#that movie has a special place in my heart okay?
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𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | 𝘯𝘩13 ♔
➪ summary: in which y/n has a huge crush on nico and lets it slip during a couple of interviews or 2 interviews where y/n talked about nico and 1 interview where he spoke about her
➪ warnings: gross foods, gagging/throwing up
➪ word count: 2.4k
➪ file type: fic
➪ sunny's notes: the first ever nhl fic i posted on tumblr. this holds a special place in my heart <3 thank you for everyone who has been here from the beginning (editing this was rough)
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⟹ Interview One: Jimmy Fallon - Mad Libs Theater -> reference video: mgk mad libs
“Welcome back, I’m hanging out with y/n y/l/n! Her new album is streaming everywhere, Apple Music, Spotify, you name it. Uh, y/n I want to do something fun with you and act out a dramatic scene, but first, we have to fill in the blanks. It is time for Mad Lib Theater.”
The intro of Mad Lib Theater plays and y/n readjusts herself on the seat to look at Jimmy, “Alright. So here’s how this works. I’m going to ask you for some silly words - nouns, verbs, adjectives, et cetera - and they’ll all be written onto our cue cards here, as we’re doing this. And then we’re gonna act out a dramatic Mad Libs scene. Are you ready for this?”
“Thank god I went to fourth grade.”
Jimmy laughs along with the audience and uncaps the marker, “Okay. Here we go. I want a noun that starts with a C.”
“Candle.”
“Candle’s good. Adjective.”
“Sweaty.”
“Type of bug.”
“Mosquito.”
“Animal.”
“Elephant.”
“A chain restaurant.”
“Chipotle. I used to work there.”
“Chipotle?”
“Yeah.”
Jimmy continues, “Noun.”
“Jersey.”
“Like New Jersey or a sports Jersey?”
“Oh, uh New Jersey.”
“A kitchen appliance.”
“Spatula.”
“A plural noun.”
“Buildings.”
“Sophisticated.”
“I know right.”
“Another animal.”
“A yack.”
“One of the Seven Dwarfs.”
“Dopey.” She looks into the audience and winks.
“Celebrity name.”
“Sabrina Carpenter.”
“Name me a number,”
“13.”
“Just 13, 13-”
“1386.”
“Type of profession.”
“Hockey player.”
“Hockey player? Okay.”
“Wow! Speed round. Here we go. Another plural noun.”
“Mooses?.”
“Uh, okay. Body part. Watch it.”
“Elbow.”
“Phrase that you would say if you bumped into Leonardo DiCaprio on the street.”
The audience starts yelling, lots of fans of y/n knowing how much she loves this movie as it takes her no time to come up with an answer, “Why did you let go, Jack? You should have stayed on the door. You should’ve got on the door.”
“Why did you let go, Jack? There was room for you on the door.” Y/n repeats herself for the man as he writes down her answer.
“Another noun.” Y/n’s flustered, “You do this one.”
“Burrito.”
“Burrito, okay.”
“Type of drink.”
“Bloody Mary.”
“Another celebrity.”
“Elizabeth Olsen.”
“Verb ending in i-n-g.”
“Slaying.”
Jimmy busts out laughing, “Slaying. This is fun doing Mad Libs with you.”
“What would you shout if you sat down in a wet seat?”
“Fudge that’s wet.”
“‘Fudge that’s wet?’ I love you.”
“First concert you ever attended.”
“Madonna.”
“Wow. Madonna. You know what, that makes sense.”
“A professional athlete.”
Without any hesitation, y/n blurts out, “Nico Hischier.”
“What?”
Y/n hides her increasingly growing red cheeks, “He’s my favorite hockey player. He’s the captain of the New Jersey Devils.”
There were some hockey or Devils fans in the crowd and they let out a couple of cheers. Jimmy wiggles his eyebrows at the girl before continuing, “Another verb ending in I-N-G.”
“Blushing.”
“Yes, very good. You’re blushing right now.”
Y/n laughs, “Two words that rhyme.”
“Swiss. Kiss.”
“A long, silly word.”
“Iridocyclitis!” A man shouts from the audience.
“What?!
“Is that a disease? Is that an actual-”
“Yeah, what is that?”
Jimmy attempts to spell out a word.
“Iridocyclitis. Yeah, of course. Alright, now, we’ve filled out the words for our scene. Good look to our cue card. So sorry, Roman. Are you ready to perform our scene?”
“I don’t know now.”
“Let’s go, let's do this.”
『••✎••』
Jimmy and y/n stand on the building after coming out in superhero costumes, “Am I green?”
“No, yeah, you’re green. Yeah, you’re green. I’m red.”
“Candle girl! What are you doing here?!”
“Oh, hello, Captain Stinky.”
“Please call me by my nickname, Mr. Mosquito.”
“I’m here for the same reason you are here - to rescue the elephant stuck on the roof of this Chipotle.”
“I knew there was trouble tonight when I saw my signal in the sky- a light projected in the shape of… New Jersey.”
“Well, using our powers this rescue should be simple. I’m faster than a speeding spatula, and everything I touch turns to buildings.” Y/n says before Jimmy responds, “I have the agility of a yak. And when I get really dopey, I turn into Sabrina Carpenter.”
Y/n starts laughing, unable to control herself, “Wow. I must tell you, my back story is complicated. When I was 1386 years old, I was… I was once bitten by a hockey player.”
She then spits out more laughter and doubles over to hold her stomach, “Oh my- Oh my god. And ever since, I’ve been able to emanate mooses from my elbow.”
“Why did you let go, Jack?” Jimmy holds his hand out before y/n places her own on his shoulder, “I know. It’s amazing, but with great power comes great burrito.” Both of the two laugh before controlling themselves and continuing the scene.
“Your story reminds me of my own. I became a superhero after I fell into a tub of radioactive bloody Mary. But listen. We must complete this rescue. In the trapped elephant’s collar, there’s a USB drive that contains images of Elizabeth Olsen slaying.”
Y/n snorts and covers her mouth quickly before laughing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought it’d be much worse.”
“And as a warning, I do have one weakness.”
“What is it?”
“Madonna.”
“That’s okay. Just remember what Professor Nico Hischier told us. He said if we’re ever in a situation like this,” Jimmy pulls out a gold button, “You press this button, and we will both immediately start blushing. Here we go.”
Y/n laughs and the two start slapping their cheeks for them to redden, “Our blushing is causing the elephant to be saved.”
She looks at Jimmy and then the cue cards and shakes her head, “Swiss kiss! We did it!”
“Yes, let’s high-five and say the secret superhero catchphrase on ‘three’. One, two, three.”
They both squint in an attempt to read the word, “Iri-dira-calaptus.”
“Dude!”
“Yeah!”
“And scene!”
The two laugh as the scene ends and Jimmy tries to get his words out, “My thanks to y/n y/l/n.”
❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
⟹ Interview Two: James Corden - Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts -> reference video: sygofyg w/ ewan mcgregor and niall horan
The theme music plays as the camera cuts to James, Ewan, Niall, and y/n sitting at a table with a rotating top and a bunch of food laid on it.
“Okay. so let’s take a look at the food that we have here.” James proceeds to spin the top of the table to showcase the food, “We have a salmon smoothie. A beef tongue.”
Ewan sticks his tongue out and makes a noise causing y/n to laugh as she holds her napkin up to her face, “This is disgusting.”
“Bird saliva.” The audience yells in disgust and Niall makes a whiffing motion with his hands, “The smell just gets stronger and stronger.”
“A scorpion. Fish head. Hot sauce. “
“Is that safe to do hot sauce?” Ewan asks as he looks towards James, “We’re gonna find out.”
“And finally, bull penis.”
“Yay!” Y/n claps.
“So here’s how this works. Ewan and I will be asking questions to Niall and y/n. Now if someone on your team chooses not to answer their question, you both will have to eat the disgusting food. Have we got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, Niall-” y/n cuts in quickly, “I’m already mad.”
“You’re up first. Niall, I am going to give you-”
Niall points to one of the foods, “Please don’t do that. My acid reflux will freak out.”
“Please don’t. Not the scorpion.”
“The salmon smoothie.” Y/n squeals.
“Here is your question, So if you answer the question you don’t have to eat, if you don’t answer the question, you both have to have a big glug of the salmon smoothie.” Niall laughs, “I don’t know what I’m more nervous about, the question or the smoothie.”
“Well, I’ve just seen the question and I think it might be the question. Niall, who is your least favorite member or One Direction?”
Niall swears but the bleep covers it as he goes to clink smoothies with y/n. Y/n looks at him, “I think you should drink, I am not your publicist, but I don’t know that you should.”
“I think I might just take the daily mail hit tomorrow, and throw out a crap answer. I’m trying to help y/n.” The said girl laughs and hits him, “If it’ll help you out, I’ll drink it.”
“Don’t think of your teammate, think of your life.”
“What do you think, Niall are you going to go salmon-”
Y/n places the napkin around Niall’s neck to make a bib, “Yeah for future life, yeah, I think I will go with this.” The two pick up smoothies and drink them, well attempting to drink them.
James hands them spoons and they both put them in their mouths. Y/n immediately gags and goes to spit it in the trash, getting some in her hair. James and Ewan immediately burst into laughter as they watched the two.
Ewan looks at y/n, “Are you alright?”
“It is not so much the taste, it’s the texture. It's like having salmon yogurt.” James looks at y/n, “Oh and there is some in the hair to keep for later. Right, so now y/n, you will ask your question to me.”
“Oh well, well, well.”
“Which would you like me and Ewan to have?”
“Have a look at the question first.” Niall leans over to help y/n, it was honestly like having a brother and sister team up against someone.
“Oh, wow. Getting tactical.”
“Oh, he is going to eat. I know– Scorpion.” Y/n turns the table so the scorpion sits in front of the two men on the other side.
“Scorpion. I think that is the easiest one.”
“Well, yeah, you say that until it is in your face.”
“Your question is, James, name one artist who you have turned down for carpool karaoke.” The crowd lets out a bunch of oos, “How long have you got?”
“Cheers mate,” James cheers with Ewan, and they eat the scorpions, seemingly without any problem.
“What is y/n going to eat?”
“I think I’m going for the tongue.”
“And it’s one each. You have to eat the whole tongue.” Y/n looks at him in disbelief and he just shakes his head, “I’m just kidding.”
“Oh, this is quite a cute one. Y/n you once said you had a favorite hockey player, Nico Hischier, is it true you might have a crush on the Swiss man?”
Y/n immediately blushes and places her head in her hands as everyone laughs, “Oh come on, this is an easy one.”
“Oh shit.” The bleep censors the word as y/n looks at the tongue, “Yes, it’s true. I do have a crush on Nico Hischier.”
The whole crowd goes wild and Niall playfully hits her on the arm, “Niall what would you like to give Ewan?”
“Ewan you’re up. Truthfully, all I’ve been thinking about is that saliva. Surely the question gets better.”
“It does. Sorry, boys.”
“Jeez, again, back to the bird saliva.”
Y/n looks at the boys, “How do they get it?” James and Ewan playfully try to mimic what they think happened.
Niall pulls out the card and y/n reads it, immediately bursting into laughter, “This is the greatest question ever.”
The Irish man looks up at Ewan with a grin on his face, “Ewan, have you ever shit your pants?”
Everyone laughs uncontrollably for at least 30 seconds, “The show is only an hour, Ewan.”
“I mean I could lie, there is only one or two people that would know.”
“I am really enjoying this.”
“Well, I guess, yeah.”
“Hang on, wait how old were you?”
“Well, I was very young at the time.”
“No, no there didn’t have any age in there, did it?” Ewan defends.
“Well, we’ve all technically shit our pants as babies.” Y/n looks at the man.
“That is all I was referring to. I might have shit my pants in the 90s one time.”
“Ewan McGregor. Spilling it.”
“Okay, Niall I am going to give you guys.”
“Please not the hot sauce.”
“Some beef tongue, are you ready? Okay.”
“I’m going to have to eat this, aren’t I?”
“Niall, you have dated both Selena Gomez and Ellie Goulding. It is your last night on Earth, who would you rather spend it with?”
“Just it doesn’t hurt anyone.” Y/n says, “Y/n’s going ‘it doesn’t hurt anyone’.”
Niall places his arm on the girl’s chair, “I’m afraid it does, love.”
“The trouble is, it’s not really your last night so someone’s gonna be upset tomorrow.”
“Okay, I would, 'cause it’s the last night on Earth, Ellie is a big fan of Planet Earth by David Attenborough so I would sit and watch that with her, and for that reason, Ellie Goulding.”
“Y/n it is your turn, you now will ask me a question and select a food.”
“You know what, you guys seem so keen on the beef tongue, giving it to us time and time again, so we will get revenge. James, you are definitely going to eat that, so have you got your knife ready.”
“Yup.”
“Which Late Night Host do you prefer, Kimmel or Fallon?”
“That’s tricky. Oh, dear are we eating this?” The two bite into the tongue and y/n gags as she watches them.
“That was Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts. Big thanks to Y/n Y/l/n, Niall Horan, and Ewan McGregor, we’ll be right back, everybody!”
❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
⟹ Interview Three: Nico Hischier - Postgame Interview
“So Nico, I hate to ask you about this but there have been these videos floating around about y/n y/l/n talking about you, have you heard about this?”
Nico nods his head as he looks at the interviewer, “Yeah, actually I have. Jack actually showed me this video and let me tell you, that was the last thing I was expecting.”
“Everyone is dying to know after she came out and explicitly stated that she liked you, do you like her, or at least have a tiny crush on her?”
“Yeah, well you know, I haven’t actually met her so I can’t say I like her but I do think she’s cute and that’s all I’m going to say about this.”
The interviewer nods, “Thanks Nico.”
#sunny lune writes#nhl#hockey#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#nico hischier fic#nico hischier#nh13#nico hischier x reader
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Just rewatched The Avengers like for the 38833782199237th time, and man I'm in tears.
#that movie has a special place in my heart okay?#marvel mcu#marvel cenimatic universe#tony stark#steve rogers#bruce banner#natasha romanoff#clint barton#thor#loki#the avengers#agent phil coulson#maria hill#mcu phase 1#iron man#captain america#the hulk#hawkeye#black widow#thor odinson
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not to be a marvel fan but oh my god
#guardians of the galaxy vol 3#look my dad and i bond over how bad the franchise has gotten okay#we see all the movies together#but my GOD#THAT WAS SO GOOD#guardians is one of the few remaining perfect parts of marvel#i also have a special place in my heart for genetics in storytelling#nature vs nurture and the terrible twisted dance between environment and genetics that makes something alive
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i just rediscovered a song from when i was growing up and now : ) i am a WRECK
#the song in question?#after a thousand nights by aqua timez from bleach: memories of nobody!!!!!!!#i'd completely forgotten about that song and i'm frikkin LOSING IT Y'ALL AHHHHHH#i was just talking to some friends about the special place that movie and it's ost has in my heart and here i was#forgetting one of the best songs ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;#cries if you see me add senna one day to my muse roster it's bc i love that gal okay she deserves the world#alright okay time to play that song a million times over and write <3#get ready to ramble | ooc#btw i would like to thank bleach and naruto for likely being the reason i love older time period settings :' )))
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☽˚｡How will your future spouse know you're their special person? ☽˚｡⋆.
As the second PAC of my collection "cliche moments with your fs", this tarot reading tries to describe the moment where your FS knows you are the person they want to spend their life with.
P1-P2-P3
01.
For some of you, your fs will realize you are their special person when they start thinking of you as family. It will happen gradually and naturally, little by little you have conquered a piece of their brain and heart.
A main scenario that appears on the cards is that they will realise you are their person when they keep picturing you as the mother of their children. They suddenly thought of it and they were like "God, Y/N is just…so perfect and good", with adoration in their eyes. They believe you are naturally nurturing and warm.
From that day on, they will want to deepen their relationship with you and take care of you even more. It's a serious decision that they make, a realisation and a promise at the same time.
It's possible that one day they have forgotten their jacket and you will go and get them for them or that they have hurt themselves with a wall or something and you kiss their hand and tell them it's okay.
The fact that you keep taking care of them makes their heart beat faster and makes their chest warm. And at the same it makes them get protective and selfish about you because "no one deserves the attention of someone as pure and good as you". They truly see you as a wish fulfilment.
Another scenario I got was a woman laughing at a beach and their partner being absolute smitten by said woman.
Channelled messages:
Russian, english, french, love at first sight, soft kisses, hand holding, red clothes, office work, 20s, office chairs, black and brown hair, Lana del Rey, fairy tales and authors (books).
02.
This scenario starts with a fs that's apathetic, hard working, cold (lacking warm) and that's not interested in love. Do not get me wrong because they are not bad people, it's just that they are a candle that has been extinguished for a long time and now warmness does not come easily to them.
With the king of swords, they are lost in their work and their logical sense, they are a soul focused on getting their business at the right position. They see love as something distant and that they cannot have, even when they just have to extent their hand and take that "cup full of love" that's presented to them. I think they do not know how to take those steps as no one has taught them. Kind of making themselves a victim there.
But, once you are in their life, you could be a really funny person and a positive presence that brightens their day. One specific scenario is that they could not have laughed in a long time and when they are speaking to you, you make them laugh... and they suddenly realize that they just smile around you and that their checks had been deprived of laugh until you arrived. It's as if their world was black and white until you came along.
I'm sure that they did not even realize their romantic feelings for you at the time but they knew that they wanted you in their life, for sure. They will become quite interested in your privat life and always wait to see you.
I am sensing an office love in this pile with a grumpy co-worker but it's a general reading so just take this if resonates.
Channelled messages:
Meeting in bright rooms, a place with windows, Excel and numbers, Rome and Italy, vintage clothing, Crimson Peak (movie), The hunger games (book), Azul by Rubén Dario, Studio Ghibli, Romanticism.
03.
The first card that you got was the lovers so they realize you are their person, probably, the first time they see you, and as typical as it sounds, you both are struck by cupid's arrows. (This is prominent for those who have blond hair)
They will like your hair and smile, they will randomly think that your hands are soft and a bit cold. They will think about your smile for days on and if you were wearing thigh clothing...well, let's say you have a nice chest.
I think you both were introduced by an acquaintance, an old (in thier 40s-50s) man or woman in the street or at your work.
However, it's not that easy because your future spouse is extremely nervous around you, it's that new crush energy where they are smitten by you.
I think they have trust issues and they had their heart broken in the past and they keep trying to surpass all of those paralizing feeling while meeting and getting to know you better without giving you any signal that they are extremely interested. They will put effort to beat their own fears for a chance to meet you, I think their friends will support them while they get to know you.
Channelled messages:
Romeo and Juliet, yellow, the moon, orchids, Ireland, the police, 10 things I hate about you, the sea, Greece, bulls and butterflies.
#tarot#pac#pick a pile#pearl#tarot reading#astrology#free tarot#love tarot#pick a card#future spouse tarot#love reading
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Steal My Girl
Ethan’s roommate has the girl of his dreams, and he hates it.
You laughed, then screeched when Chad picked you up and spun you around.
“Chad put me down.” You demanded, rolling your eyes at his antics. He had a crush on you and constantly flirted, but it served more to annoy and amuse you than to win you over. “Oh my god. Stop.”
“There you are!” Chad exclaimed, still keeping you over his shoulder as he spoke to someone out of your line of sight. “Ethan, my man.” Your stomach twisted as you peered around Chad’s waist, seeing an upside down version of your friend.
“Hey E.” You laughed, waving and staring at his outfit. “What the hell are you dressed as? A robot?”
“I’m a knight.” He sighed and Chad finally put you down but swung an arm over your shoulders. “Chad didn’t give me much notice so I could get a costume.”
“Look at this snack.” Chad told you, pointing at Ethan. “I’ve been trying to find him a girl all night. Got any suggestions?”
“Ew, get off me.” You wrinkled your nose, pushing him away. “I’m not helping prostitute Ethan off on some sorority sister.”
“Suit yourself.” Chad said, grinning down at you. “Speaking of hookups, though,” he lowered his voice, playing with the strap of your dress. “Wanna go upstairs?”
“Ugh.” You moved away towards Ethan, grabbing your friend’s hand. “Save me from him. Please.”
“My heart longs for you, Y/N!” Chad yelled, making your face warm when several people gave you a curious glance.
“I need a drink.” You told Ethan, grumbling a curse under your breath.
-
You and Ethan had gotten tipsy fast and now stood in the kitchen, laughing as he told you a story about…what was he saying?
“What?” You asked, leaning closer to him to hear. He seemed nervous, but then he always did around girls. You thought nothing of it. “Speak up, E.”
“I was saying you look really pretty.” He smiled shyly, pointing to your outfit. “Your costume is cool.”
“It’s a dress, E. Nothing special.” You said, grinning, but still felt flattered. “I like your cardboard robo-suit too.”
“A knight. A knight.”
“Y/N.” You turned your head and met Chad’s eyes, his smile warm and friendly. Despite yourself the alcohol made you looser and you allowed him to take your hand. “Come on. I need a partner for beer pong.”
“Ask Tara.” You laughed, tugging your hand out of his grip. “I’m talking to my baby boy Ethan.”
“Your son can fend for himself.” Chad scoffed, raising an eyebrow at his roommate. “Can mommy and daddy leave you on your own, or do you need a babysitter?”
“Oh my god Chad.” Your grin was wide as you looked at his expression, his features filled with fake concern.
“I need my girl to annihilate people in beer pong. Do me a service, bro.”
“Yeah that—” Ethan glanced at you, then quickly away. “That’s fine. I don’t need a…a babysitter.” He winced and you frowned, opening your mouth to say more, but Chad was already pulling you away. You looked over your shoulder though, and saw Ethan looking dejected, before he pushed through the party and towards the door.
“Wait, Chad.” You said, pulling out of his grasp as you shoved your way through the party. “Ethan!” You called. “Ethan wait!”
He turned his head at your approach, brows furrowing as you slipped out the front door, his feet pausing on the driveway.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, panting slightly. “Aren’t you going to watch me win? You know I’m the best.”
“I’m tired.” He said, eyes sweeping across your face. “I think I wanna go home. But thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Wait, no—” You grabbed his arm, unsure of why you were desperate for him to stay. “I’ll come with you. We can go to my place and have movie night like we used to.” Before you’d started receiving attention from Chad, you didn’t have to say. “Come on E.”
“I’m not sure if that’s—”
“Hey, what the Hell?” Chad asked, leaving the house and approaching the two of you. You let go of Ethan’s arm as he made it to your side. “You okay, man? I was just about to make you a Chad Supreme. He said, referring to his noxious concoction of tequila, vodka, Malibu, Sprite and fruit punch, a drink you secretly called Alcoholics Anonymous behind Chad’s back.
“Im tired.” Ethan said, avoiding your eyes. “Im gonna go—”
”Watch a movie with me.” You interrupted, giving Chad a wide smile. “Make me a Chad Supreme to go, will you? There’s empty water bottles in the kitchen.”
“You’re not staying?” He asked, confused. “But you..” He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Fine. Just because you’re so hot, and you know I love you. One Chad to go.” He turned and dashed back into the house as you valiantly ignored his strongly worded remark.
“Listen,” you said, glancing back at Ethan, who was watching where Chad had ran off to with a pained sort of look. “we’ll get pizza and do pickle shots and watch Stab. What do you think?”
Ethan took a moment to respond, biting his lip, before he nodded.
“I’m gonna need at least half that Chad Supreme, though.” He said, glancing at you with amusement in his brown eyes. “After hearing Chad call himself daddy I think I need a healthy blackout to make me forget.”
“Do you need a babysitter?” You teased, grinning as you reached out to flick his nose, and he caught your wrist in his hand.
“Listen here, young lady—”
“For the angel present." Chad declared, jogging up to you and passing you a bottle filled with suspicious looking pink liquid. "Keep your junk wrapped, E., if you’re planning on making moves on my girl. Y/N, are we still getting Dunkin in the morning?"
"We'll see." You responded, rolling your eyes. You still weren’t sure if you liked him calling you my girl. "Goodnight, Chad." You batted him away when he attempted to kiss your cheek and he grinned, running back into the party. "God, he's a mess." You scoffed, turning to give Ethan comically wide eyes. "Ready to go?"
-
You placed your head in Ethan's lap and stretched out on the couch, your skin practically buzzing. You two had split half the Chad Supreme, leaving the rest in the fridge, but you were almost certain you were going to have a headache in the morning.
"We need to chug water." You said, peering up at Ethan. He smiled and played idly with your hair, his eyes moving back to the movie. You were halfway through Stab, a pizza split between the two of you. "Hey E?" You asked, staring up.
"Hmm?"
"What do you think of me and Chad?"
His face dropped a fraction and he shrugged.
"I think he's...Chad." At your no-nonsense expression he laughed. "What? If you're happy with the ridiculous frat boy types, you do you."
"Shut up." You grinned, poking him in the stomach. But then your smile fell, and you bit your lip. "I think he really likes me. But I don't think.." You looked up at the ceiling, unsure of how to say it. "I don't like...just him. You know?"
"You don't?" Ethan asked, shooting you a surprised expression. You shook your head no, and a tentative smile pulled on his mouth. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Ugh." You groaned, sitting up and moving off the couch into the kitchen. "Forget it. It's unimportant."
“Hey, wait, tell me about him.” Ethan laughed, following you into the kitchen. You both were tipsy as hell and he grabbed your hand, tugging you back towards him. “Come on. Best friends don’t keep secrets, right?”
“He’s—” you glanced down at his hand, your stomach twisting when he ran his thumb across your knuckles, making no move to let go. “it doesn’t matter, E.”
“I wanna know.” He insisted, his brown eyes soft and sleepy from the alcohol. “Come on, Y/N. I can keep a secret.”
Your smile was wide as you pulled away, backing up towards the fridge. He followed you every step, his brown eyes glued to your face as he subtly admired you, your indifference something like a knife to his gut. He liked you. God he liked you. And if you were going to have a crush on someone besides Chad, he wanted to at least put a face to the name he was going to resent.
“Tell me." He said again, watching as you pulled the Chad Supreme out of the fridge and took a sip. "Come on, how bad can they be?"
"Ew." You wrinkled your nose, passing him the bottle. "Drink first. Then guess."
Ethan took a swig, holding eye-contact, before setting the bottle on the counter.
"Do I know the guy?" He asked, searching his brain. There wasn't a single other guy in your friend group, nor anyone that he saw you with on a regular basis. A mischievous little smile curled on your lips as you nodded, then your eyes widened, surprised, as he moved forward and touched your chin, tilting your face up to his. "What does he look like?"
"He's...really cute." You admitted, biting your lip as you stared up at him. "And he's really smart."
"Tell me more." Ethan laughed lowly, moving closer to you and backing you up against the kitchen counter. "Would I like the guy?"
"I..." You swallowed, your hand reaching out involuntarily to clutch the fabric of his shirt. "Well he um...he's really kind. He's always there for me." Then you grinned. "But he has horrible taste in movies. I always have to pick them out."
Ethan rolled his eyes, looping his arm around your waist. Your heart was pounding in your chest, stomach twisting as he spoke, his hand moving from your chin to clasp the back of your neck.
"And do you see yourself...being with this guy?"
"I don't know." You said, searching his brown eyes for any hint of what he was thinking. You'd never seen him act so confident before. It was like every ounce of shyness had gone out the door since the moment he'd stepped into the apartment. "I'm hoping he'll make the first move."
Ethan stared for a moment, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, before he asked, "and are you...really into this guy? Like more than Chad?"
"Yeah." You licked your lips subtly, but his eyes still caught the movement. "He's all I can think about sometimes."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Ethan asked, moving closer, his jeans brushing your legs. "Tell him how you feel." His voice was low and raspy and you almost shivered. His hands slid to cup your face and you couldn't breathe; you stared at him, eyes slightly heavy, as you glanced from his mouth to his eyes.
"Ethan..." You whispered, eyes closing at his words and the feel of his hands.
“Tell him how you feel, Y/N."
"I can't." You whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. He was hardly two inches away, and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating. "I'm scared."
Ethan's breathing seemed unsteady as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, murmuring a soft, "What's there to be scared of?" As he peered down at you.
"What if he doesn't want me?" You asked, glancing up at him. Still, though, you reached out, fisting his shirt in your hands and pulling him an inch closer.
"I..." Ethan's mouth went slightly dry as he watched you. "I think he does."
You stared up at him, heart pounding, and, before you could change your mind, leaned up to kiss him, pressing your mouth to his with as much force as you dared. Ethan's fingers tightened a fraction on your jaw as he kissed you back, making a low noise of pleasure against your mouth.
"God, Y/N." He whispered, his hands sliding into your hair as he kissed you again, then again. "I've wanted to do that for way too long now."
"It's you." You whispered, chasing after his touch. "It's you I want. Not Chad."
"I was hoping you were talking about me." He laughed, resting his forehead against your own. "This was going to be really awkward if I was touching you like this and then you said you had a crush on Tanner from Econ."
You laughed and tugged his face down to yours, kissing him again.
"We still have pizza. And Chad Supreme. And Stab." You said, looping your arms around his waist. "Wanna go?"
"Yes." He said, then gave you a coy smile. "Text time I see Chad, I'm calling you my girl."
#ethan landry fanfiction#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry#ethan bailey#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry x you#scream six#scream 6
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♡ Your Venus sign + your love language
“Take my hand, take my whole life too, cause I can’t help falling in love with you"
Aries Venus/1s house: your love language is being a dog and run after your toy (hahahaha). Love to play and flirt with the one you like also A LOT of physical touch.
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Taurus Venus/2nd house: your love language is being the "rock" (not the actor lol). Because you love to spend money and provide stability to your lover from romantic diners to a safe home.
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Gemini Venus/3rd house: your love language is brain stimulation, you will always find ways to communicate with your lover and have beautiful conversations with them.
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Cancer Venus/4th house: your love language is being a “teddy bear”. Being there for your favourite person and love them with all your heart.
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Leo Venus/5th house: your love language is admiration. When you are in love you just admire every little inch of ur lover and you never forget to tell them how special they are for you.
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Virgo Venus/6th house: your love language is being a “nurse”. You will always provide with help of any kind cause you want to see your love being healthy and be better.
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Libra Venus/7th house: your love language is be a "flirt ball". You will flirt so much and compliment your lover so much. Probably also love to spend and do a lot of things together.
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Scorpio Venus/8th house: your love language is physical touch (you know what I mean) and obsession. You want your lover to be a part of you and be connected for ever.
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Sagittarius Venus/9th house: your love language is being "I just want get high my lover" (not the way you think of it). You will love to explore the world and ideas with your partner. Be free and maybe say "how about get the bus and find new places together"
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Capricorn Venus/10th house: your love language is "I’m the boss”. Yeah you have love inside of you and u will show it with spend money on ur lover and probably want both of you being successful.
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Aquarius Venus/11th house: your love language is "I want a friend". You will treat your lover as your bestie so a lot of communication and crazy ideas. Team work and freedom for sure.
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Pisces Venus/12th house: your love language is "devotion" (alternative: delusion). You will die for your love, you will do anything for them and love them with last bit of your body.
Thank you for reading ♡
My masterlist
Okay guys I was watching the conjuring movies and who ever have seen these masterpieces knows damn well how beautiful is the romance elements in them😭and I got inspired by them to write this blog so I hope you really liked this as much as I did even tho it has been done multiple times.
Stay healthy and peaceful luvs ♡
#astrology#astrology notes#astrology observations#natal chart#air signs#water signs#earth signs#fire signs
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simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages
masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??
there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.
i. words of affirmation
initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.
and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.
most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.
ii. gifts
he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.
and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)
all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”
iii. acts of service
simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).
from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”
and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.
iv. quality time
such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.
he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.
v. physical touch
simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.
but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.
from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”
#ghost cod#call of duty x you#call of duty x reader#call of duty imagine#call of duty imagines#call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost#cod mw ghost#simon ghost x you#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#task force 141 x y/n#task force 141 x reader#task force 141
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ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞
💿 ; uh-oh... did he really forget your special day?
ot7 idol!riize x afab!reader ( 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 .ᐟ )
📨 requested by anon !! ≈
contains: fluff, cussing, vv light-hearted (i think), some are funny —i tried
- - - - - - - - - - - more under the cut .ᐟ - - - - - - - - - - -
shotaro - “the cold never bothered me anyway~”
When he got home from dance practice, he was exhausted like he'd always be after a long day of work, dragging himself along the considerable space of your apartment, and letting his body fall into the sheets. “Get up, your sweat is getting all over my sheets! I just changed that!”
Your passive aggressiveness wasn't so passive anymore, and he'd bring himself to stand up. He just stood there, eyeing your figure pacing around the room. You finally looked into his lost eyes, “I'll change them for you.” he says.
You thought he had texted you earlier that day that he'll see you that night because he had a surprise, but his behavior could say otherwise. “Jerk.”
“Wait, what did I do?” he tried to reach for your wrist, your soft hand. “Lovely?”
Thankfully, the calendar was hung by the door, and when you slammed it with all the force you had, the calendar would fall. He picked it up and hung it back, then he saw the date. Shit. It even had a doodle of a little birthday cake on it.
Your body was slumped on the couch, and suddenly you'd feel a pair of arms snaking down your body, both of which you pushed away but he persisted. “I'm sorry lovely, please let me make it up to you.” he had his face buried in your neck from behind, he left a little kiss, and an electrifying feeling.
The night would end up with the two of you in bed, getting all comfy and cuddled up, and for good measure, you made sure he wore the thing —the thing he seemed to despise so much and swore you'd never catch him wearing, ever— whilst you had a studio ghibli movie marathon, and of course before that you had to have a little photoshoot.
“Pose for the camera Queen Elsa!”
“This dress is a little itchy, did you even wash it?”
“Did you even remember my birthday?”
“Okay, sorry. You win." Still, he gives you the sweetest smile he could pull out, and at the end of the day you'd be all cuddled up in bed, the zipper of the dress he wore opened all the way so he could comfortably lie himself, your arms around his neck and his around your waist. He'd let you bury yourself into his warm embrace, placing a tender kiss on your forehead that lingered for long until he softly uttered, “I'm really sorry lovely, I shouldn't have forgotten, happy birthday.”
“It's okay, I know you have a lot on your mind, you have a come back to prepare for after all.” Even with your serene voice, he'd still feel guilty for having forgotten your special day, and it would be the sweet sounds of your lips moving against each other in the same rhythm that'll relieve you both of the negativity.
eunseok - “open the door.”
He was feeling uneasy all day, but he had to hide it since he was in a fan meet —well, meeting fans. Behind all his smiles and heart poses, there was an itch in his brain he couldn't quite pick up on. Oh, right, my girlfriend's gonna be here —he'd skillfully and discreetly search for you within the crowds of fans. He knew he would have spotted you easily for being so fond of you, but you weren't there. Odd, he figured he should just wait for you to pop up next to one of his fansites. But the day has already ended and he still hasn't seen you.
Finally he got to check his phone. He'd finally caught up to the ant that crawled around in his mind. He tried messaging you a little, hi birthday girl —and with a cheeky expression on his face, he'd add, you're hotter than the flames on your birthday candles —you left him on read.
It was easy for him to explain that he had work, and you knew, because you said you were going to be in that fan meet. But unlike the last time where he greeted you happy birthday first thing in the morning, you pretty much concluded that he forgot. He did have plenty of time to greet you before the fan meet, so why didn't he?
When they got back to the dorms, he made sure to call you as soon as he had locked himself up in his room. “I'm really sorry princess, I wish I could've seen you today, why didn't you come?”
“I did… oh my God you don't love me anymore.”
“NO, there's no way… I'm really sorry, step on me, use me, abuse me—”
“I forgive you, stop.” Your laughter, filled his ears, and it was all he needed to hear. “And how bold of you to assume I had a birthday cake.”
He'd laugh for a bit, then suddenly he'd reply with a stern voice. “Open the door.”
“Are you outside?” He kept himself eerily quiet on the other side of the line. “Eunseok?”
“No. But I got a cake delivered for you.” —it was a cake of your favorite character, and a little note was stuck to it, see? you're definitely hotter than your birthday candles (there's actually no candles lol the shop ran out :D).
sungchan - “good morning, baby.”
You were already used to your boyfriend's frequent absence, he is an idol after all, and despite that fact, your love for each other is inevitable. He was out of the country for a music video shooting, he had told you the full details, given you updates, and even promised to call you so in some way you could be with him whilst he explored around the tourist spots with his other group members.
It's 11:50 pm where you're at, where he was, he's probably working. You sighed, you had about ten minutes left before your birthday ended.
You sat on your bed, body pressed against your thighs, resting your head on your knees whilst you hugged them. You were all alone with your tiny projector, rewatching the episodes of the netflix series you had started with him, and promised to finish with him. You could almost feel his arms around you as you reminisced of the times when you two would just huddle against each other, him whispering sweet little nothings as you watched your shared favorite series. You'd never move onto the next episode without him, so before that new episode could start, you turned it off. You went back to your spot, still sitting up, blankly staring at the white space of your wall. His presence, his touch, his voice, it would all remain a wish as your eyes slowly shut themselves, filling your vision with darkness and guiding you to dreamland.
“...miss you… I love you so much… sorry…” —the sound of his voice, it was very close to your ears, but it sounded faint. You longed so much for him that you slept through it, thinking it was your dreams, because if it was you wouldn't want to wake up for a while.
Waking up, you'd feel trapped, trapped in… “Good morning, baby.” his arms.
You stared into his eyes, they were tired, but still they displayed affection, only for you.
You gently moved his arm, and as his hold on you loosened, you sat up to check the time, 12:00 pm. “Bambi? what are you doing here?”
“We finished filming earlier yesterday.” he'd sit up too, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, very gently, he'd lay your head against his beating heart. “I kind of —forgot about your birthday.” he'd start caressing your hair. “I meant to call you before we got to the airport, but then I checked the time, you were already asleep.”
You shifted yourself, laying your side against him. He'd trap you in his arms once again, holding you so close and tightly like he'd never want to let go of you.
You look up at him, unable to hold himself back, his lips would fall into yours, the warm sensations taking over as you drowned yourselves in each other's fervor.
wonbin - “i forgot to feed my cat.”
“You give me the rest of your ice cream if he forgot.”
“Bet.”
It was a music show day for RIIZE, work, as usual. Anton and Sohee bickering wasn't anything new, but them betting over something? Wonbin knew he'd fallen victim. “What are you two betting on?”
The youngest two just stared at him, Anton bit his lip, holding back a smile. “Say Binnie, what day is it today?”
“Tuesday?” —Sohee's mouth formed a little 'o' whilst Anton rolled his eyes, shoulders drooping down dramatically. “What? it's Tuesday.”
“Wow, she should really stop with the princess treatment.” Wonbin only laughs at Anton's retort. “Happy Birthday Y/n.”
Wonbin panicked at the mention of your name around staff, mainly his worry was at that, then, he realized. “Birthday?”
“Aww, Binnie forgot.” Wonbin's mouth went agape, dismissing Sohee's teasing.
Wonbin shook his head, grabbing his phone that rested beside him on the waiting room sofa, he messages you, meet at the vending machine? :>
You'd meet him by the vending machine, you had to bring along one of your own group members so as to not raise suspicion, while also pretending to be there for nothing more than a refresher.
“Happy birthday.” he quietly utters, as he reaches down to grab the soda from the dispensing slot. He'd give you the soda, and it had a little note on it.
i love you, i hope you never forget, like how i forgot your birthday :3
You saw him suppressing his laughter, he was lucky he's adorable, and you could never get mad at him since you were in the same line of work, it was easy for you to understand. But of course, being the best girlfriend you are, you'd give your fans a little tmi in your birthday live. “How's my pet cat? Well, Binnie forgot about my birthday, kinda hurts, but pets are pets. You don't feed them, they forget.” —he was watching when you said that, let's just say Sohee and Anton didn't keep very quiet.
seunghan - “i ate shinchan twice, wink, wink.”
The bright wave of sunlight was enough for you to tell that this day was going to be the best day of your life, and it would be for as long as your friends were around. They'd throw you a surprise birthday party and you'd spend the next twelve hours playing cards against humanity and being unhinged young adults trying your damndest not to get a noise complaint from your apartment neighbors. Despite the effects of your friends' urging to continue the night with some drinking, you'd refuse because you were expecting company later that night, him.
You hadn't changed from your birthday fit, it was in your favorite colors too. You kept it on, wanting to show it off to your boyfriend.
You expected a smiley Seunghan, running up to the couch to pick you up and spin you around, peppering kisses all over your face, but when he walked through the door, his head hung low. When he looked up and met your eyes, he could only let out a frail smile. You could see his exhaustion through his eyes.
He sat down on the couch, next to you, and laid his head atop of the couch's backrest, and his eyes fell on you, then on your lips. You knew what he needed, and so you planted a soft kiss on his lips, that would later turn into a heated one. You'd straddle his hips, “What were you up to today babe? you're looking a little too beautiful right now.” he uttered against your lips.
Your giggle would cause a ruckus in his heart. It was so delightful, yet he didn't foresee it. “What are you laughing at?”
“My friends got me a shinchan cake, they told me to keep it all for myself, but I want to share it with you.” his slightly furrowed eyebrows would soon soften.
“Oh fuck, sorry, happy birthday babe.” he gives you another quick kiss. “I forgot I was supposed to buy you something.”
“Well, what is it babe?”
“Can't say, it's a surprise.”
“What if…” you leaned in closer to his ear. “... you save that gift for my next birthday and give me something else tonight?”
Seunghan was late to practice the next day.
sohee - “birthday, yes. happy, never.”
Sohee woke up in a haze, not to be that kind of person, but he definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He still had his special mc duties though, so he was up and went on about his day. Well of course, every morning would never be complete without messaging his girlfriend, good morning bub :D
But before you could reply, another message would follow shortly,
gonna be vv busy with m countdown todei, but i'll talk to u again as soon as i get off!! —you smiled. This alone was already the sweetest birthday present of all.
The thing is, it wasn't meant to be anything more than just the usual for Sohee.
He'd proceed with his job, beaming at everyone and the cameras, elated, but only because he was looking forward to hearing your voice again towards the end of the day.
“I filmed a TikTok with Taeyong, I'm so happy.” —finally, he was able to talk to you again.
“I can tell.” you chuckled, looking at his smile through your phone screen.
You were happy too, but he seemed to have forgotten something.
“I filmed a TikTok too, do you want to see it?”
“Yes! Is that even a question?” you shook your head, chuckling once more.
You showed him the video using your laptop. You held your phone close enough, flipping Sohee's view to the back cam, and he'd watch your TikTok wide-eyed. When the video was done, you flipped it back to the front cam, showing him your brazen smile. “Happy birthday bub, you're so hot.”
You laughed. “You didn't forget, right?”
“No, no!” You kept laughing, he definitely didn't forget, he's definitely not sweating buckets because you've caught him. “Okay, maybe I did —but you said in the video 'happy, never', you're happy, right? I can take a quick run to you right now.”
“I'm happy, I had fun with my friends today.”
“That's so emo of you though, suddenly you beat me at my lip sync game, lip syncing to some emo ass audio, you can't even sing the lyrics to our songs.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just kidding hehe, I love you and you're so hot.”
He took that quick run to your place, and you'd add another video into your TikTok drafts.
anton - “i'll ra-pa-pa-punch your face.”
He'd be woken up by Sungchan saying, “'Ton, we have a recording today, get up.” He'd groan softly, somehow still so worn out even after passing out for nearly eleven hours.
He sat up, still groggy. He checked for his phone, and the time, Already 9:00 am? —he'd go on about his morning routine, like usual. He got on the van with the other members, yawning like it was his last when he got it. He'd only be able to displace his drowsiness once he got out of the vehicle, scrolling on his phone. The date, recording day, and —suddenly he was wide awake.
The boys were gathered around the control booth, listening to the demo of their next title track. “Oh, and Y/n will be the co-producer for this album.” The members spared Anton a glance, as if checking up on him.
When you got in the studio, you would be warmly welcomed by the boys, all but him. He acted like it was the very first time he'd meet you. To be fair, your relationship was a secret to everyone else, and you couldn't really be open about it at work, but he acted odd. He was a wee bit distant, and a lot more reserved. It wasn't your first time working with RIIZE either, so it was odd to say the least. At some point Wonbin would ask you, “Are you gonna beat up Anton?” because your smile would diminish when it was Anton's turn to record.
When it was time to say goodbye, the boys would greet you happy birthday in chorus, Anton would bow with them, but he didn't speak, even more of a reason for you to avoid his eyes until he left. You didn't want to think much of it, and so you continued to work, staying out late in the studio with the other producers, and you'd keep working till they left —though, they wouldn't leave without wishing you happy birthday and urging you to rest and celebrate at home, but you insisted.
You'd drift asleep, head propped on your fist. You were thinking, thinking of what could've gotten into Anton, why was he acting that way?
“Happy Birthday love.” you almost jumped off of your seat, awakened by Anton's voice in the recording booth.
“Was the door not locked? how did you get in there?”
“The door was quite unlocked, I'd say.” he uttered to the microphone. “And I kind of forgot your birthday —and the present I bought.” his eyes pointed towards the gift bag that rested on the floor next to you.
“Thank you Tony, but, you could've just told me. It's okay. I was worried about why you were ignoring me…”
He rushed to answer when he saw your fleeting smile. “I just felt bad. I'm really sorry, it's stupid. I didn't want to approach you empty handed so I went back to the dorms to grab your present.” Your sudden laughter caught him off-guard. “I know, I know, it's embarrassing.”
“No, no. I just can't believe you're still in there.” he was still in the recording booth, talking to you through the microphone input.
“Well, I also wanted to re-record my parts. I couldn't focus earlier because you were boring holes into my soul.”
“Well, I'm sorry if YOU forgot my birthday.”
“Chill, I was only joking, love.”
well this kinda sucked self-indulgence at its finest (pls don't bully me for almost making anton's into a whole ass fic hehe) ; 💿
#riize#riize au#riize x reader#briize#riize fluff#riize reactions#riize scenarios#riize imagines#riize anton#riize sungchan#riize shotaro#riize seunghan#riize wonbin#riize eunseok#wonbin#riize sohee#request#Spotify
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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ oh ver, my dearest ]❜
━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹
ft. ver vermillion x f! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en
╰₊✧ since it’s your first time, he promises to be gentle┊1.9k words
contains: smut!! dom ver & sub reader┊established relationship, mentions of ver fantasizing, mentions of masturbation (both ver & the reader), first time together & reader’s virginity loss, nipple play, fingering & receiving oral, gentle unprotected sex, slight corruption kink, some praise & body worship, pulling out, pet names (baby) & true love, it’s so fluffy, mentions aftercare
➤ author's note: good god this took way too long and i had to fight the urge for ver to call the reader ‘babygirl’ for the memes because it would ruin the mood
ver vermillion is your high school sweetheart who’s also your first in everything romantic: your first serious crush, your first date, your first relationship, and your first kiss. he’s your first love, like a prince charming from the movies you watched when you were little. he’s the man you can see yourself settling down with and marrying even though you previously never thought your relationship with the busy student council president would last this long. and, of course, he feels the same way! you’re the apple of his eye and he adores you more than anything, just waiting to stabilize your young adult lives before officially tying the knot. everything in your relationship is perfect with healthy communication about wants and needs resulting in little to no fights!
except there is one thing that he keeps secret from you, that being his physical desires. he doesn’t want to rush you when you aren’t ready or make you ill at ease about something that should be pleasurable so he keeps his pent-up frustrations to himself, making use of his fist and his seemingly infinite list of dirty thoughts regarding you that he has tucked away in his mind. unfortunately, it leaves him feeling somewhat hollow on the inside once he finally reaches for some tissues to clean up after himself. doing it alone relieves the tension at the moment, but it leaves him longing for you even more. despite these shortcomings, it solidifies his resolve even more. he is, of course, a gentleman above all things. your comfort and happiness come above everything, reminding him that your first time together will be even more special when it happens.
the importance he’s placed on this moment makes it feel like a wet dream when it actually happens, not quite the first make-out session you ever had but indeed the first time he’s had you under him like this with dim lighting to help set the mood. you smell like his cologne in his oversized hoodie, notes of vanilla and bulgarian rose mixed with the scent of your shampoo that clung to your damp hair. he ran his fingers through your locks to pull your face closer to his, deepening the kiss and pulling soft moans from you in the process as you hooked your arms around his neck. he was so close to you, bodies pressed up right against each other and making you feel feverish from the inside from want and knowing that you were being wanted.
his hands began to explore your body, reaching under your clothing to trace the outline of your hips to your upper thighs. a slight whine from you made him pull back to check in on you, “is this okay? do you want me to stop?”
“n-no, please, ver… i want…” you were so ethereal and fuckable in that moment that he felt himself twitch in his pants just by looking at your pretty face, lips slightly puffy and pupils dilated with lust. he always finds you beautiful, but something about how innocent you looked with all of your cute tantalizing sounds as you squirmed from his touch had him feeling restless. “i want you."
ver’s heart fluttered and he placed one last chaste kiss before resting his forehead on yours, “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you. i promise to be gentle.” he’ll strive to practice constraint to make sure that your first time will be remembered as romantic and intimate, a step forward together to further strengthen your bond. in time when you’re more comfortable though… he’s going to straight-up ruin you— turn you into his lovely little cock-slut who’ll beg for him so sweetly… but he’s getting ahead of himself.
he’s never seen you so exposed like this, his eyes practically glued to your chest and mesmerized by what the lamplight allowed him to see. whenever he almost catches even a glimpse of you, you would hide away calling him a pervert, but you can now see that you were right even if you were joking. ver was always a boobs guy, you suppose, bringing up his hands to cup your soft breasts just marveling at their size and shape that wasn’t hidden away by a bra.
“don’t stare…” you muttered, “it’s embarrassing.”
ver simply hummed in response, slowly raising your hoodie to remove it from your upper body and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. he turned his focus back on your tits, taking one nipple between his index and thumb before following his instinct to move his mouth to suck on the other. it’s such a foreign sensation since you tend to neglect your bust when experimenting with yourself, but you now realize how sensitive they actually are as you begin to whimper from the feeling. you’re usually so quiet because you were self-conscious about how loud you could get when excited, but oh, you sounded like a song with every moan that rewarded him for his actions as he popped his lips off one hardened nub to give attention to the other.
as nice as it was, you desperately craved more stimulation to soothe the aching heat blooming in your core— not even realizing that you were beginning to subconsciously not-so-subtly grind on your boyfriend’s thigh in an attempt to chase more of the pleasure building.
needless to say, this didn’t get past his observant eyes and made him chuckle, “be patient, i’ll give you everything you want in just a moment.”
“please…” you whispered, voice strained with need, “don’t tease me…”
his index trailed from the valley of your chest to the line down your belly before hooking into the elastic of your panties, pulling them along your legs until you were fully naked on the sheets. even with your lack of clothing, you still felt hot with desire. sensing your unease about being the only one nude, he took the time to strip himself of his baggy t-shirt to put himself on display to you as well— he really is handsome with his tousled red-black hair and unblemished fair skin.
you felt his breath ghost over your heat as he positioned himself between your legs, making you realize just how wet you were even though he hadn’t even touched you there yet. while your eyes were shut tight, his remained open to fixate on your face and expressions while licking long stripes along your slit to your clit. his hands snaked around your thighs to keep you still and prevent them from twitching so much, yet your hands were a different story and reached out to grab onto the sheets under you that were becoming increasingly more disheveled.
ver wrapped his lips around your delicate pearl and gently took it into his mouth, sneaking his slender fingers to press into your hole. it doesn’t quite hurt, but it’s certainly new and had you gasping as he slid a second one in with ease. a mix of your arousal with his saliva was dripping down his chin as he began to move his digits in a scissor-like motion to stretch you out.
“you taste so good,” he smiled against your cunt, his words adding vibrations right through your core, “such a pretty pussy to match your pretty face.”
your airy moans were soon replaced with outright cries of pleasure, your toes curling at the feeling of ecstasy shooting up your spine. unadmittedly, you’ve never made it this far on your own since it always got too intense for you to continue, but thanks to your loving boyfriend, you got the taste your your first orgasm— making you choke and see stars as you drenched his fingers and mouth.
he moved away (high-key feeling proud of himself) after knowing that he prepped you enough to take his rock-hard cock, looking at up him with pleading eyes as he whipped off his mouth with his forearm— not daring to look at the bulge that formed a prominent tent and just meeting his eyes instead. he pulled himself from his sweats and pumped his erection a few times, muttering words that were just out of earshot.
“are you ready, baby?” his voice was somewhat strained with want and trying his very best not to fuck you like a feral animal right now, focusing on your comfort.
the tip of his cock prodding at your virgin entrance made you feel nervous at first, but ver’s kisses all over your face made you feel more at ease and you nodded firmly to indicate that you were ready for him. he took his time to ease himself into you with a desperate sigh, allowing you to feel every inch of him while he came back down to your level to press kisses all over your face.
he wasn’t too big to the point where you thought he would split you open, but it was certainly enough that he had to give you a minute to get used to his size. your lower half was buzzing with pleasure, his cock brushing up against all the right spots in your throbbing cunt that you didn’t even know existed.
once you felt well-adjusted, you let out a shaky breath, “you can move now… p-please… keep going…” you were so shy with the back of your hand covering your mouth as you said it, but ver was about to gladly indulge the two of you with your permission.
“ahh, fuck, you’re so tight…” his pace wasn’t too fast, mainly because he was fixated on where the two of you were connected, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy greedily sucking him in and making it difficult for him to pull out and push in. “shit, you’re so fucking beautiful, doing soo good for me..,”
all embarrassment of being too loud dissolved once he penetrated you, beginning to freely moan with the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls. he knows it keeps on crossing his mind, but god, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting— seeing you so vulnerable under him and trusting in him for him first had him suddenly feeling full of love just as he felt many times throughout the years of being your lover.
he reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours as he continued to press into you, his pace gradually becoming more sloppy with every move of his hips. the now familiar feeling of a knot tightening in your stomach was signaling your second orgasm, clamping onto his hands until it snapped. he soon followed suit after feeling you contract and spasm around him, doing a few more thrusts before pulling out and spilling his seed onto your torso.
while he could have gone for a few more rounds personally, he knew that you were spent and absolutely exhausted. he proceeded to put on his now-soiled sweatpants properly and gave you another open-mouthed kiss, wiping off the bit of drool trickling out your mouth with his thumb. “let me run a bath for you, okay baby? i’ll wash the sheets and you can sleep afterward, does that sound good?”
you nodded weakly and gratefully accepted the bottle of water he handed to you after opening the cap, watching his retreating figure head into the bathroom to fill it with warm water and probably some bath salts as well.
yep, this was definitely the man you wanted to marry.
#📜. her works#nijisanji#nijisanji x reader#nijisanji smut#ver vermillion#ver vermillion x reader#ver vermillion smut#xsoleil#xsoleil x reader#xsoleil smut
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because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)
virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)
rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)
You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.
Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.
You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.
The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.
Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.
“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.
His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”
Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.
“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”
Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”
The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.
Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”
Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.
“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.
His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.
“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”
Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.
“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.
“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.
“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”
Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.
Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.
Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.
Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.
Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.
"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.
"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.
Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.
"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."
With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.
Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.
Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.
"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.
Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.
You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.
Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.
"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.
Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.
"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.
"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.
Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.
"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.
His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.
Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.
The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.
Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.
When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.
Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.
Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.
"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.
"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.
Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.
Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.
"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"
Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.
Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.
Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.
"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.
You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.
"Who said I was done, Munson?"
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader
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Regret
Simon “ghost” Riley x reader
Summary: simons goin on a suicide mission so he tries to make his last day with you as special as possible since he can’t tell you that he won’t be coming home
Tw: angst, no happy ending, heartbreak, character death
When Simon got the news of the mission he already knew he wouldn’t be coming home, being that deep into enemy territory there was no way that he could reasonably think of, it seems Soap and Gaz had come to that realization as well there faces grim and eyes full of sadness probably thinking about how they would say goodbye to the ones they love.
“Love I’m home” Simon called out into the quaint little apartment you two had called home for the past 5 years taking in all the framed photos, the water ring stains on the table from countless mornings of sharing tea together, the divots in the couch from your respective spots, oh god how he’ll miss it, oh god how he’ll miss you. All that got shoved to the back of his mind as you came out rubbing the sleep from your eyes wearing his shirt “mmmm hi darling welcome home I ordered takeout from that Thai place I’ll go warm it up hm?” You rasped turning away only for Simon to quickly catch your elbow pulling you into his chest “Si? You okay?” You questioned looking up at him with concern as he held you close memorizing everything he could feel about you “yeah love, yeah I’m fine just missed you was all” he reassured though the confession that he’d be gone in just two days hung heavily on the tip of his tongue “aw I missed you too Si, now why don’t we go eat hm?” You press a chastise kiss to his lips turning away again.
Simon held you as close as he could that night his mind keeping him awake as you slept peacefully “I know I don’t say it often” he whispered “but your the best thing that has come out of this fucked up world, and coming home to you is the only thing keeping me goin, I think of you all the time even when I should be focused on the task ahead” he sniffed clutching you tighter “I love you so much, promise you’ll forgive me when I go” he murmured staring down at your sleeping form tucked safely in his arms where he wished he could keep you forever.
Simon was out of bed before you making your favorite breakfast his mind plagued with how he would tell you the news “mmmm that smells good” you mumbled wrapping your arms around him from behind “your favorite love just like you like it” he smiled his eyes betraying him with how he really felt, not that you could see it “I was thinkin today why don’t we go shopping hm? Then that nice cafe you always wanted to go to? Then a nice dinner at the house binging all those cheesy horror movies you like” he set down your plate next to his smiling as you dig in “that sounds great lovey, but why all that today? You leaving soon?” You questioned mouth full of pancakes “somethin like that, and what I can’t wanna spend the day with my baby?” He joked heart cracking in his chest at lying to you, you let out a little laugh shooting him your dazzling smile.
The day was beautiful and left the both of you exhausted snuggled up with each other on the couch arms and legs entangled as some shitty horror movie played “I’m leaving tomorrow love” Simon began “and I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you have access to all the bank accounts and files if anything happens” he continued running his fingers through your hair soaking in the softness “I know that Si, but you’ll come back you always do” you looked up at him confusion evident on your face “I always try love but it’s just in case” he reassured blinking back the tears “I want my baby to be taken care of while I’m gone” he caressed your soft cheek “when do you leave?” You questioned placing your hand gently ontop of his “early tomorrow morning before the sun even rises” he replied “then let’s make this a night to remember hm?” You smiled
Simon woke up the next morning pulling you as close as possible eyes drifting to his bag packed by the door “gotta get goin love” he murmured kissing you softly over and over “mmm okay Simon come back to me okay? I love you” you whispered sleepily drifting back under “goodbye my love I love you so much” he sniffed pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head turning away before he stayed “be good for me yeah?” He whispered picking up his pack, calloused fingers caressing the door to yalls apartment one last time before he climbed into the car that would lead to his death, to him never telling you he loved you again, to never seeing you smile.
Oh god how hell miss you.
#ghost#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader angst#simon riley x reader angst
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a/n: a teensy little birthday ficlet
it’s your birthday - you expect to be looked after, waited on hand and foot, treated like a goddess sent from the heavens. and you are, for the most part; seungmin tends to not do anything without a small complaint though, so your home-cooked breakfast was served to you with an exaggerated sigh, your nails were painted perfectly with a roll of his eyes, and he covered the both of you in a blanket so that the two of you could cuddle together while you watch your favorite movie with a fond shake of his head.
little acts of service accompanied by snark, as if he couldn’t catch himself loving you, or something. it’s okay, because you know that he does - the ring he put on your finger a few months ago has it engraved on the inside of the band, and it’s not like he can take back the sweet things he said to you when he was on one knee now.
and as such, with the way the day has gone you fully expect you to be taken to bed at night, laid down on the pillows and allowed to be a princess while he ravished your body with his hands and mouth. perhaps a small comment about how desperate you were, how wet he was making you, or something along those lines.
he had other plans though, evidenced by the way he pushes you to your knees near the foot of the bed after he walks you into the bedroom instead of coaxing you into the sheets.
“is my pretty girl ready for her dessert?” he asks, sliding a hand into your hair and scratching at your scalp, leaving you a bit overwhelmed. his hand sends zings of pleasure running through you, and you barely notice the hardness of the floor under your knees in favor of focusing on the way your head spins and your mouth begins to water.
this was seungmin, after all. if you had learned anything about him in the years you’ve been together, it’s that you can’t really ever prepare for him - he was always going to catch you off guard, and you loved it.
he unzips his pants slowly, each tiny metallic sound matching the drumbeat of your heart as he finally frees himself from his boxers and strokes his half-hard cock. his other hand leaves your head, resting just under your chin so he could thumb at your bottom lip.
“can you get wet for me?” he asks, the most polite thing he’s said all day to you. you know he means your mouth, and you let your spit pool up in it, but you can’t help the way you begin to leak into your underwear too. he feeds you his cock centimeter by centimeter, letting you suckle on the top of it before sliding in until he reaches the back of your mouth - not enough to make you gag, but it’s a close thing. he knows your body in and out though, knows exactly how much is teetering on the edge of too much.
“slow,” he instructs, a little breathless as you start to hollow your cheeks around him. “you want to savor your dessert right? this is a special occasion, after all.”
you groan and your eyes flutter shut, and you let the weight of him rest on your tongue. his hands weave back into your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts shallowly in and out of your mouth. you let him have his moment for a minute, sinking into a floaty haze, but it’s not enough.
it’s your birthday, and if you want to suck his goddamn cock then you will.
your eyes snap open as you begin to suck on him in fervor, a bit messy and wet but you know he likes it like that. you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before swallowing him down, pulling noises out of him that he rarely lets out unless he’s caught off guard. you pull out every move, the dirtiest licks and flicks of your tongue accompanied by you humming around his length, and you know when he gets close by the way his knees buckle a bit and his hands tighten in your hair.
he pulls you off of him with a hiss, panting as he he strokes himself off over you. his free hand cups your face and holds you right where he wants you, chin up so you're staring right into his eyes. you can see the pleasure take over his face and he whispers happy birthday, baby just as the splashes of his release coat your eyelids, the curve of your mouth, the bridge of your nose.
you’re both breathing hard as he calms down, removing his pants before helping you up your feet. he sets you onto the bed and kneads at your thighs with his big hands, leaning in to kiss you without a care in the world towards his come on your face.
“you had your dessert,” he dances his fingertips into the waistband of your shorts, toying at the lacy material of your underwear. “now it’s time for mine.”
–
“i know you said that you were my dessert,” you yawn, much later, pushing your face further into his chest that you had repurposed as a pillow. “but you did get me a cake, right?”
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#seungmin imagines#seungmin smut#kim seungmin smut#kim seungmin imagines
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TRACK N02. KAMIKAZE - CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
I love the beginnin', the moonlight is callin'
I know we'll go up, but we'll end up freefallin'
You mind if I need to come kamikaze, crash into your way?
✷ wordcount: 7.734 ✷ genre: angst, break-up, smut
✷ This work is a part of "The Loviest Time Universe" - A collection of stories inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen's album
✷ Thea's note: hi everyone this is finally out - the first installment of the loveliest time, hehe. But first let me say a few thank yous. To @ssinboo for giving this a read since the first draft and enduring my thoughts on Discord 24/7. A thank you to @dalamjisung for reading this when i thought this was too sad and nobody would read this. And a special thanks to @toruro mika you are the kindest, thank you for reassuring me when I thought this sucked and was too depressing <3 , and for beta-reading ♥ I hope you all enjoy this (even if it hurts) also seungcheol-enjoyers i am very very sorry. Kkuma 2nd appearance.
I saw you in the deep end
A shipwreck underwater
And I know I shouldn't want that
Loving Seungcheol was not an easy task, and you learned it in the hardest way possible.
Loving Seungcheol seemed easy. He crashed into your life - loudly, fast. Often, you thought about it like a car crash in a movie scene - the part when everything gets upside down, and even the glass pieces flying around look kinda magical.
But you guess, after a while, the movie scene was just a little bit too loud and possibly a security hazard for everyone involved.
A part of you really wanted to give your all, to sacrifice, to just give a little bit more of yourself to make it work, but lately, you have been so fucking tired and so alone that you don’t even have the strength to try anymore.
You loved everything about Seungcheol, you loved his laugh, you loved the way that Seungcheol made everyone feel cared for, you loved how he treated you and you loved how he loved you, and knowing all that made everything worse.
But Seungcheol had that power - he made sure to make you fall in love all over again every time he had a chance. And everything would be okay after a few hours in the same space as him, you would feel loved, he would smile, he would embrace you and everything would just feel right.
The problem was that lately, Seungcheol didn't have the time to make you fall in love with him.
If you thought about it, you couldn't even pinpoint the last time you saw Seungcheol. You know he dropped by before going overseas for his tour - four months long tour, for a quick fuck but before that you can't really remember because he was already busy with a comeback and rehearsal.
And you tried your best to keep it cool, and you tried your best to deal with it on your own - Seungcheol was a constant topic in your therapy, and you tried to understand - of course his life is more glamorous than yours, of course he has the chance to go to all those beautiful places you can only see in pictures, of course it was work.
And you tried to bite your tongue and think how much of his life he had to give up in order to be where he is now. And it is his dream, his youth, his life really - so you can't make Seungcheol choose.
You know all that.
And you try to use your brain instead of your heart. But when Seungcheol is in the same country as you, in the same time zone, and still has a problem reaching up, it still has a problem finding more than a 30-minute time slot, you know what you need to do.
You need to let him go.
It is a Monday when Cheol arrives on your doorstep, you let him in and everything seems so normal - the majority of times you two hang out was in your house, not a lot of dating outside, not a lot of going out with your boyfriend enjoying the city.
You tried to brush it off and pretend you didn't care Seungcheol didn't have a normal life, so you two could have brunch on a sunday or a stroll in the nearest mall.
"Hey baby I was thinking of ordering from that chinese restaurant god I am craving the food," Seungcheol says, crashing on your sofa like it is his own house, and it settles on you that it is almost like his second house, a hideaway, every time he had a problem he would just crash on your place. He had the keys, why didn't he open the door? Why were you always doing the job? Letting him in, let him crash into your life? Why couldn't you crash into his and set things on fire? "Baby? Are you listening?" Seungcheol calls, but you know he doesn't really care because his eyes are glued to his phone.
"Cheol I need your attention for a minute," you say, looking at him, trying your best to keep it straight, to not fall on the ground and cry.
"Okay okay just let me answer a few more texts. We are scheduling the next varieties right now so everything is a bit crazy," your boyfriend says, still not paying attention. And you ask yourself - has it always been like that?
Did Seungcheol always come into your life, create havoc, crush everything on his point of view, take everything he could get his hands on and everything you could give him to not give five minutes of his time in return?
"Seungcheol I really need you to put your phone down," you say again and you are so pathetic that you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your voice cracking up - and that's what calls Seungcheol's attention, eyes big on surprise.
"Love, are you okay? What happened?" he asks and now that you have his attention, his phone is screen down on your sofa, his eyes on you, you feel all certainty leaving your body because you miss him so much and he looks so tired your heart almost breaks because you feel like to Seungcheol you are just another thing he needs to take care of, to handle, to adjust in his crazy hours.
You feel like you are a plate spinning in the little stick, and you are about to fall down because Seungcheol forgot that he needs to spin you around.
"I'm really sorry, I-" you hiccup, and god you feel so fucking silly.
"Baby what is going on?" Seungcheol's voice is low when he tries to wrap his arms around you, scared when you don't let him do it. "Baby you are worrying me," he says again when he watches you take steps away from him.
"You don't need to worry, everything is fine."
"Clearly everything is not fine, I am back after ages, and my girlfriend is crying in the living room," he says god you wish you could get angry and pick a fight with Seungcheol but you feel so tired, you feel so exhausted.
"I-" you try to start, but you feel your legs buckle and your heartbreak. "I think we should break up."
"What?" Seungcheol because that is the only thing he can say. Seungcheol feels like he is inside a car crash like he is the one getting upside down. He feels so blindsided by your decision, did... Did you find someone when he was away, or did you just fall out of love?
"I think we should break up," you say it again, more to yourself than to him, like you are making up your own mind.
"Can-" Seungcheol paces around, he actually feels his throat close and his tongue feels like sandpaper around the roof of his mouth, he can't even bring himself to actually look at you. But he finally does, seeing you sitting on the floor, back against a wall, hands holding your own hand, elbows on your knee, and you just feel so different. Seungcheol can't actually pinpoint what seems different, but you are, and you look so tired, what the fuck happened, how could he not see this coming? "Can I ask why?"
And you scoff, Seungcheol can see your whole body moving. Everything is so clear to you and so hazed to Seungcheol is like you two are in different directions speaking through a tin can telephone.
"I don't think this is working for me I-" you try to start, trying to dry your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.
"Did you find someone else?" Seungcheol blurts out.
"What?" You ask in actual disbelief, did he-
"Are you in love with someone else?" He says it again and you can wrap your mind around it, what he wants to mean with those silly accusations.
"Thats-"
"That's ok, I can take it, you can be honest with me," Seungcheol says again, trying to brace himself for the impact, preparing himself to hear the eyes falling out of your lips.
"You know what's funny?" You say without a hint of humor in your voice, "You actually prefer that wouldn't you? You would actually prefer the idea of being cheated on, of me being guilty of falling in love with someone else than to acknowledge that may be-" you hiccup, and try to breathe even though you can't do it through your nose, "that may be I am ending things with you because i can't deal with the shit show that is your life anymore, that I can't take being a second option anymore because your life is so fucking good that only someone crazy wouldn't want to share it with you." You pick yourself up, and you feel so angry, you feel so disrespected. You look at him, and god, even though you love him you know Seungcheol can't give you what you want, he can't give you coffee dates, he can't give you holidays, he can't give you the certainty of Valentine's days and birthdays. And even though you love him, even though you gave everything you could, even though you spent months and months on videocalls or just texts, even though you felt so fucking happy when he was by your side even though it meant a delivery and a night in, he is implying that you could cheat on him, like you could find someone like you are not broken enough to think that you could never love someone again like you love him. "Guess what Cheol, you don't share anything. You just take and take until the person doesn't have any more to give you"
And he stays silent like he doesn't have anything to say. Like he is trying to understand the situation, those hazy moments after the crash when you try to make yourself come back to reality.
"I am sorry I am really tired if you could-" you start, walking to your door.
"Do you-" Seungcheol starts and when he looks at you can see the tears around his eyes and you want to take everything back, you want to say you are sorry, you want to say it was just you're feeling lonely but now he is back, now everything is okay, you can deal with going to every working related dinner or party alone and lie when people ask why your boyfriend never comes. "Do you think I could do something different?"
"No," you say voice small, looking everywhere just so you can avoid Cheol's eyes. "I really love you, I love you so fucking much, I just can't deal with your life, I just can't deal with the loneliness that comes when you go MIA between shows because you are tired, I just can't deal with whole weeks gone just because you guys are working on a new album, and I can't deal having a boyfriend only inside the walls of my apartment, it hurts so fucking much Cheol and I just have nothing else to give you." you catch your breath, and you smell his perfume, and everything looks so out of place, how can a heartbreak make you nauseated, make you feel physically ill? "And even though I love you, I wish I could bring myself to ask for it, to make you give me what I want, but I know you and I know I can't ask you for that, and I know you enough to know that if I ask for it maybe I won't get what I want in return because you can't give what I want.
When Seungcheol leaves the only thing you do is cry. Like a child, on your bed, in a fetal position, hiccuping every few minutes. You cry so much that you fall asleep while doing it. In the morning when your alarm goes off, you can feel a headache. You think you will need a lot more than a painkiller. But you pick yourself up, and go to work and you regret it. You regret it when you see a fucking bus with Seungcheol's face plastered on it - his birthday is in three weeks. You regret it when you see it again on the subway, and when you open social media the news around his new album is across it - you think you need to delete every account Seungcheol related.
You also regret when you see Mingyu's name on your phone screen. But when Mingyu calls you for the third time you know something must be wrong.
"Hello?"
"Hey can you- ok guys shut up, hi hmm” He says in a lower voice, “can you tell Seungcheol to hurry up he is a bit late we have scheduled in like 30-ish," He says across the line.
"Hm, Mingyu I really can't do that." You say almost laughing because his friends don’t call you ever, you have Mingyu’s number registered because once Seungcheol had a dead phone and he asked Mingyu to tell you he was arriving late - that’s when Seungcheol still cared you think, after that he just arrived late without telling you his schedule was running late.
"No really like it is a really important schedule."
"Mingyu Seungcheol is not with me right now you should call him-"
"Is he not? I mean he slept with you, right? Did he leave your house already?"
"No, he didn't sleep at my place last night-"
"No?" Mingyu asks and the line is dead silent before you pick yourself up and have the courage to tell you.
"Mingyu we broke up yesterday," You say in the lowest register ever, the last thing you wanted was Karen from the sales department eavesdropping on your conversation and asking if you needed a girl time.
"Why did you break up with him?" He asks and that makes your head spin a little, how did he know?
"Mingyu that's-" you breathe loudly, you want to smash the phone against the nearest surface, but you need patience, and to be honest Mingyu didn’t do anything for you to be rude, yes, you are angry but it is not Mingyu’s fault, "That's really personal I'm sorry"
"Ok, sorry, yeah I overstepped for sure," you can hear the faint voices in the background, "Do you think you know a place he could've gone to?"
"No, I really don't, I am sorry, just" your bite your tongue because you think that’s overstepping too, but you say nonetheless, "Just give me a heads up if you guys find him or if I need to worry ok?"
"Yeah, yeah."
And against everything - your rational mind and your broken heart, you call Seungcheol, because he still comes first, his well-being and state. Even if he is not picking Mingyu's call that stills a part of you that says that you are special enough to him that he may answer your calls. He doesn't. But you don't even have time to worry because Mingyu sends you a message saying that Seungcheol just showed up and he is fine.
And the reality of it crushes you. You are not the person that Seungcheol will pick up when everyone calls him, you are not the exception anymore.
What really hurts is when you think that maybe you never were.
And the feeling makes you so physically ill that when you knock on your chief's door to say you are going back home because you feel unwell and gonna try to work remotely he just says you can take a day off because you are clearly looking like a fucking truck hit you.
The first few days make you wish Seungcheol was right. You cry so much you feel dehydrated and have a non-stop headache. So you wish he was right, you wish you did cheat on him, you wish you ended things because you fell. in love with somebody else.
You don't delete his messages but you do archive the conversation because every time you open the app it is just there and the want to hover it, to go back, to look at it, to have Seungcheol back in your life is so big you ask yourself how can you carry such a burden.
When you reach the 7 days you feel like somehow you can breathe again, now crying only 25% of the time. It's painful how you get back into your routine very quickly, it makes you feel that Seungcheol was not a big part of it. The main thing you do is to just keep your phone away, check less social media - the last time his face popped up and you almost yetted the phone.
On week two you do all the things that you wanted to do with Seungcheol, alone or with other people. You go to the new corner cafe with a book and order a lot of sweet treats. You go to the movies after a day of work because why not. You drive yourself to the beach, and even though it’s not really summer, the weather is nice enough. In a way you think you are a masochist, experiencing all of those things and reminiscing of what could be if Seungcheol was by your side. But every time you come home and your empty place greets you with the memory of Seungcheol and his belongings you think that masochism would be locking yourself up in a place where Seungcheol was most present in your life.
Week three is a living hell. It's Seungcheol's birthday and you catch yourself entering a store just because something nice enough to be his present caught your attention. When you pick up your phone to ask him if he prefers leather or wool the reality crashes into you. It makes your world spin a little, and everything is in slow motion when you go back home.
It doesn't help that you still have a pair of shoes, some shirts, a few pieces of jewelry, and even toiletries that don't belong to you in your own house. You feel stupid when you cry, but you pick everything up and put everything in a box - but you still don't have the strength to contact Seungcheol and say that he needs to pick up his things in order to move on.
I'm just here for the weekend
A wordless kind of offer
And I'm hoping that you saw that
After a month you stop crying.
Even though you don't keep tabs in a tracker you know every month that passes by, and Seungcheol's box turns into a decorative item by your door.
In a way, everything you know about Seungcheol is stored in the back of your mind, and sometimes it comes back to your conscious mind like an intrusive thought.
To be honest, Seungcheol still pops up daily in your life, his voice plays in the nice book store, his face shows up in the make-up store and now he is the face of your favorite lip balm, he shows up in the tv and again in the subway, he shows up in the news and in your favorite variety show - the first time you don't actually binge watch. You know when Seungcheol is blond and when he is not, you know when his hair is long or shorter. And even if you don't want to, you keep tabs on him.
But in reality, you can deal with it, you can deal with Seungcheol's absence when he doesn't come back to make you fall in love with him.
And it gets easier.
Or you get used to not having Seungcheol in your life, seeing him from afar, or not seeing him at all. After 3 months you think to yourself that for the first time, you feel like a human again. Like your feet are back on the ground. You can walk without crunches for the first time after breaking both legs.
When it hits the six-month mark you think it is okay to remember, it is okay to think about it, it was a milestone after all. When you think about buying a cake for the one-year mark you think that maybe that's not normal.
But maybe that’s the path of healing, the ups, and downs of it, healing is not linear - you think that you saw an Instagram post about it. And you just accept it, you don’t fight anymore about how you remember Seungcheol in the silliest things, when you look at something on the street, or when you start binge-watching a new tv show. But sometimes you also don’t remember him, sometimes you can go a few days without conjuring him in your mind - but you always end up losing the game when you think to yourself how you did not think about him.
'Cause I see you
I fall back into the feeling like we've just begun
Tell me, ooh
Are you tired of being alone?
You're not the only one
When you see Seungcheol, two years later, you just laugh and take a sip of your drink. It is really crazy how Seungcheol's absence makes you forget that one of your closest friends knew Seungcheol - he was the reason why you two met in the first place.
And yet you feel surprised to see Seungcheol in the same space as you after a while. And god why do your legs buckle and why is he so good-looking?
At the same time you want to turn and run, you are so freaking obsessed with seeing Seungcheol with your own two eyes after such a long time. God. You need a drink, you need a glass of the most powerful poison, you need courage and you need strength.
But before you can turn Seungcheol has his eye on you.
And you want to run and scream when you see him walking into you.
"Hey," Seungcheol says and he too looks like he is fine with everything, and you think if it has always been like that if Seungcheol almost didn’t get a scratch when you always left with a broken heart and broken bones "I-" Seungcheol laughs. "This is weird."
"Yeah," you say drinking the rest of your drink in one gulp "They didn't tell me you were coming so-"
"Do we need to continue doing that?" Seungcheol asks and you can feel your head tilting like a damn dog, and Seungcheol's tint smile across his face confirms your suspicion- he always thought it was endearing. "Avoid each other I mean," he clarifies.
And you want to say yes because you feel so weak on your knees. You feel like you are getting pulled - physical traction makes you throw away all that you learned in the past year, making you forget how difficult it was, how painful.
"I don't know, it is not the ideal but what is the other option?" You ask and don't even wait for Seungcheol to answer you when you look around - you need another drink, you are not doing this sober, you feel yourself close to tears and you can't cry sober - drunk you at least have an excuse to bawl everything out.
"Not hating each other?" Seungcheol scoffs, and you do the same.
"Sometimes I think about how we spent four years together," you say, going to the bar with Seungcheol by your side, you order a mojito while Seungcheol just brushes the guy off. Seungcheol is so close that you can feel your brain start malfunctioning.
"Come on, I swear I didn't try to pick a fight if you want I can go I already said my wishes to the host so-"
"Is not that," You feel so fucking frustrated, you can feel your heart in your throat. "I just-" You breathe loudly, maybe you should let him enjoy the party and go - he was the one that didn't show up in two consecutive years. "Look this is not the time or the place for us to have this conversation but the point is I never hated you - I never could, and to be honest never wanted."
Seungcheol just looks at you, his eyes big and mouth agape.
And you wish you could hate him because it would be easier. And because if you hated him you wouldn't question yourself if it was the right decision, if you hated him you wouldn't be thinking about letting Seungcheol back in your life.
"Hey, hey-" you hear Seungcheol's voice behind you.
Fuck you forgot the uber, so you do your best to ignore Seungcheol and pick up your cell phone, trying to open the app fast enough just so a car teleports in the street.
"Come on I can take you home," He says and you want to laugh really, what the fuck is on his mind.
"And would I say yes to that?"
"Look," Seungcheol’s hand goes through his hair and you know he is frustrated, and a part of you relishes that, in the way that you still know him even after more than 24 months apart, "I don't know how you are doing, and this can be me being fucking egotistical, but I have been thinking you hate me for two years, so if here is not the place then we can find a place, I would say my place but that would make me sound like a jerk so-"
"Cheol," you almost beg.
"I really just want to understand what happened, fuck-" And when you look again you see Seungcheol in such a different light, he is so tired, he looks so exhausted, he looks older, but not just older he looks jaded, "It is been plaguing my mind since we broke up I can't fuck wrap my head around-"
"Your house then."
"Ok, ok. Just so you know I have a dog." Seungcheol says while guiding you to his car and you just feel a pang in your chest because you know how he went on and on about how he wanted a dog, how you two could get a dog, how if he wasn't so busy, and far away half of the time you two should get a dog.
And God you feel so sad, you can actually feel everything building up inside your body, you can feel it in your throat.
You heard and heard about the dog and you were not there, and that’s all you can think about the entire trip to Seungcheol’s house.
"This is Kkuma," Seungcheol says holding the dog up, when he sees that you are not in the mood to greet the cute creature he gives up. "Is this a mistake?"
"Probably," you say, looking at his living room - god when you two dated he didn’t have his own house. How much did you miss? How many milestones in his life were you not a part of?
"I-" Seungcheol starts, making you look at him, "I just thought we could go back to good terms you know, I've been keeping tabs on you," and you don’t know why but you feel so angry, you feel like there is something growing under your skin you can’t quite name it. "Don't look at me like that, I wanted to know how you were, how you've been doing, and when I asked about you this last time he said I could show up so I thought you knew"
"I didn't"
"Yeah, I'm sorry," he says, rubbing his palm against his pants in an attempt to dry it. "I mean for today and for everything I guess, I wasn't the best back then. I just thought-"
"What do you want from me Cheol?" You ask for the first time looking at Cheol's eyes, looking for the truth in it, searching for every little detail you can catch to make it make sense, but that just makes you crumble like a sandcastle against a wave, "I've been trying so hard- god"
"Hey, hey-" Seungcheol's hand close around your wrist, his fingers in contrast with your skin. "Don't cry please, don't cry, I always hated when you cried, hated every time I saw you in tears because of me." He says while getting closer to you, which just makes you cry a little bit more.
"I am so sorry, this was a bad idea, I can take you home if you want to," Seungcheol says with his arms around you - and god, you should've braced yourself from the impact, but you didn't and Seungcheol was just crashing into your life again.
"Yeah, and I was crazy enough to say yes to you," you say against Seungcheol's embrace and you are surprised when he picks up your muffled sounds.
"Why did you, say yes I mean" Seungcheol making space to look down at you.
"You know why Cheol," you say rolling your eyes at him.
"It's the same for me too, I guess," Seungcheol says tucking your hair behind your ears, "Maybe that's why I went after you today, fuck, that's why I talked to you really-" his lips find your forehead, and you can feel your heart in throat. You feel like your lungs are about to collapse, you can't breathe, "when I saw you I just-" He smells your hair like he used to do, his hand on your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. "it just felt like nothing had changed"
I know it sounds fatal, I know we made fires
The ending's real clear and it won't take us higher
Tonight, I might need to come kamikaze
Crash into your way (Kamikaze, kamikaze)
You know Seungcheol, you can tell, you can anticipate every step. With Seungcheol it is like you have the ability to see the future in your lids. With Seungcheol even when he crashes and burns makes you think to yourself that you can take the fire against your skin.
And you miss the feeling - to be understood even when you don't have words, when the silence speaks for you when Seungcheol just knows what you need before you ask for it. That's why you broke things up, you think, maybe you felt the most loved when Seungcheol would anticipate every and each one of your needs, and the moment he stopped you felt so unseen.
When Seungcheol's lips find your cheeks, just below your eyes, you can hear the sound of your heart-shattering. Your hands tighten against his sides.
"I missed you," Seungcheol says, his forehead resting against yours. "I missed this, missed us."
"Cheol," you beg because it is the only thing you can do, the only thing you can master.
"Let me take care of you," You can feel the way his hand goes to your nape, making you shiver, "Let me make you happy."
You just nod, because that's what you want. You want it so much that you could change the earth's axis, you could change the future and the past for it. And when you feel Seungcheol's lips against yours you think that ending the world would seem like an easy task if it was to achieve Seungcheol's love, to have his touch against your skin every day.
When you wrap your arms around Seungcheol's neck you know you are done for - you know you fell in love all over again.
And you do it because it is him, because it is Seungcheol, and he is the only one who could break your heart.
"You will, won't you?" Seungcheol says mouth against your jaw, hand still against your nape holding you in place, "Let me love you?"
"Don't say things like that," you whisper, tugging on Seungcheol's shirt.
"Why baby?" He says kissing your jaw, his hand caressing your cheek, "god, I missed this," Seungcheol says when his breath in on your neck, rubbing his nose on it. "missed how you smell," his hand holds your waist and you feel so glad because you almost melting, "missing the way you taste," he says when his tongue laps at your skin, giving you a small kiss on the kneck.
The only thing you can do is try to anchor yourself, one hand splayed against Seungcheol's back and another one tugging at his hair. Seungcheol's hand goes around you, caging you against his body, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and putting it under your shirt.
And it is just so much, the way his hands feel hot against your back, keeping you upright. The way his lips feel against your skin, wet, across your cleavage. The way that his body feels hard against yours.
It's just so much. To have all that again, you almost forget how to breathe.
Seungcheol is so big - physically yes, but his whole existence is so big, it makes you feel suffocated. Seungcheol is so big that you question yourself how you used to fit him in your heart.
But you choose not to think about it, not know. You call his name while tugging his hair, blindly searching his mouth. And you focus on Seungcheol, the way that his tongue feels against yours, the way that he holds you, the way that you feel how hard he is against your hips.
"Let me," Seungcheol whisper against your mouth before his hand found the back of your thighs and picks your up - and you do the only thing you can do, letting out a surprised noise and hugging Seungcheol. And you can feel how Seungcheol's smiles spread against the skin of your chest.
"Don't laugh," you try to scold him, hand tugging his hair again - when he let his hair gets so long? It was a newfound joy for you.
"-m not laughing," you hear Seungcheol say against your skin, his fingers dipping in the skin of your ass.
When your back hits the mattress, you feel like you can breathe again for the first time, Seungcheol's body away from yours. Until his hand is back on your hips, making your heart skip a beat and your lungs collapse.
"You are so pretty," he says when his hands travel up against your body, lifting your shirt, Seungcheol's lips find the skin of your stomach, his hand pressing on your ribcage. Seungcheol looks at you, his tongue on your skin, linking a strip of it.
The thing about Seungcheol is that he still remembers. He still knows what makes you melt, makes you hot, makes you whimper. And he does it so right that makes your head spin.
Seungcheol lifts your shirt up, pooling it against your neck. "Fuck-" Seungcheol starts again and you ask yourself how he doesn't feel tongue-tied like you, "so pretty like this," his digits touch your chest when the lace of your bra ends, and it is just so faint, you lift your chest searching for his touch.
"Can I?" Seungcheol asks and you don't even know what he wants but you are nodding. He tugs on your bra, letting your boobs free. His forefinger and his middle finger find your nipple, tugging at it lightly, making you whimper. "Always loved how you are so fucking sensitive," he coos.
Seungcheol's lips find your skin again, and the way he kisses the underside of your boob is so soft and so tender that makes your head spin a little. Seungcheol lowers his body against yours, making you open your legs a little to make space for him between them.
Seungcheol kisses your sternum at the same time that his hands wrapped around your throat, he doesn't put pressure on it. But the mere fact that his hand is splayed on your windpipe makes you lose it, make you whimper. "God, missed this too, the way you sound"
"Cheol," you want to complain but you can't because Seungcheol just licks one of your nipples, his free hand holding you in place for him to latch on it. You don't even know what to do - it is just too much, the feel of Seungcheol's hands on your body, of his mouth against your skin.
When his mouth leaves your nipple with a low pop, his mouth doesn't leave your skin. "Don't worry babe gonna give it to you," you hear his voice low and muffled, "Gonna give you everything."
"Want you-" you say tugging at his shirt. And you feel so hot all over, you ask yourself how did you survive without his touch for so long, how did you survive with your skin against yours.
"I know, I know” Seungcheol coos and you just melt against the hand he places against your face, when he kisses you again you know you are doomed. “Just let me eat you first," he says putting his lips just below your ear, his body heavy and hot against you, "Missed your pussy too, missed everything."
"Don't talk like that," you beg and you don't hear it, but you feel the way that Seungcheol's body reverberates with a chuckle - and you take the opportunity to tug at your own shirt and bra.
"I know you like it," Seungcheol says opening the button of your pants and tugging at each leg.
"I don't anymore," you say just because you feel like you need to pick a fight really. To look like it is harder to rip you apart at the seams, to make Seungcheol think it is not that easy to wreck you.
To make Seungcheol think it's harder to have you again.
"I know you do," Seungcheol says lifting your leg and kissing your ankle, and you feel if it's not normal to feel so much. "I can see you do still like it." Seungcheol's voice drops and you can see his eyes on your pussy, his knuckle pressing on it over your panties, you can see how wet it feels, and god you feel so ashamed because you want it so much, and because Seungcheol knows.
You can feel how red your skin is. Seungcheol lies between your legs. He rearranges your position, opening more your legs, putting one of your thighs on his shoulder. "Don't need to lie to me," He says before slowly biting on the meat of your thigh, his hands holding you in place when you buckle.
Seungcheol kisses your pussy over your panties and you bite on your tongue, you hold yourself back. "God, I even miss the way you smell," Seungcheol says and you feel faint - and you tug at the sheet almost crying, almost begging.
But before you say anything you feel him tugging at your panties and you don't move, you just let Seungcheol move your body to his pleasure, taking your panties off but putting your legs the same way as before.
You feel Seungcheol digits against your folds and you bite your tongue again - trying to hold back. But when his thumb presses on your clit you can't resist calling his name. "Shh, it's okay baby," Seungcheol says before his tongue is on you, making your head spin.
You ask yourself again how you survived without him.
Because with Seungcheol was just so easy.
Seungcheol doesn't ask what you like he already knows.
Seungcheol knows how to pin your hips down, with his hand splayed, because you like how strong he is. Seungcheol knows how to lick your folds, how to suck on your clit, how to tease you with his fingers.
"Can you-" you try to ask for it, but when you look down between your legs you see Seungcheol looking at you, seeking your reactions, trying to catch every little detail, and before you can ask again Seungcheol is nodding against your pussy, mouth not leaving it for a second even thoughyou are bucking your hips.
And then you feel his fingers against your entrance. And it is Seungcheol he knows how you like it, but he knows too much, he teases you first, just the knuckle against your hole.
"Seungcheol, please," you ask again, accepting that you lost the war, accepting that you can't pretend anymore because you know Seungcheol will only give you when you ask for it.
But you asked for it so he gives to you.
He starts fucking you slowly with his fingers, his tongue never leaving your clit.
You feel like you are going insane, it's just too much - his hand’s strong grounding your hips, the way that his mouth closes against your clit, the way that his fingers enter you, the way his eyes never leave yours.
And before you can say anything you are cumming against his tongue, Seungcheol laps at it like he wants to feel your taste on his tongue, like he wants every drop of it.
"Always loved your mouth." You say before Seungcheol kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue.
Seungcheol lifts his body, kneeling on the mattress, and finally takes his shirt off, "wait," you call for him, and you look at him. And god he is so fucking pretty all over. He always has been. You touch him, hands against his stomach, and you wish you can make him feel like he does to you.
You sit on the bed, Seungcheol's position making him taller than you, but it is not a problem when the difference makes it easier to kiss his pecs. And Seungcheol holds the back of your neck, his eyes again, never leaving you, making sure he sees every tiny fraction of every little touch.
You don't know if you actually forgot, or, if you just locked the memories away in a tiny part of your brain, but when you see Seungcheol so pilant against your touch - against one of your hands on his stomach, the other touching his pecs and mouth sucking at his skins it is like it's unlock something on you.
"Did you miss it?" You ask hand working on Cheol's pants, palming him in the process.
"Hun?" He asks voice low, like he didn't catch the meaning behind the question.
"The way I make you feel," you answer, hand underneath his underwear, touching his hard dick. "Did you miss it?" You ask again, looking Seungcheol in the eyes.
"So fucking much," he answers and you can see how his body reacts to every single touch you give him, you lower Seungcheol's underwear, just enough so his cock springs free - red and leaking, and God you wish you could forget how many time Seungcheol split you open with his dick, but you can't, you think you remember each and every time, "Thought about it every day."
"Can you fuck me?" You ask Seungcheol, fingers wrapped around his dick, pumping him slowly, thumb rubbing against his tip, and you can see his body twitch, but Seungcheol just lets you do whatever you want with him.
"How do you want me?" he asks.
"You know how," you say it because it is true. Seungcheol knows how to eat you, how to fuck you, how to split you open, he knows how to make you feel good, and how to make you cry.
"Come on," He says hand on your shoulder making you lay down again, and you whine because the action made you set his dick free "You asked me to fuck you" his hands wrap around your leg and make your body turn to the side.
And it is just so hot, how Seungcheol can manhandle you, can make you turn and move, but still cave into every and each one of your whims. You ask and he answers it. You ask him to jump and he asks how high.
Seungcheol lays on the bed, his front pressed against your back, his strong arms around you, his lips against your neck, his dick against your ass.
Your mind goes back to how big Seungcheol is, how he doesn't let space for anyone else.
But you come back to reality when you feel Seungcheol's dick going against your pussy. Seungcheol mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, but you are so gone that you don't actually pay attention to it.
When Seungcheol starts fucking you you are halfway there. You hold Seungcheol's arms, your nails marking his skin. "You take me so fucking well," Seungcheol says before his teeth find the flesh of your shoulder. "Do you need-" You don't let him finish, tugging at his hair, searching for his mouth - and the kiss is messy and sloppy, and when Seungcheol's fingers find your pussy again you just moan on his mouth.
"Are you-" Seungcheol asks, and you know what he wants to say in the way his hips fall in rhythm the way his other hand tightens against your ass, the way with every stroke he goes deeper and deeper. And you nod because it is the truth, you are so close to it that you feel like your bones are melting.
And you just let it hit you, let the wave of the orgasm wash over your body. And you know Seungcheol is close by the way he pants against your neck, by the way, his strong hands hold your thigh - until you feel him cum on you.
You can feel your heart beating against your chest. You can feel the way Seungcheol's dick slips off you, and the way your back feels sweaty against his chest. You squirm a little trying to put some distance between your bodies.
"Stay," Seungcheol murmurs against your shoulder while enveloping you in his embrace, tugging you closer and you do. You stay because Seungcheol still makes you fall in love with him every single chance he gets, but your mind is still wrapped around the feeling that maybe, you two, are not meant to be, one of the lovers that could be so fucking beautiful and that marked your life, that is a before Seungcheol and after Seungcheol in your life.
But, deep down you know, that you just got tired of asking for more.
Now you don't want a lover that you need to ask for it - even though you know Seungcheol would never say no to you, but for once, you think that you want someone who gives to you without being asked for.
I love the beginning, the moonlight is calling
I know we'll go up but we'll end up freefalling
#Choi Seungcheol fic#Choi Seungcheol fanfic#Choi seungcheol imagines#Choi Seungcheol smut#Seungcheol fic#Seungcheol fanfic#Seungcheol imagines#Seungcheol smut#Seventeen fanfic#Seventeen fic#Seventeen imagines#Seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#svt fic#svt fanfic#svt smut#svt imagines#t: writting#t: choi seungcheol#t: the loveliest time
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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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Papa Headcanons - Valentine’s Day 💕
Rated PG-13 for implied adult themes!
Oh my goodness, it’s Valentine’s Day! How will your beloved celebrate with you?
~💘💝💘~
Primo
Gives you a beautiful bouquet of roses grown in his garden
Surprises you with herbal tea in bed while he makes you breakfast
He arranges for everyone in the Ministry to send a secret valentine to an assigned person, so you all get a cute card or treat
He’s surprisingly very into theming so he wears a red robe and mitre that day, and eats lots of pink foods
He gives everyone a single flower, even his least favorite ghoul
Says he has a nice surprise for you later; lit candles everywhere, your favorite snacks, a bubble bath, and some lingerie for…certain activities after you relax 🛁
Secondo
Also surprises you with breakfast in bed, complete with one of those silver covers that he flourishes as if you just got fancy room service
Packs your lunch for you that day with a cute little note which you proceed to keep in your wallet for a long time
He relieves you of your Sibling job duties a few hours early and arranges for you to have a massage done by the Ministry’s massage therapist
He arranges Valentines karaoke for the ghouls and siblings, the setlist being rock’s greatest love ballads and also some Celine Dion mixed in
Bakes you a cake (or whatever your fave dessert is) and decorates it with pink heart sprinkles
His final gift of the day is flowers with some very nice jewelry…and also a new lingerie set. He wants to see you in the set wearing the new jewelry he got you, saying it’s a gift for him too and he wants to admire it
Terzo
His penis. He gives you…his penis, wrapped in a bow. “Breakfast in bed, mm?” he’d say (don’t worry, he offers to go down on you too)
Okay, okay, he actually comes back with coffee, cigarettes, and Pop-Tarts
Has flowers sent to you while you’re both at work so you’ll think of him all day (so all your coworkers/the other Siblings see what an amazing boyfriend you have)
Encourages everyone to leave work early that day so “you can all go fuck each other!”
Orders sushi takeout (or whatever you want if you don’t like sushi but author happens to love it) and has made a whole setup of pillows and blankets on the floor for you to watch cute movies while you eat dinner and snacks
Gives you naughty conversation hearts and says you have to do whatever it tells you to…they’re instructions for bedding you later
Scatters rose petals all over the bedroom, lights candles so the room looks very romantic and promises to make love to you like never before
Copia
You wake up to utter chaos - a burning smell from the kitchen and rats running all over the place. “Eh, it was supposed to be a surprise…we’ll get takeout.”
But you’ve already DoorDashed pancakes for the pair of you, because somehow you knew he’d be too stressed to handle everything
He’s genuinely very excited to celebrate Valentine’s Day so he can go all out to show you just how much he cares about you
He decorates his office and room the day before - all pinks, reds, and purples with hearts everywhere
He gifts everyone in the Ministry a cute little paper valentine, like the kind you used to pass out in elementary school
Says cheesy but sweet things all day, like asking you to be his valentine, making puns like “bee mine buzzzzzz,” etc.
Smothers you in hugs and kisses
Wants to watch rom coms with you before going to bed that night, complete with themed snacks
He bought you matching V-Day underwear
Nihil
Gets you one of those generic heart shaped chocolate boxes from the drug store
He also leaves a very mushy, sentimental hallmark card on your nightstand
“Why do we need a special day? I love you everyday!”
He doesn’t arrange anything for the Ministry as a whole but he does make sure to do the bare minimum for his partner
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