#Dream of the Endless x You

[ofsappho]

Treehouse chapter 34 teaserrrrr

Your head hurts so much less when your eyes are closed to the Lovecraftian chaos in your surroundings. It’s second nature to bury your face into his shirt and let the soothing rhythm of Morpheus’s heartbeat distract you. “Come on,” He urges you, taking a few steps to some unknown destination without deigning to inform you where.

Despite the kindness in his voice and the softness of his shirt against your cheek, more comforting than any blanket on your great bed, you push back. “No.” Your feet stay where they are. Morpheus would not drag you somewhere. It would be undignified.

After a few seconds pass, Morpheus seems to come to the conclusion you had already decided; that you will not go. “Wait- stop-“ In a single, effortless motion, he sweeps you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing.

You open your eyes to see his victorious smirk and narrowed, catlike eyes. “It’s for your own good, little darling. Or would you prefer I put you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” It would be even less dignified for you to be treated so and Dream knows you’d refuse it.

He continues on with no further resistance from you. His lengthy stride carries the two of you farther in a minute than your legs could in an hour and your surroundings fade into a blur, like paint dripped into a bowl of water.

Morpheus doesn’t have to say anything for you to feel the stymied laughter moving his chest. “Stop gloating.” You poke him once, twice, three times. No reaction.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are.” Your legs kick gently in the air to make your point.

Morpheus sighs under his breath and mumbles something that sounds like he’s calling you ‘impossible’. As you’re very mature, perhaps the most mature person here, you decline to respond.

(Where are we going??? And what are we gonna do when we get there??? 🤭🤭🤭🌶️🌶️🌶️)

[writethrough]

Can I request a morpheus x reader where his s/o has curly/wavy hair? Or just reader being obsessed with touching his hair and he absolutely love it and he likes to do the same

Mid-Afternoon Dream

(Morpheus x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 430

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me! I went with the second half of your idea since I like to try and keep Reader as up-to-interpretation as possible. I hope you enjoy!

You were lying on your couch, music playing softly from your record player. Spring was slowly shifting into summer, enough that you had opened your windows to feel the breeze drift through your home. 

The early afternoon rays filtered in, and everything seemed brighter and newer in that way only the warm weather brought. For this moment, everything was peaceful. 

Even Morpheus couldn’t find fault in it. Not when his head rested on your chest, and you were carding through his hair to the base of his neck. Your nails gently dragging down his scalp to the ends of his strands would’ve made him shiver if he were human. 

You’ve been like this for some time now, relaxing in each other's arms. It was a rare moment for the Dream King. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this content. Though, it’d been happening more frequently since he’d met you. 

When he’s working, his mind often wondered to you, what you were doing, when he would see you, it’d become ever the distraction—be it a welcomed one. 

He hummed as your nails traced his neck, and you giggled lightly. He squeezed your side in return. 

Never had he thought he’d let anyone see him like this, not after all those years in that cage. But there was something in you that called him. He could let his guard down around you. And it was easier than he thought. 

You opened your arms to him and all he had to do was step closer. 

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Have I put the Sandman to sleep?” you teased. 

He answered with his eyes closed. “You are the only creature capable of such a feat.” 

“You deserve some rest.” He could hear your smile, but there was seriousness, too. It made him lift to his elbow to look at you. 

You stared at one another a few moments until you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Your thumb grazed his skin reverently, seemingly amazed that he was before you now. 

The corner of your lips ticked up as you took him in. This otherworldly being that wasn’t really a being at all. He was too perfect. It only made sense that he was a concept, one that provided all with the ability to escape, to wrap themselves in imagination, to set themselves free. 

“My Dream,” you whispered, almost like you hadn’t meant to. 

His eyes softened. His own hand reached up to caress your hair. 

“My heart.” 

Tags: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @tronnily, @commanderfreethatdust

Let me know if you want to be added to the list!

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives || ★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader+charles rowland x edwin payne PARTS: 8/? WARNINGS: angst, slowburn, vivid depictions of gore, blood, violence, mentions of sex

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

AO3

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

[marvelsgirl616]

*(s)creaming rn*

[lis-likes-fics]

Dream a Little Dream

Pairings: Dream of the Endless x wife!Reader Word Count: 1.9k words Kink: Sleep/Morning Sex Warnings: NSFW, so vanilla, fingering, p in v, so many pet names you'll explode, nothing else really... A/N: I am already....so behind. The next few prompts may end up being really short like this one, as I have nothing prepared as of now. So I'll either write short stuff for a while or hold off on posting for a day or two until I can catch up again. Sorry, guys. Thanks!

The groggy pull of waking sticks to your skin like sap. You pull your heavy eyelids open and moan lazily as you bring your hand to rest upon the one heavy on your side. You intertwine your hand with pale fingers, moving closer to the being already holding you close as the flutter haze of the morning soaks into you.

With a lazy murmur, the deep voice of your husband fills your ears. "Good morning, my darling." His words glue together like licorice that had been melded in the heat.

"Good morning," you mumble.

Morpheus shifts forward until his entire body is pressed flat against yours. You feel the tip of his nose brush against the back of your shoulder, and his lips follow as he presses them into your skin. "How are you?"

You take in a long, deep breath, shutting your eyes again on a hum. "Sleepy." He chuckles lightly. "But I had a wonderful dream."

Morpheus smiles slowly. "My love, this is a dream."

You hum again, amused as you chuckle a little as well. "Well, then, I had a wonderful evening."

Visions of the evening flash behind your eyes, vivid images of flesh and fingers and lips. So much skin against smooth skin, lips on plush lips, eyes on gazing eyes. Your heart swells at the memory, as does his.

You sigh longingly, your eyes still closed as you relish in the softness of the pillow under your cheek and the warmth of his body against yours. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you speak, supporting your claim that: "I would love to repeat it but…I am much too tired."

Morpheus hums. "I would not take your sleep, but I shall take the work, if you wish."

Working your arm under your pillow and sinking further into the softness, you moan mildly as your drowsiness dares to pull you deeper into your sleep. "I would like that very much," you nearly whisper, holding his hand fondly.

Morpheus smiles warmly, pressing his lips to your shoulder once more and offering even more tenderness as he grants you more to your neck. You relish in his affection.

"Lay back, my love, and let me serve you." His voice echoes in your mind, and you mumble your response back to him as a sudden drowsiness holds you in its arms.

You whine meekly when he pulls his hand from yours in favor of roaming it over your body, smoothing his palm against your skin and teasing you with his long, slender fingers. His other hand snakes under your body and wraps around your chest, his fingers rolling your nipple between them and savoring your tiny moans. His touch remains gentle and slow as his other hand smooths along your waist and dips lower to tease your inner thigh.

You feel his fingers brush your folds, and your lips part as he parts your own and dips his finger inside of you. You take in a slow, deep breath, sighing on a tiny whimper. "Morpheus…" you mutter.

"Shh, my love." He presses his finger deeper, deeper. His voice washes over you like warm honey and velvet. "Just close your eyes and breathe and feel."

His voice eases you into that fluttering world between consciousness and unconsciousness. His finger sends goosebumps along your flesh, and your lips part as you feel the tiny sparks of pleasure dot your skin. He adds a finger, working them in a gentle thrust to coax the arousal from you.

He curls his fingers inside of you, a steady pace keeping you on the cusp of sleep while also delivering to you the pleasure you deserve. You moan lightly, and Morpheus’ voice finds you once more. “Let me love you,” he says. “Let me give to you what you wish, my darling.”

You mewl at his words, whining as you grind your hips back into him, though you’re not sure you moved much. You feel him growing hard against your thigh as he pulls you closer and continues to caress your breasts in his large hand. You whisper his name under your breath, clenching around his fingers as he presses them deep inside of you and curls them to massage that sweet spot inside of you that makes you gasp.

The room remains otherwise silent, save for your quiet sighs and whimpers, as he fingers you in your half-sleep. When you feel a knot building in your belly, you shift your hips back against your husband in a sudden search for relief.

His power over you, especially here as you dream with him now, is magnificent. He whispers in your ear, "Let go. Give yourself to me, my love." With a gasp and a shudder, you do exactly as he says. You grind your hips back against him as you let his power wash over you and take control.

He's thorough in making sure your pleasure lasts as long as it can, thrusting his fingers steadily into you, rubbing his thumb against your clit in a consistent circle to keep you wound and ready. And he speaks you through it with his soothing voice, gentle motivations and praises of, "That's it, my beautiful wife. You're doing so well…"

When you've properly come down, his voice comes again. "Would you like more, my dear?"

And you nod, your face still nestled in your pillow as your body settles even deeper into your dream-state. "Yes," you mumble, "please."

Morpheus smiles at his influence over you, holding you tighter as he entwines your bodies to wrap the both of you together. He spreads your thighs apart just enough to spread you open, taking himself in his hand and positioning himself at your fluttering folds.

"Are you ready, my sweetling?" he asks gently, kissing your neck tenderly. You nod again, humming as much of a yes as you could. With another kiss to your shoulder, he complies and begins to push himself inside of you, sheathing his cock into your warmth as a content sigh slips from the both of you.

"You feel magnificent, my darling," he says, pet name after pet name kissing your soul like a healing medicine.

He rocks his hips gently back and forth, his gentle thrusts filling you with his love without disturbing your sleepiness. It's a strange kind of feeling, to be so close to the edge of dreaming within dream but to feel so much pleasure keeping you just conscious enough to feel it almost tenfold. You clench around him as the drag of his cock massages the deepest part of you.

His name falls off your lips, almost like a prayer as he pleasures you on his own terms. Morpheus' eyes are shut and his hands are soothing over your body so slowly. He's lost in his own kind of ecstasy, his body tingling with the lust teeming within your own body.

You whimper again, moaning lightly and your bodies move together in a gentle, perfectly synchronized harmony. "M'love," you sigh. "So good."

He shushes you gently, sighing against your skin and kissing your shoulder once more. "Listen to my voice," he says, pulling you in with his compelling peace. His heart is so full with his love for you, you both lose yourself in it. "You are beautiful, my dear. You are radiant, you are lovely, and you are mine. I love you more than the stars could ever say."

You smile gently at his words, falling in love with him all over again as he rocks his hips in a steady motion with yours. You can't help but to grind your hips back against him, however lazy it is as your body seeks him out. "Oh, my love, you are perfect."

His skilled fingers find your clit once more, and he begins a steady pace over it. Your body shudders at the sensitivity, quickly giving in to his touch and letting his praise sink into your skin.

"Dream," you whimper. "'M so close."

"I know, my darling, I can feel it." His thrusts remain, taking the work in stride as he continues to give you what you need. "I can feel the way you tighten around me. I can hear your little breaths, feel the bumps on your skin…"

You whimper again, a little louder this time. The ecstasy is coursing through your veins, and you're so close to the edge of it all. "Please," you mutter.

He can't help the way his pace on your clit speeds up just a fraction, his grinding hips going a little deeper. He's always given you what you want, weak against your pleas and wanting nothing more than to make you happy.

"You are everything to me, my sweet heart," he sighs, his breath becoming more shallow with his own oncoming release.

It isn't long before the combination of his praise and his hips and fingers mix together and make you cum; a deep gasp filling your lungs, a helpless whine delving into little moans muffled in the expanse of your pillow, your thighs trembling with pleasure and still seeking more. "Mmm, Dream– Ah!"

Morpheus follows after, especially when you moan his name so prettily. How could he resist? He fills you to the brim with his love for you, a deep moan of his own slipping from his throat as he holds you closer as thrusts his hips into you through your orgasm. The power he continues to hold seeps into your flesh and bone and have you cumming so long, your entire body has no choice but to relish in the shuttering feeling as you continue to mewl and moan. Morpheus' hands on your skin and his lips kissing lovingly at your neck and shoulder make you weak.

Time stretches on as you slowly float down to the bed with a body heavy as a potato sack. You're so sleepy now, even more than before as the aftershocks of your pleasure still occasionally rattle through your body. Morpheus is right there to soothe your laziness. "You did beautifully, my love," he says, reluctantly pulling out of your warmth and admiring just how messy the both of you had become. "Do you feel better?"

If he wasn't in such perfect tune with your body, he would have missed the way you nodded. "Perfect…" you mutter.

He smiles. After a moment, you muster the strength to turn over onto your other side so you are facing your husband. You needn't open your eyes, you needn't say a word. You just turn yourself in his arms and press your body even closer to his own as he envelops your wordlessly into his embrace. He holds you as you silently praise him and his love for you.

He can tell you're about to sink into an even deeper sleep, the dream you're in being left behind for another (possibly even fonder) one—perhaps even one you could manage to open your heavy eyes in. Just as you're slipping away, his knuckles brushing your skin and his eyes watching your face, you mumble under your breath, "Love you…s'much."

He smiles fondly, a warm smile that would have made you cry, had you see it. He kisses your forehead and then gives into his desires to kiss your sweet lips, overjoyed when you manage to kiss him back. "I love you, too, my darling."

You both slip off together to meet again in a deeper realm of dreaming.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 Dreamers taglist: @meg-the-second-greatest @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @gortycs @octo-octopie @damianodavidhands @alexxavicry @rosaren24988 @sayumiht @jaritzaflores94 @evabalexeeva @cl-0-vr Tag yourself here...

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello, can i request

the reader is getting frustrated because she is having trouble coming, so she tries to fake it. Morpheus figures out what she's trying to do because he knows how her pussy feels when she's tight around him, so he gets mad and stops, leaving her wanting for the next few days....then when he finally gives in , is she sharpened all night as punishment? I hope this makes some kind of sense.

Good Thing

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Lord Morpheus does not appreciate you faking it and your sweet dream turns into a nightmare.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, petty!dream, MDNI, smut (pwp, free use, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, light sadism, vaginal penetration, edging, temperature play, cunninglingus), typos, etc.

A/N: this has been in my drafts for ages T_T me so sorry. but ya know nonnie, what was so wild, when you sent this i was reading an aemond targaryen fic with he exact same prompt i was sent into orbit Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

I squirm as I am hoisted on his lap. I feel Dream's hot breath on my neck. My flesh was spilling between his fingers as he kneaded them. My hands were shaking as they latched around his neck.

He felt good. He felt so good-- he really did. But I was exhausted.

Dream brushes his nose against me, palms by the curve of my hips as he maneuvered me in sync with his movements. He snapped into me with a need that could not be quelled. His thighs and abdomen were hot and sticky with my slick. My whole body was burning with sweat and remnants of the multiple orgasms he's left me, he's left in me. He mutters against my ear, his deep voice making my shaky one even more unstable, "one more, my love."

One more.

But see, he's been saying this for hours.

And when I say hours, I mean there's no sense of time in the Dreaming, and he's taken fuck me to oblivion way to fuckin' seriously. And yet -

"I assure you," he crooned as he clutched the back of my head when it got too heavy for me to keep up, "my sister will not touch you. I will not let her take what's mine. She will not come near you," he sucks on my skin, "not when I have you in such a servile state."

Fuck me.

And he did.

And he was.

Still is.

My head rested on his shoulder. My body jolted with each of his thrusts. I felt my eyes water all over again, and now even my mouth was crying. I dribble on his skin as I whine, "D-Dream."

"Shhh," he kisses my head, "let me relax," he holds me firm in my place, "we have an arrangement, don't we? You want me to do this, don't you?"

I whimper when his thumb rubs on my oversensitive nub, "p-please-"

"I know," he tuts, "I know," he purrs, claiming my mouth with his, "just one more. Can you not give your beloved king one more sweet orgasm? Don't you want me to relax, darling? You said you'd let me do anything I want-"

"Dream-"

He sits up straighter, "and I want to feel you take pleasure in my love making."

A tired cry leaves my mouth.

"I need you to feel how much I love you, my jewel," he licks my neck and nips on my skin, "one more time."

"B-but you've been s-saying that-- for hours," I feel tears streak my cheeks.

He nods and licks my tears, "I swear to you, my love," his fingers dig into my flesh, "one last rupture is all I will ask of you now."

"Promise?" I blurt desperately.

Dream peppers kisses on my neck, "you have my word."

And fair enough, fair enough, he did promise me relief after. The words of an Endless were not fickle and I should have trusted in him. I mean I did! I do! But my mortal body could only take so much and so, I did what I had to do.

I faked it.

I faked it and immediately he stopped.

Thank. Goodness.

At least... it was a thank goodness in that moment.

I caught my breath as I melted like putty on him, allowing my body to bathe in its exhaustion though I did not feel pleasure from the squirming show I just put on.

Dream's hold on me relaxes. His hands come to my thighs as he adjusted me on him.

"T-thank you," I mutter.

"What was that?"

I heave as I look at him, "I said t-"

"You did not finish," he cuts, one hand coming to my back to keep me in place as he pulled back to scowl at me.

My silence proved me guilty. My stutter decided my sentence.

Dream's nostril flare and his jaw hardens, "hmmm." He reaches out for my face and pushes back my sweat soaked hair, "did you think I would not realize?"

I squeak when he pulls me off him and sets me down on his side. I fidget as I feel the cushion of the bed on my swollen, dampened thighs. I reposition myself uncomfortably as he leans on his knees and sighs.

"Dream-"

"I will not forget this."

"... w-what?"

Dream turns to me, eyes darker than normal, face tense and clearly irritated, "you will learn not to resort to trickery with me, insolent girl."

Well, fuck. "My love-"

I don't get to speak as he stands and eyes me in disdain, "if you do not want me to touch you-"

"I didn't say I don't want you to touch-"

"-then I shall have my leave and keep my hands to myself."

I sigh in frustration as I watch him walk away from me. I crumble on the bed and slam my head on the sheets. I look up and see he's already by the door, his clothing already manifested on him, "Dream. Dream, please-"

Dream reaches for the knob and slams the door shut on his way out.

For the next week, the whole Dreaming would be walking on eggshells around their king and it was all my doing.

A harsh winter fell on the Dreaming. Everyone was fighting for their life in the cold and I could no longer let them suffer because of my unintended offence and his exaggerated pettiness.

I manage to get Mervyn make Dream go to the throne room.

The throne room echoes, "so, you've resorted to trickery once more, brat."

I turn over my shoulder and jolt when I see Dream already looming over me. I clutch my chest as I look up at him, "don't be ridiculous. Am I not guest who can ask for the attention of the king?"

"No," he rebuts.

The windows of the throne room begin to get battered by hail. I flinch when a large, icy stone breaks through the glass. I turn to the thing on the floor, back to the being that was the reason why there was an eternal frost, "Dream, please-"

"So, I do not please you?" his voice reverberates through my rib cage as his form is obscured and grows larger.

My heart races as I reach out and try to touch him. My hands go through his form and I whimper, "my love."

He growls.

I gasp when his icy hand takes my cheek.

"You have offended me beyond reparation."

I flinch at his touch. Cold begins to creep up on me. I bite back the quip lingering on my tongue. How dramatic of him.

I try to reach out to him again and this time, he lets me touch him. I feel something like shoulders and I pull on him, "puppy, please-"

"Do not insult me," he barks, face coming into view as he looks down on me, "I've had enough of you."

A shiver runs down my spine.

His hand dig into the roots of my hair. He pulls my locks back and tilts my head up, "so..." he inhales deeply, "how shall I get retribution? What will you to to appease me?"

My pulse quickens. I bite my lip, "anything."

He scoffs, "and have you trick me again?"

"I -" I shudder when he circles around me, "I promise I won't complain. I'll be a good girl."

"I do not believe you," he leans into my neck from behind, "insect."

Goosebumps form on my skin, "Dream-"

He places a hand on my mouth, "silence."

I squeal into his hand and do my best not to squirm at the ice cold of his palm now scouring my body. He breathes against my skin and I flinch at the cold.

"Oh," he mocks, hand coming off my mouth, "are you cold, my love?"

I suck in a sharp breath, "y-yes."

He hums and kisses my jaw. His lips are ice cold, "my poor girl."

I flinch when his hands trace upward underneath my shirt, "perhaps removing your clothes will help you," he pulls my top off, "don't you agree?"

I shiver and pant at the notion.

"Well?" he coaxes.

I find myself nodding, "y-yes."

Dream kisses my cheek repeatedly, "very good."

He turns me around and begins to strip me naked. I begin to shiver more violently when I'm left bare. I feel my nose begin to clog.

Fuck, I'm going to die.

"D-D-Dream," I shudder, "I'm fre-eezing."

He pulls me into his chest. He is an icicle. He caresses my cheeks, "shhh," he leans in and kisses me, "you're mine. Nothing else will touch you but me," he lifts me up, "isn't that right?"

"R-r-r-r-ight," I wrap my legs around him.

I let out a hiss when I am upon a cold surface. I realize then that I was sat on his throne.

I continue to shiver as he pulls away and looks down on me. He tilts his head as snow begins to powder the room, "you will not touch me," he bends down, "am I understood?"

I nod quickly as I watch him drop to his knees.

He sighs, steam wafting up from his lips, "good girl."

I hiss, nails digging into the armrest, when his suddenly hot fingers touch my shaking knees and part them, "sweet Mary- fuck-"

He snorts, steam coming out of his nostrils, "you will not say any other name but mine."

I pant heavily as he takes my legs and throw them over his shoulder. I whine and so badly want to grab at him when I feel how warm he is. I lean into him and cry out when his mouth connects with my freezing skin. My belly quakes for multiple reasons when his large hand rubs my skin. My nails scrape the wood on the armrest. I scream his name out helplessly.

He sighs in satisfaction. I hear him in my head: very good.

I screw my eyes shut and rut into him, "please let me touch you."

"Never," he rather instantaneously retorts.

It continues like this. I tremble at his ministrations while snow continues to build all over the throne room, save for the area around him.

"Fuck," I shake off snow from my shoulder. I flinch when I feel his tongue working on me. I could barely feel my fingers though my lower half was warm, "p-please, my hands-"

My cries fall deaf on his ears.

It continues like this up until my voice is hoarse and my calves are shaking at the feel of him eating me up.

"F-fu- D-Dream-"

"Mmm," he finally looks up at me, face wet with slick and saliva.

Fuck, I hate him but he was so pretty. "P-please- m-my hands," I shudder."

I could see the warmth radiating off him, "what of your hands, little bug?"

"T-they're so cold-"

I whimper when he takes my hands and places them on his cheeks, "better?"

I nod, "thank y-you."

Dream smiles softly, placing a burning kiss on the inside of my thigh, "good girl."

My belly spasms when I feel his hot breath on my core again, "tell me. Will my beautiful toy trick her master again?"

I let out a overwhelmed sound when he slowly sinks his teeth into my aching core. I arch my back and dig my fingers in his hair, pulling firmly. My toes curl as I whimper, "n-no."

He hums against me. It makes me squeal.

He takes my legs and pushes me back, hanging my legs on the armrest, "you swear it to me?"

I whimper when he pulls away from my thighs and rises to his feet to kiss me. I bring him close and relish the feel of his warmth, "yes," I sink my face into his neck and rub my cheek on his skin, "yes! I swear, I swear-"

"Mmm," he places his arms around me, "I believe you."

Dream rubs his hands down my shoulders then my thighs and pulls back.

I look up at him as snowflakes fall onto his hair and lashes. He smiles at me then rubs my cheek with his warm hand, "best find your clothes in the snow, my love. It would be unfortunate if you caught a cold."

"W-What?"

With that, he retreats and wraps his coat around himself.

I shiver and watch my breath condense in the air Dream walks off, treading easily through the snow.

When I realize what was happening, I curl into myself and feel my body shake. Was it the cold? Anger? Betrayal? Who knew.

"Come quick, pretty girl. I will prepare a cup of tea for you in the kitchen," he calls over his shoulder, licking his lips as he heads for the door.

I hiss when I attempt to step into the snow. I whimper and look up as I clutch my chest, "you're not seriously leaving me? Dream?! DREAM!"

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello, can I request a Morpheus x reader where she's wearing Morpheus’ coat, and he's absolutely amazed and attracted by that? Thank you ☺️

A/N: thought of writing something like this for Corinthian also? Lemme know if you'd like that!🌺

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

Breathe in.

A scent of lush, exotic fruits and a slight mustiness of old books. The material is heavy and slightly coarse but the lining feels like satin, delicately brushing against your skin. Something rustles in the pockets. For a second, you consider fishing out those strange treasures but the thought is quickly dismissed - it's impolite to snoop. Besides, whatever Morpheus carries in his coat is something he considers he might need at any given moment, so, perhaps, it was best for you to not play with them.

The garment is a little too big for you, so Morpheus takes a moment to roll up the sleeves. He does so silently, in swift motion as though he had done it countless times - like it was something obvious. His aloofness flusters you and you wonder if he thinks that a certain level of charity is expected of him or if he's simply following his heart's desires without letting reason interrupt this quiet confession of affection. One of his hands lingers around yours, threading your fingers together, and only then does he continue the stroll.

Your lungs are full - you breathe out.

Breathes in.

Morpheus keeps looking at you, indulging in some strange urge he has only just discovered. The coat is slightly big on you (Could he drown in you the way you're drowning in this black material?), virtually hiding your physique as though you are a secret he keeps away from the world. He ponders that thought - can he? Can he actually keep you all to himself, a treasure he never shares with anyone like a well of serenity that never dries?

It's as if he's seeing you for the first time but that doesn't make sense, right? Morpheus has already spent countless hours admiring the miraculous whim of the universe that made you reciprocate his infatuation. Perhaps it wasn't as much seeing you as seeing what the two of you might be one day as though giving you his coat granted Morpheus a glimpse into the future - into days where there is no longer 'him' and 'you' but a third entity, an inextricable union or a tide that mixes the ever-changing seas of what each of you is. His heart flutters at the possibilities and could-bees; seeing you, Morpheus is staring into his future and it is filled with gentle touches, quiet giggles and this overpowering sense of safety.

When you take his coat off, a sad parting that has to happen, will your smell linger on the black material and keep him calm whenever he puts the garment on? Or maybe when he leans in to kiss you, he'll smell pomegranate and antique books on your neck? Will he belong to you or will you belong to him? Truthfully, Morpheus doesn't care - either way, you're bound to each other.

His lungs are full - he breathes out.

Between exhales and inhales, those short seconds when creatures tread the line between death and life, most think about their desire for oxygen, a dull pain in their chest reminds them that they are not yet deceased, but lovers so often get things confused and think about each other instead.

[thepaintedlady00]

There I am, minding my own business loading my dishwasher when this idea just flies putts nowhere and lodges itself in my brain. So. Here you go. Have some random Sandman thing 😂🤷‍♀️

Dream of The Endless x Human Reader

TW: angst, betrayal, slightly darker Dream, this is unedited, I have literally no clue what this is so 🤷‍♀️

The Cursed Truth

"You're not human." It wasn't a question. Not anymore. Now, it was a fact. It was clear and definite and unimaginable. Just as he was.

Morpheus' lips thinned as he sighed, hands clasped tightening in front of him with a face as lovely and distinguished as polished marble. "I am not."

Though your previous statement hadn't been a question, his verbal confirmation of it made your whole body ripple with disbelief. How? How was that possible? "You…" Your chest stuttered slightly as angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "You weren't going to tell me."

That wasn't a question, either.

"No."

You pressed your eyes shut as tightly as you could. White filled them, stars and shapes stinging the backs of your eyelids, and it still wasn't enough.

"I did not want to frighten you with all the knowledge that comes with the truth." His voice was so soft just as it had been over the years you'd shared with him. Years. 

"So, instead, you've lied to me!" You yelled, your lungs so heavy inside you it felt like they'd explode if you held it in any longer. "From the first moment, you have been lying! Was anything you said true? Did you ever really love me?"

The marble of his face cracked, eyebrows pulled together, and sorrow filled his eyes' deep, endless blue. "Of course I do. I would never lie to you about a thing as sacred as that."

The words felt sincere. They felt true, but how could they be? How could you believe them now? "How do I know? You've lied about who - what you are from the start. How can I trust that you aren't lying to me now?"

"You may not have known what I was…" He took a step toward you, hands separating as he gently lifted one to your face. His palm was cool, so soft that his touch felt like silk against your cheek. "But I swear to you, every moment we shared, every word spoken between us has been true and always will be."

Tears slid down your cheeks, the wind gently rustling your hair as you looked up at him. Then it hit you how you didn't remember going to him or him coming to you. The last thing you remembered was returning home after learning the truth from one of the books in Hob Gadling's home. You paced… You…

"This isn't real. Is it?" You said, tearing your eyes away from him to look at your surroundings, now so very clearly a dream that you didn't understand how you'd missed it before. "This is a dream."

Morpheus grew slightly stiff as he slowly lowered his hand from your face, but that was all. There was no disappointment or surprise… Nothing was written on his face. "Just because it is a dream does not mean it is not real."

He seemed so calm, so collected. Even from the start, when you confronted him, he didn't seem surprised. Nothing you said since he'd arrived had surprised him. Your whole body burned as you stared at him, eyes wide and angry. "How many times have we had this conversation?"

His jaw clenched, and his face finally showed you something. Annoyance. Frustration. "Several."

"You fucking asshole!" You screamed. "You've been using whatever bullshit power you have to redo this fight so you could win?"

"I have no interest in winning, my dear," he replied with a sigh. "I am simply trying to do this right. You were so scared the first time I explained it. I thought if I tried a different approach, it would help."

"Did it?" You seethed.

Morpheus shook his head. "No. You are exceedingly stubborn."

"I'm the stubborn one?" You demanded.

"The third time you punched me."

"That sounds like a good idea." You breathed out a hot breath.

He took a step toward you again, presenting you with the opportunity. "You may hit me as many times as you'd like. If it would help you… If it would return things to the way they were, I would let you carve my heart out here and now."

To the way things were. Back to when you were some idiot, clueless thing to him? No. "Beating the shit out of you wouldn't make things be the way they were. Nothing will."

You could see the pain in his eyes. He did care, but that didn't mean you could forget this. Not yet. "I have upset you. I am not as eloquent with my words as I once thought." He looked away from your face momentarily, resigning himself to something before reaching into his coat. "I shall have to be more mindful next time."

You grabbed his hand, pulling his eyes back to yours. "Don't you dare."

"I cannot lose you," he said, his eyes shifting into dark pools of starlight. "I will not."

"If you make me forget… If you erase this to start again, I will never forgive you. You will lose me if you do this, Morpheus."

"Then what would you have me do?" He demanded. "You do not understand. You are still angry and fearful and-"

"I'm human." Tears slid down your cheeks, floating in the air between you both. "If you want me to understand and to… To move past this, then you have to let me do it on my own terms." His hand squeezed the pouch, still hanging half in his cosmic cloak. "Please."

The darkness that threatened to engulf your world slithered away, and his eyes returned to the blue you were used to. He let go of the pouch, pulling his hand from his cloak, and instead took hold of your wrist. "Very well, my dear. I shall abide by your wishes." He pressed his lips to your wrist. "When you are ready to speak again, you need only call upon me."

Your anger simmered as you grew tired, so tired you could hardly stand it. "Thank you."

"This dream is over."

Sitting up in your uncomfortable chair, you instantly pinched your arm, studying your apartment for any sign that it wasn't real before you looked at the book sitting open in front of you depicting the god Oneiros. 

The shaper of form. 

The King of Dreams and Nightmares.

Dream of The Endless.

The Sandman.

The man you'd loved.

Your fingers touched the page as fresh tears stained your cheeks. "Morpheus."

Rain filled your world, thunder and lightning filled the cloudy skies as the raven sitting on the window seal watched you cry, and through his small eyes, The Dream Lord too watched. Unbeknownst to all of you, a figure clad in black stood outside the flower shop across the street from your apartment. Their white hair was slicked back, and their golden eyes were lined with thick kohl. Red roses surrounded them as they lifted their gaze to your window, to the restless bird that perched in front of it for a moment before taking flight into the storm clouds. Their crimson lips twisted up into a wide grin. 

"Oh, how horribly predictable of you, big brother." Desire plucked one of the red roses, giving it a generous sniff before they crushed the velvet petals in their hand. They scattered the petals in the wind as they sauntered across the street, making sure to leave a decent clump outside your door as they lifted their fist and knocked.

[silversweetpea]

A Promise Made

word count: 1543

Summary: It dawns on him, in that moment, that you are much more fragile than he had expected. And equally so that this revelation unsettles him.

Warnings: Offscreen injury mentions, Reader gets lightheaded and slightly dizzy from blood loss. 

Author’s Note: It is four am and I would like to imagine a bit of a protective situation as a bedtime story thanks. Also I’m not sure how I feel about this writing because I’m worried that the style is too similar to other writings i’ve done but again, it’s four am, I don’t know if I can trust my own opinions here. 

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿

Dream was a difficult man shaped amalgamation to read, but that never stopped you from trying. Telling the difference between jaw clench of amusement and jaw clench of anger never got easier in the months since Johanna had called in an old favor for some help and you had met him, but you had  a feeling you knew what emotion it was that darkened his gaze in this moment.

“I’m fine.” You said again, and you had to commend yourself on keeping the shake from your voice. The nightmare hadn’t seriously hurt you, part of you wondered if it would have though had Dream not found you when he did. Splitting up had seemed like a good idea at the time, it had made more sense to cover more ground, ask more people who they may or may not know the locations of. Even nightmares had friends, after all. 

Dream hadn’t moved an inch in the chair beside your bed since you woke swaddle in the comforters. You didn’t know the details of what had happened after you passed out, there was just a vague memory of fear and then safety. 

“Dream-” His gaze didn’t move from the bandages across your chest. A precaution, nothing more, but the wrappings were large enough to peek up under the collar of your shirt. There was a thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you that was gone as quick as it came when he spoke.

“When you are healed, I will have Mathew escort you home. Your assistance is no longer required.” The safety you had felt was a distant memory replaced with a chill.

“Excuse me?”

“I will find the rogue nightmare on my own.” Dream stood, eyes snapping shut. There was something in his features, or maybe the way that he held himself, that made your entire being bristle.

“The whole reason you asked Johanna for help was because you couldn’t.” Your body ached ever so slightly as you forced yourself into a sitting position. The sound of the bed creaking seemed to startle him, those eyes you had such complicated feelings for finally meeting yours. “This is ridiculous I’ve been more than helpful in this whole ordeal and you’re going to just send me home because of a scratch?”

“(y/n),” He took a step closer to the bed, hand reaching up as if to usher you back down to rest. A motion that never quite finished as his hand hovered in the space between you. It took you only another second to force yourself to your feet and enter his personal space.

“No, I want to see this through. I told you I would help and I’m going to.” You had never thought of the king of dreams and nightmares as a particularly intimidating person. Sure, he was brooding, but in a wet cat sort of way. Tall and lanky and dark, yet never scary, not when you had seen him so gentle with his friends.

“I do not want your help, nor do I need it any longer.” The words that should sting instead make you scoff. You were nearly toe to toe with him now, the hand that had hovered so noncommittedly in the air still airborne. 

“And why’s that? Did you suddenly find her while I was passed out here?” It occurred to you for the first time that Dream was taller than he had ever been. He seemed to tower over you. It was harder to ignore the chill you felt this time than when you had been wrapped in blankets. “Or maybe the asshole that tried to kill me had a bit more information than I thought and you know exactly where she is now?”

“This is not up for discussion.” His narrowed gaze draws out a scoff. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You can choose not to work with me but I’m going to help you.” The room spins ever so slightly as you turn to leave the room. You weren’t sure where you were going to go yet but you were sure you would figure it out as you went. The library maybe? Lucienne was busy but she knew more about the kingdom than anyone right now.

You had barely made it to the door before you could feel the soft pressure of a hand around your wrist.

“It would help me more,” Dream’s voice was soft and strained. As if the things he was saying pained him to put to words. “to know that you are safe.”

The room spins slightly harder and it occurs to you that maybe the nightmare had gouged you a bit more than you thought. The turn to face him is slower than any you have ever made and behind you you can glimpse the window. It isn’t quite raining out but the sky is unnaturally dark, clouds swirling like the stars in his eyes.

“What?” You can’t remember if blood loss can cause you to mishear people. You don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself even if it’s not. 

“I could not protect you in my realm. How can I trust in my ability to do the same outside of it?” The silence feels deafening, like a creature with its own presence trying to pry the two of you apart. You try not to focus on its weight, however, instead distinctly aware of the fact that Dream is still holding your wrist. His touch is cooler than you had thought it would be but not quite unpleasant. In fact its quite the opposite. 

“And you think sending me away will keep me safer than if I stayed with a literal king of dreams and nightmares? Really?” Your voice tremors and your skin feels electric from the contact. You want to rip your hand from his grasp and take his hand in both of your own at the same time. “Do you know how many beings out there would love to catch me alone right now?”

“You will not be alone, you will have Constantine.” Dream’s voice was barely more than a whisper. You wouldn’t think his lips had moved at all had you not been watching his face so carefully. 

"You’re being an idiot,” The clouds are darker now, you hadn’t thought it possible but the sky seems to be absorbing the light that tries to warm it. 

“You need to rest.” For the first time since you met Dream seems to be genuine in asking instead of assuming you will follow through with what he says. It almost makes up for the way that his eyes flit to your point of connection and slowly releases his grasp.

“Do you promise to be here when I wake up?” The bedroom is suffocatingly small in this moment, not helped by the waves of nausea rushing over your person. 

“Why must you be so obstinate?” For what is meant to be an insult, Dream’s gaze and and tone are softer than one would expect. Or maybe not. For all the times the two of you have bickered you’re not sure you can remember ever hearing any sort of heat in his words towards you.

“Its the only way I can get you to notice me.” Usually your remark would earn you a slight smile, maybe a particularly strong exhale if Dream is particularly amused. Now though, you see only concern.

“I notice you regardless of your temperament.” You’re not even aware you’re reaching out until the man startles ever so slightly. Heaviness weighs upon your body and your grip tightens just barely. Just enough to try and pull him back from the way his thoughts visibly surround him.

“Dream,”  Blue eyes search your own but you’re not sure what he’s looking for. His height is returning to that which you’re familiar with and its strange to see. To watch him shrink and soften before you all the while holding his hand in your grasp. Even as Dream nods, a just barely there movement you’re not even sure of at first, you think that he looks better this way. Familiar is good on him. So is Kind.

It’s easier to lean into him than you had thought it would be. The hand you insist on holding begins to gently steer you both back towards the bed, his free hand circling to hover over your lower back.

“Rest, we can continue this conversation when you awaken.” You’re scared to loose contact with him in case your...whatever Dream is at this point, will slip away in a moments notice. Even as he convinces you to sit you’re not entirely convinced that he’s not just waiting for a moment to usher you back to the waking.

“Do you promise?” Its your turn to whisper as you allow him to help you back to bed. For a heart stopping moment he stands at your bedside and you think he’s leaving. 

And then, the chair is pulled closer to the bed, enough so that his knees touch the side of the mattress when he sits.

“I give you my word.” Dream’s voice is warm and soothing as hot chocolate on a winter night and from the window behind you you notice sunlight begin to filter through the window. 

[darkk-academic]

Tease

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]

[Morpheus x F!Reader]

Summary : Morpheus teaches you the craft of sculpting dream.

Warnings : None.

"Let me teach you."

You have been trying to adapt to your role as a dream-shaper, but all in vain.

How can anyone expect you to just be good at it?

How can he? The King of Dreams.

You were human one moment and bam! A man—ethereal in his beauty—comes knocking, spouting out about shapers, and dreams, and nightmares, and suddenly, you are nothing you thought you were.

Still. Still, you tried.

For weeks, you tried to adapt yourself to life in the dreaming—not that he was any help at all—bless Lucien and Matthew for being so understanding.

And what did he do?

Snapped at you.

Why?

Because you weren't an adept shaper in three weeks.

You're just so…so overwhelmed.

And now, now he comes after two months of silence, proclaiming he'll teach you.

He stands tall in the empty training room inside the Dream castle—the one the Dreaming itself constructed for you—looking sublime in his entirety.

The sunshine filters through the stained-glass window, changing colours, shining down on him.

The fetching view does nothing to quell your anger.

"No, thanks," you scoff.

Deliberately obvious in your ignorance of his gaze, you start to walk around him, towards the door.

Nimble fingers curl around your wrist, halting your escape.

"I have been made aware of your troubles," he starts, voice a touch hesitant, like he isn't quite sure of his words. "I must elucidate that my intention had not been one of malice, nor was it my desire to wound your heart so."

You swallow hard. He makes it so hard to stay angry. How does he do that?

"I'm trying," you say. "I truly am." You turn, peering up at him. "But it's so hard, and it's awful every time I fail. I can't measure up to—" your voice cracks.

Tears finally escaping the cage.

Morpheus draws himself closer to you. Hand coming up, he cups your face, thumb brushing under your eye.

"It is I who should be trying. It is entirely my responsibility. And I apologise for I have failed you."

There's shame in his eyes, it tugs at your heart.

"If you can find it in yourself to let me amend my mistake. Kindly, let me teach you."

"I'm still not hearing I'm sorry in that speech." Pretty eyes or not, does he think he can avoid that by his eloquent speech? Nuh huh, tears in eyes, snark on lips, that's you.

For a split second, he appears baffled, but then he nods. Bowing his head slightly, he looks at you. "I apologise for the distress I have caused you, I, with no protest, take complete accountability of my… impetuousness."

You offer him a silent stare, wanting him to squirm under your gaze the way everyone does under his, but all he does is quirk a questioning brow.

Clearing your throat, you glance away. "Apology accepted."

"And… the lessons?"

Lessons from him might just be what you need. Who can teach the craft of dreams better than the Dream King?

Gaze flicking in his direction, you flash him a small smile. "And lessons."

•••

You take it back.

You don't need lessons from him.

Not because he is a terrible teacher, quite the opposite, in fact, he's absolutely terrific.

You, on the other hand…

You are a poor excuse for a student.

A student with a pathetic, hopeless crush on him.

"Morpheus, I don't need your lessons," you practise. Nodding at yourself.

And then you enter the training room with a deep fortifying breath.

Your breath leaves in a whoosh.

The windows on one side are wide open today, letting the golden sunshine in. It entangles along the lining of Morpheus's skin, it's as though he's sun sewn into being.

This is torture.

"Hello," you say, voice hoarse.

He turns to you, inclining his head in greeting.

"We will be shaping a dream—"

"Morpheus," you cut him off.

He pauses. "Yes?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

Inhaling sharply, you push yourself to speak. "I—this…that is—"

Sensing your distress, with long strides, he closes the distance between you two.

His eyes go soft as they peer down at you. "Is something the matter?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

Lips parting, dumbfounded, you stare at him.

Calling your name, his hand hovers near your face. "Is there something you wish to say?"

Morpheus, I don't need your lessons.

"Morpheus, I need you," you blurt out. Mortified, your eyes widen. "Lessons! Your lessons, that is." You nod vigorously. "I need your lessons."

"I said as much," he replies. Walking towards the centre of the room, he peers at you over his shoulder. "Come."

"What?"

He quirks a brow. "To shape the dream."

"Oh," you sigh. "Of course, to shape the dream."

Dreaming, if you love me, open the ground beneath and let me sink. Please.

•••

You're going to combust.

Standing with your back to Morpheus's front, his hands stretched straight along with yours, fingers twining with yours, open palm sculpt the base of the dream.

Well, trying—

"To bring a dream to life, you must feel," Morpheus explains. "Envision the heat of your emotions rising, can you?"

You feel it, the heat of his breath at your nape. Your fingers twitch the wrong way.

—And failing.

His hand comes up to curl around your neck. "Focus," he commands.

His fingers graze your bare arm as his hand trails down to its previous position.

Sweet lord…

"—are you quite alright?"

You blink, flushing red. "I—I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"It appears you are having some trouble hearing."

"Oh yes," you agree, anything to escape embarrassment. "Maybe the room is feeling mischievous today?"

Which could very well be true. The dreaming in its entirety is conscious, and has a habit of playing with its inhabitants.

He hums, the vibrations reverberate from his chest to yours.

You want to bang your head against a wall.

"Very well. I will accommodate you better, then."

Say what.

Something soft brushes near your ear, making you jump.

Morpheus's hand squeezes yours assuring. You still.

His chin comes to rest on your shoulder. Silken hair brushes the side of your cheek, you bite your lip to keep a gasp down.

"Alright?" He whispers by your ear, a tingling arises there, warm and caressing it trickles over to the line of your throat, down to your heart, and lower still to your belly.

You suppress a shudder.

"Mhm," the sound that leaves your mouth is akin to a wounded puppy's whine. Your eyes dart around, desperate to find something to distract you from the ever rising heat.

You catch sight of Morpheus and you in the window. The image of it does not help your case, him and you pressed together, his hands coverings yours give the impression of him caging you in—

Please…

And then you see.

The slight curl of Morpheus's lips.

Oh.

He knows what he's doing.

Letting your gaze go hooded, you turn your head towards him. Nose grazing his cheek, you push your back into him ever so slightly.

His breath hitches.

Teasing, your lips brush the corner of his as you rasp, "Alright?"

Game on.

………………………………………………………………………

A/N :

Wanted to see whether I could write chemistry between two people.

Not sure if there's chemistry in this one or not.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤️

[preciouslandmermaid]

|throne| - morpheus x reader

Note: All kinktober content is mature/explicit. Fics will be posted on Tumblr first, then transition over to ao3. All fics will be reader/canon-character with no use of Y/N. I will do my best to include additional warnings, but most should be self explanatory in the prompts. 

prompt: face-sitting | pairing: morpheus/f!reader | warnings: explicit sexual content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His long, ivory fingers unlace the front of your dress with methodical care. You are here, in the Dreaming, resting upon his black sheets of an entirely too-large bed. Your palms twitch at your sides and your chest flutters like a hummingbird when Dream pins you with his eternal, heated gaze.

He says, “You are doing so well, my love.”

His touch is gentle and fleeting, peeling the thin, white dress off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a whisper of silk. Your thighs squeeze together beneath his appraising look. Every glance, every faint touch, burns into your skin like wildfire. He has asked you not to move, not to touch him, and you have obeyed for what feels like centuries.

Morpheus drops his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, and you feel his hum of pleasure reverberate through his chest. You arch your back, fingers clutching the sheets, and your peaked nipples scrape against the soft wool of his sweater. You gasp at the new, delicious sensation and Dream takes the opportunity of your parting lips to delve his tongue between them. He kisses you like it is the last thing he’ll ever do. His tongue strokes into your mouth with languid, playful motions, sucking your lower lip between his, and drinking in your soft mewls.

Your cunt throbs, your body writhes with longing, as he braces himself above you.

“I want to touch you.” You whine when you have a moment’s reprieve. His lips quirk into a semblance of a smile. You are in the Dreaming only until your alarm jolts you awake. You don’t want to waste any time.  

“I know.” He breathes, his hand traveling from the side of your ribcage to your hip, before he parts your legs with a single, large hand. His knuckles brush along your clit in a faint, barely-there touch and you whimper.

“There is something I want as well.” He drops the mental image—his fantasy—into your mind like a coin tossed into a wishing well. Your body prickles with heat and awareness and desire. You nod slowly in consent.

His lanky, dark body prowls over you, his hands light and tempting, before he rolls onto his back with glimmering, mischievous eyes. You nervously bite your lip, heartbeat hammering in your ears, and straddle Dream’s narrow hips.

He nudges you with his palms flat on your ass, “Higher, love.” His deep, rumbling voice causes a shiver down your spine. You shuffle forward until his head is between your thighs and you wrap your hands around the twisted, ivy-shaped iron of his headboard. You tentatively lower yourself and his breath ghosts across your sensitive skin.

“Here?” You rasp, nerves and excitement bubbling in your veins like fine champagne.

“Here.” He hums with contentment. The first touch of his tongue along your folds makes you gasp, and you jump, surprised, but Dream’s hands are on your hips and refusing to let you go. He starts slow with teasing, warm licks across your lips. You quiver above him with your hips jerking involuntarily.

You peek down at him and discover his eyes are closed, dark eyelashes kissing his pale cheeks, his wild hair like a shadow of dark feathers tickles your thighs. His hands drift from your hips to the swell of your ass, kneading and squeezing, keeping your cunt pressed against his mouth. His tongue slides into you and you both hear and feel his groan of wanton enjoyment.

Dream speaks directly into your mind; ‘I will never tire of the taste of you.’

Your eyes roll back into your head, seeing stars, and the Dreaming deepens with a rich, silver color—like moonlight. Morpheus works his mouth over your clit, sucking and laving, feasting on you with rumbles of pleasure. He holds you firmly in place as your knuckles whiten around iron-wrought leaves. Your thighs and arms tremble, shaking and pulsing with need, chasing that inevitable, brilliant release that only he can give you.

You are panting, glistening with sweat, and resisting the urge to hump into his face. His mouth draws away from you and a soft, begging “Morpheus,” slips from your lips. He does not verbally respond and nibbles along your inner thigh. Fine. If he is going to play games, then you are going to break his rules.

Selfishly, you plunge a hand between your legs, and fist a handful of his inky, soft hair. His eyes snap open and they burn with white-hot heat.

“I’ve been good.” You say with a pout. You card your fingers through his hair, stroking him like a big, predatory cat. It is such a marvel that the Lord of Dreams has such gentle, tender places. His hair, the curve of his throat, the space between his long fingers. You long to discover them all.

He hums, “You have.”

He returns to his ministrations between your legs with fervent intensity. His tongue works over you in restless, determined strokes and your spine buckles forward and you tighten your grasp in the root of his hair. The Dreaming ripples with molten, gold light and it glistens on your sweat-soaked skin. Your heart pounds, roaring in your ears, as your stomach clenches and your thighs quiver.

You come and a raw and guttural cry is ripped from your throat. Morpheus drinks in your sounds, your release, his hands pinning you to him and squeezing your buttocks. You sag, boneless, pressing your face into the cold metal of his headboard. Dream moves you with gentle, yet strong hands, guiding you to nudge your leg aside and lay on your back against the comfortable, silk sheets. You blink blearily up at him and your skin prickles at the sight of his mouth and chin shiny with your release. He strokes his fingertips along your temple to the curve of your jaw. His eternal blue eyes regard you with open affection.

He says, “Do you wish to continue?”

You nod almost drowsily, “Yes, please.”

His gaze stokes a new, hot flame inside your abdomen. This a dream you never wish to wake from.

[ofsappho]

TREEHOUSE CHAPTER 32 PREVIEW AGAIN??? (Aka my ex roommate did not kill me! Yay! I’m alive and safe!)

You feel something rustle your hair. Morpheus has moved closer, his fingers mere inches from your face. “Query away, Basileia. I am at your disposal.” His hands twitch as if it’s almost painful for Dream to restrain himself from touching you.

That odd word rolls off of his tongue like an ancient prayer, soft and musical. It’s like a word you’d find chiseled in the ruins of a temple, part of a poem to honor a long-gone goddess.

“What does ‘Basileia’ mean?” You ask.

“You came all this way to ask me that?”

He can be such a little shit sometimes. “Obviously not, I’m just getting warmed up. Naturally.”

“Naturally,” Dream agrees in a manner that indicates he’s humoring you. “In the expressive native tongue of the poet Homer, ‘Basileia’ means ‘great queen’.”

You’re like a moth caught in the hot, unrelenting light of his undisguised, unrepentant tenderness. You couldn’t fly away even if you wanted to.

[writethrough]

The Sandman Collection

The Collections

I do not permit anyone to copy, repost, and/or share my work anywhere, translated or otherwise. However, please feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

All rights to the media and characters below belong to the original creators and writers.

ONE SHOTS

Hiding In Plain Sight (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Helping Morpheus and the Dreaming has been the highlight of your night since you met him. When he notices your presence missing, the Dream King discovers that your eagerness conceals something he should've known.

A Homemade Remedy (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ After days of dealing with your sickness by yourself, you give in and call your boyfriend, hoping he'll come.

How to Mistakenly Summon An Ancient Being & Keep Him (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You're an insomniac and have exhausted all other avenues to help you sleep except one. What happens when that one brings you the King of Dreams?

I Am Yours, Are You Mine (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus' jealousy rises when he sees you with another man.

Kitty Comforts (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You've had a bad day, and the thought of being around another body doesn't sit right with you. Morpheus comforts you in a way only he can.

Leather & Liner (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You put eyeliner and Morpheus, and maybe an extra little embellishment.

Mid-Afternoon Dream (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ Morpheus enjoys his moment of peace with you.

The Physicality of Sitcoms (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ You watch a sitcom with Morpheus and discover something interesting.

Softly (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ You're busy with a late night, and Morpheus coaxes you to bed.

To Dream of Magic (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ On one fateful day, you unknowingly heal Dream of the Endless' raven. He must thank you for your kindness.

What A Luxury It Is to Have You (Morpheus x GN!Reader) ⊹ When you meet Morpheus, it doesn't take long for you to realize your dreams are real, and that means your nightmares are, too. They can hurt you if they catch you. The only way to make sure that never happens is to not fall asleep. Morpheus reassures you.

With Power Comes Misunderstandings (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ When Morpheus is late for your date, the only explanation is that someone's tried to harm him because of you—Supergirl's and Lena Luthor's daughter. After all, why else would they want your completely normal, powerless boyfriend?

MULTI-PART

The Accident That Led Me to You (Part I / Part II) (Morpheus x Fem!Reader) ⊹ A car accident gives you the ability to see Death whenever she's around. Months later, you see Morpheus for the first time. He notices you right away.

The Diviner (Morpheus x Prophetess!Reader)

BONUS CONTENT

Valentine's Day Date

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (1)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 800

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

PART 1 ✧˖°.

"Promise me.”

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise." 

The Dream Lord stiffened in his seat as he banished away his thoughts to the darkest chambers of his mind, afraid they would return otherwise. But they still did, every time. The colours swirling in the glass pane that framed his throne cast vibrant hues of light on his poised face, accentuating his features that were sharp enough to cut skin. Promise Dream, the words came back as a whisper, evoking a chill on his neck that travelled through his spine. He shut his eyes willing his mind to quiet, trying to-

"My lord." Lucienne's welcoming voice pulled him to the present. 

"You have a visitor," she announced. 

Morpheus raised an eyebrow imperceptibly at his failure to come up with someone who might visit his realm, especially when he was not expecting anyone. 

"Little brother,”

The voice was accompanied by a woman with black curls and a skin that glowed before the light from the glass pane even touched her. 

"Death," Morpheus stated, bewilderment tucked somewhere in his tone. After all, he hadn't expected to meet her again so soon. 

"How are you?" She asked.

"I am truly well sister, what brings you here?"

Death knew how much truth his ‘truly well’ held but let it pass for the moment. "Lucienne would you please excuse us for a minute?" 

"Ofcourse my lady.” She dipped her head and pursued the command, closing the colossal doors behind her. 

"Something...something has happened.” Death wasted no time in speaking.  

This time Dream did not try to hide the raise in his eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?" His calm voice floated through the room. 

"Dream,”

Before she could follow the sentence, turmoil had already begun growing within him, Death was using his name only to soften the blow. 

"It's here."

“Bloody hell, that was one hell of a case!” Charles exclaimed as he shut the door behind you three. 

“Charles you know Edwin suffers from serious ptsd please stop using hell so much around him. It’s not like the British lack in creative curses,” you reprimanded him as you shrugged your jacket off, draping it over the couch. 

“Haha you’re hilarious,” Edwin stated monotonically while Charles started chanting ‘hell’ in the background just to spite the both of you. 

“Thanks hon,” you winked. “And Charles shut that hole up or if the ghost didn’t get you I surely will.”

“Hell hell hell hell hell- ow what was that for?” 

You grinned in delight as your boot contacted with his abdomen, “for being annoying.” 

Another “ow” escaped Charles as he sent glaring looks at you. “And that?” 

“For being you,” you beamed, devoid of both your boots now.

Your smile was quickly wiped off your face as Charles began his incantation right in your face. 

“Get away from me!” You groaned flailing your hands to push his bloodied face away. 

“Okay now I don’t know about you both but I for one am seriously tired after the events that have transpired during the day. So if you will excuse me and please take whatever this is,” Edwin gestured at the both of you with a foul expression, “somewhere else because I need to rest.” 

“Hell hell hell,” Charles resumed being annoying as if nothing had happened. 

“I swear if even a droplet of that ghost’s blood drops on my t-shirt I will fucking kill you. Again.” 

“Hell hell- you love me too much for that-hell hell-”

“Yeah? Go on and find out- NO!” You let out a scream that would have for sure woken up your neighbours if you had any, being a secretive ghost agency and what not. 

“You bitch! That was my favourite t-shirt!” You looked down at the once white fabric now bearing an impression of Charles' right profile in blood.

“I know.” He had the audacity to smirk at that. 

You went for his throat, fully determined to give truth to your previous threat when Edwin pulled you from him. 

"Enough! Both of you!” 

Charles and you stared at each other, your ears still hot with fury.

“Charles go wash up that face please! And Hazel you need sleep, unlike us, so go retire to your bedroom.” 

“Like you can just order us around,” you rolled your eyes. 

But Edwin’s one look in your way got you scrambling for your jacket. 

“Yes boss.” Charles made his way to the bathroom. 

“Goodnight Edwin, fuck you Charles.” And you departed with your wishes.

You sighed as you switched on the lights in your room, and plopped down on the single bed. Not even mustering up the courage to change into your night clothes, you let sleep engulf you and entered the world of dreaming. 

A/N: hello peeps this story is set post the events of the sandman show and i haven’t read the comics so you will have to bear with the inconsistencies and the like. if i mess up real bad pls do let me know<3

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

[marvelsgirl616]

My little baby

[lis-likes-fics]

Apple of My Eye

Pairings: Dream of the Endless x Reader Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Angst, torture, injuries... A/N: I really love this idea and this character, she’s just so fcking sarcastic and dramatic while literally being tortured, and I think that’s beautiful. Enjoy!

"I give you the sweetest apple blessed with Asmodeus' curse."

Roderick Burgess stood before a summoning circle as his cult of worshippers surrounded him in dark cloaks and darker magic. The room was silent, other than the silent chants of his followers underneath his demanding voice.

"I give you the rare black lily of the calla."

Eight years after his failure to capture Death, and now Burgess has decided to take a new approach. If he couldn't summon Death, he would try for a different type of being. One who would have no choice but to give him what he wants. Someone bound to him.

"I give you a feather plucked from the wing of a sacred dove."

A muse.

As he discarded the pure, white feather, he felt the force of his magic under his palms. He reached off to the side where Alex slowly stepped forward to offer a small knife to his father, who all but snatched the blade from his hand with the urgency of a bitter old man.

"I give you the blood from out of my veins." He watched the thick, red liquid seep from the cut made in his wrist and into the concoction of offerings.

A follower presented him with a silver platter, which lay a still organ fresh from an animal's chest. "And I give you the heart of the sacrificial goat, for you to feast upon the darkest desires which reside within it."

He felt the air swirl around him, frantically grasping onto whatever stillness it could as magic disrupted it with the stench of greed.

"I summon you with love." A bright light shone from above their heads. "I summon you with agony. I open the threshold, I open the gates. I summon you in the names of the lords of desire. Himeros, Pothos, Eros, Asmodeus."

The circle began to glow, a bright light shining from its boundaries in white light. "We summon you together. Come!"

Burgess' demand resounded along the large room. A bright flash blinded them all, and they covered their eyes to protect themselves from its glow.

Then the light disappeared and the room stilled at an abnormal speed, drenching it in shadows once again. Each person slowly peaked out of their shielded stances to see what had changed. Their breaths were held as they saw a woman, a beautiful woman in a gown lying on the cold floor with weak eyes and a limp body.

"Get the chains, go," he demanded Alex, who quickly moved to grab the freezing metal to pass over.

Roderick bent down to fasten them to the woman's hands, the thick shackles binding her as she lay still on the floor. He watched her eyes blink slowly, so hooded and nearly shut from the exhaustion of his spell.

His lips pulled into a small smirk, cockiness flooding his gaze as he stared at her. "You belong to me."

She didn't respond, she simply stared back at him until her eyes slowly fell shut and she was consumed by darkness.

~

A breath suddenly filled your lungs as you opened your eyes. Consciousness slipped into your skin, soaking into you as you awoke. You felt the ice cold pinch of the ground against your face, your bare arms burning with the sensation. You let out the breath, shifting to sit up in a more comfortable position as you willed your body to wake before you did something rash and got yourself killed.

Your eyes flicked to the shackles on your wrists and the summoning circle around you. The cold metal chaining you here was attached to the ground, embedded so deeply that, with all your strength, you could not move it. No matter how hard you tried, you could not get out. They were unordinary, they magical bound you in a way that made escape impossible.

You were trapped.

You heard footsteps, along the rhythmic tap of a cane against the stone floor. You turned your gaze to the man advancing toward you, your gaze hard and dangerous.

"You're awake," the older man spoke. He was the one you saw before you succumbed to the darkness, your captor. "So good of you to join us."

Your lips formed a hard line as you watched him. Your gaze raked over his form. His suit was highly expensive, his cane even more so, and his hair was golden with strands of grey and white in its mix. He was a tired, old man whose eyes gleamed with greed.

You licked your lips and let out another sigh. "Where am I?"

"Oh, good," he breathed, glancing away as if looking at something before turning his cold gaze back to you. "You aren't silent."

Your gazes never wandered from one another, not when a boy behind him shifted uncomfortably, not when men flanking the door that was her escape shuffled on their feet as they stood at the ready.

"I am Roderick Burgess," he said, "and you are, as I gather, one of the nine muses." You tilted your head to the side as his evaluation. He raised a brow, "Am I correct?" You mirrored his expression, head tilted and brow raised. He was getting impatient. "Well, which are you? Clio? Melpomene? Calliope?"

You rolled your eyes but relented, almost humorously at his terrible assumptions. "I am not a muse."

Burgess hummed, "Oh? Then what are you?"

You didn't respond. You did, however, allow the smallest hint of a smirk to grace your features as you looked up at him.

He took your silence with an exasperated sigh. "Now you are speaking, are you? Just like him?" His voice raised slightly, paranoia sinking in. "Are you with him?"

He pointed his cane toward something. You turned your head in the direction he gestured to.

You nearly gasped at the sight, eyes widened slightly as you took in a man. No, he was no man. He was Endless.

You looked at him, the Endless you knew could only be known as Dream. The Dream, Ruler of Dreams and Nightmares, kin to Desire—your ruler.

You watched him stare at the both of you, watching your interaction with silent lips and guarded eyes. His pale skin seemed to glow, his dark eyes sparked with the galaxies that were held within them.

You turned away before you couldn't. You shook your head at Burgess, steeling your face once more as you returned to stubbornness. "No."

"Hm," is all he said in return. He contemplated for a moment, taking in the sight of you with calculating eyes.

You sighed, "Why am I here?"

He considered before telling you. "I want something. Give it to me, and I shall set you free."

You glanced over your shoulder, but did not look at the Endless behind you. "And him, too?"

Burgess furrowed his brow. "What is he to you?"

You didn't respond, offering your silent alternative to your cooperation as you gave him a look to let him know.

He rolled his eyes and huffed. "If you can give me what I want," he looked at you, "you will both walk free."

You smiled, leaning onto your side with a sudden lax. If all you had to do was your job, then you would.

"What do you desire, Roderick Burgess?"

He was quiet before he spoke. "My son was stolen from me by Death, lost during the Gallipoli Campaign." Your smile faltered a moment. "If you can return him to me, alive and well, you both may leave."

You sighed, your smile falling from your lips as you looked down at his shoes. You sat up again, "Your desire is beyond me."

He tilted his head, not as upset as you thought he'd be. He must be used to the rejection then, "You won't give him to me?"

"I can't give him to you. I can only grant certain desires, not fabrications like," you had to contain your laugh at the prospect, "life after death." You shook your head, locking your bottom lip before facing him again.

His exasperation was sinking in as he huffed angrily. "Can no one give me what I want?"

You shrugged, "What you ask to is improbable, impossible."

He focused his hard gaze on you once more. "What can you give me?"

"What do you desire that would set me free?"

"I want my son back."

You sighed, granting him a look full of pity, taunting and teasing. "Then I will say no more."

You did just that, sitting back and showing the end of your cooperation as you stared at him.

"Very well, then," he said. "I will take what I can." Then he turned his back and began to depart from the cellar you were trapped in. The sound of his footfalls were soon accompanied by those of the boy who trailed quickly behind him.

"I will get what I want."

You rolled your eyes as the doors shut, your shielded face falling slightly as you turned away. You looked straight at Dream, his prison of glass and gold binding rendering him just as imprisoned as you as you stared.

He shared your gaze with a look of sympathy and knowledge.

~

For a couple of times, Burgess ignored you entirely. He came in once a day to go to Dream, to demand from him gifts he did not deserve and or could not, only to be met with more silence from the dream lord that would not speak.

But something changed when he came in and made his way directly to you. The determination in his eyes was near elation as the smile on his face gave you a paranoid look. He knew.

He stopped in front of you, looking down on you like you were a creature meant to be crushed under his boot. He spoke after a long silence as you simply stared back at him.

"Since you will not give me what I want, I will simply have to take it from you." The words lingered in the air as you remained silent.

His hands, which were clasped behind him, moved to reveal a book he had hidden behind his back. He showed it to you, a grimoire filled with old magic and you would rather not have laid eyes on.

"It is amazing," he started, "what information you can find in a book." He opened it up, flipping to a page with a self-satisfied grin. "And it appears to me that the Malum are creatures that come from the Endless called Desire."

Your eyes widened slightly at his revelation, a confirmation of what you suspected he'd figured. He knew. He knew who you were, what you were.

He knew the Malum were beings made from Desire, beings who granted desires to those who asked. He knew how to summon you, he knew how you granted desires, and he knew how to force you to give it.

"So I am right?" he chuckled, closing the book loudly. You clenched your jaw. He shook his head, no sign of annoyance in his face as he smiled triumphantly, confidence oozing from him.

"That's alright. I don't need your words." He pulled a pocket knife, small and ornate with small details made with golden design. He set the book down, out of your reach. "I only need your pain," he said as he knelt. He took your right arm in his, forcing the chains up to reveal the inside of your wrist. He just needed the confirmation as he revealed to him the dark little marking of an apple's silhouette.

You tried to scoot away, but he was stronger with your chains on. He grasped your arm tighter, pulling you toward him.

For a moment, for a reason you could not explain, your eyes found Dream. And, in that moment, your eyes pleaded for aid you both knew he could not give. He raised his hand against the glass, wanting to reach you, to help you. But he just watched, lips parted in regret as Burgess' blade sliced a small incision in your skin. A few droplets of blood seeped from the wound, pooling there but hardly dripping in a more merciful wound than you knew he was capable of.

You winced at the slight pain that bloomed there. "Let's start small, shall we?" he wondered, sliding his knife back into his pocket. He held your arm in a vice grip, squeezing it in a way that allowed more blood to bubble from the wound. He looked at you, his icy gaze sending a tremor through your spine.

"Give me the riches that I asked from him when he wouldn't give it." A sickening smile spread over his lips. "This is my desire."

You felt as he forced the magic out of you. He saw the flash of crimson in your eyes, a signal that his desires were being granted to him. He let go of you, dropping your arm carelessly with a force that shoved you to the ground.

"That's more like it."

You glared at him, holding your arm to cover the wound. You brought your hand up to see the flood staining your fingers before covering the wound and looking at him. "I cannot bring back your son. I don't have the power."

"I know," he promised. "But I have use of you yet."

With that, he left you behind to sit on the cold floor. You looked at your arm again, watching the blood smear.

Your eyes met Dream again, his gaze softer than you expected as a bubbling anger lay beneath them. You looked back down to the ground, shrinking under his gaze.

You let out a long breath and laid down on the cold floor, your mind racing with everything that has just happened in merely a few minutes.

And what might continue to happen to you for what felt like a long time to come.

~

You recognized you were caught in the remnants of a dream as soon as you saw it. You recognized Dream even quicker, the way he stood among the meadow uncharacteristically placed within your sleeping mind. You moved to stand next to him, sighing gently. You breathed in the scent of open freedom, you could almost smell it.

He stood silently next to you, his cloak flowing in the imaginary breeze, hands stuffed in his pockets. You both stayed like that, standing next to each other in silence as you enjoyed with him what you believed to be the first dream he has entered since his capture.

The guards never slept for fear of his escape, but you could never escape, so you had that freedom at least. Sweet, sweet dream.

"Will they come for you?"

His words were deep and bellowing in a voice smooth as sweet vermouth. But you shook your head, looking out onto the horizon you longed to see again in person.

"No one will come for me."

"Not even Desire?"

A gentle chuckle rose from your chest, and you shook your head. "They either do not care or have too many Malum to notice that I'm gone." You ignored the sinking feeling in your chest at the reality of your words. "I am alone."

He hummed deeply. "Perhaps not entirely."

You looked over at him, and he finally looked at you. A slow smile spread over your lips before you turned away again. Both your gazes fixed on the setting sun in your dream, the time you had left.

"What is your name?" he asked.

You thought for a moment before you told him, granting him another glance. Dream repeated it, staring across the landscape to compare it to the sunset.

"I am truly sorry for the life to come," he said. If you hadn't been listening, you would have missed how deeply his sincerity reached.

You hummed in response, nodding gently before turning your body to look at him. He tilted his chin toward you, but continued to face the horizon.

You tilted your head and smiled. "What is it you desire?" you questioned, examining each detail of his face with a new appreciation to his beauty.

"Our freedom." He put it simply, inclining his head away from you and toward the sky. You hummed and examined the splotches of pink on his pale cheek.

He spoke again, a new edge to his voice as his steely gaze hardened on the sun. "And to rain vengeance on those who would dare to take it."

You smiled, mischievous and satisfied as you turned back toward the sunset, which had almost disappeared from view. You took a leap, hooking your arm through the crook of his still left open and taking a step closer into his side. You didn't look at him as you did so, opting to avoid any unwanted looks that may be waiting for you if you did (although, there were none to be found).

"One day," you promised.

~

Two years later, your promise had still been unfulfilled. But Burgess' was.

Burgess had desire after desire, each more selfish than the last as he granted himself riches and wealth and power and fame. Soon, he opened the offer to those appointed at your guards. Some of them were more than happy to exploit that offer, to take from you their own selfish desires and expose them to be the cruel beasts you had always known them to be.

One day hope came, and it seemed as though men were all too eager to prove their evil.

All you heard was the frantic flapping of feathers, loud and beating as you slowly sat up from the icy ground. A bird flew into the cellar, a white bellied raven who beat and tapped against Dream's cage. His eyes glittered, sparking with a sense of joy you had yet to see on him until then. And, for the first time in years, he smiled. He watched her, watched her struggle to free her master—her friend—from his containment.

But you saw Alex. You saw him and Burgess and the guards at the door as he held a shotgun tight within his grin. You moved without thinking, reaching toward the bird to grab her attention before the unspeakable could happen. But your chains ripped your hands back down to the ground as you tried to move, willing your body to get closer and protect her.

You let out a shout, drowned in the sound of a thunderous gunshot. The blood spattered along the glass, red dotted your face and skin. You stared wide eyed at the animal shot dead on the cold, hard ground. The chains shuffled as you tried to reach out to take her after coming from your statue-like state.

The movement and the sound startled Alex, too sudden and too much for his adrenaline packed mind as he suddenly pointed and shot at the first moving target he saw. A shout clawed its way out of your throat, falling back against the ground from the force of only a few of the bullets lodging into your flesh. He'd mostly missed.

You lay on the ground, breathing thickly as your head swarmed with signals that shouted Pain! Pain! Pain! Blood pumped loudly in your ears, your heart thumping heavily to try to focus on what to do in response without the use of your hands.

You couldn't hear anything of what was going on. Your pulse was too loud, your heart thunderous. It took your mind a long time to clear before you could gather enough thought process to shift enough to be able to bring your hands to your right shoulder, where the most pain was coming from.

You looked down, watching the blood stain your dress. Moments later, a woman came toward you with a case at her side. She was dressed in white from head to toe as she set down the white case in front of you. The Burgess' were gone, only Dream and the guards were left. You had not noticed them leave, or the guards sit, or the nurse even come in.

She knelt beside you and began working to fix your wounds. You were too useful to Burgess for you to die, weren't you? No, he would be keeping you. A gunshot wound from his sun was just an inconvenience. You would be spared for the use of more torture later on.

Your hazy gaze met Dream's teary eyes after a moment, your brain too slow to process too long a look as you stared at him, committing him to memory like you had done so many times before.

~

Night had taken over. You were sitting in your poorly cleaned spot, staring at the chains shackled to your wrists as you tried not to move too much. Your shoulder was plagued by sharp pain, stitched and patched to let it heal. You were trying to fall asleep, to rest so that you could at least spend a short dream with your fellow captive, but the pain was too great.

The guards had stepped out of the room, something about a smoke break. It was late enough that they would not be caught neglecting their duties if they stepped outside for a few moments.

When you heard the door open, you suspected the guards. You were wrong as the soft, slow footsteps of Alex Burgess resounded along the room. Both your gazes dragged up to him, darkened and dangerous, daring him to come closer.

He was holding a plate in his hand. You can smell the fragrance of the fruit on the plate as he takes slow, hesitant steps forward. His face is drenched in sorrow and regret, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"I thought you might like something to eat," he mumbled when he had enough courage to speak.

You tilted your head and said nothing. His eyes shifted between you and Dream before he finally took slow steps to get to you. He sat just outside of your reach to set the plate down, scooting it over for you to take.

You looked down at the plate, sliced honeycrisp apples.

"I don't know if," he trailed off, looking between you and the fruit and adding another regret to the mix, "if you like apples..."

Your gaze finds him again.

He sighed hopelessly, thinking through his next words. "I'm sorry...for what I did." His gaze lifted to Dream for only a moment, his glare far too intense for Alex to withstand. "To both of you."

He was met with no cooperation, only silent stares.

He swallowed thickly. "What can I do?" He winced at that question, realizing his mistake as soon as it left his mouth. "Nothing, I suppose."

You sighed, licking your lips as you thought about how to put your thoughts into words. You leaned forward, unblinking as you watched a flash of hope cross his face at the prospect of you answering him.

"You fucking shot me."

He winced at your words, and that satisfied you enough. You leaned back, sighing as you felt the request from his desire seething beneath the surface. You tilted your head, scowling at him as you whispered like you were telling a secret. "That hurt."

He thought for a moment before surmising, "You want me to claim my desire..."

"That's all men care about: their own selfish desires," you looked him up and down with a huff. "Claim it and leave me, I have nothing to say to you."

He shook his head, staring at his lap to avoid your harsh eyes. "I don't want to claim it."

"You have to," you snapped.

There was silence as he contemplated an idea before speaking it aloud. "Could I...Could I wish for your freedom?"

Your eyes widened slightly at the idea, but you nodded anyway. "You could," you put it simply.

He scooted forward, looking down at your chains to pick them up in his palms. "I want to," he breathed.

"Then say the words."

"I will," his voice was urgent. Then a sobering thought crossed his mind, and you knew you had lost him. He looked up from the chains and at you once more, apprehension heavy in his eyes.

"But how do I know you won't come after me?"

"..." You stared blankly at him.

"I want you to promise," he nearly whispered. "Promise you won't hurt me—or m-my father."

You opened your mouth slightly, but no words came out. You stared.

"Please," he begged. "I don't want to trap you here, but I can't have you taking revenge to hurt us. Me."

You shook your head, his words sour on your tongue as you leaned a little more away from him. You looked down at your shackles, over to Dream's prison.

You huffed out a breath, eyes darkening. "You will get what's coming to you," you promised. "That is my desire."

He shook his head, blinking, "I'm sorry. I can't."

You hummed, leaning forward until you were invading his personal space. Your lips curled in disgust as you looked his face up and down.

"Selfish."

He refuted meekly, "I'm trying to protect my family."

"You're trying to save yourself," you disagreed, sitting up straight again.

He was frantic, desperate to prove he wasn't selfish and greedy like his father as he shook his head. He leaned forward, perching atop his hand and reaching out to you, hoping to change your mind about him. "No. No, that's not true."

The door opened, the two guards returning. Alex turned away from you quickly at the shock of being caught.

"Alex, what are you doing here?"

Was it necessary? Probably not. Could it have gone better? ... Probably not. But you did it anyway.

You leaned forward while he was distracted and clamped your teeth down on the hand extended to you. It was more rage-filled than it was plan-filled.

Alex startled, trying to remove you from him, but your grip was too tight. You only let go when your ears rang and a horrible pain bloomed from your arm. You stumbled back, stifling your shout into a pained moan as you closed your eyes shut. Alex stumbled to his feet.

The guard who shot you just sighed and rolled his eyes. "A fucking holiday," he spat. "That's my fucking desire. God, I hate this job." He mumbled the last part to himself, shaking his head as he moved to sit. He threw his feet on the desk and tossed his gun, which clattered metal on metal.

Alex watched you grasp at your arm, eyes shut tight and mouth filled with air to keep the sounds in. The bullet missed, just grazing your arm, which was now leaking blood that stained your hands and your clothes once more. The other guard sighed, exhausted, "Go get the nurse, Alex. Shit."

Alex's eyes lingered on you a while longer before looking back up to Dream. Their eyes locked for merely a second before he was rushing away from eyes filled with angry blackholes that bore into his soul.

You tried not to cry, you tried to keep it all in. You should not—you could not—appear weak in front of these people. But you had been shot twice in one day, and you were well-beyond your limit.

You hid your face in your knees, your body dissolving into shuddered breaths and a few escaped whines as the tears fell without your consent.

Dream's heart squeezed in his chest, his throat tight as he watched you. He didn't have to watch, he could have just looked away and ignored you. But how could he? How could he leave you to suffer alone? He simply could not, he would not.

And for a moment, your red-rimmed eyes locked across the room and you saw the promise in his gaze. He raised his hand to the glass, setting his palm against the cold prison. You set your chin on your knees and stared back.

~

Your witty comments had become far more scarce in the years to come. After your assault against Alex and, quite frankly, mostly for your sarcastic remarks and the exasperation they brought Burgess, he had further reduced himself to fitting you with a muzzle. The leather of the constricting piece of wear was constantly covering your mouth, keeping you from speaking your mind with more than eye rolls, sighs, and muffled mumbles.

For seventeen years, you wore that muzzle. It was humiliating, dehumanizing, and just downright uncomfortable. Some old scars healed, more took their places, but your gunshot wounds were embedded too deeply within your skin to be removed. You had to live with them now. They were a part of you. They always would be.

The days have begun to drone together, long and tiring periods of time from sunup to sundown. A day for an immortal was hardly even a blink of time, sure, but a day of suffocating monotony, filled with pain and torture and more boredom was a lifetime of its own.

Sleep was far and few as time passed, and you missed finding what felt like just a few minutes talking to Dream and listening to the rich honey of his voice. Mostly, you just sat there and waited for the end of another continuous day. Sometimes, you spent hours staring at Dream, mapping him out in your mind. Other times, he stared at you, mapping you out in his mind (and sorrowing in the many scars you have gathered over the years). Sometimes, you watched each other and got lost in the many stories hiding behind the eyes of the other immortal.

As Burgess' steps sounded down the halls before he even reached the door, you noticed the difference in urgence as he thrust his presence into the room with his overbearing stature. He ignored you as he had done for years, except for the days when he actually decided that he wanted your forced service, and made a beeline for Dream's cage.

He was quiet for a while, examining him and disregarding you like a grain of sand on his boot or speck of lint on his expensive coat. "The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune," he finally admitted, leaning on Dream's dome with one hand as he supported his weight on his cane. You snorted, but he ignored you with the roll of his jaw in favor of continuing to speak to a very unyielding Dream. "She's also robbed you. She's taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby."

"Now, I can unlock this, you can go after her...if you give me what I've been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality." You rolled your eyes at his tedium, but found a sense of pleasantness rising in your chest as his frustration creeped into his voice. "Oh, you're a god. These things are nothing to you."

There was a long pause as he continued to bore into Dream's face. "Don't you want your weapons and your freedom?" Dream tilted his head but gave no other response.

Burgess' anger got the better of him, and he lost his composure. Impatient, angry. "Speak to me! Speak to me! Speak to me!" He punctuated each word with a sharp strike at the glass with his cane, making his rage quite evident. "Come on! Speak to me!"

You began to laugh, unable to contain your elation at his complete lack of control. The bubbling sound was muffled by the muzzle, but your joy was obvious and his frustration ran deeper. He turned to you quickly, finally paying you mind after so long barely sparing you a sidewards glance. "What's so funny?"

You just raise your brow at him, your smirk covered as you gave him an answer that only hastened his impatience and rage. He walked over to you, ripping the muzzle from over your head. You flexed your jaw, stretching it out and getting used to the feeling of being able to use it again. It wasn't often he was annoyed enough to allow you to trick him into letting you speak and worsen his personal experience with celestials.

You tilted your head, smiling at him slyly. "I enjoy watching you squirm," you admitted.

He wasn't in the mood for your sharp comments and contemptuous attitude. But, to be fair, he was never in the mood. It only added to your fun. He leaned forward, invading your personal space as he curled his fist into the neckline of your dress and pulled you forcefully to him. "Then you must love a bullet in your pretty little skull, too. I will put one there."

You tilted your head, unphased by his constant harshness as you gave him a tearful smile. "Aww, you think I'm pretty." His face screwed up in half-disgust, half-vexation. You shrugged a shoulder, "Either way, you won't."

He stared at you long and hard before letting you go in favor of towering over you from your spot on the ground. "What makes you so sure?"

You gave him a smile, a shit-eating grin, before answering his question. "You already found use of me. You won't give me up so quickly." if you could have tapped his nose, you would have as you scrunch your nose up to feign awe. "You like me."

His disdain was clear. "I wouldn't be so sure. I can just as easily replace you. There are hundreds of you." He gestured toward you with his cane, pressing it to your chest and shoving you down. You sat back on your elbows and raised a brow.

You hummed, shrugging a shoulder, "Thousands, actually."

He was fed up, his voice raising in his irritation. "Do you want to die? Because I can certainly help with that very easily, pesky demon."

You laid down on your back, closing your eyes shut as you feign hurt and sorrow, bringing the back of a chained hand up to your face and over your forehead. "Oh, ouch. Owie!" you cried. "You called me a demon. Whatever shall I do?"

Dream's lips nearly curled at your show of dramatics. You smirked and rolled your eyes and flailed your arms as much as you could, having a field day in making this man's life a living hell in return for all the hell he'd brought down upon you.

But Burgess had had enough, and Dream's entertainment was gone just as quick as the old man raised the cane above his head, ready to put you back in your place for however long the beating lasted (it would likely only be a few seconds of silence before another regrettable remark fell from your lips). You raised your hand to protect yourself, turning toward the ground to shield your face from his upcoming blow and nearly cowering with panic.

Alex, ironically, came to your rescue, snatching the cane and stopping its descent as he caught Burgess' attention. "It's alright, father!"

"Get away from me," Burgess insisted, twisting out of his grip. "If you were any kind of son to me–" He swung his cane at the boy, but he simply dodged it. They fought for a moment as Alex scrambled not to get hid with the hard stick before he caught it again with another firm grip. "If Randall were alive today–"

"If Randall were alive, he would hate you as much as I do."

Burgess huffed curtly, forced Alex away from him and not anticipating his refute. He stumbled back, losing balance as he was pushed away suddenly. His head smacked against the glass quite loudly, causing you to flinch slightly at the sound, and he grunted. He brought a hand back to see the blood smeared on his fingers. He slumped to the ground barely a distance from you.

You stared down at him, solemn and unfeeling as your cold gaze glared into his fading one. His eyes were wavering between the two of you, immortal beings watching a miserable mortal life come to an end. He shook his head, wasting his last remnants of life on resentment and contempt. "You're never getting out of there," he said, eyes drifting. "Never."

His gaze stuck on you as you watched him fade, watched the life drain from his eyes and become a void of death and emptiness. You leaned forward, your lips curled in a scowl as you stared at his face that has more feeling in death than it ever did in life. Under your breath, leaking venom and bitter toxins, you spoke to his corpse.

"This is my desire."

You spared him one last glance before disregarding him forever. Alex backed away from his father's body, disoriented and dazed as the shock sunk in and muddled his mind. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it and looked around with confused eyes. Alex's gaze found Dream's, and something happened.

Dream stood in his glass dome. His lean body stretched tall as he reached out toward the glass. The boy's eyes focused on him, beholding his power with a special kind of reverence. He reached out for him.

The guards, who had flocked to Burgess, were nervous as they watched the scene play out. "Don't do it, sir," he begged, ignoring the glare you shot at his interference. "He'll kill us." Alex didn't listen, lost in Dream's will as he continued to allow himself to be drawn by his glory.

"What would your father say?"

And, just like that, Alex stopped. Reality came crashing down on him all in one moment as he returned his hand to his side. He backed away from the glass with a deep frown embedded into his face. "I need to think."

Alex swiftly turned and left. You dropped your head in a sigh, but felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the realization that this tyrant of a man was gone. But you would have to suffer with the remnants he left behind in a son conditioned to obey, one conditioned to fear.

You shared a long glance with Dream before monotony returned to you once more.

~

"Oh, my God."

The voices roused you from your shallow rest as you slowly sat up to see who had just entered the cellar. You rubbed at your eyes and blinked a couple of times as you took a breath in, watching as Alex and a boy walk in, his guests looking between you and Dream with wide eyes and a face a mix of terror and wonder. "Alex?" he muttered, unbelieving as his eyes saw.

"Hello," Alex greeted the both of you instead. "This is my friend, Paul." You looked him up and down, taking in the sight of him and deciding whether or not you would waste your breath. Alex turned. "Paul, these are our unwilling guests."

He stared, unbelieving as he took in the sight of you. You tilted your head at him when his gaze fell on you, furrowing your brows as you looked him up and down. When Alex spoke again, it was to you and Dream again with another plea for peace.

"Look, we've been talking, Paul and I, and if I let you out, will you promise not to harm us?" he asked. His insistence had faded slightly, past attempts returning to his mind as he knew that you still would not budge on your position. "If you could just speak to us," he urged.

You both stared blankly at him, not giving even the slightest hint of aid. The last sparks of Alex's hope flickered behind his eyes as he shook his head. "You see, I told you."

Paul refused to give up so easily. "I'm telling you, you have to keep trying." He drew straws in his attempt to persuade Alex to persuade you. He motioned toward you, "Or claim your desire to set them free."

You raised a brow, turning your head at his suggestion. Alex was quick to shake his head, "No, they'll hurt us."

Paul kept trying. "Show them that they can trust you. Show them that you mean it."

Alex's eyes turned back to the both of you once more. That same gleam of hopefulness fills his gaze again as he steps forward. "I do mean it," he promised. "Just promise that you won't harm me or Paul, and I will let you out."

And even as his plea rang through the air with a special kind of desperation, you didn't give him what he wanted. You did not give him what he desired. So Alex gave up, head hung low and defeated as he muttered his sad response to Paul. He finally accepts it, turning to leave with Alex.

You licked your bottom lip. "Paul." He turned around quickly at the sound of your voice, eyes wide as he heard you for the first time. You gave him a smile, small and gentle. "I want to ask you a question."

He glanced between you and Alex before clearing his throat and responding with the nod of his head. "Um...yes?"

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just above a whisper. "What is it you desire most in this world?"

He was caught off guard by your question, raising a hand to the back of his neck. He scratched it before shrugging limply. "I... I don't know."

"Come now," you chuckled. "There must be something?" When he didn't answer you, you began listing off suggestions. "Wealth? Fame?" You noticed his eyes shift between you and Alex again. "Love?" You put special emphasis on the word. "You only need to wish it, and I will give it...as an exchange for our freedom, of course."

Paul sighed, stepping back again with the shake of his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't."

Paul turned his back on you. Your gaze found Alex again, a knowing look piercing his gaze as the word formed in your mouth but did not articulate into the space between you. "Selfish."

Alex looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet before he shook the word off his shoulders. "Come on, Paul," he breathed. "Let's go. This was useless."

And they both left you alone to swap out one captor for another.

~

"I miss this place." You looked around the little apartment, dark tones and paintings depicting scenes of passion or agony. Deep reds accented the rooms of the small home, rugs and curtains and trims on furniture. You sat on the plush couch in the tiny living room, reaching for the mug on the coffee table with an apple painted on it. You turned it in your hands, smiling at it as you showed it to Dream. "I love symbolism," you confessed, like it was some naughty secret you were telling him to keep quiet.

"Your home?" he wondered, glancing around the overall tidy apartment and ignoring the bra hanging from a lamp shade. You noticed it and threw it under the couch with an off-handed request for him to forget he saw it—not out of embarrassment, but more out of consideration for his comfort level.

You shrugged a shoulder at his question, "Away from home." You pat the spot beside you to offer him a seat, giving him a teasing smile. "Don't worry, everything's clean." You shoot him a playful look, "For now." And then you winked.

He knew it was a joke, it was just in your nature, but he didn't laugh. You didn't seem very phased by his lack of amusement. You had been trapped with him long enough to separate his stoic amusement from his stoic boredom or disappointment.

He sat next to you, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his coat. He was quiet, as usual, looking around the room with curiosity to see what it was you used to live like.

You watched him look around, examining the slight shifts in his face at the information he was taking in with each little detail your brain managed to rebuild in your little illusion. "Do you miss the Dreaming?" you asked after a while, tilting your head.

He glances at you, but his gaze did not stick. "Constantly," he responded after a long break of silence. He removed his hands from his pockets to fidget with his long, slender fingers. His brows furrowed in deep concentration. "This is the closest I get."

You fell silent, rubbing your hands together before sinking further into the couch and turning your body to see him clearer. "What was it like?"

You saw the slightest tilt of his lip into a smile. "The stars were everywhere, countless," his eyes gleamed with remembrance. "So many planets and moons. The most precious of flowers, the tallest of trees. The rivers sang, and the oceans were mighty. Life was everywhere." His words were so poetic, distant liberation shining in his gaze as he remembered the feeling of the Dreaming's sun on his skin, the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, the joy of the dreams that resided in his realm.

You sighed, sitting back and staring at the lamp casting a golden glow over the room. "It sounds perfect," you muttered, imagining the paradise he'd explained to you.

You looked at him again, your gazes lingering for too long before you took in the room again. You shook your head quickly and slid off of the couch so you were sitting on the floor, your arms propped up on your knees and your face in your hands. "This is dangerous."

Dream looked around, watching the warmth and intimacy of the room disappear into the cold, sterile echo of the cellar they had spent decades trapped in. You were chained again, wearing the same shabby dress and covered in your scars once more. Dream's prison is gone, leaving the room empty of everything but you and your shackles.

You sat on the cold floor, tugging at the metal bolted into the floor. "All this reminiscing," you shook your head and faced Dream again, "we can't keep doing it."

Dream walked over to you, his steps slow. He knelt in front of you, reaching for your hands. He took them, tracing his thumbs over the back of your palms. He reached down, his fingertips brushing the searing chains. They clattered to the floor, and he took your hands to slowly stand with you again.

He held your eye contact until you were turning away from him again. "I keep wasting my dreams with this illusion of freedom, instead of just accepting the reality of things."

Your eyes found the wall, and Dream quickly realized that the door that served as the only exit was gone. Come to think of it, Dream hadn't seen a door in the wall or windows behind the curtains of your apartment living room before.

"We're never getting out of here."

Dream's frown deepened. "There is always hope," he tried.

"Not now there isn't," you shook your head. "It's just you and me. Alone and powerless."

Dream stood in front of you, invading your space as he towered over you, his chest nearly touching you. His eyes stared at you. From so close, you can see how magnificent they really are in the light of dreams. A thousand galaxies, infinite stars glittering with the hope he tried to give to you.

"We are not alone," he said. He was so close, you could feel his words on your cheeks.

You watched him closely, taking in his endless beauty. Your lips parted, and you held your breath. You stepped forward, raising a hand to his chest.

Dream stepped back, ducking his head almost bashfully, like a scolded child. He was soft when he spoke again, you thought he might stutter. "I only meant that–"

You stepped forward again, throwing your arms around his neck and just staying there. Your face buried in the crook of his neck as you relaxed against him, sighing gently and holding him tight.

Dream stood there, arms awkwardly at his sides and eyes wide with shock. It took him a long time to catch up, to get over his surprise and realize what this was. A hug. You were hugging him, seeking comfort in an embrace meant only for him. "I know what you meant."

Slowly, but surely, he raised his arms to hug you back, holding you close and leaning into your comfort. He sighed, pulling away after too long and risking a curled finger under your chin. "We will get out," he promised, putting his hand back down by his side. "Have hope, little apple."

You smiled slyly at him, your teasing remarks returning a little with a gentle laugh. "You got a nickname for me now, dreamer?"

He hummed, and you could see the traces of a smile on his lips. You felt your heart swell in your chest. You could have sworn you saw Dream's eyes flicker to your lips. You could have sworn you saw his hand raise to your cheek. You could have sworn you saw him lean in close...

~

Alex chose to remain ignorant. Every day, he and Paul came down to bargain their safety for your freedom. Every day, they were rejected and sent away until the day came where your revenge would rain down on them all.

The guards were not kind. Hardened by unethical work, they ignored Alex's orders not to hurt you. When he wasn't looking, when he turned his back and closed his eyes, they would be there with a new desire of their own to pull from your skin.

The years passed and the torture continued with you being scarred by greedy men and Dream having to watch, powerless to help. Years turned to decades and decades turned to a century.

Alex got older, and as time passed, he still had not sired an heir to ensure you stayed locked up. With no Burgess to stay in charge, the guards would likely discuss amongst themselves who would take on the role. Who would continue to torture in the name of fame and wealth and power. That made you restless, worried for what was to come when ignorance was returned to cruelty.

You feared how much the future could become.

"I could have asked you for wealth, like my father did."

Your attention was caught again by the voice of Alex Burgess, elderly and confined to a wheelchair. He looked tired, exhausted by life's hardships. Most of which consisted of a silent god and a snarky demon (although, you were not technically a demon) trapped in his basement.

"But all I wanted was to be free of you," he said, the dejection clear in his tired voice. "Surely, you want that, too."

Paul placed a hand on his shoulder, the golden ring on his finger flashing slightly. His worry translated through his words as he shook his head. "Alex, darling, please."

There was a silence as Alex acknowledged his husband's words with a gentle nod. "Take me upstairs, Paul." He sighed and turned toward you and Dream again, "I won't be coming down here again."

It was a farewell, your last chance to claim his offer before you never saw him again and were stuck to be tossed over to your next captor. Paul wheeled Alex's chair away, turning it as it creaked slightly. Then he paused in the middle of a step as he turned to look at the floor. You followed his gaze to where the golden seal surrounding Dream's cage was now broken.

Your lips parted as the sight brings a swell of hope to you. It was happening. It was really happening. You would be free as Paul's gaze lifted again to meet Dream's.

It was purely an accident, breaking the seal. But upon that accident, Paul figured that it was one last deed in service to something much more powerful than him. Laying an issue to rest instead of letting it fester into something terrible that the world could never imagine.

He walked away, leaving the two of you alone for the last time. You looked at Dream, your eyes meeting as a promise he made to you decades ago echoed in your mind.

"What is it you desire?"

"Our freedom. And to rain vengeance on those who would dare to take it."

Dream nodded to you in acknowledgement of your new opportunity for freedom. It was so close, you could taste it as the doors were closed with a loud clunking noise. You could hear the guards beginning to chatter about something, little remarks about "draculas" and "demons". You almost rolled your eyes. Why did everyone assume you were a demon?

But you were preoccupied with Dream. He shifted his body, adjusting himself so that he was leaning against the glass, crouched down like he was hunting something. His eyes dangerously trained on the guards, who remained entirely unaware of the threat that had begun to stalk them. You watched as one of the guards yawned, being taken by sleep under the dark influence of Dream's power while the other droned on about a vacation.

Trapped in vivid hallucination, the guard stood to his feet with his gun in his hands and approached swiftly. He aimed it at the glass and shot, a look of complete terror grasping his features as the other rushed toward him. You turned and shielded yourself uselessly from the fire, though you were never touched by the bullets.

As soon as the glass shattered, Dream was free and a blinding light burst into the air. Wind raged and whistled as Dream's power dominated the space between them. He ignored the shouts of the guards as he climbed out of his prison, tall and stalking.

Dream, without breaking the gazes of the guards, knelt down and took your shackles in his hands. They simply clattered to the floor, as though they were nothing, and he set you free. You could have cried! Finally being able to rub away the cold bite of the metal that had been searing into your skin for a century. Your wrists were bruised, the nastiest of colors left behind due to years of captivity. You almost could not see the apple on your wrist, discolored and discernible.

But you were free. Your power had returned. You could claim your own desires.

Dream dealt with the guards, knocking them unconscious with a fistful of sand. With wind still whistling in the air, Dream turned to you, his face fallen in solemnity. "The boy is mine," he demanded, and you were in no position to disagree.

You smiled at him and gave him a simple nod. "All yours."

Dream's gaze lingered on you for a moment too long before he allowed himself to be taken by the blinding power source that had been a portal. The blaring lights dismissed and left you in the cold cellar once again. But instead of being chained to the floor, you were the one chaining them up, confining every guard in the manor to this room and rendering them useless to stop you with the whisper of a command and a kiss to your wrist.

As you looked over them all, you could not help the sense of pride swelling in your chest. It felt good to be the most powerful being in the room again (or at least having power enough to be able to say so). Most of them looked around, dazed and confused to figure out where they were and how they got there. You walked toward the two sleeping guards, the ones knocked out by Dream, and slapped each of their cheeks to wake them.

They shook their heads, coming to before they finally saw you standing in front of them. "What the...?" the man asked, brows furrowed in confusion before a look of fear flashed behind his face. You smiled at the influence you were seeing in his eyes.

You backed away from him, looking over everyone staring nervously at you. "What are you going to do?" one brave soul finally asked you, voice trembling.

You thought about what you were going to say carefully before the words left your mouth. "Desires are dangerous things, you know," you began. "It's so interesting how men forget that your greatest desires are just reflections of your greatest fears."

"So?" She was the current guard's partner, the one who'd tried to stop him from freeing Morpheus. Your talk of "men" and their desires made her question whether or not she was even supposed to be there, you supposed.

"So," you exaggerated, "I know the deepest, darkest desires that lay in your hearts, and the hearts of all those that pierced my skin to obtain their selfish wants." You smacked your hand against your forearm to accentuate your point. You sighed, "You see, I personally believe in an eye for an eye policy, but that would take far too long, and I'd rather be anywhere but here. So instead..." Your expression shifted, turning into something much darker and much more dangerous than anywhere could have ever imagined seeing on you. They were used to your snark and sarcasm, not this looming threat that could turn their lives into waking nightmares. That was what they feared of the trapped dream in the basement. But you could be just as worse, it seemed.

Your voice was low, your face fallen in malice and ill-contempt. "To every person who forcefully claimed a wish from me, I lay upon you the curse of a plague made of the very things you fear worse above all else in this world...for as long as Death has planned of the rest of your miserable lives."

One of the staff shook his head and stuttered out the words he tried to say to you, frantic and terrified of your wrath, which was very clear to him as you cursed them. "You can't do this," he pleaded meekly.

You turned to him quickly, your eyes wild and your lips curled in a crazed smile. "But, you see, I can." You brought your wrist to your face and pressed your lips to the bruised apple on your skin. It flared with warmth, its color seeping into a dark red. "Because this is my desire."

Nearly everyone in the room slipped into unconsciousness as your power took its first hold of them. There were only a few of the staff left awake, those who had not committed a crime against you and you had deemed innocent enough to leave be. They stared at you in frantic worry as you simply flashed them a smile and let them go unharmed and uncursed, disappearing like a flickering flame.

It was late. The night had taken hold of this part of the Earth, and there was a small commotion upstairs. Upon finding yourself in the doorway of a room, you leaned against the frame and peered into the room. Alex lay in a bed, twitching and flinching as visions flashed behind his eyes, terrible nightmares cursed to him by Dream as punishment for all the crimes he'd committed during your captivity.

Paul's head was ducked as he clutched Alex's hand, sorrow filled him at the state of his husband. You merely watched, face fallen this time in the same solemnity that Dream had casted to you before he left. Paul stood after a moment, turning around to leave the room for something before stopping short at the sight of you.

Then he stepped forward with a pleading face. "Can you help him, please?"

You turned your gaze toward Alex, still struggling in his sleep, and then back at Paul, unphased and uncaring. Your cold expression pierced his soul and made him shiver. "I probably could," you said, filling him with a false hope that you quickly crush beneath your heel. "But I won't."

He fell to his knees as you pushed yourself off the door frame to stand up straight. He clasped his hands together, shaking his head as his eyes continued to pour tears down his cheeks. "After what I did for you?" he shook his head, unbelieving. "I set you free."

You let silence linger for a moment. "But not soon enough."

"How could you...?"

"Paul," you silenced him, your voice raised a little louder as you spoke. A shudder rushed through him at your tone, and he shrunk into himself. "I was trapped there. For decades, for a century. I was chained in that cellar with no one but a silent cellmate and guards who hurt me to get what they wanted. You were innocent, until you weren't. So, Paul, freer or not, I must have my revenge on the ones who hurt me. I will not interfere with Dream's punishment, but I can take my vengeance through you. And that is exactly what I'm going to do."

He trembled as a silent cry shuddered through him. "What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me?"

You shook your head, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I won't beat you. I won't cut you the way they cut me. I won't shoot you the way they shot me," you told him, tucking your finger under his chin to make him look at you. "But I will claim the desire that is rightfully mine without Alex to claim it for himself."

You dropped your hand from his face and sighed. "For a century, Dream of the Endless was trapped in that cellar with me. For years, he had to watch me bleed without being able to lift a finger to help me." You shook your head, "I won't make you bleed, but I will make you watch as Alex suffers in his slumber for the rest of his life, and there will be nothing you can do about it. You cannot leave this room, you cannot calm his mind. You're helpless, he's hopeless. And it will be like that until Death comes to take whoever is first to perish."

Paul shook his head, wiping at his face to be rid of the tears falling from his eyes and onto his cheeks. "Please. I didn't do anything."

You shook your head gently. "No, you didn't. But he did, and he will know." You raised your wrist once more, whispering your words into the space between you as you sealed your promise with a kiss to your apple. "Because this. Is. My...Desire."

And when Paul blinked, you were gone.

~

It felt like forever since you laid eyes on Dream again. After you parted ways in the cellar, you suspected he had been quite busy repairing his realm and fixing the patches that have risen within humanity. His absence was felt.

But it seemed like yours was not.

You returned to the Threshold after you were freed. Nothing had changed, the sameness was unnerving. A century gone, and a few of the Malum welcomed you back warmly, some were indifferent, and others just could not have given less of a shit that you were gone. When you went to Desire, they greeted you with a smile and good wishes before you were off again. You thought they wanted to show more affection, to prove they cared about what happened to their Malum, but they just didn't want to risk losing their edge.

You understood, it was how all the Malum were. One of the most basic desires in the hearts of humans was love, and the closest most of them ever got to it was sex. You were all born of those desires, and your Endless was a reflection of them, so it was natural for affection to be...minimal in cases of care and concern for the type of relationship between your ruler and their servants.

So you left. You left the Threshold, and you returned to the human world to explore a century of development. It did not take long for you to settle in, despite how different everything had become, more difficult. But you were free. Out of that cellar and out of that life, ready to take on what else the world had to offer you, and that seemed to be a lot.

With your power back, your scars had begun to fade a little more. Some small ones disappeared, but most were whispers of cuts and healed wounds that were hardly discernible from normal flesh. You were back to granting desires, more wary and cautious of every person you granted them to.

It was nice to be back.

After a long day, you were back in your new home. Dark tones and red accents decorated this just as much as the last, but the intimacy was of a different nature. Stepping into the living room with a hot mug in your hands, you let the cool air of night seep into the room through your slightly ajar windows.

You felt the shift in the air and smiled, turning around to see your visitor in the night. "Dreamer," you smiled, sighing gently at the sight of the Endless standing in your living room. His coat was longer, a dark cloak which hung off his shoulder and cast stars in the underside of its trim. You only saw them for a moment before they disappeared. You raised a brow at him, smirking as you spoke into your mug, "Been busy?"

"Quite," he responded, almost amused. His face was not as stern as you had grown used to, much more at ease as he cast his gaze upon you. "How have you been keeping, little apple."

You smiled at the nickname, shrugging your shoulders and moving to sit on the couch in the living room. "I'm wonderful," you told him. "There's fresh air and strong drinks and the smell of sweet, sweet freedom in every day."

He looked around your home as he listened, taking in the comfort and feeling it seep into his body. "I saw how you punished the guards," he said. "Clever. Even in their dreams, they are plagued by nightmares."

You smirked at his subtle praise, chuckling gently. "Thank you. I took a page out of your book."

The corner of his lip turned up in a small smile, so slight, you would miss it if you weren't paying attention. You couldn't help your happy grin at the way he smiled at you. "Now, isn't that a sight?" you muttered.

Dream moved to sit beside you, a little too close as your thighs touched just a bit. "Have you returned to the Threshold since you got out?"

You paused for a moment at the mention of Desire's realm before nodding gently, taking another sip from your cup. "Once. Right after," you hesitated as you thought about it. "It didn't feel the same."

He did not verbally respond, merely nodding his head in a silent agreement as he turned his gaze away. He sighed gently, the sound was almost inaudible. You turned to him with another teasing smirk, "Quite the talker, aren't you?"

There it was again, that little smile that curled the end of his lips. You sighed gently, letting the quiet linger for a while as you both stared again for too long. "Would you like some tea?"

He shook his head, "No, thank you."

"A snack? Perhaps, an apple?" You wiggled your brows at the suggestion, laughing gently when he refused your offer with a chuckle of his own.

"Perhaps not."

You set your mug down on the coffee table and make your way to the kitchen, grabbing an apple from a small bowl on the counter and beginning to slice it up after taking a long sniff of its skin. Your knife cut through the apple with ease as you spoke up again. "So why have you come, Morpheus?"

He breathed out a silent chuckle. He didn't think you knew that name, you had always referred to him as "Dream". But you were just being you, he supposed. He stood from the couch and made his way to join you in the kitchen. "I wanted to see you," he stated blatantly.

You looked up at him and shook your head, laughing gently. "You watched me for a hundred years. You want to see more?" Dream didn't laugh. In fact, his face fell slightly as he looked away from your face. You mentally scolded yourself for your attempt at humor. "Bad joke," you muttered, a silent apology.

He turned his gaze to you again, watching you slice your apple as his eyes caught sight of the scars you thought were mostly unnoticeable. There were plenty of slits, but most of them had gone by now. The tank top you wore offered a perfect view of the bullet scar on your right shoulder and the graze on your left. They were more obvious than the mostly-healed cuts. The bruises around your wrists were mostly gone, too. They were slightly discolored, but you would not notice them unless you were paying far too much time and attention to them.

You looked down to where his gaze had traveled, realizing what he was staring at. "They've healed well," you said. "Some of the scars have gone away without my chains."

Dream reached out, grabbing your hand gently and holding onto it as he stared regretfully, punishing himself all over again for something out of his control. "I'm sorry for what they did to you." His voice was so soft, full of a special kind of sorrow.

You turned to him, "You have no reason to apologize. There was nothing you could do."

He didn't argue with you. He just inspected your scars a little more before bringing his gaze back up to yours. "I could take the scars away," he said after a moment, offering a way to help even after all of this time.

You looked down at them, your eyes glazing over the bullet scars with the shake of your head. "No. I think I'll keep them," you said, looking up at him again with the shrug of your shoulders. "The ones that heal with heal, but..."

"But?" He raised a brow.

You sighed. "I got these scars with you. They mean something to me. I don't want to let it all go."

He fell silent, processing your answer before looking back down at your arms. He let go of your hands, and spoke slowly. "You gave Paul my curse."

You nodded once. "I did."

"Why?"

You stared at Dream, bringing your hand up to his cheek to brush his skin for a moment before pulling away. "You watched them abuse me. You didn't have to look, but you did every time so I never felt alone...but I know that it hurt you, too. I didn't want you to be alone," you confessed. "Alex will share my pain while he endures your punishment. He will have to continue on knowing that the one he cares about most will have to watch him suffer every minute of every day, and there's nothing he can do to change it."

Dream blinked, thinking about your response. "The one he cares about most..." he echoed, making your cheeks heat under the revelation of his words but discarding it.

"I do care about you, Dream," you said. "With all that time, how could I not?" Silence lingered between you, heavy in the air but in a way that was comfortable, rather than unnerving as you did that thing where you both just stared at each other for far too long. You licked your lips, "I've never cared about anything the way I care about you. You were there when I was alone. Whether you wanted to be or not, you were there."

He reached out and grabbed your arm, supporting the back of your elbow to just feel your skin. "I'm glad I was there with you."

Your lips twitched in a small smile. You found yourself confessing these words without meaning to, "I lied a little earlier. I'm not wonderful." He tilted his head. "Truth is, freedom is lonely without someone to share it with."

Dream raised his hand from your elbow to your cheek, cupping your face in his hand and bringing you closer to him as he put aside all of his inhibitions in favor of just doing what he wanted to. He kissed you, his lips brushing your and inviting you in a gentle embrace that filled your soul and made your chest swell with affection for him.

You leaned into him, breathing a sigh against his lips as you stepped closer into his space. His hand shifted down to your waist, holding you close to him as you brought your hands to cup the sides of his neck. He pulled away from your lips to lean into your touch, his eyes still closed for a moment before he opened them to take in the sight of you, so close and so entirely beautiful.

He whispered to you, his breath fanning gently over your face. "I want to be your freedom," he confessed, taking your hand and raising your wrist to his lips before setting a gentle kiss to the apple. He stroked your skin, "This is my desire."

You smiled at him, bringing your own wrist to mirror his actions. "Then let it be so." You leaned forward and kissed his lips again as he breathed freedom into your soul.

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