#I designed her when I was 9 and I don’t have the heart to change her now
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Luna Skellington, an excellent scarer on account of her deceptively human appearance. Created by Finkelstein.
#forgive her appearance#I designed her when I was 9 and I don’t have the heart to change her now#im excited to reenter the tnbc fan scene after so long!#tnbc#the nightmare before Christmas#nightmare before Christmas#tnbc oc
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the contract - alessia russo
alessia russo x reader
description: in which your girlfriend makes you sign a contract before heading on national camp
warnings: suggestive hehe
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
camp for the euros was on, meaning you and your national team mates finally got to all be together once again. alessia was excited to be around her best friend tooney but also her lovely girlfriend, you. (acting as though you don’t see each other everyday at your shared flat and playing together at arsenal)
alessia was truly head over heels for you, worshipping the ground you walked on. if it was cold - take her jacket, you’re hungry - she’s rushing off to find you something to eat. she really did love you, you completely in love with her also. before you and alessia arrived at camp, she made you promise her three simple things:
1- do your best always and put your whole heart into competition and training
2 - focus on the health of yourself before your partner (knowing she would break this rule for you - you the same, honestly hypocritical)
3 - finally, always sit next to her on the bus
(this rule written in red ink, a little arrow attached to the sentence saying “IMPORTANT”)
she presented this to you in your living room, written on a small piece of paper, creating a contract.
“lessi, baby, you’re joking” you say, taking the paper in your hand, eyes scanning over it. you grin seeing your girlfriend had written ‘(y/n) russo’ above your signature line
“do I look like I’m joking?” arms crossed, staring down at you sitting on the couch, standing between your spread legs.
you squeezed your legs on hers, “(y/n) russo huh? funny, I don’t remember you on your pretty knee proposing” you smiled up at her
she giggled and grabbed your face between both of her hands “you’ve seen me on my pretty knees plenty of times, cheeky girl” she winked
your face blushed a dark crimson, avoiding her gaze completely.
“right” you breathed “give me a pen then, russo! chop chop!”
she smiled brightly at you, rushing to hand you a nearby pen, watching as you sign your pretty signature in your designated spot.
“pleasure doing business with you” you extend your hand out to her, when she grabs yours and pulls you up from the couch, hand in yours, her other moving to the back of your neck giving you a sweet kiss.
you giggle in between the kiss, she pulls away from you looking directly into your eyes, “(y/n/n), be professional, come on” pulling you back into the kiss. “now that’s how you sign a contract!” you put your hand up waiting for a high five, laughing as she slaps your hand on yours nodding.
-on the bus-
after a gruelling, rainy training session, you were desperate to have a shower. when you walked into the change room, alessia was sat in your cubby waiting, dressed, showered and ready to go.
“you didn’t have to wait for me, baby, the bus is warm, you go ahead”
she looked up at your uncommon taller figure
“are you sure?”
“yeah go on, keira and lucy need to shower as well” running your hands through her damp, short hair.
she stands up and gives you a short kiss, lightly tapping your backside and whispering in your ear,
“I’ll save you a seat, beautiful, section 3”
“yeah yeah, russo, get out of here!”
“it’s baby to you, little one” she squinted her eyes at you, patting the top of your head.
you smile and wave at her as she walks out of the change room, you bolt to the showers.
you walk onto the bus, one of the last ones. you were dressed warmly in your number 9 hoodie.
“changing numbers, (y/ln)?” maya says as you walk past her, laughing as you stick your tongue out at her.
you walk towards the back of the bus, where you spot alessia looking very grumpy sitting next to tooney. not engaging in conversation.
as you approach them, tooney looks up at you
“(y/n/n), you are forbidden from sitting next to russo over here for today, your codependency is seriously concerning.” shaking her head as she moved her gaze between you and alessia
“tooney, please get up!” alessia pleads
“no! (y/n), go and sit next to esme and learn how to make a bracelet for your little girlfriend.”
you hesitated but nodded, making eye contact with alessia’s heartbroken eyes
“baby, it’s okay, just this once”
“we had a contract!” alessia exclaimed as you were pushed away by tooney, sat right next to your close friend esme
esme had immediately taught you how to make her famous bracelets. you pick out alessia’s favourite colours, discovering you were quite good at this. no one is better than esme though.
you were extremely focused on your bracelet, wanting your girlfriend to have the most perfect one ever. your extreme focus causing you to miss your girlfriend’s eyes peering over her seat to look at you.
you hear esme giggling and you look up at her, she nudges her head towards alessia.
you make eye contact with your girlfriend, her eyes forming crescent moons as you finally look at her. she lifts her hand up and lightly waves. you smile at her and blow her a kiss. eye contact disappearing as tooney moved her head to the front again.
you had finally finished your project, excited to give your girlfriend your creation. she had gotten off the bus first, you saw her waiting for you outside the window.
you step out of the bus and she surges towards you. wrapping her arms around your waist and lifting you above the ground. your arms go around her neck in attempts to stabilise yourself. she places her head in the crook of your neck, breathing lightly.
“you broke the contract, never leave me again you awful woman!” she murmured into your neck
“technically, you broke it too, baby” she shook her head in your neck and placed you back on the ground. refusing to part from you
“tooney’s right, lessi baby, you really need me huh?” you coo, rubbing small circles on her back with your hand.
she rips her face out of your neck, “don’t act like you don’t” she smiles down at you, leaning in to place a small kiss on your nose
“a big softie you are, star girl” you kiss her cheek, smiling as it becomes warm under your contact
“oh! I almost forgot, here you go!” you say pulling the carefully crafted bracelet from your (alessia’s) hoodie pocket
she grabbed it from you, pupils as big as the moon smiling brightly
“looks like you’re the softie now” placing a chaste kiss to your lips and putting the bracelet on her wrist
“go home love birds, I’m sick of you!” tooney says with fake anger, knowing she loved seeing her best friend so in love
alessia grabs your hand and directs you to her car, holding the door open for you, rushing to the driver's side as soon as she closed the door and you were safely seated.
“you know, I think there should be repercussions for breaking our contract,” alessia said, rubbing small circles on your thigh.
“what’s my punishment then, baby? need me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”
“woah! I was just going to make you wash the dishes after dinner but that works too” she winks at you, your face turning bright red
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
liked by mayaletissier and 44,232 others
ellatoone: name two more codependent girlfriends than @/alessiarusso99 and @/yourname. I’ll wait.
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alessiarusso99: stay mad you and your boyfie aren’t together 24/7
↳ellatoone: stay soft blondie 🤞
↳yourname: @/ellatoone ❗️❗️
↳alessiarusso99: @/yourname, time out!
#woso x reader#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo#woso community#woso imagine#woso one shot#woso fanfics#woso
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Who is (actually) the hottest Monsters & Girls character?
Link to poll: https://www.tumblr.com/idolomantises/745892368364060672
CW: This will be a long post;
(Note: this is completely for comical purposes, please don’t take this too seriously. I have all the respect in the world for @idolomantises and their work)
1. Sera
👍: Perhaps the titular character of the series, Sera is beautiful angel (literally) and is arguably the kindest character in the whole series
👎: I challenge you to draw this woman without screaming at yourself/into a pillow
2. Lili
👍: Endearing, welcoming, understanding, and can be very fun. Pretty much wears her heart on her sleeve with how open she is.
👎: Literally THE sexy character. It’s obvious why you picked her as the hottest, now go get better tastes.
3. Cheri
👍: She’s sooo soft omg. She’s so sweet you’ll have a sweet tooth just for her even if you don’t like sweets
👎: I will not talk ill of this lady because I literally cannot, but for all intents and purposes this is a contest to see who is the hottest, not the most wholesome. Sorry 🫡
4. Junior
👍: Blunt and cute, plus a goat. Cute goats are always an A+ character design. Where would we be without them tbh?
👎: Bluntness can lead to rudeness and or discomfort. Nothing super bad about Junior just prob not the best choice for this. Just sayin
5. Scylla
👍: Lord have mercy I understand where people are coming from. Hooo doggy what a woman.
👎: I can’t remember the exact post but I recall it being said that she bites your head off or something if you get too close or look at her weird. That’s no good
6. Ciel
👍: Easily one of my favorite designs. He’s definitely the prettiest boy of the entire cast
👎: One of those cases where he’s too good for you, ya know what I mean? He’s way out of your league I don’t make the rules
7. Catty
👍: Nya~ Very fashionable going off of recent appearances. Design hasn’t changed too much in comparison to others, meaning that
👎: I like dogs more, plus she’s not open with her thoughts and feelings, leading to awkward moments when she lets it all out
8: Luvart
👍: Big, beefy, strong, fire. Need I say more? She treats sex workers with respect for their profession and would be a completely package when you don’t consider…..
👎: …She has no qualms murking you just because and her greatest offense is being the arch rival of the best character a special someone
9: Adam
👍: Dude can become a dog for you to pet and is quite honest in most cases. Plus those scars look neat wouldn’t you say?
👎: Unless you are a - former angel now fallen, a TV show host, have a broken halo, while simultaneously sharing a name with a pizza company and a game tile, then you ain’t getting nothing.
10: Domino
👍: I can see why so many are stricken by this fella, he’s quite cute, quirky, and has an adorable way of being blunt
👎: (Domi- No hoes) He’s just not good enough. He seems so ideal at face value but he berates angels to the moon and back and for what? His fault for his own downfall.
With all that said, clearly the hottest character of Monsters and Girls - for appearance AND character - is obviously….
POWERS
LITERALLY PERFECTION IN ITS PUREST FORM! CHISELED LIKE A GREEK GOD(DESS), ROSE TO BE AN ANGEL - REJECTING HER DEMONIC ORIGINS, FOLKS IT JUST DOESNT. GET. BETTER!
A Vote For Powers Is A Vote For Truth, Love, And Happiness!! Vote For Powers in the Home Stretch Now!
#I was serious when I said I’d post propa- I mean#Posting undisputed facts over opinions#idolomantises#monsters and girls#powers#Vote. Powers. Now!
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Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)
☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader
☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price.
☾ Word Count: 21,606
☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, intense fight scenes, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via drowning, a physical fight between a man and a woman in the middle of a storm, sexual dream sequences featuring making out, biting (light), grinding, reader having flashbacks of trauma, a lot of thoughts about reader's terrible parents, a sort of power imbalance in the sense that reader is in Yoongi's realm as a part of a deal.
☾ Published: July 9, 2023
☾ A/N: It's finally here! This was originally supposed to be two giant chapters, but I cannot manage my time in a way to write to ~40k chapters and also fit all of this in a way that is not overwhelming or feels like it makes sense, so I have chosen to do this in 4 chapters of roughly 20k words! Thank you to everyone who has hyped me up for this idea, helped me work out some ideas, or listened to me struggle to write this because I was so unsure about the chemistry between Yoongi and reader at first. I am really excited to be writing this and have taken this in quite a different direction than the original idea when I had when I watched the Lilith MV, but that's okay. I heavily draw on inspiration from the Lilith MV, the song Possession of a Weapon by Ashnikko, The Sandman by Neil Gaiman, the movie The Witch, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab and the original myth of Hades and Persephone (where I got the deal/living in Yoongi's world idea from).
Special thank you to my amazing beta team who really helped make this fic what it is and make sure it was legible: @theharrowing and @here2bbtstrash
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
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Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve
Change like a season
-
It begins with rain.
White sheets of it beating against the window in a gentle murmur, a soft leak in the corner of the kitchen dripping into the metal bucket your mother has set out. The storm brings a cool wind with it, blowing in on the back porch where your father rocks back and forth in his chair, watching the deluge.
Shivering, you throw another log into the fireplace, pulling your shawl closer as orange embers spark and crackle, drifting up the shute. The smell of burning cedar grows and you smile, sitting down in front of the licking flames and holding out your hands to warm your palms.
Behind you at the kitchen table, your mother pulls a thread and needle through a dress she’s been working on, stitching purple flowers into the sleeves. You wonder if she’s making it for the neighbor's daughter, a girl a few years younger than you to be wed soon.
Mother makes some of the best stitching in the village, her practiced hands etching artful flowers and vines and designs on the sleeves and skirts of most of the village women. She’s tried for years to pass the craft on to you, but your fingers aren’t nearly as nimble and your eye for art is sorely lacking.
What you lack in art you make up for in stories, though. Head in the clouds, swimming in worlds, places and things you’ve never seen. Lives and people who only exist in your mind, entire fantasies with more colors and sights and smells than your tiny little world contains.
You’d write them down if you could. Writing and reading is not a woman’s craft, though, and you know better than to press your father on the subject any further than you have in the past. A terse word from him and your raw knuckles after being forced to do the wash alone for weeks kept you from bringing up the topic of learning to read and write ever again, especially when you remember the sting of his slap when you pushed too far.
Still, you have your mind. You have the ability to dream up worlds and twist fantasies together, to daze off and pretend that you’re somewhere else. That you’re living another life.
You have the days where you finish working at the inn early, sitting in the corner of the room with hard bread and cheese, listening to the town’s storyteller whisper tales and myths to the children of the village.
For now, it will suffice.
When the rain finally slows in the late afternoon, it’s cloudy and cool outside, the perfect temperature for a walk. Pulling on a pair of linen pants and a tunic, you creep toward the door, hoping to avoid the attention of your parents as they begin to prepare dinner in the kitchen, their movements methodical and silent.
Carefully, you slide boots on your feet. As you reach for the front door, hidden from the view of the kitchen, you hear your mother call your name. You pause, closing your eyes and grimacing as you call back, “Yes?”
“Where are you going? It’s wet and cold outside.”
“Just for a short walk.”
“You’re going to catch a cold,” she protests. Her steps move near you. You pull the door open and step into the wet air, eager to get away from her. “Come help us with dinner.”
“I’ll see you shortly, the weather is lovely!”
Before your mother can come around the corner and pin you with her disappointed stare, you’re down the slippery steps and sloshing into the yard, mud and grass sucking at your steps as you hurry. You hear your father yell something like dammit, girl but you can’t be sure, the sounds of birds and the bugs swallowing his curses as you rush through the front yard.
The world is covered in a layer of fine mist, tree boughs heavy with rain as they drip drip drip onto the forest floor around you. Thick, gray clouds hide the sun still. Thunder rolls in the distance, promising more rain through the night. You don’t mind, diving into the darkness of the trees on a well-worn path through the woods.
Water floods the path up to the ankle, soaking your boots. You grin and kick your feet as you walk, watching the ripples flow outward. Water mosquitoes dance on top of the surface of the flood and you note little tadpoles swim by, confirming that the river by your house is flooding up over the bank and washing into the mainland.
This is common most summers. Your house is out of the way from the town, almost a thirty minute walk. This far north, you’re only ten minutes from the edge of the slow-moving river that floods yearly turning the land around your property into a marsh.
It’s your favorite time of year. A heron startles as you wander through the trees, shaking its white wings and shedding water as it hurries away on long, thin legs. You spot a snake swimming through the reeds, rushing away from you once it senses you sloshing through.
Closer to the river, you pause. It’s hard to tell where the embankment dips down with it flooded. You can see where the flood moves faster, powered by the depth of the river and the overflow from the lake up north. Leaning against a tree, you look around this world of water.
It seems alien. Trees block out the sky and are reflected in the surface of the flood, giving the illusion that you stand between two worlds, two dimensions.
What would that be like, you wonder.
According to the high priest in town, there are other dimensions. There are the heavens for the gods of light and love, who bless the world with fire and harvest and rain and oceans, who protect the people and who will absolve you of all sin and greed if you pray to them hard enough and accept them as your patrons. Who will love you only if you are devout.
You don’t believe in them for a second. If those gods of love and light do exist, they are not entirely good. They have never answered your prayers, have never saved you from pain or from sorrow. You have begged the gods to give you a new life, to let you leave. To let you go somewhere far away.
They have been silent. They were silent when your father beat you after the first time you rejected a marital match. They didn’t help you when he burned all your materials when you tried to teach yourself the shapes and sounds of letters.
So you stopped praying to them.
There are other gods, of course. Other places for the wicked, dark gods full of trickery and greed, who seek only to fill the world with sin and deceit, who desire to make humans suffer and lose themselves in hedonism and debauchery. Those gods have a place too, the dark underworld for those who should be punished and reminded what it is to be full of sin.
You’ve never prayed to them either, too afraid of what it would cost you. But you wonder if they answer or if they too watch the world from a mountain so high that they cannot bother to help those who need it.
Still, you wonder what it would be like to walk between two worlds. To see one reflected in the other, to fall face first into the cool water only to surface in another place, almost an exact replica of where you’re from.
It would be nice. Perhaps there you wouldn’t be a disappointing daughter who has turned away every suitor in the village, much to your father’s rage. There, you would be allowed to pursue reading and writing. You’d have the agency to sail the world and see the ocean for the first time, to feel the freezing spray of the seas on your face while you hunt the coast for something lost.
Always something lost.
In all of your fantasies, you’re looking for something. Sometimes, you’re not sure what it is you’re looking for, you just know that something needs to be found. Other times, it’s a specific object or a person, something that, deep down, you know represents the thing you desire to find most: freedom.
A small school of fish swim by your feet. They can’t be any larger than your pinky finger, scurrying along before they’re swept up in the suction of the flowing river. Sighing, you push off the tree and begin to head back home, swatting at your bare arms where gnats bite at your sweaty skin.
Dark presses in as you walk back. You had stayed in the woods later than you intended, mind drifting far off among the sounds of the world around you. A cool tingle slides down your neck as you walk, water breaking around you.
You pause. It’s the same feeling that you get whenever you spend far too long in the woods and the sun goes down. It feels like there’s someone there with you, just at your back. Slowly, you turn to look over your shoulder but there’s no one there, just the warm press of something you can’t see.
When it happened the first time, you’d been so afraid you ran home. Now, though, you smile and look down at the ground as you keep walking. The presence, whether it’s real or something you have made up in your head, is always comforting. Always there, a gentle press of feeling.
There are candles burning in the windows and an owl hoots in greeting when your house appears. Inside, you kick off your shoes and rush to meet your parents at the silent dinner table. Both of them look up at you, your mother’s mouth pinched, eyes weary. Your father’s gaze is thunderous as he picks up cutlery and begins to cut into his potato in saw-like motions, his knuckles going white.
You sit down without a word, bow your head to pretend to pray. Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention. “It’s after dark. You missed your prayers.”
It doesn’t matter. You weren’t going to pray anyway. But the way your parents look at you makes you drop your eyes down to the table, their expressions alarmed. Were you really about to pray after the sunset, when the benevolent gods were no longer listening? The only gods available to you now are dangerous. Violent. Tricky.
Dinner is dry and too heavily salted. Still, you don’t complain. Somewhere in the world, you’re sure that there are wonderful feasts being held. Plates and platters of honey-glazed meats, roasted pheasant and charred filets. Whipped sweets and colorful confectionaries, dripping fruits and sugary drinks.
None of those places exist anywhere that you’ve ever seen, but you like to imagine them as you chew your way through an oppressively silent meal. He says nothing, but you can tell your father is angry once again. Just as well, he at least keeps it to himself through the meal and says nothing when you’re done.
“I’ll do the dishes,” you offer quickly when your parents finish. It’s an olive branch and they know it. They accept anyway, letting you gather plates as the soft hush of rain begins again.
Rain washes out the night. You can’t see anything beyond the water that runs off the roof over the back porch as you dip your rag into warm water, scrubbing at the plates before setting them to dry in the stack next to you.
Frogs croak, their loud voices blending together into the roar of the rain. Every now and again, lightning flashes above and thunder shakes the sky. You feel it vibrate through your ribs and you smile, inhaling the charged air.
“... doesn’t have a choice!” You turn toward the open doorway. You can’t see your parents but the window is open to their room, voices coming in and out of the rain. “... force her! I’ve had… and he’s already agreed.”
You frown, stopping your scrubbing to lean further, straining your ears. “This won’t go well,” your mother says.
“I don’t give a damn! It’s already done, woman. Enough.”
The rest of the conversation is drowned out by thunder. You frown and turn back to your task, trying to piece together what they’re talking about. You think back to your mother stitching the dress before dinner and think perhaps they’re gossiping about the neighbor again. She wasn’t happy that she was being married off and everyone knew it.
Still, she’s doing it. She’s stronger than you. It’s hard to imagine going through with something you don’t want, to live a life shackled to another person who doesn’t love you. Whose only purpose is to coexist with you and reproduce. To run a household and get through each and every day, the same as last.
It’s hard to say if your parents are in love. They are tender, at times, but you can’t ever point out a moment that your mother or father seem truly happy. Content isn’t the same as happiness. Not really. While they work together well and seem to have struck up a balance after the years, there’s nothing in the way they move through life that seems joyful.
You had asked your mom if she was happy once. She gave you a funny look and said, I have a roof above my head and food on the table. How could I not be?
Her response puzzles you still. To live is not to be happy. Being alive is just that - being alive. A bare minimum. But truly being happy is something else. At least, that’s how you understand it. How the heroes and characters in stories and tales live their lives, fighting for happiness.
Later that night, you forget all about their whispers behind the sheets of rain. You’re tired and the storm is soothing, making you dream of a far away land where there are two armies entrenched in war, battling for their kingdoms and lighting the sky with storm magic.
Another dream. Another fantasy.
-
In your dream, a soft mouth meets yours. The kiss is slow, tongue dragging against yours, tasting of something sweet, mouth warm. It smells like clove and cinnamon, and though you don’t open your eyes to see the mouth that slides against yours, you know you are safe.
-
It ends in darkness.
Dusk has settled around your home like a funeral shroud. Your father has been gone all day, your mother flippant when you ask about his whereabouts. Your mother is a painted picture of anxiety: mouth pinched, darting eyes that fail to meet yours, and hunched shoulders. It makes your palms sweat, the way she avoids you in the house.
Rain comes down in patterns again, bands of storms floating by and turning the world gray. You don’t have to go to the inn with the road flooded, so you spend the day at the window instead, watching each storm flash by, listening to the frogs and watching the birds pick through bug-filled waters between each deluge.
When the sun begins to set, you find your mother standing near the window, looking through wet glass as she chews the corner of her lip. She wipes her hands on her dress, not picking up that you’re standing in the doorway watching her.
The gown she has been stitching for the past few days lays on the table. It’s a beautiful thing, bursting with intricate flowers on the sleeves and the skirts. You don’t enjoy dresses - much less the kind for marriage - but you admire the careful needlework.
“It’s a good dress,” you tell her. She startles from where she stands at the window, whirling around to face you. “One of your best.”
“Yes. I-” something crosses her face that’s unreadable. “Would you try it on for me? I want to make sure I got the sizing right.”
You shrug and pick it up. It’s not the first time she’s used you for sizing and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You just hope that she doesn’t make you stand on a stool for hours to place pins in the skirt, mapping where she needs to take in the seams and make the fabric fold.
The material is a little scratchy when you put it on. It’s snug across the chest and a little bit long at the wrist, but the material ripples over you like water. Outside of your room, the sound of your father’s voice echoes. He sounds more jovial than usual, laughing loudly - another voice is with him.
Frowning, you work the buttons on the side of the dress to secure it shut, pulling the fabric into place. It isn’t often that your father has guests over, but you can assume it’s one of his friends he has over for dinner. You make a sour face at the thought that perhaps it’s Mr. Laudermill and his son Nathaniel again, a family your father has tried to pawn you off on before.
The list of people your father has tried to get you to marry is astounding. It’s become a joke in the town, a game of who will he ask next? At first, there were plenty of families who offered their sons to make the union. Now, after how vehemently you have protested for your right to pick your husband yourself, it’s you who is rejected when your father makes dowry offers.
It seems - much to your advantage - that the men of the town and even the neighboring villages grew tired of the girl who liked to say no. It gives you small satisfaction to know that sheer inconvenience has earned you freedom alongside your mother’s unwillingness to force you.
Still, the Laudermills are a little persistent. Not your father’s favorite option he has ever brought up, but it was one that didn’t say no.
You enter the main house with minor trepidation, uneager to spend the evening sighing at Nathaniel’s terrible jokes and attempts to win you over. You wonder if it’s sheer pride that brings him back this time, upset that he cannot beat the town's little conundrum. The unconquerable conquest. You get the feeling that’s why he and his father visit for dinner sometimes, Nathaniel’s pride unwilling to back down from the challenge.
You’d respect him more if he had more admiration for the word no.
Nathaniel and his father are in the main room of your home, speaking in laughing tones to your father. Your mother stands near the open back door, hands wringing together. There is another person in your house that you don’t expect, though. The village’s high priest nods his head along with something that your father is saying, wrinkled hands clasped in front of his robes.
Time seems to slow down. You take in the tight expression on your mother’s face, her eyes drifting over to the priest who is dressed in ceremonial purple robes, an air of professional courtesy about him. He’s nodding to Nathaniel who is speaking now, and it’s when you really look at him, dressed in nice linen pants, a long sleeved shirt and an ornate vest, that you put the pieces together.
Too slowly do you react as your father turns to you. His smile is forced and his gaze is burning with warning when he gestures. “There’s our bride!”
The word sinks in like a blade. Right between the ribs and up, its point poking dangerous at your heart as your blood begins to roar in your ears. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at them from the threshold of your room. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck, your hands shaking.
“You look beautiful,” Nathaniel says, grinning. It’s a genuine smile, a proud one. Something that says finally. “I’m so glad you’re ready, after all this time.”
“I… what?”
In a moment of razor-sharp clarity, you remember the conversation your parents were having last night, soft words whispered under the cover of the storm. You remember something about forcing her and someone having already agreed.
No. No. Nonononononono.
You don’t realize you’re speaking out loud as you back up into your room, the horror settling in as the rain begins to tap on the roof. Your mother looks crestfallen but remains silent as your father’s smile tightens and his face reddens.
When he says your name, it’s full of warning. The back of your legs hit your bed and your weak knees buckle. You sit down with a huff and shake your head. “You can’t do this,” you whisper. You can’t find your voice, can’t work your throat louder. “You cannot make me marry.”
“Of course I can,” your father hisses. His smile drops and in its place is something dangerous. Horrific. The villain of all your dreams and epic fantasies. “I have given you more than enough time to choose. You have not. As the man of this house-”
“No!” you bark back, cutting him off and shooting to your feet. “I am a person-”
“You are a woman!” he roars, making the high priest flinch. “Your purpose is to grow up, get married, mind the household and provide an heir! You are the only fiendish woman in this entire forsaken village who seems to misunderstand this!”
“It is not my purpose!”
“It is, and you will fulfill it!” he hisses. “You will marry this man before the gods, with my blessing and the witness of the priest.”
Behind you, thunder rolls. The rain comes down harder. Frogs croak loudly, bracketed by the sound of the trees bending with the weight of the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the people before you. Your mother with tears in her eyes, your father with fury in his face, the priest with disappointment and Nathaniel. Nathaniel with glee. With a grin. With a smirk.
“I won’t do it,” you whisper.
Before they can argue, you turn on your heel and leap onto your bed. Your father and Nathaniel rush at the doorway, their steps pounding behind you as you crawl through the window, your ribs slamming on the sill as you lean face forward. Rain soaks you immediately, your hands gripping the sill as you haul your middle half over the edge, intending to just flip down into the mud.
Hands yank at your legs and you scream, a feral sound ripping through your lungs as you kick backward violently. You’re yanked back toward your room viciously, rib cage aching where you slide on the concrete frame. With another savage kick, you make contact and hear a loud shout before the hands drop from your waist.
Pushing harshly, you throw yourself the rest of the way through the window, falling the few feet down to land with a splash. Your father is screaming inside the house but you’re already slipping to your feet, whatever he says drowned out in the rain.
You don’t even think. You run, hands picking up the wet-leaden skirts on your dress as you tear off toward the woods. Water rushes around your ankles as you go and you hear commotion at the window as someone clambers through. You don’t dare turn around as you rush to the line of trees, unafraid of the dark but terrified of the slamming footsteps behind you.
It’s impossible to be fast in the flooded woods. You wince as your feet get cut up on rocks and sharp sticks that you can’t see. You trip over roots and kick solid things as you slog forward, biting back a cry as you try to flee.
“Get back here, you wretched bitch!” Nathaniel screams behind you.
It never occurred to you that he could say something so violent. It spurs you forward, mud and water sucking your feet down and making your flight sticky and slow. Rain pelts down between the leaves, the storm lighting up the treetops with purple flashes every now and again. Thunder shakes their branches and rumbles through your feet, the water rushing higher and higher.
Nathaniel slams into you at the waist. You scream as he takes you down, his weight on top of you. Your scream is cut off as your mouth fills with water. You swallow in a panic, body thrumming with alarm as you choke, nose full of water, eyes burning. You can hear the dull roar of water, the swish of your tangled limbs on the floor.
Clawing at him, you feel your nails rip down soft flesh and hear a muted yell. He lifts his weight off of you and you sit forward, breaking the surface and gasping for air, retching. Your lungs and nose burn as you gasp for air, fighting to get a breath in.
Nathaniel is on you again, his hand going for your hair as he digs his fingers in hard, yanking at your scalp. Your hands fly to his wrist and you scream again, pulling at him, trying to free yourself. Tears smart your eyes from the stinging pain as he yanks hard enough that you think he’ll tear you right apart.
“Fucking ungrateful,” he barks.
Your feet slide in the mud as he uses your buoyancy in the knee deep water to haul you back toward the house. You twist in his grip, mewling in panic and pain as you work to get your feet under you and fight back. You let go of his arm and throw a weak punch at his ribs. He grunts but doesn’t let go, even as you twist, hands shooting to the ground, digging through soaked earth and weeds until you feel the hard, rough shape of a rock.
Grabbing it, you lift your hand from the water and bring it down hard on Nathaniel’s wrist. He screams and lets go of your hair. Your fingers ache from the blow but you don’t waste precious minutes, scrambling to your feet and sloshing away from him again. He’s already gripping at your dress, fingers ripping at the fabric to get a hold of you.
Desperation claws at you and you scream for help. You don’t know if anyone else is out here in the dark of the woods but you don’t care. Bleeding, in pain, and terrified, you tear through the water, the rock clutched in your fingers, rushing in the dark as Nathaniel gives chase.
“Please!” you scream at the dark. “Anyone, please!”
A thread of thought slivers through you about the gods. Praying to the gods has never gotten you anywhere. It didn’t make your father let you read. It didn’t get you out of your town. It didn’t save you from this. The supposed gods who rule with light and love had never heard you and you had long stopped believing in them.
But you’d never prayed to the gods of the dark. The gods who only listen to words whispered after the setting sun.
“Please,” you beg, turning your head to the dark sky. Lighting flashes and thunder rumbles. Cool wind brushes against your face, wind that feels like it whispers I’m listening. “Please,” you scream again. “Help me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Help me!”
Nathaniel takes you down by the waist again. You gasp for air this time as your face slaps the water with a sting. The current is rushing faster here, pulling at you. Deeper. Colder. You’re close to the river, and you feel the suction of the force of the flow tugging at your body as Nathaniel digs his fingers into the meat of your arms.
This time, he doesn’t pull you with him. He holds you down, shoving you deeper and deeper until you realize that he’s no longer interested in bringing you back. You kick at him, you tear at him. You slam his wrist with the rock again but his other hand grabs yours, wrenching the weapon away from you.
Your lungs are screaming and water is rushing into your nose as oxygen escapes you. His grip is firm and you begin to panic. All you can think is help help help help. Please help.
Bubbles escape your mouth as you’re forced to breathe out again. You’re running out of time and pain starts to build in your chest. You feel the way your lungs squeeze, needing air. You let out more air and press your lips tight, desperately trying not to inhale.
Breathe in, your instincts scream. Breathe breathe breathe breathe.
Agony. You’re in agony as you open your mouth in a final cry, unable to form the words. Unable to scream and ask for a higher power that you only believe in at this moment to help you.
Water fills your mouth. You swallow it whole, feel it go down as you begin to spasm.
You’re going to die.
And then Nathaniel’s hands are gone. It takes you a moment to realize that there’s no crushing grip on your arms and in the brief moment of realization, you barely manage to push up. To break the surface and vomit, water coming out of you in a stinging, horrid mess. Your stomach turns and you feel your chest squeeze as you choke.
The storm is still raging around you, water pulling at you and pressing you into the rough bark of a tree. Blinking tears from your eyes, you look around but it’s too dark to see. You can hear Nathaniel looking for you, screaming your name in the dark.
The back of your neck tingles. There’s a feeling in the air behind you - that sliver of breath that you often sense when you’re out in the woods alone just after dark. Like something or someone is there with you, just behind you.
“What is it you want?” a deep, dark voice whispers. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end and you feel chilled to the bone. The voice is like none you’ve ever heard, sensual and dizzying.
“Want?”
“You asked for help.” The voice switches to your other ear and you don’t dare turn around to find the speaker. “What do you want?”
“What can you give?”
The voice chuckles. The sound makes you shiver, your eyelids fluttering. The voice purrs, “I can give you anything you dream, little lamb. Tell me: what do you want?”
You think about it. Lightning lances through the sky and for a brief moment, the world is a flash of silver. You see Nathaniel in the light, a few feet away from you. He’s bloody and heaving, his eyes snapping to where you hide against the tree.
“Freedom,” you gasp as the world falls to darkness again. “I want freedom.”
“What will you give me?”
“What do you want?” you beg, hearing Nathaniel move toward you.
There’s a soft hum and you feel lightheaded at the sound. “Your time.”
“My time?”
“Your time in exchange for freedom, little lamb. Better hurry, this offer is about to expire.”
Nathaniel screams in a rage. Sloshes closer to you. Your heartbeat quickens. You can feel it in your chest, hear it in your ears, your pulse throbbing as he nears.
“Okay,” you whisper, voice coming out shaky.
“Then tell me you accept.”
You take a deep breath. “I accept.”
There’s a brush at the nape of your neck, warm and soft. Though you’ve never been kissed before, you think that it’s the press of lips, intimate and barely there. Something inside you flickers to life, like a new instinct that has opened its eyes for the first time. You’re aware of another presence, a soft buzz that presses down on you as it stands up next to you.
Thunder rolls and you feel someone brush by you. A hand touches your cheek almost fondly, fingers dragging along the curve of your jaw. Blinking slowly, you lean into the touch, seeking its comfort. You don’t know who it belongs to. All you know is that just the feel of fingers on your skin has your stomach flipping, your toes curling.
The hand drops from your face and you immediately miss the contact. Opening your eyes, you see another flash of lightning. There’s someone standing in front of you dressed in black, slick with rain. You can’t make out anything much, just the shape of a man in a dark cloak.
A god. You know he’s a god, whoever this savior is. You know that something has heard your screams in the dark and has come to give you what you wanted. What you begged for.
“She is no longer available to you,” the god announces to Nathaniel. It’s not the same whisper as a moment ago, but a deep, raspy voice. Dark. Demanding. “She’s mine.”
“That’s my betrothed,” Nathaniel answers, though it comes out like a question, his voice trembling. “I– she belongs to-”
“Me,” the dark god assures. A loud clap of thunder makes you flinch. “Goodbye, Nathaniel Laudermill.”
Nathaniel screams. You don’t know what happens. There’s just his shout of terror in the dark and a roll of thunder that shakes the trees and rattles the earth. You feel the vibration in the water from the unearthly thunder before you realize that this sound, this trembling, is the wrath of a god.
The sound fades and the shaking stops. You feel more than see the god in front of you turn to face you, a sweeping warmth as he bends down. You cannot make out any features, your vision swimming with bursts of color in the lack of light.
“You’re with me now,” he assures you. “And you should not be afraid.”
Gentle hands reach out and cradle your face. You’re suddenly tired, every pain in your body weighing you down like stones, pulling at you until you’re closing your eyes and succumbing to the heavy exhaustion.
The last thing you remember is your whispered name on reverent lips.
-
You’re dreaming. Your eyes are closed in this dream but you feel light and warm. Fingers brush over your cheek, soft and reverent. You hear a gentle, deep humming, a pleasant melody. It smells like clove and cinnamon, making you drift further into the dream. You lean into the hand cupping your face and hear a deep chuckle before drifting off into nothingness.
-
The first thing you notice is the smell of clove and cinnamon. It’s a soothing scent that sends your heart fluttering as you roll over. The blankets wrapped around you feel divine, soft with a high loft that feels like you’re wrapped in clouds. The mattress is decadent, sucking you in further as you settle in on your side, inhaling deeply.
Then you remember hands tearing at your legs. Ripping you by the hair. Water filling your lungs and throat. The flash of lightning and the cold rain as you were dragged under a flood again and again.
With a gasp you sit up in bed, heart hammering. You still as you look around, mouth dropping open at the opulent room. The bed is the largest thing you’ve ever seen, on a low platform swimming with charcoal colored sheets and pillows. The headboard looks like polished obsidian, glinting in the low light provided by dozens of flickering candles.
Stone walls make up the room, rough rock with sconces of flickering flames. The room is sprawling with a sitting area a step down from the bed, decorated with chaise lounges, a coffee table and high-backed chairs situated in front of a fireplace. Flames crackle on a log, orange light dancing across the room. On either side of the fireplace are bookshelves that stretch up to the high ceiling.
Across from the bed are open double doors where you can see a magnificent bathroom. From your vantage point, you can just make out sinks carved from a hewn rock and what looks like a trickling waterfall sluicing down the wall.
Turning to the left, there is a set of glass doors, a balcony just on the other side. It appears to be nighttime outside, thousands of stars glittering through the glass and the largest moon you’ve ever seen suspended in the sky like a lone coin.
Carefully, you peel back the covers. You’re still in the wedding dress your mother made you. It’s stained and tattered and bloodied, making your stomach flip uncomfortably as you look down on it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you place your feet on the stone flooring, expecting it to be cold to the touch.
It isn’t. Warmth radiates from the floor through the soles of your feet, making you sigh, tension bleeding from your shoulders as you close your eyes for a moment. Though the aches and the pains from being scratched and hit and torn down are gone, you wince as you recall them.
Your parents were going to force you to marry Nathaniel. You don’t know how you missed the signs before, how you thought that there was any other path. With your elbows pressed to your knees, you hang your head in your hands, pressing your eyes shut and taking another shuddering breath.
This time, a sob slips out. Somehow, you had tricked yourself into thinking that your parents would abide by your wishes to make your own choices. Foolish, you realize. Your father had not grown complacent. He had been biding his time, waiting to strike.
The smallest viper has the greatest sting.
And your mother was going to let him do it. The woman who had brought you into the world screaming and bloody was going to pass you off to a man, even if it meant that man dragged you kicking and screaming to the altar.
Disgust curls in your stomach and your hands turn into firsts, pressing against your closed lids and making bursts of colors flash in your eyes. Split down the middle, one part of you mourns the loss of the parents you thought that you had. The other is an open wound, festering with a hateful infection at the very thought of them.
The sound of the door opening catches your attention. Your heart leaps as you sit up straight, dropping your hands into your lap as a man slips through the large double doors near the sitting area. Your breath catches in your chest as he sweeps into the room, looping his hands behind his back as he sets his dark eyes on you and approaches.
He’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, you think. Inky hair falls into his enigmatic eyes. His skin is deep gold, a contrast to the all-black blouse that he wears tucked into black pants. You see the open collar of his shirt revealing a patch of tan skin and an elegant throat, but it’s his face that shatters your mind.
The man - or god, you think - has a square, masculine jaw offset with a delicate mouth the color of rose petals. His nose is straight and wide and would look ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it’s the perfect balance, his cheekbones high and angular, cutting the roundness of his nose.
“Good to see you’re awake,” he greets. The man stops at the edge of the step that leads to where the bed sits higher than the rest of the room. You stare and stare and stare at him, unable to process words as he grins at you. His voice is dulcet and warm, but not the voice that promised to save you. “How do you feel?”
“I…” you rasp out and you shake your head, unable to think of anything else.
His mouth quirks and he nods. “It sounds like you had a terrible time. How about you take a well-deserved bath and get out of that terrible dress? Sorry to have left you in it, I was under strict instructions not to invade your personal space.”
“Yes, please.” You hesitate. “Where am I? Whose instructions?”
“You’re somewhere safe with someone who wants you to remain safe.”
“Where is safe?”
He gives you a secretive smile as he nods toward the bathroom before turning on his heel and striding away. On unsteady feet, you follow him. It helps that the floor is warm, giving you the strength you need to make it down the two steps and across the stone toward the bathroom.
“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer your question,” he admits. “I’m just here to help you get settled. My name is Taehyung, by the way.”
“Taehyung.” You say the word, familiarizing yourself with the shape of it as you enter the room and stop.
The bathroom is far more luxurious than you realized from afar. There is a waterfall running down the black rockface between two basins, trickling into a little fountain that drains on the floor. To the right side of the bathroom is a large body of steaming water.
Herbal scents fill the room as you near the edge of the dark surface of the water. It reminds you of hot springs in a cave near the southern villages, a place you’d only heard of but never seen. It’s massive, surrounded by a smooth, stone edge. There is a corner full of what appears to be salts, soaps and herbs alongside flickering candles.
Opposite the hot spring is a giant glass window that overlooks mountains and lush greenery. From the window, you can see the entire world of wherever you are stretched out in the most dazzling and wonderful display. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somewhere that belongs in the epitome of night.
“How deep is that?” you ask, turning to Taehyung with a wary expression as you gesture to the body of water.
His expression softens. “Waist high when you stand in the middle. There is a ledge that you can sit on all the way around. It’s incredibly safe and very warm. I can stand just outside the door if anything goes wrong.”
“Okay.”
Taehyung points to a stack of clothes resting on a stool near a cabinet full of towels and jars of things. “Those are for you to change into. The towels are for you to dry off, of course. Anything in the bathroom is yours to use.” Taehyung must sense your hesitation, because he gives you a soft smile. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
“I’d feel better if I knew where here was.”
“Bathe. Relax. Then I’ll take you to him.”
Taehyung does not give you a chance to ask to whom he refers. He strides out of the room and the door swings shut seemingly on its own. You blink a few times at it, standing in the middle of the warm bathroom in a daze.
Spinning, you look around the room and find yourself drawn to the window. Up close, you realize how high up you are. It’s a bit dizzying, and you look down at the ground only to see that there is a garden bursting with purple and blue, neat rows of flowers that stretch until they meet a line of trees.
A world of mountains unfolds beyond the window. You’ve never seen mountains but they are larger than you could have ever imagined, snowcaps stark against the night sky. It’s mesmerizing and a little too big, so you turn away from the window and head for the steaming basin of water.
Peaking over the edge, you can see the bottom. It doesn’t look that deep, but your stomach twists as you pop the buttons on your dress. Your fingers feel stiff and disjointed as you work to undress. You look down at the ripped threads and the dirty fabric and think about how much time your mother spent stitching it.
Suddenly the dress feels suffocating and you pull hard on the garment, popping buttons from the threads and sending them clattering on the floor. You shed the dress and kick it away from you, stripping off your undergarments and lowering yourself to the edge of the water.
A sigh leaves your mouth as you slide your feet and legs in first. The water is hot, though not scalding like you expected. Closing your eyes, you remain sitting on the edge for a moment, letting your calves soak and muscles unwind, fingers gripping the edge tight.
Taking a deep breath, you slide forward a little, firmly placing your feet on the ledge Taehyung spoke of. For a moment, your fear spikes. You feel it sharp in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the basin. With a few deep breaths, you carefully slide down to the ledge proper, sinking in the hot water to the chest.
“I’m not going to drown,” you whisper to yourself. The words come out shaky and you’re not entirely sure that you believe them. “I’m not going to drown, I am not going to drown, I am not going to drown.”
You repeat the mantra until you believe it, your fingers grasping the edge of the stone seat as you try to relax and melt into the water. It takes a while, but you finally grow too tired of remaining tense, taking a deep breath and gaining the courage to relax.
Gently, you rest your head against the edge of the basin. Heat seeps into your skin and you feel the anxiety bleed out of you, your tensed muscles unwinding. You hadn’t realized how clenched up you were until you let go, and your body sags a little bit in the water.
Time slips away. Thankfully, your body doesn’t hurt the way you anticipated that it would. Frowning, you press your fingers into your skin where there should be bruises and pain. There is no evidence on your skin that Nathaniel laid his hands on you the night before - the day before? You’re unsure how much time has passed, only that there is an eerie absence of your wounds.
Turning your head, you look at your dress discarded on the floor. There’s certainly evidence of a struggle spattered all over the fabric, but it makes you wonder if the god who answered your prayers has healed you.
A god.
The thought comes to you in a snap and you stare down at the water, eyes unfocusing as you try to recall the details of what happened. You remember screaming for help, the sound of your desperation ripping through your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever screamed like that, terrified and wild. You remember thinking about the gods, begging them to hear you, willing them to listen.
Water had been filling your lungs. Crushing out air. You remember the rush of the stream around you as it pulled at your fighting body. Nathaniel’s hands gripping you and holding you under viciously, fingers like claws as he tried to drown you.
Then you surfaced and choked, completely shrouded in darkness…. And you remember that quiet voice made of smoke and shadow. Thinking of it now makes you shiver, despite how hot the water is. The voice had promised you freedom in exchange for time and had taken you to wherever this place was.
You open your eyes, unsure when you had even closed them. Glancing around the room once more, you decide there is no way that you’re anywhere close to home. You’ve never seen anything like this bathroom before, a feat of what appears to be architecture and maybe magic.
Soaps and salts line the edges of the bathing pool. When you feel brave enough, you dart across the middle like a minnow, trying not to think about how you nearly crossed death’s bridge in a shallow body of water not long ago.
Unscrewing lids, you smell each of the glass bottles of liquid, humming in delight. You settle on a hard bar of soap that smells like lavender and mint. It feels good to scrub your skin raw. You imagine that you’re washing away all of the memories of Nathaniel’s fingers on your skin and the scratchy dress your mother made for you.
Fingers and feet pruned and skin feeling stripped of a top layer, you reluctantly exit the bath. The towels are the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You run the fabric between your fingers, tilting your head up at the sky and sighing. Wherever this dark god has taken you doesn’t seem so terrifying, yet it puts you more on edge, these luxuries.
The clothes Taehyung left out for you fit well enough, though it’s obvious they are not your exact measurements. He’s provided you with soft, black pants and a loose, black tunic with intricate designs that look like clouds on the sleeves and collar.
You hesitate when you’re ready to leave the bathroom. So far, it seems that whatever bargain you’ve struck with this god has been in your favor. But you know you’ve made a deal in a moment of fear, and you’re not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to.
Time.
Though you’re nervous, you can’t stay hidden in the bathroom forever. Nudging the door open, you peek around the edge, gaze sweeping the room as you look for Taehyung. He’s standing in the sitting area, face toward the flickering fire. He looks both terrifying and beautiful, hands linked behind his back as he watches the flames.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Taehyung calls without turning around. “I mean it when I tell you that you’re safe.”
Slipping through the door, you walk toward him, regarding him warily. “Still,” you answer. “I don’t know where I am. Are you even human?”
He does look over his shoulder then, flashing you a wicked grin. “I’m not.”
Taehyung’s answer doesn’t put you at ease, but you’re unsure what to do. Wordlessly, he gestures for you to follow him as he heads through the door and out of the room. For a moment, you hesitate. What would happen if you refused to leave the room? Is your deal with the god already in effect? What are its limitations?
You can answer none of the questions you have, so you follow Taehyung, hoping to find answers soon. Except as soon as you step out of the room, you think you might have even more questions.
The halls are dark and lit with flickering torches, casting an orange glow up to the cavernous ceilings. Though you’ve never been in a castle or seen one, you have an idea of how grand they are. There is no doubt in your mind that this is a castle, the halls resplendent and sweeping with artwork and fabric and statues.
In front of you, Taehyung walks jovially with his hands linked behind his back. He hums a tune you don’t know, but it sounds smooth and warm. You follow behind him, casting your gaze around as you walk, trying to remember which turns you take and what paintings you pass.
You reach a tall, closed set of wooden double doors. Taehyung raps his fingers against the door, looking over his shoulder at you with an excited grin. Your stomach flips and you wipe your palms against the bottom of your tunic. Your hands feel shaky and you twine them into the fabric, willing them to stop.
Taehyung must hear someone on the other side of the door, because he opens it and steps in and to the side, gesturing for you to enter. You take a deep breath and walk by him into the room, stopping immediately as you look up, your mouth falling open.
It’s a library grander than you could ever imagine. Your town had quite a small library at the church that belonged to the high priest, but this is something beyond your wildest dreams. The ceiling stretches higher than your imagination, filled with floating lights and stars - the entire night sky is stretched above you in swirling constellations of purple and blue.
Three floors make up the library, each lined with books and windows that look out into the evening. You can see sprawling gardens beyond the tinted glass, but it’s the shelves of books that catch your attention. Stepping into the room further, you slowly spin, looking at the sheer amount of volumes that line the walls. There are multiple seating areas with rich, velvet blue armchairs and couches, tables full of books and papers and ink bottles and maps.
Your throat tightens as you look at Taehyung, your mouth wobbling. The urge to burst into tears has never felt greater than this moment. You never imagined that you could stand in a room with so many books, and the desire to pull one off the shelf and delve in is cut short by the single, glaring fact that you don’t know how to read them.
Distracted by the books upon entry, it takes you a moment to notice another presence in the room. You feel a tingle at the back of your neck, one that draws your eyes toward a long table near the fireplace. It’s the same feeling you had when you were saved from Nathaniel, an awareness that buzzes along your skin.
A man stands in front of the table, watching you with dark, feline eyes. He’s beautiful. Otherworldly, really. His round features remind you of the moon, but it’s the sharp eyes and the careful pout of his mouth that draws you in. He looks both delicate and dangerous, and you notice the quirk on his lips as he watches you watch him.
He’s in all black. Black pants tucked into black, knee-high boots, and a black, long-sleeved shirt. There’s a layer of necklaces around his neck and you can see shapes and runes that are unfamiliar to you. The same runes and shapes are on the rings on his long, delicate fingers, folded in front of him.
This is the face of a god. You know it in the way that there’s something ancient in his eyes and in the way he glows from within. His power is tangible, a crackling energy pressing up against every nerve in your body.
“How are you feeling?” his voice vibrates right to your core. Soft and dark like you remember it, though a little rougher now. Gravelly. He studies you, unmoving. “Hopefully well-rested?”
“I feel…. Better.” Finding the words is hard in his presence, especially under the scrutiny of his gaze. You want to dart out of the room and hide, but you also don’t want to leave the library without exploring. “I think I should thank you?”
It comes out as a question and he smirks a little. Your stomach flutters at the sight; he raises a brow. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”
The door shuts behind you and you startle, whirling around to see that Taehyung has left you. Your nerves fray further and you turn back to look at the god watching you. Behind him on the table, you realize it is a feast of sorts. Roasted meats and poultry, platters of fruit, plates of cheese and neatly arranged crackers, steaming pans of vegetables and things you cannot identify.
He notices. “You must be starving. Come. Eat.” When you don’t move, he sighs. “I didn’t save you just to harm you.”
It’s true enough. You carefully approach the table, eyeing him as he unclasps his hands and pulls out a chair for you. When you hesitate, he arches a dark brow again and you feel yourself grow warm in the face, muttering your thanks as you hurry over to the chair and sit down.
The god’s presence is buzzing. He doesn’t touch you, but it’s like you feel him anyway, just an inch away from you. He helps you slide your chair in and gives a deep, contented sigh before he moves toward the opposite end of the table, taking the dull hum of energy with him.
Across the table, he sits. His gaze finds yours again as you stare at him, finding it difficult to look anywhere else. Even with the smell of a divine meal, your attention on him is a fixed point. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, casual and confident.
“Have what you like,” he offers. “I don’t know what you enjoy and I didn’t want to pry.”
The table is full of options. You chew the inside of your cheek. There is glazed duck and roasted ham, creamy looking potatoes and sauced vegetables. Your stomach growls and twists painfully as you stare at your choices.
“The duck is good,” he offers gently. You glance up. He nods towards the dish in question. “Sorry, it’s probably overwhelming.”
“A little,” you answer, but take him up on his advice and go for the duck. “Where are we?”
“In between.”
You frown as you plate different foods, fingers sticky as you do. You’re hyper-aware of him watching you and you try not to look up, feeling your hands quake as you add roasted veggies to your plate. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what you think it does. We’re at the in-between of all things. Not a solid place in your sense of understanding. It’s not a physical manifestation of a land mass, but it is a world that contains physical things.”
“A… dimension?”
“Exactly. This is my domain.”
“And what… are you?”
You look up at him then. His lips twitch at the corners and he tongues the inside of his cheek. “A god. But you already knew that.”
“Wanted to hear you say it.”
Silence falls between you as you pick up a knife and fork, cutting carefully into your meat. You pop it between your lips, sighing when the duck melts on your tongue with the taste of honey and something else. You sag in the chair, not realizing until now how tense you had been to this point. The food sends a wave of warmth through you and the god watches as you take a few bites, patient as you eat.
“This is fantastic,” you say, glancing at him as you reach for a glass of water. “The flavors are like nothing I’ve ever had.”
“I assure you that all things here are like nothing you’ve ever had.” You hum in agreement, taking another eager bite. You cannot imagine anything in the real world tasting this succulent. You almost wonder if perhaps this is all a dream. “You didn’t pray before you began to eat.”
Your chewing pauses. He’s bemused, giving you a sideways grin with his brows raised. You swallow thickly and say, “Praying never got me anywhere until recently. Why did you help me?”
“Because you asked.”
“You didn’t have to, though.”
It isn’t a question. He answers anyway. “I didn’t.”
“So why did you? The other gods have never helped me.”
“The other gods aren’t me.” His voice is soft and lethal, raising the hair on your arms. “We are not all the same, and you’d do well to not make any further comparisons moving forward.”
You lower your gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Gods are fickle beings. We are quick to offend and slow to let go. You don’t know any better and are thus forgiven.”
“What do I call you?”
For a moment, he hesitates. You think he isn’t going to answer just as he says, “Yoongi. You can call me Yoongi.”
“Is that your name?”
“It’s one of them.”
“How many names do you have?”
He chuckles. It’s a delightful sound and you smile, watching him lean his head back against his chair, looking up as he shrugs. “How much time do you have?”
Time.
Suddenly, you remember that you aren’t here on this god - Yoongi’s - good graces. You’re here because you called for someone in a moment of need and he agreed to help you, but at a cost. Your time. He had asked for your time, and a sense of anxiety tiptoes its way up your spine as you think about the ambiguity of his deal.
Swallowing harshly, you shift back in your seat. The food in your stomach feels a little heavy, far too rich for you to eat more than a few bites. You’ve only ever known your parents’ staples of meat, bread, cheese, and root vegetables.
“When you saved me,” you begin. “You made a deal with me.”
“I did.”
“My freedom in exchange for my time.”
His eyes are glittering as he watches you, completely still. The fireplace next to you crackles. It makes shadows dance across his face, giving him the appearance of something wild and untamed. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch him, this godly being, as he stares you down.
“That was the deal,” he finally hums. His head cocks to the side a little. “I don’t usually discuss business over dinner.”
“I’m done eating.”
He huffs but doesn’t seem annoyed. “Perhaps tea, then? It will help settle your stomach.”
You narrow your eyes. “How do you know that my stomach needs settling?”
“I know a lot of things.” Yoongi rises and gestures to the chairs directly in front of the fireplace. You stand, following his lead. There’s a quiver of energy in the air and you pause, turning to look back at the table to see it’s completely bare, no trace of anything left. You whip around to look at Yoongi as he sits in a wingback chair. “I can do a lot of things.”
A steaming cup of tea sits on a wooden table next to the chair you sink into. The cushions are soft, swallowing you in and making your muscles melt. The cup is warm when you pick it up, steam curling off the surface. Sniffing, your eyes flutter as you inhale the smell of mint.
“What are you the god of?” You open your eyes and look at him. Both of his feet are planted flat on the floor, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He looks a little stiff, more so than he did at dinner. Orange firelight reflects in his inky eyes. “You’re a god of the dark.”
“There’s no such thing,” he scoffs, and you frown. “Your concept of gods is skewed. There is neither good nor evil, light nor dark. There are just gods.”
“So it doesn’t matter who you pray to?”
“We don’t need your patronage. If we did, we wouldn’t be gods, would we?” You’d never thought of it that way. You sip your tea, letting the warmth and sharp mint bloom in your mouth. “We’re beyond the simple classification that mortals use to understand and organize what they think our intentions are. I have been classed as both good and evil, light and dark, benevolent and malevolent.”
“But surely there are things that are inherently evil, even among the gods.”
“Of course there isn’t. Evil is a point of view. It is a word used to define the feeling one has when the opposite of their desire occurs.”
“I… guess that makes sense. But isn’t something like murder wrong?”
“Are you not the villain of the duck you ate today?” You blanch. Yoongi looks smug as he gestures vaguely with his hands. “Are you not evil for calling down the wrath of a god on Nathaniel Laudermill?”
“He was going to kill me.”
“You rejected his hand in marriage. You did the opposite of what he desired. I believe in his eyes, you are the evil. Is Death evil for doing what he was made to do?”
Yoongi’s words make your head spin. You gulp a mouthful of scalding tea before setting it on the table next to you, your mind reeling. The realization that you’re sitting in a library with a starry ceiling arguing over morals and the concept of evil with a god who has saved you from certain death makes you giggle.
He seems surprised by your sudden outburst, raising his brows as you cover your mouth, your fingers pressed to your lips as you try to contain your sudden mirth. “Sorry. This seems absolutely insane. I’m arguing over the word ‘evil’ with a god in a realm that is everywhere and nowhere at all. It feels like perhaps I’m dreaming.”
“You’re not. Though your dreams are dizzying and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You should be proud of them.” You furrow your brows. How does he know what you dream of? Before you can ask him to clarify, Yoongi says, “You wanted to discuss the deal.”
“Oh. Right. What did you mean by wanting my time in exchange for my freedom?”
“It’s simple. I want you to spend two weeks each month here.”
Yoongi’s words sink in as you look at the window behind him. Outside, the world is sinking into what you think might be night. The sky is swimming with stars and constellations, stuck in a perpetual twilight of sorts. You’re reminded that somehow, Yoongi is like the moon and the night itself, especially when you find his dark gaze on you as he waits for your response.
“Why?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company.”
“That’s it? You just want me to hang out in exchange for saving me?” He nods. “That seems too easy.”
His lips curve upward. “Maybe I’m very annoying.”
For some reason you think it might not be true. You think of all the things that you’ve heard about the gods. Yoongi tells you that everything you know about them is wrong, but you know that the gods of the dark are tricksters. They are experts in the art of luring mortals in, and you wonder if that’s what he’s doing now.
“Does it have to be consecutive weeks?” you ask, trying to bide time to collect your thoughts and work out his intentions. “Or can it be a collective?”
“Consecutive.”
“What… what happens when I go home? With my family.”
Yoongi’s face grows stormy. You shift in your seat. “You’re under my protection,” he says after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll bear a mark that protects you. No one will force their will upon you again.”
“Can you?”
He shakes his head, long hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He looks haunting in the firelight, but beautiful. You avert your gaze, fixating on the books in the room instead. “You have my word, I will never control you. I promised you freedom, that includes me.”
“But I have to be here. I can’t escape from that. Is that freedom?”
“You made that decision of your own free will. It’s your words that bind you here, not mine. While you’re here, you are able to do whatever it is you desire. In fact, I encourage it.”
“Wording is really important to you, isn’t it?”
He chuckles and inclines his head, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “It is. Consider the first day of your deal already spent. You slept most of it off while you healed.” Yoongi stands, drawing your attention to him. “Sleep more,” he insists gently. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a tour.”
The thought of a tour - and seeing Yoongi for more days - thrills you. Taehyung appears at the doorway as Yoongi escorts you out. He wishes you goodnight and lets Taehyung take you back to your room, though you feel his gaze and presence as you leave.
It isn’t until you’re back in your room that you realize you never asked Yoongi how long your deal is supposed to last. It occurs to you that while he has given you a sort of freedom, perhaps he has taken something from you after all.
-
Tall trees surround you. Above them, you can make out a swirling sky of stars and planets and several moons, so bright that it turns the forest a shade of blue. The woods around you are familiar, and there’s a well-walked path just ahead of you that leads to the river by your home. You’ve walked among these trees and creatures hundreds of times, but never with a sky like this.
Crickets chirp as you walk through the woods now. Grass tickles your bare feet, the earth soft and damp beneath you. It smells like fresh rain, but there’s no flood or mud as you navigate by instinct.
It’s peaceful out here. How many times have you come here to escape your father’s rage? How many times have you sat, back pressed against a tree, watching the light fade from the world until it was too dark to see where you were going? You always managed to get home safely, even with the lack of light.
The river rushes a few yards ahead. You pick a spot to sit and watch, beneath the cover of leaves. The sound of running water and the smell of rain on the wind lulls you into a trance and you close your eyes, resting for a while.
Here is where you find peace. Where you dream.
Awareness creeps up on you and you open your eyes, looking upward as you sense someone approaching. Yoongi stands next to you, onyx eyes gazing at the river. He’s in black clothes like before, his hands tucked into his pockets. You smell clove and cinnamon, making you dizzy. Power radiates off of him but it feels warm and safe. Like the night air itself comes from his existence.
“Am I dreaming?” you ask him. He looks down at you, an obsidian strand of hair falling in his face. He nods, giving you a gentle smile. “This is often where I go to dream.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer you. He looks back to the rushing river, his face becoming unreadable. He looks like he’s somewhere far away, lost in his thoughts. Absently, he says, “Your dreams are my favorite.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are bright, full of life and color and sound. You dream the way people create art, the way people create worlds. It is rare to see such magnificence among the sleeping.”
“I just…” you shrug. “Think of places I would rather be.”
Yoongi looks at you then and his face is shadowed, full of thunder. “You’ll never be forced to live that life again.”
“Do you promise?”
He opens and closes his mouth, narrowing his eyes a little before shaking his head. You feel a smile tug at your mouth, endeared by his microexpressions. “Yes, little lamb. I promise.”
-
You wake with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around. The room spins as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your physical and mental awareness completely out of sync as you swivel your head, drinking in the unfamiliar room and the soft sheets that smell like clove and cinnamon.
For a moment, you forget where you are, and adrenaline surges through you. Your fingers twist in the sheets as you ground yourself, memories from the day before slotting into place. Letting out a long exhale, you relax, flopping backward in the opulent bed, your heart rate slowing down as your panic bleeds out of you.
You’re in Yoongi’s home. In a place that is somewhere in between - whatever that means. The god has told you on multiple occasions that you’re safe and have nothing to fear from him and for some reason…. You believe him. Maybe it’s naive, but you can’t erase the feeling that Yoongi is being honest with you, that he has good intentions.
Perhaps it’ll get you into trouble one day. For now, you cast off doubt and peel yourself out of bed, trailing to the windowed doors that lead to the balcony beyond. You try the handle and are delighted to find them unlocked. Slipping through the doors, you’re met with warm, balmy air. It smells like petrichor, the breeze kissing your skin gently.
Like before, the world seems wrapped in permanent twilight. There is no sun in the sky, but a vast stretch of swimming stars and the largest moon you’ve ever seen. In the distance, dark mountains loom over you, their peaks capped in snow and wreathed in mist.
Forest stretches out toward them in a vibrant shade of green. There’s a settee on the balcony along with a table and chairs. Leaning on the stone railing, you look down to see colorful gardens and a large pond full of vibrant fish.
All of the radiance makes you smile. You’ve never seen colors so rich, and you’re unable to recall if your world was this vibrant. The garden below is bursting with violet and cerulean, the flowers unfamiliar to you. Their fragrant smell wafts up to the balcony, a hint of sweetness in the air.
A roll of thunder catches your attention. You look to the east, noticing that one of the mountains in the distance is darker than the others. Lightning crackles in the sky around it and the mist is heavier there. You think the trees are darker too, though you can’t tell if they’re gray or if it’s the shade from the swollen thunderheads drifting over them.
Behind you, the door to the balcony opens and startles you. Whirling around, you find Taehyung leaning against the frame, mouth curved upwards in a sideways grin. “When you didn’t answer the door I got worried.”
“I thought I was safe here? What is there to be worried about?”
He shrugs. “Maybe you took a dive off of the balcony.”
“What is that place?” you point to the thundering, shrouded mountain. Taehyung looks where you point, his smile dropping as he stares at the looming peak. “By the look on your face, somewhere bad.”
“Bad is a relative term.”
You scrunch your nose. “You sound like Yoongi.”
“Already familiar, are we? Cute.” He pushes off the door frame and beckons you inside. “Ask Yoongi about it on your tour.”
“Are you not coming along?”
“I have things to do.”
“Like what?”
“Not give tours.”
If it weren’t for Taehyung’s playful tone and glint in his eye when he casts you a glance, you’d think you were bothering him. Instead of getting angry, he drapes himself on one of the couches by the fireplace, long legs dangling off the arm as he lounges.
Today, he’s in charcoal colored pants and a red, billowing shirt that shows off the smooth, tan skin of his chest. A dangling earring catches your attention as he leans his head back, silky hair shifting. If Yoongi is made of moonlight, you think that Taehyung might be made of sunlight: golden skin, warm energy.
“By all means,” you mutter. “Hang out.”
“This is my home first, human. I shall do as I please.”
You make a sound at the back of your throat and roll your eyes, walking toward a large, polished wardrobe made from dark wood. It smells like fresh cedar when you pull on the brass handle, opening the door to reveal tunics and dresses, all hung neatly.
Rich silks, velvets and cottons greet you. You run your hand over the materials, amazed at how soft they feel. They are far better quality than your mother ever had access to. Your heart squeezes when you think of her, and you shake your head a little as if to physically dispel thoughts of your family out of your mind.
Facing them seems like an impossible task. You know that you’ll have to eventually. Two weeks with Yoongi in this strange world seems like a long time, but you’re not sure if it’s nearly long enough to mentally prepare to go back and face them after what’s happened. Will they still be angry? What will they say? Will they have been worried about you all this time?
There’s no way to know the answer. So instead, you pretend none of that exists. For once, you have stumbled into a dream and adventure like you’ve always wanted, and you intend on playing the part.
An emerald shirt catches your eye. It’s made of a silky material, supple when you rub the sleeve between your fingers. It’s plain, save for the laced string at the throat to cinch and tie it off. You grab a pair of black, cotton pants as well, the fabric just as soft as the sheets in your bed.
With Taehyung humming on the couch, you let yourself into the bathroom to change. You appreciate that the floor is warm wherever you go barefoot, and you quickly slide out of your clothes from the previous day and into the new ones. The measurements are a little off, but more than manageable as you pull the tie closed at your throat. Glancing into the mirror, you can’t help but smile a little.
You look so different. The shirt belongs to someone adventurous, you think. Perhaps a pirate or a huntress riding atop her horse through the woods. You slide your fingers along the material, its softness inviting and magical.
Two weeks. You’ll be here for two weeks with Yoongi, a god who has been alive for hundreds of years, if your conversation from the night before was anything to go off of. It feels surreal and you’re a little nervous, but more than that, you’re excited.
Suddenly, the world is full of possibilities. No marriage to tie you down, no power held in your parents’ hands.
“Gods you’re slow to get dressed,” Taehyung announces when you enter the room. He sits up, appraising your outfit. “Green looks good on you.”
“How many are there?” he cocks his head at your question, peeling himself from the seat. “Gods and goddesses, I mean.”
“Pfft. Hundreds.”
“Hundreds?”
“Maybe thousands, I don’t really know. There’s basically an infinite amount of universes. All anyone mostly cares about are the Eternals, the gods who remain the same no matter what name or history mortals assign to them.”
“Eternals?”
“Mhmm.” Taehyung leads you into the hallway. His hands are tucked into his pockets as he strolls leisurely. You follow beside him eagerly, looking up as he seems thoughtful. “Gods are hard to define. They are great beings with massive power. Some gods do the same thing, some don’t. They come from the infinite amount of worlds to which they are native, and somehow make it into mortal history. But the Eternals have always been here, always known. They do not change.”
“Who are the Eternals?”
“Life, death, chaos, time, pathos, dream and fate.” He makes a face then. “Fate and chaos are hard. They work in direct opposition to one another. It drives time insane, naturally.”
Seven Eternals. It makes sense, from a logical standpoint. Every world must have life and death and the passing of time. Where there exists a living thing, there exists a vessel of emotion and dreams. In all worlds there is the potential for chaos disrupting fate.
“Yoongi is an Eternal?”
Taehyung glances sidelong at you, smug. “Yes, Yoongi is an Eternal.”
“Why do you look at me like that when I say his name?” Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead smirking as if he’s enjoying a private joke. Your fists close and open as you swallow down a demand to tell you what he finds so amusing. “Which one is he?”
“Have you no guesses?”
That makes you think. Recalling the night before, you remember the way Yoongi looks: dark eyes swimming with something magical, a soft and raspy voice, the way he appeared in your dreams.
Though your dreams are mesmerizing and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You recall what he said about your dreams, the way he leveled his gaze at you, full of meaning that you didn’t understand.
“Dreams,” you say, certain that you're right. “He’s the Eternal of Dreams?”
“He isn’t of dreams. He is Dream.”
You’re unable to clarify Taehyung’s emphasis on Yoongi being a deity of dreams as he opens the door to the same library as before. This time, he doesn’t knock. When you step inside, you realize it’s because the room is empty. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen, though pale light filters in through the windows. It’s still forever twilight outside, yet a little lighter. It feels like morning, even if it does not entirely appear to be morning.
Behind you, the door shuts. You turn to see Taehyung has left without another word, leaving you entirely alone in the captivating space.
Without hesitation, you walk to the nearest shelf housing rows and rows of books. The spines range from muted browns and neutrals to bright reds and rich blues. Velvet books, leather books, canvas, silk. There is no shortage of materials making up each one, letters painted, printed or stitched down the back of them to denote what they are.
Each one breathes a world of possibility as you drag your finger along the shape of them. You wonder how many worlds and histories are scribbled away in the pages of this room, the very idea of it overwhelming.
Trinkets and objects you’re unfamiliar with line the shelves as well. Your fingers trace their shape and you wonder what they are. One object in particular catches your eye in the corner of the room. It stands on three metal legs and has large, interlocking rings that spin lazily in some unknown pattern. The rings are hammered metal and appear to have markings engraved on them.
The device slowly spins of its own accord. Upon inspection, there seems to be nothing else responsible for its motion except magic or science that is beyond you. You can see that there are seven metal rings and different markings on each of them, but you cannot guess what the engravings read.
“It represents the balance of the Eternals. Taehyung mentioned you had a vague starting point as to what I am.”
Yoongi’s deep voice makes you leap and screech, spinning on your heels to face him. Your hand flies to your chest and you can feel your heartbeat rattling wildly. Yoongi stands a few feet away from you, hands linked behind his back and eyebrows raised at your reaction.
He’s dressed similar to the night before, though a little more casual. His black pants are tucked into knee high boots, and his black shirt is loose fitted with silver stitching around the collar. You notice that it’s in patterns of stars and moons, furthering your confirmation that Yoongi is associated with dreams in some manner.
Yoongi’s long hair is pulled half out of his face today, tied away in a bun. The rest of his hair brushes the tops of his shoulders as his inky eyes regard you patiently. His curiosity makes you feel warm all over and you drop your hands to your sides, fingers twitching.
“How so?” you ask. You turn back to the device. “What does it run on?”
“Our energy. Each ring represents a member of my family. The speed at which they turn represents the balance among us. When the speed is off, the balance is off.”
“What causes the balance to be off?”
Yoongi steps closer to you. You hold your breath as he does it, but you can feel his presence like a buzzing vibration at the back of your neck.
His voice is softer when he answers, “A number of things. Sometimes some of us aren’t always performing the way we should be. Other times, we’re overperforming. Or fighting, really, as siblings are wont to do.”
“I don’t know what that’s like.”
“You’re not missing much. Especially when your siblings are as ancient and never ending as you are.”
“How… old are you?”
You look at Yoongi to see he’s standing next to you now. He looks at you, face impassive as he lifts a shoulder. “How old is the earth? How old is existence? It’s hard to say.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Chaos was first. Life and Death were next, twins born of the sudden whims of Chaos. I was next, for Life often dreamed. Time was always there, though no one knows if Time or Chaos came first. Pathos and Fate came later.”
You nod, though you don’t fully understand the scope of how old and fathomless the existence of things like chaos and time and dreams are. It makes your head spin, trying to conceptualize the thing next to you who looks very much like an ordinary man being something so ancient and primordial that he precedes human existence entirely.
“You’re overwhelmed,” he notes, a bit of amusement in his voice. “I don’t blame you. The best way to understand it is that I am a living concept that can never be destroyed, so long as there exists something to dream about.”
Crossing his arms in front of him, Yoongi clasps his hands and gives you a slight smile. He has a pretty smile, you realize. Delicate and almost shy. It makes your heart flutter and you mentally chastise yourself for thinking that a being of eternal dreams can possibly be shy.
“How about a tour? Our deal is that you’ll spend two weeks a month here. I’d love for you to feel like this is a place you can be familiar with, if not something akin to a home.”
“Home?”
His smile grows. “If that word ever seems fitting, sure.”
Home. The word makes you think about what home means to you and suddenly you feel a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. Flashes of a flooded forest, lighting lancing across the sky, hands gripping you tight and shoving you under the water.
“Um,” you clear your throat. “So a tour.”
Yoongi’s eyes glitter as he grins and turns, using a hand to gesture to the wide library. “This is the main library, but we’ll end our tour here. Let’s go through the gardens first, it’s nice weather.”
Yoongi starts without you, leaving you to stand staring after him as he goes. His gait is smooth and confident. He presses on a pane of glass that you realize is a door. A breeze teases the loose pieces of his hair, carrying the familiar scent of clove and cinnamon toward you.
For a moment, you stare after him. Yoongi being a deity of dreams makes so much sense in this moment, stepping into the twilight, face tilted upward slightly as though he’s soaking up the sun. He looks radiant. Tranquil. When he turns to look at you expectantly, his rose pink mouth quirks sideways.
“Right,” you say, hurrying to follow him. “Outside is where we start.”
When you pass him, you get the sense that Yoongi wants to tease you further. Instead, he says nothing and leads you into the gardens. A cobblestone path leads from the door through wisteria trees, their amethyst leaves swooping down and filling the air with sweet fragrance.
Up above, the sky is a mix of blue and purple, thousands of stars twinkling. There is a stone bench near one of the windows of the library, but Yoongi leads you away from the palace and down the path under the trees. The air is crisp and pleasant, cooling your anxious, sweat-slick skin.
Yoongi links his hands behind his back. “This is the library garden,” he informs you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s mostly wisteria trees, which are my favorite to walk through when I need to think.”
“They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Much different from the woods outside of your home.”
“You know the woods outside of my home?”
“You called me there, remember?” You blanch at the memory, but if he notices, Yoongi says nothing. “Besides, I’m familiar with the woods that surround your home. Your village pays homage to my brother.”
“Your brother?”
He hums. “Life. Perhaps they don’t know that it’s him they pray to, but they do.”
Taking a left, Yoongi leads you on a looping path through the massive wisteria trees. They’re larger than anything you’ve ever seen, their bows sweeping monoliths of purple, trunks thick as boulders. A strange creature sits on the branches of one of the trees, making you stop and stare.
A tiny, carnelian creature sits on a bough, bright against the lavender background of the leaves. It has four legs and scaled feet, sharp talons cutting into the bark as it keeps its balance in the tree. Small wings are folded on its back, bony limbs with paper-thin skin between them, a lighter red than the rest of its body. A long tail snakes around the branch, holding the creature in place as its long neck extends, head tilting to look at you curiously.
“Is that a dragon?” you whisper, staring at it.
You’ve only heard them described in stories, but you don’t really know what they look like. It has scales like a lizard and it blinks two large eyes at you, entirely black. There are small horns on its head, and a forked tongue snakes out as it tastes the air.
“She’s a fey dragon,” Yoongi hums, looking up at the creature with a smile. “And she’s not supposed to be in the trees here, are you?”
A puff of smoke curls from the dragon’s nose as it huffs, making you take a step backward. Yoongi lets out a deep laugh that makes a tingle rattle down your spine and your toes curl. The sound is like smoke and velvet, heady in the air.
“She won’t hurt you,” Yoongi assures, shaking his head to continue walking under the dragon’s branch. “She’s a pesky little thing, but she is incredibly sweet. Fey dragons are much smaller than their firedrake cousins and less dangerous than their basilisk relatives.”
With your eyes cast upward, you hurry after Yoongi, keeping your gaze on the large lizard as you run under the branch. Her dark eyes follow you, unblinking and fathomless. The hair on your arms stands up and you can’t help but feel that despite the dragon being small and what Yoongi calls harmless, it is incredibly intelligent.
“There are dragons here?”
“There is everything here.”
You frown, finally turning away from the dragon as you leave it behind. “That’s confusing. Everything as in…?”
“When you dream, you have limitless potential. You can go anywhere, be anything, see any creature. Dreams even invent things that do not exist in the natural world. Creatures, stories, songs, words, plants. The possibility for creation in a dream is limitless, and this place is the essence of dreams. It is me.”
“So you are this place and the place is you?”
He seems thoughtful before nodding. “More or less. This is a dream realm as much as it is a collection of ideas, thoughts and hopes. Everything that every living creature has ever dreamed about walks these lands.”
“Even nightmares?”
Yoongi pulls up short and whips his head at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to meet his eyes under his severe expression. In the distance, you swear you hear thunder. An apology springs to your lips, but before you can give it, Yoongi nods sharply once and begins walking again.
“Nightmares too. Do not speak of nightmares here, lest they come searching.”
You think about Taehyung telling you that you were safe but being concerned when you didn’t answer the door earlier that morning. A chill seeps into your bones as you rejoin Yoongi on your walk, his pace not as relaxed now.
“They come searching?” you try, a little curious, a little afraid.
“Yes. They are different from dreams. Unpredictable in a way I admire and dislike.” He glances sidelong at you. “They have a mind of their own. You are safe with me always, but it’s best practice to not think of them while you’re here. This world has a way of manifesting.”
For a few moments, you walk in silence. You let your questions fall silent as you look around. The two of you exit the wisteria trees to see a large pond. A single, massive wisteria sits on its western edge with a bench underneath it.
The surface of the pond is dark and smooth, reflecting the swirling stars in the sky. Yoongi leads you around the mirror surface and points out the mountains in the distance that you could see from your windows.
“Mountains of Sleep,” he tells you. “It is where all beings who are ready for their eternal rest come to dream for the remainder of their existence. They are also called the Mountains of Divinity, for there are hundreds of divine immortals among their peaks.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Not all beings rest here. Some prefer their own planes and resting grounds. But this existed before those places, and has long been used for the tired and the weary who are ready to retire.”
“Are they dead?”
“No. The dead cannot come here.” He hesitates. “When they do, it is because they are not a dream.”
You get the sense that Yoongi is talking about nightmares again and you shiver as he takes you around the pond. “Don’t let anything in that body of water convince you to go swimming. They won’t intentionally hurt you but they don’t understand the concept of human life.”
“They?”
“They don’t have a name. They are water-folk who were dreamt up by someone once. I admire them and they’re beautiful and wicked smart, but they’re a bit cheeky.”
“I’m starting not to feel as safe as you said I was.”
Yoongi stops and frowns. He lifts a hand as though he’s about to touch your arm before he thinks better of it and drops it at his side. You realize you’re disappointed that he did before mentally kicking yourself, feeling a little ashamed to be so affected by a god. You’re sure Yoongi gets it often, but it makes you feel silly nonetheless.
“You are safe.” He lowers his head a little, catching your gaze. Though his eyes are midnight black, you swear you see the stars above reflected in their dark pools. “But there are rules everywhere. This place has them just the same as your home did. You were relatively safe there, but there were rules.”
“And then I broke them and Nathaniel tried to murder me.”
“Nathaniel was dealt with and will never touch you again.” Thunder rolls in the distance and your heart flutters at the vehemence with which Yoongi says this. “The misdeeds of your family cannot chase you here.”
You don’t press Yoongi on the matter. Instead, you let him proceed with the tour, keeping your questions to a minimum as you wonder what Yoongi meant by Nathaniel being dealt with. You recall the soft, susurrated voice against your ear when Yoongi found you. The gentle brush of something like a kiss to your neck. The rage and power as he stepped in front of you to face Nathaniel when the deal was done.
It does not require much to make an assumption about Yoongi’s meaning.
The yards of his palace are sprawling and full of color. Gardens with flowers he doesn’t know the name of but said a little girl had dreamed them and he liked them so he made more. Butterflies with colors you didn’t know existed flitting from plant to plant. Fruit orchards with the ripest, reddest apples you’ve ever seen.
And the palace. It is the only word you have for it. The building is several stories tall, hewn from dark stone with at least five different towers. Starlight glitters in the windows as Yoongi guides you up the stairs toward the massive double doors that lead to the main entrance of the castle. On the door handle are two wrought-iron griffons with proud faces.
Without a touch, the doors open on Yoongi’s arrival. You wonder if the building responds to his presence as the door swings open for the two of you. Inside, the foyer is as magnificent as the library, a lush purple carpet rolling over stone floors.
In the center of the room is a massive spiral staircase. Looking up, you see that it goes all the way up the floors of the palace, dizzying circles of floor after floor. Yoongi explains there are other ways to go all the way up to the top throughout the castle but this is the easiest way, though he assures you that by the third floor you’d be out of breath.
Each room Yoongi shows you is opulent and warm. Rich, deep wooden furniture, paintings with dark splashes of amethyst, scarlet and gold. Rooms for tea, rooms for painting, rooms for music, rooms for dancing. Yoongi has a room for everything, sometimes occupied by strange little creatures that hide when you walk in or curious things that lift their heads when they see him.
No one else besides Taehyung seems to be there, though. You come across felines, little balls of light that bounce around Yoongi excitedly and light him up like a burst of flame, a little furry thing that you think is a fox but in a shade of shocking sapphire, and a massive wolf with eyes like ice that blink apathetically at you as you walk by. But never once do you see another person. Even Taehyung seems to be amiss.
“Does no one else live here?” Yoongi takes you through another room empty of people and things. “It’s so empty.”
He takes his time to answer as you leave the room and move into the hallway. It’s hard to tell which way you’re going, but you think that you’re headed toward the library again. Your legs ache from going up and down the stairs on an endless tour of rooms, and you’re eager to be in the library once more.
“There used to be,” Yoongi says slowly. “But people don’t tend to do well in places that they don’t belong.”
“So you’re all alone here?”
His smile is sad. “I have Taehyung.” He pauses before he adds, “And now you.”
I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company. You think of Yoongi’s words from the night before and suddenly you’re filled with sadness. Sadness for this ancient being, who seems so gentle and quiet. Who lives alone in this giant castle with all of the world’s dreams around him and no one to share them with.
Swallowing thickly, you nod. “How do you know I belong?”
“Pardon?”
“Do I? Belong, I mean. You wouldn’t… have me here if I wouldn’t do well, right?”
“No one dreams the way you do.” He says this firmly. Confident. Fierce. “I believe there is nothing you wouldn’t be able to find here.”
“Do you always know what I dream about?”
“No. But you dream… loudly. Colorfully. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore. I don’t like to pry, though.”
“Can you see everyone’s dreams?”
“Mhmm. I even make some.”
This catches your attention and you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. He glances down where your fingers touch his skin, your fingers buzzing where you’re connected. You flush with warmth and drop your hand, clearing your throat at how forward grabbing him was.
Yoongi is smirking when you ask, “Can you show me?”
“One day, yes. For now, the end of the tour and lunch.”
At the mention of lunch, your stomach rumbles. His grin spreads into a full smile and Yoongi leads you back to the library. Again, the doors open without his touch and as you pass them, you study them for any sign of an auto-opening mechanism but find none.
Yoongi’s magic appears limitless. You remember the food disappearing from dinner, the swell of power as Yoongi agreed to save you, and his sudden appearance as you were drowning. You know nothing about the god of dreams or what he’s capable of, but you’re awed at how easy it comes to him.
“This is the main library.” Yoongi turns around to face you, sweeping his arms out on either side of him. “There are two others: one in my room and one located in the dream tower.”
“You didn’t show me the dream tower.”
“I’ll show you when you’re ready.”
Unsure what ready means to Yoongi, you look around the library. Same as the night before, the shelves are crammed full of books and scrolls, so much paper and ink that it makes you lightheaded with excitement. It still smells of lemon and wax, though as you pass Yoongi to go to a shelf, you’re overcome with clove and cinnamon again.
Trying to ignore the shiver that merely walking by Yoongi gives you, you brush the spines of books once again, feeling their potential under your fingertips.
“You always have access to this library. You can read what you like.”
A pang goes through you and you drop your hand. Without looking at him, you mumble, “Thank you, but I can’t read.”
No response comes. You stare unseeing at the books before taking a breath to turn your head and steal a glance at Yoongi. You expect some sort of amusement or perhaps pity, but his face is unreadable, jaw working.
“That’s okay,” he finally says. “We will teach you. After lunch we will make a schedule to help fill your time here. Reading and writing lessons will be a part of that.”
Your heartbeat quickens. “Do you mean that?”
“Do you want to learn?” You nod your head eagerly. He grins gently. “Then we will teach you.”
-
Yoongi’s eyes are dark as he presses forward. Your breath catches in your chest as you lay back, looking up at him with your lips parted, heart hammering in your chest. He settles his waist against you, the weight of him pressing you into your bed as you lay back.
He is so beautiful that it puts you in a daze, staring up into his face as he leans over you. His hair is pulled back, but a few dark strands hang loose. His mouth is stained red with wine, making you want to lean forward and taste his lips and feel their softness.
Tentatively, you reach a hand up and brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear. You don’t stop touching him, though, hand cradling his flushed face. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your palm as you cup his cheek, thumb sweeping back and forth.
“Is this what you dream of?” he whispers, eyes remaining closed. “Being under me, like this?”
Dreaming. You realize you’re dreaming. You jolt and suddenly, you’re alone.
-
“Your handwriting is terrible,” Taehyung admits, looming over your shoulder. You grip the quill tighter, nearly snapping it in two. “But you learn unbelievably fast. How many of these letters do you think you have consistently memorized?”
Taehyung is in charge of your writing lessons today and you already want to kill him. It’s been five days of your new residency in the House of Dreams, as Yoongi calls it, and you’ve quickly learned that Taehyung is equally charming and playful as he is outright vexing.
Instead of turning to give him a very harsh poke in the arm with your quill, you scan the shapes in front of you. There are twenty-six of them, all awkwardly slanted and misshapen where you’ve used too much ink or not enough. Using a quill and ink feels alien to your hand and your fingers struggle to remember the proper way to hold it as you draw your letters.
“I think most of them,” you answer slowly, mentally sounding out each word on the page in your head as you go. “But there are a few of them that confuse me. The lowercase ‘d’ and ‘b’ I find nearly impossible to recall and ‘v’ and ‘u’ are rather frustrating.”
“Whenever you see a ‘u’, think of it as having a scoop. Sc-uuup.” Taehyung points to a ‘u’ on the page and mimics the scooping motion. “Might be easier to associate the sound scoop with ‘u’ even though the word itself doesn’t have a ‘u’.”
The desperate look you give him makes him laugh as you struggle to imagine why a word with a ‘u’ sound doesn’t actually contain the letters. You’re saved from Taehyung’s maddening - but helpful - instruction as Yoongi walks into the library.
“You’d better not be laughing at her again.”
Taehyung steps away from you and bows his head toward Yoongi. “I’m laughing with her. We’re just sharing amusement over the hypocrisy of letters.”
“Yeah,” you deadpan. “It’s hilarious.”
Today, Yoongi is in a deep, amethyst colored shirt. It’s laced at the throat with the familiar moon and stars that he has stitched on much of his clothing, and his hair down and long, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. As always, he’s in dark pants and boots today, the sound of them clicking on the stone floor as he nudges Taehyung out of the way to peer over your shoulder.
You tense. Being around Yoongi for the last five days has been intoxicating. It is bad enough that you get distracted during your lessons by the way his voice rumbles when he speaks and the way he chews his lips when working on his own things while you study. It’s worse that now he invades your dreams, whispering in your ear and hands wandering over your curves, sinful mouth brushing over your skin and leaving you to jolt awake in bed covered in sweat.
The very idea that Yoongi knows what you're dreaming of drives you to the edge of insanity. He’d promised he preferred to avoid your dreams, but you wonder if he knows. Knows that you have developed an insatiable habit of fantasizing about his hands, or about the tone of his voice.
Gripping your quill tight, you hold your breath when he leans over you. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel the heat of him and smell him, cinnamon and clove making your eyes flutter. If you didn’t know he was the god of dreams, you’d mistake him for the god of lust, if that was a thing.
“Why aren’t you breathing?” You peer upward to see Yoongi looking down at you. If you tilted your head back just a fraction more, you’d be pressed against his chest. Even from upside down, his moon-pale face and cosmos eyes make you want to scream. “Are you alright?”
“Nervous that I’m not performing well.”
His face softens. “You’re a quick learner. Don’t worry about progress and pace.”
“But what if I lose it when I go h- back.”
Home. That’s what you were going to say. But the idea of home is terrifying. You don’t know what waits for you when you go back. You don’t know what splitting time between two worlds means. You don’t know what you’ll do when you have to spend two weeks there before coming back to Yoongi.
Five days in Yoongi’s realm has been enough to make you feel like this has always been your life. You fit into the daily routines of Yoongi and Taehyung better than you imagined, and though you still sometimes get lost in the House of Dreams, you discover that you’re adapting.
There’s always something new to discover, an adventure around the corner. You like learning your letters and the sounds that they make. You love studying the maps in the library and tracing the distances between countries you can’t name and have no idea where they are.
Most of all, you love exploring. Rooms upon rooms of objects both normal and magical. Creatures that roam freely around the palace - including a clever little fox that has taken interest in following you around as you take breaks from studying by walking around the grounds.
While Yoongi’s home doesn’t feel like it belongs to you, you’re more afraid to go back to your mother and father than you are to go near the pond at the edge of the wisteria garden.
So you avoid thinking of going back.
“You’ll practice while you’re there,” Yoongi says, as though it’s the easiest answer in the world. “You have to practice every day.”
“My father won’t- he doesn’t…” You shake your head, unable to get the words out. That your father would strike you to the ground if he found you with books again. “I can’t bring anything back with me.”
“Sure you can.” You glance at him to find his expression is firm. “I told you, you’re under my protection. Things will be very different for you when you go back.”
“How?”
“It’s… difficult to say.”
Yoongi offers nothing else. You become hyper aware of how close he’s standing to you again and you look down at your letter practicing. With a shaky hand, you dip the quill into the ink, lifting it from the inkwell and letting the excess drip before bringing it over to the paper.
When Yoongi makes no move to leave, you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and continue tracing. He’s content to watch you as you work. If he knows how distracted this makes you, he doesn’t let on. Perhaps he has no idea that as you scrawl a shaky letter ‘k’, it’s Yoongi who consumes your thoughts.
Even in your waking hours it seems you’re not rid of him.
Most of your study sessions are like this, Yoongi watching you so closely that it makes your quill bleed too much ink. He is a passive teacher, letting you come to him with questions instead of correcting you constantly like Taehyung does. Even now, when you hesitate on the next letter of the alphabet, Yoongi doesn’t offer his help. Lets you figure it out.
You dip the quill in ink and continue.
After you finish the last shaky letter, you set the quill down, flexing your fingers open and closed. Yoongi makes a satisfied noise and steps away. You turn to see him walking toward the table by the fireplace, which is where you have started to take all your meals. Already, there are platters of food and drinks. Taehyung sits in a chair, plucking a grape from a plate and popping it in his mouth.
“I didn’t invite you,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a seat at the head of the table. You push yourself up from your chair, legs aching from sitting so long. “Who said you can eat my grapes?”
“Ugh, I’m tired of eating alone.”
“Let him stay, Yoongi.” The god looks at you with a glower, bottom lip jutted out slightly. It’s so cute that you can’t help but burst into laughter, hand flying to your mouth. “Sorry, I think you just pouted.”
“He did.” Taehyung grins and leans back in his chair. “He wants you to himself.”
Yoongi hisses Taehyung’s name, shutting down the teasing immediately. You glance at Yoongi shyly as you sit down but he doesn’t meet your eyes, choosing to laden his plate with food instead. You can’t imagine why Yoongi would want you to himself, especially when all you do is ply him with questions.
Still, a little bit of a thrill goes through you as you start loading your plate, your gaze drifting toward the deity again as he bites into a strawberry, the juice running down his chin. Your eyes track the movement as his tongue darts out, catching the drip before it escapes too far.
Yoongi’s mouth is hypnotizing and it takes you a moment too long to realize he’s watching you stare at him. Quickly, you grab a cup and bring water to your lips, gulping the cool water and glancing up at the ceiling, feeling embarrassment bloom like warm liquid through you.
When you put the cup down, you swear you see Yoongi smiling.
-
Hungry lips suck at the tender flesh of your neck. You gasp, feeling your toes curl in pleasure, head spinning. Yoongi’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, the drag of his rough tongue soothing over the bites driving you mad. You let out a soft moan, eyes squeezing shut as you writhe under him.
Yoongi’s large hands pin yours above your head, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he continues to ravish your neck with his hot mouth, tongue and teeth. His hips roll over you and you whine, feeling his hard-on pressing against you.
Your parents would kill you if they knew you were here like this, trapped under a god of the dark as he sucks on your pulse point, mouth moving upward to nip your ear. Your chest is heaving and you can’t get enough breath, overwhelmed by the scent of cinnamon and clove, by the way his mouth pulls sounds from you so easily.
Yoongi tears his lips away and looks down at you, eyes so dark and blown out that you think he might devour you, swallow you whole in one bite -
“You’re dreaming of me again,” he whispers. “I don’t know if you mean to be dreaming of me, like this.”
You startle, realizing this isn’t real, and the illusion fades.
-
Twilight skies stretch above you. It’s warm outside, but the night air is cool against your skin, making you shiver as you sit down, folding your legs criss-cross.
“Are you cold?” Yoongi asks, sitting down on the soft grass next to you. You shake your head, eyes fixed on the low table in front of you that's filled with platters of meats, cheeses and crackers. You eye a glass bottle of red liquid that you think is wine, mouth watering. “Are you sure?”
“Promise, the wind feels nice.”
He looks doubtful as he sits down next to you, a healthy amount of space between you.
Tonight, Yoongi has insisted on a late night snack outside under the stars. He seems eager, verging on giddy as he glances up at the sky before reaching for the bottle of red liquid and popping the cork.
After nearly two weeks in the House of Dreams, you’ve learned that this world is forever twilight, lit up by dreams. Here, day and night don’t exist in their truest forms. There are always millions of people and creatures dreaming at every moment of existence, not limiting Yoongi’s world and power to times of day and night.
The twilight is beautiful. You’ve grown accustomed to the purple tint to the world, the way that it gets just the barest bit darker outside during certain periods, as though even in a world where night and day don’t exist, there are still two separate halves of time.
Yoongi passes you a glass. You bring it to your nose and sniff, delighted at the scent of cherries and something else. It’s certainly wine, though you wait for him to pour himself a glass to sip any.
Earrings dangle in Yoongi’s ears tonight. Each lobe has a small, thin chain with a moon charm on the end that’s studded with sapphires, catching the moonlight as he sets down the bottle and sits back. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down again, leaving his full face in view as he looks at you and gives you a gummy grin that scatters your thoughts.
“Chaos is moving through the sky tonight,” Yoongi informs you, glancing upward. “When she does, she’s beautiful to see. She doesn’t do it that often, but she’s passing us by on her way to do whatever it is she does somewhere. I wanted you to see.”
He holds out his drink and you grip yours tight, raising your glass to clink with his like you’ve seen people do at the inn in your village. He turns away from you, bringing his wine to his lips to sip. You follow suit, tentatively tilting your glass.
Sweet cherries bloom on your tongue and you hum in delight. It isn’t just cherries you taste, though. There’s a lush sweetness too, edged with spice, filling your mouth with warmth. You look at Yoongi as you sip and see him watching with a closed-lipped smile, eyes searching your face.
“You like it?”
You nod and set the glass down. “It’s delicious.”
“You like sweet things.”
“And you like salty.” He raises a brow in question. “You’re always going for the salted meats at dinner. And you have salted pork right there,” you point to the meat and cheeseboards. “Do gods get dehydrated?”
“We do not. I didn’t realize you were paying so much attention.” You shrug, picking up your wine to take small sips again. “Anything else you’ve noticed?”
Everything, you want to say and don’t. You’ve noticed so many things about Yoongi, all of them coming to mind at once. But you don’t want to reveal just how much you’ve watched him over the last two weeks, paying far more attention than is proper.
You could tell Yoongi how you’ve noticed that he wears seven necklaces exactly, each with a different symbol charm on them that you think corresponds to the seven Eternals. You could tell him that he has the habit of closing his eyes and tilting his face upward, like he’s absorbing moonlight. You know all of his favorite breakfast items, specifically crispy bacon and sugared strawberries.
And there are other things you could tell him, like in your dreams his lips are soft as sin, his voice low and sultry. You could admit that most nights you feel his grip on your waist and that when you study his hands during your lessons, you can’t help but already know the shape of them.
Perhaps two weeks back in your village is exactly what you need to get the ridiculous fantasy of this eternal being from your head. You don’t think you could bear the shame of him knowing exactly what living in the in-between realm has done for your imagination in a very unexpected way.
“You like bacon,” you offer as an answer. “And sugared strawberries. In the evening, whiskey is your favorite. It smells a little bit like honey, but still spicy. And you must work in the dream tower often at night, because the door to the tower smells like clove and cinnamon and you always smell that way.”
Yoongi’s brows shoot up. You hide your expression with your glass of wine, taking a long draught. It hums in your veins, warm and rushing like nothing you’ve ever felt before. When you lower the glass, Yoongi watches you with an intense expression. You meet his gaze, suddenly unable to look away.
The air feels charged as you stare. His eyes dip down to your mouth a single time, then back up to your eyes. The breeze moves strands of his hair and you smell the hint of clove followed by cinnamon, just as you always do when he’s near. Your heart starts to staccato as the silence presses on.
A little shriek cuts through the tension like a knife. You flinch and turn around, looking at a red blur of movement burst from the wisteria trees. Tiera lands with a squawk, the fey dragon huffing as grey smoke curls from her lungs. She ignores you entirely as she normally does and skips over to where Yoongi is sitting before she settles next to him, curling like a cat and laying on her tail.
Yoongi laughs. “Hello, Tiera.” The dragon chuffs and lets out another puff of smoke. “Are you not going to say hello to our friend?”
When the dragon pays no attention to you, you roll your eyes. “She hates me.”
“Dragons are capricious. She’s been with me for over a hundred years.”
“Not very mature then, is she?”
He chuckles again as you pluck cheese from the platter and pop it into your mouth. You’re delighted to find it’s soft and garlicky with a hint of rosemary as well. “She is still a child in dragon years.”
“And you let her be a glutton.”
“You could be too.” Your chewing slows and you swallow the cheese hard. You wait to see if he’s teasing you, but Yoongi watches you with a placid expression. “Dreams and desires are intertwined, you know. Desires come from dreams. It is in my nature to be indulgent.”
“I’ve never really been indulgent in my life.”
“Do you want to be?”
“What?”
His mouth twitches. “Indulgent.”
“I think this is indulgent,” you gesture to the food. “And you’re teaching me to read and write. That is more indulgence than I could ever dream of.”
He hums and it sounds like disapproval. “I think your dreams are far more indulgent than that.”
He knows. You think he’s going to say something, to ask about the way you dream of him. Instead, he says, “When you return, we’ll work on your indulgence. There is no shame in wanting things, you know?”
“I don’t know. How could I?”
Light flashes above your head. You break eye contact with him to look up and gasp. The sky is full of shooting stars, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The world lights up as you see rainbows streaking across the sky, bursts of colors and explosions of brilliance shooting through the sky.
Your mouth hangs open as you watch, mystified into silence. You’re sure this is what Yoongi meant when he said Chaos was passing by, for the sky becomes a cacophony of color and stars and light. You blink your eyes, stunned by the display. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, your heart hammering with excitement as you watch it, legs crossed, head tilted up.
The stars begin to slow and there are less bursts of color, until finally, there is just a shimmering wake of stardust and pink simmering in the sky. You look at Yoongi, utterly speechless, to find him looking at you. His eyes reflect the night sky, full of constellations and stardust, glittering in the dark depths of his irises.
Yoongi’s eyes are as wonderful as the display above, but you don’t say that.
“That was beautiful,” you breathe. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes don’t leave you when he hums softly in agreement. “It was.”
Tiera shuffles next to Yoongi, drawing your attention. She snakes her long neck out, tongue tasting the air as she eyes the meat on the table. Yoongi hisses at her and taps her nose in chastisement, earning an angry croak as the dragon shuffles back to her napping position.
The rest of your evening is spent snacking in companionable silence. Yoongi doesn’t talk much unless he’s answering your hundreds of questions, but tonight, you have none. You’re comfortable to just look at the world around you, the wisteria branches dancing in the breeze.
In the distance, you hear thunder. Your eyes follow the sound to the same dark peak with lightning crackling through the mist. You’ve yet to ask Yoongi about that peak in particular, but you think you know what looms there. You remember Yoongi talking about how there are nightmares in this realm too, and you’re not eager to ask what that thunderous mountain holds.
Yoongi doesn’t divulge, either. He watches you as you regard the peak and says nothing. Perhaps even the Eternal of dreams is hesitant to speak of that place, which is a good enough reason for you not to press him further on it.
When your stomach is full and you’ve had another glass of wine, you lay back in the grass. Your limbs feel heavy with drink and your world is tilted on a slow-rotating axis. The buzz in your veins feels pleasant, though your thoughts are a little sticky like honey and they run together, untamed.
Careful to keep his distance, Yoongi lays back in the grass with you. His face looks up at the sky, but you look at him. His features are so delicate and soft, nose and cheeks so round. His face don’t make sense in your head, so severe and terrifying yet gentle and innocent at the same time.
“You’re staring,” he says eventually.
“I’m indulging,” you tease back, loosened up by wine. “You said I can indulge, so let me stare.”
“What is there to indulge in?”
“Your… earrings.”
That makes him look at you, a brow quirked. “My earrings.”
“Yes. Very shiny. Very dangly.”
“Shiny and dangly?”
“Is there an echo out here?” you demand, frowning at him. “Yes, I am indulging in your jewelry!”
“Would you like some earrings?”
“My ears aren’t pierced.”
“Well then we’ll pierce them.”
“Well,” you grump. “Don’t you have the answer for everything?”
He smiles then, that rare gummy smile that makes you shut right up. “I told you. I’m indulgent. Anything you want, all you need is to ask.”
Rolling your eyes, you bite your lip to hide your smile at his words. It is insane to you that this ancient being is laying in the grass next to you telling you to only ask what you want. You don’t know what you want, but you do know that this feels like a dream. That you’re not really here, and that you’re going to wake up tomorrow and be in your bed at home.
Dread fills you at the thought of going back to your parents. In a way, you want to see them. They’re your parents and there is… unfamiliarity without the sound of your mothers needle stitching through cloth. You could do without your father entirely. The rage inside of you when you picture his face is difficult to quell and is often followed by terror.
Yoongi has told you that you will be safe when you return. You believe him. There is no reason not to. But more than anything, you’re terrified about what comes next. Living between two worlds is something you remember dreaming about that one day in the forest, looking at the way the world was reflected back on the mirror-calm surface of the water.
Now that you have access to two worlds, you don’t know what to do with the other that has brought you nothing but suffering. And yet, you still want to see what is there. You’re not ready to leave it entirely without knowing.
“Are you afraid to go back?”
Yoongi’s question is soft. You don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.”
“You won’t be alone. All you have to do is dream of me, and I will come.”
You hesitate then ask, “Do you know any time someone dreams of you?”
“It’s like hearing someone call my name, but I never answer. My business is in creating dreams, not invading them. People like you are able to spin up dreams on your own without my assistance. I help those who cannot.”
“That sounds like a lovely job.”
He hums. “It’s not without its stresses. I talk a lot about the nature of dreams, but there is more to me and to my job than that. Perhaps we will leave that for your next visit, yes?”
You nod. “Okay.”
“Come on,” Yoongi sighs, heaving himself upward. “It is late and in the morning, you must return.”
-
“Touch me,” you beg him, straddling Yoongi’s lap. His head rests against the back of the couch and he looks up at you as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s softer than you imagined, sliding like silk between your fingers. “You told me to ask for what I wanted. Touch me.”
“Anything,” Yoongi agrees. His hands skim up your thighs, warm and rough. He squeezes your flesh, making you moan as his hands continue their worship. Yoongi grips your hips tightly, kneading your flesh as he pulls you closer to him. “Anything. Everything. For you.”
-
When you wake up, you’re confused. The roof above your head is wood and thatch. The mattress beneath you is thin and lumpy, sweat sticking the sheets to your legs. Rolling over, your vision blurs until it comes into focus once more, revealing a tiny room with just a bed, a wardrobe and a closed door.
Your room. Well, your room in your parents’ house, you realize with a panic.
You shoot up in bed as terror claws at you. Did you dream it all? Was it not real? Nothing in your room has changed and the windows are open to the cool air. Grey clouds drift in the sky and you can smell the petrichor of oncoming rain in the distance.
Rushing to your bedroom door, you rip it open, your heart threatening to burst with how hard it’s beating. You don’t know what you’re looking for or what you expect to find, but the idea that you have just woken up from the most vivid, wonderful dream is so maddening that you need anything to tell you it was real. That it wasn’t in your head.
Your mother is sitting at the kitchen table stitching. She looks up when she hears you. She looks different, leaner and narrower than you ever remember, her greasy hair tied low at her neck. Her hands pause their stitching as she stares at you, stricken.
“What day is it?” you ask her. The day you had been attacked had been a seventh day. You remember that clearly. “Tell me what day it is!”
Instead, your mother screams in sheer terror.
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#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#suga fanfic#suga bts#yoongi series#suga smut#bts fanfic#bts smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#minors dni#minors do not interact
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Promises To Keep
A/N: Day 4 of valentines week!
Warnings: none
***
“I- umm,” Jo’s voice quivered. “I’m p-pregnant?”
Matty looked down at the 4 pregnancy tests, all clearly indicating, either in “+” or lines, or big bold letters “PREGNANT.” He grabbed one of the opened boxed, scanning over the fine print. “Mhm. Y-you’re definitely pregnant. It would seem.”
He looked up at her from the bathroom floor, as she sat, wide-eyed on the side of the bathtub, staring down at the mess of tests at her feet. Matty was, of course, overjoyed. This was the best news of his entire life. He’s always wanted to be a father. And the fact that it had happened without them planning it or trying? He’s not one for religion but he was certain that’s what he would call a blessing, if ever such a thing existed. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops. until he could determine Jo’s feelings on the matter, though, he was trying to remain calm. And it was killing him. He wanted to hoist her into his arms and hold her tight. He wanted to kiss her from head to toes. He wants to cry. But he had to stay focused and supportive.
“I- am gonna be a mom? Like- a mother?”
“Mhm.”
“L-life is…g-growing? Inside me? I- have a womb and shit?”
Matty frowned. “Pretty sure you’ve always had a womb- that’s not the point,okay.” He corrected himself. “Well, erm….life doesn’t begin at conception, Jo.”
Her eyes met his for the first time since the tests turned positive. “Right.” She mumbled. “It’s not a baby. It’s just cells.”
Matty’s heart sank. But he couldn’t argue with facts. “Just cells.” He echoed.
Jo’s hand absently moved to rest on her nonexistent bump. Matty’s hand itched to rest atop hers, but he held back. He watched her look into the distance as she pictured her future. 9 months from today. A child changes everything. Her life. Her body. Her career. Not to mention, her relationship. She was under no illusions when it came to parenthood. She’d watched enough of her friends go through the process to know about the sleepless nights, and the breastfeeding problems and the ever-present smell of poopy diapers in the house no matter how much cleaning one does. She was young. Her career had just taken off. She has just started to get a sense of who he is as an adult….and yet….
The notion of having a baby, one that is half her and half Matty, felt bigger, better, more right than anything else that she had planned or foreseen for herself in the future. The idea that the two of them could love each other so much to the point of making a whole third person out of this love was the perfect next step for their relationship.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes; a smile danced on her lips. “Well, we’ve both always said we want to be parents…”
Matty’s eyes lit up at her words. “Yes! We have!” He said, half standing up.
“I mean- nobody’s getting any younger- I make good money-“
“I’m rich, Jo. In case you haven’t-“
“And I work in design I can do that from anywhere-“
“I don’t have to work at all!” Matty yelled out, as if announcing the fact to a room full of people.
“You, do, in fact, have to work. You leave for tour tonight.”
Matty got up to sit beside her on the edge of the bathtub. “Right. If this child decides to ignore school and start a band….they’re going to live in our house for a long time. We’ll need a bigger house.”
Jo giggled at the image that his words had painted.
“Speaking of house….i can’t go tonight. You’re pregnant.”
“Don’t be stupid! You can go. You have to go.”
“And leave my pregnant- not wife.” He chuckled. “Funny, I- always thought: rock band, husband, then kids. Guess not everything happens in the order you want it to happen.”
Jo nodded. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I…always thought I’d feel like an adult by the time that I got pregnant. You know, sort of in the way that moms do?”
“Mhm.”
“Moms always….know everything. Like what to wear to things and what to do if a scab won’t heal, and how to make the perfect roast potatoes.”
“Roast potatoes?” Matty frowned. “You make a good roast, Jo-“
“Yeah but I can never get them quite right. You know, crispy and golden on the outside but tender and fluffy on the inside?”
He nodded along, recognizing what she meant, “sure. Yeah.”
“Our child is gonna grow up eating subpar potatoes, Matty.”
Matty held his head in his hands, letting her words fly by. Their child was going to be subjected to a lifetime of imperfect potatoes. A lifetime. With a child. They’re having a child. He’s gonna be a dad! He’s having Jo’s baby!
“Hey, Jo?” He called out, his voice echoing through the porcelain tub.
“Yes, Matty?”
He picked his head up and looked at her, flashing her a huge, shimmering grin. “We’re having a baby!”
The joy that lit up his eyes was impossible to ignore. Jo’s smile softened. “We’re having a baby….”
***
“I don’t know….should we?”
Jo overheard Matty ask as he paced his home studio with the door only halfway closed.
“I reckon we could postpone at least….”
She peered in. He was on FaceTime with George.
“Maybe we discuss this with….everyone, including Jamie, in the room. That way we’ll have a better idea.” George suggested. “Do they all know already?”
“Ross does. Hann didn’t answer so I left him a vague and cryptic message.” Matty paused the back and forth, finally settling in his desk chair. “Fuck! I’ve got to call mom! And dad!”
Those words were Jo’s last straw. She rushed into the room, snatching the phone out of his hand. “You will do no such thing!” She looked down at George through the screen. “Hey, George.”
“Hey, mate. Congrats on the baby!”
She was surprised by the new rush of excitement that hearing his congratulations had brought her. It was the first outside acknowledge of her motherhood. “Thank you!” She squealed, then, glancing at Matty, recalled the reason she’d barreled in here. “We’re not telling your parents. I can’t fuckin believe you’ve told the boys already!” She sighed. “Sorry, George.”
“No worries. I kinda can’t believe it either, if I’m honest.”
Matty frowned, leaning forward “why not?!”
“You’re meant to wait! Until after the first trimester!”
“Yeah, I know that, but why?”
Jo had began to speak, but George unknowingly cut her off
“Well- it’s usually when the risk of miscarriage is lower stuff…” he said matter-of-factly, recovering a weird look from Matty through the camera. “What? We went over this with Adam and Carly. Don’t you remember? You never pay attention to anything….”
Jo smiled, sitting in Matty’s lap so that they’re both in the FaceTime camera frame. “Sorry to interrupt your call but I think Matty and I need to have a little chat before….whatever this is goes any further.”
George nodded. “Understood. Hey, Matty, listen….in terms of the band stuff…whatever you decide to do is fine, honestly. Just let us know what you need. If you don’t wanna tour, we’ll sort it out.” Matty nodded, and waved goodbye, a silent cue that he was hanging up.
“What’s this I hear about you not wanting to tour?” Joe spoke as soon as she was certain that Matty had put his phone away.
“Jo, you’re pregnant!”
“I’m aware.”
Matty rolled his eyes. “I can’t just- get on a plane and fuck off to another country. New city every other day. No idea when I’ll be home again.”
He watched her face scrunch into a puzzled expression.
“Why not?”
His jaw dropped, shaking his head in disbelief. “Im not gonna miss all the doctors appointments and the- morning sickness and the- everything!
Jo was touched by his determination, not that she ever doubted that he would be anything less than all in. Still; seeing it written all over his face was overwhelming. “Matty-“
“No! He stomped his foot as he spoke. “I’m going to be a dad, now. I’ve got to- to rearrange my priorities. I’m not going to just leave you. No way. Alright?”
“Honey, don’t you think it’s a bit too early to be make decisions like this?” Her eyes looked into his, so Matty didn’t notice when she reached for his hand, he flinched, initially, relaxing to her touch slowly.
He took a deep breath, attempting to slow down his racing heart. “I- I would just- like to know what my options are. If…canceling tour is possible, or if, pushing it back a few weeks might be an alternative. I think….the sooner that I have all the information, the better for baby.”
“For- b-baby?” Jo’s lips involuntarily curled into a smile as she repeated his words.
“Mhm. Baby. As in….our child. Sophia if it’s a girl. Aiden if it’s a boy.”
Jo chuckled, heartily. “Sophia? Aiden? What the fuck, Matty?! We’ve only known about… ‘baby’ for like a few hours. You’ve already named it?”
“Jo, I’ve been naming our children since our first date.”
She rolled her eyes. “That kind of talk doesn’t work on me. I know all of your tricks.”
“And I still knocked you up! Ha! I win!”
Jo ran her hand through his hair. “Seriously, though, Matty. We are not naming our child ‘Aiden.’”
He looked at her with big sad eyes, “No Aiden? You don’t like it?”
“I hate it.”
Matty ducked his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Fine. His name isn’t Aiden. No weird, artsy French names, though, okay?”
“Really?” She pouted, “but I’ve always dreamed of naming my baby boy Jacques.”
“No, you haven’t” Matty saw through her lie instantly.
She laughed, silently, her body shaking with his arms wrapped around her.
“See, Jo? I know all of your tricks, too.”
***
Jo’s arm felt around in the dark attempting to wrap her arms around her sleeping boyfriend. Instead, she was met with the cold bedding where Matty normally slept.
Half asleep, she turned the bedside light on and saw that matty wasn’t in bed.
Instead, she found him downstairs, in the middle of the hallway, standing on top of a ladder, with a screwdriver in his hand.
“Jesus fuckin Christ, Matty, it’s 2 in the morning!” Her eyes squinted, adjusting to the light.
“Oh” he spared her a quick glance, “hey, Jo.”
“‘Hey, Jo’ ? Really? Matty what on earth are you doing up there!”
“Smoke detectors.” He mumbled “first step of baby-proofing is smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.”
Jo exhaled, it was too late into the night for this conversation and she was tired. “And you’re…doing what exactly?”
“Checking to see if we have that.”
“Matty, this house is worth millions of dollars, I’m sure it’s got the right kind of smoke detectors.”
Matty shrugged, screwing the tip of the screwdriver into the nail. “I don’t know that for certain. I never thought about a child living here when I signed the stuff that got installed in here. I’m sure I thought ‘I’m never in here long enough to be poisoned by carbon monoxide anyway.’ So….”
“My love? Listen-“
“Think I’m gonna have to cancel tour.” He announced. “Postponing my flight isn’t enough. There’s no way I’m going to be finished baby-proofing before rehearasals week is over.”
Jo grabbed a hold of Matty’s leg, tugging on his joggers. “Matty- that’s it - that’s enough. Get down here. You’ve gone over to the crazy side. I need you to step down from there and come talk to me. Please.”
***
Jo brought over two mugs of chamomile tea, handling one to Matty before taking a seat next to him. “Drink it. It’ll help.”
“Thanks, darlin.” He kissed her.
She watched him blow on his drink for a moment, and take his first sip. “Matty, what’s going on with you? Why aren’t we both in bed right now?”
He looked down at his reflection in the tea, avoiding her eyes. “Just couldn’t sleep. So I figured I’d get started on some things. It’s a big deal, Jo.”
“Matty, you don’t have to do it all overnight, you get that, right? The baby isn’t even a baby right now. It’s a tiny cluster of cells! It takes 9 months for it to grow.”
“And I’d be gone for 9 months!” Matty raised his voice for the first time since Jo has met him. “Tour is 18 months at a time. So that’s enough time for a while fuckin human being to be made, and to almost turn a year old! If I can’t leave you knowing that you’re safe and prepared, then im not fuckin leaving! It’s not that hard to understand.”
She set her beverage down, placing her hands on his shoulders instead.
“You know I called some accountants today?”
“Oh?”
“To see about….a will.”
“Jesus fuckin- that’s morbid, Matty!”
“What? I’m just….being practical. If anything should happen to me. I- I want my kid — and you— to be all sorted….anyway, they- they said things would be a lot easier if we had a marriage certificate or whatever.”
Jo withdrew her hands, frowning. “I swear to god, Matthew, if this is your way or fuckin proposing-“
Matty giggled. “No, no! Cmon! I’m insane but I’m not THAT insane. I wouldn’t just…do it like that. I’m just saying….i do wish that our child could’ve been born into a marriage. You know?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It- doesn’t. Not really. Just- would feel more certain.”
She smiled, finally understanding. “I forget that you’re actually a tightly wound ball of anxiety sometimes.”
Matty chuckled.
“Very well, then. Let’s do it.”
“Do what?” He turned around to look at her.
“Get married. Right now. Let’s do it.”
“Right now? Jo- it’s the middle of the night, darling.”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “But we can still do it. Between us! The paperwork and the marriage liscence and all that is just legal bureaucracy. You’re rich. Your parents are rich. Baby will be fine with that stuff. So, that stuff aside….what is marriage if not a set of promises that we promise to keep together?”
Matty’s lips parted, but he had nothing to say. He remained speechless, eyes glued to her face.
“So, let’s make each other promises right now. You and me….and the baby. Let’s get married.”
“R-really?”
Jo giggled. “Yeah, if…if saying a promise will make it feel more certain, more forever….if it’ll get you to shut up and go to bed, then why not?”
Matty smiled, wide. “Okay, let’s fuckin do it! Baby and wedding in one day. I’m really doing it all, huh?”
***
She held his hands in hers, their fingers intertwined. “Who’s gonna go first?” She asked.
“Oh! I’ve got one!” Matty said, “I- promise….to learn how to check smoke detectors cuz….if I’m being honest I…had no idea what I was doing up there. I was just gonna crack it open and see if there was a YouTube tutorial that would explain it to me.”
Jo laughed, dramatically. Her head landing in Matty’ lap for a moment.
“Okay….umm…I promise to love you, even when you’re doing insane shit like looking up tutorials of essential safety measures at 3 in the morning.”
Matty brought her hand to his lips, kissing it. “I promise to talk to you first. Before I go off cracking open smoke detectors. I know- I know I tend to- go a bit insane without really saying anything. But we can’t have that. I’ll- be better about it. Promise.”
“I promise to give you grace and be more patient when you inevitably lose it again and start acting like a lunatic. I know you do it out of love. And it’s cute. So, I should just…go easier on you”
“It’s cute, you say?” Matty wriggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, stop that. You’ve already got me pregnant. You know I think you’re cute.”
Matty was surprised to feel himself blush. He laughed, softly, his head thrown back. Then, he straightened his back, looking serious all of the sudden. “I promise to teach our child how to love you right by setting an example for them every single day.”
“I promise to love you second most. Right after our child, of course.”
“I….find that a fair arrangement. May I kiss the bride now?”
Jo beamed at him. “Fuck yeah, you may.”
“I love you, Josephine.”
“I love you, too, Matthew.”
#valentine75#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy imagine#matty healy fanfic#matty healy fluff#matty healy x oc
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I'm not a big disney fan outside of childhood nostalgia but every time I see one of those prince rankings I'm like ok but I could rank them better. and I happened to be bored so I did
some mentions I have to make so people don't wonder:
flynn rider: basic choice. scientifically engineered to be a hot man. no bite or edge to him. if you look at concept art he was supposed to be a big guy but they changed him to this market researched douche with a soul patch. absolute travesty
aladdin: he’s cute and good-hearted, lies to get his way but learns to be true to himself. lessons we all learn in life. next
jim: has the best song. i too want the moment to be real
phoebus: mmm. ehh
prince charming: literally what it says on the tin. storybook prince. not a man, a plot device
cinderella's prince: has a thing for feet. nice. funny in the sequels but a cardboard box is more interesting than his design
and now the top 10:
10. hercules: hunky demigod himbo. true hero is tested by the strength of his heart. the lesson all gym bros need to learn.
9. quasimodo: has heart and character, and sang “out there” like an angel.
8. prince eric: spends all his days with his dog and playing the recorder. who let him out of containment. too nervous to kiss a girl he likes even though she is sending obvious signals. he wants to get the know her better. king
7. tarzan: loin-clothed hunk with the facial structure of a statue. roams the jungle to the tunes of phil collins. loves his mom without being weird about it. prime man
6. the beast: eye and soul candy for the monsterfuckers. hot take but he wasn’t that bad as a human. he was hot. especially when you consider that his backstory included him being so snobby and vain that he was turned into the beast. like isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy. love to see it
5. milo: linguist. has round glasses and that 90s curtain haircut. all features that can indicate sleeziness but he is a good guy, meaning sometimes a man with round glasses and 90s curtain haircut can be trusted. a lanky charming nerd and therefore my exact type unfortunately
4. kenai: excellent protagonist. so deep in the throes of toxic masculinity he gets turned into a bear. isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy
3. shang li: bisexual king. nothing more to add.
2. prince naveen: now I may come from a protestant culture but a lazy jackass learning the value of hard work and love is what it’s all about. a dish. gets turned into a frog, isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty bo-
1. robin hood: “he's a fox hahah furry" FUCK YOU. HE IS THE FINEST MAN OUT THERE. HE HANGS OUT WITH HIS BEST FRIEND IN THE WOODS. HE HAS BEEN TRUE TO HIS SWEETHEART SINCE CHILDHOOD. he thinks he’s not good enough for her, but in a chivalrous way instead of pathetic. steals from the rich and gives to the poor. great with kids. they don’t make men like this anymore, and with that I mean men of integrity. “MARIAN MY DARLING I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.” (CRIES)(THROUGH TEARS) LOVE IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY YOU WERE JUST A CHILD AT PLAY
#nor's rambles#does not include commentary on why disney turns all their poc protagonists into animals. saving that for some other time#i love to see a man learn a lesson
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9 R.I.P. coming west in 2024
From Gematsu
Idea Factory International will release otome visual novel 9 R.I.P. for Switch in the west in 2024, the company announced. It will be available both physically and digitally. Standard and limited editions are available to wishlist now at IFI’s Online Store.
Here is an overview of the game, via Idea Factory International:
About
Struggling with the burdens of life and questions about the future, you crave an escape. You’ve heard about prowling ghosts and people disappearing to places mysterious, strange, and maybe even a little scary. That’s when fate offers you a hand. Will you take the chance and step into the unknown?
Story
In this town, there is a long-standing rumor about people being spirited away… They also say that people with lots of anxiety or those who are struggling are more likely to get spirited away. You think you’ll be okay…?
In the beginning of autumn, during her second year of high school, that’s what Misa Isshiki, was told by her best friend, causing her heart to skip a beat.
I’ll be fine, I don’t really believe in any of that stuff anyway.
That’s right… She doesn’t believe in that kind of thing… It’s just… Her life had been filled with so much stress, all related to what her future would hold…
That’s when an eerie voice reached out to her…
Why don’t we take a look and see what you should do with your life! Let’s put you on the right path…
And that’s when all the strange things around Misa began to happen…
Key Features
Over Our Dead Bodies – School Ghost Stories, Urban Legends, the Other Realm, and the Spirit World. Get spirited away to an alternate reality or uncover tragic and thrilling truths in the real world, offering a unique mix of horror and romance with 8 romance options to explore.
Nightmare on Otome Street – For those wanting something a little spookier in their Otome, the School Ghost Stories route sees you trapped in a school where you hear whispers of gruesome murders having occurred. The presence of ghosts won’t make this any easier. Can you survive, and maybe even find romance in the face of horror?
Insane in the Membrane – Being in a realm filled with ghosts and evil spirits will have an effect on you. Throughout the game, your choices will impact not only your affection with the characters you meet with the Love Catch system, but your psyche as well. Making the wrong choices can lead to insanity and even change you into something else entirely.
Drop Dead Gorgeous – Witness rich environments and alluring characters designs. Beloved character artist from Cupid Parasite, Yuuya, stuns again with gorgeous visuals.
Watch the announcement trailer below. View a set of screenshots at the gallery. Visit the official website here.
Western Announce Trailer
youtube
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Tales From the Modern Incubus Part 10
Summary: You meet your real mother by accident and that has you going back to Harry earlier than you planned because you need information. But what's happening behind the scenes has Harry very concerned. There's more going on here than meets the eye.
A/n: Four new characters this chapter!! We meet Y/n's real mother and father as well as two more powerful beings who are in cahoots with them. Remember, when you see their names introduced the first time it will link to my TFMI Characters List so you can see their face claim and read a little about their angel/demon type. There's a lot going on in this one so pay close attention. Remember, this is demon/incubus!Harry so there may be some triggering topics. Please read all warnings in the TFMI masterlist before continuing. 6.8k words
Warning: Some angst, smut if you squint (barely so no * for this part), references to demons and angels, and God, etc.
Chapter 9
Chapter 10*
Asmodeus wasn’t concerned about you. In fact, he hadn’t checked in on you in some years. He didn’t need to. Hannah kept tabs on you and she would occasionally send updates to him. But you were falling in line just as they’d planned, the perfect creation, their daughter. You were a decent young woman who’d not yet given yourself over to a suitor. The plan was risky, not foolproof, but intentional and carefully designed. To let The Almighty in on their pact would be detrimental to the ultimate long-game plan.
See, The Almighty never worried himself much with the goings-on of his flock. Hannah was a subservient and obedient, if not extremely powerful Archangel. He trusted her completely. He also just really didn’t care too much when it came down to it. He was busy securing his own comforts and interests and things were in balance so his own power and realm were safe and not in danger of being overthrown. And so while he was quite out-of-touch and indifferent about what happened with his angels and demons, there were some that were plotting. Hannah intended to stay on his good side. The closer to the enemy you are, the less you’ll be suspected. And it worked so far. For 23 years your father, Asmodeus and mother, Hannah were able to keep this secret from everyone. Except Michael and Lilith. The Archangel Michael of heaven, and Lilith, the supreme empress of Hell. They had bore a son who was also walking the earth, adopted by human parents. Michael and Lilith were of the highest order of archangel and demon, which was why they insisted on their child being the male. He would be the most powerful celestial hybrid and would also have a great working knowledge of humankind by the time he was meant to meet you and get you pregnant, eventually bringing into existence a being so powerful that not even The Almighty could conquer.
Lilith was the one who noticed it first. How your powers were already coming about before you were meant to realize them. You were playing with them. You were stopping time, changing weather patterns, and were able to see into the minds and hearts of just about anyone you would encounter. She found that you were developing too quickly and this could endanger their precise and specific plans of overthrowing the kingdoms.
Lilith was a bit of a Nosy-Nancy in general, so it wasn’t a surprise when Asmodeus was confronted by Lilith about his daughter and that she knew about this before he even did.
“Something is happening with Y/n and you should find out why her powers are already becoming apparent. Someone has been messing with our plan. Someone has found out about her and they are getting in too close, I fear.”
Asmodeus rolled his eyes at Lilith. Nosy yes, but she was also very dramatic, “Are you sure, Lil? I don’t know how it would be possible. But I’ll reach out to Hannah to find out. Hannah keeps up with her regularly.”
“You men are so fucking lazy. You can’t go do it yourself? Not that I don’t trust our sweet archangel to give us the truth about what’s happening but if you want something done right you have to do it yourself, Mo.” She pointed. And he hated that nick name. Mo. But he was doomed to hear it for all eternity. The name Asmodeus was a mouthful and even though he was a prince of hell, Lilith was still the supreme empress, his superior and she could get away with it he supposed.
“I’ll take care of it.” He spoke as he turned to call Hannah. No way in hell he was making an appearance on Earth right now. He was tired and doubted that Lilith had it right. Plus, Hannah enjoyed checking in on you. She was a powerful warrior but she was very nurturing and you were the apple of her eye.
“Hello, Mo.” Hannah’s voice spoke into the receiver. She’d been in the middle of something when she saw the call from Mo. She hadn’t heard from him in a long time. Not of his own volition. Normally, she reached out to him with updates about you. He never cared all that much.
“Good evening, Hannah. Lilith told me that she feels Y/n is coming into her power already and if that’s true, it means someone is meddling. Can you look into it and report back?”
Hannah paused. Really? She’d seen you just two weeks prior and nothing seemed amiss. You had some natural abilities that went beyond what most humans could be gifted but it was never a concern. If you were somehow now displaying something more then yes, it would need to be checked on, but Hannah doubted Lilith was correct. Lilith could be dramatic after all.
“I doubt it. I saw her not two weeks ago and she was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I should go and check. And if I find something, anything at all, Mo, I’ll need you to be with me. Do you understand? If our girl is coming into her power prematurely then we need to work together to fix this before anyone else catches wind. Do you hear me?” She knew Asmodeus took a back seat to the care for their only offspring. He and Hannah had only come together for this one purpose. They weren’t lovers, nor were they really friends. Their coupling was one of strategy and nothing more.
“I hear you, Hannah.” He did not intend to meet her if it wasn’t totally necessary.
The conference was awful. You hated every fucking second of it. Amanda was a bitch, Miguel wouldn’t smile at you, and Sarah didn’t go. Everyone else had a stick up their ass and you wondered why you were ever friends with Amanda in the first place. Every time you saw her she was with Miguel and every time you tried speaking to her she brushed you off and gave you some excuse as to why she couldn’t.
So when your mom, Gwyn, cornered you the evening following your outburst at Harry you knew what was coming. You hadn’t been to any of the activities or gatherings. You couldn’t. You could practically feel Harry and his pain and the way his heart ached when you yelled at him. He was more sensitive than you’d imagined and you were now only at this conference for appearances at this point.
Nothing meant the same as it once did. You had a sudden understanding of what you were and it was a difficult thing to lay out in front of you and make sense of in one go. You had to think and you needed to not be around Harry to do that. He was intoxicating and distracting and an ass.
“Y/n. Have you been okay, hon? Haven’t seen you all day. I haven’t seen Harry either, come to think of it.” She was truly concerned. She didn’t know this Harry guy, and he seemed nice enough, but that meant nothing to her. You were her baby and she wanted to protect you, especially when Harry was new and you’d broken up with Miguel and jumped into this thing with Harry. Your mom could recognize how much more attractive Harry was than Miguel, so she didn’t take it for more than just you realizing you could do better (looks-wise) than Miguel (sorry Miguel). She understood the appeal.
“I’m okay. I have a weird headache and, well, I got into an argument with Harry because he had something he needed to do and it made me mad so he’s not here, but I don’t know. Just not feeling my best.” You lied. You no longer cared that you were lying all the time now. Especially because you’d been lied to your entire life. The woman standing before you wasn’t your real mother and it baffled your mind as to why they hadn’t told you this. Plenty of kids were adopted and it was healthy to be honest and upfront about that kind of thing. It would have explained so much in your life growing up. But instead of confronting her about it, you’d just lie and appease until you could figure out what you’d really want to say to your parents when the time came.
Your mom seemed to buy your excuse and told you to take some Aleve and get some rest. She sweetly told you Harry would come around. You internally scoffed.
You walked the grounds to blow off some steam. Still, you were angry and felt out of sorts. You understood Harry, after some time and thinking on it, that his disposition of an incubus came with its own problems and limits (you did do some googling as well because all this knowledge wasn’t just inherent, though bits and pieces were). He was weak. He needed sex. But you didn’t like that he latched onto you and how his intentions with you were not from a good place. They were from a place of duty. Well, they were at first. And he was your first kiss! And he ate you out when you thought you were in a dream! Those were the thoughts that filled your mind. He lied to you and even if he had a good reason to lie – it was to his benefit. Not yours. You didn’t like it. You wanted him to suffer. At least for a while.
You determined that you’d go to him and put him out of his misery (in one way or another) on the fifth day. Checking your phone, you had text after text and call after call from him. It made you smile. He felt bad and you knew he’d work hard to make you forgive him, to make it up to you, to prove himself. But that meant you’d need to allow him to. And you felt somehow, protective over Harry now. It was a strange feeling. Before you’d felt so protected by him but then everything came crashing down and you saw how fragile he truly was. You were not fragile. You could feel your strength boiling out from underneath your limbs and you just didn’t know what to do with it all. You needed guidance and a teacher.
But he’d be made to wait and suffer for five full days. You knew he wouldn’t die in five days. Could feel it. He might think he was dying, and he’d grow weaker, but you would rescue him at the end. Unless he decided to have sex with someone else in the interim. And then he could just burn if that were the case.
Harry would disagree. He was dying. His need for fornication was subdued by your help but his heart was destroyed. He’d never felt a connection and a pull so strong for anyone and now that he knew why it only made it worse. His urge for you grew stronger and he hated that you’d seen him so vulnerable. He didn’t know what to expect from you at the end of these five days. Would you give yourself to him? He would wait for you no matter what. He’d rather vanish from existence than see your rage ever again. He didn’t want to do anything to betray you. Not again. But he had his doubts that you even felt the same way about him now that you’d seen him so weak.
He was in a rather pathetic state. He couldn’t deny that his attraction to you only grew stronger now that he knew who you were. The daughter of Asmodeus and Hannah. There had to be more to this. He didn’t know of course, but the joining on a Prince of Hell and an Archangel? What was the meaning here? Did Satan and Lucifer know? Did the empress Lilith know? The Almighty? Asmodeus was one of the most powerful demons in hell. He could potentially pull off this stunt without them knowing. But he felt there was something more going on. He wanted to seek out Danny, but that meant going into hell, and possibly having Danny tempt him with your form again. He wouldn’t put it past him. If Danny switched his form into yours and begged Harry to fuck him… he squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t. He’d need to be patient, but something was bubbling under the surface. Something was being plotted and five days away from you was going to be the death of him.
Sam had called him and offered to come over but Harry had to turn him down. Harry was not in the best state of mind. He was subdued but not dulled completely. So he resorted to masturbation instead. He stroked his cock until he came all over himself the night you sent him away and he fell asleep with his own spunk covering his chest, like a loser. He didn’t even bother getting up to clean himself he was so distraught.
Then when he woke in a cold sweat he masturbated again, squishing his balls and moaning your name, wishing you were with him. Hoping you could hear him. Praying to your name and begging you to come to him early. Your name was the only one he’d pray to. Was he really willing to put himself in harms way for you? Because that would happen. He would likely not fare well once your parents knew what was going on and if he kept it up and continued to pursue you, they’d surely find out and turn him to dust.
Now, as the evening falls and he’s sprawled on his couch watching a movie and pumping his cock with his head thrown back, he’s doing it again. Praying to you and staving off his cravings as well as he can. He feels like a smoker that’s gone a while without a cigarette and so he’s doing okay because the hardest part is over with but he still has that undercurrent craving, the one that never dies. The one that only perks up and spikes at your senses when you smell someone else light one up or get stressed. So you take a nicotine gum to soothe and it works, but it’s not the real thing. It never will be. His masturbation is like nicotine gum. It works but he needs it frequently. Whatever you did to him to help his ache was a life saver. He feels better but it’s certainly not sustainable. Hopefully by day five you’ll be willing to wrap your bare thighs around his hips and fuck him out of his despair.
Hannah watched you walking around at Holy Falls. She knew this place. You came here with your “parents” every year. She surveyed the area and there were no other beings to be seen. Not at first. She needed to be sure you weren’t being watched, that would be a dead giveaway. She noted your distress and how you were sad and angry. More than ever maybe. She didn’t want to get too close if you were indeed coming into your own. It would be possible for you to sense her. She used her own abilities to block her presence, but it didn’t work with very powerful beings, which you were intended to become.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Not yet, Hannah thought to herself. Though it was concerning the mental state you seemed to be in. Something had disturbed you. Something had you troubled.
Hannah went through the grounds, leaving you for a bit. She wanted to catch anyone or anything that was following you, if there was anything following you. Shadowing you. Hunting you. It was the firs order of things, to secure the surrounds.
When she came upon Tamie in the periphery, Tamie hadn’t expected Hannah’s presence and she startled with a yelp and attempted her escape.
Hannah laughed and froze Tamie and then circled her frame a few times.
“A watcher. Sam’s lackey. What have you found out about my daughter.” Hannah spoke calmly and softly.
Tamie was unable to move a muscle, except her mouth and tongue to speak.
“Fuck!” Tamie spoke out. Her eyes were stuck half open and she couldn’t turn her head to see who had caught her, but she knew it was Hannah. This was not supposed to happen. Tamie knew this was risky, especially now that you were presenting your powers, someone in heaven or hell would be tipped off sooner or later.
“Mmm… that wasn’t an answer. Tamie, is it? Yes, Tamie.” Hannah settled in front of Tamie so they could be face on and Hannah could look at Tamie directly. “Now, tell me. What have you found out about my daughter?”
Tamie tried to blink but of course, it didn’t work. Her eyes were quickly drying out and burned. She breathed out a quivering breath, “Not much. Um… we just knew she had some sort of power and we wanted to follow up on it, make sure she wasn’t missing from the system, you know… because all demons or angels should be accounted for.”
Hannah hummed and tilted her head, “Right. Of course. And how were aware that she had some sort of power. Who told you?”
Here is where it got tricky. Tamie didn’t want to out anyone and outing an incubus meant certain death for them. Incubus had very few tasks to undergo on earth. One was to have sex with mortals and another was to get a being pregnant to carry on the lineage every one hundred years. Either could get him killed or sent to purgatory and never be heard from again. If they knew an incubus had found her they’d know of his intentions. It was unlikely he’d be let off the hook even if he hadn’t technically defiled her.
“I don’t know. I only am tasked with watching her and reporting back to Sam. We are trying to determine what she is.” Tamie tried to close her eyes again and she felt herself wince when she realized Hannah could probably hear each and every one of her thoughts.
“You’re not telling me everything. Who is in love with Y/n? Someone wants her. Tell me their name.” Hannah was nearly nose to nose with Tamie now. Tamie was good. She wasn’t revealing much in her mind, she was a good watcher. Well trained.
Tamie could feel her heart pumping furiously and she willed her brain to think about anything else, she’d been trained for this. She thought about the reading of The Book of Lucifer. She quietly recited versus and even though her eyes were forced open and to look directly at Hannah, she went through verse after verse in her head, “Why should I not hate mine enemies―if I "love" them does that not place me at their mercy?”
Hannah scoffed and stood up straight. She was done waiting for answers from this watcher. She raised her arms to start a small gale which would force honesty and break Tamie’s will, when suddenly you were there watching the spectacle.
“What? Tamie? And who are you?” You neared the two women with curiosity. You recognized Tamie, who you were not happy to see. The woman had sex with your boyfriend. The other woman was different. A very different creature. Somehow very familiar.
She put her arms down and looked at you with shock on her face but then smiled and reached a hand toward you, “I’m Hannah. Tamie and I were just doing some, uh… business. You know her?”
“Yes. We’ve met once. What is happening here? Tamie why are you here?” You could see that Tamie seemed to be frozen or standing extremely still. You could almost hear Tamie’s thoughts. She was speaking in her mind and reciting something you didn’t quite understand. But a flicker of a thought cascaded to you, very brief, it could have been nothing, but it was there. Say nothing, before she went back to reciting whatever it was. You were confused. Say nothing?
Hanna was now standing in front of you and looking at you with a small smile. She gently put her hand onto yours and it nearly had you jolted backward. It was too much. The small gesture had you jerking your hand back and stepping away from her. It felt like electricity bolted through your veins and it wasn’t pleasant.
“Who are you?” You didn’t want her to touch you again and you tried listening to her like you had with Harry and just now with Tamie. You hadn’t quite gotten it down yet, how to accurately read and hear thoughts. Especially when there was more than one person at a time.
“I’m just a friend of Tamie’s. Only here to make sure she’s okay.” Hannah hadn’t expected you to find them. She shielded her presence and Tamie’s the moment she froze Tamie. You were certainly more powerful than you already should be. This was an issue. Anther issue was that she was having a difficult time knowing with you. She couldn’t quite filter out the things in your mind to form any conclusive answer or real thought. Tamie had to struggle to keep her thoughts active and jumbled but you didn’t even have to try. It was like you had a lock in your brain that was solid and wouldn’t allow for anyone to intrude. Not even your own mother. You were quite powerful, after all. She knew this going into the deal that you could possibly possess more powers than even she could. But already? They hadn’t even had a chance to teach you and train you. She needed to get Asmodeus up here and fast before you completely blocked them both, of your presence and your mind. They needed to be able to redirect you to follow their intended path. If they couldn’t track you easily this would be worse than she thought.
“Tamie and I were just leaving. We’ll be out of your hair.” Hannah watched you and clearly you weren’t buying any of her bullshit. Normally Hannah could easily convince someone about anything. But you weren’t buying any of it.
And you were frustrated by what was happening. You felt out of your element and now all of this? Why was Tamie here of all places? Why was Tamie reciting weird quotes in her mind and who was Hannah? She was someone important and she had something to do with the state of Tamie.
You knew things were happening in you. You believed Harry when he told you about your real mother and father, and strangely, it wasn’t a surprise to you when he told you. But you still needed answers. About whom you were, about what you could do. About what was the fuck was going on.
“No. Tell me who you are, Hannah. Why are you here and why have you frozen Tamie like this? Tamie is terrified. What have you done?”
Hannah was done talking. It was no use. She could not yet reveal to you her identity. She needed Asmodeus. She shook her head and blew a kiss to you and when she spread her arms you saw a great white shadow behind her and then in a blink of an eye, Tamie and Hannah were gone.
You could no longer wait for answers. As much as you wanted to make Harry wait five days to see you, he was someone you trusted (even if you were angry with him), and he was weak enough that he couldn’t block or jumble his thoughts from you anymore. He’d answer all your questions and maybe give you some clarity.
Hannah didn’t leave Earth’s realm. She needed to stay close and she kept Tamie to pull answers from her. Tamie would tire eventually and give in, telling them what they needed to know. In the meantime, she phoned Asmodeus.
“Hannah. What have you found?” Asmodeus was concerned. He wasn’t so worried that he felt he should join her but the more he thought about what Lilith had told him the more anxious he got in waiting for Hannah’s update.
“It’s bad, Mo. She’s very powerful right now. I have the watcher who had eyes on her and I’m going to get information about what they know. But she saw me. She spoke to me, Y/n did. And get this, her thoughts weren’t revealed to me and she was able to easily find me even though I’d hidden my presence. We need to act fast. If she can so easily block her thoughts then she can block her entire being. We will have to do stake outs which will be such a fucking waste of our time. She’s at this conference right now, at Holy Falls. I told you about it in the past. She goes every year. I need you.”
Asmodeus cringed. Rising to Earth’s realm was always such a cumbersome ordeal for him. But it sounded bad.
“Why aren’t you able to get information from the watcher right now? Maybe we’re jumping ahead of ourselves here, Hannah.”
“Fuck! Why are you so lazy? And I didn’t get the information from the watcher yet because Y/n stopped it when she found me. I was just about to. But I wanted to call you first so you could be on your way. Immediately. You need to be here. Waiting even one more day will put us behind. We have to redirect her and fast. She’s blocking me already, Mo. Which means she’s blocking you.”
Asmodeus shook his head and sighed, “Fine. I’ll be there with you as soon as physically possible.”
He finished his whiskey first. He would allow himself another thirty minutes.
You drove to Harry’s. You figured you could probably do something where you just appear to him, but you weren’t exactly sure of the logistics of that. Plus a drive would help you calm down a little, some music, the city lights at night, the freeway…
You parked along the circle driveway behind Harry’s SUV and looked around you. Now you felt you were always being watched. You knocked at Harry’s door.
Harry had been dozing off on his couch to a terrible movie on that he couldn’t pay attention to. When he heard the knock his gut bubbled with nerves. Who could be at his door at this hour?
He slowly made his way to the door and tried to ready his appearance. He looked like shit. He hadn’t cleaned himself, he smelled, his hair was every which way… but then it was you. It was your sent and he scurried faster to the large wooden door and unlatched the bolts and quickly pulled it open. You’d answered his prayers!
“Y/n! You’re here! Fuck! I missed you!” He tried to hug you but you titled your head back and pushed at his chest and then walked around him to get inside.
“Close your door. I think I’m being watched.” You said and you could smell Harry. You still really loved his scent but he needed to bathe quite badly. You scrunched your nose and looked around the living room.
Harry followed after you quickly, “What do you mean you’re being watched?” He knew there was a watcher on you at all times but it was possible you’d figured that out with your highly aware state now.
“I saw Tamie, but she was another woman. The woman had frozen Tamie in place. Her name was Hannah.” You looked at Harry and his eyes widened. He quickly covered your mouth but you pulled away. His hands were dirty too.
“Don’t say that name again! That is the name of your mother. You will summon her if you say her name. Can you block your presence or at least your thoughts? Do you know how to do this? Probably not… it’s all too soon. Fuck! I need to call on Aim. I’m gonna get killed. Fuck, fuck fuck!” Harry was keyed up and frantic.
“Stop!! Will you? Jesus! Just wait… Han… she is my mother? Her? She’s … I look nothing like her! What do you mean block my presence? Why?”
You and Harry sat down. There was a lot to cover. First and foremost he needed you to attempt a blocking spell so you couldn’t be found. He walked you through the steps and you followed easily with him. He couldn’t do it himself, but he knew it could be done and he knew you could do it.
Once that was out of the way he felt his breathing calm, “Okay. That bought us a little time. You have somehow alerted someone of your powers. I don’t know the details but I do know that things could be dangerous. Your mother and father are very powerful and their joining is a concern. It could point to a large issue in heaven or hell. Or both… we don’t know and it isn’t something I’m privy to. But we can’t be too careful.”
You nod and take it in. You have so many questions and you don’t know where to start.
“You said she has Tamie? Fuck!” Harry put his head into his hands and pulled at his roots with his fingers. With his head titled down he could smell himself. It wasn’t good. Neither the circumstance, nor his odor.
“Yes. Tamie was chanting some quotes or something I couldn’t understand exactly. And then Ha… my mother suddenly vanished with her. So, you think she’s trying to get information from Tamie, then?” You could tell that was what Harry was already thinking.
Harry nodded, his hands still in his hair, his face aimed at his lap, “This isn’t good. Mostly because we don’t know what their intentions are.” Then he looked up at you, “Were you able to listen to your mother’s thoughts?”
You shook you head. Harry’s light speckled, forest eyes on yours had you softening toward him almost immediately, despite his need for a shower. He was still the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen. Even in his current state. You could almost hear his words out loud, he was thinking the same thing you were. He found you captivating just as you found him, and he was feeling better already now that you were here.
You smiled at him, “I feel better too. I’m still pissed, though. You’re not off the hook. I only came to you early because I needed answers and I trust you.”
Harry smiled back at you, “You trust me? Still?” Harry was elated. You didn’t hate him. You were just mad. He could get past mad. As long as you still wanted to be around him, that could be overcome.
You sighed and nodded, “Sure. Since you can’t lie to me anymore I know you’re always telling me the truth.” You smirked at him, “Now, give me as much information as you can. Anything important for me to know. Starting with Tamie. Why was she there?”
Harry laid out as much as could for you. There was so much. You both decided it was best to keep together. Mostly so you could continue gaining knowledge from Harry and so you could keep him safe. You could stay hidden for now but it was only a matter of time before Tamie caved and you’d both need to find a different place to hide out, at least until you could figure out what was going on with your real parents and why they were kidnapping a watcher to get information.
“You need to wash, though, Harry. I’m not staying here if you don’t clean up.” You teased. Yes, you needed him to clean up but you wouldn’t leave to go anywhere else. Going back to Holy Falls was too risky. Your parents might send someone to find you. Your house was risky for the same reason. Harry’s house would become risky if Tamie spilled the beans.
Harry showered and put on clean clothes and then offered to make you food when he heard your stomach growl. You hadn’t eaten all day because you’d been so distraught with everything. But now that you were with Harry again you felt comforted and more at ease.
Harry continued telling you things when he’d remember something else he felt you should know. As he was explaining to you about your father’s physical appearance he was boiling noodles and you could feel his excitement. He was excited you were here and for more reasons than one. You laughed to yourself. The man was always horny. He tried explaining to you about his needs and he even apologized to you again about his misconduct and how he’d technically cheated on you but should be forgiven on default because of the way his kind is made. He gave you puppy dog eyes and you rolled yours.
You did like how he moved around his kitchen, tall and dreamy, and his voice was warming and attractive. Every time he’d look at you from over his shoulder or he’d smirk at you with those stupid pink lips you couldn’t help but slowly let the feelings of your own anger dissolve under foot. He was a charmer alright. Naturally charming and handsome.
You sat side by side as you both ate your noodles when you asked about Sam, “So, you like men as well?” You raised your brows and took a bite.
Harry shrugged and nodded, “Sure. I like any humanoid type of creature really. Not picky. Well, okay… I am picky. Before you I chose very specifically and men or women, or anything in between that tickled my fancy. There have been times when I’ve been more desperate than others, but yeah… sure. I like men. Sam was more for convenience because I was feeling quite ill, dangerously so,” there it was, the dramatic filings of Harry exposed once again, you rolled your eyes as he continued, “but he is attractive, so… well, I just needed it. Wouldn’t have ever gone there with him if I’d had you. Not that I wanted to pressure you.”
You both listened when you took turns speaking. It was nice to have his attention and see him again, even though you’d technically only gone 24 hours without seeing him, it felt longer. So much had happened.
After Harry cleaned up the kitchen, he came behind you as you sat at the island and caged you in with a palm flat on the marble on either side of you. He spoke into your ear, whispering, “I only want you. I’ll do anything to have you forgive me. I’m yours. If you still want me.”
You closed your eyes when his warm breath spilt down your neck and lingered in your hair. He still gave you goosebumps. The way he spoke in a soft cadence into your neck had you pulling your head to the side involuntarily to allow him space.
When you lifted a hand from your lap onto the marble in front of you Harry’s pinky reached out to touch yours gently, but it was like his skin on yours had plugged you into a monitor where you could visualize his dirty thoughts. The images in his head. The things he wanted to do. But it was filled with sweetness too, it wasn’t just dirty. He was aroused and he was hoping, but he wasn’t stupid to think you’d give in.
You swallowed the lump in your throat at the images he had in his head and breathed out through your nose. You wanted to stay angry and teach him a real lesson. But what lesson would that be? Even with your own powers and morals and reasoning he was clouding your senses and you felt weak for him. To have just a taste, something to have of him. You’d only just started to get used to anything sexually, and you enjoyed the things he showed you and how he made you feel. You liked it all. You liked Harry.
You leaned back into the inside curve of his shoulders and turned your head toward him as he took this as an invitation and his lips found the skin on your neck. It was your undoing. His lips at your neck and the way he crowded you and how he smelled on you…
Your mouth began to water when you visualized him naked again. His sizeable dick and the way his pec muscles were so nice to hold onto when you’d slide yourself over him. Maybe you’d do more. Maybe you could see what it would be like to have sex. If it was with anyone it would be nice for it to be Harry. He could do it right, you knew he would. He’d make you feel good. And the things in his mind told you what you really needed to know, how much he adored you. How deeply he felt for you.
He moved the hair away from the back of your neck as he continued trailing his wet lips over your skin. His breathing was hard and you could feel puffs of breath falling from his nose as he worked his warm lips over your sensitive flesh. He inhaled deeply to soak in your essence. There was nothing like your scent. He wanted to bathe in you, swim in you, taste you so badly he was dizzy.
You shuddered a breath and you realized how aroused you were, how easily he worked you up. And you shouldn’t be. Should you? But it was too late, because you were feeling the warmth caress down your back and around to your tummy and then your insides. The slow heating of your body increased little by little until you were turned on enough that you’d leaked into your panties. You let out the smallest and softest moan and Harry nudged into you closer, his arms sliding down yours and his hands moved over yours. He didn’t want to do too much. He’d let you make the next move but his low simmer was about to become a full on boil with the way you moaned. He was hard in his pants, god you made him so hard.
You had had enough of this. You wanted more. You sat up and turned yourself toward the tall demon and kissed his mouth. It was like a small explosion at first touch, and the fallout was everything that happened after. Harry nearly fell into you and groaned as you grasped onto his collar, pulling him down to you. The stool under you wobbled as he clung to your waste. You both moved together, you sliding off the stool with a stumble and Harry holding on to you for dear life.
When you stood steady on your feet you grasped his shoulders awkwardly as he continued pressing his mouth onto yours in desperation. He didn’t want to slack up the hold he had on you, but instead covered you with his body as he curled around you. Your lips continued moving together as if you hadn’t just kissed him the day before. It felt like magic, his lips on yours and your tongue licking over his.
Without even realizing it, you two were slowly moving toward the stairs which would take you up to his bedroom. Your hands were still clutching onto his shirt at his shoulders, his arms were draped around your waste, keeping you tight to his body, your mouths never parting. The ascent up the stairs was clumsy, unwieldy, and slightly dangerous (if you’d been mortal). And it took a lot longer to make it to his second floor with the way your bodies were fused together, not to mention the minute long break three quarters of the way up when you had Harry pushed into his railing and he brought his hands down to your bottom and pressed you into his bulky center. You gasped and he bucked into you and that created a bit more hustle from you to get to the top.
When you finally crossed the threshold of his large bedroom the air changed. You both suddenly stopped and looked at one another with heaving chests and wet lips. Harry’s hands moved to your hips slowly as he softly squeezed. In his eyes and in his heart, you heard the words he wanted to speak, to ask; I want you. Can I have you? Do you want me? I’m yours.
Part 11*
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#harry styles smut#demon!harry#incubusrry#incubus!harry#dark!harry#virgin!reader#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles writing#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fic
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Part 17
Warnings: Fluff and Tension
At the game Riri is courtside wearing a custom cropped lettermen’s jacket Shuri specifically wanted her in. With cute ripped jeans and a pair of custom Shuri 11 Jordan’s. The jacket has Shuri’s number and last name on the back and Riri’s name is on the hip in the front with the year on the chest. It’s a look for sure. The players walk-ins are projected on the screen and Shuri looks so damn good in her suit with the no shirt look her chain shines as it’s on display. The rest of the girls don’t look half as good as her Baby. The bias is real.
The energy around introductions was amazing. Riri can’t believe this is her first ever high school game she missed out. Before tip off Shuri runs over to peck Riri’s lips leaning over into her ear Shuri whispers. “You’re my good luck charm.” The blush that overtakes Riri is second to no none. Shuri hops up and goes to work. She plays like a beast the entire game. With 30 of 32 mins playing time she scored 62 points, had 15 rebounds, 9 assists, and managed 4 steals. Benedict wins. The crowd erupted. “What a game for Shuri Udaku that 60 points is her new personal record. Last year her average was 46 points a game. The state record for points in a game is 80 points by any woman. If she keeps gaining momentum do you think we can see her touch the state record?” The commentators chatter away.
In the Main the girls are bouncing off the walls “Yo Panther is that what getting a girlfriend does to you?” Coach Rollins is screaming. “That was one hell of a game! Woooo!” “We are headed to the Championship! I know it!” Someone shouts. Shuri is rushing because she wants to get to Riri and celebrate. Her goal of a new personal record is huge for her.
The season draws on with Shuri and Riri now in a rhythm. They FaceTime with a little show before all games, and Riri sits courtside for any home game. Coach almost requires it now since they have been winning. The kiss is normally always done just before every tip off also. The sleepover are on pause for the season to keep Shuri focused. The school swears the ritual is the reason Shuri is going to hit the State record.
It's Valentine's Day Weekend and the team is on bi week so Shuri has some freedom. “Earth to Shuri! Bro! What are you daydreaming about?” Al is sitting in the Main it’s lunch so that only means one thing. “My bad. I have been seeing this ring design in my mind for days. So I’m getting it sketched out.” Al is interested but concerned. “What type of ring?” “Woah no not a wedding ring or anything like that just a promise ring. It’s for graduation.” Shuri holds up the sketch. The band is simple but twists into the shape of two hearts that interlock.
“You are cold Shuri. I'm so glad you started back designing.” “I have a muse now is all Al. Riri’s work on the nanotechnology health monitor bracelets was the start. From there all my ideas have just been flowing.” “Mhm What did you just say? Your girl is hella smart yo I can see how that’s inspiring.” Shuri laughs at Al. “Yes she is. The concept is that the bracelet houses these tiny robots that keep your vitals, brain waves and all health status closely monitored so that any slight changes can be addressed immediately. That’s how she explained it to me. It is going to be best for athletes because it provides immediate treatment.” Al nods.
“Right right I’m going to nod like I understand. When you all are traveling to the world saving it remember me. All I wanted to know was what you had planned before the lock-in. I know you lovebirds are going to make sure your first Valentine's Day is right.” Shuri shakes her head “My bad I just get excited to talk about her. But I have the Adler Planetarium rented out for a private dinner.” Al twists her face in surprise. “You know what. Why did I even ask? Of course it’s the perfect date.” They walk out after putting everything they have out in the lockers.
Riri is with MJ courtside, their ritual is for anytime Shuri plays. Shuri winks, biting her lip at her Princess before she goes to play. MJ peeps the subtle look. “Ooooh Ri. Why is she looking at you like a meal?” Ri looks out onto the court biting her lip in a similar fashion. “MJ, honestly we have been having some fun. It’s FaceTime but steps.” With wide eyes MJ covers her mouth. “SHUT UP! How come you haven’t told me!” Riri faces her friend. “Michelle you have been MIA on me.” “Ugh Girl I know ok ok I’m sorry I blame Peter. Damn I am missing all the good stuff too. Why FaceTime?” “Basketball season and privacy. Honestly Rohan and Sha are the in person cock blockers. The in school thing is not appealing.”
“Mmmmmm it’s giving very nerdy of you both. I like it.” The girls giggle. “So then Valentine’s Day? What is tea?” “She has some big date planned. A hotel stay then the lock-in. It’s a surprise and you know I hate surprises. MJ shaking her head. “That girl and her perfectionist ways.”“No MJ, I love the hopeless Romantic in her. It’s cute.” “Nope girl you just love you some her.”
The week speeds by but not without Riri and Shuri making it special for each other. Riri made sure her Dove had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich everyday, her favorite Starbucks drink, got her a new cologne, sent her flowers and a special woven blanket made for her to nap with. Shuri made sure her Princess was spoiled with her favorite flowers everyday, got her three new perfumes, and had her nails done twice when Riri didn’t like the first color. Then Shuri had a special leather briefcase and notebook made for her little brainiac.
It is Thursday evening now and Riri is packing with her music blasting. Sha comes into the room startling Riri. “Shit! Sha.” “Oop why are you cussing? I also love this outfit.” “You scared me Sha and thank you it's new. Shuri spoiled me for Valentine’s so far.” “Well what pray tell are you doing to spoil her?” Riri is always honest and up front with her sister so this conversation was bound to happen.
“I did the normal flowers, candy and this new cologne.” Riri huffs thinking about it. “That was for me. But I don’t know, maybe um we can finally.” Riri kind of trails off. Sex is non clinical to her. So she sometimes finds the words to speak about it hard to articulate. “You want to finally have sex? I am officially old. Sissy, that's a big step. Do you want advice or my opinion?” Riri lifts her head and looks at her sister with a pout.
“Both actually. It’s like a looming cloud for us. Up to this point she has been the one holding back. We have done…” Sharon glares at her sister intently. Riri stops before she shares too much. “We have done other things and I think the time may be right. Then I start overthinking, maybe it’s not.”
Sharon finally takes a breath. She gets up and starts to help her sister with her makeup. Random but it’s how she’s going to help. “Sissy you two are 18 year old seniors, it's not going to be what you see in the movies. So you have to go with the flow. Throw the idea of it being “perfect” out of your mind. You have to listen to yourself and Shuri. If tonight is it then it’s it. Be calm and don’t tense up. Also if you wear that little fenty set her head will explode.” Sharon looks at her sister all done with her makeup and almost tears up. Riri scrunches her face to a funny face.
“Sissy don’t cry please.” “I won’t but I just can’t believe how you have grown.” With everything packed Riri heads down her front stairs. When she makes it the front door bell rings . It’s Rohan to pick her up. She was instructed to wear comfy clothes for now. “Hello Miss Williams. Your presence is missed.” Ri loves Rohan; he's like an African Alfred. With a wave she hugs him quickly. “Hi Rohan don’t worry I will be home soon, she can’t be distracted.” After loading the last of her bags Rohan helps Riri into the car. “I am aware but she is up for hours restless without you. Before you ask, I am not at liberty to disclose tonight’s plan.”
The ride is quick to The W Hotel in downtown Chicago. With an escort Riri is taken to a huge suite. She opens the door to a beautifully decorated hotel room but not like the over done ones on YouTube couples do. The room is dimly lit with floor lights casting a deep red huge into the room. There are black heart shaped balloons floating on the ceiling and a rose petal heart on the floor. On the bed is a box and two bags. In the box is a gorgeous slim form fitted black dress. Its silhouette is cut higher at her left leg then on her right with a one shoulder neckline.
Riri readies herself and she was so thankful for her Sister doing her makeup. Riri opens the first bag with a pair of obsidian and diamond earrings for her to wear inside. The last bag has a letter and a pair of red bottoms. The letter reads. “Dear Princess, Solve the riddle and you will find the place to join me for our date. I visit you every night even if you don’t call me! I am lost everyday to you. What am I and where can you see me? Baby I love you and join me soon. Your Dove🤍” Riri racks her brain about the riddle. She smiles and pops out of the room to find Rohan.
“Ro take me to the Adler Planetarium!” Rohan grins ear to ear. “You are indeed a genius Miss Williams. Let us go.”
@somethingcleaverandwhitty @mal-urameshi @shuriris-stuff @neptoons1998 @dominiquesheart
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Free Cartomancy Reading: Anon
Anon has asked for a reading on “A clue for something I don’t see, but need? (Thank you.)” using Noxporium’s choice of deck for this matter. And for this matter, Zaheroux‘s Covid Romantic Playing Cards has been chosen.
Card: 9 of Roses (Hearts).
Short Answer: You need to start over. Perhaps a change of address. Certainly a change of thinking. But you don’t see it because you’ve been used to how things are for so long. What is in your environment that could be better but you’ve put it off for so long, you have forgotten that it can be better in the first place?
Not So Short Answer: Cory Hutcheson’s book 54 Devils gives “A little house/cottage. A new life.”, as the reference for the 9 of Hearts. So I had to sit with the card for a bit to understand how to explain it. Superficially, the card is advising you to change your address, to move out from where you are into a different neighborhood. Obviously, this isn’t something that is going to happen immediately and could have a timetable of years when considering how the current economy is outright hostile to such action.
But it is possible to change your living space without changing your mail drop. It takes a change of mind and a new way to look at you, your world, and how you choose to interact with it. You have become so used to the way things are that you are having difficulty imaging that alternate ways of doing things exist. You are aware of this or you would not have asked your query that way.
Because you are used to the way things are now, it is easy to overlook the little ways that things are not good for you. After all, you’ve put up with that flat pillow all this time, and even found a way to fold it into something you tell yourself is comfortable, so why bother to take the time to do something about it today, when there are lots of other things that need your attention and action.
But here’s the thing about flat pillows: They don’t fix themselves. They become part of the background, one more piece of scenery that you rush by because the pot on the stove is boiling over. You only remember that the pillow is flat when it’s time to go to bed at last but now you have to fold the pillow into a usable shape again and it becomes one more piece of grit in your soul’s unseen wound because there is nothing you can do about it until morning, but the morning has its own burdens to bear.
A new life doesn’t require a new postal address. It does require changing what is within reach so that you become part of a mutually beneficial environment instead of always fighting it for a moment of peace and rest. If this means taking twenty minutes and ten dollars to replace the pillow, then that is time and money well spent when you consider all the evenings and lazy afternoons that you won’t grind down by holding something that no longer holds you back.
And once you replace the pillow, or whatever small thing that this post inspires you to finally take care of, when you are at peace with that little piece of your new life that you have created, look around. What other small things can you do today, this week, this month, that will improve your life such that after you take care of the metaphorical pots, you can sit in peace? Start there.
The Corvid Romantic Playing Cards are a “poker” deck designed and illustrated by Megan Weber. Under the name of “Zaheroux“, she showcases her nature and magic inspired artwork. Please note that the Corvid Romantic’s Feathers are read as Clubs, the Bones are read as Spades, the Crystals are read as Diamonds, and the Roses are read as Hearts. The Corvid Romantic Playing Cards are ©Megan Weber.
Personalized, direct, and private cartomancy readings are available via https://ko-fi.com/noxporium.
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[ID: close up of the shoulder and neck of golden plate armor with intricate designs. End ID]
neryn: oath of the wreath / rising star of house alecyth / the party’s billowing beating heart
i made a playlist for my friend who plays neryn alecyth, the paladin of the idtsan party whom i love (they/she) <3 link and annotations under the cut!
spotify link
murmurations / reading the augury - alecyth manor. it’s good to be home. the next step for me will always further our family. (1)
protector - death on temple hill. back to work, soldier. (2)
soldier of love - hail, empress haxampe. ambition and loyalty, for their troops and for their empress. (3)
denarius - oath of the wreath. afthi, pyndha, and thadtslym (4)
talk - silvertongue, magnate maneuvering. thank you for your hospitality.
plain and sane and simple melody - gambling with soldiers and sailors. come now, i’m off duty. (5)
glitter and gold - glass cannon with a sword in hand. cut down by cultists, raised again and again to fight on. (6)
sicilian crest - betrayal at the citadel, your ex cousin seeping shadow. come to save the empire? come to save my house, bitch.
change on the rise - the loyalties of house alecyth have been restored. what good's a man / who’s lost his soul? / can’t take a stand / when his flame’s gone cold
applause - left hand of the empress, glittering peacock armor and a billowing cape on temple hill (7)
ladder to the sun - alecyth bluster and bravado in the face of nhaka’s ruthlessness. captain and commander, and you don���t look away.
king (live) - a little heroism made the difference between us being here and in the dirt. i should hope that you put me in the right place, at the right time. (8)
the poet - inspiring leader stories along the road. shaping the party into her pillar.
so it goes - a feast. i wish you good fortune on your mission. (9)
#neryn my beloved. glitter and gold was written for you#description of them that made someone immediately ask if neryn was into women:#adopted daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the empire / military hero just home from campaign / sooo fucking charismatic and#politicking all over the place / ambitious but insofar as they're trying to represent and defend the soldiers to whom she owes her rise /#owns and frequently uses their cloak of billowing / epic poetry nerd / absolute glass cannon. negative constitution paladin. i have to#spend so many spells keeping them alive#(idtsan is the byzantine/roman inspired homebrew campaign i'm in! we're currently on a quest to uh. collapse some governments.#and along the way we are meeting so many people's families and unlocking so much deep lore)#sola said#sola described#idtsan#neryn#scrumbocore#music
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Who are your top ten blorbos?
Alright! I finally have time to answer this! Girl I have had so many blorbos in my life, I’m gonna start from current and work my way along. (Current blorbo is subject to change so number #2 is truly #1)
1. 𝒯𝒶𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜 (current) I’ve been holding off on making him my blorbo but let’s face it, I couldn’t anymore, just look at him. Kindness radiates off him, he loves and cares for everyone, it just swept up my heart along with it.
2. §ðrå and ℜ𝔬𝔵𝔞𝔰 (do you see what I did there? ¬‿¬) listen, KH1 came out when I was in 2nd grade, I immediately fell for Sora, I remember this one fic on quizilla I read of him, wish I could find it and re read it. §ðrå is a carefree, quirky, silly lil guy who gets way over his head but loves his friends dearly. ℜ𝔬𝔵𝔞𝔰 likewise when KH2 came out when I was in 5th grade I was smitten, he was a broody lil guy, awkward at times but determination written all over his character. He desired to be his own person. I think it’s their blue eyes that initially made me swoon lol
3. ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕣 Let me tell you something, I bought his game (Detroit Become Human) AND a ps4, just because he was my blorbo and I needed more content of him. Ended up spending $300, playing the game once, then donating them to a friend
4. 𝑅𝑒𝓃𝑔❀𝓀𝓊 𝒦𝓎❀𝒿𝓊𝓇o (his kindness drew me in, he was also full of a lot of gusto, I liked his voice and his sword skills, but then my co-worker expressed she was simping too and I respectfully backed down, weird right? Why would I I mean he’s not even real anyways. If you asked if I still like him I kinda do but his character design is too loud for me now
5. 𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙽𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚊 (he’s an older blorbo but he checks out) I mcfrickin was so in love with this dude when I was like 23, from Bungou Stray Dogs, his kindness and eyes won me over
6. ꪊꪀᛕꪀꪮ᭙ꪀ (Mystic Messenger) I almost feel like this one was almost a Stockholm syndrome situation, the writing in this game I thought was just so good. I was definitely the type to stay up till 4am to experience all the chats. Unknown himself was a deeply misunderstood character and I even saw myself in him sometimes
7. 𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔲𝔠 oh my beloved Dral, why did they have to put such a charming and funny character in an anime with bewb jokes every episode, really such a pity. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t watch the ‘vampire dies in no time’ ,he is the only redeeming quality of the show. Funny, charming, ditzy, and not to mention, he fits my Victorian aesthetic but seriously if you struggle with lust don’t watch this show there’s no sex scenes or anything but there is nudity
8. 𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕞𝕒. listen, he’s got a pretty design and I was weak for it. Captivating, it was like a siren call that I couldn’t resist. Additionally he’s got the Dazai Osamu personality (AND THE SUB VA) cmon what do you expect? Anyway, I basically got over him by finally simping Tanjiro. (Why’d I have to get over him? well, he’s a demon. The worst one at that
9. ░S░u░g░a░w░a░r░a░ (Fun fact! Suga and I are the same age, only 9 days apart!) another sunshine boy, oh boy. I was never into those sports animes but I gave a haikyuu a chance and I was glad I pushed past the first few episodes, Suga cares for his friends and his goal is to be the biggest supporter he can be, even if it means he’s on the sidelines, a selfless guy, melted right into that pot.
10. JɄ₦₭ɆⱤ QɄɆɆ₦ do you want honesty? cause I’ll give you honesty. I’m not proud of this one but I’m also not afraid to show my flaws. When I watched her cinema trailer for the first time, I tried to pretend I didn’t feel anything but I’m gonna be real, I totally did. I read fan fics, attempted to draw her a few times, played her.. A LOT. But I’ve repented of it. Again, I’m putting it here for honesty’s sake. She was a blorbo, I haven’t played overwatch in like a month as part of my repentance
Well, that’s my 10 most memorable blorbos! Thank you for such an interesting question!
#we aren’t gonna talk about how I started on this 2 hours ago#but this was fun#so much fun#thank you for asking!!#blorbo#personal#anime
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Some of my favourite types of fictional relationship dynamics (according to whatever names I’ve decided to give them, regardless of whether or not they are previously named tropes):
1. Mutually Protective
This can be romantic or platonic, physical or emotional, or literally anything, but??? I adore characters who will go the extra mile to protect the people they love, and when there’s TWO characters who are EQUALLY protective of each other, I simply die. Whether it’s a battlefield-type of “I’ll fight and bleed and die for you,” or it’s a gentler “Let me carry this burden so you don’t have to,” as long as it’s going both ways, I’m obsessed. Yes, please. More of this.
2. Jack & Joy
Naming this after a story from Douglas Gresham I read once about he, his mother, and stepfather (you know... C. S. Lewis...) going for a walk, and running into a trespasser who pointed a bow + arrow at them, so Lewis stepped in front of his wife, who, in turn, said “Dang it, Jack, get out of my way!” because wonderful Joy had brought a 'garden gun’ along to scare off animals, so Jack stepped aside and they sent that trespasser running. BASICALLY an extension of “mutually protective” but it must contain 1) A woman who can handle herself, and 2) a man who knows she can handle herself & knows when to step aside BUT will also willingly put himself in harm’s way to protect her. This is also very common in crime shows, and I love it every single time.
3. “No Doubt About It/The Archer/Red Raw Rolling” Ladies
(Song titles by: ABBA, Taylor Swift, and Alanna Boudreau.) Give me angry, untrusting, self-sabotaging, doubtful, explosive ladies, and then give me extremely patient men who love them until the very end. This just speaks to my soul. We don’t overanalyze this.
4. Lorelai Gilmore + Luke Danes
The crux of this dynamic is that one of them is a single parent, and the other one loves the first one’s child(ren) as much as they would love their own, even if they’re not yet in a relationship. Because, sure, Lorelai knew she loved Luke. But do you remember the moments in the series that she knew she loved him with the absolute most clarity? It was when she realized he loved Rory (almost?) as much as she did. JUST! Straight shot to the heart, that one.
5. The Dawn & Waverly Effect
If I had a nickel for every time a supernatural show gave me a monster-hunting lady with a younger sister, and then tried to make me care about the mc’s romance with some dude, when actually the far more compelling dynamic is the platonic relationship between the dude and the younger sister, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s strange that it happened twice. Named for “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Wynonna Earp,” I refuse to ship Spuffy or Wynonna/Doc, but GOSH DARN IT, Spike & Dawn and Doc & Waverly are some dang wholesome friendships.
6. The Old Married Couple
Actually also applies to newly married couples. So long as the couples are in a happy, healthy marriage, I lose my mind. I just love marriage.
7. When they’re just. So in love. The whole time.
The heartbeat of the slowburn isn’t freaking “sexual tension;” it’s actually the fact that the couples love each other in such a selfless way even when there is no external romance in their relationship!!!! This dynamic is probably most obvious in friends-to-lovers, but it could exist in other situations. The point is that they have never not loved each other. There’s always been love. And then when that love changes designs, it’s just!! The most natural thing in the world!! Because they have always, ALWAYS loved each other, one way or another! Makes my heart soft.
8. Older Brother
A classic. You know those fictional older brothers who are always there to listen to your problems, encourage you to chase your dreams, and help you when things go wrong? I think I’ll always have a soft spot for those, and the relationship between these older brothers and their younger siblings is just the most precious.
9. Best Friends
Just. ALL the best friends. “You and me against the world” type best friends. Groups of best friends who, as a whole, are like family. Best friends who have known each other their whole lives. Best friends forged over the course of the story. Best friends who are one another’s safe space when other relationships fall apart. JUST!!! BEST FRIENDS!!
10. Mom said it’s my turn to use the braincell
Usually a duo of minor characters, and absolutely delightful just about every time. A beautifully chaotic relationship. I love how they take turns being complete disasters while the other one keeps them in line, but then ALSO have the occasional incidents where both of them are complete buffoons. Iconic. Beautiful. I love it. (My favourite example of this will only make sense to my siblings and cousins, but... Nicholas Coke and Dr. Martin Pepper? Name a better duo. I’ll wait.)
#mostly made this because the content fits better on my instagram lol#but y'all can read it too if you'd like#I am not sure this list is complete#but here's a few good ones#my other favourite is 'Jynley'#but I cannot include them on this list because nobody does it like them#I simply would not trust anyone else to do them justice#there are similar dynamics of course#but they'll never live up to the pure redemptive chaos that is jynley
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Unit 022 (Cyberpunk!JungkookxRobot!Y/N)
☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡
Warnings- None
One shot but possible series!
(”My name is already printed on her body. I don’t share.”)
☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡☆彡
12.7.2022.
The first to betray me was a god. My creator. My mother. The nights I spent in the scrap yard left a gaping hole in the center of my hardware. I wish I was never coded to feel such strong emotions. I could never name this aching sensation, but it’s so overwhelming. My hands ached from the lack of oil and I was quickly running low on battery. I had been eating nuts and bolts for some time now, my artificial teeth vibrated with each bite. Seemingly, the realization I am a product of a defect is one that is hard to deal with. I was never meant to exist. My breath, down to the metal of my lungs, was a blip in the timeline.
Units, like me, aren’t as rare as they used to be. When we were first introduced to the game we were considered ‘limited treasures’. We were considerably expensive to the common people, only higher players on the leaderboard could have even imagined owning a unit. Were designed to serve without reason or thought, our heart stones act as an extra life for the player. Units are designed for the purpose of service and companion ship. Nothing but mutts in a greater perspective. After the 3rd arch unit’s were now available by search, being able to come across them by chance made it that more exciting. They can be found in caves, dungeons, castles, and forests. Typically not found in scrap metal.
I wasn't made correctly, I was a mistake. I don't have a heart stone. I would never be able to provide the protection needed for my master. I am always in competition with myself, never with competitors because in reality I don't have any. I have to push myself ten times more than average to compensate for my lack. If my life wasn't dependent on him, it would be so satisfying to see just how bad things could get.
Master Jungkook found me 26 moons after I was thrown to the cats. He was completing a quest for his local black smith, he was tasked to find just enough metal to create his very own scythe. He landed upon me instead. He was 9, or so he tells me. I was unable to scan him for the first few months, so I just followed him around like a lost puppy. I always wanted to make sure I was around, just in case his stats ever tarnished. “Do you need anything, Master?” I whispered. “Uh, Nope! Not yet!” the boy gleamed. My readers were broken when I was scavenged and the technician said he was surprised my back up generator lasted for that long. By the time they had busted open my panels my lead was melted and fused into one.
Once I was repaired I wasn’t in the market for long, master Jungkook took no time to take ownership of my unit. Master Jungkook is an eager player in the VRMMO world. From the moment I met him he glistened with boyish charm. I felt that my camera modified iris could not comprehend the colors that glew from his skin. How his hair would fall perfectly with each landing, and his clothes always tailored to perfection. He was beauty personified, kindness made unreal, and love turned nonfiction.
“Can you be any slower 22?!” Master chuckled from the practice field. “I had to grab safety equipment! What if you get hurt while we're gone?” I rebutted. He had just looked towards the sun and smiled, gripping onto his scythe with ambition. His attention was abruptly taken by the map changing shape for the second time this hour. They interchange every 30 minutes, to keep the players engaged and simulated.
“Woah, you see that cliff? I wonder what the views are like!” he shouted through his bunny teeth. Jungkook is much older now, nowadays it really showed in his face. His stats tell me he’s freshly 19. Before I could snap myself out of my thoughts and protest whatever menacing plan the boy was up to he had already dashed out of my peripheral view. I adjusted my camera to the new lighting and chased after him. His scent following behind him as he ran, no one could be as comforting as he is. His feet carried him up the side of the building, standing completely vertical. “Master! Please be careful!” I screamed, reaching my hands out.
“Why don't you hurry up here? It will be better with you here!” He smirked. I scrambled my way up the same path he took. By the time I had reached his presence all I could do was grab onto his waist. I wasn’t fearful of myself, but rather fearful of something happening to him. “Aw, you scared Bunny?” he whispered. “Huh?” I squeaked. “I thought maybe having a name would be much more endearing than calling you ‘Unit 022’ all the time. What do-ya think?” “I like it. I really do.”
12.8.2022.
Tonight Master decided to take on a quest in a new unlocked map. I don't have a good feeling, though I never do. He can never seem to stay out of trouble. I decided to bathe myself in fluid before battle, it helps keep my hardware capable of expansion on field. The capsule is clear with a blue hue light shining upwards from below. My body stays floating as I close my eyes and roll my head back. All noise from the outside world is muffed through my encasing. I hear the closing of a door behind me on my right side. My ear automatically intensifies to adjust to my surroundings.
“Resting?” The voice spoke. I could have picked it out and recognized it from a million, it was Jungkook. “You know I like being prepared.” I smiled while keeping my eyes closed. I could sense him taking steps closer to the capsule, it wasn't very hard to tell. The quest tonight is a battle against another team, we estimate 2 players excluding a fellow unit. This should be easier considering they're a lower level than we are. “Are you nervous for tonight?” I questioned. “What? No, never” Jungkook chuckled with his chest. I used this moment of happiness to check his stats. His health was in mint condition, although I sensed his stress levels increased. He was lying to me.
“Why did you take this quest anyways?” I finally opened my eyes. Jungkook was standing directly in front of my drifting body, he was shirtless and making hard eye contact with me. His tattoos were littered across his skin. I loved them, they gave him personality. “Because I want to get us somewhere nicer. Don't get me wrong, his district will always have a place in my heart but I can't stand living in fear that something bad will happen to you while I'm logged out.” he sighed. “You know I can handle myself.” I pushed my body down towards him, placing my hands on the glass. The fluid in the chamber made my hair beautifully flow above my head, I looked like a painting. Jungkook placed his hands on mine. “I know, I never want to take the chance of losing you.” I could feel a vibration spread from the core of my body, why would he say such an intimate thing? “I still remember what it was like to struggle. I don’t want us to ever feel like ever again.”
“I wouldn't worry too much, master. Tonight will be just fine, we always make it out alive.” I tried comforting him, with the best that my robotic heart could ever. He bit his lip in worry, “I know we will.”
He dropped his hands from the glass and shook his head. His eyes never left mine, but the worry stayed. He turned on his heels and left the repair room. I sighed and tried my best to relieve my distress. I couldn't get my mind off the little boy who once was my savior.
Preparing to defend Jungkook was a tedious task. I never really knew what may happen to him while in battle, so I prepared for everything. I carried a metal pack that would latch onto these hooks designed onto the back of my suit. I carried things like health potions and extra bullets for my hand guns because it felt foolish to not be over prepared. Legend has it I started throwing in food packs as well, Jungkook's stomach is a never ending black hole. Once on a journey to the far lands Jungkook complained the whole time because there hadn't been a market for miles. I kind of liked whiny Jungkook.
I made sure to lace my suit on extra tight, I had always done this to aid my anxiety. It was all black with blue strips that lined my sides. It used to be completely black until a few months ago when Jungkook dyed his hair blue, now we match. I slide my hand guns into their holster on my waist, they are also matte black. The only thing making me visible with all the dark colors was the ownership tag on my suit. It stated “OWNERSHIP OF PLAYER: JEON JUNGKOOK”, just right above my tramp stamp, it was embroidered with a beautiful silver. Just Jungkook's taste.
“Ready?” Jungkook called from the common room. I sighed, I really wish we could just stay in tonight. I grabbed the last of my supplies and followed after his voice. He stood in his skin tight upper suit and baggy combat pants. This was his everyday uniform. “Are we teleporting?” I questioned. Sometimes using teleportation devices messed with my inner GPS, I hated using them. “You know it,” Jungkook smirked. He took a hold of my hand and lifted me up onto the platform. His hand landed securely on my waist, holding my balance as the frequency makes me dizzy.
By the time we had arrived at the agreed battle zone the sun had already set and everything was pitch black. Jungkook stood tall and strong in front of me, I used my reader and scanned the area. I found 3 heat signatures on the opposite end of the field. “3 Directly in front of us.” I whispered just loud enough for him to pick up. “They have a unit.”. He nodded his head in confirmation.
A booming voice spoke over the speakers. “Players. You have 30 minutes to capture each other's flags. Once captured, all weapons must be dropped. Failing to do so will lead to a permanent ban. Prizes for the winners will be collected once health has been restored. If both teams fail to capture the opponent flag 100,000 dollars will be collected in fines.” A gasp left my mouth as I heard the stakes. Jungkook, what the fuck.
I could sense the other players beginning to station themselves for battle. I took this as a perfect opportunity to activate the shields I have installed in both Jungkook and I’s suits. I lowered my glasses completely to give me insight on the other team and keep tabs on Jungkook’s stats. His oxygen rate was increasing along with his stress levels, he’s most likely to take risky chances when like this. I need to keep an eye on him.
The announcer spoke once more, “Teams, make your way to the center of the field.”
Jungkook took the first step, I followed right behind him. Two men and a female presenting unit make themselves known on the other side. The taller man had bright orange hair whereas the shorter one had bright red. I made a signal on Jungkook’s map to watch his blind spot on his right, the lights in that area dimmed and seemed to be laced with traps.
“Beautiful unit you have there,” said the strange man with orange hair. He smiled at Jungkook, never looking in my direction. “We didn’t expect to see anyone else with one in this area, I guess you're lucky.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess you can call it luck.” Jungkook sneered. His grip on his scythe stiffened. “Where's my manners! I’m Kai. This is Jasper and my Unit’s name is Jade. Isn’t this a little dangerous? Just the two of you?” Kai questioned.
“Trust me, I think we got this. We’ve been through much worse.” Jungkook took a step forward, shielding me from Kai's view. “Well if you say so, you are….?” Kai’s voice veered off as he spoke.
“Jungkook.”
“And her's?”
“Does it matter?” Jungkook cut him off just as soon as he opened his mouth. I suppose Kai sensed the aggression because he threw his hands up in defense. “I was just wondering, why don't we raise the stakes?” Kai smirked.
“How so?” Jungkook’s head tilted with confusion. I reached my hand out and placed it on his upper forearm. I thought maybe this would let him know not to play into whatever trap Kai was opposing. I was wrong. “If I win I want your unit.” Kai’s once smirk disappeared into nothing but a cold stare. I took a bold step forward and narrowed my eyes. “You’re too late, she’s already claimed. My name is already printed on her body. I don't share.”
“Then let the game begin.”
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Nona the Ninth, Day Two, Chapter 7
(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)
(Second House icon) In which we learn many things, but few of them useful right now.
MUSH FOR BREAKFAST—HONESTY’S JOB GOES TERRIBLY WRONG(1)—THE CITY HAS A WORSE DAY—CAMILLA-AND-PALAMEDES—“KEEP HER HOME TONIGHT”—FOUR DAYS UNTIL THE TOMB OPENS.
Nona is awakened abruptly(2) and screams when something wet and heavy hits her face and splashes drops around. Cam tells her to start, and Nona resentfully describes her dream.
“It’s the sitting part. My feet are in the nice water, the safe water. The water’s in my boots. My socks are full of it. I’m talking to her but I can’t see her face. I tried to, Cam, but it’s what always happens, I don’t manage to look at it, it just doesn’t work.”
She goes on to describe that they talk, but she can't really understand the words. They touch hands, and it's always her hands, both the ones she's touching and the ones she's using to touch them. There are red eyes in the darkness, and in the dream she's very hungry. And she might have remembered more, but then a wet cloth hit her face.(3)
Nona gets changed, though she doesn't like the t-shirt she laid out, which shows a hamburger with legs.(4) It feels too juvenile now that she's got it on.
Cam apologizes for the sponge, and Nona apologizes for not waking up. Cam still promises not to do the sponge again, as the experiment failed. Strangely, Cam asks about her hands in the dream, though she usually doesn't ask anything after dream talk time is over. She asks if Nona likes the hands, and Nona says no, not at all. The narration tells us Nona hates having hands.(5) Cam squints at her, but doesn't ask for a reason, just thanks Nona for the answer. Nona asks if that was another clue, do they know who she is yet? Cam says simply, "No."
Nona expresses her love for Cam and Pal, brushes her teeth, and goes out to breakfast. Pyrrha made cold mush, with fruit juice and dried sultanas.(6) Pyrrha describes yesterday at work, where two men got into a big fight. Nona says her friends don't want to kill each other, though they say it often. Hot Sauce is good at quieting them when they get too rowdy. Pyrrha says Hot Sauce could have a big future with a different name. Nona says Honesty told her Hot Sauce's name was very special, and she (Nona) should ask her (Hot Sauce) about it some time.
Nona remembers last night's discussion and asks Pyrrha why We Suffer hates her.
“Because I remind her that her God was just a human being who could get tired and fuck up,”(7) said Pyrrha instantly.
She continues that We Suffer probably doesn't hate her so much anymore, after seeing her famous charm. Nona says if Pyrrha's charming, why's she single? Pyrrha affects a dramatic pose and says her heart is broken and she'll never love again. Nona wonders if Pyrrha is being more honest than she'd admit. It would make sense: she lost the Pal to her Cam.
Cam emerges and complains about the baby food for breakfast, which means it's not Cam but Pal. Pyrrha says options were limited. Pal asks what happened to her pay. Pyrrha admits she had to pay a bribe to some Site C guys. Pal offers a swap for Site B, he and Cam have ways- but Pyrrha says she'd rather save them taking such risks.
“I greenlight it every time, I thoroughly scan her for—”
“You should be draining and replacing her fucking brain fluid,” said Pyrrha. “When Gideon and I designed that trial, I used to crack his skull and sieve it myself, just as a control variable. It’s aggregative. I doubt you’re testing her white blood cell count either. The only other people I put through that damn trial were Mercy and Cris, because only Cris didn’t mind being trepanned(8) on the regular.(9) Fucking around with souls is the problem, Sextus … you can’t ever get the full data on souls.”
Nona interrupts their argument to ask if they're fighting because everyone else in the city is. They both look guilty, and Pyrrha says they're just under a lot of stress, and Nona should eat her mush, even if it's awful. Nona thinks it's not so bad, really. At least it's easy to eat more of it than she usually does.
The timer goes off for Pal, and Cam comes back, looks at breakfast, and asks what happened to Pyrrha's pay. Pyrrha says she isn't arguing it twice. So, they all get on with their morning stretches, and then head out. Nona gazes longingly at the merchant stalls as they go past, and when Pyrrha asks what she's looking at, Nona says she'd like a gift for her six-month birthday. Cam says she can get one at a year.
Nona was alarmed; if she didn’t get a present now there was a good chance she would not get to have one later.(10)
But Pyrrha said, “God, you think she’s ever gotten presents? I visited her hometown back before Anastasia got settled, and it was grim as fuck then. Just spooky caves all the way down…”
This interested Nona, except Cam said sharply, “Don’t lead,”(11) and Pyrrha said, “No leading, ma’am, I understand. What do you want for a gift, Nona?”
Nona asks for a pack of coloured rubber bands for her braids, so she can have different colours on them. Pyrrha says she said a present, something that costs money. Nona says she chose it because it's cheap, so Pyrrha can probably afford it even on half pay. Pyrrha calls domestic life depressing, and Cam says, "Sometimes".
They continue walking, until Pyrrha splits off, kisses the top of Nona's head, and says her see-you-laters. Cam escorts Nona to school, just in time, and leaves. Nona is puzzled that Cam didn't come up with her like usual, but her attention is distracted by the voices of her friends.
In the classroom, "the nice lady teacher" is applying a cloth to one side of Honesty's face. Honesty asks that Nona do it, for his dignity. The teacher is relieved to see Nona in the doorway, and hands off the cold cloth duty. Honesty has a nasty black eye, and Nona is flad to cover it back up with the "cold, tingly-smelling cloth". The teacher tells the others to leave Honesty some space and prepare the room for class.
Nona asks Honesty what happened, but he won't answer.
Hot Sauce doesn't show up until the Angel arrives, not late but looking even more tired than the day before. She examines Honesty, to the Teacher's further relief, and pronounces that nothing has ruptured, he'll just be in some pain from it, and asks what hit him. Honesty asks how she knows it wasn't a fist, and the teacher says she (the Angel) is a doctor. The Angel clarifies that she's adjacent to being a doctor and is "getting a good crash course in, er, triage."(12)
Hot Sauce had come in "a suitable and careless distance" behind the Angel, and takes a tiny child's seat next to the window instead of her usual. The teacher asks her to switch back at break, but Nona figures she won't.(13)
At break, Nona gives half her fruit to Honesty, even though it was promised to Born in the Morning, who doesn't argue. Hot Sauce asks Honesty who did it, and Honesty says he can't tell her, and she doesn't need to freak out. Hot Sauce does a funny thing with her face that makes everyone nervous. Honesty tells her to stop, but she persists. Eventually, Honesty admits that he ran into a streetlight, and blacked out.
After eating some of the fruit for comfort, soggy berries you have to suck off the stems,(14) Honesty admits he got scared on the job he got, and he says he won't be working with those guys anymore. He fidgets with the empty spray from the fruit, takes one of Born in the Morning's, who again doesn't complain, and describes the job. It was supposed to be easy, but they talked themselves into a third robbery after two easy ones, and the third went bad.
Nona finds the story mostly incoherent, as I do, but essentially someone on the crew got separated from the rest, but opened the cargo hold on the third trawler anyway. And, instead of valuable cargo, he saw people with whited-out eyes, who all moved in unison to look at him.(14) This scared him so badly, he was freaking out everyone else once they picked him up, then they were being followed by more militia trucks, and Honesty ran off and got his brain damage.
Born in the Morning calls out that Honesty just said so many swears, but Honesty tells him to shut up. Born in the Morning says it's not fair he gets in trouble with Nona for swears but Honesty doesn't, and Kevin tells him to shut up. The shock of that act's rarity does the job, shuts Born up, and breaks some of the tension.
Hot Sauce says she'll take care of Honesty. Then, the teacher suggests they clean up, and Nona should ring the school bell and leash up Noodle. Before she does, Nona says she'll take care of Honesty, too. Honesty asks who wants her taking care of him, dumb as she is.
Hot Sauce asks how many vehicles it was. Honesty says he's sure it was the Convoy his job-crew tried to rob.(15)
=====
(1) Oh no! I like Honesty, he's a cute kid.
(2) Hmm… That's funny, Nona waking up abruptly as soon as John gets cut off mid-word talking to the person who may or may not be Harrow.
(3) See, it's not even the same dream… but why, then, would those interruptions be back to back?
(4) Note Nona's outfit on the cover art. This must be a big day. Or it's just rather a vivid picture to describe.
(5) That's an odd detail to be so specific about.
(6) Overnight oats! Also, this is such a tiny thing, but… do you remember how excited Nona was at the thought of cold breakfast but not cold eggs? Pyrrha noticed. She's a warrior but she's also such a mom. I love her so.
(7) Huh. Why would that upset We Suffer? Is it easier to rally a cause against a truly omnipotent God? I should've thought quite the opposite.
(8) Trepanation - the cutting of a hole in the skull. Documented in tens of thousands of years of skulls, many with healed edges proving it was done well before death, and in ages with no modern anesthetic.
(9) Side note here… Hm. Pyrrha is the cavalier, and G1deon the necromancer. She says she checked his cerebrospinal fluid regularly, for whatever the marker is of this soul-overlap going wrong. But, Cristabel was Mercy's cavalier. So, which role requires the CSF checking? Or is she just not mentioning having herself and Mercy checked as well? (This is the sort of thing I'm curious about potentially being fixed in the paperback edition, or left in place…)
(10) Why wouldn't Nona get a present in six months?
(11) Presumably, "don't give hints as to who Nona might be, and lead her to behave like someone she's not just to please them". Ever the scientist, Cam.
(12) That sounds way more suspicious than lying about being a doctor.
(13) I believe this is done as a power play of some sort, though I'm not entirely sure how or why. It's also possible she's so angry about seeing Honesty hurt that she needs to calm down before she confronts him about it and she knows she won't if she's sitting near him.
(14) I'm operating under the assumption these are very sad refugee city grapes. There are plenty of edible green berries out there, but since Pyrrha put sultanas in the mush, it makes sense they have access to grapes at some level to make raisins.
(15) But why would the Convoy be driving around with creepy horror-movie human cargo?
#the locked tomb#tlt#nona the ninth#ntn#nona the ninth spoilers#ntn spoilers#nona#camilla hect#pyrrha dve#the angel (ntn)#hot sauce (ntn)#honesty (ntn)
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Not Holding Back - Chapter 20
Pairing: Boss!JacksonWang x PersonalAssistant!F!Reader
Genre: smut, fluff, angst, obsessive behavior, Jackson-is-a-fashion-designerAU
Wordcount: 1612
Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20] - [21] - [22] - [?]
MASTERLIST
Summary: When Y/N starts working as a personal assistant for the director of TEAM WANG DESIGN: Jackson Wang himself, she finds it hard to hide her secret. After all, she used to be a massive stan of her boss! But she's not the only one holding back...
Warnings: Swearing, angst, degradation, sir kink, namecalling, masturbation, obsessive!Jackson, dirty talk, corruption kink?, praising, sexual fantasies, fingering, posessive!Jackson, grinding/humping by both parties, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of sex toys, lots of teasing, orgasm denial, semi-public sex? breeding/impreg kink, WILL ADD MORE AS STORY ADVANCES, PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED ANY
You had changed about twenty times before finding the right fit.
Since you had decided you wanted to tease him you had picked a cute white see-through lingerie set. Over it, you had decided to wear one of his white button-downs. You had picked the one with the thinnest fabric, so it would be slightly see-through. It was quite big on you, but not long enough to cover your thong-clad ass completely.
You had never done anything like this before for anyone, but you were too horny to care.
Tiptoeing you made your way over to his study. This time you didn't knock but opened the door instantly and as slowly as you could. Your heart was racing as you peaked around the corner.
Jackson was sitting with his back towards you again, curtains drawn shut once more. He was still holding the phone to his ear but he was sitting back more relaxed now.
'Right, yeah I don't think we'll have to scrap that idea since they want more items anyway,' he said with a nod.
He sounded calm and composed, which meant that the crisis that had been going on earlier was probably resolved.
Perfect.
Very quickly you opened the door further and shut it behind you. The click of the hinge made Jackson look around.
As soon as he spotted you his eyes became big and his mouth sagged open slightly.
You felt yourself blush but you ignored it. It was showtime.
With the most innocent look on your face, and your hands clasped together on your back, you tiptoed over to him.
Jackson slowly turned his chair towards you, his face still stunned and his eyes glued to you.
You stopped in front of him.
'What? Yeah, I'm still here,' Jackson said quickly on the phone. His voice sounded slightly hoarse and you grinned. You could see him swallow, clenching his jaw before wetting his lips, his eyes still not leaving your figure.
Now that you were in front of him like this, with that hungry look on his face, you were feeling a lot more confident.
You crawled onto his lap straddling him on his chair and wrapping your arms around his neck.
Jackson bit his lip, his phone still pressed to his ear while he looked up to you.
'I-I think we need to reassess that issue later,' he said, his voice lower than before. 'I think it's more important now that we f-focus-focus on getting the current line out there,'
The fact that he was stumbling over his words only encouraged you further.
You bent over to kiss his collarbone softly and slowly. His reaction was instant, as he threw his head back, closing his eyes and opening his mouth, letting out an inaudible sigh.
Smirking to yourself you continued kissing and licking his collarbone, slowly upwards towards his ear.
'Well, we already have thREE-ah!' Jackson coughed to cover up his moan when you licked from his jaw to his ear, 'Sorry, three pieces ready. As long as you've reviewed the design I sent you today, we can, we can start production on number four,' Jackson said absentmindedly.
You moved your face towards his and were now brushing your lips, open-mouthed over his, teasing him but not actually giving him the satisfaction of a kiss, just like he had done with you before.
Jackson opened his mouth for you, moving with you, his breathing heavy and his lidded eyes following yours.
'If you can... touch up the WhirlWind design just a little... change the... the lace to velvet...' Jackson muttered on the phone, now starting to sound incoherent.
To person on the other line reacted enthusiastically and you recognized the faint but familiar voice to be Jay B.
Good. It wasn't a client.
Which meant you could go on.
Very slowly you started to grind your hips into his lap.
Jackson instantly closed his eyes again.
It wasn't difficult to find his hard-on through the fabric of his tented pants. For a moment you looked down. His trousers were positively straining to hold him in.
You focused your gaze back on his face again and started grinding harder, faster, and more purposely.
Jackson bit his lip again.
'I-I don't care, just, just figure something out,' he said shortly, his eyes still closed and a slight frown on his forehead.
He was trying to concentrate but you wouldn't let him get away with it. You dipped into his neck again to kiss and lick him, grinding onto his rock-hard cock as fast as you could. You could feel your own slick seeping out of you, staining your panties that were already drenched. You knew it was seeping though, knew it was ruining his pants. But you didn't care.
You licked his jaw again, dragging your tongue up to underneath his ear.
That had been it.
'Fuck!,' Jackson groaned, finally giving in, 'dude, I'mma call you back,' he said quickly, pulling the phone from his ear, tapping the red button, and throwing it on his desk.
His eyes were black as night as he looked at you furiously and hungrily.
'You will pay for that,' he growled baring his teeth at you.
He grabbed your thighs harshly and lifted you up to set you down on his desk, the expression on his face could only be described as animalistic.
With one swift movement, he was holding both of your wrists in one large hand behind your own back. Standing between your legs that were dangling off the desk, he let his free hand move over your chest, up to your neck where he grabbed hold of you, squeezing slightly but not enough to choke you.
He kissed you roughly, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You kissed him back just as eagerly, wanting to taste him more than anything.
'You're such a fucking slut,' he growled, 'Open!' he commanded. You immediately opened your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue and he spat on it. 'Swallow!' he told you and you obeyed again, drawing back in your tongue and closing your mouth, swallowing his saliva.
'Fuck,' he groaned, gripping your throat a little tighter. 'You're so fucking dirty, ey?' It wasn't really a question. He let go of your wrists and you quickly put your hands down behind your back to lean on your arms so you wouldn't fall over.
His free hand dipped in between your legs, his long index finger sliding over the gauze fabric panties that did a poor job of covering you up.
'Shit, you're soaking already baby,' he panted, feeling your wetness through the sheer fabric. 'So needy? Hmm? So needy for me?' he said while finding your clit and pinching it. You let out a mewl in response.
For a moment Jackson let go of your throat, leaving your neck feeling cold, also withdrawing his hand from between your legs
'Look at what you're wearing,' he said with clenched teeth. He suddenly grabbed the front of the shirt you had taken from his closet and ripped at it. The buttons went flying in every direction as it sprang open, revealing the cute white gauze lingerie set you were wearing. He groaned once more at the sight of it.
'What's this, hm?' he spoke, one of his hands sliding up slowly again to your neck and grabbing it tightly once more. 'Trying to play innocent?' he said, eyeing the cutesy lingerie. His lips brushed your jaw and you shivered beneath him. Everything he was doing, from the way he held you to what he was saying, was turning you on so much.
'I know you're nothing more than a cock slut,' Jackson whispered in your ear, the hot air sending chills over your spine. With his free hand, he undid his belt and button, revealing his boxers underneath. The black fabric was doing a very poor job of keeping him in, and even the waistband wasn't strong and high enough, his tip almost poking out from underneath.
'You want me?' he asked you, his hand still on your throat making it impossible to answer properly. Instead, you just mewled and tried to nod. You wanted nothing more than him. Wanted him everywhere. Wanted everything.
'Then get on your fucking knees,' he spoke, letting go of you. Immediately you jumped from the desk and got down on your knees in front of him. You opened your mouth obediently, sticking out your tongue and looking up at him, showing that you were ready.
'So obedient,' he murmured, as he stroked your face with his thumb. 'You're obsessed with me aren't you?' he asked, his eyes slightly glazed over with lust, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. His question caught you by surprise and for a moment you didn't know what to say. Apparently, the moment took too long, because Jackson grabbed your jaw harshly, and said, 'Answer me,'
'Yes,' you admitted truthfully but slightly embarrassed. Jackson smirked satisfied, letting go of your jaw and putting his thumb in your mouth. You instantly started to suck on it, letting your tongue caress it.
'You'd do anything for me, won't you?' he asked almost lovingly but still with an undertone of that animalistic drive. You hummed agreeing, all thoughts from your mind as you kept on sucking his thumb. Jackson smirked again cockily.
'I'm going to enjoy ruining you so much,' he growled, suddenly withdrawing his thumb from your mouth. He grabbed your cheeks between his index and thumb and squeezed, forcing open your jaw. With his free hand, he finally took out his cock from his underwear. You had always suspected it, but he was packing. Especially the girth of him was almost scary. Your heart started pounding wildly at the thought of taking him.
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