#I'm fully aware that I have to go to school with this tomorrow

[mishalikessoundsandcolours]

It's queer-magick-space-age-and-looking-for-ufos-summer and I was feeling silly, so I stuck some temporary tattoos on my face and doodled stars and dots and stuff on my cheeks (my friend also added some). Also, full Misha face reveal I guess.

And here's two other silly temporary tatoos:

[astralis-ortus]

it feels impossible (it's not impossible)

✱ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader

— 'cause you are the one i was meant to find.

w.count → 2k genre → romcom, fluff warnings → minor cussing (as per usual, heh), chan refered to as chris a.n → i'm usually not the type to write this long simply because i'm easily distracted and have the tendency to abandon projects, but hey! this one prevails :] hopefully next time i can write even longer fics<3 ⋆ see masterlist

honestly, you thought you were going crazy when the same melody restarted on chris’ speaker for the nth time today. it’s not that the song is bad—you do actually love ‘rewrite the stars’. you’re a fan of the movie, much like chris is, but putting the song on loop? for hours a day? for weeks? your sense of fanship isn’t that strong, especially when the song’s been out in circulation for years now.

“you wanna hear a theory?”

your question easily turns chris’ focus away from the endless papers he had to grade by the end of the day and towards you, raising an eyebrow to the sudden break of silence. his eyes visibly twinkled, contemplating if he should entertain the idea of putting on his regular-26-year-old suit over the professional-high-school-teacher ones he’d been in for the past couple hours or so.

well, to be fair, chris hasn't even been focusing on the pages of essays he needed to check. not when his mind has been preoccupied with something—someone­—else.

“shoot,” he eventually replied with a lopsided smile etched on his lips—head cocked to the side when he finally decided to shut the screen of his decorated silver laptop, offering you his entire attention. “it better be funny or entertaining, considering i’m risking losing my hearing to my kids’ complaints for not returning their papers on time tomorrow.”

“oooh, pressure,” you mocked, a wide grin appearing on your face while you try to ignore the rush of tingles under your skin when you noticed the way chris referred to his students as ‘my kids’—something he’d always done and so do you, but somehow had a different effect on you as of recent. “believe me, it’s something fun,” you hummed with a shrug, mirroring chris as you set your laptop aside.

chris’ pair of charming dimples came into view upon your confident reply, fully immersed in the stage you’re setting up. fabric of his gray couch, one where you two had been slowly melting into for a few hours now, gently rustled when chris fixed his posture, less from lazing around and more into focusing on you and whatever nonsense he believed you were going to say. the glint in his eyes grew brighter by the second, both from anticipation and excitement.

“tell me.”

it felt like spring—when the flowers were in bloom, the breeze was blowing ever-so-gently against your warm cheeks, and the swarm of butterflies were surrounding you with its pairs of fluttering wings.

chris made you feel like spring.

“gee, tone down the excitement, mr. bahng,” you inadvertently shifted away, silently praying to whatever force ruling the universe that chris wasn’t aware of the way your heartbeat spiked to his playful grin. “don’t want to disappoint you there.”

”as if you could ever,” chris promptly refuted with a chuckle, chin resting on the palm of his hand. the way his playful gaze was directed right at you, framed by those loose curls of his, proved to cause your heart more problems than ease. “the ever-so-perfect you? a disappointment? really?”

”oh shut up,” you groaned, half wanting to wipe the cocky smirk off his face—or…?

”but then—if you say so, do tell me,” frown on your forehead instantly dissipates, replaced by a mirror of his lopsided grin when you figured you could turn the bullet right back at its owner,

“am i perfectly on point when i say you’re in love?”

despite the slight pang on your heart, you couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face fades into surprise, a shade of blush slowly creeping on the top of his cheekbones.

the topic of love was never really something you discussed with chris. sure, you two met each other in college where hormones were bursting through the roof, but neither you or chris was interested in dating anyone—you with your slowly budding crush on chris, and chris with… god-knows-what he’s interested in. you never pried, for the sake of not making things awkward. that's your norm, and how you’ve spent your last 7 years with chris.

you and chris remained friends, which at some point evolved into best friends (you now, by the hey-i’m-bored-at-2am-let’s-hang kind of standard), and somehow, you two happened to land a teaching job within the same district around the same time. chris went to teach a reputable high school in the area, while you pursue your dream of teaching kids. you hang out at each other’s place every other day, despite the time you spent together consists mostly of being nose-deep in your respective workload.

the topic of love still was something foreign—you wouldn’t deliberately bring it up other than around the occasions when wedding invites stopped by yours or chris’ doorstep.

maybe, it’s time to change that.

”…huh?”

chris is thoroughly perplexed.

”oh come on, don’t even try to lie,” with a smile decorated with victory, you finally teased the man across. “it’s all written on your face, you know,” you continued, fingers gesturing to your own, “but also, your choice of song. god, do you even listen to anything else when you're in love?”

“but i'm not!” he yelped, facepalming himself upon realizing the shift in his tone is a dead giveaway of his true voice. “god—no. i'm not,” he added meekly, shaking his head, “you know i love the song. that's all.”

”fair enough,” acknowledging his plea, you briefly nod, “but that doesn’t justify the way you’ve been keeping the song on repeat! and don’t you think i don’t remember the few other occurrences when you did the same, because i knew for a fact that something happened every time you became distant after going through this rewrite the stars cycle!”

if his face were flushed before, then you’d categorize this new shade apparent on the tip of his ear as a what-the-fuck-i’m-screwed kind of blush and frankly, seeing this new side of him kind of made you regret not bringing the topic up sooner.

”you remembered?” his voice sounded more of a squeak rather than a proper question, still hiding behind the safety of his palms. “no you don’t! that was ages ago!”

”so things did happen!” your grin turned into a laugh, drowning chris’ groan and series of disapproving no when he realized he just bit into your colorful, glimmering bait. “gosh—why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone? i was kinda hurt whenever that happened you know,” you purse your lips dramatically, “i lost a friend to talk to and never exactly know the reason why until today.”

“oh,” chris blinked, finally looking right at you with a puzzled gaze, “you… were? i mean—i’m sorry i hurt you. for the record, i wasn’t dating anyone. i just kinda assumed, you know, since you were dating someone else anyway i thought—“

”hold up—“ both statements rolling off of chris’ lips inadvertently made you hold up a hand, stopping the latter on his tracks. ”what?”

now both of you are puzzled.

you? dating someone?

”i just wanted to give you space,” chris reiterated, hand now awkwardly resting on his equally red nape, “figured you’d want that since me being around will likely bring trouble for you and the person you were dating.”

”but… i haven’t dated anyone since we became friends?”

you’re thoroughly confused.

”wait, what?” chris shook his head in disbelief, “what do you mean you haven’t dated anyone? what about the notes? and the flowers? and the chocolates too! what do you—what do you mean?”

nevermind, now you’re thoroughly confused.

”the ones from back in college?” your memories were not exactly as clear as you expected it to be, but you do remember receiving those gifts a few times due to its absurdity. “that was all from the rich ass kid i tutored! the one who i told you kept teasing me about never receiving any valentine's day gift? that kid? they sent me those gifts as a prank!”

“…what?”

the amount of ‘what’ you two have said in the past few exchanges is ridiculous.

”god—you thought i’ve been dating and never told you?” you finally pieced the puzzle together, incredulous. “and that’s why you distanced yourself? dude, are you serious?”

”well i just assumed!” chris raised his hands in defense, equally as incredulous as you are, “to be fair, those are usually gifts you get for someone you like! how am i supposed to know it’s from the kid you tutored? you never tried to told me!”

”you could’ve asked?” you stated, as-a-matter-of-factly. sometimes, despite that brilliant brain of his, chris could be quite the foolish one between the two of you. “besides, i thought you knew! you literally read the cards!”

”wha—how do you expect me to digest any of that when i was under the assumption someone i like is dating someone else!”

silence befalls chris’ usually cozy living room, leaving the soft resounding melody that hadn’t stopped as the only sound filling up the space. you’re not even sure if your ears were actually catching the right words falling from his lips; it felt too much like a fever dream. judging from the way his eyes turned wide, however,

you might have heard him correctly.

”you… like me?”

you never imagined you’d piece those words together, much less directing them towards chris. hell, even by remaining as friends was enough for you—having him to yourself was not something you thought would ever happen in this lifetime. you’re happy as you were; you’re content with being friends.

chris, on the other hand, is still visibly trying to digest the events that just unfolded around him. from the misunderstanding to unintentionally confessing his feelings, this was not how he expected his Sunday evening to be. all he wanted to do was be near the one person he’d been secretly nurturing his feelings for, praying that maybe one day he’d finally muster up the courage before everything was too late—but this was not how he expected things to turn out.

”i’m sorry,” he finally croaked, breaking the suffocating silence whilst also being too embarrassed to even look you in the eye, “i know it’s weird—from the misunderstanding to, you know, what i said. i never intended for you to find out about it this way. i understand that you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, you—“

”oh shut up,” you capped his ramblings short, catching chris off guard. it’s not often you cut him off when he speak, so when you do, he knew you meant it.

“just, what?” you sighed, fingers begin massaging the throb on your temple. it’s hard to decipher what you’re currently feeling as a whole, but one thing you know for sure— you’re especially bothered by his last statement.

“chris, how would you even know what i feel if you’ve never even asked me?”

you watched through his pair of curious eyes as thoughts ran inside his mind, slowly deciphering what you meant with the sudden calmness in your voice.

“uh,” finally managing the train of assumptions in his head, chris then looked at you—only now, with a glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes, “do you... like me? like, more than just friends?”

and to that, you finally nodded.

“yeah, you dumbass. for the longest time.”

watching the way chris’ smile bloom easily turned you into another smiling mess—not missing the giggles nor the flush on your cheeks and all. It feels dumb, realizing that you’ve been into each other for forever but never realizing it because of some stupid misunderstanding.

“and i like you too,” chris reiterated, his goofy smile erasing any trace of worry that was present on his face just a second ago. honest to god—you thought you were falling in love all over again for chris.

“in that case...” he shrugged before outstretching a hand, trying his best to play things cool despite the growing excitement in his eyes,

“will you officially be my partner in crime?”

sound of your laugh only fuels the warmth spreading within chris’ heart—and it felt like the way he spent all those countless nights, wishing that one day the stars would eventually align for him finally paid off as you held his hand in yours, smiling brighter than any stars ever discovered.

“gladly.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[effervescentdragon]

Carra whump is so underrated like I so desperately need a beat up Carra being tended to by Gnev. Bonus points if he was brawling defending Gnev’s honour.

i had a certain au in mind but that one isn't really ripe for picking in my mind, however i saw this art of yours this morning in between my slumbers and, well. i really hope you like this <3

"Gaz, lay off - lay off, shit - ow, ow, c'mon -"

"Carra, I swear to fuckin' God, shut the fuck up you baby, you brought this on ya self -"

"Youse could be a bit gentler -"

"Then move your head, I can't get to the cut and it's still fuckin' bleedin', 's not stoppin -"

"Ah, it's nothin'. Might leave a scar, though, how cool would that be, just -"

"Shut the fuck up, James!"

Jamie shuts up, because Gary actually yells at him, loud and proper. The breath he sucks in after is shaky, his lips pinched and his eyebrows furled, but when Jamie looks into his eyes, they're... they're huge, and Jamie doesn't know what that means.

"Gary?" Jamie says quietly, his burst lip opening up again. He feels it start to bleed again and he licks the iron, not wanting Gary to get even more upset. "Gary, lad, I'm -"

"Don't call me lad, I'm older than you." Gary scowls. The paper towel in his hand makes a reappearance, and Gary's touch is surprisingly gentle when he dabs against Jamie's lip.

"Not taller, though," Jamie says on reflex. He's had a growth spurt from one summer to the other in his teens, and now, at nineteen, he towers over Gary for the third year in a row.

Well, usually he towers over Gary. Not right this moment, though.

Now, he's sat on the edge of the tub in Gary's upstairs bathroom as Gary tries to deal with the mess that's Jamie's face after the fight. Gary himself hasn't been hurt; Gary hadn't even been there. He'd got to the alley just as that piece of shit John threw the final kick, and seeing Gary, him and his two friends gunned it out of there like there was no tomorrow. Gary'd screamed at them, fiery as always and fully prepared to beat up high school kids, if the furious way he was swearing was any indication, but Jamie'd tried to move and groaned in pain. That distracted Gary thoroughly and completely.

"They aren't aren't in," he explained as he half-dragged, half-carried Jamie to his Aunt's house. "They're with the kids, some camp this whole week and I came in earlier than I was supposed to. Aunt Linda left the key for me, thought I could use some alone time away from my folks on my break," he'd said. "I already hate this town and it hates me, how the fuck am I supposed to rest when the first thing I see is your arse being kicked by some kids?"

"There was three of them," Jamie had tried to protest, but Gary scowled at him and told him to shut up and sit hii ass down so he could see how badly he was hurt.

That brought them to this; Jamie sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Gary looking down at him after cleaning his face with some alcohol and gauze. Jamie's head hurts, and he's pretty sure there's something wrong with his ribs, but Gary is fretting and he is mad - maybe at Jamie, probably, he's always mad at Jamie these days - and he is so, so cute when he's all commanding and taking charge. Jamie understands why he's the captain of the Under 21s.

"Where else are you hurt?" Gary asks, his hand tracing Jamie's busted brow, as if unthinking of the action, and Jamie suddenly also understands that his adolescent crush might not have been as far away in the past as it used to be. "Tell me."

Jamie's left hand is on Gary's waist. He's acutely aware of that fact, because he grabbed onto Gary for support when Gary started cleaning his face. He wants to hold on, but he makes himself let go.

"I'm fine, leave it. You fixed me up as well as possible, and I'll be -"

"Jamie." Jamie stops, again, because Gary doesn't call him Jamie anymore, not like before, when Jamie was fourteen and Gary was seventeen and the best football player Jamie knew and a friend and larger than life. These days it's all wrong, or it feels like it's all wrong. It's Carra when he's in a good mood and James when he's mad, and Jamie doesn't know what to do with this, or with the soft little, "Please."

He looks up at Gary. He's still larger than life, somehow. His eyes are still huge and a beautiful brown colour.

"My ribs," he says, equally quietly. "That cunt got a kick in at the end, and I don't think they're broken -"

"Take off your shirt."

Jamie tries not to react, but the tone Gary uses and the words, put together... Jamie's acutely aware he's not looking at Gary and that his face feels hot as he obeys. He's slow in taking of his dirty shirt. It's red, so at least the blood doesn't show. He drops it on the floor and closes his eyes as Gary bends over, then goes on his knees in front of Jamie to better look at his ribs.

Jamie takes one look down and shuts his eyes tightly enough he sees spots playing in the darkness behind his lids.

Cold fingers press against his skin. "Does this hurt?" Jamie shakes his head, and Gary continues pressing until he finds the place that makes Jamie wince. "That's what I thought. I don't think they're broken, but ya gotta take it easy for a while."

Jamie nods. Gary's fingers are warming up on Jamie's skin. "Aye, captain," he tries to put some scorn in his tone, but he knows it all comes out wrong. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

He hears Gary shuffling and huffing. His breathing is erratic and he leans on Jamie's thigh in support as he gets up. Jamie forces himself to open his eyes.

Mistake. Gary is staring at him like he wants to see inside Jamie's mind. "Why were you fighting?" he asks. His shirt is white. There's dirt on one side, in the shape of Jamie's fingertips. Jamie knows how soft the material is, and how soft Gary's waist is under it.

"They were talkin' shit," Jamie says. It's cold in the bathroom, but he's running hot. "I couldn't let them get away with it."

Gary rolls his eyes. "You talk shit, Carra, you should know how it goes. The fuck did they say to you to make ya think it's a good idea to fight three of them?"

"There were only two when I threw the first punch," Jamie corrects, and Gary lets out a giggle.

"You're an idiot," he says, and there is a little smile in the corner of his mouth that he can't hide. "You could've got seriously hurt, and then what? You'd lose the place in the squad, you just wrote me they're letting you debut for the first team, you idiot! Nothing they said is worth missing that shot, James, I told you to keep your temper, I told you it'll get ya into trouble, and I was right, look at your face now, all busted up -"

"What, am I not handsome anymore?" Jamie grins, his lip hurting like hell but worth it to see Gary scowl again. "I'm still the handsomest bastard youse've seen -"

"Bastard is right, ya' idiot, to miss a chance because of fightin' -"

"But hadsome? Rugged, wouldn't ye say -"

"I'd said it a million times and I'mma say it again, only an idiot would risk the first team for fightin' -"

"Well I was fighting for ye honour, so catch me doing that again when all it gets me is bein' called an idiot!"

Jamie doesn't think when he says it. Him and Gary had always bantered, quick as whips both of them, and Jamie had always enjoyed it a bit too much to truly think about all the shit he's saying when he's winding Gary up.

"My - what?" Gary looks like someone's struck him. "My honour? What the fuck're you talkin' 'bout?"

Jamie says nothing. He's got nothing to say, or at least nothing that won't break something between him and Gary. It's all wrong these days, with Gary staring for United and Jamie on his way to be starting for Liverpool. There's a difference, a distance there ever since he switched from blue to red. It's not something they've ever talked about but... Jamie remembers. He remembers kids in red jerseys surrounding Gary, big kids, bigger than Gary was back then and much bigger than Jamie. He remembers the taunts and the words that his Ma told him never to repeat if he doesn't want her to wash his mouth out with soap. He remembers Gary's look when Jamie kicked the ball back to him on the playground, and how his frown disappeared when he saw his blue jersey when Jamie was eleven. He remembers the frown deepening when Jamie came to their playground in a red jersey for the first time.

"James," Gary says, and both his voice and his eyes are serious. "What did they say?"

Jamie clenches his fists. "Nothing, Gaz. Leave it alone, I didn't mean to say it, just ignore me."

Gary is still looking at him, and Jamie hates how fucking beautiful Gary's eyes are. Hates how much he likes when Gary smiles, lines appearing around them when he laughs at Jamie's stupid jokes. Hates how fragile Gary looks in the bad bathroom lights, like Jamie could break him with one word. Hates how much he wants to feel how that stupid barely-there moustache would feel against his skin. Hates how he knows they don't have that much time anymore, to fuck around with the ball every summer like they've been doing so far. Hates that he knows a darby is inevitable. Hates how he can recognize Gary's smell, even over the alcohol and the blood. Hates how much he just - wants.

Gary furrows his brows, then seems to decide on something. He lets the dirty towel fall on the floor as he steps closer between Jamie's legs, and the movement startles Jamie so much he grabs for Gary's waist with both hands this time. He swallows, grasping onto the white shirt, his breathing a lot heavier.

Gary's hand is shaking when he brings it down to trace the bruise on Jamie's cheek he can feel forming. "Jamie," Gary says, and it isn't fair, how much that one word affects him. "Jamie, were you defending me? Is that why you got hurt?"

Jamie swallows around his dry throat again. His whole body is hurting. His whole body feels like he's on fire. He can feel Gary's heat over the material of the shirt, where his fingers press down.

"I'm no prince charming," he says, stupidly, nonsensically. Gary smiles, and Jamie's startled to realise he hasn't seen that kind of smile on Gary in a while.

"No, you aren't," Gary says. His other hand rests on Jamie's shoulder. "But you're pretty charming, all ruggedly handsome, you."

Jamie tears his eyes away from Gary's lips to look into his eyes. It feels too hot in the little bathroom. Gary's fingers splay across Jamie's neck. It feels like the whole world is pausing. Jamie feels like he can't breathe. He tightens his hold on Gary's waist, maybe pulls him closer. He doesn't really know. None of this makes sense.

Turns out, he can breathe.

He takes the next breath right from Gary's lips, soft and hesitant and hotter than anything he's ever felt before. The angle is awkward but he realises he can hug Gary close and -

"- for fuck's sake Jamie, I can taste blood, I busted your lip, sorry -"

"Nah," Jamie grins, opening his eyes. "Fuck it. Bust it again," he says, and pulls Gary in.

[theweirdwideweb]

Apologies in advance if this comes off as rude- I just can't figure out how to word it right.

What is the point of getting diagnosed with ADHD or anything similar as an adult? How did it help you?

I strongly believe that I have either ADHD, autism, OCD or some combination of them. (Or possibly even something else I haven't considered. The one thing I'm certain of is that something is Off with me) But I feel like it's too late, since I really needed to be diagnosed as a child and have specialized assistance to help with my schoolwork and train me in coping mechanisms to help with my adult life.

But now I feel like it's too late to do anything because I've already spent my entire life unconsciously masking and having to do 5x the work just to appear "normal" and I believe it's too late to unlearn these things that have been hardwired into my personality my entire life. The one place that would've been beneficial to have a diagnosis is school, but I'm out of school and I don't plan on going back.

You would think work would be the one place that having a diagnosis would actually help, but the management at my job is very toxic and I feel like they would take advantage of my new diagnosis. Even though that is not legal, I fully believe management would find a way to fuck with me or take advantage of me without making it obvious.

There is a small part of me that would like to be diagnosed just to have the satisfaction of being like "holy shit I KNEW there was something wrong with me" but that satisfaction would last like 10 seconds and then wtf do I do?

(I don't know why I was never diagnosed as a child. My mom has several stories that clearly illustrate classic neurodivergent symptoms and regularly nags at me for being "difficult" for never showing emotions, having aversion to too many textures, not picking up on social cues, being too agitated by unwanted noises yet never put 2 and 2 together)

A couple thoughts: I was diagnosed at 34, but had no clue until that point. A diagnosis helped me understand many things about myself, both past and present. As a kid I was constantly humiliated for my symptoms by parents and peers. Now I can look back and know I was doing my best, even though I was diagnosed "lazy" and "bad" and "ungrateful" by my parents. I'd chalked my school difficulties, social problems, and uncoordinated body up to a moral failing. Now I understand so much more.

On the more practical side I started taking stimulant medication. Everything got easier. In therapy I started to understand what's my CPTSD and what's neurodivergence (and what's both!). I have gained tremendous self understanding. It helps me navigate the world with less discomfort.

I've also been going to group and individual DBT therapy for the past 7 months. So much of DBT is aimed at trauma survivors and neurodivergent people. It helps bring your awareness to unhelpful thought patterns and gives you practical tips on how to snap out of an obsessive thought or sensory overload state.

tl;dr Medical help is available to you in many forms once you receive a diagnosis. I'd much rather know. It's shaped my understanding of myself both past and present. I've never regretted getting tested. As a matter of fact tomorrow I have my 1st round of Bipolar testing. Know thyself!

[ghost-proofbaby]

modern!steve harrington + mine cause i just KNOW he’d love that song and daydream about a future with his girl listening to it 😭💜

mine (steve's version)

warnings: hurt/comfort, my fingers slipped and put angst

wc: 2.1k+

an: okay i completely goofed here and made this far angstier than you wanted, and did not realize until AFTER it was done. 😭 i'm gonna apply the same logic as miss swift does with surprise songs - since i technically messed up, if you'd like a redo with more sweetness, let me know and i've got you haha 😭 i also just processed you wanted him to listen to the song and that image broke my brain so basically what i'm saying is this one will definitely get a redo haha sorry nonnie <3

It had all started over a stupid fight. A fight that he didn’t even recall how it had started. That’s how stupid it had been. 

Steve had been tired, coming home from a long shift at the diner. It had been a shit show for the entirety of the twelve hours that Steve had been there, instantly making him regret pulling a double to cover one of his coworkers who called claiming they had a fever, but that he’d definitely seen posting on their stories about being out for drinks very late the night before. But he wasn’t going to tell his boss that — he’d been there. One too many beers on one of his rare free nights with friends, and he too would call out, claiming something along the lines of food poisoning. 

He wasn’t fully lying. That much alcohol probably had poisoned him considering the way he felt like death the next morning.

The coworker wasn’t what had him in a sour mood, though. Nor was it the one elderly couple that had kept trying to have terribly long conversations with him when he knew he had food to run. Nor was it that obnoxiously large group of preteens that seemed to have no self awareness as they’d reeked absolute havoc on the diner for the final hour before closing. No, none of that really phased Steve anymore — he was just tired. He was tired, a bit too easily irritated, and just wanted to sleep. 

His plans for the night had been crawling into bed with you, watching some TV show or movie he wouldn’t pay attention to with his head in your lap as your fingers would scratch soothingly at his scalp. His plans for the night didn’t include this fight. If he could have stopped, God only knows he would have.

“They’re going to shut off the water, Steve,” you stress, on the verge of tears at this point. Steve didn’t know if they were from stress, exasperation with him, or if you were hurting from how flippant he’d been since he walked through the door. Regardless, it didn’t matter; seeing you misty-eyed twisted the knife in his chest all the same, “What the fuck are we going to do if they do that? This isn’t something to talk about tomorrow.”

“They’re not going to turn it off tonight!” he shouts right back at you, throwing his hands into the air in defeat, “Fuck, I- what do you want me to do about it? What can I do about it tonight?” 

You snap your mouth shut at that, lips pressed tightly to avoid any quivering. 

“I just worked twelve fucking hours, I just wanted to come home and relax, I’m not in the mood-“

“You’re never in the mood,” you flatly interrupt him, tone a stark contrast to all the overwhelming emotions prominent on your face. Your voice doesn’t even waver — he knows that whatever you’re about to say, it’s been on your mind a while, “It’s always we’ll talk about this tomorrow, or we’ll figure it out. But we never talk about it. We never figure it out, Steve. We can’t just- You don’t think I’m tired, too?” 

His heart breaks a little. You’re right. You’re standing there, still in your scrubs from your own twelve hour shift, and fuck, you’re right. 

Things hadn’t ever been easy. Back in high school, there had been the issue of Steve’s parents. After graduation, it had been the terrible decisions of what now. When you two had decided to pack up and get the Hell out of town, it had been the stress of finally dealing with all the uncertainty, all while desperately trying to keep afloat amongst stacks of bills and adult responsibilities neither of you had expected to drown in. Things had never been easy, but Steve didn’t care about easy — he just cared that you’d always been there, by his side, on his team. 

Right now, it didn’t feel like you and him versus the world. For the first time, it feels like there’s only you two in the boxing ring. 

“This isn’t a competition, we’re… we’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

There it was — your voice cracks, and the moment the first tear falls from your eyes, you’re quick to reach up and swipe it away, pretending it never happened. Pretending that one tear wasn’t ripping Steve apart from the inside out.

“It’s not a competition! But Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m suffocating-“

“I’m suffocating you?” the tears are falling more freely, and you make no move to erase them. 

That’s not what he meant. At all. He’s only making it all worse. So, so much worse.

“I-“ he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

In an instant, his hands go from threading and angrily tugging at his hair to flaring at his side as he suddenly walks sharply down the hallway. He’s making a beeline for your shared bedroom, doing the only thing he can think of to fix this for you. For tonight, at least.

You’re quick to follow, only two steps behind him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m-“ he pauses, yanking a random drawer open to the dresser, finding himself staring at a pile of your clothes rather than his own. He huffs through frustration and his own building tears, “I’m gonna stay at Eds’ tonight. Give you some space.” 

“Give me space?” you laugh back in disbelief, not daring to take any more steps closer to him, “You’re the one who’s being suffocated-“

“You’re not suffocating me,” he stops all movement, hand still on the knob of his drawer. He turns to you suddenly, a new found confidence, “That’s- That’s not what I meant, okay?” 

He can’t make this right, but he can’t leave you thinking that’s what he meant. You could never suffocate him — and even if you tried, he’d find it to be the most heavenly way to die. But you didn’t know that, not in this moment, and that was what was currently killing him.

You take a deep breath, one step forward, before asking quietly, “What did you mean, then?” 

One last chance. An opportunity to make this right.

“You could never suffocate me,” all the shouting and the frustration has vanished, only softness and hurt left in their places, “Ever. Don’t you ever think for one moment that it’s you. It’s not, okay? I love you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, you are-“ he chokes up, looking into your glossy eyes. He can still recall the way he felt all those years ago when they’d first laid eyes on him. He’s memorized the way it felt, because every time you look at him, it still manages to feel like the very first time, “You are everything to me. You’re- Fuck, honey, you’re my entire future. When I think about the future, all I think about is you.” 

You take another step forward. Steve’s own tears now track his own face, his heart racing painfully.

“I love you so fucking much, it’s crazy. And I just- I feel like I’m fucking all of this up. You deserve more than this, and I try to give it to you, but I can’t-“

“That doesn’t all fall on you, Steve,” your hands shake as you lift them, finally close enough to touch him. Each palm rests delicately on his chest and you can’t look him in the eyes, “I don’t want you for your money. Never have, never will.” 

He laughs wetly. You’ve more than proven that. When his parents cut him off completely, you hadn’t blinked an eye. 

“I want you because I love you. I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. Okay? I’m so in love with you, I followed you across the goddamn country.” 

“Eddie and Robin did too, to be fair,” he reminds you, almost jokingly. All the tension from the fight is quickly fading. His hand drops from the drawer. 

“They did, but I guarantee I love you more than them,” you scrunch your nose, almost grimacing before adding, “No offense to them, of course.” 

“Of course,” he echoes, slowly reaching up and holding your hands that had been pressed to his chest. You don’t pull back.

“I’m just- it’s stressful. We’re both stressed. Neither of us were prepared for this,” you look him desperately in his eyes, “I meant what I said, though. This isn’t me versus you — I never want it to be us fighting each other. It’s always us versus the problem, okay?” 

He nods when you wait patiently for his response, “Okay.” 

“And I want you here,” you continue, “I want you here, in our home and in our bed. I want you here, even screaming back and forth with me, as long as you’re here. With me. Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.” 

You smile through the residual tears, squeezing his hands that hold yours. 

Steve thinks about all the examples of love he’d ever been shown. His parents, in a castle of ice. The way the fights always ended in separate rooms, sometimes separate houses. His father storming out to spend the night in a hotel rather than having to be around his mother a second longer. He remembers the way that even with an abundance of money, they were never happy. They never loved each other. A marriage of convenience rather than love. Lasting only out of obligation, not dedication. 

He didn’t want that with you. He couldn’t ever imagine what the two of you have being reduced to that.

When he looks at you, all he can see is happiness. All he can feel is that love bursting from his chest. Images of the two of you by Lover’s Lake, the way the waves of the lake had sent shattered and sparkling flares of light across your cheeks as you’d laughed at him as if he was the funniest person in the entire world. All the nights spent over the phone, talking about nothing and everything, desperate to just fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voices. The ridiculous nerves he’d felt on the first date, King Steve shaking at the thought of putting his arm around you because for the first time, he was truly scared of fucking this up. 

You made him a better man. You saw everything inside of him that was broken, that he had spent so long trying to hide, and you’d simply sat down beside him with glue in hand, prepared to spend as much time as he needed to piece it all back together. 

Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart,” he finally sighs. Your face starts to fall, but he’s quick to clarify, “I can’t go to bed mad at you. Ever. And we can fight, us versus the problem like you said, all we want but… I don’t want to go to bed mad. I don’t want… I don’t want that. Whenever my head hits that shitty pillow every night,” you both break to laugh, because God, you both really did need new pillows (and a mattress, if you were being honest), “All I want to know is that you’re mine and I’m yours. Sound fair?” 

You smile, and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. It makes all the long shifts worth it as you nod slowly, “Sounds fair to me.” 

“Good,” he guides the two of you to the center of the room before he drops your hands from his, sighing and letting his shoulders finally drop, “Then in that case, I’m staying.” 

Even with crying tears on your cheeks, you’re still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. You’re still the best thing Steve Harrington has ever had the privilege of calling his, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. So if we’re gonna fight — let’s fight, baby.” 

He puts his fists up comically, and you only giggle and grab at them, shaking your head.

“I think we've fought enough for one night,” you mumble, bringing one fist to your mouth, kissing each of his knuckles gently. 

Once you’ve placed your final kiss, he quickly placed the hand beneath your chin, lifting your lips to his. He kisses you in quick succession, and between each one, he repeats the sincerest I’m sorry he can muster. 

He only stops once you’re smiling too wide for him to continue. 

After his lips leave yours one last time, pulling back slowly as he savors it and you, he finally sighs, “I am curious, though — what the Hell are we going to do if they do shut off the water?” 

You shrug, “Like you said, we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

“Or we can use Eddie and Robin’s shower.” 

“Or we can use Eddie and Robin’s shower.” 

As it turns out, Steve Harrington was wrong — when it comes to you, he can always fix things. 

"brace myself for the goodbye, 'cause it's all i've ever known. then you took me by surprise, you said 'i'll never leave you alone'."

[thelostgirl21]

I wish there was a way to clearly say:

I'm personally comfortable being called a "woman", only because I have the sexual dimorphism typically associated with a female of the human species, and that's how other people see me as when they look at my physical appearance; nothing more.

While making 100% sure not to accidentally bring any harm to the trans community, or making it sound like one's gender identity should always match their physical appearance, when that's far from being the case.

Because, until very recently, I'd always been calling myself "a girl", or "a woman" exclusively based on how I physically look.

To me, defining myself as "a woman", has always been the equivalent of describing an external characteristic of my body that others are able to see.

- I'm a woman.

- I'm 5'7''.

- I have brown eyes.

- etc.

It's always been exactly the same to me. It's what you can physically see, not who I am.

Somehow, it's like I completely forgot to develop a sense of personal identity tied to "being a woman" while I was growing up.

I could wake up tomorrow with a body that has the sexual dimorphism of a male of my species instead, have everyone call me a man and suddenly have to live my life as one, and I'd have only ONE problem with it.

Just the one.

My partner is a heterosexual man, so that would be a challenge.

But otherwise, I think I'd just be really curious to explore the physiological differences between my prior body and my new body, and then move on with my life without changing a single thing to the things I like, my behavior in general, personal interests, probably the way I like to dress, too, etc.

I'd just be "looking more masculine" while doing it.

It would be like having blonde short hair instead of my current brown long hair.

The rest of the world would treat me differently as a man, sure! But that wouldn't reflect how I identify or feel inside about who I am.

Just how others now see me as and choose to socially treat me.

My gender, to me, is something that's always existed outside of myself.

I have no personal use for it, nor is it a part of my personality.

I guess I've often been gender-non-conforming, too, not because I was attempting to rebel against my own gender, felt a need to distance myself from the binary, or anything... But just because I've never seen the point of it.

I've had boyfriends telling me that it was like I wanted to be the "man in the relationship", and being upset that I wasn't letting them play their role at times (that hasn't really been an issue with women, oddly enough); and I broke up with them without looking back, because what the fuck was that even supposed to mean?

I wasn't trying to behave like a man or a woman, I was just being myself, and adopting the social roles and behaviors I'm comfortable with. If you can't love me as I am, then what am I supposed to do?

Younger, I've had little boys back at school telling me that "it was weird for a girl to like certain things or express herself a certain way", and my response has always pretty much been to shrug, go "guess I'm a weird girl then", and then continue doing things my way.

(Yes, I'm aware that I've been very privileged to live in a world where I've merely been occasionally bullied or suffered verbal micro-agressions for ignoring the social standards set for "little girls"... Then again, I've probably embraced some of them!

I loved playing with my "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe set", or walking around with a lightsaber pretending to be Luke Skywalker... But I was cool with "My Little Poney" (the originals) and "Rainbow Bright", too!

Like I said, I wasn't trying to be "non-conforming", I just liked whatever I liked!

I was also lucky enough that my parents fully allowed me to go for what I enjoyed in terms of toys, games, activities, playmates, etc., regardless of gender.

And my physical appearance as a child occasionally had people mistaking me for a boy. So, perhaps, the other adults that saw me behave as one in public assumed I was one, and thus put less pressure on me to behave in a way that would have been deemed more "feminine" than "masculine".

By the point I really started looking more "feminine" (like I do now), I guess I'd moved past caring about it, and/or had reached a point where it made no sense to me that it would suddenly have been upsetting that I occasionally behaved "as a boy" or enjoyed "boy things" now when, until then, it had always been perfectly fine and well accepted that I did!

I guess there's something to be said about the influence of early socialisation, and how adults in the social environment of a child respond to a young child's gender, in the level of importance they might instinctively give to it later on.)

Like, I'm pretty sure that, if I were to ask you to determine my gender based on my looks alone (while fully giving you permission to do it), especially when I'm performing on stage wearing makeup, you'd go "you're a woman!" with a fair level of confidence!

But that's just it! To me that's just the way I look. A stylistic choice based on the way my body chose to develop, if you will.

What drives me nuts, though, is that I have zero problem empathizing with the trans community and their need to express their own gender identity, because I know what it feels like to need to be seen and respected as one's authentic self!

You tell me you identify as a woman, a man, agender, genderfae, etc., and/or feel a need to express it? Be yourself, and rock that gender! It is who you are, and it is your right to own it!

The fact that I feel like I don't have any particular use or need for gender doesn't mean that it can't be important for others, and that they don't have a use or need for it themselves.

Just because I don't intimately understand it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't matter. It doesn't mean that I can't support, and actively advocate for proper gender recognition and respect in schools and other public places.

I "get it" without "getting it", if you will.

The problem, however, is that I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea that, if I identify as a "woman", people will assume that it means more to me than "I physically look female".

That it will be assumed that I emotionally and psychologically connect with my gender, and feel a need to express it, or a sense of attachment and belonging to the woman gender.

After having called the way my physical body "looks" to others on the outside "being a woman" for decades, it's hard for me to suddenly go "being a woman is not the same as passing for a woman, it's about the gender you identify with inside..." and stop calling myself a woman, because I feel like I've no gender identity inside of myself.

But "agender" doesn't quite feel right to me, either, because I'd never had any problem with the idea of being a woman, until I learned that I was supposed to give a damn about being a woman, and personally connect with my gender, that is.

And "gender non-conforming" doesn't sound quite right, either, because I'm not trying to avoid conforming to the woman gender, or expressing a different gender than the one that was assigned to me at birth.

They basically gave me a gender based on my genitalia when I was born, and I went "Yeah, sure! I guess I can look the part... Why not?"; while ignoring the whole social instructions booklet and guidelines that went with it.

So lately, every time someone has asked me what my gender is, or what gender I identify with, I've had a tendency to freeze, panic, and mentally go:

Like the idea of my having a gender makes no internal sense to me. It's not something I can relate to, "vibe with", or identify with.

Is there a way to respectfully say "I'm calling myself a woman for convenience's sake, because that's the gender traditionally associated with the way I look, and I'm okay with having grown into a feminine appearance by default? But please, don't assume it means anything to me beyond that, or expect me to behave, dress, or do anything according to the woman gender."

I've been using "gender apathetic" in an attempt to convey it, but is that really what it means, and how most people understand it?

Basically, I feel like my answers to these questions would be:

- What physical look do you most resemble? Woman / feminine / female.

- What gender do you identify with? None.

- Do you feel comfortable being called a woman, and her / she pronouns, based on the way you look? Yes.

How do you freaking call or define that?

Non-internalized cisgenderism?

[goodluckclove]

How Clove Gardener Writes (an Overview)

I definitely told myself when I started this blog a billion years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, that I wouldn't make any attempt to tell you how to write. You know - other than saying just do it do the thing write it close the blog open the document type type three sentences bam look you did it good job i love you now go get yourself a treat.

But I've spoken to a few writers who seem to benefit from the insight of me just explaining how I write. So I thought I'd give a little peek into my own mindset. I cannot stress enough that this is what works for me. It's a methodology that I've built up over the course of like fifteen years of trying different things, keeping what works, and throwing the rest right out the goddamned window.

If any of this seems new and appealing give it a try. If it doesn't help I'm wrong and bad as a person (no I'm kidding but seriously if it doesn't work that's fine and we're both fine). If it helps you owe me a picture of a frog drawn from memory.

Let's see how long I ramble. Follow me under the read more!

Okay, so let's get this out of the way. I've never taken a writing class. No, that's not true. I took one when I was thirteen and another one in high school and I don't remember anything either of them taught me. Oh and I took an online creative writing class in college, but I also didn't retain anything and the next year I dropped out of college. So I also don't have a degree in jack shit.

What else? I don't outline. I've written upwards of 15 novels (13-15, I honestly can't remember) and I did not outline any of them. This includes character sheets and worldbuilding lore. My first published novel Blind Trust was born from the concept of the Lover's Knot, which is just like some witchy magic lore. I thought it would be cool so I was like "who could maybe be some guys" and then I introduced some guys and then bam 180k later it was Scott and Edgar.

I do virtually no preparation to write a novel other than the vaguest premise and maybe like one cool scene. I did not have a cool scene for Blind Trust, but I do have one for Migration Patterns. What I don't have is an ending. I don't think I've ever written a novel knowing how it ends.

Literally here's what I do. This is all I do. I sit down and I write until I don't know what's going to happen next, at which point I step away and I listen to some music or I go to the museum or I take a nap until I decide how to continue. That's it.

For me it's going to the zoo every day and seeing the monkeys. And every day they're doing something different. Sometimes they're sleeping, or they're pawing at each other, or they're gathering sticks. I can call out to them and offer to show them a card trick or share my Bugles with them, and they might come up to the wall of the enclosure to see what I'm doing. Or they might not. I do not really have control of the situation, but it doesn't matter because they aren't fully aware of me.

At some point either I have to leave the zoo for some reason. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe the monkeys have been pulled in to be fed their lunch (it's bananas and peanuts). Either way I add that day's behavior to the pile and then come back tomorrow.

Once I find an ending I go back and I read through the book again and trim any fat that's in the wrong places while adding flesh to some naked bones. Then I wait a week or more (usually I can only wait a week) and go back and do it again. By that point it's ready to hopefully have someone read it, after which I make small edits and tweaks.

That's how I do it. Or at least, that's how I do it for longform prose projects that I plan to publish. I've written plenty of novels that just stayed first drafts because I didn't feel like revising them and then I moved on to the next one. I don't regret that. I don't consider it a waste of time.

I would never consider a trip to the zoo a waste of time.

Anyways, that's what works for me. I don't know if all of this will apply to other brains. I don't know if any of it will. I figure it might just be useful to get an in-depth look at what I personally vibe with.

I'm so down to talk writing at any time, by the way. I love to do it. Tell me why you aren't writing and I would be happy to listen and try to help. Or just brainstorm. Seriously, my DMs and inbox are perpetually open. Talking about writing is one of my favorite things to do.

Let's go look at some monkeys together.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 3: A Tale of Our Own

Summary:

Hob tours Morpheus around the bookfair, and they spend their time browsing stories together and talking about which ones they're particularly fond of.

Later on, it appears that people who go to bookfairs are drawn to the Prince of Stories, and Hob's mind recalls the night when a certain playwright caught Morpheus' attention. But unlike in 1589, Hob now has an idea about what he can do to get that attention back...

Word Count: 5,591

Rating: Explicit

Author's Note:

If you want to skip the explicit scene, stop reading at "Morpheus’ eyes turned into galaxies" and continue again at "Hob vaguely felt a shimmer of magic".

(more notes at the end)

———

Dream had been aware of the existence of bookfairs, in theory. He had never been to one. Now, as he stood in the middle of it breathing in the scent of books, seeing the daydreams of aspiring writers and avid readers, he decided that it was the type of event he would like to frequent.

“There you are.”

Dream recognized the voice behind him before he even turned to look. He smiled. Something he had found himself doing quite a lot recently.

“Here I am,” he told Hob as he faced him. Dream remembered Hob's remark yesterday about how their dean often wanted them to dress handsomely in school events, and Hob certainly followed that.

“I knew I would find you here.” The corners of Hob's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“In the fiction section?”

“The stories section. Are we standing in the middle of your creations, Your Highness?” Hob asked playfully as he looked around at the shelves.

Dream turned to Hob curiously; his friend had never called him by such a moniker before.

Hob grinned at him. “Did a little research on your name last night when I got home. I'm in the presence of the Prince of Stories, correct?”

“A little research?” 

“Alright, a lot of research,” Hob admitted. “I just found out your name after more than 600 years, can you blame me for wanting to know more?”

Dream would normally disagree with the prospect of someone going to lengths to find out information about him, but as always Hob was the exception. “There would be plenty of time to get to know each other more deeply from now on.”

Hob's daydreams tugged at the corner of his mind, calling for his attention. Dream caught a glimpse of them having breakfast together, walking along the university grounds, falling asleep on the couch in front of the television.

He cleared his throat—a gesture he learned that humans do to interrupt another's train of thought. “Hob, you should know that when you think of me while we are so near each other, I can see your thoughts even if I do not intend to.”

Hob blinked in realization and chuckled. “Right. Well, I don't hear you complaining.”

Dream's lips curved into a teasing smile at Hob's playful tone. “There is no reason to; I fully intend to fulfill all of your daydreams. And then some.”

Hob's cheeks colored a shade of red, and he winked as he said, “I'll hold you to that.”

Dream chuckled, to his own surprise. Hob, however, looked pleased at the noise he had made.

He felt his face warm and opted to change the subject. “What else did you wish to know about me?” he inquired, having decided that he would no longer avoid Hob's attempts to know him better.

“Oh, um…” Hob seemed caught off-guard. “These books, are any of them inspired by you in particular? Did you have a direct influence on them?”

Dream tilted his head ever so slightly. “That is what you wish to know?” He had been prepared for more personal questions, aware as he was that Hob's curiosity knew no bounds.

Hob nodded, a fond smile on his face. “I wanna know what stories you like to write. Come on,” he took Dream’s hand and pulled him to the nearest bookshelf.

Dream glanced down at their intertwined fingers. In centuries past, his friend—though they were much more than that now—would never have attempted such a gesture so casually. A pleasant warmth bloomed within him at the knowledge that Hob felt comfortable enough in their new relationship as to lace their hands together in public.

“Oh, this one has your name on it,” Hob stopped in front of a shelf where a book called The Dreamcatcher Battalion was displayed.

“Ah, yes.” Dream recognized the title immediately. The illustration on the cover featured a group of four children on a flying chariot against the backdrop of a night sky; two of them wore an expression of adventurous determination, while the other two were grinning excitedly. “The author of this one grew up experiencing night terrors, and so she wrote a book about children who have the power to go into other people’s dreams and help them through their nightmares.”

Hob looked mildly surprised before smiling. “And I suppose you inspired that idea by helping her through her own night terrors?”

“I simply kept watch to make sure that the nightmares did not go far beyond their purpose; an overabundance of fear could break the mind rather than help it learn. She must have felt my presence in some way, and it led her to express the same feeling of security through these magical children. She has learned well.”

Hob turned to the book cover with a thoughtful expression. “Does it ever feel that way for you, like it’s an adventure?”

“It is my function; it was never meant to be something for me to detest nor take pleasure in.”

Hob looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Okay… But how do you feel about it? Right now?”

Dream blinked and turned his gaze to the book once more, looking at the illustrated faces of the characters who have sworn to protect dreamers from the worst of their fears. He felt a twinge of wistfulness at the knowledge that those children had each other’s company at every dream they visit, every nightmare they tame. Never had they had to make the nightly journey alone.

Then a certain librarian’s face appeared in his memory; the one who had watched over his realm even through his unexplained absence of more than a century. Lucienne was first to greet him upon his return, and had remained unwaveringly loyal through his changes in temperament.

And there was Matthew, his raven who had gone with him to Hell despite only being acquainted with him for a few hours at most. His companion who, instead of escaping to save himself, chose to stay and help Dream win the battle against the Morningstar.

“I… feel that I do like my work. Now. Seeing humans bring to life the things they dream of… It is inspiring. Whether the source is a nightmare they learned from or an idea that they dearly wanted to share with the world, I am honored to have been able to help in my own way.”

Hob was staring at him with an expression that he could only describe as fondness, though Dream wasn't certain he understood why Hob would look at him so. “It is wonderfully brilliant, isn't it? I'm glad I took the time to learn my letters at that printing business ages ago. Otherwise I might have missed out on all of this,” he gestured at the books surrounding them. “D’you see any favourites?”

Dream turned his gaze to the bookshelf at the far wall and sensed a particular story. “It would be difficult to pick a singular favourite, but there is one that had caught my attention at the time the idea was born.” He led Hob over to the shelf, silently elated by the fact that walking hand-in-hand with Hob was something that he could initiate now.

They stopped in front of a novel with an illustrated cover of two princes on either side of a princess, showing her various gifts.

“The Suitors’ Quest,” Hob read the title. “Seems like one of those classic fairytale tropes, though for it to have caught your attention I'm guessing there's something more to it?”

Dream nodded. “The story begins with the princes competing for the hand of the fair princess, aye. Then the lady gets taken hostage by the enemy kingdom, and the two rivals must work together to rescue her. They successfully do so, but along the way, they had discovered that who they truly loved was each other, and so neither desired the princess’ hand any longer.”

Hob's eyes had widened in surprise. “And… what, they get together by the end?”

“And live happily ever after,” Dream felt his lips turn up in a smile that Hob readily returned.

“Was it the unorthodox aspect that caught your attention?”

Dream paused for a moment before answering. “That book was published not too long after I had spurned you in 1889. I had thought perhaps… if I had been nearly as brave as those princes in the story, I might have saved the both of us a lot of pain.”

Hob stared at him and ran his thumb soothingly across the back of Dream's hand. “You're here now, love,” he said gently. “And I'm no prince, but you've got about a hundred titles so maybe that makes up for it?”

Dream returned Hob's playful gaze. “There is nothing to make up for. Though perhaps some of my titles might surprise you.” He reached over to the next shelf and picked up a copy of Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.

Hob raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I am also what humans would call the King of Cats, and I felt the author's fondness of them in every poem of this collection.”

Hob looked at him with eyes wide with disbelief. “Is… Is that true, or is this your idea of a prank?”

Dream let his form flicker momentarily to that of the King of Cats; a feline with thick black fur and a long tail, as tall as Hob while seated on its hind legs.

It lasted for barely a second before he was back to his human form once more, but Hob's jaw had hinged open as he gaped at Dream.

“God's teeth…” he muttered.

Dream suddenly felt his shoulders tense. “Does it bother you?” he had not considered how Hob might react to finding out that not all his forms are humanoid.

Hob blinked. “What? Bother me?” he grinned. “Not at all, love! I had no idea you were such an adorable and fluffy thing, that's all.” He ruffled Dream's hair.

“I am neither of those,” Dream argued even as he felt his face warm and made no move to stop Hob from mussing up his hair.

“You are absolutely both of those,” Hob said as he retracted his hand and instead took the book from Dream. “Well. At least it's a different poet. Dunno if I wanna see any tributes to you by that wanker Shaxberd…”

“Hob,” Dream chided, feeling the corner of his lips twitch with amusement.

Hob made a face that was both petulant and playful. “He took you from me that night, I shan't ever forget it.”

Dream leaned closer to Hob and gazed right into his eyes. “No one can take me from you.”

Hob's cheeks had darkened and his voice had a slight tremor when he spoke. “R-Right.”

Dream felt the beginnings of daydreams form in Hob's mind, and he leaned away once more to prevent himself from looking into them or doing something to Hob which might border on public indecency.

“Shall we look around some more?”

Hob blinked himself back to his senses and grinned. “That's what we're here for, right? Come on, I'll show you some of the history books I saw earlier.” He began to pull Dream along down the aisles. “They got some things right and other things laughably inaccurate. We'll judge them together, you'll love it.”

***

They were in the graphic novels section when one of Hob’s students turned up.

“Hey, you like The Moomins too?”

Hob had been looking for a particular title on the shelves, and he turned around when he recognized the voice. He was about to say that he hadn’t read that series, but he realized that Jade wasn’t talking to him.

Morpheus was reading one of the volumes, and he glanced up at the question. “It is interesting.”

“Yeah!” Jade grinned and stepped closer to Morpheus, the overhead lights reflecting off the purple streaks in her hair. Her eyeliner was thicker than that of Morpheus himself, and her black lace-up boots put her at almost the same height as him.

Hob didn’t miss the way she seemed to be sizing up the Dream King.

The dean was prickly with outfits, and the bookfair felt to Hob like it would be his first date with Morpheus; he had been so preoccupied with choosing what to wear that he had hardly thought about how Morpheus would dress.

Morpheus’ unbuttoned grey jacket showed off how his turtleneck and skinny jeans hugged his figure at the right places, so Hob hardly blamed anyone for staring.

Hob himself was wearing a navy blazer over a blue button-up long-sleeved shirt, his grey pants were tailored, and he had picked his newest brown leather loafers. He felt quite good in the ensemble, especially when Morpheus’ eyes practically roamed all over him when they met up earlier.

He should have expected that Morpheus would be on the receiving end of a similar ogling.

“I grew up reading the Moomin books, and recently I’d been trying my hand at making comics. I find it easier to write stories when I draw the characters first.” Jade smiled at Morpheus in the same way she always did before she asked out a classmate; Hob had seen it a few times along the corridors.

“Jade, nice seeing you here,” he walked over to them and stood beside Morpheus.

He knew there was nothing to be jealous about, but that didn’t mean he liked seeing people flirt with his boyfriend.

“Professor Gadling!” Jade looked surprised to see him. “Hey! Is this your friend?” she nodded to Morpheus. “I was just about to ask him if he wanted to have coffee and maybe talk about comics?” She glanced expectantly at Morpheus.

Morpheus closed the graphic novel and gave his version of a polite smile. “I think not. I am in a relationship with Hob Gadling and would endeavor to remain so for the foreseeable future.”

Jade’s eyes widened as she looked back and forth between Hob and Morpheus. Then she grinned brightly. “Professor! You told us you were single!” she said in a playfully accusatory tone. “You didn’t share any relationship stories in class when the other professors did last Valentine’s day.”

Hob remembered how the students had cajoled the friendlier professors to share stories of their love lives at the party that was held at The New Inn. He just chuckled when it was his turn and said that he was married to the Inn, all the while thinking of the raven-haired fellow he built it for. He felt himself smile.

“I wasn’t lying, I really was single back then,” Hob said defensively.

“He was. I remedied it.”

Hob was not a person to get easily flustered, but the way that Morpheus smiled at him at that remark was positively sinful that it brought to mind just exactly how Morpheus had remedied it in his office yesterday. It brought up other things to mind too, but Hob clamped down on them before they could turn into full-fledged daydreams that his mind-reader of a boyfriend would be able to see.

He cleared his throat, aware that his face was burning up. “Yeah, we're dating now. Maybe at the next party I’ll have some stories to tell. None of you hound me at the Inn!” he said pointedly, as some of his students tended to waylay him at the pub whenever they had questions about the lessons or just some stories to tell him. “We might have some plans tonight,” he gestured to Morpheus.

“You got it, Professor. Nice running into you both!” She left with a mischievous smile that let Hob know that the entire class group chat was gonna know about him and Morpheus before sunset.

“Her daydreams are loud,” Morpheus said as he returned the graphic novel to the shelf beside him.

“What?” Hob looked at the direction Jade went then back to Morpheus. “Oh. Uh… Yeah. It was a little weird to see one of my students try to hit on you.”

“Her daydreams were about you and me. They occupied her mind as she left.”

Oh. Hob couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. God. The questions he would receive when he got back to class.

“She was wondering about the plans you mentioned. Do we have plans for tonight?” Morpheus asked curiously.

“Maybe? If you want.” Being hopeful got him this far, he wasn't about to stop now.

Morpheus stepped towards Hob, backing him up against the bookshelf. “And would you be telling me what these plans are? Or is it a surprise?”

“I am technically still at work, duck,” Hob chided playfully. “I don't want you snogging me senseless against this shelf.”

“Your daydreams say otherwise,” Morpheus’ voice was a low rumble, and a dastardly smile was on his lips.

Hob swallowed, and his eyes followed Morpheus’ movement as he reached up–

And took something from the shelf above Hob's head.

Morpheus took a step backwards and gave Hob the volume that he had been looking for, a look of feigned innocence on his face. “I believe this is what you wanted to purchase?”

Hob blinked and took the graphic novel from Morpheus as his brain caught up to what just happened. “I'll get you back for that,” he said pointedly.

“I look forward to it.” Morpheus’ teasing blue eyes momentarily flickered to black with pinpricks of stars, and Hob could only smile and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

After an hour more of browsing stories of all genres, Hob had a basketful of books he was planning to buy. Morpheus offered to carry it for him to the cashier, but the crowd was thick among the queues, and Hob noticed that Morpheus was uncomfortable with the tight space; his posture turning rigid and guarded despite his efforts to maintain a calm expression.

So Hob had gotten him a cup of hot chocolate from the snack bar and told him to just wait there while he paid for the books. Morpheus had wrapped his hands around the cup and agreed.

Twenty minutes and one heavy tote bag later, Hob waded through the crowd and began making his way back to the snack bar. His eyes landed on Morpheus, and he was relieved to find that he looked more relaxed now than when he had left him earlier.

Hob was less relieved when he realized that Morpheus was talking to some blond man with glasses and a sweater vest, and Hob didn’t need to be able to see daydreams to notice how the chap was looking at his boyfriend.

He frowned as he remembered that the blond was one of the authors holding a book signing at a booth earlier. Hob has never denied being fond of books, and the bag he was currently carrying was evidence of that. But sometimes these writers really got on his nerves. Did they really have to pop out whenever he was with Morpheus?

Hob was standing at quite a distance away, and Morpheus hadn’t yet seen him. He shifted on his feet and wondered whether or not he should approach them.

Well, why shouldn’t he? It would be a perfectly normal thing to do. This wasn’t like 1589 when Morpheus left him to talk to someone else, and they were together now. So whoever that joker was would be the outsider in the group should Hob approach them.

But he could feel his mind overthinking and it glued him into place. What would he say once he got there? Would he be expected to participate in an in-depth discussion about what it was like to create stories? Besides, if he went over there and immediately introduced himself as the boyfriend, it might appear a tad too possessive and he didn’t know how Morpheus would react.

Hob could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. Things were much easier in the 14th century when if a man was making advances on one’s partner, one could simply clock him in the jaw and that was that.

Morpheus met his gaze so suddenly that Hob almost flinched. He had to have known that Hob was there to be able to zero in on him so quickly.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, but Hob could clearly see the curiosity and amusement in the gleam of his eyes. Morpheus turned to the author again, who was entirely oblivious to the moment that had just passed.

He could see my daydreams, Hob realized. That was how Morpheus knew he was there. And the dastardly Dream King was waiting to see what Hob was going to do. Well. Hob did promise to get him back.

He walked to a wall to the side instead of straight to the bar, moving closer in a way that wasn’t too noticeable. Then he called to the front of his mind the daydreams he’d been having about Morpheus throughout his long life. It wasn’t difficult at all; it turned out that remembering them was far easier than trying to suppress them all those years.

It was certainly easy to remember how shapely Morpheus’ calves looked in those breeches he wore in 1789, and the tempting thoughts that had rattled around in Hob’s mind with the knowledge that they had a private room in The White Horse at the time.

1889 was the first time Hob had seen Morpheus with a short haircut, and was unsurprised that it suited him just as well. Hob had been able to see the slope of his neck better, and it was a short route from that observation to the thought that The White Horse had just built a new set of bedrooms upstairs.

Just an hour ago they had been walking along the aisles of books, and more than once Hob had let his gaze wander to those skinny jeans that were perfectly tailored to Morpheus’ arse.

Hob kept his eyes on Morpheus while he let his daydreams run rampant, and he saw his posture tense up again before he politely said goodbye to the author. Morpheus walked away from the bar and blended into the flow of the crowd faster than Hob could keep him in his line of sight.

He frowned and craned his neck to try to see where Morpheus had gone. He wasn’t leaving, was he—?

“Hob Gadling.”

Hob whirled around to see Morpheus standing before him with a dark expression; his jaw was clenched and there was a dangerous look in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Morpheus seemed to loom over him.

Hob swallowed. The feelings stirring within him at seeing Morpheus like this were far from fear, but he did worry that he might have overstepped. “Alright, well, I can explain that—”

“If you wish to tempt a being such as I then you must be prepared for the consequences.” Morpheus’ voice seemed to reverberate through the air around them, and Hob felt the words die in his throat. “Tell me, what did you hope to achieve by baring your thoughts to me thus?”

Hob felt the cold wall against his back and realized that Morpheus had cornered him. None of the people walking past paid them any mind, and he could feel rather than see the shield that Morpheus had put up to hide them from sight. “You know what I want,” he breathed. “I showed you, didn’t I?”

Morpheus’ gaze softened, and he reached up to touch Hob’s face in a gentle caress. “I will not presume, my love,” he muttered.

That word embedded itself into Hob’s chest, and he found himself holding the lapels of Morpheus’ blazer. “I want you,” he held Morpheus’ gaze. “I want to bring you into my home and keep you in my heart, as I hope you’ll keep me in yours.”

“You need not wish for what already is.” Morpheus leaned forward and pressed their lips together. His hands on Hob's waist clutched at his shirt, the fabric crumpling into his grip as they kissed each other with increasing fervor.

Hob pulled back just enough to speak. “Take me to bed, Morpheus,” he managed between breaths. “Now.”

Morpheus’ eyes turned into galaxies, and sand swirled around them in an instant.

Hob fell backwards into his own bed, barely registering the heavy thud of the bag of books on the floor.

Morpheus’ hungry mouth was on his, and Hob was already pushing his lover’s jacket off his shoulders, tossing it aside the moment it slipped free.

Morpheus straddled him, and Hob moaned into his mouth as their groins pressed together.

“Hob,” Morpheus’ hair was wild and he spoke with a barely controlled voice. “What do you—”

“Everything,” Hob gasped, grinding up onto Morpheus. “All of it. You. Morpheus.”

His lips were claimed once more; and Hob welcomed it willingly. Their tongues pushed and slid against each other, and Hob melted in Morpheus’ embrace.

Hands deftly worked to unbutton his shirt, and Hob wriggled and turned as much as was necessary to get all the restricting layers off of him.

Morpheus’ mouth traveled up his jawline, resting just below his ear where Morpheus sucked and nipped at the tender flesh.

Hob arched his bare torso against Morpheus as his breathing came in shallow gasps. His hands roamed under Morpheus’ turtleneck, exploring the smooth skin underneath.

Morpheus hummed low in his throat before his shirt disintegrated into nothingness. He returned to exploring Hob's mouth with his tongue, all the while grinding his hips down.

Hob whined desperately into their kiss, his hands gripping Morpheus’ arse as he rutted against him. Too much fabric was in the way, and he pulled at the waistband of the blasted tight skinny jeans in the hopes that they would disintegrate too.

Morpheus pulled away from their kiss with a gasp, and it fueled the fire inside Hob to see his godlike lover so worked up to the point of breathing, lungfuls of air that his physical form seemed to need now.

He vanished the remaining of their clothing, and Hob couldn't find it in himself to care where his expensive trousers might have ended up, not when Morpheus crawled down his body and wrapped his mouth around his cock.

“Ohhhhh,” Hob arched off the bed, fists clenched in the sheets beneath him. Morpheus worked him from root to tip, his tongue flicking languidly at the slit. “Fuck,” Hob screwed his eyes shut as Morpheus’ throat tightened around him, his tongue and lips impossibly soft and molten hot. “Morpheus— I… Christ have mercy—” he squirmed and arched his back, but Morpheus’ hands were an iron brace against his hips, preventing him from moving them even an inch.

Blessedly Morpheus lifted his hands in order to spread Hob's thighs wider, but before Hob could think to move his hips, he felt a slick finger prodding at his entrance.

“Morpheus—!” his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Is this still good, my beloved?” his voice was rough and his gaze hungrier than it's ever been as his lubricated finger slipped in.

Hob nodded mutely, unable to form words around his shallow breaths as a second finger followed. Soon his hips were grinding down with abandon when there were three digits twisting and scraping along his walls. “M-More… I need—ahh…”

Morpheus watched Hob with rapt attention as he brushed Hob’s prostate repeatedly, enough to drag him to the edge but not beyond it.

“Morpheus,” Hob’s cock lay heavy and twitching, dripping pre-come as Morpheus continued his onslaught.

“Are you ready, my dearest?” Morpheus curled his fingers beautifully inside Hob.

“Ah—! Yes! I need you in me... Please…” Hob's hips were rolling of their own accord, and a sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Morpheus leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Hob's lips, the gesture a sharp contrast to the relentless movement of his preparation of Hob. He retracted his fingers, and Hob keened as he clenched down on the sudden emptiness.

But Morpheus didn't leave him wanting for long, lining himself up and pressing in so slowly that Hob felt every inch of his lover filling him.

Hob's breath hitched and his eyes rolled back in his head; his fingers dug into Morpheus’ shoulder as he thrust his hips upwards in encouragement. “Yesss… That's it, love… That's it…”

Morpheus latched his mouth onto the side of Hob's neck, his own breathing ragged as he retracted and sank back in, deeper every time. With his lips came tongue and teeth; he found a tender spot where Hob's neck meets his shoulders and bit down, just enough to make Hob gasp and buck his hips, drawing out a groan from both of them.

At a particularly powerful thrust, Morpheus buried himself to the hilt and a bolt of pleasure shot through Hob's core—

“Ngh! Morpheus…” his fingernails clawed at Morpheus’ back, his thighs, urging him to move with the rolling of his hips. “Don't stop… don't stop… Fuck…”

“You… are exquisite…” Morpheus looked down at him with such adoration that Hob felt himself flush even more along with the heat that seemed to be emanating from both of them. “Astonishing… Beautiful in your—”

Hob grabbed the back of his neck and crushed their mouths together, diving his tongue as far as it would go. Morpheus sped up in earnest, gripping Hob's hip as his thrusts became more powerful.

Hob threw his head back and gasped, pleas and moans and soft curses falling from his lips. The delicious pressure within him was building up fast, his thighs began to tremble, and he tensed up as he prepared to be hurled over the edge—

Morpheus slowed down, his previously brisk pace giving way to a more measured one, his lips pressing soothing kisses to Hob's neck.

“Wh…? My love… Darling…” Hob panted, the crash of frustration muddling his ability to form sentences. “What—Agh!” Sparks flashed behind his eyes as Morpheus slammed into him, picking up speed again as his breaths came in hot at Hob's ear. “Yes… Ah—Ah…”

A whine escaped Hob as Morpheus slowed down once more, his fingernails scraping Hob's thigh as he shifted into a deeper angle yet maintained a languid pace.

“You mad bastard…” Hob groaned as he realized what Morpheus was doing. He tried bucking his hips, but his lover had him pinned quite helplessly.

Morpheus lifted himself from Hob's torso to look down at him with a teasing smirk. “Do you not want to draw this out, my dearest? Will you not have me for as long as you could?” He punctuated this with a deep thrust that was infuriatingly not followed by another.

“You're going to kill me,” Hob panted and gave Morpheus a glare that was as sharp as his crumbling wits would allow him. “You would murder me in my own bed—” a gasp punched out of him as Morpheus’ cool fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Oh, not at all.” Morpheus began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, going faster and harder. “Though I have many plans for you in this bed. And my own, if you would permit me.” His breathing grew more shallow, and his gaze never left Hob as if he were a prey he intended to devour whole.

Hob could only produce noises that made no sense; words were beyond his reach now. Did Morpheus just invite him to his home? His bed? If Hob would permit— God's wounds, if only Morpheus knew that Hob had been willing to go anywhere with him long ago.

He could feel his orgasm approaching stronger than ever, and he whimpered at the thought that Morpheus might slow down again, but the heated kiss that his lover bestowed on him promised otherwise.

His moans became grunts as Morpheus sped up inside and around him, he dug his nails into Morpheus’ back, clutched at his hair, they gasped and panted into each other's mouths, and Morpheus twisted his hand just so at the same time as he slammed into Hob's prostate.

Hob came with a yowl that took the air from his lungs and convinced him he had gone blind for a moment; he trembled uncontrollably as he unraveled beneath Morpheus, who followed him over the edge with a guttural sound that branded itself onto Hob's brain.

They kissed and held each other through the aftershocks, their breaths and sighs mingling together as the tremors slowly dissipated. Hob made a soft groan as Morpheus gently pulled out and collapsed beside him on the bed.

Hob vaguely felt a shimmer of magic around them as Morpheus waved his hand and cleaned them up.

Then Morpheus laid a gentle kiss on Hob's forehead and began carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you all right, my love?” he murmured.

Hob nodded sluggishly, still catching his breath and reveling in the feeling of Morpheus’ soft touches on his scalp. He faced Morpheus and pulled him close, putting his arm around his waist and nuzzling his face against his neck. “I love you. Did I ever say?” He felt Morpheus’ breath hitch and his pulse quicken slightly.

“No. You have not said so before.” Morpheus tightened his embrace before continuing to thread Hob's hair between his slender fingers. “And I love you, Hob Gadling. With all that I am and all that I will be.”

Hob hummed in contentment, resting his hand over Morpheus’ heart that beats only for him, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

———

Author's Note:

Now with art by @emihotaru depicting their kisses~

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats is a collection of poems by T.S. Eliot; the musical Cats is based on this collection.

The Moomin books by Tove Jansson started as a comic strip and eventually became adapted into a series called Moominvalley.

The other stories mentioned in the bookfair scene are made up by me and @patchyegg87 based on vibes and Tumblr posts we've seen from long ago.

And I know I said I was planning to post this chapter last January so I apologize for how late I actually did--

Anyway, thank you so much for reading!

Special thanks to @patchyegg87 for keeping me motivated throughout this whole thing and brainstorming scenes with me~

I'm also grateful to the other Dreamling writers whose works inspired me to write this fic in the first place:

@moorishflower

@delta-pavonis

@purplesauris

@beatnikfreakiswriting

@signiorbenedickofpadua

@cuubism

@hardly-an-escape

I know I've never spoken to some of you but I just wanted to say thanks~

And to my readers, thank you for your patience with this late upload! I hope you liked the chapter!

———

<- Chapter 2

(Masterlist)

[asmutwriter]

You Saved me (Part 17)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 14) You get a house call from a new visitor

A/N: Yes these descriptions are getting shorter and less descriptive with each new part

Also do you like the new header's I'm using in my posts?

WORD COUNT: 2569

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, violence, Michael!Dean, death

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

6 MONTHS LATER

You drop the girls off at school. Checking your phone for the time. Running on time for once. Having half an hour to get to work, which was only 15 minutes away. You smile. Turning your spotify playlist up to nearly max volume as you drive. Singing in excessive volume as you make your way to work.

You pull up to the car park. Grabbing your phone out of your bag and checking it properly. Turning off 'driving mode'. Wanting to kill 10 minutes before your shift started. Your phones buzzes through the unseen messages. One catching your eye as you see your bosses name pop up

'Incident at work last night. Closed today. 9am start tomorrow'

"Shit" you mutter. You should've checked your messages before leaving the school. You let out an annoyed sigh as you hold the steering wheel. "Oh well" you start up the engine. A smile coming over your face as you start driving home "free day".

You spend the day cleaning. Over the past couple of months you'd managed to have the work done fully to the upstairs part of your house. The attic was transformed into two bedrooms. One for each of your daughters as you took their previously shared downstairs room. You were just painting the different rooms now. Making the house really your home. You stand back. Admiring the work you'd done. Nodding to yourself as a smile creeps over your face.

"Hello Kathrine". A voice says behind you. You turn around. Jumping. A man in a suit and flat cap sat on your dining room chair. Legs folded neatly over one another. You clutch at your chest as you meet his green orbs.

"Jesus fuck you scared me Dean". You say. He half smiles at the name.

"Guess again". You furrow your brow slightly.

"I don't..." his eyes flash a white blue. You tense slightly. Trying not to show the sudden unease you feel. "Who are you? Why do you look like Dean?"

"I'm just borrowing him for a while. Don't worry that pretty head of yours. Your boyfriend is safe" he taps his head. "Right up here". You analyse him. His calm posture.

"What are you?"

"Are you asking in politeness or to try and figure out how you can kill me?". You smile at him. Tilting your head to the side as you both look at each other.

"Why don't you tell me to find out?". He smiles. Humoured by your boldness.

"The name is Michael". You look at him. Trying to read him. "The archangel". You try your best to remain calm. But he notices you shift. "You've heard of me".

"I'm pretty sure every person in the western world has heard of you. Now why the fuck are you here?"

"I just want to chat"

"And I want you to get out of my house"

"You don't want to hear what I have to say?"

"No". You turn, picking up a small pallet knife you were using earlier for the walls. Pointing it up. Taking a step towards him "Get out. Now". He looks at the small knife. Then at you.

"You do know that that-" he motions at the item "wont hurt me"

"No. But it will make me feel better if I use it on you". He smiles. An obvious amusement in his eyes.

"You're brave. Braver then I thought you would be". You stay silent. Making sure you keep your eyes on him. Being aware. Alert. He smiles. "I'm here to give you a proposition. I'm building an army. A powerful one. I'd like you to fight by my side"

"Why would I agree to that?"

"Don't you want to help protect your children?". You shuffle slightly. "Going through his thoughts - Deans memories - it wasn't only you I picked up on. What are their names..." he trails off. Snapping his finger as if he suddenly remembers it. "Anna and Lydia. Sweet girls they are". Smiling at you. An almost sickly smile. "Join me and they'll be safe. I'll keep them safe"

"I've kept them safe for 16 years. I think I'll be ok without your help". He watches you. Neither of you having moved from your spots. Him remaining sat at your dining room table. You with your knife sticking towards him still.

"You truly fascinate me". He grazes his eyes over you. Examining you. "Rummaging around Deans memories I've seen you be unbeatable. A great and accomplished woman".

"I'm flattered. Truly. Now get the fuck out of my house". He laughs. Looking away from you briefly before bringing his eyes back to yours. You swallow deeply. "Why me?". He tilts his head slightly. The smile he had disappears at your question. "There are powerful monsters in this world. Some great hunters. Fucks sake there is literal gods walking among us. So why have you - an angel of the lord - come to ask me to fight by your side?" He lets out a soft chuckle. Standing up as he watches you. You shuffle slightly. Moving backwards a step.

"You don't know what you are?" You move backwards as he takes a few steps towards you. You go to swipe at him but he blocks the attack. Grabbing your wrist and twisting it. Bringing it up and around your back. Pushing you into the kitchen counter top. Arm wretched behind you as he forces you over it. You feel him take the small blade from your fingers. Hearing the metal hit the ground as he tosses it aside. You struggle but his grip is harsh around your wrist.

"Let me go" you wiggle. Causing his hand to tighten.

"You've never wondered how you keep coming back from the dead? How an ordinary human can keep dying over and over again yet have no scars to prove it?".

"You're in a Winchesters brain. Surely you know that that's a standard thing". He pushes your arm up. Hurting the joint. You let out a whimpered laugh at the pain. Gritting your teeth. You move your free hand. Trying to grab something but he grabs that wrist too. Pinning it down near your head. You're stuck. Completely at his mercy. Your eyes frantic as you try and look behind you. Unable to see him due to the angle you're at. Chest flat against the counter. Fear washing over you.

"Due to your beautiful, heartfelt moment you had with Dean I know that mummy dearest made a demon deal to have you". You shut your eyes. "Now I'm unsure of what she said exactly and what demons are capable of. So one of two things happened. Either they took what she said literally. Taking 'I want my child to have a long life' to the extreme of bringing you back until you've reached that goal". You shake your head. Biting your bottom lip as he continues talking. Trying to push against him but to now avail.

"Or what I theorise is that they can't work miracles. They can't make new life happen. But they can expand on existing life. So, they plucked one of their tortured souls from hell and planted it into your mum. Creating you"

"Please. Please let me go..." you whisper. Almost a whimper. Cursing at yourself for not sounding as strong as you'd like to.

"That means that you are already dead. You are just a soul plucked from the depths of hell and reborn again. But you can't kill a ghost. You can lay it to rest, but a ghost can't die. Not unless you destroy its bones. Which is why you come back to life". He drops your wrist. Grabbing a handful of your hair as he pulls you up. You feel tears threatening your eyes. You don't look near him. Trying to avoid any of his features as you look away. Feeling his breath hit your ear as he speaks into it.

"Shall we put your immortality to the test?"

"No. No please no. Please". You start to feel a burning sensation. Throughout your eyes, mouth. Body. Your very soul on fire. You scream out. Trying to fight against him. But he remains unfazed. His eyes glowing as he watches you die.

-

You jolt awake. Lying on the sofa you bolt upright. The fear you had in your body still present. Especially when you look over. Michael sat on the arm chair. That same position he was in when you first saw him. Hands neatly on his lap. Legs folded one over the other. He glances at the clock on the wall.

"17 minutes and 53 seconds" he looks back at you. "That's how long you were dead for".

"So what?" you whisper. Scared eyes watching him. "You're telling me that I'm a living ghost?"

"Essentially. And the only way for you to die - truly die - is by burning your original spirits bones"

"That's why you want me to fight for you? To have an immortal on your side?"

"I've been around a long time. Before the dawn of man. I've seen powerful creatures. Holy and unholy. Walking gods. But they've all been killed off. Had a weakness. Sickness. Old age. Some human claiming to be a hero". He continues watching you "You are a strong woman. One of the strongest I've seen. We could rule this planet. Make it ours. Two gods side by side". A soft smile on his face as he watches you. A manic, soft smile. The fear in your eyes still evident. Your entire body tense as you look at him.

"You'd have nothing to fear from me Kathrine. Yes I could kill you. Easily in fact. But you'll come back. Every. Single. Time".

Before you can say anything, you hear the front door open. You turn in your seat. Standing up as you hear the familiar sound of you children. Anna and Lydia walk down the hallway, coming into the living room. They go to speak to you but Anna sees Dean. Well, his meat suit anyway.

"Dean!" she says. Her usual excitment in her voice. Going over to hug him. Lydia grabs her arm. Pulling her back. She looks at her younger sister who just shakes her head. He watches them both. Anna turning back to look at him.

"Girls" you say. Managing to hide the fear with a stern tone. "Go to your room. Now". Lydia turns, trying to take her sister with her but the eldest refuses to move. Keeping her ground as she looks at you. The younger keeps a hold of her hand.

"Please Anna" she whispers. Eyes darting between her sister and the green eyed man. "Please". She watches his eyes before nodding slightly. Allowing her to be taken to her room upstairs. Hearing the door shut. Feeling his eyes falling back onto you.

"Fascinating" You turn to face him. "Truly fascinating".

"What?"

"Your girls. They seemed to have some link with emotions. I thought it might only be you with that gift, given your birth. But for them to feel that I was not their friend. Just by being in the same room as me. That's truly fascinating". You point towards your front door. Hand shaking as you do so. You were so high on adrenaline and fear that you didn't care at this moment.

"I don't want to join your army. I don't want to be in a war. On either side. I just want to live out my life with my family. So please get out of my house". He watches. Standing up. Slow. His eyes fall onto yours. He takes in a breath. Walking towards you as he speaks.

"I respect you. I respect your decision to not join my war" He comes in front of you. Taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes darting down to his hand before going back up to his eyes. Frantically moving between them. The normally familiar green being cold and harsh. "If you don't want to fight by my side in this war then I will leave you and your children alone. Besides, we both know that killing you would be pointless". Eyes still watching yours "I will let you be happy with your family". You manage to control your breathing. Able to speak in coherent sentences.

"Deans in there, right?". Your voice so soft. He nods, dropping his hand. "I want to speak to him"

"I cant do that".

"We both know that you can. Let me talk to him".

"No"

"Why?"

"I'm growing tired of this conversation Kathrine"

"You don't get to call me Kathrine"

"Kathrine, Rose. Whatever you want to be called. I am leaving. You don't want to join my war, therefore you are serving me no purpose". With that sentence he disappears. You look around.

"Fuck" you mutter. You go to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time as you practically run up them. Not bothering to knock as you open the door. Seeing your girls sitting. One on the bed, the other at the desk. Both doing their homework. They both look at you.

"How was Dean?". Lydia asks. You go over to her. Hugging her tightly. Kissing the top of her head. "Mum. Can't breath. Need oxygen". You let go of her. Going over to Anna and giving her the same hugging treatment.

"Are you ok?". Anna says once you'd let her go from the vice grip you have on her. You nod.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just happy to see you girls. I've had a stressful and long day today. Just really glad to see you both" your pause is very brief. "I need to go make a phone call. What do you guys feel about takeaway tonight?". Their gleeful smiles implies a positive response to the suggestion.

You leave their room. Going downstairs you grab your phone from the living room coffee table. Scrolling through the names. You're sure you saved it... "Yes!" you exclaim. Hitting the number and placing it to your ear.

"Hello?" the voice says.

"Sam!"

"Rose?" an obvious confusion in his voice. "Is everything ok?"

"Yes. No. No its not. I just had a run in with Dean. Or I guess not Dean. Some guy called Michael"

"How long ago was this?"

"About 2 minutes ago. But hes gone now. He just- disappeared"

"Angels will do that" he pauses. "What did he say to you?"

"Something about wanting an army for a war"

"Crap"

"It sounds serious"

"That is an understatement". You hear vague chatter in the background. "Ok. I need to figure out what to do about this. You said he disapeared?"

"Vanished. One minute he was there, the next he was gone"

"By the time I get to you he'll be long gone. He could be the other side of the world by now. Shit" he mutters.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. Not at this moment. Just keep you and your children safe. And ring me if he turns up again, ok?"

"I will"

"Good"

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me know when you find him. When hes safe". He pauses for a short moment.

"I will"

"Thank you". You can hear him smile slightly.

"Bye". Clicks off. You put your phone down. Running your paint stained hands through your hair as you look around your room.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@sojuxxi

[foxett]

What's the swingset AU. I am hellbent on this AU rn and like pls yap about the lore 🙏

Aha.... Buckle your seatbelts this will take a while. (TW for mentions of s*icide, s*lf h*rm and death in general under the cut. Also omori spoilers. But that's probably to be expected)

Swingset was first an idea. Probably around early 2024??? I'm not sure but!!! I didn't actually plan to write anything about it until I got the idea for it and started writing the fic my last week of school (so it updates every wednesday)

The au itself... Hhhh yeah. Basically, the incident happens as normal, but Sunny doesn't have headspace and whitespace to slip into in his mind, and is fully aware the whole time Basil is doing the hanging and stuff or Mari. Sunny decides it's for the best and kills himself, hanging himself on the same tree Mari was already hanging on only like. Minutes later. (First chapter). Basil leaves before Sunny does that so he doesn't know it happens.

The rest of the gang (+ Basil is dragged along) and they find Mari and Sunny!!!! Yay!!! (Sarcastic yay) Anyways in short they react badly but Kel probably has it the worst because he's a little delulu in this au. Basil is close behind tho.

Kel twists the incident to Mari and Sunny making a swing and. Yeah. Au name!!! He also makes up fake versions of Sunny and Mari (and also everyone else, because the group fell apart) to hang out with. In other words, Kel needs a schizophrenia diagnosis. Everyone copes horribly (Basil. Well. Self harms. And generally is probably going insane.) (Hero bedrots like in canon but longer) (Aubrey bullies Basil at first but they make up and form a sorta sibling bond!) (not gonna spoil the exact thing but Aubrey will be traumatized further)

There's!!! A lot of stuff going on. Kel has all his fake friends (before the group reunited because of a certain incident!) - and also ghost Sunny and Mari (who age like ghost Mari does in canon because i said so) exist but they're not too important outside of the good ending.

I don't keep count but i think there's a total of 8 something's total. Canon something (Mari something, Maris hanging body), Sunny something (Sunny's hanging body), canon something (Mari at the bottom of the stairs, Basil's something), Noosething (Basil's extra au something (tying the noose which leads to Sunny's own suicide), Basil something (Aubrey's extra something. Not spoiling it for now...), Kel something (bad ending) and hero's very hd quality something's (he looked at the bodies too long ig)

Everyone has the sunny and mari somethings. Basil has 4 total. Hero and Aubrey have 3 (sunny, mari, their own bonus) Kel repressed his two but they still show up in the shadows sometimes :)

Basil is. Where do i start. He actually is completely delusional. Completely. More than Kel kinda. He also hears voices. He almost kills someone trying to kill himself (spoilers), and overall almost kills himself like. At least thrice. He doesn't take care of himself. At least Aubrey's there to help!

On a sorta wholesome note, everyone gets their hair dyed!! They do it to 'help' Kel to snap out of his delusions (it makes it worse) (kel does snap out of it at some point! But it might just be too late for it by then :) )

For the fic itself it's 11k ish words and 4 chapters at the moment.???? I have 20 chapters planned total plus two bonus ones so. Ouch. that's gonna be fun to write. I take the au itself seriously but the extra drawings i do for it... Ehhh not so much.

I have this gem of a doodle (vision basil and real basil) i frankly don't remember when i drew this. I probably was half asleep and it was like 2 am.

I plan to rework the old reference sheets i have and hopefully do the fifth chapter today and tomorrow! I don't actually wanna spoil much but definitely keep an eye out for some post!!!

Yippie! Read below ↓

mind the warnings (although since you made it this far, you probably don't care!!)

[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

Brushstrokes of New Orleans: 003

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⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

∘₊✧─ 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐡'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ─✧₊∘

The moon was casting its silvery glow over the garden, I watched as Penny's eyes danced with excitement at the sight of the hidden artifacts nestled among the foliage. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her passion for art and history a beacon of light in the darkness.

But as the hour grew late and the stars began to twinkle overhead, I knew it was time for us to retire for the night. Penny had only recently moved to New Orleans for school, and there was still so much she had yet to learn about this city and its rich history.

"Penny," I said gently, my voice breaking through the quiet of the night. "I think it's time for you to get some rest. We have a lot planned for tomorrow." Penny turned to me with a smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

"But I'm not tired," she protested, her voice filled with excitement. I couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, but I knew that she needed her rest if she was going to be able to fully appreciate all that New Orleans had to offer.

"I know you're eager to explore," I replied, my voice soft but firm. "But trust me, you'll need your rest for what I have planned tomorrow."

As we strolled through the garden, the fragrance of night-blooming flowers filled the air, wrapping us in a cocoon of tranquility as we made our way back to the mansion. Despite the late hour, there was a sense of peace that settled over us. Once we reached the steps leading up to the mansion, I turned to Penny with a smile. 

"What would you like for breakfast tomorrow?" I asked, my voice filled with warmth. Penny's eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of a new day. 

"Hmm, how about pancakes?" she replied, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "With fresh fruit and a side of bacon, if that's not too much trouble." 

"Consider it done," I said, my tone playful. "I'll make sure it's ready for you first thing in the morning."

 "Goodnight, Elijah," she smiled, her voice soft with affection.

"Goodnight, Penny," I replied, returning her smile. And with that, we bid each other farewell. I couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that lingered in my chest. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in centuries, a sense of connection that transcended time and space. But before I could dwell on it further, a familiar voice broke through the quiet of the night, sending a shiver down my spine. 

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Klaus's voice rang out from behind me, his tone dripping with mischief. I turned to find Klaus standing there with a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. 

"Seems like someone's got a little crush," he teased, his grin widening at my expense. I rolled my eyes at his taunts, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Klaus," I replied coolly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Penny is simply a colleague, nothing more." Klaus chuckled at my denial, his laughter echoing in the stillness of the night. 

"Oh, come on, Elijah, even I can see the way you look at her," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "It's written all over your face." I shot him a withering glare, my patience wearing thin. 

"Enough, Klaus," I said firmly. "This is not the time or place for your games." But Klaus was undeterred, his grin widening as he leaned in closer. 

"You know, brother, you should be careful," he said, his tone turning serious. "Penny doesn't know the first thing about our kind, about the hatred and cruelty that comes with being a vampire." I sighed heavily at his words, knowing he spoke the truth. "I'm well aware of the dangers, Klaus," I replied, my voice tinged with resignation. "But I won't let anything happen to her. I'll protect her with my life if need be."

"Just remember, brother," he said, his voice a whisper in the night, "she's human, and we're not. No matter how much we may wish otherwise."

"I know," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "But for now, let's focus on keeping her safe."

With that, Klaus clapped me on the shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Agreed," he said, his grin returning in full force. "But let's not forget to have a little fun along the way."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[hsgwrld-archive]

-JUST FRIENDS. P.SH

-pairing : best friend!Sunghoon x gn!reader

Genre : fluff ,, angst (?)

-inspired : just friends - Virginia to Vegas!

-wc: 1036!

Warning : mention of smoking ,kinda drinking (?)

Sunghoon being asshole at some point.

-100.flw masterlist

Note - big thank you to @redm4ri for helping me !!!. This is first story from 100followers masterlist !! Anyways I hope everyone who reads it enjoy this 😸feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

taglist : @wanna-live-yn-life | @ddenoudepression

——-

“Friends?” It was exactly 2 years ago that Sunghoon asked you to be his friend. It was the start of high school, you met him through a mutual friend

Now everything is changing slowly. You developed feelings for him but just as a friend right? It was hard to understand. He treated you more like a lover, less than a friend.

And you're telling me you wanna kiss me

But we shouldn't 'cause we're just friends

“Sunghoon we shouldn't," You lightly pushed his face away from you with your hand, his face getting red with every moment as he stared at you. Walking together home from practice, you never knew Sunghoon would wanna kiss you. But you both knew that shouldn't happen.

“Why not y/n, tell me why not“ groaning Sunghoon said, looking straight into your eyes.

“We are just friends right?”

“yea we are”

Smoke a cigarette and talk shit about exes,

Take a couple shots and see where the night ends.

Another weekend, there you were, standing beside Sunghoon with a cigarette between his fingers. It was a chilly night. At a party Heeseung hosted. It wasn't a party but more like a gathering.

You believe Sunghoon saw his ex, at this point, He knew she hated seeing him smoking so why not show her that he doesn't care anymore? The only thing Sunghoon wasn't aware of was your feelings. You hated seeing him like this and it hurts.

“Have you seen her?” you turned your whole body towards him while leaning on the balcony railing. You crunched your face in disgust when Sunghoon exhaled the last blunt. The smell was disgusting. Sunghoon turned his face toward you.

"Yes, I saw her, but I don't care anymore. I'm glad I broke up with her. The rumours about her lately are disturbing."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle. He threw the cigarette away and fully turned towards you.

"And y/n, you should forget about Jake, I saw you staring at him“

The second most thing you hated about this gathering was Jake, your stupid ex. He made you so happy, but it didn't last long. But at least you have Sunghoon now.

“Let's forget about them both, let's go take some shots and let's see how the night will end”

Tomorrow when it's over and we're sober

I just want to believe that you'll miss me

That shouldn't have happened. The kiss shouldn't have happened in the first place. It was a huge mistake, right? Everything happened too fast, from getting drinks at the counter to sharing a kiss on the couch. For you, the whole night was blurry, but the moment you both shared was stuck in your head.

You were regretting everything that happened. The question was what Sunghoon was thinking at this moment. Was he upset about it? Or did he not want to see you anymore? Days go by. You didn't see Sunghoon at school, you wished he missed you as you miss him. He didn't even bother to call you or text. You would be happy if you get a small text saying 'I hope you're doing okay' but you can only wish for that.

Hoping Sunghoon hasn't turned his back on you at this moment, and that he still sees you as his best friend.

Days still go by. That is, you thought two years of friendship was gone.

Going home from school, you were almost there. You never thought of seeing him in front of your door. Wait what?

There he was standing, with flowers in hand. Wait? Flowers.

“What are you doing here?” you narrowed your eyes at him. Almost four days went without him talking to you, and now he is in front of your house, smiling at you.

“I wanted to see you, and I missed you“ he smiled, stepping closer to you, and embracing you in a hug. You feel your cheeks heating up. Maybe you liked him more as a friend, but he didn't see you that way, right?

Sunghoon explained he didn't reach out to you because his phone was broken, and had family business to attend to.

Stop pretending like we're just friends

It has been a week since he showed up in front of your house. Something has changed. He treats you differently? More like a lover than a friend? You were sure of it this time. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead when you both hang out in public. It was giving you a headache. Confusion, everything he said was confusing.

Once again he was at your house. For the usual movie marathon you both have.

That is, you thought, you needed to ask him. Pausing the movie, what was going on in the background, turning full attention towards Sunghoon, who was sitting beside you on the couch.

‘“Hoon, what are we?”

‘“we are good friends y/n”

Friends? It was the biggest bullshit you have ever heard from Sunghoon. But this made your heart shatter.

Just friends? His words were stuck in your head.

Friends don't treat each other like we do.

Friends don't kiss each other randomly.

“You're lying to yourself and to me Sunghoon" you exclaimed, your voice breaking. Tears escape your eyes, taking your head between your hands. It wasn't your first time crying in front of Sunghoon. Failing a grade or a boy rejecting you, it was always Sunghoon who comforted you about everything but this time it was different. You were crying because of him.

Sunghoon understands your feelings, it hurts him too, seeing you like this. He knew to him, you weren't just a friend but something more. He was scared to hurt you. You two were too opposite. Sunghoon was a so-called cold type and didn't care about grades or others' feelings but when it came to you, He wanted to be the better version just for you.

Sunghoon wished to be more than friends.

Seeing you crying broke his heart more than ever.

Moving closer to you, putting his hand on your back and rubbing it. A smile broke on his lips.

“Maybe I am lying to myself, and we should stop pretending that we are just friends“

[hollypies]

Was finally gonna do art today but NOPE something weird is going on with my med school lab work and now I have to figure it out AND I also don't know if I'm even supposed to go tomorrow because I CANT REMEMBER IF I EVEN SIGNED UP but ALSO I HAVE ANOTHER LAB THATS THE SAME ONE IVE ALREADY DONE TWICE !!! You're only supposed to do a lab TWICE I am fully, FULLY AWARE I've done this lab twice but my shitty brain is being shitty and now everything sucks and of course my mom thinks I'm gonna have to re enroll because reasons completely out of my control but COMPLETELY in hers ffs if I make it through this week without having a complete mental break I'm gonna fucking celebrate

[evereinefaust]

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏 ✾ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

It's been a while since she felt she had a true vacation. Ever since her second year of high school ended, she applied for two jobs to sustain her daily needs. The female doesn't have many friends, and the close friend she has was out on a family vacation. She knew that it was inevitable that they would spend their breaks separately. Her friend's family even offered to join them on their out-of-town vacation, but she declined. [Name] knew better than to come with her friend's family bonding. It is her friend's family vacation, meaning that she isn't a part of that family. She could still remember how her friend's mother insisted she come along, only for her to stubbornly decline.

"[Nickname], why don't you join us? Your parents are working abroad and you don't have anyone with you at home."

"It's fine, Aunty. I'll be fine at home. I don't want to impede your family vacation, after all. Besides, I can take care of myself," the young female assured the adult, flashing her a sweet smile.

"You could never be a disturbance to us, honey. You're like our own daughter," she told her, taking the girl's dominant hand and caressing it gently.

"Thanks, Aunty. But I really can't," [Name] placed her other hand on top of the older woman. She gave her an apologetic smile afterward.

The older woman sighed. She knew that once the teenager made up her mind, no one can change it.​ "If you say so, [Name]. But please remember to stay safe, honey. Call us if there's something up."

"I will."

With that said, [Name] escorted her friend's mother to the front door. Once she opened the wooden door, she saw her friend and his father waiting outside her home. Their car was parked in front while the two males were patiently waiting, well, maybe only the adult. The young girl waved at them. Her uncle waved back, but the son has his arms crossed and his foot stomping on the ground impatiently. [Name] giggled as the two females walked towards the gate.

"Hey," she greeted the boy.

Instead of returning the greeting, he just huffed and avoided her gaze. His cheeks were tinted pink and his lips pursed tightly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Why won't you come with us?" He pouted, cheeks flushing slightly. "N-not like I wanted you to come! Mom just won't stop pestering me if you weren't with us!"

[Name] chuckled, fully aware of how her friend acted around others. She finds it cute, actually. It's like he is passive-aggressive, but she knew he was not like that. Flashing him an apologetic smile, the shorter female placed her hand on his cheeks, rubbing them gently. The ginger was surprised that he instantly looked into her [e/c] eyes. He felt the warmth of her palms on his skin, and unconsciously, he leaned towards her touch. He didn't want to admit it himself, but he desperately wanted her to join in.

"I'm terribly sorry..." She said softly, trying to not make him mad, even though she knew he wouldn't be. "I really can't."

An airy sigh escaped the girl's lips, and her gaze averted toward the scenery outside the cafe. The white and fluffy clouds were floating across the cerulean sky, cherry blossom petals were falling from their branches, and family and friends were bonding at a park nearby. It's already 8 a.m. and [Name] was glad that she doesn't have any job to attend to today. But more importantly, her third year of high school will start tomorrow. Just the thought of it makes her a bit excited—yet nervous.

〝I can't wait to see him tomorrow.〞

A small smile etched unto the girl's pink lips upon remembering her ginger friend. Taking one last sip of her favorite beverage, [Name] fixed her things and exited the cafe. The girl took out her phone from her sling bag, opened the notepad app, and read the tasks inside.

Fun things to do today:

Ride the fastest roller coaster at the amusement park

Eat [favorite flavor] ice-cream

Go back-to-school supply shopping

Buy a welcome-back gift for him

Borrow [favorite book] from the library

Plan five different hairstyles for tomorrow

Play [favorite game]

Watch [favorite anime]

After reading the whole list, the [h/c]-haired girl proceeded to the bus station. Fortunately for her, she arrived at the station moments before the bus did. [Name] entered the bus, tapped the IC card against the sensor, and sat on a single seat next to the windows. She adjusted her headphones with her favorite song playing, leaning on the window to stare at the bustling town outside. The [h/c]-haired female closed her eyes, listening to her music while she rested on the journey.

Upon arriving at her destination, the female hopped off the public transportation and made her way toward the entrance of the amusement park. The large arc was in the shape of the sun's rays, its colors were a gradient of pale orange and warm yellow. The combination was not too bright nor overpowering but gives off a relaxing and welcoming sensation. There was a row of Japanese crape myrtle on each side of the arc entrance with several small bushes of assorted flowers. The trees were already past their blooming season, and what remains were the luscious green leaves. Yet despite the absence of its delicate, silver flowers, [Name] still found the crape myrtles beautiful.

Averting her gaze from the foliage, her eyes then landed on the large sign etched onto the sun arc, each letter was simple yet still held a cool font style. Underneath it was the theme park's catchphrase, the one she'd known when she was still a mere child.

Her eyes scanned the vicinity of the place as she proceeded on. Surprisingly, a few people were visiting the park. Though, it's reasonable, since tomorrow is the start of another school year; most parents want to prepare their children for it. Besides, they had enough time to fully enjoy a vacation. Nevertheless, it didn't stop a certain third year from entering the said amusement park. Upon paying the required fee, [Name] stared in awe at the booths and rides all around her.

"It's been a while since I've come to this place..." She mumbled to herself, getting lost in the memories of her past.

A young [Name] ran towards the theme park. It was a bright summer. A lot of families were entering Summerfield with their hyperactive children. The child halted a few feet away from her parents, turning around to wave both of her arms high in the air.

"Mommy! Daddy! Hurry, hurry!" She made gestures to exaggerate her point.

Both adults smiled. [M/n] gently urged an older boy beside her to accompany the girl. He obliged and went towards [Name]. The child instantly clings to the older boy's arms once he's at arm's reach, rubbing her face on him. The boy chuckled, patting her [h/c] locks. After a few minutes, [Name] stopped and once again faced the direction of her parents. Instead this time, her attention was on the other family next to them.

"Hurry, hurry!" She said again, making a 'come here' motion.

The mother then turned her attention toward the boy hiding behind her. She smiled down at her son, encouraging him to go towards the two. However, the ginger only shook his head violently.

"There's no need to be afraid, dear. Look, big sis and big bro are waiting for you," the female knelt in front of her son, pointing at the children in the distance as she tried to convince the boy.

Slowly, the child took a peek from behind his mother's back. Surely, the two children were patiently waiting for him to come along. The girl, seeing him, extends her arms toward him, while the boy just simply waves.

​​​​​​"[Name]-neechan..." The boy mumbled.

Cautiously, the boy took small steps toward the duo. His mother smiled as she watched her son make his way to them. Once the ginger approached the two, he welcomed himself into the girl's waiting arms. [Name] giggled, wrapping her arms around his small frame and rubbing his back lovingly.

"There, there. There's no need to be scared. You've got us!" She beamed at him.

The boy glanced up and his orange eyes met with her shining [e/c] ones. He found himself smiling despite the fear bubbling inside him.

"Okay!"

[Name] didn't realize that her feet already led her to her desired ride in the park. She halted and stared at the huge structure in front of her eyes. The line for this ride wasn't long, yet it will still make her wait for at least five minutes before it was her turn. A grin emerged from her lips as she skipped her way toward Summertime Swift, the fastest-known roller coaster at this park.

The young female arrived at the end of the line, waiting for the next batch of riders to have their turn. While waiting, the girl felt a slight vibration in her left pocket. Noticing that it was a notification, she fished out her phone from her pants and opened the messages app upon seeing a new message. Her eyes softened as she read the message coming from a certain male.

After her last message, the [h/c]-haired girl returned her phone safely inside the bag. Fortunately for her, it was already her turn after the text exchange. Excitedly, [Name] went up the steps, took off her bag, and placed it in a safe designated box located at the entrance of the ride. She hopped inside on the front cart, seating herself next to a young man with curly silver hair sporting black-framed glasses. Judging from his young face and slender body, the girl concluded that he must be in his late teens or early twenties.

Noticing a presence beside him, the silverette glanced at the [h/c]-haired teen. His turquoise orbs were stoic and his lips were shut in a thin line. Feeling awkward with his attention, [Name] flashes him a small smile and a wave of her hand. The male reciprocated the act with a smile and nod of his head, before facing forward.

〝I thought that he was going to ignore me. Thank goodness he didn't. That would've probably made things awkward.〞

The young female let out a quiet sigh as she waited for the remaining carts to be filled with people. After a few minutes, the crew pulled down the lap bars and locked them in place. [Name] felt excitement coursing throughout her body as the train slowly made its advance along the tracks. Her hands gripped the metal as the wind blew past her face, making her [h/c] tresses sway everywhere.

As the cart slowly climbed up the hill and approached the first drop, the young female's heart was beating uncontrollably against her chest. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, a clear sign of fear with a tinge of incitement. Without any moment's notice, the train finally dropped down from its first thrill element.

"Ahhh!"

After the thrilling and fast roller coaster ride, the young teenager left Summertime Swift. A smile was etched on her face as she strolled around the park. Taking out her phone to check the time, it was already 11 o'clock. She opened her notepad and checked the first task on her checklist.

​Deciding that she should eat lunch before finishing off the second task on her list, the girl proceeded to a food court nearby. She scanned each restaurant and store in the place, each with its theme and set of dishes. [Name] gulped, feeling her stomach growl in hunger and awaiting the pleasure of chowing down delicious meals for the day.

"Do I even have enough money for this?" The girl muttered to herself, bringing out her wallet to check her bills. Seeing that she had enough to afford a fancy meal, the teen proceeded to a seafood restaurant. "It won't hurt to finally treat myself for a change, wouldn't it?"

With that said, [Name] waited in line for her orders. The service was fast and the line wasn't long so the young teen was able to have her meals in less than 10 minutes. After getting her desired food, she sat at a nearby vacant table. Without any moment's hesitation, the female finally devoured to her heart's content.

After finishing her meal, [Name] proceeded to finish off her second task and treat herself to a dessert. She left the food court and took a stroll on the other side of the park. She observed all of the different stalls, stores, and game booths lined in a row, and her [e/c] eyes caught the sight of a certain store just next to the ice cream parlor.

〝Great! I can finally tick off two tasks instantly.〞

A smile graced her lips as she made her way toward the gift shop. She entered the shop and the bells chimed when she opened the door. The woman at the counter gave her a sweet smile.

"Take your time to choose what you want, dear. We have a plethora of items here; scarfs, keychains, notebooks, plushies, pillows, and plenty more."

Just like the woman said, the young teen roamed around the small store to look for a suitable welcome-home gift for her friend. She knew that he likes cute stuff, but never once admitted it. She knew almost all of his favorites, even his favorite color—Salmon pink, and his favorite pet which is a cat. [Name] inwardly giggled to herself as she recalled how often she would tease the ginger boy by calling him kitten or Koneko.

One item caught her eye and she went closer to the shelves. She picked up a polka-dotted, salmon-pink scarf. Her fingers felt the softness of the fabric and she even put it on her nose to smell the scarf. As expected, it smelled like a newly bought item from the store. [Name] looked around for one more item to give, fortunately for her, it didn't take much to pick another item from the shop. In her left hand was the scarf while she held a cute cat phone charm in her right.

Deciding that these gifts would suffice, she went to the counter to pay for her items. The employee placed the items in each separate box and even wrapped them with a gift wrapper. This is a gift shop, after all. After paying for her things, the teenager bid goodbye to the adult and exited the premises. Without wasting another minute, she proceeded to the parlor next door.

Just like the other booths and establishments, this one was decorated with the overall summer color of yellow and orange. The wall paint was a vertical stripe of yellow and white, and the plaque above the parlor was in orange font with an ice cream cone design beside it. The place was open, with archways instead of doors and several tables outside to give off a relaxed feeling. And of course, the park has no absence of plants and trees.

[Name] entered the seemingly vacant establishment and took the time to observe the decorations inside. As expected, the wallpaper was of the beach, water, sun, and other summer-related themes. The man working at the counter saw her approaching and flashed her a bright smile. 

"Welcome to our humble store! What ice cream do you want, young miss?"

The girl replied with a smile. "I would like a [favorite flavor] one, please."

"Sure thing. I'll get it done in a jiffy!"

[Name] returned home exhausted from her small escapade. She brought the gifts and some other souvenirs she won from the game booths. Once she entered her room, she placed the paper bag on her study desk and sat on the chair. She took out all of the items inside and fixed her stuff. She first put aside the two gift boxes on the edge of her bed which is just beside her desk, after, she organized the souvenirs and placed them in their appropriate place. After finishing keeping all of her items, the young teen picked up her phone from her sling bag and searched the internet for any cute hairstyles she could try using for tomorrow.

〝Geez! I'm excited about tomorrow.〞

[Name] felt her heart skip a beat at the thought. She pursed her lips, trying hard to suppress her excitement and not squeal like an idiot. When she calmed down, the [h/c]ette then watched tutorial videos on styling her hair and even took notes on when to use those hairstyles. It took her a few minutes to practice and try out each style. And after finishing her task, the female decided to take a break. It was one in the afternoon when she arrived home and was entirely tired from the trip. An afternoon nap was all that she needed at the moment.

It was already five in the afternoon when the teenage girl woke up from her nap. Even though she was given just a day of break, [Name] was still grateful to have time for herself. She spent two hours straight playing [favorite game] after waking up. It's been a year since she enjoyed playing her favorite games with her younger cousin. And because of her academics and daily chores, she started to have lesser time to play and she even stopped playing altogether. It still made her happy when she played it though, remembering all of her happy moments while playing the game.

[Name] was entirely delighted to be able to spend time entertaining herself and finally do her hobbies after such a long time. The girl placed down her console and decided that it is time to prepare dinner and get ready for tomorrow. She had enough fun for today, after all. The young female went to the kitchen and got out the ingredients from the fridge. She took an [f/c] apron hanging from the rack and put it on, tying the ribbon on her back. After ensuring that she has all the necessary items, the [h/c]-haired female proceeded on making herself a delicious meal.

It took the girl a few minutes to finish making her dinner, which is salmon teriyaki and miso soup. She would've loved to make healthier dishes, however, she doesn't have enough ingredients or time to prepare them. Besides, the girl wanted to have a light meal before sleep. [Name] sat on the chair with her meal in front of her. The appetizing scent wafted around the dining room and through her nose, making her stomach grumble in anticipation and her mouth slightly water. Without wasting another second, she clasped her hand together and picked up her chopsticks right after.

"Itadakimasu!"

And with that, she took a mouthful of rice and salmon. Her cheeks blushed in a pink hue, clearly satisfied with her cooking. [Name] was never the housewife type of girl. She only knew how to cook a simple meal which is sufficient for her alone. Since her parents were out of town, she didn't think of making a gaudy dish for herself, nor care about that. But since her childhood friend lives next door, his mother offered to prepare meals for her.

Her aunt would care a lot about her as if she were her daughter. Ever since the young [h/c]ette female started high school, the adult would prepare her lunch and insist on having dinner with her family. Of course, the student tried to reason with the older female that she could handle herself just fine. However, it only goes through deaf ears. Eventually, [Name] just gave up persuading her aunt and letting her do things her way. That's why the teen became too dependent on her childhood friend and his family.

[Name] let out a sigh. Her eyes glanced over to the pictures mounted on the wall. Its intricate frame design complements the beauty of what it housed; it was a portrait of her family alongside his. She chewed on her food slowly, letting her mind wander off for a while. She is already 18 years old; a third-year high school student, that is.

The two-week vacation and the transition to another school year made the girl contemplate herself and her future. She had been pampered ever since she was still young and was favored in the family. She wasn't spoiled like other children, but she still gets what she wished to have. Maybe it was because she was fragile that the adults were already keeping an eye on her. Or maybe it was because of her personality that they kept doting on her. She could never know... but whatever the reason, she knew herself that she can't keep living like this.

[Name] promised herself that she would start becoming independent and avoid relying too much on others. And the first step to that, in her opinion, is to take time off from her childhood friend and his family. For the past years, especially in her previous two years of high school, her aunt would invite her during their out-of-town trips. Of course, the female was excited to come along with them and rarely ever declined her request. It's been like this ever since, and when looking back at the memory, [Name] sees herself clinging to them. That's why, this year, she decided not to come with them.

It is still too early to determine whether it worked or not, but despite it, the teenager pushed on. Next on her list is learning how to prepare meals for herself. And since tomorrow is her first day of school, it gave her the motivation to start the day the way she wanted. She would prepare lunch for herself and stop relying on her aunt.

[Name] finished her dinner and proceeded to clean the plates and dry them. After, she went back to her room and got out her [f/c] pajamas from the closet. The girl walked inside the bathroom to wash and get ready for bed. It was already 7:34 in the evening as she checked the time on her phone. After changing into her sleepwear and brushing her teeth, the young female entered her room once again to fix her school bag and put in all the necessary supplies.

Her [e/c] orbs glanced at the uniform hanging behind the door. A smile etched on her face; a bittersweet one. 

〝This year will be the last that I'll be wearing that uniform, not to mention that I'll also be graduating this year...〞

The girl tried to shake all of the negative thoughts from her head. The last thing she wants is to be depressed on the first day of the third year. After fixing her things for tomorrow, [Name] decided that it is a perfect time to watch the latest season of her favorite anime. She squealed like a fangirl as she hopped on her bed, took out her phone, and went to the episode list of her favorite series. Her eyes quickly glossed over the time and saw that it was still eight. Her smile widened.

"It wouldn't hurt for me to watch a few episodes of [favorite anime], right?" She mumbled, pausing for a while as if thinking, then shrugged her shoulders afterward. "Eh. It'll be alright."

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

I just typed out a big rant post about being overwhelmed with work and being really irritated with the extra work that I seem to have to do now because of what I can see are quite frankly, issues of communication and a very wishy washy perspective on what our classes should be like.

But I'm not gonna post it, I deleted it, because Qadr'Allah, I am fed up, but I don't want to complain because all things considered, it's small irritations exacerbated by the fact it's coming from my parents. And some of it comes down to their lack of communication, and it feeds into frustrated feelings there. And the job is not that bad. I just need to adjust, Insha'Allah.

Just. As a note. Working at a start up, 100% true, it's chaos.

And it requires a hell of a lot of determination.

And yes my dislike of venting fully is both... I think I should be better than that and consider and be grateful for my situation, but also a bitter part of me (who sounds remarkably like my dad) says that it makes me weak or bad because I'm not just gritting my teeth and getting the hell on with it.

Fully aware that bitter part is stupid, I know that.

But I know my conscience feels ill at ease over complaining about the fact that all things considered, I've got a good gig, and this is a learning opportunity to grow and improve my skills as a teacher and I am grateful for that. Insha'Allah I can transfer these skills to another job some day so the transition to formal teaching in schools won't be as big. I'm just quite irritable and overwhelmed because there's a lot to do

I want.... to cry though, honestly. I feel... lost as to how I'm going to balance everything. I decided typing this out at least, even though it's taking up my time, helps. My time for studying was already interrupted with dealing with another work thing. *hides face in hands* I... I want to excel at my work, and my studies, but I'm so frustrated and tired of everything.

I need to cover for my co worker as she needs to go to a Janazah tomorrow, and I need to bake some cupcakes for my GCSE students tonight as tomorrow is their last lesson before half term. *takes a deep breath* I won't have time to prep a packed lunch so I'll get mum to order lunch for me tomorrow, that will make me feel a little better Insha'Allah

[lonelywhalien22]

take a break

pairing: seonghwa x reader

rating/genre: fluff, college/school/work au

summary: a warm cup of tea and a break with Seonghwa is just what you need when work becomes overwhelming.

warnings: stress, anxiety, kissing

word count: 1k

song(s) to listen while reading: stone by alessia cara

note: sharing this piece I wrote when college was running me ragged (regular occurrence). I always imagined Seonghwa while writing it for some reason so I hope you enjoy!

You sit at your laptop for the millionth time today, having hopped out of the shower but still in no better of a mood, and certainly not excited to get back to your work. You came over to stay with your boyfriend Seonghwa at his place for the night, promising that you just wanted to finish up one assignment before the two of you could spend the evening together. But after discovering a project deadline that had completely flew under your radar you switched into panic mode. Half an hour turned into two hours and you still didn't see an end to the work in sight. Huffing in frustration, a pout on your face, you think about when the semester will finally be over. A sudden clink sound startles you as a mug of warm tea slides into your view.

"Long day?" you hear Seonghwa say as he gives you a soft smile while pulling a chair up behind you to sit down. He sits on it backwards, so that his front is facing the chair's back and his legs split off onto the chair's sides. You give a sheepish smile at him before looking back towards your laptop on his desk, fingers curling around the warm ceramic as you grab the mug thankfully.

"Yeah. I've just been struggling with this assignment all day and still haven't gotten it done. And now I just feel like I'm falling behind on everything else…I'm just so mentally over it, you know?" As you say the words you still can't look at him directly, afraid that you'll cry if you do. Seonghwa just hums softly, reaching forward to rub your arms slowly before eventually wrapping them around your upper body completely. He scoots his chair closer, laying his head on your shoulder as he stares at your laptop screen for a moment before shifting his attention to your pitiful expression.

"I know you put a lot of pressure on yourself sometimes," Seonghwa starts tentatively, "but you know you don't have to finish everything tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah, I know but it's just so hard to let it go sometimes. I'm just gonna keep thinking about it all night and then tomorrow I'll have to deal with it, which will put me behind on this other project that I haven't even started and I don't even know what I'm doing for that yet and-" Seonghwa sees your spiraling before you can catch it yourself and promptly leans in front of you, kissing the corner of your lips in a swift motion and immediately shutting you up.

"Hey, slow down y/n. Just take it one thing at a time, ok?" he says gently as he takes your chair and rotates it around to face him completely. It's the first time you've taken a moment to look at him fully this evening. His black hair is slightly falling into his eyes from the shower he just took and you finally rest your eyes on his dark orbs. Seonghwa gives you a knowing smirk then, fully aware he has you completely under his trance. This is the exact reason you still shy at looking him directly in the eyes. It feels so intimate and everything's still so new. You still feel those little somersaults in your stomach every time he looks at you.

"How about...you enjoy the tea I made, and give yourself till midnight to work, hm?" Seonghwa's sweet smile returns, giving you a little bit of a break from his charms. "Then promise me you'll stop and come to bed. You can't do any work tomorrow if you're tired either." Finally breaking away from his gaze, you sigh and look down.

"I know, I know…I'll stop at midnight. And I'm sorry I ruined the evening. We were supposed to hang out," you say regretfully. Taking this short break made you realize how much your original plans for coming over had changed. Seonghwa had welcomed you into his place and let you get changed and work undisturbed for hours. Now when you really thought about it you felt guilty.

"You didn't ruin anything, y/n. I'm just happy you came over."

Seonghwa's finger goes under your chin and pulls it back up to face him. He pauses and stares at you for a second, the gears clearly turning in his head before he decides to slowly lean forward and close his eyes, giving you a chance to pull away or stop him if it's too much. But instead you take a breath and close your eyes, staying still, your heart thumping in your chest as Seonghwa tilts his head slightly and finally pushes his lips against yours, pillowy soft and warm. You sigh softly, releasing the breath you've been holding in as his hand reaches for the side of your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek repetitively. He starts to move his lips slightly, and you follow carefully, caught in his spell. Your hand even begins to creep up his chest slowly, getting caught up in the moment. You feel him smile slightly against your lips, then groan a little as he slows down before completely stopping, pulling away slightly. He stays close though, your noses still touching. You look up at him, eyes wide as you question:

"Did I do something wrong or…?"

"No! No, definitely not. That was amazing," Seonghwa says quickly, rubbing your arm again soothingly, clearly alarmed that you got the wrong idea. "I just...I just don't wanna distract you from your work. But I'm really glad you're feeling more comfortable around me. I know you still get nervous sometimes and I just want to be a source of comfort for you. I hate seeing you stressed."

You can't help but smile shyly at his words. Just being around Seonghwa instantly made you feel calmer. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you nod your head in reassurance to yourself before quickly leaning in and pecking his lips again. You grab his hand, running over it with your thumb. "Thank you. Really. I appreciate you so much."

Now it's his turn to look shocked. Seonghwa quickly gets out of it though, shaking his head a little playfully as he says, "of course. I'll see you in a little bit, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."