Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?
Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)
Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, gore, snake slander :(tell me if I miss any.
What overcame him can only be described as fury. Utter rage. As if he himself were not Dream but Destruction. Desire had not put the humans in danger, it is true that he was not stupid enough to do that. However, they did harm Cupid. There’d be no other explanation for his hollow puppet following after Dream.
Morpheus doesn’t see warm brown eyes staring back at him, but instead malicious glowing gold. Like a slithering snake watching his every move, deciding when to strike again. And he’s used Cupid’s body as the tall grass that he’s used to hide from Dream. Or rather, a second skin from which he can crawl inside and out when needed. Just another way to abuse her.
Dream’s pale hand wraps around the puppet’s neck. “Come out and face me, you unhuman abuser.” The creature’s expression changes to that sinister smirk that Desire has trademarked. She speaks but it is not her. It sounds painful. The voice sounds to be physically crawling with claws out of her throat. “You know where to find me.”
The puppet does what puppets do when their master lets go of their strings, she falls limp, then disappears. The dream-maker curses and within seconds steps into his gallery hall. He grabs the heart of Desire and his boots hit the red glass walls of Desire’s realm.
“What did you do with her?” His voice is rough and his jaw is locked. “She is my creature you cannot have her.” The younger brother snipes with a pained attitude, clearly displeased with his older brother catching him in his shenanigans. “She is not something to be owned.” The rougher voice replies just as quickly.
Desire’s lip is raised in disgust. He sits upright on his throne, crossing his legs and leaning forward. “I breathed life into her flesh, I can take it away just as easily. That makes her mine to own.” Dream steps forward. “Perhaps. But it is awfully cruel to keep Love from loving merely because the free will you gave her is awakening.”
Desire scoffs, “This is not love this is desperation. She’s nothing but a pet, I made her to be used.” This ticks Dream off. He does he same as he had with the marionette, grabs Desire right by the neck, threatening his life. “I will summon every nightmare that I have ever made and ever will make to haunt every frame that your eyes show you. You think that Endless do not too have dreams? I see, do not think I do not.”
Desire clenches his jaw. He knows that Dream speaks the truth and anything Dream can conjure would be 100 times more terrifying than he could. They swallow, their eyes look for a way out but can’t find one. “She’s in Despair’s realm. I don’t know where.” Dream doesn’t say anything, just squeezes Desire’s neck tighter. “I don’t know where! I don’t know what despair she has, I gave her the perfect life!”
Within those words Dream knows what haunts Cupid. He remembers the horror in her eyes and the way the blood dripped to the floor like sticky syrup. The way it coated her golden hair, making look like wet copper, a rusty pipe. Most of all he remembers how she wailed in despair.
She can’t escape it. She can’t escape this nightmare. Each time she tries to stop it from happening, it does happen. No matter what she does or doesn’t do. The heart always ends up beating in her hands. She holds the soul of the lover pumping blood until it shrivelled up and grey in her arms.
At this point, she’s given in. She sits on the floor in the corner of the room it all happened in. Even when she does this, the organ still ends up pouring her hands with blood. The tears she cried at first matched this boundless drip but now it has ended and there is nothing left in her soul. Only the fear she has for herself and just how cruel she has become.
“Cupid.” She doesn’t hear. All she hears is the man that at no time has ever stopped crying. Grabbing at his chest as he dies of a broken heart. That and that pump-pump-pump as the cardio vascular muscles pull and contract trying to save a person who stands no chance.
“Cupid!” In between the gasps of a dead man and the point where all blood drains she hears it. Him. Has he come to fulfil his promise of finding her? Of saving her? Why did it take so long? Why did she have to break this poor soul’s heart over a million times before he found her?
“Cupid!” Her gaze snaps. It is him. The scene restarts again. The man’s crying starts again. No, no, she can’t do this again if there is some glimmer of an escape. Her head finally raises from the position it’s been locked in for all this time. “Call again.” Her voice is rare but the other one isn’t.
“Cupid!” There it is! A mirror in the corner of the room that ripples when the voice calls out. She lifts herself. Her knees crack as she does and her legs have long since gone into pins and needles. But anything is better than that blood curdling scream that comes now. She jumps, she jumps every time. The heart shows in her hands again and again she wants to stop and cry.
“Cupid!” She mustn't become distracted, this is her only chance! She must come to him herself or else she can never escape this hell. She places the heart down, the man cries even louder at this. She flinches but in her last moment of strength ignores his pleas for her to stay and comfort him. She’s tried that before.
Her hand, smeared red with blood, reaches to the mirror and then through the mirror. She feels a soft hand, a cold one, a pleasant change from the burning blood bound to her hands. A gasp of relief escapes her and she steps closer. She can just barely make out his face and those glowing blue eyes.
“Come to me, Cupid. I have found you.”
With one step through the glassy mirror, relief falls on her shoulders. More like tumbles down. Peace comes within the instant. And suddenly she can breathe again. Glades upon glades of ceaseless flowers that jump and dance in the wind and the sun and the colours that plummet from their petals.
The mountains too are painted in vibrant images of a thousand hues. The suns first early rays comes from the right and cast a shadow behind her. Bees and birds and butterflies bound from beautiful buttercups. What looks to be fairies, made from which she is, tend to the flower field.
The hand that holds hers helps her as she hunches down in the hibiscus flowers. The tule of her dress surrounds her in a image of a flower’s petals spreading in the face of the early mornings rays. Her hair seems to match the colour of sunshine and Dream can hear his own heart beat in his ears.
“You made this for me?” Her eyes, this time like hot honey on his tongue, look up to him. She squints against the sun shining down on her. Her button nose scrunches up as she does. A coy smile shows his white teeth against those pale lips.
“I did not.” Her brows furrow, “Then who did?” He tilts his head to the side, the sunrays hit her eyes again, he notices and moves back. “You did.” Cupid turns back to face the flower meadow. “Me?” He nods, allowing her to think. “You started out as something merely made by Desire...but it seems your affect on the humans has made you into something more...”
His blue eyes don’t seem to match the blue sky and it’s all she can think about. “This would be your realm.” He explains to her, he can’t seem to look away. It’s strange, a pout forms on her lips. It runs over Dream like a crashing wave you cannot run form. He cannot stop when he is already crouched down beside her and his thumb pulls on her bottom lip.
“Why the frown?” Her cheeks match the colour of a dusty rose. She takes her head back from his grasp and her eyes scan the scene. “I was hoping there’d be someone to talk to.” Dream feels his heart soften like wet clay. His knees give in and he sits down next to her in the flower bed.
“You are lonely?” Her small hands takes the delicate petals of a flower between her fingers. “I’ve only ever talked to Desire.” Dream scoffs at this. “That is sure to cause a lonely heart for his company is only about themself.” He stands out in the colourful field. “You could make some company.”
Dream suggests and her brows pull together. The Endless gently plucks the flower she holds from her hands. He seems to summon a bundle of sand which so carefully trickles onto the flower. The daisy sprouts eyes and appendages and a mouth. It’s eyes look all around before settling on Cupid.
“Hello.” Love smiles and brushes the petals again. “Hello. Go, play.” She says, letting the now mortal flower jump around in the meadow. “Thank you, but I was hoping something with more substantial consciousness.” Now it is Dreams turn to furrow his brows.
“I could give you the gift of choice. To chose when the humans can see you and when they cannot, just as I come and go.” He suggests to her, wanting to do almost anything to keep her happy. “You just saved me from eternal hell and now wish to gift me more?” She is unused to people being kind.
“If it sets your heart at ease we could call it an exchange.” Her eyes jump from his eyes to her sharp jaw and then back. It’s hard to keep focus when he’s not looked away from her once. “What for?” Dreams allows the arrow to appear in his hands and then places it in hers.
She smiles now at the sight of the arrow. “What would you like me to do with this?” She asks, her eyes reading the names over and over again. Dream smiles, “Is it our names written?” He asks her, his eyes only hold softness, no anger.
Cupid nods, not trusting her voice. “I’d like for you to keep it. And only when you feel the statement is correct may you pierce our hearts with it.” Suddenly tears pool in her eyes and she shudders trying not to cry.
A choice. He’s given himself the chance to earn her love. He’s given her the choice to love him or not. Her first choice ever and it seems it will be the most important one she’ll ever make.
Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)
Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, angst :(tell me if I miss any.
The plane engine is loud in Lyta’s ears, but luckily everyone else is quiet, sleeping, trying to adjust to the difference in air pressure. Lyta doesn’t care, she’s too happy to turn her head to the side and smile, seeing her husband. “Maybe a trip to England is exactly what she needs.” His voice is just like she remembers. Even the way he speaks is the same.
“She's sleeping. So, that's progress.” His brows furrow in the way Lyta’s made sure to memorise. “She hasn't been sleeping?” He cares so much, he cared so much. “No.” She sighs, her eyes fluttering, trying to keep him here as long as possible. Her heart fighting her mind.
“She's been dealing with her mom's estate, trying to find her brother. Doing whatever she has to do to keep from thinking about the fact that she's all alone now.” He lifts his head looking at the sleeping girl, who’s been struggling to let go just as much as Lyta.
He’s quick to disagree with her. “She’s not though.” Lyta tilts her head to the side, giving her husband a pointed look. “No, I know. And friends are great, but, uh…” She fumbles with her hands trying to explain what she means. As if interrupting her own ideal imagination.
“What?” Her eyes fall to her hands, his tongue wetting his lips from the dry aeroplane air. “When you lose your parents, you suddenly realize it wasn't gravity keeping you on the ground all this time. It was knowing you were someone's daughter. Or sister. Or wife, in my case.”
Lyta’s eyes snap to him, and suddenly the hurt is there again. She’s not his anymore. She’s not for anyone anymore. Friends aren’t forever like being someone’s everything. A friend always has an in-between plan that suddenly comes before you that lets you know forever is a lie. Hector feels the hurt then again too. He knows it wasn’t his choice, but he can’t help but apologise.
“How are you? Are you okay?” Lyta chuckles at that question, her hands running through her hair. “Probably not.” Then Hector has to realise, he can’t be here. He can’t be talking to her. He can’t let her know that she’ll always be his. “Why do you say that?” The panic is like a piano in a heavy metal song.
Then there it is for her too. The synth wave in this classical music dream that she’s concocted for herself. The hitch in her throat, the barbed wire that stops her from allowing the truth inside her. “Cause instead of being back at work, I'm on a plane to London, talking to my dead husband.”
“Ma’am, ma’am?” It’s gone. It’s replaced by the sight of a girl who looks to be on the younger side by the way her cheeks round and her eyes sparkle. “I’m so sorry to bother you.” Her voice too, it matches her glittering apologetic smile beautifully. Her eyes focus, the overhead lights make her look like an angel looking down at her.
She doesn’t stop smiling, trying to seem as approachable as possible. Her heart is fluttering with excitement, seeing Lyta finally able to see her. “Um, some guy just puked on my seat while I went to the bathroom...And, I feel so horrible to ask...”
Then, the beautiful young girl looks at the seat next to Lyta. But, not at the seat. At the person Lyta just dreamt of sitting there. “Would you mind if I sat next to you, while they clean my seat?” As if she’s asking him and not her and Lyta feels like she’s going crazy. How could this stranger possibly be asking her ghost husband anything?
But it looks so real. She smiles like she’s thanking someone without words and then eyes like the gold of her wedding ring fall back on her. And Lyta feels her heart palpitate in a way that someone her age shouldn’t. She sits upright and nods, “Yeah, yeah, sure, of course.” She mutters, stumbling over her words as she climbs out of the trance.
“Thank you, thank you so much.” The young girl sits down to Lyta. She gets comfortable, sighing just like she’s seen the humans do. “I’ve never been on a plane before.” Lyta can’t help but furrow her brows at the wording but she doesn’t say anything about it. Maybe English isn’t her first language.
“I won’t bother you, you can sleep.” It feels wrong and rude to sleep now. And something in Lyta so badly wants to talk with the girl some more. “No, no, it’s alright. So uh, London, what’s calling you there?” Lyta asks the first thing she can think of. The girl presses her lips together before she answers, clearly having to think about it.
“Let’s say I’m meeting a new friend. And you?” Lyta looks over the girl to Rose who’s sleeping in her plane seat. “My friend, she’s looking for her little brother who went missing. I thought I could help.” The girl’s eyes go sympathetic, but there’s just something all-knowing behind them.
She smiles, looks at Rose and then back to Lyta. “Oh, that’s beautiful.” Her eyes flick to the ring on Lyta’s finger. “You’re married?” She asks, but not in the way where she wants to know but as if she already does. “I was...my husband passed.”
The girl, once again as if she already knew this. “It’s hard for the living to stop loving the dead. The humans love the hardest when they know they have to let go...” Again the girl tilts her head. But this time she smiles, like she’s making Lyta realise something. “But you don’t let go...I’m worried about your heart.”
It should be the ramblings of a crazy woman, but it isn’t because she’s right. Lyta just doesn’t let go. She sees him when she sleeps when she opens her eyes. Cupid’s seen this happen to so many lovers before and it always ends in their heart being damaged. But now...now she can warn them. She can talk to them.
“It’s going to hurt. But it’s going to leave a scar if you hold on.” Lyta just sits there staring at her. It’s like a profit speaking to her. Others have told her this before but she just doesn’t want to believe it. The way she speaks, the wisdom behind her eyes, the way she knows without knowing her...
It feels too real. It feels hard to breathe in and even harder to breathe out. To let the air escape her because that’s all she’ll have left of this beautiful stranger who speaks to her heart. It feels like it’s exploding and her lungs are so full. Her gasps for air, force the tears from her eyes.
Lyta shakes her head. “I can’t.” She wants to beg the stranger. Don’t make her forget. Don’t make her lose him again. But, what does this stranger have to do with her dead husband? “Did you...lose your partner too? You speak like you know.”
She chuckles, wiping the tears from her cheek. “No, no. I’ve just seen it happen each time. It hurts me like it does you.” Is this beautiful stranger crying too? Crying with her? Crying for her? Crying because she has to, she has to cry because Lyta is hurt.
They both just laugh, how silly. Crying with a stranger over nothing and everything on a plane full of sleeping people. Lyta wipes her tears off, again with another chuckle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” The girl shakes her head as if she’s apologising. “I have to go.”
“Lyta. Let go.”
The sun shines down on Cupid’s back as she lounges on the beach in her bikini. She knows she should be busy, but it’s just such a lovely day out. And she is where she’s supposed to be. Following the one she worries about most. And she can’t find herself to worry about much else.
She used the realm Dream gifted her, to make herself a few helpers. Not many. Just enough to carry out the minor tasks while she’s away. She won’t let them handle the soulmates, that’s too precious. But for now, her duties should be covered.
But she can feel her as soon as she walks on the beach. She lowers her sunglasses to get a good look. An excited smile plays on her face. A friend of a friend. She’s quick to jump up, just as quick back in her normal puffy pink dress. No reaction from the humans, they can’t see.
Her eyes follow Rose Walker like a hawk, who leaves her darkly dressed friend on the beach. She follows after, using her abilities to not struggle through the sand in her usual white boots. The girl bends over to talk with a bird. No one else seems to notice this. But someone else does seem to notice her, more someones than she knows...
“Why are you talking to a bird?” She’s just a bit shorter than Rose Walker, even with her shoes. The girl is startled, quickly trying to cover. Cupid knows well that humans cannot talk to animals. “I-I, I wasn’t.” She furrows her brows, her bottom lip jutting out. “Yes, yes you were.” She tilts her head, looking down at Matthew. “That one.”
Matthew recognises the girl instantly. He wants to speak, to call out to her and ask for help but his master holds his beak. Dream’s mind is already brewing with possibilities and plans. "Who are you?” Rose asks, realising that while she is breathtaking, she is a stranger. She holds out her hand, “I’m a friend of Lyta’s. We met on the plane.”
Rose’s face seems to light up in recognition. “You’re real...?” Cupid’s heart beats in panic at the thought of being caught. No humans have ever seen her knowing who she is. And these two are the first she decided to talk to. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Rose just can’t stop staring.
The light from the sunshine day falls on her making her look like that painting of the birth of Venus is talking to her in person. “I mean...you’re just so...” She can’t quite find the words. It’s like in the movies where the main character always has wind gently caressing their hair.
From the very deep depths of Cupid’s mind like an old church bell that’s been hit for the first time in a hundred years, she hears his voice. Rough and deep and everywhere in her mind. “Cupid.” It’s like the first time he heard him speak to her. She’s jarred and it looks like she’s been knocked off balance.
“Woah, are you alright?” Rose asks, instinctively reaching out to grab her, but Cupid is quick to catch herself. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. I’m suddenly just a bit dizzy.” She mutters, holding her head, trying to play it cool. Matthew watches, his head tilted. “I think, I should go home, have a lie down.” She mutters, beginning to walk off in any distance that will hide her from Rose quick enough.
Matthew thinks on his feet, or talons. “Morpheus will be there tonight.” Rose nods then makes her way back to Hal and Matthew to find Cupid. “Are you alright? What happened?” She’s leaning against a corner, still shaken by the sudden intrusion in her mind. How did he do that?
“He called my name. I felt him almost in my mind.” The raven jumps around a bit. It’s like Dream is leaning over his eyes. Ready to crawl up his throat and talk to her himself. “Come, I’ll accompany you to him. I think the boss wants to see you.”
