#the idea of me working on my final project next year is a lot

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! ��� If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[highrook]

The creative crossroads: the road to Highrook

Even at the best of times It's hard to know which creative path to follow, but the last few years in the games industry  has seen a remarkable amount of turbulence. This has made the process of committing to a creative project even more stressful than normal. I’ve made and released multiple games over a decade, but each time I try to decide on the ‘next project’ I always find it difficult to be sure I’m doing the right thing. I mean it's a natural feeling, but it's not necessarily a fun one!

One of the most common questions in indie land (and any independent creative process) is… Should you make something because it might make money, or because you really want to make it. Whenever I’m at this point in my work I am reminded of Jake Birketts Venn Diagram. It's a simple but effective sanity check on any creative ambition.

I thought about this image a lot when prototyping the early versions of The Horror At Highrook. Perhaps the most unknown portion of the diagram is “Games with a market”. Highrook isn’t a game that fits neatly into clear existing market genres. It's a strange hybrid of interests and mechanics. It's narrative heavy, but it's not a visual novel. It's got deep systems, but it's also very visual and atmospheric. It's not a deckbuilder, or a roguelike, but has some elements of both. 

The mix appeals to me, I’ve always enjoyed stories and systems that weave in and out of different contexts, I love the fragmentary myths of Dark Souls, the alternative past-futures of Sunless Skies and Bioshock. I love the dream jigsaw of the final season of Twin Peaks, the slow build of lore in the Magnus Archives. I love the autonomy of Roadside Picnic and Stalker; environments where the stage exists uncaring of the audience Media where you need to piece together multimodal elements to grasp the story and direction of the world.

Highrook is like this… and even though the experience can be hard to ‘market’ - cosmic horror clockwork detective game anyone? - I know that I will be able to get up every day and enjoy my work. That's half the battle right? Completing any project is tough, but if your approach is cynical then reaching the end is doubly hard. If your ambition is simply financial gain, then cynicism might work… but that's not my path from the crossroads.

Highrook might be harder to sell and explain than the other ideas I was juggling. But people fell in love with the influences I've listed above, even when they seemed alien and strange. I hope some of those folk will enjoy what I’m making in the same way. And who knows, maybe being alien and strange is a cool marketable thing after all.

[alittlebitgoofy]

just realised that in september i'll be going into my last year of uni what the fuck..... oh god

[hedgehog-moss]

Last spring my neighbour asked if I could let Pirlouit mow the grass around his barn from time to time, which Pirou was happy to do at first but if I left him there several days in a row he got pretty sad about being alone (lots of wistful, melancholy braying). So this year when my donkey was hired for this job again, I went for a different formula: for the past few weeks I've been bringing all the animals to the neighbour's barn for an hour of landscaping services now and then at apéritif time.

The fence is extremely not Pampe-proof so I have to have my apéritif while sitting on the road in a strategic position from which I can toss a stick in her direction if she tries to escape, but other than that I've been really enjoying this peaceful evening ritual, just sitting there reading and watching the animals while feeling like I'm doing my neighbour a favour. Pirlouit doesn't get all the grass to himself anymore but I've learnt that he prefers to be rich in friends than in food.

You'll notice that Merricat is present in every photo, looking alert. She too has been hired, but for the thankless job of Thought Police. She may look like she's just napping on the warm asphalt with not a care in the world...

... but she is working! Keeping an eye on the llamas, always.

I've discovered that in a specific context my three cats can act as precogs and warn me of Pampe's future crimes. My theory is that they developed this skill because of Poldine, who loves cats. Any cat who enters the pasture will soon be noticed and (lovingly) chased by Poldine, who wants kisses. Cats not only do not want llama kisses, they don't differentiate between individual llamas. They are all potential kissers. So even if it looks like she's all relaxed, Merricat is constantly monitoring where the llamas are and what they seem to be planning. If we are on the other side of a fence and Pampe approaches it a bit too slyly, Merricat will jump to her feet, ready to flee (and I will toss one of my anti-Pampe sticks, and say NON.)

Merricat and I are a very good team! We've foiled several of Pampe's plots, but we need to be on the road for Merricat to remain wary (if we were in the pen Pampe's escape attempts would involve getting away from us and the cat wouldn't care.) Cars are rare so it's okay (plus it's so quiet you can always hear them coming), and on the few occasions when someone showed up and asked why I was having apéritif on the road, I pointed at Pampe and they were like, "Ah! Didn't see her here. Good luck!"

"Hedgehog-moss, you're exaggerating. Pampe can't be that—"

She is! She is. And she always seems to notice when Merricat is on a bathroom break and I'm absorbed in a book.

There was one evening though, when she got distracted by a fascinating new idea. I don't claim to know what's going on in this llama's head (except when she's looking at a fence, then it's easy) but as you can see, once I brought the animals to the barn Poldine started eating flowers, Pirlouit started eating grass, and Pampe started eating the wall.

After a moment she slowly circled the barn, then stopped and lay down right next to it, settling down in a comfortable position but with focused ears and her head still turned towards the wall. It was suspicious behaviour, but on the other hand she now looked so uninterested in the road that I decided to take a risk and run home to bring back some dinner—and she didn't move while I was away! I even brought Pandolf, who is usually banned from these soirées because he would disturb my Merricat alarm system. He was happy to be finally included.

It's unclear if Pampe was eating the wall, talking to the wall, or carefully examining various parts of the wall as Step 1 of 27 of a complex plan only she understands, but she stuck close to the barn all evening instead of lying in wait by the fence so I was able to have a picnic in the grass rather than on the road, which felt more bucolic. I know that "Pampérigouste has a new, mysterious project" is a worrying sentence but at this early stage (feasibility study) it felt to me and Merricat like a little holiday!

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[boydepartment]

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

[itoshiexx]

thin line

synopsis: four times itoshi rin said he hated you, and the one time he finally said the truth.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 5k (insane) | warnings: enemies to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin is a total tsundere and emotionally constipated, banter, teasing, one (1) sexual implication towards the end, i use the word hate a lot, kinda proofread

notes: oh my GOD. you have no idea how hard it was for me to write (and finish!) this. writer's block has been kicking my ass really hard and honestly i don't even know if i like this but i swear to god if this flops i'll kms. (jk. maybe. or not.)

masterlist sae's 4+1

i.

itoshi rin was a hater. 

he didn’t consider himself one, naturally. rin thought he was a pretty chill guy, but apparently, everyone who had some sort of interaction with the younger itoshi felt the same kind of vibe coming from him. at least, it was what his stupid teammates said after claiming rin was always hating on something — whether it was the line in the coffee shop being too long, every pass given to him by isagi or the librarian with “a stupid fish-face”.

on his defense, no one liked long lines, isagi had two left feet when it came to passing and the librarian was a fucking weirdo. even if he was a hater, he had a plausible reason for everything he hated. 

“itoshi.”

that included you, of course.

rin was pretty convinced it was impossible not to hate you. every time he entered your shared biology class, a mere look at you was enough for his irk to grow even more. everything about you was just obnoxious.

you were loud. and, although unpleasant, that wouldn’t be much of a problem if you just weren’t unable to shut the fuck up and stop rambling excitedly at every friend you met. and you had many. you were some kind of weird social butterfly with infinite energy for social interactions — in a way, you reminded him of bachira. 

but bachira was not always jumping at every chance to refute him with a know-it-all smirk. bachira wasn’t perpetually ready to throw witty remarks at his rudeness. and bachira definitely didn’t have a pretty gleam on his eyes every time he headbutted with rin.

in short, you were everything itoshi rin hated. and the worst part was that you knew. you knew how much your very existence annoyed him, and it seemed like you took as your life mission to make the next two years of his life a living hell. 

“itoshi.” your voice reached his ears again. well, maybe if he just ignored you, you would… “itoshi!”

“what the fuck do you want?” he snapped, diverting his attention from the match playing on his phone to look at you. “i told you not to call me that.”

another thing he hated — to be called by his last name. it reminded him way too much of sae, and that was something rin didn’t want to do. but it wasn’t like he was going to tell you that, so he’d rather let you think he just didn’t want you to address him at all. which wasn’t a lie, either. 

you gave him a puzzled look, tilting your head like an innocent puppy. a fake naivety, of course. “we’re not close enough for me to call you by your first name, though.”

“thank fuck.” 

your eyes rolled at that. “language, itoshi.” he glared at you again, and you fixed your posture, putting your hands on the back pockets of your jeans. the malicious smile you gave sent chills down his spine. 

“well, i just came to deliver you the news since you missed last period. there’s a project worth 75% of our grade to be delivered in two months, and guess what? we’re together!”

oh, hell no.

“you tell terrible jokes.”

“i’m serious, though. if you don’t believe me, just ask your friends,” you said, so absentmindedly that rin felt his blood pressure rising. he opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it. “and before you try, the teacher already said no one can work alone and that the pairs cannot be exchanged.”

his left eye twitched, and he was pretty sure all his muscles were tight and ready to combust. life just couldn’t give him a break, could it? it was like he was being punished — forced to work with you, of all people. what a fucking nightmare. 

how the hell was he supposed to endure two months of constant interactions with your annoying sassiness and the pretty curve of your lips when you smirked? it might just drive him crazy. 

“so, when can we start, partner?”

rin rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck on the back of his skull. 

“i hate you.”

ii.

the soccer field was probably the only place rin felt at peace. the smell of grass and sweat was as familiar as his home, much like the round shape of the ball on his feet and the path to the goal. despite his rowdy teammates and their dumb antics, there wasn’t much that was able to distract him and break this peacefulness.

“itoshi!”

there was still something, though. or someone, for that matter.

the shock of seeing you in his “happy place” was so big rin nearly tripped on the ball, successfully letting bachira steal it from him. the snickers from reo and isagi made his skin boil with anger, but his harsh glare was directed at you — the fucking source of all his problems. 

and no, he was not being dramatic. 

“what are you doing here.” 

it wasn’t really a question, more like a veiled threat; but you seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care about his reaction. something in him even thought you liked getting on his nerves. he was sure of it when you smirked.

“the project, dummy. we need to start today if we want to get it done in time. it’s pretty long, hence why we have two months.”

“i can’t today,” was all he said. 

“why?”

“because,” rin spat with venom on his tongue, “i have an important game next week.”

you stared at him in silence. rin would have thought about how the sun shining on your back framed you with a perfect halo and gave you a nearly angelic look if he wasn’t so busy controlling the heat on his face from your scrutiny. he hated when you did that. he hated you. 

“we have to start today, itoshi. i’ll wait until you finish practicing so we can go to the library.”

he hated your stubbornness. he hated your voice, too — how it sounded like a siren’s melody, ready to trap him and bring him to the bottom of the ocean.

“fine. suit yourself.”

the young itoshi turned around and went back to the field, ignoring aryu’s pestering and shidou asking about who you were and if he could have your number. rin pondered if a yellow card was worth shutting up the insect, but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want ego to bench him, especially when they were so close to the tournament next week. 

the rest of the game went pretty smoothly, although rin and his teammates could tell he had half of his focus on the sidelines, where you sat prettily at the stands with your laptop. a perpetual scowl was on his face throughout the rest of the match. you were so damn distracting it was annoying. 

once the match was over, some of the boys went home, while others continued practicing, rin being one of them. he was expecting you to grow tired and give up, especially considering it was getting darker and colder, but you didn’t waver. your face was still present on the stands, haunting him even if he closed his eyes. you even had the audacity to smile when your gazes crossed.

he hated your smile. he did. 

hours passed until every one of his teammates had gone home, and rin was the only one left in the field. deciding it was finally enough (and not admitting he was starting to worry for you), he stopped his moves, finishing up with a few stretches so that his muscles weren’t too sore. he stored the footballs on the cart and put away the cones, something that was already routine at that point since he was usually the last one to leave.

finally, rin walked towards you. 

“i’m done,” he said as he approached you on the sideline of the field. his gym bag was right at your side, and he ignored the electricity that sparked his skin when it grazed yours. 

your eyes averted from your laptop to look at him. “oh, hi! thought you’d take a little longer,” you retorted. “anyways, i’m done too.”

he stopped his movement. “what?”

“yeah, i finished the first topic. only fourteen more to go.” the giggle that flew out of your mouth reverberated through his body. rin watched as you stood up and stretched, looking away when your shirt rode up and a sliver of your stomach could be seen. you then proceeded to put your laptop away, and his brows furrowed. 

“i don’t get it. i thought you said… you said it was too much stuff to do by yourself.” you nodded, not even looking at him. rin kind of wished you did. “and yet you did everything?”

“well, yes.”

his scowl only worsened. “what the fuck? why?”

you slung your bag through your shoulder, looking at him with those damn doe-eyes that always sparkled so much. it was annoying. why did they remind him of the stars? and why did rin wanted to watch the night sky on your face?

“you said you have an important game next week, so i figured it wouldn’t kill to do the first topic by myself,” you answered. “don’t get used to it, though! you’re gonna have to help on the next ones, partner.”

the young itoshi ignored the stupid nickname, his brain still trying to catch up to everything. something just wasn’t clicking…

“so why the hell did you wait for me to finish practice?”

you didn’t even falter.

“thought you could use the company.” you shrugged. and although your voice was nonchalant, you were smiling. and not your typical mischievous smirk — it was a sweet, sweet smile, dripped in honey and all things good in the world. 

rin’s heart leaped on his chest. he could feel his cheeks becoming flushed, but he blamed it on the cold. 

coming to think of it, it was really cold. and you sat there for hours… if he looked closely, he could see your frame shivering from the lack of proper clothing. 

a little tsk came out of his mouth, and rin impulsively took off his jacket, throwing it on your face — ignoring the “hey!” you sent his way.

“what’s that for, itoshi?!”

“so that you don’t freeze to death, dumbass.”

rin had to admit your gaping expression was kind of cute. not that he would commit to memory or something… that would be lukewarm, and he was anything but lukewarm. especially when it came to you. 

“don’t get any ideas, though,” he said before you could retort, turning around to follow the path to his dorm room, “i still hate you.”

iii.

things were calmer after the game passed. rin often found himself at the university library with you after his practice, leaving around nine or ten, and walking you to your dorm building simply because he didn’t want to be bothered in case something happened to you. not like he was worried for your safety or anything.

you still got on his nerves, but the project was going surprisingly well. rin learned you were very dedicated and meticulous, meaning you put in a lot of effort to focus and make everything as perfect as it could be. he wished he could say his focus was also as sharp as ever, but the scent of your coconut shampoo always lingered on the study booths and made his mind fuzzy. 

it was tuesday night and you were both on your laptops doing research and writing on your paper, falling into the same little routine you established the past weeks. the library was nearly empty as usual — though you always sat at the furthest cabin because rin didn’t like to see, hear or speak to people — and the only sound in the ambience was the pitter patter of the rain. 

everything seemed to be going fine, but things changed when the rain got heavier and became a strong thunderstorm that made the lights go out.

“fuck,” rin cursed under his breath, looking around to hear other people mumbling complaints and the librarian saying she would turn on the power generator, asking for calm and patience. he squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed, and turned to you. “hey, do you think—”

then he stopped. 

the only source of light was the screen of your laptops and the occasional lightning striking on the dark sky, but rin could see you on the other side of the table as clear as day. and he felt his heart squeeze impossibly hard with the sight. 

you were shaking like a leaf, hands squeezed tight and nails prickling your skin, and your eyes were widened and so, so scared. he had never seen you wear such an expression, always familiar with your confidant, cheery self, and he decided he didn’t like one bit. 

“hey,” he whispered, trying to grasp your attention. however, your eyes were focused outside. “hey, look at me.”

slowly, your orbs met his, and rin felt his breath hitch. there were tears on your lash line threatening to fall, and panic began to rise on his throat; but he forced himself to stay calm for your sake. 

“what’s wrong?”

your lips trembled, but nothing came out. he hated your voice, but found himself missing it. so he tried again.

“are you… afraid of the dark?”

his question was answered when the sound of another thunder reverberated again, making you visibly flinch. his gaze softened when a small hiccup left your lips. 

“oh. it’s the thunder.”

you nodded, still unable to talk. rin could see you were forcing yourself to keep your sobs contained, as if the mere thought of crying in front of him was as dangerous as standing at gunpoint. like his words — venomous, harsh, cold words — could hurt you just as much as a bullet. 

his stomach churned with that thought. he hated it. 

so, as carefully as he could so as not to startle you, rin stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he reached the chair at your side, sitting on it. he felt you body tense with the proximity, more so when he slightly turned to stare at you, and felt the need to say something.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, so impossibly soft you could hardly believe it was itoshi rin saying those words to you. 

it was even more unbelievable when he enveloped your body in a hug, bringing your head to his chest as if to shelter you from the thunder. 

rin really hoped you couldn't hear the unrestrained beating of his heart. everything about that moment made him nearly combust; from the ever present smell of your shampoo when he rested his nose in your hair, the evident relaxation of your frame when he hugged you or the small arms that held his waist as if he was the only lifeline in the ocean. 

you let your sobs and sniffles run free, burying yourself deeper in his embrace, and all rin could do was pat your hair and whisper soft reassurances on your ear. 

it’s okay. you are safe. i won’t let it hurt you. 

he didn’t know how long you both stayed in that position, but as he enjoyed the warmth of your body next to his, your sobs eventually died out along with the roaring sound of thunder. the rain became thinner and the lights finally came back, although neither of you made a move to separate. 

the silence lingered for a moment before you broke it, “thank you.”

the male only hummed, trying to hide his disappointment when you slowly backed away. though his hand didn’t leave you, going from your hair to rest on your hip in some type of reassurance squeeze. 

“i-i’m sorry, it’s just…”

“you don’t have to explain,” he interrupted. then, hesitantly added, “only if you want to.”

“it’s not something big or anything… this fear has just kind of been there. i think something happened to me when i was a kid and it was thundering, so every time it happens i just… freeze.” you shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

he frowned. “it’s not stupid if it makes you this terrified. it’s okay, we all have fears.”

you were yet to look him in the eye, seemingly embarrassed about your triggered phobia. “i cried on your shirt.”

“yeah.”

“it has tears stains.”

“yeah.”

you sighed. “i’m sorry.”

he squeezed your hip again. “don’t apologize.”

you finally raised your head to look at him, and rin could very much consider himself a lost man at that moment. your eyes were glistening from the remnant of tears, but that pretty gleam was still there, barging its way through any sadness and any fear to present itself with the shy smile you sent him.

even if it was still dark, he would be able to see it, because you shined. brightly, scorchingly and so, so mesmerizing, like some sort of classic painting worth millions of dollars. if rin had the choice, he wouldn’t want to look away. 

“i think it’s enough for today,” you said, “do you mind if we continue tomorrow?”

“i don’t mind,” rin answered, although he secretly wished to bask in your warmth for a little longer. “i’ll take you to your dorm building. i brought an umbrella.”

because he knew you were a klutz and would most likely forget. not that he paid attention to you or something. 

you smiled again, and rin had to use all of his might to let go of you and go back to his chair to pick up his stuff. silently, you both put away your things and left the study booth towards the exit, where the younger itoshi opened his umbrella and started to walk towards your destination. he felt his skin burning when you tangled your arm with his so that you were squeezed together under the shelter for the rain.

around ten minutes later, you finally arrived at your dorm building. and then, as the little minx you were, you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before running inside along with your goodbyes. 

“thank you, rin!”

he stood there like a statue for what felt like an eternity, feeling his face impossibly hot. rin touched his cheek in mild disbelief, feeling butterflies erupting on his stomach without permission. 

it was only then he realized you called him by his actual name, and a smile inevitably took over his features. 

fuck.

itoshi rin hated you. but that day, he discovered that he hated seeing you cry even more.

iv.

he didn’t really know what the fuck he was doing there. rin was not the kind of guy who went to parties, much less fraternity ones; but somehow he ended up in one on a saturday night after a lot of convincing from his teammates. he claimed he only accepted so that isagi would shut up and stop pestering him, but the said boy insisted to say he only agreed after learning you would be there. 

which was absurd, of course. a completely crazy, delusional and absurd thought. why would he want your obnoxious self to go and ruin the party? rin hated you. 

right?

the music was loud and the people were even louder. there were dozens of bodies on the makeshift dance floor swaying to the beat, along with some people playing beer pong and small groups scattered around talking as best as they could. rin was part of the last type, although he was tuning out everything that bachira blabbed on his ear like a madman. his focus was solely on the entrance.

and then, you came in. 

it was like a stupid romance movie — the way everything seemed to be in slow motion. from the way you walked, to the slight movement of your hair, to the blink of your curved eyelashes. and god, how much he hated that. 

he hated the way your mere presence prickled his skin. how your voice soothed his lousy thoughts, how your smile lit up the room. he hated this urge inside of him to look for you every time he knew you'd be in the same vicinity, like you were some source of life that he couldn’t live without. 

“are you okay, rin-chan?” bachira’s voice took him out of his thoughts. he blinked a few times.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

now, rin wasn’t a drinker; the red cup on his hand was merely for show. but he gulped some beer at that moment, as if trying to wake up from a hazy dream or get out of a trance. it made sense — he did think you were a siren of some sort. 

there was no other reason for the spell you put on him. 

the party went on, and he spent a few hours avoiding you like the plague and pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at every chance he got. truth is, he was always paying attention when you were swaying your hips on the dance floor like there was no tomorrow, glaring at every guy who thought about getting close while holding back his own desire to do the same.

it was only when you left to the backyard that his teammates finally decided to say something.

“you should talk to them” reo advised, eyebrows dancing in a weird, wiggly way. rin grimaced.

“what? why?”

the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, tired of the younger itoshi’s behavior. 

“rin, man. you are clearly interested in them. and i’m pretty sure they’re interested in you, too,” isagi said slowly, as if rin was a child. “otherwise, they wouldn’t make the effort to pester you.”

rin could feel his face flushing. “i’m not—”

“don’t even try to deny it. it’s kind of obvious, really,” chigiri butted in, an exasperated countenance on his face. “just go, rin.”

he let out a tsk, chugging the rest of his drink and throwing the cup on the trash. “i’m going out just because i don’t want to keep listening to you idiots.” 

“yeah, right,” nagi snickered, and the others followed, watching rin turn his back and move towards the backyard, where he would inevitably find you. 

the chilly air hit his skin the moment he stepped out, and rin kind of thanked the relief it gave to his hot cheeks. quickly looking around, it was easy to spot your lonely frame leaning on the wall, staring at the stars as if they weren’t in your eyes. he walked to you like his feet had their own will, and once he got close enough, leaned the side of his body on the wall, facing you.

“you’re cold.”

not even a hello, how are you to start. great conversationalist, itoshi rin.

you turned your head to look at him, smiling when recognition took over your features. “hey, itoshi! didn’t think i’d meet you here!”

the giggle that went past your lips was the only reason he didn’t scowl when you didn’t call him rin.

“parties are not really my thing, but my friends convinced me to come.” you nodded, understanding. he blinked a couple of times, and said again, “you’re cold.”

you slightly flushed. “it’s just a bit chilly, but it’s not a big deal…”

but rin was already shrugging off his jacket, moving to be right in front of you as if to shield you from the wind. he handed the piece of clothing to you. “here.”

“oh… thank you,” you answered, bashful, taking the jacket and putting it on. 

last time he lent you one, he didn’t stay to see how you looked like. but at that moment, rin was sure there was nothing prettier than the sight of you in his clothes. he swallowed a nervous lump from his throat.

“so… why are you out here by yourself?”

“needed some air. i danced a lot and it was kind of stuffy in there.” you shrugged. then, fiddling with your fingers, you look straight into his eyes. “and maybe… maybe i was hoping someone would follow.”

someone. you had your eyes on someone. 

rin didn’t know what was worse: the stinging pain on his heart or the bitter taste left on his tongue. what he did know was that both felt like poison, one that would spread through his veins and consume him whole. and that he shouldn’t feel like this. because he hated you, after all. 

he must have made a terrible grimace, because you threw your hands in the air in exasperation. 

“for fucks sake.”

and then your lips were on his. 

it was just a fleeting moment — something way too quick and definitely not enough to sate the dormant hunger inside of him. in the blink of an eye, you were already back in your place, staring at him with doe-eyes and a hundred doubts written in them. 

rin freezed for a whole full minute with his mouth agape, until finally lunging forward to kiss you again. his right arm wrapped possessively around your waist to glue your bodies together, while his left hand found a place in your jaw, cradling your face as if you were some precious jewel. his lips were hungry on yours, and you gasped with the intensity, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. 

kissing you was exhilarating, like scoring the perfect goal or winning a championship. adrenaline ran high on his veins and his head was a little airy. and rin swore he never felt so alive. 

when you finally parted, you were both panting, chest heaving with every breath. rin rested his forehead against yours, directing both of his hands to your middle as if to look for grounding. 

“you still hate me, itoshi?” you asked in a whisper, mouth inches away from his but still not close enough. that dangerous gleam was still settled in your eyes, and he could swear you were the perfect definition of sinful every time you batted your eyelashes at him.

“call me rin.”

“okay,” you giggled lightly. “you still hate me, rin?”

he could feel his blood pulsing on his ears. “yeah,” he answered, way too breathless for an athlete of his caliber. 

and then, holding your waist tighter, “kiss me again.”

v.

“we should get coffee.”

rin’s words cut the silence as you were exiting the library yet again. you looked up to see his face staring straight ahead, expression unreadable as always, but the light redness on the tip of his ears told you all you needed to know. 

you decided to be a tease, as always. “hm… i don’t know, should we? you sure you want to spend even more time with someone you hate?”

he scowled like usual, but this time, there was a small pout on his lips. you thought he looked the cutest when he was like that, all shy and trying to maintain his stoic act. 

he grumbled something under his breath. 

“what was that?”

“i said,” he sneered, “i don’t hate you, stupid.”

you arched your brow. “you don’t?”

“do you think i would have kissed you if i did?” the smirk you give him is both charming and infuriating. rin would have said he hated it, but he was done pretending. 

“i don’t know, itoshi. you are kind of emotionally constipated.”

“shut up,” rin quipped. then, he snaked your waist with his right arm as you walked side by side, pulling you closer. “and didn’t i tell you to call me rin?”

there was just mischief in your eyes when you answered, “yeah, but i like to get on your nerves.”

the male scoffed, still in disbelief with your antics. 

“you’re a damn brat. i think you just want me to teach you my name tonight.”

rin could practically feel the heat on your face, and he smirked when he saw how red you were. god, you were so cute. 

“at least take me to dinner first before we hate-fuck,” you still managed to joke, despite the slight shakiness in your voice. he rolled his eyes, and pulled you to a stop by the arm. 

you both stood in the middle of campus, feeling the gentle caress of the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. it was a peaceful day, with the sun high up in the baby blue sky. rin thought there was no better time than at that moment. 

his hand traced your arm until it reached your own, and he squeezed your fingers in reassurance. 

“i don’t hate you,” he said again. “i just hate the way i don’t hate you. not even close. not even a little bit. not even at all.”

he watched your eyes light up and smile brighter than the sun, and he almost laughed at the disbelief in your voice. 

“did you just quote ‘ten things i hate about you’?”

it was his time to flush. a small shrug was all rin answered with — he didn’t want you to know he specifically chose this sentence because that was your favorite movie. not like it mattered when you were gleaming at him and making his heart leap on his chest. 

“well, then,” you squeezed his hand back, “let’s get coffee, rin.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[angelpuns]

CW WARNING FOR SIBLING/FAMILY DEATH, CW DEATH. Please let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

Finally finished this comic redraw of one of my oldest and also saddest comics to date :)

I originally planned for this comic to become a part of a bigger future/apocalypse au, but with the tmnt iteration and other projects I wanna work on, I figured it's best to shelve it. Not to mention I didn't have too many plot ideas anyway! It was pretty much a lost ronin lost years type au where Leo is haunted by his brothers :)

I also wanted to post this all at once due to the sort of...twist? I didn't want to have it sit there where you guys wouldn't know what was happening next. Best to get the hurt out of the way all at once!

I hope everyone enjoys it, I really enjoyed doing the extra color and finishing on this comic!! Also F!Donnie's design was pretty fun to draw!!

I don't have a link to the og version because I never posted it here, but I love seeing the huge improvement in dialogue and just drawing in general. It looks a lot more finished <3

Anyway, new birthday special update tomorrow! I hope that is enough comfort for you all because I will also get back to posting the spinoff comic and it is....similarly devastating to this one (no spoilers though <3)

[gavisfanta]

International student x Fermín

Reader and Fermín have been friends with benefits since she has to head home after the semester’s over but Fermín grows to have feelings for her and he confesses in the middle of sex. Something super teeth rotting, loads of fluff. Maybe Fer is a huge simp for the reader? If you’re comfy with this 😭

POLAND - FERMIN

summary: fermin will have to confess his feelings to you before you fo back to your home country or else its too late

a/n: not proofread, because again, I am lazy... sorry :D

warnings: smut, a lot.

It was simple at first.

"Sex only?" You asked while Fermin nodded his head.

"We're both too busy to maintain a relationship, so why not just agree to be sex buddies, besides that, you need to leave in 3 months. I mean we both enjoy the sex don't we?" Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. Your friendship was falling apart since weeks now. So you agreed.

You originally met him at the university in a class where you had to work on a project together. The connection between you two was felt immediately. He also was shocked that your Spanish was that good since you're from Poland, you only moved to Barcelona to study for a few years before moving there.

"And you're...?" Fermin pulled the chair next to you so he could sit down. You threw your hair behind your back after you looked at the fit blonde man next to you.

"Y/n" You couldn't help but smile at him.

"Beautiful name." He didn't try to hide that he was flirting, the smile and the way he turned to face you in his chair was so obvious. "I'm Fermin."

"Nice to meet you Fermin." You looked up at him, he was slightly taller than you while sitting.

"It's a pleasure for me. It's also a pleasure to be working with you, I'm sure we're gonna have a great time together." Fermin told you without paying attention to his surroundings.

"Mr López, enough of the flirting you have time for that in your free time." Your professor scolded him and you quickly turned your head the other way to laugh.

Fermin shook his head while looking down into his lap, trying to hide that smile that spread across his lips when you looked at him again.

-

Suddenly Fermin sat down next to you on the bench in front of the school. "What are your plans for next year?" Fermin avoided eye contact while you looked at him with a shocked expression.

"Um, hi?" You smiled at him while he finally looked at you. "I'm gonna move back home, I'm not from here."

"Wait, you're not spanish?" He turned his upper body towards you as his brows knit together. He raised his brows as you shook your head. "Your Spanish is incredibly good. Its fascinating almost, taking that you're not even Spanish." He stopped for a second while he looked away. "Where are you from?"

"Im from poland" You answered and he couldn't help but smile at your words.

"So you can talk to Lewandowski?" He laughed a bit while you just grinned at his words.

"If I ever meet Lewandowski I'll talk to him in polish, yeah." You laughed.

Fermin the smiled. "When I play in the first team with him, I'll make sure that you're gonna talk to him in polish."

-

"Are you free tonight or do you have to study?" Fermins face was visible on your phone as you held it infront of you. You were just taking a walk on the beach when the midfielder facetimed you. Fermin had to leave for practice in 10 minutes so he wanted to talk to you about his idea. Even tho his friends knew about the two of you hooking up, he hated to talk about that topic in front of them.

"I have to study, but I can maje some time, when do you get off practice?" You inhaled the fresh air coming from the ocean while your shoes kept sinking into the sand.

"Can I come over after practice? That gives you another six hours to study." Fermins lips grew inro a smile afyer he heard that one sigh that meant 'fine, you have convinced me'. And he was right. "Fine, but shower at the facilities, I dont want you using my shampoo ever again." You gwve him a strict look. The midfielder bit his lip whole he nodded.

"I will, see you later." Fermin looked at you and the blue sky behind you. "Bye" You gwve him a small smile and then hung up the phone. After his face disappeared from the display, your airpods started playing runaway by Kanye West again, the midfielder calling you had paused the music on your phone. You inhaled sharply and then went on with your day.

-

"Hey babe!" Fermins voice echoed through the hallway right after the door slammed shut.

"I told you to stop calling me that." You sung without even taking your eyes off of the papers infront of you.

"Hey Sexbuddy, does that sound better?" Fermin was standing behind you, his presence made you feel hot immediately.

"No, that just makes me sound like an object." Eyes scanning across your notes whike you talked to the midfielder.

"Babe it is then." Fermin leaned down to your neck, his hit breath against your skin gave you shivers. You sighed and then turned in your chair so that you could face him. You looked at him for a couple of seconds before turning around again and going back to your studies. He then put both of his hands on your shoulders and you exhaled deeply.

"I don't see you for 5 days and your shoulders are this bad? You really need to relax a bit more." Fermin told you and started to massage your shoulders. You threw your head back as his string hands started to enlighten the tension from your muscles.

"I know babe, my hands work wonders." Fermin whispered into your ear and you couldnt help but smile. Then you stood up and stood proud infront of him, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and shoulders pushed back. His hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, his big hands burning your skin with his hot touch. You were wearing a grey crop top with some black joggers.

You both knew why he was there, neither of you ever met up before to just talk with eachother. Maybe after sex he stayed sometimes but never just a normal meetup between the two of you.

"Let's go upstairs yeah?" You took Fermins right hand off of your body and interlocked your fingers with his. His lips curled up into a smile while he followed you up the staircase, his hand never leaving yours.

As soon as the two of you entered the bedroom, you closed the door and shut it behind yourself while Fermin shoved you against the door and crushed his lips into yours forcefully. Hot breaths were exchanged during the kiss and while Fermins hand slipped below the waistband of your joggers.

He then slipped them off then leaned down to grab your exposed tighs and lifted you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist almost naturally and your lips never leaving his while your hands wrapped around his neck.

Eventually he walked you over to your bed and leaned over you, his hands sliding underneath the crop top and pulling it over your head. That left you only in your underwear.

"Take off your clothes Fer." You started pulling at the hem of his shirt until he chuckled and took off his clothes.

"Needy much princesa?" Fermin who was only in his boxers leaned over you again. The temple in his boxers was so obviously visible as you looked down at his abs.

"You could say that-" You then put your hands behind yourself and unclipped your bra, pulling it off your arms. His gaze shifted from your eye to your tits, a smirk made its way to his lips.

"But what if you find out instead?" You pulled off your panties too.

Fermin has never pulled down his boxers that fast as he did that time. His dick jumping out of the white fabric material, tip red and pre cum glistening over it. He pumped his hand uo and down a couple of times while he put your left leg over his shoulder. Your pussy was on display for jim.

"You're so wet." He mumbled as he licked his fingers and spread it along your folds. You were too much of a mess fo answer him, so thats why you nearly screamed when you felt his tip enter you, and slowly he was fully inside of you. You threw your head back and arched your back off the bed towards him. No matter how many times you slept with him, you couldn't get enough of him once he was inside of you.

"Are you okay?" Fermin groaned and you nodded, your heavy breathing made him worry a bit.

You nodded, and as he began thrusting in and out of you, you closed your eyes. The room was filled with noises of skin slapping, his low groans and your moans.

"You're amazing" Fermin hid his head in the crook of your neck. His hot breaths burning against your sweaty skin.

You shut your eyes as he hit a spot that made you drop your jaw. Fermin noticed that he hit the right spot and kept hitting it, soon the warm feeling in your stomach started to build up. The aching feeling in your legs got worse as he grabbed both of them and put them over his shoulders, allowing him to reach even deeper inside of you.

Just after a few seconds his rhythm became uneven and you knew he was about to come. And just a few seconds later Fermin came and you felt his load filling you up.

He was panting heavily as he then made you finish too just a couple of minutes later.

"Are you okay?" He asked you after the sex.

"Yeah" You answered shortly, a small smile decorating your lips as you were still in shock of how good it was, once again.

"Good." Fermin said and then kissed your cheek.

-

"Hermano where were you yesterday?" Gavi walked up to Fermin in the dressing room the next day. The blonde midfielder jumped a little, he feared seeing Gavi that day.

Gavi had called him the previous day and texted him a lot of times. Fermin however didn't pick up because he was busy seeing you.

That wasn't the first time it had happened that Fermin didn't pick up or answer his phone because he was seeing you. That was exactly why Gavi knew what his friend was up to.

"At home." Fermin told Gavi in a nervous tone, he tried to hide it as much as he could from the younger midfielder but it was impossible.

"You were with Y/n weren't you?" Gavi sighed and looked away for a second before looking back at Fermin. "Listen you need to tell her that you have feelings for her."

Gavi's words made Fermins hair stand up straight, it almost gave him shivers. He was well known to the fact that he may or may have not caught real romantic feelings for you, but nobody had ever told him to confront you about them.

"I can't, you know that. What we have is just sex, we agreed on that." Fermin answered shortly and then turned back to the shirt he wanted to pull over his head.

"Your time is running out, how long until she leaves?" Gavi stood in that one spot while his friend kept changing his clothes.

"2 months." Fermin answered and avoided eye contact.

"You need to tell her as soon as possible." Gavi gave him a serious look before he turned around and made his way to his locker.

"mhm"

-

"Are you busy?" Fermin asked while you just walked into the locker room at the gym you were going to. A deep sigh escaped your lips as your chest was still rising up and down at a bit of a faster pace.

"I'm at the gym rn, I just got done." Taking the dark blue towel you always had with you and drying off the sweat off your forehead, Fermin smiled on the other end of the phone.

"I'll pick you up and we'll go back to your place, is that good?" Fermin asked.

"Yeah, just hurry, and I'll need to take a shower when we're there." You explained while already grabbing your hoodie so that youre not walking around with a sports bra only.

"Perfect me too, see you soon." Fermin hung up the phone with a wide smile. You on the other hand wasn't so smiley. So when Fermins car stopped at the side of the road and you were able to get in, he notoced immediately that you were in a bad mood.

He leaned over the center console and pressed a kiss on your lips, your eyes immediately widened and you pulled away from him.

"What are you doing?" You raised your voice a little as you looked at him shocked. Fermins smile had faded and he just loomed at you, confused while hie mouth was slightl open.

"I kissed you" Fermin tried to justify himself and he began to drive while you grabbed the seatbelt.

"Why here, do you want anyone to see? Do you want the media to know that we're fuck buddies?" You asked, Fermin just stayed quiet while he focused on ths road and listened to you. He knew that you were right but it still hurt him a bit.

So he mumbled a quiet "Sorry" and you scoffed while pulling out your phone.

Fermin on the other hand was biting down on his tongue while he really tried to keep his mouth shut. He just got the confirmation that you would never want to be his girlfriend, you dont wanna be seen with him.

So he stayed quiet, until he parked down the car in front of your apartment. "So you're still down to fuck?" Fermin asked, speaking way too fast but confident while he looked at you, brows knit together.

As soon as you heard his tone you turned your head confused. "Are you seriously mad now?" Your brows were raised and the midfielder scoffed while shaking his head and turning off the car.

"Let's go inside, since you don't wanna be seen with me anyways." Fermin mumbled as he opened the door, it was difficult for you to understand the last part because he had already stepped out of the car.

"Fer, come on" you walked a bit faster so you could catch up with him, he walked to your apartment and unlocked the door with his key. Then he turned around as soon as you closed the door.

"So you still wanna get laid? I see." Fermin nodded without even trying to hear you out. You tried to speak up multiple times but he always just answered with "no" and cut you off, until you had enough.

"Could you just shut the fuck up for a second and hear me out?" Your voice loud, it made Fermin shut his mouth immediately, he now looked at you with raised brows and big eyes. "i never said I dont wanna be seen with you, I said I dont want people to find out that we're hooking up. That's only for you, because you know how everyone is, they'll say stuff like youre distracted by me and all of that. I don't like you kissing me in public for your careers sake." You spoke way too fast which left you with a lack of air after everything you said.

Fermins mouth was hanging slightly open and he was speechless, he felt like an idiot. Not hearing you out when what you did was completely right, you were right. Now the regret washed over him and he buried his face in his hands.

He lifted his head again as he mumbled a quiet "Sorry" while looking into your eyes with all honesty. "I'm so sorry, you're right." Fermin told you again, this time you didn't just stand there, taking a step closer to him, you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head against his body.

He also put his arms around you and immediately he felt safe, he felt like everything in the world was okay again. That was when his eyes widened, however you didn't notice that. The truth was, Fermin was scared of his feelings, of his romantical feelings towards you.

He didn't want to fall in love with his sex buddy, what was even worse that you were leaving soon.

You pulled him back from his thought as you looked up at him due to him being slightly taller. "I still wanna get laid tho." A smile displayed on your lips while Fermin was looking back at you with an even bigger one.

Before he however did anything, he leaned closer to you and carefully put his lips onto yours. His hands pulling your hips closer and for the first time, the kiss you two shared wasn't rushed, wasn't contained only of moans and heavy breaths, nothing sexual, just you two sharing a kiss.

Then you pulled away and then slowly started backing up into your bedroom, laying down on the bed, you took off your shirt. You smiled as he walked even closer to you.

"Hey it's 'The Best Sex You've Ever Had' what can I get you?" Fermin moved up his hand to his ear and pretended to talk into a microphone.

"I think I'd enjoy missionary," You smiled cheekily and Fermin nodded his head. He pulled his shirt off and after you both were naked, he got on top of you, admiring your body while he teased your entrance with his tip.

You threw your head back as he pushed inside you and you felt his dick twitch against your walls.

Then he slowly began to pull out and push in again. He repeated that for a whole while and eventually also added to your overstimulation by rubbing your clit. You both came at the same time and Fermin collapsed on top of you. Howver you convinced him that it's totally fine to do another round. So he oushed inside of yiu again, it didn't take long for him to feel on edge. "I'm about to come." He groaned while closing his eyes shut.

"Come inside me Fermin." You told him to which he just responded with a low and silent groan.

"Fuck, I love you" Fermin whispered without thinking and suddenly you immediately stopped moaning and looked at him still pumping his dick in and out of you.

"What?" You asked and took Fermins jaw to make him look up at you. He stopped his movements and looked up at you.

"What did you say?" Your voice sounding unsure, in that second Fermin realised what he said and his eyes widened.

"Nothing" He tried to ignore you and went back to thrusting inside of you, harder and faster this time but you stopped him again.

"Fermin stop, talk to me." You told him and he immediately stopped again. "What did you say?"

"Nothing"

"Shit Fermin I know you said I love you." You told him while you sat up and pulled a blanket over your legs.

Fermin opened his mouth but no words came out. He had to think everything he wanted to say through. "I don't know why, it's just- its just everytime I look at you I get this funny feeling." He explained, while the only thing you did was cover your mouth with your hand and look to the side.

"Fer we agreed to sex onl-" You began but he cut you off.

"Obviously we did, do you think I chose to fall inlove with you when you're literally leaving for Poland soon?" Fermin raised his voice a bit which made you look back at him.

"I don't know what to say honestly." You shrugged your shoulders and then looked away again.

"Listen I-" This time you cut off Fermin.

"I think you should go home." You told him and Fermins mouth opened slightly. He looked away for a second before making eye contact with you again.

"But-" He began but then stopped mid sentence. "Okay, I'll see you later." He gave you a faint smile while he grabbed his things and went towards the door. You flashed him an awkward smile and then watched him leave the bedroom.

THE NEXT DAY

"You have to tell him that you like him too." Luca whispered to you and you raised your head immediately to cover up his mouth with your hand.

"Are you mentally alright? Don't say that when he's right across the room?!" You whispered back aggressively and he laughed a little bit.

"Why won't you tell him though, you got the conformation that he loves you back." Luca still tried to convince you ans eventually you released an annoyed sigh.

"I'm afraid to start something with him that I cannot finish if I have to go back to Poland soon" You said and Luca furrowed his brows while he thought of a solution.

"Just stay here then" He shrugged his shoulders as he suggested. Your eyes widened and you gave him a look.

"You think its that easy? I dont have the money to live here, let alone afford something anywhere in the world." You admitted to which Luca reacted with a smile.

"Ask him to stay at his place until you can afford your own." Your classmate turned his head to face you and you looked back at him.

"You're not completely sane, I'm telling you." You mumbled while shaking your head, he laughed a little bit at your words.

You sighed deeply and then looked at Fermin across the classroom who was writing something on his paper. "I will talk to him."

"Hey Fer," Fermin turned around as soon as he heard you call his name. "can we talk?" You asked.

"Yeah, what's up" Fermin seemed closed off to you, he was even a bit awkward when talking to you.

"Can we go back to your place maybe? Just somewhere private." You suggested and he quickly nodded, then he turned around and you both got into his car. This is not the first time people from uni see you getting into Fermins car.

The drive to his place was quiet, awkward and uncomfortable. Not only for you but for him too. So when you arrived at his place, immediately you went inside and sat down on his couch. You weren't at his place that often because he preferred to stay at yours rather than at his.

So when he sat down next to you, you let out a heavy sight but he cut you off before you were able to even begin talking.

"I'm sorry, I know falling in love with you was a mistake when we agreed to only have sex, but you're so-" Fermin rushed his words until you said something.

"I love you too." Fermin however ignored you and kept talking.

" but you're so loveable and you always make me smile and- wait... what?" Fermin realized what you just told him, you wore a cheeky smile on your lips as his jaw dropped.

"You love me too?" He questioned to which you responded with a nod. "You love me too!" He jumped up in joy and opened up his arms. You smiled while standing up and hugging him back. He kept swinging with you in his arms from side to side and you couldn't help but smile.

"That means I can't let you go back to Poland." Fermin pulled back by an inch to look at you.

"If you'll ask me to, I'll never visit Poland again."

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // CH.3 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Medical Talk/Examination (Disclaimer: I am not an expert in medical things and how hospitals run or work, my knowledge is very limited but I did do a LOT of research for this and I did work for a surgeon for a year so if somethings aren't correct, please don't hold it against me.) Lawyer!Jungkook, Nurse!reader, swearing, mutual hating (I think that's it? Let me know if I missed something) ❥word-count: 6.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five Years Ago.

“Okay, everyone. I’ve posted your group assignments. Please check for your name and your partner, then move to sit together. You’ll be working with them for the rest of the semester, so get acquainted. We’ll start in 15 minutes.”

A wave of groans echoed through the classroom. The final project was looming, and nobody was thrilled about the mandatory paired assignment.

You opened your laptop, already dreading the thought of being stuck with someone you barely knew for the rest of the semester. You scrolled down the list, but when you saw your name next to Jeon Jungkook, your heart dropped.

Of all people... him?

Your fingers hovered over the trackpad as a handful of memories flooded to the front of your mind—You didn’t know him well but you knew Jungkook as your ex’s best friend, David. You felt your stomach churn with bitterness. The guy who probably laughed along when hearing David’s excuses he would use whenever he cheated on you. You had never actually had a chance to meet him since you and David were so on and off but now you couldn’t escape it.

You glanced up, scanning the room. Jungkook was sitting near the front, oblivious, casually scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t noticed you, but then again, why would he? You sank lower in your chair, hoping he wouldn’t find you. Maybe you could just avoid him until the semester ended. But no such luck.

Jungkook stood up, heading to the professor. After a brief conversation, the professor glanced toward the back of the room and pointed at you. Great. Jungkook thanked him and turned, his eyes locking on you.

You didn’t have the chance to escape before he reached you, a friendly smile plastered across his face as he approached. “Hi,” he greeted, extending a hand. “Y/N, right?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, your mind racing with old anger, but you forced yourself to give him a perfunctory shake. “Yeah,” you replied shortly, barely meeting his eyes.

If Jungkook noticed your cold response, he didn’t show it. He sat down next to you, still smiling, as if this was just a regular introduction between classmates. “I don’t know about you, but I have no idea where to start on this project,” he said with a light chuckle, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” you muttered, the tension thickening around you. Your voice was tight, your eyes fixed on your laptop screen. You could feel the weight of the past pressing on your chest, making it harder to breathe.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. “It’s nice to talk to someone, though. I don’t really know anyone in this class.”

“Well I know you.” You say it so quietly Jungkook almost doesn’t register that you said something. 

“What?” You glance at him and he has wide doe eyes full of confusion. 

“It’s nothing.” You clear your throat and brush him off. Jungkook was still left caught off guard but let it go for just a moment. Pulling his laptop back out of his bag and getting set up next to you. 

The silent anger was radiating off of you next to him and Jungkook felt suddenly anxious that he had said something wrong, “I’m sorry but did I offend you or something?”

“Nope.” You say , dry and short. 

“Seems like I did something.” 

“You didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.” You say in a more direct tone, looking him in the eyes this time. 

Jungkook just stared at you in silence for a moment, confused as to what was happening. Had he met you before? He couldn’t think of a time or place where he would have. He didn’t even recognize your name when he looked at the class list. Maybe you had met and so you were upset that he didn’t remember you. 

“I’m sorry for whatever it was I did. I really didn’t mean to offend you.” Jungkook keeps talking but you don’t respond to him. “Can we start over maybe?” 

You huffed, “I don’t think so.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling an unfamiliar knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. "Okay..." he muttered under his breath, unsure of what to do next. There was an awkward pause, the kind that stretched and lingered uncomfortably.

Jungkook cleared his throat, still trying to make sense of your reaction. "Look, I really don’t know what’s going on, but if I did something, I’d like to make it right."

You snapped your head toward him, finally unable to hold it in. “You want to make it right? Really?”

He nodded, his expression open, genuinely confused. “I mean, I don’t even know what I did, but yeah.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to hold back the wave of anger rising in your chest. He has no idea. Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you, doesn’t know the history. You wanted to scream, but instead, you spoke through gritted teeth. “Maybe you can ask David about it? I’m sure you two can have a great laugh about all of it.”

Jungkook blinked, the mention of David clearly throwing him off balance. “How did you know David?”

“Let’s just do this project and never speak again.” You dodge around his question, facing to the front of the room again. Jungkook was going to say something but was abruptly stopped. 

“Okay now that it seems everyone has gotten acquainted, let’s get started.” The voice of your professor is echoing around the room.

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Present Day

It’s been a week since the wedding. 

Melanie and Namjoon were well into their honeymoon and you had been getting pictures the last couple of days. You had been exhausted all week following the wedding. Today was your first day back to work at the hospital though, another twelve hour shift. You were in oncology today and it wasn’t much different than another other hospital floor. It was always a different change of pace, much more difficult emotionally rather than physically.

“Dr. Kim will give you more details about what kind of specifics he likes, you’ve been down here before so I’m sure you will pick it up easily.” Vic, a long time friend and coworker. She was giving some details about Dr. Kim Seokjin and the oncology department. You’d met him before, very funny guy, very goofy which I guess is needed for this specialty. 

“Oh for sure. I just haven’t been stuck to a specialty in some time now.” You followed her around into the nurses station and you both take some chairs. 

You were a float nurse which means you were placed in different specialties where you were needed. The oncology staff lost some of it’s nurses recently so you were going to be here for a few weeks. Especially because you would also have Vic here with you. 

Her full name is Victoria but she has insisted that she never wants to be called that, never stopped you from throwing it out once in a while for funnies. Vic and you were hired at the same time, she used to be a float nurse just like you but eventually took a permanent position up here. She was basically your work wife and you two would always get drinks and hang out outside of work when time allowed, so you were very excited to be with her on shift for the next few weeks. 

Vic led you to the nurses’ station, where you both grabbed seats. "Yeah, but at least Seokjin’s goofy enough to keep the mood light when he can. He’s a walking dad joke at this point."

You laughed. "I’m surprised he hasn’t been banned for his humor."

"Honestly, it's only a matter of time," Vic replied, rolling her eyes playfully. "But, seriously, he’s a great doc, and Yoongi—well, you’ll see. They’re a good team." Just as she said that, a surgical resident walked by, nose buried in a chart. Vic immediately perked up, waving dramatically. "Speaking of which, here's my favorite little duckling—Yoongi!"

“What?” Yoongi’s head snapped up, his eyes darting between the two of you as if he was constantly prepared to flee.

“This is Yoongi. Seokjin’s prodigy.” She swiveled from side to side in her seat. 

Yoongi shot her a side glance before flicking her shoulder. "Dr. Min,” he corrected, though there was no real heat behind it. He then extended a hand to you, his grip firm but brief. "Nice to meet you."

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

He shook your hand but as soon as he was here he was scurrying away again. Clearly trying to escape Vic’s antics, she probably antagonized him for a long time now.

"Aw, look at him go," Vic cooed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He pretends to be all tough, but Seokjin has him wrapped around his finger. Cute, right?”

You snorted. “Does he ever stick around long enough for a conversation, or is that a special kind of greeting?”

"He's shy. It's endearing, in a ‘I have to pull teeth to get a full sentence’ kind of way," she quipped. “Anyway, look at us—back together again.” Vic leaned back in her chair, grinning widely. “Now you can finally help me get Seokjin in line. Between the two of us, we might have a chance.”

You laughed, shaking your head. "You think I can do what an entire medical team can’t? I am excited to be working with you again. Same routine, just like the old days.”

“Until I get sick of you, of course,” Vic teased, giving you a wink.

You shot back with a smirk. “You sure you won’t want to murder me by the end of these few weeks?”

“Oh, probably,” Vic said with an exaggerated sigh. “But you’re my favorite pain in the ass, so I guess it’ll be worth it. Besides, we both know we’d end up getting drinks and complaining about everyone else anyway.”

“Touché.”

Vic showed you around the floor and gave you a better sense of how everyone works day to day and what you would be doing. You weren’t unfamiliar with everything here but being here the next couple of weeks would definitely be different than you were used to. You hadn’t gotten to see Dr. Kim anytime today, only seen him in passing and running from one room to another with Yoongi and another intern in toe. Once you had gotten everything Vic had let you lose to do what you could to help. 

“Actually, how about you take this new one first.” Vic opened up a tablet for you which had a chart ready for you, “She’s going to be here for a while.” 

You head up the wing as you look over her treatment plan. Stage three liver cancer which has metastasized to her bones and lungs. She will be undergoing chemotherapy and radiation and some surgeries to help remove the Mets. She also is in need of around the clock pain management with the spread to her bones. You felt bad reading it, the hardest part about being in this wing is seeing how hard some people have to fight. 

You make it to the room and give a light knock before entering. “Good morning.” 

“Oh hello!” A woman sitting on the bed awake and engrossed in some crochet project looked at you. 

“I’m Y/N, and I’ll be doing your workup today,” you said, entering the room and heading over to her monitor to start updating her chart.

“Oh, by all means. I’m ready!” She set aside her yarn and needles, sitting up straighter with an almost infectious energy that threw you off for a moment. Considering her condition, she seemed remarkably vibrant.

“So Mrs—.” You begin but she cuts you off, with her hand held up to you.

“Ji-eun is fine dear. No need for formality since you’ll see me out of my gown today.” She laughed to herself and you smiled. 

“Ji-eun it is.” You give her a soft smile and start getting her vitals and update her chart. “I know you are new with us here but I wanted to start by saying you are in really good hands with Dr. Kim.”

Ji-eun grinned wide, her eyes twinkling. “Can I just say he could totally be a movie star! I couldn’t stop blushing when he walked in this morning. You should’ve seen my poor husband’s face!”

You laughed along, shaking your head. “You’re not the first patient to say that, trust me. Everyone here seems to have a soft spot for Dr. Kim.”

“That younger doctor too. Quiet but so kind.” 

“Dr. Min, I just met him today, but I’ve heard good things.” You continued to type some notes into her chart.

"First day, huh?" Ji-eun asked, her eyes curious but warm.

“Not at all! Just new to the floor. I typically jump from specialty to specialty.” You start to do your physical exam of her as you continue to chat. 

“Well, I guess we’ll figure all of this out together then,” she said kindly, patting your arm as you continued your physical exam. “The doctors remind me of my boys a little.” 

“You have sons?” You ask and continue to examine her. 

“Yes, two. Grown men now, but they come to visit me often, whenever I’m in the hospital. You’ll probably meet them soon enough.” She sighs, adjusting her gown as you need to make sure you weren’t seeing any weird discoloration. The most important thing with her condition is the presentation of new spots or jaundice present in her skin. 

“I look forward to that,” you smiled. “So I am familiar with your status, Is this your first long stay in the hospital?”

Ji-eun’s face grew thoughtful as she tapped her lips. “Oh, no, no. I’ve had more surgeries than I can count, but this is the first time I’ve stayed this long. The pain’s gotten a bit too much lately—especially with this new tumor in my leg. I just needed more help. My poor husband can only do so much at home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sincerely. “But it sounds like you’ve got a lot of support.”

“Oh, I do,” Ji-eun nodded. “My husband’s been by my side for 33 years now, bless his heart. He and the boys will probably pop in this evening.”

“33 years? That’s incredible. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It’s quite an adventure, let me tell you.” She sighed, you could see her eyeing your hand, looking for a ring. Probably making a mental note about one not being present. “Like I said, they come by in the evenings so you’ll probably meet the whole pack.”

“Shoot I usually work days not evenings.” 

“I’ll just have to force them to come at lunch time. My boys work so much but sometimes I can convince them to show up during lunch.” 

Ji-eun chatters on for a while while you continue administering her medicine and finish making notes for Dr. Kim. Talking about her husband mostly and some patients she knew at other hospitals. It still surprised you how much energy and how alive she felt compared to others you’ve seen in her condition. You would be surprised if she didn’t beat her cancer in no time with a spirit like that. 

“I think I’m all done here,” you said, tucking your tablet under your arm after you take one last glance over your checklist to make sure you got everything.

“Already?” Ji-eun blinked, chewing on her lip. “Gosh, I must’ve chatted your ear off. I think I’m more nervous than I thought.”

“That’s perfectly normal.” You give her a reassuring smile, “I don’t mind the chatter, I’m usually more chatty but it’s my first day full time up here. We can be nervous together.” 

Her eyes softened at that. “You know what? I’ll crochet something for you as a ‘welcome to the floor’ gift. It’ll keep me busy.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“I insist! It’s my new hobby. Keeps my hands moving while I’m sitting here.”

You smiled, touched by the offer. “Well, in that case, I love stars if you know how to make those.”

“Stars it is,” she said with a wink, already picking out a new yarn color.

You left the room feeling lighter, buoyed by Ji-eun’s positivity. She was the kind of patient that reminded you why you loved this job, the strength and spirit some people carried, even in the toughest of circumstances. You made a mental note to start your day with her room as much as possible. It was the perfect way to lift your own spirits too.

“How’d the first one go champ?” Vic caught you walking up the hall and she saddled right up next to you. 

“Easy. She is so wonderful, like a breath of fresh air.” You sigh, “Can I have her as one of mine from now on?” 

“By all means.” Vic saw no reason why not. 

The day had been surprisingly smooth, and it felt good to finally have some time to catch your breath. You’d spent most of the day moving through rooms and getting a feel for the oncology floor. It was a slower pace compared to your usual shifts in the ER, but you welcomed it. With no major emergencies or immediate crises, you had more time to get to know the patients and the staff.

Dr. Kim had been a blur, practically a ghost for the day, absorbed in surgeries. You’d caught glimpses of him, but nothing more than that. You hoped you’d get a chance to speak with him soon, maybe figure out the best way to sync up with his preferences and routines. It was strange how he could command such attention without even being present. Everyone you spoke to—patients, nurses, and even Yoongi—seemed to speak of him with a kind of reverence.

You got to know Yoongi a little bit once he came by to work on some notes. You could tell that he was like any other surgical resident, eager to cut but he did not have the same energy as other residents you had met previously. Stark difference to the energy of Dr. Kim. 

You were sitting for a moment when Vic comes and joins you at the nurses station. It was getting close to the end of your day. 

“How was the wedding?” Vic asked as she settled into a chair next to you, she probably had been dying to ask. You had been talking non stop about this wedding for months now you were surprised she wasn't sick of hearing about it.

“It went great. Few hiccups but otherwise couldn’t have been more perfect. I’ll never be a maid of honor again though.” That was probably true, between this job and the months you spent working on everything with Melanie, you were glad it was over. 

“Did that guy bother you? What was his name?” 

The mention of Jungkook made you pause. Vic was not unfamiliar with the subject of Jungkook, in fact she probably was the next person outside of Melanie and Ash that had gotten an earful about your disdain for him. Except now, you hadn’t really unpacked what had happened between the two of you.

“Yes, Jungkook.” You clear your throat. Swiveling your chair to look at her. 

“Yeah, he’s the guy you’ve had issues with for years right?” 

“He’s the same old Jungkook.” You say but your tone wasn’t convincing enough for Vic. 

She asks. “What no exciting update? No he’s the devil and the next time I see him I’m going to actually rip his throat out? You usually have much more to say than that.” 

“Well, he wasn’t so bad this time. Annoying but we did our best. The weekend wasn’t about us.” 

You hadn’t really had a chance to unpack the events of the weekend. Mostly, just file it away and never speak about it again. Except your awkward demeanor had not been lost on Vic. You glance at her as she is giving you a confused expression. 

“What?” You ask her with an awkward laugh. 

“I’m confused. I’ve seen you draw devil horns on pictures of him and crop him out of group photos.” She scratched her head. 

You hesitated, keeping your focus on the paperwork in front of you. "He was… fine. I guess," you said, voice tight.

Vic stared at you for a long moment, her suspicion growing. “Fine? Since when is this guy ever just fine?” She let out a dry laugh. “You’ve spent years telling me every little thing he does drives you crazy—how is he suddenly fine?”

You shrugged, forcing a smile. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m over it. People grow up."

Vic’s brow shot up, unconvinced. “Over it? You? You once said you'd rather get a root canal with no anesthesia than spend five minutes with him.” 

“He once said I was so annoying that he’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard for an hour than have a conversation with me. So I think the comparison was justified.”

“Not the point. I mean what happened to make you two reconcile so easily?” 

“I don’t know. It’s a weekend full of love and people we care about?” 

Vic wasn’t letting this go. “Come on. I know you. If nothing happened, you’d be ranting by now, probably calling him a walking disaster or comparing him to a toe fungus again.”

“Well…” You start trying to think of something but coming up short. “We just figured it out.” 

“Okay…” Vic’s eyes were on you like a hawk now, watching every subtle reaction. “Let’s say you did get along. That still doesn’t explain why you’re acting so weird about it.” She raised an eyebrow, her voice dipping lower. “Did you guys talk or something? He confess his undying love for you?”

You snort at the absurdity, Jungkook nor you would never have feelings for the other in a million years. “We had a fight. We almost got kicked out so we had to come to an agreement.”

“You know you aren’t as good of a liar as you think you are.” She pokes you in your side and swat her hand away. She leans back in her chair, arms above her head, thinking. You could feel her eyes on you still as you filled out some information on your tablet. “What did you sleep with the guy?”

You paused. You tried not to show any expression but how did she get that so fast? Your silence did not go unnoticed. 

Vic’s gaze sharpened as she caught your hesitation. “Oh no... Wait. I was just kidding but… No way.” She stared at you, her voice suddenly full of realization. “You didn’t…”

You get up from your seat taking your tablet with you, getting away from her even though you had no set place you were going. Vic followed very close behind you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Vic let out a disbelieving laugh, her jaw dropping. “This is... I don’t even know what this is. I mean, I knew something was up, but I didn’t expect this.” She paused, leaning in closer, her voice suddenly curious. “So... what happens now? Are you guys, like, cool now?”

You shook your head, pulling her off to the side so you can have this conversation quietly. “No, Vic. It’s not like that. We still—” You stopped, fumbling for the right words. “It didn’t fix anything. We still hate each other.”

Vic blinked, clearly confused. “Then... why did it happen?”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced I hadn’t had a stroke or something. I still don’t really believe it happened.” Which was true, thinking about it felt like it was some insane dream rather than reality.

Vic sat back, still processing what you had just admitted, her expression caught between disbelief and curiosity. “I mean, I knew there was a lot of tension between you two, but… I didn’t think that kind of tension.” She shook her head, still stunned. “So, what? Was it like, some heat-of-the-moment thing? Or was it the alcohol?”

You go ahead and walk her through the events of the night and how you two came to this conclusion. She was completely enraptured in the story. She was laughing at you through most of it. She would never believe something like this would happen to you. 

“I’ve met your friend Taehyung, you should never take his advice.” 

“Well… It was all heat of the moment I guess.” 

Vic shook her head, grinning ear to ear. "Oh, I’m sure! Just a casual weekend of wedding duties, speeches, and—oh, you know—sleeping with your mortal enemy to ‘relieve some tension.’ That’s totally normal."

“Well it’s never happening again.” 

“Oh sure that’s what they all say.” She laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder and the two of you walk up the hall. Both of you glancing into patient rooms to make sure no one is needing anything. “Until the next time you two are in the same room, glaring daggers at each other, and—boom!”

You gave her a look and then burry your head in your hands. "Stop.”

Vic squinted at you, her grin growing wider. "Come on, YN. It sounds like you two finally found a way to stop biting each other’s heads off. Maybe instead of hating each other, you guys just needed a new... hobby?"

“Vic.” You shove her shoulder.

“I mean, what’s next?” she continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You two going to start a book club together? Go bowling on the weekends?"

“Can we let it go?” You sigh frustrated, dying to move on to something else. “I’ve never given you this hard of a time about your choice of partners.” 

“Mine are not half as interesting as this.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. 

“I’m getting back to work. It’s still my first day up here after all.” You pretend to be doing something on your tablet. Vic and you both know you were caught up on work but you start walking as quickly as you can ahead of her. 

“I’m just saying! This is like a plot straight out of a steamy rom-com.” She calls after you, you spinning on your heels to look at her.

Lifting your head slightly, you shot her a look. “If this was a rom-com, it’d be the worst one ever made. Trust me, there’s no happy ending here.”

With that she leaves you alone, for now. You know this would not be the last time you would be hearing about it. There will be nothing to tell her though, there is no continuation of any of this in the future for you and Jungkook. You never saw the guy hardly ever so it didn’t matter. 

You weren’t the only one who had pushed it down to a far place of your mind. Jungkook had found himself back at work this week. Jungkook’s week had been relentless. Since coming back to work after the wedding, it felt like he was buried under a mountain of tasks. As an associate at the law firm, he was used to the pressure, but the past few days had been especially grueling. He was juggling meetings with clients, writing complaints, filing motions, and researching for a high-stakes case. It was enough to make his head spin.

Today was no different. He had barely sat down for lunch, only quick bites between phone calls and endless stacks of documents. His current focus was on one of the senior partners, Mr. Kang, who was preparing for a major trial next week. Being chosen to help him was a big deal, considering Kang was known to be a tough and exacting lawyer. Jungkook had been working late nights, hoping his effort would earn him the partner’s respect and maybe a spot on more of these high-profile cases in the future.

Jungkook had just finished organizing the evidence and compiling a detailed witness list. He had also prepped several key points for Kang’s opening and closing statements, which, to his disappointment, the partner had dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Here is some of the prep I did for your trial, Mr. Kang,” Jungkook said, placing a thick folder of notes on his boss’s desk.

Kang, a no-nonsense kind of guy with sharp, calculating eyes, barely looked up from the file in front of him. “Good work, Jungkook. I’ll handle the opening and closing. But you’ve done well with the prep. You’re dismissed.”

Jungkook blinked in surprise. Usually, when you did a good job in Kang’s eyes, he’d keep you around for more work, even if it meant staying well into the night. But today, he was letting him go. Jungkook felt a mix of relief and pride as he grabbed his bag from his desk, quietly wondering if the partner had finally acknowledged his hard work.

Just as Jungkook was about to leave the office, Jimin, caught sight of Jungkook's rush. 

“You leaving?” Jimin asked, leaning against the doorframe with an eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, I’ve got plans tonight, and I’m already late,” Jungkook replied, shoving his laptop into his bag with a little more force than necessary. The tension of the day was finally lifting, and the thought of being out of the office and away from the piles of paperwork felt like freedom.

“Mr. Kang actually let you go early?” Jimin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Man, he must really like you. That guy doesn’t let anyone out this early, especially not if they’ve got a big case coming up.”

“I’m just as surprised as anyone,” Jungkook said with a half-smile, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll take it, though. It’s late enough as is.”

Jimin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a rarity around here. Have a good night, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook gave a quick nod and started walking down the hall, eager to leave the stuffy atmosphere of the office behind. But Jimin called out after him, making Jungkook pause for a moment, glancing back.

“Hey, you still coming out next week, right?” Jimin asked. “I already got you a ticket.”

Jungkook hesitated for a split second, then smirked. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he called back, waving as he walked toward the elevator. “See you.”

As the doors closed behind him and the elevator descended, Jungkook took a deep breath. The tension of the office was still heavy on his shoulders, but the thought of a night out with Jimin and some friends gave him a bit of lightness. He was long overdue for a chance to unwind. After the wedding and the work this last week, he was burnt out.

Stepping outside, the crisp evening air hit his face. It wasn’t too cold, but the cool breeze was a welcome contrast to the stale office air he’d been trapped in all day. The city felt alive around him, the hum of cars and distant chatter of pedestrians making him feel momentarily free from the piles of work waiting for him the next day. Jungkook checked the time, 8:06.

Jungkook took the opportunity to just listen to some music and walk to a convenience store he knew was nearby. His brother was texting about something and he hadn’t had a chance to answer all day. He needed a moment of peace for himself before he needed to get going. He knew exactly what snacks he wanted to get, and maybe a ramen bowl for when he gets home later. Jungkook grabbed some water bottles from the fridge and turned to go to the snacks. Almost slamming into someone else coming around the aisle corner. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you stammered, stepping back to avoid the near collision. Your eyes darted up, and surprise flooded your face when you saw who it was.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asked, surprised to see you. Especially not in a convenience store he frequented so often. 

“Oh.” You were feeling a similar feeling, this was the convenience store closest to your place. “What are you doing here?” 

He pulled one earbud out, his mind still processing the unexpected run-in. “I, uh, my firm’s just across the street.” He gestured vaguely behind him with the water bottle, realizing how lame that sounded. “I come here sometimes after work.”

You shifted the snacks in your arms, and Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how you seemed just as off-balance as he was. “I live right around the corner.” You said, filling the silence, your voice calm but your eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh.” Jungkook mouth hung in an ‘o’ shape. Jungkook had no idea you lived over here, maybe could have found a different place to go if he had known you come here. “What are the snacks for?”

“Uhh, Ash is coming over.” 

“Cool.” Jungkook paused, he really had no idea what to say. “Tell her I said hi I guess.”

“Yeah.”

You let the awkward silence hang between the both of you for a moment before you decided to brush past him. You had nothing to say to him really so you should just go about your business. It felt strange, you just talked about him today and now here he was. This last week has been the most you had seen him in years. You get a drink from the fridges, you eyes a little too focused on if you spot Jungkook in your peripherals. 

Jungkook just continued on his way and got a few snacks and the ramen bowl he wanted. Making his way to the counter where he lined up behind you. You knew he was behind you but said nothing as you paid for your items. Jungkook felt like maybe he should say something but what was lost of on. He hadn’t really thought about the wedding and what transpired at all but now it was at the front of his mind. Should he bring it up? Leave it alone? Would probably just cause a fight. 

You got the bags with your stuff step outside. A little shaken by the encounter, you fumble with your stuff making sure you get your keys out when Jungkook follows too soon out of the convenience store. You both look at each other simultaneously, both silent.  

You shuffled your stuff in your hands, unsure if you should say anything, but Jungkook beat you to it. “Do you need walked home? It's pretty dark.” His offer caught you off guard.

“Uh, I’m okay,” you said after a pause, glancing down the street. “It’s really close by.” You pointed behind you, in the general direction of your apartment, hoping that would end the conversation.

“I uhh…” He cleared his throat. “I also need to head that way to my car.” 

Of course he does, you thought. 

So you nod and just start walking. Jungkook comes up close to the next of you. He felt weird trailing behind but this also feels just as weird and uncomfortable. He was standing as close as he could to the edge of the sidewalk without stepping into the street. You almost instinctively kept your arms closely tucked to your sides. The walk to your place really wasn’t that far but it felt like an eternity now. 

What were you supposed to say in a situation like this?

“You work at a law firm?” The question erupted out of you.

“Yeah?”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I just… I don’t know. I never pegged you as a lawyer.” Which was true, you never knew he went to law school. To be fair you didn’t care what Jungkook did at all most of the time.

“I changed my mind I guess.” Jungkook shrugged. He didn’t know what to say to that. The last time you really knew each other, back in college, he hadn’t planned on law school yet.

That was a decision that came later.

Silence fell between the two of you again. It got Jungkook thinking, thinking about what happened between the two of you. He didn’t feel guilty but he felt like maybe it needed to be brought up.

Jungkook sighed, “So, about last week…” 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” You cut him off with a bitter tone, harsher than you had intended. 

“And what if I wanted too?” Jungkook bit back, all too harsh. 

“You do?” You glance at him, and he seems to be genuine. “Oh you do.” You retreat back into yourself and feel somewhat bad now, not realizing that maybe he would like to talk about it.

Something in him did want to talk about it, it wasn’t how he normally acted and he’s been under so much stress lately. Maybe it would feel good to talk it out?

“I was just going to ask if you were okay,” he continued, keeping his tone softer. His thoughts churned, wondering if you’d even believe him, if you’d think this was just some routine apology or him trying to cover his tracks. “And to say, I don’t usually do stuff like that. You might think otherwise, but that’s not who I am.” The words felt heavier than he’d intended, but they were true.

He glanced at you, searching for something in your expression, anything to tell him how you were really feeling. All he found was that guarded look he’d seen so many times before—the one that kept him at a distance. 

“I’m honestly too busy for hookups,” he added, a bitter chuckle escaping him, “so it surprised me more than anyone. So I just wanted to ask if you were okay and get that off my chest I guess.”

You were silent, you actually look at his face now, he seemed to be serious? Sincere? You felt like crawling out of your skin because he was being so real. It was weird, and clearly your face was telling Jungkook the same thing. Your expression looked uncomfortable and confused.

“What?” he asked and raised an eyebrow to you. 

“You’re just being so… considerate,” you said, shivering in your spot. “I’m so uncomfortable right now.” 

Jungkook almost laughed, but it came out as more of a sigh. He wasn’t used to this either, wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, and certainly not with you. But for some reason, it mattered more to him than it should. “Well, you can think whatever you like, I guess. I just wanted to get that out.” He tried to shrug it off, but the weight of the moment hung between you, making it impossible to dismiss. 

“Well…” You start, “I’m not thinking anything. If I’m being honest it’s not really me either and it felt really weird for me. I’m okay though but I would like to pretend it never happened. Umm… are you okay?”

Jungkook paused, “Yeah this is really weird.” He let out a small laugh, “I am okay and I also want to pretend it never happened.” Jungkook felt like he lifted a small weight he didn’t even know was on his shoulders. 

“Great. Now stop being so nice asshole, it’s freaking me out.” You glance and you had arrived to your building so quickly and you couldn’t be more thankful you couldn't take this awkwardness any longer. “This is me.” You point to the building next to you. 

“Nice.” Jungkook said it but it was more like he had no idea how to respond. Your building was right next to the parking garage he used for his car. “Goodnight.” 

“Yeah, goodnight.” You basically scurried up the steps and let yourself into the front door as fast as you could. You felt like you needed a shower to get Jungkook words out of your head. It felt so wrong, he was so nice and considerate about it. 

It would have been easier if Jungkook was a dick about the whole thing. 

Jungkook made sure you got in okay and then started his way to the parking garage to his car. He felt better but also so strange. Maybe he would have felt better if you two had made a whole scene. It was so weird being so... mature. Before Jungkook could think too much on it, his phone was buzzing in his pocket. 

The words ‘Mom’ were written across the screen, and he answered. 

“Hi Mom.” Jungkook barely got any words out before the other line erupted with sound. 

“Jeon Jungkook I cannot believe you are late! We have been waiting for you to arrive all evening and you are nowhere to be found!”

“I’m coming mom, just barely got off of work. I am on my way now.” he started to scurry because even though she was yelling at him now, he won’t hear the end of it in person. 

Maybe he should have been paying closer attention to his texts. 

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop @rinkud @deepikhaprakash @chuuritoz @jkslvsnella @eisthv @bangatanily @smwhrinthehaze @jjkologys @nono13bnd @smoljjks 。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

a/n: Honestly a touch worried about this chapter (not that it’s bad but just because like it the first step into the main story so the vibe is slightly different?? I hope everyone enjoys it 🩵😭

[merakisphere]

Five years ago I thought it would be a neat idea to try and make my favourite trinket of all time (3D wire mandala). So I found myself some copper wire, beads, a set of pliers and began tinkering. 5 years later, I make these wonderful multi-purpose pieces for lovely people all over the world full-time, and I couldn't be happier.

The ingredients for making a 3D wire mandala:

122.5 inches of electroplated copper wire (gold, silver, black)

14 funky beads (8mm size)

7 pieces of banding wire (22 gauge)

A one step looper and bent-nose pliers

and a lot of patience.. XD The next step in my small shop journey is to transition from selling on Etsy to my own website. Don't get me wrong, Etsy has been amazing for me as someone who wanted to open their own handmade shop but didn't know where to start, however, it is now time for me to spread my wings and (hopefully) fly. fingers crossed

Use code TUMBLR at checkout for a special discount just for discovering my work on here! PLUS checkout using PayPal and receive a FREE Spring Bloom Orbi-Loop with your purchase. (yes, I ship worldwide too!) Finally, don't forget to follow me as I am preparing a full-fledge tutorial (for free) to teach others how to make this on their own! It'lI be such a fun at-home craft project that I hope others will enjoy as much as I do!

PS: Sorry if this isn't blaze worthy. Just had a few extra credits available from Tumblr.

PPS: Style in video is Purple Nova (silver wire/standard size)

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)

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

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

☾ Word Count: 21,606

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

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

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

☾ Published: July 9, 2023

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

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

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

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Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve

Change like a season

-

It begins with rain.

White sheets of it beating against the window in a gentle murmur, a soft leak in the corner of the kitchen dripping into the metal bucket your mother has set out. The storm brings a cool wind with it, blowing in on the back porch where your father rocks back and forth in his chair, watching the deluge. 

Shivering, you throw another log into the fireplace, pulling your shawl closer as orange embers spark and crackle, drifting up the shute. The smell of burning cedar grows and you smile, sitting down in front of the licking flames and holding out your hands to warm your palms. 

Behind you at the kitchen table, your mother pulls a thread and needle through a dress she’s been working on, stitching purple flowers into the sleeves. You wonder if she’s making it for the neighbor's daughter, a girl a few years younger than you to be wed soon. 

Mother makes some of the best stitching in the village, her practiced hands etching artful flowers and vines and designs on the sleeves and skirts of most of the village women. She’s tried for years to pass the craft on to you, but your fingers aren’t nearly as nimble and your eye for art is sorely lacking. 

What you lack in art you make up for in stories, though. Head in the clouds, swimming in worlds, places and things you’ve never seen. Lives and people who only exist in your mind, entire fantasies with more colors and sights and smells than your tiny little world contains. 

You’d write them down if you could. Writing and reading is not a woman’s craft, though, and you know better than to press your father on the subject any further than you have in the past. A terse word from him and your raw knuckles after being forced to do the wash alone for weeks kept you from bringing up the topic of learning to read and write ever again, especially when you remember the sting of his slap when you pushed too far.

Still, you have your mind. You have the ability to dream up worlds and twist fantasies together, to daze off and pretend that you’re somewhere else. That you’re living another life.

You have the days where you finish working at the inn early, sitting in the corner of the room with hard bread and cheese, listening to the town’s storyteller whisper tales and myths to the children of the village.

For now, it will suffice. 

When the rain finally slows in the late afternoon, it’s cloudy and cool outside, the perfect temperature for a walk. Pulling on a pair of linen pants and a tunic, you creep toward the door, hoping to avoid the attention of your parents as they begin to prepare dinner in the kitchen, their movements methodical and silent. 

Carefully, you slide boots on your feet. As you reach for the front door, hidden from the view of the kitchen, you hear your mother call your name. You pause, closing your eyes and grimacing as you call back, “Yes?”

“Where are you going? It’s wet and cold outside.”

“Just for a short walk.”

“You’re going to catch a cold,” she protests. Her steps move near you. You pull the door open and step into the wet air, eager to get away from her. “Come help us with dinner.”

“I’ll see you shortly, the weather is lovely!”

Before your mother can come around the corner and pin you with her disappointed stare, you’re down the slippery steps and sloshing into the yard, mud and grass sucking at your steps as you hurry. You hear your father yell something like dammit, girl but you can’t be sure, the sounds of birds and the bugs swallowing his curses as you rush through the front yard.

The world is covered in a layer of fine mist, tree boughs heavy with rain as they drip drip drip onto the forest floor around you. Thick, gray clouds hide the sun still. Thunder rolls in the distance, promising more rain through the night. You don’t mind, diving into the darkness of the trees on a well-worn path through the woods.

Water floods the path up to the ankle, soaking your boots. You grin and kick your feet as you walk, watching the ripples flow outward. Water mosquitoes dance on top of the surface of the flood and you note little tadpoles swim by, confirming that the river by your house is flooding up over the bank and washing into the mainland. 

This is common most summers. Your house is out of the way from the town, almost a thirty minute walk. This far north, you’re only ten minutes from the edge of the slow-moving river that floods yearly turning the land around your property into a marsh. 

It’s your favorite time of year. A heron startles as you wander through the trees, shaking its white wings and shedding water as it hurries away on long, thin legs. You spot a snake swimming through the reeds, rushing away from you once it senses you sloshing through. 

Closer to the river, you pause. It’s hard to tell where the embankment dips down with it flooded. You can see where the flood moves faster, powered by the depth of the river and the overflow from the lake up north. Leaning against a tree, you look around this world of water. 

It seems alien. Trees block out the sky and are reflected in the surface of the flood, giving the illusion that you stand between two worlds, two dimensions. 

What would that be like, you wonder. 

According to the high priest in town, there are other dimensions. There are the heavens for the gods of light and love, who bless the world with fire and harvest and rain and oceans, who protect the people and who will absolve you of all sin and greed if you pray to them hard enough and accept them as your patrons. Who will love you only if you are devout.

You don’t believe in them for a second. If those gods of love and light do exist, they are not entirely good. They have never answered your prayers, have never saved you from pain or from sorrow. You have begged the gods to give you a new life, to let you leave. To let you go somewhere far away.

They have been silent. They were silent when your father beat you after the first time you rejected a marital match. They didn’t help you when he burned all your materials when you tried to teach yourself the shapes and sounds of letters.

So you stopped praying to them. 

There are other gods, of course. Other places for the wicked, dark gods full of trickery and greed, who seek only to fill the world with sin and deceit, who desire to make humans suffer and lose themselves in hedonism and debauchery. Those gods have a place too, the dark underworld for those who should be punished and reminded what it is to be full of sin. 

You’ve never prayed to them either, too afraid of what it would cost you. But you wonder if they answer or if they too watch the world from a mountain so high that they cannot bother to help those who need it. 

Still, you wonder what it would be like to walk between two worlds. To see one reflected in the other, to fall face first into the cool water only to surface in another place, almost an exact replica of where you’re from. 

It would be nice. Perhaps there you wouldn’t be a disappointing daughter who has turned away every suitor in the village, much to your father’s rage. There, you would be allowed to pursue reading and writing. You’d have the agency to sail the world and see the ocean for the first time, to feel the freezing spray of the seas on your face while you hunt the coast for something lost. 

Always something lost. 

In all of your fantasies, you’re looking for something. Sometimes, you’re not sure what it is you’re looking for, you just know that something needs to be found. Other times, it’s a specific object or a person, something that, deep down, you know represents the thing you desire to find most: freedom. 

A small school of fish swim by your feet. They can’t be any larger than your pinky finger, scurrying along before they’re swept up in the suction of the flowing river. Sighing, you push off the tree and begin to head back home, swatting at your bare arms where gnats bite at your sweaty skin. 

Dark presses in as you walk back. You had stayed in the woods later than you intended, mind drifting far off among the sounds of the world around you. A cool tingle slides down your neck as you walk, water breaking around you. 

You pause. It’s the same feeling that you get whenever you spend far too long in the woods and the sun goes down. It feels like there’s someone there with you, just at your back. Slowly, you turn to look over your shoulder but there’s no one there, just the warm press of something you can’t see. 

When it happened the first time, you’d been so afraid you ran home. Now, though, you smile and look down at the ground as you keep walking. The presence, whether it’s real or something you have made up in your head, is always comforting. Always there, a gentle press of feeling. 

There are candles burning in the windows and an owl hoots in greeting when your house appears. Inside, you kick off your shoes and rush to meet your parents at the silent dinner table. Both of them look up at you, your mother’s mouth pinched, eyes weary. Your father’s gaze is thunderous as he picks up cutlery and begins to cut into his potato in saw-like motions, his knuckles going white.

You sit down without a word, bow your head to pretend to pray. Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention. “It’s after dark. You missed your prayers.” 

It doesn’t matter. You weren’t going to pray anyway. But the way your parents look at you makes you drop your eyes down to the table, their expressions alarmed. Were you really about to pray after the sunset, when the benevolent gods were no longer listening? The only gods available to you now are dangerous. Violent. Tricky. 

Dinner is dry and too heavily salted. Still, you don’t complain. Somewhere in the world, you’re sure that there are wonderful feasts being held. Plates and platters of honey-glazed meats, roasted pheasant and charred filets. Whipped sweets and colorful confectionaries, dripping fruits and sugary drinks. 

None of those places exist anywhere that you’ve ever seen, but you like to imagine them as you chew your way through an oppressively silent meal. He says nothing, but you can tell your father is angry once again. Just as well, he at least keeps it to himself through the meal and says nothing when you’re done. 

“I’ll do the dishes,” you offer quickly when your parents finish. It’s an olive branch and they know it. They accept anyway, letting you gather plates as the soft hush of rain begins again. 

Rain washes out the night. You can’t see anything beyond the water that runs off the roof over the back porch as you dip your rag into warm water, scrubbing at the plates before setting them to dry in the stack next to you. 

Frogs croak, their loud voices blending together into the roar of the rain. Every now and again, lightning flashes above and thunder shakes the sky. You feel it vibrate through your ribs and you smile, inhaling the charged air. 

“... doesn’t have a choice!” You turn toward the open doorway. You can’t see your parents but the window is open to their room, voices coming in and out of the rain. “... force her! I’ve had… and he’s already agreed.”

You frown, stopping your scrubbing to lean further, straining your ears. “This won’t go well,” your mother says. 

“I don’t give a damn! It’s already done, woman. Enough.”

The rest of the conversation is drowned out by thunder. You frown and turn back to your task, trying to piece together what they’re talking about. You think back to your mother stitching the dress before dinner and think perhaps they’re gossiping about the neighbor again. She wasn’t happy that she was being married off and everyone knew it.

Still, she’s doing it. She’s stronger than you. It’s hard to imagine going through with something you don’t want, to live a life shackled to another person who doesn’t love you. Whose only purpose is to coexist with you and reproduce. To run a household and get through each and every day, the same as last.

It’s hard to say if your parents are in love. They are tender, at times, but you can’t ever point out a moment that your mother or father seem truly happy. Content isn’t the same as happiness. Not really. While they work together well and seem to have struck up a balance after the years, there’s nothing in the way they move through life that seems joyful. 

You had asked your mom if she was happy once. She gave you a funny look and said, I have a roof above my head and food on the table. How could I not be? 

Her response puzzles you still. To live is not to be happy. Being alive is just that - being alive. A bare minimum. But truly being happy is something else. At least, that’s how you understand it. How the heroes and characters in stories and tales live their lives, fighting for happiness. 

Later that night, you forget all about their whispers behind the sheets of rain. You’re tired and the storm is soothing, making you dream of a far away land where there are two armies entrenched in war, battling for their kingdoms and lighting the sky with storm magic. 

Another dream. Another fantasy. 

-

In your dream, a soft mouth meets yours. The kiss is slow, tongue dragging against yours, tasting of something sweet, mouth warm. It smells like clove and cinnamon, and though you don’t open your eyes to see the mouth that slides against yours, you know you are safe. 

-

It ends in darkness.

Dusk has settled around your home like a funeral shroud. Your father has been gone all day, your mother flippant when you ask about his whereabouts. Your mother is a painted picture of anxiety: mouth pinched, darting eyes that fail to meet yours, and hunched shoulders. It makes your palms sweat, the way she avoids you in the house. 

Rain comes down in patterns again, bands of storms floating by and turning the world gray. You don’t have to go to the inn with the road flooded, so you spend the day at the window instead, watching each storm flash by, listening to the frogs and watching the birds pick through bug-filled waters between each deluge. 

When the sun begins to set, you find your mother standing near the window, looking through wet glass as she chews the corner of her lip. She wipes her hands on her dress, not picking up that you’re standing in the doorway watching her.

The gown she has been stitching for the past few days lays on the table. It’s a beautiful thing, bursting with intricate flowers on the sleeves and the skirts. You don’t enjoy dresses - much less the kind for marriage - but you admire the careful needlework. 

“It’s a good dress,” you tell her. She startles from where she stands at the window, whirling around to face you. “One of your best.”

“Yes. I-” something crosses her face that’s unreadable. “Would you try it on for me? I want to make sure I got the sizing right.”

You shrug and pick it up. It’s not the first time she’s used you for sizing and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You just hope that she doesn’t make you stand on a stool for hours to place pins in the skirt, mapping where she needs to take in the seams and make the fabric fold. 

The material is a little scratchy when you put it on. It’s snug across the chest and a little bit long at the wrist, but the material ripples over you like water. Outside of your room, the sound of your father’s voice echoes. He sounds more jovial than usual, laughing loudly - another voice is with him. 

Frowning, you work the buttons on the side of the dress to secure it shut, pulling the fabric into place. It isn’t often that your father has guests over, but you can assume it’s one of his friends he has over for dinner. You make a sour face at the thought that perhaps it’s Mr. Laudermill and his son Nathaniel again, a family your father has tried to pawn you off on before. 

The list of people your father has tried to get you to marry is astounding. It’s become a joke in the town, a game of who will he ask next? At first, there were plenty of families who offered their sons to make the union. Now, after how vehemently you have protested for your right to pick your husband yourself, it’s you who is rejected when your father makes dowry offers.

It seems - much to your advantage - that the men of the town and even the neighboring villages grew tired of the girl who liked to say no. It gives you small satisfaction to know that sheer inconvenience has earned you freedom alongside your mother’s unwillingness to force you. 

Still, the Laudermills are a little persistent. Not your father’s favorite option he has ever brought up, but it was one that didn’t say no. 

You enter the main house with minor trepidation, uneager to spend the evening sighing at Nathaniel’s terrible jokes and attempts to win you over. You wonder if it’s sheer pride that brings him back this time, upset that he cannot beat the town's little conundrum. The unconquerable conquest. You get the feeling that’s why he and his father visit for dinner sometimes, Nathaniel’s pride unwilling to back down from the challenge. 

You’d respect him more if he had more admiration for the word no. 

Nathaniel and his father are in the main room of your home, speaking in laughing tones to your father. Your mother stands near the open back door, hands wringing together. There is another person in your house that you don’t expect, though. The village’s high priest nods his head along with something that your father is saying, wrinkled hands clasped in front of his robes.

Time seems to slow down. You take in the tight expression on your mother’s face, her eyes drifting over to the priest who is dressed in ceremonial purple robes, an air of professional courtesy about him. He’s nodding to Nathaniel who is speaking now, and it’s when you really look at him, dressed in nice linen pants, a long sleeved shirt and an ornate vest, that you put the pieces together. 

Too slowly do you react as your father turns to you. His smile is forced and his gaze is burning with warning when he gestures. “There’s our bride!”

The word sinks in like a blade. Right between the ribs and up, its point poking dangerous at your heart as your blood begins to roar in your ears. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at them from the threshold of your room. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck, your hands shaking. 

“You look beautiful,” Nathaniel says, grinning. It’s a genuine smile, a proud one. Something that says finally. “I’m so glad you’re ready, after all this time.”

“I… what?”

In a moment of razor-sharp clarity, you remember the conversation your parents were having last night, soft words whispered under the cover of the storm. You remember something about forcing her and someone having already agreed. 

No. No. Nonononononono. 

You don’t realize you’re speaking out loud as you back up into your room, the horror settling in as the rain begins to tap on the roof. Your mother looks crestfallen but remains silent as your father’s smile tightens and his face reddens. 

When he says your name, it’s full of warning. The back of your legs hit your bed and your weak knees buckle. You sit down with a huff and shake your head. “You can’t do this,” you whisper. You can’t find your voice, can’t work your throat louder. “You cannot make me marry.”

“Of course I can,” your father hisses. His smile drops and in its place is something dangerous. Horrific. The villain of all your dreams and epic fantasies. “I have given you more than enough time to choose. You have not. As the man of this house-”

“No!” you bark back, cutting him off and shooting to your feet. “I am a person-”

“You are a woman!” he roars, making the high priest flinch. “Your purpose is to grow up, get married, mind the household and provide an heir! You are the only fiendish woman in this entire forsaken village who seems to misunderstand this!”

“It is not my purpose!”

“It is, and you will fulfill it!” he hisses. “You will marry this man before the gods, with my blessing and the witness of the priest.” 

Behind you, thunder rolls. The rain comes down harder. Frogs croak loudly, bracketed by the sound of the trees bending with the weight of the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the people before you. Your mother with tears in her eyes, your father with fury in his face, the priest with disappointment and Nathaniel. Nathaniel with glee. With a grin. With a smirk. 

“I won’t do it,” you whisper. 

Before they can argue, you turn on your heel and leap onto your bed. Your father and Nathaniel rush at the doorway, their steps pounding behind you as you crawl through the window, your ribs slamming on the sill as you lean face forward. Rain soaks you immediately, your hands gripping the sill as you haul your middle half over the edge, intending to just flip down into the mud. 

Hands yank at your legs and you scream, a feral sound ripping through your lungs as you kick backward violently. You’re yanked back toward your room viciously, rib cage aching where you slide on the concrete frame. With another savage kick, you make contact and hear a loud shout before the hands drop from your waist. 

Pushing harshly, you throw yourself the rest of the way through the window, falling the few feet down to land with a splash. Your father is screaming inside the house but you’re already slipping to your feet, whatever he says drowned out in the rain. 

You don’t even think. You run, hands picking up the wet-leaden skirts on your dress as you tear off toward the woods. Water rushes around your ankles as you go and you hear commotion at the window as someone clambers through. You don’t dare turn around as you rush to the line of trees, unafraid of the dark but terrified of the slamming footsteps behind you.

It’s impossible to be fast in the flooded woods. You wince as your feet get cut up on rocks and sharp sticks that you can’t see. You trip over roots and kick solid things as you slog forward, biting back a cry as you try to flee. 

“Get back here, you wretched bitch!” Nathaniel screams behind you. 

It never occurred to you that he could say something so violent. It spurs you forward, mud and water sucking your feet down and making your flight sticky and slow. Rain pelts down between the leaves, the storm lighting up the treetops with purple flashes every now and again. Thunder shakes their branches and rumbles through your feet, the water rushing higher and higher. 

Nathaniel slams into you at the waist. You scream as he takes you down, his weight on top of you. Your scream is cut off as your mouth fills with water. You swallow in a panic, body thrumming with alarm as you choke, nose full of water, eyes burning. You can hear the dull roar of water, the swish of your tangled limbs on the floor. 

Clawing at him, you feel your nails rip down soft flesh and hear a muted yell. He lifts his weight off of you and you sit forward, breaking the surface and gasping for air, retching. Your lungs and nose burn as you gasp for air, fighting to get a breath in. 

Nathaniel is on you again, his hand going for your hair as he digs his fingers in hard, yanking at your scalp. Your hands fly to his wrist and you scream again, pulling at him, trying to free yourself. Tears smart your eyes from the stinging pain as he yanks hard enough that you think he’ll tear you right apart. 

“Fucking ungrateful,” he barks.

Your feet slide in the mud as he uses your buoyancy in the knee deep water to haul you back toward the house. You twist in his grip, mewling in panic and pain as you work to get your feet under you and fight back. You let go of his arm and throw a weak punch at his ribs. He grunts but doesn’t let go, even as you twist, hands shooting to the ground, digging through soaked earth and weeds until you feel the hard, rough shape of a rock. 

Grabbing it, you lift your hand from the water and bring it down hard on Nathaniel’s wrist. He screams and lets go of your hair. Your fingers ache from the blow but you don’t waste precious minutes, scrambling to your feet and sloshing away from him again. He’s already gripping at your dress, fingers ripping at the fabric to get a hold of you. 

Desperation claws at you and you scream for help. You don’t know if anyone else is out here in the dark of the woods but you don’t care. Bleeding, in pain, and terrified, you tear through the water, the rock clutched in your fingers, rushing in the dark as Nathaniel gives chase.

“Please!” you scream at the dark. “Anyone, please!” 

A thread of thought slivers through you about the gods. Praying to the gods has never gotten you anywhere. It didn’t make your father let you read. It didn’t get you out of your town. It didn’t save you from this. The supposed gods who rule with light and love had never heard you and you had long stopped believing in them.

But you’d never prayed to the gods of the dark. The gods who only listen to words whispered after the setting sun. 

“Please,” you beg, turning your head to the dark sky. Lighting flashes and thunder rumbles. Cool wind brushes against your face, wind that feels like it whispers I’m listening. “Please,” you scream again. “Help me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Help me!”

Nathaniel takes you down by the waist again. You gasp for air this time as your face slaps the water with a sting. The current is rushing faster here, pulling at you. Deeper. Colder. You’re close to the river, and you feel the suction of the force of the flow tugging at your body as Nathaniel digs his fingers into the meat of your arms. 

This time, he doesn’t pull you with him. He holds you down, shoving you deeper and deeper until you realize that he’s no longer interested in bringing you back. You kick at him, you tear at him. You slam his wrist with the rock again but his other hand grabs yours, wrenching the weapon away from you. 

Your lungs are screaming and water is rushing into your nose as oxygen escapes you. His grip is firm and you begin to panic. All you can think is help help help help. Please help. 

Bubbles escape your mouth as you’re forced to breathe out again. You’re running out of time and pain starts to build in your chest. You feel the way your lungs squeeze, needing air. You let out more air and press your lips tight, desperately trying not to inhale. 

Breathe in, your instincts scream. Breathe breathe breathe breathe. 

Agony. You’re in agony as you open your mouth in a final cry, unable to form the words. Unable to scream and ask for a higher power that you only believe in at this moment to help you. 

Water fills your mouth. You swallow it whole, feel it go down as you begin to spasm. 

You’re going to die. 

And then Nathaniel’s hands are gone. It takes you a moment to realize that there’s no crushing grip on your arms and in the brief moment of realization, you barely manage to push up. To break the surface and vomit, water coming out of you in a stinging, horrid mess. Your stomach turns and you feel your chest squeeze as you choke.

The storm is still raging around you, water pulling at you and pressing you into the rough bark of a tree. Blinking tears from your eyes, you look around but it’s too dark to see. You can hear Nathaniel looking for you, screaming your name in the dark. 

The back of your neck tingles. There’s a feeling in the air behind you - that sliver of breath that you often sense when you’re out in the woods alone just after dark. Like something or someone is there with you, just behind you. 

“What is it you want?” a deep, dark voice whispers. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end and you feel chilled to the bone. The voice is like none you’ve ever heard, sensual and dizzying. 

“Want?”

“You asked for help.” The voice switches to your other ear and you don’t dare turn around to find the speaker. “What do you want?” 

“What can you give?”

The voice chuckles. The sound makes you shiver, your eyelids fluttering. The voice purrs, “I can give you anything you dream, little lamb. Tell me: what do you want?”

You think about it. Lightning lances through the sky and for a brief moment, the world is a flash of silver. You see Nathaniel in the light, a few feet away from you. He’s bloody and heaving, his eyes snapping to where you hide against the tree.

“Freedom,” you gasp as the world falls to darkness again. “I want freedom.”

“What will you give me?”

“What do you want?” you beg, hearing Nathaniel move toward you.

There’s a soft hum and you feel lightheaded at the sound. “Your time.”

“My time?”

“Your time in exchange for freedom, little lamb. Better hurry, this offer is about to expire.” 

Nathaniel screams in a rage. Sloshes closer to you. Your heartbeat quickens. You can feel it in your chest, hear it in your ears, your pulse throbbing as he nears. 

“Okay,” you whisper, voice coming out shaky. 

“Then tell me you accept.”

You take a deep breath. “I accept.” 

There’s a brush at the nape of your neck, warm and soft. Though you’ve never been kissed before, you think that it’s the press of lips, intimate and barely there. Something inside you flickers to life, like a new instinct that has opened its eyes for the first time. You’re aware of another presence, a soft buzz that presses down on you as it stands up next to you. 

Thunder rolls and you feel someone brush by you.  A hand touches your cheek almost fondly, fingers dragging along the curve of your jaw. Blinking slowly, you lean into the touch, seeking its comfort. You don’t know who it belongs to. All you know is that just the feel of fingers on your skin has your stomach flipping, your toes curling. 

The hand drops from your face and you immediately miss the contact. Opening your eyes, you see another flash of lightning. There’s someone standing in front of you dressed in black, slick with rain. You can’t make out anything much, just the shape of a man in a dark cloak. 

A god. You know he’s a god, whoever this savior is. You know that something has heard your screams in the dark and has come to give you what you wanted. What you begged for. 

“She is no longer available to you,” the god announces to Nathaniel. It’s not the same whisper as a moment ago, but a deep, raspy voice. Dark. Demanding. “She’s mine.” 

“That’s my betrothed,” Nathaniel answers, though it comes out like a question, his voice trembling. “I– she belongs to-”

“Me,” the dark god assures. A loud clap of thunder makes you flinch. “Goodbye, Nathaniel Laudermill.” 

Nathaniel screams. You don’t know what happens. There’s just his shout of terror in the dark and a roll of thunder that shakes the trees and rattles the earth. You feel the vibration in the water from the unearthly thunder before you realize that this sound, this trembling, is the wrath of a god. 

The sound fades and the shaking stops. You feel more than see the god in front of you turn to face you, a sweeping warmth as he bends down. You cannot make out any features, your vision swimming with bursts of color in the lack of light. 

“You’re with me now,” he assures you. “And you should not be afraid.” 

Gentle hands reach out and cradle your face. You’re suddenly tired, every pain in your body weighing you down like stones, pulling at you until you’re closing your eyes and succumbing to the heavy exhaustion.

The last thing you remember is your whispered name on reverent lips. 

-

You’re dreaming. Your eyes are closed in this dream but you feel light and warm. Fingers brush over your cheek, soft and reverent. You hear a gentle, deep humming, a pleasant melody. It smells like clove and cinnamon, making you drift further into the dream. You lean into the hand cupping your face and hear a deep chuckle before drifting off into nothingness. 

-

The first thing you notice is the smell of clove and cinnamon. It’s a soothing scent that sends your heart fluttering as you roll over. The blankets wrapped around you feel divine, soft with a high loft that feels like you’re wrapped in clouds. The mattress is decadent, sucking you in further as you settle in on your side, inhaling deeply.

Then you remember hands tearing at your legs. Ripping you by the hair. Water filling your lungs and throat. The flash of lightning and the cold rain as you were dragged under a flood again and again. 

With a gasp you sit up in bed, heart hammering. You still as you look around, mouth dropping open at the opulent room. The bed is the largest thing you’ve ever seen, on a low platform swimming with charcoal colored sheets and pillows. The headboard looks like polished obsidian, glinting in the low light provided by dozens of flickering candles.

Stone walls make up the room, rough rock with sconces of flickering flames. The room is sprawling with a sitting area a step down from the bed, decorated with chaise lounges, a coffee table and high-backed chairs situated in front of a fireplace. Flames crackle on a log, orange light dancing across the room. On either side of the fireplace are bookshelves that stretch up to the high ceiling.

Across from the bed are open double doors where you can see a magnificent bathroom. From your vantage point, you can just make out sinks carved from a hewn rock and what looks like a trickling waterfall sluicing down the wall. 

Turning to the left, there is a set of glass doors, a balcony just on the other side. It appears to be nighttime outside, thousands of stars glittering through the glass and the largest moon you’ve ever seen suspended in the sky like a lone coin.

Carefully, you peel back the covers. You’re still in the wedding dress your mother made you. It’s stained and tattered and bloodied, making your stomach flip uncomfortably as you look down on it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you place your feet on the stone flooring, expecting it to be cold to the touch. 

It isn’t. Warmth radiates from the floor through the soles of your feet, making you sigh, tension bleeding from your shoulders as you close your eyes for a moment. Though the aches and the pains from being scratched and hit and torn down are gone, you wince as you recall them. 

Your parents were going to force you to marry Nathaniel. You don’t know how you missed the signs before, how you thought that there was any other path. With your elbows pressed to your knees, you hang your head in your hands, pressing your eyes shut and taking another shuddering breath.

This time, a sob slips out. Somehow, you had tricked yourself into thinking that your parents would abide by your wishes to make your own choices. Foolish, you realize. Your father had not grown complacent. He had been biding his time, waiting to strike. 

The smallest viper has the greatest sting.

And your mother was going to let him do it. The woman who had brought you into the world screaming and bloody was going to pass you off to a man, even if it meant that man dragged you kicking and screaming to the altar. 

Disgust curls in your stomach and your hands turn into firsts, pressing against your closed lids and making bursts of colors flash in your eyes. Split down the middle, one part of you mourns the loss of the parents you thought that you had. The other is an open wound, festering with a hateful infection at the very thought of them. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. Your heart leaps as you sit up straight, dropping your hands into your lap as a man slips through the large double doors near the sitting area. Your breath catches in your chest as he sweeps into the room, looping his hands behind his back as he sets his dark eyes on you and approaches. 

He’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, you think. Inky hair falls into his enigmatic eyes. His skin is deep gold, a contrast to the all-black blouse that he wears tucked into black pants. You see the open collar of his shirt revealing a patch of tan skin and an elegant throat, but it’s his face that shatters your mind. 

The man - or god, you think - has a square, masculine jaw offset with a delicate mouth the color of rose petals. His nose is straight and wide and would look ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it’s the perfect balance, his cheekbones high and angular, cutting the roundness of his nose. 

“Good to see you’re awake,” he greets. The man stops at the edge of the step that leads to where the bed sits higher than the rest of the room. You stare and stare and stare at him, unable to process words as he grins at you. His voice is dulcet and warm, but not the voice that promised to save you. “How do you feel?”

“I…” you rasp out and you shake your head, unable to think of anything else.

His mouth quirks and he nods. “It sounds like you had a terrible time. How about you take a well-deserved bath and get out of that terrible dress? Sorry to have left you in it, I was under strict instructions not to invade your personal space.”

“Yes, please.” You hesitate. “Where am I? Whose instructions?”

“You’re somewhere safe with someone who wants you to remain safe.” 

“Where is safe?”

He gives you a secretive smile as he nods toward the bathroom before turning on his heel and striding away. On unsteady feet, you follow him. It helps that the floor is warm, giving you the strength you need to make it down the two steps and across the stone toward the bathroom. 

“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer your question,” he admits. “I’m just here to help you get settled. My name is Taehyung, by the way.”

“Taehyung.” You say the word, familiarizing yourself with the shape of it as you enter the room and stop. 

The bathroom is far more luxurious than you realized from afar. There is a waterfall running down the black rockface between two basins, trickling into a little fountain that drains on the floor. To the right side of the bathroom is a large body of steaming water. 

Herbal scents fill the room as you near the edge of the dark surface of the water. It reminds you of hot springs in a cave near the southern villages, a place you’d only heard of but never seen. It’s massive, surrounded by a smooth, stone edge. There is a corner full of what appears to be salts, soaps and herbs alongside flickering candles. 

Opposite the hot spring is a giant glass window that overlooks mountains and lush greenery. From the window, you can see the entire world of wherever you are stretched out in the most dazzling and wonderful display. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somewhere that belongs in the epitome of night.

“How deep is that?” you ask, turning to Taehyung with a wary expression as you gesture to the body of water. 

His expression softens. “Waist high when you stand in the middle. There is a ledge that you can sit on all the way around. It’s incredibly safe and very warm. I can stand just outside the door if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.” 

Taehyung points to a stack of clothes resting on a stool near a cabinet full of towels and jars of things. “Those are for you to change into. The towels are for you to dry off, of course. Anything in the bathroom is yours to use.” Taehyung must sense your hesitation, because he gives you a soft smile. “You’re safe here. I promise.” 

“I’d feel better if I knew where here was.”

“Bathe. Relax. Then I’ll take you to him.” 

Taehyung does not give you a chance to ask to whom he refers. He strides out of the room and the door swings shut seemingly on its own. You blink a few times at it, standing in the middle of the warm bathroom in a daze.

Spinning, you look around the room and find yourself drawn to the window. Up close, you realize how high up you are. It’s a bit dizzying, and you look  down at the ground only to see that there is a garden bursting with purple and blue, neat rows of flowers that stretch until they meet a line of trees. 

A world of mountains unfolds beyond the window. You’ve never seen mountains but they are larger than you could have ever imagined, snowcaps stark against the night sky. It’s mesmerizing and a little too big, so you turn away from the window and head for the steaming basin of water. 

Peaking over the edge, you can see the bottom. It doesn’t look that deep, but your stomach twists as you pop the buttons on your dress. Your fingers feel stiff and disjointed as you work to undress. You look down at the ripped threads and the dirty fabric and think about how much time your mother spent stitching it.

Suddenly the dress feels suffocating and you pull hard on the garment, popping buttons from the threads and sending them clattering on the floor. You shed the dress and kick it away from you, stripping off your undergarments and lowering yourself to the edge of the water. 

A sigh leaves your mouth as you slide your feet and legs in first. The water is hot, though not scalding like you expected. Closing your eyes, you remain sitting on the edge for a moment, letting your calves soak and muscles unwind, fingers gripping the edge tight. 

Taking a deep breath, you slide forward a little, firmly placing your feet on the ledge Taehyung spoke of. For a moment, your fear spikes. You feel it sharp in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the basin. With a few deep breaths, you carefully slide down to the ledge proper, sinking in the hot water to the chest. 

“I’m not going to drown,” you whisper to yourself. The words come out shaky and you’re not entirely sure that you believe them. “I’m not going to drown, I am not going to drown, I am not going to drown.”

You repeat the mantra until you believe it, your fingers grasping the edge of the stone seat as you try to relax and melt into the water. It takes a while, but you finally grow too tired of remaining tense, taking a deep breath and gaining the courage to relax. 

Gently, you rest your head against the edge of the basin. Heat seeps into your skin and you feel the anxiety bleed out of you, your tensed muscles unwinding. You hadn’t realized how clenched up you were until you let go, and your body sags a little bit in the water. 

Time slips away. Thankfully, your body doesn’t hurt the way you anticipated that it would. Frowning, you press your fingers into your skin where there should be bruises and pain. There is no evidence on your skin that Nathaniel laid his hands on you the night before - the day before? You’re unsure how much time has passed, only that there is an eerie absence of your wounds.

Turning your head, you look at your dress discarded on the floor. There’s certainly evidence of a struggle spattered all over the fabric, but it makes you wonder if the god who answered your prayers has healed you.

A god. 

The thought comes to you in a snap and you stare down at the water, eyes unfocusing as you try to recall the details of what happened. You remember screaming for help, the sound of your desperation ripping through your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever screamed like that, terrified and wild. You remember thinking about the gods, begging them to hear you, willing them to listen. 

Water had been filling your lungs. Crushing out air. You remember the rush of the stream around you as it pulled at your fighting body. Nathaniel’s hands gripping you and holding you under viciously, fingers like claws as he tried to drown you. 

Then you surfaced and choked, completely shrouded in darkness…. And you remember that quiet voice made of smoke and shadow. Thinking of it now makes you shiver, despite how hot the water is. The voice had promised you freedom in exchange for time and had taken you to wherever this place was. 

You open your eyes, unsure when you had even closed them. Glancing around the room once more, you decide there is no way that you’re anywhere close to home. You’ve never seen anything like this bathroom before, a feat of what appears to be architecture and maybe magic. 

Soaps and salts line the edges of the bathing pool. When you feel brave enough, you dart across the middle like a minnow, trying not to think about how you nearly crossed death’s bridge in a shallow body of water not long ago. 

Unscrewing lids, you smell each of the glass bottles of liquid, humming in delight. You settle on a hard bar of soap that smells like lavender and mint. It feels good to scrub your skin raw. You imagine that you’re washing away all of the memories of Nathaniel’s fingers on your skin and the scratchy dress your mother made for you.

Fingers and feet pruned and skin feeling stripped of a top layer, you reluctantly exit the bath. The towels are the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You run the fabric between your fingers, tilting your head up at the sky and sighing. Wherever this dark god has taken you doesn’t seem so terrifying, yet it puts you more on edge, these luxuries. 

The clothes Taehyung left out for you fit well enough, though it’s obvious they are not your exact measurements. He’s provided you with soft, black pants and a loose, black tunic with intricate designs that look like clouds on the sleeves and collar. 

You hesitate when you’re ready to leave the bathroom. So far, it seems that whatever bargain you’ve struck with this god has been in your favor. But you know you’ve made a deal in a moment of fear, and you’re not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to.

Time.

Though you’re nervous, you can’t stay hidden in the bathroom forever. Nudging the door open, you peek around the edge, gaze sweeping the room as you look for Taehyung. He’s standing in the sitting area, face toward the flickering fire. He looks both terrifying and beautiful, hands linked behind his back as he watches the flames. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Taehyung calls without turning around. “I mean it when I tell you that you’re safe.”

Slipping through the door, you walk toward him, regarding him warily. “Still,” you answer. “I don’t know where I am. Are you even human?”

He does look over his shoulder then, flashing you a wicked grin. “I’m not.” 

Taehyung’s answer doesn’t put you at ease, but you’re unsure what to do. Wordlessly, he gestures for you to follow him as he heads through the door and out of the room. For a moment, you hesitate. What would happen if you refused to leave the room? Is your deal with the god already in effect? What are its limitations? 

You can answer none of the questions you have, so you follow Taehyung, hoping to find answers soon. Except as soon as you step out of the room, you think you might have even more questions. 

The halls are dark and lit with flickering torches, casting an orange glow up to the cavernous ceilings. Though you’ve never been in a castle or seen one, you have an idea of how grand they are. There is no doubt in your mind that this is a castle, the halls resplendent and sweeping with artwork and fabric and statues. 

In front of you, Taehyung walks jovially with his hands linked behind his back. He hums a tune you don’t know, but it sounds smooth and warm. You follow behind him, casting your gaze around as you walk, trying to remember which turns you take and what paintings you pass. 

You reach a tall, closed set of wooden double doors. Taehyung raps his fingers against the door, looking over his shoulder at you with an excited grin. Your stomach flips and you wipe your palms against the bottom of your tunic. Your hands feel shaky and you twine them into the fabric, willing them to stop. 

Taehyung must hear someone on the other side of the door, because he opens it and steps in and to the side, gesturing for you to enter. You take a deep breath and walk by him into the room, stopping immediately as you look up, your mouth falling open. 

It’s a library grander than you could ever imagine. Your town had quite a small library at the church that belonged to the high priest, but this is something beyond your wildest dreams. The ceiling stretches higher than your imagination, filled with floating lights and stars - the entire night sky is stretched above you in swirling constellations of purple and blue. 

Three floors make up the library, each lined with books and windows that look out into the evening. You can see sprawling gardens beyond the tinted glass, but it’s the shelves of books that catch your attention. Stepping into the room further, you slowly spin, looking at the sheer amount of volumes that line the walls. There are multiple seating areas with rich, velvet blue armchairs and couches, tables full of books and papers and ink bottles and maps. 

Your throat tightens as you look at Taehyung, your mouth wobbling. The urge to burst into tears has never felt greater than this moment. You never imagined that you could stand in a room with so many books, and the desire to pull one off the shelf and delve in is cut short by the single, glaring fact that you don’t know how to read them. 

Distracted by the books upon entry, it takes you a moment to notice another presence in the room. You feel a tingle at the back of your neck, one that draws your eyes toward a long table near the fireplace. It’s the same feeling you had when you were saved from Nathaniel, an awareness that buzzes along your skin.

A man stands in front of the table, watching you with dark, feline eyes. He’s beautiful. Otherworldly, really. His round features remind you of the moon, but it’s the sharp eyes and the careful pout of his mouth that draws you in. He looks both delicate and dangerous, and you notice the quirk on his lips as he watches you watch him. 

He’s in all black. Black pants tucked into black, knee-high boots, and a black, long-sleeved shirt. There’s a layer of necklaces around his neck and you can see shapes and runes that are unfamiliar to you. The same runes and shapes are on the rings on his long, delicate fingers, folded in front of him. 

This is the face of a god. You know it in the way that there’s something ancient in his eyes and in the way he glows from within. His power is tangible, a crackling energy pressing up against every nerve in your body. 

“How are you feeling?” his voice vibrates right to your core. Soft and dark like you remember it, though a little rougher now. Gravelly. He studies you, unmoving. “Hopefully well-rested?”

“I feel…. Better.” Finding the words is hard in his presence, especially under the scrutiny of his gaze. You want to dart out of the room and hide, but you also don’t want to leave the library without exploring. “I think I should thank you?”

It comes out as a question and he smirks a little. Your stomach flutters at the sight; he raises a brow. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”

The door shuts behind you and you startle, whirling around to see that Taehyung has left you. Your nerves fray further and you turn back to look at the god watching you. Behind him on the table, you realize it is a feast of sorts. Roasted meats and poultry, platters of fruit, plates of cheese and neatly arranged crackers, steaming pans of vegetables and things you cannot identify. 

He notices. “You must be starving. Come. Eat.” When you don’t move, he sighs. “I didn’t save you just to harm you.” 

It’s true enough. You carefully approach the table, eyeing him as he unclasps his hands and pulls out a chair for you. When you hesitate, he arches a dark brow again and you feel yourself grow warm in the face, muttering your thanks as you hurry over to the chair and sit down. 

The god’s presence is buzzing. He doesn’t touch you, but it’s like you feel him anyway, just an inch away from you. He helps you slide your chair in and gives a deep, contented sigh before he moves toward the opposite end of the table, taking the dull hum of energy with him. 

Across the table, he sits. His gaze finds yours again as you stare at him, finding it difficult to look anywhere else. Even with the smell of a divine meal, your attention on him is a fixed point. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, casual and confident. 

“Have what you like,” he offers. “I don’t know what you enjoy and I didn’t want to pry.”

The table is full of options. You chew the inside of your cheek. There is glazed duck and roasted ham, creamy looking potatoes and sauced vegetables. Your stomach growls and twists painfully as you stare at your choices. 

“The duck is good,” he offers gently. You glance up. He nods towards the dish in question. “Sorry, it’s probably overwhelming.”

“A little,” you answer, but take him up on his advice and go for the duck. “Where are we?”

“In between.”

You frown as you plate different foods, fingers sticky as you do. You’re hyper-aware of him watching you and you try not to look up, feeling your hands quake as you add roasted veggies to your plate. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does. We’re at the in-between of all things. Not a solid place in your sense of understanding. It’s not a physical manifestation of a land mass, but it is a world that contains physical things.” 

“A… dimension?”

“Exactly. This is my domain.”

“And what… are you?”

You look up at him then. His lips twitch at the corners and he tongues the inside of his cheek. “A god. But you already knew that.”

“Wanted to hear you say it.” 

Silence falls between you as you pick up a knife and fork, cutting carefully into your meat. You pop it between your lips, sighing when the duck melts on your tongue with the taste of honey and something else. You sag in the chair, not realizing until now how tense you had been to this point. The food sends a wave of warmth through you and the god watches as you take a few bites, patient as you eat.

“This is fantastic,” you say, glancing at him as you reach for a glass of water. “The flavors are like nothing I’ve ever had.”

“I assure you that all things here are like nothing you’ve ever had.” You hum in agreement, taking another eager bite. You cannot imagine anything in the real world tasting this succulent. You almost wonder if perhaps this is all a dream. “You didn’t pray before you began to eat.”

Your chewing pauses. He’s bemused, giving you a sideways grin with his brows raised. You swallow thickly and say, “Praying never got me anywhere until recently. Why did you help me?”

“Because you asked.”

“You didn’t have to, though.”

It isn’t a question. He answers anyway. “I didn’t.”

“So why did you? The other gods have never helped me.”

“The other gods aren’t me.” His voice is soft and lethal, raising the hair on your arms. “We are not all the same, and you’d do well to not make any further comparisons moving forward.” 

You lower your gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Gods are fickle beings. We are quick to offend and slow to let go. You don’t know any better and are thus forgiven.” 

“What do I call you?”

For a moment, he hesitates. You think he isn’t going to answer just as he says, “Yoongi. You can call me Yoongi.”

“Is that your name?” 

“It’s one of them.” 

“How many names do you have?”

He chuckles. It’s a delightful sound and you smile, watching him lean his head back against his chair, looking up as he shrugs. “How much time do you have?”

Time. 

Suddenly, you remember that you aren’t here on this god - Yoongi’s - good graces. You’re here because you called for someone in a moment of need and he agreed to help you, but at a cost. Your time. He had asked for your time, and a sense of anxiety tiptoes its way up your spine as you think about the ambiguity of his deal. 

Swallowing harshly, you shift back in your seat. The food in your stomach feels a little heavy, far too rich for you to eat more than a few bites. You’ve only ever known your parents’ staples of meat, bread, cheese, and root vegetables. 

“When you saved me,” you begin. “You made a deal with me.”

“I did.”

“My freedom in exchange for my time.”

His eyes are glittering as he watches you, completely still. The fireplace next to you crackles. It makes shadows dance across his face, giving him the appearance of something wild and untamed. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch him, this godly being, as he stares you down. 

“That was the deal,” he finally hums. His head cocks to the side a little. “I don’t usually discuss business over dinner.”

“I’m done eating.”

He huffs but doesn’t seem annoyed. “Perhaps tea, then? It will help settle your stomach.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know that my stomach needs settling?” 

“I know a lot of things.” Yoongi rises and gestures to the chairs directly in front of the fireplace. You stand, following his lead. There’s a quiver of energy in the air and you pause, turning to look back at the table to see it’s completely bare, no trace of anything left. You whip around to look at Yoongi as he sits in a wingback chair. “I can do a lot of things.”

A steaming cup of tea sits on a wooden table next to the chair you sink into. The cushions are soft, swallowing you in and making your muscles melt. The cup is warm when you pick it up, steam curling off the surface. Sniffing, your eyes flutter as you inhale the smell of mint. 

“What are you the god of?” You open your eyes and look at him. Both of his feet are planted flat on the floor, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He looks a little stiff, more so than he did at dinner. Orange firelight reflects in his inky eyes. “You’re a god of the dark.” 

“There’s no such thing,” he scoffs, and you frown. “Your concept of gods is skewed. There is neither good nor evil, light nor dark. There are just gods.” 

“So it doesn’t matter who you pray to?”

“We don’t need your patronage. If we did, we wouldn’t be gods, would we?” You’d never thought of it that way. You sip your tea, letting the warmth and sharp mint bloom in your mouth. “We’re beyond the simple classification that mortals use to understand and organize what they think our intentions are. I have been classed as both good and evil, light and dark, benevolent and malevolent.”

“But surely there are things that are inherently evil, even among the gods.”

“Of course there isn’t. Evil is a point of view. It is a word used to define the feeling one has when the opposite of their desire occurs.” 

“I… guess that makes sense. But isn’t something like murder wrong?”

“Are you not the villain of the duck you ate today?” You blanch. Yoongi looks smug as he gestures vaguely with his hands. “Are you not evil for calling down the wrath of a god on Nathaniel Laudermill?”

“He was going to kill me.”

“You rejected his hand in marriage. You did the opposite of what he desired. I believe in his eyes, you are the evil. Is Death evil for doing what he was made to do?” 

Yoongi’s words make your head spin. You gulp a mouthful of scalding tea before setting it on the table next to you, your mind reeling. The realization that you’re sitting in a library with a starry ceiling arguing over morals and the concept of evil with a god who has saved you from certain death makes you giggle. 

He seems surprised by your sudden outburst, raising his brows as you cover your mouth, your fingers pressed to your lips as you try to contain your sudden mirth. “Sorry. This seems absolutely insane. I’m arguing over the word ‘evil’ with a god in a realm that is everywhere and nowhere at all. It feels like perhaps I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not. Though your dreams are dizzying and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You should be proud of them.” You furrow your brows. How does he know what you dream of? Before you can ask him to clarify, Yoongi says, “You wanted to discuss the deal.”

“Oh. Right. What did you mean by wanting my time in exchange for my freedom?”

“It’s simple. I want you to spend two weeks each month here.” 

Yoongi’s words sink in as you look at the window behind him. Outside, the world is sinking into what you think might be night. The sky is swimming with stars and constellations, stuck in a perpetual twilight of sorts. You’re reminded that somehow, Yoongi is like the moon and the night itself, especially when you find his dark gaze on you as he waits for your response. 

“Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company.” 

“That’s it? You just want me to hang out in exchange for saving me?” He nods. “That seems too easy.” 

His lips curve upward. “Maybe I’m very annoying.” 

For some reason you think it might not be true. You think of all the things that you’ve heard about the gods. Yoongi tells you that everything you know about them is wrong, but you know that the gods of the dark are tricksters. They are experts in the art of luring mortals in, and you wonder if that’s what he’s doing now. 

“Does it have to be consecutive weeks?” you ask, trying to bide time to collect your thoughts and work out his intentions. “Or can it be a collective?”

“Consecutive.” 

“What… what happens when I go home? With my family.”

Yoongi’s face grows stormy. You shift in your seat. “You’re under my protection,” he says after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll bear a mark that protects you. No one will force their will upon you again.”

“Can you?”

He shakes his head, long hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He looks haunting in the firelight, but beautiful. You avert your gaze, fixating on the books in the room instead. “You have my word, I will never control you. I promised you freedom, that includes me.” 

“But I have to be here. I can’t escape from that. Is that freedom?”

“You made that decision of your own free will. It’s your words that bind you here, not mine. While you’re here, you are able to do whatever it is you desire. In fact, I encourage it.” 

“Wording is really important to you, isn’t it?”

He chuckles and inclines his head, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “It is. Consider the first day of your deal already spent. You slept most of it off while you healed.” Yoongi stands, drawing your attention to him. “Sleep more,” he insists gently. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a tour.”

The thought of a tour - and seeing Yoongi for more days - thrills you. Taehyung appears at the doorway as Yoongi escorts you out. He wishes you goodnight and lets Taehyung take you back to your room, though you feel his gaze and presence as you leave. 

It isn’t until you’re back in your room that you realize you never asked Yoongi how long your deal is supposed to last. It occurs to you that while he has given you a sort of freedom, perhaps he has taken something from you after all. 

-

Tall trees surround you. Above them, you can make out a swirling sky of stars and planets and several moons, so bright that it turns the forest a shade of blue. The woods around you are familiar, and there’s a well-walked path just ahead of you that leads to the river by your home. You’ve walked among these trees and creatures hundreds of times, but never with a sky like this.

Crickets chirp as you walk through the woods now. Grass tickles your bare feet, the earth soft and damp beneath you. It smells like fresh rain, but there’s no flood or mud as you navigate by instinct. 

It’s peaceful out here. How many times have you come here to escape your father’s rage? How many times have you sat, back pressed against a tree, watching the light fade from the world until it was too dark to see where you were going? You always managed to get home safely, even with the lack of light. 

The river rushes a few yards ahead. You pick a spot to sit and watch, beneath the cover of leaves. The sound of running water and the smell of rain on the wind lulls you into a trance and you close your eyes, resting for a while. 

Here is where you find peace. Where you dream. 

Awareness creeps up on you and you open your eyes, looking upward as you sense someone approaching. Yoongi stands next to you, onyx eyes gazing at the river. He’s in black clothes like before, his hands tucked into his pockets. You smell clove and cinnamon, making you dizzy. Power radiates off of him but it feels warm and safe. Like the night air itself comes from his existence. 

“Am I dreaming?” you ask him. He looks down at you, an obsidian strand of hair falling in his face. He nods, giving you a gentle smile. “This is often where I go to dream.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer you. He looks back to the rushing river, his face becoming unreadable. He looks like he’s somewhere far away, lost in his thoughts. Absently, he says, “Your dreams are my favorite.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are bright, full of life and color and sound. You dream the way people create art, the way people create worlds. It is rare to see such magnificence among the sleeping.” 

“I just…” you shrug. “Think of places I would rather be.” 

Yoongi looks at you then and his face is shadowed, full of thunder. “You’ll never be forced to live that life again.” 

“Do you promise?” 

He opens and closes his mouth, narrowing his eyes a little before shaking his head. You feel a smile tug at your mouth, endeared by his microexpressions. “Yes, little lamb. I promise.”

-

You wake with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around. The room spins as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your physical and mental awareness completely out of sync as you swivel your head, drinking in the unfamiliar room and the soft sheets that smell like clove and cinnamon. 

For a moment, you forget where you are, and adrenaline surges through you. Your fingers twist in the sheets as you ground yourself, memories from the day before slotting into place. Letting out a long exhale, you relax, flopping backward in the opulent bed, your heart rate slowing down as your panic bleeds out of you. 

You’re in Yoongi’s home. In a place that is somewhere in between - whatever that means. The god has told you on multiple occasions that you’re safe and have nothing to fear from him and for some reason…. You believe him. Maybe it’s naive, but you can’t erase the feeling that Yoongi is being honest with you, that he has good intentions. 

Perhaps it’ll get you into trouble one day. For now, you cast off doubt and peel yourself out of bed, trailing to the windowed doors that lead to the balcony beyond. You try the handle and are delighted to find them unlocked. Slipping through the doors, you’re met with warm, balmy air. It smells like petrichor, the breeze kissing your skin gently.

Like before, the world seems wrapped in permanent twilight. There is no sun in the sky, but a vast stretch of swimming stars and the largest moon you’ve ever seen. In the distance, dark mountains loom over you, their peaks capped in snow and wreathed in mist. 

Forest stretches out toward them in a vibrant shade of green. There’s a settee on the balcony along with a table and chairs. Leaning on the stone railing, you look down to see colorful gardens and a large pond full of vibrant fish.

All of the radiance makes you smile. You’ve never seen colors so rich, and you’re unable to recall if your world was this vibrant. The garden below is bursting with violet and cerulean, the flowers unfamiliar to you. Their fragrant smell wafts up to the balcony, a hint of sweetness in the air. 

A roll of thunder catches your attention. You look to the east, noticing that one of the mountains in the distance is darker than the others. Lightning crackles in the sky around it and the mist is heavier there. You think the trees are darker too, though you can’t tell if they’re gray or if it’s the shade from the swollen thunderheads drifting over them. 

Behind you, the door to the balcony opens and startles you. Whirling around, you find Taehyung leaning against the frame, mouth curved upwards in a sideways grin. “When you didn’t answer the door I got worried.”

“I thought I was safe here? What is there to be worried about?”

He shrugs. “Maybe you took a dive off of the balcony.”

“What is that place?” you point to the thundering, shrouded mountain. Taehyung looks where you point, his smile dropping as he stares at the looming peak. “By the look on your face, somewhere bad.”

“Bad is a relative term.” 

You scrunch your nose. “You sound like Yoongi.”

“Already familiar, are we? Cute.” He pushes off the door frame and beckons you inside. “Ask Yoongi about it on your tour.”

“Are you not coming along?”

“I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not give tours.”

If it weren’t for Taehyung’s playful tone and glint in his eye when he casts you a glance, you’d think you were bothering him. Instead of getting angry, he drapes himself on one of the couches by the fireplace, long legs dangling off the arm as he lounges.

Today, he’s in charcoal colored pants and a red, billowing shirt that shows off the smooth, tan skin of his chest. A dangling earring catches your attention as he leans his head back, silky hair shifting. If Yoongi is made of moonlight, you think that Taehyung might be made of sunlight: golden skin, warm energy. 

“By all means,” you mutter. “Hang out.” 

“This is my home first, human. I shall do as I please.”

You make a sound at the back of your throat and roll your eyes, walking toward a large, polished wardrobe made from dark wood. It smells like fresh cedar when you pull on the brass handle, opening the door to reveal tunics and dresses, all hung neatly. 

Rich silks, velvets and cottons greet you. You run your hand over the materials, amazed at how soft they feel. They are far better quality than your mother ever had access to. Your heart squeezes when you think of her, and you shake your head a little as if to physically dispel thoughts of your family out of your mind.

Facing them seems like an impossible task. You know that you’ll have to eventually. Two weeks with Yoongi in this strange world seems like a long time, but you’re not sure if it’s nearly long enough to mentally prepare to go back and face them after what’s happened. Will they still be angry? What will they say? Will they have been worried about you all this time?

There’s no way to know the answer. So instead, you pretend none of that exists. For once, you have stumbled into a dream and adventure like you’ve always wanted, and you intend on playing the part. 

An emerald shirt catches your eye. It’s made of a silky material, supple when you rub the sleeve between your fingers. It’s plain, save for the laced string at the throat to cinch and tie it off. You grab a pair of black, cotton pants as well, the fabric just as soft as the sheets in your bed. 

With Taehyung humming on the couch, you let yourself into the bathroom to change. You appreciate that the floor is warm wherever you go barefoot, and you quickly slide out of your clothes from the previous day and into the new ones. The measurements are a little off, but more than manageable as you pull the tie closed at your throat. Glancing into the mirror, you can’t help but smile a little.

You look so different. The shirt belongs to someone adventurous, you think. Perhaps a pirate or a huntress riding atop her horse through the woods. You slide your fingers along the material, its softness inviting and magical. 

Two weeks. You’ll be here for two weeks with Yoongi, a god who has been alive for hundreds of years, if your conversation from the night before was anything to go off of. It feels surreal and you’re a little nervous, but more than that, you’re excited.

Suddenly, the world is full of possibilities. No marriage to tie you down, no power held in your parents’ hands. 

 “Gods you’re slow to get dressed,” Taehyung announces when you enter the room. He sits up, appraising your outfit. “Green looks good on you.”

“How many are there?” he cocks his head at your question, peeling himself from the seat. “Gods and goddesses, I mean.”

“Pfft. Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” 

“Maybe thousands, I don’t really know. There’s basically an infinite amount of universes. All anyone mostly cares about are the Eternals, the gods who remain the same no matter what name or history mortals assign to them.”

“Eternals?”

“Mhmm.” Taehyung leads you into the hallway. His hands are tucked into his pockets as he strolls leisurely. You follow beside him eagerly, looking up as he seems thoughtful. “Gods are hard to define. They are great beings with massive power. Some gods do the same thing, some don’t. They come from the infinite amount of worlds to which they are native, and somehow make it into mortal history. But the Eternals have always been here, always known. They do not change.”

“Who are the Eternals?”

“Life, death, chaos, time, pathos, dream and fate.” He makes a face then. “Fate and chaos are hard. They work in direct opposition to one another. It drives time insane, naturally.”

Seven Eternals. It makes sense, from a logical standpoint. Every world must have life and death and the passing of time. Where there exists a living thing, there exists a vessel of emotion and dreams. In all worlds there is the potential for chaos disrupting fate. 

“Yoongi is an Eternal?”

Taehyung glances sidelong at you, smug. “Yes, Yoongi is an Eternal.”

“Why do you look at me like that when I say his name?” Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead smirking as if he’s enjoying a private joke. Your fists close and open as you swallow down a demand to tell you what he finds so amusing. “Which one is he?”

“Have you no guesses?”

That makes you think. Recalling the night before, you remember the way Yoongi looks: dark eyes swimming with something magical, a soft and raspy voice, the way he appeared in your dreams. 

Though your dreams are mesmerizing and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You recall what he said about your dreams, the way he leveled his gaze at you, full of meaning that you didn’t understand. 

“Dreams,” you say, certain that you're right. “He’s the Eternal of Dreams?”

“He isn’t of dreams. He is Dream.”

You’re unable to clarify Taehyung’s emphasis on Yoongi being a deity of dreams as he opens the door to the same library as before. This time, he doesn’t knock. When you step inside, you realize it’s because the room is empty. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen, though pale light filters in through the windows. It’s still forever twilight outside, yet a little lighter. It feels like morning, even if it does not entirely appear to be morning. 

Behind you, the door shuts. You turn to see Taehyung has left without another word, leaving you entirely alone in the captivating space. 

Without hesitation, you walk to the nearest shelf housing rows and rows of books. The spines range from muted browns and neutrals to bright reds and rich blues. Velvet books, leather books, canvas, silk. There is no shortage of materials making up each one, letters painted, printed or stitched down the back of them to denote what they are. 

Each one breathes a world of possibility as you drag your finger along the shape of them. You wonder how many worlds and histories are scribbled away in the pages of this room, the very idea of it overwhelming. 

Trinkets and objects you’re unfamiliar with line the shelves as well. Your fingers trace their shape and you wonder what they are. One object in particular catches your eye in the corner of the room. It stands on three metal legs and has large, interlocking rings that spin lazily in some unknown pattern. The rings are hammered metal and appear to have markings engraved on them.

The device slowly spins of its own accord. Upon inspection, there seems to be nothing else responsible for its motion except magic or science that is beyond you. You can see that there are seven metal rings and different markings on each of them, but you cannot guess what the engravings read. 

“It represents the balance of the Eternals. Taehyung mentioned you had a vague starting point as to what I am.”

Yoongi’s deep voice makes you leap and screech, spinning on your heels to face him. Your hand flies to your chest and you can feel your heartbeat rattling wildly. Yoongi stands a few feet away from you, hands linked behind his back and eyebrows raised at your reaction. 

He’s dressed similar to the night before, though a little more casual. His black pants are tucked into knee high boots, and his black shirt is loose fitted with silver stitching around the collar. You notice that it’s in patterns of stars and moons, furthering your confirmation that Yoongi is associated with dreams in some manner. 

Yoongi’s long hair is pulled half out of his face today, tied away in a bun. The rest of his hair brushes the tops of his shoulders as his inky eyes regard you patiently. His curiosity makes you feel warm all over and you drop your hands to your sides, fingers twitching. 

“How so?” you ask. You turn back to the device. “What does it run on?”

“Our energy. Each ring represents a member of my family. The speed at which they turn represents the balance among us. When the speed is off, the balance is off.”

“What causes the balance to be off?” 

Yoongi steps closer to you. You hold your breath as he does it, but you can feel his presence like a buzzing vibration at the back of your neck.

His voice is softer when he answers, “A number of things. Sometimes some of us aren’t always performing the way we should be. Other times, we’re overperforming. Or fighting, really, as siblings are wont to do.”

“I don’t know what that’s like.”

“You’re not missing much. Especially when your siblings are as ancient and never ending as you are.” 

“How… old are you?”

You look at Yoongi to see he’s standing next to you now. He looks at you, face impassive as he lifts a shoulder. “How old is the earth? How old is existence? It’s hard to say.” 

“Where do you come from?”

“Chaos was first. Life and Death were next, twins born of the sudden whims of Chaos. I was next, for Life often dreamed. Time was always there, though no one knows if Time or Chaos came first. Pathos and Fate came later.”

You nod, though you don’t fully understand the scope of how old and fathomless the existence of things like chaos and time and dreams are. It makes your head spin, trying to conceptualize the thing next to you who looks very much like an ordinary man being something so ancient and primordial that he precedes human existence entirely. 

“You’re overwhelmed,” he notes, a bit of amusement in his voice. “I don’t blame you. The best way to understand it is that I am a living concept that can never be destroyed, so long as there exists something to dream about.” 

Crossing his arms in front of him, Yoongi clasps his hands and gives you a slight smile. He has a pretty smile, you realize. Delicate and almost shy. It makes your heart flutter and you mentally chastise yourself for thinking that a being of eternal dreams can possibly be shy. 

“How about a tour? Our deal is that you’ll spend two weeks a month here. I’d love for you to feel like this is a place you can be familiar with, if not something akin to a home.”

“Home?”

His smile grows. “If that word ever seems fitting, sure.”

Home. The word makes you think about what home means to you and suddenly you feel a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. Flashes of a flooded forest, lighting lancing across the sky, hands gripping you tight and shoving you under the water. 

“Um,” you clear your throat. “So a tour.”

Yoongi’s eyes glitter as he grins and turns, using a hand to gesture to the wide library. “This is the main library, but we’ll end our tour here. Let’s go through the gardens first, it’s nice weather.”

Yoongi starts without you, leaving you to stand staring after him as he goes. His gait is smooth and confident. He presses on a pane of glass that you realize is a door. A breeze teases the loose pieces of his hair, carrying the familiar scent of clove and cinnamon toward you. 

For a moment, you stare after him. Yoongi being a deity of dreams makes so much sense in this moment, stepping into the twilight, face tilted upward slightly as though he’s soaking up the sun. He looks radiant. Tranquil. When he turns to look at you expectantly, his rose pink mouth quirks sideways. 

“Right,” you say, hurrying to follow him. “Outside is where we start.” 

When you pass him, you get the sense that Yoongi wants to tease you further. Instead, he says nothing and leads you into the gardens. A cobblestone path leads from the door through wisteria trees, their amethyst leaves swooping down and filling the air with sweet fragrance. 

Up above, the sky is a mix of blue and purple, thousands of stars twinkling. There is a stone bench near one of the windows of the library, but Yoongi leads you away from the palace and down the path under the trees. The air is crisp and pleasant, cooling your anxious, sweat-slick skin. 

Yoongi links his hands behind his back. “This is the library garden,” he informs you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s mostly wisteria trees, which are my favorite to walk through when I need to think.”

“They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Much different from the woods outside of your home.”

“You know the woods outside of my home?”

“You called me there, remember?” You blanch at the memory, but if he notices, Yoongi says nothing. “Besides, I’m familiar with the woods that surround your home. Your village pays homage to my brother.”

“Your brother?”

He hums. “Life. Perhaps they don’t know that it’s him they pray to, but they do.”

Taking a left, Yoongi leads you on a looping path through the massive wisteria trees. They’re larger than anything you’ve ever seen, their bows sweeping monoliths of purple, trunks thick as boulders. A strange creature sits on the branches of one of the trees, making you stop and stare. 

A tiny, carnelian creature sits on a bough, bright against the lavender background of the leaves. It has four legs and scaled feet, sharp talons cutting into the bark as it keeps its balance in the tree. Small wings are folded on its back, bony limbs with paper-thin skin between them, a lighter red than the rest of its body. A long tail snakes around the branch, holding the creature in place as its long neck extends, head tilting to look at you curiously.

“Is that a dragon?” you whisper, staring at it.

You’ve only heard them described in stories, but you don’t really know what they look like. It has scales like a lizard and it blinks two large eyes at you, entirely black. There are small horns on its head, and a forked tongue snakes out as it tastes the air. 

“She’s a fey dragon,” Yoongi hums, looking up at the creature with a smile. “And she’s not supposed to be in the trees here, are you?”

A puff of smoke curls from the dragon’s nose as it huffs, making you take a step backward. Yoongi lets out a deep laugh that makes a tingle rattle down your spine and your toes curl. The sound is like smoke and velvet, heady in the air. 

“She won’t hurt you,” Yoongi assures, shaking his head to continue walking under the dragon’s branch. “She’s a pesky little thing, but she is incredibly sweet. Fey dragons are much smaller than their firedrake cousins and less dangerous than their basilisk relatives.”

With your eyes cast upward, you hurry after Yoongi, keeping your gaze on the large lizard as you run under the branch. Her dark eyes follow you, unblinking and fathomless. The hair on your arms stands up and you can’t help but feel that despite the dragon being small and what Yoongi calls harmless, it is incredibly intelligent. 

“There are dragons here?” 

“There is everything here.”

You frown, finally turning away from the dragon as you leave it behind. “That’s confusing. Everything as in…?”

“When you dream, you have limitless potential. You can go anywhere, be anything, see any creature. Dreams even invent things that do not exist in the natural world. Creatures, stories, songs, words, plants. The possibility for creation in a dream is limitless, and this place is the essence of dreams. It is me.”

“So you are this place and the place is you?”

He seems thoughtful before nodding. “More or less. This is a dream realm as much as it is a collection of ideas, thoughts and hopes. Everything that every living creature has ever dreamed about walks these lands.”

“Even nightmares?”

Yoongi pulls up short and whips his head at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to meet his eyes under his severe expression. In the distance, you swear you hear thunder. An apology springs to your lips, but before you can give it, Yoongi nods sharply once and begins walking again.

“Nightmares too. Do not speak of nightmares here, lest they come searching.”

You think about Taehyung telling you that you were safe but being concerned when you didn’t answer the door earlier that morning. A chill seeps into your bones as you rejoin Yoongi on your walk, his pace not as relaxed now. 

“They come searching?” you try, a little curious, a little afraid. 

“Yes. They are different from dreams. Unpredictable in a way I admire and dislike.” He glances sidelong at you. “They have a mind of their own. You are safe with me always, but it’s best practice to not think of them while you’re here. This world has a way of manifesting.”

For a few moments, you walk in silence. You let your questions fall silent as you look around. The two of you exit the wisteria trees to see a large pond. A single, massive wisteria sits on its western edge with a bench underneath it. 

The surface of the pond is dark and smooth, reflecting the swirling stars in the sky. Yoongi leads you around the mirror surface and points out the mountains in the distance that you could see from your windows. 

“Mountains of Sleep,” he tells you. “It is where all beings who are ready for their eternal rest come to dream for the remainder of their existence. They are also called the Mountains of Divinity, for there are hundreds of divine immortals among their peaks.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Not all beings rest here. Some prefer their own planes and resting grounds. But this existed before those places, and has long been used for the tired and the weary who are ready to retire.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. The dead cannot come here.” He hesitates. “When they do, it is because they are not a dream.”

You get the sense that Yoongi is talking about nightmares again and you shiver as he takes you around the pond. “Don’t let anything in that body of water convince you to go swimming. They won’t intentionally hurt you but they don’t understand the concept of human life.”

“They?”

“They don’t have a name. They are water-folk who were dreamt up by someone once. I admire them and they’re beautiful and wicked smart, but they’re a bit cheeky.”

“I’m starting not to feel as safe as you said I was.”

Yoongi stops and frowns. He lifts a hand as though he’s about to touch your arm before he thinks better of it and drops it at his side. You realize you’re disappointed that he did before mentally kicking yourself, feeling a little ashamed to be so affected by a god. You’re sure Yoongi gets it often, but it makes you feel silly nonetheless. 

“You are safe.” He lowers his head a little, catching your gaze. Though his eyes are midnight black, you swear you see the stars above reflected in their dark pools. “But there are rules everywhere. This place has them just the same as your home did. You were relatively safe there, but there were rules.”

“And then I broke them and Nathaniel tried to murder me.”

“Nathaniel was dealt with and will never touch you again.” Thunder rolls in the distance and your heart flutters at the vehemence with which Yoongi says this. “The misdeeds of your family cannot chase you here.”

You don’t press Yoongi on the matter. Instead, you let him proceed with the tour, keeping your questions to a minimum as you wonder what Yoongi meant by Nathaniel being dealt with. You recall the soft, susurrated voice against your ear when Yoongi found you. The gentle brush of something like a kiss to your neck. The rage and power as he stepped in front of you to face Nathaniel when the deal was done.

It does not require much to make an assumption about Yoongi’s meaning. 

The yards of his palace are sprawling and full of color. Gardens with flowers he doesn’t know the name of but said a little girl had dreamed them and he liked them so he made more. Butterflies with colors you didn’t know existed flitting from plant to plant. Fruit orchards with the ripest, reddest apples you’ve ever seen. 

And the palace. It is the only word you have for it. The building is several stories tall, hewn from dark stone with at least five different towers. Starlight glitters in the windows as Yoongi guides you up the stairs toward the massive double doors that lead to the main entrance of the castle. On the door handle are two wrought-iron griffons with proud faces. 

Without a touch, the doors open on Yoongi’s arrival. You wonder if the building responds to his presence as the door swings open for the two of you. Inside, the foyer is as magnificent as the library, a lush purple carpet rolling over stone floors. 

In the center of the room is a massive spiral staircase. Looking up, you see that it goes all the way up the floors of the palace, dizzying circles of floor after floor. Yoongi explains there are other ways to go all the way up to the top throughout the castle but this is the easiest way, though he assures you that by the third floor you’d be out of breath. 

Each room Yoongi shows you is opulent and warm. Rich, deep wooden furniture, paintings with dark splashes of amethyst, scarlet and gold. Rooms for tea, rooms for painting, rooms for music, rooms for dancing. Yoongi has a room for everything, sometimes occupied by strange little creatures that hide when you walk in or curious things that lift their heads when they see him. 

No one else besides Taehyung seems to be there, though. You come across felines, little balls of light that bounce around Yoongi excitedly and light him up like a burst of flame, a little furry thing that you think is a fox but in a shade of shocking sapphire, and a massive wolf with eyes like ice that blink apathetically at you as you walk by. But never once do you see another person. Even Taehyung seems to be amiss. 

“Does no one else live here?” Yoongi takes you through another room empty of people and things. “It’s so empty.” 

He takes his time to answer as you leave the room and move into the hallway. It’s hard to tell which way you’re going, but you think that you’re headed toward the library again. Your legs ache from going up and down the stairs on an endless tour of rooms, and you’re eager to be in the library once more. 

“There used to be,” Yoongi says slowly. “But people don’t tend to do well in places that they don’t belong.”

“So you’re all alone here?”

His smile is sad. “I have Taehyung.” He pauses before he adds, “And now you.”

I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company. You think of Yoongi’s words from the night before and suddenly you’re filled with sadness. Sadness for this ancient being, who seems so gentle and quiet. Who lives alone in this giant castle with all of the world’s dreams around him and no one to share them with. 

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “How do you know I belong?”

“Pardon?”

“Do I? Belong, I mean. You wouldn’t… have me here if I wouldn’t do well, right?”

“No one dreams the way you do.” He says this firmly. Confident. Fierce. “I believe there is nothing you wouldn’t be able to find here.”

“Do you always know what I dream about?” 

“No. But you dream… loudly. Colorfully. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore. I don’t like to pry, though.” 

“Can you see everyone’s dreams?”

“Mhmm. I even make some.”

This catches your attention and you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. He glances down where your fingers touch his skin, your fingers buzzing where you’re connected. You flush with warmth and drop your hand, clearing your throat at how forward grabbing him was. 

Yoongi is smirking when you ask, “Can you show me?”

“One day, yes. For now, the end of the tour and lunch.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach rumbles. His grin spreads into a full smile and Yoongi leads you back to the library. Again, the doors open without his touch and as you pass them, you study them for any sign of an auto-opening mechanism but find none. 

Yoongi’s magic appears limitless. You remember the food disappearing from dinner, the swell of power as Yoongi agreed to save you, and his sudden appearance as you were drowning. You know nothing about the god of dreams or what he’s capable of, but you’re awed at how easy it comes to him. 

“This is the main library.” Yoongi turns around to face you, sweeping his arms out on either side of him. “There are two others: one in my room and one located in the dream tower.”

“You didn’t show me the dream tower.”

“I’ll show you when you’re ready.” 

Unsure what ready means to Yoongi, you look around the library. Same as the night before, the shelves are crammed full of books and scrolls, so much paper and ink that it makes you lightheaded with excitement. It still smells of lemon and wax, though as you pass Yoongi to go to a shelf, you’re overcome with clove and cinnamon again. 

Trying to ignore the shiver that merely walking by Yoongi gives you, you brush the spines of books once again, feeling their potential under your fingertips. 

“You always have access to this library. You can read what you like.”

A pang goes through you and you drop your hand. Without looking at him, you mumble, “Thank you, but I can’t read.”

No response comes. You stare unseeing at the books before taking a breath to turn your head and steal a glance at Yoongi. You expect some sort of amusement or perhaps pity, but his face is unreadable, jaw working.

“That’s okay,” he finally says. “We will teach you. After lunch we will make a schedule to help fill your time here. Reading and writing lessons will be a part of that.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Do you mean that?”

“Do you want to learn?” You nod your head eagerly. He grins gently. “Then we will teach you.” 

-

Yoongi’s eyes are dark as he presses forward. Your breath catches in your chest as you lay back, looking up at him with your lips parted, heart hammering in your chest. He settles his waist against you, the weight of him pressing you into your bed as you lay back. 

He is so beautiful that it puts you in a daze, staring up into his face as he leans over you. His hair is pulled back, but a few dark strands hang loose. His mouth is stained red with wine, making you want to lean forward and taste his lips and feel their softness. 

Tentatively, you reach a hand up and brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear. You don’t stop touching him, though, hand cradling his flushed face. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your palm as you cup his cheek, thumb sweeping back and forth. 

“Is this what you dream of?” he whispers, eyes remaining closed. “Being under me, like this?”

Dreaming. You realize you’re dreaming. You jolt and suddenly, you’re alone. 

-

“Your handwriting is terrible,” Taehyung admits, looming over your shoulder. You grip the quill tighter, nearly snapping it in two. “But you learn unbelievably fast. How many of these letters do you think you have consistently memorized?” 

Taehyung is in charge of your writing lessons today and you already want to kill him. It’s been five days of your new residency in the House of Dreams, as Yoongi calls it, and you’ve quickly learned that Taehyung is equally charming and playful as he is outright vexing. 

Instead of turning to give him a very harsh poke in the arm with your quill, you scan the shapes in front of you. There are twenty-six of them, all awkwardly slanted and misshapen where you’ve used too much ink or not enough. Using a quill and ink feels alien to your hand and your fingers struggle to remember the proper way to hold it as you draw your letters. 

“I think most of them,” you answer slowly, mentally sounding out each word on the page in your head as you go. “But there are a few of them that confuse me. The lowercase ‘d’ and ‘b’ I find nearly impossible to recall and ‘v’ and ‘u’ are rather frustrating.” 

“Whenever you see a ‘u’, think of it as having a scoop. Sc-uuup.” Taehyung points to a ‘u’ on the page and mimics the scooping motion. “Might be easier to associate the sound scoop with ‘u’ even though the word itself doesn’t have a ‘u’.” 

The desperate look you give him makes him laugh as you struggle to imagine why a word with a ‘u’ sound doesn’t actually contain the letters. You’re saved from Taehyung’s maddening - but helpful - instruction as Yoongi walks into the library. 

“You’d better not be laughing at her again.” 

Taehyung steps away from you and bows his head toward Yoongi. “I’m laughing with her. We’re just sharing amusement over the hypocrisy of letters.”  

“Yeah,” you deadpan. “It’s hilarious.”

Today, Yoongi is in a deep, amethyst colored shirt. It’s laced at the throat with the familiar moon and stars that he has stitched on much of his clothing, and his hair down and long, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. As always, he’s in dark pants and boots today, the sound of them clicking on the stone floor as he nudges Taehyung out of the way to peer over your shoulder. 

You tense. Being around Yoongi for the last five days has been intoxicating. It is bad enough that you get distracted during your lessons by the way his voice rumbles when he speaks and the way he chews his lips when working on his own things while you study. It’s worse that now he invades your dreams, whispering in your ear and hands wandering over your curves, sinful mouth brushing over your skin and leaving you to jolt awake in bed covered in sweat.

The very idea that Yoongi knows what you're dreaming of drives you to the edge of insanity. He’d promised he preferred to avoid your dreams, but you wonder if he knows. Knows that you have developed an insatiable habit of fantasizing about his hands, or about the tone of his voice. 

Gripping your quill tight, you hold your breath when he leans over you. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel the heat of him and smell him, cinnamon and clove making your eyes flutter. If you didn’t know he was the god of dreams, you’d mistake him for the god of lust, if that was a thing.

“Why aren’t you breathing?” You peer upward to see Yoongi looking down at you. If you tilted your head back just a fraction more, you’d be pressed against his chest. Even from upside down, his moon-pale face and cosmos eyes make you want to scream. “Are you alright?”

“Nervous that I’m not performing well.”

His face softens. “You’re a quick learner. Don’t worry about progress and pace.”

“But what if I lose it when I go h- back.” 

Home. That’s what you were going to say. But the idea of home is terrifying. You don’t know what waits for you when you go back. You don’t know what splitting time between two worlds means. You don’t know what you’ll do when you have to spend two weeks there before coming back to Yoongi. 

Five days in Yoongi’s realm has been enough to make you feel like this has always been your life. You fit into the daily routines of Yoongi and Taehyung better than you imagined, and though you still sometimes get lost in the House of Dreams, you discover that you’re adapting. 

There’s always something new to discover, an adventure around the corner. You like learning your letters and the sounds that they make. You love studying the maps in the library and tracing the distances between countries you can’t name and have no idea where they are. 

Most of all, you love exploring. Rooms upon rooms of objects both normal and magical. Creatures that roam freely around the palace - including a clever little fox that has taken interest in following you around as you take breaks from studying by walking around the grounds. 

While Yoongi’s home doesn’t feel like it belongs to you, you’re more afraid to go back to your mother and father than you are to go near the pond at the edge of the wisteria garden. 

So you avoid thinking of going back.

“You’ll practice while you’re there,” Yoongi says, as though it’s the easiest answer in the world. “You have to practice every day.”

“My father won’t- he doesn’t…” You shake your head, unable to get the words out. That your father would strike you to the ground if he found you with books again. “I can’t bring anything back with me.”

“Sure you can.” You glance at him to find his expression is firm. “I told you, you’re under my protection. Things will be very different for you when you go back.”

“How?”

“It’s… difficult to say.” 

Yoongi offers nothing else. You become hyper aware of how close he’s standing to you again and you look down at your letter practicing. With a shaky hand, you dip the quill into the ink, lifting it from the inkwell and letting the excess drip before bringing it over to the paper. 

When Yoongi makes no move to leave, you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and continue tracing. He’s content to watch you as you work. If he knows how distracted this makes you, he doesn’t let on. Perhaps he has no idea that as you scrawl a shaky letter ‘k’, it’s Yoongi who consumes your thoughts. 

Even in your waking hours it seems you’re not rid of him. 

Most of your study sessions are like this, Yoongi watching you so closely that it makes your quill bleed too much ink. He is a passive teacher, letting you come to him with questions instead of correcting you constantly like Taehyung does. Even now, when you hesitate on the next letter of the alphabet, Yoongi doesn’t offer his help. Lets you figure it out. 

You dip the quill in ink and continue. 

After you finish the last shaky letter, you set the quill down, flexing your fingers open and closed. Yoongi makes a satisfied noise and steps away. You turn to see him walking toward the table by the fireplace, which is where you have started to take all your meals. Already, there are platters of food and drinks. Taehyung sits in a chair, plucking a grape from a plate and popping it in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a seat at the head of the table. You push yourself up from your chair, legs aching from sitting so long. “Who said you can eat my grapes?”

“Ugh, I’m tired of eating alone.” 

“Let him stay, Yoongi.” The god looks at you with a glower, bottom lip jutted out slightly. It’s so cute that you can’t help but burst into laughter, hand flying to your mouth. “Sorry, I think you just pouted.” 

“He did.” Taehyung grins and leans back in his chair. “He wants you to himself.”

Yoongi hisses Taehyung’s name, shutting down the teasing immediately. You glance at Yoongi shyly as you sit down but he doesn’t meet your eyes, choosing to laden his plate with food instead. You can’t imagine why Yoongi would want you to himself, especially when all you do is ply him with questions. 

Still, a little bit of a thrill goes through you as you start loading your plate, your gaze drifting toward the deity again as he bites into a strawberry, the juice running down his chin. Your eyes track the movement as his tongue darts out, catching the drip before it escapes too far. 

Yoongi’s mouth is hypnotizing and it takes you a moment too long to realize he’s watching you stare at him. Quickly, you grab a cup and bring water to your lips, gulping the cool water and glancing up at the ceiling, feeling embarrassment bloom like warm liquid through you. 

When you put the cup down, you swear you see Yoongi smiling. 

-

Hungry lips suck at the tender flesh of your neck. You gasp, feeling your toes curl in pleasure, head spinning. Yoongi’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, the drag of his rough tongue soothing over the bites driving you mad. You let out a soft moan, eyes squeezing shut as you writhe under him. 

Yoongi’s large hands pin yours above your head, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he continues to ravish your neck with his hot mouth, tongue and teeth. His hips roll over you and you whine, feeling his hard-on pressing against you. 

Your parents would kill you if they knew you were here like this, trapped under a god of the dark as he sucks on your pulse point, mouth moving upward to nip your ear. Your chest is heaving and you can’t get enough breath, overwhelmed by the scent of cinnamon and clove, by the way his mouth pulls sounds from you so easily. 

Yoongi tears his lips away and looks down at you, eyes so dark and blown out that you think he might devour you, swallow you whole in one bite - 

“You’re dreaming of me again,” he whispers. “I don’t know if you mean to be dreaming of me, like this.” 

You startle, realizing this isn’t real, and the illusion fades. 

-

Twilight skies stretch above you. It’s warm outside, but the night air is cool against your skin, making you shiver as you sit down, folding your legs criss-cross. 

“Are you cold?” Yoongi asks, sitting down on the soft grass next to you. You shake your head, eyes fixed on the low table in front of you that's filled with platters of meats, cheeses and crackers. You eye a glass bottle of red liquid that you think is wine, mouth watering. “Are you sure?”

“Promise, the wind feels nice.” 

He looks doubtful as he sits down next to you, a healthy amount of space between you. 

Tonight, Yoongi has insisted on a late night snack outside under the stars. He seems eager, verging on giddy as he glances up at the sky before reaching for the bottle of red liquid and popping the cork. 

After nearly two weeks in the House of Dreams, you’ve learned that this world is forever twilight, lit up by dreams. Here, day and night don’t exist in their truest forms. There are always millions of people and creatures dreaming at every moment of existence, not limiting Yoongi’s world and power to times of day and night. 

The twilight is beautiful. You’ve grown accustomed to the purple tint to the world, the way that it gets just the barest bit darker outside during certain periods, as though even in a world where night and day don’t exist, there are still two separate halves of time. 

Yoongi passes you a glass. You bring it to your nose and sniff, delighted at the scent of cherries and something else. It’s certainly wine, though you wait for him to pour himself a glass to sip any. 

Earrings dangle in Yoongi’s ears tonight. Each lobe has a small, thin chain with a moon charm on the end that’s studded with sapphires, catching the moonlight as he sets down the bottle and sits back. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down again, leaving his full face in view as he looks at you and gives you a gummy grin that scatters your thoughts. 

“Chaos is moving through the sky tonight,” Yoongi informs you, glancing upward. “When she does, she’s beautiful to see. She doesn’t do it that often, but she’s passing us by on her way to do whatever it is she does somewhere. I wanted you to see.” 

He holds out his drink and you grip yours tight, raising your glass to clink with his like you’ve seen people do at the inn in your village. He turns away from you, bringing his wine to his lips to sip. You follow suit, tentatively tilting your glass.

Sweet cherries bloom on your tongue and you hum in delight. It isn’t just cherries you taste, though. There’s a lush sweetness too, edged with spice, filling your mouth with warmth. You look at Yoongi as you sip and see him watching with a closed-lipped smile, eyes searching your face.

“You like it?” 

You nod and set the glass down. “It’s delicious.” 

“You like sweet things.” 

“And you like salty.” He raises a brow in question. “You’re always going for the salted meats at dinner. And you have salted pork right there,” you point to the meat and cheeseboards. “Do gods get dehydrated?”

“We do not. I didn’t realize you were paying so much attention.” You shrug, picking up your wine to take small sips again. “Anything else you’ve noticed?” 

Everything, you want to say and don’t. You’ve noticed so many things about Yoongi, all of them coming to mind at once. But you don’t want to reveal just how much you’ve watched him over the last two weeks, paying far more attention than is proper. 

You could tell Yoongi how you’ve noticed that he wears seven necklaces exactly, each with a different symbol charm on them that you think corresponds to the seven Eternals. You could tell him that he has the habit of closing his eyes and tilting his face upward, like he’s absorbing moonlight. You know all of his favorite breakfast items, specifically crispy bacon and sugared strawberries. 

And there are other things you could tell him, like in your dreams his lips are soft as sin, his voice low and sultry. You could admit that most nights you feel his grip on your waist and that when you study his hands during your lessons, you can’t help but already know the shape of them. 

Perhaps two weeks back in your village is exactly what you need to get the ridiculous fantasy of this eternal being from your head. You don’t think you could bear the shame of him knowing exactly what living in the in-between realm has done for your imagination in a very unexpected way. 

“You like bacon,” you offer as an answer. “And sugared strawberries. In the evening, whiskey is your favorite. It smells a little bit like honey, but still spicy. And you must work in the dream tower often at night, because the door to the tower smells like clove and cinnamon and you always smell that way.”

Yoongi’s brows shoot up. You hide your expression with your glass of wine, taking a long draught. It hums in your veins, warm and rushing like nothing you’ve ever felt before. When you lower the glass, Yoongi watches you with an intense expression. You meet his gaze, suddenly unable to look away. 

The air feels charged as you stare. His eyes dip down to your mouth a single time, then back up to your eyes. The breeze moves strands of his hair and you smell the hint of clove followed by cinnamon, just as you always do when he’s near. Your heart starts to staccato as the silence presses on. 

A little shriek cuts through the tension like a knife. You flinch and turn around, looking at a red blur of movement burst from the wisteria trees. Tiera lands with a squawk, the fey dragon huffing as grey smoke curls from her lungs. She ignores you entirely as she normally does and skips over to where Yoongi is sitting before she settles next to him, curling like a cat and laying on her tail.

Yoongi laughs. “Hello, Tiera.” The dragon chuffs and lets out another puff of smoke. “Are you not going to say hello to our friend?” 

When the dragon pays no attention to you, you roll your eyes. “She hates me.”

“Dragons are capricious. She’s been with me for over a hundred years.”

“Not very mature then, is she?”

He chuckles again as you pluck cheese from the platter and pop it into your mouth. You’re delighted to find it’s soft and garlicky with a hint of rosemary as well. “She is still a child in dragon years.” 

“And you let her be a glutton.” 

“You could be too.” Your chewing slows and you swallow the cheese hard. You wait to see if he’s teasing you, but Yoongi watches you with a placid expression. “Dreams and desires are intertwined, you know. Desires come from dreams. It is in my nature to be indulgent.” 

“I’ve never really been indulgent in my life.”

“Do you want to be?”

“What?”

His mouth twitches. “Indulgent.”

“I think this is indulgent,” you gesture to the food. “And you’re teaching me to read and write. That is more indulgence than I could ever dream of.”

He hums and it sounds like disapproval. “I think your dreams are far more indulgent than that.” 

He knows. You think he’s going to say something, to ask about the way you dream of him. Instead, he says, “When you return, we’ll work on your indulgence. There is no shame in wanting things, you know?” 

“I don’t know. How could I?”

Light flashes above your head. You break eye contact with him to look up and gasp. The sky is full of shooting stars, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The world lights up as you see rainbows streaking across the sky, bursts of colors and explosions of brilliance shooting through the sky. 

Your mouth hangs open as you watch, mystified into silence. You’re sure this is what Yoongi meant when he said Chaos was passing by, for the sky becomes a cacophony of color and stars and light. You blink your eyes, stunned by the display. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, your heart hammering with excitement as you watch it, legs crossed, head tilted up.

The stars begin to slow and there are less bursts of color, until finally, there is just a shimmering wake of stardust and pink simmering in the sky. You look at Yoongi, utterly speechless, to find him looking at you. His eyes reflect the night sky, full of constellations and stardust, glittering in the dark depths of his irises. 

Yoongi’s eyes are as wonderful as the display above, but you don’t say that. 

“That was beautiful,” you breathe. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes don’t leave you when he hums softly in agreement. “It was.” 

Tiera shuffles next to Yoongi, drawing your attention. She snakes her long neck out, tongue tasting the air as she eyes the meat on the table. Yoongi hisses at her and taps her nose in chastisement, earning an angry croak as the dragon shuffles back to her napping position. 

The rest of your evening is spent snacking in companionable silence. Yoongi doesn’t talk much unless he’s answering your hundreds of questions, but tonight, you have none. You’re comfortable to just look at the world around you, the wisteria branches dancing in the breeze. 

In the distance, you hear thunder. Your eyes follow the sound to the same dark peak with lightning crackling through the mist. You’ve yet to ask Yoongi about that peak in particular, but you think you know what looms there. You remember Yoongi talking about how there are nightmares in this realm too, and you’re not eager to ask what that thunderous mountain holds. 

Yoongi doesn’t divulge, either. He watches you as you regard the peak and says nothing. Perhaps even the Eternal of dreams is hesitant to speak of that place, which is a good enough reason for you not to press him further on it. 

When your stomach is full and you’ve had another glass of wine, you lay back in the grass. Your limbs feel heavy with drink and your world is tilted on a slow-rotating axis. The buzz in your veins feels pleasant, though your thoughts are a little sticky like honey and they run together, untamed. 

Careful to keep his distance, Yoongi lays back in the grass with you. His face looks up at the sky, but you look at him. His features are so delicate and soft, nose and cheeks so round. His face don’t make sense in your head, so severe and terrifying yet gentle and innocent at the same time. 

“You’re staring,” he says eventually. 

“I’m indulging,” you tease back, loosened up by wine. “You said I can indulge, so let me stare.”

“What is there to indulge in?” 

“Your… earrings.” 

That makes him look at you, a brow quirked. “My earrings.”

“Yes. Very shiny. Very dangly.”

“Shiny and dangly?”

“Is there an echo out here?” you demand, frowning at him. “Yes, I am indulging in your jewelry!” 

“Would you like some earrings?”

“My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Well then we’ll pierce them.”

“Well,” you grump. “Don’t you have the answer for everything?”

He smiles then, that rare gummy smile that makes you shut right up. “I told you. I’m indulgent. Anything you want, all you need is to ask.” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite your lip to hide your smile at his words. It is insane to you that this ancient being is laying in the grass next to you telling you to only ask what you want. You don’t know what you want, but you do know that this feels like a dream. That you’re not really here, and that you’re going to wake up tomorrow and be in your bed at home. 

Dread fills you at the thought of going back to your parents. In a way, you want to see them. They’re your parents and there is… unfamiliarity without the sound of your mothers needle stitching through cloth. You could do without your father entirely. The rage inside of you when you picture his face is difficult to quell and is often followed by terror. 

Yoongi has told you that you will be safe when you return. You believe him. There is no reason not to. But more than anything, you’re terrified about what comes next. Living between two worlds is something you remember dreaming about that one day in the forest, looking at the way the world was reflected back on the mirror-calm surface of the water. 

Now that you have access to two worlds, you don’t know what to do with the other that has brought you nothing but suffering. And yet, you still want to see what is there. You’re not ready to leave it entirely without knowing. 

“Are you afraid to go back?” 

Yoongi’s question is soft. You don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.” 

“You won’t be alone. All you have to do is dream of me, and I will come.”

You hesitate then ask, “Do you know any time someone dreams of you?”

“It’s like hearing someone call my name, but I never answer. My business is in creating dreams, not invading them. People like you are able to spin up dreams on your own without my assistance. I help those who cannot.” 

“That sounds like a lovely job.”

He hums. “It’s not without its stresses. I talk a lot about the nature of dreams, but there is more to me and to my job than that. Perhaps we will leave that for your next visit, yes?”

You nod. “Okay.” 

“Come on,” Yoongi sighs, heaving himself upward. “It is late and in the morning, you must return.” 

-

“Touch me,” you beg him, straddling Yoongi’s lap. His head rests against the back of the couch and he looks up at you as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s softer than you imagined, sliding like silk between your fingers. “You told me to ask for what I wanted. Touch me.”

“Anything,” Yoongi agrees. His hands skim up your thighs, warm and rough. He squeezes your flesh, making you moan as his hands continue their worship. Yoongi grips your hips tightly, kneading your flesh as he pulls you closer to him. “Anything. Everything. For you.”

-

When you wake up, you’re confused. The roof above your head is wood and thatch. The mattress beneath you is thin and lumpy, sweat sticking the sheets to your legs. Rolling over, your vision blurs until it comes into focus once more, revealing a tiny room with just a bed, a wardrobe and a closed door. 

Your  room. Well, your room in your parents’ house, you realize with a panic. 

You shoot up in bed as terror claws at you. Did you dream it all? Was it not real? Nothing in your room has changed and the windows are open to the cool air. Grey clouds drift in the sky and you can smell the petrichor of oncoming rain in the distance. 

Rushing to your bedroom door, you rip it open, your heart threatening to burst with how hard it’s beating. You don’t know what you’re looking for or what you expect to find, but the idea that you have just woken up from the most vivid, wonderful dream is so maddening that you need anything to tell you it was real. That it wasn’t in your head.

Your mother is sitting at the kitchen table stitching. She looks up when she hears you. She looks different, leaner and narrower than you ever remember, her greasy hair tied low at her neck. Her hands pause their stitching as she stares at you, stricken. 

“What day is it?” you ask her. The day you had been attacked had been a seventh day. You remember that clearly. “Tell me what day it is!”

Instead, your mother screams in sheer terror. 

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word count: 10.2K

paring: Sero x fReader

warning(s): dirty talking, fingering(f! receiving), premature ejaculation, messy sex, semi-public sex (if ya squint) - you know the works here, pretty standard smut, nothing too crazy.

authors note: Happy Belated Birthday to me! Not only did the amazing Onyx give me this idea MONTHS ago about the dynamic between Sero and I, but this won the poll for what I was going to work on next - and though I went with Bakugou's story first (cause it was fresher in my mind) I have finally finished this! AND OH BOY, how self-indulgent I was with this one - I am not known for my dialog but couldn't help but put lots in here! That being said, I did try and keep this as generic as I could, just may not be AS generic, ya know? Anyway, I hope you all love this glorified tape dispenser as much as I do~🔮

Sero had always loved to draw, even when he was a little kid. What started as scribbles covering the walls of his home turned into small doodles - those that filled his notebooks more than his writing and school work turned into piles and piles of sketchbooks that were filled with intricate drawings and were stacked high within the confines of his room. 

He remembered being little, using washable markers to doodle fun patterns and designs on his arms and the arms of his friends, remembering how most recess breaks were filled with doing a doodle request for several fellow classmates. To being older, and having those same classmates come up to him to see if they could utilize his skills to make projects look nicer; to make epic banners for school events, or to make posters pop in his signature way. Even while he was in college, next to a prestigious art school that only accepted a handful of creatives a year, he had people beg him to create designs for tattoos they were wanting to get; willing to pay lots of money so they could forever have a drawing of his on their skin.

And that sparked something inside him. A passion to turn a hobby into a career.

It took years and years of effort, of schooling, of practicing, of littering his skin with designs both good and bad - and subsequently spending more time fixing his faults - and then shadowing those more experienced, to be taken into their shops and under their wings, so he may draw on the bodies of those that were hoping to decorate their skin. Not all patrons were ideal; some were not hygienic, and others moved too much and then complained of sloppy work, demanding a refund. And not all shop owners were pleasant to work for; many accepted clients even when they shouldn't, often dismissing those beneath them out of pride and a superiority complex, and always taking the side of those patrons trying to scam him and his time. But there were a few people that made it all worth it in the end, a few colleagues turned friends that made ‘sticking it out’ much more bearable.

And without all the bumps and hurdles, Sero would not have become as confident in his abilities and his worth, and he would not have had the chance to meet so many amazing people and artists - some of which had the same goal and ideas in mind as he did; who would follow him wherever he went. Before he even knew it, Hanta Sero finally achieved his goal, of making his childhood dream and hobby into a reality. He finally owned his tattoo parlor. 

He found a little shop within the city, perfect enough for him and a few friends to call their own, to create their own brand, and to make their own living; to finally call the shots and have complete creative control. The building itself was a little run down - something to be expected with the small price tag attached - but it was the ideal size for all of them and in the perfect location. So no one cared that it needed a few months of intense TLC to get the building up to code, it was more than worth the effort. And before anyone knew it the inspector came to claim the building was up to standards, giving the business license and the all-clear to start accepting patrons; it only took a few days before people heard the news.

When word got around that Sero and his business partners had finally opened their shop, to start accepting clients and creating art on their skin that they would enjoy for a lifetime, so many jumped on the chance to get an appointment with them - Sero especially. Some were people he had known for years, eagerly awaiting another drawing of ink, and some were those that saw his work on the many social pages advertising the business that wanted to add another to their growing collections. Whatever the case was, once he turned on the neon ‘open’ sign on the day of opening, he and his friends were booked for months in advance.

And the cherry on top of all of this? Another wonderful addition to the streams of success he was facing, was the bookstore that sat just across the street from him. 

Not because he was into books, though he did read from time to time and enjoyed it when he did, but because of the owner that bookshop had. At first, he couldn’t be sure you were the owner, but day in and day out he watched you show up at opening and leave at closing, and unless you were an incredibly dedicated employee, it was an easy assumption to make. And Sero couldn’t deny that he thought you were pretty when he first caught sight of you through his window after closing on his first day; and he couldn’t deny that he would wait with anticipation when you closed your shop and would begin making your way home, just so he could get a glimpse of your cute face.

He wished he had the free time to go and speak to you, to see you up close and hear your voice (which he could just tell was adorable and sweet), but his clientele made it nearly impossible for him to get the chance. By the time the last client would leave, your shop would already be closed, and for some time, with you nowhere in sight. There were just simply not enough hours in the day for him to spare to meet you; as well he was terrified of canceling an appointment or rejecting a client so early on in all of this, afraid that one bad comment could ruin the shop and cause it to sink.

But Sero always made the best of any situation, that was part of his charm. He figured that if he didn’t have the time to go in and speak to you, to properly act on his little crush, he would let you know who he was and his existence through different means. 

Romantic gestures that could be seen as small and friendly - those that wouldn’t scare you off or have you become afraid. He started by sending you flowers; a small bouquet to help liven your shop if you wanted; which you did if the vase by your check-out counter was any indication. Next were chocolates, all bundled in pretty wrapping paper for you to carefully tear away. Then balloons, attached to a small gift basket with quality skincare items that could be found at his shop with his business card nustled amongst the jars and tins to ensure that you knew who sent them and that it was from the new neighbor across the street - not some strange admirer. 

He could tell that you liked them, given the delight that bloomed on your face whenever you received them - the bright smile as you brought those flowers to your nose to inhale their earthy scent, or when you eagerly started to open up some of the chocolates to enjoy, or when you carefully inspected each tin of cream; placing a small dollop on the back of your hand before putting them aside and back to your work. Sero especially knew you liked them when, a week later, you sent a gift basket back to him filled with artisan treats from the local farmers market; with a card welcoming the new store to the neighborhood.

After a while of staring hopelessly at you, to the point where all his friends were relentlessly teasing him, Sero finally made the decision to meet you properly; to make his way over to your shop to say hello. 

“And it has nothing to do with Kaminari!” he exclaimed at Kirishima and Mina, ensuring they could hear him over the snickering, as he grabbed his jacket to sling over his shoulders.

“Sure, whatever you say, big guy~” Mina sang as waved goodbye with a wink, clearly not buying it - especially as Kaminari just got back from your shop, book in hand that you recommended.

Sero shook his head, out of frustration at Mina’s words knowing that she called his bluff, as he slammed the door shut behind him and briskly walked across the street; breathing a sigh of relief, one that made the tension in his shoulder slack, when he stepped foot into your shop. It was everything he thought a bookstore should be; it was cozy and warm, the kind that would make anyone instantly at ease and would spend hours just curled up to read; which he assumed the patron he walk passed had been doing all day.

“Welcome! Can I help you?” A voice sang through the air, causing his head to turn to face a young woman - sadly not you - wearing an apron with the store's logo on it.

“Uh, not sure.” Sero smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment, and as a polite hello, before gazing around.

“First time here?” She inquired, moving behind a nearby counter to grab a stack of books.

“Yeah, pretty obvious huh?”

“A little, many have the look on their face when they first come in. It’s a little overwhelming at times, the place is a bit bigger than they assume.”

“You could say that again…” Sero could hear her airy giggle, watching in the corner of her eye as she began to sort through the titles.

“I can give you the run down if you like?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem at all, sir.” She smiled, pausing her task to free her hands for gesturing with her explanation  “This place is a lot like a library, people can come and go as they please, staying all day if they want to, without the pressure of needing to buy something. They can also borrow books for a small fee if they want, to ensure they don’t waste their money on a bad book, or they can obviously purchase them if they want.”

“A safe haven for those that love books, huh?” Sero chimed with a smile, taking another glance at all the sitting areas close to him - the plush pillows and fireplace inviting for those that would want to curl up.

“Pretty much, that was the idea” The employee agreed, already starting to sort again “Have a look and take all the time you need.”

Sero left her with a ‘thank you’ and another nod before venturing further into the store - taking stock of what sections of books there were and all the small cozy nooks for people to curl up in; taking his time to explore the entirety of the shop before leaving. “For research purposes, in case I wanna go back” he would mumble to himself, ready to defend his actions from his teasing friends upon his return. It was for those reasons, and those alone, not at all because he was trying to find you.

He finally did come across you, after what seemed like hours of searching, hidden away within the Historical Fiction sections tucked near the back walls, shelving some books that were stacked within your arms and reorganizing the ones that had been misplaced. To say Sero was smitten with you would have been an understatement before, but now? Seeing you so close? Smitten would not even begin to compare to how love-struck he was; one so strong it struck him dumb and left him unable to do anything but look at you.

“Sir?” 

Sero couldn’t tell if he was lucky or not to have your voice call out to him; luck that it broke him out of the stupor he was in, unlucky that he was unable to say or do anything more than gaze up at you with his mouth agape.

“Do… do you need help with anything?” Your sweet voice called out to him again, though clearly confused, and it made Sero look away to try and gain his thoughts once more.

“A-art book.” He cleared his throat, cheeks turning hot and red as his eyes did their best to look anywhere but you “Looking for one of those.”

“Well, which one?” You smiled, biting your lip to hide it as you gently placed the books you were holding down.

“Art, The Definitive Visual Guide” Sero blurted, voice sounding rushed as he named the first art book he bought when in college; watching as your brows furrowed as you took a moment to process what he said.

“By Dixon?” 

“Y-yes!” Sero exclaimed, eyes brightening and heart swelling with pride when you giggled over his excitement.

“Well, that would be in our art section, which would be…” You began to lean forward, carefully perching yourself on your ladder to see past the bookshelf currently in your way “Ah! Just over there!”

“O-over there?” Sero nodded, trying his best to not be affected by the smell of your shampoo as it lingered in the air as you moved to stand upright again “T-that’s perfect thank you!”

“Oh, no worries at all! You just let me know if you can’t find it okay?” You smiled, already picking your books back up.

Sero smiled back, giving a wave goodbye, before almost scurrying away; head hanging in defeat once he knew you were out of sight. A small part of him hoped he couldn’t find the book so he could talk to you again, but he knew that would be a mistake - especially as the spine of the book stared right back at him when he first began looking in the section you sent him to. Begrudgingly he accepted his fate, bringing the book up to the front cash and paying the borrowing fee to the employee he met earlier.

He came back to the parlor feeling like a complete idiot over messing up his first proper encounter with you, not doing at all what he planned to do - not being the effortlessly charming and fun guy he knew he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep stopping by. 

After all, he had to return the book he borrowed.

~

Sero waited a week, in his mind if he went back the next day it would cause him more harm than good; would lead to you asking him way more questions than he would want about the book itself - and well, he already made a fool of himself once. Besides, the week-long buffer would allow him the chance to clear his head and come up with a game plan, so he could be properly prepared himself to see you again.

Because this time he wanted to start an actual conversation with you, one where he could learn about who you were, why you opened this store and everything in between that led to this moment in time. He wanted to know if his crush on you was justified, or if he should just cut his losses now before he was in too deep. But to be fair, based on what all his friends have said, he already was; even so, he couldn’t hold onto that book forever.

Regardless of what the outcome may be, he had to see you again; even if it meant rescheduling a client for a Sunday to make up the lost time, he just had to get to you and your store before closing.

And it was the perfect time to go he found. The store was almost completely empty, with seemingly no one else in the building but you as you began your usual routine for closing - so dutifully organizing stacks of papers and placing books that needed to be returned into a neat little pile; he almost felt bad for clearing his throat and breaking you out of your stride.

“H-hi!” You exclaimed, your body jolting in surprise when you regarded him, clearly not used to anyone being here so late “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner, I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No you’re fine, I just walked in,” Sero reassured, taking a step closer to your counter.

“Oh, are you here to return that art book? The one by Dixon?” You asked, back straightening as you smiled up at him. “I hope you liked it!”

“I did, it was a great read.” Sero mirrored your smile as he handed the book back over to you, enjoying the way your smaller hand brushed against his briefly “Though I was wondering if you could me find a similar book?”

“Sure, of course! Do you want a recommendation or are you looking for a specific title?”

“Uh, Creatives on Creativity is what I am looking for,” Sero said, breathing a mental sigh of relief over remembering the title - one he only heard of a day prior when searching for art books to ask you about.

“Creatives on Creativity…” You mumbled, turning to your computer to check if you had the title in stock - the sound of a keyboard clacking could be heard, filling the silent space briefly “By Steve Brouwers?”

“Yup! That’s the one” Sero confirmed with a nod, perfectly hiding the fact he was completely unsure as he watched you round the counter of the counter with a wave.

“Yeah, we should have a few in stock if you would follow me!”

You took him back to the Art Section, your stride confident as you weaved your way through bookcases and magazine towers, as you began locating the book in question; trying to remember where exactly you cataloged it - whether it was with the Art Help books or the Art Education ones.

Sero followed behind you, keeping his stride to a more casual pace to avoid possibly stepping on your heels, as he regarded your profile; enjoying the concentrated gazes, those mixed with slight perplexity, as you looked from shelf to shelf trying to help him out. Never before was he grateful, and possibly will never be again, about having trouble trying to find a book.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally spoke, watching as you began to stand on a small stool to look at a higher shelf, figuring his time was running out.

“Uh, sure?” You muttered, voice soft as you continued on your hunt. “Go ahead”

“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but I’m curious as to what a bookshop owner's favourite book is?” 

“Oh! Wow, that’s a great question!” You said, finally sparing him a brief glance with a smile “And one that’s kinda tough to answer. I love books from all genres for different reasons, so to compare one that’s horror to one that’s fantasy is a little difficult to do.”

“Well, what are you enjoying right now?” Sero asked, body leaning against the bookshelf so he could continue gazing up at you.

“Uhh, wow what am I reading right now?” You chuckled nervously as your mind began to race, feeling your cheeks heat up as you heard him do so as well “Let's see… probably The Historian, it’s a thriller mystery kinda deal - involves vampires and stuff - it’s proving to be quite fun” 

“Vampires?”

“Yeah… it’s historical fiction. It blurs the lines of what happened with whatever our imaginations can think of with the folklore of Vlad Țepeș and Dracula. Partly why I like it I guess…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sero hummed, watching as you scanned the titles before you, almost as if you were counting each one for inventory later “Take it that’s why you opened this place? Fell in love with reading books from far and wide?”

“Something like that” You agreed with a shrug of your shoulders “Wanted to be a librarian, always thought they had a great gig going on, and one thing led to another and, well, here we are.”

As you spoke your deft fingers delicately pulled the book you both were looking for from its place in the self, where it was hiding. Once you secured it in your grip, you slowly descended from your stool handing the book out to him once your feet were securely on the ground.

“And here you are.” You smiled, watching as he stood upright and uncrossed his arms.

“Thanks, for finding this for me” He gingerly took the book from you and tucked it under his arm, smiling wider at your cheery response back; following you obediently back up to the cash to once again pay the borrowing fee.

“Hey, if you don’t mind…” Sero began, fingers tapping nervously against the wood of the countertop “I have one more question to ask ya.”

“Sure, go ahead!” You giggled, amused by his polite curiosity as you began the transaction of payment.

“Would you want to go for some coffee sometime?”

His question made your fingers fumble on the touchpad, causing an error screen to pop up and for you to almost frantically try to fix, and you nervously cleared your throat; face going hot in surprise and embarrassment over your stumbled, and failed, answer back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or make you uncomfortable” Sero tried to soothe, hands raising up and away from the bubble around you to prove he meant no harm “Just think you’re cute and would like to treat you to some coffee, that’s all.”

“W-well, that’s um, very sweet of you, I just um…” You floundered, doing your best to finish quickly so you could hide away from him - to shield him from witnessing your embarrassment further “Just don’t think that would be a good idea?”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Y-you know, we’re strangers! We only met a few days ago and all….”

“Actually we’re neighbors, good ones at that if our gift exchange was anything to go by.” Sero clarified, watching as the realization of who he was crossed your face, his hands lowered to shove themselves in his jacket pockets before shrugging his shoulders “But hey, not gonna pressure you or anything. If you don’t want to that’s cool, I won’t pressure you!”

“I’m flattered, believe me, just….” You countered a sheepish look on your face as you passed the book back his way for him to take “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure thing, thank you again,” Sero said, giving you one last small smile before taking his book and leaving; wishing you a good night as he walked past the threshold of your store with a wave.

A few things were certain that night; the first being that you were worth having a crush on, and he would love the chance to treat you right. And second, you were not used to the straightforward approach, and if he didn’t want to screw anything up, he would have to be patient and go about things slowly.

But Sero Hanta was up for any challenge, and you were more than worth the wait.

~

After that night, Sero found himself stopping by your shop a few times a week; to return a new book he borrowed (and spent the night before diligently reading), and to further chat with you. The conversations were always led by a question or two before it sparked into something beautiful - he loved the way you would ramble, talking with your hands, as you explained something, how passionate you got over the things you loved, and how blessed he found himself when you tried to tell a story from when you were younger but couldn’t over your laughter of remembering it all.

And after each night, when the conversation had reached its end and the book he had paid for was tucked snugly under his arm, he would, without fail, ask you out on a date as he was leaving your shop; in love with the smile and the amused shake of your head when you bid him a simple goodnight, to - “try again some other time” - before shutting the door behind him and switching you sign to closed.

Slowly but surely you were coming out of your shell, becoming more than eager to spend the last hour in his company; you didn’t realize it right away, but soon you found yourself noticing how excited you got when you would greet him. Or how you would try and keep the conversation going just a little bit longer as you walked to the cash, not wanting the night to end so soon. And how you would linger close to him before closing the door and saying good night. He was fun company, some of the best you ever had, and you couldn’t deny that you were starting to catch feelings for him too; to slowly become as enamored as he was.

Sero noticed this little factor as well, after a couple of months of visiting, when it was you who ask him a question; as you gingerly took hold of his arm to get a better look at the intricate tattoo that was perfectly placed on his forearm after handing him his recently purchased item.

“Did you do this yourself?” You whispered, almost in awe, as your fingertips barely brushed over the details of the design.

“Yeah,” Sero breathed out, quite taken aback by your bold action - though nowhere near complaining. “Took a while, but I think it turned out great.”

“Did you design it too?”

“Mm-hmm, designed all the tattoos on my body.” His eyes shifted their gaze from his arm to your face, “Wanted to work on my skin first before anyone else’s, just in case I wasn’t good at it.”

“I think it’s safe to say that you are, it’s beautiful work.”

“Do you have one?” 

“N-no…” You broke your gaze away, taking a step back from him - completely aware of how close and possibly inappropriate you were behaving.

“You want one?” Sero inquired with a clear of his throat; wanting nothing more than to move closer to you again, to gain that moment of intimacy once more, but knew he couldn’t

“Well yeah,” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, “But I just never really know what to get, and I don’t wanna regret getting something cause it’ll be on my skin forever, you know?”

“I can design something for you if you want?” 

“You would?”

“Obviously, wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to!” He smiled, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a marker from your countertop “Just tell me some things that you like, and I’ll come up with something! See, I already know you like owls, and foxes, and of course historical fiction and fantasy books…”

“Sero, listen this is really sweet! I am honored you would do this for me and all but….” You began, cutting him off from his parade of knowledge of all things you loved - heart swelling almost uncomfortably with the attention - “But really, you don't have to do this for me.”

“You kidding, I would love to! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have done this for a living; hard to make a career out of something you hate!”

“Yeah, clearly, I obviously get it. But even so, you’re booked for months! You got plenty of other clients that need your attention and designs a lot more than I do.”

“Oh ho~ How do you know I’m booked for months?” Sero teased, enjoying how you looked away in fake annoyance as your shoulders raised in embarrassment “Even if I was, which you’re so cutely right that I am, I would reserve a spot for you regardless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it can be after hours too, if you wanted.” Sero offered, with a shrug “Ya know if that would help put your nerves at ease; less people and all that stuff. And it could help make you feel better about accepting my offer~ I wouldn’t have to cancel on a client if you did.”

You sighed, shoulder slumping as you weighed his very tempting offer. You had been wanting a tattoo, ever since the new parlor opened across the street; and especially so every time you looked in Sero’s direction - the ink that was littered across his skin was beautiful - now here was the most perfect opportunity to finally get one and to get some more alone time with the artist himself; you knew you would regret it every day if you said no; despite your nerves telling you otherwise.

Squaring your shoulders you finally looked back at him, giving him a nod of approval over his proposition.

“Yes!” His fists thumped the counter as he proclaimed his excitement over your acceptance “I promise you won’t regret it! I’ll start working on the designs tonight and will have them done A-S-A-P!”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at his childish behavior “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh! One more thing!” He passed the marker over to you, his palm slayed out as if acting as a canvas “I’ll need your number so I can both let you know when the design is done and so I can book you in for your appointment.”

“Okay, well then hand me the paper you were just scribbling on” You pointed and the scrap paper, brows furrowing when you watched him shake his head ‘no”. 

“No can do babe, it’s covered with stuff already. Just write it on my hand”

“Sero, this is a permanent marker, I’m not going to do that!”

“I think I’m more than comfortable with permanent ink on my skin,” Sero winked, moving his palm closer to you “It’ll come off in a few days, but hey, if you don’t want me to leave you could just say so~”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes again, hating that he was right and you were wasting time yet again to have him stay longer. You acquiesced, taking hold of his hand to keep it steady as you carefully wrote your number, being sure it was as clear as possible to avoid any confusion or mishaps that could be caused if you didn’t.

You watched as Sero left, head held high and chest filled with puffed-up pride as he sauntered back to the parlor; clearly happy with himself at winning you over and gaining your number.

~

It only took four days before you got the message from Sero; stating, with plenty of exclamation marks, about how your design was done and to stop by at any time to come and review the sketches - he was more than happy to squeeze you in at a time that worked best for you; whether that be between a client or after-hours.

And well, the thought of coming after hours was tempting, your confidence in quelling those nerves that swam in your stomach wasn’t strong enough yet; you were already pushing your limits when it came to the tattoo appointment. But the thought of you extending your lunch break by a few minutes seemed like a good idea.

The sign said ‘Closed for Lunch’ when you finally made your way across the street, and though Sero was insistent that you could come in regardless, you were still a little hesitant; standing by the door debating whether to knock or just walk in.

The decision was made for you when a woman with beautiful soft pink hair opened the door, startling you out of your thoughts as she asked if she could help you with anything.

“I-i’m just here to review some sketches…” You mumbled, hands playing nervously with your phone that still had the messages from Sero open “But I can come back if you’re closed!”

“It’s with Sero right?” She inquired, golden eyes squinting at you as they scanned you from head to toe; 

“Yeah..” You nodded your head, trying your best not to shift your body in reaction to her gaze.

“Oh my gosh! So it’s you! The librarian across the street!” She squealed, wasting no time in taking your arm and pulling you into the shop  “I’ve heard so much about you! Just been dying to meet you! I’m Mina, one of the artists here.”

“Bookstore owner….” You mumbled, casting a shy smile her way as you gave her your name “Heard about you as well, it’s really nice to meet you too”

“Right, bookstore owner, sorry about that!” Mina waved in apology, taking a step back to appraise you once more “and I gotta say, super jealous of Sero that he snagged you as his client; you’re a total babe! Like, that outfit is to die for! Where’s you get it?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face at her statement, her brazen compliment both flattered and embarrassed you as you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ as you gazed down at what you were wearing.

“And oh my god, your nails!” She exclaimed again, taking hold of your hand to inspect closely inspect your delicately painted fingernails “These are so pretty! Where’d you get them done?”

“Uh, the spa a few blocks down the road” You answered with a breathless laugh at her enthusiasm “They always do a good job.”

“I can tell! I’ve always wanted to check them out, but was a little unsure, but now I’m definitely gonna go as soon as I can!” She squealed, squeezing your hand in delight “Oh, but you’re not here for me, which is a total bummer. Sero’s station is just back here, I’ll let him know you’re here!”

You gave her your thanks, appreciating her help and unknowingly helping you become more at ease, as she led you to Sero’s area; leaving you with a wave and a promise he’ll join you in a few minutes. 

His area was quite spacious, possibly the largest out of the others you passed, and the furthest from the front door. His chair and equipment sat near the center of it all, just slightly off to the left for others to pass by, and looked clean and organized as you peered around the room. He had a work table as well, pressed up against the wall, with a book of design and sketches.

If you were braver you would have opened it and gone through the slightly worn pages to see what they contained. But instead, you opted to scan the wall before you, taking in the fun, wild, and beautiful designs that were taped to them; staring in awe at just how beautiful they all were. Masterpieces in black and coloured ink, ones you were sure some lucky people got to wear proudly on their skin.

Or perhaps they were littered on his…

Sadly, you couldn’t allow your mind the chance to wander to such thoughts, to wonder just how much of his body was covered in ink and how low some tattoos would travel, before you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Admiring the wall?” He greeted, his smile as bright and friendly as always when he greeted you

“Yeah, the designs are beautiful” You glanced back at him with a smile “But I think you already knew that.”

“What can I say, just like hearing people sing my praises!” He joked with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders before walking up to you “But we’re not here to talk about these, eh?”

You watched as he gently, smoothly, pulled open a large drawer at the table you were currently standing at, one you didn’t realize was there given the sleek design. Carefully he pulled out a tiny stack of papers, laying them out before you to inspect and admire, as his arm kept him leaning over the table, and more importantly, you.

You tried your best not to be affected by his voice, how his breath tickled your ear, as he spoke about the direction he went with the designs. Some larger, more detailed as they encompassed all the things you loved - like the barn owl sounded by flora and books before a full moon - and some that were smaller, simply beholden of a single item you loved, like a sitting fox amongst fall leaves; and where on your body each tattoo would be placed.

He left a pause when he was done speaking, allowing you the chance to mill over what he said; to further inspect his designs, and to take your time in picking out what you wanted most; unable to help himself from staring at you, eyes half-lidded, as you bit your lip in concentration.

“I like the fox,” you finally whispered, pulling the sketch closer to you to admire it further, already imagining where it will sit on your arm.

“Yeah?” was all Sero could breathe out as he leaned in closer to you

“Mm-hmm” You nodded, finally turning your head to face him; watching as his eyes gazed at your lips, causing you to do the same “...h-how much will it be?”

You could feel your breath catching in your throat as Sero ignored your question, instead taking the opportunity to lean his face closer to yours; feeling his breath gently fan against your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation; wanting nothing more than to feel what his kiss would be like.

“Sero, delivery is here!”

A gruff voice is what made you turn your head away; face scrunching in frustration over the unwanted interruption. You heard him sigh; feeling cold and a little disappointed when you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“Yeah… I’ll be right there Bakugou…” Sero spoke firmly, trying his best to keep his voice from sounding frustrated and annoyed as he looked back at his friend “Just finishing up here.”

Sero took another deep breath, one that turned into a loud sigh, over the now-ruined moment as he pulled the fox design from the pile of paper; taking a step away from you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.” He gave a pained smile, slowly backing his way towards the backrooms, to where Bakugou was waiting “Just pick a day with Mina and we’ll go from there, ‘kay?”

You simply nodded your head, giving him a small smile and wave as you watched him disappear; taking the time to finally release the air you were holding as you clenched your fist in anger over your ruined kiss; at how perfect Bakugou’s timing was in all of it.

But after a moment, you couldn’t help but laugh; shaking your head in amusement as slowly made your way back to the front desk to book your appointment; knowing you had to get back to work soon and relieve your assistant.

~

It wasn’t long before the day of your tattoo arrived; the Saturday you booked it for came faster than anticipated, though the entire day felt like a year as you kept glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed, only to groan to yourself when it showed a mere 10-minutes.

Cataloging books did help with your dilemma, taking your mind off the many hours between you and seeing Sero again, as you continuously went up and down your little ladder to put the many returned books away. And before long, it was 9:00 pm, and you could flip your sign to ‘Closed’ and make your way across the street. 

You were surprised, given that the parlor was supposedly closed - or at the very least seeing their last clients at that point of the night - to see all the artists by the front desk chatting away; almost as if they were waiting for you to arrive.

“There you are!” Mina exclaimed, making her way from behind the desk over to where you stood, taking your jacket, and hanging it up for you “Thought you got cold feet on us!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that” You smiled, allowing her to complete her courteous gesture “And if I did cancel I would make sure you knew.”

“Are you excited!? First tattoos are always the most fun!”

“I am! Been looking forward to this all week!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you have~” Mina winked, “Now, let me introduce you to the other artist! Well, we’re all friends here but ya know.” She guided you over to where the three men stood, pointing first to a blonde with an unamused expression “You already met Bakugou last time you were here, I think you met Kaminari when he was at your store a few weeks back. And that giant redhead is Kirishima - he looks more scary than he is!”

 “It’s really nice to meet you!” Kirishima smiled, nudging Bakugou to acknowledge your presence - which he did in the form of a nod - before extending his hand out to you to shake “Heard a lot about you, been meaning to stop by your store for a while now. Apparently, you give good recommendations!”

“Oh, I do?” You asked, gingerly shaking his hand with a confused expression

“Of course you do, babe! Why else would Sero keep bugging you~” Kaminari jumped in, winking as he took your hand in his own and squeezed it “Nice to see you in our neck of the woods finally.”

“Okay okay! That’s enough, you guys!” Sero finally emerged, walking his way in between the group to disperse them; pulling Kaminari away from you to force him to let go of your hand “You should all be getting ready to leave, as you said you would!”

“Oh come on man! We just wanted to say hi to her!” Kaminari whined as he, and the rest of the group, were huddled towards to back of the place while you stood in place, fighting off a wave of giggles that were threatening to overcome you over the whole scene.

After a moment Sero returned, smoothing out his shirt as he tries his best to act as nonchalantly as possible; an act you could see right through given the blush that was dusting his cheeks but decided not to comment on.

“Sorry about all that, you ready to get started?” He asked, hand running through his hair nervously.

You hum in agreement, head nodding as you let him guide you back to his station; once there he motioned for you to get comfortable on the plush leather chair as he got his equipment ready.

 “Your friends are really nice,” You commented, tugging up the sleeve of your shirt for ease of access.

“Yeah, they are” Sero admitted, chuckling to himself “Pains in the ass half the time, but they mean well”

“Well, that’s how you know they love you” You chimed, sitting more upright as you watched him press an alcohol swab against your skin for a moment

“Guess you’re right.” He shrugged, holding up the stencil of your tattoo next to your arm “You want the tattoo here or a little lower?”

“No, there looks good! After all, you are the expert” You smiled, allowing him to press the paper against your skin; feeling him pressing down on it, before removing it to showcase the temporary art that was to forever be marked on your skin.

“Yeah that looks good,” He murmured, taking his tattoo machine in hand and dipping it in ink “Now, you let me know if this hurts, or becomes too unbearable okay?”

“Okay..” You bit your lip and nodded your head as you stared at the machine.

“Don’t worry, on arms you normally can’t feel anything” Sero reassured “ and I’ve got a steady hand which helps. All this just looks more scary than it is.”

“Like Kirishima”

“Yeah!” He laughed, shaking his head at your silly, but accurate, comment “Just like Kiri. Now, take a deep breath for me, kay?”

You nodded and did as you were told, taking a deep breath as his machine whirled to life; you watched with bated breath as it approached your skin, letting out a large sigh of relief when it finally touched you and no pain could be felt.

“See? Not so bad, yeah?” Sero smiled, slowly beginning to outline his design.

“Yeah…”

You didn’t converse much after that, not because you didn’t want to, but rather because you were blown away by Sero’s skills and concentration. You had never seen this side of him before. Normally he was goofy, animated, and fun, which you thought was endearing and cute; gave him his boyish charm. But now? As you watched his brows furrow and eyes look at you with such steely focus, you couldn’t help but find him extremely attractive. Choosing not to break the silence in fear of breaking his concentration, and thus this newfound allure, or embarrassing yourself.

Though he did make it difficult.

Throughout the entire session, every time he needed to shade something or thicken a line, he would always praise you after; claiming you were doing ‘such a good job’ for pushing through it; or for being called a ‘good girl’ when you took a needed deep breath at the right moment in time.

He said it so often that you can’t tell if he’s being reassuring or doing it to get a rise out of you; to tease you to see you get all hot and bothered.

Whatever the case was, it was affecting you way more than it should have; lighting a small fire deep within your core as you tried to rub your thighs together without him noticing to relieve some of the newfound pressure, as you suppressed all the small squeaks your wanted body wanted to let out every time another praise left his mouth.

It was agonizing torture in the best possible way; and when the session was finally done, when he was gently placing cellophane wrap over your fresh tattoo, you weren’t sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that it was all over.

“How much…” You gently cleared your throat, voice a little raspy over underuse “How much do I owe you again?”

“I already told you, babe,” Sero chuckled, carefully putting away his equipment “It’s on the house, my treat for you allowing me to borrow all those books.”

“You paid for those, Sero” You shot back, legs moving over the side of the chair as you leaned closer to him; showcasing your cleavage further from the lowcut hem of your shirt “I can’t just let you give me something like this for free - it’s not fair.”

“I told you, I like doing this.” He shrugged, ignoring you and your subsequent subtle attempts of seduction “More than happy to do this for you, think of it as a first-timer bonus!”

“There must be some way I can pay you back”

It was your tone that made Sero’s back straighten, clearing his throat he carefully placed what was in his hand down to turn and face you - breathing ceasing when he saw you sitting so pretty for him; the dark look in your eye making this cock twitch to life in his pants.

Sero couldn’t help it when his tongue poked out to lick his lips, unable to stop his eyes from trailing over your figure sitting before him; his own legs spreading further apart as he shifted a little closer to you; making you bite your lip. 

“How about finally going on that date with me?” He offered, hands twitching in his lap as he tried his best to restrain himself from touching you without permission.

“Payments happen immediately after a service…it wouldn’t be right paying you back days later, especially after you did such an amazing job” You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head up; brushing your nose against his “I prefer to pay you back now, kay?”

“Kay…” Sero barely even had the chance to whisper the word out before your lips pressed firmly into his; hands fisting into his shirt to keep him from pulling away.

As if Sero even wanted to move away, his own hands reaching out to pull you closer to him; closing any inch of space between him and your soft body. His hand cupped your face to deepen the long-awaited kiss that he dreamed about for weeks, as he slotted between your legs, groping and pinching the meat of your thigh as he hiked your leg up to wrap around his waist as he placed more of his weight onto you; groaning into your open when your clothed cunt brushed against his hardening length.

Your sweet, breathless, mewls were addicting and it made his mind dizzy with lust as his lips descended down your jaw and onto your neck; licking and sucking on the sensitive skin you so graciously barred to him, biting down on your pulse to hear you cry out his name into the heated air as he continued to grind his hips against yours.

His kisses continued downwards to your chest, pulling your shirt down - not bothering or wanting to take a mere moment to part from you to properly rid yourself of the article of clothing - before his lips began to suckle at the plump flesh his found; moaning into the heated flesh as he relished the way your hand began to tangle and tug at his hair.

It was all so much, and yet not enough for you; the fire that slowly emerged in your core was raging for me, not being fully satisfied with his sweet kisses or the grind of his hips. You needed more, been craving for more for hours, and you were starting to get a little impatient as you guided the hand pinching and stroking your thigh up to your core.

“Sero, please, touch me more,” You sighed out, legs widening to give him better access as held his hand against the damp cotton of your panties

“Hanta,” He corrected you, wringing his hand from your grasp to slowly stroke his knuckle up and down your slit “call me that, and I’ll do what you want, you needly little thing.”

“Hanta, please? Want you…” You whined, arching your back in an attempt to get more friction; unable to keep the smile off your face when you heard him groaning; clearly loving the way his name sounded off your needy tongue.

“That’s a good girl, hips up” He gently coaxed your lower half off the chair to pull your panties down your leg; pocketing them for later, before slowly guiding your legs to spead even wider for him “Already so wet after a few kisses, hm?” 

You looked away, face buried into his neck, the heat burning your cheeks in embarrassment over his teasing, as you nodded your head - unable to muster the courage to say the truth - as your heart fluttered over his rumbling chuckle.

“Aw, are we shy now?” He teased even more, deft fingers spreading your lower lips apart to gently stroke at your hardened clit “You weren’t shy a second ago when you asked me to play with this pretty pussy, want me to stop?”

He felt you shake your head, a sweet little whine accompanying the motion, as you continued to cling to him; your warm breath, coming out in pants, next to his ear made him slow his pace to one that could barely be considered movement.

“I dunno, it sure seems like you do” 

“N-no!” You mumbled, gripping his shirt tighter; biting your lip to suppress another whine threatening to escape. “Please don’t stop..”

“Then let me see that pretty face, hm,” He asked, tone still mirthful as he watched you slowly come out of your hiding spot “There you are, look at you, huh? All cute and flustered, you like what I’m doing that much?”

You nodded your head, once more, voice squeaking out a ‘yes’ as you felt his fingers resume a faster pace - swirling your bundle of nerves before slipping into your wet heat; your own hand coming down to grasp his forearm over the sudden intensity.

“That feels good, baby? You like my fingers?” Sero hummed, lips grazing your ear as he leaned closer to you, gazing down to watch his fingers go in and out of your drenched hole.

“God yes, Hanta!” You couldn’t help but cry out, throwing your head back, as you felt his fingers curl; stroking that sweet spot within your gummy walls that you made you see stars.

“Yeah you do,” He groaned, feeling your slick drip down his wrist as he repeated the motion “you wanted this, didn’t you? That’s why you wore that cute little skirt, huh?”

Sero watched you nod your head, though the blissed-out look on your face made him question if you even heard what he said as your hips began to wiggle, legs shaking as you neared your release.

“Can feel you twitching around my fingers, pretty girl, you gonna cum for me?” He asked, as his free hand pushed down your squirming hips “Hey, hey, don’t whine! I’ll give you what you want, promise”

His swollen lips brushed against your collarbone, a subtle gesture to prove he meant what he said - that he wasn’t going to tease you or stop you from going over the edge; his thumb twisting up to rub at your clit to help ease you over the edge you were climbing.

“That’s it, cum for me, god you sound so pretty, keep twitching for me.” He groaned, fingers working frantically as your cries grew higher in pitch.

Everything went white for a moment, an end to the mounting pleasure he was giving you, the world was forgotten for a brief moment as you succumbed to the pleasure; your back arched almost painfully as your legs clamped around his wrist; your entire form shaking from the intensity as eyes rolled back into your skull. The only thing that kept you in the realm was his deep voice cooing down at you as you felt your juices run down your thighs and stick to the surface of his leather chair.

“There she is…” He mumbled, lips kissing all over your face and chest to slowly help ease you back down “Slowly, that’s it, you did so good for me…”

“Hanta, s’too much!” You whined, bucking your hips away from his still-moving fingers; ones that were still slowly stroking your soaking cunt; hissing when he finally took them out.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, hands returning to stroke your thighs and hips as he gazed down at you “You certainly know how to stroke a man’s ego, huh? Never had a girl do that from my touch.”

You groaned one that turned into a giggle, as your hands came up to your face to hide from another wave of heated embarrassment “Well, to be fair, never had a guy touch me like that. Can’t blame a girl for enjoying it!”

“No I can’t, glad you liked it so much, baby” He murmured, pulling your hands from your face to kiss you once more, murmuring sweet nothing to you between each small kiss as his hands wandered again, up and down your body, smiling into the kiss when he felt your hands do the same.

“A-ah!” Sero moaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking to your small hand that started to stroke at the large bulge in his pants; another one choking out, ending in a whimper, when you applied more pressure.

“Can I return the favour?” You asked, voice sounding so saccharine and confident that it made his head spin at the total 180 you just pulled with your demeanor.

“N-no,” He whimpered out, hand grasping at your wrist - just as yours did before - to stop you from continuing your sinful motions.

“Why not?” You whined, the pout you gave almost made him regret his choice, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“I know you do, but I won’t be able to last long if you keep that up” He reasoned, clasping your hands in his to bring them away from his twitching, aching cock.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“God, you’re too much…” He mumbled, head shaking in amusement as he cleared his throat, trying his best not to let you get the best of him as he watched you squirm.

Your pout was still prevalent on your swollen lips as you gazed up at him, calling out to him once more in that saccharine sweet voice “But I wanna make you cum.”

Sero couldn’t help but groan again, head turning away from you as he thought of anything else at that moment - things that made him cringe in his past - to try and stop himself from creaming in his pants like a teenager. With his voice strained, hoarse with effort, as he instructed you to lay back.

You do as you are told, heat in your belly igniting once more when you hear the clinking of his belt unbuckling; bending your legs up, to get betting frictions on your tingling nub, as you waited as patiently as you could for his return.

The chair groaned, squeaking slightly, at the added weight Sero provided, as he situated himself between your legs once more. You gasped, one that turned into a moan, when you felt his cock head tap at your entrance; his hard length sliding up and down your slit - teasing you as he coats himself in your juices.

“Hanta…!” You groan out, hips bucking to try and slip him inside; groaning once more in frustration when you feel his hands pin your hips down once more “Hurry up!”

“So impatient, naughty, naughty, naughty ” He clicks his tongue at you, chuckling at the frustrated glance you cast his way “Just give me a second, don’t wanna hurt you after all”

You huff, brows furrowing further as acquiesced; knowing thing it was for the better to have him take things slow - but the burning in your core was making it difficult for you to have a clear and level head; wanting nothing more to feel him fill you up.

After another agonizing minute, you slowly feel him sink into your heat; feeling his fat cock stretch you out so agonizingly slow that it makes you throw your head back and moan; mouth agape as you feel every inch bury itself deeper into your core.

“God, you’re tight!” Sero hisses, body taut as he holds himself above you as he continued pushing into you “Already milking me, baby, damn!”

You both groan when he finally bottoms out, breathing labored as they mingle together in-between tiny kisses as you both try to adjust; legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to you, as he begins his slowly thrusting into you.

His thrusts were almost teasing with how slowly he was moving, dragging his cock out languidly from your gummy walls before slowly returning back into your warmth - but they were precise, with each thrust hitting every sweet spot you had; making your eyes cross as you fell into the throws of pleasure over his slow lovemaking.

Over time though, Sero could not keep up the unhurried pace; what was once a tactic to ensure that he didn’t cum too early, to properly worship you and your perfect body, was now not enough - his body needed more. His lips attached to yours, kisses muffling the sweet moans that you were making as he slowly picks up his pace; thrusts turning sloppy and hurried, a fair cry from before, as Sero now becomes unable to hold off his own pleasure; frantically trying to chase his release.

The sloppy, wet, noises of your pussy could be heard over your constant moans, over the  sound of his skin slapping against yours, and it was becoming overwhelming - his thumb joining his frenzied hips as he rubbed at your clit; trying desperately to get you up and over that edge before him, to feel your walls flutter and clasp his weeping cock as it did his fingers before he spilled into you.

But he failed, your wanton moans as they called out his name, and the sharp sting of your nails and they dug into his back pushed him too far; quickly pulling out with a choked wail he came; spilling his hot seed all over your thighs and stomach.

“I-I’m sorry” he gasped, trying to regain his breath - body, and cock, still twitching over the intensity of his organism; leaving you for a brief moment to get a clean rag from his equipment table to clean you up.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, voice still raspy and sore, as you watched him methodically clean you up.

“Well, you know, about getting you all messy. And…. yeah…” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders, too embarrassed to look at you or saw the real reason he apologized.

It made you smile, though you did your best to contain the giggles that threaten to pass your lips as you watched him. Sitting up, you pushed the hand that was cleaning you away, pulling him back down into you for a kiss.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind getting messy. Part of the fun, right?” You giggled, nudging your nose with his trying to lighten the mood; effectively making a small smile tug at his lips as he returned your kiss.

“Besides…” you whispered, hands coming down to teasingly stroke his chest “My place isn’t too far from here. If you wanted, you could spend all night making it up to me”

“Aren’t you a naughty girl,” Sero smirked, hands grabbing the meat under your thighs as he picked you up from his chair; moving your legs to wrap around his hips to keep you upright and in place “But, I think my place is closer.”

[oh-meretseger]

part 2 (of whatever this is) - Clean Freak

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (there will be a lot more coming, I’m pouring all my fantasies into this fic lmao so bear with me), Jean being quite a pervert, fantasizing about oral, masturbation

word count: 3,4k

“You're gonna let Jean see you in THAT?!" Sasha yelled out suddenly, right after she promised to stay when Jean was coming over to your dorm to finally finish your project. You had to complete it by Friday, and it was already Wednesday, leaving you the most frustrated with Jean you've ever been. His immature approach to the whole thing made you question how he even got admission to college. The way he ignored all the work and instead kept stealing your notes, your glasses, he pulled your hair, poked his fingers between your ribs made you think he was actually a toddler in an muscular man's giant costume...

"Yeah, you're right, I can't show any surface of skin around that manchild" you glanced in the mirror, and quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants to slide over the tight shorts that covered definitely too little. Your arms were already covered in bruises due to all the damn poking, pinching and suffering Jean put you through this week. You couldn't let him target your legs next.

Since that ominous day in the library, Jean was more insufferable than ever. You had a feeling that it had to do with the multiple seconds you were kneeling on his lap, pressed up against his chest and face... And the awkward, quiet minutes after that you spent trying to hide your blood red face. You tried to ignore the heat that spread through your body whenever that moment popped into your mind, because it just left you confused.

You also tried not to look Jean into his eyes after that, if not necessary, but you could definitely sense him get ten times more irritating since.

And working on that project with him became impossible.

But you guys finally managed to arrange you and Sasha getting a two-bed dorm room together, and it seemed like the perfect, most peacful place to finally finish the project. With Sasha being there, you hoped you both would detain from bullying the hell out of each other, and actually get the work done.

"Pookie, stop covering up, just let it happen" Sasha laughed, sitting on her bed while watching as your movements became nervous. You turned to her confused. "How long are y'all going to pretend you're not into each other?"

You blushed instantly and turned away, hoping she wouldn't see you getting embarassed right away. What is she talking about?

"Sasha-" you awkwardly searched for the right words to reply, and Sasha chuckled again. "Stop being crazy. We're not into each other"

"Sure, Jan" she replied raising her eyebrows, and you let out a giggle at the joke. Although you wanted her to know how much of an insane idea it was to think that you and Jean...

"He's a damn playboy, he probably has a roaster of girls from around the campus that I definitely wouldn't fit into" you said your thoughts out loud while folding the few pieces of clothes laying around on your bed. "He's an annoying idiot anyway"

"He doesn't have a roaster of girls, actually. But I see why you would think that" Sasha smiled as she watched your movements in the mirror. "He does seem like an arrogant jock, but I've known him for years. He's a sweetheart. And there's definitely something between you two, so stop denying it to yourself, missy”

You quickly turned your back to her while quietly smiling at her words. You hoped she couldn't see, but she chuckled as she caught a glimpse of the curve of your lips in the mirror. Sasha grabbed the pair of jeans laying next to her and started changing her comfy joggers.

"He does seem arrogant, and he makes me go insane on purpose" you frowned, putting the stack of folded clothes away to your closet. "But I've only known him for a few months, so surely, you know him better"

"I do, and he's great. And don't call me Shirley" Sasha jumped from the bed, trying to use the momentum to get her butt into the tight jeans, and you bursted out laughing as you turned to her.

Your smile faded rather quickly as you saw her changing her shirt as well, as if she was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?!"

"Oooh sorry, Y/N, I forgot I already made plans with Hisu to go out, we're getting froyo" her eyes sparked with pure joy at those last few words, and you felt yourself shatter, instantly starting to panic.

"NO! You promised you would stay!"

"I knowww, I really am sorry" Sasha pouted, and quickly grabbed her cute little crotcheted bag on her way to the door, as you both heard a loud knock. That pout was SO fake, you knew she was doing this on purpose... Whatever her goal was. "I'll bring you a cup of that blueberry one you like, I promise"

"YOU PRO-" you froze in your place as Sasha reached the door and it swung open, revealing Jean standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Jean!" Sasha looked up at him with the most cheerful, chirping voice, as if she didn't just betray you with this evil surprise of hers. Of course, she'd made no plans to go out with Hisu whatsoever, but she did miss her, and getting multiple cups of froyo sounded like a great afternoon plan. Besides, she did want to leave you and Jean to be in private, completely alone...

"Hi, are you not-"

"No, no, no, I've got EXTREMELY important places to be" Sasha cut Jean off as she grabbed him by his jersey, then yanked him through the doorway and into the room. You stood there in shock, watching her leave you, with him, to suffer.

"Sasha!"

"Bye, pookies!"

BANG. The door slammed shut behind her, and you two were left there, completely alone. Your eyes darted to him, and Jean adjusted the jersey on his chest that Sasha nearly ripped apart a few seconds ago.

He was clearly coming from hockey practice, you could tell not only by the oversized jersey he wore, but also by the way his hair looked. It was messy, a few ashy brown strands sticking to his temple, wet with sweat, although it seemed like he did try to quickly comb it back. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheekbones and nose dusted with a reddish tint, his lips plump and wet from the empty water bottle he held in his hand. Your eyes wandered to the stubble on his sharp jawline, fading down to his neck. The skin slightly glistened from sweat, the muscles creating lines of shadow as he raised his head...

"The hell's wrong with her" he murmured frowning, looking up to see you staring right at him. As the hazel eyes met with yours, the heat forming in your center turned into a definite warm, tingling sensation between your legs, and you felt yourself starting to melt.

What. The. Hell.

There's no way you're getting wet at the sight of this idiot, dripping with sweat, smelling like a boy's locker room.

"I don't know, she's in silly goose mode today" you quickly shrugged and turned your head to break the few moments of silence of you looking into each other's eyes. Jean held back a smile forming on his face, and he dropped his backpack on the rug next to your bed.

"Sorry for being late, practice lasted a little longer than I expected" he apologized, throwing himself on the end of your bed without a second thought. You instantly felt your stomach drop at the thud, and turned to see the most horrific sight you could ever imagine.

Jean's sweaty, dirty body laying on your clean, white bedsheets.

"JEAN!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jean yelled out, half-laughing from the element of surprise, as he tried to defend himself from your immediate attack. You jumped on the bed and started pushing his body down with all the strength you could gather. "AGH, you're breaking my ribs, you rat!"

"Get off of my bed, you're fucking dirty!" you groaned as Jean put his big ass palm on your forehead, trying to get you off of him. An intense wave of anger fueled your effort to move the sweaty body twice as big as yours. "You're getting your sweat all over my stuff!"

"You should be grateful for any bodily fluid of a man touching your stuff" Jean laughed, and moved his palm to cover and smush the whole of your face, when you decided that pushing with your hands was not enough, and started bullying his ribcage with your knee. Your shouts were muffled by his hand pressed into your face, but instead of giving up, you decided to let your teeth do the talking for you. "AARGH!"

Jean's muscles lost their defensive tension due to the  sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his palm, and taking adventage of his momentary weakness, you pushed him as hard as you could. His body rolled over and landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

"You're fucking insane" Jean pushed himself to slowly sit up, examining his other hand that you injured with a painful hiss leaving his mouth.

"PTUH, did you not wash your hands after digging in dirt?!" you growled at him, trying to spit out the dirty taste his hand left in your mouth. But that's what you get for biting him, you guessed.

You frantically started brushing off your face when you realized, it was not only your mouth that Jean's dirty palm got smushed into, but also the precious skin of your face.

"Yeah, I jerked off with that hand after that, hope you like the taste" Jean scoffed at you, but the smug look on his face quickly turned into an honest burst of chuckle as he watched you stick out your tongue, trying to get him out of your mouth by the little spitting sounds you were doing.

"You're a prick"

"And you're clinically insane, but here we are" he replied, then pushed himself from the floor to stand up. You followed his actions, then stepped to your closet as you shook your head.

"Here" you threw your largest oversized t-shirt you could find in his direction, and he reached to catch it, followed by the clean towel tossed to his chest. "You can take a shower here"

"A shower?"

"You will NOT rub your sticky body all over my bed" you crossed your arms, looking over to him. You could feel your lips curve into a smile, seeing the confused look on his face, still flushed from running from practice and of course brutally fighting with you. Confusion on that smug face of Jean's was a rare sight to see.

And it was kinda cute.

Huh?

You quickly shook your head to get rid of the stupid thoughts, and pointed your finger in the direction of the bathroom of your dorm. "You stink"

"Get off my back, I'll sit on the chair then" Jean gestured towards the only chair in the room, being Sasha's comfy rolling desk chair - which she definitely didn't want smelling of a dirty, sweating man. You shook your head. "C'mon, I skipped showering and dropped off my stuff at my dorm just to get here in time because of your bitching ass!"

"Don't care, didn't ask" you replied with a snarky, forced smile, and tossed a pair of Connie's sweatpants to him. He lended it to Sasha a few days back, after she yeeted a bucket of chocolate ice cream into her lap at Connie’s and Jean’s dorm.

"Thanks, dipshit" Jean grimaced right back at you, and accepting his loss, turned his back to you to walk into your bathroom. You couldn't help staring at the broad shoulders, his wide back muscles moving under the jersey as he moved, just like his glute muscles under the sweatpants that became visible where the jersey rode up... "Hey, these are my sweats!"

"Tell Connie, he's the one giving away your stuff" you replied with a smirk. "You're welcome, by the way"

Jean shut the door behind him, and you threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in your hands. What the actual fuck is happening in your head?

Jean in your bathroom, on the other hand, was not so confused by his feelings as you were by yours.

He stood in front of the sink and lifted the shirt you gave him up to his face. He closed his eyes as the familiar smell of you filled his nose. It was a clean, kind of a sweet scent, that he knew exactly from all the times he got into your face, bullying you to insanity in the past few weeks.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and threw the clean clothes on the edge of the sink. It was a small bathroom, full of a bunch of shampoo bottles, cream jars, serums, pots, and whatever other girly products he couldn't identify to save his life. There was not much room to put any of his stuff.

Jean started taking his clothes off, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. You were kinda right, he did look dirty. His hair was a mess, a few strands dripping of sweat and stuck to his face and neck.

He saw you staring at it when he caught your eyes after Sasha left.

Maybe you thought of him the same way he thought of you? The way he still saw you as a stuck up little nerd, but found you more and more attractive the more he got under your skin, just turned him on so much. More than anything. Maybe it was because your angry moments made your tough, icy shell break, that you specifically made just to hide from him. And under that shell, you were not the mousy dork you wanted him to see.

His dirty, sweat-drenched clothes dropped on the tile floor one by one, as Jean got completely undressed. He saw you getting flustered more and more frequently, when you two were close to each other. He wondered if you thought of him getting naked in that small bathroom right now.

You absolutely did. You felt your cheeks growing warm under your palms, as you laid there, face still buried in your hands, Jean getting undressed on the other side of the door being the only thought in your mind. You wanted to stop the thoughts, but they sent waves of warmth down your body, making you throb in your panties...

And it felt good.

You've been denying the pleasure of letting these thoughts flow free for weeks now. You gave up. He was within a few feet from you, and he was probably already naked.

Jean grabbed the clean towel, and swiftly looked around to find a place to put it, where it'll be within reach from the shower. There was a wicker basket half-full of clothes, with a familiar pair of socks thrown on the top, covered in small little teddy bears. That was definitely Sasha's. Next to it was what looked like another laundry box. That must be yours.

Jean stopped for a moment. Instead of simply using it as a temporary towel holder, he stepped closer to the box and slowly lifted the lid.

Yes, it was definitely yours.

After a quick glance at the closed door, he carefully reached into it, pulling out a familiar lilac top of yours. He remembered it, because it was quite a tight one, not like your usual baggy t-shirts that you liked to hide under. This one top made it hard for him not to look at the round outlines of your perfect tits, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Jean lifted the top to his nose, getting a whiff of your sweet scent.

Jean felt like such a fucking pervert at that moment. There has never been a need for him to get creepy, he could basically get any girl he wanted. There was not one time when he felt called to stalk on anyone, or act out of line, being in their bathroom and smelling their used clothes.

Dear lord.

He almost, almost convinced himself to cut it off, and just take a shower. But as he reached to drop the lilac top back in the box, a pair of panties caught his eye on top of the laundry. Fuck.

Jean already felt himself getting hard as he pulled out the soft piece of fabric, and felt it between the tips of his fingers. It was a simple cotton pair, with a blue little bow at the top. Jean closed his eyes, imagining the bow sitting right above your little pussy, and blood flowed into his groin, his cock getting rock hard in no time.

He let out a quiet sigh as he imagined how your wet folds must taste just as sweet and salivating as you smelt. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was extremely wrong... But he also couldn't stop now.

Jean wrapped his fingers around his hardened cock, and jerked himself a little bit while thinking of how he would lick and tease your little clit through this soft fabric. His tip started glistening with precum as the thought of you moaning in pleasure filled his mind. Your eyes would be looking into his, your long eyelashes blinking down at him, practically pleading him to pull the panties aside and lick your wet, creamy center.

"Holy shit" Jean whispered with a quiet, low groan and hesitated for a moment, before wrapping the pair of panties around his achingly hard cock. He had to gather all his strength to hold back his moans as he started to slide them up and down on his shaft. This is so wrong.

But he so desperately wanted to be inside of you.

He bit down on his lower lip, tightening your panties around the head of his cock. The precum leaking from the tip started to form a wet little patch on the fabric. The softness of it, your smell still lingering in his nose and overwhelming his senses, the image in his head of your legs spread wide open for him... It just felt so fucking good.

Jean started to let out a few quiet sighs as he let himself enjoy the thought of eating you out, then the whole of his body jerked in shock as a loud knock on the bathroom door stopped him in his tracks.

"Jean, what the hell are you doing? Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and get in the shower, we don't have all day" you yelled through the door. It took you multiple seconds to talk yourself out of peeping through the keyhole.

Jean quickly dropped the panties back into the laundry box and closed the lid. You heard the shower start running in no time, and you threw yourself on the bed again, as if burying your face in the pillows made all your dirty little thoughts of him go away. You imagined as water ran down on his skin, wetting his hair, dripping from his most sensitive parts...

"Holy fucking shit, I'm out of my mind" you murmured into the pillow, and cursed Sasha for leaving you to suffer in this situation.

And for being so right about you being into him.

In little less than ten minutes, the bathroom door swung open and with a cloud of hot steam around him, Jean appeared wearing the clean clothes you gave him. You sat up on your bed, and instantly bursted out laughing at the sight.

His own grey sweatpants obviously fit him right, but the large t-shirt you lended him was so tight around his chest and shoulders, it looked like it was moments from tearing apart. Not to mention the length of the shirt on his tall frame left the lower part of his stomach completely uncovered.

"I like your crop top, babygirl" you grinned looking up at his face, and Jean frowned, but you could see the glimpse of the smile he was holding back. You forced yourself to ignore the wetness you felt spreading in your panties as you looked at his happy trail peeking from under your shirt. The V-line formed by his hips lead your eyes right down to the crotch of his sweatpants, and you felt yourself blush again.

This was going to be a misery, that was for sure.

"Shut up, clean freak" Jean growled and occupied his well deserved place on the end of your bed.

[cherryrikis]

BETTER LUCK TOMORROW - introduction ! senior project

pairing : nishimura riki x reader

synopsis : after being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you (as well as your friends), were framed for the death of your brother and disappearance of your boyfriend. you all had no hope. no job, no money, none of you were even allowed to graduate. at least, until a stubborn kid on a dance scholarship suddenly acts as your savior, riki helps clear your name all for the sake of a school project.

this episode contains the following : 1.3k wc, brief swearing, mentions of death & mentions of murder/killing, lots of dialogue

previous | masterlist | next

“as you all know, you have a major senior project due by the end of the year for part of your college interviews. this will be worth 90% of your grade and is not optional. any questions to far?” riki’s english teacher read off the whiteboard, before turning to face the class.

she cleared her throat loudly before continuing.

“late work will not be accepted, because you have until may 25 to get this project submitted. everyone should know which college they plan on attending, or applying to by now. a google slides format must be be at least 25 slides, and a word doc should be at least 10 pages.”

jungwon quoted the teacher, explaining to riki what’s expected of them after he realized riki hadn’t been paying attention.

“how the hell did you remember all she said? and- why are you even here.. you’re like, a freshman in college.” riki noticed, with a visible look of confusion on his face.

“sophomore, actually. and i’m here for volunteer work! we have finals too you know. i was telling you and sunoo about this last week, but it’s for my social thought class!-” jungwon explained with a smile, only for it to drop as he was cut off .“yeah yeah okay. so what kind of topic am i supposed to pick?” riki asked before crumpling up a random paper into a ball, tossing it in jungwons direction.

jungwon let out a sigh. “riki, you really need to do better. if you can’t improve how you act, that impact will show on my grade as well. and that won’t be good for either of us.” he said as he took the paper ball, unfolding it to reveal riki’s report card from last quarter. it wasn’t too bad really, mainly straight a and b minuses. but the biggest issue, was behavior and participation.

“how would your grade tanking be bad on me? i still have until fall before i start going to ucla.”

“i really don’t know how you got in.” jungwon shook his head.

“dance scholarship. duh.” “nishimura riki! you have 7 more minutes to determine your main topic. i recommend that you use your time more wisely.” the teacher called out from her desk.

“okay seriously, now we have to focus. what topics are you interested in?” jungwon asked, as he pulled his notebook out.

“well, i like dancing. i can research the history on different dance styles.” riki shrugged, loosely putting an idea out there.

“that’s actually not that bad, especially as a dance major. let’s sit on that idea for a bit in case anything else comes up. what else do you like?” jungwon hummed while briefly scribbling a few notes in.

“i don’t even get why i still have to do this stupid assignment when i already heard back from ucla. if anything it’s a waste of my time, because this only benefits the kids who haven’t heard back yet.” riki complained.

“well,” jungwon chuckled. “the start of the fall semester is still a while from now, anything can change by then. they’re still gonna be looking at your final report card and all that. this is just to determine that your slot in that school is ensured. i think the you from freshman year would be proud to see you improve.”

but of course, he wasn’t listening. riki was hyper focused on his computer. at least until the last sentence stuck out to him.

“say that again?” riki questioned, making sure he heard jungwon right.

“the you from three years ago would be proud if you improved?” he repeated an improvised version, with a raised brow.

riki chewed on the bottom of his pen, before hastily writing something down on jungwon’s notebook.

“you.. you want to solve heeseung and jay’s case..?” jungwon stuttered as he read the notes. “how is this even related to what i said? is it because you were a freshman when it happened?”

“do you really believe yn was capable of killing them? i mean honestly, won. we grew up with her. she was heeseung’s little sister.” riki insisted, ignoring jungwon’s previous questions.

“i couldn’t believe it either, because there was no way it could’ve been her. but there was a lot of evidence that said otherwise.” jungwon informed, moving the notebook back onto his desk.

“also, don’t get mad when i say this. but, do you think the reason why you’ve been so fixated on yn being innocent is because you never got over your crush on her from middle school?”

“hey! shut the fuck up dude.” riki hissed, slapping the older boy on the back of his head. “and she was someone we were close to, a 17 year old at the time. it just isn’t likely.”

“age doesn’t mean anything. 35% of murders in america were committed by people ranging between 17 and 21. and, 28% of murders are committed by a relative or acquaintance. chances are low but not zero.” a girl butt in from behind the them. riki whipped his head back to see who it was, only to wish he never turned around.

minji kim. a pain in the original friend groups ass since elementary school.

the two stared at her with two completely different expressions. riki looked minji up and down with a frown, while jungwon just blinked slowly with wide eyes.

“what? do you seriously not remember me?” she scoffed.

“no trust me, we do, minji.” riki huffed before turning back around.

“we’re just wondering how you know that, is all.” jungwon hummed.

“my brother is a police officer now. i’m sure if you didn’t know who he was, one of your other friends might.” she snickered.

minjae kim. he is minji’s brother and one of the officers who handled the heeseung-jay case, aka one of the officers responsible for the arrests of yn and a few others. riki would know, because he attended the court hearing.

“minji, what topic have you selected?” the teacher asked as she briefly looked up from the computer screen.

“i will be making a slideshow on the history of ballet.” she answered with a proud smile. oh how riki just wanted to wipe that look off her face.

“and.. finally. riki and jungwon?”

"me and jungwon will investigate the lee siblings case, from 3 years ago." and the teachers face fell.

"riki, i don't know if this is a good topic write on. you still have time to change your mind-"

"no. this is what i want to do. i want to solve the murder of heeseung lee, and the disappearance of jay park." riki cut off the teacher with determination.

and the class went silent.

"there's nothing to solve! yn lee killed her own brother, and her own boyfriend. case closed." minji said. but remember, her brother was one of the officers who testified against yn. of course, her opinion on the topic was just as biased as riki’s or jungwon’s could be.

"shut up minji, your brother got demoted for a reason. and, you didn't know yn." jungwon waved off.

"you may have known heeseung but that doesn't mean you know her. and i know enough about yn lee to see that shes a cold hearted killer." "enough!" the teacher interrupted.

"fine. riki and jungwon, you may pursue this case. but we have to set some boundaries. first off, you may use any public sources or personal connections. secondly, when contacting any sources like publishers or officers, do not push the limit. if they say certain answers to questions are confidential, then respect that. third and foremost, absolutely do NOT contact the lees or the parks. leave any involved families out of this, especially now that miss yn lee is out of juvie."

she teacher sighed in slight relief as she saw jungwon and riki nodding in agreement.

but what she didn’t see, was how their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

taglist ! @jiiyen @prettiestgirlontheplanet @hannicorpse @wonsboo @murazbae @stilesks @soobinbunnie5 @blvengene @r1kification @gyuvision @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @who-tf-soddhi @mmurazz @jaemified @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @heartheejake @hoonsdrnkdzd

not proofread

[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

Stitchy Sunday!

As predicted, this is a day late, but I was off having a lovely cottage on the lake weekend with my friends followed by a Hobo Johnson concert. We're just going to pretend this is on time.

So thank you to @roomwithanopenfire @thewholelemon @blackberrysummerblog @tender-ministrations @artsyunderstudy

@emeryhall and @ic3-que3n for tagging me in your S-allerated Sunday posts!

As promised, today is the final outfit reveal for my Simon-inspired Ren Faire wings!

Wings closed, front and back:

Wings open, front and back:

I didn't get to make any of my other adjustments (like stronger magnets), but I did discover that the magnets are adjustable, meaning I can loosen or tighten the screws they're on to make the wings sit a little higher/lower and ensure the wings aren't tilted. I made them as tight as possible (so they sat as high as possible) and tbh I had no issues with them?? Was this the fix I needed all along?

When we arrived at the fairgrounds, I put the wings on, and as I tightened the straps the rivet popped off the left strap. I thought "Did I just do all this work to break them at the last minute and not be able to wear them?" Yet I was oddly calm, resigned to my fate. I asked Kat to see if she could jerry-rig it just in case. She slipped the disconnected top strap through the adjuster-thingy and... it worked??? We are unsure why this was so successful, but I had NO problems with it all day.

I got lots of comments, complements, and a few picture/video demonstration requests, validating my own belief that the wings are cool as shit. The LARPers were especially impressed. And becuase the fair was expanded this year, including more open space and less crowded walkways, I was even able to walk around with them open for a bit! And I didn't knock anything over inside the booths, either!

I also got my first trinkets from trinket-traders because they liked my wings!

I did not come prepared with my own trinkets as I have never been cool before, so I'm workshopping some ideas for next year, including: polished rocks (dragon horde shinies), painted bottle caps (perhaps with a dragony logo on each one?), sea glass (does require effort of going out and finding the sea glass...), scales (not sure what they'd be made of, though. 3D printed and painted? acrylic? gotta be a simpler solution...). Suggestions welcome.

Bonus: As we watached the joust, I of course started to build a Snowbaz Ren Faire AU based around the semi-scripted joust performances we have each year. I doubt I'll ever write it, but it's fun to think about!

I would like to thank Kat for being my Ladie's Maid every year and helping me get into my corset and, now, wings. Also for driving. I would also like to thank Dropout's D20: A Starstruck Odyssey and Netflix's Dead Boy Detectives for being my companions throughout this project. And of course, thank you to all of my Simon Snow friends for the enthusiasm and encouragement along the way!

Next year's upgrade: Tail!

Tagging even though it's late:

@bookish-bogwitch @onepintobean @technetiumai @martsonmars  @cutestkilla

@fatalfangirl @ileadacharmedlife @moodandmist @palimpsessed  @skeedelvee

@theimpossibledemon @shrekgogurt @cccloudsss @mooncello @monbons

@theearlgreymage @youarenevertooold @larkral @facewithoutheart @messofthejess