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hunny-beann · 5 months

Note

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

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lili-of-the-dream · 2 years

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representation of me (im)patiently waiting for morpheus fanfictions to emerge after finishing the whole season in one day:

#sandman #lord morpheus #the sandman #sandman netflix #morpheus x reader #morpheus oneshot #morpheus fanfiction #dream #dream of the endless #dc comics #netflix the sandman

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dyns33 · 9 months

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Feeling rainy

Another Dream x female reader

“Honey, you look cloudy today. No, rainy."

"I confirm, he is very rainy at the moment."

"Matthew. Leave us."

"Right away, boss. But I'm sick of being wet all the time when I fly in the Dreaming, thank you very much."

It had taken a little time, but during their relationship, Y/N had acquired several certainties about Morpheus, especially about his mood.

The master of nightmares was not very good at expressing his feelings. Mainly because he didn't always know them himself. Partly because he was stupid and not very good with people.

His emotions were like a storm inside him. And therefore, a storm inside the Dreaming, especially when he was nervous, angry or sad.

Happy or neutral sentiments were preferable, with the sky remaining blue, the sun lighting up the whole realm, and the wind seeming to sing melodies.

Sometimes it was a little too hot, when he was in love and excited, but that was no big deal. Also, it never lasted very long.

Like the weather, Morpheus' mood was changing very quickly, and very easily.

And even though he was doing his best to hide his feelings behind a straight face, the Dreaming never left any doubt that something was bothering him.

"Is it because of last night ?" Y/N asked calmly.

"I don't wish to talk about it, love."

"Not even to please me ? I don't like it when you rain, especially because of me."

"... It's not because of you. I probably overreacted."

"Kind of like always, darling, but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. Do you want a hug ?"

"... Maybe."

The tall, terrible prince of the stories certainly didn't like being seeing as weak, but when Dream was in Y/N's arms, he looked like a cat desperately trying not to purr with pleasure, totally at her mercy.

It wasn't a problem since they were alone, but dreams and nightmares guessed what was going on, as the clouds disappeared and a rainbow formed over their heads.

"She has to cuddle him all the time."

"Hush."

"Merv is right. I may be his more or less emotional raven, but he clearly needs her as an emotional human."

"Get out of my library."

All of this could have gone quite well, since Y/N had managed to decode the functioning of the Dreaming, and therefore of Dream, but sometimes he was visibly lost and upset by her emotions, not knowing how to help her, and beginning to feel them with her.

Which was not a good thing, for him, nor for his kingdom.

Y/N therefore asked for advice around her, knowing that it was useless to ask Morpheus directly. Morpheus never really answered questions. That being said, his subjects weren't necessarily better for it.

Lucienne, loyal intelligent Lucienne advised her to speak to the Lord, as communication was important, although she had to be careful how she wanted to express what she wanted to say, as the Lord could misunderstand things.

Merv and Matthew thought that they should say nothing and just cover him with kisses and compliments so that he would always be happy. Because everyone wanted him to be happy, and everyone loved rainbows.

The Corinthian had a different opinion.

"You have to do exactly like him." he declared with three huge smiles.

"What do you mean, like him ?"

"You want to help him by doing anything so that he doesn't get overwhelmed by emotions ? So don't show any emotion yourself. Keep them inside, act neutral, use a monotonous voice, express your love with ridiculously complicated little sentences, and it will be perfect."

Normally, it would have been strongly discouraged to listen to a nightmare. But despite their bickering, the Corinthian was arguably one of the creations that knew Morpheus best, so Y/N thought it wasn't a bad idea.

After all, Dream was a bit like a sponge. Absorbing all the dreamers' hopes, fears, desires, emotions, and though he was a separate being who felt distinctly, he couldn't completely cut himself off from the rest of the world.

So it seemed logical that he was sometimes troubled by others, and therefore by Y/N, with whom he spent the most time.

It didn't cost much to imitate him. It wasn't necessarily easy, but she could do it, for him, so it wouldn't be rainy or stormy too often.

So she trained in front of a mirror, doing her best to remain impassive as she thought about a joke, her deceased grandfather, an adorable kitten, her boss whom she wanted to strangle, and lots of things that never left her indifferent.

Part of her had thought Morpheus wouldn't notice. Another hoped he would see it, that he would be happy, and that she could smile to herself.

While they were watching her favorite movie together, a funny scene played out and she didn't react. Then another, and another, until Y/N felt that Dream's attention was no longer on the screen, but on her.

"My love, you seem distant."

"Not at all. I'm enjoying a pleasant evening, with you." she said with a neutral tone.

"... You didn't laugh. Would you like to see another movie ?"

"No, I like this movie. You weren't laughing either, do you want to change ?"

"I never laugh."

"Because you're too melancholic to find aything funny ?"

"... No. My laughter... I was informed that my laughter could be frightening."

Y/N then turned to him, and at that moment, she almost smiled, finding the revelation ridiculous and adorable, wanting to hear that laughter that her lover was so ashamed of, out of curiosity, but above all to reassure him.

Except that for that, she would have to show emotions, and make him feel emotions, and the goal was to remain as neutral as possible, so Y/N forced herself to remain neutral, looking at him straight in the eyes so that he knew that she was serious, while looking for the right wording.

"I'm sure your laugh is sweet." was the best thing that came to her, patting Morpheus' hand, before watching the movie again.

There were many other moments like this, at the New Inn, at the park, in the Dreaming, and Y/N really thought that everything was fine, that she was doing a good job. The weather seemed calm, with a few distant clouds, but no storms in sight.

Still, there was something in Morpheus' eyes when he looked at her. Curiosity mixed with fear. She didn't dare tell him about it, thinking it was nothing, and he didn't tell her either.

Until Matthew came to visit her as she was getting ready to go to sleep.

"I don't know if I should ask you to go to bed quickly, or advise you to stay awake."

"Why ? What's going on ? Morpheus is in trouble ?!"

"Uh... That depends. Is everything okay between you two ?"

"Yes, perfectly fine. Why ?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"I don't know. It's foggy at the moment. We've had a few rains, a few tornadoes, but Lucienne managed to calm it down. Except that... Hmm... I don't know if I should say it."

"Matthew."

"He thinks you don't love him anymore." sighed the raven, lowering his head.

The news hit Y/N straight to the heart. For a moment, she wondered how Dream could have come to such a conclusion. Then she remembered how Dream was, his difficulties in understanding people, emotions, and even if he himself didn't often show what he felt, he clearly needed others to show him.

For a month, Y/N thought to make him happy. For a month, Morpheus thought she wanted to leave him.

"... This is a terrible misunderstanding."

"Glad to hear that. Can you tell him, please ?"

Falling asleep when stressed might take a while, but Y/N needed to see Morpheus quickly, so she closed her eyes thinking hard about him, and she arrived on the balcony of his palace.

It was raining.

Obviously, Matthew had come to see her before Lucienne went to speak to her master.

Dream stood in the rain, motionless, watching his realm. He didn't move when she came close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, you know that ?" she asked shyly.

"I hope so."

"In wanting to please you, I made a mistake. Your mood changes so easily, you can be so fragile, so sensitive."

"I'm not fragile." he muttered, continuing to stare into the distance.

"You are, but that's neither an insult nor the question. I thought... The Corinthian told me that if I don't show my emotions, I won't upset you with them and that you I would be happy. I wanted to help, really. Since you know that I love you, I imagined that it wouldn't change anything. It would be inside, like for you. Sorry."

Finally, Dream turned to her, looking surprised and solemn. He stared at her for a long time, before taking a deep breath.

"I see. So you made several mistakes, indeed."

"Dream..."

"You listened to the Corinthian, a nightmare."

"I know."

"You thought it would be good for you to keep your emotions inside, like me. Knowing that my emotions are never really inside, but entirely outside, in the Dreaming, while you should keep your storms in your little heart."

"I get it, I..."

"And you believed that I would like you to deprive me of your smile. Of your laughter. That you hide your sadness from me, which I could erase with kisses. Your anger, which I could appease with poems. Your love, which I carry in my chest. All this to make me happy ?"

So Morpheus did something that Y/N hadn't imagined.

He laughed.

And like he said, his laugh was a little scary. Inhuman. A sound that mortals weren't supposed to hear, that no one was supposed to hear. But he was laughing, and he was smiling, and he came over to kiss her, and Y/N thought she liked that sound a lot.

"My love, your emotions, all your emotions, are my joy. Do not hide them from me."

"Okay. But promise me you'll tell me when it's rainy, and why."

"Very well."

"And I was right, your laugh is very sweet."

"Yeah, I guess love makes you blind and deaf."

"Matthew. Leave us."

"Yes, boss. Glad it's not raining anymore."

Indeed, the sun had returned as he spoke, a bright sun, and even if the weather could never be perfect, like their relationship, Y/N would do everything to make Morpheus as bright as possible.

#The Sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction

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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

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What about reader playing with Morpheus's hair? I just love his bed hairstyle! 💖

playing with morpheus’ hair (gn!reader)

thank you for the ask !

lowercase intended

morpheus isn’t fond of people touching his hair. he might never admit it, but a surprising amount of effort goes into maintaining his bedroom-chic hair.

and though morpheus probably isn’t the biggest fan of intimacy with just anybody, you on the other hand, are a glimmering exception.

in fact, he’s so accustomed to your touch that he barely notices when your hand ever so slightly brushes a fleck of dust out of his hair.

you’re in the library, helping lucienne, sorting through books, considering the place went upside down after morpheus left. and it takes five minutes of inner frustration before you finally flick it out.

everything seems to stop. morpheus freezes for a moment, then silently just. walks away.

later, lucienne explains how particular he is about his hair, for some reason. you’re relatively new to knowing morpheus in comparison, so you just. accept it.

the next few weeks, you make a conscious effort not to touch his hair. if you hug him, you’ll put your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his eternal bed head.

on the other hand, morpheus is literally burning inside. fine, so his pride and joy is his mussed-up hair, but he can’t forget the feeling of how tenderly you touched him.

so the next time he sees you, and you’re lying in bed, he decides it can’t go on. in the purest way, morpheus wants to be touched. it’s been over a century of every type of deprivation in that damned burgess glass.

you’re lying down, and he nuzzles into you almost, like a cat. absentmindedly, and half asleep, you stroke his head ever so slightly. then your sense hits you, and you retract your hand as quickly as you can.

but he grabs your hand halfway, and you turn to look at his eyes that are oh-so-pleading, and your heart warms to its core.

he hesitates. “i like when you…when you do that.”

“you like when i touch your hair?”

almost childlike, almost uncharacteristically, he nods. it’s strange to see morpheus, so generally cold and firm, now so soft.

you’re almost grateful to see this side of him. he’s beautiful, always, and you take him into your arms. he rests his head across your stomach, and you run your fingers through his hair. he makes a mental note to ask you to do this more often

from then on, you rarely stop. in public, at first, you’re mindful not to touch him, or his hair much

after all, the king of dreams and nightmares has a reputation to uphold

but whenever he’s in your arms, whenever you play with his hair, he turns into putty. it doesn’t take long for lucienne to walk into the throne room one day to find the two of you in the same position

oh matthew would love to hear about this, she thinks

you almost convince him to let you braid it.

“it must be long enough!”

“absolutely not.”

you’re not sure if this king of dreams sleeps, but the few moments you have when he’s closing his eyes, you take advantage of by threading daisies between his dark locks.

morpheus, of course, is entirely awake. but he loves you, and he enjoys the personal attention. it’s not always he gets pampered, so he’ll keep his mouth shut. for now.

#the sandman fanfic #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fic #morpheus imagines #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream the endless x reader #dream the endless imagine

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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

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darling ; dream x f!reader

sandman masterlist

read my sandman series stay with me here

The Dreaming, a realm of dreams and nightmares, was the home to many, including Dream of the Endless and his wife, Lady of The Dreaming.

In contrast to her husband, Lady of The Dreaming was a soft and gentle soul. The light to his dark. The dream to his nightmare. While Dream managed everything that occurred in the night, the nightmares and creatures, His Lady managed The Dreaming in the day, the more mundane of dreamers. Those who drifted in and out of their realm; the children, the elderly, and the night owls.

It was a good life. A happy, loving, joyful life. One that Morpheus and his Lady wouldn’t have traded for anything. They were content, and so in love.

Until the King of Dreams and Nightmares was captured. For over a century.

80 years later…

Lucienne, the head librarian of The Dreaming, paced in front of the crumbling library doors. The library was one of the only places in The Dreaming that remained upright. As the rest of the realm withered away, Lucienne and the Lady tried their best to keep the Library—Morpheus’s favourite place—as intact as they could. All their belief and love was channeled towards the tower filled with books as old as time.

With a hesitant knock, the librarian waited for an invitation.

“Come in, Lucienne.”

Pushing the door open, Lucienne’s eyes landed on the slumped figure of her Ladyship. As she had been doing for years now, the Lady of the Dreaming stared out of the Library’s grand window. She watched her realm, the one she had loved and taken care of for thousands of years, deteriorate into rubble.

Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Not only had she watched her home turn into nothing, she watched her Queen, once lively and the heart of the Dreaming, turn into an empty shell of the God she once was.

“Can I make you some tea, my Ladyship? Perhaps a meal?”

The Lady turned her head and smiled at her old friend. Without Lucienne, the Dreaming would have crumbled completely long ago. She patted the empty space next to her. “Come sit, Lucienne. I could use the company of a friend.”

Lucienne smiled and sat next to her Lady. Together, they both travelled deep within their minds, recalling old memories of their home, when it was once beautiful and filled with imagination.

“I wonder what Morpheus thinks about, trapped in that glass. I have not seen him since Corinthian made Burgess place a shielding spell. Do you think he knows we have not abandoned him?”

Lucienne hesitated. Ever since Jessamy was killed, there had been no news about the King of Dreams. Shifting her eyes to the Lady, Lucienne took in her sullen eyes, her glazed skin, and the slight tremble of her hands.

“Lord Morpheus is smart. That being said, I’m sure he does not know that his absence has resulted in… this.” Lucienne wanted to console her Ladyship, but there was little to offer. “He thinks about you, I’m sure.”

The Lady of The Dreaming clapped her hands and stood, smoothing out her long black dress. “Yes, he must. Let’s make our rounds, Lucienne. Perhaps we shall find something unusual today.”

Together, a librarian and a God in love walked the planes of their home, hand in hand, welcoming the warmth and comfort they offered the other, knowing they had little time left.

100 years later…

Dark, silver and blue eyes watched as Alex Burgess’s wheelchair wiped away the containment spell that had kept Dream, King of the Dreaming, captive for over a century.

Paul, Alex’s lover, turned back to look at the strange and powerful man. With the slightest nod, he pushed Alex’s wheelchair towards the door. This was the last time either man would come to the basement. They had hoped that this final offering would spare them.

Dream let out the softest of breaths, he could feel the freedom that awaited him. With the slightest stretch of his muscles, Dream stood. The hum around him grew louder, and settled deep within his heart.

With what remaining power he had, Dream broke free from his prison. Putting the guards to sleep, Dream rolled his shoulders. Before he reunited with his love, his wife, he had someone else he needed to take care of.

Alex Burgess had to pay for his crime. And the crimes of his father.

An unfortunate becoming, Dream thought. To pay for a father’s crime.

With a deep breath, Dream travelled to Alex Burgess’s dreams.

“Hello,” Dream spoke slowly. His voice carried through Alex’s mind, wrapping around his subconscious and drowning him.

Alex Burgess's eyes widened into a look Dream had come to familiarize with.

Fear.

“It’s you. You’re… you’re free.”

Dream stood, in all his dark glory. “I am. Do you have any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for a century?” There was malice in his voice, running deeper than Dream’s thirst for vengeance. “Do you understand the damage you’ve done to your world?”

Alex shook his head, trying to back away from the very entity that had haunted his waking hours for years. “I’m sorry,” the man cried, “I didn’t know. Please.”

Dream stepped closer to the frightened man and leaned down. His eyes glowed and his anger simmered. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” Dream had not missed the wince that came from Alex Burgess. After all, it was his father’s selfish need for a gift that had killed him.

“I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.”

With a blow of sand, Alex Burgess was put to sleep for eternity.

Morpheus, now completely free of human control, thought of home. His realm. His love.

With no time wasted, Dream opened a gateway to The Dreaming. He was going home, back to his sweet lover.

Dark grains of sand prickled Dream’s face. With power he seemed to lack, Morpheus had gracefully landed in his realm on his side, weak.

“Sir? Sir!”

A familiar, feminine voice called out to Dream, and for just a human second, he imagined it to be his lover. Footsteps ran closer, and Dream tried to open his eyes.

“Oh, my goodness. It’s me.” Lucienne crouched beside her Lord. “It’s Lucienne.”

With a soft gasp, Morpheus opened his eyes. A burst of something warm washed over him, seeing his librarian. His loyal, forever liable librarian.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus said weakly.

Lucienne's lips pulled into a smile, her eyes glazed. “You’re home, my Lord.” She put her hand out.

Reaching for her hand, Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “I am.”

Pulling her Master up, Lucienne and Morpheus stared at each other. Unspoken words, apologies, and questions hovered in the air between them. But Lucienne just smiles, and Morpheus nodded once.

They both begin the trek back to the palace, and Lucienne watches as her Lord takes in the outskirts of The Dreaming. How dull and unkept it has become.

Once they reached the doors to The Dreaming, Lucienne cleared her throat. “Forgive me, sir, but the realm… the palace… they are not as you left them.”

Morpheus pushed open the large doors. His eyes scanned the view before him. A piece of his heart broke, seeing his creation, his realm, in this state.

With a deeper, emotional undertone, Morpheus asked, “What happened here? Who did this?”

Lucienne threaded her fingers together. Her eyes on the tower, where she knew her Lady was residing.

“My lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone for as long as you were, everything began to crumble and decay.”

“What of the residents? The palace staff?”

Lucienne did not miss his true intention. What of my Queen? Where is she?

“Gone, sir. Most are gone.”

Morpheus' eyes lit with a dull fire. “Had they so little faith in me? That I would return?”

Lucienne wishes she could have been honest with him. Tell him just how his absence had affected the realm, the residents. She wished she could have reminded him of the Endless that had abandoned their realm. But she held her tongue. Like the loyal servant she was.

“What of my Queen, Lucienne? Where is she?” Morpheus wished he sounded less fearful.

Lucienne hesitated, and then she sighed. “She is here, my Lord.” Stepping next to Dream, Lucienne pointed at the palace tower, the library. “She is there. Waiting for you.”

Without hesitation, Morpheus began walking towards the palace. Once he reunited with his love, held her in his arms, he could think about his realm and the damage he had yet to repair.

Lucienne followed her Lord quickly behind him. As they reached the palace, Lucienne opened her mouth. “Sir… If I may?”

The hesitation in Lucienne’s voice put Morpheus on edge. Turning his head slightly back, he raised his eyebrow at Lucienne. “Speak, Lucienne.”

“In your absence, The Dreaming began to fall apart. The only reason it is still standing, is because her Ladyship has commanded it to. She is powerful, sir, but not as strong as you. For a century she has used power she does not hold, and it has taken a toll on her.”

Lucienne watched as Morpheus' back became rigid, how he flexed his fingers just to clench them.

“Like The Dreaming, I’m afraid she’s dying, my Lord. She’s carrying the weight of The Dreaming, and it was not meant for her.”

Morpheus stopped in front of the Library doors. He stood stiller than Lucienne had ever seen him. Power and anger rolled off him, and Lucienne squeezed her hands together harder. With a tone she had yet to hear, Morpheus spoke.

“Thank you, Lucienne. Leave me to mend the heart and strength of my Queen.”

Lucienne nodded, bowing. “Of course, my Lord.”

Before Lucienne could walk away, in a smaller voice, Dream asked her the one question that had haunted him for a century.

“Does she hate me, Lucienne?”

With no hesitation, Lucienne answered. “No, sir. She loves you just as much as you love her. If not more.”

Morpheus waited until Lucienne’s became a faint whisper. With a newfound fear, he brought his pale, slightly trembling hand to the door and knocked, once.

“Come in, Lucienne.”

Morpheus’s eyes fluttered. With a deep breath, he pushed open the library doors. Morpheus’s eyes landed on his Queen, sitting on a simple seat that looked like a throne. Morpheus’s dark eyes travelled the length of his lover, taking in her weaker body and sullen eyes.

“Darling,” Morpheus whispered.

With speed that had long died, Lady of The Dreaming turned her head to face her husband. Her eyes met his, glazed and remorseful, and she stood.

With parted lips, the Lady whispered, “Morpheus?”

As magnets do, or souls bounded by fate, Morpheus and his lover pulled towards each other. Arms and bodies tangled together, and they both took their first breath. Scents of the other filled their bodies and their hearts beat as one.

Morpheus tightened his arms around his lover, and let out a sigh at the feeling of her hands in his hair. Their bodies fused together as one, unknown to them where one started and the other ended.

His Queen pulled away, just enough to rest her forehead against his. “Am I dreaming, Morpheus? Please say no, I cannot handle it. Are you really here?”

Morpheus’s voice, thick with emotion, came from deep within his body. “I am here, my love. I am here.” At the sound of a quiet, broken sob, Morpheus pressed a kiss to his Queen’s forehead. “Oh, my darling. My love. My Queen. I am here.”

Fragile hands tightened their grip on his robes. Morpheus lifted his hand from his lover’s waist and placed it on her cheek. “You’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

Lady of The Dreaming nodded, believing her King. She could feel his trembling fingers. “It was horrible without you, my love. I…” She lifted her eyes to meet Morpheus’s. His eyes were screaming at her. Tell me everything. Be honest with me. I’m sorry. I love you.

“I am tired.”

Morpheus shut his eyes. When he spoke, his breath tickled her cheeks. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

Then, Lady of The Dreaming asked her husband for the thing she had wanted–needed– for over a century.

“Kiss me, Morpheus. Please.”

Knowing he owed her much more, Morpheus brought his lips to hers. Her lips were soft, almost silken, and untouched against his. Morpheus could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers carding through his hair and he breathed her in.

Pulling each other closer, the King and Queen of The Dreaming used their bodies to convey all their words, the apologies and confessions that had gone long unsaid.

Their reunion pleased The Dreaming, and as the King and Queen mended their relationship, The Dreaming began to mend itself.

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undiscovered-horizon · 4 months

Text

Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader

[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.

To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.

A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."

His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."

Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.

"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."

Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.

A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.

The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.

If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:

"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"

"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."

Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.

"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.

"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."

Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.

"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."

Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.

Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.

"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.

He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."

You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"

The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."

It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.

"How bad is it?" you ask warily.

"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."

It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…

"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.

"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.

Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?

The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.

"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."

Miserable.

That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.

The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.

"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."

His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.

Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.

"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.

"There's one more thing, Morpheus."

Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.

A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.

"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."

Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.

"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.

You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:

"You mean a 'better person'?"

"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."

There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.

______

Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.

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barbiedragon · 10 months

Note

Can I request some Dream fluff where he turns into a kitty and let’s you hold him when you’re stressed 🥹👉👈

Brb I'm crying over this 🥺

WC: 700

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

You were touched with gentle despair as if caught in a silent wave while you slowly waited for it to pull you under—a welcome relief from the sorrow that consumed you. Even your dreams which used to be vibrant, abstract paintings of beauty filled with warmth had turned to dull, gray lands of vastness. Morpheus sensed the change and wondered if his siblings were meddling where they ought not to be. They always enjoyed a good battle over a human, and knowing that he was close to you, well, the victory would be all the sweeter. After a few sharp words (threats) with Despair (and Desire to cease cheering from the sidelines), he made his way to you.

That night, after a nice hot shower and shrouded in your favorite cotton pj’s, you lay tossing and turning, caught up in a nightmare of crashing tides. The frothy white of the angry water burned your lungs as you swirled around in a never-ending, almost comical, yet terrifying funnel. You stretched your fingers overhead until they ached but merely splayed against the water. There was no traction, nothing to grab hold of, and finally, you succumbed to being taken under. It was time to accept your looming fate.

A muffled scream spilled forth, shrill and sharp as the current threatened to take you under, until you heard the words that echoed through your graphic nightmare. A heavy voice, deep and commanding:

This dream is over

You jolted awake, covered in a thin layer of sweat, with your pillow hugged tightly against your body. Your breathing was erratic, heart pounding away in your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. You went still when you heard a soft, throaty purr. You slowly rolled onto your side to find yourself face to face with a black cat. It had the most stunning eyes of green, an almost haunting shade of emerald. Slowly you reached out to stroke underneath the cat’s chin. Their eyes shut as an even deeper purr vibrated through its body. You had always loved cats, had grown up surrounded by them, and they brought you an overwhelming sense of comfort.

“I don’t know where you came from, but I’m grateful for your company. I was having one hell of a nightmare,” you murmured; then you spotted the open window, the gauzy cream curtain blowing in the gentle night breeze. Ah.

The cat peeked one eye open, cocking its head before making an almost hmmmmph noise as if asking what had occurred. You chuckled before slowly sitting up, tucking the pillow behind your back. You patted your lap, and the cat seemed all too happy to leap at the invitation. The midnight cat kneaded your cotton clad thigh, making biscuits before curling into a contented, furry ball. It was completely unbeknownst to you that this was Morpheus - a man…err being, perhaps a god(?); you were still unclear on the logistics of it all- in animal form. As your fingers gave gentle scritches behind the cat’s ears, you began to tell the stories of your nightmares that invaded your once serene dreamscape.

The comforting warmth and vibrating purrs were enough to soothe your nerves as you delicately covered up a yawn while the heavy feeling of sleep overtook you. The cat lifted their head, pointed ears alert and green eyes filled with curiosity as Dream watched you drift off, giving in to the Sandman. You remembered the soft feeling of plush paws pressing against your chest before you swirled into dreamland. The beautiful colors seeped through the gray, bleeding and bursting into evocative crimsons, cerulean, and golds this time. Morpheus stood before you, his black clothing billowing in the breeze that swirled through your dreams.

“It's good to see you happy again,” he whispered, arms outstretched as you ran into them before looping your arms around his neck.

“I guess I just needed help chasing them away.” The bright, buttery sun bathed you both in warmth.

Upon waking in the morning, the cat’s black fur was now replaced with the dark silken strands of Morpheus’s hair, which were threaded between your fingers. A giggle spilled from your lips while you adjusted the blankets to cover him up.

“I should have known it was you,” you whispered, gently hugging him close to you.

#requests #the sandman #the sandman fic #dream x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fic #dream of the endless #dream x gn!reader #morpheus x gn!reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus fluff #morpheus fic #dream fluff #dream fanfic

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miladysproblems · 6 months

Text

MASTERPOST

Do not steal, repost, re-write Or translate my work without my given consent. I do not appreciate giving my work to any Ai enabled platforms or chat bots. Kindly respect a person's work.

♡I currently write♡

m stands for mature

Sandman(Netflix series)

•Affliction - angst, sad ending

Part 1: Morpheus plans a date with you and doesn't turn up

Part 2: You run and find Morpheus with calliope

Part 3: Mathew comforts you but You leave morpheus

Avatar 2 (mainly Neteyam)

I'm not in my neteyam phase anymore so dont expect any fics for a long time.

•Missed you -hurt/comfort, lil angst, fluff

•Beautiful - tooth rotting fluff

•Suspicion(coming soon)

•Comfort(coming soon)

•What if Neteyam was alive (series)

Part 1: Neteyam is alive and reconciles with his family but what about you?

Part 2 (coming soon)

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆◇

☽I want to write☾

(hopefully I will soon enough)

One piece

reactions:

Monster trio and shanks reacting to you surprise gifting them (coming soon)

Monster trio and shanks reacting to you being jealous(coming soon)

Monster trio and shanks reacting to you hugging them randomly(coming soon)

Luffy

☆Cuddles after a long day(coming soon)

☆Dad!Luffy x reader on a normal day (coming soon)

☆Luffy's kids headcannons(coming soon)

Roronoa Zoro

◇zoro x reader nap time(coming soon)

◇zoro with a social butterfly reader(coming soon)

◇zoro reacting to you caressing his hair(coming soon)

◇zoro dreams of you(m) (coming soon)

Vismoke Sanji

➹Reader confused about sanji's Flirtiness(coming soon)

➹Sanji and you cook together(coming soon)

Shanks

❃Too much? (m) (coming soon)

❃Shanks x fem!reader x Benn(m) (coming soon)

❃Sit tight, pretty(m) (coming soon)

Dracule Mihawk

◑Mihawk finds out he has a child series (coming soon)

Part 1: You meet him

Part 2: You think he's feeling obliged

Part 3: You think he might leave

Dramione

•Draco x hermione Headcannons(coming soon)

•Draco and hermione married life headcannons(coming soon)

Loki Laufeyson

•TVA!Loki x reader jealous of sylvie(coming soon)

•Loki x wife!reader headcannons(coming soon)

•Loki finds you injured in the kitchen(coming soon)

Shadow and bones (mostly Darkling)

•Hurt(coming soon)

•Darkling x reader jealous of alina(coming soon)

•Darkling with a sick!reader(coming soon)

Yea.. I procrastinate a lot ╥﹏╥

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Request rules:

I appreciate all requests apart from the ones that make me uncomfortable like

Rape, too much dark romance(includes violence or abuse)

Apart from that ask awayy..

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

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alexander-arcturus-black-lupin · 6 months

Text

Morpheus is intrigued

TW: He watches her w/o her con

Morpheus was intrigued. Honestly everything you did was intriguing to end but this topped the cake. He had come up from the dreaming to see how you were.

It was a simple check up.

That's why he came when the sun was still out. He knocked on your door but heard no response. He materialised inside but couldn't find you anywhere.

Till he reached your bedroom. He heard your soft sighs first and assumed you were sleeping, but he hadn't sensed your form in the dreaming.

He slowly opened the door, and was greeted to the sight of you. On your back. Legs Spread out. With a hand on your breasts and the other fiddling down on your between you legs.

He closed the door and sat in the one of the chairs in your room. Which gave him a good view of you. No matter how hard you tried tho you couldn't come.

He knew of how humans touched themselves for pleasure. He'd even seen some have certain dreams about it but he never thought you would be one he'd come across.

Interesting

#morpheus sandman #morpheus x y/n smut #morpheus x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #morpheus smut #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus lord of dreams #the sandman

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: III

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Dangerous magic and old friends lay the foundation of a fate foretold, and Morpheus spends too much time in the library.

Warnings: language, briefly referenced suicidal ideation, self-neglect/harm, extreme sleep deprivation, Dream is still his own damn warning

A/N: First - THANK YOU ALL. Seriously. You're amazing, I love you, and I'm working on catching up on comments. Now for the bad news. Ya'll broke chapter 2. Like, literally. I went to edit the tags list and Tumblr said nope. Imagine a small, family car with dozens of people stacked inside and hanging off the roof. It just won't go. The chapter also didn't show up in the story tags, at least whenever I checked. So...

*The taglist is officially discontinued*

I am making that up with something special, though, so make sure to read the A/N at the end!

Chapter 3: Darker Fates

“Gracious, darling, you look dreadful.”

She collapsed into the rickety café chair. Across the laminate table sat her oldest friend. Her one friend. And she immediately wondered how much to tell him. Only two days stood between her and her involuntary trip down memory lane, between her and the Sandman. She’d seen dark birds from the corner of her eye once or twice, but they always turned out to be crows and magpies. That didn’t mean Matthew wasn’t following her, of course.

She hadn’t escaped the consequences of her actions yet, and she didn’t want to drag one of the precious few people she cared about into the muck.

“What happened to your courtly manners?”

“What happened to your face?” He shuddered delicately, burying the real concern she caught in his sharp grey eyes with dramatics. Signaling the waitress behind the counter, he added, “We’ll need another pot of tea, please.”

The woman blushed and hurried off to fill the order. Doubtless, he’d been flirting while he waited. Damn silver fox. Although he was over one thousand years old, he wore it well. His greying curls and tidy beard looked playful rather than unkempt.

“Do you have what I need?”

He nodded. “Tea’s on it’s way.”

“Not the damn tea, Taliesin.”

The twice-born bard sucked on his teeth, glancing from the front windows to the back counter. Only spilled coffee stains and a sticky smear of jam occupied the other tables. He acted like this kind of deal might draw attention, and he had good reason to think twice about handling magical items in public, but no one cared what two people meeting up at two in the afternoon in a cheap café shared over a cup of tea.

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and retrieved a small, stoppered bottle. The liquid inside moved like tar, oozing up the side of the glass as Taliesin angled it in the light. Even caution couldn’t banish his instincts as a showman.

“Understand.” He looked her in the eye, his scintillating smile packed away for a stone glower. “This is a cruelty, not a blessing. Now, I won’t ask why you need it. I wouldn’t insult you like that. But it’s my responsibility to tell you this is a bad idea.”

She could think of worse.

Before she could explain herself, the waitress pranced over with the tea. She set the pot between them and provided a fresh cup and saucer. Taliesin grinned, winked, and sent her on her way again with a word of thanks.

“One day your philandering will get you into trouble, old man.”

He sniffed and poured the tea, adding the slightest splash of milk, just the way she liked it. “I never begin something from which I cannot safely extricate myself. And, besides, a little teasing will make her day.”

He slid the cup across the table, and she wrapped her hands around the porcelain to drink in the heat through her chilly palms. She couldn’t seem to stay warm these past few weeks. Anyway, tea wasn’t what she’d come to drink.

“Will it keep me awake forever?”

“Nothing is forever. Nothing you can taste, touch, or smell.” He sounded both chiding and nostalgic. “But this will last seven years and seven days.”

“Good enough. What do you want in exchange?”

Tutting, he tucked the potion back in his jacket, and she sagged in her seat. “Tea first. I have grand and patronizing cautions to give.”

She lifted the cup, maintaining eye contact as she took the biggest, loudest slurp she could manage. It tasted nice, and its warmth felt even better in her stomach and throat than it had on her skin. Why did the bastard have to be right about everything?

The twinkle in his eye suggested he knew what station the train of her thoughts had left, and he slurped from his own cup in merry retaliation.

“First,” he licked a drip from his mustache, “and foremost: this is vile magic. It doesn’t gift wakefulness – it steals rest. The fae designed it with little prisoners like you in mind, to be taken in spaces where time melts and enchanted food will cheat the body’s need for sleep. Since – I dare presume – you do not have those safeguards, this could kill you.”

He left the words to sink in, trying to scare her off the purchase. When she reached out to see if he knew someone willing to make this potion, he’d leapt at the opportunity himself. It was his way of protecting her, and it gave him a chance to interfere with what he clearly saw as self-harm.

Since she wasn’t sure she could survive another nightmare like the one Dream hauled her through, she’d take her chances with death by her own hand.

“Consider me warned, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Taliesin bowed his head over his teacup, groaning. Any fantasies that he could talk her off her current path finally cracked. “You really are stubborn, rain cloud.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Oh, no. That you found all your own.” His smile grew back, wan but alive. His hand settled on the table, palm up, and she abandoned her tea to settle her hand over his.

“Just promise,” he said with a gentle squeeze, “that if you feel anything going off, if you even suspect something’s wrong, you’ll call your old friend Taliesin. Okay?”

She squeezed back, trying to smile for him, but she was too tired to make the expression stick. “Okay.”

Nodding to himself, he echoed the agreement again, “Okay,” and reached into his pocket. He slipped the bottle between their joined hands, and she pulled away to put it in her sweater.

“What do you want in return?”

“Well!” He smacked the table with both hands, grinning in a way that promised trouble. “I thought long and hard about it, but rather than jewels, or secrets, or power, I think what I would most like from a lovely young storm god is…” He paused, glancing meaningfully out the window at the dreary, grey-yellow afternoon. “A walk in the rain with my favorite little cloud.”

He sounded so damn happy about it he infected her with the feeling. It was nice to be needed. Wanted. Even if she’d just lied to his face.

A friendly rain gathered and fell as Taliesin got up to pay the bill. He left the waitress looking pleased with herself – and probably a generous tip. Then he came to meet his rain cloud at the door. An umbrella appeared from some hidden pocket and he grinned, holding out his elbow for her to link arms with him.

“I always come prepared,” he bragged as they stepped out into the shower.

“You say that like you don’t live in Wales.”

“I never said you were the only thing I came prepared for.”

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

Given the mother’s name to track, Lucienne did eventually find the record of the little storm god’s dreams, but they were useless to Morpheus. He studied the handful of pages warped by the curse she wore around her neck with mounting frustration. Apart from reports of which nightmares feasted on her pain during her brief, forced rests, they gave him nothing.

Her mother’s dreams proved more illuminating. They, at least, gave him a line of inquiry to follow.

The woman dreamed about her child from the moment it was born, from the minute the father tore her away to trade. The mother wandered endless rooms, following a crying child’s voice while she slept. She dreamed of little coffins and wailing infants she couldn’t find in nurseries dripping with gore.

Arcane shapes and dead languages shadowed her sleeping hours as she learned magic. In the waking world, she became a capable witch. There, as in the Dreaming, every hope and wish bent to finding her baby.

She never gave up her pursuit.

But in the end, it was the daughter who found the mother.

Her favorite dream grew out of a memory. A rainy afternoon, a crack of lightning, and a knock on the door. A painfully thin teenager stood on the steps, dripping in a thunderstorm, looking up with wondering eyes. If Morpheus had any doubts as to the girl’s identity, the scars around her neck put them to rest. She still had blood in her hair, rusty smudges caught in the grooves of old scars, fresh hurts and healed wounds calling to the mother’s instinct to protect and care for.

Although she had plenty of nightmares about losing her daughter again – finding her bed empty, losing her in a crowd – the nature of her somnolescent musings shifted. Softened.

And a familiar face came to call. The Welsh bard, Taliesin, whom the demi-god child kept safe at the cost of her hands, brought little gifts to the old woman and her young daughter. His winks brought warm flushes to the mother’s dreams, and she rested easier at night knowing that her little girl would not be entirely alone in the end.

She had sacrificed ten years of her life to a fairy bargain that won her nothing but a hand-sized portrait of her baby girl during her long search. By the time the child returned, her mother had grown old. They only had twelve years together before the lost child lost her mother.

The woman died. The record ended. But Dream knew where to look next.

Abandoning his throne for the library, he wrestled against a growing sense that he was running out of time. Time for what? Time for whom?

He was still Dream of the Endless. He still had a realm and billions of dreamers to manage. The puzzle of the storm god who brought home his raven lingered like a toothache, but he could not abandon his responsibilities. Determined as he may be to remove the golden collar from both the Dreaming and the dreamer, the curse had lingered for decades without disturbing anything significant.

It had been months since he picked through her dreaming mind to discover more about her – more about the curse. Only now, as the things settled back into a comfortable kind of order, could he indulge his curiosity, his side-quest as Death mockingly called his interests. And he was more than interested. The longer the questions lingered, the more of his attention they consumed.

Perhaps it was the crossroads. The Fates said he’d already pushed the storm god towards a darker fate, but they never said it was too late to change that course, and the three often left the most important truths unsaid.

If only he knew what to look for. Perhaps that was why he spent so much time and energy researching the collar. It gave him a target. Without it, he felt like a dreamer caught in a pitch-black nightmare, groping blindly for anything with which to reclaim the light.

But he did not have to search alone.

“Lucienne.”

His librarian looked up from a stack of new, peering over the rim of her spectacles. “Did the mother’s dreams help you find what you needed, my lord?”

“In part. Though I need another volume.” He handed over the two records, the mother’s dreams and the storm god’s. Lucienne set down her tower of work and went to shelve the two immediately. They slotted beside each other, the mother’s name in curling script, the daughter’s blank.

“You know,” Lucienne said, “I only found the nameless one’s record because the mother’s kept reshelving itself with the daughter’s book. I fixed it twice before I realized. It’s rather sweet.” She sighed. “If vexing. What volume do you require, my lord?”

Morpheus spared the books another glance, wondering how much of the mother’s arcane studies had influenced her history of dreams. But she’d given him all she could, and now he must turn to the living for answers. “The bard Taliesin’s records, and anything else we have on his history.”

“That is more a section than a collection, lord.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t his first time encountering the bard. “I may need to speak with him, but he will be loathe to leave a story once he is introduced. I’d prefer to find answers in the records. Will you help me?”

“Of course. Give me a moment.” Lucienne paused. “Give me several moments, please, my lord.”

On Lucienne’s first trip, she retrieved the official record of Taliesin’s dreams. He’d lived a long life, and he dreamed vibrantly. The tome was several feet thick, and the library echoed when the librarian set it on the table.

“Thank you, Lucienne.”

“I’ll fetch the rest, sir.”

Taliesin’s early works, recorded on parchment and scrolls, sat between books published under a dozen nom de plumes in later centuries. When the librarian returned with a cart stacked high with history books referencing and theorizing over the man and his myth, Morpheus excused her.

“These should suffice, Lucienne. I will let you know if I do not find my answers here.”

“Of course, sir.” She brushed dust from her immaculate coat, checking the sleeves, before folding her hands neatly behind her back. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Already buried in the works of Taliesin’s unconscious mind, he shook his head. “Not at this time.”

She bowed and left. The library would be chaos without her. He could remember when it was. It was no mean feat, organizing a universe of stories. It made her wise in ways he had only just begun to appreciate.

The man whose dreams he searched enjoyed other kinds of wisdom. He’d gained a third of the world’s knowledge by accident, but he’d spent the better part of his life learning the other two thirds by choice. Advisor to kings, story-weaver, and a natural mage, he had the wisdom and craft to recognize some of the magic wrought into the storm god’s collar. He’d tried to take it off when they first met, and he studied for a means to free her after his escape.

Morpheus wanted to know what the bard found.

However, though his dreams in the past few decades often welcomed a shade of the storm god to play out adventures and tragedies as part of a colorful cast, Taliesin’s attention did not linger on the curse. It was little more than a bright shadow that pricked his conscience.

He sat back in the chair, glowering at the books that had failed him.

It seemed every whisper of progress led to more questions in this riddle, and not for the first time, he wished the library could offer more insight to the happenings of the waking world. He should not need to ask for help so often.

At least, unlike the storm god, the bard embraced his dreams. Like all great storytellers, he had explored his fantasies and fears ravenously. When he next slept, Morpheus would pry loose some answers. It shouldn’t be difficult. The bard dearly loved the sound of his own voice.

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

Taliesin presided over a court of housecats.

He was aware enough to know the royal courtiers of Edward II did not, originally, have literal claws, but it made perfect sense in the moment. Edward and Gaveston were in the corner, playfully wrestling – maybe – while Isabella stalked closer with murder in her vertical pupils.

“This is not the way,” he huffed, plucking a kitten from the mob joining ranks behind Isabella, a gorgeous tortoise-shell with no interest in his opinion. The kitten sprang spread-eagle back to the floor.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

His favorite idiot, his little rain cloud, curled under the steps to the dais. She’d found herself, once again, where she did not belong, and if her eyes didn’t reflect the torches set around the room, he never would’ve known she was there. It was the wrong court altogether, but she had a talent for trouble and a gift for surprises.

Dropping to his knees, he reached under the wooden platform to coax her out. She’d become a fetching little half munchkin, half Norwegian forest cat caught in the lanky middle ground between kitten and grown cat. A menace, to be sure, but too cute to ignore.

“Come out and play with your friends,” he said as she wriggled even farther out of reach. “It isn’t good to hide all the time. You need to do some seeking, too, lovee.”

But she was very determined and his arms just weren’t long enough, so he manifested a trail of nibbles to catch her attention. He could be patient. He could be tricksy. Good friends, he firmly believed, should be both, because sometimes people were just too stupid or too stubborn to accept the help they obviously needed.

He sat up to kneel below the empty thrones and clapped his hands on his thighs.

Well. He’d done what he could for now. Across the room, poor Gaveston was learning the price of being a king’s favorite. The yowls and cries almost distracted him to the point he didn’t see the massive black Maine Coon stalk into the throne room. The cat’s eyes glowed, both literally and metaphorically. In his kneeling position, Taliesin actually had to look up to see those eyes, and he gulped, wondering if he was about to be eaten.

“I have questions for you, bard.” The cat spoke with authority in a voice like honeyed night.

Taliesin recognized it, though it hadn’t come from a cat before, and he dismissed all thought of stupid whot, why, what, how demands.

It may be his imagination at work, but it was not his realm.

“Dream King.” He bowed. Then he remembered he was dreaming and squinted at the cacophonous mess of the long-dead king’s feline transformation. “Ah. This makes so much more sense.”

The cats blinked out of existence, or at least out of his dream, and he sat back on his heels. The stone chamber grew quiet. A plaintive meow from beside the stops, however, proved not all the cats had gone. The junior cat approached and let him sweep her into his arms, even purring when he scratched under her chin.

Still aware of the Endless – no longer in cat-form – Taliesin allowed himself a moment to enjoy this imagined pleasure. The little storm god made an adorable ball of fur. “You’d never make this so easy in the waking world, would you?”

She sized his finger with claws and teeth to prove she wasn’t easy in any world.

“There is unwelcome magic in the Dreaming.” The Nightmare King didn’t wait for Taliesin’s focus, confident as any monarch that his words would be heard, that the listener would take note and action. “You have studied it.”

Taliesin nodded, taking his word for it and stroking his friend the kitten as he picked through his long memory for anything of interest to the King of Dreams. “I have studied many shapes of magic, lord.”

“This one is close to you.”

Some darker note in the Dream King’s voice snagged Taliesin’s ear, and he looked away from the cat to study his face. Lips bent in a frown, brows pinched, the king had his starry eyes pinned to the creature in the bard’s arms. Taliesin looked back down to see a phantom of the collar growing around the kitten’s neck. She writhed against it, mewling in pain, staring up at him like he could do anything to help her.

He’d tried, and he’d tried again. He still hadn’t given up entirely.

Couldn’t the poor thing’s shade at least find relief in his dream?

She scratched him in her fit, and he bundled her closer, pinning her fast and safe as he’d failed to do when she was small and alone and willing to suffer in his stead. Even if he couldn’t free her, he’d never abandon her.

The truth of the matter struck him. He felt the cat shudder against his heart when she’d been so calm and accepting a moment ago, and he knew.

“So, you’ve met my favorite idiot.”

“Yes.”

The word betrayed nothing, not how they met, not how he felt. But he wanted to banish the collar once and for all, and Taliesin could get on board with that.

“It’s fairy-make,” he said. “Broken in the waking world, but still manifests in the Dreaming.”

“I know. What I do not know is why. What terms closed the circle around her neck? It appeared to suppress her godly half in life.”

Taliesin tried to cradle the cat even closer without suffocating her. “If you do not mind my asking, lord, how do you know even that much?”

“I saw it,” the king said, casually, like it wasn’t one of the worst things the bard had ever heard, “in her dreams, in her recollection of the past.”

Closing his eyes, the bard took a deep, deep breath in through his nose. He had to hold it for a minute, because it desperately wanted to leave his throat with a string of curses Dream of the Endless would not enjoy. When he was sure he could exhale without heaping abuse on the dolt’s head, he let the breath go. He did it all one more time, and then he said, “I think I understand why she wanted to stay awake.”

Eyes still shut, he murmured to himself, “Why didn’t she tell me? Self-destructive little –”

When he finally looked, the world had changed. Gone was the castle, the throne, and the sweet little cat from his arms. He’d imagined a cheap bedsit in Cardiff, the kind of place the little storm god may stay on the run – and she was definitely on the run, from nightmares if nothing else.

The young woman lay sprawled in a puddle of moonlight, half dead, and fading fast. Her skin clung to her bones, eyes sunken, old wounds open and bleeding from malnutrition and scurvy.

The empty potion bottle sat on the windowsill.

Dream of the Endless studied the scene with clear interest, and Taliesin beat down his protective urges in the name of pragmatism. If she was running from Lord Morpheus, she wouldn’t turn to Taliesin for help when the potion dragged her to the brink of death. It wouldn’t be a life lesson she could grow through. It would be a life ended.

“She came to me a few months ago,” he said, hoping the Endless would care enough about the woman shackled to the curse to consider her in his grand schemes. “She wanted a potion to stave off sleep. I told her it was dangerous, and I thought she’d come to me for help soon, that I could teach her something, but –”

The body on the floor laid so still. How many months had it been? How close was this nightmare to reality?

“I said her dreams would be kinder when she next slept,” the king murmured.

He didn’t have to say he didn’t understand.

Taliesin crossed his arms and cleared his throat. Someone, at least, would learn something this night. “Well, she’s a storm, isn’t she? She isn’t capable of moderation. When she’s happy, she’s ecstatic. When she’s angry she’s electric. When she’s afraid she is very, very afraid. And she’s terrified of you.”

Dream looked over his shoulder at the bard, still looming beside the dying phantom.

“I neither wish nor intend her harm.”

“You don’t have to intend harm to hurt her.”

The Endless fully turned to him, and the bard spoke with all the confidence of being truly heard. Just as the king did upon entering this dream. “You, I presume, dug very deep in a very dark place. That hurt her. Frightened her. If you push her far enough she’ll chew off her own leg to get away, or didn’t you see the part where she nearly decapitated herself to escape the damn collar?”

Silence filled the room. An ugly, cheap place to die. Taliesin wondered how long it would take to find her if she really had gone to ground. He couldn’t trust the King of Dreams to care about anything beyond the Dreaming’s borders, and he wouldn’t trust her health with the one who pushed her to ruin in.

He had spells to find her, but he wasn’t sure he could hold her if she went into a panic.

In the stillness, they could hear her death rattle.

“What will your potion do to her?”

His potion. Yes, he supposed it was his fault. The girl really was like a stray cat, hiding under porches to die quietly rather than let someone help. He should’ve known.

“It keeps her awake. Eventually, she’ll feel too ill to eat. She may hallucinate. Her heart will fall out of rhythm and she’ll waste away until her body doesn’t remember how to function.” He smacked his head back into the wall, wanting punishment, hoping to jog some inspired idea free. “I warned her.”

Of all the Endless, and he’d met quite a few, Dream was the most inscrutable. Cold and detached, but prone to dangerous spikes of interest that spiraled into nearly obsessive passion. His vengeance came swiftly and his affection grew slow. But Dream was, usually, just. He didn’t enjoy undeserved suffering, and Taliesin had to hope that after walking through the little storm god’s dreams, he’d understand she’d earned none of her pain.

It wasn’t too late. He’d lost track of time, but a tableau this desperate wouldn’t come to pass for at least a year.

“If you are of a mind to assist, Dream Lord…” He pushed off the wall, suddenly and entirely desperate to move. “I have an idea.”

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

Her fear grew bitter as her strength waned. She could taste it when she struggled to eat, and when she gave up meals, it poisoned the water she drank. Terror tasted like blood from bitten lips and dust on her dry tongue. Her hands shook, and her throat burned from stomach acid, but it wasn’t bad enough to call on Taliesin again. She knew what he’d say.

Whatever happened, she would not fall asleep.

Besides, she wasn’t dying yet. She was only sick. If the Dream Lord pulled through her bloody history again, she wouldn’t survive. If she had a choice, she’d pick a death in the waking world, free of the collar and safe from the Dream Lord who dragged her through horrors so callously.

She wasn’t convinced he believed in her innocence, either. If he knew he’d threatened someone trying to rescue his damn raven, surely he would’ve apologized.

Better to stay awake and ignore the cramps in her belly.

The rain soothed her. Fitful storms plagued the town she’d chosen as a hiding place, and the old folks grumbled to each other at the grocery store about the weather. Maybe they’d gotten used to it in the past few months. She hadn’t been out in a while.

She didn’t sleep, but she still rested. Her eyelids didn’t grow heavy when she sat by the window and watched the drops racing down the pane. She remained awake, aware, and as close to peace as her racing thoughts allowed.

The window became her favorite pastime, and she spent days studying the changing clouds as angry squalls rolled up the coast, how the grey sky trapped the light during gentler showers.

And she grew weaker. Quietly flirting with the line between sick and deathly ill.

She saw impossible things beyond the glass. It took her a few days to realize they were hallucinations, not a fae spell or some petty apocalypse.

When his reflection appeared behind her in the window, she thought she was seeing things again. And then he spoke.

“You are killing yourself.”

She jerked around, stumbling on numb feet to face the monster. The Nightmare King. Her hand wandered her neck, looking for the collar to prove this was a dream, but she found her scarf instead.

“You are in the waking world,” he confirmed. “You hid yourself well.”

He took a step towards her, and she lunged back. The same game in the wrong realm.

“You still think I’m some kind of threat?”

Another step towards her, another step back – she nearly tripped on the leg of a chair, but she refused to look away for an instant, even to save the scraps of her dignity.

“No.”

He moved the way he spoke, aware of every nuance, every shift, slowly drawing closer. Sure and smooth as a stormfront.

What did he want? She abandoned her home, gave up the precious little sleep she could tolerate, and he still pressed her. He didn’t look angry and cold, like he did on the beach. Something sharp glittered in his eyes, though, a keen edge ready to cut her.

They passed through the living room, through the kitchen, and she only had a few more steps before this slow chase met an abrupt end.

“I’m running out of ground to give, Dream Lord.”

“Good.”

A final step, and her heel met the wall. He closed the distance, keeping the same predator’s pace as she pressed herself flat against the peeling wallpaper.

“Do you want me to fight?” Her growing storm raged. Lightning sheered over the sleepy town, turning the evening bright as noon. Thunder rattled the windows, but the Dream Lord didn’t so much as flinch. “Do you want an excuse to hurt me?”

He stood inches away, eating up her personal space until she felt his shadow had already swallowed her.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?” A whisper with the desperation of a scream.

His razor eyes cut deep, and she quaked in place, afraid to move but wishing she could shrink, become so small he wouldn’t notice her.

“To turn you from a darker fate.”

He raised a hand, and she cowered from the expected blow. When none fell, she peeped at him sidelong. His palm hovered between them, like he was holding up a gift.

“Sleep.”

Stooping ever so slightly, he blew over his hand, sending a gust of sand into her face. She bucked against him, flinging one arm up to cover her face, the other to shove at his chest. But it was no good. By the time he curled his fingers back, she could feel her grip on the world slipping away.

“Poor little storm god.”

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, losing herself by inches to the inescapable lure of the Dreaming and its master.

She slept.

Chapter 4 A/N: I've never done prompt requests, but I've never had 500 FOLLOWERS EITHER (holy shit). I'm celebrating, and you're invited. The rules are a little convoluted, I won't be able to do ALL the things, but you'll all get a say in what makes the cut by voting. To join the fun and check out the rules, go here. Even if you don't join in, there will be one-shots aplenty for you to browse.

I'll be working on a chapter each for my other two active fics while I wait for replies, so you may not see another Younger Gods chapter til next week. For those clamoring for more interaction between the reader and Morpheus, it will be well worth the wait.

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #YoungerGods

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emomensimp · 2 years

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When your emo boss ghosts everyone

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hunny-beann · 5 months

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You Can; You Will...

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi! This is my first time ever writing for Dream, so if anything seems a bit off or if there are any minor lore issues, please do your best not to pay them too much mind (although absolutely feel free to point them out). That said, I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and I really hope that you enjoy it!

Warnings: Uh angst(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he should be.

Word Count: 2,644

This had to be torture, surely.

Some evil method of malice created by some long forgotten god of pain.

Why else would Dream have been looking at you so?

Here, sitting in his rotting throne room, upon his crumbling dais, his expression as close to pained as you had ever seen it before.

"You have returned."

He stated matter of factly, though his eyes betrayed the solemn tone that his voice held.

It had hurt him to come back to his realm and find that you had gone with the others, more so than you ever could have anticipated or imagined. You could see it in the way that his fingers gripped at the arm rests beneath them, and in the way that his all encompassing presence seemed to shrink slightly, as if the very particles of him and his power that made up the world beneath your feet were attempting to flee from you.

You swallowed thickly, but managed a nod in spite of your nerves and the heavy weight that bore down upon your heart at the sight of the being before you.

"I have. I did not anticipate it, but I found that I was suddenly overcome with the urge to..."

The words 'go home' died upon your lips before you could say them, because in truth, you were not entirely sure if this realm truly was home anymore, not just for you, but to anything besides the endless sitting before you and his most loyal of dreams and nightmares.

His own creations.

Dream let out a soft hum in response to your words, before he carefully rose into a standing position, his coat swishing at his feet in that familiarly dramatic way that you remembered so painfully at present, and had once recalled so fondly in the past.

Now though, after over a century of having it as only a memory, a longing lodged deep within the confines of your soul, you found that it almost hurt to bear witness to his familiarities again.

You had buried the Morpheus you had once known in all ways but the physical sense, mourned and grieved him as if you had watched his demise with your own two eyes, never having a day pass you by where you did not think of him and the way that his voice had sounded, or that his hands had felt.

And now, he was standing before you so casually, and you could not help but view this figure before you as a caricature, some imposter sent to cause you even more pain than you had already endured.

Being an immortal human was a burden in and of itself, because it meant watching nearly all those that you loved die in the span of a lifetime, which to you, had long since started to feel like nothing in the grand scheme of things.

You had begged Death to take this weight from you, to let time have its way with your body, bones, and soul, but Destiny had seen to it that his sister knew better than to meddle with this particular affair.

A long dead family member had blessed you with what they perceived to be a "gift" long ago.

And now, you suffered while they lay buried in the ground in lands you had not seen nor touched in centuries.

So, once upon a time, Dream had meant everything to you.

Ever since the day you had met him, after once again grovelling with Death to let you go, he had become abundantly special in your eyes.

Because unlike almost everyone else around you, Dream could not die, not from the ticking of any clock, nor the feebleness of his own body.

He was the one thing you believed to be permanent.

And certainly, it had taken quite a while to warm up to the man, and far longer still for him warm up to you, but after enough impromptu meetings in Death's domain over multiple centuries, he had eventually indulged you when you asked hesitantly if you could see his realm, 'the dreaming' as he so fondly referred to it, for yourself.

And oh, what a sight it had been.

Lush rolling lands, fields upon fields of flowers, a palace so tall it seemed possible to view it from miles and miles away...

You had never wanted to leave.

And eventually, you would not have to anymore.

Not after you had fled to the dreaming after losing your very best friend to disease, her death so dirty and without dignity that you could scarcely bare to even consider it.

He had sensed your arrival, of course he had, for the realm was made of the very power that he possessed, but he had not sensed your woes, nor had he anticipated your sudden presence in his crowded throne room, searching for any familiar face that might serve as a reminder that you were not without some semblance of certainty, to prove if nothing else that you were not yet alone.

You had all but collapsed at the foot of his throne, eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet with tears as you regarded him with a pain he was all too familiar with, but had no clue how to comfort you about.

Loss.

'I can't do it anymore.'

You had told him with absolute certainty, hands clenched into fists as you struggled to hold back sobs,

'I can't endure this torture, I feel as if I have died a thousand deaths without ever having experienced even one.'

Morpheus reached forward, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before he sat back once more, taking note of the way that, simply due to his touch alone, you were now giving him your entirely undivided attention, breaths shaky but eyes wide and trained on him, as if you had never been touched before, or maybe as if you had never expected him to touch you in the eternity that you would experience.

'You can.'

He said, voice steady and eyes cold, though almost determined looking as he spoke.

'You will.'

You felt your eyebrows crease at his words, but Dream simply shook his head slightly before you could even open your mouth to reply.

He watched you for a few moments, before finally, he decided that enough silence had passed.

'If it is easier, you may remain in the dreaming as long as you please. All I ask, is that you do not make me regret my kindness.'

Shocked, you had nodded, before finally mustering up the strength to respond.

'But why?'

You had asked, watching as the being sitting before you sighed, his gaze traveling up toward the ceiling as he spoke,

'You will not have to watch nearly as many crumble to dust here in my domain, and I can see the toll that your immortality is taking on your feeble human mind. My sister has taken a liking to you, and I do not doubt that she would want me to take pity upon your unfortunate circumstances. To preserve someone she calls a friend, I will allow you to reside here until you give me a reason not to.'

And you never had.

For so very long now, hundreds upon hundreds of years, you had remained almost entirely within the dreaming.

You had friends here, nightmares and dreams alike, although truthfully, none captured your attention in the way that Morpheus did.

And none captured his nearly as much as you somehow managed to.

You were close, bound by some firm understanding of one another that never ceased to solidify the fact that the dreaming was your home, the place where you belonged, and Dream the very host that so effortlessly kept you rooted.

Before, there had been almost nothing for you in the way of consistency or rhythm, and now, there was an ebb and flow, a push and pull, a beat to follow, and the biggest surprise of all was that you made up half of each of these things.

Where Dream would ebb, you would flow, where he would push, you would pull, and you so very easily followed along with and eventually even progressed and changed his rhythm in a way that almost made the dreaming feel as if it had two rulers.

The dream lord,

And his once missing other half, the muse of the very land beneath your feet, and of the wind within your hair.

Until one day, that all came to an end.

The king of dreamers left and did not return.

And you could not even dare try and pick up the pieces of his realm that he left behind.

It had been a shameful abandonment, one full of pain and grief, but only a few short years after Dream's disappearance, you grabbed the scarce few items that did not remind you of him or the family that you were leaving behind, and you vanished just as he had done.

At that point, the slow but sure crumbling of the dreaming had only just begun, but your cowardice had won out over your strength, and you'd quickly found that you could not bare to see it shrink into nothingness.

'You can.'

Dream had once told you.

'You will.'

He had assured.

But you could not this time.

You likely would not ever again.

You were not the first to leave the dreaming, not by a long shot.

But your absence and the meaning that it carried rang out loud and clear for all of those who had chosen to remain.

The once so honored and beloved guest of their lord of dreams had chosen her painful mortal world over anything that the realm had left to offer...

And for many, that was all the proof that they needed that their creator would not return.

You were far from the first to leave.

But you were even further from the last.

"Did you lose faith in me?"

Dream asked suddenly, and you felt yourself gasp slightly at the question.

Lose faith in him?

Was that what you had done?

With almost no consideration for the question, you shook your head.

"No."

You said firmly, watching as the endless in front of you tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes boring into your own even from across the room and down the ruined steps,

"Never."

Morpheus took a few steps toward you, and almost instinctively, you moved to lessen the space that lay between before forcing yourself to stop, hands clenched into fists at your sides, the pain of seeing your friend, who you had believed to be dead just hours ago, too great even for longing to overcome.

Dream seemed to notice this, and stopped in his tracks, though he was now far closer than before, only a few short steps away.

"Then why did you leave so easily? Why did you abandon the life that I offered you here if you had the faith required to know that I would someday return to the dreaming? Return to you?"

Your breath shuddered at the implication that he had come back in any part for you, but you chose to ignore his words in favor of fighting off his accusations of faithlessness on your part.

"I left because I could not bear to see this world that you created fall apart around me while I did nothing. It felt as if I were watching another loved one die, and I could not deal after believing that someone had taken your life as well. I was hurting, and I found that it was easier to hurt in the waking world, where pain was familiar, than it was to hurt here, where it never seemed to bite so hard. That is why I left. But I never once lost faith in you."

Dream raised a brow at that last part, and you were quick, to clarify,

"I may have thought you dead, but I did not once believe that if you were alive, you would not come back. My belief that you were dead, my certainty in that regard, came from the immense faith that I have in you, Lord Morpheus, because I could not fathom that you ever could have abandoned us or the dreaming... After years, I ceased being capable of thinking that you were somewhere out there anymore. I did not think it possible for anything to bind you so tightly away from your duties, if not for death herself."

Dream stared back at you in response to your words, as if taking them in for several long moments, before finally he nodded,

"I see. Though I do wish you would have considered the fact that I never would have allowed myself to die knowing what I would be leaving behind."

You sighed exasperatedly,

"But we know that you would not be the first to abandon your post, my lord, not the first to leave something as fickle as your universe given duties behind. Who could have blamed you if you died in spite of these things if others were able to willingly leave them?"

Your voice was small and quiet as you spoke, unsure of how Dream might react to the mention of Destruction, even when the wound was not necessarily new anymore.

You watched as the being before you stiffened, his gaze growing ever so slightly colder, before he spun around and began making his way back toward his throne, his tone firm and serious as he replied, still facing away from you all the while.

"I was not speaking of my duties to the dreaming."

He stated simply, though you could tell by his cadence that his words were anything but.

You sighed, exasperated and fragile after all that had been said thus far,

"Well what else was it that you were leaving behind that was so important that I should have known it would keep you alive then, Dream?"

The lord of the dreaming locked eyes with you as you finished asking this question, cold piercing gaze filling you with a deep regret and an immense longing as he sat upon his throne once more, one long leg crossing over the other as he all but stared into your very soul.

"You."

He said simply, voice low and gaze unwavering as he spoke, watching as that one word alone sent you staggering several steps backward, one hand clutching lightly at your chest as your feeble human mind tried to comprehend all that had happened to you in this one day alone.

"Me?"

You whispered, voice echoing slightly throughout the empty throne room in spite of how quiet it was.

"But I am not-"

"You are everything."

Dream cut you off before you could finish, eyes still boring holes into your own as he continued to watch you from his seat, as if knowing that if he moved any closer now, that you would run, run and likely never return for fear of what any of this meant for you and for the once permanent seeming fixture that Dream had so easily played within your life for so long.

You floundered at those words, vision growing bleary and spotty as you turned to rush out of the room, to be anywhere but this pale comparison of the dreaming, the once beautiful world that you had known for so very long.

You fled your home with tears in your eyes and a hand at your heart.

Dream stayed where he sat upon his throne, and watched your fears consume you again until you faded from view.

He did not try to stop you.

A broken home like this was no place for a fragile soul like yours.

And he could offer you no better than the very world he had once so kindly rescued you from.

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dearly-dreaming · 2 years

Text

•𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒•

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧.

Title: As a soul dreams.

Paring: Dream of the Endless x reader.

Word count: 3,719.

Warnings: Patriarchal Society (sexism, men having more power than women) arranged marriage, consent issues (not accepting a no) aggression, grabbing, mentions of blood.

Summary: You’ve met your soulmate in Dream of the Endless and for a moment you forget what the truth behind this party is. Though, you’re quickly reminded.

Author’s note: Second time posting! I’m so happy the last part got so many likes and follows :) Tell me if you wanna a part three and if I should post another dream of the endless story. The gif isn’t mine!

Part one here.

Part two here.

•𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒•

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧.

Words were unwilling to escape your mouth.

Shock hummed in your veins, your heart bursting against your chest as you gazed at him. At your soulmate. How does one even begin to speak after such a fateful meeting?

He was the future, the man you would spend the rest of your life with, laugh with, cry with, and love with.

You could not speak.

Words dying in your throat that stammered at the sight of him.

But he could, and he managed to utter a few words that sounded heavenly on his tongue, "Your name," His voice was hypnotic, "Tell me what it is. Please."

Now that came as a surprise, to him especially. It was well known, even to his siblings, that Dream rarely said please. Oh, he just knew desire was grinning as they relished in his indescribable emotions.

You spoke without thinking, "Only if you tell me yours."

And then, you were gripped with fear.

A brief moment of wonder had passed over you when you encountered him but now the reality was crashing down upon you. You were a woman and for the women of this time to speak in such a reckless, disrespectful way was terrible, and offensive to the men who had deemed themselves as your superior.

The role of women was to marry and produce children to carry on the family line. Not to speak back.

You opened your mouth to frantically apologise, "Forgive me, for my--"

He cut you off, silver eyes glinting like the moon, "You have no need to apologise for anything, for anything at all," He took a step forward and your breath hitched, "You are my equal and you will not be treated as anything less."

Unable to sew together a response, you merely gazed at him, noting just how much taller he was than you, towering over you by more than a few inches. A darker, desirable, thought whispered in the depths of your mind.

Slowly, you gave a small nod of your head.

Then, the man met your eyes with ease, his own shining, and he spoke, deep voice a grumble akin to soft thunder, "Morpheus."

His name, you realised.

And it made you shiver.

"Morpheus..." It slipped from your tongue and suddenly there was no greater word. It melted on your lips, smooth and powerful and so very tantalizing.

To both of you, it seemed. Morpheus' face sifted into one of surprise and then to longing. He wanted to hear his name spill from your lips again and again.

Wait...Morpheus.

Morpheus.

The God of Dreams.

The King of Dreams.

Dream of the Endless.

A gasp escaped your lips, eyes going wide with shock and yet your feet would not allow you to move from your spot, "Morpheus?! Your Dream of the Endless!?"

Amusement glittered in his eyes as he tilted his head, brow lifting in an almost mischievous manner, "You have not yet fulfilled your part of the deal. I have told you my name but you have not yet graced me with yours."

"It's...y/n..." You murmured, memorised by the expression on his face.

A gentle exhale escaped his lips, glittering eyes darkening with something that stirred something deep within you.

"Y/n..." He whispered your name and it felt like honey pouring from his rose-coloured lips that seemed to be formed in an almost constant pout, "Devine."

You shivered at his words, heart crawling up your neck and burning at your cheeks.

You dared to take a step closer.

Your chests were almost touching, faces mere inches apart. You could feel his gentle breaths fan your face, almost taste his lips on your own, almost touching the smoothness of his glowing skin and dark, unruly hair.

The sudden desire to run your fingers in his hair and then along his face, remembering the patterns of his skin as you traced his features, drifting along the sharpness of his jaw, the sweet curve of his eye and brow and the temptation of his lips, hit you.

And he was much the same.

His piercing gaze was on you, burning as he studied you, never lingering on intimate areas for too long. Your face, however, was a different story. He could not keep his eyes off of it, it was the finest form of perfect and nothing could ever compare.

A shy smile found its way onto your face and the words came tumbling out of his mouth like a symphony, "You are enamouring, the universe has never created a person nearly as tantalizing as you and never will."

You flushed, knowing that under the light of the moon and the stars he could see your blush quite perfectly.

A silence filled the air, sweet and longing.

"So, Dream Lord," You hummed, wanting nothing more than to know him, to know Morpheus, "What brings you to a party like this one? I hardly think there's anything here that could truly interest you."

His expressions were tiny, but, the tightening of his jaw, the slighting narrowness of his eyes and the pulling of his lips told you something.

"You do," His response was quick, eyes glinting smugly, "And please, there is no need to call me Dream Lord. As I said, you are my equal and intend to treat you as nothing less."

Warmth filled you, "You are unlike any man I've ever encountered."

"Good. I'd dread to think about what it would be like to be one of those men. And to answer your previous question, my sister wanted me to accompany her. Why is a lady such as yourself here?" He spoke smoothly and it was easy to tell he was a king.

He was languid, voice strong and tone even stronger, demanding respect.

You smiled, "My father is the owner of the house and the man throwing the party."

He rose a brow, inquisitive, "I see. Are you a magic user like him?"

A laugh escaped your lips as you shook her head, almost sad, "Heavens no. I'm quite incapable of using magic. More of a disappointment to me or my father, I do not know."

He tilted his head, "Oh?"

It was rather shameful to admit out loud but you found yourself doing so, "All of my siblings are capable of using magic, but for me, it's entirely impossible. I practised all I could as a child but I could never even light a candle with a flick of my wrist. My father gave up a long time ago."

You could feel a spark of anger rip through the man in front of you, you saw it ripple through his eyes, darkening in colour.

"That was a long time ago, I bust myself with other things now," You hummed, eager to calm his anger, "Come. This house may hold many intrigues but I find the most interesting place is the gardens. I am happy to show you, if you want?"

And who was Morpheus not to agree?

His lips quirked up and he extended his arm, offering it, "Nothing sounds better. Lead the way."

You took his arm, skin sparking at the touch. Gods, if this is what it felt like to touch his clothed arms the sensation of touching his bare skin would be immense. Heart warming at the thought, you glanced at his hand with a smile, all in good time.

"This way," You hummed, "I want to show you the maze."

As the two of you walked along the cobbled path, Morpheus spoke, "You would enjoy Fiddler's Green."

"What's that?" You queried.

"A garden within the dreaming," He mused, the quiet of his footsteps almost silent compared to yours, "I can take you some time if you wish?"

Excitement bubbled in your veins and you grinned, "Please, that sounds wonderful. Tell me more about your realm, I am quite curious."

He chuckled softly against the night's breeze, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," You hummed.

The corners of his lips titled upwards, "You would enjoy Lucienne's company as she would enjoy yours," He enjoyed the inquisitive look on your face, "She's my librarian. She keeps track of all of the books in the dreaming."

"She sounds lovely. Tell me more about the other residents of your realm," You spoke, dress sweeping along in tune with the gentle wind.

"Well, there are two brothers, Cain and Abel," Morpheus began and the two names caused a bell to ring in your head.

A gasp escaped your lips, "Cain and Abel?! The First Story!? The First Murderer and the First victim!? They live in separate houses, right?! And they have a big gargoyle called Gregory, right? Oh, and hey make excellent tea and cake!"

Surprise fled through Morpheus' features, "You know them?"

"One of my favourite dreams as a child! You laughed, "Whenever I dreamt of them, I'd always try to go back to sleep after waking."

Morpheus chuckled airily, "I am happy to see you are already so fond of some of my dreams."

You smiled softly as the two of you rounded the corner, coming to the entrance of a perfectly trimmed maze. It was tall green with bushes and vines and flowers. Elation filled you, you loved the maze and you loved what was hidden behind it even more.

You sent him and glance, "Welcome to the maze."

His eyes glinted, "Will we get lost if we go in?"

"Only if you want us to get lost," You hummed and without another word, walked into the maze, beckoning him to follow.

And Morpheus did follow, just like he would follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked him to. It surprised him, just how willing he was to do anything you so so desired, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he relished in it.

Your giggles echoed through the maze as you sped up, eyes shining as you rounded the corner, eager for Morpheus to follow. He did so without question, amusement alight on his face, "We've only just met and you're already trying to run away from me?"

A smile spread across your face. The King of Dreams, known to be brooding and unforgiving and yet here he was, beginning to chase you through a winding maze, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"We've only just met, I'd rather run into your arms than away from them," The words slipped from your lips without thought.

With startling ease, society and all of its expectations fled from you the more tie you spent with Morpheus. It was a breath of freedom, one you relished in. No longer were you just a woman, you were complex and intellectual and wonderous and you loved it.

And so did Morpheus.

He saw only the surface of your personality and he was entranced, you were kind, mischievous, inquisitive and you were perfect.

His desire to have you in his arms increased tenfold.

You heard his steps speeding up behind you and a laugh escaped your lips, the stars giggling above you, knowing smiles and secretive gazes. They would keep this encounter a sweet secret, hold it dear to them, the dream king and a human girl, untethered to the earth and instead to each other.

You flew around a corner, dress wisping behind you, legs picking up speed.

You could almost hear Morpheus' heart hammering behind you.

You could almost feel his breath fanning the back of your neck.

The temptation to stop and collide into his arms grew, calling you, but you would not give in just yet.

Quickly drawing close was an overgrown entrance in the wall of the maze, long forgotten by your father and siblings. Something familiar filled your chest as you raced toward it, like so many times before but unlike those times as well.

Comfort.

In the darkest of times, the garden would welcome you with open arms. The stone-cold bench humming softly as you lay against it. The whispering trees, telling you stories from so long ago. The gentle ripple of the small fountain, the stone woman guarding over it and you, a constant in your world of change.

This time, your heart was filled with glee, a world brighter than it had ever been before.

Leaves brushed against your skin fondly as you entered.

Warmth filled you.

Then Morpheus was upon you.

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling against his hard chest, surrounding you with his warmth.

A gasp escaped your lips, skin igniting by his touch.

Your chest heaved in shock and in something more.

Foreign yet so familiar. Everything was hyper-sensitive, you could feel every shift of his body he made, every breath that passed through his lips, the very strong, steady beat his heart made.

All words died on your tongue as they so often seemed o do in his presence.

He shifted, leaning down. Head lowering, nightly hair tickling your neck.

A soft breath sounded by your ear.

You tensed, waiting.

You could feel his mouth, gentle against your ear. You shuddered. You felt his breath hitch, lips moving slightly. The arms around your waist tightened, encasing you in all that was him. What else could there be apart from him?

Your heart beat furious in your chest.

He breathed, breath fanning your ear.

You found yourself pressing closer to him.

Then, Morpheus spoke.

"I caught you."

His voice was husky, igniting something deep within you as you heard the words that made you want to submit to anything and everything he so desired right then and there.

All you could was his breathing.

Through some semblance of frantically moving thoughts, you just managed to gasp out the words, "Or, have I managed to catch you, Morpheus?"

You felt him smile against your skin, "Say my name again."

"Morpheus."

You felt him shudder against you, "Again."

"Morpheus."

He had become undone by you.

"Hypnotic," He rasped softly, "You are entirely too hypnotic."

Finally, you turned your head, desperate to look at his godly face.

His shimmering eyes met yours, and your heart thumped against your chest. His gaze was intense, drawing you in like a siren, consuming you, entrancing you.

Your hands gripped his arms, eyes flickering down to his enticing lips.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his own eyes fluttering down to your lips, darkening.

A challenge.

Who's resolve would fall first?

It would be so easy, barely inches apart, to press yourself into him.

To taste his delicious lips.

You swallowed, unable to stop your gaze from flickering to his pink lips and beckoning eyes. A murmur escaped your lips, "I hardly think I'm the one that's entirely too hypnotic."

An airy chuckle left his lips, breath fanning your face, "Oh, I beg to differ."

Closer and closer.

Almost too close.

Too close...

Your eyes fluttered closed, his face so close to yours.

"My Lady! You're father calls!"

Mary.

You pulled your head back, eyes snapping open and you swore you heard a gentle groan escape Morpheus' lips, ragged and deep.

"My father...?" You mumbled, tilting your head.

"He can wait," Grumbled Morpheus, voice a deep rumble.

A small smile found its way onto your face, "Cleary, you have not yet met my father."

He was unshameful, "I escaped from my sister before we could be introduced."

"My Lady!"

You sighed breathlessly, "Maybe he can wait..."

You delighted in the grin on his face as he whispered, "Yes, he can..."

"My Lady! It's urgent!” Mary continued to call.

You breathed, you would hate to get Mary in trouble.

You forced yourself to move away from his face and smiled, "How about this, I shall go and find my father and you can go and find your sister and I can introduce you all, hm?".

"Well," He looked up and down, "I would rather keep you all to myself but very well. Once I have found my sister I shall find you."

"Excellent. Now, follow me, I know a shortcut," You hummed, gently pulling through a path, hidden by the shadows of winding trees, filled by the contact but longing for the intimacy from a mere moment ago

Soon enough, entirely took quick for your liking, you were back on the main path, facing the stone house that somehow managed to be your home.

You sighed, almost sad to part from him, and then, foolishness filled you.

"You needn't worry. I feel exactly as you do," The man hummed, voice calming you like ripples on a pond, "I shall return to your side shortly."

And with that, he swept away, slipping into the joyous house with the skill of a shadow. You were left breathless, cheeks hot, staring at where he once stood so close to you. Skin still tingling with his intoxicating touch.

You were so consumed with your thoughts of him, of how close you had been, your fingers drifted to your lips, that you did not notice Mary walking up to you.

Naturally, she took this as an advantage and placed her hands on your shoulders, smiling at your squeal, "Mary!"

Mary tilted her head, surprised by the redness of your skin, and the glow in your eyes and spoke, "Now, what's got you acting like this?"

You flushed.

And that was all the answer she needed.

Her eyes widened, "You...You met your soulmate!?"

"Yes!" You laughed, smiling brightly as the woman encased you in a hug. You relished in the contact, Mary was like your mother, by your side at every second. You couldn't wait to introduce her to Morpheus.

When you finally separated an elated grin spread across her face,. "Now you can say no to Alexander!"

Fear ripped through you.

You had forgotten.

Saints, you had completely forgotten.

Mary caught onto your shift in mood and grasped your hand, "Don't worry, dear. When he asks for your hand all you need to say is no, that you've met your soulmate and that you wish him all the best. Not even a man like him will argue with the bonds of soulmates."

You nodded shakily, "Alright. That's all I need to say. I can do this."

With your hand clasped in Mary's, you stepped into the banquet hall and all went silent. Expectant stars fell upon you, burning you most harshly.

Instantly, you found yourself wishing for nothing more than to be in the safety of Morpheus' arms.

"Daughter!" Your father's voice rang sharply like a sword, you shuddered, hand falling away from Mary's as you stepped toward him, reminded of your role in society once more.

He gazed at you, almost bored, "Look not to me, but to Alexander. he has something most wonderful to say to you."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to turn. Alexander was waiting there, dark eyes glinting with something that made you terribly nervous.

Just do what Mary told you.

"Y/n," He began, taking your hand and you cringed at how wrong it felt as he flowered onto one knee, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and I've laid eyes on many women."

A few chuckles rang through the air. Disgust filled you.

Alexander continued and you began to feel faint, "You shine so brightly. You're kind and nurturing. And I know that our children will have a wonderful mother. And there's no other woman I'd rather marry, so, with your father's blessing...will you marry me?"

You swallowed harshly, throat impossible dry.

The silence was thick.

Finally, you managed to croak out, "No."

His eyes darkened, "What do you mean 'no'?"

You clenched your hand, "No. I can't marry you. I met my soulmate. I'm sorry but I wish you all the best."

You pulled your hand from his and turned away.

You thought it was over.

You could feel your father's enraged gaze, furious on your skin.

All you wanted was Morpheus.

A cruel grip found its way to your arm and you yelped. Your head snapped to face Alexander, heart thundering at the expression on his face. You knew then, that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You looked to your father. He was the only one who could stop Alexander.

Tears shot to your eyes at the look on his face. His stare was cold, apathetic, you would get no help from him.

Hysteria gripped you and you screamed, "Let go of me!"

His grip only tightened, "I have already received your father's blessing. Asking for your hand was merely a courtesy. You'll be my wife whether you like it or not."

Alexander leaned closer and without thinking, you lifted your free hand.

The harshness of your slap echoed through the room, stunting everyone into sharp silence.

Your chest heaved, breath laboured as a hissed escaped your lips, "Never."

Alexander lifted his head, tongue darting out to lick the blood leaking from the small cut on his lower lip.

Oh god, you had drawn blood.

And some part of you relished in that fact.

"Wrong answer," He whispered venomously.

Desperation clawed at your throat.

Your mind was erratic.

A ragged screech tore from your throat, loud enough that both heaven and hell could hear.

"Morpheus!"

A laugh escaped Alexander's mouth, "Morpheus!? You stupid girl--"

A dark voice ripped through the hall, unbridled fury almost shaking the ground, "Unhand her."

Everyone's attention snapped to the voice.

To him.

To Morpheus.

Your heart cried at the sight.

And his heart raged at it.

The state you were in. Tears filled your eyes, hysteria ran through your veins, your body shaking, your arm growing red from the disgusting man's grip on it. Oh, the sight of it made him angrier than he had ever been.

"Lord Morpheus," Your father exclaimed, easily slipping into that smart, calculated man you knew so well, "Forgive my daughter, she does not understand her place."

"Yes, I assure you, my future wife will learn her place as a woman," Alexander chuckled.

You glowered, furious and fearful.

Morpheus' gaze snapped to yours and you flinched, head lowering in shame.

Rage shot through him, searing.

"Release her," He spoke, barely containing the desire to rip this pathetic mortal to shreds.

"Why?" Alexander snorted, grabbing your chin, "She's mine."

And that was it.

Morpheus' eyes singed with fury, a sound almost comparable to a growl tore from his throat as he glared hatefully. You had never seen rage quite like it, unbridled and so primal it almost knocked you off of your feet.

"Take your hands off of her, she belongs to no one but herself," he snarled, "She is not a possession to claim."

Laughter shot through Alexander's lips, alcohol filling your senses, making you dizzy, "Why? Do you want her?"

Morpheus tilted his head, "I want her as any would want their soulmate, but I will never force her."

Gasps filled the air.

Dream of the Endless had found his soulmate in a human girl.

Your father was the most shocked, eyes unblinking as he stared at you. You could almost hear the words 'At least you were useful for something' slip from his lips.

"No," Alexander snapped, foolishly, "I won't let her have you. I'll kill you."

Something unfamiliar spiked in your veins.

You threw your head back. The back of it clashed with the front of his face, forcing him to stumble away due to the sheer force. You staggered forward, dizziness capturing your senses.

"Will you?" Muttered Dream.

His shadow stretched across the floor, growling in silent rage, ready to consume Alexander.

Everyone was staring at you.

Your vision was growing blurry.

Your stability fading.

Your body was swaying.

"My Lady!" Mary's frantic scream as she raced toward you was the last thing you heard as you plummeted to the ground.

And then it all went black.

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dyns33 · 8 months

Text

A Silly Dream

Another idiots in love with Morpheus and female reader.

"… What did you just say ?"

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dream of the Endless wasn't human, and therefore didn't think like a human. He had great difficulty communicating and understanding that there were things he shouldn't say or do if he didn't want to hurt people.

The problem was that even when she remembered that, she also remembered that he was an old being, so normally experienced and wise, the prince of stories and words, who yet kept behaving like a selfish, spoiled child who never learned from his mistakes.

"I just said I couldn't stay long for our meeting."

"No, after that. And, what 'meeting' ? We didn't have an meeting, it was you who came to my place."

"As with Hob Gabling every hundred years, I meet with you once a year, for you to give me your impression of the new dreams and nightmares, and in exchange I let you read an unfinished book from my library. But I am very busy and it will be difficult for me to stay more than an hour today."

He was really telling her that for all this time, more than a hundred years, their relationship was not at all friendly, but hardly professional, a simple obligation, which annoyed him but that he had the kindness to fill in each time ? Oh, Y/N felt really honored at that moment.

"… You're a jerk."

"I beg your pardon ?" wondered Morpheus, visibly very offended.

"I said you're a jerk. It's because of the kiss, right ? It's your way of telling me that I shouldn't have, and that I'm very lucky that you keep coming to see me instead of punishing me ?"

"You know I have to come see you."

"You're a real jerk. Go away, since you're so busy."

His face still impassive, Morpheus stared at her for a long time, as if he still didn't know what he should do, before standing up without saying anything and leaving.

The kiss had been stupid, Y/N agreed to admit it.

It had happened two years ago now, when she had just finished her review of the last nightmare he had created, and Dream was trying to explain to her why she was wrong in her reasoning.

It could have happened much sooner, because her heart had been beating for him and only for him for decades already, but before that day, she had always known how to keep her feelings buried deep inside her.

But this time, without her being able to explain why, while she admired his eyes deep as the ocean, his skin pale as the moon, listening to his lulling voice, Y/N had not thought, and she had kissed him.

Dream of the endless went silent. He had looked at her as if she had just stabbed him, and of course he had left without listening to her excuses, not finishing his sentence, but leaving her a book, because he had only one word.

She had strange dreams after that, where she was in a labyrinth, then in a castle, then in corridors, and always she had the feeling that she was looking for something without really knowing what.

Sometimes she saw Dream, sometimes a cat, and she began to follow him, never being able to catch up with him.

The following year he came back, they didn't talk about what happened, and everything seemed to be back to normal.

It hurt to think that all of this was actually just an obligation for him. Y/N had met Hob several times. She knew that Morpheus was really bad with people, since it had taken him more than half a millennium to admit he had a friend, but she had also heard of his lovers, and so she knew that he was not incapable of feelings.

There had been the secret hope then that he liked her, at least a little. It was over now.

The next year, when he showed up on her doorstep with a book, Y/N wondered if he was more mean than stupid, or the other way around.

"I thought I told you to leave. I know you're terribly busy."

"The competition is indeed quite exhausting, but everyone else has given up for the day."

"Oh, you have a moment for me in your schedule ? Too kind. No, wait, we have a meeting, I forgot. Well, I'm busy. Goodbye."

"You do not want…"

"Bye." she repeated, closing the door in his face without taking the book.

It was the first time she hadn't taken the book. If he wanted to, Dream could have appeared in her apartment, or in her dreams, to scold her and throw the book at her, but he didn't.

Y/N didn't know if she was happy or disappointed.

Meanwhile, the bizarre dreams continued.

This time, she was in the gardens of his castle, in the Dreaming. She knew it, because she had already been there. It was because of this stuff that she felt she was more than an obligation.

There were a lot of people in the gardens, some looking human, some not, and they were all looking for something.

Tired, Y/N decided that this time she didn't feel like running, and she sat down on a bench. A wing sound told her that a little spy had decided to join her.

"They all look ridiculous, don't you think ?"

"I don't know who they are or what they do, but I guess."

"They participate in the competition, of course." Matthew said with a desperate tone. "It's been so long now, what's it been, four years ? Five ? I don't know. Some like you have a point, others are starting to despair a bit. I wish they all despair and stop. The boss is tired."

"… What do you mean by 'I have a point' ?"

"The rules are simple, one kiss, one point. Two kisses, two points. Three kisses, the hand of the Master of dreams. None of them asked for his consent, wicked ones. Neither do you, I'm a bit disappointed, young lady. You're the least bad, but still. He was hurt, that was not good manners."

"Matthew… Matthew, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

The raven looked at her like she was stupid. Then he realized she must be really stupid.

"No… That can't be true ! You two are really the same. Two idiots, you deserve each other ! Idiots ! He was hurt, but happy ! He was waiting for the other kisses during your little dates in the Waking !"

"You're talking about our more or less professional and obligatory meetings that he doesn't have time to go to ?"

"What ? What do you mean by… He said something stupid, right ? Of course he said something stupid. You do stupid things, he says stupid things, when you could just kiss. God damn it ! He was grumpy last year, and sad this year, because he thinks you don't want to compete anymore. But you don't know there's a competition ! And you don't want to see him anymore, not because you don't like him, but because you think he doesn't like you ! Boss ! Boss, you really kill me sometimes !"

Y/N woke up not sure if she had dreamed or not. Of course, she had dreamed, and all dreams were real, but she didn't know if she had talked to Matthew, or if she had dreamed that she was talking to Matthew, which was not the same thing.

In one case, she could continue to hope stupidly. In the other, she was just plain stupid.

She got her answer when she came home from work one evening and found Morpheus on her couch. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual. Tired, as his raven said.

"I thought we already had our meeting this year." she said taking out her jacket, not knowing what she should do, or what he was going to do.

"We didn't. You were busy."

"Ah, yes. That's right. Tea ?"

"No, thank you."

Usually things were very simple. They greeted each other, talked quickly about the past year, then Y/N talked about her dreams and nightmares, saying why she liked them or not.

This time, they said nothing, sitting next to each other. Of course, he had brought a book, placed between them. She didn't know if she should talk about those weird dreams.

It was a new surprise when he spoke first.

"You're near my sister's realm lately."

"Which one ?"

"Despair."

"Oh. How is she ?"

"What do you think ?"

"I don't know, you are not really dreamy yourself. I mean, you are, just when you are not talking. The talking you is a real nightmare. But I meant, how is she, as in is she alright ?"

"I must say that I don't know."

"You should call her to ask, she's your sister. Except if she's a bad sister. I guess it's not my business. How are you ?"

"You never kissed me again. Why ?"

He was back, the child with his big deep eyes, his innocent look and his dangerous words. How could he say such important things without the slightest hesitation ?

Y/N found the courage to meet his gaze after taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. Maybe because you have to come see me, and you clearly didn't like the first time I kissed you."

"I appreciated that. I would have fully appreciated it under other circumstances, but at that moment I thought you were acting like the others, in order to win the competition."

Matthew wasn't wrong, they were both a bit stupid, and mostly unlucky. All of this was mainly a problem of bad timing, and communication. If Y/N had acted sooner, and if Morpheus had known how to talk, there would never have been any problems.

"Following your entry into the competition, I am obliged to join you, in order to give you a chance to steal two more kisses from me, under the same conditions as the first. All the others who succeeded having it done in the Dreaming, I do not have to meet them elsewhere."

"… So you've been obliged for two years. But before too, since you impose one meeting per year."

"I told you, I'm very busy. I wanted to make sure I can see you at least once, as much as possible, so it seemed safer to set a specific date."

Damn, he was a jerk. A lovely jerk, a sweet idiot, a pleasant fool.

"And so… You want to kiss me ?"

"I'm not allowed to give kisses, you have to take them. It's the rule."

"I don't like that rule. I didn't kiss you for that, I should have asked your permission, and I'm not going to do it again, that's wrong."

"So you don't want to kiss me." he whispered, looking disappointed.

"I don't wish to force you. I won't steal another kiss."

"You could ask me."

"And would that change anything ?"

"I can't give kisses, but I can give you permission."

During their little conversation, Matthew had been very clear, clear as he always was and much more than his boss who gave him a headache. Silently, for three years, Morpheus had been patiently waiting for Y/N to kiss him again, silently giving her his consent.

He had been too proud or too stupid to understand that he had to verbalize such things.

"Morpheus, I love you very much and I don't care about this competition, can I kiss you ?"

"You can." he sighed with relief and what looked like a smile.

This kiss was much nicer than the first. Probably because it had been desired for more than two years now. Y/N would have liked it to last forever.

"And… For the third one ? Do I have to wait until next year ?" she asked nervously, keeping her hands on his shoulders, thinking he would leave as soon as she let go.

"You can take as many kisses as you want, my love. You can take everything you want."

"Dream… My Dream…"

It was difficult to know what happened in the Dreaming at this moment. No doubt that Lucienne and Matthew announced to the other participants that they could leave because they had lost. Then the wedding planning began.

Y/N hadn't thought about marriage. She had only thought about Morpheus, silly Morpheus, and all the love she had for him. They would need to discuss all of this. But right now, she was too busy kissing him again and again, and him not devouring her with his endless passion.

"I'm glad it's you." he whispered against her lips. "I have to go now. We'll see each other tonight, I'll wait for you."

Being a man of his word, he left a book on the sofa before disappearing. A love story with a happy ending, maybe because he knew they would be fine, or just because he hoped they would.

Y/N read it before going to sleep to join her future kingdom, and her stupid prince of dreams.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus fanfiction

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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

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Reader is a human and is oblivious to Morpheus's feelings for her?!?

in your dreams

aka; gn!reader being completely oblivious to morpheus’ feelings

thank you for the ask ! as always, lowercase intended :)

headcanons, morpheus x constantine!reader, established contact, slight plot derision, heavy miscommunication (idiots in love basically), GENDER NOT SPECIFIED !

oh you silly, oblivious fool. the both of you.

in fact, morpheus should become despair, and you? denial. utter delusion.

despite having strings of passionate love affairs, morpheus is perplexed by you. the seduction has never been hard for him, only the longevity. but he can’t even reach that.

he supposes he should be somewhat grateful, as he won’t come on too headstrong. on the other hand, however, he wonders exactly how much effort he has to put in to win you over. and morpheus has never shied away from a romantic pursuit, especially not when it involves his ego (which, in fairness, it always does), but you are…something else. that’s why he likes you. you’re so different from your sibling; where she’s perceptive, you practically live in daydreams.

and that is precisely where he begins his pursuit of you. in your dreams, as you say to him. morpheus begins by making everything softer, brighter. both you and your sister are chronic nightmare sufferers, as you’ve mentioned. so, unknown to you, he keeps nightmares at bay. not this time, he chides them. not this time.

it’s the first night you get a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

you suspect it has something to do with him, but you brush it off as impersonal. even despite johanna’s prodding, you think it’s probably because the sand has been returned.

“i’m telling you jo, it’s nothing.”

“well he didn’t make my nightmares suddenly vanish. next time you see him, tell him i have a bone to pick with him.”

“there won’t be a next time!”

deep down, you hope there will be.

on the other hand, it’s been at least two weeks of pleasant dreams, and morpheus’ patience is wearing thin. surely for someone of your intelligence, you’d realise it has something to do with him? fine. maybe he just has to be more obvious.

he starts by physically appearing in your dream. slowly, though. tactfully. there’s roses along the meadow you’re dreaming of tonight. maybe it’s just you, but you swear you can hear some type of slow jazz.

it takes you at least twenty minutes (if the dreaming even has a linear concept of time) to notice him. and when you do, it’s only because he has to shuffle to get a better view of you, and you’re slightly perplexed by the swath of black fabric against such a vibrant pink background.

“oh! it’s you!”

finally, he thinks. “it is. and you, y/n? how are you?”

“i’m good. i’m not sure if this is actually you, or if you’re just me. still wrapping my head around this whole thing.”

“i am quite certain that we are separate. it will take time to adjust, but i am sure you will. you have quite the mind.”

you flush. “thank you. oh! actually, i had a favour to ask.”

“anything,” morpheus replies, instantly. there’s a softness in his voice that makes you almost melt. he, on the other hand, is elated. such intimacy, already? perhaps his worries were for nothing. he’d quite literally grant you the sun, if he could (though he doesn’t have the best experiences with those).

“could you perhaps get rid of my sister’s nightmares, too? in her own words, she ‘has a bone to pick.’ if that’s not too much?”

ah. not quite the favour he was thinking, but if it makes you happy…

“of course. i will see to it myself.”

you smile at that, and morpheus feels a warmth in his chest that he hasn’t felt for a long, long time.

“thanks, man. i appreciate that.”

you physically cringe. man ? there are seven ways you can envision the ground swallowing you up alive, and the only reason it doesn’t is because of morpheus’ presence.

meanwhile morpheus himself is inwardly despairing. ‘man’ ? either humans have changed entirely, or his seductive skills are at a miserable low.

thankfully, you’re saved by your alarm blaring through. you wake up in sheer agony. so bad, in fact, that you lie in bed for another twenty minutes quite literally saying prayers to every deity you can imagine. you’re atoning for some sin you can’t even think about. what the hell have you done to deserve this?

whilst you’re busy despairing in the waking world, morpheus is slumping against his throne in the dreaming. despair must be having a brilliant time, he thinks.

it takes both lucienne and matthew’s combined efforts to pull him out. giving the lord of dreams a pep talk? never been on the agenda, but he feels remarkably better after matthew assures him “maybe they’re just shy!”

so morpheus does something he’s never done before.

he consults human dating books. oh, so a ‘light touch on the arm’ is still popular. matthew tells him to try a more extroverted approach.

“why can’t you just tell them?”

but the lord of dreams is a prideful creature, though he’d never admit it. why should he go to them?

underneath that is a piercing fear of rejection, of being alone again, especially after the burgess incident. but that’s for later.

morpheus even consults death. his sister has a wonderful track record of being good with humans.

so, armed with flowers, and newfound knowledge of “tenderness, morpheus. be tender and warm,” he shows up at your door.

when you answer, you’re delighted, though you try and hide it, of course.

“hi again - oh, are those for johanna? she’s out at the moment, unfortunately, but i can pass a message on if you’d like?”

he blinks. “no, they…they are for you, actually.”

your eyes widen in surprise. “for me? what’s the occasion?”

he looks at you, so deeply that you almost shudder. there’s something…tangible about his stare. something that looks like restraint. “there was no reason,” he almost whispers. “i just thought you might like these. they’re often in your dreams.”

you could melt right there. he saw your dreams? personally?

but of course he did. he’s quite literally the lord of dreams. he sees everybody’s.

inwardly, you recoil, too caught up in denial to continue even thinking about any possible advances towards you.

“that’s…that’s really nice of you. thank you. would you like to come in?”

but before he can, you hear a car pull up. johanna’s home. and you love your sister, you truly do, but just this once you wish she hadn’t been home on time (which is a rare occurrence of it’s own).

morpheus, on the other hand, looks distraught. he’s practically on the verge of tears as johanna approaches, and though you remind him the offer still stands, he bids the both of you farewell. much to matthew’s chagrin, of course.

“nice one, boss.”

johanna teases you about the flowers, but you brush her off.

“it’s probably just appreciation. you know, because of the sand?”

your sister’s had enough. “you’re utterly hopeless, you know that? and so is he.”

“who?” you ask, absentmindedly.

“your sand boyfriend.”

“he’s not my boyfriend!”

oh, but how he wants to be.

in fact, morpheus has all but given up, until he sees one dream that particularly intrigues him.

you’re dreaming, again. you’re dreaming, and he could fall to his knees in relief when he realises that you’re dreaming of a romance movie.

it’s pride and prejudice. and the only reason he realises this is because he was there for its publication, of course (and because there’s been a strange influx of austen-adapted movie dreams lately, for some reason).

but it’s the scene that intrigues him, where darcy is walking up to you, in this case, and profoundly expressing his love.

how odd. he never would have pegged you down for such a hopeless romantic, but now he realises. he needs to be forward in his advances.

so he swallows your pride and shows up at your door the next morning, armed with nothing this time.

you answer the door hurriedly after hopping out of the shower, wearing nothing but an artfully wrapped towel, thinking it’s johanna.

it’s not. it’s a man (a man?) you are incredibly interested in, and you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and just a towel.

“could you…could you give me a minute, maybe?”

but morpheus’ usually formal tendencies have somehow vanished, and he protests.

“i need to speak to you.”

he barely waits for an answer, striding in. you practically run to shut the door, frantically looking around for something to preserve any shred of modesty you have left. that towel is slipping and you give yourself maybe five minutes before all hell breaks loose.

“y/n.”

“morpheus?”

to your utter horror, he launches into a speech you find all too familiar.

“-you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i-”

“were you spying on me?”

you’re seething. is this some sort of joke? does he mean to insult you? does he find humour in dreams that bring you some semblance of joy?

“i…”

“you have no right to peer into my dreams. that is personal. i don’t give a shit if you’re the king of dreams, you let me have that! let me live my dreams in peace!”

you’re all but yelling into his face, jabbing a finger into his chest. embarrassment is flaring into every atom of your being at the thought of him laughing at you. ridiculing you.

to your surprise, his own eyes burn in anger. “my apologies, but you are not exactly the easiest person to please.”

“to please?”

he groans. quite literally. the sound reverberates around the walls.

“do you have any idea how utterly exhausting it is to get in your mind? to try and win your affection? i have done everything. i have lost my dignity - i even considered asking desire for advice, all for you!” his voice penetrates into every layer of your body.

bashfully, you mutter, “why?”

if he could explode, he might have. you’ve both quietened down, a palpable tension between the two of you. the clock ticking dully is the only sound that fills the room for maybe five minutes.

“i have…i feel for you.”

“what? like pity?”

“no. listen to me. i feel for you. i have feelings for you. every moment i spend in your presence is a test of my restraint. there are no words for the boundless nature of just how deeply i feel for you. i am…i am half agony, half hope. say the word once, and i will leave you in peace. i will not interfere in your affairs, nor your dreams, again. but if there is even a glimmering semblance of affection for me, i beg you. tell me so. i cannot bear it any longer.”

oh.

you’ve never been good with words. it’s not in your nature; you’ve always left the negotiating, the diplomacy, to your sister. you’ve always been the first to act.

so when you grab morpheus’ face with your hands, eyes locked, you can feel in your gut that once again, your instinct hasn’t failed you.

you can practically hear relief filled in the sigh that escapes morpheus’ lips, a wordless plea pooling in his eyes, mouth begging to be savoured with everything you have in you. so tenderly, you press your lips to his.

it’s heaven. months, of pure restraint and long-awaited hope pour into the kiss, settle into your bones, wrap around the two of you. in fact, it’s almost like you both become one, so deeply are you melded together. kissing morpheus is like being filled with every star in the cosmos; like light and dark themselves, simultaneously.

when you finally break apart, you can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, and neither can he.

he looks at you eyes full of wonder, lips lightly swollen from the kiss. you’re wrapped in his arms, and his neck is woven in between your own arms.

“nice way to sneak austen in there, casanova. i thought the lord of dreams would have been original about that stuff.”

he pulls you closer, your head nestling into the crook of his neck. “i might have been very loosely inspired.”

you hum softly. “what a shame. you owe her an apology.”

morpheus shakes his head, and you feel a low chuckle build in his throat.

“in her dreams.”

——-

TAGLIST;

@liv-n

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#dream the endless imagine #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #dream of the endless fic #the sandman x you #the sandman headcanons #dream x you #morpheus imagines #morpheus headcanons #the sandman imagine

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