for the made-up fic titles game 😇
Once Upon a Dream
Eve, lovely, thank you for always being so kind and for your patience with me and this game. Strangely enough, this idea came to me while waiting for my car to get a tune up. Inspiration always strikes in the silliest places. I hope you enjoy. ✨
Pairing: Xavier X Reader
Summary: Everyone else seems worried that you haven't met someone yet. The truth is...you have.
Word Count: 1,169
A/N: Thank you @humanitys-strongest-brat and @writingsdevoid for beta reading for me, and helping me tweak the end a bit!
It was always the same dream, over and over.
You would open your eyes to the brightest blue sky, hear the hush of the wind slipping through the long grass, bending strands of it to tickle your face.
It was so clear and vivid in your mind - the feeling of the odd uniform on your body, the smell of the meadow you were laying in.
The black gloved hand that would appear before you to help you rise. A deep voice, light with laughter, asking if you had slept well, princess?
And then the hand would pull you forward, you would blink, but you could never make out the face that was already turning away from you. Never clearly see anything more than an ear, wisps of light hair, as he twisted to sit beside you, fingers still laced together.
You would lean onto his shoulder, eyes drifting down to the white cuff of the jacket - plucking at it absentmindedly, heart already heavy.
"I won't remember this," you would sigh with a weight in your chest that you would remember when you woke, although you couldn't be sure of where it came from.
"I know," he would say, as if this is a conversation you had many times before. "But let's just enjoy right now."
With a nod, you would curl in deeper, wrap yourself around his arm while you could hear him chuckle into your hair, the light press of lips against it. He never said it, but you knew that he enjoyed how you would cling to him.
His thumb would stroke over your own, where your hands remained joined, fully resting his head against your own, "Tell me about your day, my star."
And you would - every mundane detail from when you woke, to the current drama at your place of work, down to the silly advertisement you had seen when watching videos.
He would chuckle at the parts you would expect him to, make comments as if he remembered all the dreams and talks from before. Tease, advise, and support when the need arose for each.
And then, as it always happened, you would hear a sound, a song, almost, that would snag your attention. As you turned to search, you always would catch the whispers of the same phrase as your mind returned from the dreaming, arm stretched toward your phone ringing with your alarm.
I'll find you no matter where you are.
With a sigh, you would click it off, mind still snuggled against your dreaming prince. A deep breath, a momentary pout, and then you would get up to face the day once more.
This particular day, however, your friend had coerced you into a lunch with not only you and her partner, but another couple and a mutual friend of theirs as well.
As you perused your closet for an outfit you felt appropriate for this set up, because that's exactly what this lunch was, as many others had been before it, your mind drifted away to the hidden space of the night - one for you an him; your love without a face.
Why was it that you couldn't see his face? There was probably a psychological reason; one a therapist would love to dissect for you.
With a few final touches, and a nod to your reflection in the mirror, you snagged your keys and headed out.
This lunch was made with good intentions, you knew that. Your friend worried about you, even though you had insisted you were fine. Everyone else seemed concerned that you had not found your other half just yet, but you had always brushed them off with a wave.
"The man of my dreams will show up when he wants."
"How can you meet him if you hide away every day in your home?" Had been the response.
There wasn't a good way to explain that was actually the only way that you could see him.
So you entertained her with going, made good conversations with folks that many times, later, became a connection for something else. Nothing ever wasted, your mother used to say.
And with a pleasant expression, you made your way down to the cafe on the corner of a busy intersection downtown. You exchanged greetings and platitudes, nodding when told the mysterious friend was late. Of course he was.
Your group moved through the line and ordered your lunches, taking over the covered porch in the back - moving tables and chairs so that you could sit and converse in a misshapen circle. Back toward the restaurant, you let your eyes roam over the city stretching before you; the hush of the wind sweeping through the area, the sky's shade of blue scratching at a memory…
A cheer from a friend pulled you back to the din of conversation. "Hey, man! You made it!"
"Yeah, sorry, lost track of time," said someone behind you, sheepishly.
Every nerve in your body seemed to spark with recognition. That voice - you knew that voice.
"Please don't tell me you fell asleep again."
A light chuckle, and your fingers curled into your palms. There was no mistaking it. "No, I went to pick up a book from a friend's shop. When I saw I had some time, I sat down to start skimming through it. And then I lost track of time."
Your friend's shoulder bumped into your own, and your eyes jumped to her face, trying your best to mask your shock. "He's a bit of a historian," she explained with a nod toward the man behind you.
The chair to your left scraped against the stone as it was pulled free - the only free chair you realized with horror. Fascination? Wonder?
There was no way - no absolute way that this was reality right now. If anything, you had officially lost your last marble. But - you had to introduce yourself. Had to say hello. At bare minimum - right? It was a very normal thing to do when you met someone new.
Was he new, though?
Using your drink as a way to steady yourself, the liquid cold and grounding as it raced down your throat, you forced your body to turn, to look, to -
His hair, so light in the sun you'd think it almost silver. Just like…
Your breath caught as blue eyes caught yours, and you found yourself falling into them- a midnight sky filled with starlight. How could someone have such pretty eyes?
He smiled at you, a gentle swoop of a thing as he tilted his head. "I don't think we've formally met," he said, offering you his hand. "Hi, I'm Xavier. It's nice to finally meet you."
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Created by @thechaoticarchivist . DO NOT REPOST STORIES! Reblogs and comments are always welcome ♥ Love and Deepspace Master List
