' .

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬.

⊹ pairing: the corinthian x reader

⊹ summary: how your favourite nightmare loves. this is a slightly dark version, as the corinthian is a nightmare. you don't expect someone like him to love someone in a good, pure way, do you?

⊹ warnings: descriptions of violence (eyeball popping), borderline nsfw (in par with his character since his only scenes are either being a serial killer or serial fucker)

⊹ word count: 3193

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 with a voice that oozes charisma and is thick and sweet like honey, (makes you want to open your mouth to him), you bet words will be the love language he uses in abundance. but is he talking to you sweetly or manipulating you? does it really matter?

morpheus seems to have given the corinthian the verbal skills he himself lacks

this nightmare is a talker. as you can see by how hooked everyone is on his words, from little jed, naive rose, and by inspiring a cult of serial killers, this man knows how to use his looks and his words to get people to do what he wants: to trust him

but the first time he meets you, he is speechless

the person he's talking to and who he was going to kill later that evening, is forgotten as he's too struck to do anything else but look at you curiously. your eyes meet across the room, and the room goes in a bit of a haze as all he can see is you.

obsessed with you immediately, and he doesn't even know why (guess he takes after his creator in having intense, all-consuming relationships)

approaches you and talks to you immediately. in minutes, has your back against a wall, his body covering yours from others and has your attention the entire night. has one hand on the wall beside your head

stands close enough that you can smell his aftershave and woodsy cologne

he has never lathered on as much sweet talk to a person as he did that night to you

by the end of the night, you are as consumed by him as he is by you

he loves to talk to you. domestic bliss with him is him telling you all about his day—the weather, the news, what he had for lunch

abundance of pet names, but mostly sweetheart, baby, and a little darling—all said with that slowed, drawl of his that just hearing is enough to make you tense and your breath hitch

enter: praise talk (is this still sfw?)

he'll praise you for every single thing you do, and make it sound like you did it for him. after awhile, you get used to his praises and get hooked on it. you start doing things just to hear him praise you, and don't you worry, he will

he does this thing where he watches you from the side as you do something, then he'll praise you

"i see you for who you truly are." (did i just take out of context the quote he said to serial killers? yes)

builds up your self confidence with an onslaught of compliments and praise

"you look beautiful, darling."

"with that on, everyone in the room will be staring at you and grow envious of me for being with you."

never lets you doubt yourself and your abilities for one second

is actually quite encouraging for whatever your aspirations are. who is he to judge, after all?

the first time you try to take someone's eyeballs, he's standing off to the side, leaning cooly against the wall, his tongue running over his lips from how dry they've become at watching the person he loves doing something he loves. but taking eyeballs is careful work, and you fail. the nerve snaps in half

at the first dismayed sound you release, he's by your side immediately and cupping your face, murmuring reassurances that you did so well for the first time and he's so proud of you

he shows you how proud by taking your hand and placing it over the tent in his pants

the first time you successfully take someone's eyeballs, his praises are said with a voice low and from the back of his throat

"well done, sweetheart."

"you did so good, baby. so good."

he moves in front of you and takes the eyeballs from your hand, but you move your hand away. he's confused at first, but then you raise your other hand towards his shades and remove them—all while looking at him with innocent eyes that have become slightly hooded with lust and adrenaline

he drops to a fucking knee and tilts his head up at you. he looks at you reverently, like you are the only higher being he'd submit to. he holds onto your wrist, more to steady himself than control you, as you bring the eyeball to one of his eyes (or is it still called mouths?), never breaking eye contact all the while

and when he's done, and you kiss away the blood that escapes down his cheek, he rises and kisses you hard and leaving you with no sense of direction but him, him, him

𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 the corinthian has always been demanding with your time, but after morpheus is released, he starts bringing you everywhere you go. he doesn't know if it's to keep you safe so morpheus can't take you from him, or him just wanting to spend as much fleeting time as he can with you.

the two of you are stuck to the hip, and it's not you being clingy, but him, not that he'd ever admit it

it's him who insists that he go everywhere with you in case something bad happens?

corruption kink

you're definitely innocent the first time he meets you. but there's something in your eyes that's not quite...right. you're innocent but accepting. too accepting. meaning you'll see a person commit the most atrocious act and still somehow understand them. empathize with them

it turns him on, not gonna lie

takes you with him on his kills

the first time he does, it's a test to see if you'll scream and run away and he has to take your eyeballs

you don't and pass his test

the next few times, you don't do anything. you just stand or sit to the side while he does his usual thing at the office

but one day, he sees it. a glint of interest in your eye. the tilt of your head that tells him you're interested in whatever you're watching and trying to memorize it.

he confirms his suspicions when he beckons you to come over to him with a tilt of his head. he nearly forgets to kill his victim as he's too busy kissing you against the wall

from then on, you alternate

while killing them is more satisfying to him, it's the way you feed him afterwards that makes him willing to let you kill since that intimacy always brings him to his knees

but during off hours when you're both not being an infamous serial killer couple, you both like to sightsee

the corinthian has been to a lot of places in the past hundred years, and has grown to like travelling just so he can experience many countries'…delicacies

you accompany him as you fly business class everywhere. coliseum in rome. great wall of chine. northern lights in iceland

he's also a surprisingly good babysitter

exhibit a: that episode with jed (yes, he was lowkey kidnapping him), showed that he's good at handling them. (he teased jed if he wanted to drive and kept him safe from that one serial killer)

so when the time comes that you ask him to babysit someone with you, he's actually quite good

the kids like and trust him immediately

seeing you with them could give you baby fever, and the smirk on his face tells you he knows what he's doing

he's that cool, laidback dad who lets you do things the other parent doesn't as long as you keep your mouth shut for it

(why am i alternating between nsfw headcanons and dad headcanons?)

𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 did you see how firm yet gentle he was with the people he hooked up with? this nightmare will caress you too ruin

caress

that's the only appropriate word to describe how this man touches you. the brush of his knuckles against your cheek while you sit on the edge of the bed while he stands in between your legs

sometimes closes your eyes with the pad of his thumb and gently rubs it

some couples get kisses on the cheek or the forehead

you get them on your eyes

he'll gently close them with the paid of his thumb and rub it slightly. then he presses a soft, lingering kiss against that soft, fragile skin that protects the organ he loves the most

has a thing for pushing you against objects when kissing you (exhibit b: pushes roommate-lover against bed, pushes fake serial killer-lover against wall)

shoves you on the bed before getting on top of you

pushes you against a wall, hands cupping both sides of your face, forcing you to stay still as he kisses his way with you

grows aware that you need oxygen to breathe but he needs your kisses more than you need that

the first time you remove his glasses, he's surprised at how intimate that is, and how he falters at your touch. the first time you do it is also the first time he realizes that his emotions for you surpass lust and he might actually love you—whatever that entails

and when this does happen, he just gets so much more protective of you

and possessive

in public, hand always on your waist

kisses you (with tongue and lip biting) for the entire world and their mother to see

might even kiss you in front of morpheus to show off to his maker what he has and what morpheus doesn't

even with shades on, there's still intense eye contact

it's the way his entire body faces you

does this thing where he stands behind you, his chest warm and flush against your back. crooks a finger around your hair to brush it back, then hovers his lips right next to your ear so you can feel his whispers and it makes you shiver. he then presses a kiss to your neck, as if he's pleased with the reaction he's elicited from you

you know that couple thing where the boy will stand behind a girl and put his hands over hers as he teaches her how to play golf, or do billiards, or during pottery? that's him when teaching you the proper way to pop out an eyeball

his calloused hands wrapping over your soft hands around the hard handle of a knife

that same hand trailing up your arm, down the side of your chest, brushing your waist, then coming to a rest on your hip as he grips you slightly while bending you over

the protectiveness that grows after morpheus is freed, is also laced with a desperation to stay with you

on one hand, he holds out hope that he'll stop morpheus from taking him so he can stay with you. on the other hand, there's a feeling of inevitability and he can feel himself running out of time with you

he becomes softer but firmer with you

each kiss lasting longer than the last

starts to savour you. whispers his last prayers against your skin. draws his apologies on your arms

he stares at you more often, as if trying to commit your face to memory because if he is unmade, it could be centuries that have passed before he is made again. he doesn't know if he'll retain memories of you, but either way, you'll be long gone

and when the time comes that morpheus catches up to him and he is unmade, morpheus is able to feel the genuine love the corinthian had for you

because the corinthian didn't want you to stay with him, but him to stay with you

you become the corinthian's sole redeeming quality, and as you wail and plead against morpheus' coat to bring him back or to unmake you too, morpheus takes pity and grant your wish: which one is up to you to decide

𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 what else do you expect a serial killer nightmare to do for the person he loves? kill for them, of course. scaring others is what he was made for anyways

the first time you tell him someone's been giving you some trouble at school or at work, that someone ends up dead with their eyeballs taken out

the corinthian takes you out for dinner in a restaurant directly in front of that someone's apartment. as you eat dinner in front of a window, rather than be engrossed in the flickering candlelights, you focus on the blue and red lights of the police cars and hear the ambulance sirens as they load the dead body up to an ambulance that's heading straight to the morgue

happens every time you tell him about someone giving you trouble, even if it was just them cutting in line by accident. sometimes, he tells you what he did to them. other times, he doesn't

it's no problem to him, really. think of it as you packing him a little...snack

given that he bleeds charisma, parties are a regular occurrence for both of you

he makes you be his plus one to the parties he's invited to, and when you're invited to go to a party, he expects you to ask him to be your plus one as well

always has a hand around your waist during these events

kisses your cheek occasionally

if you're wearing lipstick and you leave a kiss mark against the bottom of his jaw, he won't wipe it away

might even intentionally move his head to the side to expose it, like it's a badge of honour

apart from killing others though, i don't think he'd go out of his way to do much else for you. at least, domestic things.

why would you need to cook if he can just hire a maid? folding laundry? maid. walking the dog? hires someone

but the one thing he always makes sure you do is eat (exhibit c: he asks jed if he wants more ice cream)

whether it's because you're so accepting of his diet or just because he puts a lot importance in eating, meals are the one thing he always looks out that you do correctly

and it's not just ensuring you eat three meals a day

but eating three healthy meals

he cooks for you—whatever you want. hell, he even learns to cook for you. it's the one thing he doesn't hire a maid for

you feed him, he feeds you mindset

always orders more of his meal because he knows you like to take some of his

unless you have a good, healthy reason for going on a diet, he won't entertain it

ice cream after dinner is a must

has your coffee order memorized, and you can trust him to order ahead at a restaurant

always drives you everywhere with a hand on your thigh that slowly creeps up

gives you his suit jacket when he's cold—and that's how you know it's true love

but the biggest act of service he does for you is not bring you to the cereal convention

it's not about not wanting to expose you to serial killers, but rather morpheus

though he hopes that he might walk out, on the event that he doesn't, he breaks his need to bring you everywhere and keep you at home

all so you don't see him be unmade, as he fears it will break you

and it would have

his last act of love to you

𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 have you seen the expensive suits he always wears? this man lavishes himself and his serial killer lifestyle, so he'll do the same for you

like his creator, this man is a giver. it might be one of the things morpheus put from himself in him

if he can dress in an expensive suit everyday all while maintaining its pristine state given his...lifestyle, then he expects the same from you too

introducing: matching outfits

you wouldn't think he's one for it, but he is. maybe not identical, but in a cool, stylish way that makes it clear the two of you are meant to be seen together and as one

suits or dresses that compliments his outfits

and it's not you matching to him, but the other way

he wants to match with you

he always waits for you to get ready and pick out an outfit first before going through his closet and finds a suit that matches

and jewellery

he strikes me as someone who wants to give his partner jewellery for them to wear—his way of marking them, so make sure to always wear one

necklace (choker), anklet, belt, hair accessory, ring

always watches you put it on. he likes its when he's the one putting it on, but falls to his knees (is his knees okay?) when you ask him to help you put it on

you need help putting your necklace on? turn around and he'll brush a finger down the nape of your neck, enjoying the way you shiver, as he clasps the necklace and places a kiss where the metal and your skin meets

might even leave a hickey

and if you wear socks or stockings, he'll drop to his knees (there he goes again) and slowly rolling the fabric up your legs, going higher and higher. kisses your inner things while he's there. his hands keeps climbing and climbing until his hand reaches your—

ahem.

black card user

"you want to go shopping? take my card, baby."

when the bill goes to his phone for what you bought, he sends you a text praising you for using it and says he can't wait to see you try it on

and if it's lingerie, he might ask for a photo and tell you to come home so he can see and take it off—

sets aside a trust for you

you get to take advantage of his lavish lifestyle. you don't really own a home, but instead live out for a few months at a time in various five star hotels before moving on

and if you do bring up settling down, he'll just smile at you and explain patiently why he can't settle down and why he wouldn't be able to bear being so far away from you for such long periods of time.

"i can't live that far from you, baby. can you live without me for that long?"

and how can you argue with that logic?

so you stay with him. and he gives you presents to praise your "choice"

yes, he loves to give you gifts. but more important, he wants you to love them

he likes seeing the special containers you put the jewellery he gifts you in and how you handle them so carefully, as if treating them as an extension of him and his love for you

and when you lose him, they are all that remains of him

and perhaps morpheus takes pity on you as he sees the genuine love you have for him

he uses his sand to recreate a better version of the corinthian using one of the objects he gave you

then maybe it's your turn to corrupt this new corinthian to change him back into the version you know and love

and that's okay

in conclusion, while i might not have been in love with mr. mouths-for-eyes, writing this headcanon and witnessing my eventual failure from keeping sfw might have changed my mind. he does, after all, have a very nice voice...

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁-𝖾𝗒𝖾𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈? 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈u𝗍𝗁𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌? 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌? 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽.

𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇'𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌'? 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗌? 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇, 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌' 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾. 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗒—

𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌: 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘶𝘴' 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘶𝘴' 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @aurorarevenclaw1927, @juniebugg

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟.

𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴!

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄.

[a] — angst

[f] — fluff

[s] — smut

more specific trigger warnings will be seen in the fic!

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜. — [ 𝐚 ] >>> recently released

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓…𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏!

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.

ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

…𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐁𝐅 / 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀!𝐁𝐅

𝖼𝖾𝗈/𝗆𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺!𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗑 𝗃𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 !

…𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄!𝐁𝐅

collegestudent!jungkook x collegestudent!reader

𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 !

…𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋!𝐁𝐅

𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅!𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗑 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜. — [𝐟]

𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐋 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐢.

⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader

⊹ summary: you encounter a strange string of coincidences in the forms of old friends

⊹ tags: violence, you don't do well coping with being separated from your husband either, more longing but from reader's perspective this time, established relationship

⊹ warnings: violence, cursing, spoilers for 1.09

⊹ word count: 2671

⊹ previous part: part i.

⊹ up next: part iii

⊹ now playing: thoughts by faime

𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠, 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎

You wouldn't think a bathroom stop counts as you stopping from running, but the bounty says otherwise.

Your pants are barely up after having taken a piss when the door is kicked open and a hand clutches around your throat. You cry out in pain as your head is slammed against the mirror, carving cracks into the glass. Large fragments break off and fall into the sink next to you, but the piece is just out of reach.

You gasp desperately as you dig your nails into the hunter's hands, but the hunter — a man in his mid forties who you've already narrowly escaped from twice before — learned his lesson from his last attempt and now wears gloves and earmuffs.

You manage to kick his knee, forcing him away from you. But freedom lasts only for a few seconds, and despite your attempt at running away, he grabs your hair and yanks to the floor. He straddles you as he resumes his grip back on your neck, this time with both hands squeezing tight enough that you know it’ll be hard for you to talk for a day or two.

"Bounty...needed...alive..." you choke out.

The hunter scoffs and leans closer to you. "I wanted that bounty the first time I tracked you. Now, this is personal." His grip tightens, and black dots swarm your vision and block him out so all you can hear is his voice in your ear and the stench of cigarettes and bloody. "You hurt my pride, lady Y/N."

Pride. The downfall of all men.

Though the situation doesn't warrant the memory, thoughts of your husband flood you anyways. Perhaps it's because he's always in your thoughts. Or perhaps he's chosen to make this appearance to give you solace from the pain as you black out. For when you open your eyes, you aren't in the dingy gas station bathroom anymore, but a green meadow with trees around and flowers blooming throughout.

Just because you're untouched by Death doesn't mean your memories throughout are vivid or intact. But you remember everything about that day, from the smell in the air — crisp, clean summer air with a fresh breeze that brings around the smell of petals — to the touch of the sun's warmth and your soft, chiffon wedding dress against your skin.

Unlike a dream, you aren't in control. Your body moves according to the memory. You move down the aisle between the three or four rows of seats. At the end of the aisle is a large willow tree, its branches drooping over a white arch where Lucienne stands. She bids you a small smile, which you return with your own, before your eyes shift to him.

Like always, there is a look of adoration in Morpheus' eyes. He looks handsome, having foregone his usual long black coat for a formal suit of that time. He's even managed to tame his messy hair — something Mervyn and Hob must have helped him with. As you get to where he stands, you see his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Don't cry, my love," you whisper. You place your palm against his cheek and rub your thumb under his eye. And like always, he leans into your touch, finding comfort in you. He turns his head and press a kiss against your palm — all while not breaking eye contact with you, the coy bastard.

You shake your head and smile.

The memory fast forwards, and suddenly he's saying his vows. He doesn't speak quietly — he has no shame in everyone hearing how much he means to you.

"I vow to always find you, as long as you wait for me. I vow to love you for as long as you let me. And I vow to be your husband until you want me no longer. All I am is yours until you cast me aside. And I beg of you to never."

Thank the gods you had said with your speech first. His speech had rendered you overcome with emotion to do anything else but cup his face and kiss him, both of you sealing your promises of forever with that act.

And both of you had kept your promises to each other. He remained by your side, as you remained by his. Until now.

He, by no fault of his own, disappeared from your side.

And you, also by no fault of your own, disappeared from his side.

A cruel twist of fate. Perhaps the universe restoring balance to the centuries of happiness the two of you lived together. Perhaps that had been enough, and it's time you stop trying to delay the inevitable. Perhaps it's time you stop and succumb to the exhaustion and pain of being with Morpheus.

I vow to always find you, as long as you wait for me.

Wait for me.

Morpheus' vow jerks you back to consciousness. Your eyes snap open, staring directly into the hunter who's looking down at you greedily. His mouth is curled into a hideous snarl, and his pride at seeing you weak and defenceless has drawn his head close enough that your noses were nearly touching.

Behold pride, you think as your hands drop from his wrists in feign unconsciousness, the downfall of all men.

You grab onto the sides of his head and dig your thumbs into his eyes. You try not to think about why your muscles memorize the exact amount of pressure and angle to do it so.

The hunter jerks backwards, screaming, his hands flying to his eyes which has begun to bleed. You cough violently as you take in as much air as you can to soothe the fire in your lungs, all the while scrambling to your knees and trying to get away.

A hand grasps onto your ankle.

You're pulled backwards with a scream.

"Where do you think you're going, lady?" the hunter growls. "I'm not done with you yet—"

"Remove your hands from me."

You feel the man go still. His hand falls from your ankle, and you scramble forwards. You don't need to look back to feel the shift in the air, but you do anyway because looking at them is the least you can do.

The man pulls out his saw from his bag. Without hesitation, he places the blade over his wrist and begin to move back and forth. He screams out in pain and begs for relief, but doesn't stop his motions. The hunter looks over at you, eyes glassy with gold that resembles sand, as his hand falls to the floor.

You're out of the bathroom before he begins his other hand. Before Death arrives for him.

You begin to run and don't look back.

Your throat is throbbing.

You touch your throat gingerly, and you don't need a mirror to know that the handprints of that man are visible against your skin. But even as you cough, the motion rough against your raw throat, you don't stop running.

You catch sight of a hotel, and you feel relief as you turn away from the road and bolt up the hill to the building. It'll be easier to hide in one of the man rooms, but the guarantee of people in the hotel was cause for concern. But as long as you keep your mouth shut, all should be fine.

You slow into a walk as you pass a trio of people in the parking lot. Name tags dangle from their chest, one of who is named, The Music Teacher. In the centuries you've been alive, you've never heard such an in-depth and seriously spoken topic about their favourite methods of cooking barbecue and collecting grills.

As you hurry inside, you pass by a sign that reads: CEREAL CONVENTION.

Is cereal that interesting to warrant a convention? you wonder as you scan the lobby. Nothing looks too out of place, apart from more people with name tags. It wasn't weird that there were adults taking part in the convention, but it was weird that there wasn't a single child in sight. A strange familiarity with those two words only made you more uncomfortable.

"Ma'am?" the receptionist calls. "May I help you?"

You tug up your turtleneck before approaching the reception desk and smiling at the receptionist. She visibly relaxes and smiles back, even wider than before.

"Do I know you?" she asks, peering at you curiously like everyone else who looks at you. But no matter how hard they look, they'll never be able to remember just where they remember you. Dreams had a funny way of being that way.

Even if she doesn't remember, her smile changes from being polite to being genuinely friendly, as if her muscles remember that you were a friend.

You motion for a notepad and pen. The receptionist scurries and puts the tools before you.

1 room, 1 night please, you write down.

She doesn't question it. She eagerly nods and asks for your name, which you also write down.

"You already have a room, ma'am," the receptionist informs you.

You raise a brow. A room? You never reserve your hotel rooms ahead. That guarantees someone waiting to kill you when you get there, as you learned a few decades ago in Manila.

The receptionist seems to understand the confusion on your face. "Perhaps you reserved the room for the convention?" she suggested.

But what interest would you have in a cereal convention—

The invitation.

The memory is jarring. Suddenly, you can picture it clearly. You can even feel the parchment between your fingers as you opened it, and the gasp you let out as you dropped the envelope and an eyeball rolled out, the nerve still attached.

The iris was blue, a shade nearly as light as Morpheus'. You knew it was no coincidence.

You take a step back from the receptionist, reeling that you've walked straight into a trap. You're so caught up in trying to figure out a way to get out without alerting anyone that you hear the receptionist's warning too late and your back hit something large and firm.

You spin around, your hand instinctively going to the hilt of the knife hidden underneath your shirt, before freezing in recognition at the man in a green cloak and cane.

"Lady Y/N?" the man gasps, gawking at you.

"Fiddler's Green?"

You've never seen Fiddler's Green personified as a human before, but the warmth that surrounds him in unmistakeable and makes you relax.

He dips his head in a respectful bow as he puts an appropriate amount of distance before you — a law Morpheus decreed in the Dreaming. He had been more possessive back then, especially since it was right after the power transference ceremony. Though you thought it ridiculous, you saw the slight relief it brought him so you allowed it to remain, pretending you still didn't know about it.

The appropriate response to a bow is to return with a small curtsy, but after a century of running, your first response is to run. You have to go before you harm Fiddler's Green. You'd never be able to forgive yourself for hurting someone so important to both you and Morpheus.

But it's because he's so important to Morpheus, and you've always known him so loyal to the Dreaming, that you think about your words carefully before speaking.

"What are you doing here?" you ask hesitantly, your voice still a bit rough from the fight. "Why have you left the Dreaming when you are so vital to it?"

You wait for the gold to appear in his eyes, but it doesn't appear.

"I am not vital to the Dreaming," Fiddler's Green says. "You and lord Morpheus are, and you were both gone. I left to go search for you, but I stayed for the humans. I do worry for the punishment I will receive. I know lord Morpheus has been calling back his other dreams and nightmares, but I wouldn't exchange it for the knowledge I have learned from the people who visit my glades every night."

You soften at the pureness in Fiddler's Green, but something catches your attention.

"My husband? He's free?"

Fiddler's Green looks surprised. "Why, yes, lady Y/N. He's been back for a few months, I believe. You haven't seen him? I thought that was why you were here. I thought perhaps he sent you after us."

You fight back tears of relief at the news that your husband has managed to break himself free from his cage. Your only regret is not being the one to have helped freed him, and you hope he doesn't resent you for that.

But what if he does? What if he thinks you have abandoned him? What if he thinks you've cast him aside? A hundred years, and he never received a visit from you. Now he's been free for months and you have not received a visit from him.

Why had he not come looking for you?

"There is something else you must know, lady Y/N." Fiddler's Green bends to your height. "The Corinthian is here."

You look at him in panic. How was it possible that you, him, and the Corinthian were all in the same place at the same time? You hadn't meant to come to the convention, yet there you were. Fiddler's Green definitely didn't prepared to se you or the Corinthian, which meant he was unaware too. What could be the reason for three pieces of the Dreaming to be near each other?

"I'm here to help Rose Walker find her little brother, Jed," he continues. "I fear both her and the boy are in danger from him."

"Then you must return to the Dreaming and let my husband know," you say without thinking.

The second the words leave your mouth, gold fills Fiddler's Green's eyes. He straightens and turns on his heel, and despite telling him to stop, he marches out of the hotel without another glance back, leaving you alone with your whispered apology going unheard.

Shit, you think. You try to dismiss your worries by entrusting Fiddler's Green's safety to Morpheus. He would be safer in the Dreaming than here with the Corinthian and no Morpheus.

You grab the piece of paper he had been holding. It's a missing poster for Jed Walker, and contains a picture of him with an older girl — Rose Walker, you presume.

If two mortals were being preyed on by a nightmare, then it was part of your responsibility as lady of the Dreaming to protect them. Morpheus can deal with the Corinthian. You just have to trust he'll come.

Of course he'll come, you think as you pocket the poster. I'm his wife.

In the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a man in a beige suit. There's something charmingly offputting about the man even from a distance — something you've only seen another man possess before.

You head in his direction immediately, only to be stopped by a man with the name tag Fun Land.

"Only guests are allowed in the convention."

"I think—"

"Guests only."

You eye him irritatedly. You glance at the extra name tags on the table, one of which you recognize coldly. Slowly, you look back up at Fun Land, then at the other convention attendees who are also wearing name tags. The conversations you manage to overhear are still talking about collecting. Only now, you're starting to understand what this fucking convention's really about.

"Can you check if I'm on the list?" you ask tightly.

"You're a guest?" he asks dubiously. "Name?"

"Whispers."

His eyes widen. You don't entertain the excitement in his voice as he apologizes and starts to ramble about how he was a fan. You snatch your name tag from his trembling grasp, his palm slightly sweaty, before starting your search for the Walkers in the basement, where you also coincidentally saw the man in the beige suit head down.

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ…

You push Jed behind you.

He grips onto the back of your shirt, trembling in fear as you and him both look at the Corinthian and the man being stabbed to death by two others behind him.

Even with those dark shades on in the dimly lit room, you know the Corinthian is looking at you. You can feel his stare raking you up and down, taking every inch of you greedily. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

It has been a century since he last saw you, after all. An entire century since he stopped you from entering the basement of Rodrick Burgess and freeing your husband when you were right outside the door, and instead put a bounty on your head.

"Hello, my lady," the Corinthian says, his honey-like drawl drawing shivers from you as always. He dips his head in a bow — more mocking than respectful. He takes a step towards you, and you take three back. "I've missed you."

ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ…

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐-𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋?

𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎! 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍'𝗌 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇!

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 @aurorarevenclaw1927, @hueanhdang

𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 @justviktormlolm, @amirahroronoa, @sunna-fangirls, @mrs-captainsteverogers, @absbdbshhs, @urbanbts, @theamuz, @ac-procrastinator-13, @thegreatestsandwich, @julegrav009-blog, @harrypotter55, @blossomedfloweroflove, @lestaikkeullsokka, @thetrashypanda423, @ponyboys-sunsets, @izzicle, @dilfsandtherapy, @mischiefmanaged71, @grippleback-galaxy, @cynic-spirit, @thecrazytealady, @violet-19999, @junobutbored, @avanisbored, @redskull199987, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @ladymoon666, @celestialceremonials, @mm2305, @ttae-yong, @thegreatestsandwich, @notabotiswear, @boofy1998, @crimsonsabbath, @megumimind, @itsnanabun, @spygrrl99, @regulusblacksimpsblog, @maverey, @storm4433, @writerinlearning, @lokigirlszendaya, @thesadvampire, @thestarsanctuary, @floreoo, @pinkpunkdynamite, @jesllianaquilesrolon, @aegeanblues, @anjimimimoo, @imaginativefanatic, @book-place, @littlemoistcarrot, @lorosette, @wondermia69, @commanderfreethatdust

𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎!

You tease, all those little crumbs of what Morpheus would be like in bed and NO FOLLOW THROUGH?! Ma'am, may I request a smut alphabet for him? We deserve to be FED 😭

𝗅𝗈𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎!

𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝗂𝖽𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗉𝗁𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗍-𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇-𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽! 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 :)

Is it a possibility that you’ll do another love languages fic when you have time? For the very well dressed serial killer

𝗁𝗂 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇!

𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇'𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇'𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌

𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 (𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒), 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍. 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 (𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌' 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾)

HEY GIRL DO YOU WRITE FOR ANY OTHER CHARACTERS IN THE SANDMAN OR JUST DREAM? BC IF YOU DO IM SO SURE THAT MANY PEOPLE WOULD LOVE A LOVE LANGUAGES FIC FOR THE CORINTHIAN BC YOU DID IT SO WELL

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. — 08.30.22

𝗠𝗜𝗔 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼, 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾. 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 (𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋). 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝗏𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂'𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇! 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾! 𝙩𝙡;𝙙𝙧 𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖬𝖨𝖠 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾!

𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝗂 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍, 𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 (𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗅). 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖡𝖴𝖳 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌! 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗂𝗍'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 09.01.22 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇! 𝙩𝙡;𝙙𝙧 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 09.01.22

𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗽𝗵𝗲𝘂𝘀 𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 (𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂'𝗆 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾) 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅! 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗌 09.05.22

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗋𝖺, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗌 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽? 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇? 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋? 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒?

𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒. 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗍: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 = 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼.

𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗎𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾! 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽. 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾!