Hi friends! Sorry to interrupt your scrolling! I've decided to take up fanfic writing again. Here's my list of characters I'll happily write for (if you have something in mind that's not on the list, feel free to ask). i just finished Sunrise on the Reaping so i am especially keen for Haymitch requests :)
Please see rules at the end!
---
The Hunger Games
Haymitch Abernathy
Peeta Mellark
Star Wars
Kylo Ren/Ben Solo
Anakin Skywalker
Obi-Wan Kenobi
The X-Files
Fox Mulder
Lost
Benjamin Linus
Sayid Jarrah
Rules of Requesting
No smut
No physical violence from the requested character (other side characters is okay)
Any characters under 18 will be aged up, and this will be made clear in the fic
can someone help me find a mando x reader oneshot from years ago that was about the reader needing cpr from drowning and mando having to take off his helmet to give it to her? i believe it was an anon request
I am SO tired of only seeing age gap fanfic for Haymitch so maybe I will just revive this long dead blog and fricking write some non age gap related fanfic myself. anyway. send requests.
Warnings: lil spicy, but not rlly. Fluff, lil ansgt if u squint. thots
Summary: Obi-Wan begins to think about you differently, good thing you have the simplest distraction to keep him from those thoughts.
A/n: is it getting hot in here? yeah it's definitely getting hot in here ima crank the ac
Words: 1.4k
The man you had come to Scarif to find, and capture had been put in restraints and locked in a small holding cell on the ship, and though you were all ready to leave this planet, Obi-Wan had suggested to lay over for the night, to take a rest and to regroup before the morning.
You were perfectly fine with his decision, racing him back to the room you had been given, and not waiting a second after the door was opened before jumping onto the bed, face first. If the council saw you doing this, they would be very grumpy, but they weren't here. Just Obi-Wan, and even though he normally wasn't as tolerant of stupidity, he held back a chuckle at your antics, shaking his head.
"And here I thought you'd been tired," he shrugged off his robe and hung it by the door, catching yours after you threw it to him and did the same.
"I am tired."
Your giggling fit of exhaustion should have proven that. You remember a time when Anakin came home late like this, laughing his head off and waking you up. You now understood the struggle of fighting against the drunkenness of being so tired.
"Go get ready for bed, and please do try to be quiet. I don't want to deal with complaints in the morning," he ushered you into the 'fresher with your change of clothes, rolling his eyes as you seemed to be stuttering your steps.
Once the door was shut, he quickly changed himself, heaving a breath and letting it out.
He was having a hard time with you, or specifically being around you since the scene in the nightclub. The way you handled yourself was remarkable, truly he was proud of you, he was. But when that Twi'lek girl was talking to you, he realized how truly innocent you were.
She is a pure jedi, never to be had before in her life.
He taught you well, letting you know of the ways of the worlds, but even though you knew of these things, you'd never done them. You'd never been touched, barely been kissed, and only because it was, he who was foolish enough to let his emotions for you overcome him. He couldn't help it, he loved you. Loving you had been a very innocent thing until tonight. Until tonight he was content to share the forehead kisses, hold you close to him after a nightmare, or when you felt scared, or even just when you were lonely and missing Anakin.
It was all different, now. He knew however little experience he had; it he still knew what it was like. To feel someone that close to you, so intimately. He was sure at one point in his life he was in love, but oh how he was wrong. He grew out of it but remembered the only thing clouding his mind was lust. The need to be felt by another human being, to be tangled with them and to give and receive pleasure.
You were unknowledgeable about such things and could not possibly crave it. He was being foolish to think about it, now... but what if you ever asked him? You'd been plenty comfortable to ask him private things before, and he was always comfortable to answer you. If you came to him for answers after tonight, he wasn't so sure it would be just another conversation. Would he tell you it is an activity meant for those who are in love? For those who desire a casual partner? He didn't want to tell you that, not ever. He didn't want to risk you taking it to heart and finding someone who didn't care about you. Not like he cared about you.
He wanted to tell you it was an act of love so deep, that only those who are connected mind and soul would be able to achieve its truest benefits. Perhaps he would, and perhaps you would understand, that no one else was good enough for you. You would know that they could never come close because you were not connected so beautifully.
It pained him to think about this, because he should absolutely not be having a thought like this. He could be expelled from the Jedi order if the council even caught whiff of his thoughts right now.
He couldn't help it, though. The image of you wrapped around him, emitting the sweetest noises while he made the softest, most gentle love to you that anyone had ever before. He couldn't shake it, that perhaps you might one day trust him enough to love you like that, so deeply, and with a purity that was only found in stories.
He was brought out of his thoughts when you stumbled out of the fresher, still laughing, but trying to stop, and huffing silent giggles under your breath. You collapsed on the bed, and he figured that yes, sleep is exactly what he needed to clear his mind. Sleep always refreshed him, and gave him better focus, but it also helped to wipe away bad or unwanted thoughts from the day before.
"Do you need help to calm down?" he sat on the edge of the bed, awaiting an answer, but the most you could do without chuckling was nod very quickly.
He pressed his hand to your head, trying to ease your signature's hyperactivity with the calmness of his own. It took a few seconds for your head to wrap around the serenity you felt, but soon after he was done, you felt yourself be at ease. You were taking deep and steady breaths now.
Obi-Wan tucked the sheets around you before walking around to the other side and slipping in beside you, adjusting his position until he was comfortable with his back facing you. Normally he wouldn't mind being turned around, gazing at your features or playing with your hair until he dozed off, but tonight he only wanted to try and rid himself of the very inappropriate thoughts he was having a small bit earlier.
He closed his eyes, ready to meditate himself to sleep if he needed to, but a shiver went down his spine upon the hand that came into his own strawberry blonde strands.
"Your hair feels softer than it looks," you admitted, not that there was anything wrong with it, but it was probably several years before he last cut it, and the ends must have been needing a trim for a while.
"How does it look?" he suddenly became very self-conscious about it, even if that was not your intention.
"It looks good, just maybe a bit dead on the ends."
The fact that your opinion of his hair was so important to him was a little shocking. Why did he care so much about what you thought? And why of all things, about his hair?
"I suppose I need to find a new style, then," he was tempted to roll over, to play with the lovely locks of your hair, to tell you how lovely it looked when you walked through a windy area. He decided it was best not to do that, especially when he was still trying to quiet other thoughts he had of you.
"Maybe something you haven't done before," you suggested, ready to list a few things off the top of your head.
"What did you have in mind?"
You hummed in consideration before listing something you'd thought about.
"How about you keep it longer on the top, and shorter on the sides and the back?" your hand did a good job of showing him the areas you described as you spoke. He didn't know exactly what it would look like, nor did he care. He would probably do it just because you thought it would look nice. "I think it would go well with your beard, complement it even."
Now he knew, he was cutting his hair. He wanted to look at himself in the mirror every day and be reminded that you thought he looked good. He never cared for his looks. Knew he had them, sure, but never payed much mind to them.
"I'm sure you're right," he reached he hand up, grabbing yours at the side of his head and bringing it around to kiss your palm. He laid it back where he found it, and you continued to shuffle through the soft strands. "Goodnight, little one."
summary: you and obi-wan are frequent battle partners during the clone wars. after a battle, the two of you head back to the jedi temple for some much needed rest -- and a much needed bath.
warnings: just obi being soft, implied nudity but nothing too graphic sorry
a/n: my obi-wan obsession has resurfaced 😆 pls enjoy this lil blurb of fluff and comfort bc THE MAN NEEDS IT 🥺😭 also feel free to leave some requests if you want, as i'm literally drowning in my obi feels LMAO 🥲
** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **
masterlist
----
You sat down heavily in your seat, a sigh surfacing as you sank into the mostly unforgiving cushion, but to you, it was the most comfort you had in weeks. Feeling the cool air of the cruiser’s interior as it sped through cold space, you quickly realized you were so used to the planet's rather warm and humid atmosphere.
A familiar presence settled in the seat beside you. Obi-Wan. You glanced over to see his eyes closed with exhaustion.
He was a determined fighter, often pushing his energy past the limit. It was often your job to make sure he didn’t overwork himself, but you didn’t mind. Something about you mothering him was like therapy for you.
“Get some rest,” he said, his eyes still closed.
You smiled, fixing your gaze on the grey ceiling. “Watching you rest is good enough for me. Besides, I don’t sleep well in space.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll sleep for days when we get back to the temple.”
“That’s if we’re not shipped off somewhere else,” you lamented. “Do you think home has changed?”
You could almost feel his brow furrow. “Changed? In the course of a few weeks?” he said. “I doubt it. Home could actually do with some change. I bet they still haven’t fixed the flood in the ladies’ bathroom.”
Groaning, you elbowed him. “All I want is a bath. If it’s still flooded, I’m blaming you.”
It was light banter like this that got you through those weeks, and even the battles before that. It seemed like only yesterday the two of you were made Jedi knights and quickly charged head on into a war no one was ready for.
Not that you weren’t ready. You had been ready to face the trials for a while, but because nearly the entirety of the Jedi Temple seemed to be recruited, you felt unsteady suddenly being knighted. You were sure Obi-Wan felt the same, defeating a Sith lord and then being burdened with the responsibility of a Padawan.
The two of you heavily relied on each other to watch each other’s backs, and keep each other sane. Being engulfed in battles all the time was enough to make your head spin. The sound of blasters that always seemed to frighten you became white noise.
When you finally arrived back at the temple to debrief with the Council, you felt yourself relax a little as you walked through the halls. But at the thought of standing in a meeting room for at least an hour, you sighed.
The work was never done.
“Do we have to go see the Council?” you rhetorically asked grumpily. “Can’t we just meet tomorrow?”
Obi-Wan gave you a nod. “You can go wash up. I’ll give the report.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
He sighed. “Well, you did save my life at the end there...again.”
“I suppose I did,” you laughed. “That makes five, I believe.”
Rubbing his beard in thought, he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Right. Five.”
You flashed a wide grin. “Well...if you insist on debriefing with the Council alone, then I guess I’ll get a head start on some much needed rest.” You playfully saluted. “See you around, General.”
The Jedi master nodded, his funny crooked grin appearing through his beard as he echoed the greeting. “General.”
Excitement filled you as you sped through the halls to your room to gather some things for a bath. It was a silly thing to be thrilled over, but if there was one thing you learned, take advantage of the tiny joys while you can.
And you knew you were going to enjoy it.
Humming while you practically skipped to the communal bathroom, you stopped dead in your tracks as you felt still water beneath your bare feet. You lifted your gaze to see the sunlight falling through the windows, reflecting on the water that covered the large tub and the floor surrounding it.
You could almost hear Obi-Wan’s laughter as you stood there, frozen and dejected.
You made a mental note to strangle him later.
With another heavy sigh, you walked out across the hall to the men’s room, fuming. You couldn’t care less if anyone was in the room. To your pleasant surprise, there wasn’t a single soul.
It wasn’t long before you filled the tub with scalding water and plenty of bubbles.
Sinking into the bath was by far the best feeling in your life. You wasted no time scrubbing layers of dirt and grime from your skin before you closed your eyes and lay in the tub, letting the steam fog the air.
“So I take it the other room’s still flooded.”
As you opened your eyes, Obi-Wan stood above you. “You and I both know that I desperately need this bath.” You crinkled your nose in annoyance. “Don’t forget, I still blame you.”
“Oh, I know,” he mused.
To your surprise, he began to undo his belt before shrugging off his robes, revealing his rather lean figure. He’d always been a rather conservative person ever since he was a youngling, but you guessed that living together in the most unpredictable circumstances made him more comfortable around you.
Scars carved his shoulders like constellations, including some new flesh wounds from flying shrapnel and rogue bullets. You admired his torso for another moment before closing your eyes, letting the heat of the water soak through your skin.
You could hear him shuffle and kick his boots off before joining you in the tub with a quiet splash.
Looking over, you saw him sink further into the water with a groan. “Too hot?” you asked.
He shook his head with a content smile. “It’s perfect.”
You smiled, gathering your robes. “I’ll leave you to it, then. The Council would have a fit if they knew I was in here.”
“Let them,” Obi-Wan replied, preoccupied with bubbles. “Just stay and rest. You deserve it.” He flashed a quick wink. “It’s not like anything’s going on.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Obi-Wan Kenobi?” you laughed. You hesitated before settling back in the water again. “Speaking of the Council, how was the meeting?”
His blue gaze flitted towards you. “Oh, nothing exciting. They seemed pleased,” he sighed. “They’re thinking of sending us elsewhere in a few days.”
“Of course,” you said, giving a bitter smile. “We’re in the middle of a war. We haven’t the time for anything else anymore.” You leaned your head against the edge of the tub, your gaze on the window above. “This was never supposed to happen. I mean look at us, we’re military leaders now.” You shook your head. “I wish it would just end soon.”
He inhaled deeply. “Me too.”
You turned back to look at him before you found yourself rubbing spots of dirt and grime away on his cheek. He seemed to melt into your touch, closing his eyes as your thumb found more marks on his forehead. Your touch was soothing and rhythmic.
You stifled a laugh, earning a small, somewhat annoyed, “What?”
“You’d think you rolled down a rocky hill into a pile of dirt, not battled thousands of droids,” you said, your thumb brushing over his brow to the top of his cheekbone. “You’re filthy, General.”
“I apologize for war not being more of a...civilized matter.”
Shaking your head, you began tracing his features with your fingers. The edges of his beard felt prickly under the pads of your fingers as you wiped away some bubbles.
“For what it’s worth, you’re doing the best you can,” you murmured.
His lips twitched into a thin smile. “You too.” His voice was soft and rather scratchy from yelling orders through explosions. “This will all be over soon, and we’ll all go back to living normal lives.”
“Normal,” you scoffed, nudging his bare shoulder. “We’re Jedi. We’re far from normal.”
His eyes followed your hands as you grabbed a sponge and your body scrub and began scrubbing his arms. He could feel your anxiety fading away with each scrub, almost like cleaning him was the therapy you needed.
He was infatuated with you, the way your skin glistened with steam. Your expression was relaxed and flushed from the heat, even more calm than when you slept. His head spun at the thought of smelling like you.
As he turned so you could scrub his back, massaging his muscles as you went, he couldn’t help but asking a question to fill the silence.
“Do you ever wish you weren’t a Jedi?”
Your motions stopped, and for a moment, panic made the blood drain from his face, thinking he asked the one question he shouldn’t have. When you continued, he let out a small breath.
“Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But it’s honestly been so long, I can’t see myself doing anything else. After all, we were raised here.”
He knew how you felt.
He echoed your answer in his head. Sometimes.
Maybe in a different universe, you’d be happy in the countryside on a distant planet, far from the problems of the Republic. You’d eventually settle down with a family, children perhaps, or maybe you’d live your life alone with nothing but nature for company.
Or maybe you’d still be in the middle of all the action. You’d fight and fight until there was nothing left to fight for. Peace would prevail.
Sensing his mind in a haze, you leaned over his shoulder, gently pressing yourself into him. Your chin settled over his broad shoulder and collarbone, with his beard just missing your cheek. “What’re you thinking about?”
He stiffened at your touch before relaxing. “Hypotheticals.”
You let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “As per usual.” He could feel you smiling as your lips brushed his skin. “Learn to quiet your mind, General. Those thoughts won’t do you any good.”
He turned, facing you. Instead of shying away, you kept your eye contact, brushing his long locks back.
“I can’t help it,” he joked lightly. “Perhaps I’m in need of some guidance from a well-seasoned Jedi.”
You smiled. “You’re looking right at one.”
As he watched your smile widen, he fell into your gaze again. He knew there was no such thing as luck, but he also knew he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side.
summary: you, padme’s top advisor, can’t sleep, and neither can obi-wan.
warnings: none
author’s note: i disappeared off the face of the planet for over a year bc i was in my first year of law school. somehow i survived and realized i needed a hobby. so i’m revisiting my writing and dumping this here. please be gentle, i haven’t seen the prequels in a while bc my friends won’t watch them with me, and i haven’t seen the show yet either. also would anyone like this to become a series? where it’s this kind of pining but with other characters in different fandoms? pls let me know bc I’d love the feedback. much love.
suggested listening: ‘moonlight serenade’ by glenn miller
“Your thoughts are loud.”
You jumped at the sound of his voice, posh as ever but a little rough some sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you. And what are you doing in my thoughts?” The question came out with a laugh, knowing Obi-Wan well enough that he wouldn’t get in your head without permission.
He looks down and chuckles softly. “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep, and I just heard them.”
“Dare I ask why you couldn’t sleep?” You slid over on the small stone bench, trying to make some room for him.
He cocked his head slightly, pondering, almost hesitating. But he walked over to you and sat down, tugging his robes closer around him. “Anakin, mostly. Concerns for Padme, sometimes.” A whisper, “concerns for you.”
You tried to shut your thoughts out. You couldn’t, however, helped the heat that rose to your cheeks. “Concerns about me?”
“Yes, concerns for you,” he said. “I know how the Senators are with you.” He folded his hands in on one another in his lap. ‘And I don’t like how they are with you.”
I can’t remember if I requested this, but here. I know that you made some sleeping headcanons for the OT trio, so could you do one for the PT as well?
Sleeping Headcanons: The Prequel Trio
A/N: Of course I can, angel. Have some sleepy headcanons for these three hot-ass messes. 🛏
Anakin
I feel it is important to state the fact that, as a Padawan, he often slept on the floor, next to Obi-wan’s bed, because he was worried about losing him as he had his mother and Qui Gon.
This habit has kind of stuck with him, in that he likes to be close to you.
Personal space? He doesn’t know what the concept means.
He likes sleeping next to you and will be touching you at all times during the night, even if you don’t realise it at first.
The physical intimacy, and security, of having you in his arms help ease any nightmares or concerns he may have about losing you.
He’s also used to sleeping in unusual places. From his tiny bed as a child -which he shared with his mother - to on the floor of far off planets, whilst on missions… he can sleep anywhere and doesn’t take long to drop off.
He also doesn’t really hog the sheets either, given that he’s used to sleeping without them on warm planets. He also has you next to him as a portable heater, which means as long as you’re toasty then he will be too.
It also means that you wake up most mornings, to find him tangled about you, with his face buried in your chest, his hair all ruffled and fluffy.
It’s when he looks most at peace, and this is one of the reasons you two are nearly almost always late out of bed in the mornings (much to everyone’s amusement).
You just don’t have the heart to wake him and spoil the moment… even if it does mean putting up with constant teasing from Ahsoka.
Obi-Wan
This poor man needs a nap. Like, constantly.
He is always on the move… usually chasing after Anakin or some other chaos that he’s somehow got himself dragged in to, and it surprises no one that he always looks minutes from passing out.
It’s a bit of a joke amongst you all, but you all know that if he’s sleeping then you do not wake him unless you have to - he’s earned five minutes of peace.
In fact, more than once, he’s woken up after passing out somewhere to find a blanket has been draped over him by someone.
(Anakin swears he saw him dozing in the archives once, but you can’t tell if he’s lying or not)
When Obi does make it to a bed then he’s a light sleeper, I feel.
This doesn’t change, even after the Jedi order collapses. He wakes easily, and will often struggle to return to sleep.
Pre-Order 66 this would usually mean some kind of morning meditation, or getting up to make a tea to drink in bed beside you. However, after the order, you usually find him tinkering away at something or staring out at the rising suns in a bid to pass the time until you also wake.
I think he’s also keen on having some kind of tether to you when in bed, but he has no qualms being the little spoon from time to time.
Actually, he rather like being able to let his guard down and just sleep, head pressed against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat.
He’s also been known to melt when you run your hands through his hair just so - a fact you enjoy teasing him with.
He also snores (though he denies it. Adamantly)
Padmé
This angel sleeps soundly most nights, and is only too happy to let you crawl in next to her.
She (like Obi-wan) isn’t always known for getting rest, as she always insists there is work to be done.
However, she will often at least agree to sitting in bed beside you, staring down at some draft of a Senate bill.
It’s a decent compromise as eventually her eyelids droop and she is forced to give in, and nestle down next to you.
Most mornings you find her like that, with her papers still cast about the place just inches from her hand, where they fell when she eventually passed out.
Before she sleeps, however, Padmé would enjoy the sight of you resting next to her, your body curling up against hers.
It is one of the few precious moments she gets to just pause and be content.
The other is waking up beside you, normally as soon as the sun rises.
It’s also the time when she doesn’t have to be dressed in her finery, with her hair pulled up or her person decorated with jewels and other tokens befitting her status.
She is simply Padmé, with her hair flowing and a loose silky nightgown - unencumbered and at her most natural.
To see her like it is a privilege, and one not to be taken for granted.
Summary: Morpheus’s lover has a nightmare and calls him for comfort
Requested by: @absbdbshhs
(Y/N) woke up suddenly, breathing deeply. Their mind raced from the nightmare they had just escaped. Covered in cold sweat, they pushed the blankets aside and stumbled out of bed. It was still dark, but they needed to get out of bed.
Needed to escape.
Immediately going to the bathroom and splashing water on their face as they tried to calm themself, (Y/N) couldn't understand what was going on.
Morpheus normally dealt with their dreams, making sure that they wouldn't have to experience any nightmares.
But they had just woken up from an awful one. The type of nightmare that they would have had before they had met and fallen in love with the King of Dreams.
The type that had made them scared to asleep before Morpheus had arrived in their life like a miracle.
And now one came back, and (Y/N) couldn't hide the terrified look in their eyes that they saw in the mirror. Had something happened to Morpheus? Had he gotten bored of calming his lover's sleeping mind?
Closer their eyes, (Y/N) whispered a quick plead to him to come visit them. Trying to summon him to help.
***
When Morpheus arrived to his lover's home, he first spotted them on the couch. Curled up with a cup of tea clasped in their hands, headphones over their ears.
They flinched when they spotted him, scared of him being some stranger who broke in.
Until they recognized who he was, of course.
The tea spilled slightly when they moved. "Shit!" They swore as the hot water splashed onto their hand.
Morpheus stepped closer, taking the cup from them. "Are you hurt?" He asked, sitting down beside them. Filled with concern that they had called for him. "Why did you summon me?"
"I.. I’m sorry." (Y/N) felt a little embarrassed. "I had a nightmare, and you usually deal with them and-"
Morpheus immediately understood what was happening. "Ah, I see.” He spoke, calming slightly. “I'm sorry. Was it one of the usual ones?"
He felt a pain in his heart as (Y/N) nodded, truly sorry that he hadn't been able to stop that.
He hated to see that his lover scared in his own Realm. That they were in pain and he couldn't stop it. "I was visiting my siblings, for work reasons. I hadn't been in the Dreaming to supervise your sleep."
He had left the meeting as soon as he felt his lover call.
Honestly, (Y/N) couldn’t hide a slight feeling of relief that there was a reason for their nightmare. Glad that he hadn't just gotten bored.
"I'm sorry if I messed with your work." They apologized.
But Morpheus just shook his head.
"You didn't. I was looking for an excuse to leave. You know what my family can be like." He told they, making (Y/N) chuckle a little before yawning. "Are you still tired?" Morpheus asked gently.
He could only imagine how little sleep (Y/N) had gotten.
(Y/N) nodded and the King of the Dreaming stood up, offering them his hand.
He led them back to their bed, letting them cuddle up next to him. “You don't even sleep." (Y/N) said, head rested against Morpheus's chest.
"No." His deep voice was like a lullaby to them. "But I can make sure that you sleep well.”
Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x wife!reader
Summary: When Morpheus is captured your spirit is broken and it will take more than his return to heal the wounds on your heart.
Warnings: angst, reader pain, more angst
WC: 3338
The Sandman Masterlist
Every great King has their Right Hand that is trusted above all else to carry out the will of their liege. While the King passes judgement the Right Hand is the weapon wielded to execute the sentence. Their hands are drenched with blood, it cakes the skin and stains the nails. Even long after they have been scrubbed clean, the sense of it remains - the Red Right Hand.
Lucifer has Mazikeen, God has Michael, Morpheus has you.
The argument had been ongoing since you broke the news about The Corinthian to Morpheus. His pacing was driving you mad, the incessant sounds of his boots on the stone floor of his room.
“Would you just stop!” you finally snapped, grabbing your husband’s hand and halting his turn to retrace his steps. “This argument is futile, you cannot leave your Kingdom.”
“It would only be for but a moment,” he soothed, resting his forehead against yours. “You are weaker in the Waking, I cannot risk sending you after him.”
“So are you,” you countered, feeling as if the argument was as cyclical as his pacing had been. “And you are far more important to the survival of the universe than I am.”
He pressed his lips to your frown and whispered the truth that was forbidden by his function, “Not to me.”
Pushing away from him, you felt the cool air fill the void that had been warmed by his body. “This is my function, my purpose, Morpheus. If I cannot fulfil it then what am I to do?”
“Wait for my return.” He swept his robe from where it lay draped over the loveseat and cast it over himself, the constellations that mapped the way home shimmering in the lining. “I will return.”
The door slammed shut behind him and you knew the order he spoke came from your King not your lover.
You felt his departure from the realm not long after, the ghost of a hand reaching into your chest and squeezing the air from your lungs. You fell to your knees gasping at the loss of his presence in the Dreaming and that was where Lucienne found you some time later.
“Small sips,” Lucienne said softly as she raised a tonic to your lips.
The liquid was imbued with Morpheus’ power, your sustenance while he was away from his realm. All the entities residing in the Dream required some amount of his powerful presence to survive, but you seemed to need him the most.
Lucienne helped you to the loveseat and you smiled gratefully as she went to place the tonic on the small table but she froze. She felt the same ripple you did and looked around the room as you watched the colour draining from the walls, the curtains, the landscape beyond.
“I’m sorry…” Morpheus’ voice was merely the wind blowing through the trees, but you felt his words shatter your eardrums.
The tonic fell from Lucienne’s fingers as she grasped at the pain in her chest, a pain you knew all too well. The vial splintered against the stone but you could do nothing more than pull yourself to your feet and stumble towards the door. If you could just make it to the Gatekeepers, if one of them had the strength to fly, you could get to him.
If you could just…
Darkness greeted you like an old friend, taking away the pain as you drifted into the timeless space between the ether.
“Where is she, Lucienne? Did she abandon me too?”
“My lord.” Lucienne looked away, casting her sight out over the broken walls of the palace and beyond. “We placed her in the Misty Isles.”
Morpheus spun on his heel, his robe billowing behind him as his fists closed at his side. “I don’t understand.”
“She…my lord, I don’t think I should be the one to tell you,” Lucienne said, unable to hold his intense stare. “When you were captured, whatever spell they used to drain your powers - it drained hers too. She was adrift within moments.”
Dust clouded the air as the ground vibrated and more bricks crumbled around the room. His volatile mental state manifested into physical form as the land quaked and his chest shuddered with uneven breaths. “Take me to her.”
Lucienne stepped forward with a shake of her head. “You are still too weak, my lord, you need your sand, your helm and your ruby if you are to plan on helping her.”
Morpheus sagged at the truth, the weight of his guilt pressing on him until he dropped to the stairs that led to his empty throne. “I did not mean for this to happen, Lucienne. She told me not to go.”
“I know, but it doesn’t change what happened. The Dreaming must be restored before you shirk your duties to find her.” Lucienne was correct, of course, for The Corinthian still prowled the Waking for victims and his realm lay in rubble and ruins. “She has waited for over a century-“
“You need not remind me just how long I spent in captivity.”
“That is not what I intended, I merely meant to say that a few more weeks will make no difference in her ether-state.” She shrugged indifferently as she tucked her book behind her back. “So how do you plan on getting back your tools?”
Specks of light shimmered out of focus, the colours effervescent as they danced around your vision. You had been adrift for so long you forgot what life was outside the endless darkness that had blanketed you.
You were floating, stationary and hurtling through the cosmos all at once, bound by no form as you faintly existed everywhere and nowhere. You had become the infinite sand that your lover had carelessly thrown into the air, each grain fallen and forgotten once it served its purpose.
“Come to me,” he called. “I have returned.”
The flickering lights pricking the dark canvas of space burned brighter until they were stars that you recognised. The constellation was a map to find your way home, it was a promise that had been made between lovers wrapped in that robe of his.
“I have need of you,” he pleaded. “Return to me.”
He called to every molecule of you, the charismatic magnetism of his voice shepherding the fractured pieces back together. The brightest star in the sky beckoned you towards it, willing you to hither with haste.
“Come home, to the Dreaming, to me.”
A single mote of your essence shifted closer to the star, to the voice. That single mote attracted another. Then another. Your essence grew as it gathered back all that was lost and streamed across the universe, hurtling like a nova destined to burn all that blocked its path.
You crashed into the thick mist that gave the Isle its name and lost all sight, but it mattered not. You could feel him. So close, he was so close as he cast his power out. He became the North Star guiding you back to the body you had left behind.
Pain exploded as you opened your eyes to blinding light after years of darkness. The rise of your chest and a shuddering intake of air cracked the thin layer of ice that had permeated along your skin. The ice was already melting as heat returned to your body, the flakes turning to icy rivulets that seeped into your robe.
“Welcome home,” Morpheus murmured softly, his head appearing above yours and blocking the glare of light from behind him. “I have missed you, my love.”
You tried to speak but you couldn’t remember how to bring the words from your mind. Your essence had reunited with your body but there seemed to be something missing, something important, you just couldn’t remember what.
“It will take time, my lord,” Lucienne said as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She needs rest, and so do you.”
“I am fine, Lucienne,” he stubbornly argued, even as he felt himself swaying from the energy he had expelled to gather the pieces of you from across the universe. “I must get her home, she will catch her death in this place.”
You were shivering, teeth chattering uncontrollably, when Morpheus fought against his exhaustion and gathered you into his arms. Your head fell into the crook of his neck and his scent enveloped you softer than his robe that he wrapped around you.
“I am sorry,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to your cold forehead.
A strong wind whipped around you and it was a familiar touch as he whisked you across the Dreaming, leaving the Misty Isles far behind for the comforts and warmth of the palace.
“Home,” you croaked, regretting the word as it felt like razorblades dancing in your throat.
The pulse in his throat raced as he heard your voice for the first time in over a century and his chest tightened at the pain that laced that one word. His arms tightened around you as he stepped beneath the archway, his three wyverns bowing their heads from their perches up above.
“Home,” Morpheus concurred. “We have all missed you.”
“Uh, who’s the broad?” An unfamiliar raven asked as he swooped in from the library entrance.
You lifted your trembling hand, testing your power only to find it almost non-existent in your current state. You tried to send a blast of wind to blow the bird out of the room, but instead it was a puff so weak it couldn’t have rustled a leaf in a forest.
“Matthew,” Morpheus sighed as if the irritating interaction were a daily occurrence, “this is my wife, the right hand to the Dreaming.”
The raven battered his wings and dipped his head into a bow. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Dream.”
You cleared your throat and held your hand out in invitation, Matthew landing carefully in your palm. “Watch him.”
“Y-yeah, you got it, Mrs Dream,” Matthew promised before taking to the air after catching the subtle nod Morpheus gave him.
Your head rolled back to his neck and your arm fell limp at your side as you expended the last of your energy but you couldn’t let sleep take you just yet. He was already watching you when you looked up at him. “Jessamy?”
Your vision blurred as tears swelled in your eyes at the tiny shake of his head and a sob choked from your burning lungs. You had been the one to welcome Jessamy to the Dreaming, shown her the purpose of the Dream Lord’s ravens, and she had been a most trusted friend for centuries.
“I’m sorry.”
You swallowed the scream that was building and hid deeper into the folds of his robes. “I don’t want your apologies.“
It would have hurt less if you slapped him the way he recoiled at your bitterness. If you could have walked without surely collapsing you would have pulled yourself from his arms and made your way to bed on your own. He should have listened to you, he should have never left the Dreaming. You wouldn’t have been lost in the ether and Jessamy would still be alive.
The bedroom was still the same as it had always been but as you lay between the sheets you felt a million miles away from Morpheus. You could hear the pages turn of the book he read and felt the mattress shift with each of his small movements but you refused to look at him, opting to turn your back and face the sheer curtains that billowed in the breeze.
At first he had tried to get you to talk to him, scream at him, anything. After a few days he had given up and instead told you his story, bringing you to tears as he described the century he spent trapped in a glass globe. He thought his story would encourage you to talk but it only served to remind you of your failure.
A soft knock at the door had Morpheus closing his book and rising from the bed, slipping out of the room as Lucienne updated him on the happenings in the Dreaming.
“How is she?” Lucienne asked, her concern igniting a fresh ache in your chest.
“I have only known one other to return from the ether and she too was changed by it.”
You thought of his sibling and shivered at the comparison. Delight had been adrift and returned as Delirium.
“It has only been a few days, give her time. And get her out of that room, remind her why she loved your realm. Remind her that she still has a place in it.”
The door creaked open and Morpheus’ bare feet padded across the room until he was in your vision, knelt beside your head. “Do you remember your purpose?”
You blinked twice and reached across the space to touch his cheek to convince yourself this wasn’t a dream. “I remember failing.”
“You didn’t fail, my sweet.” Morpheus cradled your hand against his face and closed his eyes. “I failed you.”
He was playing Jenga with the blocks that had built a wall between you, one by one he was removing that self defence that kept him from reaching you. He was removing the barrier that kept him from hurting you again.
Your fingers turned damp as his blink expelled the tear that had glistened over thick lashes that lined his eyes. “Why do you cry, Dream Lord?”
“I hated you for so long, wondering why you didn’t come for me. I thought my right hand had forsaken me,” he admitted with an angry shake of his head, anger aimed within. “Then, when I escaped…When I returned…”
His voice failed him so he pulled away to stand before the panoramic window and stare across the vast landscape beyond the palace walls. “My actions were my own, and the consequences are my burden to carry. As your husband, I wish to repair this divide that I caused. But, as King of this realm I have a need that is greater than my own selfish intent.”
You pushed back the sheets and let your toes touch the cold floor, his eyes following the line of your bare legs until they reached the hem of the negligee you wore.
“Tell me what you would have me do.” This was safe territory and you were grateful that the conversation had drifted away from matters of the heart and matrimony, if only for a short while. You weren’t yet ready to give him your body that you had only just regained.
“I have begun the repairs to the realm but there is growing dissent among the creations.”
You looked at your hand as you walked towards him. Even now you expected it to be red from the blood you had spilled in his name. Dream of the Endless was forbidden to take life but you were bound by no such laws.
Oblivious to your rumination he continued, “Some are not so willing to give up the freedoms they had while I was away.”
“I can imagine,” you uttered as you closed your fist. “Those nightmares have a tendency to tug their leash at the best of times. Name them and it shall be done.”
Morpheus unfurled your fist and traced the creases that had remained the same for centuries. “Dagon and Lestat, but I don’t want them dead. They remember you. I want to use that memory to usher in a new future. One where your hands remain clean, as does my conscience.”
“You offer forgiveness?” You frowned at the foreign word, and you almost sighed with relief when he shook his head.
“I offer them a choice,” he said as his eyebrows furrowed together. “A chance to change their behaviour and should they refuse then their death is wholly their own making. Will you see this vision of mine come to life?”
It was a purpose and it was serving the kingdom, though it would certainly be an adjustment from the ruthless justice that you had meted out for centuries. “I will, my lord.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, the curve of his lips softening the harsh lines of his face and you couldn’t remember the last time you had heard those words on his lips.
“You have changed.”
The smile faded behind a cool exterior, his mask for when he wandered unfamiliar terrain. “As have you.”
“Maybe it is for the best,” you murmured as you eased your hand from his, his fingers twitching with the urge to hold tighter. “I should like to leave the Dreaming once we have visited Dagon and Lestat.”
Morpheus recoiled as if you had thrown the strength of your power at the centre of his chest and he stumbled back, his hand clutching for the wall to steady him. The night sky shimmered in his eyes as he waged with his emotions and failed to control them.
You went to take a step closer but he held his hand up and stopped you. You dropped your shoulders in defeat and sighed as you expressed your feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface since you awoke on the Misty Isles. “I have been at your side for five centuries, Morpheus. I have always put the needs of you and this Kingdom first and I loved my role. But right now it scares me.”
His head snapped up at the admission. “Why?”
“My love for you made me weak, Morpheus. I lost myself to the ether because I couldn’t imagine living in a world without you. The Dreaming crumbled and I could do nothing because of my grief for you, for us, it paralysed me. I was your Right Hand and when I was needed most, I failed the realm.” You wiped the tears that had formed and swore they would be your last. “I need to leave so that I may find my own strength, one that won’t fail me the next time you leave.”
Morpheus inched closer and reached for your tear you had missed. “I am stronger than I have been in aeons, it won’t happen again.”
“You can’t promise me that.” You growled, brushing his hand away. “There will always be someone that covets the power of the Endless and thousands may fail but someone, at some point in time will succeed through sheer desperation. I won’t drift idly through the cosmos the next time that happens.”
“You will return.” Half question, half statement.
You nodded. “I will not forsake my duties…I just need time. To heal.”
“Away from me,” he uttered.
“Away from the temptation of old habits,” you corrected, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around him. “I love you, Morpheus, that has not changed.”
He rested his cheek against yours and encased you in his arms, clutching you to his chest like a child with their favourite teddy that saw them through the darkest nights. “I love you too.”
You reluctantly pulled away and felt his eyes tracking you as you went to the adjoining room that still held your clothing, donning the red cloak that marked your position. The fabric held the musky scent of stale air and dust but its familiar weight and warmth was welcoming and Morpheus watched it sway around your feet with a swell of pride clogging his throat.
“Are you ready?” he asked, sand pouch in hand and ready to pour.
You reached into the folds to the pocket realm within and withdrew the ruby crown that Morpheus had gifted upon your wedding night. He took it from your grasp and with a small smile he placed it on your head. Before he could back away, you rose to meet his lips with a soft kiss. You weren’t ready to give him more, but from the flash of his teeth he was grateful to have received the small gift.
summary: morpheus is captured by roderick burgess, but is swiftly rescued by his wife
A/n: yeah ik, ik, i should be working on love game but hehe this was way too irresistible. basically a Love game au where morpheus treated you right and you save morpheus from his imprisonment at the height if burgess’ power. Think of this as what could have been is morpheus was a better husband from the beginning. gif not mine !!
Jessamy was your final warning that Roderick Burgess is not your normal opponent. He was such a ridiculously luck-favored individual that despite failing to capture Death, he had imprisoned the next best thing. He stole his tools, bringing him prosperity. The magician Burgess became renowned in the waking world, a man of miracles, blessed by the gods who created magic themselves, and- some say, has a demon locked in his basement.
You had tried to enter it once, thinking that you could just pop by and drag Dream from his cage, but someone had tipped Burgess to write runes around every entrance and exit in his house that weaken you and can ban you from entering, unless someone wanted you in. You have a strong hunch that they were the same person to warn the magician not to break the summoning circle, and enclose Dream inside a glass sphere.
You were with Jessamy, helping her dodge every bullet Burgess had tried to aim. It is through Jessamy that you finally get your first glance of the mansion’s inner lodgings, preening forward as Jessamy lights up a fire and hides in the corners of the mansion until, finally, you are greeted with the first sight of Dream in a year.
His unruly hair was the first thing you saw, before he slowly lifted his head up in hope. Morpheus is stripped bare, without his helm, ruby and pouch of sand. Without any robes. He looks at Jessamy with adoration. Wherever Dream the Endless goes, there will always be his loyal raven not too far behind. But there was a quick lift of his lips as he spots his bird- a private smile. That one is for you.
Though you were far, far away from Earth, you could hear the small clink Jessamy’s beak made as she frantically pecked on the glass orb that holds your husband. You watch in devastation how the hope in Morhpeus’ eyes faded away, replaced by a look of utter resignment. Still, he lifts his hand to touch his glass cage to his precious bird.
While in her head, you could feel Jessamy’s emotions, how she was as desperate as you to set her lord go, her utter relief at how she finally entered the house after months of trying, and her overwhelming fear that something was going to go wrong. You feel how Jessamy pushes and fails to push this lingering fear of death that she senses in the air, trying her best to focus on the glass, to keep pecking, and pecking until-
Until nothing.
You open your eyes with a start and mouth agape, grasping your sheets in freight as you feel a phantom pain at your back. You try to remember where you are as you get up from bed. You feet touches a lush red rug that stretches a little more after the bed ends, a floor with pristine marble walls that shimmer as you walk, and a mirror on your right that if you go through would take you to your own realm.
Home. This is where you are, home in the Dreaming, home to the private chamber you share with your husband, Dream. Dream, who is not here. Dream, who is in the waking world, held prisoner by some amateur magician who got lucky.
You know what you must do. You exit your room and walk towards his throne room in a hurry, up the stairs to his seat of power uninterrupted until you sense a quiet presence with you.
Lucienne is at the foot of the steps, looking at you in both sadness and fear as she spots your bow and quiver with your person, your trusted weapons that will aid you in whatever comes next.
“My lady,” she starts, and her warm dark gaze falls on you as you stare at her eyes back. Somehow there is an entire conversation that was said in silence as you look at each other's gaze. You can hear her warnings, her hesitations on your leave, her worry on the slowly deteriorating state of the Dreaming. You can hear her attempts to persuade to stay, that perhaps Morpheus would free himself soon. In your ears, you can also hear your replies, your attempts to soothe her worry, your promises to come back. It is not lost to you that you may be repeating the exact same thing your husband said.
“Safe travels.” She says instead and you know you have gotten her blessing.
You slip into the waking world without a moment’s thought.
-
There are three facts you recite to yourself as you approach the Burgess Manor in all its splendor. First, there is a party tonight. The Burgess monarch seems to love these parties, having one at every month, each growing more extravagant than the last. There is a growing crowd of eager party goers hoping to catch a glimpse and the favor of the Burgess monarch. Two, thanks to the runes carved above every entrance of the house, you must be invited inside.
You walk towards the crowd in confidence, putting on a show to anyone who is looking. You glance to your right as you see yourself in the reflection of a car window- utterly gorgeous. Lips as red as the blood you will cry tonight, eyes as dark as sunless sky and your smile as deadly as your fury. Three, you are the most beautiful girl in the party.
Not that it matters, you think to yourself as you walk through the crowd who parts as you strut. They will all see who they want to see.
You catch a boy guarding the front door as he lets other guests in. You follow the line of people, before catching the arm of an unsuspecting man, halting him from entering the door.
“Wha- oh. Oh, hello, may I help you?” His initial anger has immediately faded as he saw you, replaced by an infatuated grin. You squint your eyes when you realize he is not a reminder of his lady wife when he looks at you, but rather a girl from a whore house a couple of blocks from his home.
“I can’t help but to notice you were unaccompanied on this lovely night,” you start, tugging his arm closer until you are hugging it. “I was wondering if I can keep you company tonight…?”
The nameless man smiles easily. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
You giggle in delight and the man leads you towards the door. As you passed by the carved runes of the door, you felt a wave of fatigue run over that almost made you stumble. The man you are thankfully does not notice, as his head was still in the clouds of scoring a woman so beautiful.
But despite his luck, the man quickly announces his leave as soon as he sees Roderick Burgess on a chair. He is more eager to save his dying company than to have the presence of Love themselves, it seems. You do not mind and laugh comfortingly as he mournfully apologizes as he takes his leave, giving you not one, but four longing glances as he approached his target. You do not mind. The nameless man had let you inside and led you to Roderick Burgess in less than five minutes. You would have considered blessing him if only he was faithful to his marriage.
You slink behind people, accepting a glass of champagne to blend in but never leaving your sights off the man who had imprisoned Dream. He is constantly surrounded by different people, some part of his household, but most were his fellow amateur magicians and cultists, eager to get his acquaintance. You wait until he is finally alone. He stands to walk, and you follow.
“All that talking must be tiring.” You have heard that he has a lover already, a young blonde girl that is often seen hanging on his arms in these types of events. But the fact that you had not seen her yet tonight makes you optimistic. That and how you wear his old wife’s face, the one that face that Randall inherited- its why he loved him the best, you know you have won. “Isn’t it tiring?”
It takes a second for him to reply, too taken aback by a dead face. “It is but a necessary evil of the powerful,” he says, offering you his arm. You happily accept and cling to it. “Do you drink, fair lady?”
“I do, but I am not as fond of wine, sir.” You reply. You place your hand on his chest as a spur of red magic ignites out of your palms. You feel his heart and squeeze. “I’m afraid you must drink twice as much for the both of us tonight.”
Love me, love me, love me, your magic inside him chants.
Roderick Burgess smiles and laughs like a happy man, and you knew you spoke like his dead wife came to life. Despite his sins against Morpheus, you find comfort to at least provide him this brief fantasy. A human’s grief has always hit you a hard, and you would have felt bad for exploiting his mourning if he did not have you husband locked under his house. You know what you must do.
You patiently wait with a smile getting harder to hide as the hours pass by. You watch as Roderick Burgess receives drink after drink, never declining a glass of wine that was offered. You wait until he is stumbling in his walk, until he needs you by his side to keep himself from falling.
The party was long over when he was finished. All guests had retreated home, or had passed out in the living room. Roderick Burgess clings on your shoulder as he thinks you are leading him to his bedroom. He is too drunk to notice that you have not climbed the stairs, but rather down to the hallway, towards the door to his basement.
You halted at the door that Jessamy had previously entered. “What is behind this door, sir? Surely not another one of your living rooms?”
Roderick took a glance at the door and laughed. “A great failure,” he replies. “But a blessing in disguise nonethelessh.”
His voice slurs and you smile. “Impossible. Failure does not know Roderick Burgess,” you say and he laughs even harder. “After all, they whisper of the demon you keep in your basement.”
He shrugs himself off your grip as he stumbles towards the door. “Failure? I know it well, girl. My son, gone. My wife-“ he mournfully looks at you before quickly looking away out of grief or lust, you do not know. “-is dead. You think I do not know what you are doing? You’re just like the rest of them! So hungry for power, so hungry for what I can give.”
You seethe. He cannot give anything. Every single blessing that was brought forth to his life was because of your husband's stolen tools.
“You are jushh like the rest of ‘em,” he declares, his words getting louder and sloppier. “But tonight, I shall show you, thanks to the wonderful company you’ve given me tonight.”
You did not give him good company. Roderick had fun by himself drink after drink. You had merely waited.
He swings the basement doors open and enters and you follow quietly behind him like a silent shadow. There is a stone hallway that you go through before finally, you see your husband’s sphere cage. At the sound of your voice, Morpheus lets out a small grin. His eyes were curious, head tilting in confusion on what you were doing down here. You make it a point not to look at him.
“He is not a demon,” Roderick starts, walking to Dream. He stops before the summoning circle. “He is Endless. More than a God, but less than Death.” Roderick turns to you and beckons you with his hand. You accept his hand gracefully, and Roderick leads you beside him. At the corner of your eye, you see Morpheus look at your conjoined palms. “I had tried to summon Death for my Randall. I got him instead,” he spits angrily.
“Then what does he do?” You ask, eyeing at the summoning circle. You see Dream’s prison, but you do not know how to break it yet. You must be smart. “And this?” You ask, your foot gesturing to the runes written on the floor.
You were tugged back harshly before your foot could even touch the circle. “Break that circle and he will kill you.” Roderick hissed in an angry breath. Morpheus’ eyes darken at Roderick’s grating action, but dared not to move.
“He does not bargain,” Roderick starts, looking back at Morpheus and you take it as your cue to move back slowly. You feel your bow appear in your hands, strong and steady just like how you must be. There is already an arrow ready on it waiting for you. “nor does he show any sort of emotions.”
You nock the arrow, keeping your eyes on the man. Before you, Morpheus eyes your weapon but keeps a passive face giving nothing away from your scheme.
“He cannot do anything at all.” Roderick raises a hand and gestures for you without turning. “Come, love. Say hi. Don’t be afraid, he cannot even speak.”
You look at Morpheus in the eye and raise your bow to Roderick’s head. “Hello, Dream.”
Morpheus looks at you now with all the fondness in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips- the rare kind of look reserved for a selected few that you receive in bulk. “Hello, wife.”
You could see Roderick’s confused frown reflected on the glass sphere before turning his head to you. As if in slow motion, you watch his eyes darken in fury and embarrassment as he realizes he has been tricked. He opens his mouth, but your arrow hits his head first. You watch as your arrow disappears as soon as it hits its mark, and you wait for Roderick Burgess to hit the floor before you scramble to the floor and erase as much of the summoning circle as you can. You frantically scrub every written symbol you can reach until there is a wide gap.
“My Love,” Morpheus calls, halting your action. You turn to him, relishing to see him through your eyes. You raise your hand against the sphere and Dream does the same. So close and yet so far.
“I am sorry about Jessamy,” you whisper, guilt lacing every word. Your husband closes his eyes in pain, as if reliving the exact memory of his trusted bird dying in front of him. “What must I do?” You look around quickly. “Morpheus, we don’t have much time and I- I am weakened here. There are runes, and if you want to get out you must do it now.”
“I cannot break this cage from the inside, my Love.” Dream says with the same resigned look on his face. “Leave me, if you must-“
“No!” You shriek. “No, please, Morpheus-“ You look around again, searching for the room for anything that might help. There were two desks before the sphere, probably for the guards stationed around Dream, but you do not see any firearms. There is nothing strong enough to break his cage, until the thought finally dawns upon you.
“I must cry,” you realize.
You drop to the floor as soon as you say the words, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar pain of your blood tears start streaming from your face. You have felt fire burn before, but nothing will ever compare to the poisonous magic your tears bring. Your head feels like it's frozen and on fire at the same time, but your eyes carry the most damage your tears bring, making them feel like a hot white pain. It is a burn, poison and freezing at the same time.
Despite your weakened state, you managed to clutch a single arrow out. You grip on it like it's your lifeline before putting it’s tip under your eye to catch your blood tears.
“Love, why must you weep for me?” Morpheus asks, kneeling down in his cage, trying his best to be as close as he could.
You try to laugh. “I have been deprived of my husband for almost a year, my lord,” you reply weakly, still bowing at your burning eyes. As soon as you know the arrow is coated fully with your blood tears, you halt crying and weakly nock the arrow immediately. “He was taken from me.”
Morpheus, familiar to the power your blood tears hold, had backed away as far as he could in his glass cage. You waste no moment aiming your arrow towards the glass and shoot. The glass explodes with a loud boom that echoes across the room, shaking the basement and the house above you. Distantly, you hear screams above and you wonder if you had accidentally caused an earthquake. Your arrow makes you fly across the room, hitting the stone wall that you were behind before.
But all thoughts leave your head when a familiar touch holds your face gently. Morpheus is finally in front of you, his hands feeling so warm despite not being human. He looks at you with stars in his eyes and a smile of adoration on his mouth.
“But crying pains you.”
You feel his thumb wipe your blood tears away, staining your cheeks even redder. “I would cry rivers of blood if it means having you back.”
You smile in his hands, eyes bloodshot and cheeks stained red. Morpheus has never seen you so beautiful. Slowly, he leans forward and gives you a kiss on your head before cradling your head again to look at you.
Your husband is not one to say his words aloud, but you heard thank you, I’m sorry, and I love you through his kiss all the same.
“Let us go home,” you say, grasping his hand and kissing his palm.
“As long as Dream of the Endless is with Love, his wife,” Morpheus starts. “He is already home.”
Summary: You and Obi-Wan have never gotten along, that much has always been true. But when you have to go undercover together at a fancy gala, you realize that it doesn’t always have to be like that with him.
this is my contribution to @mermaidxatxheart’s hot writer summer challenge with the prompt “enemies to lovers.” i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it :)
What about jumpy dancing in the rain with Obi-wan? Reader had a bad day and he is there to cheer her up😊😍
LOVE!!!❤❤❤
Hi I just got through my first week as a sophomore in college. So I'm good 👍
You Call Darling I'll Answer
Obi wan was standing watch on a balcony of the Jedi Temple. The sun was setting and he could hear thunder in the distance meaning it was going to rain soon. Foosteps came around causing him to draw his lightsaber ready to fight until he locked eyes your broken state. Your robe was tousled around and he could see tiredness in your eyes. He closes his weapon clipping it back onto his belt opening his arms that I immediately ran to sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around my form resting his chin ontop of my head hating to see me upset. The younglings I was teaching today just refused to lisen and I had to say good-bye to my padawan today and send them on their first mission on their own. "What can I do to make you feel better sweetheart. I hate seeing you cry." He whispered tilting my chin up with his thumb with a weak gaze.
He wiped away my tears with his thumbs while I clutched the fabric of his robe in my hands feeling some light raindrops hit the tip of my nose. He started to tug me inside but I grabbed his forearm holding him in his place. "Dance with me Obi-wan." He stepped up taking my hands in his with a concerned smile on his face. "We could catch a cold out here Y/n." Shrugging my shoulders I started twirling around taking him with me since he still had our hands together. The rain starts picking up making our boots squeak on the ground but I smiled seeing Obi-wan twirl me underneath his arm. I squeeze his hand holding mine suddenly jumping around with my hands in the air like we were at a concert or something. Surprisingly he actually joined in his brown robe getting thrown around until I slipped in a puddle screaming. "Obi-wan!"
Quickly he snagged my wrist wrapping his other arm around my waist before I could hit the ground. My hands death gripping the front of his shirt when our eyes locked onto each other. He releases a gasp he was holding while the rain picked up even more soaking us from head to toe but I couldn't care. The only thing that matters is that Obi-wan and I are here together. "I can't believe you just saved me. I guess you were right it's not a good idea to dance in the rain." Obi-wan helps me stand so we got inside the dry indoors of his quarters before he said a reply back to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist kissing me softly where I kissed him back wrapping my arms around his neck. "You don't have to worry. You call darling and I'll answer. Always and forever." I grinned leaning up on my toes kissing him once more. He broke the kiss resting his forehead onto mine where we got changed out of our wet clothes climbing in his warm bed falling asleep with smiles on our faces.
