#glow: welcome dreamer

[dreamglowrp]

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[cup1dt3a]

Hi, hope this is ok to request, if not feel free to ignore it. Can I request a continuation of the story you recently wrote about reader and their sister watching welcome home and them talking with Wally?. I would love to see Wally and Reader starting to bond and if you’re comfortable writing it, the reader falling in love with Wally too. Thanks so much.

Your wish is my command! Also you’re too kind and your request is so wholesome I like it. Way more fluffy than my original idea but I like it better since my last post was kind of dark! Anyways hope you all enjoy!

“ Wally! Look it’s us! There’s me, big ___, and you!” Your sister happily exclaimed to the puppet wanting to show off their stick figure drawing.

“ Oh that’s very nice little one have you shown ___ yet?” He asked through the screen with a small tilt to his head as they shook theirs.

“ No it’s a surprise so don’t tell them!” They said putting a finger to their lips as a way to say it’s a secret.

It’s been a month since your “conversation” with Wally and true to his word he watched over her like a hawk. Taking care of them with their limited reach throughout the screen. You were just happy he kept his word but you still had an odd feeling about him. Throughout the passing month as you supervised their interactions each one was wholesome and sweeter than the last. Almost too cute in your opinion. Your sister tried to hug the Tv once and accidentally brought it down with her thinking it would be a good idea to pick it up. After having the biggest scare of both your lives her and Wally were ok. Thankfully the Tv didn’t shatter and the weight didn’t crush her. But she had sobbed her eyes out from the scare of the Tv coming down onto her.

Both you and Wally comforted her after the scare and for once she had calmed down very quickly. Completely fine just a little scratch on her cheek. She called it her battle scar it made her happy so whatever. But you were just amazed at how fast she calmed down. Still flabbergasted as you made your way back from work. You set out enough food to last her a few hours and she knew to get food she wanted from the pantry or fridge so she would be ok. But with Wally’s help you had a free babysitter so it was a win win.

You turned the key to your apartment yawning as you made your entrance. Right as your younger sibling excitedly hugged you in the darkness of your home startling you for a second.

“ Geez, you almost scared me!” You chuckled hugging them back before putting your bag down.

“ I made you something!” They said before could ask turning on a light switch to show the colorful stick figures.

They explained it was all of you. Each drawn out as stick figures she was at the side of you holding your left hand while a very tall Wally held your right.

“ Hmm…very lovely buuut.” You said as they looked up at you in confusion before snickering adding “ I think Wally would be a lot shorter.”

You saw the puppet huff out in the corner of your eye making you giggle. Your sister also huffed at you upset for making Wally upset. The puppet blushed upon seeing your gorgeous glow as you giggled out ever so graciously. If only you knew what you did to him with that beautiful smile.

You plopped down onto your comfy bed sighing in delight to finally be off your feet. You had just put your sister to bed and they compliantly agreed to go to bed right away if they got pancakes. Pancakes also had been sounding super good to you so why not? Besides you were too tired to argue with anything at the moment. You had worked 2 extra hours and went through three rush hours. They were all so much fun. Your feet were aching and your eyes formed bags getting heavier as you kept your irises open.

As you turned over to face your Tv about to put a horror movie or something on Wally all the sudden appeared with his big smiling face.

“ Tiring day huh my sweet dreamer?” He said with a tilt to his head as you nodded.

“ Poor thing always working so hard. You’re wilting more than a flower in the winter.” He cooed at you as you slowly dazed off.

“ Good night my sweet.” He told you.

“ Night love you.” You replied only half awake to have any conception of what you said as you snuggled your pillow closer to you

He froze. He couldn’t believe it. You just said that. You said you love him. Oh how the words just replayed in his head as if they were his favorite lyrics of a song. Repeatedly echoing through this head as he watched you ever so peacefully sleep going off into your own fantasies. He wondered if you ever fantasized about him. What would you think or see him as in your dreams. Oh he hoped they were as good as his. He yearned everyday for the feeling of your flesh on top of his. Oh how would you smell? How would you feel? What would you do if you were given the opportunity to have him in person? Oh he hoped you’d embrace him as tight as he hoped to. You’re such a delightful little sweet of his. His own forbidden fruit that was all his to savior and enjoy.

As you dreamed away in your fantasy land the puppet had longingly gazed at you the whole night admiring every bit of you he could take in. Even with his limited access to you you never failed to grace him with your generous looks. Oh great gods how you reduced him into nothing other than a mushy mess of putty for you. Just for you. After all everything he did was for you.

You woke up earlier than usual but still felt so well rested. Stretching out you noticed the the screen was blank for once. It was odd usually Wally was there to greet you. You oddly wanted him to greet you. Your morning just felt off if he wasn’t there to greet you with his big dark eyes and wide smile on your Tv screen. You got up to go check if he was busy with your little sister. You checked their room just to be sure they were awake and to your surprise they were sleeping. You looked at the time seeing it was only 6 in the morning. No wonder they’re still knocked out. You swiped your hair back pushing your bangs and loose strands of hair to go and find out where Wally was. You yawned again as you went to the living room still not seeing your little friend.

“ Wally?” You called out hearing no reply.

“ Wally you there?” You asked out again.

You didn’t know why but you felt your heart stop knowing he wasn’t here. You couldn’t help but no notice ho empty you were starting to feel without him as you continued on with your day. You made pancakes at 8:15am he still wasn’t there. You finished getting ready for your shift at 9 o’clock. You took your sister to work with you not sure if he’d even come back. It was a rainy day out so you made sure they brought their raincoat and umbrella. Your boss was fine with you bringing her even without asking before hand. He had expressed this multiple times, so you hadn’t bothered to ask this time.

It was again a very busy day at work. Your sister this time had to play with herself since Charley wasn’t there today due to him having to go on some diet because of stomach inflammation. Along with them not having any food suitable for his diet here. And yes, your sister had asked your boss all about that while you insisted she didn’t and left them alone. He once again said he didn’t mind but you felt so bad! As you dragged her to an area where she wouldn’t bother any customers you finally got back to your shift, after getting her some food. Sure you wasted your own lunch break but she needed to eat either way. She was still a growing girl she needed protein even as much as she protested against broccoli she ate it with a glare at you.

As you went back to your shift you couldn’t help but have your mind wonder to where Wally possibly could have went. You sighed out pulling back a strand of hair as you wiped down the messy table. Some people seriously can’t even try and have some decency as to not make a huge mess. You wondered if they poured their food all over the table at this point.

You chuckled at a thought lingering where you accidentally poured soup into your lap. Wally had made it a joke where-

“ Hey! Hello anyone home?” Your coworker clapped their hands in front of you getting your attention.

“ What is it?” You asked as they crossed their arms. “ Wha- What’s been up with you? Smiling and gazing off into the distance…Do you like some one?” They asked.

“ No!” You said “ Lies! Plus you suck at lying.” They exclaimed teasing you.

This is how your day continued being constantly teased by your co-worker and checking up on your little sister. Before you knew it was the end of your shift. Just as you were about to leave your boss pulled you to the side. First, thanking you for your hard work then requesting you to work another shift for tomorrow since they’re low on staff. You tiredly agreed wishing him a goodnight as you went to get your sister. Helping her zip up her raincoat and sort her stuff back together you both walked back home. Glancing at any Tv screen to see if Wally was there. Sadly none of them displayed the yellow puppet all just a blank screen or some show. But soon enough you didn’t have anytime to see if he was on them because the rain had started to get heavier. You both rushed back hand in hand trying to watch your step as the rain drops flooded the streets.

Panting as you made your way up the stairs you finally reached your apartment door. Just as you got out your key the door had ever so slowly opened nothing but darkness was seen in the room through the creek. Someone must have broken in while you were gone. Your heart raced on what to do. You just wanted to lay down and go to sleep but no the universe just loves to fuck you over everyday. You looked down at your sister while she looked up at you with nothing but confusion and worry. You softly smiled at her and dropped her over at your neighbors apartment across from yours. Even asking them if they heard anyone going into your apartment which they replied no.

Now this is even more concerning. Did they take anything? Oh no what if they took all the money you’ve been saving up? What if they stole every ounce of clothing, money, or food you had. Sure it wasn’t that much but still!! Before leaving your neighbors house you unzipped your bag grabbing out your trusty old bat you used to use. Slowly opening the door trying to make it not creak as lid you went inside. You held your breath as your heart raced protesting. Walking through the empty darkness slowly creeping towards where you leave any money in case they had left or you just forgot to lock the door. Just as you opened the drawer the lights suddenly flickered on. Blinding you as you squinted only to feel long thin arms wrapping around you while a head rested onto your shoulder.

“ Hello my sweet-“ the familiar voice said as you punched the poor soul behind you cutting them off. Wait a minute my sweet? That what…oh shit.

“ Wally? Is that you?” you stuttered turning around as the tall figures head lied low cupping his now bleeding nose.

“ In the flesh. Literally I have flesh now.” He said looking up as he dusted his rainbow trousers off ignoring his bleeding nose now.

“ How-“ you questioned as he answered quickly ” It’s a tricky process buut I managed.”

He then gazed into your eyes with his own. It was odd but he really did resemble his puppet form in this now human one. His hair still in his signature swirl with his large black eyes peering down onto yours with admiration.

“ Tired hmm?” He asked as you nodded before he scooped you up.

This was going to be getting some used to. Now with his lanky tall figure being able to scoop you up and embrace you any moment. You had made fun of him being short once any now this is what you get great. Your tired mind wasn’t comprehending many many questions that should have been asked but right now you didn’t really care.

Tysm for reading hope your day is going well or gets better

Sincerely - Cup1sT3a💌

[milswrites]

To the stars who listen

~Rhysand X Fem!Reader

Summary: Looking upon the stars for the first time since leaving the mountain, Rhysand makes a wish. Only to be surprised when his dreams are actually answered.

Warnings: Mentions of what happened to Rhys under the mountain. (otherwise the only way I could describe this is as fluffy angst?)

Fic for @starfallweek

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.

The world was full of dreamers.

Humans, Fae and Faeries alike. The power of the night sky knew no bounds. All were welcome to look up to the heavens and all were able to wish upon the astral beings to their hearts content.

The stars knew nothing of discrimination, shining for all should they only choose to look up.

They were infinite. Unyielding.

Having centuries of experience when it comes to lighting up the night sky.

A patient guide, a willing listener, a teller of stories.

To Rhysand, stars were just as important as the air he breathed.

Which is why he found himself here, on his first night of freedom after escaping the mountain, sat alone on his balcony at the House of Wind. His violet eyes, dulled after half a century of pain by Amarantha's hand, locked onto the sky above him.

Fifty years.

That was how long the High Lord had been deprived from watching the stars. Fifty long years without their comforting presence to whisper to. Unable to share his dreams, his prayers for the future. Hidden from the golden twinkle which told him they heard him, storing away his wishes, holding them safe until they came true.

So here he was, staring longingly at the night sky. Searching his mind for what he wanted to say. Wondering exactly how he would greet them again.

It was a beautiful night for it.

Not a single cloud hovered overhead. Allowing the stars to shimmer brightly in all their majesty. Rhysand couldn't recall a time where he had ever seen the stars gleam with this intensity.

Heart twinging with hope, he imagined their vivid illumination was for him. That it was their way of saying hello to an old friend they had missed. Their way of showing him they were listening.

So Rhysand spoke.

A soft breath from his lips as he whispered to the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of its almighty glory danced in his soulless eyes.

"I wish I felt like me again."

His own eyes watered at his confession, throat turning dry as his mind never failed to stop playing out the horrors of which he had endured under the mountain. Each blink of his eyes brought along the flashes of deep red hair and rouge painted claws.

Rhysand no longer considered himself a dreamer. Not as long as these nightmares plagued his thoughts.

He was a broken man.

A cracked mirror. Only he couldn't figure out how to piece himself back together again. How to move on from the trauma of his past which had settled in his bones.

So he repeated his wish, his words floating into the cool night air like a prayer. Desperate eyes searching the glowing stars, begging for an answer. Begging for some instruction as to how he could move on, how he could be Rhysand again.

But there was nothing.

The stars were silent.

There was no shimmer of acknowledgment. No sign that they had heard the broken call from the male. They stayed unchanging, staring back at him with no acknowledgement of his wish.

Disheartened, Rhysand cast his bitter eyes to the ground. Cursing himself for being so foolish as to believe that the stories his mother used to tell him held truth.

Perhaps that's all they ever were. Just stars. And Rhysand was just the fool who had hoped that they could be something more.

Sullen, he made to move inside. Disappointment welling in his system at the knowledge that sleep most likely won't come to him. That dark-eyed and exhausted tomorrow, he would have to pretend to his family that all was ok. That he was ok.

For one last time he cast his violet eyes back to the sky in despair. Taking turns to stare at each glistening orb. Forcing himself to look for something he no longer believed was there.

Then, just as he was about to give up and retire to his room, there was a flash from the corner of his eyes.

It was only small, the white light which had crept into his vision. But it was definitely there. A streak across the inky black sky. Breaking the darkness as it barreled over Velaris and towards the forest-cloaked mountain in the distance.

Rhysand was driven by pure instinct.

He leapt from the balcony. Large wings growing from his back until they began to powerfully beat against the gravity pulling him down, carrying him upwards towards the mountain. Towards the mysterious light which was still barreling through the sky, gaining momentum as it was moved downwards. Almost appearing as though if it was falling.

This stirred the male to act faster. To urge his wings to close the difference between himself and the light quicker. Beating them and beating them until a dull ache had settled in his muscles.

But he had to get there.

The white light disappeared between the trees, its intense aura had dimmed to a low glow. It's flickering energy enough for Rhysand to still follow the trail as he flew down to the ground in order to land. Curiously threading in-between the tree's as he made his way towards the source.

His eyes squinted as he neared the fallen light, heart pounding as he was able to make out the shape of a figure from inside the glowing orb.

The ethereal being walked towards him as the brightness dimmed, allowing Rhysand to drop the hand which he had lifted to shield his eyes. Though whilst the orb of light had faded, the skin of this otherworldly being still glowed strongly.

"Who are you?" He questioned weakly, unable to don the mask of an all-powerful High-Lord because he knew whoever this was, whatever they were, he would be no match for them.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Their voice was soft, angelic, as though the words they were speaking came from the melody of a song. The gentle tone reverberated in the quiet forest, clinging to the air as it failed to fully disappear. Hovering closely by like an inextinguishable echo.

"No. . .no. It's impossible. You're not real" his head shook in disbelief, violet eyes wide in shock. There had to be another explanation to this. To who this strange being was.

"You called, Rhysand. So I came."

"But- but how? Am I dreaming?"

An amused smile crossed her face, soft pink lips lifting into a gracious curve, "Is that what you think this is? A dream?"

His brows furrowed as he considered the star's words.

"No" he concluded, heart sinking at his realization, "This is real. I haven't had a dream in fifty years."

"And why is that?" she questioned, her siren's song attempting to draw the words out from his lips, even though Rhysand had the unsettling feeling that she already knew the answer. That she probably already knew everything about him.

The thought of which churned his stomach in an unpleasant way. Had she been able to see everything that happened under the mountain, even though Rhysand couldn't see her? His rising anxiety over this prospect rendered him unable to speak.

"You've asked me who I am," she started attempting to soothe his rising worries by giving him something else to think about, "But who are you Rhysand? You want to feel like you again so badly? Who is that?"

"I. . . I don't know. I don't know who I am" he cried, searching eyes boring into the star's as if her silver orbs would hold the answer that he's looking for. But they remained untelling, instead they only willed him to continue speaking.

"What I do know. . . Is that I'm not the same man who entered that mountain."

Her unwavering smile remained, its presence pouring through Rhysand, relaxing him until it reached his very soul.

"And why do you have to be?" she asked, moving closer to the male so he could absorb some of her calming energy.

"Because it's what's expected of me?" he meant to say it as a statement, make the point that his court and his family were relying on his council now he had returned, yet his words came out more as a question, seeking truth from the empathetic features of the star.

"Expected of you? From your court? From your friends and family? Or is it just yourself telling you that."

She was right of course. Her piercing eyes already knowing the truth about the male before he did. Yet, where he usually would have found it annoying, there was something rejuvenating at the way she was able to understand him.

At the way she was able to peel apart the layers of his swirling thoughts, unstick the pages of the book who made him who he was. Mend the broken edges and the cracked spine. Her words acting as the hands which where smoothing the pages back to normal.

She turned her face to the sky, eyes casting beyond the overhanging canopy to meet the night sky. Silvery eyes lovingly looking upon her family.

"We never stopped waiting for you Rhysand. Fifty years we looked down to that mountain. Waiting for when the day would come that you returned from its depths."

His heart ached sweetly at the knowledge. A sad smile creeping onto his face at the awareness that the stars had longed for his return.

That whilst he had been trapped within the shadows of the mountain thinking of them, they had kept their eyes on his prison, waiting for him to return.

"You're not broken Rhys" she confided, "You're still the same man who went under the mountain, if not an even stronger one. You stared death in the face and you lived. You're here. Allow yourself to feel the pain. Give yourself the time to heal. There is light on the other side."

"But what if I can't find it?" Rhysand worried, "What if I get lost?"

"You never will. We will guide you Rhys, just as we always have."

She began to glow with more ferocity, Rhysand having to squint his eyes once more from the force of the light she emitted. Fear sparking inside his chest at the realization that she was leaving, that her time here was drawing to a close.

"No, you can't go! I need you!" he begged, doing his best to desperately stare into the light so she knew just how serious he was being.

"I'm always there Rhys. I'll watch over you every night, all you have to do is look up."

By this point the sheer brightness of her presence was too overwhelming, Rhysand having to turn around to avoid being blinded. His violet eyes turned to the ground where they locked onto the shadow of his figure. Onto him. Not the fractured male he had assumed crawled out from the mountain. But Rhysand, High Lord of the night court.

"We're always listening Rhysand, and every dream you send to us shall be answered. All you have to do is ask."

The light behind him vanished. Leaving the male standing in the dark solitude of the forest. But he wasn't alone. He knew that now as he turned his glistening eyes to the night sky.

Lips upturned in a peaceful smile.

"Thank you" He whispered gratefully to the stars.

And Rhysand could have sworn that the stars smiled back.

[impala-dreamer]

When I Think About You

A Supernatural Story

~ Even the sexiest of ideas can sometimes go comedically wrong...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, with Sam, Jack, and Castiel cameos

2,037 Words

NSFW, Sexy Comedy, Failed Stripper Routine, Accidental Indecent Exposure, Naked Dean.

Written for @jacklesversebingo "Failed Striptease/Lap Dance" square. Hope you enjoy!!

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

‘Ditch the boys and hurry back…’

That was all her text had said and Dean could hardly keep his mind from skipping through a field of wild sex fantasies while driving back to the Bunker.

The guys in question were left to fend for themselves, believing Dean’s excuse of Y/N not feeling well for his quick escape. They’d get a ride back to Kansas when they were ready. Hell, Sam was no stranger to hot-wiring cars and Jack needed to learn sometime.

Dean pushed the Impala down the road, breaking eighty as his imagination ran rampant. The steering column protested by shaking violently, but he knew she could do it. Besides, this was an emergency. A mysterious, sexy emergency.

Forty minutes later, Dean Winchester burst through the garage doors and into the Bunker’s expansive hallway system. She must have heard the door slam shut, for her voice called to him in a sultry echo.

“I’m in here…”

Thankfully, ‘here’ was straight ahead once Dean skidded around a corner. His boots screeched to a halt as soon as he saw her. Y/N was stretched out on the glowing table in the War Room, her curves on full display as she lay on her side facing the door.

His eyes went wide.

His heart skipped three beats.

His blood rushed south and his jeans shrunk.

“Welcome home, Mr. Winchester.”

Her lips were stained a deep crimson; her eyes lined in devilish coal. Her body was covered in emerald and black satin that clung to every dip and hid only enough to make his mouth water in anticipation. Her tits were pushed up and full, her hips wide and straining against the thin material.

Dean swallowed hard and stared at her, his vision cloudy but focused. “Uh… hey.”

A smirk tipped his lips upward and she laughed gently.

“You’re too easy to ensnare,” she teased.

In lieu of a protest, Dean gave the denim at his crotch a tug, giving his boys some room.

Y/N smiled proudly and rolled onto her belly. “Have a seat, cowboy.”

There was a single chair by the table, strategically placed for optimal viewing. Dean licked his lips and complied, quickly taking a seat.

With a tap on her phone, Y/N flooded the room with the opening riff of a very familiar song and Dean let out a soft chuckle.

“The Divinyls? Really, Y/N/N?”

She popped up onto all fours and Dean’s gaze was locked on her gorgeous, hanging tits.

“Why not?” she asked in reply. “It’s a great song. And it says everything I want to say.”

Dean inhaled slowly and sat back, reclining as he rubbed his hands down his thick thighs. The song started in full, but he couldn’t hear much but the pounding of desire in his ears. “Is that so?”

With a sexy pout, Y/N spread her knees and sat back on her heels. “It is.” A hand ran slowly down her throat. “I hate it when you’re gone so long…” She teased a finger across her cleavage, entrancing him further. “Makes me crazy…” The hand dropped farther down and skated up her inner thigh. “Makes me… touch myself…”

A rumbling moan left his lips and Dean adjusted his jeans once more. The strain was distractingly painful, but he didn’t want to rush. “Fuck, baby…”

Y/N smirked and swayed with the music as she climbed onto her feet. High above him, she moved to the beat, trying to keep in time with the song while turning him on.

Her rhythmic timing was terrible.

“I don’t want… anybody else…” She sang along, her voice deep and arousing, but the lyrics and her feet wouldn’t work together and she stumbled.

Dean hissed in a cringe of worry but she righted herself quickly, carrying on with the seduction.

“When I think about you, Dean… I touch myself…”

She turned in place, circling her hips perfectly.

His mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into her plump ass. “So hot, baby…”

His praise knocked her off course and instead of dipping down into a sexy squat, Y/N lost her balance and ended up back on her hands and knees.

Seeing nothing but lust in his green eyes, she bit back embarrassment and crawled towards him. She puckered her lips and batted her eyes.

“You’re the one who makes me come runnin’...”

With unexpected dexterity, Y/N hopped down from the table and spun towards him.

Dean spread his legs as she moved between them; held his breath as she ran a hand down his chest.

“You’re the sun who makes me shine…”

Dancing closer, Y/N lifted her knee to rest on the chair and give him a show, but she clipped his sack and Dean’s eyes went crossed.

“Holy shit!” She jerked backward. “I’m sorry!”

Dean held up a hand and shook his head; lips still sealed tight against a whimper. “We’re good. We’re good. Carry on.”

Carefully, Y/N picked up the beat again and wiggled for him. He smiled and she bit her lip coyly as she teased the strap of her bra off her shoulder.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praised as feeling returned to his privates. “So hot.”

Blushing, she turned away and dropped the other strap. “Been thinking about this all week,” she cooed.

“Me too.” Dean shifted in the chair, watching as she slowly unhooked the clasps holding her tits in place. “Missed those beautiful ti-”

As she whipped the bra off, her elbow connected with his chin and Dean’s teeth clanked together painfully. The ringing filled his skull and he shook himself to clear away the stars circling overhead.

“Fuck!” Y/N rushed to him and gingerly held his face. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Fuck!”

He blinked up at her and cleared his throat, coming back to reality. “It’s uh… It’s OK…”

Her shoulders dropped. “No, it’s not! I almost gave you a concussion!” The embarrassment breached containment and ruined her plans. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to give you a treat, ya know? Like, do something super sexy when you got home and I- I fucked it all up.”

The disappointment on her face broke his heart just as much as her elbow to the face had killed his erection.

Standing up, Dean wrapped her in his arms. He tried to ignore the fact that her naked breasts were pressed so enticingly against his chest.

“Baby…” He kissed her forehead. “You did great.”

She groaned.

An idea sparked in his head.

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll show you how it’s done…”

His wink made her melt and Y/N sank into the chair, covering her bare chest with an arm.

The speakers were silent for a moment as Dean climbed up onto the table. He took a breath and turned his back to her, preparing. When the song started again, he grabbed each side of his unbuttoned gray flannel and whipped them open. He rolled his hips and tugged the fabric from his right shoulder and glanced behind him. Y/N’s sadness had vanished, replaced by a look of pure wonder. He winked again and she swooned dramatically.

Another rock of his hips and he switched sides, exposing the black tee on his left shoulder.

Y/N whistled. “Yeah! Take it off!”

“I don’t want… anybody else…” Dean took to singing along as the flannel left his body. He turned and tossed it at Y/N who caught it and buried her face happily in the musky fabric. “When I think about you…”

His belt buckle opened easily and Dean evicted the leather from its usual place with a flick of his wrist. The metal crackled on the table and Y/N sucked in a quick breath.

“OK, that was hot…” She slid down on the chair as her knees fell apart in a less-than-ladylike pose.

Dean grinned and reached behind his head, grabbing a fistfull of fabric. “You know it, baby.” In one swift motion, he pulled his tee up over his head and balled it up.

Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of his big bare arms and soft stomach. A lustful moan was stopped short when she bit down on her bottom lip.

The tee landed at her feet.

“I close my eyes and see you before me…”

Dean was so far off-key he wouldn’t be able to find the ring, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t hear a damned thing above her own heavy breaths and racing pulse.

He kicked off each boot; let his jeans pool on the table.

“I touch myself… I honestly do…”

Y/N’s vision blurred everything but Dean. She was captivated and aching, practically drooling by the time he jumped down from the table and stood before her. Her body was throbbing, her nipples hard and ruddy.

Dean moved between her knees and set his hands on the arms of the chair.

“Like what you see?” he asked, rolling his body into her.

“So much…”

He dipped down on a trajectory for her waiting lips, but pulled back at the last second, leaving her needy and whimpering.

“Oh, you’re good at this.”

Spinning around, Dean gripped the chair again and lowered himself down over her lap. “I’ve had a lesson or two over the years.”

He arched his back and rubbed his ass against her panties.

“Let’s not discuss your past exploits right now…”

Perching lightly on her thighs, Dean grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest. “Whatever you say, baby. It’s your buck.”

Guided by his touch, Y/N’s hand fell down his body, enjoying the twitch of each muscle, the heat pulsing off of him. She shivered and felt the wetness drip between her thighs.

“I’m not paying for this,” she teased, reaching into the elastic of his boxers.

“Well…” Dean spun again and sank to his knees. He moved in for a kiss and her heart stopped. “I’m sure I can think of a way for you to repay me.”

This time, his lips landed and Y/N crumbled. Her blood sizzled as he licked into her mouth. She clawed at his thick shoulders when he nibbled at her throat and moaned his name as he rolled her nipple between his lips.

As the song looped for the sixth time, Dean kissed his way down her body and pressed his hot mouth against her covered pussy. She arched her back and moaned loudly, so ready for his tongue. She lifted her left knee and rested it on his shoulder; gripped the chair as he licked at the wet spot on her panties.

“Dean… fuck… I-”

“Just relax, baby.” Slowly, he licked her again. “I’ve got you.”

Her head fell back as his fingertips snuck into the hem of the emerald satin and she held her breath as he peeled the fabric down.

“Fuck-”

Dean grinned and licked his lips at the sight of her swollen clit, pulsing and ready for him. “Fuck…”

“Fuck!”

They hadn’t heard the big door open and close, hadn’t heard the footsteps thudding on the iron balcony as the guys walked in.

Y/N did, however, hear Sam’s gasping curse.

“Holy fuck!” She jumped in the seat, quickly covering her chest as Cas and Jack appeared at his side.

Startled but disinterested in stopping, Dean sat back a bit and looked up at the crew. “Hey guys!”

Sam rolled his eyes and Jack leaned over the railing to see what was going on. Quickly, Castiel laid his hand over his eyes, blocking the pornographic scene from view.

Concerned, Jack tried to squirm away. “What is it? Is Y/N OK?”

Dean, still toying at the edge of her panties, grinned up at the angel and his brother. “Oh, she’s more than OK!”

Disgusted, Sam threw his hands up and backed away.

Jack clawed at Castiel’s fingers, trying to pry them off.

The angel shook his head at Dean.

Y/N covered her face, then her tits, then her face, then gave up. “Hey, Cas?”

He cocked his head. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How hard is it to die from embarrassment?”

[ivorydragoness44]

Morgie Le Fay x Merlin’s Kid! Reader: Blush

(A/N: A collaborative piece between @where-dreamers-go and @ivorydragoness44 for an insert reader who is headmaster Merlin’s kid attending Merlin Academy. A little moment between classes where friends and everyone in between could interact. Warnings: None. Word Count: 642 words)

A dazzling blue sky day and fresh air greeted you as you stepped outdoors. Another class completed. A few minutes were allotted before the next and you took the opportunity wholeheartedly.

Your mind needed the break as much as you needed to stretch your legs.

Rounding a corner, you caught sight of pink and blue. Familiarity struck your mind.

At it again, you thought while spotting well-decorated baked goods on a tray. Where does she find the time? There was no lying to be had, they looked delicious.

Bridget, with enough kindness to spread across all the lands, was offering dessert to Uliana. It was not the first time either. You highly doubted it would be the last.

Expressions were bright, but the other young villains approached with alarming eagerness. Mischief in tow.

Ella stood firm by her friend. Defensive position, perhaps? Or unyielding loyalty?

No time to act like the present, you thought as you walked over. Silent support. No confrontations. Strength in numbers. Keeping positivity up was an easy disguise of reminders not to go against the family rules. No headmaster’s office trip equals no grounding.

Bridget glanced over to you in minor surprise. Her signature smile widened.

Keep things friendly. Neutral.

All was such for a moment.

An even more familiar presence stepped into your personal space to greet you with glowing eyes. “Are you here for the sweet treats?” Morgie asked with an open-mouthed grin. A teasing challenge.

You could feel the others’ gazes on you then.

“They’re always welcome to have one.” Bridget stated kindly, trying to keep the peace.

But you couldn’t resist an opportunity to play. If only just a little.

Turning directly to Morgie, you let your eyes shine with your own magic and inquired in a near whisper, “Is that why you’re right here?”

You both stood there a long moment. Two magic users staring intently. Locked in the start of a challenge.

Bridget giggled, “He’s blushing.”

Everyone’s focus landed on the boy in front of you.

You blinked.

Indeed, Morgie’s cheeks were flushed, and the glowing of his eyes faded with the self realization.

That’s new.

He tore his gaze from yours and pulled at his scarf, as if it was suddenly too tight.

Laughter erupted behind him as the villains took a look at their companion. They were no less bewildered than he was.

“Just warming up?” Hook smirked and threw his arm around Morgie.

The blush crept to Morgie’s neck and ears.

Again, you were struck with another layer of surprise.

What’s happening?

A dramatic groan escaped Uliana as she rolled her eyes.

In a manner of a few seconds, decorated desserts were snatched and the villains left as fast as they appeared.

Calm surrounded the three of you in the abrupt quiet.

“That was unexpected,” Ella voiced with a hint of disbelief.

“Agreed.” You watched as Morgie was lead away and out of sight.

“Especially you.” Bridget pivoted on the spot.

You threw your hands up defensively. “I wasn’t trying to start trouble. I promise.”

“Morgie was.” Ella crossed her arms.

Her friend smirked and added, “Not that kind of trouble.” Bridget glanced at you again.

“What are you getting at?” You asked, brows furrowing in the slightest.

“Maybe magic is in the air and Morgie…felt something.” A knowing smile followed her words, encouraging and sweet.

“Heh, uh, I don’t think — no. Not that.”

She nodded, pink curls bouncing.

“Then he must have bumped his head and forgot I’m the headmaster’s kid.”

“He’s bad news.” Ella stated simply.

“Morgie’s…” You couldn’t form the sentence. No words pulling negatively toward the boy could be uttered. Your shoulders dropped.

Oh, no. You thought as your stomach fluttered.

“I need to get to class.” Hastily, you raced out of the courtyard with a rush of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out @where-dreamers-go

Also, if you'd like to read more Disney's Descendants, view my blog's pinned post: My Masterlist of Masterlists

Disney's Descendants Fanfiction Masterlist is coming soon!

[five-and-dimes]

Sloom

AO3

In many ways, Dream feels inferior to the rest of his family. Which means he struggles when Hob asks to meet them.

Well this took a million years longer to finish than I expected and as usual I struggled with the ending but we gotta call it done at some point, lads, so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream tries not to think about it too much, because it makes something in his heart ache when he does.

How he was made wrong.

He doesn't understand it- he was born the same way as his siblings, and yet somehow he is the only one… lacking. Everyone else understands humanity, everyone else understands themselves, everyone else doesn't struggle to connect, to speak, to share, to exist in a way that doesn't hurt.

Even Desire, whom he despises so much for all the games they play to torment him…

But then, Desire is only so cruel to him. Maybe that, too, is his fault.

He had thought it was enough to do his job well - to protect the dreamers and his realm and all the power it contains. He can withstand being a bad sibling, a bad friend, a bad husband, father, lover, person (he can withstand it, he can) as long as he is good at his job. He doesn't play games, he doesn't let himself get distracted, he fulfills his purpose, he is good at his job, and that is enough. It has to be.

(And then he fails at that, too.)

(He had made himself good for one thing. Now he is good for nothing.)

He walks with Death, and his elder sister lovingly twists the knife. She reminds him of all the ways he got it wrong, got all of it wrong, and he wonders if she would have bothered to come if he had called at Fawny Rig.

(He wonders if she would have come if one of their other siblings had been captured.)

(He wonders if they all aid each other when he's not looking.)

(He doesn't look.)

She tells him to visit Hob Gadling and it feels like an execution. He feels like he’s bleeding, like he’s being sentenced to a slow death, like all of his wounds are on display for anyone to dig their fingers into.

He feels like he deserves it.

And so he drags his feet, first to the hollowed out husk of the White Horse, and then following a bright line to someplace new, someplace glowing with life and possibility and when he crosses the threshold he feels like a weed. He is too dark for this place, too cold, and when he sees Hob he expects to be kicked out like a stray dog.

Hob smiles at him. Smiles, and Dream feels a little less cold.

“You’re late.”

No condemnation. No cruelty. No accusation or malice or brutality.

Dream is breathless with it.

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

Somehow, Hob’s smile brightens. When Dream sits across from him, he feels, for the first time since 1916- no, since long, long before then- that he is welcome and wanted.

When he came here Dream had braced himself for punishment. Instead, they sit and talk long into the evening. Soft and hesitant, Dream gives Hob his name, and Hob glows like he’s been given the answers to the universe. Bright and enthusiastic, Hob speaks of all he has done in the past century, and Dream listens and lets himself sink comfortably into the warmth of companionship.

Eventually, Dream knows he must return to his responsibilities. It aches to think of leaving this soothing place, but he feels as though a balm has been spread on his wounds. Still hurting and aching, but less so than before.

Before he stands to depart, Hob places a hesitant hand on his wrist.

“Feel free to drop by before 2089, yeah? Anytime.”

There is a long pause while Dream considers that. Despite how kind he had been, it feels inconceivable that Hob would want to see Dream more than he has to. But he cannot deny the way his chest clenches with hope at the idea of feeling this warmth again so soon.

Perhaps it is selfish.

But Dream agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time it comes up is on their third meeting in as many weeks.

They are sitting together on a comfortably worn couch in Hob’s flat above the New Inn, next to each other but still with a respectable distance between them. Dream is trying very, very hard not to misstep in his friendship with Hob. And a part of that, he understands, means sharing the information Hob has asked for for so long.

It is a deeply uncomfortable experience for Dream. A part of him (the part that is still, in some way, shivering deep in the Burgess basement) cries that his secrecy is all that has protected him. That Hob, in his human greed and longing, will turn into Roderick the moment he realizes what Dream is, what he could get from him, what he could take from him.

(That same part of him, curled up the cold glass orb of his heart, cries that it’s better to just give it to him.)

And yet, in all that Dream tells him, Hob never turns cruel. He explains his function, his creation and rule over dreams and nightmares, and Hob’s eyes alight with wonder. He describes his realm, his subjects and landscapes and the Sea of Dreams, and Hob leans forward like an excited child.

And, when he stiltedly explains the nature of the Endless, Hob laughs fondly.

“You know, that actually explains so much.”

Dream tilted his head in confusion, “How do you mean?”

Hob waved his hand vaguely, leaning back in his seat, “Well, all your cute little quirks,” Dream resolutely ignores the warmth in his face from being called cute, “how formally you speak, and all the human things that seem to go over your head. Of course human social niceties aren’t natural to you, not only are you not human, you’re as old as the universe.”

Frowning, Dream looks down at his hands in his lap. He thinks, as he often does, of Death. Of her easy mingling with humans, her casual conversation, the way people smile at her. He thinks of his own shy smile and how all it does is make people walk away faster.

He doesn’t think being Endless explains anything about him, actually.

(It occurs to him, suddenly, that maybe it is not that he wishes to be unmade. He simply wishes he had been made right.)

(Or, perhaps, never made at all.)

“Hey.”

A warm hand covers his, and he looks up to find Hob leaning into his space, shooting him a small smile despite the concern in his eyes, “I’m not criticizing. It’s endearing,” he laces their fingers together, soft and gentle, “I like your quirks.”

That word again. Dream swallows, feels the words build at the base of his throat, they are flaws, they are faults, do not be fooled, do not show me mercy I do not deserve.

But before he gets a chance to explain, to warn him, Hob leans in closer, “I like you.”

The kiss is hesitant, he can taste the anxiety on Hob’s lips, the way he clutches his hand a little harder as though bracing to be pushed away. Dream does not have the strength to push him away. It takes every ounce of effort he has just to keep his tears from falling as he melts against Hob, pressing closer and drinking in Hob’s sigh of relief.

Dream stays long into the night, until Hob drifts to sleep in the circle of his arms. He never corrects Hob’s assumption on his nature, the words still stuck in his throat. Choking him.

But not enough to open his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Hob drawled, putting his arm around Dream's shoulders in a way that was clearly trying to be casual and not succeeding even a little, "When do I get to meet your family?"

Several months have passed (several months of opportunities to tell the truth, to be honest, to crack his ribs open and show Hob everything wrong with him-) and their relationship has grown like a blooming flower. Dream feels warm with Hob, and Hob smiles easily whenever he visits.

Dream does not want it to end.

He hums in consideration, even as his entire body tenses against his will. He has told Hob about his family, though not extensively. He has told him their names, and the order of their birth, but not the intricacies of his relationships with them.

(He has not, even once, mentioned his parents. Hob hasn’t asked.)

(One of the first nightmares he ever crafted was that of a child crying for a parent who refuses to turn around.)

Beside him, Hob shifts a little uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as he rambles, “I know it’s one of those silly human things, the whole ‘meet the fam’ part of a relationship, but well, y’know me, always curious about your life.”

Hob does that fairly frequently, explaining “human mysteries” or sometimes laughing fondly as he guides his “silly Endless” through whatever social mishap he’s found himself in. Always explaining away Dream’s stumbles with his inhumanity.

And now, he wants to meet his family, and Dream’s chest tightens at the thought of Hob expecting to meet more cold and aloof entities who don’t know where to put their hands and instead being met with Endless who are so much better.

“I… understand,” His speech is as faltering as the rest of him. “If you would like. To meet one of them. I can arrange a meeting.”

Pulling him closer against his side, Hob’s eyes brighten with excitement, even as he checks, “Are you sure?”

Dream nods, barely feeling the kiss on his cheek as he thinks of each of his siblings in relation to Hob.

Delirium and Hob would likely find each other a delight (an irony which does not escape him), both so vivid and full of life, always looking at things in new ways. They are both so bright, so colorful in their own ways. So jarring next to Dream's darkness.

(He pictures Delirium questioning why someone as nice as Hob is with her mean older brother.)

(He pictures Hob realizing he doesn't have an answer.)

He does not think he could bring himself to call Destruction, if he would even answer, but he thinks he and Hob would make fine friends- both turning away from the violence of their pasts, searching instead for ways to grow and nurture.

(Dream had to be punished into changing. Had to be tortured in order to grow.)

(He thinks he grew like a weed. Or perhaps an infection. Just because he is more does not mean he is good.)

If he's honest with himself, he thinks Hob and Desire would get along as well. Hob would probably be good for his sibling in a similar way that he was for Dream, able to understand the soft parts that Desire hides, and them able to share in the joys that life has to offer in a way Dream struggles to, so accustomed to denying his own wants.

(Desire hurt him. Desire hurt him.)

(He has been told that he is worse.)

Thinking about it, he thinks Despair would like Hob. He had the unique ability to truly appreciate despair and understand its value, and Despair had an appreciation for life that Hob could relate to.

(What does it say about him, he wonders, that Despair wants to live more than Dream does?)

Destiny would almost certainly decline any offer to meet, and Dream doesn’t know that he and Hob would be friends, per say, but…

(He imagines Destiny standing before the immortal, forgoing any small talk and telling Hob bluntly that he is destined for things far greater than his broken little brother.)

But, in the end, he knows there was always one person Dream wanted Hob to meet, even if it makes him lose him. So he steels himself and forces the words out.

"Hob, would you like to meet my elder sister, the one who gave you your immortality?"

“Death?” Hob goes a little wide eyed, “Is that- I mean, I can meet her without, y’know…” he makes a crude slashing motion across his throat.

“Of course,” Dream answers steadily, “She can be present among mortals without bestowing her gift upon them. She will not take you. Unless. You ask.”

“No, no, not planning that anytime soon,” Hob is quick to reassure, “Or ever, really,” he tacks on with a smirk and a wink.

Nodding, Dream allows himself to reach out and take Hob’s hand. He will miss this warmth. “I will speak with her, then. And arrange a meeting.”

Hob’s grin is wide and bright, and Dream can feel it as Hob presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his cheek bone, “Excellent! This will be fun, Love! I’ll pick up some of that wine that you liked enough to actually drink- or, would you rather we meet in the Dreaming?”

Dream only barely manages to suppress a cringe, but even so he bows his head, as if he could somehow hide within his own curled spine.

“I would. Prefer to let you meet on your own.”

Hob's smile falters, "What? Why?"

Because I do not want you to see us side by side. Because I do not want to make my lacking more obvious than it already will be. Because I won't survive seeing the moment your eyes turn cold. Because I'm scared.

"I merely wish you to get to know each other without my influence."

He can see so clearly in his mind’s eye, Hob glancing back and forth between the two siblings, one so charming and kind and good, and the other… lesser. Lacking. Dream does not wish to be present for that realization.

Recovering his grin, Hob laughed lightly, "Ballsy of you. Most folks I know wouldn't have the guts to leave their siblings and their partners alone together," he leans forward to play with Dream's hair teasingly, "What if we exchange secrets, eh?"

I'm a liar, I lied to you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-

“That is within your right.”

Hob laughs, startled, and pulls Dream flush against his side, “What a fair ruler you are,” he says jokingly, “Well, I can’t wait. It’ll be endlessly fun,” he winks, trying to get a rise out of Dream.

Dream smiles back. But it’s a little weaker than usual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream stares at the ankh for a long time before he picks it up. A childish part of him wants to leave the gallery and feed Hob lies and excuses. Death is very busy, she could not make the time, I called and she didn’t answer, she didn’t answer, it has happened before-

But. What would that accomplish besides delaying the inevitable?

He cradles the ankh in his hands, “Death. I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil.”

“Dream!” He can hear the smile in Death’s voice, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wish to discuss. A personal matter. Would you care to join me?”

Death steps beside him almost before he can finish speaking, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

She's so casual and easygoing, but a part of Dream can't help but search for any lingering anger or resentment from their last talk. He wonders if she's forgiven him.

(He wonders if he's worth forgiving.)

Straightening, he explains flatly, "Hob Gadling wishes to meet you," he pauses before adding, "In a nonprofessional manner."

Snorting, Death replied, "Well, I could have guessed that," she grinned, "But you're finally letting me meet your little project?"

"He has become. Far more than a project."

"I know, I'm teasing, silly," she shoved his shoulder playfully, "I'd love to meet him! Just tell me when and where and I'll make some time."

Nodding, he considers his options. He is torn between stretching out his time with Hob and simply getting it over with. In the end, he chooses what he feels is a polite and reasonable timeframe.

“One week from tomorrow, in the afternoon. At the New Inn.”

“I’ll be there,” grinning, Death linked their arms together, “I can’t wait, I bet you two are sickeningly adorable together.”

A bitter part of him thinks Death would just be sad to see someone like Hob shackled to Dream.

“I will not be present. This meeting is for you and Hob.”

Death pulls back to look at Dream’s face, frowning in confusion. For a moment she seems to consider her words, before settling on a question, “What’s going on in that head of yours, little brother?”

Dream meets her gaze and answers flatly, “Nothing of importance.”

There is exasperation in her voice as she huffs, “I hate that you really believe that.”

He loves his sister so very much. And he does not have the strength to be yelled at right now.

So he straightens his spine and keeps his voice even, “I will let Hob know of the time of your appointment,” he allows himself to soften, just slightly, “He is looking forward to meeting you.”

“I look forward to meeting him, as well.” Death knows she has been dismissed, and so she gives Dream one final squeeze on his arm before departing back to her duties, a gentle rustle of feathers echoing through the gallery.

For a long moment, Dream stands in his gallery alone, gazing at the sigils of his siblings.

He will go and tell Hob of his upcoming meeting with Dream’s sister. And if he stays longer than strictly necessary, if he presses a little closer than he usually does, he if stares too long at Hob’s face in an attempt to commit his smile to memory, Hob is nice enough not to comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is not raining in the Dreaming.

Dream does not feel that kind of sadness. There is grief, for certain but… it is a grief he believes he has no right to feel. This is not sorrow, it is justice, a loss of something that was never his to have. He cannot cry, he cannot mourn, he can't, he can't, he just-

The Dreaming is covered in a thick layer of fog.

A white mist, so thick it feels like you could move it with your hands, wade through it, drown in it. Dream is in one of the gardens surrounding the palace, grinding his teeth and trying desperately to make it go away. He had hoped that going outside would at least help clear the fog that had permeated the palace halls. Matthew had flown into a wall twice before resigning himself to perching on Lucienne’s shoulder until the hallways were visible again, and Dream does not think he could survive if another raven was injured due to his weakness.

The week had passed too quickly for his liking, time showing him no mercy. He had visited Hob each day, an unusual occurrence that Hob had raised an eyebrow at but otherwise not commented on. And in all that time, Dream had still not told him the truth. He did not explain that the Endless he was to meet would be nothing like Dream because Dream was nothing like the other Endless, did not confess to having cheated more time with Hob by misleading him about his nature. And now, it was too late. Hob would leave, and Dream would always be a liar.

Sighing, he leans against the tree behind him, looking up and frowning as the fog hides even the leaves above him. Sometimes he wishes he had more control over his connection to the Dreaming. More control over himself. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they wish mastery over their own bodies, their organs, their blood.

The fog is getting thicker.

Growling deep in his throat, Dream presses the tips of his fingers against his temples. There is no reason for him to feel so… lost. He has existed and survived before Hob, and he will continue to do so after. Happiness is not necessary. And besides, he has wanted to be a better person, and would a better person not prioritize their loved one’s happiness over their own? It is an irrefutable fact that Hob deserves better than Dream is capable of, so it is the least Dream can do to not stand in his way.

Pulling his knees to his chest, he wraps his arms loosely around them, feeling as bare and exposed as he had in Fawney Rig, suddenly thankful for the cover of fog. Perhaps, he could allow himself this respite. A moment of selfishness, and then he would pull himself together. Just one night to grieve where no one could see him. Just one night to hide-

“There you are!”

Dream’s head snaps up, eyes wide with a shock he could not hope to conceal.

Because Hob is here.

The immortal is smiling, like he has every other time he’s seen Dream, stumbling slightly through the fog before plopping himself down to sit pressed against Dream’s side. This close, he can see the spark of concern in his eyes even as he throws an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“Well this is a bit different. You know I saw Merv actually sweeping the fog? What’s crazier is it was working, swept it into a big pile and then pushed it out the front door. I know anything is possible here, but I will admit I did spend a few minutes just staring at that spectacle.”

Throughout his rambling, Dream is aware that he is staring. A quick assessment of his own body alerts him to the fact that his mouth is parted, and he is literally gaping at Hob. How unbecoming.

When he fails to respond to his story, Hob’s smile dims, and the concern in his eyes amplifies, “Hey… is everything alright?”

No. Nothing makes sense. He feels more lost than before. He thinks the fog is getting thicker, heavier, colder.

“You…” He clears his throat, trying to compose himself even a little, “You were. Supposed to meet Death today. Did. Did that. Not happen?” That is the only logical explanation.

But Hob shakes his head, “No, we did, got back a couple hours ago, just took me a bit to fall asleep,” he chuckles a bit to himself, “She’s a riot, honestly, nothing at all like all the skull and crossbones nonsense.” He gives Dream a warm smile, “I can see why you two get along so well.”

Dream is. Dream is-

He opens his mouth, and all that comes out is fog.

“Woah, okay,” Hob jumps a little, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his grip around Dream’s shoulders tightens.

Fog is drifting from the corners of Dream’s eyes.

He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He feels so lost-

“Alright, hey, hey,” Hob pulls him closer, wrapping him in a firm embrace, “Love, I think we should go to the Waking, okay? Is that alright?”

Dream forces himself to nod against Hob’s chest. His body is no more bound in the Waking than it is in the Dreaming, but sometimes the distance makes it… easier, if only a little, to keep his shape. As opposed to here, where the edges of Dream and the Dreaming often blur together. Like now.

Hob kisses the crown of his head, and Dream can feel him pulling away, waking up, and Dream follows the pull. In the space between realms, he forces his form together, like holding a door shut, like clenching a fist. When he arrives, he is laying on top of Hob, who is splayed out on his couch. Some hysterical part of him wants to scold Hob for not settling in his bed to sleep.

As Hob fully awakens, his arms reach up to embrace Dream, and Dream can’t help but curl his hands in Hob’s shirt. Slow and gentle, Hob maneuvers them to sit up, and when he pulls back, Dream cannot look him in the eye.

“Hey…” Hob cups his face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles on the hinge of Dream’s jaw, and Dream realizes for the first time that he is clenching his teeth together hard enough to crack human bone. He fears what will come out if he opens his mouth.

“You’re alright, dove,” Hob whispers, still trying to coax Dream into relaxing his jaw, “Everything is alright, I’m right here, sweetheart, I’ve got you my love.”

It takes a few minutes, just Hob whispering softly and soothing his fingers over Dream’s skin, but eventually Dream musters the courage to let his teeth separate, parting his lips just slightly. He sags with relief when all that escapes him is a shaky breath.

“There you are,” Hob presses a kiss to Dream’s forehead before tucking his head beneath his chin and pulling him into a hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Ever patient, he waits until Dream is breathing evenly to question him, “What’s going on, dearheart?” He rocks them back and forth as he speaks, “You’ve been off all week. I should have said something sooner, but I thought you were just nervous about me meeting your sister.”

Swallowing thickly, Dream forces himself to answer, “I was.”

Hob pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion, “Okay, but everything went fine? I told you, we got along great.”

“But…”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Dream feels as lost now as he did in the Dreaming. How does he explain this to Hob? How does he explain it without drawing Hob’s attention to that which he somehow missed? He should be grateful that Hob is still here, how is he supposed to tell him this truth without making him leave?

Is he destined to make him leave no matter what?

Belatedly, he realizes he is still clutching Hob’s shirt.

He lets him go.

“I did believe. That you would enjoy each others’ company,” he explains resignedly, “And I assumed that in your meeting, I would. Lose your favor.”

Had he been looking, he would have seen Hob’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “You thought I would like her more than you?” His voice is heavy with disbelief.

“In a sense…” He had not considered Hob finding romantic interest in Death, as Hob seems to think, “I merely thought that. In meeting her, you would realize…”

(Death never struggled with her words the way Dream, the Prince of Stories, always seemed to.)

Taking a deep breath, he tries again, “We are both Endless. And yet. She is…”

“Different?”

“Better.”

Hob sucks in a breath as though he’s been slapped, “Dream-”

“You think that all the things wrong with me are due to my nature as an Endless,” Dream interrupts, the dam broken as he spills out everything he has been holding back for months, “and I let you believe that. But the truth is, my siblings are not like me. They do not struggle with humanity as I do, nor do they share my penchant for arrogance and cruelty. Death is older than I, and yet you saw her- she is kind, and she speaks normally, and she understands-” His voice cracks, and he has to pause, closing his eyes and forcing his molecules to stay solid. To stay here.

“The problem is not that I am Endless,” he confesses in a whisper, “The problem is that I am… me.”

Dream keeps his eyes downcast, fixated on the texture of the couch in the space between them. He wonders if Hob will chastise him for his deceit or simply tell him to leave, wonders if he will demand punishment or repayment.

One hand laces their fingers together, as the other gently cups Dream’s cheek. Hob does not try to tilt Dream’s face or make him meet his eyes. He just holds him.

“I happen to like ‘you’ very much, actually.”

Hob’s voice is soft as a breath, quiet despite the devastation and sorrow painting each word. Dream closes his eyes as Hob leans forward to brush their foreheads together.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he states firmly, confidently, “You’re not perfect, I know that, the same way you know that I’m not either. But there’s nothing wrong with you.”

The conviction in his voice gives Dream just enough courage to open his eyes. Hob’s eyes are filled with tears and shining with so much love it takes Dream’s breath away. When their eyes meet, Hob gives him a sad smile and brushes his thumb along his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry. For ever making you think you needed to explain away parts of yourself,” He brings Dream’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his trembling knuckles, “I don’t love you in spite of anything. I just love you.”

Dream wants to argue. He wants to give every example from his long, long life that he is wrong, that Dream is defective and unworthy and unlovable.

But when Hob kisses him, whispers “I love you” against his lips, he finds himself… hoping. That maybe Hob is right. That maybe this is another bet he would lose to the strength that is Hob Gadling’s love.

Later, after Hob has held him long enough that he does not feel like he may fall apart, he will give his arguments. Later he will state his case and Hob will not hesitate in debating right back, punctuating his points with soft kisses and fond smiles. And it will not fix everything right away, as much as they both wish it would. But it will feel like a start, like adding support beams to a faulty foundation, like strengthening the parts of Dream that always felt a breeze away from buckling.

But for now, Hob holds him tight and whispers against his hair, “You want to hear a secret?”

When Dream hums questioningly against his neck, he presses a kiss to his temple, “Death isn’t perfect either.”

Dream lets out a barking laugh, and then another, and another, and then he is sobbing and holding Hob like he is the only thing keeping him together because he is, and maybe this outburst is just another flaw of his.

Regardless. Hob still holds him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month later, Hob and Dream invite Death over for drinks. Three very different people sit in hob’s living room, and they drink wine, and laugh, and Hob occasionally scolds Death when he feels Dream stiffen at some of her teasing.

Before she leaves, Death pulls Dream into a hug, patting his back even as he stands stiffly in the circle of her arms, “I was right. Sickeningly adorable, both of you.”

Dream huffs, but feels no real offense or embarrassment at her words. It is still hard to trust that this is real, sometimes. But all night he had searched Hob’s eyes, and even when Death made him laugh or understood some human reference, he still turned to look at Dream with love and joy.

As hard as it is to believe, the truth is that Hob sat with both of them, and when he grew tired he asked Death to leave.

But he asked Dream to stay.

[madewithangst]

Guilty as sin? [SVT Dino x Reader]

Welcome to the first part of the TTPD x SVT series! Introducing you to our adorable maknae, who has been the biggest inspiration for me to create and finish a story this week. This song is dedicated to all the dreamers, the fangirls, and those seeking to be treated right. Enjoy!

PAIRING: idol!chan x gn!reader GENRE: angst (too much delusional) WARNINGS: mentions of food and drinks, suggestive, reader has a boyfriend, a few curse words WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Series Masterlist | Next

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞"

It wasn't supposed to end like this. This journey was supposed to be a brief interlude in the grand scheme of things. Yet, here you are. In this reality. In this present.

You were running late that day.

Well, at least that's how you look at it. You prided yourself on never making anyone wait—a firm believer that punctuality was a virtue you held dear, never wanting to inconvenience others. Everything you needed was already prepared and waiting by the door. As you waited for your ride, you have your best friend on the phone.

"And then how's the boyfriend?"

"He's great."

"You're still seeing him," he remarked, more to himself than to you. You found it unusual to hear his tone lacking the usual enthusiasm as you were more accustomed to his cheerful demeanour.

"It's not that easy, Cheol."

"Fine, we'll talk when you get here. By the way, I know you're not good with strangers, but is it alright if I ask one of my members to pick you up instead? I'm out of the way, and he'll pass by your apartment on the way. It's alright if you don't want to, though."

Do I have a choice? you wanted to retort, but you knew Seungcheol too well. He was the kind of person who wouldn't even let you open the door for yourself; he was just that thoughtful.

"Is he nice?"

"Very much, unlike that dick you're dating. He's the baby in our group!" You ignored his not so subtle insult he just threw about your boyfriend. You sense a hint of pride visible in his voice. So you tried to tease lightly to lighten the mood, "So, a superstar's gonna drive me?"

"Hey, why don't you say that when I'm the one driving you?"

"Fine. I trust your judgment. Just, tell him I'm super awkward, alright?"

"Don't worry. He's pretty good with people. I'll tell him not to be weird."

"𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱"

"Hi, I'm Lee Chan!"

You went to step out on the porch a full 30 minutes earlier than planned, determined not to keep your ride waiting. The early morning air was crisp, and the faint glow of dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky. Just as you took the first step down the porch stairs, a car pulled into your driveway, surprising you.

You quickly gathered all your things. Lee Chan greeted you with a friendly smile, and you returned the gesture with a bow before carefully getting into the passenger seat. "Good morning, hi! I'm so sorry. I really hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not really, it's fine. I'm going to pass by your apartment anyway."

"Cheol insists and I couldn't say no," you explained, feeling immense gratitude for his understanding. His tone was light and easygoing, which calmed you a bit.

"Well, it's Cheollie. It's fine, really!" he laughed, clearly trying to ease any tension, which seemed to work. "It's okay if you want to stay silent, alright? I'll just turn on the radio. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, I don't. It's your car."

During the drive, the boy made light small talk, about the weather, your impression of South Korea so far, and how you and Seungcheol knew each other, "We go way back, like elementary school levels," you shared, smiling at the memories. "I appreciate how he hasn't forgotten his roots, even after all the achievements he's had." You also mentioned that you were a sound engineer.

His friendly demeanour and natural charm made the journey feel shorter than it was. You found yourself laughing at his jokes and stories, enjoying the unexpected company.

You had arrived at the studio without realizing it.

"Hey Chan, thank you so much for this. I owe you," you expressed your gratitude as you both got out of the car, very appreciative of his kindness.

"Don't mention it!" he replied with a smile, waving goodbye as you went your separate ways.

You met Seungcheol in the cafeteria to grab breakfast and catch up before proceeding with the recording. As you watched from the control room, you were overjoyed with all the gadgets and equipment, finding it a little funny and impressive how all thirteen boys managed to record so quickly, considering they only got 1-2 lines per song.

The atmosphere in the studio was lively, and you couldn't help but feel excited to be a part of it all.

The recording process stretched on for a week, followed by several more weeks for mastering. During this time, you had the opportunity to build a rapport with the staff, particularly with Jihoon, whose dedication and talent in producing the songs left you in awe each day.

You also had the chance to meet the other members, but your interactions were quite limited due to their celebrity status. They were always surrounded by tight security, even within the studio premises, unless Seungcheol came to check in on you. One time, while you were helping out the audio department, Seungcheol checked on you along with Chan.

"What are you even doing here? You don't even care about me," Jihoon playfully chided, nudging Chan away as he reached for the audio mixer's controls.

"It's because I'm not here for you, loser! I'm checking in on YN!" They were playfully pushing each other, almost like kids playing, which you were grateful for, or else they would've seen how red you turned.

Jihoon settled back into his big ass producer chair, a big grin on his face and you couldn't help but feel that he needed that short break; he had been working nonstop the whole day, glued to that chair. "What a friend you are, Chan."

"Hi Y/N! How are you?" Chan greeted warmly with his signature charm, his smile infectious.

"Chan, hey. I'm good. Actually just being amazed every day by Jihoon," you tried to express your admiration for his talent. The two boys joined in, showering Jihoon with compliments, and you could see the blush on his face, a clear sign of the love and appreciation he received from everyone. You thought he was humble.

As you and Chan caught up, you couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness and warmth in Chan's demeanor.

This led you to look at him in a way you knew you shouldn't, feeling a fleeting moment of attraction that left you momentarily conflicted, your thoughts briefly drifting to your boyfriend. Your mind wandered, 'When will my own boyfriend ask me how I am?'

Scoups announced they had to leave.

"Ji, take care of Y/N," they bid their goodbyes and exchanged hugs. Chan surprised you by pulling you into a hug as well. As you felt his embrace, you couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered after he left, a stark contrast to the fleeting thought of your boyfriend.

"𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧?"

When the mastering was completed, a company party was held to celebrate the accomplishments, but it was exclusive to all creatives responsible for the producing and mastering. You were fortunate enough to be friends with Seungcheol and had also won Jihoon's friendship along the process, so you received an invite.

At the party, you mingled with many of the creatives, expanding your network and soaking in the knowledge and experiences of seasoned professionals. You found yourself inspired by their stories and insights, feeling more motivated than ever to pursue your own career in the industry.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you had come since starting your journey. A beautiful warm feeling in your heart as you look at all the opportunities you had received and excited for what the future held.

The party had a semi-formal dress code, so you opted for smart slacks to ensure comfort throughout the evening.

As your social battery began to drain, you found a moment to sit down at a round table. A waiter promptly served your food, and shortly after, Chan approached and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

"No, go ahead, sit."

True to form, Chan's presence was comforting, and any hint of your earlier drained battery seemed to vanish as if Chan had electrified you with energy.

You both shared laughs, with Chan mostly cracking jokes and pointing out random people, sharing funny anecdotes about them. You found this particularly amusing as you had met and knew half of them from the mastering process.

"Have you tried their cocktail yet? It's so good!"

"Oh, and don't forget to apply Vaseline to your lips every night."

"Moisturizer! Every time I finish shaving."

He was just an ordinary guy, chatting with you about the most everyday things. That's what you liked about Chan—there was never a dull moment when he was around. You were starting to get used to his presence, finding comfort in his company.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan took seats in front of you. "Is this guy bothering you, Y/N?" Seungcheol asked jokingly.

"Why would you even say that?" the boy beside you just whined like a baby. You laughed and carried on with your conversation, enjoying the lively atmosphere of the party.

After a few drinks, the both of you were now eating pasta. Chan took a bite from your plate, and a piece fell on your thigh. "Shit, I'm sorry," he exclaimed.

You both burst into hysterical laughter at the randomness of the situation. Chan quickly took the piece off, whilst you're relieved that you were wearing pants. A faint stain was left, "Hey, it looks like a cursive 'M.'"

As Chan's finger traced the cursive "M" on your thigh, you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. His touch, so gentle yet electrifying, sent a shiver down your spine, and a warm sensation spread through your body. His smile was innocent, but the effect it had on you was intense. You were acutely aware of the world around you seemingly stopping, leaving just the two of you trapped in a bubble with his burning touch.

You locked eyes with Chan, and for a moment, you couldn't help but notice how close he was. His presence was comforting yet exhilarating, and you found yourself leaning slightly into his touch, wanting more but also hesitant to show it. You were lost in the moment, caught between the warmth of his touch and the realization that this was a line you shouldn't cross.

Eventually, the spell was broken as Soonyoung approached to whisk Chan away for another one of their antics. As Chan withdrew his hand, the spell seemed to break, and you became aware of the bustling party around you once again. You could feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement, and you quickly looked away to try to compose yourself.

He excused himself and as you watched them go, you couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a surreal moment, wondering what it all meant and where it might lead.

In front of you, you felt a burning gaze. "What?"

"Can I talk to you?" Seungcheol asked, his tone serious as he gestured towards an empty hallway.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 "𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞" 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝?"

"Chan, really? Of all the boys, you chose Chan?"

"What are you talking about?" You tried to keep your voice low, but you already had a feeling of where this conversation was going.

"You know, I wouldn't mind it because you're seeing a jerk and I want you to be happy. But Chan? It's Chan who you fell for?" Seungcheol's tone was a mix of confusion and concern.

"Can you please lower your voice? People might hear you!" Y/N whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure they weren't drawing attention.

"You—" Seungcheol paused, catching himself before saying something he might regret. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

When he finally regained his composure, he looked at you, silently urging you to continue. He's never given this look at you before so you just looked down in fear, "how did you know?"

"Uhm, the way you looked?" You met his gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Sorry, but it wasn't that subtle, just in case you don't know." You groaned, feeling like your secret was suddenly out in the open when it was supposed to be locked up in a tiny vault, never to be opened.

"Damn it. It was your fault!"

"Mine?!" As the ever-good leader of Seventeen group, Seungcheol was obviously taken aback by this accusation.

"You introduced him to me!" You tried pointing out, but even you weren't convinced by it. You just fell, and you fell hard.

"Oh my god, you've been crushing on him since that day?" The man in front of you looked so pale like a ghost.

"What's so bad about Chan? I get that I'm seeing someone right now, but it's not like something will blossom from this. I'm coming home in a few days anyway," you defended.

"I don't know. It's just weird. He's like a little brother," Seungcheol explained, trying to make sense of his feelings.

"I hate to break it to you, Cheol, but he's an adult and he's not your kid."

Their conversation was cut short when they heard the boys running down the hallway, their voices loud and boisterous.

"Cheollie!" Mingyu called out, followed by Soonyoung and Chan, their voices filled the empty hallway like a bunch of kids running around.

"See what I mean?" You actually found the situation funny, you got his look understanding exactly what he was referring to.

"Hey, is it alright if I bail early? I suddenly don't feel well," you asked, your expression turning slightly uneasy.

"I'll tell my driv--" Seungcheol was interrupted by Mingyu crashing into him and hiding behind his back.

"Cheollie, look at these two!" Mingyu exclaimed, attempting but failing to hide himself.

"I swear to god if you three don't behave yourselves! We're at a company event, not in a GOSE episode," Seungcheol scolded. You felt like he had been through so much that night already—dealing with you and Chan, and then managing the antics of the other boys too.

He then turned to you, "Just tell my driver to come back right after. This party doesn't seem like it's ending soon."

"Huh? You're leaving already, Y/N?" Chan asked disappointment was evident in his tone, but you didn't dwell on it too much.

"Yeah, I don't really drink much, so I got a little light-headed with the drinks we had."

"Oh, I didn't even feel a kick," he boasted.

"Of course, frat boy, it's you," Soonyoung teased him. You don't know why boys do that but they seem to always slap some shit out of their friends when they're all teasing.

"Oy! I'm not a drunk!"

"Yeah, right," Mingyu joined.

"Well, good night, everyone!" you bid your farewell and started to make your way back inside.

"Can I walk you, at least?" Chan offered, looking genuinely concerned.

You exchanged a glance with the eldest, "Oh, it's fine. I'm good. Thank you for the offer, though," you tried to sound politely as you can, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty about your decision.

"Alright, well have a good night, Y/N," Chan said warmly, bidding you goodbye as the others chimed in to greet too.

You turned to leave the party coming home with a pang of regret, wondering if you should have accepted Chan's offer after all.

Returning to your apartment, the weight of disappointment that usually accompanied your boyfriend's predictable good morning text was conspicuously absent. Instead, there was a curious sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

As you settled in, the memory of Chan lingered, his presence more vivid than ever. You couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that had enveloped you in his company, a stark contrast to the mundane routine of your current relationship.

The night replayed in your mind like a movie. You remembered the way Chan's eyes lit up when he talked about his passions, the genuine interest he showed in your own stories, and the way he made you feel seen and understood in a way your boyfriend never had. The laughter, the camaraderie, the easy banter with Chan—all of it felt more real and vibrant than anything you had experienced in a long time.

You remember the way his finger drew burns on your skin.

You couldn't help but compare the excitement and genuine connection you felt with Chan to the monotony and predictability of your relationship with your boyfriend. His single text message, a mere formality, now seemed like a stark reminder of what was lacking in your current situation.

Despite the late hour and the day's activities leaving you tired, sleep eluded you as you lay in bed, your thoughts consumed by Chan. You found yourself wondering about what could've been.

You hadn't returned to the studio since the party, as you weren't needed there anyway.

"Cheol, I'm coming home early," you decided, thinking it would be best to leave before your feelings grew unrequited.

"I thought you still had a few more days?" even through a phone call, his surprised voice is pretty evident.

"Yeah, I thought I'd start early, you know? Got a lot to prepare."

"Alright, well, this is so sudden. I planned on hanging out before you leave but, if that's what you want, sure. Do you already have your plane ticket?" he inquired.

"Yup. Find someone else to spoil, not me. You've already spoiled me enough with this part-time opportunity!" you joked. "I can't thank you enough."

"What can I say? I'm the best."

"You actually are," you admitted sincerely, feeling a warmth in your chest from the precious relationship you have with your best friend.

"Well, when will I see you again?" he asked, even if you haven't left yet, you can already hear the longing in his voice.

In school reunions?" you joke to try to lighten the mood.

"Ha-ha."

"I'm just a phone call away, Cheol," you reassured him, hoping to offer some comfort. The bond you shared was strong, and you knew that no matter the distance, your friendship would endure.

With that, you flew away from South Korea without looking back. However, your thoughts couldn't seem to leave that place.

"𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐞

𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧' 𝐮𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞"

"Hi, baby. Look, I know you must be upset, but please hear me out."

You stood at the airport, the cold, sterile surroundings matching the numbness in your heart.

It's now almost an hour.

Each minute stretching like an eternity, as you waited for your ride home. This situation was all too familiar, a painful routine of either waiting for him or picking him up.

"I'll just call you a taxi, alright? And then, I'm gonna treat you to a nice dinner. Sounds good?"

Dinner was indeed nice, except for the part where he brought his whole group of friends. As much as you wanted to catch up with your boyfriend, the whole time you just wanted to lie down in bed, too jet-lagged from all the traveling that day.

Physically, you were there, but mentally, you were still in the studio. You were still at that party. You were still with Chan.

You felt a hand on your thigh, a gesture meant to reassure, but it only served to highlight the growing distance between you. His touch felt foreign, a stark contrast to the intimacy it once held.

It felt like he was encroaching on your space. Despite the happiness of being home and the prospect of spending more time together, every interaction felt jarring, out of sync.

Each kiss felt like poison, leaving a bitter taste on your lips. Every hug seemed to suffocate, the embrace too tight, too restricting. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, but not the kind that thrilled. They felt cold, devoid of the warmth you once knew.

And with every climax, you found yourself calling out a different name in your head, a silent plea for something more, something real.

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲"

The day rushed past as the first music video from the album was completed. You had the exclusive opportunity to view it before its public release. Seungcheol even asked for your genuine review and your reaction was beyond words. Your involvement in its production gave you a unique perspective, witnessing the meticulous effort and creative genius behind every scene.

Seeing the boys perform with such passion and talent warmed your heart. Especially seeing him. As a member of the performance team, his dancing prowess was expected, but witnessing it live was awe-inspiring.

A tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a mix of pride and a deep yearning for Seungcheol's advice. While you could end your relationship now, it wasn't that simple. Your career was your priority, and you craved stability, something you doubted Chan could provide as a pop star. While you longed for adventure, what you truly needed was a sense of security and stability in your life.

You yearn for the way Chan makes you feel when you're with him. His presence is like a burst of energy, always leaving you electrified and invigorated. It's a stark contrast to the dynamics of what you actually have now in a relationship.

Seungcheol did mention Chan asking how you've been doing and all that. This made you realize that you needed to distance yourself. Choosing not to entertain thoughts of Chan any longer seemed like the only sensible solution. After all, as a pop star, entertaining others was part of his nature, and you didn't want to be just another audience member in his life, they were programmed to do just that, even for you.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. This journey was supposed to be a brief interlude in the grand scheme of things. Yet, here you are. In this reality. In this present.

But in another life, you would choose you and him religiously.

PSA: This is a work of pure fiction. Any names, events, times, or places mentioned are purely for entertainment and are entirely fictional (well, except for the names of the members).

© All copyrights for the title, lyrics, and concept of this work belong to Taylor Swift. The plot and dialogue of the story are entirely original and created by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work may result in legal action.

[pellaaearien]

Pell I would LOVE to see a perspective flip for Mieux Aimé of Dream working himself up to present Hob with that single beautiful undying rose

@arialerendeair you are both wonderful <3 The fact that you remember a one-off fic I wrote back in February means it's VALENTINES IN SEPTEMBER, Y'ALL!

Partie Deux

There are roses everywhere in the Dreaming.

It is Valentine's Day in the Waking world, as Dream reminds Lucienne, who keeps sending him ever more pointed looks. It is to be expected.

"Of course, my lord," she says, conciliatory. Allowing him his foibles. Valentine's Day, in its modern form, is a far more widespread observance than it had been before his imprisonment. It is as good an explanation as any.

Lucienne, of course, knows better.

"Is it the dreamers who are preoccupied?" she asks, finally, on the thirteenth of February in Waking time. "Or you?"

He has no answer for her.

Under normal circumstances, he would not allow even his loyal librarian to speak to him thus. But the circumstances are far from normal.

The Lord of Dreams is courting a human. A human who might reasonably expect his lover to mark occasions such as these.

(Christmas just past had been spent in the warmth of Hob's flat, with the sweet smell of baked goods and the soft glow of fairy lights adding to the ambiance of their lovemaking. It is a memory that shines brightly for Dream. Valentine's Day is, however, a far less ambiguously romantic holiday, and Dream is unsure of the protocol.)

"Have you spoken to him?" Lucienne presses further, finding, as always, the heart of the matter.

"We have. Spoken of it," Dream answers. It is the truth. Hob has told him about his plans for decorating the New Inn, "keeping it tasteful," as he says, "so those who aren't interested can still enjoy it."

He has given no indication as to whether he himself might be interested.

"Go to him," Lucienne urges. The days leading up to the fourteenth had in fact been inordinately busy, with stress dreams taking over a large portion of the subconscious. It has not done anything for Dream's mood.

"The work-" Dream begins.

"The work is well in hand," she says. "The dreams are well practised and have their assigned roles. I am certain there will be nothing so dire it requires your direct attention, my lord. Go. Even if he has no wish to celebrate, you cannot believe he will turn you away at the door?"

No, Hob will not turn him away, Dream knows. (The knowing was hard-won, and is yet a fragile, wondrous thing.) But Dream has been mindful that he must not impose upon such extraordinary hospitality. Must not presume upon Hob's affections.

Perhaps if he brought a gift...? Or would that be presuming yet further?

In the end, he selects a single bloom, a solitary rose that had dared to bloom upon the arm of his throne. He thinks, as he does so, of the rose he had so absentmindedly brought almost to the door of their 1589 meeting, before thinking better of it. Would aught have been different, if he had? He is not Destiny, and cannot know. This rose will have to suffice.

He cannot quite bring himself to manifest directly in Hob's flat as he usually might. For the first time, he seeks the dubious comfort of the threshold: to be ejected, he thinks, would be a far greater pain than to be turned away.

It takes several eternities, or five Waking minutes, to gather the courage to knock.

Once he has done so, he is no longer in control of events. The noise of the film from inside shuts off, and he hears Hob's plodding footsteps approaching the door. The heart he does not have is in his throat, obstructing the breath he does not need, as he waits for Hob to appear. For his fate to be decided.

Hob's expression, when the door finally opens, is confusion, which quickly morphs to surprise upon seeing Dream.

"Dearling, come in," he says, welcome given as unhesitatingly as ever. Dearling, sweeting, lykyng, culver. Endearments from the time when Hob was young. Such things he calls Dream. "I wasn't expecting..."

He fails to finish the sentence, but has brought Dream into his home. Dream ought to explain his presence.

"I had thought. This day. Is for lovers," he says at last. Lovers, at least, they surely are. Perhaps Dream might be forgiven, if he is mistaken.

Hob slips his hand around the one of Dream's that is holding the rose. Even if the bloom were a Waking bloom, and capable of harming him, it would not have the opportunity to, by virtue of how gently Hob is holding him. Hob's other hand slips into its favoured position at the nape of Dream's neck, and he feels the last of the tension he has been unknowingly carrying dissipate under the weight of sense memory, of all the wondrous times Hob has held him like this. Hob presses their foreheads together, and Dream takes unnecessary breaths of Hob's human scent; of age, old books, woodsmoke, sweat, and the strength of earth.

Dream should not find the smell of humanity comforting. But it soothes him more than anything he has ever known.

"Hey, sweetheart," Hob says, and Dream shivers, to know that he is welcome. Is wanted. Is loved. "I'm so glad you're here."

[shadowseductress]

I am, as the poets say, chaos

Varsha

Instagram: ethereal_dcrkness

Meet Varsha, an enigmatic INFJ girl whose heart finds harmony in the gentle glow of the moon. With each phase, she discovers new layers of her introspective soul. Lost in the labyrinth of literature, she wanders through worlds crafted by words, finding refuge in the pages of her favorite books.

Music is Varsha's constant companion, a symphony that resonates with the ebb and flow of her emotions. Yet, beneath her serene facade lies a hidden dagger of darkness - depression. In the depths of her despair, she seeks solace in the twisted comfort of dark humor, finding a glimmer of light amidst the shadows.

Writing becomes her sanctuary, a refuge where the turbulence of her emotions finds expression. In the quiet solitude of her thoughts, she pours out her heart, releasing pent-up feelings like ink flowing onto a blank canvas. Through her words, she finds release, catharsis, and perhaps, a glimpse of understanding in the chaos of her mind.

Welcome, this is a haven for all dreamers, stargazers, and those who dance to the rhythm of their own hearts.

Thank you <3

[hypnautic-cereal]

I’ve shared about my Welcome Home au on Discord and TikTok, but not here yet

So, I introduce to you: the Wish Maker au!💫

A Welcome Home au of mine that spawned from a meme I thought of one time while I was in the shower. Essentially the WH crew in this au are able to grant different kinds of wishes, and strive to make any and all wishes come true for a more better earth

(Please note that I did each of these art pieces separately, so all the canon sizes are the ones up on this first one⬆️)

First of all, we have our Wally variant: Wally Starling💫

Wally is the newest neighbor to land on Planet Home, as he was recently born from the stardust of a recently died supernova. Wally is gifted the power to grant star wishes as well as a high/moon jump, and aspires to be Judy’s as great of a wish maker as his friends

Up next: Our spectacular star, Sally Starlet⭐️

Glowing wherever she goes, Sally Starlet is the leader and protector of Planet Home. Legends as true as wishes have told that a portion of Sally’s power was distributed among each of her friends. Who knows what power she could behold at full capacity?

Next on our list: Our lovable dog Barnaby B. Beagle🎤

It might not seem like it at first, but Barnaby B. Beagle is a dog of many cultures. Barnaby grew a swift and tight friendship with Wally Starling, even being the one who gave Wally his name when he first arrived on Planet Home! Inspired by 90s family game shows as a sign of his love for fun and friendship, Barnaby grants the wishes from different cultures (such as tanabata tags, and grapes from under the table on the new years countdown)

Next up, our dynamic duo: 🎂Julie Joyful and Frank Frankly📚

Always excited to celebrate any occasion, Julie is your girl to call for a party. Her partying expertise is always to serve for others happiness. With help from Poppy Partridge and Sally Starlet, there’s no party on Planet Home that won’t be ready on time. Once the birthday candles are blown, a dash of confetti from Julie’s hand will have the wish granted in no time

Although they’re always in a rush, Frank Frankly is the brightest/smartest neighbor on the wishful Planet Home. Any questions the neighbors have about anything, Frank is able to answer in various ways. His specialty lies in granted wishes found in nature (such as dandelion puffs or the first winter snow), as well as proofreading wishes to the wisher’s intent. With provided help from Julie Joyful and Eddie Dear, there’s no task to tough for our beloved brainiac

And last up: 🌙Poppy Partridge, Eddie Dear💌, and Howdy Pillar🐛

Looking over the dreams of those down on Earth, Poppy Partridge acts as a guide to those who don’t know what their hearts desire. A scent of lavender and lilac follow wherever she goes, as a sea of stars speckle her pillowy soft tail feathers. Her and Sally Starlet happily work side by side, making sure all goes right from day to night

Folk tales from the old west tell the tale of a person who retrieves the wishes that haven’t been granted so that they can be granted as soon as they can. That there is our confident yet clumsy and forgetful dreamer, Eddie Dear. With his Lasso of Limitless Length and Star of Time, there’s no limit to when and where ungranted wishes will be granted. He takes his job with pride, especially if Frank Frankly is by his side

Ever need that little bit of push when playing the lottery? Or need a wish from that coin you tossed into the well? Well, our terribly generous Howdy Pillar’s got your back. He’d be more than happy to grant you luck and fortune for whatever you might need for the day. He does seem to fall asleep quite often, even with all the energy he needs for the day, so he carries his pillow Benjamin in case he’s ever tuckered out (get it? Cause money…$100…Benjamin Franklin-). So, what Howdy’s Place deal are you looking for today?

JESUS OK FINALLY FINISHED WRITING ALL THIS😭

But yeah, I have a lot to share with you guys about this au, and I hope you all enjoy and stick around for all the stuff I wanna share for it! I even have a whole playlist for this au (as well as a discord server but that was made for the fun of it and doesn’t have any actual functionality lol)

[accipio]

Hawke's father taught him early on that the Fade is not always a churning maelstrom of demons and hostile magic like in the tales. It's more dangerous than that. It often appears exactly as the dreamer expects it to be, a mirror held up to the waking world and warped by the mind that beholds it. An incautious mage may mistake this reflection for reality; lulled into complacence by the familiar, they never wake. Or rather, they do not wake as themselves.

Hawke has played this game many times, and he knows better than most the tricks that a mind can play on itself. When he awakens in his assigned quarters, the plain room exactly as it was when he fell asleep there hours before, he just knows. His surroundings look and feel as solidly real as ever, but there's a subtle skin-crawling offness to everything that washes over him like vertigo.

Never one to wait around and let the demons find him, he grabs his wooden staff from where he'd left it by the door and heads outside, not even bothering to change out of the threadbare trousers that serve as his nightclothes. Physical armor is useless here.

He doesn't have to wonder what awaits him on the other side of the threshold. He knows exactly what he's going to find. He steps forward onto weathered cobblestone, the same stone that was carved from sea-battered cliffs by Tevinter slaves over fifteen hundred years ago. Before him rise the twin white towers of the Gallows, impossibly tall, no less stark and pitiless than the empty black sky behind them.

The city of chains welcomes him back. He has been many things, here—fortune-seeker, troublemaker, protector, liberator, destroyer—but in his dreams he is a prisoner. He has never left, and he never will.

He walks on, not because he wants to, but because he knows that the only way out is forward. He expects to be accosted by the usual suspects: despair demons, his failures made manifest.

(Bethany, her body a mangled ruin, her lifeless stare a silent accusation. Mother, reaching for him with another woman's hands, lurching forward like a puppet on a string. Why didn't you protect me, son? Why didn't you protect me, brother?)

But they don't appear. The Gallows steps are deserted, the gates open and unguarded. There are no fires burning in the braziers, just as there are no stars above. Instead, everything is lit by a diffuse purple glow that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It renders the scenery curiously flat, shadowless. A fragment of some poem or other worms its way into his mind: No light, but rather darkness visible.

The back of his neck prickles with instinctive, animal dread as he steps through the gate and into the courtyard. It, too, is empty, save for a solitary figure standing in its center, rigid and unmoving like a soldier at attention. Waiting for him.

Hello, Knight-Captain.

The templar's silverite armor is more brilliant than it ever was in the waking world, its gleam undiminished by the lack of any natural light source. He is beautiful, perfect, a storybook knight made real, but no poet could ever dream up the frigid contempt with which he regards Hawke.

“You forget your place, mage,” the Knight-Captain says. Hawke stares at him, torn three ways between confusion, fear, and perverse fascination. “But I shall remind you of it.”

Hawke's gaze drifts to the oddly-shaped weapon in the templar's hand. He realizes with dawning horror that it is no weapon at all. It's the sunburst brand.

He scoffs, feigning nonchalance. “You lot really need to come up with some better material. That doesn't sound tempting at all. Your plan is to do what, exactly? Hold me down and brand me tranquil?”

The Knight-Captain (demon, he mentally corrects) appears unimpressed. “No,” it answers, the familiar voice stripped of all warmth, all humanity. “Only to give you what you want.”

Hawke's stomach lurches. No more talking. He calls upon his magic with ease, its flow unobstructed by whatever had dammed it back in the waking world. The demon, however, remains one step ahead of him. It raises its empty left hand, and a Silence slams down upon Hawke with the force of a physical blow. He staggers back, reeling from the nauseating sensation of emptiness, a limb suddenly severed.

Demons can't do that. Can they?

“Shit.” Maker, he's really in it now.

@absolutionem

[dreamglowrp]

🎀𓂃 。congratulations, dreamer ! your application has been accepted ! you have forty-eight hours to add admin celeste ! we look forward to having you ﹠ hope you enjoy your journey with us ! ♡

ㅤ⋆ wjsn’s lee luda

[violetdawn001]

What is with the Dreamers' Houses?!?! Part 3.25 Lurien's Spire - Windows and Colors

Welcome back to talking about the Dreamers' Houses! Today we're discussing more about the Watcher's Spire and what it tells us about Lurien's character.

Last time, we talked about Lurien's Telescope and what it spoke of Lurien's character. Yet there was something else I noticed with the placement of the Telescope itself.

It is on the Left Side of Lurien's office, facing the Left half of the City. While some might state that this is because of classism, I am not so sure. Not when I noticed this particular detail.

We have three bugs with unique designs with unique dialogue. From the dialogue, it seems that they took up the duty of the Watcher's mantle, placed there possibly by Lurien himself. Of all the sides of the Spire, these three are also facing the left side. What could be on that side of the City that Lurien went out of his way to leave his Telescope facing the left side and appointed watchers to guard that side? 

Oh.

Wait.

Taken from ntvv.vn.

The entire Soul Sanctum and the Soul Master is on the LEFT side of the City. The same group responsible for THIS carnage.

 Tragically, that is not even half of the people butchered by the Soul Master. If Lurien had an inkling, however, of the Soul Master's doings, then he would keep watch over that portion of the City in order that he can find evidence of the Soul Master's wrongdoings. Unfortunately, as we all know, Lurien ran out of time to prevent the full tragedy.

That did not, however, stop Lurien from doing everything he could to stop the Soul Master. He left the Telescope and appointed not one, but three mini watchers to keep an eye on the Soul Master. Who knows how many notes and networks he left behind to the mini watchers as well that we never got a chance to read. What we do know is that Lurien made sure that every tool and opportunity to protect his City was left at the Pale King's disposal. Lurien wasn't just protective, he took preventative action and was willing to include others to best protect his City.

Though that begs the question of how many back-up plans Lurien had to protect the City.

Moving on, I could dive into how Lurien is one of the few bugs to have a statue in the whole of Hallownest. I could also talk about the sheer size of his Spire or the fact that Lurien, confirmed to be mortal, has a stone lore tablet that so far only the Pale King has. But I will not as fellow Tumblr user Eggbuggo already talked about that.  Don't worry, I found the post so you don't have to scroll down to March 2nd, 2023 to find it.

https://www.tumblr.com/eggobuggo/710665789135634432/i-think-lots-of-people-tend-to-forget-how-much?source=share

Instead, I will talk about the color of the Spire, or colors.

The City of Tears is mainly divided into two colors: dark blue for the Left side (commoners + business) and red for the Right side (noble houses). The Watcher's Spire, however, has three colors: Blue, Red, AND Purple.

For comparison, here is a picture of the left side of the City of Tears.

Vs. the Right side of the City.

The Watcher's Spire, meanwhile, has three colors.

The floor is red, the pillars and elevators are blue while the wall is purple.

What does this color design say about Lurien the Watcher? For starters, the Watcher has not one assigned color to his Spire, but tastefully uses all three. Even a person from far away can see the beauty in how Lurien creates a contrast with these colors. Considering that each side of the City is predominately one color, this speaks volumes on how Lurien did not side solely which one side of the City.

For example, there is no red or purple glow in the left side of the City. Compare these two images.

Vs.

The lamps inside the Watcher's Spire produce this violet/pinkish glow whereas the lamps on the left side of the City only glow white. Same glass shape, but different light.

On the flip, or right side of the City, the nobles seem to hide any blue inside their home unless it is completely necessary, such as the elevator shafts. Compare:

&

Vs. Lurien using the red as the floor, but decorating with the blue pillars and window frames. The contrast here is used as framing, creating something beautiful even if it is just a hallway.

I believe the color choice for the Watcher's Spire speaks the exact same thing of Lurien's character as the Spire's placement in the City of Tears. Lurien was the mean between extremes for the City. Not only is the Spire in the middle of the City where everyone can reach it, but the use of purple in particular, a color created by mixing blue and red, shows both a claim of connection, yet also distant from the citizens of the City. This is important as purple isn't predominantly seen anywhere else in the City of Tears.

One last thing regarding color, Lurien is also the only one person to employ both blue and red sentries. Except for the one Great Husk Sentry and the Winged Sentry in the Resting Grounds, the blue and red sentries are never seen together. Given the sole location of both the blue and red sentries in the same is the Watcher’s Spire, it speaks to Lurien’s character that he was able to bring those two sentries together. Unfortunately, we do not know if the Watcher was able to pull it off due to his high position, geo, or his personal character, but the feat is still remarkable.

We have reached page 18 of Lurien's section, so I believe it would be best to cut off here for now. To recap: Lurien is proactive to protect his City, even though he would lay dreaming forever. We notice this in the placement of items and people by certain windows. We also learned how colors reflect Lurien's character as the mean in-between the two extremes of the two sides of the City, especially the use of the color purple which is a mix of blue and red. While this creates a distinction between the Watcher and the other citizens of the City, Lurien is still able to bring the people together as noted in the kinds of guards patrolling in his Spire.

If you wish to read more of the Essay, click one of these links below.

Part 1.0: Herrah's Den : Here

Part 2.0: Monomon's Archives: Here

Part 3.0: Lurien's Spire: Here

Part 3.25: More of Lurien's Spire (You are here.)

Part 3.5: Lurien's Spire: Pillows and Patriotism: Here

Part 3.75: Even, even More of Lurien's Spire

Link to essay on Ao3: Here

If you have thoughts you wish to share, please feel free to comment or reblog!

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 18

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena stood as Kara ushered Nia inside, seeming unaware of the vibrating hum of tension her two guests were sharing as they prepared to set the stage for what needed to come next.

‘Come on in Nia! Look who dropped round to surprise me.’

Nia did a clearly fake double take and then waved like Lena might not have spotted her from a few paces across the room.

‘Oh hey Lena, what a cool coincidence!’

Lena smiled indulgently at the over-enthusiastic play of their ‘happening’ to be here at the same time. Despite how many secrets this little group kept, hardly any of them seemed to be able to lie convincingly, and it made her wonder yet again how she had ever been taken in. Maybe she should offer to give them all a Luthor crash course.

Then again… maybe not. They might be on their way to being proper friends, but teaching them how to lie to her more effectively was just asking for trouble.

‘Hello Nia, I hope you don’t mind me crashing your time with Kara like this. I just heard the news about your new contracts and thought I’d bring round some champagne to celebrate – would you like a glass?’

‘Oh that’s such a shame. I would love some, but actually Kara was going to help me practise some dream power stuff, and it will work best if we’re sober. If you don’t mind hanging out for a bit we could have some after though? Maybe with another movie night? I had a lot of fun last time – and of course you’d be welcome to join in the dream journey too if you’d like to.’

To avoid unexpected snags they had rehearsed how this interaction should play out ahead of time, and Lena knew her part as well as Nia. It felt strange to be putting on this level of performance for Kara – uncomfortably like lying, but they had no choice, Project Atlantis was too important to risk to chance.

‘Thank you for the offer, but I prefer not to dwell too much in my dreams, they can go to places I’d rather not to revisit in my waking hours if I can help it. If it’s okay with you both I would like to stick around and see how it’s done though – I’ve been curious about it for a while, from a scientific perspective, and it would be nice to have another hang out session afterwards. Would that be alright with you Kara?’

‘Of course! More Lena time is always alright with me. Won’t you get bored while Nia and I are dreaming though?’

‘Not at all. I have an excellent book on the go, and my tablet if I decide to be really virtuous and answer some work emails. I’ll barely notice the time passing.’

It was as simple as that. Lena was in.

She sat back down on the couch while Kara and Nia settled cross legged onto large throw pillows on the floor. Nia talked a bit about what she knew about how the dream powers worked, and what she was expecting to happen once they got started. Then Nia and Kara held hands and closed their eyes, and after a few seconds they both went still, their breathing syncing up as they entered whatever dream space Nia had led them to.

Honestly, she had kind of been expecting it to look more magical. Maybe glowing lights, the way Dreamer’s powers could be made to manifest when she fought, or some kind of mystical aura, or hum. But from the outside all there was to see was her two friends. It was a little like watching people meditate. Or nap sitting up.

Lena did her best to do as she had said she would and answer some work emails, in between periodic checks to make sure Kara still looked well. But she found that whenever she glanced down to her inbox, her mind filled with the image of Kara in their last Q-wave trial – the slow trickle of blood shockingly vivid against her skin – and she would immediately look back up at her, scrutinising for the slightest sign of anything going wrong. In the end she gave up on even the pretense of doing anything else, and simply watched Kara.

It was not exactly a hardship.

She tried not to let herself stare too openly at her best friend these days, lest it complicate things further than they already were, but now she was free to take her in without worrying about being caught, or making her uncomfortable.

And Kara was, quite simply, lovely.

Somehow she always seemed to be brighter than other people, as if she was permanently limned in the sunlight that gave her her powers, even now she couldn’t access them. Even when she was ducking her head and fidgeting with her cardigan sleeves and acting as if she didn’t want to be seen. Lena saw her.

Kara’s breath hitched.

It was subtle – the slightest stutter-step taking her out of time with Nia, but Lena was instantly on edge. Her instinct was to wake Kara immediately, but she knew it was too soon. The slight change could even be a good thing – a sign that something big was happening, that Kara was remembering. There was no blood, and no indication that this was necessarily a bad-

Kara went rigid, her head thrown suddenly back and a gasp ripping out of her that sounded like it was tearing at her lungs as the colour drained from her face in an instant and left her a scary shade of grey-white. Lena was beside her in two seconds flat, pulling her hands free from Nia’s and taking them in her own. They felt clammy, and her fingers stayed bent into stiff claws even as her limbs began to jerk against whatever she was experiencing in her mind.

‘Kara. Kara, darling, wake up. Come on, come back now, it’s alright. You’re home Kara, you’re safe, just open your eyes love.’

Kara’s eyes snapped open. They met Lena’s but didn’t seem to see her as she continued to gasp and jolt. Behind her Lena was aware of Nia coming round too, heard her quiet ‘oh my god…’, but didn’t spare her so much as a glance as she pulled Kara in against her chest, still whispering reassurances to her as she stroked her hair and rocked her gently back and forth.

‘You’re alright Kara, it’s over, you’re safe now. You’re home Kara, and I’m here, I’m going to look after you, I promise darling. I’ve got you Kara.’

She barely even registered her own words as she went on and on in this vein, but the soothing tone of her voice did seem to be getting through to Kara, as at last the strangled, wrenching gasps eased to mere panicked hyperventilations, and Kara’s hands unclenched from their claw-like curl to instead wrap around Lena’s forearms, as if she needed to hang onto her to keep her from leaving, or else to reassure herself that she was real. Her grip was painfully tight, but Lena wouldn’t have dreamt of trying to loosen it. Kara needed to hold something right now, and Lena would be her something.

‘Kara, I’m… I’m sorry, I never meant-’

Nia stuttered, sounding completely stricken, and now that the absolute worst was past Lena broke off her murmurings just long enough to reassure her.

‘It’s not your fault Nia, you couldn’t have known that this would happen. You should go home now though. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her, I promise. Will you please call Alex and let her know what happened? Tell her I’ll call her when I can to let her know how Kara is, but it might be late. Can you do that for me Nia?’

Nia nodded. She looked in shock and like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay and try to help, or run out of there to escape what had just happened. She was clearly upset, but Lena didn’t have time to worry about her right now. Nia had said she would call Alex, and she trusted the elder Danvers sister to give her whatever reassurance she might need.

Right now Lena’s only concern was Kara.

After what seemed like a long time, Kara’s tense muscles relaxed from jerky stiffness into slack trembling, and her silent shock dissolved into sobs. At last she released her fierce grip on Lena’s arms and instead shifted to wrap one arm around her in a loose embrace, her face burrowing down against Lena’s bare shoulder while her tears flowed freely. Now she wasn’t so rigid, Lena pulled her up gently to sit in her lap where she could hold her properly. She took Kara’s free hand and pressed it to her chest, right over her heart.

‘Do you feel that Kara? Focus on my heart. Count the beats, and try to breath when I breath, alright?’

She took a few slow deliberate breaths, allowing Kara to feel the rhythmic rise and fall beneath her palm.

‘I’m here. This is real. And you are safe now.’

Without looking up, Kara nodded against Lena’s now-wet shoulder, and pressed her palm a little more firmly against her skin.

They breathed together until Kara’s sobs subsided, and she had stopped shaking.

‘Thank you.’

‘Of course darling. How are you feeling now?’

‘Better. I didn’t know it was going to be like that though. Poor Nia. What an awful power to have.’

‘I don’t think it’s always as bad as that… do you want to talk about what happened?’

Kara sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and Lena was sure she was going to say no, but she didn’t. She tucked herself more securely into Lena’s embrace, and started talking, her voice a little hoarse and with an odd hollowness that was not usually there, but steadier than could reasonably be expected after the intensity of her recent terror.

‘I actually really do. If I tell it then it’s just a story, it’s not as real.’

She stopped for a moment, gathering her words, and then plunged on like she was leaping off a cliff into an icy sea of memory, in the hopes of washing up on kinder shores.

‘To begin with it was a flying dream. That part was great – well, you can imagine. Nia said we should follow the source of the flying, and even though that doesn’t make any sense now I say it out loud, I knew what she meant, and I knew where to go. So we followed the source, and it led to this- wall I guess. But not like an ordinary wall – it was a huge black expanse that went on forever and didn’t seem to have a top, it just cut the world in two… I wanted to go back then, but Nia said we were close, and the source would be nearby, and I somehow knew she was right, so we kept following it and found this little hole. It was tiny, but Nia said that was the way to the source, and we should go through. I didn’t want to, but she thought it was important, so I tried.’

Kara broke off with a little shudder, but started up again before Lena had time to ask if she was alright, or if she needed a break.

‘The gap was so small I wasn’t even sure I could fit. I had to wriggle in on my belly, and I was scared I was going to get stuck, but by then I was too wedged in to back up properly even if I wanted to, so I thought if I just kept going I would get to the other side soon, and then I’d be wherever this source Nia kept talking about was, and I would have really helped her with her powers. Only it didn’t open up. I was just in this tiny tunnel that kept going for what seemed like miles, and it felt like it was getting tighter and tighter around me, like it didn’t want me in there and was trying to spit me back out, only I couldn’t get out because it was squeezing me so hard, and I couldn’t hear Nia anymore. I was completely alone.

And then... I wasn’t, and somehow that was so much worse. It was like I was back trapped in the car, only multiplied by about a million, and the Things trying to get to me were something so much more horrible than coyotes or wolves, they were… monsters, or demons, or something. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were just a breath away from me in the dark, and that they really, really wanted to hurt me. I tried to move forwards to get away from them, but then the pain started. It felt like my skin was being seared off my bones, and my blood was full of nails that tore my heart to shreds with every pump, and I wanted to scream but my lungs were on fire and breathing hurt too much. I couldn’t move backwards or forwards anymore, I was just stuck there feeling all of it, forever. I was so, so alone, and everyone I loved was dead or dying and I couldn’t help them. And... you hated me Lena. I knew, somehow I knew that you hated me.’

Kara started crying again, but it was different this time. Less painful, tearing anguish and more cathartic, like she was washing out the lingering remains of her ordeal to leave a clean wound that could begin to heal.

Lena closed her eyes against the tears that welled there, refusing to let them fall when Kara so badly needed her to be strong. She buried her face into the golden waves of Kara’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head instead, pouring all of the things she could not voice into the gesture before giving a more moderated response.

‘I don’t hate you Kara, I- nothing could be further from the truth. It sounds unimaginably horrific, but I promise you none of that was real. Everyone is safe. Alex is safe, and Nia and James, Winn, Kelly, Brainy, J’onn, Sam, Ruby, Eliza: no one you love is in any danger. You’re not in any danger. It’s all over, and you’re safe, alright?’

Kara sniffled and wiped her eyes.

‘I’m just so tired now. I feel like I’ve been fighting a battle for a year without stopping. I am so tired. But I don’t think I dare go to sleep, in case I go back there.’

‘How about if I stay with you? I’ll look after you, and if you show any signs of bad dreams – even just a murmur or a change in your breathing, I’ll wake you up, so you won’t be back there for more than a second.’

Kara hesitated.

‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘You’re not asking. And whatever happens I am not leaving you alone tonight. If you don’t want me to stay I’ll call Alex to come instead, but you need someone here with you.’

‘Well then… I’d rather it was you.’

Lena’s heart swelled at the quiet admission, and she gave Kara a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement.

‘Then I’ll stay... Do you happen to have some sweatpants and a t-shirt I could borrow though? It’s no problem if not, I can just stay in my clothes, but I didn’t exactly dress bed-time comfy tonight.’

To her surprise, Kara actually smiled then. It was just the barest tilt of lips, but it was unmistakably there, like a single ray of sunlight breaking through a mass of storm clouds, standing out all the more vividly for the darkness that had preceded it.

‘Yes. I actually have the perfect pajamas for you.’

The ‘perfect pajamas’, it turned out, consisted of a pair of pink pants patterned all over with paler pink and white blobs; and a soft white t-shirt with a matching pink trim and a printed image of two large anthropomorphised cartoon marshmallows, wearing sleepy smiles and holding stick-drawing hands beneath the words ‘you make me feel squishy’ in sugar-pink bubble writing.

Lena raised an eyebrow, and Kara flashed her an impish (if still slightly watery) grin in return.

‘Because you’re a marshmallow.’

‘Hmm.’

The pajamas were simultaneously so very much not Lena, and yet also kind of appropriate. Because Lena Luthor was absolutely not a marshmallow... Except when it came to Kara, maybe she kind of was.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious as she emerged from the bathroom, makeup free and dressed in the sugary sweet outfit. She knew she looked silly, and childish in a way she rarely had even as an actual child (Lilian Luthor did not go in for cute when it came to choosing clothes for her offspring, and the only time Lena could ever remember wearing something with a cartoon print on it was the time in elementary school when Angela Howard had spilled chocolate milk over her at lunch and she had had to borrow a Tweety Pie t-shirt from the lost and found until the au pair had arrived with a fresh shirt), and as much as that shouldn’t matter right now, she instinctively crossed her arms over the picture on her chest as she stepped into the bedroom.

She was considering searching out a sweatshirt to at least cover up the top half, when Kara looked up from her comforter cocoon, took in Lena’s appearance, and let out a breath that seemed to carry half the weight of her nightmare away with it. Her tense shoulders lowered, the pinch between her brows smoothed, and she smiled with her eyes, the haunted look that had been lingering in them since the moment she resurfaced receding until it was almost eclipsed by something that Lena didn’t quite dare to name, but that made her cheeks warm until she was pretty sure they matched her pants.

‘You’re adorable.’

She cleared her throat and put her hands on her hips in unconscious imitation of Supergirl, realising a moment too late that she was no longer hiding the marshmallow print, and also that it didn’t matter.

‘I’ll have you know many people find me very intimidating.’

Kara ‘hmmm-ed’, her nose crinkling with feigned scepticism, and Lena let her arms drop to her sides, the last of her discomfort fading into insignificance under the influence of that sweet little scrunch.

Maybe she didn’t mind being adorable for Kara, after all.

She got into bed, having to edge up close to get any share at all of the blankets Kara had bundled herself up in, though she couldn’t say she minded that either. In other circumstances it might have felt dangerous to be here like this, in bed beside the woman she had been crushing on (and lusting over) practically since they’d met, who she absolutely could not cross that boundary with, but it didn’t. This wasn’t about that. It was about being here for her best friend after something awful had happened, and creating a safe space for her to sleep without fear. To that end they left the bedside lamp on in the hope that being able to see her surroundings would help keep Kara grounded; Lena made sure that water, tissues, and emergency post-panic chocolate supplies were all in easy reach (just in case); and then, after the slightest hesitation, she held out her arms in silent invitation.

She half expected Kara to shy away from the offer, despite the fact that she had spent most of the evening in Lena’s lap with her face burrowed into to the bare skin of her shoulder, but instead she snuggled into the embrace without so much as a flicker of her usual reserve. Apparently her ordeal had left her too wrung out to worry about whatever it was that normally made her hold back, and they slotted together as naturally and comfortably as if they did this every night.

After a few moments of quiet cuddling, Kara whispered into Lena’s neck:

‘Will you tell me something?’

‘Of course darling, what do you want to know?’

‘Just... anything. Tell me about what you’re doing at work at the moment. Something science-y that won’t leave room in my brain for anything else. I just want to hear your voice while I fall asleep.’

‘Alright. Well, I’ve been tinkering a bit with using ternary tetradymite films to optimise electron mobility in some of our spintronic devices this week – I could tell you about that if you like?’

‘Please.’

So Lena talked all about electron mobility and spintronics, going into more detail than she probably should have to explain her as yet unpublished process to create a flawless crystalline structure in the ternary tetradymite films, and then when Kara didn’t ask her to stop, moved on to describe the wearable thermoelectric devices she had started work on using the same technology, which would, with a little more work, efficiently convert waste body heat into electricity to power the wearer’s devices.

She made sure to keep her voice low and soothing as she stroked Kara’s back and let the words carry her away, until at last her breathing became slow and even, and the subtle change in her weight against Lena’s side let her know that she had fallen asleep.

Lena stayed like that for another few minutes, just holding Kara and stroking her back, until she was sure that she was both deeply asleep and not currently in the midst of any upsetting dreams. Then she eased herself up to a sitting position and reached for her phone.

It was almost 2am by this point, but she didn’t think Alex would mind.

Lena: Are you awake?

Alex: Of course I am. Call me.

Lena: I can’t, I’m still at Kara’s

Lena: she’s asleep but I promised I wouldn’t leave her alone in case she has nightmares. So I’m texting you.

Lena: I need to tell you what happened but I can’t Lulu code it so you need to delete these texts once you’ve read them

Alex: ok. Is Kara alright???

Lena: Physically she’s fine. Emotionally though...

Lena: It was BAD Alex.

Lena: I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that. I have bruises from where she was clinging onto me just to try and ground herself in reality, and even then it was at least half an hour after she came out before she started to look like she really believed this world was the real one

Alex: Fuck

Alex: How is she now?

Lena: She seems calm now. By the time we came to bed she was acting more like herself, just exhausted. She might have some trauma to work through before she’s really ok though

Alex: Thank you for being there for her tonight

Alex: And thank god you suggested one of us should join the dream sessions. I’m not sure if Nia could have coped with that by herself

Lena: Did you speak to her? is she alright? I was so focused on Kara I just sent her home and told her to call you

Alex: Yeah, she called. She feels awful for what happened. I told her it wasn’t her fault and we talked for a bit, but the poor girl is still seriously shaken.

Lena: I’m not surprised, it was pretty intense. I’ll have to check in on her in the morning.

Alex: Speaking of which, are YOU ok?

Lena: I’m fine, mostly just worried about Kara

Alex: Are you sure? You said you have bruises???

Alex: Do you think it was a returning powers doesn’t-know-her-own-strength situation? Because that would at least mean something good came out of it.

Lena: I think it was a regular human strength abject terror disconnect from her surroundings situation.

Lena: Which is lucky because if she had had superstrength at that moment I would currently be in hospital getting titanium rods fitted to replace the bones I would no longer have in my forearms.

Alex: ouch

Alex: so the dream work was a total failure then

Lena: Maybe not entirely. Did Nia tell you what happened while they were in there?

Alex: as much as she could. She said once Kara went into the wall it was like she lost control – she couldn’t sense her anymore, and Kara didn’t seem to be able to hear her when she called. She tried to follow but the dream wouldn’t let her.

Lena: Kara told me what happened after that. And I understand now what the barrier Lex built is made of.

Alex: Wait you do?! Tell me!!!

Lena: it isn’t something artificial we can just remove to let the two sides come back together. If we break the barrier, we’re breaking part of Kara’s mind.

Lena: that’s why the Q-waves gave her a nose bleed, I think

Lena: and it’s why Kara’s own mind is fighting so hard to keep away from it

Alex: WHAT IS IT???

Lena: It’s her fear.

Lena: Lex has taken all Kara’s Kryptonian memories, and walled them off behind every terror that Kara Zor El or Supergirl ever faced. So to get the rest of her memories back she would have to overcome all of them at once

Lena: The phantom zone. The loss of her planet. Every moment of pain from every time she was poisoned with kryptonite. Every time someone she loved died or was in danger, EVERYTHING. All at once.

Alex: That sick bastard.

Alex: Lena, Kara has faced so much fear.

Lena: I know

Alex: If she knew why she needed to she might be able to do it. But how can we ever expect her to go back in there if we can’t tell her why she has to?

Lena: We can’t

Lena: not without finding some way to protect her from it first

Lena: that much agony all in one go could break her mind permanently

Beside her in the bed Kara stirred, a tiny frown creasing her forehead.

Lena: I have to go, but we will work on this more at the next PA meeting.

Lena: Don’t forget to delete

Lena cleared the text chain quickly from her own phone, and then turned to pull Kara back into her arms, stroking her hair and murmuring ‘shhh darling, it’s alright, you’re safe’, until Kara relaxed back into more restful sleep.

She was tired and feeling a little shaky herself after what had happened, whatever she had just told Alex, but Lena didn’t let herself close her eyes. She stayed awake beside Kara as the hours ticked slowly by, watching for any sign of distress and soothing her back out of it whenever she seemed to be edging into nightmares, until at last the pale light of dawn began to filter in through Kara’s thin bedroom curtains, and they had officially made it through the night.

[pleasanttaleswithkaityb]

Welcome to Summer in Pleasantview! 🌞

As the sun scorches the town and whispers of intrigue swirl through the humid air, Pleasantview's residents brace themselves for a summer of sizzling drama. From steamy romances to secrets that threaten to bubble over, each household is teetering on the brink of a summer to remember. Household summaries below the cut and summer plans!

The Langerak Household

Kaylynn Langerak's secret pregnancy (with twins! Or is it?) by Daniel Pleasant has left her basking in a glow that’s half maternal joy, half scandalous secret. Will the truth come out at the neighborhood BBQ, or will Kaylynn’s growing belly be the summer’s most talked-about mystery?

The Lothario Household

Cassandra Goth, cloaked in a fog of sorrow and haunted by her personal loss, watches her husband, Don, drift further away as he spends long nights at the hospital. Or is he? With Don’s love child, Ezra, and their ongoing marriage charade, Cassandra is desperate to keep it all together. But will a summer storm blow apart her fragile world?

The Goth Household

As Mortimer and Dina rekindle their romance, young Alexander's quest to uncover the truth about Bella’s disappearance intensifies. Little Ezra, under the mischievous tutelage of “Uncle” Don, adds to the household’s chaos. Can Mortimer’s heart find solace, or will the shadows of the past cast a dark cloud over their summer love?

The Caliente Household

Nina Caliente, wrapped in the warmth of motherhood, can’t shake the chill of guilt over her firstborn, Axel. As Malcolm dreams of city life and a settled future, will Nina embrace this new chapter, or will her past catch up with her under the blazing summer sun?

The Broke Household

Brandi Broke’s romance with Peter has blossomed, but with Dustin saving to move out and raise his daughter, Sienna, reality threatens to bite. Can Brandi navigate the treacherous waters of teenage angst with Beau and the boundless energy of Skip Jr., or will summer's heat expose cracks in the Broke family’s foundation?

The Dreamer Household

Darren Dreamer finds unexpected joy in his grandchildren, sparking new artistic inspiration. But Dirk’s college dreams are now tangled with his new parental responsibilities. Will the Dreamers paint a masterpiece of their future, or will financial woes and shattered plans mar their summer canvas?

The Pleasant Household

Mary-Sue Pleasant ponders adding another baby to the family, blissfully unaware of Kaylynn’s secret pregnancy. As Daniel juggles deceit and double lives, will his web of lies unravel in the summer heat, leaving the Pleasant household in shambles?

The Pleasant Twins Household

Angela and Lilith Pleasant have parted ways, each embarking on their own journey. Angela heads to Sol Del Valley with Sienna, while Lilith navigates single motherhood. Will distance sever the bond between best friends Sienna and Orion, or will summer bring them back together? And can Lilith stand strong without Angela's support?

The Burb Household

John and Jennifer Burb’s picture-perfect life faces real-world challenges as bills mount and dreams of higher education clash with family obligations. Will Lucy find summer love at the boardwalk, or will the winds of change blow her heart in unexpected directions? And can Kody complete his ultimate summer bucket list?

The Ramirez Household

Lisa Ramirez, back from the brink of death twice, clings to her family as Checo stands firm beside her. Tessa’s bold confidence faces its first real test, while middle-child Gloria feels adrift. Will Gloria find her place this summer, or will her search for friendship leave her out in the cold?

My Simself Household

Kaity and Nick’s idyllic farm life is put to the test as they open their home to Axel Caliente. Will the tranquility of the countryside heal his wounds, or will the chaos of farm life prove too much? And with dreams of expanding their family, will Kaity and Nick find the balance they seek?

Summer Hiatus

I wanted to come back finish and at least finish off the Ramirez rotation. Knowing I was sooo close to completing the spring season was enough to help me finish. It seems like the perfect place to pause and let things be.

I don’t want to go too much into my thought process as it’s somehow a bit personal- considering all of my feelings are connected to childhood. But what I will say is I want to be able to move on from the sims franchise. It’s hard. There’s a deep emotional connection that I have to the game that creates a really unhealthy cycle and EA keeps profiting off of that and they don’t deserve my money. I want so badly to pretend that isn’t the case. I want to defend and say I’m having fun. But the reality is: dealing with a buggy game, crashing, lacking basic gameplay mechanics is not fun. The sims franchise to me- is but a shell of what it used to be.

I’m at a bit of a cross roads with what I want to do. For now- with Life By You dropping around the corner. I think it’s best I let the ink dry in the Pleasantview saga. That said- if one of the household stories has inspired you and you’d like to continue the narrative please feel free to continue it and give me a tag so I can read along! 🫶🏻 UPDATE: 05/20/24 at 6:13 PM (CST) Well, I've heard the news the LBY has yet again been delayed... T.T So- I'll likely keep sharing the stories and updating- but also, I may not be consistent. We'll see what happens here. But huge bummer.

I do want to say thank you to all the lovely neighbors. There are so many of you who have been so supportive and encouraging on my blog, and it’s just been so fun having a community to share my pixel dolls with! 🥰

[probablyfunrpgideas]

Idea

Between the Dancer's Court and the vast plaza of the Great Bazaar, visitors to Sigil can find a truly unique neighborhood. The ground floors along the street are lined with workshops and storefronts, each with several blue or white glass tubes running through it and feeding into a complex network. Currents of lightning and plasma crackle along these glowing conduits, providing light and power to odd devices or experimental fondue vendors. This system is only a few blocks from end to end - it's as far as the generator can reach, for now. But the director of the project, a djinn artificer named Nicoletta Volt, promises it will revolutionize life in Sigil. "Imagine if the hammers and bellows in the Foundry could move on their own, or if the dark alleys of the Hive were safe from pickpockets and thugs. You can own a part of our city's future!" Plenty of dreamers have invested in her company, and others with more knowledge than coin are moving here to find new applications for power that can be switched on like a faucet.

Welcome to Electric Avenue! Watch out for flying sparks, escaped automata, and corporate espionage from the Planar Trade Consortium. The ogre merchant Estavan has been trying to find out how the generator works, or at least sabotage it, so he can undercut the share price.