after me.” As the first creature lunges toward you, your heart pounds with terror and determination. If you can lead them away, if you can buy Sayo even a few more seconds, then maybe—just maybe—there’s still hope.

The hospital is just a few minutes away, you remind yourself. You can do this. And if there’s one thing you’re good at—one thing that’s always been your saving grace—it’s cardio. You were a track star in high school for Christ’s sake! Blowing your opponents out of the water each and every single time. Your legs may be trembling, lungs burning from the sheer panic and exertion, but you’re still standing. You’ve run marathons in the past. You’ve pushed through exhaustion, pain, and every screaming muscle in your body before. This is just one more finish line to cross.

The snarls behind you grow louder, erratic footsteps pounding the pavement as the creatures close in. You grit your teeth and push off, forcing your legs into motion. Each stride is uneven, but you focus on moving forward, the rhythmic sound of your feet striking the asphalt your only anchor to reality. You dodge debris, skirting around abandoned cars and crumpled road signs. The air feels thick with the coppery tang of blood, but you can’t let yourself falter. Your pulse thunders in your ears, drowning out the world as you weave through the chaos.

Just a few more minutes.

The hospital’s towering silhouette comes into view as you round a corner. Relief washes over you, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. But there’s no time to slow down. You risk a glance over your shoulder and see the creatures still chasing you, their distorted faces twisted in an unnatural hunger. They’re relentless, their speed almost inhuman. Your mind flashes to Sayo, hidden under that car, and you grit your teeth harder. You can’t let this be for nothing. You won’t.

The entrance is closer now, the hospital’s glass doors still intact. The flickering glow of emergency lights illuminates the way, casting long shadows that dance ominously. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps as you barrel toward the doors, willing your body to hold out just a little longer. Adrenaline surges through your veins, giving you one final burst of energy. You’re almost there—just a few more steps, a few more strides. You don’t dare look back again, knowing the sight of those creatures gaining on you would only slow you down.

With a desperate lunge, you reach the doors and slam your fists against them, praying they’ll open. “Help!” you scream, your voice raw with desperation. “Someone, please!”

But the sight that welcomes you makes your blood run cold.

It’s just as bad inside.

The hospital lobby, which should have been a beacon of safety, is a scene straight out of a nightmare. Bodies are strewn across the floor, some motionless, others twitching with the same unnatural spasms you witnessed earlier. Blood smears the walls, the once-pristine white tiles now slick with crimson. Overturned gurneys and shattered medical equipment litter the space, forming a chaotic battlefield. You freeze in place, your hope shattering like the glass that crunches under your shoes. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker erratically, casting eerie shadows across the carnage. The air reeks of antiseptic and decay, a nauseating mix that makes your stomach churn.

A guttural snarl snaps your attention to the far end of the room. One of them is crouched over a body, tearing into flesh with an animalistic fervor. Its head jerks up at the sound of your intrusion, blood dripping from its chin as it locks eyes with you.

And it’s not alone.

More figures emerge from the shadows, their movements jerky and unpredictable. They were patients, nurses, doctors once—now they’re something else entirely. Their hospital gowns and scrubs are tattered, their faces contorted in twisted expressions of hunger and madness. You stumble back, your body screaming at you to run, but your feet feel glued to the floor. Panic claws at your chest, every instinct screaming that you’ve walked into a death trap.

Behind you, the snarls of the creatures chasing you grow louder, their footsteps closing in fast. You’re trapped between two horrors, with no clear path to safety. Your breath hitches, your mind racing for a plan. Think, Y/N. Think! Your eyes dart around the room, searching for anything—a weapon, a hiding spot, a miracle.

Then you see it: a stairwell door to your left, its glowing exit sign a small beacon in the chaos. It might be locked, but it’s your only shot.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you break into a sprint toward the stairwell, dodging overturned furniture and bodies. The creatures inside the lobby howl in unison, their focus shifting to you. Their footsteps echo behind you, joined by the ones you left outside.

You don’t look back. You can’t. You throw yourself at the stairwell door, praying it will open.

You don’t think you’ve run up the stairs faster than you are right now, intent on going to the very top floor. It shouldn’t be that bad, right? Other survivors probably have the same idea as you and are all congregated on the top floor. There are others. There has to be.

The stairs are narrow, each step pounding beneath your feet like a countdown, but your legs don’t seem to feel the strain. Adrenaline has taken over, pushing you forward with a ferocity you didn’t know you had. Your lungs burn, but it doesn’t matter. You’re running from death. You have to. You glance behind you for a split second—only a flash, but enough to see that the creatures are gaining. Their frenzied howls fill the stairwell, echoing off the walls like a chorus of nightmares.

Keep going. Keep going.

The landing at the top of the stairwell finally comes into view, and your heart leaps with a mix of hope and desperation. You slam your hand against the door to the top floor. It’s locked.

Panic floods through you, but you force yourself to stay calm and stay focused. You try the handle again, but nothing. The sound of snarling grows louder. Think. Think!

You step back for a moment and scan the stairwell again. There’s a small window at the top of the door. Maybe—just maybe—you could climb through it. But you’ll have to act fast.

With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you grab hold of the doorframe, pushing yourself onto the small ledge beneath the window. You force the window open with all the strength you can muster, the glass scraping against the metal frame with a screech. Your heart sinks as you try to squeeze through the opening. The window isn’t wide enough.

This can’t be how it ends.

You hear the snarls grow closer as the creatures continue to climb the flights of stairs, hellbent on reaching you. The sound is unmistakable—thundering footsteps followed by guttural growls. You have no time left.

You fall back down to your feet, desperately slamming your shoulder into the white double doors, aggressively pounding and twisting the doorknob as if it’ll magically open. “Please! Please! Is someone there?! Please open the door!”

Your voice cracks as desperation claws at your throat, but no one answers. The weight of the silence presses down on you like a heavy blanket. Your fists pound harder against the door, your breath coming in frantic bursts, but the door remains unyielding. Tears sting your eyes, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s all in vain. If you’re completely alone in this place.

You fall back against the door, your back pressing against it as you slide down to the cold floor, hands trembling at your sides. Your thoughts race. Where did everyone go? What happened to the survivors, to the people who should have been here? The sounds grow even closer, and they must just be right below you.

And for a second, you wonder if it’s worth fighting anymore.

You press your palms to your eyes, trying to wipe away the tears, but they only seem to come harder now. It’s overwhelming, the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. The fear, the grief, the endless chaos... you feel like you’re drowning in it. You slide down until your butt hits the ground, arms falling limply to your sides. The sight of the creatures climbing up the final count of steps happens in slow motion. Their arms outstretched, mouths pulled wide as they prepare for a delicious meal—eyes a terrifying mix of yellow and red.

A series of every event you’ve experienced in your life flash through your eyes. Getting your first scratch as a kid, your first kiss, your first car, finally being recruited onto the team…and the faces of the people who died in front of you, your name being the last thing they uttered before they met their ungodly demise.

And after all the fucked up shit you’ve done in life, that seems to sting at you the most. Plus the fact that you left Sayo back there in favor of saving yourself.

A cleansing for every sin you’ve committed. You force yourself to face them head-on, staring death in the face, and all you can think about is how much this will hurt.

Just as the fastest one is about to grab hold of you, the double doors open.

You have no time to protest as the back of your jacket is being tugged backward with a quick firmness that leaves you startled. Eyes widening and gasping as the doors closed just as fast as they opened. You’re being forced back up to your feet, being pushed back up against the wall. The sharp edge of something is held up against your neck. Slowly glancing down, it’s an axe.

When you dare to finally look up at the owner of the axe, a set of bright blue crystals glares down at you. His mouth pressed into a dry smile, and his white eyebrows meet together with a deep crease in the middle. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’m in a charitable mood today?”

He leans closer, digging the axe just slightly into your skin that it causes you to push yourself back against the wall, squirming.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

taglist: @sukuxna0 @heartsteelkaynconsumer @myahfig4 @kirachuyuu @sypnasis

@ducky1232 @oromanticism @2late4breakfast @beabamboo @boothillglazer

@sleepyyammy @tbzzluvr @sukuxna0 @heartsteelkaynconsumer @myahfig4

@kirachuyuu @sypnasis @ducky1232 @oromanticism @2late4breakfast

@beabamboo @boothillglazer @sleepyyammy @tbzzluvr @lovely-maryj

@n1vi @ojdubije @reixtsu @istha5

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animeyanderelover · 4 months ago

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Envelope for Teru ❤️

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, jealousy

Tags: @killuagirly

Valentine's Day Special: Envelope Prompt

Black hair, brown eyes, president of the volleyball club, member of the Student Council, in his second year just like you. That was the man you dedicated hours of your thoughts to. That was the man you had decided to write a letter to which you had meant to deliver to him personally on this day. An unexpected mergency meeting in your own club had wrecked those plans though and instead you had tasked one of your good friends to deliver the letter in your place.

Now you stood there, barely able to mask the shock as the boy who had received your letter walked over to you. He was handsome, yes. He was in his second year, yes. He was also a President of something in this school and a member of the Student's Council, yes. That's where the similarities already stopped though. Instead of black hair, he had blond hair. Blue eyes where chocolate-brown eyes should have been. Not the president of the volleyball club and not just a mere member of the Student's Council but the president of it. Perhaps it had been your fault for not just giving your friend the name of the boy this letter had been adressed to. Part of you wanted to be mad but the vague description you had given her fit him quite perfectly too.

Minamoto Teru.

You were sure that he had already received his fair share of letters and chocolates today as he was the school sweetheart of most girls here. Initially you had assumed that this would be why you would be able to dismiss this situation easily and explain the misunderstanding. It was that carefully concealed smile and the sparkle in his blue eyes that had the words dying on your tongue. He looked... happy that he had received a letter from you. You could only pray that this wouldn't be the case for otherwise everything would get awkward and uncomfortable very fast.

"Hey."

Oh god. He was bashful, wasn't he? Normally Teru was always a collected and calm individual. Now his voice carried that dooming undertone of sheepishness. Blue eyes that usually always managed to hold eye contact had to avert your gaze shortly as if he had to gather his nerves before they met your face once more. Most foreboding would have had to been the pink blush on his face.

This letter contained your entire sappy heart, secrets and thoughts you had never dared to voice out before. You had always kept it vague, far too vague though as otherwise you were sure none of this would have happened. You'd never been good in being direct. Now this would be your downfall, wouldn't it?

"I honestly didn't expect this letter from you. I... Well, I always thought that you didn't really feel for me that way. So when I received this envelope I was really, really happy."

This was all going in the wrong direction. You couldn't even look him in the eyes as he stepped closer, close enough that you could stare at his shoes all whilst trying to reign in the silent horror seeping through your veins. How were you supposed to undo the drama that you would undoubtedly happen?

Teru must have mistaken your inability to look at him as shyness. An assumption you couldn't have necessarily blamed him for.

"I'm honestly a bit ashamed that I didn't notice sooner and that you had to take the first step. But I'm still glad for this. Would you like to-"

He cleared his throat, causing your lips to purse into a thin line. It was the pure sincerity in his voice that was killing you brutally right now. You'd rather prefered if he would have just thrown the envelope in your face. This was Minamoto Teru though. A modern day prince who looked and behaved perfectly that part.

"Would you like to go out with me this weekend? Whatever you want to do, I'll be happy if I can just spend time with you."

Could some deity up there just have a hole swallow you please? Now all of his attention was on you, awaiting an answer you couldn't give him. At least not the answer he was expecting at least. Time was far too short though and within only moments your silence alerted the boy in front of you. One of his hands reached hesitantly out for yours, eyebrows furrowed as he observed you. When his fingers brushed against yours, your hand pulled away as if his mere touch was burning you.

"(l/n)?"

That was it. The way your name glid from his tongue, concerned and gentle, did it for you. That's when your lowered head lifted up to meet his gaze finally. You wondered just how tortured your expression must have looked in that moment as all the muscles in your face were pulled taught in a tormented grimace.

Those few seconds where he clearly didn't know what was wrong only added to the agony. You wondered if that would have been preferable though the moment there was finally that slow spark of realisation and his face just fell, muscles going slack with shock.

“This letter is for me, right? You made this all to confess to me didn’t you? …Didn’t you?”

There was the tiniest tremor in his voice as he repeated the last few words and took one step closer to you. Only for you to immediately erase the closeness by stepping back. Your face was burning but not with comfortable heat. Your stomach was churning and not erupting with those little butterflies you had hoped for.

Wrong person. He was the wrong person.

"You... you like someone else. That letter was meant for another boy in the Student's Council."

It was the shock that rendered him unable to take any actions initially as he just muttered those words out, blue eyes growing vacant as he glanced down at the envelope decorated with doddled hearts.

Still, despite the fact that your eyes were focused on his shoes you could still feel the moment those eyes landed on your figure again.

"For whom was this letter meant?"

The hair on your neck stood up. Gone was the previous bashful warmth to his voice. Now it had taken on a firmer edge and you were not able to unhear the tinge of bitterness. You would not tell him though. You just wanted to rip that letter out of his hands and go home. When you attempted to reach out for the envelope, you were shocked in an unpleasant way when Teru moved his hand away and held it out of your reach.

"Who is the boy you wrote this letter for, (l/n)?"

It sounded like he wasn't asking but was expecting an answer. An answer you could not give him though. Deciding that it was not worth it, you abandoned the letter and Teru altogether. You evaded the hand that shot out to hold you back just in time, feeling only the ghost of a touch as the tips of his fingers brushed over your arm before you dashed away as fast as your feet could carry you in that moment. Surprisingly enough he didn't follow you, a fear that you had initially held.

You didn't turn back, were too much of a coward as you feared the sight you could be potentially met with otherwise. Maybe that was for the best. Otherwise you would have witnessed how blue eyes glared at the envelope he had just minutes ago viewed so fondly. How his face grew contemplative for a few seconds before turning cold. How he started to rip it apart, tearing apart your confession for someone that wasn't him and threw it in the bin as he made his way back to school with a concealed expression hiding the ugly jealousy that now reared its head.

The prince wasn't as gentlemanly as he would appear after all.

#yandere x reader #yandere toilet bound hanako kun #yandere jibaku shounen hanako kun #yandere tbhk #yandere teru #yandere minamoto teru #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #tbhk x reader #teru x reader #minamoto teru x reader

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hinge · 16 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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darkserenity24 · 6 months ago

Text

𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚

Loki x Reader

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 2 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 8.4𝘬

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙠𝙞, 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙠𝙞, 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘩 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦) 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 (𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭) 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.

“Are you done already?”

“Yes.”

You squinted at the canvas beside your own. “What is that?”

“A tree, of course.”

“A tree? That doesn’t look like a tree. Looks like a coat rack or something.”

You instantly felt his heated gaze on your form. “I beg your pardon?”

“What? I’m just being honest here. That’s what you want right? Honesty?” You shrugged with a sly smirk. “I am a professional at this, after all.”

“Oh? Well if we are both being truthful at the moment, I’d say yours needs a bit more work.”

“No it doesn’t.” You protested, eyes growing wide as you witnessed a large paint brush dipped in bright pink making its way over to your canvas.

“No need to be shy, pet. Here, let me assist.”

“No! Loki, stop!”

“Just a touch of this will make it all better.” He grinned evilly.

You quickly smacked the paintbrush out of his hand and it flipped backward. Horror filled your body when a large bright pink splatter landed on his face. Loki sat there in shock as the paint dripped down Loki’s face in long streaks.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but all that came out was a high-pitched peal of amusement.

Your laughter started off slow but grew louder the longer he sat there with paint all over his face, blinking dumbly.

“Oh my god.” You wheezed, holding your stomach. “I totally did not mean for that to happen, but honestly you kind of deserved it for trying to mess with my painting.”

Released from his brief bout of shock, he slowly turned to you, a foreboding expression darkening his striking features.

You tried to slow down your laughter for the sake of his pride, hopping off your stool to provide some kind of assistance. “Here, let me help you. I’ll go get a cloth or someth-”

“Oh, no. Not so fast.”

He picked up the paintbrush and in an instant, you felt the cold swatch of paint on your cheek.

“No!” you gasped, utterly dumbfounded, shooting Loki a look that was immensely more menacing than his.

“Why would you do that?” you cried.

“Payback, darling.”

You wanted to slap the smug grin off of his perfect face.

“Payback? What I did was an accident. That was on purpose!”

“Nevertheless, it was an attack. I do not respond to attacks on my person kindly.”

Your eyes narrowed, a devious expression growing on your face. “Let’s see how you respond to this.”

Reaching across the table, you scooped up a glob of dark blue before quickly smearing it over Loki’s dark hair.

He tried to move out of your way, but it was too late. The damage was done and the war was won. Temporarily.

“You little demon!” was all you heard before a more pink liquid was thrown your way.

Before you knew it, you both were covered in paint and so was your apartment kitchen.

The fighting only stopped when you heard the gentle slam of the front door of your apartment.

You both turned to see Thor standing by the entrance with his arms crossed, giving you both an incredulous look.

“I only left for five minutes…” he trailed off, observing the chaos that quickly ensued in his absence. You could only imagine what you looked like from his point of view.

You were embarrassed to admit this wasn’t the first time that you and Loki went to war whenever Thor left the two of you alone.

Three months had passed since the incident at Thor’s birthday party and both brothers had taken it upon themselves to grant you with their presence more often than not. You were not doing well after John’s attack. The drug that he slipped you really affected your memory of that night, and you only recall bits and pieces of what happened. But you still remembered enough.

The drinks making you feel nauseous. John taking you to the bathroom. The struggle that ensued between you, then Loki bursting in and… well, basically almost killing the man. Even though your memory was hazy, you knew you never witnessed him be that angry before. You were also confused because you thought he hated you. Regardless of how he felt about you, he came to your rescue when you needed it and you’ll always remember that.

Thor and Loki both took it upon themselves to be your protectors. Your Asgardian guardian angels of sorts.

At first, you didn’t know how to feel about it since you were used to being alone most of the time, but then it started to feel nice. They made you feel safe and knew you needed someone to be with you even if you didn’t realize it yourself. You never had to leave your home unless you wanted to, and when you did they both were right there alongside you. Together, they brought you groceries, brought in your mail for you, and even helped you ship some paintings to your customers.

Somedays were a bit harder than others, and if you were overstimulated you would turn off your phone for a few hours and lay in your bed in the dark. This really worried them, and they basically bullied you into not ever doing that again. This made them show up unannounced just to check in on you, and when you got tired of buzzing them in you gave them a copy of your apartment keys. It was clear you couldn’t stop them from coming over, and if they truly cared about you this much you didn’t want to.

With their constant presence in your life in your time of need, you began to feel safer. You began to feel normal again and wanted to let them know they didn’t need to be around all the time anymore. In your opinion, they certainly had more pressing matters to attend to.

It was obvious that Thor felt awful about what happened that night. He felt that it was his responsibility since John attacked you at his party after all, but you didn’t agree with him. John had crashed the party, and no one noticed because they were all busy having fun. That’s what people do at birthday parties. How was Thor, you, or anyone else for that matter supposed to know John Walker was a huge creep?

He never told you what they did with him. You knew he was still alive (all thanks to Thor) but you still had no clue where he was, and didn’t bother to ask. You didn’t care, just as long as he was far away from you and any other woman in the near vicinity. Ever.

You told Thor on several occasions that he was not to blame. No one except John Walker was to blame, but you knew that didn’t erase his guilt. You hoped one day he would be able to forgive himself, and so you made it a point to show him how well you were doing now. You made it a point to show both of them.

You didn’t second guess Loki’s increased presence in your life after the incident.

After the attack, Loki must have punished himself so much that he actually became a more bearable person to be around. Nice, even. At least to you. Initially, it had you on edge, not having been used to this side of him. You were used to his snarky comments and glowering expressions being thrown your way, but those were rare now. In fact, if he did insult you, it was done with a tinge of playfulness. It took you a little while to learn to interact with him in a normal way. His sudden softness towards you felt unfamiliar and took some getting used to.

You had been waiting for the act to drop for months now, but he kept it up. The strange part was that you actually started to enjoy his company like you did Thor’s.

You looked forward to seeing him whenever he and Thor came by to hang out. Whether it was to go for walks in the park or eating dinner together. You especially enjoyed it when they came over for movie nights.

About once a month, you would host a movie marathon at your loft apartment. You invited several of your other friends, but Thor and Loki would always make sure to show up if anyone else hadn’t.

Unfortunately for anyone else, Thor loved watching the Fast and the Furious movies, so the night would be filled with endless car races, crashes, explosions, and terrible dialogue. Thor would be the only one extremely excited about it. But you always persevered through it because if those movies made your friend happy, then so were you.

On top of that, you had Loki there to trade entertaining critiques about the movies with.

One night, Thor was on a mission and couldn’t make it to the movie marathon. Used to them coming in a pair, you assumed no one would come by. To your surprise, Loki showed up to your door with a bottle of wine and your favorite snack.

“How did you know I liked these?” you asked as you let him in, taking his coat and placing it on the rack by the door.

“Easy.” He drawled, walking over towards your kitchen to grab two wine glasses out of your cabinet. “You are not as discreet as you think you are. I have witnessed you consume these treats many times at Stark’s tiresome gatherings.”

“Really?” you questioned in mild surprise. “I didn’t think anyone would notice that. Seems I underestimated how observant you are.”

“That was your first mistake,” he smirked while carefully pouring the dark liquid into the glasses. “Nevertheless, it is not exceedingly difficult to identify the things you enjoy. You do not exactly hide your preferences or distastes.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you raise a challenging brow at him. “What are you trying to say? That I’m obvious and predictable.”

The sound of his deep, silky laughter had your heart skipping a beat. Loki shook his head, walking around the kitchen island to hand you a glass.

“Oh no, certainly not, dear. Not to the average person at least.” He grinned, long fingers lightly brushing past yours as you grabbed the glass from him.

“Now let’s take advantage of Thor’s absence and watch anything but those dreadful racing movies.”

You happily agreed, placing your snacks on the coffee table as you searched through movies on the TV screen. Unfortunately for Loki, you had a series in mind that was equally as bad, if not worse than The Fast and the Furious movies.

The Twilight Saga.

The other day he made the mistake of admitting he wasn’t aware of who Edward Cullen was when you made a vampire joke.

As expected, he complained, no– provided “intellectual commentary” throughout the entirety of the first two movies while you nodded, hummed, and acknowledged his issues and concerns with what was happening on the screen.

It amused you to no end, and you actually found that you were enjoying your time with him. Alone.

That was the first time you and Loki hung out together without Thor or anyone else present. The first time you had to admit to yourself that you didn’t feel the lack of Thor’s absence. The first time it was becoming clear to you that Loki was actually a great person to be around.

And it was the first moment you felt something other than annoyance or anger towards him.

Then you began to notice more and more things about him. His quick-witted quips and natural charm. His uncanny ability to know just how to make you laugh whenever you were feeling down.

Then you started to notice details. How the light reflected off of his jet black silky curls. The sound of his smooth, deep timbre drew you in, compelling you to hang on to every word he articulated with perfect precision. How flawless his brilliantly white teeth looked whenever he smiled, and how mesmerizing his piercing, forest-green eyes were—you could rave about them endlessly.

Then you started to think about him when he was gone, excitedly looking forward to the next time he'd come by your place. Alone.

That’s when you realized that you were falling for Loki Laufeyson, and this completely devastated you.

The scariest part about your newfound feelings was that they seemed to have been there all along, just lingering in the back of your mind. Hidden somewhere deep within you just waiting to be discovered. They were covered in a mask of ire and fear the whole time, even before the incident.

How could you have developed feelings for your ex arch-nemesis of all people? It was wrong, and as hard as you tried to ignore them, those feelings didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

Something had to be done before you ended up falling too deep. So you thought about it hard and deep. But instead of handling the situation in a mature manner, you decided to do the complete opposite.

One morning Loki arrived at your apartment, just as you expected him to. You opened the door and were met with a gentle smile and a warm greeting. You were tempted to shut the door right in his face just to get him to stop looking at you that way.

“Hi, Loki,” You responded lacklusterly, giving him minimum eye contact.

A dark brow rose high on his face. “Are you going to let me in? Or am I to stand out in your hall the rest of the day for your neighbors entertainment?”

“Yeah, um sorry. Come in.”

You backed away from the door allowing him in, not missing the incredibly enticing scent that he always carried with him as he walked past you.

He sauntered further into your place with an air of familiarity, not seeming to notice your awkwardness as you watched him nervously.

Opening your fridge he peered inside of it quizzically.

“Stark’s having another one of those god awful parties tonight.” You heard him grumble. “ I was thinking we’d go together this time. I need to appear preoccupied with someone else so that I do not get pulled into another dim-witted conversation with any of the other attendees.”

You didn’t say anything, just watching as he perused your pantry next.

“Because if I am forced to hear about the recent trends of that inconsequential thing you humans call the ‘stock market’ once more, I may be inclined to sew a mouth or two shut, and I don’t think anyone would be too happy about that.”

He closed the pantry doors, giving you a look. “It seems as if the items in your food chamber are getting low. We shall stop by the farmer’s market later today and-.”

“I need space.” You blurted out haphazardly.

You couldn’t help it. There was no easy way to begin the conversation you were about to have with him. It had to be done cold turkey.

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Space?”

“Yes,” you nodded, swallowing nervously. “You… you don’t have to be around so much anymore, you know? I appreciate what you did for me all those months ago and what you’ve both done for me since then, but I don’t need you nor Thor around all the time. I’m just fine on my own.”

Loki slowly straightened to his full height, arms crossing over his chest as he observed you curiously.

“Yes, I understand that. You are very capable of taking care of yourself. We do not think you to be a helpless damsel, at least I don’t.” He shrugged lightly. “But I do not mind our visits. They allow me an escape from Thor and his band of buffoons. I assist in their missions when I can but I would much prefer being here instead.” He chuckled. “I am afraid I’d go completely mad if I had nowhere else to spend my time.”

You didn’t ask, but you assumed the “buffoons” he was talking about were the Avengers. This would have made you laugh if you were not trying to separate yourself from him.

“That can’t be true. I’m sure you have plenty of ways to spend your time other than coming here or going grocery shopping with me. Other people would probably kill to have only a second of your time.” You huffed. “You should go out more. Meet new people. That way you’ll gain more friends or even potential suitors. If you’re interested in that sort of thing I guess.”

“No. I am not interested in any of that. ” He grimaced. “Sounds horrifying.”

“What about Asgard? When was the last time you visited?”

His face slackened as he glanced towards the floor. “It has been… some time. Even so, I am in no rush to go back anytime soon. I do not believe the Asgardians are very eager for my return.”

Your heart broke at the look of uncertainty he was trying to hide. The man felt unwanted in his own realm and here you were, yet another person trying to push him away.

“I’m sorry to hear that. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.” You whispered.

“I do not care. That does not matter since I am here and not there.” He raised his gaze back to you. “If you feel as if you are hindering me in any way, believe that you are not.”

He took a step towards you. The gentle but nervous look on his face only increased your own apprehension.

“I’m aware that we did not have… the best of starts. I was not very welcoming to you. It was… incredibly troubling when I think back on how I treated you.” His brows furrowed deeply. “But, I experienced something akin to an awakening during the aftermath of Thor’s party. I should not have said those horrible things to you. They were not true, and I put you in a vulnerable state. Anything could have happened to you-”

“But nothing did, because you were there.” You assured him. He saved you.

“Yes, but if I had not arrived in time-”

“But you did. And I’m safe. I’m okay.” You reminded him, gesturing to yourself. “None of that was your fault or your responsibility, Loki. What happened was-”

“-the result of me being incredibly cruel to you. You wouldn’t have stumbled into that monster’s grasp if I didn’t ruin your night with my foolishness.”

“You don’t know that.” You stressed. “Maybe I would’ve or maybe I wouldn’t have. The fact of the matter is, that was not on you. But for some reason, you continue to blame yourself for that, and that is the real reason why you’re here. That’s why you come around so much. It’s because you feel guilty.”

He stared at you incredulously. “Is that what you believe? Truly? That I am only here out of guilt? That I feel obligated to be around you?”

You swallowed, looking away from his exasperated expression. “Yes. Maybe.”

You know it was not what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth. How could you develop feelings for someone who felt as if they owed it to you to be your friend from a guilty conscience? Why else would he have switched up his attitude towards you so fast?

His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to figure out the right thing to say but couldn’t.

He quickly composed himself, taking a deep breath before nearing you. He stopped only a foot away and carefully placed his hands on your arms. You shivered at the warmth you felt coming through your shirt. He was so close that you had to crane your head to meet his eyes. The combination of him touching you and looking at you was becoming too much for you to handle.

“I believe you have a great misunderstanding of the situation, darling. Let me explain something to you. Do I still carry guilt for the part that I played in your attack that night? Yes, and I don’t believe that I’d ever be rid of that.” He admitted jade eyes troubled.

“But, despite that, I do not linger around you out of some pitiful notion of guilt. To be allowed the chance to spend time with an incredibly smart and talented woman only to make myself feel better? How foolish would that be.” he scoffed. “I have a feeling that both you and I understand that I do not willingly go anywhere I do not want to be, or be in the presence of others I do not care for. As difficult as this may be to get through that stubborn head of yours, I am only here because of one reason. It’s because I want to be.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a rush of warmth filling your chest.

“I want to be here. As infuriating and stubborn as you can be, I do enjoy your company. I enjoy spending time with you. Truly,” He confessed softly. “That is it. Everything I said about needing to get away from Thor and the others was partially true. Nevertheless, they are mere excuses to hide the fact that I willingly come here to see you at every chance I get. That I look forward to it every day, and that my mood seems to worsen when I am not able to. Just ask Thor.”

You shook your head, not knowing what to say to that. “Loki...”

“It’s pathetic, I know, but I have already accepted it. I just want to be a friend to you.”

His chest visibly rose and fell as he took a breath. “If you’d allow me to be.”

Your mouth was completely dry as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“I…” you began, attempting to string some words together as he waited patiently for your response.

You never thought you’d witness the day Loki allowed himself to be this open with you. Yet here it was. It was a beautiful thing to see and felt like a dream come true. This was it. The time to pull your big girl pants on and tell him how you truly feel.

But for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You weren’t ready.

“... I… I’m sorry, but I can’t be your friend, Loki.” You said, slowly shaking your head. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

He blinked, face falling in an instant. Extreme disbelief settled onto his elegant features as you regarded him with a straight face. The straightest you could muster.

The more convincing you were, the better it would be for the both of you.

“You saved me from John, and I will forever be grateful to you. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get over the way you treated me beforehand. The things you said to me.”

You shook your head, backing away from him. “I know you’ve apologized for it, but you were so unnecessarily mean to me, Loki. You called me pathetic, and disgusting. You accused me of trying to seduce your brother. What kind of “friend” says things like that?”

“I…” His face was twisted in anguish. “I did not mean it.”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft. You could hear the hurt as clear as day and you felt like a monster.

“It was a mistake. One I have regretted terribly since then. I would not ever treat you that way again. Not ever.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You muttered, turning your back to him. Fresh tears built up in your eyes, and you took a deep breath before saying your last words to him.

“It’s too late. I’m sorry that it has to be this way, but I don’t think I can do it. I don’t like the person you are and I can’t be your friend.” You wiped a stray tear from your face, sniffling.

Your apartment was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

You stood there feeling, his gaze burning into your back for what felt like forever before you finally heard the slam of your apartment door.

You instantly bursted into tears, hands muffling the sobs that wracked your frame.

You couldn’t believe you did that.

******

A knock sounded on your apartment door a week later. When you didn’t answer, the urgent knocks quickly turned into loud bangs, making you leave your bed and rush to the door in panic. You didn’t need your neighbors complaining about noise yet again.

Before you could look through the tiny peephole or even ask who it was, you heard a familiar accented voice from the other side of the door.

“Friend! Are you in there?”

You opened the door and were met with troubled blue eyes.

“Thor?” You gave him a confused look. “What… what are you doing here?”

He texted and called you several times in the past few days but was met with the same excuse. I’m not feeling too good. I think I caught the flu or something. Need some time to recover.

You let him in and shut the door behind him. He plopped down on your sofa and you slowly sat across from him.

“I understand you instructed me not to bother you but I really wanted to check on you since I know you fell ill. Are you well, friend?”

You gave him a sheepish look. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” He leaned backward on the sofa, gaze narrowing. “Other than your unusual state of disarray, you do seem to not be drowning in sickness.”

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, not knowing what to say to that. You were sure you looked like hell. It was noon and you were still in your pajamas, and your hair had not been touched in days. The most you had the energy to do was shower and eat. Even those activities took a lot of energy from you.

Your normally tidy apartment was a mess. Clothes and random objects were carelessly left all over the place, and a tall pile of unopened mail laid messily on your coffee table. Thor was extremely kind to just call it a state of disarray.

“I must admit that there are other reasons for me arriving unannounced.” He cleared his throat, brows furrowing as he sat forward, folding his hands. “I did not understand at first, but I gathered something has happened between you and my brother. I do not know what unfolded between you two, but I am assuming it was not good.”

You bit your lip nervously, looking down at your lap.

“Still, I am very confused. If I’m not mistaken, things were improving between you two and all seemed to be well. Now you are hiding inside your home with little to no contact under the guise of unwellness, and Loki’s been acting stranger than usual. His mood sours at the mention of your name. I have tried to talk to him but he will not speak to me about the matter either. Please tell me what has happened.”

Thor was clearly very concerned about the situation, and it would do you no good to lie to him. He’s been a great friend to you and so you felt obligated to tell him the truth.

You sighed before meeting his gaze with a look of exhaustion on your features.

“Would you like some tea?”

His brows raised at your question and you chuckled.

“With what I have to say, you may be here for a while, Thunder.”

You returned from the kitchen with two hot mugs a few moments later, sitting down across from Thor and carefully explaining the situation to him.

As you explained how your last conversation went with Loki, you watched as his expression shifted—from understanding to shock and confusion—before finally settling into a somber state. You weren’t exactly sure what he was thinking or if he was sad for you or his brother. Most likely both.

“I lied to him.” You admitted with a shameful shake of your head. “I told him that I didn’t like him.”

Thor shook his head, clearly confused by your actions. “I don’t understand. I thought you two were getting along quite well. Did he do something to upset you?

You shook your head, rubbing a hand across your forehead. “No, that’s part of the problem, Thor.”

The look on his face was almost comical. He stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

You did, but not without letting out a long sigh beforehand. “I’m used to him being a complete ass. I’m not used to this nice, considerate, helpful Loki that’s been coming by my apartment.” You exclaimed, raising a hand in the air. “I’m not used to this Loki that talks to me like I’m a normal human being, or brings me food when I’m feeling down, or the one who watched cheesy movies with me. I couldn’t handle being around him anymore. I had to run him off before I-.” You paused, eyes fluttering shut.

“Before what?”

You took a deep breath and looked at Thor. Your friend, one of your best friends in the whole world. Your friend who was a brother to the person you…

Your voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. “Before I fell in love with him.”

All of the confusion from his face dropped, leaving warm eyes and a gentle smile on his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face in embarrassment. “It’s ridiculous to say, isn't it? I’m being so stupid.”

“No!” Thor exclaimed, reaching a hand out to you. “Never in a millennium would I ever think that of you. What you are feeling is not stupid. I-.”

He cut himself off, shaking his head with a look of disbelief. “I am just puzzled how I did not see this coming much sooner.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Huh?”

“See your true feelings for Loki.” He explained. “I was so focused on ensuring your well being that I did not see what was happening right in front of me. Maybe I could have prevented this from happening.”

You frowned, hands sliding away from your face,

“What do you mean you could have prevented this?”

A sheepish look spread upon the blonde god’s face.

“I am sure this is difficult for you given your history with Loki so I completely understand your hesitance when it comes to his motivations.” He explained. “But I must admit, I thought you were more aware of his feelings for you than it appears you are.”

You said nothing, having no clue where he was going with this.

“You see, friend, Loki was only harsh to you before because he did not know how to tell you that he admired you.”

Oh…. what?!

“The best he could do was antagonize you until you snapped. Unfortunately for him, he has never been great at talking about his feelings.”

He sure could have fooled you a week ago. There he was, in your kitchen pouring out his heart to you and you completely shut him down. You were beginning to question if you made a mistake.

“Loki cares for you immensely.” Thor strongly insisted. “He always has. But I did not know you felt the same way. I would have whipped him into shape and made him behave a long time ago. I can think of no one else that would be as perfect for him as you would be.”

If you weren’t so thrown off by what Thor was revealing to you, you would have blushed at his compliment.

“Why… why didn’t he say anything?” You asked. “He didn’t– all he said was that he wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think he cared for me the same way that I cared for him. That’s why I pushed him away. I don’t think I could have stayed friends with him without always feeling something deeper.” you admitted, tears kissing your eyes.

Thor looked at you seriously, blinking slowly. “You’re right. Loki doesn’t just care for you,” He informed. “It is so much more than that. Truly.”

Your face dropped.

“I should not be the one to inform you of this, but he did not tell you about his true feelings because he was worried of…. Well, the exact reaction you gave him for simply requesting to befriend you.”

Your heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces. You wanted Thor to stop talking because he was making you realize how much you fucked up. Big time.

“N-no… that’s not true.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief. “Loki hated me, he always has.”

Thor raised a brow. “Do you truly believe that he despised you to that extent? He was a simpering mess and was jealous of our friendship because he desired to be as close to you as I was. But he did not think he could do so. He did not know how to get closer to you, so I tried to convince him to simply talk to you more. But as you know very well, my brother is the most stubborn man in the nine realms. I believe that he was truly afraid of your rejection. That is what was stopping him from revealing his true feelings to you.”

You dropped your head to your hands, shaking your head slowly. “And I did exactly what he thought I would do.” You flat out rejected him. Of course, it wasn’t because you actually disliked him, but it was because of your own fears of inadequacy. All this time you thought he was the asshole. Turns out it was really you. The roles had flipped because you let those same feelings of rejection Loki had gotten in the way of you becoming closer. Of you two possibly becoming more.

No one was more surprised than you were when you received an invitation to a birthday party a couple of weeks later after your talk with Thor. And not just any birthday party either.

It was Loki’s.

Thor was the only person who could have sent this to you because there was no way Loki could have invited you to his own party. This was confirmed when you realized it was supposed to be a surprise birthday party.

You could think of a billion reasons why that was not a good idea. One being that this surprise party was supposedly for a god who could get annoyed enough to start another war against humanity, and two being that he certainly hated your guts right now, and for a very valid reason this time.

Nevertheless, with your guilty conscience weighing heavily on you (and a bit of gentle bullying from Thor) you decided to go to the party anyway.

It was at a fancy hotel in downtown Manhattan, and Loki wasn’t supposed to arrive for another thirty minutes or so, but the way your heart was rapidly beating you’d think he was already there. You searched around the room in apprehension, fingers toying with the dark green ribbon of the small box you were holding. Eventually, you sat the present down on the gift table, forcing your hands to stay still as you waited for him to show.

Apparently, Thor gave Loki some misleading excuse for him to come to the hotel so he wouldn’t know that there would be a party, especially for him.

But something told you that Loki was smarter than that.

The next time you glanced at your watch, thirty minutes plus had passed and Loki had yet to arrive like Thor asked him to. Then an hour had passed and people started to get antsy, but once Sam had turned on the music and Tony announced that the bar was open, everyone seemed to relax and enjoy themselves a bit more. They were having the party as if the birthday boy wasn't MIA.

This disappointed you greatly.

“I’m sorry, friend.” Thor sighed, patting your arm gently. “I truly thought he would be here, but he must have found out about my plans and decided not to come. He’s never been one for a surprise.”

“Maybe he’ll show up sooner or later. Who knows.” you shrugged, forcing a sad smile. To say you were disappointed was a great understatement. You thought you’d feel relieved that you wouldn’t have to face him today, but you realized that you were really looking forward to seeing him again.

You sighed, looking around. “I think I'm gonna go. I’m not really in a party mood right now. I only came here because… Well, you know.”

Thor nodded sympathetically. “Of course. I will see you later.”

He gave you a departing hug and you exited the ballroom. You were barely halfway down the hall, almost making it to the lobby before an arm reached out of a dark room, snatching you inside. It happened so quickly that you barely had time to scream.

You yelped when the door slammed shut, then light quickly flooded the room.

Your eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to focus on the tall figure in front of you. There, barely a few feet away stood Loki, dressed to the nines in a killer black tux that fit his body as if it was created just for him.

The small closet he pulled you into was pretty cramped. He regarded you coldly, a displeased expression on his face. Brows furrowed deeply and jaw clenched.

It was clear that he was not happy to see you.

“Wait, you’re here?” You gaped at him dumbly. “Have you been here this whole time? Everyone’s been waiting for you in the ballroom.”

“Yes, I am fully aware. I’ve known about this ridiculous party the entire time.” He snapped, a great amount of annoyance in his tone. “I do not care about what anyone is doing. What I want to know is why you are here?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, doing your best to meet his heated gaze head on. “W-well, i-”

“Spit it out, mortal,” he growled impatiently.

Oh, so we’re back to mortal now, you thought to yourself grumpily.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “I wanted to say that… that I’m sorry.”

He continued to stare, entirely unfazed by your apology. You fidgeted nervously under the weight of his gaze.

“For what, exactly?”

“For everything.” You frowned, shaking your head. “For saying those horrible things to you. For saying that I didn't like you.” You sighed heavily. “None of what I said that day was true and I know I hurt your feelings-”

“Feelings? I don’t have any feelings regarding you.” He scoffed, taking a small step back away from you. “None other than utter disdain.”

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. You guessed you deserved that.

You continued on anyway. As hard as he tried to hide it, you could hear the pain seeping through the anger in his voice.

“Regardless of whether I hurt your feelings or not, I wanted you to know that what I said wasn’t the truth. I lied to you when I said I didn’t want to be your friend. The truth is I really, really do.”

His severe expression remained, only growing harsher as his frown deepened.

“Did my idiot brother put you up to this?”

“Of course not,” you answered quickly. “I’m apologizing because I want to. You didn’t deserve that. Not at all.”

“Then why?” He demanded, stepping closer to you. “Why would you say those things if you did not truly mean it?”

A heavy silence hung between you, broken only by the faint sound of the bass from the ridiculously loud music leaking through the closet door from down the hall.

“I… I don’t know,” you muttered lamely.

You instantly regretted your words as you watched Loki’s face fall. You could take his anger, you were used to it by now, but any trace of irritation had completely disappeared from his expression. All that was left was disappointment. Confusion. Sadness.

"You don’t know," he said, his tone laced with disbelief.

His mouth parted as if he were about to speak, but the words faltered and died on his lips.

A suffocating pressure filled your chest as he avoided your gaze, deftly stepping around you to open the closet door.

“Loki wait–” Your call to him was silenced by the sharp slam of the door.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the weight of unshed tears pressing against your lids.

You were a coward. He had given you the chance to explain yourself, the chance to tell him the truth, to tell him how you really felt, and instead you decided to hurt him even more by lying to him yet again.

Trying to tell someone like Loki that you cared about him was proving to be extremely difficult for you. Yet no matter how hard it was, you could not risk losing him.

Grabbing the knob, you swung the door open, running down the halls of the hotel in your heels like a mad woman.

“Loki!”

You saw him heading towards the exit. You ignored the curious glances of the hotel staff watching you from behind the desk as you sped past them.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge you, long legs striding towards the doors with determination

You stopped in your tracks, letting out a breath before calling out to him.

“I said those things to you because I was scared.”

He didn’t stop, and you continued.

“I-I was scared because I liked you too, but more than a friend, and I didn’t know what to do about that.”

He immediately halted in his tracks, the sliding doors opening for him. Relief filled you when he didn't walk through them.

Your voice lowered now that you had his attention. “I didn’t know how to feel about that, because I’m not supposed to like you, Loki.”

This was it. There he was, standing by the entrance of the hotel waiting for you to say more, only a second away from bolting out the door. This moment was all you had, and you couldn’t mess it up. Not again.

You swallowed hard, nails biting into your palms from the pressure of your closed fists.

This was it. Only the truth would save you now.

“I wanted to keep myself from falling in love with you.” You whispered. “But I think it’s too late.”

"He slowly turned to face you, looking thoroughly paralyzed. As if he'd just seen a ghost. His eyes grew wide, and he blinked, his breath caught in his throat. “What did you say?”

You took a step forward, a watery smile growing on your face.

"I tried to push you away," you said quietly. "Because I began to feel more than just friendship, and I was afraid it was all one-sided. I didn’t think you could feel the same way about me as I do about you... as I still do."

You saw his features morph from surprise to disbelief, then eased into relief, all in the blink of an eye. Before you realized it, he was stalking toward you with even more purpose than before, stopping barely a foot away from you.

“You simple-minded woman,” he chastised softly. “How could I not feel the same way? How could I not love you as well?”

A sharp intake of breath escaped you as you stared at him, stunned by his words.

“Did you not believe I loved you when I couldn't stop being fixated on you? When I became jealous of my own brother just because he met you first? When I almost successfully murdered a man with my bare hands for daring to cause you harm? It's something I'd gladly do again and finish what I started.” He growled.

“I am not bypassing the fact that I made it extremely difficult to see, but it was always there.” he paused before lifting a hand towards your face, placing it on your cheek gently. “I was entranced with you from the very moment I met you, and was devastated when I thought I could never have you.”

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest heaving as you gazed at the man in front of you. It was as if the world had shifted, and you were seeing him in a new light—seeing him for who he truly was and what he meant to you. Your heart swelled, and instinctively, you took a step closer, lifting yourself onto your toes to pull him down towards you, pressing your lips to his with an intensity you couldn’t control.

For a brief moment, you saw surprise flash across his face, but it was gone just as quickly. He steadied himself, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you back with the same fierce passion.

It didn’t take long for his tongue to find the inside of your mouth. the taste of mint on his lips sending a rush of euphoria through you. The feeling was absolutely heavenly. Gripping his arms for dear life, you were desperate for support as each passing second made you feel more lightheaded, overwhelmed by the sensation of Loki Laufeyson kissing you fiercely right there in the hotel lobby.

You let out an involuntary moan when his hands moved from your face, traveling down your neck and back.

A throat cleared, catching you off guard. “Um, Excuse me.”

With great reluctance, you both pulled away from each other, turning to look at the awkward looking hotel manager that was standing a few feet away from you.

You hadn’t even heard him come near. Loki cleared his throat and you blushed, straightening the top of your dress as two women, no–now four women giggled behind the lobby desk.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but considering that things look a bit… intense between you two, may I suggest you take this interaction to one of our rooms? We have a few more suites available. I would suggest our honeymoon suite.”

You met Loki's gaze with a sheepish smile, but he didn’t look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with himself. The last thing you wanted to put on was a show for everyone to see, but you couldn't help but get swept up into him once he started kissing you back.

“Maybe we should go to your party,” you suggested, turning to him with a guilty expression. “That way everyone will know you’re here.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” He acknowledged. “I should at least tell Thor that I appreciate his basic efforts. He should know to do a better job at keeping secrets from me in the future.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Let’s go do that. Right now.”

You caught Loki's hand, gently pulling him away from the nosy hotel staff and in the direction of the ballroom. The closer you got to the party, the more you were regretting your decision in not getting that hotel room.

You and Loki were standing just outside of the grand double doors, silently staring ahead.

“We should go in, shouldn’t we?” you asked.

“We should,” he agreed half-heartedly.

You nodded, running a hand over your mussed hair before taking a step towards the door, grabbing the door handle. You didn’t get the chance to open it before you were pulled away. You were suddenly pressed into Loki’s hard body with his lips pressed to yours.

Barely five minutes later, he was dragging you into the recommended suite, slamming the door shut, and placing you up against it. Your mouths connected again in an instant, hands running through his dark locks and legs wrapped around his waist.

“We should… get back to… the party.” You said in between kisses.

Loki pulled away for a split second, quirking a brow. “Why in the hel would we do that?”

You felt a rush of warmth in your cheeks. “For one, all your friends are waiting for you, and here I am keeping you from them.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning down to place a kiss under your chin. “Those imbeciles can wait. Right now, I prefer that I have you all to myself.”

“You can have me.” You whispered lightly. “I wouldn’t mind.” You more than wouldn’t mind. You’d be absolutely delighted.

He pulled back to meet your lust filled gaze.

“As would I, my love, but not yet. Not fully at least.”

You paused, blinking at him in slight confusion.

“You are a profoundly beautiful and intelligent woman, and I would prefer to court you properly before we go any further.” He explained, smiling softly as he ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “You deserve that and so much more.”

And here you were ready to rip his pants off. You were a complete horny mess, and by the prominent feeling of him rubbing against your stomach, you knew he was too.

However, he was right, and it turned you on even more that he respected you enough to hold back on his primal instincts. For now.

“Well,” You grinned, eyes searching his. “What would you like to do birthday boy?”

"I want to be with you. Just you." He confessed. "I want to hold you close, and look into your eyes—it's something I've dreamed of doing for a very long time."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded. “I’d like that too.”

Before long, you found yourselves exactly where you needed to be. Both of you stretched out on the luxurious soft king-sized bed, nestled in his arms with your head resting against his chest. At that moment, you couldn’t remember ever feeling so secure, so complete.

“I have to confess,” you heard him murmur softly. “I did not expect this. I had already prepared myself to walk into that party, miserable as ever, and force myself to listen to people I could care less about drone on about how lucky I was to be related to Thor.”

You nestled closer to him, breathing in his scent.

“But then I saw you, standing there looking as enchanting as ever, and my whole world turned on its head. Regardless of what I said earlier, I am happy that you are here.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“This is truly the best surprise. Better than I could ever have imagined.”

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐?

DarkSerenity's Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 ✨

#loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki imagine #darkserenity24

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