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valeriianz · 2 months

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Summary: Part 2 of my Hard of Hearing!Dream. Part 1 here! Dream struggles with his new disability and Hob tries to help... along with Dream's new friend, Jessamy.

Square/Prompt: A1 - Why Did You Do It?

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: human AU, deaf!Dream, angst, happy ending, established relationship

Fill for @dreamlingbingo! (thank you @mallory-x for the read through!)

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When Dream turned 30, he celebrated it in a crowded bar that doubled as an art gallery, close to his apartment. It was his favorite bar, because it was an eclectic gallery first, with a bar open for events. Luckily, there was a local exhibit on the night of Dream’s birthday and he knew it would be the perfect place to celebrate. This way, he could appease his friends who wanted to go out and drink and celebrate, and Dream could stare at art and make a quick escape if need be. It gave a chance for everyone to focus on anything else but him after the initial round of shots.

Hob never took his focus off Dream, though. Even when they would float away to opposite sides of the room, Dream would turn his head and find Hob staring at him, smiling at being caught before turning his attention back to the person he was in conversation with.

At that point, it had been two and a half years since Dream had told Hob about his diagnosis… that he would go permanently deaf. In that time, he did indeed completely lose his hearing in his left ear, but his right was still working pretty well. He had just gotten used to tilting his head slightly to the left so people would understand to talk directly into his good ear.

And Hob was still here. Patient, sweet, loving Hob. Who Dream secretly had a crush on probably since they were first introduced. They’d moved in together last year, and while there were some bumps in the road, complications that arose with moving in with a lover, Dream was surprised to find that he was… happy.

He couldn’t stand it, sometimes, how happy Hob made him. Even his friends had noticed how he smiled more, seemed to have a more positive outlook on life and even on his disability. And it felt natural, like Hob just brought out all the good traits about Dream, like they had been lying dormant and just needed the confidence, the reassurance that he was allowed to feel this way. This happy.

And then, 45 days after Dream’s birthday party, he woke up to Hob shaking him awake, because he was sleeping through his alarm that was apparently blasting through his phone.

But Dream couldn’t hear him. Or the alarm.

He watched with horrifying realization, as Hob’s lips moved, hovering over him, but no words came out.

So much for five years.

Hob had clocked Dream’s blank stare relatively quick, his lips shaping the letters of Dream’s name with a hand on his face, Hob’s brows pinched up and–

Dream cried.

He felt foolish for it. He knew this would happen eventually. He just thought he’d have more time.

Dream speaks with his audiologist the next day, with Hob by his side. Dream had wondered about hearing aids while he still had a modicum of hearing, but had been hesitant. His insurance barely covered them and, while hearing aids may have helped in the past, after several tests, his audiologist confirmed with Dream that now, they wouldn’t even be able to pick up background noise. They wouldn’t help at all.

Dream and Hob had left the office with defeat hanging heavy in the air. Mostly from Dream.

He’s not proud of the person he had been in the week following his permanent hearing loss.

But in time (and therapy), Dream was able to move on. And it really wasn’t so bad, once Dream accepted that this was his life now.

If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still hear Hob’s voice, especially with his lips pressed against his throat, behind his ear, murmuring sweetness into his skin and sending vibrations into his skull. It’s one of the most calming things Dream has ever experienced; laying in bed with Hob, in the absolute darkness and absolute silence, his remaining senses heightened, it’s both relaxing and unexpectedly erotic. To feel Hob completely surrounding him, grounding Dream, warm and solid and safe, it lights Dream up from the inside and reassures him that everything would be okay.

And in time, Dream comes to appreciate the silence. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. Living in a large city, with constant chatter, cars honking and sirens blazing, used to be a sensory nightmare; that creeping, prickling feeling of overstimulation has vanished and now it’s just… nothingness.

It was scary at first, Dream would be a fool to not admit it; watching the world continue around him, people living their lives, living his own life, all in absolute silence. Not being able to hear the beep of the microwave, indicating when his food was done, or water coming out of the faucet while he washed dishes, or the sizzle of oil in a pan while cooking… little things that Dream had never really perceived whilst hearing them every day. All of that sound just– gone. Like hitting the mute button on a movie.

Dream tries to convince himself that he doesn’t miss the mundane noises, he could barely hear them anyway… but he often feels lost without them. So learning to welcome the quiet was the only way Dream could stay sane.

Though going deaf after decades of being able to hear (albeit poorly) and speak gave Dream the advantage of continuing to communicate in spoken English. He still has an inner voice, can still read lips very well, and so the communication gap with his friends and even strangers isn’t as wide as Dream had feared.

It makes learning sign language difficult. Dream at first did not take the lessons very seriously, especially with Hob being the only person to practice with, in those early days. Hob did help, though; he fumbles and signs broken ASL and Dream fumbles back. But it had been so easy to fall back on the habit of using his voice. But as months turn into a full year, Dream learns by trial and error that he realistically can’t continue traversing through a hearing world without sign language.

The hardest challenge he’d run into, for example… Dream never thought he’d need to prove his deafness.

Of course people get confused when he can speak perfect English, out in public spaces like a cafe or a bookshop, only to then turn around and seemingly ignore everyone around him. It is a strange experience, for Dream, to go around communicating as usual, speaking when he can’t even hear his own voice and reading lips. But he can’t be constantly on the lookout for anybody trying to get his attention. Watching belatedly as someone he had been exchanging dialogue with, roll their eyes and walk away in a huff. Dream truthfully has no idea how he might come off to a complete stranger who can’t realize that he’s deaf. Rude, perhaps. Or uncaring.

It’s enough to convince Dream to get fake hearing aids… he feels ridiculous wearing them, like he’s giving in to a social construct that only exists in his own head. But, annoyingly, while wearing them, the way people communicate and treat him improves exponentially.

Funny, that.

Hob, of course, notices.

“When did you get these?” He touches the little device in Dream’s ear, his fingers turning into a caress. “I thought aids didn’t work for you?”

Hob speaks while he signs, they both do, to help make the hand motions stick. Though Hob often slips up and signs exact English, not proper American Sign Language, which he’s doing now. It doesn’t help in the learning process, but it’s a start, and Dream has no leg to stand on when it comes to corrections.

Dream swipes his index finger across his nose.

“Fake.”

Dream offers no more explanation, turning a page in the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the couch, Hob properly facing the TV, and Dream lounging sideways, his legs draped over Hob’s lap.

Hob taps the edge of Dream’s book, getting his attention once more.

“You’d rather put a sign on you that announces to the world you're deaf?”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back.

“I know I shouldn’t have to…” Dream starts, his fingers fumbling, a new sign of nervousness he never thought he’d had before. “But it might make things easier.”

“Things?” Hob finger spells, his hands coming down, palms up, in a sign of confusion.

Dream moves a hand to his mouth.

“Communication,” and then to his ear, “understanding.”

Hob’s brows furrow and Dream slowly looks back to his book.

Dream wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Remembering how difficult it became, living together, after Dream lost his hearing permanently. Hob would forget that Dream couldn’t hear, which was frustrating enough, but the slip-ups were near constant in the beginning.

They’d get into arguments over it, a flame that Dream wasn’t proud to admit he’d always fanned. He hated that his hackles were constantly rising, always on the offensive, like Dream was expecting Hob to take the bait and fight back. That would, of course, spiral into meaningless fights over something stupid like leaving the laundry in the dryer for too long, or forgetting to pick up a particular ingredient they needed for dinner at the grocery store.

Dream was ashamed to admit he didn’t help in the situations, often coping out by just– not looking at Hob so he couldn’t see his lips moving or his awkward signing. He’d turn around and stomp away and Hob would be left to chase after him, hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they could communicate.

It got easier… Hob was so patient with Dream. He never got so angry he would give up. He always apologized, even when Dream was just being dramatic.

Hob knows by now that Dream would never take the easy route. And sure enough, Dream ditches the fake hearing aids. With them on, people started treating him with gloves on, or stare at him nervously, wondering how to approach. It’s frustrating and annoying– how Dream can’t seem to find a middle ground.

It takes unloading to his new deaf friends about Hob; seeking advice for how to temper these unexpected feelings of disappointment and changes in Dream himself… they never used to fight, before Dream lost his hearing. This is unknown territory for the both of them.

Dream had discovered the community in his city, for deaf people. He’d found a meetup online, after his therapist suggested looking into attending the weekly meetups.

As always, Dream was at first skeptical. His sign language was still spotty at best, and he wasn’t a social guy even when he could hear so. He wasn’t hopeful.

Luckily the deaf community in his city is more than accepting of him, patient when he slips and signs exact English. And when Dream is done airing out his grievances, they encourage patience with Hob. That having a hearing partner is always going to be a struggle, but Hob is clearly coming from a place of compassion and wants to learn. That’s more than can be said for most people.

Dream feels foolish, all the sudden, for his actions against Hob, looking sideways at Jessamy. She was one of the founders of these d/Deaf meetings, and they clicked immediately. Unlike most of their peers in the group, she too had been born hearing and then lost it due to illness. Her and Dream were a lot alike, though she was older and had been wading through this new world for over two decades. She was fluent in ASL, and didn’t even speak while communicating.

“It’s considered rude to speak here, during these meetups,” she had explained during Dream’s first time with the group.

Jessamy becomes something like a confidant for Dream. She too has a hearing partner, Matthew. The amount she and Dream have in common is almost frightening. But in time Dream discovers it’s nice… to be seen. To be understood. She helps Dream comprehend the beauty of the silence even more. And that they can still attend hearing events just as before.

So with her encouragement, a few months down the line, Dream and Hob join her and Matthew at a music festival. Jessamy excitedly points out interpreters several of the bands have on stage, and Dream feels a bit of relief. He can also feel the vibrations all around him from the loud speakers, though it’s not as pronounced as they would be in a venue with wooden floors; the earth beneath their feet grounds the pulsating bass lines to something dull and unrecognizable.

Dream’s not quite fluent enough in ASL to understand every word the interpreters use, especially at the speed they’re going in to keep up with the song, but he gets the gist. And he has to admit it’s… fun, doing this. He hadn’t been to a concert or music festival in almost five years, and spending it with both Hob and his new friends is nice. It’s easy to stay within their safe space and not feel pressured to speak with strangers or awkwardly ignore them; everyone here minds their own business and in time, Dream loosens up.

After finding available, good seats for the next band they’d all agreed on, Hob and Dream set out to the nearest vendor to grab drinks and snacks for the four of them, while Jessamy and Matthew hold down the fort, so to speak.

While standing in line, Hob asks if Dream is enjoying himself. And, surprisingly, Dream is. He says as much with a smile and taking a playful nudge from Hob.

As the line shrinks and they come closer to the counter, Dream’s gaze moves from the short menu taped to the window to the man taking orders. His lips move sluggishly and hesitantly, speaking with an accent that makes it difficult for Dream to parse. But it doesn’t phase him, what everyone wants is on the menu and the transaction should be simple.

Now, Hob could just place the order for him– for all of them, but Dream had been determined, lately, to converse in transactions like this himself. It was good practice not only for Dream, but also whoever was taking his order as well. To learn patience and practice his communication skills. It was a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was easy. If a cashier or barista or medical professional had trouble exchanging words with Dream, well, that’s what he carried a pen and pocketbook around for.

The person in front of them moves to the pickup counter and Dream sees the man behind the counter call out what must be a, “Next!” but the way his lips move, it looks more like, “Nect!”

Dream swallows and signs as he speaks, to– hopefully– indicate how this would potentially be a one-sided conversation.

“Two orders of fries, one mac and cheese, three shots of Bacardi, one shot of vodka, and a lemonade, please.”

The man barely looks at Dream while he types the order into an iPad. Dream nods, mostly to himself, and looks down as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

When he looks back up, the man is in the middle of saying something to him.

Dream’s brows wrinkle.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.”

After he speaks and signs, Dream offers up his card, assuming the man just told him the total.

But the man visibly sighs and leans forward a bit, his mouth opening widely.

Dream focuses but only manages to make out the words “fries,” “double,” and “which do you want?”

“Um…” Dream licks his bottom lip. “One more time? Slowly, please.”

With a truly agitated face now, the man moves his lips again, but as Dream studies them, hoping to fill in the words he missed, instead new words are added and Dream finds himself stumped.

“Fries, yes. And singles, for the shots,” he guesses.

The man types something into his iPad but looks again at Dream with a growing look of irritation in his gaze. Dream looks behind him and sees a line of customers, before facing the man again, once again catching him in mid speech.

“Hold on,” Dream grumbles, settling the card down and digging through his pocket for the pen and paper. “Clearly I am deaf and raising your voice is not helping–”

Dream nearly jumps as Hob steps up suddenly to the counter, almost getting in front of Dream.

They exchange a few words before finally Hob nods and hands the guy his own card.

Dream stands silent, his pocket notebook in his hand and blinking slowly at Hob, who gives him a sheepish smile over his shoulder before nodding again to the man and taking both their cards back as well as the receipt.

They walk to the pickup counter without exchanging a word, meanwhile something begins to burn the back of Dream’s neck, prickling down his arms and coiling in his stomach.

Dream tugs on Hob’s arm as they settle next to the mobile vendor.

“What just happened?” He doesn’t speak. Dream can’t find his voice right now.

Hob rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on something behind Dream.

“No french fries,” he signs without confidence. “Curly fries only.”

Dream blinks. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut tightening.

“Did you just order for me?”

Hob’s shoulders deflate, nodding.

Dream gapes like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes darting from Hob to the man that just took their order, and back.

“I don’t want curly fries. I hate curly fries. We could have gone to another vendor. You didn’t have to–”

Dream cuts himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a long breath, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

Hob always did this.

It took a while for Dream to notice, how if they were together, Hob would finish a conversation for Dream. Would speed an uncomfortable situation along with an interjection or provide unnecessary context with a stranger “He’s deaf, sorry…” without consenting with Dream first.

When Dream realized Hob was doing this, he would go quiet, unsure whether or not to stop him or correct him in some way. Dream never knew exactly what to say. Did Hob think Dream was incapable of handling tricky conversations himself? Did he think Dream was a hassle?

When Dream opens his eyes Hob’s hands are out, placating, his eyes apologetic.

“Why do you do that?”

Hob blinks. “What?”

Dream’s heart rate is steadily rising, his fingers shaking slightly.

“Make my decisions for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Hob starts, his own signing gone fumbly. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yes. That’s the problem…” Dream starts, finally speaking again and letting his hands fall to his sides, his brain struggling to interpret correctly.

“What do you mean?” Hob asks.

“You don’t need to rush me out of an uncomfortable situation,” Dream starts again, his hands gesticulating uselessly. “If I’m communicating with someone whom I can’t understand, we can figure it out. They will learn. They need to learn.”

Judging by the way Hob is nervously looking around, Dream’s volume is surely rising. But he finds he doesn’t care.

“I’m not this thing you need to handle with gloves. Let me see a problem through until the end. No matter how long it takes.”

Dream is breathing heavily, he realizes, sucking in a gulp of air.

“Of course not.” Hob finally speaks, forgetting to sign. “I'm sorry.”

Hob’s eyes are welling up with tears and it somehow makes Dream more agitated, more words stumbling from his mouth without his permission.

“Then stop treating me like a burden!”

Dream turns and walks away.

It’s foolish, and childish. And as Dream stomps away, his own vision becoming blurred with tears, he knows it’s not just this moment that’s made him snap. It’s the culmination of events from the past year of being fully disabled. He hates that he can’t hear. He hates this adjustment period. He wishes he’d been born deaf so at least this hurdle, this life change wouldn’t feel so mountainous.

Dream wipes his eyes shamefully as his pace picks up to a run, pushing past people blindly. Regret screams in his bones with every step he makes, with every inch he puts between Hob and him. His chest aches with the urge to turn around and apologize, but he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t!

Dream’s shoes clumsily connect with the dirt underneath him, his face becoming hot and, as he rounds the corner of an unoccupied stall, Dream collapses to the ground and allows the tears he’d been fighting back to fall freely, a sob choking in his throat.

He grips his hair as he cries, his face stuck between his knees. The past year flashes before Dream’s eyes, all of the hardships, the doctors’ visits, the fights with Hob. He didn’t deserve Dream. All of his kindness and patience and for what? For Dream to snap on a dime and expect too much out of him all at once?

Dream groans loudly, agitated at himself for seeing the problem; him, and unsure how to change. He knows he has a right to his feelings, but communicating them was so difficult. He’s becoming impatient with himself, with his slow learning curve, with Hob’s complacency to stay in their safe little bubble and treat Dream like this breakable thing.

Dream couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but his sobs had stifled down to sniffles, and by the time he felt a hand gently land on his shoulder, Dream was doodling shapes in the dirt.

His head snaps up and finds Jessamy staring back at him, her brows creased in worry.

“Hey…” She’s bent over, her hair falling in her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dream ducks his head, shaking it, officially feeling foolish for running away. The regret he’d felt for leaving Hob starts up again and he suddenly feels so scared. At this rate, Hob would break up with him. Surely he was getting sick of Dream’s dramatics, him lashing out.

“Hob and I never fought…” Dream starts, his hands moving sluggishly. “... when I was hearing.”

Jessamy plops on the ground in front of Dream.

“It’s me,” Dream continues. “I’ve become so… sensitive, since going deaf. I feel like, sometimes, Hob treats me like a child. Like he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap. It’s so infuriating– I’m not some helpless thing that can’t figure things out!”

“No, you’re not…” Jessamy starts, reaching a hand out and giving Dream’s knee a shake.

“It is OK to feel like this. You’ve only been deaf for a year…” her brows come up encouragingly. “The transition is tough, but it will get easier, in time.”

Dream nods solemnly, tracing lines in the dirt again. Jessamy waves her hand to get his attention once more.

“And you’re not alone, you know.” She smiles gently. “You got me and Matty–” she huffs a laugh at the look Dream gives her. “... and the entire gang to support you.”

Dream knew she meant everyone at their d/Deaf meetups and offered her a small smile. She’s right, of course. Despite how withdrawn and antisocial Dream had been in the beginning, even now still creeping out of his shell, the people he’d surrounded himself with had been nothing but kind and accepting and willing to listen and connect in ways Dream hadn’t thought possible.

“Hob is still around, too,” Jessamy interrupts his thoughts, her brows lifting knowingly. “That man loves you so much; you should see the way he looks at you– it’s disgusting.”

Dream manages to crack a real, genuine smile at that, especially with the way Jessamy is fluttering her eyelashes and putting on a spot-on impression of Hob’s puppy dog eyes.

He pulls a hand through his hair and looks down again. Images of Hob’s easy smile flashing behind his eyes, his hands caressing Dream’s skin, his strong arms lifting him in a hug, his sweet lips tracing the lines of his jaw and ear, murmuring sweetness that Dream could no longer hear but feel instead. Could plainly see Hob’s devotion and affection in their everyday lives together, how he would always start the coffee in the mornings so Dream would wake up to the smell of it. How Hob would leave the hallway light on during the day so Dream would come home– late from work– and have something to see by. How he always offered to help with dinner prep, chopping veggies or stirring something, often using the excuse to crowd Dream against the counter and kiss Dream silly.

“That man would pull the moon down for you, I hope you know.”

He would, Dream realizes, swallowing thickly. And he would do the same for Hob.

Dream nods, wringing his fingers out as Jessamy continues on.

“Remember, this is a learning experience for him, too.”

Her painted nails move with perfect fluency, always slowly for Dream to understand. And as one thumb comes down from her forehead to meet the thumb on her other hand, Dream nods again, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips curl sweetly, gaze flicking sideways suddenly.

She nudges her head. “Speak of the devil…”

Dream looks too, and finds Hob approaching them.

He curses to himself, wiping his eyes with more urgency and catching the almost giggle that Jessamy makes.

“I’ll leave you two alone?”

Dream takes a steadying inhale, pushes his shoulders back, and makes a weak fist and nods it back and forth.

Jessamy stands just as Hob steps up to them, his eyes guarded yet hopeful. She makes a sign of texting before stepping around Hob with a clap to his shoulder.

Hob watches Jessamy leave before meeting Dream’s gaze again, but says nothing. His eyes never leave Dream as he crouches down and takes a seat next to him, leaning back against the wall.

Dream stares back, studying the lines of Hob’s face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which are shiny and puffy, like he’d been sobbing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, pushing a fist into his chest.

Hob sighs, his shoulders going with it. He speaks as he signs.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’re always the one apologizing for my outbursts–”

“But you were right,” Hob interjects, his eyes pleading. “Dream, can I say something?”

Dream’s heart leaps into his throat, swallowing harshly. He nods.

“You need to tell me…” Hob’s gaze shoots up to the sky, as if searching for the words for his hands to convert. “... the first time, when I do something that makes you uncomfortable. So I can remedy it immediately.”

Dream takes a deep breath as Hob continues, his hands moving slowly but surely.

“Don’t let bad things fester and build. Talk to me.” His hand comes to his mouth in a motion similar to how Dream explained on the couch months ago. “Communicate. If you don’t correct me in the moment, I’m bound to repeat it.”

He takes Dream’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over the knuckles.

“I want…” Hob awkwardly makes the simple motions with his hand still clasped with Dream’s, making him bite back a smile. “... to do this right.”

Dream takes another breath that rattles, his eyes prickling at the corners.

Hob’s eyes have gone watery, too, his smile lopsided.

“OK?”

Dream nods. “OK.”

Hob rises up on his knees just as Dream does, falling into each other. Dream squeezes his arms around Hob’s shoulders, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, letting it envelop him and calm him.

Hob’s lips brush the skin behind Dream’s ear, pressing a kiss there, before he feels them move.

I love you.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling bingo 2024 #sidenote: yes this is an american AU #because i know ASL and not BSL #yes im that simple lol #hoo! i made it!#my first fill letsagooo #this one kicked my ass sheesh #my writing

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pupsmailbox · 3 months

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ACADEMIC ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ adeline. agatha. alastair. alex. alexander. alexandria. alisa. amber. ambrose. ambrosia. amorette. andrew. annabel. annabeth. annalise. anya. arden. artemis. arthur. ash. ashford. aspen. athena. atlas. atreus. augustus. avery. beatrix. blair. blake. blythe. bram. bronwyn. caspian. charles. charlotte. christopher. circe. claude. coraline. crimson. damian. damien. damon. daphne. darcy. demeter. diana. dorian. durant. ebony. eden. edgar. eleanor. elenor. elizabeth. elvira. emberl. enid. eris. everett. fantine. felix. fern. genevieve. george. grey. griffin. haven. hazel. hecate. henry. hester. holmes. hyde. inkesse. inkette. inkie. inky. isolde. ivie. ivy. james. jane. journalle. julian. julius. juno. kane. killian. lenore. lilith. lorelei. luna. magnus. malachi. mallory. maude. meredith. naomi. narissa. nicodem. nightesse. nightwing. nimue. noire. noiresse. noirette. odessa. odette. oliver. ophelia. orion. percy. persephone. peyton. phineas. phoebe. quill. quille. quinn. raven. ravenesse. ravenette. ravenne. remus. romero. rory. rosalind. rose. rowan. rowena. rufus. salem. scriptesse. sebastian. stoker. sylvain. tanith. theo. theodore. theodosia. trista. tristan. victor. victoria. vincent. virgil. wilhelmine. willow. wynona. xanthe. zoltan.

PRONOUNS ⌇ acade/academia. amber/amber. an/antique. arch/architectself. arch/archive. art/art. art/artist. arti/article. arti/fact. artifact/artifact. baro/baroque. bea/beauty. bis/bisque. book/book. bookworm/bookworm. calligraphy/calligraphy. can/vas. candle/candle. cer/ceramic. char/charcoal. chess/chess. clas/classic. clay/clay. clock/clock. co/collect. coco/coco. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. coffee/coffee. col/color. coll/collection. collage/collage. con/cept. crea/cream. crow/crow. cur/curate. dra/drama. dust/dust. essay/essay. fea/feather. feather/feather. fig/figure. fil/film. flicker/flicker. gal/gallery. glaze/glaze. globe/globe. gold/gold. hazel/hazel. his/history. history/history. hon/honey. hue/hue. hypo/hypothesis. illus/illustrate. ink/ink. journal/journal. ki/kiln. knowledge/knowledge. le/letter. learn/learn. letter/letter. li/library. lig/ligature. lit/literature. mar/marble. mur/mural. murder/murder. muse/muse. muse/museum. night/night. no/note. novel/novel. page/page. paint/brush. paint/paint. paint/painting. paper/paper. para/dox. pen/pen. pho/photo. pi/pigment. piano/piano. poe/poet. poem/poem. por/trait. porcel/porcelain. print/print. qui/quill. quill/quill. raven/raven. rea/read. read/read. ren/renaissance. rev/revolution. scrapbook/scrapbook. script/scripts. scroll/scroll. sculp/sculptor. sculp/sculpture. sketch/sketch. speci/specimen. spine/spine. sta/stamp. stai/stain. stamp/stamp. statue/statue. story/story. stu/dy. study/studie. study/study. surreal/surrealism. tea/tea. theo/theory. theory/theory. thes/thesis. time/time. tweed/tweed. violin/violin. wheel/wheel. ⌛/⌛. ⌛︎/⌛︎. ☕/☕. ✒︎/✒︎. ✒️/✒️. 🏛️/🏛️. 🏺/🏺. 📜/📜. 🕯️/🕯️. 🖼️/🖼️.

#id pack #npt #nput #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #neopronouns #emojiself #nounself #dark academia #light academia

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stevesbestgirl · 1 year

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Dreamweaver

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore

A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)

5775 words

"Dream."

Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.

"Dream!"

He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.

"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."

"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."

"Forget your gallery, come here."

Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.

Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"

Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"

Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.

"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."

Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."

"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."

Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."

Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.

Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.

Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.

Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.

His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."

Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.

"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."

"Are you going to speak to her?"

"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."

Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"

"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."

After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.

Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.

Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.

Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.

A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.

"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.

"Approach, Y/L, L/N."

She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.

It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.

She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"

The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.

She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"

The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."

She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"

He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."

It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.

"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.

His voice remained level, "Yes."

"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.

There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.

It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.

But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.

A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-

"You should not be here."

Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."

She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?

His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.

"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."

His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.

She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.

She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.

And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.

"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.

"And why are you here again, Death?"

"To catch you in the act, obviously."

Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.

Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.

The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"

"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."

"Do you spend this long on every one?"

She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."

Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."

"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."

Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."

"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"

Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.

He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.

"Dream, what did you do?"

Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."

Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"

"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."

There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"

Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."

Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.

"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"

"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."

Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"

"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."

"Of course, brother."

That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.

"Approach, Y/N."

She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.

A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.

"Dream King."

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."

Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."

"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."

She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.

Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."

She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."

She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.

Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"

She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."

"I apologize."

Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"

He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"

Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.

She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.

Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"

Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."

His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"

She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"Simply an observation."

"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"

"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.

"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.

There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."

She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."

His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.

"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."

She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."

His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."

She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"

"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."

"Your sister?"

"Death."

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.

"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"

"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."

"Dreams affect human development?"

That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"

"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.

"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."

The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."

"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."

"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."

"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"

"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."

She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.

"Are you alright?"

"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.

"No."

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.

After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."

Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"

Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."

And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.

As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.

"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.

Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."

The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.

"Unless-"

"Unless." Dream was unamused.

"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."

If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.

"You believe such foolishness, sister?"

"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"

"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"

"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."

"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.

"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."

"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."

Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."

"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.

"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."

Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."

"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.

"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.

All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.

The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.

The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.

There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.

She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.

But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.

Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.

"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.

"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.

She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."

"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.

Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."

She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.

"I'm sure you have questions."

She nodded, "A couple, yes."

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"

Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.

She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."

That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."

She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"

He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."

"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"

He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."

The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.

Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"

Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."

Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.

"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.

"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.

She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"

She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."

"You are quite skilled."

He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"

She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."

She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.

She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.

So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."

A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."

Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."

He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.

She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dreamweaver #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #one shot

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cingulata · 3 months

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I didn't want to let Pride month go by without an update to my fic, so here's chapter 3! Featuring some Zoot backstory. And breaking into the Mallory Gallery... again.

This chapter's song:

youtube

If you've been following along and enjoying the fic, comments are super helpful so that I know people are out there reading!

#chapter 4 will not take as long i swear #i'm already like 2/3rds done with it #also today's the 43rd anniversary of great muppet caper so this is fitting #muppets #the muppets #the electric mayhem #muppets mayhem #zoot muppet #lips muppet #otp: private jam session #lips x zoot #zoot x lips #polymayhem #my fics

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zinjanthropusboisei · 1 year

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There's a textile art exhibit in the little gallery space in my building and I adore this one

(What We Leave Behind, by Mallory Zondag)

#art #textile art #fiber art #environmental art #anthropocene

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gingerbeardmansim · 4 months

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My new Save has a lot of new Sims! Say hello to Dominique Mallory, otherwise known as Dom. With it being summer, and his father being his only parent and working all the time, Dom has a lot of free time.

(this lot was created by Gallery ID - down-in-simsland)

#GBMSSims #show us your sims #ts4 #DomMallory

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thestalwartheart · 1 year

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assessment

M finds out how things went at the National Gallery. Written from Dench!M's POV. Mostly gen (i.e. only 00Q if you squint.)

[Read on AO3]

Olivia Mansfield had very little patience for the archaic masculinity that pervaded the halls of MI6.

It had plagued her entire career. The old boy’s club of department heads, the three-hour government-expensed lunches, the sexist jokes, the things they said about her and her work...all of it was utter tosh. She’d learned very early on never to give it any fuel.

However, there was one sideshow she did very much enjoy watching: the men of British intelligence sizing each other up.

She could have written a word-for-word transcript of Bond’s first meeting with Mallory hours before it happened. Bond never had been any good with bureaucrats. He was even worse with bureaucrats who used to be agents or soldiers. It hardly took a psychologist to puzzle that out: he saw their move to a desk job as a betrayal, a switching of loyalties. Bond was a man who always had far more respect for the dead than the living, after all.

He’d proved her right with Mallory. She liked being right.

But she also liked watching the unpredictable, which is why she regretted that she couldn’t be a fly on the wall for Bond’s introduction to his new Quartermaster. There was simply too much to do, too many pieces to put in play before Mallory forced her out of the job in the most insulting way possible.

Thank goodness, then, that 007 never missed a chance for theatrics.

The clock in her makeshift office read two pm when the glass doors opened, shaking as Bond stormed back into her office, looking as if he was about to rain down fire on the whole building.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

She put down her pen. “Met our new Quartermaster, have you?”

“He’s not a Quartermaster. He’s a boy playing at being one. And he’s full of sheer bloody hubris.”

“Good. God knows our enemies have got enough of it.”

M reached into her drawer for two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. She poured them both a generous measure, then sat back and watched as Bond refused to take a single mouthful.

“You want to talk about hubris, 007? You saw the state of the department before he arrived. Packed with engineers and designers who couldn’t see past their own egos. The new Quartermaster is cleverer than the lot of them. He’ll make mistakes—the young and arrogant usually do—but do you know why I hired him?”

“Nepotism?” Bond’s lip curled with a sardonic smile. “I never was able to find out your children’s names.”

M ignored that.

“I hired him because we’re outgunned. We’re decades behind our enemies when it comes to cyberterrorism. I want us out in front.”

“Then why not have him lead a team of specialists? Why make him Q?”

M suppressed a smile, then spared a petty thought for Mallory. For all Bond had performed miserably in his tests, he was, at least, still asking the right questions. That talent was rare, even among the fittest, healthiest, and psychologically well-adjusted agents.

“Shoring up our systems isn’t his only goal.” She took a long sip of her drink. “He knows as well as us that no Double-0 has ever retired. His priority is to see that most of you do.”

“By—what,” Bond scoffed. “Using technology for the job?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’s more of an idiot than I gave him credit for.”

“Is he?” She nodded at the black case in his lap. “What do you think of the gun?”

Bond looked down. He seemed to be thinking something over, and no matter how much he wanted to remain furious, she could tell he was, if nothing else, pleased with the weaponry. While he stared at it, he seemed to develop a satisfied, cheeky air about him.

She even thought he looked a bit younger than he did a few hours ago.

That was an interesting thought.

His eyes caught hers again. With something close to a smile on his face, he replied, “Well, it’s no exploding pen.”

“It’ll do, then.”

Bond huffed. He picked up his drink and downed half of it in one mouthful. All the while, his eyes surveyed both M and the sprawling underground offices behind her.

“It’ll do, Ma’am.”

The new Quartermaster’s assessment was a different story.

He came to her office about an unrelated matter regarding their network and firewalls. It was late. She ought to have put him off until morning, but she loathed going home these days. Apparently, so did Q. Yet, where she felt drained and stretched thin, he seemed to thrive in the lateness of the hour. He reminded her of a university student, a very posh one who had little interest in the sorts of time-wasting things most people got up to at university.

She signed off on his demands. About a hundred people had already given their approval, including Tanner, and for an uncomfortable moment, she felt like the Queen: getting on in years and tolerated mainly for the rubber stamp in her hand.

“How did the drop go with 007?” she asked as she considered another drink.

Q straightened up. An impish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just fine, Ma’am. I think we’ll get along swimmingly.”

“Good. Because believe it or not, he’s our best agent.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Q replied, not unkindly.

All week, people had been talking her ear off about Bond. About how he was finished, how he’d die an inglorious death in the field—again, finally—and the agency would be well-shot of him. It was all rubbish, of course, as much now as it ever was. She’d always thought if she was the only one shouldering a favourable opinion of the man, so be it. They’d see who won out in the end.

Under the horrid fluorescent lights of her office, she realised she was no longer the only one with belief in 007.

I’m no traditionalist, Ma’am, she remembered Q telling her once. He’d been showing her his designs for a new line of personalised pistols. But sometimes it’s best to keep things simple. There are few things more satisfying than a well-made weapon.

Q had a particular look about him now that hinted at a hundred other thoughts on Bond. Whatever they were, she was sure she didn’t want to know.

She’d lived enough life to guess.

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond #comments reblogs kudos etc very much appreciated!#long post

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theharrowing · 1 year

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headcanon - What would the ideal vacation look like with each member? 🌸 Feeling inspired by your spring break theme ☺️

hello, my darling Mallory! 🌷

i love that we are continuing on with a theme! i am definitely taking some of my observations from soop and bon voyage, but i will admit that i have not seen every season of things, and people change over time anyway, so it's all fun and games. and i am adding a reader character to the mix, for fun. and yes, i know i already mentioned joon and museums, but...come on, we all follow his instagram lmao.

an ideal vacation for the members:

Namjoon - a trip with Namjoon is a series of one-way tickets, with a stack of brochures that he has picked up along the way for various trails, monuments, galleries, and museums. you have to pack for every kind of weather, wearing only the most comfortable shoes, because the two of you will be on your feet a lot, more likely to sleep in hostels than hotels. Namjoon is adorably frantic, going from one place to the next while sprinting through topics of conversation, and you keep always make sure he never loses anything important along the way (like his passport!!!) Namjoon talks to every little creature along the way, and you smile to yourself as he sends yet another cat photo to his hyung with the message, "Look! It's you! 😻" and at the end of your long treks through nature and along marble and cement floors, you get dressed up for whatever gastropub and wine bar he finds to end the night in.

Seokjin - this man is finding a hotel central to the nearest theme park, and he is also checking to see what is in theaters. sure, you could watch a movie back home, but you could also watch it anywhere, and anyway, Seokjin is excited to see what kinds of snacks the theater might have. he looks up the finest of dining, and the most interesting food carts, making friends with every manager or chef he can manage to talk to. in the evening, Seokjin is eager to return to the hotel and relax, giving you exactly fifteen minutes of peace before his laptop gaming session turns into incoherent shouting.

Yoongi - Yoongi is a wildcard, because you are never sure if he is going to want to get up early to explore nature with his camera before the morning fog has fully settled, or sleep in until almost noon and find somewhere quaint to have breakfast or lunch. you can always expect a history and architecture lesson, however, and you always come prepared to stand and sit around a lot while Yoongi talks to locals and looks things up, snapping photos and getting lost in his thoughts. he will make reservations to fancy restaurants, stop at dinky holes-in-the-wall, and if a game lines up for a sport he enjoys, the two of you will have the best seats. sometimes you will hotel hop to see different parts of an area, and other times, you will rent a camper van and hit the road for long stretches before settling somewhere in the middle of seemingly nowhere. there are always quiet moments, but they are never dull.

Hoseok - in the first few days of the trip, you always sleep later than Hoseok to give him time to do his hair and choose from one of the many, many outfits that he brought with him; he takes time getting ready, and he is not ashamed. once you finally do head out, he likes to sightsee close to the hotel, tasting local food and taking in scenery. he might want to go to a museum or on a hike, but he is the most interested in walking through the streets and people-watching while finding somewhere to grab a cup of coffee and sit outside before finally going to the high-end shopping centers. Hoseok is just as active at night, finding a concert to attend or somewhere to dance. as the trip wears on and he becomes worn out, hotel robes, room service, and cuddling up with you becomes his favorite things.

Jimin - you absolutely never know what to expect from Jimin, which is what makes traveling with him so exciting. although he is happy to try local food, nothing brightens his day more than finding Korean spots, and he will probably return there a few times during your stay, ordering different things each time. Jimin will do sightseeing, go to museums, and attend events, but he does not stay in one place for too long, always taking you by the hand and dragging you off to your next destination. pack several swimsuits when going on vacation with Jimin, and several outfits for various kinds of nightlife scenes.

Taehyung - luxury, luxury, luxury. Taehyung likes the penthouse suites, the jazz clubs, renting out that hideously expensive golfing room in Vegas. he also likes to jump into the ocean wearing the clothing he intended on wearing all day, caring very little about the chaos in the moment, just for the sake of being impulsive. you truly never know where Taehyung is going to drag you off to, but you always pack way more clothing than you would ordinarily need, and expect several very lavish shopping sprees. everyone you meet gravitates to Taehyung and becomes his friend, and he winds up getting you into clubs and events that have very short guest lists.

Jungkook - although Jungkook has many interests, he is the type to follow your lead. whatever you want to do see, wherever you want to go, Jungkook is making reservations and looking up logistics to make it happen. he is very eager to get your insights and learn from the locals, and will suggest plenty of sightseeing and restaurants, but only once he is a little more familiar with his surroundings and has an idea of what the area has to offer. he is not a pushover, though; if he finds an event he wants to go to, he will speak his mind, and if there is something he's not into, he will let you know. but he is definitely along for the ride, for the most part, excited to see where you will lead him.

find more headcanons in my master list!

#bts headcanons #bts imagines #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #spring break ficstravaganza 🌞

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mxharleyhua · 5 months

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who? @owenryder what? painting where? lake mallory when? earth week

Harley was doing a lot for earth day; litter pickup, 5K, biking, and picnics. But something he hadn't done yet was dedicate some time to doing art. Often, he worked in the dead of night when most of the town was sleeping. He loved painting at that time, but it meant he usually just worked in his apartment. So he packed up his portable easel, a couple of his smaller and cheaper canvases, and some of his painting supplies and headed to Lake Mallory. As he approached the open area near the water, he realized he wasn't the only one with that idea. He wasn't surprised to realize the other painter was Ryder. As he approached his friend, he pointed to the lack of cochlear implant on his ear to tell Ryder that he couldn't hear anything. Harley always wore them at work, both at the gallery and at the studio, so Ryder hadn't interacted with him being completely Deaf much. "Do you mind if I join you?" He asked, already putting his stuff down so that he could dig out the case with his CIs in them. After attaching them and turning them on, he turned his attention back to his friend. "I'll be able to hear you now."

#(ryder.)#(earth week.)

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anneapocalypse · 2 years

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I love my emotionally repressed pirate not-gf.

#mallory hawke #isabela #hawke #isabela x female hawke #femslash february #dragon age 2 #world state: rogues gallery #the best part about this is that mal and aveline are rivals lmao they do NOT get along

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heartlandians · 1 year

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Season 17 Spoilers Masterlist (episode by episode)

October 15, 2023 Pre-production started April 18 - May 5, 2023 Shot between May 8, 2023 - August 23, 2023 / May 8, 2023 - August 29, 2023 (delayed 4 days by the wildfires) Season 17 premieres October 1, 2023

OBVIOUSLY THERE ARE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT, SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! I will update this post with all the new info we get.

In Season 17, Amy (Amber Marshall) and the rest of the Heartland family know better than most that while dreams can sometimes come true, more often life takes us in unexpected directions. The new season is all about embracing the unexpected. It’s about new experiences and taking the path less traveled. In Season 17 the Bartlett-Fleming family will find themselves excited for the future and ready to embrace new adventures, challenges, and relationships. But no matter how much things may change, Amy, Lou (Michelle Morgan), Jack (Shaun Johnston), and Tim (Chris Potter) will continue to fight for what they believe in while staying rooted in the land that has been in the Bartlett-Fleming family for generations.

PROMO SHOTS | CHARACTER BIOS | SEASON 17 TAG | EPISODE GUIDE | TRAILER

(under construction as in “I accidentally deleted everything... and we’ll see if I can get it all back”)

17x01 - The Path Less Traveled

Amy is surprised when a very pregnant Mallory shows up at the ranch with a wild horse. Jack and Tim face new competition, and Lou grapples with a familiar opponent in her campaign to be re-elected.

Written by: Mark Haroun Directed by: Dean Bennett Filmed between: May 8 - June 1, 2023 (Block 1) [May 8 - May 26, 2023] Aired: October 1, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x01 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x02 - Taking the Reins

Amy and Jack retrain Edwin’s horse for carriage racing, bringing Amy and Edwin closer. Logan takes his first client horse. Election night arrives for Lou, just as the family faces a difficult loss.

Written by: Ken Craw Directed by: Ken Filewych Filmed between: May 8 - June 1, 2023 (Block 1) [May 8 - May 26, 2023] Aired: October 8, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x02 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x03 - The Heart Wants

Amy helps Caleb with his son’s pony. Lou and Jessica start a new venture, while Katie tries a risky new hobby. Logan takes a big step in his relationship with Miley, but then disaster strikes.

Written by: Caitlin D. Fryers Directed by: Chris Potter Filmed between: June 2 - June 21, 2023 (Block 2) [May 29 - June 15, 2023] Aired: October 15, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x03 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x04 - A Piece Apart

Amy must deal with Lyndy’s sudden fear of horses. Logan blames himself for Miley’s accident. Tim enlists the family to make Shane’s return to Heartland perfect, while Katie struggles with a friendship.

Written by: Alexandra Clarke Directed by: Chris Potter Filmed between: June 2 - June 21, 2023 (Block 2) [May 29 - June 15, 2023] Aired: October 22, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x04 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x05 - How to Say Goodbye

Amy and Jack train Blue for a competition. Lisa deals with a difficult loss. Lou lets Jessica down in their partnership for the gallery. Katie secretly buys a used dirt bike.

Written by: Heather Conkie Directed by: Michelle Morgan Filmed between: June 22 - July 19, 2023 (Block 3) [June 16 - July 13, 2023] // Hiatus: June 30 - July 9, 2023 Aired: October 29, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x05 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x06 - Heat of the Moment

At the competition, Amy has a run in with an old friend that leads to heartache. Jack and Lisa prove they can be adventurous. Katie stands up for herself when Ellie and Brandon push her too far.

Written by: Ken Craw Directed by: Michelle Morgan Filmed between: June 22 - July 19, 2023 (Block 3) [June 16 - July 13, 2023] // Hiatus: June 30 - July 9, 2023 Aired: November 5, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x06 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x07 - Unknown Caller

Lou’s forced to face the reason for her insomnia. Amy works with a new client who has a surprising connection to Katie. Jack wins over a prickly dude ranch guest.

Written by: Caitlin D. Fryers Directed by: Kristin Lehman Filmed between: July 20 - August 8, 2023 (Block 4) [July 14 - August 2, 2023] Aired: November 12, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x07 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x08 - Harmony

Amy helps a vaulting team ahead of a big competition. Caleb struggles with a tough decision about Carson. Logan realizes where his future lies. Lou and Jessica face a stressful gallery opening.

Written by: Mark Haroun and Adam Hussein Directed by: Kristin Lehman Filmed between: July 20 - August 8, 2023 (Block 4) [July 14 - August 2, 2023] Aired: November 19, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x08 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x09 - Fear is a Liar

Amy and Nathan retrain his horse. Tim navigates new family dynamics when Miranda shows up early to help with Shane and Chloe’s wedding. Jessica has to heal a rift with Jack.

Written by: Ken Craw Directed by: Madison Thomas Filmed between: August 9 - August 29, 2023 (Block 5) [August 3 - August 23, 2023] Aired: November 26, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x09 tag | Screencaps

* * * *

17x10 - Just the Beginning

Written by: Mark Haroun Directed by: Dean Bennett Filmed between: August 9 - August 29, 2023 (Block 5) [August 3 - August 23, 2023] Aired: December 3, 2023

Music:

Extras:

Preview | First minutes | 17x10 tag | Screencaps

#heartland #season 17 #masterlist

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jessjad · 7 months

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Unexpected

Chapter 5

Summary: After a Halloweenparty Y/N actually didn't want to got to, her life seems to be turned around. The reason is a very stubborn Supe that seems to have her in his visier. Is it just a coincidance or more?

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 3188

Warnings: 18+ only!!! Smut, some language, more new and overwhelming situations

Song Inspo: (Yup ^^) "Locked out of Heaven" ~ Bruno Mars. It's a first for me too, but I heard it again after a looong time and the song just took me there.

A/N: So... the small flu turned into a big flu. It struck me down more than I'd hoped for. And my periode decided to visit me too. Yay, fun times! But now we're finally here. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

"This is not how this is going to be."

"You don't have to decide that, motherfucker!"

"You wanna fucking test me? Again?" Ben challenged M.M. with little to no effort of really meaning it, knowing fully well that he was stronger anyway.

And while he took a hit of his joint, Y/N stood in her living room behind the couch and observed the new situation she found herself in. Mallory had sent some people over to help keep everything in check and to not put her in dangerous situations or to help her out of it if needed. Just like it happened half an hour ago at her work place. It had gotten really scary there for a moment and when she heard the gunshots she had thought it was over.

But then there was Starlight and Y/N knew that she shared the same attitude towards Vought and the supes. So she did not hesitate to follow her out of the store and into the car they came with. M.M. had shot the gun and Hughie, Starlights boyfriend she recognized from TV, had drove the car.

"You had let her go out!" M.M. took a step forward and raised his finger to point at Ben.

"She's her own person." Ben looked over to her for a second, before he kept talking. "And she's the last person to fucking do what I say anyway. That's for sure."

"Guys... can we not..." Hughie tried to intervene, but Ben stopped him.

"Shut up, Rantallion."

"I... that's..."

They escaped the place as fast as they could and took some extra turnes on the road until they arrived at her apartment. On the way there Annie filled her in and told her all about Mallorys plan to have her on watch. That sounded not so bad after all, but now everyone was gathered in her small apartment and it felt incredibly crowded. Annie came around the couch to Y/N and touched her careful on the arm to get her attention.

"You okay?"

To answer that question she had to think about it for a second. "Yeah... in a way. But this..." Now she raised her voice a little more. "This is not going to work out. My apartment is not big enough for you all."

"But we're supposed to look after you. To keep you safe." said M.M..

"I'll keep her safe." Now Ben stepped forward. "You don't need to worry about that."

"As we saw."

"Hey!" Ben pointed at Hughie who was actually just talking to himself, but that didn't seem to work with the supe. "If you don't wanna lick my balls, the peanut gallery shut's the fuck up!"

"WOULDN'T IT BE BETTER..." Y/N tried loudly to bring the attention back to the actual point. With success. "If you watched me... from outside? Keep the streets in check? The surroundings? If you're all in here, that wouldn't be very strategic, would it?"

"That's not the plan anyway. But one of us has to stay in here. Just in case. And it's probably best when we... take turns." Annie looked at the others.

After a moment of silence everyone seemed to agree. They could not all stay in the apartment together and it would also not be good to make the same person come here every day and stay. Not with Soldier Boy already fuming about him being questioned in keeping Y/N safe. So Annie decided to stay the rest of the day. M.M. and Hughie would observe the street infront of the house.

"Where's Butcher? Still after Homelander?" Ben went into the kitchen to get himself a beer.

"No. He's... on a different mission." Hughie answered vaguely but Y/N could see in Ben's face that he tuned into the thoughts of the young man. "Okay! We should go."

And shortly after that, the apartment felt silent again.

Five days. It's now been five days with Ben and the others in Y/N's life. And it was no fun. Ben had been more grumpy than he already was and when he was not sitting in the living room watching TV and trying to catch up on everything that he missed, he disappeared in her bedroom. The only room Y/N thought she had to herself. And at night, with just her and the fake boyfriend, it felt fine. Almost content even. He never tried to come on to her, eventhough she almost expected something like that to happen. Surprisingly, he never initiated a move. But he didn't talk to her either.

Sometimes she asked him a question. One that sounded easy to answer but surely could've lead into a longer conversation. However, Ben just gifted her with short, confused and annoyed gazes before he gave her a even shorter answer. And he never asked Y/N a question in return. At first she told herself that she just tried to dive more into the whole fake dating thing they were supposed to play out. It would be beneficial if they knew more about each other. If they would get to know each other better. But Ben didn't seem to be interessted in that. Still, Y/N kept trying.

After a few days she realized that it was not entirely because of the fake dating story. Slowly but surely, the man she shared her bed with, started to interest her. Of course she had read and heard storys about him, but once you realize how much Vought lies about their heros, Y/N began to question everything. Maybe that could've protected Jenny... Him on the other hand didn't seem to have any interest in getting to know her. Not that it was important to her. Not at all. But it made her still wonder why he picked her for all of this.

Having Annie all day in her house was comfortable. The women talked quite a bit, while she stayed alert to some degree. Not like Ben, the blonde woman listened and shared her story willingly. They talked about family and how Vought and the supes had changed their lives. But when Annie asked how Y/N found out that the supes were merely real heros, she didn't tell her about Jenny. What had happened to her sister was still so painful and horrific and she was not ready to tell it to anyone. So she just told her, that her wake up call had not been really pleasant, but it most definitley had opened her eyes. Annie seemed to understand and did not ask any further questions. They changed the subject and kept talking about other things. It was really fun.

With Hughie in her apartment it was different. He was around her age, maybe a little younger and still they didn't seem to find something they could talk about. He was not as open as Annie was, stayed mostly near a window and tried to keep one eye on Ben. She could see how nervous the supe made him. Y/N knew that they had worked together beforehand, but during the battle in the Vought Tower the tables were turned and so nothing was sure anymore. That's when Y/N started to cook again, just to stay busy. Ben occupied the TV most of the time and rather than watching one thing at a time he changed channels what felt like evey five seconds. But when the supe smelled that she was cocking in the kitchen, a smile spread over his face.

"Finally you do what every woman should do." he told her. "When are we gonna eat?"

"Who said I would cook for you, too?" she replied after a stern look up to him.

This respones wiped the smile from his face and the dialogue that followed after was one Y/N did not want to think about again. His very old views on women were truly hair-raising and she could not wrap her head around how a man as attractive as him still had those visions. But maybe that was a good thing in the end, because she could never be together with a man like that. Not that she wanted to be together with Ben anyway.

That's why it was good that Ben left the apartment sometimes. Not like Y/N, he didn't need to stay inside. So, Mallory left him Paul and the car to get his weed and whatever else. Sometimes she saw that he used something harder than his joints. But she didn't care, as long as he didn't bring them into her apartment. And so it was nice that he was gone for some time of the day. Especially when M.M. started to stay over for the day.

But the tension in the room, when both men were there, was so strong that it made her really uncomfortable. Y/N had heard from Annie what the business between them was and she could not imagine how Marvin must've felt everytime he saw the man who killed his family. The urge for revenge must've been so strong, that his OCD even took over in her apartment. When he realized that Y/N was watching him quietly, he tried to stop and apologized, but she didn't mind. In a way she understood it and it made her feel connected to him. Every supe-survivor had a package to bare.

This day though was different. As soon as Y/N woke up, she could feel that something was off. Ben was already up and she could hear voices talking with eachother. She got out of the bed and just hoped that it was not Marvin in her living room, but luck was not on her side today. And out of an unknown reason Ben decided that today was the day to talk. With every hour that passed it became more unbearable. At some point Y/N asked him if he didn't want to leave today and Ben just said no and started talking to Marvin again. His responses were short but his anger was evidently shown on his face and his leg was bouncing rentlessly up and down.

Y/N's breaking point came in the evening. The talk between the men became more and more heated and whatever she tried to break it up, it didn't work. Ben had to pick at M.M.'s wounds and the black man fired back, obviously not caring who he was talking to. Y/N had no idea what was happening and why they were behaving like this, but she couldn't take it anymore. From both men unknown she disappeared into her bedroom, changed her clothes and escaped down the fire escape by her bedroom window. It didn't take long to find Paul and the car and so she opened the door and jumped on the backseat. With surprise vivid on his face he turned around.

"Please take me somewhere else!"

"Miss Y/L/N..."

"They're bashing their heads in and it's been almost a week since I saw or heard someone else. I know I should not be out here and it's dangerous if anyone sees and recognizes me, but I can't take it anymore. So, please... help me." she looked at him with pleading eyes.

Paul sighed. "Where do you want to go?"

She leaned back into the seat with relieve. "I don't know. Is there not a club with private lounges or rooms or something? Something where I'm out of danger and still can... forget all of this."

Paul nodded his head quickly and started to drive. The further away he took her, the more freely she felt she could breathe. And that's when she realized how heavy all of this was sitting on her shoulders. One stupid decision could turn your life around and make it better or worse. She should've just stayed at home on halloween. The car suddenly came to a stop and she looked out of the window. They were at the backentrance of a nightclub, where two security guards were standing.

Paul got out and Y/N folllowed him. The three men shared a knowing look and one of the strangers opened the door to let them in. Paul walked her up to a door, opened it and revealed a privat room behind it. A large window allowed a view down into the club and she could hear the loud music blasting over speakers in the room. On the left was a minibar and on the right was a small sofa with a table. She really didn't wanted to know why he knew that a place like this existed.

"You have the room to yourself. Noone will come in here. The window is a one way mirror, so nobody can see you. And I will wait outside to bring you back home."

Y/N showed him a genuine smile. "Thank you!"

Paul nodded again and left her alone in the room. As soon as the door closed, the music got louder and she walked over to the minibar. This was exactly what she needed right now.

"Oh Aaashleeeey!"

The redhaired woman jumped at hearing her name said in a singsong voice by Homelander. She closed her eyes for a second and then plastered a smile on her face. He was expecting some news about Soldier Boy. To bad for her, she had not really anything to say. The old hero was nowhere to find, his girlfirend also did not show and that was not good. Ashley was supposed to bring answers.

"So!" Homelander came around to stand infront of Ashley, crossed his arms behind his back and looked down to the woman infront of him with raised eyebrows. "Any news?"

"N...no... not really. But we're looking into every little hint we get. We tried to follow the car in which they disappeared after the incident in the shop, but... we lost track of it."

This was not what he wanted to hear. He had hoped that there was already more to tell, maybe even a location or at least the neighborhood in which they were hiding. Homelander needed to find Soldier Boy and end him as fast as he could. Or else his dad would end him and if anyone could do that, it was him.

"That is really disappointing, Ashley. You had over a week to get me results."

"I know! I know, but... there is something I can tell you." she stood up and hold up one hand as if she tried to calm the supe infront her down.

"And that would be?" he asked expectantly.

"We're not the only ones who are looking for them." To that Homelander raised an eyebrow again. "Victoria Newman is also looking for him. She's hiding her searchteam in an abandoned building just outside New York."

Now that were really some news. Slowly Homelander turned around to look outside the window again.

"Well.... maybe it's time that I pay our vice-chancellor candidate a visit."

Several hours later, Y/N had no idea how long she'd been here, she felt good, really good. The music was the right mix to let loose and she felt a little tipsy from the alcohol. It was freeing and she really wanted this to last as long as possible. She danced her heart out with the people down on the dancefloor who had no idea that she was partying with them.

But when Bruno Mars started to sing that sex felt like heaven, two strong hands appeared on her hips and a warm, strong body pressed against her back. It startled her for a second, but it didn't take long for her to realize that it was Ben. His scent infiltrated her nose and she closed her eyes with enjoyment for a moment, while his body started to sway with her's. She had not heard him come into the room and it got her wondering how he was able to sneak up to her. Maybe after the last time she returned from the toilette?

"How did you find me?" she just had to ask.

"Paul called me." his deep voice answered. "Just to be sure."

Y/N could feel the bulge in her back starting to grow and a small moan left her lips. Damn, why was this always happening when she had some alcohol in her system? It's like he could sense his oppurtunity and had no problem to take it. But she felt so good right now, that she actually did not care. Y/N brought her arms back to lay them around his neck and pressed herself a little more into him.

That movement gave Ben the freedom to let his hands wander to the front of her jeans and started to open it. Y/N had to chuckle. He really didn't waste any time. Her hands ran through his hair and she laid her head back on his shoulder. Ben placed open mouthed kisses on her neck while his hand disappeared into her pants and his fingers brushed through her already wet folds. She opend her legs a little more and turned her face to him, before she moaned again. But Ben swallowed her moan with a kiss.

While he worked Y/N up with his one hand, the other arm pressed her more into him, so that she could not escape his magical fingers. And even if she could, she was already far to gone in her passion to really leave. The pressure was getting stronger and stronger and with a couple more precise pumps of his fingers inside her she came hard and screamed her climax out. It felt so incredibly good and her legs shaked so much she wasn't sure she could stand.

"Oh god..." was all she could say.

And while she tried to stabilize herself, Ben already opened his own pants to free his aching cock. Y/N turned around to him and when she saw his fully erect dick, she hurried out of her pants and shoes. The damage was already done anyway.

"That's nice, but just call me Ben." the supe said with a cocky smile.

"Just... shut up." she answered, layed her arms back around his neck and started to kiss him again.

The kiss got more and more heated and Ben reached down with his hands to grab the back of her thighs. He picked her up and a moment later she was pressed against the wall. Her legs rested over his waist and with one strong push Ben buried his lenght balls deep inside her. Both instantly moand loud and Ben moved his hips right away in a rough and fast pace. Y/N had to grip his shoulders hard and couldn't contain her screams and moans. It just felt so good.

He worked her up to a second orgams and just befoe she fell over the cliff, Ben himself growled and bit into her shoulder. With a last deep and strong push he buried his cock to the hilt inside her, painted her inner walls white and took Y/N with him over the edge.

It felt like he reached places she herself did not know existed inside her and while she tried to calm her breath she still saw stars dancing around the room.

A/N: Ah, well. 😏 We knew they couldn't keep their hands to themselfs for long, right? 🤭 What do you think? Should we start to inculde Ben's thoughts now? 🤔 Yeah, I think we should.

@lyarr24 @leigh70 @k-slla @deadlydivergentgirl @deans-spinster-witch

#unexpected #soldier boy #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #fanfiction

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