#life without colour part seven

[bunnyhugs77]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔

Pairing: environmentalist! jungkook x college student! reader

Series: 1/2

Word Count: 9.6k

Content Warning: practically cottage core, readers dog is a little ‘bitchy’ get it?, age gap (reader is 21, jungkook is 27), lots of nature, skinny dipping, reader is a tease, flowers as a love language, gardening, mutual pining, suggestive themes, tattooed! reader, pierced! reader, nerd talk, improper use of limes and honey, mentions of long-distance relationship, lots of plant-talk. 

Other Content

A filthy make out sesh, food play?, soft dom! jk, manhandling, grinding, dry humping, big dick! jk, penetrative sex, jungkook trying his best to be a gentleman, sex during a thunderstorm, unprotected sex (don’t be like them).

Of all the months in the year, June was definitely your favourite. What wasn’t there to love? Finally digging up your shorts and bathing suits from the drawer they’d been abandoned in upon the arrival of September. Eating cool treats under the hot sun. Not to mention, the perfect weather. Not too hot that you can’t walk a meter without breaking a sweat but still warm enough to wear shorts. 

Best of all, June was when you would drive 3 hours south to Somerset and stay with your parents for the summer. Your parents’ Somerset home was one of two that they owned but it was definitely their favourite. Why wouldn’t it be?

Somerset is a suburb that’s been abundantly blessed with beautiful forestry that shaded over a number of neighbourhoods including your own but not in a way that blocked out the sun. Because once those first hot rays of golden sunshine beamed down on the community, it was practically tradition for everyone to head down to the lake for a swim. 

At the end of the summer is the Summer Palooza. There’s great music, even better food, swimming and all kinds of activities for people of all ages to enjoy. Once the chaos of the day passed, the night would be filled with lights, blankets and watching the fireworks light up the sky.

You were already smiling just from pulling up onto your parents’ driveway. You loved it here. If only Taffy felt the same way. 

Taffy is the 8-month-old cairn terrier that you bought not long ago as you had gotten a little lonely during the holidays. The minute she became part of your life, you would never live to see a dull day again, nor a stress-free one at that. 

When she wasn’t parading around the house with one of your boots in her mouth, she was digging up dirt anytime she had the chance. 

This meant lots of running when you took her on walks, hoping the owners didn’t see your dog assault their lawn. You had given up on writing apology letters after the first seven incidents. Your hand was beginning to cramp. 

Even though the two of you got along well most of the time, it was moments like these when your heads bashed. Some people couldn’t imagine not getting along with their own dogs. Meanwhile, you didn’t have that much difficulty when it came down to it. 

“Don’t growl at me.” You bickered with the terrier who was locked behind the bars of her cage, but still, the sound of her objection scared you a little. “We’re going to stay here for the next three months, trust me, you’re going to love it.” You wondered if anyone could hear you talking to her as if she were an actual human. Was that weird? 

Whatever, you didn’t care. She was just as petty, emotional and stubborn as a real human. She made that very clear when the first thing she did after being let out was run to the other side of the living room, far away from you. 

“She’s just the cutest thing,” Your mom gushes as her eyes followed Taffy’s fluffy body as she was on the move around the house. “To you,” You mumbled under your breath as you eyed her wheat-coloured fur bounce in the wind as she hopped up the stairs.

You let yourself get comfortable in the soft cushions of your parents’ couch. You talked about your drive over, and how things were with Taffy which naturally led to you bringing up how many times you considered giving her away. Your father found it quite amusing but you weren’t laughing. 

“It’s not funny dad. She doesn’t listen to me, and she’s ungrateful--” you stopped talking as you caught onto a shared look between your parents. 

“What was that?” you point between them and they try to shrug it off. 

“No no, what was that look you gave each other.” You insisted you picked on an exchange between them and would not rest until they came clean. 

“Nothing! Just sounds like you found a dog who’s just like you.” you objected, swearing up and down that you were nothing alike. Suddenly you stopped your rant, realizing you were defending yourself against the comparison between you and your own dog. 

You had a long drive up, maybe the fatigue was finally catching up to you. It must be since you were yawning for the 4th time in the last 15 minutes. You decided it was time for a ‘nap’. 

It was that same nap that consumed you for the next 13 hours, and you’re sure you could’ve slept longer if it weren’t for your mother waking you up. “Y/n, wake up.” 

There were only two things you hated in this world. Ketchup and being woken up. Naturally, you turned your body away from your mother’s voice, pulling the sheets over your head while you were at it. Then, she did the unthinkable. The covers were ripped from your body entirely and all at once. 

Your eyes shot open and your body shivered as the air conditioning was beginning to make contact with your bare skin. You sat up slowly, eyeing your mother down with death in your eyes. 

“It’s Taffy.” You were filled with dread.

---

In nothing but your shorts and tank top, you slipped on your dad's slides before you followed your mom outside. You first noticed the stunning hues of orange that striped over the sky as the sun was beginning to rise. 

Part of you thought you’d have to walk a little further out to see this grand revelation that was so important that your mother felt the need to wake you up from your nap, but you could see more than enough from the porch.

Holes everywhere. 

But not on your parent’s side of the grass. Oh no, of course not. It’s like she purposely dug up the neighbour's lawn because that’s what would get you in deep shit. 

But wait, it gets better. There was a beautiful arrangement of various plants along the neighbour's driveway until now that is. The soil was now littered with chewed leaves and torn petals. 

You don’t smoke but you felt that today was the best day to get into the habit. 

“Taffy did all this? By herself?” Your finger pointed loosely towards the terrorized grass. Your mom hums in agreement from behind you. Your face was full of shock, disbelief, awe, basically, any word that could describe your bewilderment at the situation. 

“She must’ve gotten out last night. I was going to take her for a walk this morning but clearly, she beat me to it.” Your mom explains as the two of you walk back into the house. 

“So what are you going to tell them?” your arms unconsciously folded over your chest as you questioned your mother about her next steps. “Me? Oh, honey, Taffy is your dog. Your responsibility.” 

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry that my dog absolutely annihilated your property, here’s $1000, please don’t sue me?’’’ Comedy was not your intention, yet your mother laughed anyways. 

“Mom!” You whined, practically stomping your feet out of stress. “This is serious! What am I supposed to do? I don’t have that kind of money laying around..” Your thoughts trail off, a mischievous smile briefly appearing on your face before vanishing. 

“Y’know, you look so pretty today.” You continue to compliment your mother’s attire, “And your face is looking more and more youthful by the day--” Your mother swatted your fingers away from her face. 

“We’re not paying for the damages, Y/n, but nice try.” She smiles, now it was her pinching your cheeks. With one last comforting touch to your upper arm, your mom was going back upstairs. Slowly, your vision panned over to the dog who was sleeping soundly in her little bed. 

‘Should’ve given you away when I had the chance’, you think. 

----

It was a little past noon and you knew your neighbours were having a heart attack right about now and who were you to interrupt someone during a medical emergency, you should probably just push it off till later, or never, never works for you.

You could see it happening vividly. The old lady takes a mere two steps outside and suddenly grabs her chest before collapsing. God. You couldn’t believe it. 

“Y/n, did you tell them yet.?” Now your dad was the one asking as he came down to the kitchen, making himself lunch. “Not yet, I’m going to shower first.” Secretly you hoped you too, would drop dead in the shower to avoid what was to come.

--

Stopping yourself at your front door, you opened your bank account for sentimental purposes. You were going to miss having money in here. With one deep breath, you made the short journey over to the neighbours. 

You had only spoken to them a handful of times over the last decade since your parents had bought the house here. With a quick ring of the doorbell you contemplated running back inside, you could still make it.

You heard footsteps approaching the door, there was no going back now. 

Ready to see the old lady with no more than 12 years left in her lifespan to welcome you but that’s not what your eyes were met with at all. Currently face-to-chest with undoubtedly the finest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

The man was wearing a black long-sleeve button-up that strained over his broad shoulders with the top two buttons undone, teasing the visibly large pecs that lay beneath his shirt. He wore black slacks that were held up by a belt that hinted at his small waist.

“How can I help you?” He smiles warmly. 

“You’re not old.” Is the first thing you say.

“I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you too?” He introduces himself, maintaining his quirked brow at your odd statement.

“No- I’m sorry. Obviously, you’re not old, I was just expecting you to be old-- I’m Y/n, I live next door..” You needed to compose yourself, you came here for a reason. You took a deep breath as you looked him dead in the eyes for the first time. 

“I recently got a new dog who can’t seem to keep her paws out of the ground so she’s the one to blame for destroying your plants. I’m so sorry, if there’s anything I can do--” It wasn’t until Jungkook told you to breathe did you realize you had tried to say everything in one breath. 

You inhaled. Then exhaled. 

“Can I show you something?” His question seemed to have been mostly rhetorical as he was already making his way towards the gate between your houses that led to his backyard. 

Once it was opened he stepped to the side, allowing you to walk through and you could just about feel your heart fall out of your ass at the sight. 

More holes.

More dead flowers.

More money.

You were afraid to look at the man behind you, but you did anyways. His arms were crossed, and you felt sick. “How much is this going to cost me?” You didn’t even want to know. 

“Well, with the damage done to the 30-year-old bonsai alone, that’s around eight thousand--” 

Your vision went black. Suddenly you couldn’t hear or see. Unconsciously your left eye twitched and you felt like you were foaming at the mouth. He just kept talking and talking, the costs just kept going and going. You never even heard the final amount, the only thing you could hear were the voices in your head telling you to kill that little cairn terrier once you got home. 

“Unless..” 

Unless?! There was an unless? This was your way out. There was no way you would pass it up. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be worse than selling your limbs just to afford the price of one bonsai. 

“Yes! I’ll do it.” 

“Great, so I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You don’t even know what he said. You completely blanked out. You tilted your head to the side. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. For what, again?” Now he looked a little confused.

“To re-plant?” He mirrors your tilted head.

God. 

At this moment you hoped Taffy would do what she was good at and dig a hole deep enough for you to crawl in and die. 

--

“Taffy!” You shout the minute you walk through the door. Enter the energetic dog who came bouncing down the steps at the sound of your voice. She circled your feet and you fought the urge to kick her, but even you knew you would regret that. 

She seemed to have been in a really good mood today and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, her energy was contagious. 

“No! I’m mad at you.” You remind yourself as you kick off your slides and make your way into the house with her following behind you, this time with a toy in her mouth, wanting you to play. 

“Not now.” Ignoring her, you take a seat at the kitchen table where your dad was working on some documents with focus. You sat in front of him quietly with a pout, hoping he’d notice you.

You sigh. 

No response. 

You sigh a little louder. 

He flips over the next paper, still ignoring you.

You sigh even louder. 

Slamming his pen down on the table, he gives you his undivided attention.

“What is it.” 

“Nothing, except for the fact Taffy just cost me like fifteen thousand dollars in property damages.” Your father was silent. He too was in shock like you were earlier. 

“He’s charging you that much!?” You shake your head, “No, he’s making me help him re-plant everything that Taffy ruined instead. That’s so unfair.” You complained. Your father couldn’t believe you were complaining about such a reasonable repercussion. 

Maybe you needed this. 

He goes back to filling out his papers and ignoring you. 

“Dad!” You tried getting his attention again but you knew you had lost it for good this time. Instead, you decided to give in and play with Taffy. “Fine.” You take the rubber ball from her jaws, “I’ll play with you, but I won’t forgive you.” You toss it elsewhere watching her run after it. 

---

The next morning you found yourself disappointed to see that you hadn’t died in your sleep. That means you actually had to go gardening for the next 6 hours. You were left perplexed once you got out of the shower. Staring at your closet, unsure what one would wear to garden. 

You settled on capris and a t-shirt that you didn’t care to get dirty. With one last look in the mirror, you said goodbye to your happiness and made your way next door. 

“Good morning,” He greets you the minute you make your way down the steps of your porch. You weren’t surprised to see he had already gotten started on the front lawn, a bag of grass seed on his right and a trowel in his gloved hands. 

“Here, I got you gloves.” He hands you a pair of burgundy gardening gloves to match his green ones. “Thanks.” You stood awkwardly as you watched him return to his previous position on the ground. 

“Have you gardened before?” He asks, looking up at you from where he knelt on the grass. You nodded, “Not a lot, only a few times with my mom growing up.” He smiles. 

“Well, maybe now you can practice a little more. I think gardening is one of those things that don’t really seem to be all that exciting at first but you find yourself doing it and enjoying it more over time, y’know?” Humming along with a plastered smile on your face. 

You? Enjoying gardening? Good one. 

“Would you mind just taking this trowel and using it to raise all of the lifted-up patches of grass, then I'll add some seeds once you’re done, we can water and we’ll be done for the first part.” 

When he says it like that, it sounded like you’d be finished in no time. Never in a million years could you have anticipated that it would keep you preoccupied for the next three hours. At least Jungkook wasn’t the worst person to talk to. 

You didn’t talk much in the beginning, not sure if it was because you both were total strangers or because he was devastatingly attractive. Maybe a mix of both.

Just when another period of silence fell over the two of you, your parents were seen leaving your house, waving to the both of you before getting in the car and leaving to god knows where.  

“I’ve seen your parents a few times, but I don’t remember seeing you.” Jungkook prayed he didn’t come off as creepy, he was simply curious to know where you’d been these last 4 months since he’d moved in. He’s sure he would’ve remembered you.

“Ah, yeah. I live about 3 hours north of here in Pineley, for school.” Jungkook knew he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t surprised to hear you were still in school. 

“Oh really? What are you studying?” 

“Just economics, I kind of hate it though, only one more year to go, then I’ll finally be done.” Jungkook was doing his best to crunch the numbers in his head.

Assuming that you graduated high school when you were 18... so 3 years later... You’re 21?

God, you’re 21. 

He’s 27 and you’re 21. 

Does he find you attractive? Yes, obviously. Who wouldn’t? Has he thought about you since the moment you met yesterday? Of course, but that stops now.

“But enough about me, what about you? The last time I was here, there was an old lady living here.” He chuckles, “So that explains the ‘old’ comment yesterday.” Your face flushes red as you continued to pat down the grass seeds in their rightful places. 

“New job, you know how that goes.” You nod with a smile, patting down the last patch of grass, and you realized you were done. “I think that’s it.” He announces, dropping his trowel down the grass, and giving the lawn a lookover. 

“It certainly isn’t as pretty as it used to be but once the new grass comes in it’ll look better.” He stands, offering you his hand to help you stand as well. You do your best to swat at the butterflies in your stomach from his gesture. 

“Do you want something to drink? I have some inside.” 

Now that you think about it, you were quite thirsty. 

“That would be great actually, thanks.” you appreciate his kind gesture, standing awkwardly on the lawn not sure what to do until you see his head pop out of the doorway. “Y/n, you coming?” 

His house looked nothing like yours. Everything was so, clean. Not to say that your house was dirty by any means but there was something about his selection of colours and arrangement of furniture that made everything so sleek and neat. 

He definitely owned more plants than the average person, you also couldn’t help but notice how cool it was in here, but not to the point that it made you shiver, more so a refreshing feeling. 

After the both of you washed your hands, he led you to the kitchen and invited you to have a seat on the stool behind his marble island. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?” Your eyebrows raised at his question.

“Allergies? I thought I was just coming here for some water?” You felt more than accomplished to see him laugh even though it was a genuine question. 

“You’re helping me with a pretty big task, I think you deserve better than just water.” Anything he said after that fell on deaf ears, your brain was too caught up with his flattery. Maybe gardening wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

You were intrigued to watch him pull out a wooden knife instead of a typical steel one. “Is all of your cutlery made of wood?” You were being sarcastic, poking fun at him. What you weren’t expecting was to see him pull open a drawer that revealed various assortments of cutlery all made from wood. 

“It is actually.” Now he was the one laughing. 

“Why?” Strumming your nails on the counter as you watched him roll up his sleeves for the first time today. Suddenly your palms were open and planted on the surface, bracing yourself. The sleeve of tattoos on his right arm knocked you breathless. Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out. 

“Well, because--Are you alright?” He checks in, you looked like you were overheating, and you had to convince him and yourself that you were just fine.

 Even if he wasn’t convinced, he decides to let it go and continues preparing your drinks. Turning his back to you as he opened his fridge. You should’ve suspected he had more tattoos aside from the lotus you spotted behind his ear earlier. 

“As you were saying,” Prompting him to finish what he was saying earlier, “Yeah, for starters, wood handles heat better, they’re antibacterial but most importantly it’s eco-friendly. We’ve done so much damage to the earth already, so why not do things a little differently, y’know?” 

That would explain all the plants. “So, I guess you take this global warming thing pretty seriously, huh?” His head tilts back while he lets out a fit of laughter. “I wouldn’t say that I take it lightly if that's what you’re asking.” He smiles as he skillfully peels the oranges with the knife. 

You noticed that he put the discarded peels into a little electric composter he had on the corner of his counter. He was really serious about this earth thing. “I do what I can to reduce my carbon footprint. I had solar panels installed on the roof within the first few weeks of moving here, and I’m sure you noticed all the plants in here. They're quite useful since I don’t actually have air conditioning.” 

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “No air conditioning? In Somerset? There’s a heatwave every other week in the peak of summer.” He shrugs, “Didn’t you notice how cool it was when you first walked in?” You nod slowly, curious to see where he was going with this.

“It’s thanks to the sansevierias, ficus elasticas and the aglaonemas I have around the house. When they go through their transpiration process they cool down the air at the same time.” 

What. 

Your severe confusion must’ve been visible enough to prompt Jungkook to dumb it down for you. “Think of it as when plants feel hot, they sweat and release water into the air which cools it down.” 

“What are you some kind of plant freak?” He laughs, reaching for the manual juicer he had on his drying rack. “Environmental engineer actually, but plant freak works too.” You felt almost embarrassed for speaking. You decided to just focus on the freshly squeezed orange juice that was filling up your glasses. 

“Enjoy.” He grins as he slid you your glass. Your taste buds were far from ready to handle the sweet yet tangy taste of the oranges. It was easily the best orange juice you’ve ever had in your life. “Oh my god.” He smiles, “Good right?” 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You could not believe you were ranting about juice but there you were. “Would you believe me if I told you those oranges came from my backyard?” 

“I would, honestly.” 

---

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t a little disappointed to see how quickly the two of you had managed to finish replanting everything in the front yard. It’s been a few weeks and the two of you got along surprisingly well even though he was such a plant nerd.

You had a schedule, twice a week at 10 am you’d be at Jungkook’s door more excited than ever to garden. Something you never thought you’d say. 

This morning you were taking Taffy for a walk because why not. It was a beautiful morning, damp grass from the rain the night before and the smell of petrichor still lingering in the air. “Good morning,” Nearly breaking your neck at the sound of Jungkook’s voice greeting you as you watched him approach his car but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the leash in your hand and what it was attached to. 

“Is this Taffy?” He points to the cairn terrier who was suddenly sitting pretty and wagging her tail. “The one and only.” He was already making his way over, making sure not to step on the grass that was growing in nicely. 

“Can I pet her?” You were flattered that he had even asked in the first place. So used to children and even other adults just petting her without asking. “Of course.” You permit, watching his face light up as he ran his hand over her brown fur. 

“How could something so cute cause so much damage.” It was a rhetorical question but you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing her under the bus, “Cute? This is all an act. The minute you get in your car I’m sure she’ll be 3 feet deep in someone else’s lawn.” The two of you laugh for a moment, falling into natural conversation until Jungkook realized that at this rate he was going to be late for work.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” His smile was so charming, so enchanting, so-- Taffy was already barking at you to start walking since Jungkook had already driven off. 

--

“God it’s so hot.” The two of you laid sprawled out on the grass of Jungkook’s inconveniently large backyard. Jungkook had long given up on wearing long sleeves, now opting for simple t-shirts and cargo shorts. 

“Maybe we should take a break?” Usually, you would take a break after 3 hours but it had only been an hour and a half so you were surprised to hear him propose such a thing but relieved at the same time. 

Following the same routine as always once you go inside, washing your hands then reconvening in the kitchen for something to drink. After about three glasses of water, you were able to stabilize yourself in your seat. 

“What’s next?” your curiosity prompts you to ask what the two of you would be doing once you returned outside. “I was hoping to start with the gardenias but I think they’re far beyond repair and we’ll have to buy more.” He leans forward on his folded arms, the closeness between your faces was getting to you. 

You held your breath, eyes looking anywhere but his when you spoke. “We?” He backs up, standing back at full height. “Yeah, I thought maybe we could go pick up some more and hopefully by the time we’re back it’ll be a little cooler.” 

“Sounds good.” 

--

You had no idea joining Jungkook for a trip to the local greenhouse would turn into an entire tour. It was like every single flower and plant had a meaning. 

“Do you just have the meaning of every flower imprinted in the back of your mind?” You cross your arms as Jungkook reached for the gardenias on the higher shelves. “Not every one, but I’m sure I know most.”

“This one?” Your index pointed to the calla lilies. “Beauty.”

“How about this.” Pivoting to focus on the opposite wall of flowers, quizzing him on the first flower you laid eyes on. “Health and prosperity.”

“Every flower really does have meaning behind it.” He hums in agreement, “I think that plants have a language of their own. That’s why bouquets are more than just flowers, they’re statements really.” 

“I never really thought about it that way.” 

“What about these?” You pointed to the red chrysanthemums that were so beautifully vibrant. “I love you.” It would be a lie to say the both of you didn’t freeze when you took in what he had said.

You were afraid to speak first. Thankfully you didn’t have to. Jungkook clears his throat. “That’s what red chrysanthemums mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Duh.” Awkward laughter erupts from your chest as you continued to walk by his side toward the checkout. 

The beginning of the ride back was oddly quiet as opposed to the one on your way here which was filled with a sing-along and a lecture about the importance of compost. 

Sunset was still a few hours away and the weather was still quite hot but it was a little cooler compared to earlier. 

“Can we stop somewhere?” You broke the silence and Jungkook was quick to redirect the car to your request. 

That’s how you found yourselves walking along Pacific Street. It’s like tourist central. it’s where all the popular shops and restaurants were found. Including Icee’s frozen dessert shop. It was easily one of your favourite spots in town. 

You ordered a lime sherbet for yourself and a chocolate sundae for Jungkook. 

“How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Jungkook leans down behind you and whispers in your ear. “Because you have 2 pints of chocolate fudge ice cream in your freezer,” You whisper back, watching the woman whisk herself around behind the counter preparing your orders.  

“And how do you know what’s in my freezer,” 

Your curiosity got the best of you. You wondered if he ate leaves for a living so when you found yourself alone in the kitchen when he went to use the bathroom you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Oh! Would you look at that, our order’s ready.” 

The two of you walked around town for a while. Now you were the one giving him a tour of the heart of Somerset. Sitting on the trunk of Jungkook’s car the two of you looked over the lake and the people down below you. 

“Do you like it here?” With the gentle breeze softly blowing your curls in your face you looked over the lake, not looking at him as you spoke and he did the same. “I mean, the greenery is great, there’s a lot of parks and--” 

You turn to face him, “Yeah and the carbon levels here are perfect blah blah blah, but do you like it here?” He grins at your teasing. “I do, yeah. The people here are just...” Neither of you realized how close your faces had gotten until your lips were millimetres apart. “..perfect.” he breathes out and you leaned in but he pulled away.

“Oh. I’m sorry I thought-” Your ears were red and you’re sure your face was too. “No, you’re right... It’s just. We can’t.” He sighs, looking away from you for a moment before looking you in the eyes once again. Your head tilted to the side confused, and he hated it when you did that. 

It was so cute. 

“Why not?” You ask. 

“Because, you’re 21, I’m 27. I just don’t want you to do anything you’d regret.” Your heart warmed. At all times he had your best interest at heart.

“I know what I want, Jungkook.” Cautiously, you moved closer until you were as close as you were before. You weren’t really doing anything but you were driving him up the wall. 

“Do you know what you want, Jungkook?” You were bad for him. So so bad. Everything in him was telling him this was a bad idea, but he threw caution to the wind the moment he pressed his lips against yours. 

Taking your face in his hands as he kissed you, over and over again until you were left breathless. “Oh shit.” you breathe out and he just laughs. “Where did all that come from?” He leans back with a smug look, “Been wanting to do that for a month now.” 

The cool breeze passed by again, bringing a weighted silence with it. Leaving that question in the air. It was all a matter of who was going to address the elephant in the room. Unsurprisingly, it was you. “Now what?”

“Nothing.” He says, and your heartbeat falters just a little. He must've noticed the change of expression on your face, “Nothing if you don’t want anything to change, but I’d be happy to see where this goes..” He struggled to look you in the eyes, not used to being the one under pressure.

“I’d like that.” 

--

“And then he kissed me!” You felt like you were in high school again the way you were throwing yourself all over your bed and swinging your feet as you talked to your dog about your eventful night. 

Taffy seemed to have been a little more excited than you were based on her endless barking. “I know right, and now we’re going to the Summer Palooza together.” Taf hopped up onto your bed with you and started to ambush you with licks and it made you laugh. 

Even though she was a little monster, she was really like your best friend. 

--

“You really do this for fun, every day?” You were developing a slight attitude, blame it on the heat. You enjoyed gardening when the temperature lets you, but days like these where you could see distorted waves of heat made you miserable. 

Jungkook didn’t respond, he only smiled knowing you were just ranting. You felt as though you were melting. Sweat beading on your forehead from doing nothing, the hot sun beating down on your skin with no remorse. 

“I’m taking a break.” It’d only been 30 minutes since you had begun gardening today but you couldn’t take it anymore. The moment you walked inside you regret making fun of Jungkook for his lack of air conditioning because those plants were doing a damned good job at cooling you down. 

You’d begun to learn your way around his house after spending so much time here. You reached for a glass from the cupboard before pouring yourself a glass of water. Taking sips as if you hadn’t tasted water in days. 

You let out a small gasp at the feeling of hands on your waist from behind you, “How can you make drinking water so attractive?” You cringed and pushed him away, “You’re so corny.” You snort before finishing off the rest.

“I wanna show you something,” He says it enticingly, as if what he was to show you would change your life forever. “I’m listening.” You stalk towards him slowly as he picked up his keys off the counter. “Up for a drive?” You grin. 

-

“Y’know, when you asked me if I was up for a drive I didn’t know we’d be trekking through the forest.” You were complaining again and Jungkook could do nothing but roll his eyes. “We’re almost there, I promise.” 

True to his words, only a few more minutes and you had arrived at your destination. The 10-minute walk was more than worth it. You were met with the sight of a gorgeous blue lake, it wasn’t the biggest but there were mini waterfalls sliding down the large rocks off to the side. 

There was direct sunlight bouncing off the water and making everything seem brighter. “Woah..” You stepped towards it slowly. You were shaded by the forest for most of the way here so you didn’t feel as hot but now that you were out in the open again the heat was overwhelming. 

Without thinking you stripped yourself off your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your underwear. “Care to join me?” You pivoted to face the man who was fighting off some of his most intrusive thoughts at the sight of your body. 

He could only remain so calm, but the moment he laid eyes on the cherry blossom tattoo that stretched from your mid-thigh up to the underswell of your breast or the butterfly jewelry that dangled from your navel, he was done for.

 He was going absolutely feral.

“fuck.” he mumbles, watching you dive in head first. He was feeling too much blood rush south but it didn’t make him think twice before stripping himself of his own shirt and shorts. In nothing but his boxers, he jumped in with you. 

He swam towards you with the biggest grin on his face. “Feel better?” You shake your head as your hands moved below the water. “I’m still..” Your voice had dropped an octave and become more seductive, “quite hot.” You punctuated your sentence with the revelation of you holding your panties in the palm of your hand.

Surely you had to know what you were doing to him. 

Jungkook feared he would drown. 

You’re too distracting, and you only proved his point by stripping yourself of the last article of clothing you were wearing and tossing them onto the grass as well. Jungkook was doing his best to be respectful, never wanting to cross a line without your permission. 

That’s how he found himself cross-eyed trying to stop his line of sight from falling. “It’s okay, you can look.” Even then he tried to be respectful and only look for a few seconds at a time but he was hopeless once you had taken his hand and pressed it against your chest. 

As if it was second nature he gave it a light squeeze. He thanks the universe for his sharp hearing or else he would’ve missed the small whimper that escaped under your breath. “you drive me fucking insane.” Jungkook’s voice was low and guttural before he pulled you closer to him. Wasting no time to bring his lips to yours. 

Kissing you deeply, as if his life depended on it. You were intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough. God, he was going to fucking miss you. It was a bitter thought he kept in the back of his head the more he felt himself getting used to having you around.

Fortunately, he didn’t let that gloomy thought ruin his mood as the two of you enjoyed your time together. Neither of you were expecting to spend two hours swimming but that’s exactly what you did until you couldn’t swim anymore.  

The drive home was a wet one but it made the shower feel ten times more refreshing. With a towel still wrapped around your hair and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt you walked towards your bed and checked your phone. 

It’s mission impossible trying not to smile at the sight of Jungkook’s name on your screen. 

Jungkook: I had fun today ;)

--

“This is the last one,” Jungkook announces and you felt a little emotional as you watched him squeeze the plant out of its plastic container. It was a blue vervain flower. “Hopefully it rains soon, these ones need a lot of water.” He informs you and that’s when you realized it hadn’t rained in weeks which was a little unusual for a Somerset summer. 

“Would you like to do the honours?” He offers you the pile of dirt with the sprouting plant. “Can we do it together?” His eyes crinkle at the sides with a smile. So, together, you planted the blue vervain. 

“Are you sure we’re finished? We didn’t miss a spot?” You stand up abruptly, searching through the empty bags of soil and containers that once had sprouts in them. “Y/n, are you okay?” 

You were fine. Wasn’t it normal to cry once you finished gardening? 

“Yes, can’t you see? I’m clearly fine.” Your tearful eyes weren’t so convincing. You didn’t have to explain what was wrong, because he knew. This wasn’t about gardening. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around you, holding you and it only pulled more emotion out of you. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” You mumble through broken cries into his shirt. “I know, but you can’t stay for me either.” He was right. Even though you had just met less than three months ago you grew attached to him so it made the thought of leaving him more difficult than it should be.

-

It was nearing sunset when Jungkook was doing nothing important at home when his phone buzzed on his coffee table. 

He too, couldn’t stop a small smile from forming at your message.

Y/n: do you have limes? 

Jungkook: Homegrown or store-bought? :)

You didn’t need any more small talk before you were already on your way over. That’s why Jungkook wasn’t surprised to hear the ring of his doorbell. Always happy to see you.

“Limes?” Jungkook brings up your odd request as he walked behind you towards the kitchen. “Yes, limes. I wanted a snack and we ran out, so now I’m here to take some of yours.” Jungkook did his best to keep his eyes off the way your hips swayed from the left to right with every step you took. 

He leaned against the counter, watching you whiz around the kitchen. Grabbing the wooden knife you once judged him for but grew fond of and a lime. “Do you have any honey?” He points to the cupboard to your left. 

Now that you had everything you needed, this was your favourite part. Slicing open the first lime in half, then again into thinner slices. You drizzled on just a little bit of honey onto the citron and bit onto it. 

Jungkook looked horrified. 

“Should I call someone for help?” You took it personally and objected. “It’s so good you have to try it.” You approached him with a honey-coated slice of lime but he immediately moved away from you to the other side of the island.

Jungkook’s place had dozens of big windows and skylights to welcome natural lighting as a replacement for regular lights. That’s how you noticed the clouds get progressively darker over the last 15 minutes but it wasn’t your concern at the moment. 

What you needed was to get Jungkook to try your creation. “How about I kiss you instead?” He freezes with interest. “I’m listening.” With the simple beckoning of your index finger, he was standing in front of you.

“Open.” You instruct, holding the bottle of honey high enough so it would fall onto his tongue. Next, you squeeze a generous amount of lime juice on yours before grabbing Jungkook by his cheeks. Crashing your lips together, creating a deliciously sweet but sour taste between the two of you. 

Your tongue swiped over his plump lower lip trying to savour the flavour and the kiss to the best of your ability but Jungkook was losing his self-control. His hands found themselves holding you at your hips, pulling your front to be flush against his, but he suddenly pulled away. 

Your eyes were half-lidded, dark and full of lust; your lips beginning to swell a little from the previous attack they just endured. you looked like sex on legs and that’s why jungkook had to stop himself. 

“What’s wrong?” he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to ask him such a thing. as if you didn’t know. “You. You’re plaguing my mind, y/n, and I’m afraid that once I start I can’t stop.” your teeth played with the plump flesh of your lip at his confession. 

“then don’t stop.” 

A clash of thunder roared in the sky.

Your clothes were scattered along the stairs leading up to Jungkook’s room which was massive if you might add. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t been up here yet. 

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, leaving you to admire his body that was sculpted by the gods themselves. Broad shoulders, defined abs and those muscular thighs you so desperately wanted to ride, but maybe another day. 

“You have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” The feeling of his hot breath against the side of your neck gave you burning chills. With his arms on either side of you, he rolled his hips into yours and through his boxers alone you could feel his dick that was begging to be freed from its confines. 

“I- I need you.” your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips sucking on a particular spot on your neck making you let out a breathless moan.

“You’ve got me. I’m all yours.” He reassures you before he locked your lips with his while skillfully removing your bra. you helped with the action by arching your back giving him full access to undo the clasps.

within seconds he was attacking your full breasts. licking over your nipples with desperation. your hand raised to gently run your fingers through his locks while your legs widened to make more room for the man between them.

soon his kisses began to move south but stopped at the ink that patterned your skin. the tattoo was in black and white since you felt the blossoms were pretty enough that they didn’t need colour. once jungkook was done with you he had managed to colour in every single blossom with sinful bruises.

jungkook’s room was probably the most susceptible to natural light as it had the biggest windows, giving the both of you a front-row view of the storm that pummeled the world outside, but that didn’t matter. nothing else mattered except this very moment. 

now paying attention to the jewelry that was pierced into the skin above your belly button. jungkook let his fingers toy with it tauntingly, “a flower, hm?” your eyes were shut, too focused on keeping it together to respond.

“Pretty sure the last time I saw this little thing it was a butterfly, wasn’t it?” your body froze once you felt the pads of jungkook’s fingers touching your clothed core. you didn’t respond. 

“I asked you a question didn’t I?” he applied a sadistic amount of pressure to your clit, knowing it was just enough to get your attention but not enough to give you what you were looking for. 

“yes.” you breathed out, finally opening your eyes to see he was staring right back at you. “why did you change it? I thought you loved butterflies.” he was mocking you. using your words against you from a discussion you had a few days ago. he knows why you changed it. 

“you know why,” as if he was ignoring you he continued to rid you of your underwear leaving you completely bare. “no, I don’t think I do. refresh my memory.” the moment you felt his big and calloused hands gripping your thighs you felt you may never speak again.

Every touch, every whisper, every look he gave you left you on fire and wanting more. “you. I did it for you.” jungkook’s wicked grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes shut as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, with your ankles hanging over his shoulders and his nose against your dripping core.

a flash of lightning lit up the room briefly before it relied on the dim lighting of two naturally scented candles he had lit a little before you came over. “look at you, dripping wet and I’ve barely touched you.” 

“please,” you whimpered and he was so weak. he couldn’t deny you for long, you had no idea how much of a hold you had on him. wasting no time, he licked a flat stripe up your cunt and it took everything in you not to scream, including closing your legs on his head. 

there was no other place jungkook would rather be than between the soft flesh of your thighs but if he wanted to eat you out until you cried he’d need a little more space. 

he pried your legs open once more and you were already shaking. placing a comforting hand on your abdomen he tried to calm you down, “you gotta relax baby, I've got you.” 

you were helpless, unable to do anything but grab fistfuls of his organic cotton bedsheets as his tongue assaulted your poor pussy. “f-feels so good.” you whined, beginning to roll your hips against his face. 

quickly you felt the heat begin to build in your core with the skillful use of his tongue. “jungkook-!” your vision became distorted as your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, but jungkook didn’t stop. he lapped up every last drop of your orgasm on his tongue before bringing a kiss to your lips. 

jungkook was fucking filthy and you loved it.

“I need you,” already one step ahead of you, jungkook was stripping himself of his boxers. in one swift motion jungkook was flipping you onto your stomach and lining himself up with the entrance to your sopping cunt. 

you had barely gotten a chance to see and admire his dick but for a brief moment, you did it and had your breath hitching in your throat. you knew you would struggle to stand tomorrow. “you ready, baby?” he checks in with you and you decided to answer with actions. 

arching your back and pushing your ass towards him gave him all the answers he needed. “god, y/n. you’re going to be the death of me.” he groans, inching in slowly giving you time to adjust to his large size. A size you knew would take a while to get used to. 

he continued to slide in until he eventually bottomed out and your two bodies were connected. you were squirming nonstop beneath him as if trying to escape, body so overwhelmingly full. “just relax,” he whispers near your ear and plants a reassuring kiss on the side of your neck. 

doing as told you to relax your muscles and jungkook could immediately feel the difference. “that’s it, you’re taking me so well.” you smile into the pillows at his praises until your mouth fell open with erotic moans once he began to pound into you.

“fuck.” gruff and low moans fell from jungkook’s lips frequently. you never took him to be the kind to make much noise during sex but you were more than pleasantly proven wrong. his sounds only added to the speed at which you were approaching your climax.

“oh shitt, jungkook, I’m gonna-” this time you really did scream at the added pleasure from the friction you felt as jungkook mercilessly rubbed your clit. “me too, baby. me too. just hold it a little longer.” you couldn’t. it was impossible but you tried to hold it for as long as you could. 

“cum.” you didn’t have to be told twice. your arms went limp, no longer able to hold you up as you were pushed over the edge and came with jungkook following closely behind. his hips losing their consistency and becoming erratic before you felt him painting your insides with his cum. 

“oh shit..” the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of your heavy breathing and even heavier rain as it bounced off the glass of his windows. “at least it rained.” your voice sounded weak from all the screaming you’d done. 

your body was weak but your brain couldn’t seem to understand that as you watched jungkook whiz around the room with heart eyes. he looked like the epitome of sex and sin. the waves of his hair falling over his face loosely as some were stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

the size of his muscles distracting but not distracting enough to consume your attention away from the tattoos that covered the entirety of his right arm. before you could drool over him any longer he was already making his way toward you with a warm cloth to help clean you up. 

Once the necessary post-sex priorities had been taken care of, the two of you were left cuddling in Jungkook's bed. He had one hand behind his head and the other on your waist as you laid your head on his chest. 

Jungkook didn’t want to ruin anything with you but he was a strong believer in communication. This is why he brought up the sombre thought that plagued his mind for the majority of the summer. “When do you leave?” your head sunk along with his chest as he exhaled heavily. 

You pick your head up to make eye contact, “Is this your way of kicking me out?” His eyes bulged. “No, never. I mean when do you have to go back to Pineley?” Now it was your turn to sigh. Putting your head back to where it was before, beginning to draw small circles on his pecs.  

“Thursday.” 

“Oh.”

That was three days away.

“yeah.” 

This conversation suddenly made your lips feel chapped, “do you have any chapstick?” 

“middle drawer,” he replies, prompting you to roll away from him and check the instructed drawer. Looking for a small tube, instead, you found a journal of sorts. “What’s this?” 

Jungkook sits up with a defeated look on his face. “It’s a present. For you, actually.” Your ears perk at that. “For me?” He nods, “Open it. I was going to give it to you the day you leave but I suppose now works.” The book is still unopened, you tilt your head to the side, confused. 

God, you were so fucking cute.

“Why not just give it to me at the Palooza?” He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth, “About that. I got sucked into some board meeting that day with some important people like state officials and whatever, but I tried to get out of it, believe me.” 

Holding one of his hands in yours, you reassured him that everything was fine. “That sounds like a pretty big deal. It’d be silly for you to blow it off for some dumb event.” 

“It’s not some dumb event and you know it. You talked about the Palooza as if it were heaven on earth, and I was looking forward to going with you.” Your heart swelled. “Yeah, I mean, there’s always next year,” you say and it causes Jungkook to grin. 

“Next year? You sure you won’t forget about me by then?” Playfully you sent a hit to his chest, “Don’t say that. I’m gonna open my present and forget you even said that.” Admittedly he was a little nervous. He wasn’t the best at gift-giving, never knew what exactly to get people. 

Your eyes scanned over the pages as you flipped through them. It was like a flower dictionary. It had all kinds of meanings for all kinds of flowers, but there was something personal about the way the journal was put together.

The paper had a little more texture than you were used to seeing, it must’ve been recycled; but the way the string held together the pages at the top through unevenly sized holes made you wonder. 

“Jungkook, did you make this yourself?” His face was red. “Yeah, I know it’s a little lame but I--” Leaving the book on your lap before you pulled him close by his face and pressed your lips to his, pulling away with a smile. “I love it.” 

--

“Remember to give us a call when you get back, alright?” You hugged your parents tight as they helped load your car will all the stuff you brought 

“I will.” You smile waving goodbye to them as you stood near your car and your parents made their way inside. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t secretly hoping to see Jungkook one last time before you left.

That’s why you were so delighted to see him step out his front door, but not empty-handed. A bouquet of flowers accessorized his right hand as he made his way toward you. 

“You’re here,” Smiling with nothing but teeth as he stopped in front of you. 

“I had to see you before you left, I didn’t want to interrupt.” He gestures to your house which your parents had just walked into. “I got these for you,” Handing you the bouquet of arranged flowers that consisted of pink carnations and white clovers. 

You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time reading Jungkook’s little flower dictionary he had given you which explains why his bouquet nearly moved you to tears just from looking at it. 

You remembered what he had told you in the greenhouse all those weeks ago. 

 “I think that plants have a language of their own. That’s why bouquets are more than just flowers, they’re statements really.”

Pink Carnations: Gratitude, I’ll never forget you. 

White Clovers: Think of me.

“It’ll be impossible to forget you.” Your bodies moved on their own accord. He wrapped his arms around you and yours doing the same, even with the bouquet in hand. It was as if neither of you wanted to pull away but you knew you needed to go. 

“I’ll see you at the next Palooza.” your heart hurt a little to see the sad smile he had on. “Sure, but if you're able to squeeze me into that tight schedule of yours, maybe you could come to visit sometime?” You were nervous, you were proposing more than just Jungkook visiting you in Pineley.

“Like, long distance?” The arch of his brow told you everything you needed to know and you were regretting opening your mouth in the first place, “If you’re up for it?” You begin to make your way toward the driver's side of the car, thanking him for opening it for you. 

Carefully placing the flowers on the passenger seat with Taffy in the back. “I’m certainly willing to try.” There was the grin you were hoping to see on him before you left. Closing the door, and strapping on your seatbelt, Jungkook stepped to the side of the driveway giving you the space you needed to pull out, but you stopped parallel to the sidewalk. 

“See you in Pineley?”  

“See you in Pineley.” He smiles, waving you goodbye before you drove off.

#jungkook #jungkook bts #bts #bts one shot #btsscenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #oneshot #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fluff #fluff #btssmuts #smut #bts smut #Jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook imagine

[taegularities]

colour me in | jjk (m) | masterlist

Jungkook's door only opens for you when there's a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening – and you hope it doesn't close his door forever.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader

➳ genre: fwb, fake dating, college!au; fluff, angst, smut

➳ contents & warnings: artist/fuckboy!JK, annoying parents, endearing friends, lots of smut and fluff, misunderstandings; and more chapter specific warnings! | 18+

➳ current word count: 339.8k

➳ status: ongoing

➳ cmi’s mood: still with you and my you by Jungkook | collaborative playlist 🎶

⁂ CHAPTERS

✩ indicates parts relevant to the story | ❀ indicates fillers/drabbles (can be read as stand alones)

PART I: THE SEEDS

⤞ colour me in (9.8k) ✩ | lowkey by niki

"I need you to be my boyfriend. Please.” “Your what now?”

⤞ cmi: outlines (10.6k) ✩ | slow down by chase atlantic

“If I’m somewhat okay to you, angel... may I kiss you then?”

⤞ cmi: layers (18.4k) ✩ | stay (acoustic) by zedd & alessia cara

“I just want you to know that if I ever put you on a pedestal, it wouldn’t be because of any amount of money you own.”

⤞ cmi: too much (7.2k) ❀ | heavenly by cigarettes after sex

“I think if you wanted to… or tried hard enough, you could break my heart.” “...How?” “I don’t know. I don’t think I wanna find out.”

⤞ cmi: lights (25.2k) ✩ | ruin my life by zara larsson

“You just called me to tell me about the burn?” “Yeah. But I think... also to tell you that I miss you.”

⤞ cmi: the canvas (22.8k) ✩ | with love by christina grimmie

“You’re coloured in now for real, aren’t you?” “Feels more like you’re colouring me in.”

⤞ cmi: not enough (4k) ❀ | this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler

“Those New Year’s Eve parties bore me more than you’d know.” “Why did you come then?” “'Cause... I guess I knew you’d be here.”

PART II: THE GROWING

⤞ cmi: silhouettes (23.7k) ✩ | rumors by sabrina claudio & zayn / kiss me by ed sheeran 

“We've played our parts in this fake thing. But I’m still here, with you. Why?”

⤞ cmi: undying roses (3.3k) ❀ | i can’t fall in love without you by zara larsson

“...You remembered?” “How could I not?”

⤞ cmi: monochrome (21.6k) ✩ | reflections by the neighbourhood

“You didn’t look at me even once, I–” “Because if I do… I’ll break.”

⤞ cmi: letters from the heart (17k) ✩ | jk pov | angels like you by miley cyrus

“And even with Nara, you didn’t behave like this.” “Like what?” “Like… Like you want to go back to how it was.”

⤞ cmi: unhindered (12.2k) ❀ | love on the brain by rihanna

“You came because you want me, and that’s driving you crazy.”

⤞ cmi: blurred (31.7k) ✩ | the only exception by paramore

“I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”

⤞ cmi: blue (30.4k) ✩ | only love (acoustic) by pvris

“It’s easy to lose someone when you open up. It fucking scares me — and it’s never scared me as much as with you.”

⤞ cmi: seven (25k) ❀ | seven by jungkook

“I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

⤞ cmi: redraft (25.3k) ✩ | i need u by yaeow

“You’re… kind of ridiculously amazing. You’re someone who gives all those people hope who don’t believe in humanity anymore. And I admire you in every way.”

PART III: THE BLOSSOMING

⤞ cmi: translucent (35.8) ✩ | say you won’t let go by james arthur

“I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.”

⤞ cmi: blooming (15.6k) ✩ | daylight by taylor swift

“You excite me all the time.”

⤞ cmi: palette (??) ✩ | ?? | next!

??

. . .

and more!

⁂ BONUS

⤞ ask my character; colour me in edition ⤞ cmi theories 💭 | cmi drabble ideas 🖌 | cmi memes 😁  ⤞ character sheet 🧑🏻 ⤞ cmi timeline (spoilers ahead!!) 🕰  ⤞ cmi couple’s dream apartment, art by yaila 🤍  ⤞ cmi moodboard, made by ivi 🤍  ⤞ cmi audio commentary | commentary post 🎙 

⤞ requested drabbles:

frat party; nara & jungkook jealousy; jungkook x reader (ft. taehyung) day out; jungkook x reader jealousy #2 (read cmi5/the canvas first!); jungkook x reader perilla leaf/jealousy #3; jungkook x reader

⤞ FAQ:

When do you update? Randomly! Usually on Fridays around 8PM EST, but I don’t have a schedule for CMI. Whenever a part is done!

How many chapters will CMI have? I haven’t planned out every part yet, so I can’t say for sure. Definitely more than 10, though.

What inspired you to write CMI? Menacing pictures and my lovesick brain 🥲.

What role does Nara play? Jungkook talks about her in the fourth chapter, Lights. More to come later!

What do ‘part I’, ‘part II’ etc. in the masterpost mean? I explained (or tried to explain :D) it here, but the tl;dr version is that the story is divided into 3 arcs. One arc focuses on one main aspect of their relationship (e.g. arc 1 is the beginning; them getting closer).

✒︎ join the taglist! ♡

© 2022–24 taegularities. all rights reserved. Reposting and/or translating is not allowed, even if you credit the story properly.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk fluff #jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐗𝐈.]

summary: "We begin... with a spin."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 16.2k+

warnings: gonna break your heart one last time, Dream is still Dream (reluctantly affectionate)

notes: all good things come to an end : )

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Rule the World (Odyssey Version) by Take That

1:32 ───|────── 4:55

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART ELEVEN: BEYOND.

“Who are you?” 

“I am Destiny of the Endless.”

“And who am I?”

“You are the one who wanders. You will do so until the universe ceases.”

“Why?”

“Because you have been cursed to do so. Because you chose no shackles, no roots. You wished, instead, to roam free. And now you shall.”

“Why?”

“Because all is as it is meant to be, Wanderer.”

“Why?”

“Because you wished to break your destiny. And so you did.”

.

“I knew a lad called Jack Constantine once.”

Book in hand, you step around Hob, licking the dryness from your lips. Copper lingers on your tongue. “Same family.”

He perks up at your subdued comment, arms unfolding from where they rested over his chest.

“Nah, really?” He mulls it over for a moment. “Wait, that actually makes a lot of sense. He was a bit of a twat.”

Johanna sniffs. “Piss off.”

Late evening sun streams through the blinds, bathing the dark wood office in syrupy, golden-brown light. Books and notes lay scattered everywhere you look, each inch utilised fully. Johanna leans her hands on the table, squinting at the grimoire laid open. She’s been chewing on her lip for the last five minutes. That doesn’t bode well. 

“No can do,” Hob replies, hitching his shoulders with a proud smile. “I’m here on strict business.”

Dropping the grimoire Johanna requested on the table, you shoot them both a look, “Are you two done?” Your attention swivels towards the necromancer despite your trembling hands, finding her delicate features pinched. “Can you find Jed Walker?”

She huffs, her brows folding inwards. “You’re asking me to find a needle in a haystack of seven billion, give or take. I’m not a bloody witch. I don’t just cook up locator spells. I deal with demons and the dead.”

Bracing your hand on the table to mirror her, you soften your voice, “I understand what I’m asking for.”

“I’ll need time to figure this out,” she admits tightly. 

Private displeasure colours Johanna’s voice, and you nod in defeat. It’s hard to admit any shortcoming, much less one rooted in one’s power. While Johanna may be more powerful than most mortals can comprehend, it’s not power without gaps. She’s still so young. But, as with all Constantines you’ve known, there now sparks that fiery, stubborn drive, seemingly blazing from within. This is a challenge and one she’s set to overcome. 

“What about the other?” she poses abruptly, turning several pages in the grimoire. Her index finger trails over the yellowed pages, glued to another spell. “Do you have anything of theirs? You said this one has magical protection?”

“It’s conjecture,” you clarify. “But he’s been able to skirt me for over a century, so I’m left with one conclusion.”

Hob whistles under his breath. “A century? Bloody hell, you must be eager to find him.”

Memories flutter to life, birds caught in flight. A tall man with blonde hair, a dangerous smirk, and your blurred reflection dancing across his shaded glasses. Nothing more than a twisted memory that’s all fangs and blood. To file this want under ‘eager’ would be insulting. This specific longing comes with both elation and dread. Horror at what you might discover. This ignorance is no more than a flimsy illusion. You’ve spent the last century following Corinthian’s every crime, experiencing it as if he executed them on you instead. 

“I can’t promise this will work,” Johanna continues, oblivious to your internal struggle. Your attention snags on Hob, who is watching you with deep creases denting his forehead. There’s old, shrewd awareness in how he examines your rumpled appearance. “At best, I might be able to cloak you. Again, locator spells are not my speciality. At all.”

You clear your mind, pushing away from the wooden fixture. “ What if I gave up an object? It’s old, full of history. Would I be able to form a tether?

You’ve seen such spells performed—you know they’re possible and incredibly advantageous when done right. 

Johanna glares down at the grimoire for a beat, silent. Her chin lifts suddenly, her narrow-eyed stare harsh and biting. There’s digging intensity to how she inspects your appearance from head to toe, and you bristle at the probing check. 

“You look like shit,” she says bluntly. “I don’t think you should be doing any tethering to anything.”

Your teeth gnash. “Can it be done, Constantine?”

Tension barbs through the room. Hob sighs, making you even more defensive because you can instinctively tell it’s about to become two against one. “We’re not daft, you know,” he says quietly. “It’s clear you’re unwell.” 

Your eyes flutter shut. Forcing your jaw to relax, you mull over the most palatable way you can deliver this information to them. It’s clear from their wonderfully human determination that they’re not going to let this drop until they have more context. 

“Fine.” Filling your lungs with oxygen, you hold your breath, gathering yourself. How difficult it is to draw oxygen should probably concern you. “Remember how I told you I’ve been experimenting? Well, I’ve exercised a degree of control over the curse. The travelling part, at least. I can force it to take me places I want, but it… costs me. Physically.”

Johanna folds her arms over her chest, humming in consideration. “Cost, eh? How steep?”

These damn Constantines. 

The setting sun warms your cool cheek, and some invisible restraint in you loosens your invisible cast dropping. “Internal injuries. Bleeding, tissue tears, organ failure, haemorrhaging. It heals, but slowly. Excruciatingly so. If I abuse controlled travel too often, I can pass out. Slip into a temporary coma until internal damage heals. Vomiting, mobility issues, dizziness, hallucinations—take your pick.”

You’re avoiding direct eye contact, but utter silence encompasses the office when your words sink in. 

Hob gathers himself first. “Jesus Christ.”

Shrugging, you say, “It’s fine. I’m getting better at controlling it.”

“Which part of that is fine?” Hob’s voice is barbed with horror. “None of that is fine.”

You wish neither of them were looking at you like this. Rattled, aghast, alight with shades of sadness. It's so much easier to handle this when no one is standing there reminding you of the ugly aspects of this curse.

“Can it be done?” you bite out. 

Johanna wipes emotion from her face, stretching out her hand, palm up. “Show me this item.” 

Without a preamble, you hand her the roughened wooden figurine. Your stomach roils at the sight. Desperately your fingers clench and unclench in the folds of your coat, blunt nails biting into your palms. The urge to snatch back the figurine is bone-breaking. 

Johanna rolls the item in her hand, scanning it with eyes that see far beyond its material form. She’s digging deeper into what history—power—the object contains. “It might work,” she muses pensively. “I’ll cloak you, but the spell will have a time limit. The further away you are from me, the shorter the timer will be. Whoever it is won’t see you coming, but I can’t promise you the exact location.”

The grim determination bubbling in your gut answers: “Just get me as close as you can.”

.

Swirls of colours and shapes; loud, jarring noises, spinning, spinning, nails raking through the skin—

“Make it stop, make it stop—”

It doesn’t stop. There’s only colour—sound—sound—breaking—madness. And it doesn’t stop for a very long time.

.

A thousand reflections stare back at you. 

“Coward.”

“Traitor.”

“Murderer.”

“I’m not,” you gasp. “I’m not.”

Do it, do it, do it—

A rat scurries past your arm, disappearing into the hoary mist, and you flinch. 

No matter how loudly you plead for forgiveness, for relief, there’s only endless despair and glass cutting into your palms. 

.

Flower fields. Sunshine. Peace. 

A tall, pale, looming man with twin stars for eyes stands over you. 

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

No reply.

But for the first time since you’ve woken up as you: hope. 

A beautiful dream. 

.

“Who did you say you were again?”

Mighty, leathery wings block out whatever light there once was, the newcomer’s pale hair shining like a halo around their fair face. 

“I am an angel, here to save you,” a benign, soothing voice coos, followed by fingers tracing over your bloodied jawline. “If only you help me.”

“By doing what?” you slur, blood and sweat trickling down your split brow. “By spying on the Endless? On Dream?”

“Do not fear. I alone can protect you. Your purpose is to merely… observe.”

Demons hiss and growl around you, and you flex your newly healed jaw. They broke it four times in succession. So much for talking back. Scorched dirt beneath your feet stains with your congealing blood, and you chuckle. The croaking sound grows in volume until your throat bleeds. 

It’s answer enough. 

Your bones quiver under the sheer power of Morningstar’s displeasure. “Take this one away. Make sure there’s nothing left.”

The demons make good on that order. 

.

Johanna pierces the world map with a letter opener, every inch cutting in with deliberate slowness. Candles flicker, settling after the spell, and you taste the magick at the back of your throat. 

“Georgia, U-S of A,” the necromancer announces, loosening a breath.

“Great,” Hob chirps, his arm brushing against yours. “That’s just brilliant. It’s across the bloody ocean, that is.”

Johnna shoots him a venomous look. “Oh, sorry. Were you hoping for a nice trip down Brighton?”

Hob stares at her blankly in the shadowed office. He turns your way slowly as if mutely asking do you believe her?

You do. You’ve dealt with enough Constantines in your lifetime to ensure their sarcastic, surly nature is no longer a shock. 

“You’re a highly unpleasant woman,” Hob concludes, though no real malice lingers in his tone or bearing. 

“Thank you, Constantine,” you cut in before they can break into another bickering session. “There’s one more thing.”

The brunette rolls her eyes. “Is there now?”

“Magdalene’s Grimoire,” you begin deliberately. Johanna freezes. “I want you to locate it and retrieve it for me.”

Your companions speak simultaneously:

“Why?”

“You believe it has something to do with your curse, don’t you?” 

Ignoring Hob’s incredulous outcry, you nod towards Johanna. Pain twinges suddenly in your core, and your breaths slow until you get a grip on yourself. But it’s slow. Numbing pain laps at your senses for a debilitating minute until it clears once more. The curse wants to drag you in a thousand directions, but you don’t permit it. 

You right yourself again, swallowing over your dry tongue. Your temples throb insistently. 

“I think it’s old—older than people assume and has spells that no mortal should have access to.” You lean towards the map, examining the range letter opener has offered. You’ve been to Georgia several times previously, but long ago. “Roderick Burgess might have gotten lucky, but the mere fact there’s a spell there that can help capture an Endless… I find that curious. Unlike what your records indicate, he was not the first Magus, but he was the last. This means the grimoire has to be with his family—likely his son—or someone relating to them. I’ll pay you.”

Somehow. 

“Are you joking?” Johanna scoffs immediately. “One of the most powerful grimoires known to humanity? I’ll find it for free. Imagine what I could learn from it.”

Your stare glides to her unhurriedly, fixing on her fair complexion. She visibly falters at whatever she spies in your cool regard. “Within reason… and for the good of humanity. Scout's honour.”

Hob squints at her. “You’re not even American.”

“Shut… up,” she mutters, shooting him another nasty look. 

You tug your coat free when it catches on a chair, slotting your hands in your pockets. “Thank you, both of you. Is the spell active?”

“Yes, but it won’t hold long at this distance,” Johanna warns. 

Your attention latches on the wooden figurine on her desk. It’s wrong—it feels so wrong to have it out of your grasp, to feel nothing more than Dream’s pebble warming your hand. You try not to think about him now or your last conversation together. Instead, you focus on the thread woven around your heart, tugging you away and over the ocean. 

“I won’t be back for at least two weeks, but see what you can discover in that time,” you tell them. 

Hob balances on his heels, presenting Johanna with a charming grin. “Well, I guess I ought to help you.”

The sorceress scowls. “I don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs help,” Hob counters.

Levelling them with a fond look, you wordlessly head towards the door while they verbally spar. Your hand briefly braces your chest, feeling the unsteady thud beneath your palm. You’ve been jumping too often, too far, and too rapidly for your body to recover. But just a bit more. Then you can rest. 

You’re almost at the end of a darkened hallway before an urgent voice sounds behind you, accompanied by brisk strides in your direction. 

“Wait, wait…”

You’re not even slightly surprised to hear Hob behind you or feel his fingers wrap around your bicep. Street light filtering through the window paints over his taut features, creating a pronounced tale of two sides. Light and dark. Young and older than anyone can comprehend. Quite fitting for both of you. 

“Take me with you,” Hob says, imploring edge laced beneath his lighthearted manner. It pinches your heart. “You know what they say: two immortals are better than one, eh?”

If things were less dangerous, less volatile, if it were anyone but Corinthian, you would take him up on his offer. You would love nothing more—two immortals going on an adventure. Hob has known the same horrors, similar hardships, countless failures and highs. Together you’re as effortless as breathing, as familiar as old friends meeting after years apart. You’ve felt that kinship with him from the first moment you locked eyes in that overcrowded pub, sitting there soaked and miserable. 

But this is the Corinthian. Even if Hob is the one human with nothing to fear from the nightmare, this goes much deeper. Soul deep. Perhaps deeper still. This conflict is between you, Corinthian, and Dream. It’s always been a tale of three parts, interwoven into a single, unbreakable thread. 

“Hob Gadling, you are a gem,” you say softly, placing your hand on his warm cheek. An unsure smile forms across his mouth. “And maybe one day I will. But this… this is something I must do alone.”

“You don’t, though. You realise that, right?” Hob argues softly, fiercely. “There are people who care about you.”

You think about the Dreaming and its occupants, all the mortals and other beings you’ve encountered in your many travels. Friends and companions who have told you to visit, stay, there is always a place for you here even when they knew you could do no such thing without putting them at risk. You think about the Endless—your becoming and undoing.

Your hand slips away from him, your faint smile hollow. “I do. Two weeks.”

.

The Endless are formidable individually. The raw power holding this universe together, given form and reason. Their realms are kingdoms that put others to shame. You’ve visited plenty by now to draw the unsurprising conclusion. Dealing with each sibling is an exercise in patience, tact, and subtle respect in differing shades. 

Sitting in the same room as seven of them makes you want to crawl out of your skin and run for the hills. You’ve met them individually in the past. There’ve been a handful of occasions where you encountered several simultaneously. But never all together in the same room like this. 

They’re terrible and wonderful and so suffocating in their casual existence that every instinct in your mortal body warns you of one indisputable truth:

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Death shakes her head promptly, giving you a stern glance. “Nonsense, sweetheart,” she asserts. “You’re right where you belong. Isn’t that right, Destiny?”

Destiny of the Endless sits unmoving, only his mouth visible behind his flowing, beige hood. His hand rests on the Book of Destiny, pale but relaxed. Whenever Destiny does move, the chain connecting him to the book rattles through your bones. 

He hosts these family gatherings, though all Endless have equal prominence in this universe and its continuous function. Despite it, from your angle, it appears as if he’s the one at the head of the table. Oldest and certainly the most overwhelming in his sheer aura. It took him a simple swipe of his hand for an additional chair to materialise at the table for you. For his fluttering, eerily silent attendants to lay a plate and glass on either side of you. 

“All is as it should be, sister,” Destiny replies, his voice whistling wind through dry leaves. 

Your pulse beats against the curve of your throat. If your stomach weren’t already empty, you would likely be throwing up right now. 

Death grins brightly, pleased. Her smile is no doubt meant to be reassuring when she angles back towards you. “See, that’s a yes.”

Your words form clumsily on your tongue, “I didn’t mean to impose—”

Sitting on your left, Delirium tightens her grip on you, cutting your words short. Her chair had been dragged towards yours, your arms linked despite the uncomfortable angle. The scent of leather, sweat, and burnt sugar bites into your nostrils. Today, her hair keeps flickering between bright orange, yellow, and neon green. 

“Uhm… impose?” she mutters. Her words flow so swiftly that it’s an effort to keep up. “No, no, imposing to be imposed on, and, um, imposing is impolite. What is impolite?”

“To impose would be impolite, yes.” Your words come out measured. “Like that man. You went into his home.”

“Well, he, well, he wasn’t a very good man.” Delirium’s voice thins, frustration biting into each syllable. On your other side, you sense Destruction turning in your direction. Tension blinks out from Delirium’s lovely features, her different-coloured eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “I made him see colours. Really pretty, pretty colours.”

Yes, she certainly did. You’re hopeful the man received a swift death via villagers, others having no doubt concluded him mad or consorting with devils and demons. As if to illustrate her point, Delirium lightly positions her thumb and index fingers together, forming an O. She giggles, blowing air, and much to your unspoken wonder, multicoloured bubbles float through the air. Some remain bubbles, bloated and bobbing. Others shape into animals and birds. 

“I am not an Endless,” you remind, feeling foolish for doing so. As if anyone could mistake you for one of them. Your eyes briefly skim over each sibling, shifting in your seat for the dozenth time. “I don’t think it’s right for me to be here.”

Despair, sitting opposite to you beside her twin, hoods her eyes. The metal hook on her finger digs into her chin. Blood bubbles beneath the honed metal. “Yes. Mortal.”

Her whispering, thin voice blankets you, and your insides ball up. 

Destruction chuckles on your right, deep and echoing in the dining hall, smoothing over your suddenly chilled, clammy skin. “Sister, do you meet many mortals who live over three hundred years? I see no harm in you being here, dear Wanderer.”

Desire stretches indolently in their seat, candlelight washing over their indescribable features. Scoff ripples from their chest, their chin dropping in their open palm. 

“Right, is anyone else opposed to Wanderer being here?” Desire voices, sweeping a challenging look around the table. When no one speaks, Desire shrugs, arms open at their sides. “See, sweet thing, relax. Have some fruit.”

They pointedly push the fruit basket closer towards you. The fruit does look tasty, and you hadn’t eaten in two days, but don't think you can stomach it right now. 

Dream casts an inpatient glance Destiny’s way. In extravagant robes, Dream Lord appears the most disgruntled with being summoned. “Why are we here, Destiny? You do not call upon the family without a cause.”

Destiny’s answer comes predictably vague: “You are here, brother Dream. That is all.”

Despite your unease to be dropped into their family meeting, annoyance pinpricks you at his words. Always the same ambiguity, always what the book dictates, and never what someone might feel. Destiny is not human. It would be unfair for you to hold any of the Endless to mortal standards. For you to expect them to comprehend sentiments that are so far out of their reach. 

It doesn’t take away from the sting, though. At least this time, the curse was mindful enough to drop you inside Destiny’s stronghold inside the Garden of Forking Ways. Last time, you found yourself helplessly lost inside the boundless maze for weeks. Destiny did nothing to aid you—it was as it was meant to be. You associate him most closely with that wild animal fear and sheer helplessness. You can’t help it. 

“Why the rush?” Desire calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “Eager to get back to another failed relationship, sweet Dream?”

Shadows coil around Dream Lord’s feet, seated between Delirium and Death. You silently question if it’s a purposeful partition. 

“That’s enough from you, sibling,” Dream warns. 

Desire’s lovely mouth spreads into a quick, beaming smile; all teeth bared and tawny eyes aglow with sadistic amusement. A predator having scented blood. “Oh, come on now,” they coo. “We all come here to talk as a family; even lovely Wanderer is present. Yet you think yourself above everything. Your realm, your rules—we’ve heard it all before! You’re oh so dull.”

Despair slumps beside her twin, face downcast. “Dull. Yes, rather dull indeed.”

“And are you perhaps bored, my sibling?” Dream returns, a slight pinch to his imperious features. His voice remains perfectly aloof. From this outsider’s perspective, it’s easy to see why Desire views Dream as supercilious. “Did you run out of adequate ways to amuse yourself?”

Momentarily swallowing down your fear, you slant your head over to one side, “Dream.”

Dream pauses at your drawn, anxious expression. The ignited stars dim, draining away, but the hard slant of his broad shoulders doesn’t drop. 

“Oh, don’t run to his defence.” Desire’s voice is just edging on goading. Their nails tap on the wooden table when they cross their legs, leaning towards you. “This is quite characteristic. Surely you find him just as insufferable as the rest of us?”

Death’s retort is whip-sharp. “Desire. Shut up.”

Others around the table appear calmly accepting. They’ve seen this fight play out in the past a thousand times. While you’ve never demanded reasons for the bad blood between the two Endless, it’s clear it runs deep, a problem stemming from innumerable centuries long since past. And very clearly not a situation for you to get involved in. You’re not naive or arrogant enough to assume you can fix their problems for them. Neither Desire nor Dream seems particularly invested in settling anything, either. 

But inciting like this is dangerous. Desire has never attempted to spark arguments involving you in the past, no matter how spiteful the mood. 

As if mentally arriving at the same conclusion, Destruction’s rumbling words vocalise your unspoken plea: “Do not involve Wanderer in your quarrel, sibling.”

Delirium curls into herself, her legs raised on the chair and pressing into her chest. Her hold on your arm turns near painful. “Arguing, fights, it's not nice, but it… um… that’s not where Desire is supposed to be. It’s um… it’s somewhere else. It’s in Dreams.”

You’re not sure how to decode Delirium’s words. You once believed them to be mindless babbles. Then some phrases would come back to haunt you months or even years later. Whatever caused the turn in Delirium from Delight gave her foresight no other Endless seemed to possess. Save, perhaps, Destiny. 

Desire’s fingers curl beneath their pointed chin. Desire surveys you, then his older brother, with a feline's slowness. “Well, well. Aren’t you two sweet on each other?”

This time, the darkness curling beneath Dream’s chair becomes physical. Visible even to your mortal eye. 

“Cease your poisonous stipulations,” Dream says icily. 

Desire scoffs, dropping back in their seat with a graceful, seductive stretch. Heat encompasses your being, pouring in the crevices of your skin. Desire’s effect is all but impossible to escape this close. 

“Is it not my function, oh dear brother of mine, to sow desire in the hearts of all living things, mortal and otherwise? What are they without their desires?” The Endless straightens just as swiftly, their elbows digging back into the table while they eye you, chin back in their hands. Something cruel and fragmented, endlessly amused, slides through those golden irises—an intent you’ve never seen Desire direct your way until now. “Come, my sweet, doesn’t it get dreary? All those mortals set on your suffering? Surely you have missed the sweet, loving embrace of Desire? I could make you desire anything… even a kiss.”

And then…

The world melts away, and everything once making up your being bows and folds under the power pressing into you. You’re but a child. You are atoms. And you’ve forgotten how terrible their power could be once unleashed. 

There’s only cocoon and darkness and golden, glowing eyes beckoning you, warming you, bewitching you. Your limbs are too far away to control, your will dulled into thin, worn paper—brittle to the touch. Your skin is too hot, and the air in your lungs is insufficient. It feels so good. So good, so good—

Even a kiss, even a kiss, even a kiss—

Your limbs are on strings, tugged in one direction, then another. Distantly, horror chokes you, and you scratch at the walls inside your mind, clawing for some semblance of control, but there’s only a sultry embrace of desire. 

“Desire, no—”

“Stop—”

“Enough.” Something inside your chest trembles at that single word’s sheer, unbridled power. Your numbed senses are clear but not enough to free you. You're trapped, caught on the verge of awareness. “You dare.”

“Now, now, dear Dream. Did I get under your skin? It’s but jest. Lighten up.”

Few stars emerge in your blackened vision, guiding you closer. They urge you forward to safety, but you’re unable to move. It feels good to be here, so good and hot. There’s no pain, only desire and pleasure—

“We do not control mortals, sister-brother. Their will is their own. Release Wanderer.”

Destiny’s tepid command shreds through the heated, desire-filled veil. You return to yourself with a choked gasp, snapping into your tiny mortal body with a painful lurch. It’s overwhelming. Every sense was smothered to such a degree, it’s as if everything is twice as heightened now. 

“Are you insane?” Death snaps. You’ve never heard her this angry until now. There’s always a smile on her face and a playful gleam in her eyes. But you’re too busy shaking to be afraid. “What was that, huh?”

Your hands convulse. Bloody indents line your palms. Your nails must have cut into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You fought. But what can a mortal do when faced with an Endless? You were erased, folded down to nothing. You are nothing. 

Voices melt into one. You’re too shaken to separate them. When some semblance of awareness settles in, you realise how awful these… seconds, minutes, or hours have truly been. 

You’re half straddling Destruction, arms half wrapped around his broad shoulders, your mouth near his neck. Horror liquefies your limbs, rooting you in your spot. Too much—it’s too much. Humiliation leaves you immobile, but Destruction rests his hand between your shoulder blades, his gaze kind and concerned beneath his bunched eyebrows.  

“Are you well?” he asks quietly over the clamour behind you.

Your chin wobbles. Shame lashes your skin. You’ve been used as no more than a puppet to be thrown at him. On him. Like some mindless whore. A witless worshipper, begging for their chosen god’s favour, not understanding what they’re inviting. How the gods are never kind. How they only use and break for their amusement. 

Even though Destruction doesn’t appear angry, you can’t stop yourself from croaking out, “I… I… I’m sorry.”

His sympathetic frown is visible even beneath his thick beard. He cradles you to him but with gentleness indicating how fragile he believes you to be at this moment. “Do not fret. It is quite alright, my friend.”

“Can you…?”

Your words splinter. The burn behind your eyes turns painfully prickly. Destruction’s handsome face creases further. He nods mutely, carefully manoeuvring your body to a standing position. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, steading and hot through your thin robes. His fingers fold slightly, protectively. Your gratitude for his unprompted support is immeasurable. An anchor while your knees shake.

“It was a joke,” Desire calls out over his siblings. “Desire is who I am. It’s all in good fun. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?”

Your shoulders spasm, your back still to them. Your insides churn at the prompt, and you’re unsure if you’re about to be sick, cry, or some horrific mix of both. 

You thought… you were foolish enough to assume… 

How many times have you landed in the Threshold, thrilled to see Desire? How often have you shared jokes, laughs, and peaceful evenings and mornings in the twilight land? What other touch or embrace have you known over three centuries that didn’t end in agony but Desire’s? You’ve told them numerous times you have no preference for any sibling in their family—that you cherish Desire’s company as much as others, perhaps even more so. Because with Desire, you could remember what it’s like to be human—to want and need. 

You had foolishly believed you were friends. 

Now you see the truth. You feel the horrible, numbing heat licking across your flesh—the aftermath of this ultimate betrayal. Desire’s power shimmers on the outskirts of your mind, ready to devour you anew. Rob you of reason and choice. 

“I—you… I trusted you.” Everyone falls silent at your frayed words, scraping through the eerily quiet dining hall. When you rotate clumsily towards them, you look only at Desire. You avoid others. Your humiliation burns too brightly for anything else. “You… just made me feel like nothing. You degraded me. I’m no more than a thing for you to play with.”

Some foreign emotion spasms briefly through Desire’s face—gone in a blink. Their answering smile is so patronising a deeper crack splinters your chest. “Wanderer. Be a good sport. It was simply a bit of fun.”

A bit of fun. 

Desire can be fickle, and it can be cruel. But you’ve forgotten just how cruel they could be. To Desire, this is no more than a practical joke. You’re only a silly mortal. No wonder you don’t get the joke. You’ll get over yourself soon enough. But no one else is laughing or smiling, either. Even Despair in your peripheral remains hunched and mute, typically first to her twin’s defence. 

“Fun.” 

The word shatters something between you the second you voice it. You can see it on Desire’s face. The realisation settling in. There is no regret, no apology. Nor will there ever be. It’s clear from the dismissive curl of Desire’s mouth. They don’t see anything wrong with what just transpired. 

It makes it worse. So much worse. 

“Wanderer, brother Destruction. Sit.”

Destiny’s perfectly poised voice shreds whatever little composure you’ve been clinging onto. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” The accusation rips through the room like wildfire. You shake off Destructions comforting touch, your lungs filling with air and spilling out fire. “You knew Desire was going to do that. That’s the only reason why you permitted me to stay. Do I not suffer every day? Or do you enjoy making me into your little plaything? Have I not been humiliated enough for your amusement?”

Destiny says nothing. 

You shove away from the table with disgust. Your feet tangle before you command your sluggish limbs. Death rise after you immediately.

“Wanderer—”

You flinch away from her extended hand, from all of them. You don’t care what invisible line you may be overstepping. “Don’t touch me,” you spit out. “I never should have stayed.”

Your feet carry you several paces until another, more resounding voice calls, “Wanderer.”

A part of you doesn’t understand why you pause or look back. Dream’s gaze sears into you. Yet you can’t untangle a single thing you see burrowed there. He’s standing as well, his hand flat on the table. Foolishly, you hope he will come after you, say something in defence of you. But Dream is Dream. He’s likely just as clueless about why you took this so badly as others. Perhaps the fury you see glimmering in those starlit eyes is but your imagination. Another pretty lie your sentimental, human heart would be all too happy to convince yourself of. 

He doesn’t move. You pivot away, your shoulders hunching. 

Desire’s chuckle licks at your back, silky and smooth. “So tense, that one. It was only a bit of fun.” 

No one laughs. No one responds. 

Only a bit of fun.

“Take me away, take me away from here,” you sob, stumbling into a shadowed hallway.

For once, the curse listens. 

.

Rivulets of sweat drip down your back. The puddle of blood at your feet is starting to go dark. These observations float from somewhere beyond the dense fog shrouding your mind. It’s so difficult to focus. Wiping across your sweaty forehead, you lean on your arm, breathing deeply. You’ve forgotten how suffocating the humidity could be here in Georgia. 

Mercifully only heat-blurred fields surround you. The vast, open stretch of highway is all you see on either side.

Lights dance in your vision, your ears ringing. Maybe it’s the curse and not the heat. Your limbs obey no command, barely held together by sheer stubborn will to follow the tether pulsing in your chest. The spell’s power is already dimming. You have no choice but to jump. This is your only chance to get to Corinthian first. 

“Come on… come on… I don’t obey you.” Your nails scrape on the heated metal, your head hanging low. “You obey me.”

Your tongue rolls the words clumsily. No matter how much you swallow, more saliva floods your mouth, causing your stomach to cramp. Your knees beg to fold beneath you. Lay down in this tall grass and wait for the inevitable that will never arrive. It’s foolish. Death is far from the worst thing that can befall an individual. It was the very first lesson you learned. 

Digging deeper, you claw and yank on the curse’s power, squeezing it until the bleed becomes physical. Until your limbs rip from one place to another. 

When you settle back into your body, skin stinging, your knees hit the ground immediately. Blood dribbles past your lips, your sweat-covered forehead pressing into the soft dirt. You pant loudly, blood trickling past your cracked lips. Pain is coming from everywhere. Sounds mangle into each other when you attempt to raise your head. Your stomach protests viciously, leaving you dry heaving. Nothing but more blood escapes your body. 

A hotel sign. It’s the first thing you register. You’ve landed near one, practically on it. Your fingernails dig into the dirt as you stumble into a standing position. The tether Johanna’s spell has threaded pulses harder and faster in your chest. There. Corinthian has to be there. 

Cradling your sore midsection, you painstakingly make your way towards the hotel. Relentless heat melts your already nonexistent strength reserves down to nothing. 

Several people glance in your direction when you push through the reception door. In this climate, your attire certainly raises eyebrows, but you remind yourself there’s no way Corinthian can know you’re here this time.

“Can I help you?”

You stumble to a stop, breathing heavily. A man with a tiny hat and a nametag reading Fun Land sits behind a table, his annoyance palpable while he stares at you expectedly. It takes considerable effort to gather the strength required to speak. 

“No.”

You turn to go. 

“Hey, woah! This is a convention-only area. Can’t you read?”

Following the direction the man is gesturing wildly towards, you find a board reading Cereal Convention printed in large, bold letters. The rest blurs, sweat stinging your eyes. You work your jaw. 

“No,” you repeat.

The man’s petulant glare would be comical if you were in a better mood. 

“You can’t go here,” he declares stiffly. 

Your fingers curl weakly, convulsing at your sides. You didn’t come this far to be precluded from finding Corinthian by a goddamn sign. By a cereal convention. Cereal convention. Cereal. At the back of your foggy mind, something nags at you. 

Your brows dip inwards, your gaze slipping towards the man. His bravado stutters, washing away from him. He shrinks backwards the longer you stare at him, his throat working on a gulp. Your lips compress into a stiffer line. Someone brushes behind you, stepping up to the table. Fun Land exhales in audible relief, serving them, pretending he’s too busy to pay you further notice. 

Fine. You’ll find another way. 

Stalking outside, you keep to the shade, leaning into the wall for support. It doesn’t take long to track down the delivery entrance. Every hotel has one, and depending on the time of day, they’re not the best protected. Like right now, in the afternoon, after housekeeping has gone home, leaving only a handful of staff on standby.  

He’s in here somewhere. The hotel corridors melt together. Beige walls and stale, humid air. They warp, smearing together into nothing but sensation. You’re a rat caught inside yet another maze. Sickness churns inside your stomach. 

And then, impossibly, you see him. 

A pale head of golden hair illuminated by washed-out light, his back to you while he strolls ahead and away from you. 

“Corinthian.”

The raspy exhale ricochets. The nightmare stops dead in his tracks. Until this precise second, he wasn’t there, wasn’t real, but with his name, the nightmare becomes a reality. Corridor may separate you, but the spell winks out, confirming your suspicion. 

Aircon buzzes through the long, otherwise vacant corridor. Your heart thunders in your ears. 

Then, Corinthian speaks: “You shouldn’t be here.”

A sob wells in your chest at his drawling, smooth words. Nearly two hundred years you haven’t seen him. Over a century seeking him out, having to live with the ramifications of atrocities he’s been inflicting. And now, here, it’s just you and him. You’re not sure which sensation pulses in you stronger: anger or relief. 

Your mouth quivers, your tongue dragging across your dry, cracked lips. “I searched for you.”

“I know you did,” he replies listlessly, his back still facing you. It hurts, because you were right. He’s been knowingly avoiding you. As if reading your mind, Corinthian raises his hand, and your stomach shrivels when you spot your ring firm on his finger. “I have this to thank you for, but it would seem you found me out anyway. Shame.”

The ring. Of course. 

A small piece of humanity for you to hold. I told you, they’re not all bad. I hope this can help you experience it.

And experience it he did. An essential part of yourself put away in that ring must have given him a sense of your presence nearby. He used your own present against you. 

The Corinthian finally turns to face you, all but unchanged except for his modern hairstyle and refined round shades. You want to say so many things to him that your tongue refuses to work altogether. A great chasm yawns between you, and you have no idea how to bridge it.

“What are you doing?” you ask at last. 

There’s no smirk or sly grin in sight. He’s as closed off as you. Despite his seeming indifference, you read the subtle tension lining Corinthian’s broad shoulders. He can hide from others, trick and lie to them if he pleases, but never you. 

“What I was made to do,” he replies tightly. 

“No. You’re hurting them.”

Corinthian’s jaw locks. “He made me in your image, Wanderer. Now I’m making the world in mine. I thought you’d be proud.”

A disbelieving scoff rips from your chest, burning your windpipe as if acid washed down it. “Proud?” you parrot. “You’re killing them.”

Your harsh condemnation dissolves whatever neutrality remains in the space between you. Prior uncertainty dashes beneath a strain of a century dripping in the blood of innocents. 

“Did they do less to you?” Corinthian’s voice is all nightmare; honeyed, cruel, and seductive. His head tilts playfully to one side. “How often did they torture you? Shun you? Sought to eradicate you? Still you defend them as you did him.”

Your sight muddies, and it takes a shake of your head to clear it. “You can’t punish all for crimes of a few.”

A snarl twists Corinthian’s mouth, his feet carrying him towards you in a measured, prowling stalk. 

“A few? They’re all the same: greedy, selfish, and cruel. The curse reveals. I reflect. They don’t change; they only learn how to hide better.” He pauses, licking his lips as he considers you. Something seems to occur to him, a faint laugh vibrating from his chest. “Do you have any idea how many times I stopped them? Punished them for hurting you? New Orleans in ‘31. Berlin in ‘43. Vienna in ‘55. Seoul in ‘62. Moscow in ‘71. Bangkok in ‘89. New York in ‘00. Why those were all me and then some. I was there. I’ve always been there.”

Each date punctures through you like a stray bullet. Honed and whetted for the single purpose of hurting you in a different sense. A fragmented nightmare. You’ve chased a mirage while the nightmare has spent a century mirroring your steps, keeping you safe from the shadows whenever your paths crossed unbeknownst to you. 

There’ve been times—

You thought you’d caught glimpses of him in decades-long since lost. But unfailingly, you’ve only ever found empty alleyways when you pursued these figments. Eventually, you stopped chasing these mirages. The pain was too great. But it’s never been just your overreactive imagination, has it? He was real. He was there. 

He’s spent a century killing indiscriminately while also keeping you safe. You want to scream at him for the evil he’s committed and cry from sheer relief he hasn’t forgotten you. 

“Then why hide?” you croak, stumbling closer. “Why not speak with me?”

“Oh, come now.” Corinthian clicks his tongue. He turns away, nostrils flaring, then turns to face you again. “You know why. You would have asked me to come back, and for you, I would have.”

His features blur, your words barely audible, “And would that have been so terrible?”

“Come back to what? Dream’s ball and chain?” Acidic words, despite their softness. His rage deflates instantly, a huffing laugh escaping him as if he’s surprised himself with the lapse. “You think he gives a fuck about either of us? He threw you out. You left.”

Indignation flares in your chest. “Not by choice.”

“Then you should have taken me with you. But you left me. All you ever do is play by Dream’s rules. I figured out how to leave the Dreaming back during Dreamfall, but I stayed. Wonder why.”

You have no response to that. You’re left standing there, gaping. For you. Who else? He had no one else there; no other reason to stay other than your presence. 

“So that’s it,” you begin shakily, your words rasping, sniffling. “All this because you believe I chose Dream and his rules over you?”

“What did you do to yourself?”

Corinthian’s voice has gone dreadfully quiet. Fiercely unhappy. Too late, you realise you’re sniffling because blood is dripping from your nose. Clumsily, you swipe the back of your hand over your chin. Crevices in your skin crack with dried blood. 

“It was never a choice, don’t you get it?” you whisper, your words pouring out thick and wet with emotion. “It’s always been you. Always. I was terrified the journey would destroy you. Had I known, I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat.”

Corinthian closes the remaining distance between you, grasping you by the forearms. It’s such a relief to have him near again. You sag into him, trembling. You try to raise your hand to wipe beneath your nose, but your limbs are too stiff to obey. 

“What did you do, Wanderer?” He sounds furious while he examines you, as if only now realising the extent of your deterioration. “What did you do yourself?”

“I had to get to you first,” you tell him. Blood smudges the lapels of his jacket where you grasp it. “Please, you have to stop. They don’t deserve this, Cori.”

He looks disgusted at your words, but your legs fail you before he responds. Corinthian catches you before your knees hit the carpeted ground.

“It hurts.” His words come out hissing, sharp with incredulity. “Why does it hurt?”

Your chin jolts upwards, your bloodstained smile trembling around the edges. “You know why. I’m inside of you. You can’t escape that.”

Neither of you can. You’ll carry him in you until your bitter end, as he will carry you until his. 

“Shh. I got you.” Corinthian tucks you into him when a whimper of pain escapes you. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’m going to set us both free.”

And then, through horror, darkness closes in. 

.

Motion. 

“Who is that?”

A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. 

“Oh, yes. This one is with me. Won’t you be a good girl and share that tidbit with others, so we don’t have any… complications. I appreciate it.”

“But I thought—”

Arms tighten around you possessively—the air coils, suffused with thick tension. 

“Good Doctor. No one touches this one. Or they'll have to deal with me. Personally.” 

Footsteps retreat near instantly, the atmosphere lightening in the absence. You’re resting on something velvety. You have no idea where you are, but you know you’re safe. 

“Cori…”

“Shh, I’ll be back before you know it.” Cold glass touches your lips. When your lips part, soothing water slips into your awaiting mouth. After several mouthfuls, the glass disappears. A cool hand traces your face. “Things will be different real soon, you’ll see.”

You reach blindly, seeking. “Don’t go.”

“Oh, don’t worry. After I’m done, we’ll have a Dreaming of our own.”

Then nothing. 

.

Anchor around your ankle. Plunging, bitter cold water, pressure, pressure, a hand reaching uselessly towards the shrinking light above, then nothing—

.

Ropes bite into your wrists, the pyre is tall, and the crowd jeers with open delight. They throw things at you; some hit, some miss. You don’t know if you hate them or pity them. Both, neither. Sahsin’s face is disgusted, filled with hate. She has positioned herself in front of the throbbing mob. When the fire comes, Sahsin enjoys it. When the fire comes, the agony devours all else—

.

Blank page. 

Blank page.

Blank page.

And beneath, a faint, pulsing power of Endless Destruction. 

“My lord.”

Urgent footsteps head in his direction. Morpheus raises his head, his grip on the tome in his hands white-knuckled.

Loyal Lucienne and a rather familiar figure a step behind her. 

“I apologise for leaving, Lord,” Fiddler’s Green begins, flustered but entreating. “But you must help. He’s killing them.”

.

You awake with a pained gasp. Your head swims, your fingers clumsily seeking purchase. 

An eerily silent hotel room greets you when your hiccuping gasps assuage into a steadier rhythm.  Corinthian is nowhere in sight. You wrench yourself from beneath the comfortable covers, stumbling. You grab your carelessly thrown coat on your way out, shrugging on the familiar weight. At least your vision is clearer than earlier. Pain remains undiminished by your fretful rest. 

The hotel is unnaturally quiet—your nerves prickle. Nothing good ever comes from places where there should be life, being devoid of it. Unease pools in your stomach while you stumble through winding corridors. Where did everyone go?

Outside, twilight has settled over the landscape. Your pace increases, your palms dragging across the walls to keep moving.

You find the reception empty, the convention table barren. Except…

“—a black mirror, made to reflect everything about itself that humanity will not confront. But look at you—”

Your body turns to stone mid-step. There’s no confusing that voice with anyone—the absolute power infused into every deliberate, low syllable. 

With a start, you realise your knees have bent, your coat pooling around your ankles. You’re scared. Dream wasn’t supposed to be here. Not when you’re not there to mediate. Clawing at the walls, you force your legs forward. Your bones quake in protest with each step. 

Shoving into the conference room, you find the room full. Hotel patrons sit in neat rows, their heads bowed and eyes closed. 

Dream of the Endless and the nightmare make for a lonely, contrasting sight on the stage: dark and light. 

Corinthian’s small smile is scornful. “I’m not the problem, Dream.”

“You’re right,” Dream Lord concurs quietly. “This is my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

Dream’s arm lifts in the air between them. You lurch forward, stumbling up the stairs.

“No!”

You let out a dry sob, pushing past Dream to get to the nightmare. The contours of Corinthian’s face have begun dissolving, singed red at the edges, disappearing back into the sand he was fashioned from. 

Corinthian chokes out a breath, grinning widely, grasping your hand. “Hey, trouble—”

His hand in yours crumbles. A wounded, animalistic sound rips from you. There’s a futile, blind attempt to grasp onto his body as it slips between your fingers. Through your arms, and then out of your life. 

“No! No, no.”

Your knees hit the stage so hard the sound is a thunderclap through the hushed room. Sand lays in a golden pile at your feet. A tiny skull containing teeth for eyes is all that remains and—

Your ring. Corinthian’s faint warmth still lingers on the metal. Wet dots fall into the sand. Only then do you register the tears dripping down your face. Followed by speckles of blood. It seems appropriate that, in the end, he should have your blood also. 

Featherlight touch on your shoulder only registers after Dream’s voice floats through your agony: “Wanderer. I am sorry.”

Perhaps under different circumstances, you would have examined this moment closer—Dream Lord, an Endless, on his knees beside you, his voice impossibly soft. Instead, you want to disappear. 

“I know,” you sob, shaking, half leaning towards the ground. If it weren’t for Dream’s grip on you, there’s no doubt in your mind you would collapse right where Corinthian has. Something mangles inside you, far beyond physical. “I know you had to stop him. I… to me… he… to me he’s…”

Everything. 

Dragging your hands desperately through the slippery grains, you gather them in a smaller circle. 

“What are you doing?” 

Dream’s question is uncharacteristically gentle. There’s deeper awareness that a wrong question could shatter you completely. 

Past your raw vocal cords, you only manage: “I—I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him again.”

You’re not sure if you’re coherent enough for him to understand. Each word borders on a pained howl. Black is rapidly devouring your fading vision. Too much. It’s too much. You’re about to explode. Collapse like the nightmare did, utterly undone. 

Several scarlet drops drip into the sand, and Dream sucks in a deep breath beside you, his grip on you tightening. 

“You’re bleeding.”

He doesn’t get a response. Blackness devours you whole. 

.

Recovery takes three weeks. You’re unconscious for the first two. Another week crawls by until you can move again. 

The simple fact that it takes you so long to become functional only confirms that Dream brought back a broken soul into the Dreaming. You’ve survived limbs being severed. Past incidents where your skin was peeled off. But this goes beyond skin deep. 

You haven’t travelled since the incident. The mere thought induces a fresh dose of cramping terror through your system. The curse, wounded and worn, has retreated. Dormant. For now. 

“You mourn him.”

You jump in your spot. Your fingers close protectively over the ring in your hand. Dream steps into your line of sight, his coat fluttering around his lithe figure. His face is slanted away from you, observing the waterfront. You try to hide your surprise at seeing him. 

He’s been… distant these last three weeks. Not cold, but…

Sad. 

There’s no other way to delineate the forlorn stares that seem to follow you. 

“I’m not an idiot. What Corinthian was doing was horrific,” you say dully, tugging on stray blades of grass. 

Fiddler’s Green has returned, taking his post once more. It should make you happy. He apologised personally for his departure, but you understood his reasonings for leaving. Without his creator, Fiddler’s Green wanted to experience what it was like to be human. What right do you have to judge him for such a wish? Yet memory is a cruel mistress—the recollections of the one whose absence is so torturously felt are everywhere. 

“He took lives that were never his to take,” you continue. Anger bites into controlled syllables. “Not to mention his plan to have Rose become the new heart of the Dreaming. Did he realise the universe would have collapsed in on itself? He had to be stopped.”

It was what had awoken you back at the hotel. It’s only later that you learned the extent of Corinthian’s plan. Rose Walker was the vortex. Given enough time, she would have become the centre of the Dreaming, drawing dreams and nightmares to her. And collapsed this universe as a result. Dream would have killed her—it’s the only time the Endless are permitted to take mortal life, if they’re an active threat—but Rose’s grandmother had stepped in last second. A woman who should have been the vortex if it hadn’t been for Dream’s capture. If the sleeping sickness that swept through the waking world had not robbed her of life. 

“But you mourn him still.”

Unequivocal insistence. Your composed mask cracks around the edges. Lying would be pointless. 

“Of course I do,” you exhale, pained. 

Dream’s fingers curl at his side, but he doesn’t look your way. “This was my oversight, Wanderer. Do not bear the guilt for those lost.”

Trees ripple and shiver in the faint breeze. Waterfall roars to your left, while to your right, the dark shores of the Dreaming reflect sunshine like the darkest obsidian. You consider the Dream Lord while he watches the beach with a stony expression. Utterly closed off—same old Dream. 

Deflating, you struggle back onto your feet. 

“Their blood is on my hands, too,” you say, turning to go.

Guilt will follow you no matter what he maintains. 

“Are you departing once more?” he calls out, halting you in your tracks. He’s scrutinising you when you peek his way. “You are not fit for travel.”

Offering a throwaway smile, you shrug. “I’m a rubber ball. I bounce back quickly.”

“Stay until Dreamfall if the curse permits it.” Dream pauses after his brisk request, catching himself with a swallow. Awkwardness permeates the air. “It would mean a great deal to others if you celebrated with them.”

You loosen a reluctant breath, squinting at him. “Do you want me to stay?”

Something shifts between you at the forthright prompt; tightening, warming. Surprise collects in your chest at the fact you dared to ask. But you’re tired of feigning, acting as if you’re both not caught in some bizarre impasse. 

Dream’s lips part softly, his answer a mere exhale, “I would.” 

Light, tingling sensation webs through your chest. You hadn’t expected that. “Under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Answer me something, Morpheus. Truthfully.” With deliberate slowness, you step into his bubble, so close Dream’s lashes flutter as he peers at you. There’s such unbearable weight to his gaze. There’s always been a raging storm brewing there, but this is more. Heavier. “Corinthian was convinced that you made him in my image. Is it true?”

Your jaw sets stubbornly, the nightmare’s name stinging your tongue. Dream’s eyes roam over your features, seeking some unknown truth. You’re not asking about physical similarities, but you permit him this moment. Because he digs deeper, because your heart is in your throat when Dream finally settles on his truth: 

“While I did not recognise it as such at the time, I believe I did.”

You’ve known, been aware of this fact for centuries. Since Corinthian shared his hypothesis, you’ve been unable to scrub it from your mind. But to have confirmation from Dream himself paints many past events in a different light. 

“I made you poorly then… a black mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.” Recalling Dream Lord’s words, you stagger backwards, your mind whirling with thoughts. A startled gasp pushes from your lungs, your attention snapping back to the Endless. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces slot perfectly into place. “I had it all wrong. Corinthian was a manifestation of your anger for what humanity was doing to me. He was to be your mirror, your teacher, so humanity may choose to be better. So they may learn to overcome their darkest impulses.”

Staggering backwards, words escape you in a torrent, “But it went wrong, didn’t it? You gave him too much of that anger—the fury of an Endless and reckless, unshakable defiance of a cursed mortal. You created a masterpiece by giving him too much. By making something that is so much more than just a nightmare. A perfect hybrid between an Endless and a mortal.”

Dream says nothing in response. It’s the only confirmation you need. 

In the end, you stay. But this time, you’re the one who avoids the Dream Lord. 

.

“You’re always welcome in my chambers, sweet Dream. It’s lovely to see you. Can I get you anything you desire?”

Morpheus strolls through the glossy scarlet chambers of his younger sibling’s stronghold. Desire of the Endless curls with each word spoken, stretching indolently across their seat. Loving malice lines planes of Desire’s face, enigmatic and magnetic as their name suggests. 

Dream moves closer. “I desire nothing from you, save some answers.”

Desire pouts, sitting up, their hands in their lap. “Oh? Do tell. I love a test.”

He’s never understood Desire’s love for games. Petulant slights or wish to inflict harm. To manipulate and use. Once…

He supposes it no longer matters what their relationship might have been once—too many years arc between them: too much history and bad blood. Morpheus prowls through the gallery, briefly flicking his attention towards his family’s sigils. 

“Unity Kincaid should have been the vortex of this age. But someone saw fit to take advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex and I would be left with no choice but to kill it.”

A mock gasp escapes Desire’s ruby-painted lips. Their golden eyes blow wide open, startled and innocent, while they monitor Dream. 

“Are you implying I meddled with affairs of another Endless domain, dear brother?” Desire’s pout wobbles when Dream doesn't respond. The faux innocence melts away in a blink, leaving behind nothing but conniving malice, peering back through a hooded stare. “Oh, fine, was I really that obvious?” 

A brief, cool smile touches Dream’s lips, his words coming out frosty, “No. You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Desire tuts, grinning sharply. 

“What did you intend?” Dream heads towards the other Endless unhurriedly. “That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

“This time, it almost worked.” Desire’s grin stretches wider, pleased. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since my little wrangle with lovely Wanderer. How is she, by the way? Still coughing up blood?”

His younger sibling adjusts their position once again, sitting up straighter. Bracing for a fight, Morpheus realises belatedly. This is a sore spot that always elicits a reaction. But this time, Morpheus will not be giving his sibling the satisfaction. He’s observed Desire’s and Wanderer’s relationship—or what little of it remains—long enough to draw his own conclusions. 

“You do not fool me,” Morpheus begins deliberately. The corners of Desire’s mouth tilt downwards slightly. “I know your fickle heart, my sibling, and you resent the fact Wanderer forgives others but not you. But you fail to understand why that same forgiveness has not been extended your way. We of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.”

“Then perhaps I shall pay Wanderer a visit in person.” Desire drags their thumbs over the edge of their lips, sly in their wily deliberation. “I do, after all, wear your face now. But unlike you, I will endeavour to be a far more… devoted lover.”

Wrath kindles in his chest. Morpheus knows. He’s read about your and Desire’s encounter at the shores of the Dreaming while he was locked away. 

He shakes his head. “Still, you fail to see. We are their dolls, Desire. You and Despair, and even poor Delirium, will do well to remember that.”

Desire presents him with a dismissive shrug, their nose wrinkling. “Maybe I don’t understand.”

“No, perhaps you do not,” Morpheus agrees softly. Circling, he slips behind his younger sibling. Desire’s head wrenches backwards, their gulping gasp nearly lost when Morpheus twists the other Endless’ head back, peering down at the blonde coldly. “Then let me tell you something you will understand: mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. You lay a finger on Wanderer, and I will make every circle of Hell feel like kindness by comparison. Do you believe yourself to be strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

Desire forces down a gulp, their breath stuttering at the creeping wrath, “No.”

“No, indeed.” Dropping his hold, Morpheus straightens, his jaw rigid as he stalks away, adding, “Remember this next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs.”

And then he’s gone. 

.

Translucent light kisses your shoulders as you stroll towards the looming stronghold, your hands buried deep in your pockets. Your fingers have turned numb from how tightly you’re clenching them. The impressive, stone-carved statues depicting the seven Endless guide your way. Well, six. You pause by Destruction, the only one facing away, unlike his siblings.

You don’t dare to stray from the path. The likelihood of finding your way out if you get lost in the maze again is non-existent. 

The ruler of this sprawling, eerily silent domain greets you at the foot of the marble staircase. 

“I welcome thee, Wanderer, Roamer of Realms, into my stronghold.”

Even at this distance, Destiny looms so impossibly tall, some forgotten human instinct sparks in a warning.

Undeterred, you halt before the imposing figure, bowing your head. “I greet and thank you for your welcome, Destiny of the Endless.”

Only Destiny’s lower face is visible behind his billowing hood when he speaks in a crackling rasp, “You have arrived here for a single purpose.”

No ifs or buts about it—he knows better than that, the book slotted neatly under his arm. 

“And here I was, ready to ask if you’re surprised to see me,” you shoot back jokingly. Destiny does not smile or construe entertainment from your words. You sober, your attempt at levity now abandoned. “Guess we both know the answer to that. I’m here to share some theories if you have time to spare.”

To your surprise, Destiny slips past you, heading in the direction you came from, deeper into his garden. His footsteps make no sound. His cloak whispers behind him, shimmering in the dim, muted light. On equal footing, you have to crane your head to see him. The devouring dark pooling around the contours of his pallid face reveals nothing beneath the hood, even at your angle.  

“You seek to ask questions for which there are scarce few answers, Wanderer,” Destiny says resolutely. “You are far older than most mortals can comprehend, yet your heart remains stubbornly mortal.”

You set out after him at once, your invisible hackles rising. “In what way? My defiance?”

Destiny does not falter, his pace remaining as steady as lapping waves. “That is not for me to judge.”

The garden is vast and a marvel to behold, but the temperature lingers on that unnatural lukewarmness that gives away how unorthodox this place is. The light is perpetually unfading, gauzy in the corners of your eyes. It’s a confusing, strangely profound place. It’s as if Destiny’s realm contains everything all at once but also nothing. A place of futures to come, lives unlived, and wilted pasts. There’s no point in attempting to unravel it. There’s only uncanny strangeness you’ve come to accept. 

“You will spend time in the realm of each sibling—you will dream, despair, desire, destroy, delight and otherwise, and, eventually, die—but you were his from the very first page, and only he will read how your story comes out, a long time from now.”

Destiny doesn’t pause at your reiteration. There’s no indication he even heard you, but you’re a step behind him. A thousand years of trying to get answers have taught you he would not be entertaining you if this wasn’t heading somewhere. The thought of another scrap of information sets your heart thudding. Haven’t you spent the last two centuries piecing things together? Attempting to confirm your speculations before you came here to confront him with them. Your past attempts may have ended in uniform failure, but today is different. You can feel it.

“You told me that when we first met,” you continue, keeping your nonchalance. You’re no more than a child to him despite your millennia of existence—this is the only way to get him to take you seriously. “When I awoke in your garden, alone and terrified, with no clue as to who I was or what had happened to me. I’ve been thinking about those words ever since.”

Destiny slows, then stops altogether. Your heart climbs to your throat. You've paused by his statue, standing at the foot of polished, pale stone. Destiny’s cloak whispers when he hinges in your direction, anticipatory. He already knows what you will say.

“It was you. You’re the one who did this to me.” 

The clarity that clangs through you with those words shakes your knees. Sucking down more oxygen, you add, “Not directly, maybe. I was cursed by mortal power. This much I know for certain. But you made it possible. You led me to this by the hand. Why?”

And like a dozen times you’ve tried in the past, you expect dismissal, or worse, silence with which he’s punished you often. Destiny would disappear from your sight altogether. His patience and unwillingness to give you clear answers are unmatched. 

But not this time. 

“Because you broke your destiny. Tore it to shreds. Painted it red.” Destiny readjusts the heavy book under his arm. “So you were allocated a new path. One of hardship and pain, but one that may lead you to salvation. Should you tread it mindfully.”

The roar in your head is so loud you barely understand Destiny’s low, equable words. 

“You could have told me this a thousand years ago,” you choke out. 

He remains a perfectly barren canvas, but in the tension pulsing between you, there now whispers a hint of displeasure. Sweat trickles down your nape. 

“I did,” he replies flatly. “But you did not listen. You instead raged and ran, and what came of it?”

Madness and despair. 

Stumbling forward, you bite out, “Why? What did I do? What could prompt eternity of this.”

All this pain for crimes you couldn’t so much as recall. Whatever it was, have you not paid back your dues? Have you not suffered enough to make up for your past?

“Forgetting is the only kindness you’ve ever been spared. Or ever will be. Treat it as such.” Cold needles your spine, and a terrible urge to fold yourself into a ball gnaws on your bones. Destiny’s pitch does not change, nor does his bearing, but it doesn’t need to. “In your quest to break, you reformed into something else.”

Your force down saliva, near choking. “Into what?”

“Challenger of the Unknown.”

Silence envelopes the garden. There’s little to no sound in the Garden of the Forking Ways to begin with, but those words blanket everything. Not even the wind seems to stir. No blade of grass moves. This means something; it means something crucial, but you have no idea what.

“What does that mean?” you beseech. Destiny doesn’t move, nor does he answer. Your voice cracks. “Please just tell me.”

But you already know it’s a lost battle. This is all too familiar—the cold, pitiless silence, utterly unmoved. He’s given you all he’s intended to. 

“I used to think you hated me.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this. Destiny won’t care. Your feet carry you past him. Briefly, you pause by Dream’s statue, then keep going. “More than anyone else in this universe. It wasn’t until Destruction left that I finally understood your position more. It is a burden to know what others don’t but be unable to speak that knowledge.”

There’s no doubt in your mind that Destiny knows where Destruction is. 

The Prodigal’s statue pierces your vision, making you squint into the hazy skies above. Your following words slip out, each lilting with breezy ease: “But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive you for letting Dream rot in a cage for a hundred years when you knew it was coming, when you could have warned him somehow. I know you have a duty, but he’s your brother. However, indirectly you let Dreaming decay—my home. You let humanity suffer. I figured it out, by the way, why it’s a loophole. Why my book exists in the library, but nothing in other dimensions does. Why I can sleep in the Dreaming but not anywhere else.” 

Destiny stands stock still, his bony arms close to his chest, clutching his book. He displays no outward reaction as per usual. It’s a relief to voice your thoughts. You’re utterly terrified of him, but he’s right—your heart is still stubbornly human, as brazen as the Fates accused you of being.  

“Because if my curse was the will of the Endless, if my path—whatever it is—is so tightly bound to your family, then it only makes sense, right?” You’re not looking for a response because Destiny will offer none. “The Dreaming is the only place where aspects of each Endless manifest. It’s a loophole. The curse goes dormant when I’m in the Dreaming because the only thing more powerful than the curse is the combined power of the seven Endless.”

You’ve waited to voice your conclusions for so long, it’s surreal to have spoken them aloud. You might fear Destiny, but not enough to continue as a coward. He can deny it, but you’re confident that’s the reason. It’s the only thing that makes sense. 

“My siblings have gained much from their companionship with you, Wanderer,” Destiny admits. You quell a flinch despite Destiny’s voice retaining its monotonous quality. “But you and I are antitheses of one another. My brother would not be who he is now had he not tasted that helplessness and sorrow. You are the ink and the quilt with which Dream will write his story.”

His words make little to no sense. Dream is… Dream. What could ever influence him? Much less you. He’s changed since his imprisonment, it’s true, but doubt still nestles in your heart. Had the situation with Gault not proven how those attempts to change come undone in a blink? Despite it, Dream is trying, and it’s more than enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight; not any profound version, anyway. 

You wipe across your face, schooling yourself. “I won’t stop trying to save them even if I’m punished further,” you assert. “I’ll always fight for humanity.”

Even over his hood, you feel your gazes clash, burning into one another. 

“I would expect no less,” Destiny assures. 

Squaring your shoulders, you’re halfway between dimensions before a thought occurs to you. “Just one more thing before I go.”

Destiny is as grave as usual, entirely inhuman in his foreboding silence while he waits. 

“It can be broken, can’t it?” you say, scrutinising him closely. “The curse. There are weak spots in its design.”

“That is for you to discover,” he replies, much to your surprise. It’s closer to a yes than a no. “But pay heed. This path will not be forgiving should you wish to pursue it.”

Icy trepidation creeps its claws down your spine. You don’t permit it to show. 

“Nothing in my life has been forgiving,” you say curtly. “I bid you good fortune, Destiny.”

“And I you, Roamer of Realms.”

.

“Happy Dreamfall.”

Slanting your head, you let your chin dig into your shoulder, smiling. You hadn’t seen the Dream Lord since you snuck back into the Dreaming, seemingly no one having noticed your momentary departure. Normally, there are someone’s eyes on you. But only Dream can sense your appearance and disappearance inside the Dreaming itself. So you’ve taken advantage of his absence. You’ve had too much on your mind since your return from visiting Destiny to seek him out yet. 

“Happy Dreamfall,” you say to the Endless, who comes to a halt beside you. “May Fates smile upon you, Dream Lord. And may your realm of dreams be aplenty.”

Behind you, the castle grounds buzz with activity. At long last, things were returning to normal. This is the first cause of celebration these dreams and nightmares had in over a century. Back home, safe and in a place where they belong. You hugged and drank sweet nectars with plenty, smiling and touching hands. Or claws. But it didn’t take long to slip away and settle out here. 

Perched on the castle staircase, you must make for an odd sight, but Gatekeepers straighten back into their patrol positions with Dream’s arrival. You had left the castle to enjoy the darkening skies, the dreams swelling and blinking in the pitch-black canvas, ready for their journey. The Gatekeepers had clustered close, and you had spent a while simply chatting. You’ve missed them. It had been harrowing to witness them turn to stone while Dream was missing.  

“Would you walk with me?” Dream asks.

Wetting your lips, you stand. “Sure.”

Without a preamble, Dream sets out. His gait hovers on ponderous this evening. You’ve gotten used to more hurried, curt interactions between you. Invisible tension stretched tautly. Will-o'-the-wisps dance and sway through the humming evening air. Flowers in your path bloom in different colours, fairy dust sprinkled through the air. You continue on the faintly lit path cutting through the heart of the Dreaming without a word. 

“Are you well?”

Dream’s sudden question shakes you from your peaceful stupor. 

“Busy, but good,” you answer. “And you?”

Dream halts abruptly. You pass him, then do the same, gazing back at him, confused. 

Dream Lord’s pale eyes dig into you. They steal from you, and they give more than words ever could. But this once, Dream also uses his words: “I wish for us to talk as we once did.”

Anxiety pangs through your belly. You hadn’t expected him to point it out. Your lips compress into a stiff, bloodless line. It would be a bald-faced lie to insist something hasn’t broken between you. Corinthian’s unmaking has driven a wedge between you that neither can overcome. The nightmare had to be stopped, but it doesn’t take away from the grief festering in your chest. Most believe grief is an absence, but you’ve found the exact opposite is true. 

Grief is a presence that should be there but isn’t. It’s a weight of memories, of possibilities, of life unlived. Corinthian has become your phantom limb, his absence invisible to all but you as is the bleed.

“We’re getting there,” you say lastly.

His wild hair covers his eyes when his head lowers. Subconsciously, you find yourself stepping towards him, folding your hand around his. Cool and silky to the touch. A breath, and then you feel Dream’s hand curl around yours. He doesn’t move otherwise, muscles sitting in rigid mass beneath his pale skin. 

“Dream,” you call his name gently. “You’re trying. I see that. We’re finding new ways. Now tell me why we’re here.”

Because this path is familiar to you as your own hands. Just over the dark treeline lays the beach. The docks you’ve visited every night in his absence. This path had been your pilgrimage once, and now he’s returned. The fingers folded around yours tighten. Dream wordlessly tugs you with him until soft sand cushions the soles of your shoes. 

“It is a night where anything is possible,” he says knowingly. 

Your heartbeat jumps when he leads you towards the pier, wood creaking under your combined weight. “What are you doing?”

Dream draws you both to a stop halfway across the pier, something close to mischief sparking in his gaze. It’s so bizarrely unwonted you do a doubletake.

“Giving you my present.”

With that, he strides closer. Your mouth dries when he gently curls his arm around your waist. He raises your joint hands, spinning you to the side slowly. Clumsily, your legs obey, your breaths escaping uneven gulps. 

“Are we dancing, Dream Lord?”

Dream bows his head closer to yours, his voice velvet, “We are dancing in starlight, you and I.”

It’s then you feel the tingling, reverent whisper of his power over your body. Your eyes widen when you see faint light needling the sturdy fabric, as if your coat has become no more than a window into the raw cosmos. Galaxies swirl in raging spirals across the once-dark material. Your head snaps to the side while Dream continues spinning you unhurriedly. Your coat is shrinking, reshaping to fit your body even better than it did up to this point. 

“Dream this is…”

The coat settles into actuality. Sparkling dust spills from the material when you shift. Your overcoat has shrunk to kiss just above your knees. More fitted but no less comfortable. And then there’s the way it glimmers like a precious jewel whenever moonlight hits it. 

“I had hoped to give you something more… fitting,” Dream murmurs. You look up at him, your noses almost touching. “It is only right for the one who roams the stars to wear a coat of pure starlight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper shakily. “It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful doesn’t do it justice. The midnight material shimmers with your movement, liquid starlight captured into tangible fabric, and your throat closes up as you examine it further. Dream slips his arm from your waist. He lifts your joint hands, comfortable in his own, and lays a light kiss on your hand.

“It becomes you,” he compliments quietly, releasing you. “Now… it’s time.”

Your brows crease. “Time for what?”

Was this not it? Thick emotions still coat your tongue, lodged deep in your windpipe. But Dream only devours you with quiet intensity. 

Above your head, dreams start raining down in shining beams of light.

“We begin… with a spin.”

Your heart stutters to a stop. Water roars behind Dream, wild spray flying through the air. The faint drizzle beats against your face, leaving you gaping. 

“Dream. I…”

He extends his hand your way. “There is no Dreaming without Wanderer Island. Should you wish it, I would like us to create another.”

Your features crumble, the ball in your throat robbing you of your voice. Indecision holds you captive—on the one hand, you want nothing more, but on another, you’re too afraid. What if it all ends up in the same place? You watching yet another part of you sink into those inky depths. 

But there’s something cautious, near vulnerable, to be found in Dream’s guarded features. It’s an effort for him to open up, but you can see the unsure way his hand hangs in offering between you. He’s bracing himself for rejection, for you to leave him alone on this pier. 

You grasp his proffered hand, fingers winding cautiously around his. Dream’s shoulders slump slightly from their rigid slant, relaxing at the contact. 

He guides you to an all too familiar position. You standing at the edge of the pier, him behind you, a hand on your shoulder. A disconcerting sensation of deja vu falls over you. 

“Describe it to me,” he prompts.

Black, foreboding waters of the Dreaming spin in ferocious whirlpools. Dream’s elegant hand pierces your line of sight, primed for creation. 

“There’s a small island.” Your voice trembles. You haven’t forgotten anything, down to the exact words used. You conjure the Wanderer Island in your mind’s eye as it once stood; brilliant and shining. The visual blooms bold and alive in your mind. “The grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And it tastes like sour apples.”

Dream’s hand on your shoulder squeezes lightly. Same amusement, even centuries later. You’re both changed, but a familiar outline of an island starts taking shape on the horizon. 

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, and trees never shed leaves.” It’s pouring from your mouth now, an avalanche of memory. You’ve missed the island so dearly, and details from five centuries ago come readily. “The sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. And…”

Your heart bleeds, fresh wounds gushing. But you push on because it’s not about you.

“And an old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive. Because not everyone has a family, and not everyone needs a lover, but everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. Only…”

Dream’s lips tickle over the shell of your ear. “… hope.”

And then stillness. 

The water settles in a gurgling slosh. In the distance, a patch of land once again floats. There to welcome new dreamers. Wanderer Island blurs. The heel of your hand presses over your eyes, overwhelmed. 

Blindly, you tug on Dream’s coat; a mute request. Between one inhale and the next, wood underfoot is exchanged for sand. 

Everything is the same down to the last blade of grass and tree composition. Either your vision was so clear Dream could pluck every last detail from your mind or…

Or he remembered the Island with the same clarity as you. 

You sink to your knees. Sand crumbles around your digits when you dip them into the pliable sand. 

“Hi. There you are.”

Nothing, then…

Grass sprouts unprompted around your hand, tiny daisies twining across your thumb. Utterly impossible, yet tonight, here, anything is possible. A choked laugh escapes you. Your cheeks ache from your beaming smile. 

“She’s missed you,” Dream reveals quietly.

Your head lifts in surprise. You stroke the miniature, perfect blooms. “I missed you too.”

With another tickle, the flowers and grass retreat, shrinking into the golden beach. Several moments pass by until you unearth the strength to stand. Dream’s profile greets you. He’s turned away, giving you privacy, but subtle uncertainty lines his features. Sensing your attention, he peers towards you, then past you. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. Despite your verbal gratitude, Dream’s attention remains fixed over your shoulder. “What?”

His low words reach you over the sound of lapping waves. “Are you not going to say hello to an old friend?”

You follow his line of sight. Behind you, at a distance with falling dreams as his backdrop, stands a tall, pale-haired figure. 

Everything inside you falls very, very quiet—all those tumultuous emotions freeze. Your head snaps back to Dream with a stifled gulp. It can’t be real. Surely it’s some mirage, a feedback loop, a ghost conjured from your love for the now-gone nightmare. 

But Dream only slants his head in a marginal, affirming nod. You dare to peek behind you once more. There he stands. The nightmare. Not a twisted joke. 

Your feet carry you towards him without conscious thought; half-running, half-walking, stumbling all the while. Corinthian stands with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders in a slight slouch. His nude-coloured slacks and white shirt shine like beacons in the pale moonlight. Round shades cover his eyes, his blonde strands fluttering in the light breeze. 

He's a figment. Not quite tangible until your body crashes into him, your arms scrambling to hold onto him. “Oh, God!”

Dry, humoured, “Not quite.”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can feel it, if not hear it. A pained, whining sound bubbles up in your throat, gripping him closer.

“I… how…” You wrench yourself back, a horrible thought occurring. You search his handsome features. That infuriating smirk always curling his mouth is absent. “Do you remember me?”

Corinthian stands there, not moving, with no real emotion on display, either. Your heart sinks. Could it be that he—

Dull throb flares across your forehead. He’s flicked you—

A wide, toothy grin stretches across Corinthian’s mouth. “Gotcha.”

With a choked laugh, you punch his shoulder, hugging him close with a wide smile. “I hate you.”

A pleased hum. This time, the nightmare’s arm settles around you. “Hate you more.”

You’re not sure how long you both stand there. When you do part, reluctance keeps your hand on him. Fingertips connecting to some part of him. Remembering the Dream Lord you came here with—who gave you this, his present—you find Dream no longer on the beach. Or anywhere in sight. He’s given you privacy and time. Your heart softens further.  

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Corinthian’s subdued question tugs your attention back towards him. You almost wish he didn’t remind you. Because now you’re faced with the reality that even though he’s been returned to you, there’s much you both need to overcome and fix. That losing him did not magically wipe away the wrongs he’s done. If you hope to return to the relationship you once had, you’ll need time.

You consider him for a moment. 

“You’re always forgiven,” you tell him honestly. 

Standing in the moonglow, you pretend you don’t notice how something coiled tightly seems to loosen inside him at your reassurance. Instead, you reach for his face. Your fingertips brush over Corinthain’s glasses, and his hand snap out, wrapping around your wrist tightly. Bones making up his jaw roll beneath the skin. Tension throbs between you while seconds tick by. Through clenched teeth, Corinthian unwraps his hold finger by finger. 

You tug his shades away from his face. He’s tense as a bowstring, his head slanted at an angle. The same jagged teeth sit where most have eyeballs. They’re hooded, though. His discomfort—and anger at said discomfort—couldn’t be more perspicuous. 

His shades close as you fold arm temples one at a time. You hold his stare, staring right at those jagged teeth with a slight frown. You extend his shades back to him mutely. 

“But my trust is something you will have to earn back,” you state earnestly. 

The nightmare hesitates halfway to reaching for his glasses. Those pale fingers dance over them before he plucks them from you.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” he muses absently. You expect him to put the shades back on, but instead, Corinthian hooks them on his shirt pocket. Turning to go, he calls out a honeyed, “You coming?”

He gazes at you over his shoulder, jagged teeth on full show, and you feel yourself smile.

“Always.”

.

Sun shines luminous and warm today. The Wanderer Island stretches as far as your eye can perceive, teeming with life and greenery around every corner. Flowers and trees bloom everywhere—an awe-inspiring marriage between tropical and temperate climates. The Island once again oozes a sense of magick and wonder that was once so prominent here. No place in the universe can compare.  

“Rebuilding is almost complete,” you begin conversationally. “The Dreaming is more beautiful than ever.”

The Endless keeps pace beside you, a pensive sound rumbling from him. “It was not without aid.”

A smile twitches your lips upwards. “You’re welcome.”

Two weeks have gone by since Dreamfall. Things have mended—between you individually and the atmosphere around the Dreaming. While Corinthian’s return was met with some side glances, no one discussed it further. Dreamfolk trust Dream to make the right decision. Or perhaps Gault was right; they’re wiser than to outright question.  

“The Corinthian has also been making progress,” Dream says. “I am hoping to place him under supervision and monitor his conduct. To make sure what happened is never repeated. Should the need arise, he will be allocated duties back in the waking world.”

Joy flutters in your heart. “Yeah? That’s great. Someone you trust, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“And?” you probe. “Are you going to tell me who or not?”

In your peripheral, Dream inclines in your direction. “Yours.”

You nearly trip. “Dream, I—” You clear your throat, pausing. “Are you sure? It didn’t exactly work out last time.”

Dream’s intent scrutiny slides over your facial features. “It was due to no fault of yours. And this Corinthian is the same in all but one function. He will not fail again. He has a different purpose now.”

There’s a solemn sort of finality about the way he articulates those words. A tiny shiver skitters down your spine. He will not expand further upon those words. Whatever that purpose is, you imagine time will reveal it. 

You chew on your inner cheek. “Okay. I would like that.”

You smile at him. But Dream’s expression stutters, overcome by some foreign emotion. His mouth parts, then closes, his fingers folding into white-knuckled fists. 

Just as you’re about to ask what’s wrong, Dream speaks: “Wanderer. Stay.”

You muster up an uncertain, perplexed smile. “I’m right here.”

Dream marches closer, sunshine caught in his onyx hair. 

“Stay however long you want,” he insists softly. “Stay forever if it should so please you.”

Shock envelops you, freezing you in your spot. You’ve told him, didn’t you? That you would stay forever by his side if only he asked. Now he’s asking. Except confusion and unease battle in your chest. Can you trust his word? Did Dream change enough? He brought back Corinthian. He freed Gault from the Darkness. He insists this is a new age. But…

“And if I wanted to leave?” you question. “If I chose never to return, what then?”

“It would sadden my creations—”

“I’m asking you.”

Dream falters, shackled by your insistence. His lashes flutter, his head lowering in near palpable struggle. You’re challenging him, but you refuse to continue with the charade. If he wants forever, you can’t live with the fear he might change his mind about it. 

“It would pain me, also. A great deal.” He hesitates again, and it’s bizarre because this degree of uncertainty is not something you associate Dream with. “But you are free. You've always been free. The Dreaming is your home. Should you wish to return, its gates will always await you.”

Doubt twists your mouth downwards. “I thought that once—”

“I swear it. No matter what the future may hold. No matter how angry I get, I shall never again take the Dreaming away from you.” Sheer power woven into those words leaves no room for doubt. It’s a vow. He will not break it. There would be a price to pay if he did. Dream’s fingertips ghost over yours, a graze leaving fire in its wake. “I read your book in the library. I did not wish to tell you sooner because I worried you would leave. Because… you were right. I could never understand the sheer devastation. Or the harm I inflicted.”

You drag your hand back, stepping away from him. Dream’s features fall subtly. You face away, giving him your back while you process. Raising the hand he was caressing seconds prior, you cradle it to your chest. Sunshine prickles your cheek, but you ignore it. 

“I’m not ashamed of my past,” you tell him, turning back to face him. “I always knew there was a chance you could read it. So, what did you think?”

He appears pained. At least now you know why he’s been so melancholy these last several weeks. “That I should wish for nothing more than for you to stay by my side.”

Those unadorned words devastated you. 

Smiling through your inflated, overjoyed heart, you mumble, “Stay forever… I can’t technically do that.”

But Dream is unruffled. If anything, you glimpse the beginnings of hope starting to take root in him. 

“I’ll seek a way,” he avows. 

“To what?” An incredulous chuckle escapes you. “Break the curse?”

Destiny’s warning jump back to the forefront of your mind, and you swallow thickly. You don’t dare to ponder freedom for longer than an indulgent moment. 

“Yes,” Dream replies. 

You stare at him. Tall and dark, sunlit and more open than you’ve ever seen him. Determined and golden. Your Dream Lord. He terrifies you. You love him. 

“You can’t interfere,” you remind him emptily. “And I might die.”

“Or you may live,” Dream argues. “Freely. And choose for yourself. Always.”

“Trying to bait me, Dream Lord?”

Sudden tension between you loosens around the edges. Once more, the susurration of the trees trickles into your mind, elevating the brewing anxiety. 

A thousand years. The curse has defined your existence and has kept you alive this long. What are you without it? There’s always been an unspoken acknowledgement that you could never break the curse without dying. Simply too much time has passed. No mortal vessel can survive over a millennium otherwise. When you asked Destiny, it was only to understand more about the nature of the curse. Not because you ever assumed you could survive breaking the curse. 

Dream’s mouth compresses as if he’s attempting not to smile. “I would never.”

“Stay by your side, huh?” you mutter, looking away while you mull over your conversation. “And what exactly would that entail?”

His response is immediate, smooth, “Whatever you wish.”

“A companion, then?” Your words pitch lower and silkier while you close the minimal distance with relaxed, unhurried steps. Dream’s eyes darken a shade. “An emissary? A consort? A queen?”

His black-clad shoulders lift with his inhale. 

“Those are but words,” he murmurs silkily. “For you would be all those things, and more.”

You examine his profile, those starlit irises, the doubt swimming there. Does he doubt you would stay? After such long years harbouring this affection for him? Silly, wonderful anthropomorphic personification. “I’ll stay, but only if you answer a question.”

“Even if the price were a hundred thousand questions, Wanderer, I would pay it gladly. What is this question?”

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinise him. Dream does not balk under your exigent examination, waiting patiently. Biting back a smile, you permit your features to relax. He’s unfairly fun to tease. 

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

Relish bubbles in your chest at the way Dream’s expression comes undone. As if from a thousand questions he was bracing for, nothing could have prepared him for this. Birds chirp a merry tune somewhere in the tree line, a warm breeze ruffling Dream’s dark hair while he gazes at you with utterly confused wonderment. A slight, fond smile curls his lips.  

“A thousand years,” he begins in a bewildered drawl. “And still, you ask the same question.”

You laugh faintly, shrugging. “Well, in all fairness, you never answered me the last time. Which was very rude, by the way—”

In an inhale Dream of the Endless materialises in front of you. His hands slip to hold your face, cupping it with delicate hands as he tugs you closer. His kiss falls over you like stars. Silky, gentle warmth that washes over you with such fervent passion you gasp against his mouth. Your hands grasp onto him blindly. You part only long enough for you to gulp down oxygen before your mouths meet again, and again, and again, burning with need unquenched. Heat spreads through every inch of you. A thousand years being cold, floating unearthed, but now someone is holding you. 

Dream presses another kiss to your mouth, desperate and hungry, gentle in his handling, and you return it with equal enthusiasm, equal need. Dizziness envelops you, and Dream pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. You shudder, a delicious heat licking up your senses. This closeness hurts better than anything ever has. You remind yourself to breathe, to remember this is real, he’s here, holding you, and nothing matters in this moment. Whatever the future holds, you do not fear it. Because Hob was right: there are people out there who love, and that makes all the difference. 

Dream’s thumb grazes over your bunched-up cheek. Your smile is wide enough to light your entire face. 

It continues with a gentle, rasping: “I’ll tell you one day, stardust.”

an:

Never apologise, never explain.

I set out to write nothing more than a fun little story that I expected to have maybe 3-4 parts max. Something entirely self-indulgent and fun for no one but me and maybe one or two mutuals. I never quite expected it would become as beloved as it did. I suppose here, in the end, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who read this and supported it. Be it by commenting, making edits/art for it or just sending me encouraging/funny messages. You guys are the reason this story became what it did. I'm immensely grateful for each and every single one of you. It was a rough month, but I'm glad I could offer you this conclusion at long last. Thank you for being here, thank you for being kind, and thank you again for reading.

Goodnight, and see you all in dreams, wanderers ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #sandman imagine #morpheus imagines #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #sandman fic #fanfiction #sandman netflix #sandman neil gaiman #morpheus fic #dream fic #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me

[viesanterieures]

𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏.

William Killick (The Edge of Love) x Reader

link to Part Two

note: This story is set in May 1936, William is about 27 and it takes place years before the actual movie.

summary: William Killick takes a break from his London life and spends a few weeks at the country estate of the wealthy Hallward family. The family take an instant liking to William and try to get him to marry their beautiful daughter Norma. Also on the estate is the reader, who works as a maid. When William receives anonymous poems, he ends up falling in love with the mysterious writer instead of Norma.

word count: 2000+

warnings: … none!

moodboard

"Excuse me sir, we've reached the end of the line." Yawning, William opened his eyes as he heard a voice behind him and stretched sleepily, curious to see who was speaking to him. A woman in a uniform with a dark skirt and matching hat stood beside him. "Are we there yet... What time is it?" he asked her. "It's just after half past seven, sir," the train attendant replied with a friendly smile. As William straightened up in his seat and then saw that the landscape before him had changed from the brown roofs of London to green hills and beautiful mountain scenery with small lakes. "My God... I must have slept for hours." The train attendant smiled at him kindly and wished him a good journey.

William felt the train slow down and grabbed his suitcase from the luggage rack. Once outside, he set it down on the floor and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and the wind blew through his hair. Although he had never been to this place before, he had the strange feeling that he belonged here. He closed his eyes for a moment. The orange light of the setting sun shone through his eyelids. The green hills of the Scottish Highlands stretched out before him, surrounded by a light mist. Green meadows, colourful flowers and streams dominated the landscape. The sky was cloudless and the air smelled of fresh moss. William could hardly look away. It was so different from London. The grass rustled softly under his shoes as he made his way to his accommodation for the next few weeks.

Curious, he looked up at the big building. It was built entirely of stone, with small windows adorned with red, ivy-covered shutters that glowed in the evening sun. William dragged his suitcase up the stairs that led to a wide wooden door. The muffled sound filled the silence as William knocked on the door. It opened with a squeak to reveal an older, very elegantly dressed lady with shoulder-length curly hair.

"Good evening, you must be our new guest, Mr Killick, aren't you?" Her voice sounded friendly and welcoming. "That’s right. And you must be Margaret Hallward, the owner of the estate," William replied. The lady nodded. "I am. Come in, you must have travelled a long way, sir." William followed her into the warm house. Mrs Hallward disappeared for a moment behind a wooden counter and handed William a key. "Room seven is yours. The dining room is in the basement and the common room is on the second floor. Breakfast is tomorrow from seven to half past eight. YN, would you be so kind as to accompany our guest to his room? And take some of his luggage."

"Of course, Mrs Hallward," a quiet voice sounded behind them, and William turned around curiously. In front of them stood a young woman in a dark red apron and white blouse. William smiled kindly at her. "No, wait, I can carry that," he interrupted her when she tried to take the suitcase off. Shrugging her shoulders, she finally gave up and told William to follow her. They walked along a corridor decorated with old paintings and photos of the country estate and stopped in front of a room door with the number 7.

"Thank you so much, Ma'am," he said, putting the room key in the lock. The young woman smiled and wished him a good night before disappearing without another word.

****

William had slept very well that night. It was probably because he was quite tired from the long journey. When he finally entered the dining room for breakfast, it was already quite full. He took an empty seat at a table where an elderly man was still sitting, reading a newspaper.

"Tea, sir?" It was the young woman again who had shown him his room yesterday. "Yes, thank you“, he said. "What was your name again?"

"YN," she said quietly, and poured some tea into a small cup.

"Beautiful name."

William could clearly see her cheeks turning slightly pink at the words. "Thank you, sir." But they were interrupted by Mrs Hallward, who approached the table with a big smile. "Good morning, Mr Killick! Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, Mrs Hallward," he replied. "I don't think I've slept as well as I did this morning for months. So I'm really going to enjoy my holiday."

"I'm glad to hear that." She laughed. "Oh, I'd like to introduce you to someone, wait a moment." She turned to one of the tables and called out in a loud voice. "Norma! Will you come here, please?"

"Yes, Mother." A woman joined them at the table, she was about a year or two younger than William. She had white-blonde hair, red lips and was wearing an elegant purple dress with ornate embroidery. She was very pretty, William realised.

"Mr Killick, this is my daughter Norma. She lives in Glasgow at the moment, but is here for a few weeks. She grew up at the country estate. If you like, she can show you around the neighbourhood and the town."

"It would be an honour. How about we meet outside the estate at three this afternoon?," Norma chuckled softly as she twirled a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. William was very happy about the Hallward's hospitality and gratefully accepted the offer.

"But now we won't bother you any longer, Mr Killick. Enjoy your breakfast," Mrs Hallward said with a smile as she took Norma's arm and led her away from the table. As they walked, he heard them whispering to each other, catching bits of sentences like 'isn't he lovely' or 'he looks like a prince from a fairytale'.

Slowly, William turned in the direction where YN had last been, but she was gone.

***

William spent the morning in the garden of the country estate, sitting on one of the benches beneath a cherry tree. The weather was warm, and the birds chirped softly in the treetops. Eventually, he closed his book and stood up to return to the house. As he passed one of the large flower beds, he paused. He saw a person sitting there, gardening.

"Nice to see you again, Ms YN," he said kindly. She didn't seem to notice his arrival and jumped when she heard his voice behind her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," William apologised immediately. "It’s alright, sir," she said, turning her attention back to the bed.

"Call me William, please."

She immediately looked at him in surprise. She had never expected that. A gust of wind came up and brushed through William's dark hair, and his bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

"Shall I help you?" he asked her, pointing to the bucket of weeds. She immediately declined his offer. "No, William, you're here on holiday. Not to work." William shrugged. "Anything where I don't have to be in London is a holiday for me. I really love this city, it's my home. But sometimes I really need to go somewhere else." YN nodded briefly. "I've never been to London or any other big city. I imagine it's stressful."

He laughs and shrugs. "I can't deny that it's stressful sometimes." Slowly he knelt down beside her and began to pluck the weeds from the ground in front of him. "You don't have to do that," she said quickly. "It's alright," William replied quietly, continuing to work.

YN laughed. "This has never happened to me before. A guest helping me with my work. If Mrs Hallward finds out, she'll scold me." William smiled a little. "Tell her I did it voluntarily. "You already have enough work." When they were finished, the young woman smiled briefly, then took off her gloves, stood up and reached for the bucket. "I have to go now."

"Wait, don’t you want to stay here a bit longer?" William asked hastily.

"Sorry, I've still got a lot to do. But thank you for helping me, that was very kind of you." She waved goodbye to William and finally turned round. William looked at her for a moment, a bit disappointed. Then he glanced at his pocket watch and flinched. It was ten minutes past three, Norma was probably already waiting for him.

He quickly grabbed his book that was laying in the grass and hurried to the front gate. Norma was waiting there, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he finally greeted her completely out of breath. "Sorry I'm late."

She finally smiled and said in a friendly voice, "It's okay." Her hair was pinned up in an elegant braid, her lipstick was the same colour as the new pastel pink dress she was wearing, and she carried a matching handbag.

"I was in the garden talking to YN. I must have lost track of time."

One of her blonde eyebrows immediately raised again and she looked at him as if he had just said something completely stupid. "You're talking to household staffs? They're working for us, it’s far below our class."

He looked at her, confused. "But why shouldn't I talk to her? She's really nice."

Norma stayed silent, grabbed his arm and pulled him along without a word. She led him through the Scottish Highlands, down a small forest path, until the roofs of houses appeared in the distance. This had to be Tobermory. The air smelled of salty sea and a fresh breeze as they walked along Tobermory's coastal road, lined with colourful houses. High mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in a gentle mist. "Wow, it's beautiful!" marveled William.

"I know, right?" Norma replied giggling, taking his hand and pulling him towards a small café.

"My aunt works there," she said. "She makes the best cakes." They entered the café and sat down on a corner bench by a small window. "Norma, how lovely to see you again." A lady with bright red hair came up to them and pulled her niece into her arms, laughing. When she noticed William, she looked him over from head to toe, smiled and turned back to her niece. "And who is that handsome young man next to you? Did you meet him in Glasgow?" Norma shook her head, laughing. "No. He's a guest of Mother's. She asked me to show him around."

"Oh, how lovely. You know, Norma, it's time you got married. Can I bring you both some of my Dundee cake?" William frowned slightly when she mentioned marriage. Did the Hallwards already see him as their future son in law?

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the little café, William telling Norma about his home in London, his job, his family, and she seemed to be very interested. But William hadn't forgotten her nasty comment about YN. He was torn by Norma.

After they said goodbye that evening, William went to his room tired. In the corridor he saw Mrs Hallward talking excitedly to YN. "You forgot to fluff up the pillows in Room 9! How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped at her in a harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hallward, I..." But she didn't let YN finish, because when she noticed William, she put on a big smile again: "Oh, Mr Killick, how nice to see you. Did you have a nice day with Norma?"

"Yes, I did, thank you for asking," he replied. He looked at YN, but she avoided his gaze, holding a white sheet in her arms.

"You know, Norma is still unmarried and we're still looking for a suitable husband for her. Or do you already have a wife?" Mrs Hallward wanted to know. William shook his head slowly.

"She is such a beautiful young woman. But no man has ever met her standards. You're the first one she has shown interest in", the lady explained to him. "Come, YN, you need to get back to work now, the dishes need to be washed."

"Good night, William," YN said to him as he walked past, nodding to him.

"Good night," he replied.

As soon as he entered his room, he took off his jacket and shirt and yawned softly. He intended to read, but he was so tired that he just wanted to lie down in bed. Suddenly he heard something crunching under his feet and looked down in surprise. There was a small piece of white paper under his shoe. Someone must have slipped it through the gap under his door. He bent down and picked it up carefully. It was no bigger than William's hand, made of good quality and written in black ink.

Holding his breath, William began to read:

𝓣𝓸 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ℐ𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝒶 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒷𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒.

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒.

ℋ𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒.

Confused, he turned the letter over in his hands. Was it from Norma? But she had been with him all afternoon, hadn't she? Who else was writing him poems?

****************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you want a part 2, let me know! 🖤

Masterlist

#cillian murphy #cillian #cillian murphy ff #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #william Killick #william killick fanfiction #the edge of love

[mindshelter]

speaking as someone who wasn't part of the DC fanbase in the 2000s by virtue of being a small child, can you. fucking imagine. what it was like to be a fan of tim and kon back then. nothing huge, they'd be cute together now that they've grown out of their past antagonism and are now the best! of friends! who support each other -- tim assures kon of his own humanity, refers to kon as family. kon, in turn, helps tim shoulder the grief of losing jack and is notably territorial over tim's status as robin. aw, that's sweet--

and then kon fucking dies, as one does. crosses the wrong rainbow bridge. body's going cold by the time tim reaches him. they were his colours.

and then, for the next few years, you're periodically hit with the most deranged content possible. what happens next far, far exceeds whatever inhinged nonsense DC's own timkon fans could have come up with. tim is pretending to be coping well, and a full year later, he is in fact coping so well that he's trying clone or ressurrect kon through any means possible. this brings him (and the titans) in direct opposition against the brotherhood of evil, whose leadership consists of, wait for it, a gay gorilla and his gay lover, a gay brain in a jar. their gay evil goal is to give the brain in a jar a new body so they can live happily ever after. tim is quietly devastated when their attempt at cloning Brain said new body fails. their final appearance in that issue has the Brain quote nietzsche: "there is always some madness in love. but there is also always some reason in madness."

seven (7) pages later, tim's ninety-fifth attempt at remaking kon fails. he starts destroying his lab equipment in a fit of rage. cassie exclaims that even if tim did succeed, it wouldn't really be conner, to which tim says, he'd be close enough. we could make him close enough.

hey tim what the fuck is wrong with you (don't answer that)

absolutely nobody at all, zero people:

DC: this disembodied brain and his boyfriend, a french gorilla named monsieur mallah, mirrors tim's struggle to live without his beloved friend and show tim the futility of trying to bring him back to life

it. it just keeps. just keeps going. no time to catch your breath. my best friend died. i couldn't accept it, tim says melodramatically, a single manly tear rolling down his cheek. i couldn't lose you too. i know it wouldn't have been you, conner, but it would have been something.

and it keeps going. bleeding out. will i see conner? hope so, tim thinks, because his priorities are in order. the rooftop hug. why so happy? let me guess. sale on leather?

if you need me, just yell. i'll hear you. i know you will, conner. and thanks. for what? for believing in me.

elsewhere, a sentient plant makes kon hallucinate his greatest fears and they are, get this,

1. tim not liking him (agh!)

2. tim hating him (agh!)

3. tim dying (agh!)

we haven't even reached you'll always be my robin. you'll always be my clone boy. that's the gratuitous, almost vestigial cherry in top at this point.

... like. imagine being a DC fan pre-infinite crisis and thinking robin and superboy were pretty cute, and had great chemistry, not expecting anything too crazy. and then spending the next five to six years getting repeatedly kicked in the face. i just know those livejournal forums were popping back when adventure comics #3 (2009) dropped

#I dont think enough people know that timkon was compared in canon to a villanous gay couple #that's a real thing that happened how did they come up with this shit #got slightly overshadowed by the lab tantrum in the same issue lmao #dc #timkon #for all the weirdo behaviour both of them lapse into around each other they are delightfully healthy when things are going well lol #this isnt even all of it. Not even Close #comic blogging

[serenitywinter-twe-if]

Demo | Report something | Ko-Fi | Video trailer

[Demo last major update: 28/06/23 |Case 01, Part 01]

[Stonefrey Moodboard]

Solutions : see below.

As a private detective, you were hired for a "simple" missing person's case. 

You were supposed to investigate, find out and be done with it. 

All was fine until, on a sleepless and cliché full-moon night, you stumbled upon a creature you've never expected to find. A monster worth anyone's worst nightmare. A monster holding the key to unravel the case you're investigating.

Your life has taken an unexpected turn after this discovery, how will you manage to face the reality that the supernatural exist after that ? And what will you do when it's revealed that the case is more complex than what you first thought ?

You can choose as you play :

Gender (male, female and non-binary option)(trans-friendly option available) ; 

Pronounces (he, she, they, or  you can personalize  your pronouns);

Name, including aliases and nicknames ;

Background ; 

Appearances (including complexion, hair, eye colour, height,...);

Reactions ;

Fears ;

Timed choices. You can toggle on a setting to allow you to see the timed choices ahead if you need more time to read. Toggling this on will allow you extended time.

Font appearance : the text is available in both : sans-serif fonts (by default), serif, and Open Dyslexic.  

Font size : 80%, 100%, 130% and 150%, to make your reading experience as comfortable as can be.

You can toggle to read with the metric system (default) or use the imperial measurement system (feet). 

Contains sound effect & background music (you can enable and disable the sound from the Settings, by gliding it all the way to the left).

There is a dark mode (by default), a sepia mode and a light mode available ;

Content for mature audiences can be toggled on and off as well. That will not remove the horror features though. 

Trigger warnings are available at each chapter's screen. Or directly via the "Content Warning" link, from the menu; 

Some Romantic Options are gender-selectable, as you play ;

You can choose to romance, date, only be involved physically or not at all with the RO. There are seven way you can interact with the RO : friendly, enemy, neutral, shy love, true love, enemy to lover, or simply lover/physical. 

Poly route available between Yu and Mbaya.  Officially unlockable past case 03. Don't panick before that. 

Locked romance route—or no romance route—would be able to be selected past case 03.  To give you the chance to meet all RO.

Extra story build in game, available past Case 03 here as well.

There are achievements.

To say Elias is a gruff person is to say the least. But you know he has some good will in him behind the non-bothered no nonsense act. He did act to save you, without asking anything in exchange. Though, if you would describe him, you would say he is more like a sulking teddy bear. Yeah, you should probably not say that to him. Elias is probably the only one you're quite certain— not certain, certain, but quite certain — is a human. You have your doubt for the rest of the team. 

"If you think a day can't go shittier than it already is, be my guest."

Appearance : Human, or you can say super-human. 1.97m/6'46. Deep blue sea/cobalt blue eyes. Long white wavy hair (past shoulders). Tanned and weathered  ivory skin. Athletic build with broad shoulders.  3 o clock shadows. 

Has a 4 years old daughter.

[Moodboard]

How could you describe Anya ? Like the mist ? Always shrouded in mystery ? This is her. She is the incarnation of mystery.  She told you she was 31 years old, but you don't really believe the woman. You think she can bewitch the whole city with her smirk, if it's not already the case. But that smirk she puts on her face makes you not trust her that much. Unless it's a question of life and death. Then, probably, you'll consider her help.

"Why work hard when you can work smart ?"

Appearance : A witch, most assuredly. 1.63m/5'34. Hazel eyes. Sultry black hair,  mid-back length. Golden skin. Lithe built.  

[Moodboard]

Miloslav [M] / Mishka [F] / Marcy [NB]

Sheppard seems to be directly in competition with Elias for the title of "Grumpy human of the year".  Though, where Elias appears mostly unbothered in and for all, Sheppard just seems really on edge about everything.  And tense. But you guess it's because of their taxing and demanding work. Or maybe they were just born edgy. It's almost as if their hackles were constantly raised.  But they can be sweet. Somehow.

"Some people are looking for the meaning of life. I'm just looking for what "vacation" means and where I can find it."

Appearance : Not human... 1.78m/5'83. Forest green eyes. Curly auburn hair, cut short. Pale skin with freckles. Athletic build. 

[Moodboard]

Have you already seen in the eyes of someone some age old lost wisdom ? Flowing like crystal clear water from a time where you weren't even born. Something worth admiring. This is what you can see in their eyes.  Despite being a giant, they are a tranquil, very tranquil person. Now that you think about it, you've never seen them eat. Nor drink. This is suspicious. 

"If someone points you the moon, don't stare at the finger."

Appearance : Surely not human. 2.06m/6'76. Sky blue eyes. Long coiled hair, dyed sandy blond (braided with gold thread). Chocolate brown skin. Lithe build. Nose septum piercing. 

[Moodboard]

Yu is, like, the opposite of Mbaya, whilst being almost similar. In front of you stand something from a past long gone. But, instead of tranquility, Yu is a bubbly person. Almost too bubbly.  And you're almost sure that they own at least half the club and bar of  Stonefrey. If not more. Something about the way they move, silently, and almost feline-like, makes you doubt they are human. 

"I'm not saying I don't care. I'm just saying that, if the whole city was about to burn down, I'll still take the time to appreciate my glass of whiskey."

Appearance : Definitely not human. 1.65m/5'61. Black eyes. Dark brown hair (Yi-seo: Shoulder length hair/Yunsu : Ivy league crew cut). Olive skin. Muscular build. 

[Moodboard]

Well. If you could say a word about Owl, you would say that they are dramatic. And fanciful. And they have a flourish for snarking remarks, and seem to have an ego as big as their wardrobe probably is. But what you would say the most is that they are wearing their name well. Owl, for their knowledge. That you could use. If they were on your side, that is, and totally not a wild card. 

"Everyone is such a bore in this city. Well, so long as you owe me — I mean, pay me. And entertain me. Surely this can work, Love."

Appearance : You're not sure. 1.79m/5'9. Verdigris-colored eyes. Wavy platinium blond hair (F. : Chin-length plunging square cut/M. : Styled curtain hairstyle). Fair and flawless skin. 

[Moodboard]

You have met a nightmarish creature, will probably meet vampire, and werewolves — oh, you've met a witch as well. So now, here they are, an elf. Yes, an Elf. Like in Lord of the Things. In the city. With sunglasses. And their impassible way. Iolrath, child of Rivaran and Iltheruyn, they told you, as they were looking around at "mortals and their ways". Nice.

"Why must I say something ? Isn't silence acceptable in a discussion ?"

Appearance : It's very obviously an elf. 1.82m/6'0. Violet eyes. Long silver hair (reach mid-tight ). Shimmery skin. Elvish build of fairness.  Obvious pointed ears. 

[Moodboard]

What is most important is your mental health. This story can deal with heavy themes, and the list will be updated along with the content. If you feel unwell, I'll advise you to stop reading and take a rest. Taking care of you comes first. Reach out to professional if need be.

 You can find the content warning  here and the side bar, directly in game.  

This story currently contains :

Blood

Body horror 

Cannibalism (mention only)

Death and depiction of death (yours as well as others)

Drowning

Gore

Gun and use of gun

Recreational drug and/or alcohol use 

Partial nudity and/or nudity

Psychological horror and disturbing content (including mental illness)

Strong/vulgar Language

Violence and graphic depiction of violence

The story, all names, characters, locations and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Only the first part of Case 01 (chapter 1) is available. There will be at least 8 cases, with no definite length. 

Demo | Report Something | Ko-Fi | Video trailer

[Stonefrey moodboard]

[Demo last major up-date : 28/06/23 |Case01, Part 01]

Case 01 |Part 01 : [1st Keywords] [2nd Keywords]

#twine game #interactive story #detective story #supernatural story #modern story #urban story #itch.io #the ward's eyes

[b7ngt4n]

The Last Remaining | Part 06

-> South Korea was left abandoned after a 'zombie' virus sweeps the nation. Left to save themselves, Y/N and a group of seven men, who she's found safety in, rely on each other to stay alive as they travel to the south side of the country on the hunt for a rumoured 'z-free' haven. But nothing is ever easy. Especially when they find it's not only just zombies they need to watch their backs for.

-> A female reader x BTS zombie apocalypse AU

-> Genre: Post-apocalyptic, action

-> Warnings for Part 6: swearing, violence

-> Word count: 3,208 words

-> Interactions are greatly appreciated xoxo 💖

Part 06: Sensei Jimin🧟

“Are you alright? Did those bastards hurt you? I swear to God if they touched you in any way—”

Jungkook bombarded you with questions as soon as you all sat down to rest at a random intersection, after running at least two blocks away without a break. You were busy trying to catch your breath while Jungkook looked like he barely broke a sweat. You were still in shock and overwhelmed at what you’ve just witnessed. A disturbing doctor, nearly being tricked into eating zombies, cannibalism, the list can go on.

Just seeing Jungkook and being with him healed your soul. You were thankful to be alive and you were thankful he was alive too. So much so you had pulled him into a hug without even thinking about it.

It was one way to immediately shut him up. He stood paralysed, unsure how to breathe, think, or act. When the gears in his brain started to work again, you felt his strong arms wrapped around your waist bringing you closer to his warm body. Jungkook could literally feel your racing heartbeat through your back. And you could feel his through his chest. He was all you needed to remind you life was worth the little things.

“Thank you Kook,” you mumbled into his chest. Hearing you shorten his name like that had him feeling butterflies in his stomach. Only his close friends occasionally called him ‘Kook’, but it hit different coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you call him that ten more times. “Thank you for coming back and saving us. Saving me.”

He leaned his chin on your head, grateful you were safe in his arms, “always.”

“Is everyone okay? Nobody ate the soup, right?” Namjoon asked everyone, hands on his knees as he recharged his physical battery.

You and Jungkook pulled away from each other to join the rest. Everyone replied an exhausted ‘no’ between breaths to Namjoon’s question. You sat down next to Yoongi, checking up on him and thanking him for his rescue mission efforts. Jungkook went to go sit down next to Jin, who had some teasing tricks up his sleeve.

“Jungkook definitely had a spoonful or two. Did anyone see how fast he picked up that bowl?” Jin teased him, playfully nudging him as Jungkook hit him on the shoulder in retaliation. Hoseok and Taehyung bursted out laughing.

“Our Jungkook-ie’s a true gentleman now,” Jimin joined in on the teasing on his brother as the four of them all laughed together. Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. His round cheeks turned a faint rosy pink colour as he met your gaze. You were smiling at him, softly laughing along with the cheeky men. Seeing your smile made him forget he was ever self-conscious.

“Jokes aside, my arm feels like it's going to fall off,” Yoongi groaned, sliding off a chunky army backpack from around his shoulder and ditching it on the ground. He unzipped it to reveal handguns, ammunition, walkie-talkies, and body gear packed inside, "take your pick lady and gentlemen."

The boys were in awe of the different type of gems the duo managed to get their hands on. While they crowded around Yoongi, Namjoon gently pulled you to the side.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he apologised causing a puzzled frown on your face, but before you could ask any questions he continued, "you were right to be suspicious about those missing zombie parts. And I feel very ashamed I shut you down like that. I feel like if I listened to you, maybe we could've avoided that entire thing," he sighed heavily, looking down while burying his head in his hands.

You shook your head in disagreement, "there was no way we could've known any of that was going to happen. So please don't blame yourself," you tried to comfort him, but it did very little. He was still disappointed in himself and remained quiet, lost in deep rumination. That's when you had a thought.

"Who's idea was code purple?" you whispered to him softly after a moment of silence.

He glanced up at you, thinking for a second before answering, "it was mine."

"What's the reasoning behind it?" you asked. Namjoon didn't understand the sudden interrogation behind code purple but he answered your question regardless.

"I made it up in case we ever got split up and had to try find each other again. We decided if that were to ever happen, we just had to trust each other and that it'd all work out somehow and we'd all meet again," he explained to you nonchalantly. It was a very intellectual idea. You admired his sense of foresight.

"I think code purple is what saved us," you told him, giving him a small smile. He stared at you blankly like he didn't get your point, "you saved us Namjoon,” you clarified, emphasising on the 'you,' making sure your message got into his head.

"If you hadn't have set up that system, how could Yoongi and Jungkook have understood the situation? How could they have found us? With breadcrumbs?" you joked sarcastically, making him chuckle, a positive sign your pep talk was getting somewhere, "you make smart moves Namjoon. I understand why they look up to you so much," you referred to 'they' as in the boys. Briefly glancing at them, the younger ones were playing with handguns like they were in an action movie only to get scolded by the older ones.

"Don't let someone who deceived you doubt yourself and your abilities," you patted his shoulder just as Jungkook called you over, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Is he alright?” he whispered lowly into your ear as he kept an anxious eye on his brother.

“He’s fine,” you assured him, reaching out to rub his hand gently, “just needed a little motivation that’s all.”

And as if on cue, Namjoon stepped in to calm an overly excited Taehyung and Jimin from mishandling a gun before he addressed everyone, “it’s time we get the fuck out of here.”

According to a tiny tourist paper map Yoongi found back at the police station, the next city to pass through was Osan. There was no way of making it there before nightfall. And there was no way any one of you wanted to stay another night in Suwon.

Once you all had journeyed as far as the sunlight allowed you to, Namjoon declared to spend the night at an old camping grounds close by. The boys found their confidence levels boosting with every kill they made with their new equipment. It was a bigger upgrade from their last weapons — a rusty axe and pepper spray. You, on the other hand, were still incapable of properly killing a zombie.

The only thing you felt confident using was a taser. It was simple for a simple girl like you. Just aim and tase. But that wouldn’t be very effective if you were ever swarmed. Plus the batteries could run out at any time, making it a very unreliable source.

The only other things you’ve used in the apocalypse have been a baseball bat and your pocket knife — sort of. You used your baseball bat to push away zombies to create enough distance for you to run away rather than kill them. And the only time you used your knife was to threaten Jungkook and Jimin the first time you guys met. Which according to Jungkook didn’t scare them at all. Only the boys have been killing zombies. You, so far, have been a bit useless.

You weren’t proud of it. You were actually embarrassed about it. So when the boys got busy building a fire and trying to catch fish from the nearby lake, you took it upon yourself to get some training in.

About a minute away, you found a good empty space of ground next to the lake to practice your shooting. You weren’t very familiar with guns. You assumed the one you had taken was a handgun, considering it was one of the smaller ones that fit nicely in your hand.

“You got this Y/N, you know what you’re doing” you motivated yourself, trying to convince yourself you had it under control. You held the gun in both your hands, arms fully extended as you aimed at a tree trunk in front of you.

Just as you were trying to adjust to the feel of it and sussing out your aim, you heard a low groan that did not sound so human. Appearing from behind a tree trunk was a thin and very rough looking zombie. Its clothes had been ripped and its blue-ish skin was covered in dirt, perfectly camouflaging into the brown nature. It looked like it’s been lurking in the woods for a while based off the state it was in.

It was still a good distance from you, not in much of a rush to get to you. It gave you enough time to aim at it, making it your very first target. Closing one eye for the most accurate aim, once you were satisfied you could hit him you pulled the trigger. But to your surprise, nothing came out.

You frowned, pulling it again but nothing came out again. And the zombie only came closer, closing the gap between you two.

“Shit! Why won’t it shoot!” you yelled, your frustration getting to you as you prepare to run before it’s too late.

“Turn off the manual safety,” you heard a familiar voice call from behind you, glancing back to find Jimin coming out from the bushes. Before you could yell what safety he quickly specified, “turn down the lever on the left side!”

You didn’t notice it before, the tiny lever on the side of the gun. The zombie was only an arms length away from you as you immediately pulled the trigger without properly aiming. Luckily, the bullet shot right into the zombies chest, killing it for the second time.

“Shit,” you breathed out, panting from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Jimin appeared at your side, shaking his head in disapproval as he slipped the gun out your hands.

“Do I have to start keeping an eye on you missy?” he raised a brow while tucking the gun away in his pants, but not before turning on the manual safety.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as he chuckled at your clumsiness, “I was just getting some training in, no big deal.”

Jimin gave you that ‘are-you-serious?’ look as he placed his hands on his hips, “no big deal but you nearly got yourself killed? Yeah I think we will leave the gun training for later,” he responded sassily making you giggle.

He picked up two long sturdy branches lying on the floor, handing one to you while he kept the other.

“Do you know how to sword fight?”

Of course you didn't know how to sword fight. Just another thing to add to the list of talents you don't have.

Jimin shared he learned kendo for about 8 years when he was younger. He explained to you that it was a form of Japanese martial arts with bamboo swords. It taught him all the basics of sword fighting. He enjoyed the thrill of it, fueling his innocent little dreams of wanting to become a pirate.

As he grew older, so did his love and hobby for sword-fighting. When he became old and mature enough he began to learn kenjutsu and iaido, which were more comprehensive and traditional forms of japanese sword-fighting.

"So you're like a samurai?" you joked as he adjusted your awkward-not-very-samurai-like stance, laughing at your comment.

"I guess so?" he answered, not so sure if he'd ever consider himself to be. But now that he was actually using his sword-fighting skills in the real world, especially to kill, he figured he might actually just qualify.

You spent nearly two hours learning the proper stance, how to hold your 'sword', as well as basic attack and defense techniques. Once you managed to roughly memorise those skills, Jimin decided to put your knowledge to the test by making you spar with him. That's when the sweet and kind Jimin you knew transformed into the merciless sensei you never knew was hiding inside him.

He did not go easy on you. He was very strict, quick to point out when you weren't using the proper stance, or if you weren't hitting him properly, or even if you were being too slow. Nor did he allow you many breaks. He told you it was for your own good, and although you did agree with him, part of you just wanted to collapse on the ground and do nothing for an hour.

By the time Jungkook came to interrupt your training session to inform you both dinner had been cooked, the sun had already set. There was a cool spring breeze in the air that gave you goosebumps, but that didn't bother Jimin's teaching mode. The first thing Jungkook noticed about you was how exhausted you were. But from the brief moment he saw you sparring he could tell you've learned a thing or two.

You were impressed to find a well-lit campfire and grilled fish awaiting you. The boys were huddled around the campfire, sharing bowls they stole from the grounds keeper's cabin between each other. Yoongi stood up, handing you a bowl of grilled fish and what appeared to be vegetable soup.

"Hope it's not too early to be having soup," he laughed with a mouthful of food lodged in his mouth, comfortingly patting your shoulder.

The rest of the night was followed by conversations, laughter, and stories from what life was like before the apocalypse as you all sat around the fireplace. In that brief moment it felt like there no apocalypse to begin with. You actually felt a sense of normality after the longest time of the most bizarre things ever known to man happening to you. It just felt like you were with a group of friends who spontaneously decided to go camping one day. You felt like you've known the boys forever. In a way their presence soothed you. To hear Hoseok's contagious laughter, to listen to Jimin's expressive story-telling, to eat Jin's well-cooked dinner despite the circumstances, and to feel protected by Jungkook. The world could end but as long as you're surrounded by your new friends, you felt like nothing could hurt you.

As the night deepened and the boys dozed off one by one, you on the other hand were wide awake. You had never struggled to fall asleep this much before. Even after twisting and turning your entire body. Maybe it was the uncomfortable hard ground or the chilly breeze against your skin. But you just could not fall asleep.

The only other person who was awake was Jin. He was first in line to stay up and keep watch. You offered to take over his job for him and let him have a sleep. He turned down your offer, keeping you company as you both talked for a bit. Until his eyes became redder and drier, he knew he was losing the battle between him and his self conscious begging him to sleep.

You were lucky the moon was full and shining above you, blessing you with its moonlight. The fire had to be put out before everyone slept to prevent attracting attention from zombies. You used to be terrified of the dark. Yet here you were. Sitting in the dark, outside, in silence, with just yourself. Strangely, it wasn't as scary as you previously believed. Matter of fact, it was somewhat relaxing.

Where you had set up camp was right next to the lake. You left your spot from next to Jungkook and went to sit on the bank, next to the water. The lake was gorgeous under the moonlight, taking your breath away. It reflected the off-white moon, the clusters of stars in the sky, and the silhouette of forest trees on the horizon. You could hear the calming sounds of water, crickets, and frogs croaking. It sounds gross but having a break from hearing the groan of zombies or something being killed was a nice change.

"You still up?"

Jungkook's voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to find him rubbing his eyes as he yawned and stretched his arms, before making himself comfy next to you.

"Couldn't sleep," you sighed, your gaze lingering on the moonlit landscape in front of you.

"I understand that, you've been through quite a lot," he whispered softly. You felt his hand rest on top of yours, his thumb caressing your skin.

You let silence fill the atmosphere. It was somehow the loudest silence you've ever experienced.

"The last time I fell asleep," you started, glancing at him to find his big brown eyes giving you their fullest attention. Even in the dark under the restricted moonlight, you could still see his sparkling eyes, "I woke up and you weren't there."

Jungkook's relaxed expression immediately melted into concern as he pulled you into him without hesitation, "I'm sorry I left you by yourself."

"It's not your fault Kook," you wiggled out his grip to see his face and look him in the eyes, "it's just the shit world we live in. I can't trust this stupid world and the stupid things they do."

You felt ridiculous tearing up as it was just something of the past, but you felt ten times more embarrassed as you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. You couldn't look him in the eye anymore, glancing down as your face turned an angry red in shame.

Jungkook cupped your hot cheeks, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You felt a sense of deja vu, thinking back to the first time you met. Except this time, you didn't try cut his hand off.

"You're right to not trust the world," he muttered, gently pulling you closer to rest his lips on your forehead, giving you a light peck, "but you can trust me, okay? I'll always find a way back to you."

You couldn't say or do anything but just quietly cry in his arms as he comforted you. You aren't sure what came over you. Nor did you understand why you were so attached to Jungkook and why he was so attached to you. Why was he so willing to protect you? To take care of you? And always come back to you as he says? And why do you let him? Was it the lack of love in your life that made you crave his? Was it because your self-conscious felt safe enough around him and the rest of the boys that you've developed an unhealthy attachment to them?

You weren't so sure or understood anything in life anymore. The last thing you remembered before finally drifting off to sleep was Jungkook's body snuggled up close to yours as he gently caressed your hair.

Until you jolted up the next morning to Hoseok's frantic voice piercing your eardrums,

"He's gone!"

(a/n: HERE SHE ISSS after a long weeks hiatus she has returned ladies & gentlemen!! i hope u enjoyed this part. honestly this part is lowk a let down after a weeks absence i’m so sorry like there’s no drama or action 🙄🙄 but don’t worry, as u can tell by my cliffhanger 🤭, the nxt part is for sure going to be more eventful!

i love u all thank u so much for reading n loving this series i rlly enjoy writing this series and can’t wait to write out all my ideas i’ve planned for this series 💖 till nxt time, stay sexy kids xoxo😛😛😘😘)

#bts #bangtan #bts au #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts zombie au #zombie #the last remaining #b7ngt4n #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts v #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts ot7

[hauntedkidpersona]

Once upon a time// Chapter-5

Pairing- Polybts x reader

Summary-Choosing a husband is not easy, but bring in the seven princes and your in a lot of trouble.

Warnings: Duality of humans, Mistress, Y/N is a badass, Detachment issues, Cold behaviour, Strangers to enemies, Nudity, sexual jokes, talks of orgasm (nothing we don't know)

Overview: Life isn't like fairytale. You knew it the moment you reached a ripe age of nineteen. Which meant, your now a women who is in a hurry to be wed and bring prosperity and fame to your Kingdom. For this, you have readily accepted the self-groom event which requires you to select your husband out of all the potential Kings and Princes alike. But what happens when you select, not one. Not two but seven grooms? Chaos.

Masterlist-

A/n- Taglist is open for now.

Tags- @singukieee @shadowyjellyfishfest @inlovewithallmusic @lachimolala22019

The laughter of your maids echoed across the inner quarters, it was a peaceful afternoon. Even though the place outside was burning through the onslaught of the summer, like hot coal it would burn anyone unlucky.

But inside here, you were enjoying the breeze near the kadamba trees that were in full bloom. Looking over the crystal clear pool whose stage was graced in lotuses of all colours- purple being the most dominant.

"She is cheating, Princess." A shrill noise had you turn into the commotion, watching as the maids that littered around for a small play of chausar break into an argument.

Anika glares, "I wasn't, the rules didn't say you could back away your dices."

You sigh, taking measured sips of the cool lemonade. The Sky Palace was breathtaking, made of white marbles. It stood in stark contrast to its name, resembling the sheer vastness of the benevolent King that reins the land you trudge in delight. He sure has taken a great deal out of the small request you had of him.

But who knew your peaceful days would end soon.

Young and naive. That's what your father calls you. But how can one expect a 16 year old to behave like some matured person. Your days were peaceful, passing with the vivid imagination of the books you read. You had no interest in anything, and so you were even described as a lazy wart. For except beauty you possessed no special qualities of a royal. You were pampered and spoiled rotten, throwing tantrums was second nature by now.

But all that changed when you fell for him, the sweet man who would bring all your imagination to life. But who knew he was just a vile human waiting for an opportunity. Which he got.

You shut your eyes tightly, fisting your palms wherein the warm water failed to match the intensity with which your heart burned. You hissed, inspecting the now bloody palm pierced by your nails. The blood swirled into the water, burning through and through. You imagine his blood pouring out as you ruthlessly kill him, without an ounce of mercy. You can't wait to be blessed by his screams of terror, him begging for his life while you get the upper hand. You can't wait until you meet him again.

They were right. When a woman decides to take revenge, even the devil sits down to take lessons.

You have a deal with the King of the Sun Kingdom. You keep the Princes from leaving their duties, while he in return gets you what you want.

Simple as that.

Getting out, you wrap yourself in a towel.

Not waiting to call out Anika to bring your clothes, you walk out. Face stoic and heart made of steel.

"Princess," you somewhat hear Anika gasping at your blatant disregard of modesty.

You look ahead, glaring at Jin who was now looking at you with a wide open mouth. Is that your book in his hand? Did he fucking read it?

The fuck.

Jin couldn't take his eyes off of you. Your wet hair, swirling and parted as it clung to your hips. Your curves being defined but he cursed that cloth that was in between. He can't admire the beauty in front of him. The book and revenge was long forgotten as he spluttered, cheeks flushing in embarassment while you glared at him.

Poisonous, that's what your looks are. Dangerous and deadly, it could kill a man if you chose that body as a weapon of seduction.

"Get. Out. Right. Now." You shouted, partly screamed so loud that he knew the palace guards would be coming to check. Scrambling out of the bed, he almost falls but nonetheless he stands up quickly. Coughing a bit, as he rushes out with prominent red cheeks that burns in shame and embarassment.

"Are you mad, you were almost naked in front of him. Have some shame Princess, what will he think of you?" Anika blabbers as you plop onto your bed, effortlessly hiding your book for which you became so defensive.

"Are you even listening-

You rolled your eyes, the next second, a cloth was strewn right at your face. Knocking you off from the train of thoughts you boarded long time ago. You sit up, furiously, "So what, He is my husband and moreover I don't care. I am confident on my body, whoever sees it will die for it."

Your tone drops, dripping in arrogance. Why not? History is proof of how men kill, die and wage war for beauty. Your a women who knows how to manipulate pathetic men with your charms. You don't shy away by them who eye you in lust, knowing they can't ever have you. Same goes for that Prince Jin. He can watch you but can never have you.

Giving you a solemn look, Anika helps you in dressing. The quiet that follows is suffocating, but your in no hurry to pause it.

Decked in gold, you shimmer at the red robes that make you look lethal. That's what you like to do, terrorize others so they don't overstep their boundaries. With power comes responsibilities and with that, you build walls; too high to climb.

"Princess—" Keeping a hand on your shoulders, Anika turns you around; "You should know that the fire that burns in you will one day burn you too. I know it demands and reckons you to be rude, mean, cold and rebellious. But someday, this fire will burn out and all you will be left with is loneliness. So please try to be nice to the Princes, so that in future you have someone to care for you."

Pushing her hands away, you smile at her. "Loneliness doesn't scare me, people do. For you know what to expect from being alone but you can never say the same for the other. I am not here to make friends, for I have far greater enemies to take care of."

Jin clears his throat, avoiding looking at anyone as he speeds up inside the common place where all of his brothers from another mother gather. Maybe he can find someone free from his duties.

Entering inside the room, he is met with Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook who seem to be busy in their own world. Taking a seat, Jin pours himself a drink and gulps it down in one go. Which did not go unnoticed by them.

"Brother, you look like you ran a marathon." It was Taehyung who takes a jab first, as Yoongi chuckles.

"I did, that witch." He groans, unable to get the image of her out of his mind. You had no shame, whatsoever. Walking like that in front of him. What were you upto? He now knows, why your beauty is praised by all. It was as if you were carved by the celestial beings, and no you weren't petite. You had curves in all the right places and damn that white cloth of yours hid nothing to his imagination. Hiding that body beneath all that robes should be illegal. As soon as that thought arises, he bites his lip upto the point of bleeding.

No way.

He can't fall in your trap. Your purposely seducing him, trying to seperate him from Irene and he won't let you do that. Never.

Sensing whom he was calling witch, Taehyung inquires, "Why, what happened?"

"I saw her naked." He shouts, mad at God knows whom. Him, you or the situation.

Taehyung gasps, as Yoongi who was in the process of enjoying his drink coughs violently. While Jungkook, the innocent lamb's eyes were as wide as saucers. Cheeks tinting a dark shade of red.

After gathering himself, Yoongi and the others bombards him with questions,

"Are you kidding me? How?"

"Damn, It should have been me."

"How-w, I mean did you two do it?"

"What about Irene then?"

Jin sighs, glaring at Taehyung who was accusing him of seeing you like that. It should have been him, not his elder brother.

"Guys, do you think we can do it. I had rather die and she had rather kill me than bed me. As for seeing her naked, she had a cloth wrapped around her. I saw her cause she might have thought nobody was there and came out of the bath in minimal clothing."

Yoongi hums, not interested in knowing anything. While Taehyung smirks, clearly amused.

Entering inside the royal library, you heave a sigh. But that quickly changes when you see no guards on sight, where are they? Lacking on their duties like this. Shameful. Going inside, you frown. You can feel it in your gut, something isn't right. The silence being far more merciless than you. You look around, the sun rays exuding rays across the large windows that keep it's brilliance intact. You keep walking, your footsteps being the only companion.

A rustle, snaps you as you strike; pulling the stranger hiding behind the shelves as your knife is freed from your robes and clutched against the intruder's throat in blatant disregard of their life. You press it, drawing blood that takes a coppery path along the pale skin of that women.

Irene.

She screams, flailing against your arms but it was futile. "Leave me, Prince- someone save me."

"Shh, damsel in distress. From when your allowed inside the royal library huh? Who gave you the permission and the audacity?" You push back the knife, grabbing her chin harshly. You bring her close, nails digging into her flesh.

Irene flails grabbing her hands to free herself, "Prince gave me permission."

You smirk, "But the King told you to stay far away then how dare you to have the courage to spread your whore legs inside my quarters and on my bed bitch. Tell me, from where this defiance comes. Let me end that for once and all." She hissed. You were so done with her. You push her away, as you continue; "Get this in your damn head. If you love Prince Jin so much than stay where your put. Don't try to meddle in affairs your not allowed to. Your just his mistress, so don't try to anger me otherwise I would have you thrown out of the Palace faster than you spread that damn legs of yours."

Irene glares at you, "That will only happen if you come out alive, Prince loves me and it's you who has to get out of here."

"Oh Finally, I was waiting for when you drop the act and now here we are." You laugh, her empty threats not stirring you in the slightest.

Having enough, Irene raises her hand to slap you but your reflexes ground her, holding her hand you attack her eyes, stopping mere inces away. Her eyes widen in fear, as she stands in absolute terror. "One wrong move, and I will kill you."

She trembles, "You call me a whore but the real slut is you who has seven men as her husband's."

"Atleast I am not running behind other's husband. Poor you, living as Mistress and already soiled and ruined. If in future the Prince leaves you-" You mock her, hitting a nerve when she grits her teeth.

"What's happening here?" A voice thunders, as you quickly back away. Bowing down to the King that strides in with his guards on tail. Beside you Irene defiantly falls on the ground, disregarding all your warnings. Such an actor.

"My King, Princess hurt me. She wants to kill me, please save me." She wails, as you cringe at her act. Wrong move women.

The King raises an eyebrow, looking at you who shakes her head. She is really looking for trouble. Testing your patience, all because she was the beloved of Jin. You internally smirk, you will let her know today who holds the real power. Enough of the drama.

Hearing the commotion, Prince Namjoon and Prince Hoseok also arrive at the scene.

"Is it true?" King looks at you, as you feel the gaze of others burning upon you.

"Why would I? She is Nobody. It's actually her who thought it would be nice to fuck my husband in front of me. My King, she was inside my inner quarters the other day and she dared to soil my bed alongside Prince Jin. I was just warning her not to push her luck. And lastly, I have to defend myself if someone tries to raise their hands on me." You speak, keeping your mind calm and tone strict.

You didn't want to bring their act up but she left you with no options. If in future, she wishes to harm you than its better if you steer clear of her. For proof you called for the maids and guards that were present while this happened. They gave the same reply, even revealing your act of burning the sheets and everything that had soiled your room.

Irene gasps, "No, she is lying My King. Believe me."

"And If you had a problem then why didn't you say it the moment it happened? Why wait for now?" Namjoon interjects, clearly supporting Irene. You scoff.

Another thorn on way. Very well.

You smile at him, "I wanted to have peace with the Mistress of my husband but she clearly doesn't want that. Instead she is showing her powers, acting on wimp just because Prince Jin supports her. No maid is allowed inside the royal library, unless they are cleaning it and yet here she was. I warned her to stay in her place and in return she threatened to unalive me. Just because Prince Jin loves her." You mock, eyes glaring down at the women who refuses to look up. But judging by how tightly she is fisting her hand, you know she is furious. What a sight to see.

Hoseok looks astonished, "You threatened to kill the Princess, Irene? Is that true?"

Irene shakes her head, but that all stops when the King speaks, "Enough, you crossed your limits today. Guards, throw her out for she dared to raise a hand on a royal and moreover she had the audacity to enter the inner quarters of the future Queen. Going as far as threatening her—" he paused, looking down at the women his son dares to love, "But not before whipping her 200 times."

Just then, you heard hurried footsteps. Looking up, your met with a furious Jin and behind him an equally mad Yoongi who is accompanied by other Princes. "Father, leave Irene. She did nothing." Rushing towards her, he is about to take her in his arms but is stopped abruptly by the King who shows him a hand that clearly indicates him to stay right where he is.

"My decision is final. She is nothing but a servant slash Mistress. As far as I know, the law doesn't allow servants to attack Royals which she did and you even brought her to your wife's chambers to—" he stops, taking a deep breath to calm down the fury which is eager to erupt on his elder son. "—Shameless. Your blinded by her, how would you know what she does huh? Guards take her out, and If the Prince does something behind my back then kill the cause. Once and for all."

It was as if ice cold water was smacked against Jin who stared at his father with a blank look. Irene is taken by guards, while you try hard not to fidget. You know Jin won't leave you for this. Never. And damn you for not stopping the punishment of Irene. Your mind berates you. Jin used to spend the night at Irene's and in return you had a peaceful sleep.

But now your doomed.

Tch. Gone was your peaceful sleep. Better keep an eye on this raging Bull who might kill you in sleep.

The commotion soon dies down, as the King is escorted out. You also join him, cause only a fool will stay inside with seven wolves who are waiting to rip you apart. Anika would have your head for this. She told you to befriend the Princes but here you are, already making more enemies.

It's night by the time your done with your royal duties. Your returning to your quarters, limbs aching for some relief. Anika has found you, and she is berating you for the chaos that you didn't cause. You ignore her.

A maid rushes to you, "Princess, please do something. Prince Jin has gone mad and is destroying everything inside the inner quarters. He is also very drunk."

You sigh, nodding at her as you step inside your chamber. Not before ordering others to stay outside. The door is closed behind you, as you walk towards the man who throws the jug of water across the room with a force that cracks it in half.

Sensing your presence, Jin grins like a maniac.

"I was waiting for you."

You frown, already hating the stench of alcohol that graces you the second he moves close. Backing away, you maintain a dignified distance for you know Jin is not in his right mind.

Getting hurt is the last thing in your mind, especially when your dead tired.

Looking down, you show respect for the Prince. "Sorry, but we will talk later."

"You—," Jin comes to grab you, but before that you attack his pressure point. Knocking him out cold.

Going limp, Jin tumbles down. But before he reaches the rock hard ground, you grab him and pull him up.

Daylight comes as a fresh ocean current carrying birdsong and the aroma of petals, her rays deep-soaked in the love and laughter of the ages. But to Jin, it was like a wake up call for the pounding headache that he feels. Groaning, he turns around the soft bed. Opening his eyes, he is met with the unfamiliar room. It suddenly clicks.

Getting up, he is furious to know that you knocked him out. The whole room is back to how it was- neat, elegant and serene. Unlike the destruction that he matted out in drunk stupor.

He will kill you today for sure.

#bts smut #poly bts #seokjin x you #slight yandere #bts #taehyung x reader #jimin x you #jungkook x reader #namjoon x you #yoongi x you #hoseok x you #historical

[stcverogers]

JANUARY FIC RECS!

fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of january

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

BUCKY BARNES

F: how's your head? by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky you and bucky didn't exactly have a meet-cute. your first encounter is you bleeding from your head.

F: bucky being shy around a girl he likes + part 2 by @ro-is-struggling

F + A: through his eyes by @sebbytrash 𖥻 ever since bucky came to the compound, he always thought you were familiar. when he slowly regains his memories as the winter soldier, he is horrified.

F: pastel colours by @the-canary 𖥻 mr barnes, the physics teacher, seems to have a thing for stealing pens. you, an avid stationary collector, cannot stand it.

F + A: caught in the fire by @dreamwritesimagines 𖥻 growing up in a bakery right in the middle of a mob neutral zone, it’s no surprise you and bucky barnes become the best of friends. life gets in the way and you facing circumstances. whether you let bucky stand by you through it all is up to you.

A: say it by @sgtjbuccky 𖥻 you love bucky with all that you have. sacrificing yourself to save him included.

F + A: the new recruit by @angstysebfan 𖥻 you and bucky were in a good place. a new recruit to shields threatens to take it all away

F + A: picture perfect by @writingsoftheloser 𖥻 you're steve's fake girlfriend to help make his crush jealous. you meet his best friend and fall in love with him. all while trying to keep up your facade with steve.

F + A: something domestic by @fandoms-writings 𖥻 a majority of bucky's adult life has been dedicated to the military. losing an arm and being discharged leaves bucky to try and rediscover who he is, even if it meant living a hundred miles away from the city in the middle of nowhere.

F + A: heart of glass by @buckybabesonly you and bucky rarely had disagreements, let alone he be angry at you.

F + A: accidentally in love by @creativebeang 𖥻 sargeant barnes was a complete hardass. he always had something to critique you about. a mission gone wrong flips a switch in his head and suddenly he's all over you.

F + A: the ask out by @delaber bucky barnes is no longer the charming boytoy he once was. it's completely evident in his interaction with you.

F: old fashioned by @demxters bucky was traditional, old fashioned, nothing like other men of current times.

F + A: personal ghosts by @fandoms-writings you lose bucky to the snap and he presence looms over you even after he's gone

F + A: they don't know you the way i do by @themorningsunshine bucky overhears a conversation between a few agents, agreeing with what they have to say about him.

A: out of time by @drailyter all good things must come to an end, your relationship included

F + A: the outbreak + part 2 by @stxrvel in your head, a self sacrifice is nothing as compared to a successful mission. bucky thinks differently and it causes your friendship with him to crumble.

F: missed you by @stuckylaufeyson bucky comes home from work missing you more than usual.

F + A: relationship tutor by @samingtonwilson 𖥻 bucky is infatuated with natasha rudolph, who you happen to know from your yoga class. you reluctantly agree to be his wingwoman.

F + A: looking for a heartbeat by @justreadingfics 𖥻 you left without a word 2 years ago to finally pursue what you have been searching for your whole life. you're back in new york now and it seems that bucky's long moved on from you

F + A: vacant mirrors by @whirlybirbs 𖥻 the blip chipped away at everyone. you were no different. dr hart shares an office with fellow therapist dr raynor. this meant that you shared a waiting room with one james buchanan barnes.

F + A: time after time by @justsomebucky 𖥻 at just seven years old, your parents got divorced. you move in next door to the barnes family. it's only right that you became friends with bucky.

F + A: until his last breath by @witchywithwhiskey bucky comforts you after a break up with your long-term boyfriend.

AARON HOTCHNER

F: mess of mine + i'm a mess but by @hotchgirlsummer you are far from SSA hotchner's type. he usually goes for those older, mature. not adorably clueless women who work at a clothes shop.

F + A: 'tis the season by @happiest-hotch 𖥻 hotch needs his family to get off his back when he visits them for the holidays. you come up with the terrible idea of being his fake-date. what's worse? you have feelings for him.

F: the mark of a lover by @wildflowerluver aaron hotchner is not a touchy person. the five times hotch has to adjust to your physical affection and the one time he embraces it

THE BATMAN

F + A: all for us by @the-daydreaming-show 𖥻 jason's death had been tragic for the waynes. you will do whatever it takes for you to be the happy family you once were.

F + A: one bad day... by @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all 𖥻 bruce refuses to avenge jason's death due to his moral code. you, however, do not share the same morals as him.

S: the billionaire affair by @kaleidoscopewritings19 𖥻 you and bruce rekindle an old flame, despite being married.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne fluff #claire’s fic recs

[elapugh]

Birthday surprise

florence pugh x reader

tags: fluff, soft

summary: it's Florence's birthday and you and she are celebrating together.

warning: english is not my first language so forgive any mistakes.

word count: 515

note: This is just a beautiful idea that I had developed into a kind of concept. If you have any plots, feel free to send me a message, I'd really appreciate it! That's it, enjoy!!

♡

It was Florence's birthday. January 3rd and it was still cold in the city. You went out to the nearest shop driving in your car to buy what you needed for the surprise party.

The aisles of the supermarket were full after the Christmas and New Year celebrations. The party section wasn't very big but it had all you needed to decorate. You took a silver balloon number twenty-seven and some coloured hats.

A cake was quite necessary, so you walked over to the local bakery to check out the different flavours they had. Carrot and walnut cake, vanilla cupcakes, lemon cheesecake, layered rainbow cake, cinnamon tea cake, double chocolate mousse cake and many more flavours unleashed delicious aromas that reached your nose.

In the end you decided on a victoria sponge cake, only little things were missing, like drinks. So after having your shopping trolley full you head to the checkout to pay for everything and go back home to decorate everything.

You and Florence have been a couple for a few years now and have been living together for a few months. Your house was large and quite homely, with a beautiful bedroom that you shared, and most importantly, something Florence had insisted on, a spacious kitchen, perfect for making delicious recipes.

After a road trip you arrive at the house you share and prepare everything for Florence's arrival. After the surprise you would go out for dinner and then maybe come home looking forward to hanging out with Billie.

You blew up the balloons, placed some confetti, a "Happy Birthday" banner and the cake on the centre table. You heard the keys through the door and the sound of the lock being unlocked. You turned off the lights and hid behind the sofa.

The door was opened and Florence came in. "Honey, are you here? I'm home!" she yelled.

"Surprise!!!" you shouted coming out from behind the couch and turning on the lights, recording with your phone her reaction.

It had been a few weeks without seeing each other due to film recordings Florence had, so you both hugged each other tightly when you were reunited.

You turned off the phone and put it in your pocket, took her face in your hands and kissed her forehead, nose, cheeks... her whole face was covered with your kisses and she laughed happily to see you.

"Happy Birthday, love of my life. I hope you're ready, because we're leaving" And with that you grabbed her wrist, and walked out the door.

You ended up having dinner under a beautiful tree under the starlight. Delicious dishes adorned the grass that was covered by a blanket, and even though it was night the moon was perfect to shine on the two of you.

The night ended with sweet kisses filled with love, celebrating a birthday together. But the best part of the day was snuggling under the covers in your room, with Billie at your feet, cuddling quietly and with little touches on your bare skin, as you hummed songs and listened to each other's breaths.

#florence pugh #flo pugh #florence pugh imagine #pugh #f pugh #fanfic #fanfiction #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x reader #yelena belova #yelena belova x you #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x platonic!reader #florence pugh x fem!reader #florence pugh x female reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #imagine #fluff #soft life #birthday #birthday surprise #actress #short story #my concepts

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Nine (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Content: sad goodbye and time passing... Wordcount: 5085

Still not an actual yautja fic, folks. Hope you enjoy this part, and thank you for your continued enthusiasm in this somewhat unwieldy project. It means the world to me and your tags and responses give me life.

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw), Part Eight (sfw)

Walking through the ship was like taking a tour across a movie set, and you almost tripped over your own feet as you stared around and tried to take it all in. Croc actually grabbed you and set you upright again when you stumbled, half-contorted in an attempt to peer over your shoulder without breaking stride, and you grinned at him despite yourself. 

You barely heard his explanation about their scanners picking up an enemy passing by the crash site about two hours after you’d left, heading in your direction. Apparently they’d grabbed their gear and run all the way to you, and even then had only just found you in time. You croaked out a weak ‘thank you’, and he chittered a fond laugh back. 

“Losing an arm hasn’t slowed you down at all,” you said, and he clicked something proudly at you. “How’s it healing?”

“Well. Commander has scheduled a fitting for a prosthetic the moment I’m back on the mothership.” 

The rescue ship had been alerted to the enemy’s presence too, while Big Red and Croc were charging after you, and the new team had diverted to your location to assist in the kill if necessary, then pick up Croc and Big Red, and destroy the carcass of the enemy creature. That done, they were to return to the crash site to collect the rest of Croc and Big Red’s salvaged gear from the ruined ship.

Apparently, that had all been achieved while you’d been passed out, and all that remained now was to destroy Red’s ship after take-off. They were willing to help humans out against the enemy which they themselves had brought to Earth, but they weren’t prepared to let a ship, with its technology and secrets, fall into human hands to be picked over by analysts and researchers. 

Entering the bridge through a sliding door in the bulkhead, you looked around, still slack-jawed.

Situated at the nose of the arrowhead ship, the nerve-centre of the vessel was illuminated by a huge, curved window that looked out over the forest in the grey light of the growing dawn beyond. Below it, a massive deck of navigational instruments and control screens hugged the contour of the ship in a wide arc.

Seated in what had to be the captain’s chair was the alien you’d seen tending to Red. Their colouring in the warm, low lights of the bridge seemed to be a mix of blood-red and burgundy, though you couldn’t see if they looked like Croc’s species or Red’s because they had a dark helmet over their head. Just visible at the back of their head were relatively short but thick ‘dreads’ that just brushed their shoulders.

They turned in the swivel-chair as you and Croc entered, and Croc bowed his head formally. 

The leucistic one who had helped you out of your harness drifted into the room like a ghost, and you saw that they too were wearing a helmet this time, though it was made of bone like Red’s, even though they had looked more like Croc’s species. Perhaps it was for the overall pale aesthetic.

Croc introduced you by name to the captain and first officer in their own language. Where the last member of the rescue crew was, you weren’t sure, but a quick glance around the blinking lights and glowing screens of the bridge showed you that you were alone with the two strangers and Croc. 

Perhaps scenting your anxiety, Croc took a small step close to you and laid his hand on your shoulder. His black claws curved right around the joint, but you felt a little of the tension ease out of you at the delicate pressure. He had your back. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Hello,” you croaked at the captain, who twitched their head and said something behind their mask to the pale one.

At the captain’s orders, the first officer disappeared back through a different door on the far side of the back wall from where you were standing, and Croc guided you into the room and a little closer to the captain.

“So… I understand you’re going to try and drop me at the base?” you said and they nodded. “Thank you. Something has been blocking my GPS and satellite phone though,” you said. “I’m assuming it’s something on your ships?” 

Again, they nodded. 

“Ok. If you can deactivate it for a while, I can contact my superiors and tell them you’re going to bring me back, and tell them not to open fire.” For emphasis, you added, “That way I can take your High Elder’s message to my people and we can get the ball rolling on wiping out the enemy from Earth before it’s too late…”

So much for not being a diplomat, you thought smugly, though you didn’t let it show. You still looked like a ragged stray, with your torn and dirty clothing after all, but at least their medicine had healed your cuts and acid burns and bruises.

A moment later, the pale one — ‘Ghost’ perhaps, you thought for the lack of colour and the way they moved with eerie silence — came back into the room with only the hiss of the bulkhead door to announce them, and held out a metal cup on a tray to you. It was strange to see one of their kind that was so short, relatively speaking. You barely had to crick your neck to look at them. 

You shot Croc a quizzical look and he flared his mouth in a smile. “Water.”

Chewing on your lower lip for a second, you put your trust in these creatures to the test yet again and took the cup. It looked like water, but there was only one way to find out. After a cautious sip, you gulped the contents down and handed it back to ‘Ghost’. “Thank you,” you said, taking in both ‘Ghost’ and the captain with your gaze.

The captain rose from their chair and stalked over to you. Holy shit, if you’d thought Red was tall, this one had to have been nearly eight feet, and although they were not broad and hulking in the way Big Red was, they had a steady, almost sinister presence that almost made you want to step back into the safety of Croc’s shadow.

They wore pauldrons on both shoulders, and a small, battle-scarred chestplate, but their muscled midsection was visible above the armoured loincloth and articulated tassets that covered their thighs, and it was protected only by a flexible looking strip of lamellar armour that connected breastplate to belt down the centre.

Like Croc, they had greaves on, but no boots or shoes to cover their clawed feet; only a small, flexible sole that was fixed at the ankle and across their clawed toes like sandals. The skin around the centre of their stomach and inner thighs and arms was a pale, pinkish cream, but the red colouring deepened to such a dark, wine-stain red down their arms and around their sides and ribs that you were almost tempted to nickname them Merlot or Rioja. You didn’t dare though, and stuck to ‘captain’. 

For a long moment, they just stood there and regarded you. 

Knowing a little of what Red’s mask could do, you assumed they were running some kind of biometric analysis on you from their helmet, so you just stood there and waited, and tried not to squirm.

Eventually, they tilted their head in the way you’d come to recognise from Red and Croc as satisfaction, and you smiled and relaxed just a fraction. They clicked something to Croc, who nodded and then translated. “You will have to go outside to make your communications,” he said. “For a brief time, we will turn off the jamming signals and cloaking which is preventing you from making contact with your people. I will turn it off on our ship too.”

“The crash didn’t completely destroy everything then?” you asked and he shook his head.

“How do you think the Boss kept his room so cosy in that storm?” he snorted and then wheezed in your ear, “His attractive personality?” 

You snorted but quickly composed yourself. You had no idea how much the captain knew of your… ‘relations’ with Red, and didn’t want to get him into trouble. 

Croc continued blithely, “The engines were out, but the backup power worked fine. It’ll never fly again, but we could still access a few of the systems.”

You nodded and then turned back to the captain. “Just say when, and I’ll go and try it.”

While Croc needed to translate the captain’s words in order for you to understand them, they seemed to have no problem understanding yours.

Croc elbowed you. “Come on. I’ll come with you.”

It felt strange to be standing outside in the misty, dawn atmosphere of the crash site again. 

The outline of their broken ship seemed as familiar now as the landmarks of your hometown, and as you stared at it from the gangway of the second ship, you sighed. “Is it wrong that I just want to camp out in the woods with you two forever, and not go back home at all?” you muttered up at Croc.

He crooned fondly and shook his head. “Boss is the same,” he snorted. “You should make your call.”

“You’re keen to get going then?” you asked, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

He chittered something in his language that had the ring of a name to it “— wants to blow this place up and get back to the mothership. We shouldn’t linger. They’re a good captain, but unlike the Boss, they have a temper…” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“And you’re already in their debt after they diverted here to save you, and then to help me…” you sighed. “I understand.”

It didn’t take long to reestablish communication with the base, and after getting an absolute earful from the team leader about not being in contact for so long, you explained the very basics of what had happened, and she listened in silence. Then she disappeared to check with her commander to get the all-clear for an alien ship to land on base.

It all seemed to take ages.

While you waited for your satellite phone to ring again, Croc paced back and forth between the ships, looking tense and twitchy. They had left themselves completely vulnerable to detection from all quarters now, and all so that you could return safely to base. They could have just left you there in the woods, maybe even blown you up with the ship, and returned straight to this ‘mothership’, but they had diverted for you, and they were lingering there for you. 

Eventually you heard back, and Croc came over to listen to the instructions too before escorting you back onto the new ship. With the message delivered to the captain, Croc took you back to their small infirmary to wait, and you sat on the edge of Red’s bed while he slept on. 

Ghost stuck their head in a little while later and chittered something shyly to Croc before vanishing again without looking at you.

“Commander gave the all-clear,” Croc said. “You’re going home.”

You looked down at Big Red and reached carefully for his large forehead. You trailed your fingertips over the hard bumps and ripples, and all the way around the protective ridge that covered the roots of his ‘dreads’, and sighed. 

Croc watched intently and twitched a mandible when you looked up at him. “He’s so still. Will he really be ok?” you asked in a whisper.

“Yes. He is sedated. He has much healing still to do. Their venom is lethal if an antivenom is not administered immediately…”

The memory of Croc stabbing him in the neck with a syringe crossed your mind and you nodded. “You saved him. And you both saved me. Thank you, Croc. You could have just left me to die out there, but… you came for me.”

He moved over to stand beside the bed and pulled you against his torso in a one-armed hug before leaning back and running his hand affectionately over Red’s crest too. 

“You should prepare for takeoff,” he said, sounding more gruff than usual. “It will not take long to reach your base.”

You had no visual reference for how high or how fast you were travelling once the ship had smoothly taken off, but not long after the engines had spooled up and hummed to life, you heard three rapid blasts from what sounded almost exactly like a sci-fi plasma cannon, and a muffled explosion followed. Red’s ship was gone, and with it a small chunk of the forest too probably.

You sat with Red in silence for the short ride. 

He slept on, slowly healing, and you slid your fingers into his where they lay curled and unresponsive atop the thin, warm blanket that covered his body. 

Strangely enough, it was the fabric that felt alien to you, not the creature beneath it. 

The ridges and textures of his palm and fingertips played across your skin and made your nerves tingle. You could still remember how his hands had felt across every inch of you, and you shuddered and let out a rough breath. You stooped and kissed his knuckles. 

As you straightened up again, the bone amulet slid free from your collar and dangled in the space between you, knocking against his side like a charm in the wind. You tucked it back beneath the fabric again so that it would lie warm and secure against your skin, and sighed and promised him silently that you’d wear it always.

The soft hiss of the door announced Croc’s arrival a minute or so after the ship had touched down and the engines had fallen silent, and he stood quietly, watching you for a long few seconds. 

Red still hadn’t woken. 

With a heavy heart, you stood and kissed his delicate, unresponsive mandibles one last time. “Love you, Red,” you whispered. “I hope you know that.” 

With tears in your eyes, you left him for the second time, and followed Croc through the ship. 

“I’ll go out first,” you said to the captain who was already standing at the ramp. They now had some kind of mini swivel-gun mounted onto their left pauldron, and their belt was bristling with knives and weapons. “Thank you for trusting me,” you added diplomatically.

The captain just nodded. 

Out of nowhere to your right, Ghost appeared to lurk in your peripheral vision, startling the living daylights out of you and making Croc wheeze a laugh at your reaction, and then the ramp began to lower.

On the concrete yard outside you found a semicircle of human soldiers, all with weapons trained at the ship. Croc snarled and instinctively took up a fighting stance, but you laid a hand on his stomach and he stilled. He did not relax. 

Turning to the soldiers, you yelled, “Don’t shoot! Do not fire! I’m going to come out alone and I’m going to walk towards you. I’m unarmed and unhurt.” You knew the agreed-upon procedure as well as the aliens and their captain did, but it didn’t hurt to announce your intentions. 

With a quick look at the captain, you murmured a quick, “Thank you,” and turned to Croc one last time. “Tell Red… Tell him I’ll never forget him,” you said, brushing your fingertips against the amulet. “Or you. I hope we see each other again.”

He bowed his head and clicked something at you that made the captain gasp and growl at him, but Croc ignored them and sank to one knee again, bringing his right hand up behind his head and pulling his ‘dreads’ to one side to expose the left side of his throat to you. “I am… indebted,” he said.

“Croc, you saved my life last night. You’re not in my debt…”

“Always,” he said. “I am yours before all else, my friend.”

“Ok,” you choked, trying to keep it together. 

You had no idea what the appropriate response to his gesture was, but you placed your palm flat on the side of his neck before sweeping it up to his jaw. 

With a fond stroke of your thumb over the hard, cool skin of his cheek, you said, “Thank you. Take care of yourselves for me, ok?”

He nodded, clicked out a little phrase in his own language, and then stood once more.

You turned and walked away down the ramp and towards your own people again.

No shots were fired, the captain’s ship was allowed to leave a few minutes later, and you found yourself at the centre of frantic operations for months afterwards. 

Naturally, there was an awful lot that you deliberately left out about your few days with Big Red and Croc, but you made it known that theirs was a highly intelligent species that prized an individual’s fighting ability and honour over much else, though they could be compassionate and humorous at times too. 

Those first few months after your return were some of the busiest of your life, and they numbered among the hardest too. You met several other members of the species who had come to be known colloquially as ‘Hunters’, and while none of them was like Big Red, you saw elements of him in each of them: in their power and posture; in their clicking mandibles and in the turn of their head; in the way their ‘braids’ would swish across their shoulders… But none of them was quite like Big Red, and you missed his calm stoicism and gentle kindness sorely. 

As a linguist, you weren’t directly involved in the planning of the worldwide hunt for the enemy species, but your connection with the hunters who pursued them proved invaluable. Word had spread among them that you had saved Croc’s life, and because of that, you had gained a certain amount of honour and respect. They seemed to look to you as a spokesperson of truth and honour, ranking above your commanders in their estimation. 

While that was flattering, it was also exhausting. You lived just off the base, but your days were long and the hours were not always sociable. 

“So much for not being a diplomat,” you muttered again to yourself one night after you’d spent three hours in conversation with Red’s commander. 

The female was intimidating, bullheaded, belligerent, and, you discovered after inadvertently cracking a joke when your exhaustion got the better of you, in possession of a wicked sense of humour. 

You got along rather well after that, on the few occasions you spoke directly to her, and she took you off guard once by mentioning in passing that Big Red had been sent back to his people on Secundus to recover and was no longer under her direct command. Croc had been assigned to a new team as captain of his own ship.

You ached to know more than that about Red, but you didn’t dare ask her about him in front of a room full of top military personnel, and the only time you could speak to her was during top secret briefings and meetings about the crisis. 

While you were managing to avoid looking like you had a pathetic crush on a Hunter, the world was busy organising an unprecedented cooperative effort to avoid being overrun by the black-carapaced enemy that had nearly eviscerated you in the woods that night. They acquired the name ‘shrikes’ for their tendency to display the carcasses of their dismembered victims, impaled on the nearest sharp object.

Soldiers from every continent were trained in the use of Hunter weapons and technology, sweeps of the planet were made, and eventually after nearly two years of humanity actually working together in a coordinated, international effort, it was determined that the shrikes which had stowed away on Hunter ships had been eliminated. 

In those two years, you wrote papers and studied their language and writing system with the aid of various Hunters, both in person and via video-link, though the latter was much more common. The few Hunters who came to Earth came to hunt or share weaponry, not to play teacher to curious humans about other aspects of their culture. Although it was physically impossible for humans to produce most of the sounds of their language, you came to understand it pretty well, and remained on base as an official go-between for the increasingly rare occasion when in-person contact was made between the species.

“So much or not being a diplomat…” 

You repeated your sarcastic little mantra yet again as you walked along the main road off the base late one winter night, heading home after an especially long day. 

At least it had stopped raining about an hour earlier, though the cold, damp night pressed in on all sides, sneaking its icy fingers down your open collar. You reached up and absentmindedly ran your finger and thumb around the smooth contours of the bone amulet that hung as ever around your neck, and sighed a cloud of billowing vapour into the dark night.

You waved in response to a soldier as she called goodnight to your familiar face from her patrol, and you turned to take the route out past the airfield that stretched away around the back of the base. This would lead you through a narrow band of pines that bordered the perimeter of the whole base, and then on to the estate of identical, copy-paste houses that had been built for those who worked on-base but were not military personnel themselves.  

Your eye was caught by the unexpected presence of a small, Hunter research ship sitting way off on the tarmac near the hangars, its gangplank down and with warm light spilling in a golden, watercolour wash over the wet ground. 

It was the newest model from the same series of ships that Big Red and Croc had arrived in, and the outline of its smooth, familiar, arrowhead silhouette made your chest ache. 

You hadn’t been aware that they were expecting any of the Hunters in person, and you frowned. 

With a tired shrug though, you brushed it off. If they’d wanted you there for more talks, they’d have kept you back. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d been forced to endure an all-nighter, even after the shrike threat had been deemed largely over, but the Hunters had automatic translation software now that allowed for direct verbal communication in real time. It sounded a little creepy and emotionless, but it meant that those Hunters who hadn’t mastered human languages could still be understood. 

With another sigh, you kept walking, heading out of the back gate and calling another friendly farewell to the guards in their sentry boxes.

Adjusting your satchel on one shoulder where the strap was digging in, you slouched down the road, wondering whether there was actually anything edible in the fridge at home, and trying to decide if it would be considered dinner or breakfast at that time of night. 

On the road at the edge of the housing estate, in the shadows just before the small cut-through that led to your street, you heard running footsteps behind you on the main road that led through the trees to the base. 

You spun abruptly, wondering who was out there at that time of night. Perhaps you’d dropped something and one of the guards was running to catch up with you? 

As you peered into the darkness however, the running pattern slowed to a jog and then to a near-silent walk, and you strained your eyes to see along the dark road between the dim street lights that lined it at distant intervals. 

Far off, you could just make out the twin lights of the sentry boxes and the glow of the base beyond, but on the forest road you could see nothing but shadow between the street lamps.

Trying not to feel like the chump about to die horribly in a slasher movie, you cleared your throat and called, “Hello?”

At the sound of your voice, a tall figure moved in the dark and for a fleeting moment they were silhouetted against the lights and your heartbeat quickened. They were huge. Surely no one would dare mug someone who’d just left a highly-guarded military facility, would they?

Then, walking slowly towards you in the centre of the deserted road, the figure came to a halt beneath the nearest street light, watching you, and your breath caught.

Seven or so feet tall, wearing no more clothing than an armoured loincloth and a heavy duty belt, with long, unusually thin braids that flowed down from their large head, and with a bone-white mask covering their head, it was… it looked like… 

It couldn’t be… 

Could it?

“Red?” you whispered, swaying.

Standing twenty yards off, the figure nodded once and took half a step towards you.

You choked. “Red?”

He raised his hand and took off his mask, and you were running before his hand was back at his side.

Your bag slithered from your shoulder but you abandoned it in the road, not breaking stride, running, heart pounding. “Red!”

He lifted his arms a little way from his side just as you collided with him, and he grunted on impact. His mask dropped to the tarmac with a clatter. 

Solid, cool, and unfathomably beautiful, it really was Big Red. You’d know him anywhere. 

With your arms looped tightly around his middle, you held him so tightly he wheezed and then he clicked a fond little rebuke at you before swinging you around in a wild circle around him when he realised you weren’t going to let go of him. 

His arms tightened around you when he set you down again, one hand cupping your head and the other stroking down your back, and he began to purr.

A series of rumbling, wheezing whines left him a second later, and beneath the solid frame of his chest, you discovered that he was shaking softly. He lowered his head, his thin ‘dreads’ falling in a veil around you, and he buried his face at your neck. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you said as tears rolled down your cheeks. His ‘dreads’ brushed across a couple and wiped them gently away as they wafted over your skin. “God, Red, is it really you? Is this really happening?”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to manage human speech just yet. 

“Was that your ship I saw on the base just now? The fancy new model?”

Again, he nodded and didn’t pull back. It wasn’t until his body went stiff and he tensed, twitching and then bringing a slow, trembling, clawed hand up to your collarbones that you got any more reaction from him. Even over the layers of fabric, he traced a fingertip over the lump that was his bone amulet, and then he did draw back sharply. 

With his mandibles softly parted in surprise, he stared down at you. “You… You still have it…” he croaked. “You… wear it.”

“Of course I do,” you frowned. “I only take it off to shower.” 

For a heartbeat, he didn’t react, but then you found yourself crushed in a second hug, somehow even tighter and more frantic than the first. “I missed you so much,” he rasped. “I wasn’t sure if… if you would still think of me.”

“Red!” you practically yowled in outrage, though since your face was currently mashed against his chest, it sounded more like a disgruntled cat than a human. “Of course I do! How could I ever forget you?”

For a long time, the two of you just stood on the road and hugged, but eventually you grunted as your spine protested the angle, and Red straightened and let go of you. 

You exhaled a long, steadying breath and then gave a weak laugh. “How long are you here for?”

Big Red gave a long, slow, rattling purr. “For a while,” he said. “With the threat of the creatures you call ‘shrikes’ eliminated, the High Council has agreed to station some of us here permanently as… ambassadors.”

Your eyes went wide and your heart soared. “You’re staying? Here?”

He nodded. “Two ships will be allowed to remain on this base. We will work with your kind on a number of technologies.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed, dizzy with disbelief. “You’re staying. And… And Croc? Is he with you too?”

Big Red laughed and nodded. “His ship is the second. He is due to land…” He checked his vambrace with a tap of his clawed finger, and chuckled again. “In one minute.”

“Holy shit,” you said again. “Let me get my bag,” you said, and you trotted away feeling like you were floating. 

When you returned, Big Red was still standing there waiting for you, and he took the strap of your bag from your hand and slid it over his shoulder. “You are tired,” he said. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me you can smell that,” you said with a cautious sniff of your armpit. “It’s been a really long day, ok? If you have a shower onboard that’s safe for humans, I’m going to abuse my privilege as your… friend and get into it.”

“Perhaps we can use it together,” Red shot back immediately, and you felt your whole body light up for the first time in a very long while.

When he chuckled and clicked something at you in his own language, you snorted in response. “Oh you bet I want you,” you said, and he flared his mandibles in surprise at your understanding. “I’ve wanted no one else since the last time you touched me.”

Red’s answering curses were colourful enough that it went beyond even your fairly extensive vocabulary, but you got the gist all the same and slid your hand into his, squeezing tightly. “I’m not sure if Croc will give me more grief for greeting him smelling like exhaustion or like sex. What do you think?”

Red shot you a knowing glance and you nodded. 

Who were you kidding? He would give you hell either way. 

You couldn’t wait.

___

Yay! Reunited! Time to start wrapping this story up in the next part, I think.

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[jake-g-lockley]

Seven Lives (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

A/N: I watched Chennai Express again somewhere last week and decided to write this drabble, added my favourite place on the planet + my favourite person on the planet. I also cried writing this so-

Word Count: 783 words

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You stared glumly up at the set of stairs in front of you, angrily nibbling at the lime ice cream in your hand. The limestone caves above you looked magnificent and you were so tempted to go up and explore the intricately carved temple, it had, after all, been years since you did. You glance up at the big statue beside the stairs and frown. 

“I’d go up but this little fella won’t let me,” you mumbled to the golden-faced God, rubbing at your swollen tummy. 

Your grandma had forbidden you from going up due to your pregnant state. She had been wary since you expressed interest in taking your husband there, saying that he would appreciate the beautiful architecture and history. 

“What are we looking at, darling?” your husband whispered and you turned to frown at him.

“Aw love, what's wrong?” He said taking your face in his hands.

“I wanna go up.” You said, nodding towards the stairs.

“Your ammamah is not gonna be happy, my sweet wife.” He frowned back, eyeing the stairs with you. 

“Hey! You’re the one who did this to-” you say a little too loudly and Steven clamps a hand onto your mouth.

“Holy place!” he hissed through a smile.

The both of you stood there a little longer, watching people walk up and down the colourful concrete staircase. You loved this place, it gave you peace and tranquillity like no other and you felt amazing. But it truly did make you sad that you couldn't waddle your way up the stairs. 

“Alright, you know what…” Steven Grant folded the sleeves of his kurta and suddenly scooped you up into his arms bridal style as if you weighed like a feather.

“NOOO STEVEN PUT ME DOWN!” you squeal, grabbing onto the edge of your saree.

“Come on love, what kinda superhero doesn’t do superhero things for his wife?”  Steven winks down at you and kicks his shoes off.

You hide your face behind the long edge of your saree as people begin to stare and point the second Steven started walking up the stairs with you. The arm that is hooked around Steven’s neck was already a cry for help, but part of you really did want to go up to the cave. 

“Steven, there are people watching.” you mumble and hang onto him tightly.

“Let them watch, keep your eyes on me, love.” He whispered back, watching his footing. 

“Two hundred and seventy two steps, Steven.” 

“I’ve done more.” 

“Yea, without your pregnant wife in your arms!”

People around you started to coo and shout praises, all which Steven nodded politely to. You watch your husband’s face for any sign of a strain, his jaw set in concentration and the feeling of being rocked in his arms easing out all of your anxieties. Steven’s hands on you grounded you to him, and you held to that feeling like it was your life line. 

“Did you know that the cave is 400 million years old?” Steven says, as he continues to take step after step.

Steven continued to dish out facts and you listened intensely, nodding at each of them despite already learning all of the facts by heart. You watch him say hi to a monkey and your eyes shift to the vel-shaped entrance of the cave. Your heart swells with pride as people around you cheer and clap as Steven slowly sets you down slowly before kneeling down and adjusting your saree’s pleats. 

You were in your favourite place on Earth and all you could do was look at your husband. You can’t help feeling lucky and loved. You teared up as elderly folk swarmed Steven, touching his head and giving him their blessings. Once the crowd cleared, Steven reached out to grab your hand, pulling you close. He set a hand onto your tummy and knelt down again, pressing his ear against you. 

Was it really possible to fall in love with the same person again and again?

“Your mummy is very spoiled, little one, I’d do anything for you and for her.” You smacked Steven’s head and he laughed, getting up and encasing you in an embrace. 

“Thanks, Steven, I love you.” you mumble in his chest while he fixes your hair. 

The seven-lives bond that people always talked about when it came to marriage didn’t seem true to you then. You’d hate to see someone else with Steven in his eighth life. But you’d have seven lifetimes to ponder over that. Now, you held onto Steven’s hand tightly as he led you to the cave temple, Steven chastising you to watch your step as he stirred you around puddles. 

Translations:

ammamah: grandma

kurta: a loose collarless shirt or tunic worn in many regions of South Asia

Vel: is a divine javelin or spear associated with Murugan, the Hindu god of war.

Saree: a women's garment from the Indian subcontinent,that consists of an un-stitched stretch of woven fabric arranged over the body as a robe, with one end tied to the waist, while the other end rests over one shoulder as a stole (shawl), sometimes baring a part of the midriff

Tagging: @mintpurplemnm @pakhiya

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant one shot #steven grant drabble #drabble #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagines #steven grant fluff #steven grant my beloved #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x you #steven grant moon knight #steven grant x desi reader #steven grant x desi!reader #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight fluff #marvel moon knight #oisaacedit #oisaac #oscar isaac #moon knight headcanons #marvels moon knight #mcu moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight x desi!reader

[youflowerr-youfeast]

Daisy. ( I )

Author’s note: Hi! Hello! Trying to dip my toe back into writing, so I’m not sure how good/well it going to go, but I hope you like this because I have some cute plans for it. 🤍 G xx

Summary: y/n has a vision impairment and Harry takes a liking to her canine companion.

TW - mentions of blindness/head trauma.

1.3k words.

PART II

The repetitive noise of the grinder filled the small coffee shop as you stirred the singular sugar into your mug of coffee.

The London summer had just begun and you’d tried to get yourself into the routine of getting out of the house a bit earlier to enjoy the morning sun against your skin.

You sat yourself in the corner of the cafe up against the window so you could still enjoy the warmth of outside without the incessant noise of London traffic.

Noise was something you’d become accustomed to either love or hate. Because it was all you really had at your disposal when trying to navigate the outside world.

At the age of seven you had lost your eyesight due to an accident that occurred while ice skating on a winter family getaway.

While skating in the late, cold, winter afternoon you’d taken quite a violent tumble which had seen the back of your head smack against the solid ice.

As soon as your head hit the ice your consciousness was lost and the many hours later that it returned, your eyes opened to complete darkness - it was like you were trapped in a dark cave with no escape.

You soon learned that from the incident that occurred on the ice, your occipital lobe had acquired significant damage that had lead to complete vision loss.

You were seven. You’re now 25. It had been 18 years since your eyes had taken in light, colour, shapes and, most importantly, faces.

So, sound and touch very quickly became you’re only vices of getting through day to day life, except for your trusty sidekick, Daisy, your seeing eye dog.

You had received her when you turned 19 years of age and made the brave decision to move out of home. You didn’t live alone though. You had your roommate, Freya, who you became very fast friends with through university.

She too was always a great help through day to day life, but the best thing about her is that she respected your independence and your need to be able to do things alone.

You took the last few sips of your coffee and wiped your mouth down with a napkin.

“Ok, Daisy, time to head to class, hey,” you stated as you felt around for your aged tote bag and tugged on your dog’s harness.

You stood from the seat and carefully navigated your way out of the cafe, waving a polite thank you to the staff.

“I think we’ve got enough time to wander through the park, little daisy girl,” you stated as you placed your AirPods in your ears.

Technology also helped you a lot. It helped you to get around without having to always depend on someone.

You had become very comfortable and familiar with the part of London you lived in though, so it wasn’t always something you needed.

Daisy began to help lead you to the park, a little detour you’d decided to take on your way to uni.

She sat patiently waiting to help you cross the busy road when you heard a mumble outside of your AirPods.

You quickly removed one from your ear and turned towards the noise, unsure of its origin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt- just was sayin’ you have a beautiful dog,” the voice said.

A small smile graced your face, “Oh, yeah, thanks. I assume she is too,” you replied politely.

The voice chuckled softly, “You assume?” it asked with a tone of slight confusion.

“Ah, yeah, well.. given I can’t see her, it’s all I can do,” you responded with a gentle giggle.

As the stranger looked down again they were quick to notice the harness upon the golden labrador was attached to a small vest that had “assistance dog” embroidered into it.

“Oh my god- I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

She cut off the embarrassed, rambling stranger, “Trust me, it’s totally fine,” you reassured them with a sweet smile.

Sometimes your independence could be misleading, but I guess that’s always why people shouldn’t ever judge a book by its cover.

The stranger couldn’t help but notice how nice your small smile was to look at; they couldn’t help but think how nice a proper, big smile would look plastered on your face.

They nodded, coming down from their short wave of embarrassment, “Still inconsiderate of me to not notice..” the voice paused,”‘m Harry, by the way,” he said, impulsively feeling the need to intro himself.

Your head turned back towards him, following the sound, “Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Y/N. And this is Daisy.”

The alarm to cross the road started to sound and your dog stood from her spot and began to guide you across the road.

Harry immediately felt the need to follow.

“Still feel like a bit of a dickhead for being so unobservant,” he said while falling to step beside you, “surely I could do something to make up for it.”

You were surprised to hear his voice following you across the street.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Easy mistake to make. Plus.. I won’t lie.. I’m not majorly into the habit of letting strangers I meet on the street.. that I can’t see.. just hang out with me,” you explained with a small chuckle, trying your best to not sound rude in anyway.

His laugh filled your ears.

You either loved or hated sounds. It was your key to navigating every space around you. This sound? This was a sound you liked. A lot.

“That’s very fair, actually. Seems a shame though. I feel like Miss Daisy and I here could have been a super cute couple,” he said through a grin that you could hear.

And then he saw it. A smile that filled your face. And it was a sight he wanted to see over and over again.

A laugh tumbled through your lips at his cheeky comment and you shook your head while biting your lip softly, “Mm. That is too bad. She’s also a lesbian so I don’t see it working out,” you joked in response.

“Ah, fuck! Not again. Always falling for the wrong ones,” he said in joking exaggeration.

As you halted at another set of pedestrian lights you couldn’t help but smile and giggle at the funny, sweet stranger following you and your dog through the London streets.

You let a small sigh pass your lips, “Uh- fuck it. Fine. I’ll go out on a limb here,” you smiled, “but if you end up being a murderer, I’ll have to put Daisy into attack mode,” you joked.

Harry’s face lit up with a smile that had his dimples sit in, “Understood,” he said with a tone full of joy.

“I have a class to get to but, maybe some other time you can take Daisy out. Wine and dine her,” you respond, the tone of your voice matching his.

“Please. Only vintage champagnes and caviar for her. Nothing less,” he chuckled.

Both of your giggles filled the air as he pulled out his phone. He opened up his contacts application, “what number should I try and call Miss Daisy on then?”

You smiled, “She lost her phone recently, so I guess I’ll just have to give to mine.”

“Ah, what a bummer,” he quipped, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

You told him your phone number through a few more giggles and then heard the pedestrian crossing alarm sound once again.

“Well, that’s me,” you said through a soft smile, “I’ll make sure Daisy gets back to you.”

You began to make your way across the road with the aid of your dog.

“Can’t wait.” He said, not being able to fight the smirk gracing his face as he watched you walk away.

Thank you so much for reading gorgeous humans! I really hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know if you're interested in me continuing this cute little story and if you have any other ideas/requests. Love, G xx

#harry styles #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanart #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harrys house #love on tour #harry styles fandom #imagine #fanfiction

[windsweptinred]

Metamorphosis Part Seven

(It's finished, it's actually finished!!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The great stained glass windows of the palace throne room shifted in a continual blur of pattern and colour. At the base of the vast staircase below, Night watched them with concern. Their disharmony, a clear sign all was not well with their master. 

The young Endless in question stood upon the first step, facing him, Matthew perched loyally upon his shoulder. He looked, for all the world, like a slighter, pale miniature of Night, tall and dark as he was with Dusk balanced proudly on his own. Time stood at Night's side, one hand placed at the small of his back, resting gently on the cool leather. The other, carefully cradling the treasured baby blanket, Night had passed him.

Dream fiddled with his sleeves once more. An anxious tick, Night pondered fleetingly, just like Time. Those life green eyes looked to them imploringly. "Must you go?"

Night gave a slight, weary smile, "It is time we took our leave." He looked to the imposing stone throne above, sat empty and expectant. "And you must see to your realm, your highness."

Dream followed his gaze, expression somewhat troubled, before slowly smoothing to one of acceptance and determination. He turned back to the pair, chin high and declared in a stately manner, "I will make you proud." Time smiled warmly in response. "You already have Dream." The young man nodded in silent gratitude, eyes wet. 

"You will find your tools of office in Lucienne's safe keeping." Night informed him softly. "I had meant to hand them to you personally, earlier. However…" 

"It all turned into a colossal cluster fuck? " Time offered. 

Night bit the inside of his cheek, as Dusk looked at him sharply in appalled dismay at Time's words. He ran a finger over her flanks placatingly. This is 600 years of refinement before you Dusk, he thought. And imagined with a quirk of his lips, how his handmaiden would have reacted to the scoundrel he had encountered in 1389. 

Turning his attention once more to Dream, he continued, demeanour serious. "They will help you grow gradually accustomed to your power, but do not become reliant upon them."

Dream's eyes broke their shared gaze, fluttering about in a lost manner. Before he looked to Night with an expression of deep anguish. "I remember." He admitted almost inaudibly. 

Night screwed his eyes shut. Bitter grief flooding his heart. He had so ardently hoped the youth had been spared some of the worst cruelties dealt to him. That he had remembered the who's and hows of Dream of the Endless.. Not all. 

"I wish you did not… I am so very sorry" He whispered mournfully. "For you to be burdened with such monstrous memories… I would like you to have met the dreamers afresh, with benevolence and hope. Not already tainted by my own experiences." 

Dream shook his head emphatically. "It is not your fault. It is not theirs either."

Night stared at him in wonder. Oh my darling boy, how did one such as you come from such brutal beginnings? 

"If you ever need… " He started. 

"I shall call for you." Dream assured him. "I swear it!"

Night took Dream's face in hands, running his thumbs lovingly over his cheeks. Eyes of blue and green bled to matching swathes of night. Bright stars flaring within both at recognition of the other. 

"Do not grow proud." Night attempted to sound stern in warning. But his voice was hoarse, and the tender concern in his words won out. "Take heed of Lucienne's wise counsel. Trust Matthew in all things, he will never abandon you. Do not fear calling on the Corinthian's aid, for there is little he would not do for you if you asked it of him." 

Dream nodded, gentle tears slipping from his eyes, which Night swept away without comment. Leaning forward, he placed a  kiss, full of devotion upon the Dream's forehead, whispering into place his lips had marked with urgency." Remember your duty is not all you are Daniel." 

Dream's breath hitched, and he clutched at Night's coat with an unrelenting grip. Time stepped forward, running a hand affectionately through the youths white locks, stopping to cradle the back of his head. Dream looked at him, eyes gleaming. 

"Visit Hippolyta Hall." Time instructed gravely. "Let her know you are safe and whole. Continue to do so from time to time, even if all it brings you is discomfort and her misery. Do not leave her to suffer a parents greif. Pomsie me, Dream."

Dream glanced at Time, then Night, with a great, sorrowful look of understanding."I will, I promise."

They withdrew from him, Time knocking a gentle knuckle against his cheek as they did. "Stay hearty and hale for me." He whispered, pleadingly. "Do nothing reckless."  

At Dream's shoulder, Matthew puffed out his small feathered chest. "I've got this. I'll take care of the kid. Don't you worry!" 

Night smiled at the raven, caressing his head with a gentle finger. "You must take care of each other."

A heavy, awkward silence fell over them and Dream looked forlornly to the floor. He scrubbed childishly at his eyes, valiantly attempting to regain his composure, sniffing intermittently. Finally he straightened his posture and bowed low at the waist, the perfect picture of decorum save for his still hitching breath. "Farewell then, your Excellencies." 

Night dipped his head courteously in response, eyes bright. Time gave a curt nod, eyes downcast. He hooked an arm around Night who sagged into his side, looking briefly to the raven on the young man's shoulder. "I'll leave the window open for you Matthew, don't be a stranger." Then with a despondent sigh, he turned them and they began their way slowly towards the ornate entrance way. 

"Wait!"

They had barely reached the doors of the grand chamber, before Dream raced after them. He threw himself at Night, causing  Dusk and Matthew to take to the air in a flurry of feathers. Hooking his arms tightly about Night's neck and tucking his head determinedly under his chin, Dream snuggled into Night's collar bone as if someone would try and wrench him away. "Goodbye Mother," Dream whispered intimately into Night's skin. 

Night wove his arms about him, hugging back with equal fervour. Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched Dream's curls, "My sweet boy… My sweet child." They stayed there for a while, swaying slightly against each other. Then Night pulled back, unlatching Dream's arms just enough to shrug off his coat and drape it over the light, white tunic that covered Dream's shoulders. It swamped his smaller form, bottom trailing across the floor. But as the  lining of infinite night skies swaddled Dream's body, Night felt the youth's essence wrapped securely within his own and let out an overjoyed breath. "Wear it when you venture forth." He insisted. "So that I may know you are safe." Placing another impassioned kiss to the young man's head. 

Already, the leather was fading from midnight black, to storm cloud grey to a brilliant starshine white. The trailing ends, curving and rippling into soft, rolling vapours of cloud and mist. Dream pushed his arms through the sleeves, and Night laughed wetly as the now bleached cuffs hung ridiculously low over his fingers. 

Time gave an amused huff, "You'll grow into it."

Dream looked questioningly to Time then, who opened his arms wide, a vibrant grin across his face as Dream flung himself into his embrace. A matching beam spread across his lips. "Father." 

Time clutched him to his chest with all his might. As he did so, sand drew from the stone floor beneath them, swirling lazily about them. "We share the sands of Time and creation. Remember, I will be there, in every grain! " He swore resolutely. "Trust it to protect you, to defend you, as I would."

Dream nodded into his shoulder as Time rocked him one last time, then released him. The sand slunk back to the floor, remelding back into the stone. 

Dream looked to both of them beseechingly as Matthew returned to rest upon his shoulder once more. "Visit as much as you are able!" 

"You couldn't keep us away." Time insisted, as Dusk settled carefully upon Night's forearm, mindful of his now bare flesh. 

Dream pulled them to him again, one last time. And stood, nestled happily between them. Behind them, the stained glass windows rippled, before settling peacefully into place. To the left, Night. Resplendent in a gradient gown of dusk to dawn, profile framed in shining moonbeams. From a raised hand, stardust swirled artfully. 

To the right, Time clothed in vibratant robes of nature's rich bounty. Behind him, a sun flared like a golden halo. From an hourglass held proudly aloft, sand flowed in bold sweeps. 

Finally in the centre, stood Dream of the Endless, white and gleaming, head crowned with an intricate circlet of stars. About him, star dust and sand coiled and entwined in a protective embrace. 

……………….. 

Time shouldered the door of the New Inn open with a relieved grunt, ushering Night and Dusk, still perched upon his forearm, through into the dim light of the empty bar.

Behind the counter, Henry, seasoned barkeep and unofficial leader of his motley crew of staff, gave a surprised grunt. His hands still leafing through the day's takings, a flip file, full of neatly recorded figures, open at his side. 

"Rob! I was just closing up. We wondered where you'd dissappeared off to? Not like you to take off without leaving word." He sent Night a friendly smile, giving an interested, yet unsurprised glance at Dusk. "And Morpheus, always good to see you lad."

Night returned a warm, tired smile. Leaning into Time's side with a pleased exhale. Time gave an embarrassed huff, tugging at his ear which immediately had Peter's interest fixed on him. All the power of existence and he still hadn't lost that telling habit. 

" I'm sorry Henry." He apologised sincerely. 

"It was a last minute thing." He gave Night a conspiratorial grin, before declaring with an awkward beam . "We may.. have gotten married."

He felt the steady, slow thrum of the old man's life force blast into a concerto, as Henry laughed disbelieving. Rounding the bar in a flash, he delivered a firm slap to Time's arm, which Time noted, felt like an insect had accidentally collided with him. Before he grabbed Night's hand and shook it vigorously. "Robert you old dog!! Congratulations, congratulations! And you didn't tell a soul?!" 

Time shared a flustered look with Night before shrugging. "It was kind of a shotgun situation."

Henry laughed riotously at that. Giving Time's arm another firm slap. "Oh I bet it was, I bet. Trust you Robbie. I'd ask, are you going to carry your husband over the threshold, but you both look dead on your feet." He looked towards the kitchens, then gave them a kind smile, gesturing towards their regular table. "How about I get the kettle on before I go? And I think there's some of Martha's cheesecake left in the back."

Time all but collapsed into his chair. Giving an exhausted grumble as he dragged a chair from the nearest table across to sit at their side. Night gently manoeuvred Dusk onto its top rail. Before gracefully taking his usual seat. 

" That would be heavenly Henry. Thank you!"

Time glanced at Night, taking in his worn out, but contented expression. His dark hair spilled over his shoulder, the slightest glimmer of something more than a natural reflective sheen, trailing down it in the low light. Pulling a hand through his own locks, he checked covertly, still auburn. Good. He was using more energy than he wished in his drained state to keep his appearance fixed. But it was worth it to be back. 

Henry bustled out from the kitchen, arms loaded with plates and cups the way only a practised waiter could. "There we are." He placed mugs full of steaming tea infront if Time and Night. Then followed it with three plates of delectable looking cake. One for each of them. And one placed proudly down in front of Dusk. Who gave it an indifferent stare. "And some for this beauty. I remember Matthew always liked his own portion. Where is the little blighter then?" 

Night sat his tea down regally into its saucer. Before responding, "My son has just taken up his own residence. I left Matthew with him so they may look after each other." 

"Uni is it?" Henry asked, not waiting for any sign of confirmation as he pushed a plate of now broken up crumbs and cream eagerly towards Dusk. "I remember when it was my Tom. The wife cried buckets. They grow up so fast ey?" 

Night nodded in solemn agreement. "Indeed. It was only mere days ago he was a toddler."

Time smirked into his teacup as Henry, having given up trying to convince Dusk to eat, gave Night a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Oh ay, I know that feeling well."

He righted a few of the chairs and tables around them. Before giving Night a mischievous grin. "But you're pulling my leg. You're not old enough to have a boy closing in on twenty."

Night returned his smirk with an equally playful quirk of his mouth. "You would be surprised, Henry."

Chortling, Henry returned to the bar, packing up the last of the day's business. "Well, time has been very kind to you then. You lucky bugger!"

At that, Night fixed Time with an adoring look. "Oh, far kinder than I often deserved Henry." 

Time reached out his hand across the table, resting it gently, palm up on the table. Night, sent him a small, loving smile before placing his own hand down upon it delicately, fingers twining about each other's wrists. 

The sound of a few doors slamming shut echoed about the room, then Henry emerged again, shrugging on his jacket, making his way towards the door. He gave the couple a tender look, before motioning to the exit. "Well, now that you're both settled in. I'll let myself out. Robbie, and ofcourse our new Mr Gadling. It's good to have you home." He raised a hand in farewell, then left, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Time leant back in his chair, exhaling in satisfaction. He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet thrum of existence from the furniture, the walls, the streets and city beyond, as their life force slowly turned ever forward. If he concentrated, he could feel the rotations of the Earth beneath his feet. Somewhere beyond, he gave her a gentle spin, trailing his finger through her oceans. 

Home. 

…………….. 

Sol peeked his head inquisitively over the horizon. His first rays spilled down the streets of London, rippled upon the waves of the Thames, their soft glows illuminating through window curiously, searching for his new master. Fluttering gaily between his beams, an ethereal feminine figure, twirling in robes of white, blue and pink, tapped at each plane of glass and laughed joyfully. At one window, she peaked, giggled mischievously, then disappeared in a flurry of bird song and dew. 

On the little window box that sat in front, an owl, pale and opalescent as the morning haze, eyes gleaming and golden as the sunrise, landed gracefully beside their darker twin. Dawn chirruped to her sister in joyful greeting. Before snuggling into her side and joining her in a peaceful slumber as the sky lightened. 

Within the room, two figures knelt on the bed, one astride the other, slim pale back pressed against a broad furred chest, sheets twined about their legs. 

Night cracked his eyes open and watched his handmaid's antics with disinterest. A second later, sols rays streamed into the room, setting their bodies aglow with triumph. Scrunching his eyes, Night tipped back his head, letting it rest upon his husband's shoulder. Be gone Sol! He felt the rays soften in apology, their heat trailing across his skin in pardon, before the beams departed, the sun continuing on its journey. 

He felt Time quicken his lazy thrusts, force intensifying, aim sharpening and let out a pleased, drawn moan. Trailing his hands up his husbands thighs, he rested them at his hips, feeling the surge of each upward rock. Tightening his own hips, he clenched down on Time's length, drawing up, hold taut before dropping back vigour. Infinitely smug when he heard a pleasured groan by his ear and the seconds of the digital clock before him leap back and forth erratically. 

"Be careful my love, remember where you are." 

Time brought a binding arm about his waist and snapped his hips up as he locked him in place. Night let out a shriek as flames roared through his nerves. 

In the pale blue skies above, Venus blinked confusedly back into sight. Searching in bewilderment for the source of her summons, before twinkling good humouredly, blazing one last time in salutation. Then subtly disappearing from the rising morn again.

Time smiled amused into Night's nape. "You remember." Then adjusting his hold, he twisted them both with ease, bringing Night with a forceful slam to support himself with frantic hands against the bedhead. Resting his own palms upon the wall directly behind, Time began to pound into Night with an unforgiving pace. Leaving him able to do nothing but writhe desperately, screeching in pleasure with each powerful thrust. 

"That's right" Time panted hotly. "My Morpheus, my beautiful darkness, my nightingale. Sing for me!"

If anyone was by the riverfront that early morning. They may have seen the waves of the great Themesis rise in a sudden, inexplicable swell. The current escalating in a rapid, powerful flow, rocking the tour boats moored along its banks violently. Then, with a sudden great surge, it settled. 

Below, Martha Lewis, the keys to the New Inn still swinging idly from her fingers, looked to the ceiling, shook her head with an amused chuckle. Then set about readying the ovens for the morning ahead. 

In their little flat above, Night and Time laid entwined together on the bed, letting the vibrations of awakening life around them sweep over them. Time trailed a finger idly across Night's side. "I have been thinking, love. I would rather like us to stay... Here on Earth." He said haltingly. "For a while." 

Night smiled at him sweetly, sweeping in to place a tender kiss upon his lips. "Of course my love. If it brings you peace we can stay until the horsemen ride. If that is what you wish. It is but the blink of an eye for us after all."

Time gave a satisfied hum, pulling Night  to him to lay upon his chest. "Together forever," He declared with serene ecstasy. 

Night gave a fond smile, stoking down Time's chest hair with relish. Trailing his fingers lightly down its path, teasing as it thinned over lower stomach, then grew abundant again at the base of his husband's flagging manhood. He dug his hands into the public curls, massaging. Watching as Time's cock perk once more at the attention. "No one has forever my love, not truly. A life with no end, even for those such as we, is implausible." 

Time's hips began to rock and Night took him in hand, pumping languidly. They shared a sultry kiss, Time drawing back, giving Night a challenging, entertained leer." Wanna bet?" 

Night huffed, eyes darkening in arousal before tightening his grip about his husband. "Care to prove me wrong, my love?" 

Time arched, slapping hungrily at the pert swell of his husband's arse. Kneading his fingers into the pale flesh with a playful grin. "Always!" 

Night gave a warm chuckle. "If anyone can will true eternal life into existence." He whispered huskily. "It shall be you Hob Gadling." He then placed an adoring peck to Time's chin, then collar bone, then rib cage. Trailing his way slowly downwards before giving a final impish nip to the skin just below Time's belly button. Sending his husband a sensual, promising glance as he slunk down with predatory grace to claim his prize. 

The unusual activity that beset the city of London that day was written off, quietly and conveniently, in the most British of fashions, as being 'A bit strange.' In the Threshold, Desire kicked their heels and purred in bliss, as their realm puslated with raw power around them. 

…………….. 

Three Months Later 

"You're absolutely sure this is what you want, duck?" 

Night looked to Time, nodding with conviction, before turning his attention back to the ruined structure before him. At his shoulder, Dawn gazed, intrigued at the decrepit building, just about able to keep itself standing. Her pale feathers glistened in the afternoon sun, beautifully contrasting Night's attire of deep blues and blacks. 

Time clapped his hands together with finality, giving the small woman by his side an excited grin." Right, well. Consider it a deal then, Mrs Crowther. Thank you for being open to our request." 

Mrs Crowther, a tiny woman, with hair pristinely gelled into place and a prim badge at her breast, declaring her name and position within the local council, sagged with relief. 

"Oh it's our pleasure really Mr Gadling. With our budget reduced as it is, renovation was completely out of the question. And what with the countless petitions we've had fighting its demolition. Well, it would have just continued to sit here. You did us a favour taking it off our hands."

She gave them an intrigued glance, obviously fighting her own curiosity before asking," May I enquire what your plans are?" 

Time looked to the building, hands waving expressively, as if trying to draw out an invisible portrait for her." Reconstruction, as much as possible! There's so much history in the place you know! It'd be a shame to lose it. Then a private house. Lots of room for the family to visit and plenty of space to run the business."

Mrs Crowther instantly perked at that. "Oh, what are you in?" 

"Clocks." Time said with all the believability of a lying child, caught mid transgression. "Morpheus is an astrophysicist." Mrs Crowther shot an openly questioning look in Night's direction. Lingering with a raised eyebrow on the owl perched at his shoulder and the opulent clasp, adorned with stars, holding his hair in a loose half ponytail. She probably thought they were some kind of criminal elite, Time surmised. Ah well, at least it would help to keep away unwanted attention. 

She gave them a strained, if polite smile. "Oh, lovely." Then looked to her car wistfully, before turning back to them with an overly enthusiastic demeanour. "Well I'll leave you two to it shall I? I'll get the paperwork sent across this afternoon Mr Gadling." She shook Time's hand once more before striding away as quickly as civility allowed. 

With an enthused leap, Time bound to the doorway, placing his hand upon the frame, feeling the wood begin to strengthen under his palm. "I'll breathe some life back into the old girl. Restoring her just wasn't possible before. But now, if I give her just enough of a boost." He turned giddily to Night, who sauntered towards him with a pleased smile. "I'll get the team that covers wear and tear at the New Inn for the rest. Good lads. And there'll be no questions asked about  how it miraculously sprang back to life that way."

He turned in a circle, taking in the railing, closing off the property with interest. "We can put up a perimeter wall, for a bit of privacy. And gardens running all the way down to the river!" His growing excitement caused bunches of dandelions to surge optimistically in clumps  around the land site. 

Bounding back to the building, Time gave the wall a hearty slap. Dawn ruffled her feathers at the hail of dust it caused to rain down on them. 

"The downstairs, a reception hall, dining room, throne room. She'll break more laws of physics then the inside of the tardis when I'm done!  And upstairs, a private area for the family. A grand library for you love. And a master and seven suits for the family." 

"Eight my lord." Dawn interrupted in a polite yet chipper tone.

Time stilled, before turning to the owl with a dazed expression. "What was that Dawn?" 

Dawn preened Night's hair, as Time watched his beloved's eyes glance anywhere but him. 

"Young sire shall be requiring eight rooms for the children, not seven." Dawn proclaimed with merry assurity. 

Time moved not an inch for a minute before tenderly taking Night's hands in his own. A look of disbelieving awe in his eyes as he tried desperately to fight his growing elation.

"Night, my Darkness?" 

Night's eyes rose to meet his, comets shooting a blazing trail within, leaving vibrant paths of gleaming dust in their wake. "Eight." He admitted, with a blissful smile. Time's answering beam shone like the very spark of creation itself. 

"Do you know their name yet?" 

Night gave a slight smirk, stepping into Time's arms and whispering to his lips, 

"It appears you have proved me wrong yet again, husband mine. They shall be… Eternity."

Behind them, within the husk of the White Horse, the ancient hearth roared to life.

(Yup... They're starting their own little brood of cosmic munshkins, and moving to the next letter of the alphabet. 😆 For anyone interested, Dusk and Dawn are based very heavily of European Eagle Owls. They're a large species of owl who are crepuscularx, meaning they hunt at dusk and dawn when the light has not fully set or come out. It seemed apt.

Well that's it! My very first full length fanfic is complete! I did it!! (Insert a high pitched squeee!) A huge thank you to everyone who took a chance on this random headcanon of a fic. And massive outpourings of love for all your fabulous comments, likes and reblogs. And a humongous thanks once again to @ibrithir-was-here @kat-wick and @mashumaru for your phenomenonal artwork. I think I'm going to go lay down now. 😅)

#Dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #daniel hall #daniel!dream #time!hob #night!morpheus #father time #mother night #the sandman #The sandman fanic #dreamling fanfic #the sandman au

[camille-lachenille]

Fourth Age headcanons (part 1/?):

Aragorn and Arwen's children: Eldarion, Tindómiel and Tinwërínel, Eldalótë

About the picture: Eldarion is wearing the ring of Barahir as well as the Elessar. Tindómiel favours dark colours, especially the royal colours of Gondor, and a few pieces of jewellery. Tiwërínel prefers a lighter and brighter palette for her clothes, and most of her wardrobe is inspired by Elvish fashion. Eldalótë wears bright colours and Elvish cut gowns, and she prefers pearl jewelery.

Eldarion always looks grave and thoughtful (he’s got his dad’s resting bitch face) but is actually very kind and optimistic. He makes for a good king in times of peace, close to his people and always ready to improve their life conditions. One of his chief missions is to expand the school system his mother established even to the most remote parts of the kingdom and founding affordable universities, the most famed being led by his sister. He is very fond of the sea, and spends as much of his time as he can in the coastal regions of his kingdom. He meets his wife, Medliniel, in Dol-Amroth, and they have a daughter, Míriel, who succeeds him on the throne.

Tindómiel and Tinwërínel are twins, born four years after Eldarion.

Tindómiel is stern and studious, preferring the company of old books to people. She is fiercely protective of her family and, much to the amusement of her parents inherited many of Elrond's mannerisms, notably his Disappointed GlareTM. Famed lore mistress, Tindómiel is the Lady of Isengard and dedicates her life to cataloguing and archiving all the things Saruman and his predecessors left in the tower of Orthanc, turning it in a high place of knowledge and studies in the Reunited Kingdom. She remains unwed but considers all the women of Gondor, Arnor, Rohan and beyond she taught as her daughters. She names one of her great-nieces as her heiress, declaring that the fiefdom of Isengard should always be ruled by a woman since men brought only ruin there. The Ladies of Isengard become known across all of Middle-Earth for their wisdom and knowledge.

Tinwërínel is as extroverted as her twin is introverted and she thrives in the political landscape of the Reunited Kingdom. Clever politician and ruthless diplomat, or vice versa depending of the situation, she is one of her father's most trusted advisors and he names her Stewardess of Arnor. Tinwërínel has to abdicate the function when she marries Elboron and becomes Princess of Ithilien, but she remains an active politician even as she raises three sons, and is part of her brother's council. She remains widowed at the age of 110 and returns to Annúminas where she is Chief Advisor of the Steward of Arnor until her death, several decades later.

Eldalótë, born seven years after the twins, is the splitting image of her mother, with her father’s love for wild places and his gift for healing. She is more than happy to be the youngest of the family, as it allows her to travel and explore without any care for politics. When in Gondor, Eldalótë spends most of her time studying the arts of healing, be it in Minas Tirith or beside Éowyn. It is during one of her stays in Ithilien that she meets Elfwine of Rohan, and they quickly start a secret courtship. They wed the year after she comes of age, making her queen of Rohan much to her dismay and her family’s amusement. Despite her initial reluctance, Eldalótë settles well enough in her role and dedicates much of her rule to building Houses of Healing in Edoras. She outlives her husband and, once their son is secure in his rule, Eldalótë leaves Rohan and divides her time between Minas Tirith, Orthanc and Annúminas. She is remembered in Rohan for her great kindess and constant cheerfulness.

About Eldarion's daughter under the cut:

King Eldarion of the House Telcontar, second king of the Reunited Kingdom, his wife Medliniel and their only daughter Míriel

About the picture: Eldarion didn't change his style much as he appears here in his regalia. Míriel is wearing her formal court attire, icluding the ring of Barahir and the Elessar. The cut of her sleeves is a nod to her Elven ancestry while imitating a cape at the same time, which gives her more freedom of movement than wearing an actual cape. Medliniel comes from lesser nobility and she is more comfortable wearing simpler clothes (compared to her husband and daughter) and favours blue, the colour od Dol Amroth, over red and black.

CW mentions of miscarriage

Eldarion meets Medliniel in Dol-Amroth and it is love at first sight for the both of them. They wed after the shortest courtship and engagement possible without seeming entirely inappropriate and are expecting a child within the year. Unfortunately, Medliniel looses the baby and it takes them a long time before trying again. Medliniel miscarries twice more before finally giving birth to a healthy little girl they name Míriel. Eldarion and Medliniel commonly agree not to try for more children because another pregnancy could be fatal to her. They cherish their daughter and make sure she gets the best possible education as a future queen.

Míriel spends most of her childhood with her parents doting on her, but she also makes long stays by her various aunts and cousins to perfection her education. She studies history and ancient lore in Orthanc under the strict instruction of Tindómiel, rides wildly across Rohan with Eldalótë and learns the subtlety of both ruling and motherhood by her aunt Tinwërinel’s side. Strong minded and free hearted, Míriel has three children without ever marrying, though she openly lives with her lover and make no secret he is the father of her children.

When she becomes the first Ruling Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, Míriel continues many of the social refoms started by her father and grandfather. Her greatest accomplishent is to see Osgiliath fully restored to its former glory and, by the end of her reign, she even moves the capital from Minas Tirith back to Osgiliath. Her reign is highly controversed by the nobility but she is well loved by her people, especially the women. In fact, Míriel leads a great reform of the laws revolving around family, marriage and inheritance, and made sure women had equal rights over their children with their husband. She also funded a network of shelters for abused women and children.

And I'll stop here before turning this massive post into a fully fleshed fanfiction.

Next post of this series will be about Tinwërínel and Eldalótë's lives and their children.

#Tindomiel is ace and lesbian she and doesn't like men very much as a rule #she took a look at the mess left in Orthanc by Saruman and whoever lived there before him and went “nah thanks I'll take over from now on” #also the doll maker is back baby! i went crazy with it and i’m not done. #tolkien #the lord of the rings #fourth age #aragorn #arwen #eldarion #headcanons #original characters #fourth age headcanons series

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Lucy Pevensie

Have feral Lucy, as a treat. The other parts for the other siblings are up on my blog if you wish to read it.

.

The boy reaches out with a lewd grin, and Lucy’s blood burns. She turns around, grips the boy’s arm and moves.

A second later, he is on his knees at her feet, her fisting a hand in his hair and twisting his arm behind his back. Her lips pull back into a wolf-like snarl as Howard lets out a yell, and she twists his arm harder with fingers smaller than she is used to having, vindictive pleasure coiling in her gut when his breath hitches with an even louder sob.

“YOU WILL NOT,” she roars with all her might, ignoring the way her voice is not as loud and commanding as it used to be, ignoring the shocked gasps and astonished stares of the rest of the students of the school, “TOUCH ME WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!”

The other boy— James, she remembers the teachers calling him— comes at her with his fist raised and a yell on his lips, but she kicks him in the back of his knee, hard enough that she feels something crack under her Mary Jane shoe. He lets out a pained scream and crumples like a can of soda would under her foot, and her snarl turns into a too wide grin, just on the wrong side of feral; it is a move Peter had taught her twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years.

She never bothered to separate her home world from this one.

Her blood rushes through her veins like fire, and she pulls on Howard’s hair till his neck is bared, and her eyes zero in on the beating pulse under his jaw. She can almost feel the way the crimson life flows through his body, the way it would flow over his skin if she had her dagger. She would drag the blade over his flesh in a vicious, vengeful slice for the slight upon her person— he dares touch her?

He dares feel entitled to her presence? To her affections? To her body?

She is Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia. She is the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, the Fourth of the Beloved Four, Lover of the People. She is greater and more powerful than he could ever hope to be, and he dares commit the crime of touching her?

She bares her teeth at the thought and twists his arm till she feels his shoulder pop out of place. Her canines elongate and dig into her lower lips even as her blood boils and bubbles, clamouring for punishment to be given and for vengeance to be taken in the form of his lifeblood.

He dared to touch you, Narnia whispers in her ear, tempting her with the fantasy of letting his blood colour her hands crimson. Punish him for his grave mistake, my Queen. Make him pay for this transgression.

There was a time when she would have killed him within seconds for having the audacity of trying to slap her behind. She would have made an example of him for the world to see— she might be young, but she is neither foolish nor meek, and she refuses to be disrespected in such an appalling fashion. If not her, then her siblings surely would have rendered him nothing more than a stain on the ground for daring to try and dishonour the youngest of the Rulers of Narnia.

She breathes in. Blinks. An image of her fingers curling around the golden hilts of her daggers, of burying them in the enemies’ guts and letting herself bathe in the spray of their blood, flashes across her vision. She breathes out, and blinks again. She is in the middle of the school courtyard, fingers wrapping tight around Howard’s forearm and twisted into his short and coarse golden locks.

She is not in Narnia.

She fell out of that wardrobe with her siblings five and a half years ago— she is fourteen and her blood still burns her insides at the reminder that she is not twenty-seven years old. It still scorches the inner lining of her blood vessels at the reminder of not being in her home country, of not being with Mr Tumnus and the fauns, of not running through the forests with her daggers at her sides and her network of espionage agents at her beck and call.

She breathes through her nose and lets go of his arm only to reach for his neck and grip tightly, feeling a sick sense of gratification when she feels his breath hitch fearfully under her palm, and feels the pumping of his blood through his jugular against the tips of her fingers. She tugs harder on his hair, and revels in the whine that echoes in his throat as she straightens up and rakes a narrow-eyed glare over the gawking students.

“Hear ye!” she calls, lips curling into a vindictive smirk when people stiffen their spines at the fury in the little teenage girl voice that is not hers, that has not been hers for decades. It rings with the royal Narnian accent that neither she nor her siblings ever managed to lose, and she lets the accent get stronger, she lets the lilt of the Narnian magic carry her voice over the courtyard.

“Consider the following as both a warning and a threat,” she announces, and her voice echoes strangely through the air, like she has a microphone held in front of her, “henceforth, any unwanted contact with my person will be met with the most violent of retaliations. Either it will be me, or my eldest brother Peter who does it, but know that blood will be drawn.”

The mention of Peter has most of the boys quailing and looking away, shoulders curling inwards and cheeks flushing at the reminder that Lucy has an absolute beast of an older brother— over six feet and built like a bull, with wide shoulders and a face permanently set in a grim expression. Peter’s fencing skills are legendary, and he is infamous for hitting till bone breaks. It makes Lucy smile a vicious little smile; her royal brother is terrifying, and she is proud to be Queen next to him and their other siblings.

It also makes her blood beat an outraged tune against her pulse points— she is no less terrifying than her oldest brother, and it is high time that people learnt to respect her for her strength and status. She is Queen just as much as her brothers are Kings and her sister is Queen, and she deserves to have her titles acknowledged. If they refuse to do so, then she will force them to their knees and make them do it.

She finds Peter easily when she looks for him; he is sitting in a tree with Susan and Edmund, hidden from the rest of the world, their trademark Pevensie blue eyes all gleaming wildly with pride and encouragement. Edmund grins sharply and whispers something at her, and she hears the lilting Narnian in his voice even though he is too far away for any normal human to be able to hear him.

Ruen’hi vraeka, he has always called her fondly, much to her eternal amusement. Blood-covered dragon.

“LUCY ANNE PEVENSIE!”

She breathes in and out through her nose, and turns calmly towards the advancing form mistress, clenching her jaw at the anger etched into the wrinkles of the old woman.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS, YOUNG LADY?

She resigns herself to the one month of detentions, but her blood burns.

Her blood is like fire as it pounds in her ears, outrage bubbling in her gut and showing in the flash of her blue-eyed glare as it pans from the yelling form mistress to the rest of the students and then finally on the two boys at her feet. They still haven’t stood up, in too much pain to do anything more than groan in pain and wipe their tears and snotty noses on their sleeves.

They should be falling at my feet, she thinks savagely. They should be on their knees begging for forgiveness, for mercy. In fact, the school faculty themselves should also be at her feet, begging for forgiveness for the audacity of raising their voices at her and her siblings.

How dare they deem themselves capable of handing out punishment to a King or Queen of Narnia? To all four Kings and Queens of Narnia? Who are they to try and punish her, Queen Lucy the Valiant? Who are they to deem themselves appropriate authority to discipline the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, Fourth of the Beloved Four?

Lucy’s blood burns, but she lets herself be dragged to the headmaster’s office, taking one last glance at her siblings. The sight of their gazes fixed on the two injured boys makes her mouth stretch into a feral smile even as she bristles indignantly at the form mistress’ grip on the shoulder of the body that has not been hers since she first stepped into that wardrobe.

Narnia hums in her ears, a sweet siren song of bloody retribution.

That night, when she sleeps, she dreams of gripping the two idiot boys by their hair and ripping their throats out with her teeth.

#lucy pevensie #the pevensies #pevensie siblings #lww #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #the chronicles of narnia #narnia meta #narnia #matching misfortunes #lucy is my tiny feral child and i shall tolerate no disrespect towards her #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie