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#dream x fem!reader
hunny-beann · 4 months
Note
I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.
Rest Now, Wife, Mine
Dream of the Endless x f!Reader
Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3
Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.
Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.
Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)
Word Count: 1,298
Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.
That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.
She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.
That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.
Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.
"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"
The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.
Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?
He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.
She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.
Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.
Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.
He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.
What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.
He could never love another.
As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.
Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.
What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.
"You are tired, my dear."
The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,
"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."
He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.
"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."
The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.
He frowned.
"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"
She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.
"No, of course not, I just..."
The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.
"You just what, dearest?"
He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.
"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."
Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).
"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"
He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.
"Poor thing,"
Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.
"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"
He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.
"Rest now, wife, mine."
He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,
"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."
If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.
And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.
After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.
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writethrough · 2 months
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Hello! I just finished reading your Morpheus fics and I absolutely love them! So I thought about requesting something, too. Morpheus x reader where reader is feeling well and calls for him. They spend all evening togheter after a long time. reading togheter, watching some movies, talking and sharing their thoughts... until Morpheus notice it’s really late, almost midnight, and it’s time for reader to sleep, but she doesn't want to ‘cause Morpheus is always busy and she misses spending time with him, even whe she's asleep lately he was never there. Morpheus feels guilty and promises her he’ll be more present, especially in her dreams. A nice ending where he stays with her until she falls asleep, and him appearing in her dreams as he promised? Thank you 💖
A Homemade Remedy
(Morpheus x Female Reader)
Synopsis: After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.
Warnings: Minor language
Word Count: 815
A/N: Stop two on the apology tour. I'm so sorry this has taken so long! And I want to thank you profusely for your patience. And for sending the request in. I really hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!
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Normally, you wouldn’t bother Morpheus with this. He had more important things to deal with instead. But you felt as if Death would appear at any moment, and all you wanted was some comfort from your boyfriend. 
You pressed the ruby pendant he gifted you to your heart, croaking his name. 
“Beloved?” 
You blinked, seemingly slower than usual. 
“Hi,” you whispered, covers pulled to your chin. 
He took you in for a few moments, brows pinched slightly. You could only tell he was worried because of how long you’d known him. 
“You are unwell.” 
“S’just a—” A coughing fit started, only ceasing when he handed you your glass of water. “Just a cold.” 
Between the tissues piled in the trash beside your bed, the bottle of medication without its lid, and the two additional blankets on top of you, he knew that wasn’t the case. You’d been here much longer than a few hours. 
“Why did you not call for me when your ailment began?” 
And there it was, the look you were dreading the more you prolonged summoning him. You’re not even sure he’s aware of his “kicked puppy” look. 
You shrugged, pulling the covers just below your nose.  
Morpheus made no sound—as graceful and Endless as ever. The only indication he had moved was the lifting of your blankets as he slid in behind you. 
“Turn around, my love.” 
You were far too weak and needy to refuse. 
Settling with your head on his thigh, he rested a hand on your hair. 
“I am here now, and I will take care of you,” he said. “Whatever you may need, I will gather.” 
“Just this.” Your voice barely carried on a whisper. 
“Then here I shall remain.” 
Morpheus always spoke softer than you would expect while still containing all the authority in the universe, but it sounded even softer. It held gentleness—kindness—a quality that said, “You are precious to me.” 
“What about the Dreaming?” you asked, eyes closed. 
“In Lucienne’s capable hands,” he replied without hesitation. You were so considerate of him and his duties, for once, he wished you’d be selfish.  
“What if she needs you?” Even as you said this, your arm settled over his lap. 
“She has looked after my realm much longer than you will be ill.” 
You squeezed him as best you could at the reminder. You didn’t like to think about what had happened to him. Though you met long after that, it hurt to know someone could do that to another being—human or not. 
Morpheus had reassured you he had healed. Much of that having to do with you. 
“Could you read to me, then?” you asked. 
A book appeared in seconds, his voice matching perfectly to the cadence of the lines. It didn’t matter what he was saying, hearing him speak in that hypnotic rumble was enough. Even the flipping of the page didn’t distract you. He was captivating from the first word. 
He’d read two chapters when your stomach growled. 
“When did you last eat?” His smile was soft, thumb grazing your arm. 
You shrugged, not wanting to be scolded. 
“Can you eat?” 
You weren’t sure if it was how shitty you were feeling, how tired you were, or how helpless you felt, but his words went straight to your heart. 
He considered how you might feel. He wasn’t pushing you to eat, but asking if you thought you could stomach anything. He wanted to help, but not at the risk of causing you more discomfort. 
You nodded, keeping your eyes closed so he wouldn’t see them watering. 
“Here.” He helped you sit up before picking up the bowl of broth that had manifested on the nightstand. 
You went to grab it, but he tutted, picking the spoon up himself and bringing it to your mouth. 
“I can feed myself,” you said after swallowing. 
“I know,” he said. “Please. Let me help you.” 
You ate the next spoonful without complaint, and soon, the bowl was empty. 
“Thank you,” you mummered, head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. 
“It’s late, you must rest,” he whispered into your hair. 
You shook your head, and tried to snuggle yourself closer to him, like if you planted yourself firmly enough, he wouldn’t be able to leave. 
“Haven’t seen you in forever,” you mumbled. “Don’t wanna waste it.” 
Guilt flooded Morpheus. He knew he had been neglectful of you, but you had been so patient with him. You were the embodiment of understanding—and he had taken advantage of that. 
“Go to sleep, dear one. I will meet you in the Dreaming.” His lips pressed to your crown. 
You hummed, head growing heavy. 
And when your eyes opened, there he was, holding you as you laid in his chambers. 
He smiled fondly, brushing your chin with his knuckles. 
“What shall we do now, my love?” 
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Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust
If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 
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the-darklings · 1 year
Text
──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐗𝐈.]
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summary: "We begin... with a spin."
pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader
wc: 16.2k+
warnings: gonna break your heart one last time, Dream is still Dream (reluctantly affectionate)
notes: all good things come to an end : )
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Rule the World (Odyssey Version) by Take That
1:32 ───|────── 4:55
part one | series masterlist | ao3 |
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PART ELEVEN: BEYOND.
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“Who are you?” 
“I am Destiny of the Endless.”
“And who am I?”
“You are the one who wanders. You will do so until the universe ceases.”
“Why?”
“Because you have been cursed to do so. Because you chose no shackles, no roots. You wished, instead, to roam free. And now you shall.”
“Why?”
“Because all is as it is meant to be, Wanderer.”
“Why?”
“Because you wished to break your destiny. And so you did.”
.
“I knew a lad called Jack Constantine once.”
Book in hand, you step around Hob, licking the dryness from your lips. Copper lingers on your tongue. “Same family.”
He perks up at your subdued comment, arms unfolding from where they rested over his chest.
“Nah, really?” He mulls it over for a moment. “Wait, that actually makes a lot of sense. He was a bit of a twat.”
Johanna sniffs. “Piss off.”
Late evening sun streams through the blinds, bathing the dark wood office in syrupy, golden-brown light. Books and notes lay scattered everywhere you look, each inch utilised fully. Johanna leans her hands on the table, squinting at the grimoire laid open. She’s been chewing on her lip for the last five minutes. That doesn’t bode well. 
“No can do,” Hob replies, hitching his shoulders with a proud smile. “I’m here on strict business.”
Dropping the grimoire Johanna requested on the table, you shoot them both a look, “Are you two done?” Your attention swivels towards the necromancer despite your trembling hands, finding her delicate features pinched. “Can you find Jed Walker?”
She huffs, her brows folding inwards. “You’re asking me to find a needle in a haystack of seven billion, give or take. I’m not a bloody witch. I don’t just cook up locator spells. I deal with demons and the dead.”
Bracing your hand on the table to mirror her, you soften your voice, “I understand what I’m asking for.”
“I’ll need time to figure this out,” she admits tightly. 
Private displeasure colours Johanna’s voice, and you nod in defeat. It’s hard to admit any shortcoming, much less one rooted in one’s power. While Johanna may be more powerful than most mortals can comprehend, it’s not power without gaps. She’s still so young. But, as with all Constantines you’ve known, there now sparks that fiery, stubborn drive, seemingly blazing from within. This is a challenge and one she’s set to overcome. 
“What about the other?” she poses abruptly, turning several pages in the grimoire. Her index finger trails over the yellowed pages, glued to another spell. “Do you have anything of theirs? You said this one has magical protection?”
“It’s conjecture,” you clarify. “But he’s been able to skirt me for over a century, so I’m left with one conclusion.”
Hob whistles under his breath. “A century? Bloody hell, you must be eager to find him.”
Memories flutter to life, birds caught in flight. A tall man with blonde hair, a dangerous smirk, and your blurred reflection dancing across his shaded glasses. Nothing more than a twisted memory that’s all fangs and blood. To file this want under ‘eager’ would be insulting. This specific longing comes with both elation and dread. Horror at what you might discover. This ignorance is no more than a flimsy illusion. You’ve spent the last century following Corinthian’s every crime, experiencing it as if he executed them on you instead. 
“I can’t promise this will work,” Johanna continues, oblivious to your internal struggle. Your attention snags on Hob, who is watching you with deep creases denting his forehead. There’s old, shrewd awareness in how he examines your rumpled appearance. “At best, I might be able to cloak you. Again, locator spells are not my speciality. At all.”
You clear your mind, pushing away from the wooden fixture. “ What if I gave up an object? It’s old, full of history. Would I be able to form a tether?
You’ve seen such spells performed—you know they’re possible and incredibly advantageous when done right. 
Johanna glares down at the grimoire for a beat, silent. Her chin lifts suddenly, her narrow-eyed stare harsh and biting. There’s digging intensity to how she inspects your appearance from head to toe, and you bristle at the probing check. 
“You look like shit,” she says bluntly. “I don’t think you should be doing any tethering to anything.”
Your teeth gnash. “Can it be done, Constantine?”
Tension barbs through the room. Hob sighs, making you even more defensive because you can instinctively tell it’s about to become two against one. “We’re not daft, you know,” he says quietly. “It’s clear you’re unwell.” 
Your eyes flutter shut. Forcing your jaw to relax, you mull over the most palatable way you can deliver this information to them. It’s clear from their wonderfully human determination that they’re not going to let this drop until they have more context. 
“Fine.” Filling your lungs with oxygen, you hold your breath, gathering yourself. How difficult it is to draw oxygen should probably concern you. “Remember how I told you I’ve been experimenting? Well, I’ve exercised a degree of control over the curse. The travelling part, at least. I can force it to take me places I want, but it… costs me. Physically.”
Johanna folds her arms over her chest, humming in consideration. “Cost, eh? How steep?”
These damn Constantines. 
The setting sun warms your cool cheek, and some invisible restraint in you loosens your invisible cast dropping. “Internal injuries. Bleeding, tissue tears, organ failure, haemorrhaging. It heals, but slowly. Excruciatingly so. If I abuse controlled travel too often, I can pass out. Slip into a temporary coma until internal damage heals. Vomiting, mobility issues, dizziness, hallucinations—take your pick.”
You’re avoiding direct eye contact, but utter silence encompasses the office when your words sink in. 
Hob gathers himself first. “Jesus Christ.”
Shrugging, you say, “It’s fine. I’m getting better at controlling it.”
“Which part of that is fine?” Hob’s voice is barbed with horror. “None of that is fine.”
You wish neither of them were looking at you like this. Rattled, aghast, alight with shades of sadness. It's so much easier to handle this when no one is standing there reminding you of the ugly aspects of this curse.
“Can it be done?” you bite out. 
Johanna wipes emotion from her face, stretching out her hand, palm up. “Show me this item.” 
Without a preamble, you hand her the roughened wooden figurine. Your stomach roils at the sight. Desperately your fingers clench and unclench in the folds of your coat, blunt nails biting into your palms. The urge to snatch back the figurine is bone-breaking. 
Johanna rolls the item in her hand, scanning it with eyes that see far beyond its material form. She’s digging deeper into what history—power—the object contains. “It might work,” she muses pensively. “I’ll cloak you, but the spell will have a time limit. The further away you are from me, the shorter the timer will be. Whoever it is won’t see you coming, but I can’t promise you the exact location.”
The grim determination bubbling in your gut answers: “Just get me as close as you can.”
.
Swirls of colours and shapes; loud, jarring noises, spinning, spinning, nails raking through the skin—
“Make it stop, make it stop—”
It doesn’t stop. There’s only colour—sound—sound—breaking—madness. And it doesn’t stop for a very long time.
.
A thousand reflections stare back at you. 
“Coward.”
“Traitor.”
“Murderer.”
“I’m not,” you gasp. “I’m not.”
Do it, do it, do it—
A rat scurries past your arm, disappearing into the hoary mist, and you flinch. 
No matter how loudly you plead for forgiveness, for relief, there’s only endless despair and glass cutting into your palms. 
.
Flower fields. Sunshine. Peace. 
A tall, pale, looming man with twin stars for eyes stands over you. 
“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”
No reply.
But for the first time since you’ve woken up as you: hope. 
A beautiful dream. 
.
“Who did you say you were again?”
Mighty, leathery wings block out whatever light there once was, the newcomer’s pale hair shining like a halo around their fair face. 
“I am an angel, here to save you,” a benign, soothing voice coos, followed by fingers tracing over your bloodied jawline. “If only you help me.”
“By doing what?” you slur, blood and sweat trickling down your split brow. “By spying on the Endless? On Dream?”
“Do not fear. I alone can protect you. Your purpose is to merely… observe.”
Demons hiss and growl around you, and you flex your newly healed jaw. They broke it four times in succession. So much for talking back. Scorched dirt beneath your feet stains with your congealing blood, and you chuckle. The croaking sound grows in volume until your throat bleeds. 
It’s answer enough. 
Your bones quiver under the sheer power of Morningstar’s displeasure. “Take this one away. Make sure there’s nothing left.”
The demons make good on that order. 
.
Johanna pierces the world map with a letter opener, every inch cutting in with deliberate slowness. Candles flicker, settling after the spell, and you taste the magick at the back of your throat. 
“Georgia, U-S of A,” the necromancer announces, loosening a breath.
“Great,” Hob chirps, his arm brushing against yours. “That’s just brilliant. It’s across the bloody ocean, that is.”
Johnna shoots him a venomous look. “Oh, sorry. Were you hoping for a nice trip down Brighton?”
Hob stares at her blankly in the shadowed office. He turns your way slowly as if mutely asking do you believe her?
You do. You’ve dealt with enough Constantines in your lifetime to ensure their sarcastic, surly nature is no longer a shock. 
“You’re a highly unpleasant woman,” Hob concludes, though no real malice lingers in his tone or bearing. 
“Thank you, Constantine,” you cut in before they can break into another bickering session. “There’s one more thing.”
The brunette rolls her eyes. “Is there now?”
“Magdalene’s Grimoire,” you begin deliberately. Johanna freezes. “I want you to locate it and retrieve it for me.”
Your companions speak simultaneously:
“Why?”
“You believe it has something to do with your curse, don’t you?” 
Ignoring Hob’s incredulous outcry, you nod towards Johanna. Pain twinges suddenly in your core, and your breaths slow until you get a grip on yourself. But it’s slow. Numbing pain laps at your senses for a debilitating minute until it clears once more. The curse wants to drag you in a thousand directions, but you don’t permit it. 
You right yourself again, swallowing over your dry tongue. Your temples throb insistently. 
“I think it’s old—older than people assume and has spells that no mortal should have access to.” You lean towards the map, examining the range letter opener has offered. You’ve been to Georgia several times previously, but long ago. “Roderick Burgess might have gotten lucky, but the mere fact there’s a spell there that can help capture an Endless… I find that curious. Unlike what your records indicate, he was not the first Magus, but he was the last. This means the grimoire has to be with his family—likely his son—or someone relating to them. I’ll pay you.”
Somehow. 
“Are you joking?” Johanna scoffs immediately. “One of the most powerful grimoires known to humanity? I’ll find it for free. Imagine what I could learn from it.”
Your stare glides to her unhurriedly, fixing on her fair complexion. She visibly falters at whatever she spies in your cool regard. “Within reason… and for the good of humanity. Scout's honour.”
Hob squints at her. “You’re not even American.”
“Shut… up,” she mutters, shooting him another nasty look. 
You tug your coat free when it catches on a chair, slotting your hands in your pockets. “Thank you, both of you. Is the spell active?”
“Yes, but it won’t hold long at this distance,” Johanna warns. 
Your attention latches on the wooden figurine on her desk. It’s wrong—it feels so wrong to have it out of your grasp, to feel nothing more than Dream’s pebble warming your hand. You try not to think about him now or your last conversation together. Instead, you focus on the thread woven around your heart, tugging you away and over the ocean. 
“I won’t be back for at least two weeks, but see what you can discover in that time,” you tell them. 
Hob balances on his heels, presenting Johanna with a charming grin. “Well, I guess I ought to help you.”
The sorceress scowls. “I don’t need your help.”
“Everyone needs help,” Hob counters.
Levelling them with a fond look, you wordlessly head towards the door while they verbally spar. Your hand briefly braces your chest, feeling the unsteady thud beneath your palm. You’ve been jumping too often, too far, and too rapidly for your body to recover. But just a bit more. Then you can rest. 
You’re almost at the end of a darkened hallway before an urgent voice sounds behind you, accompanied by brisk strides in your direction. 
“Wait, wait…”
You’re not even slightly surprised to hear Hob behind you or feel his fingers wrap around your bicep. Street light filtering through the window paints over his taut features, creating a pronounced tale of two sides. Light and dark. Young and older than anyone can comprehend. Quite fitting for both of you. 
“Take me with you,” Hob says, imploring edge laced beneath his lighthearted manner. It pinches your heart. “You know what they say: two immortals are better than one, eh?”
If things were less dangerous, less volatile, if it were anyone but Corinthian, you would take him up on his offer. You would love nothing more—two immortals going on an adventure. Hob has known the same horrors, similar hardships, countless failures and highs. Together you’re as effortless as breathing, as familiar as old friends meeting after years apart. You’ve felt that kinship with him from the first moment you locked eyes in that overcrowded pub, sitting there soaked and miserable. 
But this is the Corinthian. Even if Hob is the one human with nothing to fear from the nightmare, this goes much deeper. Soul deep. Perhaps deeper still. This conflict is between you, Corinthian, and Dream. It’s always been a tale of three parts, interwoven into a single, unbreakable thread. 
“Hob Gadling, you are a gem,” you say softly, placing your hand on his warm cheek. An unsure smile forms across his mouth. “And maybe one day I will. But this… this is something I must do alone.”
“You don’t, though. You realise that, right?” Hob argues softly, fiercely. “There are people who care about you.”
You think about the Dreaming and its occupants, all the mortals and other beings you’ve encountered in your many travels. Friends and companions who have told you to visit, stay, there is always a place for you here even when they knew you could do no such thing without putting them at risk. You think about the Endless—your becoming and undoing.
Your hand slips away from him, your faint smile hollow. “I do. Two weeks.”
.
The Endless are formidable individually. The raw power holding this universe together, given form and reason. Their realms are kingdoms that put others to shame. You’ve visited plenty by now to draw the unsurprising conclusion. Dealing with each sibling is an exercise in patience, tact, and subtle respect in differing shades. 
Sitting in the same room as seven of them makes you want to crawl out of your skin and run for the hills. You’ve met them individually in the past. There’ve been a handful of occasions where you encountered several simultaneously. But never all together in the same room like this. 
They’re terrible and wonderful and so suffocating in their casual existence that every instinct in your mortal body warns you of one indisputable truth:
“I shouldn’t be here.”
Death shakes her head promptly, giving you a stern glance. “Nonsense, sweetheart,” she asserts. “You’re right where you belong. Isn’t that right, Destiny?”
Destiny of the Endless sits unmoving, only his mouth visible behind his flowing, beige hood. His hand rests on the Book of Destiny, pale but relaxed. Whenever Destiny does move, the chain connecting him to the book rattles through your bones. 
He hosts these family gatherings, though all Endless have equal prominence in this universe and its continuous function. Despite it, from your angle, it appears as if he’s the one at the head of the table. Oldest and certainly the most overwhelming in his sheer aura. It took him a simple swipe of his hand for an additional chair to materialise at the table for you. For his fluttering, eerily silent attendants to lay a plate and glass on either side of you. 
“All is as it should be, sister,” Destiny replies, his voice whistling wind through dry leaves. 
Your pulse beats against the curve of your throat. If your stomach weren’t already empty, you would likely be throwing up right now. 
Death grins brightly, pleased. Her smile is no doubt meant to be reassuring when she angles back towards you. “See, that’s a yes.”
Your words form clumsily on your tongue, “I didn’t mean to impose—”
Sitting on your left, Delirium tightens her grip on you, cutting your words short. Her chair had been dragged towards yours, your arms linked despite the uncomfortable angle. The scent of leather, sweat, and burnt sugar bites into your nostrils. Today, her hair keeps flickering between bright orange, yellow, and neon green. 
“Uhm… impose?” she mutters. Her words flow so swiftly that it’s an effort to keep up. “No, no, imposing to be imposed on, and, um, imposing is impolite. What is impolite?”
“To impose would be impolite, yes.” Your words come out measured. “Like that man. You went into his home.”
“Well, he, well, he wasn’t a very good man.” Delirium’s voice thins, frustration biting into each syllable. On your other side, you sense Destruction turning in your direction. Tension blinks out from Delirium’s lovely features, her different-coloured eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “I made him see colours. Really pretty, pretty colours.”
Yes, she certainly did. You’re hopeful the man received a swift death via villagers, others having no doubt concluded him mad or consorting with devils and demons. As if to illustrate her point, Delirium lightly positions her thumb and index fingers together, forming an O. She giggles, blowing air, and much to your unspoken wonder, multicoloured bubbles float through the air. Some remain bubbles, bloated and bobbing. Others shape into animals and birds. 
“I am not an Endless,” you remind, feeling foolish for doing so. As if anyone could mistake you for one of them. Your eyes briefly skim over each sibling, shifting in your seat for the dozenth time. “I don’t think it’s right for me to be here.”
Despair, sitting opposite to you beside her twin, hoods her eyes. The metal hook on her finger digs into her chin. Blood bubbles beneath the honed metal. “Yes. Mortal.”
Her whispering, thin voice blankets you, and your insides ball up. 
Destruction chuckles on your right, deep and echoing in the dining hall, smoothing over your suddenly chilled, clammy skin. “Sister, do you meet many mortals who live over three hundred years? I see no harm in you being here, dear Wanderer.”
Desire stretches indolently in their seat, candlelight washing over their indescribable features. Scoff ripples from their chest, their chin dropping in their open palm. 
“Right, is anyone else opposed to Wanderer being here?” Desire voices, sweeping a challenging look around the table. When no one speaks, Desire shrugs, arms open at their sides. “See, sweet thing, relax. Have some fruit.”
They pointedly push the fruit basket closer towards you. The fruit does look tasty, and you hadn’t eaten in two days, but don't think you can stomach it right now. 
Dream casts an inpatient glance Destiny’s way. In extravagant robes, Dream Lord appears the most disgruntled with being summoned. “Why are we here, Destiny? You do not call upon the family without a cause.”
Destiny’s answer comes predictably vague: “You are here, brother Dream. That is all.”
Despite your unease to be dropped into their family meeting, annoyance pinpricks you at his words. Always the same ambiguity, always what the book dictates, and never what someone might feel. Destiny is not human. It would be unfair for you to hold any of the Endless to mortal standards. For you to expect them to comprehend sentiments that are so far out of their reach. 
It doesn’t take away from the sting, though. At least this time, the curse was mindful enough to drop you inside Destiny’s stronghold inside the Garden of Forking Ways. Last time, you found yourself helplessly lost inside the boundless maze for weeks. Destiny did nothing to aid you—it was as it was meant to be. You associate him most closely with that wild animal fear and sheer helplessness. You can’t help it. 
“Why the rush?” Desire calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “Eager to get back to another failed relationship, sweet Dream?”
Shadows coil around Dream Lord’s feet, seated between Delirium and Death. You silently question if it’s a purposeful partition. 
“That’s enough from you, sibling,” Dream warns. 
Desire’s lovely mouth spreads into a quick, beaming smile; all teeth bared and tawny eyes aglow with sadistic amusement. A predator having scented blood. “Oh, come on now,” they coo. “We all come here to talk as a family; even lovely Wanderer is present. Yet you think yourself above everything. Your realm, your rules—we’ve heard it all before! You’re oh so dull.”
Despair slumps beside her twin, face downcast. “Dull. Yes, rather dull indeed.”
“And are you perhaps bored, my sibling?” Dream returns, a slight pinch to his imperious features. His voice remains perfectly aloof. From this outsider’s perspective, it’s easy to see why Desire views Dream as supercilious. “Did you run out of adequate ways to amuse yourself?”
Momentarily swallowing down your fear, you slant your head over to one side, “Dream.”
Dream pauses at your drawn, anxious expression. The ignited stars dim, draining away, but the hard slant of his broad shoulders doesn’t drop. 
“Oh, don’t run to his defence.” Desire’s voice is just edging on goading. Their nails tap on the wooden table when they cross their legs, leaning towards you. “This is quite characteristic. Surely you find him just as insufferable as the rest of us?”
Death’s retort is whip-sharp. “Desire. Shut up.”
Others around the table appear calmly accepting. They’ve seen this fight play out in the past a thousand times. While you’ve never demanded reasons for the bad blood between the two Endless, it’s clear it runs deep, a problem stemming from innumerable centuries long since past. And very clearly not a situation for you to get involved in. You’re not naive or arrogant enough to assume you can fix their problems for them. Neither Desire nor Dream seems particularly invested in settling anything, either. 
But inciting like this is dangerous. Desire has never attempted to spark arguments involving you in the past, no matter how spiteful the mood. 
As if mentally arriving at the same conclusion, Destruction’s rumbling words vocalise your unspoken plea: “Do not involve Wanderer in your quarrel, sibling.”
Delirium curls into herself, her legs raised on the chair and pressing into her chest. Her hold on your arm turns near painful. “Arguing, fights, it's not nice, but it… um… that’s not where Desire is supposed to be. It’s um… it’s somewhere else. It’s in Dreams.”
You’re not sure how to decode Delirium’s words. You once believed them to be mindless babbles. Then some phrases would come back to haunt you months or even years later. Whatever caused the turn in Delirium from Delight gave her foresight no other Endless seemed to possess. Save, perhaps, Destiny. 
Desire’s fingers curl beneath their pointed chin. Desire surveys you, then his older brother, with a feline's slowness. “Well, well. Aren’t you two sweet on each other?”
This time, the darkness curling beneath Dream’s chair becomes physical. Visible even to your mortal eye. 
“Cease your poisonous stipulations,” Dream says icily. 
Desire scoffs, dropping back in their seat with a graceful, seductive stretch. Heat encompasses your being, pouring in the crevices of your skin. Desire’s effect is all but impossible to escape this close. 
“Is it not my function, oh dear brother of mine, to sow desire in the hearts of all living things, mortal and otherwise? What are they without their desires?” The Endless straightens just as swiftly, their elbows digging back into the table while they eye you, chin back in their hands. Something cruel and fragmented, endlessly amused, slides through those golden irises—an intent you’ve never seen Desire direct your way until now. “Come, my sweet, doesn’t it get dreary? All those mortals set on your suffering? Surely you have missed the sweet, loving embrace of Desire? I could make you desire anything… even a kiss.”
And then…
The world melts away, and everything once making up your being bows and folds under the power pressing into you. You’re but a child. You are atoms. And you’ve forgotten how terrible their power could be once unleashed. 
There’s only cocoon and darkness and golden, glowing eyes beckoning you, warming you, bewitching you. Your limbs are too far away to control, your will dulled into thin, worn paper—brittle to the touch. Your skin is too hot, and the air in your lungs is insufficient. It feels so good. So good, so good—
Even a kiss, even a kiss, even a kiss—
Your limbs are on strings, tugged in one direction, then another. Distantly, horror chokes you, and you scratch at the walls inside your mind, clawing for some semblance of control, but there’s only a sultry embrace of desire. 
“Desire, no—”
“Stop—”
“Enough.” Something inside your chest trembles at that single word’s sheer, unbridled power. Your numbed senses are clear but not enough to free you. You're trapped, caught on the verge of awareness. “You dare.”
“Now, now, dear Dream. Did I get under your skin? It’s but jest. Lighten up.”
Few stars emerge in your blackened vision, guiding you closer. They urge you forward to safety, but you’re unable to move. It feels good to be here, so good and hot. There’s no pain, only desire and pleasure—
“We do not control mortals, sister-brother. Their will is their own. Release Wanderer.”
Destiny’s tepid command shreds through the heated, desire-filled veil. You return to yourself with a choked gasp, snapping into your tiny mortal body with a painful lurch. It’s overwhelming. Every sense was smothered to such a degree, it’s as if everything is twice as heightened now. 
“Are you insane?” Death snaps. You’ve never heard her this angry until now. There’s always a smile on her face and a playful gleam in her eyes. But you’re too busy shaking to be afraid. “What was that, huh?”
Your hands convulse. Bloody indents line your palms. Your nails must have cut into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You fought. But what can a mortal do when faced with an Endless? You were erased, folded down to nothing. You are nothing. 
Voices melt into one. You’re too shaken to separate them. When some semblance of awareness settles in, you realise how awful these… seconds, minutes, or hours have truly been. 
You’re half straddling Destruction, arms half wrapped around his broad shoulders, your mouth near his neck. Horror liquefies your limbs, rooting you in your spot. Too much—it’s too much. Humiliation leaves you immobile, but Destruction rests his hand between your shoulder blades, his gaze kind and concerned beneath his bunched eyebrows.  
“Are you well?” he asks quietly over the clamour behind you.
Your chin wobbles. Shame lashes your skin. You’ve been used as no more than a puppet to be thrown at him. On him. Like some mindless whore. A witless worshipper, begging for their chosen god’s favour, not understanding what they’re inviting. How the gods are never kind. How they only use and break for their amusement. 
Even though Destruction doesn’t appear angry, you can’t stop yourself from croaking out, “I… I… I’m sorry.”
His sympathetic frown is visible even beneath his thick beard. He cradles you to him but with gentleness indicating how fragile he believes you to be at this moment. “Do not fret. It is quite alright, my friend.”
“Can you…?”
Your words splinter. The burn behind your eyes turns painfully prickly. Destruction’s handsome face creases further. He nods mutely, carefully manoeuvring your body to a standing position. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, steading and hot through your thin robes. His fingers fold slightly, protectively. Your gratitude for his unprompted support is immeasurable. An anchor while your knees shake.
“It was a joke,” Desire calls out over his siblings. “Desire is who I am. It’s all in good fun. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?”
Your shoulders spasm, your back still to them. Your insides churn at the prompt, and you’re unsure if you’re about to be sick, cry, or some horrific mix of both. 
You thought… you were foolish enough to assume… 
How many times have you landed in the Threshold, thrilled to see Desire? How often have you shared jokes, laughs, and peaceful evenings and mornings in the twilight land? What other touch or embrace have you known over three centuries that didn’t end in agony but Desire’s? You’ve told them numerous times you have no preference for any sibling in their family—that you cherish Desire’s company as much as others, perhaps even more so. Because with Desire, you could remember what it’s like to be human—to want and need. 
You had foolishly believed you were friends. 
Now you see the truth. You feel the horrible, numbing heat licking across your flesh—the aftermath of this ultimate betrayal. Desire’s power shimmers on the outskirts of your mind, ready to devour you anew. Rob you of reason and choice. 
“I—you… I trusted you.” Everyone falls silent at your frayed words, scraping through the eerily quiet dining hall. When you rotate clumsily towards them, you look only at Desire. You avoid others. Your humiliation burns too brightly for anything else. “You… just made me feel like nothing. You degraded me. I’m no more than a thing for you to play with.”
Some foreign emotion spasms briefly through Desire’s face—gone in a blink. Their answering smile is so patronising a deeper crack splinters your chest. “Wanderer. Be a good sport. It was simply a bit of fun.”
A bit of fun. 
Desire can be fickle, and it can be cruel. But you’ve forgotten just how cruel they could be. To Desire, this is no more than a practical joke. You’re only a silly mortal. No wonder you don’t get the joke. You’ll get over yourself soon enough. But no one else is laughing or smiling, either. Even Despair in your peripheral remains hunched and mute, typically first to her twin’s defence. 
“Fun.” 
The word shatters something between you the second you voice it. You can see it on Desire’s face. The realisation settling in. There is no regret, no apology. Nor will there ever be. It’s clear from the dismissive curl of Desire’s mouth. They don’t see anything wrong with what just transpired. 
It makes it worse. So much worse. 
“Wanderer, brother Destruction. Sit.”
Destiny’s perfectly poised voice shreds whatever little composure you’ve been clinging onto. 
“You knew, didn’t you?” The accusation rips through the room like wildfire. You shake off Destructions comforting touch, your lungs filling with air and spilling out fire. “You knew Desire was going to do that. That’s the only reason why you permitted me to stay. Do I not suffer every day? Or do you enjoy making me into your little plaything? Have I not been humiliated enough for your amusement?”
Destiny says nothing. 
You shove away from the table with disgust. Your feet tangle before you command your sluggish limbs. Death rise after you immediately.
“Wanderer—”
You flinch away from her extended hand, from all of them. You don’t care what invisible line you may be overstepping. “Don’t touch me,” you spit out. “I never should have stayed.”
Your feet carry you several paces until another, more resounding voice calls, “Wanderer.”
A part of you doesn’t understand why you pause or look back. Dream’s gaze sears into you. Yet you can’t untangle a single thing you see burrowed there. He’s standing as well, his hand flat on the table. Foolishly, you hope he will come after you, say something in defence of you. But Dream is Dream. He’s likely just as clueless about why you took this so badly as others. Perhaps the fury you see glimmering in those starlit eyes is but your imagination. Another pretty lie your sentimental, human heart would be all too happy to convince yourself of. 
He doesn’t move. You pivot away, your shoulders hunching. 
Desire’s chuckle licks at your back, silky and smooth. “So tense, that one. It was only a bit of fun.” 
No one laughs. No one responds. 
Only a bit of fun.
“Take me away, take me away from here,” you sob, stumbling into a shadowed hallway.
For once, the curse listens. 
.
Rivulets of sweat drip down your back. The puddle of blood at your feet is starting to go dark. These observations float from somewhere beyond the dense fog shrouding your mind. It’s so difficult to focus. Wiping across your sweaty forehead, you lean on your arm, breathing deeply. You’ve forgotten how suffocating the humidity could be here in Georgia. 
Mercifully only heat-blurred fields surround you. The vast, open stretch of highway is all you see on either side.
Lights dance in your vision, your ears ringing. Maybe it’s the curse and not the heat. Your limbs obey no command, barely held together by sheer stubborn will to follow the tether pulsing in your chest. The spell’s power is already dimming. You have no choice but to jump. This is your only chance to get to Corinthian first. 
“Come on… come on… I don’t obey you.” Your nails scrape on the heated metal, your head hanging low. “You obey me.”
Your tongue rolls the words clumsily. No matter how much you swallow, more saliva floods your mouth, causing your stomach to cramp. Your knees beg to fold beneath you. Lay down in this tall grass and wait for the inevitable that will never arrive. It’s foolish. Death is far from the worst thing that can befall an individual. It was the very first lesson you learned. 
Digging deeper, you claw and yank on the curse’s power, squeezing it until the bleed becomes physical. Until your limbs rip from one place to another. 
When you settle back into your body, skin stinging, your knees hit the ground immediately. Blood dribbles past your lips, your sweat-covered forehead pressing into the soft dirt. You pant loudly, blood trickling past your cracked lips. Pain is coming from everywhere. Sounds mangle into each other when you attempt to raise your head. Your stomach protests viciously, leaving you dry heaving. Nothing but more blood escapes your body. 
A hotel sign. It’s the first thing you register. You’ve landed near one, practically on it. Your fingernails dig into the dirt as you stumble into a standing position. The tether Johanna’s spell has threaded pulses harder and faster in your chest. There. Corinthian has to be there. 
Cradling your sore midsection, you painstakingly make your way towards the hotel. Relentless heat melts your already nonexistent strength reserves down to nothing. 
Several people glance in your direction when you push through the reception door. In this climate, your attire certainly raises eyebrows, but you remind yourself there’s no way Corinthian can know you’re here this time.
“Can I help you?”
You stumble to a stop, breathing heavily. A man with a tiny hat and a nametag reading Fun Land sits behind a table, his annoyance palpable while he stares at you expectedly. It takes considerable effort to gather the strength required to speak. 
“No.”
You turn to go. 
“Hey, woah! This is a convention-only area. Can’t you read?”
Following the direction the man is gesturing wildly towards, you find a board reading Cereal Convention printed in large, bold letters. The rest blurs, sweat stinging your eyes. You work your jaw. 
“No,” you repeat.
The man’s petulant glare would be comical if you were in a better mood. 
“You can’t go here,” he declares stiffly. 
Your fingers curl weakly, convulsing at your sides. You didn’t come this far to be precluded from finding Corinthian by a goddamn sign. By a cereal convention. Cereal convention. Cereal. At the back of your foggy mind, something nags at you. 
Your brows dip inwards, your gaze slipping towards the man. His bravado stutters, washing away from him. He shrinks backwards the longer you stare at him, his throat working on a gulp. Your lips compress into a stiffer line. Someone brushes behind you, stepping up to the table. Fun Land exhales in audible relief, serving them, pretending he’s too busy to pay you further notice. 
Fine. You’ll find another way. 
Stalking outside, you keep to the shade, leaning into the wall for support. It doesn’t take long to track down the delivery entrance. Every hotel has one, and depending on the time of day, they’re not the best protected. Like right now, in the afternoon, after housekeeping has gone home, leaving only a handful of staff on standby.  
He’s in here somewhere. The hotel corridors melt together. Beige walls and stale, humid air. They warp, smearing together into nothing but sensation. You’re a rat caught inside yet another maze. Sickness churns inside your stomach. 
And then, impossibly, you see him. 
A pale head of golden hair illuminated by washed-out light, his back to you while he strolls ahead and away from you. 
“Corinthian.”
The raspy exhale ricochets. The nightmare stops dead in his tracks. Until this precise second, he wasn’t there, wasn’t real, but with his name, the nightmare becomes a reality. Corridor may separate you, but the spell winks out, confirming your suspicion. 
Aircon buzzes through the long, otherwise vacant corridor. Your heart thunders in your ears. 
Then, Corinthian speaks: “You shouldn’t be here.”
A sob wells in your chest at his drawling, smooth words. Nearly two hundred years you haven’t seen him. Over a century seeking him out, having to live with the ramifications of atrocities he’s been inflicting. And now, here, it’s just you and him. You’re not sure which sensation pulses in you stronger: anger or relief. 
Your mouth quivers, your tongue dragging across your dry, cracked lips. “I searched for you.”
“I know you did,” he replies listlessly, his back still facing you. It hurts, because you were right. He’s been knowingly avoiding you. As if reading your mind, Corinthian raises his hand, and your stomach shrivels when you spot your ring firm on his finger. “I have this to thank you for, but it would seem you found me out anyway. Shame.”
The ring. Of course. 
A small piece of humanity for you to hold. I told you, they’re not all bad. I hope this can help you experience it.
And experience it he did. An essential part of yourself put away in that ring must have given him a sense of your presence nearby. He used your own present against you. 
The Corinthian finally turns to face you, all but unchanged except for his modern hairstyle and refined round shades. You want to say so many things to him that your tongue refuses to work altogether. A great chasm yawns between you, and you have no idea how to bridge it.
“What are you doing?” you ask at last. 
There’s no smirk or sly grin in sight. He’s as closed off as you. Despite his seeming indifference, you read the subtle tension lining Corinthian’s broad shoulders. He can hide from others, trick and lie to them if he pleases, but never you. 
“What I was made to do,” he replies tightly. 
“No. You’re hurting them.”
Corinthian’s jaw locks. “He made me in your image, Wanderer. Now I’m making the world in mine. I thought you’d be proud.”
A disbelieving scoff rips from your chest, burning your windpipe as if acid washed down it. “Proud?” you parrot. “You’re killing them.”
Your harsh condemnation dissolves whatever neutrality remains in the space between you. Prior uncertainty dashes beneath a strain of a century dripping in the blood of innocents. 
“Did they do less to you?” Corinthian’s voice is all nightmare; honeyed, cruel, and seductive. His head tilts playfully to one side. “How often did they torture you? Shun you? Sought to eradicate you? Still you defend them as you did him.”
Your sight muddies, and it takes a shake of your head to clear it. “You can’t punish all for crimes of a few.”
A snarl twists Corinthian’s mouth, his feet carrying him towards you in a measured, prowling stalk. 
“A few? They’re all the same: greedy, selfish, and cruel. The curse reveals. I reflect. They don’t change; they only learn how to hide better.” He pauses, licking his lips as he considers you. Something seems to occur to him, a faint laugh vibrating from his chest. “Do you have any idea how many times I stopped them? Punished them for hurting you? New Orleans in ‘31. Berlin in ‘43. Vienna in ‘55. Seoul in ‘62. Moscow in ‘71. Bangkok in ‘89. New York in ‘00. Why those were all me and then some. I was there. I’ve always been there.”
Each date punctures through you like a stray bullet. Honed and whetted for the single purpose of hurting you in a different sense. A fragmented nightmare. You’ve chased a mirage while the nightmare has spent a century mirroring your steps, keeping you safe from the shadows whenever your paths crossed unbeknownst to you. 
There’ve been times—
You thought you’d caught glimpses of him in decades-long since lost. But unfailingly, you’ve only ever found empty alleyways when you pursued these figments. Eventually, you stopped chasing these mirages. The pain was too great. But it’s never been just your overreactive imagination, has it? He was real. He was there. 
He’s spent a century killing indiscriminately while also keeping you safe. You want to scream at him for the evil he’s committed and cry from sheer relief he hasn’t forgotten you. 
“Then why hide?” you croak, stumbling closer. “Why not speak with me?”
“Oh, come now.” Corinthian clicks his tongue. He turns away, nostrils flaring, then turns to face you again. “You know why. You would have asked me to come back, and for you, I would have.”
His features blur, your words barely audible, “And would that have been so terrible?”
“Come back to what? Dream’s ball and chain?” Acidic words, despite their softness. His rage deflates instantly, a huffing laugh escaping him as if he’s surprised himself with the lapse. “You think he gives a fuck about either of us? He threw you out. You left.”
Indignation flares in your chest. “Not by choice.”
“Then you should have taken me with you. But you left me. All you ever do is play by Dream’s rules. I figured out how to leave the Dreaming back during Dreamfall, but I stayed. Wonder why.”
You have no response to that. You’re left standing there, gaping. For you. Who else? He had no one else there; no other reason to stay other than your presence. 
“So that’s it,” you begin shakily, your words rasping, sniffling. “All this because you believe I chose Dream and his rules over you?”
“What did you do to yourself?”
Corinthian’s voice has gone dreadfully quiet. Fiercely unhappy. Too late, you realise you’re sniffling because blood is dripping from your nose. Clumsily, you swipe the back of your hand over your chin. Crevices in your skin crack with dried blood. 
“It was never a choice, don’t you get it?” you whisper, your words pouring out thick and wet with emotion. “It’s always been you. Always. I was terrified the journey would destroy you. Had I known, I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat.”
Corinthian closes the remaining distance between you, grasping you by the forearms. It’s such a relief to have him near again. You sag into him, trembling. You try to raise your hand to wipe beneath your nose, but your limbs are too stiff to obey. 
“What did you do, Wanderer?” He sounds furious while he examines you, as if only now realising the extent of your deterioration. “What did you do yourself?”
“I had to get to you first,” you tell him. Blood smudges the lapels of his jacket where you grasp it. “Please, you have to stop. They don’t deserve this, Cori.”
He looks disgusted at your words, but your legs fail you before he responds. Corinthian catches you before your knees hit the carpeted ground.
“It hurts.” His words come out hissing, sharp with incredulity. “Why does it hurt?”
Your chin jolts upwards, your bloodstained smile trembling around the edges. “You know why. I’m inside of you. You can’t escape that.”
Neither of you can. You’ll carry him in you until your bitter end, as he will carry you until his. 
“Shh. I got you.” Corinthian tucks you into him when a whimper of pain escapes you. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’m going to set us both free.”
And then, through horror, darkness closes in. 
.
Motion. 
“Who is that?”
A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. 
“Oh, yes. This one is with me. Won’t you be a good girl and share that tidbit with others, so we don’t have any… complications. I appreciate it.”
“But I thought—”
Arms tighten around you possessively—the air coils, suffused with thick tension. 
“Good Doctor. No one touches this one. Or they'll have to deal with me. Personally.” 
Footsteps retreat near instantly, the atmosphere lightening in the absence. You’re resting on something velvety. You have no idea where you are, but you know you’re safe. 
“Cori…”
“Shh, I’ll be back before you know it.” Cold glass touches your lips. When your lips part, soothing water slips into your awaiting mouth. After several mouthfuls, the glass disappears. A cool hand traces your face. “Things will be different real soon, you’ll see.”
You reach blindly, seeking. “Don’t go.”
“Oh, don’t worry. After I’m done, we’ll have a Dreaming of our own.”
Then nothing. 
.
Anchor around your ankle. Plunging, bitter cold water, pressure, pressure, a hand reaching uselessly towards the shrinking light above, then nothing—
.
Ropes bite into your wrists, the pyre is tall, and the crowd jeers with open delight. They throw things at you; some hit, some miss. You don’t know if you hate them or pity them. Both, neither. Sahsin’s face is disgusted, filled with hate. She has positioned herself in front of the throbbing mob. When the fire comes, Sahsin enjoys it. When the fire comes, the agony devours all else—
.
Blank page. 
Blank page.
Blank page.
And beneath, a faint, pulsing power of Endless Destruction. 
“My lord.”
Urgent footsteps head in his direction. Morpheus raises his head, his grip on the tome in his hands white-knuckled.
Loyal Lucienne and a rather familiar figure a step behind her. 
“I apologise for leaving, Lord,” Fiddler’s Green begins, flustered but entreating. “But you must help. He’s killing them.”
.
You awake with a pained gasp. Your head swims, your fingers clumsily seeking purchase. 
An eerily silent hotel room greets you when your hiccuping gasps assuage into a steadier rhythm.  Corinthian is nowhere in sight. You wrench yourself from beneath the comfortable covers, stumbling. You grab your carelessly thrown coat on your way out, shrugging on the familiar weight. At least your vision is clearer than earlier. Pain remains undiminished by your fretful rest. 
The hotel is unnaturally quiet—your nerves prickle. Nothing good ever comes from places where there should be life, being devoid of it. Unease pools in your stomach while you stumble through winding corridors. Where did everyone go?
Outside, twilight has settled over the landscape. Your pace increases, your palms dragging across the walls to keep moving.
You find the reception empty, the convention table barren. Except…
“—a black mirror, made to reflect everything about itself that humanity will not confront. But look at you—”
Your body turns to stone mid-step. There’s no confusing that voice with anyone—the absolute power infused into every deliberate, low syllable. 
With a start, you realise your knees have bent, your coat pooling around your ankles. You’re scared. Dream wasn’t supposed to be here. Not when you’re not there to mediate. Clawing at the walls, you force your legs forward. Your bones quake in protest with each step. 
Shoving into the conference room, you find the room full. Hotel patrons sit in neat rows, their heads bowed and eyes closed. 
Dream of the Endless and the nightmare make for a lonely, contrasting sight on the stage: dark and light. 
Corinthian’s small smile is scornful. “I’m not the problem, Dream.”
“You’re right,” Dream Lord concurs quietly. “This is my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”
Dream’s arm lifts in the air between them. You lurch forward, stumbling up the stairs.
“No!”
You let out a dry sob, pushing past Dream to get to the nightmare. The contours of Corinthian’s face have begun dissolving, singed red at the edges, disappearing back into the sand he was fashioned from. 
Corinthian chokes out a breath, grinning widely, grasping your hand. “Hey, trouble—”
His hand in yours crumbles. A wounded, animalistic sound rips from you. There’s a futile, blind attempt to grasp onto his body as it slips between your fingers. Through your arms, and then out of your life. 
“No! No, no.”
Your knees hit the stage so hard the sound is a thunderclap through the hushed room. Sand lays in a golden pile at your feet. A tiny skull containing teeth for eyes is all that remains and—
Your ring. Corinthian’s faint warmth still lingers on the metal. Wet dots fall into the sand. Only then do you register the tears dripping down your face. Followed by speckles of blood. It seems appropriate that, in the end, he should have your blood also. 
Featherlight touch on your shoulder only registers after Dream’s voice floats through your agony: “Wanderer. I am sorry.”
Perhaps under different circumstances, you would have examined this moment closer—Dream Lord, an Endless, on his knees beside you, his voice impossibly soft. Instead, you want to disappear. 
“I know,” you sob, shaking, half leaning towards the ground. If it weren’t for Dream’s grip on you, there’s no doubt in your mind you would collapse right where Corinthian has. Something mangles inside you, far beyond physical. “I know you had to stop him. I… to me… he… to me he’s…”
Everything. 
Dragging your hands desperately through the slippery grains, you gather them in a smaller circle. 
“What are you doing?” 
Dream’s question is uncharacteristically gentle. There’s deeper awareness that a wrong question could shatter you completely. 
Past your raw vocal cords, you only manage: “I—I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him again.”
You’re not sure if you’re coherent enough for him to understand. Each word borders on a pained howl. Black is rapidly devouring your fading vision. Too much. It’s too much. You’re about to explode. Collapse like the nightmare did, utterly undone. 
Several scarlet drops drip into the sand, and Dream sucks in a deep breath beside you, his grip on you tightening. 
“You’re bleeding.”
He doesn’t get a response. Blackness devours you whole. 
.
Recovery takes three weeks. You’re unconscious for the first two. Another week crawls by until you can move again. 
The simple fact that it takes you so long to become functional only confirms that Dream brought back a broken soul into the Dreaming. You’ve survived limbs being severed. Past incidents where your skin was peeled off. But this goes beyond skin deep. 
You haven’t travelled since the incident. The mere thought induces a fresh dose of cramping terror through your system. The curse, wounded and worn, has retreated. Dormant. For now. 
“You mourn him.”
You jump in your spot. Your fingers close protectively over the ring in your hand. Dream steps into your line of sight, his coat fluttering around his lithe figure. His face is slanted away from you, observing the waterfront. You try to hide your surprise at seeing him. 
He’s been… distant these last three weeks. Not cold, but…
Sad. 
There’s no other way to delineate the forlorn stares that seem to follow you. 
“I’m not an idiot. What Corinthian was doing was horrific,” you say dully, tugging on stray blades of grass. 
Fiddler’s Green has returned, taking his post once more. It should make you happy. He apologised personally for his departure, but you understood his reasonings for leaving. Without his creator, Fiddler’s Green wanted to experience what it was like to be human. What right do you have to judge him for such a wish? Yet memory is a cruel mistress—the recollections of the one whose absence is so torturously felt are everywhere. 
“He took lives that were never his to take,” you continue. Anger bites into controlled syllables. “Not to mention his plan to have Rose become the new heart of the Dreaming. Did he realise the universe would have collapsed in on itself? He had to be stopped.”
It was what had awoken you back at the hotel. It’s only later that you learned the extent of Corinthian’s plan. Rose Walker was the vortex. Given enough time, she would have become the centre of the Dreaming, drawing dreams and nightmares to her. And collapsed this universe as a result. Dream would have killed her—it’s the only time the Endless are permitted to take mortal life, if they’re an active threat—but Rose’s grandmother had stepped in last second. A woman who should have been the vortex if it hadn’t been for Dream’s capture. If the sleeping sickness that swept through the waking world had not robbed her of life. 
“But you mourn him still.”
Unequivocal insistence. Your composed mask cracks around the edges. Lying would be pointless. 
“Of course I do,” you exhale, pained. 
Dream’s fingers curl at his side, but he doesn’t look your way. “This was my oversight, Wanderer. Do not bear the guilt for those lost.”
Trees ripple and shiver in the faint breeze. Waterfall roars to your left, while to your right, the dark shores of the Dreaming reflect sunshine like the darkest obsidian. You consider the Dream Lord while he watches the beach with a stony expression. Utterly closed off—same old Dream. 
Deflating, you struggle back onto your feet. 
“Their blood is on my hands, too,” you say, turning to go.
Guilt will follow you no matter what he maintains. 
“Are you departing once more?” he calls out, halting you in your tracks. He’s scrutinising you when you peek his way. “You are not fit for travel.”
Offering a throwaway smile, you shrug. “I’m a rubber ball. I bounce back quickly.”
“Stay until Dreamfall if the curse permits it.” Dream pauses after his brisk request, catching himself with a swallow. Awkwardness permeates the air. “It would mean a great deal to others if you celebrated with them.”
You loosen a reluctant breath, squinting at him. “Do you want me to stay?”
Something shifts between you at the forthright prompt; tightening, warming. Surprise collects in your chest at the fact you dared to ask. But you’re tired of feigning, acting as if you’re both not caught in some bizarre impasse. 
Dream’s lips part softly, his answer a mere exhale, “I would.” 
Light, tingling sensation webs through your chest. You hadn’t expected that. “Under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Answer me something, Morpheus. Truthfully.” With deliberate slowness, you step into his bubble, so close Dream’s lashes flutter as he peers at you. There’s such unbearable weight to his gaze. There’s always been a raging storm brewing there, but this is more. Heavier. “Corinthian was convinced that you made him in my image. Is it true?”
Your jaw sets stubbornly, the nightmare’s name stinging your tongue. Dream’s eyes roam over your features, seeking some unknown truth. You’re not asking about physical similarities, but you permit him this moment. Because he digs deeper, because your heart is in your throat when Dream finally settles on his truth: 
“While I did not recognise it as such at the time, I believe I did.”
You’ve known, been aware of this fact for centuries. Since Corinthian shared his hypothesis, you’ve been unable to scrub it from your mind. But to have confirmation from Dream himself paints many past events in a different light. 
“I made you poorly then… a black mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.” Recalling Dream Lord’s words, you stagger backwards, your mind whirling with thoughts. A startled gasp pushes from your lungs, your attention snapping back to the Endless. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces slot perfectly into place. “I had it all wrong. Corinthian was a manifestation of your anger for what humanity was doing to me. He was to be your mirror, your teacher, so humanity may choose to be better. So they may learn to overcome their darkest impulses.”
Staggering backwards, words escape you in a torrent, “But it went wrong, didn’t it? You gave him too much of that anger—the fury of an Endless and reckless, unshakable defiance of a cursed mortal. You created a masterpiece by giving him too much. By making something that is so much more than just a nightmare. A perfect hybrid between an Endless and a mortal.”
Dream says nothing in response. It’s the only confirmation you need. 
In the end, you stay. But this time, you’re the one who avoids the Dream Lord. 
.
“You’re always welcome in my chambers, sweet Dream. It’s lovely to see you. Can I get you anything you desire?”
Morpheus strolls through the glossy scarlet chambers of his younger sibling’s stronghold. Desire of the Endless curls with each word spoken, stretching indolently across their seat. Loving malice lines planes of Desire’s face, enigmatic and magnetic as their name suggests. 
Dream moves closer. “I desire nothing from you, save some answers.”
Desire pouts, sitting up, their hands in their lap. “Oh? Do tell. I love a test.”
He’s never understood Desire’s love for games. Petulant slights or wish to inflict harm. To manipulate and use. Once…
He supposes it no longer matters what their relationship might have been once—too many years arc between them: too much history and bad blood. Morpheus prowls through the gallery, briefly flicking his attention towards his family’s sigils. 
“Unity Kincaid should have been the vortex of this age. But someone saw fit to take advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex and I would be left with no choice but to kill it.”
A mock gasp escapes Desire’s ruby-painted lips. Their golden eyes blow wide open, startled and innocent, while they monitor Dream. 
“Are you implying I meddled with affairs of another Endless domain, dear brother?” Desire’s pout wobbles when Dream doesn't respond. The faux innocence melts away in a blink, leaving behind nothing but conniving malice, peering back through a hooded stare. “Oh, fine, was I really that obvious?” 
A brief, cool smile touches Dream’s lips, his words coming out frosty, “No. You covered your tracks remarkably well.”
“High praise, coming from you,” Desire tuts, grinning sharply. 
“What did you intend?” Dream heads towards the other Endless unhurriedly. “That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”
“This time, it almost worked.” Desire’s grin stretches wider, pleased. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since my little wrangle with lovely Wanderer. How is she, by the way? Still coughing up blood?”
His younger sibling adjusts their position once again, sitting up straighter. Bracing for a fight, Morpheus realises belatedly. This is a sore spot that always elicits a reaction. But this time, Morpheus will not be giving his sibling the satisfaction. He’s observed Desire’s and Wanderer’s relationship—or what little of it remains—long enough to draw his own conclusions. 
“You do not fool me,” Morpheus begins deliberately. The corners of Desire’s mouth tilt downwards slightly. “I know your fickle heart, my sibling, and you resent the fact Wanderer forgives others but not you. But you fail to understand why that same forgiveness has not been extended your way. We of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.”
“Then perhaps I shall pay Wanderer a visit in person.” Desire drags their thumbs over the edge of their lips, sly in their wily deliberation. “I do, after all, wear your face now. But unlike you, I will endeavour to be a far more… devoted lover.”
Wrath kindles in his chest. Morpheus knows. He’s read about your and Desire’s encounter at the shores of the Dreaming while he was locked away. 
He shakes his head. “Still, you fail to see. We are their dolls, Desire. You and Despair, and even poor Delirium, will do well to remember that.”
Desire presents him with a dismissive shrug, their nose wrinkling. “Maybe I don’t understand.”
“No, perhaps you do not,” Morpheus agrees softly. Circling, he slips behind his younger sibling. Desire’s head wrenches backwards, their gulping gasp nearly lost when Morpheus twists the other Endless’ head back, peering down at the blonde coldly. “Then let me tell you something you will understand: mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. You lay a finger on Wanderer, and I will make every circle of Hell feel like kindness by comparison. Do you believe yourself to be strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”
Desire forces down a gulp, their breath stuttering at the creeping wrath, “No.”
“No, indeed.” Dropping his hold, Morpheus straightens, his jaw rigid as he stalks away, adding, “Remember this next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs.”
And then he’s gone. 
.
Translucent light kisses your shoulders as you stroll towards the looming stronghold, your hands buried deep in your pockets. Your fingers have turned numb from how tightly you’re clenching them. The impressive, stone-carved statues depicting the seven Endless guide your way. Well, six. You pause by Destruction, the only one facing away, unlike his siblings.
You don’t dare to stray from the path. The likelihood of finding your way out if you get lost in the maze again is non-existent. 
The ruler of this sprawling, eerily silent domain greets you at the foot of the marble staircase. 
“I welcome thee, Wanderer, Roamer of Realms, into my stronghold.”
Even at this distance, Destiny looms so impossibly tall, some forgotten human instinct sparks in a warning.
Undeterred, you halt before the imposing figure, bowing your head. “I greet and thank you for your welcome, Destiny of the Endless.”
Only Destiny’s lower face is visible behind his billowing hood when he speaks in a crackling rasp, “You have arrived here for a single purpose.”
No ifs or buts about it—he knows better than that, the book slotted neatly under his arm. 
“And here I was, ready to ask if you’re surprised to see me,” you shoot back jokingly. Destiny does not smile or construe entertainment from your words. You sober, your attempt at levity now abandoned. “Guess we both know the answer to that. I’m here to share some theories if you have time to spare.”
To your surprise, Destiny slips past you, heading in the direction you came from, deeper into his garden. His footsteps make no sound. His cloak whispers behind him, shimmering in the dim, muted light. On equal footing, you have to crane your head to see him. The devouring dark pooling around the contours of his pallid face reveals nothing beneath the hood, even at your angle.  
“You seek to ask questions for which there are scarce few answers, Wanderer,” Destiny says resolutely. “You are far older than most mortals can comprehend, yet your heart remains stubbornly mortal.”
You set out after him at once, your invisible hackles rising. “In what way? My defiance?”
Destiny does not falter, his pace remaining as steady as lapping waves. “That is not for me to judge.”
The garden is vast and a marvel to behold, but the temperature lingers on that unnatural lukewarmness that gives away how unorthodox this place is. The light is perpetually unfading, gauzy in the corners of your eyes. It’s a confusing, strangely profound place. It’s as if Destiny’s realm contains everything all at once but also nothing. A place of futures to come, lives unlived, and wilted pasts. There’s no point in attempting to unravel it. There’s only uncanny strangeness you’ve come to accept. 
“You will spend time in the realm of each sibling—you will dream, despair, desire, destroy, delight and otherwise, and, eventually, die—but you were his from the very first page, and only he will read how your story comes out, a long time from now.”
Destiny doesn’t pause at your reiteration. There’s no indication he even heard you, but you’re a step behind him. A thousand years of trying to get answers have taught you he would not be entertaining you if this wasn’t heading somewhere. The thought of another scrap of information sets your heart thudding. Haven’t you spent the last two centuries piecing things together? Attempting to confirm your speculations before you came here to confront him with them. Your past attempts may have ended in uniform failure, but today is different. You can feel it.
“You told me that when we first met,” you continue, keeping your nonchalance. You’re no more than a child to him despite your millennia of existence—this is the only way to get him to take you seriously. “When I awoke in your garden, alone and terrified, with no clue as to who I was or what had happened to me. I’ve been thinking about those words ever since.”
Destiny slows, then stops altogether. Your heart climbs to your throat. You've paused by his statue, standing at the foot of polished, pale stone. Destiny’s cloak whispers when he hinges in your direction, anticipatory. He already knows what you will say.
“It was you. You’re the one who did this to me.” 
The clarity that clangs through you with those words shakes your knees. Sucking down more oxygen, you add, “Not directly, maybe. I was cursed by mortal power. This much I know for certain. But you made it possible. You led me to this by the hand. Why?”
And like a dozen times you’ve tried in the past, you expect dismissal, or worse, silence with which he’s punished you often. Destiny would disappear from your sight altogether. His patience and unwillingness to give you clear answers are unmatched. 
But not this time. 
“Because you broke your destiny. Tore it to shreds. Painted it red.” Destiny readjusts the heavy book under his arm. “So you were allocated a new path. One of hardship and pain, but one that may lead you to salvation. Should you tread it mindfully.”
The roar in your head is so loud you barely understand Destiny’s low, equable words. 
“You could have told me this a thousand years ago,” you choke out. 
He remains a perfectly barren canvas, but in the tension pulsing between you, there now whispers a hint of displeasure. Sweat trickles down your nape. 
“I did,” he replies flatly. “But you did not listen. You instead raged and ran, and what came of it?”
Madness and despair. 
Stumbling forward, you bite out, “Why? What did I do? What could prompt eternity of this.”
All this pain for crimes you couldn’t so much as recall. Whatever it was, have you not paid back your dues? Have you not suffered enough to make up for your past?
“Forgetting is the only kindness you’ve ever been spared. Or ever will be. Treat it as such.” Cold needles your spine, and a terrible urge to fold yourself into a ball gnaws on your bones. Destiny’s pitch does not change, nor does his bearing, but it doesn’t need to. “In your quest to break, you reformed into something else.”
Your force down saliva, near choking. “Into what?”
“Challenger of the Unknown.”
Silence envelopes the garden. There’s little to no sound in the Garden of the Forking Ways to begin with, but those words blanket everything. Not even the wind seems to stir. No blade of grass moves. This means something; it means something crucial, but you have no idea what.
“What does that mean?” you beseech. Destiny doesn’t move, nor does he answer. Your voice cracks. “Please just tell me.”
But you already know it’s a lost battle. This is all too familiar—the cold, pitiless silence, utterly unmoved. He’s given you all he’s intended to. 
“I used to think you hated me.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this. Destiny won’t care. Your feet carry you past him. Briefly, you pause by Dream’s statue, then keep going. “More than anyone else in this universe. It wasn’t until Destruction left that I finally understood your position more. It is a burden to know what others don’t but be unable to speak that knowledge.”
There’s no doubt in your mind that Destiny knows where Destruction is. 
The Prodigal’s statue pierces your vision, making you squint into the hazy skies above. Your following words slip out, each lilting with breezy ease: “But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive you for letting Dream rot in a cage for a hundred years when you knew it was coming, when you could have warned him somehow. I know you have a duty, but he’s your brother. However, indirectly you let Dreaming decay—my home. You let humanity suffer. I figured it out, by the way, why it’s a loophole. Why my book exists in the library, but nothing in other dimensions does. Why I can sleep in the Dreaming but not anywhere else.” 
Destiny stands stock still, his bony arms close to his chest, clutching his book. He displays no outward reaction as per usual. It’s a relief to voice your thoughts. You’re utterly terrified of him, but he’s right—your heart is still stubbornly human, as brazen as the Fates accused you of being.  
“Because if my curse was the will of the Endless, if my path—whatever it is—is so tightly bound to your family, then it only makes sense, right?” You’re not looking for a response because Destiny will offer none. “The Dreaming is the only place where aspects of each Endless manifest. It’s a loophole. The curse goes dormant when I’m in the Dreaming because the only thing more powerful than the curse is the combined power of the seven Endless.”
You’ve waited to voice your conclusions for so long, it’s surreal to have spoken them aloud. You might fear Destiny, but not enough to continue as a coward. He can deny it, but you’re confident that’s the reason. It’s the only thing that makes sense. 
“My siblings have gained much from their companionship with you, Wanderer,” Destiny admits. You quell a flinch despite Destiny’s voice retaining its monotonous quality. “But you and I are antitheses of one another. My brother would not be who he is now had he not tasted that helplessness and sorrow. You are the ink and the quilt with which Dream will write his story.”
His words make little to no sense. Dream is… Dream. What could ever influence him? Much less you. He’s changed since his imprisonment, it’s true, but doubt still nestles in your heart. Had the situation with Gault not proven how those attempts to change come undone in a blink? Despite it, Dream is trying, and it’s more than enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight; not any profound version, anyway. 
You wipe across your face, schooling yourself. “I won’t stop trying to save them even if I’m punished further,” you assert. “I’ll always fight for humanity.”
Even over his hood, you feel your gazes clash, burning into one another. 
“I would expect no less,” Destiny assures. 
Squaring your shoulders, you’re halfway between dimensions before a thought occurs to you. “Just one more thing before I go.”
Destiny is as grave as usual, entirely inhuman in his foreboding silence while he waits. 
“It can be broken, can’t it?” you say, scrutinising him closely. “The curse. There are weak spots in its design.”
“That is for you to discover,” he replies, much to your surprise. It’s closer to a yes than a no. “But pay heed. This path will not be forgiving should you wish to pursue it.”
Icy trepidation creeps its claws down your spine. You don’t permit it to show. 
“Nothing in my life has been forgiving,” you say curtly. “I bid you good fortune, Destiny.”
“And I you, Roamer of Realms.”
.
“Happy Dreamfall.”
Slanting your head, you let your chin dig into your shoulder, smiling. You hadn’t seen the Dream Lord since you snuck back into the Dreaming, seemingly no one having noticed your momentary departure. Normally, there are someone’s eyes on you. But only Dream can sense your appearance and disappearance inside the Dreaming itself. So you’ve taken advantage of his absence. You’ve had too much on your mind since your return from visiting Destiny to seek him out yet. 
“Happy Dreamfall,” you say to the Endless, who comes to a halt beside you. “May Fates smile upon you, Dream Lord. And may your realm of dreams be aplenty.”
Behind you, the castle grounds buzz with activity. At long last, things were returning to normal. This is the first cause of celebration these dreams and nightmares had in over a century. Back home, safe and in a place where they belong. You hugged and drank sweet nectars with plenty, smiling and touching hands. Or claws. But it didn’t take long to slip away and settle out here. 
Perched on the castle staircase, you must make for an odd sight, but Gatekeepers straighten back into their patrol positions with Dream’s arrival. You had left the castle to enjoy the darkening skies, the dreams swelling and blinking in the pitch-black canvas, ready for their journey. The Gatekeepers had clustered close, and you had spent a while simply chatting. You’ve missed them. It had been harrowing to witness them turn to stone while Dream was missing.  
“Would you walk with me?” Dream asks.
Wetting your lips, you stand. “Sure.”
Without a preamble, Dream sets out. His gait hovers on ponderous this evening. You’ve gotten used to more hurried, curt interactions between you. Invisible tension stretched tautly. Will-o'-the-wisps dance and sway through the humming evening air. Flowers in your path bloom in different colours, fairy dust sprinkled through the air. You continue on the faintly lit path cutting through the heart of the Dreaming without a word. 
“Are you well?”
Dream’s sudden question shakes you from your peaceful stupor. 
“Busy, but good,” you answer. “And you?”
Dream halts abruptly. You pass him, then do the same, gazing back at him, confused. 
Dream Lord’s pale eyes dig into you. They steal from you, and they give more than words ever could. But this once, Dream also uses his words: “I wish for us to talk as we once did.”
Anxiety pangs through your belly. You hadn’t expected him to point it out. Your lips compress into a stiff, bloodless line. It would be a bald-faced lie to insist something hasn’t broken between you. Corinthian’s unmaking has driven a wedge between you that neither can overcome. The nightmare had to be stopped, but it doesn’t take away from the grief festering in your chest. Most believe grief is an absence, but you’ve found the exact opposite is true. 
Grief is a presence that should be there but isn’t. It’s a weight of memories, of possibilities, of life unlived. Corinthian has become your phantom limb, his absence invisible to all but you as is the bleed.
“We’re getting there,” you say lastly.
His wild hair covers his eyes when his head lowers. Subconsciously, you find yourself stepping towards him, folding your hand around his. Cool and silky to the touch. A breath, and then you feel Dream’s hand curl around yours. He doesn’t move otherwise, muscles sitting in rigid mass beneath his pale skin. 
“Dream,” you call his name gently. “You’re trying. I see that. We’re finding new ways. Now tell me why we’re here.”
Because this path is familiar to you as your own hands. Just over the dark treeline lays the beach. The docks you’ve visited every night in his absence. This path had been your pilgrimage once, and now he’s returned. The fingers folded around yours tighten. Dream wordlessly tugs you with him until soft sand cushions the soles of your shoes. 
“It is a night where anything is possible,” he says knowingly. 
Your heartbeat jumps when he leads you towards the pier, wood creaking under your combined weight. “What are you doing?”
Dream draws you both to a stop halfway across the pier, something close to mischief sparking in his gaze. It’s so bizarrely unwonted you do a doubletake.
“Giving you my present.”
With that, he strides closer. Your mouth dries when he gently curls his arm around your waist. He raises your joint hands, spinning you to the side slowly. Clumsily, your legs obey, your breaths escaping uneven gulps. 
“Are we dancing, Dream Lord?”
Dream bows his head closer to yours, his voice velvet, “We are dancing in starlight, you and I.”
It’s then you feel the tingling, reverent whisper of his power over your body. Your eyes widen when you see faint light needling the sturdy fabric, as if your coat has become no more than a window into the raw cosmos. Galaxies swirl in raging spirals across the once-dark material. Your head snaps to the side while Dream continues spinning you unhurriedly. Your coat is shrinking, reshaping to fit your body even better than it did up to this point. 
“Dream this is…”
The coat settles into actuality. Sparkling dust spills from the material when you shift. Your overcoat has shrunk to kiss just above your knees. More fitted but no less comfortable. And then there’s the way it glimmers like a precious jewel whenever moonlight hits it. 
“I had hoped to give you something more… fitting,” Dream murmurs. You look up at him, your noses almost touching. “It is only right for the one who roams the stars to wear a coat of pure starlight.”
“Thank you,” you whisper shakily. “It’s beautiful.”
Beautiful doesn’t do it justice. The midnight material shimmers with your movement, liquid starlight captured into tangible fabric, and your throat closes up as you examine it further. Dream slips his arm from your waist. He lifts your joint hands, comfortable in his own, and lays a light kiss on your hand.
“It becomes you,” he compliments quietly, releasing you. “Now… it’s time.”
Your brows crease. “Time for what?”
Was this not it? Thick emotions still coat your tongue, lodged deep in your windpipe. But Dream only devours you with quiet intensity. 
Above your head, dreams start raining down in shining beams of light.
“We begin… with a spin.”
Your heart stutters to a stop. Water roars behind Dream, wild spray flying through the air. The faint drizzle beats against your face, leaving you gaping. 
“Dream. I…”
He extends his hand your way. “There is no Dreaming without Wanderer Island. Should you wish it, I would like us to create another.”
Your features crumble, the ball in your throat robbing you of your voice. Indecision holds you captive—on the one hand, you want nothing more, but on another, you’re too afraid. What if it all ends up in the same place? You watching yet another part of you sink into those inky depths. 
But there’s something cautious, near vulnerable, to be found in Dream’s guarded features. It’s an effort for him to open up, but you can see the unsure way his hand hangs in offering between you. He’s bracing himself for rejection, for you to leave him alone on this pier. 
You grasp his proffered hand, fingers winding cautiously around his. Dream’s shoulders slump slightly from their rigid slant, relaxing at the contact. 
He guides you to an all too familiar position. You standing at the edge of the pier, him behind you, a hand on your shoulder. A disconcerting sensation of deja vu falls over you. 
“Describe it to me,” he prompts.
Black, foreboding waters of the Dreaming spin in ferocious whirlpools. Dream’s elegant hand pierces your line of sight, primed for creation. 
“There’s a small island.” Your voice trembles. You haven’t forgotten anything, down to the exact words used. You conjure the Wanderer Island in your mind’s eye as it once stood; brilliant and shining. The visual blooms bold and alive in your mind. “The grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And it tastes like sour apples.”
Dream’s hand on your shoulder squeezes lightly. Same amusement, even centuries later. You’re both changed, but a familiar outline of an island starts taking shape on the horizon. 
“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, and trees never shed leaves.” It’s pouring from your mouth now, an avalanche of memory. You’ve missed the island so dearly, and details from five centuries ago come readily. “The sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. And…”
Your heart bleeds, fresh wounds gushing. But you push on because it’s not about you.
“And an old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive. Because not everyone has a family, and not everyone needs a lover, but everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. Only…”
Dream’s lips tickle over the shell of your ear. “… hope.”
And then stillness. 
The water settles in a gurgling slosh. In the distance, a patch of land once again floats. There to welcome new dreamers. Wanderer Island blurs. The heel of your hand presses over your eyes, overwhelmed. 
Blindly, you tug on Dream’s coat; a mute request. Between one inhale and the next, wood underfoot is exchanged for sand. 
Everything is the same down to the last blade of grass and tree composition. Either your vision was so clear Dream could pluck every last detail from your mind or…
Or he remembered the Island with the same clarity as you. 
You sink to your knees. Sand crumbles around your digits when you dip them into the pliable sand. 
“Hi. There you are.”
Nothing, then…
Grass sprouts unprompted around your hand, tiny daisies twining across your thumb. Utterly impossible, yet tonight, here, anything is possible. A choked laugh escapes you. Your cheeks ache from your beaming smile. 
“She’s missed you,” Dream reveals quietly.
Your head lifts in surprise. You stroke the miniature, perfect blooms. “I missed you too.”
With another tickle, the flowers and grass retreat, shrinking into the golden beach. Several moments pass by until you unearth the strength to stand. Dream’s profile greets you. He’s turned away, giving you privacy, but subtle uncertainty lines his features. Sensing your attention, he peers towards you, then past you. 
“Thank you,” you breathe. Despite your verbal gratitude, Dream’s attention remains fixed over your shoulder. “What?”
His low words reach you over the sound of lapping waves. “Are you not going to say hello to an old friend?”
You follow his line of sight. Behind you, at a distance with falling dreams as his backdrop, stands a tall, pale-haired figure. 
Everything inside you falls very, very quiet—all those tumultuous emotions freeze. Your head snaps back to Dream with a stifled gulp. It can’t be real. Surely it’s some mirage, a feedback loop, a ghost conjured from your love for the now-gone nightmare. 
But Dream only slants his head in a marginal, affirming nod. You dare to peek behind you once more. There he stands. The nightmare. Not a twisted joke. 
Your feet carry you towards him without conscious thought; half-running, half-walking, stumbling all the while. Corinthian stands with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders in a slight slouch. His nude-coloured slacks and white shirt shine like beacons in the pale moonlight. Round shades cover his eyes, his blonde strands fluttering in the light breeze. 
He's a figment. Not quite tangible until your body crashes into him, your arms scrambling to hold onto him. “Oh, God!”
Dry, humoured, “Not quite.”
Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can feel it, if not hear it. A pained, whining sound bubbles up in your throat, gripping him closer.
“I… how…” You wrench yourself back, a horrible thought occurring. You search his handsome features. That infuriating smirk always curling his mouth is absent. “Do you remember me?”
Corinthian stands there, not moving, with no real emotion on display, either. Your heart sinks. Could it be that he—
Dull throb flares across your forehead. He’s flicked you—
A wide, toothy grin stretches across Corinthian’s mouth. “Gotcha.”
With a choked laugh, you punch his shoulder, hugging him close with a wide smile. “I hate you.”
A pleased hum. This time, the nightmare’s arm settles around you. “Hate you more.”
You’re not sure how long you both stand there. When you do part, reluctance keeps your hand on him. Fingertips connecting to some part of him. Remembering the Dream Lord you came here with—who gave you this, his present—you find Dream no longer on the beach. Or anywhere in sight. He’s given you privacy and time. Your heart softens further.  
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
Corinthian’s subdued question tugs your attention back towards him. You almost wish he didn’t remind you. Because now you’re faced with the reality that even though he’s been returned to you, there’s much you both need to overcome and fix. That losing him did not magically wipe away the wrongs he’s done. If you hope to return to the relationship you once had, you’ll need time.
You consider him for a moment. 
“You’re always forgiven,” you tell him honestly. 
Standing in the moonglow, you pretend you don’t notice how something coiled tightly seems to loosen inside him at your reassurance. Instead, you reach for his face. Your fingertips brush over Corinthain’s glasses, and his hand snap out, wrapping around your wrist tightly. Bones making up his jaw roll beneath the skin. Tension throbs between you while seconds tick by. Through clenched teeth, Corinthian unwraps his hold finger by finger. 
You tug his shades away from his face. He’s tense as a bowstring, his head slanted at an angle. The same jagged teeth sit where most have eyeballs. They’re hooded, though. His discomfort—and anger at said discomfort—couldn’t be more perspicuous. 
His shades close as you fold arm temples one at a time. You hold his stare, staring right at those jagged teeth with a slight frown. You extend his shades back to him mutely. 
“But my trust is something you will have to earn back,” you state earnestly. 
The nightmare hesitates halfway to reaching for his glasses. Those pale fingers dance over them before he plucks them from you.
“Sounds like a fair deal,” he muses absently. You expect him to put the shades back on, but instead, Corinthian hooks them on his shirt pocket. Turning to go, he calls out a honeyed, “You coming?”
He gazes at you over his shoulder, jagged teeth on full show, and you feel yourself smile.
“Always.”
.
Sun shines luminous and warm today. The Wanderer Island stretches as far as your eye can perceive, teeming with life and greenery around every corner. Flowers and trees bloom everywhere—an awe-inspiring marriage between tropical and temperate climates. The Island once again oozes a sense of magick and wonder that was once so prominent here. No place in the universe can compare.  
“Rebuilding is almost complete,” you begin conversationally. “The Dreaming is more beautiful than ever.”
The Endless keeps pace beside you, a pensive sound rumbling from him. “It was not without aid.”
A smile twitches your lips upwards. “You’re welcome.”
Two weeks have gone by since Dreamfall. Things have mended—between you individually and the atmosphere around the Dreaming. While Corinthian’s return was met with some side glances, no one discussed it further. Dreamfolk trust Dream to make the right decision. Or perhaps Gault was right; they’re wiser than to outright question.  
“The Corinthian has also been making progress,” Dream says. “I am hoping to place him under supervision and monitor his conduct. To make sure what happened is never repeated. Should the need arise, he will be allocated duties back in the waking world.”
Joy flutters in your heart. “Yeah? That’s great. Someone you trust, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“And?” you probe. “Are you going to tell me who or not?”
In your peripheral, Dream inclines in your direction. “Yours.”
You nearly trip. “Dream, I—” You clear your throat, pausing. “Are you sure? It didn’t exactly work out last time.”
Dream’s intent scrutiny slides over your facial features. “It was due to no fault of yours. And this Corinthian is the same in all but one function. He will not fail again. He has a different purpose now.”
There’s a solemn sort of finality about the way he articulates those words. A tiny shiver skitters down your spine. He will not expand further upon those words. Whatever that purpose is, you imagine time will reveal it. 
You chew on your inner cheek. “Okay. I would like that.”
You smile at him. But Dream’s expression stutters, overcome by some foreign emotion. His mouth parts, then closes, his fingers folding into white-knuckled fists. 
Just as you’re about to ask what’s wrong, Dream speaks: “Wanderer. Stay.”
You muster up an uncertain, perplexed smile. “I’m right here.”
Dream marches closer, sunshine caught in his onyx hair. 
“Stay however long you want,” he insists softly. “Stay forever if it should so please you.”
Shock envelops you, freezing you in your spot. You’ve told him, didn’t you? That you would stay forever by his side if only he asked. Now he’s asking. Except confusion and unease battle in your chest. Can you trust his word? Did Dream change enough? He brought back Corinthian. He freed Gault from the Darkness. He insists this is a new age. But…
“And if I wanted to leave?” you question. “If I chose never to return, what then?”
“It would sadden my creations—”
“I’m asking you.”
Dream falters, shackled by your insistence. His lashes flutter, his head lowering in near palpable struggle. You’re challenging him, but you refuse to continue with the charade. If he wants forever, you can’t live with the fear he might change his mind about it. 
“It would pain me, also. A great deal.” He hesitates again, and it’s bizarre because this degree of uncertainty is not something you associate Dream with. “But you are free. You've always been free. The Dreaming is your home. Should you wish to return, its gates will always await you.”
Doubt twists your mouth downwards. “I thought that once—”
“I swear it. No matter what the future may hold. No matter how angry I get, I shall never again take the Dreaming away from you.” Sheer power woven into those words leaves no room for doubt. It’s a vow. He will not break it. There would be a price to pay if he did. Dream’s fingertips ghost over yours, a graze leaving fire in its wake. “I read your book in the library. I did not wish to tell you sooner because I worried you would leave. Because… you were right. I could never understand the sheer devastation. Or the harm I inflicted.”
You drag your hand back, stepping away from him. Dream’s features fall subtly. You face away, giving him your back while you process. Raising the hand he was caressing seconds prior, you cradle it to your chest. Sunshine prickles your cheek, but you ignore it. 
“I’m not ashamed of my past,” you tell him, turning back to face him. “I always knew there was a chance you could read it. So, what did you think?”
He appears pained. At least now you know why he’s been so melancholy these last several weeks. “That I should wish for nothing more than for you to stay by my side.”
Those unadorned words devastated you. 
Smiling through your inflated, overjoyed heart, you mumble, “Stay forever… I can’t technically do that.”
But Dream is unruffled. If anything, you glimpse the beginnings of hope starting to take root in him. 
“I’ll seek a way,” he avows. 
“To what?” An incredulous chuckle escapes you. “Break the curse?”
Destiny’s warning jump back to the forefront of your mind, and you swallow thickly. You don’t dare to ponder freedom for longer than an indulgent moment. 
“Yes,” Dream replies. 
You stare at him. Tall and dark, sunlit and more open than you’ve ever seen him. Determined and golden. Your Dream Lord. He terrifies you. You love him. 
“You can’t interfere,” you remind him emptily. “And I might die.”
“Or you may live,” Dream argues. “Freely. And choose for yourself. Always.”
“Trying to bait me, Dream Lord?”
Sudden tension between you loosens around the edges. Once more, the susurration of the trees trickles into your mind, elevating the brewing anxiety. 
A thousand years. The curse has defined your existence and has kept you alive this long. What are you without it? There’s always been an unspoken acknowledgement that you could never break the curse without dying. Simply too much time has passed. No mortal vessel can survive over a millennium otherwise. When you asked Destiny, it was only to understand more about the nature of the curse. Not because you ever assumed you could survive breaking the curse. 
Dream’s mouth compresses as if he’s attempting not to smile. “I would never.”
“Stay by your side, huh?” you mutter, looking away while you mull over your conversation. “And what exactly would that entail?”
His response is immediate, smooth, “Whatever you wish.”
“A companion, then?” Your words pitch lower and silkier while you close the minimal distance with relaxed, unhurried steps. Dream’s eyes darken a shade. “An emissary? A consort? A queen?”
His black-clad shoulders lift with his inhale. 
“Those are but words,” he murmurs silkily. “For you would be all those things, and more.”
You examine his profile, those starlit irises, the doubt swimming there. Does he doubt you would stay? After such long years harbouring this affection for him? Silly, wonderful anthropomorphic personification. “I’ll stay, but only if you answer a question.”
“Even if the price were a hundred thousand questions, Wanderer, I would pay it gladly. What is this question?”
Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinise him. Dream does not balk under your exigent examination, waiting patiently. Biting back a smile, you permit your features to relax. He’s unfairly fun to tease. 
“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”
Relish bubbles in your chest at the way Dream’s expression comes undone. As if from a thousand questions he was bracing for, nothing could have prepared him for this. Birds chirp a merry tune somewhere in the tree line, a warm breeze ruffling Dream’s dark hair while he gazes at you with utterly confused wonderment. A slight, fond smile curls his lips.  
“A thousand years,” he begins in a bewildered drawl. “And still, you ask the same question.”
You laugh faintly, shrugging. “Well, in all fairness, you never answered me the last time. Which was very rude, by the way—”
In an inhale Dream of the Endless materialises in front of you. His hands slip to hold your face, cupping it with delicate hands as he tugs you closer. His kiss falls over you like stars. Silky, gentle warmth that washes over you with such fervent passion you gasp against his mouth. Your hands grasp onto him blindly. You part only long enough for you to gulp down oxygen before your mouths meet again, and again, and again, burning with need unquenched. Heat spreads through every inch of you. A thousand years being cold, floating unearthed, but now someone is holding you. 
Dream presses another kiss to your mouth, desperate and hungry, gentle in his handling, and you return it with equal enthusiasm, equal need. Dizziness envelops you, and Dream pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. You shudder, a delicious heat licking up your senses. This closeness hurts better than anything ever has. You remind yourself to breathe, to remember this is real, he’s here, holding you, and nothing matters in this moment. Whatever the future holds, you do not fear it. Because Hob was right: there are people out there who love, and that makes all the difference. 
Dream’s thumb grazes over your bunched-up cheek. Your smile is wide enough to light your entire face. 
It continues with a gentle, rasping: “I’ll tell you one day, stardust.”
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an:
Never apologise, never explain.
I set out to write nothing more than a fun little story that I expected to have maybe 3-4 parts max. Something entirely self-indulgent and fun for no one but me and maybe one or two mutuals. I never quite expected it would become as beloved as it did. I suppose here, in the end, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who read this and supported it. Be it by commenting, making edits/art for it or just sending me encouraging/funny messages. You guys are the reason this story became what it did. I'm immensely grateful for each and every single one of you. It was a rough month, but I'm glad I could offer you this conclusion at long last. Thank you for being here, thank you for being kind, and thank you again for reading.
Goodnight, and see you all in dreams, wanderers ☾ ⋆・゚:⋆・゚
2K notes · View notes
eviesaurusrex · 1 year
Text
ɢʀɪᴇꜰ | ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜꜱ
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GIFs not mine!
Lord Morpheus x Deity!Reader (Goddess of Nature and Music)
summary: In the wake of his own capture, his queen was imprisoned too.
word count: 971
warnings: angst, seriously, this is angsty, blood, Morpheus wants to burn the Waking World to ashes
author’s note: My first Morpheus work, and we’re directly starting with something short and angsty xD I’m so unhappy with how this turned out, but I’m pushing myself to upload these types of works anyway because I’m my biggest critic and all that. Plus, I’m shitty at writing pure angst. But we’ll deal with this for now before we’re gonna turn to the fluffy part of writing for this god of a man <3
»part 2? part 2.«
;
His eyes were trained on the woman lying next to him on the solid, cold ground. His hand outstretched, his fingers twitching desperately in order to reach her. Only mere inches parted them, but the existence of the laughable distance was mocking him in its impossibility to overcome. Not in his current state.
Dry lips moved slowly, forming words without letting a single sound escape; the agony too consuming to mutter a single syllable. Morpheus was not even convinced she could hear him if he would succeed in calling her name, trying to nudge her mind back into consciousness with the power of his voice. A helpless sound was the only audible thing escaping his parted lips.
And then, abnormal darkness engulfed him once more.
His returning consciousness let him move his hand again, but instead of finally palpating the silk-like skin of his wife underneath his fingertips, the Lord of Dreams touched icy cold glass. Unsteadily, he opened his distinct blue eyes, which once held the entire universe in them, but now only pictured the void of a pitch-black night sky. He felt so heavy, his mind slow, his body not responding the way it was supposed to. The loss of his powers was something he almost missed because his tired eyes suddenly rested on red droplets scattering the dirty stone floor.
With a silent groan, Morpheus pushed himself up on his bare knees, blinking rapidly to sharpen his eyesight in the dimly lit basement. Suddenly, he wished he had not done it as every single ounce of air was pushed out of his lungs as if he had fallen from a high looming tower and crashed onto the ground. He felt as if he would suffocate in a matter of fleeting moments; his eyes trained motionless on the pool of blood surrounding a body he knew better than his own.
YN’s eyes blinked slowly, her chest rose barely perceptible for a human’s eye, the fingertips of her outstretched arm trying to find a hold of this realm. Morpheus knew she made an effort to anchor herself so Death could come and bring her back into the Dreaming before every ounce of life had left her body. But he could feel with every agonizing piece of his soul how life slowly faded out of her bright shining eyes, forever reminding him of Fiddler’s Green and every single vegetation that grew in their realm. His heart ached heavily in his chest, tears blurring his sight, and both hands were pressed onto the glass, trying to push through it to get to her, to protect her just as she obviously had done for him.
“YN.” His voice broke in the middle of her name, unable to speak it out, to taste every syllable of it on his lips, letting it flood his mind to ease a pain he had never experienced, never had suffered before. The salty lakes his eyes had turned into overflowed, and still, he didn’t dare to move his gaze from her, not even as his capturer stepped into her blood. Raging fury and hatred burned his insides as the human closed his hands around her throat and neck to lift her off the ground, pressing her body onto the sphere, facing lover to lover. Her eyes, which tended to change their colors frequently, stared dull and lifeless into his own, and despite her dying state, YN managed to grant him the sight of the attempt of one of her beautiful smiles, which always illuminated his life and the Dreaming, bringing comfort and joy.
“Poor little thing. You see, she tried to save you, and I cannot let that happen. So… Her pitiful death is practically your wrongdoing.” Morpheus almost did not listen to the echoing voice, instead holding the last remnants of her gaze captured in his, salty crystals flowing over both faces, connecting them in their pain and loss though separated by sorcery. Her lips gently moved, only visible to his eyes, and he started to make out her words as her eyes lost the last specks of life and her body went limp. The man only let her drop to the floor, where she landed in her own blood, shedded in her attempts to protect him as they had promised one another on the night of their wedding under the darkest but most ethereal firmament ever seen by the eyes of humans, deities, and endless.
With burning rage in his now flaming blue irises filled with a darkening void that swallowed every other emotion in its wake, the Lord of Dreams slowly stared up at his jailer, his heart only knowing hatred anymore. He wanted to see this world burn, but in particular, he craved to see this human burn—the one who had robbed him of his wife and queen, the love of his existence. He wanted to hear him beg for mercy. He wanted to listen to his piercing screams filled with agony, and he would not even stop when he was certain the man had learned his lesson before ending his life with his own bare hands. Morpheus would relish in the afterglow of his glorious vengeance before turning his gaze to the rest of this degenerated order to end every single life himself.
And maybe, after the last scream had faded, he would be satisfied to finally mourn the only woman he had ever wanted.
His gaze settled back onto her body after their capturer left him with her; tears continuing to cover his skin and drowning his soul in anguish and torment which didn’t leave him—
Not even after a century of imprisonment and her gentle voice wandering through his mind, repeating her last words to him over and over.
I will find you in my next existence, my love.
;
I kinda don’t like it, but hey, it’s my first time writing for my baby, so that’s okay. Hope y’all enjoyed it anyway. As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3
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lilywastaken · 1 year
Note
First of all I hope this is the request section second of all love your writings you’ve done so far <3 now to my request, I’ve been seeing way to many edits about dream in mr beast Antartica video. What if fem/reader went along with them and slept with in dream,sapnap, jimmy tent. It would be a dream x reader, friends to lovers or already a couple your choice :). Can’t wait to read more from you <3
⇝ARTIC COLD.
CC! DreamWasTaken x FEM!Reader.
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SUMMARY: Spending 50 hours in Antarctica wasn't on your list of things to do this month, but neither was sharing a sleeping bag with your crush.
WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of blood, illness (Dream's ill the whole time ☠️.), a lot of swearing!
A/N: My first request!! Thank you so much for it! <3 I chose the friends to lovers route with it, and kind of got carried away cause I love this idea (as you'll see)!! I'm actually really proud of this one, it might be my favourite piece of writing yet LMAO. Requests are still open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you all for the support! &lt;33
WORD COUNT: 5.8K
MASTERLIST.
Also on ao3!
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You were used to travelling at this point.
Living with some of the biggest content creators of the year and creating content yourself meant that you were always being invited to places, whether it be conventions or get-togethers with internet friends.
And although you were well acquainted with Karl and knew who he worked for, you had never expected to be invited to be part of one of Mr Beast's survival challenges alongside your roommates and his crew, and you would've been crazy to even imagine you'd be invited to travel to Antarctica of all places.
After living for half a year in one of the warmer states in the U.S., you didn't know how you were meant to survive below 0 degrees when all you had to wear were tank tops and the occasional long sleeved shirt.
Which meant you were stuck borrowing your roommates' big chunky jackets and sweaters that they had brought alongside them for the trip.
It wasn't as if you weren't used to borrowing clothes from them, hell, you were pretty sure most of your closet consisted of Dream's clothes that were too small to fit him anymore.
But that didn't make it any less embarrassing.
"You look like a penguin."
George snorted as soon as you stumbled out of the jet's tiny bathroom, sporting one of the many jackets you were required to wear before exiting the aircraft and stepping onto Antarctica.
"Go fuck yourself." You sneered back, zipping your coat up to your chin and shoving your hands into the pockets, somehow already feeling the chill from the outside despite not having landed yet. "I'm afraid I won't be able to look as stylish as you wish me to during our stay in fucking Antarctica."
"I think you look stylish enough." Clay teased cheekily as he walked up from behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders to manoeuvre you out of his way, causing you to roll your eyes long enough to cause a headache at the cockiness he was exhibiting simply because you had chosen to wear his clothes instead of anyone else's.
"You're just saying that because it's your jacket she's wearing." Nolan commented as Karl helped him zip up the last of the many coats he was wearing, a teasing tone in his voice.
"And she looks good in it, what's the issue?" Dream didn't seem to want to back down from their back and forth, as usually happened with those. When Nolan didn't respond, the blond turned his head around and shot you a grin along with a thumbs up, his silent way of boasting after one of his so-called wins.
"You're such an idiot." You muttered under your breath as Sapnap handed you one of the many scarves that were littered across the floor, and you for one were glad that you had something to cover your face, not wanting anyone to notice the warmth that had risen to your cheeks after your small interaction with Dream.
Despite you living with him for almost a full year, he had somehow never gotten the memo about your true feelings towards him, unlike both Sapnap and George and half of the goddamn internet, who were full-on convinced that you were head over heels for the previously faceless YouTuber, and to be fair, they weren't far off.
He'd been the first one to reach out after lurking around in your streams, the first one to invite you into their server and make an effort to include you into the ongoing lore, to add you to streams with his internet friends and therefore introduce you to the people who you now considered to be your best friends.
It was inevitable, really. After countless hours spent listening to each other's voices through your speakers and being one of the first people to see his face despite his initial fear of rejection, how could you not fall in love with him? He was perfect, from the way his nose crinkled when he smiled to the countless moles adorning his body, he was perfect.
It was stupid, really, how hard you'd fallen for someone who had started out as a simple stranger on the internet who happened to also play Minecraft to one of the people you loved the most.
And you were going to make sure that he'd never know how much you truly loved him, the chances of your confession ruining the friendship you both had built too high to even consider.
"Why are you guys just standing around, we're about to land!" Jimmy came out of the cockpit, clapping his hands together and ushering everyone towards their luggage in an effort to get you to get ready quicker. "Come on! I don't want any of you catching frostbite and dying on me!"
"Wait, that's possible!?"
Despite all the layers of clothing Dream was currently sporting, he somehow managed to feel your hand wrap around his elbow, shuffling closer to his taller build as you readied to exit the aircraft.
"You okay?" He pulled his ski mask down below his lips so he could send you a reassuring smile, his juniper eyes obscured by the ski goggles that sat snuggly on his face.
"Yep. Totally okay. Totally not freaking out because we're about to spend 50 hours in the coldest place on earth. Totally fine, Clay." Your words came out of your mouth almost at the speed of light as your gloved hands fumbled with the scarf around your neck, receiving a laugh from the blond in response.
"Calm down. I doubt Jimmy will actually let us die, okay?" He moved your hands away from your face and fixed your problem himself, the smile on his lips only growing as his fingers brushed against your warming cheeks, a huge contrast to the cold air swirling outside.
"And if you do, just make sure to tell everyone to like and subscribe, okay?" A small 'oof!' left you as Chandler slammed his hands on your shoulders from behind, getting a slightly angered glare from Dream and a few giggles from the others at his action.
"Fuck you, man." You smiled, the sweet yet very brief encouragement you'd received lifting your spirits almost immediately.
But they were swiftly dampened as the doors opened, and holy fucking shit, you'd underestimated how cold it was going to be.
The sun was shining onto your small group, but not a single trace of warmth was felt on your skin, and oh god what you'd give to be back home curled underneath your bed covers holding Patches in your arms.
Jimmy didn't spare a single second to start the challenge, already heading over to the spot he'd claimed would be perfect for the makeshift camp that would be your home for the next two days.
Luckily, you'd been tasked with carrying one of the lighter pieces of luggage, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't almost busted a lung laughing whenever you saw one of the boys slip or trip and fall flat on their faces, but you did stop every time Dream stopped to cough, knowing he had caught a chill right before boarding the plane and the freezing temperatures you were being forced to travel through would likely do him no good.
After surviving a surprise blizzard and almost slipping a few times, you finally reached the spot Jimmy had marked in his mental map. You were almost ready to collapse into the soft looking snow, but of course, you were forced to put up the tents you'd be staying in, which proved even more difficult than propping up a normal tent in the woods, thanks to the never ending wind and slippy snow.
But as soon as you were allowed into the safety of the main tent, you curled into a ball in the corner and fought with your gloves to turn on your phone, which barely worked due to the cold.
"What the fuck are you trying to do with that?" Sapnap groaned as he fell to the ground in front of you, spying at the device in your hands as if he were some sort of prehistoric man and this was his first contact with fire. "You're an actual imbecile if you think there's going to be even a sliver of reception here."
You stuck your tongue out to him and moved to kick his side with your snow boots, snickering in victory as he finally moved away from you, leaving an empty spot at your side as Jimmy started to take out the strange contraptions that were required to make food in such extreme weather, but you were too tired to listen in to his explanation.
"Made you something." You visibly cringed at the sound of Dream's groggy voice before he came into view, ski mask and goggles abandoned so you could see clearly how red and runny his nose was, gloves off so he could hand you the warm packet of food he claimed to have made.
"Didn't know you were a Rudolph cosplayer.", You commented on his appearance with a sly smile, almost dropping the food as you felt him curl into your side, head falling onto your shoulder with a shaky moan of pain, clearly not amused by your attempt at a joke. "You okay?"
"No. Not okay." He whined, his warm breath hitting your neck from where his head was situated and causing goosebumps to form, your body still not used to this much proximity with him. "I feel like shit. Like… worse than shit."
You'd normally roll your eyes at such a statement, but you knew now that he was telling the truth, you'd seen the blood he coughed up the day before during your stay in Chile, and you knew that a cold could quickly turn into something way worse given the time.
You were ready to offer him help with whatever he needed, but you were cut off before you could even begin as you saw his mouth open wide from the corner of your eye.
"Wh-"
"Feed me." He attempted to say without closing his mouth, soft eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes with a pleasing look. "C'mon. Hungry."
You tried to ignore the head creeping up your neck as you reached into the bag with the plastic spoon to scoop up some of the now lukewarm food out and into his mouth, watching as he closed his mouth around the spoon and gulped, moaning softly at the taste.
"Holy shit that might actually be the best thing I've ever tasted." He opened his mouth again, waiting for you to shovel a bit more food into his mouth.
"Oh, so what you said about my pesto was a lie?" You said, pouting in mock sadness as you repeated your action, shoving the spoon into his mouth a bit too hard and making him choke, but before you could apologise, he shook his head, answering your previous accusation.
"Okay, second best. Your cooking skills put this delicious cold goop to shame." He joked between a few chews, nudging you slightly with his shoulder. "You know that."
"Ah, so you're comparing my food to this?" You raised the bag in question and shook it a bit to further your point, trying your best to not burst out laughing at how panicked he looked as he tried to explain himself; a frown etching onto his face as you finally broke and let out a soft giggle.
"You're making fun of me." He finally seemed to realise as you nodded in response, about to shove some snow in your face if it weren't for the spoon that was shoved into his mouth and the puppy eyes you shot in his direction.
"Truce?"
The gulp he made was enough of a response for you.
Once the spoon you had used for Dream was well disposed of (you didn't want to risk getting ill yourself), you started eating some of the food yourself, Dream's head still snugly resting on your shoulder as he watched your every movement, making small talk every now and then and joining in on the conversations the others were having.
"Okay, it's like… almost midnight." Jimmy commented as he stared down at his watch, everyone staring back at him with the same bewildered expression, since the sun was still shining down onto your small camp. "We gotta get to bed."
"But it's still sunny outside!" Karl whined, pulling back the entrance slap to stare outside for a split moment, everyone immediately shouting at him for letting the cold in.
"And it's going to stay like that! Did the American school system fail you this badly!? Haven't you lot learnt about Antarctica? The sun is always up here!" George exclaimed in frustration, already zipping up his jacket, urging everyone else to abandon their food and do the same.
"Exactly! So let's get into our tents and try to get some rest, okay?" Jimmy encouraged, trying his best to keep everyone's morale up, picking up his sleeping bag and waiting for everyone to be ready before opening the tent.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You heard Sapnap curse as he followed his group into the tent with their sleeping bags, your own pressed to your chest for extra warmth until you reached the tent you'd be staying in, quickly making yourself at home on the right side.
"Dibs!" You didn't even try to hide the amusement in your voice as you slammed your bag and belongings onto the plastic ground, immediately starting to zip down the giant coat you'd been wearing.
"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes with a smile as he and Nolan claimed the left side, leaving Dream standing at the entrance in confusion, staring at the empty spot beside your sleeping bag as if it was an abomination of nature.
His brain hadn't seemed to comprehend that he'd be sleeping next to you when you confessed you'd feel safer sleeping in the same tent as him, he had simply assumed you'd be sleeping next to Nolan or Jimmy, not him.
"You okay, dude? You're letting in all the cold." Your voice snapped him out of the daze he had been in, rapidly nodding instead of answering since he really didn't trust his voice to work right then.
Once the tent was zipped up tight, he awkwardly shuffled towards you, watching intently as you pushed your jackets off, which left you in the tight shirt all of you wore beneath the heaps of coats.
His hands shook as he undid his sleeping bag, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of how close to you he was going to be in a few minutes.
And he didn't know why this was affecting him so much, he'd been cuddled up into your side less than an hour ago, and he wouldn't be able to count the times you'd crawled into his bed back home after a nightmare or if you were being too lazy to make the few steps that it took from his room to yours. He'd had you in his arms, hell, he'd felt the warm skin of your waist beneath his open palms that one time he helped you decorate the Christmas tree, so why was this different?
Maybe he was deluded.
That's probably right, his cold had gotten so bad that it was affecting his senses, which meant he was now super fucking awkward around you and wanted nothing more than to hide his face in the crook of your neck and feel once again your warm skin bene-
What?
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck?
He froze in his tracks as he stopped his train of thought from going any further, his face heating up as he reviewed the thoughts about you that seemed to have infiltrated his mind.
Well…. it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about you like that, it was sort of inevitable. You were one of his closest friends, (maybe his closest, but don't tell George that.) and yeah, maybe once in a while he had thought about kissing you, about threading his fingers through your hair and tracing every feature on your pretty face while you laid in his arms.
And… and maybe he had told himself that all those times you had come to him at night for comfort or had stayed in his arms while watching a movie, were nothing but platonic, that you would probably do the same with Sapnap or George (despite the absolute fucking jealousy he felt brewing inside of him at the thought of you lying in their arms instead of his.) and the moments you spent talking about everything and anything at the same time weren't reminiscent to all of his past relationships, because this wasn't a relationship! He was your best friend! Not some creep that was in love with the girl who trusted him the most! Nope! No way.
He nodded to himself in confirmation as he finally finished setting up his sleeping bag, flopping down onto it with an angered huff, ignoring the amused look you sent in his direction.
"You're going to sleep like that?" You questioned, poking his side teasingly, causing him to yelp and move away from your touch as if it was poison as quickly as he could, snapping his head down to look at his outfit.
His cheeks went even redder (if humanly possible) as he realised he had been this close to falling asleep in full Antarctica tactical gear, quickly shoving all of his layers off so he was in the tight shirt your two other tent-mates were also wearing.
"You're so stupid." You snorted at him with a fond smile, turning around on top of your makeshift bed to pick up your phone and some earphones you'd been smart enough to bring. "Downloaded some anime Karl recommended, you want to watch an episode before we sleep?" You offered, making sure your voice was low enough that it didn't disturb Jimmy or Nolan, who were busy talking to the cameraman; lifting an earbud in one hand and waving it around enticingly.
"Y-Yeah, why not?" He smiled back at you, awkwardly shuffling towards you and keeping his distance because he was your friend who respected your boundaries and definitely did not like you.
He sputtered out a whine as you rolled your eyes and pulled his sleeping bag flush against yours, forcing him to sit right next to you, arm to arm, leg to leg and foot to foot. He raised a shaking hand to pop in the earbud you handed to him and tried his best to focus on the screen and not on how fucking warm your skin felt against his, how cute you sounded when you let out a short snort or a low giggle, how pretty you looked from the side with the glow of your phone reflecting your features.
Fuck.
You, for one, were actually enjoying the show at hand (despite only having one earbud, but that didn't matter.), and not focusing on how close Dream was to you, something you were learning to do after all the times you'd spent curled into his side at his bed back home.
You hadn't really thought about how the sleeping arrangements would work back on the plane, you were more concerned about the plastic device Jimmy had shoved into your hand and tried his best to explain how it was supposed to help you use the restroom.
But now that you were given the time to breathe, you finally realised how close you'd be to him, the thought enough to make you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream into it like a schoolgirl, just like every time you ended up in his arms.
Before the episode could finish, the cameraman left after filming a bit of Jimmy and Nolan, the latter escorting him out and turning back around, his gaze flicking down to your sleeping bag.
"Ah, shit, your bag's ripped."
"What?" You let your phone fall onto your lap and leaned over your legs to grab at the end of what would've been your bed if it weren't for the giant gash that had split the bottom in half, exposing your socks to the outside. "Fuck! Jimmy!"
The man in question popped his head up from where he was lying down, surveying the damage before biting the inside of his cheek in thought, scratching his chin.
"Uh… I don't think we've got any spares. Are… Are you okay with sharing or something? I mean, you know Karl, he'll probably be up all night so you can probably take his or share…?"
Dream didn't want to admit how horrible the thought of you leaving his tent to share with Karl was and how disgusting he felt as the jealousy grew in a pit of his stomach as he kept on thinking about it.
"Uh-" You looked down at the threads hanging out of the tear, shrugging your shoulders as you silently agreed. "I mean… as long as Karl's okay with it…? I don't mind."
"Great! Here, let me hel-"
"You can just share with me."
Dream's groggy voice cut off Jimmy's enthusiastic one, causing all of the tent to snap their head into his direction, as if you had forgotten he was there.
"That's fine, right?"
"Yeah!" You cried out a bit too eager, quickly coughing and changing your tone of voice to a more mellow one. "Yeah, that's fine."
"Oookay! That's actually better. A lot of people huddle close for heat here so let's see if you help Dream with that cold of his, eh?" Jimmy nodded, slipping his sleep mask back down his face and lying down, leaving you and Dream wide awake and staring at each other, Nolan having slipped into his bag during your awkward conversation.
"Here." Dream got up and tried his best to pull the sleeping bag open to make more space, waiting patiently for you to unzip your snow boots and put on some fuzzy socks you'd manage to snag in Chile before taking the plane.
"Thanks," You mumbled quietly, awkwardly moving to a side of the bag so Dream would be able to fit in next to you. "For holding it open. And uhm, for offering. I really didn't want to leave the tent, plus, with Karl, Sapnap and George I doubt I'd get any sleep."
Dream snorted in affirmation, aware of how dangerous they were when put together, and he couldn't even imagine how powerful they'd be when contained in such a small space. It was his turn to throw off his boots (not even bothering to unzip them first), and quickly shove himself into the bag next to you in hopes of keeping the warmth his feet had previously been in.
After a bit of shifting and moving limbs, you finally got into a comfortable position, your body draped over his side to preserve warmth with an arm wrapped around you waist with the other tracing random shapes into the arm that was sprawled across his chest, something he subconsciously did every time you were in his arms in such a position.
"This is nice." He mumbled, half joking, half serious.
"Mhm." You hummed, not trusting yourself enough to form proper sentences, carefully resting your head onto his shoulder and tickling his cheek with your hair.
A few moments passed in the same position, Dream's warm hand rubbing circles onto your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, knowing how stressed you probably felt without having to ask. You almost melted in his touch as he moved his head to rub his nose into your hair, closing his eyes with a sigh.
"It's impossible to sleep." He finally broke the silence with the muttered sentence, making you giggle and hide your face further into his shoulder.
"Don't you have an eye mask?" You mumbled from your spot, voice muffled by his shirt, feeling him shift beneath you until his hands left you to pull what you assumed was the eye mask down to his face.
"Forgot about it." He grumbled, warm hands finding their spot back onto your body and continuing their ministrations on your skin, lulling you quickly to sleep, feeling as if your head had been stuffed with cotton, tired enough to ignore everything around you, especially the quiet confession that came from Dream's lips and the soft kiss that was pressed to your forehead, leaving it to be a secret of the night.
You were woken up rather abruptly, the tent opening and Karl's high pitched laugh coming in along with the cold air, making everyone in the tent groan in discomfort and move beneath the covers to preserve the warmth, including you two, who during the night seemed to have moved into a different position, your face pressed right into Dream's chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands cupping the pudge of your thighs as they wrapped around his waist, thumb rubbing in circles like he had done last night with your waist, quickly soothing you back to sleep.
"I'm going to kill you, Karl!" Nolan shouted from his bag as the boy rolled into the tent, Sapnap following close behind with a disposable camera, not trusting his phone enough in such a weather.
"You got it?"
"Yep."
Sapnap made sure the flash was off, not wanting either of you to fully wake up and ruin the moment, before snapping a few pictures of Dream and you cuddled beneath the top layer of his sleeping bag, keeping their giggles and snickers to a low before leaving the tent with a nice reminder of what had happened beneath you.
"Told you it was smart to bring a knife." Sapnap pointed to your discarded sleeping bag with a grin before fully exiting the tent, not without letting in a gust of cold wind.
That seemed to finally snap you out of your sleep, groaning softly as you wriggled in Dream's arms, stopping in your tracks as he let out an incoherent grumble and brought you closer into his arms, as if you were a simple teddy bear and not his best friend who had totally overstepped a line by actually fucking wrapping her legs around his waist as if he were your boyfriend!
"Clay." You whispered as you faced him, moving a hand to push a few of his curls out of the way of his closed eyes and observe the freckles splattered across his skin like stars in the night sky, your finger tracing the short invisible lines between all of them. "Wake up…"
"Hmng…" His hold on you tightened for a moment before returning back to normal, his way of pleading for you to give up and slip back into his arms.
"Claaayy~" you said a bit louder, pressing your finger into the tip of his nose in hopes of getting him to wake faster. "Come on, we've still got a whole day left."
"Do you think I'm actually well enough to do something?" He finally spoke, and you almost jumped at how much worse his voice sounded than last night, but that was a given due to the cold and the mix between his already muzzy voice and the deep tone his morning voice normally took. "Just stay here with me for a while…"
"But I'm well enough to do something, Clay." You mumbled, letting your arm fall by your side and attempting once again to escape his grip, smiling softly as he didn't fight this time and let you slip out easily.
You didn't make any further effort to wake him up again, giving him the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer and getting yourself ready to leave the tent, despite how warm his hold had been and how you truly wanted nothing more than to slip right into his hold and wrap your arms around him.
But you fought the urge to, exiting the warmth of your tent and rushing towards where Karl and George were building a snowman (although it wasn't much of a snowman due to Karl slipping and falling onto it every few minutes.), and offering to assist them.
Ignoring the cold and the fact you didn't have anything to decorate the so-called snowmen with, you actually had fun with them, having said goodbye to Nolan and Jimmy before they left to "claim a mountain" a few hours ago; and you were now left with four snowmen without features, so they really couldn't be called snowmen at all.
"I think it looks pretty good!" Karl hummed as he finished rolling one of the bigger parts of his snowman.
"It's just three balls of snow on top of each other, Karl." George deadpanned as he moved his goggles to see the abominations you three had made.
"I think it looks a bit like you." You stuck your tongue out at George, who returned the gesture before the both of you realised how cold it was to be doing it and quickly returned your tongues back into your mouths.
After making some food and welcoming Jimmy and Nolan back, you spent some time with Dream outside (despite how much your body was screaming at you to get somewhere warm.), and threw a few snowballs at each other, last night's events never discussed or mentioned during your conversations.
You finally realised how much time you had spent outside when Chandler announced the plane would be here in almost two hours, the fact you'd spent almost a day in the freezing snow enough to frighten you into getting frostbite.
"If my fingers fall off I want you to have them, Dream." You confessed to him as you both worked on taking down your tent, giddiness filling you at the loud laugh he let out, nodding his head with a smile beneath his ski mask.
"Yes ma'am, I'll make sure to cherish them until I die." He teased back, shoving whatever remained of the tent into a bag and wrapping some of the rope around it, letting you admire for a moment how strong he truly was before Sapnap called you over to help him with the rubbish.
You didn't have much time to talk as Jimmy hurried you all back to where you had started, where the plane was waiting in all its glory, and holy shit you couldn't wait to be back inside.
You almost tripped on the stairs from how desperate you were to get inside if it weren't for Dream's hands holding you up from behind, knowing how excited you were to get back into the warm safety of the aircraft.
You collapsed into one of the window seats with a loud dramatic exhale, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the leather chairs and the exaggerated smell of the air freshener that was wafting along the main cabin.
"Fucking finally, right?" Dream laughed after shoving both your luggage into the upper compartments, knowing you'd probably be too exhausted to do it yourself after barely catching any sleep in the last 24 hours, and falling into the empty seat next to you.
"I never thought I'd say this, but…" you turned to look at him dramatically, his heart beating rapidly at your serious expression and words until you spoke. "I actually miss Florida."
He breathed out a sigh of relief along with a laugh, nodding his head in agreement as he moved his hand to wrap around yours, heart fluttering as you didn't even stop him from doing so.
"I can't wait to wear some shorts and a tank top and still be hot." You mumbled with a smile, turning your head to a side to make eye contact with him. "Although it'll probably be a bit too cold for that."
"Yeah, you never know with Floridan winters." He snorted, interlacing your fingers with his and moving to look out the window. "As long as I'm out of this coat, I'll be fine."
It was your turn to laugh, nodding your head in affirmation, and shifting on the seat to rest your head on his shoulder, much like he had done when you had first entered the tent.
Silence filled your little corner of the plane until he finally spoke, turning to you completely and making you lose the balance you previously had.
"You uh… did you hear what I said? Last… uh, last last night?"
You cocked your head to a side like a confused puppy would, shaking your head, a no.
"Uh… well… Shit I'm really going to regret this." He breathed out as a laugh, raising his free hand to pull off his ski mask and ruffle up his curls. "I… I kind of, well… kissed your forehead. And said I- I love you."
Your brain short circuited at his words, blankly staring into his eyes as if your body had stopped just so your mind could make any sense of what he was saying.
"In a non-platonic way."
"In a non-platonic way." You parroted, blinking like a fool as you watched him panic underneath your gaze.
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"Oh."
Silence once again filled your little corner, both of your hands still intertwined and both your gazes locked together, Dream's whole body ready to give out if you didn't give him an answer soon.
"Please say somet-"
"I love you too." Your confession cut him off, his mouth hanging open with unsaid words ready to come out, looking something akin to a fish out of water gasping for air.
"O-Oh!" He breathed out, his body finally catching up to his brain as he nodded at your confession, cheeks pink from both embarrassment and illness. "Holy shit."
"Holy shit." You echoed once again, although this time you ended it with a small breathless giggle, raising your free hand to cup his cheek, stubble pricking your palm and cold skin meeting warm.
"I really want to kiss you right now." He confessed, half closed eyes searching for your gaze as his hand came up to cover yours over his cheek. "But I don't want to get you sick."
You smiled at his pout, shrugging your shoulders as you nodded down towards your fingers. "There's no way I'm not getting sick after that, Clay. It's fine. I want to kiss you too."
He nodded faster than the speed of light as you started to pull him down, pressing your lips to his for a moment that felt like eternity, and oh god, it was better than you imagined. It felt as if fireworks were going off in your head, sending shivers down your spine and lighting every nerve within you on fire, his breath against your lips as he pulled back from them almost burning your skin from how much you wanted to press them back onto his.
"Holy shit."
And by the sounds of it, you hadn't been the only one affected ridiculously by the kiss.
"Can we do that more often?" Dream basically vibrated in his seat at the prospect of being able to repeat that experience, his smile only growing when you nodded your head, a matching one pulling at your lips.
"Yes. Yes please."
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roguelov · 1 year
Text
Cat’s Cradle
Summary: You were crafted by him, crafted to serve the Dreaming and dreamers of all kinds. You were granted the ability to alter your appearance, to the feline variety, to hide in dreams. You, however, never imagined falling in love with him. But, when he left to take care of a rogue nightmare, only to never return, your heart broke. So, you ran to the Waking and soon met someone new. But, when Dream returns, how will he react to find you missing?
Word Count: ~5.2k
Reader: Fem
Warnings: Some angst (abandonment and heartbreak), fluff, pining
Requested by the magnificent @chainsawsangel
Part 2
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A curious question to ponder: do animals dream? And if so, what do they dream of? Do dogs dream of chasing squirrels? Do cats dream of hunting in a jungle? Do snakes dream of being ginormous and slithering about?
And the answer to all of these: yes, yes they do.
Far before humanity was where it was today, animals were the first to flock to the Dreaming. They were the first dreamers. Although their dreams may be plain, or simpler, compared to humans; they were still dreams. They were still precious, still hopeful.
But, as humanity evolved and grew, the Dreaming started to accommodate for humanity more. The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares had to turn his attention to those with far more complex dreams, to those impacting the Waking world with each breath and decision. In order to do so, he created his dreams and nightmares.
He created you.
You were one of the first dreams, and dare say the oldest. However, you were unique compared to the others. Your purpose was to oversee all dreams, and more specifically the dreams of the vast amount of creatures. When Dream could not lend his attention to the dreams, you were there.
In disguise, of course.
Dream not only created you for this single purpose, he also granted you the ability to alter your form. You could change into any feline creature from an average house cat to a vicious cougar.
And so it was for years, centuries. Your days were spent doing your duties and whatever you pleased. It was simpler in those earlier days, easy to seperate yourself from Dream. Creator and creation. However, as years passed those strict lines, those boundaries drawn, shifted.
Under the shade of a tree, in Fiddler’s Green beautiful picturesque forest, Dream lounged in the foliage’s shade. Books, taken from the library for his various researches, surrounded him. He needed a change of space and air to think.
You, on the other hand, were slinked away in the nearby bushes, quietly stalking him.
“Hello, my dream.” Dream’s eyes flickered up, catching yours.
But, Dream always spotted you, always knew when you were around. You walked out on paws while your silted, seemingly glowing amber, eyes stayed locked on to his dazzling oceanic blue. Reaching the edge of the tree’s shade, you calmly sat down in front of him, with your tail curled around you.
“And what can I do for you, (Y/N)?” Dream asked.
It started with your body, it stretched and elongated. Next was the fur, its cotton like texture retracted, leaving only soft skin. Then there were the fine details, from the tail vanishing with a flick, to your ears once pointed rounded out, to fingers growing as claws became dull nails, to your eyes more natural color for a human. It was intriguing to watch how quickly you changed. In a blink of an eye, you stood tall before Dream on two feet. You bowed your head slightly, “Apologies, my lord, for interrupting.”
Dream brushed off your formalities. “There is no need to apologize. Speak, what is it that you need?”
“Only to give my daily report, sir.”
Ah, yes, how could he forget. “Proceed.”
Reports were a necessity to ensure prosperity in the Dreaming. Any one wrong detail, any confusion, would mean possible devastation for a world crafted on such complexities. Luckily, you recounted all the dreams you saw and nothing out of the ordinary, for dreams that is. Dreams were chaos, but the Dreaming controlled such chaos.
“Thank you,” Dream said with a nod of his head.
“Of course.”
Normally, you would leave. But, this time your feet were rooted in place. Your eyes darted around to his stacks of books, then to the empty forest surrounding him. The quiet, hushed breeze blew past your ears, and it carried no other voices. It was Dream and Dream alone. And in this moment for some reason, your heart broke. A tiny fissure, truly, but a fissure which in time would grow.
He is always alone.
“Is there something else?”
Your attention snapped over. Dream’s eyes, typical pale blue, were nearly black for a fleeting moment, blending into the shadows. A midnight sky that twinkled with endless stars and universes. Cold, lonely.
You were not sure how to word it. You appear lonely, my lord. Do you wish to have company?
His pride was a fickle thing. One word could offend him. You, thankfully, knew how to navigate it fairly easily.
“May I stay?” You asked.
If I can help it, I don’t want you to be alone.
Dream cocked his head, curious by your question. He paused, considering it then spoke. “If you wish.”
With a single nod, you leapt into the air, changing back into a small house cat. You swiftly and easily climbed up the tree and splayed across a branch directly above Dream. Your eyes dropped down, catching Dream peering up at you. He quickly looked away and returned to his studies.
That.
That was when the boundaries shifted and soon you became friends. Eons, you grew closer and closer. But, the line was pushed further in the recent centuries.
To be fair, it was never your intention to fall for Dream. You knew of his previous relationships, you knew of the pain that somehow inevitably followed - such devastating heartbreak.
But, you did.
You fell.
No, not a dramatic fall such as one falling from grace. No, not all at once. It wasn’t as poets described as a burning flame that blazed into an uncontrollable, all-consuming fire.
No.
It was unknowing, it was subtle. It was like walking down stairs, just one step at a time. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom and was face to face with him, and reality, that it finally dawned on you what had happened.
His plain pale eyes were now the morning sky guiding you from the chilly night, bringing you hope and awe. With a simple glance, your heart now skipped relentlessly in your chest, sending you into a dizzying state of infatuation. His messy unruly hair now tempted you to run your fingers through it, to have his head on your chest and whisper poetry of your love and playful secrets into his hair. His lips - the prettiest pink like fresh spring flowers - now beckoned you forth to taste, to hear his velvet voice sing your name.
Your heart was completely given over.
You only hoped he would care for it.
“My dear (Y/N), my sweet dream, there you are.”
You, in feline form, laid sprawled in the sun, tucked - hidden from all except him - in the palace’s garden. It was your place of solitude, your place of peace, your place to untangle your thoughts.
A place Lord Morpheus showed you, and his presence rippled throughout here.
You saw his twinkling eyes in the blue sunny sky, or in the dark starry night. You heard his voice on the wind, whispering through the branches and bushes. You smelled him in the flowers, and morning dew. You felt him in the warmth of the sunlight, constant and never changing. He was always with you. You would ever escape him. Your mind could never untangle him from your thoughts. But, like a fool in love, you locked yourself in this beautiful gilded cage, happily tossing away the key.
You peered up at him from your patch. Your heart soared. His eyes, however, flickered with minor confusion. “Where have you been? I have not seen you for days.”
A twinge of guilt rose up.
Your features shifted and grew. Instantly, you were on two feet again, standing before your lord, your friend, and your infatuation. “Apologies,” you dropped your head, “I didn’t mean to cause you any worry.”
He gently, with his thumb and forefinger, tilted your head back up. A small frown tugged on the corners of his lips. “I only worry for you. Please, tell me, what has troubled you?”
A heat flushed over your chest. Eons spent together. You had always been close with him, but now since this startling revelation nothing had been the same. Steeling your emotions, you snipped the wings of those pesky butterflies fluttering inside your chest. You smiled easily. “Nothing to worry you, my lord.”
Please, I told you to forgo such formalities, he thought.
His frown stayed. He searched your eyes for any tells. Seeing none, he sighed, dropping his hand from you. You desperately fought back from chasing after his delicate, comforting touch. “If you say so,” he muttered. “You just seem distracted lately; and dare I say avoiding me.”
You swallowed down your nerves. “Never, my lord.”
“Are you unwell? Perhaps, displeased?”
“Displeased?”
His frown deepened. “With your duties? Your life?”
“What? No, no, never.”
“Then why do I not know what you are thinking of anymore? I prided myself in always knowing what thoughts were behind your clever eyes. But, now? I feel as if I am looking at a stranger.”
You were a stranger.
You were a different person now. You had to hide your truest self. You always spoke freely with Dream. One of the few who did not fear his wraith; the others being Lucienne, Merv, and Jessamy.
You stepped back, pulling away from him.
“Lucienne, I - I don’t know what to do with myself.”
You snuck into the royal library, pulling Lucienne aside to speak with her. You needed to tell her what you had been feeling lately - confide in her. Hopefully, she can shed some light on this developing situation. She was your oldest friend, you trusted her and hid nothing from her.
Lucienne smiled to herself, shaking her head. She peered over the rim of her glasses and cocked her brow. This certainly was amusing for her - as if she didn’t already didn’t deduce your feelings for the king. “I believe you know exactly what you must do.”
I can’t, you vehemently thought. “But what if -“
“I never thought there would be a day you would fear him.”
You huffed. “Fear him? I do not fear -“
“I am only teasing you,” she said, sensing your displaced hostility.
You grumbled, but with Lucienne you could never stay mad at her. Your lips already twitched upward, showing her your anger was more for show and dramatics.
She gently took your hands. “Tell him. You know it is the right thing to do.”
She knew your feelings of Dream before your own realization. She knew you the best. You were always the closest to him, but she noted all the subtle changes in your demeanor. And so, she only waited for this day to happen, for you to come to her with your own revelations. Of course, she would never admit it to you, but her and Mervyn may or may not have placed bets on you.
You glanced down at your hands in hers. “I … I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t.”
You wanted to scoff. Dream’s past lovers did not end happily. Heartbreak and ruin seemed to follow him like a leech sucking on any joy he may have.
“It’s not easy, but to say nothing would be worse.” Lucienne squeezed your hands, giving you a douse of courage to act. “Would you truly be happy saying nothing?”
You paused. Would you? You sighed heavily, “No, I don’t think I would.”
“Then tell him.”
You agreed, almost hesitantly. “I will.”
Now, Lucienne’s words tossed around your head, that simple question which cut directly to your core: would you truly be happy saying nothing?
You looked to Dream, meeting his gaze once again. Just as easy as he could read you, you could read him. Confusion and worry plainly written in his dazzling eyes. Taking a deep breath, you started to unveil the truth, “I am truly sorry for making you worry, it was never my intention.”
“And what was your intention?”
You thought about it for a moment, considering the correct word then said, “Self-preservation.”
Dream’s eyebrows knitted together. “How so?”
You took a tentative step forward back towards him. “In a way, you were right that I am a stranger. I have discovered something about myself recently.”
Dream stayed quiet, letting you speak without interruptions - letting you come to him.
“It was scary, and I never expected it would happen, yet here I am.” You stepped closer. Your heart raced frantically in your chest. “I hope you do not hate me for what I am about to say and allow me to stay here in the Dreaming.”
Dream tilted his head. “I have never found myself hating you for any reason, nor do I think such a thing would happen. And I would never banish you from the Dreaming for it is your home, but you do have me slightly more worried now.”
You reached out. You hooked your index finger around his pinkie, slowly drawing him to you. “Centuries, eons, spent together and I have adored every second. I love my life, I love everyone here, and - and … I’ve always loved you, a platonic love. However, it has changed recently.”
Dream’s eyes fell to your finger hooked around his. Slowly, unsure if was hearing you correctly, his hand turned and his fingers threaded in between yours. You didn’t move, you didn’t run.
You let out a shaky breath, relieved but absolutely frightened.
“If I am wrong, tell me.” Dream said as he met your eyes again. “Although I have said you have become a stranger, that was not quite true. It was I who had also changed. But -“
Your heart constricted.
“But, I feel as if I should warn you.” He grabbed both of your hands, ensuring you listened fully to him. “You know of my past for you were always part of it. You know of my relationships and the inevitability which always seems to follow. I am telling you this to ask you now: is this what you want?”
You gazed into his sky blue eyes. Trepidation evident in his eyes. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, tears of fear and potential heartache. He tried desperately to hide it, but nothing could be hidden from you. You reached up, cupping his face and carefully brushed away the tears. “If you will have me, then yes.”
“You will always have an out, the door will always be open for you to leave.” He said it, but he did not wish it to be true. He wanted you here, he wanted you by his side for eternity.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“Possibly.” You brought his face closer to yours. “But, would I be happy if I left now without trying? No, I don’t think I would be.”
You kissed him. His lips were like petals, soft and warm; like a fresh spring flower after a terribly rough winter. You exhaled as your heart swelled up in your chest. However, his lips moved slowly, methodically.
Measured and unsure.
Scared.
But, quickly, his restraint melted. He grabbed your waist, flushing your bodies against his. He was feverous. He tilted his head, and parted his mouth. His tongue slipped inside. Oh, all the years he wished to taste you. And now he has. So sweet, so delectable.
You hummed.
Oh, he loved that noise.
He pulled away, and pressed his forehead against yours. Hearing your breathlessness, his heart fluttered. He did this. It was his doing. And now, only he could conjure it, only he could steal your breath. And in turn, so can you. You could steal his attention, take his breath as your own, draw out desires and sinful sounds.
You were his.
And he yours.
Initially, you thought yourself a fool, locking yourself in the gilded cage of blind love.
No.
Morpheus, finding your key to your gilded cage, unlocked it. He guided you out, meeting you halfway. You would not be trapped, confined, to him, but his equal - his partner. And if you still saw yourself bound to a cage, he would step inside locking said door behind. The two of you locked together, either until the universe collapsed or maybe - and unlikely in either of yours’ eyes - until one of you moved on. But, until then, it would be beautiful. Each of you would lead with your heart, each of you would bare your soul, each of you would love each other wholeheartedly.
So, you thought this was it.
You and Dream. And the Dreaming.
Your combined love was limitless. He was the world: the sky with its assortment of colors, the sturdy ground providing its nurture and care, the bottomless oceans with its secrets, and the rising mountains reaching unknown heavens. While you were the important details: the intricate woven web of animals and balance, the imperfections from nature adding to individuality, the innate curiosity and creativity of people and their arts and inventions, and the unbelievable hidden wonders in an expanding world.
You gave life - purpose - to his world.
However, as you each predicted, it did not last. Trouble stirred off in the distance. Your world would soon shatter. A nightmare, one you knew fondly, escaped to the Waking, and Dream must retrieve him before the damage becomes too much. When Dream told you he was going to the Waking, a horrible feeling sunk to the pit of your stomach. You wanted to grab him and hold him close, forbidding him from leaving. You wanted to beg and tell him to forget about the Corinthian. You wanted to lock him away. But, there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t stop him, even if you fell to your knees pleading with tears in your eyes. Although you loved him and all his imperfections, his senses of responsibility and pride knew no bounds. He had to do this. So, you wordlessly watched as he walked away - walked out of your life.
Days passed.
Slowly, painstakingly slow.
You mostly kept busy with your duties, much like all the dreams and nightmares during this period. You all worked as if nothing has changed: overseeing dreams, ensuring order in the chaos, and documenting anything unusual.
Weeks then crawled by.
The first whisper of doubt started: Dream would not return, Dream had abandoned his duties. Yet, as quickly as those whispers started, they were silenced. Dream will come back. Everyone believed he would, and so did you.
How naive.
Months became years.
Fiddler’s Green vanished. He took his greenery - all those lush fields and extravagant flowers - and left to go to the Waking. And not knowing, he also took all your precious memories of Dream with him. Moments under the shade of a tree side by side, moments of strolling along a worn down path, moments of soft unspoken love ripped away like a weed.
“I wish to see the Waking for myself,” Fiddler told you before he left. “I do not know if Dream has abandoned us or not, all I know is I wish to see other worlds, to hear others’ stories. If he does return, then maybe one day I will too.”
You smiled, despite the heartbreak. “And I wish you the best, Fiddler.”
He returned the sorrow filled smile, and kissed your forehead. “Do find me when he comes back. I will miss your presence amongst my trees.”
The next to leave was Gault. She slipped away, like a shadow slinking back into the darkness. She was one to always keep to herself. She didn’t speak to anyone about her leave; she simply left, taking her nightmares with her.
As years passed - decades - the Dreaming started to crumble piece by piece and most left seeking refuge elsewhere or looking for new purpose. Dreams and nightmares gone. While the poor dreamers could not pass into the Dreaming anymore, the doors shut until its lord returned.
If, he returned.
“Our lord will return,” Lucienne said to you.
You were both in the library. You sat on top of a long barren table - one which used to hold multiple dreamers who would read side by side or possibly write out their own stories - while Lucienne stood on the end scanning through her own notes and hand drawn maps. Books were disappearing and she was trying to make note of it all from what books, in what section, and so forth. Even now parts of the library were beginning to be blocked off. She needed to write everything down, she needed to do her duties for the library - for the sake of the Dreaming.
“I’m not so sure,” you muttered. Your gaze was ahead directed on a stained glass window, one of the many in the library. The beautiful mosaic had a notable crack running through the middle and splintered out. A strong wind could blow through, sending shards everywhere.
Lucienne peered up from her work. This was the first time you had ever spoken your doubts out loud. But, she knew you had lost your faith long ago. A frown had permanently etched into your face since Dream left. Your eyes once bright were now awfully dull.
“I believe it.” You lazily looked over, meeting Lucienne’s determined eyes. She continued, “Lord Morpheus will return. He would not abandon us.”
“I fear you are the only one who believes that.”
“Do you truly think Morpheus has left? Do you believe he has left the Dreaming, all his responsibilities- you? You are the closest to him, surely you would have known something if he were to leave indefinitely?”
You dropped your head. “I have known Morpheus for eons, but that does not mean I understand him completely. He withholds many things from me. If it may cause me any distress he will not say, and although I appreciate the concern and sentiment in the end he only closes himself off. The distress unfortunately always comes from him, from his duties, from holding the collective unconsciousness. His pride does not allow him to burden others -“ you sighed -“ no matter how much I used to tell him otherwise.”
Lucienne frowned. “So, you truly don’t know where he may be?”
She assumed you must know something. But, she was terribly wrong.
“No, I do not.” You leaned back on your hands, staring back at the cracked window. “And in a strange way, I hope he doesn’t return.”
Lucienne blinked, stunned. “What? Why?”
“He deserves to rest, Lucienne. If the Dreaming stayed, and if other realms were not affected, then yes I would wish for him to venture off to other worlds, to run from all of this.” You hopped off the table. “I wish I could take away all his responsibilities, all his worries. He always carried so much.”
Lucienne was unsure how to respond, but a question did strike her. “Do you not wish for him to come back? To not come back to you?”
“Of course, I do.” You spun around, facing her. For the first time, Lucienne finally noted your watery eyes. “Of course, I want him back. I miss him dearly, and my heart breaks constantly. But, if he is happy elsewhere, then why am I to deny that for him?”
“You would compromise your own happiness?”
“I would do so much more for him.”
“And what of you? Who looks after you?” Who looks after your happiness, she thought.
“… myself.”
“(Y/N) -“
“I think I will leave to go to the Waking.”
She closed her mouth. Her concerns and questions were now redirected: you were leaving. “The Waking?”
“Yeah,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “and I think you should come with me.”
“Go with you?”
“Yes.”
“But, the Dreaming?”
“I cannot stay here anymore, Lucienne. Like I said, my heart breaks constantly. I cannot stay in our bed any longer, I cannot escape this vast bitter coldness. I have to leave.”
Lucienne frowned. “I understand.”
You walked towards her and grabbed her hands. “Please, you should come with me.”
Lucienne smiled, a beautifully regrettable smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
You nodded, trying to hide your pain. You swallowed down the swell of emotions. “I figured.”
Lucienne gently squeezed your hands, reassuring and loving. “Go,” she whispered, as she battled her own emotions.
‘Don’t worry about me’ was the underlying message.
Tears welled up in your eyes. “I will not forget you, Lucienne.”
She laughed, despite tears springing from her own eyes. “I would hope not.”
You smiled as tears slid down your cheeks. You yanked her forward, throwing your arms around her. “Please, I hope you are not angry with me.”
“Never,” she whispered.
“If you ever need me, find me - call for me. I will do whatever you want.”
“I know.”
She didn’t say ‘I will’. She didn’t wish to call upon you, to drag you back here to your misery. She wished for you to prosper, to smile joyfully again.
You needed to live for yourself. No longer were you an ethereal dream aiding the Dreaming, no longer were a loving partner to Morpheus, no longer were you a kind and endearing friend, you were now on your own. You were on a journey of self discovery.
You tightened your arms around her once more, before reluctantly releasing her. Your eyes shone with tears and smiled through the heartache. “I love you, Lucienne, one day we will see each other again for that I am certain.”
“I will await here to see you both return. And I wish you the best, (Y/N).”
Your heart broke. “Goodbye, Lucienne. Please tell those left I wish them the best.”
“I will. Goodbye, (Y/N).”
You left rather quickly, briskly walking away and not daring to look back. You didn’t wish to see Lucienne’s tears, see the now dusty library with cracks in the foundation; you wanted to preserve all the memories, cheerful and happy.
Standing outside the gates of the Dreaming, you stared off across the vast, empty grey beach. You had nothing on you, for there was nothing you could carry. In the distance, a call hummed - a tug of the universe ready to open to other realms. You tentatively glanced over your shoulder. The grandiose gates of the Dreaming were closed, locked behind you. You sighed. Memories of all your life spent in the Dreaming rushed by: memories of your friends, memories of Morpheus. So bittersweet. “May we meet again … hopefully.”
You leapt into the air.
When you landed in the soft sand, you landed on four paws and with a tail that swished back and forth. Without looking back again - knowing you may never leave if you did - you calmly strolled forward, letting the sand swirl around you. It completely clouded your vision. Yet, you kept walking, drifting away from your home to an unknown world. The soft uneven sand under your feet became rigid and sturdy. The dark cloud of sand faded, revealing a bright sunny afternoon filled with countless faces and colorful structures. The once deafening silence, and chill, of the Dreaming replaced by a chorus of chatter and buzz of life. As the last drop of sand vanished, you found yourself in an alleyway in a bustling vibrant city. People passed by, living their lives. While you, an unsuspected dream, was now amongst their population.
Or in their eyes, a simple house cat.
For the first time in years, you were thrilled with the uncertainty and possibilities to come. You had a glimmer of hope fluttering in your empty chest, you had a joyful twinkle slowly returning in your hardened eyes.
It was a fresh start.
But, you were woefully unprepared for what the fates would send your way.
It had been years since your arrival to the Waking. You traveled, walking among the humans as one. You tasted exciting new dishes, learned different languages, visited amazing places, and met interesting people. However, you met people, you did not let them in. No friends, no relationships of any kind. Your heart could not bear it. So, you only watched humans and life from a safe distance, skirting its edges to save your heart from any trouble.
He, on the other hand, disregarded any and all barriers you put up.
“Well, hello, look at you.”
You - in feline form this late morning - perked up from your spot, sunbathing in front of a cafe. The owner, a sweet elderly lady, was always pleased to see you and left treats out occasionally. However, it wasn’t the owner who greeted you, it was a man. A man wore a tweed jacket, black turtleneck, and glasses perched on his nose. He had a kind, gentle face - one found in stories of princes and heroism. His eyes held worldly knowledge and strangely bountiful hope.
The man crouched down in front of you, extending his hand out as a greeting. You wanted to turn your nose away, but something told you not to. Curiosity? Possibly. To ease your burning new curiosity, you accepted his hand and sniffed it: dried ink, old papers, coffee, old cologne, mixed with potential and nostalgia.
He certainly was a strange one.
The man smiled excitedly, elated to see you have accepted him. He slowly scratched the top of your head and soon behind your ears. You unconsciously pushed your head into his hands. So kind, so comforting. A part of you ached deeply over his simple touch.
“Do you have a family? A home, little one?” He asked out loud.
“No, she doesn’t.” The man perked up, looking at the cafe owner. She smiled at the man and you. “She just appeared one day. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she always comes back.”
The man turned his gaze back onto you. A frown tugged on his lips. “So, no home?”
“No home.” The owner confirmed.
The man continued to scratch at your ears. An idea slowly pieced together in his head. “Do … do you think I could take her?”
You flinched, surprised by his offer.
“Well, that’s up to her now, isn't it?” The owner chucked. “You can try, but if she runs off then do not run back here to me to complain.”
The man wasn’t sure why he wished to take this random cat. Possibly to fill a void, fill a space in his vacant apartment. There was a draw he couldn’t quite place or understand. He glanced back down at you, while you stared up with wide eyes. “Would you like that? A home?” He asked with that lovely smile.
Home.
Oh, how you ached for the Dreaming, for Dream. Your wondrous Morpheus.
You had no where, and being free meant no home. And deep down, you craved it. You craved a home, but your only home you ever had was one you could go back to. At least, not now or maybe ever. You needed a new home. And maybe this insane encounter with this stranger could be that. Not permanently, but for just a few years. A few sweet years. You purred. The man smiled bright and wide, taking it as a ‘yes’. With a helping hand - and a warmth you haven’t felt in ages - he delicately scooped you up.
“Let’s get you home,” he whispered.
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Text
Of Nightmares and Darkness | Morpheus x fem!reader
Description: your infatuation with Morpheus starts with a nightmare, how will it end?
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Warnings: +18, Filthy SMUT, angst, nightmare description, claustrophobia (confined spaces), nyctophobia (fear of dark), praising kink, degrading kink, fem!masturbation, oral (male receiving), Dom!Morpheus, sub!reader. Fluff at the end.
Words: +5k! Got extremely carried out, felt Tumblr needed much more Morpheus smut.
Song suggestion: Crazy in love - Sofia karlberg.
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Every night, falling asleep was the hardest thing you had to do. Not because you had trouble sleeping, but because of the nightmares that haunted you.
Every. Single. Night.
Sighing, you plopped on your bed staring at the ceiling, you fell asleep easily every night worn out from work, but you always woke up in the middle of your sleep panting, heavily sweating, clutching your chest to ease the tightness that's crushing your lungs. It could happen several times in one night. Different nightmares. Different stories.
You -like many of other people- suffered from some phobias, but you bet not all people dream about them.
In your room you always had a small light on, you didn't dare sleep -or sit- in a completely dark room. Your room was noticably wide, making the rest of the apartment look small, but you also couldn't bear the idea of staying in a small or closed space. You felt like you couldn't breathe or think.
Trying to stay awake, you grabbed your phone and started to look up "Dreams". Every other night you choose a topic to read about, and today was dreams, since you scarcely had a nice one.
Link after link, site after site, there was one thing that caught your attention as you yawned, a quote, or rather a poem? You didn't know, it said:
"Call for Morpheus,
He shall save you from the dark,
Call for Morpheus,
He shall guide you to your light"
Sitting upright in your bed, your stomach churning, you didn't know why you had this feeling in your gut that you were meant to see this.
Hesitating, your fingers hovered over the search bar, you took a deep breath then wrote: Morpheus.
Morpheus
God of dreams and nightmares, king of the dreaming.
God of dreams? And nightmares? You didn't want to believe this. No, you really didn't. But we all know the saying.
Curiosity.
You started digging more into the matter, searching deep, you found a sketch drawn, you didn't know to whom it belonged, if it's real or not. A sketch of a slender, pale man, high cheekbones, ruffled black hair, long black coat with a raven on his shoulder, a ruby adorning his neck, and a leather pouch in his hand. Underneath the image you saw the name: Morpheus.
Checking the time you found it nearing midnight, you exhaled loudly, closing all the tabs, not wanting to read anymore or let the matter get into your mind. Switching on the little lamp, you pulled up the covers and slept on your side, facing the window in your room.
Darkness. Tight space.
You felt trapped in a coffin. It was pitch black, you couldn't see your own hand, your breathing quickened, feeling your hands tremble and your legs shake, you started gasping loudly, feeling the adrenaline going so high you thought you'd pass out. That'd be more merciful than what you're feeling now. You knew it was a nightmare, but you could feel it in every sense of the word, as if it was really happening to you. Your bones weakening, hands grasping your shirt fighting to breathe. Suddenly you remembered the words you read:
"Call for Morpheus,
He shall save you from the dark,
Call for Morpheus,
He shall guide you to your light."
Fighting to speak and breathe, you started saying his name as much as you could.
"Morpheus." Gasping.
"Morpheus." Panting.
"Morpheus."
You felt darkness swallow you until you couldn't breathe anymore, your sight fading...
************************
Morpheus opened his eyes abruptly, sitting on his throne, he heard his name being called. He thought it was chanting or, perhaps, someone praying. But then he heard the desperation in the voice, the pants, hard intakes of breaths. Morpheus found himself in your nightmare, everything dark. He saw you struggling to move, clutching your chest desperately, your other hand on your imagined coffin trying to steady yourself, you kept calling his name until he thought you'd faint. Swaying his coat, stars littered the darkness around you, small light dots swirled around you, the darkness lightening bit by bit.
Swiping his hand, galaxies and bright, big stars erupted in fire works as the coffin turned into a vast space, the universe itself surrounding you, you almost felt like floating..
Eyes watering from the intensity, your breathing evened, your lungs were full of oxygen again, adrenaline lessining, you sat upright looking in front of you, seeing a hazy figure, no matter how hard you squinted you couldn't see him...
You woke up with a startle. Looking at the clock you saw it was nearly 5 in the morning. For your usual non-existing sleeping program, that was progress.
Pulling off the covers, you went into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, you weren't used to sleeping for long periods anyway. Having eaten, you took a bath to relax, today was your day off anyways and you didn't want to waste it moping at home. Wearing your sneakers you went out for a run. Mind wandering to Morpheus, you remembered your nightmare, the words you read, the name you called for and the epic change from the worst nightmare to the most beautiful of dreams. You remembered the hazy figure you saw in front of you. Passing the library you halted your tracks. Entering it, you started searching through the books, not really knowing what you're searching for. Passing by Greek Mythology books, you saw a dark blue cover, golden letters carved into the leather: Morpheus.
Your breath hitched and your pulse quickened, your shaky hands extended to get the book. Opening it, you found some pages in Greek while others were in English, which was probably impossible to find.
Sitting, you started reading:
"In the darkness, Morpheus, the God of Dreams, awakened to a world where he and only he wielded power. As the Son of Hypnos and Pasithea, Morpheus is very powerful. The fact he was able to put the Gods of Olympus and most of Greece to sleep with little effort, he is a force to be reckoned with. Morpheus is able to put mortals and gods to sleep. As the God of dreams, Morpheus has the power to manipulate the dreams of others, both Gods and mortals. Morpheus creates both dreams and nightmares. Everything in the dreaming world is under his command. In your sleep, you belong to him."
Your body shivered to the words, other pages had sketches to what Morpheus might look like, some sketched him as a demon, some with wings, but the most fascinating were his sketches as human. His face was sharp, body covered in his black coat, eyes shining with golden specks, similar to the sketch you saw yesterday, you suspected he was the one in your dream.
Weeks passed by as your infatuation with Morpheus grew heavy, by the time you almost had no nightmares, all your dreams were about him and him only. You knew you had gone insane, all this sleep loss made you obsessed with the God of dreams. When you slept, you pictured him standing in front of you, tormentingly close, his cool breath almost fanning your face, plush pink lips hovering slightly over yours. Every time you move to touch him, you wake up.
The lights went out one night, the whole street was dark, moon light wasn't that strong.
You were so restless you couldn't close your eyes, you started writhing in the bed, what if you're late to work tomorrow? Will they finally fire you? How will you find another job? Are you always gonna be this lonely? When will the light return? Why is it so dark? Why does the room feel so small?
Thought swirled quickly in your mind, panick immensed inside of you, making it hard for you to lay on your bed, you got up feeling light headed. Your head pounding, legs weak, you didn't know what to do.
"Morpheus" You panted in the air as you leaned into the wall, your lungs collapsing as anxiety took over you.
"Look at me" A deep, rough voice echoed through your room, barely reached your ringing ears. Arms held your hands as you clung tightly to the man in front of you. Feeling yourself being seated, your hold tightening on the man's arms.
"Look me in the eyes." You raised your head slowly, gasping softly as you were met with the face that conquered your dreams for many nights.
He sat you on the bed, kneeling in front of you, holding you in your place, his hands leaving your arms to plant themselves on both sides of your bed.
"Are you feeling better?" He asked. His voice melody to your ears, raspy and deep, it shook your heart violently. Your head spinning, not knowing how to answer you nodded, way too slow for him to believe so. He kept his gaze focused on you, your eyes studying him, his features, his hands, long fingers graced the bed sheets, marble white body clad in black clothes, the famous black coat that you dreamt of countless times.
He noticed your eyes travelling all over him. Standing up, he walked around your room, studying it. His eyes fell on a book, Morpheus.
He glanced at you, watching you fiddle with your hands in your lap, biting your lip nervously. He almost smirked, but he wouldn't yet give you that satisfaction. Morpheus knew how infatuated with him you were, your dreams of him, your fantasies of his coat, his body. He saw it all and he knew you knew that. Skimming the pages of the book, he wondered if you'll ever break the silence.
You eagerly eyed him, his stance powerful in the dark room, now lit by a small white lantern in the corner, which you were sure belonged to Morpheus. Your heart beat rapidly, you remembered your dreams. There's one sinful dream you were ashamed of.
His coat splayed on the bed, you sleeping naked over it, your legs wide open, you were so horny and wet that you had floods between your legs, covering your folds, your clit, dripping down your inner thighs. You were in your room, dimly lit, a scent of magic and stardust in the air, your hands moving from your neck down to your breasts in a teasing motion, your fingers twirling both your nipples making your pussy gush juices, you moaned at the feeling, you wanted them to be Morpheus', not yours. You sighed as your right hand moved down your waist, gripping your hip bone making your back arch, knowing this is a soft spot. Travelling lower, your fingers started massaging your folds agonizingly slow, imagining them to be Morpheus' fingers teasing you, edging you. Picturing his face between your legs, you entered one finger into your cunt, followed by another, wanting to feel full to the brim, you started imagining his throbbing cock, tip red and swollen, you moaned at the thought. You brought your other hand to play with your clit as you started moving your fingers faster, circling your clit in rhythm with your fingers.
"Oh, God yes." You panted, feeling your walls flutter around your fingers. "Morpheus" you moaned loudly, "Morpheus, please. I need you." You whined loudly, feeling your pussy clench. "Need your mouth on my lips, my tits, fuck yes," you arched your back as you felt his coat brush against it, intensifying your pleasure. "Need to feel you inside of me," you sigh dreamily as you felt your pleasure coming to an end. "Need to feel your mouth between my legs, fuck me raw until I can't breathe. Ruin me for all men." You gasped as you started rocking your hips into your fingers. "Morpheus, fuck yes, Morpheus please." You moaned sinfully as your orgasm washed over you, your body shook over the coat, your fingers thrusting inside of you helping yourself ride your orgasm, the finger on your clit moved to your left tit to grip it tightly. Your body stilled, heavy breaths filled the air as your room screamed sex.
Blushing furiously after remembering your dream, your eyes followed Morpheus' every move, until he turned to face you, walking to where you're sitting, coming to a stop directly in front of you. He was very tall, compared to you sitting, he hovered over you, your face meeting his torso, you felt ashamed you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.
"Eyes on me." You heard him. He wasn't asking, it was an order.
Your eyes travelled slowly up until they fell on his.
"Isn't it rude not to greet who you've sinfully longed for?" He looked down at you, feeling his breath fan your face your body shuddered in delight.
"It is." You answered.
"So you can speak." He said, faking amusement.
"I wondered when will that pretty voice of yours come out, considering that day my whole realm heard you screaming my name. Begging for me." His voice lowered even more, eyes daring you to deny. Your cheeks fired, hands felt sweaty, you felt trapped. His gaze was a hunting one, a predator's gaze to his prey.
"I'm sorry" you said, feeling nervous but aroused, your wetness soaking your shorts.
He clicked his tongue, fingers grazing your cheek. "That's not the answer I am looking for." The back of his hand travelled down to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. Your skin lit fire in the places he caressed.
"What was it the answer you're looking for?" You asked. His eyes snapped up to yours.
"This." Lips dipping to the curve of your neck, he kissed you very lightly, then he started sucking the spot making your body jerk towards his as the loudest of moans left your mouth. Your moans were slutty to say the least, and he didn't even do anything to you yet.
"So eager. So hungry for me. Tell me, what is it you crave in me?" He leaned back, standing straight as he looked at you. You were breathing heavily, chest heaving as you felt your blood raging to your core.
"I," you shut yourself. This was your chance. Choose your words wisely. "I need all of you. I want you to give me everything you have." You said as excitement filled your eyes.
He chuckled.
"You can't handle that."
"I can. Try me."
"Are you daring me, mortal?" Challenge covered his eyes. You felt your nipples harden, your hands shaking as you felt the seam of your shorts against your clit, you craved friction.
"Yes." You hoped you won't regret that.
In a second, you found yourself spread on the bed, completely naked, all your clothes lost. You gasped, mind clouding with heat, needing friction between your thighs, you rubbed them.
Morpheus hands came down on your knees, pushing your legs apart so wide to the point you felt them strain, you felt his long coat under you, as he rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up.
"You. Need a lesson in discipline." You instantly moaned at his words.
"Such a dirty woman." He said, eyes hungry.
Morpheus licked his lips eagerly, eating your body with his eyes.
"Lay down on your front, ass up." Commanded his voice. Your core was dripping by now and the position you're about to take will make you completely exposed to him.
You did as he asked feeling shy all of a sudden, you kept squirming under his gaze, trying to close your legs so he won't see how wet you are.
You felt his heat behind without him touching you, so close to you feeling the ghost of his pants.
You felt one of his hands caress your inner thigh.
You felt him lean forward until his mouth was beside your ear, his breath fanning your neck.
"Open those legs for me, this position was not made for you to hide from my eyes." Each word felt like a sin coming out of his mouth, you kept from moaning as you nodded your head. His right hand caressed your ass gently, travelling up to squeeze your hip, waist, reaching the curve of your breast, Morpheus caught your tit in his hand kneading it slowly feeling you shiver under him, his eyes glued to your side as your mouth hung open, eyes closed.
"Looking so good for me" he said almost lovingly, you whimpered as his fingers took turns rolling your nipple and rubbing it, God you could cum like that.
"Please" you whispered trying to buck your hips backwards but the hand on your inner thigh gripped it painfully.
You felt his hand leave your breast, coming in contact with your ass. Feeling the pleasure your head rolled back to look at him. You saw his eyes turned to the darkest shades of green with a rim of gold.
"I will punish you first, then the rest comes, if you deserve it." He said as his hand left your inner thigh making you whimper in pain, only for it to grip your neck, choking you softly making you gasp.
His hand slapped you in the same spot making you wiggle touching his pants.
"Now you wouldn't want to ruin my pants, do you?" His face came so close to yours as his hand kept choking your neck, craning it backwards to meet his gaze. You shook your head, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes, feeling your cunt burn for the King who's handling you too good for your mortal brain to comprehend.
"Choose your punishment"
"Slap me"
"Where?"
You move your pussy back to touch him making him exhale at your wetness.
He flipped you around, hands hovering over you, eyes boring holes into yours.
Morpheus smirked as his hand slapped your pussy hard, making you buck your hips up, moaning loudly.
"Count for me"
"One"
Slap. "Two"
Slap. "Three"
You felt your core weeping, feeling your wetness on the curve of your ass, your legs inhumanely wide just to please him.
By the time he hit the tenth slap, you were a shivering mess below him, tears streaming down your face, hands grasping his coat tightly, whimpers of his name leaving your lips like a prayer.
Morpheus' hand came up to caress your cheek tenderly, his face coming so close, his lips brushed against yours. "What was it you said? Ruin me for all men?" He asked, your eyelids fluttering shut at the proximity of his voice, his warm lips.
"I think, I'll ruin you for all gods."
Morpheus' cool hand cupped your core making your eyes snap open, gasping softly, his cool hand a relieving contrast to your burning core.
"I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me."
"Yes, m-my Lord." You struggled to say as you tried to buck your hips into his hand.
"Someone's seeking relief and being obedient."
Standing up, Morpheus unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes following his every move until it ended on the floor, your mouth agape at the heavenly sight greeting you, he belonged with marble statues not your bedroom.
His hands went lower to his pants, unbuttoning and discarding them, you can see now how hard he is, his cock straining hard against the fabric, you crawled to him, face level with his boner, you looked at him for permission.
His jaw went tense before nodding. Sitting up on your knees, you caressed his chest with your hands, feeling every ridge and every muscle, his skin soft and cool to touch. Your hands reached the hem of his garment, you felt his pulse beneath your hands, breathing softly you undressed him, watching his swollen cock spring free, your mouth watered involuntarily wanting to taste him, feel him throbbing against your tongue as you lick the vein on his base.
"Lay back."
You looked up at him, worried that he won't let you taste him. He smirked knowingly.
You crawled back up the bed until your head hit the pillows, he came after you, straddling your torso, legs resting on your sides, his hand leaning on the headboard for support, his cock directly in front of your face.
Everything disappeared at this moment, you felt like cumming on the spot.
Morpheus leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth with ease, you couldn't fight him. His other hand went down to your breast, kneading it softly, thumb again brushing your nipple.
You whimpered against his mouth, feeling flushed all over, extremely weak in his arms.
"Morpheus." You panted looking at his eyes, your hand coming up to touch his on your breast.
"I want to taste you." You said looking at his cock. He let the headboard free along with your breast making you miss his touch immediately.
He readjusted your head on the pillow, giving you more space.
Morpheus' hands grabbed each of your tits, pushing his cock between them, he started thrusting slowly, feeling your soft flesh caress him, he threw his head back sucking in a breath. You watched him with awe, he could never be more beautiful, hair tousled, lips parted, neck flushed with heat. The feeling of his thick, long dick between your breasts made you look, pleasured noises leaving you. You opened your mouth, wanting him to thrust his tip in it. Knowing your need, Morpheus put his hand at the back of your neck, supporting it, he thrust his tip into your mouth. You sucked at it slowly, rolling your tongue around it while looking up at him with wide eyes. Seeing you like this, spread out for him, so hungry and willing to take him whole wherever he wants, Morpheus felt a fire ignite in his soul, his eyes burning with desire for you.
He kept thrusting his tip teasing you, making you more desperate for him, by this moment you no longer cared what you wanted, you just needed to please him properly.
You put your hand on the back of his, behind your head, guiding more of him into your mouth. Morpheus exhaled loudly, whether of relief or pleasure you wanted to give him your best.
Sitting a bit up, you adjusted so you can suck him better, you started swirling your tongue around him, doing cat licks at the tip.
Morpheus let out the first moan, one of pure ecstasy. The voices he emitted ignited you more, bobbing your head faster, taking him deeper, he wrapped your hair around the hand holding your neck, roots tugging softly you moaned around his cock making it jerk in your mouth. Morpheus head hung low looking at you in the eyes, mouth hung open in awe at your face stuffed with his cock, he thrusted deeper, feeling your throat close around his tip, you evened your breathing to prevent gagging. Letting you breathe, you took more of him until you reached his base, hugging his thighs with your arms you drove your head deeper until your nose was so close to his skin. Morpheus was a gasping mess, his pale face turned red, plump lips biting themselves to hold from filling you with his cum. He wanted to fuck his cum into you, feel it mix with your wetness as your pussy took all of him greedily.
He groaned at the thought, tugging you off him, you were gasping for breath.
Morpheus travelled down your body, lips nipping at your neck, hands holding your waist, he started marking your stomach, down to your lower belly.
Hovering over your now flooded pussy, he looked up at you and what a sight it was.
"Do you want me here?" He asked as the slightest of smirks graced his face. He was well aware of your dreams both in the dreaming and waking worlds, he was sure you needed him most there.
"I remember you needed my mouth on your lips, breasts and between your legs. Is that right?" Morpheus teased your slit with two fingers running up and down agonizingly slow , wetness collecting at the tips of his fingers. You looked him in the eye, you knew you played a game you'd definitely love to lose, but you were so turned on you didn't want to back down, you only wanted to spur him further, you wanted him to take you until you collapsed.
"I also said I wanted your majesty to fuck me raw until I can't breathe."
Sensing the sarcasm in your voice, Morpheus' face hardened. Oh fuck.
Cupping your clit with his lips, sucking at it wholly, you arched your back off the bed as you started shaking. Gasping his name you clawed at his coat under you, wanting anything to hold you down as pleasure shot straight to your nerves. Your hands tugged at his hair. You felt yourself tightening with searing hot pleasure coursing through your body, so close to cum.
Suddenly everything stopped. Tears streamed down from your eyes, your breath unable to reach your lungs properly. Morpheus took your hands off his head, pinning them above you.
"Disrespecting Morpheus and his powers. Making fun of Morpheus while your body begs for him in the most shameful ways." Morpheus moves up your body until his lips are against yours, his achingly hard cock touching your inner thigh. Fingers brushed against your lower lip, the rest of his hand on the side of your neck squeezing lightly.
"Shall I be your never ending nightmare? Everytime you close your eyes to sleep I'll be haunting your dreams, edging you, tasting you, riding you, then you'll wake up with no release. Would you want that?" You whined in protest as he entered his thumb in your mouth, holding your tongue.
"That's what I thought."
Freeing your hands, Morpheus lifted one leg on his shoulder, the other wrapping around his hips. This is it. Morpheus is gonna fuck you into oblivion.
You felt his cock at your entrance, his angry tip teasing you, going up and down your slit, he caught his cock and slapped your clit making you mewl in pleasure. Not able to take it any more, you waited until he adjusted at your entrance slowly pushing in, you bucked your hips forcefully driving his cock deep.
Both of you erupted in sinful moans, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling your soul leave your body.
Morpheus gasped, going all the way out, slamming into you feeling his tip brushing your cervix.
"Do you like it that way? Do you?" Morpheus started moving into you, slow, deep, strong thrusts driving you up the bed, his hands came to your waist holding you in place.
" Faster. Morpheus. Harder." You begged him. You were two thrusts away from cumming, being so worked up. Morpheus started moving faster, fulfilling your desires, he drove his hips harder into you, feeling you clenching around him made him growl in an animalistic way. His primal need taking over his mind, Morpheus felt your pussy tighten around him, your coil so tight it'd snap any minute, he wanted to please you and show you love at the same time.
He pressed one hand onto your lower abdomen.
"Can you feel me? Am so deep in you, ruining you for other men. Fucking you raw until you can't breathe." You were a shaky, sweating mess, all words in your brain lost, all thoughts incoherent.
One thing only vivid in your mind. Morpheus.
"Morph-eus, p-please. I n-need to c-cum for you." You begged quitely, unable to form a sentence.
"Will you be a good girl and scream for me like you did in your dream?" Morpheus rolled his hips swiftly, touching every spot that drove you absolutely wild.
"Morpheus! Fuck" you screamed so loud feeling every vein in his cock pulsing against your walls.
Groaning each time you scream, Morpheus opened your legs wider, you hugged his hips with your legs, caging him to your body, letting his weight fall over your body, he took you in his arms, your hands instantly gripping his shoulders.
The new angle made him hit your spot better, eyes seeing stars you felt your orgasm so high up you thought you'd faint. His hand came down to your clit, rubbing circles with each thrust of his.
"Let go, darling. I've got you. Give me all you've got." Morpheus' voice promised against your ear.
Screaming his name, your body convulsed in his muscular arms, feeling your orgasm shatter in pleasurable ways you couldn't imagine.
"You're doing so good for me, taking me so well like you were made for me." Morpheus praised you, chasing his own high, feeling your aftershocks against his cock, he felt your fingers holding his back, hot and needy. He drove faster into you, your second orgasm already at your door.
"Morpheus, Morpheus fuck." You moaned shamefully.
You felt his cock twitch inside of you. Your chanting of his name driving him wild. Biting his earlobe, you sucked on his pulse, your hand travelling down to caress his balls.
Morpheus groaned deeply in your ear, snapping his hips roughly, you came in his arms, convulsing like mad, feeling his hot cum fill you up to the brim.
Morpheus came and for seconds kept fucking his cum into you, listening to the noise you both made with your need for each other.
You struggled to breathe as you tried fanning yourself, coming down from your very pleasuring high.
"Was that as good as the dream?" Morpheus asked, face resting on your chest as he looked at you, still inside of you.
"Morpheus, I-" you hesitated. You didn't know what to do or say. You felt love swell your heart. You thought it was lust but now you know, you've fallen for the King of dreams.
" I've never felt this beauty, this pleasure, this love and desire." You whispered softly.
"Love? You haven't seen any love." Morpheus said. "Yet." He added quickly making your eyes snap up at his.
Slowly, his coat started surrounding you both, shielding you from the outside world, getting darker, you were starting to feel scared.
Morpheus' eyes vowed to make you safe, as the coat started shining very softly, stars with dim light shone around you. Just like your first dream of him.
The feeling was more delightful than anything you've ever felt, you felt..... Whole.
Morpheus body connected with yours like you were one, it was indeed lust-driven, but you knew you couldn't deny the flame that burned deep inside you once you found his book, you knew you'd fall for him.
"Morpheus." You whispered, playing with his hair.
"I am here, love. No need to call for me." He kissed your sternum softly you barely missed his lips.
"I feel safe." You admitted.
Morpheus' eyes shone in adoration, possessiveness and the instinct of protecting you multiplying inside of him.
He moved to your side, holding you close to his firm chest, face buried in your neck, he pecked it softly rubbing small circles on your shoulder.
Your mind wandered, what if he leaves? He has to go somehow, sometime. You felt your heart tug at the idea, picturing yourself without him.
"No need for these doubts. I am not leaving you, if I ever shall not be here, all you have to do is just call the name. Call my name. I have came to you every time you called for me, not even knowing I was there. I will always be here." He pressed a long kiss to your shoulder, your doubts faded, you wanted to feel warm and safe for once in your disturbed life.
Holding his arm tighter against yours, you relaxed into his body.
"I am crazy for you, Morpheus." You admitted in the air, coming out from you almost a whisper.
"I call it love." A rare, earnest smile adorned his lips.
You were crazy in love.
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Tell me what you think! Hope you enjoyed it xoxo
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slothgiirl · 2 years
Text
The Giving Dream
morpheus x reader. no use of y/n. smut. fucking w feelings. overstimulation. roughish. raw aka unedited w a dash of spelling mistakes probs. service top!dream.
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“Lay back,” Morpheus states in a tone that brokers no argument. The self assurance of a King was clear though he never raised his voice. He appeared even more incandescent than usual in your bedroom. You see the night sky in the lining of his coat as it fans out around him, his pale skin practically glowing.
You could see a chair piled high with clothes from the corner of your eye.
He runs his hands down your sides. His touch is a gentle caress. Morpheus hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your silky shorts and tugs them down.
You’re not wearing anything underneath.
In a mesh black bra that’s sheer, ribbons crossing over your rib cage from the band, you feel more bare than if you had been naked. It was the dark look in Morpheus’ eyes. Your entire body flushed, nipples hard.
He made you feel seen.
It’s a heady feeling that goes right to your core, knowing you held all of the Dream Lord’s attention.
The shorts pool at your ankles.
“Must I repeat myself,” Morpheus asks with his usual brand of arrogance which was infuriating, but in these circumstances, incredibly hot.
There was mirth in those glacier blue eyes.
He knows you well.
“No,” you shake your head, leaning forward, your hands on his chest. “My lord,” you whisper sultry near his ear, before sucking on his earlobe.
His breath hitches.
Then you lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows: your feet hang off the bed.
Anticipation curls your toes.
Holding your gaze with his fathomless eyes, Morpheus sinks to his knees. In a fluid motion, he discards his coat, leaving him in a black t-shirt. His arms are all corded muscle.
“Well then,” you ask him with an arched brow. Your voice is steady though the warmth under your skin grows. It’s a rush of blood to the head.
It never got old to see a King on his knees for you. It never got old to see him between your legs.
“Patience,” Morpheus utters, wrapping his hand around your ankle, “I wish to try something.”
You swallow. “Alright,” trusting him implicitly.
He lifts your leg, exposing your pussy to him. He rubs his cheek up your calf, his breath tickling your skin.
You left your other leg, resting your foot on the edge of your bed.
Morpheus kisses the crook of your knee: once tenderly, then again, pressing an open mouth kiss to the same spot.
You sigh, smiling placidly when he grips your thighs, ducking his head down low to suck a kiss on your inner thigh. His wild hair brushes against your skin. He nips at your skin before soothing the indents of his teeth over with his tongue.
The warmth of Morpheus’ breath so near your slit is dizzying. Teasingly close to your core, your cunt throbs with need.
You run your fingers through his hair, laying back entirely. The effort to hold yourself up wasn’t worth it, not when heat coiled deep in your belly. You wanted his mouth against your pussy already.
Shamelessly wanton, knowing how good he could make you feel, you cultch his hair and pull him where you need him.
Morpheus chuckles lowly. “Patience, I will take care of you.” He nuzzles his face against your mound.
Bucking your hips, you whine, “I need you now.” You needed him. Your cunt aches. Both hands curled in his dark locks, you wank him forward again.
You were wet where he’d littered your skin with kisses; you were wet with pooled desire.
“Careful,” he tells you quietly, the self-satisfaction evident in his voice. Morpheus loved having you splayed before him, entirely his. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says with a smug smirk. His hands hold you still against the bed.
The Dream Lord possessed an inhuman strength.
“Morpheus,” you plead, squirming on the bed.
He is unmoved.
“You’re wet,” he observes, nosing at your slit.
“More,” you try canting your hips again but his grip is unmalleable.
“Very well.”
And finally, your toes curled tight, Morpheus drags his tongue up your center.
You suck in a breath.
He slides his tongue into your folds, tasting you. Wetting his fingers in your juices, Morpheus opens you up even more, kissing your core while caressing your folds with his elegant fingers, he eats your pussy proving to be just as needy as you.
You moan his name, “Morpheus!”
Taunt, you arch off the bed when he swirls his tongue, teasing your entrance.
You wrap your legs around his neck, pulling him close, chasing the heat that only he could give you. You burned for him. Your body was a live wire, reacting to his electric touch.
The pressure-pleasure builds.
Morpheus points his tongue, sliding into your wet pussy.
“oOH.” Fuck, you pant. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your thighs bracket his head; he doesn’t complain.
Finding your clit with ease, Morpheus rubs his finger around your bundle of nerves, smearing your own juices around.
Your head is stuffed with cotton. There’s nothing. No one-
Just your pleasure, the tight coil in your core about to burn like a white hot blue giant.
“Morpheus!”
“That’s it my love,” he mummers against your core, “come for me.” Then Morpheus shifts, his tongue finding your clit and fuck-
You’re gone.
The mewls you make, filling the room with the most obscene moans. Your thighs tremble as you break apart for him. The white hot pleasure transforms, leaving you heady and boneless.
You card your fingers through his hair.
Still wacked out, riding the feverish post-orgasmic warmth, you shudder when Morpheus sucks on your clit. It’s too much too soon.
“fuck.” Every ministration runs down your spine like a jolt; his tongue on the bundle of nerves; the pull of your oversensitive clit as he sucks; his teeth grazing such an intimate part of you.
You throw your head back against the bed, unable to move. You can only continue to take the pleasure Morpheus gives you.
“Too. . .it-much,” you gasp.
You try to close your legs, squirming. It’s an impossible task with Morpheus there, between your thighs.
With a wet pop, he lets you go.
When he speaks, his voice is utterly wrecked. “Once more my love.” And he slides two fingers into your soaking cunt.
Your brain short circuits.
Morpheus curls his fingers inside you, before sucking on your clit again.
You bite down on your lip. It was stifling. Every touch a spark of electricity. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, relentlessly working you into another orgasm.
“I-” you shake your head, unable to form a coherent thought when you feel this amazing, boiled down into a pearl of need. You keen.
“Please,” the King of Dreams requests, “come for me,” as he kneels between your thighs. His grip on your leg is hard. He maneuvers your knee open, no longer clinging to him but giving him ever more access to you.
The change in angle when he strokes your velvet walls with his fingers steals your breath.
Fuck.
Your fingers twist into the bedsheets, holding on for dear life. Your body is aflame.
Morpheus overwhelms you.
His larves through your folds, encircling your clit. It’s a suffocating heat that you can’t get enough of. His touch is unlike any other. His fingers forever cool in your warm wet cunt, your skin buzzed where he gripped your leg, keeping your leg open. The inherent temperature play was delicious.
When he drags his tongue over your clit, fingers stretching your pussy, it becomes too much. Your vision implodes into white nothingness.
You tremble, letting the crashing wave of pleasure drag you under.
“oOHh,” you arch your back off the bed. You tremble as Morpheus continues to work you through your orgasm.
His fingers continue to stroke your walls as your pussy pulsates.
Morpheus leans forward, trailing kisses over your abdomen as you tremble under him.
You let the pleasure course through you, nothing more than a conduit.
He curls his body over yours, meeting your lips with a deep passionate kiss. You taste yourself on his mouth, whimpering when Morpheus pads his thumb over your clit, his fingers curling inside of you.
“aA-” Coherent thoughts are beyond you, let alone speak.
He drags your lip between his teeth.
“Sh,” he soothes against your lips, “you still need to take my cock.”
His words don’t even register.
When he stands, pulling his shirt over his head, an action so mundane it catches you off guard every time you fuck in the Waking World where he can’t pull dream tricks, your legs collapse. Thighs trembling, your legs dangle off the edge of the bed.
Through half lidded eyes, barely able to make sense of anything, you watch Morpheus undo his jeans.
Your skin remains feverishly warm.
“I can’t,” you whine, catching your breath while you watch him pump his cock with his hand.
“You will,” Morpheus states, his voice like the crackling of firewood. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. You sigh at his cool touch.
Then he slips his fingers into your mouth.
You lick your juices, swirling your tongue over his digits. You suck at his fingers lazily, staring into his clear eyes. Morpheus had such lovely eyes with thick lashes, his pupils blown wide with lust.
“You are exquisite.”
He rolls his hips against yours. You feel his hard cock against your core. You quiver. Overly sensitive, you were an exposed nerve.
Morpheus rubs his cockhead against your entrance, “Look at you,” he groans, taking his fingers from your mouth so he can hear you moan for him, as over sensitive as you are, “I could not have created a better dream.” His touch is sweet relief against your hot skin. “Will you take my cock?” He squeezes your breast.
A tremor runs down your spine.
His ministrations keep you intoxicated with your own pleasure. Even your orgasm had only been temporary relief when he kept stimulating you with a gentle passion: a velvet noose.
“Use your words my love.” Smugness laces his tone.
You whine, biting your bottom lip when his cock nudges against your entrance. It’s all you can do.
Morpheus tweaks your pebbled nipple. “Answer me,” he growls.
“Yea-,” you nod, unable to finish the thought.
It’s all he needs.
The King of Dreams sheaths himself inside you.
You moan, “oOH god,” his cock stretching your pussy deliciously. Having him inside you, his cock twitching as he leans his head back exposing the pale expanse of his neck looking like a living breathing Canova sculpture, pushes you over the brink of another orgasm. Your mind blanks.
It’s just Morpheus: in you, above you, nothing else matters.
Breathily, he notes, “I’m not a god.”
Your toes are curled, you arch further into him, mindless with pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his cock, gripping him tightly as you come.
He fucks into you, his pace hard as always. The extent of his desire for you was on full display when he took you. It wasn’t enough to just fuck you. He had to make you come undone for him; seeing you fucked stupid because of him; knowing it was his touch that left you breathless; that the sight of you nude and tears leaking from your eyes as he thrust into you was for him alone.
You gleamed with sweat, shining brighter than any jewel.
Morpheus drives his hips against yours, bending over your body.
He trails open mouthed kisses over your collarbones.
His cock fills you up, leaving you gasping.
You can’t think.
The pleasure hurts. Your pussy throbs with scorching heat as he drives into you.
Morpheus winds his fingers into your hair, yanking your head back against your bed. He licks a stripe up the column of your neck.
“Ah,” fuck, you moan. Morpheus.
You writhe under him, lost in a haze.
That’s fine with him.
“No clever words,” he utters hoarsely, fingers digging into your scalp. “Have I rendered you speechless?” The Dream Lord savors the words, taking his time on slow deep thrusts. He almost pulls out entirely before pushing in once more.
“You take my cock so well,” he whispers against the crook of your neck, nuzzling you.
Morpheus buries himself inside you, clutching you against him, his hands imprinting themselves into your sides.
He comes inside you.
Hot cum fills your cunt. His orgasmic fever is contagious; he drags you along with him.
You quiver, spent.
Your body sinks into the mattress.
You can’t move, let alone think. You're heavy and hot. Tears continue to stream from your eyes.
Morpheus soothes you, “rest my love.” An attentive lover, he slides his hand under your back and gently settles you further on the bed so your legs no longer dangle limply.
You curl into him, burying your face against his chest.
You’re still trembling.
He rubs your back, “you were so good for me,” he kisses your temple, “rest.”
Dream of the Endless leaves his responsibilities on hold to lay with you.
You give into the the exhaustion lulling you to sleep.
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dreamdaddymorpheus · 2 years
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Don't Blame Me | Dark!Morpheus Headcanon
pairing: dark!morpheus x human!reader warning: dark themes, yandere tendencies, major gaslighting a/n: a continuation of this request and an actual attempt at a headcanon this time. honestly idk how i got here lmao i was trying something new but the writing style is just all over the place :'D i might just stick to what i know but it's done so have it anyway fml you can actually pinpoint the exact moment i gave the fuck up lmao
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Morpheus, true to his word, will never refuse you – bar leaving him. That isn’t to say he won’t bargain with you in exchange for your affection. You want freedom to explore The Dreaming? Sit on lap for an hour every day. You want to visit your friends or your family through their dreams? Grant him a kiss. You want to visit the waking world for a day? Spend an entire day with him.
You are to address him as ‘Husband’ or ‘My Love’ at all times. He won’t accept any other terms and if you don’t want him pouty and sulky for days you will learn to oblige him.
He will never force you to lay with him against your will. He will be very tactile with you, of course, run his fingers through your hair, brush his thumb over your lips, pepper your shoulders with innocent kisses – but he will heed you without question as soon as you say ‘No’.
You will never escape him. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll see you are, in fact, the one with power over him. He will do anything to please you and gain your love again.
If you have yet to accept him, he will be extra possessive of you and any being he sees to be closer to you than him will be perceived as a threat to his position in your heart.
You learned this the hard way after visiting a friend through their dream and openly expressed how much you missed them. It wasn’t particularly intimate or affectionate, but Morpheus had been most displeased.
“What more must I do to gain even a sliver of your affection?!” He roared then. You remember walking into the heart of his palace to see him sat at the bottom step of his throne, eyes shining with resentment and his lips pursed petulantly. “I have disappointed you, I admit, in keeping you here but what can the waking world give you that I cannot?”
You stared at him in disbelief. Disappointed? Does he truly think you are merely disappointed? “You know what will make me happy.”
Rising to his full height to tower over your from, Dream of the Endless hardens his countenance as well as his heart in the face of his love, “Freedom? You think freedom will make you happy?” You hated the clear mockery in his voice as though you were asking for the impossible. “Very well then, my love.”  That should have been the first red flag. Morpheus has never once relented when it came to the subject of your freedom. He bends down to plant an open-mouthed kiss on the top of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.  
The King of Dreams then moved his open palm close to his mouth. He merely returned your look of confusion with a small smile before he exhaled a deep breath, sending a flurry of sand your way. The last thing you heard was “I exist only to serve you.”
Then…freedom. You remembered waking up in your bed, in your room, in your flat. It was bliss. Things were as you left them. You had your friends and your family. At first you feared Morpheus would make himself known to you again and rob you of the joy mundane life brought you. But he never came. Not even in your dreams. That should have been the second red flag.
Things remained the same for a long time – until it wasn’t. It started with little things, like your friends having dreams of you being unkind or inconsiderate. Silly things like that. At the beginning they would share it with you, and you’d all laugh about it. But the dreams would persist, later extending to you being violent to them. Then they’d wake up with physical evidence. What if they weren’t just dreams? They’d all wonder to themselves.
It wasn’t much different for your family – only their dreams would be memories of you. At first, they’d recognize the little changes made in the dream, but they’d experience it each night that eventually it would subconsciously replace their memory and perception of you.
Like that time you went swimming with your cousins when you were all teenagers and one of them almost drown through no fault of yours. Well, now it was your fault.
Or that time your grandmother fell down the stairs and you were definitely at work when it occurred. Well, someone recalled seeing you at the top of the stairs, looking down in delight.
In time your family and friends would slowly turn against you no matter how many times you would try to refute their claims. No, you did not try to seduce your sister’s fiancée. No, you did not hit your nephew. No, you did not kill the neighbour’s cat.
You felt everyone’s stares and heard their whispers, in your hometown; at work; in your building. You felt the weight of their judgement.
“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do any of it!” But the more you insisted the more it sounded like the ramblings of a mad woman. “You have to believe me!” They didn’t believe you.
Your family later institutionalised you, thinking it for the best. Poor Y/N. What happened to her? They’d gossip amongst themselves.
It was when you were sitting in the middle of a padded room with a straight jack forced upon you, a punishment for your misbehaviour, that you finally called out to Morpheus. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”
“Oh, my beloved wife” you heard him say not long after, voice far too sweet to be genuine but  you didn’t even care to notice in your grief, “What have they done to you, my sweet” you’d feel a ghost of a hand brush down your cheek, “The Dreaming weeps for its Queen, as do I. Mortals do not deserve you.”
“Please, Morpheus, I want…to go home.”
You thought you heard him purr, but Morpheus had yet to show himself. “Is that truly what you want, my love? I do not want to deprive of you of your…freedom.”
“I was wrong.” You could only continue to sob, so utterly betrayed, “I-I thought they cared…I thought they loved me.”
He materialized in front of you then in a swirl of sand, clad in his glorious robes of black, “Oh, but none could love you as much as I.” He bent down to cup your face in both hands, “Let me worship you, my Queen, as you rightly deserve.”
If you enjoyed this you might enjoy Fire on Fire, a Morpheus and Scarlet Witch!Reader. Very 'you and i against the world' with a dash of 'villain will sacrifice the world for you' vibes lmao (morpheus is not a villain, but he could be for you 👀)
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kpopgirlbtssvt · 17 days
Text
WAIT!!
Morpheus peeps, imagine this!!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️
A Platonic!Dad!Morpheus x 2 year old daughter fic!!
Imagine like in Monsters inc, a 2 year old little girl somehow makes it into the Dreaming, like Boo made it into the monster world. Remember how Boo wasn’t scared of Sulley and ended up following him back? Imagine the little girl not being scared of the nightmare that is there when she’s asleep, just giggling and ends up following the nightmare back to the Dreaming, and then suddenly there is a little 2 year old human girl that is running amuck in the Dreaming? The Nightmare is panicking and can’t find her, the rest of the Nightmares and Dreams are panicking because there is a tiny human child lost in the Dreaming, and because Morpheus will not be happy.😅 Anyways, Morpheus finds her first, him having gone to search for the human presence he felt appear, and hearing giggling, he finds her happily surrounded by the cats of the Dreaming. He goes to her in cat form at first, as to not startle her, but then turns into his human body form, and the little girl excitedly starts to refer to him as “Kitty”. And he gently picks her up to bring her inside to discuss with Lucienne what they should do (and he has a conversation with the Nightmare that accidentally brought her there😅). Anyways, they find out she’s all alone, doesn’t have parents, and feels safest in her dreams, even nightmares, so Morpheus adopts the little girl as his own daughter, who has become very attached to him🥹🥹
@roguelov @gh0stsp1d3r @honeybeezgobzzzzz @missdreamofendless @dragon-kazansky @thoughtsfromlayla
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luverstream · 9 months
Note
hello, i'd love to be on your anon list as 💟 anon!
i'll probably send in an ask without anon on, but could i request bf!dream headcanons? nsfw or sfw is ok :)
love, 💟
Howdy!! Welcome to my anon list!!
I ended up doing both sfw and nsfw😭
‘💟’ anon:)) tysm!!
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SFW
Bf!dream Who spoils you with gifts and kisses whenever you want, you’d think he was a sugar daddy in his past life.
Bf!dream Who will kiss and touch and love on every insecurity you have, no matter if it’s your eyes your stomach your legs, he’ll kiss you hug you and reassure you that he loves it.
Bf!dream He loves it when you wear some of his shorts, his shirts not so much but his shorts?? Wooo your in for it.
Bf!dream loves to cuddle you randomly, you could be laying on the couch, sitting on your bed, getting out of the shower, he will cuddle you naked, dressed, half dressed it doesn’t matter.
Bf!dream who comes home late after a night of fun and tucks you in no matter where you are, sometimes he will pick you up and carry you to bed with him.
Bf!dream he will help you apply your makeup if you asked, he will attempt to put mascara on you, lipstick, lipgloss, blush, anything, sometimes he will let you put makeup on him, but only when it’s just you two, he prefers to be masculine.
Bf!dream will brag about you to his friends, family, anyone who asks about you, saying things like “you guys should be jealous I have such an amazing person in my life.”
NSFW
Bf!dream who makes you look up at him while you suck his cock, he loves seeing your gorgeous eyes.
Bf!dream will definitely ask if he can eat you out whenever you guys go out for dinner, he wants dessert for sure and when you guys get home he begs for it, ((consent is key))
Bf!dream loves it when you ride him in reverse cowgirl, he loves seeing your ass bounce on him, he wants to grip your hips to tight so you can never get off.
Bf!dream who absolutely loves it when you kiss his neck, your on top of him and making out and he’s hoping your mouth moves to his neck, he wants hickeys everywhere.
Bf!dream whose obsessed with your thighs, no matter if their small, big, medium, it doesn’t matter he’ll kiss them and pick you up, making sure to squeeze them gently.
Bf!dream who does makeup sex, a lot of it, with your consent of course after an argument he will kiss, lick, suck on your entire body, you end up forgetting what the argument was about.
Bf!dream calls you a lot of nicknames, now in my opinion he doesn’t like being called ‘daddy’ as much, however he does like sweet pet names like honey, Sweets or maybe even darling.
Bf!dream Who will make you brain dead, he’ll eat you out, fuck you senseless, anything you want his cock will indeed make you cock drunk.
Bf!dream who does indeed pack serious girth..maybe not inches, but serious girth, 5inch cock with amazing girth, enough to satisfy you for sure.
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Hope you enjoyed!! Ty for the request!!
Anon list:
💟 anon
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hunny-beann · 4 months
Text
You Can; You Will...
Dream of the Endless x f!Reader
Note: Hi! This is my first time ever writing for Dream, so if anything seems a bit off or if there are any minor lore issues, please do your best not to pay them too much mind (although absolutely feel free to point them out). That said, I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and I really hope that you enjoy it!
Warnings: Uh angst(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he should be.
Word Count: 2,644
This had to be torture, surely.
Some evil method of malice created by some long forgotten god of pain.
Why else would Dream have been looking at you so?
Here, sitting in his rotting throne room, upon his crumbling dais, his expression as close to pained as you had ever seen it before.
"You have returned."
He stated matter of factly, though his eyes betrayed the solemn tone that his voice held.
It had hurt him to come back to his realm and find that you had gone with the others, more so than you ever could have anticipated or imagined. You could see it in the way that his fingers gripped at the arm rests beneath them, and in the way that his all encompassing presence seemed to shrink slightly, as if the very particles of him and his power that made up the world beneath your feet were attempting to flee from you.
You swallowed thickly, but managed a nod in spite of your nerves and the heavy weight that bore down upon your heart at the sight of the being before you.
"I have. I did not anticipate it, but I found that I was suddenly overcome with the urge to..."
The words 'go home' died upon your lips before you could say them, because in truth, you were not entirely sure if this realm truly was home anymore, not just for you, but to anything besides the endless sitting before you and his most loyal of dreams and nightmares.
His own creations.
Dream let out a soft hum in response to your words, before he carefully rose into a standing position, his coat swishing at his feet in that familiarly dramatic way that you remembered so painfully at present, and had once recalled so fondly in the past.
Now though, after over a century of having it as only a memory, a longing lodged deep within the confines of your soul, you found that it almost hurt to bear witness to his familiarities again.
You had buried the Morpheus you had once known in all ways but the physical sense, mourned and grieved him as if you had watched his demise with your own two eyes, never having a day pass you by where you did not think of him and the way that his voice had sounded, or that his hands had felt.
And now, he was standing before you so casually, and you could not help but view this figure before you as a caricature, some imposter sent to cause you even more pain than you had already endured.
Being an immortal human was a burden in and of itself, because it meant watching nearly all those that you loved die in the span of a lifetime, which to you, had long since started to feel like nothing in the grand scheme of things.
You had begged Death to take this weight from you, to let time have its way with your body, bones, and soul, but Destiny had seen to it that his sister knew better than to meddle with this particular affair.
A long dead family member had blessed you with what they perceived to be a "gift" long ago.
And now, you suffered while they lay buried in the ground in lands you had not seen nor touched in centuries.
So, once upon a time, Dream had meant everything to you.
Ever since the day you had met him, after once again grovelling with Death to let you go, he had become abundantly special in your eyes.
Because unlike almost everyone else around you, Dream could not die, not from the ticking of any clock, nor the feebleness of his own body.
He was the one thing you believed to be permanent.
And certainly, it had taken quite a while to warm up to the man, and far longer still for him warm up to you, but after enough impromptu meetings in Death's domain over multiple centuries, he had eventually indulged you when you asked hesitantly if you could see his realm, 'the dreaming' as he so fondly referred to it, for yourself.
And oh, what a sight it had been.
Lush rolling lands, fields upon fields of flowers, a palace so tall it seemed possible to view it from miles and miles away...
You had never wanted to leave.
And eventually, you would not have to anymore.
Not after you had fled to the dreaming after losing your very best friend to disease, her death so dirty and without dignity that you could scarcely bare to even consider it.
He had sensed your arrival, of course he had, for the realm was made of the very power that he possessed, but he had not sensed your woes, nor had he anticipated your sudden presence in his crowded throne room, searching for any familiar face that might serve as a reminder that you were not without some semblance of certainty, to prove if nothing else that you were not yet alone.
You had all but collapsed at the foot of his throne, eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet with tears as you regarded him with a pain he was all too familiar with, but had no clue how to comfort you about.
Loss.
'I can't do it anymore.'
You had told him with absolute certainty, hands clenched into fists as you struggled to hold back sobs,
'I can't endure this torture, I feel as if I have died a thousand deaths without ever having experienced even one.'
Morpheus reached forward, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before he sat back once more, taking note of the way that, simply due to his touch alone, you were now giving him your entirely undivided attention, breaths shaky but eyes wide and trained on him, as if you had never been touched before, or maybe as if you had never expected him to touch you in the eternity that you would experience.
'You can.'
He said, voice steady and eyes cold, though almost determined looking as he spoke.
'You will.'
You felt your eyebrows crease at his words, but Dream simply shook his head slightly before you could even open your mouth to reply.
He watched you for a few moments, before finally, he decided that enough silence had passed.
'If it is easier, you may remain in the dreaming as long as you please. All I ask, is that you do not make me regret my kindness.'
Shocked, you had nodded, before finally mustering up the strength to respond.
'But why?'
You had asked, watching as the being sitting before you sighed, his gaze traveling up toward the ceiling as he spoke,
'You will not have to watch nearly as many crumble to dust here in my domain, and I can see the toll that your immortality is taking on your feeble human mind. My sister has taken a liking to you, and I do not doubt that she would want me to take pity upon your unfortunate circumstances. To preserve someone she calls a friend, I will allow you to reside here until you give me a reason not to.'
And you never had.
For so very long now, hundreds upon hundreds of years, you had remained almost entirely within the dreaming.
You had friends here, nightmares and dreams alike, although truthfully, none captured your attention in the way that Morpheus did.
And none captured his nearly as much as you somehow managed to.
You were close, bound by some firm understanding of one another that never ceased to solidify the fact that the dreaming was your home, the place where you belonged, and Dream the very host that so effortlessly kept you rooted.
Before, there had been almost nothing for you in the way of consistency or rhythm, and now, there was an ebb and flow, a push and pull, a beat to follow, and the biggest surprise of all was that you made up half of each of these things.
Where Dream would ebb, you would flow, where he would push, you would pull, and you so very easily followed along with and eventually even progressed and changed his rhythm in a way that almost made the dreaming feel as if it had two rulers.
The dream lord,
And his once missing other half, the muse of the very land beneath your feet, and of the wind within your hair.
Until one day, that all came to an end.
The king of dreamers left and did not return.
And you could not even dare try and pick up the pieces of his realm that he left behind.
It had been a shameful abandonment, one full of pain and grief, but only a few short years after Dream's disappearance, you grabbed the scarce few items that did not remind you of him or the family that you were leaving behind, and you vanished just as he had done.
At that point, the slow but sure crumbling of the dreaming had only just begun, but your cowardice had won out over your strength, and you'd quickly found that you could not bare to see it shrink into nothingness.
'You can.'
Dream had once told you.
'You will.'
He had assured.
But you could not this time.
You likely would not ever again.
You were not the first to leave the dreaming, not by a long shot.
But your absence and the meaning that it carried rang out loud and clear for all of those who had chosen to remain.
The once so honored and beloved guest of their lord of dreams had chosen her painful mortal world over anything that the realm had left to offer...
And for many, that was all the proof that they needed that their creator would not return.
You were far from the first to leave.
But you were even further from the last.
"Did you lose faith in me?"
Dream asked suddenly, and you felt yourself gasp slightly at the question.
Lose faith in him?
Was that what you had done?
With almost no consideration for the question, you shook your head.
"No."
You said firmly, watching as the endless in front of you tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes boring into your own even from across the room and down the ruined steps,
"Never."
Morpheus took a few steps toward you, and almost instinctively, you moved to lessen the space that lay between before forcing yourself to stop, hands clenched into fists at your sides, the pain of seeing your friend, who you had believed to be dead just hours ago, too great even for longing to overcome.
Dream seemed to notice this, and stopped in his tracks, though he was now far closer than before, only a few short steps away.
"Then why did you leave so easily? Why did you abandon the life that I offered you here if you had the faith required to know that I would someday return to the dreaming? Return to you?"
Your breath shuddered at the implication that he had come back in any part for you, but you chose to ignore his words in favor of fighting off his accusations of faithlessness on your part.
"I left because I could not bear to see this world that you created fall apart around me while I did nothing. It felt as if I were watching another loved one die, and I could not deal after believing that someone had taken your life as well. I was hurting, and I found that it was easier to hurt in the waking world, where pain was familiar, than it was to hurt here, where it never seemed to bite so hard. That is why I left. But I never once lost faith in you."
Dream raised a brow at that last part, and you were quick, to clarify,
"I may have thought you dead, but I did not once believe that if you were alive, you would not come back. My belief that you were dead, my certainty in that regard, came from the immense faith that I have in you, Lord Morpheus, because I could not fathom that you ever could have abandoned us or the dreaming... After years, I ceased being capable of thinking that you were somewhere out there anymore. I did not think it possible for anything to bind you so tightly away from your duties, if not for death herself."
Dream stared back at you in response to your words, as if taking them in for several long moments, before finally he nodded,
"I see. Though I do wish you would have considered the fact that I never would have allowed myself to die knowing what I would be leaving behind."
You sighed exasperatedly,
"But we know that you would not be the first to abandon your post, my lord, not the first to leave something as fickle as your universe given duties behind. Who could have blamed you if you died in spite of these things if others were able to willingly leave them?"
Your voice was small and quiet as you spoke, unsure of how Dream might react to the mention of Destruction, even when the wound was not necessarily new anymore.
You watched as the being before you stiffened, his gaze growing ever so slightly colder, before he spun around and began making his way back toward his throne, his tone firm and serious as he replied, still facing away from you all the while.
"I was not speaking of my duties to the dreaming."
He stated simply, though you could tell by his cadence that his words were anything but.
You sighed, exasperated and fragile after all that had been said thus far,
"Well what else was it that you were leaving behind that was so important that I should have known it would keep you alive then, Dream?"
The lord of the dreaming locked eyes with you as you finished asking this question, cold piercing gaze filling you with a deep regret and an immense longing as he sat upon his throne once more, one long leg crossing over the other as he all but stared into your very soul.
"You."
He said simply, voice low and gaze unwavering as he spoke, watching as that one word alone sent you staggering several steps backward, one hand clutching lightly at your chest as your feeble human mind tried to comprehend all that had happened to you in this one day alone.
"Me?"
You whispered, voice echoing slightly throughout the empty throne room in spite of how quiet it was.
"But I am not-"
"You are everything."
Dream cut you off before you could finish, eyes still boring holes into your own as he continued to watch you from his seat, as if knowing that if he moved any closer now, that you would run, run and likely never return for fear of what any of this meant for you and for the once permanent seeming fixture that Dream had so easily played within your life for so long.
You floundered at those words, vision growing bleary and spotty as you turned to rush out of the room, to be anywhere but this pale comparison of the dreaming, the once beautiful world that you had known for so very long.
You fled your home with tears in your eyes and a hand at your heart.
Dream stayed where he sat upon his throne, and watched your fears consume you again until you faded from view.
He did not try to stop you.
A broken home like this was no place for a fragile soul like yours.
And he could offer you no better than the very world he had once so kindly rescued you from.
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writethrough · 11 months
Note
feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.
I Am Yours, But Are You Mine
(Morpheus x Female Reader)
Warnings: Minor language, suggestive situations, kinda possessive Morpheus
Word Count: 1651
A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for being so patient! Unfortunately, Morpheus has been one of those characters that I haven't been as motivated to write. And I hate forcing myself to write when I'm uninspired. Thankfully, I found sparks of it here and there.
I tried to follow your request as truly as I could (the lost of virginity didn't quite make it), but I ran with your possible catalyst options! I do think I need to work on my jealous/entitled Morpheus, though. I think he could've turned out better.
Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for requesting it!
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Images of you and that human haunted him. It was all he could think about as he sat on the staircase to his throne. How that man approached you. How he smiled, and you returned it. How he made you laugh, soft and delicate.
Morpheus’ jaw tightened, and he snapped his book shut.
Was it too late?
Had he lost you before he could have you?
He closed his eyes, trying to fight those thoughts with the ones of you and him.
How, when Morpheus appeared, you greeted him with warmth and tenderness. How you touched his arm in reassurance or when you were startled. You knew he would protect you. It was instinctual how you moved closer and tucked yourself behind him.
He had never felt more vital.
And yet, earlier, you had that same kindness for that man.
How long had you known him? When did you meet him? What was he to you?
You would have told Morpheus about any romantic partners.
His fist clenched as his arm hung off his knee.
To think, mere days ago, he had realized that he loved you. He would have been content to dedicate himself to you silently. An ever-present confidant for his heart’s deepest desire. How quickly things could change.
He had to do something.
Morpheus had grown more agitated throughout the day. The more he thought about you and that man, the darker his mind became. 
He had finished crafting new nightmares when he sensed you had entered the Dreaming.
He had to go to you. He needed to know what that man wanted from you—and if you wanted anything from him.
You didn’t need anything from that human.
He was quick to find you within your dream.
A replica of your home, which he found strange. Rarely did your dreams play out here. You were usually conscious within the Dreaming. And his heart went out to you, knowing your day must have been stressful.
He peered into your room and nearly unleashed every nightmare in his realm.
You were laid bare with that man hovering over you.
Morpheus’ knuckles whitened. And before he could think better—before he could calm himself. He swiped the dream away and sent you into the Waking World.
You woke with a frustrated groan.
Of course. Of course, you had to wake up when things were getting good.
You scrunched your nose when you recalled who had been in your dream.
You sighed. At least your subconscious knew not to dream about Morpheus in his kingdom. You might actually die if that happened.
Though, the replacement for him wasn’t all bad. You had noticed the similarities when you met him right away. Tall, black hair, lithe, but his eyes were brown and not the blue you had come to love. And where Morpheus’ presence held authority and power, the stranger’s had a shyness, a quiet confidence that you may have been attracted to in a different time. However, you only wanted one being.
You stretched before climbing out of bed.
You weren’t sure when you realized you loved Morpheus, but after you internalized it, you promised to never act on it.
There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures who had fallen for the Dream King. And yet, you had only heard of two that captured his attention. Who were you to think you stood a chance of being his? He was one of the most important beings in existence. You were a measly human—here and gone before he could blink.
You shook your head.
You were grateful for Morpheus’ friendship. He listened and held an interest in you that you couldn’t understand. You would gladly take whatever relationship you could have with him. 
You slowly got ready for your day. You had more time with your early waking and decided to do more with your makeup. It had been years since you applied makeup for someone else’s benefit. But you wondered if Morpheus would notice anything different.
Scrunching your nose again, you rid that thought from your mind. Morpheus didn’t care about how you looked. He’d told you appearances meant little to him, that it was dreaming that held someone’s true soul.
You wished you could know his.
Morpheus would’ve broken his teeth if he were human—and perhaps his wrist, too, if he squeezed any tighter.
He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the stained glass windows in his throne room.
He had stopped your dream from continuing, but the reality was different.
His entire arsenal of power was at his disposal. Morpheus could do whatever he wished to that human, but that would only end in you being upset with him—or furious if extreme enough.
No, Morpheus had to prove himself. He had to make you see that he was the only one for you—that only he could provide for and protect you—stand by you in the way you deserved.
And he’d do so tonight.
Morpheus appeared in your kitchen doorway, mind racing. Anger and fear and uncertainty beneath a stony exterior.
And then he saw you. As stunning as ever.
And it all vanished.
All except his desire to tell you.
Your kindness and strength had lured him to you the moment you met. He’d come to know how closely you held those you cared about, and somehow, he was one of them.
And the thought of letting you go, of you choosing someone else…he couldn’t fathom that.
You brought him so much peace.
You spun from your refrigerator to your island, produce in hand, and finally saw him.
“Shit, Morpheus!” You held a hand to your heart. “Give me a warning next time.”
His face remained as still as ever, but you swore you saw a passing gleam in his eyes.
“My sincerest apologies,” he said, stepping toward you.
You waved it away, half believing him.
“Want anything to drink?” you asked, chopping the first ingredient.
He scanned the food, but you weren’t entirely sure he was seeing it.
“I must ask something of you,” he said.
“Okay.” You placed the knife down. “What is it?”
“Have you found someone?”
You tilted your head, brow pinched. “Found someone?”
Morpheus never hesitated when speaking—and you weren’t sure that was the word for it now—but something made him consider his next question carefully.
“Are you spoken for?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, slowly connecting the dots.
“Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?” Your heart picked up. He had never asked something so intimate before.
“Yes.”
“No.” You licked your lips. “No. What brought this on?”
The faintest pink graced his cheeks. His eyes shifted to the side, then back.
“...You dreamt of him.” He breathed like something terrible would happen if he spoke louder.
Your heart clenched at his look of betrayal, trying to recall what he meant. Then, your eyes widened. He must have seen what happened at the coffee shop.
“Are you talking about that guy who came up to me?” you asked.
Morpheus shifted his chin downward, the most movement he used for a nod, and didn’t break eye contact.
“Morpheus…I don’t even remember his name,” you said, being as gentle with him as possible.
The space between his brows twitched. “You dreamt of him.”
Your head dropped in embarrassment.
You shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation. Although the guy had been attractive, you weren’t interested in him when he spoke—something unnecessary in dreams. All he had to do was get the job done, but with Morpheus' attitude, you could guess why that dream ended before anything could happen.
“Are you…jealous?” you asked.
“I am a king. I do not experience jealousy.” His head lifted ever so slightly.
“Historically, you do,” you said pointedly, trying to hide your smirk.
He hummed as if annoyed, but you knew better. You had stumped him.
“You are fortunate I hold you dear,” he said. “Not many can speak to me as such.”
You laughed breathily and stepped forward, grateful your answer pacified him.
You regarded him carefully. The smooth plains of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, his blue eyes. His lips. Your feelings for Morpheus were bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t ignore, and to think he possibly returned them? It nearly sent your head spinning.
“You know…I wouldn’t mind if you were a little jealous,” you said.
“And why is that?” He arched a brow, trying to remain composed.
“Because then it would mean you share my feelings,” you whispered. “It would mean I could kiss y—”
Lips were on yours—warm and powerful, a surge of pent-up passion. He’d waited far too long to taste you, to know the curves of your hips and the dip in your spine.
Your body melded into his as if he was the lock and you were the key. You opened him up to things he never thought he’d want to experience again. And you kept his secrets. You protected him. Made him feel safe. He was desperate to do the same for you.
You pulled away, but Morpheus followed, giving you quick kisses until you put a hand on his chest, laughing.
“Just…give me a second.” You inhaled. “One of us needs to breathe.”
The faintest pink graced his cheeks, and you grinned.
“I apologize. It slipped my mind,” Morpheus said.
You shook your head. “Don’t. Never apologize for doing that.”
You pecked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and lingered just beyond his lips.
“Guess I have someone else to dream about,” you whispered, each word brushing your lips against his.
He let out a low rumble. “There is no need to dream.”
His hands grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into him. You moaned when his sand whirled around you, knowing exactly where you were headed.
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Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline
If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.
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the-darklings · 2 years
Note
Matthew calling Wanderer "Lady Dream" killed me dead and the only thing that can resurrect me is a drabble of Dream himself saying it (please)
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pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader
wc: 1.2k+
warnings: jealous!Dream if you count that as a warning.
notes: got an idea that's too potent when I saw this, so LETS GO!!!
part one | series masterlist | ao3 |
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“I messed up.”
Dream Lord doesn’t pause in his measured stride at your edgy words, his flame-kissed coat trailing after him. The Dreaming castle is abuzz, accommodating additional visitors from different domains, and you can’t recall the last time everyone was this frazzled. Everyone has come together as a well-oiled machine would, but tension hangs thick in the air. No one is happy about the new visitors or their purpose for being at the Dreaming. Dream himself hasn’t had a free second since; indeed, neither have you.  
“I highly doubt it,” he replies.
“No, Dream. I did mess up.”
“You have wandered realms for millennia, Wanderer,” Dream reminds, slowing to peer at you over his shoulder. His features soften a touch from their near-permanent rigidity lately. His voice, too, eases into a husky, gentle drawl, “You are familiar with royalty and courtiers from countless kingdoms. A great number of them regard you highly. Your insight and advice in navigating this situation have been greatly appreciated.”
Your unease quells briefly, soothed by his sincere comments. It’s still too easy to be caught off guard by Dream’s attempts to be more open, more appreciative of those around him. 
“You’re welcome,” you say softly, forcing down a gulp. “It's hard enough to remember a dozen different customs not to insult the guests. But I wanted to bring this to your attention first. Personally. So you don’t hear it from someone else first or, worse, the narrative gets twisted.”
Dream Lord rotates your way fully, moving closer. You’ve paused in a gallery. A new addition to the castle with multiple tapestries stitched from thick, luxurious cloth that hang across previously barren walls. Each one depicts various panoramas from different domains across the cosmos. It’s been a small, self-indulgent project you’ve undertaken in between travels, but given your recent company, it has gone down better than expected. Everyone relishes their kingdoms being paid homage to in the land of dreams. 
“What happened?” Dream questions somberly. “Did someone hurt you? Threaten you?”
Your hands wring together at the seeping darkness in Dream’s voice, fingers knotting. You swallow under his steady, hard scrutiny. 
“No, nothing like that. Certainly not with Cori around. It’s just… Cluracan invited me for a walk in Fiddler’s Green and, well, you know how he is. A flirt and an outrageous one.” A forced chuckle escapes you. Dream doesn’t smile or laugh with you. Some emotion pulses through his regal features, tucked from sight in seconds. “He’s a bit odd for a fae, if I’m honest. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drunk this time. So we got talking, and he was rather charming. It took me too long to realise he was, you know, hitting on me.”
You clear your throat, dragging your stare from the walls back to the Dream Lord standing in front of you. Dream’s bearing is stony, tense, his gaze hooded and mouth flat. Those pale irises seem to glimmer in the dusky light of the setting sun. 
“Hitting on as in… courting,” you rush ahead, examining the strain in his jaw. “He asked if we were mates. And I think I’ve spent too much time around Hob because I figured he meant pals, you know? Friends. I forgot fae have a different definition of ‘mates’. So I immediately laughed and said: Well, of course, Dream and I are mates. We’ve been mates for centuries. So Cluracan got this intense look on his face—I mean, he gets under peoples’ skin even more than Cori—then actually bowed. And then, well…”
Dream seems to glide closer—close enough to touch, to breathe in, his words a cold caress, “Then what?”
You swallow. “Cluracan said: I must apologise, Lady Dream. I meant no insult with my offer. I now understand why Lord Morpheus refused my sister. I would appreciate it if you did not mention this to him. I would not wish to complicate this matter further.”
A shiver races down your spine when Dream’s arm slips lightly around you, settling on your lower back. “And then?”
His words are impossibly soft, but there’s something about the way shadows pool around Dream’s sloping, sharp features that set shivers skittering down your spine. His hand seems to burn through your coat. There’s something about the tension you discern in each digit, as if he’s holding himself back from dragging you nearer and pressing you to him. He’s done so in the past numerous times, tucking you from sight in the folds of his starlit coat. Quiet, peaceful, cold and hot like those raging stars you sometimes glimpse in his eyes. 
“Then he, uh, left.” You don’t dare to move, curious to see what Dream Lord will do next. “And tripped in a creek. Which is weird because I’m certain there’s never been a creek there to begin with. It’s like it appeared out of nowhere. But anyway, I just… I thought I’d better tell you personally because Cluracan seems set on calling me Lady Dream now, and I don’t want you to overhear and take offence to it.”
“Why would I take offence to such a thing?”
You blink at his unhurried, probing question. Dream’s thumb strokes gently downwards—it’s so light, the contact, a mere graze, but there’s such potent power imbued into it you’re as good as naked beneath it, sensing the gesture through clothes and down to your marrow. Your breath wobbles before steadying. “Well, the implication…”
“Implication.” A deep, considerate hum vibrates from Dream’s chest, followed by a weighty, “Does this implication bother you?”
Does it? You’ve never cared for labels. Dream, to you, is everything. Those who matter most are aware of that, so why would anyone and their opinions matter? But they do. Deep down, you’re well versed with power that comes merely from what names you can evoke—whose favour in this vast cosmos you hold. But deeper than that lays a simpler sentiment: if you are his, in soul and name, you cannot be anyone else’s. Until you declare you are taken, then you are open. The brimming, dark scowl and icy, caressing whispers from his lips are displays of discontentment but not at any misstep on your part. But, rather, at the thought of another holding you so close. Another leaning down to touch their lips against yours. At the idea that you would permit anyone else this intimacy.
But there’s a more reticent sentiment to be read in the ancient, weary lines of his unchanging face: if you wanted another, he would not interfere. He would not hinder your happiness if you moved on and found someone else. He would not hinder you even if he wanted to. 
You slant yourself closer. “No, I suppose it doesn’t bother me.”
As if you could ever want anyone else but him. Sullen, stubborn, flawed, but yours despite it. 
Old ghosts flee from his regard, the weight on his shoulders lightening—a tiniest of smiles curving one side of Dream’s mouth.
He slants closer, his breath fanning against your ear. “Good. Because the title rather suits you, Lady Dream.”
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an: Cluracan is a canon character that should appear pretty early on in S2 once Netflix stops being cowards. anyway, here's to hoping and hope you enjoyed : )
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eviesaurusrex · 1 year
Text
“ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.” | ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜꜱ
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Lord Morpheus x Deity!Reader (Goddess of Nature and Music)
summary: After being killed by Roderick Burgess during her attempts to free her husband, YN returns to Morpheus shortly after he himself reincarnated (kind of pt. 2 to »this one«)
word count: 5k oooops…?
warnings: mentions of death, mentions of the Afterlife, reincarnation, angst, but super fluff, like, seriously, this is a fluffy cloud of cotton candy, Death, Lucienne, Mervyn, and Matthew as trusty wing people
author’s note: This idea is presented to you by a comment written by @writing-fanics under my first ever Morpheus work: “we meet him again but when he’s reincarnated as Daniel Hall 👉👈 that’s my headcannon to make me happy after reading this the third time”. I could not not write this one out after I succeeded in breaking my own heart with the first fanfic for my baby 🥺 We imagine that Morpheus looks the same and has kept every memory after his reincarnation, but they have to be triggered, thank you, bye
Disclaimer: I have never read the comics (yet), and I’m still watching season one, so this is just my take on it. Please, don’t come for my head, would be much appreciated 👉🏻👈🏻 But I deliberately changed the happenings of episode 1 in order to let my baby have his vengeance. So, that’s on purpose!
;
“Okay, scenario time,” Matthew’s voice reverberated through the soothingly lit library in the Dreaming and called Lucienne and Mervyn to attention. The librarian peeked expectantly over her round glasses while Merv turned away from the stack of books to eye the flying raven cautiously. Recently, the bird had acted weirdly every time he had returned from the Waking World, and every time it had gotten more and more concerning. “What is it this time, Matthew? The beheaded ghost of Anne Boleyn?” Lucienne exchanged glances with the pumpkin head, suppressing a barely noticeable grin before cocking both eyebrows at the black bird.
Matthew groaned—he wished he hadn’t spoken a word about that incident—but flapped his wings to detangle the ends of his feathers. He still wasn’t used to those either. “Very funny,” he seethed and tickled a rumbling chuckle out of the pumpkin’s mouth. Sometimes he wished he would’ve landed in hell instead of the presence of these two buttheads who never faltered to tease him. “Anyway,” the raven continued with a warning glare out of his black eyes, “Back to my totally hypothetical scenario. Is rebirth a thing? I’m still new to this stuff. Hadn’t had the time to read through every book.” To be quite honest, Matthew hadn’t touched a single book in here, not even those which Lucienne had put on a stack on one of the tables, just for him. He hadn’t been a big reader back in his days; he should be damned if he would start with it now.
Lost in his thoughts, Matthew didn’t realize the awful silence settling over the duo in front of him. Confused, he looked from one to the other. “What have I said or done now?!” Lucienne was the first to speak up. “Why are you asking, Matthew?” Her voice was laced with earnestness, and the raven stepped from one talon to the other. “No reason?” He didn’t sound convincing, even he heard that. “Matthew,” the librarian spoke in one of her warning tones, and the bird knew he couldn’t joke around anymore. “Fine! There is this teeny-tiny portrait Morpheus is carrying around with him. Like, all the damn time. And over which he is so protective, I wasn’t allowed to take a look or even ask him who that is. But…” Again, he stepped from one toe to the other before jumping from the stack of books he had landed on. “But?” Now even Mervyn urged him with the same unnerving tone Lucienne owned. “But a few weeks ago, he forgot to put it back in his pocket, and it lay open on one of the steps. So, yeah, I took a glance. Don’t give me that look, you two would have done the same!” Lucienne stood from her chair and moved closer to him. “Stop weaseling around the point, Matthew!”
The librarian knew whose features were depicted in the locket the lord carried around ever since Lucienne had handed it over to him. The thought alone of Lord Morpheus’ still lingering pain—even though he couldn’t put it to the proper memories connected to this feeling—made her heart ache as well—especially because she had known her as closely as one could know the former Queen of the Dreaming. They had considered each other dear friends, sharing the same passion for the written word and wisdom.
“Good lord, let me take a breather! Why are you so eager all of a sudden? Sheesh.” Her patience with this creature was almost depleted, and she would have loved to just shake a bit of sense into him. Instead, the librarian was content with using threatening words. “If you are not willing to tell me right in this instance what this nonsense is about, I will shake some sense into your feathery body!” Matthew stared up at her and took a small step back, putting some distance between them, but maneuvered him closer to Mervyn, who definitely wouldn’t help him if Lucienne decided to strangle the life out of him. “Okay, Okay! I’m sure I saw her wandering around in the Waking World! Happy?”
The bomb blew up and silence once more settled over the library. Lucienne continued to stare down at the raven, face unmoving and lacking any expression, while Mervyn plopped down onto one of the chairs standing next to the long wooden table. Matthew glanced from one to the other. “Why? Who is she? Someone important? Like his queen?” A chuckle escaped him at the thought of Morpheus being married and having a loving wife somewhere hidden in this palace. But at the sight of hurt and grief on the pumpkin’s face, even the cheeky raven grew quiet.
“She was his queen, yes,” Mervyn mumbled, leaning back in the chair. “She is his queen,” Lucienne corrected him, not having accepted the cruel fate her friend had endured. Merv sighed long and deep. “Her name was YN, and she was the only being he had ever wanted.” Matthew perked up. “YN as in YN, the Goddess of Nature and Music and all that?” Both nodded simultaneously. “She was killed by the same man who had captured our lord. And you are sure you saw her? Not some mortal only resembling her?” The raven nodded without a second thought after digesting the new information and the even more depressing backstory of his boss. “I’m pretty sure. She looked… lost. And I’m sure she saw me. Not only the raven but me.” And that had unsettled him so much that he had fled every time she had found him again. Yet, Matthew always returned to keep an eye on her, unable to stay away from her because somewhere deep down, he knew she was somehow different.
Lucienne exchanged glances with Mervyn. “Is it possible then?” The pumpkin head asked the librarian without hesitation, and she nodded equally as fast. “Reincarnation? Yes. Resurrection? Possibly? Death is the expert on the latter.”
And as if she had only waited for the perfect moment, Death of the Endless appeared in the middle of the library, displeasure evident on her face.
“Who of you found it screamingly funny to mingle with a soul?”
Now it was Matthew and Mervyn who exchanged glances before turning their eyes to Lucienne. “Seems likely possible,” the raven announced before the trio moved to look to the Endless, still waiting for an answer, arms crossed in front of her chest.
;
“Why the sudden need to visit the Waking World?” Morpheus’ soft voice asked Death, an edge of curiosity to it nonetheless, blue eyes resting on the passing people who didn’t heed the Endless’ existence nor presence entirely. His sister hummed shortly, but no word left her mouth—for now. Minutes passed by just like humans passed by. They stood on this spot on the street silently, right opposite a flourishing park, facing the lush green grass, the flower bushes, the high, looming, almost ancient trees.
“Death,” he warned lowly, not feeling pleased by this game she seemed to play with him. Impatience spread in his body, letting him experience the usual unresting feeling crushing into his muscles and bones, urging him to do anything. He had learned to despise this feeling. “The locket you carry.” Her sudden turn to face him surprised even him, and a black brow arched over his eye. “What about it?” He felt rather protective over the little piece Lucienne had handed him over, and he remembered the memory rising at the gesture vividly. The agony connected to it was something he had never experienced before. But instead of fading over time, it had manifested as a brick in his soul and heart; unwavering and unstoppable as soon as it once had taken hold of him.
Death observed him closely, witnessing the change in his eyes and the emotions dancing over his face. She was sure the memories were somewhere buried in his soul, and they only had to trigger them. It surprised her he didn’t unlock any of them at the first sight of her face after Lucienne had given him the small portrait right after he was reincarnated.
“You do know who she is, do you, brother?” Morpheus furrowed his forehead in concentration, trying to understand the meaning behind this—but a conclusion was nowhere to be seen. Death seemingly caught up to his train of thought because she slowly pointed in the direction of the blooming park opposite of them without letting him out of her sight. “I hope this will answer everything,” she mumbled, watching Morpheus as he slowly turned his head to watch the greenery and people passing. It was nothing out of the ordinary to see.
Not until she stepped out of the shadow of a willow tree into the beaming sunlight.
She strolled through the grass seemingly without a care in the world, face held upwards in the direction of the warming sun, eyes closed. He somehow knew that they were of an ever-changing color, always capturing him, even after eons of being his companion as soon as he had stepped into a room she had occupied, following him with an expression he only could describe as never-ending and undying love.
Morpheus could feel how his heart ached bitterly and agonizingly at the sight of her.
He watched her fingertips dance over flowers in full bloom, tickling an even brighter color out of their petals which stretched desperately in the direction of her life-gifting touch, craving her attention, constantly repositioning to her, as if she was the compass they had searched for decades without success. As if she was the sun to the sunflower in them. But not only the flowers reacted to her; even the grass seemed more green and lush in its color.
Morpheus wasn’t able to take his eyes off her—neither physically nor mentally. Not with the deeply felt emotions crashing against the high walls around his mind like a strong and wild tide, resembling her being. She might look like the damsel in distress, but all of a sudden, the Lord of Dreams knew with shocking clarity that she was anything but the damsel in desperate need of an assisting hand. And not just that.
He knew her.
A change within him followed this realization.
He felt the moment in which every single memory returned to his soul unscathed. Morpheus could flick through them like the pages of a book, and every picture was as clear as the sky of the Waking World above his head. He could remember their wedding vividly—remembered her smile as radiant as the stars above them while they promised to protect, cherish, and love one another.
Forever.
Whatever might lay ahead of them on their path through the centuries and eons.
Both brows softly rose over the pair of eyes, always lacking something in their depths which they held once without any doubt. The spark was there again, though—Death could see it clearly, could even feel it. The stars inside the blue seas attempted to return, but the hesitation of the Endless still too powerful to let them have their way.
Morpheus watched the woman, the goddess, his wife, with growing desperation from afar, feeling agitated. His only desire was to cross the street, to put the humans in his line of sight and Death behind him, wanted to pull her into his arms after he had stopped right in front of her. He wanted to see her face, to hear her voice, to feel her soft touch which had always reminded him of water gliding over stone, of a breeze caressing through the tall-growing grass and wheat in the Dreaming, of raindrops stealing daringly kisses and touches of petals and leaves.
He wanted everything from her she once had given him without so much as a fleeting thought.
Unbeknownst to himself, the King of the Dreaming and Lord of Dreams had taken a step closer to his very own dream, not paying any attention to his sister in his back or the raven that had landed on a branch next to the goddess. His black eye observed his boss looking dumbfounded over at the woman who resembled the most beautiful blooming flower ever seen by mortals and otherworldly beings.
And though she was above the Waking World, once a ruler of the Dreaming itself, she slowly sank down in front of a little girl, a tender expression settling on her face. The girl held a dying flower in her open palms; the stem snapped off the remaining plant and looked equally as crushed as the petals. Matthew smiled—as good as possible as a bird—at the picture of her softly raising her hand and returning the flower to its once beautiful existence, making the girl giggle and smile widely. YN smiled back—Morpheus felt as if his heart missed several beats at once—before resting a finger against her lips, and the girl nodded in understanding before rushing over to her mother, showing her newest possession proudly.
She raised back to her feet, and without a glance over her shoulder, she spoke up. “You can come out, raven, whose name I still do not know.” Matthew felt exposed but followed her words and landed softly on her shoulder. “Goddess,” he mumbled, and YN chuckled gently. “Ah, I see. And there I was, wondering why you did not leave just yet. Someone told you, I suppose?” He was able to take a glimpse of her eyes, and the raven would have to lie if he told the world they weren’t as mesmerizing as Lucienne had described them to him. Nodding, the raven made himself a bit more comfortable on her shoulder—if he had to choose, he would take her shoulder over his boss’s every time. He hoped no one would ever find out about that. A heavy sigh left her parted lips. “Then you surely must know that I am of no use anymore.”
Ever since she had awoken in the Waking World, YN had tried to find a way back into the Dreaming, back home. Before her—obviously not definitively—death, she had had the powers to come and go as she had pleased, but now, all there was left was silence and coldness. She couldn’t even feel the Dreaming anymore, which only let appear one conclusion in the front of her mind, and she didn’t dare to think about it further. In the first hours and days of her awakening, she had cried enough tears to form an entirely new river—unpurposely, of course.
Matthew cocked his head and tried to stare into her eyes. “No use?! What are you talking about? I call bullshit.” YN now herself cocked her head, mirroring the raven on her shoulder what he didn’t like, but was humored nonetheless. “So, you are a funny one. That did not happen in a very long time. Usually, ravens tend to be so earnest.” The raven had to chuckle at that. “I’m unique. But stop honey-ing me, missy! Care to enlighten me why you think you are useless?”
Now, every lightness was gone from her face, eyes, and body language. He could feel her muscles tense under his talons. “I cannot return. I cannot return to the Dreaming, not even after offering my powers. I cannot feel it.” I cannot feel my home, she thought to herself before continuing. “And if I cannot feel the Dreaming, the only possible reason is…” YN couldn’t speak it out loud but had to, so she took a breath. “The only reason is that he is dead. And without him, I cannot return home.” I do not wish to return home. Because what was a never-ending existence without the one she loved more than every flower, leaf, and music tune?
Matthew raised his head slowly, looking from the profile of her breathtakingly face over to his boss, still standing there like a damn tree growing roots. He saw how Death softly nudged him in their direction, and if he had a saying in this, he would’ve shoved him like there would be no tomorrow. Instead, he himself gently nudged her jaw to make YN turn her head. “But what if he is still here?” Matthew asked at the exact moment her eyes had found the man of her dreams.
And suddenly, everything stopped. There was no movement, no breathing life, no growing life. Only stasis. Except for them. In a very long time, YN hadn’t felt this much alive, not even in the wake of her awakening a handful of months back.
Morpheus could see the movement of her lips, letting no sound escape them—the sight of it brought him back to the memory of her last breath he had been damned to only observe instead of trying to save her. But other than a century before, she didn’t lose the spark of life in her eyes, didn’t go limp, didn’t show any signs of injuries or blood consuming the fabric of her clothes before it dripped onto the grass beneath her feet.
No, she was the epitome of life, and her light fueled him with something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: Hope. Happiness. Love. And he should be damned if he didn’t get to her only because he feared that this was his very own nightmare which he had conjured himself to torture his already tortured soul. He couldn’t lose her a second time. He wouldn’t lose her a second time.
With slow steps, even though he ached to stride over to her as fast as possible, he put the grey world behind him and stepped into the green paradise he yearned to have back in his life, in the Dreaming. His realm wasn’t itself, not without its queen. The soothing calm wrapped itself around him and his mind, caressing him softly with every step he took. It resembled her touch, but he knew that her skin against his was something even more glorious and ethereal. Something divine beyond comprehension.
None of them broke the contact of their gazes; they revolved around one another like planets in the grand universe, interdependent, as if one was the source of gravity of the other. Morpheus wasn’t sure if he should reach for her, if he should let his fingertips glide up her bare arm. But she took the burden of said decision upon herself as YN reached out for him, desperation and fear written all over her beautiful face, crystal tears burning in her eyes which just changed their color from the light blue of a summer sky to the evergreen of a dark forest. He felt as if his heart stopped beating entirely the moment the tips of her fingers were able to reach the back of his hand.
Both sucked a deep breath into their lungs, and while YN’s lips softly parted in utter surprise, Morpheus’ steps faltered. Inches still separated the couple, but he slowly turned his hand under her fingertips, moving it to let his palm face upwards, to feel her touch there because he suddenly remembered particular scenes throughout their existence. He was faced with the feeling of tender touches and the feeling of home; her fingertips following and drawing the lines on his palm, always while they lay together in their shared bed during the early morning hours, before she would press a feathery kiss to it and laid his hand atop her cheek to close her eyes for only a few more minutes. He felt the adoration swirling through him, knew that he had craved those moments every morning—even after centuries, after eons of their loving routine.
And even now, after everything that had happened to both of them, Morpheus felt his heart jumping in his chest as YN let her fingers glide over the upwards-facing palm. He watched her as closely as she watched him, her touch moving over the tender skin of his wrist before they lost contact again due to the fabric parting her touches from him. The woman in front of him took a last step in the same heartbeat as he took his last step toward her, not holding back anymore.
His hands cupped her neck lovingly, his long, elegant fingers reaching to the back of her head, his thumbs tenderly brushing over the line of her jaw. In the same instance, YN had buried the fingers of her left hand into the fabric of his black coat while her right hand cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb caressing the skin above his cheekbone. Their gazes were still connected, diving into the deep seas, yearning for every emotion swimming in those dark pools.
“Morpheus.”
Her unbelieving whisper of his name—as if it was a prayer—was his downfall. Without wasting another second, another breath, another heartbeat, the Lord of Dreams bent his head and eyes closed at the mere anticipation before their lips collided in softness and loving movements. The desperation and urgency needed to wait for a different moment in the confinements of their private rooms in the Dreaming. Their passion had never been secondary, they had always heavily indulged in it, even if the timing was anything except perfect, but now, neither of them could think about something more important as the realization that this wasn’t another dream—or nightmare—that this was reality instead.
The reassurance of this fact in the form of tender kisses they shared without stopping to take a deep breath was more than enough. But even they had to part at some point—foreheads softly pressed against one another, fingers tangled in silky strands, chests fitting perfectly together, eyes still closed, savoring this existence-altering moment.
“I thought…—” YN’s voice was quiet, breathless, filled with fear and agony. She didn’t need to complete the sentence because he figured what she was trying to say. So all he did first was move his head to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I am here,” he whispered against her skin, feeling her body relax under his hands. He would never leave her again or let her leave, even if he had to fight every single creature the world had to offer. “I… I am…” YN’s mumbling almost got lost between the shake of her voice and Morpheus wrapped his arms around her, pressed a hand to the small of her back while the other buried itself in her long curls, pulling her closer to his chest, enveloping his wife in the most protective hug. “Do not apologize. There is nothing to apologize for, love. I am just glad I have gotten you back, gotten another chance to spend eternity with you. I am beyond grateful to finally have you in my arms again where you belong, my dream.” His whispering was as tender as the leaves around them, and YN felt her heart flutter like an excited bird shortly before it rose into the sky at the sound of the endearment reserved explicitly for her.
YN let her eyes fall shut, savoring the long-missed and lost feeling of his incredibly soft lips, remembering the Afterlife filled with the same sensation but different all at once. It had been insipid; a weak, dull equivalent to his counterpart in reality, and she had missed him there even more fiercely as if it would have been the case if the Afterlife hadn’t been so cruel to her soul.
Her fingers tenderly caressed through his night black strands, hearing and feeling him sigh in utter contentment. “Morpheus,” she whispered his name again, this time with her lips almost at his—already touching them with every syllable of his name. “I told you I would find you.” The corner of her mouth slowly raised at his deep but quiet chuckle, feeling his arm wrapping tighter around her, pulling her even closer to him, if that was even possible. Their eyes met again after a short but equally as lovingly, and heartwarming kiss as the ones before, and the Lord of Dreams pushed a curl behind her ear, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. YN looked up to him almost pleadingly, even though they both knew that Morpheus could never refuse anything his wife asked of him.
“Bring me home.”
;
Morpheus had his eyes closed, breathing slowly, while every sensation was heightened, beginning with the familiar heavy feeling of her head lying on his shoulder and ending with the tickling touch of YN’s fingertips following slowly and reverently the lines in his right palm. They lay like this since they returned to the Dreaming, immediately strolling through the palace and into their rooms, ignoring everyone around them, only having eyes and a place in their minds for each other.
They had to wait if they wanted to see their queen again. It was his turn now.
“What happened?”
Her voice was as soft as it usually was but held an edge of curiosity and resentment. Her fingers didn’t stop even as YN turned her head to look up into his face, and the man opened his eyes to watch her, though he felt the memory rising behind his eyes and in the front of his mind, unable to unsee it. And she had a right to know.
His hand, which had rested on her bare shoulder where he had caressed her skin with tender strokes, moved up to her head and started to brush through her hair. It had always soothed him and his mind, and he felt relief flowing through him at the realization that it was still the case. “It took a century before I was able to escape, but… I could not leave without seeking vengeance for what he did. Not to me, but you.” YN was quiet, but her eyes told him she listened intently to his every word. So he continued. “My ruby brought him immortality for the time in his possession, and it was the first thing I took back from him. I watched him starting to wither in his sleep, knowing that his dream had changed with the sensation of something happening to him. I waited until he awoke, waited until he realized it was my doing, and watched with satisfaction the moment he realized his end was coming. I promised him eternal torture and started with it myself.”
Morpheus knew that he had been cruel to this human, but he also knew that he wasn’t as cruel as he should’ve been.
YN stopped caressing his palm, and the Endless watched her face, not moving his gaze, not even as he felt her hand move upwards to cup his jawline. He slowly let his eyes fall shut only at the feeling of her thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek, leaning his face into the touch he had longed for over a century. “I really thought I could save you, my love,” she whispered and leaned her forehead against the other side of his face, nuzzling her nose against the skin of his neck. Morpheus pressed a loving kiss to her hairline. “I know, my dream.” He fell silent for a moment before speaking up again—pain audible in his voice. “Do not dare and try it again. Will you promise me that? I cannot watch you die right in front of me again. I would not survive it.”
His queen softly pushed herself up with a hand resting on his chest, right above his strong beating heart. Her eyes—morphing from an emerald green to the shades of the morning sky after the night retreated—watched him with the softest expression while she nodded, barely visible. “Will you promise me not to find yourself in situations and positions which require my unintentional sacrifice again?” A smile started to tuck at the corner of his lips, and YN gently chuckled at the sight of it. “I will promise you that, my Queen,” Morpheus smiled nonetheless up at her, covering the hand still resting over his heart with his own.
He looked down at the missing feeling of something pressing against his palm. YN seemed to notice his changing expression and looked at her bare ring finger as well. “I woke up without it,” she whispered, sadness etched into her tone at the memory of the missing ring her husband had given her. It had been the most beautiful ring ever made, decorated with two beautiful gemstones—a dark blue sapphire, reminding her of his eyes, and the other the darkest emerald ever seen because it had been the color of her eyes at their first encounter. YN didn’t know where it vanished.
He got a hold of her bare hand and pressed her fingertips onto his lips to pepper gentle kisses on them. “I will make you a new one,” he vowed with the soft tone reserved entirely for her ears.
But he didn’t need to because only a moment after the words had left his mouth, a knock interrupted their peace and tranquillity. YN was quick on her feet and crossed the grand room to open the door, facing a wide-eyed Lucienne. “My Queen,” she bowed her head, but both women searched for their hands, and YN gently squeezed her friend’s fingers. “Lucienne,” she smiled, and the librarian couldn’t contain her smile as well. “I apologize for the intrusion, but Death found something I suspect you missed.” And with that, she opened her other hand in which laid, atop a velvet piece of fabric, her missing ring. “Where…?” Her friend only shrugged gently. “She didn’t tell us.” Nodding, YN took the ring and pressed it against her chest. “Thank you, Lucienne.” Her voice was laced with joy and longing, and the librarian bowed again. “I will leave you, but don’t hesitate to visit the library. The books miss you dearly.” With that, Lucienne turned and left, and the woman closed the door again and walked back to the bed with Morpheus still atop the covers.
She opened her hand after settling back on the mattress next to him, letting him see the ring resting on her palm, and the Lord of Dreams smiled down at it. He took the delicate jewelry between his fingers and slowly pushed it back into its place, back home on her finger, so everyone could see to whom she belonged—though nobody in the Dreaming needed a reminder of that.
“Welcome home,” Morpheus mumbled, lips against lips, and enveloped his wife once again in his loving embrace to hold her as close as possible, not thinking about letting her leave his arms anytime soon.
;
Okay, so, I hate the end, but I’m really bad at writing endings naturally, so we have to deal with this one. Hope y’all enjoyed it tho :3 As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3
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arcade-writing · 2 years
Text
SWEET AS HONEY
NSFW 🍋
Pairing: Morpheus (dream) x AFAB! Reader
Warning: aphrodisiac used - both parties consenting, flood play, outdoor sex but in a private area, oral, face sitting, blow jobs, desperate sex, nipple play, overstimulation, established relationship, AFAB but gender not stated, french kissing, cum play, Cream pie, aftercare, porn with fluff, minor smelling kink from dream, implied both of you are switches, slight praise kink, LOTS of dirty talk
Absolutely obsessed with sandman at the moment. Morpheus owns my heart. My pathetic soggy meow meow. Been enjoying reading the fics on Tumblr and A03 and decided to give my hand at writing some smut for him!
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"My lord, I am requesting your company in the gardens, it's been awhile since we've been able to enjoy a nice stroll."
Dream looked down at you from his throne. Tilting his head as he rested it in his palm. "Oh? And when are you expecting my company?"
"In 2 hours, I am assuming you're accepting my request."
"Always, it would be my pleasure."
You smiled. Turning on your heel as you marched out of throne room. Going straight to the kitchen to prepare some meals for the two of you, whilst dreams don't need to eat you weren't always a being of the dream realm. Once a human just like any other until you crossed paths with Morpheus. Gifted the abilities to walk through both realms as a guide to dreamers when he is away to important matters.
So whilst eating was not necessary, it gave you comfort. It was familiar.
But what was new was the small jar of honey by your hand. A gift. You gossiped with Desire whenever you could, they loved knowing every detail of your embarassing life. Listening to your worries and lack of confidence concerning their brother despite the two of you being together. And so, they gifted a jar of sweet aphrodisiac. A gentle one. One to give you a boost and spark your confidence. Strong enough to even effect an endless like themselves.
You needed to ask Dream before you opened it. You intended it to be for the both of you. And so you hurried along, getting your date ready.
You changed into something light, the sun beaming down on the realm was warm. The breeze cool. Perfect weather as always. You brushed out the blanket on the lush green field, admiring the fountain not too far away. A cobble path leading towards it and outwards, covered in moss and vines. The sound of the rushing water eased you nodded to yourself. Trying to calm down your racing heart.
You jogged back to the back of the castle, instantly colliding with the chest of the very man you were looking for. Looking up to see Dream offering you a smile. Small and warmer than the sun.
"Lead the way." Was all he said, linking his arms with yours.
You two took your time. It was peaceful back here. No one ever came out here unless it was for maintenance. It was the perfect place to be undisturbed.
"I have a gift for you but I want to know if you'll accept it." Your eyes flickered towards him. Your palms growing sweaty as you brows knitted. Worried he wouldn't approve.
"It's from Desire, up their mischief I assume."
He kept his eyes trained ahead. You just caught the small tug on the corner of his lips. Trying not to show his distain for his sibling. But he knew your relationship with them was friendly, Desire was kind in their way when they wanted to be. Even if there's always a catch.
Your eyes widened. A flash of surprise hitting you before you shook your head. "Of course you know." Looking up at him once more to watch his expression. "I was curious to try it but I need your permission, My lord."
"It is granted, i trust you."
Those words made your heart grow fuzzy. Trust from a being such as Morpheus was not easily gained. Often times it was given reluctantly. But you knew him, he was being honest. He truely trusted you and that was all you needed.
Once you two arrived at the picnic, you were first to move. Taking off your shoes and he did the same. Not wanting to track mud on the blanket. Sitting down and patted the spot beside. He followed you and sat down, elbows leaning on his propped up knees. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. His eyes snapped to your direction, a smile tugging ever so slightly on his lips.
"What amuses you?"
"Just you, my Lord."
You grinned. Eyes trailing down to his lips. So pouty. So soft. No Matter how many times you've kissed you still couldn't stop imagining how they would feel. Wanting it imprinted on your memory until you couldn't think of anything else.
"We are alone, starlight, I wish to hear my name from your lips."
"Would you like some tea, Morpheus?" Straying from your thoughts as you tried to not focus on the heat rising up your neck.
He nodded. Finding words not necessary as he helped you take out the tea set you put in the basket. Carefully pouring out the misty tea from the flask as you grabbed the jar of honey. Looking at him, waiting for him to say anything. Wanting to give him another chance to consider his decision but he just took it from your hands. Stirring a glob of honey in each of your cups.
You pulled out the box of chocolates you made the night before then strawberries.
"How fitting, starlight." He mused, grabbing the heart shaped fruit. It was a vibrant red, plump too. Perfect. Watching as you pulled out more fruit, blueberry and cherries. You made sure they were seedless.
Happily stretching out your legs as you got comfortable. Leaning on your elbows as you took a cherry from its container. Biting down with a soft groan. Dream mirrored your position and plucked the cherry from your fingers. His tongue poking where you bit before he ate the rest.
Your cheeks flushed as you watched him smile once more. "Very sweet." He sucked the juices off his thumb, not daring to break eye contact.
Finding your mouth parting, wishing to say something but unable to find the words. You took your cup of tea, taking a long sip avoiding his intense gaze. He chuckled as he used two fingers to push down your drink.
"Slow down, take it in small portions or you'll be too overwhelmed."
You nodded. Feeling a fuzz run through your veins. Trying to calm yourself as you took a chocolate. Shaped as a ball with a cream filling. Shyly pushing it to his lips, which parted eagerly to try what you made. His tongue poking the tip of your finger. That fuzz spiked into a shock of electricity. Already feeling it's effects creep through your system.
He took a small gulp of his own drink trying to even out your situation. A warm flush spread from his throat down to his stomach. His muscles beginning to relax as the heat caressed him.
You grabbed another chocolate, he did the same. Copying you like an inexperienced actor. This ordeal unfamiliar to him as he's never had to eat before, not like you. But he felt a small twinge of magic flow back into him everytime. After all, he made the trees bloom in your little garden, the kitchen you found yourself in made by him. His efforts to make you feel more at home.
Whilst he went to eating it whole, letting it melt on his tongue as he watched you. You took a small bite out of it, lapping up the white moose filling. Eyes looking up at him to watch his expression twitch. You felt pride swell knowing you were effecting him.
Dream took another gulp of his tea but this time a bigger one. His eyes darkening, trained on your every movement as you plucked more food into your mouth. His brows scrunching, holding back a noise as he pressed his stomach to the blanket. The slight friction felt like lightening.
You noticed. Looking down at the small tent, licking your lips. Of course he saw. He hasn't stopped staring at you since this picnic started.
"Hungry, my love?"
"Starved." You croaked out. Crawling towards him, careful not to knock anything over, your hands shakily reaching for his chest as you pushed him onto his back. Dream let you do as you please, enjoying the way you trembled. Your eyes frantic to soak in the sight of him.
Your body sunk lower, finding your place between his legs. Raking your nails over the fabric making his breath hitch. His muscles flexed under your touch as you began to unbutton his trousers. Tugging them down to his knees along with his underwear. Your hand dragging up his thigh to his toned stomach, lifting his shirt in the process. Each touch felt like fire on his skin, his breathing becoming more heavy. His fingers digging into the blanket as he tried to stay still. Trying to keep up his front of control.
He was dream of the endless. The nightmare king. The ruler of this realm and your king. The personification of the dreaming.
He was-
He was putty in your hands.
You slowly pumped his aching cock, relishing in the way it hardened in your grasp. Running your thumb over the vein that run along the underside. Your mind was becoming foggy with every twitch. Your own arousal becoming more apparent to you.
Suddenly, an idea struck your mind. Morpheus knew that look all too well. Biting back his groans as he tugged on your arm, wanting your focus back on him.
"What is that mind of yours conjuring?"
"Desire did tell me there were multiple ways to take this, I wanted to see what would be more effective." You chewed on your lower lip, still thinking of your next move. Trying to not get giddy with excitement knowing you were leaving him so desperate.
Dream had enough paitence to wait thousand's of centuries just to see the solar shower that happened across his families realms. But yet, here he was straining his body to not chase his own pleasure. His lips pulled into a small snarl as he wanted nothing more than you to move your hand.
"And how do you plan to do that, starlight?"
You grabbed the spoon with your free hand, your other than squeezing the base of his cock. He let out a shaky gasp as he jerked his hips up. Humming as you tasted the honey, it was sweeter than you expected. Sharp on your tongue as you kept it on your tongue.
Moving back between his legs and laid on your stomach. Holding his hips as your mouth swallowed around the tip of his cock. The honey dripping down as you sucked, coating his sex completely. His sensitivity going from 5 to 100. Choking out a cry as he throw his head back. Thrusting up into your mouth as you greedily took in as much as you could. Using one of your hands to squeeze and twist the base.
You sucked on the head. Swirling your tongue over the slit making him groan. His fingers ripping at the blanket, your hand kept jerking as you could see he was getting closer.
"You can take all of it, I know you can my love, Take it." It was not a command but a plea. His gorgeous eyes shimmering with tears. Just needing that push to the edge.
And who were you to deny your king?
You removed your hand making him curse under his breath. Forcing his hips to stay down with both hands as you slowly bobbed your head. Taking more inches each time as you loosened your jaw. Feeling him slide into your throat as you adjusted your head, pulling his cock more towards you.
The warmth of your mouth surrounded him. Feeling your tongue drag as you moved your head once more. Up and down. Taking everything right down to the base. He choked on his breath. Feeling himself tip. Throwing his head back as he thrusted harshly into your mouth, cum squirting in thick ropes.
You came off with a wet pop. Panting as your nails dug into his hips. The arousal between your legs was pooling. Dream watched you closely as you crawled up. Sitting between his legs as you rolled out your tongue. Showing off the mixture of spit, honey and his cum. It was filthy. You felt it but seeing his eyes widen only made you shiver. His large hands grabbing at your body as he yanked you towards him.
His lips crashing against yours. His tongue prying through your parted lips. Groaning as your tongues glided against each other. Able to taste himself fully. It was bitter yet intoxicatingly sweet from the honey. You could feel his hand on your neck, squeezing as he tried to pull you closer. You pawed at his chest and shoulder. Pressing your body against him as much as you could. But it wasn't enough.
His fingers making you squirm as they grabbed at your shirt. Only leaning back to remove, throwing it to who knows where. Your clothed heat flush against his cock. Both of you letting out a groan. You let out a squealed laugh as he started kicking off his pants. Reaching back to help him. Why he always insisted on wearing such tight clothing you'll never understand.
You let out a gasp as your back hit the blanket. He tugged down your pants, throwing them to the pile of your scattered clothes. Only leaving with your underwear.
Completely weak beneath him. Trapped under his form as he took in the sight of you. Rubbing your thighs together as you sought out your own pleasure. You needed him. Needing to hear more of his noises. To feel his hands on you. To be inside you.
All you could do was whine. "Touch me"
"I'll do more than that, starlight, I'll kiss every inch of your body as you squirm underneath me."
And true to his word, He held your waist. Caressing your sides as his head dunked down. Kissing along your jaw as he spoke. You rolled your hips up, trying to seek out his body but it was futile. Gasping as his knee pressed against your sex.
"I'll caress and mark your body, you are mine, I will make sure every being understands that." He kissed you down to your chest, sucking on the skin just above it.
His fingers swiped at the honey, taking as much as he could. Spreading it to both hands as he kept kissing your collar bones. Smearing the sticky treat across your chest as he fondled the flesh. Rolling your nipples between two fingers. Pinching them as the honey coated them.
You let out a loud moan, your sensitivity flying. It felt so warm. Like electricity was sparking on your nerves. Mewling as he tugged them. His usual stoic expression morphed into a smirk. Completely smug.
"Taste you until you're trembling and gasping-"
He grabbed as your side, kissing down to your nipple before taking it in his mouth. You couldn't help but grind against his knee. Growing more desperate as the aphrodisiac flooded your system. Already feeling it's sparks from the tea and now feeling it ten fold.
His other hand moved from your other nipple and now Infront of your parted lips. Honey coated them still as you took it in your mouth. Humming as your swirled your tongue around his digits. Your eyes trailing down to see his cock still hard. Straining against him. The head was blushing a dark red as pre cum spilled.
Releasing your nipple he continued his descent down your body. His fingers leaving your mouth with a string of salvia connecting to to them.
"Stealing every chance of breath as I devour you." He moved his body to lay down. His nose nudging your clit. Taking in a deep inhale, smelling your arousal. You wanted to force Your legs shut, embarrassed but he kept them open with his shoulders.
A scream was ripped from you as he tore off the only piece of cloth you had left. Leaving it tattered on the ground as he grabbed your legs. His back slamming down on the grass whilst you sat on his chest. You clutched at the ground trying to stabilize yourself after the sudden movement. Shaking as he just let out a deep chuckle.
Gliding his hands up your thighs as he tugged them forward. You hovered over him, thinking you were crushing him but he guided you over his face. You clenched air as you grabbed his head. "Morpheus...."
"Are you not my lover? Do you not deserve your very own throne? Sit on my face, my love, let me please you."
With that you let yourself lower. Clenching his head between your thighs as he licked a long strip up your folds.
"I could feel how wet you were but now I'm tasting you? You're more addicting than any aphrodisiac."
His words were going straight down to your core. His tongue lapping up what he could. Groaning as he tried to bury his face deeper.
"You've done this to me before-"
"And everytime I can't get enough." He breathed out. Pulling your hips down, putting more of your weight on him. Whining as his noses pressed against your sensative bud.
His tongue squirming between your folds, starting to tongue fuck. You squirmed at the sensation, moving your hips to chase your pleasure. Anything he tried to say was muffled. The vibrations sending you reeling as you moaned.
You let out a cry as he tried to shove your sex even closer. His senses were entirely filled with you. But he insisted. Wanting more. Needing more. Drunk on your taste.
"Morpheus - please -"
Your hands weaved through his block locks. Tugging them rightly in shaky fists. He groaned as he finally moved his head. Sucking on your clit, gently rolling it between his teeth before he lapped it up. Your body heaved as it struck you. Feeling your release get closer and closer.
His eyes locked with yours. Knowing you were hanging on the edge. Parting from your throbbing sex for only a second. "Come for me."
It hit you like a storm. Crying out as your body flinched from how hard you came. But Morpheus didn't stop. Humming as he lapped up your juices. You tugged at his hair again trying to squirm away from his vicious mouth. Greedily taking every last drop from you.
"Too much-!"
Yet it felt so good. Your back arching as you melwed. Rolling your hips to get more but everytime you did it made you tremble. The pleasure becoming unbearable. You sobbed as he licked your clit.
"Morpheus-!" You screamed as a second orgasm crashed against you. Gasping for air as tears ran down your face.
He finally pried himself off you. His eyes were fixed on you. Hazy. Eyelids fluttering as he panted. You crawled back, sitting on his stomach as his hands caressed moved from your hips now to your back. Caressing your spine. Hugging you close to him. Smiling to himself as you shook in his arms. Feeling every twitch in your legs.
"You are cruel...." You whined. Hiding your face in his chest. He could feel your smile as you kissed his pale skin.
"That was mercy, my love, if you allowed it I would spend the rest of entirety with your thighs around my head."
You moaned at his words but as tempting as it was you needed to feel him. Unable to cool the fire souring through your body. As soon as your high ended you were coiled tight in need. Your desire only growing stronger as you grinded back on his sex. Sitting up as you positioned yourself over his thighs.
"I need...I need you to-"
You couldn't wait anymore. The fire consumed you. Clawing at your insides as all of it screamed for him. Morpheus sat up, leaning on his elbows. Only lifting one hand to cup your face. Making you look at him as you shuddered.
"Take what you need, I am your servant, use me."
You gripped his cock, your thumb pressing down on the slit as you guided him towards you. Groaning when he brushed against your aching bud. Unable to stop yourself as you rolled your hips, bouncing up and down as you kept him flush to your sex. The veins running up his dick rubbing against you deliciously.
Squeezing the head as you coated the underside with your juices. Your brain too far gone to feel ashamed. Just desperate for more pleasure.
"And you say I am cruel." He breathed out. Only able to watch. Twitching in your grasp. Your pleasure was his, seeing you so desperate made his head spin.
"Please keep talking...."
You whimpered out. Nuzzling your face into his hand, using your free hand to keep it close. Seeking out more of his warmth.
He was not as cruel as you think. More than happy to guide you to your orgasm. After all, was that not his job? To help those who appear in his realm, seeking out their dreams.
"So desperate, chasing pleasure only I can give you."
His voice was consuming your brain. It was so soft yet so loud. Rattling in your head like thunder but feeling as gentle as rain. It was as rich as the chocolate you ate earlier. It was one of the things you loved so much about him. Ever since you heard it in your dreams you were always seeking it out. To hear every emotion he could muster.
And that needy breathless tone he was using now? Oh - it made your whole body burn up.
"I can feel how wet you are, completely covering me in your arousal, my love, I bet you'd feel so good clenching around me, do you want that? To no longer feel so empty?"
You nodded, feverishly jerking the head of his cock as you kept bouncing. Unable to reach the spike you needed. You couldn't bring yourself to stop. Too lost in the aggravating slow build of it all. It felt so good yet wasn't enough but you couldn't bare to strip yourself away from this pleasure.
"Morpheus, please fuck me, claim me all over again - I need you-!"
He bucked into your grip. Grabbing your chin as he pulled your face down. Forcing you to stare into his eyes.
"Keep begging for me like that, you sound so sweet."
"Please Dream, please my love, I'm already yours so just take me-! You feel so good- please! Fuck me." You let out a sharp shaky breath as you tried to muster your words. "Fuck me until I can't walk, be good for me, you're always my good boy- please-"
He let out a stuttered groan as he suddenly came. His cum spilling all over your hand as his back hit the ground once again. You gasped as you clenched the head of his cock.
Morpheus grabbed your hips, rolling you both over, aligning your sexes together as he glared down at you.
"I'm going to ravish you."
You didn't even get to say a word. He slowly thrusted in, letting out a soft moan. Shocked at how easily he was able to slid in. Bottoming out instantly as he did one rough thrust. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to keep him as close as possible.
Dream couldn't keep his hands off you. Grabbing at your body as he fucked into you. Your hands turning into fists either side your head, tugging and pulling at the grass below. Your lover desperately trying to ground himself as he lost himself in the feel of your warmth. Feeling every twitch and clench. The lewd squelching that came from between your bodies. It was all too much.
His hands finding their way to your chest, holding you just under your armpits as his thumbs rolled your nipples. Your body was glistening under the sun, still sticky with honey. Just as quick as they came, they were gone. His hands back on your hips as he kept you steady. You pawed at his hands and dream happily took them. Your fingers threaded together as he pounded into you.
You clenched as he hit that certain spot. He knew your body all too well. Knowing exactly how to make you see stars.
One of his hands left yours and moved to your clit. Rolling it in tight circles as he puffed out his chest. His head bowing as he let out a strangled cry. Your walls clenching around him more as your pleasure rose.
"So warm.... hugging me so tight- That's it, feels so good when I touch you here, doesn't it?"
You nodded. "Feels....so...good." Drool was now on the corner of your lips. Eyes wet from how intense everything felt. Your mind was going blank as speaking became a challenge.
Each thrust hitting exactly where you needed. His thumb working you up. That peak coming into your mind's eye as he rolled faster. Adding more pressure. Your eyes rolling back as you screamed. Unable to keep yourself to the ground as your back was stuck arched.
With your free hand you pulled him down by the neck. Grabbing a large chunk of dream's hair as your mouths crashed together. Swallowing each others noises as he kept his brutal pace. You could feel it; he was close too. You needed to cum with him.
Dream felt dizzy. Clenching your hand tight. You felt too good- sometimes he wondered if you were real. So perfect for him. Everytime you two delved into this ocean of pleasure he found himself reluctant to swim. Wanting to drown in every fibre of your being. You were his anchor and hardest temptation.
You were practically choking his cock. Even as his tongue pushed into your mouth you were loud. He could hear every gasp, moan and hitch. What has he done to deserve such a wonderful lover?
Morpheus couldn't keep himself together much longer. Feeling his release dangle Infront of him. His thrusts becoming sloppy as you mewled and whined. Knowing you were hanging on just like him.
Your legs wrapped around him tighter, pushing his hips forward. Wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you. Dream finally parted the kiss. Burying his face in your shoulder as he let out a loud moan. Slamming himself into you as your walls twitched. He trembled as small gasps of air left him. Little whines threading through them as he came.
The sheer force drove you over the edge. Milking every last drop out of him as your orgasm hit you. You hugged him tight as your hands pulled at his hair.
You both panted as your hearts slowly went back to their normal pace. He stayed buried inside you as he slumped. Laying ontop of you as you kept him in a tight hug like a koala. Your fingers now weaving through his hair. Soothing the dull ache he felt in the back of his head. He hummed as he let his muscles completely melt.
"That.....was amazing." You beamed. Nuzzling your face into the mop of darkness on his head.
"You were just as spectacular as always, my love." He kissed your neck. Morpheus mused. His voice somehow becoming even deeper. You let out a small laugh as you kissed his head. Thanking him for his kind words.
"Are you feeling okay? Was it too much?"
"No, it was perfect - what about you? How are you feeling?"
"Just as content." He hummed.
With that you smiled. Letting your eyes flutter, enjoying having him so close. The world blurring as you closed your eyes. Embracing the blanket of heat the sun gave the two of you. This was better than any dream you could think of.
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