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winds whisper naught but the truth // nct dream x f!reader

chapter one; to dream a dream of all that is yet to come

summary; the thing about myths, those stories passed from generation to generation with hushed whispers over a fire, is that they stem from truth. even distorted over time it still holds some of the sincerity at it's core. people that have otherworldly abilities walk the same earth as you, hidden in plain sight, ruling society without everyone knowing. but stories are just stories ... until they're not, until they're seven boys who you are suddenly entertwined with, flesh and soul.

word count; 1.5k

warning; ch; swearing, alluding to violence; series; violence, emotional manipulation, trauma, violent magic???

note; this was inspired by the smoothie trailers and icantfeelanything photobook. this is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the boys, pls remember that 😭✋️

The water reflected the colors of the sky, falsely painting itself in shades of orange. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but no matter how hard the water tries to mimic its mirrored counterpart, water is still water. It can mold into any shape or form it is forced into, play the part it was given, fit where it is wanted but it only takes the smallest amount of pressure to break the illusion, the water rippling and splashing in response, a reminder of what it is. If you were an element, you think you’d be water.

Perhaps that’s where your affinity for the element came from, or maybe it was the gentle beauty of it or maybe, just maybe, the violence it ensued despite its nature. Even in its gentlest form, soft waves cradling you in its cold embrace, it takes so little for a person to drown, so little for water to take the life it is attempting to nourish.

Sometimes you wonder if death would be a gentle embrace, would it cradle you like the water? Would it caress you like the wind? Warm you like the fire? Or would it be harsh and abrupt, like the earth crumbling from beneath your feet without warning?

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to shake away your thoughts of death. You closed your eyes, using your knees as a makeshift pillow. But the darkness that danced behind your eyelids was no friend to you, almost instantly transforming into the very image you were trying to escape, the very dream that has plagued you night after night.

The boy came into view first, as he always did. He was beautiful to look at, so much so that at times you tried to prolong this part of the dream just to fully take in his features. You never could, prolong it, the dream played out the same everytime, but by now you’ve had it so often you have every dip and curve of the strangers face memorized.

His face was soft and you liked to imagine, inviting, under different circumstances. He has full round cheeks and plush lips that look like they were made to smile. You wanted to see it, his smile, you bet it could light up a room. But all you saw was the grimace he tried to fight off, the crack that traced down his lip, begging to open back up with a fresh well of blood, the way his undereyes were dark and sunken in despite being clearly well fed, the hard look in his eyes. A stare so cold it made you uncomfortable despite it not being directed your way, no, the boy wasn’t staring at you, he was watching the man across from him.

They sat in a cold empty room with steel flooring and glass walls, each them sat on a steel chair of their own. The boy watched the man, the look of disdain heavy in his eyes, the man didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead opting to stare at his lap, sniffling and mumbling to himself, words you couldn’t make out.

A voice echoed out from an unseen speaker, “Now.” The boy's lip twitched at the command, he looked as if he wanted to refuse but his body seemed to work on muscle memory, responding to the voice immediately. He stood swiftly, making his way before the older man and kneeling before him. Only then did the man look at him but as soon as their eyes met, the man’s sniffling turned to sobs. His words absolutely incoherent as the boy finally spoke, “It will be alright.” His voice was soft and deep, the kind of voice that soothed.

The man’s sobs quieted back down to sniffles, then to deep breathes, and then nothing. He straightened his back, rolling his shoulders before he spoke, “Now get away.” He regarded the boy as if he was lower than the dirt beneath his shoes but the boy said nothing, only stood and retreated back to his seat.

The dream always ended the same way. You didn’t understand why. Why you dreamt this dream, what it meant, who the boy was. They were questions you were begging the universe for answers to.

ᯓ𖹭

Jaemin sat stiffly, his fists bunching the fabric of his pants so tightly his knuckles turned white. He attempted to steady himself with deep inhales through his nose, attempting to keep his overwhelming emotions at bay, keep the tears from escaping. He stared blankly, unseeing at the wall before him, habitually tuning out the conversation happening around him.

“Mr. Na.” The woman’s stern voice broke his trance, his eyes trailing away to meet hers. She leaned closer, looking into his eyes with such intensity it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t move, he let her continue her search in silence. After what felt like agonizing hours, the woman hummed her approval, straightening her back and dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“He is maintaining control over his emotions.” Jaemin wanted to roll his eyes, to scoff, to scream and rage, to throw something, anything, he wanted to do anything that they weren’t expecting of him, anything to show he didn’t belong to them. But he knew the consequences, perhaps better than most in his opinion, so instead, all he did was ball his fists at his side and bow his head as he was escorted back to the common area.

The day went by slow and monotonous, everything was muscle memory, a daze his body was living through. He could account the day if he was asked, but really it was merely half processed scenes that his eyes witnessed while his mind was lost in his anger. Truly that’s how he spent everyday, his mind trying to form an escape for him, to build him his own safe haven but everyday it failed. What was there to build, or imagine, when all you knew was fear and anger. He wanted to experience these ideas that, objectively, he knew existed but he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Was it objective? Surely not everyone lives the same way he does, he’s been told about the lives of the mundanes. They all have, they’re taught about them, but no matter how much he knows that they exist and live such different lives he still can’t seem to wrap his head around something he’s never even seen.

Is it something he wants to see? He doesn’t feel as if he happy but what if he’s not meant to be. Really, truly, he shouldn’t be thinking about mundane. They’re beneath him, simple minded creatures with no sense of structure that would be lost without the guidance of the divines. Right ?

Yes, of course it’s right. That’s what he’s been taught, but still, he wants to witness it for himself. It’s not as if he’s going to run away, he doesn’t want to live amongst people like that. Structure and order make the world go round. Everyone has their place in society, everything would collapse if people just decided to forgo their roles based on whims.

But he’s not forgoing anything, he’s not abandoning his role, he’s just exploring, for a night, one night. No one needs to know but him, he’s really not doing anything wrong, just loosing a little sleep.

At least that’s what he told himself as he pretended to sleep, waiting for the night guards to retire to their posts before climbing out a window.

ᯓ𖹭

Jaemin was severely questioning himself as he wandered through the woods that surrounded his boarding school, he wondered how long it would take him to reach town by foot and if he would even get a glimpse of another person before he had to go back. He only had the darkness on his side, he needed to be back in bed before the sun rose. He walked and walked and walked until he doubted he would even see the town at this rate , time was fleeting and his feet could only take him so far.

But just as he started to feel that familiar tinge of disappointment in his chest, he spotted a house in the distance, making him freeze where he stood. This was what he wanted, right? He felt almost like a giddy child, but still his nerves were on edge. He slowly made his way closer, cautious but his curiosity driving him forward.

As he drew nearer, the house came into better view, it was a quaint two story cottage, built of pale wood and an array of stones, accented with blue paint in certain parts. It was lovely in a way Jaemin had never seen before, if someone had described it to him, he would have called it proof of the mundane’s lack of order, but to see it before him, it held a warmth and inviting presence unlike anything he knew.

They say, curiosity is the death of obedience, these thoughts were a sickness that plagued the minds of children, something that needed to be taught out of them. But now in this moment, he couldn’t help himself, he needed to see the house closer, it’s not as if any of the residents would be awake at this hour to see him wander their property, to hear the way the twigs and leaves crunched beneath his feet. No one would ever know he was there.