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Dreaming - Postman x Reader

ANOTHER REQUEST DONEEE LETS GOOO

requested by @astrialumi

sorry this lowkey isnt exactly what you wanted because i got halfway through writing it and then realized what it actually was

also sorry if this is doo doo caca weewiss :/

After being chased down by RIS a couple months ago, you managed to come to a deal, stay in the game with Postman so long as they gave you admin access to the game, allowing you to modify the game to your liking. The first thing you did was extend the bed for you and Postman to sleep together.

That was your favorite part of the day. Getting to curl up with him in bed, snuggle and joke, kissing while being all mushy and sappy. And eventually when the moon had been out for long enough, you two would fall asleep holding each other tight. And it was peaceful.

But tonight was different.

—

When you opened your eyes again, instead of being greeted with the familiar sight of your small home and Postman next to you in bed, you were met with the sight of Postman’s truck on its side with fire surrounding you.

“No… no no no! Not again… This already happened! This isn’t real! I know you’re messing with me! Get out of my head!” You shouted out to the digital sky, to a merciless god that wouldn’t seem to let you rest. The smell of smoke filled your nose and lungs, assaulting your senses as the fire continued to crackle. The sound of footsteps approaching cut through the silence like the sizzle of butter being dropped into a hot pan. You froze, head whipping around to find the source of the noise.

You coughed violently, eyes burning as that familiar brown scarf and jacket came into view. But something was wrong. You squinted your eyes and you could see something glinting in the dim light of the fire. Strings. Thin, white strings holding him up like a puppet.

“Player… what have you done…?” Postman choked out, voice quivering as he stared at you with misty eyes. “You’re going down a path you can’t escape from! You’re sacrificing my world for yourself!”

You stared dumbly at him, hands shaking as you slowly approached him with a pit in your stomach. “Postman wait-”

“No! You ruined everything! All you had to do was listen! Why won't you listen..?” His voice cracked as tears sting his dark eyes. He pointed the gun at you, gripping it until his knuckles turned white, shaking with adrenaline.

You raised your hands up as a show of compliance, despite the curling unease that had settled in your gut. Your face crumbled as he stared at you with a look of distrust and betrayal. “I’m listening now… We can just go back home and… Go stargazing again, yeah? I won’t let things get out of control, I won’t take the truck, and I won’t leave. I promise. You have my word.” Your voice was small, apologetic. You took another step, and then another, and another, and then you were within arms length of him. You silently reached up, holding his face with your hands and swiping away his tears with the pad of your thumb. You pressed your forehead against his, eyes closing with a small, trembling sigh.

“Let’s go home, Postman…”

And for a moment, everything was quiet. The crackle of the fire faded into the background and the sound of his breathing filled your ears, the familiar smell of ink and nutmeg drowned out the smoke. But there was a hint of sulfur and ozone hidden beneath it all. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t Postman. But it was too late.

“Pathetic.”

A sharp, agonizing pain exploded through your side as a dark, black spike pierced right through you, ripping the air from your lungs. The metallic tangy scent of blood filled your nose quickly, the warm sticky liquid gushing into the Earth. A quiet, strangled whimper clawed its way past your shaking lips as you crumpled to the ground, gasping weakly. You could barely move, blood slowly pooling beneath you as the fire continued to burn.

“Please… leave me alone…” You begged through choked gasps.

“It seems I overestimated you, Player.” Snarled that familiar, gravely voice, cutting through the deafening static that filled your ears. As you looked up, you felt a clawed hand curl around your neck, lifting you up like you weighed nothing. Black spots clouded your vision as you struggled feebly. Through your fading consciousness you could make out that horrifying grin that had plagued you for weeks, glowing white teeth that split across his face with hate filled eyes to match.

You reached your hands up, clawing at your throat for any respite as you gurgled up blood. All you could focus on was the hot stinging pain that flooded your senses. Your vision swam, arms falling limply to your sides.

“I spared you, and instead of continuing on your mission you run right back to the thing that held you back in the first place. You are a feeble minded sheep, folding at the first sign of danger.”

You just stare as the warmth slowly leaves your body, eyes fluttering shut. You tried to force your mind to think about anything else but all you could imagine was how you failed Postman. Who would keep him company? Who would he deliver packages to? You couldn’t leave him. But you didn’t have a choice anymore.

And then everything was quiet.

——

There was someone talking, albeit muffled but still, someone that wasn’t Smile. Someone shaking you awake, grasping your shoulders firmly, letting you know you were still alive.

You slowly came to, greeted with the sight of Postman hovering over you as he shook you violently.

“Player! Wake up!” He pleaded, slapping your cheek lightly to try and stir you from your sleep. “You’re having a nightmare!”

You bolt upright, gripping your sheets, feeling your torso as you panted, making sure everything was in the right place. There’s no way that was only a dream. It felt way too real, but there was no stab wound, there was no fire, no smoke, and you were still alive.

Reaching up, you touch your cheek. It was wet. Were you crying?

“Postman?” You croaked weakly, throat raw and hands trembling as you quickly threw yourself into his arms. He let out a small “Oof!”, wrapping his arms around your shaking frame, smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes.

You cling to him, clutching at his shirt so tight that crescent shaped indents begin to form in your palm. You just needed to hold him, to know that he was real, to know he was still alive. A sob bubbled up in your throat, needy and desperate, slipping past your lips as you curled yourself into a ball.

You felt pathetic.

“Player! Breathe! Breathe… It was just a dream. None of it was real. I’m here.” He soothed, voice low and steady, gently rubbing your back. He didn’t move, or shove you off despite the fact that his shirt was getting wet because of your crying. He took off his scarf, hand slipping under your chin to lift your head.

He wrapped it around your neck, the soft material instantly soothing your frazzled nerves as took in the familiar smell. Ink and nutmeg. No ozone or sulfur this time. Just the comforting scent of home.

“Do you wanna go make some hot cocoa and we watch some TV?” He asks in a hushed tone, as if he were afraid you would break.

You nodded wordlessly, sliding out of bed, a shiver going down your spine as your feet hit the cold floor. Shuffling over to the couch, you settle down with a pathetic sniffle, still tearing up a bit. You wrap your arms around yourself while staring blankly into the floor.

You could hear Postman moving around in the kitchen, the pots, wrappers, and cups reaching your ears. After a few minutes he walked to you, plopping down beside you and handing you your mug.

You lean your head onto his shoulder, eyelids growing heavy as you listened to the droning sound of the TV playing in the background, nuzzling your head into the scarf.

“Everything's gonna be okay, Player. Everything is gonna be okay.”

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