Dreamcatcher Imagines

𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗴 | real

Reader Is: Neutral Age (Non-DC AU)
Categories: Fantasy, Fluff
Summary: Handong is a statue at the museum where the reader works, until a wish on a four-leaf clover changes everything.

♡

She's perfect.

She's an angel.

She's not real, though, her life is merely an illusion.

You've named her Handong. Affectionately, you call her Dongie. She doesn't respond to either, yet you still talk to her anyways.

"Good morning, Dongie," you said sweetly, running your fingertips over the statue as you brushed past her into the museum.

For a moment, you felt her marble figure seem to come to life under your touch, but you knew as always that it was only a reflection of your own warmth, the suppleness of your own skin. It was never hers. You took your place at the reception desk behind her sculpted dress, a flowy blouse covering her chest and layers of fluffy tulle around her knees that looked as though they would blow in the wind if they saw the outside air.

You created many fantasies about what Handong would be like if she were real, but your favorite of these was the tale of the Dreamcatcher.

Long ago, there were what the people called the Seven Dreamers. They were the women who dared to imagine, who chased their deepest desires to heal the world despite the obstacles cast in place by their opposition, the Nightmares, that prevented them from doing more good than evil. The bravest of these was Handong, who forged the most plentiful amount of paths, strayed the farthest from her home, and pushed the hardest for her success.

But Handong was both blessed and cursed with being the fairest being in the world, her beauty enchanting any person who came across her. Those who did were said to follow her, searching for her for the rest of their lives, for no one could ever compare to her. They suffered from horribly intense and incurable insomnia, and nearly always died of exhaustion.

Because of this, she lived her life in secret, working under the cover of nightfall to do her good, to leave her mark on the world, and there was power in her silence. Handong became known as the Dreamcatcher from then on.

But though you enjoyed weaving the most fantastical of tales in your mind to fit the beautiful sculpture, you wanted more than anything for Handong herself to tell you who she was, for something about her always looked almost familiar to you. Would she tell you that she had known you in another time, in another life? If only you could breathe life into her figure, if only you could split your soul in two, you would do so without hesitation.

As you sat down on your chair behind the desk, you noticed on the wooden surface in front of you a necklace, a four-leaf clover trapped in resin on a gold chain. Thinking that it had simply been meant to make its way to the lost-and-found, you picked it up to place it there. But when you did, you saw the flyer that you had meant to post on the door about a sale in the gift shop, and it distracted you. You held onto the pendant in your free hand as you grabbed the flyer and a piece of tape, hastily fastening it to the glass entryway.

When you walked back to your desk past Handong again, you half-smiled to yourself. I wish that you were real, you thought with a sigh. Maybe then I would finally have someone to talk to, someone to understand me.

"Help me down, then. It's too high to jump."

The deep yet undeniably feminine and sultry voice made you freeze in your tracks. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes searching the museum entrance. You hadn't seen anyone through the glass doors, and you were the only employee in the building, but you knew that the voice hadn't come from your mind. You weren't sure that you wanted to believe that it had come from where you fleetingly thought that it might have.

"Did I scare you? I didn't mean to. I've never been alive before, I'm only just learning."

The voice was coming from above you, and you knew it. Shakily, your eyes traveled up the pedestal in front of the desk. Countless colors had suddenly washed over Handong's figure. Her boots were the only thing that remained plain white. The bottom half of her dress was electrifyingly pink, the top now swathed with a pastel plaid pattern. Each one of the multicolored baubles in her hair and on her blouse shone in the spotlight positioned on her, as did her icy blonde hair. Her bright makeup glittered as she batted her long black eyelashes at you.

Your feet felt as though they had been glued to the floor, like something was holding you down, locking you in place. If you moved, you might wake up from the dream that you seemed to be in.

But subconsciously, you reached a hand out to the figure above you, holding Handong's fingers tightly as she jumped to the floor as nimbly as a cat. "It's nice to meet you. You've always taken such good care of me. Thank you for that."

You were still too shocked to speak. Was it really all just a dream? The way that her skin felt under your grasp and how her soft voice fell upon your ears seemed too real to imagine, but the opposite could be said for the way that Handong came to life before your eyes.

"I thought that you wished for someone to talk to, but you seem very quiet right now."

"S-Sorry," was your first whispered word to the figure before you. It was the only automatic response that your brain could find to present to her, and she frowned.

"I may not know much about feelings yet, but I don't think that you should be sorry," Handong spoke.

First you had brought her to life, now she was chiding you. You chuckled at that, and Handong stared at you curiously. "I don't know what to say," you finally spoke, feeling quite silly all of a sudden. You were standing in the middle of the lobby, holding hands with what had been a marble statue up until a minute ago, and you feared anyone coming through the doors and seeing you, for what if this was all an illusion? You would look out of your mind if you were talking to thin air.

"Hello, ladies," a friendly voice suddenly called, and you spotted its owner stepping into the entrance. The older man looked around you to the empty reception desk, then back to you and Handong. "You work here?"

"I do," you quickly responded. Your head was spinning – could he really see the girl beside you?

"Great. What do I owe you for admission for one?"

"T-This is our pricing, sir," you stammered, gesturing to a frame atop the desk where he could figure out which fee to pay and give you the corresponding amount of cash, which he handed over with a smile. "Enjoy your visit," you smiled a bit shakily as he walked off into the first exhibit.

"Thanks. Have a good day, girls."

Your eyes fell on Handong across the room as you thought out loud. "I guess that you are real now, then, aren't you?"

Handong didn't answer you, simply stepping forward to lean against the other side of the desk and study you for several moments with eyes that you could now see were tinted a deep chocolate hue. When she spoke again, they stared directly into your soul with certainty, despite the inquisitive nature of her reply.

"Well, my love, is it that I am only real now, or is it in fact that we are all just waiting for someone to love us so that we may truly live?"