pairing: Dream/ Morpheus x gn!Reader (no 'y/n' used)
word count: 930
summary: 3 times you kiss him, 1 time he kisses you. [fluffiest fluff fluff + tiny bit of Jessamy reminiscence but dw, you're there to take care of Dream]
─── ☾ ────
"My lord."
your voice is a yearning whisper in his ears as your lips find his cheek. Your warm breath hits him and he is watching you closely, head tilted lightly with pursed lips.
The Lord of Dreams had seen beauty in all its forms but you...you have stardust in your eyes and the whole universe in your soul that made even the Moon blush.
A fallen star in the presence of an Endless being so enamored by you that he has sworn to breathe your name into the cosmos for the end of time.
He sighs in content, keeping his eyes on you and studying your every move. You're so soft in your movements, so graciously do your fingertips dance across his jaw, like the feathers of a raven. It forces his mind to briefly wander and you notice his head tilting down just the tiniest bit. The deep hum that is pure power radiating off of him fills the room in a creeping darkness.
He still mourns the hundred years of confinement. The loss of his most loyal friend. How could he not.
But you're there at his side and your words ground him while your touch gifts him a taste of what it would feel like to touch the clouds.
"My liege."
Gently you press your lips to his nose and let them linger for just a second to press your forehead to his. Only now does he close his eyes to see the stars shine behind his eyelids. And you're there with him, in a sea, an ocean of galaxies.
His hand subconsciously finds yours and it's so soft, you almost forget he has existed for eons. Three faint squeezes follow. A ritual the two of you have repeated for longer than you can remember. It's a promise, a vow saying all the things words will never be able to. Only now do the corners of his mouth lift, replacing the pout with another promise.
You can feel his other hand snaking to the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. He can never get you close enough. Morpheus is always on the brink of wanting to wrap a big warm blanket of dreams and fantasies around the both of you and never let you go again. Wanting to hide under it like little humans do in order to escape the waking or dreaming world and create their own.
And in this moment he is just that: a lovesick being with the childlike need to escape of this moment ever ending.
Firm and big is the hand on your back. You're encompassed by his entire aura, the low hum radiating in your own soul now. He's studying you again, his eyes observing every aspect of your face as if he's an artist looking at his muse in hopes of ever being able to capture your beauty. And yet, the Lord of Dreams thinks himself incapable of ever creating something as perfectly imperfect as you.
Eventually his eyes settle on your lips and you see the wanting like a dark cloud forming in his eyes. The hand that was holding yours moves up your arm towards your shoulder, raising goosebumps all over your body. His touch is enchanting, like he's leaving traces of yet unwritten creations behind. His warm hand lingers on your collarbone for a moment and then moves to cup your jaw with long fingers.
Right in this moment, Morpheus has the whole Universe under his fingertips. The Endless can feel your power just as much as you feel his. It's intoxicating. Addicting even. His lips part lightly and there is such craving and need behind those eyes, you feel you might return to dust under his gaze and touch at any moment.
Morpheus leans closer but not in one quick movement. He does it at such a torturous slow pace, it drives you absolutely insane.
Lips just barely hovering over each other you close the small gap with one last promise hanging from your lips: "my love," he eats it right up, inhales your words into his very being and leaves both of you starstruck. A melodic deep hum fills your mouth while your lips move against each other in a practiced dance.
Morpheus can almost taste the sweetness of the Universe on your lips. He kisses you like you have poetry and addiction in your bones, as if he is starved of your very being and will not survive without you at his side. The hand on your lower back is gripping and pressing you more tightly against him now and yet he has to pull away at last, his lips even more plump and pink than before.
His eyes glisten as he's looking into yours and you're not sure what exactly he's thinking of.
The corners of his mouth turn up once more, eyes even more droopy looking. He's nostalgic, part of him scared, terrified even of ever losing you.
"My muse."
His voice is raspy, that low hum ever present and you wish you could hide him from the world for forever.
"Only you, only ever you," he follows softly and it's said like a statement with the whisper of a vow behind it.
Next thing you know, his lips press against your forehead and linger just a second longer before he pulls you into him, wrapping his coat around the two of you. He still doesn't think you can ever be close enough to him, but this comes pretty close.
It's been 2 years since I've written this and I can't bring myself to watch S2 Part 2. not with what we know now of the writer and not with the knowledge that the season will end like that.
Might need to write some comfort Morpheus stuff because my heart hurts so much, it's time for a comeback. In the meantime: take this my dear Morpheus fans.
After that ending of You S4 p2 I'm considering writing an x reader
reader completely fucks over Joe and either
reader kills Joe Goldberg
reader outsmarts Joe...
Voting ended onMar 18, 2023
..., gets him imprisoned and he has to forever sit with the knowledge that this person who he had never suspected of anything is ultimately... better than him.
I would die for the Corinthian and Wanderer. No questions asked. Thank you Kat for all these hours spent writing and creating this story <3
@the-darklings , today I bury you in me; Maria Petrovykh, "Love me. I am pitch black"; Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo; Natalie wee, "least of all"; art by me
pairing: Dream/ Morpheus x gn!Reader (no 'y/n' used)
word count: 930
summary: 3 times you kiss him, 1 time he kisses you. [fluffiest fluff fluff + tiny bit of Jessamy reminiscence but dw, you're there to take care of Dream]
─── ☾ ────
"My lord."
your voice is a yearning whisper in his ears as your lips find his cheek. Your warm breath hits him and he is watching you closely, head tilted lightly with pursed lips.
The Lord of Dreams had seen beauty in all its forms but you...you have stardust in your eyes and the whole universe in your soul that made even the Moon blush.
A fallen star in the presence of an Endless being so enamored by you that he has sworn to breathe your name into the cosmos for the end of time.
He sighs in content, keeping his eyes on you and studying your every move. You're so soft in your movements, so graciously do your fingertips dance across his jaw, like the feathers of a raven. It forces his mind to briefly wander and you notice his head tilting down just the tiniest bit. The deep hum that is pure power radiating off of him fills the room in a creeping darkness.
He still mourns the hundred years of confinement. The loss of his most loyal friend. How could he not.
But you're there at his side and your words ground him while your touch gifts him a taste of what it would feel like to touch the clouds.
"My liege."
Gently you press your lips to his nose and let them linger for just a second to press your forehead to his. Only now does he close his eyes to see the stars shine behind his eyelids. And you're there with him, in a sea, an ocean of galaxies.
His hand subconsciously finds yours and it's so soft, you almost forget he has existed for eons. Three faint squeezes follow. A ritual the two of you have repeated for longer than you can remember. It's a promise, a vow saying all the things words will never be able to. Only now do the corners of his mouth lift, replacing the pout with another promise.
You can feel his other hand snaking to the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. He can never get you close enough. Morpheus is always on the brink of wanting to wrap a big warm blanket of dreams and fantasies around the both of you and never let you go again. Wanting to hide under it like little humans do in order to escape the waking or dreaming world and create their own.
And in this moment he is just that: a lovesick being with the childlike need to escape of this moment ever ending.
Firm and big is the hand on your back. You're encompassed by his entire aura, the low hum radiating in your own soul now. He's studying you again, his eyes observing every aspect of your face as if he's an artist looking at his muse in hopes of ever being able to capture your beauty. And yet, the Lord of Dreams thinks himself incapable of ever creating something as perfectly imperfect as you.
Eventually his eyes settle on your lips and you see the wanting like a dark cloud forming in his eyes. The hand that was holding yours moves up your arm towards your shoulder, raising goosebumps all over your body. His touch is enchanting, like he's leaving traces of yet unwritten creations behind. His warm hand lingers on your collarbone for a moment and then moves to cup your jaw with long fingers.
Right in this moment, Morpheus has the whole Universe under his fingertips. The Endless can feel your power just as much as you feel his. It's intoxicating. Addicting even. His lips part lightly and there is such craving and need behind those eyes, you feel you might return to dust under his gaze and touch at any moment.
Morpheus leans closer but not in one quick movement. He does it at such a torturous slow pace, it drives you absolutely insane.
Lips just barely hovering over each other you close the small gap with one last promise hanging from your lips: "my love," he eats it right up, inhales your words into his very being and leaves both of you starstruck. A melodic deep hum fills your mouth while your lips move against each other in a practiced dance.
Morpheus can almost taste the sweetness of the Universe on your lips. He kisses you like you have poetry and addiction in your bones, as if he is starved of your very being and will not survive without you at his side. The hand on your lower back is gripping and pushing you more tightly to him now and yet he has to pull away at last, his lips even more plump and pink than before.
His eyes glisten as he's looking into yours and you're not sure what exactly he's thinking of.
The corners of his mouth turn up once more, eyes even more droopy looking. He's nostalgic, part of him scared, terrified even of ever losing you.
"My muse."
His voice is raspy, that low hum ever present and you wish you could hide him from the world for forever.
"Only you, only ever you," he follows softly and it's said like a statement with the whisper of a vow behind it.
Next thing you know, his lips press against your forehead and linger just a second longer before he pulls you into him, wrapping his coat around the two of you. He still doesn't think you can ever be close enough to him, but this comes pretty close.
pairing: Dream/ Morpheus x gn!Reader (no 'y/n' used)
word count: 930
summary: 3 times you kiss him, 1 time he kisses you. [fluffiest fluff fluff + tiny bit of Jessamy reminiscence but dw, you're there to take care of Dream]
─── ☾ ────
"My lord."
your voice is a yearning whisper in his ears as your lips find his cheek. Your warm breath hits him and he is watching you closely, head tilted lightly with pursed lips.
The Lord of Dreams had seen beauty in all its forms but you...you have stardust in your eyes and the whole universe in your soul that made even the Moon blush.
A fallen star in the presence of an Endless being so enamored by you that he has sworn to breathe your name into the cosmos for the end of time.
He sighs in content, keeping his eyes on you and studying your every move. You're so soft in your movements, so graciously do your fingertips dance across his jaw, like the feathers of a raven. It forces his mind to briefly wander and you notice his head tilting down just the tiniest bit. The deep hum that is pure power radiating off of him fills the room in a creeping darkness.
He still mourns the hundred years of confinement. The loss of his most loyal friend. How could he not.
But you're there at his side and your words ground him while your touch gifts him a taste of what it would feel like to touch the clouds.
"My liege."
Gently you press your lips to his nose and let them linger for just a second to press your forehead to his. Only now does he close his eyes to see the stars shine behind his eyelids. And you're there with him, in a sea, an ocean of galaxies.
His hand subconsciously finds yours and it's so soft, you almost forget he has existed for eons. Three faint squeezes follow. A ritual the two of you have repeated for longer than you can remember. It's a promise, a vow saying all the things words will never be able to. Only now do the corners of his mouth lift, replacing the pout with another promise.
You can feel his other hand snaking to the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. He can never get you close enough. Morpheus is always on the brink of wanting to wrap a big warm blanket of dreams and fantasies around the both of you and never let you go again. Wanting to hide under it like little humans do in order to escape the waking or dreaming world and create their own.
And in this moment he is just that: a lovesick being with the childlike need to escape of this moment ever ending.
Firm and big is the hand on your back. You're encompassed by his entire aura, the low hum radiating in your own soul now. He's studying you again, his eyes observing every aspect of your face as if he's an artist looking at his muse in hopes of ever being able to capture your beauty. And yet, the Lord of Dreams thinks himself incapable of ever creating something as perfectly imperfect as you.
Eventually his eyes settle on your lips and you see the wanting like a dark cloud forming in his eyes. The hand that was holding yours moves up your arm towards your shoulder, raising goosebumps all over your body. His touch is enchanting, like he's leaving traces of yet unwritten creations behind. His warm hand lingers on your collarbone for a moment and then moves to cup your jaw with long fingers.
Right in this moment, Morpheus has the whole Universe under his fingertips. The Endless can feel your power just as much as you feel his. It's intoxicating. Addicting even. His lips part lightly and there is such craving and need behind those eyes, you feel you might return to dust under his gaze and touch at any moment.
Morpheus leans closer but not in one quick movement. He does it at such a torturous slow pace, it drives you absolutely insane.
Lips just barely hovering over each other you close the small gap with one last promise hanging from your lips: "my love," he eats it right up, inhales your words into his very being and leaves both of you starstruck. A melodic deep hum fills your mouth while your lips move against each other in a practiced dance.
Morpheus can almost taste the sweetness of the Universe on your lips. He kisses you like you have poetry and addiction in your bones, as if he is starved of your very being and will not survive without you at his side. The hand on your lower back is gripping and pressing you more tightly against him now and yet he has to pull away at last, his lips even more plump and pink than before.
His eyes glisten as he's looking into yours and you're not sure what exactly he's thinking of.
The corners of his mouth turn up once more, eyes even more droopy looking. He's nostalgic, part of him scared, terrified even of ever losing you.
"My muse."
His voice is raspy, that low hum ever present and you wish you could hide him from the world for forever.
"Only you, only ever you," he follows softly and it's said like a statement with the whisper of a vow behind it.
Next thing you know, his lips press against your forehead and linger just a second longer before he pulls you into him, wrapping his coat around the two of you. He still doesn't think you can ever be close enough to him, but this comes pretty close.
Summary: you've built quite a reputation for yourself with that handbag you always carry around. One day the Crows decide to take a look inside but that was your plan all along. Quite a Trickster you are.
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Kaz Brekker was always one step ahead, at all times. That scheming face of his came a long way, just not when it came to a certain someone's handbag.
He had tried on many occasions to discover its contents by simply observing.
taking a look inside would be overstepping.
But with each passing day of no success he grew more frustrated. There were simply too many questions and possibilities roaming through that genius brain of his and your luck with the cards made him question whether or not that handbag even helped you cheat.
The man had tried everything so far.
Asking Jesper to charm you into giving him a cue or even a look inside, even Inej had been persuaded to try her luck.
And though she wasn't very happy about taking a look into a ladies' possessions, her own curiosity had killed the cat eventually.
The three of them set up a bulletproof plan.
It should've been easy enough for the three Crows but the odds - or Saints as Inej had said - were once more working in your favor.
So the plan had failed due to you having Jesper wrapped around your little finger. Now you were stuck with a brooding Zemeni, an impressed Suli and an incredibly frustrated boy from the Barrel crowded around you as you sat in a chair, bag in your lap.
Kaz' rough voice cut through the silence, making a shiver run down your back.
maybe you had let this go on for a second too long and Dirtyhands would show you the true meaning behind his name.
"What do you keep in your handbag?"
Even that simple question sounded more like a command from his lips.
upset because he couldn't figure it out?
With hands still bound behind your back, you nodded towards the bag in your lap gesturing for him to take a look inside.
keeping up the mysterious act.
You could sense Jesper fidgeting to your left and a quick glance from Kaz told you HE would be the one taking a look inside.
You bit your lip, trying to keep from laughing out loud at the thought of what they were about to witness. Jesper was eager to finally solve the mystery and grabbed your bag in a swift motion, the excitement practically bubbling out of him. Inej kept close watch behind Kaz in anticipation, yet the man himself concealed his wonder perfectly.
Then finally, Jesper opened your handbag only to be greeted by a black liquid spilling on his face. Jesper's shriek filled the room as he dropped the bag to the floor. Now you really couldn't contain your laughter at the faces of the famous Crows. Inej seemed close to joining your laughing fit, Kaz just wore that scheming face of his, looking at your bag
And Jesper.... Jesper clawed at his face as if darkness had swallowed him whole, but the liquid simply wouldn't budge.
"Kaz do something!"
But Kaz just stared at you with an unreadable look that filled you with unease. Inej had made her way to Jesper and tried helping him clean off the liquid and you were breathing hard from all the laughing. The distraction helped you escape the bindings and as Kaz started staring into the distance you wondered if he had known all along.
"scheming face," Inej whispered to Jesper who still couldn't see anything.
You stretched out your arms over your head and nodded. "Definitely."
That had decided it.
The escape artist in possession of a handbag, filled with remnants of the fold had just passed the entrance exam with ease.
Drunk/ high Connor Murphy at a party would sit in a bathtub and talk about Van Gogh and his Depression with you, while analyzing if the man really committed or if he was actually killed.
That is all. There was no other reason to this ask than this headcannon that popped into my head and seeing you ask for more asks.
I said ask 3 times in one sentence. That's right
omg i love this. he totally 100% would. he would also follow it up with talking about other famous artists like emily dickinson or sylvia plath cause of how much he loves reading.
plus if he was high and you got him on a tangent, you're sitting there for at least 20 minutes.
also random thought but if a girl came in sick or crying i feel like he would be the guy to be like
"uhh shit, you can chill with us for a bit if ya want?" and then continue on his monologue
Summary: when you find yourself stuck in the afterlife you meet Connor Murphy, who's been here for longer than you have.
Warnings: some angst, reader has anxiety and other mental health issues, talking about weed and mentioning readers death briefly.
A/N: please do NOT romanticize death! You're needed and loved. If you need help, look at this post.
gif
To think you would be remembered as some "druggie who crashed their car" was beyond anything you could've imagined. Though it was incredibly thoughtless of you to drive back home after smoking weed with your friends.
Not that you would ever call yourself a "druggie". You knew what you were doing and the substance helped calm your anxiety and numbed you to the point of complete relaxation.
Only this time there was no way of getting home and no way of you crashing at your ex's place either. Not when he had female company and did the:
"I think we should call it a day",
with his hand gripping a girls' thigh tightly.
You had to get home somehow, so you got into your car and drove.
Only you never made it home.
Lesson learned.
For another time.
The "afterlife" or whatever you were stuck in was confusing. There is simply too much time to spend when you're there, but not really.
Thinking was about all you could do now.
Maybe this was your own little hell. You had spent days running after people, screaming at family, friends, anyone really. Yet, despite intense emotions following up with crashed mirrors and broken plates, your presence wasn't known to anyone.
You tried blaming the tree which you crashed into for it, but ended up leaning against it and watched the world continue on without you.
"This is my tree."
Furrowing your brows you looked to your right. The habit of thinking people are talking to you getting the best of you. Except this time there was someone staring right back at you.
Not through you, no. This guy was glaring at you, hands in his sweatshirt jacket pockets and foot tapping the grass impatiently.
You were up on your feet in an instant.
"You're dead too, aren't you?!"
You hadn't talked in forever so your voice made a terrible crack at the end, causing you to crunch your nose at yourself.
"You're sitting at my tree."
His demeanor didn't change, if your people skills didn't betray you, you would even say you had made him more frustrated. Who did he think he is?- Was?
Crossing your arms you replied in a mocking tone:
"Well, I'm sorry mr. Perfect but I died here, so I'm pretty sure this is my tree too."
He scoffed at that, a soft "fuck" leaving his lips as he brushed through his shoulder length hair with his right hand.
You started picking at the skin around your nails, a habit you hadn't even gotten rid of after your death.
The guy's gaze flickered to your hands briefly, before he sighed and walked up to you.
"Connor", his voice sounded less harsh than before. Right hand extended for you to shake.
It had been weeks since you last had any human contact and now here was - you had already forgotten his name again - willing to get to know you.
But when you went to shake his hand, you found yourself grasping at nothing but cold air.
"Guess you're new huh."
It was more of a statement than a question directed at you but you didn't really register his words.
You were staring at your hand, turning it over and tracing a wound from the accident with the fingers of your left hand.
Then you curled it into a fist, nails digging into the lifeless skin and sat back down with your back against the tree.
If it was possible, you felt even more numb and dead than before.
A cold breeze made the hairs on your arms stand as Connor sat down to your right with his hands in his lap and staring up at the sky.
"You're only able to touch others if you concentrate well enough."
You were still picking at your skin when he turned to you and put his hand on your arm.
The sensation made you suck in a breath and you looked up at him, relief evident on your face. His hand felt different on your skin than you had thought it to. There was a slight tingling sensation, like he was a vibrating ball of energy. Connor didn't feel dead at all. He felt more alive than anyone you had ever met before.
The corner of his mouth tugged up lightly at the sensation and your reaction to it. At least he was able to be helpful after his death.
He removed his hand from your arm and held it infront of you again like he did before. Knowing what he wanted you to do, you carefully slipped your hand into his now.
A huge grin forming on your face when you felt a new surge of energy course through your hand as it was firmly placed in his.
"Connor." , he nodded lightly, pushing a strand of hair out of his face in the process.
3 times you kiss him, 1 time he kisses you. [so much fluff.]
Six Of Crows
Crows x reader
"What do you keep in that handbag?"
you've built quite a reputation for yourself with that handbag you always carry around. One day the Crows decide to take a look inside but that was your plan all along. Quite a Trickster you are.
Dear Evan Hansen
Connor Murphy x reader
Stuck in between part1
when you find yourself stuck in the afterlife you meet Connor Murphy, who's been here for longer than you have.
Ragnarok (Netflix)
Magne Seier x reader
Return
In which you return to Edda and meet an old... friend.
Cookies and Thunder
In which you meet with Magne at his place and casually find yourself being able to lift Mjolnir.
In the Rain
Kissing Magne for the first time [fluff]
Video Imagine
Magne couldn't save you. [angst]
Please stay + "oh god, you're bleeding." [p26]
Soft Magne after losing his powers and a fight with Fjor. You're taking good care of him though. [angst, FLUFF]
Divergent
Peter Hayes x reader
Dauntless through and through + "you don't have to be gentle with me. I don't break easily." [p18]
In which you're a Dauntless born, ready to kick some ass.
Deadly Class
Marcus Arguello x reader
Peacekeeping + "you need to stop doing stupid shit like that or you will get yourself killed." [p30]
In which you're a peacekeeper monk and save Marcus from a beating by Chico.
{Deadly Class fic recs}
Cursed (Netflix)
Weeping monk x reader
The Siren Fey part 1
you're the newest Fey weapon of the church, but not for long. A first encounter with the weeping monk is quick to follow.
And- IDK IF IT'S OKAY TO WRITE THAT??? Like it's mostly wholesome with a tiny bit of angst. But I don't want to romanticize death (afterlife) or anything and I DO NOT want anyone to get triggered by it and actually harming themselves because "oh this sounds nice, I want this." AAAAA
Summary: you're the newest fey weapon of the church, but not for long. A first encounter with the weeping monk is quick to follow.
Prompt 36: "If people hadn't believed in Siren before, they sure as hell did now."
A/N: I'm not quite sure why this took me so incredibly long to write and it's not even finished yet. If anyone wants a part 2 lmk, I need the motivation to finish this (it's all planned already anyways).
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There was a new Fey in the paladin camp.
The rumors of you had spread rather quickly. Hushed voices daring to speak of the things you had done to your victims, the Paladins. The mere sight of you was said to enchant the finest of men but your voice; oh your voice was that of a Siren herself. If people hadn't believed in them before, they sure as hell did now.
"Let it be known my brothers: those who have succumbed to the beauty of the Siren, were meant to see the devil eye to eye all along."
And so when they had finally gotten their blood drenched hands on you, Father Carden made special use of you.
Rumors that you had bewitched even his finest weapon himself were spreading fast, yet quietly around camp.
Father Carden had done his best to keep you hidden from his Weeping Monk. The man knew that his favorite weapon was dammed and therefore didn't trust him to meet the Enchantress. Carden simply couldn't lose him. Not because he had grown too fond of him, but because he couldn't afford the price that came with it. The capitol would surely question Father and his loyalties, having let the Weeping Monk into such a high ranking position of right hand man. Yet again and again were you presented to his other untrustworthy paladins. A deadly sin to those who couldn't control their desires and fell to their cravings.
And you played your part exceedingly well. You knew how to entice them; knew exactly how to be of use to your fae sisters and brothers, even in captivity. More and more Paladins fell to their knees for you and were punished greatly for it.
This time a rather young Paladin had even helped you escape. With your feet sore from not moving in a long time, you didn't come very far before darkness crept up on you once more. This time in form of a tall hooded figure stalking towards you in graceful and calm movements.
It was like watching him dance as he reached for his dagger and cut his Brother's throat in one sharp motion. The methods of Brother Salt weren't something the Weeping Monk agreed with, so in his mind he had done his Brother a favor by freeing him of his sins right there. Kneeling down beside him, he cleaned his dagger on the Monk's red robe. His own grey hood casting a shadow over his face as he kept his eyes locked onto the dagger in his hand.
"It is a sin to look into the eyes of such demon. Do not disappoint me."
The words of Father ran through his mind, reminding him of the power you possessed. He knew he couldn't kill you, you were important to Carden and even he had heard the rumors of you. Or rather the screams. Carden had spoken so highly of you. He couldn't place the feeling he felt. Jealousy was a sin as he had read plenty of times before.
Stuck in thought, the rustling of leafs brought him back to reality. He could still smell you, sense your presence with every fiber of his being.
Carefully lifting his head from his crouched position, he couldn't see you anymore.
The adrenaline had taken over your mind as you tried your best to quickly get as far away from him as possible.
Father had spoken of him. He had called him his "greatest creation" but had denied you to ever lay your eyes on the man. Something you hadn't planned on doing any way. The Weeping Monk had taken lives of thousands of Fae kind. He was the worst of them all in your eyes. There was no humanity left in him that you believed you could bewitch. He was too far gone, so you did the only thing imaginable. You ran as fast your bruised feet could still carry you despite feeling incredibly guilty for the young Paladin you had left behind.
His mind wasn't clouded by the stories of the church yet. He hadn't wanted to fulfill his desires and step into a bed with you either. He had desired your safety and for that you would honor him greatly.
It must have been hours that you spent moving through the forest before the aching of your limbs began to become overwhelming.
Writers block is a bitch and life has been overwhelming to say the least.
I should really be trying to write for myself more than for others in the future; it tends to make me spiral into writers block.
On another note, I have finally finished watching Cursed on Netflix and some ideas I've had for Weeping Monk x Reader imagines kind of brought me out of my depressive episode LMAO so here we are
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