#As always a huge thank you to everyone who has followed and engaged with this blog which is itself almost...eight years old?! Unreal.

[daresplaining]

A Decade of Daredevil

Daredevil vol. 2 #500 connecting cover art by Marko Djurdjevic

Today is an important day for me, so I wanted to make sure I acknowledged it in some form. It was exactly ten years ago, on February 24th, 2013, that I read my very first Daredevil comic. It was a digital freebie on the Marvel website (the reason I know the exact date is because I still have the emailed receipt). I had heard the name Daredevil through the natural osmosis of reading other Marvel series, but I didn't know anything about the character. However, I was also at the stage in my superhero comics journey where I was reading everything I could get my hands on, so I was more than happy to give it a shot.

The issue in question was Daredevil Volume 2 #500. I've always wondered why they picked that particular one to offer up for free in order, presumably, to entice new readers to try out Daredevil, since not only is it the last issue of a story arc, it's the last issue of an entire run. It's a terrible entry point, and I had no idea what was going on. There was a woman in a coma, there was another woman getting kidnapped, Daredevil was destroying some guy's car... I distinctly remember getting to the scene where Black Tarantula dangles Foggy off a roof and being unsure how concerned I should be, since I didn't know if Foggy was an important character or just some dude. But against all odds, I enjoyed it! The action was cool, I was intrigued by Matt as a character, and so the next time I went to the comic book store, I made sure to check out their Daredevil collection.

I was in Montpellier, France, at the time, which has a wonderful little comic shop called Planètes Interdites (not, as far as I know, affiliated with any of the various other Forbidden Planets). Being overseas, they didn't get weekly new releases of American comics, but they did have a very nice selection of back issues in both English and French-- including, fortunately for me, the first issue of the current Daredevil run at the time, which was Volume 3 (Waid, Rivera, and Co. had been Daredevilling for just under a year-and-a-half by this point). I flipped through it and a few other back issues before eventually buying a Panini 2-in-1 French translation of Daredevil Volume 1 #288 and 289, because I really liked the art and also because I wanted to practice my French. I walked out of the store perfectly happy, unaware of what had just been planted in my brain.

Over the next few days, I found myself distracted at random moments by a mental image. It was a page from the Daredevil #1 I had so casually flipped through and then decided not to buy. It was this page:

Daredevil vol. 3 #1 by Mark Waid, Paolo Rivera, Joe Rivera, Javier Rodriguez, and Joe Caramagna

It kept coming back to me. It started taking over my thoughts. It wouldn't leave me alone. It was just...so cool! Finally, after a week of this, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran back to the comic book store and bought the issue. To this day, it remains probably my most-read issue of Daredevil, and coming back to it feels like sitting on a comfortable chair that you've had for a million years. I'm sure I have it memorized.

This issue gave me direction; hooked, I caught up with the rest of the current run, and at some point decided that I was going to commit to this thing. I was going to devote the time it would take to read every issue of Daredevil. How could I not? I was obsessed.

And so, I did.

Anniversaries like these are always weird. It feels like it's been forever, but also like it's been just a few short years, and I know that to many long-term DD fans, one decade is no time at all. It's hard to sum up the experience, all of the happiness this comic and these characters have brought me, the friends I've made, the nutty things I've done that I never would have considered trying otherwise-- getting up on the cosplay stage at the Marvel booth at one of the biggest conventions in the world...walking around in the sketchy corners of New York City at sunset alone to catch a glimpse of the Netflix show being filmed...making a fan blog on Tumblr... It's been a wild and exciting ten years, and I'm grateful to have been able to spend such a long time immersed in the Daredevil world and hanging out with a character who means so much to me. So, I guess...happy tenth anniversary to me and Matt Murdock. Thanks for the memories, man. Let's keep this going.

#Long post #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #ID in alt text #I spent a long time on-and-off thinking about what I should do to commemorate the occasion but this feels right. #As always a huge thank you to everyone who has followed and engaged with this blog which is itself almost...eight years old?! Unreal.

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | Two | 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: 21,443

☾ 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, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder

☾ Published: December 2, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This chapter took so long to write and I want to apologize for how long it took. The creative process can be so difficult sometimes, and I have been having a very hard year, which reflects in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me - I really hope this chapter is okay. This originally wasn't going to be as slow of a burn as it is, but this is where the story took me naturally, so I hope that's okay with everyone. I am going to be adding an extra chapter to this now to tell the story the way I want, so we will have five total chapters to this. I am already working on chapter three, and my goal is to write just this series until the next three chapters are done! Note: The sections of italics are used to indicate dream sequences for this fic - the way I use these are very specific and with intent... that's the only hint I will give you.

A huge thank you to @here2bbtstrash for being my beta reader - I give them huge beta projects with very little time to do them, and this story would not be nearly as polished or tuned as it is now without them. Also thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and patient with me - your kind words are not lost on me and I'm thankful for you all!

☾ 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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Eyes in the sky crying geysers How dare I have private desires

-

First is your mother’s screaming. It’s loud enough to make you clap your hands over your ears, wincing as she drops all of the things in her hands. Second is your father storming into the house like a hurricane, an axe clutched in his hand from cutting wood in the yard. When he sees you, he blanches and takes a few steps back, raising the axe. 

“Demon,” he whispers. He reaches for your mother and pulls her behind him. “You are a demon.” 

“No, I-”

Without a warning, your father launches the axe at you. You scream, arms going up to block your face, unable to dodge the attack. There’s a loud crack as the axe hits an invisible barrier. You feel your hand fly to your open mouth, staring at the axe that’s now hewn in two on the floor. 

Silence follows the destruction of the weapon. In that silence, it occurs to you that your father has attempted to kill you, and was only stopped by whatever protection Yoongi promised you. The realization is dizzying and you stumble away from your parents a little, bumping into the wall that separates the kitchen and the entryway. 

No one says anything at first. Your mother clings to your father, trembling violently. Her hair is greyer than you remember and it looks like the last few days haven’t been kind to her. But she has always been soft and weak.

It’s your father who no longer looks the same. Always such an imposing figure in your life, he looks aged. His face is wrinkled, his hair is grey. His presence is so much smaller than you remember, once full of rage and ferocity, now just a terrified man in a doorway. 

You cannot believe this is the man you’ve spent most of your life afraid of. Where once stood a great fear of yours now stands nothing more than a shadow of a man. Weak. Afraid. Vulnerable. 

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” you say in a voice much steadier than you feel. “You can’t marry me off, you can’t make me burn my books, and you can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What kind of demon are you?”

It occurs to you that you could tell him you’re not a demon. You’re just you, with a little added protection. But the realization that they are afraid of you wakes up something ugly inside of you. Something oily, that slithers, something wicked and sharp.

You don’t have to tell them you’re not a demon. You don’t have to tell them that you are. They have come to that conclusion themselves, and it has put them beneath you. Afraid of you. You’re more powerful than you’ve ever been in this home. 

So you let them think you are. “The kind that survived Nathaniel Laudermill beating me in the woods and trying to drown me.” 

Your father straightens. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to run and he- he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“Well, he did. And he paid for it, didn’t he?” 

When you say it, you have a sneaking suspicion that Nathaniel Laudermill is dead. When your father nods feebly at your question, the knowledge slides into place. You don’t feel bad. It almost horrifies you that you don’t, but you think of the burning in your lungs, his nails against your skin, the roaring of the water. 

You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.

“What do you want from us? Money? Our lives?”

“Nothing.” You realize it’s true, suddenly stricken with wondering why you came back at all. “I want you to go about your lives, and let me do what I will.” 

Pushing off the wall, you turn around and head out the front door. You feel their eyes on you as you go, but you don’t look back.

For now, you walk out into the woods. Crickets chirp happily, growing quiet as you walk by and starting once again when you’re a distance from them. Under the shade of the trees, it’s cold. The river isn’t flooded up into the woods anymore, but the ground is soft beneath your feet, mud giving way to your steps.

It feels different when you walk through the woods this time. They aren’t as vibrant. No Tiera is lurking in the boughs of the wisteria. There’s no lake with merfolk peering at you with large, alien eyes. A world that was once so full of life and peace feels unsaturated now. Devoid of color. 

A nasty feeling creeps up on you as you walk. You look for the creatures of the wood, hoping to see their bright colors and little lives. A snake slithers away from you, but it’s just that. A snake with normal scales, in a normal bush. A rabbit rushes by, quick as lightning, a blur of fur.

None of the birds have plumes of purple feathers. There’s no trilling song that sounds like dreams spun into notes, no smell of drifting sweetness on the wind. The air is damp and cold, and it smells like fresh earth and water. But there’s nothing about it that seems as vibrant as before.

By the river, the water rushes as fast as your thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect when you came home, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t your parents thinking you were a demon, but that isn’t the worst part. 

The worst part is that only after two weeks, your world has lost its magic. It pales in comparison to Yoongi’s world or even your imagination. You stare at the water you used to think rushed with so much promise, the waxy leaves that used to contain so many shades of green. Now they’re just leaves and the river is just water. 

A tingle presses at your neck. You turn, expecting Yoongi to be looming behind you. There’s no one there, but the feeling of awareness doesn’t go away. Frowning, you lean against the tree and stare out into the woods unseeing. 

Clove and cinnamon hang in the air. You close your eyes, inhaling. The tingle at the back of your neck feels familiar. In your mind, you feel it like a phantom touch, sliding from your neck across your shoulder, dragging down the length of your arms until there is a soft twitch in your palm. 

It’s easy to imagine Yoongi this way. But when you open your eyes, Yoongi isn’t there. The feeling doesn’t go away. But you always have that feeling out here, the something of other. Your heart flutters at the thought of the god lurking somewhere that you can’t see. 

A silly thought. You brush it away, trying not to delude yourself into fantasies that Yoongi has any interest in you beyond your deal and beyond that night in the woods where you asked for help. Yoongi’s kindness is just that, and though you dream of him often, you know the difference between your dreams and reality. 

Instead of leaving to go back to the house, you sit down on the ground. Closing your eyes, you imagine a brighter world. A more magical world. It’s easier to do this than to contend with the fact that the woods you loved so dearly are not as you remember them. 

This, at least, is familiar. Sitting in the woods for hours and imagining worlds away from yours. Now, you imagine a specific world, made up of twilight and mountains in the distance. With a wonderful castle full of rooms saturated with candlelight and books you’re learning how to read.

When your stomach growls, you’re forced to stop your imagination and get up. You feel a bit better, knowing that you can at least remember what Yoongi’s dream realm looks like. Two weeks. You have two weeks until you can go back, and until then, Yoongi expects you to study. 

Back at the house, your parents stare in silence when you enter. You hardly look at them, walking to the kitchen as though they are merely ghosts harboring the same space as you. Your movements are methodical as you make yourself lunch. When you reach for the knife to cut cheese, you feel the pointed look of your parents. 

Part of you wants to turn around and scream at them to scare them. Another part of you has divorced the idea of them as your parents already. Yet you do nothing, biting a piece of cheese as you finish plating your meal and go to your room. They say nothing. 

Sitting on your bed, you eat your meal. The world is quiet for the most part, though the muted sound of nature hums beyond your closed window. You realize there is a desk in your room stacked with books, parchment, and inkwells. 

Heart racing, you get up from your bed and cross the room. You wipe your fingers on your shirt as you pick up a note written in Yoongi’s neat scrawl. You chew your lip as you look at the swirls and dips of letters on paper, immediately intimidated at the prospect of making sense of the writing. 

You take the note with you to the bed and begin to parse the letters and sentences apart. It takes all of your concentration, going over the sounds each letter makes in your head to build a word. It’s not fast work and it isn’t easy, but after a while, you work out the first sentence. 

Do not forget to practice every day. 

A smile makes your mouth twitch, both in pride that you managed to work out the sentence and at the thought of Yoongi hunched over his desk writing you a note.  

The second sentence is trickier. Afternoon light pours through your window as you spend another fifteen minutes sounding out the letters, quietly muttering them to yourself until you’ve got full words to build the sentence.

I will be watching, so you better practice as often as you can. 

You bite your lip. It sounds like a playful threat, quietly muttered in one of Yoongi’s teasing moments. You can almost hear the soft rasp of his voice and picture the smirk that would accompany his words. You shiver before reading the final sentence. 

Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.

The desk is a nice touch. You don’t remember seeing it this morning and you wonder how it got there. Remembering Yoongi’s magic is overwhelming. You’re still unsure what the limits of his power are, if there are any at all. 

Hunched over the papers, you begin to trace letters again. It feels good to have the quill in your hand. You’re careful not to spill the ink all over the paper like you do when you’re practicing in the library - you have a limited amount of parchment here, compared to Yoongi’s endless amounts in the House of Dreams. 

It does beg the question whether he’ll drop you off more magical paper if you run out, though. 

By the time your hand is cramping too much to practice more and your head hurts, it’s evening. Your parents are locked away in their room when you come out. You can hear the soft voice of your mother go silent when they hear you enter the kitchen for food before heading out to the porch.

Twilight skies stretch above you. Sitting on the edge of the porch, you watch the world fade from purple to black. The stars begin to dot the sky, the moon making her climb upward. You grin, feeling relieved that maybe not all of your world has lost its magic. 

Perhaps it’s just the light of day you’re no longer interested in. The night is far more mysterious and alluring, calling to you as you finish your last bite of dinner. You set your plate down on the porch and hop down, feeling the soft grass beneath your bare feet.

The last time you entered the woods in the dark, you were almost killed. That memory alone makes you pause at the edge of the woods. Your mouth dries a little bit and though the urge to step into the shadow of the night is strong, the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on your hair is stronger.

You turn around quickly and walk back to the house, picking up the plate along the way. It feels shameful to be afraid of the dark woods, a sour taste in your mouth as you lock yourself in your room and crawl onto the bed. 

Closing your eyes, you try not to think about Nathaniel. His yelling haunts you, the phantom grip of his fingers pulling your hair, the way your mouth filled with water- a hooting owl disturbs your spiraling thoughts. 

You open your eyes, straining your ears, only to find silence. Just as you begin to close your eyes again, you hear the hoot once more. Turning toward the window next to your bed, you sit up and pop the latch, casting open one of the shutters. 

Above the house, the moon is a glowing coin in the sky. Everything her light touches is awash in grey. Sticking your head out of the window, you sweep your gaze back and forth, trying to look for the sound of the hooting.

As though it senses your gaze, the owl hoots again. You see it this time. A great horned owl stares at you from its perch on top of a pile of chopped wood. Its eyes are burnished gold, like two burning beacons in the night. It’s a stunning owl, all browns and whites, feathers luminous under the sheen of the moon. It moves its head in a circle, opening and closing its beak.

Then, the owl surprises you. You flinch and sit backward on your haunches as it takes flight, great wings flapping as it flies to your window and lands on the ledge. You gasp in delight. The creature is far bigger up close, its ochre eyes warm and intelligent. 

The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile. 

“Are you supposed to watch over me?” The owl chirps, a much higher-pitched noise than the hoot. “Hmm. I see. Do you have a name?”

The owl bobs its head from side to side in an uncanny movement. Though you’re not sure, you think it means to tell you no. “Well, what if I give you one?” The owl chirps again. “What about… Moony?” 

Fluffing its feathers, the owl shifts back and forth and lets out a hiss. You giggle, covering your mouth as the bird settles, looking at you in a way that certainly feels haughty and bothered. “Alright. What about… Dream?” Another hiss and a bob no. “Okay, well you’re making this quite difficult. What about…”

A dozen names run through your mind. You think of the owl as Yoongi’s way to watch over you at night. It makes you feel warm and far less alone than you were before. It’s nice knowing that you have a protector, someone to warn Yoongi if you’re ever in danger. Or to steer you away from your bad thoughts.

“How about Guardian?” you offer. It blinks two large eyes before chirping and bobbing its head in a circle, pleased at the name. You grin and slowly reach your hand forward. “I like it. Guardian, then.” 

Gently, the owl leans forward and lets you brush its feathers. They are silky under your touch, each plume delicate and wonderful. You can’t help but smile, stroking the owl's chest until it shuffles back and forth and gives a short hoot.

“Go on,” you urge. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll leave the window open?”

Guardian hoots in affirmation before shuffling its wings and flying off into the night. 

Laying in your back, you stare up through the open window, watching the stars go past. Slowly, you feel sleep pull at your edges, beckoning you to give in. You finally do, drifting asleep under the silver light of the moon and a blanket of stars. 

-

Yoongi sits in front of the fireplace in the library. You blink a few times, a little dazed. You don’t remember how you got here, but you know the smell of this library and you know that shadowy frame better than anything. It suddenly makes you ache to realize how much you miss it already. 

As if sensing your presence, Yoongi turns to look at you. He smirks, showing no sign of surprise at seeing you standing behind him. He gestures to the armchair next to him and you grin, quick to join him. 

Warmth leaps from the fireplace, the logs popping and crackling under the hungry, orange flames. Yoongi is dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants, his necklaces reflecting the burning light. He watches you sit down and fold your feet onto the chair. 

“Am I here? Or am I dreaming?” you ask. 

“Are both not possible?”

You think about it. “Well yes, I suppose they are. I’m dreaming but I can come here because I’m dreaming.”

“Clever girl.” Yoongi’s eyes dance as he looks you up and down. “How was your first day back?”

“Strange. I…” You chew on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs. Suddenly, you feel more at home than you did earlier that day in the place you were raised. You think about the woods out behind your house, the alien way you felt among trees that should be familiar. “It feels as though the world doesn’t hold as much magic anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like here. It is so vibrant and beyond imagining that now that I’ve gone back… nothing compares.”

Yoongi hums. “I promise you that there is so much magic in your world. There is real magic in living that cannot be found among the imaginary.” 

You rest your chin on your knees and sigh heavily. “If only I could find it.” 

“You will.” 

Silence passes between you. It’s comfortable. You watch the dancing fire, the world fading away. Though you are acutely aware that Yoongi is staring at your side profile, you don’t squirm or feel anxiety. You simply feel peace, happy to be here. Happy to be with him.

That makes your stomach flutter. At least you’re not dreaming of him in ways you shouldn’t tonight. As soon as you think about it, you feel your cheeks heat up hotter than the flames from the fireplace. 

After a little while Yoongi sighs, drawing your attention back to him. “You should sleep.” 

“I thought I was.”

“Sort of. You’re more… dreamwalking right now. You’re not really resting.” 

“Do I have to stay here?” The question is small. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask, suddenly filled with shame that you can’t even last a day in the world you’ve known for over twenty years. “There’s nothing for me here.”

“There is. You just have to find it again.”

“I don’t know how.” 

Yoongi stands up. You look up at him and see that his expression is soft. Kind. Your heart speeds up, tongue heavy in your mouth as he slowly reaches out to you. His hand hesitates for a second, pauses in mid-air like he’s unsure, and then he touches your cheek lightly. “Trust me.” 

Before you can respond, Yoongi is walking away. The skin on your cheek tingles where his fingers were a moment before, a shiver racing up your spine. You lift your hands to touch your cheek where his fingers were moments ago. You can’t help but smile, fondness for him growing. Blooming. 

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and settle into real sleep. 

-

Tap tap tap. 

You twitch your nose and roll your head to the side, sniffing. For a moment, it felt like something had been tapping your nose, almost waking you from sleep. You start to sink back into it, pulling your covers tighter as your thoughts drift… further…

Tap tap tap. 

You frown. Now you’re awake, your thoughts clawing their way to break the surface of sleep. When you finally collect yourself and register that you’re waking up, you open your eyes to reveal a face hovering inches from yours, so close that you cannot make out the features. 

A shriek rips through your room as you scramble away from the face, clutching your blanket. You slam into the wall near the window, heart hammering as you press yourself flat, trying to make yourself small. 

Taehyung falls backwards on his ass, covering his ears and giving you a ghastly expression, as though horrified to be screamed at in such a manner. Your hand clutches your chest as you realize it’s him sitting on your floor and him who had been inches from your face - tapping your nose. 

“What are you doing?” you holler at him, fisting your blankets. You suddenly feel sick, the adrenaline making your stomach turn and your head spin. Groaning, you lay on your side, squeezing your eyes shut. Colors coalesce behind your eyelids as you take deep breaths, hoping it will pass. “Are you insane?”

“Well, that is up for debate.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him. 

Taehyung sits with his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he grins at you, giddy. He’s dressed in a flowing white shirt with laces at the front that he’s kept open, revealing a tanned chest. His shirt is tucked into brown trousers and you spot a small chain with a charm tied through one of his belt loops.

You think you recognize the charm from one of Yoongi’s necklaces. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting, obviously.”

“You can just… visit?” 

“I do what I want.” 

As the adrenaline rush fades, you slowly sit up, glaring at the man on your floor. “I doubt that. How did you get in here, anyway?” 

“Your window is open.” 

The window in question is still wide open from last night, only now, morning light streams through. The air is cool and smells of rain, the wind rushing through the trees and making them bend and dance under its guidance. A robin flits from bough to bough, singing. 

“So you came through the window?” 

“No, I came through the front door. No one else is home.” 

“Then why did you say you came through the window?”

“I didn’t. I said the window was open.” Taehyung gives you a white, square grin. You clench your teeth and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. Though you’re pleased to see him, you’re equally as vexed by his teasing. “Anyway, I want you to show me around.”

“Show you around what?” 

He gets up from the floor, clapping his hands together to get rid of the dirt and dust before doing the same to his pants. He shrugs, giving you a cheery smile. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I want to see what your life here was like.” 

“It wasn’t very good.”

“That’s okay. I want to see it anyway.” 

Slowly, you get out of bed. He makes room for you, walking over toward the desk where your writing practice sheets are. He flips through them, examining your work as you eye him, stretching. Your joints pop and you groan, eyes fluttering at the release of tension. 

“Why?” you ask. He looks up at you, brows raised in a question. “Why do you want to see?”

Taehyung contemplates his answer. He taps one long finger on top of your tracing. “You’re getting better.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms, regarding you steadily. “I’ll make you a deal. Show me about your life here. Teach me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.” 

That sparks your interest. You know so little about Taehyung, even in the two weeks that you’ve lived in the House of Dreams. He is a charming mystery, someone who speaks in riddles and likes to goad you and talk about so much that you realize he talks about nothing at all. At least, not anything substantial. 

For the amount of things you know about Taehyung, like how he enjoys cinnamon in his tea or that his favorite color is green like the bottom of the lake, or how his favorite snacks are honey cakes or that music makes him cry, you also know… nothing about him. Where he comes from. Who he was before he was Yoongi’s companion in a big, lonely castle. 

Sighing, you walk up to him and extend your arm. “Deal.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm and tingles when you shake it. He grins at you, happier than ever before he drops your hand and gestures at your clothes. “Well go on,” he says. “Change out of your nighties. Unless of course, you’d like to stay in them.”

“Get out of my room and I will!”

He raises his brows. “Don’t want me to watch? How boring.” 

You don’t take his teasing to heart. You’ve already adapted to Taehyung’s jesting and prodding, learning that it’s a key part to the way that he shows his affections. For the first few days, you’d thought perhaps he didn’t like you much, but after seeing him rib Yoongi for two hours straight in the library, you realized it was good that he was teasing you.

You open the small trunk of clothes and slide on pants and a loose shirt. When you enter the main house, you find Taehyung standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the woods with a frown. Tucking in your shirt, you step out onto the porch, the wood creaking underneath your weight. 

“What is it?” you ask when Taehyung doesn’t turn to greet you. His eyes are dark and there’s an expression on his face that makes you nervous. “Is there something out there?”

Instead of answering directly, he asks, “Is that where Yoongi found you?” 

Oh. Oh. Taehyung is looking at the woods where you ran off the night that your parents tried to make you marry Nathaniel. You nod and hum, trying not to think much about it as you finish tucking in the shirt and adjusting the material. 

“There’s a bad energy there,” Taehyung observes. He turns away from the woods finally and drops his hands at his side. “You should stay away from that place moving forward.”

“I didn’t exactly go in there on purpose.”

“I know.” Something flashes in his eyes. “Best not to do it again, if you can help it. You can go into the woods, just not there.” 

“Okay…” 

You wait for Taehyung to elaborate, but he doesn’t. A chill settles over your skin, the wind picking up to rustle the trees. He shrugs and grins, the dark expression gone in a flash as he gestures for you to enter back through the house and leave by way of the front door. 

Taheyung follows you, a bounce to his step as he hurries to walk next to you. You say nothing as you lead him out of the yard and toward the main road by your home that leads into town, your stomach fluttering with nervousness as you go. 

If Taehyung is confused as to why you’re not starting the story of your life at home, he doesn’t let on. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks next to you, his feet crunching the gravel beneath his boots and the wind lifting his hair.

Studying Taehyung’s side profile, you think he looks like something from a dream. He has the kind of beauty that seems purposeful and handcrafted, each one of his features carefully designed to be the wonderful, glowing being that he is. 

You don’t know what he is, really. But you’ve made a deal and you have to deliver on your end first. 

“We live a bit away from town,” you say eventually. “My father inherited the house after his father, who was a very talented wood carver. He used to cut the trees here himself and decide which tree was perfect for what project, which is why we live almost thirty minutes from town.” 

“A wood carver is a nice talent to have.”

You nod. “He was very good. It made a good income. My father had no talent for it, though, and opened up a store instead. He sold my grandfather’s wares and then eventually added items from other folks in town, including my mother's clothes. She’s a seamstress.” 

“You were wearing a dress the night Yoongi brought you home.”

Home. Taehyung says it so easily, like he’s already accepted that the House of Dreams is yours as much as it’s his. A warm feeling blooms through you, and you look up at Taehyung and smile at him despite the looming subject of the doomed wedding dress. He returns your smile just as broadly, even if he doesn’t know the reason for your sudden turn of happiness. 

“Yeah. That was one she made,” you sigh, turning back to the road. “A wedding dress.” 

“It was beautiful, but I did burn it in the fire.” You look at him with your brows raised and he gives you a sheepish shrug. “You were assaulted in that dress. We wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I’m glad that you did. I never want to remember that night again.”

“Good. Memories have a way of haunting us, even when we don’t know it.” 

Taehyung’s tone is ominous. Instead of asking him what he means, you let his weighted silence fall around you, propelling the both of you toward the town. 

As you get closer, houses and other roads begin to pop up. You see the pathways leading up to the homes of your neighbors, pointing out each one to Taehyung along with filling him in on summaries of their family histories and gossip. He listens with a conspiratorial smirk, gasping and asking you scandalous questions as you whisper rumors you’ve long heard from eavesdropping on your parents. 

Gossiping with Taehyung is nice. You feel lighter than you had the day before, nearly skipping as you near the town proper. You start passing people on the road. Normally, you’d greet the ones you know. Now, you hear gasps as people flinch when they see you, making signs with their hands to ward off evil. 

You blink in surprise, glancing at Taehyung for his reaction. He frowns when he sees the second group of people do it. By the third, he pulls a snarling face at them, making a child cry. You jam your finger in his ribs and he hisses in pain, shoving lightly back.

“What?” he demands. “You’re not evil. That sign doesn’t do anything, either. If one of the more malevolent deities wanted to snatch them, they would.”

“Really?”

Taehyung rubs his ribs where you poked him. You pass the bakery owned by the Yen family, heavenly smells wafting out the door. “Of course they would,” he huffs. “Most deities aren’t bound by the rules and logic the mortals try to make to create a sense of safety from them. Many can simply do what they want.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“Because of Eternals, like Yoongi. The gods who are always here, never changing. That’s why they’re called Eternals.” 

“I see. There’s seven of them, right?” Taehyung hums the affirmative. As you pass a music shop, Taehyung slows. His hands are linked behind his back as he eyes the instruments through the window and gestures at them. You nod and follow him indoors, the bell on the door above chiming. “So other deities are afraid of them?”

“Of course they are,” Taehyung muses. He stops to admire a mandolin. “Yoongi, for example, is a being that creates dreams themselves. He manipulates reality. He can create things on a whim. He’s almost as powerful as life.”

“Really?”

“What are dreams if not creation? The difference isn’t all that big, though it drives Seokjin mad to admit it.”

“Who?”

Taehyung plucks the string of another instrument. You don’t know what it is, but the note is sharp, making you cringe. “Life, of course.”

“You know Life? What are you?”

He glances at you sidelong. “We’re supposed to learn about you first. I’m doing a lot of talking.”

“Not like it’s hard to get you going,” you mutter. 

Taeyung shoots you a scowl, but is interrupted by the shop owner coming around the corner. He’s a man in his late thirties, greeting Taehyung politely and wiping his hands on his trousers. He asks Taehyung if he’s looking for anything and just as Taehyung leans out of the way to reveal you standing behind him, the shop owner’s eyes go to you and he gasps, stumbling backward. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers, his back bumping into a shelf of items. You feel a shiver slip down your spine as you stare at him, arms tingling. He makes the symbol to ward off evil, the whites of his eyes wild. “Evil. Evil creature, you are a demon. You do not-”

“Another word,” Taehyung cuts in, his voice dark in a tone you’ve never heard. “And I’ll show you what evil is, sir.” 

“G-god of Light spare me.”

“Your God of Light won’t answer.” Taehyung spins on his heel, facing you. His expression is thunder, his gaze dark and eyes wild as he hisses, “Speak their name all you wish. It's not daytime in here, sir.” 

For the two weeks you’ve known Taehyung, you’ve never seen him like this. The room feels oppressive and dark, and you swear the lights have dimmed, shadows pressing up against the wall as Taehyung strides forward and passes you, taking your arm firmly in his hand.

Taehyung escorts you out of the store, walking swiftly. When you hit daylight, the oppressive dark sheds itself immediately. Taehyung’s presence dims with the sun beating down on him and turning his skin copper, black hair shining almost blue in the light.

He lets go of your arm and shoots you a troubled gaze. “Don’t listen to him,” he grunts. “You’re not a demon, nor are you evil.”

“My parents called me the same thing.” He scowls and begins pacing. To keep him moving, you start walking toward the other side of town where the old cemetery and abandoned church is. You don’t know why you go there, but you’re drawn to it. “They called me a demon.” 

“Demons are much nastier. You might be annoying, but certainly not a demon.”

You scowl and he shrugs. “I didn’t realize everyone here thought I died. I thought I would come back and it would be…”

“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder. 

The houses on the edge of town are shabbier than the rest. People hesitate in their doorways, staring at you and the tall, handsome man next to you. You see them do the warding sign as you go, and you squeeze your hands into fists as they do. 

Weeds crawl up the side of the old church. The structure leans heavily to the left, the stairs unusable and the ceiling fallen in. Instead of walking up the hazardous steps and inside the dilapidated building, you lead Taehyung around it, where the grass grows higher than your knees and the sound of grasshoppers buzzing by you follows. 

A dry-rotted fence surrounds what was once a graveyard. You walk toward it, leading Taehyung until he starts slowing down a few paces behind you. You stop and turn over your shoulder to look at him, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

Taehyung looks thoughtful, dark eyes scanning the area. He’s stopped walking entirely, head cocked to the side. “Why’d you bring me here?” 

“I don’t know. I just… walked in this direction. I used to come here for the silence, sometimes.”

Taehyung has a strange look on his face. “Is that so?” 

“Why do you look like that?” 

“How long has this place been here?” 

“The church closed before I could remember. Honestly, they said it was haunted by this graveyard, which has been here a lot longer than the church. Even the oldest families in town don’t have their dead buried here. Rumor has it that it was built long before the town was.” 

Taehyung starts walking normally again. Side by side, you begin to navigate around the graveyard. “And you come here? Why?” 

“It’s quiet. When I was too young to stay at the house alone, my mom would bring me to town while she ran errands. I was allowed to explore, but I liked to come here.”

“Most kids are afraid of places of the dead.” 

You shrug. “It was quiet, and it gave me time to imagine things. I liked to make up fantasies about the old gods here or… what I imagined they might be. Of heroes descended from them, maybe.” 

“And you felt drawn here?” 

You startle when a grasshopper shoots across the grass in front of you. You laugh as it vanishes into the foliage. “Yeah, it just felt… safe.” 

“Strange.” 

“Am I allowed to ask why or are you going to complain you’re talking too much again?”  He snorts and gestures for you to continue. “Why is that strange? Beyond the fact that it’s, you know, a graveyard.” 

Sighing, Taehyung squints up at the line of trees nearby. His hand hovers along the tops of the grass as he runs it over each blade, letting the tips tickle his hands. You’re almost waist high in grass, glancing down to make sure you don’t step into any holes. 

“This place is old. The people of the church felt haunted because they were. Death owns this land.” 

You frown. “Well, the dead are here. The other graveyard doesn’t feel the same.”

“You misunderstand me. Death - the Eternal. His presence is all over. Someone important to him must be buried here.” 

“Oh.” 

You stop and think about that. Turning to look at the unmarked and lime washed tombstones, you scan for any sign of Death. You have no idea what you’re looking for. Ivy and time have taken over most of the concrete slabs, and none of the names or dates are legible by now. They’re just hewn stone, buried in green and grime. 

But you feel something here, a tingling on the back of your neck like the one you felt in the woods by your house. A chill wind blows over the land, sweeping the grass and rattling the trees. You feel the breeze against your neck, cool as fingers trailing down your spine. 

Suddenly, you feel a buzz on your skin. It’s not so different from Yoongi’s presence, and it chills you. 

You look up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of Death. Death is neither good nor bad, he just is. He only takes those who are ready.” 

“Have you met - um - Death?” 

Taehyung nods. “He is a man of few words, but Namjoon is unwaveringly kind and wise.”

“Strange that I was drawn to coming here.” You head back toward the town. The sun passes its zenith and makes its way into the early afternoon. “Is this whole place filled with Eternals or what?”

“No, it’s actually a rather unremarkable location. Namjoon lingers in many places. Yoongi was simply drawn here.” 

“By what?” 

Instead of answering the question, Taehyung sticks his hands in his pockets. “Show me more of your town.” 

So you do. Taehyung is a good companion. Where Yoongi would quietly observe and make sounds to indicate that he’s listening and admires the things you’re talking about, Taehyung asks questions. You realize he’s a tactile person as well. He touches things as he walks by them, brushing his fingers on fabric, touching jewelry at vendor stands.

Everywhere you go is a similar reaction to the instrument store. People seem happy to see Taehyung at first before they see you, fear making them lean away and ward you off. You realize you don’t know how much time has passed since you vanished from the woods and returned. 

When you ask Taehyung, he shrugs and explains that time moves differently and inconsistently. It could have been a day, it could have been a week, it could have been five months. By the looks on the faces of those you pass, you think perhaps it’s been a little longer than you anticipated.

Part of you wonders what lie your parents must have told them about your death. You almost want to ask, but you don’t, anxiety stilling your tongue. You probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to anyone to ask anyway. 

By the time the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the moon has begun its climb, you and Taehyung stop at the tavern to eat. Your stomach rumbles as you step into the warmth of the room behind Taehyung, and you notice that the place goes quiet.

It’s subtle at first, something you don’t notice as you kick dirt off your shoes, but the hush becomes so intense that you can’t help but look up, gaze sweeping the room as everyone turns to stare at you. 

Behind the counter, the barkeep straightens. His name is Sloan - you’ve known him since you were a little girl - and he looks less than happy at your arrival.

“I know I’m pretty,” Taehyung announces loudly, tossing the hair out his eyes. “But you don’t need to stare.”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Sloan says, voice wavering like he’s unsure if he means it. “Begone, demon. We are men and women of life and light!”

You swallow thickly and look around, feeling prickly heat crawl up your neck. 

Like at the music shop, something happens to Taehyung, except this time, it’s stronger than before. The candles in the chandelier and on the tables flicker in a phantom wind and darkness pulses in the room. You feel energy rolling off of him and you swear Taehyung gets darker as he steps forward, his presence oppressive and threatening. 

There is crying and gasping in the room as he seethes. “We are not demons, and you will not disallow this woman to enter your shops, your homes, or anywhere else she wishes.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry. 

He doesn’t seem to hear you. You swear there is thunder in the distance. Whatever power belonging to Taehyung is tenfold now that the night sky stretches over the tavern. “Refuse her service, and there will be consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, snatching his sleeve. You pull his attention to you. His eyes are like two obsidian coins. There is something sharp and lupine about his face, sending your heart hammering. “Stop. This is making it worse.” 

“They should not insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

He softens a touch. “It isn’t. You are not… they do not understand you.”

“They never have. Come on, let’s just go.”

For a second, you think he might not. You don’t know what Taehyung is or what he can do. It doesn’t frighten you, though. Because whatever Taehyung is and whatever his intentions are, he’s linked to Yoongi. Yoongi would never put you in harm's way or let Taehyung near you if he was a threat.

Even after such a short period of time, you know this in your heart of hearts.

Taehyung relents and the light returns to the room. No one makes a sound, all eyes on Taehyung as he lets you pull him out of the door and into the night. You immediately feel better outside, the moon washing your skin in light and the stars watching you march into the street. 

“You can’t just threaten everyone who insults me,” you snap, though you’re not really mad at him. “They’re only going to hate me more. And they will think you’re a demon when you do that.”

“I’m far more powerful than a demon,” he sniffs primly. “And they should not insult you. You have the favor of Dream. You are -” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, you’re far above their station. They know nothing.”

“Far above their station,” you snort, crushing a rock under the toe of your boot. “I’m a girl who was strange when they knew me before they thought I was dead, and now they think I’m a demon walking around with her scary demon husband. Or perhaps they think you are an evil entity.” 

“Don’t make that joke around Yoongi,” Taehyung mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Before you can ask what that means, he says, “What if I took you somewhere instead, then?”

You raise your brows and look around. “Where?”

“Well not here. Somewhere familiar to me, where they won’t ostracize you.”

“We’re going to travel in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung gives you a square grin that lights up the world. “Time to learn about how we travel.”

-

You almost vomit on Taehyung’s shoes. He squeals and steps out of the way as you bend over, holding your middle as bile burns its way up your throat and splatters onto the gravel beneath you. It feels like your world is spinning and you’ve lost your center of gravity, having been pulled by something sharp in your stomach into a vortex of what felt like twisting and spinning.

It could only have lasted a second, but Taehyung has to hold you up for a moment as you gasp for air, the taste in your mouth sour and gross. You crane your face to look at him, glaring as he winces. He had given you no warning of what his travel was like or how it would feel.

You’re not looking forward to it again.

“What,” you pant, “was that?”

“Teleportation, mostly. I kind of forgot what it feels like when you’re… human. You get a little scrambled.”

The nausea makes your throat clench and unclench again. You dig your fingers into his arm as you dry heave but nothing comes up. “A little?” you rasp. The world slows its spinning and the watering feeling in your mouth that preludes puking fades. “That was awful.”

“Sorry, it’s different than portaling. That’s more stepping through the door while teleportation is like... Jumping.”

“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”

Taehyung pats your back heartily as you stand up straight. The stars swim above you in a spiraling cosmos. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, waiting as the nausea fades away and the world around you bleeds into the forefront of your attention span. 

Noise hums from in front of you. You’re standing in an alleyway, looking up at the side of a building. It looks a bit like an inn, but you can hear the clamor of a crowd and loud voices coming from inside. Each window is curtained, keeping wandering eyes and the moonlight outside. 

Taehyung leads you around to the front of the building. It’s two stories and on the first floor there’s a porch filled with chairs and gambling tables. There are men and women draped over the furniture, smoking sweet-smelling cigars and laughing loudly as they throw dice on the table. 

Women and men in various states of undress sit on the laps of the others. You feel heat crawl up your neck as you avert your eyes, looking up at the sign hanging over the building that says Desert Rose. Nervousness tingles at the back of your neck as Taehyung strolls up the steps to what you’re sure is a brothel and a gambling den, greeting people as he goes.

You’re shocked that Taehyung knows people here. You’re sure that you’re still in… your dimension, as Yoongi calls it. The people here talk with an accent that is different from what you’re used to, but you still understand the language, even while struggling to keep up with the lilt.

Eyes follow you as Taehyung leads you inside. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and loud voices. Tables are pressed closely together, filled with people. There’s a bar at the back of the room and a small bard and band in a corner, singing a raucous song with the crowd about Lady Trown who gets around and will go down. 

“Where did you bring me?” you ask Taehyung as he guides you through the rowdy room. A woman falls over a card game laughing, her breasts spilling out of her shirt while another woman plants a kiss right on her mouth. “This place is - is -”

There are no words for it. You’ve never been somewhere that is so openly indecent and carnal in your life and yet… the colors and the sounds and the overflowing joy hit you like an arrow to the chest. You can’t help but be drawn to look at the exposed bodies before darting your gaze away, only to be drawn somewhere else out of insatiable curiosity. 

“A haven!” Taehyung offers as he leans on the bar. “Two pints of whatever!” 

You press close against him, hands shooting to his shirt as someone pushes by you. It’s a little overwhelming and you feel hot all over. Taehyung shoves a wooden tankard of amber liquid into your hands and grins, raising another to his lips before taking several swigs, liquid running down his chin and neck. 

He comes away and smacks his lips, giving you a delighted grin. “It’s awful, just the way I like it!”

You take a sip and make a face. The watered-down ale is certainly nothing like the sweet wine Yoongi likes to treat you to over dinner. Taehyung seems to know this, laughing loudly as he leads you through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner. 

Back against the wall, you take a moment to look around the room. There are card and dice games being held at multiple tables, alongside other games with rune-marked stones, cups and trinkets that you don’t recognize.

It’s wildly different from anything back home. You’ve never been to a brothel - at least, you think this place qualifies for one, based on the various states of undress and a few couples doing something that makes you avert your eyes - but this is nice. In its own loud and carnal way.

Taehyung people-watches with you. He feeds you information on the faces that he recognizes, lips curling as he gossips. He looks alive and happy, his golden skin glowing with a radiance that seems a little magical. 

“So is it my turn to ask questions?” you ask, sipping the awful beer as you look over at Taehyung. His gaze reluctantly strays away from watching a card game where you’re pretty sure the woman who is winning is cheating. “Or do I still have to talk about myself?” 

He smirks. “You can ask questions, a deal is a deal.”

“What is this place?” 

“The Desert Rose.” 

You glare. “What is this place to you?” 

Taehyung takes a sip of his ale and grins, winking at you. “A better question. This place is somewhere I used to visit when I wanted to feel alive. When I wanted to feel humanity for its raw intensity.”

“So you’re not human.” He shakes his head. His face grows a little hesitant, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. “What are you?” 

“I’m a dream.” 

You blink once. Twice. You expect Taehyung to start laughing and indicate that he was teasing you, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair, watching you evenly with his dark eyes. 

“What?” you finally ask.

“I’m a dream. The second ever, actually.”

You think about what you’ve observed of Taehyung. The way that he seems to draw people in, the animated manner in which he speaks. He seems to contain so many multitudes of the things you know that Yoongi enjoys, and yet so many things that press Yoongi’s buttons and rattle him. 

Taehyung is… beautiful. Enchanting. Both to look at, and to talk to. He has a carefree personality and you know he’s magical, having witnessed it in the House of Dreams in snippets but also today, when he became angry and the darkness seemed to swell around him. Not to mention his awful teleportation to wherever you are in the world now.

He is exactly the kind of person you always imagined being the lead in your fantasies. Brave and charming, handsome and adventurous. He looks like he belongs here, melding to the energy around him, fitting in perfectly.

Suddenly, the thought of Taehyung being a dream makes more sense than anything else. A being of infinite possibilities, one who can shape themselves to anyone and anything, who can sense what people want and become that very thing.

You’re not sure what the complexities of dreams are, but you understand the very basics from Yoongi: most dreams are flexible and full of infinite possibilities. It’s what makes them so real, so strong. 

“That makes a lot of sense,” you murmur. “So you’re old.”

“Very.”

“If you’re the second dream…” you trail off, thinking about how Yoongi explained how he came to existence. How life dreamed and so he was born. “Yoongi is the first. That’s why you say he is Dream - he is the first and the essence of dreams.”

“Very clever.”

“When you said you came here to feel alive, what did you mean by that?”

He sighs heavily. “Yoongi was born because Life dreamed of - well, making life. And when Yoongi was born, he was the very concept of dreaming itself. Imagination, creation, wonder, hope. It’s why creation and dreaming are so close in their nature. But still, there is a difference between lifeforms and dreams.” 

“You wanted to know what it was like to feel life?”

He nods. “Yoongi made me as his first companion. He couldn’t help it, really. He didn’t make me on purpose so much as he thought of someone to spend time with, someone to offset him. To balance him. And then there I was.” 

You chew on your lip. There is a distant look in Taehyung’s gaze. He stares at his ale, not drinking anymore. He picks at splinters in the tankard handle, the noise around the two of you a dull roar. 

“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance. 

“But,” he agrees, nodding. “When Life created humans, I wondered what the difference was between us. I sort of looked like them and I talked like them, but I wanted to know what it was like to be them. And dreams… They are wonderful. Beautiful. But I was afraid they weren’t real, so I started to visit here. To go places. To see if life was the same as dreams.” 

“Is it?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s just different. But I did learn that dreams are as real as life. Perhaps you cannot always see them and feel them depending on where you are, but anything someone dreams here is real there.” 

“That’s sort of comforting.” 

Taehyung smiles. “It is. Plus, I really enjoy people. They have an edge to them that dreams don’t.” 

Someone catches Taehyung’s attention. He turns in his seat, head craning as though he senses something. You follow his line of sight to where a young man descends the stairs leading up to the second floor. He is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with dark, silky hair tucked behind his ears, full lips that pull into a smile as someone greets him, and sharp, dark eyes that crinkle when he laughs.

He’s beautiful. Suddenly you think that this might be what a dream truly looks like. Taehyung is all dark and shadows, but the man Taehyung watches is lightness and magic, his face so perfect that you cannot help but imagine it must be the result of someone carefully painting every feature. 

Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung when the man leans on the bar, talking to the barmaid behind the counter. Taehyung doesn’t move. You don’t even think he’s breathing. He sits in his chair, knuckles paling under the grip he has on the back of his seat, his eyes filled with such sudden longing that you have to look away. 

“Who is that?” you ask gently. Taehyung doesn’t seem to hear you. He watches and watches, wanting to look nowhere else but at the bar. “Taehyung?”

“His name is Jimin.” 

“That’s a pretty name.”

Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“He dreams loud enough for us to hear it. For me to hear it. I’ve been coming to this place long before he existed. A silly coincidence that he exists here, too.” 

“Fate, perhaps?” 

That makes Taehyung turn around. His expression is dark and he’s frowning. “Don’t start talking about Hoseok,” Taehyung mutters. “Lest he show up.”

You didn’t mean Yoongi’s sibling Fate, but you realize that’s who Taehyung is talking about. Your eyes drift back to where Jimin is at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. As though he senses eyes on him, his gaze sweeps the bar until it lands on Taehyung, who straightens immediately. 

Jimin smiles and it’s like watching the first ray of sun break over the horizon. You can’t help but blink at his radiant beauty, completely taken aback by it as Jimin pushes off of the bar and begins heading your direction. 

Taehyung swivels in his chair, taking in a few calming breaths. You giggle and he looks up at you, giving you a pitiful smile. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand quickly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You definitely are.”

Before Taehyung can hiss a rebuttal at you, Jimin sidesteps a woman and grins at Taehyung. He drags his gaze to you and startles, as though he had not realized you were there, eyes going round and mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with anyone,” Jimin says. His voice is soft and smooth, immediately comforting. “I wanted to come say hello.”

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes, blinking up at Jimin as though he is lost in starlight. Perhaps he is, you think. “Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you.”

Jimin flushes, a hand coming up to touch the ends of his hair gently. “Yeah, I thought I would grow it out.”

“It looks great.” 

For a moment, they stare at one another, Taehyung grinning with his eyes gleaming, and Jimin soft with his eyes scrunched. You look at the table, trying not to disrupt whatever spell they’re under as they peer at one another, but it seems Jimin senses your presence still. His eyes flicker to you and he raises a brow, questioning.

Taehyung fumbles to introduce you, turning and giving you a sheepish grin. You smile and stretch your hand over to shake Jimin’s. His hands are small and delicate but his grip is firm. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung wanted to show me this place because he enjoys the people so much - I believe that includes you.” 

Jimin smirks and shrugs a shoulder while Taehyung looks for a chair, yanking it away from someone to give Jimin a place to sit. He does, throwing Taehyung a grateful smile. “Hmm, is that so? Has he said nice things about me?”

“The nicest. In fact, the whole reason we came here is because he wanted to introduce me to the amazing Jimin.” 

Taehyung shoots you a look that tells you to shut up, but you hide your grin in your tankard as Jimin raises a brow, glancing at Taehyung. 

Watching Taehyung and Jimin is comedic and sweet. Taehyung isn’t an entirely different person around Jimin, but he becomes softer at the edges, his smiles gentler and his laughs louder. The longing in Taehyung’s gaze when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking is palpable, and even as a bystander and a friend, you feel a pang watching the two of them dance around one another. 

For his part, Jimin seems equally enthralled. He watches Taehyung with rapt attention, asking questions and touching Taehyung gently everywhere he can - the tops of Taehyung’s hands, his arm, his elbow. When Taehyung turns around to watch the table next to you topple over, you realize he’s unaware that Jimin is looking at him as though begging for Taehyung to see. 

You see. And you want. 

Never before had your parents inspired much desire for love in you. While they worked well together, you still can’t call what they had happy or loving. Functional, sure. Successful, even. But they did not look at one another the way Taehyung and Jimin seem to, and you can’t help but suddenly feel like that is something you want.

Someone to look at you when they think you’re not looking in a way that implies you are their sun and moon. Someone who smiles with such mirth at something you do or say that you can feel the heat of it. 

Jimin gets up to refill the drinks, scooping yours with a grin before vanishing in the crowd. Taehyung watches him go, craning his neck to ensure he has eyes on Jimin as he makes his way to the bar.

“Have you told him you’re in love with him?” 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes never leaving where Jimin is leaning over the bar to order. “There’s no point.” 

“What? Why not?”

“I’m a dream. He’s a human. We could never be something.” 

“Oh. Surely there’s a way?” 

Taehyung turns to look at you, the joy on his face slipping to be replaced with a soft sadness. He shakes his head again, picking at the splinters on the table. “I would be no good for him. We live in two different worlds… I come and go… He deserves a normal, human life. We could never be something.”

Jimin starts to head back toward the table. Taehyung shakes off the melancholy and smiles just as bright when Jimin returns, as though he wasn’t sad only a moment ago. You accept the refilled drink from Jimin with a weak smile.

Taehyung’s words cycle through your mind as the two men fall into giggling conversation, and all you can think about is a pair of dark cat eyes, a soft raspy voice, and a man who is made of dreams.

We could never be something. 

-

“I was starting to worry, you know?” 

Yoongi’s voice makes you blink. You realize you’re standing among the wisteria, the breeze carrying their sweet scent over your warm skin. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s leaning against a tree, his long hair down and dancing in the breeze. The thin white shirt he wears does little to hide the lines of his stomach and chest today, making you avert your eyes. 

“Why?” you ask, voice steadier than you feel. 

You walk toward a low-hanging vine, bringing your hands up to brush along the purple petals. You feel the tree shiver under your touch. You sense it, like it purrs, a response that is hard to explain but you innately know. 

“It took you longer than usual to fall asleep.”

“Can you not see me when I’m not asleep?”

“I could, but prying is rude. I only see you when you come to me.”

You turn to look at him sharply. He seems a little smug at that, the corners of his full lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. Your heart skips a beat for a moment before Taehyung’s words from that night play in your mind. We could never be something. 

And yet Yoongi is implying it’s you who visits him. 

You scowl and turn away from him suddenly. Yoongi makes a sound like a sigh and pushes off of the tree, his footsteps quiet as a whisper. “Have I upset you?” 

“I want to go to sleep.”

He hesitates. You cannot see his expression, but you can picture it perfectly: brows drawn together, mouth pouted slightly, head cocked.  His confusion is evident when he says, “You are asleep.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Silence, for a moment. Then, in that soft, rasping voice that you know so well, he murmurs, “Goodnight, then.” 

-

Silence greets you when you wake up the next morning. Your home is still empty - you have not seen either of your parents since you arrived the night before. Either you’re coming and going at hours they’re not around or they’re avoiding you. The latter is most likely, and you certainly don’t mind. 

Your day goes similarly to the day before. This time, when you walk through the woods, you feel a little more of a spark. You’re sure it has to do with your conversation with Taehyung, his words about dreams and reality being different but equally powerful pouring a little bit of magic back into the woods you loved so dearly.

Still, you miss the other realm and the House of Dreams, even if you’re a little embarrassed by your dream last night, recalling the way you dismissed Yoongi. 

Sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a cypress tree, you let out a heavy sigh and close your eyes, your arms hugging around your middle. You try not to think too hard about the way Yoongi looked leaning against the tree, dark eyes drinking you in. 

Yoongi occupies more than his fair share of thoughts. You hate it, the way your mind strays to him, thinking this is something Yoongi would like or Yoongi would find this funny. Only two weeks and he and Taehyung are suddenly all you know, your experiences with them painting most of your thoughts. 

Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though. 

The fluttering feeling every time you think of Yoongi has not faded with time or distance. It might be easier if he didn’t visit your dreams every night - or if you didn’t visit him in your dreams, which you don’t know how to do. 

But Taehyung’s forlorn words come drifting back to you, reminding you that there is some distinction between humans and dreams. That even for Taehyung, it cannot work. 

When you return home, your parents still aren’t there. You busy yourself with lunch and then begin practicing your letters, tracing them until your hand is cramping and your head is starting to hurt. You manage to take up most of the afternoon that way, focused solely on your studies and trying to read through your work.

Just as evening falls, Taehyung appears in the yard, hands on his hips as he looks up at your window, whistling to catch your attention. You grin when you see him, happy to have a friend, even if it’s just Taehyung. You don’t ask why Yoongi doesn’t come with him - the Eternal is busy, you’re sure - but you’re pleased to just have Taehyung. 

It becomes a routine. It’s not as thrilling as your life in the House of Dreams, but it isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. The few times that you do see your parents, they glare at you as though you have become something evil in their house, lurking and stealing their joy. 

You say nothing to them and they stay away from you. 

It’s the same in town. You only visit with Taehyung, otherwise you are too afraid to go on your own. The villagers say nothing when they see the two of you walking around and visiting the old church, but they glare and you catch them doing the signs to ward off evil as you pass by. 

Still, Taehyung makes it worth it. He visits you nightly, whisking you away to the Desert Rose, which has become a refuge for you. You’re no better at teleporting, but you manage not to vomit on his shoes each time you do it. 

Tonight, the energy is thrumming at the Desert Rose. Your gaze lingers longer on those around you and you even introduce yourself to the people that Taehyung is familiar with. Though Taehyung opts to play a game of dice, you do not. You’re content to watch, standing over his shoulder with your arms crossed over your chest.

You feel… alive. Just like Taehyung described when he started coming here. It’s so different from your life before, and after over a week of being around people who seem to spill over with joy without restraint, you feel yourself loosening up. Becoming something a little different. Someone who wants. Someone who wants openly. 

You think about Yoongi. Once he’d told you that he wasn’t just Eternal of dreams. He also has power over desire, and he believes in indulgence. He wants to teach you to indulge more. It suddenly makes all the more sense that Taehyung likes it here. He’s someone who dives in head first to things, taking any bet someone throws his way and snatching drinks off of passing trays. 

Even his desire for Jimin is open and obvious, though you’re sure Taehyung doesn’t know that. 

It’s a lovely night. You feel warm all over, the drink getting to you as you guzzle down the remainder of your cider, which you favor far more than the ale. Jimin clambors onto the table, a cup in hand as he starts yelling the words to the song the band is playing in the corner. 

Taehyung begins to slam his wooden cup on the table in time with the beat, yelling the words and standing up as the room joins in, stamping their feet and slamming on tables. You don’t know the words but you laugh loudly, slamming your palms against the top of the table. They sting with the force of your slap, but it feels good. 

You feel good. Happy. Drunk. A little dizzy as the table wobbles and you dive out of the way as Jimin comes tumbling down. It doesn’t stop you from taking a shower of beer from Jimin’s cup, dousing you in warm liquid as you shriek and laugh. 

Taehyung catches Jimin, of course. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and wet with beer all the same, pointing at you and laughing as you blink through the drink dripping down your face. You flick beer at them with the liquid on your hands, making them howl. 

“Gross! Jimin!”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the laughter, his arms slung tight around Taehyung’s neck as Jimin leans into him. “I slipped!”

“You owe me a new shirt!” 

Jimin nods, grinning so broadly his eyes are crescents as he stands properly and beckons you. “Come on, both of you. I’ll get you new shirts that aren’t soaked. 

Upstairs is a series of private rooms. The hall is lit with flickering sconces and the plush carpet mutes your footsteps. Jimin leads you and Taehyung, giggling, to a door. He thrusts it open and the three of you tip inside, stopping short at the scene in front of you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to mute your gasp, but Taehyung and Jimin collapse into another fit of laughter. If the two people in the bed are bothered by the interruption, they don’t show it. They are a tableau of pleasure, a woman laying back on the bed, arching upward as she lets out a moan. Her skin is slick with sweat, nipples hard as she teases them with one hand, another hand slipping between her legs to cradle the head of someone there.

The shock roots you to the spot. You can’t look away, completely hypnotized by the way the person between the woman’s legs moans, pressing their mouth further into her, the wet smack of their mouth loud over the woman’s trembling moans. 

You’ve never seen such a raw, carnal exchange. As Taehyung apologizes and grabs you and Jimin, pulling you back out into the hallway, you know you’ll never forget that momentary vision. Even as Jimin directs you to the right room to change your shirt in, you replay the scene over and over in your head, thinking of a different detail every single time: the pleasure on the woman’s face, the delicate bow of her back, the soft swells of her breasts, the wet sounds of the mouth between her legs. 

It haunts you. You swallow thickly when you’re done changing, skin still smelling like beer. Your mind wanders to Yoongi, wondering if this is what he was talking about when he spoke of desire. If he also meant physical desire, the indulgence of the erotic variety. 

The thought shames you so thoroughly you’re silent the rest of the night. You’re embarrassed by your immediate curiosity - angry that you even entertained the thought of being in that position with Yoongi, no matter how fleeting the idea was. 

Yoongi certainly did not mean he was going to teach you that - did he?

You shake the thoughts from your head and focus on reality. Of course he didn’t mean that. Taehyung was right when he spoke about the relationships between humans and dreams - it could never be something. 

-

Sweat trickles down your neck slowly. You feel every inch of it, your skin sensitive and over-warm. Your stomach clenches and your hands twist in your sheets as a hot mouth presses against your throat, teeth scraping, tongue licking. 

An inferno grows inside of you as the mouth sinks lower. You hear your heaving breaths, loud and ragged. Your heart beats in your ears, the staccato almost louder than the whimper that leaves your mouth when a wet, messy kiss is placed on your collarbone. 

It’s madness. It’s tortuous. It’s glorious, this feeling thrumming through you, making you twist your head to the side, muscles clenching and letting loose over and over again, your body completely at war with itself.

But it feels so good. 

One of your hands shoots to the silky, dark hair of the person kissing your chest. You card your fingers through soft strands, tugging a little. A deep, throaty moan escapes the lips pressed to your skin, breath hot and warm. 

Dark eyes meet yours, lips parted and swollen, Yoongi’s pupils blown and -

Panic explodes. You realize it’s Yoongi kissing you this way. Yoongi’s hands skimming up your sides, Yoongi’s mouth pressing searing kisses to your flesh, Yoongi’s moan that is falling from his lips, honey sweet. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, though dream-Yoongi just stares at you, eyes fathomless. “We could never be something.”

“Of course we can,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” 

The weight of his gaze is blazing. You feel your skin burn under the heat of it, you feel like it’s harder to breathe, you feel the sweat run down your spine, your arms, you feel like you’re overheating, it’s hot it’s too-

-

You wake up to something screeching. For a moment, daylight blinds you. You hold your hands in front of your face, shielding your eyes from the light. But the light is an inferno of heat against your hand, making you gasp and choke on thick air as you blink sleep away, trying to make sense of where you are. 

Fire. It isn’t daylight you’ve woken up to, it’s fire. 

Leaping up from bed, you throw your sheets off, scrambling to push yourself against the wall. The flames are already high, licking toward the ceiling and filling your room with thick, grey smoke as the fire eats at the old wood of your house. 

The screech comes again, the shutters on your window rattling. Heart pounding, you slide your hand along the wall, fingers trembling as you press them into the wood, trying to find the metal latch to open them. You cover the lower half of your face with your opposite arm, coughing into it. 

Your fingers slip on the latch, sweaty and shaking. You inch closer to the window, getting a solid grip on the metal and flipping it upward. The latch clacks and the windows swing open, a gust of wind entering the room. It makes matters worse, the oxygen fueling the fire into a rage as it climbs higher and jumps towards your bed. 

You look frantically around your room, realizing you can’t take anything. The writing desk in the corner is aflame, all of the sheets of paper and your hard-earned practice curling into smoke as they’re consumed, your letters from Yoongi turning to ash. 

“No!” you sob, realizing those things are lost forever.

Again, there’s a wild screech. You turn to look out the window to see a large, brown owl - Guardian, you realize - screeching, flapping its great wings, gold eyes fixated on the fire. It yells at you again, as though imploring you to move. 

You take a breath and dive out the window. For a moment as you fall toward the ground, you’re reminded that this is the second time you’re having to use it to escape danger. That thought sinks like a stone in your stomach, going down, down, down until it rests weighty in your gut.

The smack of the ground rattles you. Every part of you hurts, bones jolting as you roll until you’re flat on your back, gasping as the air leaves your lungs momentarily, knocked out of you. Scrambling up despite your limbs protesting in pain, you look up at the fire crawling over your house. 

That’s when you notice it - the noise and the yelling of voices. Inside your home, with the roaring and crackling of the fire, you couldn’t hear the crowd outside. Now, you see them in full. They carry torches and farm tools, some of them with axes and hoes, others with scythes. 

They don’t see you yet, giving you a long moment to stare open-mouthed as the pieces of the puzzle slide together. They’ve set your home on fire because of you - they’ve tried to kill you. Because they think you’re a demon and because they think you’re an evil creature. 

Heart in your throat, you scan the lines of the faces. Toward the edge, you see your parents. A group of women consoles your mother, holding her by the shoulders gently as she stares into the orange flame. Your father stands a few feet away, almost by himself, watching and watching and watching. 

They knew you were asleep. And your window had not been closed before bed - you’d been leaving it open at night so Guardian could come and go as he pleased. 

You sit there on the ground, staring in shock, for too long. Someone notices you and points, screaming something that you cannot hear over the blood rushing in your ears. Panic seizes you and you scramble to your feet, sliding a few times as the crowd runs at you.

There’s no time to see what your parents do. The image of them watching their home burn with the thought of you inside is fresh in your memory, a razor-sharp cut that flays you open as you turn and run. Run toward the woods where Nathaniel chased you on that fateful night. 

Run to the woods you almost died in. Run to the woods where Yoongi swooped in and made a promise to protect you. 

Darkness descends. You think for a moment as you enter the woods that you won’t get lucky a second time, that your luck has run out. It’s the panic that scrambles your thoughts, and the memories of Nathaniel chasing you through these woods make you stumble and fall. 

You don’t make it far. You trip over a tree root and tumble into strong arms. The smell of clove and cinnamon is overpowering as you look up at Yoongi, who pulls you into his chest. You let him, sliding your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, little lamb.” His voice is dark as the shadows that wrap around you, cool and soothing to the touch. “They cannot hurt you.” 

As Yoongi whisks you away like that fateful night, you hear the echoing voice scream behind you. Devil! Demon King! The Dark God!

-

“It’s my fault,” Yoongi murmurs, cradling your face to inspect it for the tenth time. He’s crouching in front of you, dark eyes wild as he inspects your face for any damage. You pull your jaw from his grasp - even if his touch tingles pleasantly - and look in the other direction. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” Taehyung snaps behind Yoongi, arms crossed and presence thundering. “You should have.” 

There is no fire going in the library tonight. You have a feeling Yoongi has extinguished it for obvious reasons, but you say nothing. You look over Yoongi’s dark head to where Taehyung is raging, his face pinched with anger. You give him a look and he tosses his hands in the air. 

“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m not going to lie to him. He should have known sending you back was an idiotic idea. Thinking anyone would have accepted you was an oversight.”

Yoongi grits his teeth and stands. You watch as he visibly tries to control his frustration, taking a step back from you. Tonight, he’s dressed in all black. His cloak is still on and his necklaces pool at his throat, the silver cold in the dark of the library. His hair is pulled back out of his face and you think he looks like the real Eternal, tonight. 

He turns to Taehyung. “You know why I sent her back.”

“Yes, your fucked up sense of morality and-”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” you snap. You ball your fists in your lap. You’re still dressed in night clothes and the scent of ash and sweat is heavy on your skin. You stare at your hands. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Alright.” Yoongi’s extended hand appears in front of you. You drag your eyes up to meet his. Gone is the anger and severity, replaced only with a soft, almost fond expression. “I’ll walk you.”

Putting your hand in Yoongi's, you let him pull you out of the chair. 

You could be mad at him if you tried. Perhaps it would be easy to blame Yoongi for sending you back to keep some semblance of normalcy in your life. Maybe you would feel lighter if you got angry with him for promising to protect you, but only being able to physically do so, unable to shield you from the hatred of your community. 

If you tried, perhaps you could blame him for not letting you drown in the first place. For bringing you here with the fantasy that you could exist with one foot in each world. 

You’re not mad at him, though. Unlike Taehyung, you don’t need to wonder why Yoongi wanted you to spend two weeks in the real world. The real world is yours. It’s where you belong. To want some sort of normalcy for you or hope that you’d be able to pick up your life there anew was perhaps shortsighted, but rooted in the desire to do good for you.

So you’re not angry with Yoongi, though you’re not sure you’re pleased either. 

The walk to your room is silent. Yoongi has let go of your hand but he walks close enough that your arms brush, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, and he seems content to let you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

This isn’t how you wanted to see him for the first time since your two weeks spent in your realm.

The inside of your room is warm, but there’s no fire. You almost ask if he’s doused every flame in the house, and protest that you’re not afraid, but you don’t. He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You walk toward the chaise and sit on it, looking up at where he hovers by the door. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. The emotions there are deep, but unreadable. “It was foolish of me to think they’d accept you as you were. Foolish to think that maybe the relationship with your parents might mend.” 

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I am thousands of years old. Humankind has not changed so much in their ability to fear the unknown and react violently. I do know better, but I…”  You wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t. Yoongi lets the sentence drift off into the night. Instead of finishing it, he ventures, “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” 

“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.” 

“Guardian?”

“Yeah, the owl. I assumed you sent it to watch over me.” 

Yoongi frowns. “No, that’s what Taehyung was for. I did not…”

“What?” You see the look on his face change, shifting from confused to steel calm. “What is it?” 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi mutters, turning to exit your room. “Try to get some sleep. I have a meddling owl to deal with.” 

As he moves to close the door, you lean forward. “Yoongi?” He looks up, eyes wide, expression soft. He looks like a dark star, just then. The light from the window makes him glow from within, his eyes endless pools, his power ebbing in the room, a constant energy. “Thank you.”

His mouth turns downward. “For what?”

“Saving me. Again.”

His eyes darken. “Your safety will always be paramount to me. I’ll do better.” 

“I think you’re doing the best you are able.” 

“Thank you for saying so.”

Silence hangs between the two of you. It’s heavy, filled with friction that wasn’t there before. You squirm where you sit, suddenly unable to meet the set of eyes pinned to you. You’d  forgotten what his gaze could do to you in person, and now the full force of it is dizzying. 

“Goodnight, little lamb.”

-

A gentle scratch sounds on the other side of the window. You look up from your writing desk to the windows facing the mountains. Beyond the first sprawling peaks, you see the tallest of them all, the dark mountain wreathed in shadow and lightning. 

The thunder rolls, vibrating your bones. You stare at the mountain, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. You grip the quill tight. 

Beneath the hum of thunder, you hear a scratching on the glass again. You squint, but you see nothing there. Just open air and those ominous mountains in the back, watching you as you scrawl your letters. 

Carefully, you set the quill down and get up. The floor is cold as you walk toward the window, which is strange. The floor is always warm in your room, as are the walls and most of the House of Dreams, fueled by whatever magic lives through Yoongi. 

Near the glass, you almost feel how cold the window is. You frown and lift a hand, pressing a single finger against a pane. It’s freezing to the touch and you yank your hand back, perplexed as you stare at the single fingerprint left by your warm skin. 

The fingerprint fades but the scratching sound does not. A gentle scritch scritch scritch, like a nail on the window. 

“My betrothed,” someone whispers. Your blood runs cold and you whirl around, expecting to find someone standing in your bathroom. “Won’t you open the window for me? It’s so cold outside.” 

Fear turns your stomach into acid. Your hands begin to shake as you stare into the emptiness of your room, suddenly feeling like it’s darker. Did the ceilings get taller? Is your room blurry at the edges? The scratching on the window intensifies, and with trembling lips, you turn to look over your shoulder.

There’s nothing outside, but there’s a shadowy reflection on the glass. A little taller than you. A little wider. 

“Betrothed,” Nathaniel whispers again. “Won’t you let me in to reunite?” 

For a moment, there is silence. The shadow doesn’t move. You don’t dare breathe. The shadow leaps at you and a scream tears through you -

Hands press you into something soft. You kick and scream, lashing out. Sheets tangle your legs and stick to your sweaty skin. Suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe and you thrash wildly, screaming at the top of your lungs as you claw at whatever’s holding you down.

Panic like never before seizes you. Your head smacks into something hard and it knocks you backward, suddenly dizzy as a hand comes up to your head automatically. It hurts where your fingers press into the skin, and you’re momentarily subdued by the way the room spins; the pain morphs your panic into confusion.

Breathing heavily, you blink your eyes rapidly, tears streaming down your face and vision a little blurry as you try and put the pieces together. Finally, you realize Taehyung is sitting on the floor next to your bed with his hand pressed against his forehead, in a similar fashion to your current state. Yoongi stands next to him, hands held up tentatively, as though he is about to grab you or has just let you go. 

Silence hangs in the air, your breathing ragged. Your head - which you can surmise you’ve smacked against Taehyung’s - throbs wildly. As though sensing your discomfort and sticky thoughts, Yoongi’s eyes flicker away from your gaze to your head.

“May I fix that?” he asks slowly, voice gentle. “You smacked heads quite hard. I’m concerned you may be concussed.” 

“Concussed,” you repeat back slowly. The word feels heavy on your tongue. “Right.”

Yoongi’s face colors with concern and he gestures toward you, asking permission again. It takes you another minute to put it together, but you nod dumbly, watching as he steps forward very slowly, dark eyes looking for any sign of protest or panic from you.

When you don’t bolt or swing at him, he takes another step toward you, hands reaching up toward your skull. You flinch when he reaches near and he stops, hands hovering. You can feel the heat of his skin a hair's breadth away, feel the magic skimming along him where he hesitates. 

You look up at Yoongi. His eyes are wide and full of concern, his brows pulled up. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes shift from your head to your eyes, trying to assess what to do. You smell cinnamon and clove and it calms you a little. 

This is Yoongi. Not Nathaniel. Yoongi, who saved you from the grips of that hateful man and who brought you here. Somewhere that made you happy.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You feel tired suddenly, like your adrenaline is waning and the aftereffects are bleeding you out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, pressing his hands gently to your head. You wince, the lump there giving a painful throb as he does. 

“Maybe apologize,” Taehyung mutters from his spot on the floor. “Are you going to give me magic hand, too?”

“Silence, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice is cutting. It’s a voice you’ve never heard him use with Taehyung, your eyes shooting up to his in shock. He pays you no mind, focused on his hands. 

Warmth emanates from his palms. Immediately you feel the tingle of magic. It’s soothing, making your eyes flutter as you become dizzy again. You let the warmth wash over you, accompanied by a peculiar array of senses: dark spicy smells; the feeling of velvet against your skin; the taste of cherry wine; a warm breath against your lips.

You shiver, head rolling back a little as it grows heavy and you grow drowsy suddenly, limbs weighted, mind fading. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was a dream.” Yoongi grimaces and says nothing. “Why didn’t that feel like a dream, Yoongi?”

“Sleep,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice feels very far away. “You’ll be fine, now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you.”

“An easy fix.” 

Yoongi removes his hand and you catch his wrist gently, eyes opening for a moment. “No,” you slur, speech heavy as the exhaustion pulls at you. “Thank you for saving me.”

You don’t know if you mean before, or when your neighbors came for you, or now. Maybe you mean all of it. Maybe you mean saving you from a life that you hated and bringing you here. You mean it nonetheless, though you’re unsure from where the bravery came to say it.

Dropping Yoongi’s wrist, you fall backward unceremoniously onto your bed. There is no fear of Nathaniel scratching at the glass anymore, your mind mostly empty, save for the smell of cinnamon and clove. 

Yoongi and Taehyung gather to leave your room, and as you fade, you catch the tiniest bit of conversation from Taehyung. “... need to teach her. It’s only going to get worse… spinner.” 

Sleep takes you. 

-

Being back in the House of Dreams feels like home. Though the lingering feeling of hot flame and the look on your parents’ faces as they watch their home burn still haunts you, you feel safer than you have in the last week. 

In the House of Dreams, there's no one to mutter prayers and sign wards against evil as you pass by. There’s no one glaring at you - except Taehyung, who pouts when you steal the last of the honey for your toast at breakfast. It’s just Yoongi and Taehyung, who talk more chipper than usual at breakfast. 

You eye Yoongi carefully. He sits at the head of the table, dressed in a beautiful, jade-colored silk shirt. His hair is pulled back in a bun, earrings dangling as he leads forward and plucks melon from the bowl in front of him. 

Yoongi lifts the fruit to his mouth. You pause chewing your toast, eyes focused on the way he bites into the fruit, lips plush around it, a bead of juice running down his chin. Suddenly you’re thinking about the night at The Desert Rose, a head between legs, a back that’s arched, skin sweaty-

Taehyung clears his throat from across the table and draws your attention. He’s staring at you with thinly veiled amusement, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You scowl and take a large bite of your toast before swallowing what's in your mouth, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks and neck. 

Yoongi is none the wiser, chewing happily on his fruit as he scratches Tiara under her chin. She chirps like a bird and purrs like a cat, letting out small curls of smoke everytime she puffs happily. 

Your mouth twitches in a smile as you look at your plate, happy to be back with them. 

“I want you to come to the Dream Tower with me today,” Yoongi ventures lightly. You snap your gaze up in surprise. He looks casual, as though he’s not offering you to come to the place he works, filled with magic and dreams. “I think you could help me.”

“Me?”

His mouth quirks. “Is there another human prone to trouble around here that I’m not aware of?” 

“I thought you blamed yourself?”

“So I do. But yes - you.” 

“How do you want me to help?”

Yoongi grins as he pops another piece of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You’ll see.” 

Despite your excitement and the promise of a look inside  Yoongi’s lair, even him asking for your help doesn’t earn you a break from daily reading and writing lessons. When Yoongi gestures to the assigned work on your desk, you throw him a severe look followed by a pout. As endeared as he seems, he is unwavering, patting your desk chair as he walks by. 

You’re not really mad. You fall into an easy calm as you sit down and scoot up toward the desk. The fire is low and crackling in the fireplace today and the library smells faintly of cardamom as you work. Tiara flights around the second story of the room, chittering and following Yoongi - who seems to be organizing the shelves. 

Taehyung vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day. You’re not even sure if it’s day in your world. You hope he will take you to The Desert Rose again to see Jimin and to drink cider. You love the warmth of the crowd and the loud bustle. 

The House of Dreams is quiet. 

Time slips as you work. You lose yourself in swirling letters and short reading passages, so much so that when there is a tingling presence near your shoulder, you flinch, ripping your quill across the page and splattering ink. 

Yoongi tsks and apologizes, grabbing an ink stained cloth to wipe the spilled liquid from the desk. His proximity makes your head spin, the edge of his hips grazing your shoulder as he leans over you to clean the mess you’ve made. 

Mouth drying, you drop the quill and flex your hand, coughing out an apology as you try to organize your thoughts that spill like the ink on the desk at his nearness. 

Being away from him almost made you forget how dizzying his presence could be. Yoongi regards your work in silence, but all you can focus on is the measured sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him, the curve of his mouth, the juice running down his-

“Ready?”

“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at him owlishly. He gazes down at you, cocking a brow. It’s obvious he had asked you a question. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening?” 

“What were you doing?”

“... Staring.”

“At?”

“The wall?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he questions, his voice laced with teasing. 

You scowl and shove your chair backward into his stomach, knocking him back. He lets out a loud oof and a bit of laughter as you stand and stretch, hyperaware that he’s been in a rather cheeky mood since breakfast. 

Together, you begin your walk to the tower. Tiara comes along, jumping up on Yoongi’s shoulder and curling herself around him like a scarf, her tail wrapped gently around his neck. She regards you with distaste and her tongue flickers out to taste the air, a curl of smoke escaping her nose as she huffs.

Fighting the urge to stick your tongue out at a dragon, you opt to walk in comfortable silence. 

As you do, your thoughts inevitably drift to the night before and the dream that didn’t feel like a dream. For the most part, you feel like you can tell when you’re dreaming. There’s always an opaque feeling to your dreams, something a little off. 

Now, you’re worried that perhaps you can’t tell the difference. You think that maybe you should ask Yoongi if he can help you tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, but your desire to ask is stopped as you reach the foot of stairs you’ve never climbed before. 

Yoongi looks down at you as he begins ascending, giving you a gummy smile that sends your pulse galloping after him. You curse your traitor heart, trying to remember what Taehyung said to you about the relationship between dreams and humans. It could never work. But… you’re here. In Yoongi’s home, and you don’t know how long you’re allowed to stay - if you’re ever supposed to go back again.

Both of you seem to completely ignore that you were brought back to the dream realm ahead of schedule, that maybe going back is no longer an option. 

There are doors leading to rooms as you ascend the stairs. Yoongi ignores all of them in favor of climbing up, up, and up. Your calves burn by the time you make it to the top, pausing to catch your breath and sweep your eyes across the large, circular room. 

It’s stunning. Glancing up, your mouth falls open in surprise when you see that there is no ceiling, but a mass of writhing cosmos and something like a night sky. The nebulous display casts a lavender and blue glow on the room below, the two-tone light shifting and moving. 

There are all manner of things in the room. Tables covered in papers, rich rugs with different designs, chairs and bookshelves and curiosity cabinets and glass cases full of glowing things that you cannot identify. Tiara hops off of Yoongi’s shoulder and floats on small wings toward a pile of blankets, twigs, and leaves that looks like a nest.

What demands your attention most, though, is the massive stone dais in the room, with a stone column about waist high with something that looks like a bowl carved into the top. From where you stand, you can see there’s liquid in the bowl that moves and shimmers with its own glow. Occasionally, a sparkle or wisp of color drifts from the cool surface.

Energy vibrates in the air. You can feel it like a static on your skin and taste it like a buzz on your tongue. You’re drawn to the dais, taking a step forward and halting. It feels like a hum shivers through you. You look at Yoongi, questioning. 

“The dream pool,” he answers, as though you have any idea what that is. 

He walks toward it and looks back at you, hesitating before he offers a hand. Excitement shoots through you as you take his hand and he pulls you toward it. Your hand tingles where you hold his. Even when you reach the dais and he lets go, there’s pins and needles left behind. 

“This is where I help create dreams for those who can’t do it on their own.” 

The liquid in the basin brightens as Yoongi steps up close. You watch as a watercolor of lights splashes across his face. He looks down into the bowl lovingly, a soft smile on his face, and so much adoration in his eyes that you find yourself watching him instead of the magical water in the bowl. 

“This room is full of things that help inspire dreams. I make everything myself but Taehyung likes to help - he likes to decorate and fill the room with items that inspire creativity.”

“Somehow I think dream personified doesn’t need it.”

He shoots you a grin. “You’d be surprised. Come look.”

Tentatively, you step up next to him. You’re aware of how close you stand, his sleeves brushing yours as he places a hand on the basin. It comes up to your stomach and is two feet in diameter. The water looks so much deeper than you thought. You’re unable to see the bottom, an illusion that makes you dizzy.

Like the sky above, the water shimmers and moves with its own set of stars and colors. It feels alive, like whatever power is in the dream pool recognizes you and wakes up, spinning as you look into the glittering surface. 

“I can feel and hear people dream,” Yoongi explains. “It’s like a frequency that I can tap into. I can turn it on and off at a whim. Those who don’t struggle to dream are so much quieter than those who cannot dream. I listen for those who cannot, and I come here and focus on them in my mind’s eye before creating them a dream. I pour in thoughts, feelings, scents, sounds, memories and the like into this bowl. I think it, and so it appears.” 

“How?”

“What you’d call magic. Really it’s just divine power. This is a part of me,” he says, tapping the rim of the basin. “Just like dreams are.”

“How can I help you do… this?” you ask, gesturing wildly to the water.

Yoongi’s smile is angelic. “You have the raw capability of a dreamer. Someone who dreams so powerfully and loudly that it can’t help but catch my attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your imagination and your ability to come up with things is more innate than most people. You’re an innovator, a great conjurer of stories and fantasies. It’s a rare gift in humans. Some call you Spinners - you can spin dreams up just as easily as I can, with practice, but you cannot do so without a tool like this basin.” 

“A spinner.” You remember the night before, hearing the word on Taehyung’s lips. “Are there others?” 

He nods. “Under fifty in the entire world. I believe you’ve met another one. He’s the one Taehyung visits.”

“Jimin?” 

“Mhmm. He’s like you. You have no power though, not in your world. Just raw ability.”

“So if I were to use this… pool of dreams, I could give people dreams.”

He nods, smiling. You smile back at him, his happiness infectious. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he grins broadly at you, the way his cheeks tint pink. It is strange to think that this soft man in front of you is also the same dark, powerful god who has swept in to save you, whose voice haunts your dreams and whose phantom touch lingers in all of the places that it shouldn’t. 

Licking his lips and rolling his shoulders, Yoongi takes his stance at the basin. You watch, fascinated as he sweeps a hand over the surface, not touching the water. It ripples an entire rainbow of colors, casting shadows on his face when he peers down into the water as the surface smoothes out like a mirror. 

An opaque image materializes on the surface. You watch as Yoongi concentrates. Slowly, things begin appearing. A cerulean ocean, waves rolling gently against a sandy beach. Foam clings to the sand. Starfish of every color - blue, green, red - begin to dot the beach. A gull cries above, so clear it feels like you’re there. Then you smell it - the salt, the brine. The subtle scent of driftwood. A breeze blows against your face, carrying the cool ocean mist. 

You let out a laugh as Yoongi smiles, his eyes never leaving the images unfolding in the basin. You watch as a dolphin crests a wave, earning a gasp from you. You’ve never seen a dolphin, only heard about them in passing from fishermen from the coast. They spray water high into the air as they break the waves, moving smoothly through glittering waters. 

It feels so real and warm, the dream bright and full of hope. Happiness. Excitement. You feel what Yoongi pours into the basin, your toes curling as though you can feel hot sand beneath your feet. 

“The trick,” Yoongi explains carefully, “Is imagining everything that would make it feel real. It can’t be just what you see. It has to be what you hear, what you feel, what you smell, what emotions you evoke. You have to do all of these things at once - you have to believe in them all at once. Dreams about real things are the easiest. More complex dreams can include anything you can imagine that humans believe to be fake: dragons, brownies, griffons.” 

“How do you know what to give?” 

“You feel it. Place your hand on the side.” 

Carefully, you lift your hand to the side of the dream pool. You hesitate and look up at Yoongi, eyes wide. He gives you an encouraging nod. You place your hand on the bowl, feeling the warm stone. 

A pulse of energy flows through you. You gasp, flinching a little as you feel the basin come alive under your touch. You close your eyes as sensations flood you: hopelessness, stress, exhaustion. Suddenly, Yoongi’s dream makes sense. He instills a sense of peace and serenity at the beach, of hope and wonder with the dolphins, of rest with the cool wind and warm sand. 

“Amazing,” you breathe, eyes still closed. “This is wonderful.” 

“I’ll do some more. Keep your hand where it is. You’ll feel what it is they feel. Try not to think too hard about anything while you’re connected - let me do the work.” 

Watching Yoongi work can happen with your eyes closed, you realize. You lose yourself in time and space. No longer are you in the Dream Tower. Now, Yoongi walks you through the world.

You enter through dreams, feeling sudden sadness or loss, even heartache. Every dream you encounter, there is profound suffering at the beginning. Yoongi gently sends the pain on its way, observes what each dreamer needs, and begins spinning up images. Sounds. Feelings. 

Rain falls on your face as you stand over the tops of a misty forest. It’s gentle and cool to the touch, soothing. You smell pine and damp earth, giving you energy. Your toes feel the wet grass beneath you, grounding you and making you feel more centered than you ever have.

Wheat brushes the tips of your fingers. You look out into a sea of gold, healthy crops bending with the wind. An azure sky stretches mile after mile, not a cloud in sight as the sun heats your skin. You smell fresh air and hear the grasshoppers buzz among the fresh stalks of wheat, feeling the reward of growing healthy grain. 

A dog runs after a ball. The hills are the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen, the dog dashing up the hill and barking loudly. You feel laughter bubble up your throat and unfettered joy as thick clouds float by. The dog grabs the ball and runs back, its tail wagging and coat shiny. You feel nostalgic and happy to be reunited with a friend. 

Fireflies flicker to life in a forest at night. They alight on the tree branches and your arms, casting gold luminescence on your skin. You marvel at them, spinning in a circle as you look at the dark trees. You smell the maple sap and the bark, you hear the crickets.

It’s just like the woods near your house -

Your house. 

A slice of fear goes through you. You remember the darkness of the woods as Nathaniel tried to drown you, the press of his fingers into your skull. The roaring of the flooding water and the burning of your lungs. The fireflies flicker out one by one and the darkness begins to grow. You’re suddenly terrified. Curiosity vanishes and is replaced with deep fear. 

You taste stale water in your mouth. You smell the smoke of your burning house. You feel water rushing up to your ankles and inching higher, you hear the screams of Nathaniel’s vitriol, you feel your lungs start to fill, the air stars to leave, the roots of the trees grab at your feet-

A sharp yank pulls you out of the forest. You gasp for air, falling backward off of the dais and onto the floor. Gentle hands cradle your face and you hear a deep voice calling out to you, speaking your name through the dull roar in your ears. 

Blinking, you look upward to see Yoongi inches away from your face. His eyes are round and gentle, his hands steady. Warm. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he leans over you. A strand of dark hair escapes his bun, falling across his forehead and eye. You don’t know why, but you think it looks dashing. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, searching your face. “Are you with me?” 

“Yeah,” you rasp, lungs heaving. “What happened?” 

His thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek as he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your face. “You thought of the night that I saved you. Your fear was powerful. Raw. As you started to remember things you grew more afraid and you took over the dream.”

You blink once. Twice. Remember the way that the fireflies suddenly flickered out and how the water started to rush in from nowhere. “I did that?” 

“I didn’t expect you to be such a natural. I had a feeling but… you caught me by surprise and shoved me out.”

“I can do that?”

“When I’m caught off guard, yes. You took control of creating the dream and turned it into…”

“A nightmare.”

He nods. “It’s my fault. I didn’t think you would think that forest looked the same, but I was wrong. I keep… having oversights. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Being human.” 

Silence suspends between you. You’re sprawled on the floor of the Dream Tower with Yoongi hovering over you. His knees are pressed against your hips and his shirt collar is hanging low as he leans, revealing more skin than you’ve ever seen from him. You don’t dare drop your eyes from his, staring at their dark depths.

The space between you is minimal and neither of you move. You hope he cannot hear the way your heart hammers in your chest or sense the way your body crackles like lightning, sparking at his proximity. The nightmare you made is long forgotten, replaced with his touch, his smell, his closeness. 

Yoongi holds your face delicately, like a treasured item. You cannot imagine that he means to hold you so, but the sudden want that licks through you is powerful, your desire for him to hold you like you’re something precious surprising you in its strength. 

“You make me want to get better at it.” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper. 

“At what?”

A gentle laugh. “Being human. It is unfamiliar, but I wish to know more of what it's like. To have more of the instinct.”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I’ve lived for thousands of years, and never really had the chance to try.” 

It is a similar sentiment that Taehyung had shared. The thought of Taehyung makes you smile, sitting up suddenly. Yoongi leans back on his haunches quickly, careful not to knock heads. “What?” he asks, noting your sudden excitement. 

“Has Taehyung ever taken you to the Desert Rose?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve been interested. Why?”

You grab his hand. You notice the way he seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away as you scramble to your feet. “You want to see what it’s like to be human. I know a place.” 

-

Yoongi makes a face as he sips the beer Taehyung has thrust into his hands. You and Taehyung laugh, tossing your heads back with it. Yoongi looks unimpressed but continues to drink nonetheless, his dark eyes scanning the crowded bar. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb. Eyes are immediately drawn to Yoongi wherever he goes. You think everyone must feel the divinity as he walks by them, his power a magnet for attention. Even sitting at the table with you and Taehyung, tucked near the door, people turn in their seats to get a good look at him or pause when they enter the Desert Rose. 

It doesn’t help that he looks beautiful. Air had gotten stuck in your throat when he arrived at the library at the appointed time to meet you and Taehyung to come here. His hair hangs in soft waves around his face, earrings peaking between inky strands when he moves his head. His dark shirt is long-sleeved but unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a strip of pale, smooth skin and his layered necklaces. His eyes are glittering tonight, almost like constellations are held within. 

Yoongi is the night. The black pants and black boots paired with the shirt make him look like a dark prince. Perhaps the son of the moon, even. You notice the way the stares turn from curious to hungry, Yoongi lighting a fire among those around him. 

Jealousy sours your stomach. You hate that it does, but it’s like a second instinct, some sort of possessive monster rearing its head as you avert your gaze when a beautiful man asks Yoongi if he wants to dance. Yoongi shakes his head, giving a polite smile in return before turning away and chugging more of his drink.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. 

“Thousands of years old and a room full of people scares you,” Taehyung teases, confirming your suspicions. Yoongi’s gaze is thin as a razor. “You should get out more. I’ve been telling you that.”

“Eternals don’t make a habit of walking around the human realm. Our presence disturbs the natural chemistry of the world.”

“Then why did you spend so many days in the wood-”

Yoongi kicks Taehyung under the table. He hollers in pain as Yoongi glowers, making you giggle. Though he’s no natural among the crowd, you can see that he’s trying to fit in. He watches the way people slouch in their chair and he imitates it. Drinks more of his beer, not because of the taste but because it's what people do here. 

Music thrums in the room. There is a crowd of people clapping their hands and dancing, stomping their feet along to the music. You nervously look at Yoongi throughout the night, trying to see if he’s enjoying himself, wondering what he thinks of the place. 

A couple near your table knocks over a pitcher of mead as the man presses the woman into the table in an arduous kiss. You can’t help but watch for a moment, entranced by the way he kisses her as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if her lips are the last thing he wants to remember. 

Sensing Yoongi’s gaze on you, you glance at him. He stares at you, drinking you in before his eyes drift to the couple you’d been studying. Embarrassment heats your face as you bring your cup to your lips, hiding behind the tankard as you take large gulps of cider. 

The cider takes the edge off. It makes you feel warm and loose, though you’re still a little nervous with Yoongi’s quiet countenance sitting beside you. 

“Jimin’s here!” you announce excitedly, clapping your hands together when he appears downstairs. Taehyung’s knee bumps into the bottom of the table as he jerks to turn around. “Jimin should meet Yoongi!”

“I would love to.” 

Taehyung groans. “No, please.”

“Why not?” Yoongi demands. “Should I not meet the human that brings my friend here most evenings? Should I not meet the friend of my -” Yoongi looks at you and stumbles over his words. “- my friend?” 

Friend. You’re not sure if the word fits, exactly. But you don’t know what else it is that Yoongi would call you. Friend implies something beyond acquaintances, which you are sure you are. But it fits like an ill-sized dress, hanging crooked on your frame.

“I don’t want you to scare him off!” Taehyung protests. 

Yoongi looks dubious. “Why would I do that?”

“Shut up,” you hiss as Jimin notices you. You lift your hand in an eager wave, beckoning him over. “Yoongi, be nice.”

“I am nice. Do you think I’m not nice?” 

Instead of answering him, you get up to greet Jimin warmly with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. When you step back, you see Yoongi’s burning gaze, a tick in his jaw as he stares Jimin down, tonguing his cheek. You hiss at Yoongi and snap your finger to signal for him to drop the severe expression. 

He looks at you and his features smooth out as he rises to his feet lithely, reaching an arm around you. Yoongi startles you when he places his hand on your mid-back as he leans forward to shake Jimin’s, introducing himself. 

The contact is so brief that you wonder if he had done it at all as he sits down. For a moment, you’re the only one standing, staring at Yoongi in confusion as the three men sit. They all look at you expectantly and you plop down suddenly. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, mirth evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, still recovering. It felt like a deliberate touch. Firm, but gentle. Polite, but… something. “How are you?” 

To your pleasure - and Taehyung’s evident relief - Yoongi and Jimin get along fine. If Jimin is put off by Yoongi’s peculiarity, he doesn’t show it. You wonder if he’s used to being around Taehyung, who has his own strange charm and inhuman energy vibrating around him. 

Yoongi says little, but seems comfortable. You watch him as he watches Taehyung, who has stars in his eyes every time he looks at Jimin. He leans closer to Jimin as they mutter about something conspiratorially, giggling behind their hands. Jimin brushes a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and the love that blooms in Taehyung’s expression is so evident that you wonder if Jimin knows. He has to know. And he looks like he feels the same. 

When Jimin drags Taehyung up to dance, you encourage them, shooing them off toward the growing crowd of people spinning around the room. Tables are shoved out of the way, chairs scraping to make room for the revelers. You move your chair some as your table is pushed, making the beers tilt dangerously. 

Yoongi grabs the leg of your chair and pulls it roughly toward him. Before you can say something, someone stumbles where your chair just was, toppling into the table next to you. You look at Yoongi with shock and he winks before returning to lounging in his seat, watching the crowd. 

Now that you’re sitting much closer to him, you can smell him. Still, you try to relax, watching as Jimin teaches Taehyung the steps to the dance the crowd is doing. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Yoongi says over the loud voices. “This is nice. I see why Taehyung likes it.”

“You don’t hate it?” He makes a face and you laugh. “Yoongi, you hate it.”

“It’s a bit loud, but I don’t hate it. I like the quiet. I like… solitude. But not always. This is a good break.” 

“So you never just… stroll among the people sometimes?”

“Never had a reason to.”

“But how can you make dreams if you don’t know people?”

“Dreams are inherent to me. They are an instinct. They aren’t born from people. They’re born from something rawer than that. People just happen to dream.” 

You hum, not sure that you follow. Silence lulls between you as the song changes. “This place is so different from anywhere I’ve been,” you tell him. “My mother and father would have hated a place like this where people want so freely and people are so… provocative.”

“Life is provocative. So is nature, and magic. And dreams.” 

“Is that why you’re a god of desire, too?” He nods once, his eyes on you. “Can you… sense what people innately desire? All the time?” 

You don’t ask the real question, which is: Can you tell what I desire when I’m with you? Still, Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Snippets. LIke I said, I try not to pry. I don’t think that anyone here needs to be inspired by me to delve into what they want here, that’s for sure.” His eyes darken. “Though perhaps there is one.”

It is not your imagination when he says it. You know that he means you. This you are sure of. You stare at Yoongi, the rest of the room fading away. He stares right back at you, as though willing you to agree, or to deny his claim. Your heart speeds up and you feel the sweat on your neck, the slick on your palms. 

“You said you’d help me indulge.” Your voice shakes when you say it. “How… do I do that?”

Yoongi’s mouth kicks up at the side. He leans forward and offers you a hand. When you just stare at it, he laughs. “Dance with me.”

“Dancing? That is indulging?” 

“You might be surprised.” 

Tension goes taught between you. You feel it sizzling in the air as you stare one another down. Yoongi’s hand remains outstretched, beckoning. Slowly, you put the cup of cider down and slide your hand into his. You’ve done this so many times, letting him lead you somewhere or help you up. 

When Yoongi grips your hand and pulls you to your feet, it feels different than all the times before. The soft, gentle Eternal of dreams has melted away and left something sharper. Darker. Edgier. Your heart flutters butterfly-fast as he leads you to where there are people spinning in tight circles on the floor. 

Yoongi yanks you toward him, pulling you into his chest. One hand loops over his shoulder, your palm cradling the back of his neck, while the other grips his. His hand goes snuggling around your waist, pulling you firmly to him as he ducks his head toward your ear, voice deep and soft as he whispers, “Follow me.” 

You would follow him anywhere, you think. Anywhere at all. 

Dancing is not something you ever recall doing. It wasn’t necessary where you grew up. Most of your festivals in town were a reserved affair and you’d never been to any parties or celebrations. Most weddings were stiff and formal, and not for merriment as much as respect. 

Now, your world turns into a kaleidoscope of color and laughter. Yoongi spins you around the room, his feet smooth and fast. You stumble to keep up at first, but Yoongi is a confident lead, his steps instructing yours, his hands pulling and guiding you as you go. 

Laughter rushes out of you. You cannot help the glee that glitters in your veins. Yoongi’s laughter is like spilled moonlight. You look up at him with a grin, seeing his gummy smile as he dips you suddenly, making you squeal. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You know he won’t drop you but the exhilaration is in your veins as he lifts you back up, crushing you to him. 

Your arms and legs burn with effort as you continue. The song changes and Yoongi lets go and spins you. You go crashing into Taehyung’s arms. He’s a far worse dancer than Yoongi, and the two of you are a mess of tripped feet, trilling laughter and elbows into ribs. He pushes you back to Yoongi’s waiting arms. 

It terrifies you how much it feels like home, like a key sliding into a lock. Your arms go around him as his hands squeeze your waist. You come alive where you touch, looking up at him. He watches you, the shadow of his lashes framing delicate eyes. His mouth is red and soft. 

Yoongi’s eyes dart down to your mouth. Your breath catches and he moves a little closer, pressing his head to yours, noses brushing. The entire world vanishes and it’s just Yoongi, his lips so close you can almost taste them, his fingers digging into your hips. 

Your eyes flutter shut just as someone crashes into you. You scream as you’re knocked hard into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling as he catches you from falling over completely. The crowd goes wild with laughter as a man is sprawled on the ground, laughing and drunk, having lost his balance. 

A breathless laugh escapes you as you and Yoongi straighten, separating a little. The moment between you is shattered, clattering away like pieces of broken glass as you catch your breath and gather your wits. You look around, searching for Taehyung only to see him alone at your table, eyes heavy and gaze lingering across the room. You turn to see Jimin leaning on the bar, smiling at something a woman is whispering in his ear. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, you see him shove away from the table and storm out the door. Yoongi notices this too, but he’s slow on the uptake, his hand still on your hip. You shake off his hold on you and go after Taehyung, shouting his name.

Taehyung is just outside the Desert Rose, head tilted down and shoulders pulled up tight around his ears. When you touch the small of his back, he flinches, gazing at you with tear-stained eyes and a look so crestfallen you feel your heart crack.

He sniffs. “This is why,” he whispers. “This is why I told you we can never be. Humans and dreams - we aren’t. We don’t match.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say. You open your arms and he leans into you, folding in half as he sobs, breaking down into your shoulder. You hush him gently, holding him tight and squeezing him, trying to pour your love into him. 

Over Taehyung’s shoulder, your gaze settles on Yoongi. He watches the two of you in silence, face impassive. And your heart breaks a little more, realizing the truth of Taehyung’s words. 

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

[sunlightmurdock]

When All Is Said and Done | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

In which Maverick’s best man and his daughter come together to plan a wedding, then celebrate the success of their endeavours.

Warnings: smut, porn w very little plot, unprotected pinv (use protection pls), oral (f receiving), choking, drinking

“I do.”

“I do.”

“And do you, Penny Benjamin —“

“I do.” Your mother beams, smiling at the love of her life from across the alter. She has been waiting for this day for a long time. Pete was her first real love. They had met when she was wild and he was even wilder. They’ve been on and off for decades, but this time, they’re making it official.

You were a result of one of their on times, followed by some pretty bumpy offs through your childhood. They did their best to keep you out of the ugliest parts of it, you know that they’ve loved each other for as long as you’ve been alive.

But, not always like this. There was Stu, your Mom’s second husband, Amelia’s dad. He was there through most of your adolescence. Not to mention the countless women that Mav has introduced you to.

Your parents reconciled about a year ago. It’s been a whirlwind, you’ve never seen them this in love. So, when they announced two months ago that they were engaged and wanted to be married as soon as possible — you had known that the pressure was on.

This was your seven year old dreams coming true, it had to be perfect. Unsurprisingly, you were chosen to be maid of honour. More surprisingly, Maverick chose Bradley Bradshaw to be his best man.

As kids, you saw Bradley frequently. Whenever you would stay with your dad, he would drop you over at Aunt Carole’s house often. Bradley was a couple of years older, he wasn’t ever really that interested in playing with you but Carole adored having you around.

As teenagers, you barely saw him at all. He was always at sports, or in his room with friends, or out of the house. Then he and Maverick had had that huge argument. You hadn’t seen him since he was maybe seventeen.

Then he had come strolling back in to your life.

Taller than he was back then. Stronger. Broader. Tanned, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a neatly groomed moustache on his face, calling himself Rooster now. At first, you had thought he had shown up in costume.

You were quickly corrected by him. That had been an embarrassing mistake to make.

Your parents lasted through a week of wedding planning before they were butting heads and arguing about different shades of green for the chair covers. Sitting at the kitchen counter, looking between the two of them disapprovingly, you had known that you would have to intervene.

“Just relax, Rooster and I will take care of everything.” You had breathed, stepping between the two of them.

“We will?” Bradley frowned.

“Yes, we will.” You had insisted.

The two months that had followed had been hard. Planning the wedding that your parents had wanted in two months had proven to be damn near impossible. You had to take time off work, stay up late. The majority of your early summer had been spent arguing with venues and coordinators to make sure that the wedding went off without a hitch.

Bradley had been busy with work. Unable to take time off like you could. Too busy to help with decorations and suit rentals, even though that was what you had allocated. Somehow not too busy to plan your father’s bachelor party.

Things had changed at the end of May. You had cornered him and told him that things had needed to change. He insists that you had threatened his life — you aren’t so convinced that you did, but either way, it had worked.

Now, in the middle of June, your parents lean together and kiss softly. The church, filled with your closest family and friends, cheers for them. You clap, grinning at your parents.

“I want to start off by thanking everyone who helped out, and worked hard to make today special for my beautiful wife and I,” Mav begins, smiling softly. He turns his head and looks at you and Bradley individually, “Especially our incredible daughter, and my best man over here, Bradley.”

You lean back in your seat and extend your champagne glass behind Penny and Maverick’s chairs, towards Bradley. He smiles softly and takes his, leaning around them to clink his glass against yours.

“We did it.” You mouth across to him.

“Told you we would.” He whispers back. You grin, bringing your glass back and taking a sip from it.

You sit there politely, listening to your father’s speech, feeling Bradley’s eyes on you every couple of minutes.

After Maverick has thanked everyone for their part in the wedding, the band takes over for a while to give your parents some time to talk to each other and to their guests. You get up to stretch your legs, Bradley heads over to his friends to greet them for the first time since the reception.

You walk out onto the patio, the buzz from the champagne and the breeze from the dropping temperature hits you all at once, but it’s a pleasant feeling. The stress from the past few months fades as you walk down the steps and into the garden. The decorations from today’s ceremony are still up. You look around at them, proud of yourself for the work you did.

You walk up to the front, taking a seat on the bench closest to the arch. You sit down and take a drink from your champagne glass.

The peace and quiet is nice, you sit with your sense of accomplishment and mild buzz, listening to the wind in the trees.

“Hiding already, Mitchell? — Mav’s not even rapping yet.” Bradley teases, calling back to the Eminem incident at your father’s fifty-eighth birthday party, as he follows along the same path towards you. You cringe at the memory, unable to stop yourself from letting out a soft groan.

“Oh, don’t,” You complain, letting out a dry laugh. You shake your head as he steps around and sits down next to you. “He was so wasted that night.”

“So were you, if I remember right.” Bradley comments, taking a sip of his beer, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s handsome in his tux, especially under the twinkling lights strung above the garden. He turns his head to you, his expression a mixture of amusement and challenge.

“I was not!” You insist, shaking your head again as you sip at your champagne.

“So you dance like that when you’re sober, good to know.” Bradley comments, lips quirked up into a soft smirk. You scoff and drive your elbow into his ribs playfully. He laughs and shifts closer to you. He extends his arm along the back of the bench.

It’s not technically draped around your shoulder, but it’s also not not around your shoulder.

You turn your head to look at him. He bumps his beer bottle against your champagne flute gently, “You did good. Today was incredible.”

“We did.” You correct him, fully aware of how close you’re sitting. You’ve never noticed that he’s got soft brown freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose before today.

He shakes his head, lifting his hand from the back of the bench. His thumb strokes along your bare bicep and makes you shiver, “This was all you and we both know it. Your parents are so lucky to have you.”

“I can’t believe those words just left your mouth,” You scoff playfully, leaning your head back to look at the twinkling lights above both of you. There’s a soft breeze tonight, you can still hear the music playing inside. Bradley’s warmth radiates onto you. This is nice. “Aren’t you the one who called me a control freak a couple of months ago?”

Rooster smiles, caught.

“I didn’t think your Dad was going to snitch on me, in my defence.” Bradley replies, stroking his fingertips along your arm. “I don’t think that anymore, anyway. You’re just bossy.”

“I am not—“

He raises an eyebrow at you, challenging you to go ahead. You bite your cheeks to keep from smiling, staring him down. Rooster smirks. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

Oh. This is happening. He leans in, closing his eyes, tilting his head, pressing his lips to yours. You lean slightly into him, lips tenderly moving against his.

Rooster leans closer, resting his hand against your knee, trailing it along your skin. It slides along your thigh, trailing the slit in the side of your bridesmaid dress.

“Hey - woah, oh no - oh, ew!”

You pull apart sharply to look at your younger sister. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she looks between the two of you.

“Were you two…?”

“No!” You answer sharply, Rooster looks between her and you. “What do you want?”

“Can I use your ID to get a drink?”

“No.” You frown at her. She groans, rolling her eyes and walking away from the two of you. Bradley takes his hand away from your thigh and shifts back slightly.

He covers his mouth with his hand, brushing it over his jaw and sighing, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pull him forwards again, pressing your lips to his. He nips at your bottom lip, the taste of champagne on your tongue as it slides against his.

He slides his hand up your back, curling it around the nape of your neck and pulling you closer against him. Your chest presses into his as he caresses his tongue into your mouth.

You pull apart abruptly again at the sound of footsteps behind you.

“Not here.” Rooster mumbles. You slip your hand into his, leaving your drinks on the bench as you pull him up and guide him back into the building. Trailing your fingers along the wall, you push open a random door on the right of the hallway.

It’s a small room, someone’s office maybe. A desk in the middle that’ll work just fine for what’s about to happen. You round on him as the door closes behind him. Rooster’s hands find your waist as yours drape around his shoulders.

His hands wrap around your waist and trail down to cup your ass, causing you to let out a small gasp. Rooster presses himself into you, walking you back until you bump into the desk. You tense up as he grabs your hips and drops you onto the desk.

This has been a long time coming. All those bickering arguments, late-night phone calls, all those hours you’ve spent planning today. Deep down, you had known this was coming.

Rooster lips his tongue into your mouth once again, grabbing your knees and parting them, moving to stand between your thighs. His fingertips trail up along your legs, as far as the slit in your dress will allow him. Not far enough.

This time, not skipping a beat, he hikes up your dress. Thick thumb swiping over your cleft, eliciting a soft purr from your lips. The honeyed sound has him growling softly in anticipation, pressing his mouth hard against yours, picking up his movements.

You reach forwards, tugging at his bow tie, loosening it in one movement. Your hands fumble with the buttons on his white shirt. Rooster presses himself against you, nipping at your bottom lip as you tug his shirt out from under his belt to finish unbuttoning it.

Rushing to get him out of it, he works with you, shrugging his suit jacket and his unbuttoned shirt at once. He tugs hard at your knees, almost making you slip off of the desk as you’re pulled to the edge of it.

“Holy shit.”

Leaving him in just his trousers, you take a moment to marvel at his bare chest — god, he’s so much hotter now than he was when you were kids. He pushes your dress up further around your waist, grabbing the back of your knee with one hand, cupping your throat with the other.

“So wha— god,” Rooster breathes out as you pepper a dozen kisses over the length of his neck. “What are you into?”

Your brows furrow slightly, grabbing onto his bicep for leverage as he pushes the thin strap of your dress of your shoulder, attaching his mouth to the skin.

It’s hard to think when he’s nipping at your skin like this. Your head lulls back, a soft moan slipping your lips.

“Uh — I — I’m pretty into reading, and s-stuff— um —“

“In bed, Mitchell — I meant what are you into in bed?” Bradley interrupts, pulling back and giving a soft shake of his head. You stare at him, letting a moment of silence fall between the two of you.

“Choke me.”

“Huh?”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him in again, humming softly as he relaxes into you. The kisses grow more passionate, there’s a certainty between the two of you about what’s going to happen here.

Braldey’s hand found its home back between your legs, pulling your panties to the side this time. You’re dripping for him already and he has barely touched you.

Circling his digits around your sensitive clit, you mewl quietly. Dipping into your wetness, he pushed the tip of his finger into you and lifts his head to look you in the eye. Your head just about spins, met with soft honey coloured eyes and parted lips.

Pushing deeper until his entire middle finger is in you, Bradley groans out. He works the digit into you, stretching you open more and more. Dripping onto his palm, you gasp for breath. Rooster eagerly presses another finger into you, making you whimper out softly.

He picks up the pace, kissing your lips as his fingers massage that spot inside of you that makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open. His other hand brushes the other strap of your dress off of your shoulder.

His attention quickly focuses on your exposed breasts, nipples peaked from the cold air. He groans softly.

You lean back on your palms, lips parted as his mouth works its way along your bare chest. Open-mouthed kisses, leaving a warm trail along your collarbones and down your chest.

You gasp as he curls his fingers especially deep into you.

“Fuck, Rooster — like that.”

He palms at your breast softly with his free hand, rolling your nipple between his index finger and thumb. It hardens further under his touch as his mouth attaches to the other, flicking his tongue softly over the sensitive bud.

“Oh my god…” You lean your head back, sliding your fingers into his neatly styled hair as the knot in your stomach grows tighter.

Rooster lowers himself to his knees, parting your knees further. You gasp as his teeth graze the inside of your thigh, fingers curling into his hair. He sucks softly at the tender skin, his mustache scratches softly, in the best way.

He pulls back for just a moment and hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, you lift your hips, he slides them down your legs, trailing their path with his mouth. He kisses your ankle tenderly and guides it over his shoulder.

Bradley shoves them into his pocket and nestles himself between your legs, glancing up at you. You look so beautiful, staring down at him so eager, but he doesn’t have time for heartfelt proclamations. He wastes no time in tasting you. Licking a stripe over your folds, he groans softly against your core.

You jolt at the feeling, watching him between your legs. He continues lapping at your core, thick fingers curling into you. You spread your legs wider for him — he grabs your thighs and guides them around his shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer.

He takes one hand away from your legs and palms himself over his dress pants, uncomfortably hard against the already tight fabric.

The wet muscle of his tongue dips inside of you, his nose brushing against your clit as he drags it slowly up again to the swollen nub. He traces the tip of his tongue around it before sucking hard then soft and letting go.

Your fingers curl tighter into his hair, panting out. Bradley groans against you, repeating the movements again and again until you’re crying out.

He grins against your skin at the shattered cry that slips your lips, sucking harder. You tug hard at his hair as his teeth gently scrape over it, your thighs squeezing around his ears. Rooster sucks at it softly again, fingertips digging into your thighs.

“What’s my name, baby?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Rooster, fuck!”

Bob and Fanboy stop walking at once, turning their heads to look at the door and then to look at each other. Mickey grins as he slips the joint between his lips, both of them shake their heads as they walk by the door.

They both laugh as they continue outside.

Your toes curl, heels pressing into his shoulders as he draws your orgasm from you. You cum, shuddering against his mouth. Rooster doesn’t ease up, lapping up your release, giving hums of approval as he guides you through the aftershocks.

He pulls away, raking his nails along your thighs. His eyes seem darker as he looks up at you this time. You push yourself upright, breathless. Rooster’s hands go for his belt as he stands up, tugging at the leather.

The sound you make is almost a growl. You pull him closer to you by his belt. He sighs contentedly as you pull it open, lips pressing hungrily to his throat. You leave his belt open, yanking down his zipper, pushing his boxers down just enough to expose him.

He rests one of his palms down on the desk, the other wrapping around the base of his cock. You both gasp softly as he pushes into you. You look up, met with pretty brown eyes. You whine softly.

“Oh fuck,” Rooster shivers, cupping your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss. You groan softly against him as he presses forwards until he’s buried into you completely. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

He rocks back, pulling almost all of the way out. Rooster rests his forehead to yours, lips parted as he looks down between the two of you, watching as he slides slowly back in. You whine through bitten lips, brows knitted in focus as your body stretches to accommodate him.

Forehead to forehead, your eyes meet for just a second. He curls his fingers tighter by just a fraction, guiding you in by your throat until his mouth is on yours. He nips softly at your bottom lip and uses the surprised gasp that follows as an opportunity to slip his tongue in against yours.

You moan softly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply.

“Ah - oh my god.” You whimper out, breathless, your eyes focused solely on him. He squeezes slightly tighter, setting a pace that has your head lulling back in pleasure.

“Look so fucking pretty, Mitchell.” He murmurs affectionately, lips brushing your earlobe as he fucks into you, constricting the airflow just enough to dizzy you without it hurting.

You smile at him, taking your bottom lip just slightly between your teeth. Rooster’s lips part. He takes in the sight of you, grinning devilishly at him, his hand around your throat as he fucks you.

“So pretty.” He breathes out unsteadily. He releases his hold, wetting his lips with his tongue as you gasp for air.

“Bradley - R-Rooster - fuck, fuck - that’s so good.” You whimper, grabbing onto his bicep for leverage, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He leans forwards and presses his lips to your hair, snapping his hips forward and making you cry out.

He goes right to setting a brutal pace, ruthless as he fucks into you. Just how you need it. You’re gasping, moaning out for him as he grunts in your ear.

“You gonna cum again for me, honey?” Bradley teases, punctuating his question with a hard snap of his hips that draws a pleasured shriek from your lips. You nod eagerly as his hand wraps around your throat once more.

A strangled moan slips your lips, your heel pressing into the small of his back. Rooster growls softly into the curve of your jaw, tugging at your hair as he pounds into you.

Your nail drag sharply down his back, leaving scorching red marks in their wake. Rooster’s hips stutter slightly at the feeling, he squeezes his fingers tight at the sides of your throat as he rams himself into you, hard. You cry out into his shoulder as your vision goes blisteringly white.

“Bradshaw? You in there?” Three heavy knocks rattle the door. Rooster takes his hand from your throat and clamps it over your mouth. Jake bangs at the door again.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.” Bradley whispers. You squeak against his hand, the sensitivity making you tremble through the aftershocks of your second orgasm. You nod hurriedly, moaning against his palm.

You're vaguely aware of Rooster’s praises raining over you, telling you how good you feel — how good you’re doing for him, as you tremble under him. His hips stutter to a stop as he releases inside of you, pressing himself as close as he could possibly be.

He rocks his hips a little, riding out his high, groaning against the curve of your jaw.

“Bradshaw!” Jake pounds at the door again. “Maverick’s looking for you!”

Rooster blinks, looking down between your bodies and then back up at your face. You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“One second!” Bradley answers, curling his fingers around your hips. He rests his forehead against his shoulder, both of you whining just slightly as he pulls back and slips out of you.

“Oh my god.” You breathe, legs trembling. You push yourself up from the desk, hurrying the straps to your dress back up your shoulders to cover your chest.

“Rooster — you have a speech to give, man, you have to get out there!” Jake insists, knowing that Maverick is happy and smiling now but that things are likely to take a turn if the best man doesn’t show up soon.

“I’m-“ Rooster tucks himself back into his pants and rushes to buckle his belt. “I’m coming! — Just hold on.”

He looks to you and finds you smirking as you fix your hair. He’s not coming now, but he was a couple of seconds ago. Rooster grabs his shirt and jacket, slipping them on in one motion and fumbling to button up his shirt.

You turn around and look into the reflection of the candle holder, fixing up any smudged make up. You smooth your hair out once more, making sure there aren’t any indents from Rooster’s fingertips.

Rooster finishes buttoning his shirt and smooths out his hair, knowing it must be fucked up from how you were grabbing it when he was between your legs.

“I gotta go, I’ll - Just let me do this, I’ll come back-“

“Rooster, wait!”

He turns quickly.

“Rooster!” Jake calls again on the outside of the door, smacking his fist into it. Rooster’s eyes widen as you dip your hand into his pocket. You pull your underwear from it and hold it up.

“Oh, shit - sorry, honey. You look beautiful. I gotta go.” He leans in quickly and kisses your cheek. You step back, making sure Jake won’t spot you when the door opens.

Bradley opens it a fraction, slipping through the gap and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jake steps back and furrows his eyebrows, “Mav’s going to fucking kill you.”

“What? — Why? — I didn’t do anything.” Rooster rushes out, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide. All in all, looking fairly disheveled. He tucks his shirt into his pants.

“Because speeches started fifteen minutes ago and you were supposed to start. You’re going last now, but there’s only so long that Penny’s dad can stall for you, man — where’s your tie?” Jake frowns. Rooster looks down and realises his bow tie is still on the floor of the room he just exited. He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter. I have to pee, two seconds and I’ll be right there.”

“What? — I thought that was the bathroom, what were you? Oh. Oh, Bradshaw, you were not fucking one of the bridesmaids!”

“Shh!” Bradley hisses. He glares at Jake. “Go, stall for me, two seconds.”

Bradley rushes into the men’s room to clean up. You have the same plan. Jake’s handing Bradley the microphone when you step back into the room and cross to take your seat at the head table. Bradley’s on Mav’s left, you’re on Penny’s right.

“Where did you disappear to, honey?” Penny whispers as Bradley cracks jokes about Maverick’s wild, younger days.

You swallow, adjusting your dress slightly, lifting your head to look at Bradley. “Had to get some air.”

“Hm,” Penny hums, nodding her head softly. She smiles and pats your knee, “Amelia already told on you, sweetheart. Is that your lipstick on Bradley’s collar?”

You pick up the glass of champagne in front of you and take a long gulp.

…

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun smut

[wing-ed-thing]

Senju Family x Reader Platonic Relationship Headcanons

Tags: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 While Butsuma is around, you better be on your best behavior. He's extremely tough on his sons because he believes that that is what is best for their survival, so he won't allow anyone around them who he thinks will drag them down.

𓆃 No matter who you are, if you have any association with his children, he expects you to be tough. Bonus points if you excel in combat so profoundly that he starts comparing you to his boys.

𓆃 Given who he is as a man as well as the children he's already lost, Butsuma is willing to view you— a good friend of his sons— as one of his own... given you fit his standards.

𓆃 While much tougher on his own children, Butsuma will always treat you with respect and regard your accomplishments. He'll often forget that you aren't one of his children.

𓆃 And as adults, your bond with Hashirama and Tobirama will continue to be as strong as ever. Or even if you happened to have met in your adulthood, your relationship with the two would be absolutely seemless.

𓆃 Knowing Hashirama before the conclusion of the Senju-Uchiha conflict, following him in his dream is almost a given. Even if your passion for starting the village isn't as strong as his, you and Tobirama are following and supporting him every second of the way.

𓆃 Whether it's going on drink runs, making copies and playing secretary, or spending late nights with Hashirama preparing him for diplomatic meetings, you've already volunteered yourself.

𓆃 And your homes are basically each other's. You have the keys to prove it.

𓆃 Hashirama will show up to yours unannounced for dinner (which you'll have to improvise). You'll have to rifle through Hashirama's closet because he's spilled wine all over his robes. Tobirama picks up the things you forgot on the counter in your kitchen because you were so busy worrying about this huge gathering of diplomats.

𓆃 You get to know each of their students well, treating them as your own. You get them gifts on major holidays and never forget a birthday or graduation.

𓆃 Tsunade absolutely adores you, and the three of you take turns spoiling her and taking her out on adventures around the village.

𓆃 There's a period of a couple months where you're all engaged in a harmless prank war and you're not sure who started it. You think it lasted for as long as it did because all of your students and respective grandchildren thought it was so fun.

𓆃 You oftentimes have impromptu family nights where, a few days before, you'll arrange to meet up at someone's house. People will bring food and activities for the children. Students are, of course, welcome.

𓆃 Hashirama has at least one goofy gag that he pulls out at the dinner table to make the little kids laugh.

𓆃 There's little structure to the night, just spending time with each other.

𓆃 Tobirama loves hikes and will take everyone on nature walks. He's oddly passionate about different trees and features of the landscape. He pouts when he thinks no one is listening to him.

𓆃 Hashirama's whole dream was giving people a place to be a community, while not even noticing he's made his own microcosm.

𓆃 You all have waited so long for peace, that now you finally have it to share with family— blood or not.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Childhood Best Friends with Tobirama and Hashirama Headcanons

#hashirama senju x reader #hashirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #tobirama x reader #hashirama #hashirama senju #tobirama #tobirama senju #x reader #naruto x reader #x you #naruto x y/n #reader insert #naruto #naruto x you #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Javier Peña and his partner can't stand each other, but to take down an old enemy they are forced to work together and pretend to be a complacent married couple.

Series warnings: language , violence, alcohol use, slow burn, angst, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), trauma and SA referencing.

Masterlist

Before to start… so here we are… I am very excited and nervous to write about this story 'cause I really care 'bout it. 🙏 I'm not an expert on these spy agencies, so if I got something wrong, don't get angry or offended. 😬 And maybe some aspects of Peña's character may change, if it's necessary. I don’t know how many chapters the story will have. If you want to follow my new fanfiction, I appreciate it 🙏

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

If there's one thing you really can't stand it's Monday mornings, not finding coffee on your desk in the office, not being able to catch a criminal after a long investigation that has taken you so much time and energy, you are in the office and you persistently look at the documentation related to Alvaro Monteiro, also known as 'El Diablo,' a drug dealer known in South America but also in half of the European countries, now also infamous for exploitation of prostitution and organ trafficking in countries like Mexico and Argentina.

You shake your head trying to bring order to the few testimonies about his movements, sightings, and the last deals he conducted; those who could really talk are afraid for their relatives and their own lives; those who talk more are found with a bullet in their head somewhere.

You hold your head in your hands watching the faces of all the young women, men and even children caught up in this so far endless trail of blood and death. You don't know when you will arrest Monteiro, but you know one thing for sure, you will not let up until you catch him. They wouldn't call you Bulldog like that.

Everyone whispers this nickname of yours because of your determination at work and then because, if you start pursuing a case, it becomes your priority even over your own life. None of your colleagues, however, has ever dared to openly call you that. With the exception of your insufferable colleague Javier Peña.

Speaking of him, he's a huge pain in the ass, a huge Don Juan who is convinced he can have everyone at his feet with that grin and his dark eyes always ready to look seductively at anyone who comes his way. He even hit on you once, but you told him everything you thought about him, about his absurd ways of getting information about investigations, about how he slept with half the office and all of them, even though they had been dumped by him, kept kissing the ground he walked on!

That's crazy.

By the way, here he comes into the office, agent Peña, hair perfectly coiffed, glasses on his nose, winking smile, and everyone looking at him dreamily, you roll your eyes and shake your head to go back to looking at the Monteiro dossier.

"Good mornin'." he greets you in a detached tone.

By the way, you and Peña can't stand each other. Not because you stood him up, or maybe even because of that, but because both of you were engaged on the Monteiro case a couple of years earlier. You each had your own method of investigation, as you do now for that matter, and you ended up pointing a gun at each other losing your target and then blaming each other in front of your boss. Your boss removed you from the case.

From that moment on, Peña treats you frostily, if he has to spite you he does, if he has to tell you a nasty thing he tells you, he doesn't think twice about it, if he has any news he keeps it to himself and reports it to your superior making you look like an amateur always bent over papers and little in action.

"Good mornin', Agent Peña," you greet him in the same tone.

Within a year of being removed from the case, however, Peña continued to keep his female informants - mostly prostitutes - on the alert about all that might be his movements, you for your part have always kept an eye on money movements and possible strange transfers from American to Mexican banks and vice versa, all of which led your boss to reassign both of you the case, making you promise to cooperate and share any information that either of you might obtain. Collaboration that has not happened so far, however, not entirely, at least.

Peña lays his palms on the documentation you were sifting through forcing you to look up at him, looking at you insistently with his huge dark eyes with the expression of someone who is studying someone intensely.

You sigh, "What do you want?" you ask him.

"Just to inform you," he replies.

You lean your back against the chair and raise your eyebrows as if to invite him to continue, you cross your arms "That would be news!" you exclaim in an icy tone "I'm all ears."

"Monteiro has been spotted in Paloma Beach, France."

You widen your eyes, spreading your lips wide, he smiles in that annoyed grin.

"Peña. Speak up. Now." you tell him, looking him straight in the eye.

He leans against the desk "I'm glad to have your attention," he says crossing his arms in a satisfied expression of someone who got to a race first "I thought you were too focused on staring at the paper…"

"Peña, you have my attention and if you don't talk right now I'm going to kick your ass and throw you out of my office!" you threaten him in an icy tone "So?"

He sighs, "Always in a good mood, I see!"

"Always a stupid and misplaced sarcasm," you retort using the same tone.

"Whatever," he says showing a green folder in his hands "Monteiro has been spotted in France, in Saint - Jean - Cap - Ferrat." he's telling you, because you're too eager to read news about the narco-trafficker, you get up from your chair and make to pull the clipboard away from him, but he's faster than you and pulls it away from your reach. You almost end up against him, you're within an arm's length of his angular nose and those dark pools, you both immediately retreat. He clears his throat and then resumes, "I was saying, Monteiro has been spotted there and according to this informant of mine he will be there for the next few summer months."

"When would the informant have told you these things?" you ask him raising an eyebrow.

"Does it matter?" he asks you raising an eyebrow as well.

No, not really considering how she must have gotten this information. You don't want to hear him say it, you are bothered by this display of how able he's to get his informants to talk and get comfortable and then get them to confess what he wants to know. No, thank you.

"Have you told Diáz yet?" you ask him, furrowing your brow.

"Claro." he answers you raising his eyebrows with a satisfied air.

"Cabrón." you answer him curtly.

You don't speak Spanish, but obviously living in those parts of South America you had to learn and especially you had to learn how to respond in tone to Peña's exclamations who likes to retort punctually in Spanish. In the early days he was doing it on purpose to retort in Spanish having realized you didn't understand Spanish and who knows how many he must have said to you and you didn't even understand them, but from the moment you started studying Spanish, you started responding in tone leaving him surprised in the early days, then it became a habit of yours to retort on each other with Spanish barbs.

"Muy bien, shall we go?" he asks you.

"Where?"

"Diáz of course! Did you have your coffee this morning, agent?" he asks as he gets up from your desk and adjusts his dark pants.

"And did you ever go to sleep?" you ask him making to head for the door. He does before you, however, and opens the door for you, then makes a hand gesture at which you roll your eyes and snort.

"Let it not be said that agent Peña is not a gentleman!" he exclaims.

"You're supposed to be a gentleman with all the poor girls you screw and then quit!" you exclaim. You just can't stand it, you can't help it.

Diáz is your boss, a man of about fifty, sturdy build, graying hair, big eyes with thick lenses on his nose, he wants everything to work perfectly in his department.

"Sir." you say as you enter his office.

"Sir." Peña greets as he enters the office closing the door "You wanted to see us?"

"Yes, thank you for coming, agents. I know you are both involved in the Monteiro case and as we know Monteiro has now become a world class criminal. I am in contact with departments in other countries and it's been confirmed that he is in France." he pauses "Do you speak French?"

You wrinkle your forehead, "Sir?"

"I need two agents - you -" he says pointing at both of you "to go there in the field in Saint - Jean - Cap - Ferrat to investigate undercover."

"Sir, with all due respect," you continue "but this is perhaps a CIA job-- we-- we are just DEA agents." you state externalizing your concern "We don't have the proper training to…"

"Agent," Diáz resumes, "I understand your fear, but the Monteiro case has become important to all of us. Monteiro could be in France today, the day after he disappeared from circulation again, it's too important for us to catch him."

You watch Peña in the hope of getting his support, but you see him thoughtfully "They will find out right away that we are agents, they might-" you are about to say they might kill you right away or torture you to figure out what you know and then kill you, but it's Peña who interrupts your stream of thought "When are we going to get him?"

Diáz smiles, "Have a seat, now I will explain everything."

Diáz explains to you in hand that you will not be completely alone, there will be CIA men who will be ready to intervene if you deem it necessary. He also explains to you that you will change your names, you will be Blanca Torres and Peña will be Diego Torres, and the role you will have to play. Diáz explains to you you will be two newlyweds on honeymoon ready to enjoy the sea, the sun, but your true goal will be to approach Monteiro and try to understand his plans and catch him.

"Todo claro? " asks your superior.

"Si." replies Peña.

"Está bien, aquí están sus pasaportes. Nadie te hará preguntas en el aeropuerto, pero sé discreto." continues Diáz in Spanish.

"¿Cuándo nos iremos?" you ask him not at all enthusiastically.

"In two days, just enough time to get the final paperwork in order. Needless to say, be discreet, don't ask too many questions around and play smart." he tells you again "Remember your roles and you won't fail." he adds taking your leave.

When Peña closes the office door behind him, you throw yourself into your chair with a despondent air "What do we do now?"

"What do you mean?" he asks you crossing his arms and furrowing his brow.

"Peña, you and I can't stand each other and now we have to pretend to be husband and wife, I don't know if you got that!" you exclaim nervously.

"Sure, Blanca. Or would you prefer, amor?" he asks smiling at you with that slapping face of him.

You roll your eyes; you don't know how you're going to stand him! You hope to catch Monteiro in a few days and put an end to that charade as soon as possible.

Taglist: @love-affair-with-fandoms; @pedr0swh0r3; @angel98624 if you want to be added let me know, if you liked this first part, leave a comment, like or reblog, if you didn't like it, it's okay, be kind and move on 🙂

#javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #javier x reader #narcos ff #narcos fic #soft! javier pena #dom!javier pena #smut #javier pena fic #javier pena

[gatheredfates]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Aww, I love positivity asks! I can't say mine are in any way profound, but:

My loved ones. Cheesy, I know. Shout-out to my partner who does have a Tumblr account but refuses to be perceived because I know he'll read this and appreciate the fact I didn't tag him. I've been asked before how on earth I've been in a relationship with one person for over half my life and that's simple: I fell in love with my best friend. 💖 Also huge shoutout to @riftdancing who will be perceived because she's the platonic love of my life and, without her, I would not be who I am today. These two have seen me at my literal worst and stuck by me — I love them to bits! There's also my FC members/close friends @lightwrought / @gaygentofchaos / @whirlwyrm / @snakemoltsiren / @swingbeard / @dragons-ire / other people I have missed and/or wouldn't like to be tagged but know you are included because I love you. IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW. Also everyone in Seafloor!

Music. I've always loved music, but I really only got into music and listening to different things later in life! Sleep Token fundamentally altered my brain chemistry and I will thrust them on anyone who will listen (start with Sundowning through to Take Me Back to Eden if you want the whole ~experience~ but Jaws is also a good separate introduction). I've also come to love Crywolf, Ashnikko, Bad Omens, as well as old faithfuls like Red, Evanescence, Halsey, etc.

My cat. She's not really my cat, but she adopted me. Ratticus le Catticuses the third of her name; brat cat, rat cat; little goblin; my little baby girl, love of my life. (Her name is Lucy).

Graphics design/creativity. I make it no secret my favourite part of my irl work is when I can make a brochure/pamphlet/poster. I don't profess to be an absolute master in it, and I'm entirely self-taught, but there is something about making something better. It's the same with GPOSING and the like. I don't do it often, but my edits are there. There are people in the community that use the little dividers I put together in Canva. It makes me happy!

My current mental health/personal journey. I'm in a really good spot mentally. My diagnosis has changed my life, and I was already on a good trajectory with my personal mantra/outlook on life prior to it. A few years go I was extremely depressed/anxious, I had a lot of trauma/paranoia around my spaces, and acted in ways I'm not proud of. I've reached out and reconciled a lot of it, and it's allowed me to engage with this community and my personal projects in a manner that's healthy and engaging for me. I was in a spot of ~drama~ recently (which I won't get into — that's another personal choice I made to keep things between relevant parties) and, rather than freaking out and thinking everyone hated me... I just dealt with it. I took all sides, formulated my opinions and blocked the people I didn't want to deal with. I was SO proud/happy with myself — I still am! It's not world-ending like it used to feel and that's so freeing for me as someone who used to be a chronic people-pleaser/conflict averse. I still want to try to be the latter, but I really believe the manta of 'be kind, take no shit'. It's done wonders for my happiness.

This got really long, I appreciate anyone who got to the bottom! I'll send these out to ten people from my permanent interaction call because I think that's nice. Thank you @disciple-of-frost for sending this in!! ✨

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things

[bobparkhurst]

Hi! I come to you for advice, as I trust your opinion in matters like this. Me being just a casual viewer of war shows, not interested in it just for the genre, should I watch Masters of the Air or not? Thank you in advance! 💖

Augh, I answered this, then my browser crashed not helpful. Anyway, the gist of this is, I am not a casual war shows enjoyer, but I am going to do my best on this front given I know the one war show I know that we both enjoy.

tl;dr: I think MotA has good characters, doesn't sacrifice telling a good story for historical accuracy and I've watched it like, three or four times now already.

So actually yeah, I'd suggest giving MotA a shot. I will not be offended if you don't like it, but I do think it's worth it.

Longer answer under the cut (and sorry, I did get rambly):

While MotA looks from the outside as more of an ensemble piece, it's really about four guys, and two of those guys are a Set. It is also very historically accurate, but it doesn't feel like they got super hung up on that, they get the balance that this is still a historical fiction show.

They do change things up in places for the sake of the narrative. This doesn't always work, a couple of plot threads get dropped in what I feel are clunky ways. Honestly, I think they just tried to do too much and it meant some things didn't get the weight they needed. Still, I found it a mostly cohesive story and strong enough to follow each of our main guys.

Be warned though: there are timeskips a lot in the second half of the series. These are telegraphed quite well but can be a little jarring. This does cause some minor characters to appear to randomly disappear.

They also do not shy away from injury or other horrors of war, so be prepared for that. If you want fuller content warnings, up for that.

So really, it comes down to if you think you're gonna enjoy these four guys:

Gale "Buck" Cleven and John "Bucky" Egan

The very quick way to describe these two are the classic quiet guy/wild child pair, but I think that does them a bit of a disservice because there's depth to both characters that really gets borne out over the course of the nine episodes. Bucky gets a lot more to work with outwardly, but I think they're both gorgeous characters. Their love for each other and how it is tested and reinforced and drives them is a huge part of this show. Austin Butler and Callum Turner have great chemistry, and in both cases, there is a real solid presence of the other when they're in scenes alone. Loved their dynamic with each other and with the men they lead.

2. Harry Crosby

Understated protagonist. He also gets a great character arc over nine episodes. Anthony Boyle is incredible in the role and makes him one of the most likeable and engaging characters I've ever seen. IRL Croz wrote a memoir A Wing and a Prayer which is refreshingly frank and quite funny in parts too, and I think that really serves here.

3. Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal

We don't get to meet him till a few episodes in, so he doesn't get as grand an arc as the others, but I think that works because we get to really hit the story of a guy who just wants to serve justice being flung immediately into an ongoing horror. We get to immediately contrast him with the guys who have been around longer. Also he's really beautiful and SO GOOD AT HIS JOB my God.

Also, while there are supporting characters, none of them really get the focus these ones do, so expectations should be managed on that front. That said, the actors are all great so I personally feel you do get a hold on who they are. Nobody expects you to know everyone's names. I am still only 70% sure I know who Murphy is.

(as usual, my favourite guy is a supporting guy but at least he gets some narrative explicitly discussing him and his job and also he's Raff Law so like, his face is distinctive).

Also Corin is in it for a couple of scenes so you should watch those if nothing else.

apologies for that getting long i love my boys but i also tried to be conscious of my war media nerd hat

#mota #answermywearyquery

[heart2beom]

2. how to get fired

SYNOPSIS a romcom office series; in which you're a huge romantic at heart but the shitty men you attract leaves you with countless failed relationships. then, you meet choi soobin. in an elevator. he isn't interested in you, he finds you annoying, and he clearly has zero respect for you, so why the hell are you so bent on making him like you?

AUTHOR NOTE the way im literally killing my engagement by delaying my posting time so early on in this fic..tsk tsk. whatever, at this point, im writing this for fun

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Your history with men: long, futile, possibly traumatic -- which, you guess, is more reference of the ends of your relationships, but besides the point. The most important of all, of course, is how all of the men you've dated liked you more than you did them.

You don't mean to brag, really, but despite those relationships ending, it always starts off incredibly well. By making the first moves -- subtly to not risk a man's toxic masculinity hurting his ego, you get a guy right there, right under your fingertips.

It's worked for years, after trial and error, trial and error, your N.U.T strategy, originally developed in your sophomore of high school, has proved to be successful in all regards of getting a man.

Yes, the names silly, albeit best to remember you were a teen, but changing the acronym would mean changing the magic...the steps work! It's simple really, because it goes like the following:

N = NAME rule: repeat his name as much as possible (higher success rate with aegyo)

A week after the blonde had joined the team, Chaewon already decided to use him as an excuse. Inviting everyone to dinner on tuesday, because apparently it was to celebrate blonde's one week anniversary at the job. Apparently.

Beomgyu was the one who first started the dinner after work thing and everyday, you remember to sleep hating the man for leaving this legacy behind because even when the asshole left, it continued on, to your dismay. Chaewon was apparently his successor, because she had taken the role of pestering everybody about work dinners the moment he left.

Hanging out with your colleagues after work was such a bizarre thought. Not only was it a direct violation of your strict Separate Work Life from Personal Life policy, it was unnecessary. When she first invited you, you wondered if there were genuinely psychos who would go out of their way to hang out with people that remind them of work.

You didn't have to wonder for too long. Coincidentally (not) enough, the psychos were all around you. The entire office would frequently go out after work with the exception of you and Mr. Geuk, your manager. Who was never really invited in the first place.

"Hey! Fake blonde!" you shouted out to your colleague, who you found was in the elevator. Which really seemed to be the only place you could talk to him.

This time, different to before, he had acknowledged you and reached out to press a button. You expected it to close so you hurried your pace towards the elevator, but it didn't, it stayed open.

A bloom of proudness spread across your chest, was you mentally preparing to got through with N.U.T so incredibly powerful he already got effected? It truly seemed like it.

When you walked in, you looked over to him for a bit. Until you broke into a little smile. "Hey, thanks for—"

Your sentence was interrupted the minute your eyes fell onto Chaewon's figure, the back of her little bob right in your face.

She turned to you to give a little thanks — which you assume is about the elevator being left open. You just nodded, shamelessly taking the credit.

But when she turned around to face the closing elevator, you lightly scoff. If he didn't see Chaewon behind you, he would've let the elevator close like normal, meaning N.U.T wasn't powerful enough to transcend human capabilities, it was a shame.

It was also incredibly awkward. Your proudness deflated and the elevator still going as slow as ever.

"Y/N, do you really not want to go out with us today?" Chaewon suddenly spoke up.

You don't know why you took the time to pretend like you were thinking about it since her back was facing you, but you did anyway. "Sorry Won, just can't."

She turned herself to you again. "But why" she drawled, pouting.

"You know...you know how busy I get..." you lied, making sure to avoid eye contact.

But it didn't help you out too much. Chaewon figured you'd lie, as she just exhaled, knowing you wouldn't budge on your policy. Maybe the lie would've held up if you haven't been audibly complaining in the office about how you have nothing to do, practically every other week.

"It's a small get together, right?"

You looked at the person next to you, then you and Chaewon looked at each other, than back at the blonde, both of you clearly being startled that he spoke.

"Um, yeah. Yeah! It's just the people at work at some old diner and stuff."

"Well, I'll be there then." he said, to which Chaewon froze, then frantically nodded, smiling ear to ear, no sign of her previous sulky face, telling him the details of...whatever, you weren't listening really.

You only stood there, with your hand tightened on your bag as you let your thoughts go far too deep. You know Kim would've asked him out to the dinner, she invites anyone and everyone — with the exception of Mr. Geuk. You figured from that information alone that the blonde initially rejected the invite.

So the sudden change of heart baffled you, it left you confused. It wasn't like she added any new inciting information; she just asked whether or not you were coming.

Which you emphasized you weren't...and like a bulb lit up above your head, you've solved the mystery in a matter of seconds.

The elevator had reached the lobby floor, the elevator door open, exiting a hurried blonde.

You've figured who the blonde was by the one week of observation — he wasn't an easy man. But by this interaction alone, you'd concluded who he was -- a savage, an evil, annoying preppy little blonde.

So, you did what you promised to never do — turn into a psycho.

You ran to catch up a little to Chaewon, who was only a few steps ahead of you.

Before she could say anything, you interrupted with an inhale, then an exhale, giving up your life long policy. "I'm coming too." you said, dropping the bombshell.

"To...?"

"To the after work dinner, of course."

It was silent, for a bit as you both stared at each other.

"Oh, cool!"

You were most definitely hoping for a more enthusiastic response, but that was forgotten quickly.

Which is how you found yourself grumbling, as you had your arms folded holding a storming grudge, sitting right across of the blonde, dimpled, gigantic, ass. You made sure to push Sunghoon out the way to get the chair right in front of the little asshole, to which the silver haired rolled his eyes at.

There was a need bubbling inside your gut, a need to destroy the blonde…and also find out his issue with you. Other than you planning his doom, which, he doesn’t know about. He shouldn’t know about.

You had Chaeryeong, who was practically five seats away from you, squeezed in the tables corner, very confused, practically asking you hurd of questions with her eyebrows. You tried to make her understand but alas, you're no expert in transmitting information without using the art of the tongue, and it was getting awkward with everyone looking between the two of you, so you just shook your head at Chaeryeong in a way of saying 'not now'.

Which was simple enough for her to nod, and hesitantly tune back into the conversation with the rest — being Chaewon the bob cut, Sunghoon the idiot, Jaehyun the hot douche, Sakura the cool one, and Yunjin the intern. You figured the conversation wasn’t so hot to jump yourself into.

In the duration of the team dinner, you found it extremely hard to start up a conversation with the man across from you. He was right there, why did it feel like there was a literal gigantic wall between the two of you? You snapped yourself out of it by shaking your head, you were getting distracted and discouraged.

You had to follow up with N.U.T, no matter what.

"Hey!" you said chirply. You made sure in front of him, you slightly slammed your hand on the table, which, thank goodness, finally caught his attention. He smiled a little tightly, but it was a smile regardless.

Which you completely forgot to plan ahead of time, you were expecting him to ignore you again -- you even mentally prepared to make a scene and throw a drink at his face.

"Hi!" you said again, as a form of a greeting this time.

"Hey, Y/N." he replied.

And, as a direct result of your lack of planning, this was your first strike of crisis. Your head was blank, trying to search for names to match up with his face but the only thing popping up was, sickly, fake blonde.

Your faux confidence was deflating all the more, nervousness cracking a little more through the facade. "Hi, uh,"

His brow perked up, the polite smile he put up, dropped. Completely.

And so, your brain went into full red emergency blaring mode. "Hi So..hyun?"

His expression was far from impressed.

You had it in there somewhere, it was in there. "Soo...hyung?" you said again with the ends of your lips trembling.

"Um, my name is—"

"No!", you yelled out of impulse, which proved to be a mistake since it caught the attention of the entire table.

"What happened?", Chaewon asked, worried.

"Nothing, nothing. I was just—"

"She shit her pants." Jaehyun interrupted, which then shifted the entire table's focus on to him. He shrugged. "I don't know, she looks constipated."

"What? Nope, no, I'm not going to engage with this when we're in an out of work setting." you raise your hands in surrender then drop them, "Seriously, guys. It's nothing, continue talking about Die Hard...or something."

"Nobody... was talking about Die Hard." Chaeryeong said, which you figured was out of instinct. You glared at her, and thankfully she took the hint quickly as she made an 'O' shape. When she weirdly carried their not Die Hard conversation again, you and the blonde were made sure to be excluded.

You turn your full focus on the guy, seeing that a subtle pout was formed on his lips as he looked at the group, looking like he wanted to desperately join in. You sighed at the site; he was pitiful.

You composed yourself preparing to take one last shot. "It's Soomin right?"

"Soobin. It's Soobin." he said, cattier than earlier.

"Ah..." you nodded, your brows knitted together. "Are you sure? I clearly remember manager calling you Soomin!" you were digging yourself a bigger hole the more you talked, but no matter how many times you tried, you couldn't stop yourself from talking.

"You silly goose, you're trying to prank me! Just a warning though, I'm not the biggest prank fan." you said awkwardly following that up with a chuckle.

And to that he had his brows deeply furrowed, to which you respond with a dropped smile.

"Me and you, S-soomin," you said the name hesitantly, gulping felt like you were swallowing down shame. It was painful, incredibly painful. "Soomin, I just know we're going to be very good friends. Me and you," you point to him then back to your face. "A couple of best friends."

He didn't respond to that, rather just nodded, then refocused his attention on a totally irrelevant, not Die Hard conversation that was happening beside you both.

You had to take your shot or giving up your policy was going to turn out to be a complete waste. So, you cleared your throat, "Or perhaps lovers." you said under your breath.

He heard. Oh, did he hear. He snapped his head to you, again, with the same raised brow.

You gave him a quick smile, your eyes wandering down to the surface of the table as your lips kissed your teeth in embarrassment.

This was harder than you imagined.

But thus, you learned a new, valuable lesson. N.U.T wasn't fool proof, sometimes, a step might fall through, and when that happens, you need to remind yourself that human beings are diverse creatures—men are diverse creatures.

One step might not work, or can't work, but it didn't guarantee your complete failure. In fact, you had two more steps—frankly, better steps.

U = UNEXPECTED TOUCH rules: little touches, as unexpected as possible

Its been a few weeks after the Soomin incident, and you've learned to build up your relationship with the blonde in hopes of making the second step not be abrupt. So far, you've been ...failing. You don't even see him in the decade old elevator anymore! It was getting bad.

"So, what? Your nutting plan isn't working anymore?"

You snapped your focus from Soobin to the girl behind the desk you were leaning on, Chaeryeong.

"First of all, keep your voice down!" you hissed. "And second of all, it's called nut because I used to really like nuts in high school. It has nothing to do with nutting."

"For some reason, I'm having a hard time believing that." she said, then you rolled your eyes, shifting your attention back to the distressed blonde on a call.

"It's kind of funny though, if you think about it." you mumbled, reaching for the oatmeal cookie jar.

"Nutting? Not really."

"Oh my god Chae," you groan looking back at her again, "I'm talking about Soobin!"

Her lips make an O shape in realization, as she rests her forearm on the desk. "What's funny about him?" she whispered.

"How he's completely avoiding me." you mumbled as you noticed him getting up from his chair, heading to what you think would be the printing room.

"Okay, I have to go. Give me a high five for good luck." you quickly said raising your hand, Chaeryeong raising hers to slap yours, completely out of loop.

Then off you went, with a cookie you don't want in your hands, speed walking to catch Soobin in the printing room.

And thankfully, you weren't wrong. You noticed his back hunched over the printer.

"Want some help?" you asked, to which he turned around. You expected to see a horrified expression with the way hes been avoiding you, but he just had a small smile as he nodded.

Chaeryeong's high five...you have to thank her later.

"It's not printing for some reason. I have no idea why." he mumbled, stepping back to make way for you to take a look.

"Well..." putting your hands on your hips, you looked at the printer. The one thats been here since the building was founded. The thing is, no one knew how to make it work, it was spontaneous. It worked, then it didn't.

But you weren't going to tell Soobin that.

You put your free hand on his shoulder, looking directly into his eyes. "Soobin—hey look, I know your name now!" your changed tone was that of excitement but Soobin was left confused. So you cleared your throat, your voice deeper. "Soobin, I am so glad that you reached out to me. With courage like yours, I'd think you were an ex veteran. And I feel like, through this interaction, we can be the great friends that I promised you we would be. And maybe, something more—"

He pushed your hand away from his shoulder. "I was just asking for help with the printer?"

"I was just asking for help with the printer" you mimicked him in a mocking tone, you'd like to look back and believe this was your way of bantering. But he definitely didn't think so, with his face scrunched up at the impersonation. You shrugged. "Soobin, this is a bonding moment between two colleagues. Maybe friends, maybe two flirting buddies—"

"How are we anything more than colleagues?"

"Hey, what's going on here?" you looked at the door to see Sunghoon poking his head in, then you rolled your eyes.

"I just needed help with the printer." Soobin said pointing with his thumb to the back.

“Oh, that thing?", you glared at the boy in hopes of sending him a signal to shut up, but alas, it was no use. He just gave you a weird look back before continuing. "If it doesn't work, it's not going to work. You're better off with the printer in the manager's office."

"Ah, I didn't know that. Thanks."

You cursed under your breath as you saw Sunghoon walk away through the glass wall.

"I was about to tell you that. But you interrupted me." you said holding up a forced smile.

“You know I have, like, a hundred clients on hold? You completely wasted my time on purpose!"

"Okay, let's calm down. Hear me out." he raised his brow, waiting for you to continue. "Having a good relationship with your colleague is proven to be important—"

He rolled his eyes, as he dropped his hands to his sides, preparing to walk away.

"Soobin, look—"

"I would like it if you called me Mr. Choi from now on." he said coldly, turning away to leave the printing room.

And that was that. This man officially hated you.

"Don't you think it was too easy for him to hate me? I only stalled for what, three seconds? And suddenly I'm wasting his precious time?" you sulked, staring down at your cup of coffee.

"What's stopping you from hitting him with nut's final blow?" Chaeryeong asked, then tilted her head. "Nevermind, probably a restraining order."

Like a light bulb switched on once again, you turned to face Chaeryeong. "No, but you're right. The last step is the most impactful." Chaeryeong shook her head to stop you from continuing, which was a failed attempt.

"Hear me out, okay. It could reverse his dislike for me, like I'm not even trying to make him fall in love with me anymore, I'm just trying to not make it awkward working next to him. Frankly, I'm really thinking for the team here, It'll be good for the work environment."

"Right." she drawled, narrowing her eyes at you as she took a sip of her coffee.

"If you don't believe me, watch." you said, getting up from your chair, keeping your head up high, as you walked out of the break room.

You found Soobin still sitting at his desk, using the computer. Everybody else was either in the break room, or outside eating lunch, but he was just there.

Looking at...hedgehogs?

When you squinted your eyes to see the search more clearly, you found it was 'hedgehog pet food'. It was odd, but you smirked to yourself as you slowly approached him.

You had material for your last step.

T = TAKE INTEREST rules: in his interests

"Hey." you breathed out. Soobin jumped a little, immediately closing the hedgehog tab. Then, he spinned his chair around to you, collecting himself.

"I'm so sorry for earlier today, you know, wasting your time and stuff."

His eyes widened a bit in shock, then he cleared his throat, holding up a smile. "Oh. Well, thanks for apologizing."

You nodded. "Yeah, you know, I just get so weird at work when I don't get enough sleep. My hedgehogs keep me up at night, it's a nightmare."

"Wait, you have hedgehogs?" his brow perked up.

Again, you nodded, that time with a smile of achievement. "Mhm, yeah. People say from time to time, 'oh it must be so easy', and I'm just like, go get yourself a hedgehog first." you were getting in character as you talked, arms folded.

“No, exactly. People think it's so easy!"

"Oh my god, wait. You have a hedgehog too?" you asked, fauxing disbelief, slack-jawed.

"Yeah, I do. Only one though. I heard its hard with multiple." he said.

"It is." you mouthed which earns you Soobin's light chuckle, his eyes morphing into crescents.

"Hey," your brows perk up at him speaking up. "I'm sorry for you know, getting mad at you. You were just trying to be friendly—"

"So, here's what I'm getting. Everyone with the exception of me, is betting on Soobin not falling in love with Y/N by the end of the month?" you heard Yunjin say, very loud and very clear.

Your eyes widened as you looked at Soobin, who was very confused, back to Yunjin, who was walking backwards, facing Chaewon, Jaehyun, Sunghoon, and Sakura. They were just coming in from outside, holding the lunch they promised to get.

When Yunjin turned around, she stopped at her tracks, looking at Soobin who had now stood up from his chair, then you, who was already standing.

You inhaled then exhaled, your arms crossed as you bit down on your bottom lip.

"Shit." you said under your breath.

"So...so what I'm hearing is that you made up this stupid plan—"

"It's called nut." you muttered.

"You know that's not helping you out, right?" he scoffed, turning around to the side to quickly run through his hair.

Soobin had publicly embarrassed you by giving you a 'we need to talk', and making you follow him like a child to the printing room. Which, isn't known to be a friend to privacy.

He was practically scolding you right in the open, the glass walls showing the scene to employees outside.

"Look, I don't know how they found out. I only told this to Chaeryeong."

"The receptionist? Are you insane? Of course it'll get out if you tell the receptionist at work!" he hissed, then he exhaled, his shoulders dropping a bit.

"Was this, like, your way of hazing me? Be honest."

Would this get you out of trouble? You weren't going to admit that you did this to plan his doom.

Or make him think you did it because you liked him.

You finally nodded. "Yeah. Its like a tradition. We even did it to Yunjin when she first came."

"You bet on her falling in love with you? By the end of the month?"

"Yeah. People do this type of hazing a lot in sales." you lied. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it."

"Well, that's weird. Because it's quite literally against the rules." when he saw your eyes widen, and your composure breaking, he continued, "Hazing is qualified as harassment to HR."

And then, boom. The final blow.

"Ah. I see!" you squeaked, your anxiousness reaching an all time high. "Well, good thing this was just friendly, you know, games." you said as you quickly headed to leave the room.

"I'm going to report you to HR." he said, as you reached out for the door knob. You spinned around, with hands on your hips, and a trembling smile. You took a deep breath in.

"You know what's so great about this country? Freedom! And rights! You have the right to report me to HR, and—and seriously, I commend you for it. So, you know, good luck." you said, then turned around to the door, a curse slipping out your mouth.

Then, you turned around to face Soobin again. "I would, though, like, appreciate it if you didn't. But, you know, your choice." you corrected your earlier statement, chuckling awkwardly.

Soobin only gave you a tight lipped smile, one that highlighted his dimples. Which just confirmed your doom.

You finally walked out, stomping to the break room. You needed to know how everyone found about this.

Everyone's gaze fell upon you when you walked in, the mood being tense.

"He's reporting me to HR." you finally said, breaking the silence.

"What? Wow, you bothered him that bad?" Sunghoon said.

"Oh my god, is she going to get fired?" Yunjin added. "Before me?"

You rolled your eyes, pulling out a chair to sit down, your energy was at a complete low. Your attention snapping to Jaehyun, who was chewing his fried chicken loudly.

"Can you close your mouth when you eat asshat?!" you snapped.

"Jesus—alright, alright." he said putting his wing down.

"Y/N, I don't want to say I told you so, but I really want to." Chaeryeong whined, flailing your arm around. You glared at her, but nod to give her permission. You definitely deserved it.

"I told you so." she whispered, which earned her Chaewon's shaking head in disapproval. "What? It felt good, if anyone's wondering."

“I think I can go convince him not to report you." Sakura spoke up.

You shot your head up to Sakura. "Wait, seriously? Oh my god, you're a genius—a mentee has to practically obey their mentor. Thank you so much Kkura, you're seriously the best."

She lightly laughed. "I mean, I'll try. I don't know if it'll actually work."

You blowed her kiss, mouthing a thank you, pouting at how cool she is.

"So, when exactly are you guys going to makeout?"

And, the moment was ruined.

You flipped off Jaehyun, to which he responded with sticking out his tongue immaturely. But then that reminded you of the reason you came here in the first place and your face soured.

"Wait, how did you guys know about the bet? I mean, it wasn't technically a bet—how did you guys know?"

Chaewon spoke up this time. "You told us. At the diner a few weeks ago. You don't remember?"

You shook your head, brows knitted as you slowly tried to recollect the memory.

"God, you must've been really wasted."

In conclusion, you caused your own downfall.

For the rest of the week, you tiptoed around your manager. Especially after Sakura informed you that Soobin wasn't budging. You don't know what you thought it would do, Mr. Geuk was known to be spineless, he wouldn't fight for you to stay if HR determined that you had to leave. But you weren't in the position to risk anything, so you really tried to suck it up.

Mr. Geuk was easy, but exhausting to please. Another week went by, and every minute felt like you would be called up to his office and told about your termination. So, you went back to the break room, to prepare a plate of tea and a sandwich—you truly were a slave at this point on.

When you walked to approach his office, the tray in your hands, you heard yelling. Then immediately, the door burst open with Soobin coming out. He gave you a quick glare, but then went on to ignore you. When you saw him go, you hesitantly walked in the office.

"Mr. Geuk? I prepared you some food, I know the job gets hard." you said smiling, putting the tray on the small coffee table.

"Ah, thank you. You didn't have to, but thank you." he said smiling to you.

You walked over to his desk slowly. "What happened with Soobin?"

He sighed. "I really thought I'd get another you, but I think now I've just come to appreciate your skills a lot more." you raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. "He's a horrible salesman!" he yelled throwing his hand up.

"Way worse than Chaewon. He's driving all our clients away!"

"Ah..." you said quietly. "Are you thinking of... firing him?" you asked with a glint of hope. It was low of you, but if he was gone, that meant you weren't going to get fired. Of course that would make you attempt to bite away a smile.

"What? No! I mean, I wish! But we don't have the resources to go through another hiring process." he said, groaning as he spinned around in his chair. "Fuck, did you see that little brat? Stomping out when I gave him just a little more hours as punishment!"

You sighed. If the manager wasn't going to fire him, that meant Soobin was going to stay. You had to do something.

"Boss, don't scold him too much." you reluctantly mumbled.

"Huh?" he sneered. He stopped spinning, facing you now.

"I mean, he's practically a rookie. I wasn't the best when I first started working here, you know? He just needs a little guiding, I promise. Just... lay off the hours." you bit your bottom lip, "Pretty please?" you clasped your hands together, pouting.

He exhaled, shoo'ing you away. "Alright, alright, I'm trusting you. Go back to work."

You nodded, a smile forming at the ends of your lips as you exit the office.

You looked to find Soobin, but he wasn't at his desk. So, you tried the next best thing.

The printing room.

"What are you doing?"

Soobin was, once again, hunched over the printer. This time, poking the inside of it with a pen. When he turned his head to see you, he rolled his eyes, ignoring your question.

"That's a lot of attitude for someone who's bad at their job." you blurted.

"The manager told you." he concluded, sighing. You nodded, your arms folded, smugness overtaking your pose.

"I'm trying to fix the printer." he said, turning back to it.

"With a pen?" you asked in disbelief. "Hey, if you're doing this to impress Mr. Geuk, don't, it won't work."

"What? Seriously? So, what will? I can't get stuck with unpaid overtime this week." you didn't respond, choosing to stay silent, to which he responded to with a groan. "Look, I'll—I'll drop the HR complaint. Just tell me how to get the manager off my back, you're clearly on his good side."

You bright up, walking over to him now. "We should make a deal first."

He cocked his head to the side when you snatched the pen from his hand and took a sheet of paper from the printer. "A peace treaty, let's make a peace treaty." you corrected yourself, writing the title Soobin & Y/N peace treaty.

"Also, permission to call you Soobin?" you asked tilting your head, still holding the smug smile.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." he mumbled.

All there is to say, was that once again, you managed to dig yourself out of your own hole — successfully.

#txt x reader #txt fluff #txt scenarios #txt imagines #soobin fluff #txt drabbles #soobin smut #soobin drabbles #txt headcanons #soobin headcanons #txt reactions #soobin timestamps #txt fic #soobin fic #txt timestamps #txt x you #soobin x reader #soobin x you #yeonjun smut #beomgyu x reader

[spectralsleuth]

Now that we're entering into 2024, I'm asking some artists and writers that I follow:

1) What is the one piece you're most proud of from this past year?

2) What are some pieces that you would have liked more people to see? If you can include links, I'd love to go check them out!

3) What were your top three favorite pieces (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(As always, no pressure to respond! Feel free to just ignore, or let me know if you'd rather I not send you these kinds of asks in the future.)

This is such a sweet and fun ask!! Thanks so much! I enjoyed seeing other authors answering this it’s so hype to get it myself.

1. This is hard to answer, because this year I tried to do something different with every fic I posted. When I got a concept I very pointedly didn’t shy away from it because it seemed difficult, or I thought I might be bad at it, so there’s something that makes me proud with each one. IF I HAD TO CHOOSE THOUGH I’m going to cheat and pick two.

What it Will Be I’m proud of this because it fell out of me SO EASY. I felt like the process of writing it was a testament to how hard I’ve been working at improving all year, and it came together very quickly and very well. I’m also proud because I incorporated @heckitall ‘s comic page to base it off of, and I’d never tried writing fic for a visual media like that. It was super fun!

On the OTHER end of the spectrum is Case of the Hidden City vs Lou Jitsu because it is VERY technically and narratively complicated and is by far the most ambitious thing I’ve ever written. It’s very hard, but I am VERY proud because I haven’t QUIT it. It’s not complete yet, but it is a good amount of the way there and I’m excited to finish it. Probably once I’ve recovered from surgery lol.

2. This sounds insincere maybe, but I really am happy with the engagement I get on my fic. I really do write my fic for me, and while I love to make sure as many people who want to read it can find it, at the end of the day I don’t like assigning people homework! I went through my whole works list and scratched my head and really tried to think of there was anything I wanted to plug, and I don’t think there is!

I guess I’ll post my lowest viewed, my Swanatello fic! @tangledinink ‘s AU I’m sure everyone’s familiar with lol. I knew that one would be lower when I posted it, if only because it has prior required reading (Swanatello). But I wrote it mainly because the AU was starting to reach a critical point and I REALLY wanted to write fanfiction of how I fantasized an ending might be, so I could go back and read it for comfort. I love Odette and the lore Kayson made for his AU, so I’ll plug this only because I think some people may have missed it!

3. Three works!! JUST THREE?? AUGH.

little kid with a big death wish

By @remedyturtles ! This made me leak tears the whole way through, so huge CW’s obviously. Not only was it one of the best fics I’ve ever read, but I got the privilege of seeing how talented Rem is behind the scenes a little and saw how they write and work and I really want to emulate them going forward. One of many all timer fics for me, for sure, I’d love to read any original fiction they put out.

The Whispering Forest and Other Tales

By @sroloc--elbisivni and @kithnkin ! I love love LOVE the feudal Japan fusion, the research, and the perfect blend of Usagi Yojimbo’s universe with what the Riseverse would have been like in this era. Even the little segues into what they’re wearing and eating is endlessly fascinating to me. Every single character is written to be the best and most interesting version of that character I could imagine. Theres Leosagi, there’s a PB&J murder mystery, there’s spookiness- AND Raphael Hamato gets wifed up!! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT? I love people that write a fully fleshed story that could be a standalone universe, without losing ANY of the flavor or humor or narrative of the original source material.

And last is I’m Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now

@tangledinink has such a good grasp of family and writing, and realistic portrayals of what would HONESTLY HAPPEN if you discovered literally any aspect of the ROTTMNT narrative. Not even taking into ACCOUNT the turtle nonsense, how do you unpack a family that’s been devoted to destroying a magic monster and sacrificing themselves, or a Dad that fought in a death match battle royale for over a decade, or a RIVAL CLAN OF NINJA? All the characters are written SO WELL, and Kayson does a fantastic job of never letting the characters or story fall into cliche tropes. Their characters are always super detailed, to the point where I really feel it if they’re hungry or hurt or itchy. Which is a weird thing to point out but they make sure you really FEEL the situation. Also like, turtles in highschool? Body dysphoria? My CO-CEO of Hamato Yoshi???

What a great year!! I had so much fun in fandom this year and made a lot of friends.

#rottmnt #tmnt #ask #friendlyneighborhoodterrapin #there’s so many others i want to mention #fic #fic rec #my fic

[itz-stus]

Helloo!! Namasteee!!! I wanted to request for Gojo x reader, a scenario where the reader is like a huge devotee and like has done like really hard worship and got like vardan from vishnu bhagwan (Like remember that cartoon roll no. 21). And like she has like a divine power. And like in general is like really playful and calm. You get what I mean. Like in her presence, there is like pureness and mischief. But she's like always believes in what the god tells her to do. Like to be righteous. Get what I mean. Like in a fight!! Hope you respond to thiss I would love to see your take in this!!!

Ohh my god!! It was soo soo much fun to write thank you for this request anon. So I wrote is as a mix of head cannons and scenarios like little parts of Satoru's life and let me know if you'd like a part two!

Masterlist

His Devotee Lover

"I am time, today I'll narrate the story of the devotee sorcerer and her beloved Gojo Satoru…I have seen everyone from her gift to her relationship with her friends…Her honesty and devotion…I have seen through it all…every incident unfolds before me. I am Gojo as well as Geto. I am the Shibuya battlefield…This story will last till I'm am and I…I am eternal…endless…"

You were a devoted devotee of Lord Vishnu from the beginning, worshiping him wholeheartedly. Your unwavering devotion brought happiness to Lord Vishnu, who granted you a divine boon—a mighty bow. With this divine gift, you embarked on a righteous path, using the bow to protect, uphold justice, and fulfill your spiritual journey. Grateful for Lord Vishnu's blessings, you vowed to serve him faithfully and follow his guidance with the utmost loyalty.

You joined Jujutsu Tech to protect people from curses and perform exorcisms for the greater good. Your classmates included Gojo, the strongest sorcerer; Geto, a curse user; and Shoko, a remarkable healer. You underwent training together, faced potent curses, and created deep bonds while executing your objective to ensure the well-being of humanity.

You and Satoru were close from the beginning of the year in your class.

Gojo Satoru entered your dorm room early in the morning, following the sound of jingling bells. He discovered you engaged in a serene pooja, offering prayers before a grand statue of Lord Vishnu. Captivated by the scene, Gojo silently admired your devotion, recognizing the power of faith and spirituality.

You turned around after finishing "Oh, I didn't realize you were here, Satoru-kun" You smiled calmly.

God, it was something about your smile. It was just so calming that it never failed to cause havoc in his stomach

"Here, have some" You gave him the Prashad, at this point he was pretty used to this.

"Thanks, Stuti"

Your technique enamored Gojo Satoru, falling even more for you. Your playful smile carried a sense of determination, adding to your allure. The elegance and divine grace with which you exorcised the curse left him in awe. Using your bow with a calm smile, you displayed a unique blend of strength and serenity.

When you'd play with the animals in the school, he would always sneak up on you to see your graceful smile.

You played the flute under a tree, surrounded by cats and dogs. Suddenly, someone poked your shoulder, and as you turned, you discovered Gojo hiding behind the tree. It became a playful game between you two. "Oh, look who it is, my dear Satoru-kun," you chuckled as he joined you, sitting beside you.

You two could talk for hours and never get bored with each other.

You always listened to his rambling and always showed an interest in his talks. It touched his heart how much you cared for everyone. Specifically for him, Geto, and Shoko.

Even though he was not a fan of mythology but he found it so fascinating when you told him stories of Lord Krishna, Lord Ram, and so on at night.

He loved it when you always tried out new sweets with him.

As Geto was preparing to leave, he decided to visit your dormitory. Upon entering, he noticed you diligently mending and sharpening your arrows. Intrigued, he approached you, causing you to look up from your task.

"Oh, Geto-kun, when did you arrive? I didn't even notice," you chuckled, pleasantly surprised by his presence. Putting aside your work, you offered to get him a glass of water as a gesture of hospitality.

"Don't worry about it. I just wanted to meet you," Geto responded, declining your offer and emphasizing his genuine intention.

Curiosity sparked within you as you realized the significance of his visit. "I see. Is there anything I can help you with?" you asked, attentively listening to his words?

Geto took a moment, contemplating the appropriate time to ask his request. Sensing the opportune moment, he paused and proceeded, "I was wondering if now would be the right time to make these two wishes."

Recalling the previous discussion about granting wishes, you nodded, acknowledging his intent. "Oh, yes, do you want to ask them now?"

With a determined gaze, Geto revealed his first wish, his voice unwavering. "My first wish is that you would always forgive me and anyone who works for me until they have committed 10,000 crimes. However, if the crimes are similar, they won't count."

His request struck a chord within you, causing your eyes to widen. A warm smile spread across your face as you responded, "Alright, and the second?"

Without hesitation, Geto proceeded with his second wish, his resolve unyielding. "The second wish is that you won't fight against me or anyone who works for me until those crimes are complete."

The weight of his wishes did not go unnoticed, yet you remained steadfast in your principles. Understanding the gravity of your promises, you replied, "Well, since you've asked them now, I promise that until the end of time, I will follow your two wishes."

Geto, aware of your unwavering determination and commitment to honoring your promises, recognized the advantage this granted him. He noted your pledge before departing from Jujutsu Tech, knowing that you would uphold your word.

Gojo Satoru, saddened by his friend's departure, couldn't sleep that night. The sound of a soft flute outside caught his attention. He found you playing the flute under the moonlight, offering solace and connection. This encounter became a source of strength, guiding him forward.

That night he just laid on your lap hearing your peaceful voice and flute lulling him to sleep.

When Gojo was going for the fight (the one where ijichi calls him in JJK 0), he came to your as he found you sleeping soundly. The sound of the door woke you up, "Are, Satoru-kun when did you get here? Is there something I can help you with?"

He just smiled and replied, "Just wanted to know if you were free"

"Well for you I always am so what is it?"

Gojo Satoru, seeking guidance and trust, approached you and asked you to be his charioteer. He expressed his desire for someone he could rely on to keep him grounded and prevent him from losing his way.

"But Satoru-kun, Mind that in this battle I won't pick any sort of weapons or use any techniques. It'll be all on you" She sternly said

#anime #anime x desi reader #desi reader #jjk x reader #jjk x desi!reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo sensei #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo angst #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #Geto #geto suguru

[writingonleaves]

Hi I don't know if you've seen the video of Jack and that girl skating tonight yet but it got me thinking. Could you possibly talk about how fans react to Nico and Clementine if that makes sense? How do they find out? unless these are all spoilers of course🙏🏼 Love your stuff!

hi! yes i did see that video which i think is very cute tbh so good for him! please fix his hair babe and drop the link to the jeans they were cute. i really do appreciate this question for a multitude of reasons so thank you actually for asking so i can indulge myself haha

so i've actually thought about this a lot, as someone who is myself a fan and has been a part of many different fandoms (hockey is by Far not my first. i was on one direction tumblr back in the day and am convinced it prepared me for Everything). i always find it interesting as someone who's a Part of one but doesn't always engage if that makes sense.

my point is, below is how i think it would go (no big spoilers), and it's based off of hope, my experiences with what i (and im sure a lot of you guys) have seen and being realistic.

so Clem's instagram is private. that's important. and in my world, i don't think she ever goes public, even when getting together with nico and getting married (this is a spoiler but not really...you think im not gonna make them stay together? please).

okay so we've seen how people start assuming things based on who the guys follow on ig, right? so nico follows clem a few weeks after meeting her, but no one really cares. because people have done their basic research and anyone who's followed the hughes for a few years know that clem is a hughes and a family friend. its the same energy as jack following nina on ig. no one blinks an eye.

they start dating april 2024, and no one is really thinking anything. nina does follow her in the summer, which raises a few eyebrows, but nothing crazy.

clem does a semi hard launch on her ig over the summer, but again, she's private and none of her friends are snitches, so no one in the general public knows anything

we don't really know (or at least i don't) how nico is when he's a relationship because i don't believe he's been in one the general public knows about since going pro (again, could be wrong, but this is all based off my own knowledge). for example, trevor just did a hard story launch, jack did a semi one with a post when he was with sienna, etc etc.

saying that, i think speculation really starts when nicole (jesper's gf) starts following clem on ig sometime in late summer 2024 or right before the season starts. we know nico and jesper are close enough to travel in the off season together, so that's big. people start noticing that other devs players like timo and jesper start following her. blaring siren horns. that's pretty much confirmation

the hockey fights cancer article is released in the 2024-2025 season, so peopele are like oh damn nico bagged himself a beautiful, smart doctor?? good for him. move aside buddy. that kind of stuff.

hard launch on nico's end? this instagram post. they've been dating for a bit over a year already at this point. everyone goes nuts as they do

and then i imagine it's kinda like, generally good? obviously you're gonna have some crazies being weird, but people Love that narrative of clem growing up with the hughes and now dating nico

she's not as public facing as other significant others in the league, but i imagine behind closed doors she eventually does embrace the role of being the captain's girlfriend (which i hope to write about at some point). i picture something like her and nico helping out a family financially receiving treatment in the hospital when finding out they're devils fans. very behind closed doors, but extremely sweet and thoughtful. one of the kids she's treating is a huge jack fan? immediate signed jersey and tickets to the next devils game. that kind of stuff.

bc clementine knows how important all of this is. and shes always known.

and then its the typical stuff. she's spotted at games, during playoffs with the iconic wag jackets, family skates, christmas parties, various ig stories from the hugheses, nico, nicole, etc etc.

in terms of games, yes she does join the family and friends boxes once in awhile, but she absolutely LOVES being in the action. so most of the time, she's out sitting with fans. it's great. she's shotgunned many a beer with fans. devs fans adore her bc she really is one of them and doesn’t shy away from that. many say a captain + their SO represent the organization. she and nico do it perfectly.

i hope this answer was what you were looking for. this was so long winded and i apologize for that, but i did want to think out my answer because i think it's important and fun to think about!! thank you so so much for asking❤️

#sweet anons #k replies #the blue au

[alastairstom]

Re Follow up to Wessa spicy and loving ur work > CC and long fits Q

I CANNOT WAIT FOR WESSA SPICY, U WRITE SPICY SO FREAKING WELL! I also have never thought about historical spicy stuff. which obviously happened cuz hello folks back then did it as well, it's not just a present day thing haha.

I think I just feel ur engagement is way more motivating and higher than CC's. Obv CC has mad kudos for creating this Universe, but like any author who has made It so clear that she wants to move on from the universe, the fun part is playing within it YK? Not just creating plots and marriages just so that the union and the good ending is the telos of it. The pay off is now seeing them banter about together, have the dynamics shift as they age, see how they view the world and how they continue to problem solve yk? And it gets even more fun when you create ensemble casts, bc THATS why Downton abbey is so long! It's so much fun to see it through, throughout!

An example I use is I follow these two authors who LOVEE their book universes, and also write generational fun family (modern day) ensamble casts with friends, and they spend normally 3-4 books focused on one character's OTP, seeing it through, throughout, and than moving onto another. Not the traditional stickler predictable "one book per pairing" in a series we see too often. AND THAN, when they move on, they continue to write publish 2 bonus chapters, update their interests boards, and talk about everything on their Patreon for like less than 3 dollars a month. there are over 100+ chapters now at this point!

Not to say that's what CC wants to do, but when you have amounted such a huge fandom, a lot of it is not just about making annual deliverables and canon events occur, but having fun just domestically and I feel like she doesn't want to do that. Which is totally fine! I respect that. But obviously the type of fan I am, as you can see, I gravitate towards the way you produce, engage and write (u write for yourself and ur fans, yes u have fans and I am one) more so than her. That's kind of what I was trying to get at in my initial post :-). Bc when CC wants to move on, it feel so lovely and safe, to know my safe space won't go, because ur still leading it. <3 <3 So again, from the bottom to the top of my heart, thank you <3

This made me tear up. Thank you so much, friend.

Messages like this make me feel extremely motivated to write. I really hope you enjoy my Valentine's fic as much as I am liking writing it.

I think I understand what you're saying - Cassie does a really good job of creating characters and telling their stories. I consider her to be one of the best creators of our time, specifically in TID and TLH as well as Sword Catcher (even if that one has less of a hold on me, it's inarguably one of her best works world-building and plot-wise.) But yes, sometimes you just want little fluffy post-canon stories of the characters, which is not always possible for a world-famous writer with tons of ongoing projects. I'm looking forward to Better in Black a lot because of this.

I just write what I want to see and roll with it. I am glad that it's what you want to see, too.

Dear God, I am tearing up a lot. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I truly appreciate everyone who has read one of my fics and given me a chance to play with their blorbos.

[felonsmojis]

Inbox check? /nf

HELLO AND HAPPY NEW YEAR ANON! this is more of a general announcement but its also related to your ask i promise X3

it has been a while and we have a new Functioning drawing tablet, and since we want everyone to keep updated since weve gotten a ton of new followers we now have a google document listing requests!

to access the document you can click the link above or the one we've added in the pinned post! please use this as a reference for your requests so that we dont get duplicate asks :D

we will make something fun for our 2000 FOLLOWER MILESTONE (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) soon hopefully, but for now we'd just like to send our love and gratitude to everyone who continues to send asks and engage with the blog, it really helps us get out of a funk when it comes to this blog in particular and its so nice to know that people are just havin fun with our art!! youre all so very kind and lovely and a huge part of why we take such long breaks (besides life happening always) is because we often lack a lot of confidence with our art, so THANK YOUUU to everyone who is super niceys about it <333

our inbox past this point wont close ever just because its fun to see whats in demand, keep in mind if we deny your request its just not gonna happen unfortunately, but its not any shade usually its because we have no connection to a specified fandom or it could be too complicated. as an addendum we are more likely to do requests on the fandom list from our carrd, which has also been updated and can be found right here or on our pinned post!

please feel free send in suggestions for a 2000 follower (!!!) special event because i dont know what there is to do with emojis in particular lol

✧ dirk :3

#anon #questions #announcements #i mean its kind of an announcement

[writingmysanity]

One year back on Tumblr

So, I am a little late on this since my one year mark was on the 21st. I originally wanted to do something fun for my one year anniversary but I realized that I just am burnt out at the moment. I am sure that you've noticed the lack of content- and I am sorry. I am hoping soon.

Instead, I've decided to make a post for some of the highlights since I've come back to tumblr. I've met so many wonderful people that I know that I wouldn't have had the honor to meet otherwise. I just want to list some of my mutuals and also artists and writers I've had the opportunity to find and interact with that i think you should all check out their content if you haven't already.

I am going to separate this by fandom lol because I love you all but I tend to lose myself in trying to remember everyone sometimes.

The Witcher first because it is what gave me the inspiration to come back and share my random bits of writing with you all.

@seidenbros steffi, beloved, you are truly the sweetest and kindest person ever. I have been blessed with your presence. you have been one of my biggest sources of encouragement and defiantly a huge enabler. you have listened to countless rants and ideas of story ideas that didn't always take off but that didn't stop us from ranting about them and fleshing them out to the point where they may as well have appeared, fully written and perfectly edited.

@cosmos-coma hello, sweetheart <3 one- happy belated birthday once more. I am so angry with myself for having gotten it wrong. Thank you for the light youve brought to my life. our letters and just being able to have someone to talk about the random craziness in life has been the absolute craziness of this world and our lives has been amazing. thank you for everything youve done, your unending adoration for my mini me who is the epitome of chaos but makes for some hilarious stories. I love our friendship more than words could ever properly express.

@queenxxxsupreme Kacey, you're probably my biggest enabler. you are an amazing writer, and an even better friend- even if you don't feel like you are sometimes. you've helped me through more than you realize in the last year that we've known each other. I can't wait to enact our plans to run away to another state and be cryptids in the woods and sell fancy cheese to rich people by the sea shore.

@daughterofautumn Goose, I haven't known you quite as long as the others but you have definitely sewn yourself perfectly into my life. your chaos and crazy energy fuels me daily. you and your obsessions (inadvertently dragging me into said obsessions) make my entire day. i love your energy. not to mention the absolute chaos that is your life. please sleep more darling, and drink plenty of water. I worry.

Arcane next!

this fandom was one that I defiantly stalked in silence for at least a month before I finally gave into the brain rot specifically for a wonderful person who amazes me with the depths of the love and kindness Shes shown to everyone who has the absolute pleasure to engage with her.

@grumpyoutlaw Grumpy, my beloved- my muse. you have been nothing but an absolute delight, a light, the very heart of this fandom. your art was what brought me into your orbit but your kindness has kept me around. writing that first piece for you was possibly the most spur of the moment but also the greatest domino that has affected the sheer amount of community i have been honored to encounter. thank you for everything. I adore you so much!

@thedreamlessnights Jams. I don't even know where to start. thank you for being so wonderful to me. your vampire fic was pinnacle for dragging me into this fandom well before i even fully committed to the fandom itself. and you followed me?? before I posted anything?? it always baffled me. you claim it was vibes lol and ill take it. you're an amazing writer and friend and I cant believe i get to call such an amazing, open, supportive person my friend. the space you've opened for everyone who wishes to let them have space to be themselves has been a blessing on my day-to-day life.

@sherwood-forests darling, I know we haven't spoken much but you are defiantly responsible for my Silco brain rot. I took a chance on your dragon fic and I cant ever recommend it enough. not to mention how kind you are?? you are the real treasure! thank you for encouraging me and being a light for everyone in the fandom.

@cedarcia DARLING. where to start? i can't believe you follow me and i cant believe I've been given the chance to be your friend. your talent is almost as impressive as your heart. you're always the first to hop on the train to try and help someone the best you can. I cant wait to visit and dress up like pirates to go sailing.

@thehistoriangirl first and foremost, your rants your T A G S... darling they give me life. getting to freaking out over our blorbos and stories we are working on (with a sprinkle of life outside fandom) has been amazing. bouncing ideas with you has never been boring in any capacity and the only thing i know to expect when i see that I've gotten a message from you is sheer just E N E R G Y and i LIVE for it. it is unmatched. not to mention you are 100% an enabler. ahaha

@mariana-souza getting to know you, in the short time that I've gotten to, has been amazing. getting to see how much work you put into your work- both art and writing- has been motivating to say the least. i love that we are able to just scream about things together- how you always seem to know what questions to ask when were talking about each others WIPs. your art is what brought you to my attention, and I am so glad I made the decision to interact with you further.

Shadow and Bone/Six of crows next!!

somehow, i feel like this fandom is simultaneously the smallest of the fandoms i find myself somewhat active in, but also the most tight knit.

@maliciousbrekker Cal. I don't know where to start- you are a wonderfully talented person and so very kind to everyone (also, I am sorry about dragging you into arcane in the middle of your SOC love <3) you are so relatable and i cant help but laugh at something you've posted at least once a day because S A M E. i know we aren't super close but just knowing i have such a wonderful mutual like you, who has on more than one occasion reached out just to check on me, i appreciate you more than you know and seeing your name pop up in my notifications always brings me joy.

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @sophierequests-trashblog I adore you both, I am sorry that we don't talk more often, you are both so pure and i love the interactions that we've had, even if they've been minimal. your amazing writers that i cant ever get enough of. thank you for being so welcoming into the fandom even if I've only ever written one piece to it in total lol. <3

there are several other moots that i just haven't gotten to engage with much at all, but i see you! in my notifications every day, and it makes my day every time. @insult-2-injury @astudyincontrasts @uniquedeerwitch

and of course- I can never forget my friend @rainbowpitofdoom you have been around for so long. we have seen each other grow and change and learn. you are honestly one of the best friends I've ever had and just getting to know you as a person has made me a better person and i need you to know this. I love you lots, Chesh and i don't know where id be without you.

every single one of these lovelies are wonderfully talented and just amazing people. they are writers and artists and they are a delight to know and get to engage with- i promise. if you ever need something new, or just to read something again, please! give them some love. they deserve every bit of it.

I love you all, and if you ever ever need anything please do not hesitate to reach out. even if its just needing to talk to someone. i truly thank every lucky star out there that ive been lucky enough to meet you all.

#ru speaks #i love you all so much #i am so appreciative of you all #for your love and support since ive come back

[my-mt-heart]

I'm anon about the "wind". Your answer to another question now is that Zabel doesn't understand Daryl's character, and I agree with you. and so my point of view is that Zabel is not behind shipbait. I think it's Norman's idea. yes, he is not responsible for everything. but he has influence, and he's the only one who knows his character or knows what makes people talk about him. and since Daryl is now alone, without his family and the people who identified him, they move on to a simple bait… and it all looks like rewriting the story with Leah and someone else

Okay, got it, thank you for following up. I agree that Zabel wouldn't have any interest in riling Caryl fans up. I don't think he was that knowledgeable of the fanbase. There's evidence he read Caryl scenes for his own purposes (or someone's purposes), but I don't think he was knowledgeable of Caryl's relationship or Daryl's and Carol's individual characters the way a showrunner who's written on TWD for many years or fans who actually watched the show from beginning to end would be knowledgeable. Until Melissa signed on for S2, Zabel was writing for his original character, Isabelle, and for Daryl, who he is treating like an original character in a lot of ways. Like @that-left-turn pointed out, he used to write for network TV where it's standard to tease something between the male and female leads. That's why I think he's leaning in that direction even though nothing will come of it in the end. So basically, his mistake was not bothering to do his homework, which is a huge fucking mistake in my book. I'm not saying he's solely responsible for the shipbaiting, but he is the reason why the shipbaiting could turn out to be the worst we've seen so far.

Then of course, there's AMC who have always relied on shipbaiting for engagement and apparently this time overestimated the fans' patience for it. And there's Norman who for some reason has to be marketed as the show's most eligible bachelor. Of all the players, I would've hoped he'd speak up on something that wasn't doing justice to the character he's played for over a decade. Based on what I've observed so far, I'm wary, but I think the fair thing for me to do is wait until S1 is over before I go further. The point I'm making right now is that the shipbaiting is a team effort, and like other Carylers have said elsewhere, I think it's helpful to call it out. All it does is insult everyone from the fans to the character to the actors who deserve so much better. If no one acknowledges it as the failure it is, then AMC will take that as permission to keep doing it.

Again, this is just my opinion as someone who's trying to pay attention to as much as possible and hear as many voices as possible. If not having the emotional capacity to watch the show from beginning to end invalidates my opinion, you are free to ignore it. Judge for yourself.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

[cookinguptales]

wwdits tarot: strength

As always, thanks to everyone for reading these. I asked for some feedback from my followers on how often they want to see these posts, thinking they'd tell me to cool it and slow down, but most people either wanted them daily or told me to just post whenever I had one ready so. Yeah, we're doing that going forward.

And if you don't want to see these anymore -- good news, that means this will all be done in like two weeks! lmao

Anyway, onto the post. I already sort of said what VIII. Strength was going to be about in the last post, but — well, let’s get into it.

Strength is a card that’s often paired with The Chariot, and that's what I've done here in this deck. Like I discussed in the Chariot post, both deal with inner strength but in different ways. The Chariot is about using your strength, courage, and willpower to manifest your desires in the real world, while Strength is more about quiet fortitude.

Quiet may not quite be the word we’d associate with Nadja of Antipaxos, but bear with me here. I’ll explain what I mean.

At first glance, Strength might not be the first card people would associate with Nadja. She’s a strong woman, obviously, but in a very fiery, brash, loud way. The quiet patience of Strength seems at odds with her huge personality.

But when you really think about it… I feel like Nadja uses that brashness of hers to cover up some very real trauma. She discusses the horrible things that have happened to her in frank, almost detached terms sometimes, but every so often you get this moment of like — just softness and vulnerability to her and you realize how this woman really survived for all the centuries she has.

Because that’s the thing about Strength. Yeah, people might associate it with a woman calming a lion, but the fact of the matter is that the woman has grappled with a lion and lived. More than any of the other vampires, Nadja has withstood countless tortures and indignities with her head held high.

One thing that I really loved about s4 of WWDITS was the parallels being laid out between her and Guillermo. I think she’s starting to see parts of herself in him, in his struggle to be seen and respected, in his stubborn fortitude in the face of pain, in the quiet, frantic love he has for his family.

Nadja has always had a soft spot for the downtrodden, whether that’s Guillermo or Jenna, and I think that’s because she knows how that feels. To be on the outside. To be helplessly casting around for something safe and secure and loved that’s yours. 

The thing about being a vampire is, well, they can’t see themselves in a mirror — but they can see the people around them reflected in the glass.

That’s something we see with vampires a lot in this show (projecting their concerns onto others because it’s too difficult for them to engage in true self-reflection) but I think it’s most common with Nadja, really.

And it’s during those moments of projection that I think we learn a lot about her. We learn how, despite her fierce, forceful persona, she still has a lot of that scared, lonely, unsure little girl to her. She still misses her family, torn to bits in front of her. She still misses the island she grew up on, changed as it now is. She still knows what it’s like to be systemically discriminated against for who she is and where she came from.

Nadja gets this look on her face sometimes, soft and unsure and a little bit lost, and it’s then that I see Strength most clearly in her. Because Strength is a card of fortitude, the ability to withstand any struggle with stubborn will and clarity of vision, and boy can Nadja withstand.

Nadja is a woman who grew up with nothing and still managed to lose everything. She’s a woman who’s had to rebuild her own life again and again and again, and she never stops doing it. She has the wit and mangy doggedness of a prey animal that has lived to old age, and she has the coping skills to match.

I think that’s why, out of all the vampires, she is the most willing to show her claws. She’s honed them through years of clawing her way out of pits, y’know? She knows what happens if you let a single person see your underbelly, and that’s why she’s so very cautious about who she lets behind her defenses.

The best defense is a good offense, and that’s what I see when I look at Nadja. A woman who doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting others — but she knows it’s the best way to avoid being hurt herself. It’s the best way to dispel any misconceptions about her weakness. She’s tired of being prey, y’know? She’s ready to be the predator.

But she’s not cruel, exactly, despite being a real hard-ass. Nadja has these moments of true compassion, and while she often tries to hide that behind scowls and bluster, there’s a kindness to her that she doesn’t often admit to. The compassion that Strength calls for is in here, too.

Like… yeah, she could have killed Guillermo’s entire family. But she didn’t. She didn’t do it specifically because she didn’t want to hurt him. She went along with Guillermo’s stupid play-acting just like she went along with Nandor’s overtures to the werewolf pack, and it's because both of them made a desperate appeal to her with their eyes that she could not ignore.

As much as she says otherwise, Nadja has proven again and again that she's willing to do things she doesn’t want to do because she wants to spare the feelings of her own pack, this family that she’s created for herself after the loss of her own biological one.

There’s Laszlo, of course, and he’s the only person that she’s willing to show her soft side to without reservation. But even with the others, she consistently shows that she’s more bark than bite (even if she is quite willing to rip a heart out if necessary) and she embodies the strength, compassion, and fortitude that this card calls for.

I think that episode where the Nadja doll ran away shows this most clearly; she puts on this front of being a terrifying boss bitch because she knows that’s the only way she’ll be listened to. She’ll use her “special voice” because she’s been walked on her entire life and she knows that being loud is the only way people will take her seriously. But all that is a facade that she uses to protect the soft parts of herself that have been repeatedly wounded.

I decided to put Nadja and Laszlo next to each other in this deck partially out of sentiment, I’ll admit, but also because I thought it would be a great way to compare and contrast the way the two of them face the world. Both of them have been hurt, deeply, and both of them only show their true selves to each other. Both have facades, don’t they? Nadja’s yelling and Laszlo’s disinterest. It’s not the sum of either of them, and both of them have wells of strength inside them that have gotten them this far.

(I’m… not entirely sure how Nandor made it, being honest with you. Maybe he’s just very, very good at choosing people to help him not die.)

Laszlo has a sort of inventive, flexible cunning that gets him out of his messes. He is an inveterate slitherer-outer and he can adapt himself to his misadventures with a sort of quicksilver wit that is both hilarious and kind of impressive. Nadja, on the other hand, simply has the deep-seated knowledge that everything that life has thrown at her hasn’t killed her yet — and she’s not about to let it happen now.

Laszlo may be great at working in the real world and grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat, but Nadja just hurls herself at problems knowing that — yeah, she’ll probably get bit a few times. But she can take it. She’ll burn that bridge when she gets to it, y’know?

So when I look at Nadja, I do see a sort of quiet strength layered beneath all that bluster. It’s not the yelling or the demanding or the heart-ripping. It’s the way she has risen staggering from the ashes more times than I can count. It’s the way she won’t let any setback get her down. It’s the way she’s constantly trying to find a way to twist misfortune to her favor.

It’s the way that she sometimes looks at a creature that’s small and soft and suffering and she sees herself — and instead of putting it out of its misery, she decides to help it.

That’s Nadja, isn’t it? Like the woman on the card, she’ll never shy away from fighting lions. But she only wants to subdue them. When it’s a person who’s weaker than her, she typically holds back on the killing blow. Even when she does kill someone (I’m looking at you, Mr. Master’s Degree) it’s only as a message — she kills one person so she doesn’t have to kill a whole room.

As odd as it is to say it… Guillermo is the character that will tear through an entire room and leave no one left alive. Guillermo is the one who can kill his own kind without feeling any guilt that he can’t stamp out.

Nadja, for all her posturing, is the kind to see a creature when it’s down and show mercy. And every time she does, it’s like she’s showing her younger, weaker self mercy as well.

And that’s why Nadja is Strength.

And Guillermo is Judgement.

Anyway, on to the imagery.

As I’ve mentioned a few times so far, the main imagery for Strength is a woman with her hands on a lion’s jaws, subduing it. This is not a violent card, though, but a compassionate one. She is subduing the lion, but is not trying to hurt it. She traditionally wears white to symbolize purity, and an infinity symbol is above her head to symbolize spiritual power.

Now… let’s get one thing straight. Nadja’s a lot of things, but “pure” is not a word I’d use — and that’s exactly how she likes it. So no white for her. Probably just her typical black, perhaps with streaks of blood. Her strength manifests in many ways.

For the creature itself, I really went back and forth on this one. Leave it a lion? Perhaps switch it out for a hellhound or werewolf? I even considered a wraith, though I’d prefer not to deny the humanity of a unionized worker. lmao

I suppose in the end a lion is still just fine. We all know that Nadja would fight a lion to get what she wants. Or maybe some as-yet unidentified fantasy beast. Maybe a creature will present itself in s5 that lends itself well to this card.

No matter what beast ends up on the card, I want Nadja wresting its jaws open and — yes, I think the little Nadja doll perched on its back like a tiny rider. Any flowers that she wears are starting to fall to the ground during the confrontation, but like her, while damaged they are still whole.

Feet flat on the ground and probably bitching, she still doesn’t want to hurt the creature — and the little doll that represents her inner thoughts is petting its mane.

wwdits tarot masterpost

#wwdits tarot #wwdits meta #wwdits #nadja of antipaxos