#hands down one of the best songs AND mv to come out this year

[drugsforaddicts]

MRFY - Tonemo Stream Tonemo

[sailoryooons]

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. 

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Tag Lists | Next Chapter

[lateatnewyork]

AFTERGLOW PT 1

charlie bushnell x reader

warnings: fluff, smau

fc: isabella sermon

summary: you and charlie star in the afterglow mv

a/n the 30 pic limit caught upto me so pt 2 is here

liked by ynln, iamcharliebushnell and others taylorswift surprise coming your way tonight 🤭 🩷 ps there’s gonna be cats!!!!!!! view comments

user34 NEW ALBUM???? ➔ taylorfanpage dude i don’t think so it’s coming out tonight 😭 yn.ln 👀 ➔ iamcharliebushnell 👀 ➔ sabrinacarpenter 👀 ➔ honeymoon 👀 ➔ gracieabrams 👀 hearts4yn low key why is the aesthetic so lover tho queentay CRUEL SUMMER MV?? ➔ taylorswift close but not quite

liked by percyjackson, rickriordan and others celebnews yn ln has been confirmed to star in pjo season two as silena beauregard comments are closed

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others yn.ln working in multiple projects>>> view comments

leahsavajeffries SO EXCITED TO SEE UUUUU ➔ yn.ln SAME BAEEE dior.n.goodjohn MULTITASKING QUEENN ➔ yn.ln SAYS YOU walkerscobell not u quoting my book ➔ yn.ln since when was it ur book?? ➔ walkerscobell im an og fan ➔ yn.ln last time i checked i’m older so i’ve known the series for longer ynloml IS THAT TAYLOR SWIFT IN THE FIRST PIC hearts4yn TAYLOR AND YN????

hearts4yn they’re literally dating ynfan i got butterflies watching this pjofan UM THE KISS HELLO??? taylorfanpage wish they were an offscreen couple user56 🤩 fandomedits NEW CLIPS TO EDIT???? ynismywife IN LOVEEEE user07 my three favourite people fangirl best onscreen chemistry goes to… ➔ynmyfav and offscreen ➔ lovepjo they’re not dating?? are they? ➔ charlie&yn she’s been posting a guy who looks a lot like charlie

liked by iamcharliebushnell, taylorswift and others yn.ln their first acting job was with the TAYLOR SWIFT??? view comments

ynloml stars of the mv right there hearts4yn they literally stole my heart the first time i saw them aryansimhadri i think i like ur cats more than i like u ➔ yn.ln valid 😔 iamcharliebushnell i love your cats ➔ yn.ln thought you were more of a dog person? ➔ iamcharliebushnell i can change for you 😉 ➔ yn.ln 🤭 taylorswift you should bring them around more ➔ yn.ln will do 🫡

liked by taylorswift, iamcharliebushnell and others yn.ln lil photo dump from the past month 😘 view comments

iamcharliebushnell I GOT A FEATURE??? ➔ dior.n.goodjohn you got three acc and i got none ➔ yn.ln ILL DO A POST WITH JS YOU IN IT BBG walkerscobell i’m literally so pretty user45 taylor is literally so gorgeous ➔ yn.ln realll ynloml SOMEONE NEEDS TO CAST CHARLIE AND YN IN A ROMCOM PLSSSS ➔ yn.ln that’s the dream

seen by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others yn.ln lil blue appreciation post cos i’m in pjo 🤪 view comments

hearts4yn i bought her the flowers 🤭 ➔ iamcharliebushnell erm actually they were from me 🤓 👆 ➔ hearts4yn CHARLIE ??? HELPP ynismywife that looks a lot like charlie in the last pic🤨 walkerscobell i got forced to take the last pic ➔ iamcharliebushnell u literally volunteered ?? leahsavajeffries ONE MORE WEEK TILL WE SEE U ➔ yn.ln YAYAYAYAYAAY user02 that underwater kiss is so pjo coded user56 miss js finished working with taylor swift and now is in pjo LITERALLY ASPIRE TO BE LIKE U ➔ yn.ln omg ur too kind

ALL THE REP TV EASTER EGGS IN THE NEW AFTERGLOW MV !!

The first image shows a graveyard that we saw in the background when actors Charlie and YN were walking down a path, it’s the same one from the LWYMMD music video. When they were on a date at Olive Garden (which was included in NBNC and this song has a rep feel to it) YN’s phone has new year’s day playing and one of the rings on her hand is a snake ring. The black and white colour scheme of the heart on the building is the same as the reputation colour scheme. The TS written in the sand was first thought to be a Debut (Taylor’s Version) hint but after the overpowering reputation hints perhaps it means reputation (Taylor’s Version). There was a bracelet in the background of YN and Charlie’s kiss in the mv (which took place in YN’s bedroom) where in the background there was a black bracelet among the pink colour scheme that said “REP”. The paper on Charlie’s desk littered with kisses from YN had lyrics to So It Goes… on it.

NEXT ARTICLE: ALL THE CLUES THAT SHOW CHARLIE BUSHNELL AND YN LN ARE DATING

a/n stop i loved writing this

[sthavoc]

watched ariana's new mv and was thinking maybe enzo angst where his ex writes the song + mv and he's trying to get into contact with her because he still loves her

࿔* 📞 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: desperate!enzo x singer!fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: after listening to your new song and watching the music video, Enzo attempts his best to reach out to you, but there’s no answer from you.

·˚ ༘ warnings: angst, man crying, desperation, heartbreak, feeling of anxiety.

·˚ ༘ note: I was watching the mv for the first time to get a vision and it touched my heart. imagine just being able to easily erase the memories of a person that you don’t want anymore with just a test? this one is sad for me… idk how I wrote this for enzo.. lloro

It was very clear to Enzo from the moment the relationship ended, that he would give you your space, but there would be a moment where he would try and fight for you. Didn’t matter if it took days, weeks, months, or years. The man would fight.

But his world crumbled after he listened to your new song, and watched the music video.

We can’t be friends.

The term the both of you had agreed to stay at least for the moment. Why did you change your mind? What made it different? And did you really feel like you couldn’t be your complete self around him?

Just thinking about all these questions had Enzo’s head spinning around, with nothing else in his apartment but the laptop in front of him, and your voice coming out of the small speakers. He felt the lump in his throat building with the tears up in his eyes.

He had at least replayed the video three times, going on the fourth. The last scene would hit him like a stone wall that would increase its strength after counting how many times he would come back to it. If it was possible and the naked eye could see, or even the ear could hear so very clearly the sound of his heart breaking, it would sound like a million mirrors smashing all at once. Nothing would be able to stop them apart from you.

The tear ran down his cheek, almost coming close to his lip. He was able to taste the saltiness. His knee trembled nonstop, up and down, with hands clasped in front and resting them on his knee. Debates after debates about whether he should call you or not. His phone was only next to his computer.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn't push your boundaries, but he just wanted to hear your voice and talk about the situation. So he picked up the phone and dialed your number. He let it ring. With his heart hanging on his hand and the feeling of the anxiety of not knowing if you would pick up or not.

And yeah, no answer.

“Please leave your voice message—” voicemail.

Should he leave a voicemail? Or call again? He would call again. If you don’t pick up he’ll leave a voicemail. And so he did, but no answer. Only this time it didn’t even ring. His call was sent straight to voicemail.

“Ehm, hola bonita. Escuché tu nueva canción y quería decir que está muy buena, y el— el vídeo también.” He could feel the swelling growing again, making it hard for him to speak, and swallow. “Solo quería saber si podías hablar por unos minutos pero me imagino que estás ocupada.” He bit his upper lip in an attempt to not let the tears fall, but even as soon as his eyes closed, his lashes let go of the tears. “Regrésame la llamada cuando puedas. ¿Sí?— te quiero… chau.” He pressed the red button.

Sobs were being mixed with your voice singing in the background, and Enzo sitting back down on his couch. The palms of his hands were placed on his eyes as he forced them back trying to stop the tears. That even when he opened his eyes he was seeing stars from the pressure he had added. But there was nothing, nothing could stop them.

He let the minutes pass, and the sniffles continued, with a constant check-up on his phone and still no answer from you. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table again, going into your contact. The photo he had taken of you lying down in bed with his shirt on had remained his contact photo. He didn’t have the guts to change it or even the contact name he had you under. He still had you as ‘mi chiquita’.

He dialed your number for the third time after what had been almost an hour now. He hoped this time you would pick up. But to his luck, it sent him to voicemail, again. This made it no different.

“Nena, por favor… devolmeme la llamada. Se que no queres hablar conmigo pero solo quiero que me expliques si todo lo que decís en esa canción es verdad.” He didn’t even take a moment to breathe as he spoke into the line. “Me estoy volviendo loco. Dejame arreglarlo, sea lo que sea, dame una oportunidad para cambiar las cosas. Te lo ruego.” His fingers gripped the strands of his dark hair. Knuckles were turning white from the lack of blood that dispersed around it.

He stared at his laptop that had other videos of you plastered on the screen and your icon photo on the corner. “Quisiera poder haberme dado cuenta de todo esto cuando estábamos juntos. Tal ves, hubiera sido diferente— las cosas hubieran sido diferentes.” There was a pause in his sentence, but when he was about to start talking again his voicemail cut off. Saying the limit had been reached.

Great.

Enzo felt as if he had let you down. Even now, through the whole relationship. He wanted to fight for your love, but it wasn’t up to him anymore. It was you. You had the final word.

But if your answer was to ever be the opposite of yes, Enzo wouldn't know what he would do with himself.

Either way, something inside him told him he had lost you, that he had to give it up because there was nothing he could do that would get you back.

“El día de nuestra luna de miel, te voy a llevar al mar, y te mostraré, que la forma en la que las olas chocan contra la orilla, es la forma en cómo el amor que siento por vos choca contra todo dentro mí, derrumbándome ante tu disposición.”

Guess that day will never come.

[anni-writes]

i’m getting a little nervous

Atsumu Miya x reader | Angst

Warnings: self indulgent angst, Atsumu a little shitty, post timeskip

Songfic based on Nerves by DPR IAN. Highly recommend listening the song or watching the mv

word count: 1270

23:02h

Hi, how you doing?

I heard you seem to be happy now

Never in a million years Atsumu though he would sob so hard for someone

He never antecipated that his shitty behavior would draw away someone he loved so deeply

Although, his brother antecipated.

Since forever, Osamu knew that the raw words, the lack of tact, the uncaring demeanor and the obnoxious narcisistic behaviour would tire you out eventually.

And he alerted Atsumu, just as he did in high school.

So is safe to say the last person he could reach now was Osamu.

He know better than to hear a painful “I warned you, dumbass” from him in this state.

Not when he was still so vulnerable from this afternoon.

_____

13:43h

It had been three months of radio silence after the fight, and Atsumu was hanging on the thin thread of hope that you would come back to him. Just as you always did.

He didn't see it coming. But he wished he did.

While scrolling through the meaningless registers of people's lives, waiting for his coach, he saw the airplane window picture on your Instagram story, alongside the news that you were moving to another country.

Another fucking country.

Just like that.

Out of reach.

The ball fell. On his side of the court. The referee blew the whistle announcing that it was officially his loss.

But he never loses, how can it be?

He could feel the rush of adrenaline increasing his heart rate.

His body acted on his own.

He left his teammates confused at the gym and ran like he had never did in his entire life. Not even in a volleyball match to catch an unpredictable, difficult ball on the other side of the court. Not even in high school when he was late for practice, and the coach would scold him and double his warm-up laps.

His body ran towards a destination he knew all too well, apologizing to people he bumped into on the street until they all became a blur, and he gave up on his own awareness.

So you came around my house

And you left your marks with your fingertips

I'm sitting where you sat down

And now he's looking for something meaningless

The image of you picking that place because it was so close to both the MSBY practice gym and the office where you worked, and also had the best view of Tokyo at night, was burning somewhere in the back of his mind while his lungs worked double-time to keep up with his speed.

A couple of minutes of running, which felt like hours, he bumped gracelessly against the building door, opening it and fumbling inside.

Breathless, he almost broke the elevator button in his impatience, earning a glare from the doorman, who chose not to say anything due to the visible distress on Atsumu’s face.

Just like the mirrorless elevator, the hallway of the 13th floor seemed more claustrophobic than ever.

And the door of apartment 1307 no longer held the garland from last Christmas, the one you always claimed to forget there, but in reality, were just too lazy to remove, saying “Christmas is gonna be soon again” every time Atsumu pointed it out.

God fucking hell, he could swear he heard your voice in the back of his head, and he hated it.

His sweaty hands reached the doorknob. The door was unlocked, but the sight locked something inside him.

The bright, colorful, saturated walls you made him help you paint were now white.

It looked like a nightmare.

Each uncertain step he took inside the plain apartment was like a different stake driving into his heart.

The once lively space that echoed your goofy laughter and his loud one, but mostly your colorful warmth, was now nothing more than an empty shell.

His heart ached as he desperately clung to the fading memories of you.

Letting his sight scan the place, he spotted the small nook where you used to sit and read, the sunlight from the window casting a warm glow on the now vacant spot. The vision triggered a fresh wave of pain, his legs almost buckling under the weight of his grief.

He leaned his back against the plain white wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

It was as if every inch of the apartment was screaming out your absence, the silence deafening.

He let himself drown in the sea of regret, each memory of you like a wave crashing over him, pulling him further into the depths of his despair.

And in that moment, Atsumu realized the full extent of his loss. Not just the loss of you, but the loss of the love and joy you brought into his life, the loss of the person he had become because of you.

And I'm sorry

I was hurting too much to know

That you were standing right there

And it hit him. All the times you were there for him when he was alone in Tokyo, way before his brother moved.

A country boy trying to reach his dream all alone. Trying to deal with the pressure all alone. Trying to handle the early stages of fame all alone.

But he was never alone.

He would cry comfortably in the crook of your neck while you combed his hair, soothing his soul.

“Breathe with me, baby,” you would say so softly to him when he was in the middle of some panic attack on a Wednesday night.

When the nightmares with the cameras, the press, and the fans woke him up, and you were just… there. Sleeping soundly. And his shaking figure would spoon you to scent the vanilla of your shampoo and calm himself down to sleep again, dreaming of taking you to the vineyards in Italy on his first vacation in-between seasons.

You were always there for him.

But he failed to remember when he was there for you.

You got a little nervous of running back to you

When you weren't there

____

18:33h

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts. But when he finally managed to pull himself together, the sun was already setting.

The view from the window was the same as he had seen so many times with you. But this time, it felt so different, so… dull.

Just like him now.

____

23:40h

He never anticipated that his shitty behavior would drive away someone he loved so deeply, even though Osamu anticipated it.

And now he was sobbing while his sore muscles were relaxing under the strong effect of the whiskey in his left hand.

His phone, forgotten all day in his pocket, was now in his right hand. His thumb purposefully ignoring all the missed calls from his teammates and his brother, to open a three-month-old chat.

Your picture almost made him throw the glass of whiskey against the living room wall. A picture that he took.

But he suppressed the bottled anger. His once unwavering steady setter hands, now trembling, typed away on a mission.

He wanted to be there for you at least once, knowing what’s best for you right now.

So against all the cells of his body pleading for your presence, he sent:

So many times I could've held on

How much I wished I'd never let you go

I still can't believe I left you alone

It tore me down to pieces, she’ll never know

[secriden]

This is going to be a long ask. I am here to shamelessly promote my beloved JoongDunk. I hope you are having as much fun discovering them as I did.

For JoongDunk content recommendations, I would like you to check out their two personal projects written and directed by Joong himself.

The first is the MV for the Last Twilight OST.

https://x.com/dunknatachai/status/1767516781617496348?t=mJKtoNOtqbXkskp-75IauQ&s=19

Joong loved this song so much that he just had to shoot an MV for it.

The second one is the short film POCONG.

https://x.com/dunknatachai/status/1851945210722554274?t=0J8gHh8D4oFKzvPihGmBag&s=19

They made this short film for Halloween this year.

Both of these are made entirely on JoongDunk's own initiative. Joong was the one who came with the ideas and Dunk, as he often does, wholeheartedly supported Joong and helped bring his ideas to life. I find it very endearing that they took time out of their busy schedules to make these projects for their fans. I also find it endearing that they roped in their friends and family to help make these projects. They put in a lot of effort to do their best with tbe limited time and resources they had. I hope you enjoy watching them.

;A; oh my gosh anon, thank you!?! i'm loving discovering them so so much (the timing is slightly unfortunate as this week i have to write ~6000 words on education theory and practice + work but i called in sick today so i'm pacing myself and also comforting myself with consuming joongdunk content rn ^w^;;)

[ the joongdunk MV for Last Twilight ]

oh god this is... this is breaking my heart. the utterly adorable snippets of them just being cute in disneyland?? did this start out as an elaborate excuse to go on a date and film themselves? idk but i'm not complaining.

the constant hand feeding ugh. why is food such a universal and yet visceral love language?? how is it always effective. the cheek kisses. the head pats. the dancing and twirling. the teasing each other. its all so like... that phase of the relationship where everything the other person does is magic and you are just so happy being around them and scenes they shot captured it beautifully (and setting it in Disneyland??? the automatic shorthand that brings for 'magic' and 'fairytale' and 'dreams coming true' such a great idea.)

i had to look up the lyrics and the song is so good??? "The last image I'll remember is when we were together" is such a fire lyric like it has the double meaning of the last thing i remember of you was when we were still happy together as well as the last memory that will play in my mind before i die will be of you. which is. devastating.

but then. good god the crying scenes?? wtf??? i have re-watched dunk's breakdown as he's leaning against the pillar about 7 times now. the way you can see the sobs wrecking his frame. you can *hear* the wet gasps he's taking in through his tears. what a stunning performance.

[ Halloween short film POCONG ]

ok i'll be the first to admit that i am a Wimp (yes, with a capital W, i avoid horror and anything with horror like the plague because it tends to stay with me for ages). so i'm going to watch this but like.......... in tiny (as in the screen is going to be shrunk down because its less scary that way.) xD

ok fuck that was terrifying. i'm never seeing it again. it was impressively horrifying despite it evidently not being a professional production.

the blood was surprisingly realistic?? i feel like i've seen a lot of amateur productions (at school) and the fake blood is always really obvious. the mummy was also a very scary take on it; the way you can see how tightly the fabric is tied/woven around the humanoid figure and how thick it is, like someone suffocated in it. the sound design. *shudders* the whole panic/asthma attack and then when dunk starts breaking down/sobbing especially. fucking nightmares - i'm going to go listen to the Last Twilight OST again to cleanse my ears.

also, i almost feel like both productions were, particularly, a chance for dunk to really show his range. like joong may be producing this but its also very clearly a celebration of dunk's acting talent and i love that.

i really see what you mean about it being endearing that they'll do something like this. it definitely gives us insight into what they value as creatives and its an incredible treat that they chose to share it with the fans and also support each other in it. i wonder if joong has director/producer aspirations? it'd be interesting to see where his career takes him down the line. i was looking at MDL and was kind of shocked at how many shows he was in in 2022 alone given that was like... right after covid restrictions were easing. man took every chance he got to get back into the field and that's really impressive.

[remimibanana]

AnimeGO 2023 Report!

I had the opportunity to go to AnimeGO this year! It was a Japanese Pop Culture Festival that had so many things there! There was an arcade there, kimono dressing, yummy food and so much more!

I went with my good friend Pie (@piedivide), which you’ll see him appear throughout this report! Thank you for the fun time, Pie!!! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

The report is below the cut!

So, context time.

Pie told me about this festival one day about a month or two ago. I didn't even know it was a thing in all honesty, but it sounded so cool! The tickets were pretty cheap as well, and was filled with things that we both liked (aka anime and Japan lol).

And so, we decided to go!

We bought tickets as soon as they came out, and awaited the day to come.

A few days before the Festival, we met up and looked through all of the activities that it was offering on the day. One of the activities that interested us the most is the Kimono Dressing. It only cost $10 for a ticket and you could dress up in a Yukata and take photos!

We literally bought the tickets right away (I pulled out my laptop just so I could buy it lmao), and we managed to get the same timeslot too!

With all of that, we were ready for Sunday!

Day of the Festival!

Before we went to AnimeGO, we took a detour to the UNIQLO store because they were having a Cardcaptor Sakura collaboration and I wanted to get a top if they had any left. Spoiler alert, they did not have any left ;;

We then went to a new bookstore that opened up in the same building, I had no idea it was even up there. I don't go into the city too often so it's always a surprise for me. The inside was very lovely, and of course we gravitated straight to the manga section.

A lot of older manga were there, especially the first three volumes of Animal Academy, one of my favourite manga! I used to borrow the first six volumes from the library, but they only have the second one now which sucks ;;

And so, I couldn't pass up this opportunity. I bought all the volumes lol

And now all we had to do was find the entrance to the venue.

We knew the general direction, but not where it was exactly. We went up and down, thinking we were going the wrong way until we spotted a Nezuko cosplayer who saved us lol

Pie and I went all the way around to get to the venue and even got on an elevator, when we could have just walked through the train station (　˙-˙　)

It's about the journey, not the destination! (tells myself that to make myself feel better lol)

We got these little wristbands to prove we bought tickets as soon as we got there and I managed to break the one I got for Pie orz

He had to get a new one. I’m sorryyyyyyyy (シ. .)シ

We paid our respects to our Fumo overlords (or I forced Pie to)

Arcade!! I love arcades.

The Arcade was the best part to me. All because they had Hatsune Miku Project Diva MegaMix + with the the arcade controls!

I freaked out a bit as soon as I saw it. I've never played this game with the arcade controller so I was pumped to try it!

I played Senbonzakura first, although I probably should have chosen the F version so I could have gotten the pretty MV but that's okay! I got to play and that's all what matters to me lol

I then played my favourite Vocaloid song ever, Butterfly on Your Right Shoulder. I actually failed it the first time because I forgot all of the controls for some reason lmao

I redeemed myself at the end and passed it, don't worry. I was so happy to play it. Len and Rin make me happy!

I also did Hand in Hand and that was fun too! Next time I want to play it more!

Pie did Ghost Rule with this lovely Module that looked so pretty. This is Snow Miku 2019!

We tried out Sound Voltex, which was something I never heard of before. It looked sort of confusing at first, but was a lot of fun once you got the controls down! Aqua from Konosuba was the navigator and she made funny faces at you on the results screen if you did not so great.

Would love to play it again some day.

We also played Taikou no Tatsujin and Muse Dash! We played the heavenly melody, the Calamari Inkantation by the one and only Squid Sisters, blessing the whole Festival with squid music.

Muse Dash was very enjoyable, it was my first time playing it. I heard of it beforehand but never had the chance to try it out. I tried playing it without knowing what the controls were but Pie was smart and pulled up the tutorial lmao

After 3pm, they had a prize gacha system in place where you had to play either a full session Taikou no Tatsujin or Muse Dash and you would get a gacha card upon doing so. You would then line up and roll for two coloured marbles from this white dispenser. The colour determines what type of prize you can choose from.

Yellow was the best one.

Although by the time we got there, most of the cool prizes were gone. They had a Lumine and Aether plushie, I would have so loved to have gotten one of them. But alas.

I only got to choose one prize, while Pie got to choose two.

I got this Haru Okumura from Persona 5 clear card hehe that I stuck up on my wall. Pie got a Marth amiibo and a Yusuke Kitagawa from Persona 5 clear file.

We also walked through all the different stalls that were present! We saw a stand that had retro games, and Pie managed to snag the Ocarina of Time 3D for the 3DS for only $40, which is such a steal! I'm glad he was able to be reunited once again with the game.

Pie and I have this tradition where we each buy each other a print (only one, mind you) while at a convention/festival/wherever there is a print, and that’s what we did!

We went to the main artist alley and spilt up.

Pie got me a Kafka print (thank youuuu, I love it) and I got Pie a Kazuha print!

As soon as I saw it, I knew it was perfect. And it was even more fitting since it was Kazuha’s birthday too! ٩( ᐛ )و

Here is us in our pretty Yukata!

I chose this lovely blue pattern with flowers that caught my eye from the moment I saw it. And I chose well, it looks so good!

I felt so cool in it.

The original hair clip I wanted to use kept falling off my head, I felt bad for the person helping me get dressed aha

And then my hair was literally in the way the whole time, next time I'll tie it up. I did actually bring a hair tie but I forgot about it, welp aha

I'm glad I had this opportunity to do so!

Who knows when I’ll have another opportunity like this (unless I go to Japan….one day I’ll go!)

Food!

There was a lot of Japanese food there as expected from a festival such as this one! We tried this Japanese cheesecake which was really nice. Reminded me of something my grandma would make.

The daifuku was a bit too sweet for us both, although it wasn't bad! We got three different flavours: Mango, Strawberry and Matcha.

Much more squishy than I assumed it would be. I liked the mango one the most, I made a "mmh!" sound because I was so surprised at how mango it was and Pie laughed at me.

I can't understand what Pie meant when he says matcha tastes like a tree, I couldn't taste anything I swear lol

I was sitting there, chewing my heart out but the matcha flavour never came...I think my sense of taste was gone that time...

(i forgot to take a photo of what I ate i'm sorry)

We went to a maid café! It was our first time at any sort of maid café. The maids were very pretty and so kind! I ordered a Matcha Custard Puff and Pie ordered a Pumpkin Mini Loaf, which you can see above!

When I received my order by a lovely maid, I was asked if I wanted my food blessed by them. And of course I said yes!

Gotta go all in after all.

We did this little blessing sequence together and it was actually pretty fun! I managed to say everything properly, I thought I messed it up at the end but I did it!!

The food was pretty good. Blessing worked! The matcha custard was really nice. Even Pie, who doesn't like matcha liked it.

Blessings are powerful.

AnimeGO ended at 6pm, and we were about to head home. It felt sort of unfinished to me, like it didn't truly feel like the end. I didn't want to leave so quickly and so suddenly.

I still wanted to do more.

While I was waiting for my train to arrive, Pie suggested we should go out to the bridge that's outside of the station to kill some time. We walked across a bit of it, and we saw that there was a different festival going on below.

For context, AnimeGO was part of a bigger festival called OzAsia that's been running for the past two weeks I believe. That's the one we saw going on below.

Pie and I saw this other festival from the time we got to AnimeGO earlier in the day, but we assumed that we had to pay to go to that one so we took no heed of it aside from commenting it looked cool.

But that's when I spotted a large sign that said "Free Entry" from the bridge and I was like...we should go there. It was free and we were literally right there. It was still light out!

I never did tell my mum when I was heading home anyway. So it was all finee.

And we did go! It's sort of our thing, doing things rather spontaneously haha

It was the Lucky Dumpling Festival, filled with stalls of food you could buy and a stage with performances! It was really cool.

We saw a stall that sold Takoyaki, which was actually the same stall we bought Karaage Chicken from AVCon!

We missed out last time, so we couldn't miss this chance this time. Pie and I bought one to share, since it was a bit expensive and we weren't sure how much we would like it either.

We had to wait like 20-30 minutes. In the meantime, on the stage arrived three idols.

They started to sing.

And the first song they sang was Saijoukyuu Paradox (最上級ぱらどっくす), Idol Time Pripara's second opening.

When I heard it, I was like "WHATTTTT".

I freaked the heck out, I literally never thought I would ever hear this song in a random festival. I love Pripara, and so to hear this song made me so so SO happy.

Pie can attest to that.

I did not catch nor their names or unit name after the song ended aha

We were sorta far from the stage to hear it properly. But they looked so cool! I loved their outfits. I loved the fact they sang that song like aaaaaaa

And so I stanned these idols who I had no idea what their names were lmao

Our Takoyaki was ready after a while, and we looked for a seat...which was rather hard. There were no seats at all, and we were going to use a random table I saw that we would have to stand at or sit on the grass.

That was until we walked through the front area where the stage was, which had loads of benches.

And lo and behold, there was an empty bench I spotted. Right near the stage. I literally pointed to it aggressively and sprinted to it, so no one could take it. It was ours!

Takoyaki was really good. Like wow! I wished I had more of it then. I am so buying it next time it is available somewhere. So warm…

Of course I am a failure when eating so my Takoyaki balls were falling apart aha ( ´_ゝ`)

We ate it while watching the idols perform various songs and it was so much fun!

There was death metal screaming and it was incredible. The talent.

Such awesome idols. (*≧∀≦*)

Pie and I learnt that we could actually meet them and buy merch from them after the performance.

And of course we did! We were again there already and it’s not everyday you meet idols!

At this point I learnt they were called A-Muse Project, and there was usually 6 members but there were only three here today. It was their first time in Adelaide in fact! They're from Brisbane!

They were so nice and so kind! It was hard to hear them because we were right next to the stage and the next performance was on. And the wind was freezing by the time we managed to talk to them, I was so cold.

Was worth it. Anything for idols lol

We got these little group Cheki with them for $15 and they signed it too! I've never done anything like this before, but it was a lot of fun!

There were also penlights on sale for about $40, which was a bit too much for us so we passed on them.

We didn’t want the signatures to smudge so we just held them carefully for a really long time to make sure (even if we checked they were dry) lol

It now felt like the day was complete. I'm glad we did go to this festival as well!

It’s my first Polaroid I’ve ever gotten and I stuck it up on my wall hehe

We saw many cool cosplayers too, and we vow to cosplay next time we go because it felt sort of like a missed opportunity.

We didn’t get any photos with any of them because it’s honestly rather awkward asking people randomly “hey, can I take a photo?” while not in cosplay aha（´-`）.｡oO

But I did stare in awe.

There was this maid Xiao that we kept seeing everywhere, quite literally. We saw them at AnimeGO and at the Little Dumpling Festival.

We joked that if we called Xiao’s name, they'll come lol

There was a really cute March and such a cool Stelle! And a really cool Dottore that kept eluding me and disappearing randomly, it was rather incredible and creepy at the same time lol

There was also this Flandre Scarlet cosplayer which I absolutely loved. I watched them play Taikou no Tatsujin while waiting in line for the game.

I want to do that one day too, do that cosplay and then play Bad Apple lol

Point is, a lot of cool cosplay.

This place is literally like paradise for someone like me. I love anime, manga and gaming! People are so nice at conventions, I love the atmosphere and simply, I'll never get enough of it all.

We did so many things. It was such a fun day, and I won’t forget about it for a long time.

Thank you for reading!

[waiting-on-a-dream]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏𝟎: 𝐎𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐮𝐦𝐢

"Eh? What is this place? How did I get here...?"

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

Name: Okura Mayumi / 大蔵 真由美 (The kanjis in her last name mean "large, big" and "hide, own, possess", while the characters that make up her first name mean "true", "a reason", and "beautiful".)

Status: Prisoner 010

Gender: Female

Age: 30

Birthday: September 6 (Virgo)

Height: 173 cm

Blood type: AB

Image color: #C19A6B

Occupation: Nurse

Personality: Mayumi is gentle and soft-spoken, always seen with a serene smile on her face. She doesn't like feeling anxious, so she does everything she can to avoid conflict and misunderstandings.

She also has a set of rules for herself that she strictly adheres to. She doesn't expect others to follow her rules, but she would appreciate it if they were to at least act appropriately in public. Because of this, she doesn't get along well with people she deems "problematic".

One of the best behaving prisoners in Milgram, she tries her best to stay out of trouble, landing her in Haruto's good books. She is responsible and disciplined, practically a second guard in Milgram with how much she helps around. How nice of her.

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

Which canon Milgram song she would cover: Throw down (“Throw down”; Someone’s value cannot be the same as another) (Haha, my nurse oc gets the canon milgram doctor's song. I think she'd be able to cover a softer, slower version of it well though! Some of the lyrics suit her well too~)

Which DECO*27 song she would cover: Seigi no Turret (Originally it was supposed to be Poison apple because I couldn't find another song that suited her. But then @.linalilia posted Himura Reina and I found a DECO*27 song with lyrics that suited Mayumi. So thanks, Lina! &lt;3 )

If she could cover a song by a different Vocaloid producer, which one would it be: Shoujo Fuzei by mikitoP (The main character of the song is a nurse, and the calming but morbid vibes fit Mayumi well too. :))

Her MV description: Her MV would take place in a hospital, with slightly faded pastel colours. The last minute of the MV isn't as bright, the frames mostly filled with dark blue and yellow.

The MV starts with Mayumi making her way through a hospital (presumably the one she works at). She's dressed in her uniform, holding a stack of neatly folded sweaters. She enters the paediatric unit and a few kids come to swarm around her legs, holding their hands out eagerly. She smiles and hands a sweater to each of them.

The camera cuts to someone being brought into the hospital in a stretcher. The nurses by the reception whisper to each other, eyebrows furrowed worriedly. Mayumi watches the commotion from a nearby hallway, tilting her head as the man is wheeled out of sight.

A montage of happenings in the hospital ensue. An old man takes a walk around the hospital garden. Two children chase each other through empty hallways. A doctor takes a sip from his coffee and leans back in his chair, massaging his temples with a sigh.

Mayumi enters a hospital room. The person from earlier lies unconscious on the hospital bed. She walks over and takes up the file by the bed, sitting down besides him and reaching out with one hand to card through his hair as she reads the file.

The camera cuts again to another nurse nodding off by the reception desk. Mayumi knocks on the table, snapping her awake with a jolt. The hospital is no longer bright and pastel, their surroundings now dark blue with only the yellow fluorescent lights above.

Mayumi says something with a gentle smile and a tilt of her head. The other nurse lights up at that and gets up from her seat, gathering her things before leaving with a pat to Mayumi's shoulder. A shot of the nurse walking past Mayumi. Mayumi is still smiling. The MV ends.

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

-- 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Gentle) I'm Okura Mayumi, 30 years old, and I work as a nurse. I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I'm sure there's a peaceful way to resolve things.

(Confident) Y*u g* h**e a** re*t. I'l* ta** o**r fo* y**.

-- 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

How dreadful.

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

Haku is her favourite prisoner in Milgram, even though he doesn't interact with her much.

Her favourite colour is ivory.

Her favourite food is chicken noodle soup.

Her favourite book is The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa. She cried while reading the ending.

She likes to knit sweaters for the children living in the paediatric unit of the hospital she works at in her free time.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

I cannot draw. So picrew saves the day once again!

[esc-is-holding-me-hostage]

UMK song reviews

Because Finnish broadcaster knows how to make you actually listen to all of the songs instead of checking someone's recap/top on Youtube.

Honestly, I'm in love with the current UMK format. The whole quality-over-quantity mindset really pays off. The contestants' reveal makes you hyped even if you don't know a single person in the line-up, the "lyric videos" are just full MVs, and again, releasing one song per day incentivizes you to check out each song individually.

So, general impression. I WAS a bit disappointed but after giving it some thought I came to the conclusion that it has less to do with the quality of the songs and more with my personal preferences. And not even because they've ditched rock songs!

Anyway...

Keira - "No Business On The Dancefloor" - The lyrics are DISTRACTINGLY stupid, but my god, is it fucking catchy. I've been humming it for the past week and I don't even like dance pop half of the time!

Benjamin - "Hoida mut" - Okay, this one seems like everyone's favorite and it IS pretty good, but it's just not my vibe, sorry. I'm just so, soooo tired of the whole "slick 80s synth pop" trend. IT'S BEEN 40 YEARS SINCE THE 80'S, MOVE TO THE 90'S NOSTALGIA, COME ON #banthesynths

Robin Packalen - "Girls Like You" - Oh hey, it's the type of song we bully Sweden for. A soulless, bland, extremely well-produced pop complete with "generic attractive white dude #573". I don't think there's a single original lyric in this song. Like, you can literally recreate it by making a mash-up of other songs.

That said, i find it funny how all of us unanimously started clowning on Robin. Cause, let's be real, Girls like You would've been a highlight at almost any other NF. Plop it into MESC and people would go crazy for it.

Lxandra - "Something To Lose" - I literally keep forgetting this song exists, heh. This one feels like a 3-minute intro where you keep waiting for the "real" song to start aaand it's over. To be fair, the lyrics are very good, but musically it's way too stripped down. Put it into "my attention span is too short it" category

Käärijä - "Cha Cha Cha" - Yep, that's the one. That's my fave. I've actually checked out other songs by all of the contestants as soon as the UMK lineup was leaked and Käärijä seemed like the most promising one. And boooy, he did not disappoint. Cha Cha Cha is 5 different genres in a trenchcoat and it's fucking glorious. Anyway, I have no hopes of him winning because I've been burnt way too many times.

Kuumaa - "Ylivoimainen" - On the other hand, I had zero expectations for these guys and ended up pleasantly surprised. Ylivoimainen is a nice little song that will be outshined by bigger names and catchier songs come the day of the show.

Portion Boys - "Samaa taivasta katsotaan" - I was waiting for a weird unholy fusion between Fyr og Flamme and Little Big and got... this thing. Yeah, it's campy and kinda fun but it's also an extremely "by-the-numbers" Eurovision joke song. The lyrics just feel lazy and it ends up sounding like something from that Will Farrel Eurovision movie. Also, why are there five of them if only two guys are singing?

So yeah, Käärijä > Kuumaa > Keira > Benjamin > Lxandra > Robin > Portion Boys My winner prediction: Benjamin. He's got the best ratio of fame and song quality.

[svt-kiki]

( 🩹 )　FEEL THE TEMPERATURE　　⌅ .

　　　　　　　　 MDNi　｡｡　one night stand(s) and flirts

✦　SEXUAL CONTENTS　𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗻𝗶 cw.　pet names, possessive, one sided pining, sub!kiki, kiki being dull to others romantic feelings, mentions to sexual acts in general, threesome

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐋

lose innocence to each other ™

seungcheol has the hardest crush on her throughout trainee days, and kiki liked back too, but both were afraid to take actions and risk everything

they slept after seventeen’s debut was decided, made a promise this is the first and the last

lots of messy kisses, happy sad tears, giggles and comforts

and they kept the promise... for a while

started to making out again around 2017 to 2018, get laid time to time since then

after the concert sex with a heat 🫣

they just know each other so well, aware exactly what to do

kiki is kinda passive when it comes to intimate sessions, got turned on only when someone she trusts or loves flirts her directly with intention ( kinda demi sexual / recipro sexual-ish )

but oh after he build up his body so well like that 🫦

not he insists her to sit on his face especially during his injury

cheol kisses every inches of her body like unless he would die

he loves how she takes him so well when he gaves deep penetration

“words, honey.”

“you doing so well babe, so fucking good around me,”

PET NAMES

“c-cheol, wait, i can’t take this anymore,” “then just use safe words sweetheart. no? interesting.” *smirks*

possessive possessive possessive

“you may fool around with other guys but i don’t care. you are made for me and the body knows it.”

actually, he cares but tries his best to hold back and not be too much

𝐈𝐌 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍

friends with benefits ft. one sided pining

they were good friends for years, he kinda had a slight feeling for her from beginning but nothing deep that just make platonic friendship and mutual respect more stronger

until 2019

they both had a tough time back then, started make some songs together for fun and self-therapy

then had a drink too much the night celebrating the release of their first collab song

ended up wake up in the same bed, naked

she hadn’t remembered the every details but he did, made him kinda obsessed with her

they have a good bed chem indeed

some of his songs are inspired from her cough god damn and lure cough

like why you think he shot the mv in hokkaido at first place??

lots of teasing, like, lots of it

“hmm, like that? if you can’t tell i’ll teach you.”

“you want gentle? wrong fucking address.”

whispers dirty words into her ear in english with deep voices it can make her cum pretty easily

“god you taste like heaven,”

changkyun knows a lot, takes her to whole new level in the bed, kinda eye-opening experience for her ngl

he can eats her out and left no crumbs 😮‍💨

“you keep your hands where they are or i’ll tie them up.”

and she might like that

he knew this feeling won’t sit right between them so just act like cool and gets extra in bed instead

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔

he’s her bad little squishy

this is the last thing she wanted to do but who can unbend their morals and resist him?

he also kinda obsessed with her throughout the time, ( i mean lots of people are ) mixture of crush, love, longing and possessive

just no one is better than her and he always knew it

something rarely, first happened in 2020

mingyu learned how to make her say yes, finally

and kiki lost the reasons to not

“trust me, i’ll take good care of you, okay?”

“noona so cute, being fuzzy like this under me, because of me.”

get the man like him, being gentle!dom and down bad at the same time

“don’t be so serious, we just have fun, no one hurts. right? i mean unless you want to-” “kim mingyu!” *smacks*

“i need you so bad, noona, please, i’m going to be crazy,”

that hands and fingers, able to create a mess as much as (s)he wants

“have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it.”

kiki can use him like a boy toy if she wants to and he would thank her for it ( not that she will but that’s how their dynamics work )

deep thrusts, fingering, fuck like a nothing while her legs on his shoulders

🚨 overstimulation 🚨

his length can streches her out so well, surprisingly

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔 & 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐋

oh there they go

kiki and cheol’s relation is half open secret among the group, so mingyu was willing for the idea first

happened somewhere in fts era

three of them went a casual dinner, mingyu was staring at her with desire and flirted with her in the language only they knew the whole time and she noticed it but tried to keep it cool ( not a miserable attempt buttt )

then cheol also noticed but didn’t feel bad or anything somehow

*gaze exchanging between boys*

“how about making special memories for tonight? i mean, with both of us?”

kiki just gave up on lining up the reasons why they shouldn’t, because at the end of the day, it was never why they, or she don’t want to

they got wet, or soaked in multiple meanings

the one whispering, kissing or touching while the other hitting the spot made her confusing in a good way

challengers who? they are the original

gyucheol do the perfect combo of competitive and cooperate...

“just a little more. you can take a little more, can’t you?”

“hyung, looks like she’s gonna cum.”

“huh, again? we barely even touched you, love.”

𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐎

FIRST OF ALL

kiki almost threw up when she heard his age like wtf you mean you are not 90s kid while look like that-

happened in february 2024 while kiki doing collab work with måneskin in italy after attended milan fashion week

they already had been texting each other couple months since kiki had done the interview contents for the band ( imagine something like jennie and billie eilish ) in dec, 2023 in japan

kiki loves their music and they be like no way THAT kiki is our fan omg???

she always wanted to improve her drum skills because she thinks it’s the coolest instrument in the rock band so genuinely asks him questions and he likes that

their chemistry just kicked off right after they met

ethan longing at her and smiled her every time she looked him back that made her giggle

he was melting when she tucked his hair behind the ear with permission

ngl it made her surprised and blushy how they are open to the sexual topic conversation with casual and comfortable manne

ended up kiki think about how herself thinks and prefers intimate actions that she’ve never put into words before and surely was a good thing

all victoria, damiano and thomas willing to be the wingman kinda funny ( they be like go ethan just do it or you won’t get another chance with HER?!?! *whispers loudly* )

but she never thought in that way until he came out straight, running out patients

thought he’s kinda too young for her, or it can be inappropriate even tho ethan is already fully adult ( of course he is ) and nothing really needs to worry that much like she does

kiki overthinking but that’s bcs she was afraid to hurt him or gave him bad influence in any kind, which is never capable of someone thoughtful like her

“please tell me i’m not having a wrong idea,”

“i mean- it’s not but- are you really sure about this?”

“find out yourself then.” *leads her into the bedroom*

she secretly loves he brushes back that gorgeous long hair to bend down and kiss her and do more

slowly, romantic movements

he laces her silhouettes and spines gently, gave her a tender shiver

shower sex in the morning after ;)

they made a secret promise that they will be the only italian / japanese fuck buddy in their life ( half joke, half serious )

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

(    tag list    )   :   @smh-anon @jennwonwoo @angie-x3 @scarlet789

[papirouge]

What j-idol do you think has the best fashion sense? (or whatever their agency makes them wear)

Although she's not an idol anymore, hands down, Ayumi Hamasaki

Many people forget that when started off, she was marketed off as an idol (very clean & cute image) but her commitment to write her own lyrics and have more control to her image and image made her ditch her "idol" image pretty quickly

If you're not familiar with Ayu, you have to understand that she debuted in the late 90s which was peak y2k aesthetic. It's sad that today people think of y2k as solely "sporty" but you have to bear in mind that y2k was also very minimalism, neat and edgy (not in an ironic way) and that I am still obsessed by Ayu aesthetic of that era

Her MVs aesthetic were pristine and her minimalistic (with a sprinkle of surrealism/trippy) fashion sense was great

Running through the early 2000s she became much more fashion oriented, but still in a very COOL and light spirit. Her fashion choices became even more audacious (and it was sometimes a hit or miss lol) but she made some very iconic styles.

(Her "Ayumi Hamasaki Republic" photobook lives rent free in my head. Absolutely iconic)

Along the times, it felt like she was more and more inspired by Western fashion and celebrities. You can feel Paris Hilton and Britney were on her moodboard and she had entire websites dedicated to clocking her obvious rip off of Western celebrities looks (Madonna, Britney, etc) LOL

Moving further with times, she learned to embrace stardom and diva behavior. I localize this switch at the "I Am..." album era with the "Evolution" (lead) single. It was a very interesting evolution to witness (this single name and use as the lead one was a choice). A Song for XX was her "debut" album where she was that clean & cute idol, LOVEppears (my favorite album her hers) has this kinda rebellious and techno emo vibe. Back then she beefed against her management deliberately milking her (forcing her to release that 'A BEST' album after 2(??!) album was indeed CRAZY). Duty has this sad and almost resignated energy (with titles like "SCAR" "Far away" "End of the world" "Teddy Bear" -dedicated to her dad that abandoned her when she was her child and she being on the verge of tears at the end of the song- , or even "SURREAL" which is a whole subliminal song about her hidden relationship with Tomoya Nagase they had to keep hidden because thy were both superstars...)

"I am..." is eventually about she embracing that ["She IS"] Ayumi Hamasaki, Japan's biggest popstar in its whole history, and it shows...

From that era her style becomes more diva like, and out in our face.... less fun and more (too much?) fashionable... not my cup of tea.

Her Leslie Kee collab era (around 2009) that stayed for a handful of years was an eyesore and it's almost a consensus among the fans that it was the lowest in her career (as much musically, in her private life or in terms of visuals/image...)

This website chronologically archives all of Ayu old MVs through screenshots and you can literally see the difference of energy/shit from "evolution". Her first MV were so ace and neat ("Depend on You"!!!!!) but they became overproduced with time and almost creepy (eg her "(miss) understood)" era)

There's quite a parallel between "Fly High" (one of my favorite MV of Ayu along with "SURREAL" and "Appears") and "evolution" because they have kinda similar set (on both she's on a scene, breaking the 4th wall of us watching her being filmed), but like I said, in "Evolution" Ayu comes off/plays as a diva embracing her pop star status, while in "Fly High" Ayu was still that ingénue young pop star goofying around and being so friendly and cute. Totally different energy.

The next 2 post-"Evolution" MV "NEVER EVER" and "Endless Sorrow" are quite an odd parenthesis because they have the same "demure" pre "Evolution" energy, but beside them, everything after "Evolution" is the growing rise in celebrity/power in stardom and diva-ness of Ayu.

BTW NEVER EVER will remain my favorite Ayu aesthetc, she was absolutely flawless in this. SHE ATE.

TL;DR : my favorite idol look is Ayu y2k AND pre Evolution era (but including "NEVER EVER" (released after "Evolution" because that aesthetic was too perfect)

[finelinevogue]

Imagine the late night talking music video is just clips of harry and Yn during lockdown he filmed on his phone/retro film cameras. Like making midnight feasts, late night drives, them chatting in bed or watching the stars 🥺🥺🥺

crying okay okay.... before the mv actually comes out:

The idea came one morning when Harry woke up and asked you what your favourite song of his was.

"Yeah, I know you don't particularly want to choose a favourite but I'm asking you kindly to." Harry ran a finger down the bridge of your nose and tapped the tip of your nose once, before moving his hand to rest on the cheek further away from him.

Bed with Harry was always the most intimate, because he was often so close and comfortable with you. He would always be draped across you somehow and if he wasn't then he'd want you to starfish across him. Now, he was laying to the side of you, head propped up in his hand and his body half over yours. Your legs were woven together with his and you both looked freshly fucked from some soft morning sex.

"Okay, but don't get stroppy with me if I choose the wrong favourite." You gave him a warning glance before continuing, "I'd say Late Night Talking."

"For any particular reason?"

"It just reminds me of all the tiny, minuscule, moments in our lives where I'm at my happiest. I can tell you are happy too."

"I am baby. I really am." He smiled cheerily before fully leaning over you and slipping his lips over yours. Both of you were smiling too hard to properly kiss each other, but you found the moment a good one nonetheless. Kisses like these were the best, because they were private and they were imperfect.

He had rolled off you momentarily to reach for something on his bedside table and bring it back in front of you both. Both of you now laying on your backs side by side.

"Are we about to film a porno?" You joked, noticing he was holding up and old film camera he adored. Many of your favourite smiles had been captured between that cameras shutter and film tape. Harry fiddled around with some buttons as he laughed at you.

"No baby. We're filming a music video."

"We are? I thought you'd finished with As It Was?" You turned your head to face him, his arms reaching up above you both after he'd started the record button.

"This one is new. It's my Late Night Talking video." He smiled, watching your eyes when you realised what he was on about. This was a video in which he was making just because it is your favourite song he's written.

You couldn't help but smile softly at him, pouting after because he was making your flutter in ways you didn't know possible. You reached through his lifted arm and cupped his cheek, pulling him softly towards you as your lips met his. He was very okay with kissing you back, pushing into you with his love. You both kept pecking each others lips until they were both swollen full of each other's love.

And that's how the first scene of the music video was filmed.

After that, came a consistent montage of tiny moments Harry had filmed over the course of the next year on his film camera. There had been many moments where you hadn't even been aware that you'd been filmed, but watching the music video now brought back all those old memories to the surface and you felt like you could breathe clean again.

"Stop fidgeting." You laughed as Harry changed positions again, curling up more into your side.

You were both laying on bed ready to watch the music video. It was an exciting day. He was clinging to your side like a cuddly Koala. You kissed his forehead as the timer on the video climbed down from 10. He was nervous, because of how much this video represented how much he loves you and he hoped that would come across perfectly.

"I hope you like it." Harry said shyly.

And the video began.

A black screen appeared and the piano introduction, that he used for on tour, started playing in the background. You could already tell the fans were going to go crazy for a studio version of that piano solo. Then in white writing came a small message;

"Dedicated to all our late night talks. I love you."

You furrowed your eyebrows together as you tried to blink away the threatening tears. Harry's arms tightened around you and you tilted your head to rest on his a little better. You bit you lip before any tears could fall, because you wanted to watch the video without a cloudy vision.

The first clip came as the moment that had started it all. It was you two in bed, but as the music to the song started playing you noticed that Harry hadn't kept the original audio in. It left people to wonder what you were actually talking about, but that was something that only you and Harry would get the pleasure of knowing.

The film camera quality was slightly fuzzy and little grains fizzled on the screen some times, but it made for the most comforting and homely video you'd ever witnessed.

The next clip was one of yours and Harry's hands, swaying as you walked in a park together. It had been on an early morning and you had wanted some fresh air before a busy day. You'd been sharing headphones and were listening to 'Stuff We Did' by Michael Giacchino. To some it was a sad song, but Harry said it was your "together" song.

The clip afterwards showed you dancing in the kitchen with a wooden spoon as your microphone. It had been on a day when you were going to meet Anne and you wanted to bring her cupcakes. Then, you had got distracted when a Bon Jovi song came on and ended up singing and dancing around so crazily that you'd forgotten about your cupcakes and they burnt. Harry hadn't been much help though and just sat recording the entire thing instead.

A small clip came on where you were laying completely on top of Harry on the couch. It had been after you'd watched 'How to Train your Dragon' together. Your face was tucked under his chin and you were bundled up in an oversized hoodie of his. You were smiling ever so slightly in your sleep and Harry took pride in this little clip of you. Harry even kissed the top of you head before looking at you and smiling.

The next clip was you in Waterstones, looking around at the bookshelves. You had a tendency to take photos of books you liked, but couldn't afford to buy just yet, and wait for later to buy them. It built up your TBR list easily. What you hadn't realised on that day, until later on, that Harry had been collecting those books you were taking photos of and had purchased them all without you knowing. THere had been four books in total and he'd gotten you all of them. The clip showed you putting each of them back and then Harry immediately picking them up without you noticing. It was one of your favourite things he's ever done for you.

Another clip came of you in Waterstones and Harry told you to pose for his camera. You smiled and brought your hands up to put them under your chin to pose, but in the process accidentally whacked someone in the head. You apologised profusely and it turned out they were a Harry fan too. That fan would no doubt freak now that they were in the video.

A clip of Harry filming the sunset whilst you were driving appeared. The sunset glowed off your face and you skin was slightly dewy from the heat of the day. You turned to him and giggled when you realised he was recording you, reaching to knock the camera away. It didn't work and Harry kept on recording little moments of that drive of you two together. It went dark before long and Harry had gotten a cool shot of the moon before panning down to you. There was another, on the same car ride, where you were screaming at the top of your lungs to Sign Of The Times. Harry's face then came into view and pretended to be really creeped out by you doing that.

There was a montage of clips where you were falling over;

One, where you were running down the stairs and slid on the last two and landing on your bum at the bottom. Harry had laughed too hard that he couldn't even help you up off the floor.

Two, where you were wearing heels and one of them snapped and had sent you down to your knees. Harry had quickly put the camera down to the side for this one and came rushing over to you. He made sure you were alright, before helping you up. You remembered that was the night he banned you from wearing heels ever again. Unless they were Gucci.

Three, you were laughing too hard with Harry in bed that when you rolled you accidentally rolled of the bed. You'd take the covers with you so it didn't hurt too bad, but it was still another moment where Harry cursed you for being so clumsy.

Then there was a montage of kisses, but only quick ones.

You kissing Harry whilst he's getting his hair done for an event.

You kissing Harry when he's just come out of the shower, towel wrapped around his bottom half.

Harry kissing you whilst you're putting on your makeup.

Harry kissing you whilst you were both watching The Martian, after you cried over the ending.

You kissing Harry when he won an award.

Harry kissing you when he proposed to you.

Then the video ended with you two back in bed and the first clip replayed itself. It showed that you were both a cycle of love. You were never ending. The together forever kind of couple.

The screen turned black and the piano reappeared. The text then came up white again;

"Editor: Harry Styles. Videographer: Harry Styles."

"So?" Harry prompted you after the video had ended.

"You edited that?"

"Why? Is it that bad?" Harry sat up quickly and took note of your eyes swelling with tears and even a rogue one running down the side of your face.

"You are a marvel, Harry Styles. I.. I.. God, I love you and I loved it. Of course I did." You laughed, letting out a few tears in the process.

And you both kissed, in cheers to all the Late Night Talking that made you into the couple that you are today.

[nirvanawrites111]

Arch That Back, Baby (Taemin x Dom!Reader One-Shot)

Title: Arch That Back, Baby

Pairing: Sub!Taemin x Dom! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Pegging, Taemin sucking a strap, Unprotected sex, strong language, jealous Taemin, cam sex, voyeurism, spanking

Other idols mentioned: Max Changmin, Kai, Jimin, Ravi

Word Count: 4029

Summary: You are a songwriter for SM ent. and get a chance to collab with Max Changmin and you are the song release party. Taemin is jealous but you will handle him when you get home.

"You are really beautiful, Y/N," Changmin mentions, and he's only a few inches away from you. All night you have been near one another.

His well-tailored suit, expensive cologne, and designer shoes tell a story of a successful singing career that's lasted almost 20 years.

You, on the other hand, aren't afforded the same luxuries, and you are sure many people are wondering how you got here today.

You aren't sure if people even know who you are. All night people have come over to you two and only held conversations with Changmin and blatantly ignored you.

Changmin explains each time that you are fluent in Korean and that you are the beautiful voice on the song. Many nervously laugh in disbelief, but you ignore it.

You still smile in your black Gucci dress that your manager rented, and it makes you feel good to have such expensive textile wrapped against your skin.

Changmin takes notice, and his eyes drive down your body. His gaze moves along like he wants to call your body home, even only just for one night.

You aren't used to this type of attention from him. You sip your glass of sparkling water to ease the tension of his suggestive glares that have marked you all night.

This is the first time you've seen him behave in this way.

"That's sweet of you to say," you finally address his comment, and you clear your throat.

"How's your wife doing? Where is she?" You change the subject and bring his wife to the front of his brain so he can act like he's got some type of sense.

"My wife.. uh, she's at home," Changmin's stumbling and nervous laugh bother you a bit. "But why are we bringing her up?"

"I just wanted to know why she wasn't here."

"I mean, she thinks you're beautiful, too."

"Okay, I wish I could say the same, but I've never seen her at any of our sessions," you reply.

"It's more of an arrangement. She lets me do whatever I want," he continues to add.

You want to walk off because now the conversation is turning into something you aren't prepared for. You would rather be home in bed, but this is your last promotional event before the MV drops tonight.

"Oh. Well, I think we should continue to keep things professional."

Changmin says something else, but you tune him out. You look past him and see Taemin with his best friends. He's being overly animated and loud, and you know that's not his true nature.

You're not sure if he's had a few drinks or if he wants to grab your attention.

By his constant glares, you can tell he's wanted your attention all night, and you see how he continues to reach into his pocket for his phone.

You watch his face tighten when he looks at the screen, and he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Taemin's eyes cut over at you, but then he quickly returns his attention to his friends Ravi and Kai.

You know he's texted you all night, but your manager has your phone. You can only imagine what the text messages say.

You've noticed during the duration of the party that Taemin's eyes haven't left your side. So, you already know that your proximity to his sunbaenim is bothering him.

You take a step back, hoping that Changmin doesn't notice, but he does, and he leans even closer to you.

"Why don't we just get out of here? Just me and you?" Changmin asks.

His forward offer comes out of left field. You've worked with him for the last two weeks to complete a feature for him. You've been alone with him, and not once has he even made a suggestive move towards you.

You look at Changmin's hand, and he's been nursing sparkling water all night, so it's not that he's drunk. Or, maybe he had a few drinks before the party.

"Again. I didn't agree to work with you to get a chance to sleep with you. I'm not going to tell you again, but I'm not interested," you say.

This time your tone is dominant. You've worked with different people worldwide, and you've always prided yourself on keeping things professional.

***

"Are you really going to let Changmin be close to her like that?" Ravi taunts him, and Taemin clenches his jaw.

"I didn't know Y/N liked guys like him," Kai adds. The men start to laugh, all except Taemin.

Taemin rolls his eyes for the thousandth time and is starting to feel the irritation rise in his throat.

"You know how he is," Taemin groans. He wants nothing more than to go over to Changmin and pull you away from him.

He keeps seeing it happen in his head, but he knows it's nothing more than a daydream.

"I mean, it's not like she's your girlfriend or anything. So, why trip?" Ravi asks.

"I'm not. She can fuck him if she wants," Taemin forces a smile.

"You're not serious," Kai's mouth is nearly open.

"I am.. she will probably fuck him," Taemin says.

"Is that what y'all are into? Don't tell me you're a cuck?" Ravi asks.

"I'm not. But, I can't control her."

"I dare you to go over there and make a scene," Kai says.

"I don't want to ruin her night," Taemin declines.

"Well, she's already ruined yours," Kai says.

You see Taemin approaching you with wide steps. You take another sip of your water. You aren't sure what he will say, but it's better than convincing Changmin you're not interested.

"Good Evening, Y/n," He smirks at you, then looks at Changmin. "Evening, Sunbaenim," he bows.

"Ah, Lee Taemin. I didn't know you were coming to this event tonight. I didn't know  SM's second biggest star would bless us with his presence," Changmin's sarcastic tone bothers you even more.

"Very funny. Yes, I had to support SM's best singer/songwriter. Oh, and you too, Changmin," Taemin throws shade at him, and you chuckle.

"Well, if you two excuse me, I have to mingle with a few more people," Changmin says, and doesn't even give you or Taemin a chance to respond.

"Ugh, you know that fool propositioned me?" You groan and shake off the negative energy off you.

"You seem to like it."

"Taemin, no eww.  He's married with a child. C'mon."

"I know you like older guys."

"Nope, I like 93ers."

"No, you don't. You flirted with him all night as if I wasn't even there watching you two. Laughing and do lots of skinship."

"Minnie? Are you okay?" You try to touch his forehead to see if he's warm, but he dodges your touch.

"Y/N, you're playing games with me. Why did you invite me?"

You look around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation with him. Why of all nights would he choose to argue?

You decide to go outside to the balcony to get some fresh air. The last thing you need is to have a scandal with Taemin.

When you first got to SM, you were specified and told you would never work with Taemin. You didn't understand why or question it. So, technically your "situationship" with him doesn't break your moral code.

You lean over the railing, and you hear your manager's melodic voice behind you.

"Y/n, why did you storm off from Taemin?"

"I'm not feeling well," you lie.

"There are a lot of important people here that watch everything you do. Remember, you cannot fraternize with the idols."

"Sooyoung," you turn around to face him. "You know Taemin is different."

"He's not worth losing your job. You've been doing so good. Getting caught up with him is bad news."

Sooyoung probably knows that you do mess around with Taemin. But, his bad boy backstage persona is just smoke and mirrors. He's a submissive whore who whines and comes undone on your strap.

"I'm not losing my job."

"So, why has he sent you over 20 messages since we've been here?" Sooyoung holds your phone up to your face.

"Soo! He's just my friend."

"I saw how he watched you and Changmin all night. He's your weakness. You need to get rid of him. Let tonight be the last time you speak to him. You know they are harder on foreigners, and you're a black woman."

"I know, I know. I will figure it out."

"Do whatever you have to do to get him out of your system. This collab with Changmin could be the start of your singing career."

"I don't want to be an idol," you whine.

"Too late. Lee Sooman sees something in you. This opportunity can change your life."

You sigh because you know he's right.

"Alright, I'm going home."

"Don't take Taemin, either."

You roll your eyes and suck your teeth. "You said I can have one more night with him."

"Fine. You better not get caught."

You look at the many text messages of Taemin being the bratty sub he is, and you shake your head. You stand at the back entrance and wait for your car to pick you up.

The black SUV pulls up, and you put your phone in your purse. Hopefully, no one makes a big deal about you leaving. Your manager stands shoulder to shoulder with you.

"No more, Taemin, after tonight," he reminds you.

Your manager opens the back door and groans when he sees Taemin in the backseat.

He looks back at you and starts to speak. But, you kiss him on the cheek and hop in the backseat before anyone can figure out that Taemin is in your car.

"Bye, Sooyoung! Love you, boo!" you grin, and shut the door before he can say anything else.

"What's his problem?"

"You," I roll my eyes.

"What did I do to him?"

"He says I have to cut you off tonight."

"Sooyoung doesn't run shit, and he's a new manager. Euisoo said he likes us together. He says you keep me in check."

If only Euisoo knows the things that you do to Taemin. You smirk to yourself and think about the last time you were together.

"Not enough if you had to start a fight with me tonight."

"Changmin is a whore. I didn't want you to fall for it."

"We've been fucking for three months now. I don't do anything else besides work, eat, fuck you, and sleep. You are literally a part of my routine, Taem."

"I don't know. Ravi and Kai were making fun of me. Saying Changmin was going to steal my girl."

"Ugh, I knew this wasn't you. You let them get into your head and create problems for us. I swear they are baiting you."

"How?"

"You know why."

"So, you weren't going home with Changmin?"

"You're not serious right now, are you?"

"A little. I mean, he was practically all over you tonight. He danced with you like you were his woman. I mean, Sooyoung is worried about me, but he should be worried about Changmin."

"Taemin, please. Not this shit tonight. Turn Jealous Taemin off, please. I'm not in the mood. Sooyoung says they want to make me an idol."

"That's not you. You're not fake, Y/N. Your melanin is too perfect to be whitened."

"I know, but this could be a good opportunity. I could use the money."

"Don't do it. There are a million Changmins in our industry.. honestly worse than him. Just stick to songwriting."

"Well, I wanted to write for you, but they won't let me."

"I know. I told them I didn't want to work with you."

"Why?"

"Because I've wanted you since you stepped foot in Korea, and I knew that if we worked together, it would have been too obvious."

"Damn, you were plotting on me from the beginning."

"Of course, I was."

***

You stand in front of the camera and position it perfectly in front of the bed. You have already changed your wig to a honey blonde bob wig. You have on your favorite black leather bra and a matching skirt.

You turn the camera and wait for your normal viewers to pop into the chat.

KJI: Taem is trouble, right?

KW: He talked a lot of shit tonight

You smile internally when you notice who has entered the room already—his two best friends who set him up for failure.

You are not exactly sure why you've become a part of the voyeurism crew, but you like it. Sometimes you watch Jimin with his partner, Kai with his, and sometimes Kai and Ravi share the same partner.

"Yes, Minnie is in trouble. His mouth always gets him in trouble, so he'll use it a lot tonight."

"Come here whore," you call out to Taemin. You hear him walk over to you, and you grin at how he's taken the time to get sexy for you.

"Mmm... Minnie, you look hot as fuck," You compliment him. You admire the dark smoky eye makeup he's put on and a bit of lipgloss for highlighting those juicy lips.

Tonight he wears a mesh crop top with a very short skirt. He looks so damn good in those fishnet leggings.

"Thank you, Mistress," he replies.

You pull him over to the camera, and you lift his skirt. You reveal his thong to the patronage watching.

"Minnie, you look so good. You made a mistake by wearing a thong for me," you say. You squeeze his ass and slap it a few times.

PJ: Sorry I'm late.. what did I miss?

"You didn't miss anything, PJ. Your bestie was bratty all night long, so he's going to pay for it."

"Now, what was all that shit you were talking earlier?" You confront Taemin.

"Nothing, mistress. I just didn't like how close he was to my Dom. I don't want to share you."

"Do you think I'm a whore?" you ask.

"No, mistress."

"You know you don't share me with anyone. Except I fuck you in front of your horny ass friends. But, that's it," you giggle.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Lay across my lap," you command to him. You sit back against the couch, and you look at the TV next to your computer so you can see the comments.

KJ: Are you going to spank him?

"Maybe, you'll just have to wait and see," You lift Taemin's skirt and rub on his ass. You caress him. You are thinking about to what you want to do to him.

Spanking him would just be too easy and expected.

PJ: Damn, can I be next?

"See, Minnie, your friends, are a bunch of whores. PJ is requesting that he be next," you say, and shake your head. You aren't thinking about any of his friends.

If you lose it all, you would rather take that risk with Taemin. Your connection with him is deeper than just a sexual relationship. You both trust each other fully.

"How do you want to punish me, Mistress? I've been bad," Taemin says, and you enjoy how he's craving his punishment. You continue to rub his ass, and you look at the comments.

"So impatient. I will punish you when I get ready," You say.

You read the comments, and you see a comment from Ravi

KW: I say you pound his little ass. He said you were probably going to fuck Changmin.

"Oh really?" You grab Taemin by his hair and pull him up from your lap so he can look up at you. "Minnie, you told your friends you I was going to fuck Changmin. What made you think that?"

"I'm sorry.. I didn't mea-" You stop him in his tracks and slap his ass. You watch it jiggle, and it excites you even more.

"You're sorry, what? You know your friends come back and tell me everything you say. Talk about loyalty? Your friends are literally stroking their dicks, watching you get punished. Some friends you have," you chuckle.

"I'm sorry for," you didn't wait for him to answer, and you slap his ass again.

"On your knees, Taemin," you command.

Taemin does as he's told and gets down on his knees in front of you. His eyes are connected to yours, and he's anticipating your next move.

You stand up over him and unzip the middle zipper that goes all the way down your short leather skirt.

"Open your mouth," you say.

"Yes, mistress," he replies, and he looks up at your strap and licks his lips.

You move over to him and grab the back of his head. You turn him so that they can see him from the side.

"This is what happens when you talk too fucking much," You grab him by the head and pump into his mouth.

Taemin takes it all in and slurps on your strap. He sucks on it, almost gagging, but this isn't his first rodeo.

"Suck it... Taemin, show your friends what you can do with that throat of yours," you mewl and guide his head so that it can suck it faster.

You look over at the chat and look at the comments.

KW: Damn, this is hot

PM: I feel like we should be paying to see this

KJI: Don't choke, bestie

"Aww, your friends are enjoying the show. KJI says don't choke, bestie," you say, and you hold in your laugh.

"Never," Taemin manages to say around your strap. You find his comment to be a bit cocky.

You put both hands behind the back of his head, and you fuck his throat. You look down at the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"Mmm.. that's right, you throat whore. Take this strap like you're supposed to," you say, and work your hips into him.

You look down and notice his dick is hard.  

You pull out of his mouth and pull him up to give him a sloppy kiss. He's thirsty for what you give him and enjoying your tongue in his mouth.

Your hands are roaming all over his body. You squeeze on his ass. You rip the crotch area of his fishnet stockings.

"You are so fucking hot," you sit back against the couch, and Taemin smirks at you.

"Strip," you say.

You watch him remove his shirt, and he reaches behind him and unzips his skirt. It falls down his beautiful body and pools around his feet.

He might have been bratty all night, but tonight he's your obedient slut waiting eagerly for your next move.

You take a moment to admire his body for a moment. He pulls down his ripped fishnets and removes his panties with your name on them.

Taemin stares at you and waits for your next instruction. You grab his hand and pull him to you. You stand up and push him against the couch.

"You ready for me?" you ask.

"Yes, mistress."

"Even though I know you want your hole ruined, I'm not gonna top you tonight," you say.

"But, mistress... I need you. I want you to fuck my ass."

You rub his chin and remove your strap. You toss it on the other chair.

You sit down on his lap and face him. "You don't want to feel my pussy?" you ask. You grind your body against his dick.

"I do," he looks down at your pussy.

"So, why are you acting like that, Taem?" you question. You hold your finger to the bottom of his chin and pull his face up to yours.

"You know I love when you fuck me hard.. especially when I've been bad," Taemin mumbles.

"You want the strap that bad?"

"Yes, mistress," Taemin says. He nods, and you tap his ass.

"Okay, get up and lean over the couch," you instruct. You get up to grab the strap. You put it back on, and then you grab the lube. You pour the lube on the strap and massage it all over it. You go over to the camera and read the comment.

KW: He doesn't deserve the strap

JM: Fuck him good, pls!

KJI: Don't split my bestie in half

"I won't split him in half, but I won't be gentle either," you respond.

You move behind him. "Arch, your back, baby."

"Yes, mistress."

Taemin arches his back, and you lube his ass, and you stick one finger inside of him. He moans and clenches around your finger.

"Relax, baby. You want to feel good, right?"

"Uhm hm.. Mistress," he whimpers.

You stick another finger inside of him to get him ready for you. He reacts to you and moans out. The sound alone is music to your ears.

You position yourself behind him and guide your strap into him. You slowly work yourself into him.

Taemin moans your name, and you speed up.

"How does it feel?"

"So good.."

"If this is what you wanted you didn't have to talk shit to get it."

You rub on his back, and Taemin throws his cute little ass against your strap. No one can take it like him.

"Fuck," he groans. You love to see him like this for you. He might have millions of people crazy over him, but he's a simp for you and only you.

You pull out of him and tell him, "Get on your back. I want to watch you," you say.

Taemin quickly moves and lies on his back. You tower over him and press your body against his. He wraps his legs around your waist.

You stroke his dick while you slide back inside of him. You hold onto his hips as you rock into him.

This position is intimate and super personal. His eyes are glossy, lips slightly parted, and moans are slipping from his mouth.

Even though you told your manager it was the last time, you know deep down inside you can't let him go. Being with him is too good.

Seeing him fall apart like this for you on your strap makes you wet. You love this feeling.

The truth is you have feelings for Taemin even though you want to deny it.

"This is all... I wanted all night," Taemin groans and grinds against you. The vibrate of both of you working together feels too good. You feel your pussy clench.

"I'm so close..." Taemin moans and grips the couch. He reaches down and strokes his dick.

"Cum for me then," you say, and fuck him harder.

His legs grip your waist tighter, and his hand works faster. He releases it, and it drips on his stomach. You pull out of him and take off your strap.

"I want you to cum inside of me," you say. You look into his eyes and see the desire in them.

You remove your strap and toss it. You look down at Taemin is hard again for you.

You slide down on his length and move forward to press your lips against his juicy lips. You lose yourself for a moment in his kisses. They are hot, wet, and passionate.

You work yourself on his dick and rock yourself on him while he holds your waist.

"You're just my beautiful toy to use. Mistress made you cum, but now it's my time. Touch me," you say.

Taemin strokes your clit, and you're still connected in a kiss. You've been waiting all night to feel him inside of you again.

"I love you," Taemin says, while in his tongue is deep inside of your mouth, and you feel yourself coming undone.

This is the first he's ever uttered those words to you, and you feel the built of all the tension from tonight. You explode on his cock.

"I love you too," you cry out. Your legs are shaking and trembling. You cum again, and this time Taemin, he releases with you.

Your mouth is still against his, and your body is still sensitive and trembling.

"Fuck, that was perfect."

"I know... it's not the last time, right?"

"Nope," you say.

[falcqns]

Hii i have this request in mind like Chris Evans x Actress! Singer! Reader like the reader and chris dated for 3y idk but they broke up but the reader always visit chris’ family bc she treated them like family aswell specialy when the reader’s parents died so she spend Christmas there or any occasions bc chris’ family invite her and when chris got a new gf the reader is kinda hurt bc she still love chris but she try to look like she doesn’t care but then she released her new song its called deja vu (by olivia rodrigo) and she release it to her bday so when the song is released the fans knew its abt chris bc of the new gf (chris’ fam doesn’t like the new gf and the fans kinda didn’t support them bc of the girl’s attitude) and chris’ family invites her over bc they want to show the reader something and when the reader got there they surprise her for her bday and congratulate her and turns out chris is there too with his new gf🤨and the reader knew chris’ new gf hated her bc of her look and scott called you all to the living room and watch the mv of the reader’s new song and when the mv ends scott and the fam congratuleted the reader and chris’ gf is giving the reader looks again and chris is noticing it and when the reader is in the kitchen alone getting something chris talk to her and congratulate her and chris’ new gf wrapped her arms around chris and chris tried to stop her to make a scene but she started a scene and scream at the reader but the reader cut her off and embarrassing her and the reader prove the new gf shes first not her (idk if that make sense lol) and the new gf leave(idk you can make her a random name so its not only “new gf”) and the reader and chris talk and they got back together, you can do wha you want at the end this is just so random bc i was listening to deja vu and advance thank you if you do my request! Stay safe! ❤️ and im so sorry if this is so long

Deja Vu

pairing: Chris Evans x singer!reader

warnings: parents death, major angst, fluff. 

a/n: thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

You had known Chris since college, when you had met him in your communications class. You two had grown close quickly, and became best friends. 

He brought you home every Christmas Eve, before you would go home to your parents house on Christmas Day. You had always felt like a part of the family, so when your parents passed a way, you turned to him. 

You and your parents were driving home from a Christmas Day church service, when you were hit by a semi truck. It had completely totalled the car, and your parents had died on impact. You had been sitting in the back, and only had a broken leg from where your moms seat had been pushed back into it roughly. 

You had been pulled from the car and sat in a second ambulance, while your parents were transported in another. You knew you'd never forget watching that ambulance door close and drive away, knowing that was the last time you'd ever see them. 

When the police officers asked if there was anyone you could call, you didn't know what to do. Your parents were both only children, so you had no aunts, uncles or cousins. You were an only child too, so you had no siblings, and your grandparents had passed when you were little, your other ones passing before you were born. 

So when the officer asked you, you told him the Evans’ phone number. Lisa picked up on the second ring, and you tearfully explained what had happened as the shock wore off. She immediately said she’d meet you at the hospital, and not to worry, that she and Bob would take care of you. 

You were taken to the hospital and treated for your broken leg. Less than an hour after you arrived, Lisa arrived at the hospital with Chris in tow. They comforted you, and took you home with them. You stayed in Chris’s room for the first few days, and when you were given your own room, you still had a hard time sleeping alone, so Chris ended up in your bed with you most nights, not that he minded. 

You never went back to college, and instead turned to singing as a release from all the pain you were feeling. You started out posting covers on YouTube, and gradually progressed to getting a record deal with Interscope Records, which didn't surprise anyone who knew you. You had immense talent, and your parents used to tell you that they were counting down the days before you were a celebrity. 

When Chris graduated college and told you he was moving to Los Angeles, he convinced you to come with him. Prices were high in LA, and he didn't want to be separated from you for too long, so you joined him. He got to be an actor, and you got to be a singer, which is what you both had wanted since you were younger. 

You went to every one of Chris’s movie premieres, and he attended as many of your live shows as he could. You supported him through all his relationships and his breakups, and played the middle man whenever he and Jenny would fight, up until the very end. You told yourself you did that because you just wanted what's best for him, but you both kind of knew that wasn't the reason at all. 

Throughout your time living together, you friendship grew, as did your feelings for each other. You'd be lying if you didn't have a small crush on him in college, and those feelings only grew as time went on, especially since the two of you decided to only get a one bedroom apartment. Mainly because it was cheap, but also because Chris made a decision a week after your parents death to never allow you to sleep alone because of the nightmares that would occur if he wasn't there.

So, when you won your first award for your first album, named ‘hand in hand’, he kissed you the second you came off the stage with your award in hand. It blew your mind that he felt the same, but you were happy nonetheless. You two began dating that night, and everything was perfect. 

Until, you were invited by 5 Seconds of Summer to be their opening act on their newest tour. You had agreed, and Chris let you go. You two had been dating for over 3 years, and you thought your relationship would be fine. 

You quickly realized however that that wasn't the case, when the two of you started fighting less than two weeks into the tour. The fights weren't anything major, more petty things like ‘did you change the Netflix password’ or ‘why did you take this piece of clothing, that was mine and it was my favourite.’ All around stupid fights. 

You had turned to Calum, who you were closest with, and he consoled you as much as you could. You realized however, that you couldn't be with Chris anymore when he drunk called you in the middle of the night while you were in the UK and got angry with you when you answered and told him to call you back in the morning when he was sober, to which he proceeded to brag that he slept with his co star at the time, Jessica Alba, you freaked out and ended things. 

You got a message from Jessica on instagram the next day letting you know that they did not sleep together, and that she was sorry he even said it. You assured her it was fine, and felt relief.

Relief because you got to the bottom of the situation, but also relief from your relationship. You didn't know what happened in those few weeks, but you knew the relationship was turning toxic, and you wanted to stop it before that happened. Neither you or Chris needed that. You told him you’d find a new place to live, and by the time tour ended, you bought yourself a house in Beverly Hills, and moved out of the apartment.

Chris moved out not long after, and bought his own house. He had tried to stay friends with you, but you didn't want that at that point in time. You were still hurting, and needed time to heal. 

Once you felt ready to date again, you were asked to be Calum’s date to the Peoples Choice Awards, you accepted. You knew Chris would be there, and you were hoping to talk to him, and maybe work it out. He had told you during the break up that he would always wait for you to come back, and that he still loved you, and always would. 

But you knew that wasn't the case when he showed up on the red carpet, with a new actress named Myra Woodfield. You had smiled at him, while trying not to break down inside, but he gave you a dirty look and rolled his eyes at you when Calum wrapped his arm around your waist for a picture. You furrowed your eye brows and took a good look at Myra. 

She looked almost exactly like you. Same build, same hair colour, same eye colour. The only difference is that she was slightly taller than you. You didn't know why he was replacing you, but it hurt. You pushed it out of your head however, and enjoyed the night with your best friend. 

It was a few months later when you were awoken by the constant dinging of your phone. You unlocked it, and saw you had a lot of unread messages from Luke, Ashton, Michael, Calum, and your other best friend Ashe about Chris’s new movie trailer, you sighed. 

You watched the trailer, and sighed when it looked like a recreation of a bunch of moments in your relationship with him, only Myra was in your place. 

Your fans and some of Chris’s had commented on it, and Myra immediately became aggressive with them, and insulted them. She told them that you were a nobody who could make Chris happy, which she was glad about because she made him happy how. 

Within minutes of this happening the hashtag #cancelmyrawoodfield was trending on twitter. You shamelessly went through the tweets and like and retweeted a couple. Then an idea popped in your head.

With a quick google search, you had a plan. 

You had written a new song called Deja Vu after the peoples choice awards, and it was had been recorded a few weeks ago, and you just had to decide on a date to release it, and make a decision on the music video. Her birthday was in about 3 months, which gave you enough time to get everything in place to drop on her birthday. 

Was it evil? Yes. Did you care? Not really. Besides, you inherited your pettiness from your mother and you knew she’d be proud of you. You called your manager and label, and got it planned out. 

When the new music video had been announced, Lisa called you and invited you home to watch it premiere with the family. You accepted, knowing Chris and Myra would be there, and that her birthday would get overshadowed by the release of your music video.

So, three weeks later, you were sitting with Lisa, Bob, Carly, Shanna, Scott, Chris and Myra in Lisa’s living room, waiting for the video to premiere.

Scott had picked you up at the airport earlier in the morning along with Carly and Shanna, and the four of you had a laugh about the face that no one acknowledged Myra’s birthday, not even Chris. It was mean, but no one liked her. 

Lisa absolutely hated her, but didn't want to upset Chris, so you got a call shortly after the PCA’s from her and the two of you ranted about her for a good two hours. 

You watched as the timer counted down from 10, and then the screen turned black. You took a deep breath and watched Chris out of the corner of your eye. 

You had searched for a while for a guy who looked similar to Chris, and you stumbled on Andrew Siwicki. He didn't look exactly like Chris, but it was close enough that everyone would know who the song was about if they didn't already. Andrew was a fan of Chris and hated Myra too, so he was more than glad to help you out. 

The music began to play, and you watched as the black screen faded in on two people walking along the beach, holding hands. 

“Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream One spoon for two And trading jackets Laughing 'bout how small it looks on you,”

The next scene was a recreation of yours and Chris’s first date where you two had a picnic on the beach, and ended up splashing each other with the ocean water. Towards the end, everyone watched as Andrew picked you up and threw you into the water the same way Chris always did. 

You glanced at him, and could have burst into laughter at how uncomfortable Chris looked, but more importantly how angry Myra looked. 

“Watching reruns of Glee Being annoying Singing in harmony I bet she's bragging To all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm,”

The next scene was you and Andrew (who was dressed as Ransom) on what appeared to be a recreation of the Knives Out set, running around with a dog that looked like Dodger chasing after you, the two of you laughing. The next shot was the two of you kissing behind a trailer, seemingly hiding from production. 

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you,”

The next scene was the two of you driving through Southern California, in a car that was almost identical to Chris’s. You two were laughing and singing along to the song, your hair whipping around you.

You took a deep breath, knowing this next scene would piss him right off.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?”

This scene was you, along with the rest of Chris’s family sitting around a living room that looked like the one you were in now, a Christmas tree full of presents in the corner. The camera panned across everyone as everyone was talking and settled on you and Andrew and the two of you recreated the scene where Chris whispered in your ear how much he loved you, and couldn't wait to start a family with you. 

“Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same,”

The screen showed you and Andrew saying goodbye at the airport, with 5 Seconds of Summer standing behind you. They weren't actually there when you left for tour, but Luke suggested it to piss Chris off, and you had agreed. 

Then there was a small montage of clips from tour, including a shot of Michael elbow dropping Ashton into a pool, which made everyone laugh, except Chris and Myra. The montage was followed up by you sitting on the floor of a dressing room and crying as you sent a text that said “I’m done.”

“Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type,”

Now you were on the red carpet, with Calum right beside you. You both were wearing the same clothes you wore on that night, you hair and makeup recreated perfectly. The camera unfocused on you as you turned and looked at Andrew and an actress named Alexa Morrison, who looked a lot like Myra, and they were recreating Chris and Myra’s actions perfectly. The camera swivelled around and came to rest pointing towards your face, as you looked in shock, and a single tear fell down your face. 

“I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her Uptown Girl You're singing it together,”

You were shown watching a movie trailer with Ashe sitting next to you, while you sobbed at what Alexa and Andrew were doing. You looked at the camera and began singing the song, while Ashe and everything else around you was frozen.

“Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you),”

You were sat on the bed in Chris’s red flannel that you had stolen before leaving for tour, and you were writing in the notebook aggressively with tears rolling down your face and singing.

“So when you gonna tell her That we did that too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was the show we talked about Played you the song she's singing now when she's with you,”

You were now being shown sitting on the couch, and watching Andrew run across the TV screen dressed as Captain America, an ice cream tub in your hand. You were wearing sweats and a t shirt, your hair in a messy bun.

“Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? Oh Do you get déjà vu?”

The camera circled around you before transitioning to the next scene. 

“Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused),”

You were shown laying down in bed, and your eyes closing before an image of you and Andrew danced, dressed as Steve and Peggy in endgame, a scene Chris always told you the two of you would recreate one day. You had called Hayley and asked if it was okay, and she immediately said yes, and even came and watched you do the scene.

“Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new (I know you get déjà vu),”

When your eyes opened, you were sitting at your piano, and playing while singing along. 

“I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu,”

Suddenly, the piano disappeared, and you were left standing in an empty living room as the screen faded to black. 

The entire room burst into cheers as the video ended, except for Myra, who looked like she was going to murder you, and Chris who just clapped with a tight lipped smile. 

Later that night after all the kids had gone to bed and Lisa was driving Bob home,  Scott had pulled you into the kitchen under the pretences of ‘helping him fix a drink’, which ended up just being the two of you gossiping about Chris and Myra, and the music video.

Suddenly, Chris walked in, and nodded for Scott to leave. You cleared your throat and ignored him.

“That was a good song, and an amazing music video.” He said. “I can see you're just getting more and more talented as time-” He began, as you rolled your eyes, and looked at him. 

“What do you want?” You asked bluntly. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you.” He said, and you were about to open your mouth, when Myra came slinking in the room with an evil look on her face. 

“Nice job, Y/N. I’m glad I could inspire your music video.” She said sarcastically, and you could tell Chris was about to defend you, but you opened your mouth first. 

“Well, I’m glad I had such a snake like bitch to draw inspiration from,” You said, and heard Scott, his siblings burst into laughter in the living room. Myra’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at him. You looked up at Chris, who was leaning up against the counter, and biting back a smile.

“You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” She asked, and Chris sighed.

“Myra, don't start. Not now.” He said, she scoffed. 

“I knew you still loved her. Only a pathetic loser could love someone as ugly and untalented as her.” She spat, and Chris growled. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you ran out of the room, your drink abandoned on the counter. 

You ran into your bedroom, where you shut the door, and fell onto the bed in tears. 

Back in the kitchen, Chris had gotten in Myra’s face, and was yelling.

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO HER LIKE THAT! SHE’S BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT IN HER LIFE, AND I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO ADD TO THAT!” He screamed, as Scott, Carly, and Shanna ran to the door, unsure of what to do. “SHE IS SO TALENTED, WAY MORE TALENTED THAN YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON PRODUCTION TOOK SO DAMN LONG, IT TOOK FOREVER TO GET A PERFORMANCE OUT OF YOU! YOU OPENLY INSULTED HER AND HER FANS HOURS AFTER YOU WERE ANNOUNCED TO BE IN THIS MOVIE, AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO COME TO ME CRYING BECAUSE YOUR LITTLE FEELINGS GOT HURT!” He screamed, and Shanna ran and backed Chris away from her. 

“YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND! AND ITS MY BIRTHDAY, YET HERE YOU ARE, CONGRATULATING HER FOR A SHITTY MUSIC VIDEO!” Myra screamed, and it was Scott’s turn to get in her face. 

“You need to leave. If you don't we’re going to call the cops.” He stated, and Myra rolled her eyes before storming out of the house. 

Scott turned back to Chris, and was shocked when he saw him in tears. 

“You need to work shit out with Y/N. It’s clear the two of you are still in love, and you need to figure it out as adults,” Scott said, his sisters nodding. Chris took a deep breath, and looked at your closed bedroom door.

Chris walked up to your bedroom door, and took a deep breath before entering the room where he used to sleep in every night.

He opened the door, and saw you curled up in a ball on the bed, your body still shaking. He smiled sadly, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed behind you, and rubbed your back gently. 

“I’m sorry. Not just for what Myra said, but for everything. For breaking your heart, and for causing you so much pain. I didn't realize how much I was missing you too until we watched that music video and I saw how truly broken you were. I never noticed that before now. And I’m sorry I didn't. If I’d have, I could have fixed this sooner, and we could be together right now.” He said.

You furrowed your brows at his last sentence and sat up.

“W-What?” You asked, and Chris moved closer. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. 

“I still love you. So so much.” He smiled, and a tear rolled down his face. “You're my entire world, and not having you here is slowly breaking me apart. I didn't know just how much until today, but I can't live another day without you.” He said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you baby.” He sobbed, and his head buried itself into your hair. Your body shook with sobs too, and you turned around to face him.

“I love you too.” You sobbed out. “I never should have ended things, but-” You said, but were cut off by Chris’s lips on yours, and you felt yourself melting into it.

He pulled away a few seconds later. “Don't. It was my fault, not yours. I am so sorry, and I am going to spend the rest of my life making up for it, I promise.” He said, as he stood the two of you up and led you out of the room, and to his.

“Where are we going?” You asked, and Chris pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I have to grab something.” He said. He opened his closet, and grabbed something out of the top corner before turning to you. 

“I said I planned on spending the rest of my life making it up to you, and I plan on keeping that promise.” He said, as he got down on one knee. You gasped, as he opened the box and your dream engagement ring was inside. “I want you for the rest of my life, and the next. Will you marry me?” he asked, tears pouring down his face, just like yours.

You nodded enthusiastically, and Chris stood up. He placed the ring on your ring finger and scooped you up. “I love you,” You choked out, and Chris sobbed harder into you. 

“I love you too, and I’m never letting you go.”

taglist: 

@nerdypinupcrystal @kpopgirlbtssvt

Tag list sign up: https://forms.gle/vRNXmWKEYoDYEoha9

[ressjeon]

in this paradise (moodboard teaser)

pairing: survivor!jungkook x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to escape what's been planned for him, Jungkook hopped on a ship only to face a tragedy that he didn't expect and enter you who somehow couldn't believe to find company in this isolated land. Was this fate or was this just a temporary chance of bliss as a challenge for you both?

rating: 18+ 

genre: tropical island!au, survivor!au, strangers to lovers, angst, smut, romance & fluff

warnings: some accidents mentioned, lots of teasing, swearing, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, multiple sex scenes (beach, treehouse?, etc.), pet names, skinny dipping, finger sucking, thigh riding, unprotected sex (no condoms in da island peeps), handjob, oral (m. receiving), nipple play, fingering, riding, jk takes it from the back too. (warnings could change)

a/n: this wasn't the first JK fic I planned to post but he was in Summery outfit on Sowoozoo so I had to bump it up among other WIPS 😅. 2 years ago, I got intrigued when I saw the theme song mv of this TV series on my YT dash, the mc has the same name as me and it was Jungkook who first came into when some scenes (4 in exact, including this one) flashed in my mind. The plot is completely different though as I only borrowed some elements of it ♡.

ps. this moodboard was damn hard to make T.T

Check it out here!

― masterlist — navigation ― wips

A sudden ruckus behind your shoulder alerts you immediately, and you turn to see a little movement in the tall grass among the trees.

At last, food.

You’ve been hungry for hours since you wake up so it would be amazing to find something to eat since it's lunch already. Getting into position, you raise one arm up with a spear above your head, the other hand holding up front just in case it attacks you.

Readying yourself as you approach the moving grass, you part them with the other hand but to your surprise, you find a half-naked man in dirty white jeans with dark hair, his doe-eyes staring at you in shock.

"woah, woah, woah" an instant fear crosses his eyes, both of his hands suddenly waving in front in surrender causing him to wince a little, allowing you to spot the wound below his right shoulder so you lower down your arm.

He’s good-looking, add the harsh rays of sunlight looming over him from above to that.

You recover instantly, locking your eyes to his with a death glare as you move your spear in front of you.

“who are you?” you demand, suspicious eyes raking his form as you come nearer to him. He could still be a threat for all you know, best to take precautions.

“jungkook” he pants, reaching out with open palms to shake your hands. He hopes that you'll deem him as harmless by doing so and looks at you pleadingly when you don’t answer him.

“y/n” you respond gently a bit after dropping your spear on the side, feeling a spark when your hand touches his, of how gentle he’s shaking your hand despite the worry in his eyes.

He sighs in relief but pain crosses his handsome face, and he’s wincing even more this time. You manage to catch him before his body reaches the ground.

“my bad” he chuckles while trying to stand up, somehow disregarding that he almost collapsed. You really wonder how he can joke about his situation.

“you’re wounded you know” you scoff, inspecting his wound straightaway.

“yeah but at least you’re here now” he grins and winks at you as he positions himself on your lap, making your eyes roll.

“shut up or i won’t help you” you chide, pulling out the remnants of splinters from his wound with warning and he pouts.

“okay, okay, i’ll behave” he whines as he stays still lying down on his stomach and you’re trying to ignore how you can feel his defined abs on your legs.

“why are you wandering here in the forest while your wound is still fresh?” you ask and Jungkook smiles when he hears the concern in your voice. Ngl, he was shit scared of you earlier, if it weren’t for his wound that’s slowing him down and you’re pretty face he would’ve bolted instantly.

“I was looking for medicinal herbs” he answers, shaking his injured shoulder a little and you smile at this cute antic, okay he’s adorable.

“stop moving” you tsks.

“and what exactly is a beautiful girl like you doing in this forest too?” he questions before you can even answer him right away.

“i was looking for food,” you pause, stating the obvious.

“so that’s why you have a hunting spear with you. where did you even find materials to make it?"  he prods, a lot of curiosity in his voice and you smile again, he can’t see you from this angle anyways so it’s good.

“on the shore, a lot of things wash up there” you hum, finishing up the make bandage on his shoulder using the thin jacket that was wrapped on your waist earlier.

You feel him nod and huff a breath like he wants to ask more.

“right, right. how about we search the beach later? maybe we can find more stuff that we can use” he asks as he slowly gets up from your lap, displaying an excited smile and you nod.

“does it hurt?” you ask impassively and he shakes his head.

You help him in standing up, carefully assisting on his elbow for him to not put weight on it and he laughs again. He’s been giddy all this time and you still have no idea why.

"i'm okay" he snorts and you elbow him.

"what's funny?"

You frown, brows scrunching as you eye him with annoyance. As much as you're still wary of him, you’re starting to get confused on how he can make you react this fast in everything that he does.

"you seem so caring now compared to earlier" he teases.

"you needed help, i'm not as heartless as you think" you glare at him and retrieve your spear from the ground.

“your words are actually the opposite of your actions” he continues.

“well, aren’t you an excellent observer” you snicker as you look around to check if you missed anything.

Jungkook on the other hand is just observing how you effortlessly gather your stuff with you. How for some reason, you still look gorgeous with your white mini sundress, a contrast at how tough you look with your tools on you.

"what?" you bark, raising one brow at him and he stops himself from laughing this time. He just shrugs with a playful smile and walks away, urging you to follow him as you both venture into the woods.

“jungkook” you call him, walking beside him now.

“yes?” he questions playfully, not sparing you any glance while looking up at the coconut trees around you.

“you better be taking this seriously after you heal” you huff.

“i already am, i swear! you have no faith in me, im offended” he complains with that fake hurt in his voice and you scowl at him before walking faster, now leading the path instead. He laughs louder this time, following you into some stream or river.

All jokes aside, Jungkook is truly relieved at finding another survivor washing up on the same island as he is. At least he won’t be alone while waiting for rescue anymore, plus you’re hot as hell so this won’t be bad after all.

taglist: @jungkooksbroski​ 

permanent taglist: @bluesharksandfish @taebkyun @sheprocrastinatesalot​ @iamscharene​

[gopeachllama]

Cuban Cigars and Cardinal Kisses

a.n/: ... ok in my defense, its still nessian month somewhere....

This fic was inspired by the mv of suit & tie by justin timberlake (the source of this AMAZING gif). its honestly one of my favourite mvs of all time. i watched again recently and it just screamed nessian to me so i wrote this. if you wanna get into the vibesTM of the fic then i highly recommend watching the mv before you read it!

reblogs and comment are highly appreciated!

Fandom: A Court Thorns and Rose by Sarah J Maas

Relationship: Nesta Archeron & Cassain

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Word Count: 5500

Ao3

~~~

Like most other nights at Velaris Lounge, there was already a drink waiting for the man at his arrival. Picked from their finest, and most expensive collection; a finger of Lagavulin’s sixteen years-old single malt scotch whiskey in a crystal tumbler, as so directed by the gentleman. Cassian Khan, six feet and two inches of fine grooming and tailored suit, strode inside through the exclusive entrance way. Liquor in hand, he stood for a moment, lazily scanning the scene before him with deep inhale. He welcomed the soft ambience lighting, the sharp scent of spiced tobacco smoke and the quiet chatter of wealthy men and women overlayed by the sensual drawl of jazz instruments. Cassian’s blood thrummed in time with the low rhythmic thump of the bass. Day light did not reach this place. The place where night – its sole ruler – became something wholly living, pulsating, breathing. This was Cassian’s home. His fucking castle. Sending a roguish smile and a wink to the waitress still standing-by, he headed for his preferred seat by the foot of the stage.

He spotted Rhysand before he sat down. His childhood friend was draped elegantly over his throne of cushioned velvet, one leg crossed over the other, and taking long drags from the joint between his lips. Wicked delight glinted in Rhys’ dark eyes as he watched his friend unbutton his jacket and drop into his own lounge chair across from him. There were no strobe lights directly over the area where they sat; the darkness surrounding Rhys wore him just as finely as his thousand-dollar suit.

Rhys picked up his own, amber-coloured drink and tipped it in Cassian’s direction, “brother,” He greeted. Opaque slivers of smoke curled out and around his teeth and dissolved into the air as he spoke. “Just in time.”

So, it seemed. Their other friend, Azriel, was nowhere to be seen. Cassian’s gestures mirrored Rhys’ as he toasted his friend and took sip from his drink. The liquor ran down his throat, smooth as honey, and he sprawled against the back of his seat. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and fished out two slim packages, handing one to Rhys and working on the other. Once the plastic wrapping was removed, he brought it to his faced and dragged the length of it under his nose as he inhaled. The aroma of spice and rich wood flooded his senses and he let out a low, satisfied hum. With an eager smirk, Cassian prepared the crisp Cuban Montecristo No.2 with sturdy, brown fingers. When he was done, he raised the lit cigar to his mouth and took a deep breath. Coating his tongue, expanding his lungs, and coursing through his veins, he allowed the heady fumes to fill him. And he came alive.

Cassian scrutinised his companion through the tendrils of smoke as he exhaled, “looking a little eager tonight, Rhys. A special night?”

“Isn’t it always?” Rhys drawled as he watched the sinuous bodies on stage from the corner of his eye.

Cassian couldn’t argue with that. Nights at Velaris Lounge seemed to exist in an entirely different space and time.

Cassian and Rhys’ continued talking, and there was no shortage of subject matters, with Cassian being the head of security for Rhys’ company. They usually avoided mixing work and pleasure, though Rhys’ often proclaimed that both could be the same thing under the right circumstances. Cassian was inclined to agree.

Soon, the conversation was swallowed up by a lull in the music and a dim of the lights. Cassian readied himself by settling further into his chair. The music quickened in tempo, and anticipation charged through air as trumpets beckoned the start of the performance. His arrival was announced through the speakers, in a sweeping, grandiose declaration.

His best friend since childhood, and the remaining member of their trio; Azriel glided onto centre-stage with hard forged confidence. A lit joint in one hand, and a crystal tumbler in the other, Azriel sang. Smoothing, melodic sounds as he moved around the mic stand with loose limbs and an easy smile on his face. It always warmed Cassian, seeing his friend like that. Seeing how he changed when he was on his stage. So different to the man he was outside of this place. To how he used to be. It was a gentle, endearing reminder to Cassian, of their struggles, their triumphs. Of how far they’ve come – how far he’scome and never looked back.

The bass thrummed, trumpets shrilled, and drums pounded. The timbre of Azriel’s voice streamed effortlessly alongside the various overlaying pitches of the backup singers. The song was all jazzy and funky at the same time, that had Cassian idly tapping his foot in time with the beat. This performance was unfamiliar to his ears. Usually, Azriel made the effort to rehearse his potential performances with his brothers present. And though this wasn’t the first time, it still occurred rarely enough that it had him slightly arching his eyebrows up in surprise.

Before he could think anything more of it, the tempo of the music changed, lowering in pitch and slowing to a steady beat, the rhythmic thump of the bass vibrated the ground at his very feet. The lights flashed before going out completely, blanketing everything under darkness. There was a charge of bated breath in the air, but Cassian was never afraid of the dark. Blood thrummed through his veins in anticipation.

A single spotlight turned on and landed on centre stage. Revealing Azriel’s silent retreat, as if he had melted into the very shadows. But she stood there, in his place. Cassian’s breath hitched at the unfamiliar figure. Burnished gold hair spilling down her back, long legs clad in thigh-high stockings and stiletto heels. And black laced lingerie, covering across her generous breasts, her perky ass, and a garter belt strung around her at the dips of her waist. Piercing steel-grey eyes.

She stood for a breath. One, two, three. And then shemoved.

Cassian catalogued it all. Every flick of her fingers, every sway of her hips, every arch of her back. The gleam of her pearly-white teeth anytime she smiled just wide enough. And Cassian knew, that even when this was all over, she would continue to haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

The pale strobe light casted over her in black and white. Highlighting the curves of her body, with shadows mingling in every dip. The valley of her breast, the ridge down the middle of her toned, flat stomach, the notches of her spine. Cassian felt the phantom press of marble on the tips of his fingers, and they flexed uselessly on the arm of his chair. He wondered if it would feel just as cold if he caressed her unblemished skin. Every now and then, her skin would shimmer; it was beads of moisture that got caught under the spotlight. Perhaps it was droplets of her perfume, that he could smell the barest hints of this close to the stage. Or maybe it was her sweat. Cassian couldn’t tell the difference with the scent. Not that he cared one single bit.

He blinked, and in the next moment, she was on the ground, hands and knees on either side of the turned over mic stand. She dipped low, her cleavage only a breath away from the cool surface of the stage. Then, she reached down her body, and thrusted the mic stand through her splayed open legs. Cassian bit down on an audible groan. She was steel forged in fire and melded under the steady beat of a synth bass drum. It was a brutal, devastating kind of beauty. Cassian may have been a little bit in love. And undeniably rock-fucking-hard in his pants.

In on final turn, she was on her back and propped up on an elbow. Then, so slowly, in time with the bass, much like his own thundering heartbeat, she raised one leg. It stopped for a beat when it was perpendicular to the ground. And she waited, like she knew there was not a single breath being drawn in the room. Like she knew all eyes were latched onto her. The movement was slower, again, when it continued. She stretched herself, and Cassian lost the battle to look away from the thin strip of black lace nestled between her thighs. Her leg eventually rested on her shoulder, held there with a single finger twirled around the heel of her stiletto. The music dropped out completely, and silence consumed the Lounge. The air went heavy, a tangible taste in Cassian’s mouth. And then she tipped her head back, hair flowing to the floor in golden waves, and basking the length of her neck to the single spotlight above. The corners of her mouth curled, oh so slowly. Her cardinal red lips standing out on her pale skin, like blood spilt on pristine marble. She smiled, shamelessly, secretly. The sight of her wide open to the patrons of the Lounge and filthy promise stained on her lips; so debauched, Cassian could hear Rhys shifting in his seat breaking through the silence. He felt the burn in his lungs from the lack of air, but he didn’t dare to move in the slightest. Afraid he would shatter the moment completely. But before Cassian could think to greedily take in every inch of her, the stages plunged into darkness once again. And when light returned, she was gone, and Azriel was there. The mic stand up righted, and a casting knowing smirk. At him.

The music went back to its previous tempo, as strobe lights flashed and soft chatter resumed within the audience. But it was all a dull noise in his ears.

“Who is she?” Cassian sounded a little breathless.

Rhys continued to watch the space she had just vacated. “She showed up a week ago, asking for a job. We told her that we weren’t looking for any new dancers… And she just stripped right there, down to her under-things and started moving. She didn’t even wait for the band,” He turned back to Cassian, and that wicked smile was back in full force, “Az hired her before she even finished her piece.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” There was a slight edge in his voice, but Cassian never got his answer. The music ebbed, cueing the end of Azriel’s performance. As usual, He didn’t linger for the moderate applause. Grabbing a glass of liquor off a tray waiting for him at the base of the stage, he stepped off, and headed straight for his two friends.

“Spectacular as always, Az,” Rhys remarked as Azriel loosened his tie and dropped into the remaining empty seat. Cassian saluted the arrival his friend with a tip of his drink in his direction before upending in one swig and signalling for another one. He pulled out a fresh, new Cuban from his pocket and passed it to Azriel. The latter knowingly took his time. Getting it ready with deft, scarred fingers before finally bringing it up to his lips before, again, taking a slow drag from it. Cassian’s whole body thrummed with question; the words mingled on his tongue along with the sharp aftertaste of expensive whiskey. But Azriel beat him to it.

“So, Cass. How do you like your birthday present?” flicking an eyebrow upwards, he smirked around the cigar propped in the corner of his mouth.

Cassian tensed and waited a moment, carefully choosing his words. “My birthday is in July, jackass.” But Cassian was never the careful type.

Rhys gave a short laughed before replying, “we’ll take that as a thank you.”

“Hello, boys,” A sweet voice came from behind Cassian’s ear. It was once of their long-time waitstaff-turned-dancers. A gorgeous, lithe, little thing. Dressed in sleek, black slacks and a sheer-laced bralette. And even though they smiled politely at both Cassian and Azriel, and placed a new drink in front of the former, Cassian knew the real reason for their appearance.

“Doll,” strobe lights glittered in Rhys’ eyes as he reached for their hand and pressed a kiss onto delicate fingers, “you were absolutely exquisite tonight.”

The dancer melted as they dropped into the space under the man’s arm. And even Cassian marvelled at the way the ambient light made their black skin glow like obsidian.

Azriel sent a soft smile in their direction, “Tarquin,” he greeted with a slight nod. They went to answer, but words were all for naught when Rhys began ghosting his lips along the crook of their neck and shoulder.

Cassian went back to the important matter at hand, “her name?”

Toying with the lace at the edge of Tarquin’s bralette, Rhys didn’t bother to look Cassian’s way as his smile turned feline, “Narcissus.”

He waited for more but when his friend didn’t go to elaborate – more interested with tracing his tongue in the hollow of Tarquin’s collarbone – Azriel did it for him. “It’s an alias, of course. But she had that look in her eyes, you know? Like she was one of us. It didn’t matter to me what her name was.”

Narcissus. The word struck a chord deep within Cassian. And even though he didn’t know her real name, he had to have her. He may go mad if he didn’t. Perhaps he already had. One of the staff girls melted from the shadows and spoked into Azriel’s ear. His gaze shifted to behind Rhys’ head and Cassian followed it with his own to a couple sitting a few tables down from them. She was halfway on her partner’s lap, rubbing idle circles into his splayed thigh and giggling at whatever he was whispering into her hair, while he met Azriel’s stare from the corner of his eye with wicked promise. Azriel’s lips tipped up lazily from one corner when he returned his heavy gaze back to his friends.

“The couple over there would like to express their praises,” He just said.

Cassian scoffed and Rhys waved an idle hand, “I’ll see you in the morning then, brother.”

Azriel stood and drained the rest of his drink before meeting Cassian eye with a slight tug of his mouth and flicking his chin in the general direction of the bar behind him. Cassian jerked his head over his shoulder and scanned the length of the bar. His attention snagged on a familiar small back, and stockings and stiletto clad legs hooked around the leg of a bar stool. He almost lurched from his seat as he looked back to the two men with him. But Azriel was gone. Already at the other table, one hand placed on the man’s shoulder and pressing a kiss onto the woman’s cheek. Tarquin was straddling Rhys. His friend lightly caressed a single finger up and down their spine while his other hand remained draped across the back of the lounge as the pair traded deep kisses that would have been inappropriate in any other public setting. Cassian and his two closest and longest friends; well, they never made the habit of saying goodbye to each other. He left the sitting area and headed for the bar.

Cassian stepped up to the bar just in time to hear a low voice ask the bartender, “scotch. Neat.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “From the finest bottle for the lady. And make it a double.”

The lady did not move to face the newcomer. Only with a slight tip of her chin, she watched him with piercing, unreadable eyes as he watched her. All of her: loose golden hair, long neck, straight back, legs crossed, one hand on her knee. She sat on that bar stool like it was her throne. She wore a slim black dress now, hiding nothing Cassian hadn’t already seen for himself when she was on that stage. He flexed his hand at his side and sent her a cool, suave smile.

“On the house,” he said as he settled into the stool next to the dancer. “For your captivating opening performance at the Lounge.”

When both drinks were handed to them, Cassian tipped his toward the woman and took a generous swig. “I’m-”

“I know who you are. Mister Khan,” she cut him off, luscious lips in a straight line and manicured nails rapping on the bar surface.

Cassian was thankful that he had already sat down, for he would have been rendered to his knees at the mere sound of her voice had he not. It was the slight curl of her tongue, and a curve of her lips, that gave it a breathy, raspy sound. She had a faint accent. French. If Cassian hadn’t already decided to take her to his bed, he most certainly did now. He wanted to know how his name would sound from those sinful lips. He wanted to know what her moans sounded like. Her cries of extasy. Her laugh.

“You are my boss, no?” She asked, peering over the rim of the crystal glass at her mouth.

I am if you want me to be. “Technically.” Along with Rhysand and Azriel, they all own equal shares of Velaris Lounge. “But I prefer the term benefactor.”

There it finally was. A small tug at the corner of her mouth. And Cassian relaxed, satisfied at the sight of it. She eyed the Cuban cigar that was still between Cassian’s fingers. Without any further prompt, he offered the unlit end to her. She took hold of it between two lithe fingers and brought it to her mouth. And Cassian watched in utter reverence. As if the scene unfolded before him in slow motion. Her lips wrapped around the thick end of the cigar. And Cassian’s hand curled hard around the edge of the table. shadows swarmed into the hollow of her cheeks, as she inhaled. And Cassian stopped breathing entirely. Her eyes flashed as she watched him the whole time. As if she could see. Somehow, in the dim, ambient lighting. The cinch in his jaw. The sudden, unbearable tightness in his pants. As if she could hear. Somehow, over the entrancing melody of jazz instruments. The depraved thoughts going through his mind. Of the way he ached to know what her lipstick would look like smudge all over his cock. And then, as if she knew. She curled her lips slightly around the cigar, before removing it from her mouth. Leaving behind a perfect imprint of her cardinal stained lips. Teeth grinding together, Cassian had to physically force down a groan.

Doing anything at all to wade through the thick haze of arousal clouding his mind, he rasped, “so how has the lounge been treating you so far.”

“This place is called the city of dreams, no?” she said, “I never believed that, until I came here. That it could be this simple.”

Cassian couldn’t help the pride that bloomed in his chest. One of us. Azriel had said. “What do you dream of?”

Her eyes wandered behind them to the stage, remained there for a heartbeat, then returned to him. Resolve glinted in them. “To have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

A dangerous smile overtook his features, “well, Velaris is the kind of place where getting everything you want is just the beginning.”

She turned in her seat to fully face him. The slit of her dress shifted in the process, exposing the entire length of her thigh and the laced hem of her thigh-high stockings around it. Cassian’s eyes dropped to it instantly. And like some compulsion, his idle hand went to ghost a single finger over it. She didn’t move away.

“And what is it that you want, mister Khan?” those words ran smooth from her lips, like the expensive scotch she held in her hand.

Cassian wanted to be set ablaze by the heat in her ember eyes.

“I want to know your real name, sweetheart.”

The woman blinked slowly. “Why should I tell you?” she breathed. Her voice now barely over a whisper. The casual glances to his lips occurred far more frequently.

“Because,” Cassian’s words turned heavy as the atmosphere became sharp, like a kindle before a flame, “I need to be able to remind you what it is when I’m fucking you so hard that you won’t remember it.”

If she was flustered at his crude language, she hadn’t shown it. Cassian had no doubt that a woman such as herself was used to receiving such propositions from all kinds of people. She only regarded him; one second, two seconds. Then, her eyelids fluttered, and her lips curved slowly. She smiled; that same secret smile she had given earlier. To no one in particular, on that stage where no one could take their eyes off her. She brought the cigar back to her mouth and took a long drag. The glowing end that illuminated the space between them was nothing compared to the inferno of desire raging within Cassian. Pinning him with an unwavering glaze, she leaned forward, as delicate tendrils of smoke curled around her blood-red lips like silver flames. The last of it danced along Cassian’s cheek when she drew close enough to whisper his damnation.

“Nesta.”

***

The first time he fucked her that night, they barely made it to the couch just beyond the foyer of his penthouse apartment. Cassian took Nesta as she was when he first laid eyes on her. Midnight laced lingerie, garter belt, thigh-high stockings, stilettos, and all. Her dress and coat, and his tie and suit jacket were promptly discarded somewhere by the front door, as he pushed her down on knees and elbows, and pressed her face firmly into the soft, cool surface. Cassian was enthralled, possessed, savaged. And he barely had half the mind to rip open a condom and roll it onto his cock, as he moved aside the damp slit of her panties to reveal a swollen, throbbing cunt. Nesta was ready for him. He had made sure of that when he spent the better part of the drive home with his hand up her dress, as cunning fingers rubbed at her clit over the rough material of her panties. He was pretty sure there would soon be a speeding ticket with his name on it. But he couldn’t bring his self to give a fuck. He only hoped that the image taken by the speeding camera; of Nesta moaning and writhing in the passenger seat of his European sports car, would dissuade the cops from sending it. Cassian wound his hand around the back of Nesta’s garter belt and fisted the other into her hair, as he fucked her in ruthless, powerful thrusts. He came, harder than he ever had in his life. Spilling into the condom inside of her with bruising fingertips and clenched teeth. And Nesta followed not seconds later, with Cassian groaning and uttering filthy fucking promises into her skin.

He fulfilled those promises, just moments later. When Nesta was barely over the throws of her earth-shattering orgasm. Her ruined panties and stilettoes were gone, and her lace bra was push down beneath the curve of her breasts. Her sensitive nipples puckered from the earlier onslaught of Cassian’s tongue and teeth. She mewled at the feeling of the heated skin of her ass pressing onto the cool granite surface when Cassian lifted her onto his dining table. Anticipation pooled in her eyes like molten silver when two rough hands spread her knees wide apart. Cassian never considered himself a religious man. But there was something so unequivocally holy in that moment; Nesta’s gasping and moaning her pleas in abandon, while Cassian knelt and worshipped her flesh. Fingers and tongue worked in expert harmony, as he tasted every inch of her sopping cunt.

When they finally made it to the bed, Nesta was bare down to only her stockings – at Cassian’s adamant insistence. Her soaked panties were left with his thousand-dollar suit; crumpled on the dining area floor. Her bra and garter belt were practically torn off and dumped along the way of their frantic journey to his bedroom. Her long, burnished gold hair was spread generously over his charcoal bed sheets, like golden silk on molten rock. Briefly, Cassian wondered if those lavish strands were long enough to brush against the plush carpet on the floor, while her head was tipped over the edge of his bed, and his hard length plunged deep into her awaiting mouth. Cassian banished the thought instantly, lest their latest coupling end far too soon for his liking. One stocking clad leg was thrown over his shoulder. While the other, was pressed into the memory foam mattress, held down hard by a large, muscled hand. Cassian was drunk on the sight of Nesta like this. She was wholly stretched out by him; beyond anything he has ever attempted before with anyone else. And he silently thanked whatever depraved God watching over them, for her lithe, dancer’s body that could take it, and then some.

The blush that began at her cheeks, slowly made its way down her neck and to her chest. Mascara was smudged around her glazed eyes; faint tracks of it running down her face and into her hairline. The sleek lines of her dark red lipstick were nothing but whispers of what it once was on those beautiful, luscious lips. Perfect, cock-sucking lips. No doubt Cassian would find the rest of it imprinted on his plush, Italian leather couch. At that point in the night, Nesta’s mouth was open in a constant ‘O’ shape. Her pink, wet tongue periodically coming out to tangle with his. She was a sight of pure debauchery. And it was nothing short of a masterpiece. With each powerful thrust, Nesta body jerked with the force of it, her supple breasts bouncing in tandem. And Cassian was hypnotised by the rhythmic movement of her hardened nipples.

Cassian had taken many women to his Californian king-size bed. Beautiful women. Exquisite women. Some of them shy, some of them playful. And most were downright sinful. But Nesta. Nesta, Nesta. Cassian Khan felt like one of the greats. Like fucking Michelangelo, like Sandro Botticelli. Seeing how he was making her writhe beneath him like that; manicured fingers twisted in the bed sheets, arched back, neck bared, skin painted in the soft glow of the spectrum of city lights glittering through the floor to ceiling windows. Seeing how she was open completely, and unyieldingly to him. Taunt flesh rippling under the pearly skin of her flat stomach. Her soddened, swollen cunt, stretched deliciously around his considerable girth. She was priceless renaissance painting that belonged in a museum for the world to see. The Dance of Narcissus, he would call it.

With a guttered groan, Cassian broke through the moans, the pants, and the slick sounds of rock-hard flesh rubbing against soft, wet flesh. “Sweetheart, your pussy is perfect. Like it was made for me.” He couldn’t look away. At Nesta stretched out before him. A precious oasis to a dying, dehydrated man. He would do anything. Give anything – his cock, his time, his money – to keep her coming back to his bed.

“One day, I’m going to fuck you raw. Would you like that, sweetheart?” Nesta could only whimper in response. Which spurred Cassian to go faster, deeper. Harder. “I’ll fuck you so hard. Stuff you so full of my cum, you won’t walk properly for a week.”

Cassian snaked his free hand up her body, fingers caressing over her sensitive skin along the way. He drove it into her hair and gripped harshly onto the strands at the back of her head. “You’ll get up on that stage, and dance for all those filthy-minded men. But it’ll be me dripping out of your tight, little pussy and down your gorgeous legs.”

“Cass!” Nesta cried out. Desperate to touch him, she reached out, digging her sharp nails into his tensed bicep. Cassian welcomed the pain.

“Fuck Nesta. So, fucking perfect for me.” He knew he was close to his release, but he wanted her clenching around him before that. With hard tug of her hair, he made Nesta look him in the eye. Cassian felt the muscles of her thigh trembling at her impending climax beneath the hand that held down her leg to the mattress. “One more time, sweetheart. Come for me, I know you can.”

Nesta shattered around him, just like that. Never taking her eyes from him the entire time, as she gasped and thrashed beneath him. Incoherent words spilt in between each heaved breath. Cassian could only comprehend a word here and there; it was mostly in French. And he didn’t stop. Even as she cried out, begging for reprieve. Begging for more. Cassian pushed her legs even further apart, driving deeper into her limp, pliant body, brushing against places that had never been touched. A bead of sweat rolled down the length of his forehead and nose, before landing in the valley of Nesta’s breasts. Cassian breath stuttered as his cock tightened. And there were barely seconds for him to pull out completely from her over-sensitive flesh. Nesta choked at the sudden loss, but Cassian ignored her muffled protests. In one swift motion, he ripped the condom from his throbbing cock, and pumped the exposed length, once, twice, thrice. And Cassian came undone. He shouted Nesta’s name as ribbons of cum painted her breasts and stomach. Nesta. Nesta. Nesta. He chanted her name over and, and over again. Until he was nothing. Until her name was but an imprint forever in his memory. A promise.

***

They had fucked one more time. Hours later, in the watery, grey light of dawn. Cassian awoke to soft mounds pressed against his back. To tongue and teeth dragging along the stubble on his jawline, and a delicate hand wrapped firmly around his erection. There was nothing separating their skin from head to toe. Nesta’s stocking were nowhere in sight. Not that Cassian cared to look anywhere beyond what was right in front of him at that moment. They shifted in unison, and she straddled him. Somehow, in all their lazy moments, Nesta had already rolled a condom it onto his shaft, while his eyelids were still heavy with sleep. And before he had the chance to touch her, she wordlessly sank onto him, teeth embedded into her bottom lip. Nesta waited, impaled on Cassian’s cock. Adjusting to his sheer size despite already having him twice before. Her flush was gone, but her skin was littered with the evidence of their carnal frenzy from merely hours ago. The first light of day, lit hair up like a golden vail spilling over her shoulders. She was breathtaking, so he told her. But she had not paid attention to his adorations. No, for the first time since they met the previous night. Nesta drank the entirely bare, magnificent sight of him. Her eyes ran over his rich brown skin. Every mountain and valley of muscle in his arms and abdomen. The notch of his throat. The sharp, brutal planes of his face. His molten, hazel eyes. The intricate black lines of ink that spanned his pectorals and biceps.

“Homme exquis.” Nesta murmured softly, as she lifted her hips.

Bodies, supple and hard, moved together. Deeply, and slowly with the rising sun. Chasing any lingering tastes of Cuban cigars and single-malt scotch. Once more. Cassian would want to have her once more, to match the frantic, carnal passion from the previous night. But he restrained himself. Being too content with that moment in the silence of an early morning. With Nesta tracing his tattoo with fingertips and tongue, and Cassian’s nosed buried into her damp hair. She must have showered while he slept. And he was consumed with the scent of him on her. He thought of her using his shampoo, his soap, his towel, and something small and warm burrowed deep within his chest.

They found their releases with each other, Nesta right after Cassian. And when Cassian emerged from his bathroom fifteen minutes later. A towel wrapped low around his sore hips, and tendrils of steam following his steps. Nesta was gone with the final shades of night. But promises of her remained, littered all over his apartment. Stockings draped over the bathroom rack next to a damp towel. A lace bra, hanging off his bedroom doorknob. Black panties laid out on his granite dining table. A garter belt slung over the back of the leather couch stained with cardinal lipstick kisses. Cassian kept them all with a secret smile on his face. Later, when the night would return in all its magnificent beauty. He would put on a fresh, expensive suit. And He would return to his castle. To his friends. To Nesta. And he would do it all over again.