#originally supposed to be possessive scenarios

[kingdomhate]

They're Jealous Scenarios!

Han Solo: Maybe he was mistaken. He could've sworn he could see you speaking to one of the Resistance Pilots, a little smile cropped onto your gorgeous face. The same smile that you give him when he retorts with a snarky comment or a sardonic (playful) insult. And if that was correct, and he is 99.9% sure it is, why is it projected toward this bum?

With an adrenaline rush, he strides over to the pair of you, cutting your stupid conversation in two. Han's arm finds it's way to your upper back as he inserts himself into the interaction. He glares at the guy, his gaze too intense to match with that goofy grin on his face, which seems so out of place "I'm sure this is a lovely conversation, but we gotta go, bigger fish to fry. Don't we, sweetheart?" Then, he's tugging you away before you can reply. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to him.

The feeling that shot through him at the sight of you, so close to someone else, when you really did not need to be, it made his blood boil. "What kinda business do ya got with a guy like that, anyway?" Han's tone was firm, he really wanted to hear your answer. "None! I know that, it was just a conversation, Han." He scoffed and threw up his arms, almost defensively. "You just said it, none! You got no business talking to a bum like that! Come on, you're so much more than what you make yourself out to be, love." You frown but hug him anyways, sighing heavily.

Anakin Skywalker: He knew the feeling of jealousy well, too well. One might even call them friends and lovers. You, were his light, his angel, his sweetness. But he knew what was not what other guys saw in you, of course not, they saw you as something too low, a mere object. You were so much more, you had value, you had brightness, you shine, like the sun.

So when he could clearly see you being flirted with, flattered and random men in your vicinity, too close, and the clearly uncomfortable body language of yours, his mind went into husband mode, protectiveness, instinct to make you smile again, he moved over to the men. His gaze was like daggers, and threatening, those blue eyes that were the symbols of love, adoration, devotion and unspeakable, unwavering commitment to you, replaced by threats, searing jealousy and protection. He asked the men a simple question, "What do you think you're doing? Can't you see they are uncomfortable? Huh?" The men scrambled and spoke overlapping about their reasonings but Anakin couldn't hear more than, "We just wanted to show them a good time."

Within those few seconds, rage. All he could see was red. He used the force to send them flying back with ferocity. Once they hit a wall, he bent his fingers ever so slightly, force-choking them. But once you protested, he stopped. The men scurried off like mice. He turned back to you, seeing your face, no longer tainted by uncomfortability and now happiness, happiness because the guys were gone. "Thank you, Ani." He smiles, those pearly blue eyes melting into soft orbs of adorability. Oh, how, he loved you and it showed.

Kylo Ren: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren had faults. Flaws. Everyone knew that. To name a few: Anger issues, possessiveness and protection-issues and jealousy. He trained himself, he had such discipline and a higher goal to be like Vader that he always found himself being told off by you to slow down. Not work too hard.

You resemble to him, his mother. You carried such qualities of determination, hope, gentleness but a tendency to become firm if need be, and you always remained honest to him. Always.

However, that did not mean that everyone saw this in you. Frequently a group of women or men would hit on you, and it always ended in a fight. Because someone said something biting to him or you, and Kylo lost it. He always promised to you that he couldn't help it, and you knew this. The situation now with one of your higher ranking officials was getting out of hand and you were solving it, your own way. And you knew if Kylo had seen, it would become worse and violent.

The officer of yours seemed to not be getting the hint from your calm and collected words and you felt the anger boil in your blood and the officer said something insensitive and in a blinding flash, something black soared past you and knocked down the officer to the floor like a bowling ball hitting pins. It happened so fast, the officer couldn't even let out a scream, or a yelp. And when the moment past and your mind caught up to the situation, it was Kylo. You were frozen, and did not react immediately but when you did, Kylo was heaving, the officer's face was like something a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but you scrambled to take Kylo away before the officer was dead. You called a medic and ran away. You did not even have to ask him what the hell that was, he was already talking.

"I can't believe the disrespect and vulgar language you get. They are tools, but they think that they are have potential to be more. My love, you're no object, you know? Not for anyone's pathetic usage, you're a person, and you're mine. My love, my beauty and my life. Always." He says before capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, with an underlying tenderness.

.

.

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#star wars #fluff #han solo #han solo x you #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #my scenarios! #thoughts #hope you enjoy #originally supposed to be possessive scenarios #guess that's next then

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion POV #gale dekarios #bloodweave more like beefwave #archmage of waterdeep as a washing machine #the narrator may be somewhat unreliable #reflections on author's own inventory management

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | One | myg (m)

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

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

☾ Word Count: 21,606

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

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

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

☾ Published: July 9, 2023

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

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

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

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Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve

Change like a season

-

It begins with rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, it will suffice. 

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

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

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

“Just for a short walk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would that be like, you wonder. 

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

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

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

So you stopped praying to them. 

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

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

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

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

Always something lost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another dream. Another fantasy. 

-

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

-

It ends in darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… what?”

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

No. No. Nonononononono. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It is not my purpose!”

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

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

“I won’t do it,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking ungrateful,” he barks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to die. 

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

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

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

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

“Want?”

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

“What can you give?”

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

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

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

“What will you give me?”

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

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

“My time?”

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

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

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

“Then tell me you accept.”

You take a deep breath. “I accept.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The smallest viper has the greatest sting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is safe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A god. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In between.”

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

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

“A… dimension?”

“Exactly. This is my domain.”

“And what… are you?”

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

“Wanted to hear you say it.” 

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

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

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

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

“Because you asked.”

“You didn’t have to, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do I call you?”

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

“Is that your name?” 

“It’s one of them.” 

“How many names do you have?”

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

Time. 

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

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

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

“I did.”

“My freedom in exchange for my time.”

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

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

“I’m done eating.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was going to kill me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Consecutive.” 

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

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

“Can you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

Here is where you find peace. Where you dream. 

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

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

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Do you promise?” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad is a relative term.” 

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

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

“Are you not coming along?”

“I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not give tours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pfft. Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” 

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

“Eternals?”

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

“Who are the Eternals?”

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

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

“Yoongi is an Eternal?”

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

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

“Have you no guesses?”

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

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

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

“He isn’t of dreams. He is Dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What causes the balance to be off?” 

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

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

“I don’t know what that’s like.”

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

“How… old are you?”

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

“Where do you come from?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know the woods outside of my home?”

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

“Your brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are dragons here?” 

“There is everything here.”

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

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

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

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

“Even nightmares?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Are they dead?”

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

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

“They?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re all alone here?”

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

“Do you always know what I dream about?” 

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

“Can you see everyone’s dreams?”

“Mhmm. I even make some.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t show me the dream tower.”

“I’ll show you when you’re ready.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat quickens. “Do you mean that?”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nervous that I’m not performing well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you avoid thinking of going back.

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

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

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

“How?”

“It’s… difficult to say.” 

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

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

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

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

You dip the quill in ink and continue. 

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

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

“Ugh, I’m tired of eating alone.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Promise, the wind feels nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it?” 

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

“You like sweet things.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not very mature then, is she?”

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

“And you let her be a glutton.” 

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

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

“Do you want to be?”

“What?”

His mouth twitches. “Indulgent.”

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

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

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

“I don’t know. How could I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re staring,” he says eventually. 

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

“What is there to indulge in?” 

“Your… earrings.” 

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

“Yes. Very shiny. Very dangly.”

“Shiny and dangly?”

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

“Would you like some earrings?”

“My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Well then we’ll pierce them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you afraid to go back?” 

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

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

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

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

“That sounds like a lovely job.”

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

You nod. “Okay.” 

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, your mother screams in sheer terror. 

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

#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

[azrielbrainrot]

SFW Alphabet with Azriel

note: I've seen a lot of people from a lot of fandoms do this so I have no idea who made the original prompts. Let me know if you do so i can tag them!

also I don't know what this is, just wanted to write down my thoughts

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I think Azzie is really affectionate but mostly in private. I see him always gravitating around you and giving you small soft touches when you're in front of the ic or other people but then being clingy as hell when you're alone. This man is touch starved, he needs to catch up.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think you'd have to fist fight Cass for the title but he would be the best friend ever. I mean he's been nothing but soft and helpful with all of his friends. After you get past his millions of trust issues, Az is probably really easy to befriend. It might take a while for you to get to bestfriend but i don't think it would be hard.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He demands cuddles every night. I can see him being the little spoon as often as he's the big spoon, depends on what he's feeling up to that day.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think that's all he wants at this point and he's probably such a good cook.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd probably be really firm but also really nice about it which would actually make it hurt infinitely worse. I can see him literally going down a list of your qualities and telling you how truly amazing you are while breaking up with you. He'd make sure you were semi alright before leaving as well but still make sure you knew this was final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Well he craves commitment but he also has been running from it for over 500 years so I think it's a complicated feeling. I think he wants commitment more than anything but is also a tiny bit afraid of it and he only wants it with the right person.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's so gentle I could cry. He's been waiting all his life for someone to love and he will treat you with the most care possible both emotionally and physically.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don't see Az being that much of a hugger but he probably gives the best hugs. Both arms (and wings) wrapped around you and face buried in your neck or in your hair type of hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I'm not sure he's ever said it to someone romantically (probably hasn't said it too many times platonically either) so it would probably take a while. He'd want to make sure it will really work out before saying it. You'd probably have to say it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I know this is supposed to be sfw but he probably ties you up with his shadows and fucks you within an inch of your life. I don't think he'd be getting jealous all that often (excluding the typical mate possessiveness) but he'd still fuck you extra hard just to make sure. Besides that I think he could actually feel really hurt by it if it's a more serious scenario like imagine you've been hanging out with someone a lot and he starts to feel excluded. In that case I think his abandonment issues would resurface and you'd have to remind him how much you love him and how silly it would be to even entertain the idea of wanting someone else.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He gives the best kisses and I will not take any criticism on this. Like soul consuming type of kisses. Not only does he have 500 years of practice but even when he was young I just know he made sure to perfect it because he can't do anything half assed. His shadows might even give him little tips

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has such a calming presence that I just know kids love him. And his shadows probably give him brownie points. He's probably awkward at first though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Well he trains at the crack of dawn so you'd probably wake up to an empty bed :/ but he'd always kiss your cheek before leaving even if you're unaware. Might even leave you little notes on your nightstand sometimes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Reading in bed together. Cuddling covered in his shadows, completely hidden away from the rest of the world. Tucked away and watching over everyone at parties with the rest of the inner circle. Flying over velaris when his insomnia gets the best of him. Cute picnic dates in an isolated place somewhere only the two of you know. (I didn't wanna say fucking because this is sfw but let's be honest). I think every night with Azriel would make you fall in love with him all over again.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take time for Azriel to really open up and I definitely think he'd go bit by bit.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think he tries to be as patient as possible but let's not forget he almost killed Eris and was the first to speak up when Tamlin was insulting Feyre. He's probably really patient normally, especially with his partner and family, but when he gets angry I think it boils over quickly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything about you to the point you suspect he has a journal with every little detail.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Is it too cheesy to say he cherishes every moment he's had with you? He definitely cherishes just having you there in the moments he felt lonely before. Like coming home from a mission and instead of an empty room you're right there waiting for him, probably staying up to see him even when he tells you it's not necessary. When he has nightmares and you're right there comforting him and kissing his tears away. At family dinners when he doesn't have to feel jealous of his brothers and just reaches out and kisses your hand making you smile at him and have him thank the Mother for the thousandth time for gifting him the blessing of a mate as lovely as you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's really protective. Probably keeps some of his shadows around you to make sure you're alright at all times. But I think he also wants to feel protected since he had so many times when no one was protecting him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would go above and beyond every time. Always searching for new restaurants that cook your favorite foods or picnic spots that would take your breath away. He would give you the most thoughtful gifts too, things you barely remember mentioning. He'd give you these gifts out of nowhere too. He'd spoil you rotten really.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I don't see him being great at communicating. If he feels hurt by something i think he'd pull back instead of addressing it. I feel like he has some passive aggressiveness in him as well.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think Azzie is as nonchalant about his looks as he appears to be. He's not as concerned as Rhys but I don't think he's that far off either.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes which makes me a bit sad.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Azriel pets and feeds stray cats and you can't convince me otherwise. He's also the top benefactor of every shelter in the night court.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People that aren't open minded.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Not sleeping. jk He loves sleeping on his stomach with his face buried in your neck or chest and will literally purr if you pet his hair. I think he'd pull you to him unconsciously as well.

#azriel headcanons #acotar headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fic

[bump1nthen1ght]

Made For Love (Incubus x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Sex worker!Incubus x GN!Reader

Warnings: Explicit content ahead! (18+ ONLY), Loss of Virginity, Spanking, Unsafe Sex (wrap it before you tap it folks)

Word Count: 2098 words

Summary: Sick and tired of waiting, you decide you’re ready to finally lose your virginity. Lucky for you, a friend of yours has a tantalizing suggestion on how to do so…

A/N: Ok so this was ORIGINALLY supposed to be a short drabble ( <1000 words) for Kinktober, but as y’all can tell I went into a writing frenzy and it became a full fic. Please forgive any typos, as the horniest muse ever possessed me as I typed and edited this and I’m too impatient not to post it lol. Hope y’all enjoy!

(P.S. Sex Work is Work and all sex workers deserve to be treated with respect. Do not necessarily take this fic as a completely accurate depiction of how sex work is performed. Nevertheless, enjoy some sweetness)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

The motel room you find yourself in is surpisingly homely. The flickering overheads have been turned off and replaced by soft lavender fairy lights strung around the bed frame. Cheap and stiff blankets have been neatly folded and put away in the closet, the bed now decorated with a big fluffy duvet and several plush pillows. Some candles have been lit and placed on the nearby desk.

“It's Joranez, right? Want to make sure I’m saying that correctly.”

“That’s right, but you can call me Jora, darling.” He winks, taking hold of both your hands, holding them to his chest. The action isn’t very intimate, but it can’t help but send a hot blush across your face. Jora is stunningly attractive, his silken hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His purple skin is flawless, shiny just like his horns, which curl and twist upwards. His smile is charming, sharp canines seeming so friendly despite everything.

“Is this okay?” Jora whispers, rubbing a thumb across the back of your palm. You nod, letting your fingers unfurl and touch the bare skin of his chest. “Do you remember the safe words, the ones in the email?”

“Y- yes. Lime for go, strawberry for stop.” You take a deep breath. “A-and banana for slow down.”

A clawed hand runs across your cheek, goosebumps running down yiur heck as Jora draws even closer. His breath brushes across your face, his yellow eyes glowing in the low light. Even though he’s a stranger, you can’t help but feel very safe.

“Good pet. Now, shall we get started?”

—

Jora had been recommended to you by a mutual friend, one of your best friends actually; Rory. She worked nights at a sex hotline and Jora often took shifts there during the drier months of the year. From what she had told you he was highly requested and had great reviews, known for perfectly crafting whatever mood or scenario his customers wanted. You had asked if it would be weird, sleeping with someone she knows so personally, but Rory had quickly quieted your fears. If anything it was better, as she knew you’d be in great hands and she was often quite protective.

So Rory gave you his work number and you scheduled the appointment to lose your virginity.

Given how you’re feeling right now, you think you made the right decision.

“You make such beautiful noises, dear.” Jora whispers in your ear, his long tongue licking up your trembling neck. “I’d love to hear more.”

He gets his wish, a moany breath leaving as he scissors his fingers inside of you, pads pressing hard on your outer walls. He chuckles, a warm sound that only makes your body hotter.

How easily he was able to undo you. You lay naked in his lap, legs spread wide and chest heaving with each breath. Sweat drips down your collarbone and your skin feels on fire, every soft touch and caress leaving tingles across your body. The duvet provides just enough purchase for you to dig your fingers into, still too shy to yank on Jora’s open robe.

The pleasant ache as Jora stretches you open on his finger was far better than you imagined, probably far better than some random hookup would have provided you. Starting with one, now two, he’s somehow slowly unraveled your senses. Now you sit as a putty ball of pleasure in his lap, all for him to treat.

Guess I’m a sub. You joke in your head, though you already had a suspicion before this. Or maybe Jora is just such a master of control that anyone falls to their knees in front of him. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“How about three?” Jora whispers in your ear, waiting for your timid nod before sinking a third finger inside you. He splays them out, stretching out your walls before resuming to thrust. Black and white spots speckle behind your eyelids, that burn in your gut only growing hotter. “So good pet, you’re doing fantastic.” Jora plants a soft peck on your temple, his free hand rubbing affectionate circles into your hips. Said hips jerk and spasm on his digits, desperate for more.

“I t-think…” You whimper, somehow still shy as this incubus is literally inside of you. “I think I’m ready for you c-cock.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jora teases, flexing his fingers again. “I think so too, lovely.”

Jora is slow and methodical as he pulls his fingers out of you, gently coaxing your hips to flip you around. Your shaky legs straddle his lap, Jora giving another gentle kiss to your lips. He grinds against you, getting a squeak and a shiver.

Jora begins to sit up, pushing you onto your back and adjusting for missionary position, but you stop him with hand to his chest.

“Actually, could we do Doggy style?” You request, somehow not stuttering your way through it.

Jora’s eyes widen, but its accompanied by a delighted smirk.

“Of course.”

With another gentle press to your hips, Jora flips you onto your stomach. A strong palm smoothes down your lower back, arching it into his hips as he adjusts himself. You can hear the sound of the lube bottle as Jora gets more, rubbing it over your entrance. A heated presence presses up against your hole, throbbing and slick. Even without seeing it, you can tell Jora is quite well endowed.

“Tell me if it hurts to much, okay dearie?”

You give a simple “uh-huh.”, trying to decide if you want to shove your face in the covers or stare into the void of the motel room.

Your brain decides for you, biting your lip and clenching your eyes when Jora finally begins to slide in you.

It doesn’t hurt, thank goodness, but it is a little…unusual. It’s a fullness where you didn’t even realize there was emptiness. As Jora goes further, you get the stretch in places you've never reached before, not with fingers or even a dildo. The unexplored is extra sensitive, your hips spasming as Jora eventually bottoms out inside you. He swivels his hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that feels amazing.

A clawed hand rubs your scalp, reaching down to pat your cheek. You can feel Jora’s body heat as he leans his chest closer, his robe rolled down his shoulders to expose his bare skin. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You mutter, digging your face half into the covers. The noises bubbling in your throat are so whiny, so debauched, you can’t help but try to tamp them down. “You can m-move. Slowly.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jora sits up, grabbing gently onto the fat of your hips. The bed shifts as he pulls out halfway, before gently thrusting upward. You gasp, a strange sensation shooting up your stomach. Jora chuckles, pulling back slowly again. That emptiness feels wrong now, it feels incomplete.

“Faster, p-please.”

Jora must nod, though you didn't see it. His fingers dig into your sides, not enough to even leave a mark, and he begins humping in earnest.

Those noises you tried to suppress become impossibly loud, even in shaky breaths and moans. Bed springs squeak underneath you, the slap of Jora’s hips against yours sending a hot sensation down your legs. It's so lewd, but it feels so right.

“You feel amazing.” Jora moans. “Such a tight hole, all for me.” Jora speeds up a bit, met with your eager hips throwing backwards on his cock. “And a pretty face on top.”

All you can do is bite your lip, feeling a hit blush as Jora lavishes you with compliments. His pelvis pounds against your ass, toned muscle meeting the plush flesh. Jora begins to fondle the fat, giving it a light pat, holding back for your sake.

“Please slap my ass.” You whine, getting an extra eager thrust from Jora in response. You can’t see it, but you’re sure he’s smirking.

“You’re wish is my command.”

Jora’s palm meets the skin with a resounding slap, enough to jiggle your cheeks and surely to leave a mark, but you doubt it’s as hard as he can go.

“H-harder, please.”

Jora hums, rubbing the spot he just hit.

“Surprisingly naughty, aren’t you?” This time Jora reels back his hand and gives you a proper spank, enough to send your lower half forward. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but you didn’t realize how good the stinging could feel. “I love it, you want some more?” Jora gyrates his hips, pressing his cockhead to the very deepest parts of you.

“Yes, yes!” You barely reocgnize your voice, keening and desperate. The moans as Jora slaps your ass again are depraved, downright erotic. He switches hands and slaps your other ass cheek, taking a moment to squeeze and fondle the fat afterwards. He begins to alternate his slaps, using the other hand to hold onto your hips and yank you back onto his cock. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he’s picked up the pace, each thrust reaching your guts at a quick speed. You can hear the slap of Jora’s balls as they hit your underside.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Jora purrs, voice so composed you wouldn’t even realize’s he’s blowing your back out. “Don’t you want to see yourself?”

Jora must see your brows furrow, cause he leans down and tilts your jaw forward. “Look up, dear.”

Opening your hazy eyes, you notice a full-length mirror in front of you both. It hadn’t been there before, or so your cock-drunk mind remembers, and you wonder if Jora had moved it in place with some minor magic. He was an incubus, after all.

But those thoughts come second to seeing how unraveled your look. Your face is flushed, sweat beading on your forehead. Your back is so arched you can see the way your ass jiggles with every thrust. Not to mention Jora, whose pony is slowly coming undone, looking like a literal Adonis. His sultry gaze burns in to you, toned chest and abs flexing with his humps. He had been so sweet at the beginning, but it seems your naughtiness has drawn out his mischievous side; He wears a big smirk, biting his lip and admiring the naughty picture you make in the mirror.

“See? Just as I told you-” Jora gives a particularly hard thrust and stars shoot across your vision, “-gorgeous.”

Your entire lower half feels lit up, a faint buzz going all the way down to your toes as your abdomen grows tighter and tighter. It’s so similar yet so different from when you’ve masturbated before. The coming climax feels hotter, more explosive, like a high you’ve only dreamed about.

Jora can tell, either with his specially-tuned senses or by the way your hole clenches. “Close, love?”

All you can do is nod, tongue lolled out with a mind too far gone. You’re thankful Jora had the wherewithall to ask where you’d like him to come at the start, as you have no way of giving an answer now.

“That's right, cum for me. I want to see you.”

That’s all it takes, the knot splitting in an instant as you come with Jora’s cock deep inside you. You can see him clench his eyes shut as your hole milks him, just pulling out in time to cum all over your back.

The next few minutes are a bit hazy. Your legs had collapsed under you, your brain thoroughly cock drunk and trying to reboot. Jora, ever the professional, quickly recuperated. He rubbed soft circles into your lower back, leaning over to get some cleaning wipes. You vaguely remember him flipping you onto your back, tilting your chin up and giving you some water. The sensation of the back of his knuckles, brushing along the side of your face comes to mind as you sipped.

“Good dearie.” Jora gives you a peck in the cheek. “You did so well, love. I’m happy I was able to share this with you.”

Jora is sweet and leta you take plenty of time to rest and come back to yourself, giving you another kiss and his card on your way out.

“If you ever want to be naughty again, love.”

You walked out with a tired yet enthusiastic pep in your step.

You definitely owe Rory one.

#my writing #reader insert #gender neutral insert #monster x reader #incubus x reader #monster romance

[hanafubukki]

Twst Playful Land Scenarios with OT3 [Knight of Dawn x Reader x Lilia Vanrouge]:

Dawn and Lilia being controlled and forced to fight.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not this, not again.

You watched as Lilia and Dawn clashed swords. They weren’t in their right minds.

Like marionettes, their actions weren’t their own.

As if possessed, their eyes reflected none of the emotions you adored.

“No! Please!”

Your scream was met with laughter as the sound of swords continued to clash.

“Poor thing, you should have just played along. But you didn’t, did you? Had to stick your nose in where it wasn’t supposed to, now look what you’ve done. Watching those you Iove fight each other.”

You saw red.

It was all a game to him.

You took a deep breath.

I’ve stopped this once before. I’ll do it again.

And then…

Then you’re going after Honest Fellow.

YN being controlled and forced to fight them.

Lilia jumped away, missing the sword aimed at his head.

“YN, stop!”

You blankly stare back at them. Your body controlled like a puppet.

The NRC students were restricted in how they could free you.

If they tried using magic against you or Fellow, he would have you pointing your sword at your throat.

“Look at your faces! You all are weak when it comes to this one huh? How revolting. Allowing one person such power over you.”

Fellow gestured and you moved.

Dawn blocked the blow aimed at Ace, “YN! Beloved! Snap out of it!”

YN jumped back swiftly, like a lifeless doll pulled back but it’s owner.

“Ah ah ah, it’s not that easy. You should worry about yourself. You never know when you might end up at the end of their blade. Just like Mr. Asim right here.”

YN flew towards Kalim, easily bypassing Cater, sword aimed at his chest.

Kalim froze, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain.

“YN! Kalim!”

Kalim opened his eyes, only to see you.

You had grabbed the blade with your other hand, blood dripping to the floor.

“Please…stop…me…”

There was light in your eyes before the magic binds pulled you back.

“Hm~ Seems my toy needs some tinkering~”

Lilia and Dawn watched as your fearful eyes became clouded once again, watched as blood dripped from your hand.

Blood had been spilt, your blood.

Fellow tilted your head towards him.

“Though I’m starting to see why you all care so much for this one, their-”

“SHAAAAA!”

Most of the room jumped as the foreign sound bounced off the walls, heads swerving towards its’ origins.

The aura Lilia gave off had all but Dawn stepping back from him, even the look on Dawn’s face sent feelings of terror to the rooms’ inhabitants.

“Everyone stand back.”

“We will handle this.”

Everyone watched as the General and Knight walked towards Fellow, their steps that of predators.

Ready to maul and protect what is theirs.

YN bound and hanging by ribbons:

Dawn couldn’t help but wonder, was it the peace and happiness he felt that led to this?

You hung high above them, delicate ribbons keeping you from falling.

He had let his guard down, and you suffered for it.

You were taken from them.

How could he let someone he loved so dearly come into danger?

“Dawn.”

The hand at his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts.

He turned to see Lilia, whose eyes reflected the same emotions his held: worry, frustration, and anger.

“Let’s rescue YN, we can deal with him after.”

Dawn clasped the hand on his shoulder, nodded, before turning back to you.

They would rescue you, and then Honest Fellow would wish he never incurred the wrath of the Sun and Moon.

It’s done 🥳��� I’m so happy I could finish these scenarios before the next twst playful land update.

I wanted to play around with perspective a bit so that was really fun to do with the various scenarios. ☺️💚

#twst knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge #twst playful land #fellow honest #twst fellow honest #twst ferro honest #twst the stage in playful land the dancing puppets and the fabled amusement park #other twst characters mentioned #twst knight of dawn x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

[factual-fantasy]

24 asks :0000 🦠🍤

@minnesotamedic186 (Post being referenced)

Not too long ago actually! And I made 7 of them! :DD

Here's my favorite/most polished post of them. But if you search up "kirby ocs" in my blogs search bar you should find most of my art of them! :}}

That's a good question.. originally I intended that she was her robe. There was gonna be a thing where Spamton stepped on her robe and she yelped in pain.

Or something where they get in a fight and River person is struck. There's a gash on her robe and it later scars.. like its skin.

But since then I've gone back and fourth. Imagining her as this shadowy creature that needs some kind of cloth in order to manifest. Kind'a like possessing her robe..? So if you took the hood off there would be no head but she's still there?? I haven't thought it through yet <XD

@housome (Post in question)

SKJAOKJF "oh and the bunny too i guess" GEE I WONDER WHO YOUR FAVORITE IS XDD

And yes! The post that goes up right after this ask post will have them in it! :}}}

ALSO THANK YOU! :DDD I'll be sure to take breaks! <XD

WAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭💖😭

Oof, that's a good question. Uhhh... I'm gonna say Sans

(XD jk its probably Seam)

He might not wound or scare Seam just to make him stretch the stiches. He would do it for other reasons-

But telling him to speak louder or more clearly? Despite the pain it causes? Oh 100% Spade king would do that. :(

aaaa I'm sorry, I haven't seen the movie yet. So I'm not sure what they'd think <:0

Is that from the Puss and Boots movie? I haven't heard it yet :0

He looks an awful lot like a regular wolf. I can see them thinking that Death is just lost in the everglades and would offer to help him 🥺

AWWEE!! THIS IS SO SWEET THANK YOU!! 😭💖😭 I'M HONORED THAT MY ARTWORK MEANS SO MUCH TO YOU!!

I hope things get better for you,, Until then at least I hope my art continues to make you feel better <:} 💖💖

I'm not sure.. I imagine that they have a list of activities that they can suggest to patrons and if they deny all of them well.. 🤷‍♂️ They'd probably just hope the kid can find something fun to do..

Glamrock Bonnie: "Same dude. Same."

Oh yeah! I can kind'a see it XD

@beryl-shade

I've never played that game,, so I'm not sure :0

But judging by the desert looking environment.? They'd turn right around and jump through another mirror <XD THEY NEED FOOD!

@bailey-dreamfoot

WAAA THANK YOU!! Also I hope you have fun in all your Pokémon adventures! :DD

@citrusfruitman

XD Don't worry its okay! Also I've heard of OMORI, but I can't say I've heard of Dialtown :0

Wow, I made that fic way back in 2019. Sadly I can't say I remember my thought process behind that. Looking back that kind'a sounds like a plot hole-

Also you were the one who had the idea for a crab comic re-write? :0 Neato! I suppose its always possible that I'll come back to it someday <XD

The main reason why Jevil cares for everyone so much is.. well, its becuase they're his friends. And he loves them.🥺 But the years of isolation would definitely play a role in his protectiveness. And I'm sure Jevil isn't comfortable going anywhere or doing anything alone..

(ALSO WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!💖💖💖)

Theoretically other people could learn the power yeah, but they would have to go through the very specific scenario that Jevil went through and have the same reaction to it that he did in order to learn how. Its not something he can really teach to others..

He was told about a way to escape this world. And after 10 years in confinement and nearly loosing all of his sanity.. he used the power in his very soul to rip through the wall of his world and escape.

If the roles were reversed and Seam went through all that, I cant say that he would have learned how to make the mirrors.. He might have just succumbed to the depression and insanity..

I suppose its possible..? But I don't think Bonnie would be willing to go that far to escape from the stress of everything. He does get breaks at night so..

@kautar-21

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Also I don't think I ever posted a coherent storyline for Bill fragment.. but if you search "bill fragment au" in my blogs search bar you should find most of it! :0

(also sorry, I don't take requests <XD -- )

@redzephyr05

I think that sounds about right, yeah. Being more monotone and harder to read maybe. I'm not sure how he'd act in the costume,, maybe more confident? Louder and more blood thirsty?? <:DD

And yes! Little Vanessa is definitely more hesitant and nervous than Gregory. She's shy and afraid of everything- but still curious none the less.. 👀

@nevereatingpeas

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD

Ultimately my thoughts are, "It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be/could have been. 6 outa 10, would watch again and recommend to my friends 🎤🐻👍"

(post in question)

XD she feels safe around Seam and he is also very soft and cozy 🥺

#my response #fnaf security breach #octonauts #undertale #deltarune #jevil and seam #jevil #seam deltarune #kirby ocs #river person

[yanderes-galore]

I have a request. A scenario where romantic yandere Master Chief becomes self aware and realizes he's in an video game. Though now he desperately wants to be with the reader.

Sure! This fic has two parts so this part will be a bit of a set up to the actual yandere behavior of Chief in part 2 (Hopefully).

I tried to make it make sense yet I still struggle with Self-Aware characters, lol 😅

Bigger Picture - Part 1

Yandere! Self-Aware! Master Chief Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Self-Aware game character, This is mostly set up, Slight obsession at first sight, Dubious relationship, Slight possessive themes implied, Possible OOC Master Chief.

The Master Chief has always been the best of the best of the best. People assumed he became who he is through hard effort and training. John was just naturally great.

But humanity's greatest hero had gotten help.

Was it Cortana who helped him through it all? Perhaps Blue Team? Maybe even the Arbiter, Thel?

While they have helped his journey, that was not the only help he got.

Master Chief, John, had gotten outside help. Help beyond his comprehension. This help was not Forerunner in nature, they were human.

They were you.

The Master Chief had been guided by you through his journey. He had fought through the Covenant, The Flood, and the Prometheans all with you. You were a presence who was meant to be Chief's other half.

You were also how John had realized his life was a lot smaller than he thought.

You see, like an AI, John's life is fabricated. All of these missions, all these lives he sought to protect, it all felt real. To him, it felt very real and important.

Then when he defeated the Didact and Cortana warped him to a new plane, Chief saw something. Before he saw Cortana again, he was a screen. He saw you, a device in hand.

Originally these images confused John. Who was it that he saw? Why did he feel... comfort.

When asking Cortana or any other part of the UNSC about it, they assumed he had brain damage. His scans showed he was fine, however. No one else knew about the figure he saw.

It would take a long time before Chief understood. To him it felt like forever, it was probably nothing to you. It was then he knew the truth...

He's fake. It's all fake. His life is only able to exist because of one presence, yours.

You were the only thing that made him relevant. Not only did you guide him, you controlled him. It took Cortana saving him after the Didact for him to understand.

This information cursed his mind.

John was no more a construct than Cortana, was he? He feels like he wasn't supposed to know this. He wasn't supposed to know about you.

Now John wanted to know more. For now he'd focus on his missions, yet he was always looking for a way to see you again. He wasn't sure what exactly made him want to free himself of your control, but it was a new goal.

John began to find himself fascinated by Forerunner technology much more than before. He wonders if this way he can find a way to you. The thought of learning the truth about you is what now drove him.

While you were simply playing your favorite game, you had no idea of what was going on. You had no idea that John was sentient. You had no clue what went on when the game was off

You were completely oblivious to John's desperate scour for the truth of his existence.

In fact you would have no idea what was going on until it's too late.

John began to fall for the idea of meeting you. Romantic attraction didn't occur in his mind, in fact it wouldn't until much later. All he knew was he needed to find a way to meet you. Even if it went against the mission.

The closest John got to seeing you was small glimpses. Occasionally he'd "hallucinate" and see you again in front of a screen. He began to grow attached to your guiding presence, yearning to learn more.

He didn't know your name, why he was seeing you, and why he needed to know this all now. Was there a reason? Did YOU choose for him to know?

Was he meant to see any of this?

John's search for information began to degrade his mind. He wasn't meant to know any of this. It wasn't in his code.

But as he continued, soon he became more than an avatar for some code in a game. Soon, he became more and more real as he grew more sentient. It builds up and up... until...

He finds a way.

By what appears to be by accident, Chief stumbles through a wall.

It was unintentional, it even scares the unshakable Master Chief for a moment. He... was in an entirely new place. One that look very green and... binary.

It was like looking inside of an AI. The scenery unnerved John as he explored. Was this also something he was meant to discover?

Then he finds it.

Amidst the darkness surrounded by green lights, he sees a screen. A screen that shows the person he's been looking for. He feels... relieved.

It's you.

That controller-like device of yours sits down on on a desk. Meanwhile you're looking through a bookcase. John doesn't realize he's drifted closer, reaching his hand out.

You looked so peaceful. A human who's not surrounded by intergalactic war. It's a feeling he's not very used to.

He stretches his arm out to the screen towards you. You've been tormenting his mind for so long. Now... he can finally know the truth.

When he sees you... his mind thinks of one thing.

You're his guardian... his guide... you're his.

He presses against the screen, visor not looking away from you... and he falls through.

#yandere halo #yandere master chief #yandere john 117 #yandere self aware au

[thecomfywriter]

Writing Likable Characters

Hey y’all! How is everyone? It’s your girl, @thecomfywriter, back after… a long time. Let’s not talk about it lol I have no excuses and you’re not here for life updates. Anyhow, I’m back! And today’s topic is a doozy, not because it’s complicated, but because for some reason, it’s unnecessarily difficult to actually make a character likeable and worth rooting for. Considering most stories want readers to emotionally invest themselves into their characters and like them— well, we see the issue, don’t we?

In this post, we’ll explore the fundamentals of character development, why it's important to create likeable characters, and how to create characters readers can emotionally invest in. There’s a great benefit to creating characters readers actually care about, whether they’re protagonists, side characters, or even (shh….) the antagonists. So without further ado, let’s get into it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topic Overview: 

1.0 Why Have Likeable Characters?

2.0 The Common Characteristics

NEXT POST: Is it possible to create an unlikable character worth emotionally investing in? 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

1.0 Why Have Likeable Characters? 

It seems obvious, but once you break down the purpose of a likeable character, it becomes easier to identify the fundamental characteristics and traits that most likeable characters possess. 

Suppose you go to a dinner party with your friends one night. There, you meet a variety of new people. ‘A’ is a tall brunette, with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. ‘B’ is a short and plump woman, with curly blonde hair and the occasional grey streak in between. ‘C’ is a scrawny man with a long face, a crooked nose, and a bow-legged stance. And ‘D’ is a blue eyed man with spiky green hair, tattoos all up his arms, and a silver septum piercing in his nose. Now, I’m going to ask you: ‘Who of these four people do you like ?’ 

Pretty freakin’ hard to answer, huh? 

Now suppose I gave you the same scenario, but I tweaked it just a smidge. You go to a dinner party where you meet a variety of people. ‘A’ is a talkative woman who only stops to take a deep breath and inhale a gulp of her red wine. She is loose and flamboyant while she talks endlessly about the various adventures she’s been on during her time off as a travel nurse. But while her extravagant storytelling is more than entertaining, you find it difficult to get a single word in when talking to her because somehow, the conversation always steers back to herself. 

Meanwhile, ‘B’ is a preppy and bubbly woman who works as an elementary school teacher, but you never really discovered that until the end of the conversation, when your mutual friend asks her how ‘the kids’ are, and the origin behind her soft-spoken tone and expressive eyes clicks in place. Your conversations together mainly center around your mutual love for animals— her with her dogs and you with your cats. Though she overapologizes and tends to be a bit more passive with all other topics of parley, the conversation is otherwise lighthearted. She is the first person to leave, however, cutting your time together short when she realizes the time and suddenly her dark circles seem to get darker. She is the one to redirect you to ‘C’, who is a professor at a prestigious university in a neighboring town. He looks quite formal and acts even moreso when he offers to shake your hand and requests the full length of your name and background. 

As a complete contrast to ‘B’, ‘C’ is entirely reclusive and apathetic— outwardly, that is. There is an aire of stiffness around him, with his tall posture and unintentionally impressive vocabulary. Your conversations deviate from topic to topic, never dwelling too long on one discussion but always exploring it to a level of depth that surprises you. Whatever point you make, ‘C’ presents a counterargument, and what could have started as a regularly subjective opinion transforms into an interesting delve into the nature of peaceful arguments. While the conversation is more than cordial and definitely leaves you feeling a bit more intelligent and curious than before you met him, you can’t help but notice the lack of impression or reaction from ‘C’ whenever you spoke. It is only when ‘D’ swings around and introduces himself to you that you feel more assured, as he informs you that everyone who talks to ‘C’ leaves the conversation feeling a bit judged. 

‘D’, you discover, is a freelance photographer who asks you if you would like a photo of you and your friends. You end up talking about his photography career, looking through his portfolio with awe— he is remarkably skilled and filled with a plethora of experience. Like your conversation with ‘B’, the tone is lighthearted, but this time, a banter is exchanged between yourself and the extremely witty ‘D’. His little quips are sassy, occasionally sarcastic but the follow-up laugh and pat of the shoulder relieves you from taking anything too seriously. While ‘A’ was entertaining, ‘D’ has a sense of humour that wonderfully matches your own. He is touchy, with every joke he makes being paired with some form of physical contact, but you discover he is like that with everyone as he expands the conversation to the entire dinner party circle. Occasionally, when his joke doesn’t land, he’ll do an awkward chuckle and make a self-deprecating comment to release the tension. But the tension never really dissipates when he makes jokes about his ex. Nevertheless, his smile is bright and his body language is always oriented towards the person he is talking to. You can’t help but feel properly heard when talking to him. The eye contact is unwavering and his every response is a testament that he was genuinely listening. 

Now, if I asked you— who of the four do you like? Is it a bit easier to respond?

The difference between the two is a bit obvious (intentionally, to make things a bit clearer). The amount of substance allotted to each character increased with the second scenario. While the descriptions of the characters in the first example were confined to their appearance, the second scenario offered interactive exchanges with each character that allows you as the reader to fully imagine this person, even without the physical descriptors, and visualize the interaction with them beyond a surface level. In short, the first scenario gave you caricatures; the second scenario gave you people. 

Why do I give you this very obvious statement? Because the more you think of your characters as characters to be liked or disliked, as opposed to the actions and interactions they have with their peers (in story) and their audience (the readers), the more shallow they will seem and the harder it will be for readers to connect to them, much less emotionally invest in them. 

If you want to create profound characters, expose your characters to scenarios that showcase their interactions with that environment and the people in that environment. Allow the readers to feel like the character is someone they know in their life, someone they can relate to or envision, whether it be themselves, their mother, or their chatterbox coworker from HR. 

Real characters evoke real emotions. 

—-

2.0 The Common Characteristics 

Before we get into a general list of likeable characteristics, let's highlight two terms and define them to differentiate them. Introducing… charm and charisma! Similar, but not the same. 

Charm: this is your golden ticket, and also the hardest to nail. Charm is essentially the presence a person carries, and how attractive it is to outsiders. Not attractive in the sense of romantic interest. Attractive in the sense that this person has a draw to them. Their personality is inviting, unique, and confident. They have an ability to put other people in ease in their presence and are welcoming and inviting while also keeping people engaged. Charming people are attractive because their personalities and presence in a room makes you want to stay near them. 

Charisma: the way I define charisma is magnetism. Its one of the components to charm that acts as the hook, line, and sinker. Charisma is a person’s humour, their body language, their tone, the way they look at you when they speak, whereas charm is the agglomeration of charisma, style, confidence, and personality. 

Okay, now for the list. You can pick and choose characteristics from the following list to create your own unique combination for your characters, but its not enough to have characters “have” these characters. Remember part one of this post. How your characters demonstrate these characteristics is fundamental to how charming and charismatic they are. Also, the influence these traits have and relationship they have with other characters. 

Likeable traits: 

Intelligence: people generally respect intelligence in a person. There are different types of intelligence though

Wit: how quick-thinking a person is. Think of someone who is witty— they’re quick with their responses and multifaceted. IMPORTANT: multifaceted. If you’re just quick with your responses, you’re quippy. But to be witty, your responses have to display intelligence through introspection or observance in a humorous tone. It’s a hard thing to master, which is why witty people are usually highly respected and considered inexplicably charming. 

Shrewdness: think of this through the example of schemers. Shrewdness is a meticulous, detailed type of intelligence that is sometimes used in negative connotations to describe people who are cunning and use their intelligence for malevolent intentions. But in general, shrewdness is about being practical, decisive, and considerate of multiple factors before coming to a decision. It displays thoroughness and patience in deliberating one’s thoughts and actions. Personal opinion that is not at all unpopular: shrewd villains >>>> MWAH! 

Cleverness: I like to think of these people as atypical with their intelligence. They find out-of-the-box solutions to problems and are able to apply creativity to problem-solving. 

Knowledgeable: this is what people think of when they think of trying to make an intelligent character. The typical approach to writing a genius is making them know everything. And while many intelligent/smart people are knowledgeable, it's typically because of the underlying traits they have that drive them to pursue knowledge (i.e. curiosity, focus, passion, wonder, skepticism, objectivity). Focusing on those aspects of your character rather than what they know itself is what will sell your character as intelligent rather than a human encyclopedia. 

Introspection//Observation: this is emotional intelligence. Being able to assess people’s intentions, their emotional states, predict their reactions, and also being able to understand and connect to their own emotions. Emotionally intelligent characters are honestly so lovely, so refreshing, and such an underrated type of intelligence. To be able to read and predict human behaviour is so extremely impressive and also allows your character to alter their behaviour depending on their audience, which can add to their charisma and charm 

Kindness: no one likes an asshole. It’s really as simple as that. People enjoy the company of people who are tender, caring, compassionate, empathetic, and not mean. It’s safe company, and company that makes others feel better about themselves. Entirely welcoming, which is why its so charming to be kind and gentle. 

Humour: I could do a whole separate post on different types of humor. But to summarize it lightly, to write a character, it’s more important to try to humor the reader than the other characters. Humor is subjective, but adding genuine comedy rather than ingenuine reactions from other characters and telling the readers that ‘Character A is funny’ doesn’t have the same effect as inciting genuine laughter from the reader. Different types of humor include: 

Witty humor: as I mentioned earlier, it carries an added advantage of intelligence to the mix. These can include light jabs between friends, but if done incorrectly, can make the character seem mean. So good luck lmao 

Dark humour: hard to pull off tastefully. General rule with attempting dark humour though? It's all about boundaries. It's dark humour if you're joking about your own experiences, traumas, or something personal to you/your character. Doing it on the expense of someone else's experience is called being an asshole.

Sass//sarcasm: use this sparingly. Sass is fun with banter, but imagine hanging out with someone who answers everything with sass or sarcasm. Sounds exhausting? That’s because it is. Also, quick differentiation: sass has personality and a bit of zest to it; sarcasm is deadpan and mocking. Compare the following dialogues:

Sass: “Hey Jocelyn! Jeez… Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” “And clearly someone else woke up on the right side.”

Sarcasm: “Hey Jocelyn! Jeez… Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” “You don’t say.”

Trustworthiness: the most inviting thing about a person is knowing they’re not a backstabbing, shit-talking, macking asshole. Someone you can trust your secrets with is someone you can be vulnerable around, which is one of the foundations of creating intimate relationships. Having a character who blabbles off other character’s secrets, or even just petty gossip, is not a demonstration of trustworthiness. Valuing a person and truly listening to them while they speak, and then asking them about how private they want to keep that information— oof that’s a keeper right there. 

Good listener: just to bounce off the last point, being attentive and showing your character cares about the people around them, their interests, and what they have to say is such a likeable quality because it appeals to the part of everyone (including your reader) of wanting to be sincerely heard. Your character doesn’t have to be devotional. But it’s about being respectful. 

Okay, a bit more of a condensed list now so I can wrap things up:

Empathy: understand others’ emotions and being considerate towards other perspectives 

Humility: no one likes an arrogant prick. Don’t make them Mr. Humble either (Mr. Humble in the sense of being humble to the point of being rather pretentious or being a doormat. Like, a person can acknowledge their achievements, be proud of themselves, have confidence, and ALSO be humble by not being braggy and arrogant about it)

Honesty: telling the truth, yes, but also being sincere in how they conduct themselves. 

Reliability: no one likes mr. flakey lol. Being able to depend on someone strengthens relationships, and the moment a character exhibits this quality for the reader to view, the reader is able to attach themselves to this character 

Optimism: optimism is fun! Optimism makes people feel hopeful. Yeah, pessimism used for comedy with sarcastic characters is a whole trope. But it’s only likeable if executed correctly. Otherwise, pessimism can be a drag. Think of pessimism as the risky route vs optimism as the safe route. 

Resilience: showing a person’s willpower and their will to live by enduring hardship is one of the most respectable qualities, because its a quality we all wish to emulate in our real lives and understand takes a great deal of effort to actually be successful in. 

Generosity

Patience

Authenticity

Open-mindedness

Courage

Gratitude

Adaptability

Selflessness

Fairness 

Integrity: what are your character’s values? How true do they stay to their values? How strong is the needle of their moral compass? This one is massive to creating a character who reader’s respect, because efining a person’s value system allows them to become intimately familiar with the character’s perspective of the world, their ethics code, and their morality. Even if they cannot agree with all of the values of the character, a character who stays true to their values and has integrity is commendable, and therefore in most cases, respectable (hint hint, this is a huge transition to my next post lol)

Essentially, creating likeable characters is about trying to charm your readers with your characters' personality and presence, to the point where the reader would genuinely want to be friends with this person in real life. Having their actions match their narrative description and their in-story reputation also adds to your reliability as a writer. If you’re trying so hard to convince me as the reader than Jonathan is a real stand-up, charming guy who is a huge womanizer; smooth-talker all around to the point where he is able to get positions and extort favours from people because he has such a way with words… but then all of Jonathan’s dialogue sounds like a piece of wet cardboard was brought to life, I’m going to start thinking you as the author are rather delusional, think I’m dense, or have no idea how smooth-talkers actually sound. But what I’m not going to believe is that Jonathan is what you say he is. 

—

Okay! That’s all for today, folks! Stay tuned for my next post on writing unlikable characters that readers still want to root for. Also! I’m thinking of short story prompts for you guys to practise your writing with on this account, now that I have the chance to be a bit more active. 

Why do I have more opportunities to be more active? 

I FINISHED MY BOOK, BABYYYY!!! LETS GOOOOOO :D

Yeah, so I might post some excerpts of my own wip here. Currently though, I’m in the editing phases, and then querying!!! 

Okay, anyways, toodles! Have a great rest of your day or evening! <3 

#writers #writing #wip #writing community #writerblr #fiction #writers tips #writing tip #tips and tricks #writing tips #character development #charming #character #characters #ocs

[spacexseven]

ok ok ok ok ok speedrunning some characters + soulmate au

dazai - secretly really taken with the idea of having a soulmate. hes a hopeless romantic at heart so he'd be lying if he said he'd never kept himself up all night fantasizing about it, especially during the mafia days when the loneliness would get too much to bear. I could see dazai faking a soulmate mark for sure if he didn't already have one and had someone mind. if he did have one, he'd be very very VERY interested in tracking them down. if his soulmate is (understandably) a little put off by being saddled to dazai for the rest of their life and tries to hide it, they can try but he WILL find out eventually. and he'll start doing his best to prove that theyre Meant To Be which is. not great. imagine dazai being like. subordinate darling level mean to his soulmate for a while before finding out. devastating.

chuuya - 10000% gonna be mean to them Knowing they're his soulmate, thinks the idea is beneath him. this goes double for a non-mafia darling or a very low ranking mafia darling. I just don't think chuuya would find the idea of the person you're supposed to be with being chosen preemptively as romantic as dazai would, and would have a lot of criticisms of this so called "soulmate" that he WILL express aloud. ends up fucking himself over cuz by the time he comes around they pretty much want nothing to do with him. oops. also could see him with the Dating Someone Who Finds Their Soulmate scenario. Wouldnt Take This Well.

this is all I got so far if I have more will come back

- 🩹

the thoughts i have right now huhuhu actually uhh this isn't very yandere. apart from the stalking mentions so i'm sorry about that

if dazai doesn't have a soulmate he'd be devastated. he tries telling himself that this way it'd mean if he does find someone they would love him for him and not because they have to—the problem with this idea, though, is that he considers himself pretty unloveable. i can totally see him faking a soulmate mark to make it look like there's someone out there, but inside he's crushed by truth. if he does have one? he'll do anything to find them. (if it's like a 'timer' soulmate mark, he can't do much except practice his future interactions with you. it's a possibility that you might not like dazai for who he is, so fearing the worst, he puts on a facade that's the furthest from his true personality. he tries so hard to be who you look for in a soulmate, but you can probably tell he's not being entirely honest. of course, if you encourage him to be honest with you, and assure him that you won't hate him, you better be ready to make good on your word. he won't be thrilled to know you're terrified of him after knowing that he used to be in the pm or you find his constant possessiveness unbearable.

i think because of chuuya's complicated origins, he might have conflicting thoughts about a soulmate mark. just to keep things simple i'll go on the "dating someone who finds their actual soulmate" route. chuuya's never actually discussed the topic of soulmates with you. since you were dating him, he was under the impression that you didn't have one, or didn't care for one. regardless, he would be far from thrilled when you come across your actual soulmate. he's reminded that he's, apparently, not what fate considers your perfect half. while chuuya himself doesn't care about decided fate, you might not feel the same, maybe wanting to entertain this new soulmate of yours, and it pisses him off. even if you just want to talk to them, out of curiosity, he wouldn't allow for it. chuuya's liked you for you, and this person is just interested in you because of some so-called destiny. wasn't it obvious, that he obviously loved you more?

#yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya x reader #yandere chuuya #yandere chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #bsd

[ddarker-dreams]

Do you prefer Scaramouche or Wanderer? I love his new self so much but... the dark Scaramouche will stay my favorite 🩶

THIS QUESTION........................................... this question./........................ never have i been tasked with such a difficult dilemma. 😦

i love them both, but i suppose i do have a bias toward his scaramouche era. it's what originally endeared me to him. while i personally wish some parts of wanderer's development were done differently, i'm overall okay with it, and think it can be an interesting road for him to take. it is nice to see him start the journey of healing + his dynamic with nahida is super cute. also, him getting punished for his war crimes by being enrolled in college is funny to me.

from an aesthetics standpoint, while i find wanderer's design gorgeous, the fatui outfit is like. the best designed genshin impact outfit imo. the color scheme, veil, motifs, GOD... it's a treat for the eyes. during the 1.1 event i just stood next to him for the longest time.

when it comes to writing, especially yandere, scaramouche is a goldmine. high position for power imbalance, fully disillusioned with the world, vengeful, obsessive; it's a perfect storm for infinite interesting scenarios. honestly, even if he isn't yan, he'd be very possessive and have next to no chill. wanderer maybe has 2% more chill in comparison. the more feral and unhinged a man is, the more he appeals to me. i think it's cute <3

so, to answer your question, i adore them both, but scara has a special place in my heart.

#answered #Anonymous

[venusgirltarot]

Their Thoughts and Feelings During Your Last Sexual Encounter With Them 18+ — [♡];

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

This is an 18+ reading with sexual messages and mature themes. Please do not interact with this post if you are a minor or are uncomfortable with NSFW readings/messages!

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

Original pictures are not mine but I do edit them to match the theme of my blog/this post. Credit of the original pictures goes to the creators!

Interested in a reading from me? Book one here!

Pile 1 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Hello my lovely pile 1s! A lot of you may have picked this pile because I have a few different scenarios. For some of you, you may be stepping out of your comfort zone. Trying new things and meeting new people, learning more about yourself and doing more for yourself. You could be in your first semester of college or university and maybe some of you are hooking up in dorms 👀 you may have been through some sort of transformation, whether that be physical or mental/emotional and possibly both. It just feels like a new, fresh beginning. You could be hooking up with people or a person that you never thought you’d be able to get. The type of person you’d silently crush on and wish you were with before. I heard “I’m living in my fantasy” and “dream world” I also got an image of someone walking on clouds?

For others of you, you could be hooking up with an ex, possibly even an ex spouse that you’ve just finalized your divorce with. I heard “the ink ain’t even dry yet” 😭 if this is you, your guides may find the situation to be comical lol.

No matter the scenario, I believe you’re on a new period of your life. The end of one chapter and start of a new one. I heard “very vibrant” I also believe your relationship with this person was supposed to be no strings attached. You both agreed you just wanted to hook up and keep things strictly sexual but as time has gone on, there’s definitely feelings there and for most of you, those feelings are mutual on both sides. Again, there’s different scenarios here. For some of you (specifically those of you hooking up with an ex or previous partner) you know that a relationship with this person isn’t realistic and there’s a reason you grew apart and moved on. If this is the case, you’ll know. You’ve most likely already had this thought and are aware that this isn’t something you want long term and have probably already thought of cutting ties or just ending this sexual relationship with this person.

For those of you hooking up with someone new, the feelings are mutual and this could definitely blossom into something more. Their feelings for you are strong and quite overwhelming. If they haven’t told you about these feelings already, it’s weighing on them heavy and they want you to know. I’m hearing King of My Heart by Taylor Swift 🥺 I won’t say anymore about this aspect of the connection as this is not what the reading is about and I also don’t believe I’m supposed to say more than this and I would advise you to avoid getting too many readings or obsessing over the topic through tarot readings.

Now for the whole point of this reading, what they thought/felt the last time you had sex: the last time you had sex may have felt different from previous times you’ve been together. It may have been incredibly passionate and rough. There may not have necessarily anything that your person outwardly did that was incredibly different but just the energy. You felt like something had shifted and you weren’t wrong. This person may have been feeling very possessive/jealous over you. They realized that they wanted you more than they previously thought they did and they only want you, no one else. They may have held your throat or choked you while they did it from the back and there was probably a lot of whispering things in your ear. I also heard “attention to detail” and “vastly different” they could have also kissed your neck/back a lot and had moved or been gentle with your hair. I heard “pretty princess” a lot of spanking, too 👀 they thought a lot about you and how much they want you to themselves. How they wanted to give you the best sex you’ve ever had and make you feel more loved and wanted that anyone ever had previously. I heard “I just want to make you feel good” they may have even cried after you left. There’s a shift between the two of you and you both know it. There’s a craving for more, especially from them. They may be reaching out to you soon to hook up again. For some of you, they may even reach out to you tonight.

Pile 2 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Hello, Pile 2! For your reading, some of you might be having sex/hooking up with a childhood best friend or a best friends older sibling or something or just sibling in general. There’s something secretive and fun about this connection. Something only the two of you share that others don’t know about. Either your person is usually submissive and was dominant last time you were together or your person is usually dominant but submissive last time you two were together. They may be a switch and the two of you could be getting more comfortable with power play or switching roles. Maybe even some role playing. You may have some arrangement to try new things with each other. Like a way to experiment with each other sexually in a safe place where the two of you feel comfortable.

Your person was in awe of you the last time you two were together. They saw a different side to you sexually (this goes back to the dom/sub role reversal I mentioned in the beginning) they also felt very appreciative of you and your body. They may have taken time to think about how safe and comfortable they feel with you and how they’re not afraid to try new things with you or talk to you about their deepest fantasies. I also keep getting a message about threesomes. If this isn’t something you’re interested in them PLEASE don’t take this message. For some of you, a threesome may be something you really want to try and you may have talked to this person about it or maybe even had one during your last encounter. Again, if this particular message isn’t for you, that’s okay. Take what resonates and don’t let the rest take from you. Please remember, this is a general reading.

You may have teased this person a lot. I also heard “pleasured” you could have given them oral. This also feels sneaky like you hid away from everyone else but this could also just the the overall sneaky vibe of the connection. I feel like you were more comfortable in your own skin the last time you two were together. You may have been more comfortable in your body and showing it off more. Possibly even masturbating in front of this person or sending them videos of you masturbating. They really liked your moans, you may have been louder this time than you have been previously. They really appreciated how open and comfortable you were with them. I heard “treat my body like it’s yours” if you were wearing lipstick, they really liked it and if you have boobs, they really liked them as well and may have payed more attention to them as usually. They may have given you oral from the back or vice versa, possibly some 69 type business. You also could have done it outdoors or in the woods. You both were probably very happy or felt very euphoric and cuddled a lot afterwards. There’s just this feeling of relief and relaxation. They had so much love, admiration and appreciation for you the last time you two were together. They felt like you two broke down some barrier together and took the next step forward. Something about the last time you two were together made them feel so much more comfortable around you. They have such a fond and fuzzy feeling about you and your connection. I’m also getting something about a bunny or a rabbit.

Pile 3 ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Hello, Pile 3! Those of you who picked this pile may be in a serious or long term relationship. The last few weeks or days or months with your partner may have been stressful. A lot of things regarding finances and living situations may have been up in the air or left unknown and you felt very unstable. This could have caused frustration that maybe you and your partner took out on each other. However, it seems you’ve recently gotten good news or the tides have shifted for you and things are getting better. Maybe you just made the decision to sign a lease or you’ve moved into a new place. You finally feel stable and I heard “free” because of this, you and your partner are in a much better place in your relationship. You may have even had a discussion about how you both have acted recently and apologized to each other for your cruel and unwarranted behavior. The last time you had sex seems to be passionate and loving. Like the bond between you two was being mended and you were healing the parts of each other that you’d recently hurt. Making up for the damage you’ve done to not only each other but also the relationship. You felt safe and comfortable and like for the first time in a long time, everything was okay and the two of you are going to be okay. It just felt free. I think I’m hearing passion fruit by drake? That may be a message or confirmation for some of you. The last time you had sex may have been in your new home or apartment if that situation resonates with you.

The last time you had sex, your person felt so connected to you. Like the bond between you two was unbreakable. I heard “you’re my whole world” they may have been scared they were going to lose you at some point during this rough period for you two and they may have even been somewhat emotional the last time you had sex, even if they didn’t show it. The sex you had was probably very deep and passionate filled with quit whispers and a lot of very soft and sensual touches. I heard “I’m here for you” you may carry guilt or feel like the two of you were wrong for coming so close to an end in your relationship but you shouldn’t hold that against yourself or your partner. You went through a difficult time together and that’s normal. You’re together now and that’s what matters. You continue to wake up everyday and choose each other because you genuinely love and care for one another. Let that be your focus for the future and let go of the hurt caused in the past. Your person felt so relieved the last time you had sex. It may have felt like a wave of emotions rolled over them. You both may have even cried. Your person just wanted to care for you and make you feel good and they really liked hearing your moans, they may have moaned a lot as well. You looked the most beautiful you’ve ever looked to them the last time you were together. For some of you, maybe you had just found out you were pregnant. This previous struggle may have been caused by infertility or a difficult time getting pregnant and this good thing happening could be a pregnancy. For the first time in a long time, your partner just felt like everything was right and balanced and they just wanted to be in that moment with you. It was deep and passionate and I think it meant a lot to both of you and the two of you are still thinking a lot about it. You bond and relationship may feel like the strongest it’s ever been.

I hope this reading has brought you some sort of peace, clarification, or happiness! Feedback is always appreciated :) have a good day or night. Sending you love and light!

I apologize for any errors/typos! :)

#free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarot reader #pac reading #tarot related #tarot requests #tarotblr #collective reading #spirituality #18+ tarot #18+ tarot reading #tarot pick a pile #pick a card readings #pick a picture #pac #pac readings

[softrozene]

“Please Don’t Leave Me.” - Charles

From an old event I did called the Sad Yee Haw Hours: 

Anon asked: “Please don’t leave me.” But it’s coming from Charles 😱 

rdr2 masterlist

I can’t change it to fluff I can’t change it to fluff I can’t change it fluff I can’t change it to fluff  

Sweet, sweet, anon. I thought this one was going to be a piece of cake before I realized that making Charles hurt intentionally hurts me LMAO. So A+ for you. I struggled so badly not to put any fluff. Enjoy!

Originally published on May 16, 2020

Charles Smith x Reader (Gender-Neutral/Non-Binary)

Scenario Starter Number 10: “Please don’t leave me.”

Warnings: Angst, I have sinned for making Charles sad, this was the ultimate request that has done me dirty and it is only an average amount of angst lmao

Words: ~500

-

“Please don’t leave me.”

As the words leave him he grabs your wrist so gently. His fingertips already rubbing soothing circles along your inner wrist. It makes your heart stop. Your whole body is begging you to stay with him. Your soul feels like it is crying for him.

You are visibly shaking as you decide to test him one more time. “Are you going to stop fighting?”

You dare to look at him. He looks conflicted and mostly saddened by your threat and attempt to leave. His lips open to say something before he closes them tightly. The tears finally fall from your eyes as you laugh.

“I figured as much. You always said it was ‘us’ in the relationship yet you have never chosen me. When I asked you to leave the gang you chose them. Now you are participating in fights? The Charles I know would never do something this stupid,” You murmur.

His grip tightens for a moment but he is aware that this is a losing battle. He fucked up by not listening to you.

“I have always done what I could to protect you,” He whispers.

His voice trembles as he tries to conceal his emotions. It’s always hard for him when it concerns you though. You give him a sad smile.

“I always appreciated you protecting me. I want to stay but I can’t while you give in to whatever this is. It’s not like you and you don’t wish to stop so I must go,” You whisper back.

You move to hold his hand with your free one and he takes it. His fingers already trying to memorize the way you feel. His eyes are misty and his lip keeps trembling. It is the most you have ever seen him give emotion besides your past intimate moments with him.

“I’ll write to you,” You say moving the wrist he is holding.

He slowly let’s go of it and just stares at you. You peck the hand you are holding and he quickly says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Charles,” You reply.

It’s not enough and he knows this. You finally let go of him and pick up your bag. As your fingertips touch the door he tries again. This time his voice completing lacking any strength he had once possessed.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You almost break but instead, you say once more, “I’ll write to you.”

You leave out the door and the two of you finally let your visions blur with tears. You were supposed to be the person who would never leave him. Charles yearns to run after you but the logical and composed side of him knows you are right. He hasn’t been the same since the gang split and he needs to find peace with your decision even if it fucking hurts like hell.

#softrozene writes #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #charles smith x reader #gender-neutral reader #nonbinary reader #angst

[mable-stitchpunk]

Do you think The Mimic is pure evil or just one very unfortunate bot? seen a pretty big group of people lately saying its just pure evil but I'm unsure if a learning AI can actually be pure evil, esp when you could potentially contain and correct its behavior and AI.

While I do hate what the Mimic is now and that its just a charmless Ennard, I do think the Mimic has a ton of potential especially if a redemption path is taken with it, its a learning AI, its not set to be what it is forever, and with the theory that Cassie survived as well as Roxy I think its a perfect set up for Mimic redemption.

The Mimic could watch the positive interactions between Roxy and Cassie and learn like its supposed to, while I don't see it being immediate the Mimic could go from hostile to just... not exactly nice but not murderous, harsh, cautious, curious. And personally if anyone was going to befriend the Mimic I do think it'd would be Cassie, she feels empathy even for scary things that chase her.

But I doubt this would ever happen, its taking away a big scary bad guy from the plot and not putting another one in, even if I think the new big bad should be whoever owns Fazbear Entertainment now, there is some super shady stuff going on there. I think unfortunately the Mimic may be doomed to always be a shallow Ennard, a big scary monster and nothing else, even if it shouldn't be.

I feel like, from what we've seen in the books and game (and ignoring the random inconsistencies through some of the interpretations, that Mimic is pretty much just an evil supervillain who is bad. Sort of like Eleanor except sometimes it strictly mimics and other times it's aware. If it's possessing Helpi when his eyes go yellow, then it also occasionally acts like some of the variations of novel William.

By which I mean, Mimic could be a complex villain, but I just don't see it happening. A lot of what it is was piecemeal from other characters and backstories, which already doesn't show much originality on its part. And looking at the characters who directly inspired it, Eleanor, I don't foresee Mimic to be anything more notable than Afton replacement.

There of course ARE a few routes they could've or could go that would make Mimic more interesting. Here's some ideas:

Have Mimic actually not a sentient creature but instead does just mimic everything. In that case, it could mimic someone like Cassie or Roxy and become friendly- only to risk becoming aggressive again if it gets the chance to lock onto another subject to mimic.

Have Mimic be Edwin's child and have his resulting aggression and switch into villainy triggered by what Edwin did to him. A sort of reverse-Henry scenario. Plus, maybe there can finally be some thematic repercussions for the abuse and trauma the haunted animatronics went through. The new villain being a victim.

(I don't personally like this idea, but in case you want a shocking twist) Maybe had the Mimic be Glamrock Freddy. Recontextualize Freddy's "when she brought me down here" and "I am not me" lines. While clearing out the basement, Vanny accidentally awakened the Mimic who then overtook Freddy's body. Mimic then became convinced he WAS Freddy. Of course, this would only be effective if it was set up and revealed in Security Breach. Even then, it would still be a twist for the sake of a twist.

Have Mimic actually be Ennard, lol. I don't know how he got there, but those wires could probably squirm into a random suit more easily than a random endoskeleton.

Have Mimic start mimicking Roxy and Cassie get control of it through its programmed bond, then have like an alternate Gregory/Freddy relationship except it's Cassie and this extremely aggressive endoskeleton that thinks it's Roxanne Wolf.

Of all the options, Mimic being a redeemable or an easily manipulated villain would certainly be more interesting than just bad because evil. Maybe even go a Fabrication Machine route somehow.

In 9, the Fabrication Machine unleashes a war against the humans and kills them all off. While in the movie the Scientist suggests this could be because the machine doesn't have a soul, in the Scientist's Journal it is shown that the machine was overworked creating war machines for the humans and that its resulting turn on them was likely triggered by that.

In my opinion though, I think it would've been cooler if it was The Blob luring her down there. The Blob, under the right circumstances, could be very terrifying. It is a monster, but imagine it luring a child with the voice of another... perhaps because it believes it's a child too.

A mat of wires comprised of numerous victims, numerous bodies, numerous voices. It may not have any souls left inside of it, maybe it does but they cannot distinguish themselves. All it knows is that it wants out and it cries out for help from a 'fellow child'.

But there's no helping it. It is simply too dangerous- because unlike Mimic, who can barely move faster than a light jog, who can be broken apart by an elevator door, who is destructible... You cannot destroy writhing wires. There's simply too much to take it out.

You may try to suffocate the voices of agony, but they will continue screaming from the depths until someone comes to find them.

I don't think Mimic ever had a chance to be that cool. 😔

#The Mimic #Fnaf #The Blob #The Tangle #Eleanor #Villains #“Oh you're a villain alright just not a super one” #“Yeah? What's the difference?” #“PRESENTATION!”

[dr-scribbler]

Jazbaat: A Fiery Tale of Love and Desire

Please be aware that this fanfiction contains scenes of violence and explores mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Author's Note: I want to clarify that my fanfiction based on the movie "Animal" is purely a work of fiction and is not meant to endorse or justify any actions or behaviours depicted in the film. I do not support or agree with the characters' actions or attitudes portrayed in the film. My intention is solely to explore the characters and scenarios from the movie in a different light and to see how much more depth and complexity I can bring to them through my writing. Thank you for understanding.

Please note that I do not own any characters from the original movie Animal. The only characters that belong to me are the original characters (OC) created for this fanfiction.

(Preview)

‘Let me go,’ she whispered to him, gritting her teeth. Her heart started to break at what she was experiencing right now and by whom.

With rapid breaths, he shook his head and tightened his hold on her. In his mind, he was already planning ways to keep her close to him and only him; all these years, he had ached for the one thing, which was her. And no way in hell would he let her go now, after all these times.

‘You can’t seriously do this to me.’ A tear fell on her face as she tried to remove herself from the person she loved. Right now, all she could see was the obsessive, possessive person, not the man she fell in love with.

With his big hands, he took her chin and forced her to see his eyes, which spoke all the words his mouth couldn’t do, but it still didn’t change her mind.

She is not supposed to stay here and doesn’t want to now. Whatever feelings they had for each other don’t matter now.

‘You are married, Abrar. Not once but thrice, and you can’t possibly have me either! I am not some side-chick you could have as a trophy to showcase, and I will never be yours.’  She spat the very well-known facts with disgust on her face.

‘Not yours. Not yours, ' Abrar kept, hearing those words that left Aparna's mouth. As his eyes turned red with anger, his hands tightened around her chin, causing her breathing to become rapid.

‘I am yours Abrar. We are one soul and will always be.’ Abrar remembered their promise and her words when they were both young. And it doesn’t matter how the present is; all he knows is that she is his as much as hers.

She is the flower that makes his morning bloom.

She is the sky that covers him as a blanket.

She is the hunger that keeps his animal alive.

She is Aparna to his Abrar.

The first Installment of the series will be live on "17/03/2024"

Let me know your thoughts, guys!!

@whippersnappersbookworm  @harinishivaa @thelekhikawrites  @willkatfanfromasia  @yehshuhua  @arachneofthoughts  @vibishalakshman @nspwriteups  @thirst4light  @hollogramhallucination   @celestesinsight ​  @curiousgalacticsoul  @themorguepoet @tranquilsightseer @nature-writes29 Appreciate all of your thoughts on this.

#bollywood #animal movie #ranbir kapoor #bobbydeol #sandeep reddy vanga #desi tumblr #desi cinema #indian cinema #indian aesthetic #abrar #passion #love #animalmoviefanfic #original character #kollywoodcinema #telugucinema #tollywood #india #cinema #fanfic #oneshot #Spotify #desi tag #hindi cinema #Aparna

[tomatosoupgroup]

HELLOOOOOOOOOOO tomato soup groupers

sorry for the late post!!! i wanted to get a few things done before the post.

one of the things i wanted to do was get the RPG dialogue working. and...

i did!

well, sort of.

it only plays the first dialogue inputted, and doesn't advance to the next.

i hope i'll get that fixed by next week. no promises tho lmao

yknow, this whole thing is kinda funny. i originally wrote the code to work for an RPG-like environment. (the first iteration of this code was made for a rpg diminish fangame, which i kinda shelved cuz i wanted to work on more personal projects)

HOWEVER

it's been adapted SO many times since then. because of that, i now have to REIMPLIMENT the rpg dialogue.

my journey thus far has been VERY tedious.

originally, the dialogue box would only show this.

this is an error message that i wrote into the code. whenever the dialogue box appears without any sort of pre-determined scenario, it'll show this.

i saw that for like. hours. lmao.

then this happened!

so uh

this.

this only happened once.

when i tried it again with the same code, it didn't do this

don't you love it when you're trying to make a game and a ghost fucking possesses your computer

game development is SO FUCKING FUN man

there's also this variable in the global singleton called "donkeyKong"

i have absolutely no idea what it's supposed to do! woohoo! thanks past me

anyways, that's gonna be all for today. sorry if this wasn't as insightful as you hoped it to be

i am VERY tired right now because i spent like the whole day trying to make the code type out the dialogue and at this point i think i deserve to rest

love you all

-Callie

#game dev #gamedev #electric love #electric love game #godot engine #screenshot saturday