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waywardsummoner46 · 1 year

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Eternity, Part One

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x (?)Reader

Summary: You should’ve known that running from your past would be your downfall… you just never would’ve imagined it’d land you right into the waiting arms of an Endless, one that’s been searching for you for eons. he may be trapped for now, but your new job at Fawny Rig may just be the solution for that. Heed the warnings: you took something from him and now he must consume you for himself…

Word Count: 2392

Warnings: mind manipulation/control, possessive and obsessive behaviour, mental breakdown, suggestions of psychological torture, threat of bones collapsing,more to added with more chapters

A/N: Heyyyyy, I know it's a tad bit late to be posting the first part to a prologue that was released like two months ago but it's here now! And it's longer than what I usually write so I hope that makes up for it. Enjoy this while you can because Morpheus is about to get a whole lot freakin' worse. As always, I hope you're okay and let me know what you think!

Fawny Rig had an… impressive exterior, to say the least.

Chuckling to yourself, you knew that living in somewhere as grand and beautiful as there would be a concept you’d never be able to experience. Although, based on the job description, it seemed as though the owners were quite friendly and presumably welcoming enough for it to seem like some sort of a home.

Holding the advertisement in your hand, you contemplated how this would actually work; were you to be a permanent resident? Semi-permanent? Maybe this would be a day thing? Exhaling once, you decided just to wing it (within reason, of course).

Speaking of wings, there was the distinct sound of a raven squawking in the distance. Curiously, you looked around and smiled slightly when you saw a beautiful raven perched upon your bag handle.

“Oh, aren’t you beautiful?”

Almost naively, you reached out a hand with the childish hope of being able to stroke the creature. You completely ignored the health risks that came with birds and it appeared to work out in your favour as the raven’s wings preened and glittered as the sun reflected off of them.

A small smile spread across your face, “Oh yes, you are. Absolutely gorgeous.”

For a while, you merely stood over your bags and admired the raven, so majestically offering itself up for your generous petting. However, the more you stroked it, the more the distinct feeling that you’d seen it before grew. Come to think of it, your palm had started itching… again. God dammit, you seriously needed to keep track of your meds.

Reluctantly, you pulled one hand away from the bird and reached for your tablets in your pocket. The incessant crinkling of the paper annoyed you and furthered the pain of trying to extract a pill from its case. Once you’d finally managed to wriggle it out, you let out a triumphant sound.

The bird was temporarily forgotten and as you lifted the tablet up to your mouth, the screeching of the raven caused you to drop the pill. Exasperated, you turned to the raven. “Come on, dude. I need those.”

When the bird raised a brow, you blinked incredulously. But then, it cawed a final time and flew off with the rest of your medication. “Hey! Get back here! This isn’t funny, bird!”

“Miss, is everything alright?” A timid voice called from the entrance to the manor. Oh jeez, this was embarrassing .

Turning around with, what you hoped was, a friendly and not-at-all crazy smile on your face, you made the regrettable decision to forget about the bird. “Yes, thank you. Sorry, a raven just stole my medication. I’m not crazy, I swear,” you offered a light chuckle.

Luckily, the young lady seemed to accept your words for she made idle chit-chat as she invited you in. The maid, Blythe as she’d introduced herself, led you into a well-furnished and incredibly artefactual, antiquated living room and told you to enjoy the pre-prepared drinks as she called your employers.

Glancing around the room as her rhythmic footsteps grew quieter, you began to realise how out of your depth you were; never in your life had you been responsible for a job on such an important scale before. It wasn’t even that the job was difficult or in anyway out of your capabilities, it’s just that the weight of-

“Ah, (Y/N), a pleasure to meet you. How are you? How was your trip? I hope you’re familiar with basements because that’s where you’ll be situated,” Alex Burgess spoke from where he was being wheeled by his husband, Paul. His bluntness caught you slightly off-guard, there was something underlying there that clearly made him anxious if his darting eyes were any indication.

Immediately, you stood and stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Burgess. My trip was good, thank you. And, yes, basements are something I’m acclimated to,” well that was complete and utter bullshit. Basements were a big no-no for you. Nothing good ever came from them, nothing, especially after…

“Blythe informed me that a… raven… flew away with your medication?” He asked, drawing you away from your thoughts. Embarrassingly, your cheeks flushed and you began to stutter.

“Y-yeah, that’s right. I didn’t even realise until it nearly deafened me.”

Alex Burgess seemed to tense in his wheelchair, why? You did not know, but curiosity killed the cat. “Is everything okay?”

Snapping out a daze, he gave you a quick glance before asking Paul to guide him back upstairs. “Everything’s fine, thank you.” He gave you one last small smile before turning his attention to Blythe, “If you could show Miss (Y/N) to her room and inform her of her duties that would be marvellous.”

Blythe paled almost imperceptibly, but you noticed, you always noticed. Worry churned your gut and your head turned suspiciously.

“Do you mean…?”

He nodded and that’s all the answer she had before both Burgesses left.

Frozen, she stood in place and stared through the floor. The emptiness in her eyes made you uneasy. You took a tentative step towards her, “Blythe?” Snapping her head towards you, she stumbled away, her expression signifying she was seeing something you could not. “Woah, Blythe, take deep breaths. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you.”

The young maid was incapable of listening, of seeing reason. Tempted to call for someone, you paused when her panicked breathing came to a halt. Similarly to before, she acted as though you were a window except this time she started muttering. It was indistinguishable at first, it soon grew to murmurs, to normal words, to shouts, and finally to panicked, urgent yells of pure unadulterated terror.

“Leave! You need to leave! He’s here, he knows you’re here. He won’t stop until you give. It. BACK! GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK!”

Now it was you who was frozen. Rational thought escaped you, instead overwhelming confusion and slight panic consumed you. What was she talking about? Who was “he”? How did he know you were here? What did he want back?

Two men clad in suits walked in and wrestled with Blythe’s manic form out of the room, leaving you haunted by her echoing screams down the corridors. Concerned, though you were, bewilderment ceased you from forming any coherent functions for a time - only when Paul came to escort you to your room did you snap out of your daze.

He made small talk as he guided you to your room, apologising for your rocky and traumatising beginning and assuring you that tomorrow wouldn’t be like this. You responded in kind, albeit numbly. In all honesty, you were disturbed with everyone’s behaviour above all else; Alex seemed anxious at the mention of a raven, then Blythe had had a mental breakdown and what appeared to be a flashback and now, Paul was acting as though he was used to it, as though they were all used to it.

Despite your brain not working at full capacity, you managed to bid Paul a good evening and settled in for an early night. Despite your brain not working at full capacity, you knew that there was something going on here, something they were hiding. You’d be damned if you weren’t going to find out… What worried you was this man Blythe had spoken about and how he knew you were here. Another resident, perhaps? A neighbour? Couldn’t be, there wasn’t another house for miles, at least not one that you’d seen.

You had no further options, so you surrendered to exhaustion and hoped that your dreams might bring you some peace…

You were in the forest again. The same one. The same leaves crunching under your feet, the same sounds being your breath, the same stars gazing down at you from the heavens and the same raven, cawing nervously from where it was standing next to your sitting form.

Regarding it with suspicion, you hesitantly gestured for it to perch itself on your shoulder. Once it did, your suspicion turned into contentment. Nature always puts you at ease, and after the night you’d had you needed a break. Speaking of the night you’d had, your thoughts began to drift towards the inner turmoil Blythe’s outburst had caused you.

The abruptness of the entire situation wasn’t lost on you, in fact, it only made you more and more anxious about the job you’d applied for on a whim. Because that’s all it was, wasn’t it? A whim?

Your eyes absentmindedly traced the curves and edges of the leaves around you as you reflected on the past few days: you’d always made a point to consider things and pinpoint each and every outcome. Your experiences and past had instilled that habit into you from a very young age so your careless decision to take this job was extremely uncharacteristic and that scared you.

No matter who you surround yourself with, you ensured that you never grew an attachment that could influence your decision making so you were left puzzled over your future and past - your present, even!

Leaves crunching to your right jolted you out of your reverie. In your skittishness, the raven flew off your shoulder and onto the man who’d entered your space. You registered vaguely that you recognised him, his chiselled features and ethereal complex making it nigh impossible to forget and yet, a headache brewed when you thought too hard about it, about anything really.

Your eyes looked over him and widened when they met his own; it was pure darkness. Pure darkness with hints of white, of-of stars, you realised, this man had literal space within his eyes.

Dazedly, you muttered, “What the hell?”

Calmly and with the grace of a king, he moved towards you. Half of you fought to step back but the other half was utterly captivated by his gaze, completely caught up in the vastness of his eyes and the emptiness within.

Suddenly, his gaze turned more intense and all fight left you within an instant. That stuck you as odd, why did your emotions sway that intensely?

Before you could question it, he raised his hand, his palm facing the sky, and your eyes were inexplicably glued to it. There was something scarily familiar about this situation… but even that nagging feeling wasn’t enough for you to ignore the urge to place your hand in his own. Eyes completely focused and brain becoming fuzzier by the second, you took in a shuddering gasp and moved your arm up.

The distance between each of your hands was closing and with it the lack of coherent thought in your brain, the lack of any idea apart from take his hand.

His celestial eyes were staring hungrily at your hand and when it finally, finally, made contact with his own, he let out a gasp so loud that it broke you out of whatever stupor you’d been in.

“What the hell? Who are y-mmph!”

The man had pulled you into his chest and now had both of his arms caging you in, like a bird imprisoned, completely helpless to its situation. Too awestruck to do anything apart from numbly stare into his shoulder, you struggled to comprehend your situation. You knew that this was a dream and yet the complete and utter ridiculous situation and worrying feelings you were experiencing caused scepticism to dominate your brain.

The man was warm, you had to admit. Probably because of his intricately crafted black cloak. He was also strong if the feeling of his arms around you and your unfortunately placed hands on his chest were of any significance.

“Are you gonna let go any time soon, mister? Orrrrr…”

Speaking up was the wrong thing to do; his arms tightened once more except, they didn’t actually stop. You grew confused, and scared, especially once it became difficult to breathe. Was he trying to kill you with a hug? That would look amazing on a tombstone: “Death by Hug.”

Regardless of your wandering mind, your physical body was under extreme stress. Bones began to grind together and you could’ve sworn you heard some crack. There was no pain, though, so perhaps you were overreacting in the uncomfortable moment.

“Once we have merged, my love, I will finally be able to care for you in the way only you deserve. But you must give it up to me, willingly,” his low voice directly in your ears sent chills down your spine. There it was again, this giving someone something back. Blythe’s outburst seriously did affect you, didn’t it?

“This is no mere dream, little one. Have you truly forgotten me?”

You tried to pull back slightly, to garner any sort of information from his facial expression that you couldn’t from his tone of voice, but he withheld unbearably tight - it was a struggle to even understand what he’d said.

You wet your lips, “I don’t even know who I… am… anymore.”

Like he’d been struck, he reeled back and peered intensely into your half lidded eyes. He looked scandalised, but why? He didn’t know you, he didn’t even exist outside of this dream! You’d just had a taxing day and your subconscious was taking it out on you.

A sudden look of pure rage crossed his face and you flinched back much like he had done only seconds before. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into a look of cold indifference.

“Then there is only one thing to be done.”

Just like that, you awoke. The first thing you registered was the sounds of shouting, shortly thereafter an agonising scream permeated throughout the manor and you were instantly wide awake.

Somehow you knew, you didn’t know how but you knew that something was wrong with Blythe. Something was wrong with this house and its residents. And you had a sneaking suspicion that it all stemmed from this… man… who haunted them before and who now haunts you.

Fear unlike any other twisted your heart painfully behind your ribcage. Yet there was also something pulling at it, almost willing it in a way, to leave the room and investigate what was happening. So you did what any other person would do - you left the confines of your room into what would unknowingly change your life… for eternity.

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Tag list~

@lweina

@azrielloveselain

@the-ruler-of-death

@moonmaiden1996

@intothesoul

@lilithskywalker

@amandarobertsboyce

@carolcrysis

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!morpheus #dark!dream

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teejaystumbles · 13 days

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Well, since the idea of it is what got me to go watch Hannibal...Do tell about Unsustainable (Dreamling Hannibal AU)!!! :D

(I think you probably know all there is to know already 😅 because sadly I didn't work on it one bit since its inception... I know, I'm sorry. The Hannibal mood is a hard one to achieve and stay in for long enough. But I still love it and hope I'll write more for it someday. I think it can only profit from me gaining more writing experience in the meantime!)

Unsustainable is a Dreamling AU with the premise that Dream comes out of the fishbowl broken, and with a grudge. Here's a good summary I wrote a long while back:

Hob doesn’t know Dream personally. He got his immortality from Death, he has a standing appointment with her, not Dream. Dream has only watched those meetings but always declined his sister’s invitation to join them and get to know Hob. He has started to watch him and his dreams more closely though after 1689, has sent him appropriate nightmares after 1789, has in fact indulged more and more in watching him. So much, that he is focused on Hob alone as a possible ally after his escape. His imprisonment has made Dream cruel, almost feral, but his exemplary control allows him to hide that dark side rising inside him. He approaches Hob and finds it not hard at all to convince him to help him get revenge after a few meetings. Dream becomes more and more obsessed with Hob, he wants him to be the mongoose under the house when the snakes slither by. He also wants him in every other conceivable way. Hob is not averse, not at all, he’s head over heels for this beautiful brother of his stranger, he has finally found someone who knows him, needs him, can be there forever if he doesn’t chase him away, so he’s careful and kind. He soon realises that Dream does not want him to be kind, though, does in fact seem to revel in it when Hob loses his temper. The things Dream asks him to do are nothing to an ex-soldier and he believes he is giving bad people their just desserts. The weird behaviour of some of them, as if they are dreaming, makes him wonder, though.

It features a lot of dark themes - revenge; murder and violence; Hob being into near-death experiences; Morpheus praising the Corinthian instead of atomising him; mind fuckery and gaslighting-

it's a heavy one and I honestly don't know if I can ever pull it off, it's a bit different from the things I usually write. But I might just be in the mood to explore it again one day :3 until then, have a bit of what I've already written (I've forgotten if I've already shared it, sorry):

The King of Dreams! What a wonder! Hob loves this. "Pleasure to meet you, Morpheus. Your majesty. What do you prefer? But I warn you, I am not a fan of monarchy and a peasant at heart. So forgive me if I, ah, behave like a boor." He winks cheekily at the other and sees his nostrils flare in irritation. He does not seem angry, though. He looks... curious. "Morpheus is fine. I will not stand on ceremony with one I...would like to call... friend. Hob Gadling." He leans back in his chair and tilts his head back a fraction, looking at Hob down his perfect long nose. He gives a miniscule smirk and adds: “I also believe you to be perfectly capable of quite a number of things. Including courtly manners. Do not sell yourself short… Sir Robert Gadlen.” Hob sucks in a breath and twitches his fingers restlessly. He can barely refrain from jiggling his leg, so thrilled is he. This man, this…being, knows him! Knows him like Death knows him! He grins and leans back to hide his twitching fingers under the table and grip his trouser leg instead. “So tell me, brother of Death. Why did you decide to meet me? I believe she has invited you to join us a number of times. You never came. Why now?” The red pinpricks of light in the Dreamking’s eyes flicker. His smile grows for a moment before his face becomes deadly serious. “My sister has praised you, Hob Gadling. You are. A good friend to her. She believes you can be a good friend to me as well.” He leans forward and puts his hands on the table between them, palms up like an offering, an invitation, a question. “I am in need. Of a friend. Someone who will help me. Retrieve what was stolen from me.” Morpheus’ blue eyes are boring holes into Hob’s and Hob shivers and blinks. He licks his lips again and then, cautiously, reaches out for one of the bone white hands on the table. The moment he comes into touching distance Morpheus pulls his hands back, eyes wide. He flicks his gaze down and away and then up again to meet Hob’s once more and Hob feels like he has just stuck his hand into the cage of a tiger. Morpheus’ eyes burn with a fiery red light. He swallows and Hob tracks the movement of his Adam's apple, feeling his own throat go dry. He clears it awkwardly and puts his hand palm down on the table. Clearly touching doesn’t seem to be a good idea just yet. “If you are in trouble, I am happy to help”, he says, smiling gently at the other who still looks like a spooked animal ready to attack. At Hob’s quiet words the man blinks and, in a second, regains his composure, his face giving nothing of the obvious discomfort he just felt away. Hob breathes an inconspicuous sigh of relief, feeling like he just avoided getting his throat ripped out by a feral beast.“I would. Very much appreciate that.” Death’s brother says in his deep rumble of a voice and Hob signals the waiter for another pint. “Then let’s talk.”

#dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #asks #fic: unsustainable #dark!Dream #dreamling hannibal au #teejay writes

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dotieeee · 1 year

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The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 21

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

dub-con smut

Deviousness, manipulation and gaslighting galore

Barely edited, please bear with me

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 21/Epilogue: A Sibling's Offer

You open your eyes to a million galaxies cradled in ocean blue.

The eyes of your creator, so soft, so benevolent, so full of affection. Slowly, your lips widen to match his tender smile as his hands gently cup your cheeks, so warm you could melt in them. He dips his head closer to yours as if his eyes could see nothing else before him. You could feel heat spread across your cheeks as he caresses your lips with his touch - he hums, as if in approval of your reaction.

“My little dream, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect,” with his lips barely moving, he whispers in a deep, velvety, hypnotic voice.

“The entire realm pales in comparison to your radiance.”

Speechless at his praise, you watch as he pulls away, instantly depriving you of his warmth, his expression never changing.

“I am Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.”

“My Lord,” you speak for the first time, in awe of your master’s beauty, wanting nothing but to venerate him for giving you life.

“My Mera, tell me,” your King says, a look of concern marring his ethereal features. “What do you last remember?”

You furrow your brows in concentration, but your thoughts land on mere snippets - glimpses of what seems like a former life, now long-forgotten; lines of tall, wooden shelves filled with books as far as your eyes could see, bodies drawn together, flushed in a fevered embrace, soft lips searching yours with hunger…

And you eventually giving in and kissing him back just as passionately.

The picture is suddenly crystal clear. You blush at the vivid image of you and your creator in each other’s arms, so you speak bashfully, “We kissed…in the library…”

Worried you might be wrong and upset him, you peer into his eyes in search of a sign that you have displeased him, but there was none - his eyes, sparkling with all the stars they hold, are full of nothing but adoration.

“My Lord, were we lovers?”

Your innocent question brings a shine to his eyes you could not read. He gathers your cheeks in his palm once more and brings your forehead close to his.

“We are.”

Your mind runs through the memory - the only memory you seem to have - in search of clues about your supposed relationship. You would never show it, but it frustrated you a little to have no recall of his love, especially when it seemed to run deep and with utter devotion.

“We loved each other, didn’t we?”

He closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction.

“You vowed to devote yourself wholly, only unto me, for eternity.”

He is gentle when his lips descend on yours as if wanting you to make true to your promise. Tentatively, you return his kiss and wrap your arms around his neck - he is your King, your creator and lover, and you trust him with your life, so you stay in his tight embrace until all that you know is his love, burning and all-consuming.

At the back of your mind is something telling you it isn’t right, but you pay it no mind: what wrong could there be, when your creator is by your side, ready to take your troubles away?

***

You were more than eager to begin your duties, crafting inspiring dreams in your master’s name, but he himself was adamant that you stayed in the confines of his palace where he could always reach you. Even though you were temporarily taken out of commission, you took his orders to heart: the accident which robbed you of your former self was still fresh in his mind, so for you, it was clear that his actions meant he was trying to keep you from further harm.

But it also frustrated you a little - if you could just remember what had happened to you and why it happened, maybe you could help prevent it from ever happening again. You decide to tell him this one day in his throne room, where you find him sitting on the bottom of the winding stairs to his royal seat. Your king greets you with a small, warm smile - a rarity, you discovered, but which he gives you freely - and closes the book he had opened on his lap. Curtsying just as you get close, you open up to him about recovering your memories, to which his expression goes sombre before beckoning you closer.

“My dream, it is possible that your memories may never come back.”

As soon as you’re within his reach, he snakes an arm around your midriff and strokes your cheeks with another. You could tell how deeply saddened he was about you forgetting many things. There were, after all, memories he shared with you.

“Why is that, Lord Morpheus?” you ask, not at all comforted by soft gestures. “What happened to me?”

He tilts down your chin so you could look only at him. “It was a loss I almost could not bear,” he reveals while he traces your lips with his eyes and toys with your hair. “You met a terrible accident, my Mera. I wish for you to be spared the details.”

You run your fingers idly through his hair, fascinated by how soft it is. “And you saved me, my Lord?”

“I did.”

You let out a tiny yelp just as he pulls you to his lap and cradles you in his cloak. “I thought I was too late, but you held steadfast. I will not allow such a terrible fate upon you again, you have my word.”

***

He calls upon you to his chambers one night. You had an inkling what for when Morwyn gave you the word, and perhaps you had been expecting it; he’s allowed you privacy in your own chambers for months since the day he gave you life anew, but you were aware he has needs that have to be fulfilled.

Knowing that, however, does not make it any less nerve-wracking.

You decide to enter your King’s quarters early in the night. Thankfully, you find it empty of his presence, so you spend the next moments alone, circling the wide expanse of his room, getting increasingly anxious as you watch the night sky from his window turn from orange to purple, to midnight blue and littered with the glittering stars of your master’s creation.

You’re admiring a particular marble sculpture in a corner of his room when you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand, and arms pulling you tight and pressing your back tightly against a warm, rumbling chest.

Gasping audibly at the pair of lips nipping at your earlobe, you whisper, “Lord Morpheus, you gave me quite a fright!”

“My apologies, little dream,” he says with a seemingly pleased hum. “I have missed you terribly.”

He spins you around and instantly places his mouth on yours in a heated kiss that makes your knees weak, so you hold on to his shoulders, while one of his hands grasps the back of your neck, the other you could feel stroking your back and fondling your dress ties. With his lips tracing yours and his tongue making yours dance with his, he takes your breath away.

Which is why even you don’t understand why you break it off so suddenly.

Is he going to be mad? You ask yourself.

“I’m sorry my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper apologetically against his cloaked chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug and hoping you could placate him. You could feel your heartbeat soar through the roof and you could swear he could feel it too.

“There is nothing to apologise for, my dream,” he replies, rubbing your back in an effort to soothe you. He places a lingering kiss on your temple while his finger traces circles on your shoulder. Releasing a low, rumbling hum, he nuzzles your neck as he pulls you ever closer to his body, taking in your scent, an act that leaves goosebumps all over your arms.

“Lord Morpheus, were we…intimate in my previous form?”

Your innocent question does not seem to faze your creator.

“We were passionately in love, my Mera. We indulged in the pleasures of the flesh night after night.”

As if to prove his point, his lips travel down from your neck to your shoulders, peppering your skin with soft kisses and hot licks, all of which leave you panting in his hold and a feeling of wetness gathering between your thighs as you rub them together.

But, once again, no matter how good he was making you feel, you still find yourself pulling away from him. Breathless, you back away into a wall, thinking you’ve angered him this time, but you brave a look at him, only to see him look forlorn as he slowly approaches you.

“It wasn’t just you who I mourned for that day.” Stopping just a few feet from you, he reveals, “You were with our child in your previous form when you…when you passed.”

You clasp your hand over your mouth at the only information he reveals about your passing. His eyes, dulling at the pain of such an enormous loss, are glazed with tears unshed for your unborn child, and it was all because of you.

“I didn’t know.” You muster the courage to close the distance between you and place a trembling palm on his cheek. Welcoming your touch, he leans onto it, clasping it with his own and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. His grief was all your fault, and you couldn’t even remember. With tears cascading your cheeks, you say, “I’m sorry, I’m terribly sorry, Lord Morpheus. I should’ve taken better care of us…”

“That was not your doing, my dream,” he responds with the gentleness you know you don’t deserve. He kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, still wet with tears, which he wills away. He then captures your lips with his in a slow, searing kiss, and this time, you kiss him back without reservations, hoping you could share even just a tiny amount of the pain he bears.

It isn’t long before the kiss becomes more passionate, his lips more insistent and his tongue swirling around yours insistently. He suckles your bottom lip before he grows bolder - his lips make their way to your jawline, then to your neck, where he licks and nips at your skin. He seems to be spurred on by how your chest starts heaving up and down, for he starts biting the strap of your dress and lowering it to your arms, exposing more of the flesh he seems adamant about marking. Licking his way back up, his lips brushing over your ears, he whispers in a tone laced with hunger:

“There is no one else I desire, my Mera, no one, across all realms and dimensions. Just you.”

He bites your earlobe just as you feel his hands undo the ribbon at the back of your dress. For some reason, the anxiousness you felt before comes back, making you close your eyes and whimper, just as he pulls away to take your mouth in his.

You bite your lower lips as you hear a tiny, disapproving growl from the back of his throat.

“Why do you reject my touch?” he whispers against your temple. “Losing you was painful enough, so why do you spurn me and hurt me still? Do you not love me, my Mera?”

Sniffling and choking back your tears, you respond, “I do, Morpheus. I love you.”

“Then, grant me this.”

Your actions cost him his child. It’s the least you could do.

With your lips trembling, you give him a small nod. “Take comfort in me, my King: do with me as you wish.”

Ignoring the way your skin crawled at your words, you let your King take you in his arms and carry you to his bed, with your dress barely clinging to your form. With all the gentleness he possesses, he lowers you on the silken sheets, and with a single move, removes all your clothing, just as his own disappear in a wink - all while not breaking eye contact with you for even a single moment.

He takes a while to appreciate the sight you offer: you, bare underneath him, bashfully peering into his face. His eyes, laden with barely contained lust, roam your form freely while you squirm at the attention.

You love him, you tell yourself. You’re doing this for him.

After a long, agonising minute, he descends on you at last, his sculpted chest hovering over you almost threateningly as his mouth finds yours, and his hands rake every inch of your skin he could reach. You lie back down and take all of it - his mouth licking and nipping your jaw, your neck, and your collarbones, his hands groping and squeezing your breasts, his knee parting your thighs so he could nestle between them - you take them all.

You love him.

You let out an involuntary moan as his hot mouth finds its way to your nipple. Biting down and suckling, his other hand pinches your other nipple while your back arches further to welcome his touches. With your breathing turning shallow, your hips squirm underneath him, intent on finding more of the friction he provides.

Chuckling darkly, he pulls away, only for a brief moment, to chide you:

“Patience, my little dream. I shall have you soon. For now, I thirst for something only you could quench.”

From your stomach, he licks his way down to his goal: that increasingly throbbing mound between your legs.

You watch him as he teases you further by planting butterfly kisses on your inner thighs, then surprising you by biting down the flesh and leaving bruising marks on your flesh. When he reaches your pulsating flesh, already wet even before he laid you down, you let out an embarrassingly loud, high-pitched moan, unable to help yourself. With that devious tongue of his, he parts your folds at an achingly slow pace, flicking your clit with it as he does. He repeats the action over and over, before delving further down, licking your entrance and lapping up everything you offer. You could do nothing but cling onto the pillow on your head as you close your eyes, mewling at his ministrations.

But he squeezes your thighs in a warning.

“Eyes. On. Me.” he enunciates every word of his command.

Jerking them open, you maintain eye contact with your King just as he sucks your clit - it’s all you could do to come undone within minutes as he holds your hips down and gorges on the feast that is your elixir. Immediately, you’re thrown into a world of pleasure your current body has yet to be familiar with, and you’re left weak and panting, and somehow yearning for so much more.

“Your sweet nectar will be my undoing. I crave more of you, my Mera. I must have you now.”

You’re broken from your lustful reverie once he looms over your body. As he parts your thighs further apart and nestles his hips between them, a trepidation awakens in you, and your hands, of their own volition, claw at his chest, and tears you don’t know the source of come bursting forth. You glimpse a flash of onyx in your Lord’s eyes of what looks like fury just before he takes your wrists and pins them to your sides, amplifying your bizarre fear. You tilt your head to the side, weeping and apologising profusely, dreading punishment from him. His lips descend to your exposed ear, shushing you gently.

“Shh, little dream. You have nothing to fear from me.”

You give a small nod as the anxiety you felt dissipates as soon as it came. You swallow a lump in your throat - you could feel his hips shift slightly, his hard member pushing against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, while your creator releases your wrists and lovingly wipes your tears away. “Will it hurt, my Lord?”

He takes your question as a sign, so he starts aligning his cock over your entrance, untouched in this body, all while he cups your cheek as if trying to be a source of your comfort.

“Fear not our joining, my dream. We are fated, and so is this.”

As you lay within his hold, already resigned to your fate, you feel something large and hot and pulsating invade your body, tearing through your flesh and making you cry out in pain. Your King shushes you, this time peppering your tear-stained face and neck with soft kisses; he pushes himself further inside your protesting body, groaning above you in pleasure while you sob profusely at his intrusion.

You love him. This is all for him.

“Relax for me, dream of mine,” he whispers hotly against your skin, then proceeds to leave open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone and breasts.

You try to relieve yourself of the tension, but it’s impossible, especially as he shoves his entire length inside you, stretching your walls more than you could ever imagine. He pulls his head away to look into your face, and you focus on his eyes, brimming with lust he could no longer contain. Still whimpering and breathing shallowly, you feel him withdraw his cock almost entirely before pushing it back in with slightly more force and speed. Tears continue to spill from your eyes at the unfamiliar friction, but you take it all, you take it all for him. He repeats his actions, settling for a pace that eventually allows you to adjust to his size. Moaning and making strangled noises at the back of your throat, your thoughts of wriggling away from underneath him die down as he grabs your waist and starts bringing you to his hips to meet his thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to mount in your body and you arch your back, your muscles now clenching and unclenching his cock uncontrollably, eager for more. Your hips, now meeting your King’s thrusts, melts in his hold, so when he picks up a pace at a slightly different angle that makes you see stars, you all but welcome the endless amount of pleasure he’s giving with heavy moans that echo his chambers.

You love him.

The eyes that refuse to leave yours darken, glistening with unbridled carnal longing, and with a bruising grip on your hips, he begins an uninhibited pace.

“You are perfect, my Mera,” he praises. “You’re mine. Mine.”

You try to bite down the embarrassing sounds coming from your mouth, but this earns you a displeased look from your King; he draws his body even closer as he wraps your legs around him, the angle making you scream into the night while his unforgiving pace brings an intense heat in your abdomen. It isn’t long before the heat explodes, and immediately, you fall - you come with your creator’s name on your lips, a screaming, sweaty, writhing mess, while his hands anchor your hips, unceasing and growing increasingly erratic with his thrusts to seek his own. Amplifying your orgasm, he, too, comes undone with a loud groan that shakes his castle. An almost overwhelming warmth floods your core, making you moan incoherently, and as he pumps more of it inside you, he whispers your name over and over in utter ecstasy. He waits for your breathing to even out, pulling your foreheads close and cupping your face before his mouth descends on yours and rolls his tongue languidly on yours, kissing you with so much adoration you couldn’t help but moan in satisfaction and run your fingers through his messy locks.

As with everything, your high fades, replaced with an indescribable, dull ache between your legs, where his cock is still buried. You break away from the kiss, releasing a tiny whine from the back of your throat. Perhaps recognizing the pain you’re in, your master pulls out of you completely. You roll over your stomach to find some sort of relief, and as your inner thighs brush together, you could feel some of his sticky substance spill out, coating them with the evidence of your union.

Your Dream Lord does not lie down beside you like you expect him to - instead, you could feel his lips caressing your shoulders, biting down on the skin you could feel it sting. He continues doing this all across your back, while you could feel him press up on your backside, his once-again hard cock probing your entrance. Your whimpers of protest are all but ignored, and in a swift motion, he sheathes his entire length inside your still-aching walls, which earns a soft squeal from you. He kisses his way from your back to your ear, purring wantonly:

“You took me so well, dream of mine. You will take one more for your King.”

You could only nod, helpless, when he grabs ahold of your waist, bringing your hips to his as he starts pounding relentlessly, parting your cheeks so he could get further access. Grabbing the pillow and squeezing with your might so you could take it, you remind yourself that you’re doing this for your creator, the King who fathered the child you lost, the being you pledged your life, your heart and your soul to. You love him.

Right?

***

“Dream, if I ever hear her soul call out for me in any way, I will snatch her away from you without warning, I will take her soul where even you can’t go, and you’ll never find her again!”

Dream of the Endless recalls his sister’s threat in the cave of the Great Void with an inward flinch. She was kind enough to allow him to keep your soul (it is his right, after all, and he didn’t need her permission), but he is aware he is treading on thin ice, now that his sister is forever going to keep an eye on his affairs. He had made a vow to her to give you a choice in your resurrected form: one between him and the other, to remain only as his dream, free of his pursuit and his love. He had made true to his words, of course.

Conveniently, he had glossed over the part about modifying your memories - just a little, just enough so he could gently push you into choosing him.

Even more aware is he of the fragile state of your soul - as disturbed as he was when he saw your bright light flicker and dim, he knows it would prove useful to him. Apparently, your soul had been using its energy and manifesting itself as a voice, calling out to his sisters for help. He had no prior knowledge of this until Death had inadvertently revealed this important little tidbit - was this why even your past forms have been resistant to him? How long had your soul been rebelling and turning your mind against him?

But, none of that mattered now - your soul is all but close to being diminished - it would no longer bother you nor him. He had been seeing remnants here and there of your defiance, causing you to pull away from him several times on your first night with him in this current body. He could see how it brought you so much distress, not knowing why you were doing it, you had been so regretful of those actions you could not control, so he is patient - he could be, for you - he will continue to push that disobedience in you aside until it baulks. It will only be a matter of time, he surmises.

Even more vexing to him was the manner with which his siblings had obtruded with matters they should not have. His little sister, Delirium, who had confessed to helping you by leading you to that mortal you had claimed to love, and then, his sister Death, who had attempted to wrench your soul from his grasp: why had the two of them become so invested in his affairs, when his other, normally-meddlesome sibling had gone unusually silent since the events related to the Vortex?

This is the reason why he isn’t much surprised when the sibling in question requests his audience for the first time in centuries.

“Dream, dear brother, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Can I come in?” comes his sibling’s smooth, echoing in his throne room. “Pretty please?”

Morpheus feels his eyes narrow at his sibling’s request. What could they possibly want at this time?

“Desire,” he mutters. He exhales audibly as he closes the book he was reading only a few moments ago, emitting a small cloud of dust from its pages. He’s lost interest in the book.

“You may enter.”

Drumming his fingers on his throne’s armrest, he watches his sibling’s lithe form manifest at the foot of the stairs leading up to his throne, wearing a sleek, double-breasted suit.

“Hello Dream,” they greet, a wide, toothy smile adorning their cat-like features.

Morpheus does not feel like returning the smile. Sand rises from the ground to form an ornate, high-backed velvet seat for his sibling, which they gracefully plop onto. “To what do I owe this visit, sibling?”

“Oh, I was just checking up on you - worried, actually,” Desire says with a bat of their eyelashes, crossing their legs and leaning back on the velvet chair. “Tell me, how's your ongoing project? Have you perfected her yet?”

Dream feels his eye twitch in slight annoyance. “My current undertakings are my business, my little sibling.” None of your business.

Humming thoughtfully, his sibling places a well-manicured nail on their lips. “I'm just surprised how, even after you've recreated her over and over for the past millennium, you can't seem to make her...bend to your will. Pun most definitely intended.”

Desire laughs, throwing their head back in their mirth. “Truth always seems to have a way of worming its way to her.” They sling their knees over the armrest and lay their head back on the other, continuing, “I remember her visit to my Threshold about.. four centuries ago, I suppose. She was the seventh, I think? She was so distraught, so desperate for my guidance. And, like the Mera before this current one, she was in love.”

They let their tongue roll on the last phrase for emphasis, which somehow Dream finds incredibly irritating. Quietly, he drags a nail against the marble armrest, while feigning disinterest:

“Oh?”

His sibling pouts and places a hand on their chest, saying, “Looking back now, I think it was cruel of dear Destiny to have orchestrated this on the man’s poor lineage. She was in love with a Chapman.” They side-eye Dream for a gauge of his reaction. “The poor doctor and his ancestors seem to have a penchant for attracting your stubborn, wayward creation. Did I not mention this before? Wait, I did!”

The laugh they let out, louder than the former, is mirthless and bounces against his throne room walls.

“That’s why you cursed his descendants!” They sigh deeply, and in what sounds like contentment, before placing their palms in the air to admire their nail polish.

“Anyway, the poor thing had no one to talk to, no friends, no family…I didn’t know you could go so low as to keep her isolated. But it wasn’t her love for the Chapman fellow that drew me to her. Surprisingly, her heart’s deepest, innermost desire was freedom - for everything to end. Sadly, it wasn’t mine to give. Anyway, you should be thanking me for what I did. I may have nudged her little mortal lover to take another woman. My twin sister indulged in her misery, she practically bathed in it.”

“Enough.”

Dream, already on the verge of banishing his mischievous blood relation from his realm, shifts in his seat in his ire, his jaw clenching and eyes turning silver and wanting very much to break something. He need not be reminded of how the dream he’s fallen in love with seems to choose anyone else but him, no matter what form they take. “I have no need to hear of the petty games you and your meddlesome twin play at my creation’s expense. I should have your blood for that, if not for the fact that I have remedied your misdeed.”

“By ‘remedied,’ you mean ‘unmade.’”

Feeling his self-control wane in an instant, he stands to his feet abruptly, the book on his lap falling several steps down the stairs. They dare insinuate that he had caused your demise?

Desire just rolls their eyes and curls their lips at his outburst, brushing it off. “Oh Dream, it was merely a joke. I mean, she doesn’t always get to be unmade by you, of course.”

They follow their brother’s action and get to their feet. They walk up the stairs to get closer to the monarch, who’s currently fuming in rage underneath his composed mask.

“Let me get to my point, then. I came here to help you.”

Dream replies with a biting tone, “And what on earth makes you think that I am in need of your aid?”

“Oh, dear brother, you know of my expertise. Surely, you know just what I can do to your little dream. I can make her want you. Make her crave only your touch. Imagine, a Mera, completely under the spell of her master, her King, submitting to her Creator's wildest fantasies. I mean, there is no one better suited for that task than me. All you have to do is ask.”

Always suspicious of his devious sibling’s intentions, he purses his lips with a heavy scowl marring his pale features. “You’re assuming this one will fail.”

Desire sits on one of his armrests and places a hand on his shoulder, the other toying with his hair. “Oh, I don't know. I just want to spare you the heartbreak of her being uncreated for, what, the tenth, twelfth time? I'm afraid I've lost count. I'm only looking after you, big brother. Isn't that what family is for?”

Ignoring his younger sibling’s manicured nails grazing his scalp, he actually finds himself smirking, finding the idea ridiculous at best, and devious at worst.

“I appreciate the gesture, sibling, but given your propensity to bring sabotage to my personal affairs, I'm inclined to refuse. I have reason to believe this Mera will succeed where the others have failed.”

“Suit yourself,” his sibling shrugs. They pull away from him and begin to descend the stairs, but not before declaring, “You know that when this one proves faulty, my offer still stands. You need only call me.”

Dream’s only reply is taciturn. “I will keep that in mind.”

Flashing that large, crooked grin Dream has come to associate with the craftiness unique only to them, they wave playfully and say, “Till then, big brother.”

His realm would have to freeze over first before he lets them touch you.

***

He’s done for the day - and it was a long, exhausting day, too - so he comes home to you.

Morpheus knows you’d be waiting for him dutifully in his chambers - his dream, his only lover, splayed all over his bed on the softest silk sheets, your hair fanning the pillows, your eyes glazed over in desire - it’s a sight that only he gets the pleasure of seeing, and it makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

When he enters his room at last, he finds your silhouette hiding behind the curtains of his four-poster bed. You had heard him arrive, so you got out of bed just to meet him.

He finds his breath taken away by your beauty, as always.

You’re wearing a sheer ruby nightgown that cascaded just a little above your knees and nothing else underneath.

Just like he had instructed.

Dream makes his approach, never taking his eyes off your form. Once you’re but inches away from him, he grabs ahold of your body and immediately plants his lips on yours - engaged in passionate liplock, he could feel your hands travel beneath his coat before taking it off from him. He obliges, not wanting to deny you of anything, much less undressing him. He only pulls away to undo the ribbon, the only thing that holds your nightgown in place. The flimsy article of clothing falls to your feet, revealing your body - one he’s crafted with care, one he’ll never get enough of no matter how many times he takes it.

His eyes, after scanning your entire, naked form, bathed in the moonlight, land on the bulge on your belly. It’s small, but he sees it - he can feel the life you had formed with him four months past, swirling happily, safely tucked on your bosom. He lets his palm brush over your abdomen. As if recognising the touch of his father, his son’s energy spikes slightly, making you jolt a little in excitement - wide-eyed, you look up at him as you place your hand over his, wanting to share the experience. He could feel his own eyes glowing with so much emotion - you will be round with his child in no time, and who knows, maybe you will be again after this. He leans on the next being a girl - a princess, just like you in every manner, except maybe she’ll have his eyes, or his hair - he brushes the thought aside; he has an eternity with you to plan this out.

Hating to waste any more time, he gives a little nudge on your shoulder - a silent command for you to lie down for him. You offer no resistance, it seems: you happily get on the bed, your eyes glimmering coyly as you wait for him to climb on top of you. The fight in your soul has died down. Inwardly, he celebrates this victory.

Willing his own clothes into sand and disappearing completely, he descends on his ultimate prize: your body, now completely his and waiting for him to ravish over and over, like he does night after night, indulging in the pleasure only you could satisfy for him. Underneath him, you gaze up at him with so much reverence, so much love, and his heart sings in utter triumph. Just like that, all the work he had poured into you for more than a thousand years, bearing fruit right before him, and it’s all for him to bask in, to take.

This little dream of his is never getting away from him ever again.

******************************

Author notes on the Chapter:

I. AM. SCREAMING. !!!!

Did I just finish my first-ever fic? Yes. Is it long? Oh, yes. Did it take so much time out of me? Double yes. Did I have fun with it? Immensely. Will I write another? Absolutely.

But seriously, thank you for being with me this entire fic, this journey of mine in writing a fanfic for the very first time. It’s a ride I’ll never forget. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for following thus far! Look out for my next ones featuring the same, mopey, sopping-wet cat of a man (endless)!! ILY

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 3/23/23

Edit date: 3/23/23

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

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secondjulia · 1 year

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New Dreamling Vamp AU fic :)

Thy Fearful Symmetry

" His sister's presence, which had disappeared in the tavern — or else he had been utterly distracted from it by the man across the table — reappeared gently in the shadows behind Dream.

"I cannot do this," Dream said without turning.

"Dream…"

"It is so much worse!"

"You are just not accustomed—"

"What use does it serve?" he demanded, whirling on her. "Other than to frighten him with my hunger and this frail body? If I had… If I could just…" He was heaving for breath. He shut his eyes tight.

He was not strong enough. He had never been as strong as his older sister. And now he had failed, even with her guidance, and it was worse than ever. An hour ago, even weak as he was, Dream knew he could have taken a sip and been done. But now, nearly overcome, he knew that he would drink and drink and drink.... "

In order to maintain their physical forms, from time to time the Endless must drink the blood of those life forms they mirror. They have varying methods for — and feelings about — accomplishing this.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #neil gaiman #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #vampire au #dark!dream #I honestly dont know what Im doing #I reread Twilight at the exact wrong time and now everything is vampires #I seriously don't even like Twilight #I don't know what happened #The defense has no defense Your Honor #my fanfic

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daily-spooky · 12 days

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#dreams #funny #lol #haha #humor #meme #memes #dank memes #dark humor #goth #gothic #facts #adulthood

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roseforviolet · 24 days

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rahabq · 6 months

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#real #femcel #literally me #coquette #dark feminine energy #girlblog #girlblogger #girlblogging #girlhood #hell is a teenage girl #sofia coppola #the virgin suicides #lana del rey #female manipulator #girly #manic pixie dream girl #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #lizzy grant #sad girl vibes

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angelbabypearl · 1 month

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dreams-in-blk · 7 months

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the-watcher-in-the-sky · 5 months

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Congregation of the damned

Dream in ether

#dream in ether #horror #horror illustration #illustration #scary #creepy #macabre #eerie #spooky #terrifying #horror blog #dark illustration #dark #darkness #macabre art #creepy art #horror art #folk horror

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pinklavenderdoll · 6 months

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waywardsummoner46 · 1 year

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Eternity, Part Two

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x (?)Reader

Summary: “You killed her,” you whispered deliriously. His hand reached your face once more and in the blink of an eye your shivering body was held tightly against his warm, bare chest. Grains of sand swirled in the air around you; belatedly, you realised that you weren’t in the basement anymore. You didn’t have enough sense to even try and discern your surroundings.

A deep, soothing shush came from above you, the vibrations lining the side of your chest. “Rest now, my love. Our eternity shall begin once you wake.”

Soft lips pressed themselves against your forehead. For the first time in months, you didn’t dream of the man… you dreamt of a cage. And you were inside of it.

Word Count: 2774

Warnings: mind manipulation/control, possessive and obsessive behaviour, mental breakdown, suggestions of psychological torture, threat of bones collapsing, more to added with more chapters

A/N: I definitely got carried away with this one, I doubt you guys are complaining though. This does begin a tad on the shit side so sorry about that, it does get better though (I think). Thank you all for the overwhelming feedback on my other posts and I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

Smoke filled the house as naturally as any piece to a puzzle. Except, the absolutely vile stench of it burned your nostrils and forced you to squint as you made your way down the stairs, towards the heart of the fire.

Blythe’s screams of pure agony echoed along the long hallways and you struggled to navigate through the blanketed air. You could also hear Alex and Paul shouting indistinguishable things, presumably at Blythe to cease her screaming, but you couldn’t be sure.

Thoughts swam through your head; somehow the abruptness of the fire and the chance of it happening on your first night seemed too deliberate to be a coincidence. As though something had caused it… or someone. The dreams you’d been having were too vivid, too real, for you to sweep them under any metaphorical rug. Instead of them being a place where you retreated to, they became something you ran away from, having done for a while before you consciously became aware of their disturbance of your everyday life.

Before arriving at Fawny Rig but slightly after college, you and your friend Lia had bought an apartment together. Nothing special, after all what could two freshly graduated students possibly afford with even a shred of a decent standard of living? Regardless of your less-than-ideal circumstances, you’d both settled in quite nicely, always trying to make the most of what you had.

Oddly, there never seemed to be a cloudy day for either of you (the Great British Weather clearly differed from your moods, what could you expect?). It was just you and Lia… until it wasn’t.

Gradually at first, you began talking incoherently in your sleep - more common in people than most think. Then, some of your whispers become clear and with it only one word would be repeated: “Eternity”. Considering yourself to be a human with a broad vocabulary, you found it hilarious and perplexing that the only word that you’d ever say was that. Repetition was odd, you’d discovered in your research, for sleep talking. Though it wasn’t unheard of.

So neither of you dwelled on it for longer than necessary.

Once the sleepwalking started though? Not to mention your empty stares and murmurs of one thing, “Eternity”? Suddenly, your innocent nightly escapades turned into a medical concern.

Dark, purple bags began to form under your eyes. After the doctor’s had recommended sleeping pills to make your brain fall into too deep a sleep to actually talk or move at all, you refused to take them. For you personally, the extreme that required medical support hadn’t been reached; your brain was just obsessed with one word, no biggy. So as you refused to take your pills, you also refused to fall asleep because despite the situation not being too severe, your dreams were concerning enough to put you off genuine rest.

A man, always clad in the same dark robes, always with the same palm outstretched, had begun to affect your personal life. You’d be out and about, doing some shopping, when in your peripheral vision you glimpsed the image of the pale man.

Never did he threaten you. In your dreams, he cherished you. Offering you eternity.

His attention and affections in your subconscious made you crave it in the waking world. Lia didn’t understand your want for someone who didn’t exist outside of your conscience and whilst you two fell out over your obsessions, your dreams grew even more vivid. To the point where you could feel the warmth from his hand and the power that emanated from his very aura.

He was intense, to put it simply.

Like a sailor to a siren, he captivated you in ways you couldn’t explain. You were drowning in him. Funny that it was only now, as you fell over vases and expensive decorations that you were remembering all of this.

Another scream pierced the manor. After rearranging whatever ornaments you could find from the floor, you slowly manoeuvred through the maze-like corridors.

The shouting grew in volume, a small sigh of relief left your lips once you realised Paul and Alex had control of whatever had caused the fire.

Coughing, you were about to alert them to your presence when something… called for you. Not through sound but through feeling. It was magnetic and you were powerless to resist its pull.

Raising your head cautiously, you moved your head around to garner the exact direction of the force. Ominously, the door to the basement stood untouched by the infection of smoke permeating through Fawny Rig; it was a clear sign that that’s exactly where you needed to go.

Hesitation clashed with morbid curiosity in your mind. Realistically, you knew that if you did decide to venture into the abyss that was the basement, the Burgesses were only a call away so what was the risk? Rationally though, smoke didn’t make exceptions for a door of all things, nor were shrieks of torment to that extent a liable conclusion of a fire.

Swooping pulled you from your thoughts. Glancing up, you beheld the blasted raven from yesterday that had stolen the medication for your hand! Which had decided to flare up now of all times.

Staring at the raven perched upon the door something fierce, you raised an accusatory finger at it with narrowed eyes. “If I go down there, I’d better find my meds, you sack of shit. I haven’t forgotten what you did and I definitely haven’t forgiven you.”

Chuckling absurdly at how a bird is what motivates you to finally walk the path down to the basement, you close the door behind you, without looking back, and allow the raven onto your shoulder. It sat eerily still, like a grotesquely beautiful rendition of a taxidermied raven except it was still warm with a beating heart.

The contrast of the raven’s steady heartbeat served reassuring as your bare feet hit cold, uneven concrete.

The silence was deafening as your palms trailed down the wall and fence lining the stairs. Every little breath you took echoed through the grey, gloomy basement in a way that seemed… wrong.

Startling you, the raven squawked and flew off your shoulder in the direction of the centre of the area you’d just entered. There was a desk with two chairs, a lot of brainless magazines and newspapers were scattered over it but that was inconsequential compared to what, or rather who, sat before you.

A delicately crafted cage hung from the ceiling, the framework twisted so that glass was the predominant quality and, oh, if you weren’t frozen in shock you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the expert craftsmanship. Except… there, sat in the middle of the cage, completely naked… was the man from your dreams.

Vaguely registering the raven tapping its beak incessantly against the glass, you looked on with a hand covering your open mouth.

Were Alex and Paul aware that there was a literal person in their basement? They must’ve been, despite your short stay, you’d noticed that security guards of some sort had entered it as you walked in. Had they seriously been keeping him here, knowingly? And if so… for how long?

Considering how solemn and distant he seemed, you’d wager it had been a while. Also considering how, in your short moment of personal turmoil, his head of dark hair had raised and his piercing blue eyes were now staring directly at you.

Stumbling back at the realisation, you noticed how his expression was impassive to an extent where you couldn’t understand if his lack of surprise at seeing you there was typical… or expected. As in, he’d expected you to be there.

The longer you peered into his eyes, the more you knew this to be true. Although, how he knew was a different question.

Relentless sounds of impatience left the oddly behaving bird and, grateful for the excuse to tear your eyes away from his, you looked over at the bird. “What is the matter with you?” You questioned it incredulously, blushing shortly after your eyes met the man’s again. Not only had he seen you gaping like a fish, now he’d watched as you conversed with a bird. What kind of saviour you were, huh.

Turning back to the raven, you mustered up enough courage to begin walking towards the glass, trying valiantly to avoid the stranger’s heated gaze.

You retreated slightly into your mind, partially to cope with the traumatising events that you’d experienced all within twenty four hours and partially because you were a coward.

Somehow, you’d forgotten weeks, practically months, of obsessive behaviour over the man in your dreams and now out of the blue, he was sitting in a fucking cage in front of you. You just couldn’t wrap your head around how the very same man from your dreams was sitting right in front of you.

Without a doubt, something had fucked up neurologically for you; this was either and incredibly vivid dream (which would follow the pattern) or this was a hallucination, that warranted panic.

You vowed silently that once you left this hell hole you’d never come back and seek professional help, and actually abide by it this time.

The cool sensation of the uneven floor beneath your feet grew to an almost freezing chill. Every step you took seemed to echo in the chamber and reverberated strangely soothingly in your ears.

Even the raven’s obnoxious taptaptapping had slowed to a calming beat. Both sounds coexisted as naturally as life and death, which was funny, you realised with a confused laugh, because how could such things be so perfectly in-sync?

Gradually, the nearer you got, the higher your line of sight got. It continued to rise as an odd blue light began to glow from the cage; completely fascinated by it, you raised your head and greeted blurry eyes. This caused you to rub your own, understanding that your vision had become blurry during your short walk.

A distant yawn met your ears, and with a hazy sense you recognised it to be your own. The man tilted his head, a movement so miniscule you would’ve missed it had you not been paying incredible attention to him… to his eyes… his gorgeous, captivating… mesmerising, blue eyes…

Pressure added to your shoulder almost broke your attention but suddenly, inexplicably, the shadow man grew more intense, the dark voids of his pupils staring into your very soul.

Something tugged in the back of your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what it was yet considering how it seemed to resist the utter serenity that had washed over you like waves on a beach, you ultimately chose to ignore it. Bury it, deep deep down.

A small quirk of his lips told you that he was pleased; you’d pleased him! How happy that made you! So happy that it made you fall to your knees. So happy that your hand crept towards the strange gold marks that surrounded his cage.

At the reminder of the cage, you frowned. That was no place for a man, a being, such as himself to reside in… for eternity. Oh, eternity! Why did that seem so familiar?

The raven on your shoulder nuzzled its head into your cheek, your frown slightly lessening at its cuteness. When the nuzzling turned more than innocent, you indicated rather lethargically for it to explain what it wanted to do. Majestically, it glided off of your shoulder and to the floor just before you and it encouraged you to rest your palm on its offered wing.

Reaching out a hand, you noticed with startling clarity that it was trembling. Then all at once, you stumbled back far away from the cage and looked fearfully up at the man. Having recently sat up, he looked down his nose at you with a look of definite displeasure and something akin to rage donning his features.

The voice you’d buried had fought its way to the surface and won in a moment of all encompassing lucidity that everything was wrong, and that he was the root of it all.

“What… are you?”

The blue glow returned and grew with intensity. You almost, so very nearly, got absorbed in its magnificence but with blood stemming from your clenched hands you resisted its ethereal pull.

Helpless tears flowed down your face - you were desperate, no other word for it.

Just as you were about to plead with him again, a different voice cut across the beginnings of a breeze. “Step away from the cage, (Y/N). No one has to get hurt.”

It was Blythe. Relief crashed down upon you and you breathed her name in relief. Slowly though, her words registered and you looked at her, perplexed.

“Why would anyone get hurt?” You questioned, and then your gaze travelled downwards. “Blythe, why do you have a gun? Where did you even get that? Put it down!”

Your words seemed to enter one ear and go out the other. Blythe was looking everywhere apart from you and as she approached you she raised the gun at the cage. “Blythe, please put the gun down. That’s not the way to do this,” you pleaded with her but again, she ignored you.

She stared directly at him. Unflinching, unfeeling, wholly numb in the face of something you suspected was more than human. Knowing you’d regret it, you walked up to her, back to the cage, and went to beg her more sincerely but you reared back as you observed her. Every inch of her pupils, her irises and even the whites of her eyes had been entirely consumed by a galactical exterior. Stars dotted and swam inside of her sight and it was difficult to tell if she could genuinely see like that.

“Your eyes…”

“They’re beautiful,” her head clicked grotesquely as she turned mechanically towards you. “A pity yours aren’t the same. Would you like them to be?” She asked darkly. As mechanically as before, her line of sight returned to the man in the cage. An insane smile crossed her lips. “He wants them to be.”

She shot the glass; the blue luminescence shone through the jagged cracks like some sort of morbid stencil. She shot once more; larger portions of the light shone through and a creeping sense of drowsiness fluttered about yourself. On her third and final shot, you tackled her to the ground… except you weren’t quick enough.

As mighty as a tsunami, the glass shattered across the room and the light crowded the basement in abundance, every single nook and cranny was utterly dominated by its sheer radiance.

Including you.

Fluidly, he manoeuvred himself out of the cage as easily as water. His intimidating beauty became almost unbearable without the glass as a barrier between you. Through heavy eyelids, you watched languidly as he moved towards you and as he lowered his hand to caress your face, you were powerless to resist.

Had you been working at full capacity, you would have registered his longing whisper and the tremor in his hand. Alas, your poor soul refused to obey your brain.

“Come here.” Sweet nothings and deadly promises seemed to be personified in his voice; pure heaven was the only way to describe it. Once you’d had a few seconds to scramble some coherent thought, your brows furrowed in confusion. What did he mean? You were right there!

Footsteps echoed in the distance, realistically, however, they were less than a metre away from your collapsed form.

“Do you understand your duty?” Hairs raised on the back of your neck at his deadly tone. He must’ve been addressing Blythe, no one else had entered the room as far as you were aware.

The hand left your face and you cried out at the loss. “Then, you are aware that you are relieved of it.”

A sickening crack, the thud of something heavy, and the sickening scent of blood.

“You killed her,” you whispered deliriously.

His hand reached your face once more and in the blink of an eye your shivering body was held tightly against his warm, bare chest. Grains of sand swirled in the air around you; belatedly, you realised that you weren’t in the basement anymore. You didn’t have enough sense to even try and discern your surroundings.

A deep, soothing shush came from above you, the vibrations lining the side of your chest. “Rest now, my love. Our eternity shall begin once you wake.”

Soft lips pressed themselves against your forehead. For the first time in months, you didn’t dream of the man… you dreamt of a cage. And you were inside of it.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)~

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#dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dark!dream #dark!dream x reader #dream of the endless #Dark!Morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader

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The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 17

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

breakup closure angst??

reader is a walking ball of angst at this point lol

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 17: Lost and Found, and Lost Again

“Wha - wait, why?” you scrunch up your face, thoroughly bewildered by his abrupt declaration. What the fuck is his problem?

“Are you questioning my judgement, little dream?” Your Dream Lord takes a threatening step closer to you, intending to cow you into obedience.

But, for what reason? “I have not done anything to warrant this rather harsh decision, my Lord,” you counter, softening your voice to try and pacify his anger, as misplaced as it is. “Besides, you haven’t found any issue with me going back until now.”

At his full height, he stares down at you with cold, hard eyes, and you wonder just how such beauty could contain so much cruelty. You gaze into the galaxies it withholds, but find nothing but a black hole staring back at you.

“I did,” he responds after a long pause. “I just chose to let you, seeing how sorely you missed it.”

“You have not given me your reason, Lord Morpheus. I think I deserve to know what reason you have to take away my only joy,” you continue to pry, your voice breaking at last along with the tears that now flow freely down your cheeks.

But he has no sympathy for you - instead, he curls his lips ever-so-slightly in disapproval. “I am quite disappointed you’d consider the dreams to be your only source of happiness, all while our child grows within your womb.”

Amidst your tears, a huff escapes your lips as you bristle at his undertone. He isn’t even born yet, and he’s now being used against you for reasons still unknown to you.

“What exactly are you implying, my Lord?” you ask softly as you take a step away from him.

Not to be undeterred by the tears streaming down your cheeks, he reaches out to you, presumably to touch your face, but you turn away, so with a deflated expression, he purses his lips and withdraws his hands. “I only mean that your efforts are best concentrated on caring for yourself and our son,” he clarifies.

Mumbling to yourself, you say bitterly, “I’ve been doing that for two months, my Lord, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Enough,” he admonishes with a firm tone. “We will no longer argue about this. You will stay in the palace until our son is born.”

He pins you to your spot with his dark gaze, a look that you know so well: obey or there will be consequences. You wilt inwardly on instinct and say nothing, even though you remain unsatisfied with his cryptic reasoning. He goes on to elaborate further:

“As for my sister, pay her words no mind. Delirium has seen to the downfall of many, and she could lead you to somewhere I cannot protect you.”

Taking your cheek with his palm, he makes you look into his eyes, ones that seem to scan for any hint of defiance. “I will not allow any harm befall my child and his mother.”

What’s next, locking you up in his room?

Despite your inner protests, you nod meekly. The moment your Lord lets go of you, you give him a wide berth, and he gratefully doesn’t follow, but you could tell how displeased he is with the distance you placed between you both.

With a final glance at your form, he leaves in a swirl of sand. As soon as he vanishes, a sudden bout of nausea hits you, so you scramble to the toilet and empty the entire contents of your stomach. It takes you a while, but you rush to the door of your shared room once it stops only to find it locked from the outside, as you had suspected all along.

***

“M’lady, you’ve really got to eat. You barely touched your soup.”

Morwyn had just entered the Dream King’s quarters, where you had spent almost five days cloistered in. You had neither the energy nor the drive to step out and roam the palace grounds; you didn’t even know if you were allowed to. All you could worry about were your dreamers and the work that you had no choice but to leave behind - if your Lord knew your mind was preoccupied with them, he’d chastise you about caring more about them than your own son, just like he had insinuated.

You’ve been seeing more of him for the past few days, and when you’re both alone together, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, so he’d either cuddle you, with his possessive hands over your belly, or fuck your brains out and leave reluctantly to attend to his duties. It’s a routine you’ve grown to hate because even when he left, you could still feel every part of him on you, as if your unborn son isn’t enough of a reminder of the bed you’re forced to share with him.

And then, there’s what Lady Delirium said just before the Dream Lord barged in.

What had she meant to say when she found something you ‘lost?’ And why had your King taken such offence to it?

“Princess Mera? M’lady?”

Morwyn’s concerned voice thankfully digs you out of a hole you didn’t want to be stuck in, and from looking forlornly out to the view that the balcony offered, you turn to face her.

“Sorry, Morwyn, you were saying?”

Hovering over the table where your now-cold soup lay untouched, she gives you a shy smile and points at it. “Maybe I can get you something else instead? He has to eat too, you know…”

Ah, yes. While you don’t have the appetite to eat, the little one inside you depends on you for everything, and he’ll do so for a while. You wish he’d hurry up though - frankly you could do away with the random bouts of dizziness, bizarre food cravings and annoying backaches.

“Maybe I could get you some chocolate-covered pretzels or cinnamon buns? I remember you liked cinnamon,” Morwyn suggests.

“Nah, I can’t stand cinnamon now, and chocolate tastes metallic to me. Maybe something healthy, like a chicken salad?” you say, hugging a pillow, before adding, “And caramel bars.”

“Not sure the last one’s healthy, but okay, I’ll be back with them!”

Morwyn leaves you half-heartedly wondering where she gets all that energy from as you smile gratefully and lie down on the loveseat. Eventually, she comes back with a tray full of food, so you try to eat as much as your body can hold down. You thank her for the food and for being patient with you before she leaves you alone once more, lying moodily on the couch. Maybe you could drop by the library later and catch up on your dreamers once your back decides to let up.

Any thoughts you have of getting out of the room vanish as soon as the Dream King arrives, transporting himself inside using his sand instead of using his door, as is his usual fashion. You get up to greet him out of habitual politeness, but in doing so, you wince at the dull pain the action causes.

This doesn’t escape his notice, it seems, for he immediately makes his approach.

“Does your back ache, my dream?” he asks, his eyes laden with concern.

You could only nod, intending to trudge slowly to the bed and bury yourself in pillows and blankets, but he has other ideas. Gently, he carries you instead and lays you down on the sheets.

“Lie on your stomach, my little dream,” comes his soft command, and you do, having a vague idea of what he’s up to. True enough, he gets on the bed as well, mounting your hips, and, brushing your hair aside, he untangles the ribbons of your dress to reveal your back. With expert hands, he starts kneading the tense muscles on your shoulders, and you groan out of relief as his thumbs put pressure on the knotted muscles on your shoulder blades.

How many beings in the universe could say they had been given a back rub by the King of Dreams himself, you wonder, sighing as his hands slowly work their way down your spine to your lower back. You could feel the heat emanating from his body as he moves closer, and his breath fans the back of your neck before softly caressing your skin with his lips and giving you goosebumps in the process. He applies pressure on the muscles on your waist before halting his movements altogether. Feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your back, you sigh once more, wanting nothing but to drift off to deep sleep.

“Thank you, Lord Morpheus,” you murmur.

You inhale sharply as his hand hikes your dress up and dips between your thighs, massaging your inner folds. Making a tiny noise of complaint, you squirm underneath him as he rubs against your clit and makes you wet, not feeling up to having your back blown right after he’d massaged it so tenderly.

He must’ve felt you tense up again, for he whispers against your back, “Sshh, my dream, relax, I will make you feel better.”

In a split second, your dress disappears, and your underwear soon follows. His tongue laps up the exposed skin on your back, his teeth grazing and nipping, while his hands part your lower cheeks. In one swift motion, he lodges his rock-hard cock inside your core, and you whimper at its suddenness, while he groans in pure bliss from above you. He settles for a languid pace as pulls out and pushes his entire length back in as if careful not to strain you further. His lips pull away, having done their job marking your back with welts, and you feel him prop himself up at an angle that keeps rubbing over your sweet spot and at the same time avoids putting pressure on your lower back muscles. You grip the pillow tight as you bite back your whimpers, but when he resumes rubbing the muscles on your waist and your spine, you start moaning with abandon and let your body relax completely in his grip, giving in to the pleasure he provides. He builds up the pressure unhurriedly inside your core while the pads of his palm knead your back muscles carefully, so when the pressure finally bursts, you lay there, limply, as he continues pumping into you, drawing your climax out in that sensual, controlled pace of his choosing. His pace only falters and quickens slightly when he comes close; he takes you with him as he climaxes and sends his hot seed coursing through your core and coating your inner walls, some of it leaking out when he pulls out of you.

Your Dream Lord lies beside you, already clothed, as you catch your breath, with him kindly making your dress reappear, its ribbons already laced behind your back. He dons a soft expression as he stares wordlessly at your face, caressing your cheek lazily with a finger. You couldn’t move an inch, not after being drained of energy like the only way he does. After a few moments, he leans down to kiss you, tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue and demanding entrance, while his hand not-so-subtly traces your arched back all the way to your ass -

“Hey boss! Your majesty, I - Ack!”

Matthew comes darting into the chamber from the balcony and in what must’ve been a romantic scene in his eyes, with you draped on the Dream King’s bed and him hovering over you, kissing you with a softness only you get to see. Your Lord reluctantly pulls away, and you pull the blankets over you in haste and embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable situation - and by no less than his raven!

“Matthew,” you hear him address his minder. “Is something the matter?”

“So very sorry to uh, interrupt you and the princess and all, but there’s this huge, huge, crazy bird running amok right now, in the forest and it’s breathing fire!” comes his frantic reply, ruffling his feathers in agitation. “Apparently, that giant bird can breathe water too, it’s just flooded the entire town square! I didn’t know who else to get, sir.”

Curiously peeking from underneath the blankets, you see Matthew perched on the back of the loveseat while your Lord puts on his cloak.

“Hi there, princess!” Matthew greets you with a winged salute. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but this bird -”

“It’s not just a bird, Matthew, it’s called an Anzû, judging by your description. You were right to call my attention.” the Dream Lord corrects him before making his way to you, planting a quick kiss on your crown. “I shall see to it, my dream.”

Nodding at him, you ask, “Can I be at the library, Lord Morpheus?”

“Of course,” he responds with a light caress of his fingers on your cheek. “I will come to fetch you after the Anzû is dealt with.”

“Uh, guys, I know you can’t keep your hands off each other, but, whatever-it’s-called, it’s destroying the village, you know, ve-eeery urgent?”

The Dream Lord just raises a mildly amused eyebrow at the raven’s reaction, and questions him, “Where is it at the moment?”

“Last I checked, sir, it’s just started setting the forest on fire, in the trees near the House of Mystery and the House of Secrets.”

“Let us meet there, then,” the King says simply, the sand from his leather pouch engulfing his cloaked form before disappearing entirely.

Matthew, flapping his wings, sighs and mutters to himself, “He could’ve just brought me along with his sand, but no-oo…”

With a farewell to you, he flies off the balcony to follow his boss.

But you aren’t left alone for long. Just as Matthew has left the chambers, one of the double doors cracks open, revealing Morwyn, looking around the room cautiously before beckoning someone you couldn’t see inside. To your surprise, a young woman with colourful hair peeks from the opening, before pushing them wider with a loud ‘weeee!’, and you jump out of bed instantly just in time for her to give you a hug that leaves you momentarily breathless.

“It worked! I distracted him!” Lady Delirium squeals in delight when she releases you. “ I think he’ll be away for quite a long time, but not that long, a long time is about a hundred years, or more. We have to hurry, though, that thingy I did on the Anzû might not last that long.”

“Lady Del,” you greet her before curiously asking, “Wait, you set the Anzû loose? What for?”

“So we could go find what you’ve lost,” she just says cryptically, as she drags you to the door.

Going along with her, you tell her, “Lady Del, I’m not allowed in the dreams anymore.”

“I know!” she replies with excitement. “That’s what the distraction is for.”

Morwyn chimes in, keeping up with your pace, “I can hold down the fort, m’lady, I can tell the Dream Lord you went out for a walk just in case he comes back early. Take care!”

“Thank you, Morwyn!” you shout after her as she pulls back and waves after you, and, still holding on to Lady Del’s hand, you let her take you to a detour leading to the sea of dreams, where you waste no time diving in, clueless as to where she’ll bring you. As the waters take you where you ought to be, your hand inadvertently lets go of Lady Del’s due to its force, and you land, alone, on a patch of dying grass.

“Fancy seeing you here, princess.”

You raise your eyebrow at the Corinthian who’s grinning ear to ear as you straighten your dress. Your eyes sweep the territory you landed on for any sign of the Endless that brought you here, but you find her nowhere.

You seem to have landed on a garden, or at least, what was once a garden. The plants look like they have not seen a drop of water in weeks and have been left to wilt away and dry up. But as you survey the dream you landed on, you couldn’t shake off the peculiar feeling that the place is familiar.

“This garden used to be so lively,” you find yourself saying.

Too familiar.

“Oh, you think?” your friend just snorts.

You look behind him, where a modern-brutalist building stands. It’s a house, you conclude, and it seems to be beckoning you inside, so you brush past your friend, caught in a trance you couldn’t break away from, intending to enter the abode.

“I don’t think you want to go inside, princess.”

You let the Corinthian’s warning go unheeded. Pushing the doors open, you cross the foyer and reach what looks like a previously well-maintained living room now lying in total ruins: upturned, upholstered couches with their leather peeling off all over, a glass coffee table, smashed, its glass shards scattered all over the threadbare carpet, science magazines, ripped from the spine, the crumpled pages littering the sorry scene.

A few feet from the living room is a doorway which leads to the kitchen, where you could hear scuffling. How you know it’s where the kitchen is, you have no idea, but you walk to it anyway, and why is your heart beating so fast? Why would you dread anything from this dilapidated excuse for a house?

“That’s not a good idea, princess. Back away, when you still can.”

But, the Corinthian’s voice comes out as muffled - all you could hear is rhythmic gasping and soft moaning, and like a moth to a flame, to walk to the sound, completely entranced, blood pounding in your ears.

You barely make it through the doorway when you see a tall fellow plastered to the wall, his hair too grey for his age, his eyes closed and mouth wide open and moaning in pleasure, and a woman - a nightmare, disguised as a woman - on his knees, sucking him off, both of them oblivious to your presence. Frozen to your spot, you stand transfixed at the sight, not taking your eyes off the male and feeling your heart being squeezed tight.

“So I guess you’ve met Sumnio.”

Again, your friend’s voice is ignored, and you clutch your heart, gasping for air and collapsing against his chest. Strong arms anchor yours to keep you steady, but, already feeling light-headed, you cling to his shirt with trembling hands and, leaning onto him, you scream.

It’s visceral, painful, echoing in the dream-space, and your friend drags you away from the scene and back to the garden, where he cradles you awkwardly, both of you kneeling on the drying blades of grass, and you remember everything: every memory of that man’s face, grinning coyly, smiling warmly, his soft, forest green eyes blazing with so much passion you had helped inspire…

And they hurt. Every stolen moment with him, the longing stares, and the chaste kisses - just remembering them is agony, and you cry out against your friend’s chest, mourning for what fate had so cruelly stolen from you.

“I know him,” your say amidst your sobbing, and you feel the Corinthian’s hand patting you softly on the head.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” comes his simple reply.

Oliver Chapman.

You start hiccuping, and your poor nightmare friend lets you go so he could hand you a glass of water he materialises. You accept it and drink from it, but you continue bawling as you set the glass down, water spilling all over the grass and your dress, the gravity of his presence in the dream hitting you just as hard as the memories did.

They’re here to torment him. Your poor Ollie.

Gulping for air, you let out, “Y-you’re h-hurting him! H-he’s hurting my O-ollie…”

Cursing under his breath, the Corinthian grabs your shoulder and shakes you violently.

“Pull yourself together, princess, there’s no use crying over this shit,” he chides through his gritted teeth. He lets out an agitated sigh, but he releases you. He takes out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and hands it over, and with a shaking hand you take it, your fist balling into it as you stare at a patch of grass, trying to breathe evenly and choking back your tears.

“There’s no easy way to say this, princess, but your boyfriend sentenced your ex to a lifetime of misery,” he divulges, sitting cross-legged on the grass facing you. “When he lost his memories of you, he tried to fill in that little hole you left in his heart or whatever, but Sumnio was sent here by Dream to make him doubt every single one of his lovers. He’s never going to settle at this rate.”

In an attempt to soothe the excruciating pain in your heart, your palm rubs against your chest, trying to breathe through your mouth as fresh, silent tears cascade down your cheeks, staining your dress further. He lets you process his words in silence.

“I’m going to fix this,” you declare all of a sudden, surprising even yourself.

“How, exactly?” your friend asks as he absentmindedly picks on the brittle blades of grass.

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know,” you whisper, sniffling and wiping away the tears using the crumpled hanky he gave you. “But I can’t let him live like this, Cori. He’s not a threat anymore, so why make him suffer?”

Clicking his tongue, he mutters, “You know he doesn’t see it that way, princess.” He gets on his feet with a grunt and offers you a hand, which you gratefully accept. “You better clean that up, he’s gonna find out.”

“You're not going to tell him, are you?”

“I’d rather stay out of it, thank you very much.”

You offer him a wet, grateful smile, mouthing ‘thank you,’ and his only response is a shake of his head in exasperation.

“I can distract him for a day, at most,” he adds, tilting his head in the house’s direction.

Ah, yes. Sumnio. What a shame you had to meet him that way, if only in passing.

“I can shut him up, too,” he continues, smirking playfully. “He’s gonna moan a little, but I can do the job.”

You couldn’t help the small snort of laughter that escapes you. “Thanks for the mental image,” you remark dryly. “I have to go back. Whatever Lady Del did to distract him may have already passed.”

“I told you she’s trouble. Anyway, let me know when. You owe me big time.”

Rolling your eyes a little, with a small smile still on your face, you jest, “Yes, how can I ever repay you?”

But you flash him a look, letting him know you actually mean it. Your friend, as is his usual, just gives you a mock salute as you exit the dream, indicating that perhaps, he understood what you had meant to say.

***

“M’lady, I’ve got the key,” Morwyn says in a hushed tone as she sets down your bowl of cornflakes. Discreetly, she places the key in question, and you mutter your ‘thanks’ to her, before nothing short of inhaling your cereal. Your Dream Lord had just left for his duties, so time is of the essence. Cori’s right: grieving over Ollie isn’t going to help.

If you want to put him right that badly, you need to do your research.

You were reluctant at first in enlisting Morwyn for help, but she has proven to be loyal to you so far, so you decide to place your trust in her and ask her to obtain the key to the Dream Lord’s office from an unsuspecting Merv. It had to be you who’ll get the books though, refusing to put her in more trouble than she already is.

Sneaking into the library past Lucienne was easy, seeing as she’s swamped with records that need filing from yesterday’s Anzû’s attack (thank goodness for Lady Del). You get Ollie’s book in less than three minutes, and while you had nowhere to hide the bulky tome, you decide to worry about that bit later, and, after you give the key back to your co-conspirator, you barricade yourself in your old room and begin with studying how bad the damage was, and how much effort it’ll take to undo all of it.

***

Clinging to the toilet for dear life, you heave the last bits of soggy cornflakes out from your gut. This time, it isn’t just brought about by the sickness of being slightly heavy with child.

It was out of pure repulsion at what you had just finished reading from Ollie’s books. It was nothing short of abominable on his part, being forced to endure five horrendous breakups with women that seemed to genuinely like him, and then making him relapse on sleeping pills for something he could no longer remember - all for your Dream Lord’s depraved entertainment.

And the worst part is that it was partly your fault.

But you had to quash that guilt within you at the moment, seeing as it wouldn’t help with your cause. You had a faint idea what to do with Ollie’s dreams, and no clue whether it was going to last, but you had to try, at least.

Having hidden the book in one of the toilet cupboards in your room, you proceed to your shared bedroom with your King and pretend as if you had not just found out about one of the dirty little secrets he’s been keeping from you. It takes you all of your willpower not to be sick out of disgust after he fucks on his bed for hours on end, and as you both finish, you had only one thing in mind:

That you’ll get Ollie’s life back for him and perhaps say one, final, proper goodbye.

***

Your little panic attack at Ollie’s kitchen doorway was bad, but being confronted with happy memories you had spent in Ollie’s dreams in this modern-brutalist study is so much worse, you discover.

Here you are, hunched over on the carpet you remember almost ruining with your own blood, except it this time, it wasn’t a puncture wound that’s making you double over in pain - it’s that dull, stabbing ache in your heart at having to recall all those moments with him again and again, moments he can’t even recall, and as they come running through your head, so do the tears.

Maybe if you had been unmade instead, you wouldn’t have had to suffer with this as much.

The study you had spent countless hours working in had been trashed - a mirror of Ollie’s deteriorating mental state. It’s worse than the living room downstairs: his bookshelves, one you remember fondly with the books arranged oddly by colour, upturned, its contents reduced to nothing but ripped, empty pages; his computer screen cracked beyond repair; the L-shaped sofas with ripped covers and exposed foam - everything you loved about the place, including its owner, falling apart, and you’re the only chance he has.

But then, you hear footsteps approaching, so you quickly wipe your tears away with your palm and finally face the dreamer you’ve come to help.

Ollie, with his greying hair and green eyes, his soiled pyjamas and his unshaven beard. He seems to be having such a rough time, it hurt you to see him like this.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he notes with narrowed, suspicious eyes, just like the first time you met.

You flash him a wan smile. “No, I’m not.”

“Huh.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, as is his habit whenever he gets nervous. “Are you, by any chance, someone I slept with within these past months?”

“No,” you reply before letting out a dry chuckle. “But you came very close.”

“A damn shame I didn’t then,” he quips lightly and grins suggestively. “You don’t look so bad.”

Says the man with unwashed hair and soiled pyjamas. “Glad to hear your sense of humour’s still intact. How’s MiraSleep doing?”

“Not bad, too. I’m set for life because of it.”

But the emptiness in his voice does not escape you.

“Shouldn’t you be happy, if that’s the case?” you tilt your head and ask.

“Wouldn’t that be the dream?” he says under his breath.

Eager to press him for details, you continue, “Why? What’s going on?”

He shakes his head as he paces at the study. “Nothing much, except I just ruined what could’ve been something great. Especially the last one. I fucked it up. For someone with all this money, you’d think I’d have it all figured out.”

Peering curiously into his eyes, you inquire, “Is it Charmaine?”

“How’d you know?” he asks with a puzzled look.

“I’m a dream. It’s my job.”

With a heavy sigh, he nods in resignation. “Charmaine. I liked her, too. I liked her a lot.”

With a shrug, you advise him, “Then tell her. Say ‘sorry, I fucked up. I love you.’ Can’t be that hard, can it?”

Ollie just snorts in response. “Think it’s that easy?”

“You’d be surprised how much stuff you’d let slide because you love them.”

“You think she loves me?”

“I think,” you say, taking a few strides closer to him, “That’s up for you to find out.”

Clasping your hands together, you stare into his eyes, concentrating all your dreaming-abilities, all the hurt, the longing, everything you had, into your palm. For a few moments, you close your eyes, letting the entire dream-space absorb you, and when you open them, a dreamcatcher, not unlike the one your Dream Lord destroyed, appears in your palm, pristine, almost glowing with all the power you had endowed it.

“Holy shit,” Ollie curses under his breath in awe, looking around in his study: you had restored it, and everything else in his dream-space, and it took everything in you. Trying not to wobble on your feet, you grab his hands and place the dreamcatcher in his grasp.

“You know, it’s funny, I had one just like this before. I probably lost it - are you okay? You look pale,” he observes, worry etched all over his face.

Brushing it aside, you gesture at the dreamcatcher. “Look at that. Keep that safe. Every time you find yourself doubting Charmaine’s, or anyone else’s love, just take a look at that dreamcatcher, and it’ll wash away all that doubt in your heart,” you explain, your voice breaking a little at all the emotion you’re trying to contain.

“What if it comes back?” he asks, toying with the dreamcatcher’s strings.

“Frankly, the nightmare working on your dreams needs to up his game. It’ll work.”

This earns you a befuddled look from him, but you just wave it away.

“That dreamcatcher will remind you to always choose happiness. Be happy, Ollie. That’s all I ever wanted, really.”

And then you see it: that warm smile he’s always had for you, his forest green eyes lighting up exactly the way you remember.

“Are you sure we’ve never met before?”

“Quite.”

“Will I see you again?”

You smile sadly and simply shake your head. Unable to hold your tears back any longer, you turn away from him so he doesn’t see them. You had not realised just how much you have to hold back; how much you wanted to hold him and kiss him and how much you wished it was his child you carried instead.

But, it isn’t fated. Not in this lifetime. Maybe not even in the next. So instead, you settle with:

“Goodbye, Ollie.”

You couldn’t stay there anymore. Without looking back, you will yourself back into the sea of dreams, vaguely tasting the salt both from your tears and the waters.

***

Significantly weakened from repairing Ollie’s dream-space and conjuring that protective charm for him, you trudge dejectedly from the shores to your old room in the palace, making a beeline to the cupboard where you had hidden his book of dreams.

You trace the cover ever-so-gently with your fingers, afraid to lose the only thing you have left of him.

You had not allowed yourself to grieve your loss because you had a job to do. But, now that you’ve completed the quest, you hug the book, and mourn.

You had not expected to still love him after all that happened, and yet, you pushed him to take a lover so he could finally be happy.

You did a good thing, you keep repeating in your head over and over. But how could such a good thing hurt so fucking much?

Crawling to your old bed, you curl up in a ball, still holding Ollie’s book of dreams close to your heart. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it doesn’t take much sobbing into the pillow before sweet unconsciousness embraces you to its comforting bosom, making you forget the pain if only for a few hours.

***

A little later, elsewhere in the castle, a frantic Endless is close to tearing down the palace walls in search of you: his precious little dream, his only lover and the mother of his unborn child, is missing, and he’s looked everywhere for you, causing quite a stir among the staff. They’re careful, as always, to avoid his wrathful stare, especially when it comes to matters concerning you. They’re secretly grateful when your attendant arrives to break the tension, and the news, that you’re in your old chamber, fast asleep, perhaps exhausted, Morwyn adds. He wastes no time transporting himself to the chambers he crafted especially for you, and as soon as his silver, galaxy-laden eyes land on your curled-up form, his visage visibly softens. He is careful not to wake you as he approaches to tenderly caress your cheeks, and, hovering over you, he places a gentle kiss on your hair, taking notice of the book you’re cradling in your arms.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Aghhhkk will he see the book?!!

Now, about that back rub...

We have about three or four chapters remaining, folks!!

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 2/12/23

Edit date: 2/12/23

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