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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

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Oh those flower prompts are great! I may need to reblog it and play as well. Anyway:

Violet for Corintheus. :)

You thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did, every time.

YESSS CORINTHEUS. I uh…well shit if I thought yesterday’s prompt got away from me, this one REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME at 2k words aiojdoiajdoia. Gonna need to put it up on AO3 too but that’s a tomorrow problem lmao.

Flower Prompt Game!

cw: blood mention, also Dark Dream kinda near the end

—---------

When the Corinthian blinks back into existence, he does not gasp for breath, does not clutch at his newly reformed body, so foreign and yet so familiar, and he certainly does not dare meet his maker and unmaker’s heavy gaze.

At least, not at first. But Dream is a burning fire, and the Corinthian is nothing but a moth, forever drawn in by the Endless’s overpowering presence. When he can avoid it no longer, the Corinthian turns his eyes (and oh, they’re the same as ever with their little teeth) towards the King of Dreams.

“Hello, little dream,” Dream’s voice booms through the Shores of Creation. The Corinthian can feel the ground tremble beneath his still unsteady feet. “I welcome you back to the Dreaming.”

“Hi,” the blonde greets. He thinks his voice should be scratchy, his throat dry, and yet…there is nothing to suggest he’s been away, no hints that his body has been in disuse. But he still knows quite some time has passed, and his first question is—

“Why now? Why am I here, Dream?”

Dream’s lips quirk the slightest bit. It is a strange look on his lord, whom the Corinthian can only remember frowning for as far back as he can remember.

“It was time,” Dream replies eventually. He does not offer any further explanations, nor does he move to shuffle the nightmare off to his old duties. He merely stands there, taking in all that the Corinthian is, was, whatever the hell he is now, and just. Stares.

Well that answers shit all about why he’s here.

But what did he expect, really? Dream has never given him a straight answer, not as far as he can remember and—

Well. That’s another interesting thing. His memories aren’t fully back yet. His brain feels a bit like what Swiss cheese must feel like, with gaps in time and bits of partially formed memories, senses, tastes. The Corinthian wonders if these things will come back eventually, or if Dream has stolen away what he did not find useful for him to remember for his own purposes.

“Why can’t I remember everything?” the Corinthian blurts out. He has never been known for holding his tongue, this much he does know, the strange gaps in his memories be damned. “I know I’m missing some memories, don’t pretend like I’m not,” he adds, trying and failing to tamp the bitterness down.

Dream purses his lips, clearly displeased. The Corinthian wonders why his lord didn’t remake him with less insolence. Not that he wouldn’t have found a way to be. He thinks he was always meant to question authority. He braces himself for the lecture he knows is coming.

But then Dream’s response surprises him.

“It is a side effect of having been unmade for so long, little one,” Dream says, his tone oddly gentle. “Your memories should fully return with time. You have my apologies Corinthian. It was never my intent to leave you for so long.”

The Corinthian stares and stares and stares, unable to process what has just happened. Did Dream just…apologize? To him?

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Dream of the Endless?” the Corinthian demands.

A low rumble begins to shake throughout the realm. The Corinthian braces himself, preparing to be unmade once more, preparing for perhaps an attack on the Dreaming, but what he isn’t prepared for is the unnatural way that Dream’s body trembles and shakes along with the rest of the shores. It’s then that the Corinthian realizes exactly what it is that’s happening.

Dream is laughing. The sound is a horrid, grating, discordant and awful thing. It seeps into the very fibers of his being. The Corinthian thinks he would give anything to make it stop, and yet. And yet.

When the laughter subsides, they regard one another once more, Dream with more curiosity and the Corinthian with wariness. Finally, when the silence has stretched too long, Dream sighs and turns to walk along the shore. The motion is one the Corinthian immediately recognizes, and he immediately follows, falling in line next to his master.

“Much has changed since our last confrontation, Corinthian,” Dream says after they have been walking for some time.

“You’re not gonna tell me more than that, are you?” the Corinthian asks.

Dream’s silence is enough of an answer for the both of them. The Corinthian wonders, not for the first time, why he’s here. He had been Dream’s favorite once. Surely that was no longer the case. Surely his creator had crafted another nightmare to fulfill what was once his purpose. Surely—

“What do you remember of your previous life, Corinthian?” Dream asks, interrupting the Corinthian from his maudlin thoughts.

The Corinthian pauses his steps and considers. Dream also pauses and turns to face him, waiting for an answer.

The Corinthian remembers his original purpose. He remembers the dreamers, the nightmares he crafted for their fragile minds. Remembers relishing in the taste of fear so clear in their minds.

He also remembers the Waking. Remembers how bold and bright and beautiful it once felt to him. He remembers that the taste of human flesh, so different from what he experienced in the Dreaming. He remembers the feel of a human life as he held it in his hands. He remembers ice cream and whiskey. And sex. He loved sex.

“I was a nightmare,” he answers eventually, holding his gaze with Dream’s. “Still feel like one too. But I was human too. At least, I tried to be for a bit.”

Dream hums. “That is true. You figured out a way to leave the Dreaming without my assistance, so you could wander the Waking on your own.” The way he says it, as if reluctantly proud and aggrieved at the same time, sends a thrill down the Corinthian’s spine.

“I left. A lot. Didn’t I?” the nightmares asks, though he already knows the answer.

“You did,” Dream answers. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did, every time. I felt your loss from the Dreaming, every—single—time,” he emphasizes, as if the Corinthian’s actions had somehow wounded him. But if that were truly the case—

“Why didn’t you chase after me?” the nightmare asks.

“I did,” Dream replies immediately. “After I realized that you were—”

“No, not then,” the Corinthian clarifies. “Before I truly disobeyed you. Why not before my first victim?”

Dream is silent. The Corinthian wants to press, to demand and answer, but he knows such tactics never work. Dream may be different than what he remembers, but some things he knows will always fundamentally be the same.

“An oversight,” Dream finally admits with a sigh. “I had thought you would grow bored of the Waking and its too bright, too loud world. I had thought—hoped, perhaps, that this was nothing more than a passing fancy.”

“It wasn’t,” The Corinthian answers. Dream nods.

“I know,” he agrees. “You were desperate to live amongst humanity. So much so that you left me to rot in a glass prison for a century.”

The Corinthian barely keeps himself from crumpling to the ground underneath the accusation. So Dream knew about that too. And he still chose to bring him back. But why?

“You got out,” he offers. “It’s not like I thought they could hold you forever.” He knew his time was limited in the Waking. But he still wasn’t ready to let go, even after more than a century of being free. And so it was inevitable he was unmade.

“I did,” Dream agrees. “And I have had time to reflect since.”

Dream then turns away from him and resumes their walk. The Corinthian follows him, obedient as ever. He will always be obedient in some manner, he thinks.

They walk in silence once more, no sound passing between them except for the gentle waves that wash upon the shore. The Corinthian wonders once more what’s changed in his time away. What had Dream reflected on? What made him change his mind?

“Dream? Why am I really back? Why did you recreate me?” the Corinthian asks once more. He tugs at his master’s sleeve, like a child would an adult, which is absurd, considering they are of a height. But Dream has always been so much more than the Corinthian, simply by being Endless. The Corinthian remembers he used to resent that. He tries not to dwell on why he no longer does.

Dream hums as he turns to face the nightmare once more and this time, finally, finally, he answers.

“You were my most perfect creation,” Dream says, his tone soft, nostalgic even. “The Dreaming was—incomplete—without your presence.” He says this last part as if mourning a lost lover, and the Corinthian feels as though an immeasurable weight has both been lifted and placed upon his body all at once.

“You missed me,” he says, and as the words make their way through his lungs, he knows them to be true. It tilts his entire world sideways, the axis of all his truths moved slightly to the left as he considers everything about the conversation that’s passed between them. Dream missed him. Dream wanted him to come home. Dream wants him, even now, because the Corinthian still is, after all this time, his favorite.

Dream’s lips quirk, as if parsing the nightmare’s thoughts. “Perhaps, little nightmare. Perhaps,” he says, and it sounds like an admission. It’s as good as the nightmare knows he’s going to get.

The Corinthian then does something he realizes he’s been wanting to do since the first time he was brought into being.

He kisses Dream of the Endless.

Dream sighs into the kiss, allows the Corinthian to tangle his fingers in his wild, ink black hair, and then he bites down on the Corinthian’s lip, splitting it open and spilling blood, human blood, coppery and bitter, between their mouths. The Corinthian moans at the taste, and deepens the kiss, presses his tongue insistently inside Dream’s cold mouth. The Dream King’s own tongue rises to meet his, and the Corinthian feels a twinge of pain as Dream’s fingers sharpen into claws that rake deep scratches down his back. The act only spurs the Corinthian on more.

Too soon the moment is over as Dream pulls back from him. They are both breathing heavily, though neither being has need for human breath. But all the same, there is now a shared arousal between them, a shared heat, a shared desire. The Corinthian wants more.

“More,” he demands, chasing after Dream’s mouth. The Dream King holds up a hand, and shakes his head.

“Not until you agree to stay,” Dream says, his tone brokering no room for argument. “No more unsolicited trips to the Waking. Promise me, Corinthian.”

The Corinthian does not need to verbally hear the words “stay with me”, to know this is what Dream actually means. Dream will always speak in riddles and never plainly. It’s fine. The Corinthian had long ago learned to read between the lines.

“I will,” he promises, and finds that he means it. “I’m yours forever, Dream. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

Dream pulls the Corinthian into another kiss, and as they continue to explore one another’s bodies, the Corinthian feels his memories of the Waking grow more hazy instead of more clear, like Dream had promised. But he cannot find himself to care, not when he finally, finally has the King of Dreams just the way he wants him.

The Corinthian does not notice the small smirk that crosses Dream’s face as they embrace. Nor does he notice the small tendrils of dreamstuff that make their way down the line of his back. He does not know he has bound himself, willingly, to the Dream King for all eternity. But perhaps, even if he did, he would not care, too drunk on an eons long affection finally returned.

“I’m very glad to hear that Corinthian,” Dream says. “Welcome home, beloved.”

#corintheus #dream x corinthian #corinthian x morpheus #the corinthian #dream of the endless #sandman fanfic #I am apparently incapable of writing corintheus fluff #but one day!!!!#seiya answers #seiya writes #seiya writes corintheus

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