#dreamwrites

[dreamsgazer]

Hello 🤗, love your works. I know you've done a sick prompt, but I was wondering if you would want to write another sick prompt with a crybaby reader who gets a migraine and (if this doesn't gross you out although this doesn't have to be in great detail ofc) throws up and Tan comforts the reader because they're in pain.

Dear Anon, you have no idea how happy I am to have received this ask, and thank you for your kind words! It means a lot!

I hope I did your request justice!

Warnings: mention of v*mit, nothing graphic at all though, some mild swearing.

MASTERLIST | Requests open, but I'm a bit slow in answering them!

Safe Harbor

The bang of pain makes you open your eyes and wince immediately after.

A migraine. A fucking, painfully horrible migraine.

You knew you shouldn't have indulged in the celebrations for Tangerine's return as much as you did. Too much sweets, too much champagne, too much loud music in the night after your scrumptious dinner together, too much of everything - except for the sex. Frankly, there is no such a thing as too much welcome -back- home- sex.

You fell asleep so happy, and now you feel on the verge of screaming in frustration.

As quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb his sleep, you slip outside the bed, sway down the hall, and reach the bathroom just in time for your stomach to explode.

You feel horrible, gross, and cold, not to mention that running to the toilet has significantly worsened your head's throbbing.

When a second wave of nausea hits, in the middle of the chaos you feel a fresh hand pressing against your sweaty forehead, while your hair is kept away from your face, wrapped in a rudimental ponytail.

"It's okay love, I've got you. Breathe."

Tangerine.

Of course, he woke up. He's such a light sleeper that you wonder if he sleeps at all or just lays down with his eyes closed.

You want to tell him you are sorry you interrupted his rest, you are sorry he has to see you in such a state, you are sorry for being sorry for something you can't control, but all you can do is whimper weakly that you have a migraine.

When the worse has passed, he helps you to sit with your back against the cold, tiled wall of your bathroom. Tangerine immediately notices how you wince when the faint dawn light hits your face, and quickly closes the roll shutters.

"Thank you," you murmur, letting tears slip down your flushed cheeks "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck are you sorry about?".

You gesture at yourself with trembling fingers, too much in pain to even contemplate a witty retort.

He shakes his head, kneeling before you "Let's bring you back to bad, shall we?"

The thought of standing and walking makes you want to cry a bit harder than you are already doing, and you lean on him without shame, wetting his bare shoulder with your tears, and whimpering at every step. He holds you while you wash your face and rinse your mouth, and not once he looks bothered of how slow and whining you are being.

When you are finally laying down on the stupidly costly sheets Tangerine insisted to gift you some months ago, he firmly orders you to wait for him there, while he goes and searches for some ibuprofen in your cabinets.

When you don't reply with one of your retorts, he frowns "That much in pain, uh?"

"Migraines suck," you whisper softly, closing your eyes once more.

Tangerine presses his lips against your forehead, his words tender on your skin "Be back in a second, alright, love?"

Swallowing the tab and the water goes more smoothly than you thought, thanks to his strong arm holding your shoulders, but you can't help rolling on your side and groaning when your brain crashes against your temples with a spasm.

Yep, this definitely sucks.

The mattress dips when Tangerine slides next to you, his arm holding you close to his side, comfortably resting between his chest and those biceps you love to hold on to so much.

"Try to get some sleep, beautiful, it'll help."

"I doubt it," you whimper bitterly, snuggling even closer to him. Despite the shower he took when he arrived at your apartment, his skin carries a faint track of cigarette and vetiver from his perfume.

Perhaps it doesn't help with the migraine, but it's a welcome reminder you are not alone and he's returned safely from his last mission.

"Trust me," he insists with a huff "When you are in pain, nothing is like some good, old sleep."

Well, you guess that when it comes to pain, he has way more experience than you, so maybe his advice is not so wrong.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," you whisper, kissing his scarred skin. His moustache tickles the tip of your nose in return, and he grunts "Don't mention it."

Tangerine is an exceptional partner, in many ways, but you know he still feels funny when you praise him for being kind, or gentle, or nice to you.

He's used to being strong, in control as much as he can, tough to the point of breaking himself before letting anything happen to Lemon or you, once he allowed himself to welcome your relationship in his heart.

You guessed a long time ago that a successful assassin cannot afford to be perceived as anything less than deadly dangerous, and from the bits he told you about his and Lemon's childhood, being praised was dramatically rare.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Considering all of this, the fact that he lets you see the side of him that adores cuddles, gentle teasing, and plain affection feels like a privilege.

Your breaths synchronize, and you feel your eyelids heavy.

"Tangerine," you murmur and he kisses your forehead again in silent acknowledgement "I'm really happy you are here."

A moment of silence, and perhaps you can feel his body pressing even more into yours before he answers quietly about breakfast together in the morning and a day just for the two of you.

If you liked it, please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly appreciate it.

[whateverwhimsy]

Glum

Tumbling out of bed, dreams instigating heartaches finding new realms, cascading down as far as hurt and heartbreak could possibly go these faces are malleable memories but still have the power to cut deep, scraping  up and opening scars tuned to forgetting, truth and perspective no longer invading I dim for lack of light or insight to grasp - repeating “nothing truly lasts forever” until it does.

[mydayswithtarotbystella]

The Power of Dreams: Why Dreamers Triumph Over Fact-Gatherers

A person with big dreams wields a power far greater than someone who merely has all the facts. Dreamers are visionaries, creators, and innovators. They don’t just see the world as it is—they imagine what it could be. With dreams, come plans, new ideas, business strategies, and creative solutions. The path to success is often paved by those who dare to dream and act on their visions. The Power of…

[bestbookbooster]

Fleeting Love

https://english.pratilipi.com/series/fleeting-love-nlppa332ctkw?language=ENGLISH&utm_source=android&utm_campaign=content_series_share

Dev and Anya's story is a passionate but fleeting love affair between two people from different worlds.

[legacydevice]

NTS Dreamwriter T100

[swan2swan]

I need to have some words with last night's Dreamwriters.

See, I was at my parents' house with my family, and there was this blue Praying Mantis on the ceiling. I don't know if mantises can actually turn blue, but I assume the file of the gray mantis I saw a few months ago was there, and it had just changed its color to be blue because of its environment. Normal stuff.

Anyway, the mantis looked hungry, so I got some steak tartare from the fridge and tried to feed it with chopsticks. This was an effort and an adventure. Eventually, I think I got it to work. Or it caught a cricket.

Meanwhile, there was also another mantis sitting in an indoor tree. You know, one of those medium-sized potted ones. Green fella, nice and normal. Hooked that one up with some food, too.

Eventually, the green mantis left the tree, and the blue mantis (now green, for some reason), flew down from the ceiling nearby. The second mantis flew away, the first one flew after it. And we realized,, "Oh! They want to mate! Hurray! Mantis babies!"

Then they flew and landed on a wall, finally together...

....and a FROG JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND ATE THEM BOTH.

[homulilythemagicalgirl]

Keep doing your best <3 A Dreamwriter

Hi!! I missed you! I am so happy to talk to you again! ^_^ I will do my best! I will become a good magi!

[dream--writing]

Chapter VI: The Gates of Paradise

[entheundead]

I have an idea for a convo for a book I'm only dreamwriting its just stuck in my head so ima just make it here enjoy (doubt you will)

"Welcome back, my dearest. How was your first death?"

"Thank you, I feel grea- wait... First?"

"Amazing. You are amazing. Finally, eons, eons, eons have gone past AND YOU'RE HERE WITH ALL OF US ONCE MORE. Death does feel like sleep, doesn't it? One moment you're old and frail and the other you've been restored as young, but still frail."

"Still hating on humanity clinging on their flesh? I enjoy mine and enjoyed your touch as well. Hopefully we can continue it."

"Of course, you, mortals, are fragile beings. The only reason why I cast it aside was because how easily it can be destroyed. Then again it can be easily recreated. Aaaaaaand, uhm..."

"'Uhm' what?"

"Ah, I have no skin, well, not one that can feel your perfection, your greatness, your warmth. I'm no longer a human. That's been happening during your little absence."

"That is a bit of a shame. But you are still you. You'll always be you. Your knowledge, ambitions, desire to help humanity improve. Your obsession with humanity's 'stagnancy', whatever that word means."

"I'm... still me?? You can't feel any humanity in me. What you believed was your loved one is now countless creations of the same entity made of metal... I'm not human, you are human. Yet I'm not as perfect as you. Also stagnancy means inactivity, standing still or, here, lack of improvement of humanity."

"These bodies aren't us. They simply exist to hold our mind and soul in one place. We can choose how to use these bodies to express ourselves and do what our hearts need. And why are you still going on how I'm 'perfect'. You've been at it since we started being together and are still doing it?"

"YOU ARE PERFECT. YOU MAY BE BLIND TO IT, BUT YOU ARE. EVERYTHING YOU ARE IS GREATNESS. YOU HAVE EVERYTHING I TRIED TO ACCOMPLISH IN MYSELF AND IN HUMANITY. COUNTLESS GENERATIONS HAVE GONE IN VAIN TO RECREATE SOMEONE AS YOU, NEVER SUCCEEDED. YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD. TOO GOOD FOR ME. I TRIED TO TAINT THAT PERFECTION, MY DEAR. MY HANDS ARE CORRUPTION, I AM NOTHING, BUT A DEMON, WHO SPOILS THE PERFECT AND I TRIED DOING IT WITH YOU. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, my dear..."

"I am not perfect. I have flaws. I'm but a human, you too, at your core, are human as well. Wake up from your delusions and be sensible about this. The way you see me is-"

"IT IS RIGHT. IF THIS IS A DELUSION, THEN SO BE IT. THE ONLY LIE I'LL LIVE, THE ONLY LIE I'LL TEACH MORTALS. MY EGO WILL NOT TOLERATE IF THE TRUTH IS YOU NOT BEING PERFECT. TOO MANY, FAR TOO MANY... Far, far, far too many lives I've toyed with to prove how great you are... I don't think, no, I can't take it if what they've been through was for nought."

"You've- you've toyed with people's lives? Dear, that is not how things should be. You've said you'll better humanity, yet that seems like cruelty."

"..."

"Dear. What else have you done?"

"Extinction events of everything, of humans... I did recreate them, all of them... That's good, right?"

"No, it'd be better if there was no extinction events. You do realise the harm you're doing?"

"Oh. Ah. Mmm. Yeah, I did. But it's for knowledge, everything is needed to be done multiple times to get better and clearer results."

"And for what? For what was such cruelty needed?"

"You... To make everything worthy of you." "Again with your fantasies of me. I'm not perfect. You have spent enough time with me to realise such a trivial thing."

"That is exactly the sort of reply I'd expect from you. Humble, generous and caring, but will stand your ground when needed. You would literally punch someone back into their senses."

"You're a lost cause, my love. You're a madman."

"Humanity does and did fear me. Yet you still loved me, You're too good for everything. Even me. I'm sorry, my dearest. You will, but you can't forgive me."

"As long as yo-"

"You become better and atone, everything will be just fine... And you doubt your perfection. You doubt my love for you."

"I love you as well, but you need to stop slaughtering people."

"And what gives you the right to order me, you mere mortal."

"I'm your only source of human joy."

"That.... I hate that. That is a good point. Fine. Haven't killed anyone in thirty millennia anyway."

"Can't believe how much of a pain you are sometimes." "Nyehehehehehe."

"Gremlin."

[flower-dagger-gay]

Thinking about how all through middle school and part of highschool, I used to call myself a "dreamwriter" which sounds interesting, but all it meant is that I never wrote any of the stories I had in my head.

[dreamsgazer]

A Bit Closer

Anon requested this fic (my answer here), and I don’t dislike how this turned out!

Hope you all like it, and if so, please comment and reblog, it’s always so appreciated! If you have a request, feel free to send an ask !

Masterlist | AO3 here

Warnings: swearing, mention of blood, murder

“No.”

“Bro-“ Lemon sighed pinching his nose.

“Absolutely not!” Tangerine reiterated, rebelliously lifting his chin.

“We need her.”

“The fuck we do!” the man hissed back, ice-coloured eyes sparkling with outrage “The last thing we need is a rookie to fuck up with the assignment!”

“I’m right here, asshole!” you pointed out from the couch where you had been sitting for the last ten minutes, done with being ignored by the Twins.

Tangerine scoffed, glaring at you, but you firmly cut whatever foul reply he was going to spit “You are right, I’m not as seasoned as the two of you when it comes to killing people. However, this mission requires someone smart enough and subtle enough and discreet enough to infiltrate that mansion, retrieve the envelope, and get out as quickly as possible. Neither of you can do that without leaving a trail of corpses behind.”

“Hey, come on now!” Lemon’s outraged voice didn’t stop you “Also, your last mission was such a clusterfuck that I’m surprised someone is still willing to hire you.”

This last part wasn’t exactly true, and you were aware that things in Dubai went south well before the Twins appeared in some sheikh’s palace, but you couldn’t hold back your resentment at being treated like an incompetent child by Tangerine.

“Ok, ok, calm down now. Both of you!” Lemon interjected, pressing a hand on his brother’s chest “I would say to try working together just this once. I dunno about you two, but I could use the money.” Tangerine huffed and cursed before accepting, and he made sure you knew he was agreeing only because the job was ridiculously well compensated. You rolled your eyes at that but refrained to underline you all worked that kind of job for the exact same reason. “And I’m no rookie when it comes to stealing stuff and information,” you added tightening your lips, still offended “Just because I stir away from corpses and troubles doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. Which is why I was contacted as well for this operation!” Despite the rough start, the mission went incredibly well, all considered – sure, Tangerine had to help you at a certain point, but while retreating from the opulent estate, the envelope full of compromising photos of a very prominent political candidate enjoying himself a bit too much was safely in your hands.

The Twins escorted you to the place agreed for the exchange, and an hour after the photos were gone and your trio was a bit richer.

Lemon grinned “Well, I don’t want to say I’ve told you so, guys-”

“Then don’t,” Tangerine huffed, arms crossed over his chest and a frown barely hidden by his Versace sunglasses.

His Twin tutted “But I did tell you two that it was worth a try!”

“Agreed,” you conceded because not doing so would have been both rude and dishonest, especially towards Lemon. Tangerine could go fuck himself, but his brother had been nice to you for the entirety of the mission. You were just too stubborn to admit that Tangerine was there as well, when you needed a quick way out from that party, having heard someone approaching the studio you were in. He hadn’t left the villa until you both could walk away unnoticed, his arm on your back guiding you outside as if you two were just a couple of bored guests at a normal party.

Lemon beamed at your words snapping you back to the present. He had insisted to give you a lift to the airport. It had been a surprise that Tangerine wanted to tag along.

After that mission, you interacted with them a bit more often. You sold the Twins some intel for a task in Bucharest, then accompanied them to a quick negotiation with some gang about a ransom, and once you flew to Canberra to help them deal with a “fucking authentic Diesel” according to Lemon. The Diesel was dealt with before the day was over, and you found yourself patching up both in a tiny safehouse in desperate need of a cleaning. Truth be told, you expected Tangerine to fuss more about your doing when you pressed a cloth against his ribs, but the massive blood loss and possibly some exhaustion made him quiet and almost… collaborative. As quickly as you could you cleaned his wounds and stitched them, noticing for the first time that his skin was warm, and his muscular torso littered with scars and tattoos. Some of them were nice and others had been clearly done after a job. You wished you had the courage to ask him about them.

“For how long have you been doing this job?” you heard yourself asking, instead. An answer wasn’t really expected, but he surprised you “More years I care to remember. Got my first assignment when I was 18.”

Your eyes widened and he almost challenged you to say something. Which you did, and from his expression, it was clear it wasn’t the reply he wasn’t expecting “It must have been hard. But no wonder you are such a skilled hitman, after all.” A beat of silence, and then he snorted “Are you going to make us pay extra for the nursing service?” You looked him in the eyes, noticing a mischievous grin dancing on his face. Repressing your equally wide one was hard “Of course. And if you don’t stop moving, Tangerine, I’ll double the price.” Tangerine’s laugh was unexpected. It was nice and warm, boyish, in a certain way. You scolded yourself for thinking something kind about him. You berated yourself even more in the weeks after that chat when you finally admitted to yourself how enjoyable it had been to have him pleasantly talking to you, and how nice his skin had felt under your fingers.

You weren’t utterly surprised when the Twins recruited you for another mission. Nothing too big, they said, but they needed someone expert in recognising a counterfeit document. You weren’t sure what to expect from Tangerine after Canberra, but it was disappointing to see he had retreated again into his shell, barely talking to you.

You flew from London to Paris, and he seemed lost in thought, leaving you and Lemon to chat and occasionally glancing at him. They had booked an elegant hotel suite near the Tour Eiffel, and you couldn’t contain your enthusiasm about it. The enthusiasm slightly faded after dinner, when Lemon out of nowhere asked you if you ever carried a gun with you. Tangerine and he had already had a first contact with the gang boss who had the document they needed to inspect, and when they returned to the hotel where they left you the Twins were clearly annoyed and wary.

“No,” you replied, pulling your eyes away from the enchanting view of Paris at night “I don’t usually need a weapon, so I don’t have one. As you could see, my style is more… a sneaky one.” “Did you ever hold one, though?”“Of course, I held a gun before!” you replied, indignantly, hands planted on your hips. Lemon nodded “Cool, and did you ever shoot anyone?”

You hesitated and Tangerine scoffed from behind his book. Your cheeks flushed in annoyance and a hint of embarrassment. Lemon was kinder to you “That’s alright, I’d say you have been lucky if you never had to kill anyone. However,” he said while taking out a second gun from his holster “you’ll need to learn. Just in case.” “I thought this was going to be an easy job.” Tangerine’s voice intervened calmly “It will be easier if we don’t have to worry about you strolling around without protection. Lemon has a fucking “bad feeling” about it.” Lemon didn’t seem to care for his brother's sceptical attitude and just nodded in agreement.

You weren’t too pleased that their afternoon meeting risked putting you in a situation where you were going to need protection. Shooting was not definitely something you were eager to do. Killing, even less.

There was a precise reason you had decided to stick with theft, spying, and selling information here and there, and that was because you didn’t think you had in yourself the will to end someone else’s life. Destiny may had forced you in this peculiar field, but you had sworn to yourself you would stir away from troubles as much as possible.

Maybe collaborating with the Twins was a terrible idea, after all. Troubles seemed to like and follow them, and you knew – you feared – it was only a matter of time before you got involved in a situation you were unequipped to handle. Not that it was your intention to say that out loud. Tangerine would probably mock you forever and possibly gloat at finding out you were so scared at the mere thought of shooting. Apparently unaware of your internal conflict, Lemon brought you to the other side of the suite. A good chunk of time passed before he declared his satisfaction after teaching you how to properly hold a gun and keep the correct pose “You are not bad at this. I think you could actually hit a possible target, if they don’t move too much.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and handed out the weapon to him.

“Keep it,” he shrugged “just in case.”

Your thanks were sincerely grateful, but you so much hoped the gun wouldn’t be needed.

Except that you ended up needing it. Someone snitched on your trio, possibly one of the many enemies the Twins had made in the field. The meeting set up to allow you to inspect this infamous piece of paper was a trap, and guns appeared everywhere.

Tangerine pushed you beyond a staircase, shouting at you to not move from there, before running to help Lemon. It had been when you thought that the worse was passed that you saw a man getting up from the floor, grabbing a shotgun laying next to him. Your hands moved before your brain could process the thing. One moment that man was aiming at the Twins, and the moment after you were pulling the trigger of the little gun Lemon had given you.

The sound was so loud it hurt your ears.

The man fell on the ground with a sinister thud. The blood slowly started to spread under him. He was dead. You had killed him. Someone was talking to you and you swallowed the bile in your throat, trying to focus on the voice suddenly so close to you. “It’s okay, darling. Give me the gun now, it’s over.” You ignored Tangerine’s voice could be so gentle. He quickly grabbed the weapon from your frozen fingers, passing it to Lemon and not letting your hands go “Good girl. Look at me. We gotta move, alright?” You nodded once, your head spinning, and Tangerine’s free hand cupped your face “He deserved it, I promise. You did well, so, so well.” Unsure of what answer would be appropriate, you followed him when he gently tugged you, his arm resolutely holding you against his side, his body shielding your eyes from keep staring at the corpse on the floor.

Lemon’s smile was as gentle as his brother’s grip around your shoulders when he opened the car door for you “Tangerine is right, you did nothing wrong. You saved our lives!”. The drive back to the hotel was unnaturally silent and keeping your body’s trembles at bay was the only thing distracting you from the thought of what you did.

Lemon proclaimed he needed a shower as soon as you set foot in the suite, and with great surprise, Tangerine didn’t go to his bathroom. Instead, he forced you to sit on the velvety sofa and gave you a glass of whiskey. His hands around yours, he helped you drink a sip of two. It was disgusting, but the warmth it spread in your limbs was welcomed. Tangerine smiled at you, tentatively “I need to shower as well. I suggest you do the same. It… helps, trust me.” It helped a bit, but the echo of the shot was still in your brain and the sight of the dead man planted in your brain when you reached them in the living room, seeing they had the room service deliver a dinner you barely touched. Nobody talked much and you felt their eyes checking every single movement. Lemon called your name “We are sorry things went shit like that.” You nodded, sipping a bit of water “It’s ok, I should have expected that sooner or later – well, it was meant to happen, right?”

That night you couldn’t sleep. Clearly. Maybe crying would have helped, but your throat felt dry and constricted, your eyes even worse. You were frozen in shock and fear. The bedroom seemed too little and the ceiling too close. With a gasp, you threw your covers away and quickly walked in search of fresh air. Tangerine was laying against the balcony’s railing in the living room. You hesitated, but he turned sensing your presence and motioned for you to go to the terrace with him.

“Can’t sleep?” a flicker of light sparked in the night and he lit his cigarette with expert gestures “Want one, love?” You didn’t know if it was his unexpectedly kind voice, or the fact that he used a pet name, or the fact that it felt as if the two of you were the only ones awake in the entire city, but you couldn’t answer, a painful lump of tears forming in your throat. You just hoped that the relative darkness of the terrace was enough to hide your distraught state.

“Perhaps I should go – I should go back inside,” you murmured, clearing your throat and clasping together your shaking hands. It was not a surprise, but a real shock when Tangerine took a step closer to you, his hands gently enveloping yours to steady them. You felt everything at once, your eyes finally swelling with tears, your lip wobbling, cheeks flushed in mortification and a not little amount of pleasure in having him so close, despite everything.

A huge sob escaped your contracted lips regardless of your valiant efforts to compose yourself.

Tangerine paused the tiniest fraction of a second before taking you in his arms. Pressing your face in the gentle curve where his neck met his shoulder, you wept and sobbed for what it felt an hour. Only when your sobs started to slow down enough for you to take a quivering breath, you realized Tangerine’s hand was moving in slow circles on your back, the other one lightly holding the back of your head. You knew you shouldn’t have lingered against Tangerine letting him softly cradle you, let alone closed your eyes focusing on your heartbeats.

Surely, he was going to recover from that moment of weakness soon enough, pushing you away and hurting your feelings. Feelings that you are too tired to hide anymore, at least to yourself. Pressing your forehead against his shoulder, you wondered when it happened, exactly. When did you develop feelings for him? When did you start hoping he would text or call about a job just to have the resemblance of a contact?

You should have known you were heading in that direction the moment you jumped on an airplane to Australia just because he was there. You should have suffocated whatever you felt but you couldn’t, and now your heart was at risk to be broken. You sighed against him. It was stupid, but oh you were so ready to take the risk.

“Better?” His voice was tender, tickling your temple. You straightened your shoulders, gently pushing against his body “A bit, yes. I’m sorry.” His hands slipped from your nape and your back, just to lend on your elbows, not really allowing you to go too far away from him “What the fuck are you sorry for, love?”

You laughed despite yourself at his quizzical face and choice of words, a solitary tear dropping down your cheek with the movement. Tangerine caressed it away with his thumb, following an imaginary path util he could reach your lower lip, slowly stroking it. The fire under your skin roared alive, making you feel giddy and tingly.

He slowly bent over, clearly giving you time to stop him, to walk away as you should have done if either of you had an ounce of common sense.

Tiptoeing, you instead surged forward, quickly mimicking his previous gesture, and grabbing his nape with shaking fingers.

His pleased laughter died against your lips, when you opened them for him, swallowing his thrilled groan, your doubts, the horror of that day. Every caress of his hands had you feel more centred again. Every swipe of his tongue against yours had you moan and push away bad thoughts. You wanted everything he could give you, and he felt so willing to indulge you.

Tangerine backed you up against the wall, keeping you pressed between the marble surface and his body, squeezing you so tight you weren’t sure off where he started and you ended.

“I’m so fucking sorry I pulled you into this mess,” he panted, his lips kissing every inch of your face he could reach “and you shouldn’t be around us. I can’t guarantee you it won’t happen again, love.”

“I know,” you replied breathlessly “I know. But you didn’t pull me, I decided to -”

He kissed you again, almost ferocious and then he breathed his confession against your swollen lips “I did it. Lemon didn’t want to get you involved this time, he suspected something was off before we arrived here. But -“

Tangerine stopped, his moustache twitching with the nervous movements of his lips “I wanted to see you and I didn’t want to simply pop up at your home and ask you out. Couldn’t risk embarrassing myself if you told me to fuck off, could I?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise and he grunted “I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. If I had listened to my brother... but you know how I am, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” you nodded slowly, hands caressing his handsome face “you are stubborn and have the mouth of a sailor, and care for the ones you love more than you care for yourself.”

“A pretty flattering portrait,” he smiled, grasping your wrist and pressing his mouth there.

“What happened wasn’t your fault. Or Lemon’s. You were right to mock me because I don’t usually carry a gun with me. I’ve been naive for too long, for someone working on this kind of job.”

“I wasn’t mocking you. I was laughing at myself, because you are too good for this life, too innocent, and I’m a dangerous man who does terrible things, and I should just tell you to fuck off and never return, you know?”

You nodded “Yes, but I wouldn’t listen to you if you tried.”

“Yeah, I feared that much.”

You hugged him, needing to let him know that you wanted this - him - as much as he did. Things weren’t going to be easy all the time, but you genuinely thought you could build something glorious together.

“Tangerine?”

“Yes, love?”

“As soon as we are back home, you are going to properly ask me out, ok?”

“More than ok.”

He sealed the promise with a kiss. You were in this together.

[sillylovingpupper]

...there's actually...two halves to the vow I made. The vow of the Dreamwriter. The promise of the Dreamwriter, and the promise of the Dreamwriter to be.

"I am the Dreamwriter. I am the dream of those who cannot abide by the sufferings and cruelties of the world, of those who refuse to give up hope even in the darkest of nights. I am the one who believes in a shining future that none other dare to dream. Who would write a world where all can be who they want to be without regard to the chains of the world or fate, and grant all the colorful lights of this world a place in the weave." ...and mine. "Because that is who I am. Who I want to be...who I would be, when this torch is entrusted to me. Someone who can share those dreams, and keep the light from going out. Someone...Who would even give up a sweet song if someone is in trouble. Who can't be content accepting what the world tells her is impossible. The will to see dreams come to pass, and the determination to not let what 'should be' take the place of what I feel in my very heart."

[mydayswithtarotbystella]

Relationships: Currents Toward or Away from Dreams

Every relationship in our lives acts like a current, either propelling us toward our dreams or pulling us away from them. This perspective has become a guiding principle for me, especially when reflecting on the people I dream about and interact with. The connections we maintain, nurture, or let go of play a crucial role in our journey toward achieving our goals. Dream Supporters vs. Dream…

[deandacosta]

Dreamwriter https://t.co/NDxN4GXa5A

http://dlvr.it/T358Sj

[byunbaekby]

title — the following (teaser) pairing — demon!haechan x female reader genres — horror, angst overall warnings — language, religion, mentions of murder, torture, elements of haunting (more to be added). release date — october 26, 2pm pst / october 27, 6am kst projected length — 3k-6k additional — for the #neohalloween event hosted by @nct-writers​

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The dark demon can hardly keep the devilish grin off his tiers, watching you. Beautiful, you are. He’s seen you before, in the handful of times you’ve dared to cut through the cemetery on your way home. With an amused, almost teasing shake of his head, he tsks. “Bad decision, little lamb.”

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask whoever you’re speaking to on the phone. Donghyuck can barely remember what human food tastes like. As a demon he doesn’t eat humans, let alone get hungry, but if he had a choice, you’d definitely be his first choice.

Your soul is good. He wants it.

If he can’t have you, at least he can play with you a little. 

It doesn’t take much. The moment you glide through the path and under the darkness of his hill, all it takes is the slightest snap of his fingers to send you flying forward, body meeting the dirty ground. He’d love to make you stay down there, perhaps drag you down below with him, but that would be no fun. 

Rather, he plucks off one of his rings, one of the many decorating his hands for absolutely no one to see, and tosses it seamlessly into the pile of your things that has spilled across the path. As he watches the way you carelessly shove everything back into your bag, his cheshire grin grows even wider. 

As you scurry away, Donghyuck jumps off his grave which he had occupied for a century and lands on his feet. With a wipe of his hands on his jeans, he watches you go. 

“Stupid little lamb. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

The rest of the walk home, you can swear there are steps behind you matching yours.

[demwhore]

Maniac (M)

PREVIEW

Pairing: Mark Lee x Female Reader

greaserl! mark | soc! reader | 

Description:  greaser! au || After a sudden drink at the West side with your soc friends, alcohol kicked in your senses; showed up at your ex boyfriend’s home, alone, carrying a shovel and a rose.

-words ➙ estimated around 10k

-genre ➙ romance, angst, young adult fiction 

-warnings➙ language (lots of cussing), drinking (alcohol), scenes of making-out, gang fights, mention of bloods, weapons, abuse, violence, burglary, bullying, this is a problematic fic because it is based on the novel “The Outsiders”

-A/N ➙ This is actually inspired by Conan Gray’s Maniac, and the book The Outsiders, lol. I will be posting my soon-to-come-fics hehe, I hope you will all like it! I do not condone the actions written in this fic, I don’t romanticize abuse or violence. This is just for fictional purposes ONLY.