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billthedrake · 5 months

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BIRD IN THE HAND (PART TWO)

John pulled Cole's body closer. The evening had been perfect. John had made sure it was perfect. He'd figured out the jocky dude didn't seem as impressed by the big-money steak houses John had taken him to on their first dates, even though Cole pretended he did. So he booked an Italian bistro place. More buzzy but also romantic. They'd split a bottle of wine, the conversation flowed, they got dessert.

The Congressional Bro was cute as fuck. Cuter than cute. And funny. It had taken the FBI agent a couple of months to get into Cole's offbeat humor, but now he couldn't get enough. John knew he was a very attractive man, but he felt lucky to be out with this guy.

Cole's hand felt up John's chest as they reclined on his sofa, shoes off but otherwise still in their date-night clothes. Cole Walker almost regretted the way the federal agent's quarter-zip sweater and checked button-down hid that magnificent body. And John had one hell of a body.

"Mmmm... you feel nice, buddy," the 47-year-old agent said was he pulled back and took in the cute face of his date. His hands ran up and down Cole's back. He'd only known the guy for a year now but in that time Cole had packed on some more muscle. Nothing too big, but the dude felt heavier lying on top of him now.

"Yeah," Cole muttered. He had almost a frat-bro way of talking when he wasn't in professional mode. He kept it some in check around older men, too, for some reason, but it was coming out now. A contrast to his deep resonant voice. "I missed this, man."

John had been rehearsing what he'd say in his head. He wanted the timing to be right, and this felt as right a time as any. "I know I've not always been there for you, Cole," he said.

That got a surprise quiet from the younger dude. "I've never put any expectations on you," he said softly.

That made John Ricciardi feel guilty. "Maybe you should have," he blurted. "I mean... you deserve a guy who's a lot less standoffish. You're always there when I want you, whenever I call... I know it's gotta go the other way too."

"Okay," Cole muttered. His heard was pounding heavy now. After his time seeing Paul on Wednesday, he's been mulling over a lot before deciding to kick the can down the road. Turns out John wasn't gonna let him.

"So... my last name is Ricciardi," John said. "But you knew that already."

"He told you," Cole replied in a deep blush. He felt mortified to know that both John and Paul knew that Cole had slept with both brothers, repeatedly. But after a dinner date like just now, clearly John wasn't going through the motions. He decided to hear the man out.

John nodded, his eyes a little impish in their gaze. Even if Paul had a certain authoritative sexiness as an advantage of his younger brother, John had insanely smoldering looks, with green-gray eyes that seemed to suck Cole in. And a better, fitter body, even.

"He told me. I won't lie, I've always had this competitive thing with my older brother. I guess my ego was bruised a little."

"Oh John," Cole started in, but the man interrupted him.

"It's OK, buddy. Lesson learned on my end. I didn't tell you what you mean to me, because I couldn't admit it myself. That's on me."

Cole gulped.

John forced a smile and patted the ex-jock's rump. "I know I spoiled the mood, but I was hoping we'd make it back to the bedroom. The offer still stands for you to stay over if you want."

"For real?" Cole had gone into this date expecting a consolation prize, but now that he was face to face with John Ricciardi, in his arms, he couldn't imagine not see this as his boyfriend.

"I won't blame you if you wanna split." John's eyes were vulnerable and a little moist.

Cole's heart raced as he leaned in, and their lips met. There was that brief, taboo thrill that he'd been with two Ricciardi brothers. He'd spent a day or two processing that knowledge, but now, it turned him on. The way he could recognize the men were similar in a lot of ways, similar in personality even if their approach to sex was very different.

John was the better kisser and the way the law man's tongue danced just inside of Cole's mouth gave the younger man a crazy hardon. As they got deeper into the kiss the ex-jock gripped John's arms through the sweater, feeling the meaty biceps and tris. OF the two Ricciardi brothers, John was even more muscular and had incredibly pumped guns.

The older man could read the hunger in Cole's eyes when they parted. "I wanna be inside you, buddy.... now," he growled.

"Right here?" Cole asked with a naughty grin.

"I was thinking..." John started to clarify things but stopped himself. "Hell, we've never done that." The more he thought it over the more fun the idea seemed. Fucking this hottie in every room of his condo. His face got a playful leer on it. "Why don't you go fetch the lube?"

John pawed his crotch as he watched the young stud bound up excitedly. Cole was technically in his mid-20s now but still had that aura of a Georgetown soccer player. The kind of jock type John would jerk off to regularly. Before the apps, before Cole. He'd still masturbate to relieve the pent up need sometimes, but he enjoyed saving his nut for this young man. It just made the sex more powerful and enabled John to go more than one round if Cole was up for it. He usually was.

The kid practically strutted back into the room. Gone were his jeans and he wore only his button-up shirt, the tails of which opened with each step to show that long jock bone. In his hand was the bottle of lube, which he tossed to John.

"I went ahead and applied some back there," Cole admitted. "I didn't think that you might want to rim first..."

John smirked. He would have been OK with it he guessed, but mostly he was turned on by the idea that Cole wanted his cock badly. "No foreplay this time," he chuckled as he undid his own jeans and shucked them down far enough to let his fat boner pop out free.

Cole gasped at the sight. It was a beautiful dick already, but he realized he'd anticipated a look at it to compare it mentally to Paul Ricciardi's cock. Of course before there had been no reason to put two and two together. But now, the family ressemblance was undeniable. Paul and John looked similar enough, he guessed, but their cocks were almost identical.

"No foreplay," Cole repeated back to John, watching the hunky daddy type apply a thin drizzle of lube to his boner and then hold it up.

"If you need to take it slow, sexy..." John hissed.

Cole shook his head. "No way... I've fucking missed your dick."

John winced a little at that. It had been a solid two weeks since his and Cole's last time together. But even if Paul hadn't shared the details, he had a pretty good idea his brother had been buried inside this hottie just a few days ago. There was that jealous side in him, but he kept his ego in check and told himself the best way to win over a perfect guy like Cole was to be the man Cole wanted. He'd just have to figure his way to do that. And if it didn't work, it didn't work.

Cole, meanwhile, wasn't feeling any emotional complications at that moment. He was in heat. The whole week, after his fateful hook up with Paul Ricciardi, he'd been nervous things would be over with John. Or that the sexual chemistry would be ruined. But fuck, this FBI hunk was if anything hornier than ever. That fat cock felt rock hard as Cole sat down on it.

"Oh fuck, buddy," John muttered.

The entry stung a little, but Cole was determined to show off for John, to show the man he didn't always need the slow and gentle approach. He sank down onto that boner, all the way onto John's crotch.

"Jesus," the man said excitedly.

Cole was breathing heavy, almost hyperventilating as a way to deal with the shock to his insides. But fuck, the action had made John Ricciardi's dick feel big and powerful, and Cole fed off that. He'd been embarrassed sometimes by how much he loved to bottom, and he always worried about the way a man like John might think he was slutty or something.

But John's look up at Cole was one of pure lust and appreciation. Normally, he'd be checking in with the stud to make sure he was OK, but he had an intuitive sense this time, the way Cole's breathing quickly got back to normal and the way that jock dick pulsed excitedly. John gripped the soccer stud's thighs tightly and thrust up into the kid.

"Fuck yes," Cole hissed.

"You need that, buddy?" John asked excitedly.

"I do, man. Fuck."

John's thrusts were getting steady and firm. Fucking into this hot young man. As much as he normally preferred a long session with lots of making out, some teasing BJs and a real deep rim job, this was pretty incredible too. The way both men were keyed up for a quick fuck. Cole riding John's lap and bracing his hands on the man's burly chest. But mostly John fucking now, unable to get enough of the sweet slick sensation of Cole Walker's insides.

His brother had felt that too, had fucked the Walker kid, just like he was doing now. Before that would have brought the jealous flashes on, but now it just fed his excitement and the quivering pleasure in his cock. He pushed up into Cole's perfect, young body harder and faster.

"Unbutton your shirt, sexy," he hissed. His fingers now like talon's in Cole's quad muscle. As fun as it was to mate still mostly clothed, John wanted to see the dude he was nailing.

Cole had to steady his balance as his bracing hand left to undo the shirt and open it up. That had the effect of making the ex-jock core contract into a tight washboard ripple.

John fucked faster now, and guided Cole's hips up and down to exaggerate the penetration. This was intense.

"God yeah... fuck me, sir." Cole pleaded.

It was the first time Cole had dropped the s-word and John was surprised how much it turned him on. His eyes took in all of this young man's naked beauty as he felt his orgasm come on.

"Oh shit... cum in me... breed me..." Cole was losing any self consciousness about his bottomy need.

John's hips were a blur. Did Paul fuck the kid like this?

"FUCK!" he cried, loudly.

Cole's face broke into a big excited smile as he watched the lawman get his nut. John Ricciardi was so crazy handsome, but his face became something primal in orgasm.

The man's hips had frozen, locked in place to load Cole up, but Cole's hips undulated gentle against that pulsing hardon, milking out every drop he could.

As that big O began to crest, Cole gripped his own hardon.

It was John's turn to help out, he thrust up into Cole's body, not as hard now, but with enough force to press against that butt nut.

"Harder," Cole asked. More than he anticipate the angle was making his prostate sing.

John got an excited grin as he started going at it again. He had maybe a minute tops before his dick got too sensitive for this. But hopefully it wouldn't take this jock stud a minute.

Cole felt it, he really felt it. That thick Ricciardi prick now a battering ram against his sensitive inner gland. And the sloppy feeling of John's heavy load coating the way. He jerked and felt it coming.

On the spur of the moment he decided he'd try it. Right on the cusp, he let go. John's pounding prick did the rest. Cole was cumming like crazy, the sperm being pushed out of him in heavy jets. There was that intense light headed orgasm again. Maybe not exactly a Paul Ricciardi orgasm, but close.

Only when he came down from the high and regained full consciousness, did he feel mortified by what he'd down.

"Oh fuck, your sweater," Cole said. "Sorry... "

Indeed that preppy-dad style quarter-zip sweater was splotched all over with Cole's seed. Some was on John's handsome face too, which smiled in amusement.

"Ha, it'll wash out, buddy. Anyway, it was worth it. That was totally fucking hot."

Cole leaned back, displaying his body for John. He was with one of the hottest guys in DC and that was some heavy competition. But the 23-year-old knew he had the goods too, knew Ricciardi was crazy about him. "It was hot," he said. "Glad we could mix it up some."

John nodded. His prick was softening now, and he loved the wet sensation of its retreat. "Damn Cole... tell me what I gotta do to keep you. In the bedroom, out of the bedroom... if there's something I can do, I'll fucking do it, OK?"

With another guy John's approach, his emotional neediness would come across as too much. Even with Cole, from another guy it might not have worked. But he climbed off this hunk and felt his heart pound. Maybe it was the sex that hard worn his defenses down. "You know, John, I just want a fucking boyfriend. I don't know how to make that happen even, but fuck, I've been telling myself I don't want one, but I do."

John gave an empathic nod and got up off the couch, too. He was taller than Cole, by several inches and the younger man felt comforted to feel John's strong arms wrap around him and pull him close.

"We'll make it happen, buddy. In a way that works for you. But I'd be honored to be your boyfriend."

Their lips met and they made out, John leaning his head down to claim dominance in the kiss.

"Damn, bud... you hard again?" he finally asked with a chuckle.

"Maybe, yeah," Cole laughed.

John patted the young stud's rump. "All right, let me clean up some of the mess we made and we can take our time for round two."

It would take him a bit to recover and recharge. Maybe even an hour. John Ricciardi was feeling every bit his middle age and maybe had no business being with a 23-year old. But he'd decided he was gonna be every bit of the powerhouse sex stud this young man wanted him to be.

#drakestories

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zilabee · 1 year

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Snippets from Ticket To Ride, by Larry Kane, a reporter who accompanied the Beatles during the 1964 and 1965 US Tours:

- My own positive relationship with the Beatles was formed early on. Despite my cynical scepticism at the beginning, I became a fan, not only of their professional personas and their music, but also of the individuals they were. What impressed me most about all of them was their indisputable naturalness and, to varying degrees, the depth of their humanity and their lack of phoniness. Another unaffected aspect of their behaviour that was special to watch and be around was their relationship to each other.

- At one point on the tour, as I interviewed Brian Epstein, I mentioned how he seemed so protective of the Beatles. "Well, it is a simple proposition," he explained. "They are special. I believe in them. They should not be compromised or taken advantage of in any form."

- The Dallas police brandished their rifles openly; this was the first time in America that the Beatles had seen rifles at the ready. I got the impression that we would be well protected on this leg of the tour, but the raising of rifles only reinforced the anxiety that the Beatles were feeling. The expressions on their faces, their eyes wandering around, gave me the feeling that they were concerned about their safety.

- On the flight to Ohio, the Beatles seemed joyful. Paul walked up and down the aisle, winking that Paul wink and acting as host of the day. At one point, he stopped by some members of the group Exciter and said jokingly, "Coffee, tea or me?" On the plane Paul was also the biggest walker. He didn't like being confined.

- I knew we were in big trouble when the upholstery of the car's ceiling [started] getting lower, closing in on my face. By sheer force, the eager crowd, jumping on and pressing against the roof of the car, was pushing the metal roof into a dent that evolved into a sinkhole.

Ringo's smile was a wonder to watch.

- The next morning I discovered that the Beatles, or someone in their party, had urinated on the carpets of their suite at the Edgewater. This was the apparent 'plan' Lennon had mentioned to have the last laugh - or in this case the last drop - against local merchants who had planned to cut the rug up and sell it.

- I realised for the first time that this sceptical, cynical reporter was beginning to fall for the music of the Beatles. I was even humming out loud along to the tune, and I continued to do so throughout the evening. Was it the repetition, the hearing of these songs over and over, or was the music beginning to stir my spirits? Whatever the reason, listening to the music was making me feel happy. (Aug 64)

- I was curious, "How many of you have tickets?" Only a few raised their hands. Once again, hundreds, maybe thousands for all I knew, were travelling - and travelling without a chaperone - just to get close to the Beatles. Remember, in those days, teenage girls travelling alone without a parent or guardian was unheard of, but on this ride they were legion.

- Watching Brian Epstein watch the Beatles in complete absorption was one of the most educational sideshows of both great tours. He truly loved their music.

- Much has been said about the static between Paul McCartney and John Lennon after the breakup. But on our tours, we saw nothing but a sensitive closeness between all of them.

- Brian Epstein and Derek Taylor were initially prohibited from getting in making them quite upset. Epstein was also furious that day because Ringo wasn't wearing a tie.

- One of the girls got through and made a wild dash for the elevator. She tripped on a rug and fell to the floor, trapped beneath the weight of two cops. It looked like a football scrimmage. The tape of my conversation with the girl is missing, but I will never forget some of her words. She said, "They're all scumbags, those cops. They suck." She got up, dusted herself off, left the hotel and made it to the street, where she received a round of brief applause from her soulmates.

- The flight from Cleveland to New Orleans featured a magnificent pillow fight, with Lennon and Jackie DeShannon leading the combatants. It was fascinating to watch John Lennon leaping up and down the aisle and - with that eager smile and those penetrating eyes - toying with the pillows and his targets like a five year old in a playground. Practically everyone aboard got involved until a flight attendant, giggling uncontrollably, broke it up.

- One vivid image I'll never forget is of an ice-cream vendor who stopped in place, stared at the Beatles on stage in front of the grandstand and started crying. I said to him, "Is something wrong?" He replied, "No, their music just makes me very happy."

Epstein: I'm very much a Beatles fan. I've probably felt everything that any, um, male Beatles fan ever felt. All the various things I've liked, I think, is what the fans have liked, both in their music and their general manner. To me, in terms of popular music, the Beatles express a cross quality of happiness and tragedy. And this is basically what the greatest form of entertainment is made up of. They in fact do original things. Their songs are always new and different. So are their performances.

- Suddenly I heard the smashing of glass and watched the people inside the lobby rushing toward the windows. When I arrived by the windows myself, the scene was ghastly. Three girls were lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from head and facial injuries. A fourth was up on her feet and trying to stop the blood flowing from her knees. The force of the crowd had pushed these kids through the glass.

- One of the press cars, the one I was in, had a brief upside down experience. Overzealous fans mobbed our vehicle, began to shake it wildly, and ended up rolling it over onto its side. We remained stuck inside for several minutes before the highway patrol were able to right us.

- Ivor Davis (on seeing the Beatles meet Elvis): "We stood a few feet away, trying not to make them feel like prize horses at stud being watched over the fence to see if they'll mate."

- The flight to Indianapolis was subdued, but thankfully it was also short and uneventful. […] Travelling down the aisle later, John broke out a big smile and said, "So how are the nameless, faceless, unidentified news whores doing tonight?"

- Paul was the master host, providing a welcome that made the extremely nervous fans at home and comfortable. In Baltimore, I watched three girls and a boy leave the dressing room and, in the hallway outside, break into tears. They were tears of relief and joy.

- In a corner, John sat quietly and reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. He pulled out a thinner cigarette from his pack, a marijuana joint, and thumbed his lighter to start it. But before he was able to light the joint, Brian Epstein took a quick detour away from chatting with me and a few others, walked over to John, and glowered at him, shaking his head. John slipped the object of his desire back into his jacket pocket, pulled out a legal smoke from his pack, and lit up.

- Art Schreiber: "They were lonely, isolated from the world, both on tour and at home. They couldn't go anywhere. Remember, aside from all the fame and glory, they were young men, barely out of boyhood. I've always been a pretty tough reporter when it came to the people I covered, but let me tell you, they were terrific. I actually started feeling close to them. They really opened up. I was also impressed with how bright they were. They knew how to treat people. They were terrific."

- Paul would look left and right, and wink to a face in the crowd. It was a sexy form of eye candy, tantalizing the crowd with his head gyrations. Paul was a world class flirt when it came to the fans. And they loved him back.

Kane: Will you ever be anything but the Beatles? Paul: We are the Beatles, that's what we are.

#tantalising the crowd with his head gyrations!#for some reason Brian being furious because Ringo wouldn't wear a tie was the highlight of the whole book for me #it's a great book for getting a real sense of these tours #you get a real feel of the noise and the chaos #and the boredom #and it's interesting when he talks about the differences between them in 64 and 65 #lots of quotes and bits from people who went to the concerts too #beatles books #the beatles #brian epstein #ticket to ride #larry kane

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 1 year

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read (you can skip parts if you think it is too much). Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Author's note: This was originally planned out as a oneshot, but in the end, I realized I wanted to write more and essentially cover the main events of Season 1. Please note that I don’t really know much about the comics although I’m doing some research, therefore, I can mainly base my knowledge and impressions over the Netflix show.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Chapter 1

The massive Fawney Rig Manor in Wych Cross made you feel as if you had entered a completely different dimension. The structure was very old-looking, with gothic details that, at least from the outside, could give anyone the chills. The first time you visited the Manor you had to swallow your uneasiness and forget about the rumors involving the potentially dark secrets surrounding the house. With a sick father depending on your care and financial support, you found yourself in need of the salary offered by Mr. Alex Burgess.

Your waitress job was far from profitable and you knew they couldn't afford to give you, nor anyone else, a raise at the time. Covering all your expenses each month had become too much for your pockets alone and such a low wage was just keeping the noose around your neck. With Mr. Burgess’s offer, you would receive twice your previous pay, free room and board and a potentially long-term contract that seemed particularly fruitful and just generally ideal for your needs. You couldn’t allow yourself to be picky and miss such a golden opportunity without at least trying, not for a bunch of rumors that could easily be made up.

As soon as you stepped into the entrance hall, you could smell old wood and incense in the air. The interior design was the perfect Jacobean Revival Architectural Style that you were expecting to see and overall it looked way less scary than the exterior part. You were accompanied along a corridor, ancient items and antique furniture could be found at each corner, against every wall. Long flights of stairs reached the upper floor, big curtains were creating divisions in the open space areas.

Different items were meticulously catalogued and arranged everywhere, looking like they were coming straight from 1900, frozen in time.

When you met Alex Burgess and his husband, Paul McGuire, you could feel your nerves finally loosen up. The Lord of the Estate could barely walk, carried around by his spouse on a wheelchair and constantly under medical check. He looked rather frail and definitely less intimidating than you had anticipated, far from the evil mastermind that you had pictured into your head.

In the end, they hired you as one of the housemaids. You couldn't tell if your personal story touched them more than you thought it would, but you got what you were hoping for and you couldn’t be happier. Your inbox was still filled to the brink with unpaid receips from your family doctor, which you still had to pay off.

The day you visited the Estate again for the final agreement, Mr. McGuire gave you a complete house tour to let you acquire some familiarity with the place in advance. It was even bigger than it seemed and the fear of getting lost became quite consistent the more rooms you came across along the way.

After finally moving in, it took you a couple weeks to get used to your new routine. Suffering from insomnia you were quite the light sleeper by nature, but finding yourself in a completely different environment had caused you a bit of destabilization.

The rest of the staff didn’t seem to be particularly interested in acting friendly with you, so the moment you gained enough confidence to go through the house on your own, you didn’t need to worry about striking a conversation anymore.

There were some rooms marked as ‘off limits’, but you had expected as much. Every now and then, you could spot at least one guard or two standing in front of the basement door, a very slim entrance you didn’t even notice at first. There was something big going on down there, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach whenever you passed by, but you promised yourself that you would mind solely your own business and only do what you were getting paid for. You forced yourself to move on and never looked those guys in the eyes.

However, apprehension and curiosity were starting to nib on you. The times they left the door unattended to take care of matters inside, you had to restrain yourself from peeking, just to discover what they were containing that was so important it could not be revealed.

You didn't know what came to you, really. You never were one to mind other people and their business, but something just seemed disturbingly weird and you were having a hard time brushing it off.

The first month at the Manor went through quite smoothly and you were actually starting to appreciate your job as a whole. Mr. McGuire assisted you with the main tasks in the garden, as he used to work there himself before marrying Alex and passing his responsibilities to someone else. Spending time in the open was fun, dipping your fingers into the grass, the earth and the water felt grounding and liberating. It was tiring, yes, but amazingly satisfying and ideal to set your mind off things.

Inevitably, cleaning proved to be exhausting. The first week you had to bear with aching muscles and serious back pains, but nothing that some good rest on your day off could not relieve.

From time to time, they liked hosting parties with a selective number of wealthy guests, with which you had absolutely nothing in common. All you could do was smile, pour them drinks after drinks and listening to their rants or personal stories when alcohol hit them. Nothing particularly interesting or noteworthy, but again, it served as a good distraction and you appreciated the interactions.

Mr. McGuire had become a friendly presence for you in the house, often stopping by for some tea during your breaks. You could see an incredible gentleness sparking into his eyes, but there was something else in the man’s expression that you couldn't quite understand yet. His husband, on the other hand, was barely seen around the mansion. You assumed that his physical conditions were preventing him from leaving the bedroom, so you didn't want to pry.

One night, you were cleaning the coffee table in the living room space, filled with the clutter left by a group of noisy visitors. The basement door was right there beyond the open curtains, guarded by a man and a woman who eyed you up and down when you arrived. As you placed the scattered napkins, empty cigarette packets and dirty wine glasses on a silver tray, you felt their presence even though they weren’t on your line of sight. You thought they wanted to keep you under their radar to be sure you wouldn’t snoop around too much, but as curious as you were, you certainly didn’t want to risk your job for something you weren’t allowed to see.

Still, it was bothering you, not knowing what the basement actually contained. Were you even safe there?

In the end, you decided that you didn’t really want to know, for your mental sanity.

The next day, you were planting new seeds into the garden with your knees deep into the topsoil, enjoying the warmth of the sun finally kissing your cheeks and invigorating your skin. From the corner of your eye, you could spot Mr. Burgess coming over on his own, slowly maneuvering the wheelchair in the grass and taking place in front of you.

Looking up from your handwork, you greeted him with a gentle smile. You were surprised to see him there, without his lover and with no nurse accompanying him around. “Good morning Sir.”

“Good morning, Miss Y/LN. Such a lovely weather today, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. How are you feeling today?”

Admittedly, he got even paler compared to the first time you saw him. And yet, he still looked rather distinguished with that black suit he was wearing.

“Much better, now that I can breathe a bit of fresh air. I had to beg Paul for an hour before he could finally allow me to get out. He told me you would be here.”

You assumed he accepted to let Alex out because of your presence in the garden. You didn’t have any sort of medical experience, but you proved to have good reflexes and a strong initiative when required.

In other words, no pressure or anything...

“He seems rather fond of you lately and I can see why myself. Nobody is taking this as seriously as you do, you are not afraid of getting dirty.”

You blushed a little, it was rare to receive compliments for your efforts on the job. “Thank you Sir.”

He stayed there, watching you in silence as you continued digging into the wet soil with bare hands. He got lost in thought, adjusting the warm blanket over his legs and pushing his black glasses further up his nose.

And then, he spoke again. “Can I be honest with you, Miss Y/LN?”

You could see he was getting nervous now, fingers gripping the blanket even harder. From behind his glasses, you could spot a pair of reddened and very puffy eyes. There was more than a physical uneasiness affecting him somehow, that much was clear.

You stopped your motions and curiously looked back at the man. “Of course.”

“When you told us about your father, when I saw how resoluted you were to work so hard for his sake, my emotions got all over the place. I never had a good relationship with my old man, you see... he always compared me to my brother Randall because I didn’t turn out the way he wanted. Unfortunately, he died at Gallipoli when I was still very young.”

You didn’t know he had a brother. “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

Mr. Burgess smiled slightly. “My father didn’t take it well at the time. To him, Randall was his only legacy and he never acknowledged me. I did my best to follow his lead, to please him whenever I could, to be the son he expected me to become. In the end, it was never enough. I was never enough.”

You grew up with your father as an only child, you had all the love, attention and care you could ever ask for and more. It pained you to know Alex Burgess had to go through a life of misery despite the comforts and riches he was surrounded with.

“The day my father died, I told him that if Randall were alive, he would hate him as much as I did. Those were the last words he heard from me before leaving this world forever.”

He left you speechless, even more so for the depth of his story. He looked absolutely devastated, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“I would like to say that I regret what I did, but that would be a lie. I inherited all his possessions, but also the burdens that came with them. There is… one, in particular, which I’ve been trying to get rid of for a very long time now. But if I do, that choice might have serious consequences for me, Paul and anyone else involved.”

Your mind immediatly went to the basement you couldn't dare approaching. Could that be the hidden burden he was so dramatically referring to?

“For the last few years, I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over again; am I just as bad as my father was?”

You considered what he told you, thinking carefully about the proper words to use. It wasn’t an easy question and it had no easy answer either, there just was too much you didn’t know. About him, about his father, about their history, about what he inherited and they were keeping buried in the dark.

In the end, you went with what your heart suggested you to say. “You are only human Sir. We all may say horrible things when we face traumatic experiences, we shouldn't be ashamed of our weaknesses. The words we speak in our worst times do not define us and I think you should really forgive yourself at this point in life”

You watched the man as he stared down at his wrinkly hands, bottom lip quivering and frail shoulders drooping against the wheelchair.

You continued. “As for your burden, I’m sure you will make the right decision. Would the consequences you speak about be worse than what would happen if you left things the way they are now?”

“You have made a good point.” He paused for a moment, then looked up at the sky. “But am I really brave enough to risk it?”

You should have kept yourself as far as possible from his affairs, as you had absolutely nothing to do with whatever they were hiding. And yet, that voice into your head was pushing you to do it, to say it out loud, to force your way through it because you wanted to know. You needed to know. As much as it worried you.

Why though? You couldn't explain it. Just a feeling maybe, a mere gut sensation that you struggled to ignore.

Alas, the words came out on their own accord, before you could even process them. “If there’s anything I can do Sir, anything at all, I may help you out.”

Did you really expect that Mr. Burgess would let you know about his family’s darkest secrets, when you had no right of intruding and no knolewdge of what was going on? Obviously not. But that wasn’t enough to stop you.

He, for his part, said nothing. Didn’t even flinch as he kept his teary eyes glued to the burning sun. You waited, seconds turned to minutes and the awkward silence had become too much to bear.

Defeated, you decided to apologize. “I’m sorry, I overstepped. Please forget what I just said, Mr. Burgess.”

However, you were shocked to hear what he said next. “You would help, would you.”

Wait. Was he actually considering it?

“You know… maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Meet me in the living room tonight at 10 PM. There is something I should be discussing with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Whether it was for the excitement, or the fear of biting more than you could chew, you couldn’t really tell. For all you knew they were in fact holding the devil into the basement, which would match with the different rumors you had previously heard. On the other hand, you figured they would never mention it to you if it could potentially put your own life at risk.

Right?

Nevertheless, you accepted his invitation and for the entire day you couldn’t think about anything else, mentally beating yourself up for your impulsive behavior.

That night, you were feeling sick to the core. As soon as you approached the living room space, you heard Mr. Burgess and Mr. McGuire holding an animate conversation. You moved closer, staying hidden behind the curtains just enough to hear what they were whispering about.

“Alex, darling please, be reasonable. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She might be our only chance, Paul. The only way to finally end it all.”

“You’ve been trying to get a word from him for years! What makes you think that it will be different with someone else?”

Him? Who was him?

“He won’t talk to me, we have determined as much. But you saw it yourself in the past few weeks, she is good with people.”

You heard Paul grunting. “Come on Alex, you know he is not people. A pretty face and some sugar-coating words are the last thing he needs.”

“I don’t have too much time left!” There was desperation in Alex’s voice. “I can’t stand the thought of this burden weighting on anyone else’s shoulders. Least of all yours.”

Hence, there was someone held captive into the basement. According to the rumors, a demon was summoned by Roderick Burgess many years before, granting the man wealth and prosperity until the day he died. You didn't know how true such a horrifying theory actually was, but evidently, there was a bit of foundation in the creative stories people liked to come up with.

A part of you wanted to just run back to your room and forget you even offered to assist them in the first place, but what would you hope to accomplish doing so? Nevertheless, your guts once again prompted you to move forward with whatever you were getting yourself into. You were so incredibly close to uncover the mystery that was heavily tickling your strange curiosity and you couldn't let that pass.

Gaining enough courage to leave your hiding spot, you walked through the curtains to announce your arrival. Both men were now facing your way, their expressions two opposite poles.

“Ah, good evening Miss Y/LN,” said Mr. Burgess. “Your timing is impeccable.”

Paul sighed, but he remained silent and greeted you with a nod.

Your fingers nervously grasped the apron tied around your uniform. “Good evening. You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me?”

Mr. Burgess cleared his throat. “There is, yes... but it is better if we show you. Paul?”

You could see Mr. McGuire looking at you with a pained expression, full of guilt and sorrow as he took the wheelchair and guided Alex to the basement door while gesturing you to follow. The guards immediatly stood up straight like two perfectly trained royal soldiers, letting you all in and briefly glancing at you in utter confusion. You ignored them and just walked behind Paul with your head held high, waiting for him to secure the wheelchair into the elevator.

You followed straight, standing at Paul’s right side while the elevator vibrated loudly and started to descend. A metallic sound echoed in the humid and dark cellar the moment it came to a stop.

Your legs felt weak and your feet were hurting after an entire day of work with those shoes. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it rumbling in your ears. You struggled for a moment, almost unable to move. You had to force your body to cooperate, stepping out of the elevator and biting your tongue to keep your nervousness at bay.

Paul flipped a big switch on the wall and, from where you were standing, you could see the lights flickering and turning on at the same time. He kept walking, the wheelchair sliding onto a dais that had been constructed between the main floor and the squary platform at che center, surrounded by a pool of dark water. You could spot something now, a big and transparent object chained to the ceiling and floor, remaining upright and suspended in the air.

But when Paul moved the wheelchair aside and allowed you to see the odd sphere in its entirety, your breath got caught in your throat and your legs almost gave out under you again. There was someone looking up and meeting your eyes, curled up into that glass cage like a bird with clipped wings. You saw no horns, no sharp teeth, no claws… there was nothing that could be even remotely similar to the devil people described.

In fact, the being in front of you was absolutely ethereal; pale skin and lean muscles that seemed carved into marble, dark hair falling messily on his forehead, full lips, a strong jawline and a pair of blue eyes containing the entire universe inside. Two deep orbs that seemed to stare right into your soul and shine in the dim light.

You were looking at the most beautiful creature you had ever seen in your entire life.

Who was that man? Why did they strip him of all his clothes? Wasn’t he cold down there, in a room that was at least five degrees cooler than the rest of the house (and had the exposed skin of your arms and legs crawling)?

It was wrong. So very wrong. On so many levels. “What is going on here…?” Your voice cracked.

Mr. Burgess placed his right hand over the glass in front of him, his attention was directed to the imprisoned being, who you couldn't stop looking at. “Miss Y/LN, I present you Dream of the Endless. In 1916, my father summoned him by accident, instead of his sibling Death. He put him into this cage and over the binding circle to seal his power away. He begged him to bring my brother Randall back, demanded riches and immortality… all he received from him was silence, until the day he died.”

You looked at the golden circle under your feet, perfectly dried and well preserved over time. You processed what he just told you and your head started to spin like a top. If he got summoned in 1916, he remained locked up for 106 years, over a century spent into such a tiny space, away from everything he used to know while the world continued changing and advancing in his absense.

But did you even want to believe what Alex was telling you? According to his story, both Alex and Paul would be centenarians and it just didn’t add up.

“My father said we couldn’t free him, that he would come for us to seek revenge. With him gone, I told Dream that I was willing to let him go, as long as he could guarantee that Paul and I would be left unharmed in return. Unfortunately, I’m still waiting for an answer.”

There was something that sounded strangely familiar and was causing you a weird sense of dread. Dream of the Endless…. Dream…. where did you hear that before?

ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔫𝖈𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰.

And then it hit you. It was something you read about when you were a child, a tale as old as time that thoroughly enchanted your little self and you had almost forgotten while growing up.

But it couldn't be. It didn't make any sense.

“Wait. Are you telling me that your father summoned the actual Sandman? The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares himself?”

The prisoner moved forward, staring at you with suspicion and surprise mixed together. Somehow you knew it was all true and so incredibly absurd at the same time. He was out of this world, so magical-looking despite his current vulnerability. There was no mistake, it was real. He was real.

“Miss Y/LN, how do you know him...?”

𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰, 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰.

“I read about him. A very long time ag-” You stopped in your tracks, your eyes widened as realization hit you on the spot. “...Oh my God.”

Slowly, almost tentatively, you moved closer to the entity. He slightly tilted his head at you and inspected your features, every change in your expression, every emotion rippling out of your body.

And then you spoke, revealing what had you so perturbed. “1916. It was the year of the Encephalitis Lethargica, known as the Sleepy Sickness. Those people who never woke up, the famous case of Unity Kinkaid printed on newspapers and books to this day (and even my neverending insomnia, perhaps)... It all took place because of this, because you have the Sandman trapped into this cage since 106 years ago.”

You thought he was just a fairy tale, a bedtime story parents used to tell their kids to ensure they had nice dreams when afraid of the dark, or to warn them about nightmares hunting them if they weren't good enough. But seeing him in the flesh now, having this incredibly beautiful, yet broken being before you, your stomach flipped upside down and your heart raced violently against your ribs.

Your hand came in contact with the glass as well, it was freezing cold and thick under your touch. Dream’s shiny eyes shifted down to look at your palm, then back up to meet your gaze again. Anger, frustration, pain, loneliness… you could see this and so much more, you felt it as if those emotions were your own.

Mr. Burgess cleared his throat. “Well, this burden my father left me is something I really don’t want to keep until the end of my days. He doesn’t talk to me though, he only stares, all the damn time. Just like he’s doing now with you.”

You snorted, irritation taking over you. “With all due respect Sir, he’s been captured and placed into a cage for more than a century, without a shred of clothing on and withheld against his will. The fact he doesn’t want to talk shouldn’t really be surprising to you.”

He let out a pained sigh. "You are right, of course. And very smart too... this is why I need your help."

"And how exactly am I supposed to help?"

You found your rising anger very questionable, considering you literally brought this upon yourself. You could have avoided that awful situation if you had kept your mouth shut and yet, now that you were looking at Dream, regret was not a predominant feeling.

"Talk to him. Convince him. That is all I ask."

You blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

The one concerned was just a few inches away, yet the man spoke as if the Endless couldn’t hear him, nor understand his words at all.

“What makes you think he will even listen to me?”

Mr. Burgess stood from the wheelchair, unstable on his legs, to slowly take your hand in his. “Look, Miss Y/LN, I’m not asking you to do this for free. I will pay you for your service, twice the monthly amount I’m already giving you, in fact.”

What…?

“Think about your father. With a similar amount of money, you wouldn’t need to worry about the costs of modern medicine anymore.”

Your heart cracked and you slowly removed your hand from his weak grasp. “That’s a low blow, Mr. Burgess.”

“She’s right Alex,” Mr. McGuire intervened. “Please dear, just let her be.”

But Alex didn’t want to see reason. He moved closer to the glass sphere for support, pleading you with newly formed tears that threatened to spill. “I’m begging you. Please, just give it a try… I’m too old and tired to continue with this. I assure you that I want him to be free, more than anything else in the world. He knows that.”

He seemed genuinely intent on letting Dream go, but the fear of seeing the action backfiring against him and his husband was preventing him from doing the right thing. How were you supposed to play along, go down into the cellar solely to extort an imprisoned God, even earning money for such a shameful act? He didn’t utter a single word in over a century, was Alex really expecting the Endless to talk to you, a perfect stranger, as you could only chatter nonesense through a barrier magically keeping him stuck and restrained?

When you didn't respond, the man sighed once more. “It’s getting late now and we all need to rest. Come, we will discuss this again later.”

Paul muttered a soft “I’m sorry” when he walked past your frozen form, Alex now back onto the wheelchair, exhausted and disheartened. You stayed there for a moment longer, glancing at the man in the bowl with panic rising inside of you. He continued to look straight at your soul from under his long lashes, silent and unperturbed. You felt captivated, entranced, eager to break the glass and let him out.

But you couldn’t do that, you knew you couldn’t.

So you looked away, lowering your head and turning on your heels, walking fast to reach the elevator. You peaked over your shoulder one last time before going, Dream of the Endless was sitting motionless into the cage, his eyes never leaving you as you went up.

End notes: This chapter is set around three months before Morpheus escapes, in 2022 (again, based on the Netflix show) and we have already reached the second month. In case you are wondering if Reader will set him free, the answer is no. I plan to keep things as canon as possible, so everything will take place as originally scripted (although she may try something eventually).

Also, Reader is human, but she appears to be a very sensitive one. The 'gut thing' she experienced about the basement is in fact a recurrent event in her life.

Go to Chapter 2 ->

Read on AO3

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #fanfic #story: let your dreams be your wings

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amomentoftimeandword · 8 months

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"I live my life a quarter mile at a time." - Dom Toretto.

Back when Fast and Furious was all about racing! For a movie from 2001, it holds up and kicked off an entire franchise! I haven't seen past The Fate of the Furious (fast 8), still don't know if I plan to, but I sure do love to rewatch the originals ❤️. Even though I know I'm setting myself up for failure and will be sobbing (per usual) at the end of 7 😭 the world still misses Paul Walker!

#a moment of time and word #every picture has poetry #the fast and the furious #the fast saga #paul walker #brian o'conner #dominic toretto #vin diesel #i live my life a quarter mile at a time

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 8 months

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𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Thirty-Four

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Morpheus Tries A Thing Called ‘Apologizing’ (Also Finally Get’s His Shit Together), Fiddler’s Green Plays Therapist, Flashbacks.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.1k

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Apologizing. Not a concept that Morpheus had ever considered, but one that he was sure he needed to employ. Which is how he found himself searching out his trusted Librarian within the vast depths of the Library. Given the rapid expansion of the wing since his return to full power, Lucienne could be anywhere. Turning down a row of shelves, Morpheus strode his way towards the desk in which the librarian usually could be found. She was nowhere to be seen. Morpheus headed up a nearby spiral staircase and began striding through the upper level.

“Lucienne?” He questioned.

“My lord. There’s something I must tell you.” Lucienne’s voice spoke out. Morpheus turned around to see the librarian emerging from a row of shelves.

“And I will listen.” Morpheus answered, his chin dipping slightly. “But first, you must let me tell you that you were right.” Lucienne looked up at her king in shock. Dream of the Endless, apologizing? What had this realm come to? “The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was…” Is was almost painful to say. “Wrong, to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana.”

“You were not entirely wrong, sir,” Lucienne replied, looking over her glasses. “She’s found them both.”

“What? The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green? Where? How do you know?” Morpheus instantly questioned.

“Fiddler’s Green told me,” Lucienne explained shortly before the arcana himself appeared, hat tucked neatly against his side as he approached his king and creator. Fiddler’s Green stopped next to Lucienne and bowed his head.

“Apologies, lord, for having left.” Fiddler’s Green spoke.

“Why? Why did you leave?” Morpheus asked, the betrayal he felt clear in his voice. “I trusted you. You were the heart of the Dreaming.”

“No, sir,” Fiddler’s Green protested. “You were the heart of the Dreaming. And you were gone. I was curious.” He went on. “And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here. Which is why I’ve returned because… he’s murdering them.”

“The Corinthian?” Morpheus repeated, alarm bells going off in his head. His beloved creation was never meant to murder. Certainly not the very beings he was made to serve.

“He appears to have built up a cult of worshippers who kill for pleasure, endangering the waking world and the life of a friend called Rose Walker.”

“The Corinthian has found Rose Walker?” Morpheus repeated.

“Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose,” Lucienne blurted out, her eyes wide with renewed worry.

“Oh yes, but it is much worse than that,” Fiddler’s Green went on, fingering his hat and cane nervously. “It appears that the queen has taken it upon herself to assist Rose in finding her brother and I fear what the Corinthian will do when they cross paths. He can surely feel her power.”

“You must tell me where they are,”

Fiddler’s Green and Lucienne walked down at hallway, leaving behind their brooding king who now seemed to be in a darkened mood with the knowledge that his queen was in such proximity to his rogue Nightmare. His reaction wasn’t surprising, not with his history of protectiveness towards is lovers. But Y/N Burgess wasn’t just a lover and she wouldn’t bend to Morpheus’s will simply because he bid her so. No, Morpheus had a tendency to fall in love with powerful woman who did not take kindly to being told what to do. Certainly not by him.

“So, he too spent the last century in the waking world.” Fiddler’s Green mused softly after hearing about how Morpheus had been trapped in the basement of a manor for over one hundred years. Lucienne nodded her head in agreement.

“Yes, but he seems to have experienced the worst of humankind.” She reminded the arcana. “And certainly has held some short comings regarding his captivity.”

“Still, his time there appears to have changed him as it has changed me.” Fiddler’s Green argued back. Lucienne gave him a look of skepticism.

“How so?” Fiddler’s Green let out a chuckle. “Lucienne, he came to you and told you he was wrong. It was very nearly an apology. The Morpheus I knew was incapable of that.”

“Hmm.” Lucienne sounded, thinking over Fiddler’s Green’s words. “Then perhaps he will be merciful to you since you came back on your own.”

“Oh, it doesn't matter what happens to me. What matters is that Dream stops the Corinthian and saves Rose Walker and her majesty.” Lucienne raised an eyebrow at her old friend, shaking her head slightly.

“There is no saving Rose Walker.” Lucienne informed him. Fiddler’s Green looked taken aback.

“Why on earth would you say that?” He exclaimed.

“Do you not know?” Lucienne questioned as the pair came to an abrupt stop. “She's a vortex.”

“Oh. Oh, dear. I should have realized. What have I done? He's... He's going to have to kill her.” Fiddler’s Green worried, he set his gaze back on the librarian. “Lucienne, her majesty has no intention of letting anything happened to Rose Walker! She said so herself, she won’t allow any harm come to Rose and her friend. I fear she will defy Lord Morpheus. Lady Y/N is quite serious about her promises, she is already quite upset with Lord Morpheus as it is. I also fear that she will try to take on the Corinthian herself.”

“You will come to learn that Lady Y/N is not as accepting to Lord Morpheus’ ways and has a perchance to challenge him. Thus the reason why she has left the Dreaming in the first place.” Lucienne explained, adjusting her spectacles.

“Oh dear, she did indicate that she was quite upset with him. I tired to explain his point of view but I’m afraid that she still remains quite hurt by his actions.”

“Unfortunately their affairs are not ours to meddle in. We can simply advise, but I will say, in Lord Morpheus’ endeavor to keep the queen safe, he has only pushed her away with his actions. He certainly hasn’t told her why he acts the way he does. Their entire relationship is based on misunderstanding and miscommunication.”

“Fiddler’s Green,” Morpheus called, approaching the arcana at a slow pace. Fiddler’s Green peered over his glasses at his incoming king and knew what he wanted of him.

“Hello, sir,” Fiddler’s Green greeted, bowing his head. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Morpheus came to a stop in front of him and looked down for a moment before responding, his eyes meeting the gentle ones of Fiddler’s Green.

“You were last to interact with Y/N, is she well?” Morpheus asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m afraid I have a proclivity to upset her unintentionally and our last encounter was… rather intense. I fear I have severely upset her and she now seeks to spite me for my actions.”

“Oh sir, I am sure she isn’t—“ Morpheus shook his head and held up his hand to cease Fiddler’s Green’s words.

“No, I am well aware of how my recent actions have pushed her. She can be quite spiteful when angered and I believe I have earned such emotion from her this time.” Fiddler’s Green let out a gentle sigh, miscommunication and misunderstanding indeed. These two had absolutely no idea what to do with each other.

“Sir, when I spoke with Lady Y/N, she wasn’t angry or planning on spiting you.” Morpheus’s eyebrow rose in question and Fiddler’s Green rolled his cane between his hands. “She was most upset, sir. It hurts her to stay away, I could feel it. Her actions are not out of spite, but out of a need to prove that she is not a servant who will blindly take orders.”

“Of course she isn’t, she is the queen of the Dreaming and my bonded. She holds the highest power in this realm and can do as she sees fit.” Morpheus replied, his tone indicating that he clearly thought it was an obvious statement. Fiddler’s Green raised his eyebrow.

“But sir, have you allowed her to exercise such will?” He questioned, causing the Endless to actually think about that. “I know you wish to protect her but perhaps in your endeavors you have ignored the very power only she can wield.” Fiddler’s Green wouldn’t say it out loud, but only Y/N Burgess had power over Dream of the Endless, and it seemed that he had forgotten that. “No, sir, she isn’t angry with you. I believe she is deeply hurt that you do not yet treat her as your equal.”

“I’ve been watching over her since she was but a defenseless infant.” Morpheus spoke softly, remembering the endless days and nights of watching Y/N learn how to crawl, to walk, to speak, to dream. “She has suffered because I chose her and I do not wish for her to experience any more of the terrible pain I know I have caused her by choosing to bind her soul to mine. Life has been cruel to her, does she not deserve to be sheltered and protected?”

“Perhaps, sir, may I be so bold?” Fiddler’s Green questioned in hesitancy. He knew that his lord needed to hear what he had to say, but whether or not he wanted to, was another question entirely. Morpheus nodded.

“Of course,” Fiddler’s Green smiled gently, his brows crinkling together.

“When you love someone, you protect them from their pain, you don’t become the cause of it.” That gave Morpheus a lot to think about.

After speaking with Fiddler’s Green, Morpheus found himself taken to the queen’s wing of the palace. The wing did not seem, nor feel, as light as it had when Y/N had occupied it. The statues were sad and the flowers that dotted the space had long since died. It was as if the wing itself had regressed back to its disparaged state upon it’s queen fleeing from the realm. Was it not days ago that the pair were enjoying each others company without fighting or dirty looks? Morpheus found himself staring at the untouched bed neatly made up.

Y/N had returned to her reading while Morpheus was enthralled with the way her fingers combed through his hair and brushed across his forehead. When had he last felt this at peace? It had to have been hundreds of years. He nearly felt like rumbling in happiness, much like a cat stretched out under the sun. This was what it was to be bonded, to have a connection that was born from the very center of one’s being. If only this could last for eternity.

“You are making it hard to concentrate, Morpheus,” Y/N’s soft voice rivaled a choir of angels. Morpheus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips, a small part of him overjoyed that she found him just as distracting as he did her. A dark eyebrow rose.

“My apologies, I was simply marveling at your exquisite beauty.”

“Well don’t get sappy with me now, I was just starting to tolerate you,” Y/N replied, amusement twinkling in the eyes that remained glued to the book. “Words can be becoming, especially when describing a woman, Morpheus, but they are often fabricated.”

“You think I would be so untruthful in my words to you?” She hummed in answer. “Y/N, I will see you across any world or realm and think you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen for as long as I breathe.” Y/N paused in her reading, the gravity of his words registering in her mind. “There is my heart, and then there is you, and I am not sure there is a difference.”

“Then your heart must be quite twisted and cracked, Morpheus,” Y/N spoke, her voice devoid of emotion save for lingering pain.

“I have eternity to fix that.” Her eyes finally dropped to his, those starry eyes bored into hers. “You will forever be my dream.”

Her lips twitched shortly before she added a sentence to his bold statement, her words whispered gently.

“Or perhaps your waking nightmare.”

Y/N was his greatest strength and his darkest desire. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Morpheus pulled out the ruby necklace Y/N had yanked from her neck and refused to wear it despite it’s protective intentions. It hummed with his power and echoed with hers. When Morpheus took care of the Corinthian and the vortex, he was going to have to sit down with Y/N and explain everything. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

Date Published: 12/9/22

Last Edit: 8/20/23

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#dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #sandman x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #morpheus #lord morpheus

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