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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader

☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price.

☾ Word Count: 21,606

☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, intense fight scenes, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via drowning, a physical fight between a man and a woman in the middle of a storm, sexual dream sequences featuring making out, biting (light), grinding, reader having flashbacks of trauma, a lot of thoughts about reader's terrible parents, a sort of power imbalance in the sense that reader is in Yoongi's realm as a part of a deal.

☾ Published: July 9, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This was originally supposed to be two giant chapters, but I cannot manage my time in a way to write to ~40k chapters and also fit all of this in a way that is not overwhelming or feels like it makes sense, so I have chosen to do this in 4 chapters of roughly 20k words! Thank you to everyone who has hyped me up for this idea, helped me work out some ideas, or listened to me struggle to write this because I was so unsure about the chemistry between Yoongi and reader at first. I am really excited to be writing this and have taken this in quite a different direction than the original idea when I had when I watched the Lilith MV, but that's okay. I heavily draw on inspiration from the Lilith MV, the song Possession of a Weapon by Ashnikko, The Sandman by Neil Gaiman, the movie The Witch, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab and the original myth of Hades and Persephone (where I got the deal/living in Yoongi's world idea from).

Special thank you to my amazing beta team who really helped make this fic what it is and make sure it was legible: @theharrowing and @here2bbtstrash

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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.

#yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #suga fanfic #suga bts #yoongi series #suga smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #minors dni #minors do not interact

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kryptonbabe · 7 days ago

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🔥 Some hot takes on the women of the Superfamily:

Superwoman should be Kara Zor-el and neither Lois Lane nor Lana Lang – historically I know they came first, but in the universe it makes much more sense for this title to go for Kara (like in Kara Zor-el Superwoman in the Future State event, bring that costume back too, it's time to end the war on skirts, pants are cool, but skirts are not inherently sexist please and Kara is known for her fashion diversity...)

Let Natasha Irons be more than your LGBTQ / black token, we only see her as more than a background character in diversity specials and she can be way more interesting than that, she fought a powerful sentient AI in Superman and the Authority and it was so cool, she could be a valuable member of a team (any team except Suicide Squad please), let her shine even if she's not necessarily the main character

Don't make Lois Lane a super-powered person (unless it's really quickly just for fun or an old-timey throwback), let her be cool for her own merits, regular humans can have interesting abilities you know (some would mention Batman as an example even). She's an awesome investigative reporter and she could have another series, even if a limited one like the 2019's Greg Rucka, Mike Perkins one. Lois had a super popular series (Superman's Girl Friend, Lois Lane) from 1959 to 1974, she deserves the spotlight

If you need to give powers to Lana Lang make her Insect Queen again, let my girl be weird, she's very underutilized these days either way (and I don't know... bring back Bee-boy, he had only one appearance but sure it was a tragic and bizarre story, he would do a fine super-villain or... a Doom Patrol member! This could be a whole arc about how he has his life destroyed, his heart broken and goes on a path of rage until the Doom Patrol reaches out and he finds a new family... but ok enough of Bee-boy)

Let's stop trying to make Karen, aka Power Girl, into a Superfamily member (I'm looking at you 2023 Power Girl series), she respects them, but her family is the JSA, she actively refused multiple times to be associated with the Superfamily, not because she hates them, but because she makes a point of being her own woman, creating her own legacy. She's a proud and sometimes hardheaded person yes, but that's her personality and that makes her different and interesting

Where the fuck is Otho-ra??????????????????

#supergirl #kara zor-el #superwoman #lana lang #insect queen #lois lane #otho-ra #natasha irons #steel #karen starr #power girl #bee-boy #superfamily #superfam #superman #dc comics #dc #comics #thoughts

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dreamofjoys · 1 year ago

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DAY 3 KINKTOBER 2023

7 min in heaven? More like 7 days inside you!

Main Masterlist + Rules / Next Day of kinktober (4)

A/N: Please read the rules on my kinktober 2023 main masterlist before proceeding. Rule breakers will be blocked.

Characters involved (separated): Malleus draconia(TWST), Wriothlesly(Genshin), Ayato(Genshin), Nanook(HSR), Luo Cha(HSR)

Sypnosis: After getting officially married, you and your husband decided to finally go to your long awaited 7 days honeymoon in a resort at private island specially reserved by your husband! Those 7 days were meant to be fun and relaxing, but why are you so tired by the end of it?

C/W: Public pool seggs, fem reader, dubcon, reader wearing bikini, choking(malleus), no prep, teasing, nearly get caught (ayato), ya'll got caught in nanook's part, npc death (nanook), luocha calls you a liar

BY OPENING THE TAB BELOW, YOU CONSENT TO READ DC/SMUT WRITING + HAVE READ THE RULES

Day 3 Scenario

"Mhmmm, it's nice seeing you wear something like this once in awhile." Your husband compliments, eyeing your body up and down like a hungry beast. You are currently wearing a set of matching black laced bikini that hugs your body in the perfect shape while your husband is only wearing a simple black trunks. “Of course! I specially bought this set while I was out shopping, it looks pretty nice right?” You gave your husband a quick twirl of your outfit, smiling sheepishly at his flustered reaction of your boobs and ass bouncing. “Let’s not start something that we can’t stop, wife.” Your husband mumbles under his breath, but you paid no attention to him as you dived straight into the pool, beckoning him to join you. He follows you suit after, jumping into the pool with a loud whoosh as the water splashes onto you. You laughed, playfully splashing water back at him while avoiding the water that was being splashed towards you. "Oh no, a monster is trying to catch me!" You shouted at your husband, faking a tear and pretending to be scared as you "desperately swim away" from him, who was the supposedly monster. "Tsk, naughty girl." With one powerful kick of his legs, your husband instantly plunges himself forward, swiftly catching up to you. "Got my prey now." He mocks at you in a teasing manner, hugging you from the back to "catch" you. "H-hey! Let me go!" You laughed, squirming in his hold that seemingly tightens whenever your ass accidentally rubs onto his cock. "Wife," his hot breath fans over your ear, a hand sliding down to cup on your sex while the other holds onto your waist tightly. "I am going to claim my prize now."

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗨𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗔

You should have known that dragons are hunters that likes to devour their prey in an instant. Malleus is definitely not an exception. Despite being in a public pool, he has no problem tearing off your underwear, stuffing it into your mouth while his hand snakes forward to grab on your throat, forcing you to stand upright.

Malleus pulls his trunks down slightly, enough to just free his member from restraints before slamming it into your pussy. Why bother prepping you when you are so used to this?

"Mffmmm hnnng-" You tried to tell your husband that this is a public area and that really, anyone could catch you right now! But all you can do is to moan pathetically on your underwear while your husband fucks you upright in the pool. His free hand fondles on your breast, occasionally pinching onto your nipples and laughing when he feels you clench around him.

"My mate is so pretty~"

𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗟𝗬

"Th-thats very unprofessional of you! Wrio-" You gasped again when the tip of his cock kisses onto your cervix, making you squeeze tightly around him as you came in an instant.

"Dear, I think the pool water is going to taste like you now." Wriothlesly snickers, pulling his cock out with the tip just touching onto your labia before slamming himself back in, the water around you ripples rapidly at his powerful thrust. "Fuck!"

"Language, dear. What if people catch us?"

"B-but you are the one who started this! Hnng-" You were sure that nothing can convince your husband to stop fucking you in the pool when you caught sight of his wild lusted eyes staring back at you while fucking you into oblivion. Of course, Wriothlesly would definitely find joy in fucking you in the pool in your bikini outfit and watching you getting anxious at the thought of getting caught and drowning - not like he would let it happen to you.

𝗞𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢

"W-why are we do-doing this again?Ya-yato." Your face was flushed in a deep red as Ayato's cock slides in and out of you in an agonizingly slow pace. Your back was leaning on the edge of the pool, legs wrapping around Ayato's waist for support as he fucks you slowly.

"You just look delicious in this outfit, wife." Ayato pants, before diving in to give you a passionate kiss on the lips. You moaned into his mouth when his cock abruptly touches onto your sweet spot. You tighten your legs around him, hoping to pull him close so that his cock can once again give you the touch of heaven that you need.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a couple of black figure walking past. You instinctively tried pulling away but the iron grip on your ass says otherwise.

"Don't pay attention to them, sweetie. I am the main focus here."

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗞

The Aeon of Destruction pays no attention to your whines. He strips off your bikini and his trunks in an instant, letting the articles float on the pool as he maneuvers you into missionary position. Nanook literally folds you half, letting your back rest on the edge of the pool while fucking you relentlessly.

You want to yell at his sudden actions, but all that fell out of your lips was high pitched moans and the screams of his name. Nanook knows how to make the both of you feel good. He knows that one angle and position to aim for that gets your toes curling and eyes rolling to the back. The exact depth he should fuck himself in just to have your pussy walls grip onto his cock like a personal cock sleeve before coming all over him.

"Hey! You can't do this in public!" Somebody tried to stop the both of you, but one look from Nanook is all it takes for that person to burst into flames, leaving nothing behind but ashes.

Your mind was too fucked to process that you have just been caught and Nanook had just killed someone for stopping his fucking session.

𝗟𝗨𝗢 𝗖𝗛𝗔

"Let's do it discreetly, shall we?"

"H-how about we don't do this at all?" You shyly glanced at Luocha who only laughs at your suggestion.

"There's a first time for everything, wife."

"Lies! We did this yesterday for breakfast too!" You pout, wondering why your husband has been having such high hormones.

Many would think that Luocha was just purely back hugging you like a clingy golden retriever. Little do they know, he has your panties pulled to the side, his cock already found it's way to your insides. "But you like it when I do this, right?" With one hip thrust from your husband, you let out a sweet moan that only fuels the beast inside him to do it again.

"I like it be-better when we do it on bed." Luocha only smirks at your statement, hands reaching down to toy your clit, rubbing it in circular motions.

"Why are you lying? You just squeezed on my cock as if my actions are turning you on."

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hansensgirl · 10 months ago

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summary. | Mr. Hansen himself makes an appearance. (based on the aesthetic of my blog)

prompts. | Lloyd Hansen + Boss + “Aw, are you gonna cry?” + Overstimulation, requested by @ellethespaceunicorn.

pairing. | dark!boss!Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, past non-con, present dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, abuse of power, boss/employee relationship, smut, overstimulation, forced orgasms, praise kink, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, pet names, Sir kink, Daddy kink, implied sexual services, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

You sigh as you sit on your chair, resting your chin on your hands as you look around. You’ve done everything you needed to. Every single establishment owned by Mr. Hansen is in perfect condition, all thanks to you.

Not one thing can be out of place. It should all be perfect—just like your boss. You smile gently to yourself when you think of the older man. He shows up often, constantly making sure that things are going smoothly.

Even as the only employee around here, the guests are always happy. They’re sent by Mr. Hansen himself—personal recommendations. You have regulars, too, such as Mr. Rogers, Mr. Levinson, and Mr. Barber. Sometimes, the visitors come in battered and bruised. But they also seek company—which they find in you and your special services.

You shake your mouse to wake your computer up, organizing the spreadsheet of this month’s guests. There haven’t been too many, just stray travellers like Mr. Storm and Mr. Jensen. They were very kind to you and left a hefty tip behind.

The sound of a throat clearing grabs your attention. You look up to see the man himself—Mr. Hansen. You beam, pleasantly surprised. He never lets you know when he’s coming, but you always welcome him.

“Hello, sir!” you greet, watching as he picks up a lollipop from the jar you placed just for him. He pockets the candy and smiles at you. “How’s my best girl doing?” Lloyd asks, and you can hear the loud thunk of his duffle bag. You’ve got the best suite cleared out for him—always pristine and untouched. No guest is allowed in that room.

“I’m just fine, Sir. How are you?” you question, perking up. You love it when Mr. Hansen visits. You note that he turned the ‘Closed’ sign on. Perfect.

“I’m alright. Tired but victorious, as always,” he chuckles. You hum in delight. Mr. Hansen is untouchable—unstoppable. He is the best of the best. What he does can’t be taught.

“I have your room ready for you, Sir,” you announce, standing up. Your skirt flows around your thighs, and you wear the name tag written in Lloyd’s script. “Do you now? Great,” he smirks, motioning for you to lead the way.

You nod and do as he says, keeping a steady pace that isn’t too fast or slow. Lloyd whistles a tune unfamiliar to you. You reach the end of the hall and place the key in the lock, turning it and opening the door for your boss.

Mr. Hansen walks in and inspects the room for any flaws. You wait in agony and anticipation, hoping everything is up to his standards.

“Taught you well, huh?” he grins, placing his luggage on the bed. You would offer to unpack it for him, but the first time you did, he got upset. He said that you didn’t need to see what was inside. You can only assume there were rifles and magazines, along with money and equipment, to get himself set up for his next mission.

“I learn from the best, Sir,” you gently say. “That you did, sugarplum. That you did,” Lloyd agrees, pulling the curtains wide open. Sunlight beams in, and you remember that he has always preferred the darkness.

“Have you been good?” Lloyd asks, nodding his head. It’s a gesture for you to close the door, and you do exactly that. “Yes, Sir,” you promise. He pats the spot next to him on the bed, and you take a seat.

Mr. Hansen smells very good. You admire his scent, the one you’ve become addicted to. Sometimes, it’s like a ghost—haunting you even when your boss isn’t around. Just like his voice, his touch.

“I know you have… Got some stellar reviews from some guests,” he reveals, and you squeeze the edge of the mattress. “R– Really?”

Lloyd nods. “Yep,” he confirms, popping the ‘p.’ “Jake loved ya, sweetie. And Johnny? It’s like he’s a changed man,” he explains. You preen, happy with yourself. “Oh, thank you very much, Sir. Should I send a card? Or a gift basket?” you question.

“A card’ll do,” he declares, and you make a mental note. “You know what good girls get, princess?” your boss questions. Your breath hitches when he places a warm hand on your knee, moving upwards and pushing the fabric of your skirt.

“They get rewards,” Lloyd husks in your ear. His hand reaches for your panties, and he pulls them down. You let your boss do whatever he likes—he owns everything here, including you. Your body, your mind, and your soul. It’s all his, according to the contract you signed at first. You never read it, and you initially regretted that. But now you don’t.

Lloyd finds that you’re wet, and he chuckles. “You been thinking about me, puddin’?” Lloyd asks, tone laced with cockiness. You nod your head, whimpering when he begins to rub your clit. Involuntarily, you part your legs and turn towards Mr. Hansen so that he can better access your cunt.

“All the time, sir,” you whisper, moaning loudly when he picks up the pace on your swollen nub. “I know, baby. I think about you, too. Always do,” Lloyd admits. His words warm your heart; they make you shy under the attention he spoils you with.

You quickly ascend to a climax that Lloyd coaxes you through. “Yeah, that’s it—always so good for Daddy,” he praises. You whine as he continues to rub your clit, wetness seeping out of your hole and dripping down to your ass.

Your sounds are music to Lloyd’s ears. He could listen to you crying for him all day.

Mr. Hansen forces you to ride out your orgasm. He doesn’t stop his ministrations on your clit. In fact, he moves his hand quicker. The squelching of your pussy is almost embarrassing, but your moans drown it out.

You come, again, thrashing a bit as your pussy already becomes so sensitive. “Oh, Sir. It’s too much!” you pant, thighs squeezing together. His other hand pries them apart and places your legs onto his lap. “Shh, it’s okay. Daddy’s got ya,” Lloyd reassures you.

The older man forces you into another orgasm, and then another, and another. Your tender flesh is overstimulated—too much to bear, but you keep pushing. You want to be a good girl for Mr. Hansen.

Tears sting your eyes, and you look up at him, staring as you use Lloyd’s handsome face to ground yourself. He meets your gaze. “Aw, are you gonna cry?” Mr. Hansen asks, almost mockingly. You pout and nod.

Lloyd snickers. You know how much he loves it when you cry for him, so you let the waterworks flow.

Mr. Hansen shushes you, soothing his obedient little employee as he continues to make you come on his hand. It’s what a good boss does—and Mr. Hansen is simply the best.

#sab’s dark concepts (2023)#lloyd hansen #the gray man #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x y/n #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #chris evans #dark!#smut #lemon #drabble #request #sabs concepts

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kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 6 months ago

Text

Lady Celestine: Navigator of the Constellations:

The Forgotten Hero of Yore

The Merlyn of the KBASW (AU) & the love of Arthur's life.

Just to be clear Merlyn & Celestine are the same person it's just her disguise when she goes out.

For: @kirbyoctournament

Character Overview/Personality: She's the combination of Merlin from Disney's Sword & the Stone, Queen Eclipsa from SVTFW, Willy Wonka from (Wonka 2023 ), and Merlin from (the 2008 TV series).

She's an optimist... many of her peers mistake it for being naivety but in reality she's well aware of the darkness in the world... she sees it every day with her powers. Since seeing so many terrible things in the future she treasures the present and is always grateful for the things she enjoys in the now. (Also there's another reason for this....)

And finds the joy in the darkest of times...

She likes to be overly prepared... And tend to keep (*hoard) things they might need... Often tends to hold things she doesn't really need. With Arthus side eying her "You really need to keep that."

"Don't look at me like that Wart... WE MAY NEED THIS HARPOON ONE DAY WHO KNOWS & YOU'LL THANK ME LATER !" *proceeds to carry bloody harpoon home... with Arthur facepalming himself*

They actually did end up using that harpoon 3 months later & Celestine rubbed it in Arthur's face for an entire week. This constant hoarding led her to the first iteration of the Dimensional Cape, which started as a dimensional bag to store all her stuff. (LMAO).

This brings me to Celestine's wisdom & sass: similar to Merlin (the series & Disney) is filled with cleverness & comebacks. When she's doing her diplomatic work and out and about she knows how to do it "gracefully."But when she transforms into Merlyn, she lets loose exactly how Merlin is when he becomes Dragoon. Has no filter and becomes a chaotic old man throwing shade left & right

She hates' cursing so as resulting in hilarious, nonsensical words to place them: Fiddle sticks, biscuits, sweet butter crumpets, etc ~

Her future sight has made her a very empathic person... knowing the suffering of others in her visions. Creating a very kind, caring individual who wants the best for everyone, for them to be happy.

Keep reading for extra content & lore: (Which include spoilers for KBASW so tread carefully!) Other than that please continue...

Lore related content: (If you just want a short read)

In Denial (Oldest lore)

What Kind of King's in My Blood (Background info)

Celestine is Merlyn: (Most Current lore)

And fair warning I low-key wrote a novel... but there's a special prize at the end if you read all of it. (Extended Lore)

Lady Celestine serves as a catalyst for the anime Kirby series...

Now Celestine can't predict the exact future... only show potential paths. But her powers can guide people to the outcome they want and the path that constantly changing.

Absolom made Celestine focus solely on her future vision and trained her personally... He tried to paint himself as this kind saintly father figure towards her... but in reality, wanted to monopolize her ability.

He tremendous amount of pressure on the poor girl...(Mother Gothel Style "Mother knows best) Believing the only thing that made her valuable was her future sight. And one more thing about Celestine... SHE HATED HER FUTURE VISION! She didn't just see the future... she experienced it! Feeling all the raw emotions of the scene.

However, Absolum would guilt-trip her: "Oh you don't want to let everyone down... you're the only one who can do this... you're so special... you can't disappoint everyone..:

Causing her to grit her teeth and bear with it... Absolum was like a father to her she couldn't say "No." Plus it's not like she could let them down... One day she had a terrible vision foreshadowing the demise of Shiver Star...

The people of Shiver Star were infected by Dark Matter's essence... Nightmare & his demons robbed them and stole all the planet's resources... while the people were possessed and had their life sources absorbed by Dark Matter.

Celestine immediately ran to the other Heroes of Yore & Absolum.... for this and assured the worried child they'd take care of this... "don't worry we'll use this information and take care of it."

And they didn't just take care of it... THEY MADE IT WORSE! Seeing an even more terrible vision appeared before her.

Celestine: Wait I thought you said you'd-

Absolum: Oh but my child we did you said that planet was a goner anyway... they were already possessed.... it would be so wasteful if all those resources would fall to Nightmare...

Sir Uther: We cleared out the planet before Nightmare did. And killed all of those who were going to be infected & spread it throughout the galaxy... we prevented the problem before it even happened...*gives a wicked smile*

Absolum: Yes we couldn't have done it without you *gives a wicked smile*

Celestine couldn't help but blame herself for the downfall of Shiver Star... A few hours later Celestine's warpstar cracked-

"No problem... I think," Absolum

To remedy the situation, Absolum tried to fame concern for her but in reality was keeping her in the temple to hide that she was "broken." She could still tell fortunes just at random, they just had to keep her near the temple and store them whenever they came to her.

Absolum was still reeling at how could this happen... he didn't want to expose his little mistake. (In truth he knew he was working too hard and put her to work earlier than most, because of her ability... CHILD LABOR AM I RIGHT?!.) It was still too valuable, they can't risk having her break some more...

Thus, Celestine became a caged bird.

Uther felt that she was a failure unbecoming of a Hero of Yore and not deserving of her title. She can no longer do the ability properly and with her body always hurting how was she going to fight on the battlefield!

Along with that thought she be too emotional anyway... always trying to steer them to the future... the least amount of damage... HE WANTED PROGRESS! Often opting for the method that would get him results not caring about the collateral damage!

Icarus shares in Uther's sentiments, with the added notion that she got away with lazying around doing nothing. Just got to sit there waiting for the next prediction to come around. He & Uther were doing all the heavy lifting and she was still being treasured by Absolum... (he wasn't jealous of the attention or anything...)

Thus resulting in Icarus having the brilliant idea of sticking Celestine with all the political fairs (the paperwork). Which seemed like a good idea at the time (a decision they would all come to regret).

Unbeknownst to them... they had given Celestine all the diplomatic power in the galactic court. Managing to win over the galactic council with her charm and grace. Uther had always used his power to intimidate his ideals.

However, Celestine had a softer approach and was seen as far more likable in the... (this was before the council was corrupt and this was due to Celestine's influence...) Often resulting in the members to come to her for their problems. Uther couldn't beat her in this arena... being reminded all too well this was a political battle as well.

For Icarus, you see there was a... certain deal he wanted to part take in... a deal with Halacandra. Where did the GSA partner up with and believe that he could easily impress with his inventions... with their queen?! ( Minerva Mim - Magolor's great aunt)

What happened... the king was supposed to be here whys he spent an entire month sucking up to him who was this queen...

The queen was not impressed & ended up showing technology far greater than his... for the first time, Icarus was forced to eat humble pie... "How could this have, surely this is some sort of mistake shouldn't the king be here-"

"Oh he's dead... and unlike him, I'm not to be won over by pretty words and flattery now you offend me... why would I ever want to do business with a lowlife with you!"

Madam made sure to inform the GSA they would not be doing business with them & Absolum desperately wanted to get that deal. Then Celestine volunteered to remedy the situation & suggested inviting her here.

Absolum agrees seeing there is nothing to lose, Uther believes this was just a desperate attempt to try to be useful while Icarus is excitedly waiting for her to fail.

Meeting arrives Celestine takes care of everything personally and at the end of the day. Queen Minerva is all smiles and arrives with a contract, "Alright I've changed my mind, and I'll do the deal as long as I'm working with her."

Minerva wasn't interested in Icarus' inventions but Celestine's alchemic formulas were revolutionary. And just had to have her on their team.

Absolum was shocked and relieved... (maybe this girl had more than one use after all...) and was constantly praising her. And because of her connections with Minerva... she'll need a bodyguard now when she leaves the GSA base but what the why it was worth it.

And Icarus oh how badly he wanted to be part of the mixing pot, but he had to go through Celestine. Who was more than happy to reject his proposal and experiments. (Icarus never forgave her for this.)

She was becoming too influential now ... This resulted in Icarus scheming with Uther... to get rid of her.

Thus beginning the creations of the Ancients & the Halcandrans, with Celestine & Minerva leading the helm. Alongside Dairus Drosselmeyer (Minerva's right-hand man & Daroach's great uncle)... they created many of the legendary treasures... that were now scattered about the galaxy.

(These were kept secret from the GSA... Minerva knew the truth of the situation... for you see during the meeting she had hidden away Kirby's prediction not of him just defeating Nightmare, but the reawakening of Void Termina & Doomsday... and showed it to the Queen and she understood... that's the other reason why she said yes to her)

Minerva helps Celestine create the Kabu's across the galaxy and presents them as "safe houses for star warriors" but in reality, they were all preset guides to Kirby's prophecy.

And helped her create Triple Star... Thus the creating the vigilante Merlyn.... Her work as Merlyn didn't go unnoticed and the people of the galaxy started to recognize the hypocrisy of the GSA. Which made the Ancients & the other's blood boil.

This resulted in having Uther send in his send three of his best soldiers: Sir Nonsurat, Dame Morgan, and last but not least (you guessed it WART... I mean Sir Arthur.)

Kirby's prophecy spoke of "a match" to start the spark that would flame of a new era of peace...

Arthur- Match/ Meta Knight - Spark/Kirby - Flame

At the time she didn't know who it was; the prophecy was incredibly vague with which one it was. But she wasn't going to pass her knowledge to any of them without being sure. (She didn't want another Shiver Star incident to happen... not again...)

But how would she determine which one it would be... they all seemed the most unlikely candidates as "the match." How could she weed out which one... A TRAIL, A TEST, A GAME!

So like in tales of old, Celestine did these little tests of character... and would secretly tag along during missions. Giving them all a chance to see which one it would participate in... Giving them little riddles of the monster Nightmare would do. But she always gave them a choice... (breadcrumbing) and "can't force anyone to change."

However, three of them all seem annoyed at this except for... Sir Arthur was the only one captivated and interested. It takes a while for Arthur to accept Merlyn's but only after the events of:

What Kind of King is in My Blood:

That makes him actively ask for Merlyn (Celestine to help him change) and pretty much becomes Celestine's partner in crime. And as to become a willing student... merely wishing not to become like his master (Sir Uther).

However, their little sparring match still happening, with the condition that he should win... Merlyn's not allowed to be called him Wart... (Needless to say she fought him twice as hard.)

(This post-Celestine is Merlyn:) It goes into more detail about their relationship here but... I added a few things.

Romantic feelings only start after that...

Basically, before they knew they were head-over-heals for each other their love could never be in reality. Not just because of their positions but something else...

After her warpstar broke... she received a terrible vision of her body eventually breaking and her disappearing into star dust. Foreseeing her early death...

She had initially accepted but after all the friends she made (and falling in love with Arthur) she did everything she could to stay longer for them... Celestine tried to keep herself together as long as she could, and managed to keep herself alive a little longer (than she was supposed to) but now she could feel it... she was running out of time.

How was she supposed to tell her everyone... Minerva would be devastated, who was going to help Darius (& Minerva) with his creations, who would protect her followers, and stop Uther & Icarus from making the galaxy into a wasteland...

And worst of all she'd leave Arthur all alone & heartbroken. Who's supposed to tease him now, make sure he doesn't do anything reckless, keep that ego in check, make sure he isn't a prat, to remind him to smile and enjoy life... to laugh... oh her poor little Wart...

No there must be another way...she couldn't tell any of her friends... she wasn't giving up yet... However, little did she know that was the least of her worries...

Celestine was always careful with hiding her connections with her alter-ego... and Arthur, but there was one person who did figure this out. Sir Nonsurat; after Arthur had saved "Merlyn" from his grasp he started to see a pattern.

Arthur had been an accomplice to Merlyn's along... "HOW DARE ARTHUR, I KNEW YOU NEVER DESERVED YOUR POSITION AND WITH THIS YOU WILL BE RUINED FOR SURE."

Thus, Celestine received numerous horrible visions (she got them all at once)... of Arthur being found guilty in a trial. And at the end of each, Arthur had refused to sell her out, remaining loyal to her, confessing his love for her, and dying. And then she saw her demise as well... her body finally breaking right after... poofing into stardust.

Being completely overwhelmed, she burst into tears. Desperately searching for a future where they could both live... (a future where she could be happy with him.) However, it was either that she & Arthur had escaped and her body would explode and Arthur would be captured (by the GSA) and executed right after for his desertion).

Celestine couldn't help but believe that she had destroyed Arthur's future all because she had gotten involved... (it was Shiver Star all over again.) Just like in the other futures... what could she possibly do...

Perhaps...she could solve one problem with another...

So, before the day Nonsurat was going to turn in his report of evidence... Celestine had stolen it away. And with the help of Darius, they manipulated the information to frame someone else...

Nonsurat was infuriated once he found his evidence to be stolen... But he didn't want to cause an uproar, so he demanded a completed search of every squadron. Under the pretext "there is a traitor among us, and they've stolen my documents..."

A complete search required every general to be accounted for. Nonsurat observed Arthur carefully only to find him especially giddy!?

Arthur: I do hope the search is finished soon... The sooner we finish here the sooner I can give Celestine this-

Kit Cosmo: Code red! Everyone needs to come to the Courtyard immediately! Were under attack!

Arthur: By who?!

Kit Cosmo: By... Lady Celestine...

(She had already known Icarus was trying to take her down... so using her Nonsurat's evidence, she had successfully framed herself... handing it in in the guise of one of Icarus' informants.)

With the information he had put together and received, Sir Icarus concocted a false trail that Celestine was leaking information and was secretly in cahoots... with Merlyn.

Since it was a trial that involved someone as high-ranking as her... she knew the trial would exclude a select few. And since she knew Nonsurat would warrant a search... she knew it would be the perfect thing to keep Arthur out of the trail.

Celestine: Well, if I am going to get locked away... I might as well make it worth the sentencing.

It was at this moment that Celestine unleashed her demonic owl (she had hidden away) and bit off his head Absolum; killing him instantly. (Madoka Magica style). Icarus tried to stop her but failed Celestine resulting in his wings being ripped off. And officially went on a rampage letting out all those years of unbridled rage & sorrow she had kept in.

Then she remembered quickly about Kirby's prediction... quickly she created her own army of Hydro Clones... to leave them all at bay.

She went into her lab and quarters and destroyed every piece of magical research and Alchemic formula. She wasn't going to let them benefit & use her research any longer and most importantly to keep Kirby's predictions... but one person who managed to get through the army... it was none other than Uther.

Uther: I always knew you were a little witch~

Celestine: That was a sham trial & you know it ... You forced my hand

Uther: You should; 've stayed in your place, someone weak as you, you are not worthy of your spot as a Hero of Yore-

Celestine: Well you are not worthy of your spot as leader! You never were and one day you'll fall you'll see *at that moment Celestine received another vision-*

At that moment Uther thought this was the perfect chance to lung at her but this backfired... he accidentally ended up seeing Celestine's vision too... And it visibly shook him to his core.

Being overwhelmed by the very visions that plague Celestine, (claiming before she was emotionally weak, was causing him to be paralyzed by fear...) It was a vision of his throne crumbling down& everything he built and it was being led by one astral... he couldn't make out the face... was... was it pink...

Celestine tried to pull away so he couldn't see the rest of the vision... and ended up striking his right eye to stop him... Uther was left frozen while Celestine could feel her body about to break and desperately made her escape... But as she stormed out...

Uther: Will make sure you're vision will not come to pass I will find that pink warrior if it's the last thing I do... And I'll- you'll die by my blade gah- *Still paralyzed because of the vision & couldn't get up

Celestine: Sorry Uther... but I'm afraid that honor won't go to you...*runs out to find Arthur* I've already selected my champion...

In the commotion, Arthur manages to find her, desperate he reaches, Celestine:

Arthur: We have to... you need to run-

Celestine: Graduation time Wart *sees a cast of other soldiers & on-looker watching* - Let's see what you're made of! Just treat it as one of our sparring matches and we'll be fine-

After all the losses in their sparing matches, Arthur finally manages to beat Celestine... "Well done, Arthur- you've finally done it, you've w-" * Visibly starts to break... and falls- and Arthur catches her

(Celestine pulls up a smokescreen so no one can see them... however, three people manage to sneak in)

Arthur: Celestine, what's happening to you-

Celestine: I've come to the end of my time- due to my condition my body was bound to break... I didn't mean to hide it... I really thought I could beat the odds... I'm sorry War- Oh I guess I can't call you Wart-

Arthur: NO! If that's the case you weren't in the best condition- *starts crying* I didn't really win-, you have to stay *sobs profusely* You have to stay and call me Wa-Wart!

Celestine: Figures *chuckles...* it takes you this long to finally admit you like the nickname ... Thank you Arthur you made my life short all the worthwhile... I hope you can forgive me

Arthur: There's nothing to forgive Cel- Celty, *cries* I love you, please there is always something... There's always, you told me that... You're the greatest mage in the galaxy... there's got to be...

Celestine: I surely hope that light of you doesn't get snuffed out *smiles warmly* it's going to be hard Wart but remember this...

Keep your eyes open and beware of the bad in the world... but also hold on to the good as well... you don't have to look, just know that it's there... it'll keep you from falling...

(the quote that Meta Knight said to Kirby originally came from Sir Arthur... that was told from Celestine...)

And even should you lose your way I know you'll find it again... you'll always be a worthy king to me. I love you too Arthur... and I always will.... (*they share one passionate kiss*)

It was a kiss Arthur had so longed for, but it was laced with so much sorrow and joy all at the same time...

Arthur: I don't wanna let you go-* Gets knocked out by Minerva...

She had informed Minerva before the trial (and of course was devastated but was willing to fulfill her last request). And who stood behind her were Darius & Kit the only three witnesses to what really happened. Kit realizes that Celestine is Merlyn... She then handed off and knocked out Arthur to Darius & Kit Cosmo.

And made sure they promised to paint Arthur as the hero who defeated her. And fled the scene and Minerva went to her best friend and hugged her one last time... and fled with the others.

When they had all left to safety... she lifted the smoke screen only to see a hoard of Ancients led by Uther try to arrest her. She flew into the air Celestine had her Gravity wicked moment... as her body finally was about to shatter into pieces.

Celestine: I curse you all, *putting one final spell cursing the Ancients* (basically she's the reason why they all disappeared)

As her body started to implode they mistook it to be a suicide bombing and she was planning to take them all down with her... thinking quick the Ancients Crystalized to prevent the explosion...

But in that moment she has one final vision of Arthur taking the seat as leader of the GSA. She smiles and says "I always you could do it Wart *starts cry* It's just too bad I'll never be able to see it in person".

Arthur woke up in the hospital wing hearing... Darius & Kit recount the story of the incident. With the way Kit & Darius spun it was Arthur who saved the day... (Arthur realized this was all part of Celestine's plan: to give him a title that would protect him even when she was gone...) Arthur * began to weep* with Kit trying to comfort him the best he could...

Making Arthur (to the Ancients) irreplaceable... being able to take down a Hero of Yore when they (Icarus & Uther) could not. Being extremely grateful (and needing a new holy figure), gave him the title of "Holy Knight," and said they owed him one favor...

(So basically he got credit for defeating the love of his life & took her place as the GSA's holy figure...)

So in summary:

Before being detained, she managed to rip off Icarus' wings, blind Uther in his right eye, and kill about 500 Ancients. She was trying to escape only to be stopped by Sir Arthur, who defeated her in battle. But tried to escape only to be cornered by the remaining soldiers... and seeing she had nowhere else to run...

Despite the efforts of the Ancients to paint her as wicked, people could not believe in the shame of a trial. Especially Minerva, when she heard this false slander on her best friend (she had enough of it)... she declared Halcandra's formal separation from the GSA. Cutting them from Halcandra's advanced technology caused an even bigger scandal. And had put her down to silence her as well... removing her...

(What happened to Darius... well that's a story for later)

Ruining their reputation even further... destroying the pristine image they had built up until now. And those who were at the trail were split in the middle... On one hand, it seemed like she had gone on a rampage because of her unfair judgment and merely reacted because she was pushed into the corner. On the other hand, she had always been hiding away her true nature & hatred for all of them, and once she had been found out... she unleashed all of it.

Were both true...

As a result, the Ancients tried to erase her from existence... from the galaxy, with only the remaining Ancients & the Heroes of Yore remembering her... Celestine had become forgotten.` Basically, she was described as (by the Ancients) the unspeakable third who tried to destroy them all & maliciously take them down with her. And she had to be erased...

However, this did not remedy the situation... Uther was still haunted by Celestine's vision he must hunt down the pink warrior... he will not have his reign end. Icarus was all too happy to take over the Halcandra projects... however, was always constantly reminded of being reduced to flightless astral and still hates her to this day.

While everyone had forgotten Celestine: they all remembered Merlyn. But even though, "Merlyn" had become a legend, many doubted the actual existence... of this supernatural being.

However, there was one person who managed to remember her... and that's where her story ends...

Or maybe not...

Her crystallization saved her preventing her from exploding... So she was still alive in there. They tried to hide her crystal in a cave and seal it off so no one would find her... Little did they know that the cave held one of the dark portals of Morpho accidentally ending up in the underworld...

And guess who ends up accidentally winds up there.

BTW they got married in the Underworld

I actually planned this out to be a tragedy, but I ended up making them have a happy ending... (that I can't reveal just yet how it happens in the story)

BUT BEST BELIEVE OUR GIRL GETS EVERYTHING SHE DESERVES AND SITS ON THE THRONE WITH HER KING WHERE SHE BELONGS!

And if you read this long thank you for reading! <3

#kirby #kbasw #lady celestine #kirby oc tournament #sir arthur kirby #kirby oc #kirbyoctournament #sorry for taking so long #hope I'm not too late #celarthur #merthur

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romanarose · 10 months ago

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Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me <3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

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big-gay-apocalypse · 1 year ago

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// Power Girl Special (2023) #1

#beatriz da costa #fire #tora olafsdotter #ice #guy gardner #green lantern #power girl special (2023)

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joocomics · 10 months ago

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lights off

from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2023 *ੈ✩

pairings: oh seungmin x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 4k

summary: it’s christmas break and you’re at your fellow classmates place to work on your group project, but when the power suddenly goes off you start getting bored, cold and a lot more cozy

contains: sub!reader, college fuckboy!o.de, protected sex, dirty talk, oral (f!rec), pet names, choking (f!rec), squirting, overstimulation (f!rec), mentions of sexting/nudes, praise kink

read part two here

One thing you really dislike about your professor is that he never lets students pick their own partners when it comes to group projects.

If he did, you wouldn’t be here right now - at Seungmin’s place, literally having to beg for a crumble of his attention.

“Can you focus for just a moment please?” You rub the temples at the sides of your face, already feeling exhausted although you sat down to work less than twenty minutes ago.

You stare at the blank word document while the clicking sounds of Seungmin’s cellphone fill the silence of the room.

“Yea… I’m listening,” he says, quickly glancing up.

“To what? We haven’t even started discussing anything yet.”

You have no idea why he’s making it so much more difficult and time consuming for himself. This will take forever.

“Okay, okay,” he locks his phone and puts it on the table. “I’m all yours, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” You roll your eyes, then move onto your notes. “Let’s divide this into parts. It will be easier for both of us, and a lot quicker too. You will work on one thing, while I do another.”

“Sounds good.”

He drums on the surface of the table with his fingertips while you go through the notes, dividing them in parts. You feel his gaze on the right side of your face, and that brings a sudden flush to your cheeks. It makes you realise that you sit surprisingly close to one another.

“This is for you,” you slide the papers in his direction. He immediately sighs, tortured by the amount of words.

He opens his own laptop when his cellphone earns another notification which steals his attention again.

You know it’s rude. And kind of pathetic too, but curiosity got the better of you, and you secretly try to take a peek at the messages that keep piling up on his screen. However, his hands move too quickly, allowing you to catch only a glimpse of a red heart emoji, but no name.

It was expected. Seungmin’s reputation around campus is a popular topic of discussion, making it loud and clear that girls take up most of his time and interests.

His thumbs type for a few seconds, then freeze while his eyes read through the response. A smirk forms on his face, and you force yourself to look away, when his eyebrows raise at you. The look lasted one second, but you could still notice that there’s something different about his gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, shoving his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants.

Great. Looks like you’re working on this project alone.

As you watch his tall figure disappear into the corner your mind helplessly drifts to the detailed stories you’ve been told about him. The number of conversations you’ve had to sit through listening about his allegedly numerous hook ups, and his allegedly big size is more than you think is necessary. None of them left an impression on you then, but being actually here right now where you realise he potentially has done them… You hate to admit that you’re a little curious if some parts are really true.

After he comes back the words fly out of your mouth on their own.

“Who are you texting?”

“A chick,” he replies just as the screen vibrates for the nth time since you got here.

“Of course.”

He opens the chat, as he sits back on his seat. Whatever he saw on there makes his lips curl up in a playful grin, and he decides to turn it into your direction.

Your eyes widen after you take a look at the screen, and you bring up your hand to cover them, but too late.

You saw everything of the explicit picture.

“Jesus, I didn’t ask.”

“What?” He laughs at your flustered expression. “You asked who I’m texting.”

“I was asking about her name, not her boobs.”

“Aren’t you a prude.” He swings back and forth with his chair.

“I’m not a prude for simply not being interested in random strangers body parts.”

You drag the cursor on the computer screen, but not even knowing what exactly you’re looking for. Your mind suddenly fogs up from the realisation behind Seungmin leaving the table a minute ago.

Did he really go to the bathroom to take a dick pic?

“When was the last time you saw some?” He leans on the table, searching for your eyes. “In real life, sweetheart.”

However his gaze stops at your lips. Your eyes are nervously changing directions across the room, and it’s impossible to meet them, but he also finds the fact you don’t realise how hard you chew on your bottom lip fascinating.

“Was it too long ago?”

“Seungmin…”

You jump in your seat when out of nowhere all the lights in the apartment go off.

“Shit, no way” he cusses, looking around. “The power went off.”

Despite the low chances, he stands up to try and find at least one candle in the messy drawers, as he keeps the flashlight of his cellphone turned on.

It’s pretty dark in the room already, and when you go to the window you see outside is snowing again. Soon the white view is going to turn pitch black cause it’s pass five o’clock.

“Wait… Found one.” Seungmin shouts from the kitchen. “Must be my roommate’s.”

He returns, placing it on the coffee table and lights it up.

You both move to sit comfortably on the couch and read your notes, occasionally discussing some key points you can use for your project.

You thought about going home, because you have no idea when the power is going to be back for you to get to do actual work, but what are you going to do all alone without any internet? At least here you have Seungmin’s company.

That’s definitely something you never thought you’d prefer over anything to be honest.

It didn’t take long enough for the temperature in the room to drop now that the ac isn’t working. You’re snuggled up in a blanket, legs pressed together against your chest, as you take up the small corner of the couch.

Seungmin drops the pile of notes on the coffee table with a sigh and leans back, glancing at you. His blanket is placed over his shoulders, while his black hoodie is covering his hair.

“Do you want me to bring you another blanket?” He asks.

“No, thanks. I’m fine for now.”

The silence wraps around both of you again, and as a minute passes you find yourself thinking back to his question. As if he could see what was going through your mind Seungmin speaks out from the opposite corner.

“Soo…” his low voice makes a short pause before asking. “When was the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Why don’t we talk about the project instead?” You ask back sharply.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a downer,” he complains. “That’s all we did for the past sixty minutes, let’s give our minds a break.”

He’s right, your mind does start to feel a bit bleary, but is every single conversation you have going to revolve around sex?

“Two weeks ago?” He tries to guess. His brows knit together, confused at your pale expression. “A month? Wow, more than a month?”

“Yes, it’s been… over a month.” Why is he gasping like you’ve committed a crime? “Can you… stop overreacting now?”

“Damn… That’s tough.”

“For you,” you point out, sneaking even further into the blanket. Thank God he cannot see the new color of your cheeks.

“I’m just surprised, because you’re hot.”

You look up as if you’ve been struck by a lightning. The yellowish glow of his side profile vibrates in the dark while you search for any small hint that may tell you he’s joking.

Seungmin turns to face you, and you lock eyes for the first time since you’re here. He really is surprised, a lot. You have sex appeal that’s impossible to not spark a guy’s interest, it looks like maybe you just haven’t met the right one who knows how to handle you. He moves closer, sliding a hand under your blanket to find your feet. His fingertips graze the exposed skin of your ankle; so soft, it instantly awakes his dirty imagination.

“Seungmin…” you utter, surprised at the sound of your voice coming out suddenly so breathy.

“I love the way you say my name, Y/N.”

His words attract your body in a way you couldn’t even begin to oppose to, and you lean towards him, as he helps you uncover your body.

His hands attach to your hips, as you straddle his lap. The realisation of what you’re really about to do hits you the moment you’re face to face, close enough to exchange breaths.

“I can help you out, sweetheart,” he leans in with the assistance of your fingers wrapping around his neck. “I can make you feel good… like no one has before.”

The next thing you realise is that you don’t mind doing it at all.

Seungmin’s smug smile disappears the moment you press your lips together. You can’t tell who went for it first. You could only think about how captivating the feeling is. The taste he brings you when he invites his tongue in your mouth, the confident dance of his lips leading yours, the fact there was no build up - the pace was quick and wild from the start, and it only keeps growing more intense - all of this coming together gets you on cloud nine.

You gasp for air into his mouth when your lips separate only to meet again second later, while his hands go lower. When his fingers grip you tightly from behind, your hips instantly listen and you begin to rock slowly. You hold onto his broad shoulders concentrating on the swaying motions which at one point force Seungmin to break the kiss, and groan quietly, looking down at his lap.

He unbuttons your jeans with one swift motion before stripping you from your shirt. Your nerves go wild the more of your skin gets exposed, but the way his eyes hood from lust before leaning into your neck makes your worries get easily replaced from a new wave of arousal.

With arms wrapped around your naked waist, Seungmin takes his time in exploring your flesh. He enjoys the obedient way you stand in one place, only putting your hair away, so he can cover as much as possible from the delicate surface of your neck. But his half-hard on keeps twitching for attention, and he signals you by giving your hips a squeeze.

The unfamiliar, but sweet taste you have in addition to your steady grinding against his growing buldge, gradually turns his wet smooches into hungry sucking that will not go unnoticed later.

Each soft humm that escapes your lips makes him even more eager to already move his mouth in other places of your body.

“Damn, you already made me so hard, baby…” He mutters, moving back to look at you, but quickly unclipping your bra before that. “What am I gonna do?”

You smile shyly, tossing the piece to the floor, and that makes Seungmin’s erection twitch once again.

Your one hand hesitates a little over his thigh, taking the courage to change its position.

“Feel it if you want.”

He catches your tender breasts, groaning from both how they nicely fill his hands, and from how your palm skims lightly across his boner.

As his thumbs tease your nipples, Seungmin lets his tongue get another taste of your neckline. He makes an overwhelmingly slow stripe all the way up to your throat, causing your head to fall back. It’s wet and warm, and you cannot help but moan at the way your body temperature rises the higher he guides his mouth. You grip harder on his erection through his sweats, as your teeth grab your bottom lip after he finally reaches your chin.

“Take these off for me,” he says, adding a few kisses to his words.

You do as you’re told, while at the same time he gets rid of his own clothes. The view of his fit stomach steals your attention right away, and when he’s just about to hover over you, your hands curiously reach for his abs.

“Here, wear this,” he puts his black hoodie over your head after you sit up. “It’s too cold to stay like that as much as I love watching your tits, baby.”

If you weren’t feeling tipsy from his kisses earlier than you definitely do now, as the scent of his cologne stimulates your senses, and the warmth he left in the fabric steeps into your bones, making the shivers fade down.

When he slides fingers under the hem of your underwear you slightly lift up, so they can go away too.

He doesn’t waste time in settling between your legs, and your heart starts racing from excitement.

“Already so wet for me…” His hand brushes your slickness up and down with just enough pressure to get you to gasp. He smirks, spreading your lips apart with two slim fingers. “Such a pretty sight… Don’t even need to spit.” He bumps your wet entrance once with his fingertip, before moving it up slowly to your clit.

Even the way his breathing caresses your folds overwhelms you till you can’t take it anymore.

“Seungmin, please…”

You hear his amused chuckle, but you couldn’t care less right now.

“Please what, baby?”

“Touch me, please..” You plead, feeling your core warming up, and he’s not even doing anything yet. “Please—”

Seungmin watches with satisfaction the way your hips jerk up from desperation.

“Shh, stay still, doll.” His hands slide under the hoodie, pressing your body down.

The next second you feel Seungmin’s tongue going over your clit gently, letting you get used to the forgotten feeling. The delicate stripes evolve into teasing circles that go around your bundle of nerves with a growing amount of pressure. Your chest begins to rise much quickly, forcing Seungmin’s hands to shift from one part of your skin to another.

“O-oh… f-fuck..” Your fingers grip the long black sleeves tightly in a fist. “Feels amazin’…”

It’s been so long since somebody touched you intimately, but you would’ve remembered the feeling if it was even close to this, right?

Seungmin begins to slurp on your candy-like essence, containing the urge to rub himself against the couch from your rising moans. He isn’t done yet, but you already sound like you’re close to cumming, and he can feel your stomach clenching under his palms. He checks if he’s right by pushing a finger inside you. It automatically gets sucked in - slowly, because of how freaking tight you are, but surely. When his tongue goes back to stimulate your clit, your body begins to roll, but not that leads him to swallow the shame of humping the cushion, but the way you chant his name - loud, recklessly, while pressing his face further into your pussy.

“Seungmin, ‘m— f-fuck, fuck!” You squeal, as a wave of delight you’ve never felt before washes over you, causing your fingers to pull on a few strands of hair.

When you feel some movements, you quickly remove your hand, embarrassed from your action.

“Hadn’t tasted such a sweet cunt in a long time, damn sweetheart… I’m obsessed..”

You shyly avoid Seungmin’s gaze, but not for long, because he crawls up your body for an open mouthed kiss. His hand wraps around your neck without putting much pressure, but the erotic nature of it makes you mewl against his lips before locking eyes with his.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, you know that?”

Both of your mouths are now wet - glistening with a mix of your arousal and his own spit. The husky change of his voice gives you burst of shivers.

Instead of answering, you lower your hand to his clothed erection, rubbing the hard length. The wet spot you stumble upon sends butterflies to your stomach - you didn’t expect to see him so turned on.

Seungmin’s forehead presses against yours.

“Do you want it?” He asks, and you nod - too quickly, too needy, but you didn’t care about that right now either.

“Why don’t you talk to me, baby? Wanna hear your sexy voice, it turns me on...” his hand moves up, letting his thumb swipe your lips. “It’s alright… I’ll get those words out of you.”

The confident smirk returns to his face, before he stands up to take off his boxers. You follow his fit silhouette walking around the room, and the realisation that every single part of his body is crazy attractive slowly sinks into your fuzzy mind, as he rolls the condom onto his length.

You don’t realise how shamelessly you’re staring until he speaks up, already on his knees with your legs in his hands.

“Like what you see?”

You shut your eyes in anticipation when you feel him glide the head of his cock, spreading the slickness. Not a moment later his phone starts ringing, but he quickly reaches the table and turns the sound off.

You don’t know who’s calling, but you can make a good guess.

“Did she?” Your playfully curled up lips change drastically when he slides his thick tip through your entrance.

“Your answer is the one that matters, sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing his eyes, as another inch goes inside you. The tightness causes him to repress a growl and dig his fingernails into your plush thighs. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight, it’s crazy…”

“I like what I see…”

Your unexpected response moves Seungmin’s gaze towards your face that already has that fucked out glow he loves to see underneath him. He’s seen it so many times, but on you it looks different; so much more radiant and lustful it’s making him feel tipsy. His hand grabs a handful of the hoodie, exposing a small part of your waist. It’s too big for you, and that turns him on even more.

“F-fuck, baby…” Seungmin’s fist tightens around the fabric, as he forces his hips to move back and forth. His hissing gets lost from your mewls coming from the stirring way your pussy is expanding for him.

“And I like what I feel too,” you mutter through your moans, making Seungmin’s mind cloud up.

The veins of his arm appear vividly from the fact he’s giving his all in controlling the temptation to just push himself in one go. It was easier when you stayed quiet.

“I…” you stutter, getting more and more distracted from the building warmth. The lewd wet sounds from Seungmin’s movements take you slowly out of reality too. “I need more… more, p-please.. go faster.”

“You still have some more to take from me, sweetheart.” His eyes smile at you before his steady pumps stop, so he can insert the last bit of his throbbing length.

Your jaw drops in a silent scream after he hits such a deep spot for the first time. Your hand slides down to your lower tummy, as you already feel addicted to the feeling of being so full and stimulated.

Seungmin adjusts your legs on his shoulders with his hips now comfortably moving on their own. You’re taking him with ease - the rubber easily glides in and out from your never ending slippery moisture; it grazes your pulsating walls, letting him find your sweet spot without a problem.

“Holy shit, you feel amazing… so amazing, doll.”

His pants escape his hanging mouth in almost perfect sync with the steady thrusts, clashing with the airy moans slipping from your lips. Your face is prettily scrunched up from pleasure; your fingers constantly clenching the sleeves of his hoodie.

A moment later Seungmin drops down, trapping you between his two muscled arms.

That’s when your fingers unconsciously release their fists, automatically moving towards his broad naked shoulders. When your palms slide on his skin, enjoying the feel of his tense muscles underneath them, you see Seungmin’s eyes flutter shut. His hips quicken their pace, provoked by the way you grip his biceps for support.

He forces his eyes to open, as there’s a question that doesn’t leave his mind the moment he got you into his hands.

“Do you like it rough, sweetheart?” He fixates his attention upon your puffy lips, waiting for an answer.

“I… I-I think so..”

Your words sound more like a question, than a response.

“Tsk, poor pretty girl… I don’t think you’ve ever been properly fucked before.”

Seungmin forces himself even deeper. He swiftly bends your knees to your chest as much as possible, squishing you with his weight to the point they reach your forehead, as he gets balls deep inside you, leaving you speechless.

Every hit he makes with the head of his cock is perfectly aimed, followed by another that shoves inside you even harsher; even louder. Your eyes roll back while your mouth drops open once again. You were going to tell him to not slow down even for a second only if you were able to form words.

“A-ah, fuck—“ he groans, feeling so clearly how the pounding brings you closer to a second climax. “Cum for me again, baby, go ahead…”

Seconds away from your orgasm bursting, the smashing of Seungmin’s body becomes sluggish, but in the best way possible. He savours every second of the clenching and your nails digging into his hips until you come back to your senses with his tip pressed into your cervix.

“Good girl,” he taps one of your cheeks, lightly, but still enough for you to get the idea of how heavy his slap would be. “Now come here,” he says in the usual sweet manner he talked so far, however, you notice a new commanding note to it.

Your legs feel wobbly when you crawl to the opposite arm of the couch where he waits for you in the softly dim light.

Seungmin easily changes your posture by twirling you around and pulling your hips over the armset. The first thing he does when your feet touch the floor before going into the next round is to spread your butt cheeks as much as possible for a nice view.

“Fuck, baby, I can stay in this pretty pussy all night.”

“Mmmhp…” You howl with one cheek pressed into the couch cushion, as two of his accessorised fingers slide into your sore hole. You feel the rough metal edges of the rings grazing your walls, then the back side of your thigh as he pulls them out, leaving wet trails behind.

He grips hard on your ass the moment he shoves all of his cock in one unexpected push, earning a surprised yelp from your throat. The new position gives him the perfect angle to your g-spot, so he speeds up the pace immediately after lifting your legs in the air and holding them spread out by your thighs.

“Fuck, look at you taking me so well…”

You listen to Seungmin’s breathy voice behind you with both hands planted on the cushion, before zoning out from the overstimulation. The rubber around his throbbing cock is fully coated with juices, and the furious speed of his hips causes them to soak into the armset.

“G-god… feels s-so so good, Seungmin…” You’re not sure if your words come out coherent enough, but you need to let him know.

The bullying of his hips also results to your clit rubbing painfully into the rough fabric of the furniture, and turning red and swollen, but adding to the building pleasure regardless.

Seungmin gnaws on his lips while the jiggly motions of your ass make him want to mark it with his cum right there and then. He holds back the groans and curses at the back of his throat, so he can focus on your sweet whines. Eventually his one hand frees your leg in order to go up your heated spine. His palm slides under the hoodie after he leans forward, quickly finding the back of your neck, and gripping your throat.

This time he allows you to feel some of his strength - he squeezes with fingers, feeling all your strands of hair that are sticking to your skin from sweat. His rings print your flesh, repressing your breathing.

“H-holy shit…” He grunts, as he brings back the familiar burning knot in both your bodies, but times more intense. “F-fuck… moan my name, doll.”

Your lips tremble, but the only thing you do is choke pathetically on your whimpers. You can now feel how your entire pussy gets sore as well as your throat.

However, Seungmin insists on his wish by not loosening up his grip.

“Do as I say sweetheart or I’m fucking pulling out.” His threat meets only silence, and he scoffs. “Say my fucking name, slut.”

“U-uh… S-seun—“

You cannot find a way to say the rest of the letters, but it’s not necessary. The second Seungmin gets the small taste of you suffocating on his name the powerful climax flows through his veins, and he manages to quickly move his hand from your neck into your hair. He takes a handful of it, pulling roughly from your roots, as his cum fills the condom.

You’re not sure how, but he knows you didn’t cum yet. As his mind clears up from the overwhelming rush, he begins to land harsh slaps on your ass; coloring your skin by using more and more of his strength, while the metal rings make it sting even more.

When he starts to pump his fingers inside you, your legs go completely numb, threatening to slip your figure from the arm of the couch.

“Don’t tell me you thought I’ll just leave you like that, sweetheart?” Seungmin smirks, twisting his fingers in all the right ways.

“Seungmin… c-can’t ‘m gonna…”

Seconds later, from furious deep thrusting and multiple spanks, you feel your whole body crumbling down. Your jaw stiffens from pain, as you can’t close your mouth for a moment from so much wailing.

Seungmin slams his palm steady and intense, leading to you convulsing uncontrollably and lifting hips as much as possible, while cumming on his hand.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, trying so hard not to slow his thrusts, as you clench around his fingers and spray transparent juices everywhere on his couch. “Yeah, baby, just like that, fuckk, you’re so hot..” His cock instantly twitches upwards at your arousing squirt. “Let it all out, pretty girl.”

When the lights turn back on, and the jumble of emotions washes over you like a bucket of cold water, you realise that all of the stories about Oh Seungmin are true.

And now you’re a part of them.