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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Burden

Part 6

Part 5 | Part 7

TW: fluff, a bit of pining, Dream fucks everything up like he does, arguments, depictions of violence, the glass cage is here y'all so buckle up, ANGST, betrayal, character death? This cliffhanger is one of my worst, like honestly I apologize in advance! 😅

“Try this one,” Lucienne suggested, setting the large book down in front of you.

With a soft sigh, you looked up at her and smiled. “We’ve tried this one before, my friend. It held no words then, I do not expect it to now.”

She quietly cursed herself, taking the book back and studying the cover until the memory returned to her. “One moment! I’ll find another!”

“Lucienne,” you replied quietly, reaching out to take her hand. “I greatly appreciate your efforts, but this is hardly necessary.”

“Reading is a beautiful thing,” she insisted. “And I am determined to find a book among these endless shelves that you, my lady, can enjoy.”

“I do enjoy them,” you insisted. “Lord Morpheus has been kind enough to read many of them to me.”

Lucienne gave you a quick, fleeting glance with that knowing smile of hers. “Very true, but it is different to be read to and to read with one's own eyes.”

You shook your head, laughing at her persistence. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

“Of course not!” She cried out, returning to her shelves. “I am the librarian after all. It’s my duty to ensure all in this place find what they’re seeking.”

“Very well,” you relented with a smile.

It had been nearly a year since the passing of Puck, and you’d spent more time within The Dreaming than anywhere else. It was nice to have others around to fill the hole left by the loss of yet another companion. The pain would never truly fade, it never did, but at least you did not have to mourn alone. Lucienne offered you friendship and knowledge without reservation. The handyman, Mervyn, was quick to fill your free moments with laughter and projects. Jessamy showed you the best spots to sit in for a moment of peace. Cain and Abel and Gregory provided enough company to make you feel like you were part of a family, even one as dysfunctional as theirs. The Corinthian had been distant, but he always accompanied you for a walk along the beach when you’d asked… though he was far quieter now, far less open with you than he had been in the past he remained your best friend. And Dream… he did everything within his power to make you feel welcomed and at peace.

He often reminded you of the last shaping stone that you wore around your neck in a beautiful necklace that he’d crafted for you. He assured you it would be different than the others, that its life would never fade as theirs had, but you were still afraid. What if your presence corrupted even that? What if you lost this final companion just as you did the others? No. Your heart couldn’t bear such a thing, not so shortly after Puck.

You and Dream hadn’t spoken of that day. Not of the way you’d held his hand or cried in his arms, and certainly not of the way you sought his hand out every moment after. If it bothered him, he hid it well, but part of you wanted desperately to believe he craved the simple act of affection as much as you did.

Jessamy flew beside you as you made your way to Cain and Abel's garden for afternoon tea. It had become a lovely ritual between you, one that had begun with an argument over whose house was best suited for tea and which brother had better cakes. Eventually, after Cain stabbed Abel once or twice, you all came to the agreement that tea in the garden would be just fine. You crossed the bridge and sadly smiled at the brother covered in dirt, beating his clothing off beside his door. “How deep did he bury you this time?”

Abel perked up at the sound of your voice. “Oh, not that deep! It was a small argument, so he just shoved me into the hole rather than buried me.”

“I am glad you did not have to dig your way out this time,” you said, quietly helping him.

“It wouldn’t be that horrible,” the man insisted, his smile never faltering. “Gregory would have helped.”

You heard the large creature leap down behind you, seeking to startle you as he always did. You let him, of course, the look of pride Gregory had was well worth the prolonged wait. He finally made a loud roaring noise and you jumped, twisting around with your hand over your heart. “Goodness! Gregory, darling creature I didn’t hear you!”

He huffed, rubbing his snout against you and sniffing at Abel with a light sneeze. Cain slammed his door shut and set the table without a word. Abel gestured to the plant you’d helped them with. “It grew another leaf!”

Bending over slightly, you examined the still small and frail plant with a silver stem and pale leaves. “That’s wonderful progress.”

“It’ll bloom in no time, I just know it!”

“Teas ready!” Cain hollered, dragging all of you over to the table. “It won’t be awful this time because it’s my tea we used.”

You thanked him as he filled your cup. The brothers used the same tea, though you weren’t going to be the one to tell them this. That certainly was a job for their king. “It’s lovely, Cain.”

Jessamy perched on the table, carefully dipping her beak into a cup of her own. “Tastes the same to me as the last one.”

Cain gave her a cold look. “It’s hardly the same! Your bird taste buds are just weak.”

“If you say so,” she mumbled taking a small piece of cake and eating it.

After drinking tea and having a slice of cake you always remained to play with Gregory. He tossed the ball high up into the air before bouncing it off his beak toward you. You weren't as good at the game as he was, but you both seemed to enjoy the company and simple rules.

When the sun began to set over the garden you bid your friends farewell and made your way toward the palace where Dream waited for you on the bridge. You couldn’t help the way your heartbeat stuttered at the sight of him, nor the way your cheeks burned and a smile formed. His head turned and one of the corners of his mouth twitched. “How was tea?”

“Lovely, as always,” you told him as the two of you fell into step with one another.

He hummed. “And the library? Did Lucienne have any luck finding you a book?”

You shook your head. “She did not, but it was still nice getting to spend time with her.”

“Shall we?” He gestured toward the path to the pier.

It had become a regular thing of Dream to accompany you through your work, one you appreciated greatly as he seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. “If you wish.”

“I do.”

You lifted your hand to him. “Then hold on.”

Things felt lighter with Morpheus beside you. The waters and those that dwelt within it felt warmer and safer. The dreams felt clear and your purpose felt almost good. There were nights when the darkness of the dreamer's fears was heavy, but on those nights you witnessed the mighty Dream of the Endless assert his power over his dominion to ease the shadow and dark.

The two of you walked hand in hand away from the pier, the soft quiet lapping of the water against the strong wood made you feel at ease beside him. The mist grew thicker and the familiar groans of the large trees echoed around you as your realm called you home.

“You can remain here,” Morpheus said, his hand softly squeezing yours.

“I know,” you said equally as softly. “But The Forest needs me, just as your realm needs you.”

He bowed his head. “I understand. Farewell, Daunt.”

You bowed in return. “Farewell, Morpheus. Will you visit tomorrow?”

“If that is your wish.”

“It is.”

He smiled. “Then I shall.”

The mist swirled around you, but your eyes never left his, not until he disappeared from your side completely. Back in the safety and quiet of your realm, you could let yourself feel the burning yearning that grew in your heart with each passing day. Here among the moss and the small flowers and trees, you could let yourself admit that you were becoming more attached to the being you once hated. Of course, you never let yourself think about it for long. You made your way back to your small hut and quietly shut the door, encasing the space in the heat from the fire.

Among your trinkets and the clothes Dream had made for you was an empty bed. You touched the stone around your neck as memories played in your head. Memories of Fern and Gaia and Puck and all the others that had warmed the bed while you were away and greeted you fondly when you returned. You missed each one of them so very much, and normally that would be enough to lead you to wake the stone, but now you had others to rely on. The Dreaming and those that lived within it were all you needed for now.

The Forest greeted you as it always did, with low groans and waves of mist. However, something felt different this time as you walked along the jagged path, something that became clear as you stopped at the bridge. The black-clad Endless stood looking out at the river, their blonde hair and gaudy shoulder pieces shifting in the light breeze. “Desire.”

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for ages.” They smirked. “Did you get enough beauty sleep?”

“What do you want?” You demanded, skipping over the fake polite conversation to get straight to the point and hopefully one step closer to their departure.

"You know how this will end, don't you Mistake?" Desire cooed as they looked back at you, their eyes cosmic blue and their hair messy and dark. "You will only ever be his consort, his whore, never his equal. Others far more beautiful and important have tried and failed before you. My big brother will never change."

"You're wrong." You said, ignoring the way your stomach lurched at the way their words. "He has changed."

Desire laughed and shook their head at you. "When my brother casts you aside, and he will cast you aside little Mistake, I hope you'll remember how I tried to warn you."

Just like before Desire left without another word, but the feeling of heaviness remained in your chest and lungs. The Forest still stank with their honeyed perfume and their bitter words. It only began to fade when another came, replacing the bitterness with sweetened ethereal stardust and citrus. Your heart felt lighter as you watched the thick trees bend their roots to forge a path for him.

Dream smiled, admiring the thick dark wood and emerald leaves. “It would seem your realm has at last taken a liking to me.”

“And to think all it took was a few hundred years and some good behavior.”

He tucked a strand of your hair back into place, his eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you. “Hello, Daunt.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue so sweetly. “Hello, Morpheus.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Is everything well?”

“It is,” you said, choosing not to tell him of his siblings' sudden appearance and manipulating words.

Like most times Morpheus visited your realm the two of you walked among the trees and you showed him things that had changed or appeared since his last visit. The two of you retired to your home where you offered him tea and he inquired about some of the trinkets you’d collected over the years. As you told your stories, his eyes remained fixed on you, shining and bright and full of something you did not want to name. His soft laughter was intoxicating and you found it harder and harder to deny the truth to yourself.

The two of you sat in your wilted garden as you looked over a pile of books Lucienne had sent with the Dream Lord to see if any held words you could see. “With the stories you hold, I doubt you’ll find a book more interesting.”

You smiled at him. “My stories are hardly more interesting than the words you inspire in your dreamers.”

“On the contrary,” he insisted, the closeness of him making it hard to ignore his strong jaw and his perfectly shaped lips. “I would rather listen to your stories than hear that of the greatest dreamers.”

“Is it my stories that interest you, or my voice?” You teased.

“Can it not be both?”

A blush rose to your cheeks as you glanced away. “I suppose it could be.”

His cold fingers stroked down your cheek and curled around your chin, carefully turning your face back towards his. Your breath caught in your throat as he watched you. Those beautiful eyes you’d come to love so much focused on every part of your face before he spoke, “You are beautiful, Daunt. More beautiful than any book or dream I could ever inspire or create.”

“You give yourself too little credit.”

“You are the one that is not given enough credit,” he replied as your faces drifted closer.

It was a featherlight touch of your lips against his, so light you couldn’t consider it a kiss. After the spark of the sudden contact faded, you found yourself being pulled in closer until Dream's lips pressed fully to yours. All the air left your lungs as you moved with him, your hands fisting in his dark cloak and sliding up to feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips. Dream released your chin, only to cup the back of your neck and angle your head up giving him the access he needed to deepen the kiss.

All around you warmth spread and the sound of petals opening echoed in your ears until you had to pull away. Breathlessly you looked around, eyes wide and nearly full of tears at the sight of your garden full of blooming flowers of every size and color. Dream chuckled, pressing his lips to your jaw for a short moment. “That was unexpected.”

You looked back at him and smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“I did nothing,” he replied. “This realm is yours. It is your power they bent to, not mine.”

Deep in your chest, your heart soared. Desires words were long forgotten as you curled into the chilled arms of the Dream King and admired your garden.

Weeks passed since you shared your first kiss with Dream of the Endless. It was odd, to say the least, but changed little between the two of you. Neither of you would admit that you craved to kiss again… that you craved to do more than just kiss, and so you spent your time together awkwardly talking about anything and everything else. The two of you had begun to spend more time among company to avoid things growing awkward, but this meant that you both had to suffer the looks from Lucienne. The ones that dripped with sarcasm and a silent but still somehow audible Are the two of you serious? Every accidental touch felt like fire on your skin and left you a blushing mess.

The only moments of reprieve from this were with The Corinthian, who’d heard of your kiss and immediately dry heaved. The two of you alone were fine, but when Dream joined the picture the tension between the two put both of them in a foul mood. For a split second, you’d entertained the thought that Dream was… jealous of your closeness with his nightmare, but that had dissipated quickly. Dream of the Endless jealous? Absolutely not.

In recent days Dream was on edge. He was constantly busy with work and often had no more than a few moments to spend with you before he had to leave. Those short moments were tense in every sense and made you feel guilty for being here and bothering him. No matter how many times he assured you that it was not your doing, you still felt this weight settle in your gut. You’d known the Endless being for a very long time, and for most of that the two of you were not exactly on good terms, so you were used to his short temper and the sometimes harshness in his words, but unlike before he always apologized to you. While he was busy you spent more time with The Corinthian, hoping if you kept the nightmare busy enough he’d not be able to contribute to Dream's stress.

“Stop that,” you scolded, picking the little flower out of The Corinthian’s hands as he tore the petals off.

He sighed. “It’s a flower, Daunty, not some little pixie.”

You settled back into his side. “Flowers are living things of their own. Especially the ones that grow here. I doubt Fiddler’s Green appreciates your manhandling of the flora.”

“Well it’s a good thing Fiddler's Green is nothing more than grass and dirt then, isn’t it?”

The grass bent away from him at his words and the ground beneath him puffed out, creating uncomfortable lumps where he sat. The Corinthian groaned and stood up, stomping the ground. You laughed running your fingers through the silky blades of grass. “I don’t think Fiddler’s Green appreciates your sarcasm.”

Once the lumps evened out The Corinthian sat back down. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“Lighten up,” you said, bumping him with your shoulder. “If you’d be a little nicer then maybe you’d have more friends than just me.”

“Nice isn’t in my nature,” he insisted tilting his shades down.

You touched his cheek. “You’re nice to me.”

“You’re the exception, not the rule fair lady.” He turned his gaze away from you again and that wave of discontent washed over you.

Laying your head on his shoulder you sighed. “I adore you, Corinthian.”

He chuckled and laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah, me too Daunty.”

The two of you rested beneath the trees of Fiddler’s Green for a long while until The Corinthian had to return to his duties, or simply wished to cause trouble before night fell. This time, however, it was Dream that interrupted the two of you. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stood in front of his nightmare, eyes dark and body tense. “Corinthian, you have duties to attend to.”

“Do I?” Your friend questioned with a wide grin. “My apologies, your majesty. I shall attend them at once.”

He turned and smiled down at you, tipping his hat. “Lady Daunt.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Dear Corinthian. Do try to behave.”

Standing, almost toe to toe with Dream the nightmare laughed. “But of course.”

Dream did not relax, not even when the nightmare left the meadow. “You should mind him more carefully.”

“What?”

“The Corinthian is my most fearsome nightmare, not a pet for you to play with.” He hissed. “His duties and his function are more important than you know.”

You blinked, slightly shocked by his ornery behavior. “I do not need a lecture on the importance of one's functions. I’ve done nothing to disrupt his duties.”

“You’ve done more than you think,” he replied, looking away in the direction his nightmare left. With a sigh, he returned his gaze to you. “I have a meeting with an old friend. I trust you’ll be alright here while I am gone.”

Still slightly upset by his ever-darkening mood and flippant temper you merely nodded. “Of course, I will be.”

“I shall return soon.” He bowed his head and turned on his heel, leaving you behind and alone in the meadow.

As you remained the tension slowly drained from you and once again you were content to relax against the tree. It was difficult for you, seeing Dream in such a foul mood. Though you knew it was not aimed at you, per se, and was the cause of stresses he dealt with during his own duties seeing him in such a way always made you fearful. You heard the sharp sound of twigs snapping and there, across the way a tall buck stood watching you.

It was a beautiful beast, tall with ornate antlers and a deep rich coat of brown and tan. It sniffed the air of Fiddler’s Green for a moment before it bent its head down to nip at the grass below. A deep sense of wonder filled you, pulling you up from your spot and easing you forward, toward the creature. As you got closer it lifted its head up and huffed a hot breath in your face.

“Easy,” you whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

For a minute the both of you paused, watching one another closely until you lifted your hand toward it. A beat passed before the buck lifted its snout to your open hand and a rush of joy filled your lungs. You laughed softly, stroking its snout gently as the fur began to turn white beneath your palm. As it spread, filling the coat of the creature you smiled. The buck settled onto the ground and laid its head in your lap, groaning in pleasure when you’d scratch a certain spot.

The sun had finally set and the stars filled the sky as you watched the gentle creature. “White looks lovely on you.”

Hours passed and the creature remained at your side. You were excited to show Dream that such a magnificent beast did not fear you and had relaxed at your side, but when The Dreaming quaked and the night sky clouded over with darkness and rain your excitement quickly shifted to worry. A few moments later you could see the blazing flames at his feet and the glowing eyes of Dream of the Endless fix upon you.

“What happened?” You asked, concerned that his meeting had gone poorly.

“What did you do?” Was his reply as his eyes fixed on the creature now looking up at him startled.

You stroked a comforting hand down its snout. “He came from the woods to graze and trusted me to come close.”

Shadow and flame seethed over his stiff form as his wide, watery eyes looked at his creation, now snowy white, and venom filled his voice as he stalked forward. "What have you done?"

"I did nothing," you whispered.

"Was it not your touch that did this?" He spat, gesturing to the buck, an action that caused it to rise from your lap and skirt backward.

You too recoiled slightly, before standing and reaching out toward him. “Morpheus I… I’m sorry I didn’t think-”

His hand gripped yours tightly, squeezing until you could feel the bones groan and grind together beneath the skin. “That is the problem! You didn’t think! It is your lack of thought that causes The Corinthian to act out, to challenge and defy me.”

The Corinthian? You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes. “I haven’t said anything to him about defiance. Morpheus, please let me -”

“No.” He said, voice low and rumbling like thunder. "Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy."

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you looked at him, regarding you with the same expression he had for so long before. Dream looked at you now as though you were nothing... Nothing more than a burden. You were prepared for this, weren't you? How many years had you spent by his side fearing this exact thing?

It wasn't real… And perhaps it never had been.

You bowed your head, steeling your emotions. "Fear not, Dream Lord, I'll not make such mistakes again."

His eyes softened slightly, but Dream did not relent, he could not. He kept his head held high as you turned away and when he felt you vanish from his realm he kept it there. Dream did not listen to Lucienne's quiet concerns, nor did he permit Jessamy to speak on the matter. Whether he believed it was your fault or not mattered little now. What was done was done and now there was only the way forward.

All while you walked alone to your hut you heard Desire's voice echo all around you, the forest darker than it had ever been, the restlessness within it unending as the tiny specks of sunlight vanished. "Never his equal."

The flowers that had begun to grow along the path and beyond it wilted as you passed by. "My big brother will never change."

The mist curled around you, heavy and cold. "I hope you'll remember how I tried to warn you."

Nothing felt like yours anymore, not The Forest, the paths he'd treaded beside you just days ago. Not your hut, the soft cushioned surfaces he'd sat by your side and stroked your cheek free of tears. Not your clothes, the multitude of soft clothes he'd made and gifted to you. Not your collection of trinkets, the ones you'd placed in his hands and shared your stories with him.

All of it everywhere was filled with echoes of him, his scent, his power, his lies. With a strangled noise, you tore it all apart, throwing every last trinket and piece of furniture until only the broken pieces lay around you. Your hand curled around the shaping stone, the last surviving thing that hummed with dreams.

You lifted your arm, anger and hate filling your lungs as you prepared to throw it, shatter it and free yourself from the torturous presence it held. The pulse of life in your hand stopped you. It was a piece of something young and innocent and new. A life yet unlived. And there beside that, it held a piece of him, of star-filled skies, of moonlight paths and music and dancing. The part of Dream that had made you feel seen… That made you feel beautiful and worthy. It held Morpheus the being you had foolishly fallen in love with.

With a harsh sob, you lowered your arm, cradling the stone to your chest as you fell to the ground and wept. Warmth filled your hand as the stone spurred to life. "You know how this will end, don't you Mistake?"

Dream looked at the stained glass depiction of his nightmare looming over his throne, holding his helm tightly in his hands. He’d spent months listening to The Corinthians ever increasing words of defiance and outbursts, but he never truly thought the nightmare would go so far. It was easy to pinpoint the event that resulted in such unruly behavior, the two were always close. Daunt had not returned to The Dreaming since that night in Fiddler’s Green. He’d not locked the doors or banished her from his realm, yet there was still no sight of her, not even on the beaches or the pier.

Of course, he hadn’t been looking for her. Part of him still felt so angry at Hob Gadlings' accusations of needing companionship and at Daunt’s unexpected changing of one of his creatures, however unintentional it was. But it was not his anger that barred him from seeking Daunt out, it was his shame. How long had he nurtured the trust between them? How long had he wanted for her to feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch his creations, interact with his world in full only to punish her the moment she actually did it? Shame disguised as pride was a dangerous and horrible thing.

“My Lord?” Lucienne’s tentative voice broke him away from his thoughts and brought him back to the matter at hand. The Corinthian loose in the Waking World. His grip on his helm tightened. “Could you not… perhaps call upon Lady Daunt to follow after The Corinthian? The two were friends-”

“No.” He ground his teeth together. “This does not concern her.”

“You are coming back, aren’t you?”

Jessamy cawed at his feet. “Why would I not return, Lucienne?”

“I don’t know, a presentiment. As powerful as you are here, in your realm, dreams rarely survive in the Waking World.” He donned his helm and poured the sand from his pouch into the palm of his hand, feeling it swirl at his feet as his librarian continued. “Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there.”

“Here in the Darkness.” The disembodied voices echoed through the darkness that settled over your realm as bodies of shadow, creatures of hollow dreams, and rouge nightmares roamed your woods freely. At first, you thought this to be some punishment of Dreams, but The Forest cried out louder. “Here in the darkness.”

A shadow lunged for you, caught by the vines of the trees and dragged away before it could touch you. Another followed, scratching at your feet for a short moment before a flash of white leaped down and the sharp teeth closed around its throat with a sickening crunch. The white wolf looked up at you, deep blue eyes wide with worry. “Are you harmed, my lady?”

“No,” you assured the creature with a gentle touch. “I am fine, Sirius.”

Blue eyes flared to the remained shadows that the mist held at bay. “What are these creatures?”

You shook your head, examining them from your safe place. “Old shadows, spirits that were lost to The Forest long ago… though some are Nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes, beings belonging to The Dreaming and to the Dream Lord.”

“He dares invade our realm?”

A chill ran up your spine and the ground quaked beneath you. “Here in the darkness.”

“No,” you whispered. “I fear this is something far more sinister.”

You hadn’t planned on returning to The Dreaming, not this soon at least, but your realm cried out and writhed in pain. The only one that could be responsible was Dream and so there you were, standing before the Gates of Horn and Ivory. Something was wrong. The sky was dull and the sand felt like it was a breath away from falling into nothingness. You reached up, but before you could even touch the gates they shook and groaned, opening of their own accord to reveal the lush forests and beautiful trees dead. All green was gone, replaced by black decay and crumbling stone.

There were very few Dreams and Nightmares in the town, all of them growing void of color and joy. The bridge to the palace quaked beneath your feet as you strode through the front doors of the palace and looked upon the empty throne. “Dream Lord?”

Sirius fell into place beside you, looking at the dull blue room warily. “This is the great palace of Dreams?”

“Dream?” You called again, louder this time.

“Daunt?” Lucienne’s voice replied as she hurried around the corner and smiled sadly. “Oh, my lady!”

You caught her in a tight hug. “What’s happened?”

She shook her head, tears forming behind her glasses. “Lord Morpheus… He’s missing.”

“Missing?” Memories of Destructions unexpected departure resurfaced. “When? Where?”

“A month ago…” She bowed her head. “Everyone else has given up hope… they say he has abandoned us as Destruction did his realm.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp escaping from your lips. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

Lucienne’s eyes widened as she clutched the book she held to her chest. “Do you suppose this has something to do with The Corinthian?”

“The Corinthian?” Pain filled every breath you took. “It is your lack of thought that causes The Corinthian to act out, to challenge and defy me.”

“Yes, Lord Morpheus went to the Waking World to retrieve him.” Lucienne grimaced. “He fled to the Waking World and began… overstepping.”

"Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy." He had been right. You had done this… Had twisted his greatest creation with your touch and words… had caused him to flee his role. Is this what happened to Destruction as well? Was this part of your curse upon the universe?

Sirius nudged you, a soothing gesture he often did when you froze. “My lady, we should return to The Forest.”

You shook your head again, fighting back tears. “No. If Dream’s disappearance has caused such a disturbance there it will not be remedied until he returns.”

“What shall we do then?”

“Where was The Corinthian last? If I can find him perhaps he will lead me to Dream.”

Lucienne nodded, quickly consulting the book in her hands. “London. Here is the address. Please, my lady Daunt…” She let loose a shaking breath. “Bring him home. I know the two of you have been… distant… but-”

You set your hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I will bring him back, I swear it.”

You’d spent weeks in the Waking World, searching the streets of London for The Corinthian or Dream, yet found nothing. Sirius had been traveling back and forth between London and The Dreaming and The Forest, as you tried desperately to keep things from falling apart. Without Dream, you could always hear the desperate voices of the dreamers crying out, pained and broken as they pleaded with any god or being that would listen. It made sleep elude you, made every waking moment a never-ending nightmare. You had to find him.

Sirius vanished into the mist, back to The Forest where more creatures tore down barrier after barrier and threatened to take over your realm entirely. Everything was twisted and mangled and reeked of Despair. Whether the Endless twins had anything to do with this you still didn’t know, but you would find out one way or another after you found Dream.

You’d traveled further out of the town than normal, and made your way to a bridge that by the look of it led to some kind of house, a manor perhaps. For a moment you stood still, resting your hand on the edge of the bridge as the water echoed through your ears. You should have felt him, his power or presence, something. But there was nothing, only the river, the bridge, and the breeze. Just as you were about to turn around you heard it, a distant caw and the desperate beating of wings.

A voice. Jessamy. “Daunt!” Another caw echoed as you lifted your eyes to the sky, hope unfurling in your chest. “Daunt!”

“Jessamy!” You cried out, taking a half-step forward.

“NO!” The bird called out, trying to fly faster.

You were about to ask her what was wrong, what had happened, and where Dream was, but a calm hand resting on your shoulder stopped you. “I was hoping you’d give up, Daunty.”

“Corinthian?” You breathed turning to face your friend, but it was not your friend you laid eyes on… only the nightmare. The sting of steel tearing through your chest was unexpected and far more painful than you thought it would be. Gasping you looked down at the blade, at the blood that now stained your white dress, and at the shaking hand that held the hilt of the knife.

"I'm sorry Daunt…" The Corinthians' lips quivered, and his blade dug deeper into your chest. "But I can't let you free him."

You cupped his cheek, tears streaming down your face as one last cold breath slid past your lips, "My dear Corinthian..."

Jessamy’s screams and desperate caws echoed in your ears as you stumbled back from the nightmare. You fell over the edge of the stone bridge and down into the cold depths below. As you sank further and further down the water turned red before your eyes and a strong current pulled at your limp body, dragging you back toward the surface. The familiar misty canopy of the great tree greeted you, but The Forest groaned and the ground shook beneath you. Your body burned as the frost-ridden mist settled lower and the water that now flooded the roots of the great tree began to rise.

A dark figure appeared in the mist, walking languidly toward you while clapping slowly. “My, my, what a sorry sight you make.”

Desire. Their golden eyes appeared first, then the wide red Cheshire smile you loathed so much. The Forest grew louder as the leaves on the trees began to shake and shift from their mystic dark emerald to poisoned, rotted scarlet. The Endless bent over and took your chin in their hand. “I did tell you this would happen, didn’t I?”

You drew a deep, stuttered breath, “Leave.”

“Oh, little Mistake,” they purred. “It’s not very polite to bite the hand that’s here to save you.”

Save you? Pain flared in your chest and the roots of the trees began to move, drawing you in. Desire made a face, shifting to accommodate the wood before returning their burning eyes to you. “I can heal you, take you far from this dying little realm of yours and give you all your pathetic little heart desires. All I ask in return is that when the time comes you’ll help me bring my big brother to his knees.”

Even weak, dying, you scoffed. “I… Would rather die than betray Dream.”

“He has already betrayed you, Mistake.” Their grip on your chin grew tighter. “You are nothing to him. A burden he must shoulder. I could give you a grand palace, subjects to rule and worship you, a crown of gold and rubies. Everything you desire can be yours.”

“No,” You whispered in response. No matter how grand a kingdom Desire gave you, no matter how many subjects they offered or gold or rubies it would never be what you wanted, what you craved and desired with all of your being.

Love. It was all you wanted since the beginning of your life. For so long all you’d desired was someone to love you as you loved them… though back then you didn’t know the true depth of it. Back then you couldn’t have known that it was Dream you’d wanted to love you. Desire scowled at you and gripped the knife, still lodged into your chest, twisting as they spoke. “Stupid, idiotic, pathetic thing! Who are you to refuse my generosity? You are nothing but a mistake! You are a burden!”

They pulled the dagger out of your chest and lifted it, poised and ready to deal the final blow when Sirius leaped from the mist with an angry growl, latching onto Desire's wrist and forcing them to the ground. You could hear the struggle between the wolf and the Endless being, but you were too weak to aid your companion. A loud whimper and a booming frustrated cry echoed in the air before you felt Desire’s foreboding presence vanish from your world. Sirius returned to your side, one of his bright blue eyes now marred with a deep cut.

“My lady,” he whispered, lifting himself up to press a paw to your still bleeding wound. “How can I help you… What must I do?”

Redwater sloshed beneath you as the roots of the trees continued to groan and twist around you. “Stay. Stay beside me until the end.”

Sirius curled into your side, burying his snout into the crook of your neck. “Always, my lady.”

Frost settled onto the trees and moss as snow began to fall from the darkened sky. The mist grew thicker as darkness descended on The Forest. Above the cracking of the tree roots and the rushing water and the sinister whispers the saddened, fearful whines of a loyal companion could be heard through every dream and nightmare. All would hear your quiet labored breaths and feel the cold overtake your skin. All but the man with stars in his eyes trapped behind the glass. All but Dream of the Endless.

149 notes · View notes

trulyhblue · 4 months

Text

Baby England

Lionesses x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x reader (platonic).

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, coarse language, school, young reader.

A/N — still can't get over Sam's ACL. Like I woke up just to cry? No, thank you.

Masterlist

___________________________________

The Games Room was quiet for what seemed to be the first time ever. The team was sprawled throughout the room, some of them on their phones, others by mountains of pillows. Georgia and Keira were in the indoor pitch juggling with one another. Alex was having a soft conversation with Hempo, laughing at something one of them had said.

The serenity of the room was something you didn't catch often. Usually, the hustle of the team would echo across the walls, loud pints of laughter and screaming coming from one corner of the room to the other. Lucy was often yelling at Mario Kart, and Ellie was always strutting around Table Tennis in triumph, while everyone else grumbled on about how she was too good.

But for now, it was silent, save for the low conversations from the different groups. Even Lessi and Tooney were keeping in check, sharing a rocking chair with mounds of blankets hauled over the top of them.

For anyone else in the room, it would've been extremely relaxing.

For you, it was anything but.

You wanted to snap your pen in half, feeling the fatigue of yesterday's game daunting on your muscles. The words on your laptop were dancing behind the blur of your eyes. You struggled to stay concentrated as Leah sat next to you, taking her eyes off her phone every once while to make sure you were actually doing your homework.

The Euros were speeding by quicker than any of you could imagine. The outcome of your results, and the number of fans that had started to compile over the weeks, was indescribable. This was your debut camp for the Lionesses, and while you spent most of your time on the bench, making late appearances in the 70th minutes of games, you wouldn't change it for the world.

However, with all the excitement and privilege that came with representing your country in such a prestigious competition at Sixteen, you were faced with the challenge of keeping up with school.

When you first signed with the Lionesses, your parents were determined to keep you in school. Your education was very important, and if football ever ended badly for you, they wanted you to have something to fall back on. Growing up through the youth groups, and developing skills in the Arsenal Academy, you were used to the physical and emotional demands of a professional football career. Your parents were incredibly supportive of your dream to play, but their underlying worry when you were called up to the National Team was daunted on them.

So, to make everyone happy, you decided to take on the complicated challenge of juggling both football and school. This meant that in your spare time, all you did was study for exams, take the exams, and then study for the next one. It was an endless cycle of school and work, but you knew that it would be all worth it in the end.

The worst thing about it was that none of the girls were your age. Some of them had Uni work to do, but you were still mastering high school subjects. The workload wasn't nearly as draining, and they seemed to have it all sorted out in a few short hours while you were spending all of your extra time peeling away your useless worksheets, essays and papers.

Lots of the girls were lenient. None of them liked the idea of you cooped up in front of a screen. Hempo would buy you some crisps from down the road. Mary would make TikToks with you, Beth would scoop you up for cuddles and a movie. LJ would pull you away for Mario Kart. All the girls believed that you needed a break, especially in such a stressful time.

But Leah was the exact opposite.

You had known Leah since you were seven. You had met her during one of your Arsenal Youth games, immediately looking up to her as an older sister and role model. Even as a teenager, Leah holds a protective arm around you. She was always ready to defend you on the pitch, not only as a Captain, but as a friend. She wasn't afraid to put you in line — she was the only one who could send you running laps if you were too cheeky. She was strict, especially when you parents weren't there to boss you around, and everyone knew that her authority over you was nothing to debate.

You were training with the Arsenal Women's Team while you were still at the Academy. You're not quite sure why you were chosen in the squad, as you struggled to believe you made the cut at such a young age, but the England Captain didn't hesitate to make you put in the work.

She was a bit like your agent, always persuading you to do something when you weren't sure what to do yourself. You still weren't signed with a WSL team, but as the Euros progressed, teams from everywhere were banking up to sign you as soon as possible. You tried hard not to delve too deeply into it. You knew Arsenal was a main contender, and that's where you most wanted to go, but your focus right now was the Euros... and the essay in front of you.

"C'mon, get it done," Leah ordered, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, her hand carrying the weight on her head against the desk. You had been sitting there for over an hour, a total of one paragraph typed out on your screen. Outside, you could see Beth and Lotte playing Basketball. You threw your head backwards, groaning in respite. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

"No use whining about it." She spoke, still not looking at you. "'Might as well smash it out now so it's done."

"'Dunno what to write about." You grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. You managed to slip a glance towards Esme, feeling your hopes lift up when she gave you a knowing nod.

But of course, Leah caught the interaction. "Hempo, no." She snapped, sending the Forward back to her seat. "You don't get crisps when you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Leah-"

"-Get on with it."

You slouched back into your chair, making sure your Huff was loud and overly obnoxious. Leah had no reaction, leaning back in her chair, and continuing to scroll on her phone.

"Y/N." She murmured in warning.

When you made no effort to keep going, she finally looked at you.

You could tell she was over it. She wasn't obliged to sit with you, but it was an unspoken rule that she did, otherwise, you would never get it finished. The older woman secretly felt bad for making you do it. If it was her choice, you wouldn't be doing school during the tournament. She understood your reluctance, but both of you could guess the consequences of your actions if you weren't handing it in.

"You've got half an hour." She snapped, her glare darkening. If she wasn't strict now, it'd end badly. "If it's not done, I'll bench you."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lauren stop her Lego abruptly. Esme was no longer looking at her phone, instead tilting her head away from the tension rising in an attempt to not get involved.

Leah didn't have the power to bench anyone, the older girls knew that. But to your virtue, you thought that Leah was capable of anything. An abuse of power, maybe, but it worked all the same.

You begrudgingly tapped at your keyboard, making a point to roll you eyes when Leah set an alarm for half an hour. You were determined to keep your spot as a preferred sub, refusing to let Leah feel all smug at the fact that you couldn't finish the stupid essay.

Lauren continued on with her Lego. Esme was starting a new bracelet. Beth and Lotte's giggles were drowned out by the determination written all over your face. Without your knowledge, more and more people began to cram into the Game Room. First, Lucy, then Kei and Gee. A few minutes later, Alessia and Ella were doing a TikTok, their voices growing louder as the minutes went by. LJ walked past with confusion written across her features. She leaned over your shoulder, eyes slightly widening at the page full of words. She glanced to Leah's phone and the timer, then at Leah, who was staring off into the distance.

By five minutes left, you had written nearly two whole pages. Your hands were cramping, and your feet couldn't keep still. Chloe and Katie were surrounding you behind LJ, waiting for you to snap out of your trance and notice the crowd that had complied.

You were reading over your final sentences when the door crashed open, revealing Millie and Rach running in frantically with a cameraman hot on their trail. Their presence was so boisterous that everyone stopped to see who it was, watching in curiosity when the two women started searching the room.

"We need the Baby!" Millie screamed, scrambling onto the floor to check underneath the lounge. "We need the baby!"

Rachel was running to the bean bags, dashing past Lucy, Keira and Georgia playing Mario Kart. Everyone laughed in amusement at the cameraman struggling to keep up with the two of them.

"Where is she?!" Rach screeched at Esme and Lauren, ignoring the fits of giggle the pair were in. "Where's the baby?"

"Over here, idiots," Zelem stated, causing both their heads to dart in your direction. The girls surrounding you were quick to scatter, knowing the wrath of the two women was not something easily escapeable. Millie was about to yank you from under your shoulders when Leah moved in front of you, her prior amusement halting, replaced with her usual sternness.

You were closing your laptop at the sight of the camera, beaming at the thought of freeing yourself.

"Not now, Bright," Leah uttered, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. "She's got school."

Instead of leaving you be, the duo closed in on you, beckoning the camera over to your work sprawled across the table.

Both of them held tiny mics, holding them up to their mouths as they spoke.

"Here we've got the Arsenal Protege in her natural habitat. Born and raised in red, she seems to be researching ways to leave."

"Both Arsenal and Leah."

Leah's face contorted into deep offence. "Hey!"

"Yes, it appears she is." Rachel nodded vigorously, picking up your book, pretending to read it. "She has written down Aston Villa as her top contender. Not only is she fast, but smart too."

Millie hugged you from behind. "But we all know what side of London she's thinking of, isn't that right? Smart, little, blue she'll be, am I right, Williamson?"

The camera panned to Leah, who was not looking at all amused. The thought of you being at any other club felt absolutely gut-wrenching to her. Like her, you had grown up bleeding in North London. She wouldn't trade any other player twice as good as you if that meant you'd stay. But while she'd never admit it, Leah wasn't worried about you leaving Arsenal. She was more worried that you'd leave her.

"Over my dead body." She snapped, wrenching the Chelsea woman's arms away from you, swerving your chair back to face your laptop. "Now, off you go, she needs to get this done."

"I've finished it, Lee." You muttered, feeling embarrassed at the fact that fans would prune over the way you were bossed around. When it came to your figure in the media, it was mainly regarding your blamelessness in comparison to your more experienced teammates. You were often babied by the girls, and fans adored the interactions you would have with them, especially with Leah.

Your Captain looked at you, crossing her arms. "You promise me you're done?"

"Promise." Your cheeks heated as the snickers fell from Daly's lips. You nodded, slowly inching off your seat. "Please, Lee, I've been stuck here for hours."

"Yeah, c'mon, Williamson, let her come to the dark side." Millie barked, causing Leah to grumble at the notion.

It took her a few moments to decide whether or not to let you go, huffing in defeat when she turned off her phone. "Fine. But no Chelsea or Villa talk, swear to Go—"

You were off before she could finish her lecture. Millie had picked you up, lifting you over her shoulders as Rach followed behind. The three of you ran into the indoor training pitch, with the poor cameraman following after you hopelessly.

When Millie plopped you down, you engulfed the warmth of someone's lap. You craned your head back to find Jordan looking back at you, her beady, toothy grin beaming back at you. The Arsenal midfielder wrapped her arms around you as you made the effort to snuggle into her body. Jordan was like your second mother when you were away from home. She was an ongoing support that wore her heart on her sleeve. She was different from Leah's opposing relentless, being more of a calm before the storm, less sentimental but effusive nonetheless.

You were supposed to be Jordan's substitute during your time at the Euros, but her knee injury had ruled her out. Therefore, the woman was only there when the squad wasn't training.

You noticed the multiple cameras surrounding the couch you were all squeezed on, but the attention felt a little less daunting with the comfort of the girls around you.

"We've got some questions for you," Millie spoke, revealing some palm cards from God knows where.

You nodded, keeping your head on Jord's chest. "Ask away."

"Who is your favourite teammate?"

You thought to yourself for a second before shrugging. "Jordan."

Rach scoffed. "Boring."

"Yeah, next!" Millie rolled her eyes. "Who would win in a fight, me or Daly?"

"Why am I answering these?!" You laughed, shaking your head. "You could've asked anyone."

"Those aren't the real questions." Jordan prodded, leading the two women to laugh their heads off at their supposed humour. You looked around at everyone, extremely confused about what you were here for. There were a few PR Managers behind the media setup, all with clipboards in their hands. You managed to catch Jordan eyeing Bright and Daly, squeezing your body a little tighter.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just having a laugh." Mils chortled, straightening up before continuing. "We're to announce that Baby England here has been asked to answer a few questions on behalf of the team."

You watched the centre-back intently. "Why me?"

"Dunno." Rach shrugged, followed shortly by Mil's voice. "Just 'cause."

"Alright, then, by who?"

"God, you'd think with all that schoolwork you'd be a bit brighter."

Jordan huffed from behind you. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright." Rachel scoffed, taking out the same cards as Millie had, the England Lioness logo plastered on the back. "So, seriously now, how do you think the Lionesses have worked throughout the Euros?"

You were never the one to be faced with serious questions in interviews. In fact, you had only ever attended one or two. At Arsenal, you were in the Academy, meaning the media surrounding you and your team was very scarce. As a representative of your National Team, the two interviews you had been a part of were your induction and your Player of the Match award at the end of one of the games. You weren't used to being in the spotlight like your England teammates, but you were not opposed to being overshadowed by them either. You knew you had a lot to learn, you were happy to play alongside them.

“Erm, I'm not quite sure.” You posed, blushing at the laughter that followed. “I'm very proud to be a part of it… this is a big opportunity for me, and I'm grateful for having the chance to represent my country.”

“True English,” Mils said fondly, finding the camera with her eyes. “Modest as always.”

Jordan hugged you tighter. “Let her finish, Millie.”

“But I think all of the girls think that, even to a bigger scale than me.” You continued, fidgeting with your hands. “It's a home Euros so… we all want to bring it home. I think that's one of the main contributors — the pressure, but also the idea of winning. We all want our families and country to be proud. So, yeah, and because we all love football. That's a given.”

“That was a bloody good answer, Baby England,” Rach commented. Her hand was rubbing your shoulder, her legs crossed over each other on the lounge. The Defender behind her was smiling, propping herself into a more comfortable position before she spoke.

“Speaking of,” She smirked. “Are you bothered by your nickname ‘Baby England?’ Do you feel a bit bugged by it?”

You giggled into Jordan, your cheeks inevitably heating up. “Erm, yes and no. I mean, I know I'm the youngest but I’ll go back to training and the girls will be teasing me for it.”

“Do you want to stay in the Academy?” Rach asked. “What’s your plans after the Euros?”

“Not sure.” You shrugged. “Hopefully we finish with Gold, that's the hope, obviously. But, I’ll just have to see.”

Both women looked at each other, then the camera, hiding their smiles concurrently. Jordan and you watched in confusion.

“Should we start the list of offers you've got right now?” Daly chortled. “I can think of five on the top of my head.”

“Who’s your top five?” Millie continued, leaning in and mouthing her club Chelsea.

“Leah would kill me!” You laughed, shaking off the question. “I was talking to Lessi and Lotte about the States, cause my parents still want me to have an education. But to be fair, my agent hasn't told me any offers. I don't think she will until the Euros are over.”

“Well, you heard it hear first.” Rachel beamed. “Baby England to Villa!”

The Cameraman was about to end the video when a booming fury echoed from across the room.

All heads turned to an enraged Leah storming over. “I said no Villa talk!”

__________________________________

yourusername (pretend it's you and Leah)

yourusername — sorry @ rachdaly, no Villa talk

Comments

milliebright — u say nothing about Chelsea, right?

^ leahwilliamson — don't even go there.

lionesses — football’s coming home 🫶🏼

racheldaly — I’ll find a way

^ leahwilliamson — no you won't.

user1 — Leah fighting for Y/N’s spot at Arsenal more than Arsenal themselves LMAO

^ user2 — she really said North London Forever

lottewubbenmoy — Baby England 🫶🏼

alessiarusso99 — beautiful girls

*liked by yourusername, leahwilliamson

User3 — is this an Aston Villa denial confirmation?

^ user4 — I think shes just referencing the YouTube video or Her, Jordan, Mils, and Rach.

^ user5 — shes got all these offers, who knows

^ user3 — she practically confirmed she was going to North Carolina in that video tho

^ user4 — 🤷‍♀️ you could say that is is an Arsenal Confirmation since Leah’s in it. Fr tho idk.

Leahwilliamson — my 🌟 girl

^ user6 — their friendship is so cute

User7 — All these clubs want her, WHERE WILL SHE GO

^ yourusername — 👀

^ user7 — STOP DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

__________________________________

804 notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 1 year

Text

Star girl || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader ~ ‘Stardust’ couple

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Angst || Established Relationship || Non-idol au

Summary: Sometimes life just feels like too much, where the solace of the night no longer feels as healing as it once was. Luckily Jungkook is there when everything feels like too much.

Word Count: 4.9k

Tags/ warnings: fluff, mild angst, boyfriend kook is there to make everything feel better, smut in the forms of: fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, this is fiction), holding hands during sex :(, it’s all just very soft and healing, creampie, cum play, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), he eats his own cum, overstimulation

Notes: this is part of the ‘Stardust’ universe, however it can be read as a stand alone. idk how i feel about this one :’) if there are mistakes, look away <3

(request is posted at the bottom under the taglist~ the request wasn’t specifically for this universe, however it fit the au)

my masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

You’d always believed the night to be cathartic, something almost healing about simply living while people slept. Expectations washed away of an evening with a shower, dampened mood sated with soft sheets and far fetched dreams in far away lands much more perfect than your own.

Where the moon was your only friend, no words needed between the two of you, as you simply lived among the stars. The galaxy’s gentle caress lulling you into a blissful state of peace.

The street lamps bleed muted orange light into your room, curtains pushed open so you could watch the world, and wonder what it be like to explore the milky way.

It’s daunting how catharsis can mutate into something a little more wretched. How loneliness can creep up on you, how it lurks in the shadows during the day— following you with silent footsteps. How it slowly consumes a little more of you with each passing night.

How you don’t seem to notice the clouds that take over the sky, how the stars in your universe don’t seem to shine as bright as they once were.

It’s strange how when the lights turn off, and you’re curled up in bed, a sticky sadness consumes your entire being until you’re falling. Drowning in an endless darkness, scaly hands of solitude tugging you further into the abyss until bile rises up your throat and your eyes sting with unwanted tears; where you start to feel sorry for yourself and that icky feeling only seems to amplify.

It’s an awful feeling, that no matter how much you toss and turn, an overwhelming sadness plagues your mind until sleep seems to scuttle out your grasp, leaving you to rot in your own self-deprecating thoughts. A phantom hand locked around your throat, weeding its way into your heart, squeezing in a way that has you breathless.

A prisoner to your own mind. Until days bleed into one another— how that rotten sadness gnawing away at your mind— the sadness that had only ever caressed your cheek in the dark, had slipped between the cracks of your resolve. Bleeding into the crevices of every thought that consumed you.

If you weren’t absorbed with the mountain of assignments, your thoughts always seemed to wander in the direction of the unexplainable loneliness that hugged you, leeching of your emotions until you were left drained, utterly exhausted.

You think you’d lost count of how many days you’d kept yourself tucked in bed, a false sense of security easing a small portion of your mind as you simply exist under layers upon layers of blankets. Pretending anything that lives and works beyond your four walls doesn’t exist. Because if you didn’t acknowledge the wider world and your problems then they simply weren’t there.

Your laptop lays propped up at the end of your bed, and you think the battery died three days ago. You hadn’t bothered to plug it back in. Knowing that if you did, a long list of untouched assignments would greet you, and if you didn’t have to look at them then the deadline meant nothing. Prickly guilt eating away at your mind each time you remember an assignment that had passed, and a lecture you had missed.

You didn’t particularly enjoy skipping classes, knowing the workload would crush you when you finally got back into the groove of student life, but the very thought of getting up is enough for tears to slip down your cheeks.

With eyes shielded by the velvet blanket Jungkook had bought for your one year anniversary months ago, your gaze is veiled from your room that looked like it had seen better days.

You’d gotten to the point where cleaning seemed near impossible, with clothes strewn across the floor, with any other pieces of your room that had fallen victim to your slight rampage a couple of nights ago, finding a permanent home on your bedroom floor.

You had the decency to at least eat in the living room, and from what you can remember there’s probably a few too many boxes of food laying around, dishes probably piled high in the sink.

You don’t miss the jingle of keys outside your door, nor do you make any move to sit up when you hear your boyfriend milling through your apartment in search for you. You’d have felt an ounce of shame if Jungkook hadn’t seen what can happen when you get into a bit of a tizz, locking yourself away so you didn’t have to be a functioning member of society.

“Oh, pretty thing” Jungkook coos, bed dipping under his weight as he sits by your feet. Gentle not to startle you.

You pull the duvet down under your chin, “Kook?” you murmur, watching his lips tug up into a soft smile; a look of understanding washing over his features.

“Hey, baby. You doing okay?” a silly question on his part, but at least he knew you were alive.

You nod, albeit hesitant.

“Why are you here?” you murmur, eyebrows creasing.

“You haven’t answered any of my calls, I was worried” his hands finds their way to your thigh, touch ever so soft you feel the telltale signs of tears coating your eyes.

Your gaze flickers over to your phone, pulling your arm from under the cocoon of your blanket you tap on the screen, “It must have died, I didn’t notice. Sorry” you turn your attention back to your boyfriend.

“How about we get you washed, and then I’ll cook us something yummy?” he offers and you sink further into the pillows surrounding your head.

“I don’t really—” you sigh, “I’m okay”

“None of that, my darling” he soothes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before he’s pushing himself to stand.

You watch as he wanders into your bathroom, your eyes squinting at the blaring light that spills over your bedroom floor. The first sign of light in your room in almost a week.

You throw the blanket back over your head at the sound of running water. Jungkook’s voice echoing throughout your bathroom as he hums a song he’d probably been listening to on his way over to your place.

He’d always been a good singer, though he refused to ever show anyone other than you— a little secret the two of you had. And maybe it was selfish, how you’d get giddy each time he would sing for you, because you’d always been the only one to see him like this, hear him like this. A special something only the two of you had cupped in your hands, delicate like a butterfly’s wings but ever so beautiful.

“Come on” Jungkook tugs the blanket from your body, and goosebumps raise up the skin of your arms.

“Why are you shirtless?” you frown, fingers skimming the edge of your blanket, grasping at the material, ready to pull it back over your body. If it had been any other day then maybe you’d ogle at his toned chest a little longer.

“We’re taking a bath together. I put extra bubbles, just for you” he juts his head in the direction of your en suite.

You watch as he bends down, arms hooking around your body.

He throws you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, and you watch the muscles of his back flex in that delicious way that has your thighs clenching; heat simmering in your stomach that only he’d ever be able to sate.

The mirror had steamed up, a little relief washing over your body; aware you probably looked like absolute dog shit. You can’t remember the last time you even bothered to shower, let alone wash your face. Your nose scrunches up in distaste before Jungkook’s easing you back onto your feet.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head with practiced ease.

“Hands on my shoulders” he tells you as he bends down, fingers hooking around the waistband of the pyjama pants you were wearing.

You press your weight against your boyfriend as he helps you out of your panties, flinging them back through the door into your room before he’s discarding his own clothes.

He holds your hand as you step into the tub, toes tinging from the scalding water— heat smoldering up your body.

“You sure this isn’t too hot for you?” you smile over your shoulder, “You complain about how hot I have my showers”

Jungkook scoffs, a failed attempt at coving the smile that threatened to pull at his cheeks.

You sink into the water, feeling the bubbles tickle your bare skin. Muscles melting as you bask in the warmth, uncaring as Jungkook slips into the tub behind you.

Your boyfriend’s knees knock against your hips, a little bit of a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to care as you lean back into his chest.

“Feeling better?” he whispers, lips pressed against your shoulder, warm breath tickling bare skin.

You nod, eyes slowly falling shut. Sleepless nights finally catching up to you as you finally find the comfort you’d been craving for so long. The unsettling feeling of pure loneliness fading into a warm love that spreads over your chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with classes” Jungkook’s hands run down your arms, tips of his fingers exploring places he knew better than he knew his own body. Knowing where to touch you, where to avoid.

“It’s okay” you whisper.

He sighs, “It’s not. I shouldn’t put shitty assignments over you. I should have known something was wrong when you stopped reading my texts”

“I’m sorry about that” you peek over your shoulder, though Jungkook simply smiles. Nothing indicating any agitation towards your bad habit.

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s my job to always be by your side. I’m sorry i’m like, four days late. I’ve been swamped with classes I didn’t even realize you’ve been having a hard time”

“You don’t have to apologize.” you mirror his response, “Even before we were dating, you always did so much. I’m grateful, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to do all this”

“I do it because I love you, baby” he tilts your head up from your chin, gentle kiss pressed to your lips. And you sink further into his chest. Somehow wishing the two of you would simply melt into one being, forever intertwined.

“I love you more”

“Impossible” he snickers, “I love you more”

“For every star there is, in every galaxy, even the ones we don’t know about, each one is a piece of my love for you” you declare, unaware of Jungkook’s morphing expression.

An unfathomable, bubbly feeling of pure love consuming his entire being, bursting at his seams. A feeling so unfamiliar yet welcoming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“That’s a lot of love, my little star girl” he muses, hands running over your hips as his lips skim over your jaw. “I love you as much as you love the stars”

“That’s a lot of love, too” you hum, pushing yourself to turn around and face your boyfriend.

You smile at the flush of his cheeks, dusted rosy from the hot water. Ends of his air damp from the steam. Bubbles touching him in places you’ve kissed, worshipping his skin like you have as they trail over his stomach— inching down to more intimate places. Another part of him only you’ll ever see.

“You’re pretty” you tell him, watching his ears flush, red hue bleeding down to his chest.

“You’re prettier” he counters and you laugh.

“You’re impossible”

He tugs you closer between his legs, water sloshing around the two of you, “But you love me for it”

“I do” you admit, “And I wouldn’t change you for the world”

“Is that so?” he hums, your favourite smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “Now why don’t you tell me what you’ve been feeling while I wash your hair?”

“That sounds nice” you agree, hands cupping his cheeks, “Thank you, Jungkook. I really mean it”

“I know you do” he leans into your touch, hair falling over his eyes a little from where he’d been growing it out, “Thank you for being here” he takes ahold of your hand, gentle as he presses a kiss to the tips of your fingers.

✯ ✯ ✯

You sit on the edge of your bed, old sheets torn off, slung on the floor for the wash that Jungkook promised he’d do after helping de-tangle your hair.

He’s ever so gentle, and never once complains when your head tips forward too far, or you fidget, feet numb from the way you’d sat on them.

He’d helped you wash your face, having you sat on the counter as he brushed your teeth before chucking you in one of his old sweaters he’d left at your place. Folded neatly where he’d left it the last time he’d spent the night, other items of his clothing slung over your desk and the frame of your bed.

“I’ll wash up while you sort this room out, okay?” he smiles, tugging your curtains open.

You watch orange light flood into your room, eyes transfixed on the full moon as Jungkook plugs your lamp in beside your bed before he makes his way into the kitchen. You wonder how long it had been since you’d star gazed.

You wonder why the stars seem to shine that little bit brighter than they had the last time you’d looked at them. Something acutely similar to Jungkook’s eyes when they light up, passion evident in his gaze, maybe even love. You’d hope it was love, the stars in his eyes always that little bit brighter when he look at you.

Jungkook had always been your little laundry fairy, easily navigating your washing machine with ease, even before the two of you were dating. His new domestic passion being washing up. Something about his hands soaking in bubbly water and clean dishes bringing an extra sparkle to his eyes. Almost as sparkly as when the two of you locked gazes.

You didn’t particularly like washing the dishes, always finding your hands felt grossly dry afterwards where no amount of sweet smelling hand cream could redeem the damage done.

Your boyfriend has had a few too many conversations with you about what chores he’d take on if the two of you were to ever move in together. And you had been more than happy when he’d stepped forward for washing up and laundry duty.

Your gaze snaps towards the door when you hear the grating sound of a pot colliding with your tile flooring.

“You okay?” you call out, bending down to pick up the clothes blanketing your floor.

“I’m fine!” Jungkook shouts, “The handle was slippy”

✯ ✯ ✯

“Thank you” you whisper, tucking Jungkook’s hair behind his ear.

He smiles, “Stop thanking me.”

“I just feel really shitty that you have to do all of this stuff for me”

Jungkook’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer to his body until your nose nudges his chest. Your eyes slip closed, body hyper aware of your boyfriend’s fingers as they brush up across your back.

“I don’t have to do anything. I do it because I want t— hey, what’s wrong” he frowns, peeking down at you when he hears a sniffle.

Your hands come to cover your face, body shaking, chest jittery as a sob wracks throughout you.

“Nothing” you hiccup, “You’re just too good to me”

Jungkook laughs, nudging you onto your back before he’s pushing himself up— body caging your own. “You forget all the things you do for me too” his arms flex as he eases a kiss over your eyelids.

Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him down for a kiss. It’s salty, tightness in your chest chocking you as you tilt your head.

Jungkook’s tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent request for access. Your lips part, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“No more crying, my star” Jungkook whispers, lips moving against your own. He pulls back briefly, watching your eyes search his own. Watching as they glisten with unshed tears, his thumb gentle as he brushes it over your wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry” you swallow, hand coming to wipe your eyes, only Jungkook stops you, back of his fingers brushing the delicate skin under your eyes, always worried you pull at them too much when you get upset.

“No more apologies either, okay?”

You nod, lips parting in awe. Smile pulling onto Jungkook’s face, and you’re kissing him again.

Your fingers thread into his the back of his hair, tugging gently, an attempt to mould yourselves further into one another.

One of your hands trail down the front of his body, hand firmly pressing against his cock.

Jungkook pulls his face away from you, “We don’t have to do that, pretty. I didn’t come here to have sex” he pants, tongue laving over his bottom lip.

“I know” your voice breathy, “Still want you”

Your hand squeezes his cock over his sweatpants, twitch of interest dampening your panties as you feel him slowly harden.

“You sure?” he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Mhmm” you hum, impatient fingers pulling the sweater over your head, panties easily shucked off and thrown onto the floor, your boyfriend following you as he sits up, pulling his clothes off.

Jungkook’s thumb parts your slit, coated in a thick sheen of your arousal— and you moan as he brushes over your clit. Thumbing meanly over your little bud as he leans down for another kiss.

He drinks in your moans, lips swollen, glistening in a mixture of both your saliva as his tongue prods into your mouth— always having liked it a little wet and messy.

Your hips buck up, fingers clasping the sheets as a fingers teases over your entrance.

Your mouth falls open as Jungkook presses a finger into you, lips sucking the skin of your neck.

“Feels good” you whine, walls clamping around his finger as his thumb continues to brush over your clit.

“Yeah?” he croons, pulling his finger out before adding another. Curling them deliciously.

Your hands blindly trail down his body, nails accidentally dragging across Jungkook’s cock-head. He lurches forward, thumb pressed firmer against your clit and you cry out from the shock of pleasure that fizzles up your spine.

“Sorry” you pant.

“Fucking hell, tell me next time” he laughs, head falling between your tits as your hand wraps around his shaft.

“M’ close” you warn, thighs clamping around Jungkook’s hand, though that barely deters him, relentless as he scissors you open; wet squelch meeting your ears with every thrust into you.

You tip over the edge as he eases a third finger into you, “I’m cumming” your thighs shaking around his hand as he brings your slick up over your clit— messily elongating your orgasm with quick flicks of his wrist.

Your hand falls away from his cock, Jungkook’s nose scrunching up as it slaps wetly against your thigh. Bead of pearly pre-cum staining your skin.

Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him into another kiss as his fingers ease on your clit, dipping between your slit before he’s slicking his cock up with your cum.

“Think you’ll be okay?” he murmurs against your lips, running the tip of his cock over your cunt, your eyes squeezing shut as the tip nudges your clit.

Your hips jolt upwards, and Jungkook laughs. A hearty one that has you smiling up at him.

“I love you”

Jungkook presses another peck to your lips, “I love you”

Your fingers part your pussy lips, and Jungkook’s holds the base of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance.

“So pretty” he murmurs, entranced.

You squirm under his gaze, cheeks flushing red as Jungkook’s eyes meet your own.

His smile had always started with his eyes, worming its way towards his lips as he gently pushes into you— head of his cock splitting you open.

Jungkook’s fingers thread with your own, hips languid as he thrusts into you. Your eyes flit between his, watching as his eyebrows furrow in the building pleasure he’s feeling.

There’s nothing rushed in Jungkook’s movements, the mere act of the two of you connecting in such an intimate way fulfilling enough. The raw emotions swimming behind his eyes with each wet squelch of your sodden cunt that overshadows both of your shaky breathing, is enough to slowly bring you hurdling towards another high.

You squeeze his fingers, thighs wrapping around Jungkook’s waits as he leans down, wet, open mouth kisses pressed to your tits— gentle thrum of pleasure sparking down your body as his tongue laves over your nipple.

“I’m close, pretty. Cum with me” Jungkook grunts, eyes closing in utter bliss.

One of your hands slip out of his grasp, worming between your bodies until you brush over your clit.

“Good girl, play with yourself for me”

Jungkook rocks into you, hips stuttering as he nears his release, thighs clapping obscenely against your ass. Your fingers pick up their pace on your clit, staccato of moans tumbling past your lips— Jungkook’s deep groan harmonizing with you.

“Gonna cum” you hiccup, thighs tightening their hold they have on your boyfriend.

You feel his cock twitch, cry of pure pleasure muffled by his lips as Jungkook’s release paints your walls white. And that’s what pushes you over the edge, the world around you seems to muffle, crackling in your ears as you feel unadulterated pleasure course throughout your body in thick waves.

“Well done” Jungkook’s hips pull back a fraction before he’s pushing back into you, “Did so well for me” he croons.

Your chest stutters out a breath, hands mindlessly grasping onto any part of Jungkook you can hold on to. Warmth of his sweat slicked skin helping the buzz of your high melt. Bodies still one, the closest the two of you will ever physically be.

“You okay?” he whispers, lips pressed against your forehead and you nod; legs falling from around his waist.

“Thank you, Kook”

He snickers, “You don’t have to thank me for this, darling” he pushes the sweaty strands of hair from your forehead.

“Not for this” your nose scrunches up at him, “Just—“ you start, lip tucked under your teeth, “Just for everything”

“I love you”

Your muscles relax, giggle bubbling up your throat, “I love you more”

“We should have put a towel down, we just cleaned the sheets” he groans, falling on top of you.

You wheeze out a breath as his full weight settles over you; groaning as your walls clench around his cock that’s still nestled inside of you.

“I have a surprise for you” Jungkook’s lifts his head, and you crane your neck.

“Surprise?”

“Yeah, go pee and then I’ll show you” he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You thighs twitch at the slow drag of his softened cock as he slips out of you.

Jungkook’s fingers drag through your slit as his cum leaks out your hole, a whine pulled from the back of your throat as he fingers his cum back into you.

“How messy” he teases, and your cunt clenches around nothing as he smears his cum over your pussy, “Let me help clean you up”

Your boyfriend scoots down the bed, trail of kisses setting your skin alight as he makes himself comfortable between your legs.

He kisses over your clit, tongue flicking out, toying with the swollen little bud before he’s wrapping his lips around it. He continues to push his cum back into your sodden cunt, walls pulling him in until he’s knuckle deep inside of you.

You whine as he crooks his fingers upwards, stomach tensing as he slowly drags them out of you, mouth leaving sloppy kisses over your entrance, tongue teasing as he circles your hole.

You moan at the lewd noises your cunt makes, burning hot pleasure shooting straight to your throbbing clit as Jungkook’s fingers draw tight circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Cum on my tongue” Jungkook pulls away briefly, only to shove his face further into your cunt, scooping out his own cum and letting it coat his tongue.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, shuddering as his nose nudges against your clit, “I’m cumming” you whine, hips bucking into Jungkook’s face. Using him to get yourself off.

Jungkook hums, vibrations thrusting you head first into another orgasm, body still thrumming with the aftershocks of your previous high.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, tongue licking a bold stripe up your pussy, lips wrapping themselves your clit again— teeth gently scraping over the sensitive skin.

You sob, thighs clamping around his head. Another gush of slick leaks out your cunt and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to finally pull away.

You moan into the kiss as he holds himself up over you, mixture of your releases coating your lips. Jungkook’s chin shiny with your thick arousal. “Always so good for me”

✯ ✯ ✯

“Careful there’s another step” Jungkook warns, arms wrapping around you waist, helping you up the final step.

Your hands remain over your eyes, blindly trusting that Jungkook wouldn’t let you hurt yourself. A sentiment that doesn’t fly over his head, something he definitely thinks about way more than most boyfriends would— but he simply can’t help himself when it comes to you. Everything you’ve ever done is effortlessly perfect to him, and the fact you trusted him like this is enough to have him pressing kisses in all your favorite places.

“What are we doing?” you dare ask, knowing he wouldn’t give you a hint. He’d be adamant on keeping it a secret as the two of you showered and he helped you change.

Goosebumps prickle the skin of your arms when a door swings open. Breeze pushing your hair out of your face as Jungkook pulls you outside. First gust of fresh air causing the hair on the back of your neck to raise.

You’d always believed the night to be cathartic, something almost healing about simply living while people slept. The air always a little fresher, freedom easier to grasp. The world at ease when night fell, where the sky felt closer to the ground; endless possibilities sat at your feet like you finally had control over your life.

“Open your eyes” Jungkook gently pulls your hands away from your eyes.

You look around, “We’re on the roof?” you turn back to Jungkook, eyes furrowing in confusion.

“Look up” he points to the sky.

Your head tips back, mouth opening in awe at how clear the skies were— a million little stars winking at the two of you. Flickering like little fireflies, and you can’t help but smile as you spot a shooting star. Silent wish on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook seems to have the same idea as his eyes flutter closed.

Jungkook pulls the blanket off his shoulder after making his wish, spreading it out on the floor. One the two of you had used countless times for picnic dates in the park.

“I thought we could stargaze. There aren’t any clouds tonight” he pats the blanket. Silent invitation for you to join him.

You wonder if it were possible to fall in love with someone all over again. Whatever love you felt for them amplifying until all you can feel in an inexplainable love for someone else.

Love is never linear. Never constant. It influxes, where maybe the lines of yours and Jungkook’s love cross paths every now and again when the two of you spend time alone like this. Everything seeming ever so easy when all that existed in your worlds were one another— orbiting until every other planet in the solar system is out of reach, where you’ll always stay together even as the universe crumbles around you.

Loving Jungkook has always been so easy. And truly you believe that for as long as there are stars in the sky, your love will forever be with him. Trusting that he’ll delicately hold your heart as you hold his, because there’s no one else in the entire universe you’d rather have by your side than your best friend.

“I really love you” you blurt, as the both of you lay side by side, “I love you doesn’t feel like enough to explain it”

“I feel like that a lot. It’s a weird feeling” he hums thoughtfully, and you nod your agreement.

“I like it” you murmur, fingers finding Jungkook’s, pinkies intertwined, “It’s a good feeling”

“I like it too” Jungkook turns his head to look at you, endeared smile on his face when you meet his eyes, “My star girl”

You smile at that, tilting your head, featherlight kiss pressed against Jungkook’s lips. Where he chases after you for another, and then another.

“There’s a meteor shower in a few weeks, we should go camping and watch it” Jungkook tells you mindlessly, a thought he’d been meaning to bring up days ago but had been lost somewhere in the dark corners of his mind.

“I’d like that” you nod, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“I’d like that too” his nose scrunches up, and you kiss it; laughter bubbling up Jungkook’s chest, contagious as you start to giggle too.

Meeting Jeon Jungkook had been the luckiest part of your life, and maybe he was your special star. The one you always find whenever you turn towards the sky, no matter where you are, always watching over you.

To Jungkook, he’s more than certain you’re his. You’d always be the prettiest star in his universe, and he’ll continue to follow you until you fizzle out into stardust.

🪐 thank you so much for reading, feedback is always appreciated

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request:

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook jeon #bts x reader #bts #jungkook

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waywardsummoner46 · 1 year

Text

Our Beautiful Girl

Pairing: Yandere!BAU x Reader, Yandere!Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: “Do you understand, (Y/N)? You need only understand and you won’t ever have to think again! Wouldn’t that be nice? A life without ever needing to worry about a thing? No responsibilities, no problems, nothing to trouble you ever again.”

Years of successful cases struck you as suspicious... so you began researching. You never thought your research would come to this. You never thought your life would come to this. If you managed to survive this... who would believe you?

Word Count: 2538

Warnings: obsessive behaaviour, coercion, slight infantilism, drugging, non-consensual kisses, non-consensual touching, manipulation, the BAU and their ideology in this is fucked up

IMPORTANT A/N: My mind is fucked up. Oh well. This isn’t my darkest fic but be warned it’s a bit disturbing. I will be more than willing to do a drabble series for this if people are interested or even more parts. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think!

DIvider by @firefly-graphics

Everyone had heard of the legendary BAU team. They were an extremely popular department of the FBI, being called consistently to multiple parts of America and the rest of the world on occasion. They never got a break and consequently never stopped helping people.

Every case they had they “found the bad guy” or “arrested the unsub” and all they ever got was praise and blind acceptance.

Surely you couldn’t have been the only one to think that their endless streak of success wasn’t perfectly innocent. Despite only being an agent in training at the time their popularity peaked, you shared your opinions only with your closest friends and that’s where they stayed.

As soon as you’d left high school, you knew that being a profiler for the FBI was exactly what you wanted to do, hearing of the legendary stories of how the BAU had yet again caught a psychotic serial killer or rapist or whatever the fuck humanity had spewed up. It was intriguing to say the least.

You’d seen pictures of the team in pictures and read about them individually in interviews. They acted as your inspiration for the job during your early years; whenever you found something to be extensively difficult you merely reminded yourself that struggle is only a step closer to becoming as amazing as them. This became a regular technique for you, often thinking and dreaming about when you’d finally qualify and be able to explore the world and help people in your own unique way alongside the current greats of the BAU.

The friends you’d made shared your opinions and ultimately boosted that attitude, mirroring it actually.

Everything was going great! Until it wasn’t…

The first seed of doubt was planted in your head when you decided to do a little personal research. You looked through the archives of past cases (even though you weren’t supposed to and miraculously had access to it) and counted how many they’d solved in total. After an hour of counting and three hundred successful cases in a row, your restless hands finally slumped against the many case files piled around you on the floor and you regarded them with a raised brow and slightly pursed lips.

Surely there must’ve been at least one case they’d failed? Or at the very least, not caught the bad guy or charged the wrong guy?

Apparently not if the information from the daunting files in front of you had anything to do with it.

The logical thing to do was to accept it and resume your life as it had been and continue to aspire to be like this clearly flawless team yet there was something nagging you in the back of your mind just to delve a little deeper. Search a little more.

…no one’s gonna notice three hundred files missing right? No, surely not. Alright they would but ten or twenty at a time wouldn’t hurt and they were just begging to have some action.

So that day you neatly reorganised the files and put them back where they belonged but remembering to come back for a few at the end of the day.

After a long day of training, it finally got to home time and as you waved your friend goodbye, under the pretence that you desperately had to go to the toilet, you made your way back to the archives only to stop short at the neat pile resting on top of one of the cabinets. Did you forget to put the ones you were going tonight to take away? Surely you didn’t.

Then again you were tired and a bit forgetful the past few days so the situation was more plausible than not. Deciding to reluctantly shrug it off, you reached for the files after looking around to see nobody was watching you and stuffing them into your satchel bag, crammed alongside all of your other things.

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you left the room and made your way quickly out of the building, walking quickly, quickly, quickly-

Into someone else’s body. You glanced up with an apology on your tongue only to stop short at the sight of Doctor Reid. Instead of the smooth apology flying out of your mouth, you stood their gaping like a fish struggling to form a sentence.

He brushed off his shirt and straightened his tie before looking up at you, eyes widening slightly when they met yours.

“I am so sorry, Doctor Reid! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and didn’t see you! I am so, so sorry, I-“ you rambled and we’re cut off by him raising a kind hand to dismiss you.

“Actually the collision was both of our faults. Statistics show we’re more likely to bump into another person or thing when feeling rushed or anxious than when not.” He said it with such fluidity and confidence that you had to close your eyes and swallow to compose yourself. “On the bright side, at least neither one of us are hurt.”

You looked back up at him and smiled shyly under his easygoing gaze. Out of habit, your hands came up to the strap of your satchel and began fidgeting with it, “I’m sorry again, Doctor. Are you alright?”

“I’m alright, thank you. Are you alright, Miss (Y/L/N)?” He knew your name?

You nodded in confirmation, missing how he glanced at your bag, noticing the bulge and allowing his lips to quirk momentarily, as you silently pondered over how he knew your name.

When your eyes met again you realised that you’d been standing there in silence for a while. “Unfortunately I should really leave now. It was nice speaking to you and again, I’m sorry for bumping into you,” you stated as you began turning to the exit.

“It’s no problem, we actually evaded the high chance of one of us getting hurt during the collision so I’d say that it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Take care, Miss (Y/L\N),” he said and waved goodbye, leaving out a separate door.

You walked over to your car, opened it and plopped down onto the seat, sighing heavily and looking uneasily at the bag on the passenger seat, wondering what exactly you were about to do. Was it really a good idea? You’d just met Doctor Reid formally for the first time and he seemed like a genuinely good person, your developing profiling skills contributing to your evaluations, so you felt mildly guilty second guessing his and his team’s sense of justice.

Biting your lip, you sat in silence for a good minute plotting the pros and cons of your idea.

No one would know you’d taken them, surely. No one has any need for them, they’re old files for god's sake!

Well, no one has any need for them, bar you of course.

With a determined nod, you put your keys in the ignition and drove home, knowing you had a long night of reading ahead of you.

It had been two weeks since you’d taken those files home. And it was nearly the end of endless files you’d found in the archives, considering how you’ve had no luck since beginning then you were starting to think that this entire escapade had been a mistake.

Tireless efforts lasting overnight were slowly catching up on you, you were overwhelmed by the graphic images taken and the details in some of the cases were downright horrific. Child pornography, rape, homicide, torture… there was nothing not on that list. The amount of bile and vomit that had been flushed down your toilet was insane. You’d concluded that maybe you’re more cut out for the action aspect of the job and not the analysis of dead, mutilated bodies.

Despite that your mind couldn’t help but dwell on your encounter with Doctor Reid. He’d been extremely charming and you’d been itching to just speak to him again. You had no idea why but there was something about him that was just so interesting to you - something that needed a little prodding.

Wrenching yourself out of your thoughts, you once again tried and failed to focus on the piece of work in front of you. It was an exercise to teach and prepare you to conclude a case therefore summarising and going into detail about every aspect. Without the thrill of an actual case you found this activity to be a complete drag and elected to ignore the work until an hour before the deadline which was next week if memory serves correct. Which gave you enough time to finish the last ten files in your satchel.

You’d decided to stay at the BAU late that night, coming to the conclusion that the work place would increase your productivity and reduce your exhaustion. Apart from the odd agent, there was nothing that distracted you from your work.

Each and every picture from each and every file seemed to be ingrained into your memory; the horrors not something you’d forget so easily. It made you wonder though, how exactly did the current BAU seem so… at ease with everything they’ve seen?

Of course, they’re not not unscarred but there always seems to be some undertone of something whenever they discuss previous cases. After all, that very undertone was what encouraged you to be breaking practically every rule of your training because something was just not right.

About an hour had passed and you were finally on the last case file. Nothing struck you immediately (apart from a disheartening disappointment), all sections and pictures just as bad as the others. Nothing was out of the ordinary… except just one thing.

Anyone who wasn’t studying it as vigorously as you would’ve missed it. There was a… note, of some sort, at the end of the medical examination section.

Do you understand now, (Y/N)?

“Oh, (Y/N)! I didn’t expect to see you here. Is everything okay? You look a bit… sick,” the voice of Spencer Reid made you jump from your shaken stupor. Seeing your wide, teary eyes must’ve been concerning for him. He immediately rushed over to you and began soothing you, stroking the tears from your cheeks.

“Hey now, what’s gotten you so upset?”

You couldn’t do anything between your tears and quivering lips so you only pointed to the case notes, not caring at all what you’d be admitting to. His lips pursed as he looked at it.

An eyebrow raised, he said, “Yes, this does seem quite concerning. I do have one question though…” Even through your terror, you recognised that this was where all of your years of hard work would come to an end; you pushed through your crippling fear and pleaded for forgiveness one last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to! I just couldn’t help myself. I’m so-”

“No, no, no. Breathe with me, (Y/N), you’re alright. It’s not that, it’s not.” Oh, that was a relief. What was it then? “It’s simple enough, so I’ll cut to the chase: do you? Understand, that is. It’s very important to us.”

What?

Slowly, you moved away from his hands and reached a trembling hand to the gun in your pocket. “What did you just say?”

A tight smile spread across his face at your actions. He huffed a sigh, “You can be so silly sometimes, (Y/N). My question was easy! I phrased it as comprehensively as I could! Just for you! Always, for you!”

An obsessive, manic look took over his face, his entire body language. This was not the famous Doctor Spencer Reid. He looked too insane for that.

“Doctor, I don’t understand what you’re saying…`’ Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say as he went from looking loopy to completely livid and then to a twisted sort of affectionate. Him settling on that sent shivers through you.

He took a step forward and you took one back, another step forward, another step back. You carried on like this until your back regrettably hit a wall - you were trapped. Drawing your gun, you warned him. “G-get back! Don’t come any closer, I will shoot!”

Obediently, he paused and smiled warmly at you. “I suppose it was our fault. The likelihood of you understanding our motives was seventeen percent at best but we were hopeful. Admittedly, it was a risky gamble and what must happen now was entirely avoidable but oh well!” He was still unbearably charming even when he scared the living daylight out of you.

Neither of you said anything for a while; him clearly enjoying watching you and you debating on whether or not to shoot him. The silence was unnerving to an extreme you were unfamiliar with.

A lump in your throat had appeared and your grip on the gun was flimsy at best - you couldn’t help but feel that, despite how you were aiming a gun at him, he was the one with the power in the situation… if only you could figure out why.

“I can see your clever little brain working from over here. As adorable as it is, you need only understand and you won’t ever have to think again! Wouldn’t that be nice? A life without ever needing to worry about a thing? No responsibilities, no problems, nothing to trouble you ever again,” he was crazy, positively psychotic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t understand, Doctor Reid! What are you saying?” Emotional exhaustion nearly overwhelmed you but you remained strong. All of your research and now his behaviour was making you even more aware that something was out of place but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what.

Too quick for you to realise, he’d strode towards you, grabbed your gun and forced your back to his chest - a hand calmly stroking your hair and one discarding the gun to the floor. You were screaming and sobbing like a feral beast and, answering your prayers, somebody heard you.

Multiple somebodies as it seemed, the rest of Spencer’s team. Through your overwhelming distress, you didn’t notice the equally twisted fondness they looked at you with, only focusing on how other people were here to help. Reid’s next words made you realise the extent of the danger you were in:

“We know, baby. That’s why we’re all here to help you!”

We, he’d said.

All of the BAU were just as crazy as the others. Everything you’d ever suspected, ever hypothesised was true. This only reinforced it.

You felt a sharp prick on the side of your neck. Realising Spencer had injected you with some sort of sedative, you instantly began to struggle. His soothing words did anything but as you descended into an increasingly drowsy sense of panic. And as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness, you felt him place a kiss to your forehead, each of your eyelids and one lasting one to your lips

“When you wake up, you’ll finally be home… and you won’t have to worry about anything ever again. Our beautiful little girl.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #yandere!spencer reid #yandere!spencer reid x reader #dark!spencer reid #bau x reader #yandere!bau x reader #dark!bau #dark!bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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pikapikablog · 2 months

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(I just took someone's passion and it fueled me to this/j Anyways)

Wakfu x Cat Member Reader;

-Cat reader joins the gang and everything, Reader is a cat so no romance, Reader is a brown and white tuxedo cat with a mystery collar with a moon and sun pendent on it-

Angst

Honestly I believe Yugo originally brought you into the group randomly and you just decided to stay and no one had really mind it much making you an official member of the group.

You liked Adamai the most out of everyone at first and then when the fight happens and the group splits you were taken in with Dally and his wife Eva cue endless chaos and you becoming an unpaid baby sitter for their brats and all, practically the oldest since you were technically adopted first

You mostly nap around and don't go out much when the break in happened you tried to quickly get the kids to safety unfortunately you underestimated the enemy and your favorite of the group was a traitor it broke your heart too before they could go and kidnap their daughter Elely you quickly jumped in making a shield to protect the two of them

It broke when Adamai hit it and it flung all of you back as they took Eva and Flopin, you weren't all that injured but you did have the fall and was limping a bit coming to check in on them seeing Dally dead (technically) it was even more heart breaking and you had curled around them trying to keep them warm

After the group reunites to fight Oppro and everything you begin to find out and the devastating truth and everything but you didn't want to bring in more helping them each turn the best you can while breathing a bit heavier not that anyone noticed or anything but Ruel's pet which you shooed away for it coming too close to you at times.

It was daunting watching everyone falling apart and tension rising it became more harder not to cave in but you passed it all finally able to help aid in battle against Oppro using what little strength you had left to witness Eva and Dally last child be formally welcomed unfortunately you couldn't hold on much longer after the said war and a soft Boop to the children's head you unfortunately passed on leaving your memories and your collar behind

Yugo;

He was so guilty crying over your limp body blaming himself silently his hands clenching your fur but you weren't reacting at all it set dawn on him that you were gone and not coming back it made him deny it all this wasn't happening you'd be back and happy, you will wake up soon.

But you never did

Amelia;

She covers her mouth in horror looking over at you it was eating her up inside slowly as you laid there knowing you'd never wake up to annoy her like how you used to always do something silly along the way

How she wishes for those times again

Dally;

Losing a friend after having his son was heartbreaking just like how you were there for them and their two first you won't be there for his last one he could only chuckled sadly brushing your fur

"I hope you do well wherever your soul decides to travel, we'll miss you for sure."

Eva;

You were a companion she sought comfort and guidance many times and maybe you were that little therapist she had you were like that for her children too and she loved that, she missed you, she wished you were here now, she missed how you'd jump up on high places near her and just watch curiously as she does her thing before her children made some ruckus prompting you to go and see what's it's about

She wishes this was all a bad dream.

Adamai;

Guilt and regret came in full fold his only interaction was hitting you away when you tried to protect Elely and Dally meaning his last moments were not on good notes with you or anything he could only silently look down at you and wish you'd have a safe journey

He wished he could have said how sorry he was

Ruel;

Honestly it was a slight connection, who am I kidding you two were treasure buddies you always brought back stray karmas to him being proud when he took it and praised how you were his luck charm in becoming rich, he felt moments like that were to short, he wipes a tear from his eye

"Be safe on the road there, hope you won't miss me too much"

Elely;

You were her best friend and big sister always hitting her when she did something wrong or maybe glaring at her when she unintentionally threw a Snowball at you when you were all nice and cozy ending up with you chasing her and you both laying by the fireplace after she got the cold from her adventure

She promised she was going to be strong one day and she'll keep that promise

Flopin;

He no longer felt the same reading books without you looking over his shoulder or maybe laying close as he pets you and you purr softly, he knew that many times you'd just listen as he rants on about new things and inventions and you'd meow as if answering him back

He just wished he could talk to you again

Goultard;

Even though you both maybe didn't have much interaction he saw that you were a good warrior you earned the respect from him for you, he wished he had more interactions with you

You seemed really cool

Rublix;

Maybe in a way he'd say he *supposedly* missed you but only he knows that he felt that he was missing something when your sudden departure took place he'd only him softly

"I always knew you were a fleabag with a fancy collar, damn cat."

#its pika time #Wakfu #Wakfu x Reader #Cat Reader #Angst #Death

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favoniuscodex · 1 year

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MYTHOS : LETHE, PART TWO . [ tartaglia, alhaitham, cyno ]

series : mythos, a mythology au - [ info & series masterlist ] series description : you are fated to save the world by assembling a team of the supposedly dead gods of ancient teyvat to stop the apocalypse. great. sounds easy enough, right? [ previous chapter ] - current: prologue pt. 2 - [ next chapter ] pairings: tartaglia x gn!reader, alhaitham x gn!reader, cyno x gn!reader word count: ~5.1k [ ~1.4k / ~1.9k / ~1.7k ] warnings : dream sequences / surrealism . drowning/thalassophobia . brief instances of claustrophobia . minor violence . mentions of death . author note : it's been a while, hasn't it? please read the first part if you haven't! the three parts within this section are all dream sequences, so they're a bit weird, but don't worry, no real trouble happens. if you need anything else tagged in warnings, please lmk! thanks for reading, this series is my baby <3 parts of the prologue won't make sense but it's intended to be that way because it's dream sequences filled with foreshadowing

SECTION INTRO ::

the transition to life in liyue harbor is one of ease. it seems as though everything is falling into place, slowly but surely. the city is still daunting, yes, but you know that it is yours for the taking. nights are spent alone, scheming on when you'll find your next piece of furniture and eating takeout out of flimsy cartons.

work is secure. stability is not necessarily guaranteed, but you believe your boss is fond of you enough to keep you on payroll for another few months. your boss has been a tough read since your first day, but you've managed not to step on any toes and, despite your increasingly strange sleeping patterns, you have arrived on time each day.

thus, each evening, when your eyes groan with fatigue from the screens you use to occupy your free time, you finally succumb to the inevitable. the thought of sleep is rather daunting, but you aren't quite sure why. the sense of danger is quickly buried by the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, as if your next adventure awaits you once you finally retire from this own world for the evening.

you cannot remember your dreams, but perhaps that's what makes them all the more alluring.

IV. GOD OF THE OCEANS - tartaglia

the crashing roar of an ocean wave serves as your alarm. it startles you into consciousness. with little time to react, your body is submerged in water. you instinctively gasp for air just before going under, but it isn't enough, especially as the vicious currents toss you around and pull you further into the murky depths.

you do not know where the shoreline went. after what feels like eons of tumbling through the water, you are unsure if there was ever earth to stand upon. you hold your breath until your lungs scream for air, but there is water up your nose already and very little reason to believe you could ever reach the surface.

when the currents finally release you, you can see nothing but endless blue. knowing that you will die is not the worst part. it is the knowledge that this is your burden to carry alone, for there are no witnesses to your plight. hysterically, you laugh, watching hopelessly as the bubbles of air escape your lips and float upwards, all while you sink in the opposite direction.

before you can close your eyes and embrace the wretched end that awaits you, you feel a tentacle enclose itself around your waist, and suddenly you're being pulled down, down, down into the depths below. your eyes provide you no understanding of the situation, for the monster holding you is too fast, plunging the two of you into the parts of the ocean where no light can reach.

you will not die alone. you'll die as the last meal of this unknown creature. perhaps it is a kind one, who may offer you a swift and merciless death. what does it matter anyways? you think, unable to find it in yourself to struggle as the creature hoists you towards the bottom of the ocean. i was always going to die.

"giving up already? that's not like you."

you are unsure where the words have come from, words familiarly unfamiliar like a distant childhood melody. you are unsure how you have not run out of air. you are unsure where you are going as you torpedo towards the bottom of the ocean. the only certainty in your mind is that death is no longer an option, but even you are unsure of the origin of such an assumption.

the creature holding you reaches the bottom of the ocean. the ground is not earth; it is glass. you realize this as you are unceremoniously slammed against the barrier between ocean and below, feeling it crack under your impact. despite this, no pain shoots throughout your body. an eerie wave of familiarity washes over you, far more soothing than the wave that swept you out into this sea earlier. now calm, you stop writhing in your captor's grasp as you thump into the glass once again.

this time, it shatters.

you and all of the ocean are sent surging into the void of air below. you fall facing upwards, and in the light that shines up from beneath you, you watch as the water suddenly retreats, leaving you to be the only object falling through the air. you greedily gulp in air despite knowing that you will likely face your demise once you hit the ground.

"hold still."

the voice is clearer once again, no longer warped by the waters above. your vision turns the color of seafoam before two arms catch you, breaking your fall with an inhuman ease. you stare up at your savior with wide eyes and parted lips. you focus on his eyes, which match the endless blue that spoke of death for you just moments ago.

"don't look at me like that, i've told you not to arrive up there, but you do anyways," he gently chides. "do you know who i am, princess?"

the corners of his lips peel back in a sharpened grin. you lift a hand up anyways, unafraid of the knife of his inhuman smile as your palm cups around his cheek. the edges of his teeth soften at your actions, snake-like pupils rounding into the familiar circle shape of humanity.

"you're..." you begin, tearing your eyes from his face to inspect the rest of him. you watch his adam's apple bob as he gulps in anticipation, bated breath held. "you are the creature from ocean. the one that saved me."

at your words, your savior's grin drops, and a nearly inaudible sigh of defeat escaping his lips. his teeth sharpen once more, yet you feel no fear. rather, you worry that he'll bite his tongue when he speaks. surely, such an action would hurt with such piercing teeth.

"that's not quite the answer i was looking for," he says, and uncharacteristically strong indignation rises within you, as if you've had this conversation with him thousands of times before. you let muscle memory take over, controlling your tongue to speak with fierce words.

"oh? would you prefer if i call you ■■■■?" you ask, allowing his name to roll off your tongue. your words are a pebble tossed into a still lake, causing emotions ripple across the face of your savior. his intimidating expression gives way to trepidation, and he looks up at the water barrier above the two of you, as if expecting it to suddenly break and ruin your refuge of air.

"you cannot say such things."

all mirth has left his voice as he speaks lowly. light has left his oceanic eyes, reminding you just how far below the depths you are with this strange man holding your life in his hands.

"you are not supposed to know that," he reprimands you. you cannot remember the name that you called him, no matter how hard you try as his gaze pierces you. "and if you do know it, pretend that you don't. if the heavens hear you say that, they'll undo your existence, and even if i drain the oceans, i will be unable to stop them."

"tartaglia." you say. the barrier above you seems to be approaching, walls closing in on the two of you. it is not the name you said earlier, but it is the only name you can bring forth in your mind. he stares at you, expression unreadable.

"tartaglia, where are we?" panicked, you grasp at the flowing gray fabric of his robes. they look as though they are carefreely floating in water, gently sinking down and down despite the two of you being suspended in air. you have not yet reached the bottom of the other side. its as if the two of you are still in the water above, and yet-

"almost home," he says. the statement would normally bring you comfort, but this time, it only leads to your hands frantically scrabbling around his chest, before you hastily fling your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

"i- i can feel them," you begin to babble mindlessly, eyes blown wide as you look up at his expression. tartaglia's face begins to contort, smeared in your vision like watercolor pigments haphazardly tossed in a cup of water. despite it all, you can see the worry in his eyes, no matter how unclear they might be. it is a horrid feeling, knowing that he can see your mind slipping out from underneath you.

"wake up," he says, calmly, but there's a faint waver in his voice. "it's okay to wake up. we can see each other some other time."

"i can't," you sob, voice finally cracking as the ceiling of glass above the two of you begins to split. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said what i did, i'm sorry."

you feel a hand smooth over your hair, but the soothing attempt proves futile as you feel a drop of water on your forehead.

"it's okay, sweetheart." tartaglia promises, but you can no longer see his lips move. you wonder what expression he wears now.

"everything will be alright," tartaglia has never been one to break a promise, but, for the first time, you doubt the truth of his words. "i promise."

you part your lips to speak, but the glass ceiling above the two of you gives out, thrusting you into darkened waters once more, away from the mysterious savior whose touch felt as familiar as a lover's.

V. GOD OF KNOWLEDGE - alhaitham

you tumble through water until you are washed ashore, tired body sliding gently onto warm white sands. sand grains refuse to cling to your body, even as you push yourself upright and look around. there's a fading sense of loss in your heart, as if you were torn apart from someone you love dearly, but you can't remember their face or their name. perhaps none of it was true and the only truth is found in the overwhelming sense of fear that still clutches at your heart.

perhaps the only truth is this empty beach you now sit on. the land of dreams that you are stuck in fails to generate any seashells or other signs of life. there's an expanse of green that begins where the sands end, but even it lacks detail, as if purposefully designed for you to remain uninterested in it. rather, the waters that you were once so fearful of allure you, since you know there will be no crabs within it to pinch at your toes, and no floating seaweed to imitate a fish slithering by. perhaps it would appear once you thought of it, and the sea creatures are now greedily pinching their claws at the thought of being able to pull you into the depths once more.

the thought of such creatures sends you stumbling away from the tide, feet struggling to navigate the overly soft sands. when you finally reach the grass, you no longer feel tired, and when you turn around, the beach is gone, replaced by a sprawling expanse of even more grass. but this new area is different from the dull one you currently stand in. perhaps, if your eyes do not deceive you, there is a building of glass that is visible only if you squint, prismatic rainbows faintly shimmering while promising a palace of erudition to those who know enough to pass its entrance exam of invisibility.

to others, the entrance may prove to be a difficult find, but you simply know. its a phenomenon you would not be able to explain if prompted, but you know the way to enter the invisible residence. it beckons you as you walk towards it. the overwhelming dread is not enough to hold you back as your hand wraps around the crystalline door handle, a vast pillar of nothingness, and you tug.

the door opens with a heavy groan, as if unused in millennia, and you hurry in. the door slams closed behind you, sealing shut and preventing your unauthorized departure. now inside the invisible structure, you can see the ornate halls that sprawl out endlessly in front of you in woodsy tones. faint accents of green adorn tan, beige, and wooden structures, while wooden flooring is gently coated with the finest of rugs.

instinctively, you take off your shoes. you'd feel awful if you tracked sand into such a beautiful residence. at least your clothes are no longer wet. the crystalline blue outside has long since left your mind, thus leaving your clothes as well. your socked feet pad against the luxurious floors. despite the intricately carved nature of the building you stand in, there is little physical decoration outside of the base appearance of the walls, floors, and windows, but it takes your breath away nonetheless. you know each and every brick and every stone pillar within the vicinity was crafted by hand, even if the hands that created the domain are ones that only reside in your own mind.

you turn to the left. it is where the scent of incense is strongest, and you follow it down the hall, twisting and turning until you reach a set of doors once more. unlike before, however, these doors are wholly visible, crafted of darkened karmaphala wood, with gilded handles that extend the entire length of the door. your hand reaches out to push open the doors, but they begin to open before your hand can make contact with the door.

"this is not a library, so be sure to put everything back exactly where you found it," a voice commands as you enter. you are unsure where it came from, but you care little for finding it as your breath is taken away by the room in front of you.

shaped like a sphere, the room of knowledge before you has bookshelves that cascade up the walls, defying gravity as they curve up and over, still able to hold their books securely despite facing the ground above. golden light filters in through arched windows, impossibly glowing throughout the entire circumference of the room. you wonder if this room has been miraculously thrust into the heavens, but such a thought only reminds you of words you should not have spoken and the dread returns once more.

"you look nervous," the voice asks from just over your shoulder and you jump in place. "normally i don't concern myself with such things, but it is not often that you visit."

your lips part instinctively to apologize, but all words die on your lips as you turn to look at the god beside you. multicolor irises stare at you, piercing right through you as if he can read your thoughts and panic rises within you. his eyes are all-seeing, all-knowing, but his brow furrows in confusion at your shellshocked expression.

"you do not remember me." his words are matter-of-fact. you know that the man before you only ever speaks the truth, but he is wrong. you remember him. you remember him as a puppet of the heavens, as a stone carving of that with which is burdened with divine knowledge. you remember him dying as his mind fractured in two, for even the inorganic cannot comprehend that which was not meant to be witnessed. you remember him as a king driven to madness, whose kingdom and rule have been forgotten by generations. you remember him as...

"alhaitham. scribe of the heavens," he greets you. "you know enough to find my residence, but not enough to acknowledge my place in your memories. how intriguing. perhaps there are things that i have yet to fully understand, but the likely answer for such a phenomenon could simply just be the natural decay of the human lifeform."

you stare at him, blinking once, then twice. your lips part before closing once more, and the scribe looks rather dismayed by your actions. you aren't sure why he almost seems to have anticipated your arrival. it causes dread to rise within you. forbidden words rest within your mouth, turning your tongue into heavy lead, and you find yourself unable to form the words of which you desire. any interest alhaitham might have had in you dies in the presence of your silence as he only sighs.

"all knowledge that humanity could dream of is found on these shelves, so please hesitate before looking for me if you need help. i can assure you that finding the answer yourself is much more rewarding."

there's a dryness to his words that makes you doubt what he's saying, as if he is moments away from a checkmate despite you never having agreed to this game of chess.

"you know what i know," you say, despite the way your mind screams at you to stop speaking.

"i know all that you have said and all that you will say," the god confirms. "i know you like the back of my hand. at this point, it is all simple calculations to know which words will and won't fall from your lips."

"so you know what i should not know," you say slowly. "are you here to reprimand me for it? is that why you summoned me here?"

you memorize the faint sliver of a knowing smirk that appears on his face as he turns away from you.

"i do not enjoy the presence of others. i typically prefer the company of a book. that should be a great enough indicator that i was not the one who summoned you here."

perplexation surges up within you. perhaps at one point you would have understood his words, but in the muddled fogginess of your dreams, you lack the full context to understand what he truly means with his words. your scholarly nature is failing you. this is an exam that you were never told you had to study for, but you manage to muster a haphazard conclusion anyways.

"you're saying i brought myself here?"

"each time you come here, you forget the time we have spent together. you forget your pursuit of understanding why you show up here, but you seek out the answer to your forgotten questions nonetheless," alhaitham says. he walks over to the infinite bookshelves and plucks a book unceremoniously off the shelf. it is purple, with blinding golden binding and trim. the decals on the cover shift in front of you, cycling through a series of glyphs and letters of languages you have never before witnessed.

"you seek your answers in these books that i have written," alhaitham says, and there is a fond wistfulness in his voice, faint enough that you wonder if you imagined it. "but the answer will always be found within yourself."

you open the book, embracing the smell of aged paper that wafts out as it faintly crackles from the slight bend of its spine. the pages are illegible, but as your fingers trace the text, you understand them anyways.

"you finding the answer is inevitable," alhaitham says. a grandfather clock chimes in the center of the room four times as alhaitham pauses, as if expecting its interruption. "the only question is when."

you stare at him in bafflement, confusion warping your expression briefly, before you return to the pages in front of you. they tell a story of a person whom you do not know, but they feel familiar nonetheless.

"knowledge means nothing if there is no action to follow it," alhaitham says. "but by all means, continue fruitlessly seeking your answers."

"you're not going to help?" you ask. "you taunt me with your words, yet you do not extend any form of guidance?"

"i am the god of knowledge, but i never once claimed to be the god of shared knowledge."

the book in your hand weighs heavy as indignation takes over you. the idiot before you wants action? he wants to speak in mocking, faux platitudes as he weaves riddles around you in unclear words? doesn't he prefer to keep to himself? shouldn't he know to keep to himself?

uncharacteristic anger boils within you, rising up your throat as you snap the book close. the god turns to look at you once more, thoroughly unimpressed with your existence.

"you... you..." you sputter, and the god of knowledge looks at you unimpressed.

"irrational as always," he says. "letting a feeble scholar like me twist your mind into anger because you are unable to reach a conclusion on your ow-"

the scribe's words fall silent as you rear your arm back, hurling the book in your hand as hard as you can at him. but, just as the corner of the spine makes impact with his cheek, the dream shatters, and with it, all of your knowledge does as well, sending you spiraling into nothingness.

VI. GOD OF JUDGEMENT - cyno

"stand up. anger does not suit you," a voice above you says as you blearily open your eyes. confusion washes over you as you find yourself not in your room, but instead on desert sands, baking slowly to a crisp in the harsh sunlight. you squint as you look up, putting a hand over your eyes to filter out the light. carefully, the man standing over you adjusts his position so that his shadow casts itself over your eyes.

"oh gods," you groan at the sight of another godly figure. "not another."

despite your wretched complaint, the god's intimidating features soften as an amused chuckle escapes his lips.

"i think i know exactly who you were with before me," he extends a hand towards you, helping you up as the other adjusts his hat. "but shed your contempt for the gods, at least for this moment. it weighs down your soul."

as you stand up, you finally meet the god's rubied eyes, which threaten to disappear from view as desert winds ruffle his white hair. his features are sharp, as if perfectly crafted to be ever watchful. there is something threatening about his appearance, but you find comfort in his inherent vigilance. despite the polearm that is sheathed against his back, the god before you does not strike fear into your heart.

"interesting," the god notes. "normally, i have to crack a few jokes before you are this at ease. has my appearance gone soft?"

"perhaps my heart has just gone light," you say. "i am certain the scales of judgement will tip in my favor."

a dry laugh escapes the mahamatra's lips. "it is not yet time for your judgement."

"ah?" you say, tongue far lighter than it should be in the presence of the god who strikes fear into the hearts of those who stand before him. "slacking on your duties to be here in this moment, then?"

"judgement is not something that can be rushed, and one who dedicates themselves solely to their duties will lose sight of proper judgement where it matters most. rather, i-"

"take it easy, cyno," you say softly. "i was just joking."

the god of judgement's gaze widens as you speak his name, and a gentle smile splits across his fierce features. you've never met the man before this moment, but you know him far too well, enough to spout off what his favorite jokes are and exactly when he'll make them.

"you remember my name," cyno whispers, and the bated breath of anticipation that escapes his lungs twists your heart into fluttering somersaults. "maybe this is my dream after all."

you feel your cheeks warm at his words, and you are thankful for the way the summer sun hides your flustered state under the guise of sweat. nervously, you glance away. you do not know this man, but your soul does, and it does not remember him being so forward with his words.

"i must apologize," you say, earlier conversations with the other, less agreeable gods forgotten in the presence of the man who will one day decide your heavenly fate. "that is all i can say i remember."

your gaze shifts from his as you look downwards, but cyno pays your dismay no mind as he shrugs his shoulders.

"you remember me well enough to place us both within the desert. you've never been fond of the heat, but you know i am," the god says, seriousness lacing his words. "perhaps we can go somewhere more agreeable for the both of us."

"would you not like to stay in the desert?" you ask. "the sun is uncomfortable, but it is not scorching."

a rumble in the distance interrupts the both of you, and you turn to look at the sound. a wry smile crosses cyno's expression at the sight of the sandstorm in the distance. within the cloud of sand that quickly approaches, lightning races between individual grains of sand, promising danger. as you watch, enchanted by the dangerous sight, cyno's hand wraps itself around your wrist. the soft scrape of the edge of his gloves draws your attention back to him, but the mirth stored within his expression has long since left.

"close your eyes," cyno gently orders and you oblige. "concentrate on somewhere else. anywhere you want, otherwise the dream will shatter."

you heed his words as a gust of wind breezes past the two of you, ruffling the fabric of your clothes. but, the wind fades as quickly as it came, and you open your eyes to a familiar sight. you have never been here before, at least not in your current sense. it does not exist in the waking world, but a sense of deja vu washes over you. you've been here before, but you also haven't.

"puspa cafe," cyno murmurs. "quite fascinating that you choose to revisit this time and world of all places."

"is there something wrong with it?" you ask, suddenly worried about how he may judge you for such a choice. "i... don't recognize it. i do, but i don't."

"when you pick places like this," cyno says. "it means our time is limited together. it must nearly be sunrise for you."

confusion coats your mind like a sticky syrup. sunrise? end of your time together? what does he mean? your awareness of your situation muddles even further as the two of you sit down at one of the cafe tables. this is how it's always been for the two of you. this is puspa cafe, in the middle of sumeru city. cyno has just returned from one of his missions as the general mahamatra, just after being reinstated, and you invited him to meet you here.

typically, there are others that show up with the two of you, but you can't remember their faces. instead, your mind fixates on cyno. it is as if your mind is occupied by other things, only able to consciously focus on one person at a time. this is how it's always been. what is he talking about?

"sunrise?" you ask. "but, look out the window, it's daytime, cyno. we agreed to meet here yesterday. don't tell me you're bailing now."

the corners of cyno's lips twitch. "of course not. what did we agree to speak of here, again?"

you look up at him, baffled by his sudden lack of memory. his piercing gaze flits over your face, as if grappling to understand the situation. it fills you with an odd sense of sadness. has the time away from sumeru city really scattered his thoughts this badly?

"you wanted to show me your new tcg deck. you picked up some new cards in mondstadt, right?" you ask and cyno nods slowly, as if finally catching up to speed.

"mondstadt. i see."

"yeah?" you ask, smiling wide at him. your ignorance has consumed you, now blissfully unaware of the past moments in your dream with him. moments of lucidity are all too rare for you, and cyno knows this well. one day, your paths will cross outside of the limitations of your dreams, but for now, cyno must abide by their rules, no matter how much he wishes to follow his own code of internal judgement and belief.

not wanting you to awake by insisting on your awareness of the dream, cyno pulls out his familiar deck of cards, with several new and shiny cards. each character card has a warped face, as you cannot remember this moment you once lived. but cyno remembers it precisely, despite not yet having achieved godliness. he feels utterly human, but even so, you are still out of reach.

"you don't just see, cyno," you say, a mischevious giggle escaping your lips. "you t-see-g. get it? tcg?"

the pun is almost as bad as the jokes he makes, and cyno groans at your joke. carefully, you take some of his newest tcg cards in your hand, gently inspecting the intricate art on each card.

"um, i know you just got back to sumeru and all that," you say, unable to make eye contact with him as you look at the drawing of blonde hair of the acting grand master of mondstadt before you. "but would you want to meet up again tomorrow? i can shift some stuff around and make it work, but if you want to see your other friends first, that's ok! i can wait."

cyno remembers this conversation. he remembers how he brushed you off at first, unaware of the dividing fates that would consume the both of you whole the next day. cyno would fall victim to the mausoleum of king deshret, in which he was sent there on a rushed expedition by the akademiya grand sages, and you would fall victim to the greed of misguided eremites. he remembers the human bitterness of regret, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

so, he indulges your dreams and you feel your heart flutter as he does so.

"bring your deck and we can play a tcg matchup," cyno says. "you always were my best rival."

the smile that spreads across your face is more radiant than the desert sun, and the edges of your vision wobble as you look at cyno. a faint blush rises to his cheeks, and just as you notice his slightly flustered state, your dream melts into the sand.

your eyes flutter open. the dull gray ceiling of your apartment is a stark contrast to the bright colors of what you were dreaming of. the air still smells of freshly roasted coffee, but as you try to pinpoint why the aroma is so familiar, it fades. instead, you smell the familiar scent of your bedroom's air freshener as you attempt to hold onto the fleeting scenes of your dream, only to watch as the memories of what never was slip through your fingers like sand.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fluff #axia.writing #writing.mythos #writing.cyno #writing.alhaitham #writing.childe

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mgparker · 2 years

Text

moment of forever

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

sequel for scared to breathe

part i | word count: >6k

summary: months after the events of the multiversal battle, you’re stuck in an endless loop of helplessness and isolation. when seeking help from the person who started it all goes extraordinarily wrong, you find yourself in a different universe all together… with no way home.

warnings: sequel to scared to breathe, f!reader, sad feelings, MOM spoilers, long intro before peter content, fluff, injury, fast-paced with lots of time skips, more like a series of important little events, fast-paced romance, some another chance easter eggs, mostly edited

i won’t lie. this is a bit too quick for my taste and it’s all kinda shoved together. lots of little events in between each scene are excluded for the sake of giving both reader & peter a happy ending. but if you’d like to see more of the in-between stuff, i’d be more than happy to create their own little world. oh and also sorry for the long doctor strange intro, it was necessary. anyway, here’s some fluff .

Despite your exhaustive efforts to figure out why the world especially hated you, the answer just wouldn’t come.

Not even as you cried in your tiny apartment, fingers pulling at the ends of your strained hair painfully, lungs desperately searching for air.

Why, why on earth were you, of all people, the only one who was exempt from Strange’s stupid spell? Is there a reason the universe spared you the mercy of being oblivious to the starving pain that would come from being separated from everything you once knew?

Granted, the sorcerer’s spell didn’t erase all previous connections from your life—even the ones that were created due to Peter Parker’s important role in your growing years—but it definitely caused a strain on all the important ones.

Ned, MJ, hell even Happy…

Because try as they might, they could never really explain how they came to know you—only that they suddenly just did, influenced by a moment in their life that was shadowed by a cloud of darkness and mystery.

Yes, Peter Parker may not have been the only person in your world that you cared about, but he was damn well responsible for most of the other relationships that you held dear.

Without him, you would’ve never befriended Ned Leeds or Michelle Jones. You would’ve never interned for Tony Stark or wiggled your way into Happy Hogan’s secretly warm heart.

Without him, you would’ve never gotten into this situation in the first place… but you couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t hold any ill-will towards the teen, not when every cell in your body longed to leave your apartment right now and go searching all of New York City for him.

Why were you the only person who could remember Peter Parker?

Not only that—why did you still dream of the other Peter Parker that you met what seems like years ago? (In reality, it’d only been a few months).

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t. And it especially wasn’t fair that you had no solid way of finding either of them.

The tears on your cheek were starting to dry. And your desperation was starting to drive you insane…

Your last option had been running through your mind for a while now, the thought popping into your everyday thoughts sporadically throughout the last few weeks until you had no choice but to finally entertain it.

It couldn’t be the wildest idea to exist—people had done crazier things before, right?

And as you wiped at your face and stood up from your creaking bed, you were determined to finally see it through.

177A Bleeker Street was even more daunting than it was last year; the Sanctum Santorum hanging over you menacingly.

But it wasn’t enough to deter you from your plan; you took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock—

The door swung open suddenly. Your hand fell forward along with most of your body before you caught yourself embarrassingly.

“Jesus,” you sighed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried your hardest not to glance back at the fellow New Yorkers that were rushing down the street behind you. Like they’d really care, honestly.

“Not Jesus.”

“Wow!” You practically screamed, one hand flying to your chest while the other flew around aimlessly, desperate to put distance between you and the unexpected voice. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

Doctor Stephen Strange stood at the top of the grand staircase, reminiscent to a few months ago when he’d greeted you, Ned and MJ before everything went to shit.

In his usual sarcastic fashion, one eyebrow raises carefully. “What’s uncalled for is you showing up at my door without invite.”

Someone’s in a bad mood. “Yeah, sorry about that, we aren’t exactly buddies, and I couldn’t just dial you up so—” His outfit caught you off-guard, a pristine suit and tie replacing his usual sorcerer attire. “What’re you wearing?”

Strange rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He pointedly ignored your question.

The compliment you were ready to give died on your lips, a glare replacing your original response.

“I need help fixing a mistake that you made.”

“’Mistake that I made?’” There’s a hint of a smile on the man’s face, but it isn’t a happy one.

You realized how bold you were being. “Y-yeah.”

“Let’s get something straight,” Strange began, slamming the door shut behind you with a flick of his finger. “The only mistake I made was inviting three children into my home and effectively ruining any privacy I might’ve once had.”

Definitely in a bad mood. Maybe you should take a different route.

“Sir, I’m aware that showing up here unannounced wasn’t a good idea but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Irritated, Strange shut his eyes and sighed.

He could think of a hundred reasons not to hear you out, but something tells him it might actually be important. After all, it was his initial spell that nearly caused the destruction of the multiverse. Even if the last spell was successful and Spider-Man’s identity was concealed from everyone’s mind, including his own, there still could be some loose ends he could’ve forgotten to tie.

“Can you walk fast?”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you walk fast? I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

Realizing this might be your only chance, you jumped at it frantically. “Yes—yes, I can. Super fast.”

Adjusting his watch, Strange jogged down the steps and towards the door. “Talk to me on the way.”

Without hesitation, you set off after him, hot on his trail. “On the way where?”

“Wedding.”

“You’re getting married?” You gawked stupidly. Thankfully, he’s walking ahead of you.

Strange scoffed. “I wouldn’t be late to my own wedding.”

A quip sat at the tip of your tongue, but he continued. “It’s not too far so I would get to the point if I were you.”

“Right,” you matched his quick pace. “A few months ago, you cast a spell that was meant to erase the identity of Spider-Man from the entire world.”

“Yes,” he agreed roughly.

You cringed in anticipation. “Let’s say your spell didn’t exactly work.”

Your walk was brought to an abrupt halt. You whipped around to face Doctor Strange and the look on his face was deadly.

“Excuse me?”

People dodged your bodies left and right, traffic building up on the busy sidewalk.

“I know who Spider-Man is still and—”

“Stop,” his palm flew up. “Don’t say anything.”

“But I—”

“Don’t—”

“Just let me—”

“No—”

“I’m not going to tell you who he is!” You said over his protests.

It became silent.

“You know who he is,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Did you happen to remember this out of the blue or—”

“There was nothing to remember,” you said matter-of-factly. “You see, I never forgot. At the beginning, I thought the spell would take some time to settle in, so I tried to shrug it off. But then days turned into weeks and everyone else has moved on but me.”

Strange adjusted his suit, peering around the street as he tried to regain a bit of composure. Out of all things you could’ve told him, he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

How is it that you, a girl with no extraordinary abilities (that he knew of), resisted the effects of an advanced enchantment? One that even infiltrated his enhanced mind…

“Alright, kid,” you were back to walking down the street, following Strange who had a strange pep in his step. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come to this event with me. You’re going to pretend as if you don’t exist and then we’re going to figure this whole situation out after I’m done.”

You cringed at the idea of sitting through a stranger’s wedding. “Are you sure I have to go to this wedding with you? I could always stop by the Sanctum tomorrow—”

“No,” he said sternly. “I’m not so sure you understand. This shouldn’t have happened. We’re going to talk to Wong and we’re going to figure out why you have the ability to withstand a universal spell.”

And that’s how you ended up at a stranger’s wedding. A stranger who you later found out was Strange’s ex-girlfriend, who he clearly hasn’t gotten over—you had a keen eye and a knack for observation.

In all, the entire ideal was extremely uncomfortable, your jeans and t-shirt sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of elegant invitees… It wasn’t until a loud crash had all of the guests tripping over themselves to squeeze onto the balcony, chaos erupting on the streets of New York City.

Rusty from months of zero superhero action, you weren’t quick enough to reach Doctor Strange before he was throwing himself off the balcony dramatically, cape billowing behind him and leaving the group gasping at his heroics.

“Damn,” you muttered, backtracking until you were at the staircase, taking two or three steps at a time.

Staying at the wedding was likely the safest option, probably the option Strange would’ve preferred, but it had been too long since you’d been involved in crimestopping. The superhero itch was too intense to ignore… This was your element.

…Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d find once you busted through the doors onto the Manhattan streets.

A one-eyed octopus was tearing through the concrete, smashing into buses and buildings with an eye set to kill. Heart racing in your ears, you followed its line of vision onto… a girl?

She couldn’t have been much younger than you. Jet-black hair thrown up into a ponytail, a denim jacket slung over her shoulders, white sneakers that had seen better days.

Jesus.

Frantically, you looked for Strange and within the destruction, a flash of red was weaving through the running crowd. Clearly, he had the situation handled.

Without a second thought, you made a beeline toward the girl, jumping over concrete slabs and dodging overturned cars until you were feet away from her.

Fire raced through your legs. If there’s one thing you’ve gotten from this, it’s that you needed to run more.

“Hey!” You heaved, hands waving as you pushed on.

The girl’s head snapped toward you, fear stretching her lips into a deep frown. Her chest was rising as quickly as yours.

“We gotta get out of here! Let’s go—”

The ground disappeared beneath your feet, your lungs freezing as a slimy tentacle wrapped around your sore leg.

You were screaming bloody murder, possibly ripping through your vocal cords as the street got further and further from you. You were damn near close to soaring above the buildings beside you.

Pain tore through your back as you finally slammed into the balcony of a building next to you, your leg being released, forgotten by the octopus as it focused back on the girl who looked like an ant from your height.

Icy fear froze you to your spot, clutching at your throat. Since falling from the Statue of Liberty, heights had been a tricky thing for you.

A sweat broke out on your hairline, and you dared to close your eyes. There was no way down from here.

Any peace you could’ve found was quickly obliterated when your building was rattling again, the monster slamming into the balcony once more until the girl was a foot away from you.

Before the monster could end both of your lives, Strange was back on his feet again, leading it away.

You turned toward the girl. “Hey, that—that was a close one,” you attempted to joke. Turns out you spoke too soon.

The slab of concrete collapsed, sending you both sliding down the side of the building, meeting halfway in a crash of limbs and shrill screams. Frantic brown eyes found yours before everything around you was suddenly spinning, your vision surrounded by an array of colors. The two of you were falling feetfirst into a… a portal?

“Ah! What the hell?” It was the first thing you could muster, heaving from the impact of the cold, damp sidewalk.

Though your body protested, you pushed yourself onto your knees, trying to find the denim-clad girl who had fallen with you.

Except she was nowhere to be seen… and this wasn’t the New York you’d left behind.

Here, the sun was nearly gone, darkness shadowing the corners of the alley you found yourself sitting in. The lights of nearby billboards reflected on the rain drops of the concrete.

Something about all of this was off… Well, excluding the fact that your surroundings had magically disappeared and then reappeared again, only to find yourself in a completely different place than where you had just been a mere second ago.

What in the hell was going on?

Scrambling to your feet, you pressed yourself to the wall, pain shooting up your ankle as soon as you tried to put weight on it. Must’ve landed on it wrong.

You cursed under your breath, cradling your ankle as tears threatened to spill.

In fact, you were so caught up in your own agony that you failed to notice the shuffle at the end of the alleyway. Or the figure that had landed on the rooftop of the building across from you, crouched curiously.

Softly, it landed in the shadows, obscured from your vision as you continued to lament over your injured joint.

Awestruck, Spider-Man made his way closer to you. Everything in him was screaming that this whole thing must be a dream, a wildly vivid deception conjured up by the aching part of his brain that constantly longed for you.

But you looked too real, crouched over with your hair framing your pain-stricken face. T-shirt hanging over your shoulders as you mumbled undecipherable words. Even from his spot, he could see the chipped polish on your nails and the stained converse on your feet… Lord, you were even wearing the same necklace as the day of the Statue of Liberty incident.

A swell of emotions attacked him. Then, your name was leaving his lips before he could help it, his feet tripping over themselves in a clumsy matter. All to get to you before you could vanish before his very eyes.

Except this wasn’t a dream—you weren’t going to vanish—and you were really there. Breathing before him with flushed cheeks and curious eyes.

“Peter?” You breathed, recognizing the silhouette of the man even in the darkness.

Little did he know, Peter Parker from Earth-120703 also infiltrated your mind constantly, appearing in the form of sweetest dreams and fantasies (whenever you weren’t torturing yourself with nightmares). You hadn’t meant to let his short visit to your earth affect you so much, but there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off.

Tears welled up and he was quickly ripping the mask off, revealing his messy brown locks and shiny disbelieving eyes.

“H-how?” He was slowly approaching you now. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms.

You mirrored his look of disbelief. “I don’t know. I-I went through this portal and ended up here—oof!”

The dam broke as he suddenly pulled you in, legs tangling with his. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as close as humanly possible with an idiotically huge smile.

You never thought you’d seen your Peter again, much less this Peter. Happy couldn’t begin to describe the plethora of feelings rushing to your brain.

Beneath your grip, you felt Peter’s body begin to tremble. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You pulled away the slightest bit, searching for his eyes and feeling your heart crack when you found the tears spilling down his red cheeks. “Peter…”

“I have to be dreaming,” he shuddered, closing his eyes softly.

You smiled. “This is real, Peter. I’m here… somehow.”

He didn’t answer, only tightening his grip around your waist. It began to drizzle, rain trickling over your intertwined bodies, but it didn’t dare ruin the moment of bliss between you two.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure how this happened… but what I do know is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since December.”

Peter finally looked up, catching your gaze with a clouded look.

You were distantly aware of how little space existed between the two of you. “Say something,” you breathed.

Swallowing his fear, Peter sighed shakily. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Peter, you had no choice—”

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you how much being with you meant to me,” he finished pointedly. Your gaze kept flickering between his intense stare and the lips you’d been dreaming about for months.

This was a fool’s game. Harboring feelings for someone you’d only known for a day, but you had felt the profound love he held for you—in his universe, yours and the next. Even in that one day he’d spent most of ignoring you. The last hour you had after the battle created a bond you were sure had been pulling on your heart strings until this very moment.

It was a fool’s game—loving someone who had loved a different version of you. But despite all of it, the universe had created your souls for each other, in this world and the next, forever bonded by the complexity of your hearts, sewn and meticulously intertwined only to fit with each other’s.

You pulled him into your embrace again, cuddling him in an attempt to soothe over any guilt or pain he felt from your sudden goodbye. “I understand. It’s so okay, I’m here now.”

“You’re here now,” he repeated into your hair shakily. His hands held you like glass.

It’s funny—how adamant he was on not meeting your eyes, not talking to you, hell not even touching you all those months ago. Now, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

The cold, distant Peter you met was gone. And your own behavior was surprising you— it was a mixture of the relief of escaping your months-long isolation since the spell gone wrong, and the feelings that were blossoming slowly but surely.

A sharp sting reminded you of your pressing injury.

“Peter,” you hissed, trying to divert the weight off your leg.

“What?” He seemed unnecessarily startled, pulling away from you as if he’d been burned. His frantic eyes searched your body.

“It’s my ankle,” he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how you were hunched over in pain. “I think I sprained it when I landed here.”

In a series of clumsy movements, Peter’s mask was securely placed over his face again and he was crouched in front of you funnily.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Even with the mask, you could imagine the eyebrow raise Peter gave you as he spun to look at you. “I can take you to my place. We can check it out there…”

You didn’t mean to hesitate. Since you had been thrown into this new world, your brain had been moving in slow-motion.

“If you want, of course! There’s-there’s a hospital a few blocks down. If you want, you could get it checked out by a professional because I—” a nervous laugh escaped him. “—I’m obviously not a doctor. Of course, you’d want to get it checked out by a doctor. Sorry, that was stupid—”

“Hey!” You laughed. “I don’t mind getting evaluated by Bugboy. I happen to trust you more than anyone anyway so…”

You’d said it so casually, but to Peter, it meant everything.

He stared at you for a moment too long before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, then it’s decided. Back to my place we go. Fair warning, I’m not the neatest person.”

You hopped on his back without an ounce of grace. “I don’t mind.”

You’re a clean freak, Peter thought quietly. Of course, you mind.

But he discarded it to the back of his mind, focused on getting you to a safer place.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And then you were swinging the streets of Manhattan, soaring over bridges and buildings until you were landing on the fire escape of a Queens apartment. High above the ground, definitely on a double-digit floor.

For once, the height didn’t scare you.

Peter wasted no time in retrieving a first aid kit as soon as he’d gotten you both through the window. You could barely make out the layout of his bedroom, disoriented from how fast the hero was moving.

Peter crouched in front of you, dropping to his knees as he gently pushed you back onto his bed.

You hit the comforter softly, holding yourself up by your elbows as you peered down at the suit-clad man.

He poked and prodded at your swollen ankle, drawing out a long hiss through your nostrils as you fought the reflex of kicking him away.

Smoothly, he reached into the first aid kit and took out a large roll. Wrapping it around the joint firmly, he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

“Good news—it isn’t sprained.”

“Great,” you sighed in relief, falling back onto the bed.

“But it could hurt to walk for a few days.”

You threw a thumbs up. “Awesome.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t have classes for a few weeks so it all evens out.”

A few weeks? Did you want to stay in this world for that long? Did you really have a choice in the matter? Did you even want to go back?

It barely took any contemplating for you to realize that you didn’t. Doctor Strange was clearly in over his head with all the ruckus happening at his doorstep and he couldn’t have looked more clueless when you told him of your predicament this morning… you wouldn’t be surprised if the sorcerer had no clue how to fix the issue… and at this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

You hadn’t realized that forgetting your Peter would also mean forgetting the one who had just patched up your swollen ankle. Not that your Peter didn’t mean as much to you (in all honesty, your years of friendship with him meant more than anything in the world) but the growing bond with this universe’s Peter had transcended the barriers of space and time…

That had to mean something. You felt it.

Still, you couldn’t help the slightest twinge of guilt. I mean, you had technically landed in his universe uninvited. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

It was stupid to say, but you couldn’t help it.

Are you kidding? Peter gawked. He didn’t dare utter it out loud though. “It’s no imposition at all,” is what he settled for instead. Because he knew you, down to your very core. He could read you like a magazine.

The sincere look in his eyes was all it took to ease your hesitance. “Thanks,” you smiled bashfully.

Before he could stare at you in awe any longer, Peter stood up with the first aid kit in hand. He moved to put it away, but he was stopped by a sudden grip on his hand.

It was your hand, small and warm in his. Curved and carved in familiar lines that he’d spent hours and hours memorizing when he once had you in his arms…

Frozen, he waited for your next move.

Wobbling, you pulled yourself up until you were nearly chest-to-chest with Peter.

It was still and quiet for a few moments.

Now that you were so close to him, your mind went blank.

“Um—” his eyes darted from your eyes to your moving lips. “What… what year is it?”

Wow. Out of all things you could’ve broken the tension with, the only question that comes to mind is the date. You instantly want to bash your head into a wall. It’d been too long without any Peter Parker interaction; you were beginning to lose your touch.

It seemed like a bucket of cold water fell on Peter’s head. The anticipation in his gaze melting into amusement. “It’s, erm, it’s 2015.”

Your jaw dropped, leaning back to sit on the bed again. “Are you serious?”

Your grip on his hand didn’t waver. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you got up in the first place—you just didn’t want him to leave your side yet.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Imagine my surprise when I landed in your world.”

The first aid kit clattered at the movement, uncomfortably hitting his shoulder. Getting a grip, you finally released his hand.

“Right…” you murmured, watching as he went to store the kit underneath the bathroom sink. There was a hesitance in his step, as if he too didn’t want to linger far from your presence.

He sauntered back over to you. Sitting crisscross-applesauce, Peter gave you a smile that made your heart stop.

“So… what have I missed?”

It was a bit strange at first, you had to admit, but eventually, you and Peter fell into a routine.

Well, it was more like you had assimilated into his routine… staying at his apartment (though you definitely had the choice of leaving if you wanted to) without complaint and attempting to chef up whatever you could with the sparce ingredients Peter picked up from the grocery store.

When you weren’t cooking something, you found yourself tidying the small space up, despite the man urging you to rest your ankle.

It’d been days, almost a week, and your injury was on the precipice of full healing. The only word for Peter’s behavior was doting.

It was only the seventh night of your arrival on this strange world that you and Peter finally moved past the awkward roommate stage.

It was late… or rather early in the morning. The clock read 3:27 AM, the LED lights flashing behind your closed eyelids from how many times you’d checked on it throughout the night.

Peter had arrived twenty minutes ago from his Spider-Man duties. The shower was on, the only sound in the apartment and you found yourself hyper fixating on it.

Sighing, you dreadfully thought of how he would open the bathroom door, hair damp and eyes weighed down from the lack of sleep. How he’d smile at you brightly despite it, and wish you a goodnight before softly closing his bedroom door and quietly making his way to the small couch in his even smaller living room.

It made you feel like a burden, even though Peter did everything in his power to make sure you felt like anything but.

Reassurances could only work for so long.

Which triggered the same discussion every morning—you’d tell him you were more than happy to take the couch and he’d endlessly argue against it.

Tonight was going to be different.

Your eyes squinted against the light of the bathroom, the door opening slowly. Steam poured into the room and along came Peter, shaking out his messy hair.

As usual, his tired eyes lit up when he saw you sitting up against the bedframe. Even with the messiest bedhead and crumpled t-shirt, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

God, he never would’ve thought you’d be in his life again. The multiversal incident was something out of his wildest dreams, an instance that should’ve never happened, a blip in the timeline of the universe… but God, was he glad that it happened.

Otherwise, he would’ve never known that you were the same here and in every universe, with a spirit as shiny as gold and as bright as the sun.

You were his sun.

Dragging his feet to the door, he began to give you his usual goodnight.

“Wait,” you cut him off.

He did just that, hand hovering over the doorknob expectantly.

“If you won’t let me sleep on the couch,” you swallowed down your nerves. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

Silence.

“I just hate that you’re out there and I’m in here so I thought there’s more than enough space… if you want.”

More silence.

You overstepped, of course you did. That’s the only thing you could gather from the impassive look on the brunette’s face. An apology was at the tip of your tongue, regret staining your ears red.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Peter protested. Still, his hand slid off the doorknob.

“It’s your bed,” you pointed out.

“Still,” Peter shook his head. “I don’t mind the couch. Really. It’s more convenient too, you know—”

“More convenient than your own bedroom?” You chuckled, realizing Peter was as nervous as you were.

In all honesty, he couldn’t want anything more. He longed to close the distance between you constantly. When once your touch practically burned him in that small supply closet in Midtown High’s lab, now it was all he could think about.

Fear held him back. The fear of getting too close and then losing you again. The fear of falling even more in love with you because it scientifically just couldn’t be possible. Loving someone any more than he loved you would surely send him to the hospital.

But you were staring at him with glistening eyes, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, but still letting the corners of your lips curl into an anxious frown.

“It’s just that… ever since that night—when I fell off the Statue of Liberty—”

Every muscle in Peter’s body seized up, eyes shutting on instinct. Endless images of your falling body replayed like a broken record.

“—I haven’t been able to sleep. Every night, I’m right back there. Falling into a bottomless void—” your voice cracked and you quickly cleared your throat. It was pathetic to cry about something that had already happened. Especially when the person in front of you had experienced it before, twice.

“I’m sorry,” you gathered your bearings. “If I’ve crossed a line…”

“Absolutely not,” breathed Peter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. With that, he finally gave into his desire, rushing toward you before you could break down entirely.

Arms wrapped around your waist, the bed sinking with his weight, and you finally let yourself feel.

It was a mixture of fear—no, terror—and comfort. The sensation of falling again but being caught in the arms of the person you trusted with your life. Peter had saved your life and you knew he’d do it time and time again.

So that’s how you fell asleep that night, pressed into the crook of Peter’s neck.

You barely heard it, but as you drifted off, a quiet whisper was uttered with a gentle press of lips against your forehead.

“I won’t ever let anything happen to you. Never again.”

You were happy to find that every night after was nightmare-free, instead replaced with dreams of your happiest moments growing up in Queens. Flashes of your friends in Midtown, giggling with Ned, Peter and MJ. Memories of the last moment you had with Peter, who was quickly becoming your favorite person, at the bottom of the monument of your original universe.

The two of you were slowly becoming more comfortable with crossing more boundaries, tangling your limbs together in bed or wrapping each other in a hug whenever Peter would return home from his Spider-Man duties.

It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you, a stark contrast to how he’d acted the first time you met him. But the bandage had been ripped off and things were different now. He had a second chance to make things right with you, to not commit the same mistakes he once had.

You were his second chance.

Though you were constantly fretting over pulling your own weight around the place, Peter felt like you were doing too much. After all, his home would always be yours.

So, it’s how he ended up taking a night off from patrolling to instead gather all the ingredients for your favorite dish. (At least he hoped red pepper pasta was your favorite dish, everything else he’s known about you has been consistent in both universes).

When you woke up from your nap that evening, seeking the delicious smell that was wafting in from the kitchen, your heart melted when you found Peter at the stove. Dashing between the counter and the sizzling sauce on the burner, he had never been more handsome.

It was pathetic really, the speed it had taken you to cross the small distance between the bedroom door and where the hero stood.

But it didn’t matter. Because you had one single thought in your mind—one that had been floating around for weeks now in the back of your head—and it took over.

A sound of surprise escaped Peter when you crashed into him, spatula crashing onto the ground forgotten. You wasted no time in tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him close enough that his shaky breath hit your lips.

You sought permission in his eyes, searching until he gave you his answer. And it came faster than expected, the tiniest of nods bringing his mouth closer to yours before Peter pressed his lips to yours.

Slightly chapped but a sensation that turned the spark in your belly into a full-blown fire… uncontained and wild, burning through every emotion until all you could feel was unconditional love.

A feeling you didn’t know you were searching for all your life until you ended up in this precise moment, wrapped in the arms of someone who loved you more than the moon loved the stars and the sun loved the moon.

You pitied those who wouldn’t find a love as extraordinary as the one you’re consumed by… because you’ve said it again and again but only just realized the raw depth and truth to these words— the universe had created your souls for each other, beyond the voids of space and time, destined to intertwine infinitely until the world ended and another began… It was destiny that had brought him to you the first time.

And fate that would have you sharing this moment of forever in a small, dingy apartment in Queens.

hey! missed you all <3 i’ve had about 10 peter parker drafts in my computer for a few months and they’re finally coming together.

hope you’re all doing well & much love to you all<3 feel free to send me a pm with any updates or rants or requests. i’m aware that there’s a good amount of requests i never got to. don’t worry, i didn’t ignore them. i’ve just lacked inspiration to write for so long and i’m still not quite confident in my ability to write in a style that i genuinely like. still, tumblr makes me extremely happy and i love interacting with all you readers and creators.

anyway, that’s all for now.

— elle <3

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elikaiaph · 2 years

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deja vu (scaramouche x gn! reader)

어둠 속 한 줄기 빛처럼

손잡아 준 너를 따라가

the discarded puppet of the electro archon never expected to find someone willing to teach him about the tears he cried at night, nor the pounding in his chest when the sound of thunder echoed throughout his mind. yet, when drifting along the endless plains of inazuma, a fellow wanderer came along and gave him a home, even if they never stopped traveling across the land of eternity.

note: lowercase intended, slight name spoilers, scaramouche is nice

"hey, are you alright?"

you never received a response to your question. what a pain. the boy laying at your feet seemed half-delirious, and you took it upon yourself to check up on him. he was feverish and soaking wet, although one could simply take him for a drunkard at a distance. you decided to carry him back to your temporary camp near araumi.

as you lifted the indigo haired boy onto your back, you silently marveled at how light he was, thanking whatever deity that would hear your gratitude, as the trip seemed a lot less daunting with the man's light weight. you carried him to your camp with ease.

when you arrived at your current place of residence, you lightly set the boy down on your bedding and took the chance to analyze his appearance. he looked extremely young and extremely beautiful, almost feminine in appearance. his hair was cut choppily, and it brushed across his face like a pencil over paper. his eyes were… purple?

you hastily jumped back from the previously resting man and allowed him to take in his surroundings without interruption. even after he was done scrutinizing his current location, he remained quiet and looked at you warily. you decided to just go ahead and introduce yourself, secretly hoping for a response from the person in your tent.

"my name is (y/n), i took you here because you were passed out near chinju forest, and i… didn't want a stranger's death on my hands."

still, the boy remained eerily silent. in his mind, however, he was curious about your voice. he had never heard such inflection to a person's words; apathy was all he knew. even with his silence, he still offered a small nod of his head at your words. he didn't understand your motivations, but you were sheltering him from the torrential downpour all across the nation of eternity, and that was enough for now.

you seemed satiated with his actions and gently scooted closer to the position you were in when he woke up.

"you should probably go back to resting. you seemed seriously sick when i found you, so even if you look better now, i'm sure you need the break," you said, gently in comparison to anything he's heard from his "mother".

he easily complied to your wishes, despite the dreams sure to haunt him, even if he never remembered them once he awoke. he laid himself back down and allowed sleep to consume him.

『☽◯☾』

when the boy awoke, he felt the dried tear tracks staining his cheeks like a curse unable to be lifted. remembering his location, he spared a glance to you. you were sitting upright, although you appeared to be resting. you looked uncomfortable. it stirred a response in the indigo eyed boy, and he lightly adjusted your position to where your head was in his lap, entirely unknowing of his motivations for doing so. however, with your changing in position, you began to shake off the tendrils of sleep clouding your mind and awakened from your slumber.

you looked at the boy above you, the sunrise behind him almost making him look as though he were a celestial being. a red hue began to color your cheeks, realizing your current position with the male. still, you made no move to withdraw from your place in his lap.

"you can stay here, if you'd like," you stated, almost on impulse.

the ethereal boy simply offered you the same nod from earlier.

『☽◯☾』

staying with the indigo eyed male was so easy for you, as if you were missing a part of yourself that his presence brought back. he still refused to utter a word to you, but you quickly picked up on his small gestures. his hand would be held to his chest when he wished to help, typically with packing up the campsite, he would put his hands behind his back if he wanted space, and he would toy with his fingers when he had a question about something you were doing. the most monumental thing you noticed, however, was that he always flinched at the sound of thunder. it wasn't your place to question him, though.

the two of you were currently staying near nazuichi beach, although you never strayed too close to the disgraced samurai found on the shores. the wanderer was gently resting his head on your lap, as you had not fully set up the campsite yet and were lacking pillows. you slightly jolted when his weight shifted on your thighs and glanced down to see tears running down his face.

you had never seen the boy cry before, beginning to silently panic as you thought over what to do. following your intuition, you began lightly playing with his violet hair. your panic was mildly dulled as you realized how soft it was. however, your actions were enough to stir the mulberry colored male awake.

he simply stared at you before murmuring a quiet "thank you."

『☽◯☾』

the male you found yourself traveling with didn't say too much from that point on, simply informing you that he had no name. you took this in stride, merely choosing to call him 'kuni' from the uninhabited area you found him in. he seemed pleased with your choice of name, showing the rare fragment of a smile.

you found yourself growing closer with kuni, making sure to stay with him when the skies became dark with rain and glowed with electricity. his presence became a comfort to you, glad to have someone else on your travels.

the two of you were making your way across kannazuka, attempting to make haste against the oncoming storm. kuni, however, insistently tugged you into the direction of a small cave. you both made your way inside to see that it was spacious and full of glowing minerals. he found a small surface for the both of you to rest on and opened his mouth to speak once more.

"i… want you to teach me how to be human."

your spirited, understanding beam was answer enough, but you still responded to his unspoken question.

"of course, kuni! i'll teach you everything i know."

with your enthused answer, the puppet could finally feel as though he had a home.

#genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin fanfic #kunikuzushi x reader #Spotify

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Fourteen

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Dubious Explicit Content (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Manipulated Reader, Major Mind Fuckery.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.4k

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You were sitting in the gardens, staring blankly out into the distance with your hands in your lap. The entire point of you being out in the gardens was to enjoy the view, but you had stopped paying attention to the incredible views the moment your mind had a chance to wander. It had been nine days since you had tried to escape from your home and you were… confused, to say the least. What had convinced you to try and run away from your home, from Morpheus? Did you not love your husband and home? Your confusion was confusing. For the first time since you had sat down, emotion crossed your face in the form of a frown. The Dreaming was your home, was it not? You felt something shift in your mind, like tendrils wrapping around that thought of doubt and evaporating it from your mind. Your head hurt for the briefest moments as those tendrils clawed at your uncertainty… then nothing. You blinked rapidly, your mind now empty.

“What am I doing in the garden?” You questioned, looking around in curiosity. The flowers were in full bloom, perfuming the air with their lovely scent, and the mountains in the background always provided a breathtaking view. You must have come to enjoy the views. “I really should stop forgetting things.” You mused to yourself, rising from your seat and clutching the shawl that was draped around your shoulders, closer to your body. It was cold out and you were chilled. You had clearly spent an extended time outside off in your own little world to have gotten this cold. Stepping away from the vacated bench, you wandered back towards the palace, seeking the warm and comforting environment of your home.

Upon entering the palace, the temperature change was immediately more comfortable, but it would be a long time before you warmed back up. A perfect excuse to head to the library, find a book and sit in front of the fireplace in your sitting room. That brought a happy smile to your face and you picked up your pace, eager to see what new books now graced the shelves of the library. You swept into the library, the skirts of your lavish dress sailing across white marble as you walked. Your eyes started searching for Lucienne, surely she was somewhere within the library, she always was. “Lucienne? Are you here?” No answer. Apparently, she wasn’t around this time. You would have to go in search of a book to read by yourself.

A daunting task since the bookshelves seemed to be endless, constantly shifting and growing, rearranging themselves and even playing tricks. You had gotten lost the last time you went in search of a book by yourself… but in your defense, you got entirely turned around when the shelves started changing and they didn’t seem to want to let you leave. Standing in front of a line of shelves, you gave the aisles a wary look.

“Are you going to play nice with me today?” You questioned, eyeing the dark shelves scrupulously. The library creaked and shivered, reacting to your words. For a second you felt as if you were being mocked. You huffed and wrinkled your nose, stepping forwards in refusal to be intimidated by wood. You stalked forwards, determined to be unflappable while running your fingers along the spines of the books. Most of the books in this section were books of dreams and while it was interesting to read about what people dreamed about, you felt this was an invasion of privacy. You finally wandered to the section of books written by human hands. You pulled out a few books and checked the covers, tabbing through the first few pages of a couple. Nothing particular was standing out to you. A shiver went up your spine and you trembled. Your hands clutched your shawl closer. You really needed to pick a book and warm up. You spotted a book higher on the shelf, The Secret Garden, and reached up to retrieve it. It was just out of your reach. Then an arm appeared over yours and plucked the book for you.

You stopped stretching up on your toes, feeling the warmth from Morpheus’s body behind you. Leaning your head back, you looked up into Morpheus’s face, once again caught up in his intense gaze. He placed the book down on the edge of the bookshelf and wrapped his arms around your body. A noise of appreciation bubbled in the back of your throat as you bathed in the sudden warmth surrounding you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You questioned softly, confusion once again running through your mind. Your mysterious husband was a very busy man, even you knew that, so why was he here with you? Morpheus leaned down and pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling your skin. You sighed as the heat from his lips and breath caressed your skin, heating it from its chilled state.

“I will always have time to spend with my beloved wife,” Morpheus spoke into your skin, further nuzzling your throat. The hands at your waist followed your arms to trail across your wrists, then he slipped his long fingers between yours in a comforting grasp. “Your skin is cold and you shiver, my dream. What reason does my queen have to be cold?” Morpheus was far from happy to find that you were chilled to the bone, what had led you to be in such an undesirable state? You leaned further into his arms, blinking at him with innocent eyes.

“I was out in the garden,” You explained, a troubled look crossing your face. Morpheus felt your confusion. “I think I might have fallen asleep, I can’t remember why I was out there.” You tried to think harder about what you had been doing in the garden, your eyebrows pinching together. A headache bloomed at your temple and your face scrunched. Your hand left Morpheus’s and you rubbed your forehead. “I think I—“ Morpheus cut you off, sliding his hand up to cover the one you had at your temple. You felt a shiver of magic rush through your body and your headache disappeared, along with your thoughts of the garden. “Sorry, what were we talking about?” Morpheus smiled at you, gently pulling your fingers away from your forehead.

“You are cold, my dream.” Morpheus prompted, directing the conversation and delicately maneuvering your body in a semicircle so you were facing him. His arm slid around your back and pulled you against his chest. “Shall I see to warming your body?” As Morpheus spoke to you, you felt heat start to simmer beneath your skin. You squirmed in place, feeling a desire nip at your veins. You softly moaned when Morpheus began nipping at the column of your throat, teasing you with biting kisses that made your heart speed up in your chest. Then you were pressed back against the bookshelves with Morpheus’s pelvis pressing into yours. Your stomach twisted and you felt a throbbing sensation between your legs. A soft whimper escaped your parted lips. That was all it took for Morpheus to decide to chase after his desire for you. You were far too irresistible in this state with the sweetest sounds escaping from your parted lips. He had to have you.

Morpheus’s hands dropped to your waist and he effortlessly lifted you. You found yourself precariously perched on a ledge of the bookshelf, hard book spines along with wood pressed into your back. But you didn’t have time to notice what was pressing into your back. Morpheus quickly had his mouth on yours, greedily running his lips over yours in a repetitive motion as if he couldn’t get enough of the sensation. He couldn’t. With one hand gripping the bookshelf, you lifted your other to press your fingers against his jaw. Your thumb stroked the sharp bone softly before Morpheus tugged on your lower lip. You gasped and he drank that sweet sound until it consumed him. He wanted more. Needed more. So he took it. On your next breath of air, he dove in, drawing his tongue across yours and making hungry sounds in the back of his throat. You tasted better than the nectar of the gods. Morpheus continued to kiss you, devouring as much of you as he could get while you clung to him, oblivious to his true desires. Oblivious to his obsession to have you and never let go.

His hands dug into your skirts, roughly pushing them up as he caressed your skin and imprinted his touch on your body. Your body jolted and tingled against his touches and lips breaking apart, you breathily moaned while trying to catch your breath. The departure of your mouth from his led Morpheus to descend back to the flesh of your throat. He started roughly laving at your skin, eager to leave behind his touch and presence. You moaned deep in your throat when fingers pushed up your inner thigh and curled around the band of your underwear.

“Morpheus,” You breathed, your eyes fluttering and the hand in his hair tugging the strands. “We’re in the library!” Morpheus bit your neck in retaliation to your words. You cried out, your grip on his hair sharp. “We can’t just—“ You sputtered to a stop when his lips began kissing all the right places on his way up your neck. Then you squirmed once more as he pressed his jean-clad body father against yours. Without the thick fabric of your dress between your bodies, you could feel just how hard his cock was through his jeans and your body only burned that much brighter. You were fighting a losing battle. “Morpheus, Lucienne—“

“Will not meddle in the affairs of her king and queen,” Morpheus stated firmly between the kisses he pressed along your jaw. “And I will have you wherever I so choose,” His fingers tugged at your underwear once more and you felt the fabric dissolve to nothing. Then his hand seared your flesh, stroking your cunt and teasing you to an almost unbearable state. Already you were ready for him, your body reacted instinctively to his touch. Good, as much as he loved to taste your nectar and watch as you fell apart beneath him, he had to be in you. Now. With a rustle of jeans and a zipper, Morpheus freed his cock and ever so easily sank into your cunt, watching as pleasure ricocheted across your face and your eyes rolled. You never looked more beautiful than when you were filled with his cock, save for when you were lost in the rapture of orgasm with Morpheus’s seed dripping from your body.

Just like the previous times, he had taken you, your body welcomed his cock with velvet softness that Morpheus would never tire of. He withdrew from you at a torturous pace before thrusting forwards once more, his hips bumping into yours and pressing your body further into the bookshelf. A hiss slipped from your lips at the first raw strokes, then the sounds coming from your honeyed lips turned sweeter, addicting. Letting your head fall back, you focused on your breathing as hands gripped your body in a bruising grip. Morpheus pressed his face against your bared neck once more, teasing the skin with his lips, then teeth. He nibbled, explored, and drank in the feeling of the blood excitedly rushing beneath your skin. Oh, how your cunt flexed and clenched around his cock as he thrust into your body over and over again.

The library was spinning as you felt the most incredible pleasure. Even with wood and book digging into your back and the uncomfortable position you were pressed in, you could only feel pleasure. You whimpered in pain when Morpheus struck a sore spot within your body, tensing in his hold with a quiver. Morpheus was quick to purr words of calming reassurances in your ear, his face rising to nuzzle yours.

“Relax my dream,” His words curled across your skin in a gentle urge. You hiked one of your legs over his waist and held him closer, your back arching as electric pleasure rolled through your body like a tidal wave. “You are an enchantress that has locked me in your spell, do you not see how much I desire you? How much I crave you?” Harsh kisses were pressed against your lips, and your tongue was instantly busied by Morpheus’s as he kissed the oxygen from your lungs. Your hand dragged through his scalp to cup the side of his face. You had to break the voracious lip lock to suck in much-needed air and while you did so silver eyes seared into yours. “I have never wanted anything in my entire existent as I want you.”

You would have flushed if you weren’t already drowning in heat, but your walls did constrict around Morpheus’s cock. He smirked at you as your noses brushed together. Morpheus knew that he was bringing your body close to ultimate pleasure, he could feel it boiling beneath your skin, threatening to take over. You always looked so lovely blissed out when he brought you to an orgasm and he knew that this one would be no different.

“Come for me my queen,” Morpheus demanded, pressing his forehead against yours as you dug your fingernails into the hardwood beneath your body. You let out a tormented moan, your thighs quivering under hand. “Revel in the pleasure I bring you, show me how you were sculpted to perfection just for me, show your king your devotion to your marital duty.” Your body did as commanded, arching and twisting in ultimate pleasure.

The mewling keen that poured from your mouth as you came hard around his cock was loud enough to echo through the library. Even the palace shuddered as you became undone with a gush. Morpheus himself shuddered, basking in your ecstasy and growling out his pleasure. His seed filled your cunt, filling you with all his desires and wants in one virile action that left you twitching. You whimpered in his arms, your face burrowing to his neck as you weakly grasped onto him. Morpheus placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. He kissed you slowly, repeatedly, enjoying the softness of your lips and the taste of your mouth. You were his ecstasy.

Date Published: 12/21/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix

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alittlepunkrock · 2 years

Text

where you go (i will go) - part iv

Summary: A visit to the Dreaming brings about new revelations and confrontations.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!reader

Words: 5.5k+

AN: See end of chapter.

series masterlist // ao3

. . .

“I flew solo most of the way,

Until you popped up and got in the way;

And I mean that line in a good way.”

- hazel inside, blackbear

. . .

part iv

“Let go,” he growls, pressing down on your throat harder. The hot tears clouding your vision are growing dark and blurry, the room around you dimming in spite of the smoldering fire beside you. You blink, trying to clear them away, but they don’t leave this time around. They persist, crawling inward, inching over your sight. The anxiety in your chest rises to a new pitch. You feel your body try to hyperventilate, only to choke on the emptiness in your lungs.

Something at the edge of your awareness calls to you, encourages you to do as he says and just let go. The rest of you bucks and rebels against it, fighting tooth and nail to hold on. Even in this moment, in spite of all that’s happening, you’re not ready to go. Not ready to leave him. You had so much to look forward to, so many plans. So much love to give. You were ready to give him it all. It was all happening tomorrow.

The chaos in your chest reaches a fever pitch. Your heart hollows out at the thought that there will be no tomorrow for you.

As darkness envelopes what’s left of your vision, you feel his hot breath on your face one last time. “I don’t want you anymore.”

. . .

When mortals think of heartbreak, their minds typically turn to thoughts of star-crossed lovers, of loved ones lost, of relationships ended on bitter terms. As you creep through the small motel room you’ve found yourself in, tip-toeing around empty liquor bottles and haphazardly tossed cigarette butts toward the sleeping figure in front of you, you understand that heartbreak comes in many forms. You see it in the way the man sleeps slumped over in his chair, his hair unkempt, skin pale and sweaty, face covered in a gritty stubble. You feel the heartbreak in the way his fingers twitch for drink, seeking the comfort of a glass bottle even in slumber. Heartbreak is the fact that he sits in this dark motel room alone, though you can see a picture of himself, a kind-faced woman, and two young boys glowing on his phone’s lock screen. They looked happy.

Your eyes settle on the withering white, red, green, and orange attachments trailing from his heart, across the litter-strewn floor, under the motel door, and out into the night. A pale halo of blue philautia stutters around him. The solid black thread pulsing out of his chest is darker than all the shadows in the room.

Your heart sours at the sight. Ever since your assignments had been dropped at your door at midnight, you’d been flitting across the globe, trying to finish your daily duties before sunrise. Today was the day Matthew was to take you to see Morpheus in the Dreaming, and you wanted to be ready for him. The sight of the black attachment makes you all the more eager for your visit with the Dream Lord.

“Come here,” you whisper as you take the pale philia, eros, storge, and pragma threads in your hands. You hold them gently as you take a moment to ponder your choice of action. “When you wake, call your wife and sons. Be honest with them. Your wife has already found the help you need, but she’s waiting for you to love yourself enough to take it.” You pause, wetting your dry lips. Your fingers shift to trail over the weak glow of philautia surrounding him. “You may not feel you’re worthy of love. I know. But you are. You don’t have to do this alone. Accept the love they have for you. Let it sow the seed for you to love yourself again.”

As your voice trails away, the rainbow of attachments solidify and shine. The black thread remains, but seems less daunting when surrounded by a halo of radiant colors. You smile softly, pleased with your work. In the back of your mind, though, you fear it won’t be enough. What if Desire’s attachment overcomes what you’ve done?

Staring at the black thread before you, an unsettling air creeps through the room. The back of your neck prickles, hairs rising as you get the eerily distinct feeling that you and the mortal are not alone. That you’re being watched.

You spin around hastily, eyes sweeping the shadows of the room. But nothing, or no one, is there. You jump slightly at a low rumble arising beside you, only to exhale in relief when you realize the man has begun to snore quietly. With a shake of your head, you glance over the room again. Though no one else is here, you still can’t deny what your body is feeling. The sense that something is wrong.

With a run of your fingertips over the next set of names on your list, you slip into a new part of the world. The sensation slips away with it.

. . .

“Hey, uh, Lady Love? It’s me, Matthew. Remember, the talking raven? Can you let me in, please?”

“Matthew!” you exclaim with a grin. At the sound of his sharp beak tapping on your kitchen window, you toss your fantasy novel aside and jump out of your chair. Always eager to be part of the action, Theo slips between your feet as you hustle to the window. With an appropriate “Oh shit–,” you stumble forward, narrowly catching yourself on the kitchen window sill. Matthew’s large, dark eyes blink at you in surprise. With a laugh, you open the window, righting yourself as the messenger raven steps inside. “Sorry about that. Guess I should have left the window open for you, shouldn’t I?”

Matthew ruffles his feathers, stretching his wings after the long journey. You note that a new pouch of sand is tied to his leg. “Oh no, you’re fine. Honestly, I’m just glad you were awake. I told the boss– or, uh, Lord Morpheus that you might still be resting. It’s pretty early.”

Your eyes slide over to the clock on your stove, noting the time there. He’s right – it’s just barely past six in the morning, but you’d been up for hours. You were sure you’d never finished your daily assignments as fast as you had today. And without coffee, no less. It really was a shame Cliff didn’t open until seven.

As you finish setting up Theo’s food, water, and toys for the day, you make idle conversation. “So, ‘Dream?’ ‘Boss?’ That’s some friendly language. You and Dream Lord must be pretty close.”

Matthew’s dark beak inclines slightly, his inky chest feathers fluffing with pride. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, like I said, I’m basically his best friend. Besides Loosh. Funny, when I first came along, he didn’t even want me around.”

You give Matthew a friendly grin as you finish lacing your canvas sneakers. ‘“Sometimes the people we don’t expect to need are the ones who become the most important to us.”

Matthew seems to cock his feathered head in contemplation. You extend your arm to him, and he hops on with a flutter. “Huh. You know, I like that. That’s pretty good. The next time he tells me he can handle something himself, I’ll be sure to use that one.” Your laugh rings through your quiet townhome, and Matthew ruffles his wings appreciatively. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’d be lying if you said that your trip to the Dreaming wasn’t all you’d been thinking of for the past two days. Not only were you eager to get onto your partnership with the Dream Lord for the sake of your Realm, you were incredibly curious to see his work crafting dreams and nightmares. How did one create something so intimate, so unique to each individual, so limitless? Maybe you’d end the day with a better idea of what was going on in that tousled head of his.

“Alright, then. Matthew, Grand Messenger Raven of Dream of the Endless, first class provider of transportation, at your service.” With a caw, Matthew dips his head and snips the sand pouch on his leg with a flourish. Sand spills to your feet, settling for only a moment before it jumps to life. The vortex that forms around you is becoming more familiar, the fierce winds that whip around you less startling than your first go around. In spite of this, you still find yourself closing your eyes when the sand starts to skim your cheeks.

When the winds have died and you hear the sand whisper against the floor, you open your eyes to find yourself in the Library of Dreams. Though you’ve seen it before, its majesty is not lost on you. A slow smile warms your face as you turn in a slow circle, drinking in the sight. “This place is incredible,” you murmur.

Matthew hops from your arm to perch on a tall stack of books sitting on one of the tables. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty awesome if you like books and all. Which, by the look on your face, I’m guessing you do. I wasn’t much of a reader in my life as a human, but I’m gaining a better appreciation for them now,” Matthew says. Though his face gives nothing away, you can hear the grin in his voice. The sound of soft footsteps sound behind you, and Matthew’s attention flicks that way. “Hey, Loosh!”

You spin to find Lucienne emerging from one of the breaks in bookshelves behind you. Each room is filled with so many books that the spaces between the shelves are almost camouflaged. Her dark eyes smile as they land on you. “Ah, Miss Love. Welcome back to the Dreaming.” Her dark lips pull upwards, her expression open and kind. “I trust your journey went smoothly?”

“Oh, yes. Matthew is an excellent escort. And I’m getting used to all the sand.”

“I’m quite glad to hear that. Such an acclimation will serve you well here.” You chuckle softly, watching as she places a fresh stack of books on the table beside you. “Lord Morpheus is attending to some business with Mervyn, the palace’s custodian. One of our resident dreams, Fashion Thing, appears to have spilled a blood and perrier cocktail in the main hall. Quite the mess.” She shakes her head tenderly, obviously amused. “He should be finished shortly. Perhaps you’d like to peruse my library in the meantime?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Oh, absolutely.” Lucienne smiles widely, a glimpse of bright white teeth peeking through her lips. “Matthew, please inform Lord Morpheus of Miss Love’s arrival,” she requests. At her instruction, Matthew caws a, “Yes, ma’am!” and takes flight toward the colossal stained-glass doors at the end of the long hall. Meanwhile, Lucienne beckons you farther into the library, away from the throne room.

“As I informed you at your last visit, this is the Library of Dreams. The dreams and events of every human life reside here, as well as the stories they invent, published and unpublished,” Lucienne explains, her bespectacled eyes drifting over the bookshelves with adoration. “I am the keeper of them all. The entire library is organized by century and alphabetically by last name. It makes it quite easy for myself, Lord Morpheus, and any other guest to find whatever record they like.”

You nod, lips parted in awe as your gaze moves from the stories of floors above you to the long bookshelf beside you. At the top of the shelf, you find an iron signpost reading “1500s - S.” Within moments, your eyes land on the book you’re looking for, the name embossed on the thick spine in gold lettering: William Shakespeare. “Shakespeare,” you murmur, fingers slipping the book from its shelf and thumbing through the pages. “Now, this guy and I have been through some times together. He made my job easy in some ways.” You laugh, eyes drifting over the countless thoughts, stories, and dreams recorded in Shakespeare’s book. “And maybe harder in some others.”

“Oh, yes. Lord Morpheus paid a special visit to Shakespeare in his youth, inspiring two plays in particular. Lord Morpheus has been instrumental in the inspiration and success of playwrights, composers, writers, and other dreamers all throughout history.”

A small smile graces your lips as your fingers close Shakespeare’s record gently. Your mind ponders all the artists that you yourself have encountered throughout the years, so many of them inspired by love, both reciprocated and unrequited. Bach, Mozart, Austen, Goethe, and so many more. Perhaps you and the Dream Lord’s paths had crossed more times throughout history than you’d thought.

“As I said, Miss Love, my library holds all records of mortals from the dawn of time. Perhaps you should like to take a trip down memory lane with your own volu–”

“No.” The exclamation is out of your mouth before you can reign it back in. Your eyes snap to Lucienne, register the surprised look on her face. You hastily try to stamp down the rising panic in your chest, to smooth your strained expression into something more neutral. A weak laugh escapes you as you try to play off the outburst. “Ah, sorry, Lucienne, but that won’t be necessary. It’s impossible, in fact. I don’t recall my mortal name. I don’t recall anything about my mortal life, really. I lost all of that when I became what I am today.”

Liar.

Lucienne’s face softens, her dark eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, Miss Love, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean to overstep–”

You raise your hands hastily, shaking your head. You can’t deny the guilt that gnaws at your heart in the wake of your dishonesty, but you press onward. “No, please don’t apologize. There’s really no need. You didn’t know.”

Just as you’re trying to find some avenue of conversation to change the subject, the towering doors to the throne room slowly creek open. Your attention turns, grasping the distraction like a lifeline. With Matthew perched on one cloaked shoulder, Morpheus sweeps through the doorway, walking past the many reading tables to approach you and Lucienne. As he draws nearer, you can’t help but notice the same distinct feeling you did during your first visit to the Dreaming. A hum against your skin, a whisper in the air, a pull in your chest. Having seen him in the Waking World and the Realm of Attachment now, you realize just how potent his presence is in the Dreaming. Some distant part of your mind absentmindedly wonders if you give off a similar presence in your own Realm.

When he comes to a stop a few steps away, Morpheus dips his head slightly in a polite welcome. “Greetings, Love, Deity of the Realm of Attachment,” he murmurs, his voice a rumbling timber in the expansive library. He lifts his head, blue eyes catching yours. “I trust that Lucienne made for excellent company while you waited.”

You nod earnestly, smiling brightly at Lucienne. Though she returns the gesture, you can still glimpse a lingering apology in her eyes. “Yes, thank you. Lucienne was just showing me around her library. It’s extraordinary.”

“Indeed.” With a gesture of his hand, Matthew lifts off Morpheus’s shoulder to land on a lamp by Lucienne. The Dream Lord takes a step closer to you, his long cloak sweeping the floor near your sneakers. “I regret to interrupt your exploration of the library, but we have much to accomplish before dark. It is time for us to go.”

“Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Today, when you catch a glimmer in his eye, you’re not so sure it’s simply a trick of the light. “We shall take a shortcut today,” he says. In a flourish, he grabs the long tail of his black cloak and sweeps it over the two of you. As the fabric flutters around you, a gasp passes over your lips. Because you were right the other day - within the Dream Lord’s cloak lives an endless expanse of cosmos. Stars twinkle all around you in the midst of deep navy, a particularly dark ripple of space snaking through the sky above you. The Milky Way. The constellations glimmering around you feel close enough to touch.

Just as quickly as you found yourself in the midst of a night sky, you find yourself exiting it. As Morpheus’s cloak ripples around you, sunlight pierces through the darkness. When the night scene is swept away, you find yourself standing on the black sandy beaches of the Dreaming. The sky of Dream Country, so bright and blue during your last visit, is softer today. The sun peeks through the thinly overcast sky, casting the clouds in muted shades of warm gold. A gentle breeze slips over the waters surrounding the Dreaming, carrying the refreshing scent of saltwater to your nose.

“This is where you go to craft dreams and nightmares?” you ask, following Morpheus’s dark form as he leads you toward the shoreline. As you approach the water, the black sand becomes speckled with dark beachrock. Its surface is slick and uneven under your canvas sneakers, and you pointedly step around the rocks to keep from falling.

“It is.” Morpheus comes to a stop just before the sand transitions into beachrock entirely. You halt beside him. The waves lap up onto the shore, nearly close enough to lick the tips of your shoes. A glance downward reveals small shells in a variety of hues nestled into the nooks where the sand meets the beachrock, tiny flecks of color amidst the dark. A tan sand crab scuttles out of a pit in the rock, hustling up the beach toward the sand. You smile at the sight. “The solitude permits me to think uninterrupted, and I find that the vastness of the ocean puts me in a productive headspace for crafting.”

You nod thoughtfully as your eyes survey the waters. He’s right – standing here on the edge of everything, anything seems possible. “So, how do you start?”

The Dream Lord remains silent for a moment, his blue eyes trained on the shifting waves before you. Then, he murmurs, “It all starts with an idea.”

You consider making some kind of teasing quip, an “of course it does,” but pause. Instead, you say, “Tell me more.”

Morpheus tucks his chin between the lapels of his cloak, closing his eyes in contemplation. When he speaks, it’s with the voice of something ancient, a tradesman with eons of experience, a master of his craft. An Endless. “It all starts with an idea. What does humanity require? What may the Dreaming offer them? What shall prompt them to thrive, what shall prompt them to learn? Dreams are meant to bestow joy, fantasy, inspiration, and hope. They are a reprieve from the Waking World, a safe haven where weary humans find rest. Nightmares, too, are meant to serve humanity. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.”

You nod, soaking in this information thoughtfully. The idea that nightmares were meant to serve humanity rather than frighten them was something you had never considered before. “Do you create dreams and nightmares for each individual mortal?” you ask.

“On occasion. To do so for each individual human would require a considerable amount of time. More often, I craft a dream or nightmare with a particular function. To take a dreamer back to their childhood, to allow them to fulfill a fantasy…then, my creation may go to the dreamers and fulfill their function whilst tailoring it to that human’s lived experience.”

You mull over his explanation in silence for several minutes. As a deity whose work involves visiting each mortal individually, albeit not every day, you understand firsthand how time-consuming that can be. “Okay, so we’re creating a dream with a blanket purpose that can be individualized to different dreamers. What are you thinking?”

Morpheus raises his head. As a sea breeze ruffles his dark feather-like hair, he opens his eyes and turns to you. “You walk amongst humans daily. I should like your thoughts on the matter. What do you believe would bring them joy, reprieve?”

You blink, surprised. You had expected to be more of a passive observer today than an active participant in Morpheus’s work. Your mind quickly turns to the man from this morning. Fingers twitching for drink in his restless sleep. His family, his joy, ripped away by a vice. He must feel so alone. “Freedom,” you say. “Freedom from the vices and burdens that feed upon them. That impair their ability to be happy.”

“Freedom.” The word sounds foreign on Morpheus’s tongue. “Intriguing. I spoke with someone very recently who wished for the same thing.”

“Did they get it?”

“One might say so. Though not in the way he expected.” Morpheus dips his hand into his cloak pocket, procuring a palmful of sand. “But we shall give the humans what they desire. Freedom.”

He sweeps his arm outward, scattering sand all around you. Rather than dropping to the beach, the sands dance through the air, shifting and shimmering. The world beyond them blurs like a mirage. You blink quickly, disoriented. When you open your eyes, you are no longer standing on the beach. Instead, you’re standing in the center of a lush, rolling meadow in full bloom. Wildflowers form a sea around you, each color of the rainbow represented in a speckled tapestry. The grass stretches as far as you can see, and an endless blue sky yawns above your head. It’s beautiful.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind whips around you, sending your hair flying in all directions. It whirls around you again and again, giving you only a moment’s reprieve before it spins around you a final time. When it does, it spirals with enough gusto to lift you off your feet. Your laughter is bright and joyful as it rings over the field. Though the wind is a fantastical creature, you don’t find yourself startled or frightened. As it suspends you in the air and twirls you around, it seems almost playful.

At your side, Morpheus seems untouched by the childlike breeze. He lifts one pale hand slowly, palm facing upward. The very air around you seems to hum with life. “Freedom. A world without limitations, without burdens. Where one can feel weightless.” He closes his hand into a fist, then unfurls his fingers and guides his palm outward. Slowly, the scene around you shimmers and shifts. The glimmering sands around you follow Morpheus’s command to drift forward. They dance along his arm, around his fingers, gathering into a humanoid shape in front of you. The soles of your shoes gently return to the ground, burying themselves in beach sand once again as the meadow fades away.

A quiet gasp escapes you as you gaze at the dream taking shape before you. A collection of grass blades and petals flitting around on an invisible breeze, confined in a humanoid shape. You can see dandelion pappus gathering in two curved lines on the being’s face like fair eyelashes resting against a cheek. Chinese silver grass fans down its back like hair. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

“It will be some time before she comes to,” Morpheus says at your side. His blue eyes sweep over his creation, giving rapt attention to each detail. For the first time since you met him, there is a glimpse of gentleness on his normally stoic face. “Even dreams require rest.” After a few quiet minutes, he turns to you. “Do you have questions?”

Questions? What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course you had questions. Your brain feels like a shaken beehive; all chaotic, curious energy with no sense of direction. There is so much that you want to know. The only coherent thought you’re able to form is, “You spend so much time inspiring others. What inspires you?”

Your question gives the Dream Lord pause. He looks down at you in silence. It suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, no one has ever asked him that question before. What inspires the one who spends all his time inspiring others?

After a long moment, Morpheus turns his gaze back to the dream in front of you. Delicate chaparral currant blooms have gathered to form soft pink lips on her gradually evolving face. “I came into existence with the first being that required rest,” he murmurs quietly. “I understand that without them, I would not have become, and cannot be. One day, when my sister brings this world to its conclusion and rest is no more, I, too, will be no more. Some of my siblings – Desire, Despair – feel that their purpose is to be served while we exist. I recognize that my function is to serve. But although I am Endless, I cannot simply do as I please. The universe craves balance, requires it. As you have a set of scales, I have my own, in a way.” He pauses, pink lips pursing. “There cannot be fantasy without fear. But I have found that both fantasy and fear alike have the capability to transform.”

Your mind races, turning his words over again and again, reading the lines between his sentences. “They gave you your life and function,” you whisper quietly. Your eyes search his face for some vulnerability, some emotion, but find none. “You want to return that gift. You want to serve them by helping them reach their potential.” His lack of response is an answer in its own way.

The two of you stand on the beach in silence for some time, lost in thought. When you finally speak again, the dream before you has sprouted two cirrus cloud wings. “So, what’s next? A nightmare?”

Morpheus gradually draws out of his reverie. “Yes,” he says slowly, voice low. “You were once human. Tell me, what do you fear?”

Though his voice is soft, the question rings loudly in your ears. Your head thrums with the pounding of your heartbeat as you turn your eye inward. Looking within yourself is something you strive not to do, self-reflection something you have pointedly ignored ever since . . . well, ever since everything happened. You had tried, of course, to ask yourself in the aftermath: Why? What could I have done differently? Pain was the only response that had echoed from the depths within you. A solitary existence was, in a way, both the cure and the contagion. Loneliness served as both a coat of armor and an endless provocation to look inward, only to find that which you did not want to see.

Your mind turns to Desire’s opposition, your conditional divinity, all that happened eons ago. You know he expects an answer. You know precisely the one to give. It feels as if there is a vice grip around your throat as you choke out, “Not being enough.”

For several long moments, the Dream Lord is incredibly still. Then, in silence, he raises one hand ever so slightly. The black grains of sand at your feet start to sway and shift, pulling away from you as if answering a silent call. You watch with bated breath as they gather slowly, building upwards into two feet, two legs, a torso, two arms, a face. At first, it’s merely a mask of churning sand. But then, a flash of color – an eye. Your eye.

As you recoil backward, a flash of white teeth gleam through the dark grains before retreating back within them. Other features start to emerge from within the sand; a nose, a cheek, pink lips. Within moments, the being in front of you has transformed its face into a flawless imitation of yours. Something primal within you rears its head in response. The nightmare’s lips draw into a smile, but not a friendly one. There is an unnatural tightness in its lips. This smile is small and cruel.

Morpheus’s words echo in your mind. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.

As you confront your own reflection, you find you only want to run.

. . .

The black sand makes for a soft cushion as you plop down with a long sigh. The beach, teaming throughout the afternoon with dreams and nightmares of all designs and forms, is now empty save for you and the Dream Lord. The dream of freedom that Morpheus created – Fawn, he named her – was the last to depart several minutes ago. Her cirrus cloud wings cut through the night sky like shooting stars as she flew away, off to deliver feelings of giddy weightlessness to the Waking World.

As you peer up at the twinkling blanket of stars above, you can’t help but wish that you’d meet her in your own rest tonight. That you could ride on her playful coattails, soaring through an endless field of green without a care in the world. But dreams and nightmares were not for immortal beings. No, you know what awaits you in your dreamless unconscious tonight. It makes you reluctant to return home, yearning to stay out just a little longer.

Despite your lack of need for sleep, you can’t deny that you do need to rest. A distinct cloud of mental fatigue hangs over your brain after the long day. You turn to Morpheus, who stands still beside you, staring up at the stars. “I can’t imagine being responsible for the dreams and nightmares of all mortals. Not just giving them a place to rest or grow, but crafting ideas to inspire them and help them progress as a society. Spurring the world on through artists, engineers, inventors . . . all of it. It must be incredibly taxing, especially after so many eons.”

Morpheus’s gaze tracks the path of a shooting star streaking overhead. The inky sky is reflected in his eyes, two pools of black with a glimmering star in each. “My function goes beyond dreams and nightmares,” he murmurs. He speaks purposefully, thoughtfully, handling his words with the same care with which he crafts dreams and nightmares. “I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Such a function requires laws, boundaries, structure. To have one being preside over something so incomprehensible without these would result in nothing but chaos. It is a responsibility of considerable weight. One I am well-accustomed to bearing.”

You study him in silence. You can appreciate his dedication to his rules, his structure. You had your own to follow, and you had seen what happened when the boundaries of duties were overstepped, when power was taken advantage of. Rules provided safety, security. In the midst of a turbulent, ever-changing universe, they were reliable.

As you reflect on the day, you’re surprised to find yourself feeling calm and content. You had expected to feel anxious in Morpheus’s presence, to feel inadequate as a mere deity in the presence of an Endless. You’d expected to feel nervous about your next steps. But as you sit here reflecting, feeling the soft grit of the sand beneath your palms, you find that you’re excited about what’s to come.

“Well, perhaps I can help remove a little of that weight. Just a little bit,” you say with a small smile. With a grunt, you rise to your feet and pat the loose sand off your jeans. “So, when would you like to start this new undertaking of ours? I’m ready anytime.”

Morpheus slowly pulls his eyes away from the stars to look at you. He appraises you in silence for a moment, something you’re becoming quite accustomed to. When he raises his chin ever so slightly, your instinct tells you to anticipate a challenge. “Why not tonight?” he asks.

You return the gesture, offering him a bright grin. Grateful for an excuse to not go home yet. To avoid rest for just a little longer. “Why not?” you say. You sweep an arm outward, gaze drifting over the beach, the mountains, the ocean beside you. “Where do you want to start?”

“No, here will not suffice.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “For an undertaking such as this, we shall require a concentrated source of power to work from. For this, we must travel to the location where the veil between the Waking World and the Dreaming is at its thinnest.”

You nod slowly in understanding. “Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Morpheus’s boots whisper through the dark sands as he steps closer. For the second time today, he sweeps the long tail of his cloak over the two of you.

And in the blink of an eye, you’re gone.

. . .

AN: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for the kind words about parts i-iii. I am truly blown away by all your sweet, encouraging comments. I officially have the entire story mapped out, and we’re looking at a good fifteen to twenty chapters. I am so excited to have you all along on this ride with me and hope you come to love this story as much as I do!

I did want to let you all know that I am having some major issues with my Tumblr account. My posts aren’t showing up in tags, and I’m unable to message anyone or reply to any comments. Obviously, that’s causing a lot of problems, plus it means I can’t message those on the update list about new chapters. I sent a ticket to Tumblr several days ago, but haven’t heard back. I’m hopeful that this issue will get resolved soon, but if it doesn’t, I’m likely going to begin posting this story on my second Tumblr, @lilpunkrock. In the meantime, while I’m still trying to get things fixed, it would mean the world to me if you guys would consider reblogging part iv. Since my posts aren’t showing up in tags, reblogs are the only way to spread the mopey dream prince love right now.

Thanks so much for all you support! Love you all!

#dream of the endless #dream #morpheus #the sandman #sandman netflix #netflix sandman #sandman #dream x reader #dream x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x you #morpheus x you #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x fem!reader #fic: where you go (I will go)

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little-diable · 2 years

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God Stood Me Up - Tom Hiddleston (smut)

Yesterday would have been my grandad's birthday and I miss him more than words will ever be able to express. I have quite a strange relationship with death, hence why I felt the need to finally turn him into a being I can find comfort in. I don't really know what this is, all I can say is that it was inspired by "Lights are On" by Tom Rosenthal. Please give this a chance, even though there is a big angst warning. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Death is supposed to collect the reader's soul, but what happens if he falls in love with her? Within a few moments the immortal being finds himself drawn to the young woman that invites him in, to find shelter while the sky is crying for her nearing death.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f), sex with a stranger, religious connotations, death, character death (not in a cruel, descriptive way), angst, no happy end per se

Pairing: Death!Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader (3.5k words)

The smell of rain hung in the air, wrapping itself around the tall man like a memory finding its way back to him. Though no memory of his long life was a happy, comforting one, no, all he knew was pain and sadness. A sober thought the man would struggle with whenever he’d stare at the ones living life to the fullest. His shiny black boots pounded against the ground leading up to her house, another night where he’d get to collect a young soul. Those days and nights were daunting, they’d follow him around for days, not letting go of the one that had been collecting souls for millennia.

All he had to do was call her name, to reach out his hand for her to take - but tonight his soul felt heavier than it should. He’d suffer, that much he was certain of.

The second he saw her, through one of her big windows, he froze in his step. She was gorgeous, a masterpiece only known to the ones fortunate enough. He couldn’t stop watching her, not as he felt his body being pushed forwards, hoping that he’d get the job over and done with, not as he buried his heel in the ground to keep himself from reaching her door.

He wanted to watch her, till time would run out and a new century would come. She was too young to be ripped from this life, too pure to say goodbye to the ones that love her. Not once had he experienced something like this, a feeling those with beating hearts would describe as excitement, admiration and perhaps even love.

The Father above hadn’t crafted him to feel, he hadn’t been created to build a life for himself, no, his only mission was to call those that had lived enough hours of the life offered to them home. Not once had he doubted his mission, the endless nights he’d wander this earth, but now he couldn’t help but curse the One. He wanted to live a life like those with a beating heart, he wanted to be loved and to appreciate every fraction of time. A dream he’d never be able to turn real.

He stared at the notebook in his hands, (y/n) - what a beautiful name. He tested it on his tongue, silently whispering it - though not loud enough for her to hear. Perhaps he could rip her page from the book, perhaps he would manage to hide her from His knowing eyes - just this once. But there was no escaping Him, He would always catch up with the ones working their hours for him.

(Y/n) was talking on the phone to one of her friends as her eyes caught sight of the man standing outside her door. And for a moment she froze, wondering why he was standing in the cold, with rain pouring from the sky as if the clouds above were crying. The sane half of her brain asked her to close the curtains - he could be dangerous after all - but the other half begged her to open her door, to ask if he needed help.

And so she hung up her phone, following the pull she felt inside her chest, not knowing that she would never speak to her friend again. Not in this life. She didn’t feel scared, felt an awfully comforting sensation swap through her. The warm sun shining down on her on a summer afternoon wouldn’t manage to heat up her body like this, the tightest embrace from a loved one wouldn’t manage to calm her down like this very sensation.

“Can I help you?” His bright eyes met hers, she felt all air leaving her lungs, evaporating into the nothingness. The man kept quiet, not replying to (y/n) as she repeated the words, hoping that he’d give in and speak up. “You must be freezing, at least wait under here till the rain passes by.”

Wordlessly he stepped closer, his notebook found its way back into his black suit pocket, hidden from her curious eyes. (Y/n) didn’t move, not as he found his way to her terrace, not as he came to a halt next to her, with his eyes studying her features. He was handsome, more handsome than she’d ever be able to describe with simple words. She had to force herself to stop staring at him, not wanting to creep the soaking wet man out.

“Do you want some tea?” The moment he spoke up, (y/n)’s body started trembling, making her feel as if her soul was saying goodbye to her body. Her heartbeat sped up, roaring in her chest, it was crying her name, begging her to keep on breathing, to run to safety. But (y/n) didn’t pay any attention to the warning, too focused on his soft voice.

“Yes, please. I am sorry for disturbing you, seems like I got lost out there.” She couldn’t tell where he was from, the unfamiliar accent shot heat through her body, not able to pinpoint it. A few chuckles bubbled out of the man as his eyes flickered back to the road leading up to her house, a sound so sweet (y/n) couldn’t help but give in.

“I’ll be right back.” The first roar of thunder echoed through the cold evening as (y/n) disappeared inside her house. It was a warning, the first of a few that would follow, sounds he chose to blindly ignore. He’d savour every moment of this evening, and would forever relish in her company. If all he would get was this evening, he would cling to it with every fraction of his being, he would offer a part of his immortal soul, just to be with the woman he was supposed to call home. A stranger he had fallen in love with within seconds.

“Here, some blankets and a towel. Please, sit.” (Y/n) pointed towards the bench, waiting till the man had sat down. She placed the blankets next to him and left again, only to return shortly after with two cups of hot tea. He had placed a blanket over his thighs - though not before drying his curls and his face - was now opening it wide enough for her to sit down right next to him, cuddled into the comfortable pillows. “I’m (y/n).”

“Tom. Thank you for giving me shelter, (y/n).” It almost pained him to lie, leaving soft cuts on his soul, cuts that wouldn’t heal, a reminder for years to come, a reminder of the moment he fell in love with a stranger. “Are you from around here?”

“I am, grew up in this very house. What about you?” She took a sip of the hot tea, the smile that began to pull on her lips had an addicting effect to it, forcing a smile onto Tom’s thin lips. It took him a moment to reply, trying to search for the right answer, something that wouldn’t give away too much information.

“No, I’m just here to visit some relatives.” (Y/n) didn’t press on, allowing a comfortable silence to wrap itself around them like the blankets that covered their bodies. She couldn’t help but feel like she was talking to a friend, somebody she had known for years on end, somebody she knew everything about. A strange feeling, something she had never experienced before. “Do you believe in God, (y/n)?”

“Uhm,” laughter rumbled through her, what a weird question to ask a stranger. “I don’t. Can’t help but feel like God stood me up.” The second roar of thunder rang in their ears, as if the Father above wanted to call her name, forcing Tom to give in and to take her hand, to lead her home to the one she didn’t believe in. “What about you? Are you religious?”

“I wish I was, but I haven’t found something to believe in, yet.” He was His friend, a companion, though not a follower of the order built by the Father. Tom had never believed in the ways of life He was preaching, had never found trust in the institutions He had built. A lone wanderer, that’s all he ever was and all he ever will be.

“That’s quite sad, isn’t it?” The rain grew heavier with every minute passing by, minutes she wasn’t supposed to live through, minutes the man was gifting her without knowing why. All he knew was that he didn’t want to let go of her nor the feeling simmering inside of him. She was making him feel alive, as if he was one of them. A mere human being with a beating heart and blood flushing through his veins.

“Perhaps, I never thought about it that way. Maybe I will find it one day.” He took a sip of the tea, it was still hot, warmed up by his touch. “I am sorry that was awfully heavy. Tell me more about you, do you always take care of strangers?”

Once again, she couldn’t stop her laugh from rumbling through her, head thrown back to give the sound enough room to echo through the dark evening, “I don’t. I study, I work and I like to read, there’s nothing really exciting about me.”

Tom couldn’t help but wonder why he was supposed to take her, a question he had never asked himself before. He would always follow commands, would always take the souls without questioning his mission. Could it be that He had made a mistake? That He didn’t want to call her home but somebody else close to her?

“Don’t talk yourself down, that sounds quite exciting. What is your favourite read?” Perhaps he’d slow time down while asking her questions that came to mind, questions he’d use to distract himself from the need he felt, the need to kiss her, to taste her on his tongue. Tom had found shelter in numerous beds before, chasing the highs that wouldn’t leave him satisfied in the slightest. But with her it would be different, Tom was sure of it.

“This may sound cheesy, but I have to say Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes I find myself longing for a love like theirs, even though they were just teenagers.” The first bolt of lightning struck the sky, He was growing impatient. Tom didn’t pay any attention to the lights dancing across the sky like heartbeats pumping strength through their veins, he didn’t want to stop staring at her, scared that time would run out before he could appreciate every part of her. “I don’t think I will ever experience love, it feels like my time is running out before I can properly start living my life.”

“I know the feeling,” words he wanted to speak but couldn’t were burning on the tip of his tongue. Nothing would ever be as it once was, she wouldn’t get the chance to love someone the way she wanted to, wouldn’t even hear those lovely three words spoken out loud. Their eyes met, a shift in the air brought them closer, a shift Tom didn’t fight against, even if he should. (Y/n) didn’t give in, something was holding her back, perhaps it was the uncertainty she felt, he was still a stranger after all, but perhaps somebody else was forcing her to stop her body from moving closer.

“Have you ever loved someone, Tom?” By now their cups were empty, but the rain kept pouring, allowing her to relax further in her seat. He wouldn’t leave just yet.

“I have, at least I think so.” It pained him to speak those words, leaving him with a hole inside his chest. He wouldn’t get to experience the love he was oh so desperate for, she would be ripped from his grasp before he could savour their time together.

Heaven help the blind fool who falls in love.

“Come, I’ll make us another cup.” Tom followed her inside, his eyes wandered through the rooms he walked past, slowing down to take in the pictures gracing her walls. Memories her friends and family would cherish once she would leave this life behind.

Her kitchen was dark, no light was alighting the room, a comfort both were desperately seeking. They shared no words as (y/n) filled her kettle, no words were spoken as Tom moved closer, resting in front of her with his piercing eyes finding hers. Only as he cupped her cheek, eyes flickering between hers and her lips, did he dare to speak a soft “can I?”. With the nod of her head, (y/n) allowed him to press his lips against hers, soft at first, testing the waters. He wanted to give her the chance to pull away, but (y/n) stayed close. She had never done this before, had never felt so safe in the presence of a stranger.

Their kiss grew heated, he pressed her against the counter as she parted her lips for his tongue. They fought for victory, wanting to explore every part of one another. She didn’t stop his hands from wandering, didn’t stop him from placing her on top of her cold counter. All she wanted was to be held by him, the stranger that left her heart racing in anticipation, the stranger her heart was calling out to.

A symphony that would be muted when the first sun rays would alight her then empty home.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Tom’s rough voice shot shudders down her spine, goosebumps rose on her skin, leaving her trembling in his grasp. She didn’t speak up, didn’t tell him to stop, all she did was pull him in for another kiss. Skilled fingers helped her out of her sweater, exposing her naked chest to his twinkling eyes.

(Y/n) had always wanted to see the northern lights with her own eyes, nature's finest spectacle, but now as she was getting lost in his pupils, she wondered if wasn’t staring right at them at that very moment. One day she’d make it to a place where she could watch them in their purest form, (y/n) was sure of it. The feeling of his cold hands cupping her naked breasts ripped her out of her state, she moaned against his lips, hoping that he’d keep on touching her all through the night.

“You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful, darling.” He kissed his way down her throat, sucked on her sensitive spot as he squeezed her hardening nubs. Her whimpers urged him on to kiss his way down further, he sucked on her nipples, leaving bite marks here and there. With her hands buried in his hair, (y/n) found herself falling into the rawest state of pleasure, no longer worried about her morals and the ‘what if’s’, all she cared about was him and his touch. “May I?”

He was waiting for her consent, fingertips running along the outlines of her sweatpants. Her nod felt like a bullet piercing through his skin, like fire burning him inside out, he was feeling more alive than he had ever felt before. With her back pressed against the counter top, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, allowing herself to focus all her attention onto his wandering hands. Her sweatpants and panties found their way to the ground, giving Tom enough room to press his lips against her thighs, kissing both of them before he pressed his open mouth against her core.

“I’ll stop if you want me to.” Tom felt the need to give her another way out, not wanting to pressure her. But (y/n) only cried out his name, hoping that his mouth would find its way back to her aching cunt. “So beautiful, I wish I could stay here forever.” Tom never wanted this to end, he’d give up his immortality if it meant living with (y/n) till the end of this life.

She needed something to hold onto, not used to the urgent brushes of his tongue. (Y/n) tugged on his roots, eliciting the sweetest sounds from him. Tom dipped his tongue into her tightness, spreading her walls around the muscle, fuck, he couldn’t wait to fuck her to oblivion.

Once again the sky was roaring their names, hoping that the two would finally stop their charade and follow the calling. A helpless cry the two ignored as if they couldn’t hear the loud growling sounds.

“Fuck, Tom. Feels so good, ‘m close.” She wasn’t ashamed about her nearing orgasm, wasn’t ashamed that she’d give in so soon. All she needed was to feel the high that would momentarily robb her lungs of the air she was desperate for. (Y/n) reveld in the feeling of his tongue fucking her and his thumb rubbing her clit, pushing her over the edge with a cry clawing through her.

He allowed her to calm down, to catch her breath before he’d make her drown in her pleasure once again. His aching cock twitched in his grasp, he spat into his palm, pumped his cock a few times before he found himself asking for her consent once again. A question she answered with a breathless “please”.

Tom filled her to the brim, burning walls stretching around his cock as if she had never been fucked before. He fucked her with a kind of urgency he had never felt before, deep down he knew their time together was running out, it would fade into the nothingness, like the soul he’d take from her body.

Their bodies clashed together with every ferocious thrust, forcing them to hold onto one another’s trembling body. Their sounds drowned out the cries the sky produced, purely focused on one another. Tom’s lips found hers, swallowing the sounds that rumbled through their chests.

“So perfect, wish I could forever call you mine.” A wave of sadness thumped through her, it filled her pores, and was sinking into her skin like poison. A poison she didn’t know the antidote for. (Y/n) was seeing stars, so bright and blinding she felt as if she was being reborn, Tom was pushing her into a state of remembrance, allowing her to feel every emotion she has ever felt in her life.

She wanted to beg, beg that nobody would wake her from this state, forever caught in the happiest moments of her life. But time kept rushing past, forcing her to move on with the seconds she’d never be able to live through again. Their orgasms were creeping closer, wrapping them up in its tight embrace, bound together for seconds on end.

“Cum with me, I got you, sweetheart.” (Y/n) came with a cry, she called out his name, threw her head back and allowed her body to live through the purest form of ecstasy. He followed her down the edge, imprinted himself on her walls as he came inside her tightness.

She had to blink a few times, having to calm down before she could find her strength again. And the second she found her way back to reality, she was able to pay attention to the loud thunder, the sound that broke through the barriers her mind had built. Tom pulled out of her with a hiss, but his eyes didn’t let go of her, not as he noticed the tears welling up in them, not as she redressed herself with shaking hands. She felt small, not able to properly breathe as the room started to close in on her.

“Who are you, Tom?” (Y/n) didn’t pay any attention to her slowing down heartbeat, didn’t pay any attention to the burning of her lungs, no longer able to grasp the air she was breathing. The brightness of lightning dancing across the sky momentarily alighted her dark kitchen, it was time.

“I think you know who I am, don’t you?” Tears of his own were glistening on his cheeks as he reached out his hand for her to take. There was no escaping, no way out for her and her young soul, but how she longed to experience more time with him by her side.

“Will it hurt?” Her voice trembled, not able to express the strength she so desperately wanted to feel. She was everything but strong in this very moment, everything but clear headed. A fog was rising in her mind, robbing her of anything she could use to guide her way out of the darkness, forcing her to follow Tom.

“It won’t, not as long as you trust me.” With a nod of her head she took a step closer and another, till she was standing in front of the man that stared at her with love swimming in his pupils.

“Take my hand, (y/n).”

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Text

Burden

Part 4

Part 3 | Part 5

TW: fluff, yall finally get to experience some full happiness which is totally not gonna get ripped away 💀, mutual pining, some slight angst

You looked at the blue stone, tentatively stroking a finger down the smooth shimmering edge. It had been a few years since he'd given it to you... Since Dream of the Endless had shown you a side of him you'd never seen before, had never known existed. You'd been to The Dreaming many times since that night, but you'd never ventured closer to the gate, still afraid that it would remain closed to you and that the whole thing had been nothing more than a long game. So you and Puck sat on the beach, watched the sunrise, and returned to The Forest. You'd done it so many times without a word from Dream that you were almost scared to face him now.

As the days passed you wandered closer and closer to the gate, slowly building up the courage to pass through it until you finally stood right in front of it, looking up. The Corinthian, who'd spent so much time on the beaches waiting for you to come closer had grown rather tired of being patient, groaned beside you, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you in place as the gates began to open. He practically dragged you inside the second there was enough room for the two of you. "Been watching you walk around for years, time to commit Daunt!"

"Corinthian!" You growled as he howled with laughter.

The Gates of Horn and Ivory lay open before you, revealing the bright sun shining off the golden peaks of Dreams palace. Lush green forests and the life of every species natural and imagined filled the space between. It was beautiful. Open and free and bright, the air was clean and the sky was clear. For the first time in a long while you could see the blue of it, the soft puffy clouds that changed shapes above your head, and the birds that flew happily past. The Corinthian squeezed you into his side. "So, how does it feel to be in The Dreaming finally?"

"It's wonderful," you answered with a hidden smile. "Everything is so bright and clear."

He chuckled. "You'll get sick of it eventually."

You shook your head at him. "Never. I've spent far too long in The Forest to ever grow tired of a place like this."

"It's not as free as it looks," he merely said as you walked. "Lots of rules to abide by and never anything fun to do."

"Are you speaking for me or yourself?" You wondered looking up at him with a grin.

"A bit of both I'd like to think."

There was a tenseness in your friend's tone that made your eyebrow rise a bit. "You're just upset that Dream doesn't allow troublemakers to do whatever they please."

He smiled. "You're also a troublemaker, do you plan on following his stifling rules left and right?"

"He is the monarch of this realm," you stated. "And I am a guest. I must abide by his rules if I ever wish to return."

"And do you?"

"Of course." You looked at everything around you with a sigh. "I've been forbidden from entering for so long... It is nice to have somewhere else to go when things in The Forest grow too dark. Besides, if I'm welcome to return I get to see you more often."

The nightmare nodded slowly, his grin remaining but something felt wrong about it. "That is a rather strong argument. Just... Promise me you'll cause a bit of trouble now and then. Don't want you to get boring like everyone else."

Rolling your eyes you nodded. "I promise."

The Corinthian led you through the town, past the hushed whispers of Dreams subjects, and toward the bridge to the palace. Your nervousness returned as you looked up at the magnificent creatures guarding the gate. Puck moved ahead of you, yellow eyes warily watching everything you passed. "Dream will want to see you, likely to waste your time with a tour."

"That would hardly be a waste," you said quietly. "After all I've only seen glimpses of this place."

"Eh, you've probably seen enough to get the picture." He gave you a mocking bow and smirked. "Enjoy your audience with the great king, fair Daunt. If you can slip away, come find me and I'll give you the fun tour."

You chuckled at the nightmare and pressed your hand to his cheek. "Try not to have too much fun without me, dear Corinthian."

He scoffed, laying a hand playfully on his chest. "I could never!"

The throne room looked different than the last time you saw it. The space that had once been full of life and dancing and laughter was now little more than a cold, space that mirrored the Dream you’d known for centuries. The Dream that had been nothing but cold and cruel to you since you could remember and not the one you’d seen that night. White marble glowed beneath the rainbow light from the vast ceiling of stars and galaxies above you as you walked deeper into the silent space. There at the top of the window ding stairs was his throne. It was odd… Not as grand or as large as you'd imagined it to be all these years.

Puck sniffed the ground and plopped down beside you. "I don't like it here. Everything smells different."

"Is it so different from the beach?"

"Yes." Your companion insisted. "Smells like him."

You hummed, giggling softly as you leaned down to scratch behind his ear. "Ahh yes, and we both know how much you detest the smell of the horrid Dream Lord."

"Horrid?" The voice smooth as the finest silks and deep as rolling thunder filled your ears, sending waves of conflicting emotions over you. The throne room felt smaller as you turned your head to gaze upon him. Dream stood between two large pillars, the black of his cloak standing out harshly against the cool stone, flames licking at his feet. Jessamy perched on his shoulder and his hands twisted behind his back as his glowing eyes regarded your companion with a look.

Puck growled lowly, baring his teeth to the dark figure, and curled around your feet slightly. "I would have used a far more insulting choice of words Nightmare King."

"Manners Puck," you chided softly. "We are guests after all."

Dreams eyes lifted to yours, bright and warm… An odd thing where the Endless was concerned. You'd never seen him like this, so calm in your presence and it was terrifying. He bowed his head slightly and gifted you a thin smile. "You look well, Lady Daunt."

Lady. Your mind echoed with the word. He'd called you the formal title before, all those years ago on the pier bathed in starlight. You'd forgotten how it sounded, the honey-sweetened sincerity, the low almost desperate timber of his voice… As if he were pleasing you to believe him, to forgive. Yet the memory of those hands curled around your throat remained. You returned his gesture, stiff, uncertain. "As do you, Dream of the Endless."

A look, swift and fleeting, passed over his face… hurt. He straightened and looked about his throne room. "What do you think of my realm so far?"

"I've seen little of it," you reply. The cosmos swirling above your head once again caught your eyes before you looked to his throne. It reminded you of your place, of how little your words mean to one such as he. "What I have seen is beautiful, as your creations always are."

He hummed, moving silently to stand closer to you, as close as Puck would allow. "High praise from one whose realms beauty rivals that of mine."

You almost laughed at him. The Forest was dark and clouded in mist. Its woods echoed with desperate cries of frustration and sorrow and it bent to none, not even you. "You need not attempt to flatter me."

"I am not." Dream said. "Your realm is beautiful in its own right, in a way I could never recreate… Much like you are."

Your head turned quickly, eyes wide as his words settled against your skin like pinpricks of knives. Was he mocking you? Trying to bait you into some kind of cruel game? Yet there was nothing, save the gentle gleam in his eyes and the thin smile on his lips, nothing that indicated the words were said with malice. So, you cast your eyes away. "Thank you."

Jessamy cawed from her master's shoulder. "What do you want to see first, Lady Daunt? There is much within The Dreaming to see!"

"I don't know."

"Well, surely you've thought about your visit a few times."

You looked to the floor. "I suppose I never thought I'd get to see any of it."

Jessamy made a quiet noise as Dreams dark figure appeared to grow taller. Jessamy shook her silky wings. "Why don't we start here then? The Library is just down the hall. Lucienne will certainly want to see you!"

"That sounds lovely." You lifted your head and looked at Dream, whose face had hardened. "If the Dream Lord permits it."

His brows furrowed and lips pursed. "You may go wherever you wish. I meant what I said, Daunt. My realm is open to you."

You watched him closely, still looking for any sign that his sincerity held any manner of falseness. With a tentative nod, you shifted your feet. "Such a thing is… Generous of you, Dream Lord."

Jessamy looked to her master. "So… The library then?"

Dream gestured down the hall and bowed his head slightly. "After you, Lady Daunt."

He could not stop looking at her. No matter how much he tried to go on normally, everything vibrated with just the knowledge that she was here. She'd taken so long to venture even a little close he thought this day would certainly never come. But, here she was, walking beside him to the library, quiet and timid but here.

You honestly didn't know what to expect on this tour, how willing was Dream to let you into his world? Would your presence be confined to the high walls of his palace as if to hide you from the other creatures he ruled over? Would he expect something in return for this kindness, for the supposed freedom to come when you liked? All thoughts faded as the library doors opened and the literal collection of all written creation lay before you.

The trusted Librarian of The Dreaming, Lucienne, was already waiting at the table. She offered you a bright smile and bowed her head to Dream. "Lord Morpheus, Lady Daunt

“Lucienne,” you said with a smile, “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, my lady.” She returned the smile. “You look well.”

Jessamy perched on the desk, quietly pecking at a book she appeared to be reading. Dream gestured to the tall shelves. “Every book that was is or will be is here. You are welcome to look through my collection."

Your lips twitched into a tiny smile as you admitted, "I've tried before, one time, while you were away. But to me, they're nothing but blank pages."

"I could read one to you."

The pure genuine nature of his offer made you pause. Your wide eyes met his. "You don't have to do that, I'm certain you have better things to do, more important things..."

With a raised hand he stopped you and gestured to the shelves once again. "I would not have offered it if there were more important things that required my attention. Please, pick whichever one you like."

You hesitated but complied nonetheless. You'd tell yourself it was mere curiosity about the books of otherworldly beauty, but the truth of it was far more simple. You enjoyed this newfound calming presence that Dream was offering, as well as his silken voice. He sat down at the head of the long table and watched you as you searched the endless shelves. After a moment you stood on the tips of your toes and plucked one from the group.

Dream seemed to recognize the rich sapphire bindings immediately and smirked to himself. You narrowed your eyes at the sight of it but still set the book down just close enough that he could reach it. "I enjoy the color."

He regarded your words with a simple nod. "It's a beautiful book. Written by a friend of yours, Will Shakespeare I believe he's called now."

You smiled to yourself. "Will, of course. I suppose you had something to do with his sudden inspiration."

"Perhaps."

"What is it called?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream." Dream looked at Puck with amusement. "I think you'd companion will enjoy a character or two."

Pick settled on the floor with an unhappy growl. "Unlikely."

"It sounds sad," you mused, taking a seat one chair away from him near the middle of the table.

"I suppose it can be seen that way," he said, stroking his fingers along glittering letters you couldn't see. "Though many would consider it a comedy."

His eyes met yours as you settled into the chair, but he said nothing more, instead, Dream opened the book and began reading. Hours passed, but his voice remained steady, occasionally glancing up to look at you. The story was beautiful, but his voice was more so and after a while you laid your head down on the table, eyes watching Dream with a speck of wonder. Unbeknownst to you, he continued his reading unhindered but the sight of you remained in his mind.

Eventually, when he looked back up your eyes were closed. If he'd not known better he'd have thought you to be asleep. You looked peaceful, something he'd not seen… Something he'd actively prevented in the past. "Why did you stop?" Your eyes didn't open.

He smiled, just a little. "Apologies, I was lost in thought."

You hummed softly. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"I don't mind, though you seem to have grown less interested."

Your eyes opened slightly as you smiled at him. A real smile, the first he'd ever recieved. "On the contrary, I am very invested. Your voice is beautiful, relaxing."

He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat as he lifted the book to shield his face from your view. "Very well, I'll continue."

You chuckled to yourself. "I'm still listening, I promise."

When you’d asked to visit the brothers and their beloved gargoyle, Dream had been glad to grant the request. He walked beside you the whole way and even remained as the two bickering brothers gave you tours of each of their houses. It was different, being so close to him without hearing a word of insult or complaint. It was… nice. You played with Gregory while Cain and Abel spoke to Dream about some Dreaming matter or another. Gregory was always one of your favorites of Dreams creations, though you could never understand how such a gentle and adorable creature had ever been a nightmare.

You bid them farewell, promising to return for tea as soon as you were able to before falling into step beside Dream as he led the way back toward the village of his creations. "It's odd seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Dream questioned with a side glance your way.

You shook your head and tried your best not to feel the tingling his gaze brought to your skin. "So… Content."

Dreams eyes narrowed, "Content?"

"I don't know how to describe it," you laughed. "You're just… Different."

"I suppose it's not untrue. You've not known me to be very content in our past meetings." He sighed a quiet sound that you weren't entirely sure you'd heard. It appeared as if he wished to speak more, but his lips remained tightly shut as the two of you continued to walk down the wooded path.

When Dream had to step away to deal with something you sat on the bridge and looked out at the gorgeous orange and yellow hues of the setting sun. It was so beautiful here, so different from the mist and darkness you’d grown used to. It was almost too beautiful… like you were just dreaming and would soon have to wake up.

“There she is, the grand Lady Daunt,” a familiar voice teased as The Corinthian leisurely walked across the bridge to stand beside you. “Dream finally let you go free?”

“He’s taking care of some business,” you said, smiling. “I’ve been instructed to wait for him to finish.”

The Corinthian smirked and shook his head. “Still following the rules?”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the sun. “Of course I am. I told you, I want to be able to come back after this visit.”

He huffed. “I guess I won’t pretend to understand why you’re willing to be so buddy-buddy with him.”

“He’s the monarch of this realm, one I have to deal with quite often.” You sighed. “I’m tired, Corinthian. Tired of fighting with him at every turn.”

“Fighting with him is fun though,” your friend insisted, his head turning to look at a dreamer wandering over the bridge, standing just off to the side of you and Corinthian, looking around with his mouth hanging open at the glorious sight of The Dreaming.

You watched him closely as he forced his head to turn back to you. “Fighting with him is tedious, especially when I'm just trying to do my job.”

He shrugged. “But you’re like him, Daunt. Powerful.”

“I’m not an Endless, Corinthian,” you reminded him. “I’m not as powerful as him, nor as, well, endless.”

“You haven’t even tried to be,” he nearly hissed, frustration and anger suddenly filling his voice as his eyes drifted behind you to look at the dreamer again.

The Corinthian turned his head away from you and the dreamer, a scowl setting his lips into a frown. You tilted your head to look around him better, "Are you jealous?"

"Of Dream?" He scoffed. "Never."

"Not of Dream," you clarified glancing at the dazed dreamer. "Of them."

His face softened, a realization overtaking him as he watched the human. "I… I don't…" He turned his head back to face you. "They're accepted for who they are no matter how ugly or terrifying they can be. I… I want that. I want to feel, to experience what they do. To be accepted… Flaws and all."

You touched his cheek with a soft smile. "I accept you, Corinthian just as you are. Beautiful and terrifying and everything in between."

He leaned into your touch with a sigh. "I know you do, Daunt." There was still much restlessness in him, you could feel it, but before you could inquire more he straightened his stance and bowed tipped his hat to you with a tight grin. "Duty calls."

You watched him walk away for a moment, worry building up inside you at his odd behavior as of late, but the loud caw of Jessamy as she flew down to perch beside you shook you from your thoughts. She bowed her small head as Dream slowly made his way toward you, calm and unreadable as he always was. “Is it time I take my leave, Dream Lord?”

He shook his head. “You may stay as long as you wish to, Lady Daunt. Though I have one last location I wish to show you.”

“Very well,” you said, trying to mask your relief that he’d not come to kick you out.

The two of you walked in silence, trees, and hills of wildflowers passing by as you entered a wooded area. It reminded you of The Forest, but what you’d always longed for it to be. Animals darted through the site, butterflies flew from flower to flower and a warm comforting silence filled the space. Here there was no mist, no echoes of haunted dreamers' desperate pleas, nothing save the sound of rushing water as you near a small lake and waterfall. “It’s beautiful here.”

“This is Fiddlers Green,” Dream stated. “The jewel of my realm.”

“And a grand jewel it is, Dream Lord.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at you, the now rising moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his pale skin. “Why do you not call me by my name?”

You’d long heard that Dream had enjoyed being called Morpheus, a name you did not know if he was gifted at the beginning of his life, or later by the humans. “I did not think I was allowed to.”

Dream nodded, his lips pursing. “You are. I… I would prefer you call me my name.”

“If that is your wish, Lord Morpheus.”

A soft smile and a light breath escaped him. “Would you dance with me?”

“Dance?” You asked, taken aback by his request. “There’s no music.”

“An easy thing to remedy.”

With little more than a gesture the meadow filled with soft echoes of music. It was almost surreal, the soft melody was familiar somehow. You blushed a little as you looked at your dirty and tattered gown. “I’m afraid I’m not dressed for a dance with a king.”

He chuckled softly. “Another thing easily remedied.”

The gown that settled against your skin at the King of Dreams will was familiar, the one he’d gifted you for the ball. Your hands slid against the soft fabric as you looked up at him with a tiny smile. “I did not think you would reuse a design. Have you run out of ideas?”

“Perhaps I simply wished to see you in this particular gown again.” He bowed his head a little and lifted his hand toward you. “And share a dance with you as I should have that night.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you took his hand, chills spreading up your arm and down your spine at the cold feel of his silken skin. “I suppose I should grant you such a simple request. You’ve given me a far greater one today.”

As the two of you swept off into a light and gentle dance he said, “I should have gifted it to you long ago.”

“I am simply glad to be here now.” You smiled at him, an action that caused his eyes to fix on your lips.

You didn’t know how long the two of you spent dancing in the beautiful fields of Fiddlers Green, but with each passing moment, the space between you grew smaller and smaller until you were right in front of him, looking up into the sparkling starlit eyes of the Dream Lord. It was so easy getting lost within them, lost within him, that you’d almost not heard the echoes of the dreamers. The two of you shared a breath as the urge to fill the space between your lips grew near unbearable. The echoes grew louder and louder until mist began to fill the fields and the trees began to shift closer together and grow darker. The Forest was calling you home.

“Forgive me,” you whispered. “My realm can be… temperamental at times.”

He looked around with a soft sigh. “So it seems. I’ve… enjoyed our time together, Lady Daunt.”

“As have I, Lord Morpheus.”

“Will you return?”

You smiled, the closeness neither of you had corrected growing almost comfortable. “Do you want me to return?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then I will,” you said softly. “Perhaps next time we can dance again?”

Dream’s smile was something that took you off guard. It was larger, far more noticeable than any of the others he’d given you that day. “I would cherish the chance to dance with you again.”

“Until then,” you pulled away from him, Puck’s glowing eyes waiting for you at the edge of the misty treeline. “Morpheus.”

“Until then, Daunt.”

You and Puck vanished in the trees, reentering your darkened realm with an erratic heartbeat and light flush to your skin. Puck had been inquisitive, asking you questions about what you’d gotten up to while he explored the odd-smelling realm on his own, which only made you blush harder at the memories of such intimate moments you’d shared with the Endless being. As the two of you found the path you nearly gasped at the sight of specks of white lining it.

Flowers. The pathway was lined with small white flowers. You knelt to inspect them, careful not to be too rough with your featherlight touch. “Were these here before we left?”

“I do not believe they were.”

“How did they come to be?” You wondered as lights flickered above your head, shining softly down on the forest floor. You looked up and nearly sobbed at the sight of the tiny insects floating around you, weaving between the trees and lighting the misty forest.

Puck's nose twitched as he sniffed the small creatures cautiously. "What are they?"

"Fireflies," you breathed, lifting your hand to the air, now filled with brilliant twinkling lights.

Your companion chased the insects, eyes bright and darting from one to the next as they blinked in and out of visibility. You smiled fully as a warm laugh bubbled up from your chest and for the first time since the creation of the world The Forest was filled with laughter.

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

Text

The Only One - Part 2: Things Left Unsaid

So the more I write of this, the more evident it becomes that this is going to be much longer than I originally anticipated. I had thought this was going to be a quick three chapter ramble, but um...at the moment it’s looking as though it’ll be closer to like...five chapters? Maybe more? I really should make an outline when I have the time, because otherwise this is going to get really out of hand, but...like...who has the time? Not me lol. Anyway, here’s Part 2. Part 2 is also cross-posted to AO3 here.

Part 1 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here. Part 6 here.

~*~

Weyoun 5 (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: Spoilers in this installment for DS9: S5E19 “Ties Of Blood And Water,” so if you haven’t seen that yet, beware! Also there will be smut in future parts, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Some angst and descriptions of recurring nightmares to start, but it gets a little better. Mentions of casual Dominion brutality, but like...that’s kinda on par for them, so...hopefully that’s to be expected? It’s not described graphically or anything. Feelings. Lots of feelings: the good, the bad, and the questionable.

~*~

Nearly a year had passed since the day the Vorta diplomat had so unceremoniously yet politely turned my world upside down. Not a day had passed where I didn’t remember the terror and helplessness in his eyes as he was removed from existence. Not a day went by where I didn’t wish that I’d been able to help him.

That morning, I jolted awake from a nightmare as I had so many times since that fateful day, gasping for air and trying to convince myself that the dream wasn’t real as I got up to pace my quarters. Violet eyes filled with fear and pleading for my help as one would entreat their gods for mercy...pleas for forgiveness and promises to be a more useful servant had scratched away at my sanity from the dreamworld as they now so often did.

“Computer, what time is it?” I asked in a shaky voice as I wrapped a soft robe around me in some semblance of protection.

“The time is oh six hundred hours,” the automated voice intoned, and I let out a quiet groan. That was the third time this week that I’d been awakened before my alarm. At least this time I’d gotten a whole four hours of sleep. I wasn’t meant to be on duty for another three hours, but I knew from experience that there was no getting back to sleep after one of those nightmares. Walking to the bathroom, I glanced in the mirror and sighed at the thought that I’d look exhausted again today. I really didn’t want to have to endure the looks from the officers in Ops today, but such is life.

I splashed my face with a bit of cool water, took a deep breath, and threw on a clean uniform. A walk would help clear my head. It nearly always did. Wandering the corridors of the old Cardassian station at such an early hour when the residents were only just beginning to wake gave me a feeling of tranquility that I seldom felt elsewhere. I’d never felt such placidity even back when I lived on Earth. Even with the Dominion threat, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

Pausing at one of the viewports on the upper level of the Promenade - my favorite viewport - I leaned against the wall as I took in the familiar sight of thousands of sparkling stars. Letting my mind drift like a piece of space debris, I lost myself for a time in the limitless, endless expanse of the cosmos...in just how small and insignificant my problems were in the grand scheme of things. Distancing myself from my worries like this tended to make them feel less daunting when the time came to confront them, but this time there wouldn’t be a confrontation. There was nothing I could do about what was troubling me. I hadn’t been able to save the one person who had ever known who I was...what I was.

Weyoun could have answered so many of my questions had he survived the mission to destroy the Iconian Gateway. As it was, more questions had popped up in the wake of his demise. When the Defiant had returned to Deep Space Nine, Doctor Bashir had confirmed that I was in fact half-Changeling, with Odo’s own genetic structure as a base for comparison, of course. The Security Chief and I’d had a great many conversations since then. He’d even helped me figure out more about my own abilities as a partial Changeling, coaching me through several humanoid shifts and encouraging me in my practice sessions. I’d been able to hold my altered shapes for a bit longer, depending on the complexity of the form and how much of myself I was altering. The day he’d reluctantly admitted that I was better at noses than he was, I could hear more than a hint of pride in his voice.

“Trouble sleeping, Lieutenant?” A gruff, raspy voice called from my side as I stared into the illuminated darkness outside the station. I didn’t have to turn my head to know that Odo would be giving me an impassive look that he used to try and hide his concern - one that I’d seen before when I’d first told him about my nightmares regarding the Vorta. He was the only one I’d trusted with the full content of the private conversation between Weyoun and myself. I’d told Captain Sisko of my newly-discovered heritage, of course, but that conversation had some elements that I was reluctant to share with my commanding officer. There were some things I only trusted Odo with, like the hug...the horrifying willingness to allow me to take my anger out on him...his admission that the Founders did in fact require that sort of unthinking loyalty and deference from him and his entire race. Without uttering a word, I just nodded my head and crossed my arms loosely around my middle. Odo hummed beside me and fell silent for a moment. I knew him well enough at that point to know he was simply trying to determine what would be best for him to say. “I’m...not very good at this sort of thing, and I know I’ve said this before, but...Weyoun’s death was not your fault. There was nothing you could do. I highly doubt that he would want you to blame yourself.”

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes as he was vaporized, Odo. He was so afraid,” I whispered. “He looked to someone he regarded as the only child of one of his gods and...I let him down.”

“No, you didn’t. There was nothing you could have done. None of us knew that Omet’iklan was going to kill him. Otherwise, I’d have been right there beside you,” he said surprising me into looking at him. “I trust your judgment. If you thought he was worth saving and if you’d been given the chance to do so, I would have supported you wholeheartedly. The Jem’Hadar would have had to go through the both of us to get to that Vorta. But...you weren’t given that chance. I know it’s...difficult, but...it’s time that you try and forgive yourself. It’s been almost a year. You deserve some peace.”

One of his hands rested gently on my shoulder, and I felt a small, rueful smile stretch my lips. Odo might not think he was good at comforting people, but he was wrong. He had a way of cutting straight to the point. Like Major Kira had said many times before, there’s never any pretense with him. Perhaps that was another reason I trusted him so implicitly.

“Thank you, Odo,” I murmured, and he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before suggesting that I accompany him on his morning security rounds. With that welcome distraction, the two of us set off, making quiet conversation in the early morning stillness.

The next couple of days were busy. With the arrival on the station of Major Kira’s almost-father, Tekeny Ghemor, and Gul Dukat showing interest in the man’s deteriorating condition, the atmosphere on the station was one of suspicion. When a Dominion ship arrived at the station carrying Gul Dukat, I was on-duty in Ops. As the ship prepared for docking, the Captain called me into his office. We were still talking when I heard the door to the Captain’s office hiss open behind me. The Captain’s eyes shifted to whoever had just entered, and when he did a double-take, I turned in curiosity at who had caused such a reaction.

At that moment, I wished so desperately that I’d been seated. Gul Dukat was there, but what had stunned both myself and Captain Sisko was the man who’d accompanied him. I felt my breath hitch in my chest as my eyes met the familiar, bright purple irises of a man I’d watched die right in front of me - a man who looked just as surprised at our reunion as I felt.

“Captain Sisko. Thank you for the kind invitation,” Dukat started. “This is one of my Dominion advisors-”

“Weyoun,” I murmured still in shock, and I was vaguely aware of the Gul turning to look at me curiously. Paying him no mind, I took a small, halting step toward the Vorta. “I don’t understand...You died. I-I saw you die.”

“That wasn't me, my dear. At least...not exactly,” Weyoun said with a small smile spreading across his features. “It is an honor to see you again, Founder.”

“‘Founder’? The Lieutenant isn’t a Changeling, she’s just a metamorph,” Dukat said with a scoff, and I gave Weyoun a small smile of my own that I hoped communicated more than I was at liberty to say in front of Dukat. There was so much that needed to be said, but I couldn’t do it here.

“I should go, but...for the record...I really did believe you,” I murmured to the Vorta, and he gave me a slightly surprised, joyful look before nodding his head respectfully as I took my leave of the Captain’s office. I felt Dukat’s eyes follow me out of the room, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on.

I wasn’t about to tell him a damn thing. At the moment, it was all I could do to force myself to slow my pace to a moderate speed-walk on the way to Odo’s office. I felt so many conflicting emotions. I needed to talk with someone about this. Hell, I needed to talk to Weyoun about all this, but at the moment I just needed somebody patient enough to help me untangle my thoughts to the point where I could decipher them.

Odo had been just as surprised as I was when I had nearly talked his ears off about Weyoun’s sudden reappearance. Bless the man, he listened patiently and curiously as I let my thoughts spill out in all their chaotic glory. Asking questions where needed and adding in small comments or noises of acknowledgment where appropriate, Odo managed to corral my thoughts into a more manageable ball of clutter rather than the random yarns of emotion and threads of possibilities unrealized that they had been previously. We’d talked for nearly an hour before he managed to convince me to go back to my quarters and try to relax before I wore a hole in the deck plating of the floor in his office.

I followed his advice, reaching my quarters in almost a daze. When the door hissed closed behind me, I nearly collapsed onto the sofa in the middle of my living space. How does a person apologize to another for not being able to save them? What was I supposed to say? My guilt had been consuming me for nearly a year, and I’d been trying to do as Odo suggested and forgive myself, but...it wasn’t that simple. Nothing worth doing was ever that simple.

After some indeterminable amount of time spent lost in swirling thoughts of over-analysis, my door chime sounded. Reflexively, I called for whoever it was to enter, only looking up when the person paused silently in the doorway in my peripheral vision. I couldn’t disguise the emotions that washed over me when I realized it was Weyoun. A soft, nervous smile spread across his lips, and I couldn’t quite make my mouth work for a moment.

“Forgive me for interrupting your solitude, but may I join you, Lieutenant?” He asked with a hopeful expression. I could do no more than nod my head quietly and gesture to the open seat beside me on the sofa. Looking as tentative as I felt, the Vorta walked slowly over and perched delicately on the cushion facing me. Clearing my throat quietly, my voice came out as a shaky, broken rasp full of emotion.

“What can I do for you, Weyoun?” I asked quietly, and I couldn’t help but feel like this interaction carried some unspoken meaning...some extra weight that felt ready to burst forth from both our chests like a butterfly from its chrysalis.

“‘Do’? Oh no, my dear. I was just hoping that we could talk,” he said, and all at once, the significance hit me. Our interaction in the mess hall of the Defiant. He was mirroring my own words back at me from that day. Something was cracking in my chest.

“Of course. If you wish to talk, then talk we shall,” I said repeating his own words back at him from that day so long ago and drawing a warm, joyful smile to his lips - one that met his eyes even as my own began to brim with unshed tears. My voice came out as a whisper when I forced it to work. “Weyoun...I’m so sorry. If I’d known what Omet’iklan was planning, I’d have never allowed him near you.”

The Vorta looked absolutely bewildered as a few tears finally began sliding down my cheeks, and he took up my hands carefully with his.

“You couldn’t have known. No one could have known, except Omet’iklan. You have no reason to apologize to me,” he said as though it should have been obvious, and perhaps it should have been. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if I die. I’m a Vorta - a clone. As I explained to Captain Sisko after you left his office, the Weyoun on the Defiant was the fourth of my line. I am the fifth.”

His explanation made sense, but...there was something so casually callous about a life being considered expendable. That troubled me deeply. Before I could think better of it, I’d dropped my lips to his wrists, placing a soft kiss on both before looking back up and meeting his astonished gaze.

“But it does matter. Your life does matter, Weyoun. Every second, every breath...all of it matters, no matter what the Founders have told you,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument. The look on his face was adorable as he slowly nodded his head. He was so innocently trying to accept what I was saying that I almost forgot for a split second that it was his own life that he was trying to accept as being non-expendable.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” He asked in a curious, yet slightly suspicious tone. At my look of confusion, he licked his lips quickly and explained. “Everyone has a reason for being kind - usually it’s a desire for something in return. What is it you really want from me?”

I couldn’t disguise the confusion that lanced through me at his question. Had I done something to come across that way to him, or was this behavior so commonplace for him that this suspicion was his knee-jerk reaction to someone being kind to him?

“What are you talking about? I don’t want anything from you, Weyoun. I never have.” I searched his eyes for some form of an answer and was met with something not so surprising. There was vulnerability beneath his suspicion. He was trying to protect himself. “I’m kind to you because you deserve kindness. There’s no ulterior motive. I have no reason to want to manipulate you, and even if I did, I respect you too much to ever try. Like I said on the Defiant, we’re equals, and I intend to treat you as such. I apologize if I’ve ever given the impression that I was only being kind so that I could get things from you. That was never my intention with any of our interactions, nor will it ever be.”

Was that too honest of an answer? Probably, but even as I finished speaking something changed in his expression. There was some slight shame in place of the suspicion from before.

“Forgive me. I should be the one apologizing to you. Being a diplomat working alongside the Cardassians naturally makes one more suspicious than is normal. I forgot to whom I was speaking for a moment,” he murmured as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “I...really did come here to talk, not to accuse you of...unpleasantness.”

I noted that he was still holding my hands in his, and I gave his fingers a gentle squeeze as I smiled at him.

“Of course. I’m always happy to talk with you,” I answered in a quiet, much-too-open tone. “Was there something in particular that you had in mind?”

“You mentioned in the Captain’s office that you believed me, and...well, I couldn’t help but wonder if you’d had your parentage confirmed?” He asked, and I nodded my head. A proud sort of glee trickled over his face, and he looked at me expectantly.

“I had the station’s doctor compare part of my genetic structure with Odo’s, and he was able to confirm that I am half-Changeling. It was pretty big news when it was discovered, but obviously, word hasn’t left the station yet. Otherwise, Dukat would know,” I said, and Weyoun gave a small smirk.

“Your Captain explained it to him once you’d left, and he was rather surprised when I confirmed he was telling the truth. He’s accused me of withholding vital information, but it wasn’t vital that he know who you really are. If...I may ask an impertinent question?” He asked as his tone turned slightly more hesitant. “You needn’t answer if you feel that it’s too personal, but...I’ve been curious ever since my activation.”

“Go right ahead. If I have an answer that I can give to you, I will,” I said wondering what could have plagued him for so long, assuming he was activated not long after the clone preceding him was killed. Weyoun took a steadying breath and looked almost sheepish as he opened his mouth.

“On the Defiant...When I first beamed in with the Jem’Hadar, you changed your eyes to look like mine,” he said, and I nodded my head encouragingly. “May I ask why you did that? Please do not misunderstand, it is an honor to be mimicked in such a manner, but usually circumstances are rather more dire when such an action occurs.”

It was my turn to blush. I knew the answer damn well, but I didn’t know if he’d be offended by it or not.

“I...To tell you the truth, I...was curious,” I admitted. Taking a steadying breath, I continued on in a quiet, slightly embarrassed voice. “Your eyes are so striking...so beautiful. I was so focused on the shape and the shade that I...I’d meant to wait until I was in my quarters to see what it felt like, but...well...”

I trailed off with a sheepish shrug, averting my eyes.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I muttered, and one of Weyoun’s hands lifted up and tilted my chin up.

“You didn’t. I promise. What...What did it feel like?” He asked with curiosity and a hint of reverence in his tone. I was a bit taken aback. Nobody ever asked what it felt like before.

“Oh. I...Sorry, nobody has ever asked what changing feels like before now,” I stammered for a moment trying to gather my thoughts. Weyoun gave me a patient, encouraging nod, and I had a thought. “I...may be able to answer you better, if...Would you mind if I tried again?”

He looked as though I’d just offered him some form of holy sacrament. With a silent nod of his head, Weyoun lowered his hand from beneath my chin. Before it could drop entirely, I caught it in mine and looked up into his eyes. I felt my heart speed up a little as I focused on the shape and color of his eyes. I willed away the natural shade of my irises in favor of the ones so focused on my face. From my own experience watching my transformations in the mirror, I knew the second my eyes began to change in a way that Weyoun could see. He gasped quietly and I tried with all my might not to blink so he’d be able to see the full transformation process.

I’d never showed anyone the full process before, only the before and after. Being this open with the Vorta felt like I was baring a wound to him and just trusting that he wouldn’t pour salt in it.

“I-It feels...” I blushed at how unstable my voice had come out. “It feels new...soft...”

Weyoun’s breathing sped up slightly when I brought his hand to my lips.

“It’s exhilarating,” I breathed, but when I looked back up I found him closer than I’d expected. My own breath stuttered as I searched for the right thing to say, for some other way to describe what the transformation felt like.

“And intimate?” Weyoun asked in a tone that suggested he hadn’t really meant to say it out loud. His face went a slightly darker shade of purple, but I didn’t give him a moment to regret what he’d done. I nodded my head and reached carefully up to cup one of his burning cheeks, feeling my heart clench when he leaned into my touch.

He was so gentle...so beautiful when he was encouraged and safe. Feeling like this about a Dominion ambassador could be dangerous. Slowly, carefully, as though I might shy away, Weyoun leaned forward and touched his forehead to mine. His breath fanned softly against my skin as he spoke so lightly that his words would have been easily carried off in a slight breeze.

“Founders, I missed you.” His voice was rough with emotion as both our eyes fluttered shut.

“I missed you too. I-I thought I’d never see you again...that I’d lost you forever,” I admitted in the same quiet tone he’d used. There was so much more that I needed to say, but my words didn’t feel like they were strong enough. Weightlessly, all I could do was take shaky breath after shaky breath, reveling in the nearness to a man of whom I should be much warier. He worked for the Dominion. I should be distancing myself from him, not wishing I could take away all the pain the Founders had inflicted upon him.

“You’ll never lose me. No matter how many of me are activated, I’ll always find my way back to you,” he muttered, and his words sounded uncomfortably like a confession of something that neither of us could afford given the circumstances. But...I couldn’t deny the effect his statement had on me. Silently, I brought my other hand up so I was cupping both his cheeks in my palms.

“You’ll always have a place with me,” I whispered, and it was his turn to let out a trembling exhale of a breath. A few short moments of silence passed comfortingly before my door chime sounded, startling us out of whatever spell we’d fallen under. Reluctant to move, I lowered my hands carefully to Weyoun’s chest, keeping my touch as light as a feather. “Who is it?”

“An old friend.” I groaned quietly as I recognized the voice. Dukat. Leaning back a bit from Weyoun, I gave him an apologetic look that I hoped said more than I could safely voice at that moment. Lowering my hands from his chest back into his grasp, I gave the Vorta’s fingers a gentle squeeze as I called for him to enter. There was enough distance between us now that we looked like we’d been doing nothing more than having a rather intense discussion as Dukat strode in, arrogance coloring his every step. I remembered just a split second too late that I’d yet to change my eyes back to their normal shape and color. Dukat smirked as he obviously saw the remnants of purple fading from my irises. “So...when do I get a...personal demonstration of your abilities, Lieutenant? If you are servicing the Dominion’s most important members, then you should remember that Cardassia is now a vital part of the Dominion.”

“There’s no need to be crude, Dukat. We were just talking,” Weyoun said with a hint of poison in his tone. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on my hands, and it occurred to me that the Vorta was attempting to protect me.

“The Lieutenant and I used to talk quite often when I was here on the station, but never so...intimately,” Dukat murmured. “We spent months together bonding over Ziyal’s care, and yet you never once sought more. What has the Vorta promised you? Hm? What is he giving you in exchange for your...kindness?”

“Nothing. Good people don’t need a reason or incentive to be kind to others, Dukat. That’s something you’ll never understand,” I answered with a defiant tilt of my chin. The Cardassian let out a raspy, mischievous laugh at my tone, cutting my patience off at the source. “Either tell me what you want or leave. I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” he taunted as he walked slowly over to the sofa where we were seated, stopping only a few feet away. “I came to see for myself if what the Captain and Weyoun told me about your heritage was true.”

“About one of my parents being a Changeling, you mean?” At his nod of confirmation, I gave Weyoun a glance. “Well, it’s true. I didn’t know myself until about a year ago. Now, if that’s all, I’d appreciate it if you’d-”

“Not quite. You see, an ability like that could be quite useful to the Dominion...to Cardassia...to me...” he trailed off with the insinuation, and I felt my stomach turn. “I’m sure you’d like to spend more time with the Ambassador, here, and Cardassia is quite lovely this time of year. You’d have every luxury that your position affords you...”

“Not a chance, Dukat. Now get out of my quarters while I still allow it,” I snarled, and his eyes narrowed.

“Are you threatening the head of the Cardassian government?” He asked in a quiet, dangerous tone.

“No. Just giving some life-saving advice to a man who claims he’s an old friend,” I answered as I reluctantly released Weyoun’s hands and brought myself to my full height. There was no way in hell I was going to allow Dukat to intimidate me in my own quarters. “Now. Get out.”

With a last smirk, the Cardassian gave me a half-bow dripping with sarcasm.

“As you wish...Founder.” Having uttered his sardonic parting jibe, Dukat strode out of my quarters every bit as arrogant as when he entered. I let out a breath that I hadn’t been aware I’d been holding. Trust Dukat to spoil a moment like that so spectacularly. A quiet call of my name from the Vorta still seated on my sofa knocked me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see him looking up at me with concern written across his features.

“Are you alright?” Weyoun asked quietly, and I took my seat again.

“I’m fine. Dukat just takes some sick sort of joy in trying to get under my skin. I’m sorry. I’ll tell the computer not to allow any interruptions in future,” I muttered, regretting that the two of us had gotten so close only for Dukat to trample the moment to dust under his standard-issue Cardassian uniform boots.

“There’s no need to apologize. I know quite well how tactlessly he can behave,” Weyoun commiserated, and with a small, warm smile he looked into my eyes. “Thank you for allowing me to witness something so miraculous and personal. Would you consider having dinner with me tomorrow night, my dear?”

I hated how effortlessly he could make me smile.

“Only if you promise Dukat won’t be invited,” I said with a playful wink so it would be obvious that I was teasing. He let out a surprised laugh and placed a hand gently over one of mine.

“That is easily accomplished. Nothing turns the stomach more than that man droning on and on during the main course about how he was Bajor’s savior,” he said in a conspiratorially low voice, even though there was nobody who could have overheard us. A quiet chuckle escaped me at the mental image of Weyoun’s beautiful eyes rolling in exasperation when Dukat wasn’t looking. “I...I’ve taken up too much of your time tonight as it is. I should let you rest. No doubt it has been a long day, and my reappearance was most likely a shock.”

“A pleasant surprise,” I corrected turning my hand palm up to grasp his. I looked up to his eyes and felt my questions die in my throat. I couldn’t have feelings like this for him. “Thank you for taking the time to come and speak with me.”

“Always, my dear. I look forward to dinner tomorrow,” he said bringing my hand to his lips. I echoed the sentiment, and with a soft smile, Weyoun made his way out of my quarters. With a sigh, I dropped my head into my hands. What the hell was I to make of all this? I’d spent a year mourning a man I barely knew who’d done me the singular kindness of telling me about my father. Now he was alive again...able to answer questions again...and he wasn’t angry at me for not having been able to save him. Not for the first time, I wished this station had a counselor I could talk to. As it was, all I did - all I could ever do - was talk to Odo and spend more time staring out the viewport in my quarters as I contemplated what to do.

When the next night rolled around, I got changed out of my uniform as soon as I got off-duty. Throwing on one of my favorite comfortable yet still presentable outfits, I tried to make myself look a bit more casual than my usual pin-straight, professional, on-duty self. Normally, I was quite a private person, choosing to spend most of my downtime in my quarters or in the company of a select few friends. This - having dinner with a Dominion ambassador-turned friend - was entirely new to me. Was friend the right word? Could it ever be considering how Weyoun’s genetic coding practically forced him to think of me as better than him? I had been thinking about that a lot since the night before. Had his offer of dinner come from his own desire to get to know me, or was it a desire forced on him by the Changelings’ alterations to his DNA? I’d have to be careful. I couldn’t be as casually intimate as I would be with my own friends, because it wasn’t yet clear to me how consent would work with him. If I asked permission to hug him, would he accept because he wanted the hug, or would he accept because he thought it would make me - a being he saw as the child of his gods - happy?

The door chime shook those thoughts away, and as I straightened my outfit one last time, I called for my guest to come in. Taking a small breath, I turned just in time to see Weyoun walking gracefully through my door. The moment his eyes fell on me, he drew a surprised breath. Right, he’d never seen me out of uniform before. He smiled warmly and began a slight bow before stopping himself.

He remembered.

“My apologies. Habits are rather hard to break. I must ask your patience,” he said, and I smiled as I shook my head.

“Don’t apologize. I know from experience how long it can take to break a pattern of behavior that you’re used to. And Weyoun...you’ll always have my patience,” I promised as I walked over to him. A slight purple blush colored his cheeks and he raised one of my hands to his lips.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might like to have dinner together in a more private setting than Quark’s or the Replimat,” he said as he ushered me out of my quarters toward some destination known only to him. We chatted a little on the way, and soon we came across one of the empty conference rooms. Weyoun opened the doors, and when I looked at him in confusion, he just smiled. “I asked Odo for a favor.”

My curiosity got the better of me, and I walked inside. The table was set rather nicely, and there was a tray of various drinks from Quark’s at the side. Trust a diplomat to set up a lovely evening like this. He was used to schmoozing other ambassadors, so why had I expected anything different?

“Weyoun...this is lovely, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” I stammered as I turned to face him. The soft, hopeful look on his face froze me in place as he moved slowly toward me.

“Oh, it was no trouble, I assure you. Do you really like it?” He asked with a tentative smile, and it almost hurt to see just how much he wanted to make me happy. I took his hands carefully in mine and smiled as I looked into his eyes.

“Of course I do, but...all this...is it what you want too? I want you to take your own desires into consideration when we socialize, not just what you think mine might be.” At my words, Weyoun gave my fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I am taking them into account. You told me that you’d rather have my honesty than my devotion, and to be entirely honest with you, this is what I want this evening, as well as what I thought you might want,” he said with a tone of sincerity that I thought - and hoped - was genuine. “I may not know what some of this food is, but Quark assures me they are dishes you’ve ordered before in his establishment. I’ve not had the opportunity to sample many Alpha Quadrant dishes outside Cardassian cuisine.”

“Well, I’m certain we can find something to your liking,” I said with a smile as the two of us took a seat at the table to explore what he’d obtained for us. As we sampled dishes, Weyoun explained that the Vorta hadn’t the ability to taste things as I would perceive it. He could experience textures, but flavors themselves were severely dulled. When he mentioned offhandedly that it was part of how the Founders coded the Vorta, I tried my very best to hide my frustration and indignance on his behalf. It was such a pleasant evening that I didn’t want to ruin it with my philosophical musings about a situation I could do nothing to change. Weyoun must have been able to read some of my conflicting feelings, however, because he gave me a little smile.

“We can taste rippleberries and kava nuts, though. They make excellent snacks and there are some rather complex recipes that the Vorta have developed over the years,” he explained, and that at least made me relax somewhat. They weren’t totally denied food-based pleasure, then. I’d have to find out if there was a way I could get some of each. Perhaps I could find a way to make some Alpha Quadrant style dishes out of them...

Once we’d finished eating and were engaged in conversation, I finally got up the courage to ask something I’d been wondering about since the day we’d first met. Biting my lower lip nervously, I took a deep breath and gave voice to my nagging curiosity.

“Weyoun? I...I know you said the Dominion had followed my father’s trail in the Alpha Quadrant, and...well, I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me about him?” My voice came out shakier than I would have liked. “It’s just that...all my life I’ve thought he was dead. I thought there was no chance I could ever know anything about him because the only one who could have answered my questions was my mother. She died when I was little, so I really have nobody else I could ask.”

Weyoun gave me a look that I couldn’t quite decipher before clearing his throat quietly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know his current whereabouts - I’d have to speak with the Founders about that - but I can tell you what little I know of him if you like?” He offered, and I gave him an encouraging smile and nod of my head. “Very well then. I suppose I should begin with the fact that his name was Meris. Not many Founders choose names, but ones who enjoy spending time both in and out of the Great Link do sometimes make a selection.”

Meris. When the Vorta paused, I almost subconsciously muttered the name, testing the syllables as I processed the information.

“From what I understand, your father had always been rather willing to take risks. He was wise and patient until his curiosity was piqued. Once that happened, he had a one-track mind. He would hunt down his answers with a singular determination. Anyone who stood in his way was done away with.” At that last sentence, I could practically feel my blood freeze in my veins. My eyes widened a bit and I thought I’d misheard him - surely I had, right?

“Wh-What do you mean?” I stammered, and Weyoun looked at me curiously as if he couldn’t understand what had startled me so completely. He tilted his head and his brows furrowed together, but he answered my question nonetheless.

“Well, he was biologically curious. Meris was one of the main reasons that the Vorta cloning process was made possible. Experimental genetics fascinated him, hence his interest in the process which allowed Changelings to have offspring with solids,” he explained and I felt a singular growing horror.

“He...H-He’s the one who started the Vorta cloning?”

“Well, not entirely, but he did make the final breakthrough that made the process possible,” Weyoun said, and even though I wanted so desperately for him to stop - for this all to be an elaborate lie - I knew I had to hear the full story. Not knowing might be easier, but if I were ever to fully comprehend where I came from - what might be lurking in my DNA - I had to make it through this. I had to hear it all. “The cloning would have been entirely useless if future clones retained no memories, so your father managed to create the final step that allowed clones to keep their memories.”

“...And...how exactly did he test his theories?” I was terrified of the answer. There was no way it could be anything ethical.

“Meris activated and...well, de-activated several dozens of clones until he observed successful memory retention,” Weyoun said, and I felt my stomach turn.

“‘De-activated’? Y-You mean he killed them?” My words came out as barely a whisper.

“Well, yes, but they were just clones. There was no harm done,” Weyoun said calmly, and all at once, it became almost impossible to breathe. Before I realized it, I’d pushed out the chair I’d been seated in and paced the length of the room, trying in vain to corral my thoughts into something more manageable. I’d been under no delusions that the Changelings had done some horrible things, but this...I knew somebody would have done it, but my father? I hadn’t been ready for that. Vaguely I was aware of Weyoun calling my name before his hands came to rest on my shoulders. When had he gotten up? His purple eyes bored into mine and he looked visibly worried for me. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be proud to hear of your father’s accomplishments.”

“‘Accomplishments’?” I barely breathed the word. “Weyoun, my father was a murderer. To throw away lives simply to satisfy scientific research...that’s not ethical. That’s not right. Every life is precious and important, and the Vorta’s lives are not any less significant just because they’re clones.”

I hadn’t realized I was crying until Weyoun’s hands moved carefully up to cup my cheeks as his thumbs brushed away my tears. After a moment’s silence, he spoke quietly.

“You really aren’t like the other Founders, you know. You’re gentle...so full of love, even for those whom you will never know,” he sounded deep in thought, as if he hadn’t really meant to speak at all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I forget how unfamiliar you are with the Dominion’s practices and how jarring this all must seem.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said quietly. “But you...Weyoun, you really don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who asked and I suppose I should have been more prepared for an answer that I didn’t want to hear. You were just trying to be helpful.”

I placed my hands over his and forced a smile through the last of my tears. I could hardly believe that my father was responsible for the perception that Vorta’s lives were expendable. What else had he done? Had he taken away their sense of taste? Encoded their unwavering loyalty? Previously I thought I wanted to meet my father if he was still alive, but after Weyoun’s disclosure, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Is there anything I can do to ease your mind?” He asked in a quiet, almost intimate voice as his eyes searched my face for answers I might be unwilling or too afraid to give. It struck me that despite whatever horrors my father and the rest of the Changelings had subjected the Vorta to, Weyoun had still managed to hold onto some sort of kindness. Whether he pitied me, thought kindness would get something out of me, or if it came from the goodness of his heart, Weyoun had shown more consideration and concern for me than anyone in his position would reasonably be expected to. The child of the person who caused so much of his suffering...I deserved his hatred, not his compassion, and yet he still gave it to me seemingly freely.

To be frank, I was in awe of his strength. He endured so much from the beings he thought of as gods, yet he never complained. I had to find some way to fix this or to at least right some of my father’s wrongs. I refused to turn out like him - like the rest of the Changelings. I was so lost in thought that I’d nearly forgotten that Weyoun had asked me a question. Turning my head just far enough that I could press a soft kiss onto his wrist, I heard his breath catch.

“I’ll be alright. That just wasn’t what I was expecting, to be honest. It’s just a bit of an adjustment from assumption to reality.” My words came out quietly, and Weyoun gave me a silent nod. “Thank you for asking me to dinner tonight and for putting up with my rather ill-timed curiosity. I really have enjoyed the time we’ve gotten to spend together.”

“My dear, it has been my pleasure. You make wonderful company. I only wish my stay here could last longer so that I might have the opportunity to spend more time with you.” I couldn’t help but agree with him. I knew that his position within the Dominion meant that he would be headed back to Cardassia as soon as the situation with Ghemor was resolved, but...I wanted so badly for him to stay. As odd as it was, there was something comforting about his presence. He made me feel safe and seen in a way I’d never experienced before.

“Then we’d better make the most of what little time we do have,” I said with a warm smile, and Weyoun looked positively elated.

“Oh, we shall! Make no mistake, there is a multitude of things I’d like to experience on this station before I return to Cardassia. Perhaps you could assist me?” At his question, I agreed readily. I could easily indulge some of his more innocent interests, assuming they didn’t compromise security of course. “Excellent! Simply delightful! Thank you, my dear. Now, it is getting late, and I fear that if I don’t bring you back to your quarters soon, I might be tempted to keep you here all night. May I escort you back to your quarters?”

“Only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want you to worry about it if you’re tired,” I said, and he waved a hand to dismiss my concerns. Offering me his arm, Weyoun gave me a playful little wink. Judging by the blush that heated my cheeks, I was in trouble. He shouldn’t be able to get to me this easily. I continued to muse on that as the Vorta walked me back to my quarters arm-in-arm. This was quite the conundrum. Once we reached my door, the two of us stopped, and I turned to face him.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, my dear,” Weyoun murmured as he brought my hand to his lips as he had at the start of the night. “I hope you sleep well.”

“Thank you. I hope you do, too,” I said with a smile, and all too soon, he was bidding me goodnight with a soft expression on his face and walking gracefully toward his own quarters. There was still so much to say...too much for one visit alone.

#weyoun 5 #weyoun 5 x reader #weyoun x reader #deepspacedukat fic #some angst to start #but it gets happier #kind of

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emmikmil · 2 years

Text

wiaww Day 8

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader

Prompts: Decorations / Dancing / Spices

Warnings: It’s sp soft and I don’t apologize

Word Count: 458

A/N: Very loosely based on a lyric from All Too Well by Taylor Swift. Just without the gaslighting angst from the man. Love to @cyantomatos for the challenge!

You take the steps one at a time, trying to avoid any noise so as to not wake Marcus. It’s late, way too late for you to be awake after the day you;ve had. Moving into a new house is an exciting adventure, especially since you and Marcus are free of small apartments and noisy neighbors. You grab a bottle of water and stand at the kitchen sink, gazing out at the moonlit backyard. The entire house is dark and littered with boxes, but you enjoy the quiet settling of the warm house. It maybe wasn’t the greatest idea to move in right before the holiday season ramped up. The added pressure to get everything sorted is daunting but for now you let your mind wander.

You dream of the garden in the spring, of hosting barbecues in the summer. The possibilities are endless now with room for your friends and family to visit. You miss hearing the stairs creak and seeing Marcus sleepily wander in looking for you. His arms slip around you, head resting on your shoulder as you come back to reality. “What are you doing up, baby?” He starts to sway gently, warm puffs of breath tickling your neck.

“First night here so I'm not used to it. Plus I was thirsty." He hums in acknowledgement and twirls you around to face him. He smiles at your giggle and starts to dance with you. It's nothing more than a slow circle in the moonlit kitchen. He starts to hum a tune and you settle into his arms. Marcus is warm, heat radiating from his sleep shirt even with the cold tiles beneath your feet. You gently kiss by his ear. “Dancing in the middle of the night in our new house is nice.”

Marcus holds you tighter and dips you, his face hovering over you. The dim light sets his face in more shadows but you still see his features, especially his sparkling smile. He pulls you back up and offers you a sweet kiss. “It is nice, isn't it? Our own place, our own rules ’' he nuzzles his nose into yours “It’s perfect.” He's whispering into the air, letting it flow around you as you continue your slow dance.

The swaying motion has lulled you into a sleepy state. You touch his face gently and kiss his jaw. "Ok, let’s try and get some more sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.” Marcus sighs and leads you up the stairs. As you crawl into bed and snuggle with Marcus, he starts to hum again. The gentle sound and vibration against your chest is quick to guide you to sleep, only waking again with the morning light.

**I have not set up any sort of taglist just yet but if you would like to be tagged in this month’s challenge/ other writings please shoot me a message!

#wiaww2021 #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike x gn!reader #Marcus deserves all the domestic bliss ok #emmikmil writes

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feliix · 4 years

Text

Bluff ⇢ PJM (18+)

⇢ Pairing: Jimin x Reader ⇢ Summary: Working at The Big Kahuna with Park Jimin consists of a lot of suggestive flirting with no actions made to follow it up. But after a summer filled with endless amounts of sexual tension, it’s finally time to let things loose. ⇢ Word Count: 3.8k ⇢ Rating: M ⇢ Genre: Smut, PWP, Coworkers to Lovers, a lil bit of fluff ⇢ Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstilulation, dom!jimin, sub!reader ⇢ Banner made by @hobiance ⇢ A/N: thank you @jinterlude for beta reading this and @jinned for hyping me up always ily ily ily ♡ (the end is not edited so sorry rip) ⇢ Written for BHQ’s Bangtan Boardwalk Summer Collab

Working at the Big Kahuna hasn’t always been such a breeze. During the busy season, customers are in and out of here, renting jet-skis, paddle boards, and kayaks alike, all day long.

It's a little blue hut right on the water, a walk-up window that you sit behind overlooking a wooden dock. It’s small inside the hut, just enough room for you and one other person to work a shift, but it’s cozy, and the view is unbeatable, so you don’t really mind. The sandy beach surrounding you holds a plethora of water-sports equipment, ready for rental and just dying to be used at this point.

But now it's late in the season, the weather is cooling down, and fewer people have been showing up. It doesn’t quite matter to you, though. Fewer customers mean less work, and the less there is to do here, the better.

You’d think it’d get boring with nothing to do, but with a coworker like Park Jimin, things are always interesting. To be frank, he’s a flirt. But so are you, which is why working here this summer has been nothing short of a dream.

The flirtatious banter between you goes no further than just innocent teasing. It’s just something to keep you occupied while you get through your shift. Not that you’re complaining, though. If it did ever go somewhere further, you would not be mad about it. He’s hot, and you’re both young and single, so something’s bound to happen. You can cut the lingering sexual tension with a knife, and the longer you’re around each other, the thicker said tension gets.

So far today, there have only been two customers; a dad and his son who came in a few hours ago to rent out a couple of jet skis. When things are slow around here, the two of you seem to match the energy. It takes twice as long to clean up after people leave with twice the amount of energy expected just to complete a simple task. All you want to do is sit on your stool behind the counter and look pretty – nothing more, nothing less.

But even though the customers left over two hours ago, Jimin has yet to clean off the jet-skis. After losing a close match of ‘rock paper scissors’ the daunting task now belongs to him. And even though the equipment probably won’t be used for the rest of the day, it still bothers you that Jimin has been pushing off the task for so long.

All he’s doing is sitting on the stool next to you and messing around on his phone. Every once in awhile, he’ll snap a quick selfie, pushing his hair back with one hand and adjusting his look for the camera. He’s probably Snapchatting another random girl, whatever lucky lady has the pleasure of having his attention for the day. Not that you’re jealous or anything...

“So are you gonna clean those jet-skis or..?” Your voice is passive-aggressive, slightly taunting, and that bothers Jimin.

His eyes roll back into his head, a deep exhale leaving his mouth, “Yeah, when I feel like it.” A sly smirk grows on his lips, knowing his careless words and procrastinating actions are driving you up the wall.

Now it's your turn for your eyes to roll back into your head. You are just about to stand up and grab a rag to clean them yourself, but you will not let Park Jimin get his way again.

That’s how working with him went. It’s like he knows he has some kind of mindless control over you, that you’ll just pick up his slack once he flashes you with his pearly whites. Damn him and his little crooked tooth that makes your heart twist a bit more than you’d like to admit.

“Can you just wipe off the jet-skis already? You did lose the bet.”

Your tone is kinder this time, adding a head tilt to make you seem a bit more friendly. He doesn’t buy it.

“Be careful ordering me around like that. Keep it up, and I’ll have to show you who’s actually in charge.”

There he goes again with the suggestive flirting. Except his actions never follow through. He just throws words like that out there, making your knees weak to rile you up. That’s half of the fun. The other half is watching you try to muster up some confidence to respond while your face flushes and legs squeeze together.

“You’re bluffing.” You roll your eyes once more. Part of you thinks that he is, but that deep-seated desire for him is nearly at its peak. And the small tinge of hope you have that he’s being serious suddenly becomes not so little – right at the moment, his feet begin pacing over to you.

“Am I?”

The left corner of his mouth lifts upwards, his eyes growing dark and eerie as he gets closer and closer. You swallow thickly, your heart beating faster as he approaches you. Without realizing, your legs clamp shut, squeezing together for dear life to ease the throbbing ache of your pussy as Jimin slowly closes the distance between you. And before you know it, you’re standing up from your stool; your heart caught in your throat as your mouth runs dry.

So badly you want to hold your ground. To keep yourself back from jumping his bones, grabbing the back of his neck to crash your lips into his. But you need restraint. He’s the one who's bluffing; he’s the one that has to make the move.

“M-mhm,” you hum, saving yourself the embarrassment of actually trying to speak in a state like this.

His hot breath fans across your cheeks and deep breaths pass his plump lips as he stands just inches away from you. Being this close to him is too intimidating for your liking. You're trying your best to keep your stance, but your knees are quaking, and your heart is pounding so hard that you can hear it.

But the closer he leans in, the quicker your heart begins to race.

“How about now?” He whispers over your lips, just a hair’s width away from brushing over them. Instantly, your eyes flutter shut, inhaling deeply to regain your composure and to get a grip on your sanity. If you let yourself go for one second, you’ll fall into him – but that’s what he wants.

“Mhm,” you repeat, too afraid to open your lips in fear they’ll touch his. Not because you’re scared to kiss him, but because you are too damn stubborn to be the one to kiss him.

You feel a gust of air push onto your lips as an airy chuckle leaves his mouth, “Cute.”

You swear your heart skips a beat when he says it, how he says it. His voice is low and seductive, dripping with lust and drawing you in, capturing your attention though you aren’t even looking at him. But even still, you're immersed with the thought of him. The predicting thoughts of the feeling of his lips on yours, and the soft texture of his light brown hair as your hands card through it.

It’s getting harder to hold back and stand your guard each time a soft breath lands on your lips. The sweet smell of his cologne overwhelming your sense of smell as heat from his body radiates onto you.

But suddenly, you find yourself not holding back any longer; your will power rapidly decreases as his hands rest on your waist. And when he tightens his grip around you, it's game over.

That strength you’ve been gripping onto for dear life is gone. Your lips crash into his in a heated kiss, his mouth instantly moving steadily against yours. They’re so much softer than they look, his pillowy lips encasing yours while his hands pull your body tightly into his own. His tongue soon traces over your bottom lip before he catches it between his teeth, tugging on it slightly in a way that drives you wild.

A stiffness forms beneath his shorts, pushing right against your body as he pulls you into him. Arousal quickly floods between your legs at the feeling, a needy moan vibrating past your lips and onto his. You’ve waited too long for this, the whole summer aching to feel his body pressed up against yours like this. And now you can barely hold it together just from a passionate make-out session – you’ve already soaked through your bikini bottoms, and he’s barely touched you.

But once his fingers find the hem of your shirt, you know this isn’t the furthest it's going to go. Internally, you’re singing praises, thanking whatever higher power allowed you to be in this position and this very moment.

And just when he’s about to pull away and rip the clothing off your body, he remembers where the two of you are. Quickly, his hands leave your body as he races over to the shack window. You roll your lips into your mouth, savoring the taste of him on you as you watch him reach for the heavy overhead door to shut. He closes the metal gate with a rough grunt, the slam of the door onto the countertop echoing through the small hut. And just like that, the room is filled with darkness, only a tiny beam of sunlight making its way through a small window in the back.

The sound of footsteps shuffling back in your direction calls you back in. Jimin’s figure appears again in front of you, the small amount of light peeking into the hut bouncing off his slender form. He’s just inches from you, but the sexual tension in the atmosphere feels like a million pounds weighing down on you.

Jimin’s hands reach back for your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. He wastes no time removing his own shirt, your hands effortlessly reaching out for him, running your fingers down his defined torso. His skin is hot, whether it's from the temperature outside or the building heat within him is up to your interpretation – but you’d like to think of it as the latter.

As he leans back into you your heart flutters, the now-familiar feeling of his breath washing over your lips comforting you.

“Fuck,” Jimin hums over your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

His hand wanders down under your thigh, gripping the muscle while lifting your leg with his strong arm. His body presses into yours, feeling the rough outline of his cock through his swim trunks right over your core. You’re dripping; arousal seeping right through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms and onto your cotton shorts that do absolutely nothing to conceal your desire.

He can feel it for himself once his fingers graze down your body, finally meeting the flimsy fabric covering your core. Jimin’s digits flatten across the area, dragging them across your slit ever so slowly, making you shudder at his touch.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as he applies some pressure, pressing and rubbing your clit through the material of your shorts. You let your head fall back, bucking your hips into his hand to feel more, but the layers between you keep you from getting what you desire.

You’re too needy for his touch, unable to withstand much teasing before crying out for him. “Jimin,” you whine, “stop teasing me, please.” Your voice is high pitched and drawn out, begging for him to just rip the remaining clothing off your body.

“Hmm,” he hums, satisfied with your begging. “Tell me what you want.”

A knot forms in your throat, desperate enough to keep begging, but your pride prevents you from letting any words out. Your body language should be enough, pressing yourself further into him and raking your fingers up his back and running your fingers through his hair to try and entice him.

“With your words,” he says firmly, stopping the movement of his hand over your core. You keen into his touch, letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you’re unable to look him dead in the eye. Not while you’re so desperate and needy for him, and not before you’re about to admit it.

“Jimin,” you whine again, dragging out the last syllable of his name for greater emphasis. “Want your fingers inside me.”

He smirks in response, satisfied with your words. “Already so wet for me,” you shiver as a deep, lust-filled voice leaves Jimin’s lips, his fingers slowly pulling the fabric of your shorts to the side. It sounds different from his normal voice; usually light and airy, something you could pick out of a crowd. But this was a whole different Jimin – one that you certainly like.

The cool air meets your soaked core, giving you a quick chill. Instinctively, you lean into him, the shiver running down your spine as his fingers begin to circle your entrance making it hard for you to stand up straight.

But all you can focus on is his erect member now rubbing against your thigh as the pads of his fingers smeared the wetness along your slit. Your eyes are sewn shut, your head digging deep into his neck as your only supporting leg quivers.

You’re so sensitive to his touch, it’s becoming difficult to control your body. Your eyes are closed so tight you can see stars dancing behind your eyelids, just focused on the feeling of his fingers dancing along your core. As his fingers work their way upwards, a high pitched moan leaves your throat. It catches you off guard once he begins rolling your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly, making you keen over in pleasure.

“Fuck, Jimin. Feels so good,” your fingers grip the roots of his hair, tugging and pulling at it to ground yourself. But once his lips begin moving over your neck and his hand supporting your lifted leg tightens, you can’t help but let out a wanton moan.

You find yourself grinding down onto Jimin’s fingers, needy for more of him, and yearning to feel him inside of you. You’ve already asked once, you already feel like you could come right now and he hasn't even been inside you yet.

He can read your body language well, bringing his fingers to trace the extent of your slit back until they meet your entrance once more. Swiftly, he dips two fingers into the arousal that's pooling from your core. Finally. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as just his digits carefully caress your walls. The slow movement of his fingers plunging into your depths takes your breath away in an instant.

The bulge rubbing against your leg is doing nothing but teasing you. Each time his finger slides in and out of you he ruts into you, begging to be touched. You pick up on this, snaking your hand between your bodies to palm at the evident cock outline he's sporting. A sudden gasp leaves his lips at the feeling, his eyebrows raising in succession as his cock jumps in your grip.

His movements stop as you squeeze his member, now unable to focus at the task at hand with you teasing him like this. A rough grunt leaves his lips, removing his fingers from your core instantly. You immediately feel empty and bare without them inside you. So your jaw drops, confused and ready to ask what his deal is – but Jimin has other plans.

His hand holding your leg up quickly leaves your thigh. You don’t even have time to react before his hands are gripping your waist, spinning your body around, and bending you over the desk as he steps behind you. Air is sucked out of your lungs as your chest meets the wooden desk, cheek pressed onto the hard surface as Jimin harshly grips your hips.

“Such a tease,” he shakes his head, one hand coming down to leave a playful slap on your ass. You wince in reaction, the quick tinge of pain turning into pleasure. Arousal floods from your core as his hand rubs over the affected area, soothing the skin over the material of your clothes.

Jimin’s fingers loop themselves over the waistband of your shorts and under your bikini bottoms, tugging them downward. He doesn’t bother to even take them off fully, just shimmies them halfway down your thighs so that he has full access to your dripping pussy.

He’s quick to slide his swim trunks off his body, his fully erect member springing from the confines of the fabric. Your heart is pounding in your chest, heaving as you try to catch your breath. But he’s not one to wait, wrapping his hand around his shaft and pumping it a few times before lining it up at your entrance.

You brace yourself for his length, but it doesn’t come. You’re desperate, arching your back in attempts to push him inside of you, but he just shifts his weight backward.

“Ask nicely.”

His voice is stern; teasing but direct. Rolling your eyes, you give in, unwilling to play another game of cat and mouse while he already has you bent over and ready for the taking.

“Please Jimin,” you moan, “please fuck me.” Leg bouncing impatiently as you wait for him, he lines himself up with your entrance once more. The light pressure of his tip pressed against you makes you stir, bouncing your leg in anticipation as your hands look for something to grip onto.

A steep gasp passes through your lips as his cock slides itself into you; your velvety walls squeezing the veiny ridges of his member as you take him in. He’s thick and long, his length continuing to push into you until you’re filled to the brim.

You can’t help but clench down on him as you adjust to his size, your walls squeezing his thick cock as he bottoms out his thrust. A string of curses leaves his lips as your walls squeeze around him from every angle. The arousal spilling from your cunt coats his cock deliciously.

Jimin’s hands quickly find their place on your hips, holding you steady as he begins to rock backward. His cock slides in and out of you slowly but forcefully. He makes sure to bottom out each time, taking his time to pull out and then slam himself into you with such force.

“So fucking tight,” he moans, his thrusts beginning to quicken in pace. Your arms extend before you, gripping onto the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. His powerful thrusts fail to subside, the force he rocks into you causing his member to prod your g-spot.

The sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat fill your ears. Soft whines bubble past your lips with each thrust, his power shaking you and the desk underneath you.

Smoothly, Jimin’s hand reaches downward, snaking between your legs and gathering your arousal on his fingertips. His fingers graze over your clit gently, immediately making your body jerk in reaction. Slight pressure is added by his hand, soon to make a slow rubbing motion.

“So...close…” you manage to get out while you pant for air. You can feel a knot tightening in your stomach, threatening to snap if he keeps on like this.

“Cum on my cock, princess” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The pet name is what gets you, your walls already beginning to spasm as he applies more pressure to your clit.

Euphoria takes hold on you as you release, your vision becoming fuzzy as your body grows limp. Jimin pushes you through it, his fingers continually moving over your throbbing bud as you release over him. Your legs shake, the strength of your orgasm so strong you lose all control of your body. His name leaves your lips like a mantra, chanting it over and over with curses intertwined.

It takes you a bit to come down, oversensitivity quickly setting in as Jimin’s trusts continue. His fingers are more gentle now, lightly toying with your clit as you do your best to try and swat his hand away. But you’re too lethargic, too drawn out from your orgasm that took all your strength away from you.

“One more,” he says, “doing so good for me.”

And soon enough that familiar knot in your stomach was making its way back to you, if it ever left in the first place. The repetitive tap of Jimin’s tip deep inside you has you so far gone; your pussy clenching and unclenching around him completely out of your control.

But it's getting to him too. The added lubricant of your orgasm mixed with the squeezing of your walls around his cock is bringing him close to his own end.

“Gonna...come,” he moans, his hands leaving your overstimulated clit to grip onto your hips. The pace of his thrusts quickens, his brow furrowing deeply as he focuses on chasing his high.

All it takes is one powerful thrust, and you were coming undone around him once again. “Fuck, fuck!” You nearly scream, pushing back into him to meet his thrusts, helping him through an orgasm of his own.

The everlasting sensation of bliss takes over the both of you. Jimin’s thrusts grow languid and sloppy, his torso slowly falling on top of your back. You lie like this for a moment, letting him collapse over you and feel the heat of his body radiate onto yours. It feels nice, close having him inside you like this while his arms wrap around you in silence.

“We should've done this sooner,” his voice breaks through the quiet room. A small smile forms on your lips as you internally agree, showing him with a nod of your head.

Slowly, he stands up, pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty for the second time today. A mixture of your and his cum dribbles out of your cunt, Jimin noticing and quickly swiping it up with his finger. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, watching his movements closely to see what he’ll do next.

Swiftly, his hand finds its way to his mouth, his digit slipping past his lips as he licks the juices from it. Your jaw drops in reaction, his finger leaving his mouth with a soft pop of his lips.

He notices you gawking at him, raising his eyebrows as you suggestively in response. “I’d like to try it right from the source next time.”

A slight chuckle leaves your lips, in disbelief while still being very turned on. “Next time.” You hum, liking the sound of that as it leaves your mouth.

“There will be a next time, won't there?” Except his question comes across as more of a statement, his tone firm and gestures sturdy while he reaches for his swim trunks to pull back up.

You follow his actions, standing back onto your shaky legs to pull your swimsuit bottoms and shorts up in one quick motion. There will definitely be a next time.

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