#I'm finally in a place where i can appreciate these small joys again

[lettersiarrange]

Recently I've been feeling like the seasons are slipping through my fingers.

Back when I was really struggling with my mental health, I tried to get intentional about celebrating change, the seasons, festive traditions, small moments of joy. But it all felt so hollow. I'd sit underneath a ruby red tree and listen to the wind rustle the autumn leaves and think I should be enjoying this. I'd bake Christmas cookies and tell myself this should make me happy. But it always just felt like going through the motions. Useless and performative.

And then I got diagnosed and medicated and cherry blossoms were a revalation. The warm sunshine of summer was a wonder. The barren winter stillness was poetry. Isn't it incredible how the world is constantly changing around us? And yet it repeats itself so we have the opportunity to experience it again.

But I didn't bake any Christmas cookies this year. I only saw the fall leaves in passing. I may have marveled at the beauty of a pink sunset kissing untouched fields of snow, but I never took the time to feel the cold air in my lungs and sit with the quiet of the twilight.

Is this what being an adult is like? Racing from one month to the next? Wanting and intending to cherish every mundane magical moment--just right after this-- only to look up and find they've passed you by?

I know I can still bake Christmas cookies in February. But it's not quite the same, is it?

[shirefantasies]

Hello friend ! 🤍 I see your requests are temporarily open and I hope that is still the case. Your writing is so cute and wholesome and I rly enjoy it 😊

I am not sure if you have me on your taglist- If not, could you tag my tolkien blog @wordbunch so that I don't miss anything!

Could I ask either for hobbits with elf crush (yes we have human crush but what about elf crush!), or how the members of the fellowship (the ones that were there for the final battle against sauron, when aragorn made the famous speech lol) - how you support/motivate/comfort each other before that event

Sorry for the suuuuper big message 😇

Nah you're totally fine! I've gotten waaaaaay longer and more complicated asks 😂 I have @wordbunch on my taglist rn so I'll keep tagging you in all my posts 🥰 it's still crazy to me that the blog that I loved and was inspired to make this blog from IS ON MY TAGLIST WHATTTTTTTT insane. It's like I'm a musician and like Freddy Mercury or the Beatles or if you’re me Danny Elfman is following me lmaos nuts man. All that to say I so appreciate your support and here are some hobbits to start 😉

The Hobbits Falling For Elf!Reader

Frodo

His Elvish skills serve him greatly here; as if by instinct he greets you in your own language, bringing a smile to your lips. “Where did you learn the words of the Sindar?” “From my uncle, actually. Ever since his visit here years ago he has never forgotten your history and your hospitality.” Realization widens your eyes and parts your lips. “Your uncle is Bilbo Baggins?” “Yes,” the hobbit smiles and gives a little bow, “I am Frodo Baggins, Bilbo’s nephew.” Your hand clutches your heart and you look upon Frodo’s rising form with new exhilaration. “I was there when Bilbo and his company came. Quite a…well, a boisterous gathering, but your uncle was dear, curious and polite. A model guest indeed. It is an honor to know another member of your lovely family.” At that, you take your turn to give Frodo a small bow, one hand sweeping outward. The intensity of his eyes, the great joy and wonder, brings heat to your cheeks that matches the red tinting his.

Sam

Sam’s awe for the elves comes to his aid here for it gives him a bit of courage to talk to you, but also disguises his attraction to you as that wonder-filled curiosity. He tells himself-nay, all but commands himself- that curiosity it shall remain. You are very pretty after all, but what would an elf want with a- “Are you, then, the gardener I heard about from Frodo?” Half jumping out of his skin, Sam focuses again on your eyes, his own quite wide. “Oh, yes indeed! Indeed I am. What did he tell you about me?” “Only that you tend every growing thing with the utmost care, and if anyone knew a thing about the Shire-plants, it was you, Master Gamgee.” “Begging your pardon, but you can just call me Sam if it suits you.” “It does indeed, Sam. If I ask it of you, would you answer a few questions? Look at a few sketches? My task, no, my passion, is my book of botany, and I believe you would be a great help.” “You could use my help? Of course! Lead the way.” Standing up as straight and tall as he could, Sam remained at attention, grinning up at you. His smiled warmed you as you led him between the great trees of Lothlórien to your study.

Merry

“You’re an elf!” “Yes,” you giggle, “And you are a hobbit, are you not?” “That’s right, a hobbit of the Shire! …Are we really going to Rivendell?” Merry’s smile is infectious. “Yes,” you answer with a nod, “Your friend is safe there and so shall you be.” “Is it true what they say about it?” “That would depend.” “That it’s the most beautiful place in Middle Earth, positively glowing with magic?” The flutter of joy in your heart that always comes with thoughts of home returns in full warmth. “It is to me,” you answered, glancing back down into the hobbit’s dark blue eyes. “I think it will stay second to Hobbiton for me,” Merry confessed with a wide smile, “Although if you’re there, Rivendell may win out yet.”

Pippin

“You’re all very good at that, you know.” Turning on your heels, you see a hobbit standing leaned against a pillar on the far side of your practice area. Crossing it to retrieve your arrow from its embedment in your target, you watch your visitor with curious amusement. A smirk spreads across your face. “Archery? Far from it. My brother alone proves that.” “Not a good shot?” The hobbit replies. “Accidentally caught one of Lord Elrond’s banners once. Tore the whole thing down.” “I’d likely do the same,” the hobbit admits with a sheepish smile. “You know not until you take up a bow yourself. Come…” “Pippin.” “Pippin,” you smile, reaching a hand down to urge him forward by the shoulder and seeing Pippin smile at the contact, “Stand here.” Remaining there as he did, Pippin bobbed and bounced on his heels as you retrieved a child’s training bow. As soon as he accepted it you stood behind the hobbit, wrapping your arms over his and sliding his hands into the proper grip. “How is that?” “Excellent,” he said. “Good. Now, my dear Pippin, let us take a shot!”

Bilbo

Nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him upon entry to the Valley of Imladris. Not the cascading waterfalls or white columns, not the great libraries, no. You. Far taller than him and much fairer, you stun the hobbit like nothing else. How can he address you? What could he possibly find to discuss with someone in the council of Lord Elrond himself? …Literature. He can do that! As it turns out, his stroke of luck is greater than he might have anticipated: you are a writer, painstakingly translating old Quenya texts. “I-I’ve studied a fair bit of the Sindar’s language, but this? This is quite unfamiliar to me.” Scooting your chair closer, you smile down at the hobbit. “Here, allow me to show you.” Bilbo leans closer- he must, for you invite him to sit at your side and peer over your shoulder, eyes scanning between unfamiliar characters and your lovely profile.

Rosie

Her gut reaction becomes her voiced reaction: “I never thought I would see an elf in real life.” Sheepishness overtakes her as soon as the words leave her mouth, though. Chuckling gently, you admit this was quite a journey for you, too. Another initial reaction and joke from Rosie is that you’ve never tasted real ale, then- hobbits’ ale. You’re quickly being poured a glass. Over drinks she asks you questions, like what plants grow in your region and what your favorites are. What you eat, what you drink. All the questions you might expect from a hobbit, but with such a glowing, endearing smile the whole time.

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[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

[As usual I can't write about this show, so once again these are just thoughts, that I have been writing, leaving in my drafts, deleting a bit, writing some more, and so on. ]

Tis better to have loved and lost?

So, this cliché, of all things, is what's been on my mind since I finished LITBC. I hate this quote. It's not important why right now, I just do. But put it another way. Are things only good if they last? Is the joy, the love and the happiness somehow erased if it doesn't last forever? This is what has been swirling around my brain these past few days while I recover from the pain this show put me through.

Young was never the happiest guy. All through this series, and the novel, he has spoken of his loneliness and sadness. Which is why ultimately, he doesn't fight for Gyu-ho or even is surprised when things don't work out. I think, when looking backwards, is easy to embellish the past, to make it more than it was. To make it happier, crazier, sometimes more tragic even. But what I appreciate about this flashback, is how it all seems so normal. It's a snapshot, a moment outside of reality, because they're on holiday, but we get to see all sides. They fight, they make up. They get rained on, and they have sex. They are wet and uncomfortable but they are together. Like a small representation of their relationship as a whole. The first time we saw them in Bangkok, it was a blip. It was just happy.

And watching these moments,a part of me is sad. The happy ending lover is sad. The little whimpering voice that goes, but they loved each other so much, why can't they stay together???? 😭

And this is where rewatching the final two episodes after rereading the final part of the novel, kinda helped turn a corner and put a damper in my own suffering.

There's a feeling in those last seconds that is nowhere to be found in the novel. Hope. In the novel, he hasn't moved on. He's still stuck in the loss of the relationship with Gyu-ho. There's nothing in it that tell us that he'll be okay from now on. That he turned a page, and can now remember Gyu-ho with a smile. Instead he's still just sad, "crumbling away, little by little."

So, in that way, the show is definitely a less sad. Because like Young, I'm now able to see this relationship in a different way. As something precious that Young got to experience at least once in his life. He got the chance to open himself completely to another person, and be loved for who he was.

Of course the presence of the T-aras throughout contributes a lot to the lighter feeling of the series and specially these last moments. In the novel, he would stay in bed for days on end, and neglect his appearance and hygiene. But here we got to see the T-aras bursting into his place, forcing him to clean himself up and get out of the house. And the fact that he's closer to Eun Su, also made me feel like he's less alone, and maybe there's a deeper friendship there than I believed there was before. And perhaps he will trust him enough to tell him about Kylie. Or even the whole group.

I'm still undecided about the father subplot being added. I mean, since the author is the screenwriter, I'm not gonna say it's wrong, but I could've certainly gone without it. I just don't see what it actually added to the story besides just another person that Young couldn't count on. I already knew he was not present in his life, I didn't need to know he was an even worst human being.

I still wanna rewatch the whole thing to pay attention to the different parts, and the different ways in how they were shot, because I was too focused on all the feels to appreciate anything else.

[starillusion13]

FRIENDS!? Chapter 17

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Series ML

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere

Warning: mention of memories (nothing much just go with the flow).

W.C: 4k Network: @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

>.<

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the small town as a girl skipped along the sidewalk. your hairs bounced with every step, and your favorite pink dress fluttered in the summer breeze. you had just come from the park, where you had spent the morning reading your favorite book and collecting wildflowers. Clutched in your delicate hand was a daisy chain you had carefully crafted, each flower threaded together with love and care.

Your day was filled with joy. you stopped by the ice cream truck, exchanging a few coins for a scoop of strawberry ice cream that dripped down your fingers as you licked it happily. you watched as a butterfly flitted by, its wings a blur of color, and tried to follow it with your eyes until it disappeared into the sky.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself wandering towards your favorite place — Mrs. Kang's cafe. It was quiet now, with the lunch time to be over a few minutes earlier and your wanderings almost finished for the day and most of the students already on their way home. Curious and full of energy, you decided to explore a little. you spotted an open door that led to a staircase and, on a whim, began to climb. Up and up you went, your small feet pattering against the steps until you reached the top.

The door to the rooftop was slightly ajar, and with a gentle push, you stepped outside. The view took your breath away—the whole town spread out before you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The breeze was cooler up here, ruffling your hair and bringing the scent of fresh air.

But you weren't alone. As you wondered further into the rooftop, you noticed three boys sitting near the edge, their legs dangling over the side. They were deep in conversation, laughing and joking with each other, unaware of your presence at first.

you hesitated, clutching your hand bag tightly. you didn't want to disturb them, but you were also curious. Gathering your courage, you stepped closer, your small footsteps making soft sounds against the concrete. One of the boys, the one with messy brown hair that fell into his eyes, noticed you first. He nudged the others, and they all turned to look at you, surprise flickering across their faces.

"Hi," you said shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The boy with the bright smile was the first to respond. "Hey there," he greeted warmly, his eyes twinkling. "What brings you up here?"

"I was just exploring," you explained, holding up the bag. "I brought Mrs. Kang some cookies from my orphanage."

The boy with round glasses adjusted them slightly and smiled. "Then what are you doing here? She must not be at the rooftop, waiting for someone to show up with her orphanage cookies." It was evident that he was not liking your presence right there.

you nodded eagerly, your initial nervousness coming back. "It's just I couldn't find her downstairs. And, I thought maybe this is the place where I can get her."

The third boy, who had been watching you with a curious expression, finally spoke up. "That's cool. What's your name?"

"y/n," you replied, gaining a bit more confidence. "What are your names?" you asked hesitatingly, not sure if they are even willing to extend the conversation – let aside, giving away their names to someone on whom one has a distaste already. But the other two boys were having glows and charms on their face on meeting you.

The boys exchanged glances, then the one with the bright smile spoke again. "I'm Yeosang," he said, gesturing to himself. "This is San," he pointed to the boy with the glasses, "and that's Wooyoung," he finished, nodding toward the boy with the messy hair.

you repeated their names softly to yourself, then smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, y/n," Wooyoung said, returning her smile. "Do you come here often?"

you nodded your head. "yes, this is like my second home. It's really nice up here." You smile to yourself, "I like to spend my time here with her, sometimes before returning back home."

"you mean orphanage." San scoffed and you glanced at his attitude. He was rude for no reason. Whatever, the other two were too nice and it was okay to avoid the third one. You averted your eyes from him to the other two grinning ones.

"I have never seen you before," Yeosang said with a grin. "We come here after school sometimes to talk. Also, this is my aunt's shop." The surprise in your eyes was not missed by them and they chuckled at your adorable reaction.

"Do you want to sit with us?" Wooyoung offered, patting the space beside him.

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded. you carefully walked over and sat down next to them, your legs swinging freely above the ground. you placed your things on your other side, their smiles seems like a symbol of your newfound friendship.

As the evening breeze picked up, the three of you chatted and laughed, San was just sitting quietly in the distance and often glancing at you all. No one knows what was going on in his mind but one thing was sure that he was not liking your presence in their peaceful circle. you telling them about your day and the boys sharing stories of their own. The rooftop, usually a quiet retreat, was now filled with the sound of your voices and laughter.

When it was time for you to leave, you stood up, your heart full of happiness. "Can I come back tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. The next days were weekends and the orphanage gives you more time than other days to spend your days in a bit relaxing way. It's only possible because you are in middle school now.

"Of course," Wooyoung replied with a smile. "We'll be here." Yeosang nodded at his friend's words but the third was not having it for good. He scoffed, "we are supposed to meet them tomorrow."

"it's okay. We can go later." Yeosang told him and turned towards him, his lips automatically curling up to a sweet angelic smile.

Wooyoung clasped his hands in excitement, "we got a new friend. We gotta tell them too."

San rolled his eyes and stared at you when you exchanged some sweet words and smiles with them. He hated your entire existence at this point. There is no need for any more friends when they have each other --- a girl as a friend --- a big NO.

"So friends?" Wooyoung extended his hand towards you, a bright smile plastered on his face. You quickly held his hand, a comforting hold, an innocent promise was made, "friends." you said in your softest and friendly tone.

"forever?" Yeosang placed a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the same expression as yours. You nodded and smiled wider, "forever."

San stood up, getting a proper look of his outfit, he slid the bag over his shoulder. He glanced at you and then to his friends, "we should go back home. It's getting late."

"will you not be her friend?" Wooyoung asked him.

San poked his inner cheek with his tongue, "no. it's nonsense."

"but you are still my friend." You told him innocently.

He glared at you before turning his back at you, "whatever."

you waved goodbye and skipped toward the door, your spirit lifted by the unexpected encounter. As you made your way down the stairs, the warmth of the sunset still on your cheeks, you knew you had made three special friends that day—friends you couldn't wait to see again. Well, safe to say two.

The friendship started when you were thirteen years old. You were like an innocent flower blooming in between the two boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang. You all still laugh at your interaction with Wooyoung at the café after your first meeting with them at the rooftop. Two weeks later, you were returning from school, when you wanted to give a visit to the café but Mrs. Kang was not there so you were just standing in front of the glass display section with all the collections of display. The thing, you didn't notice that your presence was noticed by the three boys sitting and conversing in the corner of the place. The youngest one of them happily approached you but somehow, his different look with the different hairstyle was making him unrecognizable. He got the idea that you wanted to buy one from there and when you pointed to the choco red-velvet cupcake, he was more than happy to buy it for you. But weirdly, you ran too fast from there, before Yeosang could approach you two.

Surprisingly, the next day, you went to that same café and it was late afternoon. You knew they would be there because that was the time they usually return from their school. And, you were not alone, Mr. Kim was there along with you and he was buying you a few things for your upcoming birthday. Your orphanage celebrates every individual's birthday. And, you bought a special gift for Wooyoung, not missing the other two in mind.

You met the three boys in the streets, going towards the café and your innocent-self ran towards them with the paper bag in your hold, handing them their gifts and thanking Wooyoung for the treat.

It was really a pure and sweet friendship. A childhood friendship deepening and tightening with every passing day.

It's the last year of your middle school and your friendship with the guys was more than a year. Before the finals, you heard that they were going to change their schools and initially you were so heartbroken that your friends would be leaving the town but surprisingly they were happy for some reasons and you didn't know a single thing about their thoughts.

So in the last days of your last year of middle school, whenever you went to school, you avoided them after the departure. As usual they used to wait for you on the bench beside the cafe but you ran past them in a hurry.

"Hey, wait!" A young boy yelled and your feet immediately came to a halt. He was panting and sweats dripping down his forehead. When you saw his face, you felt him familiar. Not like you know each other, you have seen him. The ground beside your orphanage where he plays basketball with his friends, the other boys live in your neighborhood but you don't know where he lives. You don't mind them playing there, neither you were attracted to anyone or wanted to get along but you loved this particular boy, more specifically his smile.

It was a healing one, a comforting and sweet one. The gummy smile which was not visible on any other boy's face over there. And the same way he was smiling at you at the moment.

"You?" You asked him curiously, what to ask him more. Neither you know his name, about him or what's the person stopping you for. He was in a different school uniform than yours and upon realizing it's the same as Wooyoung.

He patted your shoulder and chuckled, "myself, Jongho. You are y/n, right?"

You nodded slowly, still confused with his approach. He even knows your name.

"Here, take this." He hands you over a paper bag. Without further thought, you grabbed it and looked at him again. "Woo and Yeo told me to give it to you. I suppose you are their friend whom they talk about a lot. Nice to meet you."

Ah! So he is their friend. Your guess was right somehow. As you are ignoring them because they might be leaving this town soon and you don't want to get attached to them anymore to feel lonely after their departure.

"What is this?" You asked him, he was smiling all the way at you. You didn't even know why he was still waiting there after giving you the bag, he nodded and chuckled at you.

"That's for you to find out." He tilted his head to the side and raised a brow, "I heard you are ignoring my friends for some reason but I hope this gift will help your day."

"Why?"

"Just go back home and find out."

Staring at each other for a while, you turned around but as you were about to cross the road, he asked you again.

"Do you want to come to watch my match?" He asked you hopefully, excitement in his eyes. When you looked at him, he spoke again, "today your finals ended so a bit of fun won't harm, right?"

Right. You so want to watch his smile. Like the way he is grinning at you now. You smiled back in return.

"So, you coming?"

"I guess the usual timing?" you asked.

He nodded and ran away. You chuckled and crossed the road. Your days are filled with joy and happiness.

The last thing you would expect to be met with a letter, a cupcake and a pretty dress inside the paper bag. After freshening up quickly, you glanced at the clock, you have enough time till his evening match and now you got on your bed, shuffling towards the headboard and leaned against it, to read what's the content of the letter.

'Hey! Are you mad at me? I'm so sorry to make you feel so low. Actually, it was supposed to be a surprise but after seeing you so down everyday and avoiding us made me realize that I should let you know this. I am definitely leaving my previous school but I'm not leaving the town, promise. Don't be mad at me. there's a surprise you will get on the first day of your high school so please wait for it and don't be sad.' --- your Woo.

Your gaze trailing down to the last line written below...

'The dress is from me --- Yeosang. I saw Wooyoung bought a cake for you and I didn't know what to give you but I hope you liked it.'

There's a cute little character drawn beside the writing.

Your smile grew wider and you laid on the bed, smiling and feeling excited with the gifts and also, they are not leaving you alone in this town.

You didn't know when you feel asleep on your bed, clutching the letter in your fist and the paper-bag lying on the floor beside the bed until Mrs. Stella came knocking at your door, groaning at the sound, you rubbed your eyes and glanced at the clock, it was already late for you. Fifteen minutes to go.

"Y/n baby." The lady's soft voice made your head turn towards the door when you jumped out from the blanket and ran towards it, to reveal her standing there all in an elegant dress as always. Her warm smile and welcoming gestures pulled you in a hug.

"Why did you lock your door? I got so scared."

You nodded your head in understanding and pulled apart to give her a smile, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. But I have to leave right now or I will be late."

"to watch the match?" she asked you softly before pulling apart, watching you pulling out a dress from the wardrobe and placing it on the bed, also setting the favorite pair of shoes at the side of the doorframe.

You smiled and nodded, "yes. He is probably my new friend."

"He will be your best-friend because you are such a sweet girl. I will pack some cookies for him." she said and sat on the chair when you went inside the washroom to change into your outfit. After coming back to the room, she helped you to tie your hair and left you alone in the room to pack the snacks.

It was a quick action and there you were standing at the main gate, your Mrs. Stella placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "you haven't introduced me to your other three friends and now this fourth one. Invite them over a picnic, I want to see those nice boys who befriended the sweet girl like you."

"I will. But later, now we should be just secret friends."

"why? Are you in love with one of them?" she wiggled her brows.

You whined loudly, stomping your feet, "what...nooooo. I just don't want them to know exactly where I live."

"It's okay. Be safe."

.

.

.

The playground is surrounded by protective fences so that intruders can't go inside whenever and from wherever they want and so they have to take either of the two entrance gates. The street by the side of the ground, where people often glancing at the boys screaming at each other just for the sake of the games. Their sweaty bodies and faint curses whenever they were losing points, especially everything was attractive in that zone.

Just like that, you were standing at Gate 1, where most of the people can enter to watch the matches and the security can keep track of the people entering the ground.

"y/n!"

The sudden voice made you look towards the direction from where a young boy ran towards you, all the way smiling and sweating. The corner of your lips lifted up and he stopped in front of you. His fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist and pulled you towards the benches where you could sit and there were already four boys sitting gossiping among them. You couldn't see their faces because they were facing their back towards you but their laugh echoed in your ears. Two voices were familiar.

"you kept your promise, y/n. thanks for coming." Jongho finally let your hand go when you were almost near the benches. You smiled and nodded your head, handing him the paper bag packed with cookies. "What's this?"

"a gift." You chuckled and added, "I am not one to turn down someone. You were expecting me so I had to come. Moreover, I love watching people enjoying their favorite thing."

"You love watching me?" he raised his brow.

Your palm pressed over your lips, laughing lightly, "no silly. I love watching you play basketball."

And again. His gummy smile shining brighter than the lights of the posts.

"y/n?"

Turning around quickly, you came face to face with the boy whom you missed all these days. Wooyoung stood up from the bench and ran towards you, engulfing you in a tight hug. To your surprise, he planted a kiss on top of your head and you didn't even complain about it, rather you closed your eyes and melted in his arms, feeling protected and loved.

"so, this was your surprise, Jongho?" Yeosang asked and folded his arms below his chest. Quickly smiling when he caught your eyes at him. The youngest nodded and caught the ball which was thrown by his other friend. Your gaze quickly fell on the new tall boy, he looked so squishy and soft and there was another tall boy whose arms were drooped over him with piercing eyes and they both were watching you keenly. They were curious and it was all visible on their features, neither of them was smiling but looked as if they had so many questions.

"Who is she?" asked the boy with round eyes, who removed the arm around him and glared at the other boy who was trying to tickle him. "never seen her before." The boy was wearing a white t-shirt like Jongho was wearing a black one unlike others who were in denim and stylish clothes.

Jongho stood beside you, smiling at them before sending you a comforting smile and you did the same to them, "she is our new friend. Her name is y/n." he turned towards you, "that's Yunho and the other one is Mingi."

y/n.

the name clicked inside their mind. You can't be the one they are thinking of. Right?

"you mean..."

Wooyoung laughed loudly, "yes, Yunho. she is our y/n."

"well..." now you finally started speaking, "nice to meet you two. Don't be awkward with me. I'm just your friend so let's settle down to watch the match."

"Yunho is also playing today." Mingi said and smiled when he watched you turn to his friend in surprise.

"you are our best-friend, y/n." Yeosang always corrects you with this word. You nodded and took a seat on the bench near you, the five boys were all following your movements as you brushed your dress and neatly placed the bag beside you and combed your ponytail with just fingers. You were like an angel under the post-light. None of their eyes were leaving your form. They were getting lured by you.

It's only because you were the pure, the only light in the darkness of their life.

They were drawn like a moth to a flame.

Your gaze stopped on them, "all the best Jongho and Yunho."

It would be a lie if your cheering voice didn't skip their heartbeat.

The two players gave exciting nods before running towards their field. The three left with you settled down around you, not speaking anything just watching you enjoying the match. You didn't know anything about basketball, just that the team has to score points by putting the ball into the net and preventing their opponents from interrupting them. That didn't matter the fact that you were enjoying watching your friends winning the game.

And, the real win was for three others who were just ignoring their two friends and watching your giggles, laughs, cheers, and excitedly standing up whenever one of them scored points. Once when you turned towards them, you caught them staring at you but you thought it was because you were jumping on your feet like a kid, "I so want to come here often."

"Then you can come here every Wednesday and Friday." Mingi answered you quickly.

You nodded and pressed your lips in a line, "I can't. the orphanage and Mr. Kim won't like me going out so much."

You didn't get anything in reply. The attention went back to the match.

But little did you know the three boys around you shared looks among them. Innocent? Sad? Sympathy? Worry?

Nah. It's far from that.

The hatred.

They hated the fact that you can't come anywhere anytime.

Even if you think they don't know you, they are just your new friends you made by chance. You are so wrong for that because you are just falling into every trap that they are laying for you and without doubting, you are following them with a smile on your face.

"How was the match?" Wooyoung poked your cheek from beside you.

"It's good. I didn't know I would enjoy it so much." you looked towards the two players coming towards you, "Congratulations for winning. But I have to go now or it will be late."

Yunho held your wrist, "can't you stay a little bit more?"

"I wish I could but I'm not allowed to stay longer." You smiled at the end of your reply.

Yunho just nodded in agreement and dabbed his face on the towel. You picked up the paperbag from the bench and extended your hand towards Jongho who came closer to you after wiping off the sweat from his face.

"Take this. I brought this as a friendly gesture for you and thought maybe one or two of your friends would be here but I guess it would be too less for all of you."

He chuckled and shook his head, "hey! Don't worry about that. It's enough that you brought a gift. Let's just be friends and we can treat ourselves to much more. And thank you so much for this."

"Yes. If only you all had been in my school, we could have hung out together every day." You folded your hands under your chest.

"We can." Yeosang brought your attention to him, "we will wait for you in front of the cafe and then we can spend time there. That's the best place for us because it's even closer to your place."

"You all will wait?" Your eyes lit up with surprise.

Mingi smiled at your cute face, "of course. After all we are friends, right?"

"We are best friends."

[the next two chapter are ready to post but i'm not feeling like to post right now please tomorrow i'll make sure to post it as the first thing in the morning.]

NEXT

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Taglist :

@mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @brrrkdslek-personal @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @luhwaine @ilove-taeyong @dinonuguaegi @endeav0rsb1tch @loveforred @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @sousydive @aliona124754 @tunaasan @iykyunho @jennifermakmur

(open! dm me/ send ask/reply here)

[okwritingandpain]

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Beatles x Reader

Chapter 1

Y/N sat in the coffee shop, sipping her mocha in peace. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard as she had to turn in her newest college paper that afternoon. Her airpods were in her ears playing the melodies and harmonies of the Beatles. It calmed her, listening to songs that seemed to give off such a feeling of joy. Being 19 and joyfully on the way to having an English degree, she thought of what fun it would be to write stories for the world. Her parents were supportive, which was all that mattered. She had played piano for as long as she could remember which sparked her newest story idea for her paper.

A Tale Of A Lone Pianist

It was perfect and she couldn't wait for everyone to read it. Taking another sip, many people zipped by her. The shop was busy, basically bursting at the seems with people. Sometimes she could basically feel the people staring at her computer screen. It annoyed her, but she continued her story.

"Watch where your walking, old man!" Someone snapped. Paying no mind, she felt something hit her foot. A phone.

"I'm sorry, luv. My phone got away from me." A man said, trying to hide his face with his hood.

"It's alright." She said, grabbing the phone off the ground. Her fingers grazed the button, turning it on. The lock screen was a picture of Paul McCartney. She smiled as she handed the phone to him.

"You a McCartney fan?" She asked, trying to get a better look at the man. He made a small laugh.

"You could say that." He smirked, putting the phone in his pocket. His clothes looked stained, as if he had spilled his coffee or something. Oh, wait...

"Can I buy you another coffee? You look like you lost yours." She giggled, as the man stiffened. He looked at his clothing.

"It's okay, you really don't have to." He murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I insist." She said, standing up. "All I ask is that you watch my stuff. What coffee do you want?" The man fumbled with his jacket, uncomfortablely.

"You trust me?" He asked, unsure. She nodded.

"I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt." She concluded. He seemed to relax and smile.

"I prefer tea actually." He said, quietly.

"No big deal, I'll get you what you want." Standing up she went to stand in line. Watching carefully the man sat down and just looked around a bit. He didn't even glance at her computer screen. After finally getting the tea, she walked back to him. Handing him the tea, she sat down across from him.

"Thank you." He said, gleefully. The hidden sunny smile shone at her.

"So, what is it you do?" She asked, striking a conversation. The man was shocked, but appreciative of the kindness of the girl.

"I'm a musician." He remarked. Interesting, but it made sense due to his lockscreen.

"That’s cool. I've played the piano since forever, but I never written my own song. It's so cool you could make a career out of it!" The girl cheered.

"An interesting one at that." He muttered, "What do you do?"

"English Major in college." She explained, "I like to write stories." He perked up at her with a genuine smile.

"I'm sure you are very good." He glistened, "I want to thank you for your hospitality. I was trying to fly under the radar a bit, but I guess if one person knew it wouldn't be a big deal. As long as you don't tell everyone here" She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Okay?" She questioned, unsure of what he meant. The man lifted his hood a little. His brown eyes glowed and shined in the light. His gray hair whipped in a wave. His childlike features smirked at her. She was talking to Paul McCartney.

Grasping a hand over her mouth, she bottled up her shock and excitement. Was it really him or was she hallucinating? Maybe she somehow overdosed on Beatles music or something...

"I know it's shocking." He muttered, placing his hood down again. "You seemed so nice, and trusting. I thought you would want to...I don't know...know me?" She blushed at his words. He was so kind.

"It's nice to meet you..." She trailed off. "Sir McCartney--"

"Please, call me Paul." He insisted with a smile. "What’s your name, luv?" He looked up expectantly.

A moment passed. "Y/N." She said, quietly. He gave her a dreamy look.

"A beautiful name...George always liked that one." He frowned for the first time since they met. Guilt rushed over her.

"Thank you...I'm sorry about George." She murmured. The smile returned, but felt a little forced.

"He's not suffering anymore." Paul whispered. She nodded as the world fell silent.

"Why are you talking to me?" She asked, attempting to change the subject.

"The world needs more people like you. I like to surround myself with the best of people." He sighed.

"I can understand that. It feels just yesterday--" She was cut-off.

"That’s it! I've been waiting forever for this chance, luv!" He croaked, standing up. She was shocked. He looked like a wild bore in his frantic outburst.

"What?" She asked, as Paul grabbed her wrist.

"How would you like to see Abbey Road Studios!" He cheered, as she pulled her wrist away. She grabbed her belongings putting them in her book bag.

"I would love to, but why are you..." She ran after Paul as he dashed to the exit. People stopped and stared. Some were muttering:

"Is that Paul McCartney?"

She raced towards where Paul was at his car. He motioned her to get in. Obeying she got in the passenger seat. He drove off. A quick and sudden realization hit her. They were in America, New York. They were no where near London!

"How are we going to get to Abbey Road Studios?" She asked, gripping her seat belt.

"I may have lied a little. Birds fell for it all the time back in the old days." He smirked. She glared at him. After what felt like hours, the two pulled up to a recording studio. Why would he bring her here. Was the first question in her mind. Was he really just some pervert? Paul guided her inside, walking past the front desk to the nearest recording booth. Pulling out a guitar he sat down.

"What are you doing?" She asked, finding a stool to sit down. He quickly motioned her away from the stool, pointing at the piano.

"You can’t play the piano from there." He coed, tuning the guitar a little.

"Play the piano?" She repeated, sitting down. He nodded.

"We're going to play 'Yesterday'" He smirked. Her lips pressed together. It had been awhile since she had played anything seriously.

"Why?" She asked, looking at the keys that were as white as the moon.

"You'll see." He said.

"That song doesn't have piano--"

"But it can." He smirked, beginning to play. She could do this. Following Paul's lead, she began to play what she remembered. Paul sang and every now and again Y/N would join too. Suddenly she felt dizzy. Paul's guitar rang in her ears. He walked over to her, still playing.

"You can save the Beatles." He said, as everything went dark.

[miqolena]

My first-final thoughts on Dawntrail

My opinions and spoilers for the entirety of 7.0 under the cut.

Overall I enjoyed this expansion immensely. There was no point at which I thought to myself, "I can't wait for this part to be over," or "This is really dull," or "I want to move on to the next thing right now." There was no character I did not enjoy and feel at least something small for. Characters I kind of didn't like initially (Bakool Ja Ja mostly) ended up being some of the characters that I loved most. Wuk Lamat was a joy in her development. I wasn't annoyed by her initial faults and I liked that she retained some of them even at the end, after she had grown so immensely. Zoraal Ja's dimensions were revealed a little late into the game, but I had already sort of gotten a notion of them by the time that happened, so I didn't mind, and I find the idea of struggling with the legacy someone leaves you with the best of intentions to be really compelling. I adored Gulool Ja Ja to pieces. And Wuk Eva. And literally everyone else. I'm serious, there's no one I didn't like.

The area that affected me most was Living Memory, and if that was like kicking me in the shin, then Heritage Found was the winding back of the leg. I have dealt with my own losses in life and the whole thing with reusing souls and resurrecting people and preserving them based on their memories was grotesque to me. My loved ones are gone, and we had wonderful relationships and I loved them dearly, but I would never want to speak to them again. Because they are dead and should stay that way. But the scene with Wuk Lamat speaking her last words to Namikka was terribly upsetting because I couldn't help imagining the things I would say to my loved ones if I could see them again. It struck home with painful precision and there were tears.

The themes of love, legacy, war, redemption, death, and loss were poignant to me, and I think they were handled really well.

As for the encounter design, the dungeons were fairly difficult but I never died in a Trust run, so they must not have been too hard. Same with the trials. I can see myself doing these things over and over again without getting too tired of it for the next two or so years. The single player duties were great except for the one QTE in the duel with Gulool Ja Ja, which stressed my hands to the point of forcing me to take a break for a few hours.

For gathering, I appreciate the new action Revisit that the game added to the two gatherers, it's always exciting when it procs. Fisher seems to be sitting pretty too. I haven't done all of them yet but so far the Wachumeqimeqi quests have been great, and I haven't done any of the role quests yet, so no opinions there. For crafting, I haven't really delved into the potential of the new actions, but I know they're probably going to shake up the game a little.

Music was spot on as usual. The game's graphical update has done wonders for the visuals as well. I'm lucky in that I'm completely enamored with Lena's updated appearance; a lot of people aren't so happy. I hope that their concerns can be addressed over time.

This might be new expansion smell filling my head, but I think Dawntrail might be my favorite. I can't wait to see where they're going with this, the aftermath to the threads they made in the MSQ. I want more of these characters and places and I know I'm going to get it, and that's the most comforting feeling.

As for fic, though… I think it's going to be hard to put Gaius in there with Lena. The entire first half the WoL is providing a role of mentorship for Wuk Lamat and I'm going to have to think really hard about how I write the MSQ so that Gaius is there and not just nodding his head and going 🧍‍♂️. There are a few moments when I was playing where I thought to myself "Gaius could respond to this with something relevant to his character," like for example when Zoraal Ja remarks that the Empire was full of idiots, but those were just a few moments. It'll be hard to fit him in with the rest of it and depict the MSQ in a way that's both not boring/retreading what viewers have already seen to much while still getting the information of the plot AND my changes across. We'll see how it goes. I'm not super hankering to start, so we'll see when I get to that.

That's all. See you ingame!

[malamai]

Today I absolutley sucked. ✌️

Last night I could not sleep (common issue in my world, I know.) No matter what sleep aid I took, what I did, last night was a bad night for me, it was particularly awful because it was my management shift today. YIPEE... so I ended up FINALLY managing to get myself to sleep for a light nap, I got up at 6am, threw on my work clothes and while I was looking in my drawer for socks, I literally fell asleep The sims 4 style from exhaustion while trying to find the socks. Then slept through two alarms that I set for work and suddenly I opened my eyes and realised it was light outside and instantly knew I was late as fuck because it was 9am and I wasn't meant to be on the floor, I was meant to be at my desk about 30 minutes previous to that moment. So I jump up and like any normal person, naturally I scream "SHIT" and I ran, SOCKLESS BY THE WAY, I ran so fast from my house to work I got to the other part of town in less than seven minutes and now I have blisters from my vans. JOY...

I get to work and a customer is pulling up and hops out of his car, he's like "do you open later now?" And I'm like frantic and out of breath telling him "no. I slept in, ill tell you more when I can breathe again." Because I ran RELENTLESSLY to the point where I was coughing and coughing and I'm trying to call admin and I can't even speak to admin because I can't catch my breath, she's like "imma call you back", I'm trying to set everything up in the shop, the dude who caught me outside decided to help put things up on display (which I really REALLY fucking appreciated) and I eventually got the shop together and made myself a coffee. I then popped to to toilets and l caught a glimps of myself in the mirror AND FUCK ME, I looked like I had been on a week long bender! My hair was all over, bags under my eyes, pale (probably from the lack of oxygen in my body) I looked dishevelled and ridiculous! 😂

Luckily for me because of how open I have been with the admin and higher up colleagues about what is going on in my life I was instantly given a decision of "no further action" because as it was said on the phone, they are aware of how much I have going on at the moment and they think it's a wonder that I power on through and haven't taken time off, which I appreciate. I also spoke to admin about everything new going on and found myself laughing at points and it was weird but nice, because she was laughing with me and i said "sorry I know I shouldnt laugh but I do just find myself laughing at that now. Like it's really not funny HA!" and she said "Misty, that's trauma, you've had a lot of trauma lately, sometimes when we process that we find ourselves looking back and laughing." While also laughing with me and she's very right.

Towards the end of my shift I was 30 minutes late out because people wouldn't leave and then some random guy decided to walk into my life and put £57 worth of coins made up of various small change into one of the machines and then turn to me and say "well that's one way to get rid of my shrapnel!" And smile. LITERALLY. It made me wish there was shrapnel in my brain because he could of just brought me the money and I would have changed it for him and not had to count it at stupid o'clock and TO TOP IT OFF. I HAD TO COIN EVERY PENNY AND THE MONEY WAS FUUUUCKING STICKY!!!! 🤮🤮🤮 I was too exhausted and cranky to be dealing with sticky dirty money!

In all seriousness I am not surprised I was so tired that I just flopped because at the moment I find myself feeling like a forgotten part of society. As a mother I have been in many situations in my life, I have been the teenage mother, I have been the workaholic motherand I have been the judged tattooed mother but weirdly I find this most recent one the toughest, and I can respect the fact that I have clawed my way to making it to a place where some people who didn't have kids as a teen would struggle to get to but there is literally no fucking help for a 30 year old woman who owns her own house who's relationship ended. Right now I am on antidepressants, sleep aid, iron, folic acid beause of b12 anemia, I'm working my ass off, not using childcare so it doesn't gobble up my wage. The other parent moved 40 minutes away and the only help I am getting is from my parents, for a day and a night a week, I'm still hosting the sleepovers, I'm still playing the games, I'm still making ends meet and on top of all that I am fixing up this house! It's like when your kids are over the age of 5 years old you are just expected to juggle on a unicycle with flaming wheels and keep the shit show going and smile til you drop and I don't get it! We just have to get though it! It seems to me eveytime you find a helping hand you can't reach for it because it will risk fuck up something else and its not fair. Nobody wants to end up a single parent at 30 but it seems like as a woman of this age, in this position in society you are pushed to your limit and backed into a corner.

On a lighter note, I have 2 days holiday now and I am taking the kids to their first gig tomorrow with my best friend! I am going to let my hair down and embarrass the life out of my kids! 😁

[faeryeo]

perfect for you

જ⁀➴ jeong yunho x fem!reader (ft. seonghwa)

༄ yunho prepares the perfect date to finally pop the question to you. absolutely nothing goes as planned.

wc; 2.7k

cw; failed marriage proposal, established relationship, absolute pure fluff, minor injury (reader), slight mention of blood, yunho’s trying his best okay</3

notes; on a writing kick here lately, and i had to write something sweet to make up for my last angsty yunho fic! small spoiler: he cries this time haha :,)

🎧 sunlight by hozier & 18 by one direction

Yunho had been planning this night for weeks. With the help of resident hopeless romantic, his close friend Seonghwa, he was certain the preparations couldn't of gone any better.

A romantic dinner followed by a walk in the park to a decided upon clearing, where you two could watch the stars together. Then, while you were distracted by the constellations, he would get down on one knee and ask you the question that's been weighing on his mind and even heavier on his heart for as long as he's known you.

Truly, he's known all along. Blurted it out, too, before he could stop himself on what was just your very second date together. That he could imagine himself marrying you. He had turned red in the face from the blunder while you only giggled. He was relieved his declaration hadn't bothered you at all, and spurred on by the sound of your unabashed joy, he felt all the more assured of his feelings.

Seonghwa had suggested not doing anything too out of the ordinary from your regular date nights to not draw any suspicion. Yunho agreed with this, as difficult as it was not to pounce on you from sheer excitement after finally seeing you in the dress he had bought you just for this evening. You both occasionally coordinated the other for your respective planned date nights, so you'd had no qualms about wearing what he had picked out for you. You looked a dream in the dark red fabric, the color suiting you perfectly and the fit even better than Yunho could've imagined (women's sizing was a complete mystery to him, and so he felt once again grateful to have had Seonghwa's help).

He finds himself staring at the expanse of your bare shoulders when you call him on it, his gaze snapping to meet your's with what can only be a blinding smile. He can't hide his enthusiasm in the slightest, but given your past comparisons of him to that of a hyperactive puppy on just any regular day, he's hopeful that his demeanor comes as no surprise to you. The star gazing would be new for you both, but otherwise, you didn't seem the slightest bit privy to his actual plans. He feels positive that the night is already going so well.

Until it doesn't.

"Sunday?" Yunho asked, brows pulled together in confusion. "Are you sure? I'm positive I made the reservation for Saturday."

Yunho pats down his pants, the weight of the ring in his front pocket suddenly feeling so much heavier, and sighs when he can't find the familiar imprint of his phone. Of course, he'd left it in his car.

"I'm sorry, sir," the hostess says, tapping on the screen in front of her. "Your reservation was made for the 21st."

"Today's the 20th?" He mumbles to himself. He had prepared for everything so thoroughly, how could he have gotten the actual date wrong?

"It happens, love," you reassure from beside him. He glances over as you rub his arm, an unwavering smile still present on your face. "There's an Italian place across the street. I'm pretty sure they're reservation optional."

Yunho relaxes at your quick thinking. He had felt himself begin to spiral, already believing the whole night was ruined because he somehow messed up this one little thing. He realizes he shouldn't let a small mix up change the entire course of the night, so he nods, giving you an appreciative grin as he agrees.

The place you mentioned is, in fact, directly across from your usual date spot. Yunho never paid it much mind, as you two only ever came to this side of town for the same restaurant every time. But standing outside of it now, the building is just as inviting. Warm lighting shining through the iron windows and then the door when he holds it open for you. The blend of aromas from where you enter is pleasant, and he almost feels silly for nearly panicking over something so honestly small. It was a shame the same restaurant he'd officially asked you out in wouldn't be apart of your proposal story now, but while you appreciated those kinds of sentimental attachments as much as he did, he knew better than to think it would actually change anything for you.

(Yunho had asked you before about what your dream proposal might look like. He had imagined something like a ferris wheel ride, or watching the fireworks together on a warm summer night. A customary dish from your dream travel destination or maybe a home cooked picnic.

"You could propose to me with a paper ring and I'd still say yes," you told him so easily. As if your words didn't make his heart nearly leap entirely out of his chest and run home to you, it's true holder, from the deep affection that floods him.

The topic of marriage wasn't uncharted territories for you both. You talked about it before as something you would equally want whenever the timing is right. Yunho only ever held out for your sake, really. In his heart of hearts he'd always known it belonged with you.

Unable to contain the love he feels any longer, he pressed a firm kiss onto your cheek, "I just want it to be perfect for you. All you've ever dreamed of."

Yunho means it with his whole being. You could ask for the world and he'd find a way to give it to you, or at least run to the very ends of the Earth trying. Never giving up on his search unless you were the one to then tell him to.

You sit up suddenly, him pouting at the loss of warmth by his side while you turn to him seriously. Cupping either side of his face as your eyes pour into his, you make absolute sure that your words are heard loud and clear.

"You are everything I've ever dreamed of, Yunho.")

You're sat comfortably in a booth meant for two when the waiter brings your food, you both having settled for variations of the same pasta dish. The smell is just as inviting as when you first walked it.

As Yunho always does, he waits for you to begin eating first. It's only after you take a bite that he then picks up his own fork, and as he's bringing it to his mouth, he notices your gaze fixed on him.

"What?" He asks, nonchalant. He takes the bite off the fork while your shoulder shake with barley contained laughter. His chewing slows to a stop as the realization dawns on him. He looks down at his plate, a frown creasing between his brows. "Oh. This tastes horrible."

Your giggles break through at that, his head shooting up at the sound and a grin taking over his face on it's own accord.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling despite your words. "It does."

Yunho can't help but chuckle as well, and before long you're both unable to contain your equally loud laughter. Yunho can't find it in himself to be upset at yet another unexpected bump in the road when you just find it so funny.

It's a while before you two are able to look at each other again without laughing, and once you can, Yunho suggests taking your chances on the food vendors you had passed coming inside. Street skewers sound like fine dining compared to the over salted yet still bland pasta in front of you, so you agree.

The chicken skewers are in fact a lot tastier. You and Yunho share your respective two before your walking down the same street as before, interlaced hands swinging between you.

Dinner was unfortunate, but the second half at least was completely out of Yunho's control. He feels better because of that and your easy going reaction to it all. In the future, he imagines you too cracking up over it again, about how the night he proposed was so far from perfect but ended as happily as ever. He can't physically smile any wider at the thought of what's to come, so he squeezes your hand in barley contained excitement.

He can no longer deny the nerves twisting in his stomach once more. The actual proposal was the one thing that could absolutely not go wrong. He couldn't picture in any way that it could - you were a few minutes walk away from the park it was meant to happen, and he could still feel the weight of the ring that he had no way of forgetting in his pocket. Surely it would be smooth sailing from here.

Yunho's steps stutter as he recognizes what sounds suspiciously like thunder rumbling overhead. He huffs a laugh, because there's no way - he must be just so on edge that he's imagining things now. The weather was the one thing he had worried about the most and planned carefully around from the beginning, constantly checking the forecast all morning just to reassure himself. It'd read as a zero percent chance for rain the whole day. No signs of a drizzle at any point this week, even.

But then the first drop falls, and Yunho swears this must be a joke. He tilts his head up as the rain starts, picking up momentum a lot quicker with every passing second. You come to the realization just as he does, shoulders rising as a surprised gasp leaves your lips.

"Let's get you inside," he says, glancing around for any kind of overhang. The closest one he sees is just up ahead, a little further into your walk and closer to the parking lot his car is in.

Determined to at least get you out of the rain before deciding his next course of action, he tugs on your arm. The rain only falls harder with every hurried step you both take, and even if your positively soaked already, Yunho tries to pull you along quickly. Belatedly taking into account how damp the sidewalk has already gotten too, until you almost entirely slip out of his hold and onto your knees on the concrete.

He manages to stop you from completely face planting, but doesn't miss your slight wince as he helps you back to your feet. Yunho decides the overhang is a lost cause and you're better off going straight to the car instead. So, with hurried but more cautious steps, he takes you straight there.

You're both equally drenched by the time he helps you into the passenger seat, and rounds the car to his driver's side. He breathes a sigh of relief once he's finally out of the frigid rain, and quickly cranks up the car to get the heat started before you get sick. He flicks on the overhead lights as he turns to check on you.

"Are you-" Yunho starts to ask, but his gaze falls onto you knee that presumably had hit the ground after your fall. The other came out unscathed, luckily, but he doesn't feel the least bit better when your left knee is scrapped enough to have small droplets of blood forming. "Oh, love, you're bleeding..."

"I'm okay," you reassure, a smile on your lips despite the angry redness of your knee. "It's just a little scratch."

Yunho still feels terrible, even as your sat on the bathroom sink while he dabs at the scrapes with feather like touches. The cotton ball in his hand hardly makes any contact with the wounds, and you can't help but laugh softly at his overly careful antics.

"I don't know if that's doing much of anything," you tease lightheartedly, hoping to ease some of the crease between his brows.

It does no such thing, "I don't want to hurt you even more."

You sigh, "Yunho, baby..." His frown is still fixated on your wounded knee, so you gently cup his chin to encourage his attention back to you. "Look at me. I'm okay, I promise."

You bring your right hand to hold the other side of his jaw, holding firm eye contact to ensure your words stick. Presumably they do, but you don't anticipate Yunho's own filling with tears in matter of seconds.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, attempting to blink away the wetness clouding his vision. It doesn't work, and the first tear makes a pitiful trail down cheek, tugging on your heart as it goes.

"What?" You register his words, mirroring his frown. "Baby, you did nothing wrong."

Yunho stands up straight, running a hand through his damp hair as he begins to ramble, "Tonight was supposed to be perfect for you. Hyung helped me plan everything and it all seemed so nice but then absolutely everything that could've went wrong did and then I made you trip and - and I just want marry you but now you're hurt because of me and I-"

"Yun," you cut him off with a careful hand on his shoulder. "You want to marry me?"

Yunho freezes, his brain catching up to his mouth and he groans, "I really did ruin everything."

You sigh, lifting your hands back up to hold Yunho's shoulders firmly in place.

"Ask me," you simply say.

Yunho sputters for a moment, searching your expression for any hint of upset or disappointment. He doesn't know how to feel that he finds none, only the slight quirk at the end of your lips, pushing an all knowing grin.

"What?" He asks, the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks causing a painful twist in your chest. You reach up to gently dab the wetness away, directing him a warm smile.

"Do you have the ring on you?" You ask instead.

Stunned, Yunho scrambles to pat down his pockets. The one thing that hadn't gone completely wrong all night - he didn't forget the ring. He pulls the velvet black box out of his back pocket. He holds it in his hand, staring blankly at you.

"Well?" You probe, crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you going to ask me?"

Yunho blinks dumbly as he comes to understand. He feels himself wanting to cry again for an entirely different reason. Biting back his own grin, he lowers himself to one knee - not an easy feat given your compact apartment bathroom. His back foot hits the wall and he's nearly in your lap by the end of it, but you're both too giddy to care.

"My love," he starts, feeling unsure. "Tonight did not go how I envisioned. At all. But it did reaffirm everything I already knew. I've always known, and right now I believe. In us and our future, more than anything. Will you-"

"Yes," you cut him off, unable to wait another second. "Yes, Yunho, God, yes."

You throw your arms around his neck, laughing and shaking and feeling the happiest you've ever felt. Yunho laughs as well, encircling his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder.

"Can you let me finish?" He teases easily, feeling a thousand times lighter and happier himself. You nod against his shoulder and huff a laugh of your own.

"Right, sorry," you pull back with a sniffle, wiping under your wet eyes. "Please continue."

Yunho laughs, his eyes filling with tears of joy as he opens the box back between you, "Will you marry me?"

A swarm of butterflies erupt inside of you, a feeling you haven't stopped experiencing since meeting Yunho all those years ago, and you nods hurriedly, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Yunho."

His face nearly splits in two with the grin that takes over his features. He wastes no time pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto your finger, heart warming at the perfect fit.

It's beautiful, practically glimmering under your overhead bathroom lighting, but all you want right now is to be in Yunho's arms once more.

So you toss yourself back into his embrace, holding on like your life and mind and heart depends on it. He clutches onto you just as tightly, pressing kiss after kiss into your still damp hair.

Yunho needs to finish cleaning your knee. He also wants to make you take a shower and strip of your wet clothes before a cold really sets in and so he can proper bandage the wound after. But for now, this is all he wants. To be holding the love of his life and now fiancée at the end of a long day that, despite everything, had turned out even more perfect than he could've ever imagined.

Yunho knew he could look forward to even more bad days, so long as he always had you to come home to at the end of it all.

[mrscoulter5ever]

Truth Requires Bravery Ch 12

Alissa sat hunched over in the damp walls of her holding cell, the deja vu eminent. She had been in this particular cell for the 7 days following her trial, and once again, had been given merely stale bread and water. Thankfully there was no invasive Peter leering over at her. So far anyway. Alissa wouldn't discount the possibility, much as she tried to avoid thinking of it. She was told her execution would take place in 5 days time. Five days. 120 hours of life. 120 hours of oxygen. 120 hours until yet another divergent was erased from Chicago without a trace. Was this really the healing the factions imagined?

Alissa couldn't help but think of pre-war society. She heard there were no factions there - people could be free to live their lives. People could be smart and kind and knowledgeable. They could be brave and selfless and honest. There were no boundaries. What would it have been like, living in a society where she never had to hide who she really was? Where she could just be honest - be her authentic self - without fear or punishment? Alissa was aware that pre-war society likely had its problems, but she still yearned for a past life where she could have been free.

An unexpected face interrupted her wistful dreaming. Eric's face, looking as handsome yet stoic as ever, hovered in front of her.

"I was sent to inform you that your execution occurs in 5 days time," he said brusquely.

"I know. One of the guards already informed me," Alissa replied, her sadness seeping into her voice.

"What were you thinking about before I came here?" Eric asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Your face. You were staring into the distance thinking about something. What was it?"

"I was just thinking about pre-war society. What it must have been like," she said, with a pained smile.

"Stop dwelling on the past," Eric barked.

"Why shouldn't I?" Alissa replied sadly. "I hate my past, and I have no hope for the future, so the past is all I have left to cling on to," she said, staring at the hallway behind Eric.

"Why is that?"

"Why is what?" Alissa replied, scrunching her eyebrows and leaning her head against the bars of her cell.

"Why is it that you think you have no hope for the future?" Eric inquired.

"Look at me," Alissa laughed humorlessly, gesturing to her cell. "What do I really have to look forward to?"

Eric's eyes softened. He leaned his head forward against the bars and kissed her lips with a passion and tenderness very disparate from the apathy he had been displaying recently.

"You know it's not too late," Eric said, his voice significantly softer now. "You can always have a future with me," he said, his eyes pleading.

Alissa laughed dryly. "Are you finally growing a pair and asking me directly?"

Eric smiled slightly and dropped to one knee. Alissa raised an eyebrow.

Through the bars of her cell, she saw Eric bring out a small box with a ring inside. "I know these last few events have been very difficult for you. I never wanted things to come to this. I know that I couldn't live without you, and I hoped you felt the same. I tried to do whatever I could to get you to marry me, but you were too stubborn to listen, and I love that about you, Alissa, I -" his voice choked up. "I love you, Alissa. And I'm sorry that you're here, in a cell, waiting for doomsday. I never wanted that for you. I never - I never wanted that for us, Alissa. I know I haven't been the best at showing it, but please believe me when I say that you were the best thing to happen in my life. I had never known true joy, true happiness, true love until I knew you, Alissa, and I'm asking today for you to do me the great honor of becoming my wife and spending the rest of your life together with me."

Alissa bit her lip and looked down. "I'm not really sure what to say Eric. I appreciate the apology, but this is a lot to take in right now. I'd like to give it 2 days to consider it. Come back again then and I will have an answer for you."

For the first time that Alissa was able to witness, visible sadness clouded Eric's eyes. Despite the turmoil within her, despite the frustrations she felt towards this beautiful man, she couldn't help but feel a pit in her stomach at the despair in his gaze.

"Ok," he whispered sadly, his shoulders hunching over and head falling. He let out a deep sigh. "I'll - I'll come back in 2 days. I'll await your answer then," he said quietly, standing up and exiting down the hallway.

Alissa leaned back in her cell. She had a lot to think about.

(A/N: What do you think of Eric's proposal and apology, dear readers? Should Alissa say yes? Or should she remain awaiting a very brief end?)

[the-thieves-gambit]

It was a sad habit of hers, collecting stories about families that were not hers. Stories about things she had once wished for her. What she imagined life would be like if her father had been around or if she had finally made Jennifer proud enough of her. She was learning, rather slowly, that she needed to stop blaming herself for all of it, but it was still a hard concept to accept. "Oh," Elizabeth said in a bit of a surprise that Annie would talk about her. Then a bit concerned, hoping that whatever she might have shared with Annie might not be inappropriate, a worry wiped when she listened to Lena's words. "At least she keeps no secret from you. That's a good thing. I'm just glad she likes me."

The thought of hanging around like a bat amused her, a genuine smile on her face. "No, I'm an anytime body, it just depends on the mood or what's going on. It was just too hot to be a person during the day during that time." Glad for the change in subject, she smiled. The thought of Anna expecting and growing their family was just something that brought her so much happiness. She never felt so much joy for someone else in her life. A dream that Anna had wished for was coming true. "They would appreciate it. It's a wish come true really. They're all over the moon about this. Yeah, he had a rough bit there where he hurt her feelings and since then he's been a little hard on himself. They all made up but he still feels terrible about it. Feels like it's his duty to never do that again and protect her and baby." He was like his father in that regard, guilt always held onto, as if needing something to repent for, maybe it was genetic.

"I don't actually. I just kind of pick whatever is there." She shrugged. "I'm not picky like that." Never been afforded the privilege of having a favorite anything growing up, it was true. "What's yours maybe I can try it and see if it'll become mine?" She smiled. "But there are so many flavors out there in the world that I'm not sure if I would ever truly be able to pick just one."

Lena's words rang through her head, Being loved by a Bordeaux is like being stood in a dark room and being wrapped in light. "Yeah, it is, isn't it." That was exactly what it had been like, she thought, remembering how she felt whenever Wally would come around but couldn't place a name to the feeling. She knew now what it was, love. The thought of meeting more of his family, especially his twin and his mother, made her anxious. Nothing in the world made her more nervous than that thought alone. Only because if anyone could see the truth of her, of what a bad person she truly was deep down, they most likely be the ones to find it. She was sure of it. There was nothing like someone protecting someone they loved, she had come to know. And the things she had done before, while it could be something that Wally could look past, maybe they couldn't. Who could? Before she could suppress it, she found herself saying it. "Still makes me pretty nervous. What are they each like?"

The question threw her off, hating that she could be so obvious that this family seemed to be able to read her. Settling in one place had seemed to be changing her, the usual poker face she had come to wear so well since her teenage years seemed to be lost. "It doesn't." She admitted. "I take it day by day," it was all her therapist told her she could do. Baby steps. "I'm learning to not expect grand gestures or people jumping through hoops to show they are trustworthy. But trust also never came easy either, so I guess I just let it happen. Small bits of trust. Wally showed me he could be trusted in small ways, and then it just snuck up on me that I could trust him. I think just being around someone for a while and getting comfortable with them will help. I just," she sighed before shrugging her shoulders. "Have to sink or swim I guess. No, that doesn't sound right." Pursing her lips, she thought about it again. "It's like a marble jar, I guess. The more it fills when I'm around them, the more trust I can give if that makes sense. I don't think it does though, I might be bad at explaining it."

Smiling to herself for a brief moment, she realized that Lena had done what she had done so many times before. Drawn information from her in a relaxed state. "Any tips on what to match with this?" She asked holding up the sundress she had finally decided on buying.

She nodded, "It was but there were times when I felt like I was missing out on having my mom be there. I felt like I did at slumber parties, everyone had their moms and I didn't." Though she was eternally grateful to her dad who took off work for all she needed and was a great stand in for mom, sometimes it just wasn't the same. She was always the one girl with the dad mom who tried his best but was not enough. It wasn't until adulthood that she understood her dad had been more than enough. "Every night my kid tells me a new fact she's learned about you." She chuckled, "I feel like it's been a little unfair I've learned so much without actually having a moment."

"That makes you sound like a bat. Are you bat? That would be one of the coolest fun facts I'd learn about you. Safe to assume you're a night owl?" Humming she nodded. "You'll get used to it. Might even think it's fun." Her eyebrows quirked and wondered if she'd catch the innuendo undertone. "Oh is she? Please, I'd love to send a gift basket to her. If you could pass along their address. When you talk to them pass along my congratulations. How's Charlie feeling? Orion sounds like he's more than ready to be a big brother. A protector of both baby and mom." Ice cream it was. "Do you have a favorite flavor?"

"Not really. At least for me, I can't speak for my brother but I do suppose it might be the same feeling for him too. There will be times when you'll feel like you're looking in when you're in a moment but that feeling won't always be there. Faint as years go by. There will be moments where you'll feel this couldn't possibly be your life but saying that you'll also feel like you've finally landed where you belong. Being loved by a Bordeaux is like being stood in a dark room and being wrapped in light. But you know one thing I learned pretty quickly? No one judges anyone here. Past mistakes or fuck ups aren't measured here. My mother in law got to know me as I am, just Lena before I married her daughter. That made it easier to stomp away the feelings of not fitting in. I wasn't just her daughter's wife. I was and continue to be my own person. I'll say the one who'd probably give you a bit of a hard time is Lucie but it doesn't come from a malicious place. She's fiercely protective of her wombmate. It intensifies because she's taken on taking care of his heart." She felt it only fair to be honest with Liz and give her a sort of heads up. She knew her sister in law could be a little intense before she warmed up. "Past experiences taught her words can't be trusted but actions can."

She eyed her for a second before she thought of her question. "Trust doesn't come easy for you, does it?" Based off her observations and the way she carried herself made it safe for Lena to make that assumption. "How do you handle handing that trust to people? This can be toward Wally and people in general." Trust was a major topic in this family and Lena wondered how Liz ticked when it came to trust. Some handed it freely and others made people jump through hoops before they gave it.

[7-wonders]

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between (Morpheus x Reader)

Summary: Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: So! Here we are, with what is arguably the longest oneshot I've ever written. @glitchmeharder had left a comment on a post I made, pointing out that they wanted more fics of Morpheus getting stuck in the Waking World and needing to live with Reader for a little bit.

My mind took this sentence and RAN with it. Like, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I'm pretty pleased with it though, especially for my first Morpheus fic. I hope you're pleased with it too.

(Also, the POV jumps back and forth between Morpheus and Reader, but it alternates every other section and is pretty clear which POV is which)

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

Let me know your thoughts! Likes are appreciated, comments, asks, and reblogs make my world go round! My inbox is always open for you guys :)

*This fic uses she/her pronouns and includes the use of Y/n*

Freedom.

After being held captive for 106 long, painful years, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, is on the precipice of securing his freedom. The younger Burgess’s lover had erased a small part of the runes encircling his glass cage with the wheel of the old man’s wheelchair, sending little more than a sorrowful glance back towards the prisoner. So this was how he would attempt to secure his safety, by breaking the circle of runes surrounding him. Barely a scuff, really, but it’s enough.

It’s enough for Morpheus to feel the faintest bit of his power return to him.

It’s enough that it’s all too easy for him to influence one of the security guards, waxing poetically about his upcoming beach vacation, to close his eyes for just a moment.

It’s enough for a dream to form, one of sun and sea and sand. Sand that Morpheus is able to gather a handful of, right in front of the horrified guard’s dreaming eyes.

The guard, lost in his dream nightmare, shoots at what he thinks is Morpheus. In the Waking World, he’s shooting at the orb that he’s meant to be diligently watching. A bullet hits, and a crack forms. Another, and another, and another, even as the other guard screams at her colleague to stop.

The glass explodes, and Morpheus fills his lungs with his first huff of fresh air in over a century. He can’t get lost in the joy that threatens to burst like a dam at finally seeing and feeling freedom. Not when he has a job to do, not when he has a kingdom to return home to.

He steps past the broken runes, now useless at keeping him trapped, and towards the two that are commanding him to stop where he is. He does as they ask, standing still in front of them. When the female orders him to open his closed fist, he is nice enough to listen to that command as well, lifting it to his mouth and blowing the sand in their faces.

A portal forms above him, and all Morpheus can think of is home. The Dreaming. He can feel it calling to him, a kingdom beckoning its ruler back. His power lifts him, and Morpheus welcomes the sensation of traveling through realms.

Then, just as quickly as he had his power, he loses it again.

Like a spelunker who’s just had their trusty rope give out on them, Dream finds himself free-falling with no way of stopping or controlling where he’s going. He tries desperately to clutch onto the tendrils of power that have abandoned him, but they refuse to obey.

He lands harshly on cold pavement, weak and disoriented with no idea of where he is. There’s a flash of blinding lights, the sound of rubber squealing, and then…

Darkness.

•••

It’s late at night, late enough that the few traffic lights that you pass are continuously blinking red and yellow. You hadn’t intended to be out so late, but catching up with friends at a restaurant had led to all of you losing track of time, talking and laughing and reminiscing until a manager politely informed your table that the restaurant had closed ten minutes prior.

Large tips had been left as apologies and your group hustled out of the door, leaving one another with hugs and goodbyes and promises to do this again, sooner than the months it had taken to get together in the first place. You got into your car, locking the doors immediately after, and you were happy.

Still, as you watched those you know and cherish depart with their significant others, you can’t help the pang of melancholy that taints an otherwise-wonderful evening. You’re at the age now where everybody that you know is in relationships, getting engaged and married and settling down and coupling up. You, however…are not. And you’re happy with being single, truly; the best company you can have is yourself. But knowing that you’re going to return home to your quiet apartment, where you’ll go to sleep in your empty bed and wake up to eat breakfast alone before repeating the monotonous cycle that is working a full time job and being an adult in general is making you just a little bitter.

You dwell on this as you drive the deserted roads home, even though you shouldn’t be. Shaking your head at your tendency to mope, you decide to do something about it and turn your radio up with the hopes that something good is playing on the random playlist that had begun when your phone automatically connected to the car’s sound system. Hell, maybe even something bad. Anything to get you out of this thought pattern that is quickly attempting to derail your mood.

“Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?”

Ironic, considering you were just lamenting your own loneliness, but you’ll forgive Stevie Nicks for almost anything, so you let it slide. Tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, you hum along to the song and stare out at the empty, rainy landscape ahead.

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

You don’t look away from the road, you know that you don’t. But in the literal blink of an eye, a white figure appears right in front of your car. Slamming on the brakes with a scream, you watch as the figure collapses ahead of you. You don’t hit whatever it is, thankfully, and after lurching to a harsh stop, you peer through the windshield at what your headlights illuminate.

It’s a person, or at least you think it is. They’re pale, paler than any person you’ve seen before. They’re also stark naked, which, for a number of reasons, can’t be comfortable. Should you get out and help?

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking down at the man. 

He’s laying on his side, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. A mop of unruly, jet-black hair covers any other facial features that might have made him distinguishable to you. 

He doesn’t answer, and you swallow harshly. Oh God, is he dead? You thought you didn’t hit him, and your car doesn’t have any damage, but maybe you did.

Crouching down next to him, you take note of just how skinny he is when you lay a hand on his wrist to check his pulse (which is thankfully thrumming steadily beneath his near-translucent skin). No, not skinny. The man in front of you looks emaciated. What happened to him?, you wonder as you move your hand to his bony shoulder and begin to shake him.

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

This time, a muffled groan answers you. Okay, that’s better than before. At least he’s semi-conscious. Still, he doesn’t look well at all, and you should probably get him to a hospital to be checked out. When you voice this thought, you finally elicit a reaction from him. Long, ice-cold fingers grip your wrist weakly, and you stare at him in shock as he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” You lean down next to his covered face, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“No…” he mutters. “Please…no…hospital.”

He’s delirious, that much is obvious. Still, you find yourself mulling over his request. He really does need some sort of medical attention, but he managed to muster up enough strength to specifically tell you that he didn’t want to go to a hospital. As you think about it, you also start to come around to the “no hospital” idea. 

After all, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital and dump a naked, starving man on their doorstep while claiming that you have no idea how he got like this? At best, the authorities would probably be called and you’d be questioned for kidnapping. No, it’s probably for the best to keep away from the hospital.

Logically, you know that you’re so stupid for even considering the idea that you’ve had. But really, what is this man going to be able to do to you? Even if he weren’t in and out of consciousness, he’s so frail that you could easily take him down were he to try and attack you. Against your better judgment, you decide what you’re going to do.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure the man, who you’re not even sure can hear you, before you stand up. “I think I have a blanket in the trunk of my car.”

A quick search through your mess of a trunk does reveal a blanket, hauled around at the insistence of your mother who preached needing an “emergency kit” in your car at all times. Now, you silently thank her as you grab it and hurry back to the man, though you definitely will not mention to her what the emergency kit was finally used for.

You haul him to a sitting position, his head falling back limply as you fix the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you think you can stand? I’ll get you to the car, I just need to get you on your feet.”

He makes a slight movement that looks like a nod, so you move his arm around your shoulder and wait until you feel his light grasp on your shirt before slowly bringing both of you to stand. Once you’re sure that you’re not going to drop him, you struggle with him towards your car. He’s lighter than most adult men, but considering he’s dead weight, it’s still tough to walk with him. You fumble with the handle of the car door, nearly throwing it open so that you only have to let go of him for a brief moment.

You cringe when he falls backwards onto the seats, landing harshly across them. It doesn’t seem to hurt him at all, the only sign that he even felt anything is a groan in the back of his throat. Whispering out a “sorry,” you cover his body with the blanket and make sure all of him is in the car before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sighing heavily, you think about your life choices as you glance into the rearview mirror to look at the unconscious man in the back of your car. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Taking home a naked man that passed out on the road in front of your car so that you can hopefully wake him up and get him well enough to be on his way without killing you?

Yes, you are.

•••

The first thought that crosses Dream’s mind when consciousness finally returns to him is that his limbs ache. They really, truly ache. It’s not often that an Endless has lingering pains, but it does happen. He stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles twinge as he attempts to loosen them.

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

His eyes snap open when he realizes this, and he’s bewildered to find that he’s not staring at guards looking at him disdainfully from the table they’re always perched at, nor is he looking at the wrought-iron bars separating the large, underground room from the staircase upstairs. No, instead, he’s looking up at what looks to be a ceiling fan, spinning lazily around and around.

The events of what happened before he ended up here (wherever “here” is) begin to come back to him in fragments. First the runes being erased, then securing the sand from the guard’s dream. The orb shattering, sand being blown, and beginning to make his way home. That’s where his memory becomes muddled.

There were lights, and a voice. He thinks he remembers the vague sensation of being moved, but he’s not too sure. Whatever happened, he ended up here…on a couch, under a number of blankets. Certainly not in the same basement that he had been in for over a century, with its familiar cold seeping through the very glass he found himself trapped in. No, this room is warm and inviting. Comforting, almost.

Wherever he is, it’s not in the Dreaming. More alarmingly still is that he can’t sense the Dreaming at all. After that small glimpse of his power that got him out of the Burgess basement, his power has completely abandoned him. A not-unusual feeling, considering he spent the last 106 years without it, but being “free” and powerless is not something that he’s used to.

He has had a lot of time to think about what his lack of power feels like. After a few decades, the best he could liken it to is missing a sense or losing a limb. It’s something functional, something that he should have, but that he doesn’t. Cruelly, he was granted a taste of what he should have for a mere second before fate or karma or the universe itself decided to play yet another cruel joke on him.

Dream slowly takes in his surroundings, his thoughts sluggish and confused. There’s a table next to the couch he’s laid on, a glass of water placed on it. A black screen sits on a stand across the room, and he stares at his reflection in it for a moment before the sound of humming draws his attention away.

A figure – the person humming, he assumes – comes through a doorway, eyes immediately meeting his own. Curiously, she smiles at him when she notices this. Dream’s muscles tense, on guard in the presence of an unknown being so soon after escaping Burgess. Has he escaped one prison, only to land in another?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, as though she’s happy to see this. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores the human’s question. “This is not the Dreaming.”

“No, this is my apartment.”

“I must go.” Dream attempts to stand up, but finds that he struggles to just barely sit up. “I need to return to my realm.”

“You’re not going anywhere, look at you! You’re too weak to even move.”

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

She puts her hands up in the air, presumably to show him that she means no harm. The move reminds him of what one might do in the presence of a frightened animal. In her mind, he is a frightened animal. 

“Have you drank any of that water? I don’t know where you were before I found you, but you look like you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.”

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

The woman waits patiently for him to make the next move, choosing to sit on a large chair near the couch and tap at a rectangle she holds in her hands. Morpheus appreciates not being watched as he greedily drains the water that he’s been offered. Only after he places the now-empty glass back on the table does she look up at him and wait for him to make the first move.

“How did I end up here?” Morpheus asks slowly.

“When I found you, you basically appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere. You were passed out, and you only really came around so that you could tell me not to take you to a hospital.” She nervously plays with her hands, which rest in her lap. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, so I brought you here.”

“Why?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, but considering the only interaction he’s had for so long with other beings involved threats and pleas for immortality, riches, and power, he isn’t expecting much. In fact, Morpheus is preparing himself to listen to her list of demands before acting. Though he’s powerless right now and unable to manipulate her dreams the way that he did the guards at Fawney Rig, he still has millenia of experience to draw on when it comes to escaping a captor.

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

Ah. It’s at this point that Dream realizes that he is, in fact, very much still naked. Though he’s hardly shy about his form, he is aware that most humans have a more puritanical point of view when it comes to the covering of bodies.

“Are you hungry? You look like you’ve been starved, so I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat.” The woman stands and takes the glass off of the table, musing to herself as she walks to another room. “We’ll probably have to start you on something light so that you can get used to eating again. Maybe toast?”

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

He’s been left completely powerless in the Waking World, and he would have to fend for himself were it not for this random human whose path he’s been literally dropped in the middle of. A human who, apparently, has no devious intentions towards him, though he finds it hard to believe that all humans aren’t evil and heartless like Roderick Burgess and those complicit in his captivity. He finds it especially hard to believe that the first human he comes across after the Burgess affair would be the exact opposite of those he’s been around for so long.

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?” After a moment of silence, Morpheus realizes she’s asking him a question.

His attention is brought back to the woman, who’s reclaimed her seat in the chair across the room. Lifting his chin, and with what he hopes is a voice befitting the ruler he once was, he says, “One hundred and six years ago.”

She laughs at what she assumes is a joke, until she realizes that the expression on his face doesn’t change. He can see this mortal begin to make the connections in her mind. His mention of his beloved realm, the fact that he called her “mortal” to begin with, the century plus of imprisonment. The Waking World is so quick to dismiss magic and the supernatural as “fairy tales;” if it is beyond their comprehension, then it therefore doesn’t exist.

Yet, even with what they believe to be sound logic, humans just know when they encounter something that they can’t quite explain. Morpheus has always seen it in the way that people back up when he or his siblings or any of the many other preternatural beings that wander this plane walk past. The fear in their eyes as something primal activates within them, something telling them that they are no longer the apex predator.

Even with his lack of powers, he still carries his innate abilities that are woven into his very being. He can hear the woman’s heart beat faster, see her pupils dilate in apprehension. She knows, even if she does not want to admit it.

Quietly, she asks, “Who are you? What are you?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

A long minute passes as she takes in the information he’s given her. She does not run away from him in fright (which has happened to him a couple of times), nor does she call for someone who will attempt to capture Morpheus and use his powers to their own advantage. Instead, she thinks over what she’s heard and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

Morpheus is not used to thanking others, especially mortals. However, this woman’s helpfulness seems to warrant that he learns how to do so, so he nods. “I thank you for offering me aid in my time of need, Y/n.”

“I’m going to get you some food.” He hardly opens his mouth to make a rebuttal before she’s pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t argue with me, you need food. Then after that, we’ll get you some clothes. Sound good?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s back through the door, presumably towards the kitchen. Though Morpheus is still wary of relying on anybody, let alone a human, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he’s this weak, and certainly not when he’s powerless. No, he has no choice but to place his trust in this strong-willed woman who was crazy enough to rescue a stranger in the rain.

Fates help him.

•••

So, the random, naked stranger you saved out of the middle of the road turns out to rule the collective unconscious of all of humanity. And he now lives on your couch for the time being (with clothes, thankfully; you had procured a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him when he had finally agreed to let you help him), because he’s apparently lost the powers that connect him to said collective unconscious. No big deal.

You didn’t want to believe Morpheus at first. After all, just the mere idea of some being who is eons old and is, in his words, “the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of dreams” sounds insane. But the same sense that told you that it was safe to take him home tells you that he’s telling the truth. And as you get to know him more, you find that that sense was right.

From the way that he talks to the memories of empires long gone and the recollections of those great figures of history that he’s met and inspired, all of which he shares with you as the days go by and it becomes obvious that he can’t just ignore you and hope that you go away, you find it very easy to believe him. He hasn’t given you a reason to not believe him, and until he does, you’ll continue to trust what he tells you.

It’s at least a week before your new roommate is strong enough to move easily around your apartment, though he still looks half-starved. On his second day of staying at your apartment, you had offered to help him to the shower. After all, if you had been deprived of showering for 106 years, it would be one of the first things that you wanted to do. After thinking it over for a long couple of minutes, Morpheus had begrudgingly agreed. The moment he attempted to stand, he had been unable to support himself and had fallen to his knees. This left him no choice but to take your outstretched hand.

It was very obvious that the proud king felt humiliated at needing to use you to support most of his weight as you maneuvered him through your apartment and to the bathroom. You couldn’t exactly blame him, because you’re sure that it is humiliating, especially when you’re a being that’s normally more powerful than a literal god who has to rely on a mere human for help walking a few feet.

According to Morpheus, if he had his powers, he would have recovered at a much faster rate. Since he doesn’t, though, and he’s effectively human for the time being, he has to recover as a human would. When you come home from running a couple of errands one day to find him sitting up on the couch without needing to lean on anything for support, reading a book from your collection, you’re extremely glad to see that his “human” recovery is progressing nicely.

As time passes, though, you’ve found an odd companionship with him. He’s slowly become less wary of you, and you of he, which has allowed you both to trust the other and actually, dare you say it, form a tenuous friendship.

It seems like he’d been expecting you to basically tiptoe around him and ignore him throughout the duration of his stay with you. Considering you don’t want to wake up to a corpse on your couch because you abandoned him in his time of need, and because you’re a person with a conscience, you’ve done the exact opposite, much to his chagrin and bewilderment.

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Though it’s pretty damn obvious what you’re doing, you decide not to be sarcastic with him. “Making soup.”

He nods, leaning against the counter to watch. You feel a bit like you’re on a cooking show with the way that he’s viewing your actions so intently.

“What’s so interesting?” you ask after another moment of unwillingly being on Iron Chef.

“I suppose I’ve never really watched someone cook before.”

The knife pauses in midair, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been alive for as long as beings have had consciousness, but you’ve never watched someone cook?”

“It’s not often that I have to eat. If I choose to enjoy food, the palace staff typically prepares it for me.”

Oh yeah. It’s easy to forget that Morpheus literally has a castle when he’s standing in your kitchen with bedhead. You would make a joke about him being spoiled, but you suppose that if you were in his position, you also never would have taken the time to actually step inside a kitchen.

“Do you want to learn?”

“How to cook?” You nod. “Are you sure that you want to teach me?”

“I’m literally just going to have you cutting vegetables,” you say with a laugh. “It’s a pretty easy task, even for you, your highness.”

His lips just barely move upwards, and you stare at him, stunned. Did he just smile at you? You didn’t even know that he knew how to do that. You’re about to try and convince yourself that it was just a trick of the light when he says, “Being that I am a king, it’s ‘your majesty,’ not ‘your highness.’”

He did smile! And he made a joke! It’s such a small accomplishment, yet you can’t help but to feel immensely proud of yourself. Hiding your own pleased grin, you step back from the cutting board. “Okay your majesty, come over here so I can teach you to cut vegetables.”

Morpheus definitely isn’t going to be on any cooking shows of his own anytime soon. Actually, you don’t know that you’d even trust him to be in the kitchen by himself anytime soon. He nearly cuts off a finger a couple of times, and he struggles to figure out how to hold whatever he’s cutting so that it can actually be cut. The vegetables he’s been in charge of cutting are uneven, but you can see how proud he is of having completed this task himself. You’re proud of him too; though you can tease him for having never done something like cooking before, it must be hard to learn a new skill after so long.

After this, Morpheus becomes less of an unwilling house guest who’s only putting up with you because he physically can’t leave and more of a friend. It became inevitable that you would have to spend time together, since he’s living on your couch until he can figure out how to get back to the Dreaming, but it’s become actually enjoyable to be in his presence, and vice versa. Though he can still be cold, distant, and haughty, that’s to be expected. Your relationship has changed, and he’s changed.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Morpheus finally starts to feel well enough to re-enter the land of the living. At least, he’s well enough to insist that he can start researching how to regain his powers or go home. Naturally, you join him. Morpheus has long-since given up on asking you why you help him, finally realizing that this is just how you are. If he wanted to be left alone, he should have landed in front of the car of someone who didn’t care about his well-being.

You’re sitting in your local public library with him, one of your now-regular visits as you search through book after book to try and find answers. The both of you are tucked in a corner near a set of windows, enjoying the way that the sun warms your skin. Books from a variety of subjects are scattered all around you; religion and history, mythology and occult. Anything that could potentially give you an idea of how to help an Endless regain the powers that they were created with. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of material written on this topic.

Yet another book with no answers is tossed to the side in frustration, and you begin to just fire off random ideas off the top of your head. Most of them involve seeking the help of any magic contacts that Morpheus has here in the Waking World, which is made difficult by the fact that Morpheus has no way of contacting these beings. Both because of his lack of powers, as well as the fact that he’s not the most open person for one to make a contact with.

(“You? Not friendly? I’m shocked, truly,” you had said with obvious sarcasm coloring your tone. Morpheus simply sighed, turning the page of the book he’s reading harsher than needed.

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

It’s more than a little discouraging to have absolutely no answers, and you’re starting to get desperate. You tap your fingers against a book you’ve already looked through, hoping that maybe you’ll learn something through osmosis.

“You could…”

You pause, trying to think of a good idea. Your mind is racing as you turn from logical plans that could actually work to the illogical. After all, if you can’t find something that works, you’re at least going to have some fun. 

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

Morpheus only looks at you. “That is not funny, Y/n.”

“I didn’t say it was!”

“I know your sense of humor well enough by now to know that you find this suggestion of yours at least slightly amusing.”

Your lips twitch, because he’s right. The mental image of Morpheus chucking you off a bridge and then eagerly waiting for his sister, literal Death, to appear while you’re screaming and falling to your end does make you want to laugh. 

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got,” you say with a shrug.

“A terrible idea, truly.”

You roll your eyes jokingly and mutter, “Jerk.”

When you first met Morpheus, he would have taken your words and actions quite seriously and been offended at the perceived insults. Now, he simply rolls his eyes right back at you and smirks. Just one of the many things that have changed between you.

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

You had taken a solo walk around a few of the shelves under the guise of seeing if you had missed any research, but really you needed to get away from the corner of no answers before you started shredding books out of anger. It helped enough that you were able to return to the research with fresh eyes, and it seems like it’s paying off.

In a book about pagan rituals, you find the first promising information that you’ve seen in the last three library trips. You lay your hand on Morpheus’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wait, listen to this! This book talks about summoning the Fates.” 

You point down to the passage. 

“‘It is fitting to begin December with an offering to the Three Fates, the weavers of destiny. Put out three small cups of red wine, fruit and bread, along with three knives. This is a way of honoring the powers that will bring more provisions during the coming year. Have ready three candles, red, black and white.’ It’s not December, but I would think this could potentially be done year-round? We give them an offering, they recognize who it’s coming from, and they give us some answers. What do you think?”

When you look up at Morpheus, you find him already looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s told you that, when he has his powers, his eyes resemble two stars. With the way that they always twinkle when they catch the light just right, you’d argue that they already do. You smile at him, unable to stop the awkward giggle that escapes you as he continues to look at you with something you can’t quite name.

“What?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips and back again. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do, a mere moment before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Morpheus is a really good kisser, which is to be expected since he’s been alive for longer than you can fathom. He kisses you softly and sweetly, and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach make you feel a bit like a teenager receiving her first kiss from a beau. You sigh against his lips, bringing a hand to his cheek while he places one of his on the back of your neck.

Then, it actually hits you what you’re doing. Though you don’t want to (like, you really don’t want to), you need to put a stop to this. What if the only reason he’s doing this is because he feels some sense of gratitude towards you for saving him in the first place? You can’t take advantage of him like that, even if he is a very attractive man that is currently kissing you.

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest to put some space between you, though you still rest your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m letting you crash on my couch.”

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

“No, of course not! I just–I worry that you feel like you owe me, or something. You don’t.”

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He laughs lightly. “Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nod. “Yeah, you can definitely kiss me again.”

Morpheus is more than happy to reclaim your lips with his.

It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly you’ve fallen in love with Morpheus, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s fallen just as fast. You’ve lived blissfully in your own little corner of heaven with him for almost four months now. Though getting him home is still important to both of you, it’s also become less of a priority as you’ve fallen more in love with each other.

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Laying in bed with him one night, you’re transfixed with mapping out every inch of his skin that you can touch with your fingers and watching goosebumps form in their wake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how unreal Morpheus seems to be. You understand, of course, that this is due to the fact that he’s an Endless, that he is physically more than a human, and thus a human form can not truly contain all of him. But to be up close and personal to such a phenomenon really drives home just how ethereal he really is. You can easily see why he’s been mistaken as a god so many times throughout history.

“What’s it like?” you whisper to him, unwilling to fully break the tranquility you’re experiencing.

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

Your heart jumps at the pet name, so sweet and unexpected. Fighting to keep your wits about you, you ask, “Your kingdom. The Dreaming.”

“I don't even know where to begin when I tell you that it is the most wondrous place you will ever lay eyes upon.” He closes his eyes briefly and sighs wistfully. “It has been over a century since I have been home, and yet I can still see it as if I were merely there yesterday.”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.” You should have realized that asking him about the home he currently has no way of getting back to would make him upset.

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

“That is what some believe, yes. It’s a vast plane, considering all the universe’s dreamers use it when they close their eyes at night. The area around the palace, my direct kingdom, is stunning. Imagine the most beautiful landscape you can. That beauty would pale in comparison to Fiddler’s Green, with its orchards and valleys and rivers and mountains.”

“Really?”

“Mm. My personal favorite is a small clearing ringed by trees that make it seem as though you’re completely blocked off from the rest of existence. There’s a waterfall there, too, and I believe you’d quite enjoy the mermaids.”

All of it sounds wonderful, but that last word has your mind sparking with excitement. “Mermaids? Like…actual mermaids?”

“Of course. Mermaids are creatures of dreams. And nightmares. They are subjects in my realm.”

“That’s amazing.” You pause for a moment. “Would I be able to meet them?”

“You will be able to do anything you wish when I finally get to bring you to my realm. Though, it may be difficult to get you out of the library once you’re there.”

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. 

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either. 

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.

[sheetsonfire]

Valentine

Summary: You're a chef and Will drops in at the end of your shift on Valentine's Day.

Fandom: Chicago Med

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1303

Author's Note: Just a belated Valentine's drabble! Happy Reading!

-

"Chef, there's someone here to see you."

You glance at the clock, it reads 23:47, service has long since finished. And most of the patrons had left as well. Who would want to speak to you at this time of night?

You braced yourself for an obnoxiously drunk Valentine's couple to either be really happy or really mad at their dining experience, you never knew which one you would get. Even when your food, you thought, was pretty on point.

Setting down the labels you had been filling out you smooth down your chef whites and make your way to The Pass. The part of the kitchen where customers could see the chefs work.

Even as you're approaching you can feel the bright smile begin on your face, body warming, your chest aflutter. You knew those fiery red curls atop that tall frame anywhere.

"Will?" He turns to you at the sound of your voice, you glance at his hands. Making you smile even more as you sidestep around the bar and through the walkway to get to him.

He greets you with his own bright smile, tired eyes full of joy to see you.

"Hey, baby." You lean up to give him a soft kiss, getting a waft of aftershave and shower gel. He had clearly showered after his shift before coming to you, the smell of disinfectant and latex nowhere to be found on him.

He was in a red button-down and jeans, the red only serving to bring out the copper in his hair even more. His beard had been trimmed down and his hair styled. He looked utterly handsome.

You pull a face, keenly aware that you didn't match his fresh smell, nor his put-together look with your grubby whites and now messy bun. You kept one hand on his face, gently stroking his cheek. "I'm sorry, I smell like cooked food and grease."

He chuckles. "Honey, you know I've come home smelling far worse. It's absolutely fine."

He leans down for another kiss, you sigh happily.

"These are for you." Will hands you the roses he had been holding, and you cup his cheek, kissing him again.

"You're a sweet one hm?" Smiling at him with adoration.

"I try, I try." He winks, letting out a small laugh.

You touch Will's arm affectionately, "Just give me 15 minutes, and I'll be all yours. Jake will get you a drink, won't you Jakey?"

Jake, the bartender at your restaurant, was finishing his closing checks for the day but had kept a few bottles out for staff and himself. He smiles obligingly from across the bar, scooping up some ice for Will, starting to pour.

"No problem, Chef. Pull up a seat Doc, you can tell me some wild stories whilst your Valentine finishes up."

Will nods, still smiling at you with a twinkle in his eyes, he loved coming to meet you after work. You both worked long hours, but knowing you had the following day off together was always something to look forward to.

"Sure, man. I think I have some stories for you."

"Nice!"

-

It takes you 10 more minutes to get the kitchen signed off for the day, finally able to change back into normal human clothes that didn't smell like grease and garlic.

You scoop up the to-go bags you had put some leftovers into and make your way back out to the front. Finding Will in the middle of a particularly gross story that had Jake covering his mouth in shock and horror, incredulous laughter.

"Okay, I think that's enough gory storytelling for tonight." You tease, placing a gentle hand on Will's back.

He finishes up his drink and thanks Jake for the company, spinning off his stool.

He takes the bags from you, letting you hold your flowers which you get to inhale and appreciate more fully now. Meanwhile, Will is sneaking a whiff of the delicious treats you had sequestered.

Bidding Jake goodnight as you make your way to Will's car.

Opening the car you put your food, flowers, and things on the backseat, as you close the door you place a hand on Will's elbow,

"Babe, let me drive, you've been awake since yesterday."

"I'm alright, I just want you to sit and relax."

"Yeah, and that's what I want you to do. So go be a passenger please."

He holds his hands up in surrender, appreciative of the offer. "Yes, Chef" He winks, a cheeky expression plastered across his face. Though indeed very handsome, Will did look tired.

Before you leave the parking lot you pull something out from your shirt, having stashed it in your bra. Will raises his eyebrows, waggling them suggestively. You snort, rolling your eyes amusedly.

“Keep it in your pants, Halstead. For now, at least…” He sits patiently, waiting to see what the bra envelope contained. You hand it to him, he smiles seeing his nickname in pretty cursive on the front.

“To, Big Red”

Carefully prying the seal open, he first finds a piece of parchment that reads,

“Let’s enjoy the music, my love. Our own symphony together is always being written. Happy Valentine’s. I love you, Will.”

You sit watching his cheeks turn a little pink, “Cheesy, I know.”

He chastises you, waving you away. “Don’t knock it, it’s sweet.”

Moving to the next envelope within the first, he opens that seal too. His eyes light up once he realises what you got him for Valentine’s.

“No way.”

“Yes, way.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I did, and I wanted to and we’re gonna have a great time.”

It was two tickets to see Ray LaMontagne for his next show in Chicago.

He leans forward to bring you in for a kiss, “Thank you, Y/N. I love it, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You drive into the city, reaching out a hand to stroke his neck, just glancing at him in the glow of the streetlights. You felt so lucky to have him, for him to be your Valentine.

His mouth upturns in a smile, eyes on the city passing by but keenly aware of your gaze.

"Am I distracting you?" He muses.

"A little, you're very pretty. I can't wait to eat, shower, sleep, and then wake up to have some fun in bed tomorrow morning."

"Oh, is that so? I think I can roll with that plan."

"You better, Mister. I've been thinking about this all day."

"Well then I can't let my best gal down then, can I?"

"When have you ever?" You sigh, lovingly stroking his shoulder before placing your hand back on the wheel.

There's a beat, and then Will lets out a small laugh, "You think I'm pretty?"

It makes you laugh too, it had obviously just occurred to him what you said.

"Very pretty. Beautiful hair, kissable lips, those sweet eyes, just pretty."

"You flatter."

"I try."

Both of you giggling for the rest of the drive, exchanging disgustingly cute compliments as people are wont to do on Valentine's, though this was the norm for you and Will. Much to the amusement of your friends who would often point out how sharply opposite your chef persona could be.

-

It’s an hour later when you’re snuggled up in bed, hunger satiated and your body smelling like figs and vanilla. Your head is on Will’s chest and your fingers are caressing across the fine hairs you find there, occasionally toying with his necklace. You love the warmth he exudes, snuggling closer as you lay half on him. He chuckles quietly at you trying to get all of him in your embrace, wrapping his arm around you a little more, kissing the top of your head as he lets his eyes drift shut.

-

Fin.

[beels-burger-babe]

Melodious Mourning

***Ben Platt?! Hell yes! Okay! I am so so excited about this! Thank you so much @ester-is-here for reminding me how much I love this song. I hope everyone enjoys it. You can listen to the song, if you haven't already, here. Disclaimer: In Case You Don't Live Forever and its lyrics do not belong to me. They belong to the brilliant Ben Platt*** Poly!MC Summary: It's MC's anniversary of their relationship with the Lords of the Devildom. They've planned a little something special to share with them; something that will express how much they love the brothers, while also preparing them for a tragic truth. The time had come. After a long night of celebrating your anniversary with the seven sins, it was time for you to finally show them the surprise you had prepared for them. You giggled as you dragged a tired Belphegor into the music room by his hand, the others following closely behind you. Asmodeus made a small noise of disappointment and leaned against the grand piano in the middle of the room. "You know when you said you had a surprise for us, I must admit this wasn't exactly what I had in mind, " you snorted as Satan smacked Asmo on the back of the head. Asmo yelped and held his head as he glared at Satan. "Though I'm sure that whatever this surprise it will be equally as lovely. Geez, let me finish before you ruin my hair!" Mammon came up beside you. "But what is this surprise though? Is it a diamond? Money? Jewelry? That lost treasure that we never found?" You smiled softly at the Avatar of Greed and poked his nose. "It's better than that. Or at least I hope it will be," You sat down at the piano and took some sheet music out of your bag. "I um...I wanted to sing a song for all of you," you nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "With our anniversary being today, I've been thinking a lot about us and all the time that's passed and the what the future will hold, and I-I just thought that this song would be the perfect way to express all of that."

Lucifer placed a hand on the small of your back as he looked down at you with an awe-filled, adoring expression. "I wasn't aware you could play. I would've loved to play with you sometime." You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "There will be time for that in the future. For now, it's time for your surprise," you hovered your fingers over the keys and hesitated. The song the message shared was important but would be hard for your lovers to hear. You glanced over at them. "J-Just listen, please. Okay?" Beel frowned at the serious look on your face and nodded. He could sense that there was something important about this performance, something almost dire, that clearly frightened you. "Of course." You took in a shaky breath as you began to move your finger across the keys.

"You put all your faith in my dreams. You gave me the world that I wanted. What did I do to deserve you?" Your smooth voice filled the room and wrapped around the hearts of each of the demons. They smiled gently at your words as a warmth filled their chests. In the years that they were fortunate enough to have you in their lives, they had spent every last second doing their best to keep you happy. They would give you the world if you asked for it, and you knew that. "I follow your steps with my feet. I walk on the road that you started. I need you to know that I heard you. Every word." Since coming here, the brothers have shown you a number of things. Lucifer taught you to be more confident and take pride in the things that you've achieved. Mammon taught you that it was okay to be selfish sometimes to do the things that you wanted. Together, you and Leviathan learned that the only opinion that truly matters is your own. Satan taught you that you define your own fate and meaning and that no one can say who you are except you. Asmodeus taught you to appreciate the pleasures in life, no matter how big or small. Beelzebub engrained in you that your body is a temple that you must cherish, look after, and love. And finally, Belphegore taught you that it's alright to take time for yourself. Each of them had impacted you and fundamentally changed the way that you looked at life, and you would never be able to thank them enough for that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me," you swallowed down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. You had waited too long to tell them this, that much was true. By now they were irreversibly attached to you. Though you were grateful for it and loved them in return, there was something all of you had been avoiding discussing. You took in a shaky breath; you couldn't hold it off anymore. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now," You could hear their breaths get caught in their throats. Lucifer's hand froze on your back, while Belphie quickly sat up from where he was laying on your shoulder. "MC, what are y-you saying? What are you-" Levi's voice stuttered from behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to look at them as you continued, "I love you more than you'll wrap your head around," you finally glanced over at Levi. The otaku's eyes were wide and filled with fear and concern as he scanned you for any missed injuries or signs of illness. At finding none, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion. You offered him a reassuring smile before looking back down at the keys. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." Satan's trembling hand gripped onto your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. "MC, my love, that is beautiful. But you can't just say something like that and not expect us to be concerned. Are you alright? Should I be getting a doctor or Barbatos or do I need to take you to a human hospital?" You paused for a moment to turn to your lovers. "I'm okay. There's nothing wrong with me, only that I'm human," you watched as they tensed in realization. "Treasure, that's not-" Mammon stepped forward, but you lifted a hand to stop him. "I've been thinking about the passing of time a lot lately, a-a-and I need to say this. Please, just let me finish?" The sound of your voice close to tears had the brothers wanting to do nothing more than wrap you up in their arms and never let you go again. But there was this desperate glint in your eyes, that none of them could deny. Belphie laid his head back down on your shoulder and buried his face into the fabric of your top. "Go ahead, angel. We're listening." You turned your head to lightly kissed his head, whispering a small thank you, before picking back up the song.

The music filled the room once more, but unlike before where it filled your lovers with joy at the thought of such a sentimental gift, a feeling of dread and unease now swirled in their stomachs. "I've carried this song in my mind. Listen it's echoing in me. But I never helped you to hear it." Your mortality was something that had weighed on your thoughts for years now. You never mentioned it for you knew that the brothers would just brush off the subject. They had lost so much already; they didn't even want to begin thinking about the day when you would no longer be with them. But with each passing year, the subject had become more and more crucial, yet you were still too much of a coward to bring such a distressing topic to light. You had hoped the song would lighten the blow, but based on the way Mammon's eyes were squeezed shut and his fists were pressed to his mouth, as though whispering a prayer, it hadn't. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight as you felt your throat tighten. "We, we've only got so much time. I'm pretty sure it would kill me if you didn't know that pieces of me were pieces of you." It was true. You carried the boys with you where ever you went, both literally through your pacts and figuratively through the pieces of their personalities that you have mirrored throughout the years. You often find yourself mimicking Lucifer's eye-brow raise when someone is acting particularly stupid. The sight of food or beautiful clothes causes your heart to thrumb with excitement, just like it does for Beel and Asmo. You have a deeper appreciation for anime and astrology from your many nights with Levi and Belphie. You're more knowledgeable and educated in literature from your countless hours in the library with Satan. You were more conscious with your money after your few attempts of trying to teach Mammon how to budget. You were one with your boys; a beautiful collage of the experiences and times that you had all spent together. You just hoped that they knew that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me." Asmodeus claimed your other side, as one of his hands moved up to delicately wipe a tear from your face. You noticed, with an aching heart, that his cheeks were tearstained as well. Your lip trembled as you opened your mouth to sing the chorus. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now. I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around. In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." At this point, you weren't singing so much as you were sobbing. You could feel your hands tremble heavily as you pushed them to keep playing. The only thing keeping you from breaking down completely was the solid feeling of the brother's touch supporting you as they lent you their strength. You squeezed your eyes shut and played hard on the keys, causing the brothers to jump a little as you began to belt. "I have a hero if ever I need one!" Flashes of the countless times that they had come to your rescue flashed in your mind. Unknown to you, the brothers weren't thinking of them rescuing you at all, but rather how you had saved each and every one of them. "I just look up to you and I see one! I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one," your voice quivered with emotion as you held the falsetto note at the end. You leaned over the keys, suppressed cries falling from your lips as your shoulders shook. Beel placed a hand over top of one of your own and met your gaze. "You don't have to finish this MC. We understand what you're trying to say and we can just end the song here and talk if you want." It was tempting. Honestly, your hands our practically useless with how much they were shaking. But this wasn't just for them anymore. Speaking the words that had been swarming your mind for too many years out loud, although painful, also freed you from a sense of guilt that you weren't even aware that you were carrying. "I-I'd like to finish it. I-If you all don't mind." Belphie's arms came to wrap around your waist and Asmo

pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lucifer's hand on your back moved in comforting circles, while Satan repeated the motion with his thumb on your shoulder. Levi moved closer to lean onto the piano for support. Mammon gave you a tearful smile as Beel lifted his hand off of yours. "Of course. Take your time, honey bun." You took several deep breaths to calm yourself before lightly playing the chords. You met the eyes of your partners and hoped that they could see the utter adoration and passion that was flooding through your veins for them. "In case you don't live forever let me tell you now," you playfully elbowed Belphie and turned your head to kiss Asmo's cheek. "I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around." As the music picked up the tempo once more, you couldn't help but grin even as tears poured down your cheeks. "In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am-" You closed your eyes, tilting your head back, as you allowed yourself to give in to the music and fully feel everything that you had been suppressing. "Woah, Woah, Woah. " As you began to sing the melody again, your eyes snapped open as you heard the brothers harmonize alongside you. Lucifer, Satan and Beel's low voices rang deep like the growl of thunder. Asmodeus and Belphie hit the higher octaves, chiming like bells ringing in the wind. Mammon and Levi sang the original notes with you, remaining strong and pure like waves against a shore. You laughed brightly as a radiant sensation of love blanketed you in warmth and soaked up any traces of fear that lingered. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth." You looked around at the brothers tenderly and softly played the final notes. They all smiled back at you, eyes gleaming with that same sense of passionate affection that you had felt moments earlier. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you came to a realization. No matter how much or little time you had left with each other, you would spend every moment of it at each other's side loving another unconditionally. "As long as I'm here as I am," you rested your head on top of Belphie's and smiled softly, "so are you." *** This was so sweet and sad at the same time and I just LOVED writing it! Oh my goodness, I haven't written a song fic in ages, so this was a little challenging, but I just loved it so much. Thank you @ester-is-here for this beautiful request!*** TAGLIST: @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[009720kakashi]

narasnooze

"Every third hour, or so, yes." the sarcasm continued... though, he had to admit there was some truth in there. Shikamaru found it easy to work with Kakashi, after all. It was very enjoyable, actually, most of the time. But the copy-nin didn't need to know that, did he?

Pakkun, on the other hand... an absolute menace as always. ( shikamaru will deny any sign of appreciation or enjoyment he's got about that pug. you say you saw shikamaru smile at something that dog once said? you must be off your rockers, living in the moomin valley. he would never. cough cough. )

Nara hummed in response, lazily eyeing to where Kakashi pointed out the different piles. In truth, he wasn't concerned. He knew Kakashi wasn't a slob and a total wreckage. Kakashi just had his way to organise things, as everyone does. What worried Shikamaru slightly was to catch up– and on to it himself. About that incredible hiding place for classified ANBU missions, however...

'Under the couch', are you kidding me? Of course, he is... But also; No, he isn't.

Shikamaru looked at the older man again with a dead-pan expression and shrugged. "Only gnomes, I'd suspect."

Then the documents he'd been holding was gone and he finally couldn't hold back his amusement and chuckled quietly at Kakashi's frown before reaching out to take the other pieces of paper the Hokage offered him. However, his joy was soon replaced with a faint annoyance again. "You have no ANBU stationed by you right now? With all of these lying around?" he gestured to the piles of documents, classified and not. "How do you even know I'm–– me?" Unnecessary question, because of course Kakashi knew. But still...!

With an exasperated sigh, Shikamaru dropped down on the floor with a sour, childish look on his face before looking down at the reports. No way in Hell that he was going to deal with ANBU following him tonight. Not after this damn trip he'd been through... Not that ANBU made any sign of being nearby, but it was just the fact that he would know they were there, breathing down his neck the entire time.

...poor Kakashi. Shikamaru really felt for him having to live like that.

"Don't bother. I rather pass out on your pug-drooled floor."

"That's oddly specific...is it just when you are away that you miss me and the 

Pug every third hour or do you think about us every third hour here as well? I will of course inform Pakkun about it as well" he said. Yeah...he was very tired. A yawn escaped him while he watched Shikamaru already going over a few of the papers. 

"Gnomes...now I'm scared...maybe I can get the ANBU to look under the couch for me and fetch these reports...but then maybe not...I just recently got a very scary lecture from Shizune telling me that it is not nice to shit your employees."

He probably should not have send that kid to the hospital of all places to get the special slide rule for his bloodcount so he could read it properly. Kakashi was maybe even lucky that the kid had asked Shinzune and not Sakura.

"Maa technically I do have ANBU since I am ANBU so it's not quite right that there are no ANBU here ne?" 

He pushed himself off the doorframe, took the few steps and sat down next to Shikamaru on the floor.

"There is no Pug drool on the floor. His majesty does not sleep on the floor...it's Bull's drool...nah don't look so defeated already...there are also good news...I did my physical...is what I would like to say...I did half of it though...which was basically Sakura bursting into the office armed with a syringe and these small tubes to draw blood...I still have do that fitness and chakra whatever stuff...however right now it might even be necessary to call a medic to get me off the floor again so there is that."

narasnooze.

Kakashi's assistant grimaced at 'smitten' and decided that was enough to make his thoughts about the subject clear. No way. He's too much of a hassle for someone to love. Requires too much patience, and very few has that much. Perhaps he was a tad bit overdramatic, but... it wasn't easy meeting someone you could be at complete ease around. Those who fell into that category were just some of his... friends. Friends. Speaking of patience... Shikamaru just looked at Kakashi with a dead-pan expression when the older man told him where these very important and classified documents currently were. On his damn coffee table, with that damn pug possibly drooling all over them. Fantastic. Was he surprised? Not in the slightest. Would he hide his disapproval about it? Absolutely not. "I've got to say... it's great to be back." he told the other, with the perfect amount of sarcasm mixed with amusement. He managed to keep his expression as flat as possible, though and then left Kakashi to step into the living room. "Bad? No, no... you're brilliant. So proper and mindful of the most important things." Shikamaru continued, still letting the sarcasm fill the room as he picked up one file and began reading through it quickly. He then began collecting all documents and files and stacked them together. "Well... do you trust me to take them back where they should be? I want to go through these tonight."

"You missed us ne?" he replied, clearly amused. He had gotten the sacrasm but just refused to take it as sarcasm. 

Before following Shikamaru he reached over to grab his cup of tea. Kakashi slouched after his assistant into the living and leant casually against the doorframe, taking a sip from the tea.

 Pakkun really had left by now. However not without leaving a bit of dried drool on the files. Though maybe that was his actually. He would shamelessly pin it on the Pug. Without Shikamaru Kakashi had basically done everything on his own. Sure there always were subsitutes when Shikamaru left. Unfortunately it was quite difficult to live up to Kakashi's expections. The Hokage did not complain. He did however take over all the work if he was not stopped. The result was sitting in his living room in the form of piles of files not just the ones he had mentioned to Shikamaru. A lot was already done though. It was not that bad. If he put his mind to it Kakashi was very good with paperwork and due to Shikamaru's absence he had put his mind to it. Still it had been too much. More than once he had fallen asleep with his face on the file. Hence the back pain...well and possibly the drool. 

"So I've been told" he commented with a grin. Actually he had not been told he was 'brilliant'. Prodigy yes but not brilliant. There was a difference. Honestly he had been told he was an idiot maybe more often than that he was brilliant. 

"It looks worse than it is...see that stack here is done and I think the two behind the couch are as well...and the one with the used tea mug on it is finish too...the ANBU mission stuff I put under the couch...so that's safely hidden. I mean who would look there right?" 

With a frown he snatched the papers out of Shikamaru's hand.

"Don't steal my paperwork. I have not read all of it." He sat down cross-legged on the couch and pulled out the ANBU files, handing them to Shikamaru.

"Here ...read these first. If you want to take them along I'll call for ANBU guards though" he replied more serious again. There were some nasty missions in there. Also yes, he had actually dismissed the ANBU guarding him two days ago.   

[taechaos]

Little Secret

pairing: step-dad!Jungkook x fem!Reader

synopsis: From a fun celebration to not getting to the bathroom on time, you pee yourself in the middle of the living room and your step-dad has to take care of you.

warnings: smut, pseudo-incest, urine, fingering in tub, dubcon

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is the disgusting fic i was talking about 🥰 not proofread, just smth i wrote in one day for fun. enjoy as long as u dont hate piss lol 😔👍

It's a night of celebration—the end of high school. It's the best celebration yet because you, after surviving hell of twelve years, are at the legal age to drink in a bar with your friends; the best night you can recall in your drunken state. Dancing, singing karaoke, giggling: pure joy.

So why are you crying while stumbling around in the living room? You sob and hiccup with a hand over your face and the other holding the couch for support. It has never been so difficult to stand straight, and you're thankful your mother's sleep is so heavy that she wouldn't wake up from your wails. 

But your step-dad's sleep is as light as a cat's, and you don't hear his heavy footsteps or grumbles as he climbs down the stairs. He rubs the sleep away from his eyes and they widen the moment they lay on you. He's about to call your name until his eyes trail down to the dark patch on your jeans. He doesn't need to ask why you're crying so loudly; it's easy to tell you're under the influence, and well, it apparently makes you very emotional since you're so upset about peeing your pants. 

But you're not exactly doing anything about it.

"Oh, it's okay," Jungkook coos and walks over to you to bring you into a light hug. 

You snuggle your face into his loose white shirt and sniffle. "I didn't– I didn't mean to," you snivel. "I-I couldn't get to the," you inhale shakily, "b-bathroom on time."

"That's okay," he runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, equally disheveled as his. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It happens; it's not a big deal. We'll get you cleaned up."

"I-I ruined it!"

"The washing machine—"

"No," you whimper pathetically, "it's ruined. My denim—" your head rolls back along with your eyes to the back of your skull. You go limp for a few seconds, and Jungkook holds you tightly. Just as he's about to ask you if you're alright, you continue, "the denim is forever ruined!"

Stepping away from his clutches, you rub your palms against the knees of your jeans and then the damp crotch area. The crotch and knees feel different; it makes your face scrunch up in sorrow. "Never the same," you exhale in a trembling voice.

Jungkook watches you in surprise and amusement. You tend to be closed off around him, well in the past year that he's been married to your mother at least. It makes him feel guilty to like you better drunk—extroverted.

"We'll get you new jeans then," he tries to comfort, but you only shake your head. 

"Feel it."

He sighs with a breathy chuckle and feels your jeans as you asked. He touches your pockets and then your crotch, practically cupping your heat. It's still warm with your urine and you pout at the look he gives you. You misinterpret it as disappointment, but it's a look of suppressing laughter. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. I'll wash it, okay? Your mother won't know."

You scoff and wipe your tears away. "Thank you. I-I'm very sorry, so sorry."

"Don't be. Let's go to your room," he slings his arm around your shoulder and walks you upstairs. You hold onto his waist and keep your gaze downcast. 

Your hiccups don't cease when you face the door of your bedroom. He twists the doorknob and lets you enter first. With puckered lips and tear stains on your face, you wait for him to come after you. He does, and then turns away from you. "Hand your jeans over to me, okay? I won't look."

He hears you shuffling behind him, and you don't take long to place the tainted pants in his waiting open palm. Your feet don't stay planted on the floor and you eventually land on your bed. The bathroom is right behind you, but you can't muster the energy to sit up nor open your eyes. "My underwear," you mumble with the side of your face squished against the sheets. 

At your indirect request, he cranes his neck and takes a peek at you. You're lying on your stomach and his eyes unintentionally travel to your ass. For being your step-dad, he thinks it to be okay for him to drink in this erotic sight. It isn't as if he's about to take advantage of a drunk girl, no less his step-daughter.

"You can't take them off?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head.

He blows out a deep breath and stands before your feet. The sight of your wet panties isn't meant to be attractive, but it does get his stomach in knots. He grabs the edges of your underwear and asks you to lift your hips, which you do sluggishly. They're off within seconds and he picks up your jeans from the floor before aiming to exit. He has to get out and cleanse his mind of all his filthy thoughts from seeing your bare pussy two inches from his mouth. "Don't fall asleep before taking a shower first," he reminds with flushed cheeks and pushes the door open.

"Help me," you whine childishly before he can leave. 

He sighs your name as if exhausted—reluctant.

"Please!"

As if it's not bad enough that he got a small glimpse of your pussy, now you're asking him to give you a shower while completely naked. He's trying to be respectful by keeping his focal point at bay, but your ass is still hanging out while you're on the verge of a tantrum.

"Oh God," he mutters to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives in.

After throwing your dirty clothes in the washing machine downstairs, he returns quickly so he doesn't catch you fast asleep. Thankfully you're still awake, but not so alert.

He warns you to keep your eyes open while he fills the tub in your bathroom. There's a water bottle on your bedside table, which he tells you to drink lots from until he's back. He throws in a pink bath bomb sitting on the edge of your tub so you can hopefully relax. Never has he seen someone be in such a childlike headspace after drinking.

But childlike doesn't fit the current scenario when he's lying under your naked body in his boxers in the bathtub because you seem to be a lot clingier when drunk. You don't move a lot, which is a plus, but your butt is pressed against his crotch, which doesn't make the situation any better. 

"I'm sorry," you slur sleepily, "I really didn't mean to." He can pick up the strong scent of vodka lingering around you better in this position.

He tightens his arms around your shoulders with his hands clasped above your chest as he whispers, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. You won't remember this when you wake up, and I'll keep it a secret. Don't you worry about a thing."

"Why are you crying?" he asks softly when you start to sob again. It's a dry cry, and he's certain you don't know what you're doing yourself at this point.

"I can't do anything," you complain, "I'm so tired and-and I can't move."

He stays silent so you can comfortably babble on and on about nothing until you say, "Wash me. Please."

Jungkook lightly pecks your neck and eyes your tits before dipping his hands in the warm, pinkish water and scrubbing your shoulders. You sigh at his gentle touch, prompting him to switch to your knees. "My knees are not dirty," you grumble incoherently.

"Hm? You're not dirty?"

"I'm not dirty there."

"And you're dirty where?" He's teasing you, knowing exactly where you want to be cleaned, but that'd further agonize him with how little freedom his erection has under the tight restraints of his briefs. It wouldn't be appropriate of him to use you to get rid of it, but is it against the law to simply bathe you?

"Down," you vaguely murmur.

He can't see anything of your lower region from the courtesy of the blanket of colorful hue that the bath bomb transitioned to, which both annoys and relieves Jungkook. But his hand only listens to you as it trails down to your pelvis. "Here?"

You nod against his shoulder, and that's all the confirmation he needs to palm your vulva. You gasp and slightly jump before adjusting to the feeling of his hand. The adjustment proves to be futile when a small moan slips past your lips at his fingers grazing your labia. 

“You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you breathe with a shake of your head. “I want to be clean, otherwise no sleep.”

“That’s right,” he chuckles and starts running his fingers down your folds. Stopping at your clit, he starts to circle the hood to thoroughly give you the cleaning you desire so much. It isn’t with any ill intentions that he gently cups your pussy and moves it up and down while you squeak out moans without shame. After a few rubs and touches, he's confident there is no more remaints of your drunk mistake. “You’re clean now, love. Want to go to bed?”

“I’m not,” you whine loudly and hold his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I’m not clean,” you cry out and he knows you’re going to start sobbing again, which you do—except your volume might risk waking your mother.

He tries to hush you, but you don’t stop with the crocodile tears. “Baby, baby, look at me,” he pulls your face by your chin, but you escape his grip easily and continue with your tantrum. “I won’t clean you if you don’t look at me.”

With your newfound defiant attitude, it's with a few huffs and puffs that you finally face him and he silences your sniveling with a press of his lips. It's not a kiss in his defence; neither of you are moving your mouths, which he appreciates now that you've gone quiet.

Now that the risk of your mother waking is taken care of, his hand is on your hidden heat again. At this point, it's easy to tell you're not worried about being clean anymore. You aren't sleepy, though you keep your eyes closed from being in this intimate proximity with Jungkook, you're in need of a climax. It's a shame that he's in a similar state as you, but if you're drunk to the point of asking your step-dad to touch you, it wouldn't be clever of him to ask you to return the favor.

Despite his clear lack of vision, Jungkook is a human anatomy professor and he finds your clit and squeezes it between two fingers easily, not to mention he's already experienced in the sex field. Your lips part into a whine and he opens his mouth to swallow your sounds as he slowly rubs your clit.

You lean into the—now labelled as—kiss needily, and he lowers his hand to poke at your entrance with his middle finger. He stupidly peeks an eye open to see if he's located it correctly, but your subtle thrust is approval enough. He cautiously shoves it inside your tightness and uses his palm to continue pleasuring your sensitive nub, grabbing your tit with his other hand to play with your nipple. 

"Oh God, hmmm," you moan against his lips and sloppily make out with him, smearing your slick saliva all over. He hums into you, unbothered by your raw affection as he thrusts his finger inside and pinches your nipple to get you to cum faster. He can't have you sobering up any time soon.

"Are you close, love?"

You murmur something in response, but it's not intelligible enough for him to understand, so he assumes you're at least getting somewhere. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, his palm against your clitoris; massages your boob more roughly and moves his mouth down to kiss your neck. As he's giving you a small love bite, your breathing turns into mere gasps with little broken moans. If he could, he would add a second finger to your pussy, but your clenching hole doesn't feel so ready when he curls his knuckle. 

You clutch onto his hair, chanting, "I'm gonna pee again, I'm gonna pee again…" 

"Try to hold it in, baby," he cuts in hoarsely without ceasing his movements. He does slow down when your legs start to shake and tremble, splashing the water as you do as he leaves calming pecks on your neck, collarbone, and a few on your lips. Not as a warning to lower your voice—your last moans are ones to savour—but to ride out your high. He has no idea if you did squirt in the tub, but he isn't going to take another shower to wash it down. He wants to feel it on his skin.

He can feel your pounding heartbeat under his hand as your body spasms and grinds on his erection. A moment of silence passes with your shaky inhales and exhales while he pets your hair. 

When he feels you calm down, he asks, "Do you feel clean now?"

"Bed."

"Alright," he whispers and kisses your cheek. Your eyes are closed and he predicts you'll be fainting soon, so he pulls the plug with ease and waits for the water to drain before pulling you up by your pits. It's a bit of a struggle because of your slippery wet skin, as well as the water weight on you, but manages to get you out and immediately throws you on the bed. He grabs a towel hanging on the bathroom door and dries you before himself.

Jungkook considers himself an honorable man most of the time, but he can't refrain from jerking off to your naked body while you doze off. Like he said, you won't remember a thing, so it'll be his little secret as he releases on your tits with a groan. He wipes off the evidence of his unorthodox actions, pecks you and your pretty little pussy before dressing you in your pajamas. 

He puts on his clothes and tucks you in before leaving your room with a quiet, "Good night, sweetheart."

All there's left to do is persuade you into doing this again while sober, because he didn't marry your wretched bitch of a mother after two months of meeting if not to have you all for himself. He doesn't mind letting you in on that one secret with time.

[aniron48]

🧠 for Bond and also 🙋‍♀️ please!

::waves:: hi! Thanks for the ask!

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

So, this may be a controversial head canon, but would love to hear contrasting or supporting views, either way, because I think it's fun to think about: one of my headcanons for Bond is that he doesn't really know how to enjoy things. I think the closest we come to seeing him have actual fun is in the bar scene in QoS (I think) where he's shooting the shit with Felix, right before he gets shot at for real; and the second closest is maybe when he's driving a fast car and appreciating its features. But we so rarely, if ever, see Bond experiencing genuine joy, or fun, or laughing, and it makes me feel like maybe he's forgotten what those things feel like. It's one of the reasons I'm a little bit obsessed with the idea of retired!Bond, and with giving him hobbies, which I've written a little bit about before. I'm exploring this as well in one of my WIPs, where Bond is dealing with trauma in part just by trying to find things he actually likes to do to fill his time, but I do think that when people (fictional or otherwise) spend most of their time in survival mode, so much of what otherwise gives life meaning and joy can get shunted aside as frivolous or trivial. And when I write Bond, I want to try to give some of that lightheartedness back to him, if that makes sense.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

Believe it or not, until very recently, the answer would have been "not a single IRL person in my life knows I write fanfic!" But I did actually, finally, tell my wife this week, in part after talking it through a little bit with @mr-iskender. It's hard to explain exactly why I hesitated to tell anyone in the first place. It's not shame-based at all--I think writing fanfic is wonderful and fun and amazing and will defend it on a hill to whomever needs to hear it. But it felt like the one thing in my life that was *just* mine, and I felt (feel) protective of it. I've always been introverted, and as a kid and young adult, my books and my journals and the things that I wrote enabled me to thrive and understand myself in ways that nothing else did, and helped me to recharge my batteries after being in the larger world. And I think the need to have a refuge to do that still exists, even as an adult. Without completely doxxing myself, I'll just say generally that I'm a human rights lawyer, and much of my day is spent constantly responding to atrocities and world events and that takes...a lot of my energy and, honestly, my heart, and all of that is outward-facing. I'm also married, and my wife and I have a small child, and my rule has always been that I try to give my family the best of me, no matter what. This is a conscious choice that I'm happy with, but it basically means that every ounce of my outward-facing energy is...kind of occupied? And writing (especially, lately, fanfic) has been my way of having my own little world again, something that brings me joy but doesn't really ask anything of me that I'm not able or prepared to give.

Sorry, this is getting *massively* long and I'm probably oversharing, but I will just add that, at the end of the day, I am glad I told my wife, just because her reaction was perfect. She told me that she loves my rich inner world, and that she loves that it belongs to me, and that I can share anything I want to at any time, but she also supports me having something that's mine alone. Having that conversation was lovely and I'm glad I did it, so thanks, Alex, for the boost! Sometimes it can feel really good to be seen.