#addys masterlist

[daydreamlib]

⋰˚☆ 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘. 𝙫𝙤𝙡. 𝟯

𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳: 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♡

♡ — 𝗌: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 | 𝖺: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖿: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

♡ — 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

♡ — 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼. 𝗏𝗈𝗅. 𝟣

♡ — 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼. 𝗏𝗈𝗅. 𝟤

╰ ⌗ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

pointers (art donaldson; s)

dressing up (art donaldson; s)

cowboy hat (art donaldson; s)

kiddo (art donaldson; s)

where art thou? why not uponeth me? (art donaldson; s)

aftercare (patrick zweig; s)

college senior (patrick zweig; s)

pets and praises (patrick zweig; s)

move in (art donaldson; f)

╰ ⌗ 𝘇𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝘆

passed out (s)

caught (f)

who's got him smiling like that? (f)

making out (f)

kindred spirits (a, f)

╰ ⌗ 𝗽𝗮𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀

comfort (f)

oblivion (dark!paul; s, a, f)

the death of a star (s, a, f)

╰ ⌗ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗹 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀

anchor, pt. 1 (carl grimes; a)

anchor, pt. 2 (carl grimes; a)

anchor, pt. 3  (carl grimes; a, f)

╰ ⌗ 𝗷𝗼𝗵𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗰𝗸 

indulge (s)

alone together (s)

an even exchange (series; s)

╰ ⌗ 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘁 '𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿'

letters addressed to you (a)

you heart i will choose (f)

tired (a, f)

╰ ⌗ 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗼𝗹𝗳 

sex tape (stiles stilinski; s)

riders on the storm (stiles stilinski; s)

dominance (theo raeken & scott mcall; s)

[addisonnie]

ellie williams

hinge and uhaul

college!au. when all else fails…one must look for love on hinge!

hinge and uhaul 2

your second date with ellie!

you, me, & mary-jane

dealer!ellie comes in clutch in more ways than one.

you, me, & mary-jane 2

dealer!ellie becomes something… a little more than just your dealer.

you, me, mary-jane, & some sharks! (3)

dealer!ellie has an interesting date idea… certainly it has nothing to do with fish.

baptize in your thighs

ellie doesnt go to church…but when she does, it’s for the preacher’s daughter.

extra blurb

mine for the summer

a lifeguard and a camp counselor walk into a bar…

[charlicpace]

NAME INSPO: doctor who edition ! it's official, i'm back in my insufferable era, and i can only apologise in advance. let's be real, we should just skip the entire list and create a set of twins called gallie and freya, you in ?

adelaide

adam

alistair

amelia

amy

andy

angel

april

astrid

beau

bliss

bob

brannigan

brook

cal

canton

cantrell

cathica

cerys

christina

cooper

clyde

crete

cassandra

clara

dane/s

danny

donna

eddison

elton

esther

evangelista

everett

francine

grace

graham

grey

gwen/yth

harriet

harper

heather

ianto

ida

idris

jabe

jack

jackson

jacqueline

jake

jast

jenny

jessica

jethro

jo

john

kelsey

lake

lance

lazlo

leo

leticia

liberty

lillith

luke

lynda

margaret

maria

martha

matteus

max

melody

mickey

moss

nancy

noble

osgood

oswald

oswin

owen

preston

ram

rani

renette

rex

rhys

ricky

river

robina

rory

rose

rosita

ruby

ryan

sally

sanjay

santini

sarah-jane

saxon

shaun

shereen

skaro

soloman

sparrow

steffi

suki

sunday

suzette

sylvia

tallulah

tanya

thay

toshiko

wilfred

wolfie

yana

yasmin

yvonne

zachary

[byersbootyshorts]

Bones Masterlist

Requests for this fandom are currently closed

Any of my works marked * contain explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Zack Addy:

One shots:

The Breakfast Anomaly After a long week at work you decide to start your day off by making breakfast for Zack. But when he tries to help you it takes a disastrous turn.

Blurbs:

Comforting Zack when he’s upset

Lance Sweets:

One shots:

Missed Reservation You and Lance get a little distracted before your Valentine’s Day dinner reservation, meaning you end up having to order takeout.

[2frosty4you]

⋆Knife in the Frame (Zack Addy x reader)⋆

↪⋆ Read on Ao3 or Wattpad

Summary

Dr. (Y/n) (L/n), proudly one of the best forensic pathologist and toxicologist in New York, and head of her own forensic building in New York. Being close friends with, Cam she takes over her post while she goes on holiday. But (L/n)'s keeping a secret, one which will be exposed if she doesn't keep it hidden from the Jeffersonian.

Warnings

Will include a lot of death, blood and attempts at gore, descriptions of forensic equipment and techniques, dead bodies and me trying to describe them, decomposition, bugs, maggots and me attempting to write angst

↪⋆ Read here on Tumblr

Prologue.

↪⋆knifeintheframe is the tag i use for content about this fic !

[adalynn-loverss]

MASTERLIST

ADDICTIVE (series)

000

WISH YOU WERE SOBER.

loading . . .

WONDERLAND

loading . . .

[munsonmuses]

Addie’s Masterlist

Meet The Blog Runner

Addie—21—they/them—longtime writer—even longer time fictional character addict—requests:open—inbox:open—come say hi

Current Series: Hateful Recollections (Childhood Best Friend! Eddie x Fem Reader)

Dan Avidan

Dan and The Barista Series

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

Eddie Munson

Series:

Sub Eddie x heiress! Reader

SweetTooth, Cavities

Ghost! Eddie x Reader

Spiritual Reserves Masterlist

Hateful Recollection (childhood best friend Eddie x Fem! Reader)

Hateful recollection , Smudged Reflection, Meeting in the Middle, Cold as Ice

Blurbs:

Noise Complaint (modern day, college boy Eddie x RA reader)

Wedding Daze - (Wedding Daze Eddie Munson x Fem Reader)

Prince Paul

Razors and Tongues

Eric (AQPDO)

Sounds of satisfaction

Emperor Geta

Empiric Strength

Jamie Campbell/Henry/Vecna

One Shots

Henry and his Accomplice - Inside

[deathsbecome]

damn yall gotta give addy more dynamics smh

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of charmed serial killer Simon. (Part 1 is here.)

This part is heavily inspired by this particular Badjhur audio “Surviving the Slasher” from, like, a long time ago. Where he’s a killer. Easier to find than expected, thank you masterlist. It permanently has a room in my pea brain, no rent, utilities included.

You’re out with your little friends again. Simon scoffs to even call them that. You give them so much more than they even try to give you - support, encouragement, time, energy.

One of them has a shitty deadbeat boyfriend that’s throwing a flat party, so they’ve dragged you along per usual. You’re still swearing off alcohol after the last time you went out - when you got a ride home with him. So you’re totally sober when the rest of the idiots suggest “investigating” the abandoned hospital on the other end of the block.

You go with them as the only fully-sober one, but spend the whole, stumbling trip trying to convince them to go somewhere, anywhere, else.

Apparently the boyfriend fancies himself something of an urban explorer because he knows just how to get in, bragging that he’s going to start some stupid internet show looking for ghosts there. You end up getting knocked into a half dozen times just trying to keep your woozy friends from getting tetanus.

It doesn’t take long at all for someone to suggest hide and seek. You try adamantly to put your cute little foot down - reminding them that it’s dirty and structurally unstable and there could be people just trying to camp out in peace in here. You’re adamantly ignored and your friends scatter.

And Simon starts to hunt.

Oh, he wishes he could have seen your face when the screams first started. If you recognized the shriek of Addy, the one who yanked you away from a proper apology when you first bumped into him at the bar. Wonders if you felt anything when Simon stabbed her boyfriend in the stomach and sent him stumbling away to incite more terror.

Of course you did. His pretty little chatterbox, coming to the rescue as soon as you heard their cries.

You get yourself lost trying to find someone, anyone. He picks off your group one. By. One. He finds you trying to triage a nasty slice to Heather’s thigh. She was talking shit about you just two days ago to Addy.

And oh, how brave you are, trying to stick with her to the very end. All it takes is one well-placed throw and you’re scrambling back as Heather burbles blood.

He takes a single, loud step towards you - and you bolt. Such a smart thing, you don’t even glance back to see if he’s following. He’s not; there’s still trash to take care of.

You find one more friend - one he doesn’t mind so much, mostly because you just met tonight. She’s crying, making a fuss and you’re trying to soothe her while still focused on escape, letting her cling to your arm.

Simon starts herding you both towards an easy exit. A few well placed foot falls here, a jaunty whistle there. He loves watching your big eyes dart toward the noises, how you get low like a bunny hiding in brush. Always put yourself between your new friend and wherever you think he could come from.

Your friends’ blood is beginning to dry when he decides it’s time to wrap things up.

He appears in a doorway, and you shove at your fellow survivor, make her squeeze through the rusty door first. You’re just starting to follow when he snags you around the middle. You yelp, feet kicking at air, tugging at his soaked hoodie sleeve.

He shoves your back against a wall and presses close, the flat of his knife against your pretty cheek.

“What did we learn tonight, hm?” he mocks.

You’re flinching away, but know better than to struggle or scream. So clever.

“W-why are you doing this?” you ask.

How sweet, that you can’t understand the motivations of monsters like him. He indulges you.

“To teach you a lesson,” he answers. “Get better friends.”

You look furious, even as tears well in your eyes. He coos over them, tugs the bottom of his mask up enough to lick them as they fall down your cheek.

“S-Stop, that’s - that’s so gross,” you hiccup, pancaking yourself to the wall.

He snorts in amusement and tugs his mask down again.

“Now, I know you’re a good girl with good manners, so let’s see them.”

You blink at him, eyes soooo big. Don’t understand what he means.

He tuts. “Say: thank you, ghost, for teaching me a valuable lesson.”

You press your lips together in a tight, pouty line. He wants to bite them. Instead, taps the point of the knife against your jaw. A silent threat that’s he’s still debating if he means.

But you manage to get the sentence out, stuttering, voice breaking halfway through. Mm, he’s missed hearing your gratitude. It’s almost sweeter this way than all the times you said it in his car.

“You’re very welcome, sunshine. Now, off you go, before I decide to teach you something else.”

You don’t hesitate when he steps back. Peel yourself off the wall and wriggle out to freedom.

Simon chuckles. What a fun little playdate, he’s so glad he let you go that first time. He’ll have to arrange another one soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[rrickgrrimes8]

Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :) 

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

x

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad. 

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated. 

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion? 

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home. 

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

x

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.” 

x

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[andersonsgirl]

dial dial !

abby anderson x fem! reader

a/n: ignore any spelling mistakes, i wrote this at LITERALLY 3:55 AM and was dying. being a girl is rough. anyways enjoy

warnings - SMUTTT! MDNI! porn without a plot, fingering, use of strap on, r! receiving, praising, dry humping, filth idk what else

masterlist

“fuck.” abby growled, her fingers knuckles deep inside your leaking cunt. You moaned face red inside a pillow, drool spilling lazily from your lips as abby’s fingers moved inside.

“ugnh.. abby!” you cried when her middle finger came in contact with a special spongey spot inside you. The way she rubbed it so quickly had you in a different dimension, seeing stars from the view of other universes.

“hm.. feel good, pretty girl?” she edged on, moving closer to the point of her breath fanning down your neck. “yes! ugh..yes… please..” you begged, eyes staring into her blue ones desperately. She smirked down at you, her pace inside you quickening. “please what?”

you moaned, the sound so loud you pitied your neighbors a little. “please… you know what..” abby halted her movement, earning you to gasp and shake your hips in a desperate attempt to get the friction back inside your sopping hole.

“please what? say it.” abby demanded, grabbing your jaw tightly, forcing you to look at her and ignoring you trying to grind on her fingers.

“please.. please let me cum.” you said, barley having any human thoughts, being too deep into your desperate needs.

“hm.. you’ll have to earn it.” abby pulled her fingers out, your walls desperately clenching around them before they could exit in any attempt to prevent them from leaving.

“abby! please. please let me.. i..” your whines were cut off by her lips on yours, desperately eating your face when you whined into it, allowing her hands to grab your waist and lift you onto her thigh.

you straddled her leg, and she pulled back.

“hump.”

your jaw fell for a moment, looking at her. “huh?”

“you want to cum? do it yourself. I’ll guide you.” her words turned you on like a switch, and you began riding her bare thigh.

the sensation of her bare skin against your wet clit felt incredible, soft whines and moans of pleasure escaping you as you grabbed her shoulders for stability, quickening your desperate pace. She held your hips, guiding you back and fourth, up and down. You could see your slick gleaming against abby’s skin, the sight making you moan out loud.

Your hips quickend, the sound of your pussy against her filling the room along side your overly loud whines.

“fu-uhh— abby. abby.. mhm..” you dropped your head, the familiar coil being built intensely in your stomach.

“yeah, baby?” she whispered in your ear, you could feel her smile against your face.

“I.. i’m gonna—

“you gonna cum?”

“mhm..”

abby had suddenly tightened her grip on you, moving her thigh harshly against your pussy— hitting it directly on your clit multiple times. your moans escaped you like birds from a cage, loud and high pitched.

“oh— my.. my god.. abby abby abby abby—”

you were cut off by her final shove and your last hump, the orgasm swallowing you whole. You threw your head back, tears brimming at your eyes.

“that’s it. good girl, cumming on my leg. such a good little thing.” abby praised, trailing kisses down your neck as you came. once you calmed down she flipped you over, catching you by surprise.

“abby—?”

“don’t worry, babe.” she whispered. you heard straps, but your arms and legs were shaking to the point all you could do was lay.

“don’t move, ‘kay?”

“‘kay..” you said back and suddenly the tip of an unfamiliar object had stuffed itself inside your sore cunt.

You gasp, sitting up and turning around. Abby had a big, purple strap attached to her wait.

“abby? what!?”

“sh— it’s fine, j’st trust me, okay?”

you swallowed, agreeing.

Abby slowly sunk the strap dick into your hole, causing you to grab the bedsheets. “fuck!” you exclaimed, muffled out by your buried face.

she began to fuck you, the sound of her thighs meeting your ass adding to your gasp and whines.

“oh my god— abby— abs.. i..” you couldn’t finish, the feeling inside you eating you whole.

You’ve never tried a strap with abby before, so this was new— and god, were you glad she bought it.

she gripped your hips, her pace increasing as she mercilessly pounded in and out of you.

You were at a loss for words, eyes snapped shut, mouth agape and brows creased dirtily with each thrust. Voice vanishing from your throat completely.

her grunts and groans could be heard from behind you, hands tightening their grip you were sure you were going to see some bruises.

She hit a spot inside you in a certain way, causing as gasp to escape you.

“abby.. I..”

“yeah, baby?” she grunted out, her face becoming impossibly faster in and out of your leaking cunt.

you moaned, shooting your head up and trying to use your arms for balance— abby saw, taking this as her chance to flip you over once again.

You were laying on your back before you could blink, tits exposed for her to stare at as she fucked you silly.

her pace didn’t slow, the long blonde braid on her head slapping her back from her dramatic movements.

you gripped the sheets once more, the baby pink fabric crushing under your grip. your breaths began to become shaky once you felt the familiar pleasure build up inside you again.

whining, you dropped your head to lay against you pillow.

You moans, abby’s grunts and the sound of her fucking you could make you cum in itself.

abby noticed your actions, speeding up her pace quickly— seeing you desperately trying to grab something.

she turned her hips lightly, pounding down on your exact spot, you moaned so loudly she thought she was hallucinating. she continued her work, and you slammed your eyes shut, ignoring the light tear-blamed stinging coming to the corners of them.

“gonna cum again, baby?”

you couldn’t even speak, throat too dry you had to settle for a fast nod.

“d’worry, i’ll take care of you.”

one of abby’s hands released your hip, coming down to cup the sensitive nub of your clit.

you swallowed, the pleasure and overstimulation of your third orgasm becoming too much to bare.

your little moans were enough to get abby off; though. finger rubbing harshly at your bud.

you shook, pleasure coursing through you unlike any you’ve felt, the moan that ripped through your mouth was accompanied by a cry, the once welding tears slipping down your cheeks.

“yeah.. let it out, that’s it. that’s it. so good, hmm? cumming again. what a good girl.” abby praised you, suddenly looming over your shrinking form.

“ugh— abby.. i dunno if i can do n’other one..” you whispered, voice gone as the tears slid off your face.

fuck, seeing you like this could make abby cum.

“i don’t think so, baby. i still have more surprises for you.” she hummed, slowly removing the strap causing a moan to erupt.

“absss.. i can’t..” she smiled at you, in a way you’ve never seen.

she reached below the bed for a moment, pulling out something you’ve never seen.

“what about me, baby?”

you sat up, seeing the toy. “what’s that?”

“it’s a vibrator. and,” she shuffled, her answer making you flush. “you are gonna do exactly what i tell you, yeah?”

she turned it on, handing it to you. the sight of her naked in front of you turned you on all over again.

“yes, abs..”

“good girl.”

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)

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

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

☾ Word Count: 21,606

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

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

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

☾ Published: July 9, 2023

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

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

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

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Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve

Change like a season

-

It begins with rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, it will suffice. 

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

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

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

“Just for a short walk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would that be like, you wonder. 

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

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

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

So you stopped praying to them. 

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

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

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

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

Always something lost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another dream. Another fantasy. 

-

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

-

It ends in darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… what?”

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

No. No. Nonononononono. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It is not my purpose!”

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

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

“I won’t do it,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking ungrateful,” he barks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to die. 

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

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

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

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

“Want?”

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

“What can you give?”

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

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

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

“What will you give me?”

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

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

“My time?”

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

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

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

“Then tell me you accept.”

You take a deep breath. “I accept.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The smallest viper has the greatest sting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth quirks and he nods. “It sounds like you had a terrible time. How about you take a well-deserved bath and get out of that terrible dress? Sorry to have left you in it, I was under strict instructions not to invade your personal space.”

“Yes, please.” You hesitate. “Where am I? Whose instructions?”

“You’re somewhere safe with someone who wants you to remain safe.” 

“Where is safe?”

He gives you a secretive smile as he nods toward the bathroom before turning on his heel and striding away. On unsteady feet, you follow him. It helps that the floor is warm, giving you the strength you need to make it down the two steps and across the stone toward the bathroom. 

“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer your question,” he admits. “I’m just here to help you get settled. My name is Taehyung, by the way.”

“Taehyung.” You say the word, familiarizing yourself with the shape of it as you enter the room and stop. 

The bathroom is far more luxurious than you realized from afar. There is a waterfall running down the black rockface between two basins, trickling into a little fountain that drains on the floor. To the right side of the bathroom is a large body of steaming water. 

Herbal scents fill the room as you near the edge of the dark surface of the water. It reminds you of hot springs in a cave near the southern villages, a place you’d only heard of but never seen. It’s massive, surrounded by a smooth, stone edge. There is a corner full of what appears to be salts, soaps and herbs alongside flickering candles. 

Opposite the hot spring is a giant glass window that overlooks mountains and lush greenery. From the window, you can see the entire world of wherever you are stretched out in the most dazzling and wonderful display. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somewhere that belongs in the epitome of night.

“How deep is that?” you ask, turning to Taehyung with a wary expression as you gesture to the body of water. 

His expression softens. “Waist high when you stand in the middle. There is a ledge that you can sit on all the way around. It’s incredibly safe and very warm. I can stand just outside the door if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.” 

Taehyung points to a stack of clothes resting on a stool near a cabinet full of towels and jars of things. “Those are for you to change into. The towels are for you to dry off, of course. Anything in the bathroom is yours to use.” Taehyung must sense your hesitation, because he gives you a soft smile. “You’re safe here. I promise.” 

“I’d feel better if I knew where here was.”

“Bathe. Relax. Then I’ll take you to him.” 

Taehyung does not give you a chance to ask to whom he refers. He strides out of the room and the door swings shut seemingly on its own. You blink a few times at it, standing in the middle of the warm bathroom in a daze.

Spinning, you look around the room and find yourself drawn to the window. Up close, you realize how high up you are. It’s a bit dizzying, and you look  down at the ground only to see that there is a garden bursting with purple and blue, neat rows of flowers that stretch until they meet a line of trees. 

A world of mountains unfolds beyond the window. You’ve never seen mountains but they are larger than you could have ever imagined, snowcaps stark against the night sky. It’s mesmerizing and a little too big, so you turn away from the window and head for the steaming basin of water. 

Peaking over the edge, you can see the bottom. It doesn’t look that deep, but your stomach twists as you pop the buttons on your dress. Your fingers feel stiff and disjointed as you work to undress. You look down at the ripped threads and the dirty fabric and think about how much time your mother spent stitching it.

Suddenly the dress feels suffocating and you pull hard on the garment, popping buttons from the threads and sending them clattering on the floor. You shed the dress and kick it away from you, stripping off your undergarments and lowering yourself to the edge of the water. 

A sigh leaves your mouth as you slide your feet and legs in first. The water is hot, though not scalding like you expected. Closing your eyes, you remain sitting on the edge for a moment, letting your calves soak and muscles unwind, fingers gripping the edge tight. 

Taking a deep breath, you slide forward a little, firmly placing your feet on the ledge Taehyung spoke of. For a moment, your fear spikes. You feel it sharp in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the basin. With a few deep breaths, you carefully slide down to the ledge proper, sinking in the hot water to the chest. 

“I’m not going to drown,” you whisper to yourself. The words come out shaky and you’re not entirely sure that you believe them. “I��m not going to drown, I am not going to drown, I am not going to drown.”

You repeat the mantra until you believe it, your fingers grasping the edge of the stone seat as you try to relax and melt into the water. It takes a while, but you finally grow too tired of remaining tense, taking a deep breath and gaining the courage to relax. 

Gently, you rest your head against the edge of the basin. Heat seeps into your skin and you feel the anxiety bleed out of you, your tensed muscles unwinding. You hadn’t realized how clenched up you were until you let go, and your body sags a little bit in the water. 

Time slips away. Thankfully, your body doesn’t hurt the way you anticipated that it would. Frowning, you press your fingers into your skin where there should be bruises and pain. There is no evidence on your skin that Nathaniel laid his hands on you the night before - the day before? You’re unsure how much time has passed, only that there is an eerie absence of your wounds.

Turning your head, you look at your dress discarded on the floor. There’s certainly evidence of a struggle spattered all over the fabric, but it makes you wonder if the god who answered your prayers has healed you.

A god. 

The thought comes to you in a snap and you stare down at the water, eyes unfocusing as you try to recall the details of what happened. You remember screaming for help, the sound of your desperation ripping through your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever screamed like that, terrified and wild. You remember thinking about the gods, begging them to hear you, willing them to listen. 

Water had been filling your lungs. Crushing out air. You remember the rush of the stream around you as it pulled at your fighting body. Nathaniel’s hands gripping you and holding you under viciously, fingers like claws as he tried to drown you. 

Then you surfaced and choked, completely shrouded in darkness…. And you remember that quiet voice made of smoke and shadow. Thinking of it now makes you shiver, despite how hot the water is. The voice had promised you freedom in exchange for time and had taken you to wherever this place was. 

You open your eyes, unsure when you had even closed them. Glancing around the room once more, you decide there is no way that you’re anywhere close to home. You’ve never seen anything like this bathroom before, a feat of what appears to be architecture and maybe magic. 

Soaps and salts line the edges of the bathing pool. When you feel brave enough, you dart across the middle like a minnow, trying not to think about how you nearly crossed death’s bridge in a shallow body of water not long ago. 

Unscrewing lids, you smell each of the glass bottles of liquid, humming in delight. You settle on a hard bar of soap that smells like lavender and mint. It feels good to scrub your skin raw. You imagine that you’re washing away all of the memories of Nathaniel’s fingers on your skin and the scratchy dress your mother made for you.

Fingers and feet pruned and skin feeling stripped of a top layer, you reluctantly exit the bath. The towels are the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You run the fabric between your fingers, tilting your head up at the sky and sighing. Wherever this dark god has taken you doesn’t seem so terrifying, yet it puts you more on edge, these luxuries. 

The clothes Taehyung left out for you fit well enough, though it’s obvious they are not your exact measurements. He’s provided you with soft, black pants and a loose, black tunic with intricate designs that look like clouds on the sleeves and collar. 

You hesitate when you’re ready to leave the bathroom. So far, it seems that whatever bargain you’ve struck with this god has been in your favor. But you know you’ve made a deal in a moment of fear, and you’re not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to.

Time.

Though you’re nervous, you can’t stay hidden in the bathroom forever. Nudging the door open, you peek around the edge, gaze sweeping the room as you look for Taehyung. He’s standing in the sitting area, face toward the flickering fire. He looks both terrifying and beautiful, hands linked behind his back as he watches the flames. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Taehyung calls without turning around. “I mean it when I tell you that you’re safe.”

Slipping through the door, you walk toward him, regarding him warily. “Still,” you answer. “I don’t know where I am. Are you even human?”

He does look over his shoulder then, flashing you a wicked grin. “I’m not.” 

Taehyung’s answer doesn’t put you at ease, but you’re unsure what to do. Wordlessly, he gestures for you to follow him as he heads through the door and out of the room. For a moment, you hesitate. What would happen if you refused to leave the room? Is your deal with the god already in effect? What are its limitations? 

You can answer none of the questions you have, so you follow Taehyung, hoping to find answers soon. Except as soon as you step out of the room, you think you might have even more questions. 

The halls are dark and lit with flickering torches, casting an orange glow up to the cavernous ceilings. Though you’ve never been in a castle or seen one, you have an idea of how grand they are. There is no doubt in your mind that this is a castle, the halls resplendent and sweeping with artwork and fabric and statues. 

In front of you, Taehyung walks jovially with his hands linked behind his back. He hums a tune you don’t know, but it sounds smooth and warm. You follow behind him, casting your gaze around as you walk, trying to remember which turns you take and what paintings you pass. 

You reach a tall, closed set of wooden double doors. Taehyung raps his fingers against the door, looking over his shoulder at you with an excited grin. Your stomach flips and you wipe your palms against the bottom of your tunic. Your hands feel shaky and you twine them into the fabric, willing them to stop. 

Taehyung must hear someone on the other side of the door, because he opens it and steps in and to the side, gesturing for you to enter. You take a deep breath and walk by him into the room, stopping immediately as you look up, your mouth falling open. 

It’s a library grander than you could ever imagine. Your town had quite a small library at the church that belonged to the high priest, but this is something beyond your wildest dreams. The ceiling stretches higher than your imagination, filled with floating lights and stars - the entire night sky is stretched above you in swirling constellations of purple and blue. 

Three floors make up the library, each lined with books and windows that look out into the evening. You can see sprawling gardens beyond the tinted glass, but it’s the shelves of books that catch your attention. Stepping into the room further, you slowly spin, looking at the sheer amount of volumes that line the walls. There are multiple seating areas with rich, velvet blue armchairs and couches, tables full of books and papers and ink bottles and maps. 

Your throat tightens as you look at Taehyung, your mouth wobbling. The urge to burst into tears has never felt greater than this moment. You never imagined that you could stand in a room with so many books, and the desire to pull one off the shelf and delve in is cut short by the single, glaring fact that you don’t know how to read them. 

Distracted by the books upon entry, it takes you a moment to notice another presence in the room. You feel a tingle at the back of your neck, one that draws your eyes toward a long table near the fireplace. It’s the same feeling you had when you were saved from Nathaniel, an awareness that buzzes along your skin.

A man stands in front of the table, watching you with dark, feline eyes. He’s beautiful. Otherworldly, really. His round features remind you of the moon, but it’s the sharp eyes and the careful pout of his mouth that draws you in. He looks both delicate and dangerous, and you notice the quirk on his lips as he watches you watch him. 

He’s in all black. Black pants tucked into black, knee-high boots, and a black, long-sleeved shirt. There’s a layer of necklaces around his neck and you can see shapes and runes that are unfamiliar to you. The same runes and shapes are on the rings on his long, delicate fingers, folded in front of him. 

This is the face of a god. You know it in the way that there’s something ancient in his eyes and in the way he glows from within. His power is tangible, a crackling energy pressing up against every nerve in your body. 

“How are you feeling?” his voice vibrates right to your core. Soft and dark like you remember it, though a little rougher now. Gravelly. He studies you, unmoving. “Hopefully well-rested?”

“I feel…. Better.” Finding the words is hard in his presence, especially under the scrutiny of his gaze. You want to dart out of the room and hide, but you also don’t want to leave the library without exploring. “I think I should thank you?”

It comes out as a question and he smirks a little. Your stomach flutters at the sight; he raises a brow. “You’re welcome. Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”

The door shuts behind you and you startle, whirling around to see that Taehyung has left you. Your nerves fray further and you turn back to look at the god watching you. Behind him on the table, you realize it is a feast of sorts. Roasted meats and poultry, platters of fruit, plates of cheese and neatly arranged crackers, steaming pans of vegetables and things you cannot identify. 

He notices. “You must be starving. Come. Eat.” When you don’t move, he sighs. “I didn’t save you just to harm you.” 

It’s true enough. You carefully approach the table, eyeing him as he unclasps his hands and pulls out a chair for you. When you hesitate, he arches a dark brow again and you feel yourself grow warm in the face, muttering your thanks as you hurry over to the chair and sit down. 

The god’s presence is buzzing. He doesn’t touch you, but it’s like you feel him anyway, just an inch away from you. He helps you slide your chair in and gives a deep, contented sigh before he moves toward the opposite end of the table, taking the dull hum of energy with him. 

Across the table, he sits. His gaze finds yours again as you stare at him, finding it difficult to look anywhere else. Even with the smell of a divine meal, your attention on him is a fixed point. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, casual and confident. 

“Have what you like,” he offers. “I don’t know what you enjoy and I didn’t want to pry.”

The table is full of options. You chew the inside of your cheek. There is glazed duck and roasted ham, creamy looking potatoes and sauced vegetables. Your stomach growls and twists painfully as you stare at your choices. 

“The duck is good,” he offers gently. You glance up. He nods towards the dish in question. “Sorry, it’s probably overwhelming.”

“A little,” you answer, but take him up on his advice and go for the duck. “Where are we?”

“In between.”

You frown as you plate different foods, fingers sticky as you do. You’re hyper-aware of him watching you and you try not to look up, feeling your hands quake as you add roasted veggies to your plate. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does. We’re at the in-between of all things. Not a solid place in your sense of understanding. It’s not a physical manifestation of a land mass, but it is a world that contains physical things.” 

“A… dimension?”

“Exactly. This is my domain.”

“And what… are you?”

You look up at him then. His lips twitch at the corners and he tongues the inside of his cheek. “A god. But you already knew that.”

“Wanted to hear you say it.” 

Silence falls between you as you pick up a knife and fork, cutting carefully into your meat. You pop it between your lips, sighing when the duck melts on your tongue with the taste of honey and something else. You sag in the chair, not realizing until now how tense you had been to this point. The food sends a wave of warmth through you and the god watches as you take a few bites, patient as you eat.

“This is fantastic,” you say, glancing at him as you reach for a glass of water. “The flavors are like nothing I’ve ever had.”

“I assure you that all things here are like nothing you’ve ever had.” You hum in agreement, taking another eager bite. You cannot imagine anything in the real world tasting this succulent. You almost wonder if perhaps this is all a dream. “You didn’t pray before you began to eat.”

Your chewing pauses. He’s bemused, giving you a sideways grin with his brows raised. You swallow thickly and say, “Praying never got me anywhere until recently. Why did you help me?”

“Because you asked.”

“You didn’t have to, though.”

It isn’t a question. He answers anyway. “I didn’t.”

“So why did you? The other gods have never helped me.”

“The other gods aren’t me.” His voice is soft and lethal, raising the hair on your arms. “We are not all the same, and you’d do well to not make any further comparisons moving forward.” 

You lower your gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Gods are fickle beings. We are quick to offend and slow to let go. You don’t know any better and are thus forgiven.” 

“What do I call you?”

For a moment, he hesitates. You think he isn’t going to answer just as he says, “Yoongi. You can call me Yoongi.”

“Is that your name?” 

“It’s one of them.” 

“How many names do you have?”

He chuckles. It’s a delightful sound and you smile, watching him lean his head back against his chair, looking up as he shrugs. “How much time do you have?”

Time. 

Suddenly, you remember that you aren’t here on this god - Yoongi’s - good graces. You’re here because you called for someone in a moment of need and he agreed to help you, but at a cost. Your time. He had asked for your time, and a sense of anxiety tiptoes its way up your spine as you think about the ambiguity of his deal. 

Swallowing harshly, you shift back in your seat. The food in your stomach feels a little heavy, far too rich for you to eat more than a few bites. You’ve only ever known your parents’ staples of meat, bread, cheese, and root vegetables. 

“When you saved me,” you begin. “You made a deal with me.”

“I did.”

“My freedom in exchange for my time.”

His eyes are glittering as he watches you, completely still. The fireplace next to you crackles. It makes shadows dance across his face, giving him the appearance of something wild and untamed. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch him, this godly being, as he stares you down. 

“That was the deal,” he finally hums. His head cocks to the side a little. “I don’t usually discuss business over dinner.”

“I’m done eating.”

He huffs but doesn’t seem annoyed. “Perhaps tea, then? It will help settle your stomach.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know that my stomach needs settling?” 

“I know a lot of things.” Yoongi rises and gestures to the chairs directly in front of the fireplace. You stand, following his lead. There’s a quiver of energy in the air and you pause, turning to look back at the table to see it’s completely bare, no trace of anything left. You whip around to look at Yoongi as he sits in a wingback chair. “I can do a lot of things.”

A steaming cup of tea sits on a wooden table next to the chair you sink into. The cushions are soft, swallowing you in and making your muscles melt. The cup is warm when you pick it up, steam curling off the surface. Sniffing, your eyes flutter as you inhale the smell of mint. 

“What are you the god of?” You open your eyes and look at him. Both of his feet are planted flat on the floor, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He looks a little stiff, more so than he did at dinner. Orange firelight reflects in his inky eyes. “You’re a god of the dark.” 

“There’s no such thing,” he scoffs, and you frown. “Your concept of gods is skewed. There is neither good nor evil, light nor dark. There are just gods.” 

“So it doesn’t matter who you pray to?”

“We don’t need your patronage. If we did, we wouldn’t be gods, would we?” You’d never thought of it that way. You sip your tea, letting the warmth and sharp mint bloom in your mouth. “We’re beyond the simple classification that mortals use to understand and organize what they think our intentions are. I have been classed as both good and evil, light and dark, benevolent and malevolent.”

“But surely there are things that are inherently evil, even among the gods.”

“Of course there isn’t. Evil is a point of view. It is a word used to define the feeling one has when the opposite of their desire occurs.” 

“I… guess that makes sense. But isn’t something like murder wrong?”

“Are you not the villain of the duck you ate today?” You blanch. Yoongi looks smug as he gestures vaguely with his hands. “Are you not evil for calling down the wrath of a god on Nathaniel Laudermill?”

“He was going to kill me.”

“You rejected his hand in marriage. You did the opposite of what he desired. I believe in his eyes, you are the evil. Is Death evil for doing what he was made to do?” 

Yoongi’s words make your head spin. You gulp a mouthful of scalding tea before setting it on the table next to you, your mind reeling. The realization that you’re sitting in a library with a starry ceiling arguing over morals and the concept of evil with a god who has saved you from certain death makes you giggle. 

He seems surprised by your sudden outburst, raising his brows as you cover your mouth, your fingers pressed to your lips as you try to contain your sudden mirth. “Sorry. This seems absolutely insane. I’m arguing over the word ‘evil’ with a god in a realm that is everywhere and nowhere at all. It feels like perhaps I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not. Though your dreams are dizzying and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You should be proud of them.” You furrow your brows. How does he know what you dream of? Before you can ask him to clarify, Yoongi says, “You wanted to discuss the deal.”

“Oh. Right. What did you mean by wanting my time in exchange for my freedom?”

“It’s simple. I want you to spend two weeks each month here.” 

Yoongi’s words sink in as you look at the window behind him. Outside, the world is sinking into what you think might be night. The sky is swimming with stars and constellations, stuck in a perpetual twilight of sorts. You’re reminded that somehow, Yoongi is like the moon and the night itself, especially when you find his dark gaze on you as he waits for your response. 

“Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company.” 

“That’s it? You just want me to hang out in exchange for saving me?” He nods. “That seems too easy.” 

His lips curve upward. “Maybe I’m very annoying.” 

For some reason you think it might not be true. You think of all the things that you’ve heard about the gods. Yoongi tells you that everything you know about them is wrong, but you know that the gods of the dark are tricksters. They are experts in the art of luring mortals in, and you wonder if that’s what he’s doing now. 

“Does it have to be consecutive weeks?” you ask, trying to bide time to collect your thoughts and work out his intentions. “Or can it be a collective?”

“Consecutive.” 

“What… what happens when I go home? With my family.”

Yoongi’s face grows stormy. You shift in your seat. “You’re under my protection,” he says after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll bear a mark that protects you. No one will force their will upon you again.”

“Can you?”

He shakes his head, long hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He looks haunting in the firelight, but beautiful. You avert your gaze, fixating on the books in the room instead. “You have my word, I will never control you. I promised you freedom, that includes me.” 

“But I have to be here. I can’t escape from that. Is that freedom?”

“You made that decision of your own free will. It’s your words that bind you here, not mine. While you’re here, you are able to do whatever it is you desire. In fact, I encourage it.” 

“Wording is really important to you, isn’t it?”

He chuckles and inclines his head, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “It is. Consider the first day of your deal already spent. You slept most of it off while you healed.” Yoongi stands, drawing your attention to him. “Sleep more,” he insists gently. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a tour.”

The thought of a tour - and seeing Yoongi for more days - thrills you. Taehyung appears at the doorway as Yoongi escorts you out. He wishes you goodnight and lets Taehyung take you back to your room, though you feel his gaze and presence as you leave. 

It isn’t until you’re back in your room that you realize you never asked Yoongi how long your deal is supposed to last. It occurs to you that while he has given you a sort of freedom, perhaps he has taken something from you after all. 

-

Tall trees surround you. Above them, you can make out a swirling sky of stars and planets and several moons, so bright that it turns the forest a shade of blue. The woods around you are familiar, and there’s a well-walked path just ahead of you that leads to the river by your home. You’ve walked among these trees and creatures hundreds of times, but never with a sky like this.

Crickets chirp as you walk through the woods now. Grass tickles your bare feet, the earth soft and damp beneath you. It smells like fresh rain, but there’s no flood or mud as you navigate by instinct. 

It’s peaceful out here. How many times have you come here to escape your father’s rage? How many times have you sat, back pressed against a tree, watching the light fade from the world until it was too dark to see where you were going? You always managed to get home safely, even with the lack of light. 

The river rushes a few yards ahead. You pick a spot to sit and watch, beneath the cover of leaves. The sound of running water and the smell of rain on the wind lulls you into a trance and you close your eyes, resting for a while. 

Here is where you find peace. Where you dream. 

Awareness creeps up on you and you open your eyes, looking upward as you sense someone approaching. Yoongi stands next to you, onyx eyes gazing at the river. He’s in black clothes like before, his hands tucked into his pockets. You smell clove and cinnamon, making you dizzy. Power radiates off of him but it feels warm and safe. Like the night air itself comes from his existence. 

“Am I dreaming?” you ask him. He looks down at you, an obsidian strand of hair falling in his face. He nods, giving you a gentle smile. “This is often where I go to dream.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer you. He looks back to the rushing river, his face becoming unreadable. He looks like he’s somewhere far away, lost in his thoughts. Absently, he says, “Your dreams are my favorite.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are bright, full of life and color and sound. You dream the way people create art, the way people create worlds. It is rare to see such magnificence among the sleeping.” 

“I just…” you shrug. “Think of places I would rather be.” 

Yoongi looks at you then and his face is shadowed, full of thunder. “You’ll never be forced to live that life again.” 

“Do you promise?” 

He opens and closes his mouth, narrowing his eyes a little before shaking his head. You feel a smile tug at your mouth, endeared by his microexpressions. “Yes, little lamb. I promise.”

-

You wake with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around. The room spins as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your physical and mental awareness completely out of sync as you swivel your head, drinking in the unfamiliar room and the soft sheets that smell like clove and cinnamon. 

For a moment, you forget where you are, and adrenaline surges through you. Your fingers twist in the sheets as you ground yourself, memories from the day before slotting into place. Letting out a long exhale, you relax, flopping backward in the opulent bed, your heart rate slowing down as your panic bleeds out of you. 

You’re in Yoongi’s home. In a place that is somewhere in between - whatever that means. The god has told you on multiple occasions that you’re safe and have nothing to fear from him and for some reason…. You believe him. Maybe it’s naive, but you can’t erase the feeling that Yoongi is being honest with you, that he has good intentions. 

Perhaps it’ll get you into trouble one day. For now, you cast off doubt and peel yourself out of bed, trailing to the windowed doors that lead to the balcony beyond. You try the handle and are delighted to find them unlocked. Slipping through the doors, you’re met with warm, balmy air. It smells like petrichor, the breeze kissing your skin gently.

Like before, the world seems wrapped in permanent twilight. There is no sun in the sky, but a vast stretch of swimming stars and the largest moon you’ve ever seen. In the distance, dark mountains loom over you, their peaks capped in snow and wreathed in mist. 

Forest stretches out toward them in a vibrant shade of green. There’s a settee on the balcony along with a table and chairs. Leaning on the stone railing, you look down to see colorful gardens and a large pond full of vibrant fish.

All of the radiance makes you smile. You’ve never seen colors so rich, and you’re unable to recall if your world was this vibrant. The garden below is bursting with violet and cerulean, the flowers unfamiliar to you. Their fragrant smell wafts up to the balcony, a hint of sweetness in the air. 

A roll of thunder catches your attention. You look to the east, noticing that one of the mountains in the distance is darker than the others. Lightning crackles in the sky around it and the mist is heavier there. You think the trees are darker too, though you can’t tell if they’re gray or if it’s the shade from the swollen thunderheads drifting over them. 

Behind you, the door to the balcony opens and startles you. Whirling around, you find Taehyung leaning against the frame, mouth curved upwards in a sideways grin. “When you didn’t answer the door I got worried.”

“I thought I was safe here? What is there to be worried about?”

He shrugs. “Maybe you took a dive off of the balcony.”

“What is that place?” you point to the thundering, shrouded mountain. Taehyung looks where you point, his smile dropping as he stares at the looming peak. “By the look on your face, somewhere bad.”

“Bad is a relative term.” 

You scrunch your nose. “You sound like Yoongi.”

“Already familiar, are we? Cute.” He pushes off the door frame and beckons you inside. “Ask Yoongi about it on your tour.”

“Are you not coming along?”

“I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not give tours.”

If it weren’t for Taehyung’s playful tone and glint in his eye when he casts you a glance, you’d think you were bothering him. Instead of getting angry, he drapes himself on one of the couches by the fireplace, long legs dangling off the arm as he lounges.

Today, he’s in charcoal colored pants and a red, billowing shirt that shows off the smooth, tan skin of his chest. A dangling earring catches your attention as he leans his head back, silky hair shifting. If Yoongi is made of moonlight, you think that Taehyung might be made of sunlight: golden skin, warm energy. 

“By all means,” you mutter. “Hang out.” 

“This is my home first, human. I shall do as I please.”

You make a sound at the back of your throat and roll your eyes, walking toward a large, polished wardrobe made from dark wood. It smells like fresh cedar when you pull on the brass handle, opening the door to reveal tunics and dresses, all hung neatly. 

Rich silks, velvets and cottons greet you. You run your hand over the materials, amazed at how soft they feel. They are far better quality than your mother ever had access to. Your heart squeezes when you think of her, and you shake your head a little as if to physically dispel thoughts of your family out of your mind.

Facing them seems like an impossible task. You know that you’ll have to eventually. Two weeks with Yoongi in this strange world seems like a long time, but you’re not sure if it’s nearly long enough to mentally prepare to go back and face them after what’s happened. Will they still be angry? What will they say? Will they have been worried about you all this time?

There’s no way to know the answer. So instead, you pretend none of that exists. For once, you have stumbled into a dream and adventure like you’ve always wanted, and you intend on playing the part. 

An emerald shirt catches your eye. It’s made of a silky material, supple when you rub the sleeve between your fingers. It’s plain, save for the laced string at the throat to cinch and tie it off. You grab a pair of black, cotton pants as well, the fabric just as soft as the sheets in your bed. 

With Taehyung humming on the couch, you let yourself into the bathroom to change. You appreciate that the floor is warm wherever you go barefoot, and you quickly slide out of your clothes from the previous day and into the new ones. The measurements are a little off, but more than manageable as you pull the tie closed at your throat. Glancing into the mirror, you can’t help but smile a little.

You look so different. The shirt belongs to someone adventurous, you think. Perhaps a pirate or a huntress riding atop her horse through the woods. You slide your fingers along the material, its softness inviting and magical. 

Two weeks. You’ll be here for two weeks with Yoongi, a god who has been alive for hundreds of years, if your conversation from the night before was anything to go off of. It feels surreal and you’re a little nervous, but more than that, you’re excited.

Suddenly, the world is full of possibilities. No marriage to tie you down, no power held in your parents’ hands. 

 “Gods you’re slow to get dressed,” Taehyung announces when you enter the room. He sits up, appraising your outfit. “Green looks good on you.”

“How many are there?” he cocks his head at your question, peeling himself from the seat. “Gods and goddesses, I mean.”

“Pfft. Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” 

“Maybe thousands, I don’t really know. There’s basically an infinite amount of universes. All anyone mostly cares about are the Eternals, the gods who remain the same no matter what name or history mortals assign to them.”

“Eternals?”

“Mhmm.” Taehyung leads you into the hallway. His hands are tucked into his pockets as he strolls leisurely. You follow beside him eagerly, looking up as he seems thoughtful. “Gods are hard to define. They are great beings with massive power. Some gods do the same thing, some don’t. They come from the infinite amount of worlds to which they are native, and somehow make it into mortal history. But the Eternals have always been here, always known. They do not change.”

“Who are the Eternals?”

“Life, death, chaos, time, pathos, dream and fate.” He makes a face then. “Fate and chaos are hard. They work in direct opposition to one another. It drives time insane, naturally.”

Seven Eternals. It makes sense, from a logical standpoint. Every world must have life and death and the passing of time. Where there exists a living thing, there exists a vessel of emotion and dreams. In all worlds there is the potential for chaos disrupting fate. 

“Yoongi is an Eternal?”

Taehyung glances sidelong at you, smug. “Yes, Yoongi is an Eternal.”

“Why do you look at me like that when I say his name?” Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead smirking as if he’s enjoying a private joke. Your fists close and open as you swallow down a demand to tell you what he finds so amusing. “Which one is he?”

“Have you no guesses?”

That makes you think. Recalling the night before, you remember the way Yoongi looks: dark eyes swimming with something magical, a soft and raspy voice, the way he appeared in your dreams. 

Though your dreams are mesmerizing and far more colorful than anyone else I know. You recall what he said about your dreams, the way he leveled his gaze at you, full of meaning that you didn’t understand. 

“Dreams,” you say, certain that you're right. “He’s the Eternal of Dreams?”

“He isn’t of dreams. He is Dream.”

You’re unable to clarify Taehyung’s emphasis on Yoongi being a deity of dreams as he opens the door to the same library as before. This time, he doesn’t knock. When you step inside, you realize it’s because the room is empty. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen, though pale light filters in through the windows. It’s still forever twilight outside, yet a little lighter. It feels like morning, even if it does not entirely appear to be morning. 

Behind you, the door shuts. You turn to see Taehyung has left without another word, leaving you entirely alone in the captivating space. 

Without hesitation, you walk to the nearest shelf housing rows and rows of books. The spines range from muted browns and neutrals to bright reds and rich blues. Velvet books, leather books, canvas, silk. There is no shortage of materials making up each one, letters painted, printed or stitched down the back of them to denote what they are. 

Each one breathes a world of possibility as you drag your finger along the shape of them. You wonder how many worlds and histories are scribbled away in the pages of this room, the very idea of it overwhelming. 

Trinkets and objects you’re unfamiliar with line the shelves as well. Your fingers trace their shape and you wonder what they are. One object in particular catches your eye in the corner of the room. It stands on three metal legs and has large, interlocking rings that spin lazily in some unknown pattern. The rings are hammered metal and appear to have markings engraved on them.

The device slowly spins of its own accord. Upon inspection, there seems to be nothing else responsible for its motion except magic or science that is beyond you. You can see that there are seven metal rings and different markings on each of them, but you cannot guess what the engravings read. 

“It represents the balance of the Eternals. Taehyung mentioned you had a vague starting point as to what I am.”

Yoongi’s deep voice makes you leap and screech, spinning on your heels to face him. Your hand flies to your chest and you can feel your heartbeat rattling wildly. Yoongi stands a few feet away from you, hands linked behind his back and eyebrows raised at your reaction. 

He’s dressed similar to the night before, though a little more casual. His black pants are tucked into knee high boots, and his black shirt is loose fitted with silver stitching around the collar. You notice that it’s in patterns of stars and moons, furthering your confirmation that Yoongi is associated with dreams in some manner. 

Yoongi’s long hair is pulled half out of his face today, tied away in a bun. The rest of his hair brushes the tops of his shoulders as his inky eyes regard you patiently. His curiosity makes you feel warm all over and you drop your hands to your sides, fingers twitching. 

“How so?” you ask. You turn back to the device. “What does it run on?”

“Our energy. Each ring represents a member of my family. The speed at which they turn represents the balance among us. When the speed is off, the balance is off.”

“What causes the balance to be off?” 

Yoongi steps closer to you. You hold your breath as he does it, but you can feel his presence like a buzzing vibration at the back of your neck.

His voice is softer when he answers, “A number of things. Sometimes some of us aren’t always performing the way we should be. Other times, we’re overperforming. Or fighting, really, as siblings are wont to do.”

“I don’t know what that’s like.”

“You’re not missing much. Especially when your siblings are as ancient and never ending as you are.” 

“How… old are you?”

You look at Yoongi to see he’s standing next to you now. He looks at you, face impassive as he lifts a shoulder. “How old is the earth? How old is existence? It’s hard to say.” 

“Where do you come from?”

“Chaos was first. Life and Death were next, twins born of the sudden whims of Chaos. I was next, for Life often dreamed. Time was always there, though no one knows if Time or Chaos came first. Pathos and Fate came later.”

You nod, though you don’t fully understand the scope of how old and fathomless the existence of things like chaos and time and dreams are. It makes your head spin, trying to conceptualize the thing next to you who looks very much like an ordinary man being something so ancient and primordial that he precedes human existence entirely. 

“You’re overwhelmed,” he notes, a bit of amusement in his voice. “I don’t blame you. The best way to understand it is that I am a living concept that can never be destroyed, so long as there exists something to dream about.” 

Crossing his arms in front of him, Yoongi clasps his hands and gives you a slight smile. He has a pretty smile, you realize. Delicate and almost shy. It makes your heart flutter and you mentally chastise yourself for thinking that a being of eternal dreams can possibly be shy. 

“How about a tour? Our deal is that you’ll spend two weeks a month here. I’d love for you to feel like this is a place you can be familiar with, if not something akin to a home.”

“Home?”

His smile grows. “If that word ever seems fitting, sure.”

Home. The word makes you think about what home means to you and suddenly you feel a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. Flashes of a flooded forest, lighting lancing across the sky, hands gripping you tight and shoving you under the water. 

“Um,” you clear your throat. “So a tour.”

Yoongi’s eyes glitter as he grins and turns, using a hand to gesture to the wide library. “This is the main library, but we’ll end our tour here. Let’s go through the gardens first, it’s nice weather.”

Yoongi starts without you, leaving you to stand staring after him as he goes. His gait is smooth and confident. He presses on a pane of glass that you realize is a door. A breeze teases the loose pieces of his hair, carrying the familiar scent of clove and cinnamon toward you. 

For a moment, you stare after him. Yoongi being a deity of dreams makes so much sense in this moment, stepping into the twilight, face tilted upward slightly as though he’s soaking up the sun. He looks radiant. Tranquil. When he turns to look at you expectantly, his rose pink mouth quirks sideways. 

“Right,” you say, hurrying to follow him. “Outside is where we start.” 

When you pass him, you get the sense that Yoongi wants to tease you further. Instead, he says nothing and leads you into the gardens. A cobblestone path leads from the door through wisteria trees, their amethyst leaves swooping down and filling the air with sweet fragrance. 

Up above, the sky is a mix of blue and purple, thousands of stars twinkling. There is a stone bench near one of the windows of the library, but Yoongi leads you away from the palace and down the path under the trees. The air is crisp and pleasant, cooling your anxious, sweat-slick skin. 

Yoongi links his hands behind his back. “This is the library garden,” he informs you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s mostly wisteria trees, which are my favorite to walk through when I need to think.”

“They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Much different from the woods outside of your home.”

“You know the woods outside of my home?”

“You called me there, remember?” You blanch at the memory, but if he notices, Yoongi says nothing. “Besides, I’m familiar with the woods that surround your home. Your village pays homage to my brother.”

“Your brother?”

He hums. “Life. Perhaps they don’t know that it’s him they pray to, but they do.”

Taking a left, Yoongi leads you on a looping path through the massive wisteria trees. They’re larger than anything you’ve ever seen, their bows sweeping monoliths of purple, trunks thick as boulders. A strange creature sits on the branches of one of the trees, making you stop and stare. 

A tiny, carnelian creature sits on a bough, bright against the lavender background of the leaves. It has four legs and scaled feet, sharp talons cutting into the bark as it keeps its balance in the tree. Small wings are folded on its back, bony limbs with paper-thin skin between them, a lighter red than the rest of its body. A long tail snakes around the branch, holding the creature in place as its long neck extends, head tilting to look at you curiously.

“Is that a dragon?” you whisper, staring at it.

You’ve only heard them described in stories, but you don’t really know what they look like. It has scales like a lizard and it blinks two large eyes at you, entirely black. There are small horns on its head, and a forked tongue snakes out as it tastes the air. 

“She’s a fey dragon,” Yoongi hums, looking up at the creature with a smile. “And she’s not supposed to be in the trees here, are you?”

A puff of smoke curls from the dragon’s nose as it huffs, making you take a step backward. Yoongi lets out a deep laugh that makes a tingle rattle down your spine and your toes curl. The sound is like smoke and velvet, heady in the air. 

“She won’t hurt you,” Yoongi assures, shaking his head to continue walking under the dragon’s branch. “She’s a pesky little thing, but she is incredibly sweet. Fey dragons are much smaller than their firedrake cousins and less dangerous than their basilisk relatives.”

With your eyes cast upward, you hurry after Yoongi, keeping your gaze on the large lizard as you run under the branch. Her dark eyes follow you, unblinking and fathomless. The hair on your arms stands up and you can’t help but feel that despite the dragon being small and what Yoongi calls harmless, it is incredibly intelligent. 

“There are dragons here?” 

“There is everything here.”

You frown, finally turning away from the dragon as you leave it behind. “That’s confusing. Everything as in…?”

“When you dream, you have limitless potential. You can go anywhere, be anything, see any creature. Dreams even invent things that do not exist in the natural world. Creatures, stories, songs, words, plants. The possibility for creation in a dream is limitless, and this place is the essence of dreams. It is me.”

“So you are this place and the place is you?”

He seems thoughtful before nodding. “More or less. This is a dream realm as much as it is a collection of ideas, thoughts and hopes. Everything that every living creature has ever dreamed about walks these lands.”

“Even nightmares?”

Yoongi pulls up short and whips his head at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to meet his eyes under his severe expression. In the distance, you swear you hear thunder. An apology springs to your lips, but before you can give it, Yoongi nods sharply once and begins walking again.

“Nightmares too. Do not speak of nightmares here, lest they come searching.”

You think about Taehyung telling you that you were safe but being concerned when you didn’t answer the door earlier that morning. A chill seeps into your bones as you rejoin Yoongi on your walk, his pace not as relaxed now. 

“They come searching?” you try, a little curious, a little afraid. 

“Yes. They are different from dreams. Unpredictable in a way I admire and dislike.” He glances sidelong at you. “They have a mind of their own. You are safe with me always, but it’s best practice to not think of them while you’re here. This world has a way of manifesting.”

For a few moments, you walk in silence. You let your questions fall silent as you look around. The two of you exit the wisteria trees to see a large pond. A single, massive wisteria sits on its western edge with a bench underneath it. 

The surface of the pond is dark and smooth, reflecting the swirling stars in the sky. Yoongi leads you around the mirror surface and points out the mountains in the distance that you could see from your windows. 

“Mountains of Sleep,” he tells you. “It is where all beings who are ready for their eternal rest come to dream for the remainder of their existence. They are also called the Mountains of Divinity, for there are hundreds of divine immortals among their peaks.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Not all beings rest here. Some prefer their own planes and resting grounds. But this existed before those places, and has long been used for the tired and the weary who are ready to retire.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. The dead cannot come here.” He hesitates. “When they do, it is because they are not a dream.”

You get the sense that Yoongi is talking about nightmares again and you shiver as he takes you around the pond. “Don’t let anything in that body of water convince you to go swimming. They won’t intentionally hurt you but they don’t understand the concept of human life.”

“They?”

“They don’t have a name. They are water-folk who were dreamt up by someone once. I admire them and they’re beautiful and wicked smart, but they’re a bit cheeky.”

“I’m starting not to feel as safe as you said I was.”

Yoongi stops and frowns. He lifts a hand as though he’s about to touch your arm before he thinks better of it and drops it at his side. You realize you’re disappointed that he did before mentally kicking yourself, feeling a little ashamed to be so affected by a god. You’re sure Yoongi gets it often, but it makes you feel silly nonetheless. 

“You are safe.” He lowers his head a little, catching your gaze. Though his eyes are midnight black, you swear you see the stars above reflected in their dark pools. “But there are rules everywhere. This place has them just the same as your home did. You were relatively safe there, but there were rules.”

“And then I broke them and Nathaniel tried to murder me.”

“Nathaniel was dealt with and will never touch you again.” Thunder rolls in the distance and your heart flutters at the vehemence with which Yoongi says this. “The misdeeds of your family cannot chase you here.”

You don’t press Yoongi on the matter. Instead, you let him proceed with the tour, keeping your questions to a minimum as you wonder what Yoongi meant by Nathaniel being dealt with. You recall the soft, susurrated voice against your ear when Yoongi found you. The gentle brush of something like a kiss to your neck. The rage and power as he stepped in front of you to face Nathaniel when the deal was done.

It does not require much to make an assumption about Yoongi’s meaning. 

The yards of his palace are sprawling and full of color. Gardens with flowers he doesn’t know the name of but said a little girl had dreamed them and he liked them so he made more. Butterflies with colors you didn’t know existed flitting from plant to plant. Fruit orchards with the ripest, reddest apples you’ve ever seen. 

And the palace. It is the only word you have for it. The building is several stories tall, hewn from dark stone with at least five different towers. Starlight glitters in the windows as Yoongi guides you up the stairs toward the massive double doors that lead to the main entrance of the castle. On the door handle are two wrought-iron griffons with proud faces. 

Without a touch, the doors open on Yoongi’s arrival. You wonder if the building responds to his presence as the door swings open for the two of you. Inside, the foyer is as magnificent as the library, a lush purple carpet rolling over stone floors. 

In the center of the room is a massive spiral staircase. Looking up, you see that it goes all the way up the floors of the palace, dizzying circles of floor after floor. Yoongi explains there are other ways to go all the way up to the top throughout the castle but this is the easiest way, though he assures you that by the third floor you’d be out of breath. 

Each room Yoongi shows you is opulent and warm. Rich, deep wooden furniture, paintings with dark splashes of amethyst, scarlet and gold. Rooms for tea, rooms for painting, rooms for music, rooms for dancing. Yoongi has a room for everything, sometimes occupied by strange little creatures that hide when you walk in or curious things that lift their heads when they see him. 

No one else besides Taehyung seems to be there, though. You come across felines, little balls of light that bounce around Yoongi excitedly and light him up like a burst of flame, a little furry thing that you think is a fox but in a shade of shocking sapphire, and a massive wolf with eyes like ice that blink apathetically at you as you walk by. But never once do you see another person. Even Taehyung seems to be amiss. 

“Does no one else live here?” Yoongi takes you through another room empty of people and things. “It’s so empty.” 

He takes his time to answer as you leave the room and move into the hallway. It’s hard to tell which way you’re going, but you think that you’re headed toward the library again. Your legs ache from going up and down the stairs on an endless tour of rooms, and you’re eager to be in the library once more. 

“There used to be,” Yoongi says slowly. “But people don’t tend to do well in places that they don’t belong.”

“So you’re all alone here?”

His smile is sad. “I have Taehyung.” He pauses before he adds, “And now you.”

I’m often very alone. It would be nice to have some company. You think of Yoongi’s words from the night before and suddenly you’re filled with sadness. Sadness for this ancient being, who seems so gentle and quiet. Who lives alone in this giant castle with all of the world’s dreams around him and no one to share them with. 

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “How do you know I belong?”

“Pardon?”

“Do I? Belong, I mean. You wouldn’t… have me here if I wouldn’t do well, right?”

“No one dreams the way you do.” He says this firmly. Confident. Fierce. “I believe there is nothing you wouldn’t be able to find here.”

“Do you always know what I dream about?” 

“No. But you dream… loudly. Colorfully. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore. I don’t like to pry, though.” 

“Can you see everyone’s dreams?”

“Mhmm. I even make some.”

This catches your attention and you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. He glances down where your fingers touch his skin, your fingers buzzing where you’re connected. You flush with warmth and drop your hand, clearing your throat at how forward grabbing him was. 

Yoongi is smirking when you ask, “Can you show me?”

“One day, yes. For now, the end of the tour and lunch.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach rumbles. His grin spreads into a full smile and Yoongi leads you back to the library. Again, the doors open without his touch and as you pass them, you study them for any sign of an auto-opening mechanism but find none. 

Yoongi’s magic appears limitless. You remember the food disappearing from dinner, the swell of power as Yoongi agreed to save you, and his sudden appearance as you were drowning. You know nothing about the god of dreams or what he’s capable of, but you’re awed at how easy it comes to him. 

“This is the main library.” Yoongi turns around to face you, sweeping his arms out on either side of him. “There are two others: one in my room and one located in the dream tower.”

“You didn’t show me the dream tower.”

“I’ll show you when you’re ready.” 

Unsure what ready means to Yoongi, you look around the library. Same as the night before, the shelves are crammed full of books and scrolls, so much paper and ink that it makes you lightheaded with excitement. It still smells of lemon and wax, though as you pass Yoongi to go to a shelf, you’re overcome with clove and cinnamon again. 

Trying to ignore the shiver that merely walking by Yoongi gives you, you brush the spines of books once again, feeling their potential under your fingertips. 

“You always have access to this library. You can read what you like.”

A pang goes through you and you drop your hand. Without looking at him, you mumble, “Thank you, but I can’t read.”

No response comes. You stare unseeing at the books before taking a breath to turn your head and steal a glance at Yoongi. You expect some sort of amusement or perhaps pity, but his face is unreadable, jaw working.

“That’s okay,” he finally says. “We will teach you. After lunch we will make a schedule to help fill your time here. Reading and writing lessons will be a part of that.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Do you mean that?”

“Do you want to learn?” You nod your head eagerly. He grins gently. “Then we will teach you.” 

-

Yoongi’s eyes are dark as he presses forward. Your breath catches in your chest as you lay back, looking up at him with your lips parted, heart hammering in your chest. He settles his waist against you, the weight of him pressing you into your bed as you lay back. 

He is so beautiful that it puts you in a daze, staring up into his face as he leans over you. His hair is pulled back, but a few dark strands hang loose. His mouth is stained red with wine, making you want to lean forward and taste his lips and feel their softness. 

Tentatively, you reach a hand up and brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear. You don’t stop touching him, though, hand cradling his flushed face. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your palm as you cup his cheek, thumb sweeping back and forth. 

“Is this what you dream of?” he whispers, eyes remaining closed. “Being under me, like this?”

Dreaming. You realize you’re dreaming. You jolt and suddenly, you’re alone. 

-

“Your handwriting is terrible,” Taehyung admits, looming over your shoulder. You grip the quill tighter, nearly snapping it in two. “But you learn unbelievably fast. How many of these letters do you think you have consistently memorized?” 

Taehyung is in charge of your writing lessons today and you already want to kill him. It’s been five days of your new residency in the House of Dreams, as Yoongi calls it, and you’ve quickly learned that Taehyung is equally charming and playful as he is outright vexing. 

Instead of turning to give him a very harsh poke in the arm with your quill, you scan the shapes in front of you. There are twenty-six of them, all awkwardly slanted and misshapen where you’ve used too much ink or not enough. Using a quill and ink feels alien to your hand and your fingers struggle to remember the proper way to hold it as you draw your letters. 

“I think most of them,” you answer slowly, mentally sounding out each word on the page in your head as you go. “But there are a few of them that confuse me. The lowercase ‘d’ and ‘b’ I find nearly impossible to recall and ‘v’ and ‘u’ are rather frustrating.” 

“Whenever you see a ‘u’, think of it as having a scoop. Sc-uuup.” Taehyung points to a ‘u’ on the page and mimics the scooping motion. “Might be easier to associate the sound scoop with ‘u’ even though the word itself doesn’t have a ‘u’.” 

The desperate look you give him makes him laugh as you struggle to imagine why a word with a ‘u’ sound doesn’t actually contain the letters. You’re saved from Taehyung’s maddening - but helpful - instruction as Yoongi walks into the library. 

“You’d better not be laughing at her again.” 

Taehyung steps away from you and bows his head toward Yoongi. “I’m laughing with her. We’re just sharing amusement over the hypocrisy of letters.”  

“Yeah,” you deadpan. “It’s hilarious.”

Today, Yoongi is in a deep, amethyst colored shirt. It’s laced at the throat with the familiar moon and stars that he has stitched on much of his clothing, and his hair down and long, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. As always, he’s in dark pants and boots today, the sound of them clicking on the stone floor as he nudges Taehyung out of the way to peer over your shoulder. 

You tense. Being around Yoongi for the last five days has been intoxicating. It is bad enough that you get distracted during your lessons by the way his voice rumbles when he speaks and the way he chews his lips when working on his own things while you study. It’s worse that now he invades your dreams, whispering in your ear and hands wandering over your curves, sinful mouth brushing over your skin and leaving you to jolt awake in bed covered in sweat.

The very idea that Yoongi knows what you're dreaming of drives you to the edge of insanity. He’d promised he preferred to avoid your dreams, but you wonder if he knows. Knows that you have developed an insatiable habit of fantasizing about his hands, or about the tone of his voice. 

Gripping your quill tight, you hold your breath when he leans over you. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel the heat of him and smell him, cinnamon and clove making your eyes flutter. If you didn’t know he was the god of dreams, you’d mistake him for the god of lust, if that was a thing.

“Why aren’t you breathing?” You peer upward to see Yoongi looking down at you. If you tilted your head back just a fraction more, you’d be pressed against his chest. Even from upside down, his moon-pale face and cosmos eyes make you want to scream. “Are you alright?”

“Nervous that I’m not performing well.”

His face softens. “You’re a quick learner. Don’t worry about progress and pace.”

“But what if I lose it when I go h- back.” 

Home. That’s what you were going to say. But the idea of home is terrifying. You don’t know what waits for you when you go back. You don’t know what splitting time between two worlds means. You don’t know what you’ll do when you have to spend two weeks there before coming back to Yoongi. 

Five days in Yoongi’s realm has been enough to make you feel like this has always been your life. You fit into the daily routines of Yoongi and Taehyung better than you imagined, and though you still sometimes get lost in the House of Dreams, you discover that you’re adapting. 

There’s always something new to discover, an adventure around the corner. You like learning your letters and the sounds that they make. You love studying the maps in the library and tracing the distances between countries you can’t name and have no idea where they are. 

Most of all, you love exploring. Rooms upon rooms of objects both normal and magical. Creatures that roam freely around the palace - including a clever little fox that has taken interest in following you around as you take breaks from studying by walking around the grounds. 

While Yoongi’s home doesn’t feel like it belongs to you, you’re more afraid to go back to your mother and father than you are to go near the pond at the edge of the wisteria garden. 

So you avoid thinking of going back.

“You’ll practice while you’re there,” Yoongi says, as though it’s the easiest answer in the world. “You have to practice every day.”

“My father won’t- he doesn’t…” You shake your head, unable to get the words out. That your father would strike you to the ground if he found you with books again. “I can’t bring anything back with me.”

“Sure you can.” You glance at him to find his expression is firm. “I told you, you’re under my protection. Things will be very different for you when you go back.”

“How?”

“It’s… difficult to say.” 

Yoongi offers nothing else. You become hyper aware of how close he’s standing to you again and you look down at your letter practicing. With a shaky hand, you dip the quill into the ink, lifting it from the inkwell and letting the excess drip before bringing it over to the paper. 

When Yoongi makes no move to leave, you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and continue tracing. He’s content to watch you as you work. If he knows how distracted this makes you, he doesn’t let on. Perhaps he has no idea that as you scrawl a shaky letter ‘k’, it’s Yoongi who consumes your thoughts. 

Even in your waking hours it seems you’re not rid of him. 

Most of your study sessions are like this, Yoongi watching you so closely that it makes your quill bleed too much ink. He is a passive teacher, letting you come to him with questions instead of correcting you constantly like Taehyung does. Even now, when you hesitate on the next letter of the alphabet, Yoongi doesn’t offer his help. Lets you figure it out. 

You dip the quill in ink and continue. 

After you finish the last shaky letter, you set the quill down, flexing your fingers open and closed. Yoongi makes a satisfied noise and steps away. You turn to see him walking toward the table by the fireplace, which is where you have started to take all your meals. Already, there are platters of food and drinks. Taehyung sits in a chair, plucking a grape from a plate and popping it in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a seat at the head of the table. You push yourself up from your chair, legs aching from sitting so long. “Who said you can eat my grapes?”

“Ugh, I’m tired of eating alone.” 

“Let him stay, Yoongi.” The god looks at you with a glower, bottom lip jutted out slightly. It’s so cute that you can’t help but burst into laughter, hand flying to your mouth. “Sorry, I think you just pouted.” 

“He did.” Taehyung grins and leans back in his chair. “He wants you to himself.”

Yoongi hisses Taehyung’s name, shutting down the teasing immediately. You glance at Yoongi shyly as you sit down but he doesn’t meet your eyes, choosing to laden his plate with food instead. You can’t imagine why Yoongi would want you to himself, especially when all you do is ply him with questions. 

Still, a little bit of a thrill goes through you as you start loading your plate, your gaze drifting toward the deity again as he bites into a strawberry, the juice running down his chin. Your eyes track the movement as his tongue darts out, catching the drip before it escapes too far. 

Yoongi’s mouth is hypnotizing and it takes you a moment too long to realize he’s watching you stare at him. Quickly, you grab a cup and bring water to your lips, gulping the cool water and glancing up at the ceiling, feeling embarrassment bloom like warm liquid through you. 

When you put the cup down, you swear you see Yoongi smiling. 

-

Hungry lips suck at the tender flesh of your neck. You gasp, feeling your toes curl in pleasure, head spinning. Yoongi’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, the drag of his rough tongue soothing over the bites driving you mad. You let out a soft moan, eyes squeezing shut as you writhe under him. 

Yoongi’s large hands pin yours above your head, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he continues to ravish your neck with his hot mouth, tongue and teeth. His hips roll over you and you whine, feeling his hard-on pressing against you. 

Your parents would kill you if they knew you were here like this, trapped under a god of the dark as he sucks on your pulse point, mouth moving upward to nip your ear. Your chest is heaving and you can’t get enough breath, overwhelmed by the scent of cinnamon and clove, by the way his mouth pulls sounds from you so easily. 

Yoongi tears his lips away and looks down at you, eyes so dark and blown out that you think he might devour you, swallow you whole in one bite - 

“You’re dreaming of me again,” he whispers. “I don’t know if you mean to be dreaming of me, like this.” 

You startle, realizing this isn’t real, and the illusion fades. 

-

Twilight skies stretch above you. It’s warm outside, but the night air is cool against your skin, making you shiver as you sit down, folding your legs criss-cross. 

“Are you cold?” Yoongi asks, sitting down on the soft grass next to you. You shake your head, eyes fixed on the low table in front of you that's filled with platters of meats, cheeses and crackers. You eye a glass bottle of red liquid that you think is wine, mouth watering. “Are you sure?”

“Promise, the wind feels nice.” 

He looks doubtful as he sits down next to you, a healthy amount of space between you. 

Tonight, Yoongi has insisted on a late night snack outside under the stars. He seems eager, verging on giddy as he glances up at the sky before reaching for the bottle of red liquid and popping the cork. 

After nearly two weeks in the House of Dreams, you’ve learned that this world is forever twilight, lit up by dreams. Here, day and night don’t exist in their truest forms. There are always millions of people and creatures dreaming at every moment of existence, not limiting Yoongi’s world and power to times of day and night. 

The twilight is beautiful. You’ve grown accustomed to the purple tint to the world, the way that it gets just the barest bit darker outside during certain periods, as though even in a world where night and day don’t exist, there are still two separate halves of time. 

Yoongi passes you a glass. You bring it to your nose and sniff, delighted at the scent of cherries and something else. It’s certainly wine, though you wait for him to pour himself a glass to sip any. 

Earrings dangle in Yoongi’s ears tonight. Each lobe has a small, thin chain with a moon charm on the end that’s studded with sapphires, catching the moonlight as he sets down the bottle and sits back. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down again, leaving his full face in view as he looks at you and gives you a gummy grin that scatters your thoughts. 

“Chaos is moving through the sky tonight,” Yoongi informs you, glancing upward. “When she does, she’s beautiful to see. She doesn’t do it that often, but she’s passing us by on her way to do whatever it is she does somewhere. I wanted you to see.” 

He holds out his drink and you grip yours tight, raising your glass to clink with his like you’ve seen people do at the inn in your village. He turns away from you, bringing his wine to his lips to sip. You follow suit, tentatively tilting your glass.

Sweet cherries bloom on your tongue and you hum in delight. It isn’t just cherries you taste, though. There’s a lush sweetness too, edged with spice, filling your mouth with warmth. You look at Yoongi as you sip and see him watching with a closed-lipped smile, eyes searching your face.

“You like it?” 

You nod and set the glass down. “It’s delicious.” 

“You like sweet things.” 

“And you like salty.” He raises a brow in question. “You’re always going for the salted meats at dinner. And you have salted pork right there,” you point to the meat and cheeseboards. “Do gods get dehydrated?”

“We do not. I didn’t realize you were paying so much attention.” You shrug, picking up your wine to take small sips again. “Anything else you’ve noticed?” 

Everything, you want to say and don’t. You’ve noticed so many things about Yoongi, all of them coming to mind at once. But you don’t want to reveal just how much you’ve watched him over the last two weeks, paying far more attention than is proper. 

You could tell Yoongi how you’ve noticed that he wears seven necklaces exactly, each with a different symbol charm on them that you think corresponds to the seven Eternals. You could tell him that he has the habit of closing his eyes and tilting his face upward, like he’s absorbing moonlight. You know all of his favorite breakfast items, specifically crispy bacon and sugared strawberries. 

And there are other things you could tell him, like in your dreams his lips are soft as sin, his voice low and sultry. You could admit that most nights you feel his grip on your waist and that when you study his hands during your lessons, you can’t help but already know the shape of them. 

Perhaps two weeks back in your village is exactly what you need to get the ridiculous fantasy of this eternal being from your head. You don’t think you could bear the shame of him knowing exactly what living in the in-between realm has done for your imagination in a very unexpected way. 

“You like bacon,” you offer as an answer. “And sugared strawberries. In the evening, whiskey is your favorite. It smells a little bit like honey, but still spicy. And you must work in the dream tower often at night, because the door to the tower smells like clove and cinnamon and you always smell that way.”

Yoongi’s brows shoot up. You hide your expression with your glass of wine, taking a long draught. It hums in your veins, warm and rushing like nothing you’ve ever felt before. When you lower the glass, Yoongi watches you with an intense expression. You meet his gaze, suddenly unable to look away. 

The air feels charged as you stare. His eyes dip down to your mouth a single time, then back up to your eyes. The breeze moves strands of his hair and you smell the hint of clove followed by cinnamon, just as you always do when he’s near. Your heart starts to staccato as the silence presses on. 

A little shriek cuts through the tension like a knife. You flinch and turn around, looking at a red blur of movement burst from the wisteria trees. Tiera lands with a squawk, the fey dragon huffing as grey smoke curls from her lungs. She ignores you entirely as she normally does and skips over to where Yoongi is sitting before she settles next to him, curling like a cat and laying on her tail.

Yoongi laughs. “Hello, Tiera.” The dragon chuffs and lets out another puff of smoke. “Are you not going to say hello to our friend?” 

When the dragon pays no attention to you, you roll your eyes. “She hates me.”

“Dragons are capricious. She’s been with me for over a hundred years.”

“Not very mature then, is she?”

He chuckles again as you pluck cheese from the platter and pop it into your mouth. You’re delighted to find it’s soft and garlicky with a hint of rosemary as well. “She is still a child in dragon years.” 

“And you let her be a glutton.” 

“You could be too.” Your chewing slows and you swallow the cheese hard. You wait to see if he’s teasing you, but Yoongi watches you with a placid expression. “Dreams and desires are intertwined, you know. Desires come from dreams. It is in my nature to be indulgent.” 

“I’ve never really been indulgent in my life.”

“Do you want to be?”

“What?”

His mouth twitches. “Indulgent.”

“I think this is indulgent,” you gesture to the food. “And you’re teaching me to read and write. That is more indulgence than I could ever dream of.”

He hums and it sounds like disapproval. “I think your dreams are far more indulgent than that.” 

He knows. You think he’s going to say something, to ask about the way you dream of him. Instead, he says, “When you return, we’ll work on your indulgence. There is no shame in wanting things, you know?” 

“I don’t know. How could I?”

Light flashes above your head. You break eye contact with him to look up and gasp. The sky is full of shooting stars, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The world lights up as you see rainbows streaking across the sky, bursts of colors and explosions of brilliance shooting through the sky. 

Your mouth hangs open as you watch, mystified into silence. You’re sure this is what Yoongi meant when he said Chaos was passing by, for the sky becomes a cacophony of color and stars and light. You blink your eyes, stunned by the display. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, your heart hammering with excitement as you watch it, legs crossed, head tilted up.

The stars begin to slow and there are less bursts of color, until finally, there is just a shimmering wake of stardust and pink simmering in the sky. You look at Yoongi, utterly speechless, to find him looking at you. His eyes reflect the night sky, full of constellations and stardust, glittering in the dark depths of his irises. 

Yoongi’s eyes are as wonderful as the display above, but you don’t say that. 

“That was beautiful,” you breathe. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes don’t leave you when he hums softly in agreement. “It was.” 

Tiera shuffles next to Yoongi, drawing your attention. She snakes her long neck out, tongue tasting the air as she eyes the meat on the table. Yoongi hisses at her and taps her nose in chastisement, earning an angry croak as the dragon shuffles back to her napping position. 

The rest of your evening is spent snacking in companionable silence. Yoongi doesn’t talk much unless he’s answering your hundreds of questions, but tonight, you have none. You’re comfortable to just look at the world around you, the wisteria branches dancing in the breeze. 

In the distance, you hear thunder. Your eyes follow the sound to the same dark peak with lightning crackling through the mist. You’ve yet to ask Yoongi about that peak in particular, but you think you know what looms there. You remember Yoongi talking about how there are nightmares in this realm too, and you’re not eager to ask what that thunderous mountain holds. 

Yoongi doesn’t divulge, either. He watches you as you regard the peak and says nothing. Perhaps even the Eternal of dreams is hesitant to speak of that place, which is a good enough reason for you not to press him further on it. 

When your stomach is full and you’ve had another glass of wine, you lay back in the grass. Your limbs feel heavy with drink and your world is tilted on a slow-rotating axis. The buzz in your veins feels pleasant, though your thoughts are a little sticky like honey and they run together, untamed. 

Careful to keep his distance, Yoongi lays back in the grass with you. His face looks up at the sky, but you look at him. His features are so delicate and soft, nose and cheeks so round. His face don’t make sense in your head, so severe and terrifying yet gentle and innocent at the same time. 

“You’re staring,” he says eventually. 

“I’m indulging,” you tease back, loosened up by wine. “You said I can indulge, so let me stare.”

“What is there to indulge in?” 

“Your… earrings.” 

That makes him look at you, a brow quirked. “My earrings.”

“Yes. Very shiny. Very dangly.”

“Shiny and dangly?”

“Is there an echo out here?” you demand, frowning at him. “Yes, I am indulging in your jewelry!” 

“Would you like some earrings?”

“My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Well then we’ll pierce them.”

“Well,” you grump. “Don’t you have the answer for everything?”

He smiles then, that rare gummy smile that makes you shut right up. “I told you. I’m indulgent. Anything you want, all you need is to ask.” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite your lip to hide your smile at his words. It is insane to you that this ancient being is laying in the grass next to you telling you to only ask what you want. You don’t know what you want, but you do know that this feels like a dream. That you’re not really here, and that you’re going to wake up tomorrow and be in your bed at home. 

Dread fills you at the thought of going back to your parents. In a way, you want to see them. They’re your parents and there is… unfamiliarity without the sound of your mothers needle stitching through cloth. You could do without your father entirely. The rage inside of you when you picture his face is difficult to quell and is often followed by terror. 

Yoongi has told you that you will be safe when you return. You believe him. There is no reason not to. But more than anything, you’re terrified about what comes next. Living between two worlds is something you remember dreaming about that one day in the forest, looking at the way the world was reflected back on the mirror-calm surface of the water. 

Now that you have access to two worlds, you don’t know what to do with the other that has brought you nothing but suffering. And yet, you still want to see what is there. You’re not ready to leave it entirely without knowing. 

“Are you afraid to go back?” 

Yoongi’s question is soft. You don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.” 

“You won’t be alone. All you have to do is dream of me, and I will come.”

You hesitate then ask, “Do you know any time someone dreams of you?”

“It’s like hearing someone call my name, but I never answer. My business is in creating dreams, not invading them. People like you are able to spin up dreams on your own without my assistance. I help those who cannot.” 

“That sounds like a lovely job.”

He hums. “It’s not without its stresses. I talk a lot about the nature of dreams, but there is more to me and to my job than that. Perhaps we will leave that for your next visit, yes?”

You nod. “Okay.” 

“Come on,” Yoongi sighs, heaving himself upward. “It is late and in the morning, you must return.” 

-

“Touch me,” you beg him, straddling Yoongi’s lap. His head rests against the back of the couch and he looks up at you as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s softer than you imagined, sliding like silk between your fingers. “You told me to ask for what I wanted. Touch me.”

“Anything,” Yoongi agrees. His hands skim up your thighs, warm and rough. He squeezes your flesh, making you moan as his hands continue their worship. Yoongi grips your hips tightly, kneading your flesh as he pulls you closer to him. “Anything. Everything. For you.”

-

When you wake up, you’re confused. The roof above your head is wood and thatch. The mattress beneath you is thin and lumpy, sweat sticking the sheets to your legs. Rolling over, your vision blurs until it comes into focus once more, revealing a tiny room with just a bed, a wardrobe and a closed door. 

Your  room. Well, your room in your parents’ house, you realize with a panic. 

You shoot up in bed as terror claws at you. Did you dream it all? Was it not real? Nothing in your room has changed and the windows are open to the cool air. Grey clouds drift in the sky and you can smell the petrichor of oncoming rain in the distance. 

Rushing to your bedroom door, you rip it open, your heart threatening to burst with how hard it’s beating. You don’t know what you’re looking for or what you expect to find, but the idea that you have just woken up from the most vivid, wonderful dream is so maddening that you need anything to tell you it was real. That it wasn’t in your head.

Your mother is sitting at the kitchen table stitching. She looks up when she hears you. She looks different, leaner and narrower than you ever remember, her greasy hair tied low at her neck. Her hands pause their stitching as she stares at you, stricken. 

“What day is it?” you ask her. The day you had been attacked had been a seventh day. You remember that clearly. “Tell me what day it is!”

Instead, your mother screams in sheer terror. 

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

[floralcyanide]

― ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴍ

In which your best friend, Javi, saves your life when a project goes wrong.

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Gender Neutral!Reader

↝ warnings: tornadoes, disasters, storm chasing, injury, near-death experience, death, some language, SPOILERS FOR TWISTERS (2024)

↝ word count: 1.2k

↝ author's note: I saw Twisters (2024) on Thursday and knew I had to write something for the fandom. I love the OG Twister (1996) movie and disaster movies in general, so I enjoyed Twisters for sure. if anyone has any requests for Tyler Owens, Javi Rivera, or even Bill Harding just send an ask! enjoy this little fic (:

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @saradika | @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You always seemed to be getting yourself into situations. It didn’t matter what the nature of the problem was; you were just constantly getting into trouble of some kind. Whether it was a lame guy you were seeing, your car continually breaking down on the way to class, or, in this case, storm chasing, you were dealing with something. Sometimes, your faults lead you to better things, like a better guy in your life or a new car. Hopefully, for the storm-chasing part, an assured spot in graduate school for your project would be the outcome. Your fingers were crossed.

However, right now, more than just your fingers are crossed. Your toes and everything are crossed in hopes of finding a viable tornado today for your theory to be proven. You and your best friends have worked on the assignment for weeks. And it all comes down to how today goes. A breakout of severe weather is expected in your hometown, so there’s no better time than now to test your work. While Kate, Praveen, Addy, and Jeb go into the field, you and Javi hang back to watch the radar and communicate with the group. 

“How are things looking out there?” Javi radios in after everyone is settled where they’re supposed to be. 

“Lookin’ good,” Kate says, “The winds are crazy out here.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” you respond.

You and Javi hover over the laptop, and the radar shows a large moving storm around where the group is currently.

“Guys, there’s a huge cell over you. Is it anything good?” you radio.

“We’re driving through it now,” Jeb shouts over the sound of pelting sheets of rain, “It’s insane. It’s like the sky opened up.”

“We just have to get through the rain wall, and it should clear out enough for us to see if there’s formation,” Praveen adds.

Commotion is heard over the radio, “Tornado spotted!”

You can see the tornado hook on the radar and become worried as the wind where you and Javi are parked becomes more violent as minutes pass.

“Is everything all good over there?” you ask, and you don’t receive an answer immediately.

“I think it’s too big,” Kate says, a tinge of worry in her voice, “Maybe we should try another time?”

You step out of the van to look ahead at the tornado, and it’s pretty large from a distance.

“I need you guys to get the hell out of there now!” you shout over the walkie.

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Addy says in a panic.

But, little do you know, it’s too late. The tornado continues to grow quickly, the winds ravaging the car the group is in. They decide to bail and head for the overpass despite being the worst shelter option. But, it’s either that or get sucked up into the monstrous storm and tossed around, or worse. Praveen flies away into the tornado despite his best efforts to run. Addy struggles up the ramp, not far behind Kate and Jeb. Kate tries her best to grab a hold of Addy, but she slips, and the wind takes her into the violent storm. Jeb clings to Kate, shielding her from the whirlwind of debris and ripping gusts. He eventually slips away like the others, much to Kate’s horror.

When a few minutes pass without any communication from the group, you decide to climb into the driver’s seat of the van and book it down the road in their direction. You keep speeding forward despite Javi shouting at you to stop or slow down. You get far enough away to see the overpass as the tornado goes through it and hop out. Javi clambers out of the vehicle, chasing you as you run as fast as your legs can carry you to where you think you see Kate.

“Stop!” Javi calls your name, barrelling toward you.

“Kate!” you scream out, but the sound of the wind drowns out your voice.

The tornado’s path turns toward you and Javi, and you skid to a complete stop. You immediately turn around to see Javi hot on your heels, and he’s also turning to run away. He looks back every few seconds to see if you’re gaining on him. He realizes you aren’t running fast enough and turns around to grab you. Javi puts you on his back and begins running as fast as possible. But the tornado isn’t letting up, and it’s getting closer. Javi spots a deep ditch on the side of the road and makes a run for it. He lays you down in the grass and covers your body with his, shielding you from the tornado that just nearly misses you both. It flies by, taking the van with it. You’re hyperventilating with your eyes squeezed shut as you cling to Javi. The roaring of the storm makes your ears feel like they’re going to burst.

Suddenly, it’s over. Silence fills the air with an occasional clap of thunder in the distance. The howling tornado has dissipated at last. You’re still clutching Javi for dear life. He pulls off of you, his body still over you but not pressed to you. 

“Are you okay?” Javi asks, and you can barely hear him through the ringing of your ears.

“Yeah,” you wince, “You?”

Javi sighs, “I’m as good as I can be for surviving a tornado.”

The two of you jog to the overpass, where Kate is still wrapped around a steel rod tucked under the concrete. You don’t see any of the others, and dread fills you. 

“Kate!” you call out to her, and she cries out your name in response.

You and Javi help her slide down the ramp and notice she has a large gash in her thigh. You both help her walk through the somewhat clear path in the debris. There’s mud, grass, splintered wood, and other various shards of what used to be cars and houses covering the road. Kate explains what happened to the rest of the group the best she can, but you and Javi don’t have to ask any questions to understand what occurred. It’s not something any of you want to think about right now. The three of you finally stumble upon the town closest to where you are, and first responders help Kate with her leg.

“I can’t thank you enough, Javi,” you say, standing next to him as you watch the paramedics tend to Kate, “You really saved my ass out there.”

“It’s no problem,” Javi shrugs, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You look over at your best friend, a grin growing on your face. You lean over and gently kiss Javi on his cheek. His face burns underneath his freckles, and you chuckle at his reaction. 

After all that happened, there’s a lot of rebuilding and healing to do. And with the help of each other, you and Javi eventually move on. Kate goes off to the east coast and doesn’t really keep in touch. Javi’s new career needs expertise you can provide, but you refuse unless Kate is there to help. She can sense things you can’t. So, you and Javi fly to New York City, and a new adventure begins with Kate. Hopefully, this time, there will be success in yet another difficult situation you’ve been put into. 

[shelbgrey]

Can you do a Zack Addy x gn reader where reader goes to the Jeffersonian to bring him food and eat with him and everyone is confused because they didn't know Zack had a partner please?

Who's got him smiling like that?(Zack Addy)

Paring: Zack Addy x reader.

Summary: while y/n has lunch with their boyfriend Zack, the Jeffersonian tries to figure out what's going on between the two of them.

A/n: sorry this took so long and that it's shorter than my usual content. I hope you enjoy though.

MasterList

Seeley, Cam, Temperance, and Angela looked down from the balcony on the second floor of the lab. They leaned against the railing confused as they watched Zack laughing with y/n while they ate the lunch y/n brought.

“gotta be a sibling” Booth said, rubbing his hands together. In his eyes Zack was just a child genius that didn't have time to date.

“all of Dr. Addy's siblings are in New Jersey, but that could be a possibility,” Brennan said, looking at Booth then back down at Zack. Something about seeing Zack laughing like that with this beautiful person made her heart swell with happiness.

“Maybe it's just a friend,” Cam shrugged.

“No. I've never seen him laugh like that, he's definitely in love with whoever that is” Angela smiled. She felt so happy seeing him laugh. She could tell all that mattered to him tight now was y/n.

--------(1st pov)--------

“So, how's work?” I asked, nibbling on the last of my fries.

Zack nodded, munching on his onion rings. “well we found some very interesting set of particulates, something neither me nor Hodgins have seen on a victim before, and the humerus…” he stopped mid sentence.

Even though I never really understood all the science mumbo-jumbo I still like hearing him talk about it. There's something about seeing him get all excited and talk about something he's passionate about.

“no, no, keep going. I love it when you talk Science-y” I said resting my chin on my fist.

“'Science-y' isn't a word… And it's fine” Zack said, putting the rapper his burger came in and his napkin in the brown paper bag. “on another note, how's everything in the animal kingdom?”

I worked at the local animal shelter in town, it was an amazing job and I got work and take care of all kinds of dogs and cats. “well… Now that you mention it…” I started and gave him an innocent look. Zack tilted his head and gave me a warning look. “no! I know that look” he said, pointing his finger at me.

“Aw, but he was so cute”

“we already have two dogs... And a cat, that cat still dislikes me” he mumbled the last part.

“It's a small dog though,” I said, giving him a pouty lip. “it's a weiner dog mix, he'll stay tiny” we already had a black lab and a golden retriever, then on top of that I brought home a white cat home three months ago.

Zack playfully rolled his eyes. He always said he admired my love for all animals and loved how compassionate I was for all of them. Not so much when I keep bringing my ‘work’ home with me as he says.

“just imagine a cute little sausage dog curled up in your lap, helping you read Science stuff for work”

Zack sighed playfully.

“I'll let you name him” I smiled and gave him the puppy eyes he can't refuse. He sighed again. “don't give me the look”

“Please”

Zack groaned in a very monaton way. “... Fine”

I immediately wrapped my arms around him and kissed his forehead. “thank you babe”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“what are you doing?” Hodgins asked, walking up to the others. He looked over the balcony to see what everyone was staring at. He smiled when he saw y/n and Zack together.

“trying to figure out who's with Addy,” Booth said.

“Oh, that's y/n” Hodgins smiled.

Everyone gave Hodgins a confused look as Hodgins yelled down at the couple “Hi y/n!”

Y/n left Zack's arms and happily waved at Zack's best friend. “hey, Hodgins”

“soo… Who's y/n?” Angela asked Hodgins.

“Zack's partner” Hodgins smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your telling me Zack… Our little child prodigy is y/n's boyfriend” Booth asked, shocked but at the same time impressed Zack snatched up a beautiful person like y/n.

“trust me I didn't even know y/n existed until Zack tried to seek them in one night when he was still living with me” Hodgins said.

“Well, y/n seems to make him happy,” Cam smiled down at the couple.

“y/n's great… Zack just seems so much happier now”

The team smiled at the couple, Zack and y/n were in there own little world talking about the knew puppy and the case Zack was working on. Hodgins was right, he was so much happier with y/n in his life, he felt more alive and human. He just couldn't help but smile everytime he was in y/n's presents.

[roanofarcc]

A CRUEL FATE

pairing. javi x reader 

summary. getting trapped as a tornado rages closer and closer dreges up all of the horrible memories for that day five years ago, but you’re determined not to lose any more friends. 

warnings. lowkey reads as javi x reader x kate... but I'm not sorry about it. reader is having a very bad time. past-trauma, grief, anxiety, and mention of injuries. happy ending (no one dies this time). not proof read

word count. 1.9k || masterlist

One of the worst places to be in the middle of a tornado was under an overpass. The strong, solid structure tricks you. Its sturdiness and convenience can make a mind think ‘I’ll be safe under there.’ It may rattle and shake, but its ability to hold the weight of traveling cars and semis is deceiving. It probably won’t collapse in the wake of a tornado- that’s not what a person has to worry about- it’s the vacuum the overpass creates that makes it so deadly. As the tornado nears, it creates an impossible pull under the overpass. Anything underneath is likely to be sucked out at wind speeds almost unfathomable and spit out into the storm as if they were weightless. 

From a young age, growing up in tornado alley, you knew that. As a college kid dreaming of a grant to continue storm chasing with your best friends, you had witnessed firsthand the effects EF5 winds had in the space under the overpass. Sometimes when you closed your eyes, on a bad night, you heard the screams of your friends as they were ripped right from you. You could still feel Addy’s hand grasping yours as she climbed up after you. The sheer force of nature tore her from your fingers, nearly taking you too. But by some unfair miracle, it hadn’t. You and Kate, bloodied and at an utter loss, clung to a space that shouldn’t have kept you safe but did. 

Only you and her walked out from under the overpass. And from the second you stepped out into the awful blue sky and destruction as far as the eyes could see, you swore you’d never go chasing again. 

You had moved away and fell out with Kate and Javi when the grief became too much to bear. But somehow, you all found your way back to each other. Between steady convincing from both of them and Kate’s experiment working to successfully take down the twister in El Reno, you found yourself back in the game and one of the newest members of the growing Wranglers team. 

Most of your work was to hang back and track the storms with Javi and Dexter. You started to enjoy it again, missing the thrill of the dangerous storms and the utter awe of their power. It had been going so well. For the first time since the accident, you felt almost whole again, sandwiched between your renewed friendship with Kate and a blossoming relationship with Javi. Everything was nearly perfect until you found yourself facing down an overpass again. 

The small camper the Wranglers had fixed up as their on-the-go weather tracking center was carrying you, Javi, Dexter, and Dani to the nearest gas station to fix a tire slowly leaking air. The rest of the team planned to continue their chase as you all ventured further away from the forming storms. But the universe seemed to have to out for you; a cruel and unusual fate that you returned to after five whole years of healing.

A storm had switched directions, picked up speed, just as it had when you were in college. Before you fully knew what was happening, Dani slammed on the breaks, spinning the camper just slightly as the wind tugged on the vehicle, ratting it straight through to your bones. 

Everything fell fuzzy on your ears; all you heard was the awful howl of wind and your heart lurch into your throat. Someone tugged on your arm, forcing you out of your daze. Javi grasped your shoulders, shaking you slightly. 

“We’ve gotta go!” he yelled above the rising noise all around you. Together, you followed Dani and Dexter out of the camper, stumbling into the wide open. The wind whipped all around you and rain drenched you from head to toe almost immediately. 

You spotted the tornado behind you; its size monstrous, turning the sky an ugly gray. 

“This way!” Dani yelled, pointing toward it. The second your eyes landed on the overpass, standing almost as monstrous in your mind as the twister raging behind you, you felt heavy dread cement your feet to the road. Your lungs burned, a scream to tell them to stop stuck in your throat. But all you could muster was turning to Javi, who held onto your arm. 

“No,” you whispered, the world blurring as the storm grew nearer and nearer. “No, no, no. There has to be somewhere else-” 

He cut you off, eyes shining with something almost as fearful as your own. “There is no where else!"

You watched for a horrible moment as Dani and Dexter sprinted toward the overpass. In their shadow, you saw Addy and Jeb and Praveen running ahead of you for the very last time. Javi slipped his hand into yours and took off after them, forcing your feet to move. 

You ran through the rain, lungs and legs on fire. The second you all stumbled under the overpass, you felt the gut-wrenching tug of wind try so desperately to knock you off your feet. You gritted your teeth, flushed with so much fear it circled back to determination. You had been determined that day too. Determined to reach back and find Praveen after he vanished from your sight. Determined to keep holding Addy’s hand as she tried to climb up on the ledge after you. Determined to help Kate hold onto Jeb. 

When it was left to just you and Kate, you weren’t sure you had ever held onto anyone so tightly, only to let them go once the storm had settled. You had found her again, slipped right back into your old ways, but there would always be that thing that stood between you two; a shared bond and blood that you couldn’t talk about. And it was happening to you all over again. 

“Up there! Let’s go!” Javi yelled, ushering everyone up onto the slippery slope of concrete where the very same ledge was. Dexter crawled up first and you right after him. The wind only grew harsher, knocking Dani to her knees. 

You screamed something terrible, bending down and clutching her wrist so tightly you knew there’d be bruises left behind. But you hadn’t held onto Addy tight enough. You could have saved her; you know you could have, despite what everyone tried to tell you. But Dani was there, and you weren’t going to let her go. You pulled her up with all the strength you could muster as Javi crawled up the slope beside you, helping you. 

Together you got Dani up with all three of you, but the wind pulled on each of you so hard. With each second you felt your body threaten to get swept away, but you clutched the ledge with the same ferocity you had back then. 

Javi’s head was ducked right beside yours and one hand was snaked around you. You fisted the fabric of his shirt, tears and rain pouring down your face as the tornado engulfed the overpass. Under your hold, you felt Javi start to move, pull away but not of his own volition. You grabbed him tightly, hooking your arm around his. 

You couldn’t lose him too. The Javi who had swooped in in the aftermath, distraught but composed enough to take both you and Kate to the hospital. The Javi who, despite your fallout still left you birthday messages. The Javi who you came back to, who meant more than words could properly describe to you. You could feel him slipping from your fingers, but you only held on tighter, testing Mother Nature and her wrath. If she was going to take him, she’d have to take you too. 

It felt like a lifetime, but it was only a minute tops before the tornado passed and moved on. Javi’s body slammed back into the concrete, the wind puttering out. You couldn’t tell what on your body was physical wounds and what was phantom pain, but that hardly mattered as you peered back, seeing both Dexter and Dani still with you, not unharmed but alive. 

A cry of relief left your lips as you sat upright. Hands gently grasped the sides of your face, and your attention was on Javi. He wiped the rain and teardrops from your cheeks before resting his forehead against yours, letting out his own breath of relief. You threw your arms around him, holding him to ensure yourself you both were okay. 

“Guys,” Dani croaked, getting your attention. “The rest of the team...they’re here.” 

You cranked your head to see Tyler’s truck hurry beside the flipped-over camper. You all slid down the concrete slope and landed on the road to see the devastation left behind the tornado’s wake. 

From Tyler’s truck, you watched as Kate jumped out of the passenger door. She sprinted toward you, and you and Javi started to hobble out from the overpass. There was a sharp pain across your knee, burning with each step, but you didn’t care. 

There was a look of both horror and relief pained across Kate’s face as she approached the two of you. Without hesitating, she threw her arms around you and Javi, holding you guys close as her shoulder’s shook. 

“We saw the storm change but when he tried to reach you, you weren’t there,” she muttered into your shoulder. “You weren’t there, and we saw…I thought…” You pulled back from her embrace, seeing the same shell-shocked woman you had five years ago, only she was a little tougher and a little lighter now.  

“We’re okay,” you whispered, to both her and yourself. 

All of the Wranglers gathered around the three of you, checking on each other. You had a nasty cut across your knee, Javi had scratches littering his legs and one across his forehead, and Dani and Dexter both had bloodied limbs too. But aside from that, you all were still standing in some miracle that you couldn’t wrap your head around. 

“That was a hell of a storm,” Dani muttered, ringing out her soaked hat. She gazed at you, holding up her bright red wrist. “And you’ve got a hell of a grip.” 

Something between a sob and a laugh escaped your lips. Javi placed his hand on the small of your back, something that had always kept you steady. “I wasn’t going to let you go.” Your words held more weight than most of the Wranglers knew, but not Kate. She slipped her hand into yours, squeezing it lightly as to say she was there, she remembered, and she was just as sorry as you were. 

“I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Tyler said. “Let’s call it, get cleaned up, and grab some dinner. Yeah?” 

Everyone nodded and started walking toward Tyler’s truck, which they all were going to have to squeeze into. But you, Javi, and Kate lingered behind. 

“Are you sure you guys are okay?” she asked again. “That…” Her words hung silently in the air. That was too familiar, too close. 

“Yeah,” Javi breathed out, shaky but a little more sure than moments before. “Right?” He turned to you. 

You nodded and gazed up at the sky that began to shine bright blue. It had that day too. You didn’t know what you believed in, what happened after life, but as the sun beamed down on the three of you, you thought of all of them: Addy, Jeb, and Praveen. Maybe they were peering down at the three of you. Maybe they made their own vow not to let any of you go. Or maybe Mother Nature thought your fate had already been screwed with enough. Whatever it was, you were still standing with no intention to let anyone else slip from your grasp.

[elleloquently]

the wretched and joyful [ 3 ] : ellie williams

ellie williams x female reader | angst + slowburn

masterlist

───⋆☆ And what the hell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends - This doesn't make much sense, no ♪

───⋆☆ All those sleepless nights - And all those wasted days - I wish loneliness would leave me - But I think it's here to stay ♪

| a/n - depending on how well this does, i'll decide if i'll be posting the rest of this fic or just leaving it here. thank you for your patience waiting for part three... please share ur thoughts bc that's my favorite part! i wrote this a little tipsy bc i wanted to get the right pacing of drinking so hopefully u get the vibe hehe | c/w - swearing, alcohol used as a coping mechanism, drinking, very small emetophobia warning! brief mention of sick (not detailed whatsoever), and a tiny dash of nsfw

you twirled and twirled in front of your dusted vanity mirror. the skirt that addie had made you was doing wonders.

you felt pretty.

what a ridiculous thing to say in this type of world.

the sky was streaked with orange, the promise of darkness growing closer by the second.

your stomach was in knots as you walked down the road. you tried to muster up excitement, telling yourself that was the reason for your shivers and shaking hands. if you forced it hard enough, perhaps it would be true.

perhaps you were a little too eager to drink, anything to numb your feelings or make you feel easy going, at least for a little while.

typically, you didn't like to drink much. you hated the taste, the way it constantly made you gag no matter how much you tried to like it. you hated feeling sick, too.

now, that didn't matter too much. if you were terribly sick the next day, so be it. maybe the sickness was the punishment that you deserved, and you decided that you would let it be.

dina's laughter echoed around you. you weren't sure what was said, but the ghost of a smile etched itself onto your lips anyway.

you pulled your gaze away from your feet, looking upwards to dina's grinning face instead. you had just caught the last second of a worried expression crossing jesse's face beforehand.

"stop dragging your feet," ellie complained, brushing your arm with her own. your skin responded almost instantly with chills. you could blame it on the cold weather, a cardigan wrapped protectively around your shoulders and arms. the days were certainly warming up, but the crisp air at night was an unforgiving reminder of the harsh winter everyone had struggled through.

you grumbled something inaudible in response, falling in line with your friends.

the four of you, a group of twenty somethings walking along almost happily as if the night could hold some sort of promise.

some older residents of jackson might chuckle, joking about staying out of trouble with a shake of their head. almost immediately their smiles would fall, remembering their own youth and how realistically, nobody would ever get to experience something like that again.

the light peeking through the tipsy bison ignited the fire in your nerves. jesse held the door open and you huddled in, giggling at the way seth loudly groaned once he set eyes on you and the three friends that followed. it almost could've been endearing if he wasn't such a piece of shit.

two older men sat at the bar turned and gave polite smiles as ellie claimed a rounded table in the corner. otherwise, it was pretty quiet. not for long.

"you look so cute," dina gushed in your ear, brushing her hands over your shoulder. "mrs. hollis really is a gem."

your lips slipped into a smile, cheeks burning. "thanks," you breathed out, looking at ellie out of the corner of your eye.

she had teased you quite a few times for saving a clothing item for a special occasion, but it didn't matter much. if you didn't go out of your way to try and make things special, how would they ever be?

dina pushed your back into the direction of the table where ellie and jesse were settling in. "go, sit. drink. be happy, or merry, or.. whatever they say."

you moved to the table as dina crossed to the bar. ellie's gaze raised, patting the seat next to her.

"hi," you said, sliding into the high top.

"so glad you could join us," jesse replied, charming and awkward and obviously testing the waters. he kept glancing between yourself and ellie and you wished he wouldn't. you hadn't even told him anything.

"you look pretty," ellie remarked, as if it were the most casual thing in the world that she could say. you felt feverish.

you opened your mouth to respond, but jesse drummed his fingers against the table.

"better go help my girl with our drinks," he announced, making things worse when he quickly stood up from the table.

"they're disgusting," ellie mumbled, watching as he joined dina and instantly snaked an arm around her waist.

you turned to look at ellie, watching as she watched jesse and dina. "you love them," you disagreed. "i'm glad they're back together."

"yeah. me too," ellie replied.

her tone sounded distant, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you turned and scooted closer to ellie. "what's the matter?" you questioned, just as music started playing throughout the bar. you both looked up at the same time, watching dina and jesse carrying drinks to your table. you wondered which was the one to sweet talk seth into turning on the music. you were almost certain that it had been jesse.

ellie went for her glass instantly, to which you glanced at her once again out of concern. surely though, you couldn't blame her. she had seemed so stressed lately. so.. tense. more than usual, at least.

jesse's filled glass matched ellie's, a flavor you certainly could never develop a taste for, no matter how troubled you were.

you stared down at your own beverage, swallowing hard. you could already taste it without even taking a sip. the anticipation was surely making it worse.

"cheers," you said suddenly, making your joke obvious by the way that you lifted your drink of choice. "to the happy couple."

dina groaned, reaching across the table to smack playfully at your hand.

"enough with that," dina pressed, but still tapped her glass against your own.

"cheers to this week of patrol being fucking over," ellie chimed in, sharing a knowing look with dina.

you wanted to ask about it, but the way that both of the girls took a long drink after the statement made you keep quiet.

the first sip was the hardest part. you knew how bad it would taste. you forced a straight face and took the biggest drink that you could manage. you swallowed down a cough, which didn't go unnoticed by jesse. he laughed, but didn't tease you.

falling into conversation was easy for your friends. you half listened, mostly focusing on the alcohol in front of you. it wasn't right, you knew that, but you wanted to get the drinking part over with quickly so you could just land at the end result.

get it over with.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"-don't you think?"

you tore your eyes upwards, wanting to locate the face that belonged to the voice just as you heard your name being impatiently called.

"i said, don't you think? you agree, right?"

ellie was looking at you expectantly.

"yeah. yeah, of course," you found yourself saying.

"oh jesus christ," ellie groaned, shaking her head.

"we've lost her," jesse concluded and you scrambled to sit up straighter in your seat.

"no, you haven't," you forced out. you had been preoccupied, but not lost. maybe your mind had just taken you for hostage, a thought repressed with every sip that you forced down.

your cheeks were starting to feel a little warm, but you were still painfully aware of ellie's body heat next to you and the way that you kept fidgeting with your hair.

"can you really blame him, ellie?" dina continued, not letting your short blip disrupt the conversation. "he just cares about you, that's all."

ellie snorted, and you knew the topic needed to change fast.

"can i try?" you questioned all of a sudden, eyes flicking to the glass held tightly in ellie's hand.

"you don't like it," she reminded you softly, the change in her tone genuinely catching you off guard.

"maybe i do now," you pressed, grateful for the way that dina and jesse began their own conversation from their side of the table. you scooted a little closer to ellie, as much as your chair could allow without swaying. you moved to grab the drink from ellie, but instead she raised the glass to your lips and tilted it. you took a careful sip, eyes scrunching shut as the flavor hit your tongue.

ellie laughed, moving away from you and taking a sip of her own. "that's what i thought," she mumbled, shaking her head with a smile.

"whatever, i'm empty. anyone need a refill?" you announced. it was maybe the third or second round of drinks, you couldn't tell who had what once drinks had started to be shared.

"please," dina grinned, sliding her own cup across the table for you to grab.

you nodded once in acknowledgment before attempting to hop off of the chair. it ended up being more of a slide, steadying yourself with one hand gripping the edge of the table.

"shit," you murmured, standing up straight and collecting the glasses in your hands.

clearly, you had underestimated things. it was only made apparent once you were standing up and moving.

you took focused steps, walking over to the bar and inwardly groaning as seth was very obviously trying not to make eye contact with you. he absolutely hated you, which wasn't much of a loss.. but still humiliating under the circumstances in which the negative feelings arose.

"you gonna drink me out of my own fucking bar again?" seth asked harshly, causing you to wince in reply. you simply shook your head, gesturing to have the cups refilled.

it had been two winters ago, maybe. a close call with ellie at an awkward sleepover had you running to the bison for something to help you cope. you shouldn't have been drinking anyway but you did and seth yelled at you, saying there wasn't going to be any alcohol left for the rest of the town.

the next day, you were horribly sick and ashamed. you spent the day throwing up, wallowing in your own pity.

you had told ellie that you had thought maybe you had the flu.

you debated on ignoring him altogether or making a witty quip, but you took too long to decide and the moment passed.

"just two of the same, please," you mumbled, setting the two glasses in front of him.

seth looked at you and breathed out heavily, squinting his eyes. whatever he wanted to say, he held back as he wordlessly refilled the glasses for you. once returned you smiled, or maybe grimaced, and began to turn away before a nagging idea entered your mind.

you drank, quickly, and had your glass filled once more. it only took a matter of seconds, and you had been convinced that was the last step required to rid yourself of the rather unforgiving thoughts plaguing your brain.

like nothing more even happened, you turned as quickly as possible to the table and made your way back to your friends without spilling any drops.

their boisterous laughter caused the appearance of a frown on your lips. a fear of missing out, why were they laughing so wildly now, once you weren't present for the conversation?

"what're you talking about?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you balanced your body back onto the chair.

"nothing," ellie shook her head, her lips slipping into an amused smile.

"that's not nice," you murmured, cheeks warm as dina reached across the table to grab her drink. "you're leaving me out."

"never," ellie responded, her voice dipping low into a mumble. her hand gently squeezed your forearm, reassuringly.

ellie's touch was gone as quickly as it had came and you held your drink up to your lips, hiding the flustered manner in which your lips twisted about.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ellie really was trying to focus on whatever jesse was going on about, but your cardigan kept slipping off of your shoulders and your laugh was ringing above the conversation.

her gaze kept wandering to where you were sat next to her, fidgeting with your fingers as you enthusiastically nodded along to the conversation. ellie could tell that you were drunk, or very quickly approaching it, by the way in which you were allowing yourself to fully ramble at the table instead of carefully thinking over and choosing your words.

truthfully, wholeheartedly, ellie adored the way in which you lit up when you told a story.

she leaned back in her seat, hand resting carelessly against her glass as she became more interested in your story than what she was meant to be listening to.

ellie could also tell when you were tipsy, at the very least, because you seemed to be a lot more prone to physical touch. every few seconds your elbow found itself bumping against ellie's. a hand on an arm, a head rested on a shoulder, your head in her lap.

you threw your head back while you laughed, a genuine, nose scrunched type of laugh. ellie quickly tore her eyes away and nearly choked on her drink when your head landed on her shoulder.

"you okay?" ellie mumbled. she might've accidentally interrupted dina, but ellie's words were quiet anyway. her body was tense at the contact and she found herself reaching for her glass once again, fingertips gripping at the rim.

you nodded, your cheek bumping against ellie's shoulder but your words came out in response to dina.

"-and did you see cat's new tattoo?" you asked, your eyes widening in an expression that ellie thought looked like awe.

"no," dina guffawed, and ellie felt you nod again.

"wait, another?" jesse questioned suddenly, and finally ellie had an excuse to join into your conversation.

a bigger gulp of alcohol burned its way down ellie's throat and she swore that she could feel her face flush.

you sat up suddenly, stomach nearly slamming against the table edge as you pushed yourself forward. your laugh was breathy now, as if it had taken all of the effort in the world for you to sit straight. you slapped your hand over your own shoulder blade in explanation. "right there," you clarified.

"what was it?" jesse asked, and ellie noticed that his face was looking a little red as well.

you shrugged. "i didn't get that good of a look," you sighed. "but it's probably something cool."

"damn," dina said wistfully. "she's cool."

ellie scoffed. "bullshit, i have never heard you say that cat's cool."

"what's wrong with cat?" jesse pipped in. you curiously raised an eyebrow, and ellie tried hard not to look at you.

"nothing," ellie defended. "but dina definitely never used to think cat was cool. you used to say quite the opposite, actually."

"did i?" dina teased. "i've never had a problem with her. you guys just weren't right for each other," she completed, settling seriously as her gaze met ellie's.

ellie could feel your eyes on her, and she could very nearly anticipate some smart remark from jesse. dina's gaze was practically unsettling, how intense it was all of a sudden. there was something there, something knowing between herself and dina. ellie brought her glass to her lips once more, a cop out from having to reply.

just like that, the gaze was avoided. your arm bumped against ellie's as you sank down in defeat.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

how had you ever been sad?

the music had been turned up louder, louder than seth's grumbles and protests. it was something old, something with a lot of guitar that sounded like people would dance in boots to. ellie had rolled her eyes and swatted at you after your attempted description, but you didn't mind. you knew it was silly. the alcohol was too strong for you to mind.

you danced with dina, feeling like the most radiant person in the world while your skirt swished around your ankles. your own laughter sounded far away, echoing in your ears. your cheeks genuinely hurt from smiling, and if anyone were to place a hand across your forehead, surely you would feel feverish.

cardigan forgotten, your sleeves had been bunched up between your elbows and wrists. you twirled and twirled, laughing hysterically as your arms got tangled with dina's. you could hear ellie and jesse laughing too, somewhere far away and hazy. you knew in the back of your mind that they were laughing at you, but you didn't mind. you laughed along anyway.

the burn in your throat that tempted a gag with each sip was subdued. each taste no longer prompted a wince, which resulted in probably a sip too many.

you were happy. beaming, even. couldn't you feel like this forever?

time passed in seconds and years while you were drinking in the tipsy bison. had you been dancing ten minutes ago, or ten weeks ago? you looked down at your feet, trying to decide if they looked tired.

you squinted hard. were your feet always this blurry?

"you alright, kid?"

you squinted harder. a man was talking to you. you looked up, and raising your gaze took a few days, maybe.

jesse.

it took a few seconds for his words to process in your ears.

"am i alright?" you questioned, your tongue numb. jesse laughed, so you laugh too.

so silly.

"time for her to go, williams." jesse says. you laughed, then realized he's talking about you, so you twist your lips into a frown.

"no," you disagreed.

ellie raised an eyebrow, in a way that almost looks lazy. she scans you over, almost pretending to be serious, before a lighthearted laugh escapes her.

"ease up," she tells jesse simply. you nodded once along with ellie.

yeah, ease up, you think, because you forgot to move your lips and say it out loud.

everyone seems to be satisfied because the conversation moves along. you sighed, content, and traced your finger along the edge of the table. you mentally searched your brain for the worried fuzz that previously clouded it, but found nothing. the ambience of chatter and laughter was like medicine for your mind.

you were the first of your friends to switch to water. you sipped it slowly, dragging your eyes between dina and jesse. you really did love them, the closest thing to a family that you had ever had. you felt an extremely strong urge to blurt it out then and there, but managed to swallow it along with your water.

you heard ellie laugh so you laughed too, like a reflex. your eyes found her now without even trying, but you never really had to try anyway. it didn't matter if you were sat right next to her or all the way across jackson, you always seemed to just find her. you were completely drawn to her, just as you had always been.

you felt like jelly.

ellie's features had you completely transfixed.

you weren't necessarily listening to the conversation, just studying ellie's features and reactions. the sounds around you had blended together and you blinked heavily, memorizing ellie's side profile as if you hadn't already had it memorized.

your eyes found the strand of hair following the curve of ellie's cheek and chin. the slope of her nose. she kept laughing, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. you stared for so long, your gaze was fixated.

at some point you must've laughed, because suddenly ellie was staring right back at you.

you forget to tear your eyes away, because you just don't really feel the need to.

"the fuck is wrong with you?" ellie questioned.

her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, though the slow smile that grew on her lips made her look slightly amused, too.

"nothing," you breathed, and not even the alcohol could help the pounding in your chest when ellie looked at you like that.

"-think it's time to call it," jesse concluded, pushing his glass away from him.

"quitter," dina taunted, and she might've leaned in to kiss him but you weren't sure. you weren't looking.

"nothing?" ellie laughed, repeating your words. she squinted at you and leaned in closer, as if that would help her to reveal the truth.

"are you guys heading out too?" dina questioned, standing with jesse.

"in a minute," ellie answered, finally tearing her eyes away from your own.

sloppy goodbye's were given, giggles and thank you's despite seeing each other every day.

you ducked when jesse reached down to ruffle your hair, but you weren't able to dodge it.

ellie watched as dina and jesse left together, hand in hand. once she finally turned back to you, she laughed in astonishment.

"seriously, what?" ellie chuckled, shaking her head under your gaze.

"i don't know, shut up," you avoided, smoothing the material of your skirt over your lap.

"you're a bad liar," ellie said pointedly, leaning in closer with a determined expression as she scanned your facial features.

frowning at ellie's scrutiny, you caved under the minimal pressure that she had applied.

"your hair," you admitted softly. your answer obviously didn't clarify anything for the girl sat next to you. her brows remained furrowed, as if to imply 'go on..'

you shouldn't use alcohol as an excuse, but you did. reaching a gentle hand out, your fingers brushed against the strand of hair that followed the curve of ellie's cheek. her expression seemed to change a million times within the few, short seconds that the interaction lasted.

"i like when you wear it like this," you said simply, dropping your hand back onto your lap. ellie instinctively reached her hand back and touched her hair, cheeks reddening.

"shut up," ellie said, but her tone lacked any real authority.

"why?" you asked back, nearly instantly. "can't i compliment my friend?"

ellie shook her head, dropping her gaze and swallowing a chuckle as she finished off the rest of the liquid from her glass.

"what?" you asked, lips etching into a smile. you weren't sure why you were pushing now, but it was entertaining. "you said i looked pretty earlier, remember that?"

ellie coughed, eyes widening for only the briefest of seconds. "so what? you do look pretty." ellie doubled down, her gaze flicking over you. her voice was smooth, but her cheeks were red. it made you giggle.

"okay, thank you. you do too," you responded, fidgeting with the bottom hem of your sweater.

ellie pushed away from the table, rolling her eyes. "oh, fuck off," she snorted.

you scrambled out of your chair, thankfully grabbing onto the hand that ellie had offered out to you as you hopped down from the high top.

"fuck you, you look good," you insisted.

ellie dropped your hand, her nose wrinkling as she stopped to study you once again. "what's the matter with you?"

"oh my god, williams. you have got to lighten up," you laughed, looking away from her as you shook your head. you felt hot.

ellie was silent as you left the tipsy bison, and your stomach twisted.

was she actually bothered? you were being too much, right?

the sky was dark. everything outside seemed still.

you breathed in deep as the crisp air hit your face. something about the cold air burning your hot cheeks felt like a wave of reality. there was that lingering of the harsh winter still in the air, but something else, too. the promise of a warm spring to come.

"sorry," you said suddenly, concentrating really hard on the steps that you were taking. "i didn't mean to-"

"please. don't be dumb," ellie said. her tone was lighthearted. you were fine.

ellie's pace was relaxed as you both walked. it was a stark contrast from how tense she had seemed previously in the evening. you wondered if she had been using the alcohol to her own advantage too.

lost in thought, you nearly tripped over your own feet. ellie's laughter bounced around the empty road but she grabbed your hand immediately, helping to steady you. ellie didn't let go, so you didn't either.

you looked sideways at her, trying to step carefully so your steps didn't sound clumsy. ellie scanned her surroundings a lot when she walked, even now. it was less pointed now, but you could still notice it.

you thought back to the previous evening, ellie's body in your bed and the way in which she had looked at you. so close, so intentional.

you might've been anxious, but you weren't stupid. it had been a moment, right?

or at least, it almost was.

the alcohol wasn't pacifying anything. your heart rammed against your chest.

"where'd you go?" ellie asked, and the softness of her tone caught you off guard.

"nowhere," you answered, squeezing her hand. "just thinking."

"about?" ellie pressed, purposely bumping into you. you slowed to a stop, shrugging your shoulders.

"everything," you answered simply, dropping her hand. it almost wasn't a lie.

"ah, right. that narrows it down," ellie snarked.

"shut up," you laughed breathlessly, because her face seemed to be the only thing in full focus and ellie's stare was intense, even when it wasn't intended to be.

"what, we're keeping secrets now?" ellie pressed, her voice raising in pitch. her cheeks were still tinted, you could tell even in the dark.

a secret or two was fine to keep, you thought, especially if it was about potentially being in love with your best friend.

"please, as if you don't have any secrets," you retorted, almost a little too accusingly. ellie had been different lately.

off.

ellie shook her head, eyebrows pinching together. "not from you," she answered, taking a step closer. her tone made your heart soar, but something about the way that her eyes changed made her words not entirely believable.

the smallest difference would make you spiral, but that's what the alcohol had been for. now, you could simply play along.

"well, me neither," you insisted as you continued down the familiar path to ellie's.

ellie scoffed in response. "aren't i special?" she said sarcastically.

"you are." your tone was straight forward, adamant.

ellie shook her head, which made you frown. you wanted her to reach for your hand again.

you lingered outside of ellie's, staying back a step as she fumbled with the door.

"i'll see you tomorrow, okay?" you said softly, not enjoying how much effort it was taking you now to enunciate your words.

"you're not coming in?" ellie asked, tilting her head at you. she looked disappointed, you thought.

"i don't know. you're making me nervous," you admitted without any time to regret it.

ellie laughed in disbelief. "what are you talking about?"

"you're being intimidating," you spat out, wrapping your arms around yourself. you wouldn't ever say that to her, but for some reason you did, and now you had to deal with the dejected expression that appeared on ellie's face.

"how?"

"because im kind of drunk and i know i'll say something without thinking."

"something bad?" ellie questioned, eyebrows raised in concern.

"no," you answered.

"i think.. i'm gonna need an example."

you shook your head. "stop. you're being so... i can't handle it.

"i'm not doing anything," ellie argued.

"i know. you're just.. you."

"in a good way, or a bad way?" ellie asked, red in the face and obviously confused. you felt like you were floating, watching your body from afar and silently screaming at yourself to shut up! stop talking!

"a good way. a really, really good way."

brows still pinched together, the tiniest ghost of a smile appeared at ellie's lips. "what're you doing?" she asked slowly, her tone dropping.

"i don't know," you rushed out. you were dizzy. very dizzy, and you felt like you were burning up. you dropped your arms to your sides.

"are you being serious right now, or are you fucking with me?" ellie asked, stepping closer.

your body felt like it was buzzing. your words nearly came out in a whisper.

"i'm serious."

"you could've just said so," ellie muttered, eyes darting across your own.

it was like all ellie needed was confirmation that she wasn't being misguided, and she turned into a different person. not unrecognizable, just more confident. more assured.

you bumped your back against the door for stability. your knees felt like they could buckle at any second. you wished that maybe you had drank more, because your nerves seemed to be taking control now.

"i don't know what i'm doing," was all that you seemed to be able to muster up with ellie looking at you like that.

your words had some sort of reaction within ellie, because the corners of her lips twitched and she let out a breathy laugh, the scent of alcohol consuming you.

kissing ellie wasn't how you had imagined it to be.

it was sudden and hurried, her lips crashing against your own. your breath caught in your throat once her tongue slid against yours.

you had imagined, maybe, that everything around you would quiet.

instead, all of your senses were on high alert. the taste of alcohol in her mouth, the wind stinging your cheeks. your stomach twisted and turned and your knees threatened to give out at any second.

you pulled away eventually, eyes wild and glistening.

"ellie?"

"was that okay?" ellie's voice was quiet and you found yourself nodding before her sentence was even finished.

at your confirmation, ellie gripped your hip with one hand to keep you steady as she pushed the door open with her free hand. the door swinging out from behind you almost made you jump, so ellie tightened her grip.

ellie's lips were on yours again within seconds of the door shutting. you were blind, taking backwards steps into ellie's house.

your heart was pounding. you swore ellie could hear it. you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to not think.

you startled once your back clumsily hit the wall and ellie tilted her head, deepening the kiss when you were steady once again.

her calloused fingertips slipped underneath the hem of your tank top, ghosting along your stomach and waist. the shaky sigh that you released into the kiss seemed to only encourage her more.

surely you would need to breathe soon, but you wouldn't dare pull away.

it wasn't anything like you allowed yourself to imagine, but that was fine. you weren't disappointed, it was just different.

you got the sudden urge to step back and look at her, to make sure that she was still your ellie, but you wouldn't.

stop. thinking.

ellie's hands were on your neck and then your shoulders, pushing your cardigan away from your arms and onto the floor. you dug your fingertips into the fabric of her shirt, pulling her body against your own. each breath apart was hurried and shaky, as if you couldn't collapse together again quick enough.

ellie's mouth attached to your jaw, kissing upwards until she was right below your ear. a small breathy sound left your throat, and you could feel ellie's lips turn upwards against your jaw.

butterflies exploded in your stomach. your hands were shaking as you wrapped your arms around ellie's shoulders, tugging her closer and pulling her lips back to yours.

this was everything that you had always wanted, right?

so you tried to push away the growing pit in your stomach and focus on the feeling of ellie's fingers tracing against your flesh.

goosebumps pricked over your bare arms and your body knocked against ellie's. you barely had one second to be insecure before ellie's grip tightened, hiding the trembling of her fingers.

ellie’s name left your mouth as a whisper, though it still gained her attention. she pulled away, just barely, her eyes boring into your own as her fingertips pulled at your hips.

“is this okay?” she asked, her words serious and steady.

you nodded, trying desperately not to shy under her gaze. “promise,” you whispered.

ellie kissed you again, the movements bordering on erratic. your breath hitched, every single thought in your mind ramming together and forming mush. your fingers found ellie's shirt, pressing your palms against her back.

you couldn't believe this was happening. and yet...

you were nearly certain that your hands were shaking. you hardly even noticed the fact that ellie's hands were shaking, too. your nails lightly dipped into ellie's back, causing her to sigh against your lips.

you had never- obviously. ellie knew that. was she considering that now? were you disgusting for even thinking it?

you assumed ellie had. though she never really seemed to like to talk about that sort of stuff with you. she had been with cat for awhile-

you deepened the kiss, speeding up to match the pace of ellie's movements.

not the time to think about the past.

"ellie-" you mustered, the words barely audible and practically swallowed by the kiss. ellie heard it, however, and something about it made her pull away.

ellie snapped back, her lips leaving yours just as suddenly as it had been when she first kissed you. she quickly pulled her hands away, taking a step back.

you nearly gulped the air, trying to catch your breath and make sense of the situation. you pressed a hand against the wall behind you, steadying yourself.

"ellie? what's-"

"shit," ellie murmured, taking another step away from you and shutting her eyes tight.

your stomach dropped.

the situation was unfamiliar to you, but anyone could tell that something was wrong.

this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

you froze, eyes wide and lips swollen. you watched as ellie raked her hands through her hair, pacing away from you.

"ellie, what?" you pressed, your voice coming out in a pathetic whisper.

"nothing," ellie dismissed, refusing to meet your eyes.

your heart hammered against your chest, a wave of emotions flooding over you.

shame, disgust, guilt, regret-

"el-"

"seriously, nothing. it's just late. you drank a lot, right?" ellie accused, staring at the floor.

you shook your head, humiliation digging a hole into your stomach. "not too much, obviously. i'm fine, what's-"

"it's just late," ellie repeated. "i'm tired. you should probably get home."

and there it was.

you pressed your palm harder against the wall in an effort to prevent yourself from collapsing onto the floor.

every doubt, every insecurity, every reason preventing you from being honest with ellie about your feelings rang true in your head. your anxieties had been right, and now there was no taking it back.

you tried to catch her eye in the dark, but ellie wasn't budging.

"w-what?" you breathed out, tears pricking in your eyes.

"you should probably get going," ellie reinforced, her voice devoid of any emotion.

before you could get another word in or even process what the fuck had just happened, ellie turned her back and left the room.

you stood alone in the dark, hands trembling at your sides.

what?

you stayed still for a moment, holding your breath and hoping that ellie would come back.

she didn't.

you gathered your cardigan from the floor, rushing to cover your arms and flee from the scene of the crime.

your body felt as though it was in shock when you were greeted again by the cold night. the unforgiving chill and the fevered warmth throughout your body were battling to win, each sensation fighting to take over.

you wobbled only a few steps away from ellie's house. your stomach lurched. you only had a second to keel over before you threw up, all of the alcohol and shame making itself apparent on the street.

you wrapped your arms tight around your body, trying to force your brain to wrap itself around what happened. you couldn't make sense of it.

you thought that you might throw up again, but instead a sob choked its way up your throat.

you waited just a second, sobs rattling your chest with your arms tightly wrapped around yourself. you stared at her house, willing her to come outside, tell you it was some sort of sick joke and comfort you.

you knew that she wouldn't.

you carried yourself home, steps heavy and uneven. you stifled your cries until you were inside, falling to the ground as soon as your door was shut.

nothing, you thought, felt as bad as this right now.

you rested the back of your hand against your forehead, willing this all to be some sort of alcohol, feverish induced dream.

surely that didn't just happen. it couldn't have, you didn't want it to.

even if ellie was just interested in some sort of drunken hookup and then came to her senses, you were her best friend. how could she suddenly be so detached, so casually cruel without another regard for your feelings? even if she didn't like you, you were her best friend.

you cried like a stubborn child having a tantrum.

it was all that you could really manage to do.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧