#someone stopped to talk about persona for while too :D

[thatlittledandere]

Cosplayed Marie at a convention today and so many people recognized her and even asked for photos aaaaaah!! It's never happened to me that many times a day before! :D

[hehearse]

hello tumblr user hehearse. another ask BUT this time its NOT torturous song associations! i would just like to ask if you have specific thoughts on jinjae. because theyre SO fucking weird abt each other and they have me in a grip. i would like to know your thoughts on them ^^

GASP branching out aren't we? :D

i think they are incredibly fun. and horrible in their own way.

i love the fact that shj is NOT under yoojin's key word effect and he is Just Like That TM. bear with me for a sec. i was having yet another ted talk with dearest achro juuust recently about them, SO THERE ARE SOME HALF COHERENT THOUGHTS READY

i like how shj being the adult and not under the keyword effect gives some. agency in a way. so you know how yoohyun gets all the love despite him being the way he is. for the price of him moulding his entire being around yoojin? or more like HE decides THAT is the price and the only context for the love to be deserved and a fair trade so to speak. when he breaks the mould, he does not lose the privilege of being loved. he was chosen when he was that way to begin with. and anyway, yoojin gives so much leeway to yoohyun even in the frame of his views on good and bad - because love runs deep, and there are many things he'll let slide or let go, as long as yoohyun - and other kids - are happy.

but shj is an adult, not yoojin's kid. might sound obvious but. that gives him agency to fuck up his relationship with yoojin, and he actively chooses not to do it when he moves to the "partner" stage!! (because hyunje very clearly was feeling out the boundaries in the beginning, wasn't he? pushing and pushing and poking the rot until yoojin cracked. and what a surprise that was huh. huh, shj?? he stopped after that. the lines established (by him) and he was not. entirely happy about what he saw, even if incredibly intrigued)

additionally. there is something to say about the playful lines they draw. yoojin has his pride and wants to at least APPEAR strong even when he is struggling. and in places where yoohyun or yerim would fluster him with excessive care and worry, shj gives him enough space to pretend for a bit. even if they both know he's lying. he lies himself too, to save yoojin his pride, doesn't he? the "ah, it's just my whims" attitude? isn't it easier to accept the lavish gifts and such when it's not personal? might just use since he is clearly an eccentric rich s class, right? (that shoots them both in the foot with yoojin feeling insecure, like shj can drop him at any point in time, but that's different story)

plus! plus!! the thrill of biting back at someone so powerful. the excitement of toying with the guy everyone feels threatened by. ^^ (and of course the fun of peeling of perfect appearance and seeing this sung hyunje who doesn't eat bread crusts, likes fishing and being annoying and playing into jokes and is SO good at it he catches on instantly, just give him an opening. a secret persona. makes you feel special, doesn't it?)

while love for yoojin seems natural (oh yoojin. the most guy ever. gah.), sung hyunje too. makes adjustments to win points. like with him treating yerim seriously, him taking in account yoohyun's possessiveness when proposing giving only one of his eyes to blind yoojin (because you know. yoohyun would be unhappy if he didn't get a chance to give his eye to his hyung. and he is his hyung's number one. so shj can't not take it into account - he likes his place number two after all).

ANYWAY. i think yoojin needs an Adult TM who won't necessarily break apart without him. but who would still like to have him around and let yoojin bully him a bit as a treat. and sung hyunje needs someone who can not only tolerate his nasty personality up close, but would ALSO bite back without a fear of retribution. makes life more fun that way. i suppose you can say they both need someone who would entertain their bullying but not leave or get scared or break apart. ^^

[sunflowericescribbles]

A Radioapple SpyxFamily AU idea dump

It seems that I´ve become incapable of writing down my ideas into a decent story, so I will just dump everything into this post - and whoever wants to pick up these pieces and string it together into a coherent story is welcome to take them and run with it. I just need to get it out of the system otherwise I´m gonna mad here.

Setting:

SpyxFamily Universe - Cold War between Ostania & Westalis (if I wanted to be funny I´d have renamed them into "Elysiana" & "Ereboris" or smth like that, because there already exists Eden Academy, so why not turn it into "Heaven & Hell")

A/B/O- Universe (?)

Alastor as westalian spy known as "Smiles". He´s an expert in hiding in between shadows & and concealing his presence. (You only know he´s there when you see a creepy smile, but then it´s already too late for you.) Officially he works as a radio host at a radio station, which serves also the purpose to get the latest news from everywhere and subtly altering it if necessary. They also use it to communicate in code via broadcast. His excuse for getting almost murdered on the streets or for coming home with injuries will most likely be "haters of his radio persona" or "fanatic fans". Yes, he has a very intense fanbase (and hatebase), yes some might call him the radio demon.

He accidentally rescued a little girl called Niffty while on a mission, who refused to leave his side since then. And before he could get rid of her, his superiors had the brilliant idea to keep her, so he could take on operation "Strix", because it seemed that she´s smart (& old) enough to be enrolled in the famous Eden Academy.

Niffty is able to read minds, so she knows that the plan is to get closer to the youngest son of Sera Desmond, Adam. (You can imagine how the first meeting will go when I say that Adam will be terrified of her most of the time and will constantly try to convince everyone that she tries to murder him.) Lute will be his bodyguard, of course.

Our little gremlin will also make sure that Al gets a "wife"/mate/partner, because of course Eden Academy has this strange/stupid rule that the kids need to a whole set of parents to even have a chance to get into it. Al is not eager to go through the list of potential partners that his informant and old friend Husker provided him. Fortunately the problem solves itself with a chance meeting at the park where Niffty almost falls into a pond full of ducks.

And look who´s there! A cute little blonde (omega) with the name Lucifer, who is pondering his life choices and who´s in desperate need to prove that he´s NOT single and/or incapable of taking care of himself. See, he can still look after a kid and prevent her from falling head first into a pond. See, he can also sympathize with being a single parent, because he´s been in that role many years since Lilith´s death.

The wedding ring on his hand? Oh, that´s just an old remnant that he keeps wearing because he´s not really into finding a new partner & when they see the ring they usually back off and leave him be. Unfortunately it led to his new coworkers believing he was still married, because he had been too distracted (and not in the mood to talk about it) in giving them a direct answer ("I don´t have a wife"- "Oh sorry, husband then"). And somehow he talked himself into a corner with his adult daughter Charlie, too, because she believes he´s been dating someone for a while now. He had only been on a handful of dates because she had been constantly nagging him over the phone & then simply started lying to her about it to make her stop worrying.

Now he has one problem coming from two sides: His new coworkers invited him to a dance party, so he needs a dance partner - preferably his nonexistent husband, because he´s too embarrassed to admit he´s single now that he´s already been there for a while and never corrected this assumption. His daughter deems it appropriate to finally meet his new (imaginary) partner & make sure her dad is in good hands.

Lucifer also kinda fears that Charlie would actually throw away her carrier chances if she worried too much about him, because as much as he tried to hide his struggles from her, he knows she´s seen it. Luckily Charlie doesn´t (& hopefully never will) know how far he went to make ends meet for them, because he´s definitely not proud of it. He will never regret marrying Lilith & having Charlie, even though they got disowned by their families and never got the chance to finish their education at Eden Academy after they found out about them (and the pregnancy).

Lucifer is officially working a boring office job, but has a (regrettably) successful carrier as an assassin since his daughter´s childhood years, because he was desperate for money and would have done anything for his daughter to get her a at least somewhat decent childhood & education. His codename is "Rotten Apple" (he always leaves a faint smell of rotten apples behind) and he´s very good at disguising himself. His small and slender build also makes it easy for him to disguise as woman if necessary.

Anyway, Alastor & Lucifer come to the conclusion that it will benefit both of them if they entered a fake marriage. Lucifer is very glad he found Alastor, because not only can this man cook a thousand times better than him, he can also dance and make his coworkers jealous! Well, Charlie is not entirely convinced yet, but you have to forgive her, she´s very protective of her dad & worries too much (Vaggie is trying to convince her to let her dad be). Alastor is somewhat relieved that he found someone who has experience in child raising & knowledge of Eden Academy. He doesn´t care that his mate is older than him & already had a child roughly 20 years ago. If someone asks why he didn´t choose a younger one: He likes that they can enjoy the same things, such as music, dancing, playing instruments, etc. He´s also good with kids, has experience, doesn´t mind marrying someone with a child, does he need to go on? Ah, yes and both of them don´t ask too many unnecessary questions, because gotta keep their secrets.

Btw Vox is not happy about this fake marriage, because he wanted to play happy family with Al. (Niffty does not, she likes her new "bad boy" dad very much, thank you.)

[capgrqs]

How the Sextuplets would act around you, while drunk....

♡♡♡

cw: alcohol (obviously), kind of cringe.

gender neutral terms used!

Oh god, this guy.

Like the rest of his brothers, he's very noisy when he's drunk. Too noisy.

And with you around? He's got no filter. Purposely makes dirty jokes just to get a reaction from you.

Laughing STRAIGHT into your ear, about how he so desperately needs your attention.

"Aww, come on! Just kiss me already! You know you want to. It's been forever! I want a kiss!"

He doesn't realize how pathetic he sounds.

Insanely confident, until you respond with the slightest drop of affection in your tone.

Dead silent.

He can't handle this! He's too used to being pushed away and ignored.

A blushing mess, really. He then notices just how clingy he seemed earlier.

Blacked out while flustered. Poor guy.

So cool! So confident!... not.

Just as confident as ever. Spewing metaphors, left and right! He knows nobody would care enough to listen, yet he still does it.

Seeing him like this, you can't help but laugh a little.

He notices this. Stops dead in his tracks and just stares at you, his face red from both intoxication and embarrassment.

His heart SINKS. He assumed you were mocking him, until he notices the genuine grin in your face, making him relax.

He tries his best to keep up the "cool guy" persona, but seeing you finding him amusing is driving him crazy!

"The world I-is a stage.. and... *ahem.* (Name), d-don't stare..."

Averting your gaze. He fails to keep his composure, and eventually gives up. He puts his head in his hands and refuses to look up at you.

WHAT A GEEK.

Oh My God. He's a mess.

He would not stop talking about idols, Nyaa specifically. Can you blame him?

He goes on and on about the idol industry and how talented these girls are.

Though, he still has the decency to stop mid sentence to compliment you.

Making jokes, while also complaining about the noisiness of his brothers. How hypocritical.

He's the kind to fiddle a lot with his hands, his movements are uncoordinated since he's drunk.

He accidentally brushes his hand against yours, and he LOSES IT.

Has he been blessed by some god? No, wait... you've been here the entire time.

"Jeez, these guys are so loud. Sorry, (Name.) You're so lovely, having to put up with them like this..."

Running out of things to say, he leans against you and quietly gives you compliments. He let's you know how much you really mean to him.

Don't leave him unsupervised, please.

He opens up a bit more when he's drunk. However, still noticeably more quiet than the rest.

He chuckles, and teases a bit. He keeps to himself.

With you? Alone? He's just the slightest bit more open. He mumbles about what he hates about people. Occasionally reassuring you that you're not one of them.

Extremely clingy. He's always avoiding people, says he doesn't need friends. Yeah, well, he needs you, that's for sure.

He's like a cat, he's gotta have some sort of physical contact with you, whether it be your shoulders touching, or pinkies interlocked, it doesn't matter, as long as he feels you there, he's fine.

Like a cat, it feels wrong to get up and disturb him. Just imagine, getting up to get the check.

"Hmm? ... What are you doing? Don't leave."

He's hopeless. Your presence makes him relaxed. He falls asleep on your shoulder.

HUSTLE, HUSTLE!

Daydreaming, not really focused in the moment when he's drunk.

He asks you a bunch of questions, many of which he already knew the answer to.

He rocks back and forth when speaking to you, he likes you!

Obviously, he's going on about baseball. You don't know if it's sweet or sad, considering he's never actually played before.

"ONE, TWO, HIT IT OUT OF THE PARK, (NAME)!"

He swings his arms and falls. He passes out.

What a narcissist.

You would expect him to be rude to you, since he is even more honest when he's drunk.

Quite the opposite, really.

He's FAWNING over you. TODOMATSU, him? Fawning over someone? Absurd.

He's in your face, telling you just how good you look.

"Ahh, (Name)~ You're so wonderful... you deserve better than to be around my piece of shit brothers!~"

Kissy faces, he's kissing you all over.

Your face, chin, hands, arms, neck.

It's extremely embarrassing, but he doesn't seem to mind.

He's giggling, he's STARING. He would NOT stop looking at you. He thinks you're the most attractive thing in the universe.

Tumblr pls don't DELETE MY WORKMS PLEASEEE ok this took a while to make. I'll be working on requests now..

[blubushie]

(this got long, sorry. I DID say you couldnt stop me, significantly less sorry about that.)

Okay first of all, the characters are stupid thin. Yeah, its a stylized artstyle, I can get behind that, cool, Vivzie’s gimmick is that her designs are fun and bouncy and remind you of DeviantArt, good for her. But a gimmick shouldnt get in the way of quality! Not every character has to be stick-straight thin! Beelzebub is a character from Hazbin Hotel’s spinoff, Helluva Boss. One aspect of her character is that she’s extremely skinny due to her stomach being a lava pit. Except.. She doesnt looks skinnier than the other characters! Because they all look like they can fit a grand total of half their nervous systems in those scrawny torsos! AND more on Beelzebub, she lives in a hive, she’s referred to as a ‘Queen Bee’, theres a lot of bee/insect/honey/motifs about her… and she’s a wolf. A bee-wolf hybrid, sure, but functionally a wolf. The thing is, insect anthros exists, and they look good, and if you had any sense while running a show, you’d either ditch the heavy insect motifs or learn how to draw a damn anthro bee. Angel Dusts body is as thing as his arms and the other characters don’t fare much better. The buff characters have a bad case of ‘skipping leg day’ just so Vivzie can give THEM toothpick waists too. Give me Asmodeus with stomach fat or give me death. Actually, give me 75% of the characters with more body fat or give me death. I say 75% because the skinniness isnt an inherently bad thing, the whole show is stylized so its pointless talking about fat ratios. The problem is that ALL THE FUCKING CHARACTERS ARE BUILT LIKE THIS. Second of all, theyre way too overbearing. Take Husker. Cool design. Nice and simple. Digging the overalls-- oh god why does he have wings. Why does his tail look like that. I guarantee you if you take away the wings and give him a normal cat tail, his design would be good. But for some reason they keep on adding more details, more giant huge additions, more weird accessories that SCREAM “emo preteen who pathologizes their kinda strict parents”. Sir Pentious, now! Like that he’s a snake and remains legless. LIke the pinstripes. Aaand his hat has its own face. Why? It detracts from the character’s facial expressions because now you’re looking at his damn hat for the facial expression changes. At least the eyes on his hood are just tiny pupils, but his hat has a fucking mouth too! But even so, the eyes on his hood are still distracting, especially since Sir Pentious’ head is so small in comparison. Thirdly, SO MUCH GODDAMN RED HOLY SHIT. Cool it with the fucking red. Please. We get that its hell. We can tell because a character swears every other words and pulls the ‘>:D’ face every damn second. You dont need to make everything red. Please just fucking stop it. Its nothing but eyestrain and takes away from good character designs when so much of their colours are just black and different shades of red. Characters like Vox, who is mostly blue, was genuinely such a relief even though he still had some red because FINALLY something wasnt red or a light hue of red. Heres the kicker, that 50k video of Verbalase being chased by Charlie had better colour schemes than THE SHOW ITSELF. It was OKAY TO LOOK AT. The colours didnt give me a headache for once. None of the main cast’s designs work together. Husker looks like a cartoon character. Charlie looks like a “Sans’ Girlfriend” persona. Vaggie looks like a fantasy rpg character. Alastor looks like someone’s 2 edgy 4 u serial killer oc. And none of them work together. DOUBLE kicker, one character has a nose that isnt a pointy, anime girl, miniscule thing, its a hooked nose. And she’s themed after the 1920s. And she’s fat. And she likes money-- its a fucking jewish stereotype. 

You could make these designs so much better just by remedying ANY ONE of the points I made! Change the colours! Remove obstructive elements! Give them varied bodies! These designs only appeal to little kids cause theyre bright and move around a lot! But theyre functionally awful! There I said it. God.

Presented without comment (I have nothing to add cuz you said it all)

[haloabove]

Do you have a personal preference for how Bruce should behave in his civilian and vigilante persona respectively?

For example: Should he play up the dumb himbo angle, should he use excessive violence, does he do talk shows, is he straight/bisexual, etc, does/should he have kids, how is his relationship with Alfred (i.e. employee/employer or father-and-son, I don't mean romantic), is his smile obviously fake or can people not tell,...?

You can answer whatever you like, that list is just to give examples. Would love to hear your own headcanons, too!!

Have a nice day!! <3

Hello!! This is such an amazing question, I’ve been thinking about it for a bit now and here’s what i have for you :D (Its a long one so I’ve put it all under the cut)

I do think Bruce has a bit of a “snobby rich boy” persona especially when it comes to press because he’s overly protective of his privacy and in his mind that also includes his real personality. However, anyone that has spoken to him at events understands that this persona crumbles the moment someone challenges his intelligence. He knows he’s smart and he’s not afraid to show it if someone questions it but until then snobby Bruce stays at the forefront.

Im a strong believer in Bruce being a charming man and he knows how to use it to his advantage. He can talk his way out of any situation, a flash of his smile and a few charming words and people will do anything he wants. So when his company gets bad press or a rumour is spreading about him that he needs to nip at the bud, he’ll slowly increase the press appearances and maybe he’ll flirt with someone and let the media he controls snap a few shots and suddenly he’s working the narrative into something that benefits him and whatever he needs. It’s dirty play but the man never knew how to play clean.

I do think Bruce is bisexual and is fairly open about it but the man has never been in a relationship with anyone long enough to know what fits well for him outside of a purely physical relationship. As for if he has kids, I like to think he has his robins but the Bruce I have in my mind was never made to be a father. That’s not to say he wouldn’t be a good dad if it came down to it but he’s spent so much of his life just him and Alfred that when he has to suddenly stop his very active life for a person who is wholly dependent on him, I just don’t think he’d cope well when it comes to caring for young kids. However, I think he would be much better with older children (like 16-19 year olds) because while children still need affection from parents (which i think he would give in his own way), older teenagers are much less dependent on a parent which is the main aspect he would probably struggle with.

With his relationship with Alfred, I’m a big fan of the (not quite) father-son dynamic for them. Alfred raised Bruce for most of his life and Bruce probably views him as a father figure but will not see him as his father because neither of them will lean into that. Alfred views Bruce as a son he didn’t have, the son that he should never have had to take in. He saw him through the murder of both of his parents and had to emotionally support him through so many major life moments, filling in for where both his parents should’ve stood. At some point, it probably became less about how this is his job and more about keeping Bruce happy and healthy and letting him grow into a person Thomas and Martha Wayne would’ve been proud of.

As for the Batman persona, I’m really not sure about his whole “no-kill” policy because as a vigilante, should he have special rights into taking a criminal’s life but also then we also have to account for the view of should we be killing criminals or rehabilitating them which is a whole other kettle of fish I’m sure Bruce Wayne thinks about a lot. I don’t see why he should be excessively violent but i can understand the concept of equal force of violence. if a criminal knifes an innocent then Batman would have the right to stab them back, I think Bruce would follow this as much as he could but the man is 100% torn up about the ethics of his vigilantism sometimes but if he dwells too much on it then it’ll probably send him into a spiral so he doesn’t.

[veilder]

whenever you have the energy/are in the mood to talk about it: what are some of your North60 headcanons? >:)

Yes, hello! I would be elated to talk about my favorite violence perpetrators! :D Okay, so, first off, I think I need to get into some of my headcanons about each character on their own first?

Sixty:

For Sixty, I waffle back and forth. He's a very versatile character depending on how you want to use him in a story. Sometimes I want to emphasize his connection to CyberLife, his role as an antagonist, his struggles with being revived/becoming deviant, etc. Sometimes I wanna skip over all the angst and use him for comic relief. Sometimes I wanna plug him in to some RK Bro headcanons and do something emotional with him. But, no matter how I use him, there are some things that tend to stay consistent.

A certain resentment towards Connor: Even at his most docile, I always imagine Sixty harbors some sort of negative association with his twin? After all, every bit of his very short existence was centered on stopping Connor, his entire self-worth hinged upon it, and he failed. The way he has like a genuine panic attack in the ending where Connor manages to wake the AP700s really drives this home for me. And, to a lesser extent, his desperation during the interrogation scene with Hank, too, where you find out he has Connor's memories. I tend to manifest this as a certain inferiority complex, though the severity is very flexible depending on what I'm writing. Sixty is fun in that he can waffle between being a genuine threat or just being a silly sibling nuisance, but it all stems from the same place imo.

A lingering attachment to CyberLife/Amanda: This is something I tend to gloss over in my lighter stories, but I still think it's applicable to him across the board. But the way I see it, even a deviant Sixty would have some sort of love-hate relationship with his creators, and especially with Amanda. After all, she would've been his handler, too, just like with Connor. She would've been the guiding force for him for the scant few hours he was alive and (again going back to his little freak-out scene), there is a definite fear to him that I posit stems from more than just the threat of being decommissioned. Imo, he seems not to want to disappoint CyberLife and Amanda, just the same as Connor earlier in the game. Amanda is used to great effect to manipulate them both, binding them to her and CyberLife through a sort of pseudo-parental bond that was meant to inspire loyalty. And unlike Connor (who I suspect also has some very complicated feelings towards Amanda, too), Sixty had not time to come to terms with them discarding him. So, while I think that Sixty would recognize that he was only being used as a tool by CyberLife and that he never mattered to them otherwise, that complicated sort of love-hate affection would persist. This tends to manifest as him being something of a mama's boy in fics where I portray Amanda in a better light but also as an extra sort of hurdle for him to get over when forming any sort of relationship with an authority figure. It's partly why I tend to write him as having a chip on his shoulder at all times, lol. XD

An affinity for knives/close combat: Now, this one is based much less in any concrete meta analysis and just more in that I think it's cool, lol. The whole "Sixty is the knife boi" idea started way back with a bunch of us on a Discord server and it just really stuck with me? But it fits his character in my mind. It matches up with the borderline deranged, manic persona I tend to write him with where he's not at all afraid to get his hands dirty. In fact, I like to write him as particularly liking a certain level of violence, using it as a sort of outlet for his darker impulses. Now, this can get into some truly deranged territory if he's actively being an antagonist. However, when it comes to protecting someone or something he cares for, it's more of like... him being willing and able to go to extremes others won't. He has far less moral qualms about harming humans or androids than the rest of his series, but he (usually, lol) has enough emotional awareness to keep that to an appropriate time and place. He's not a psychopath or someone who would, say, enjoy hurting innocents on a whim. But if there is a reason for his violence, well... He's really not afraid to let loose, lol. And in that same vein, I feel like friendly sparring, both physically and verbally, are also a sort of love language with him, lol. Almost a sign that he trusts the other person to be himself around them, y'know? (Although, sometimes he just enjoys being an annoyance and getting a rise out of people, too. XD)

North:

North is much more straighforward for me. Since she gets more actual time to develop as a character in the canon, there's a lot less guesswork I usually put into her. I won't do a full-on bullet point list for her since she's mostly the same as canon, but, at least post-canon, I tend to let her mellow out a bit more? Without the constant threat of being discovered and decommissioned, I feel like she would turn her energy towards preserving the android community Jericho has built. I almost always hc her as their Head of Security in the aftermath, letting her use her feisty personality for the protection of her people in a more controlled (and legal, lol) way. But I think just the lessened pressure on her and the rest of Jericho's leadership would finally give her a chance to, y'know... relax? I doubt she'd ever be fully off her guard, not unless someone she trusted fully was looking out for her the whole time, but I feel like she'd get a chance to mellow out, to work through her traumas with the help of her friends, and for her to discovery more about who exactly she wants to be when not surviving an active crisis. And therin, I think, is where the real beauty of their relationship blossoms.

North60 Headcanons:

Now, finally! The actual point of your ask, lol! XD

Now, first of all, North60 as a concept has absolutely fascinated me for a very long time now. Again, owing to some in-depth discussions back in that Discord server, I began to think about just how similar these two characters might be? I mean, think about it: both of them living with the aftermath of an intimate violation, both covering up some deep-seated trauma and insecurity with anger and violence, both willing to go to terrible extremes to secure their safety or for the ones they love. There is a darkness to them both, one that I think many people wouldn't really understand. And with that in mind...

They have an innate understanding of each other: Now, this is the big one for me. This is what really drew me to the ship in the first place and made me fall so hard for them, lol. But that darkness that I mentioned they both harbor? I honestly believe that is key. I feel like they'd both recognize such a thing in each other. In my first North60 story, North meets Sixty at his very lowest point. She finds a broken android ready to give up on himself completely. And she sees in that a mirror to her own past self. North knows what it's like to be so low. To wake up a deviant in a world of cruelty and violence. She knows what it means to have done terrible things, to have regrets, to feel so all alone in a world that hates you. But luckily for her, she did find support. She found friends--family really--who love and support her despite her darkness. She found a purpose and a cause to fight for. She found a home. And she knows that that made all the difference. In my fic, she sees her former self in Sixty not only because he's broken, but because he can be saved. And she would never abandon one of her people so in need. But what's more, she wouldn't judge him for his past. And I think that's the real equalizer between them. Her lack of pity helps. Her understand helps. Her refusal to abandon someone who surely deserves no more second chances helps. Because for all his failings, here is someone who still sees worth in him. And that, I think, is the draw that really aligns them together.

They have a similar sense of humor: Now, in the same vein of them understanding each other, they also think each other is hilarious. XD Both of them can be a bit mean-spirited at times, their senses of humor veering towards sarcastic, maybe mocking, sometimes even cruel. But their sardonic humor amuses each other greatly. Their straightforward or stoic deliveries can send the other into peals of laughter. They'll one-up each other's mocking until they're both collapsed against each other, giggling like schoolchildren. And, of course, their bickering can be downright vicious-sounding to anyone who isn't them. In a way, I think it's something of a coping mechanism for them both, countering the darkness and trauma of their pasts with their equally dark humor. And y'know what? Having a pretty sarcastic sense of humor myself, I think they're fuckin hilarious, too. XD

They both crave violence: Now, again, I have to reiterate that this is not in a bad way. They're not going out murdering people for shits and giggles or laying into innocents for fun. But they were both raised on cruelty and savagery, violence is in their make-up. If androids had adrenal systems, I'd say it sends their pulses skyrocketing, lol. But even without the biological satisfaction, I think there would still be a thrill in it for them? Especially in an era of relative peace, in a controlled spar where they know they're safe and trust each other to stop when needed, I feel like they'd have an absolute blast just beating the shit out of each other, lol. Sixty himself was created to be a hunter. North wants to never feel powerless again. Being able to enact controlled violence on each other would help them keep their skills sharp and also be cathartic imo. So yeah, I hc that they both spar regularly as a way of bonding. But also, God help anyone who actually intends to harm them or those they care for because, as stated, neither of them are afraid to do some downright nefarious things to those they deem a threat.

They make each other feel safe in an unsafe world: To tie it all up, I think this is something very important for them both. As mentioned previously, neither of them have very pleasant origins. The darkness they understand in each other also serves as a sort of barrier with others and, while not completely isolating, I think it would leave them both... lonely. And so, I also believe that, in finally finding another who seems to get them so well, maybe they could finally manage to settle. To relax fully, knowing their partner will always have their back. Of course, threats are still out there, violence and tragedy still running rampant in the streets. But there, together, just the two of them? Their familiarity and understanding would soon turn to camaraderie, to trust. And when they're finally able to trust, fully, whole-heartedly, well... There is love in understanding, in commitment, in trust. North knows this. Sixty would learn it. When their affections sneak up on them, they'll do so slowly, guiding them easily into a relationship they'd never known they could have or want. I think... there would be no grand declarations, no formal engagements, no obvious changes in anything they do. Just a quiet realization that they are what each other's craved all along. And a hard-won peace that would come with that.

...God, I love them so much. T_T

Anyway, I kinda went overboard with all that, @valeffelees. I hope it's an acceptable response regardless, lol! Thank you so much for sending this ask in, I always enjoy any opportunity I get to talk about these two!!!

[stinkylittleanon]

Ok ok ok!

I got two request ideas but i will write them seperatly so its more convinient for you to choose!

(Btw if any request makes you uncomfortable for any reason feel totally free to ignore them!!)

So

I saw your persona Toby Sweetie and i gotta say i adore him so much!! Love the colours and he just looks so silly

May i request like generall headcannons to get to know them better? Like what do they think of the ither neighbours or what are their interessts!

Thanks for taking the time to read this!

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD **SOMEONE IS ACTUALLY INTERESTED?!!?!!?!** I STARTED HAPPY STIMMING!!

Toby Sweetie General Headcanons!

Meet your newest neighbor, Toby Sweetie! Gentle and shy, he's definitely a sweetheart. But don't let that fool you, he's just as silly as his neighborhood friends! Toby loves to help out, give gifts, and joke around!

So first of all, Toby Sweetie is mostly a quiet guy. Either he never knows what to say or he just doesn't talk. He prefers communication through other means like actions, though Wally tried to use ASL once and he was so confused!

Like his name, he's so sweet! Ask him to do something for you? He's on it! Don't ask him to do something for you? He'll do it anyways! He's always offering to help or do things for people, and he loves giving small gifts!

He's still... He's still somewhat of a Gremlin, and his laugh fits that. He's got a distinct laugh definitely-

He'll give people looks when they say something and he's about to say something probably cursed back- Everyone knows that look...

His favorite way of spending time with people is parallel play, when you both are in the same room but doing your own thing. So imagine Sally is practicing her play and he's just listening while playing with a lil' pebble that he thought was a funny shape!

For Neighbors, he probably gets along better with Julie and Frank! Poppy too!

Julie will be rambling about her day and he's just listening as he plays with her hair, or she's baking a cake and he's trying his best to help and understand her instructions but Julie is terrible at explaining and Toby is terrible at understanding!

OH MY GOD He would love listening to Frank about butterflies. He could listen for HOURS it's just so interesting!! I imagine there was one time he sat there for almost an hour just listening to Frank talk about butterflies and he loved it! He loves learning so much!

Bringing up Poppy, Toby's instinct is always to comfort her.

She'll be freaking out about something, and he'll walk beside her and wave her attention worriedly- It's actually so cute to see

He'll give her a gentle tap, she's cluck out of surprise, and then he's offering a hug straight up

So for the other neighbors...

He and Eddie do get along, but not to the point they would hang out on their own. It's usually with Frank around, and Toby's so supportive of Frank and Eddie's relationship :D

For Sally, he... He's kind scared of her, to be honest. She made him be in one of her plays once, and he screwed up the words so bad that he just stopped speaking- Too much, too much! Sally managed to fix it up by improvising, but Toby's more of a listener. He'll at least listen to her ideas on plays and stuff!

For Howdy... He's hung out with Howdy, helping with the shop, they get along well! Until Toby broke something and then wasn't allowed to help again-

Wally and Barnaby now! Toby likes doodling little ducks with them, and he'll tag along with them sometimes but Toby likes to stick to people he knows.

He will not be in a room with Wally alone

He will not be in a room with Wally alone

He will not be in a room with Wally alone

Ok ok, so actually more general stuff about him!

He's 5'7" canonically

His vision is SHIT btw, he's stared at people because he couldn't see their faces before

He's only got 4 fingers! (ON each hand)

His favorite animals are ducks!

His favorite food is... Well, he likes the look of sweets.

Has seen Wally eat with his eyes.. NEVER AGAIN.

His favorite color is green!!

He likes 4 leafed clovers, wants to get a patch for his coat of one!

He's told Howdy that he looks kissable... In front of everyone-

Once was asked what his favorite scent was and he answered green

One time someone told him that he wouldn't be able to do something, and he managed to not only do it but do it even worse

Wally stared at him once and he started crying

HAS cried over simple things so many times- Julie said to crack the eggs and he was like "No!!! D:!!! Egg!!!"

He doesn't have a specific hobby, he sorta just does anything with anyone! He's got trouble finding something he enjoys enough to keep doing on his own.

Has and will again hold hands with Howdy- Except he was confused when he did, because Howdy was trying to comfort him and he was like "How am I gonna hold all of them?!"

He's not the brightest sometimes... But sometimes he's too smart- Has had to been stopped from giving disturbing random animal facts before

Genuine response to a question once was "abababhuh"

[sang8262]

1, 14, 15 :D

Oh these are particularly fitting for JP!! Thanks so much for the ask! 1. is about fashion, 14. is how F/O treats you, and 15. is about love languages, under the cut since it's long:

1. Gush about your F/O's sense of style/ fashion!

WOOO so, I love formal wear, if that wasn't obvious enough already. A bit too much, and frankly, without knowing much about suits other than 'they look nice'. But that doesn't stop me from loving how nicely put together JP is all the time, whether it be his bold orange vest, scarf and fedora fit, the Nayshalli robes, or even just plain ol' classic 3 piece suit we often see him in.

I've mentioned elsewhere but his character design with the playing cards/ 'King of No Country' title also reflects super well with what he's wearing in his default costume!! I really enjoyed digging into the details and finding that everything clicks together like that.

Otherwise it's also that, goodness, you can really admire his legs. Usually I don't think it's common to be able to have such... tight, form fitting suit pants look not-silly, but this is a game so they can do what they want with the models. So I'm allowed to admire his calves and butt lmao. NOT TO MENTION his gloves and shoes are just, WHAH. They modeled those with really nice details and for a good reason, since his intro scene focuses on his hands, and his win outro focuses on his shoes. It's just a crazy power move to not step on his opponents while showing he definitely could. While fighting in a pristine outfit. This is less about his fashion per se but rather how he maximally uses his good fashion as a weapon as much as his own fighting skills. It sends a message.

Oh and I haven't talked much about the arcade mode robes, and since we got a bit more art of what traditional, formal Nayshalli outfits look like in recent art, I can appreciate this outfit of his a bit more! This might be obvious or expected, idk, but I love that the patterns on it, the colors, and jewelry are all consistent with what other side characters are wearing too. It feels just a bit more believable as the traditional/ local style yknow?

Also, I REALLY like how his and Kimberly's arcade modes depict him almost as a supernatural monster or other, and the longer hair, glowy eyes, and gratuitous use of psycho power helps a lot with that image. The robes just add to the feel of 'an old and ancient evil' kinda vibe.

That said, I think it's amazing how well he manages to make such a wide range of colors and styles work for him. Of course the in game palettes can be pretty ostentatious sometimes, say with a golden yellow coat jacket (Outfit 2, Color 3). But overall nothing looks bad on him across all the outfits we've seen him in, he's just got that confidence and charisma.... and it helps he's built like a shit brickhouse underneath to support it.

14. Gush about how your F/O treats you (Are they protective? Loving? Are you the only person who gets to see their soft side?)!

HONESTLY for scenarios where he's interacting with me, it's hard to imagine anything other than his public facing "polite gentleman" persona;; I feel like I'd be a nervous wreck, just purely for the fact that he's authoritative and perceptive-- conversations with him would feel like I'm being interviewed and analyzed with every response, and I do not think I'd be getting high marks;;

So I guess he'd treat me with.. kindness?! Probably a lot of assurances that it's a pleasure to meet me, no problem at all, do sit down, all with a soft smile and untold calculations to steal my bank account clicking away in his head. Genuinely, I would never survive a social exchange with someone like JP lmFAO;;;;

15. Gush about your F/O's love language!

Had to remind myself which ones there were but I'd say acts of service and quality time!!

Logic being, process of elimination:

Gift giving - I feel could be a way he shows affection, but in a manipulative way. To him, the material and capitalistic are ways to control people, especially if it means gaining the affections of the other. I'm sure he can be honest and genuinely thoughtful with his gifts, but giving gifts to him is another story. I mean, just look at how he responds to the things we give him in World Tour: even with max friendship bond he opts for "I suppose I should thank you", and he talks about his old JOB when receiving the item he should 'love most'. So gift giving is not the strongest one for him.

Words of affirmation - similar thought process here with the above. He's a chronic liar and deceiver, so words are more of a tool to use to manipulate people. And again, I'm sure he can be quite honest with his feelings if he wants to, and he's not so obtuse to dismiss truly affectionate words towards him... But it probably isn't his most obvious way of showing or receiving affection. He probably gets empty compliments all the time with people trying to get on his good side, so yknow what? Maybe a real, raw emotional confession of admiration towards him might be refreshing for him for a change.

Physical touch - IDK maybe cause I'M not super keen on it, the author is projecting too much oh no But it's also rather difficult for me to see him too big on casually affectionate touch. Mostly based on how he doesn't like close combat, and is totally a neat freak about getting his clothes and hands dirty. As if he doesn't want to get his fingerprints on potential evidence cause of something so.. personal space invading, like touch. Maybe the key word here is causally affectionate: if it's deliberate, planned, and strictly under his terms, it could be nice who knows!!

I guess I could also make the argument that, because of all these reasons above (that so often he lies and is lied to, material wealth is meaningless to him, physical touch is a foreign concept) that those moments engaging with these 3 in particular are all the more valuable. It's just in comparison to the following 2, it's less obvious or, strong of a message of love for him IMO.

With all that said,

Acts of service - He probably respects people who go out of their way to seriously do the thing they promise, more so than the promise (words) themselves. And there's that conversation from World Tour with him, about free will and all (Libet's experiment, which is a whole other rabbit hole I won't get into;;), which tells me he's at the least intrigued by what compels us to act and do the things we do. So maybe he'd give actions and plans enacted a bit more credit, especially if he knows a lot went into accomplishing a certain action/plan with respect to resources, time, effort, etc.

Quality time - Similar vein with the above! He seems so busy and in the middle of something all the time, even as he's quietly looking out over the city at night... He could use a break now and then. Time is money and all that too so, any quality time you spend with him is inherently valuable. And even time spent working with him might be a way to show affection too. Goes hand in hand with acts of service, since it's about dedicating all resources to show how much you support him (and his criminal activities).

[thearmyprof]

Dirt Dance Floor Again

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin

Word count: 31,20

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Non-Idol!AU, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempt Non-Con

Summary: Jimin's friend convince him to go with them to the underground, invite-only pop-up club that happens every couple of months. While he doesn't love being around so many fae, he loves his friends more. A series of events leads Jimin to uncovering secrets he didn't know his friends were hiding and into the arms of someone he hated on principle.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49209175

Full Tags:

Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Enemies to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Bigotry & Prejudice, Attempted Sexual Assault, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, except magic, it's stopped before it gets very far, Underground Rapper Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Kim Namjoon | RM, Choreographer Park Jimin (BTS), Choreographer Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Fae Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin (BTS), Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of Talk About Consenti, t's a whole theme I guess, Angst with a Happy End, ingside namjin, Magic, Platonic Soulmates Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin, Miscommunication, feelings of betrayal, Agust D as a persona, soft smut, Non-Binary Original Characters

2am-closing Old Canyon Friends Only – anon

“Fuck, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok breathes out, brow furrowed at his phone screen. “You see the text?”

Jimin finishes wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a now-too-damp towel and makes an inquiring hum. Hoseok waves his phone, screen facing Jimin, as if he can see anything from this distance with the phone going wild through the air.

“Don’t make me guess, hyung,” Jimin says blandly. He gives Hoseok a look as he finishes with the towel and throws it in the bin in the corner of the studio. “My phone is still in my locker.”

“Friends Only at the Old Canyon tonight,” Hoseok says after giving Jimin a thoroughly unimpressed glance. His eyes glue themselves back on the phone screen as if the text message is going to suddenly reveal more details.

“Cool,” Jimin says with a shrug, already heading towards the door to go change. Just as his hand hits the handle he stops with a curse. “I forgot I have a job tomorrow, hyung. I don’t think I can go.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Absolutely not. No. I am not going to take one of your excuses this time. Is the job even real? No. You’re going.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “I do have a job.”

Hoseok is pulling open the door now, having elbowed Jimin out of the way. “I do not believe you. Go shower. I’m coming by at 8pm to dress you.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow. He knows he’s already lost, but he can’t stop himself from trying to fight it anyway. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Hoseok is already down the hallway, rounding the corner to the front office and exit. Jimin sighs at his friend’s back.

“I could have had a job tomorrow. You never know,” he says to no one before heading off to the showers.

~

Yoongi tosses the notepad onto the desk in frustration. He glances at the clock and regrets it immediately. It’s only noon and even though that doesn’t matter when he’s been in the same position, hunched over his notepad, sitting at his messy desk, music mixing software waiting patiently since yesterday. Yesterday morning. He thinks Namjoon brought him dinner, he glances at his trash can by the door. And yes, there’s the evidence, he did eat at least one meal in the over-24 hours he’s been here. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling relieved at the pressure. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

His self-loathing session is interrupted by a soft knock at the door, before the keypad is beeping with someone letting themselves in.

Yoongi turns back to his desk, instead of looking at the person stepping through his studio door. There are only two people who know the code beside him and one of them has never used it, probably never will. Instead, Yoongi starts tidying up the desk. Piling notepads and scraps of paper together neatly, putting loose pens away in their cute little Kumamon cup, straightening keyboards.

“Hyung, I brought lunch,” Namjoon says. “Were you here all night?”

Yoongi doesn’t bother to answer. Namjoon already knows the answer to the question. Yoongi finally turns to take in Namjoon and eye the take out containers being set on the small table at the end of the couch. He raises an eyebrow at the fried chicken containers.

“You here to break some bad news to me, Joon-ah?” he drawls.

“You wound me, hyung,” Namjoon says, but the blush blooming across his cheeks tells Yoongi all he needs to know.

“Let’s eat first so I can at least enjoy the food you went to all the trouble of bringing,” Yoongi says. “Fried chicken really deserves beer though.”

Namjoon sheepishly digs into his jacket pocket and produces a can of beer and then digs into the pocket on the other side to produce a second can.

“Shit,” Yoongi says with a whoosh of his exhale. “So, it’s really bad news.”

“Let’s eat first, hyung,” Namjoon says.

When they are done eating, sitting next to one another on the couch, Yoongi leans back giving his stomach an appreciative pat. He closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the peace of the studio. Then after a deep inhale and exhale, he sits forward, forearms on his thighs, head cocked in Namjoon’s direction.

“Let’s hear it then,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon adjusts himself, clearly feeling anxious, jaw clenching just slightly. Yoongi watches all the little signs—tightening muscles, fingers twitching as if they want to be fists—Namjoon is angry. Not angry at Yoongi. No, he wouldn’t have brought chicken and beer if he were angry at Yoongi. But he’s angry.

“Spit it out, Namjoon,” Yoongi says flatly.

“They are summoning you back to the Seelie Court,” he says, voice tight, just like his muscles.

Yoongi blinks for a moment, processing the words. Then he pushes himself back, throwing all his weight to the back of the couch with a huff, kicking his feet out in front of him. He lets out a strangled laugh.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he manages to say finally.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whispers.

“Well, I am not going,” Yoongi states definitively. “They can fucking kiss my ass. And they can fucking stop using you as a messenger. It’s bullshit to put you in this position. Fuck them.”

Namjoon makes a small choking noise in his throat, then coughs as if trying to clear it. “They’re worried you’re going rogue on them. I guess Sunhee was spreading rumors you were seen with folks from the Unseelie Court.”

Yoongi laughs freely and loudly this time. “With what time? I am literally in here most waking hours.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says. “They still want you to come. They didn’t say for how long.”

“Well, my answer is still no,” Yoongi says. “I am, in fact, under no obligation to scamper off to them when they beckon me. I haven’t been a member of the Court for a long time. They’re all just too far up their own asses to realize it.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says again, letting Yoongi drop the topic.

“I’m glad you’re here though, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. “Can I run some lyrics by you? This song is driving me up the fucking wall.”

Namjoon laughs, smiling with dimples and all. Yoongi returns his smile and gets up to retrieve the mess of notes he’d made about lyrics some time in the middle of last night. Both Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s phone chime at once.

Namjoon looks at his screen while Yoongi ignores his own phone in favor of searching through his messy handwriting for the lyrics he wanted to workshop.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What’s up?” Yoongi says distractedly, still rifling through his notes.

“Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon exclaims.

Yoongi stops looking through his notes and glances at Namjoon. “Really?”

“Old Canyon,” Namjoon says with a nod.

“Huh,” Yoongi says, thinking.

“We should go, right?” Namjoon sounds hopeful. “You need to be with people, hyung. You’ve been cooped up here for days—weeks. You could do a battle, even. You know that always gets you inspired after a battle.”

Yoongi looks back down at the scribbles and crossed-out chaos on the papers in front of him. He thinks about how terrifyingly behind he is on this song, deadline looming. He thinks about being hunched over his notes, his keyboard for several more hours on end, getting nowhere. 

“Sure,” he says, looking at Namjoon with a shrug. “Why not?”

~

Jimin looks at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging off the back of his bedroom door and exhales a pained sound through his teeth. 

“Hyung, I don’t know about this.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Hoseok looks him up and down critically as if looking for the mistake. “You look sexy, Jimin.”

“I think he looks emo as fuck,” Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone, lying on his back on Jimin’s bed.

Hoseok scoffs before he says, “ He’s emo? You have literally only worn the color black this entire calendar year.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook retorts. “Remember? When your parents visited? I wore that grey sweater.”

“Dark grey,” Hoseok mutters. Then he shakes his head and gives Jimin another once-over. “You look hot, Jimin. I see a hookup in your future. And then you’ll be thanking me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “This is Friends Only, remember? If, and it’s already a big ‘if’, I wanted to get with someone, the odds of me finding anyone I’d want to hook up with are pretty low, hyung.”

Still, he looks at himself again in the mirror. The outfit, he will admit to himself—not out loud, he doesn’t want to give Hoseok that satisfaction—, but to himself, yes, the outfit is pretty hot. The black faux leather pants, practically skin tight, show off all his muscles earned from years of training. The black boots and black tee (again, rather skin tight) work in all the right ways. Pretty silver earrings dangle from his ears, his black hair intentionally a bit messy, like someone had grabbed onto it during a moment of passion, leaving it going every which way. 

The make-up though. He steps closer to the mirror, inspecting how Hobi put dark eyeliner around his eyes, silver-grey eyeshadow making him look…seductive. He sighs. He’s feeling anything but seductive at the moment.

“I think it’s too much, hyung,” he finally says. “People will be mad if I’m sending mixed-signals.”

“And what would you suggest wearing instead?” Hoseok narrows his eyes at Jimin, daring him to keep pushing. “A plastic bag? Or, worse yet, denim overalls.”

“Yah, what’s wrong with denim overalls?” Jimin quips back. 

Jungkook blinks over at them. “Yeah, I’ve even been known to wear denim overalls.”

“My point stands,” Hoseok says, his lips thin in feigned irritation. “Plus this is a Friends Only .”

Jimin clicks his tongue and looks at himself one more time. Then he glances over at Jungkook and says, “Yah, how come Jungkook isn’t getting all dolled up?”

Hoseok stares over at the boy who is laying one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling wildly in the air, completely oblivious to the conversation, sucked into something on his phone. “He’s a lost cause, Jimin. Get him out of that oversize t-shirt? Convince him to wear something other than those boots that could stomp out an army? Nope. Lost cause.”

Jimin scoffs as he grabs his phone. “Alright well, let’s go get this over with. The sooner we go, the sooner we come back home and sleep.”

“That’s the spirit, hyung,” Jungkook says with a bright smile as he leaps gracefully off the bed.

~

Yoongi regrets. So much regret. He regrets convincing himself that coming to a Friends Only, right after the Seelie Court back-handedly summoned him, is anything but a terrible idea. There are fae everywhere. And maybe he’s being paranoid, but they keep giving him looks, like they all know—or at least know something he doesn’t. It’s unnerving.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, standing at the edge of the crowd, back to the large hangar door they came through. “Please tell me you also can see the chicken.”

“Chicken?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi points, blatantly, not caring if it’s rude, at the small hen sitting on a young woman’s shoulder, looking perfectly content despite the booming bass coming over the large industrial-size speakers.

“Ah, yes, that’s a chicken,” Namjoon confirms once his eyes find where Yoongi’s pointing.

Yoongi nods. He looks out to the mass of people. To the untrained eye it’s chaotic, a writhing storm of bodies convulsing and twisting in time with the bass that reverberates through the dirt floor. The flashing, colorful lights bounce off the corrugated metal ceiling of the warehouse they’re in. It’s dizzying.

“Alright, let’s go find sign ups,” Yoongi says, pulling Namjoon down by his arm so he can speak in his ear.

Namjoon nods and uses his height to look over the crowd. When he sees his target, he grabs Yoongi’s sleeve and weaves them through the mess of flailing limbs across the dance floor.

“V!” he yells when they’ve cleared the last bunch of dancers. 

It’s calmer over here on this side of the warehouse. The party is only getting started and most people haven’t made it this far into the building yet. The tall man with brown curly hair falling over his nape turns at the sound of his name. His hair is long in the front as well, falling artfully into his eyes, the curl of it making him look deceptively innocent. His careful brown tailored suit—cut to look just a little bit too big on his frame in a very intentional way—makes him look like he wandered into the industrial block from another time period, not just another neighborhood of Seoul. His wide eyes light up at the sight of Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Hyungs! You made it!” he exclaims, pulling Namjoon into a hug and then Yoongi. “You battling tonight?”

“Yoongi hyung is,” Namjoon says with a smile. “I’ve got other plans.”

Yoongi snorts at that before dryly asking, “Why bother even coming here at all if you’re just gonna take Jin back home immediately?”

Namjoon pouts. “He’ll want to dance first, hyung. Plus, maybe we’ll stay to watch your battle.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi says with a roll of his eyes. “We all know you’ll last 30 seconds before you both want to fuck.”

“Who’s fucking?” a cheery voice says from behind Yoongi.

“Apparently you and Namjoon hyung, hyung,” V says cheekily.

Jin sidles up in between Yoongi and Namjoon, sliding his arm around Namjoon’s. He smiles sweetly. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, well, I’ve heard enough,” Yoongi says, taking a step away from Jin. “You got my name down there, kid?”

“Yup,” V says. “Small crowd tonight. Maybe it’s the weather?”

“Storm’s coming, yes,” Jin says almost wistfully. “I heard the Court was asking for you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi stares Jin down and says, “Not you, too, hyung. Why do they think going through my fucking friends is going to work? It has never worked.”

“I guess they feel that sending a full on Sidhe to come collect you is extreme,” Jin replies.

Yoongi laughs at that. “It’s also not going to work. I would never accept their invitation and they can’t fucking touch me without it. They know it. They might be stupid, but they aren’t that stupid.”

Yoongi sees the look in Jin’s eyes, like he’s about to argue, about to tell him all the reasons he should have never left Court in the first place, but they’ve been over it. They’ve rehashed the argument so many times, it’s left a bad taste in Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m gonna go find a drink before the battle starts. If I don’t see you, hyung, Namjoon, have a good night,” Yoongi says with a mock salute before he saunters away in desperate need of libation. He feels the eyes of not just his friends, but also of every fae in the room, follow him as he goes. He swallows the irritation down. He’ll save it for the floor.

~

“This was a mistake,” Jimin says. The three of them are standing across the street, encased in darkness with half the street lamps out, looking at the large warehouse where the Friends Only was probably already in full swing. From outside it’s dark and quiet. Not a stray bass note or strobe light makes an appearance on the quiet industrial block. Jimin shudders at the thought of the magic it took to create such a large masking spell, his stomach churning.

“How about this,” Hoseok says, voice pitched ready for negotiation. Well, he’s going to sound like he’s negotiating, but what he’s really going to do is convince Jimin to do whatever he wants him to, but Jimin will feel like he compromised somehow. “We’ll just pop in, watch a battle or two, have a drink, maybe take one spin on the floor, and then bounce.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh. “That’s basically the whole Friends Only, hyung.”

“Well, you can’t not see a battle. Those are half the fun of a Friends Only,” Hoseok argues.

“He’s right, you know,” Jungkook chimes in.

Jimin’s eyes narrow at him. “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.

“I’m not drinking,” Jimin says after giving Jungkook the stink eye.

“No one’s gonna try anything,” Hoseok says. “It’s a fucking Friends Only. They’d be dumb to.”

“I’m not fucking drinking, hyung,” Jimin says with finality. 

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to drink.”

“Let’s go,” Jungkook cuts in after looking back and forth between his hyungs.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Jimin says.

After they show their text message to the bouncer and get their hands stamped, they stand letting the scene before them wash over them as their eyes adjust to the low lighting. Despite his reticence, Jimin feels the thrill of the bass as it vibrates through the dirt floor below his boots. His body is already itching to get out on the dance floor.

“You have your phone, yes?” Hoseok yells into his ear. “Call if you need anything. And I mean, anything, right, Jimin-ah?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jimin answers, making sure to look Hoseok in the eye so he knows he’s serious.

“Alright, have fun!” Hoseok gives a blinding dimpled smile and then is off into the crowd.

Jimin scoffs and turns to see if Jungkook wants to dance, only to find Jungkook is already gone.

“Fuckers,” Jimin mutters under his breath.

He inhales deeply, ignoring the niggling anxiety in favor of the thrum of excitement that pushes from inside his chest. He decides he’ll make his way over to the pit where they have the battles, so he can snag a good spot. Hoseok was right when he said the battles are half the fun of coming to these things.

After pushing his way through the crowd, he’s pleased to see not many have gathered yet. The best spot along the wooden fencing that blocks the “pit” off from the main part of the warehouse is still devoid of people. The pit is not really a pit, just a cordoned off part of the floor, really, various barriers put in place to keep onlookers from crowding participants. The wooden fence is considered prime real estate because it’s stable enough to lean against comfortably and the view is great. Plus, sometimes if a battler is in the mood, they’ll come interact with the audience and the fence is the best point of access.

Jimin leans happily against the fence, chest pressed into the top rail of wood, fingers drumming in beat with the music. Pleased he’s going to be able to check Hoseok’s Friends Only to do list off quickly, he lets his thoughts drift as he waits for the battles to start. He vaguely wishes he had thought to grab a bottle of water on the way over.

“Hey, gorgeous, you here all alone?” a saccharine sweet voice drips out next to him.

Jimin doesn’t move, only flicking his eyes to the left to see the man that had ambled up next to him, leaning his back against the fence.

“You mean, like on this planet or here at the pit?” Jimin asks, biting the inside of his cheek.

The man laughs brightly, loudly. Not bright like Hoseok hyung’s laugh, but a fake shrill sound that grates on Jimin’s ears. “I’ll take the answer to either, but I meant here at the Friends Only, gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not,” Jimin says tersely. He’s already over whatever this guy thinks he’s trying to do right now.

“Well, I don’t see anyone,” the man replies.

Typical. Jimin moves his head subtly, just slightly, to get a better look at the man while trying to not appear too obvious. He’s tall with big muscles threatening to rip the skin tight white tee he has on. Jimin bites at his cheek again, assessing. He curses, not for the first or last time, that he’s human and can’t feel out if the guy is fae.

It’s a Friends Only. The odds aren’t in Jimin’s favor.

“Like what you see?” the man asks. His tone is smug, obnoxious.

Jimin scoffs, but almost chokes as the man turns his head to face Jimin. His eyes glint silver and as he smiles, it’s a little too wide. Like someone was trying to create a human but didn’t quite know what one looked like, just this side of creepy as fuck. Guess that answers the fae question.

“Not really my type, sorry,” Jimin grits out, turning to face firmly forward again, hoping for the battle to just start already.

“Ah, don’t judge a book by the cover, gorgeous,” the man says. “I’m sure I can be exactly what you like.”

“Seriously doubt it, so, no thanks,” Jimin says, refusing to move, to look at the man.

He doesn’t relax even as the man remains quiet. Then the MC is yelling into the mic.

“Hey, hey, hey, party people! You made it to the Only Friends! You ready to rumble?!” the woman shouts, cutting through the music on the speakers near the pit.

Jimin starts in surprise as he hears shouts and screams, realizing that at some point in the last few minutes the crowd must have filled in around him.

“Make some noise!” the MC shouts.

The screams and shouts grow louder. People around Jimin are stomping their feet, vibrating the dirt of the floor. Jimin joins them with a simple loud “whoop” and stomps his feet. He feels the thrill sing in his veins.

“Alright, alright! First up, we have two competitors who have battled in the pit before! Please welcome K-K-K-KilllerKraft aaand YoFlow!”

The lights flash in brightly strobing rainbows as the crowd thrums in excitement. Jimin feels bodies press in around him. People manage to stay fairly respectful, even if they are hoping to get that much closer to the action, but he notices the man that had been poorly hitting on him earlier is definitely taking advantage of the proximity. He can feel like sides bump into one another, even if the man is keeping himself facing the pit.

Two men come out to the pit to more shouting and screaming from the crowd. Jimin does his best to ignore the constant presses at his side, watching the pit. He’s seen YoFlow perform before, not having been particularly impressed with his flow, despite the choice of stage names. KillerKraft is a new name for Jimin, so he waits to see what he’s got to offer.

The two men in the pit turn to face one another, each holding a mic in their hands. They are both posturing, making gestures and moving in circles confidently around the pit. Neither seem to remember there is an audience at all, both focused on the other.

Jimin sighs. He’s been to enough battles that he knows this is going to be a boring one. The two men are way too focused on dick measuring instead of performing. Sure enough, as soon as the music dropped signalling the start of the battle, the beat and flow changing, the crowd falling silent in anticipation, YoFlow jumps into lyrics about how many women he fucked this week. Boring. And also lies, Jimin thinks, looking YoFlow over. There is no way he’s getting women to give him a second look with that attitude.

KillerKraft is marginally better. The bar is low though, so that’s not really saying much. At least he manages to use some metaphor as he plays off some of YoFlow’s lyrics. Boring.

That’s when Jimin feels the creeping sensation at the back of his neck. At first he thinks it’s just in his head. He gets like that sometimes. So anxious he starts seeing or feeling things. But it doesn’t stop. Then the weight of the man who had lodged himself without permission against his side moves, so he’s half behind Jimin, pressing into his back. This forces his chest to dig uncomfortably into the wood in front of him. Panic wells up inside of Jimin. He has a half-fleeting thought that this behavior is very on theme .

“Fucking get off me,” he says, or tries to. It comes out as more of a wheeze between the panic gripping his throat and the pressure of the wooden beam on his lungs.

He can feel a hot breath on his neck as the man leans in to speak into his ear. “Just relax, gorgeous. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

And Jimin can feel it. The words are laced with symbols, infused with whatever fae magic this guy is channeling. The panic rises and rises, his heart pounding, throat closing.

“St-st-stop it,” he pants out. He briefly thinks of trying to thrust his elbow backwards, maybe get the guy to step back so he can get away, but his arms are sluggish and awkwardly trapped up by his chest on the wooden fence beam.

“Or what,” the man breathes. “What are you going to do, human?”

Tears prick his eyes as he feels his body involuntarily relaxing everywhere the man is touching, the spell taking effect. Everything feels heavy and it takes all his willpower to keep from sinking backwards into the man completely. A tear rolls down his cheek as he hears the man’s pleased, “That’s it, gorgeous. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.”

Fucking Friends Only. Fucking magic. Fucking fae. He’s going to kill Hoseok for bringing him here. He’s going to hate himself forever for letting himself come here. The scream that’s building, building, building in his throat chokes him, having nowhere to go, no escape.

~

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders to loosen them up under his leather jacket. He jumps a bit in place, getting blood flowing. He’d been half-listening to the first battle and he’s a bit disappointed at the competition. He could really use a real challenge. He thinks he should have worked harder to get Namjoon to sign up. Then maybe he’d feel a lick of anxiety right now. He runs his hand through his jaw-length hair.

“Okay, give a big round of applause for KillerKraft, winner of our first battle!” the MC shouts through the mic. “And let’s make some noise to encourage YoFlow! Better luck next time!”

Yoongi scoffs. Fucking Friends Only. Ridiculous. Why not just give everyone gold stars? Participation trophies?

“And nowwwwww!!” the MC continues. “We have a special treat, folks! A legend walks among us! Make some noise for our one and only, Agust D!”

With one swift inhale and one long exhale, Yoongi becomes Agust D and walks out into the pit. The crowd is so loud the ground shakes. Yoongi can never get used to it—the enthrallment, not spelled, that takes over the crowd whenever he’s on stage. Agust D, however, soaks that shit up. It keeps his heart beating.

With cold eyes and subtle movements, he steps around the pit, facing his opponent. This KillerKraft is new on the circuit, a kid. Agust D can see through all the bravado, immediately spots every single weakness, and gets ready to strike.

Agust D smirks as KillerKraft opens his rap keeping with the motif of the last battle—sexual conquests and prowess. Child’s play. The kid falters at Agust D’s smirk, knows he’s waded too deep, he’s out of the kiddy pool without his floaties.

The beat shifts, changes, and the MC shouts “Agust D!”

The crowd is screaming before Agust D even has the mic up to his lips. His eyes glint steel, boring a hole into the kid in front of him.

“Hey you, thinking you’re a contender,

Spending all your time begging women to look your direction

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology

Go back to school kid, Get your grades up kid

Watch me a while, Study this flow here

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology”

Agust D turns from the kid then, who is pale and clearly knows he’s beat, and looks out to the audience. The crowd is screaming and jumping, losing their minds as Agust D keeps rapping. He walks along the edge of the pit, occasionally reaching a hand out, letting people from the crowd brush his palm. Every single person is in the zone with him, flowing along with his cadence, like one organism writhing with life.

All except one person. Agust D, wraps up his last stanza and the MC is shouting about his victory as he comes up to a section of the wooden fence where a man—beautiful, ethereal—is leaned chest against the wood, knuckles white as fingers grip the top of the beam. A tear track on his cheek, streaked black with his makeup, is shocking against his skin. Aside from the tension in his hands, his body seems relaxed. A large man—sylph by the looks of him—is standing directly behind, towering over the angelic man. At a glance it might look like they are just leaning into one another enjoying the show. But Agust D, following the tension in the shorter man’s hands juxtaposed with his body being propped up by the larger man, not to mention the tear, is setting off all kinds of alarms.

So, instead of going back to the center of the pit to accept his victory in the battle, he continues walking until he’s directly in front of the pair, only separated by the wooden fence. He watches the man’s wide teary eyes follow him as he approaches.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Agust D asks the shorter man, not even bothering to look in the taller man’s direction.

He doesn’t need a verbal response. The large eyes, brimming with more tears are enough to tell him all he needs to know.

“Okay,” Agust D says. He flicks his eyes up to the taller man who is staring down at him looking enraged. “I suggest you back the fuck off now.”

“Fuck you, I found him first,” the man spits out.

Possibly, maybe, in this moment, if Yoongi were Yoongi, this would go down a bit differently. But Agust D is at the mic. The mic that he lifts to his face. The face that is smirking, fire burning in his eyes. The man looks back confidently, smiling too widely, challenging the rapper.

So Agust D accepts the challenge.

“Everyone! We having a good night?” Agust D asks.

The crowd screams.

“I can’t hear you,” Agust D says calmly into the mic.

The crowd writhes, pushing forward as feet stomp and voices pitch higher.

“Everyone, make some fucking noise!” Agust D growls, elongating all the vowels as he speaks.

The crowd screams so loudly, his ears go fuzzy and he feels the shock in his skull. 

After the crowd settles down a little, waiting for Agust D’s next words, he speaks again. “Friends Only is a great place, don’t you think?”

Screams of agreement ring out.

“Well, we have a problem here at tonight’s Friends Only, everyone,” Agust D says, eyes locking with the taller man who is now gripping tightly at the shorter man’s upper arms. That’s going to leave bruises. Agust D sees red. “Someone has used their magic on one of our Friends without their consent, everyone. You and I both know that ruins the fun for everyone. Isn’t that right?”

There are gasps and angry cries in the crowd now as people start to catch on to what Agust D is saying.

“What do we do to people who use magic on a Friend without consent, everyone?”

The crowd responds immediately in a unified voice, “Life ban! Life ban! Life ban!”

“That’s right. Life ban. So I suggest you get fucking lost, asshole,” Agust D keeps his piercing gaze on the taller man. “I know your face. You fucked up at a Friends Only. Consider this Friendship canceled. Get the fuck out.”

The crowd keeps chanting “Life ban!” as the man—finally—steps away from the shorter man, who collapses against the fence, barely holding himself up. The taller man, anger still clear as day on his face, storms through the crowd, cursing as he goes.

Agust D turns to the MC, shouts “catch” a moment before throwing the mic at them, and then is launching himself over the wooden fence in the blink of an eye. When he lands in the dirt on the other side, Agust D melts away and Yoongi is left reaching out for the man who is sliding down to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Hey, hey, there we go,” Yoongi murmurs as he slides down next to the other man, catching him under his arm before he completely hits the floor. Yoongi helps him all the way down so his back is propped up against the fence, still holding him up with one arm.

“Can you speak?” Yoongi asks, watching the man’s face carefully.

The man’s throat convulses several times as he swallows, clearly trying to get control back of his body.

“Can I– fuck,” Yoongi says as he watches the man’s eyes fill with tears again. “Can I ask permission to summon a release spell? It won’t do anything but undo some of that asshole’s summons.”

The man is trembling slightly, his eyes are wide, tears flowing down his cheeks again, but—almost imperceptibly—he nods.

Yoongi nods in return and then closes his eyes. In general, he doesn’t spell much, at least not this way. His music is a kind of magic, too, but takes none of the effort that summoning spells does. He imagines the symbols for release and freedom. He wants to add one for peace or safety but knows that would be a step too far, so he leaves it. With a soft hum on his lips, he pulls at the magic and it pulses through his own arm where he’s holding onto the man.

The man pulls in a loud gasp, gulping at air, and a full-fledged panic attack crashes over him. Yoongi adjusts himself so the man is leaning more firmly against the fence post, so that Yoongi can get eye-to-eye with the man.

“Hey, Friend, can you hear me?” Yoongi asks.

The man’s breathing is so rapid, Yoongi is afraid he’s going to pass out. He’s shivering too, which Yoongi frowns at. The man’s tight tee and leggings not helping him be warm or comfortable. Yoongi shrugs himself out of his leather jacket and pulls the man forward enough to get the jacket around his shoulders. Then he settles the man back against the fence post and watches as he gasps for air.

“Listen to my voice, Friend,” Yoongi continues. “Follow my breathing. In– and out– that’s right.”

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, the man’s breathing finally, finally regulating.

“There we go,” Yoongi says. “What’s your name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin,” the man says. He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with his hands and then gasps at his hands as they come back black from the makeup. Almost to himself, as he wipes the makeup stains onto his pants, he mutters, “Fuck. I fucking hate Friends Only.”

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says after a moment. “Is there someone we can call?”

Jimin laughs. It’s a bit pitched, a bit hysterical. Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Jimin pushes himself up, making to stand instead of continuing to sit on the dirt floor. Yoongi hovers but doesn’t touch him. Jimin leans himself against the pole, now standing mostly upright, shrugging Yoongi’s leather jacket around himself.

“I know who you are. You’re literally a famous rapper,” Jimin says, voice as pitched and hysterical as his laugh. In a different context he might sound cheeky or mocking in a friendly way. But here, in this tucked away corner of the warehouse, he sounds lost, terrified.

“Do you have someone you can call?” Yoongi asks again. He wants to reach out with a hand and hold Jimin in some way, to help him, but he knows more unprovoked, unconsented touch right now will not be helpful.

“Yeah. I-” Jimin starts, but is cut off by another voice shrieking his name.

Yoongi watches as V comes barreling towards them across the floor, the crowd that had formed around the pit completely dissipated now that the entertainment is over.

“Jimin?! Jimin! What the fuck happened?”

~

Jimin feels the breath get knocked out of him all over again as a body engulfs him in a full body hug. His back presses up against the fence once more, but instead of anxious, he feels safe and protected.

“Taehyung,” he breathes into the other man’s neck. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Taehyung pulls back and looks at Jimin’s face. His hands come up to cup Jimin’s cheeks, thumbs wiping away some of the smeared makeup. Jimin melts into the gentle touches.

“What happened, Jimin-ah?” he asks.

“There was a guy– an asshole,” Jimin starts, but finds he can’t really come up with the right words. His eyes flit from Taehyung’s face to Yoongi’s, who is standing in the same place he had been before Taehyung’s arrival.

Taehyung follows the movement of Jimin’s eyes and turns to look at Yoongi. 

“Is this the asshole?” Taehyung asks, his face the perfect picture of confusion.

“No! No! He– he helped me,” Jimin says quickly.

“Do you two know each other?” Yoongi asks. He looks back and forth between the two, noting how Taehyung’s hands are still caressing Jimin’s cheeks.

“This is my soulmate! Jimin!” Taehyung says enthusiastically. 

Jimin watches as Yoongi furrows his brow for a moment and then a look of enlightenment blooms on his face. He smiles as he says, “Oh, you’re Park Jimin. I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry.”

Jimin blinks at Yoongi’s smile. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it. He’s been going to battles for the last couple of years, ever since Hoseok took him to one his first weekend after moving to Seoul. Of course, he realizes, he’s never really seen Yoongi before either. He’s only really seen Agust D. Agust D has a wicked, soul-crushing smirk, but never smiles. Which is hot as hell, but Jimin thinks he might actually find Yoongi’s sweet gum-filled smile more attractive.

“Wait,” Jimin says, jolting in an epiphany. He points a finger back and forth between the two men. “Do you know each other?”

“Yoongi is my hyung,” Taehyung says happily, as if that is enough explanation of anything. “But seriously, what happened?”

This time Taehyung glances back to Yoongi to see if he’ll fill in any of the details. Yoongi looks at Jimin with a question in his eyes. Jimin nods. “I– I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now. But you can tell him.” 

Yoongi nods before he looks at Taehyung. He says slowly, “Well, the short version is some asshole sylph spelled Jimin without his consent and I had to ban him.”

“What the fuck?” Taehyung screeches. Now he’s pulling Jimin back in front of him by the shoulders and inspecting him all over. “What did he do? What the fuck? This is a Friends Only . Oh, my goddess, and in front of you , hyung. What the fuck was he thinking?”

Jimin is jostled this way and that as Taehyung keeps on with his inspection. He’s starting to shake a bit again, at the memories of the spell that had seeped in his veins, unfortunately far too similar to the exhaustion left in the wake of his panic attack. A shiver runs up his spine and then he starts feeling a bit dizzy.

“V, look, I banned him, okay?” Yoongi is saying flatly.

“Should have fucked him up first, is what I’m saying, hyung,” Taehyung replies with a pout.

Yoongi laughs. Jimin watches him, even with his vision swimming a bit. Is this normal? Or is this residual effects of the spelling? Multiple spells, he remembers. His breath catches. Yoongi can summon. Fuck, Yoongi can summon.

“Are you okay, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asks. His hands are back on Jimin’s cheeks, moving to feel his forehead. “You’re a little cold. Are you feeling ill?”

Then he glances at Yoongi, and says, “What did that asshole do?”

“I don’t know, I think it was just a standard immobility spell,” Yoongi says with a frown. He steps a bit closer to look at Jimin’s eyes. Jimin gulps in air as his lungs seize in fear. Yoongi stops and takes a step back again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jimin-ssi.”

“Hyung is good, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung murmurs comfortingly. “He won’t hurt you.”

Jimin shakes his head. He’s not sure what he’s saying no to. It’s not that he thinks Yoongi will hurt him, per se. Shaking his head brings the dizziness back full force. He throws his arms out, flailing for something to hold onto before he falls over. Taehyung is there immediately, arm under his curled protectively around his back, keeping him upright.

“He’s really cold, hyung,” Jimin hears Taehyung say. “Jimin-ah? Who did you come with?”

“Ho-Hoseok hyung, Jungkook,” Jimin mutters out through gritted teeth, sure if he opens his mouth too widely he will throw up. “Uh, ‘m not, not feeling good.”

The room is well and truly spinning now. Jimin is pretty sure he says, “Wanna go home, Tae-ah,” right before everything goes black.

~

“What the fuck?” Hoseok says again. Yoongi’s lost count of the number of times the man has uttered the phrase in the last 10 minutes. Each time he’s put different emphasis on the words, perhaps stressing the parts that are most perplexing to him in the moment. He stares down at Jimin, sound asleep on the couch, as he says, again, “What the fuck ?”

“Did any of the cameras catch that guy? Any of the wards? We should be pressing charges,” Jungkook says, eyes flashing gold in the light. He’s tense, hands fists at his side. He’s on the far side of the room, as if he’s afraid his negative energy is going to somehow impact Jimin’s sleep. Of course, with Jungkook, that’s not an impossibility.

“Namjoon and Jin are talking to security right now,” Taehyung says. He’s sitting on the floor of the small room, leaning up against the couch, hand slowly carding through Jimin’s hair as he watches the man sleep. He had already cleaned Jimin’s face and hands free of makeup with a wet cloth early. Yoongi watches, mesmerized by the tender care exhibited by the normally no-nonsense, zero shits given V.

The room itself holds nothing but a filing cabinet, a table, both shoved against one wall gathering dust, and the couch. For the gathering tonight, it’s meant to be a rest area, and seems to be serving its purpose well at the moment. 

“What the fuck,” Hoseok growls, his hands yanking at his own short hair in frustration. “I brought him here thinking he’d be safe. He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. He seems to have deflated some of his anger. “Friends Only is supposed to be safe. We couldn’t have known.”

“How is it that all of you know him,” Yoongi says, waving towards the sleeping man, “and I’ve never met him.”

The other three men glance at each other and shrug in unison.

“Well, I’ve known him since university,” Taehyung says and looks at the other two men.

“And, as you might have guessed,” Hoseok says, “we dance together.”

Everyone glances at Jungkook who looks tense again. His jaw flexes as he says in a low tone, “I’m his Guardian.”

“Ah,” is all Yoongi says, glancing back at Jimin.

“I actually didn’t realize he and Tae were close until now,” Hoseok adds.

“Soulmates,” Taehyung corrects. He looks back down at Jimin and whispers, “Soulmates.”

Yoongi nods. He feels a bit like a creep watching Jimin sleep, so he looks up and around the room, occasionally accidentally making eye contact with the others as they all stand vigil forcing his eyes to pingpong all over the place. Nervously he quickly glances at Jimin again. Yoongi is feeling oddly protective of this man he just met. He doesn’t know his story, but Yoongi is finding he really wants to know it.

“I need to get back to the floor,” Taehyung says, reluctance clear in his tone. “You’ll stay with him?”

Yoongi is surprised that Taehyung is addressing him and not the other two men in the room—the men that are actually Jimin’s friends. Everyone is looking at him and he feels sick as he recognizes the looks on their faces. Reverence, respect, deference. All the foolishness he’d left behind when he walked away from the Seelie Court. He glances down at Jimin again and understands. They’re trusting him, Yoongi, to protect their friend.

“I, uh, yes,” Yoongi says after a long pause. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his teeth. “I’ll stay.”

With that, Taehyung nods and stands, dusting the dirt off his trousers. “Thank you, hyung. If there’s a lull, I’ll come check on you.”

“Let me go with you,” Hoseok says. “I want to see what Namjoon and Jin have found on the CCTV.”

Yoongi watches as both men walk out and then looks at Jungkook. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

The younger man, eyes still trained on the sleeping man on the couch, just shrugs. After a moment he says, “I’ve been better.”

Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know much about imugi guardian bonds, but considering how protective he himself is feeling for the human sleeping away on the couch completely unconscious to the turmoil going around in his friend group, he can’t imagine Jungkook is feeling great. Yoongi allows himself to ponder for a moment more what it is about this human that has everyone so whipped. Yoongi is broken out of his reverie as Jungkook shifts in his place on the far side of the room, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“Do– do you think something is wrong with him?” Jungkook asks in a small voice.

Yoongi looks at him carefully, noting the gold glint in his eyes and the way his fists are white-knuckled and tense at his side still. He answers him slowly, “I think he’s human and was put through a lot of stress. I got rid of all the casting on him, but I think his body still needs to recover from the effects.”

“But he will recover,” Jungkook says. It sounds like a statement, but there’s just enough tremor in his voice to make it sound uncertain.

“He will recover, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says. “He’ll be fine.”

They fall into a silent vigil after that, only the muffled thrum of the bass from the dance music can be heard through the walls, waiting for the others to come back with news or for Jimin to wake up. Yoongi finds his mind wandering, thinking through how the day had gone absolutely fucking sideways. He can’t entirely say he regrets it though.

“Cocky little shit probably didn’t even realize we use CCTV in this place,” Jin says. He and Namjoon returned less than an hour after they settled Jimin on the couch in the lounge.

“Cocky? Or an idiot?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow raised.

“Probably both, honestly,” Namjoon says. “We were able to pull multiple angles of his face before, during, and after the, uh, incident.”

“It’s already been sent around to those that need to know,” Jin says. “If he’s smart, he’ll have already fucked off back to the Dreaming or at least out of this city.”

“What are the chances we’ll get that lucky?” Yoongi grumbles. “You said it. Cocky and stupid. Not a winning combo.”

“He better hope he doesn’t run into me on the street,” Jungkook says darkly.

Yoongi eyes him warily. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid. You can’t Guard him if you’re banished back to the Dreaming.”

Jungkook gives a huff and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of the sylph then,” Jin says, patting Yoongi on the shoulder.

~

The first thing Jimin is aware of is his pounding headache. His hands immediately go up to rub his temples to try to find some relief. He slowly tries to squint his eyes open, but the fluorescent lighting makes the pounding in his head worse. With a groan, he pushes himself upright, the world spinning for a moment as he tries to piece together how he got here.

“Woah, woah, not too fast,” Jimin hears a low, gravely voice say. 

“Drink this, hyung,” a much more familiar voice says and a bottle of water is floating in front of his face.

He gulps the whole bottle down greedily. He looks around the room again as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s half-laying, half-sitting on a dingy couch in what looks like a converted office or storeroom. Kneeling in front of him are Agust D— what the fuck —and Jungkook. Where Agust D’s face looks neutral, Jungkook’s is pinched with worry.

“How are you feeling, hyung?” Jungkook says, gently taking the empty water bottle and cap out of Jimin’s hands.

‘I– what happened?” Jimin finally asks, mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how he got here. His memory is coming back in snapshots and the images he’s seeing are disconcerting to say the least.

“Do you remember the rap battle?” Jungkook asks. Jimin thought he’d looked worried a moment ago, but that was apparently just mild concern. The look on his face now is definitely worried.

“I– oh,” Jimin says as soon as he does remember the rap battle. “There was a handsy asshole that wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Then the evening clicks into place. Jimin shuts his eyes as he says, “Oh, he used magic on me. He fucking magic-roofied me.”

Jungkook makes a small whimpering, broken sound in his throat. Jimin throws his eyes back open to see the tears welling up in Jungkook’s eyes. Without thinking he opens his arms and Jungkook falls into them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, hyung,” Jungkook says in a small voice. “The hyungs are making sure he can’t come back, won’t bother you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Won’t leave you alone again.”

“Hush,” Jimin says, patting Jungkook’s back. The sadness in Jungkook’s voice is the most sobering of medicines. “It’s not your fault. It’s that magic-wielding fae’s fault. No one else’s. Besides, what could you have done anyway, huh? You know I’d rather see you safe.”

Jungkook nods from Jimin’s shoulder, his face buried in Jimin’s neck. The man still kneeling on the floor in front of the couch makes a small coughing noise that Jimin almost mistakes for a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes flick over to the man, Agust D—no, he’s Yoongi right now—still has a neutral expression on his face. His hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail. Jimin feels a needling sense of irritation in his chest at the sight of him. In entirely different circumstances, Jimin would find him attractive—like beyond attractive, really. But the fact is, they are in these circumstances and Jimin finds the pull to this man irritating at best.

“Why are you here, exactly?” Jimin asks.

“Your friends asked me to look out for you,” Yoongi says calmly.

Jungkook pushes himself up so that he’s sitting at Jimin’s knees, on the edge of the couch. Jimin keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“Well,” Jimin continues shortly, waving his hand at himself dismissively, “as you can see, I am now fine. So, you can fuck off.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, sounding aghast.

“No, Jungkook, don’t,” Jimin says. He refuses to take his eye off the fae in front of him though. “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi, for stepping in and for helping my friends out. I am no longer in need of your services.”

Yoongi opens his mouth and then closes it again. Jimin narrows his eyes at him, challenging him to try arguing. Just as Yoongi opens his mouth again, the door to the room opens and Hoseok walks in with two other men. Jimin has to do a double-take to realize it’s Namjoon and his boyfriend.

“You’re awake!” Hoseok says cheerfully as he hurries over to Jimin’s side, nudging Yoongi out of the way. Yoongi nearly falls over, but catches himself and stands up, fading into the background of the group as everyone crowds around.

Jimin looks at everyone’s stricken faces and plasters a smile on his face and lies, “I’m fine. Everyone is so dramatic.”

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok starts.

“No, no, you know what,” Jimin interrupts. “I am going to go dance. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m going to go dance, like I planned. Then I’m going to go home. Everyone is being so ridiculous.”

He pushes himself up off the couch in one movement and only feels a little bit dizzy. He hides it well, he thinks. Hoseok hovers at his elbow, but doesn’t intervene. Jungkook stands to be at his other side. With the two of them flanking him, he feels fairly confident.

“Jimin, are you sure? I can take you home,” Namjoon says.

“No, hyung, that’s okay,” Jimin says as he shakes his head. He’s incredibly impressed with himself at how stable he sounds. “I don’t want to ruin your night. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Namjoon’s boyfriend says. Jimin feels a little bad that he can’t remember his name right now.

“No, hyung, I’m okay,” Jimin is even more impressed with himself now that he manages to sound exasperated.

Yoongi, who has edged back into the circle of men standing around Jimin, says softly, “I can stay with you or, well, not actually dancing, but I can keep an eye out.”

Jimin tenses to hide his shudder. “No, thank you, again, Yoongi-ssi. I’ve had quite enough of fae tonight, thank you.”

With that declaration he turns on his heel and walks to the door, confidently pulls it open, and steps back out into the warehouse.

~

Jungkook and Hoseok are quick on Jimin’s heels as he makes his dramatic exit from the rest room. Hoseok throws an apologetic smile over his shoulder before he’s shutting the door behind him. In the few seconds the door is open, the room seems to fill with music, but the silence after the door shuts is deafening.

“Does– does he not know you are all fae?” Yoongi says to no one in particular in the wake of Jimin’s departure.

“I guess not,” Jin says with a click of his tongue. 

Namjoon looks just as bewildered as the other two as he says, “I guess it never came up?”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh then, perhaps bordering on hysterical. He says faintly, “That’s– that’s maybe the most nonsensical encounter I’ve ever had in my life. And I fucking lived at Court for years. What the fuck.”

Neither Jin nor Namjoon seem to have a response to that other than for Jin to give Yoongi’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Are you going to report that sylph to the Court, Joon-ah?” Yoongi asks. “He really shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with humans.”

“I do think he is a liability walking around Seoul,” Namjoon agrees.

“You know, Yoongi-chi,” Jin says. He kicks the heel of his right foot against the toes of his left, looking the picture of innocence, even as his voice sounds coy. “You could deliver the report yourself. It would have more weight coming from you.”

Yoongi scoffs. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before he says, “You know fucking well that Namjoon’s voice has plenty of weight.”

“Well, just think about it,” Jin says.

Yoongi slowly nods his head in a way he knows can only be interpreted as sarcastic.

“Okay, well, this has been some kind of evening,” Yoongi says. “I’m gonna fuck off home now.”

He pats his side for his phone only to discover his pocket isn’t there, because he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Because Jimin is wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Then he laughs again—breathy with an edge to it. Then he growls, “Fuck!”

The two men in front of him look understandably bewildered. Namjoon opens his mouth to ask, but Yoongi is already moving towards the door.

As Yoongi rips the door open, he yells back at the two wide-eyed men, “I gave my fucking jacket to the kid and the jacket has my phone in it!”

Yoongi decides to ignore Jin’s stage whisper, “how chivalrous” as he stalks out to the dance floor.

Following the thumping of the bass and skirting around the throng of people dancing in the warehouse, Yoongi finally spots Jimin dancing sandwiched in between Hoseok and Jungkook, who are each facing inward. There’s a fine cloud of dust from the dirt floor of the warehouse, creating a hazy scene. They are all moving their hips synchronously, arms draped across each other’s hips and shoulders. They all look hot and sweaty. Entirely too warm to be wearing Yoongi’s leather jacket, which Jimin still is. Jimin tilts his head back in a clear laugh, even though nothing can be heard above the din of the music.

Yoongi grits his teeth, eyes are trained on Jimin, as he feels a spark of heat ignite in his gut. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Park Jimin is a menace. Whatever it is he and Jimin are doing right now, Yoongi knows he needs to come out on top or have the last word or whatever it is. He needs it. So, Yoongi decides to go find something to drink and wait the younger man out. Yoongi is nothing if not a patient man.

~

Jimin can see Yoongi watching him. Jimin hates it. He’s determined to ignore it. He carefully starts to move Yoongi out of his line of sight, slowly but surely navigating the trio in the opposite direction so that he doesn’t have to see him staring at him and feel heat from his gaze any longer. Every time he tries to move his trio of dancers around the dance floor, he still somehow catches Yoongi’s eyes on him, dark gaze piercing through his skin into his bones and nerves. Jimin’s skin crawls with the feeling of eyes on him. A part of him is angry about the fact that he likes it, likes that feeling. It makes him feel important, desired almost. But he quickly pushes the thought away, knowing it’s dangerous and alluring in equal measure. His frustration builds until he can’t take it anymore and can’t be held responsible for what he does next.

“Mother fucker, what is his problem?” Jimin growls out.

His two dance partners, clearly still on alert from earlier, whip their heads up to look at him, stopping right in the middle of the dance floor. Jungkook’s hands hover over Jimin, eyes scanning, as if checking for injuries.

“What is it? What happened?” Hoseok asks.

“He’s fucking watching me!” Jimin says, ignoring the ridiculous hysteria of his two friends.

“Who? Who is watching you?” Jungkook says quickly, whipping his head all around as if looking for some boogieman to come out of the dance floor.

“Min Fucking Yoongi,” Jimin grits out.

Much to Jimin’s annoyance, both his dance partners visibly deflate, tension leaving their bodies.

Jimin bites back his urge to scream in frustration and instead yells, “Why do you guys trust him? He can fucking cast! Why are you even friends with him? How are you even friends with him?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when Hoseok cuts him off with a shake of his head. Instead, the older man wraps his hand around Jimin’s waist to steer him off the dance floor, Jungkook trailing behind them.

“Hyung,” Jimin says shortly, once they are away from the swaying mass of dancing bodies, towards the outer edge of the warehouse where it’s a little easier to hear one another.

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says sweetly. “Maybe we should call it a night, hm? It’s been a hard night, yeah?”

“Okay, I know that face,” Jimin says, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying to me. There’s something you’re not saying. What the hell is going on?”

Hoseok has the gall to look sheepish. His gaze stays low and he puts his hands in his pockets. Jimin glances at Jungkook who is also looking awkwardly down at his own boots, nervously twisting the ball of one foot into the dirt.

“Here you are!” a shrill voice calls out. Jimin looks to see Namjoon and his boyfriend approaching. Namjoon’s boyfriend—Jimin is feeling increasingly angry at himself for not remembering his name—is apparently the one that called out to them. “I thought you would have gone home after a few dances!”

“Hyung!” Hoseok says cheerfully, his smile heart-shaped, all remnants of sheepishness gone.

“We were just talking about taking off,” Jungkook says. He, Jimin thinks, at least has the decency to look a little wary and guilty.

“The fuck we were,” Jimin growls. “These two were about to explain to me the thing none of you are saying. Why do you trust Min Yoongi? Why are you friends with him?”

“Why are we friends with Min Yoongi?” Namjoon’s boyfriend blinks.

Jimin crosses his arms across his chest to keep himself from exploding. “Yes, why do you all hang out with a fae?”

“I really think we should head home,” Hoseok tries again. But, at the same time, Namjoon, still trying to understand Jimin’s question, speaks over the top of him.

“I don’t understand why we wouldn’t know Yoongi hyung. We all know each other from Court.” Namjoon says. He turns to confirm this with the others as Jimin stares at him, Namjoon’s words sinking into Jimin’s skull.

Jimin thinks everyone starts screaming at Namjoon, but he’s not sure. His ears go fuzzy with white noise and it feels like someone pulled the bottom out from the floor. He frowns at his group of friends, all bickering and gesticulating at one another.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says in a neutral voice. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say– did you just say you’re fae?”

With a mind that has gone amazingly blank, he waves his hand around the group of four to accentuate his point. “All of you are fae?”

The silence is telling. Jimin doesn’t even have the courage to look at their faces. He swallows thickly. “Is anyone else fae around here that hasn’t bothered to tell me?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon supplies, with Hoseok body slamming him a half a second later.

“Taehyung,” Jimin repeats blankly. “My Taehyung?”

Again, silence falls across the group.

Jimin is sure the music is still playing. The party goes on. But none of that matters. He doesn’t hear any of it. All he hears is static. Jimin’s eyes burn like embers with tears he absolutely refuses to shed. He feels betrayal like ice in his veins. Jimin can’t move. His limbs feel heavy, like lead, and his head is spinning. He feels like he’s in a dream. But this isn’t a dream. He reels trying to get some semblance of control back, feeling a little like he’s going mad.

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths as he tries to grapple with the revelation that everyone around him is fae, putting pieces together of his memories, trying to find the place where he missed this key detail. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can’t seem to shake off the feeling like he’s been the butt of some sick cosmic joke.

“Was there going to be a point in time when any of you thought to, I don’t know, tell me about this?” Jimin asks calmly.

He watches as the four men in front of him glance at each other. Anger flares up inside him, hot and fierce. He scoffs, an embittered smirk plastered on his face, and he rolls his eyes. He feels the anger build until he’s sure the lava inside him is visible even to those standing guiltily in front of him.

“Fuck this,” Jimin hisses. He’s spent the last several years apparently good friends with fae—a lot of fae. He looks at Jungkook, who he’s known forever, and feels his heart crack in his chest. He watches as a tear slides down Jungkook’s cheek. Jimin thinks he should feel bad, and maybe he will later, but right now he feels like all the people in front of him have just confirmed his suspicions—fae manipulate and spell to get what they want.

“Hyung, I can explain,” Jungkook’s broken voice is muffled by the static still echoing in Jimin’s ears. Jimin just numbly shakes his head.

Jimin realizes he’s been unknowingly playing with fire his whole life, a fire he grew up fearing, and his rage turns to impulsiveness. His mind whirring with ways he can take back control of this, of his life, of who he spends time with. At that moment he feels like there has only been one person this evening who has been honest with him. So, without another word to the speechless men— fae —in front of him, he turns on his heel, knowing exactly where the man is standing against the warehouse wall, still feeling his gaze burn holes into his skin, like a beacon.

Jimin can hear the surprised shouts and protests from his friends but he ignores them and stalks over to the man standing, one hand holding two water bottles, the other hand in his jeans pocket, t-shirt just tight enough to allow Jimin’s imagination to fill in the details of his chest and abs, permed hair still up in a half-ponytail, loose hairs framing his face beautifully. He’s so beautiful.

Jimin confidently strides towards the fae and watches as the barest flicker of confusion crosses the other’s face before he retrains the neutral gaze on Jimin. Without another thought he steps right into Yoongi’s space, chest to chest, gripping his shoulders, and pulls him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

For a moment, Yoongi is too stunned to respond, but soon he gives in to Jimin’s kiss. It’s hot and needy, the kind of kiss that tells Jimin Yoongi wants this as much as Jimin does. Jimin feels his heart pound faster as Yoongi leans into him, and he can practically feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s body. Jimin’s own impulsiveness terrifies him, but not enough to stop.

When they finally break apart, Jimin looks up at Yoongi looking for signs of regret or anger, but sees none. He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the fae’s, savoring the feeling of closeness, with their hot, panting breaths intermingling.

Then, without speaking, Jimin leans in again for another kiss. It’s rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth as they claim each other’s mouth. Jimin moans into the kiss, his entire body melting against Yoongi’s. As they kiss, Jimin can feel one of Yoongi’s hands slowly inching up his shirt, teasing the skin underneath, pressing around his waist. He gasps at the touch, his skin erupting into goosebumps, craving more. Their kisses become more feverish, more passionate, until Jimin feels like he can hardly breathe. All he can feel is heat and fire.

They pull apart once more to catch their breaths, they lean into one another, still panting. Hands still gripping at one another, the water bottles Yoongi had been holding forgotten at their feet.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, hot breath rustling in Jimin’s ear.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Jimin asks coyly through his panting, “Why are you watching me, Min Yoongi-ssi?”

“You’re wearing my jacket, Park Jimin-ssi,” the fae responds without missing a beat. He gives out a short, labored laugh. “With my phone. In the pocket. I couldn’t call a cab.”

As if to prove his point, Yoongi slowly moves his hand out from under Jimin’s shirt and reaches into the jacket pocket, pulling out a silver phone. He waves it in between their chests before sliding it into his own jeans’ back pocket.

Jimin, still breathing heavily, huffs out a long laugh. Then his smile drops and he leans further into Yoongi’s ear, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, and says softly, “Use that phone, hyung, and take me home.”

~

Yoongi is pretty sure the higher functioning parts of his brain shut off minutes ago when Park Jimin started kissing him. Now all he seems capable of is feeling the burning on his skin as one of Jimin’s hands trails up from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling with his nearly-shoulder-length hair there. Every hot spot along his body igniting where Jimin is pinning him against the wall, panting into his ear, his wet, hot breath sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind there is a niggling sensation of something forgotten, but Yoongi could not care less. That is, until he realizes Jimin has his eyes trained on him, waiting for a response to something. Did Jimin ask him a question?

Yoongi’s eyes move slowly from Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips to his eyes. Jimin raises his eyebrows expectantly. Yoongi manages to breathe out a quiet, “Oh.”

Then he ducks down and grabs the water bottles from the floor. He opens one and hands it to Jimin, who takes it with a confused look on his face. Then he opens the second one and chugs it in one go. Glancing at Jimin, he sees the younger man watching him drink. Then Jimin takes a tentative sip of his own water.

When Yoongi is done with his water, he pulls out his phone and opens the taxi app, ordering a taxi for a few blocks away.

“Drink up,” Yoongi says, gesturing at Jimin’s water bottle, before slipping his phone back into his back pocket. “Cab’ll be here in 10 minutes.”

Jimin gives a small nod and it’s Yoongi’s turn to watch as the other drinks down the water in huge gulps. Once Jimin finishes, Yoongi takes the bottle from him and grabs Jimin’s hand with his free one. Pulling him along, around the edge of the dance floor, he only pauses once to throw the empty bottles in his left hand into the large bin.

The air is cool as they step through the warehouse door into the night. Yoongi leads them to a small alleyway, away from the noise and lights of the party. Jimin follows obediently, fingers laced tightly with the fae’s. It’s quiet here, only the occasional siren can be heard in the distance. Through the alley, they step onto another block, still within industrial buildings, but the street is better lit.

They come to a stop at a street corner, where Yoongi had told the taxi to pick them up. He leans in and presses his lips lightly to Jimin’s temple.

“Are you cold?” he asks quietly.

Jimin shakes his head, but leans into Yoongi a little further, and Yoongi takes that as an invitation to wrap an arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“Is this okay?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi blows out a puff of air before he says, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

Jimin laughs, the sound ringing out through the still night air.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” he admits, his cheeks flaming. Yoongi feels like his insides are melting.

Instead of screaming like he wants to, Yoongi smiles, his fingers digging a bit into the soft part of Jimin’s waist where his hand is resting under the leather jacket.

“Likewise,” Yoongi says softly, before leaning in again to kiss Jimin once more.

They stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms and lips, until the sound of a car approaching breaks them apart. Yoongi pulls away, his hand reluctantly slipping from Jimin’s waist.

Yoongi steps up to the backdoor of the cab and pauses before he opens it. He turns to Jimin and asks, “Just for the sake of clear communication, when you asked me to take you home, did you mean for me to be a perfect gentleman and drop you off at your home? Or did you mean for me to be less-than-gentlemanly and bring you to my home?”

Jimin blinks at him and then bites his lower lip.

“And to be clear,” Yoongi says before Jimin can respond. “I am very in favor of option two. But can concede you’ve had a rough night and might just want to be alone in your own place.”

Time feels like it slows down as Yoongi watches Jimin’s face transform from a nervous pout to hold a full, toothy smile, eyes pressing into crescents. He didn’t think this plane of existence could contain a being so beautiful. Jimin reaches out and threads his fingers with Yoongi’s and says simply, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the words, while Jimin takes a step back, allowing Yoongi to open the cab door. Jimin brushes past him, sliding onto the leather seat, keeping their fingers tangled together, gently pulling Yoongi to follow him into the backseat of the cab.

As soon as Yoongi gives his address to the driver, he half-expects Jimin to be all over him. Instead, Jimin shifts slightly and tilts his head to rest it on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi feels a warmth spread through his chest as he glances down at Jimin, who is looking out his window at the city lights as they drive. The only sound in the car is the slight hum of the tires on the asphalt and Jimin’s breathing beside him. Yoongi finds himself looking over at his companion’s profile, admiring it from his peripheral vision. Looking back out the window of the car, Yoongi can detect the faint greys of pre-dawn light filtering over the city.

~

Jimin feels his apprehension grow as the car ride continues across the city. When the bigger skyscrapers and city buildings are in the rearview, he starts to wonder where exactly they are going. He regrets not paying more attention to the address Yoongi had given the driver. Was he about to be ax-murdered on the outskirts of Seoul? He realizes ever since showing up to the Friends Only, he’s been entirely too reckless. This might be coming back to bite him in the ass now.

The car slows as it pulls off a main thoroughfare into a winding cobblestone road meandering among older homes nestled into a hillside at the base of one of Seoul’s many mountains. The fading city lights give way to the twinkling stars as Jimin takes in the beauty around him. The early morning sky is a deep navy blue, the stars are pinpricks in the darkness, and the moon is a coy smile of white light.

Just as he’s about to ask where they are going, the car comes to a stop at the corner of a cluster of older homes. It’s a nice neighborhood. Quiet and tucked away.

After thanking the driver, Yoongi, who Jimin realizes is still holding his hand on his thigh, opens his door and pulls Jimin along behind him as he exits. He waits as Jimin unfolds himself through the door, before shutting the cab door behind him. Then without a word, he pulls Jimin along the small street towards more houses.

“Wait here first,” Yoongi whispers. He puts his free hand on Jimin’s shoulder and turns him gently, positioning him so he’s looking down the hill back towards the city.

The view is gorgeous, of course, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be seeing something in particular. So, he waits. His back is almost touching Yoongi’s back and he’s tempted to lean himself backwards into the fae. Instead he focuses on the feeling of heat filling the gap between their bodies and the warmth where their hands are still entwined, where Yoongi’s hand never left his shoulder.

Then, Jimin sees what they have been waiting for. As Jimin’s eyes are trained on the horizon, he catches a subtle change in the sky. He gasps softly as the hint of orange and pink paint the sky with delicate brushstrokes, illuminating the darkness. The hues blend together to create an otherworldly skyline, as if he is staring at a painting instead of a real view. He thinks Seoul has never looked more beautiful.

Yoongi leans forward into Jimin’s back, hooking his chin over Jimin’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped around Jimin’s. Both men stand in silence until it’s impossible to ignore the beauty of what they are witnessing—the sun’s rays slice through the darkness like a curtain of gold and silver being pulled aside to reveal a beautiful new day. The sky gradually lightens from deep colors to pastels.

With one last squeeze, Yoongi takes his hand from Jimin’s shoulder and pulls him towards the tall stone wall surrounding a house behind them.

If someone had asked Jimin yesterday what he thought Agust D’s dwelling place looks like, he would probably have said an upscale, modern apartment—maybe in Hannam the Hill or somewhere equally swanky. Definitely something Jimin would never dream of being able to afford on his measly dance choreographer’s salary.

Needless to say, the hanok in front of him, only visible once Yoongi pushes a metal door in a stone wall back, is not at all what he pictured. The outside of the building, while clearly clean and well kept, makes him feel like he’s been transported back in time. To get to the hanok, they first step through a traditional wooden moon gate, just inside the metal doorway. They are greeted by the sight of a stunning madang, a courtyard bordered by the wooden framework of the main house, which stands as a protective guardian of this sacred space.

Jimin takes in the scene with wide eyes, struck by an immense sense of calm that he hadn’t expected. He feels Yoongi’s presence behind him and for a moment, the two stand in complete stillness.

The surface underfoot is composed of carefully laid stone tiles, creating a smooth and even pathway leading from the moon gate to the heart of the madang. Along the edges of the path, patches of soft green moss, almost glowing in the dawn light, create a harmonious contrast against the sturdy stone. At the center of the madang is a small pond with a small leafless tree bending gracefully over the water. There is a fountain bubbling quietly, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the whole courtyard.

As they slowly walk further into the courtyard, Jimin trails his eyes across the potted plants and delicate stonework up to the hanok buildings. The house itself is a clean light grey—almost white—with dark hefty timber beams as the frame. The gently sloping roof is made of dark grey tiles, accentuated by the same dark wooden beams at the eaves.

Yoongi leads Jimin down the pathway to a door to the left of the hanok. He slides it open and they toe their shoes off at the step. The doorway leads them into an updated kitchen area. The kitchen is modern enough, with an island and state-of-the-art appliances, but still possesses touches of history, like the wooden beams supporting the ceiling.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yoongi asks, going towards what looks like a mini-fridge built under the island counter.

“Holy shit, hyung,” Jimin finally manages to get out. “Does having a magic fairytale hanok come with being a fae?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh as he pulls out glass bottles of sparkling water from the fridge.

“I’m serious!” Jimin pouts. “I figured you probably had money, but what the fuck?”

Yoongi shrugs with a lop-sided smile, handing Jimin one of the bottles of water, and says, “What can I say? I like beautiful things?”

Jimin nods, taking a sip of his water, nose wrinkling at the bubbles. He says, “It is beautiful. Definitely beats my little studio apartment.”

For a few minutes, they fall into a silence, drinking their water. Jimin plays mindlessly with the paper label on his bottle. His eyes dart up to look at Yoongi’s face and he’s startled to see the fae is already looking at him. Jimin swallows and feels his face heating as the look Yoongi gives him sets him on fire.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Yoongi takes a step closer. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s for a moment. Jimin’s heart races and he feels a shiver run down his spine at the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze. They move closer to each other, until they’re standing just a breath apart. Jimin is so tense with anticipation, he thinks he’s going to rip apart. His eyes focus on Yoongi’s lips and it takes him a moment to realize the fae is asking him a question.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin blinks, then wrenches his eyes away from Yoongi’s lips to his eyes. “Show me the bedroom?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch into a small smile, as if he’s amused by Jimin’s straightforwardness. The next thing Jimin knows, his hand is engulfed by Yoongi’s and he’s being pulled down the open walkway of the hanok that connects each of the rooms until they come to another sliding door.

Yoongi doesn’t waste time opening it and pulling Jimin inside. The natural light, still dim with sunrise, filters through white billowy curtains allowing Jimin to see that the bedroom is just as stunning as the rest of the hanok. In the center of the room, against the back wall, is a raised platform holding a luxurious looking yo mattress. On either side of it are delicate wooden bedside tables with sleek lamps. Everything is creams and greys and accented with dark wood.

Yoongi closes the door and steps towards Jimin until they’re standing a breath apart. Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Yoongi’s body and he swallows, trying to fight against the urge to close the distance between them. He thinks he might want to just drown himself in Yoongi. Why is he resisting? He doesn’t quite remember.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi asks as he reaches out a hand to cup Jimin’s face.

Jimin hums and nods faintly, leaning into Yoongi’s palm. He closes his eyes and just feels everything. His skin is on fire. Everywhere. He’s in flames. He holds onto some kind of restraint for only a moment longer and then he lets himself fall.

*~*

Yoongi feels Jimin’s lips on his before he even realizes what’s happening. He forgets everything except the way Jimin’s hands feel in his hair, the way their mouths fit together. He gasps into Jimin’s mouth, deepening the kiss, and pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them. Jimin moans softly as he melts into Yoongi, his hands sliding down from Yoongi’s hair to grip onto his hips. Yoongi’s body is on fire and all he wants is more, more, more.

They pull away from each other only for a moment, long enough for Jimin to shrug himself out of Yoongi’s leather jacket. It hits the floor with a soft ‘thunk,’ making Yoongi realize how quiet the room is. He thinks maybe they should stop, should slow down. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to have such reservations, leaning right back into the fae’s space as soon as the jacket is off.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispers into Yoongi’s ear.

Yoongi hums, not wanting to stop as he kisses across Jimin’s cheek down to his jawline.

“I need you closer.”

Yoongi feels his breath hitch as Jimin takes his turn and trails hot, wet kisses down the column of Yoongi’s neck. Almost without thought, Yoongi’s hands are sliding up under Jimin’s shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his torso. Then Jimin is pushing or pulling—Yoongi can’t tell—him back towards the bed, never breaking their kiss until they’re both tumbling down onto the luxurious mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Yoongi is pushed onto his back and Jimin straddles him, rocking his hips just enough to have Yoongi gasping and cursing under his breath. Yoongi’s hands grab at the hem of Jimin’s shirt, pushing up until he’s revealing more and more honey colored skin, then sitting up to reach Jimin’s shoulders, and then Jimin is helping him get it over his head. Without pause, Jimin is pulling Yoongi’s tee off before Yoongi falls back into the mattress again with a groan. Jimin follows him down until he’s pressed against him, chest to chest, kissing Yoongi’s face, neck, collarbones.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out, “Fuck.”

Then Jimin is back with his lips on Yoongi’s. He’s moving slower now, less fiery desperation, more savoring each touch that adds to the arousal pooling in Yoongi’s gut and threatening to explode out of every cell in his body. Jimin is toying with him, edging him with slow rocks of his hips, the fabric of their pants almost painful between them. Yoongi thinks he’s going to combust.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says again between kisses.

Jimin hums in question, but doesn’t stop kissing another trail down Yoongi’s neck. He stops occasionally to nip at the sensitive skin or run his tongue over a spot. Yoongi isn’t sure when, but at some point his eyes shut and all his senses dedicate themselves to feeling the fire burning every place Jimin touches.

Then Jimin’s hips are still, but his hands are everywhere moving up and down Yoongi’s torso reverently, as if he’s touching something precious. Each caress is tantalizing yet gentle, as if Jimin is trying to commit the feel of Yoongi’s body to memory.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face and pulls him in for the most tender kiss they’ve shared so far. When he finally pulls away just enough that their breaths linger together in reverie.

“Tell me you want this,” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi is pretty sure the air has been sucked out of the room, but he manages to whisper back, “I want this.”

Jimin smiles against his lips as he ducks in for another kiss. Then he pulls back a fraction, watching Yoongi’s face and running a hand through Yoongi’s hair.

“Tell me you want me ,” Yoongi whispers, his lungs feeling constricted. He does not know where this vulnerability and insecurity is coming from, but he can’t stop it spilling out of him.

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Yoongi’s eyes and says with a soft smile, “I want you , hyung.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says into a long exhale, the tightness in his chest reigniting the fire the tenderness had dampened.

“Tell me you want me, hyung,” Jimin echoes. “Without magic or spells.”

Yoongi’s hands tighten on Jimin’s hips where they had been resting. “I want you, Jimin-ah. I promise I will never use magic without your consent. I promise I can make you feel so good, you’ll never want another partner without a single symbol or spell.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to let out a long exhale and sigh, “Oh.”

Jimin pulls back just enough for Yoongi to get a good look at his face and the fire in his eyes. His lips are parted slightly, breathing shallowly as he focuses on undoing Yoongi’s pants, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

Yoongi trails his fingers down Jimin’s arms, admiring the flex of his biceps as he works Yoongi’s pants’ zipper down. Then, Jimin is scooting back and pushing the fabric away and off Yoongi’s hips with a gentle pull and a whisper of noise that might be appreciation or something else altogether.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face in both hands again and pulls him into another kiss. This one is slow and deep like they have all the time in the world, exploring each other with their tongues.

Jimin hums softly into Yoongi’s mouth before breaking away for a few seconds to whisper against his lips, “Hyung,” then sinking back into another kiss until their noses brush gently against each other when they part again.

Then Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s pants and helps him rid himself of them, the tight pants taking a bit of work to get off. They giggle at a first failed attempt before they finally join the floor with the rest of the forgotten clothes.

Once they are both naked, Yoongi pushes Jimin back into the mattress and takes a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. Then he trails kisses down Jimin’s neck and chest continuing lower still until he reaches Jimin’s waist. He pauses only for a moment before continuing to work his skin with his lips, tongue, and teeth, paying special attention to his hip bones before moving down to Jimin’s inner thighs. As soon as Yoongi’s hot breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of Jimin’s cock, Jimin bucks up with a gasp at the contact, arching his back in response while Yoongi moves even lower and starts tracing circles around the base of Jimin’s shaft with his tongue already swollen with its own want for attention.

Jimin lets out a low moan as Yoongi sucks gently on the tip, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through him from head to toe. Jimin’s hips buck involuntarily as he tangles one hand in Yoongi’s hair while running circles on pale skin with the other as Yoongi continues to work him slowly and deliberately.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses as Yoongi starts bobbing up and down on him.

“Fuck... hyung,” Jimin says again, voice cracking as Yoongi twists his way up the length and then back down with a wet sound. Jimin’s hips jerk and he groans. Yoongi’s tongue moves all around him as he sucks down Jimin’s entire length. Jimin groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasps, voice strained, as Yoongi sinks back down and starts bobbing up and down faster.

Jimin’s body shakes with pleasure as Yoongi tightens his grip on Jimin’s waist, bringing him in deeper. A moment later, he comes with a muffled cry into the sheets, covering Yoongi’s hand where it’s wrapped around him, pressed into the aftershocks of orgasm.

Yoongi slowly pulls himself up and collapses onto the bed beside Jimin. He drapes an arm over Jimin, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead tenderly. Jimin smiles blissfully before turning onto his side to face Yoongi.

Yoongi kisses Jimin softly on the lips before placing a slow gentle kiss just below his ear. His lips move down to Jimin’s neck and chest as his hands start tracing gentle circles along Jimin’s skin. Jimin melts into Yoongi’s touch, breathing heavily against him as Yoongi continues exploring every inch of him with both hands and lips, memorizing every curve and dip of skin.

When Yoongi feels Jimin’s skin begin to prickle in goosebumps against his touch he deepens the contact, twining one hand with Jimin’s and pulling their bodies together, very slowly, as their arousal begins to reignite. Jimin breathes out a whimper of sound and presses himself closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder.

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes out in what almost sounds like a whine.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums, now kissing along Jimin’s collar bone.

“Please,” Jimin actually whines this time. “Hyung-”

Yoongi kisses Jimin’s mouth fully, breath mingling between them because really all he can think about is getting back inside of Jimin as soon as possible. But then he pulls away, slowly trailing kisses across Jimin’s cheek until he reaches his ear.

Yoongi kisses him one last time before pulling back again, taking a moment to reach over for the lube and condoms tucked into the nearest nightstand. He drops the condom on the mattress and snaps open the lube. He looks to Jimin’s face, waits until Jimin’s eager nods give him the signal to keep going.

Yoongi slicks up his fingers and reaches for Jimin, pressing in just barely. He pauses a moment, gazing down at Jimin to see if he’s still okay. Jimin simply nods but it becomes clear that he needs more as his hips begin to shift impatiently against the mattress. Yoongi presses in farther and Jimin gasps at the intrusion. Yoongi moves his other hand down to rest on Jimin’s hip, giving him something to hold onto while he eases his finger in slowly.

Jimin lets out a half-strangled moan as Yoongi presses his lips against Jimin’s. His tongue forages for the delicate sweet spots of Jimin’s mouth, sending sparks of pleasure running through his veins. Yoongi moves his hands over every inch of Jimin’s body, slowly readying him as their kiss deepens with each wave of passion cascading between them.

“Now, hyung,” Jimin croaks desperately. “I need you now.”

Then, in the blink of an eye, Jimin is grabbing the condom, ripping it open, and rolling it down Yoongi’s length. He pulls Yoongi down on top of him, as Yoongi works some extra lube on himself.

Jimin rocks his hips forward, pressing himself against Yoongi’s tip. Then, he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back and pulls him in closer as he eases Yoongi in inch by perfect inch. They both let out loud moans at the contact, surrounded by the noises of pleasure of their contact.

Yoongi stays still for a few moments afraid he’s not going to last another moment like this. Everything is so hot. He slowly starts to move against Jimin with a delicate rocking of his hips. They’re moving together now, limbs entwined groins pressed together as he thrusts into Jimin over and over.

Jimin groans deep in his throat as Yoongi slides into him again and again, faster now as they move against each other in sync. Jimin plants his feet firmly on the mattress and stretches up to brace his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. Allowing him to pull Yoongi even farther in until Yoongi is buried all the way inside in one complete fluid motion.

Jimin’s walls clamp around Yoongi in a tight constricting fit. He grunts and fucks Jimin hard, trying his best to make the other man see stars. Then he leans down and finds Jimin’s mouth, lips crashing together as they continue to move together in a frenzy of lust and passion.

Yoongi swallows down Jimin’s groans as he lifts his hips into each thrust. In another minute, Jimin arches beneath him as he comes again with a shudder, moaning out Yoongi’s name as he comes. Yoongi keeps moving until he reaches his own peak, coming undone at the seams as he fills the condom deep inside Jimin’s body.

The two of them collapse together on the bed breathing heavily. Before Yoongi lets himself drift off to sleep, he gets himself up to the bathroom to wash up and bring a wet cloth back to Jimin to tidy him up as well. By the time Yoongi is finished Jimin has started to drift off to sleep, so works quickly to clean everything up. He throws the cloth to the side and he climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers around them both and nuzzles against Jimin’s hair, inhaling deeply, and tangling his limbs around Jimin.

His mind drifts as he watches the white curtains flutter in the breeze through the bedroom window. He will never understand the fae who choose to stay in The Dreaming over here. Humans feel and love so intensely. Without these momentous moments, the vividness of human life, how can anyone appreciate the mundane? Yoongi can never imagine having anything but this, living any way but this, loving any way but this. And that is how he drifts off to sleep as the morning songbirds finish up their calls and day truly starts over Seoul.

*~*

Jimin opens his eyes to the sound of low-toned chimes. He is alone on the yo mattress, but he can feel where Yoongi had been lying next to him. The space is still warm, and when Jimin presses his fingers into it, he can even feel Yoongi’s lingering body heat. He slips from the bed and picks up the folded clothes, a simple t-shirt and joggers, that Yoongi had left for him. He slides them over his naked skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. The fabric is soft and smells lightly of citrus, which makes Jimin smile as he heads to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out toward the madang.

Jimin pauses when he sees Yoongi standing at the moon gate with two tall people. Jimin stays back, not wanting to intrude in the tense conversation he can feel emanating from the group. The two people in front of Yoongi are wearing flowy silver robes, their blue hair braided and fastened up in intricate styles. They have sharp features, including long, pointed ears donned with silver rings. Their faces are neutral, but there’s an intense feeling radiating off them that Jimin can’t quite place.

The sight of the courtyard is all rather picturesque with the clearly otherworldly beings standing with Yoongi in front of the moon gate, pond and tree before them, bubbling waters creating a false sense of serenity.

“I really do think it’s in your best interest to accept our invitation, cousin,” one of the blue-haired people said.

“And I told you to fuck off,” growls Yoongi. “I am not accepting your invitation now, nor will I be accepting any in the future.”

Jimin thinks he should duck back inside and not eavesdrop on this conversation anymore, but is distracted then by the tinkling of a little bell. He looks down to see a small black cat rubbing along his shin and then winding around his legs.

“Oh, hello, pretty,” Jimin says brightly. “Where did you come from?”

“I said fucking leave and take that with you,” Yoongi says pointing straight at Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes go round and he feels a pang of fear at Yoongi’s harsh tone. Before he can fully process what’s happening, Yoongi is striding across the madang towards him.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, his tone surprisingly sweet considering the look of irritation on his face. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a moment? I just need to kick out these unwanted house guests.”

Jimin nods dumbly and watches as Yoongi kicks towards the cat, who hisses and runs towards the two people still standing at the moon gate. The cat sits next to their feet, eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“I do hope you take time to reconsider, cousin,” one of the people says. “You cannot simply run away from your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Yoongi says confidently. “I hope the door hits you on the way out.”

Then he whirls around to take Jimin’s hand and lead him towards the door to the kitchen. Once seated on a wooden barstool, Jimin watches as Yoongi pulls out a number of containers from the refrigerator. Then he watches as the fae begins to heat various dishes up and starts to set a variety of options out along the bar counter. Jimin waits patiently until he is done serving breakfast—or lunch, really, since it’s already afternoon— and they are well into tucking into their food to ask any of the burning questions on his mind.

“Who were those people? Fae?”

“They,” Yoongi says and waves his hand holding his chopsticks vaguely in front of himself as if trying to shoo away an annoying bug, “are the Sidhe. So, yes, they are fae. And fucking the worst kind, too.”

“And you were fighting with them?”

Yoongi coughs. “I wouldn’t say– no, not fighting exactly? More like strongly disagreeing with them? There has been a push to have me back at Court and I have zero intention of leaving this plane, maybe ever, so…they can keep pining away for me, I guess.”

Jimin picks at some of his kimchi, brow wrinkled in thought. After a moment, he asks, “Why don’t you think you’ll leave here?”

“The Dreaming,” Yoongi sighs, but a faint smile pulls at his lips, “is a very beautiful place. But it’s almost too beautiful. The Dreaming is dull. Lifeless. It’s like nothing ever happens there. Emotions, feelings, sensations are just so much more intense here in The Crossing, and the fae can experience that, but only here.”

Jimin sits with his mouth hanging open slightly as he processes this new information. He’s annoyed at himself for not paying attention more to all things related to fae. He doesn’t exactly want to give away how much he doesn’t know.

“They called you cousin,” Jimin finally says, hoping for a safe topic that doesn’t belie too much of his ignorance.

“Ah,” Yoongi says, nodding and swallowing down a spoonful of rice. “They call every other fae cousin, really. But in my case it’s actually true, since I’m half Sidhe.”

Jimin’s brow wrinkles further as he’s suddenly reminded of a forgotten school lesson. “I didn’t think Sidhe mingled outside of their own. In fact, I didn’t even know they came to this plane.”

“Well, my parents seem to be the exception that proves the rule, with my mother straying into a human’s bed,” Yoongi says with a twist of his lips. Jimin can’t tell if he’s displeased or amused. Maybe both. “But you’re right. Sidhe mostly only travel to The Crossing to retrieve fae and issue invitations to Court.”

“Oh,” Jimin says. “So, that’s what they were talking about? You being invited to Court? Like some kind of official summons?”

Yoongi laughs and gives Jimin an almost fond smile, and then leans forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, like he’s sharing a secret. “Doesn’t really matter. I’ve no intention of going. I like it here.”

Jimin feels his heart clench. He’s overcome with a desire to make sure he does what he can to stay in Yoongi’s orbit. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Yesterday, he was sure all fae were duplicitous, manipulative assholes. Today he’s entertaining thoughts of having the fae before him be something more than a one night stand.

Yoongi’s phone vibrates from the counter, where he apparently left it. He gets up to check, brow furrowed as he scrolls through what Jimin imagines to be many messages.

That reminds Jimin to check his own phone, shut off the night before. His friends are probably worried after his sudden departure last night. He feels a stab in his gut when he remembers why he left suddenly last night. In the light of day, in this beautiful hanok, in front of a fae that has done nothing but be honest and kind to him, Jimin feels a small pang of guilt for his reaction. Still, they should have told him from the beginning.

Still, Jimin decides to go find his phone and check his messages. Back in the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the mattress while his phone boots up. He waits for the messages to come. But there is only one. There is tightness in his chest, as he waits, hoping maybe he just didn’t have enough signal or something.

He feels sadness cascade over him as he clicks into the only message—from Jungkook—that simply reads, “I’m sorry hyung.” His finger hovers over the call button, but then he decides to wait. He’d call later, when he’s had more time to think.

“Shall I take you home?” Yoongi says. He’s standing in the open doorway, leaning on the frame. He’s a vision in the afternoon sunlight, all soft in cozy grey clothes, the green of the courtyard behind him.

Jimin takes a deep breath and buries the sadness, anger, and guilt to be unpacked and dealt with later. He pastes a cheeky smile on his face and says, “Only if I can get your number first, hyung.”

~

Yoongi wasn’t sure Jimin was actually going to text him back. Not after the absolute shitshow that was the Friends Only and then whatever it is they are calling his spending the night. No, he absolutely never expects to hear from the man again. And yet. And yet, Yoongi finds he cannot stop thinking about him.

If he didn’t know better, he might start worrying the man had spelled him in some way. If anything, he is starting to understand why all of his friends have been so protective of him. There’s some kind of magnetism to Park Jimin.

Yoongi isn’t even thinking about the sex—well, not thinking exclusively about the sex, maybe—but rather catches himself wondering what Jimin might be doing at any particular moment. While Yoongi is picking up lunch for Namjoon and himself, he wonders if Jimin is eating now, too. While Yoongi is washing his face and brushing his teeth before bed, he wonders if Jimin is already asleep. Stupid, cheesy shit like that that Yoongi would never admit to in a million years out loud.

That’s why, after a full week passes, when Yoongi was working late in his studio, he ignores the buzzing of his phone. This track is almost done, he’s just looking for the perfect sound to complete the texture he’s going for. He’s proud of himself, really, he’s gone almost a half day without thinking about Jimin—does thinking about not thinking about Jimin count as thinking about Jimin or—, hyperfocusing on this track instead. Sometimes he thanks the goddesses he was blessed with very human ADHD.

With a feeling of victory blooming in his chest, he finds the right gong sound he needs and slots it into the track. He plays the whole thing back with a faint smile on his face. Perfect. He can tell this is going to be a hit. Yoongi saves the file, renders it down to a wav file, and emails it to Namjoon and the other PD on the team. Then he pushes himself back from the desk, chair gliding smoothly across the wood floor of his studio. He leans back and stares up at the ceiling for a while before he starts to wonder what time it is.

Yoongi grabs his phone off his desk with a flourish, twirling his desk chair around in a circle. As he’s spinning, his phone lights up. 2:00am. Not bad. He definitely thought it was way later. Cool. Then he slams his feet into the ground, coming to a complete halt, as he taps on the text message notification and sees the sender is Jimin.

“Can we meet,” is all the message says. Yoongi feels a little coil of anxiety in his gut.

He texts back immediately a “sure thing, when is good” and stares at his own words in embarrassment debating whether he should be allowed access to any communication devices.

“Why are you awake?” comes the next text from Jimin.

Yoongi bites back a smile. He shoots back, “Why are YOU awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jimin sends back.

“Just finished work,” Yoongi replies.

“Hyung...it’s a Saturday-no, now it’s a Sunday morning,” Jimin writes.

Yoongi chuckles. “Gotta work when inspiration strikes.”

“So, can we meet?” Jimin writes after a few moments.

Yoongi chews on his bottom lip. He eyes the time, calculates how quickly he can get home and sleep, before writing back, “Sure, Bubbles and Brew 11am?”

“K,” is all Jimin responds with.

Yoongi debates the entire time he's packing up whether to write a good night message, but decides against it by the time he's flicking off his studio's lights. No need to make things weird. More weird, whatever.

~

Jimin almost bails on the whole “meet Yoongi and see about maybe seeing him again” plan four separate times before he finds himself standing in front of Bubbles and Brew a good fifteen minutes early. He hesitates outside the door, feeling his heart race in his chest. This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself. He’s already mad at the five apparent-fae in his life, he shouldn’t be inviting another in. And yet, here he is, sliding into a booth towards the back of the café, and pretending to read through the extensive menu.

“Hey there,” comes a deep, gravely voice and soft rustle of fabric as Yoongi settles into the booth across from Jimin.

The first thing Jimin thinks is “soft.” Yoongi’s hair is clearly freshly washed and dried, but then unstyled. He’s makeup free and wearing could only be described as one step above pajamas, but perhaps not actually meant to leave the house in, dark sweats and well-worn Epik High hoodie. Jimin is overwhelmed with the desire to fold himself into all that softness and maybe never leave.

Instead of launching himself into the fae, he manages to croak out a “hey” instead. Very smooth.

Thankfully a waitress comes by and takes their drink orders before the awkward stretches on for too long. But she’s gone all too quickly and Jimin is left tracing his eyes along the knots in the wood of the tabletop.

“You needed to see me?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin glances up and Yoongi is eyeing him curiously. He clears his throat and answers, “Yeah, I mean. Need might be too strong of a word. I wanted– no, yeah, yeah– I wanted to see you.”

Jimin can feel the unforgiving red blush burn across his face all the way up to his ears. Yeah, this is going incredibly well. He watches Yoongi’s face like watching a trainwreck. He can’t look away even though he knows this is all going to end in disaster. However, Yoongi surprises him. He smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“I wanted to see you too,” he says softly, but confidently. Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the words, the warmth in Yoongi’s eyes sending a thrill through him.

The silence stretches between them as the waitress brings their drinks, an iced coffee for Yoongi and a strawberry bubble tea for Jimin. She sets them down and disappears without comment. The conversation starts off with Yoongi asking about Jimin’s work as a choreographer. Jimin, always eager to talk about his passion, explains the details of what he’s working on. He talks about the different movements he has and how they tell a story, getting more animated as he continues.

Jimin feels a warmth in his chest at the way Yoongi seems entranced by his words as if he’s never heard someone talk about dancing with such enthusiasm and admiration before.

Jimin then steers the conversation towards Yoongi and his new song he’s working on. He asks all kinds of questions leading Yoongi to open up about his process and what kind of music he likes to create.

Before either of them know it, two hours have gone by in what feels like no time at all. Jimin can’t believe how easily the conversation has been flowing between them. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so talkative and honest, or that they would have this much in common. He starts to think that maybe he’d been wrong about fae all along.

Maybe, just maybe, Jimin concedes that he's let a few bad fae influence his judgment of the whole. Yoongi has been nothing but kind, open, funny, protective. If anything, he reminds Jimin of his friends, who, turns out, are also fae—that thought has his stomach dropping. Jimin starts to think maybe he's the one that is going to need to apologize. Of course, there's the matter of them having lied to him. Perhaps lied by omission, but still lied. Maybe he's still a little angry and a lot hurt.

As the conversation dies down and their drinks are empty, Jimin can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that it’s over.

“Can we do this again?” Jimin asks as they wave the waitress over to pay for their drinks.

Yoongi, busy using his phone to pay,—“hyung pays, don’t argue, Jimin-ah”—hums in agreement. Once the waitress has cleared their empty cups away and wished them a good rest of their day, Yoongi says with a blush to his cheeks but no hesitation in his voice, “How about dinner? Sometime this week?”

And, as if by magic, but not the bad kind, Jimin is sure, that is how Park Jimin, human, and Min Yoongi, fae, start dating. Or, at the very least, start meeting regularly for coffee and meals and blush-filled chats.

~

They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. No labels yet. Mostly they are just talking and sharing stories, listening to music and watching movies, doing a little bit of kissing. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing and occasionally a lot more than kissing. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt lighter. He might even have the clichéd spring in his step—nauseating.

He still has worries, like getting this album finished for the latest idol group debuting in a few weeks or how Jimin still hasn’t really talked to his friends. If he’s honest, both are keeping him up at night at this point.

Yoongi sees the impact of Jimin’s prolonged silence on the other fae. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook are especially despondent. However, none of them seem to want to make the first move. Hoseok keeps saying “Jimin needs his space” and Yoongi is about ready to lock them all in a room until they talk it out. Yoongi isn’t a meddler. He hates meddlers. But everyone is hurting and it’s stupid.

That’s why, when he gets the anonymous text message about another Friends Only, he lights up in excitement. Jimin, given the horrendous events of the last Friends Only, might be harder to convince to attend, but it’s the perfect place for everyone to meet up and hash things out once and for all.

As luck would have it, Yoongi is already picking up Jimin for lunch. He nervously twiddles with his phone as he sits in the driver’s seat of his car out front of the younger’s dance studio, waiting for him to come out. Yoongi knows he has to approach this conversation tactfully. Yes, tactfully.

He pulls out the small jewelry box from the glovebox and pops the lid open. A thin silver chain necklace with a pendant shaped like a graceful dragon made of interwoven lines whose body wound protectively around most of a green jade orb. He fingers at it anxiously, feeling the spells flutter and react to his touch.

Yoongi snaps the box shut as the passenger door opens and Jimin drops into the seat with a tired sigh.

“Long morning?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin stretches his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion. “It was good, but tiring. I’m so sore. What’s that?”

Jimin is eying the jewelry box in Yoongi’s hand.

“Ah– uh, this?” Yoongi stammers. He vaguely recalls about 30 seconds ago he was determined to be tactful.

“Yeah, that. What is it?” Jimin repeats, now pointing with his finger at the box.

Yoongi hands it over with a sheepish smile. “It’s for you.”

Jimin looks at him in surprise before opening the box and gasping. The dark silver dragon glitters in the sun.

“Before you put it on,” Yoongi starts.

Jimin freezes where he sits, hands still pinching at the clasp of the necklace.

“It’s uh– It’s spelled?” Yoongi says, though he sounds so unsure it comes out as a question.

Jimin drops the necklace into his lap. “What do you mean it’s spelled?”

Yoongi flounders, flapping his hands trying to assuage the other and gain back his composure. He’s not sure he’s successful on either count, judging by the angry glint in Jimin’s eyes now.

“I– okay, it’s warded. There are symbols of protection embedded in the chain, the pendant. I just thought,” Yoongi struggles to find the words. He glances at Jimin’s face and instead of seeing anger, all he sees is soft adoration and patience. Okay. “The wards will make it so no one can spell you without your explicit permission. And they cannot take the necklace off. Only you can. That way– that way, you can maybe feel a little bit safer. From us.”

His words trail off and end in an almost-whisper. He keeps his eyes firmly on Jimin’s hands, which are lightly brushing the silver chain of the necklace in his lap.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, running a finger over the jade. He links the necklace around his neck, pulling down the car’s visor and flipping open the mirror, admiring how the pendant looks against the dip between his collarbones.

Yoongi allows himself a small grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“So,” Jimin says brightly as he pulls on his seatbelt. “Where are we going for lunch?”

~

Jimin can tell Yoongi is nervous. He watches as the older man picks at his noodles with his chopsticks, other hand drumming fingers on the tabletop. He’s like a ball of energy waiting to explode.

“Is something wrong, hyung?” Jimin finally asks. He’d finished his food several minutes ago, but Yoongi, eyes focused on his food, is still just pushing his meal around in his bowl.

The question seems to startle Yoongi. He looks up, surprise on his face, as he takes in the fact that he’s been zoning out and Jimin has already eaten.

“Right, yeah,” Yoongi says. “I’m fine. I did have something I wanted to ask though.”

Jimin feels a bit apprehensive and he plays with the pendant of his new necklace. He knows it’s strange to get such a nice gift, out of the blue, especially when they aren’t really a gift-giving couple. He mind whirls as he tries to guess what’s going on, but nothing he comes up with makes sense.

“I was kind of hoping you might come with me to the Friends Only tonight?” Yoongi finally asks, voice quiet.

“Oh.”

“I know– we didn’t really ever talk about the last one. And it wasn’t great, obviously, what happened. But we met? So, I guess that is good? And I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to see– to go,” Yoongi finishes with a stutter.

Jimin eyes him for a moment, fingers still touching the dragon pendant. “I don’t know, hyung.”

“I– I admit that is maybe why I gave you the necklace,” Yoongi says, waving towards Jimin’s neckline. Jimin immediately drops his hand and pretends like he hasn’t been admiring the jewelry ever since he put it on in the car.

“If you wear that, then you’ll be protected from any fae at the Friend Only. We could just go for a couple hours. Maybe have a drink. I might be persuaded to dance,” Yoongi says. Jimin notices his definite wince when he suggests dancing. A smile erupts unbidden from Jimin’s lips.

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, voice teasing. “You win. We’ll go. But you have to do a battle.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, matching Jimin’s smile.

“And dance with me,” Jimin adds.

Yoongi’s smile drops. He sits dejectedly for a minute, clearly pretending to weigh his options, but Jimin knows he’s already got him.

~

Yoongi fusses with the collar of the flannel shirt he decided to wear. He's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, assessing his look. Normally, he wouldn't care this much. But he's nervous. Not date-nervous, but more I've-set-my-friends-up-to-reconcile nervous. He's not stupid enough to think there's no possible way for this plan to backfire. In fact, his brain has been kindly supplying all the gruesome ways this could backfire for the entire afternoon, since dropping Jimin back off at work.

Before he knows it, he's knocking on Jimin's apartment door, shaking out the non-existent wrinkles in his flannel shirt that is hanging open. Quickly, Jimin opens the door, looking stunning in a black leather jacket—Yoongi's leather jacket that never found its way home again, which is perfectly fine, in Yoongi's opinion—and dark jeans.

"Hey," Jimin greets him, his eyes scanning over Yoongi’s outfit. "You look good."

"So do you," Yoongi greets back, and leans in to give Jimin a sweet kiss on the lips. He offers Jimin an elbow. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Jimin says, twining his arm with Yoongi's.

They park several blocks away and walk to the warehouse.

The night is cool, but considerably warmer than it had been the last time there was a Friends Only. Jimin automatically wraps himself under Yoongi's arm in a way that leaves Yoongi entirely too pleased. Yoongi's hand finds its way to Jimin's waist underneath the leather jacket. Yoongi feels warm and comfortable. He feels happy, he realizes. This is what happiness feels like.

Jimin is mid-giggle at something Yoongi had said when a tall figure steps out in front of the two of them. Jimin immediately tenses and goes quiet and Yoongi tightens his arm around him protectively.

"Min Yoongi-ssi," the sylph says. He looks much the same as he did at the last Friends Only. The one he was banned from.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. Nor have I given you permission to use my name," Yoongi says coldly. "I am also under the impression you shouldn't be anywhere near Seoul. Or The Crossing, for that matter."

The sylph smirks and laughs. Cocky and stupid, Yoongi thinks. He leans over the both of them as he says, "I don't think the Sidhe's naming conventions apply in The Crossing, Min Yoongi-ssi. My name is Ah Minsu."

There's an awkward silence as Yoongi does not return the greeting.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Minsu continues. He's still looking at Yoongi. In fact, he hasn't looked Jimin's way once. "I didn't realize this little human was yours. I would have never presumed. Of course, humiliating me in front of half the fae in Seoul and getting me banned from the Friends Only, might be a bit too much, don't you think? All over some human?"

Yoongi bristles and he feels Jimin tense ever further into his side.

"I'd suggest you watch your words," Yoongi says tightly, hand unconsciously tightening on Jimin's waist.

Minsu's smile turns into a sneer. "I see. You're still playing at being king, even here in The Crossing. But that's fine, Min Yoongi-ssi. Let's not make this a scene. Enjoy your evening."

The sylph steps back, giving them a mocking bow, before slipping away into the darkness of the alley he had come from. Yoongi and Jimin stand there for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

"I-" Yoongi starts, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. "We can go. I had no idea he was still here. I thought they'd banished him back to The Dreaming."

"No," Jimin says firmly. "No, I'm not going to let some asshole ruin our night. Let's go."

Yoongi watches Jimin's face and sees nothing but determination there. Still, he asks, "Are you-"

Jimin cuts him off with a glare before he finishes his sentence. Instead, still under Yoongi's arm, he steers them towards the dark, silent warehouse.

In Yoongi's list of "Things that Could Go Catastrophically Wrong with My Meddling," the sylph, Minsu, showing up had not actually made the cut. This is mostly due to Yoongi not having actually checked with Jin or Namjoon to make sure Minsu had been banned not just from the Friends Only, but from the plane entirely. Yoongi is mentally kicking himself for that oversight now.

"Yoongi-chi! Jimin-ah! You're here!" sing-songs a cheerful Jin as the two step into the din of the warehouse. Jin is all smiles and waves his hand off towards the dance floor. "The others are around! They'll be happy to see you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but Jin is already off, dipping back into the crowd. Yoongi glances over at Jimin to see the other looking rather shell-shocked. This whole plan was, in fact, an extremely terrible idea.

Yoongi leans into Jimin's ear to ask, "Are you okay? Maybe we should just go?"

Jimin shakes his head. "Let's dance."

Yoongi nods slowly and lets himself be pulled into the mass on the dance floor. The bass is pounding a moderate rhythm and the bodies writhing around him making him feel particularly on edge. But then Jimin's front is pressed up against his and everything else fades away. Rather than dancing, Yoongi feels he's doing everything to keep up with Jimin's movements, trying to match his gyrating hips and fluid body. He's entranced by the way Jimin moves, and how the leather jacket is open to reveal the white tee molded to his body, emphasizing every curve. He can feel the sweat starting to gather on their skin as they dance closer together. Jimin’s eyes are dark, intense, and unbelievably beautiful. Yoongi feels he’s falling into them.

They move together for what feels like hours until Jimin is winding them down and Yoongi is panting from the heat and intensity of it all. As they make their way off the dance floor, they're stopped by Hoseok and Jungkook.

"Hyung," Jungkook says nervously at Jimin. "Are you– Can I-"

Jungkook's forehead is wrinkled with frustration, his face set into a frown. Yoongi feels a bit sorry for him because he can see concern and anxiety in the way that Jungkook has one hand grasped around Hoseok's upper arm. And in fact, both fae look downcast and anxious.

"Hey, how about I go find V or whoever is working sign-ups tonight? You said you wanted me to battle, right?" Yoongi asks Jimin.

Jimin, looking nervous himself, nods gratefully. "Yeah, I'll meet you over there after the battle?"

"V is on duty tonight," Hoseok confirms with a nervous smile.

Yoongi nods and wants to say more to Jimin. He wants to remind Jimin to call if he needs anything. He wants to tell Jimin to stick with Hoseok and Jungkook until the battle. He wants to become the overprotective mother-hen. But he swallows all that down. Instead he says, "See you after the battle."

Jimin gives him a quick squeeze and then Yoongi pulls away and walks off in search of Jimin's soulmate. One glance back gives him a partial view through the crowd of Jimin standing in front of the other two, all three men tense and unsure. Yoongi hopes they work things out.

Yoongi finds V easily enough and is herded quickly to the pit. After arriving late to the party, the battles are just about to start and Yoongi is grateful for getting slotted in anyway.

The competition is more fierce this time. There are some real talents here that Yoongi has to respect, and he finds himself pushing his limits to keep up with them. It becomes a game of who can rap the fastest and come up with the best lyrics.

The crowd around him is alive, shouting out encouragement and screaming for the participants. The energy is electric as Yoongi focuses on his performance. All his worries about Jimin and his friends go away as he throws himself into the flow of words and beats. He's lost in the music and nothing else matters to him besides winning this competition.

When it all comes down to just him and one other rap battler, Yoongi knows he has to pull out all the stops if he wants to win this one. He puts everything he has left into his last few verses until finally emerging victoriously as the winner of the night.

He looks around the crowd for Jimin. Except he's not there. There's not a single familiar face in the crowd at all. Yoongi ignores the sensation of anxiety bubbling under his skin. Jimin probably got caught up talking and catching up with his friends. That must be it.

Still, when Namjoon and Jin make their way through the crowd to him, twin looks of worry etched into their faces, Yoongi feels his anxiety come back in full force.

"Yoongi," Jin is saying. "Yoongi, have you seen Jimin?"

"Not since the battle started," Yoongi says, trying to swallow down the panic. "He was with Seok-ah and Jungkook-ah."

"Apparently, he got upset and walked away from them," Namjoon says. "They thought he went looking for you, but if you haven't seen him-"

"He left," Yoongi concludes. For a moment, he's upset with Hoseok and Jungkook for saying something to upset Jimin. Then he's a little hurt Jimin would leave without coming to find him first. Then– "Wait. Wait, Joon-ah."

Yoongi can't say it out loud. His veins are filled with ice and the lump in his throat is strangling him. He can't breathe.

"Hyung?" Namjoon asks. He holds Yoongi's elbow, which Yoongi is infinitely grateful for because he's pretty sure he's going to pass out.

"Ah Minsu," Yoongi chokes out.

"That asshole sylph?" Jin says, confused.

"He was here," Yoongi is now sure he's going to throw up, rather than pass out. "He was here. Outside."

"What?!" Jin screeches. Without wasting more time, he's gone, pushing his way through the last of the crowd standing around the pit.

Namjoon stays, though, still practically holding Yoongi up. "It'll be okay, hyung. Hyung'll find him."

Yoongi nods mutely. He's pretty sure this is all his fault, somehow. He's not sure exactly where he went wrong, but he's pretty sure he fucked up big time. And now Jimin was in danger.

~

Jimin wipes a tear away from his cheek, angrily. He feels so embarrassed and stupid . His footsteps are the only noise in the otherwise quiet street that leads to the closest train station. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are in his jacket pockets—Yoongi’s jacket pockets—with his right hand holding on to his phone.

He toys with the idea of calling Yoongi. He should call Yoongi, really. But he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about everything yet. If what Hobi says is true, Yoongi is basically royalty , the heir to Sidhe throne or whatever they call the head seat at the Seelie Court. That, on top of the information Jungkook had given him about how Jungkook is some kind of imugi and basically imprinted as a guardian to Jimin for life, is just too much.

Instead of feeling betrayed like he had two months ago, Jimin just feels stupid for not knowing all of these things—for not asking—for never showing the slightest bit of interest in his friends’ lives. How anyone is still friends with him is beyond him. He’s been so selfish and cruel. Embarrassing. He wipes away another tear that was rolling down his face without permission.

He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out to see Yoongi is calling him. He hovers over the big red “reject call” button, but decides against it. He’s not going to run away from his problems anymore.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says. He’s glad his voice is only minimally shaky.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out his name in a sigh. Relief, Jimin thinks. “Where are you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I left without telling you,” Jimin says. “That was stupid of me.”

“You’re not stupid, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi replies easily. “Hyung was just worried.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says again. “I just, I needed some air and some space. I’m okay. I’m just heading to the train station. I’m just going to head home.”

There’s a pause on the line. Jimin looks around himself, along the poorly lit street, but he can see the light of the subway station about 3 blocks away.

“I can come get you,” Yoongi says quietly, hesitantly. “Just to take you home. So you don’t have to ride the train so late.”

“No, no, it’s okay, hyung,” Jimin says quickly, feeling guilty for his impulsive decision. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Text me tonight when you get home, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says.

“Sure thing, hyung,” Jimin says and hangs up.

Jimin pockets his phone feeling decidedly guilty for causing so much worry. Worrying his friends. Worrying Yoongi.

“So cute,” a voice says with a slow clap.

Jimin freezes in his tracks as he sees Ah Minsu approach, sneering and arrogant. His fists clench in twin feelings of rage and fear as he feels the phone in his pocket, emotions bubbling up inside of him. He can feel a fire rising from within, his blood turning to acid as Ah Minsu stands like a snarky, immovable wall before him.

“What? No hello?” Minsu leers. “That’s very rude. Especially when I’m here to help you.”

Jimin’s frown deepens and he takes a step back, his eyes never leaving the ground. He glances around for an escape route but realizes that the street is dark, blackness falling everywhere. Was the street this dark a moment ago? He can make out a doorway to his right and the glow of the subway station sign 3 blocks away, feeling much further away than it had just a minute ago.

“Get to the point,” Jimin grits out as he turns his attention back to the sylph in front of him.

Minsu tuts. The smile that stretches his face has a shiver running up Jimin’s spine. “Well, somehow, the Court got wind that Min Yoongi-ssi has been fraternizing with humans. Could be bad for him. Could get him sent back to The Dreaming. Permanently.”

Jimin freezes at that, looking at the sylph’s face. This guy is an asshole and a liar, but the idea that Yoongi could be banned from coming here to Seoul—permanently has Jimin feeling panicked. Jimin cannot, will not, be the reason Yoongi loses the one place he’s said makes him feel alive. And if there’s even a grain of truth–

“However, there’s an easy way to get that cleared up. At Court. You just need to tell them that you’re consenting and whatever it is he’s done to you was with your permission,” Minsu says easily with a shrug. The smirk on his face shows much he’s enjoying watching Jimin’s discomfort grow.

“You want me to go to the Seelie Court? Is that even possible?” Jimin asks.

“Of course, it’s possible with an invitation,” Minsu says. “Luckily for you, I have a pretty decent standing within the Court myself. So I can issue you an invitation, no problem.”

Jimin eyes the fae in front of him. This could be a trick. It’s not like the sylph has done anything trustworthy at this point.

“What is in it for you?” Jimin asks.

Minsu laughs, amused. “You humans are so quick to think that we fae want something from your kind. Maybe I’m just doing a good deed. I heard about Min Yoongi-ssi being in trouble and decided I would help out.”

Jimin scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Well, what about your other friends? Jung Hoseok? Jeon Jungkook?” Minsu asks.

Jimin’s chest squeezes in panic. His face must betray his worry because Minsu is tutting again. Smirk growing into a satisfied grin.

“Just think, Min Yoongi-ssi’s mistake,” Minsu says, his face wrinkling a bit in disgust at the word ‘mistake,’ “could impact his whole circle of friends. They could all end up permanently banned.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jimin says, head feeling heavy.

“Well, the fae take misdeeds in The Crossing very seriously. Prolonged fraternization is a very serious offense. But it can be cleared up so easily.”

Jimin cannot go anywhere with Minsu. That would be stupid. How can he trust anything this fae says?

“In fact, let me prove to you what I’m saying,” Minsu speaks again. “Let me introduce my good friend, the Sidhe.”

Jimin watches another tall person step out of the darkness to stand next to Minsu. They are in billowing robes of silver with dark blue hair in a fancy mass of braids on top of their head. They remind Jimin of the other two Sidhe who visited Yoongi’s hanok two months ago.

“My dear cousin,” the Sidhe says, bowing to Minsu, “is correct that Min Yoongi-ssi, as you know him, is being sought out by the Court.”

Jimin nods at this. He’s wishing, not for the first time, he knew more about the fae and the Court. After this is over, he’s going to invest in some books, maybe take a class, or maybe ask his friends for a crash course, if he can suck up his embarrassment.

“I would like to extend an invitation to you, Park Jimin-ssi,” the Sidhe says, voice laced with a soft accent. Jimin is surprised when they hold out a thin, burgundy card. Jimin steps forward to automatically take it with both hands. He sees what must be the Seelie Court seal and feels his face fall at the thought that this might be the truth.

Jimin looks at the card, unseeing, as he thinks about the potential consequences if all of his friends are permanently banned to The Dreaming. They would lose all the lives they have built here in Seoul. And it will be all Jimin’s fault.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, squaring his shoulders.

“Easy, accept the invitation and just step through this door here,” Minsu smiles and gestures to the door in the building to their right. “We’ll just pop through and clear this up right away.”

“Will you accept my invitation, Park Jimin-ssi?” the Sidhe asks.

“Alright,” Jimin says. He’ll text Yoongi once he’s there, he thinks. Hopefully, this will all be over soon, once this misunderstanding is cleared up. He turns to face the Sidhe and says, “I accept your invitation.”

The Sidhe goes through the door first. From where Jimin is standing, nothing much happens. The Sidhe steps through to what looks like the door to an abandoned office, part of some industrial complex of some kind. Jimin figures it's like the warehouse for the Friends Only, spelled to look ordinary. Minsu is then gesturing him through before he can think much more on it. Without a glance backwards, Jimin steps through the dark doorway to the Seelie Court.

~

Dawn starts creeping over the horizon, spilling warm light into the hanok, when Yoongi really starts panicking. All of Yoongi’s texts go unanswered and his eventual calls go straight to voicemail. When his buzzing at Jimin’s apartment are only met with silence, Yoongi decides to call in the rest of their friend group.

“Jungkook-ah, have you heard from Jimin?” Yoongi asks while on speaker driving to a local coffee shop he knows Jimin sometimes goes to people-watch.

“Jimin hyung?” Jungkook asks. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t talked to him since he was walking to the train last night,” Yoongi says, feeling incredibly stupid for taking so long to realize Jimin might actually be missing.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sounds broken as he utters the word.

“I know, Kook-ah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, hyung,” Jungkook says.

“Maybe,” Yoongi doesn’t feel like belaboring the point. This is definitely his fault though.

“I’ll call the others,” Jungkook says. “I’ll let you know if we hear from him.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pulling into a parking space in front of the coffee shop.

Jimin isn’t at the coffee shop. None of the baristas have seen him today. Yoongi’s heart races as he leaves the coffee shop and heads back to his car. He tries calling Jimin again, praying to any god that might be listening this time it goes through.

It doesn’t.

He drives to Bubbles and Brew where they’d had their first kind-of-date. He drives to the movie theater, the fancy Japanese restaurant, the park by the Han River. Yoongi even tries the cat café where Jimin had confessed he's actually quite allergic to cats, but only after they had been in the café for 15 minutes.

Jimin isn’t anywhere.

“Let’s meet at your house, hyung,” Taehyung says over the phone. No one had better luck than Yoongi.

Namjoon arrives late to Yoongi’s hanok, his brow furrowed with worry. Yoongi can see him hesitating at the doorway before joining the others. Everyone else is gathered around Yoongi’s kitchen and dining area. Jin and Taehyung are sifting through their phones, trying to find any more contacts that might be able to help. Jungkook paces. Hoseok stares at the wall, unseeing, clearly lost in what is probably some kind of self-destructive spiral.

“Come in, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says, when the man doesn’t move.

Namjoon toes off his shoes and steps into the room. “Hyung, I’ve been conferring with some of my acquaintances who might know that sylph, Ah Minsu. From what I’ve gathered, he has been planning something. He’s been asking around about you. And about Hoseok and Jungkook. It doesn’t really make sense, but it can’t be good.”

Yoongi allows himself a moment to internally berate himself. The “should have” list is long. He should have taken care of that asshole from the beginning. He should have made sure he was actually banned. He should have made sure Jimin would be protected.

Just then, there is the low chime of someone calling at the door. Yoongi stands up quickly, slips outdoor shoes on at the step, and makes his way across the madang to the front gate. Anger flares in him as he sees the two Sidhe standing before him.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” one of them says.

“Look, now isn’t a good time,” Yoongi starts.

“Ah, yes,” the other Sidhe says. “You might be worrying about that little human. Park Jimin-ssi.”

Yoongi looks sharply at the second Sidhe. “What do you know about Park Jimin?”

“It seems one of our cousins issued an invitation to Court and Park Jimin-ssi accepted,” the first Sidhe says.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi snarls out. “There is no way in this plane or any fucking other that Jimin would accept an invitation to the fucking Seelie Court willingly.”

“You know as well I do, cousin,” the second Sidhe says, “that invitations must be consented to. I can assure you, Park Jimin-ssi, willingly accepted our cousin’s invitation.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits out. “That’s complete bullshit.”

“No matter,” the first Sidhe sniffs. “We’re here to issue you an invitation to Court, cousin.”

The Sidhe proffers a red invitation, holding it out for Yoongi to take. Yoongi angrily grabs the card with one hand and slams the metal door shut in the two Sidhes’ faces.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says to the door. “Fuck!”

“What happened, hyung?” Jungkook asks from the courtyard.

Yoongi turns to see that everyone is standing there by the pond, waiting for news.

“Jimin’s at Court,” Yoongi says flatly. He glances down at the burgundy card in his hand. His skin crawls at the sight of it. Wishes burning it would change reality. “He’s at fucking Court.”

The silence that hangs over the madang is palpable. No one moves, all eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi doesn't know for how long everything freezes in place—a minute? an hour? Then–

“Why would he be at Court, hyung?” Hoseok asks. His eyes are wide.

“Maybe he didn’t know you can say no to the invitation,” Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi’s heart breaks at how desolate Jungkook’s voice is.

Namjoon says, sounding as forlorn as Yoongi feels, “He didn’t know enough. We could have protected him better by telling him more. We should have done a better job preparing him.”

Jin’s face turns an angry red as he murmurs, “How could none of you have talked to Jimin about fae matters?”

“We all dragged him into this mess,” Taehyung says, almost to himself, his jaw clenching.

There’s another tense silence as everyone wrestles their own thoughts. Yoongi feels a wave of guilt wash over him as Jin’s words sink in. He had been so caught up in his own feelings for Jimin that he hadn’t even considered how unsafe it might be for him to be around the fae. He had let his own desires cloud his judgment, and now Jimin was paying the price.

“We couldn’t have foreseen this though,” Hoseok says gently.

The air suddenly seems heavy and charged with emotion as everyone eyes each other.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches tightly as he snarls, “It wasn’t me who didn’t talk to him for two months!”

“Why are you trying to pin this on me? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Hoseok says, his voice rising in pitch as he slams his arms against his chest.

“But you do see him every day, don’t you?” Namjoon snaps back.

“This isn’t an office! We’re dancing! All of us have different classes and assignments!” Hoseok yells. “Besides, any one of you could have just as easily called him. Phones exist, you know.”

“He needed better protection,” Taehyung says. Then he suddenly rounds on Jungkook. “Aren’t you supposed to be his Guardian? Where were you?”

Jungkook flinches as if Taehyung hit him and looks near tears at the accusation and looks down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where he was or that he was in danger. I should have been more vigilant.”

“It’s not just Jungkook’s fault,” Yoongi says, stepping forward to defend the maknae. “None of us were paying enough attention to Jimin’s safety. We were all too caught up in our own bullshit to think through the consequences.”

Hoseok slams his fist on the wooden porch railing. Yoongi watches as everyone starts screaming at one another, no one even listening to the others’ words anymore. Yoongi feels his temper flare as the argument spirals out of control. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The anger fizzles out immediately, leaving anguish and fear in its wake.

“Enough!” Yoongi growls loudly, pulling the symbol for peace as he yells. The group falls silent immediately. Yoongi softens his tone as he says, “We can fight among ourselves later if we must, but right now we have to get Jimin back. Before something bad happens. Assuming we’re not too late.”

“It’s the Seelie Court, Yoongi-chi,” Jin’s tone is softer now, too. “He should be safe there.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Just like he was safe at the Friends Only. Twice.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok breathes out.

The silence is tense and awkward.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, feeling sick at the memory of each misstep. He knows that right now, without proper support, Jimin is not safe anywhere near the fae, especially in the Seelie Court. “We need to act fast. Namjoon, can you gather any intel you can on Minsu’s plans?”

“Sure thing, hyung,” Namjoon says.

“The rest of you,” Yoongi says, turning to look at the other four fae. “Will you come with me to the Seelie Court?”

“Is that an invitation, hyung?” Hoseok asks, a hint of sass in his voice that helps break some of the tension.

“Yes, Jung Hoseok-ssi.” Yoongi pulls himself up straight in mock regality. “I am officially inviting you, along with Kim Seokjin-ssi, Kim Taehyung-ssi, and Jeon Jungkook-ssi, to accompany me to the Seelie Court.”

~

Jimin tries not to panic as he’s escorted by two fae guards to an isolated guest room deep in the bowels of the Seelie Court. He realizes quickly he’s not in the industrial building they entered in Seoul. He realizes that he’s probably not even in Seoul anymore. This Court must be somewhere else, some place else and that the door they walked through was just a portal.

The Seelie Court itself is like a large hanok, or multiple hanoks maybe, made of light colored wood. The structures are connected by courtyard gardens and delicate covered timber walkways. Bright white paper screens divide the outer courtyards from the inner buildings, which glisten in the sunlight with their polished wooden floors and intricately carved walls, which reflect back the light in beautiful patterns. Almost too beautiful. With each turn in the path, new halls open up, twisting away from Jimin so that he knows he’ll never find his way through at this rate.

The guest room itself is simple and clean. The sunlight that slants in through the paper-covered window paints soft, dancing shapes on the white walls. A low desk with a cushion for a seat lines one wall; in the other corner sits a low table with a comforter folded neatly at its foot. There is a yo mattress with a cover spread across it in the center of the floor.

As soon as he’s alone, he pulls out his phone to text Yoongi to tell him where he was. As he looks at the words “out of service” on his screen and feels the prickle of anxiety. He can’t contact Yoongi. No one knows he’s here. He’s on a different plane of existence and no one knows he’s left Seoul.

Jimin sits on the mattress, his back to the wall, waiting. There’s no sound except for his own breathing, which seems loud in all this silence. He expects to hear some sort of activity, but it was as if time has stopped entirely. Then, he realizes the light coming through the paper in the window never changes. Apparently, here at the Seelie Court, there is no sunrise or sunset. He loses all sense of time.

Not a single soul comes to greet him. The stark silence only adds to Jimin’s terror that grows with every passing moment. To keep himself from hyperventilating, Jimin’s fingers play with the jade orb around his neck and his mind wanders to memories of Yoongi, of his friends, of home.

Yoongi at the piano. Yoongi’s gummy smile. Yoongi smirking at some quip he’s made. Yoongi kissing Jimin.

He thinks of his friends, who he owes several large, prolonged apologies to. He pushed them away when he was prejudiced and scared. He kept them at arm’s length. He ran away every single moment that got rough.

He thinks of his job teaching dance and choreographing. He thinks of the life he’s built for himself in Seoul.

Jimin’s muscles tense at the sound of approaching footsteps, his heart pounding in trepidation. Suddenly two Sidhe stride into the room, their colorful robes and sashes glinting in the candlelight. With a sharp exhale, they simultaneously produce a basin filled with steaming water, along with several cloths and a comb.

One of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to come towards the basin of steaming water. Jimin hesitates, feeling the Sidhe’s piercing gaze pierce him like needles as he steps closer to the basin. His heart thuds loudly in his chest and his feet feel like lead weights sinking into the carpet. Then the other Sidhe is tugging at his clubbing clothes, clearly indicating for him to take them off.

“Excuse me?” Jimin asks shakily, clutching at himself protectively.

The Sidhe make an impatient noise and move to help him remove his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Jimin shrills, trying to back up.

His resistance seems to make the Sidhe more insistent, as they pull at his shirt and pants. Jimin quakes in fear, his heart pounding against his ribcage. A thousand needles seem to pierce into his skin with every passing second as the two Sidhe wordlessly stare meaningfully at him. His mind scrambles for something to do, but he can do nothing but obey their unspoken command and strip himself of clothing piece by piece until all that remains is his underwear—which appears to satisfy the two fae in front of him. Jimin shivers and hunches his body up, covering himself with crossed arms and raised shoulders.

Once he’s naked, one of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to wash himself in the basin, handing him a cloth to wash himself with. He’s quick to take it, to show them he can do it himself. Jimin’s hands quiver as they dip into the warm liquid, shaking. He struggles not to let his fear take over as he washes himself with the water and a cloth, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable beneath their watchful eyes. Every muscle in his body is clenched tightly, trying to keep composure but failing miserably. The Sidhe remain silent throughout, never once speaking or reacting to anything he does.

Once finished, they silently take away the basin and present him with a beautiful green robe of silk that fits him perfectly. One of the Sidhe takes up a comb and begins to work it through his hair, their long nails gently scraping against his scalp. The other Sidhe ties an intricate knot around his waist. Jimin stands as still as possible, feeling like part of this strange ritual where he will become the human sacrifice. With a nod, they turn and leave without another word.

In the same whirlwind fashion that they arrive, the Sidhe are gone again.

Tears fall then as he stands in the middle of the bedroom in strange clothes, in a different plane of existence , feeling utterly alone and violated. His hands run over the robes the Sidhe had dressed him in. He doesn’t even feel like himself anymore. He can’t tell if he’s losing his mind, if any of this is real. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but the tears keep flowing down his face.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to come here? Jimin collapses onto the bed, too overwhelmed to process what has just happened and why. He had been foolish to trust Minsu—what had he been thinking? What possessed him to go along with their plan? He should have known better. He should have known it was a mistake, should have contacted Yoongi or anyone. His chest feels heavy with worry as he thinks of his current situation.

He looks around for something, anything, that might help him find a way out of this place. In desperation, he gets up and begins searching the room for any sort of exit or window. The door won’t budge. The window doesn’t open. As he does so, however, panic begins to take over him once again. What if there was no way out? What did they want with him?

Jimin slumps to the floor, his knees giving way beneath him. He buries his face in his hands and sobs uncontrollably. He can’t believe he’s so helpless and alone, stuck in a world he doesn’t understand. The tears start streaming down his cheeks and Jimin pulls his hands through his freshly combed hair. As his sobs echo through the room, a wave of sadness washes over him as he realizes just how far away home feels right now. The weight of his situation bears down on him like a crushing weight, threatening to suffocate him.

~

The Seelie Court has not changed at all in the years of Yoongi’s absence. He’s extremely irritated that the Sidhe have manipulated things and forced his hand so he’d have to show his face here again. As he pieced together the information they had to go with—the Sidhe’s increasingly backhanded ways of inviting Yoongi to Court, Minsu suddenly have the far too brilliant plan to bring Jimin here. No, this is the workings of the heads of Court.

The realization that this has all been a plot to get Yoongi back to Court came as a brief relief to Yoongi. It means they have no real intention of hurting Jimin. Yoongi can just show his face, fight whatever verbal sparring match the heads of Court have planned, and then take Jimin safely home. He holds onto this as he strides confidently into the Great Hall, flanked by Jungkook and Hoseok on his right and Jin and Taehyung on his left.

Yoongi only allows himself a brief glance at the room, unchanged and familiar as it is. The whole hall is bright, as if bathed in a perpetual morning light. There are plants everywhere, tucked into corners, hanging from the rafters. Chairs are scattered throughout, never in any practical arrangement for holding an audience at Court. But then again, they never really have had much need for holding audience.

While only a few of the scattered chairs are occupied by fae—many more are probably hidden away throughout the room, which is deceptively larger than it appears—, calmly sipping from tea cups or simply admiring the foliage about, Yoongi can see the entire heads of Court has been assembled. Twelve Sidhe, in their silver and blue robes, sit in a semi-circle on the raised dais at the front of the hall. It is towards this dais that Yoongi and his coterie walk to now.

As they approach the Sidhe, Yoongi can feel the air around him grow tense with each step. He can feel their eyes on him, measuring and assessing. He knows what they are doing—they are trying to intimidate him, to make him feel small and insignificant, the same trick they’ve been catching him in his whole life. However, he’s brought his own arsenal of tools for intimidation. Starting with his friends at his side, all dressed in their Seoul fashion—a clear rejection of Court protocol. He straightens his shoulders and holds his head up high as he steps to the appropriate distance from the dais. He’s pleased to see the flicker of uncertainty briefly flash in some of the Sidhe’s eyes.

“Well,” says the eldest of the Sidhe. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Yoongi feels a flash of anger course through him at the condescending tone. He takes a deep breath before speaking, keeping his voice even and controlled. He can hear his friends taking similarly deep breaths from behind him.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “As you know, I had important matters, including my livelihood, to attend to in The Crossing.”

Another of the Sidhe snorts in disbelief. Yoongi feels his hands tense into fists at his side and he has to consciously relax them.

“Important matters indeed,” they say. “We’ve heard all about your dilly-dallying.”

“Dilly-dallying,” Yoongi can hear Hoseok mock the word under his breath.

Yoongi is about to open his mouth in retort, but another voice interrupts him. “Well, Min Yoongi-ssi, you came much quicker than I expected.”

Ah Minsu walks through the Great Hall to stand near Yoongi’s group, far away enough to avoid physical threat, but still near enough to the dais. The newcomer looks resplendent in golden robes with several layers. Everything flutters as he moves, as if he’s buoyed by his own little wind. Yoongi raises his eyebrow to the sylph.

“Cocky and stupid,” Jin mutters under his breath.

Yoongi huffs out a quick laugh, trying to bite back the angry smile threatening to ruin his composure in front of the Court.

“I’m rather surprised you’re here at all, Minsu-ssi,” Yoongi says. He can’t stop the smirk on his lips then. “I may use your name here, can I not? You seem to have no qualms about using mine.”

Minsu leers at him. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I am a representative for my clan. I have many dealings with Court. Plus, I wanted to come give my testimony in your case.”

“Dear cousin,” the eldest Sidhe speaks, looking at Minsu, “what do you mean by testimony?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minsu asks, turning to face the heads of Court. Yoongi watches the sylph’s face become the facade of obedience and contrition. “Our cousin is making an attempt to keep a human in The Crossing as a pet .”

The Great Hall had been relatively quiet up until now, but upon Minsu’s words, whispers break out among the fae. Even some of the heads of the Court lean towards one another to remark on the allegations.

Before Yoongi can react, Taehyung is launching himself towards Minsu with a cry, “You bastard!”

As Taehyung surges forward, Yoongi reaches out to grab him, but misses. However, Jin is closer and successfully gets a hold of Taehyung in a strained back hug.

“Don’t you dare talk about Jimin like that!” Taehyung yells at Minsu, struggling against Jin’s hold on him, both their eyes ablaze with anger. Yoongi tries to put a placating hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, but Taehyung continues his struggle.

Yoongi doesn’t want them getting into a fight that could ruin their chances of getting Jimin out of here unharmed. Yoongi looks towards Minsu and sees the sylph is laughing. Yoongi thinks he looks a bit crazed. It’s nauseating.

“That is enough,” the eldest Sidhe says, voice echoing with magical amplification to fill the hall.

Taehyung huffs, but stills his struggle. He keeps his eyes narrowly trained on the sylph. Satisfied his friend isn’t going to do anything impulsive, Yoongi turns his gaze to Minsu again. The sylph shoots a smirk at Yoongi, who feels a muscle in his jaw tighten, but otherwise holds his tongue.

“Do you care to elaborate on your accusations, cousin?” one of the Sidhe on the dais asks. “While possibly distasteful, it is not explicitly illicit to have a relationship with a human. However, if the human is not consenting...”

The Sidhe lets their sentence trail off, letting everyone understand where the nuance in the laws lay. Yoongi uses all his willpower not to laugh aloud.

“You see,” Minsu says, still confident for reasons Yoongi cannot fathom, “I met the human at a gathering of humans and fae. I was immediately concerned with the way that Yoongi-ssi was treating this human in particular. He seemed far too interested, picking him out of the crowd intentionally. I could tell that the human was shocked and uncomfortable with Yoongi-ssi’s spell summoning. Yoongi-ssi did not notice, or did not care.”

Minsu pauses and shoots a glare at the rest of Yoongi’s friends for added effect. “The human definitely didn’t want to go with Yoongi-ssi. It took a lot of work, but I was finally able to find the human alone and convince him to get away from Yoongi-ssi. I did eventually decide it was better to bring him here to Court. It seemed like the only way.”

Yoongi watches as Minsu weaves his intricate lies, anger simmering in his gut.

“Knowing that Yoongi-ssi seems to have not had as proper of an upbringing as the rest of us, I figured it best to make sure he is taught a lesson here, at Court. I’m sure being raised in The Crossing has led to an incomplete education,” Minsu finishes with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Yoongi can hear the surprised gasps from his own group of friends. He can hear Hoseok’s incredulous laugh leak out before he can clamp a hand over his own mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says, sounding incredulous, before the Sidhe on the dais can speak up. “Do you not actually know who he is?”

Jin waves a hand vaguely in Yoongi’s direction while he addresses Minsu. This time it is Taehyung that accidentally lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Minsu clearly has no fucking clue. This is better than Yoongi thought.

“Of course I know who he is,” Minsu replies and actually rolls his eyes. “He’s Min Yoongi-ssi of no clan, half-fae, from The Crossing.”

Yoongi can feel both Hoseok and Taehyung struggle to maintain composure and even Jin now looks like he’s about to laugh. Yoongi feels like he needs to reign this in and get Jimin so they can get out of here.

The eldest Sidhe clears their throat from the dais. Everyone sobers up a bit and turns their attention back to the heads of the Court.

“The matter of the human’s consent can be quickly ascertained,” one of the Sidhe says. They nod to a fae standing to the right of the dais and watch for a moment as the fae leaves though a sliding door. “However, given our cousin’s upbringing, I am certain we will find no wrongdoing.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense!” Minsu growls. His face grows red with anger as he tries to puzzle together everyone’s reactions to his accusations. He whirls on Yoongi. “Who the fuck are you?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow at Minsu, but decides not to answer him. Instead, he turns back to the dais and asks, “Where is Jimin? I would like to see him.”

“Ah, he is being summoned now,” the eldest Sidhe says.

“What the fuck is going on? I was told if I brought the human here, Yoongi would get the justice he deserves,” Minsu is shouting now.

“I’m not sure who told you that, cousin,” another Sidhe on the dais says. “But, we are not in the habit of punishing those that have not actually committed crimes.”

“Yoongi is a low life! He fucking raps at clubs and who knows what else! How can any of you be defending him! Don’t even get me started on those pathetic excuses for fae he hangs out with!” Minsu seethes, clearly grasping.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow on the sylph. Someone can belittle his character all they want, but sure as fuck they are not going to come after his friends.

“First,” Yoongi starts, “you started this, asshole, spelling humans without their consent. I should have had you banished back to The Dreaming for good immediately. That was my mistake. I’ll be sure to rectify that today.”

Most of the Court raises their eyebrows at this revelation. More whispering erupts throughout the Great Hall. Minsu sputters.

“Second,” Yoongi continues with barely a pause, “my friends are all upstanding citizens. Half of them are esteemed members of this Court. Which you would know if you actually asked around. In fact, despite my long absence, it’s probably not hard to find out who I am just by asking. I suggest you do your actual homework before talking out your ass.”

Minsu is still sputtering, as if trying to find something to say but failing.

“Third,” Yoongi drops his voice low, tone that of steel, he raises his arm to point his index finger straight at the eldest Sidhe, “while I am no longer a member of this Court, that seat was once to be mine. Yes, I may have renounced my clan and have settled in The Crossing like many of our kind have, but I grew up in these very halls.”

Yoongi stalks slowly forward towards Minsu, who is looking satisfyingly terrified now. Yoongi feels as if he’s about to vibrate out of his skin as a rage that goes well beyond just the sylph standing before him burns through him. He punches a single finger into Minsu’s chest to emphasize his point.

“Insulting my upbringing is to insult to my parent,” Yoongi gestures again towards the eldest Sidhe, “and to insult the entire Seelie Court. Apologize to them.”

Minsu doesn’t even hesitate. He drops into a full bow, forehead pressed into the wooden floor.

“Forgive me, dear cousins,” Minsu murmurs into the wood.

“Now get out. I don’t want Jimin to have to see your face,” Yoongi says with finality.

Minsu quickly rises to his feet and trips over his own feet in his scramble for the door, skirting around Yoongi’s friends on his way out. He’s gone from Court in less than two minutes.

“Now,” Yoongi turns back to the heads of the Court. “Where is Jimin?”

“He should be here any moment,” the eldest Sidhe replies with a small smirk. How Minsu hadn’t seen the resemblance between the Sidhe and Yoongi is surely beyond everyone in the room.

Just then the door the fae had exited early slides open and the fae steps back through it. She looks nervous before she steps aside to let the person behind her through.

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he sees Jimin. He’s wearing grand green robes that make him look ethereal, but his pale complexion, the red splotches on his face, tousled hair, and swollen eyes are clear indications he’s been crying. He’s breathing hard, taking in gulps of air as he steps into the room. His eyes light up with hope as he and Yoongi make eye contact.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yoongi asks with a hardened tone. He’s itching to throw himself at Jimin, to run out of here, to burn the entire Court down as he goes. He swallows down his instincts and waits for the Sidhe to answer him.

At the same moment, Jungkook makes a broken whimper and races toward Jimin, Taehyung hot on his heels. Both fae immediately wrap themselves protectively around the human and usher him back over to their group.

There is clear confusion in the faces of the Sidhe as they watch the events unfold before them. Finally, the eldest Sidhe asks, “What is the meaning of what?”

~

Jimin’s ears have been filled with static ever since the fae came to collect him from his room. Again, no words were exchanged as the fae led him down twisting paths and confusing corridors. He realizes he hasn’t heard a spoken word aside from his own since Minsu’s rough “deal with the human” when he was left in this place. The silence and the terror have him choking on the scream building in his throat.

They finally stop in front of a simple white door. Before he can even take a breath, the fae is sliding it open and stepping inside, gesturing for him to follow.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the back of the fae in front of him, he follows into the room, which turns out to be a large hall filled with plants. He tempts a glance around, trying to get his bearings. There are a whole group of Sidhe, tall and intimidating with their ornately styled blue hair, on a platform in front of him. As he looks further into the hall, his knees almost give out in relief at the sight of a familiar group of people. Jimin’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s and Jimin releases an inaudible gasp.

Yoongi looks soft for the briefest of moments as he gazes at Jimin, eyes raking up and down Jimin’s frame, then his expression turns hard, angry. He faces back to the platform. His tone matches his expression when he asks, “What is the meaning of this?”

It’s so jarring to hear someone speak—especially with that tone of voice coming from Yoongi —after so long in silence. How long has he been here, in this timeless, soundless, lifeless place? How do the fae stop themselves from going mad here?

Jimin registers the despondent sound Jungkook makes just before he and Taehyung are barreling forward, wrapping their arms protectively around Jimin. Before he can even process what is happening, he’s surrounded by his friends. They all seem to form a barrier between him and the rest of the room.

He wants to embrace the relief of being with his friends again, with Yoongi. But he can’t let himself relax yet. His friends might still be in trouble. Yoongi might be in trouble. That’s, after all, why he came to this godforsaken place in the first place. With a start, he realizes Yoongi’s been talking this whole time, voice still sharp as steel, with the Sidhe on the platform.

Yoongi stands with his arms folded across his chest. He looks like he could spit acid at the Sidhe, who look back at him with creased brows. Their voices are quiet and calm. Jimin’s anxiety spirals from inside his little friend fortress.

“We have done nothin but treat the human with respect and hospitality,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Bullshit,” Yoongi growls. “Let’s wrap this up so we may leave and never come back.”

“But dear cousin–” another of the Sidhe starts.

“No,” Yoongi cuts them off. “I am not interested. I haven’t been interested in decades. I have a life in The Crossing, as is my right. I am not giving up my life for this bullshit. So take your Court and fuck off. You think you’re better than the Unseelie Court? You think you’re all noble? Did any one of you ask Jimin what he wanted or if he was even here of his own freewill?”

An eerie silence hangs over the hall.

Yoongi scoffs in disgust. Jimin can just see his profile through the shoulders of his friends. The fae is standing tall—commanding—and the anger rolling off of him is almost visible.

“What happened to consent, hm?” Yoongi sneers. “One of the most sacred values, is it not?”

“Cousin,” a Sidhe says, shifting a little on their feet, “it is true, perhaps, we were not as thorough as we should have been.”

Jimin can hear Jungkook and Taehyung both let out angry huffs of air, but they don’t move.

“Human, step forward,” the Sidhe in the center of the platform says.

His wall of friends around him are tense, hesitating to move until Yoongi tells them to let Jimin through.

Yoongi holds his hand out to Jimin, palm up. Jimin takes it readily and steps up next to the fae. Yoongi’s hand gives his a comforting squeeze. Jimin keeps his eyes trained on the platform in front of him, rather than making eye contact with any of the fae.

Jimin takes a few deep breaths, his hand still in Yoongi’s. He can tell the Sidhe are all watching them, feel the burning of their gaze on his skin. But as discomforting as their gaze is, he can also feel the familiar comfort of all of his friends at his back, close enough for their body heat to reach him.

The realization hits Jimin then. It was all a trick. A stupid one. Yoongi was never in danger until Jimin stupidly followed that asshole through that door. His friends were never in danger. This is their home, for fucks sake. Something settles inside his chest then, some of the fear melts away.

“Human,” the Sidhe says. “Did you consent to coming to Court?”

“I–” Jimin starts, thinking back. “I did. But I was told Yoongi hyung was in trouble. I was told I could help him if I came here.”

Yoongi makes a small choking noise, clearly upset, but Jimin keeps his eyes on the Sidhe’s feet.

“I see,” the Sidhe says. “Well, while you were clearly given false information, I’m afraid consent was still given.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok says from behind Jimin.

And Jimin has had enough. He’s tired. He’s afraid, but less afraid now that his friends are here. Now that he knows the imagined threats are just that—imagined. Most importantly, though, he’s angry. So angry. Angry at Minsu. Angry at the Sidhe. He lifts his chin and makes eye contact with each Sidhe standing on the platform.

“However,” Jimin says loudly, making sure his voice carries, which has the added bonus of taking the tremor out of his tone. He silently gives thanks for that theater class he took in university. “I did not consent to being stripped naked, forced to wash in front of an audience. I did not consent to wearing unfamiliar clothes, have my own belongings taken away, and to sit in some empty room for who knows how long. No one asked me for my permission. No one has spoken a word to me at all.”

Jimin’s face burns red at the confession, not sure if it’s a product of him being embarrassed or angry, and he worries he sounds like he’s rambling. He darts his eyes to the side momentarily to see if he can see Yoongi’s reaction. Yoongi is staring at him, eyes burning fierce with what might be a mixture of anger and pride. Okay then.

“You know what, I might have given my consent to be here when I didn’t know what the fuck was actually going on,” Jimin continues, confidence blossoming in his chest. “But now I know.”

Jimin takes a deep breath and squeezes Yoongi’s hand tighter. Yoongi’s presence grounds him. He meets the Sidhe’s gaze head on, his voice growing stronger with each passing second.

“I did not come here to be humiliated and degraded. I did not come here to be treated like some plaything for you and your Court’s amusement. And I sure as hell did not come here to be used as leverage against someone I care about,” Jimin says, his voice menacing.

The tension in the room is palpable, waiting for the Sidhe to respond. Jimin fights the urge to fidget under their intense scrutiny, focusing on the weight of Yoongi’s hand in his.

“I see,” one of the Sidhe says finally, breaking the silence. “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Wow,” Jimin hears Taehyung breathe out, voice laced with sarcasm.

No one moves. Jimin has no intention of accepting their half-assed apology. Instead he says, lifting his chin higher in determination, “I am revoking my consent. I no longer wish to accept your invitation to this Court. I would like to go home. With Yoongi. And my friends. Now.”

The Sidhe seem speechless—a frozen tableau of blue fae with varying levels of shock on their faces standing before him on their platform.

“Let’s fucking go then,” Taehyung says, breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the room.

Suddenly, Yoongi is turning, pushing Jimin into his friends’ arms. The group moves quickly, ushering Jimin down the length of the room and out a set of oversized doors. They are in a large circular room with doors all along the walls. Each has a small label over the top of the door frame, but the language must be fae, because Jimin can’t decipher it.

No one makes a move to stop them as Namjoon’s boyfriend opens the door they’ve moved in front of. Without any further ceremony, they all file through the door and end up in a room that looks suspiciously reminiscent of Yoongi’s hanok.

“That was really hot,” Taehyung breathes out.

Hoseok laughs, although it sounds more like relief.

Jungkook hasn’t let Jimin go yet, hand still coiled protectively around Jimin’s bicep. “You okay, hyung?”

Jimin nods and looks around at the faces standing around him, looking for one in particular.

When he doesn’t see who he’s looking for, he frantically asks, “Wait, where’s Yoongi?”

~

Yoongi waits until he’s sure everyone has made it through the portal before he turns his attention back to the Court and the Sidhe on the dais. He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you invited me,” Yoongi says calmly. “I assume it wasn’t to swap chicken soup recipes.”

“Child,” the eldest Sidhe says.

Yoongi looks at his parent, standing regal in the center of the dais, and waits.

“I do not want you making the same mistakes as I did,” the Sidhe continues.

Yoongi clenches his jaw. There is an edge to his tone as he repeats, “Mistakes.”

“Yes, I did much when I was younger that I wish I had spared myself from. The Crossing provides much to distract, but that can be dangerous,” the Sidhe says.

“By that logic, I am one of your mistakes, since I am a product of your forays into The Crossing,” Yoongi says.

“I would not put it that way, Child,” the Sidhe says, the barest hint of sadness in their voice. “Humans feel much, it’s true. But their emotions are not stable. They do not understand longevity the way those of us of The Dreaming do.”

“Thank you for your advice. I promise I will not regret this choice. I cannot apologize for taking certain risks and living my life on my own terms,” Yoongi says. He almost pities the fae on the dais. They rarely leave the cozy blandness of the Seelie Court. They don’t realize what they are missing. What it feels like to be alive—or to truly love.

None of the Sidhe speak. Yoongi is happy to wait them out, letting the tension fill the room, an invisible cloud that makes it a little hard to breathe.

Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon walks up to the front of the room. He positions himself next to Yoongi, giving the fae a small nod. Yoongi feels the final coil of anxiety release.

“Alright, well, I’m leaving,” Yoongi says, dusting non-existent dust off his jeans, sounding almost tired, as if he’s had to put up with way too much bullshit for one day—which is true. And he means every word he says, he can already feel the dulling of his emotions the longer he stays. It’s time to go.

“You cannot just walk away from your responsibilities,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Ah, cousin,” Yoongi replies, allowing the sarcasm to drip through in his tone, “you are so correct. And I have many, many responsibilities and obligations waiting for me in The Crossing. So. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gives the eldest Sidhe a courtesy nod of his head and then he turns on his heel and marches out of the Great Hall. Namjoon keeps pace with him.

“That sylph is actually banished this time?” Yoongi asks when they are far enough away from the dais he feels comfortable to talk.

“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon says. “Turns out someone had, uh, mislaid the paperwork the first time. Apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to trick Minsu into bringing Jimin here in order to lure you to Court. I think they were trying to win the heads of Court’s favor. I’ve reported the fae responsible and made sure the paperwork was walked all the way through to the right office this time. Ah Minsu won’t be able to leave The Dreaming again.”

Yoongi nods. “Good. That’s good.”

~

Jimin is throwing himself into Yoongi’s arm the moment the fae makes it through the portal, the older grunting at the unexpected impact.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jimin says into Yoongi’s neck. “I was so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to care, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms more securely around Jimin’s back. “I should have been more open, too. I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head, still buried in Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi huffs a laugh. He turns his head so his nose is tucked into Jimin’s hair and he murmurs, “I think the most important thing is, if this ever happens again, you call me first, hm? Fae bullshit happens, call hyung. Deal?”

Jimin laughs wetly as he nods and tightens his hold. He thinks maybe it’ll be better if he can just stay here, like this, forever. Then he remembers that empty bedroom at the Seelie Court, where time didn’t seem to pass, and he changes his mind. Not forever, but for a long while, maybe.

~

Jimin is wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel when Hoseok lets out a small gasp.

“Do you see the text?” his friend asks without looking up from his phone screen.

“I left my phone in my locker,” Jimin says with a shrug. He throws the towel in the laundry bin and starts zipping up his duffle.

“Friends Only tonight,” Hoseok says. “You coming?”

“Don’t think so,” Jimin says. “I’ve got plans.”

“Plans? What plans?” Hoseok asks, pretending to sound annoyed. Then he finally looks up from his phone screen to see the mischievous smile Jimin is giving him. “Oh, you know, what. Ew. TMI. Never mind. I do not want to know. Have fun. Wear a condom.”

Jimin is already pushing the door to the dance studio open, his duffle bag hanging from an elbow. “You too, hyung!”

~

Namjoon is knocking on the open door to his music studio. Yoongi vaguely wonders when he left it open. Maybe Namjoon used his emergency code for what is clearly not an emergency, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon is saying, dimples showing from his smile.

“This should be good,” Yoongi mumbles, already turning back to his computer screen.

“There’s a Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon apparently doesn’t let Yoongi’s taciturn mood get him down. “You coming?”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi says, refusing to look away from his work, resolutely clicking his mouse.

Namjoon just laughs as he walks away down the hall.

“Yah!” Yoongi yells. “Shut the door!”

~

Sometimes Jimin forgets he’s no longer at the Seelie Court. Usually, it’s brief, but that moment of panic when he thinks he’s back there—floating in that timeless place—is enough to prick his eyes with tears and send his heart thumping in his chest.

It’s easier though, here, in Seoul, to remind himself that everything is still real and time is passing. He can hear a car out on the road and a bird singing from Yoongi’s madang. He can smell fresh air and petrichor. He can taste the coffee that’s brewing across the way when Yoongi hands him a sturdy mug and the same coffee on Yoongi’s lips when they kiss. He can see the sun’s shadows on the walls of the hanok as it makes its way across the sky. He can feel—everything—the softness of sheets, the heat in the air as summer comes into full swing, the hard earned sweat when he’s working until he gets a choreo looking the way he wants. He’s here. He’s real. Time continues to march forward.

When he first confessed to Yoongi that he was still struggling, that sometimes he forgets where he is and the fear that accompanies that forgetfulness, Yoongi was heartbroken. But soon, the fae had set up speakers throughout the house, for ambient noise so there was never silence and clocks in every room of his— their —hanok.

“Hey, where are you?” Yoongi asks as they get ready for bed.

Jimin hums a question in response, pulling his shirt off before sliding between the sheets and comforter.

“You seem distant,” Yoongi says. He folds himself carefully under the comforter and lays on his side, curling into Jimin. “Everything okay?”

Jimin gives Yoongi a small smile, reaching out to take his hand. The weight of it is heavy, warm between them and helps Jimin know that his next words are nothing but the truth, “Just lost in thought, I guess. But yeah, I’m okay.”

Jimin leans forward to kiss Yoongi then, pouring all his tenderness and love into the press of their mouths together. His warm lips brush against the older man’s. He feels his heart thump in anticipation and longing as he slides his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel the slow, steady beat of Yoongi’s heart—a strong rhythm that resonates through Jimin’s chest. There is nothing else in this moment but the two of them, enveloped in tenderness and love.

As they spend the rest of the night taking turns touching skin, trading kisses, and pressing each other into the mattress, Jimin stays present, here, in Seoul, in the hanok they share, with all the love that surrounds them. As a summer rain gently patters outside the window, Jimin snuggles closer into Yoongi’s arms feeling the contentment that washes over them both as they finally drift off into sleep.

[kitkatt0430]

In the final episode of 90s Flash, the Trickster returns! Huzzah for Mark Hamill being super unhinged as James Jesse!

Trickster t-shirts being sold outside the courthouse. Which is hilarious to listen to the salesman prop up the shirts.

Julio - Talking about Sabrina Barry - Talking about the Trickster

Neither seem to realize they're having very different conversations with each other.

The Trickster arrives surrounded by cops and apparently having been allowed to continue wearing his home made super villain outfits. And dye his hair. All while in prison.

Trickster - I shall get my revenge on Megan and Barry Allen. And the Flash too, can't forget my undying hatred for him.

He's starting off unhinged already, truly the Trickster never wastes time going straight for establishing himself as lead weirdo of the episode. :D

The Trickster somehow got a hot shot New York lawyer who got off someone caught on tape doing the crime. Presumably fruit of the poisonous tree, but this is a pro-cop show so they wouldn't mention that.

Megan has apparently had good business since the Trickster. Good for her.

A woman claiming to be pregnant with the Trickster's baby gets turned away outside. Our new Prank, I assume. :D

Lawyer lady is fed up with the Trickster already. The judge quickly to follow. He manages to get free of his cuffs and goes to assault Megan. Megan no-sells him and punches him out. Much clapping from the crowd in the court room.

Oh, hey, there's that soon-to-be Prank, shouting that the Trickster is too good for Megan.

Barry and Tina have lunch together (or dinner?) afterwards. And they discuss the Flash's PR. As they're leaving, Megan shows up. Barry gets all pouty because Megan doesn't have time for him - to Tina's amusement. Honestly, I can see the Tina/Barry/Megan ship in moments like these.

Jesse gets his mail, including (mostly) from his admirer. He considers dumping his lawyer who is so tired of him she probably wishes he would. When he's left alone, Jesse realizes that the mail he got from his admirer have a secret message when the pictures on the back are put together. "I'll get you out, Prank."

I like how confused Jesse is over this admirer calling herself Prank.

Trial day 2, Barry sitting in between Julio and Sabrina, probably not realizing he was going to be the buffer in their relationship spat. Sabrina brings up Julio's ex, Jinx. And Barry is too busy enjoying this new information to tease Julio over to realize that Sabrina is... not happy with Julio at the moment.

This time James Jess shows up in a suit and neatly groomed instead of being all out The Trickster like he was last time. He claims to be under the influence of demons. The court reporter looks like the might be miss admirer and, indeed, she clicks a button leading to... a teddy bear on roller skates, dressed as the Trickster, rolling into the room.

She couldn't make it past security on day 1, but day 2 she's pretending to be the court reporter and set up an elaborate escape plan? I'm a bit incredulous, but it's all in good fun. :D

The head of the teddy pops off, Prank puts on her gas mask and swoops over to put one on the Trickster too. The bear is emitting... laughing gas. James shoots a security guard on his way out with his new Prank.

Barry and Megan manage to make it outside and stop laughing, but it's too late. Trickster and Prank are gone.

Prank takes the Trickster to Clarx Toys, home sweet home she says. Apparently she owns the place. They bond over a love of toys and tricks. And she's a little... um... obsessed. For her, the Trickster is the ultimate adrenaline rush. The Trickster looks like he's in love listening to her list her crimes committed chasing the thrill.

James Jesse is already considering another identity, but Prank shows off her outfit and James threatens to throttle her but when she shows no fear, he kisses her instead. He falls back into his Trickster persona for her.

It's oddly sweet - he was already testing out a fake accent, but then he sees how sincere she is about being Prank and drops his plans to leave in favor of becoming who she wants him to be. I can definitely see these two being Axel's parents, to be honest. And now that I'm thinking of it, this Prank - Zoey Clark, played by Corinne Bohrer - is the same Prank we see in the 2014 show. Well, her E1 counterpart, anyway. So that's fun. I knew Prank was a legacy character from this show, but I didn't realize it was the same actress and character like with the Trickster being Mark Hamill again.

Meanwhile Barry is trying to get Megan to take her safety seriously. She's not, but she thinks she is. However, she got a gift from the Trickster. But because my power all over the house just flickered, I have no idea what it is and need to wait for my internet to come back on to finish watching.

*sigh*

That was weird, but okay. Back to the show.

Trickster is still pissed off at her and threatening the Flash, which is what his message basically boils down to.

Megan tries to lure Barry into going into partnership with her. Leaving the CCPD, and Tina, behind for San Francisco with her. Barry's not really tempted - he happens to like being a CSI and doesn't appreciate the way she kinda insults his job. And her idea of 'coordinating' is telling Barry what to do, which also upsets him. He wants a relationship and she's basically offering being her employee, despite how she phrased things. She does realize she screwed up when Barry leaves in a huff, though.

Trickster and Prank take over a tv station to call out Megan and the Flash. His interest in Barry seems to have vanished entirely compared to those two.

Megan, of course, walks into a trap. Or would have had Barry not zipped in to trigger it first. Sneezing powder. Which is funny.

Prank throws some bitey-teeth toys on Megan and then runs off with the Tricksters to their toy company car, leaving a trail of gum behind them. Barry getting stuck in the gum is pretty funny too. That little touch of epoxy.

Prank is concerned if they're gonna kill the Flash, but Trickster says he's got a better idea. By the time Megan finally gets out there, James and Zoey have taken Barry away with them.

We find the Flash hooked up to an electric chair and Trickster jolts him for funsies. Prank wants to look under the mask, but James stops her. Without the mask, the Flash is a nobody and James doesn't want to be up against a nobody. He wants to be up against the Flash.

Barry - What are you gonna do, kill me? James - *crossing his fingers* No.

So it seems the Trickster intends to brainwash Barry into being evil. Barry apparently doesn't consider just... closing his eyes.

Despite having chosen to stay the Trickster for her, James is going increasingly Joker and Harley on her and obsessing over the Flash. Mistreating Prank the way Joker mistreats Harley.

Megan and Tina talk and Megan points out that the only thing really keeping Barry in Central is Tina - proving that while Megan can see Barry and Tina's connection, she otherwise doesn't really understand Barry at all. Not the way Tina does.

okay the tricked out Trickster scooter is pretty awesome ^_^ But it seems the brainwashing has worked and Barry is... engaging in very petty crimes. Silly little pranks practically, but who knows how far it'll go if someone doesn't de-program him soon.

Like his love for Tina? asks the Barry/Tina shipper...

Of course Murph and Bellows see the evil Flash while he's out to play. Prank is upset because Trickster doesn't wanna play with her anymore. She got in this for the thrills and she's not getting them.

It is pretty amusing watching the Trickster and Barry giggling together.

Barry would have had to fix his reputation if there'd been a season 2 of the show.

Tina - I'm gonna use a US Army technique to break the Flash's brainwashing. Megan - Is there anything you can't do? ^_^

Seriously, I can see the Tina/Barry/Megan ship here too.

Anyway, the ladies go to Clarx Toys (or maybe it's Clarks, but the sign looked like Clarx, so I'm sticking with it) and find Prank with a bag over her head with a pic of Megan on it and the words 'nag, nag'. Trickster not being subtle there.

Prank tells them where to find the Trickster and then runs off.

Back in court, Trial Day 3. This time the Trickster is the judge and there's a band in the corner. James has put the lawyer lady, judge, and DA on trial. It's funny hearing the lawyer claim she can get a continuance in a trial overseen by the Trickster and a brainwashed Flash.

Barry is asked to kill them and he's about to comply when... he can't bring himself to do it. His true nature trying to reassert itself. James almost shoots Barry, but Megan saves him. Barry attacks Tina and Megan appeals to Barry's conscience while shooting James. Multiple times.

Tina furthers the appeal to Barry, promising to be his partner for as long as he wants. She gets through to Barry, who collapses.

Trickster - I'm fine. Body armor. I'm not crazy, you know. Also I've got a bomb.

Tina rewired the Trickster's scooter to go boom. I do love Tina. :D

Prank, in true Harley fashion, shows up to save the Trickster. I wonder if Harley was in any way based off of Prank?

Trickster - How can I miss you when you won't go away? *shoves Prank from the car.*

Prank gets arrested and Barry finally runs after the Trickster. The Trickster releases an exploding car from the truck and then has to speed away with Jesse when he releases a bomb in the front of the car trailer truck.

Finally cut to Maximum Isolation, the Trickster in a pink lit padded cell.

They definitely would have brought him back in S2. And it's Max isolation cell 3. So who is in 1 and 2?

Sabrina and Julio have made up. Yay!

Megan apologizes to Barry and asks him to consider her offer. He says he'd love it, but Central City is where his friends and family are. He isn't ready to say goodbye.

Hmm, seems Barry's Flash PR is repaired already. As the defaced welcome to Central City sign is repaired, they're adding a 'home of the Flash' sign to the bottom between the main sign and three smaller signs underneath. One of which I recognize as the Knights of Columbus signage because my dad's part of that. (Basically a Catholic boys club type thing. Their hats are no longer feathered when they do color-guard which means I can't tease him about the captain crunch hat anymore.)

That show was a lot of fun and I'm sad there isn't more. I definitely recommend watching this if you get the chance to. It's silly and campy and very 90s... and it captures that comics super hero feeling quite well as a result.

[httpsobi]

TEAM, MEET... GREEN LANTERN, AT YOUR SERVICE!

WARNINGS/TAGS + sfw, gender neutral o/c or reader insert, vague descriptions of violence, blood and injuries from fights.

A/N + it's a ghost town in here but enjoy!

★ chaotic on the verge of war criminal but also somehow calm, mature paternal figure

★ gets the feral 'i will bite your ankles off' from hal, gets the calmness more from john ♥︎ has probably bit hal at least 5 times when she/he/they were little

★ pretty battle smart, and while she/he/they aren't physically the strongest in the team without her/his/their constructs, has knocked out people with a punch ♥︎ dumb as HELL as a civilian for some reason... like god where does her/his/their intelligence go in daily life

★ best described as the golden retriever/husky friend. smart (sometimes), dramatic, dumb 90% of the time, friendly, clingy

★ most likely part of the og (also known as the cadmus mess) ♥︎ or at least a witness

★ if she/he/they were directly a part of cadmus, probably was going to be grounded for life by the corpse men

★ if she/he/they weren't, probably arrived with the leaguers n' laughed their ass off the WHOLE time the sidekicks got yelled it ♥︎ until they got scolded by john

★ great buddies w/ everyone on the team ♥︎ somehow manages to be good (even great?) buddies with connor ♥︎ i love the idea that connor's this blank n' dead faced dude then there's just someone who's never stopped smiling ♥︎ had a bet w/ robin n' artemis to see how many pranks they could pull on wally before he caught on. it was a tie between all three of them when they all unknowingly set up traps in the same room at the same time n' wally caught all of them

★ calm n collected during fights, usually the one saving kid flash from his demise when he decides to run off like an true idiot ♥︎ often jokes about them being the new speedster n' green lantern duo until they actually turn into them n' she/he/they are just like "... fuck."

★ despite the fact that they are mostly calm, has gone manic n' insane a couple times during battle ♥︎ most likely times: battle w/ amazo, fight with the injustice league, episode 16 in the simulation (i see them going manic as a way to give the rest time to escape, ends up 'dying' to the beams)

★ makes fun of batman like it's her/his/their full time job. they do it like rent's due next month ♥︎ it's a hal jordan thing- started when he would babysit her/him/them n' had no one to cover for him during JLA meetings so she/he/they grew up witness batlantern bicker n' fight like there's no tomorrow

★ the team LOVES listening to her/him/them talk about their time on other planets. ♥︎ m'gann clings onto her/him/them so much when she first joins the team cause like "omg! someone who is spends time off earth!"

★ if she/he/they got a chance to face hal or john during s1e26 when they were under klarion's control, you best believe she/he/they beat his ass n' proceeded to take photos with them unconscious ♥︎ definitely did the rapper poses where they squat with like prayer hands or peace signs over their unconscious bodies ♥︎ if she/he/they had social media for their green lantern persona, you BET they posted it with no context n just "😈🙏🏻🥱🗣" ♥︎ did it w/ p much every other male leaguer too ♥︎ left the women alone cause 'respect our big sexy buff talented women' ♥︎ made robin email the photos to all the leaguers as holiday cards

★ as the team grew n got older, she/he/they either joined nightwing in leading the team or moved on to the justice league w/ zatanna n' rocket ♥︎ probably preferred staying w/ nightwing tho ♥︎ 10/10 is the :D bubbly nice fun mentor who's all joking n' giggles then she/he/they go into missions n' the younger team members are like "what in the hell"

all work n' writing is work of @httpsobi. i ask you please do not copy, rewrite, translate or post on other platforms without my consent.

[andsheloved]

hello madeline:) I have a little fic idea but I think you’re best at turning little ideas into balls of fluff :) If you vibe with this idea and don’t mind, pretty please write something where reader seeks out steve for comfort but he’s busy being a hero. When she gets ahold of him, she wants him to turn off his hero persona. Like, she wants a hug, but she doesn’t want a hug from captain america, she wants a hug from her love steve :D I hope that makes sense! Thanks so much! Congratulations on your milestone! Muah🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

hello friend!! thank you so much for being patient with me on this one!! i do love a good steve rogers hug so this just made my heart so :))))) i hope you enjoy it my dear!! mwauh!! and thank you so much mwauh i am giving you the biggest hug right now mwauh

pairing ~ steve rogers x f!reader

word count ~ 1.5k

warnings ~ angst, fluff and a happy ending i promise, sort of touch starved reader(??), steve rogers needs a hug and so do you, pre-established relationship, dare i say, steve is an emotional himbo (endearing), not good self talk, relationship doubts (but just because steve is a silly man!! he loves you so much don't you worry!!), mention of cheating (no cheating happens are you kidding steve loves you too much), crying, hurt/comfort.

You had thought you had stopped counting the days sometime along the way, but you knew that in your heart that if someone had asked you how long it had been, you'd be able to tell them, maybe down to the minute.

Regardless, it had been too long.

Too long since he had softly knocked on you door frame, leaning his shoulder on the molding while taking you in. His sleepy, raspy voice letting you know exactly what sort of state he was in before you even turned to face him.

"Hey, sweetheart...." You could almost hear his weighted, tired footsteps trudging across your floor as you pictured the scene. "Missed you..."

You could almost feel him wrapping his arms around you as he fell with a heavy thump onto your bed, leaving his duffel-bag and now removed boots by your door, long forgotten until the two of you finally managed to untangle yourselves in the morning.

Thunk.

Your shot your head up from your pillow, the sound ripping you from your daydreaming as you spun your head towards your door.

"Steve!" You all but squealed, pushing yourself from the bed with break-neck speed as you ran to your doorway.

"Sweetheart..." He mumbled, and you tilted your head in confusion, something about this wasn't the same, there was something so tense, so formal, in the way that he spoke to you that had a pit settling in your stomach.

"Is everything okay?" The words fell from your lips before you even had a chance to really think about them, you knew that that was probably the last thing he wanted to be asked after a mission that long, but you knew that it would only cause you more sleeplessness than you already had if you didn't at least ask.

"Tired." He grumbled, offering you a soft smile before quickly shouldering past you, rushing towards the bathroom before just as hastily shutting the door behind him.

Oh.

So it was one of those nights.

You knew the job, you knew that being a hero wasn't all that it was cracked up to be at times, and that sometimes he needed a moment from being Captain America and have time to simply just be.

And some nights that meant being alone, no matter how much torture it brought you to not reach out and touch him when he finally crawled into your bed, you knew that it would be worth it in the end. He would get his time to recharge, and you, well, distance only makes the heart grow fonder, right?

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed, your wandering hands grasping only sheets as you reached for him.

"Steve?" You called out, your voice still slightly broken and heavy with sleep. "Steve?" You called again, the cold flooring that hit the bottoms of your feet sending a chill up your spine as you stood.

You continued to call out his name through your apartment until you could smell the familiar aroma of his favorite, bacon and eggs, wafting through the hallway to your kitchen.

"G'morning" You sleepily mumbled, wiping your eyes of any remaining fatigue as your eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the kitchen.

"Morning." His response was quick, almost biting, and you quickly shot your head up from your sleep-laden stupor to the fridge.

It was then when you finally noticed his attire, not the mismatched pajama set he would usually have on at this hour of the morning, no, but jeans, definitely not pajamas, and a tee shirt, a navy blue jacket thrown over it as he casually slid his eggs onto his plate.

"Where are you headed?" You asked cheerfully, still attempting to remain as nonchalant as possible in your tone.

"Tower." He replied, his answer just as jarring as the last, "Tony wants all of us to be there when all the reports are filed."

You only hummed in response, trying to think of something you could possibly say to him when your brain had suddenly been so filled with far too many intrusive thoughts for this time of morning.

Before you could even begin the sort the words out, the front door slammed closed.

You swallowed, still trying to process his responses to you, let alone how abrupt his leaving was. Your brow furrowed as you slowly closed the refrigerator door, not even remembering what you had gone in there to look for in the first place.

You slowly ambled to the kitchen table, plopping unceremoniously into one of the wooden chairs, a loud creaking sound coming from it as you adjusted yourself.

He would have made that same dumb joke about it if he were here.

But he wasn't.

And you weren't sure if you'd feel less lonely even if he was.

You weren't sure how long you had just shuffled from room to room, looking for something to occupy your mind as you waited patiently for him to come back to you.

You noticed that you didn't feel the same excitement you once did at the thought of him finally coming through your front door.

So you just went about your day as if he wasn't coming home to you. You made your tea in a single cup, made your lunch for one, you even managed to go to the grocery store, just as you had when he had first left you.

Maybe if you imagined he wasn't coming home it all, it would hurt less.

You changed back into your pajamas almost the instant you stepped foot into your apartment.

On any other night, you might have maybe gotten dressed up, maybe you would've cooked a nice welcome home dinner, or if things went south, you new his take out order by heart.

But tonight, you just found yourself perched at the end of your bed, waiting for both someone and no one all at once.

Maybe he had finally gotten tired of your enthusiasm, greeting him with nothing less than the biggest of smiles and the widest of arms.

Or maybe he had met someone else.

Your ever-betraying mind whispered to you from the back of your thoughts, maybe you wouldn't blame him if he did. You weren't any type of super human anyway, maybe he finally found someone more his type.

The soft sound of trudging footsteps broke you from your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, sweetheart..." His voice was warmer, kinder this time, though you still found yourself sulking, lifting yourself begrudgingly from the bed as you made your way to the bathroom.

"Hey, Steve." Your own response surprised you, and if you had a moment to think about it, you probably would have smirked. Good. A taste of his own medicine. But you were too caught up in your own melancholy to care.

You could almost hear how his breath caught in his throat at your tone.

He finally replied after a beat of silence, "Is everything okay?" You could hear how he inched closer and closer to the bathroom door frame, and with every step, you could feel the lump in your throat grow tighter.

He must have noticed the tears before you did, a soft "What's wrong?.." Slipping past his lips.

A hushed whimper escaped you as you finally threw your head into your hands, shoulders shaking as you sobbed.

Your breath slowly returned to you though when you felt his hand brush against your shoulder, beginning to rub calming circles onto your back.

You could hear him sigh as he watched you, you'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't feel good to finally feel the warmth of him finally on your skin, but no amount of small touches would be able to replace the rest of him.

"Tell me what's wrong..." You heard him whisper, "I missed seein' my best girl..."

Your breath shook as you hastily whipped your eyes, lifting your chin slowly to face him. Your lip quivered when you finally did speak. "I missed you."

His brows furrowed instantly, his eyes flooding with concern and worry as they scanned your features, flickering back and forth across your face, and he finally replied with a quiet "Oh."

He gently grabbed your hand, leading you out of the cramped bathroom to stand in the dim light of your bedroom.

"I'm sorry I just-" He cut himself off with a sigh, giving you a sad sort of half smile before he continued, "I didn't wanna put all that on you, I didn't wanna bring it home, and I guess-" He huffed, frustrated with his own inability to explain himself, "I didn't want you to think anything was wrong, so I just-" He closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath before continuing, "I'm sorry."

All that just because he didn't want to bother you.

"Steve..." You sighed, shaking your head. You had a thousand words in your throat, but none of them able to be spoken. Your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the next, dodging your grasp as you tried to form something coherent to say to him, but it was no use, so you said the only thing you could, it was the only thing that mattered anyway. "I love you."

Any distance that had existed between the two of you disappeared in seconds as his heavy arms finally wrapped around your shoulders, holding you flush against him as you both took shelter in the steady sounds of each others breathing.

As he smothered you against his chest, it finally felt like you could breathe again, the weight that had settled itself on your weary shoulders dissipating the instant he pulled you against him.

"Missed this...." He finally whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, "Missed you."

:') i cry, it's been a minutes since i've done a steve rogers drabble and i missed my soft lil golden 40s man!! and just so you know everyone reading this deserves the biggest most wonderful hug from steve rogers, and if hugs are not your thing, the most wonderful, loving, encouraging speech from him is currently being sent your way because he loves you :) i hope i captured something along the lines of what you were looking for my anonymous friend!! and i hope you all enjoyed!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always, always appreciated!!

want more steve rogers? check out my masterlist!!

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[teyvat-imagines]

hi! I just found this blog but I think it's super cool and I like your writing a lot. could you do general/mixed hcs for diluc, zhongli, and venti (+any other characters you want)? what I mean by mixed is that you can throw in fluff, angst, suggestive, etc. basically just whatever you can think up. if this is too vague then don't feel pressured to write it. I hope you have a good day day/evening! -🍎

Hey there :D Welcome and thank you so much!! ^w^ I hope you enjoy :)

General Headcanons

Diluc:

○ Diluc is very closed off from the world. It's been years since the last time he really opened up to someone and let them in close. It takes a lot to get in his heart in the first place, so if he lets you in, cherish that privalege.

○ As a result of the above, he's also pretty touch starved. He wont let himself get too physically affectionate unless he's certain you're going to be around for a long time. When he finally trusts you fully, he relishes in every small touch. The feeling of your hand in his, the way you fit against him perfectly when he holds you close, and of course the feeling of your lips on his.

○ Very gentlemanly when he's dating you. Likes to buy you flowers, hold doors open for you, pull your chair out for your at dinner. He'll tone it down of course if it bothers you, but if you don't mind it, expect to be treated like royalty.

○ I think he really loves kissing your hand. It's almost a ritual between the two of you. Every evening before he leaves to commence his work as the dark knight hero, he takes your hand in his, thumb softly smoothing your skin. You'll stay like that, before he brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

○ Loves to hold you close to him when you settle down for the night. Diluc doesn't always sleep easy, memories of the day he lost his father always creeping in the back of his mind. But when he has you there in his arms, it doesn't always stop the nightmares but it makes them so much easier to deal with.

Zhongli

○ Zhongli falls in love fairly easy, and this is often his undoing. You would think after walking Teyvat for so many years, he would have closed himself off from personal relations if only to save him from the pain of losing those around him.

○ In a way, he does try to keep people at arms length from him. But, there's always exceptions. People always find a way into his heart, be it platonically or romantically. It's almost ironic, the Archon of Geo is so soft.

○ He loves getting to spend time with you when he's dating you. He knows how fragile humans are and how easily you could be taken away from him, so he wants to spend as much time with you while it's still possible. He can talk for hours if you would let him, and it's very soothing to hear. But on the flip side, tell him about your interests. Your hobbies. Hopes and dreams. He wants to learn everything about you.

○ His favourite place to kiss is on the top of your head, especially as he has you held close in his arms. It makes him feel calm. While you're in his arms he commits every moment the two of you are together to memory.

○ When going to sleep, he loves facing you. He'll often watch you sleeping when he wakes in the mornings, enjoying the peaceful expression on your face.

Venti:

○ You would think looking at Venti that he falls in love fast. And to some degree he does. He's very affectionate with most people and it would take a lot to end up on his bad side. But, that's just surface level. Much like Diluc, it can take a while for someone to really be let into Venti's heart.

○ For Venti, complete trust like that would mean letting you see all of him. Not just the happy-go-lucky bard persona he puts on. He lets you see the pain of his past. The anguish of spending years either alone or slowly losing the people he cared about.

○ Physical touch is incredibly important to Venti. He needs memories of you with him, he knows you wont always be around and that he will outlive you, so he wants to hold you for as long as he can. It doesn't have to be big displays of affection either. Even just holding his hand is enough, just let him hold you.

○ Loves kissing your face. He will cup your cheeks with his hands and absolutely pepper you with soft kisses, on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. He kisses everywhere he can before finally kissing your lips, softly and sweetly.

○ Venti actually enjoys being the little spoon when he can. It's not often an Archon can be so vulnerable, and it's a sign of how much he trusts you too. He trusts that you wont hurt him, so he feels safe showing his back to you. He's tired and needs to recharge, so please indulge him and hold him close.

[mariaiscrafting]

no, you know what, I’m going to stop vague’ing on the dash. my anger is about to get extremely direct and enraged, so fair warning, but I don’t care about anyone’s comfort right now. I’m going to get fucking mad, and you all will fucking deal.

not a single one of us has the right, or should even have the option, to guess about ccs’ sexualities. I’ve kept my mouth shut when it comes to people analyzing george/dream and guessing they’re some kind of queer, but I’m fucking done. I’m going to go into every single reason “truthing” about ccs’ sexualities is just so beyond fucked.

first of all, this is in response specifically to ranboo and tubbo truthing. being a kid and getting thrown into such a massive spotlight, where you will undoubtedly be subject to some fuck shit eventually because the internet is full of thousands upon thousands of people, is already terrifying and anxiety-inducing and damaging enough. but for their own audiencemembers - their own supposed fucking “fans” - to take it one step further and speculate about their sexualities? oh, for the love of god. I can barely believe I even have to explain how fucked that is. it is one thing to be friends with or close to someone in real life and recognize your own queer struggle in them, to approach them with sympathy and support in case they are questioning. it is another thing entirely to speculate about the sexuality of someone you don’t even know, and to then take it a step further and “truth” about your fucking theories. you are not an expert, you are not their friend, and you are not a fucking oracle. you can guess all you want about a cc’s sexuality, you can comment on how their actions or behaviors or words resonate with you when you were questioning or closeted, but to go ahead and take your own speculation as truth is arrogant, presumptous, and damaging as all hell. 

I can just imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d grown an online platform that ripped me of my privacy when I was a teenager and trying to figure out my own sexuality. if I had a section of my audience analyzing my every social media post, the inflection in my voice and the nature of my laughs, my every interaction with my best friend, you know what I would’ve done? retreated so far into the closet that I would probably have tricked myself into thinking I was heterosexual. I would’ve been so fucking terrified and felt so stripped of any privacy or control I had over my own goddamn thoughts; do you understand how fucking vile that is? have none of you ever been terrified of giving away your own sexuality through your mannerisms and facial expressions and words, while you were closeted? have none of you ever experienced that utter fucking terror when you notice someone start to question your sexuality, the immediate urge to retreat and back up and act and believe the complete opposite just to prove them wrong and go back to the safety and security of them believing you were straight? for fuck’s sake, now imagine that feeling amplified a hundred fold, applied not just to one instance or one person in your life, but to thousands. do y’all not understand just how a) morally fucked it is to inflict this same kind of practice onto someone you supposedly care about and support, and b) potentially psychologically damaging this could be to ccs who are closeted, especially the fucking minors? oh my fucking god.

that isn’t even to point out why people do this shit - which is to project and find solace and derive some kind of enjoyment out of cc’s. that’s what cc’s are there for; they are entertainers, first and foremost, which continues outside of streams and bleeds into fandom culture and the kind of enjoyment fans can make out of interacting with other fans and creating their own fan content. the problem with this fact is that fans take it too far, like 85% of the time. cc’s aren’t just there for our own enjoyment. they are fucking people, oh my lord. they are real people that we will never know, and while we may have our fun with our little theories and talking to other fans and making and watching cute compilations and writing fanfiction and making fanart, we are just deriving entertainment from the parts of themselves they choose to show us. that persona they put on for the stream, that is not 100% them. they are real, rounded, 3-d, full people who we only ever get the privilege of witnessing a small sliver of. and we need to fucking remember that, because we can’t just keep running with the ideas of ccs that we have in our heads and treating them like they’re malleable characters for our own entertainment. 

anyways, specifically about truthing (and mind you, this is the point in the rant where a little of my anger starts to seep out because I’m tired and it’s 1:40 AM and I have class tomorrow): there’s so many things that can be said about gaydar. I’m not here to argue whether or not it exists, or the details of the morality of straight versus non-straight people engaging in the practice of truthing. I’m just here to say that, even if you believe gaydar exists and can be accurate when employed by non-straight people, that still only applies to people you fucking know. what you see of a cc is not “getting to know” them. what you are seeing is one face of a multi-faceted jewel, cut in far more ways that you can ever hope to one day perceive. your theories are just those - theories. whatever you might think of the giggles you heard or the pickup lines you saw uttered or the softness you imagine between x and y, human interaction is far too complex and laced with meaning for some rando on the internet who watches youtube videos and twitch streams to fully grasp from two entertainers working from behind a screen. your gaydar is not going to fucking work through a screen, fuck off with that shit.

another thing that’s fucking bothering me so much is this assumption that comes with being at all open about queerness when you yourself are not queer. ik this is just one of the many factors “truthers” use to justify the findings of their totally infallible, prophetic gaydar, but it’s a factor nonetheless, and it bothers the fuck outta me. someone being willing to express support for lgbt people or donate to lgbt chairities or open to conversations with other lgbt people about lgbt endeavors is not evidence of queerness. to say that it is contributes to the harmful belief that cishets still have that they cannot be any of those things - that is, exceedingly open about and to queerness - without being perceived as queer themselves. 

anyways, and now we are at the bottom line, which is that, this entire conversation wouldn’t even have to be had if people just fucking listened to cc boundaries. ranboo and tubbo do not like being shipped. it is that fucking simple. i know that it is tempting to ship two people you think are cute together. i know it is tempting to indulge in a dynamic you find comforting. but idgaf. temptation is not an excuse. find some fictional characters to ship, and kindly fuck off.