#sometimes murder is the answer and that is okay

[lagosbratzdoll]

I am growing increasingly frustrated with liking Daenerys = Nazi discourse, I am sick of it, it annoys me so much. It is one thing to dislike Daenerys, and another to call everyone who does a Nazi. It's annoying to hear how I'm a Nazi for seeing myself in a woman who was sold into bridal slavery, raped and abused, survived and is currently fighting to end slavery on a continent that has been slaving since before the Valyrian conquest of Old Ghis. 

Daenerys experiences reflect the experiences of many women of colour, especially female immigrants of colour. Daenerys reminds me of myself, of my cousins, of my sisters, fighting to survive the abuse our patriarchal family members put us through. She's exiled from her home through no fault of her own. She's trying to find a home and in the meantime, she's building bonds of love with her people. Daenerys is many things, but a Nazi isn't one of them. When she rains fire and blood on the slavers, I'll be right there cheering her on. 

#daenerys targaryen #game of thrones #asioaf #the discourse around this topic is horrendous and exhausting #she hasn't killed enough slavers imo #she should kill more #true change cannot come about by negotiation #some people are going to have to pass on #and that's okay #slavers do not see the people they've enslaved as people #they're merchandise #No amount of smooth talk or politics will convince them that the enslaved are people. #how do you politic your way out of a force killing freedmen in the shadows? #how do you end an inhumane practise without fire and blood? #sometimes murder is the answer and that is okay #fuck d&d btw

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Just scrolling through your blog (loving all the AU's by the way) and I gotta say, I'm not sure I understand the full on hatred Freddy and Gregory are getting (although I feel like I should mention that the GGY story does heavily imply that Freddy is specifically more involved in protecting "Dr. Rabbit" than the other animatronics are, even though his code is found in them as well.) I haven't gotten the full details of what your version of sb and ruin is (you've written a lot and it's all great) but if it's anything like how the games played out? Then their biggest crime is not going back to repair the other glamrocks once the pizzaplex shut down.

Gregory had to face each animatronic on his own, a little kid against a giant robot wanting to kill him. The excessive force makes sense. Especially since they ARE robots and can be repaired. Sure it would still effect them given how sentient they are but the damage he did to them was a lot less permanent than what they could have done to him. Yeah he owes them an apology but he has more reason to be wary of them than they have of him. And Freddy? Yeah he probably could have done more but at the end of the day his one goal was keep Gregory safe and get him out of there. All he did was let himself be upgraded.

As for Cassie? Personally, I'm of the view that the moment Gregory gets cut off by the mimic in the elevator he is booking it to the pizzaplex, mimic be damned. He's waking Vanessa, unplugging Freddy from the charging port and dragging them there. Sure it's Roxy who opens the lift doors to check on her, she's already down there, but I'm certain it's Gregory and the others who find a way to get them out, all while Gregory is begging for her to be okay because this is EXACTLY what he wanted to avoid. He's probably having a breakdown, the moment he sees Cassie is okay he'd probably collapse and hug her and Cassie would be understandably suspicious but his reaction is not what she'd expect which would catch her off guard.

Because, here's the thing I think people overlook or maybe just don't see fit to mention, Gregory had no reason to wait for Cassie to get into the lift before dropping it. If he wanted to trap the mimic down there he could have disabled it beforehand. If he wanted to tempt the mimic into the shaft and then drop the elevator on top of it? He could have waited until Cassie got out at the top and then done it, the increased height would have definitely done more damage to it. Though considering how it tosses a forklift so hard it imbeds itself into the cave wall? When Roxy had a hard time lifting one off her? This thing is much stronger than a regular animatronic and could probably survive that easily.

The mimic on the other hand? Needs Cassie dead, has been mimicking Gregory all night and has access to the systems through the network once Cassie disabled MXES for good. It didn't need the concrete wall destroyed, it could have left through the other side of the room and went for the elevator shaft the moment Cassie turned off the computer. But it didn't. Because with Cassie as a witness it loses its chance to disappear without people knowing about it. If Cassie escapes she can cut it off, she's the only one in the Plex capable of accessing both the V.A.N.N.I network and tampering with the security nodes. If she gets out she can turn them back on. If she's dead then the mimic can be long gone before anyone else with that ability arrives.

(sorry for the ramble, once I got started I couldn't stop.)

You're good on the rambling lmao I'm gonna go through this paragraph by paragraph to make sure I get everything for you

I completely understand why you'd think I hate Freddy and Gregory given what me and @/jellycreambloodlust (affectionate) have talked about a lot lately. I don't actually hate either of them and I don't think I'd ever take a story in the direction of killing either of them, but ya know, it's all in good fun. I'd kill off my favourites if it was fun too lmao I absolutely don't hate either of them at all I promise. I've also not read GGY and since it's written by Andrea Cradenza-Tubehell Waggener, there's a very slim chance I ever will. I've read the wiki summary of the story though so I kind of know what goes on in it, I just don't know the details and stuff, ya know?

Interesting to know Freddy is implied to be protecting Doctor Rabbit though! I was thinking about this a little bit ago and that was my guess on how Freddy would have been on Gregory's side during he events of SB if you considered GGY to be canon. That's cool, I'm glad I got that one right! Anyway!

In terms of Gregory, I don't see much fault with his actions to be fair. You're absolutely right, this is a kid in a giant pizzaplex full of animatronics that want to kill him. It's a fairly reasonable response, and tells us a bit about how he thinks when he has to handle big problems. If you look at it from the lense of him being recently freed from Glitchtrap, it makes even more sense for him to do that, as he knows what each one of them is capable of and the less weapons Glitchtrap and Vanny have at their disposal, the better. It also explains why he chose to save Vanessa and how he knew what to do, and we already know Freddy is his favourite so of course he'd choose him to protect him.

From the other side though, you can kinda understand why they'd all be upset. It's not their fault they're being controlled, and before Ruin came out, I said they would probably not blame Gregory for it at all once things calmed down again. Having damaged body parts is completely different to an animatronic than it is to a human, yeah, but you also have to consider how these parts were taken. Roxy is a racer, so she was hit with a go-kart. Chica loves food, so she was crushed in the kitchens with all the food waste. Monty is said to stand by the Lucky Bucket a lot, so he falls from the Lucky Bucket. The things that mean the most to them, are the things that got them destroyed. Then some kid comes along and takes their strongest parts away to stick them on Freddy. They're not saved like Freddy is, they're seen as weapons, tools and opportunities, which would really fucking suck.

They have a right to be upset about it I think. Gregory isn't entirely in the wrong for doing it either. It's a complicated situation, especially if you remember that Roxy is a security node, who most likely was keeping the Raceway and Salon shut on purpose, and was potentially using those eyes to keep track of Mimic through the floor. We can't be sure that was the purpose of the eye upgrade, but the provided reason for it doesn't add up and the logs surrounding Roxy are worded as if they're just grasping at straws to explain her behaviour. With a threat like Mimic in play, taking Roxy's eyes is probably not a great plan! Can't really blame Roxy for being pissed off about that one!

Neither side here is really at fault given the circumstances, and I think if the animatronics were to be freed, they'd have come to that conclusion on their own too. I'm with you on Gregory's actions being understandable, I agree with you there. I definitely don't hate or blame him for it. I'll get to Freddy in a minute though.

Yeah I don't think Gregory dropped Cassie either. It would be an interesting story regardless whether he did or not, but you're right. It absolutely doesn't make sense for him to have done it. The way he talks even changes part way through that ending dialogue, I don't think it was him. Especially now that I know there's a staffbot encounter that Gregory sometimes talks through in an attempt to reach Cassie. It just doesn't make a lot of sense

When we've been talking about it lately, it's been almost entirely from Cassie's perspective. Unless Cassie figures it out, she's probably going to believe that Gregory is the one that dropped her right at the end. That's the scenario most of the recent talking has been about. Cassie believing it was Gregory and trying to get justice for that. Like I said, it's all in good fun, ya know?

I feel Cassie is pretty smart, and the question of why would stay on her mind for a very long while. I think with some help, she would be able to come to the conclusion that it probably wasn't Gregory, but in a situation like that, I don't think anyone could be one hundred percent sure. I mean, there's always going to be some doubts, right? She was betrayed twice in like... ten minutes by the same voice after all, I think that's fair enough.

And to consider it from Gregory's side? That's a hell of a situation to be in, I'm not sure how you'd come back from that. I mostly mess around with scenarios where Gregory has no idea Cassie is down there at all, possibly even getting an alert weeks later as if it's just happened, so Cassie not trusting him is completely out of nowhere for him. It's an interesting scenerio to have Gregory, Vanessa and Freddy show up to help too and there's so many ways that one can go, but I feel like with Roxy being a security node, they maybe can't actually get down there now. The MXES isn't completely offline now, right? That door won't open until it's offline. So now they'd have to scramble to try and see what's going on and try and get in contact to help from up top which is probably hell on earth

I mean, knowing what she does, would Roxy even let them connect to her? Probably not! Which also probably doesn't help! It probably feels like they've gotten no closer to actually helping than when they were back home trying to get in contact with Cassie! Awful! Hell of a situation! I feel like Gregory's first thought would be to bust the door down though which probably ends with another forklift stuck in a wall or nearly flattening Roxy as she gets out with Cassie, but he's trying his best! He's got to do something, right? It's better than feeling helpless!

Now uh... well then there's Freddy. I want to start by saying once again, I don't hate him, and I haven't read GGY.

With that said, if you look at what he does in the game, including all of the aspects of him that are clearly just there for game design purposes... He's to blame for almost everything. Unless he is still acting on whatever GGY programming he has, he's to blame for a good chunk of the game. And honestly? I find him more interesting in this light.

To briefly explain, he just does basically nothing. This is a game design thing, I'm aware, but as this is usually framed as a choice on his part, I choose to treat it as such. He leaves Gregory alone for the vast majority of the night unless specifically called on to help. He is fully aware that the others aren't acting as they usually do. There's no way he doesn't know what happened to them as he's actively helping Gregory do this stuff. He chooses when it's okay to make exceptions to the rules, and when not to, for example, he takes Gregory to the staff tunnels where he shouldn't be, but won't open the VIP door for him to leave unless he has a VIP pass, same with the loading docks etc etc. In this situation, he is the only responsible adult available, with the task of keeping this child safe and getting him out of the pizzaplex, and he consistently chooses not to do anything unless Gregory specifically asks for help.

What I'm saying is that the game would have been over in five minutes if he'd actually been trying to help.

Which is interesting to think about! Why is he making these decisions? Does he not feel as if the others are a big enough threat to him? Is it habitual as he often doesn't follow kids around during the day given there's way too many to do that for? Is he doing something else that we don't know about? How does he feel about the others if he's prepared to leave the Pizzaplex at a moments notice like that? He clearly loved Bonnie, so is it all to do with a sense of grief? That it doesn't really matter anymore now that Bonnie isn't there or something? And fuck, how does everyone else feel, knowing that Freddy didn't even once stop Gregory from destroying them and didn't once try to help them? How do they feel knowing that he left them when they needed help?

Even factoring in GGY's coding being a potential reason for this stuff, if the actual, untampered with Freddy is in there, knowing what's going on, is he trying desperately to stop it? Is he trying to help? Or is he just sort of nodding along like "yeah that makes sense"? Or has he just given up completely? Who's to say?

So I definitely don't hate him. I won't say he's my favourite or anything because he absolutely isn't, but I don't hate him. He's interesting to me, just not in a way the majority of the SB fandom seems to like, which is fair enough. We all like what we like and we all have our own interpretations and stuff, there's no wrong way to have fun, right?

I hope this clears some stuff up and I'm also sorry for rambling lmao

tl;dr:

I don't hate Gregory at all, don't blame him for his actions in SB and don't think he dropped Cassie in Ruin. I blame Freddy instead.

#pop rox answers #not sure what else to say here so uhh #yeah thinking about what could drive someone to murder is interesting #and I can completely understand why people would think I hate gregory and freddy given recent convesations dsfssf #I'd kill of roxy too if it was fun. i kinda killed dj off once because it was fun I love dj #oh wait I had an au where from most perspectives I killed everyone off one by one #I didn't but like. I had a setup that made it look like I did #it's fun murdering your faves sometimes #if I REALLY didn't like Gregory I would inflict Horrors onto him because I'm a big believer in dying not being a punishment #.... then again that's not a great comparison given.... all the angst on my blorbos... #okay what I mean is if I didn't like him I'd just stick him in gay baby jail and forget about him #I about characters all the time but it would be intentional lmao #long post #very long post #I'm very sorry mobile users

[spookyowlman]

ok this is prob too similar to the other anon but i also enjoy how like… scary your barnaby is? sometimes people portray him as excessively cutesy but yours isnt like that at all,, its a good balance of Scary and Goofy Little Guy :}

x

// SCARY?? U THINK HE SCARY???

AAAAAA THANK U SO MUCH!!! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT BC IVE BEEN WORKING SO HARD TO MAKE HIM CREEPY AND SCARY

Because that's just how I see him! Spooky AND silly :}

#And yea I agree #I sometimes feel like ppl forget hes supposed to be a murderer which is a shame. I LOVE the silly murder owl #Not saying that anyone else's portrayal is bad or anything though. Other people see him differently and its okay :) #Ooc #Sorry for taking so long to answer ajdjdjdj this is like 2 or 3 weeks old

[unofficialadamtaurus]

"Yang's "you never gave up on people, even when they hurt you" sounding like something that would be said about Sun vs. Blake getting hurt by Adam and, in fact, giving up on him." anon..

I literally thought about this the entire time... unfortunately... like. Blake wincing at a comment Weiss made. that line just now in todays episode..

THERES SO MANY MOMENTS WHERE I THOUGHT ABOUT ADAM THIS VOLUME SO FAR... I was live blogging the last episode and I posted this few aka Weiss comment I was talking about:

" “things have to die someday, right?” Weiss says. WHY DID BLAKE WINCE AT THAT. is there something you want to share with the class "

like... girl you are thinking about something. you have to be. like clearly obviously the event in v6 is still bothering her and still hasn't left her mind.

that's clear because they've only talked about him like. once. not even directly. they don't talk about him directly ever. in the scene where they were talking about him in v7...

whole conversation:

Yang: He didn't have a lot of good options. (abt ironwood ig?) Blake: I'm not sure there are many good options left for any of us, anymore. Keeping secrets, *taking lives? It makes you wonder how far we're going to have to go to keep doing.. the right thing.. ... Yang: Blake. *We did.. what we had to do. ... Blake: *I know.. But next time, I want to make sure.. we don't have to. And I can tell you, ambushing a huntress who's just trying to help isn't an option I'm thrilled about choosing. Yang: Then maybe we shouldn't.

*highlighted parts are about Adam (NOT DIRECTLY, but they ARE talking about him) proof:

from the writers documentary. (it's an image.. should show)

Are they still hinting at how this still bothers Blake in this volume?? Since they've done it in v7 or is that out the window? Things still haven't gotten better in regards to what Blake was worried about in this original scene. in fact they've gotten worse (we know).. but she isn't talking about it. NONE of them are even talking about it..

So many people have died!! yet the last few episodes all of the characters are like "oh, another time." and "i don't wanna talk about this right now." GIRL YOU HAVE EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF THE MINUTE OF THE DAY TO TALK ABOUT THIS.

All of them are worried about the same shit.. and don't want to do their worst but ohhh that cannot be avoided because they're not even speaking about it at all.

they're all insane /lh

Tbh I haven't really gotten Adam vibes from anything this season other than the hilarious hypocrisy of Yang's line, but I also haven't been looking for them. Didn't notice Blake's wince at that line either. Maybe it's about Adam? But with how he is apparently The Character Who Shall Not Be Named now, I don't see them doing much with him and particular his relationship with Blake, so who even knows what Blake was thinking about in that moment.

Unless you count Blake's uncharacteristic shyness, meekness, and fear of everything around her as Trauma about Adam that's only resurfaced after *checks notes* an indeterminate amount of time after killing him with her own hands.

#nolanporfirio #unofficial adam answers #rwby spoilers #long post #people dying on the hill that blake leaving adam in the black trailer wasn't 'giving up on him' is so funny to me btw #like buddy she absolutely gave up on him and that's okay. sometimes you gotta give up on people to heal. #sometimes this show's writing is just bad. #yes trauma is complicated and i don't doubt that she could experience relapses even after he's dead #but these aren't relapses. it's her whole character. the show never explains why her fire from the early volumes - #when leaving adam was a RECENT development for her - #vanishes without a trace after V5 #if they just had a fkn CONVERSATION about her trauma but noooo we'll leave it to headcanon #because all great and engaging and totally not contradictory characterization comes from leaving it all to headcanon /s #imagine a blake whose trauma re: adam is properly fleshed out and explored #as seriously as jaune's trauma from pyrrha's death and murdering penny #hey weird that jaune keeps coming u -

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

jonah: killed a guy at work today

seth: what

jonah: he was trying to lure some kids to the backroom

seth: did you make it hurt?

jonah: yeah

seth: good

He’s supportive. At least.

#asks are neat #Seth just. concerningly okay with murder sometimes #like if you ask him how to kill someone he’ll answer. in detail. then you wonder where he got the information from and he won’t say- #it’s getting hard for Gabriel to keep him out of jail- /hj

[gazelessmenagerie]

Broly, will you ever admit that you actually care for that rabbit and dumb human?

Ask my muse personal questions, if they lie, the mun will answer it truthfully in the tags

" Why should I? If they're too stupid to know where they stand, that is of no concern to me. " The notion itself was more than enough to sharpen the lethal edges of his glare as they pierced straight through the miserable cur daring to intrude upon the sanctity of his space. A plethora of bones littered around where the extraterrestrial sat over a flat topped stump, idly gnawing over a femur before he snapped it in two. Spitting out the side that was caught between his jaws, the intimidatingly tall stature of the Brute stood to his full height and began to stalk his way closer to his prey with the jagged end of that ivory pointed towards the Greyfolk.

" A better question is... what does it matter to you what I do with those I claim? "

#|| Tag: Answered #Anonymous #|| Tag: Gazing over the Abyss of Stars { Broly } #( welp. there goes the streak of him not either threatening anons or murdering them outright ) #( asdfljg as for actually admitting? ) #( I mean that really hinges on what one deems as 'admitting' because this emotionally constipated asshole ) #( can't say 3 little words of ' i love you ' in a thousand years. But he expresses in other means ) #( by y'know. not killing them for starters alsdfsgj ) #( okay he might've come close in the initial meetings and greetings but as time went on and those two ) #( kept with worming their way under his skin. I'd say just him lingering around them or even ) #( growing complacent enough to enjoy spending time with them and even being entirely ) #( eager to fucking kill for them (and I mean he will indeed kill the universe if it comes to that) is about as any ) #( full blown admittance from him. ) #( but if you are expecting him to say he loves them verbally. lmfao no. that's not happening. ) #( The closest he'd get is saying a word in his language but it's more of a contextual meaning than ) #( saying it outright. ) #( he's fucking wierd like that. idk what to tell you. ) #( if you can undersatnd all that.. congratulations. I don't even understand it myself sometimes and I write this bastard )

[yohankang]

Kang Yohan 😆

that's my personal blorbo

#kang yohan did nothing wrong <3 murder is okay sometimes <3 #thank you ❤❤❤ #answered

[gglitch1dd]

His Wife (ProHero Izuku x Wifey Reader)

Day 5 of Breedingtober

<<MASTERLIST>>

Izuku winds up on a podcast where they were talking bad about you, his beautiful wife. However sometimes, you need to calm him down.

Warning: Trying for a baby, unprotected sex, slight sexism and anti-feminism (personally I find it anit-feminist if you have a problem with someone being a house wife), angy Zuzu, teasing, slight brat energy from both Izu and Reader, petty Izuku, SMUT, BREEDING,

Words: 5k

You heard the front door open as you just managed to switch off the stove. It was evening and your husband had finally come back home. You moved to wipe your hands on the towel on your shoulder as you turned to the entrance of the kitchen. Walking in was your husband. You smiled. “Evening, Izuku.”

However, you didn’t receive an immediate reply as the giant prohero moved to pull you into his arms and release a heavy sigh. He closed his emerald eyes as he just wanted to hold you for a second. You raised an eyebrow wondering what had happened for this to occur. You flicked your gaze up to him, but you moved to rub his back supportively. Izuku let out a deep sigh as he rested his head on top of yours.

“Are you okay, my love?” You asked him with a raised eyebrow. Izuku didn’t answer immediately, not knowing entirely what to say to you about all of this. “How did the podcast go?” The large green haired man let out a groan as he let go of you and moved to lean against the counter. You giggled as you watched him move his hands down his face in exasperation. “Not good, I see.”

Izuku sighed. “I’m sorry, darling, for acting so down the moment I come home.” He apologised first and foremost. “You don’t deserve to be greeted like that, but…” He paused before letting out another loud groan as he looked to the ceiling. “I swear to God! Y/N!” He put his hands together as he looked to you straight and serious. “I’m going to murder someone.”

You chuckled as you moved to take off your apron. “Izuku, you can’t murder someone.” You calmly deflected logically. This wasn’t the first time he had made such allegations but you normally didn’t take it seriously unless it had to do with Bakugou Katsuki. Normally then attempted murder was their form of love language.

“Yes, I can.”

“Izuku, you can’t be a hero and murder someone.” You reminded him.

Your green haired husband folded his arms over his chest. “Honey, I am sure, if I can kill villains I can kill people.” You gave him a pointed look making him sigh.

You knew with Izuku’s jobs, there were certain unsavoury things that he had to do for the sake of peace and justice that made you wonder how far Heroes were willing to go to maintain their definition of law and order. You knew how much of a strain it could be, especially with him being the number one hero and him having to know and keep so many secrets from the public that you might not even ever know.

You sighed as you moved over to your grumpy green haired tree of a husband that leaned against your marble countertops. He had a frown on his face, showing how deep in his anger he was. You put your hands on his arms with a gentle smile, rubbings his biceps as you looked up at him. “My love…” Izuku closed his eyes at the sound of your voice. He let out a deep breath and dropped his head in defeat. You saw some tension leave him as you continued to smile up at him. “You just got home. You’re tired. Now, I’ve just made you pork, your favourite, and we can sit down and have a nice warm dinner together. Then you can hit the shower and we can sit down and talk about it with you having calmed down a bit with food in your belly and a nice relaxing shower to wash away the day. Okay?” You asked him.

He opened his eyes, those green deep jade eyes looked down at you lovingly. He nodded his head as he moved to put his hands on your hips. “What would I do without you?” He asked you gently. He bent down to place a kiss to your lips. You reached up and kissed him back. Izuku let out a soft breath, just having your lips against his and feeling you in his arms. You always somehow took all his pent-up energy away.

You separated from him with a happy smile. “You’d probably have killed Katsuki by now.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t already.”

“Izuku.”

He chuckled as he put his large hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He moved to grab his laptop back. “Let me put this in my office and I’ll be down in a bit.”

Dinner was pretty normal, with Izuku wanting to spend the time focusing on you and what you did during the day. As a house wife, there was never really a shortage of things to do around the house, but a lot of your time was also spent working on projects that the Deku Foundation was busy with currently. Being wife to the Number One hero was a lot of work and a lot of energy spent on making sure that the brand that was Deku would stay up on top like it was supposed to.

With you heading a lot of that, you took a lot of nitty gritty work off of Izuku’s shoulders which he was grateful for. Especially with the Little Heroes Boarding School you were both planning on opening soon. Izuku nearly cried when you had told him what you wanted to start. A school dedicated to helping quirkless, less advantaged or abandoned children in finding their feet and cementing their future. It was perfect for what you both wanted to do to give back to the community directly. It was in its final execution phase with already a hundred children selected and it would be open in three months time.

You had been working so hard to ensure that it would be a success and Izuku couldn’t help but be so grateful and in awe for the amount of effort you had put into it. He took some less hours off of work to help you with it, which you were very happy about.

After that, you headed upstairs where Izuku took a much-needed shower to relax his muscles and you got dressed for bed. You were in your short silk nightgown by the time Izuku came out of the shower, drying his hair. You smiled as you sat down on the large bed in the abundance of pillows, Angelica-Nina laying next to you, flopping beside you.

Izuku’s shoulders lowered as he moved to lie down with his head in your lap. With the large hero lying down in front of you, Angelica-Nina moved over to hop to Izuku. She moved to settle on his chest, loafing herself as she settled in for a snooze. Izuku found his hand on top of her, petting her ears down as he sighed.

You looked down at him as you brought your hand to his soft still damp curls. “Still want to talk about it, love?” you asked gently. He nodded his head. “Alright, I’m listening.” You took a comb from the side table and gently started combing his mess of dark curls.

Izuku sighed and you knew by the tone of his sigh that it was something that deeply bothered him, but then again, with a husband as beautifully sensitive as your own, it was to be expected. “So I went on the Everything podcast, as you know. I don’t even know who on my PR team thought this would be a good idea but I went anyways. It was good the first half, I answered some questions, had a good debate and talk just about my life, UA, being Number One, my workout routine, a few controversial questions here and there but overall it was fine. To be expected. However, then we got onto the topic of you…” You hummed as you combed through his hair, but listened to him intently. His hand moved to rest on the black rabbit on top of him. You saw a slight rise in anger as his eyebrows furrowed. “So I talk about how we met, the wedding and all that stuff. Then one of the women on the podcast say, out of nowhere, ‘Oh that’s why you heroes could never handle a real women.’”

You tilted your head in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“RIGHT!?” Izuku nearly sat up, disrupting the rabbit on top of him, but you pushed him back down to lay down. “Now I was confused, I had the benefit of the doubt and I just questioned like whatever did she mean by that. Then she tells me, ‘You heroes always say you support women and that you’re feminists, but you ain’t. All you male heroes want are plain jane submissive women because you’re too intimidated by working women with their own opinions. You just want someone to wife up and keep your bed warm, you don’t want an actual woman. You just want a quiet breeder trophy wife.’” He quoted. “Honey,” Izuku chuckled darkly, immediately notifying you of the mood he was in. “I was going to kill a bitc-”

“Izuku.”

He closed his eyes, holding his tongue. He took a deep breath before letting out again. You always tried to keep his swearing to a minimum. Although Izuku was pretty good with changing the way he spoke depending on the situation, you didn’t need a slip up where the whole of Japan could turn and point at him.

He wasn’t Katsuki.

He sighed as he brought a hand to his eyes. You gently moved his curls back and looked down at his freckled face. “And what then?”

Izuku opened his eyes and looked back up at you. “So then I just told her, ‘The roles in my marriage is between me and my wife’, then proceeded to list every reason why she was factually incorrect, cause she was!” He spoke matter of factly.

Angelica-Nina lifted her head off of Izuku, realising she was not getting any sleep with this man around. She hopped back onto the bed settling in there. That’s when you noticed that your bunny that Izuku had gifted you for your first anniversary together, Valentino-Nino, a rather cuddly buck rabbit, hopped onto your bed. His fuzzy brown nose nudged Anglica-Nina. With the appearance of her comrade and lover, Angelica-Nina lifted her head up. The two of them hopped off your bed and proceeded to head out of your room to the hallway probably heading to their room and space in the house.

“I mean ever since the Endeavour scandal I know when it came to heroes and their partners a lot of the public was still pretty uncomfortable discussing in depth about it, but to go so far and say that all heroes are all like that? It’s absurd. Most heroes marry other heroes and if not, its not like they’re actively looking for some doll…” You watched his voice trail off a bit. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern. Izuku moved to look off to the side, looking almost a bit guilty. “But… it just made me a bit worried that maybe I was-”

“Izuku no.” You nodded your head. “Izuku, you’re feelings are valid and honestly I feel offended too.” You notified him making him nod proudly that he wasn’t overreacting. “I mean when we met, I was working and when we got married, I decided to be a housewife and that’s fine. You didn’t force me or hint that you wanted me to do that. It was a decision I took onto myself. You know why?” Izuku shook his head, not a hundred percent certain. “Izuku, in the unfortunate and unlikely circumstance that we ever got divorced,”

“Over my dead body.”

You chuckled. You placed a kiss to his pouty face and continued. “If that ever were to happen, it’s not like I don’t have any qualifications or money in my savings that I don’t have entirely in my name. And Izu, you make a HELL of a lot of money, half of which we keep in different saving and investment accounts. We don’t need a second income.” You reminded him as you gently massaged his head. “I mean yah, working would fill up my days more, but I’d rather that job be given to someone who might need it than to me who doesn’t. Plus, Izu…” You leaned down closer to him. You cupped his face in your hands. “When I took you as my husband I chose to trust you as a man and as a provider for this family. I’m not worried about income because you don’t make me worried about that. I can relax and do what I want to do and focus on the Deku foundation rather, or flood your phone with TikToks giving you baby fever so that you can finally give me a cute baby in rabbit onesie.” Izuku let out a laugh at that, remembering one of the more recent ones you had sent him. The two of you had recently started to try for a baby (much to Izuku’s relief for the fact that he hated latex, and he hated the possible side effects of hormonal birth control on your body). “Izuku, I want a baby.” You whined playfully.

Your husband chuckled moving to put a hand to your arm. “I know my love.” He moved his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and  bringing it to his face. You saw a slight blush on his face. “I want it too, my love.” His voice was quieter than before, almost shy to reveal it, as he didn’t look you in the eye. You found it adorable, placing a kiss on his forehead making you chuckle. “But first,” He chuckled. “I just… are you sure you’re happy like this?”

Your face softened as you looked down at him with a smile. “I’m happy, Izuku. Don’t let other people define us. We work just the way we are.”

Izuku stared up at you, pupils big as he smiled gently. His eyes were soft as he reached up and put a calloused large hand to the side of your face. His hands bore the scars of the world and were rough from all the work he had put into them, however they were the most caring hands you had ever felt in your life. You closed your eyes and hummed with a smile. He moved to sit up and turn to you. “I appreciate you… you know that?”

“I know, Izu.”

“No, I’m serious.” He moved to pull you closer to him so that you slid down to lay beside him. He snuggled you close to his chest as he spoke to you. “You make me feel… you make me feel worthy of being a hero, worthy of being your husband, worthy of my quirk and worthy of being a man. Really I… I couldn’t be able to do everything on my own and you do most of it. I’m just the face.” You giggled at that statement making him smile. He placed a kiss to your lip taking you by surprise but you smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.” You chuckled against his lips, but kept against him.

Izuku kissed you with a hum from his chest. A few quick pecs that grew longer as the butterflies in your tummy grew wilder. Until he held you firmly, kissing you deeply. His tongue in your mouth and his hands around you, making you feel like putty in his hands. The thing about kissing Izuku was that it was as if he was searching for something. For something deep inside you that you didn’t know you had. His hand moved to wrap around your neck as the kiss turned messy, almost as if he was trying to swallow you whole. And when you gasped for air, it was almost as if he was disappointed. As if he wanted to drown in you trying to find it.

“Wait, wait.” You breathed out, making him stop completely, as he looked to you making sure you were okay, concern evident in his eyes and furrowed brows. You glanced to the doorway. “The bunnies.”

“The… the bunnies?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You nodded your head affirmatively. “Yah. I don’t want them to hop in on us.”

Izuku stared at you for a moment before letting out an amused chuckle. “Darling, the bunnies don’t care what we’re doing.”

“It would be indecent, Izuku.”

He motioned to the door with an amused scoff. “We see them humping each other all the time. You don’t see us bothered by it.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Their animals.”

“I’m an animal.”

“Izuku!”

He chuckled but moved to get up. “Okay, alright.” He got up from the bed and moved to close the door. He motioned to the now closed door as you sat up. “There no innocent bunny can hop in on us having sex. Are you satisfied, my love?”

“Very much.”

He laughed as he moved to sweep you up off the bed effortlessly, pulling you up to wrap your legs around you as he turned around and sat down on the bed with you on top of him. He smiled up at you, half hypnotised with you and half deep in lust at the thought of you. You smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him once more.

He groaned in pleasure as you moved closer to him, your hips moving on impulse. His large hands moved to your hips as he held you in place to grind down against his hardening cock. He loved the feel of you, one hand moving up and down your body, his hands having already memorised every part of you and yet wanting more. He wanted to know more of you for a thousand times over. Till his last breath, he wanted you even if he had had you a thousand times before.

You let out a soft whine as you felt his hard cock through his shorts rub against your clothed clit. You tightened your grasp around him as you chased that feeling again. He chuckled as he moved his lips away from your neck to look up at you, as he kissed your chin. “I want you like this.” He let out lowly.

“You want me to ride you?” You asked breathy and soft.

“All the time.” He smirked as he looked up at you. You chuckled but then a gasp and a moan tumbled out of your lips as you felt his fingers rub against your clit. You didn’t know how he got his fingers in the places that they did when his hand was so big, but you wouldn’t question it. You sunk in deeper, closer to his hand, your hips twitching as his thumb rubbed your clit and his fingers sunk deep inside your slicked up heat. You let out a giggle mixed with a moan.

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you in pleasure because of his actions. He loved watching you feel good. He loved watching you feel good because of him. However, being a hero, Izuku noticed everything, and he always noticed when your hand moved down his shorts to free his cock. Your smaller hand wrapped around his shaft, loving the warm feeling of it. You loved watching him twitch and ache for you. You loved watching the way you dragged your hands up the underside of it making his thighs twitch for a second as you rested your hand around the head of his cock. You rubbed your thumb around his slit, spreading the pre that spilled from his head.

Izuku watched as you raised your hand to your mouth. You licked your hand, putting your fingers deep in your mouth, lathering them in saliva before moving your hand back down and moving to stroke his cock. At the sight of you, Izuku let out a groan as he paused temporarily from fingering you. “Honey,” He let out lowly. “I love it when you touch me, but I’m super pent up right now and it won’t take me long if you keep doing that.” He warned as you continued to move your hand up and down his cock, feeling him so firmly in your hands. You giggled, earning a raised eyebrow from him. Unexpectedly, a harsh thrust to that spongey spot inside you made you squeal unexpectedly, making him smirk. “Very funny, hm?”

You chuckled. “You’re so petty, Izuku.” You told him.

“Darling, I thought we already discussed how petty I am.” He effortlessly moved to lift you up with a single hand, a show of strength that made you clench around his fingers making him smirk. You carefully moved to align his cock with your entrance. He slowly lowered you down on his cock making you both hold in a breath.

You moaned at the stretch of his cock. You had loved that over the years you had managed to suit him just perfectly, almost as if you both belonged together like jigsaw pieces. Izuku loved that too. He loved that you were made for him and he was made for you. You were made to fit together like this. It made shiver run up his spine and a moan tumble out of his lips as you were finally seated on top of him. He licked at his fingers eagerly making you giggle.

You interrupted his quick taste test with a kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you stuck against him so that you could taste yourself on him. You moved to lift your hips before going back down on his cock. The action brought a groan out of the both of you as you steadily began to ride him, slow but consistent. You used your thighs to move yourself up and down, holding onto his shoulders as you did so.

You flipped your head back, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of him and you slotted together. Izuku watched with a half lidded gaze of lust with a smirk on his lips. You looked amazing like this, on top of him with his cock inside you. He gripped your ass tightly, holding onto you as he moved to shift your nightgown higher up so that he could easily watch your hips move as you moved up and down his cock. He loved watching you on top of him almost as much as he watched you underneath him. Nothing else mattered other than you and the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as you held onto him for dear life, increasing your pace as you chased that knotted feeling inside you that ached for release.

He chuckled as he watched you rather recklessly bounce on his cock, your breaths increasing as you tried your best to chase that orgasm you were building up. You whined as you opened your eyes and glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

He shrugged. “Need my help, love?” He asked as he chose to lean back and watch you rather than assist without you begging for it.

You hesitated. You wanted to say no and keep face, bring yourself to your own orgasm while riding him, like you often did when you wished for him whenever he was away on a mission or at work, however you really didn’t have the self control to do that. Your expression changed and Izuku immediately caught onto it. It was one of need. Inherit need and aching, a whine tumbling out of your lips.

“Izu… Izuku please help.” You begged as you moved your hands over to grab at your chest as you looked over at him. “Please. Please, my hero.”

At the nickname you saw his green eyes darken in a way that had your sex tightening around him. Without saying anything he moved to grab onto your hips and slam into you making you jolt at the pain and pleasure. A cry escaped your lips as he started to move your hips up and down, easily falling into the same rhythm you had when you were riding him without his help. He moved to fall back onto the bed, shifting over so that you were a bit more forward, your hands moving down onto his bare chest to balance your weight.

Without warning he thrusted into you making you shoot up. “Oh FUCK! Yes baby! Yes! Just like that~” You moaned as you moved to jump and match his thrust in a perfect balance of him and you. “Fuck, Izuku, you’re so sexy. My big loving husband, always protecting me and standing up for me. You’re so amazing like that Izu.” A low growl left the back of your husband’s throat as he furrowed his eyebrows, focused on fucking you. You knew how much praise got to him, how much you just acknowledging him had him in a chokehold. “Give me your cum, Izu. Put a baby in me.” You pleaded as an orgasm took you by surprise as you moaned, your thighs trembling in pleasure as you sat on top of him, your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Izuku let out a low groan at the feeling of your sex gripping his sex so tightly. “Good girl. Riding my cock like a champion, huh? You think I forgot how needy you are, keeping me late this morning just so that you could fuck me this morning. My wife’s such a needy little slut for me, aren’t you?” You nodded your head with a hum, your mind too numb off of the pleasure of him inside you to care much about what he said. He smirked. “Yah, you are. All you want is my cum dripping out of you, showing who you belong to. Showing- fuck.” He gritted his teeth at how close he was. A moan tumbled out of his lips at how your ass clapped against his thighs and the way your sex massaged his cock as you rode him like no tomorrow. “Showing who will give you a baby. You want that? Can I fill you up, darling?”

You nodded your head with a teary eyed plea. “Please.”

A low grunt escaped his throat as his thrusts grow harder and more sporadic, his grip on you borderline painful cause at this point he just was using you as a fleshlight and you couldn’t care less. You bit down on your bottom lip as you felt him pound into you until finally, he slammed inside you, making you squeeze around him as he came inside you. A gentle soft moan came out of your mouth as you felt his cum fill you.

Izuku groaned as he held you on top of him, however you rolling your hips as he went through his own orgasm didn’t help either. You giggled as you savoured the wonderful feeling of him inside you. Your hands moved down your body, gripping your breasts over your nightgown with a bite to your bottom lip. “You love this pussy, don’t you?” You asked softly, rolling your hips.

Izuku put an arm over his face as a blush went to his cheek, a groan leaving his throat as he tightened his grip on your hip with one hand almost painful. “Fuck~” You felt him twitch inside you making you giggle. “Don’t say stuff like that, darling.” He breathed out, moving his arm off his face, revealing a blushing freckled face. He relaxed back into the bed sheets, with you still on top of him.

You bent down low closer to him and placed a kiss to his lips and he immediately reciprocated back. “Feeling better?”

He chuckled. “Much. But… why do I have a feeling that you aren’t gonna let me sleep tonight?”

“What makes you say that?” You smirked.

He looked up at you for a moment, pure love in his eyes, adoring and endless and only for you. He leaned up closer to you. “The bunnies aren’t the only ones who lack self-control.”

#mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha #deku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoryia smut #izuku midoria x reader #izuku smut #izuku midoriya #deku x y/n #deku smut #midoriya smut #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku rizzdoriya #bnha

[natalievoncatte]

Lena didn’t have time for traffic. She looked up from her phone and glared at the back of her driver’s head.

“Frank, why is it taking so long?”

“I’m not Frank, Ma’am. He called out this morning.”

Lena sighed. “And your name?”

“Vincent, ma’am.”

“Vincent, why is this taking so long?”

He signed. “Traffic, ma’am. Sounds like there’s a few blocks downtown closed. Supergirl is fighting some monster or alien or something.”

Lena stopped herself from smiling softly. “Ah, well then. Anyway, might as well see if you can find us a way around. I just don’t like to stand still.”

The driver nodded.

“What do you think about Supergirl, ma’am?”

Lena sighed. “Forgive me, Vincent, but I do have some work to concentrate on, here. I’m not usually one for chitchat. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sank back into her seat and flicked to the next email. There were a lot of fires to put out. Upcoming product launches, grant applications, university partnerships, charity events, plus her own work. She was becoming so strained lately that she was seriously considering stepping down from the direct CEO role so she could spend more time in the lab, where her real passion was.

Sometimes she almost sympathized with Lex; the life of a CEO could easily drive someone insane. Lena would rather spend her days in a labcoat or doing charity work than listening to another entitled silver spoon-

“You’re going the wrong way,” Lena said, sharply.

“I’m finding a way around,” said the driver. “You know, you never answered my question, before. What do you think of Supergirl?”

Lena stuffed her phone in her pocket and thrust her hand in her jacket, freeing the concealed revolver she carried in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The partition was already going up, sealing her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Answer my question,” the driver said, through a speaker.

Lena swallowed hard. “I think she’s a hero but I don’t fully trust her. I work with her when I feel it will help people. That’s all.”

“That’s not what your mother thinks.”

“Isn’t it?” said Lena. “What does she think?”

“Are you fucking her?”

Lena barked out a laugh. “Are you serious? That’s her question?”

“Are you fucking her like you debased yourself with that little tart in boarding school?”

There was silent beat.

“She told me to say that. She made me practice saying ‘tart’.”

He sounded almost bored.

“Fuck you,” Lena snapped. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it.”

“Nothing personal,” said the driver.

Lena sighed, almost annoyed at the hiss as a thin, chemical smelling gas hissed into the car, rising around her. She forced herself to stay calm, stoic, even her pulse raced.

“I’m not afraid of you, or her,” said Lena.

She coughed twice as the world irises shut around her, dragging her down into a cold, dreamless sleep.

When she snapped awake, she was alone. The partition was open, but the gun was gone from her holster. She felt around for it, then decided to clamber into the front seat, rolling over the seats facing her. The driver was gone, of course. Heavy chains were padlocked around the car, pinning the front doors shut.

There was a tape recorder sitting on the front seat. Lena ignored it as she looked around. The car was surrounded by metal walls, and a creep sense of dread rose up Lena’s spine. She fought the panic down, dropping into the driver’s seat.

Placing the tape deck on the dash, she pushed the okay button.

“Hello, Lena,” Lilian said, in her smooth, posh tones. Lena could hear that smarmy smirk forming around her words.

“You’re probably expecting an ultimatum or an offer. There will be none. I’m through trying to bring my husband’s wayward bastard back into the fold. When you betrayed Lex again, you burned your last chance. It’s time to take out the trash, Lena. I wish I could have throttled you in the cradle, but I didn’t know about you and your mother until it was too late. It’s time to correct that. It’s too bad we won’t be there to watch.”

Watch what?

Lena sat and waited. Whoever was sent to murder her had no sense of dramatic timing. She began rifling through the car, trying to take stock of what she had, what she could use to effect an escape. Breaking the-

A sharp shriek of metal cut through her thoughts. The side walls inched forward with a screech of metal, and Lena froze, terror piercing through her like an icy spike.

Oh.

Oh God.

The walls moved slightly more, and the rear view mirrors on both sides of the car exploded. The mechanism pushing the walls strained and groaned, and that was the only mercy she had.

She was in a car crusher. In the car.

The armored structure of her town car was too heavy for the machine to simply crush, but she had minutes at most. Metal groaned in protest, shrieking around her, and the glass quivered in the doors.

Oh God. Oh God.

She wasn’t going to panic. She wasn’t going to panic. She ripped open every single compartment and cubby she could find, but found only monogrammed glassware and a bottle of champagne. There was nothing.

A random, forgotten Lexosuit would be really useful right about now.

With a sudden shriek, the car began to collapse. The bulletproof glass buckled and shattered, pelting the front seat as she rolled into the back, and the doors buckled in, tearing loose from their hinges as the floor and roof began to fold.

A sudden, ringing, frankly stupid thought came into her head, but it was her best play.

Lena Luthor filled her lungs. She took in the biggest, deepest breath of her life, a breath worthy of a championship deep diver, and screamed at the top of her lungs, until it hurt.

“SUPERGIRL!”

She had to scramble into the back seat as the engine began pushing through the dashboard, ripping apart plastic and leather, splintering buried wood. Lena ducked as the roof crumpled and dove in, like the roof of a dragon’s mouth crushing down to pulp her. She closed her eyes and curled in on herself, hoping it would at least be over fast.

A single ringing thought bit through the fear.

Oh God. Kara’s waiting for me at the restaurant.

Around her metal shrieked, and she heard the vast clang of rending machinery. The inexorable crushing stopped, the bucking limousine going still. Lena opened her eyes, peering through her fingers like a terrified child, and watched in awe as one of the crushed plates tore loose from its moorings and went flying off into the afternoon air.

Hands, strangely delicate, punched through armor plating as if it were cobwebs and ripped the broken shell of Lena’s limo apart, spreading it in every direction.

Lena had never seen Supergirl so panicked. Her eyes were too wide with abject terror, and she seized Lena in her arms, winding her cape around her, and rocketed loose from the car.

Lena’s words were lost to the wind. Supergirl was blasting into the air, flying incredibly fast- too fast. Helpless, she clung to the hero for dear life, feeling woozy as the blood drained from her skull.

She thought, oh, come on, as she passed out again.

When her eyes drifted open, Lena was lying on the ground. Groaning, she sat up slowly, feeling every movement, and realized she’d been lying on a spread red blanket with her suit jacket piled up under her head for a pillow, and she was in the woods. The sun had yielded to the sky, and someone had started a roaring fire a few feet away.

Grateful for the warmth, Lena edged closer. As she did, she realized that she was sitting not on a blanket but on Supergirl’s cape.

Blinking, she looked around.

Supergirl had her back to a tree, curled up on herself with her head hanging between her knees, arms wrapped around to cover her face, and she was sobbing quietly. Lena stared, open-mouthed.

“Supergirl?” she breathed.

Supergirl didn’t respond. Lena rose to her feet, wobbling, and discarded her heels before walking across a bed of soft leaves. She crouched in front of the weeping Kryptonian, stunned when the other woman flinched.

“Supergirl?”

“Lena?”

Her voice was small and soft, all the bravado and righteous authority gone. She sounded strangely human.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I think I am,” said Lena. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she sniffed. “A Tauraxian hit me in the head with a greyhound bus. Tuesday afternoon at the office.”

Lena laughed softly, and sat down. “I’m sure. What just happened?”

Supergirl swallowed hard as she looked up. “I panicked. I saw what was happening and I lost control. I’m lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

Lena put a tentative hand in on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“More than you realize,” Supergirl sighed.

“I’m here,” said Lena.

She sat down. Supergirl looked away from her, staring I to the fire a few feet away. In starlight, with the firelight caressing her delicate features and sparkling in her blue eyes, it was impossible to miss how hauntingly beautiful she was… and how haunted herself. Supergirl looked older than her years, a deep sorrow in her eyes that Lena had never seen before.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Supergirl explained. “Not the kind of thing that you advertise.”

“We all have our fears. I have some of my own.”

Lena pushed down thoughts of a pale hand sliding beneath churning black water and shuddered.

With teary eyes, Supergirl looked at her.

“I can’t. I can’t have fears. I’m Supergirl. I have to be perfect, set an example, all that crap. I’m the perfect woman who came from the sky to do only good.”

The perfect woman, Lena thought, consuming the firelit beauty before her. No one would debate that.

Well, Lena would, maybe. There was someone more perfect, someone soft and kind with a devastating smile and laughing eyes tinged with strange sorrow. She hoped Kara wasn’t worrying about her.

It was funny how Lena always thought of Kara when Supergirl was around. Guilt, maybe. Foolish guilt; Kara was a far shore that Lena would never reach, even if she’d gladly sink in the attempt.

“Before I came to Earth, I drifted in the phantom zone in my pod. There were things outside. The pod was the size of a coffin, a tiny space to spend all that time. The phantoms would claw and slash at the canopy and the walls. I was awake for days hearing them trying to get in. Sometimes there were bigger things out there, wrapping arms around it and trying to crush their way in.”

Lena nodded. “That sounds beyond terrible. It’s okay for you to be scared after that.”

Supergirl nodded. “I can barely handle elevators sometimes.”

A jolt went through Lena, something familiar, like a word on the tip of her brain.

“I get scared when other people are enclosed, too,” said Supergirl. “When I saw something trying to crush you, I just lost it. It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena swallowed hard, trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her body and made the small hairs on her arms stand on end.

“Back in high school, the other girls used to bully me,” said Supergirl. Once, they locked me in a closet in the locker room. I screamed and screamed until until someone let me out. Alex was furious, she…”

Supergirl went quiet, trailing off. Her eyes went wide and she jolted back.

Lena sat there for a second, unsure why…

Wait.

Alex?

High school? Supergirl went to high school?

With Alex? Alex Danvers?

Lena choked down a gasp, the wheels whirling in her head. She looked over and met Supergirl’s eyes, studying them. Her. The way the light played across her soft features, her honey hair, the little scar above her eye.

“Hi, Lena.”

“Hi, Kara,” Lena whispered.

Neither of them moved. Lena wondered briefly if Kara had ever planned to tell her, how she might have planned it. Probably not like this. Her throat bobbed.

Lena shifted closer, until they were hip to hip in a seated hug, Kara crying softly on Lena’s shoulder, powerful arms wrapped around her.

“I was scared,” said Lena. “I was afraid I was going to die and you’d be sitting at the table at the restaurant waiting for me.”

“Never,” said Kara. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And I’ll always protect you. Nobody is ever going to shove my Kara in a closet ever again.”

Kara let out a little gasp.

“Can we stay here for a while? Talk? Just you and me?”

Kara nodded. She stood and gathered up her cape as Lena moved close to the fire, and sat down, wrapping it around them both. Lena let her head fall on Kara’s shoulder.

“This makes a nice blanket.”

“It is a blanket. My cousin was swaddled in it when he came to Earth. Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Lena laughed softly, awkwardly trying to decide where to put her hands. She settled on being bold, and put her arm around Kara’s waist. Kara slipped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her in, and Lena hugged her back, tucking herself into Kara’s shoulder.

They sat for a while as the fire burned down low. It was full dark and the fire was nothing but coals.

“I was going to tell you. I wanted to.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” Kara sighed.

Lena swallowed hard, trying not to feel her blood rushing in her ears.

“You know,” she said. “You could kiss me right now, if you wanted. That seems like the kind of thing the hero does after saving the girl.”

“I could?” said Kara.

“You could.”

“Like this?”

Kara was trying to be smooth, and it made it hard for Lena not to giggle. She tipped Lena’s chin up with soft fingers and guided herself in, bringing their lips together. Kara kissed her softly, tentatively. Lena kissed her back just as softly, afraid this moment would shatter if she pressed too hard.

It was easy to shift herself into Kara’s lap, even before Kara lifted her there. Lena knew she was strong but not Kryptonian strong, and it it sent a thrill through her. She liked it.

She liked touching Kara, too. Liked feeling the bunching muscles flex under under hands, the softness of her hair, the way she gasped when she felt Lena’s lips on her throat.

“Never have I wished so badly for a tent and sleeping bags,” said Lena.

“And marshmallows to toast!” said Kara.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?” Lena giggled.

Kara looked at her intently, and Lena shivered, not from the cold. She’d longed for Kara to see her like that, look at her like that.

“Sometimes,” Kara whispered. “Sometimes I think about other things.”

“We should probably go back,” said Lena. “We have people who are probably looking for us.”

Kara nodded.

“Do you want this to be… do you want us to be?”

“Kara,” said Lena, “I would have asked you out a year ago if I thought I had a chance. I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

Kara swallowed. “Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?”

Lena smiled softly. “Yes.”

Kara rose and clasped her cape to her shoulders, then gently brought Lena to her feet and lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

“Not so fast this time, okay?”

“Okay,” said Kara, lifting them back into the sky.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #campfire confession #accidental identity reveal #softcorp

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Part 12 CW: blood, past trauma and experimentation

Jason could almost go to sleep. He wouldn’t, not when he was the only Bat in the apartment, but it would be so easy to. Danny made a really good weighted blanket.

It seemed once the kid got over touching someone, he basically became a koala. Cass and Danny had spent the morning wrapped around each other on the couch. Cass was playing one of her weird clicking games and Danny, blue bear in his lap, was scrolling through articles on the tablet that Tim had brought him the other day.

Now, though, Cass was out on a snack run and Danny had slowly slumped over until he was laying across Jason. It wasn’t minded. Jason could admit he still had some trouble with touch himself, but it was easy to be there for Danny like this.

The problem was, Jason needed to get back to Crime Alley for at least a few nights. He was already past when Red Hood should have made an appearance. It he didn’t go back soon, rumors were going to start that he was dead. Again.

Jason waited for Danny to start searching for a new article to read to ask, “Are you alright with meeting someone soon?”

He didn’t expect Danny to tense like he did.

“Robin?”

“No, Dandelion,” Jason said, stroking Danny’s white hair. “N talked with Robin and he knows not to stop by like that without warning. We’ll have him over when you’re comfortable but not before.”

“Okay. Sorry. I don’t mean to…”

“None of that. He freaked you out,” Jason said. “I know he didn’t mean to, and from our guess it’s not his fault how he feels like to you, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. It’s okay to set boundaries.”

“He… doesn’t feel weird to you?”

Jason sighed. “No. I guess I don’t sense it. I didn’t know you had died until you told me.”

“Oh.” Danny’s voice was small and quiet.

“But I knew that I had died— the others know it’s too,” Jason was quick to add. “It’s alright that you died. No one will think differently of you.”

“They might. It’s… you’re different than me, I guess.”

“I don’t know, because I don’t know what happened to you, but I actually hope so. The way I came back wasn’t pleasant.” Jason had to take a breath before he continued. “I was murdered by a rogue in town called the Joker. I woke up… we’re still not sure when exactly, but somewhere about half a year later. I didn’t have any of my memories, but I still had most of my injuries.

“I was picked up by some people you might hear us refer to— the League of Assassins. They put me back together about a year after my death by tossing me in something called the Lazarus Pits. Those things come with a price though, one that I’m still paying. Coming back was… hard, in a lot of ways.”

“Oh,” Danny said. He clung a little to Jason’s shirt, like he wanted to make sure Jason was still there. It was a feeling Jason understood all too well. “I, um, don’t think I’ve ever stayed really dead for more than a minute or two. At least not like… not like you were.”

Jason rested his hand on Danny’s back, feeling him breath. Feeling him… feeling him not breathe.

“…Danny?”

Danny clung tighter to Jason’s shirt. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Are you… somewhat dead right now?”

“Yes.”

Just one word. A simple answer.

“Okay. That’s— okay. I’m glad there’s a reason that you’re not breathing,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to the top of Danny’s head as he tried to calm his own pounding heart.

“I think B.B. knows. I usually… it’s habit to breath but sometimes I forget and—”

“She’s good at noticing things.” Jason would have to talk with her. “But that goes to what I said, right? None of the others will thinking of you differently.”

“Even if…”

“Even if anything.”

Danny sat up and Jason resisted the urge to reach for him. It took him a moment longer to release Jason’s shirt. Jason sat up slowly and waited for Danny to get the words out he was obviously working on.

“Can I show you?”

“Course.” Jason braced himself for anything.

“It might be bright, close your eyes.”

The flash still shown through Jason’s eyelids.

“Oh.” Danny’s voice wavered horribly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Danny?” Jason was reaching forward even as he opened his eyes.

It was good he did.

He had to catch Danny as he wavered dangerously. Danny’s who hair was black. Who’s eyes were blue. Who looked all the more like Bruce’s son. Who was bleeding red.

-

“Jesus and Mother Mary,” Dick cursed, resting his forehead against his wrist’s.

Cass came over and peeled the bloody gloves off for him. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Dick wheezed.

“Badly.”

Jason barked out a laugh at that. It was unstable in a way that reminded the room of worse days.

The door banged open and they all jolted, everyone but Cass, who was better than that, and Danny who was still out cold.

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Tim rambled. “Is he stable?”

“Yes,” Cass answered. Her voice was calm, but but Duke could see the way that she fidgeted. For anyone else it wouldn’t be called fidgeting, but the way that she untied and retied and untied the trash bag in his visions told Dick otherwise.

Cass was as worried as the rest of them.

“Signal?” Tim asked. He came into the room, tablet already pulled up to record everything.

“Hard for me to say,” Duke said with a little shrug. He wished he could say, but he was still trying to understand what he was seeing. “The guy is… he’s like no one I’ve ever seen before. But I think he’s getting stronger.”

“That’s��� holy fuck.” Tim paused as he finally got a look at Danny.

“Really looks like the old man like this, doesn’t he?” Jason asked. He was trying to hide how his hands were trembling by keeping his arms crossed. Everyone in the room let him pretend.

Duke sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the one Danny collapsed on like that. It was bad enough being the third one there as he swung over from his patrol. The cuts had still been appearing on Danny’s skin, ripping him apart like he was nothing.

He didn’t look much better all bandaged up.

“I think the cuts were ones he must have sustained before changing forms before he even met us,” Duke reasoned. “They… felt old.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “So the whole time they were there just waiting to bleed?”

Jason laughed again. “Waiting for him to be alive again.”

Slowly, Dick dropped his hands and looked up at Jason. “Jay?”

Okay, so they were at the point of forgetting cape-names now. That was a great sign.

Confusingly, Jason looked to Cass, who actually fidgeted.

“He doesn’t breathe. He does, not always. His heart beats, not always. It is like he…,” she twisted her hand as if trying to grab onto the right word. “Like he relaxes and forgets.”

Well that was weird. Dick nodded to the monitor that he had helped hook up. “He’s breathing right now and the monitor says his heartbeat is hella slow, but steady.”

“This is his alive form, I think. More alive form,” Jason said with a shrug. “His other form is his more dead form. He said he’s never stayed ‘really dead’ like I was. I think ‘really’ was the important word in that. He stressed it like it was… a technically or some shit.”

“Or a loophole,” Tim said. He was watching Danny with his head tilted just slightly to the right.

It was a pose that had Duke straightening up in attention. “What do you see that I can’t?”

Tim glanced at him and then back down at Danny. “The scars don’t match.”

“Ti—Red, please just say it,” Dick pleaded, exhaustion hanging on his words.

“Sorry, I was. I mean, the scars he has now don’t exactly match the scars he had in his— what are we calling it? Dead form?”

Jason flinched.

Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Tim. “Let’s go with… ghost. Undead, you know?”

Tim continued on valiantly. “His scars don’t match with what he had in his ghost form. There are a few like around his neck that I think are one-to-one and a lot of them are in the same place from what I can see and might be the same? I’d have to take photos and compare. But… he has more in this living form, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, right, so that’s a thing,” Jason said. He slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was squatting. He hung his head between his knee and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck.

Duke could see Jason passing out with enough probability that he slipped out of the room to grab some sour candy for Jason and an icepack for the back of his neck. Being honest with himself, Duke could use the moment out of the room. It was a lot to deal with.

Man, someone would have to do something about the bloody couch too… Dick sighed and took the time to send a message to Babs about it as well as an update. Knowing her she had a list of all the furniture in all the safe houses and could get a slipcover ordered on same day delivery. At least he hoped so. Everyone was taking this pretty hard and they didn’t need the reminder.

Duke figured the bad reaction was pretty fair though, they had thought that Danny was getting better and now his healing was going to be set back. Dick would be guilty because he hadn’t been here, Jason going through his issues about kids and violence and death, and Cass already counted Danny as family. She was never good when family was hurt. It was even worse that Danny should have been safe, he was under their watch.

Duke set the pack of candy and ice pack down next to Jason’s foot, close enough that he should be able to feel the cold, and backed up to his corner. It was best not to touch right then. He wasn’t afraid of Jason ever hurting him purposefully, but he was also very aware for Jason it might not always be purposeful.

Cass joined him, leaning against his side, and Duke wrapped an arm around her. Tim was tapping away on his tablet, mostly muttering to himself, but Dick had gotten up to peer over his shoulder.

Jason tore open the packet of candies and popped one in his mouth.

They’d be okay.

It would take work, but they were Bats. They were stubborn.

Dukes wrist buzzed. The tracking number for slipcover flashed across his hud. It would be there by 9 pm.

They’d be okay.

-

Everything hurt. Everything ached all the way down through his skin and muscled and bones. His breath caught in his chest, ragged and frayed like his lungs were full of shattered glass.

He tried not to make a noise.

He tried to stay quiet.

They would notice him if he made a noise. He couldn’t take any more attention. He didn’t think he’d survive more attention. God, that thought was almost enough to kill him. Once he would have done anything for his parents attention and now—

There was a hand in his hair. It was gentle.

Oh, he was crying.

“…going to be okay. We have you, Dandelion, and we’re not letting them touch you ever again. The two Reds will make sure it can never happen again. Once you’re better they’ll take a little road trip.”

That was… that wasn’t… a sob broke through Danny’s lips and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try.

He wasn’t there.

He could make noises.

He was safe.

“Danny? Hey, are you awake.”

Danny nodded as much as he could manage.

“Hey there,” Nightwing said, voice so kind that it just made Danny cry harder. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay, thank you for answering me Danny. How’s the pain? Um, squeeze my hand once if it’s okay, twice if it’s really bad.”

Danny squeezed it three times.

“Really, really bad, huh? Okay. Okay… we can give you some pain meds through your IV. We have you on a saline drip because you looked really bad. We didn’t want to give you any meds without your consent though. Are you alright with some pain medication? Once for yes, twice for no.”

One squeeze.

“Okay, let me go—”

Danny clung to Nightwing’s hand a tightly at he could. His breath stuttered around the glass.

“Not leaving, Dandelion. I’m going to text Red Robin, okay? He’s in the living room. Hood and B.B are out… running an errand. They’ll be back soon. I’ll text Red and he’ll bring the pain meds.”

Danny nodded. Nightwing shifted around, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. The breathing calmed, got easier. Danny let out a slow breath.

“Hey Danny,” a new voice said. “The medication will make you feel fuzzy and maybe disoriented. You’ll probably sleep a lot. We don’t want you to wake up panicked. Is there anything we can do to help you know you’re here with us and safe?”

“Bear,” Danny croaked. He wet his lips and tried to continue. “Smells that aren’t… Touch. Warmth.”

“Red will get your teddy bear as soon as the meds are hooked up and we’ll work on the other things. One of us will always be here with you,” Nightwing said.

Danny squeezed his hand again.

“Okay. We won’t leave you alone, Danny, we’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay.”

Danny trusted that.

It was surprising.

He didn’t think he could trust anymore, but Danny trusted that, trusted them.

The warmth of that thought followed him back into the black.

---

AN: This all Danny's fault, not mine! He decided to reveal his form early and then... welp.....

...Stay delightful, darlings?

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

[cherienymphe]

Like Mother, Like Daughter (Damon Salvatore x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, compulsion, blood, mentions of MURDER, abusive relationship, secret relationship, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies ​

summary: You never imagined that you would find solace in the bloodstained hands of a murderer.

~

“What is that?”

Elena’s concerned tone reached your ears as you worked on your assignment, and you curiously lifted your head. This semester was kicking your ass more than you’d anticipated, so you were hellbent on finishing as many assignments as quickly as possible. You paused your scribbling to follow her line of sight, and your own gaze landed on the dark bruise on your arm.

You blinked at it, silent for a moment before the memory came back to you.

“Oh,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t paying attention the other day and my arm got slammed in the door.”

You waved off her concern, reluctantly looking back down at the paper in front of you.

“I was trying to rush and carry a load of laundry in the door.”

The brunette didn’t respond to that, just humming, and you got the feeling that she was skeptical.

“You should probably put something on that…”

You looked up at her, meeting her eyes with a soft smile.

“Okay, mom, I will,” you chuckled.

You were a year older than Elena—a year older than most of your friends actually—but Elena always acted like she was the one older than you. Calling every day to see how school was going, reminding you to eat something when you got too invested in your work, telling you to bring a jacket whenever you went out with them. You loved her for it, especially since your own mom wasn’t around to do that, but sometimes you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Make fun of me all you want, but it just looks serious is all,” she told you.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” you replied, sending her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be gone by next week, anyway.”

Before she could say anything else on the matter, her doorbell rang. Your smile grew as her face lit up, and you shook your head to yourself. You weren’t going to fault her for being so head over heels for Stefan Salvatore. He was handsome and sweet and the kind of boyfriend that any girl would ask for.

“Do you want anything from The Grill?” she asked you, sliding her arms into her jacket as she stood.

“No, thank you.”

You only spared her a brief glance, eager to finish your work as you heard her answer the door. Her excited greeting was cut short, however, and you lifted her head at her sigh. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the irritated tone wasn’t hard to miss, and you were unsurprised when a familiar dark-haired man rounded the corner, food dish in hand.

Now, it was your turn for your face to light up, unable to bite back the smile that fell over your lips.

Damon Salvatore struck you as one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen from the first moment he’d breezed into town. He was the opposite of Stefan in almost every way, and you hadn’t blamed a single girl for momentarily losing her sense of self over the man. Looks aside, he was charming and funny and shockingly sweet when he wanted to be.

You wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.

As your train of thought shifted, you forced your smile to drop just in time for Stefan and Elena to round the corner. Damon could be difficult, you’d witnessed that yourself, and Elena, the girl who was like a sister to you, would never approve of you dating the oldest Salvatore. She swore he was the devil incarnate, but you thought that she worried too much.

The small smirk he threw you over their shoulders made your stomach twist.

“…and you just had to bring that by for the Founder’s Party today.”

Elena sounded less than enthused with his presence, halfheartedly telling him where he could set it. You kept your eyes on your homework, unable to ignore the tension in the air. You knew that he and Stefan didn’t get along, but you always felt like that was a sibling thing, something that Elena didn’t need to take on herself.

“He’s just not a good guy,” she’d told you one day when you asked about it, a look in her eyes that told you she wouldn’t be elaborating.

“Look, Damon, we really don’t have all day,” you heard Stefan breathe.

It was clear that they had no intention of leaving while Damon was still here, and you kept your head down.

“You two lovebirds go on ahead,” he told them, tone mirthful. “I need to talk to dear old Aunt Jenna about the Founder’s Party.”

You heard him take a bite of something Jenna had cooked earlier, the leftovers on the stove, and when you glanced up again, it was just in time to see Elena glance at you. She didn’t look the most enthused to just ‘go on ahead’, and her and Stefan exchanged a look.

“Alright… Y/N, you’re almost done, right?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that she just wanted to confirm you’d be leaving soon. Or more importantly, that you wouldn’t be in Damon’s presence for long.

“Yeah,” you reassured her. “Just two more essay questions to go.”

She nodded at that, glancing at Stefan’s brother one last time before reluctantly leaving. Stefan did the same, telling you they’d see you later before they both left. You straightened, heart skipping a beat as you smiled. You opened your mouth to speak when Damon held a finger up, slowly chewing with a tilt of his head, almost like he was listening…waiting.

“God,” he dramatically dragged out after some time. “I thought they’d never leave.”

You couldn’t hold in your chuckle, and you watched him as he slowly made his way to the table.

“You like riling them up,” you accused.

“Me?” he wondered, touching his chest as he neared you. “…and why would I ever do a thing like that?”

Damon bent over you, slowly and torturously, before his nose touched yours. Your grin widened just as his lip brushed yours, a kiss soon to follow. His fingers brushed your own as he rested his hand on the table, and your lashes fluttered when he deepened the kiss. You’d only been seeing Damon for a few months, but oddly enough, it felt like forever.

It scared you sometimes how strong your feelings were for the oldest Salvatore brother.

They seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Sill choosing collegiate duties over me?” he murmured into your mouth, and you pulled away.

“I have to get this done,” you sadly told him. “I only have the weekend to do it, and a good four hours of that is spent driving home and then back to school.”

You returned your eyes to the paper in front of you just as you felt Damon’s finger trail across your neck.

“I thought you needed to speak with Jenna about the party,” you murmured, a smile on your lips.

“I lied,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “You’re way too smart for college if you ask me. Highly overrated.”

You blinked up at him with a frown as he made himself comfortable on the edge of the table.

“You went to college?”

There was some disbelief in your voice, and for good reason, it seemed.

“I’ve been on a college campus, yes,” he answered, arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t hold in a laugh at that.

“I’m serious. You have to drive back and forth every weekend just to see me, and I don’t like it.”

There was little humor in Damon’s voice, now, and you gave him a small frown.

“That’s not always true,” you argued. “Sometimes you come to see me.”

He didn’t join in when you chuckled at your bad attempt at humor, and your brows knitted together at the feel of his hand on the place where your neck and shoulder met. He gently kneaded into the skin there, and you slowly looked up at him again. Damon’s expression was serious, pink lips pressed together as he looked between your eyes.

“I miss you when you’re away…”

Guilt ate at you.

“I know,” you whispered. “I miss you too.”

Damon’s tongue darted between his lips, and you watched as he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with a look you couldn’t place. The air between you felt odd…off, and Damon heaved a sigh before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead.

“You’re kidding, right?”

You softly exhaled, pointedly keeping your eyes on your suitcase as you unpacked. You made the mistake of glancing up, meeting Bonnie’s worried gaze as she sat on your bed before her eyes flickered up to Elena over your shoulder.

“I really don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

“You come back to Mystic Falls in the middle of the week unannounced, and when we ask what’s up, you say you’re dropping out of college…and we’re not supposed to question that?”

Elena sounded beside herself, and you ignored them both as you moved to hang some clothes up.

“Y/N!”

“What do you want me to say?” you wondered, facing them both with a frown, throwing your hands up. “It just didn’t feel right, okay? The campus, my major, all of it. I just didn’t feel right being there.”

You noted how robotic your words came out, but it was the truth.

“Plus, the driving back and forth was getting to be too much. I missed being home all the time.”

“Maybe you’re just going through a rough patch,” Bonnie told you. “It happens, but that’s no reason to drop out.”

“I already did,” you argued, grabbing more stuff out of your suitcase. “It’s done.”

Fed up, the straight-haired girl made her way over to you. She roughly grabbed your hands, halting your movements as she forced you to face her. Elena’s eyes were wide and confused as she looked at you, as if trying to see inside of your mind.

As if she didn’t believe you.

“You hear how crazy this sounds, don’t you? This isn’t like you!”

You pulled your hands out of her grip, huffing and continuing to unpack. You could feel both of their eyes on you, and it was hard to ignore, you had to admit.

“What does your dad think about this?”

You hesitated, pausing in your efforts, and you bit your lip.

“I haven’t told him,” you slowly admitted.

“Since when do you hide anything from him?” Bonnie whispered. “You tell your dad everything.”

“Well, I didn’t tell him this,” you heard yourself snapping.

Silence filled the room again as you went back and forth between your suitcase and the closet, taking clothes out and hanging them up. You could tell that Bonnie and Elena were beside themselves, unsure of how else to proceed with this sudden development. You were only glad that Caroline wasn’t here, positive that you would never hear the end of it.

You were halfway to your closet when Elena stopped you again, her hand on your wrist.

You turned to look at her, but her gaze wasn’t on you. At least, not on your face. Her brown eyes were focused on your wrist, and you looked down, frowning in confusion as to what she was looking at. Her lips parted, a deep frown on her face as she blinked at your wrist. When she lifted her gaze again, there was something in her eyes that alarmed you. She looked almost…worried.

“Where is your bracelet?”

That was the last thing you’d expected, and the question threw you.

“What?”

“Your bracelet. The bracelet I gave you a year ago. The one you promised you’d never take off, where is it?”

You wracked your brain, struggling to remember the last time you saw it. You’d worn it so much that the mere sight of it was inconsequential to you, something you just happened to run your eyes over every day. You hadn’t even realized that it was gone, and you realized that it’d actually been months since you at least remembered looking at it, let alone wearing it.

“I must have…lost it somewhere,” you admitted. “It’s either here or back in my dorm, I don’t know. I have to go back tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff, so I’ll look for it then.”

Elena looked like she wanted to say more, her features pinched in concern, and you went back to unpacking before she could say anything more. You hoped that you’d gotten your point across that the school discussion was over, relieved when they didn’t press the issue further. You’d hear enough lecturing from your dad, you didn’t need it from your friends either.

Damon was the only one happy for you.

“If it didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel right,” he agreed hours later.

Your dad had long gone to bed in anger and confusion, reacting just as you expected he would. You hadn’t hesitated to invite Damon inside when he showed up at your house, leading him upstairs. His hands massaging into your shoulders as you told him you weren’t going back.

“You were right. The going back and forth was exhausting, and seeing you for a few hours every week just wasn’t cutting it.”

Damon’s hand was rubbing patterns into your lower back as he lounged across your bed. You sat on the edge, staring at the window.

“It really wasn’t,” the dark-haired man drawled. “…but now…”

He dragged the word out, pulling you back until you were lying down next to him.

“I can have you all to myself.”

Your back met the bed, and Damon raised himself on an elbow to gaze down at you. You smiled at the thought, Damon slowly returning it with a small curve of his own lips. He ran his blue eyes over you, drinking you in as one hand came up to drag a finger across your mouth. He pulled down on your bottom lip, and you knew what he wanted, parting them for him, and you watched the way his eyes dilated at the sight of the tip of his finger slipping inside.

The look on his face had heat twisting deep within your gut, and Damon deeply inhaled before leaning in. His tongue replaced his finger when his mouth met yours, lips moving against yours in a way that made your head spin and toes curl. Damon’s hands found a home on your waist, fingers pressing into you as he dragged them down your frame.

“You smell so good, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

He rested perfectly between your legs, and you parted them further to accommodate him. He made a humming sound, like he liked that, and your fingers threaded through his dark strands. Your lips parted when his mouth found a place on your neck, leaving kisses over your skin. You were an adult, now, but having sex in your childhood home with your dad right down the hall was pretty bold…and disrespectful.

“Damon,” you breathlessly murmured.

He gently shushed you, leaning back until his nose brushed yours. Your lashes fluttered, and you swallowed as one of his hands rested on your cheek. His blue gaze held yours, and after some time, it was like that was all you could see. Blue filled your vision…until it didn’t, replaced by black, and your whole body sagged underneath his, more relaxed than you’d ever been. Every single thought in your head was put on halt, taking the backburner with one thought above all else.

You wanted to feel every single part of Damon against you.

The thought guided your movements, a drive within you now to get his shirt off. When he kissed you again, you were the one to deepen it, pressing your fingers against his smooth skin. When your shorts came off, Damon rolled you both until you were on top of him. You were breathless when he pulled your shirt off, and he was quick to pull you back down into a kiss once it was.

A low moan escaped your lips when he pressed open mouth kisses to your neck, forcing your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers brushing along his skin as his other hand rested on your hip, rolling them against his. Your heart was racing, blood pumping, and you flinched at the sharp pain you felt in your neck.

Liquid fire coursed through your veins soon after, and you could feel yourself trembling on top of him. His fingers pressed into the back of your neck, and your other hand rested on the one on your hip. It was like a current traveling up your body, steadily moving to one place, and when Damon rolled you both back over, you couldn’t get him inside of you fast enough.

You didn’t even mourn the loss of your underwear.

Your back arched when Damon’s hips connected with yours, his cock fitted snuggly inside of you. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed as he lifted your lower half, holding you tight enough to bruise as he pulled out before thrusting back into you. Your hands reached up towards your headboard, nails scraping along the wood while Damon fucked you.

Your neck was on fire, but you paid it no mind, too preoccupied with the fire between your legs instead. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the way Damon fucked you, moving your body whichever way he pleased, whichever way suited him and his needs. He treated you like a ragdoll, and you loved it, welcoming the pain and the pleasure.

One of his hands curled around your neck, and you gasped, grasping onto his arm as he leaned his head down. A pinch on your chest, and then you were floating again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer if that were possible. Damon groaned into your skin, and one of your hands lowered to his hair, twisting your fingers in his locks and holding him to you.

“Damon,” you sighed.

You felt so stretched when he was inside of you, so full, and the feel was addicting. Your hips were lowered back down to the bed, Damon’s teeth still in you, and his hands danced up your frame and to your arms. He grabbed onto them, stretching them out along your bed, fingers dancing over your skin before meeting your own hands, intertwining them with yours.

You were so glad that you didn’t have class in the morning.

The feel of the heated mug warmed your hands, fighting off the biting cold that threatened to overtake you. Caroline’s chatter was a comforting buzz in your ear, but it was background noise at most. Your gaze was focused on nothing, staring ahead with your mind a million miles away. The scarf around your neck was soft, and you absentmindedly reached up to touch it.

“Are you listening?”

It took you a moment to realize that she was talking to you, and you blinked. You looked around, noting that three familiar pairs of eyes were all on you. Guiltily, you frowned, realizing that you had in fact not been paying attention. Caroline looked slightly irritated while Bonnie was staring at you in concern. Elena’s countenance was no different.

“What?” you eventually said.

“Sleepover…at Elena’s…Bonnie’s birthday…?”

You blinked in shock, in disbelief that the date was fast approaching, and you’d forgotten.

“Right, I’m sorry, yeah. I’ll bring the cupcakes,” you told them.

“Are you okay?” Caroline suddenly asked, concern bleeding into her own eyes, now. “You just seem so off lately.”

You looked down at that, no need to look up and confirm that Bonnie and Elena were no doubt in agreement. Ever since you’d dropped out of college, they’d been crowding around you more than usual. Trying to drop by every day—something you almost always had to refuse due to Damon’s presence right upstairs—inviting you along with every outing and even subtly bringing school up in the conversation.

“Yeah,” you eventually told her. “Just tired.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You were tired, you had been pretty often lately, lasting for a day or two at a time before you felt normal again. Caroline seemed to accept that, nodding with a furrow between her brows just as Elena reached into her purse.

“Hey, since you never found your bracelet, I decided to get you a new one…”

You frowned at both her words and the sight of her placing a small jewelry box on the table. Your heart sank at the sight, and you were shaking your head before she finished talking.

“I don’t want anymore jewelry,” you told her to which she frowned.

Elena studied you, tilting her head.

“…but I’m replacing your bracelet.”

She said it slowly, like your words confused her as much as they confused you. You loved jewelry. All of your friends knew that about you, but as you stared at the box, there was a pressing thought in your mind that you didn’t want any more jewelry.

Especially from Elena.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Your phone vibrated in your pocket before anything else could be said, and you looked down at it. A smile graced your face as you read the text, and you carefully started to grab your things.

“I actually have to go,” you told them, gaze resting on Elena. “I appreciate the gift though.”

You were unsurprised when footsteps were quick to echo yours on your way to the door. A familiar voice calling your name gave you pause, and you turned to face Elena, gaze questioning. Her eyes were full of so many things she wanted to say, but she looked like she didn’t even know where to start.

“What’s going on with you?”

You slowly shook your head.

“I don’t follow…”

She rolled her eyes, head tilted.

“You dropped out of college, you barely spend time with us —and when you do you’re barely here—and you’re always running off at a moment’s notice. Now, you won’t even take the bracelet I’m trying to give you? That bracelet was really important-.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I lost it-.”

“No, you don’t get it,” she sighed. “It’s not about you losing it. It’s just really important that you wear it.”

“Why?” you wondered, and that seemed to have stumped her.

Elena ran her hands through her hair, blowing out a breath before coming up short. Her dark eyes lingered on the scarf around your neck, and she stared at it for what felt like too long. Unsure as to what was happening, you turned towards the door.

“Look, if that’s it, I really have to go-.”

“Is that new?”

She was referring to your scarf, and without thinking, you clutched it, tightening it around your throat.

“No,” you told her. “I’ve had it for a while, now. I’ve just never…”

You trailed off when she moved closer, a deep frown on her face as she leaned in.

“What are you doing?”

She paused at your tone, eyes boring into your own, and something passed through her eyes that made you take another step back.

“Take it off,” she suddenly said, voice but a whisper.

“No,” you told her. “I can’t.”

Your words gave her pause, and her eyes widened slightly at what you said specifically. Her hand lowered, and she ran her eyes over you.

“Why not…?”

Now, it was your turn to pause, mind going a mile a minute as you realized…you didn’t know why not.

“I…don’t know. I just know I can’t take it off,” you whispered.

She looked stricken at your words, although you didn’t understand why, and you watched her swallow.

“Y/N, don’t-.”

“I have to go, Elena,” you hurried out, pushing against her hands as she tried to stop you.

You were quick in making your way to your car, not sparing her a backwards glance as you hopped in. Damon’s text was fresh in your mind when you started the vehicle, not wanting to keep him waiting.

You stared into the foggy mirror, eyes roaming over the bite marks on your skin. Damon was just stepping out of the shower behind you, and you paid him no mind, fingers lightly tracing the bruising. Deep within the recesses of your mind, you knew that this was wrong, that the sight before you was very wrong, but you felt nothing less than calm as Damon came up behind you.

“What’ya doing?” he wondered, almost singing the question as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Looking,” you murmured.

“Well, stop that,” he lightly demanded, gently brushing your hand aside.

Damon leaned his chin on your shoulder, humming as he looked at you in the reflection.

“They healed fast before…right?” you softly asked, knowing they had before.

“I gave you my blood before,” was his answer, and you nodded. “I like seeing them.”

Your eyes met his in the reflection as his confession reached your ears. Now, it was his turn to brush his fingers over them, blue eyes darkening the longer he stared at the bite marks and bruises.

“It’s like a mark, you know?” he said in a small voice. “My mark.”

He turned his head, pressing his lips to your neck.

“I really hate sneaking around in your house, you know.”

You frowned at his words.

“Well, the alternative would be the boarding house…and you said I couldn’t tell anyone about us…”

You reminded him of that, turning around in his arms to face him. Damon blinked at the reminder, eyes rolling towards the ceiling as he thought hard.

“Hmm. I did say that, didn’t I?”

He pursed his lips, stroking your face and drinking you in. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his face, enjoying the sight of it and him. Damon seemed to notice, smirking to himself as he leaned in to gently kiss you.

“Yeah, well…that was before, and now you’re mine and you’re not in college anymore, so you can come and live with me.”

His tone was chipper despite the severity of what he was suggesting, and your eyes widened.

“My dad would kill me,” you breathed.

Damon exhaled, a small smile on his pink lips as his hands came down on your bare shoulders. He traced patterns into your skin with his thumbs, and you felt yourself relaxing as you held his gaze.

“You leave your dad to me…okay?”

You slowly nodded, not quite sure why you were agreeing. You were so young, and Damon and you were too new to be moving in together. It seemed insane, but you felt okay with the decision as he brushed his fingers over your face.

“I just worry about him,” you confessed. “Ever since my mom’s death… He’s just always so alone.”

Damon frowned at you at that, blue gaze sympathetic,

“It’s been what…? Twelve years now?”

You didn’t recall ever telling him how long it had been, but you nodded, anyway, heart clenching at the faint memories of a woman you barely got to know. His arms were secure around you as he assured you that everything would be alright. You didn’t doubt that. After all, when it came to Damon, you had perfect love and perfect trust.

Damon had breezed into your life like the wind, and now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. You knew that Elena—none of your friends really—would approve, and you were wholly prepared to never hear the end of it once you moved in together. They would freak out, but Damon had never been anything but good to you.

He never hurt you when he bit you, and the bruises were only from him holding you too tight in bed. He’d been right to suggest dropping out of college. It had been taking up so much time, and you really did hate going back and forth. Something in the far back of your mind was telling you that Damon having so much control over you and your life was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

Especially when he kissed you so passionately and held you so tightly.

Damon touched you like he didn’t ever want to let you go, and you loved it. You loved the feel of his lips on your skin, of his fingers around your ankles, and of his teeth in you. You couldn’t help but to trace the veins that appeared beneath his eyes at the very thought of tasting you. Nothing made you happier than letting him sink his teeth into your thigh while you writhed on your bed, fingers tightly twisting into his dark strands.

There was something entirely other about being a source of satisfaction for Damon in more ways than one.

It was why you weren’t listening to a word Elena said as you packed up your car.

“He is compelling you,” she stressed, eyes wide and tearful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“Elena, please…”

“You would never just drop out of school! Did he give you that bruise too? The one on your arm?”

“Leave it alone,” you told her, slamming your door closed.

She prevented you from rounding the car, hand tight on your arm. Elena looked terrified as she studied you, taking in the circles beneath your eyes no doubt.

“How long?”

She seemed to be wondering to herself rather than talking to you.

“How long since you ‘lost’ that bracelet? How long since you haven’t been wearing vervain and Damon’s been feeding off of you-?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pushed past her, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“No,” she argued, trying to pull you out of the car. “Y/N, you can’t. Let me call Stefan, and he’ll make you remember everything-.”

Her words were cut off with a loud gasp, and you sharply inhaled too. A familiar back was before you, Damon standing between you both, and you looked around his shoulder, watching as Elena took a few steps back. Her entire visage was clouded in anger, and she looked at Damon like he was the devil himself.

“What have you done to her?”

Damon tilted his head with a happy hum, reaching back to rest his hand on your waist. He half turned towards you, guiding you to get back in the car. You met Elena’s worried gaze, and she looked like she wanted to take a step towards you.

“What I do with Y/N is, quite frankly, none of your business.”

“Damon…”

He paused at the sound of your voice, briefly turning to look at you with a waggle of his brows.

“It’s alright,” he told you, briefly touching your chin. “I’m just politely telling Elena that our sordid love affair doesn’t involve her or Stefan or anyone else for that matter.”

“This isn’t love! You’re hurting her and keeping her with you against her will,” she spat at him. “What is wrong with you, Damon? Why…? Why her when she’s done nothing to you?”

You grew nervous when Damon grew silent. He took a few steps towards Elena, and when he spoke, his voice was cold, venomous, nothing at all like how he sounded with you in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I wanted her…and so I took her,” he plainly told your friend, and you frowned. “Diagnose me as a killer returning to the scene of the crime or a lovesick fool, pick your poison, but she is mine, and I’ll be damned if I give her up.”

Something about what he said—or how he said it—had Elena’s lips parting, and she stumbled back, looking between you and him in horror. Before either of you could blink though, Damon had closed your door and was already sitting in your passenger seat. Elena was banging on the locked door as he told you to drive, and gazing into his eyes, you were overcome with the urge to do what he suggested.

You slid down onto his cock again, a moan escaping you as Damon’s arms circled your waist. Blood ran down your torso, excess escaping Damon’s mouth as his teeth pressed into your chest. One of his hands came up to smear it along your skin, loving the feel of it against his own skin. You felt like you were floating on cloud 9, fingers tightening in his hair, your other hand pressing into his shoulder.

You hadn’t left Damon’s room in days, having no desire to. All you wanted was to stay in his bed, and Damon was all too happy to let you. Your phone had long been out of sight, none the wiser to any calls and texts you might’ve missed. You didn’t know what Damon said to your dad to make him over the moon with the idea of you moving in with the older Salvatore brother, but you were beyond grateful.

If any of your friends had ever come by, you didn’t know.

You were in your own world with just you and Damon, and you couldn’t be happier. When you came around him, shuddering with broken moans escaping, Damon finally pulled his head away. His lips were covered in blood, and before where the sight of it used to make your stomach turn, you felt no ill will at the red along his lips. You touched his mouth, fascinated by the sight.

He opened his mouth, and when a sharp tooth pricked your finger, fresh blood touching his tongue, he flipped you.

Your chest arched upwards towards the ceiling, nails clawing at the sheets of the feel of him thrusting into you again. His teeth were in your neck, pinning you between him and the bed, and you couldn’t hold in your mewls.

“You taste…divine,” he breathed sloppily kissing you. “Do you know that?”

You weren’t bothered by the taste of blood in your mouth, always so calm and at ease in Damon’s presence. As he lazily plunged his cock into you, thrusts slow and languid, a thought passed through your mind that you couldn’t help but to voice.

“Are you… Are you going to kill me one day?”

You knew what he’d told Elena, and the thought didn’t scare you, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“Kill you?” he lowly wondered, kissing you again. “…and ruin all my fun?”

He smiled into your lips, and you returned it.

“I meant what I said,” he told you, gazing into your eyes. “You’re mine, and I’ll be damned if I give you up.”

That reassured you, and you relaxed beneath him when another question plagued your thoughts. It must’ve been all over your face because Damon brushed his nose against yours.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he whispered, and you searched his eyes.

“When you said…”

You took a deep breath, confusion plaguing your thoughts as you fought to understand his words on your own.

“When you said…a killer returning to the scene of the crime…” Damon took a deep breath. “What did that mean?”

Damon didn’t answer you for what felt like a long time, and at first, you thought he simply wouldn’t. When he moved, you hissed at the feel, and he slowly grabbed your hands, pinning them beside your head. Damon gazed into your eyes, blue turning to black as it filled your vision, and you were completely frozen beneath him, feeling like you were under a spell.

“Twelve years ago…” he slowly started. “I ran into a woman whose car broke down on the side of the road.”

Somehow, you knew what he was going to say, and to your surprise, your heart wasn’t threatening to leap from your chest. You felt so calm, safe beneath him despite the tears that kissed your eyes.

“I killed her, and it meant nothing to me…”

You didn’t blink, and neither did he.

“…but then I came here twelve years later, and I never expected to meet her daughter…and call it guilt or some twisted desire to be a demented monster, but I want you all to myself.”

His hands tightened on your wrists.

“…and you want me too. You love me, and you have never felt safer than when you’re with me.”

“I always feel safe with you,” you mindlessly murmured, your voice sounding foreign to you.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

“…and you would kill yourself before ever letting anyone take you away from me.”

His deep baritone settled in your brain like a warm hug, and you slowly nodded. Learning that Damon killed your mom should’ve terrified you, but he was right. You never felt safer than when you were with Damon, and when he leaned in to kiss you, his lips covering yours, you welcomed it. He slowly let your hands go, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap them around his neck, holding him close.

Your blood was on his lips, and the sight warmed your heart, happy to make Damon happy.

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagine #tvd imagine #damon salvatore fanfiction #tvd fanfiction

[majosullivan]

Nevermore Dashboard Simulator

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can we all agree to stop making jokes about each other’s deaths? Making light of someone’s death even as a joke is really gross

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

No I was murdered so I can reclaim it

85,958 notes

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Okay but can someone tell me how posts here are getting so many notes? There’s like around 100 people at the academy and I’m frequently seeing posts with well over 1,000 notes. Like, it would be one thing if these posts were years old but some of them are from 2 days ago. Did I just miss the memo and everyone here has at least 10+ accounts, like WHERE are you guys coming from?

👻 hourofsecrecy Follow

Can the spirits not show their appreciation for people’s commentery? Can the creatures of the night not find humour in wits and gists of others? What is the difference from the newly departed and the Unseen Ones?

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Absolutely horrific answer, thank you for your time

26,496 notes

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Tell me why it’s around eight in the morning and the first thing I see while heading to the dining hall is Lenore PINING Annabel Lee AGAINST A WALL

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

�� conqueror-of-worms Follow

Care to clarify who the hell you were referring to in this post?

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Yes

3,270 notes

🎈 floatinghoax Follow

After everything the afterlife could have been, you’re telling me that I have to go to SCHOOL and have CLASSES that start at 9AM? Truly tempted to walk straight into the wasteland, there’s only so much a second chance at life is worth

#not to mention with have fucking ROOMMATES #this academy is MASSIVE #you’re telling me there isn’t enough room for single rooms in this place?

7,984 notes

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

I’m curious, who do you guys think you could take in their spectre forms?

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

IN A FIGHT

69,285 notes

🎶 decomposingmusic Follow

You’re not about to manifest your spectre, you’re just dehydrated

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

out of the way gay boy i’m boutta separate myself from my remaining moral ties and embrace the abilites of my spiritual form

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

nures rom

173,032 notes

🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow

do you think the Deans wake up every day, take one look at us before telling Ms. Poppet ‘PUT THOSE BEASTS IN SITUATIONS!’

2,396 notes

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Does anyone know if Duke and Pluto (the two boys friends with Lenore) are an item or not? Cause any time I’ve seen them interact, Duke has consistently referred to Pluto as Mon Minou (my kitten in french) and I’m not sure if the two of them are together or if they’re just…Like That

🌃 eveningstar Follow

UPDATE: SO IT TURNS OUT PLUTO DIDN’T KNOW WHAT MON MINOU MEANT AND FOUND OUT THROUGH MY POST. HIM AND DUKE HAVE BEEN BICKERING ABOUT IT ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE DORM ROOMS

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Despite what you would think would occur from this development, none of this has answered by original question

#I was just curious if these two were gay or just European #by all accounts they might be both

6,974 notes

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

I think I’m about half with through the manor right now? Honestly this lesson is going much better than I expected!

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS R&)26?83@/$

5,052 notes

☔️ dew-dropped-nights Follow

[about to be eaten by one of the monsters in the Teraphobia trial] okay but do you think I’m cute? Be honest

4,824 notes

🪐 eureka Follow

Do you think that Annabel Lee and Lenore have ever explored each others bodies

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can you fucking not do this? Not only are they real people, they’re our classmates and clearly can’t stand each other. Stuff like this is weird and gross

🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow

I bet they fucked nasty up at the widow’s watch

🥂 drinking-into-the-grave Follow

This is actually how Lenore won the Mystery Manor lesson

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Sometimes that butch pussy gets you acting unwise

🏵️ pendulum-in-the-pit Follow

THAT

WHAT

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

What’s not clicking

29,496 notes

#nevermore #webtoon nevermore #nevermore webtoon #dashboard simulator #fake tumblr post #fake tumblr dash #white raven #lennabel #lenore x annabel lee #annabel lee x lenore

[jenomov]

tape 001. (l.jn + 00z line)

wc: 1.9k

“c’mon man, it’s my turn to choose the movie, it was your turn last week!” haechan groaned, slightly pushing jaemin.

“fine, but we’ll use renjun’s laptop this time, since a certain someone broke mine last week.” he turns back to haechan, rolling his eyes. “hey fuck you dude, i told you it was an accident alread-“

“no way! i have an essay coming up, i’m using it as soon as i finish this.” renjun yelled, from the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. “use jeno’s or something, he’s not here anyway.”

“are you crazy?” jaemin yelled back. “there’s private stuff on there!! and he only shares his laptop with his girlfriend.”

“so what?” haechan laughed. “he probably privates all his stuff anyway, you know how he is. plus, he has a bunch of movies in a file he keeps for us” — he gets up, fixes his hair before going into jeno’s room. “so i’ll go get it.”

a few minutes after looking for the device, haechan comes back to the living room, sitting between jaemin and renjun, opening the laptop. groaning, he’s met with a lockscreen, asking for a password.

“see, i told you we should’ve used renjun’s laptop, jeno’s too private man, i can’t even get in myself.” jaemin sighs, facing haechan. “where’s your laptop anyway?” he questions.

“mark has it, and he won’t be back until tomorrow.” he says typing on the keyboard, thinking of the right password.

“dude stop trying shit, you’ll lock his laptop forever.” renjun grabs his arm, already annoyed. “let’s just use the tv.”

“hold on man, there’s a hint here”

⃣[who’s my best friend?]

“oh yeah, that’s easy, it’s obviously me!” jaemin laughed.

however, the three boys were all met with a “try again” sentence. confused, they tried you, renjun, haechan, and well, most of the members, all answers being wrong, until “mark” somehow unlocked the laptop, making them stare at the homescreen picture being you and jeno on some sort of vacation.

“what the fuck?” haechan and jaemin yelled at the same time. they looked at each other for a few seconds, feeling betrayed.

“well! guess i’ll need to talk to mark when he comes back to see who his REAL best friend is!” haechan faked wiping a tear off his face, while looking for jeno’s pirated movie file. “i’m pretty sure it would’ve been too easy if he chose jaemin man.” renjun added. “dude, jeno’s not scared of getting caught having all those downloaded movies?” renjun asked, “there’s a shit load of pirated clips in there…” he continues.

minutes pass by and the silence in the living room is sometimes broken by “no not that” and “we’ve already watched this”. even added by a “we can’t watch horror movies because renjun is scared of those”—

“hey fuck you man, atleast i’m not a psycho and watch murder stories videos all night like you jaemin” he scoffs.

“whatever fuckass let’s just do something else— “hey guys?” haechan speaks up, making the bickering between the other two stop. “i think we’ve found our movie for tonight.”

“jeno’s into weird movies? there’s no title— ouu it’s probably something dark- ow!” jaemin laughs out loud while renjun hits him in the arm.

haechan clicks on the video, curiosity getting the best of him.

“woah what are you doing?” renjun stops him, panic taking over. “what? he probably just forgot to put the title on it, it’s probably just a regular movie, like spider-man or some shit.”

renjun sits back down, pushing his two toned hair back, nervous. “alright. besides, maybe it’s a movie we haven’t watched yet, i’m sick of you guys watching scary movies.”

“okay jun, just press play, we wanna see what’s that about.” jaemin retorts.

the beginning of the video shows nothing weird of any sort, just a dimly lit room and a bed— that kind of looks like jeno’s. without paying any mind to the details, they keep watching.

“shit, i’ll be back, my phone’s ringing.” renjun gets up to the bathroom, excusing himself.

the video continues normally, the dead silence of the room gets cut off by giggles and heavy sighs, which made the boys question their choice of movie.

“dude is that fucking porn? i don’t wanna watch that shit.” jaemin takes the laptop in his hands, ready to press the back arrow when he suddenly stops his movements.

“what?” confused, haechan looks closely at the screen, face changing from confusion to shock. “wait, is that-“ he adds “uh… yeah, i think so” jaemin places the computer back on the small table, paying more attention to the clip they found just a minute ago.

you’re barely noticeable, the camera shows you laying on the bed, wrists tied up and gagged, drool dripping around the plastic ball. your legs are spread at your maximum; showing your used and bruised ass to the lens, black tape covering your cunt, making your asshole the only thing on display. the only sound they could hear was your whining and moaning. jaemin and haechan stare at your trembling figure, unable to keep their eyes away.

“i’m sorry baby, but bad girls don’t deserve to be properly fucked don’t they” they could hear jeno talk behind the camera, voice low and far from his usual tone. “seeing you flirt with my friends, i cant let that happen now can’t i?” you shook your head, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. he gets closer to you, angling the camera to get a closer look at your hole. you whine as you feel his index and middle fingers on your taped cunt, eyes begging for him to fuck you.

“hey sorry that took so long it was important — what the fuck are you guys watching??” renjun interrupts, looking at the screen.

“just—just sit down man.” haechan mutters. “i can’t let you horny fucks watch some por-“

“woah.” he stops.

renjun feels guilty for watching, but he’s fixed on the way your body is trembling in excitement, by the way your pretty face is covered in spit and dried tears, or by the way you’re whining softly, eyes fixed on jeno, being so obedient, despite the obscene scene the tape is showing him.

he’s never imagined or thought of you this way, but when he feels his pants tightening, he had to watch more.

they want to see you vulnerable.

jeno holds the back of your thighs, making you stop wriggling underneath him. “now won’t you be a good girl and take what i give you?” you nod frantically, body shaking. “good girl.” he gives you a kiss on your nose, then lines himself up to your rim.

your muffled moans and cries are the only thing heard in the room. the three boys are mesmerized by your expressions, haechan’s slowly pulling his underwear down as he strokes his own cock. “this is wrong, we—can you please put your dick away?” jaemin asks. “if he knows we’ve watched this it’s over.” he continues, facing the urge to join haechan in his pleasuring session.

you get dizzy as you feel jeno filling you up so nicely, never getting used to how big he is. you look at him with half opened eyes, tears slowly falling down your eyes, wrists hurting from the restraints.

“man, look at how well she takes his dick.” haechan confesses, his hand stroking his tip, groaning at the sight of you being ruined.

jeno grabs your ass, making him reach deeper inside you, each rough thrusts make you beg, trying to reach for his arms despite your restraints. your head falls back on the pillows, feeling yourself losing it more and more. he taps your cheek a few times before removing the ball from your mouth, strings of saliva connected from your lips to the plastic. “what a messy baby, am i making you feel good?” he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. the boys groan at your fucked up state, they have never heard a better sound other than your moans and begging.

“u-uh huh… more… pleasepleaseplease.” you mumble. you feel him everywhere. his weight on you, his hands on your thighs, forcing your legs open, his stare, his cock splitting your ass open. you feel like passing out. “more?” he scoffs. “me fucking your tight little ass isn’t enough? you’re just a greedy whore, always want to be stuffed full of cock is that it?” you nod over and over again, making him chuckle. you feel out of it, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you want more, you’re desperate for a release, but you know jeno won’t give you what you want so easily, besides, you broke his rules, right?

the boys wondered how it would feel to be inside you, it’s not like they haven’t thought of it, maybe except renjun, who was always so respectful of you and your relationship. at the back of his head, he still felt bad for watching, but today, his perspective of you changed, you were nothing but a filthy slut, who’d give any of her holes, just for the sake of pleasure.

you gasp when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, lightheaded from the previous actions of your boyfriend. “ass up.” is all he says as you obey, though struggling to keep your knees still, your legs shaking.

you feel jeno’s tip kiss your rim, as an indication that you’re not quite done being used yet. he positions the camera closer to your entrance as he slowly gets fully inside you, making you both sigh.

haechan is a mess, he’s getting closer to his release, while renjun tries to look away from the screen, forcing himself up to get water, he sighs uncomfortably at his tight shorts.

jaemin on the other hand, is so focused on you that he cums in his hand without realizing it.

“i have a big load for you angel, you’re gonna take all i give you right?” his thrusts get sloppier, he whines more and more feeling your tight hole milking him. “inside please.” is all that was needed before you feel his warm load inside your ass, crying into the pillow at the sensation.

the three boys groan at the sight of your abused hole, tape peeling off of your cunt, legs giving up making you almost fall before jeno picks your legs up, taking the camera to show your leaking hole. tsk.

“what an ungrateful little slut.” the name makes you look back at him, tears falling on your swollen face, “i’m sorry sir—” your fingers scoops the cum off your hole, bringing them to your mouth before releasing them with a slight ‘pop’. “is that better?” he slaps your ass making you yelp.

“good girl.”

“you’re gross haech, better hurry up before they come back and see your pervert ass on his computer.” renjun tells him, watching haechan run off to the bathroom, jeans barely on his legs.

jaemin wakes up from his daydream to his sticky hand, shaking his head before quickly pulling his pants off and head to his dorm.

renjun stares at the wall, feeling more guilty than ever, with a raging boner that he has yet to touch, when suddenly the door unlocks.

“shit.”

a/n: dialogue is so hard wtf…. part 2?

© jenomov do not repost/translate

#jeno lee #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #lee jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #nct #1k🎖️

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | Two | myg (m)

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

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

☾ Word Count: 21,443

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

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

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder

☾ Published: December 2, 2023

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“No, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of demon are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do not forget to practice every day. 

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

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

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

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

Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“Are both not possible?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“You will.” 

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

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

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

“I thought I was.”

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

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

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

“I don’t know how.” 

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

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

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

-

Tap tap tap. 

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

Tap tap tap. 

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

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

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

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

“Well, that is up for debate.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him. 

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting, obviously.”

“You can just… visit?” 

“I do what I want.” 

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

“Your window is open.” 

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

“So you came through the window?” 

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

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

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

“Show you around what?” 

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

“It wasn’t very good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out of my room and I will!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Then why don’t they?”

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Who?”

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

“You know Life? What are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“G-god of Light spare me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you look like that?” 

“How long has this place been here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And you felt drawn here?” 

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

“Strange.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

“Have you met - um - Death?” 

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

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

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

“By what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry. 

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

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

“They should not insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

You’re not looking forward to it again.

“What,” you pant, “was that?”

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

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

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

“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is this place?” 

“The Desert Rose.” 

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

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

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

“I’m a dream.” 

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

“What?” you finally ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

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

“Very clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance. 

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

“Is it?”

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

“That’s sort of comforting.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“His name is Jimin.” 

“That’s a pretty name.”

Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”

“Like me?”

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

“Fate, perhaps?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’m not nervous!”

“You definitely are.”

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

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

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

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

“It looks great.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see. And you want. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why not?”

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

“Oh. Surely there’s a way?” 

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

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

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

We could never be something. 

-

“I was starting to worry, you know?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to go to sleep.”

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

“You know what I mean.” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gross! Jimin!”

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

“You owe me a new shirt!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

But it feels so good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”

“Taehyung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You couldn’t have known.”

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

“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.” 

“Guardian?”

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth turns downward. “For what?”

“Saving me. Again.”

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

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

“Thank you for saying so.”

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

“Goodnight, little lamb.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“An easy fix.” 

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

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

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

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

Sleep takes you. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

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

“I thought you blamed yourself?”

“So I do. But yes - you.” 

“How do you want me to help?”

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

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

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

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

The House of Dreams is quiet. 

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

“What were you doing?”

“... Staring.”

“At?”

“The wall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?”

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

“Jimin?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know what to give?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just like the woods near your house -

Your house. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can do that?”

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

“A nightmare.”

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

“Good at what?”

“Being human.” 

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

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

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

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

“At what?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would love to.” 

Taehyung groans. “No, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never had a reason to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dancing? That is indulging?” 

“You might be surprised.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[inklessletter]

Autumn of 86. Robin is working at the most boring record store of all Hawkins to save up for escaping that hellhole where she lives in, where the weirdest shit happens all the time (kids coming back to life, classmates killed by chemical leaks, another gas leak that makes the mall blow up, a murderer from Pennhurst breaking free and going in a teenager killing spree, rumours of satanic cults...). Thank god she is working there with his best friend Eddie "love at first sight is an illusion" Munson, who makes her days less painful, and who, right now, is flirting with this all beaten up guy she has never seen before.

She wants to interrupt them, but the way they are talking it is so unlike Eddie. Staring, mildly blushing, soft voices and the strangest interaction going on there when he is purchasing the first cassette he grabs and he is not even paying attention to what he is buying because this new guy can't take his eyes off of Eddie. It even takes him a while to reply to Eddie when he asks him if he wants anything else.

Robin could swear that guy wanted to say something different from his actual answer. "No. No, yeah, that's–that's all. Thanks."

And Eddie half smiles, looks down. "Yeah. Great, here is your change, man. Enjoy your Christmas Carol tape."

"What? Oh, yeah. I will. I guess," and the guy smiles, and it looks painful because his lip is split. He bites his bottom lip and looks away. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

And they—they just stare.

It takes him a few seconds before he purses his lips, nods, and leaves the establishment. And what has Robin standing there, and not bashing at Eddie the second that guy closes the door after him is the fact that she could swear that this guy was... was about to cry.

And Robin is a lot of things, but above all she is curious.

And smart.

And she is stubborn enough to find her answers.

She indeed teases Eddie about him gaping at the guy like a mad man. And she expects pushback, she really does. Eddie always gives her some resistance of her teasing but when Eddie says "I don't know, Robs, I feel like I have seen him before," she believes him.

So Robin does what she does best and finds the guy.

She follows him for a while, and thinks she is doing a great job at the grocery store, following him from the end of the aisle, but she loses him for a second and runs to find him again. She runs into him him as soon as she turns the aisle, face to face.

"Sorry, hi," he says.

"Hi," Robin parrots.

And they stare at each other.

Robin is good reading people. She always has been. And she doesn't really know what she is seeing in this guy's eyes but whatever it is is warm. And familiar.

"Are you okay?" he asks. And she is a bit lost in her own thoughts to reply right away. It takes her ten seconds to realize that he was asking because they actually crashed against each other. They were so close. He was holding her by the elbows.

She immediately steps back.

"Yeah, sorry. I am so clumsy sometimes, my coordination is not what you may say, sharp," she explains rapidly and awkwardly.

And the guy smiles, and it is the kind of smile that reaches the eyes. And she smiles too.

"I bet you stand out for some other qualities," he chuckles. "You seem smart."

"I am. I think," she adds. She can't realize why she is so disoriented.

"My name is Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Robin Buckley."

And he does this thing with his face, almost like a flinch, a recognition. It is brief but it is there and Robin has seen it, and there is something so weird with him.

Steve drops his gaze, and the weirdness of this situation hits Robin. Why would someone introduce himself just by randomly crashing into someone in the grocery store? What was that familiarity feeling? Why couldn't she just let him go? She followed him there, for fuck's sake.

"Do I know you?" she asks.

Steve just looks at her again, and stares. There is this gleam in his pupils, eyes almost wet, and Robin could swear that it looked so much like hope. For what, she doesn't know.

"I don't think so," and his words sound like a lie.

"Oh. I am–I am sorry, um, this is weird. It's just that I—I have this—"

"Gnawing feeling?" Steve finished.

And yes, that was exactly what she wanted to say.

There is something that Robin feels like it's trapped in the air. Something strange and beautiful, and caged somewhere, fighting with all its forces to break free, but she can't identify it.

"It's okay," he says. "It'll go away. It always does."

Steve smiles at her and it is sad. Robin is starting to get mad, and weirdly emotional and she doesn't know where it comes from and it's infuriating not to know. Her voice kind of wobbles when she speaks again.

"You speak like a total dingus."

Steve laughs. Suddenly and bright and honest, and she laughs too.

"I do. Yeah, I do."

Something is off, but it feels so right. Robin just can't place it. And it must shows in her face because Steve says, "it's okay."

And it is how he says it, like he knows what she is going through, but how could he possibly know.

"See you around, Buckley," he says, so affectionate that aches to hear.

He leaves her there, standing in the middle of the aisle, organizing her own thoughts.

Facts: she knows him. Her body, her heart, her soul reacted at his presence, that much is true. Eddie knows him too. But they just can't remember him.

So many questions, so may things to discover.

Robin smiles.

Robin is a lot of things, but above all, she is curious.

And smart.

And stubborn enough to find her answers.

#inklessletter #fic #stranger things fic #fanfic #ficlet #robin buckley #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #st fic

[trashmunson]

Boyfriend Eddie who is enthusiastic about his love for (going down on) reader, but shy. ((A/N: I’m aware it wasn’t released until 1990 but music makes me creative and it screams Eddie Munson.))

“Is there a song that reminds you of me?”

Your question was innocent, as far as Eddie knew, but the answer he had couldn’t have been further.

Since the moment he’d tasted you, on his own fingers after stroking your clit and fingering you through at least two orgasms before he couldn’t stop himself from indulging. That moment, your cum on his tongue, there’d only been one song he thought of when people asked Eddie about you.

“Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry.” Cherry Pie by Warrant

“No.”

“Nothing, really?” Eddie heard the disappointment and wanted to ease it, would have even if it wasn’t his fault. “Well there’s-“ he’s laughing already, nervous at what he wants to admit and it’s intriguing, obviously. “So there is something.”

“Of course there is but it’s not what you want to be told, sweetheart.”

“Spit it out, babe. Unless it’s a murder confession, I’m sure I’ll like it. Play it, if that’s better.”

“Cherry Pie. The Warrant song. You like it,” he starts humming it, tapping the beat on his legs, then the lyrics.

“She’s my cherry pie

cool drink of water

such a sweet surprise…

tastes so good,

Make a grown man cry

Sweet cherry pie.”

You look at him, recognizing the song as soon as he started and finding humor in the lyrics he remembered. You recognize it because Eddie is always humming it, listening to it, using his pencil while writing to tap it onto his desk.

“Interesting…” you hum, and Eddie’s in misery at your lack of reaction. “Play it for me?” Pointing to the stereo instead of his guitar on the wall; you have plans for his hands.

——————————————————————-

How soon after the record is spinning is Eddie in your arms, between your legs, was pretty spectacular given his usual finesse outside the bedroom. “Can I help with anything?” Blown pupils looking down at you before he’s grinding his teeth when his hips drop to yours. Its habit, dragging your core over the tent in his jeans. He closes his eyes, unable to look at you and prevent himself from cumming in his pants because shit he can feel how hot you already are, probably throbbing for him. He hates to leave his girl uncomfortable, so Eddie takes your hips in his hand, his rings wringing the fabric of your shirt up your hips, wanting to see your skin. Anything he could get with all these clothes on. Keeping the weight of his hips on you, Eddie rocked forward and waited for- there. You gasp, pulling him closer by the shoulders. You’re pinned beneath him, and he’s managed to not only target your clit through all your clothes but is now intent on using it solely to get you off. If solely included the absolute filth that Eddie always talked when you gave him the privilege of letting him touch you. Every day, he thanks every deity he can think of for you. Sometimes, he does it while you’re praising him like a god, and he wonders if it’s blasphemous.

“That feel nice, baby?” You whine and Eddie hums, music to his ears before he’s kissing your throat. Hot breath and nasty words pushing you closer to orgasm.

“I can tell, you’re already whining like you’re ready to cum. Still got all your clothes on, baby. It’s okay, sh… I’ve got you.”

“Eddie…” he’s right, you are whining, but he was on top of you, grinding his cock right into your sex, completely clothed, and he expected anything less?

“Patience, sweetheart, I always take care of you, don’t I?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson #trashmunson #eddie Munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader