#Jessamy my love <3

[rriavian]

Do you think Morpheus knows deep inside that Corinthian is his mirror? The reflection of his own darkness and desire?

Jessamy my beloved! I love getting asks from you! They are always the most interesting questions to really make me think about how to put my thoughts into words! <3 Sorry it took so long to answer this one (think I broke my record for time taken to answer an ask eek)!

I had this typed out nearly ready to post but got very distracted by Corintheus week! Can't believe it's February already, I hope you’re having a good New Year so far 😊

Does Morpheus know that the Corinthian is his mirror?

I think that Dream does, and that in some ways he holds himself responsible for the difficulty of it, because I think we can all agree that it’s a lot for any singular creation of his to embody. On the flipside of this you could argue that Fiddler’s Green is supposed to be a reflection of the light—the ‘heart’ of the Dreaming, a representation of pure life giving creation—with Gault as the fluid, transformative, link between all three of the major arcana. I think I’ve talked briefly about this before but it’s relevant again for this question.

Her place as a link between the two extremes, and her transformative powers, makes sense for why Gault would want to become a dream (and perhaps another reason why Dream agreed in the end) but it also suggests how complicated the facets of Dream’s identity are.

(I could probably make an entire separate post on this but! Moving on!)

All three major arcana reject him just as the rest of his creations do, are the last to return to the Dreaming and none of them do it by choice. Even Fiddler’s Green needs to first be tracked down. The Corinthian is found at the convention where Dream takes responsibility for making him the way he is, designating his rebellion as his own failure. The Corinthian was his masterpiece but I think Dream might now consider that as designing too ambitious a spec, the coding perfect but corrupted in the end. I think that assessment could be why he highlights the Corinthian’s purpose as being a dark mirror for humanity instead of one for himself, despite how closely those two things seem to be bound.

Not necessarily changing his mind, just changing the emphasis.

But, as I said, I also think Dream made the Corinthian for it. To be able to take it. Or at least hoped that he would—another reason why he might have said that he’d had so much hope for him, why Dream was so disappointed—not constructed to be given a burden, not supposed to be that at all. In many ways I think that’s why he’s a major arcana. But the Corinthian also has his own unique darkness, perhaps finding its origins in his creators but without its place in Dream’s larger puzzle it expresses differently, the exploration of what happens to a counterpoint to a dream that isn’t held internally.

The Corinthian is far more selfish with his darkness, lives out all that desire and need the way Dream can’t (and won’t), can embody it wholeheartedly because he’s not supposed to be balanced in the same way.

Yet in doing so he offers balance; can offer that to Dream, the same way he allows darker human impulses a chance to take center stage.

An outlet for it all.

All of Dream’s creations in some way seem to be that, a combination of the restriction of a role and the individuality of personality, might have a set purpose but have choices in how they carry out what they are. The same as Dream really. They are concepts personified, ideas and emotions that might originate in another, whether it be humanity or their creator, but they’ve been given their own voice.

It's no one way dictation…a dialogue with humanity because their function is to speak back.

So yes, I think that Dream knows that the Corinthian is his dark mirror far better than the Corinthian himself does. I think he knows how important he is in a way the Corinthian doesn’t see (the way the rest of his creations sometimes can’t see about themselves either).

I think the existence of a dark mirror (and other such representations) are a way in which Dream keeps emotionally healthy, just as they are a way for humans to keep emotionally healthy, and you could even argue that it’s how his creations keep themselves healthy too. Change and growth are certainly positive aspects of life, but like anything that’s not necessarily universal, because so is embracing what you are. Who you are. Without referencing my own neurodivergence too much, I think we can all understand circumstances where forcing oneself to change is far from a good and healthy thing.

Acceptance of the parts of oneself that we struggle with/have a tricky relationship with is a big part of what dreams and nightmares help humans to do.

It’s a big part of what a nightmare does.

Ok, this is getting long, so I’m going to make one final point. So I think that Dream could have spent centuries living vicariously through the Corinthian’s nightmarish nature and then finding that crucial mechanism corrupted, poisoned, when the Corinthian suddenly started killing dreamers in the Waking World. I don’t think that’s one of Dream’s desires at all, secret or otherwise, and I think it repulsed him to the point of potentially threatening to destabilise the rest of the system.

Perhaps Dream found his own darkness felt tainted by a reflection that (however intentional the rejection was) no longer wanted to mirror him.

In killing dreamer's the Corinthian was showing how he no longer wanted to mirror humanity (wanted to take from them instead, thought that a better match for what he was made for) and in doing so denied not only Dream, but his own identity too in no longer wanting to be what he was. For someone like Dream I think killing the dreamer’s would have been deeply offensive, an incredibly personal insult, a perversion of his function and an attack on what agency he has to fulfill it.

Whatever disgruntlement Dream may have with his role, he was then faced with the result of how instead of having a healthy outlet, those feelings could have been twisted/warped within the Corinthian's own unique mix of individuality and function. Perhaps in many ways it felt like being forced to kill his dreamers with his own hands.

And I think that was why when Dream found him in Berlin he was so quick to decide to unmake the Corinthian on the spot.

#thank you so much for the ask! #as always I took a while #but I will always always answer every ask #Jessamy my love <3 #the sandman #dream of the endless #corintheus #sandman tv meta #kinda #rria tries to write meta #show based as I'm more familiar with it

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

-------------------------------------

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

-------------------------------------

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #sandman #the sandman fic #sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #morpheus #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream #dream x reader #the endless #the dreaming #fanfic #fanfiction #tom sturridge #dark!morpheus #saskia writes sandman #Spotify #angst #soulmates

[n1ghtlux]

[gif]

Of Dreams and Stars

pairing: Dream/ Morpheus x gn!Reader (no 'y/n' used)

word count: 930

summary: 3 times you kiss him, 1 time he kisses you. [fluffiest fluff fluff + tiny bit of Jessamy reminiscence but dw, you're there to take care of Dream]

─── ☾ ────

"My lord."

your voice is a yearning whisper in his ears as your lips find his cheek. Your warm breath hits him and he is watching you closely, head tilted lightly with pursed lips.

The Lord of Dreams had seen beauty in all its forms but you...you have stardust in your eyes and the whole universe in your soul that made even the Moon blush.

A fallen star in the presence of an Endless being so enamored by you that he has sworn to breathe your name into the cosmos for the end of time.

He sighs in content, keeping his eyes on you and studying your every move. You're so soft in your movements, so graciously do your fingertips dance across his jaw, like the feathers of a raven. It forces his mind to briefly wander and you notice his head tilting down just the tiniest bit. The deep hum that is pure power radiating off of him fills the room in a creeping darkness.

He still mourns the hundred years of confinement. The loss of his most loyal friend. How could he not.

But you're there at his side and your words ground him while your touch gifts him a taste of what it would feel like to touch the clouds.

"My liege."

Gently you press your lips to his nose and let them linger for just a second to press your forehead to his. Only now does he close his eyes to see the stars shine behind his eyelids. And you're there with him, in a sea, an ocean of galaxies.

His hand subconsciously finds yours and it's so soft, you almost forget he has existed for eons. Three faint squeezes follow. A ritual the two of you have repeated for longer than you can remember. It's a promise, a vow saying all the things words will never be able to. Only now do the corners of his mouth lift, replacing the pout with another promise.

You can feel his other hand snaking to the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. He can never get you close enough. Morpheus is always on the brink of wanting to wrap a big warm blanket of dreams and fantasies around the both of you and never let you go again. Wanting to hide under it like little humans do in order to escape the waking or dreaming world and create their own.

And in this moment he is just that: a lovesick being with the childlike need to escape of this moment ever ending.

Firm and big is the hand on your back. You're encompassed by his entire aura, the low hum radiating in your own soul now. He's studying you again, his eyes observing every aspect of your face as if he's an artist looking at his muse in hopes of ever being able to capture your beauty. And yet, the Lord of Dreams thinks himself incapable of ever creating something as perfectly imperfect as you.

Eventually his eyes settle on your lips and you see the wanting like a dark cloud forming in his eyes. The hand that was holding yours moves up your arm towards your shoulder, raising goosebumps all over your body. His touch is enchanting, like he's leaving traces of yet unwritten creations behind. His warm hand lingers on your collarbone for a moment and then moves to cup your jaw with long fingers.

Right in this moment, Morpheus has the whole Universe under his fingertips. The Endless can feel your power just as much as you feel his. It's intoxicating. Addicting even. His lips part lightly and there is such craving and need behind those eyes, you feel you might return to dust under his gaze and touch at any moment.

Morpheus leans closer but not in one quick movement. He does it at such a torturous slow pace, it drives you absolutely insane.

Lips just barely hovering over each other you close the small gap with one last promise hanging from your lips: "my love," he eats it right up, inhales your words into his very being and leaves both of you starstruck. A melodic deep hum fills your mouth while your lips move against each other in a practiced dance.

Morpheus can almost taste the sweetness of the Universe on your lips. He kisses you like you have poetry and addiction in your bones, as if he is starved of your very being and will not survive without you at his side. The hand on your lower back is gripping and pressing you more tightly against him now and yet he has to pull away at last, his lips even more plump and pink than before.

His eyes glisten as he's looking into yours and you're not sure what exactly he's thinking of.

The corners of his mouth turn up once more, eyes even more droopy looking. He's nostalgic, part of him scared, terrified even of ever losing you.

"My muse."

His voice is raspy, that low hum ever present and you wish you could hide him from the world for forever.

"Only you, only ever you," he follows softly and it's said like a statement with the whisper of a vow behind it.

Next thing you know, his lips press against your forehead and linger just a second longer before he pulls you into him, wrapping his coat around the two of you. He still doesn't think you can ever be close enough to him, but this comes pretty close.

Artists would create for a love so deadly.

─── ☾ ────

{ masterlist }

#the sandman #morpheus #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #Morpheus x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman fluff #the sandman x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #the sandman imagine #dream imagine #oneiros #dream fluff #Morpheus fluff

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌, 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄

dream (morpheus) x sister!reader

summary: just scenarios about being dream's little sister.

warnings: nothing, maybe desire (?), but dream being EXTREMELY protective about his sister, that's all <3

– you're the youngest children of night and time, being born after a hundred years of the others. when you were born, the others were there, desire trying to play with you, but instead of letting them terrorize you, dream takes you in his arms, looking down at you. your wide, innocent eyes, the golden symbols tracing under your eyes on your soft skin, when you blink, it's like your eyes shine in golden for a second. "it's so peaceful... what is it's power?" death asked as she tried to play with her. their mother, night laying on the bed looked at them, then the baby. "it's a she, actually, dear. and she's hope. mortals gonna radiate in her presence, she'll bring light into the world." hearing these words, dream look at her mother. "mother, i..." mother night nodded. "i know, my dream. i trust you with raising her, look out for her. until she's strong enough to create her realm, she's gonna live with you."

– and from now on, dream takes you with him, and tries to give you everything. it takes a mere two hundred years for you to be powerful enough to make your own realm, but when you move there, you still spend much time in the dreaming.

– but enough from the specifics, get on the emotional side, shall we?

– dream being your brother and patron saint means that you'll be under heavy protection. he'll not let anyone harm you, and doesn't trust anyone to teach you things, except from lucienne and jessamy. as time goes by, you and his helpers, friends became a new family. you stroke jessamy's wings and feathers every time she flies to the realm of hope. "is my brother kind to you, little jessamy?" you ask from her, and you know that she's much more older than you, but you just love to bury your face into her feathers.

– after you create your realm (you create it in your dreams, how ironic), he's the first one you invite to take a look at it, and it's truly magical. dream smiles, and while he does that really rarely, in your presence, he lets himself to be happy. seeing your eyes full of shining from what you just have done, he strokes your head, giving you a hug. "i'm so proud of you, sister." besides taking care of your realm, you go down to the waking world merely often. from little things like growing the flowers of little children who believes that their tulips will grow before fall, to the big things like curing terminally ill people for the family members who's praying all day (especially that in the 1700s, there's no cure for a single pneumonia). when dream doesn't find you, he always holds the little object you gave him -a little bag of pearls, when they mix with the sand he blows out, your pearls lead him to where you are.

– like, after you picked up a baby bird from the ground, probably fallen off from it's nest, you feel a presence behind your back. stiffing a little bit, then turning and lifting your vile, weaved from gold and transparent like sunshine, you smile when you see your brother. if your vile is in front of your face, people can't see you, but if it's off, it's like you're just one of them.

– "dream! how are you?" your smile is so wide and honest, you never ever wonder when you find him coming after you; it's like you know that he's watching over you and will meet you. after helping the baby bird, you begin to walk with him. it's always unusual, you, a bright and little bit outstanding girl, and him, a tall, dark and pale man together is the duo who people turn after.

– you're always listening to him as you walk beside him, but when you're done with one of your missions from the thousands you planned yourself as usual, it's like he's the one who's asking you constantly (a/n: it's exactly the picture about a mama cat who's walking beside her kitten and looking at them). sometimes, when death is with you two, your trio is just sitting on a hill with some flowers in silence, dream and death talks about serious things, and when they turn to you, you place flower crowns on their heads you made during their conversation. then, you explain your thoughts, tilting the flower crown on dream's head back when he looks down for too long.

– dream protects you from desire of course, because he's convinced that everything his sibling says is a poison to your mind when you're adolescent. sure, when you're older, you meet desire, but you can be certain about the fact that your brother looks out for you when you're with them. looking seriously into their eyes, he growls, "if you dare to influence or persuade our sister dream to do anything, you'll never forget the day when you made that mistake. and has nothing to do with what's conflict between us, do you understand?"

– safe to say that when it comes to desire's intrigue with the vortex-story, dream considered that you're on his side of the family. he says that he's disgusted by desire, but deep down he fears that he's too strict, and one day you're gonna advocate beside them. and desire can make you do anything, even if it means that you sacrifice yourself for your family, because that's how much you love your siblings and humanity.

– dream takes great pride about how you think the same about humanity as him and death; helping them, walking among them and serving them, not laying all day in your realm and doing nothing but only bad (like desire).

when you are together, it's like you're joined at the hip –and on one side, it's better than anything, but if something bad happens... then the two of you feel it.

– (yeah, now is coming the sad part, it's also a little oneshot)

when dream gets caged in, maybe you're too young or too immature to the feelings and your family, but as much as you search for him, as much as you ask for everybody around you, they don't know where he went, you just don't understand. your first thought is that he get away because of you. and that he doesn't love you anymore, and he rather stays away from his family than to see you.

for thirty years, you cry in your realms and don't dare to go to the dreaming. your creatures try to reassure you that it's not your fault, but you're relentless. other twenty years goes away with calling him, but he just don't answer –the most painful in the whole thing that he hears you the entire time... he just can't respond.

then, after god knows how many time, you stand up one day, and think 'wipe your tears off, hope. dream would talk about his problems, especially with you. if my brother doesn't want to come to me, than i'm going to find him'. and with this, you collect your objects that gives you power, and you go down to the dreaming. walking to lucienne, you keep your veil on your hair, like a bride. "lucienne, where is jessamy? i need her to find my brother." lucienne looks at you with so much apology in her eyes. you feel your heart tighten, but you don't know yet. "my majesty, i fear to say this, but... jessamy didn't come back from the waking world." hearing this words, your lips began to tremble, and your eyes became foggy. "no... but, then... is my brother still down there?" you ask, trying to come over with the worst news you could hear. "yes, my majesty. as good as i know, my lord is still down in the waking world."

you nod, then walking out on the big gates, you walk as fast as you can, lucienne is running after you. "my majesty, what is your plan, you are safe here, don't go down there!" with tears still in your eyes, you spread the veil in front of you face. "lucienne, i fea that if i don't go down there, maybe my brother will never come back. i just lost my best friend, and the dreaming is fallen apart, but i will not lose my brother. so please, take care of the dreaming as you did until now." you tell to her, and with this, you spread your arms and let yourself fall down on the edge of the dreaming into the deep border of the realms and the waking world.

after a few weeks between the mortals, you've found the house where your brother was held as a prisoner. sneaking into the house with your vile on, you tried to find out where he could be. as soon as a feather fell into your hand from somewhere, you felt like a string is bound to your heart, and you knew you had to follow it before the feeling disappears. walking down to the lower hallways that seemed like the basement, there was a lock on the steel rods. "oh, come on..." you whispered, as with only a touch, the lock fell down. when it happened, you wanted to come in, but two uniformed people, a man and a woman ran towards you. they didn't see you, and you reached out your hand, giving them happy visions, one of your ability. as they fell to the ground, looking around... there he was. your brother, naked, without any protection against the waking world. dream was sitting there, but he looked up for the noises. at the sight of him, your heart began to beat fast; he spend the last hundred years here? without any help? and what have they done to jessamy? killing and harming were always usual in your life, as you saw it in the mortal world, but it was still a little bit foreign to your soul.

running to him, falling to your knees, you touched the glass as you brushed down your veil. you saw on his face that he didn't believe you were there. "it's me, brother. it's me, hope. how did this happen? who did that to you?" slowly, dream placed his hand on the glass, just on the spot where your hand was.

"hope... how are you here?"

"i couldn't find you, did you think i'm letting you be away for so long? i'm sorry i didn't begin to search for you sooner."

"my sister, it's dangerous for you to be here. they killed jessamy, and they surely want to kill you too." you shook your head, searching for something sharp or rough, something you could cause yourself harm with. "hope, it's not worth to hurt yourself. i'll find my way out from here, just-"

"no, i'll help you. the only option for me to go home is with you. so, could you please crawl a little bit back?" if you hurt yourself, your energy would radiate and explode things you pointed onto. this will hurt, but it will heal. what's never could heal is the hole in your soul from pain, that you let your brother rotten here longer. closing your eyes, you cut deep into your knee, and when the pain was unbearable, you turned to the cave with a closed mouth. it's the strongest of you're direct, and when you begin to scream, the glass cave crashes down to the smallest pieces. it hurt, sure, but destroying something and the knowledge of freeing your brother somehow eased your pain. touching his face with your bleeding hand, drops of your gold blood is falling to the ground. "dream... come on, let's get out of here, let's get to the dreaming." letting your pearls float into the air, he helps you stand up as the pearls begin to form a tornado.

and with that, your journey to get back his objects began.

should i make a part 2? when dream and his sister travels trough the realms and get back his objects.. i'm excited about it, write down your thoughts <3

you can ask for requests in dm or here, do the same if wanna be on the taglist uwu

love, louisa

#morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x sister!reader #morpheus x sister!reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman imagine #sandman x sister!reader #tom sturridge x reader #send me requests #opening requests

[dragon-kazansky]

Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

You are his lover. When Morpheus was captured, you fell into the deep sleep. He has no idea until he returns to his realm where Lucienne tells him what happened. Unable to help you until he gets his tools back, he is more determined than ever to get his full power back.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: This chapter just includes a lot of information from about 3 episodes worth. I apologise for that. My plot will pick up again soon.

Chapter Two - Old friends

☆☆☆

Morpheus stayed by your side for a couple of hours. He just sat silently beside the bed with your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face.

Guilt.

He was riddled with it. Of course, being captured as a complete accident, out of his control, but still felt guilty for not being able to come back to you.

Here, you lay in a dreamless sleep. It was his fault you had been unable to wake. Simply returning to his realm wasn't enough to wake you. Perhaps if he began to rebuild The Dreaming, his power would wake you. He had to at least try.

Morpheus presses a kiss to your forehead and rises up from where he sat. He was reluctant to leave, but he had to do something. Anything. He needed you to wake up.

Lucienne met Morpheus in the throne room. There was debris everywhere. It looked nothing like how it used to. Morpheus was pained to even look at the steps. The last time he was here, he was on his way to bring back a rogue nightmare. That was a century ago. He almost wished he never left to begin with.

He stood among the rubble and opened his hands. Morpheus summoned as much power as he could. The rubble began to lift into the air, but it wasn't enough. He was weak. The rubble and glass fell to the ground, and so did he.

Lucienne moved to help him. "You need rest, and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be back at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." Morpheus slowly gets up from the ground.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby."

"Why, what happened to them?" Lucienne asks.

"They were taken from me." He subconsciously rubs his ring finger. "Among other things too. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

Morpheus' breaths become uneven. He is not strong enough to build his home to its former glory. Therefore, he is not strong enough to wake you.

He must wake you.

There are some who could help him find his tools. The fates. But they require a price. One that will be hard enough to pay if he can not travel through dreams to get what he needs.

He needs something with an essence of his power to help fulfil his travels. Otherwise it cannot be done.

Lucienne knows who can help, but they won't like it.

Cain and Abel.

☆☆☆

Morpheus stands beside your bed and gazes down at you as you sleep. You're always so beautiful. Not even your current state can take away the beauty you hold.

For the last century, all Morpheus could think about was getting back to you. He needed to be by your side again. You were the one thing that kept him going all this time. He never gave in. Never gave up.

Jessamy. She had been shot down in that basement long ago. He knows you will be heartbroken to hear the news. His beloved raven was a dear friend to you. There was so much he needed to tell you.

"I promise, my love. When I get my tools back, I shall wake you and never let you go again. I am sorry for being away so long. I am sorry for causing this to happen." His voice is soft as he caresses your face gently.

He presses another gentle kiss to your forehead and rises from the bed.

His heart aches at the sight of you.

He will wake you even if it's the last thing he ever does.

☆☆☆

Gregory, the gargoyle. He was a gift to Cain and Abel from Morpheus himself. He had been a loyal friend and companion to them.

Morpheus never wanted to ask this, but he had to. Cain and Abel didn't want to let go of their friend, but Gregory made his choice. For the good of The Dreaming. For the good of you too.

Cain and Abel were saddned to hear of your condition. They had heard about what happened from Lucienne, but to hear you did not wake upon the king of dreams return, that was devastating news.

So, when Gregory said goodbye, they understood.

Morpheus absorbed the power from Gregory. It wasn't easy, nor fun, not wanted. Yet, it had to be done.

Morpheus was sorry. He really was.

☆☆☆

The Fates speak in riddles.

Three questions. Three answers. One from each. Those are the rules. Morpheus would take what he could from them.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone.

Well, it's a start.

☆☆☆

While fetching the snake The Fates requested, he had picked up an egg. An egg he did not give to them. It was a gift for someone else.

Morpheus returned to Cain and Abel and left them the egg. It was his apology for what he did to Gregory.

Morpheus has his answers, and Cain and Abel had a new friend. He managed to fix something, at least.

☆☆☆

First stop, London.

Morpheus needed to get his sand back. It was important he had it. Constantine was a name he knew. He had met a Constantine before, a long time ago.

Finding her didn't take him long. However, she was not in the mood to stand around and chat. It seemed she had an exorcism to perform. He had to wait.

Unfortunately, he lost sight of her when a raven appeared. A raven he told Lucienne he didn't need. Not after what happened to Jessamy.

Matthew, his new raven, wasn't about to let him get out of this. Lucienne had told Matthew their king was stubborn, and that was starting to seem like an understatement.

Though Morpheus knew you would be disappointed in him for turning away a raven.

Morpheus helped Constantine with an old friend of hers. An ex. She had the sand. She had been holding onto it tightly. Her dreams were happy ones. The sand was keeping her alive, but Morpheus needed his pouch back.

She died happily.

Constantine accepted this and told Matthew to keep an eye on Morpheus. He could do with the company.

For a moment, Morpheus was reminded of you. That sounded like something you would say to him.

Morpheus clutched the sand in his hand.

"I will save you." He whispered.

Matthew looked up at him. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

Matthew had been made aware of you and your condition. Lucienne had told the raven their lord's mood will certainly be affected because of it.

Matthew didn't ask any more about you.

☆☆☆

While Morpheus travelled to Hell of all places, Lucienne came to sit by your bedside. She did this sometimes. She hated the thought that you were alone, even if you couldn't tell she was there or not.

"He's gone to get his tools back. I sent him a raven. I will make sure he keeps in touch this time, my lady."

Lucienne looks at your face. You looked so peaceful, but she knew this was deeper than that. She wanted you to wake up so could be with Lord Morpheus again.

"When you wake, the realm will be complete. My lord will be complete. Heartbroken doesn't even cover how he felt when he saw you, my lady... I wish there was more I could do."

Deep down, she knew there was nothing else she could do.

"I shall be here watching over you until he returns. I promise, my lady."

☆☆☆

Walking through Hell is about what you would expect, really.

Lucifer. The ruler of this realm.

Getting his helm back would not be easy, but he would do what he had to do to get it back. No matter what he was up against, Morpheus would do this. He was doing this for you and the realm you both shared.

Seeing Nadar was hard. He had told you be had loved before. He spoke very little about what happened, though. His luck in love was very little.

He reminded himself why he was here. For his helm. For you.

To get his helm back, he must play The Oldest Game. If he loses, he will become a slave to Hell. If he wins, he gets his helm back.

Morpheus tries to get Matthew to return to The Dreaming, so he may send word of Morpheus' fate if he does not win. Losing will not just leave him in Hell with his helm, but it would mean leaving you behind forever.

You would be safe with Lucienne. He needs you to be safe.

Matthew refuses to go.

The Oldest Game begins.

"I am a dire wolf. Prey stalking, lethal prowler." Lucifer begins.

"I am a hunter. Horse mounted, wolf stabbing." Morpheus replies.

Lucier takes a hit. Blood pouring from their torso.

"I am a serpent. Horse biting, poisoned toothed."

Morpheus feels the poison in his veins.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake devouring, talons ripping."

Lucifer receives some scratches to the face. More blood is shed.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm life destroying."

Morpheus curls over into a heap. His flesh appears to be rotting away.

"I am a world. Space floating, life nuturing."

They stand in a field. Calm. Peaceful.

"I am a nova." Lucifer opens their wings. "All exploding, planet cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground. Scorched, in pain. He tries to get up, but he can not.

"I am a universe." He whispers. "All things encompassing. All life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The beast of judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus is still. His breathing is laboured.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

"I... I..." He is struggling. Matthew comes over.

"Boss? Hey boss!"

"Still with is Dream?" Lucifer asks, leaning over him slightly.

"He is, and it's his move." Matthew argues. "Your majesty."

"There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?"

"Hey boss, listen to me, you know what can survive the anti-life? You. Dreams don't fucking die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven here alone in Hell with Lucifer. And he certainly wouldn't leave his love again in The Dreaming alone without him."

"I... am..." Morpheus sits up. "Hope."

The room brightens up.

"Hope?"

"Well, light bringer? It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

"Give him his helm," Lucifer orders.

He did it. Morpheus won.

The helm is returned to Morpheus. He reminds Lucifer that dreams do have power in Hell.

He leaves, Matthew right behind him.

Morpheus puts his helm on. He knows where the ruby is. He uses his sand to take him there.

One more item, and then he can return to you. He can wake you and hold you again.

"Wait for me, my love."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 -

#symphony of dreams #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

[gabessquishytum]

I've spent almost all day at work thinking about my Haunted Mansion AU. I might actually end up writing this. So, some more of my ideas:

Just like in the film, Hob dies during a Masquerade Ball. He and Roderick meet to discuss 'business' and end up going to Morpheus' study, where they're supposed to wait for him. Hob doesn't trust Roderick but believes that he is safe because surely Roderick won't do anything stupid in the middle of a huge party. While waiting, Hob grabs wine for them, but Roderick poisons Hob's drink. Morpheus arrives, realizes what Roderick has just done, and loses it. Roderick assumed he'd be okay (ironically for the same reason Hob thought everything would be fine), but he doesn’t realize Morpheus is a very old and powerful vampire. Morpheus kills Roderick and then cries over Hob's body, eventually ending the Masquerade Ball by carrying his body through the party.

Like Mr. Gracey in the movie, he plans to kill himself to join his beloved in the afterlife but his eldest brother, Destiny, who can see the future, comes to him. Destiny tells Morpheus that Hob will be reborn in time (as Hob has always been one to reject death, which is part of the reason he and Morpheus worked so well together) and if Morpheus kills himself, he'll not actually be joining Hob in the afterlife. He won't tell Morpheus how long, but he tells Morpheus to wait. So Morpheus does.

I had the thought that instead of Ramsley, Lucienne is the butler, but she's also the librarian of the Manor because she spent so much time there that Morpheus just kind of gave it to her. She's also an Elf.

Jessamy and Matthew take the places of the Maid and Not-Butler (The "Inconceivable!" Guy) and they are siblings who are Fae. They both have the ability to shapeshift into Ravens.

I haven't decided if Corinthian is in this yet. Probably not because I can't figure out where to put him.

I also had the thought that Robert, the real estate agent that is Hob reincarnated, would spend a week at the Manor, and every night he would dream a little more about his life as Hob. How he and Morpheus met, fell in love, and it all culminates in Hob's murder.

Morpheus spends the entire time trying to Be Normal™ about this man who is absolutely his beloved returned to him, just as his elder brother promised. He's so busy trying to Be Normal™ (which, for the record, he's horrendous at lol) that he misses the very obvious hints Rob has been dropping about his memories slowly coming back. At least until Rob has his final dream, where he actually TALKS to Hob, the part of his soul that IS Hob. They have a conversation and realize they aren't all that different, and Rob admits he wouldn't mind if they... became one for lack of a better term. So they sort of merged into one being. He's still Rob, but he's also Hob now.

Hob/Rob talk to Morpheus, explain the situation, and they live happily ever after once Morpheus turns him.

- 🐺

I really really hope that you decide to write this, I love this outline so much. I love the inclusion of Matthew and Jessamy, I love how much the setting of the haunted mansion suits Dream’s vibes so incredibly well.

I love how well Hob can fit into this au as well, because it's almost like you can have 1389 Hob and 2023 Hob talking to eachother (only in this au its Hob and Rob ofc). I just think that could be really poignant and lovely. Like I said I really hope you write this up as a full fic, but even if you don't these ideas are really wonderful already <3

#🐺 anon #the sandman #dreamling

[wyvernquill]

Dreamling + Queen’s Who Wants To Live Forever

(Image ID under the cut)

[Image ID:

A 17-panel Dreamling (Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless from The Sandman) comic featuring the lyrics of the Queen song “Who Wants To Live Forever”. After the panel number, the referenced lyric will follow, and then description of the panel.

Panel 1: “There’s no time for us”, with “time” in all caps. The panel shows a piece of parchment in grayscale, with a date written on it: 7. June 1689, but with the 1 and 6 blotted out by an ink splatter.

Panel 2: “There’s no place for us”, with “place” in all caps. The panel (still in greyscale) shows Dream standing outside a barrier in front of the dilapidated shut-down White Horse tavern.

Panel 3: “What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us…”, with “dreams” and “away” in all caps. The panel (in greyscale except for the red ruby at Dream’s neck) shows Dream in the foreground, walking towards the viewer, as Hob calls after him in the background - it references their falling-out in 1889.

Panel 4: “Who wants to live forever”, repeated once, with “forever” in all caps. In the foreground, Dream and Death stand, turned away from the viewer and looking at Hob in the middle of the panel, who is sitting and drinking with a mug of beer in his hand - the 1389 scene. A warm brown glow emanates from Hob. The words are arranged in a circle around him.

Panel 5: “There’s no chance for us”, with “chance” in all caps. A greyscale panel of Hob sitting and waiting in 1989, smoking and drinking. He is sitting on the left of the panel, the background going from white to grey towards the text on the very right.

Panel 6: “It’s all decided for us”, with “decided” in all caps. A greyscale panel of Dream sitting in the glass prison. He is situated at the right of the panel, the background going from black to grey towards the text on the very left.

Panel 7: “This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us”, with “one sweet moment” in all caps. The panel’s background is black, with a light source at the top right corner. On the very bottom of the panel lies Jessamy the raven, dead, in a pool of blood - though she is drawn in an almost ghostly-glowing way four more times on the panel, showing her as she takes flight and flies off towards the light source. The text creates a sort of helix shape with her flight path, leading back down to her corpse.

Panel 8: “Who wants to live forever,” repeated once, with the second “forever” in all caps. The 1589 scene, in greyscale except for the red of the ruby, Hob telling Dream cheerfully of his life, arms spread out in satisfaction while Dream looks on doubtfully.

Panel 9: “Who dares to love forever, when love must die” with the first “love” and “die” in all caps. The greyscale panel is split diagonally, half of the text in the top left, the other half in the bottom right. The split passes through the miniature painting of Eleanor and Robyn Hob shows Dream, but on the “when love must die” side the frame is fractured, and Eleanor and Robyn’s hand have turned skeletal.

Panel 10: “But touch my tears with your lips”, with “tears” in all caps. A greyscale panel of a closeup of 1989 Hob from the shoulders up, holding a smoking cigarette and with tears streaking down his face. The text replaces his facial features.

Panel 11: “Touch my world with your fingertips” with “world” in all caps. A cut through Dream’s glass prison, his left hand reaching from out of left frame towards the glass. In the darkness beyond it, the text hovers in the air.

Panel 12: “And we can have forever!”, with “forever” in all caps. The panel now has a red tinge to it. Dream’s hand has broken through the glass, which has been shattered, shards flying around his arm with the force of it. The text has been written on selected glass fragments.

Panel 13: “And we can love forever!” with “love” in all caps and in red. The panel shows Hob spray-painting an arrow and text reading “The New Inn” as graffiti onto a grey wall.

Panel 14: “Forever is our today” with both “forever” and “today” in all caps. The text is written on a circle in the panel, which frames Dream walking towards the New Inn, in soft pastel colours. Around that circle, Dream’s tools are arranged: in the top left, sparkling gold sand spills from a little bag, in the top right is Dream’s mask, and in the bottom right his ruby - now shattered.

Panel 15: “Who wants to live forever”, with “forever” in all caps. A coloured panel with a soft orange glow, of Dream talking to Hob in 1389. Hob is seated and smiling, while Dream is standing and smiling somewhat deviously. The text hangs between them, a shadow behind it suggesting a repeat of the line.

Panel 16: “Forever is our today” with “today” in all caps. A coloured panel of Dream and Hob’s meeting at the New Inn in the present day, both of them seated at a table and smiling warmly at each other. The text is once more positioned between them.

Panel 17: “Who waits forever, anyway…?” with “who” in all caps. The text starts at the top of the panel, running downwards, each word fainter than the last. At the bottom of the panel are Dream and Hob’s hands, gently holding each other. Behind their hands, there is a bright glow illuminating the dark background.

End ID.]

#WyDraws #dreamling #hob x dream #the sandman #sandman fanart #dream of the endless #hob gadling #who wants to live forever #image id #this is THE most dreamling song honestly #who waits forever anyway? well HOB SURE DOES #he really does want to live forever even if dream can't quite fathom that #but in the end it's less 'forever' that matters #because they have 'today' and that's the most important part #god this project POSSESSED me for a few days #i had the idea and couldn't rest until it became reality #my fave panels are the jessamy one and dream breaking through the glass #oh right #tw: mild gore #(for the Jessamy panel) #now i can rest in peace and go back to my fanfics #long post

[nikathingz]

HEY HEY LOVELY <3

Do you mind doing a Morpheus x reader angst where they get into an argument and he snaps at her with something rly rude and harsh and regrets it later when she cries and doesn’t talk to him for days? /happy end maybe :)

YES OMGG I LIVE FOR ANGST, might've went a lil overboard with it, I just spent the past 4 hours writing this lmao

Masterlist

A Century of Regret

Morpheus x Wife!Reader word count: 2565

You were no stranger to fights with the Dream king, being his wife for many centuries you often disagreed on things, mostly those were about the Dreaming. This one however was different, he had been extra on edge as of late because of a rouge nightmare that had been feeding off humans' fear in the waking world.

He had kept to himself the past few days, and had only spoken to Lucienne because he often found himself in the library trying to find a solution to his problem, but even that was curt.

You couldn't take it anymore, you felt more neglected than ever. Morpheus wasn't a perfect lover, he often found himself caught up in making dreams and nightmares but he always made you feel loved, in his own way. It's no secret that he wasn't much for outward affection, but it was subtle things he did that made you fall for him, reading to you in moments of solitude, light touches, soft smiles, and chaste kisses.

But this wasn't that, it was a whole new level, he had completely shut everyone out, including you. So you marched through the ivory hallways of the palace to the library and entered to find Lucienne organizing a bookshelf.

She turned and gave you a weary look "My lady, I believe the lord is not in a good mood at the moment-" you raised a hand to cut her off, lifting your chin authoritatively, you didn't like being this way with Lucienne, but you were determined to get the satisfaction you came for.

She fell silent and nodded her head, gesturing deeper into the library before turning and going back to her work and leaving you to venture through the library to find your husband.

He sat at a table flipping through a book and taking down mental notes. He didn't even look up at you as you stood across the table and placed your hands on it, leaning onto them. Jessamy had taken immediate notice of you and hopped across the table to rub her beak into your arm.

Your nostrils flared as he continued to flip through his book, you genuinely couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or was so caught up in his work that he had yet to notice your presence, the voice in the back of your head doubted the latter, especially because of Jessamy's actions, but you cleared your throat anyway.

He didn't look up but stopped flipping through the pages "I'm busy." he said simply, his tone was already annoyed but you held your ground.

"You've been busy for almost a week Morpheus-"

"Because I have been doing my duties to the dreaming!" His patience was easily gone as he rose from his chair and slammed his hands on the table startling both you and his raven. He had a fixed look on his face, a look you had seen but a few times before. "Do you not understand that I have a job to do? Or that this rouge nightmare is making that job monumentally harder?" He was cold, and your body went ridged in fear.

Your brow pinched and your lip quivered as pressure built in the back of your throat. You didn't know what you expected to come of this, maybe your naivety gave you hope that you could drag your husband away from his endless duties. You swallowed hard and lifted your chin as bitter tears spilled onto your cheeks.

"And what of your duties to me? You are my husband yes? Then why have I not seen an inkling of you for days?" You asked rhetorically and watched his jaw clench as he remained firm in his statement.

"As I thought," You said and turned on your heel, whisking yourself out of the library, ignoring Lucienne's pitiful look as you exited.

You found yourself spending the following days with residents of the dreaming rather than staying in the palace and waiting for your husband to finally cool off. You weren't childish enough to think he would come and apologize, he would likely brush it under the rug and expect you to drop it as you always had.

You couldn't though, as days passed a sinking feeling grew in your gut. You remained firm in your choice to reside outside of the palace, for now. He would send Jessamy after you when he finally decided enough was enough.

•••

Lucienne stood in the throne room with Morpheus as made sure he had all his tools. Her brow was creased in concern as they stood in silence, she cleared her throat and rocked forward on her heels.

"If I may lord, have you spoken to her ladyship?" She asked hesitantly and Morpheus looked at her over his shoulder.

"No, but I intend to once I return... once I can place my full attention to my wife" he mumbled as he looked past Lucienne to the throne room doors, the image of your flushed face that was streaked with tears had not left his mind since, and regret plagued him.

She inhaled a deep breath and pressed further "My lord, you are coming back aren't you?"

Confusion crossed the Endless's face, "Why would I not return, Lucienne?" He asked as he picked up his helm and slid it over his head. 

She shrugged and pursed her lips "I don't know, a presentiment." She paused as he pulled his pouch out of his pocket "As powerful as you are here in your realm, Dreams rarely survive in the waking world." She fidgeted with her hands as sand swirled on the ground and around the king of the dreaming. "Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there." She watched the typhoon of sand flurry around the throne room as Morpheus's voice rang out once more.

"I shall return Lucienne" and then he was gone, and she was left alone in the throne room.

•••

You felt the heavy weight on your shoulders and your brain fogged with fatigue. You placed a hand on your head and let out a slight gasp as you hunched over the cup of tea that Abel was so nice to give you. You briefly recognized the feeling of the whole responsibility of the Dreaming being placed on your shoulders, signaling you that your husband had departed from his realm.

"My lady are you alright?" You felt Abel place a worried hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with a gracious smile.

"Yes, I'm wonderful Abel, thank you" You assured him and continued your friendly brunch, Gregory and Cain occasionally popping in to say hi. 

•••

You often found yourself visiting the house of mystery as the years passed and more residents of the dreaming abandoned their kingdom.

You have received the brunt of Morpheus's disappearance, the first decade was the hardest. You grieved the disappearance of your husband every moment, it was heartbreaking to watch all of his creations lose faith in their king and blame you for it.

You slept most of the time as it took everything you had to try and upkeep the state of the Dreaming, but you were not an Endless, and this was not your realm. You were forced to watch the state of the Dreaming decay. Each day that passed constantly drained you of more energy both emotionally and physically.

Jessamy was the only reason you did not lose faith in your lover, and when she did not return you could not even find it in yourself to leave your room for a week. Lucienne had spent most of her time at your bedside trying to make sure you were okay, as much as you could be.

Every day after that was the same, you never left the palace anymore. You would simply drift around the crumbling hallways like a ghost for what seemed like an eternity, have some tea with Lucienne, then returning to your chambers to sleep for the remainder of what could be considered a day.

Eventually, the amount of time you rested, greatly outweighed the time you weren't lying in bed. You avoided reflective surfaces as they would kill you. The last time you looked at yourself, bags were sunk deep beneath your eyes, and your aura just radiated exhaustion. 

You opened your eyes, unsurprised with where you found yourself, in an old study, the rickety chair you sat in had been pulled over to sit just inside of the spire in front of the balcony so you could view the entirety of the Dreaming. You could see the huge ivory gates that would lead to the entrance of the dreaming and your heart panged in your chest.

They were just about the only thing that wasn't in shambles anymore, you sighed and sipped at the tea Lucienne had left for you, it was strange as she usually woke you and stayed with you for a while. This time she just disappeared. There was something different about today, your shoulders didn't feel as stiff and the fatigue behind your eyes didn't feel as immense.

•••

Morpheus and Lucienne stood at the entrance of the dreaming and she fidgeted with her thumbs as he opened the large gates. "Forgive me, sir, but... the realm, the palace... they are not as you left them" she spoke guiltily, as if she could've helped what became of the Dreaming after Morpheus left.

Morpheus felt his heart drop in his chest as he looked upon the basic rubble that had become of his beloved realm "What happened here? Who did this?" He turned to his librarian who seemed to shrink beneath his gaze.

Lucienne nibbled her lip as she tried to explain it to the best of her abilities "My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to... decay and crumble." She said and let her gaze travel to the crumbling palace.

"And the residents? The palace staff?" Morpheus's breath caught in his throat as he imagined you leaving the dreaming many decades ago, especially with how he left you.

Lucienne folded her hands behind her back "I'm afraid most have gone." She said sorrowfully.

"Gone?" Morpheus gave her an incredulous look, unbelieving of the words she spoke.

"Some went looking for you.” She reasoned

“And the others?” He turned and looked at her through narrowed eyes

“They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and-" She tried to explain but he cut her off.

"What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me? Do my own subjects not know me?" He asked as if she had all the answers.

"If I may, sir. It wouldn't be the first time one of The Endless had just-" She was going to bring up the prodigal brother of the endless but Morpheus had better things on his mind.

"Enough. I will not have Dreams and Nightmares preying on the waking world. I will bring them all back. I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again." He said matter a factly and looked over his shoulder to his trusted advisor. 

She gave him a smile and started to walk with him through the gates of the dreaming.

Lucienne felt a looming question hang in the air as they walked toward the palace. What of the beloved queen of the Dreaming? She said nothing but motioned for the dream king to follow her.

•••

They stood in front of a double door, Lucienne motioned inside and Morpheus understood what she meant, he lifted a hand to rap on the door but hesitated as he heard Lucienne's quiet footsteps retreat.

So you had stayed in the Dreaming, but what had become of you? You were the queen of his realm and shared in carrying the weight of keeping the realm, surely over a century of shouldering both your responsibilities had taken a toll. One question made him sick with worry though, were you still angry with him? Did you resent him for the horrible terms he had left you on over a century ago? 

He realized he was standing there for much longer than intended and finally rapped on the mahogany door, "Come in Lucienne..." he softly nudged the door open when he heard your small voice inside the crumbling room. His breath caught in his throat as he saw your slumped form facing away from him, your hair and clothes in disarray.

He walked a few steps into the room before speaking "My dear..." He said wearily and watched your form whip around with energy that had long such left you. He swore his heart cracked as he gazed upon your face, deep eye bags and face drained of all life until you laid eyes on him.

Tears had started pouring down your face as you timidly crossed the room to stand across from your lover, all thoughts leaving your head except for the one screaming at you to collapse into his arms and stay there for the rest of time. When you came within arms reach you stood timidly infront of him, and his frowned deepened. He lifted his hand and let his fingers grace over your cheeks to swipe away some of your tears.

His expression hardened as you choked out a sob, unbelieving that he was real after all this time.  "Y-your here, I-its been so long..." You sniffled as he enveloped you in his arms and you both sank to your knees, collapsing into each other.

He mumbled a string of apologies into your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, one he had missed for a century. Tears slipped down his pale cheeks as you shook your head, your face pressed into his chest as your arms were wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I'm so sorry my darling, I've spent a century regretting the terms we parted on and thinking about how you were left here to tend to the dreaming alone" He pulled you away from him to examine your ghostly state but you shook your head and tried to wipe away at some of his steady tears as he did for you.

"No Morpheus please, none of that matters. I don't care, because I have you here with me now," You assured him as he pulled you impossibly close to him, relishing your presence.

But the image of what he had done to you, the toll his absence, his realm, had taken on you and he would never forgive himself.

He had so many regrets but none of them mattered now because he finally had his beautiful wife in his arms again and he swore right then and there as you cried into each other's arms that he would do better, and he would never take you for granted again.

You made a similar promise to yourself as well, you couldn't begin to imagine what he had been through over the past century, one that was littered with regrets for the both of you.

 You would speak of it eventually, but for now, you would sit here together for as long as you both needed, the Dreaming could wait another day or so, you were Morpheus's first priority, and nothing would come before you again.

•••

I put my heart and soul into this. thank you. goodnight, its 1 am and i have school lmao.

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dreams and nightmares #morpheus #the dream king #the dreaming #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dark!morpheus #angst

[ansxit]

The Beauty and the Dreaming

[Morpheus x Reader (Beauty and the Beast Au)]

a/n} Yesyes I did post about the Howl's moving castle au,,, but this came first in my brain so here it is! i assure anyone who will read this though, the hmc au is on the way !! (will probably post it later this week lolol) btw comment if you want to be part of a tag list for this series !

(Also!! Please reblog + like!! It would really mean a lot to me !! <3)

Prologue, Part 1

- The cruel King of Dreams is cursed by a witch, doomed to be a beast forever and to be forgotten by humanity. But what happens when a determined woman finds herself in the abandoned halls, and happens to fall in love with the unlikeliest of people.

TW] Small Description of bone disfigurement

~Prologue~

There are trivial things known to the world, many mortals dedicate their lives and lineage seeking power, glory, fame. It's a deep concern as to why beings with no need for the shimmering stones or acknowledgment within history would want. But maybe in their anthropomorphic personification’s hearts lay the same greed a dragon has to their hoard. Or in the way a king will still demand everything from nothing; either way, beings such as the endless decided to want, and the frivolous things they surrounded themselves with became the utmost important in society.

One of these beings was none other than the King of Nightmares, ruler of the dreaming; Dream of the Endless. His kingdom in the mortal plane was grandiose and, to put it simply, beautiful. Ivory walls, golden inlay held just the support of the palace’s walls. The gardens were vast and endless, with blossoming flowers stretching towards the horizon, their soft petals drinking in the bright sun. The knowledge held between the walls of the palace was more than what could be gathered in several lifetimes. There was a nearby village, one full of his citizens who he liked to call Dreams, amongst them lived his creation called Nightmares. Together they lived to serve him and the grounds, and in return lived peacefully amongst the flowers and trees.

No mortals were permitted past the kingdom's gates, however. It was the one law the King enforced with an iron will, but eventually under the threat of his siblings, they were finally permitted past the gates for one night and one night alone.

On this fateful night, the sun was shielded from the kingdom, the dark clouds murmuring bringing upon an unwelcome storm.

-

“You act like you are going to a funeral.” Jessamy stated dryly. She moved to the other side of Dream, taking another pin and not-so subtlety stabbing him in the elbow with it. The suit he adorned was black, with the subtlest hints of gray when the candlelight struck. Each seam was pressed neatly, and just below his collar lay a glinting red ruby.

“I might as well be,” Dream declared, side eyeing her. Her dark skin blended beautifully with the black garbs she donned for that night. The patterns on her skirt matched the ones on his vest. It was a familial sign, perhaps even one of trust. “A party, inviting simple mortals into my palace.” He shook himself and Jessamy sent him a glare.

“Those ‘mortals’ are your people too; All of them dream, therefore they belong here just the same.”

“They are insects, crawling and destroying any life they are granted with. Let it be a miracle to them they are even permitted past the gardens.” The Lord of Dreams squared his shoulders, daring her to even attempt an argument. Jessamy lifted her chin, defiance glimmering in her clever eyes.

“My lord, if you will-”

“Sire,” a voice interrupted from the door. Standing there was a woman in a blue vest, with a pocket watch held out like an offering. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but there is a woman requesting your presence.” The Lord of Dreams stepped off the podium, not sparing Jessamy a single glance.

Enchanting music swirled around him as they exited the West Wing, making their way to the main hall where the party was commencing. Servants bowed as the Lord of Dreams passed, and many of the partygoers below the bannister whispered at the shadows that followed behind him. Outfits with stark white frills floated around the room, the chandeliers casting bright light above them all, and the musicians sat in the far left corner of the room, their director joyfully conducting the tune. The King looked down at the dreamers, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips.

How could mortals beat the beauty that were his citizens, it was a question that needed no answer; they could never compare.

“She seeks an audience with you,” Lucienne whispered, motioning towards an older woman, gazing at the golden decor with wonder in her eyes. The longer the king stared at her, a feeling of uneasiness slipped through him, and the dreamers that surrounded her appeared to sense it too.

The rain beat like a steady drum against the windows, lightning flashed as the cloaked woman side-stepped into three, all holding the same cutting eyes. But when the thunder roared to follow, it was the one beggar woman, knelt in front of him.

“Your highness,” The woman whispered, her gnarled hand reaching out to grab at his lapel. “Please, let me seek shelter from this storm- there will be no trouble amongst your realm, I will leave when the sun breaks.” Dream slowly took her hand off of him, and his lips curled in disgust.

“You have no right,” He paused, his tone laced with poison, “to lay your hands upon me.” Old anger as hot as burning stars shot through him, and the shadows that danced behind him grew taller and leaner.

“My lord please, I beg of-”

“You shall beg nothing of me,” He sneered, “You will leave my palace at once, and my realm for that matter. And if I ever see your face again, you will live to regret it.”

The woman knelt to the floor, dejected. The Lord moved to walk away, finished with the events of the party, but stopped when what sounded like laughter began to radiate from her weathered bones. The King of Dreams watched the one woman revealed to be three, and for the first time in his existence, He felt afraid.

Wrenching gasps and screams filled the room as most of the party goers watched the women orbit around their king, all cackling as he spun to protect himself. The harsh rain rattled the windows, threatening to break them.

“One shall not turn down the fates that lead you,” The Crone sneered at him, her eyes piercing his soul like a sharpened blade, twisting deeper into the grooves of his very being.

“You are still young and foolish, Endless.” The Mother tutted, reaching out to grab his chin before shoving Dream away. “Appearances are deceiving, but you won’t worry about that anymore.”

He fell into the shoulders of the Maiden, who giggled and kicked him to the ground.

“You shall be cursed with a beast as cruel and ugly as your heart,” The Maiden said, her black eyes shimmering as the mist began to swirl around Dream. “Since you act like a monster, why not look like one as well.” The air became heavy in the circle casted around him, and Dream found himself

“A wall will be cast, the mortals will forget you and your pitiful prowess.” The Mother stalked around him, cackling as he tried to stand, but invisible forces shackled him to the ground, as if his own shadows strangled him.

“It will stretch as far as your gates, so no one may ever find you again,” The Crone sneered, “You will be forgotten, and maybe then you shall learn humility again.” The one that was three began to circle him, a gray mist swept through the ballroom, the guests all but gone as the magic ran to capture them all.

The sounds of bones popping and crunching competed with the symphony of the storm raging outside, as well as the loud cackling from the Fates. In the distant halls, Dream could hear the cries of his servants and citizens. The dreams and nightmares that brought meaning to his realm, swept into the storm of his mistakes. As his collarbones cracked, he finally caved and let out a horrid scream- one that felt to shatter the windows and crack the mountains holding his realm together.

Many centuries passed, and the people outside the kingdoms forgot about the Sandman and his realm. Nightmares ran rampant through the waking world, and mortals fell into fitful dreams, terrorized by the fears that followed them.

-

“Y/n!”

A voice broke you out of your reverie, and warm hands pulled you out of the way of an oncoming wagon. With a beating heart, you turned to find your younger sister, Rose and behind her, Jed who was flushed from trying to pull the both of you back onto the sidewalk.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Rose chastised, “You’re going to give me gray hairs, and we’re not even thirty yet!” Her tone was playful, but the way she gripped your hand told you she was terribly worried; well, for good reason, You supposed.

“Oh, just daydreaming I suppose.” You squeezed her hand and smiled down at Jed. “I dreamt of a fantastical castle, with gold everywhere the eye could see.” He broke out into a grin and you eagerly continued on. “There were these two little raven’s concocting mischievous plans.” Rose Simple rolled her eyes and, with you and Jed in separate hands, walked you both through the traffic and into the markets.

“Like those ones?” Jed pointed, and you followed his hand to some black birds perched on one of the building's roofs.

“Hm, I believe those are crows, but it’s a common mistake to make. In my dreams the ravens were accompanied by…” You trailed off, and watched two men walking together in the distance, the happiest of smiles on their faces. Your heart tugged as they reached to hold each other’s hands, faintly remembering wisps of black hair. “A beautiful prince.” You finished, and Rose turned back to give you a questioning glance.

“And this prince was very kind,” A soft smile crossed your features and you reached over to grab Jed’s hand. “He treated his subjects fairly and there was never a cloudy day in their kingdom.” He hummed and they lazily swung their interlocked hands.

“Well what happened next?” Jed asked, letting you lead him out of the way of other pedestrians as Rose hurried on to hit all of the needs from the grocery list.

“I dunno, I suppose I’ll find out tonight when I dream again.” You grinned.

“Rosie, I want to dream too!” He exclaimed, running up past them both and climbing onto the fountain’s edge. “I want to be a prince with a castle and ravens.” Kids and adults alike stopped what they were doing to watch Jed balance on the fountain. The nearest people covered their child’s ears, while most hurried to move away from him. Some noticed you as well, averting their gazes and keeping a wide berth away from You and Rose.

“That’d be lovely, wouldn’t it bud,” Rose said, turning to give you a hard stare and motioning towards the vendors. She went up to him and held his hand as he walked along the side, “But we have Y/n’s dreams, and her stories— so it's better that she tells them, right Jed?”

You sighed, choosing to ignore whatever convincing argument Rose said to satiate Jed for the evening, instead beginning to pick out some fresh fruits from the bin. Dreaming was a finicky thing nowadays, with some falling asleep and never waking up, as if in a coma; Which made people fear everytime they fell asleep. Most simply never dream, just drifting through the nothingness for the hours until they awoke. But you had been one of the lucky few, if not only, people who still dreamt. While they weren’t as much as the fantastical adventures you would tell to Jed before sending him to sleep, they were still special in their own right. But nothing was wrong with a little extra imagination every now and then.

The golden kingdom still tugged at your mind as you purchased the fruits, thanking the man and going to find Rose again, hoping she wasn't as furious as she pretended to be. As you walked away, you noticed an annoyingly familiar face jogging to catch up to you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Rowan called, briskly passing people and giving you a cheeky grin the closer he came. Now, you were not a hateful person; but Rowan was absolutely the exception. He was vulgar, loud, obnoxious, and somehow the prized jewel of the town you and your siblings resided in. According to every other woman in the village, he was the handsomest, rugged, and had everyone tripping over themselves to even get his attention. He had money to waste, and one of the most skilled huntsmen in the town. Beside him was “Hey,” He greeted, “What're you doing here?”

“Oh, Hello,” You greeted with a grimace. “We’re getting groceries, like many others are today.”

“We?” Rowan’s eyes narrowed and he began looking behind you. “Have you been holding out on me N/n? Last I heard you weren't interested in anyone.”

A warm hand slid into yours and you looked over to see a very pissed off Rose glaring up at him. Behind her was Jed, holding her basket of vegetables from earlier.

“We, as in her family. Besides, it's not your business whether or not she’s courting someone.” Rose squared her shoulders and if it was even possible, Rowan narrowed his eyes further.

“He's not worth it,” You sighed and as you moved to walk away, Rowan’s hand shot out like a snake and grabbed your wrist.

“Come on, Y/n, just let me take you out for one night— I can make it worth your while.” You grimaced and wrenched your arm away.

“No offense, but I wouldn’t consider it even if you were the last man on earth.” You took Rose’s hand and started walking back to the path home, with Jed walking two paces ahead.

As you walked off, one of Rowan’s hunting buddies came up beside him, and clapped him on the back.

“I don’t see why you leave them alone, you said it yourself on how you despise her spitfire of a sister.”

Rowan smiled at your reatreating figure andturned around to face his friend.

“That's where you’re right, but oh so wrong. It's the evasive prey that make it the best hunt. She'll come around, and that's when I'll make her my wife.”

-

“I don’t like the way he talks to you.” Rose grumbled, holding open the door for Jed with her hip. You sighed and grabbed the basket from her arms and set it on the table inside. “I mean who does he think he is? The king of England?” You snorted and Jed started giggling.

“He certainly has audacity where he lacks brains,” You mused, lighting a match to get started on dinner. “I'm thinking some stew for tonight, how about you?” You looked over at Jed, who was sorting through the fresh produce. He looked up and nodded at you, and Rose walked over to join him— getting a pail out to wash the fruits in.

Jed started to hum as he worked, with you and Rose joining in occasionally. It was a song their mother had taught them, and eventually found it's way to you when you were all younger. Between the three of you, You had a different mother than them, being born just weeks before Rose was due. There was a little strain on your family relationship, but once your guys’ father left the picture, the hurt became easier and there became no blur between you and your siblings anymore. While you and Rose were similar in age, you took on the responsibility of caring for the two of them when their mom passed away. Of course, Rose wouldn’t let you take all the responsibility, and together you tried the best you could to give Jed the best childhood he deserved.

At times it became difficult, but when there were moments like these, it made everything worth it.

But what none of the siblings realized, that this would be the last peaceful dinner any of them could have for a long, long time.

-

Despite what Rose had said, Jed always knew the stories Y/n were actually just her dreams. He had tried to read the same books as her, trying to find the ending to whatever bedtime story he sought that night, but they weren’t the same, and his imagination couldn’t do it justice. But he didn’t quite understand

His teacher wasn’t too pleased to have him tell the wonders of dreaming to his classmates, and after Rose found out, Y/n stopped talking about the Sandman. Instead, she talked about day-dreaming, using her imagination to create her own adventures to tell to her little brother.

He desperately wanted to dream, he wanted to go on incredible journeys he imagined and go back to his sisters and get to tell them the stories of his adventures. But his wish remained ungranted, and sleep became a very disappointing venture.

But then, one fateful night, he found himself wandering a lush garden, with hedges twice his height, and flowers that bloomed colors he had never seen before. A childish joy overtook him as he ran through the gardens, wild animals and butterflies took off as he chased the breeze that flew around him. He finally broke through the garden and his jaw dropped in amazement as Y/n's storytelling voice drifted through as a reminder.

A grandiose, golden castle sat in the center of the garden, with a fresh snow falling from the skies above. With the castle was clearly in disarray, it meant nothing to the young boy who could finally find an adventure for himself.

The grand floor was completely deserted, and no candles were lit as far as Jed could tell. “Maybe the prince had found a different castle.” Jed thought to himself, running his hands along the ivory railing and sneezed at the dust that flew into his face. Soft whispered trailed behind him at he climbed the stairs, but he couldn't care less; First he wanted to explore.

Jed managed to find a ballroom with the windows shattered in it, many many guest rooms that he believed could house the entire village if it wanted to. He also found a dining hall and kitchens, and then finally he stumbled upon the master bedroom.

While the rest of the castle appeared to just lack some dusting, this room seemed to have been pillaged- or as if a wild beast was set free to destroy everything in its path. He found a painting of a pale man with wispy black hair and equally black eyes, but it's face had been slashed and it's frame was cracked in many places. Jed grinned as he began to imagine whatever prince owned this castle facing in a terrible battle to defend his citizens and the final showdown happening in the very room he stood in.

In the far right of the room, lit perfectly by the moonlight was a rose protected by a glass dome.

“The treasure the prince was protecting,” Jed whispered excitedly. He reached out to touch the glass but a giant clawed hand grabbed his wrist painfully before he could do so. Gold shivers wracked his body as he looked up at the beast that had caught him.

He'd couldn’t find the words as he stared at the monstrosity that towered over him. It must've been at least seven foot, with black, matted fur draped over its hulking form, feathers protruded from the creatures should blades into giant wings, and it stood on hind legs, like a person would. The creature wore tattered royal clothing and a glinting, red ruby hung from it’s neck. The scariest thing about it though, Jed thought as he saw the pointy fangs protruding from the creatures mouth, was it's incredibly human-like eyes. Intact, they looked just like the dark eyes in the painting of the prince Jed had seen.

“What are you doing in here, mortal,” It snarled, and Jed whimpered as the grip on his wrist tightened. “You trespass into a realm that is not meant for your pitiful existence.”

“I'm- I'm sorry!” Jed cried, and fast crocodile tears rolled down his face. “I just wanted to have an adventure, I didn’t realize��!” He broke off into sobs as the creature bared its razor-sharp teeth again.

“You should have known better, boy.” He hissed. “You mortals are all the same, destroying any good thing we have left. Maybe if we lock you up for an eternity you shall learn your lesson.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jed cried again, and the beast wrenched his arm hard enough to pop his shoulder. The boy let out a terrible scream as he was dragged deep below the kingdom. His cell was small, and there was little moonlight that made it through the bars.

“It's just a dream, it's just a dream.” Jed told himself, but when he opened his eyes, he was still in the prison. He pinched his arm, nothing. More sobs wracked through his body and he curled up into himself. Rose was right, dreaming was too dangerous for him, and now he'd never see his sisters again.

a/n} Please reblog + like!! It would really mean a lot to me !! <3

#fanfiction #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x reader #beauty and the dreaming #beauty and the beast Au #lucienne #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #the sandman netflix #morpheus fic #morpheus fanfiction #rose walker #jed walker

[rriavian]

According to your universe, which feeling Corinthian feels most towards Dream? Is it Desire or devotion or anything else?

And which feeling Dream feels most towards Corinthian? Is it affection? Or Desire? Or possessiveness or something else?

It is not necessary to mention one answer only. You may write a paragraph on what range of feelings they have for each other

Jessamy, my dearest—you have been incredibly patient thank you so much for this question! I’ve been thinking about this for weeks (it’s been sat in my drafts since before I went on holiday) but spent a while trying to get the wording right. I hope you enjoy my answer <3

I do think it’s love! Just perhaps not a human love.

The Baiting the Trap ‘verse works on the premise that after hundreds of years of sexual tension the Corinthian finally gets the chance to act on it as well as his anger at his creator. He was pretty certain Dream was going to destroy him afterwards so decided to just go for it. He’d been cool and collected for far too long and the lid was not going back on that box now it’s open. Dream is no less interested (he did initiate after all) but though far more unhinged when it comes to love/jealousy his sexual desire is a bit more chill. Idk, maybe it’s because I’m ace but I see him as being like ‘eh, depends on the sex so you better make it good’ when it comes to taking someone to bed.

It’s the devotion in observable/tangible actions that I think reels him in, that I think is the real lure, the single minded focus of another all for him is something Dream doesn’t bother trying to resist. He'll never see it as a weakness either. I think it stems partly from a unmet need to feel entirely accepted, entirely wanted, when so often there are parts of him that others find too extreme.

Too sharp.

So Baiting the Trap is still only just entering the second ‘arc’ which means there’s a lot more to some but…

The antagonism, the extremes, the spectrum of morality and the acceptance/competition of each other’s sharpness…it’s always going to be a large part of their relationship. Though I would add that I think the Corinthian’s greedy possession is a grounding force, which I’ve mostly implied up to this point but there will be some more explicit confirmations coming up in the series. Dream likes how fiercely he’s claimed, how intent his nightmare is on knowing him. Yeah it's the Corinthian figuring out weaknesses too but…it’s looking beneath. Trying to see him as he is.

It’s wanting to.

And it’s wanting to put his fingerprints all over him.

Dream made the Corinthian (which gives us all the wonderful facets of a creator/creation dynamic) but…to him there is something unique about being chosen. About laying the bait and having the Corinthian decide to take it every time. Even if Dream knows that he will, knows that he can offer himself, he isn’t forcing it. As much as that prods at the Corinthian’s desire for agency, stings his pride, it also gives to it. In a way BTT Dream is soothing the original wound of the Corinthian’s betrayal for them both. He rebelled by turning away, by leaving, but this is him deciding to act that frustration out while also no longer denying how much he wants Dream.

So just by being so obsessed with defeating him in such a deeply personal—up close and incredibly intimate—way, the Corinthian is effectively giving Dream all the attention he could ever want.

Promising a constant supply of the devotion I think Dream requires to feel satisfied by a lover.

Though it’s by no means one sided. The Corinthian gets a taste of looking at the bigger picture, at Dream’s responsibility for the larger scale, and that’s compelling to him in this context because understanding it allows him to enjoy what it means for his creator to turn away for even a little while. Disgruntlement over Dream’s commitment to his responsibilities has always been (and always will be) a source of tension in their relationship. But this is also a manifestation of the Corinthian’s canon need to prove he was made right—that I also tend to interpret as his wish to prove he is the most worthy believer, the only one to do it correctly—so now he dares blasphemy so he can worship without distance.

While Dream is enjoying the novelty of being the singular object of another's focus, the Corinthian gets to enjoy moments of having what is essentially a universe stare him down without blinking. And that fulfills his own need for attention, his own desire to feel wanted. It’s like sauntering right up to a god busy answering prayers and grabbing them by the hand.

It’s saying ‘reply later I want you now’.

Of course possessiveness and obsession often appear alongside an additional dynamic of ownership that borders on objectification. But with these two I’ve always seen it differently.

Above I mentioned Dream finding the Corinthian’s possessive nature to be a grounding force, and this is really just a continuation of that point because the Corinthian feels the same way about Dream. I don’t think dehumanisation/objectification really works the way we’re used to conceptualising it with characters that have never been human in the first place. We can’t take humanity away from them but what we can take is personhood. Which I think is something both Dream and the Corinthian value incredibly highly. To be honest, I think that in many ways they both use what we might see as objectification to affirm identity in/to each other, to affirm personhood.

It’s a return of self, not a denial of it, humanity the real box when the Corinthian and Dream have always been Other.

It might sound odd but I see a lot of their relationship through this lens. The Corinthian is a ‘thing’ in the same way as Dream is, an object of the same kind, with a function and a role, but that doesn’t deny a sense of self. They don’t need to be in conflict.

So I suppose in BTT that’s really what it’s about. How their relationship supports a reaffirmation of both of their identities. The Corinthian is Dream’s creation, his nightmare, his masterpiece, but that doesn’t mean he’s just a thing to him. To me the creator/creation dynamic adds identity, adds agency, contributes to the fullness of character rather than taking away from it. Neither of them have to scale themselves down. They don't have to make themselves smaller. So that's another part of what these characters can find in each other, part of the balance I like to write, part of how they ground themselves while also enjoying testing their own extremes.

It’s love and possessiveness and you help me keep my balance. It’s I can be me to the fullest, it’s no part of me is ugly to you. It’s nothing will make me look away. It’s I will fight with you forever and you will let me, you won’t burn out, you can take all that I am.

You want all of what I am and that is love.

#corintheus #dream of the endless #the corinthian #thank you for the ask! #I do love talking about these two!! #if you have a follow up question please feel free to send another ask #i promise i won't take so long this time!! #Sandman meta #fic meta #about my own fic #but hopefully still interesting

[wordsinhaled]

Unsent Letter from Dream of the Endless to Hob Gadling; c. June 1916

yes, dream's seal is a raven (is it jessamy? probably, and once he is free i imagine he doesn't seal his letters for a while); and his signature can be a rorschach test, of course. i'm plagued by the thought of this prescient letter, written just 3 days before dream is captured on june 10, 1916; the last letter to be preserved in the dreaming before his imprisonment; and all the numberless others that dream must have composed in his head while sitting in that cage for over a hundred years. he really should have sent this one.

(written with kwz warsaw dreaming on original crown mill laid paper)

click to see details!

other letters in this series

June 7, 1916

H—

Since my last letter made plain to me the true depth of my affection for you, I have endeavored to banish you from my thoughts. I have tried to return to some mockery of emotional asceticism, of the kind at which I pretended before you came into my life and turned all reason on its head.

It is the safe choice, the wise choice, the right choice for me to sever our attachment wholly and utterly.

Yet this would not be the first time I have been unwise, nor the first I would be proven gravely wrong.

Work at it as I might, Hob Gadling, I cannot rid myself of you.

You are ever in my mind, and constantly does my attention return to you. Were I to dream, it would be of being with you in the waking world, of knowing how it is you while away your smallest moments. I would know all the mundanities of your confounding, beautiful existence.

How do you take your tea, when you make it for yourself? And how would you prepare it for me?

To know humanity is to be overwhelmed by it. But I would succumb to the great tumult of knowing, if it meant you might concede to be mine, even for a moment.

I forget myself, my purpose, in loving you. You bring me nearer to mortality. And I choose it—this madness of spirit, this absence of logic—gladly, madly I choose it.

I presage no good will come of it. Universes have been rended by my folly; by my selfishness. Still, selfishly, I will not be parted from you. From your warmth; from your life; from your company.

Know that wherever I should go, you dwell always with me. That however much time might pass between our meetings, an infinity of happiness may be contained in a single second's time together—and it is these infinities which sustain me.

Know you have written yourself indelibly on a thousand scrolls of parchment in the wretched scriptorium that is my heart; you continue writing, and continue, and each day I hope for a new line.

—M

#the sandman #dreamling #regency epistolary dreamling #PLEASE CRY WITH ME THIS INFLICTED ITSELF ON MY BRAIN SO NOW I HAVE TO INFLICT IT ON Y'ALL I'M SORRY

[beautifulsnake2162020]

Beautiful Anomaly (Part 2): Morpheus x FReader

(GIF by skulandcrossbones: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/skulandcrossbones/691820696337317888?source=share)

Morpheus x FemReader (present day, its a little hard to explain)

A couple of disclaimers:

1.) This is all based on the Netflix show and I have 0 background on the graphic novel it is based on (so don't expect it to be faithful);

2.) This is a fan work, the only benefit I derive from this is sharing it with the community.

Guess who got inspired and decided to upload this part earlier than expected 😂 As usual the original was way too long so I had to cut it (so yes there is inevitably a part 3 which was originally part of part 2).

Again I would like to thank everyone who loved "Beautiful Anomaly (Part 1)". To those who wants to read part 1 first (which I highly recommend since I'm not sure you could understand part 2 without the context and world building of part 1) you may read it here:

Taglist (if you want to be a part of the taglist just comment requesting so): @winxschester @true-queen-of-mischief @laydreams

You feel Jessamy travel back to the realm of the Dreaming as your physical body is asleep. Seeing the perspective of a raven travelling was an astounding experience. You vaguely remember being a bird once, but that was several eons ago. The plan was that Jessamy would tell Lucienne about what had happened and get possible back up for his rescue.

However

You suddenly feel a gust of pain in your chest. Or rather in Jessamy's chest. It's as if there was a barrier to the gates of the Dreaming.

"Ma'am, I don't understand, this wasn't a problem before." No matter how hard she pushed, the invisible barrier did not allow her to enter.

"Jessamy don't force it, can you still find your way back here?"

"I believe so, I've learned to recognize your energy. Lord Morpheus showed how and he was right; you're very easy to find." So he taught her that too eh.

You briefly awaken and Jessamy had just landed on your window sill.

"I don't understand, why was there a barrier. I don't think Lucienne would do that." You were starting to get legitimately tired when an idea popped up.

"New plan: you rest. I'll inform Lucienne when I enter the dreaming." Jessamy was tired out and simply nodded before gathering some of your clothes and making a bed for herself.

Once you find yourself in the Dreaming, you do your best to summon Lucienne into your part of the Dreaming realm.

However

Something doesn't seem right. It's almost as if you were in a barrier as well. Or rather your dream has been isolated from the dreaming realm.

This can't be because Morpheus is not there. There have been a handful of times when he would meet you or Death outside of the Dreaming in the past and it was nothing like this. Based on what Jessamy has told you, they weren't gone for that long so it shouldn't have any effect on the dreaming realm.

You try transporting yourself to the library. Even if Lucienne isn't there, it was a reliable place to leave a message for Mervyn to deliver to her. But alas you weren't able to do so either.

You wake up puzzled.

"Any luck ma'am?"

"No Jessamy, it seems I too am subject of the barrier. Or rather my area of dreaming is now isolated and beyond my own imagination, I couldn't contact anyone from the castle." Jessamy tilted her head, discerning.

"Maybe ma'am your part of the Dreaming was somehow moved to the waters. Since it has been awhile since you were actively there, your dreams are now in the waters where everyone else dreams are stored. Perhaps that is why you can't summon anyone." She has a point.

"Have you recovered your strength?" You see Jessamy nod back at you.

"Go back to the place where he is imprisoned. Be discreet. The point is to observe the layout of the place, and the habits of those that guard him. No engagement of any kind. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." And she flew off, using what little of the Dreaming realm she could use to cut short the distance from your place to his prison.

While she was spying and recording the layout of the mansion, you start your own part of preparations.

Fortunately, you were born into a wealthy family and it was no problem for you to access it. You were an only child of your parents, the sole grandchild of your paternal grandfather who was part of the new money in his generation which later on you reap and benefit from his passing. Among the grandchildren of your maternal grandfather, you were the only woman, and this lead to both your still alive maternal grandparents to spoil you in whatever way they can. For being people of old money wealth, they were surprisingly supportive when you told them how you wanted to visit England. You did your best not to roll your eyes at how loudly your grandfather was thinking that maybe you could finally find a husband.

This wasn't a social vacation. It was an intelligence operation.

Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself anyway. That it was only that and nothing more.

Jessamy returned to you and together you made a rough draft of the layout that she has observed so far.

"His tools are hidden somewhere, but I can't tell where."

"We'll worry about his tools when he's out."

"I see, oh and I've managed to see the title of the spell book they used." You write down the spell book for a later visit to the library.

"Have you seen him?" She nods sadly. You could already sense the images that she gives you from her mind.

He was trapped in a glass sphere. Still within the magical circle that captured him. Now they've also added a moat of water surrounding him. The guards that watch are alert, but you can tell that they are sleep deprived.

You were about to ask, but a pill bottle was opened and you were able to see enough to be able to read the label.

Forced March

To keep them awake and to prevent them from falling asleep. You don't know all of the ingredients, but you do recall the drug was made with extracting caffeine from both coffee beans and tea leaves and blended with other things to further stimulate the nervous system.

Apart from that, based on what Jessamy has heard: They've recruited enough members into their group to make sure that no one is sleep deprived for long and that each set of guards has had more than adequate amounts of sleep.

The bad news, Morpheus cannot use his power of dreams.

"The Corinthian must have informed them on how to bind and imprison him. My poor lord." You hear the despair in her thoughts. You silently agreed that its the rogue nightmare who has taken initiative to help them imprison his master so he may roam about free.

The good news, if they want to stay awake and have only conscious thoughts then so be it. His weakness, was your strength and well within your abilities.

You just need to make your way to London and be within radius of the imprisonment at the very least. It would be better if you were on location but that's too dangerous and risky. Especially if they have wards, and other unseen magical protection that could harm you if you used your abilities carelessly. The spell book Jessamy saw was one of many, and you weren't taking that risk.

Or at least not uninformed.

If you were going to be on location, at most its to see if you can talk to him using conscious thoughts, and to think of possible escape routes.

For awhile this was yours and Jessamy's routine, you did on the ground research while she spied the manor and what they were doing to Morpheus. You were making arrangements for having enough clothes and resources to be able to go to London for a couple of months at least.

At this point you didn't care if you have to sleep with some son of an aristocratic family and marry into one just to stay in London. If anything it will finally make your grandfather shut up about a husband, and you can be closer to Morpheus.

Not in that way. You mean that in a professional manner. The world would be destroyed if dreams and nightmares could just escape and walk in the waking world.

Or at least that's what you told yourself.

When the time came for you to finally travel to London (albeit with your parents and grandparents but they respect you enough to allow you to roam alone), you can feel Jessamy's excitement in the possibility that Morpheus may finally be free.

You keep telling her that this is still intelligence gathering.

"But there's hope ma'am, hope that we can finally free him." If she was human, you could easily imagine her jumping up and down and running around the room fueled by her excitement.

You didn't have the heart to dash her hopes.

It's not that you weren't an optimist. You like to view yourself as a realistic optimist. Is there a chance that you two could successfully get him out? Yes. Was that chance very small? Also yes. But is there a chance to further spy on them? Very much so.

When you arrived in London and was introduced to aristocratic circles that knew your grandparents, news began to spread about a party in the manor of Burgess.

The place where Morpheus was imprisoned.

"That old creep? Why would anyone want to attend his parties?" scoffs one of the bachelors that you were introduced to.

"Hey now, a party is a party. Especially one wherein I could get away from these old farts." says a woman who is the same age as you, but you turned 19 a few months before her. Apparently the consensus among aristocrats of your generation was that Burgess was a strange man, part of the occult and mystic arts, and that doing anything associated with him is considered to be ungentlemanlike or unladylike.

In short, the perfect place for new aristocrats to rebel against the former generation while being hedonistic.

The perfect cover up for an intelligence mission.

"Is there a party tonight?" You ask taking a sip of the white wine in your glass.

"No, but there's one on Saturday." the woman says to you.

"Then I guess we know where we'll be on Saturday." you give them a smirk as you take a drink from water to balance out the alcohol.

"Oh forget it you two. It's by invitation only."

"No, based from what I know, its only the first hundred to arrive."

"No! Its-" you no longer followed the argument. You got what you need anyway. Later that night in the privacy of your bedroom balcony as you pretend to be writing in your journal while you and Jessamy were conversing as quietly as you can. She was seated on the chair beside you, hidden away from most perspectives except for anyone looking from above.

"Again, what's going to happen on Saturday?" From your periphery, you could see her raising her head through the movement of her beak.

"An intelligence mission."

"What is the objective?"

"Observe and report."

"Observe and report what?"

"Any possible routes that were hidden off that we can use."

"Is that all?"

"...no" she says uneasily. She's forgotten something.

"Check on Morpheus-"

"CHECK ON LORD MORPHEUS!" You could hear her internally berate herself for forgetting that part.

"Jessamy, focus. There's no guarantee that I myself can physically check on him. I need to stay within the party so no one suspects. And for your safety, be discreet." You keep your voice gentle but firm. Enough to show that you're not angry, but firm enough to call her focus.

"But how are you going to communicate with him?"

"If he's awake, I'll project my conscious thoughts to him. If he's asleep, I'll use the energy of the conscious thoughts around me to wake him up."

"And if he doesn't respond?"

"Then at least we'll know that the glass sphere also blocks off telepathy of any kind before actually rescuing him." CRASH! A sound breaks your conversation with Jessamy, startling her into almost flying out for safety. You take large steps towards your door and open it slightly to see what's going on.

You see your grandfather was responsible for the now broken glass set. But this time you've noticed that your grandma wouldn't mind. From what you could see, he's in tears and your grandma embraces him and cries with him.

"Avery is dead!"

"Shh, my love we don't know. The letter says he has the sleeping sickness that's all."

"But Jane, no one has awaken from that. It's an early death sentence."

"My love, have hope, maybe he'll be the first one to wake up." Your grandfather couldn't find it himself to reply as he continues to weep in your grandma's arms.

Your heart breaks for him.

The sleeping sickness was only a confirmation to what you've already known since Jessamy told you that Morpheus was imprisoned.

The waking world is suffering, because the world of the unconscious is out of control without their master. You may not know the true extent of what that entails, but it was important now that Morpheus returns home to the Dreaming.

Even if he had hurt you and your feelings.

This was no longer about you, the being. It was about the world you lived in.

You take one last glance before giving your grandparents-your grandfather-the privacy he needs to weep and grieve. To mourn a dear friend of his and grandma. You may not personally know who this Avery is. But nevertheless he has made an impact large enough to make a normally jolly man weep.

You give yourself time to reflect. You never thought you would be back in Britain. Your previous lifetime before this one was rather short and tragic. A woman who had cancer who died before she could really have a life. Died in poverty and was probably thought to be insane for most of her life. People could later on debate if you really were insane or if the society just brushed poor women like you under the rug to be ignored.

The only reason why you were even able to make it to 20 was because of a good doctor who was one of the few who didn't mind keeping you company. You and he exchanged thoughts and he was one of the few who still gave you some sense of dignity for a patient whom everyone thought was just insane. You asked him why one day. When he could be doing anything else in the world, he chooses to spend time with a sickly woman who was worthless in the eyes of society.

"I don't think you are worthless."

"Why is that doctor?"

"Because unlike many people, you and your stories are interesting and captivating."

"You have interesting stories too doctor. I think you have no idea how your stories have really encouraged me to do my best to live."

"I never thought a story about a mysterious murder victim would have that effect on you."

"It makes me want to know more. And I can only know more if I do my best to live." You stop briefly coughing as he rubs your back. He has already given you your medicine earlier, there was nothing else he could medically do at this point. Looking back, you suspect that maybe he stayed with you because he knew the power of the mind to prevail. Especially when it has company with similar interests.

"It seems like you are one of the few people who think that way. Everyone else thinks that its too confusing."

"Have you tried showing the logic behind how he connected the clues?" He gives you a sad smile.

"I don't think people would like going into the more technical details. Especially if they are outsiders to certain industries. Even those inside would simply think about work and would just be bored to death."

"Is Moby Dick one of your inspirations doctor?" He laughs as he shakes his head.

"Absolutely not, its a fiction that I detest. I couldn't get passed all the industry specific details about whaling."

"Well that's good to know. Maybe its the way you present it doctor. I quite enjoy the story, but I especially love how you would explain the patterns leading up to the killer. Maybe there is a common ground wherein you could write all the details, while keeping it so interesting." You cough once again, this time harder. He gives you warm water with honey to soothe your throat.

"I'll tell you what doctor. What if you could tell it to me first, and then I'll tell you when it gets confusing. Then you could explain it further to me and why it is so important to finding out who the killer is." He pondered briefly in thought before you could sense a warm sense of companionship from his conscious thoughts.

"Very well, I shall have to pay tribute and credit you as my co-author."

"No, doctor I'm not. This is your story, I just want to help make it audience friendly that's all." It wouldn't do you good to simply be sidelined. Based on recent history and how society tends to treat female writers, you're happy to remain an anonymous collaborator.

"That simply won't do. Please tell me how I can give you credit." You think for awhile as you take a breath to calm yourself after a coughing fit.

"When you become successful, can you make me a character in one of your stories?"

"Of course, shall I put your name?"

"No, I don't like my name in this lifetime. May I change it?" You whispered what was your preferred name and preferred profession.

Afterwards his doctor visits also became editing sessions to that now famous story. You weren't able to read it back then. Most of the substantial meat in the story was finished. He just needed to arrange it into the story you got so invested in. You sensed that Death was about to arrive, that you signed your last note to the good doctor whom you have confided in plenty of things. How thanks to help and insight, you were no longer jealous of Hob Gabling.

"He may not want to admit it, and he may not even recognize it. But we all search for companionship at some point. You say he is very empathetic but rigid?"

"Yes, he hurt my feelings by not going to me. And yet I can't blame him for his rigidness because its a way for him to be in control. Otherwise, the world would come to an end."

"Then maybe its because that's one of the few ways he can show he cares."

"He's had women come to his bed who felt loved. I could hardly believe he's ignorant of this fact."

"But have you considered that he admires you so much, because to him you're a phenomenon that is a mystery to him. And rather than unlocking that mystery, he chooses to accept that there are some things that are beyond his understanding. And would rather admire it from afar, than simply be confused by the things you could do and the stories you create." The good doctor has a point. But it was only later on in your last few hours that you could finally admit it to yourself.

"It still wouldn't have hurt to ask me though." He chuckled as he places a thermometer in your mouth.

"I may not be him, but I would like to apologize on behalf of ignorant men everywhere."

You let tears of happiness fall as you write your last note to the good doctor. Even if you wouldn't be associated with this story, even if you were unnamed from his biography, his companionship in this lifetime was worth so much more than the fame that you sensed would arrive soon after.

Dear Dr. Doyle.

Thank you for your companionship

I hope to be remembered not as a sick woman who had a short tragic life. I don't want to be remembered as someone who was unimportant. But a woman who just loved talking about stories and sharing them with you. I want to be remembered as the character you will someday write within the stories you create. I hope that I was an equal in the stories we share.

Once you eliminate all other possibilities, then what remains is the truth. No matter how improbable.

Thank you so much

Signed

Irene Adler, Opera singer, probable spy.

The woman

You hear someone call your name as you return back to the present. The good doctor has kept his promise. You smile briefly as you spot a bookstore along the way promoting that it had copies of the Sherlock Holmes novels. The good doctor may not know who you are in this lifetime but you never forgot him. You helped him in refining the skill of analysis and deduction.

Now it was time to use them in this rescue mission.

As you step down from the carriage, you spot Jessamy in your periphery.

'Jessamy you are a bit obvious, I could still spot you.'

'Oh sorry ma'am.' You give a discreet look at where she was previously. You could no longer visually see her, but based on your bond she's backed up into the shadows and had remained much more still.

Good, it's still too early for her to attempt to go inside. The sun has just gone down, and night was still coming but not yet here. Your group of the new generation's aristocrats were able to get a privileged invitation and were able to arrive early, ensuring that you would be able to get in.

You play the flirt, the wide-eyed naivete who has never been to a mystical place. You were sheltered, you explained. At most the wonders that you've seen were only what was discussed in the public journals. This predictably had them eating out of your hand.

To be safe you need to check if your powers interfered with the wards and other potential magic that was in this place. You gently use a small amount of it on your companions. That way if it was obvious, you could say that it was the Burgess Manor that was doing it and not you. Also by using it first on your own companions, there's less of a chance that any guards would be alarmed at the potential of having a being with supernatural powers within their midst.

You make sure to look away as you gently tap the minds of your companions. At the same time you use your senses to check if there's any detection by the occultists.

No reaction so far.

That looks promising.

There were also no signs from your companions that they felt you in their minds, simply reaching out to their conscious thoughts.

Good. If you can reap their energy amidst being in the party, then you just might be able to communicate with Morpheus. You need to be gentle enough that their brains would mistake it as a subconscious thought. But you need much more people before attempting to do it to communicate.

You also need to be sure that among the occultists they didn't have magic barriers, or if they did, such barriers wouldn't react to what you were doing. In theory it shouldn't be the case. With enough people, you just need even just one or two surface level thoughts from them. You weren't trying to attack their minds, just travel through them and get a little bit of energy along the way.

And if you can help it, you would stay away from the mind of Roderick Burgess. It is too risky and if he began to suspect any supernatural mental presence, it would undermine all that you and Jessamy have done so far.

From the periphery of the window, the night was finally beginning. You send a message to Jessamy that in awhile she should infiltrate the manor. She will be the judge of when that is. She sends back a thought that she had heard the message.

More people enter the manor for the party. More minds to tap into. If the place were overflowing with outside people, then there is a high chance that you don't need to tap into the minds of the occultists.

Speaking of the occultists, there were definitely a few who were on guard duty. About 12 to be exact based on where their minds were. 10 were guarding the prison proper where Morpheus was located. Morpheus, who was resting but very much conscious, was in the center based on the positions. You feel some of them think rather loudly how miserable they were that they were going to miss the party. 2 of the occultists were guarding the entrance to the prison. Probably in case of a rogue partygoer accidentally wanders into their midst.

Once the manor was filled with plenty of visitors, and the gates were closed to anyone who wasn't able to go in, that was the time you began to do your job. Fortunately for you, there was lively music playing, delicious food served in a buffet style that was normally reserved for luncheons. All things that could make people a lot more energetic and would allow you to have less effort.

There was also unsurprisingly alcohol which for your purposes was a double-edged sword. On one hand, if enough people was intoxicated then they wouldn't really notice your presence in their minds. On the other hand, alcohol being a depressant meant that their conscious thoughts would have less energy and would require more effort from you. The more effort you exert, the higher the chances that you would get caught by one of the occultists, if not by Burgess himself.

If nothing else happens tonight, the least you could do was suggest the presence of some stimulants to make the next party even livelier.

Jessamy was able to infiltrate the premises through an unused chimney. How she was able to travel down the chimney, you have no idea.

'Remember be discreet' you send to her. It was still too early to do anything to help Morpheus that wasn't planned.

'I will ma'am' a part of you wonders if she's getting annoyed at you being cautious or maybe it was your almost constant reminding.

Probably both.

You engage in the festivities, or rather you did the average amount of activities that would throw anyone suspicious of you off. You drank enough alcohol to be tipsy, but not inebriated. You drank lots of water and had eaten a lot of the food offered. Before leaving you also made sure to have taken a heavy meal just in case. You danced enough dances to at least 5 different songs. The men were rather astounded by your stamina on the dance floor. You teased them enough to suggest something more, but your words alone couldn't implicate you in anything scandalous.

Or at least nothing that was scandalous beyond the norm for a rebellious aristocratic woman.

No one questioned why you needed to rest and take a breath in a less crowded area, but was still a part of the party area of the manor. Some men followed you, but after acting too tired to do anything beyond flirting, they left you. In order to get yourself to be alone, you pretended to be drowsy and sleepy.

The irony of that doesn't escape you. You were more awake than ever. The energy from the conscious minds that were nearby was almost like a double espresso shot that made you want to move around.

You take a breath, gently tapped the the minds of the party goers. For tonight you decide to avoid using any of the minds of the occultists. The information you and Jessamy had were still lacking, and when there were any doubts as to what you should do, you would pick caution. Fortunately, the night was still young and not too many people were drunk yet. It didn't take you much effort to gather energy from their conscious thoughts and to have your message travel to Morpheus.

Jessamy had just arrived too in the prison proper. Her movements slower and more stealthier than what you've felt from her before.

'Jessamy, do you think you could still talk to Morpheus?'

'I thought that was your job?'

'Try talking with him first, then I'll try it with mine. Either way I'll still feel it.' Through Jessamy's eyes you see that Morpheus was very much awake despite him lying down. His eyes were glaring at his guards.

'Lord Morpheus, its Jessamy. If you can hear me sit down.' You await.

He remains where he is, glaring at the guards.

'Ma'am I'm going to try moving closer.'

'How close are you planning?'

'I'll try going in the area.'

'No'

'But ma'am'

'Safety first, there are too many guards around him. I haven't tapped into their minds yet but their thoughts are loudly thinking about the party and how stuck they feel.' Thinking quickly you suddenly get an idea.

'Jessamy, more or less how far are you from Morpheus?'

'I don't know, about one tree?' her brain gives you a reference to what tree she's referring to.

So about a couple of meters and a half more or less.

'Stay where you are. I'll try to use you as a conduit to talk to Morpheus.' You feel her settle down and blend in more with the darkness as you gather the energy of the conscious minds of the party.

'Morpheus, its me. If you can hear me, sit down.' You then gently send the message travelling through the conscious minds of the party goers and when it arrives in Jessamy's mind, you add power to project it on to him.

Now you await through Jessamy's eyes.

It didn't seem like he heard you.

Time to try a different tactic.

You were about to pull out of Jessamy's mind when through her eyes, you see Morpheus look at Jessamy's way. His eyes no longer glaring. But it's an expression that you couldn't read.

'You're here?' Jessamy was about to fly with joy when you sternly reminded her through your own bond to be still.

'With Jessamy, I'm speaking with you through her and the other party goers.'

'LORD MORPHEUS I'M SO GLAD WE CAN TALK!' You can feel him send her feelings of affection in reassurance.

'How are you? Jessamy please be still, the party is starting to wind down and people are starting to get drunk. I won't be able to use their consciousness much longer without possibly getting caught.'

'Sorry Ma'am.'

'Suffering. That's all I can say. I've been suffering.'

'We'll try to get you out of there but you'll have to be patient.'

'Have you tried telling Lucienne?'

'We've tried but it seems there's a barrier preventing Jessamy from going back to the realm proper and preventing me from calling for Lucienne.'

'The spell that's keeping me contained here must have had an effect on you, through your bond with Jessamy. I couldn't go to the dreaming when I tried resting.'

'That would explain some things.' You start to feel less energized. People are now falling asleep, getting drunk, or both.

'Morpheus, Jessamy and I need to go now, I'm starting to lose-'

'I understand.' You feel him briefly pause before continuing.

'Be careful you two.'

'We will Lord Morpheus.'

'Thank you, Morpheus.' and with that you pull out of Jessamy's mind and she slowly flies out of the prison proper. For your part you slowly open your eyes. It was just in time too. Not too far, you sense a couple go into a private spot for carnal activities.

You normally wouldn't mind, but right now you had to analyze what information you now had. And you can't do that within this space.

But you can't quite leave just yet. That would be too suspicious.

'Jessamy, go ahead without me. I can't leave the party yet.'

'Will you be alright Ma'am?'

'Yes, go to my bedroom and record what we've learned tonight.' You can sense her confused.

'I'm a raven ma'am. I don't know how to write.' You roll your eyes internally. It turns out she wasn't observant to how you recorded details.

'Do you remember the diary I would keep?'

'Yes'

'It's an enchanted object. Simply open a blank page and step on it. It will record what you want to say. It will be done recording your thoughts when you see your name appear at the bottom of the text.'

'Oh' With that she flies away from the Burgess Manor grounds and you proceed to see if there's still any alcoholic beverages left to be consumed. You weren't actually going to drink all of it, but you drank enough to make people think you were drunk.

No one needed to know that you threw plenty of alcohol to either the bushes, the chamber pots, or even to the couch that you were sitting on just to be convincing.

You and Jessamy meet inside your bedroom this time. You're not sure if you were followed, even though you took precautions to pretend to be drunk and inebriated that the hosts had to call a carriage to bring you home.

"Okay, so the glass is not there to prevent psychic attacks."

"Perhaps Ma'am, its to prevent Lord Morpheus from being able to touch the ground and prevent him from using any sand."

"Good point. But what I am confused by is how the ritual circle is protecting everyone else from him."

"Maybe it's just restraining him. After all how else are they able to put him in a glass sphere otherwise?" There's something else that you just couldn't put your hands on. You sigh before turning towards Jessamy.

"I don't know why, but it feels like we are missing something."

"That's why it's an intelligence mission right? To learn more. But oh ma'am this is wonderful, see there is hope that we could rescue him."

A part of you hopes that you would live up to such expectation.

The next intelligence operation is seeing what was the minimum radius required for the two of you to be able to communicate with Morpheus. You're still not willing to risk a surprise counter attack among the occultists. Which is why you're prioritizing this experiment over actually going inside the property again. You didn't like the energy that permeated there. And if either you or Jessamy could avoid going to the Burgess Manor unnecessarily, the better.

Not too far from the Manor was an inn that was large enough to have a lot of people. The more conscious people the better. Around the inn were also various restaurants that catered to the guests of the inn. Both restaurants catered to very different tastes. One, in your honest opinion, was a bastardization of Indian Cuisine. It wasn't spicy enough to bring you memories from when you were living there. But then again, those were the times when you were born male. The second restaurant, was what you would call English cuisine with French techniques. Not too bad, and probably more in line with the general tastes.

It was definitely better than the obvious bastardization of the other.

Now this lead to another conundrum.

While you were from the aristocratic class and have established yourself as part of the rebellious new generation. That didn't mean you could just ignore all mores.

You will need to find a husband.

You expected this since that was one of the conditions that granted you travel to London in the first place. You weren't new to marriage of conveniences. But a part of you wished that you could be able to rescue Morpheus, go back to Quebec, and die an old lady writer who due to her wealth and status wasn't pressured to be married.

But based on the many surprises that you sensed in the Burgess Manor even among the relative safety of a party, to be able to rescue him, would take a longer time than expected.

"You can't just do that Ma'am."

"Softer Jessamy, we don't know who could be listening." You give her a pointed look as you two were at your desk with your enchanted diary.

"But ma'am, well what if you hurt his feelings?"

"Jessamy aristocrats are used to marriage of conveniences. It's first and foremost a contract with the transfer of property. Don't worry I just need to find the right one who would let me do as I please." Jessamy sits down and looks at you with a concerned expression on her face.

"Ma'am, I think you and I both know who I mean." You take a breath. You had suspected for awhile that Jessamy might have mistaken your actions of rescuing Morpheus as signs of romantic affection. Despite your own feelings, you were pretty certain that they were unrequited.

"Jessamy, whatever you are thinking, stop it now. It's never been like that between Morpheus and I." You hate to do this, but this thinking must be nipped in the bud before proceeding. This was a delicate mission as it is. Especially when you were trying your best to keep the two of you alive.

"But he calls you 'Beautiful Anomaly', doesn't that show that he cares for you?"

"Jessamy ... I can't speak on behalf of Morpheus. I may be the creator of conscious thought but even I don't know what he thinks of me. Beings can care about other beings without being in love with them. And based on my mistakes from some of my past lifetimes, its safer to not assume things." If ravens could cry, Jessamy may have begun right there and then.

"You're his raven, he cares about you too Jessamy."

"But it feels different with you. There's a certain tone he uses whenever he talks about you. Almost like reverence mixed with affection." She looks up at you with a distraught expression.

"Surely that has to mean something. You also created emotion ma'am, surely that shows he has feelings for you."

Oh dear.

You really don't want to hurt her feelings.

But the burden was on you as someone who understood the nuances and follies of emotions.

All you can do now is to gently remove that illusion from her mind.

"Jessamy, feelings and emotions can come and go. Yes sometimes they may last longer than most, but its part of living life to feel." You take a breath because you know this would break her.

"But just because there are feelings of affection doesn't mean that there are also feelings of romantic love."

"But-but how can that be? Surely there must be -" she was at a loss for words.

You continue on.

"Jessamy, my most successful marriages throughout my entire existence had one thing in common. Love was a choice, not just a feeling." Despite her thoughts being upset at what you have to say, you could tell that she was still listening.

"There comes a time in a relationship wherein your attraction for each other fades, and you are blatantly reminded of how imperfect beings you both are. The difference lies in whether you choose to work together to resolve any issues you both have, or if you want to leave...if you can leave that is." You lower yourself down to her eye level.

"But Jessamy, that choice is not made alone. To do so would remove the other's freedom to choose. And that eventually becomes resentment and hate. While there are rules and lines that I may cross sometimes, the agency of any being - any being's freedom to choose is one that I won't cross."

"Including Lord Morpheus?"

"Especially him. Especially now that he now has a taste of what's it like to lose that freedom." You can sense her contemplating something.

"But ma'am, why did you choose to help me rescue him if you didn't love him?" There was hope in her thoughts. Hope that maybe my feelings alone could change eons of how he has treated me.

You sadly know the contrary.

"My feelings for him have changed Jessamy. A part of me will still have feelings for him. But those are nothing except my own burden to deal with." You pause for a bit to check if she is still listening to you. She was but it was in despair.

"I chose to help you, because I want to show him that I'm not mad at him anymore. Whether he actually apologizes to me or not, that is something beyond my control. But no one should be robbed of their freedom and be made to suffer like he is suffering right now." You sit up before you open your palms and wait for her to hop in. With gentleness you bring her up to your own eyes.

"Are we clear?"

"...clear" Jessamy says reluctantly.

It's okay.

You just hope that now that you've set things straight, she will not take it against you for marrying someone else. She doesn't have to like whomever becomes your husband, but it is the security you two need to stay in England.

Without a spouse you can't do your radius experiment; instead you go to the next party being held in the manor. Same arrangement, only this time, there were stimulants available to the party guests. And because there were other people who lead the liveliness of the party, you could get away with the bare minimum of socializing.

You still danced your heart away though. This time with multiple male partners who you knew were bachelors.

Good exposure but you felt that none of them were a suitable spouse to your needs. These were young men that had high libidos and loved being in control. None of them would do no matter how excellent dancers and conversationalists they are.

You observe the occultists that were present. To someone who wasn't looking, it seemed they were aloof and preferred to watch from the sidelines.

But that's not what you see.

You see their eyes hold a hunger and excitement that they reigned in. You could even feel some of them look at you with lust as you looked curiously at them.

They weren't being aloof. They were waiting for their targets to be exhausted before they joined in and claimed them as prey.

Perhaps you could use this as an advantage.

Not to marry one of them, but to check if they have magical barriers also in their minds that you should be aware of.

'Be careful ma'am' You can hear the disapproval Jessamy has with that idea. She may not like that you were expressing some amount of interest in other people, but in this case it was really necessary.

Besides, you don't have to actually do anything.

You manage to pair off with one of the occultists. And you manage to convinced him that you two should be alone.

In a place that was near the entrance of the prison cells.

Once you two were alone, you used your powers to manipulate his conscious thoughts. In his mind, the two of you were engaging in carnal pleasure and that he was the best lover you've ever had.

How predictable.

What was actually happening was that you were standing up while he was writhing by himself on the floor. While his conscious mind was busy masturbating his body, you were scanning his brain for any magical surprises and barriers that may interfere with your work.

The only thing that existed in his brain was a magical barrier for the subconscious. There was also the normal anti-brainwashing protection measures that was necessarily part of the subconscious magical barrier, but nothing so far concerning conscious thoughts.

Speaking of conscious thoughts, he was also a high ranking member. Not the very top, but close to there.

This was promising. But inconclusive as to what possible mental surprises those superior to him may have.

Once you've finally allowed him to have his release that was strong enough to bring him to sleep, you then proceed to be in a crowded place. There was an act going on and clearly some of the party goers decided to put on an impromptu show. You hide yourself in the shadows pretending to be drunk and passed out. When you weren't bothered for awhile, you then reached out to Jessamy. You wanted to test if you could still hear him as clearly if you were amidst very stimulated and very conscious minds. You may be farther from him than last time, but you were closer to your source of power. You felt Jessamy there. She has been waiting awhile but you also sensed that she and Morpheus had been talking while waiting for you.

'Can you still hear me through Jessamy?'

'Yes I can. Jessamy has been telling me what you two have learned so far.'

'I want to try something, if it is fine with you. I would like to try to contact you directly from where I am.'

'You're not in the same place as last time?'

'No, I'm further away. But I'm closer to the party, the source of my power to talk with you.'

'Oh I don't mind being a conduit ma'am.'

'Jessamy we need to test this so that I can prioritize your safety.'

'She's right Jessamy. The people here have seen you flying nearby a couple of times. I've not given them any indication that we know each other, but they are starting to suspect you.' With reluctance you feel Jessamy pull away.

You take a breath and redirect your energy. This time instead of sending your thoughts to Jessamy, you send it to Morpheus.

'If you can hear me, tell Jessamy without responding to this directly.' Not long after, you feel Jessamy make confirmation that you've made contact with Morpheus.

'Am I as clear to you as I was to Jessamy?'

'You are actually clearer to me now than when you were using Jessamy as a conduit.'

'She's been very excited at the possibility that you might be getting out right away. No matter how many times I've told her that if we are doing this safely, it will be far longer than what she's been expecting.'

'And you? Given the last time we've spoke...are you also excited when I will be free?' Of all the questions he had to ask now, it had to be that one.

'Of course, no one deserves to be imprisoned and to have their freedom deprived from them. You know my stance in that.' You can feel an uncertainty in his conscious thoughts.

'Do you still hate me?'

'No. No, I don't hate you anymore.' You could feel that his mood had lightened.

'But we can discuss that once you have been freed. Now is not the time.'

'Then how are you able to talk with me longer than last time?'

'I'm the one who suggested the stimulants in the party. The more awake and stimulated they are, the less effort I need to do.' You can feel his approval of your choices so far.

'What do Jessamy and I need to do to set you free?'

'Either find a way to break the sphere and the ritual circle containing me, or make someone fall asleep in my presence. Once they enter the dreaming, I can take over from there.' You ponder a bit before you feel your power draining.

'I have a question about that but it will have to wait. The party is starting to sleep.'

'Of course, and thank you for what you're doing.' You begin to shake your head "awake" but not before sending one last message to him.

'Don't thank me yet. It might be awhile.'

With this new information, progress seemed to be made. You were guarded in your hope that maybe you could free him.

Now all you need to do is find a husband who doesn't care that you're using him just to stay in England.

It was awhile before that happened. But thankfully you've managed to find one who meets your needs. He wasn't interested in women, and neither did he want to have any children to care for. He had already settled this with his family, and the compromise was that he should at the very least get married. You were concerned at first. You were more than aware of the antiquated succession laws that aristocratic families tend to cling to. But he assured you that there were enough legitimate and illegitimate children of the next generation that could deal with it. He made a clause in his will that whomever meets some arbitrary test that proves of the worthiness of the heir, must allow you to keep whatever rooms or properties that you have been given as wedding gifts.

As long as he could be with his male lover, he was more than happy to cover up for your behavior.

A part of you felt that the fates may be favoring you now, because of a price that you'll be paying later.

How little you knew that you were actually right.

Nevertheless, you managed to proceed to stay at an inn. It was a crowded time, so you were able to easily find his mind.

'About someone needing to be asleep within your presence-does it have to be human?' He contemplates first, before replying.

'No, as long as that being is capable of dreaming, then it would suffice.' An idea was beginning to formulate in your mind.

'What if Jessamy managed to fall asleep-'

'Jessamy is a subject of the dreaming-it has to be a being that is from the waking world.' Damn it. But then a thought came to you.

'This is going to sound crazy but what if I used Jessamy as a conduit and I fell asleep. Can you access the dreaming then?' He's thinking. But you felt the doubt before he told you.

'That may require a lot of energy on your part. Your powers are based on conscious thoughts. You might lose the connection to Jessamy as you fall asleep.'

'Even with the bond I've made with her? Can you try to reach out to our bond through your own bond with her?'

'Hmm, we can experiment with it first. Send Jessamy within the Manor grounds during the daytime and I'll try to reach out.' You had a bad feeling about this.

'Morpheus that's too dangerous. You said it yourself, Jessamy is probably known as your raven to your captors now. The more she's there without a plan, the more dangerous it is to her safety.'

'We'll have you. With you nearby you can keep her safe.' You ignore the part of yourself that jumped up when he said "We". You sense Jessamy arrive in the window sill. She taps into both bonds she has with you and Morpheus, thus effectively joining the mental conversation.

'I have a suggestion Lord Morpheus, what if the two of you formed your own bond? That way when she falls asleep, you can access the dreaming through her.' Oh dear, Jessamy clearly did not know what that entailed. The only two Endless who had this bond was their parents. And they never hesitated to emphasize that it is a decision that is not to be made lightly.

'Jessamy, a bond between the two of us would be something more deeper and permanent. It won't be limited to the psychic bond we share or that you share with her.'

'Isn't there a way to make it temporary? And what if the bond is limited to this lifetime?'

'I could ask the fates about it. But I'm not sure what offerings they will want from me-besides if all else fails, I'll just sneak in there, pretend to be drunk and fall asleep on front of you.' You feel him shake his head. And to your surprise you feel some anxiety from him.

'Too risky, I would not have you risk your life for me like that.'

'Then I'll use my powers to make myself invisible in their minds.'

'Until you fall asleep, and by then you would just get yourself killed on front of me.' More anxiety coming from him, this time paired with nervousness. Admittedly today hasn't been the most productive of days. You were supposed to be able to have a plan, but it seems you were stuck.

'Ma'am what if you used your powers to put them to sleep? Like how you gave that occultist guard a-'

'Jessamy, I think all of the other occultists would be very suspicious about all of their guards suddenly having sexual fantasies and passing out from their release.'

'But wouldn't that put them to sleep and Lord Morpheus could enter the dreaming.'

'No, she has a point. Not only would it bring harm to her, but the risk is too high even if the end result would be me escaping. The other guards would be on high alert and would hunt her down.'

'Besides I was lucky that one time. Not all men sleep upon release.' You were getting frustrated, you were getting nowhere with this.

'Can't you use your powers to make them drowsy ma'am?'

'I could, but it's not going to take them to the dreaming. Their mind has a magical barrier guarding their subconscious thoughts. For people to get into the dreaming, those should be unlocked. At most its going to be a very light almost laughably shallow nap.'

'I wouldn't say it is laughable.'

'Don't mock me right now Morpheus.' You say exasperated before taking a breath.

'Then it's back to basics. Study their habits, guard patterns, and everything and anything relevant to breaking you out.' You sigh sadly. If only there was some way to subtly make the guards fall asleep. But to do that you'll have to unlock the magical barriers in their minds. Too much energy. You'll need a party for that. You feel Jessamy slip away from your mental conversation.

'Get some rest' but it seems he still wants to talk.

'How can I when it feels I'm doing nothing?'

'You are doing more than I've ever expected for you to do. How can you not see that?' Is he being serious right now?

'Well for one thing, you're still imprisoned. And I just realized that it has been 4 years now and we're still not getting anywhere. And I don't want to send Jessamy there during the daytime because they will for sure hunt her down.' You take a breath. You calm yourself down before continuing.

'What do you have against me just sneaking down there and sleeping within your presence? It seems pretty straight forward if you ask me.'

'Have you not been listening to me earlier?' You can hear he was upset and hints of the anxiety and nervousness creep back in.

'You'll die.'

'I'll be dying anyway. It's part of my job.'

'Not if I can help it.'

'What's the difference in me dying later and me dying to set you free?' No answer, its been awhile since you have no response from him.

'You need rest. You need to regain your energy.' You feel him sigh but before you leave he still has something to say.

'I can't stop you if you really want to proceed with your plan. But it would cause me great pain to see you die on front of me.' You feel him leave, and once again you were all alone in your thoughts.

After a night's rest, it turns out to your frustration Jessamy was more stubborn than you realized.

"You've been going there in the daytime!?" You shriek as you see her land on the window sill clearly coming from the direction of the Burgess Manor.

"I've been careful, and just observing." You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose trying to keep yourself calm.

"How was I not aware of this despite our bond?"

"Well ma'am you're not a morning person in this lifetime. So I thought since I don't want to disturb your deep sleep, and it was during the early part of the morning wherein you really wouldn't wake up, I decided to be more proactive in our mission." Her voice shrinks, she knows you're very upset.

"How long has this been going on?"

"...Awhile" About 3 months based on her thoughts.

"Does Morpheus know?"

"I've just been observing the habits of the residents there that's all. I haven't tried making contact with Lord Morpheus yet." You're not sure whether this was good news or bad news.

You look at her with a disapproving look.

"Jessamy, I am just as frustrated as you are that we still haven't freed him yet. But I promised him I would also keep you safe. And I can't do that unless you tell me what you've been doing."

"I know, I'm sorry" You don't have to tap into her thoughts or your bond to know how remorseful she is. You take a breath, then you open your enchanted diary.

"Have you at least been recording what you've learnt?"

"...no"

"Okay, I'm upset yes. But I would not have you risking your life in vain."

"Yes ma'am." She then hops onto the blank page of the diary.

"It's the boy ma'am, Alex Burgess. He's not seen by his father. Roderick Burgess neglects him all in his quest to bring his first son back. He could be a potential ally if given the chance." Something about this makes you uneasy. You were all too aware of sons under pressure to gain the approval of their fathers.

This didn't sit well with you.

But then again, who were you to dictate what choices anyone could make.

Despite all your efforts to be careful, if you couldn't stop Jessamy from going there in the day time, the least you could do is to accompany her and cover her tracks. Morpheus too was concerned, but similar to you he was in no position to stop her.

Soon, you almost drained your energy putting concealment illusions on her. She didn't also always tell you whenever she was going to spy on Burgess. Much like before she had a tendency to take advantage of when you were in a deep sleep. And as predicted by you, she was eventually spotted and made a target by Burgess.

The first time this happened, you couldn't help but feel like a failure.

'There's nothing to apologize for. You've learned by now that no matter what you'll tell her if she thinks it will help you, she will do so no matter what.'

'Still, you've made me responsible for her. It's one thing for me to die, I know I'll be reborn again sometime in the future. But if she -'

'Don't think about that. Your thoughts have more power than you've realized.' You feel like he wanted to say more, but he held back for some reason you couldn't quite grasp.

'You need to rest. Jessamy knows the risks. We've both told her and she's not stopping anytime soon. You've nearly drained yourself giving her as much concealment as you could.'

'Out of curiosity, how have you not punished her whenever she defies you?'

'I've sternly warned her before, and after that she at least consults me first before doing anything.' And before you know it you felt yourself going into sleep.

Soon before you realized it, it has been ten years since his imprisonment. Your husband has paid the inn owners a substantial amount of money to allow you to keep the room that was more of your home than the bedroom in your husband's mansion. The tests of Morpheus reaching out to the bond you shared with Jessamy gave all three of you a glimmer of hope that perhaps Jessamy could be a conduit to you falling asleep and Morpheus could enter the dreaming through your bond with Jessamy.

The plan was that you would conceal Jessamy as she infiltrated and caused a distraction. Once she reached Morpheus, she would fly on top giving her safety from the ground should she have any followers. Morpheus would reach through his bond with Jessamy into your bond with her as you fell asleep from your bed in the Inn. He would then be in the dreaming and could escape.

You couldn't help but feel something was about to go wrong.

Sometimes you really wished that you were wrong sometimes.

It was because of this feeling that some nights before the planned escape mission, you requested the three of you have one last mental chat.

'I don't like this feeling, but I have a feeling something is going to go wrong. I can't figure out what it is. And I really wish my feelings were wrong this one time.' You look worriedly at Jessamy. For all the heartache and disagreements you two have had, you really don't want anything to happen to her.

'Ma'am we've planned it out carefully, and you even nearly died concealing me.'

'Jessamy, this isn't going to be like our previous encounters.'

'You're right ma'am, Lord Morpheus will finally be free.'

'Jessamy' You can tell that his feelings were similar to yours. But you also felt hope mixed with desperation from him.

'Lord Morpheus, what's life without a little risk? I know both of you are concerned. And sometimes I am impulsive and don't tell either of you what I've been doing, but if anything happens...just know that I'm glad to have been close with both of you.'

'Jessamy' You feel yourself begin to tear up.

'I know' She gives you a sad smile. So she knows too that something might happen to her specifically.

'I know we haven't been friends for a long time. But is it strange that I sometimes like to think of you as a mother. Ever since we met in Quebec you've always been looking out for me and risking your life for me. I don't know why it feels so different when other people have also been caring for me that way. With you ma'am it just feels different. Is this what it feels like having a mother?' You couldn't respond. You didn't realize that you were too busy crying as you look into her eyes for possibly the last time.

'If you had to pick a mother, she would be one of the best ones.'

Then came the day of the attempted rescue.

So far everything had been going to plan, Jessamy was able to set a fire to distract the guards, and she's now on her way to Morpheus.

Maybe we could make it.

You began to feel Morpheus reaching out from his bond to your bond with Jessamy.

'You're here.'

'I'm here'

He was in your bond, you could feel it. You just needed to fall asleep now and he would be in the dreaming. But then-

"Hello there"

And you felt a knife stabbed from your back. The first of many stab wounds.

No

NO

You struggle to fight back by using your legs, but he has you restrained. And you know you can't lose your mental concentration now.

'Corinthian' You can feel his anger and pain as you try to hold on as long as you can.

No

Not now

For Jessamy

You need to remain alive for Jessamy.

You can die afterwards when she's escaped.

As long as you're alive she remains concealed.

She remains safe.

You need to endure the pain.

Endure till the very end.

Endure until they are both free.

'Lord Morpheus, she's starting to fade away.'

'Jessamy get out of here. She's dying, her powers concealing you will die with her.'

'No, Lord Morpheus we're so close. I'll just break the glass-" You begin to lose consciousness from the blood loss. You couldn't follow what happened afterwards.

But all you can remember was taking your last breath as you felt a bullet wound shot to your back.

AN: ...So how are you 😅 Trust me when I say I cried a couple of parts while writing this.

A few notes that I would like to mention:

1.) Fem Reader aka Life, cannot detect subconscious thoughts. That's not her domain. That's why she can't detect the thoughts of the Corinthian, because the Corinthian is a nightmare made out of subconscious thoughts (at least that's my headcanon);

2.) Jessamy before she established her bond with Life was the one who actively projected her thoughts to Life, that's why Life can "translate" her thoughts. After they established a bond this no longer was an issue;

3.) A friend sorta spoiled me on the Midsummer Night's Dream arc (not the specific details, but just why overall why it was the play Dream gave to Shakespeare), so I thought as an interesting juxtaposition is what if Life is responsible for Sherlock Holmes. The reason why I thought this was because it is so different from what Dream gives Shakespeare. That's not to say that there's no logic in Dreams, but Sherlock Holmes while it is a fantasy is also very grounded in knowing what is the reality is and how there's a logical pattern that becomes so astounding because its so insightful and yet so honest (or at least that's how I felt). And also because I'm a Moriarty the Patriot fan (which will inevitably play out in the 21st Century scenes).

Also yes, Twisted hearts was playing on a loop while I was writing this.

Please don't send me death threats 🙏I'm not yet a lawyer.

It does get better after this, but this was necessary.

#Beautiful anomaly #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman (2022) #dream x fem!reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #morpheus x fem!reader #Morpheus x you #Morpheus x y/n #Morpheus x reader #Dream x reader

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Summer Knight Part 3

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

Dividers by cafekitsune

Chapter 4

Cain shadowed Hob and Morpheus for the first week of his new assignment, helping him learn the Prince’s routine and what he was expected to do while the Prince was attending to affairs of the realm. So far, the worst had been the daily council meetings: Hob was to stand behind Morpheus’ chair at his right shoulder, and be alert for threats. Easy enough, were it not for the side effect of having to listen to members of the council pompously drone on and on about matters of state. 

Morpheus had warned him how tedious these meetings were, that they would thoroughly test just how well Hob could hold his tongue. 

He hadn’t been joking. 

Hob stayed by his side through council sessions, individual meetings with advisors, errands about the city to the treasury and city guard, every duty the Prince was responsible for while attending court. He couldn’t help but marvel a little- the Prince never stopped going. True, his wasn’t the manual labor of building and manufacturing, but it was no less intense. The Prince was exhausted when they returned to his chambers every night, sometimes too tired for even a few words of conversation before turning in. 

As the Prince’s guard, Hob was privy to every aspect of the Prince’s day, and he saw and heard more than what occurred to most. Beneath the Prince’s icy exterior, he saw a man who cared deeply about not only his own shire of Fiddler’s Green, but about the Dreaming as a whole. He saw a young man burdened by responsibility, and by the knowledge that he would take the Dream Throne some day. He saw a man consumed by duty, who only ever wanted to do right by his land and his people. It made his heart ache to see him bear such a burden alone.

He also saw how none of it was enough to appease the prickly King, nor stir the Queen from her reluctant passivity. 

In addition to guard duty, Cain had requested that Hob at least try to give Morpheus some basic combat training. Oh yes, Morpheus had had all the lessons and education in warfare a young prince was expected to have, but to say he took to it like a fish to climbing trees would be an understatement. But, maybe now that he was older, he might have more of an interest. 

So it was that, a month into his duties, Hob and Morpheus found themselves at the hidden lake where they had first met, armed with training swords, waterskins, and a picnic lunch of bread, fruit, cheese, and dried meats. Their horses were tethered to a stout tree- Jessamy had decided her approach to Hob’s dapple gray gelding (he had named him Gregory) was to pretend he didn’t exist, no matter how much Gregory tried to befriend the piebald mare. 

Both were attired simply in a shirt, breeches, and their riding boots. Hob looked relaxed, twirling his sword with a practiced ease that made the Prince’s hands clammy with sweat. “Must we do this?” Morpheus groused, mimicking Hob’s ready stance. He wasn’t a stranger to swordplay, it had just never appealed to him. He preferred to settle matters diplomatically- one could just as easily draw blood with words as with blows. 

“I said I’d teach you,” Hob replied with an easy smile. “I’d like to be able to at least tell Sir Cain I tried so I don’t get thrown out on my arse after only a month.” 

Even with his smile, Hob’s eyes were fixed on Morpheus with singular, deadly focus. The Prince felt his blood go hot and cold all at once- was this what the bandits felt before Hob took them down? Like there was no way they could win, and yet that wasn’t a bad thing? 

“We’ll take it slow,” Hob assured as they started circling each other. Morpheus’ steps were slightly unsure, tentative and out of practice, whereas Hob moved with the assured grace of a cat sneaking up on its prey. 

With a nod, Hob gave Morpheus permission to make the first attack. The Prince pursed his lips into a thin line, breathed through his nose, bounced twice, and lunged forward, his cut aimed at Hob’s side. 

The esquire parried it with ease and near flawless technique. He beckoned for Morpheus to keep coming when the Prince showed signs of backing off. The Prince hesitated- he knew he was no good at swordplay, it just wasn’t him. He was light and swift, more suited to hunting and scholarly pursuits.

“Try again,” Hob encouraged. “Promise you won’t hurt me.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

Was that a challenge? If there was one thing the Prince and his temper couldn’t resist, it was a challenge. His pride loved proving people wrong and turning expectations of him on their heads.

The Prince’s lips curled into a slight snarl as he attacked again. Hob almost laughed- who knew the regal and marble-cold Prince Morpheus had such fire in him? 

He wanted to see it again. 

He parried the Prince’s blow, and the one after that. Morpheus hesitated again, and Hob decided it was a perfect time to see what the Prince’s defense was like, how quickly he could move from attacking to defending. He flicked the Prince’s blade away with the tip of his own and lunged in. 

Rather than bring his blade up to defend, Morpheus took two long, graceful steps to the side, twirling out of range. Hob was definitely not expecting that, to be left mid-air and wide open for a counterattack. The esquire laughed as he took his ready stance again.

“You mock me?” the Prince spat, surprised at the anger festering into hurt.

“No, never! I’m surprised- dodging like that isn’t at all what I expected. Again.” He beckoned the Prince to attack again.

They traded a few more blows- every time Hob attacked, Morpheus evaded rather than defend before returning with an attack of his own. Soon, Hob was certain in his observation that Morpheus preferred to dodge to the right. A knowing smirk touched his face- his next attack would test that theory. 

Sure enough, Morpheus dodged gracefully to the right, and Hob was ready and waiting for him. Hob continued his forward momentum, taking a lunging step into Morpheus’ space and holding a fist to his side, the barely there touch prompting the Prince to stop dead in his tracks.

“If I had a dagger you’d be dead.” Hob’s voice was serious, but not patronizing. There was something warm and hard and unreadable in his eyes. “You’re quick, that’s good. But if you evade everything the same way, sooner or later whoever you’re fighting will figure that out and turn it against you just like I did.” 

The Prince vented his ire with a huff and pushed Hob back. He stalked a few steps away, aggravation simmering in his gut. Why did he want to be good at this? His ineptitude for swordplay had never bothered him before, he could and did take pride in his other skills. So why was it bothering him how easily Hob was besting him? 

His face set in a snarl, Morpheus took his stance. “Again.” 

Hob quirked a brow and his gut clenched. If looks could kill, he’d be down on his knees at least. He had wanted to see that fire again, and now here it was, simmering and carefully controlled. He settled into his stance. This would be their last bout before they took a break for lunch, and it most likely wouldn’t end well for Morpheus. He was too aggravated, too frustrated to think clearly about what he needed to do. Hob debated whether it would be wiser to indulge him and fight one more bout, or insist on calling it off now. The fire that had so fascinated him was threatening to become a nigh untameable inferno, and yet he found himself willing to risk getting burned. 

A determined, cocky smile touched Hob’s face as he settled into his stance. “Alright Highness, once more then lunch. Let’s see what you’ve learned.” 

This time, Morpheus took the initiative and attacked first, barely waiting for Hob to be ready. He was ferocious, almost out of control, powered by anger and frustration. Hob parried his attack and dodged the one after that, aiming a cut at the Prince’s leg. 

To his great surprise, Morpheus parried it, and Hob now understood why it wasn’t his preferred defensive move: he could feel how the impact of their blades shuddered through the Prince’s lithe form, causing him to stumble ever so slightly off balance. 

Morpheus snarled again and attacked anyway with a quick flick of his wrist, taking Hob almost by surprise. Hob batted his blade away, not a very good parry but enough to get the pointy end away from him. From there, it was easy enough to step into the Prince’s guard, disarm him, and sweep his legs out from under him. Morpheus landed on his back with a grunted huff, most of the wind knocked out of him. When he could breathe again, the Prince moved to rush to his feet, but was stopped by the point of Hob’s sword pointed precisely at the hollow of his throat. 

He growled and snarled his frustration, glaring up at the man who stood over him, immovable as a statue. Anger and bitterness roiled and bubbled, threatening to spill over, but Morpheus grit his teeth and shoved it down. Hob let him smack the blade away in his temper, instead bringing it up to rest easily on his shoulder. Without a word and only kindness on his face, Hob held out a hand to help him to his feet. 

Morpheus grudgingly took it and snatched his sword up. His stomach gave a soft growl, as if tentatively reminding him of its needs. Morpheus ignored it as he stalked away and rolled his shoulders. He faced Hob again with a determined and slightly unhinged frown. “Again.” 

Hob held up a placating hand. “Lunch first, Highness. Then we can keep going.” 

Morpheus stalked up to his guard and got in his face, anger flaring off him as he growled, “I am your Prince. You will do as I order. And I say, again.” Hob thought briefly about obeying, slightly mocking the Prince’s arrogance as he did so. But he had never backed down from anything in his life, and wasn’t about to start now, Prince or no Prince. 

“And I am in charge of making sure you are kept hale and hearty.” Hob’s voice was a deadly purr. He straightened his back and looked down his nose at his charge with threatening menace. “Lunch. First.” 

Morpheus was shaking. His muscles clenched, his hand ready to fly and strike Hob’s maddeningly handsome face for his audacity- but that was not the princely thing to do. It was his job to consider the words of those more knowledgeable than him to make the best decision- and definitely not to pay attention to the heat that had flared low in his belly. “Very well,” he spat, soft and venomous. “Lunch first.” 

Without another word, Hob spread out their lunch on the picnic blanket and sat himself down at one of the corners. The Prince plopped down, snatched up a hunk of bread, and savagely bit into it. The Prince was normally closed off and somewhat irritable, and if Hob didn’t know better, he’d say he was sulking. 

They ate their lunch in silence. Hob finished first and tossed the last crumbs of his bread to the fish in the lake. After resting on his back for a handful of minutes, Morpheus was ready to go again. His face had softened, some of the angry tension remedied by food and a little rest. Without words, they picked up their swords and faced each other again.

Morpheus let out a battle cry that startled the horses and attacked with everything left in him. He so badly wanted to beat Hob just once to appease his pride. Hob held his ground, let the Prince come to him rather than let himself be subject to his chaotic energy. 

He parried one wild attack, then another, then another, traveling backward towards the treeline. Then, to the Prince’s surprise (it really was the last thing he had expected), Hob dodged, exactly the same way Morpheus did. Only, the esquire didn’t go very far- he evaded the attack by hairs, then surged back in. 

His free hand splayed across the Prince’s chest as Hob used his momentum to shove Morpheus into the tree, the edge of his sword held just below the Prince’s chin. Morpheus’ blade slipped from his hand, both from shock as well as the impact that jarred his entire body. Hob could feel the pounding heartbeat beneath his palm, quick and strong. Their breaths mingled hot and heavy in the scant space between them. 

The air was thick and tense, almost ready to burst from the anticipation. Their lips were a hair’s breadth from meeting. The Prince licked his lips as he panted for breath. Hob’s eyes followed every motion of that pink tongue until it withdrew. 

“Do you yield, Highness?” Hob goaded in a raspy murmur. His eyes were positively blazing as he pressed himself just a fraction closer, enough for Morpheus to feel the heat coming off his skin. The Prince shivered and swallowed hard, not wanting to contemplate the clenching in his belly and the heat between his thighs. Hob was starting to shake, barely noticeable, breath caught excitedly in his chest. 

What would Morpheus do? 

The Prince struggled and squirmed, pushing his chest into Hob’s hand, ignoring the sting of the blade across his throat. Hob backed off just a hair with the blade, not wanting to accidentally slice the Prince’s neck open. The hand pinning Morpheus flexed, every muscle from fingers to shoulder bulging slightly as he pushed the Prince back into the tree. 

He sighed with mock disappointment. “What must I do to make you yield, Highness? You’re not exactly in a good position right now.” Morpheus’ eyes flared and glimmered with devilish determination. One of his hands snaked into the space between them, and firmly cupped Hob’s rapidly growing semi with his full hand. 

The Prince smirked, smug and knowing. “It seems, neither are you, Master Gadling.” Hob snarled, baring his teeth and choking back a moan at how good it felt to have the Prince’s hand against him, the friction of his breeches against his flesh. The blunted blade pressed back into the pale column of the Prince’s throat, not yet drawing blood or making a red mark, just enough to indent the skin. They couldn’t do this, they shouldn’t do this. It was a violation of every code of chivalry and honor Hob was now supposed to live by. 

But then why did it feel so good? 

“That’s hardly sporting,” Hob growled back with a slightly wild grin, “Also not very smart, if you’re bluffing.” Rather than backing away, he forced down the little guilty lump in his stomach and pushed back into Morpheus’ palm. The Prince gasped- he could feel Hob throbbing against his hand, hot and hard and insistent. A wicked idea crossed his mind: ever so slightly, he squeezed.

Hob let out a grunt like he had been kicked in his chest, doubling over enough for the blade of his sword to slide down to the Prince’s collarbone and their foreheads to meet. Morpheus let out a decadent chuckle and threw Hob’s own words back at him: “What must I do to make you yield?” He playfully nipped at the tip of Hob’s nose.

The esquire grunted again and took several heaving breaths. His arms were trembling, he had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep a whimper behind his teeth. “Fuck-” he gasped, breathy and barely audible. He glared at Morpheus through his eyelashes. A rush of heat clenched in the Prince’s chest as he observed in real time just how much of an effect he had on his guard. 

“Yield,” the Prince crooned with a smile, “And I will give you what you want.” Hob groaned again- he was only mortal, how was he supposed to resist? He snarled and fought back tears of angry bliss as he shoved the Prince harder against the tree. Morpheus’ eyes went wide- he had thought Hob would succumb, would give in to his baser wants. His esquire clearly had a much stronger will than he could have imagined. 

“This is not a game, Highness.” Hob’s words were soft, for the Prince’s ears alone, but his voice was ragged and cracked and scraped over hot coals. “I swore an oath, keeping you alive is not a game.” He swallowed, some of the anger leaking from his muscles. Morpheus hadn’t moved an inch, his hand still pressed firmly against Hob’s crotch. 

His next words were mumbled, as if he didn’t want to give them life but had no choice. “I may not always be able to protect you.” Morpheus opened his mouth to interrupt but Hob kept going. “We both know it’s unlikely, but it’s true. Burgess has already sent men after you, who knows if he’ll try harder next time. And if that day ever comes, I want you to be able to defend yourself, I want you to be able to stay alive no matter what happens.” 

Morpheus was stunned once again by the extent of Hob’s devotion. “Hob, I-” he choked softly. The hand pressed between Hob’s legs slid up his chest to caress a scruffy cheek- the esquire couldn’t help the soft hum as he leaned into the touch. 

The Prince sighed, and then all the fight melted from his body with a low whimper. He went almost limp, Hob’s hand and the tree at his back doing most of the work to keep him upright. 

“I yield,” he breathed, somehow sounding both regal and petulant at the same time. Hob relaxed his hold with a soft smile. He pressed a brief kiss to the Prince’s forehead and took a step back. Morpheus briefly massaged his throat where the sword had irritated the skin slightly. 

Hob picked up their discarded weapons and threw a smile over his shoulder. “Come on then, we should be getting back.” 

Chapter 5

It was almost impossible to miss the sparks that flew between the Prince and his esquire every time the two were in close proximity, and the ever strengthening bond growing between them as the summer went on. Naturally, the servants began to talk, and, as was the obvious progression of events, word eventually reached the King. 

Chronos knew it would have to be dealt with, but he refused to draw attention to it at a council meeting- the last thing he needed was more public scandal hovering around his heir. Instead, on the day he had chosen to confront his son, he spent his free moments in the council meeting scowling at Morpheus and his guard. 

According to Sir Cain, Hob was performing admirably. Lucienne had been helping him improve his reading, and he had asked to study the chivalric codices along with instructional manuals for all different kinds of combat. He didn’t leave the Prince’s side for any longer than he had to, and Morpheus seemed surprisingly at ease in his constant presence. By anyone else’s estimation, he should be on the path to a knighthood by the end of the summer, a ranking officer by year’s end. 

Chronos’ patience finally snapped one evening after dinner, when Hob and Morpheus had left the hall walking side by side and way too close together, rather than Hob following the Prince like a loyal dog. Hands clenched tightly around polished silver, his teeth ground together dangerously hard. This was not what he had in mind when he insisted his son have a guard while attending him at court. 

It was clear to anyone with eyes that Hob Gadling was the reason Morpheus had been acting strangely; why his son had been rejecting offers of courtship from suitors of realms near and far, why he had been distracted and speaking less frequently during council sessions, why he was neglecting his studies. 

He seethed through the rest of dinner, sipping dry wine in an attempt to take the edge off. Queen Nocturna could feel the ire rolling off him in waves- she wanted to try to ease her husband, but already knew that once he was on a warpath, nothing could dissuade him. She could only hope he wasn’t too harsh on their son, and resolved to be there for Morpheus in the aftermath. Such was the nature of a political marriage. 

Once it was acceptable for Chronos to leave the hall, he stalked out the side door and down the halls to the Prince’s rooms. He didn’t even knock on the door, just threw it open and let it bang loudly against the stone wall. 

Morpheus was indeed in his study, in his nightclothes and a robe, seated in a comfortable armchair, reading a book. The Prince jumped at the sound of the intrusion, immediately frowning and rising to his feet when he saw it was his father. “Father, to what do I owe this late visit?” he asked, trying to keep some semblance of calm and respect. 

Chronos let out a breath through his nose, like a bull preparing to charge. “There is something we very much need to discuss.” He paused. “Your behavior since Gadling became your guard has been most unbefitting of a Prince. If you cannot comport yourself as befits a Crown Prince, I will be dismissing him and choosing your next guard myself. I cannot have you losing focus and neglecting your duties to the realm.” 

Morpheus seethed. Why must Chronos antagonize him? “Father, if you take issue with how Master Gadling has been performing his duties, kindly tell me your concerns and I shall address them. He is, after all, my guard.” His gaze became hard and frosty. “However, if you are merely here to get a rise out of me, I respectfully ask that you leave.” 

“Oh, I have several concerns about that peasant,” Chronos spat. He took a deep breath to unleash all the pent up frustration that had been building for the past few months. 

Unknown to the King, the esquire in question was in the small study adjoining the Prince’s sitting room, seated at the desk, working on his letters- he really had come a long way since the Prince and Lucienne had started helping him, stating that it was only right for a man of his standing to be able to read and write well. His head perked up at the sound of raised voices- there was no mistaking the Prince’s angry rumble, nor the King’s agitated near-shouting. 

Frowning, he put his quill down and rose to his feet, ready to intervene if needed. He rolled up the sleeves of his tunic as he slowly made his way to the door, listening intently while staying out of sight. “The whole reason you were assigned a guard,” he heard the King snap, “was to eliminate opportunities for our enemies to use you against me, not create more of them! Gadling makes you weak, unfocused. I will not have the Crown Prince-” 

Hob couldn’t listen to any more. Chronos may be King, but how dare he inflict such ruthless ire on his son who was about to crack under the weight of duty and expectation. He stepped purposefully into the room, firm enough that Chronos could not miss the resounding clump of his boot against the stone floor. “I think you’ve made your point, your Majesty,” he shot at the King. He moved to stand beside the Prince and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Smoke should have been coming out of Chronos’ ears. “Watch your tongue, Gadling,” he hissed, a threatening finger pointed at Hob, “Morpheus may allow you much more freedom than your station deserves but I will not tolerate such insolence.” 

“With all due respect, Majesty,” Hob growled, taking a step forward, his tone telling the King loud and clear just how much respect the esquire thought him worth, “Your accusations against his Highness are unwarranted. If you have a problem with how I am performing my duties, please talk to me directly, or Sir Cain. Prince Morpheus works tirelessly for the sake of the realm, and even if I were not his appointed guard, I would not see him needlessly harassed.” 

The two royals blinked in disbelief- Chronos in shock at this peasant’s audacity to speak to him like that, Morpheus in awe of the backbone Hob was demonstrating by standing up to his father, looking him in the eye and refusing to back down. Chronos was leveling him with a glare that had made lesser men drop to their knees and grovel, but Hob still stood unshakeable as the most ancient of oaks. 

“You dare.” Chronos’ words were a snarl, deep in his throat like a wild animal, dangerous and threatening. 

“Yes,” Hob shot back with a challenging quirk of his brow, “I swore an oath to defend the Prince from any and all who would harm him, no matter who or what.” He glared at the King, fire blazing hot and deep in his eyes. “So yes, I dare.”

The King shook and seethed as Hob and Morpheus stared him down, immovable as stone. He glared at his son. “We are not done with this conversation.” With that ominous pronouncement, he turned swiftly on his heels and stalked out of the Prince’s rooms, slamming the door behind him.

Both men let out a sigh of relief when the echo of the closing door had faded. Morpheus sank back into his armchair and massaged his temples with a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut. He felt a headache coming on. Hob immediately knelt before him, a tentative hand on the Prince’s knee. “Are you alright, Highness?” he asked softly, none of the anger or hardness of moments ago present in his face. 

Morpheus let out a shuddering sigh. “You need not have come to my defense,” he murmured back, flat and numb, refusing to look at Hob. “My father and I have had a strained relationship since I reached my majority. Words like this are hardly uncommon.” 

“That doesn’t make it right.” Hob gently took the Prince’s hands in his- oh gods the Prince was shaking. He held those pale hands in a grip both gentle and firm, grounding. He rubbed his thumbs across the backs. “I swore an oath, Highness.” Morpheus opened his eyes to stare at his guard, kneeling at his feet. His guard, gazing up at him like he had hung the stars in the sky. The Prince couldn’t ignore the swooping sensation deep in his stomach- never had he been the subject of such open adoration, devotion, dare he say lo-

“I swore to defend you from any and all that would hurt you, and that includes your prick of a father.” He glanced at the floor and rattled off a few sentences in at least two different languages the Prince was somewhat familiar with, and none of the words sounded flattering. Morpheus gasped and fought a quick, losing battle against the urge to laugh. 

“Referring to the King as such could be seen as treason,” he teased. Hob returned his grin, happy to have shaken Morpheus out of the shock of his argument with Chronos. 

“Then hang me for treason,” he chuckled. A relieved grin touched his face as he held the Prince’s hands up to his lips and pressed a firm, tender kiss to the smooth knuckles. Hob stood, the Prince rising with him. 

“Thank you, Hob.” Morpheus’ words were soft, directed at Hob’s feet- with luck, his guard wouldn’t notice the flush of heat in his cheeks. It was a heady feeling to be under this man’s protection- his devotion to Morpheus’ well being went far beyond simple duty. Hob Gadling was whole-heartedly committed to Morpheus- not just the Crown Prince of the realm, but Morpheus the man- he’d hold Morpheus tenderly close with one arm while the other brandished a sword at the entire world, to challenge him if they dared. “Thank you, but-“ 

“I know.” Hob’s words were low and resigned, heavy with sadness. “I know. We can’t.” He pulled away ever so slightly, but to his surprise, Morpheus refused to let him go.

“We can’t,” the Prince agreed, something close to mischief twinkling in his eye, “and yet I would reward you anyway, if you would indulge me.” Morpheus turned them so his back was to the lowly smoldering fire, and eased Hob into the chair he had just been sitting in. Morpheus’ warmth still lingered in the soft cushions, and it seeped through Hob’s clothes to caress his skin. 

Hob’s eyes went wide when Morpheus knelt at his feet, his fingers still firmly gripped by hands cool and smooth as silk at night. The Prince’s robe flared out behind him in a swath of navy satin lightly embroidered with silver. 

Slowly, gently, he guided Hob’s hands to the chair’s arms and firmly placed them there, with a look that told Hob he was expected to keep them there. Those fathomless blue eyes kept him pinned in place, barely breathing, as Morpheus’ fingers slid from his hands to just above his knees. Those fingers teasingly crawled higher and higher, their lightest touches enough to send sparks flying through Hob’s veins. The warmth of the embers in the hearth had nothing to do with the heat burning at the underside of Hob’s skin, and he now had a vague idea of what Morpheus meant by ‘reward.’ 

“Highness,” he weakly protested, squirming slightly, “Please, you can’t-”

“I am your Prince-” Those four words immediately made the esquire stop fidgeting, and were made all the stronger for the rumbling murmur they were spoken in. It was a statement that would never cease to be true, even if no one was around to hear it. “-and this is how I choose to reward you for your service. You wouldn’t presume to refuse a reward from your Prince, would you?”

Hob shook his head. With a satisfied smirk, Morpheus’ fingers slipped under the hem of his tunic to find the ties of his breeches. He teased the knot apart, making sure to ghost his fingertips over Hob’s bare skin every few moments. Each touch to the sensitive skin just around his groin made him twitch and jump, unsure of whether he should try to sink back into the chair or lean forward for more. 

Once there was enough room, Morpheus let one ghostly hand slip into Hob’s trousers to palm his cock. Hob jumped with a yelp at the slight but unexpected chill of the Prince’s flesh against his. “Hob,” Morpheus ground out in warning. “Be still.” 

“Yes, Highness.” Hob’s breathless reply was instinctive, slipping from his mouth before his mind had a chance to cognitively string together the words. Panting for breath, the esquire forced himself to settle back into the chair. The Prince rewarded him with a pleased smile and a few gentle strokes to his rapidly stiffening cock, despite the tiny, screaming voice in his head urging him to beg the Prince to stop, that they couldn’t do this. 

Once he had coaxed Hob to full hardness, both of Morpheus’ hands slipped under his breeches to squeeze his flanks. Taking the hint, Hob pressed his feet into the floor just enough to let Morpheus wiggle his breeches down to the tops of his boots, just below his knees. The Prince slowly, menacingly licked his lips at the sight of Hob’s bare flesh straining towards him, gently shadowed and draped by the hem of his tunic. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Hob’s, pupils blown wide, the remaining blue blazing with near desperate heat. If Hob hadn’t been lost before, he certainly was now. He almost came then and there, just from the sight of Prince Morpheus Aeterna kneeling at his feet,  staring at him with what could only be described as burning lust. 

It was so wrong, for their positions to be reversed like this, and yet neither could deny the thrill that zinged through both of them, sparking between them the way lightning hit a tree. It went against everything they knew to be true; a Prince should kneel before no one save the King and Queen.

Morpheus would gladly spend the rest of his days at Hob’s feet, showering him in the same devotion Hob had graced him with. 

Ever so slowly, the slowness of careful deliberation rather than uncertainty, Morpheus took the base of Hob’s prick in hand, and lowered his head. 

Hob would have been embarrassed at the high pitched whine that left him, almost a squeal, had anyone other than the Prince been around to hear it. In a startling contrast to the chill of his hands, the Prince’s mouth was an inferno, hot and wet and utterly fucking perfect. Hob couldn’t remember the last time he had someone’s mouth on him, let alone one that felt so good. 

“Fuck, Highness-” he gasped as Morpheus’ tongue swirled around the head and dipped into the slit, exactly the same delicate motions he had seen the Prince use to lick sweet cream out of a hollowed strawberry. He felt more than heard the soft, satisfied “hmph” as Morpheus took him deeper. Hob sank further into the chair, biting into his knuckles hard enough to leave an indent in an effort to muffle his moans. 

The Prince savored every taste of Hob’s warm flesh, every drop of precome that leaked onto his tongue. Hob’s scent filled his nose, musk and linen and leather and something so masculine it made him shiver. Even with his eyes closed and mouth wrapped around Hob’s cock, Morpheus looked entirely too pleased with himself. Princes got what they wanted, yes? He pulled away with a suck and a kiss to stare devilishly at his esquire. “I would have you gasp and cry my name, Master Gadling, if you are able to string the words together.” 

Hob couldn’t stop the wanton groan that punched itself out of his chest. He had known the Prince to be steady and confidently poised since the moment they met, but this was something more. Normally, Hob despised arrogance of any kind, but when it seasoned Morpheus’ words as the man knelt before him? It was sweeter than ambrosia, more delectable than the finest of wines, melted in his mouth like buttery pastry. He couldn’t get enough. 

Scarlet suffused his cheeks as he sank even further into the chair, unable to hold up his own weight as the Prince resumed his attentions. Hob’s fingers bit into the armrests of the chair to keep them from straying to the Prince’s ebony locks that practically begged for his grip. Morpheus kept a steady pace, not slow enough to be considered teasing, and yet definitely not enough to bring Hob to his peak. He had just enough mental acuity to wonder if this was actually a reward, or just cleverly disguised torture. 

While Hob slowly unraveled under his tongue, Morpheus’ hand snuck into his own loose breeches to take himself in hand. The jolt of pleasure was so strong he almost bit into Hob’s shaft, but was able to stop himself with a whimper. Morpheus knew he was as good as useless in Istoria, whiling away the summer at his father’s court where he had no real say, no real power, and yet he could still feel the burden of his station and responsibilities heavy across his shoulders. But here, at Hob’s feet, he could let all of that go. He wasn’t beholden to duty, or custom, he could thank his guard for services rendered, and do so in whatever manner he chose.

“Prince-” he gasped, the sound morphing into an almost watery whimper as Morpheus completely froze, his tongue barely twitching as it lay flat against his shaft. Sparkling eyes flicked up to Hob’s flushed face and an elegant brow twitched. Hob took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Morpheus…” The Prince’s name was rasped with such breathless adoration the Prince almost came in his breeches like a teenager. 

Hob swallowed again. “Morpheus, please-” 

Morpheus pulled away long enough to whisper, “As my knight commands,” the gentle breath against the wet tip of his cock sending a shiver up and down Hob’s spine. It only took a few more licks and sucks on his head and a gentle twist of his hand for Hob to come with a barely held back shout. He spilled into Morpheus’ mouth, the Prince eagerly swallowing it down. A stray drop trickled out of the corner of his mouth when he finally pulled off; he wiped it away with the back of his hand. 

Hob panted for breath and sank into the chair, boneless and pleasantly warm. Morpheus rose to his feet and settled himself in Hob’s lap, straddling a muscular thigh. “If you’ll allow me…” he breathed, wrecked and gravelly. Hob could barely process what the Prince meant by that before Morpheus was rocking his hips back and forth, grinding his cock into Hob’s leg. 

Hob’s prick twitched painfully once he realized what Morpheus was doing, and callused hands immediately bit into the Prince’s slim waist, digging into the satin of his robe and linen of his tunic. “Oh fuck,” Hob gasped, stray wisps of hair sticking to his forehead as his head fell back. 

Morpheus held on to his guard’s broad shoulders, pushing into them for leverage. The friction was delicious, and the sting of Hob pulling him closer ripped a gasp from his throat. Nails bit into muscle as Morpheus pushed and pulled to get more of that friction, more of that pressure, more of the heat radiating from Hob’s skin. He bit his lip against a whimper and let his head fall to rest in the crook of Hob’s neck.

It only took a few more deliberate motions of his hips to send Morpheus over the edge, his release soaking through his breeches and just barely dampening Hob’s. The two panted softly for breath, basking in the other’s presence. Morpheus hadn’t known how much tension he had been carrying until he felt it melt out of his bones and muscles just then. 

Morpheus lifted his head just enough to slant his lips across Hob’s, tenderly holding a scruffy cheek in the palm of his hand. Hob melted into the languid kiss with a quiet hum, letting himself luxuriate in the feeling of the Prince’s lips and the warmth of his body for just a little longer, before they must both take back up the mantles of their duties. 

With a heavy sigh, Morpheus eased himself off Hob’s lap and adjusted his robe, a pink flush still decorating his cheeks. He pressed a gentle kiss to Hob’s forehead, as if in blessing. His lips lingered there as he whispered, “Goodnight, Hob Gadling.” 

Hob swallowed and reverently lowered his gaze. “Goodnight, Prince Morpheus.”

#the sandman #dreamling #centennial husbands big bang

[gabessquishytum]

Long time Lurker, first time messager, love your blog btw. Anyway I just got back from a wedding which reminded me of an au my bud and I have p much written in its entirety through text chains but the basic gist is this. Man of honor Dream and Best Man Hob for Jessamy and Matthew's wedding. Dream is a Neurotic Mess bc he Will make sure everything is perfect for his bestie, she already has enough to worry about just Being the Bride, let alone all this inane Bullshit that comes with planning a wedding. He takes his stress out on Hob, Matthew's best man who is similarly devoted if not a little less Messy about it. And of course by Take Out His Stress I mean fucking Hob every time he sees him. Cake tasting? Bathroom Handjobs. When he sees Hob in his suit at the tailors? Blows him in the dressing room IMMEDIATELY. Every wedding planning event ends with them sneaking off for some sort of quickie bc Dream just Can't Deal with it any other way. And I mean it's kind of tradition for the best man and Maid of Honor to fuck right? We had a whole thing about Feelings at the end but this is the basic premise and I thought you would enjoy ❤️

Skssks thank you so much for sending this!!! I love an unhinged horny Dream who deals with stress by being an absolute slut about it!

The best part is that Hob is just as stressed but his coping mechanisms are more like... having very sleepless nights and chewing his fingernails down to nothing. Suddenly he's having his back blown out in a public bathroom and he's like oh?? Maybe this is a better way of dealing!! And he becomes just as hornily unhinged as Dream is <33

Maybe on the wedding day itself they don't fuck until Matthew and Jessamy have been safely sent off for their honeymoon. Hob takes Dream to KFC at 2am or something and they eat fried chicken and maybe have a little cry about the wedding being all over now and it was just a lot, wasn't it?

Dream is so tired and emotional he's just like "Come home with me I need to fuck you on an actual bed at least one time." And then they just stay together forever and Matthew and Jessamy have to plan their wedding two years later <3

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[shitpostingiris]

Fic inspired, beta read, and my second in hand with writing this fic @moss-is-a-tasty-snack

Lost and Found

CHAPTER 2- trouble in paradise

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings-mentions of being shot, blood

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A few centuries passed as y/n and Dream lived together in his realm. Never growing tired of one another. The heart eyes never dwindling no matter how many times they embraced or looked at each other.

Dream and y/n laid tangled together in each other and the sheets of the bed in Dream's chambers. Dream caressed her face “I’m sorry love it is time for me to go catch the Corinthian. I promise I will be with you by tonight. Before you argue, darling, you're not coming, you need to rest.” He pressed a kiss to y/n forehead then her lips before getting up and leaving. Y/n smiled as she watched the love of her life walk away knowing in her heart he’d never leave her.

Days passed as there was no sign of Dream returning. He was cut off from her entirely. She felt cold and empty without their connection. She shut herself up in Their shared room. Breathing in Dreams scent that clouded the room.

Weeks passed Y/n not leaving their room once. Lucienne began to worry not only for her master but also his wife who she had grown to love like a sister. Y/n had let herself wallow into a deep pit of depression and despair. Not answering once when anyone came and knocked on the door. Checking up on her. She only wanted her Dream back.

Months passed still no sight of Dream. Their connection still severed. Y/n sat up in their bed swallowed by the sheets. streaks of tears stained their face. The spark of fury sparked in her eyes. Quickly standing up flinging the sheets away from her. She was tired of wallowing and doing nothing to find her husband. She slipped into one of his robes. They magically tightened and loosened to fit her frame. They rushed down the stairs looking at the crumbling palace she calls home. She burst in the library Lucienne shocked to see her. Slamming her hands on the table looking her directly in the eyes “we are finding my fucking husband lucienne”

Lucienne informed her that she had sent Jessamy to aid Dream not long after he disappeared, Y/n getting a brilliant idea to use her connection to the dream world that was strengthening as days passed. Hopping up on the table she reached out in her subconscious forming a connection with the raven. Jessamy giving her details of Dream's imprisonment, the raven and y/n forming a plan to distract the mortals. With hope she could project her subconscious to Dream aiding in his escape. Unbeknown to either of them the connection with the Dreaming had changed more than anyone knew when it came to y/n's being.

Y/n waited for Jessamy's signal to project herself into the Burgess's basement. Her distorted form silently waiting in the void until she could smell the burning. Pushing forward she felt the cold wind of the void pushing y/n to her destination. With a whirring sound y/n opened her eyes to see her husband in his prison. Both of their eyes widening as they looked at each other. Tears that threatened to spill.

Walking forward with an out reached hand. Dream started to stand hope filling them both that they were finally going to reunite. Suddenly a loud bang filled the room. Y/n stilled as pain shot through her body. Dream banged on the glass with pleading eyes. Looking down, y/n could see blood spreading through the robes. She stumbled, her knees hitting the floor. Tears spilling from both pairs of eyes. Y/n's form disappeared into thin air, as Jessamy lay lifeless in a heap before Dream.

The dream lord stood there with wide teary eyes looking to Alex burgess. A look that could only be described as pure hatred. A look that shook the young boy to his core. Dream silently sat back down in his glass cage. All hope leaving his body and worry seeping in. Only thinking of what became his wife.

Lucienne stood at the table waiting for y/n to return. A strong wind filling the library ruffling the pages of books that laid open. Y/n's body falling onto the table with a loud sound. Blood had covered her stomach staining everything. Lucienne rushed to her side looking for any signs of life. Only to see the shallow breathing of y/n unconscious form.

As Lucienne picked up y/n's limp body. A whimpering is all that could be heard leaving her lips. She carried y/n to her room carefully lying her down. Before making quick work trying to figure out how she was able to be harmed.

A year passed and y/n was still yet to wake. The dreaming decaying faster every day. Y/n's eyes opened a gasp leaving her lips. An invisible wave shook through the dreaming. Only seconds later a worried Lucienne busted through the doors of her room. “Y/n, you’re awake! Finally, I never gave up hope that you would come back.” With a groan y/n managed to lift her body into a sitting position. “How long was I out for Lucienne? Has Dream returned to us yet?“ worry coating her words as she spoke looking at Lucienne with hope. Lucienne looking to the floor shook her head “Lord morpheus has not returned to us. You were asleep for little over a year” Y/n brought her head into her hands with defeat.

Y/n remained in bed for a few hours after Lucienne had left. Trying her hardest to remember what happened the night she was hurt. No memories ever serving to ease her mind. Yet no matter what, y/n could not give up hope in finding her husband.

Years passed and there was still no word or sight of Dream since his disappearance. Many residents of the dreaming left, some went out searching for their master. Some deciding he got tired of his responsibility and abandoned them. Lucienne never gave up hope in finding her master. Now filled with a new hope with y/n waking. They continued their search for Dream of the Endless.

It’s the year 2021, a little over a century since her love had left to take care of the Corinthian. y/n sat on her husband's throne dressed in one of his long pitch black robes. The only thing he had left for a reminder. She herself had become connected to this realm in his absence. Weakening herself by trying to maintain a realm that was not hers. Weakened by not only that but the mortals slowly one by one forgetting her. They slowly stopped believing in love due to her absence. She could only hold on by the hope her love would come back to her accompanied by the rare amount of love she got from the mortals.

Lucienne rushed into the throne room with wild eyes. Tears brimming her lashes threatening to fall. “Y/n he’s back. Dream is back” those were the only words y/n heard before running out of the palace never once slowing until she was out the gates. In the distance she saw the body of a man lying in the sand. Rushing to his side, falling down to her knees, tears falling down her face like a waterfall. Grasping his face in her hands he opened his eyes. She spoke with a wavering voice racked by sobs “my love you’re back. You’ve finally returned to me” her tears falling down onto dreams own face. He slowly reached up to cup her cheek in his palm, shock and relief engulfing his features seeing his beloved alive. She nuzzled into his palm feeling the tie between the two healing. Lucienne stared at the two smiling looking down to dream their eyes connecting “it’s nice to finally have you back sir, we all worried for you.”

Y/n, Lucienne, and Dream walked towards the gate. Standing at its doors y/n looked at Dream “the realm is not as you left is my love. I tried my hardest to preserve what I could.” Dream could finally get a good look at his wife. Her face sunken and drained, eyes red with the years or crying, her hair a mess, his own robe draping over her frame. The sight brought him to tears. Tears that fell at the state of his beautiful wife.

Once they entered the crumbling throne room. He approached his wife wrapping his arms around her. “You are weak, my love. You’ve over exerted yourself by keeping what you could of my realm from ruin. That was not your responsibility to bear. For that I am forever sorry. I too, am sorry, for not realising the mortal behind you. Perhaps if I had seen him, you may not have been harmed.” Y/n clenched onto his robes like he was going to disappear yet again. “I'm sure Destiny meant for everything to happen as it has. Besides, I was not going to allow this place to go completely to ruins when I knew I could help. The mortals are forgetting what love is like. And I can do nothing about it. I’m just so glad I could see and feel you again before I surrender myself to the Endless.” The word endless makes Dream's eyes widen. He knew how to restore his wife to her former glory much like himself.

Dream grabbed her by the chin forcing her to look into his eyes “we said our love was endless, erotes. We are endless. I am not letting you go ever again.” Y/n knew Dream had a plan to save her. She only nodded silently. No words could describe how she currently felt so she stayed silent. Knowing Dream understood.

Dream released his grasp on his wife and sat down on the stairs. “They stole from me. They imprisoned me. They took the one thing that’s in replaceable.” Looking up looking at his face with shame written on his face “they took my ring y/n” he stood up sand wrapping around him. his clothes changing once again. “I am going to get them. My helm, my ruby, my sand.” Looking at y/n “My ring” y/n's eyes trailed down to her husband's finger to see it bare of the band he cherished.

Fury rushed through y/n's body hearing what those mere mortals had done to her love. Her memories of that night they all lost Jessamy returning to her. She lightly touched her stomach where a scar she didn’t remember having carved into her skin for years. Walking towards him she looked up into his eyes “I’m going with you Morpheus. And this is not debate-able. We are getting them all back. I’m not losing you again” taking each other’s hands looking to Lucienne, y/n spoke “I hope you don’t mind looking after everything one last time Lucienne.” With a smile and worry written in her eyes clear as day Lucienne spoke “of course not y/n, if you’d both do me one last thing before you go. Please take a raven with you.”

A few hours had passed since Dream had left to speak with the fates Lucienne following after him. A few hours since her Dream had returned to her. Y/n took the time to freshen herself up. She could see life and love possessing her once again. Not looking so sickly anymore. She could feel her power seeping back into her skin. As love returned to the waking world. She stood in front of the mirror. Staring back at herself dressed in one of her own dresses for the first time in a long time

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#sandman fic #sandman netflix #sandman comics #neil gaiman sandman #morpheus #dream x reader #dream #dream of the endless #tom sturridge

[succubusdaydream]

:ITS HEEERE!! MY FIRST STORY! I've had an idea like this for a while and I've been writing it for almost a week trying to get it to a point I like. Shoutout to @arcerai for staying up with me most nights and listening to me rant about this. I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think <3

Summary: Morpheus has a lover. A child of the goddess Aphrodite, a Cupid. Though he knows her as (y/n). When Morpheus was captured, she did her best to keep The Dreaming together, but when her power drained, she too fell with it. Putting herself into a deep sleep to preserve her life.

Morpheus x Cupid!Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, tried to use (y/n) as little as possible

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder (Jessamy I love you), capture, cults, angst with happy ending

Word count: 5k

----------------------------------------------------

                “Darling, promise me you’ll be safe. Lucienne has a bad feeling, and you know to trust her gut. She is rarely wrong about these things.” Cupid, otherwise known to her subjects as (y/n), spoke to her husband Morpheus has he gripped his helm, preparing to depart to the Waking world. A nightmare had escaped, one of his bests. The Corinthian.

                “I always am, my love. And it is only the Corinthian. He does not have has much power in the waking world.” Morpheus turned to his wife, grasping her face in one of his hands. “I shall return swiftly.”

                “Good, you know how much I hate being separated from you.” Her voice was low as she nuzzled her face deeper into his palm, holding her own hand over it and placing a kiss on his wrist. “Be safe and bring him home.” With that, she stepped away from the Lord and watched as he put on his helm before taking out a pouch of sand from his pocket. And as he poured it out, it swirled around him, and he was soon gone.

                “My lady? Shall I prepare tea? It should help with your nerves.” The voice of Lucienne, the royal librarian rung out behind her, her hand clasped behind her back as she stepped closer to her queen.

                “Yell, thank you, Lucienne. Tea sounds rather lovely right now.” The wings on the queens back shuffled as she turned away from her spot and walked towards the librarian. “Will you join me? I don’t really wish to be alone. I too have an uneasy feeling about this.” Her eyes pleaded at the librarian, and she gently took her hand to clasp it and walked in the direction of the gardens.

                “It would be my pleasure, your highness.”  

——

                In the Waking World, Lord Morpheus had found the Corinthian. But he was soon summoned, forcefully pulled into the basement of a lavish estate. He felt weak and exposed as the Magus who summoned him ripped his cloak from him. He had taken his pouch and sand. He could hear the caw of his crow, Jessamy, who had hidden herself in his cloak. She flew off, and he hoped she would inform his lover of this change in events.

                “We’ll let out guest recover before we tell him out demands.” The voice belonged to Roderick Burgees. The Magus and leader of the cult the resided in the Fawny Riggs estate. He and his disciples left the cold basement, leaving the Dream Lord to lie on the cold basement floor. Bare and stuck within the summoning circle.

                The next morning, Burgees awoke to a ringing at his door. It was constant and annoying. But when he opened it and stepped out, there was no one there.

                “Good morning, Magus.” He turned back at the voice only to see a figure enter his home, dressed in tan clothing. As he retreated into the house, he came face to face with a blonde man who was adorned with sunglasses and a grin on his lips.

                “Do I know you?” Roderick’s voice was harsh and held a hint of anger. Who was this man and who does he think he is that he can just enter his estate?

                “No. But I know all about you, Roderick, and the being you’ve trapped in your cellar.” The man walked into a study, wandering around and glancing at the Burgess’ belonging.

                “Blackmail then, is it? A shakedown?” Roderick followed; his voice dipped with more anger.

                “Not at all. I’m here to help you. You’re gonna need all the help you can get.” The grin across his face grew as he turned to the magus. “There are benefits to keeping one of The Endless close.”

——

                Back in The Dreaming, the queen paced around the throne room, her wings wrapped around her body as her long and elegant dress flowed behind her. Where is he? It’s been too long since Morpheus left. He should have been back by now.

                The Queen was lost in thought but was quickly brought out by the caw of a raven. Jessamy. She quickly turned, smiling at the sight of her husband’s faithful bird and held her hand out. As the raven landed, the woman spoke. “Jessamy, sweet bird. Where is Morpheus?” The raven let out more noises, and though to most residents of the dreaming it sounded like simple caws and clicks of her beak, her queen understood it. And her face soon turned from a smile to that of despair. “Please be lying, Jessamy.” Her voice trembled and she turned and ran to the library, the raven still in her grasp.

                “Lucienne! Lucienne where are you?!” Her voice and footsteps echoed through out the grand library as she frantically searched for its librarian.

“My lady? What’s wrong?” Lucienne appeared from a row of shelves; her movements quick as she heard the despair in her lady’s voice. “What’s happened?”

                “It’s Morpheus. H-He’s been captured. A cult of humans has him locked in a cellar. They’ve taken his tools.” Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill. They were wide as she placed Jessamy on a table, taking Lucienne’s hands in hers. “What do I do?”

                “I-I’m not sure, my lady. If the Lord is captured, the Dreaming might start to collapse. The residents could notice him absence. I…I’m not sure if we’ll be able to help him.” Her words made the queen more frantic and the grip she had on Lucienne tightened. “With all due respect, my lady. You are not as strong has his lordship, and is he was captured, you very well might be as well if you attempt a rescue.”

                The queen let out a sob and she released her grip on Lucienne’s hands, falling to the ground with a cry. Her dress pooled around her fallen body and her wings sagged, the pure feathers dragging to the ground. “So…so I am just supposed to leave him? What kind of wife would leave her husband captured and tortured?” She hiccups through her sentence and looks towards the other woman who had lowered herself to the ground.

                “My lady, if you were to be captured, there would be no one to keep The Dreaming stable. It would crumble with both it’s rulers in such a state. I’m positive his lordship would want you here, where it is safe.” Her voice was soft as she held the queen’s face in her hands. “Please, my lady. You must stay here.” She had a point. If both the lord and lady of the realm were to be captured, then it would crumble and decay. It would no longer exist.

                The queen realized and sighed, falling into Lucienne as more sobs wracked through her body. “But he’s alone. He’s trapped and he has no one.” Her tears fell to the ground and Lucienne’s arms wrapped around her. “Am I really to leave him?”

                They sat together for hours, the silence only broken by the occasional hiccup and sobs that would leave the lady’s mouth. Their king was gone. Captured by amateur mages. And now the queen had to deal with The Dreaming all by herself.

——

                It had been 10 years in the Waking World. Ten years Morpheus sat in a glass bubble and suspended above the holding circle. His presence remained unknown to the rest of the world. It was always quiet in the cellar, sound only coming from upstairs when the Magus would host the occasional party. Other than that, he always sat in silence. He ignored the older Burgess and refused to speak when he came down to shout at him. Demand his for his dead son Randall back in exchange for his freedom.

                Though today, the silence was broken by the sound of the gate opening and footsteps growing closer. “Hello. It’s Alex…the Magus’ son.” Morpheus’ eye glanced up, following the boy as he walked around his cage. “I don’t know if you can speak, or if you can even hear me.” He stopped, staring into the bare man’s eyes. They looked as if they help the stars in them. “I just wanted to ask…are you alright in there?”

                The boy paused before letting out a scoff. “No, of course you’re not. I-I’m sorry…about all of this. He’s not a bad man, my father. If you could just bring Randall back, or give him something, anything. Or even speak to him, then I’m certain he would let you out.” He sighed and stepped closer. “I…I would let you out…if I could.” As he finished his sentence, he jumped at the sound of his father’s voice behind him.

                “You would, would you?” Roderick Burgees had heard his whole speech. He grabbed his son in anger and dragged him back upstairs. Morpheus could barley hear the shouting his father did before it went quiet. Minutes passed before the guards at the gates stood up, the smell of smoke filling the air and causing them to rush upstairs, leaving the door open and allowing room for a certain raven to slip in.

——

                Lady (y/n) watched through the eyes of Jessamy as she lit a match, starting a fire in the study. It drew the attention of the guards and caused them to leave the basement door cracked. As Jessamy flew down, a smile spread across the Queen’s lips as she saw her lover. He looked so sad. He was help in a glass cage and help up by chains.

                “My love.” She whispered to herself. “Lucienne, Jessamy’s found him!” Her voice echoed through the throne room, Lucienne standing behind her with her hands clasped together in a prayer like stance. “Get him out, Jessamy. Please, find a way to let him out.”

                In the cage, Morpheus’ eye lit up at the sight of his companion. He could also feel the presence of his wife through the raven. He watched as Jessamy frantically pecked at the glass and clawed at the chains. He rose in position, holding his hand to the glass. But Jessamy was not able to release him. And both Morpheus and the Queen witness a shot of red splattering against the glass.

                The Queen’s connection to Jessamy was cut off. The last thing she heard and saw was the shot of a gun and the red of blood coating the glass. “Jess? Jessamy?” She reached out in front of her, grasping at the air. “No…no!” Her hand flew to her heart, holding it as tears filled her eyes.

                “My lady? What’s happened? Was Jessamy able to-“ Lucienne rushed to her lady’s side, but her words were cut off as the Queen fell to the floor and a wail of pain and anger sounded from her throat. Her wings straightened out as a burst of energy left her body, causing Lucienne to stumble for a second. She watched as her body fell with a thump, her dress and wings lay around her and her eye closed.

                “My lady?!” Lucienne dropped to her knees at her side, pulling her body into her lap and stroking her hair out of her face. Her skin was cold, and the color had drained from her face. She was still breathing, but it was shallow and slow. “My lady? Can you hear me?” She continued to call out, tears appearing in the corner of her eyes as she bent over, dragging her lady to her chambers.

                Morpheus watched as the young Burgees stepped forward and kneeled, gently picking up Jessamy’s body and walking out of the basement. Tears fell from his eyes as he stared at the red stain that now soaked into the stone. The hope he felt was now gone, none left to remain as he felt his final connection to his lover break. He was alone now, with no one to free him.

                Days had passed before Rodrick came back down the stairs, fury in his eyes and his son behind him. He stopped in front of the binding circle. “The women who lives with me has gone a robbed me of my fortune. She’s also robbed you. She has taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby.” His voice was stern as his grip on his cane tightened. “Now, I can unlock this cage, and you can go after her…if you give me what I’ve been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality.”

                His speech fell def on the Dream Lord’s ears and he only focused in when Rodrick stepped closer, banging his cane onto the glass. “Speak to me! Speak! Speak to me!” He shouted in anger. And when his son stepped up to make him stop, he turned in around, pushing his son away with the stick. “Get away from me! If you were any kind of son to me…If Randall were alive today-“ He was cut off

                “If Randall were alive, he would hate you as much as I do!” Alex shoved his father, his head colliding harshly with the glass.

                Blood flowed from his head and Rodrick glanced up, and evil smirk on his face. “You’re never getting out of here. Never.” And with his final breath, his son stepped around the cage. Morpheus’ eye followed him, and he rose from his sitting position. Raising his hand to the glass, his eyes bored into the younger Burgees. In return, Alex’s hand lifted to meet his, but his actions were cut by the butler’s voice

                “Don’t do it sir! He’ll kill us all!” Stepping back, Alex sighed, and he held a far off look in his eyes as he spoke.

                “I need to think.” And once again, the hope that Morpheus held was gone and he watched as Alex left the basement.

——

Many years had passed in the Dreaming. The Queen had not awoken, and her body was eventually moved to her garden. The flowers were the only thing that remained in the realm, the rest of it decaying with its rulers missing and powerless. Her body lay on a lavish bed, a soft pillow below her head and her hands crossed over her chest. Her breathing was shallow and almost non-existent.

                Each day, Lucienne would visit and check on her. Making sure her short breaths still came and wiping her face of any dust that fell against her skin. And soon after she fell asleep, Cain and Able would come weekly and wash her wings, stretching them and brushing through her soft feathers. They were two of the most loyal citizens of the Dreaming and some of the only remaining subjects.

                But she never woke. And her body grew colder with each passing day and the color never returned to her face.

——

                “I could have asked you for wealth or power, like my father did. But all I ever wanted was to be free of you. Surely you want that too.” Alex Burgees was old. His hair had gone grey, and wrinkles now donned his skin. With the tool of the Dream Lord stolen, his immortality had been stolen with them.

                “Alex, Darling, please.” Paul, Alex’s husband, spoke from behind him. His hands were on a wheelchair and his eyes begged his lover to sit. And he did.

                “Take me upstairs, Paul. I won’t be coming down here again.” As Paul turned himself and his husband around, the wheel of Alex’s wheelchair smudged a part of the binding circle. It was broken. And for the first time, Morpheus felt a sliver of his power return. His gaze followed Paul and Alex and once they were out of sight, his eyes focused on a guard that sat at a table near the gate.

                Sitting up, the Dream Lord pressed his hands against the glass cage and focused as much of his power as he could. It worked, and he watched the guard yawn and fall under his spell. With closed eyes, the guard stood and drew his gun. He aimed and the cage and shot, causing Morpheus to jump back. His body jolted with every shot the guard fired. And within a few shots, the glass shattered.

                He was free. And upstairs, Alex Burgees fell into a deep sleep. In his dream, he stood in his own home. It was dark and the moon shone through the large windows. “Paul?” His voice echoed through the empty hallways and his gaze jumped down when we felt a soft body graze against his legs. It was a cat. “Well, hello. Where did you come from?”

                He followed it as it went upstairs and into an attic like room. It was empty with only a throne like chair. It hopped onto the seat and as Alex blinked, it changed into a man. His figure hidden in the shadows and white dots for eyes, like that of stars. And when he spoke, his voice was deep, laced with anger and resentment. “Hello.”

                Alex stepped back in shock. “It’s…it’s you. Y-you’re free.”

                “I am. And you have any idea what it was like?” Dream stood, stepping closer to the man, who’s body now resembled his younger teen self. “Confined to a cage for over a century? Do you understand the damage you’ve done to your world?” Alex now resembled himself as a child. What he looked like when the Dream Lord was first captured.

                “I-I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know. Please!” The young boy was backed against a wall and slid down, his gaze locked with Morpheus as the King followed him down.

                “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” Morpheus brought his fist up, sand spilling from his grasp as his palm opened. “I give you this, the gift…of eternal…sleep.”

——

                The body of the dream king fell to the ground, many feet from bronze gates. And as Morpheus lay there, a voice reached his ears. “Sir! Sir!” It was so close. So familiar. A voice he came to think he’d never hear again. “Oh, my goodness. Sir?” Lucienne’s form fell beside him as she rolled him over, her eyes falling onto the face of her long missing king. “Sir, it’s me. It’s Lucienne.”

                A smile stretched across Morpheus’ lips as his hand reached up to grasp hers. “Lucienne.” His voice was low and held a sense of disbelief.

                “You’re home, my Lord.”

                “I am.” He stood and with the help of his librarian, he made his way to the gates. And they groaned as they opened.

                “Forgive me, sire, but…the realm, the palace…they are not as you left them.” The realm looked deserted. The greenery was dead and the castle in the distance was crumbling.

                “What happened here? Who did this?” Tears threatened to fill the Lord’s eyes as his heart clenched at the sight of his once glorious realm.

                “My Lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble. Her ladyship tried her best to keep it together but…” Lucienne’s voice trailed off and her king turned back to her.

                “And the residents? The palace staff?”

                “I’m afraid most have gone?”

                “Gone?”

                “Most went looking for you.”

                “And the others?”

                “They thought, perhaps, you’d grown weary of your duties and-“ Lucienne was cut off

                “Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me? Do my own subjects not know me?” Morpheus turned back to look over his kingdom and stepped forward. “And my queen? Has she left me as well?”

                Lucienne hesitated. “My lord…her ladyship pushed herself to keep The Dreaming intact. It drained her, and finally it took its toll.” The Kings head snapped back, a look of disbelief and heartbreak written on his face.

                “No…she’s not…”

                “No sir. But she is….it’s better if you see. Her body is in her garden.”

                Morpheus walked quickly, his coat flowing behind his as Lucienne nearly jogged to keep up with his fast pace. And when they reached her garden, he could see her body in the center. The flowers around her were still in bloom and they lay around her in a beautiful pattern. The dress she wore was white and thin. It truly looked as if she was simply napping.

                “What happened to her?” The King stepped forward, tears nearly spilling from his eyes as his hand reached for hers. Her skin was cold to the touch and Morpheus almost flinched when he grabbed one in his own, his other reaching for her face and caressing her soft cheek.

                “Her majesty was already exhausted with keeping the realm together. And in her final moments, she connected with Jessamy. She saw you in captivity and felt the connection from you AND Jessamy be severed. It finally broke her.” Lucienne’s voice hitched. She hated remembering the cry her Queen let out. She could still hear the wail echo off the throne room walls.

                “I could feel her. In that moment I knew she was watching.” Morpheus bent over, touching his forehead to hers and gripping her hand tighter. “I cannot wake her like I am now. I do not have enough power. My tools were stolen from me. I must retrieve them if I am to revive my love and our realm.” And with that, he placed a kiss on her cheek, set her hands softly on her stomach, and set off to find his tools.

——

                It had felt like weeks had passed, but Morpheus had finally collected his tools back. His pouch and helm were intact, but his ruby had broken. The power he sealed inside it had broken out and returned to him. But he had done it. He could now rebuild his realm. And more importantly, wake his lover.

                “So uuuh, what now?” With his tools, Morpheus had also found a new raven. One that Lucienne sent after him to watch over him and bring reports back to her. Matthew, who had once been a human, was that raven. He had already followed the King to hell and would be willing, maybe, to do it again.

                “Now, we return to the realm.” And with a puff of sand, they were in the thrown room. “Go find Lucienne, tell her to meet me in the gardens.” Leaving Matthew behind, the King walked off.

                “What’s in the gardens?!” Matthew tried to shout after him, but if the King heard him then he did not acknowledge it. “Ahh, fine.”

                The king’s footsteps echoed through the halls, and they eventually fell onto the overgrown cobblestone of his Queen’s garden. But the sight that met his eyes was not one he expected.

                “No! Able don’t brush so harshly you idiot, you’ll pull her feathers!” It was Cain and Able. Cain held a warm rag in his hands and was wiping down one wing while Able help a brush and softly brushed through the other.

                “I’m not! I’m going as soft as I possibly can!” When the King’s footsteps stopped, their gazes looked up. "Lord Morpheus! You’ve returned!” They both stood and slightly bowed, fixing the lady’s wings back under her body with great care.

                “What are you two doing here?” He stepped forward and looked between them.

                “Well, we thought it would be nice to keep her company. And her wings started to get dirty to one day I decided to wash them, but they dried kind of frizzy, so then we decided to brush them as well.” Abel’s voice was frantic, scared that his King would be upset for some reason.

                “I’m certain she would appreciate that. Thank you, gentlemen. If you may step aside though.” When they did, more footsteps reached the garden along with a soft flap of wings. Lucienne had arrived with Matthew following. Though he was still trying to ask her questions.

                “I don’t understand, why is there such a rush to get to the- woah. Who’s the chick?” His small head tilted as he landed on the librarian’s shoulder.

                She quickly turned her head and held his beak shut with her thumb and pointer. “That ‘chick’ is her Ladyship (y/n). Daughter of Aphrodite and Queen of the Dreaming.” Shaking the raven off her shoulder, she stepped towards Morpheus. “Is it time sire? Are you finally able to wake her?” Her voice help hope, but also a hint of fear.

                “Yes. She has been resting long enough. This realm needs it’s Queen back.” Morpheus sat next to her, lowering his head to hers and taking her hands in his own. His eyes closed and behind him, the present subjects gathered. Lucienne held her hands as if she was praying and the twins for once held hands. Matthew was the only one who didn’t look scared. He simply looked confused.

                “(y/n). My love, can you hear me? It is your king. Your husband. Please my love, open your eyes. Let me see you once again.” His voice was low enough that the others couldn’t hear. His grip on her hands tightened and he moved his head to her ear, his voice becoming even softer. “Please my love. I’m back. Please wake up.”

                For seconds that felt like hours there was silence and Morpheus rose, sitting up and glancing around her face. And then he felt it. A small twitch in her fingers as her own grip faltered. Raising her hand to his face, Morpheus placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Open your eyes, my Queen. We are all waiting for you”

                Behind him, Lucienne’s breath hitched as she watched her lady’s eyes twitch. And a gasp left her lips as a soft groan filled the air. They all watched has the Queen’s eyes slowly opened. She looked around before her gaze landed on her lover.

                “My Dream?” Her voice was hoars and rough. Her grip on his hands tightened and a smile spread on her lips. “Am I dreaming? Are you truly here?” The King smiled had his beloved and helped her sit up, once again pressing his forehead to hers.

                “No, My love. You are not dreaming. I’ve returned. And I promise to never leave you alone again.” He leaned back and stood, helping her turn and stretch her legs while her gaze fell onto the small crowd around her garden’s entrance.

                “Lucienne!” Her smile grew and the librarian stepped forward, her hands finding her lady’s had that was not held by her King. “You are alright!”

                “Of course, My lady. I always had faith he would return and that you would awake.”

                The Queen’s eyes filled with small tears and her sight shifted to the others. “Cain! Able! You are here as well. I thought I heard your voices.” Her voice was coming back, and the twins spoken of stepped forward, bowing deeply.

                “We visited you often, your highness. You’ll find no dirt or dust in those wings of yours, no sir-y.” Able spoke with a grin on his face. Beside him, Cain drove his elbow into his brother’s ribs. “We’re truly glad you’re awake, My Lady.” He bowed again as his brother repeated his words.

                “I am glad to be back as well.” And finally, her gaze turned to the raven that was on the floor and she watched as he stepped back. “And who might this one be?”

                “U-uum, I’m Matthew…your majesty.” He stuttered and cleared his throat. “I umm, I’m Lord Morpheus’ raven.” As he looked at her smile, he took a hesitant step forward. She seemed kinder than the Dream King.

                “Assigned by Lucienne, I assume?” Slowly, she bent over and held her hand to him. He looked at her palm and then to her before stepping onto it. She rose her hand and brought her thumb so brush against his cheek. “I am glad you were here to watch over my husband in my absence, Matthew.”

                “O-of course, your majesty.” If he was still human, his cheeks would be a deep red as she brought his small head to her lips, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before setting him back down onto the floor.

                Grabbing onto her husband’s arm, (y/n) stood slowly, groaning at the ache in her legs from laying for half a century. She could feel Morpheus’ other hand on the small of her back, supporting her. She let out a rougher moan as her wings stretched behind her. Though Can and Able stretched and kept her wings in shape, her back muscles themselves had not stretched in years.

                “Are you alright, my Love?” Morpheus spoke from beside her as he watched her eyes close.

                “Yes, Darling. I am alright. Just need to relearn how to walk.” Her tone held amusement as she turned to him. Their eyes met and her suddenly filled with tears. Her breath hitched and her arms were suddenly around her husband’s neck, pulling him closer to her body. “I thought that I’d never see you again. I could barely feel you, and then I couldn’t at all. I thought I truly lost you, Dream.”

                As sobs left her mouth, Lucienne turned towards the others and ushered them out, deciding it was time to give the couple their privacy. “I am sorry, Cupid.” Her grip tightened as her true name left her lover’s lips. It was only used in dire and serious situations. “You should not have had to keep the Dreaming up by yourself. You drained yourself to near death.” The Lord’s own voice cracked, and tears fell from his star filled eyes.

                “I felt the connection die. When Jessamy…I couldn’t handle it anymore. I felt my own soul die with her.” Her words trailed off and her sobs became louder. “I have missed you so much. I cannot even find the words to describe how relieved I am to have you back in my arms, my Dream.”

                Morpheus’ arms wrapped tighter around her waist, and he pressed his face into her neck. He had been without her touch for a century, and he did not plan to go another day without it. “I know, My love. I am truly sorry you had to witness her passing. And I am truly sorry I did not listen to you; I should have waited to go after the Corinthian. I should not have left you alone.”

                They stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually, the angelic queen began to doze off in the comfort and safety of her husband’s arms. He smiled down at her and moved one arm under her legs, holding her bridal style and willing himself into their chambers. Their room was messy and had not been touched since her body was moved. Though with a wave of his hand, it was fixed, and their soft bed was made to her liking.

                “Though you have been sleeping, you have not truly rested. Dream, my little angel. I shall be here when you awake, I promise.” They were together again. Morpheus and (y/n). Dream and Cupid. And endless and a goddess. He had been captured and her heart had been shattered. But they were finally reunited. And neither of them would let the other go again.

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